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didoldacc · 1 year ago

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maybe i am not a sub 🕴 anyways...

Love you, love you, love you...

Summary: You go into your arranged marriage already distrusting your husband and all other men, and despite him repeatedly attempting to gain your favor, you are resolved to rebuke him at every turn. Will you manage to keep up the walls you’ve built to protect yourself, or will prince Beomgyu succeed in getting through your defenses?

Word Count: 11k

General warnings: oc is basically a misandrist, she will not hear gyu out, her calling him a pinhead, gyu using the word rape (no one actually gets raped), oc being a bitch about their first time and making fun of gyu’s hesitance, oc is emotionally stunted, inaccurate description of first times, beomgyu and others calling him a sissy, arranged marriages.

Smut warnings: sub!gyu, dom!reader, riding, cunnilingus, masturabtion under guidance, edging, premature ejaculation, breeding kink, playing with nipples.

“We don’t have to do this.”

You stand in front of your newly-wedded husband, livid.

“You think I’m too fragile to consummate my marriage?”

“No, I–” He attempts to explain himself but you cut him off. “Just because I was forced into this marriage doesn’t mean I can’t fulfill my duties.” You growl, offended by how weak he must think you are.

“I was just saying that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He stammers, trying to recover from his unintended offense, and you snort derisively. “It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”

He gulps and shakes his head. “I know you didn’t want to get married to me but I can do right by you. I will never–”

You roll your eyes, drowning out his yapping. This is your least favorite breed of men–the ones who pretend they’re not like the others. Had you been less jaded, you might’ve fallen for it, but when your own father sold you out to the highest bidder, you’d be forgiven for your lack of faith in men.

“Shut up and take off my dress.” You cut him off.

“You really–” He tries again and you snap, all patience gone. “Fucking do it, you sissy.”

His jaw smacks shut and he levels you with a glare. There it is, that male aggression you’re so familiar with. He storms over to you and clumsily undoes the intricate lacing on your wedding dress, struggling with them for some time until he finally, finally pushes the dress off and it falls to the ground at your feet.

But no further movement comes from him and you turn around to see him sheepishly looking at the floor, avoiding glancing at your bare body.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” You grunt, reaching out to take his own clothing off. He lets you do it without a fight, the only protest being his flaming red cheeks.

You let out a laugh when you pull his pants to the floor and are greeted by the sight of his hard cock that smacks against his naked belly. “All this protest, trying to act virtuous, when you’re just as horny as the rest of the pigs.”

That gets him angry. Good, at least it’s not fake righteousness. “I am not a pi–ah!”

Whatever his rant was going to be is quickly cut off when you grab his cock and pump it in your hand. “You can pretend all you want but your body says it all.”

“What? So I’m a pig for being attracted to my wife?” He manages to grit out, calling you out for your judgment of him, but you’re not interested in having this conversation right now.

“Shut up.” You throw back lamely, getting onto the bed and spreading your legs out. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

But he remains rooted to his spot, scowl full-fledged on his handsome face now. “I don’t want to feel like I’m raping my own wife.”

“Either way I have no choice.”

“Then I’ll make the choice for us. I can sleep in a different room.” He announces, bending down to pick up his discarded clothes and you panic. Yes, you didn’t want to get married to him in the first place, but the rumors that will spread about you if people find out that your husband fled your marital bed on your wedding night,–you shudder to think of it. It’s one thing to be viewed as a pariah among your peers, but it’s another thing entirely to fuel their outlandish claims.

“I want this!” You exclaim frantically, blushing as he gives you an incredulous look. “I want you to fuck me.”

His will seems to weaken for a second, and he looks like he’s about to give in, but then the doubt sets in again. “You don’t really–”

At your wit’s end, you reach out to grab his arm and tug him towards you, causing him to basically stumble on top of you on the bed.

“I’m–I’m so sorry–” He quickly apologizes even though it was clearly your fault, and he props himself up on his elbows so he’s not pressed against you. Though he curiously doesn’t stand back up, and there is one particular part of him you can feel pressed against your belly, still hard.

“I want you to fuck me, Beomgyu.” You repeat firmly, and maybe it’s the close proximity or the feel of your skin against his hot dick, but he finally gives in. “Okay.”

He wedges a hand between your bodies. You can’t see what he’s doing but you know he had grabbed his cock because a moment later you feel it pressed against your pussy. Harshly, you will down a shiver that tries to slither its way up your spine at the touch.

But the strange sense of excitement is short-lived, lost in the clumsiness of the man above you trying and failing to find your entrance.

“I just–it’s hard to see–” He explains awkwardly, pulling back to get a better look. You can’t refrain from rolling your eyes at the pitiful scene, which only makes him more nervous.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” You groan after a while of watching him fumble around with his dick, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him. He stares at you, wide-eyed, as you grab his dick and line it up with your entrance before you start to sink down on him.

Your outburst may have been more powerful if you didn’t then stop one-third of the way down because of the pain. “Oh.”

Beomgyu notices your discomfort and reaches out to hold you up. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You grit, forcing yourself to take more of him.

“Wait–take it slow–” He wheezes out, even as he clearly fights to not get lost in the feeling of your hot cunt.

“I can take it.” You tell yourself more than him, bracing yourself as you take the rest of him in. Once you’re perched on his hips, you give yourself a moment to get used to the painful stretch. Beomgyu on the other hand is in ecstasy, his breathing heavy and his fingers clenching around your plush thighs to keep himself in check.

Seeing him so affected by you like this is what begins to lift the shock of the pain and allows you to feel a bit of pleasure as you will yourself to relax. He just lies there all pliant and still beneath you, not once using his grip on you to make you move despite you clearly feeling his hips twitch with the attempt to hold back from thrusting up into your heat.

“Are you a virgin?” You ask, intrigued by his reactions, and his affirmative response is a given. “Yeah…”

If any other man had claimed virginity, especially a wealthy, privileged man like him, you would’ve called bullshit, but with him you one hundred percent believe it.

Finally feeling like you’re ready to move, you start swiveling your hips over him, trying to stretch yourself out in preparation for more. “Is it everything you imagined it to be?”

He shakes his head, and for a second you have to contend with the ugly feeling his rejection sparked in you. But then he continues, “It’s better.”

You scoff. Liar. You’re barely even moving. Why is he bullshiting you? What does he stand to gain from that? Whatever, you’ll give him something to really make his head spin.

Bracing your hands onto his tummy, you lift your hips up before letting yourself drop down.

“Oh god.” The breath whooses out of him, and you’re surprised to find that the action actually sparks a tiny bit of pleasure in you too. So you do it again and again, moving up and down until you’re all out riding his cock.

“That good?” You coax, trying not to think about why you even feel the need to have him affirm his enjoyment to you.

“Too good.” He answers tightly, biting his lip. You feel his grip move from your thighs to your ass, getting more purposeful as he tries to control your movement. “Slow down.”

Like hell you will when it just started getting good. You grab his hands and pin them down beside his head. "Keep those here, understand?" You hiss at him. You won’t let him try to control you

He whimpers, nodding, and something about his easy submissiveness makes your pussy clench. But that seems to spur him on again, and his hands shoot out to grab you once more. “Hold on!”

You snatch his hands up and shove them onto the bed again, keeping them pinned down this time. "Shut up." He might be the man but he doesn’t get to tell you what to do. This isn’t for his enjoyment. This is purely for the purpose of fully consummating your marriage. You want this to be over as fast as possible.

Except you didn’t expect it to be over this fast.

“You don’t understand, I–I–” He flounders, and suddenly you feel something warm paint your insides and you stare incredulously at the panting man under you, clearly in the throes of orgasm.

"Fuck, did you cum already?"

"I'm sorry. I asked you to slow down." He answers pathetically and you look down at him in disgust. Well, there goes any hope of you getting off tonight. Not that you expected it in the first place.

"Whatever. This is better anyway." You go to hop off him but he reaches out and one of your arms. “Wait. I can make it up to you.”

“How?” You ask skeptically.

"Let me make you cum."

Let’s see, do you want him to clumsily try to fuck you to orgasm for the next few minutes before he inevitably ejaculates prematurely once more?

"No, I'm tired." You shoot him down, disinterested, but he doesn’t give up, grabbing onto you tighter and peering up at you earnestly. "Please, just give me a chance."

It’s clear that he won’t give this up. It’s probably gonna take longer to convince him to leave you alone than it will for him to try and fail to make you orgasm. So with a heavy sigh, you lie down on your back, closing your eyes and willing yourself away from this moment. "Fine. You have one chance."

But your eyes snap back open when you feel something wet against your pussy, and look down to see him with his head between your legs, licking you.

Most men would never do this. They just feel entitled to getting their dicks sucked while acting like it's so gross to repay the favor. But here is Beomgyu eating you unreservedly after he just came inside you. Either he's really not as bad as the others or he's a fucking freak. Probably the latter. Definitely the latter, but that doesn’t mean you can't take advantage of it.

Beomgyu clearly doesn't know what he's doing, clumsily licking at your pussy like it's a tart, but that's okay. You can guide him through it. That would end this sooner and you might actually get an orgasm out of it.

"Flatten your tongue out and lick from the bottom to the top." You instruct and he eagerly obeys, licking from your entrance to your clit again and again, his eyes never leaving your face as he monitors your reaction.

“Yeah, just like that.” You encourage, starting to feel a twinge of pleasure at the pit of your stomach. “Now wiggle your tongue. Good… go back to licking.”

You guide him, making him alternate between sharp quick movements and long languid licks along your whole slit. Every once in a while, he’d pull his tongue back in his mouth to wet it and his lips would pucker and he would suck on your sensitive pussy, making your whole body tremble. It doesn’t take him long to notice, and then he starts doing it on purpose, more frequently, sucking your lower lips or you clit into his mouth before letting them go and attacking them with sharp swipes of his tongue then licking up all the arousal his actions produce.

You hate how quickly he picks it all up, reducing you to a shaking mess in no time.

Nearing your end, you grab his hair and push his face against your pussy. “I’m close. Focus on the clit now.”

He moans at that, the sound traveling straight through your pussy, and it's the push you need to cum, crying out and tugging sharply on his hair as your orgasm shakes through you. Beomgyu doesn’t mind the roughness. On the contrary, it motivates him to nuzzle further into your pussy, encouraged by your reaction and fishing for more, until you tug his hair in the opposite direction, moving him away from you.

"Beomgyu, enough." You squeak at the overstimulation, and he whines in protest, trying to fight against your grip to dive back in but you close your legs, denying him.

He whines again but settles on pressing wet kisses against your heated thighs, looking up at you like a pup who just finished playing and is now resting on his master's lap, and just as adorable.

At that final disturbing thought, you push him off you and get up to grab something to slip on. Beomgyu doesn’t make any attempt to do the same, his eyes glued to your figure as you put a nightgown on.

"Aren't you going to get dressed?" You ask, trying not to glance at his naked body that he doesn’t even try to cover.

He shrugs. "It's too hot."

"Well, I'd prefer if you put something on. I don't want to sleep in the same bed as a naked man."

He looks at you like you’re being ridiculous. "We're married. We just fucked." He says slowly and you put your hands on your hips, not appreciating the way he's speaking to you like you’re stupid.

"Yeah, and now we're done. I don't want to see your floppy dick anymore."

"It wasn't floppy." He frowns, upset at the way you're speaking about his precious dick. Typical man, the slightest suggestion that you wouldn't be grateful to see his dick hurts his pride.

But he gets up nonetheless, quickly putting some pants on before rejoining you on the bed. He doesn’t wear a shirt and you don’t bother fighting him on this. You just turn your back to him and close your eyes, determined to go to sleep quickly and end this ridiculous night.

But any thought of sleep is stolen from your tired brain when you feel arms wrapping around you. "What the hell are you doing?" You ask him incredulously and he stammers in response, clearly not expecting you to object to the action. "I–I just thought we could… cuddle."

You can see the blush on his face even in the dim light. "No. No. There will be none of that. I’ve fulfilled my duty as a wife already so keep your hands to yourself."

His face falls, hurt crashing across it, and you’re suddenly hit with the sickening realization of what's going on here.

Beomgyu likes you.

It should've been obvious. From the way he looks at you, to wanting to make sure you don't do anything you don't want to, to striving to please you too, and now to trying to hold you to sleep.

Well, too bad. You don't owe him love.

You turn your back on his dejected expression. Just because he ate you out doesn’t mean you’ll start playing at being in love.

________________

But you learn that Beomgyu isn't so easily deterred, and he seems determined to chip away at your walls brick by brick. Though, you’re just as determined and as soon as he takes one away, you put ten in its place.

“Darling.”

You wince as you hear your husband’s voice call out. Damn it, he’s found you.

He trots down to you like an excited puppy, entirely too happy to be seeing you. He can’t actually be this excited to be around you despite your constant rejection of him, can he? Why isn’t he out there with the rest of the men doing whatever the men do?

“Oh, you’re playing chess? Can I play next?”

“Sure. I’m done anyway.” You say, getting up and getting hit by the most puppy-like pout you’ve seen on a human. “But I thought we could play a game together.”

“I’m tired. I want to lie down.” You lie, wanting to get away from him, but your treacherous friend chooses now to pipe up. “Oh, come one. Play a game with him. Or are you scared he’ll beat you?”

Damn her, she knows how to get to you. You know she’s doing this purely because she’s been sucked in by your husband’s guileless act and she’s been consistently trying to get you to give him a chance, telling you that maybe he really isn’t like other men. You should pick better friends.

You huff and plop back down on your chair, your friend grinning widely as she gets up and lets Beomgyu take her spot. Whatever, you’ll beat his stupid ass and humiliate him so bad, he’ll show his true colors. Men never like to be bested by the women they look down on.

But to your horror and utter dismay–after an embarrassingly short game where you flounder and fail to mount any meaningful attack against him–Beomgyu ends up beating. And he does it with a smile too, like it was so easy, like he was beating a child.

“Checkmate.” He claps his hands happily. “I’m pretty good, huh?

You don’t reciprocate his excitement. Instead you level him with a cold look that projects all your shame and self-doubt into hatred and accusation towards him. "You think you're better than me?"

All semblance of joy is suddenly sucked out of him, his eyes widening in alarm. “No! I was just–”

“Let’s play again. I will beat you this time.” You pointedly assemble the pieces back on the board, slamming them into place, face set in a severe frown.

“I just wanted us to have fun together doing something you enjoy. Maybe impress you…” He mumbles but it’s all background noise to you, already formulating a plan of attack in your mind.

You win the next game, but you draw no satisfaction from it. How can you when your opponent clearly wouldn’t fight back? He misses obvious plays, leaves himself vulnerable to easy attacks, and his moves are devoid of the quit wit he displayed earlier.

“Take this seriously, dammit.” You yell at him after you win once again because he just wouldn’t attack your pieces.

Take me seriously. A voice pipes up from deep within your unconsciousness before you squash it back down.

“Not everything is a competition.” He huffs glumly and you stare at him incredulously. “It is a competition, pinhead. That’s the definition of a game.”

“Haven’t you heard of a friendly game?” He asks, a hint of sharpness you’re not used to from him tinging his voice.

“We’re not friends.” You answer dumbly, and he scoffs softly. “Clearly.”

He gets up and you gawk at him. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m done. God forbid I accidently make you actually have fun.”

“Hey, I have fun!” You shout, getting up too, and he has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Yeah? When?”

“All the fucking time.” You lie through your teeth, for some reason feeling like you need to prove yourself to him, like you need to best him at something, but he still doesn’t believe you.

“Show me then. Let’s do something fun.”

“Sure! Let’s go to–let’s check out the–let’s–let’s–” You stammer and he gives you a skeptical look. “Oh, fuck off. Like you have a blast every day.”

“I do, actually.” He straightens up, happy with himself for some reason.

“Oh yeah, then show me what you do that is so fun.”

_______________________

‘You deeply regret challenging him,’ you think as you watch the idiot that is now perched onto a tree branch, grabbing a rope that is dangling from higher up on the ancient tree.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” You yell, craning your head up to look at him.

“Well, then at least you’ll be happy.” He comments off-handedly and you frown. You wouldn’t be happy if he hurt himself. Yes, you didn’t want to get married to him, but that doesn’t mean that you wish the idiot any actual harm.

Before you can think whether to refute his words out loud, he clings onto the rope and takes off into the air, swinging over the lake under him before letting go and plummeting down into it with a big splash.

“Oh my god!” You scream, frantically peering over the edge of the water, scanning the outpour of bubbles for signs of your dumb husband.

After what felt like eternity, he resurfaces, whooping in excitement. “Whoah, that was awesome!”

You give him a skeptical look, eyeing the water warily, when he pipes up again, “Try it. You’ll love it!”

“Yeah, no thanks.” You dismiss him quickly, having absolutely no desire to willingly follow him into the murky lake.

“What’s wrong? Scared you might actually have fun?” He goads.

Yes, you’re scared. Not of having fun, but of the ominous water. You’ve never been a big fan of swimming, not trusting your fate to the fickle gods that control those menacing depths. But you’d never tell him that. You’d rather die than admit to him you’re scared of an activity he performs so nonchalantly.

So you steel yourself and head towards the tree he had jumped off earlier, taking off your dress to get it out of the way before climbing onto the thing.

"Do you need help?" He calls out, swimming towards you.

"No, thanks, I'm not a damsel in distress." You snark, grabbing onto the tree firmly and using the branches to pull yourself up.

You can feel his eyes on you the whole way, no doubt waiting for you to fail and call for help, but he's got another thing coming if he thinks you’re a weak girl who needs a man's help to do anything physical.

"Whoa, look at you go." His laughing voice wafts up to you and you can't tell if his surprise is good-natured or condescending.

The climb is easy enough. You’re used to doing such physical activities, much to the chagrin of your parents who always urged you to act more ladylike and stop embarrassing them.

'Well, fuck them, and fuck him,’ you think triumphantly as you reach the large branch he jumped off. But your triumph is short lived, promptly snuffed out by the sight of the cold abyss underneath you.

He must've seen the dread on your face because he calls out once again. "Hey, you okay?"

You shift your gaze from the water to his face, and the uncertain look on his face annoys the fuck out of you. You will not have him doubt you. You will not show weakness.

You grab onto the hanging rope, cringing at the slimy feel under your skin, but you power through your disgust and your fear, clinging onto the slippery thing as you swing forward.

But can’t get yourself to let go, the dreary water swirling underneath you compelling you to cling tighter to the rope.

"You gonna jump or what?" Beomgyu laughs and you almost don't hear him through the beating of your own heart in your ears. Still, you don't let go despite his provocation, your fingernails digging into your palms and your muscles burning as you continue to clutch onto the rope tightly.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm right here." You hear his voice right under you, taking on a concerned tone as you clearly struggle. "Come on, let go."

You don't want to. You want to go back to shore but you're stuck, suspended in the air, the slimy substance on the rope making your fingers slip bit by bit.

Fuck, you're gonna fall. You're gonna fall. You're gonna–

You scream as your grip finally falters and you plummet to the lake below. As you breach the surface, water rushes into your open lungs through your open mouth, suffocating you. You thrash around in panic, certain you're going to drown over a stupid dare.

You feel something grab onto you and you thrash harder, your panicked brain convincing you it’s the lake itself trying to bring you down to your demise at the cold, dark lakebed.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” You hear Beomgyu's muffled voice, followed by his face coming into view, his expression scared but trying to keep calm. "It's me. I got you."

I got you?

It takes a few more seconds for you to realize that the thing that had grabbed a hold of you earlier was not the lake but Beomgyu, and that instead of trying to pull you under, he's trying to keep your head above the water.

As soon as you realize that, you wrap yourself around him, clinging onto him for dear life, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Beomgyu keeps one of his arms wrapped around your waist and moves the other one up and down your back soothingly. “I got you. You’re okay. Take deep breaths.”

You do, following his lead, focusing on his breathing and mimicking the slowing rhythm until the both of you are sufficiently calm.

"There you go." He smiles, no hint of judgment or mockery on his face. “You alright?”

“I’m fucking cold.” Is all you can think to say, and he laughs, the sound warming you up. “Let’s get you out of here.”

What? Where the hell did that come from?

Beomgyu carries you on his back as he swims to the shore. It feels like forever but you eventually reach it, and as soon as you find your footing, you let go of him and scramble out of the water, throwing yourself to the ground. Eyes closed, you take in deep breaths, finally able to breathe properly once again.

"Do you not know how to swim?" Beomgyu asks, and you hear him sit down next to you.

"I know how to swim." You retort sharply, too sharply to a man who just saved your life. But you can’t help it, your pride is wounded after you embarrassed yourself like that in front of him. Besides, it was his fault all this happened anyway–him and his stupid wit and his stupid carelessness.

He is silent, but you know he clearly wants you to explain yourself. So begrudgingly, you add, "I just don't like it. The water freaks me out."

"Then why did you–oh." That small little syllable stings at your already bruised pride. You wait for him to make fun of you but he doesn’t say anything further, mercifully choosing to spare any possible remnants of your ego.

It’s quiet for a bit, and as you sit drying out, you feel something other than the sun burning your skin. You peek your eyes open to see him staring at you. He looks away when caught, blushing like a young boy caught staring at his crush instead of a man looking at his wife. He's ridiculous.

"What?" You prompt irritably.

"You're pretty." He murmurs bashfully and you scoff. "I know. That's why my father was able to sell me to a prince."

Beomgyu frowns, unhappy about you bringing this up again. Oh, did you ruin his little make-believe scene? "I didn't choose this either, you know?"

"You sure don't seem all that torn up about it." You retort, unkind about his obvious liking towards you.

"Because I can see that even though neither of us chose this, I was blessed to end up with such a smart, strong, beautiful wife. But you clearly don't think the same of me."

You don't think his response would elicit such a gnawing feeling of guilt inside you, but his self-pitiance coupled with his compliment of you makes you almost regret your attitude. But you refuse to give in to his guilt tripping. You don't owe him happiness. You're not going to bow down and be grateful because he deigns to like you.

At your silence, he scoffs and gets up. You fully expect him to turn around and walk away, leaving you behind, but to your surprise he offers you a hand instead.

"Don't look so surprised. You may choose to be cruel to me but I will never treat you the same way."

The nerve of this man! God, he pisses you off so much.

You push his hand away and pull yourself up on your own, getting dressed before stomping back towards the palace.

_______________________________

He keeps away from you after that. True to his words, he remains civil and courteous, but doesn't try to press for anything more… and you have to admit, you start to miss it.

Not because you hold any affection for him–of course, not!--but because you're alone here with no family and so few friends. Beomgyu on the other hand is surrounded by people who are delighted to have his company, ensuring he is never wanting for company or affection.

You on the other hand are woefully lonely, so much so that eventually you reach your breaking point, grabbing him one night while you're both getting ready for bed and kissing him.

"What? Am I finally worthy of your affection?" Beomgyu derides when you break the kiss. You have no right to be upset at his abrasiveness when you're the one who caused it but you still are. Why can’t he just shut up and give you what you need? Why must he make you feel even more embarrassed about your need for him? Not that you’d ever admit either to him.

"I'm in my fertile period. We need to make a baby." You cover your tracks, and he somehow still manages to be hurt by your response, as if he was actually expecting you to confess your undying love to him. "Wow, that is so sexy."

You roll your eyes and slip off your dress. "Is this sexy?"

He doesn’t even try to hide the way he ogles your body and you laugh, stripping him before pushing him onto the bed. "I thought so."

_______________________

As punishment for forcing you to almost reveal your alarmingly developing need for him, you concoct a cruel plan designed to repay him tenfold. You set out to satisfy your need while simultaneously maximizing his own by restricting any sexual intercourse between the two of you to your fertile period of every month, and spending the intervening time alternating between depriving him of your touch and teasing him until he’s begging you to let him have you.

He comes to memorize your schedule and, like a trained dog, starts getting restless close to the when you’d be fertile, staring at you like he's fucking you in his head, humping the bed in his sleep, sporting a semi-permenant hard on as the day draws closer.

"Did I say you could slow down?"

You take to edging and denying him during your sex-free periods on the pretense that you want him to be full and ready to breed you when the time comes. It's bullshit of course and he knows it too, but he wants to have a family with you so much and wants to please you so badly that he lets you do whatever you want to him.

"I'm close." He tries to excuse his disobedience but you have no patience for it.

"You can hold it." You assert, knowing full well he's near his breaking point, but it's just so fun to watch him fight with his own body to try to please you, caught between continuing as you want and risking cumming and angering you or stopping and angering you by disobeying.

"I can't." He shakes his head, despairing.

"You can." You say more gently this time, going for a different tactic, though no less devious. "You want to knock me up don't you? Wanna see me get big and round with your baby?"

"Fuck, stop it." He whines, his hand barely moving over his cock but not daring to stop.

"You're so pretty like this." You coo, knowing he's a sucker for your compliments. They're rare but he lives off of them.

"Oh." He gasps, speeding his pace on his cock, needing to hear more. You can see the muscles of his tummy tensing as he tries to hold back but his hips can't help but buck into his own hand. "Please. Just let me cum once. My balls are so full. I'll have so much for you still. It's been so long."

God, you love making him do this. He'll do anything you ask of him. Maybe he's rotten like all men but at least his brand of sickness is fun to watch.

"It hasn't been one week. Are you that addicted to sex? Did you fuck yourself every day before I came along?"

He shakes his head, denying your accusations. "You keep teasing me, wearing those revealing clothes to bed. Touching me under the table. Whispering dirty things in my ear when we have company…"

"You love it, you dirty pup. I know you do."

"I love it. Love you touching me, love you toying with me, love you…"

He doesn't finish that lost one. He doesn't get to–or maybe that was the end of the sentence-before he suddenly spills his seed.

"Oh god. Oh god, I'm so sorry." He cries, just as surprised about his orgasm as you were. "I didn't mean to, I swear."

"But you did." You tsk, intent on milking his "disobedience" to death and making him whimper and cry like a scolded dog. But the sheer panic in his reply throws you off. "I know. I'm sorry. I tried to–" His voice cuts up in a hiccuping cry. "I tried to–tell you–to stop–I couldn't–help–ittt."

You stare at him in shock. He has tears streaming down his face, shoulders going up and down with every gasping breath he takes, and his hands are hovering nervously in the air as if he wants to reach out to you but is scared of what your reaction would be.

So you take it upon you to reach out to him instead, holding his hands in yours as you scooch towards him. "Hey, hey, it's okay."

"No, it's not." He shakes his head vigorously, tears flying off his pretty lashes. "I try so hard to be good for you and I can't even control myself. I know you’re mad."

"I'm not mad." You deny, but he just keeps shaking his head and mumbling sadly, "Didn’t mean to disappoint you."

"I'm not disappointed." You reassure him, more firmly this time. "It's just a game."

"You are–"

He obviously won't listen to your words so you go for a different route, cutting him off with a kiss that, thankfully, he easily melts into.

The kiss is tender–every diminishing sob released against your lips unwillingly tugging on your heartstrings until you feel completely wretched for somehow making it so he reacted so strongly to something so stupid. It was never your intention to make him actually suffer. You merely wished to protect yourself. But how do you do that when your distance is what's making him so miserable?

You do not owe him your love but does that mean that he can't earn it?

"I'm not mad." You repeat when you end the kiss and he nods, eyes glued to your lips as he licks his own, his wish clear. But before he can ask for another kiss, you choose instead to let go of him to grab something to clean him up with.

He never takes his eyes off you as you wipe his hands off and clean the cum off his body. And he still stares at you as you dispose of the rag and lay back down on the bed.

"What?" You ask, sharper than you intended and he flinches. So you try again, gentler this time. "Do you need something?"

He stares down at his hands as he speaks, wringing his fingers nervously. "Will you hold me to sleep?"

Your following silence prompts him to finally look up at you, and the wet, vulnerable look in his big brown eyes physically prevents you from rebuffing his request.

You sigh, throwing an arm out pointedly and he doesn't waste a second jumping forward and snuggling into your side.

__________________

That small action--Beomgyu having you hold him to sleep instead of the other way around–makes you realize something that should've been obvious to you from the start… unlike other men, and despite your worst fears, Beomgyu isn't looking to control or lead you.

He never did, from your sex life to what you do in your free time and even to public appearance, he lets you do as you please, only ever venturing to appeal to be included in it. You've even embarrassed him in public a couple of times before and yet he never lashed out against you in any way.

Other people were decidedly less kind though. You know they're gossipping about you. How you're a shame to other ladies and he's a disgrace to his family and the prince title. It gets to a point where you can't help but inquire about it to him, perplexed by his seeming indifference to what anyone else had to say.

"Does it not bother you?"

"What does?" He peeks an eye open to look at you from where he is laid down on the grass next to you, another successful hijacking of your time.

"What they say about you?" You spare him the details he knows all too well–that he's not a man, that he isn't fit to be a prince, that he's so weak and feeble even his wife rules him

"It does, of course. Everyone seeks to be accepted by others-be it friends, family, society, a lover…" He trails off tenderly, and you ignore the longing look he gives you. "But I have a loving family, supportive friends, and a secure life. I'd be a foolish man indeed to ignore all of that and spend my days trying to gain the approval of those who think ill of me." He says with a smile that suddenly and unexpectedly falls, "Why? Does it bother you? Me not being manly?"

"Would you change if it did?" You ask curiously and he frowns in thought before answering. "No, I want you to be happy with me, but I want to be happy too. I want us both to be happy."

"Why do you want me to be happy so badly?" You ask genuinely. It might be a stupid question to ask your husband but the sad reality is most husbands don't care much for their wives happiness.

"I believe a marriage should be built on respect and affection. Your spouse is meant to be your life partner, they’re there to witness it all, your everyday life, your ups and down, the mundane and the exciting. Why not try to make the best of those years? Why not be each other's rock when the world tears you down?" He espouses thoughtfully, a wiseness you never expected from him coming through, making him look mature and worldly. But then an innocent bashfulness takes over his face and he returns back to the boyish prince you’ve come to know. "And… I've always had a crush on you."

"Me?" You ask, surprised. You’ve met the prince many times before. You were hardly strangers before your marriage, but you wouldn’t have considered yourselves friends and certainly didn’t suspect that he held any romantic sentiment towards you. But you suppose that explains his existing partiality towards you despite your less than sweet reaction to the marriage.

"I have always loved how bold you were despite everyone trying to force you to fit the status quo. It gave me courage to be myself too. I thought if you could manage to act so decidedly outside of what is deemed proper for a lady and still remain the most radiant and exhilarating woman in the room, then maybe others could find beauty in me too."

You gape at him, at a loss for words. He finds the parts of you that are so repulsive to everyone else attractive? Is he messing with you? Is this some cruel joke? Or is he actually telling the truth?

You so badly want to believe him, but you can’t bring yourself to. It’s too good to be true.

"Did you ever… think of me that way?" He asks timidly, not daring to look at you, fearing your response, and for once, you feel saddened that you’re unable to give him the answer he’s looking for.

"No." You tell him honestly. You haven’t given him much thought before you got married. Sure, you could see that he was handsome, and he had always made himself known by his unusual behavior but other than that you hadn't really paid much attention to him, too caught up with your own troubles to pay any mind to his. You come to regret that now. At the very least, you might’ve made yourself a friend who would accept you for who you are. Or so he claims anyway.

"What about now?" His follow-up question is even more timid, whispered so quietly you almost didn't hear it. And you wish you didn’t because you don't have any answer for it.

"Let's not go there." You reply uncomfortably, getting up in order to physically remove yourself from the loaded question, refusing to consider that you might actually have developed any affection for him.

But Beomgyu quickly sits up and holds onto your hand. "No, please, don't leave. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He begs dolefully, which doesn't help your uneasiness in the slightest bit.

"It's fine." You lie to no one's benefit. "I just have things to do." You excuse yourself unconvincingly, taking your leave before he can fully articulate his next argument.

You hate seeing him so down, but what can you do when he insists on breaching this delicate topic again and again? You have no answer for him, you really don't. Why must he keep prodding?

____________________

"Is it time to go to bed yet?" Beomgyu whispers in your ear. He has been giving you needy looks the whole night, when he wasn't actively hanging onto your arm like he is right now.

It's the first day of your fertile period, and like you always do, you love to stay out as long as possible just to torment your poor husband. And lucky you, tonight there was just the perfect excuse to stay out even later–a ball hosted by the royal family and inviting noble and rich families from all over the kingdom.

"We're the hosts. It would be rude to leave this early." You tell him sharply as if you weren’t counting on him acting this very way, as if you’re not immensely enjoying it.

"But it's been hours." He whines and you feel him grind not-so-subtly against you.

"Are you seriously humping me in the open like this?" You ask incredulously, "Can't you control yourself?"

He shakes his head. "You know I can't." He tells you helplessly and you smile. Yes, you know very well. "I need it."

You chuckle. "Oh, you need it? What if I don't give it to you?"

He wails at the idea and a few heads turn towards you.

"Don't worry. He just hit his toe against the chair." You wave the curious and concerned glances off before turning towards Beomgyu with a sharp look. "Now look what you've done. Do you want everyone to know what a needy whore you are, my dear?"

"I don't care. Just need you." Throughout it all he hasn't quit pressing his bulge against your hip.

"That's too bad because we're staying for some time still. Now run off and talk to your father's guests and stop being such a rude host."

"But–"

You disentangle yourself from him despite his protests. "Go or you won't be getting fucked tonight." You threaten against his ear before pressing a quick kiss to the skin below, causing goosebumps to erupt in your wake.

You walk off with a big, self satisfied smile, your excitement building as you imagine how desperate he'll be once you actually take him back to bed. You wonder if you can get him to cum untouched. He has very sensitive nipples and you've always wondered if you can actually make him cum just by playing with them. You’re sure you can. Maybe tonight you'll try.

You’re so focused on what you have in store for your poor husband that you don't notice the two people approaching you.

"Oh darling, look how happy you look." You hear your mother's voice next to you and your mood immediately sours. You turn towards the pair with a scowl. "Hello, mother. Hello father."

"Hello, dear. How is my precious flower doing?" Your father asks, leaning forward to give you a kiss on each cheek that you don't reciprocate.

"Deflowered." You deadpan.

"Oh, come off it, baby. You know your father chose Prince Beomgyu because he was sure he would cherish you. That boy positively adores you." Your mother chastises, and you frown. Did your family seriously know of Beomgyu’s feelings towards you before you did? "And from what I'm hearing, he's doing just that. I mean even today, he can hardly leave your side for a minute."

You snort. If only she knew what was really going on... But to be fair, they weren't entirely wrong. Beomgyu does cherish you. That doesn't mean that you'll let them feel good about what they did.

"Your mother is right, love." Your father says gently but firmly, "We just wanted to ensure a good life for you with a man who adores you as much as we do. You are our only child and if you hadn’t gotten married, you would have been the object of many a wicked man's greed."

You roll your eyes at them. You could’ve handled yourself just fine. Not that they ever believed in you. "Whatever."

Are you being immature? Yes, but you’re still bitter about them not giving you a choice in the matter or even the man you were to marry, even if their choice turned out to be decent.

"Excuse me. I have to go find me dear husband." You give them a sour smile and turn you back on them. Their worried murmurs fade into the background noise as you step away from them and search for Beomgyu in the crowd, determined to go back to your room now.

When you spot him though, your mood takes an even more severe plunge. He's not alone, and the way he's entertaining the guest is way more intimate than you had instructed. The woman next to him is standing way too close to be proper, and she has one of her hands on his shoulder and the other one trailing down his chest.

Of course. Typical man behavior, as soon as you're out of sight he's wrapped up in some other woman’s arms. And here you thought he actually cared.

A dull pang starts out from the middle of your chest before it quickly spreads all across your ribcage in sharp stabs that take your breath away– a testament to the hurt you're feeling at this betrayal. He really got you fooled, huh?

You were contemplating whether to march off and slap the both of them silly or go back to your room, locking him out and crying your eyes out, when you hear his panicked voice floating into your full ears.

"I'm married!" He stammers, trying to wiggle out of the woman's hold on him but she just steps closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him.

A rage like no other fills up your body at the sight, searing off the wounds that were just covering it from the perceived betrayal, but you force yourself to stand still and watch how this will play out.

"So? All princes take mistresses. I hear she's not even letting you fuck her. What a heartless bitch."

That’s it! You make a move to step forward and smack her filthy hands off your husband, but he does it himself, throwing her hands off him angrily.

"Don't you dare speak about her that way." He shouts, furious in a way you've never seen him before. "She is my wife and I love her. She satisfies me much better than you could ever hope to do. I want no one else but her so kindly fuck off before you embarass yourself any further."

You freeze. Beomgyu loves you?

Yes, you knew he liked you and he was never shy about expressing it, but love?

It's at this moment, while you're rooted to your spot in shock, that Beomgyu finally sees you. A big smile replaces his affronted expression as he calls out to you. "Oh, darling there you are!"

But then he notices the look on your face and his own expression pales, his eyes jumping between you and the woman who is still standing next to him. "It's not what you think. I told her to back off, I swear."

Oh, he must think you're upset because of her. Well, you were but not at him. Not after he proved himself right in front of you. Still, this is a good distraction. It's better that he thinks that. You can't discuss the other thing now. You can’t even process it yet.

You quickly compose yourself and walk up to them, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a sweet kiss on his lips. "I saw." You smile at him before turning your withering gaze towards the woman. "You heard him. Fuck off and go find another man to lay under."

The woman scoffs and walks off, shouldering you as she goes, but you don't care. You turn back to Beomgyu, and whisper cryptically to him. "I want to speak to you, dear. In private."

His eyes widened in fear. "Darling, I'm sorry–I really tried–"

"Let's go." You snap, pulling him after you into the garden.

You choose a place deep enough into the garden you're sure no one will see you before you push him against a tree.

"You just attract them, don't you?" You raise an eyebrow at him, pressing your thigh between his legs. "Standing out there looking all needy and pretty."

"I told her to go away." He cowers pitifully, but he’s already rutting his cock against your thigh.

"But she just wouldn’t, huh?" You ask with mock sympathy, "You're just a helpless slut aren't you? Need me to be around you all the time to keep you in place?"

"No." He whines, shaking his head roughly. "I can behave. I can be good."

You spit on your hand and put it down his pants, stroking his cock and making him keen and melt into your touch. "Look how easily you give in." You tsk, "How long would you have held out if she did that?"

Beomgyu shakes his head again, tears brimming his pretty eyes. "Never would've given in. Only yours."

"Aw, how cute. This cock is only for me?" You murmur against his lips, palming the head of his cock and feeling his precum already leaking and wetting your hand.

"Everything. I'm all yours." He confesses, his eyes conveying an affection so strong, you can't weather it. You take your hand out of his pants and flip the both of you around so you're the one pressed against the tree. "Fuck me."

"Here?!" He gapes.

"Yes. Want you here."

"But anyone can see." He looks around as if searching for those phantom voyeurs.

"Didn’t you say you’re all mine? Show them." You press your lips against his, coaxing him into giving in with sweet kisses that he craves.

“Honey…” He whines, but you wrap one leg around his waist and pull him against you, his body reacting on its down and his hips bucking against you, his cock searching for your warmth that you’ve kept away from him for so long.

You ignore his half-hearted protest, pulling his cock out of his pants and lifting the skirt of your dress up so he can feel you directly. His breath leaves him when he feels his cock glide against your wet pussy. “Oh… you’re not wearing anything underneath.”

“Uh-huh.” You nod, biting your lip and looking at him seductively. “Wanted to be all ready for you to take me. Didn’t know you’d be entertaining other women.”

You’re really dragging out this other woman farce, partly because it’s fun watching him scramble to deny it and appease you, and partly because you feel entitled to him as your husband. You’re not going to be the woman forced to marry a man, only for him to cheat on her too.

But still, you can’t deny the jealousy and hurt you felt seeing him with someone else after he’s spent the last few months professing his affection to you and forcing his way into your life. He said it’s only you he wants, right? Well, you want him to act like it, damned by the reasons behind your unwelcome feelings.

Beomgyu’s eyes widen in horror and he finally presses forward, pushing his cock into you in one needy thrust. “No! Was only thinking about this pussy. I promise.” He wails in earnest, “Only want you.”

His words are like a balm to your wounded ego, and you reward him with a messy, open-mouthed kiss–the kind you know gets him all riled up. “Then fuck me like it.”

“Yes, darling.” He holds up the leg you have wrapped around him with one hand and uses the other to grab your waist and press you flush against the tree, stabilizing you so he can drill his cock into you, an urgency to his movements that tops even your previous encounters.

“Good boy.” You pant, feeling his cock hitting places deep inside you that have your toes curling. "Is this what you wanted all month?"

"Yes, baby. Been thinking of it every night, wished you would just flip over onto your tummy and let me fuck you."

You grin evilly. “I know, baby. I felt that hard cock against me every night. Loved to wake up with it pressed right between my asscheeks.”

“You’re so cruel.” He mewls, fucking into you desperately, making up for all the torture you put him through.

“I know.” You laugh, trailing your hands up his body to play with his sensitive nipples, and when your thumbs brush over them, his hips stutter and he rewards you with the most debauched moans.

“Fuck, don’t do that or I’ll cum.”

“But I want you to cum.” You retort, pulling lightly on his hardened nipples and causing his hips to give a particularly harsh thrust. "Cum inside me. Knock me up. Let them all know who you belong to."

Your words drive him crazy, and soon he’s fucking into you like a wild animal. "Fuck, you’re going so rough. Were you that needy?"

“Yes.” There is no shame in his reply, just pure want. He's not shy about letting his need for you show, his mouth wide open, panting heavily, and eyes glazed over as his hips slam against yours. "Thank you. Thank you for letting me inside your pretty pussy."

Just his face brings you close to the edge, and his wild thrusts threaten to push you over at any moment.

"Look how slutty you look." You tease, cupping his face. "Are you all pussy-drunk, my dear?"

He nods, leaning into your touch and only managing a few garbled moans in response.

"That's okay, pup. All I need from you is your pretty cock. You don't need to have any thoughts in that pretty head of yours. Just keep fucking me like a good boy."

He nods again, enraptured, and his blind obedience finally sends you over the edge.

“Fuck–fuck–good boy… good boy.” You moan out, the praise coming out long and slow as your body tenses up before spasming, your pussy milking his cock and drawing his own orgasm out of him.

Beomgyu buries his face into your neck, letting out choked moans that later turn into heavy pants as his high crashes through his body. But even when his breathing settles down, he is reluctant to pull away from you.

“Beomgyu?” You call out. He lets out a small hum and nuzzles further into your skin, mumbling something that you can’t quite hear.

“We need to go.” You start again, the leg he’s still holding up starting to cramp while the cool air bites at it, and he whines. “But this feels too nice.”

You smirk. “What does? Your cock all warm and snug inside my pussy?”

You feel his cock twitch inside you and he nods. “Yeah. Also this.” He says, running kisses up your neck that makes you shiver. “You never let me do this much.”

You know. You only allow these intimate moments after sex, not wanting a repeat of what happened before, but also needing to limit them to protect yourself. Which is exactly why you want him to pull away now.

“We have to go.” You repeat, jostling him a little bit, feeling your heart picking up at the precarious moment. You feel him sigh against your skin, and he finally pulls back. “Okay. Let's go to bed.”

“Oh, we’re not going to bed. We’re rejoining the ball.” You say nonchalantly, holding back your laugh at the way he gapes at you once again.

"But–but…." He stammers, his eyes raking over your body.

"But your cum is dripping down my legs? I know." You smirk evilly, pulling him behind you.

___________________

You and Beomgyu are stuck in a limbo of your own making, unable to let him in fully but also unwilling to shut the door in his face, stubbornly thinking that this way you’ll be saving yourself from any heartache. But can you really make that claim anymore when seeing him hurt himself over you wounds you just as much?

That is the precise situation you find yourself in right now, running towards one of the rooms you’ve just been informed that Beomgyu and your previous suitor, Yeonjun, are dueling within.

You expect this foolishness from Yeonjun. He has always been brash and hard-headed, always reaching for his sword when his words meet resistance. But Beomgyu? Has that idiot ever even been in a duel before?

Your heart hammers in your chest as you run, images of Beomgyu struck down and bleeding coming unbidden to your mind. Fuck, if that idiot got himself hurt over some inane dick-measuring contest, you’re going to kill him yourself.

When you gain entrance into the room and peek Beomgyu’s fallen form through the gaps in the crowd that formed around the two men, your heart falls to your feet and you get ready to grab Beomgyu’s sword and strike down Yeonjun yourself.

But then you hear Yeonjun speak to him. “Come on, get up. Be a man.”

After which a member of the crowd comments snarkily, “You’ve got the wrong person. If you want a fight then you need to look for his wife. She wears his balls around her neck.”

You see red as you shove your way through the crowd and into the clearing in the middle. “Who said that?” You growl, surveying the crowd. No one speaks, and you laugh hauntingly. “Come on, show me how much of a man you really are. Surely, you’re not afraid of me, a woman?”

Again, no one speaks up, and you scoff. “Of course, you are all a bunch of cowards who like to bully good people in order to feel better about your own vile, miserable selves.”

“Hey, don’t speak to my men like that.” Yeonjun interjects and you shoot him a withering look. “What men? All I see are a bunch of dogs sniffing up their master’s ass.”

At the insult, one of the men steps forward threateningly, but Yeonjun holds him back.

“What? Are you going to hit a woman?” You challenge and he spits. “What woman? All I see is a rabid bitch.”

No sooner had the man spoken than he was on the floor, felled by a punch from Yeonjun. “Don’t you dare speak to a lady like that.”

The man looks furious but he holds his tongue, not daring to defy his master, choosing instead to get up and storm out. A few other men follow suit but Yeonjun ignores them, turning towards you, “I’m sorry about that, my lady. Please accept–”

“I will accept nothing. What gave you the right to come here and attack my husband?” You growl at him, walking towards Beomgyu and helping him off the floor. But Beomgyu doesn’t even glance at you, keeping his gaze on the floor and making you feel uneasy.

“I wanted to see what you left me for.” He mutters bitterly, as if you had been together and you had left him to be with Beomgyu. He’s so fucking delusional.

Yeonjun and you used to be childhood friends, and you suppose he assumed on the basis of that and by merit of him being the son of one of the most wealthy and influential men in the whole country, that you’d fawn at his feet and accept his hand when he proposed to you.

But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. You liked Yeonjun well enough as children, but as you grew up he turned into a controlling asshole who tried to tell you what you can and cannot do, already acting as if you were his woman, something which you despised and have expressed so to him repeatedly. You don’t know how he could possibly have thought that you’d actually accept his hand in marriage but his scandalized reaction served to cement your decision even more.

“I didn’t leave you for anyone. If you were the last man on earth, I still wouldn’t have picked you.”

Yeonjun’s face grows pale at the harsh proclamation, but you don’t stay back to wait for his response, barking at one of the servants to help you take their prince back to his bed.

______________________________________

But Beomgyu’s weird behavior persists even when you’re alone, and when you attempt to tend to his injuries, he withdraws from you harshly.

"Why are you doing this? Am I so pathetic that even you feel sorry for me?" He hisses in disgust.

"What has gotten into you?" You snap back, not willing to take shit from him too.

"You want someone like him, don't you?” He accuses bitterly, and when you give him a confused look he continues. “Don’t deny it. You were childhood sweethearts. He told me you were set to be married before your parents forced you to marry a sissy like me."

"And you believed him?" You balk and he scoffs, looking away. "Then you’re even more of an idiot than I thought you were."

His head snaps back to stare at you, eyes glistening with tears. “You think I’m an idiot?”

That’s what he focuses on? “Of course. You must be if you honestly think that I ever even entertained marrying that sexist, disgusting, pompous asshole."

“Then why did he say that?” He asks in a small voice and you yell out in frustration, “Because he can’t fathom how I can be happy with you and not him when everyone around him licks the ground he walks on.”

“You-you’re happy with me?” He peers up at you through his wet lashes and your heart hurls itself against your ribcage at the hope you see in his eyes.

"Yes, I am.” You admit, and watch as the bright rays of happiness start to shine across his face, before they’re covered by another gloomy cloud. He shakes his head. “You just want someone weak to control. That’s why you like it with me.”

You grab his face, a little rougher that you probably should but he was really pissing you off. “No, I want a man who is secure in his manhood that he doesn’t need to engage in these stupid dick measuring contests to feel good about himself. I want a man who is secure enough in himself that no matter how much I challenge him, he never lashes out at me for it. I want a man who even though I’ve been nothing but a bitch to him again and again, he still stuck by me because he saw the good in me when everyone else saw fault. I want you.”

Beomgyu shoots forward, meeting your lips with his in a passionate kiss that you gladly reciprocate. He has been so brave for you. You can learn to be brave for him too.

“I love you.” He professes when the need for air forces him to pull away.

You cup his cheeks gently, staring into his kind eyes and hoping he’d be kind to you one more time, even if you don’t deserve it. “Just give me some time, okay? I promise I’ll get there if you give me a little more time.”

That feeling of dread you get when you rebuff one of his advances and sit in fear of him finally getting sick enough of you to stop trying bubbles in your stomach as you wait for his response. But Beomgyu is even more merciful than you had ever dreamed of and his gentle smile washes away all your fear.

“I will wait for as long as you need me to. I will never give up on you. I just needed to know that you wanted it too.”

“I do. I really do. I want you.” Tears flow down your face unbidden and you let yourself be pulled into his warm embrace.

This is what you could have if you could just learn to trust him–to really let yourself be cared for and loved without constantly being on the lookout for an inevitable betrayal. He can give you that. You know he can, and maybe with time, you too can give him everything he deserves.

_____________________________

A/N: well there you go. honestly it came out a lot different than i had anticipated and a lot shorter, but i hope you still like it anyway. let me know which prince gyu is your favorite, yamqn pyscho prince gyu or sweet playful love you prince gyu?

if you can guess why the title is that, you get a treat.

#didorecs #WOULD I BE EXAGGERATING IF I SAY THIS MIGHT BE MY FAV THING EVER #dialogues are just so natural and good #and the story...#y/n is literally me #i will not be able to get over this #just amazing #no flaws #i am not kidding #beomgyu losing game on purpose and the jealous y/n scenes were my favorite #i see no problem in misandry(is that how you spell it?)#I JUST LOVE IT YOU DON'T GET IT #ALSO MY BREEDING KINK OBSESSION #AH SO GOOD #PLEASE I WILL READ IT AGAIN WHEN I AM NOT IN MY MUSSY BRAIN MODE #GOD THIS WAS REALLY GOOD

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clarionglass · 6 months ago

Text

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

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sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine?

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait!

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him.

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs.

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look.

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace.

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign.

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm.

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity.

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor.

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief.

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling.

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!”

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him.

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage.

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps.

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break.

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope.

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still.

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall.

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed.

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw.

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

#game master #sam reich!master #doctor who #dw #dropout #game changer #you know what let's chuck some character tags in here #15th doctor #the master #sam reich #brennan lee mulligan #grant o'brien #kaylin mahoney #clari speaks #clari writes #ah darlings i'm putting my chat down here rather than in the post body for once #so i've thought of this whole saga as 'part three' but i will be a) titling them all and b) just keeping on numbering the parts sequentiall #rather than 'part three part one' etc #otherwise we're getting into homestuck act titling territory and that is ground i do not wish to tread #also fuck i hope i've got the time zones right #i'm planning to post this when an episode of game changer would ordinarily be released. to plug the gap. to tide us over.#(the finale trailer is so delightfully unhinged and i cannot wait til next week)#anyway gang this one was wild #the slight but significant genre shift from 'game changer with doctor who elements' to 'doctor who with game changer elements'#it was fun to write! and hopefully fun to read :)#also i MUST say that eugene northernfireart has a baller comic in the works that this entire thing is based on #this is thousands of words of setup and continuation because the sketch idea was so good it possessed me #and we decided that it had to be a proper dw episode #(hey rtd hire me pls)#anyway eugene is on hiatus bc of life so in the meantime go give him love and be Fuckin Hyped for the comic when it appears bc i know i am

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