#fr that fic ruined me

[daffi-990]

Anyone else from the SPN fandom (more specifically the Destiel fandom) get Twist & Shout flashbacks from watching Fellow Travelers or was that just me? 😭😭😭😭

[hinamie]

"I'll show you every day that choosing to live was worth it"

some of my favourite scenes from @hijinks-n-lowjinks' fic things i would miss from the other side . this fic tore my heart out fr but like in a good way and i wanted to pay it homage the only way i know how <3

[baekhyunsbestie]

──★ home ˙☁️ ̟ !!

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content: SMUT. 18+/MDNI. 4.4k+ words. pussy-whipped!baekhyun x f!reader, established relationship, jealousy (baek's a bit toxic lol), dirty talk, pet names, p in v, masturbation, voyeurism if ya squint, baek's a REAL EATER iykwim

you check your phone and pout when you see your boyfriend still hasn’t replied to your message about his dinner plans for the evening.

after two grueling weeks, it’s finally baekhyun’s day off. the last few hours of radio silence from him are probably because he’s lost in his game. you understand—he deserves this downtime. after an exhausting summer of touring and prepping for a comeback, he’s earned the right to unwind however he pleases. even though you��d prefer he take a break from the screen, everyone recharges differently, and gaming is his escape.

despite your understanding, you can’t resist teasing him a little. you’re bored and craving some attention.

unlocking your phone, you send him a playful text. “wow, it’s actually insane how your fingers were working just fine last night when they were inside me, and now they can’t text me back?”

baekhyun’s love for his video games are well-known, but his affection for you runs even deeper. he thrives on your playful teasing and the way you make him work for your attention. it’s a challenge he finds irresistible.

seconds after sending the message, he’s already read it. and it’s no surprise when his call comes through.

the moment you answer, baekhyun’s voice bursts through the speaker, filled with urgency. “aaahhh, i’m so sorry, baby! i totally lost track of time and didn’t realize you asked about dinner. please, give me another hour! the guys and i are on a winning streak right now, and i can’t just leave them hanging—chanyeol will literally kill me.”

you can picture his adorable pout and those pleading brown eyes. the image of him, guilt-ridden yet endearing, makes you soften.

after arriving back in town late last night, despite being exhausted, he went straight to you. the fatigue from the long flight was no match for the pull he felt toward you. the need to see you, to be with you, was stronger than any weariness. it was well past midnight when he quietly slipped into your room, his footsteps light as he approached your bed. you were fast asleep, oblivious to his presence.

he knelt by the edge of the bed, his gaze taking in the serene sight of you. with a gentle touch, he brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face, wanting nothing to obstruct his view. the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains bathed your features in an ethereal glow. even in sleep, you were breathtaking.

his eyes traced every detail—the beauty marks on your skin, the blush on your cheeks, the way your eyelashes rested against your skin, and the slight pout of your lips that made his heart ache. your relaxed eyebrows seemed too perfect, too serene. he marveled at you, struggling to believe that someone as beautiful as you could be his.

moments like these made him fall deeper in love, leaving him in awe of the depth of his feelings. it took every ounce of his self-control to keep from showering your face with tender kisses.

he imagined how your lips would feel against his, the moment becoming even more passionate as his longing grew. his mind wandered to how your hands would pull him closer, and the heat between you would intensify with each touch.

just then, you shifted slightly in your sleep, a soft moan escaping your lips, bringing him back to reality. he wanted to freshen up from his flight before joining you in bed, where he could show you just how much he missed you and how important you are to him. he was eager to remind you of the boundless passion he had for you.

as these thoughts replay in your mind, guilt starts to gnaw at you. maybe you should let him enjoy his game a little longer. “actually,” you say, your words tumbling out, “kyungsoo messaged me a bit ago about grabbing some food and drinks. i haven’t caught up with him in a while, so maybe i could do that? i can come over to your place in a couple of hours when you’re free?”

you’re about to suggest an alternative when the sound of the game being paused reaches your ears, followed by some shuffling. before you can finish your thought, baekhyun cuts you off, his voice determined and a bit breathless. “nah, fuck that—i’m coming over right now to remind that pretty little head of yours just how good my fingers and my mouth really are.”

he knows kyungsoo’s no threat—they’ve met, and they actually get along quite well. but the idea of you spending time with another man still sparks a flash of jealousy deep within him. it’s an irrational feeling, one he can’t quite shake, even though he trusts you completely.

you’re slightly annoyed by how his jealousy makes you feel. you’ve never been the jealous type; in fact, you’ve always found the emotion quite exhausting and unnecessary in relationships. but hearing baekhyun like this, with that possessive edge to his voice—it does something to you. it makes you feel empowered, desired, and, if you’re honest, a little bit turned on. there’s something primal about the way he can’t stand the thought of losing you that stirs something deep inside, something you hadn’t realized was there.

you never expected to react this way, but the idea of baekhyun being just a little bit jealous, wanting you all to himself, awakens a thrill you can’t ignore. it’s a side of him that rarely comes out, and it only makes you want him more.

"i’ll be at yours in 10," he continues, his tone dripping with seductive authority. "i’ll take you out to your favorite spot after i make you cum a few times. does that sound good?'

oh, he’s fucking insane. ‘a few times’? you’re still sore from all the ways he took you last night. all day you've been feeling like you’re still dripping with the remnants of what seems like gallons of cum he left inside you. there’s no way he has anything left in him.

“what kind of boyfriend do you think i am?” he replies, a smile evident in his voice. “i’ve been away from my gorgeous girl for far too long. the least i can do is make sure you’re completely satisfied before we head out for dinner.”

before you can call his bluff, you scoff loudly. "yeah, yeah. put your money where your mouth is, baek."

his low chuckle sends a flush of heat to your cheeks and neck. you gulp when he says, "umm, actually, i’d rather have my mouth on something else... and now that i’m thinking about it, i am feeling kind of hungry. but probably not in the same way you are."

you’re left speechless, stunned by how quickly the playful banter turned into something so intensely sexual.

you hear a car door slam and the sound of an engine revving in the background. "wait, are you already on the way?" you glance at your phone, realizing you’ve only been on the call for two minutes.

"didn’t you just tell me to put my money where my mouth is? i’ll be seeing you soon, princess."

as much as baekhyun wanted to keep playing his game, he craved you a hundred times more. he could never get enough of you. after being in a relationship with him for a couple of years, you might have thought the sex would lose its excitement, and become less invigorating, even boring. that’s how it was in every previous relationship you’d been in.

but comparing your current love life to past experiences was a mistake. how could anyone ever measure up to him? no one has ever made love to you with the same passion or intensity as baekhyun. he stirs emotions in you that you’ve never felt before. the electric connection and the gravitational pull between you are unlike anything you’ve ever experienced until now.

baekhyun is known for his responsible nature. he’s always maintained a clean image, carefully balancing his public persona with his personal life. he has a strong sense of control, particularly when it comes to his indulgences. whether it's alcohol, late-night parties, or anything that could potentially tarnish his reputation, baekhyun manages his habits with precision. his friends and fans admire him for his discipline and his ability to remain grounded despite his celebrity status.

but with you, the usual rules don't seem to apply. you’re like a potent, irresistible drug, an intoxicating force that disrupts his usual self-control. unlike his measured approach to life, which he meticulously curates to maintain his ‘good boy’ image, your presence unleashes a side of him that craves indulgence beyond his typical boundaries.

when he’s with you, the usual moderation goes out the window. the way he desires you, the way he needs you, is all-consuming. you’ve become his ultimate temptation, a source of overwhelming pleasure that he can't resist. it’s as if you’ve unlocked a part of him that he usually keeps tightly secured—his craving for you surpasses any control he normally exerts over himself. he can't help but think that this may be unhealthy but at the same time, he can give two fucks about health when you and your body are on the table.

this desire for you is so intense that it feels like a high he can’t replicate with anything else. your touch, your voice, your scent—they’re all addictive to him. where he can easily set limits in other areas of his life, with you, he finds himself willing to push past those limits, to experience the pleasure and intensity of your connection more deeply.

just hearing your voice on the phone alone had made his dick twitch with anticipation, a physical response to the sultry promise in your tone. already, his mind was consumed by visions of the ways he’ll claim you tonight, the thought of his face buried between your thighs dancing vividly behind his closed eyelids. he could almost hear the honeyed moans that would spill from your lips, each one calling his name in desperate pleasure—music that makes him want to crank up the volume and lose himself in the symphony of your need.

the idea of you writhing beneath him, his mouth working relentlessly to make you cum repeatedly, ignites a deep hunger in him. he’s intoxicated by the thought of your taste, the way your pleasure would flood his senses, making him feel as though he’s already savoring the sweetness of it. the image of you bent over the sheets, your ass bouncing rhythmically against his pelvis as he takes you from behind, sends a jolt of raw desire through him. he’s pushed to the edge, the anticipation fueling his drive, making him eager to press the gas harder and faster, to make every moment of your pleasure as intense as the last.

he wonders if you’re already wet for him, if you’re lying there in anticipation, sprawled out on your bed. he imagines you touching yourself, your fingers gliding over your sensitive skin with the kind of urgency that drives him wild. the thought of you, alone and aroused, sends a jolt of excitement through him, igniting his imagination. he pictures the sheets beneath you, soaked and tangled, their disheveled state reminiscent of those intimate facetime calls after his shows, when you were so eager for his touch.

his heartbeat pounds against his ribcage, a steady thrum of anticipation that makes it hard to focus on anything else. his breathing grows heavy, each breath coming faster as he thinks about how you’ll be waiting for him. the image of you, lost in pleasure, is intoxicating, and he can’t help but grind his teeth, trying to suppress the growing need. his hand moves restlessly over the bulge in his sweatpants, seeking some form of relief that remains just out of reach.

glancing at the gps, he sees that there are only three minutes left before he arrives. the thought drives him to the brink of madness, knowing that just a few more moments and he’ll be able to indulge in the vivid fantasies that have been consuming him.

three more minutes.

two.

one.

within thirty seconds of parking, he’s at your front door, quickly entering the code and slipping inside. he kicks off his shoes with haste, his eyes darting around the living room and kitchen in search of you. his gaze zeroes in on your bedroom door, slightly ajar.

that’s when he hears you.

in three swift strides, he’s at your bedroom door, and in two more, he stands at the edge of your bed.

just moments ago, he was imagining this very scene on his drive over, marveling at the power of his thoughts. a smile curves on his lips as he wonders if he’s somehow manifested this moment.

his eyes lock onto your hands: your right hand nestled between your legs, your left gently caressing one of your breasts. he could lose himself in this intimate display for hours.

to baekhyun, the sight before him is pure art. you are the masterpiece, and he’s eager to explore every detail. his mouth parts slightly as he observes your fingers moving inside you, the raw, vivid imagery stirring something deep within him.

he knows that the pace you’ve set isn’t enough. you need his touch, his mouth. yet, judging by the flush spreading across his neck and ears, his ragged breathing, and the throbbing need straining against his sweatpants, it’s clear he’s the one who’s desperately craving release.

baekhyun steps closer to the edge of your bed, closing the distance between you. kneeling between your trembling legs, he dips his head, just inches away from your dripping core.

the sight of you is driving him to the brink.

"may i?" he murmurs before trailing soft, wet kisses along the inside of your right thigh, gradually moving toward your core. "i’m sorry for keeping you waiting, princess," he adds, his gaze filled with intense desire.

his eyes flutter shut as he plants another kiss right above your pubic bone. "i’ll spend these next few days showing you just how sorry I am."

the sight of him like this is driving you wild. looking down at him with your lips slightly parted, you nod, unable to hold out any longer.

you see the wicked smirk on his face as he positions his mouth above your throbbing clit, lightly brushing it with his bottom lip. the contact makes your body jolt and a soft whine escape your lips. his smile is devilish, and you know you’re in for a wild ride. "baby, i need you to use your words," he commands, his voice low and demanding.

"baekhyun, please, i can’t wait any longer. please, please, please. i need you," you cry out, your voice filled with desperation.

his cock twitches at your plea, clearly aroused by your desperation. "your wish is my command, princess," he responds, his own need evident in his tone.

baekhyun’s smile deepens, a blend of satisfaction and eager anticipation glinting in his eyes. he knows, with absolute certainty, that you’re wholly surrendered to him—mind, body, and soul. he draws nearer to your throbbing clit, his breath warm and electrifying against your sensitive skin. his tongue teases with a slow, deliberate stroke along your folds, each lick sending a shiver through you and making you gasp, arching your back in a reflexive, desperate response.

his tongue works slowly and deliberately, savoring every taste and texture. each stroke sends jolts of pleasure through your body, causing you to squirm and grip the sheets. he alternates between light, teasing touches and firmer, more insistent strokes, keeping you on the edge of anticipation.

his hands glide up your thighs, fingers gently pressing into your skin as if to anchor you in place. the sensation of his touch, combined with the delicious rhythm of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure crashing over you. you moan and writhe, your breathing coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

baekhyun’s pace quickens as he senses your mounting need. he latches onto your clit with his lips, sucking and flicking with just the right amount of pressure. his tongue dances in intricate patterns, making your body tense and shiver with every flick. the way his fingers are curled so deliciously inside you, driving you absolutely insane.

when you’re on the brink of breaking, he pulls back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. he catches his breath, his face flushed with desire, and whispers, "i want to hear you come for me, princess."

the combination of his words and his relentless touch sends you over the edge. you cry out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure ripple through you. your moans are a mix of relief and ecstasy, filling the room with the sound of your release.

baekhyun doesn’t stop; he continues to work you through your climax, his touch becoming more fervent as he revels in the way you respond to him. as your breathing starts to slow and your body relaxes, he finally lifts his head, his lips glistening with the evidence of his efforts.

he looks up at you with a satisfied smile, his eyes still burning with the heat of his desire. "did you enjoy that, princess?" he asks, his voice husky and full of passion.

you nod, your voice barely a whisper as you catch your breath. "yes, so so much."

he rises to his full height, his gaze never leaving yours as he undresses quickly, his need evident in the way he moves. he positions himself above you, his body pressing against yours as he prepares to take you again. with every inch of his touch, he shows you just how much he missed you and how deeply he wants you.

"we’re not done yet," he warns, a mixture of anticipation and dominance in his voice. the promise makes you both nervous for the soreness that might come but excited and hungry for him all the same.

as he enters you, you both find a rhythm that’s both urgent and deeply intimate. the room is alive with the sounds of your pleasure, each moan and gasp underscoring the intense connection you share.

baekhyun’s grip on your hips tightens as his breath becomes ragged with desire. "god, baby, you feel so fucking wet and tight around me," he rasps, his voice rough and strained. his thrusts start to grow erratic and uneven, betraying his approaching climax. despite his own mounting pleasure, he’s determined not to come before you; he’s willing to do anything to keep you on the edge.

"how do you fit me so perfectly?" he murmurs, his voice breathless as he continues to drive into you. "it’s like this pussy was made just for my dick." each word is punctuated by a deep, forceful thrust, his breath coming in heavy, labored bursts as he loses himself in the rhythm of your bodies entwined.

"right there, baek, please, i’m almost there. don’t stop, keep going," you plead, your voice trembling with need. to him, your words are like a symphony, each plea a melody that drives him further. he hits all the right spots, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, making you feel like you’re about to lose your mind.

“this pussy is mine, do you hear me?” baekhyun growls, his voice thick with desire as he bites down softly on that sensitive spot on your neck, his movements unrelenting and intense.

you nod frantically, your body teetering on the edge of climax. “yes, baek, i’m all yours.”

“say it again,” he demands, his voice low and primal.

“i’m yours. all yours. i’ll always be yours,” you whisper, breathless and needy, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and adoration for his possessive nature.

baekhyun groans deeply at your words, his mouth moving to capture the moans spilling from your lips. “that’s my princess,” his tone a commanding whisper. “now be a good girl and look me in the eyes when you cum for me.”

his raw, lewd words blend with the sound of your bodies colliding and the way the tip of his cock rubs against that sweet spot just right. the combination is overwhelming, and as you lock eyes with him, savoring the way his possessiveness makes you feel so entirely claimed, everything fades into a blinding white as you reach your climax.

he’s fucking you through your high, his voice a steady stream of praise and encouragement, telling you how perfectly you’re taking him. as he watches you unravel, he can’t ignore the thought of how unhealthy his obsession with you has become. each time he sees you like this, he feels himself sinking deeper into the addiction. but at this moment, he’s completely indifferent to the consequences. all that matters is the overwhelming, consuming need to possess you, to hear you scream his name as if it's the only salvation you crave.

he’s on the verge of losing control, his thrusts becoming erratic and desperate as he nears his climax. when he finally hits his peak, he spills into you with such intensity, his cum painting your inner walls in thick, hot streams. the mingling of his release with your own sends shockwaves of raw, unadulterated pleasure through both of you. the visual of him filling you, his essence merging with your own, only amplifies the overwhelming ecstasy, each shuddering pulse of his release driving you both further into a haze so fucking intoxicating.

breathless and spent, baekhyun collapses beside you onto the disheveled bed, the sheets a tangled mess around you both. your bodies glisten with sweat, slick and intertwined, hair plastered to your necks and foreheads. he turns to you, his expression a mix of adoration and raw desire. as he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, you gasp, feeling the heat of his breath mingling with yours, your bodies still trembling from the aftershocks of your intense connection. the kiss is deep and so filled with love and passion, pulling you into a whirlwind of sensation that makes you lose your breath all over again.

"i love you so much, baby," he murmurs against your lips, his voice laden with emotion. he brushes the tip of his nose with yours before speaking again. "i can't even comprehend how much i love you. i never thought loving someone with so much intensity was even possible."

you sigh into his kiss, your voice soft but heartfelt. "i love you, too, baek," you both pull apart, looking at each other with hearts in your eyes.

he gazes at you with a tenderness that contrasts sharply with the primal intensity of your earlier moments. his loving look makes you feel both cherished and slightly self-conscious, your cheeks flushing with a mix of shyness and warmth. "what is it?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

"move in with me," he says, his voice gentle and vulnerable. i want us to share a home and build a life together. no more ‘my place or your place’ bullshit—i want to come home every day and find you there, waiting for me."

his words resonate deeply within you, swelling your heart with love and a rush of excitement. after a moment’s contemplation, overwhelmed by emotion, you nod, your voice steady and filled with promise. “okay, let’s do it. let’s live together.”

baekhyun’s grin stretches from ear to ear as he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you with a possessive warmth. he presses soft, grateful kisses to the top of your head. "thank you. thank you. thank you," he repeats between each tender kiss, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

you giggle at his affection, savoring the tender moment. "but i get to choose the furniture," you tell him with a playful yet serious glint in your eye. as you look up, you interrupt his affectionate assault with a teasing smile causing him to pout. "and i want a room for all my books—a cozy reading area, like a sanctuary."

baekhyun’s eyes soften with adoration as he gazes at you, his love evident in every line of his face. "you can have everything you want, babe," he murmurs tenderly, pressing a gentle kiss to the spot between your eyes. "just as long as i get to drown in between your thighs every night."

his lewd comment sends a flush of heat through your core, intensifying the sensation as you suddenly feel his hardness pressing against you.

you flash him a mischievous smirk, unable to hide the effect his words are having on you. "already?" you tease, feeling the firm press of him against your core intensify, digging deeper with each breathless movement.

"i can’t help it," he breathes into your neck, his lips grazing your skin as he nibbles gently just above your collarbone. his hands reposition themselves, guiding his body over yours, readying himself for another round. "it’s like my dick is constantly hard for you."

just like baekhyun, your desire for him is insatiable—you’re always wanting him, always ready. that’s why you barely flinch at the sensitivity gnawing at your senses when the tip of his throbbing dick presses against your heated core. the anticipation only heightens your need, making every nerve in your body come alive.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close until your faces are mere inches apart. with a playful glint in your eyes, you tease, "our neighbors are going to hate us, aren’t they?"

baekhyun’s grin is wicked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "yes, they will," he agrees, his voice low and full of promise. before you can respond, he captures your lips in a fiery kiss, his urgency and desire palpable. the kiss is fierce and consuming, stealing your breath away as he deepens it, each movement charged with the intensity of his need.

"this is home,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice warm and soothing. his hands grip your waist, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as your bodies meld together in a passionate embrace. “you are my home.”

every kiss, every touch, shows how electric and real your connection is. it’s like the world outside doesn’t even matter—it's just you two, totally lost in this moment.

"you are my home," you repeat back to him.

���⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 a/n: two songs inspired me to write this!!! linked in the title hehe omg baekhyun is so 🫦 in this lol can #confirm firsthand that this is how he lays down the pipe ok (not rly but i don't think its so far fetched)

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[sunsetsandsunshine]

REQUEEEEEEEESTS LETS GOOOOOOOOO-wow I am nervous lols

Can I request mutant mayhem with Lee!Leo and Ler!April, please? (If ur wondering I am in fact that one anon that sent that long add-on idea I had spinning in my head after reading your MM Lee!Leo, Ler!Raph fic, hello! Glad you liked my ramblings ^^) no pressure if you don't feel like it tho!!

~ 𝙶𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕! ~

💛💙 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 💛💙

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝙷𝙷𝙷𝙷 𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴’𝚂 𝙽𝙾 𝙽𝙴𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝙽𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙾𝚄𝚂, 𝙱𝚁𝙾 🥹🫶🏾💖!!! 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 🕺🏾✨💕! 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚔, 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎’𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 💝! 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚖 🫨💘! 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎— 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚜 🤩💓˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟷𝟹𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 👩🏾‍🦱💛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚊 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚞𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 (𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢). 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚘𝚙’𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙱𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌— 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎. 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

T𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚐𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348  @itzsana-kiddingmenow 

@saturnzskyzz  @giggly-cloud  @savemeafruitjuice 

@rice-cake-teen10 @titters-and-tingles @veryblushyswitch

@tmntalways @pocky-dragon @jamiesgotchu @my-l0v3r-v3rse

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 (𝚎𝚠.) 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜. 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 😌🫶🏾!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!!!˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

School is what you make of it.

It could be absolute hell wrapped in a box to make it seem entertaining, or it could be a box full of oppurtunities and dreams awaiting you…but end up being hell either way. Do with that information as you will. 

And for April right now? School was definetly becoming a living hell…more than it already was anyway. 

It was near the end of school. Like— the very last week of school. The students have cleaned their lockers, they were done with finals and basically everything was completed in order to leave. 

So it still raises the question as to why April was still obligated to be here. She had one more week left of this torture called school, but it was starting to feel like an eternity!

And her last period class wasn’t making it any better either. 

It was Math.

Fucking. Math. 

And if you knew anything about Math periods…they took a century to finish. Plus, it was always so boring because their teacher would never. stop. yapping. 

“I want to go home.” April grumbled quietly, resting her cheek on her palm at her desk as their teacher— Ms. Miller— explained bullshit she didn’t know nor care about. Leo snorted in amusement at the comment, turning his head slightly at his friend who was beside him.

“Oh? Are you not enjoying Ms. Miller’s wonderful insight?” The teen in blue asked teasingly. Although, it was abundantly clear he too was not enjoying their teacher’s well known yap-sesh. 

The older teen just sighed in response, slouching in her chair as she crossed her arms across her chest, “This class is going to be on my suicide note.” She muttered under her breath. Leonardo put his hand over his mouth at her grumbled comment, looking down on his desk as he was trying not to laugh. 

Ms. Miller, who was at the front of the room smacked the whiteboard sternly with her ruler, causing the whole class to stiffen in surprise and look at her. 

“She goin' get me…” Mikey mumbled under his breath, causing the entire class to try and hold in their giggles the best they could. 

The teacher sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes before looking at the class, “Since it’s the end of the school year and I literally cannot wait to not see any of you for a good two to three months, let’s just do a Math activity for the remainder of class.”

“Awe!!! Your letting us play a game because you love us???” Mikey asked.

“No. I’m not giving you all a 'game' because I don’t feel like grading anything.” She responded. 

“Fair enough.” The turtle in orange mused as the teacher passed around sheet’s of paper with equations on it. “You can partner up with someone to complete all thirty questions. The first pair to answer all thirty questions and get them all right gets Dum-Dum lolipops.” She finished explaining as the kids gave knowing looks to each other, telepathically communicating with one another who would partner up with who. 

“…I feel like you’re trying to imply something with those lollipops, Ms. Miller…” Raph said as he raised a brow. The teacher let out a small laugh in response, sitting down at her desk as she went on her phone.

Okay…so perhaps this day wouldn’t turn out as bad as April initially thought. 

The girl in glasses gave her blue cladded mutant friend a knowing look, which he gladly reciprocated as she scooted closer to him and started to work on the problems together. 

“We are going to absolutely dominate every single fucking person in this classroom and win that candy.” The older teen said as she cracked her knuckles, taking out her pencil case and taking out a pencil. 

Which was the Ticonderoga No. 2 pencil of course. 

“…Are you sure?” The hazel eyed mutant asked as he looked over the problems, “I’m not that good in Geometry…”

“Pff— am I sure? Sure I’m sure! Your girl right here got an A in Geometry.” April smiled as she slung an arm over the other’s shoulders, “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Leo Lazilee. I’m going to absolutely carry our team to sugary sweet VICTORY!” 

The younger slightly blushed at the nickname, rolling his eyes fondly, “I told you to stop calling me that…” He mumbled out but the other could tell he did not mean it one bit. 

The girl in glasses grabbed her pencil, ready to start solving the problems before really and truly looking as to what was in front of her. 

“The fuck is this shit?” The girl questioned, looking at the paper as if it grew ten heads out of nowhere. Leo mentally facepalmed, looking at the sheet alongside his best friend as they both looked at it in confusion. 

“…Why does the Math problem have shapes…?” The leader in blue mumbled to his friend beside him. 

“…Okahay, we’re both officially stupid.” The girl in glasses chuckled out, putting the pencil on the table as she leaned back on the chair.

The hazel eyed teen rolled his eyes at the automatic acceptance of defeat from his teammate, “Your no help.” He huffed out, turning around in his seat to face the person behind him.

Which, if you’re wondering, was none other than his big beautiful brained little brother Donnie. 

Oh, and Raph was here too, I guess. 

“Psst, Don! PSST!!!” The leader in blue whispered to his brother although he was literally a centimeter away from him. The purple cladded turtle in question looked up from the worksheet to meet his older brother’s gaze, “Nardo, why are you whispering so loudly?” He questioned. 

“I need your answers for the worksheet thingie!” Leo said.

“Are you crazy?” The hoodie wearing turtle asked as he huffed out a laugh, “Me? Dona Tello? Give you my answers? HA! Sorry, dear brother of mine…you expect waaaay too much.” 

Raph was sitting next to Donnie as the two teammates went shoulder to shoulder and barricaded the worksheet with their arms so Leo couldn’t see the paper. At all. The eldest huffed, turning back around and slumping in his chair with his arms crossed. 

Well, since his brain and brawn brother’s did not want to help him and April through these dire times, perhaps his youngest brother would be of aid. 

Leonardo got up, walking a couple seats down to where Mikey and Mondo were. The two friends were just telling jokes to each other and doodling all over the back of the paper. The hazel eyed teen did nothave the patience and/or stamina to even ask the two if they knew it was a worksheet in the first place and not some coloring page.  

Besides, from what Leo heard, the two seemed to be having a meaningful convo about the Trump vs. Biden presidential debate, MLP, Helluva Boss, amusement parks and…grass. 

How do those topics all correlate in a conversation? Leonardo has absolutely no clue! 

But the two were making it work, so he wouldn’t question it. 

The eldest turtle went back to his seat, letting out a defeated sigh as April patted him on the shell comfortingly. “Seems like we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way...” The leader in blue muttered out as he sat up straight,  looking over the problems again.

After a couple minutes of Leonardo just aimlessly staring at the paper, April got impaitent and just grabbed the worksheet, looking at the problems for a split second before jotting down random answers. 

“Uh…Prill? You know I never question your unorthodox way of doing things…but I am 100% questioning it right now.” The younger teen said as he peeked over to look at the questions— which April was halfway done with.

“Trust the process, Nerdo. I’ll have us swimming in candy in no time!” The girl grinned, going into her pencil case to sharpen her pencil. The blue cladded turtle took one more good look at the paper and examined it thouroughly. 

Look, Leo’s only been in school for about a year now, but he’s 99.9% positive Geometry answers should not be just question marks. 

As the chocolate brown eyed teen was ready to write down another answer to the worksheet, the other snatched the pencil away from her quickly, glaring at her playfully as she glared playfully back. 

“Oho, Leo~!” The girl sang in a sing-song voice, “I would be ever-so grateful if you could give me back my pencil. My Ticonderoga No. 2 pencil to be exact.” She exclaimed with emphasis and whimsy. 

“Soho yohou can wrihite quehestion marks ahall over the paper? Yeheah…noho...” The mutant remarked. 

“Juhust gihive me my pehencil!”

“Noho!” 

April almost automatically poked Leo in the side due to his statement, causing the turtle to shriek in surprise as he flinched slightly from the touch. The random noise that escaped his mouth got a couple of concerned looks from his other classmates but they soon deflected and went back to doing their own thing. 

The slightly taller teen clutched the pencil to his chest like it was the last piece of pizza on Earth and he was fighting for it with every single fiber in his body. He scooted his chair slightly away from his friend but she easily and gladly followed, raising a brow in amusement and delight. 

“Why are you so nervous all of a sudden~?” She asked innocently as the other avoided her gaze, looking to the side of him as he was trying not to literally grab his backpack and sprint all the way back to the lair in complete terror. 

“Nardo~! My pencil, please!” The other smiled sweetly as she extended her hand, awaiting her fellow teammate to give back what was rightfully her’s. “Ahand ihif Ihi dohohon’t…?” Leo meekly asked, letting out a soft and tiny squeal as the older pinched his side again. 

“You know what’s going to happen, you goof. I have no problem doing this in front of everyone.” April said as she now squeezed Leo’s sides with her fingers. The slightly taller teen snorted, slightly sliding down in the chair as he tried to avoid his best friend’s attacks. 

“S-Stahahap!!” The blue cladded turtle giggled, batting at April’s arms with his arms weakly. The girl chuckled at the adorable sight, booping Leo’s nose before squeezing his sides once more. “You don’t really want me to stop though, do you?” She mused as the younger stomped his legs on the floor, trying his absolute best to keep his reaction to a minimum.

“Your brother and April need to get a room, brah…” Mondo chuckled in amusement as him and Mikey watched the scene unfold. The youngest turtle sighed knowingly, leaning back on his chair, “Tell me about it…”

The leader in blue weakly thrashed in his seat, hugging his middles whilst still having the pencil in his right hand. “Aha— *snort* AhaHAPRIHIL!” He giggly said.

The girl just smirked in response, sneaking her hands to the other’s underarms and resulting him to let out loud giddy cackles and snorts. “Oho~? Snorting already?” She asked.

The mutant shook his head back and forth, covering his mouth with his hands to try and muffle his laugh. The glasses wielding teen scoffed lightly at the action, digging harder into the other’s underarms. “Ohhhh no you don’t, Leo Lazilee. I am not allowing you to hide your precious giggles from me! Drop your hands~!” 

“FAHAH— *snort* *snort* MAHAKE MEEHEE!!” 

“Have it your way.” The elder teen said casually, effortlessly holding the leader in blue’s arms up as her fingers scribbled all over his stomach and sides. 

Leonardo threw his head back, stomping his feet on the ground as he tried to squirm away from April. “Tickle tickle tickle~!” 

“PFFT— *snort* NAHAHA!! D-DOHON’T EHEHEVEN *snort* *snort* DOHON’T *snort* SAHAHAY THAHAT!!!” 

“Hm? Don’t say what, Lee-o~? Tickle~?” April teased as the mutant’s laughter raised an octave. “NAHA— *snort* NOHOHO STAHAP IHIT!” 

“How about…no? Tickletickletickletickletickletickle~!” The girl continued to tease as she watched her best friend turn into a giggly puddle of snorts and squeals. “Is someone too tickle tickle ticklish~? Does this…tickletickletickletickletickle~?” 

The hazel eyed teen snorted loudly, “PRIHIHILLIE!!! PLEHEHEASE STAHA— *snort* NONONOHOHO— *snort* *snort* NAHAHAH!!!” 

“No what~? Are you too ticklish for this~?”

“SHUHUT *snort* UHUHAHAP!!” 

The chocolate brown eyed girl stopped her attack altogether at the sudden and very rude comment, glaring teasingly at her friend as if to say: 'Your about to get it.'

Raphael shook his head in mock dissapointment, eating a bag of Doritos as he was watching the one sided tickle fight right in front of him “Saying 'shut up' to April is absolutley wild. And doing that literaly four months after Women’s History month?! For shame, brother. For. shame.” The tallest turtle said dramatically. 

“Anyways, try aiming for his lower stomach. It drives him batshit crazy.” The second oldest turtle casually said, grinning as he saw the eldest giving him the nastiest stink eye. 

The girl smiled in awaiting triumph, “Okay then. Thanks— wait a sec. Raph, where the hell did you get Doritos from?!”

“My…backpack?” The red cladded turtle said as if his answer should’ve been obvious. 

“Dude, this is literally our last period.” Donnie laughed, still solving the last couple of problems on the worksheet.

“So? Last time I checked, this was a free country. I’ll eat Doritos any time and at any class period. Period.” Raphael announced as he ate more of the Dorito chips from the bag. The girl in glasses just rolled her eyes fondly, keeping her friend’s wrists in a hold as the other hand wiggled slowly to his lower stomach.

“N-NAHAH— *snort* *snort* NOHOHOH!!!”

“Gihive me my pehehencil yohou buffoon!” 

“IHIHI’LL *snort* STAHAB *snort* YOHOHOU *snort *snort* WIHITH IHIHIHIT!!!”

“You wanna see how that’ll end~?” 

“N-NOHO! NONOHOHO WAHA— *snort* WAHAIT IM SORRY!!” Leo cried out, being too tired to writhe or pry so he was just stuck laughing his shell off. The slightly older teenager payed him no mind, raising his arms a bit higher as she scribbled her nails all over his plastron and lower plastron. 

But ladies and gentlemen? Nothing…absolutely nothing could have prepared anyone in that classroom for what unfolded. 

The leader in blue let out a loud, genuine scream before descending into screechy cackles. April soon bursted into loud laughter along with Leo, wondering just how insanely ticklish a ninja turtle could possibly be. 

“EEEEEHEHEHAHAH!!! PLEHA— *snort* *snort* *snort* STAHAHAP!!! IHI CAHAN’T TAHAKE IHI— *snort*!!” Leonardo squealed as his laughter went up an octave or two. April was honestly genuinely surprised no teacher from the classrooms came to check up on them to make sure no one was fatally dying. 

The teachers aren’t really payed enough to care that much but still!

“TAHAKE IHIT! TAHAHAHAKE *snort* *snort* *snort* IHIHIT! PRIHIHILLIE PLEHAHA— *snort* *snort* PLEHEASE!” As the blue cladded mutant’s laugh and gasps became more frantic, the slightly smaller teen stopped tickling him, grabbing the pencil from his hands as she pat his shoulder comfortingly.

“I just wanted my pencil back. You took my property and I used self defense.” April said teasingly, reaching for the paper and erasing her previous answers to start again. “Ihi’m *snort* gohoing to fihile aha *snort* *snort* complaint…”

“Oho yeah? To who?” 

“To Daharth Vahader soho he cahan use thehe force on your ahashy ahass…” Leo grumbled through his giggles, sitting up in his chair as his best friend continued to finish the last of the problems. 

As the chocolate eyed teen finished up with the remainder of the problems, her and Leo got up to give the worksheet to the teacher. “Here you go, Ms. Miller! All thirty problems 101% completed.” The girl grinned. 

Their teacher raised a brow, pulling up the answer key on her computer as she looked over the two’s work.

“That’s incorrect.” Ms. Miller said.

“Ms. Miller…exactly what’s incorrect?” Leonardo asked. 

“…All of it.” The teacher explained. But before she could give the two partners some insight on whatthey did wrong and how they could improve, the two were pushed aside by Donnie and Raph. 

“Eat shit, suckers.” Raphael snickered as he handed their teacher the paper (he had sanitized his hands prior due to him eating Doritos earlier. He wasn’t an animal). 

“I don’t get paid enough for this…” Ms. Miller sighed, looking over the brain and brawn’s worksheet as she compared it with the answer key, “Good job you two. Everything is correct.” She said, pulling out one of the drawers on her desk to take out a big jar just full of Dum-Dum lollipops. 

She handed the huge jar to Raph who gladly accepted it, sticking his tongue out at Leo and April teasingly before directing his attention back to their teacher. “Thanks, teach.” He smiled, going back to his desk. 

Donnie on the other hand, started crying from pure joy, dramatically wiping a tear, “Ms. Miller…? Can you get my fellow classmate’s attention? I need to say something important.” He mumbled out meekly. “Here we go…” The leader in blue grumbled as him and April went back to their seats in defeat.

"If you don't like your destiny, don't accept it. Instead, have the courage to change it the way you want it to be." The purple cladded turtle said whenthe class settled down.

“THAT’S A QUOTE FROM NARUTO, YOU COPYCAT!!!” A kid in the class shouted. 

“SHUT UP, BRANDON!!! NOBODY ASKED YOU!!!” Donnie basically screeched at his classmate, his voice rising and being similar to the noise of nails on a chalk board. The whole class cringed at the voice crack but no one dared mention it. 

“A-And I just wanted to thank my manager! A-And my parents and colleagues…” The purple cladded mutant listed. 

“…Donnie has a manager…?” Mondo whispered to Mikey who merely just shrugged, “I’m just as confused as you are, broski…”

“And like big-mouthed Brandon over there mentioned, Naruto says you need to change things the way you want it to be.” The hoodie wearing turtle said wisely.

“So you guys should change the wires in your brains because there was an answer key to the worksheet at the back. But none of you imbeciles noticed.” He grinned, his smile widening as his classmates jaw’s dropped.

“Anyways, thank you all and to all a good night.” The purple cladded teen announced as he bowed dramatically, going back to his seat as him and Raph fist bumped, immediately digging into the lollipop jar.  

“I hope they get diabetes.” Leonardo grumbled as the bell rang. The quintet (group of five people in case you’re wondering :3) packing their bookbags and leaving the classroom along with their classmates.

This day definitely didn’t turn out as bad as April initially thought. 

She still would’ve appreciated winning, though.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[theotherbuckley]

Someone force me to delete twitter please.

[ralvezfanatic]

love reading Spencer x Reader HCs that they're like "he loves the size difference between you !! its so cute how short you are >_<"

like did yk tall people exist ? like if ur talking abt women.. there are tall women as well

or like "he loves how easy you are to pick up and carry around :3 and how he can manhandle you with no issue teehee"

first of all, that man is a twig idk abt him picking up anyone with ease.. l

secondly, oooh bigger ppl exist !! who cannot always be easily carried or manhandled !! especially by Spencer. maybe another character, but Spencer ?? are we talking about the same Spencer ?? Spencer Reid ?? nuh-uh !!

That guy doesn't manhandle anyone !! he isnt rough with anybody bro. ur lucky if he soft doms you. (this one is js my person opinion)

i swear, some x reader fics are either some x oc or a x self insert

idk if its js cuz im a guy, but i cannot stand x reader stuff where they make Reader some short skinny girl ?? cuz what abt other Readers who are tall or chubby/plus sized.

its so annoying omg ??

[petz5]

if u cure ranma’s curse in fanfic i hate u 😔 fics where he regrets it and realizes he’s not actually a guy afterwards are on thin fucking ice and i’m still not reading them bc that premise is too sad

[yowzeight]

you know when you're reading a fic with marius in and you're having a great time and half way through they start describing him or like mentioning some of his physical features and you're like ah . ah they're describing eddie redmayne and your day is ruined and you jump out the window

[ah0yh0y]

maybe its because i relate to liv to deeply but Her scene in the last ep resolved far too quicklyy. i think she needed to have breathing space more time to let it settle. it kinda just felt like liv was just going along wiht what everyone said. even if i know it was her decision.

[ohlovxr]

guys…. idle threats by pearlessance on ao3 has been making me so horny for the past month… but like… chapter nine is making me want to pull my hair out i’m literally still thinking about it with white hot rage

[petrichorium]

Happy anniversary of the time I wrote 20k words in a week and got ghosted by the artist who was supposed to make art for the fic lol

[taegularities]

oh we do remember ruin you. what’s more, i ever remember messeging you right after the 1st chapter and saying imagine what if (pls don’t judge me, i just love angsty angst) oc would start to fall in love with tae and go to have a little one on one with him, without jk 👀

little did i know, little did i know 🥴😵‍💫🫣😔

omg i got embarrassed and deleted the post, but i guess you still saw it ahhh!! 😭 but… wait, the VERY FIRST CHAPTER? waittttt that was… *finger-counting* 2.5 freaking yrs ago!! you've been here for 2.5 yrs????? will you take virtual smooches bc omg 😭

even crazier, i think i v much remember your ask!! back then i didn't have a full story planned yet, so i thought y'all were insaneeee for wanting all that angst lmaooo 🤣 so glad i pulled through, though. the ry time was honestly irreplaceable. <3

[ravensmadreads]

Youre giving me life rn the tags are so funny. Thank you!

Shut up your fic has me in a chokehold???? It's so funny and soft and hot and amazing and I can totally see future heartbreak but I'm still gonna finish it and okay im gonna shut up now

IT'S KILLING ME

P.S Anita Moreno is a badass and I love her.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Cherry Boy. [l.c.]

Chapter One of "Losing it". Reminder that each chapter in this series is stand alone and can be read without reading any of the others!

A new relationship is always difficult to navigate, for Chan, it appears to be even more difficult. For you? You’re just left confused as to why your new boyfriend of a month and a half hasn’t made a move on you despite your very obvious attempts to invite him into your personal space.  You soon realize that your boyfriend is a virgin, and that’s why he’s always running away with his hands covering his bits, even through a simple goodnight kiss. 

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | reblog for chan's happy trail

WORDCOUNT― 10k

PAIRING― lee chan x afab reader 

CONTENT― brief break up due to horrible communication skills, virginity loss, reader gets super insecure about her body and personality, fluff, smut obv

NOTE― This is the reason I gave chan the first chapter in the series. It's because of those pics...you know the ones. Anyway, shoutout to @ressonancee and @onlyhuis for proof reading this for me! love u guys with my entire being!

smut tags under cut:: 

SMUT TAGS― virginity loss, makeout session, neck kissing, tit fondling, unprotected sex, belly button kissing, mentions and focus on his happy trail, he’s ticklish oops, blowjob, premature ejaculation, pussy drunk chan forgets how to speak, desperate sex babbling, finger fucking, hand and cock guiding, cream pie 

~

Chan has a dilemma, and yes, it’s one that most men would scoff at. 

Trust him when he says that he is so very aware of what is happening around him but he simply cannot manage to muster up the courage, strength, or confidence to admit to you, his lovely and patient girlfriend, that he’s dodging your advances solely because he is the text-book definition of virgin. 

He is not only nervous about having sex for the first time, but there also comes the weight of him either not being good enough when he tries, or you laughing in his face and mocking him for it.

You, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so fucking in your head if he really could just muster up a tiny amount of confidence to say that to you. 

It has been almost two months now since he asked you to be his girlfriend, and throughout this time never once has he done more than a gentle kiss to your lips or lying a slight guiding hand to your waist. It feels so… juvenile, so… middle school for a boyfriend to treat you this way. 

Seeing as how the first three dates you went on with him seemed to suggest he was more than willing to be a fulfilling boyfriend who can, hopefully, fill all of the roles that comes with the title– you’re starting to second guess that he ever liked you at all.

Perhaps the twenty-four year old man asked you that night to be his girlfriend out of pity. Or maybe he’s simply changed his mind about you. Regardless of the reason for why he acts like this, it’s getting to you.

Deeply, actually, by this point. It only stung a bit at first, but now it’s starting to feel like he has to be with you as a joke. Why else would he be consistent in wanting to hang out? Why else would he always be inviting you out on well-priced dates and buying you pretty gifts? 

It’s a joke. 

It has to be a joke. 

Oh, but that’s so far from the truth. If you would simply open your eyes, perhaps you’d notice the struggle that your polite little boyfriend goes through each time you try to suggest he make an advance on you. 

Even the slight kisses, it makes him suffer from embarrassment at how quickly his body reacts to you. 

He likes you so, so fucking much.

~

“I don’t think I’m feeling it today.” You respond to the muffled voice of your “boyfriend” on the phone, asking if he can come over to see you. 

“What? Why not?” He asks back, his voice concerned. 

“Do you want me to be honest?” You finally say with a long and annoyed sigh, giving up on any hope that this relationship will ever go any further than it already has. 

You’re fed up with feeling unwanted, undesired, and possibly even uninteresting. He’s the one person in your life that you care about when it comes to who you are and what you look like. His reaction, or lack thereof, regarding you as both a person and his girlfriend feels astonishing and does nothing more than make you question what it is that you’re doing wrong. 

It has to be you, right? Perhaps your body isn’t as pretty as he wants it to be, is that it? Or maybe your voice annoys him? God, what if he cringes thinking of how you’d move if he were to actually have sex with you? What if he doesn’t think about it at all? 

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to let the intense insecurity weigh on you. You always promised yourself that you’d never let a man make you rethink your worth. 

You need to live up to that promise. 

“Chan, it’s been nice and all, but I think we should break up.” 

The silence he offers to you is entirely too loud, and feels more like a confirmation in your head that this is the exact choice you should be making right now. 

He’s thrown for a loop though, standing at his kitchen table staring off at the wall as you say those words. 

What did he do wrong? 

“Wha–” He cuts himself off, trying to find words to say. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

You let out another breathy sigh, annoyed at the way he plays dumb. 

“I’m shocked you’re asking me that. I’ve been wondering if you were ever going to break up with me yourself, y’know?” You let out a sad little chuckle before you feel that insecurity he instilled in you burn against your eyes. “I’m just making it easy for you, so that you can go and spend your time with someone that you’d rather be around.”

He pauses, still dumbfounded by what you’re saying. 

“Why are you saying that?” He bellows out in a deeper tone, making you feel as though he’s angry with you now. “I’d rather be around you.” 

“Oh? Is that right?” You roll your eyes now, annoyed. “Is that why you push me away when I try to kiss you? Or what about– what about when you left the party last week after I sat on your lap?” 

Ah. He knew it. He knew he should have admitted it. Despite his consistent apologies for his body acting on instinct to run away from you, he should have really tried to see from your point of view rather than his own. Even if he only ran to hide the fact that he is horribly aroused by you at all times, in every given moment. 

You can hear a pained groan fall from his lips, and a door opening on his end. 

“I’m coming over.” 

He doesn’t let you protest, and instead hangs up the phone. You sit there in silence at his rejection of your break up. As if it were his choice? As if he had any say in it? You want to break up, that’s final. 

Still, that doesn’t explain why you don’t call him back to tell him not to come. It also doesn’t explain why your heart is thumping against your chest in anticipation.

Or, maybe there is something to explain why you’re feeling butterflies over his blatant refusal. Perhaps, this is the first time you’ve felt wanted by him? 

That also makes it worse. Why should your boyfriend make you feel this way only when you’re breaking up with him? Why can you only see that he cares when he’s faced with the idea of losing you? By the way he’s acting, you can argue that he wouldn’t be losing anything precious to him if you were to walk out of his life right this moment. 

Still, you sit here in wait. More curious now to see if maybe you'll figure out why he refuses to look at or touch you in a way that would show you he wants you.

~

The first thing Chan does when he steps through the door of your apartment is slip his shoes off. The second thing he does is stand there awkwardly, as if every thought left his head upon seeing your face.

You look like you’ve been crying. 

“This is my fault.” He says with a slight crack in his voice. “Because I keep hiding from you….right?”

You nod silently, remaining on your couch that faces his timid and stiffened figure. 

He stares at you, examining the consequences of his own actions. 

“You want to break up because I haven’t tried to, like, do things with you.” He winces as he says it, struggling to not feel awkward talking about having sex. He’s embarrassed, but would be even more embarrassed if he lost a girlfriend over this. 

“That’s not the only reason.” You shake your head, looking away from him and to your hands as you pick at your nail beds. “I’d be okay with no sex if you’d simply tell me why. The fact that you haven’t told me anything–” Your voice cracks a little bit, feeling stupid for being so emotional over such a short lived relationship. “It kind of destroyed my confidence.”

He watches the way you refuse eye contact, which is something that stabs him directly in the stomach. He can feel it drop to the floor, adrenaline making its way into that empty space you’re creating for him. 

“Before we break up, I just want to know why it took this for you to act like you genuinely might have feelings for me.” 

He stumbles over his thoughts the same way he stumbles over his feet trying to approach you. 

By now, he doesn’t think he can ever feel more embarrassed than he does at this moment. He crouches down in front of you, sad that you didn’t laugh at the way he nearly knocked himself out on your living room floor. Then he looks at you, chasing your line of sight as if to reassure you through nothing but the air in the room.

“I was afraid you’d laugh at me.” He starts, and after seeing that your expression doesn’t change even a little bit, he continues. “You seemed so into me that I–” He takes a deep breath, willing himself to be as honest as he can be. “I just didn’t know how to act.” 

You look at him with irritation at those words. 

“Of course I was fucking into you. Why else would I have agreed to be your girlfriend?” You roll your eyes, pushing yourself back into the couch cushions and away from his crouched body. “Think about how I feel. The fact that you just watch me throw myself at you time and time again? The fact that you rejected me every single time? How is that not giving you the answers you need as to why I’m breaking up with you?”

He takes note of that heightened voice of yours, defensive and likely more hurt than you’re letting on. 

“Listen–” He breathes in, trying to internally hype himself up to bite the bullet. 

You were listening, but he’s keeping whatever it is he’s thinking about in his head for just a second too long. 

“No, I think we’re done h-” 

“I’m a virgin.” He interrupts you, lowering his gaze to the floor and refusing eye contact with you. 

Your eyes shoot to him though. The last thing you would have expected was for him to be a–

“You’re–” You try to repeat his words for confirmation, but he interrupts you again. 

“I can promise you it’s not because I don’t want to do these things with you.” He says, still staring at the floor. “It’s because I was afraid that you’d lose interest over it.” 

Your mouth falls open as you look at him, every feeling of frustration in your body disappearing almost immediately. 

“It’s because I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to, like, be any good at it.” He continues to admit. “I was trying to work up the courage to tell you, or to just like, do it.” He rambles, now scooting back and standing up to his feet. “And if you still want to break up, I understand. I just thought I at least owed you an explanation.” 

You watch as he nods to himself in an unsure way, turns on his heel, and heads back to the door to slip his shoes back on. 

You sit in stunned silence as your brain erases every single insecurity you gained over this month and a half relationship before jumping to your feet. If anyone could have been more insecure about this than you were, it was him. And now that you can see that, the guilt hits you twice as hard as the presumed break up would have. 

“You’re a virgin?” You ask, though that wasn’t at all the words you intended to say. “I mean, you kept pushing me away because you didn’t want to disappoint me?”

He nods timidly, halting his body and still refusing to look at you. 

He has one shoe on, and his other foot half in the other when you make your way over to him, closing the distance quickly and confidently.

“Don’t leave.” You say first, before physically moving his body for him to remove that foot from his half-on shoe. “Chan, I’m your girlfriend. We can wait for as long as you need, I just...”

You pause, now feeling annoyed with yourself for making it about you. Then again, it’s not like you could read his mind. Though, thinking back to all of those instances where he pulled away from you before, perhaps you could have read context clues a little better. 

“I didn’t know–” You trail off, now determined to save the relationship that both of you accidentally started to sink. “Did I make you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

He feels…relieved by your words. Saying you could wait, asking what it is that made him so afraid to admit it. 

Finally, he presses one foot against his other, pulling his foot out of his shoe and stepping back, looking at you with eyes fonder than you’ve ever seen them.

“It’s not that I felt I couldn’t tell you. I was just embarrassed.”

You very nearly coo out at him, but you keep your distance with both your words and your body now. 

“It’s not that I’m not ready to lose it. Especially with you.” He admits, glancing at you for a reaction before sighing. “I think I’ve been ready for a long time, again, I was just embarrassed and also knew that I should probably tell you at some point…”

“You want to give your virginity to me?”

You watch as he blows his hair up through puckered lips, rolling his eyes before smiling at you.

“It’s not that I view virginity as sacred or anything either. There’s just a lot of weight that people tend to put on it, and I wasn’t sure how you’d react.” He tries to explain as his body relaxes by the minute. “I wanted you to be my first time, yeah. When I asked you to be my girlfriend, I knew I wanted you to be the one to show me what all the hype is about.”

You’d laugh if it weren’t for the fact that this is still kind of a touchy subject. You’re not entirely sure how you feel about being someone’s first time, but you know you have feelings for him and to deny him of sex after you blatantly wanted it so bad from him…Okay, maybe you’re just in your head. Of course you’d be happy to be his first time. 

Ecstatic even. 

“So….” You sway on your feet, looking up at the ceiling before landing your eyes on him playfully. “It’s not because you think I’m disgusting or like, not living up to the standards you want for a girlfriend?”

“Jesus, no.” He says. 

You watch him scratch the back of his head, still probably embarrassed by how low this relationship had fallen due to the awful communication skills. 

“And you’re also kind of admitting that you have thought about it?” You continue, prying out the words you’ve wanted to hear so badly since you met him. 

He pulls back only a little bit, his cheeks warming at the words and the way his brain automatically thrusts him into the thoughts of all of those nights where he absolutely fucking thought about it. 

“Y-yeah. Yes. I have thought about it.” He nods in a self-reassuring way as his eyes land on everything in the room but you. 

You’re quick to give him your own reassurance though, trying to learn his boundary now that the secret is out and the relationship appears to have a second chance at succeeding. 

He can feel you close in on him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your face against his neck. There, he holds you back, breathing in deep and feeling the scent of you wash through his body. 

Quite literally actually. As he would normally avoid, his lower half reacts far too quickly to even the simplest of touches from you. 

He pulls back on instinct, but you don’t release your grip this time. 

“You seem as ready as ever, I’ll admit.” You laugh upon feeling him stiffen against you, but you really do try not to shame him for it. “Still, we can wait until you feel ready enough to give it a shot, okay?”

He nods, entirely reassured by the way you don’t press up against it or comment any further about the happenings in his pants right now. Then he sighs out. 

“I can imagine I must look like an idiot right now, getting hard over a fucking hug.” He finally says as he pulls from the hug and makes his way back to your living room. “But we’re okay, right? You’re not breaking up with me?”

You follow after him, keeping your sexual distance, but absolutely indulging in the loving, sweet, and careful cuddling you’ve wanted to do with him for so long now. 

He appears comfortable when you tuck yourself under his arm and rest your head on his chest before answering him.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” You say, feeling his chest heave with each breath and intentionally ignoring the blatant tent in his pants slowly fall back into its flaccid position as he calms down. “It’s kinda cute, you know? That you were so worried about it.” 

His cheeks are still on fire, willing his body to calm itself through this sweet session of cuddling. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment with you, and still, it is embarrassing in the way he knows you’re ignoring it for his sake too.

But goddamn, how heavenly it would be for you to like, touch it right now…..or something. 

“Never thought of it as cute, if I’m being honest.” He tries to joke. “If anything, maybe it's a little pathetic on my part.”

You shake your head against him, feeling more confident of your place in his life. 

“Pathetic? Don’t be mean to yourself. Besides, it’s kind of hot knowing that you got so turned on over a simple hug.” You laugh, hoping you’re not crossing a boundary. “No wonder you ran so fast when I sat on your lap, I definitely would have felt that on me.”

“Alright, alright–” He tries to hush you of your playful remarks, but ultimately, if you really think it’s an attractive aspect of whatever sexual dynamic the two of you will come to have, he’s going to make damn sure you see just how fucking turned on you make him. 

~

Things are good. Great even, now that you can pin point each moment your boyfriend gets a little too overwhelmed with you. He does still push you away, probably out of instinct but he doesn’t shy away nearly as much from intimate moments with you. Especially if the two of you are alone together. 

You’re a bit more careful in public or with friends though, because the last thing you want to do is make him feel insecure about it. Still, there are playful moments where you indulge in the act of touching him or kissing him just to get him excited, just to watch him stutter his way through ordering something. 

The point is, you almost ended a relationship with someone who, arguably, makes you feel more wanted than you ever knew you could. It’s nice, and it feels good. 

Even now, this is only your second full on make-out session with him, you feel absolutely adored. It’s cute in the way he’s trying to train himself to not get hard at even the simplest of touches, it’s even cuter when his efforts fail miserably and he’s arching his body away from you as if he could even hide what he’s packing. 

You don’t push for more, despite wanting it badly. He also doesn’t push…despite also wanting it just as much as you do, if not more. He still seems to need a push of confidence to actually go any further than a nice, non-body touching makeout session. 

This is fine though, and you indulge far more than you ever knew you would when it comes to this kind of thing. As if simply licking into his mouth is foreplay enough to counter a fucking blowjob for him. 

Never in your life did you think you’d be this into the fact that your boyfriend is a virgin. And it’s not even that he’s never had sex, it’s that he seems to want it so bad, and there’s just something about a man who is desperate that gets you going these days. 

Still, kissing him is something that fulfills you, especially with the way he’s avoiding his lower half and keeping it away from you. 

He kisses you back in a telling way though, more telling than that tent in his sweatpants that you can visualize even while your eyes are closed. He radiates the arousal through the way he moves his lips against yours, and the way he lets out little suffering sounds when you kiss him harder and harder. 

His hands stay against your face, neck, and sometimes your waist, but god. His kissing is genuinely just so good with the way it tells on him every few seconds. 

And when he pulls back, he’s out of breath, flushed, and looking as if he would want nothing more than for you to hint, to lay down some sort of implication that he can cling to for relief from the heaviness that’s been in his pants since the fucking relationship started.

You wonder if tonight is the night, because he doesn’t appear to want to stop making out like he did last time. If anything, as he looks at you with those heaving breaths, you can tell he’s thinking harder than he ever has about it. 

“Chan,” You whisper out to him, just inches from his face. “Do you think of me?”

When he keeps his eyes on you, seemingly stunned by your question, you continue. 

“Do you think of me after you leave? When you’re all by yourself in your room–” You turn your head so that your eyes can trail to the space he is attempting to keep from you. “When you’re touching yourself?” 

He feels the words run straight through him, causing an utterly pathetic twitch in his pants. The way your voice comes out soft and sensual as you ask him, as you look at him. He doesn’t even remember words at this moment, not even a simple “yes”. 

He tries to answer by losing a little bit of his self control, turning your head back to him with his palm just so he can chase against your lips out of the sheer arousal, but you pull away. 

“Do you?” You continue, encouraging him to answer you. 

“So much,” He wills himself to whisper confidently, ignoring the fact that his body just forced him to rut up and against nothing, all for you to see. “Every time I leave,” He puts emphasis on his words. “Sometimes I can’t even make it home first.” 

You smile at the image of him rubbing against himself in his car, so desperate to relieve himself of what you do to him each time he comes to see you. Not even making it out of the seatbelt before releasing all over himself, all in his pants. Shaking, panting, all alone and without you. 

“Cute,” You chuckle, finally turning your head slightly and landing a pop kiss on him. “I think of you when I do it too, every time you leave.” 

He looks at you, willing his hips to stay put as he thinks about the image of you doing that in this very room, to images and thoughts of him. 

“You do?” He asks for reassurance easily.

“Mhm,” You look away from him as you sit straight up and then scoot down the bed. There, you lay yourself down against your pillows and look at him. “Come here.” 

He’s reluctant to take your hand. But even he can admit that this side by side makeout session is starting to hurt his neck, and you’re clearly asking him to get on top of you right now. 

“You don’t have to but, Chan–” You say, looking down, “I don’t want you to leave this time.” 

Well, shit, all you had to do was say that. Honestly, the way you look at him with pure acceptance is enough to push him past the wall in his head that keeps him from finally trying to take the next step. You accept him as he is now, surely you’d accept him if he…. doesn’t last, right? What about if he isn’t good at it? 

Still, he finds himself planting one hand on the other side of your head to balance himself on top of you. Still just hovering, not yet wanting or willing to, you know, put it against you. 

You smile. 

“It’s okay, I can tell you’re nervous. We don’t have to do anything else, I’m happy with just this.”

And then you both fall back into another, much more comfortable and natural feeling, makeout session. 

As much as you’d love for him to try and take control, his reluctance allows you to contain yourself. It allows you to respect him and his decision of whether or not he wants to do anything more than this. Still, this satisfies you. And if he really does stay, maybe he wouldn’t be entirely against watching you take care of your own arousal for him. Maybe he’d feel better watching even, taking notes on what you like, learning where to touch you. 

And you know, that really would have been okay but you can’t help but feel like he’s definitely wanting more. With the way his lips grow hungrier rather than more tired, with the way he’s starting to moan shamelessly into your mouth, with the way his hands are trying to travel to more intimate places on your body before stopping himself. 

You might be pushing it with the assumption, but it doesn’t hurt to try and help him, right?

When you feel his hands moving to your waist, up, up, and up until they’re just barely brushing against the underside of your breast, he pulls back again and pulls your shirt down to cover the exposed skin, all while kissing you harder.

You place your hand over his, wasting not even a second as you guide him back under your shirt, right up to where you know he wants to touch. 

And holy fuck does he. He doesn’t even pull back when you lay it against the warm and exposed flesh from under your shirt. His hand immediately starts groping. His lips immediately stutter against you in a relieved sigh from him, and all you can do is kiss him now with the same energy he seems to have in that one single hand. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, but if you need help doing it, just tell me–” You pull back to whisper, trying to take it another step further in the act of kissing against his jaw and down his neck. “I want to touch you too, but I’ll keep my hands to myself unless you tell me otherwise.”

It’s like he really forgets how to talk or give proper consent when his entire body is acting like a fucking greenlight for you right now. He feels so pathetic, on the verge of orgasm with nothing more than the soft fabric of his sweatpants to relieve him, and yet your breast in his hand, nipple hardening under his palm before he musters the courage to put it between his fingers, it’s a lot to take in, okay?

Still, he tries to say something, and he’s even more embarrassed by the way his voice sounds like it isn’t even his own. He sounds broken when the sound reaches his ears. 

“Don’t–” He starts, cutting himself off at the feeling of your lips kissing against the pulse point of his neck. 

“Hm?” You ask, pulling back and away, hoping you didn’t press too much. 

“Don’t stop.” He mutters out again, a little less embarrassed now that he feels you sigh against that same pulse point with the way his fingers fondle your nipple mindlessly. “Don’t keep your hands to yourself.”

Your brain falls into a stunned silence at his words, bringing a type of nervousness to bubble up in your own body. Is this really it? Is this when it’s going to happen? On a saturday night, against your pillows, muffled cartoons playing in the background…..past ten in the evening? 

You can’t help it as you kiss against his neck. You really can’t, with the way he opens himself up to be vulnerable with you while actively being on top of you, while playing with your breasts, while containing himself.

He seems to need you to do the pushing, but you really cannot shake the nervousness of being his first. You’re almost certain he is nervous about so many things, but still he appears to be eager to try. He’s eager to be with you, and, ultimately, to know what it feels like to be with another person that matters to him in that way. 

“Is there–” You stop, breath caught in your throat, only to fall out against his throat when he finally seems to have the confidence to make his first move. One that would seem so small to anyone else, but he– he raises a hand and holds the back of your neck, trying to press your lips and guide them to the area of his neck that he wants you to kiss. 

And you do, with blatant encouragement to him for doing that, all while trying to finish your previous thought. 

“Is there anything you want me to do for you?” You ask, kissing and now, licking against the spot on his neck that makes him shiver. 

He sighs in a shudder, craning his neck to expose more skin for you before his hand stills against your nipple and he pulls his hand from your shirt. 

“All of it?” He starts, a bit unsure of himself. “Everything?” He adds, pulling himself back from your lips and watching you fall back to your pillows. He leans his body up, relieving his legs from his weight and sitting on his heels in front of you, only slightly between your legs now. 

You can see that he has a bit more confidence with the way he’s looking at you. 

“I want to try all of it.” He continues, placing two hands on your knees, pushing your legs together and using his palms to make them sway left and right. It’s as if he’s thinking hard. “I mean, if you want to.”

You smile. 

You want nothing more than to do this with him, for him, and for yourself. 

“Yeah?” You ask for confirmation, now lifting yourself and re-positioning yourself onto your knees to mimic his own stance. 

He nods in a blatant and shy way, knowing that you can physically see how badly he wants this, and how badly he wants you to be the one to do this with him. He’s achingly hard, and he isn’t sure if he’s ever managed to get this fucking hard in his entire life.

It really is painfully arousing, with the way his pants stretch against the head when he’s sitting like this. The way the fabric offers little to no sensation but while looking at you, he feels all fucked up and warm. He tries to forget that there’s precum all over him, seeping through the pants that are presented before you, and god, the way you look right at it. 

He doesn’t shy away despite being as shy as he could possibly be right now. In fact, when your eyes trail back up to him, licking your lips before smiling, he a fucking goner. He knew he wanted you bad, but never did he know he needed you this badly. 

He’s so fucking lucky. 

“It looks… big.” You comment, leaning forward only slightly and sizing your boyfriend up. “But for your sake, I’ll try to control myself from moving too fast. I’ll go slow, okay?”

He doesn’t even nod, he’s too entranced with you in front of him, fully clothed, lifting his own shirt off of him as if he is incapable of doing it himself. Then again, he kind of is incapable at this moment. He swears his IQ must’ve dropped to a single digit by this point. 

And when that shirt comes up and over his head, you note that he doesn’t even blink. That small moment where his face was obscured as you pulled it off of him? His eyes stayed on you both before and after, only now– his hair is a total fucking mess and all you can do is feel endeared by it. 

“God, you’re so fucking attractive,” You groan in sexual frustration with an eyeroll. “I can’t believe someone hasn’t jumped your bones yet.”

Now he breaks eye contact at the praise, glancing away from you and trying his hardest not to smile like an idiot at those words. 

“To be fair, I’ve fucked up my fair share of relationships being embarrassed.” He laughs. “Kinda glad I did though.”

You land your eyes back on him, staring blankly at his naked chest and trying your damnedest not to look at him like he’s some piece of meat. But goddamn, the body of this man. 

“Come here, switch places with me.” You smile, reaching forward and trying not to think too hard about the way his arms flex when you grip them to move him. “Here, lay back.” 

And within seconds, you’re between his legs and looking down at his half-lidded, arousal driven eyes. 

“Fuck, really?” You groan again, glancing away. “It’s really taking everything in me, Chan, it really is.”

His heart is doing flips as he stares up at you. He feels doted on, adored, attractive. So he encourages more of those annoyed praises from you. 

“Taking everything in you to…?” 

You chuckle, because the audacity of this drunk and in love fool. 

“Do you have any idea how badly I’ve wanted to be in this exact position?” You smile, reaching down to run your fingers down his chest and straight to that happy trail that he so readily hid from you. “It’s taking everything in me to slow down–”

“Then don’t.” He says proudly, albeit still a bit shy at your words. 

You can see how red his ears are, only partially hidden by that head of messy ass hair. His stupid pretty eyes and gentle smile are directed straight at you without any type of reluctance. 

“There’s my confident boyfriend.” You chuckle, toying with the hair beneath his belly button and trying to not comment on the way his body jumps a bit at the feeling. “Was wondering where he went after he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

And he remains silent after that, watching the way you take the reins and lean down to kiss against that same spot of his neck. Warm breath fanning over the skin before attaching yourself there. 

Surely you can feel the way his hips react, humping up at each flutter of your lips. If you couldn’t, he knows for a fact that you’ll be able to now. With the way you trail down, across his own sensitive nipples, and then down, down, down. 

He glances down at you at the same time when you glance up at him and right then and there he thinks he melts. He’s never seen a woman look at him from this angle, and it’s only a little bit detrimental to his heavy and pathetic cock. The twitching never stops, he feels so fucking sticky in his pants and it really just doesn’t stop. Continuous leaking, and he really had no idea that there could even be this much pre-cum. 

Then, he’s pulled out of his thoughts with….a tickle?

“Oh?” You smile, leaning down to repeat that lick up his happy trail before landing a kiss straight on his belly button. 

His body jumps again, and he lets out a moaned chucked unintentionally. 

“Oh.” You smile wider, gripping both of his hips with your hands and holding him down in a playful way. Repeating the act once again. 

Your suspicions are confirmed with a third jump of his body, and another chuckled, frustrated moan. 

“So, he’s ticklish too?” You say with another kiss against his belly button before fluttering your fingers at the side of his hips. 

His entire body goes rigid before melting against the bed in an attempt to not react to the way you take advantage of a hidden weakness he had. God, he should have known that…like, sex stuff could be ticklish. 

“No– I’m not.” He lies, jolting again when you continue to test the resilience he thinks he has against your lips and fingers. “Hey–!”

And, well, you would’ve stopped if it weren’t for the fact that his hips raise with each tickled sensation, and you can genuinely feel how damp and heavy he is in his pants. It’s entirely arousing in the way its weight is obvious through his attempts to wiggle from your ticklish touches. 

“Alright,” You finally relent, landing one final kiss to his belly before licking down that same line of hair he offers his body. “Chan, I want to–”

His hips immediately raise to your words, the wetness from your tongue feels like ice against his skin when the air hits it and at this point, he thinks he knows what you’re suggesting. 

“Please–” He nearly cries out in a stutter. “Touch it.”

You smile as you nuzzle your nose against his abdomen before giving him a short nod that you know he doesn’t see. Considering, well, he just threw his arm over his face and keeps his hips tensed, and his ass only slightly lifted off of the bed. 

Desperate. Willing. 

You prepare yourself for seeing it for the first time by not seeing it at all just yet. Instead, you kiss down until your lips are met with warm, damp fabric. Immediately you can feel his length twitch under your lips when you reach it, and all you can manage to do is flatten your tongue out and against it to feel it pulse again. 

And again, until that same arm thrown over his face reaches down in a desperate attempt to take the pants off for you. He’s the one losing his self control now, no embarrassment or nervousness in sight from him, and it’s so fucking attractive to see him do it.

His shaking fingers fumbling with the waistband, shoving the pants down just an inch or so more to reveal more of that trimmed hair.

You don’t comment on the way he’s acting out of fear that it’ll make him feel shamed or even mocked, despite you truly believing it might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen a man do in front of you. 

Instead, you help him. Sinking your own fingers beneath his pants and tugging them down all in one go before allowing your eyes to land on it. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” He moans out, the air alone offering an overwhelming amount of sensation due to the temperature change he now feels between his legs. 

You finally look at it, so dark in color. As if all of the blood in his body resides only here. You gently move your hand just over it, feeling the heat radiate from him, seeing the precum continuously dribble from the head, and then, finally– 

“You’re so….” You trail off, in awe of the way his body just….keeps reacting. So much pre-cum. “Hard.” 

He releases a broken little sound at the feeling of your fingers finally touch him, and it feels insanely different from when he touches it himself. As if he’s not in control of his pleasure, and it’s all just you. You are the one who feels good against him. 

You’re shocked briefly when his hand makes it’s way back down to yours, grabbing it and essentially trying to get you to stimulate him more. He puts so much pressure against your hand, sandwiching it between his own palm and stiffened cock. 

You’re tuly in awe. This man has essentially edged himself to a world record, surely. 

“Slow down,” You try to soothe him, moving your hand against him and watching him retract his hand. “Relax, It must feel good, right?”

That little sob he lets out shows you his frustration. So needy, so ready. And even with you moving your fingers to circle his pulsing length, his hips continuously fuck up, not allowing him to have even a moment without a forceful amount of stimulation. 

“So good,” He moans, entire brain focused on what your hand is doing and unable to open his eyes. “I want it so bad.”

You don’t think he hears you chuckle and you’re thankful he doesn’t. You can imagine he would genuinely be embarrassed to know you’re witnessing his pure blissed-out and aroused-state of mind right now. 

And it’s not shocking that he’s entirely focused on himself at this moment, because he’s the one experiencing this for the first time. Even if you find it hard to believe that another woman has never touched his dick, you’re entirely flattered that it very well may be the case and that he wanted you to be the one to make him feel this good. 

“I’ll give it to you, just relax. I’m not going to stop.” You reassure his needy movements, and the way his body squirms at the slightest of touches. “What feels good?”

God, he’s so frustrated. 

“All of it.” He groans shortly, trying to take in a deep breath and just relax like you asked him too. 

You nod to his closed eyes and slacked mouth, fighting against his hips to be the one to pleasure him rather than himself and only when you blow a gentle breath against the head of his cock do his hips still and he shoots his hands up to your pillows, gripping them as if he’s preparing for something. 

You watch intently at the way he’s actively fighting to move now, waiting impatiently for you to do something now. Licking his lips, chewing on his bottom lip– god, he’s so pretty up there. 

Then, you grant him a new sensation. Only because by this point you’re the one who is about to lose control. 

You stick out your tongue and lick all the way from his balls to the head of his cock, making sure to keep pressure against it so that you can taste all of the arousal he’s spilled up until now. And while you were going to pull back to examine his reaction, this is the part where you release your self control.

The taste alone was enough to have you moaning, vibrating your voice against the vein of his length and then circling your lips around the head. 

Instantly, you suck at the feeling of pre-cum still pouring out of him. This time, there seems to be more. Coating your tongue with an almost sweetened salty taste. 

You feel briefly the way his hips chase the new warmth, clearly wanting to tuck itself into your mouth and quite possibly, down your throat, but you pull back and blow once again against the head. 

His entire body shivers as you glance up at him. 

You can barely comprehend just how into you he looks right now before rolling your own eyes in arousal at the image before immediately giving him everything your mouth has to offer.

Who cares if he comes too fast? Fucking look at him. You’d be stupid not to suck the absolute life out of him! That’s your boyfriend up there, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes sparkling through hooded lids, chest heaving–

And god, you almost wish he wasn’t as big as he is because it’s difficult to keep your eyes open when you take it in. You have to focus on sliding it through your lips, against your tongue, and right up to the back of your throat where the head of his cock bumps.

He can feel the way your fingers grip his legs through it, and by this point he has gone entirely non-verbal at the feeling. 

The only sound he can make comes from deep within his chest, and he can only release those sounds with heaved out and rigid breaths. His heart is pumping faster and faster the deeper you managed to take him, and–

“Ah! W-wait!” He panics, sitting straight up and becoming fucking floored at the way you stay on him. Moving your hands to his stomach and trying to shove him back. “Fuck,” He seethes as he takes in a sharp inhale, legs shaking as he flops back against the pillows. “Fuck, i’m sorry.” He continues to murmur, feeling himself hit the wall of orgasm and practically pulverize it. 

And you, oh, you. You taste it. You feel the twitching and the way his muscles stiffen under your fingers. You can hear him muttering apologies as it spills into your mouth, down your throat, and even out of the corners of your lips. 

You try to take all of it, up until you can’t fucking breathe, and only then do you pull up and replace your mouth with your hand, watching in awe at the way he just……

It doesn’t fucking stop. 

He went from rigid to stammering his words, to now blatantly and full-on moaning through both the pleasure and frustration of losing the warmth of your mouth. 

“God, Chan….” You whisper in a raspy voice, slowing your hands and intentionally pumping it out of him by now. 

“I’m sorry–” He stammers, body still shaking as you pull the rest of it out of him. “I tried to,” He winces with another unintentional moan. “I didn’t think it would feel that good.”

You smile both proudly and fondly, watching him stumble through his words and whatever excuse he tries to come up with. 

“I don’t think you know how hot you look right now.” You finally say, in a more stern voice. “You couldn’t have stopped me if you wanted to.” 

Only now, when he’s absolutely drenched himself in his release does he open his eyes in a drowsy way. He looks at you and that little smile on your lips and decides that, yeah, he can believe you. He trusts you, and he’s entirely obsessed with you. 

“But we still haven’t–”

You cut him off quickly.

“We have all night. All day tomorrow. All week, month, year. I don’t care.” You dead-pan, reaching for his, somehow, still hard length. “Chan.” You add, gripping it and testing the actual hardness of it. “You’re still hard, which is fucking amazing by the way, and you have no idea how wet I am right now.”

Oh, my god. He forgot. 

“You– you’re turned on?” He asks, looking away from you. 

“So fucking turned on.” You confirm for him, now releasing his length to give him a bit of a rest, considering he must not realize he’s still shaking. “Look, feel.” 

You say it as you crawl up and on top of him, seating yourself right up against his abdomen and grabbing his hand. 

He just stares, watching you guide his hand straight to the seat of your shorts. 

“Oh.” He sighs out. 

“Even through my shorts. See? Feel it.” You continue to move his hand against you, trying not to rut your own hips up much like he was doing before. 

Brain malfunction. He doesn’t even have a fucking IQ at this point as his cock immediately reacts in all of it’s sensitive, pathetic glory. 

“Do you want me to, um,” He swallows around a breath he didn’t know he needed. “touch you? Can I try?”

You sigh, relieved that he’s willing and immediately push yourself off of him and take care of all of the busy-work as quickly as possible. ie: taking off your clothes.

Unfortunately, you somehow briefly forgot that the man is still a fucking virgin. You can very nearly see his mouth fall open at your nude body being revealed to him. Even more so, you can see the dribble of saliva that he doesn’t quite catch fast enough, and his cock reacts. 

“You’re so cute, god.” You praise with the same compliment you’ve been giving him all night. 

And when you seat yourself next to him, hugging one of his arms and tucking it between your legs before closing your thighs around it, you smile at him and the way he literally cannot stop staring with his mouth agape. 

“Babe, you’re drooling.” You chuckle, shifting your hips a bit to rub yourself against his knuckles, where you’re still hugging his arm. 

Only then does he slurp up his embarrassment and try to remain calm. His fogged brain comes back to him quickly upon your comments as he wills himself to sit up beside you. 

He gets to….touch you. 

And boy does he. 

Eagerly, messily, and quite frankly, kind of embarrassingly. 

You make it easier for him though, laughing as you flop back and spread your legs for him. He’s quick to simply…explore. He’s not aiming for any singular area of your pussy because to be quite honest, he’s still struggling to stop staring at the entirety of you. 

You watch his eyes, the way they stare at your tits, then your thighs, your pussy being petted by his fingertips, and then– eye contact. 

He seems so sure of himself despite still managing to barely touch the clit. It doesn’t bother you one bit, because his eager fingers still find ways to touch you beautifully. There’s so much intent behind the messy movements. 

Slipping and sliding two fingers between your lips, up your folds, and then stopping just short of your clit before sliding back down and feeling where his cock would go if he manages to make it this far. 

I mean, surely he will, right? He’s losing his virginity as he does this right now, even. Foreplay still counts, right? 

And then, after several minutes of him exploring, learning, and practically teasing you half to death, you reach down to guide him. 

“Right here,” You soothe out in a soft voice, pressing his fingers against your clit and seeing him take note of it. “And here.” You trail his fingers down until they reach your clenched hole, and you very slightly press against his fingers so that the tips just barely enter you. 

He tilts his head at you, concentrating on where you lead him before releasing his hand and essentially leaving him to his own devices now. 

And you know, he did tell you he was a quick learner, because almost immediately he’s experimenting with putting a finger into you, and using his other hand to find a rhythm to rub against your clit. 

The whole time, he checks for your reaction, noting when your breathing hitches and when your body tenses. He continues, trying to only do things that make your body react and soon, you’re already turning to mush beneath him.

His fingers circle and tap your clit at a quick pace, with the other twisted inside of you. When he slides his finger out, and then back in, he rubs your clit harder, and god, yeah. Okay. You see his effort, and it’s such a good fucking effort too.

“Feels good,” You finally moan out for him, allowing yourself to give in to the pure arousal of the entire situation taking place. Thinking hard about what it would feel like to have such a desperate cock inside of you. “Use two fingers?” 

He listens instantly, moaning along with you when he slides the other in with the next thrust. His fingers against your clit trail down shortly after, curiosity getting the best of him when he spreads your lips open to see you stretch around his fingers. 

“It’s so warm–” He comments more to himself than to you, watching the way you pulse around him, watching the way your slick seeps out of you. It’s so hot for him to see it up close like this, and his pace slows at the image before him. “Can you take more than two?”

You lift your head in amazement at how he could ask such a thing. 

“Chan.” You smile at the way he jumps in surprise at your sudden, louder voice. Fingers nearly slipping out of you. “I can take way more than just two fingers.” You glance down between his legs. “Way, way more.”

He glances down to what you’re looking at before letting out an embarrassed sob.

“You’re really going to let me?” He nearly whines in excitement. 

You nod, reaching for him and pulling him to you by his shoulders. You land a kiss against his lips, trying not to shake at the way his fingers angle different inside of you as he moves to chase your lips.

“Mhm,” You soothe against his lips, intentionally scooting your hips down to your best ability to sink his fingers into you more. “Move your fingers– it feels good like this.”

He listens, feeling you throw your arms around his neck and cling to him through it, all while moaning and groaning right up against his lips. You’re not even kissing him, you’re just….acting like this and it’s fucking great.

He thought he would be the only one to be desperate in this situation, yet here you are, clinging to him as he works his fingers in you. 

“When?” He finally asks upon noting the way you start to move your hips against his fingers. 

You peek your eyes open and pull back to look at him. 

“Now? Do you want to do it now?” 

He nods, slipping his fingers out of you and inspecting how wet they’ve become. 

“Can I?” 

You finally fall back, leaning against your elbows and spreading your legs wide in front of him. Lending him a nod, you watch the way he just freezes after the fact. 

All you can do is laugh at this moment with the way he loses any ability to remember how sex works. 

Then again, you wonder if he ever even watched porn, considering how he’s acting and couldn’t manage to find the clit. 

“Do you want me to be on top?” You question, blinking up at him and his blank expression.

He shakes his head at you, still frozen in his spot before his eyes slowly make their way down to the glistening sheen against your pussy. 

“Don’t we like, need a condom or something? I can’t promise I’ll be able to pull out.” He asks, finally glancing away. “I don’t know if I can last as long as you want me to….”

And with that, all you do is lunge forward, grab your boyfriend by the cock, and pull him to you. 

He laughs, you laugh, and then it’s silent when he leans over you, feeling his length lay against your core, already feeling spent but so, so ready to give himself to you. 

“I’m on birth control. You don’t need to pull out.” You smile evilly, wiggling your hips and watching the way he closes his eyes tightly as if to regain his composure of those words. 

“I’m seriously in love with you.” He mutters, pushing his hips forward and letting his length slide through the mess he made of you. 

You smile, feeling that by this point, your face may actually be stuck like this permanently, and lift your head to kiss against his lips once more. 

“You’re ready?” You ask quietly, against his lips. “I can help you adjust to where it needs to be. After that, I want you to do what feels best for you, okay?”

He nods timidly, taking in a deep and nervous breath before feeling your hand guide his length to the opening. 

“Go on, slide in it.” You encourage him. 

And he does. 

Slowly at first, gently, until he feels your wet hot walls envelop the head of his cock in full, clenching, pulling him in. 

His arms shake from either side of your head as he balances himself there, and it doesn’t take long for him to drop his head against your shoulder in deeper breaths than he was taking before.

The sensation is so much, it’s no wonder people like to have sex. It’s so good, you feel so, so good around him. He can’t help it when he slides in deeper, not stopping until he’s releasing a wet moan against your shoulder and holding onto you as if his life depends on it. 

He thought that once he got it all the way in, it would get easier. But it doesn’t. Even as the two of you are unmoving, with your hands in his hair and soothing him through it, you still clench him. Your pussy still stimulates it without either of you doing a damn thing.

You on the other hand, won’t admit to struggling through that one, long and languid thrust inside of you. It felt as if he was splitting you open despite how wet you already were, and still are. The heaviness, the consistent twitching, all of it stretches you out more than you even knew you’d need and god, it feels so good to have him just hold onto you like, to have him adjust to the feeling. 

He’s no longer a virgin, and that’s not even what matters right now. 

What matters is the way he continuously nuzzles his nose against you, snaking his head to your neck and moaning consistently against your ear when he manages to finally move. 

He pulls out only a little bit before his hips stutter at the sensitivity, then he pushes back in. 

In and out, in and out, until–

“Fuck.” He moans, lifting suddenly from your neck, sitting up, staring directly  at where his cock sits inside of you, and he just… lets go.

Knuckles white against the grip of your waist, he powers through the sensitivity, he fucks through it. Fast, with no real rhythm or ability to realize just how deep he’s pushing himself into you, and then….

He’s done for. 

“That’s it,” You encourage him through half moans at the feeling, your swollen clit begging for a little bit of attention too. “Shit, Chan, that’s it.” You continue, losing yourself in his reaction to you. 

He only moves faster, his hips only stutter more, and thank fuck he already came once because he wouldn’t have made it a solid inch into you before coming undone if he hadn’t. Now though? He’s pleasantly surprised to be lasting even this long. 

Until he’s not, of course. 

And there, between your legs, he presses in as far as he can reach and loses his breath. 

Eyes rolling back, eyebrows furrowing, mouth agape, a deep moan rumbles from his chest as his shiver flows through his body at the first release inside of you.

You immediately shoot your hands to your clit, feeling it pump inside of you much like it did in your mouth. Already so much, you feel entirely full, and entirely ready if he can manage to keep coming for as long as he did before. 

You fingers assault the swollen nub so fast, working yourself up much like you would during a quick session of masturbation, not wanting him to miss out on what it feels like to have a girl come on him– 

It hits you faster than you can realize. 

Even when he buckles and falls back to your chest out of breath, you can’t even tell him that it’s happening. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t move just yet. Well, until he feels your pussy clench him tigher than before. In a rhythmic way, almost. 

Only barely can he lift his head to watch you, and that’s when he notes that you’re holding your breath. 

You pussy is pulsing, and then–

“Are you?” He questions, experimenting with the idea of trying to thrust into you as he asks. 

There’s the breath you’d been holding. 

“Yes!” You call out, both to answer his question and to appreciate that little thrust he gave you.

Even if his cock is slowly becoming flaccid, you’re still full, and he can still feel the orgasm wash over you. 

He’s silent through it, wincing at his hyper-sensitive cock and very nearly cursing it out for not having waited just a minute longer to release– then, you’re hugging him. 

Tightly. So tightly, you’re holding onto him and breathing into his hair. He can barely breathe himself with this hold you have on him. Still, he doesn’t fight it, he simply lets you. 

Letting you cling, letting the last jolting pulses of your core push the rest of him out of you. There, he manages to lift from your weakening grasp and throw himself beside you. 

Out of breath, sweating, a total mess, he looks at you like he truly will never be able to love another person the way he does right now. 

And it falls silent for a long while before you roll over, throwing both an arm and leg over him. 

“Man,” You sigh out. “How does it feel?” You ask this time, opening your eyes to playfully look at him.

“Huh? What?” He asks, quirking a brow. 

“You know, now that you’re not a virgin anymore. How does it feel?” 

He thinks hard for like two seconds before taking in a deep breath and smothering himself against the top of your head. 

“Like I’m in love with you, maybe.”

And you know, given that this relationship is barely even considered one in the eyes of most people. You don’t think you care. 

“Because I made you feel good, or because you want to let me make you feel good for like…” You pause, lifting your head to look him in the eye. “the rest of your life?”

He doesn’t even have to think twice. 

“The second reason.” 

“You’re such a simp, Chan, really.” You joke, skewing your head fondly to look at him. “But I think it’s worth a shot.”

~

Chapter two: LOSER. [wonwoo] ― coming soon!

series m.list

[foreverxdaydreaming]

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[onyxstyx]

ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta

pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader

summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.

➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius

A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx

warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!

w/c: 5.9k

latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady

As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.

Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.

As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.

From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.

Fatum.

You had first learnt the word as a little one.

You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.

Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.

She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”

And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.

Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?

And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.

“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”

Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.

As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.

You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.

On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.

You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.

At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.

So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.

Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.

And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.

A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.

But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.

Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?

Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.

Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.

After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.

After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.

Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.

“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”

You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.

The hands fastening the brooch faltered as she gathered a response.

“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.

The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.

But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.

You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.

“Please, Domina.”

She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.

Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.

Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.

Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.

Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.

“It appears your outfit is missing something.”

You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.

In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.

Your mother’s favourite veil.

Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.

What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.

Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.

Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.

He wanted something from you.

Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”

Unphased, he stepped further into the room.  “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.

“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”

You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.

“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.” 

After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.

“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced. 

As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”

You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”

His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.

Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words. 

One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.

“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”

“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”

His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued. 

“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”

With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”

You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”

Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.

“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”

“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”

“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”

Again with the cryptic words.

“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.” 

Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.

“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”

There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.

“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”

“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”

While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.

There may be greater things in store for you yet.

And those greater things began with this banquet.

Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you. 

Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.

As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.

But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second,  you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.

You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.

Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.

Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”

You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like. 

With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed. 

“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”

“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.

More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow. 

“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.

“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”

You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.  

A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.

Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin. 

Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.

But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you. 

And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.

Well-suited to be Empress.

Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.

He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult. 

“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”

“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”

Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”

At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.

There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile. 

“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.” 

Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.

For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.

Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”

You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.

Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.

“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…” 

With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak. 

“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”

His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.” He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”

With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.

“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”

“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.

“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.

The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.

But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.

With swan-like grace you knelt before him and took his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.

“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. “There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”

Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.

“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze. 

“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.

With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.

You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention. 

“And what power would that be?”

Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”

See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.

The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.

Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.

“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.

“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.

“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.

His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”

“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”

Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”

 “Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”

Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.

You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.

Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla. 

At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.

The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.

Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.

The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.

Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.

“Break the spell! Break the spell!”

Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor. 

Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.

Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo. 

From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.

Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room. 

The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned. 

Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable. 

Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face. 

“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”  

Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”

The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours. 

He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup. 

His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.

“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.” 

As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.

Gods help you.

A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x

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