YOOO guess who's back?
I spent the last few weeks working on an exchange fic and it's finally done, so I thought I'd share with you, my Tumblr people! I'd never written a soulmate au before and I loved it! Might revisit the concept in the future!
In a world where soulmarks are revealed when you touch your soulmate’s chest, Tommy never imagined performing CPR would lead to such a revelation.
The question is—can he bring himself to tell Evan Buckley?
Tommy Kinard has always liked the idea of soulmates.
He remembers his Nonna fondly caressing his Nonno's faded name on her wrist every time she missed him. He remembers how neither his mother nor his father had a mark on their wrist, and how unhappy their marriage was.
Growing up, that made Tommy believe that having a soulmate was the surefire way to find love in life. He used to dream about finding his own, of course; of placing his hand over a stranger's chest (a man-shaped stranger once he was old enough to understand that's where his interests lay) and feeling that little burn on his wrist that meant the name of the person who was supposed to bond to him was written in his skin forever.
Like so many childhood musings, this one ended up pushed to the back of Tommy's mind, and life went on. Only sometimes he lets himself wonder if he'll ever meet his soulmate.
He never imagined it would happen like that, though.
It's Saturday and Tommy is checking out the Food Fest in Santa Monica. He vaguely thinks that he should get his shopping done before the storm that's brewing falls down; the weather is heavy and a little suffocating.
If he had to fly, Tommy would be more worried, but as it is, he's just wondering if it might be a good idea to take a nap in the afternoon while the rain hits his window. It's the start of his 72-hours off, and he's made plans to go to the trivia bar that night. There's absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about his day.
Until a sharp cry pierces through the air.
"Help! Somebody help, please! He's not breathing!"
Tommy's first responder instincts kick in faster than his brain, and before he knows it, he's making his way through the crowd.
"I'm a firefighter, let me through!", he yells, and it works as well as the sirens in their trucks. People part so Tommy can pass, and he finally reaches the scene.
There's an unconscious man on the floor, a bag of spices fallen near him. He's wearing workout clothes, and his sweaty face is pale, except for a bright red spot over his eyebrow. Another man, presumably the owner of the stall judging by his apron, is kneeling by his side, eyes widened.
"I… I don't know what happened! He was talking to me and suddenly he said he wasn't feeling well, and keeled over. I… I can't feel his heartbeat!"
Tommy's blood freezes in his veins as he frantically tries to recall all of his EMT knowledge. There's a mixed flood of Howie, Eli and Hen's voices talking in his brain, and he knows what he has to do first: check for vitals. Well, no, actually, there's something else before.
"Call 911", he orders to no one in particular, and a woman in the crowd is already reaching for her phone.
Then, he places two fingers on the stranger's pulse point, but feels nothing. His chest is agonizingly still, and Tommy knows time is of the essence here. He rolls up his sleeves and places himself above the unconscious man, putting one of his hands on top of the other with his fingers intertwined.
Even before he starts CPR, the tune to Another One Bites the Dust comes to his mind, a tip from Howie that he never forgot. He times his compressions to the beat of the song in his mind until he reaches 30, feeling a sharp sting on one of his wrists that tells him how out of practice he is with first aid procedures like this, but Tommy doesn't have time to dwell on it. He gives two rescue breaths to the man's mouth and seeks his pulse again. His fingers are met only with stillness.
Tommy doesn't let that deter him. He goes for two more cycles, back to back, barely aware of the sound of ambulance sirens coming closer. By the end of the third try, there's a faint heartbeat against his hand. It's weak, but enough to make Tommy sigh in relief and raise a thumbs up for the lingering crowd. By this point, there's a bunch of rescuers rushing in their direction, and Tommy feels even more relieved when he sees the '122' on their uniform.
"Damn, Tommy, can't you stay out of trouble even on your day off?", Sal greets him, assessing the scene as the captain he is now.
"Trouble finds me, it's not my fault", Tommy chuckles, and Sal squeezes his shoulder before his eyes land on the man whose life Tommy just saved.
Sal frowns as he takes in his face before it's covered by an oxygen mask. The paramedics are already doing their job with quick efficiency, and Tommy knows they're much better at this than he is, but for a second he feels an irrational wish to keep an eye on them and make sure the man is okay. This is ridiculous, considering he's a complete stranger, so Tommy does his best to swallow that instinct.
"Hey, isn't that Buckley from the 118? Wasn't he struck by lightning a couple months ago?", Sal asks, and Tommy shrugs.
He remembers the story, of course; everyone knows Buckley from the 118 is infamous for his sheer bad luck. But Tommy's never met the man before, so he couldn't say if Sal's suspicions are correct.
"I don't know, didn't have time to check ID or anything", he informs Sal as the paramedics put the man on the gurney.
The small monitor tells Tommy his pulse is stable now, but he still hasn't woken up. There's a worry in his gut that he can't quite shake out.
"Well, we'll check on the ambulance. If he is Buckley, I wanna be out of there before Nash shows up; I hear the kid's his new protegé"
Tommy suppresses the urge to roll his eyes when he's reminded of Sal's one-sided years long grudge against Bobby Nash. He's about to offer a snippy remark, but the thought of Buckley (or whoever he is) waking up on the hospital by himself stops him. He says something else instead.
"Hey, Sal!", he calls before the ambulance takes off. "Can I ride with you?"
[Continue reading on AO3]
A matter of indulgence | Gladiator II | E | Geta x Reader x Caracalla | 5.6k
Main Tumblr | AO3: Otaku_girl | Aaron Taylor Johnson character masterlist
Summary: Working as a bathing attendant for the Emperors, you know a little of what to expect from their appetites. You just didn’t quite expect to draw the eye of not one, but two, Emperors.
Author's notes: Written for @ohveda as part of the Geta x Reader 2026 exchange @jqficexchange 💚 I hope you enjoy!
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“Chin up, eyes down. Listen for verbal cues and implied commands – but do not be so bold as to act without instruction.” Words flow from between Melitta’s lips faster than wine flows at the Emperor’s banquets. She smiles at you, a small, tight thing, but a genuine one. Your lips twitch in response, a weak curl at the corners belaying your gratitude. Not every new palace slave is so lucky as to have a more experienced one take them under their wing.
Hands accompany each clipped, guiding word of advice, work-worn fingers straightening your tunica – shorter than you are used to, the fabric softer, more gauzy than even the ones which you wear to attend visiting dignitaries and senators alike – and ensuring your belt is secured tightly in place. Your feet are already bare, the tiles beneath them warm and slick; your hair is neatly braided to keep it out of the way and in place.
You have been an attendant at the palace bath house for a season, the days and weeks somewhat blurring into one.
You have seen attendants chosen before; women and men chosen from amongst the regular attendants to serve while the Emperors themselves come to relax and bathe. Everyone knows of how Emperor Caracalla has his favourites, though his penchant for working through the new acquisitions until he finds a shiny enough toy worthy of keeping is just as well known. Emperor Geta, if rumours are to be believed, has more disconcerting tastes.
Fingers grip your chin, brown eyes waiting patiently until you meet her gaze. “It is no offense if they select no one. It will not be seen as a slight on your abilities, nor will it affect your standing. You will not be sent away unless one of the Emperors themselves commands it. We are there to serve in whatever capacity is asked of us. Whether that is to help remove clothing, to apply oil, to fetch drinks, or to stand and wait for their command, matters little. Do you understand?”
You try to nod, momentarily forgetting her grip on you. Embarrassment flushes beneath your skin before you remember to use your words. “We serve at the pleasure of the Emperors.”
“Good. Remember that, and you shall be fine.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“Come now, brother. There is no need for modesty.”
“Wishing to be clean is hardly modesty. Not all of us enjoy the sensations of sweat drying on our skin.”
Laughter, bright and light and with just a hint of something unfamiliar lying beneath rings out throughout the room, echoing across marble floors and filling the near-empty space. You do not dare look up from your position to one side, ready and waiting for Melitta’s signal to bring forward fresh towels or alternative oils for the Emperors.
Were it not for your experience in the bathhouse, your back would already be aching from the rigid position you have been holding. You weren’t amongst the attendants selected to help the Emperor’s remove their clothes and to begin preparations. A pretty young man had been selected for Emperor Caracalla, all sleek muscles and a slim waist. From what you could see at your position towards the end of the queue of waiting slaves and servants, Emperor Geta had been attended by one of his delicata, though she did not appear to have accompanied him through the subsequent rooms.
Melitta had not allowed you – nor any of the other waiting attendants – to linger as they moved through their exercises, instead ushering you to slip into the heated, steam-filled chamber to await their arrival. Sweat trickles down the back of your neck, the gauzy fabric of your tunica sticking to slick skin already. This has always been your least favourite of the rooms. The heated tiles beneath your feet feel slick, urging you to move with more caution that someone in your position can truly afford. Steam curls from the nearby pools, water hot enough to turn sunkissed skin ruddy.
You are one of half a dozen waiting on the Emperor’s command. The elder of the two – red hair dishevelled, signature white-painted skin bare for once for all the world to see – lounges against the side of the pool, arms spread wide, golden tooth glinting in the bright midafternoon light. A wide, easy smile splits his lips as he cajoles his younger twin, a look of irritation flashing across the more stern Emperor’s face. Emperor Geta is slower to sink beneath the heated surface, one hand neatly shielding the space between his legs from clear view until he has settled into the pool fully.
There is a tension amongst the slaves, an unspoken readiness that sits between you, as you all await the Emperor’s commands. Neither seems to be paying any of you any heed. It is enough to take the edge off of the tension in your shoulders, though judging from the sharp look that Melitta slides your way, it should not.
The whims of the Emperors are unpredictable and swift. They should not be questioned. I should not allow myself to be lax in my attentions, you silently chide yourself. Shoulders push back, the fabric of your tunica whispering around you as you readjust your stance. To your side, Melitta lets out a barely audible hum of approval.
“You want her, do you not? You can be honest, brother. I would not hide such a thing from you.” Emperor Caracalla’s voice rings out throughout the room, filling the empty space with his presence. Somewhere along the way, both delicatas and the male attendant have been lost or discarded, though there is no telling which.
“It would be a blessing if you would hesitate to share your more carnal thoughts at least some of the time, brother,” Emperor Geta says dryly.
You risk a look towards the two, the kind of barely-there eye-flick that is allowed of slaves in the serving of their masters. His skin is flush from the heat of the pool, closer to red than pink creeping up the pale column of his neck to stain Geta’s cheeks. If you did not know the procedures yourself, you would think Emperor Caracalla to still be wearing his powders, his cheeks bright with colour usually used to contrast with the white he so clearly prefers to hide any little blemishes and imperfections that none dare speak of.
Which delicatas could they be talking about? You wonder. You have only seen them at a distance of course, each prettier than the last. Or perhaps they speak of some new senator’s daughter or visiting noblewoman. Crass words need not be censored when you are an Augustus.
“Do not be shy. Who would dare refuse?” Emperor Caracalla says, and your world stands still. Geta’s dark brown, fathomless eyes meet yours across the room, and you forget how to breathe.
“It is only a matter of a simple command.” Caracalla’s words break the spell between you, your eyes snapping down as you take a deep, shuddering, gulping breath as best you can without giving yourself away. You can still feel his eyes on your skin. You wait, listening for the inevitable command. For the call for punishment for daring to look the Emperor in the eye without permission. If you are lucky enough to have not drawn his ire, perhaps you will only be sent away.
The snapping of fingers fills the air. You wonder who is being summoned for half a beat before remembering that you too should be looking, should be checking to see if Emperor Caracalla has need for you. Blue eyes stare back, fever-bright, a sharp slant to his lips, his smile just on the edge of dangerous.
“Come here,” he commands, voice barely above a whisper.
You move as soon as the words leave his lips, knowing better than to keep an Emperor waiting.”
“Leave us.”
Your footsteps falter.
Even Caracalla’s surety flickers and falters as Geta’s command – louder, sharper, leaving no room for disagreement – rings out over his. You look between the two, uncertainty and fear freezing you in place. You know better than to refuse an Emperor, but cannot see any way to obey one without displeasing the other.
“Geta–” Caracalla begins. Before he can get any further, Geta is standing, water sluicing off of him as he hauls himself from the hot pool. He brushes past you without so much as a glance in your direction, heat wafting from him, the air around him damp and thick. He doesn’t pause at the row of waiting attendants, instead moving to the next room, where he will no doubt be scrubbed and scraped and oiled down.
The sound of a second body leaving the water soon follows, a long sigh falling from between Caracalla’s lips. You turn back just in time to get a clear view of a pert behind, pale skin pockmarked and lined with heavy silver scars unbefitting an Emperor. Eyes fall deferentially, only for a little hitch in your breath to ring out as you catch sight of the impressive endowment between Caracalla’s legs. No man has any place having quite such a large appendage. You swallow, mouth suddenly dry.
A hand grips your chin, tilting your head back and up, forcing you to meet Emperor Caracalla’s eyes. That roughish, boyish smile of his looks far sharper up close. Were it anyone else, you would say it looks almost… predatory. You do not look away as eyes roave over your face, taking in every inch of you until, at last, he purrs, “Oh, I like this one. How sweet. You shall do. Come; you will attend us in the next pool.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Time slips past you in a blur. Emperor Geta speaks to no one as sweetly scented oils are rubbed into his bare skin, another slave already at his side with a strigil ready to scrape him clean. Despite Emperor Caracalla’s command, you find yourself brushed to one side as a pair of young men move to assist him, one kneeling, the other drawn towards his chest.
You are thankful for Melitta’s guidance as you instead find yourself sent to help move fresh towels between rooms, and to set up refreshments in the tepidarium. After the heat of the caldarium, you can’t help the shiver that passes over you, sweat rapidly cooling as your heated skin feels almost chilled in the low warmth of the room.
Waiting, it is with a hint of trepidation that you realise none of the other slaves have taken up their positions in the next room.
Footsteps approach. The sound of their bickering proceeds them, chasing away any thoughts that Melitta may be on her way to join you, or one of the other nameless faces you have yet to grow close enough to share pleasantries with.
“Must you turn everything into a spectacle? Even here?”
“Why not?” Caracalla’s smile is slow. “They will look regardless. Better they speak of what I choose to show them than what their idle minds might conjure.”
Caracalla sees you as soon as he enters the room, his gaze flicking over you as if you are little more than part of the backdrop. He is completely bare, not so much as a towel slung around his hips, his skin tinged pink, perfumed and sweet-smelling. Emperor Geta follows half a step behind. Brow furrowed, modesty intact. A small towel is wrapped around his waist, covering him to mid-thigh. Unlike his brother, he seems not to take note of his surroundings, instead intent on making his way into the water with as much haste as possible. It is almost sweet to watch how carefully he keeps himself covered, as if embarrassed to be seen completely bare. Surely that cannot be the case? Not for someone of his standing?
“Wishing to be the centre of attention has nothing to do with it, I am sure, brother,” Geta says dryly as he settles in place, the water up to his shoulders. Tension ebbs from him as the warmth sinks into his skin, brown eyes at last flicking around, taking in the lack of slaves on hand to fetch wine and towels. Geta’s gaze rests on you, his expression shuttering. He stands abruptly, every hint of relaxation dropping from him in a matter of moments.
“By all means, go.” Caracalla’s gaze flicks briefly to you, then back. “If you leave now, I will take it as your answer. You might learn to relax, brother… or I shall see for myself whether she is worthy of imperial attention.”
Caracalla holds a hand out towards you, the unspoken command clear. You get no more than a single step forward before Geta speaks.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Even as the hissed words leave Geta’s lips, you can see the doubt flickering there, the resignation. He knows his brother better than anyone else. Knows that when it comes to such things, Caracalla does not speak in jest. This time as Geta speaks, his words hold an air of gravitas that cannot be ignored. Gone is the boyish bickering between brothers as Emperor Geta’s gaze turns instead to you. “Come here.”
Somehow, Emperor Caracalla is quicker than you are. He slips into the water beside Geta before you are even halfway towards the pool, your stack of towels forgotten, nerves thrumming beneath your skin. Irritation flashes across Geta’s face, though he makes no move to push the other man out of the way as Caracalla settles beside him, lounging back against the side of the pool as if it is his. You suppose that it is.
“I wondered how long it would take. Tell me – if you were compelled to choose, which of us would you favour?” His smile is easy, almost boyish, though the danger in it is unmistakable.
“Augustus, I-I would never dare to even think of such a thing,” you manage to say, words tripping over themselves in your haste. Despite your words, you cannot help the way that your eyes dart towards Emperor Geta.
Caracalla laughs, clearly bemused with your response, though it is the way that Emperor Geta seems to almost relax, tension easing from his shoulders, that captures your attention. It is no more than a momentary wavering of your focus as you finally reach the edge of the pool, but it is enough for Caracalla to seize the moment. A hand wraps around your ankle, tugging firmly.
There is no time for you to react.
Slick tiles go out from beneath you, a shriek filling the air as you land in the water with a splash. Laughter fills the air – all Caracallas – as hands wrap around your waist, helping to steady you, to guide you back towards the surface even as panic takes hold and leaves your lungs screaming.
You have never had the opportunity to learn how to swim.
You cling to your saviour with trembling arms, your tunica plastered against you, hair dripping. Emperor Geta holds you carefully, allowing you to cling to him even as you try to convince yourself that this is completely unacceptable behaviour, that you should not dare to touch the Emperor – no matter how accidental the circumstances might be.
“I apologise, Augustus. I should not–” Lips clamp shut as Emperor Geta waves a hand dismissively. It could be a trick of the light, but he almost looks concerned, you think, as he helps you regain your footing, leading you carefully to the edge of the pool. Concern soon melts away to irritation as he turns his attention to Caracalla.
“Was that truly necessary?” he asks, voice barely more than a hiss.
Caracalla shrugs, his easy smile unwavering as he takes a step forward, not a trace of guilt or remorse to be found on him. “No more so than this.”
Fingers wrap around the back of your neck, turning your head towards him as Caracalla leans in to capture your lips. Eyes widen, lips parting instinctively, giving the other man enough room to press forward. The sharp edge of his golden tooth catches on your lower lip, a single bead of blood welling there. He quickly chases it away with his tongue, eyes dark, his other hand moving through the water to cup your hip, to tug you closer without hesitation or question.
“Absolutely not!”
Hands wrench you away from Caracalla as Geta neatly inserts himself between the two of you, his back turned towards Caracalla, hands falling to your hips. In a move that you are not sure which of you is surprised the most, Geta lifts you from the water to sit on the edge of the.
“Why must you always be like this?” Geta snaps, voice tight. Controlled. “Can I have nothing–”
“Do not speak to me of being forced to share, brother,” Caracalla cuts in smoothly. “I can hardly be faulted for taking action where you would do nothing but watch and wait impotently. Or perhaps it is that you prefer to watch?"
There is a pause. Smooth, and quiet, and deadly. Caracalla’s smile widens, the sharp glint of his golden tooth drawing your eye.
“If so, I will be certain to make the spectacle worthy of your attention, if you would just–”
“I saw her first,” Geta says, voice low. There is no room for disagreement in his tone. “She is mine.”
Caracalla laughs. Shaking his head, he says, “Fine. You may have first taste. But do make it a worthy one, or I shall be forced to relieve you of the effort.”
Your head is spinning as words fly back and forth between the two. Geta’s hands never leave your waist, despite his attention solely being focused on his brother. When at last their words fall to silence, the weight of their gazes is enough to make you shiver.
Geta’s hands tighten on your waist; one trails down from the sodden fabric of your tunica to brush against the soft expanse of your thigh. Without thought, you shift in place, thighs parting, granting Emperor Geta better access. He hesitates, almost as if he did not expect such willingness from you. A bright burst of laughter leaves Caracalla.
“See? She is eager and willing. Do not keep her waiting, for she may bestow her favour on another if you are too slow.” Despite the teasing lilt to his words, Geta stills. His hands tighten, his gaze narrowing before it turns back to you.
He says nothing. He does not need to. A faint smile curves at your lips. You dip your head, barely, but noticeable. It is enough.
He may be the Emperor, there may be witnesses, but you are no blushing maiden. You would not have made it as far as you have, having lasted nearly a year working here, without learning how to go unnoticed when the need calls for it, and how to attract attention when it is wanted.
“Shall I give a demonstration, brother? If it has been so long, I would hate for you to forget the order of things,” Caracalla’s teasing drawl breaks the moment between the two of you.
Geta doesn’t waste any words, instead sending a splash of water towards Caracalla that leaves his brother spluttering with glee. Dark brown eyes don’t leave you as Geta’s hands tug your thighs forward towards the ends of the pool. You shift without hesitation, anticipating how this will go. If you are lucky, he will bend you over the edge with no heed for how uncomfortable the marble will dig into your stomach as he takes his fill. If he is less considerate, he might press you beneath the water to please him with your hands and mouth. You tense, ready to slip back into the water, when Geta’s hands press down, keeping you sitting in place. Eyes flick to meet his, uncertainty clear in your gaze.
The pink of his tongue glistens against his lips as it darts out, wetting the thin lines. He holds your gaze as hands shift to push the fabric of your tunica up and out of the way, baring you completely for both brothers to see. Heat rushes beneath your skin, embarrassment leaving your stomach fluttering, words nowhere to be found. A thumb rubs soothing circles against your thigh, as if Geta can sense your trepidation.
“If you need reminding–” Caracalla begins again.
Geta does not allow him to finish. “You shall be quiet or leave, brother.”
Geta leans in, Caracalla all but forgotten. He holds your gaze as he presses forward, lips glancing across your knee – tough feather light, barely there. It’s still enough to make you shiver. Brown eyes take on a warm edge as he repeats the motion and your shivering stops. Lips trail up, and up, and up, kissing and biting across the sensitive expanse.
“Augustus, there is no need–” you begin to say only to fall silent. Lips part in a silent gasp as a finger swipes across you, slow and firm and sure, starting at your hole and travelling the length of your seam until he glances against your clit.
“Do not presume to instruct your Emperor. I decide what is required.” Geta’s words are low, and smooth, leaving no room for disagreement. You find yourself nodding along all the same, willing to agree to anything if it means that he will not stop.
“Yes, Augustus.”
His hand twists, thumb rubbing a slow, teasing circle around your clit – not quite touching, but close enough for the anticipation to leave your thighs trembling, wide-eyed gaze locked on him. Geta’s hand cups your sex for a moment, holding it, his touch a casual kind of possession, not a hint of question or uncertainty that this is his – that you are his – to do with as he pleases.
Hands press your thighs open wide. The ghost of a smile twitches over his lips at the desperate little noise of protest that escapes you as he leaves your clit unsatisfied. He settles himself more comfortably between your thighs, shifting so that your legs can move over his shoulders, his face pressing closer. Your mind stutters to a halt. He cannot possibly mean to–
Lips press against your seam with a clumsy confidence, as if he is more used to witnessing such things or receiving than he is to giving. The first broad stroke of his tongue – warm, and wet against your heated skin – draws a shuddering sigh from you, and it is as if his confidence increases all at once.
Thumbs hook over your outer lips, keeping you open as he leans in, tongue tracing a line across you; it is as if he is trying to chase every last drop of slick from your skin. A hot puff of breath skitters across your skin. Without thought, you reach for him, fingers tangling in his hair, drawing him closer to where you wish to feel him the most.
Eyes half-lided, pleasure beginning to pool low and hot in your core, it is not until you meet sharp blue eyes across the expanse of the pool that you realise your mistake. Caracalla watches the two of you, hand lazily fisting his length, movements slow and steady. His eyes cut down, flicking to where you dare to grip onto Geta’s hair. You release the Emperor without a sound, swallowing down the noise that threatens to break free as Geta’s lips wrap around your clit, two fingers bumping against your slick entrance.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself, brother.” His smile lingers a beat too long. “Watching like this… one might almost think you prefer to give rather than take.” A soft huff of laughter follows. “Though we both know better.”
You bite back a whine as Geta pulls back. Lips glisten, his fingers steadily working inside, twisting, seeking out that one spot guaranteed to make you see stars.
“Not all of us mistake indulgence for need. There is no need to be selfish in such things,” Geta says, voice even, unwavering. His fingers twist, satisfaction blossoming as you shudder, hips arching, a wordless cry echoing throughout the chamber as he finds just the right spot to leave toes curling.
“Selfish?”
Caracalla’s words mean little to either of you as Geta holds your gaze, his fingers moving with a steady efficiency, as if there is nothing that he wants more than to see you tip over the edge. Fingers twitch, the urge to reach for him, to hold him close, to beg, is almost overwhelming. It is this, more than anything, that you think masks the sound of water splashing, of Caracalla moving closer and closer still.
“Selfish? I shall abide by a great many things, brother, but I will not be called a selfish lover. My reputation could never recover. I intend to prove otherwise.”
“Your reputation–”
Geta’s words cut off with a gasp as Caracalla blankets his back, one hand neatly wrapping around the delicate column of his throat, the other reaching around his waist to encircle his length. A thigh presses between Geta’s, forcing his legs apart, as Caracalla begins to work his length at a steady, unforgiving pace.
Caracalla holds your gaze over Geta’s shoulder. “Perhaps it is your reputation that will suffer. Did I say that you should stop? Or do you intend to leave her unsatisfied?”
Geta snarls, the sound breathier, needier than he intends. Hips flex as he tries to fuck into Caracalla’s grip with little success, the other man merely laughing as he struggles. The hand on his throat tightens briefly, golden rings glinting in the light.
“Now, be a good boy and finish what you started.”
A little shove sends Geta forward, his hands curling around your thighs as he catches himself before he can fall fully. Behind him, Caracalla keeps hold of Geta’s length with one hand, the other tightening around his hip. Fingers move back between your legs with a level of caution, of uncertainty, that doesn’t last for long. You watch as Caracalla’s hand trails across Geta’s skin, moving from him to lower back in a soothing trail. His touch looks gentle yet possessive, a familiarity about it that reminds you more of lovers than anything else.
“Or must I do everything?”
One hand remains working Geta’s length even as Carcalla’s other rises to fist in the back of his hair, forcing Geta’s head back between your thighs, pressing him against where you need to feel him the most. You gasp at the first bump of his nose against your clit, his fingers sliding in deeper, pressing against your sensitive spot with an almost bruising pressure. Thighs tremble as he curses against your skin, the low rumble inching you closer towards the edge. Caracalla shows no mercy, hand guiding him, pressing until Geta’s lips wrap around your clit, his fingers curling, your voice rising above everything as pleasure builds.
“You always did have the better tongue for pretty words, brother. A pity it’s wasted where it might actually be appreciated.” Gold glints in the warm glow of sunlight bathing the room as Caracalla’s hand strips Geta’s length with a confidence that speaks of experience. Geta’s fingers twitch within you, his mouth going slack, as Caracalla drags him to the precipice right alongside you.
“Calla–” It’s a broken cry, soon cut off as a different kind of warm wetness splashes against your skin, dribbling down into the water, coating Caracalla’s hand. The elder of the two doesn’t pause in his ministrations until Geta is whining, pleasure shifting closer to pained whimpers of overstimulation by the time that he finally allows his hand to still.
Disappointment stirs as Geta’s cheek presses against your thigh, his fingers unmoving inside of you. Now that he has found his release, there is little use of you. Unless– you watch as Caracalla’s hand curls possessively in Geta’s hair, his other hand working furiously across his length, stripping it with an efficiency that speaks of how close Caracalla is. Walls flutter, clenching around Geta’s intruding fingers as you watch Caracalla cover Geta’s back with a possessive snarl, his length pulsing as ropes of spend land across the other man’s back, his hip, his buttocks, dripping into the water.
It will be uncomfortable to wait to see to yourself later, but you are certain that is what you will have to do. Now that they have both found their completion, there is no more need for you. Melitta’s advice resurfaces in your mind. Hands fall to the edge of the pool, thoughts of pulling yourself up and out already at the forefront of your mind. In front of you, hazy blue eyes begin to focus.
Caracalla glances down, displeasure flashing across his face as he takes in Geta’s lax form. Fingers curl, yanking on dishevelled locks. Instead of pulling Geta back and away, he presses his prone form forward.
“If you are going to begin something, brother, have the decency to see it through. Do not start what you lack the nerve to complete.” Caracalla leans in, body blanketing Geta’s, uncaring for the mess smeared between them. “Go on. Finish it. Or shall I?”
“Not everything requires such a heavy hand,” Geta says, and Caracalla laughs, shaking his head.
“Not everything. But clearly your skills are lacking in such matters… unless you intend to leave her unsatisfied?”
At last, Geta’s eyes turn to you, and he takes in the state of you: dishevelled hair, the tightness around your eyes and lips, the way that your hands clench and tremble at the edge of the pool. Fingers flex and you clench around him, swallowing down the pleas that threaten to break free. You cannot remember the last time that you wanted to find completion quite so desperately.
“Please?” The word is wrenched from you, a near broken sound. Geta takes pity on you. Lips wrap around your clit, a third finger pressing against your entrance, spreading you wide, filling you past comfort until you feel that delicious, burning stretch that you need so much.
It doesn’t take much for Geta to push you over the edge, pleasure washing over you in inescapable, pulsing waves. Your vision goes black, body trembling, the world narrowing down to nothing by the feeling of Geta’s tongue and lips and fingers.
Low murmuring barely registers as you struggle to come back to awareness, your body limp, limbs weak, the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your body in waves. Eyes blink open slowly, the world around you coming into hazy focus. It is blue, not brown, that meets your gaze.
The look that Emperor Caracalla sends you is too sharp to truly be called a smile. He moves towards you through the water, lifting himself out of the pool with ease, a hand resting heavily on your shoulder. He bends, lips brushing the shell of your ear, water dripping from him and onto you as he speaks.
“It would seem that you have attracted my brother’s attention. For now,” Caracalla says softly. “But do not confuse his attention with indulgence or leniency. Geta is mine. He always has been. I do not object to sharing…”
His hand tightens on your shoulder and you wince despite yourself. He feels it. Of course he does.
His smile widens. “But I do expect people to remember who they are borrowing from. And to show proper thanks in return.”
His thumb presses in, hand tightening – not enough to bruise; not yet. But enough to remind you of your place, and of his.
“Do you know what happens when someone tries to keep what is mine?”
You shake your head, gaze fixed somewhere just below his chin, not daring to say a word.
A soft huff of amusement escapes him, warm against your skin and entirely without kindness. His grip eases. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Not yet. I would suggest that we keep things that way, yes?”
Silence stretches between you, until at last, the pressure is too much.
“Yes, Augustus. Of course. I would never presume–”
“See that you don’t.”
Footsteps approach. You both turn in tandem to find Geta has returned, a towel neatly wrapped around his waist, two more slaves in tow. Both move towards Caracalla without a word, soft towels ready. Caracalla welcomes them with open arms and a pleased twist to his lips. Behind Geta, you can see Melitta hovering, unspoken questions in her eyes.
“It has been suffocatingly hot as of late, hasn’t it, brother?” Caracalla says, all lazy smiles and bright words once more. There isn't a trace of that dangerous edge of his to be found. “It would be a shame to cut our time here short. Perhaps we might indulge in another soak this evening.”
His smile comes easily. Too easily. Bright and effortless, you would not believe this the same man who wrapped his hand around Emperor Geta’s throat such a short time ago. Nor the same man to leave your own skin sensitive to the touch.
Geta’s gaze drifts from Caracalla to you, then back again. His lips press thin, searching for a reason to refuse and finding none. A beat passes. Then another. At last, Geta inclines his head.
Caracalla’s grin sharpens, something glinting beneath the surface “Excellent. Then it is a settled. We shall make an evening of it.”
His eyes find yours, and you find yourself locked in place, unable to move beneath the weight of their combined gazes.
“We shall continue this later,” Caracalla says, holding your gaze. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Geta incline his head in agreement.
“We shall look forward to it.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Author's notes: Liked what you read? Consider leaving a kudos or comment on AO3.
This is my contribution to a Discord Server exchange. My recipient is @lale-txt - an honour, truly.
Henlo Lale, I am your [no longer secret] secret summer...santa? Fairy? Either way, I set out to write you a little thing and then it became a slightly bigger than little thing. I think it may actually be my longest Tumblr fic to date. I hope you enjoy it, I had quite a lot of fun writing it -it took me out of a writing slump even. You gave me SO MANY delicious prompts to work with, but I eventually settled for my very first instinct, fake dating / married with Tengen. Sending you loads of love!
Tengen Uzui x Fem!Reader - SFW - 5.0k words
cw/notes: fake dating / fake marriage | mention of injuries | In series | a hint of angst but all comfort after | Readers body does not get described, but female pronouns are used, reader is referred to as wife, girlfriend, woman, etc. |
Tengen has his wives, they are mentioned, but they are not actively in the story | Tengen is still an active Hashira |
“So let me get this straight…”
You were rubbing the bridge of your nose, trying to massage away the headache that was brewing. There was no way you’d be successful with the way this situation was going.
“You have not one, not two…but three wives. Yet you are asking me to pretend to be another one of your wives because…?”
“Because they are all out on their own missions and for this super-secret undercover one I have to have a partner otherwise they will not let me in.”
Tengen was smiling, eyes full of hope and sparkles, and you had to resist the urge to punch his beautiful face just to wipe the smirk off of it. He was so casual about it too, as if it was only logical, and you were the one confused about the situation.
You bit your lip, physically trying to bite back snarky remarks. An actual filter for your words, if you will, while your brain was too preoccupied trying to make sense of the situation. You sighed, taking another deep breath before clapping your hands together in front of your face, resting them against your lips and then pointing them at him, the only way to express your mixed annoyance and frustration.
“Tengen, first of all, the mission is not super-secret, we literally all just heard the details. Secondly, there are a multitude of ways for you to carry out the mission or infiltrate that do not entail you going undercover as a couple at the retreat!”
He held his hands up in defense, shaking his head at your arguments.
“That wouldn’t really be a flashy way of handling the situation. You know I need to do my work in my own way.”
You shook your head in response, but still indulged him a little by asking what was in it for you. A smile appeared on his lips, and you realized that you had just shown him your cards. You had shown a little interest in the plan, and that was all he needed to give you the final push towards agreeing with him.
“Well, you would be able to go on a deluxe retreat with me of all people”, he started his reasoning. You just rolled your eyes in response.
“It’s fully paid, and I will take care of you all weekend. Since you will be posing as one of my wives -or a girlfriend if you feel more comfortable just doing that, you will be treated the way I always treat my wives, which is a treat in and of itself.”
You raised an eyebrow, keeping up your skeptic facade, but you had to admit that it didn’t sound all that bad. Tengen may be a little peculiar, and definitely could stand to keep his mouth shut on more occasions, but you did know he was a wonderful partner, and going on a date -or this retreat- with him wouldn’t be a bad experience per se. Except for the obvious part: the demons who were the reason that this mission existed in the first place. It was as if he had read your mind though, speaking up to address your one concern:
“It’s still my mission, no worries about fighting and stuff. I will protect you!”
You rolled your eyes again, you weren’t a meek damsel in distress, you fought demons just the same. You probably wouldn’t even have minded helping out with the actual mission part. But you also knew just how stubborn Tengen could get, and if it was a mission that he’d easily do by himself, he wouldn’t let you unnecessarily endanger yourself just to help.
You were quiet for a little bit, pretending to mull it over. Your decision was already made, but you didn’t want to seem too eager. It became increasingly hard to say no to the sparkles in his eyes and his wide toothy grin.
“Sure. I’ll be your wife for the weekend. But you better spoil me.”
“Of course. I have never disappointed a woman!”
He laughed loudly, and you couldn’t help but feel a little jolt of electricity coursing through your body. Were you really that excited?
Tengen hadn’t lied about the resort being luxurious. Sure, it was in the middle of nowhere, and sure, there were barely any people around, and sure, you knew that the forests surrounding you were crawling with demons the second the sun went under… but it was beautiful, and it was clear the clientele was a of a way higher standing than the people you usually mingled with. You felt a little out of place even, and you were surprised to see just how relaxed Tengen was, how well he blended in. It made more and more sense that he had been selected for this mission.
You had been briefed on the details of the mission, but Tengens expectations of you were clear: just enjoy the weekend and be his loyal and loving wife for two days. You weren’t expected to fight or do any recon, but he would keep you updated on all the information he found, and you would just keep an eye out, the way you always do, even off-duty.
Other than that, some boundaries were established: you were to fake being husband and wife, but there was no reason for unnecessary PDA. Everything was cleared with his wives as well, and you had to admit you really appreciated his consideration and consent. The way he went over all kinds of scenarios beforehand to gauge just what you would be okay with had made you feel some type of way. It had also made you realize that you were okay with a lot of things, way more than you would expect yourself to agree to. A small voice in the back of your head kept saying: ‘If it is him, I suppose it would be okay’, which made you wonder just why you were so willing to receive affection from him, faked or otherwise.
Checking in with him having wrapped an arm around your waist made you feel more safe than you thought it would. You were strong and could fend for yourself, but that always had made past partners feel like they had to treat you like someone who was fiercely independent, someone who didn’t need as much pampering as you sometimes craved. It was nice to not even have to ask for that, feel safe and protected without feeling like he was looking down on you. He acknowledged your strength, it was just not your time right now to be strong. It was time to relax, and let him take care of you, and most of that was conveyed through simple gestures as you finished check-in and got settled in your room.
He carried your bags, held your hand or had an arm wrapped around your shoulder and opened doors for you. The way he so effortlessly fell into the role of your husband made it easier for you to take on your role as wife as well. You leaned into his touches, and you didn’t even have to fake the smile that was on your lips most of the day. You had to remind yourself to sometimes still roll his eyes and deliver a playful slap to his bicep, especially when it was just the two of you and there was no reason to keep up the act.
“It’s easier to just stay in the role”, you explained your behavior to him when he shot you a curious look after closing the door behind the two of you, “That way if someone walks in on us unexpectedly, there is no scrambling to get back into it.”
He nodded in agreement, but you didn’t fail to notice the glimmer in his eyes as he did so, slightly smiling. Did he notice something was off? Probably. But even if he did, he didn’t mention or ask anything, and you were glad he didn’t: you weren’t sure if you could tell exactly what was going on either.
Tengen was gone for a big part of the afternoon, doing recon and mission prep.
“Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about,” he had said with a grin, and he had left with a promise to come join you at the pool whenever he was done. You were allowed to spend the afternoon as you wanted, so you had grabbed a book, and found a nice spot by the pool. You settled in with a drink and a fruit platter, enjoying the sun on your face and an occasional swim to cool down before letting yourself get carried away into the fantasy world of your book again.
“Yo~ Looks like you’re having a good time even without me here?”
You were startled by Tengen’s sudden appearance, standing next to your chair. You remembered your role swiftly though, looking up at him with a smile.
“Oh you’re back, dea-”
You interrupted yourself, blinking a couple of times, finding yourself flustered and a little shocked by the sight in front of you. Tengen had changed into swimwear too, which made sense considering the environment, but for some reason you hadn’t expected to come face to face with his abs when you looked up from your book. His usual tight clothes left not that much to the imagination, but his tight swimwear took away what little fantasy you still had left. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering just a little, from his chest to his abs to his muscled thighs, a part usually hidden by his baggy pants, back up to whatever tiny scrap of fabric was hiding the essentials. You felt your face heat up, and opened your mouth a few times to finish your sentence, but you couldn’t, momentarily stunned into silence. It felt like hours before he moved, a few beautiful, wonderful hours, but in reality it must’ve been only a few seconds if it was even that long at all.
He just chuckled, crouching down by your side to hand you another drink, kissing your cheek, seamlessly picking up the conversation.
“I’m sorry for taking so long, I know I promised I’d only take a small nap”
You swallowed, taking the drink, the cold glass helping you return to your senses, playfully smacking his arm.
“And then you fell asleep and I had to escape your loud snoring, as always.”
There you go, you were right back into your role. He laughed in response, taking the chair next to you. You sipped some of your drink, regaining your focus and calming your senses. You were taken off guard by your own reaction to Tengen. This was all just a little play you were putting on for the sake of the mission, right? And as his wife, you definitely shouldn’t be having such an extreme reaction to seeing him like that. And yet.
You had expected Tengen to leave you the minute the sun went under, but he had surprised you by saying he’d have dinner together with you -better to keep up his cover. You’d go early enough so he wouldn’t miss out on too much of the evening, but long enough to actually lure out the demons and carry out the mission swiftly.
You were pleasantly surprised by the idea. After spending all afternoon at the pool you had expected that was as far as the act would go for today. After all, you had swum together, sat together in the pool, a strong arm around you as you found yourself trying not to focus of the feeling of his body pleasantly pressed into yours, and talked a little about your book. You found yourself really enjoying his company -way more than you expected when you had agreed to this mission-, and getting to extend this quality time, whatever the nature of it, was an enjoyable add-on.
You went back to get changed, and had to do another double take when Tengen appeared in a hibiscus violet kimono, perfectly complimenting his eyes. His hair was loose, waves still damp from your earlier activities, and framed his face perfectly. He smiled at you in your kimono, complimenting you on your looks.
“You look absolutely gorgeous tonight, my wife.”
He added extra emphasis on those last two words, in a way that was barely noticeable for anyone listening along -even though you were alone in your room. Besides that little inside joke, his words sounded genuine. You chuckled in response, waving his compliment away with your hand and shaking your head. You weren’t sure how you were feeling about your body reacting to his words, but you hoped the butterflies that had come to settle in your stomach would quiet down, so you could enjoy the food.
During dinner Tengen was a perfect gentleman again: holding your hand all the way till the restaurant part of the resort, only letting go to open doors for you and taking out your chair. The food was exquisite, dishes you had never had the opportunity to taste before, every single one tasting heavenly.
You were mostly surprised by how easily you were making conversation. Initially, you feared it’d be a bit of a hassle, considering you had to pretend to be married, and there was no way you could talk about work to not break your cover. You had started just talking about how you liked the resort, the food and then the conversation had switched to old memories, and through them you got to know each other a little better. The conversation felt intimate, sharing memories you normally wouldn’t share with just a coworker, just a casual friend. But the stories proved to be the best possible way for you to pass the time without being off topic or suspicious, and since all the stories were true, you didn’t even have to lie to make them believable.
Tengen listened to you intently as you talked, laughing loudly whenever you added a funny remark, and whenever he did so, you felt the butterflies fluttering in your chest. By now you were painfully aware of your predicament, but there was very little you could say about it in the moment without blowing your cover. Besides, you had to keep in mind that this was just for the mission. After this weekend you would go back to being coworkers, friends maybe, but nothing much more than that. It would be improper.
You weren’t sure if Tengen was this good an actor, or if he was genuinely having the conversation you were having. You only knew that he seemed a little startled when he noticed just how dark it had gotten already, and seemed a little out of it when he announced that it may be for the best for you to retreat to your room. The way he winked at you when he said that made your heart skip a beat, even though you rationally knew it was merely an excuse again for anyone who could possibly overhear. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel like he was a little disappointed to cut your date short as well.
You woke up in the middle of the night, confused and disoriented for a few seconds before you remembered where you were. You weren’t sure how late it was, but there was still no trace of the sun coming up in the distance, so you couldn’t have slept for that long yet. Tengen had gone off to do the mission work right after dropping you off at the room, sneakily escaping through the window, and you had decided to go to sleep not that long after. You asked him multiple times if he needed or wanted any help, and he had assured you just as many times that he would be perfectly fine.
Staying behind like that, while you had agreed upon it initially, worked against all your instincts: you knew you could be useful out there. It was hard not to worry. Tengen had shared some details on the mission, but had kept you in the dark for most of it, mentioning that with too many details you might come after him or try to help even though your only job today was to relax. During the day, that was not a very hard task to accomplish, but by night, especially when you were all alone here in your room, it became so much harder to ignore your very nature as a demon slayer. Especially knowing Tengen was out there risking his life. No matter how strong anyone was, there would always be a risk when you go out.
There was very little you could do right now though. You had no idea of Tengen’s game plan, nor did you know his exact location. If you went out now, you would only endanger yourself and possibly risk the entire plan failing. You knew when to stay put, so you did, but that didn’t mean it was an easy move.
It didn’t help that you were wide awake now, too overwhelmed by a mixed bag of emotions, too many of them to sort out. You were feeling antsy, muscles itching to do something, anything. You couldn’t help but feel a little worried too, listening to the quiet outside for any noises that might give away what was going on outside. But the only noises greeting you back were those of nocturnal woodland critters.
And then there were the…other feelings, by lack of a better term. You had been feeling some type of way towards Tengen today, and while you could probably define them more precisely, you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to. After all, no matter how open minded he was, it felt a little wrong to develop a crush on your coworker. Especially since he was happily married. Thrice.
Yet you couldn’t deny the spots where he had touched and held you today under the guise of your fake relationship were feeling a little warmer, a pleasant warmness that made you feel a little safer, even now he wasn’t around.
You could deny any less that the image of him in his swimwear by the pool was burned into your retinas, the mere idea making your face heat up just a little.
Your main concern now was for him to get back safely. After that you would figure out what to do with all the feelings stirring inside you. Maybe you would address them, talk to him about it. But just as well, you’d suppress them, waiting for them to eb away as you spent less time together. Most missions were solo anyway.
You looked out the window, the sky in the distance faintly changing colors from an inky black to a deep blueish purple. It wouldn't be long before those transitioned to purples, pinks and reds as the sun came up. It was later than you expected it to be, and you had hoped that Tengen would wrap up before sunrise. Either way, the mission would be paused or -hopefully- be finished when the morning started. You very consciously left out the third option: the mission had failed, and you were waiting for someone who wouldn’t return.
You felt safe, you felt warm.
There was a certain serenity that came with your current state: unbothered, ready to conquer the world. You woke up to the warmness of the sun on your face, and you had to blink a couple of times before your eyes got adjusted to the brightness of the light. Why was it light?
You jolted up, suddenly realizing you must’ve fallen asleep again. The sudden movement caused Tengen to groan in pain. Tengen. He was back.
It took you a few seconds to puzzle everything together. It was definitely day now, almost noon, judging by the position of the sun, and the brightness with which it shone. You hadn’t noticed Tengen coming back, at least not consciously so, but he was back. He was back and he was alive. A wave of relief washed over you, only to be quickly replaced with embarrassment, as you realized just how you were laying. Your futon a few yards away, your body resting half on top of Tengen’s instead; his groan had been a reaction to your elbow punching his ribcage as you got up a little too fast. He still had an arm loosely wrapped around your waist, and you had finally gained enough clarity to notice some dried up blood on his skin.
You sat up completely, more carefully now, looking over at Tengen. His eyes were still closed, but he seemed awake enough. His face was contorted into a slightly pained expression, and you noticed now that he was covered in bruises and small cuts. No injury bad enough to worry you, but still, enough of them for you to feel guilty. You really should have insisted on coming with him.
You got up to gather your medical supplies, noticing they were out and about already. Grabbing some gauze, water, a clean towel and disinfectant, you sat down next to him and started cleaning off the dried blood, disinfecting cuts and scrapes where necessary. This did wake Tengen up fully, and he sat up just a little with another groan. He didn’t stop you from your work, instead silently removed his shirt so you had better access and a better overview.
This time your reaction to his naked torso was different: you gasped when you noticed some nasty wounds, things an experienced Hashira like him shouldn’t have if the mission was as routine as he had made it out to be. Any and all admiration for his physique was immediately replaced by worry, and you immediately got to taking care of the wounds as much as you could.
It was silent for a bit as you worked, Tengen not reacting at all, except for muscles sometimes twitching as you touched him. You were the first to speak up, as you were almost done taking care of him, smoothing over a bandage with gentle motions.
“What happened last night?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. You didn’t say a word, kept your face neutral. You gave him the time and space he needed to come up with an explanation. How the demon wasn’t entirely like his recon had made him think it was. How his traps had been avoided, and how the battle was a hard fought one. He did finish the job -of course- but it hadn’t been as flashily as he had hoped, and moreso, he had taken a while to get back to the resort, the demon nearly getting away as he ran further and further away from the resort when it became clear that the battle was lost.
“When I came back here, the sun was almost up again, and I found you resting with your head on the windowsill, as if you had fallen asleep looking out, waiting for me. I will admit that made me feel guilty, maybe I should have asked you to come along after all.”
You nodded, agreeing with his words, but you knew why he had made the decisions he did. He was safe, and that was all that matters, you weren’t sure if you could handle the loss of another friend. The fact that he made you worried paled in comparison to the more joyful one that he was safe, not as hurt as he could have been and made his way back to you eventually.
“I think I woke you up a little by climbing back into the room, but you weren’t fully awake.” He chuckled now, his tone way more lighthearted than when he was telling you the details of his fight.
“You mumbled my name, and when I went to move you to your futon, you clinged onto me so hard that I didn’t get to put you down without moving you. Hence our position when you woke up earlier.”
You smiled sheepishly, apologizing for your sleeping self, feeling a little flustered at the way you must’ve acted. Tengen didn’t seem too bothered by it though, if anything he seemed amused.
“It’s okay. Very flattering to have you clinging to me like a little koala bear.”
“If you weren’t injured, I’d smack you right now.”
He just laughed in response, and the sound reawakened the butterflies. You felt the heat creep up your neck, towards your ears, and you decided to hide your state by cleaning up your supplies and already repacking your bag. You’d be going home today, after all, and maybe for the best. You weren’t sure just how much longer you could last in his presence.
The decision to go home early came pretty easy. It would be a hassle to explain how your ‘husband’ got hurt during the night, and it would be even harder to avoid stares or questions as you spent more time in the resort, especially if you would spend more time at the pool.
You insisted that Tengen get his injuries checked out properly as well, even though he was adamant that he’d be fine. You were just a little worried, and you were by no means a healer, you didn’t want him to scar unnecessarily.
The trip back was quiet for the most part, a comfortable silence, mostly broken by Tengen asking questions or talking away. Hard for a sound hashira to stay completely silent the whole way, it didn’t match his personality either. You were too caught up in your own head to truly participate in the conversations, though, and you were sure Tengen at least noticed as much.
When the time came to part ways, you lingered just a little too long, pretending to just double check your possessions. Tengen lingered too, waiting nearby, when you finally realized what he was probably waiting for.
“Here you go”, you held out your hand, returning the jewelry he had given you to match his for the mission, a little extra detail to make you more officially like husband and wife. You had played with one of the rings on the way back, twisting it around your finger a couple of times, trying to stop your mind from imagining what it would be like wearing the jewelry in earnest.
He looked confused for a second -was it not what he was waiting for? and then shook his head.
“Oh no, you can keep those. Think of them as a token of my appreciation, and a fun memory of our relationship, which lasted the full two days”, he said with a wink, making your brain a jumbled mess again with just two sentences.
“If you insist”, you managed to squeak out, and you carefully tucked the jewelry away again, slipping one of the rings around your middle finger, pleased with the way it looked. It also helped you steer your focus away from Tengen, who was still standing very close to you, and you were hoping he’d step back before you’d have to make eye contact again. He didn’t though. Instead, you felt his hand carefully cup your jaw, tilting your face just as carefully, so you could no longer stare at your fingers. His thumb caressed your cheek, and you were sure he must feel the heat radiating from your face, enough to burn that hand. Even if he noticed, he didn’t show, instead just smiling at you.
“Thank you for being my wife for two days. It really was an honor to have you by my side for a little while, and you did actually help a lot, this mission.”
You shrugged in response, painfully aware that you’d be unable to form long intricate sentences as long as he was touching you like that, looking at you like that, standing close to you like that.
“It was just a little m-mission. I barely did anything.”
He chuckled.
“No, I think you did plenty.”
He leaned down, kissing your cheek to kiss you goodbye, missing your lips by an inch, and you felt your legs almost give way as your knees buckled.
“whaoh; didn’t think such a small and unflashy gesture would have such an effect on you?” He smirked, his tone teasing. Oh, he was fully aware of what had been happening, and you just walked right into his trap.
“I- you-” You took a deep breath, not wanting to stutter your way through an explanation. You weren’t even sure what you were trying to explain. How would you even tell him that-
“Don’t you worry, I know what’s been going on. This mission may or may not have been a little push, and my wives may or may not have been in the know. I am not saying that Hina came up with the idea, but I am saying she may have been involved even more than the two others.”
He smiled while you were trying to process his words, a task too big for your brain to manage, as his lips had left you unable to properly think.
“How about I invite you over sometime soon, hm? A proper date, no pretenses. See how it goes?”
You couldn’t do anything but just nod, still processing what was going on. He smirked; that very handsome smirk again and leaned down once more to leave the shortest and softest kiss on your lips.
Fandom/Ships: SPN: Wincest Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 3929
Warnings and Tags: smut, post - All Hell Breaks Loose part 2, early seasons, season 2, Praise kink, topping from the bottom, Imperfect sex, Overwhelming sex, coming too early, rimming, spit as lube, come as lube, Sibling dynamics, sibling incest, Dirty talk, switch Sam, switch Dean, bottom Dean/top Sam, over simulation, hand jobs, blow jobs, oral sex, codependent, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, seeking connection, sex as a means of reinforcing romantic feelings, toxic co dependency,
Summary: Sam wakes from a nightmare that will soon be a reality. Dean tries to comfort him while he still can, willing to do anything to be there for his little brother.
Author Notes: Yay for reveals!! I feel like I only ever write wincest for pitch hits, and every time it is so fun and always ends up so smutty. I need to just write them all the time without prompting. I hope this hits the mark for you and you enjoy it! It was a treat to get to write them again. Thank you for pulling me back into supernatural and back into wincest. I will truly never leave, and I enjoy it endless.
Happy Reading! I appreciate every like, comment, and reblog! ❤️
Read a snipping from, I'm Still Here, Rated Explicit, below or in full on my Ao3.
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I'm Still Here
Dean couldn't remember when Sam had started crawling into his bed again. Maybe it was after Jess had burned, and he'd wake with nightmares, or maybe it had been when the visions worsened and sleep got harder. The elder of the two hadn't said anything about it, and neither had Sam. He'd simply held him, promising to keep him safe.
Even after Cold Oak, and he’d failed, Dean swore to both of them that he would be Sam's haven once he got him back. He managed in the end to bring his world back and kept his promise, regardless of Sam's anger. Dean couldn't lose him, even if now Sam was faced with a future without him. The elder hunter couldn't live without him, couldn't find the point without his brother, and had vowed with the demon deal that he would never let anyone take Sam from him again. He'd sell his soul again before that happened.
Sam may not like it — they had fought enough about it, but Dean couldn't break his promise. He couldn't not save Sam no matter what the cost and even if Sam understood the need, his younger brother was lost at the prospect of being without him. Dean felt the heartache when they had fought over something unchangeable, but wouldn't let Sam put his deal in jeopardy and allow his baby brother to be stolen away. Dean would protect Sam for as long as he could, be with him every moment he could, and with each touch he’d repeat the vow. That Dean loved him above everyone and anyone, including himself. He'd hold his Sammy close under the sheets in whatever dark motel they had chosen to remain in, and carefully peel away the horrors that swamed in the younger man's mind.
At least until he couldn’t anymore.
It was those horrors that had Dean’s eyes opening slowly, blinking into the darkness at the browning ceiling. He shifted under the just shy of too scratchy sheets, feeling the warmth beside him that he hadn’t fallen asleep with, wondering exactly what had woken him. The familiar shape was now pressed, nearly nude and flush against his side shifted with him. His tongue rolled in his dry mouth, remaining still and listening to the sound of his brother’s breathing.
After a few moments of focusing on Sam, he was sure it had been his brother’s quiet whimpers and groans that had woken him from his own fitful sleep. His head turned first, looking through the darkness of the small room they were currently calling home. The lamplight from the parking lot was the only light within it, dim and bleak as it filtered through the blinds to illuminate the sleeping and half naked man beside him. Green eyes took in Sam's pinched features, his body turning slowly into his side to look over the strain in his younger brother's twitching arms.
Dean didn't hesitate as he reached out through the shadows that danced across Sam's face, an arm wrapping around his little brother’s bare bicep, gripping it softly while his thumb brushed over tensing muscles.
"Sammy?" His voice was garbled with sleep as he shifted closer, propping himself up on one arm and leaning over Sam, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He frowned at the feeling of cold sweat against his lips. "Sam, you're sleeping. Wake up, Sammy," he whispered into his clammy skin, trying to soothe the nightmare with careful kisses and a reassuring touch.
new pitt/animal kingdom crossover: you soothe my soul (and I stop searching)
pls pay attention to the tags and keep scrolling if this fic isn't for you. if it is your vibe, enjoy!
andrew "pope" cody/jack abbot; animal kingdom (tv) , the pitt (tv)
6.3k, explicit, creator chose not to use archive warnings
tags: reunions, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, sibling incest, twincest, it's rough growing up a cody
“You left us. You walked away like we meant nothing to you. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to protect Julia from Smurf without you?”
Jack’s eyes flashed, and he shoved Pope back with more force than Pope thought him capable of. “I begged you to come, Andrew, and you picked Smurf. After all she put us through, you picked her.”
*
After almost twenty years apart, Pope visits his twin in Pittsburgh.
you soothe my soul (and I stop searching)
written for @sublightsleeper as part of the five figure fandom exchange (fffx)
Namjoon and Jeongguk have an incredible friendship, a bond so tight that their friends don’t think twice about it until they kiss on Jeongguk’s birthday.
(or 6 +1 times namkook get mistaken for being just friends)
🤎namkook
🤎6k words | explicit | complete
🤎6 + 1 fic, fluff, smut and more
read on ao3
song: the love by jadu heart
thank you to my lovely beta readers lil and tes for making this story possible, and thank YOU for reading! 🤍
If you enjoyed this story, you can send me a lil gift here.
