#Wealthy ladies looking for love

[becausewearebadmemories]

What is it about Attractive Rich Women?

Some guys think that rich women are hot as hell. There is something so sexy about the power of many of these ladies with money. Whether they got their money from their parents, or their husbands or they are very successful, there is something about an “easy” life that makes being with these ladies a fantasy for many. So many guys think that wealthy women are just out of their league. It feels…

[noonecareslol]

𒀯𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚

Anaxiphilia: love for or attraction to unsuitable mates; an act of falling in love with the wrong person

Hwang In-Ho x Fem! Reader

wc! 7k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After you move away from your childhood best friend (and first love), the last place you expected to see him was stuck with you as a “player”.

TW: Violence (duh its squid game), cursing, smut 18+ pnv, unsafe sex, probably pregnant lol

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Classical music filled your ears as your eyes adjusted to the bright lights. It played throughout the room as you woke slowly and attempted to make sense of your surroundings. But, as you looked at the number placed on your tracksuit you remembered where you were.

Or at least why you were there.

You were never uncomfortable growing up. You were actually quite wealthy. Your father owned a very successful company, your mother invested money intuitively, and life seemed to improve daily. That was until you were 17 and news broke that your father’s company was a front. A money laundering business that cleaned his filthy money from years and years of fraud. When they died, they left you a monumental amount of debt. And when a suspiciously attractive guy handed you a little brown card, you couldn’t help but call the number on the back.

You knew the games were too good to be true. And you realized you were right after the first one. It took you 30 minutes to wash the blood off your face and out of your hair.

Now you were standing next to a girl with the number “222” written on her tracksuit, watching as an older lady and her son begged the guards to let them go. You fiddled with your hands, flinching at the rawness after scrubbing them relentlessly. Your attention was grabbed when another person stepped through the crowd.

“Clause three of the consent form!” Your eyes trained on him as he spoke angrily, “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote.”

Your heart stopped. You could go home and be safe. But you would still be drowning in debt. You bit your lip, remembering about the share of money you would receive. Would you have enough to cover it?

As if the guards could read your mind, a large piggy bank lowered from the ceiling, “The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91. Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated.” Every eye watched as the piggy bank began to fill, “If you quit the games now, the 365 of you can equally divide the 9.1 billion won and leave with your share.”

Another man shoves past the crowd, “And how much is that?”

“Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won.”

Exasperated sighs and annoyed words broke out amongst the crowd. But your eyes stayed trained on the man who first spoke, “456” written on his chest.

The pink guard spoke loudly, “The rule is that a hundred million won will be accumulated for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

The crowd stayed silent, “The total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won.”

The crowd erupted again, full of enthusiastic words and motivated cheers. The girl next to you placed her hands over her stomach, almost cradling it closer to her body.

If you went home now, you wouldn’t even have enough to cover a third of your debt. But if you stay and continue the games, you could die.

The doors opened and two guards wheeled out a metal podium with two buttons, a red X and a blue O. “Now, let’s begin the vote. If you wish to continue the games, press the O button. If you wish to end them, press the X button. The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers.”

“Player 456.”

The same man from before stepped forward without hesitation. As he walked to the podium his stride was filled with wrath and as he slammed his palm against the X, his eye contact didn’t break with the guard.

The voting continued, each person stepping forward to decide whether to live or die. Each time either button was pressed you silently celebrated, still not sure if you should stay or go.

“Player number two.”

Your face fell as your eyes centered on the podium. And with each slow step you took, you became more sure of your decision. And as you reached the podium, you had made up your mind entirely.

A high beep rang through the room as your face reflected the blue button. You decided to continue. Flinching at the sound of defeated sighs from behind, you took the patch embroidered with an O and joined the other voters.

“Player number one.”

You hadn’t cared to look at the man when he was standing next to you earlier. But now that he was about to break a tie, your eyes were locked on him. You didn’t catch his face but you studied his figure. He had a tall frame and dark brown hair that seemed to be styled perfectly. He walked with a thick sense of confidence and you hadn’t failed to notice how his tracksuit clung to his biceps.

You watched intensely as he lifted his hand and hovered between the two buttons. The room held suspension and your eyes were locked on his hand. He hesitated for a few more moments before pressing his hand down. Blue light illuminated his face and the surrounding crowd cheered as he walked from the podium.

He had selected to stay. To play another game where you, or him, could die. You voted for that too. So why aren’t you happy about winning?

Because he’s turned around now and you’ve seen his face. And you would recognize that face anywhere.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“I don't understand, you’re moving?” He grasped the sides of your face, afraid to let go.

You looked at the boy in front of you who’ve you known your whole life. You went to private schools together, fancy parties together, and you shared your first time together. And now you’re leaving.

You placed your hands over his, “I don’t understand either In-ho. I want to stay, I don’t want to leave you.” Tears fell down your rosy cheeks as In-ho placed his forehead gently against yours.

You ignored your mother’s frantic yells for you to come and pack your things. You didn’t want to leave him. You loved him, and you knew if you left now you wouldn’t just be leaving your house. You’d be leaving your life behind. Your father would be arrested and your mother would have to work while taking care of you herself. You would move from Gangnam to Daegu. And you would have to start a new life. You just didn’t understand why In-ho couldn’t be a part of it.

That was the last time you saw him.

Well, until now.

You kept your distance, watching him talk to player 456. You recognize him from before as the man who’s already played.

You observed intensely, not bothering with your food. You watched how he exchanged words with 456. How his hair moved slightly as he used his hands to talk. You didn’t understand why he was here. The last you heard about him, he was married and his wife was expecting.

Would could’ve gone so wrong for him to be here?

The girl next to you shuffled in her seat, setting her empty dosirak-tong on the ground. You knew she was pregnant just from how she walked uncomfortably with her hands supporting her back.

“Here, take mine. I don’t like dosirak.” It was a lie, dosirak is one of your favorite meals. But she was eating for two, and you didn’t have an appetite.

She looked up at you before gently taking the metal box from your hands, “Thank you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and you smiled in return.

Your eyes searched for In-ho again to find him walking towards a fight you hadn't noticed had broken out. His frame was large and towered over the boys as he approached them, “Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime There are elders present, mind your manners. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“You’re lecturing me when you ended up in this shithole too?” In-ho’s jaw clenched as he tilted his head at the boy, “Dude, stop running your mouth and take care of your own damn kids.”

You knew where this was heading, In-ho always knew how to fight. You smirked as he grabbed the boy, turning him around and twisting his arm behind him.

Forcing him to the ground with a thud as he whined, “Wait! I’m sorry! Please, let me go!”

He let go of his arm and stood up straight, adjusting his tracksuit. As he looked around the room while walking back toward player 456, his eyes suddenly met with yours. And he froze as he scanned your face. He was so caught up in Gi-huns plan that he had failed to realize you had entered the game. The girl he fell in love with. Who he shared his first kiss with, who he has thought about every day for 20 years since you were 17.

Your heart ached as old feelings rushed over you, watching as his eyes softened slightly before player 390 dragged him over.

You couldn’t sleep that night. You were too busy trying to figure out why he was here. Plus, you caught word of the next game being Dalgona. Which worried you because you had always sucked at cutting out the tiny shape, always giving in and eating the cookie whole.

You spent the night staring tiredly at the piggy bank, the soft yellow light casting across your face. What you didn't know is that 50 feet away, In-ho watched you. His mind also trying to understand why you were here. He stared at you, his eyes tracing the curve of your jaw, remembering when he would trail kisses on your pretty little face.

When he met your eyes earlier, he froze. Not because he didn't expect to see you, which he didn't, he froze because his heart did. He marveled at your beauty, and you took his breath away. Just like the first time he saw you all those years ago.

And now as he lays in his bed, his pillow propped up on the opposite end so he can see you, he can't help but address the elephant in the room. You know his name. You know his identity. You could ruin everything, his plan that he had focused solely on for the past three years.

As the lights turned on and classical music rang out from the speakers, his eyes stayed on you and only you.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"Welcome to your second game. This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of six in the next ten minutes. Let me repeat."

Sand kicked behind you as you walked into the room. The speakers repeated the instructions as you whispered to the girl next to you, "Is Dalgona played in teams?" She shook her head and her hand caressed her belly. You've grown somewhat protective over the girl, whose name you learned is Kim Jun-hee.

You take her hand as you look to find a team and your eyes try to pick out In-ho from the crowd. You think you spot the back of his head and start to pull Jun-hee towards him when she makes a be-line to a group. Your protests go ignored as she reaches them. Your eyes still search for In-ho as she inquires about joining their group.

"Of course, you can join." The voice snaps you from your search as you meet familiar piercing brown eyes with your own. Your breath hitches in your throat as he doesn't break eye contact.

"Time for team selection is up." The PA system breaks your stare, but In-ho holds his. You look around the room, scanning over the tall blue walls and the rainbows painted on the floor, "The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each member will take turns playing a minigame at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. Here are the minigames: Number one, the Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gonggi. Number four, Kendama. Number five, Spinning Top. Number six, Jegi. Your goal is to win all the minigames and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide on players for each minigame."

Your team divides the games between you. You get stuck with Kendama, a game that is played by tossing a ball into the air and attempting to catch it on a wooden stick point. You're fairly confident in yourself. You and In-ho grew up playing games like these.

You sit with your group as each team competes. You sat at the end next to Jun-Hee, checking on her every once and a while. You flinched every time a gunshot rang out, anxiety bubbling with every elimination.

In-ho could not stop looking at you. It was as if you had a magnetic pull, and he couldn't look away. You were a piece of art, crafted with the hands of God himself. And he was jealous of God's hands, wishing it had been his very own that created such beauty. Every time you looked his way, he looked elsewhere.

"Final two teams, please get ready." You help Jun-hee stand up, 390 stepping in place next to her. Standing on the other side of 388 as you all line up at the start. You lower your gaze as In-ho steps in line next to you. He's always been intimidating, especially with his large frame towering over yours.

390 chuckles, "It's weird to be the only ones who don't get an audience, isn't it?" His attempt to lighten the mood works a little, a small smile forming on your lips.

"I think it will help us focus more!" You rub 388's shoulder in comfort while he repeats the motions of throwing and catching the Gonggi.

The guard finishes locking In-ho's and 456's shackles before you feel an arm snake around yours. In-ho's bicep compresses your own as your face heats up. You glance up daringly meeting In-hos sharp gaze. You should say something. Anything. Ask him why he's here, or where his wife is. But before you can speak, 456 starts the chant and steps forward.

"Hana dul! Hana dul! Hana dul!" You chant as you approach the first game. Jun-hee slams the red ddakji down, successfully flipping the blue one on the first try.

As you chant and walk to the next game, 388 breaks the pace and steps forward quickly. Without hesitation In-ho's hand moves from your arm to your waist, effortlessly steadying you "Hey! Keep the pace!"

388 steps back into pace as we reach the next game, "Back when I used to pitch, I never threw very fast, but the ball always went where I wanted." 390 steps one foot back before aiming and throwing the stone precisely, hitting the target on the first try!

You all cheer before continuing forward, quickly approaching three minutes. As you sit on the ground you feel In-ho steadying you again, allowing you to lean slightly against him to give 388 more room to play his game.

"Okay, just take your time. You got this." I reassure 388 as he grabs the gonggi. With a quick hand, he tosses one in the air before collecting them one at a time. Then two at a time, Then three and one. Then all. He flips them on the back of his hand before catching them effortlessly.

Your cheers were quick as you stood up and rushed towards the fourth game. The guard hands you the Kendama and you can feel In-ho's gaze on you intensely. You held the Kendama out in front of you, tossing the ball up, quickly moving your hand to catch it. You close your eyes as you feel the ball land on the spike.

"Yes! You did it Y/N!" In-ho grabs your shoulders and shakes you, you shake his back as he beams a smile at you. And for a second, you forget about the timer and you're both 17 again, in love.

He wraps his arm around your waist again as you move to his game. He takes the spinning top in his hand and begins to wrap the rope around it, confidence radiating from him. We have this in the bag! -oh.

The rope fell off.

You feel his body tighten as stress began to build. He wraps the rope around once more before tossing it, praying that the top spins. It falls to its side and In-ho curses under his breath. You remember him using his left hand when growing up to play this game. You wondered why he was using his right, but you didn't ask him. You could tell he was getting annoyed at himself.

"It's okay! Just try again!" You let go of In-ho's arm to give him more room. He flings the spinning top with too much power and it flings backwards.

In-ho freezes, too embarrassed to move. The man next to him, 456, grabs his shoulder firmly, "It's okay, we'll get it. All right, backwards. Ready, set."

In-ho holds my waist tightly as we walk backwards in step, "It'd be boring to win everything fast." The group nods in agreement at 390's words, " 'Cause if you're ever gonna grow, you need to fail first, right?"

In-ho picks up the spinning top and we trek back to the line. He wraps the rope around successfully, "Okay now take it slow, wait- no don't rush it!"

In-ho interrupted 388's instructions by quickly, and messily, throwing the top. It falls to the side and you feel In-ho throw his head back and laugh. You quickly remove your hand from his waist, knowing what's about to happen.

"You piece of fucking shit! You ruin everything! You're worthless!" In-ho drops the piece of rope in his hand as he hits his head against his hands. "You're so pathetic!"

The group stands shocked as he hits himself angrily, stomping in the dried blood below him. You bend down and pick up the rope, glancing at the clock.

50 seconds.

"Hey!" You slam the rope against his chest and pull his face to look at you, "No one's blaming any of this on you! Now, take a deep breath, okay?"

In-ho nodded slowly, the feeling of your touch burning on his face as he placed his right hand over his chest, something he would do when you were younger. As the group shuffles to pick up the top, you place one of your hands over his and slow his breathing, "You can do this In-ho. Use your left hand like you did when we were kids. And if I die because of this I will kill you myself."

In-ho gave a small smile at your sarcasm as he wraps the rope around the axel, then the top. He places it in his left hand and looks at you quickly before throwing the top.

It spins.

You erupt in cheers as In-ho succeeds! He gives a quick hug to you, that you wished had lasted longer, and your group moves to 456's turn. In-ho's gaze darkened as he focused on 456, and you failed to notice it, still flustered from the quick hug.

"One! Two! Three! Four!" You all counted as 456 bounced the jegi on his foot, watching him and the clock as it counts down. For a split moment it seemed that he wouldn't be able to get the last hit in, but suddenly In-ho swoops in and reaches with his foot. "Five!"

You all cheer as you practically run to the end, crossing right as the timer hit zero. The heavy shackles get removed and you are immediately engulfed in a bear hug from In-ho. His arms wrap around the small of your back as he pulls you closer to his frame, if possible. He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you stay frozen. Not from the near- death- experience you just had, but because you realized you had forgotten what his hugs had felt like. You threw your arms around him in return, deepening the hug you have longed for every day for 20 years.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You sat closely next to In-ho as the group chatted and complemented each others moves from the game. You were looking forward to catching up with In-ho, but you were too engrossed in 388's retelling of 390's stone toss, "And, sir, you were incredible at Flying Stone!" He proudly stood up and pretended to throw a stone, "You just lined it up and... Boom! First try!"

You giggled as 390 proudly shaked his head, and In-ho turned to look at you. God, that laugh. He had forgotten what it sounded like, and he frowned when you stopped, "I was thinking, what if we go around and say what our real names are? I'll go first, my name is Kang Dae-ho. Dae as in 'huge' and ho as in 'tiger'!"

390 laughed as Dae-ho gave himself tiger fangs with his fingers, "Now that's a cool name. My name is Park Jung-bae. It means 'righteous' and 'double.' So, I should be living twice as righteously."

"My name is Kim Jun-hee. I don't think I know what it stands for." Jun-hee smiles as she pushes a stray hair from her face.

"Jun means 'talented' and hee means 'star'. You are a talented star Jun-hee!" You ruffle her hair as she beams at you, "My name is Y/N. L/N, Y/N."

You can feel In-ho's stare as he watches your lips move, "My name is Young-il. You know, like 'yeong il.' 'Zero one' in Korean." You whipped your head towards him. Was there a reason he was hiding his name? Did he not trust anyone? He gave you a reassuring look, you'd just ask him later.

"My full name is Seong Gi-Hun." You looked away from In-ho's gaze as you watched 456 introduce himself.

"Seong Gi-hun. Like our un-'Seong' hero?" Everyone laughed but you. You were still pondering about In-ho. There were so many unanswered questions running through your mind. In-ho must have noticed your distant look, because he gave your hand a squeeze. A promise that he'll explain everything.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After another failed vote to go home (you had voted to leave this time), Gi-hun warned about the possibility of an ambush. It plagued your mind with worry as you laid on your mattress. Another night of no sleep adding to the eyebags growing under your pretty E/C eyes.

Gi-hun stood from his watch as In-ho took over, and headed to bed. Now was your chance to fully reconnect with In-ho, "Can I sit here?"

In-ho turned to you, "Cant sleep?" He asked as he scooted over a tad, making room for you. He didn't make a whole lot of room though, which you didn't mind.

Your thighs touched as you sat next to him, "No, never could when my mind is running like this." You dusted off your pants as you placed your legs out in front of you, fingers avoiding the blood that plagued your bottoms.

"You shouldn't be anxious about the game tomorrow." He watched your face intently, trying to read you. You were always so easy to read.

You stifle a small laugh, "Oh i'm not anxious, 'Young-il'. " You tilted your head towards him as you dragged out his "name", smirking as he nodded defeatedly.

"Ohhh, okay." He leaned in close, making your heart flutter, "I just don't want anyone to know my name yet. In a game like this there's a lot of... betrayal."

Your spine shivered as his words tickled your ear, "Oh, I guess I didn't think about that..." You turned to look at him but failed to realize how close he was.

Your lips were now inches apart, barely. You could feel his breath fan across your lips and his eyes remained focused on yours, "It can be our little secret? Hmm?" You found yourself nodding before you could even process what he said.

You didn't move, instead, you tested the waters. You leaned in closer, tilting your head slightly, "Last I heard you were married?"

He shook his head no, not caring to explain as he quickly licked his lips, his eyes now focusing on your own. Your breath caught as your heart beat at an unearthly rate, he was so close. If either of you moved your head even a centimeter, his lips would be on yours.

But you weren't able to find out. The small metal door slammed as Jun-hee, Hyun-ju, and Ae-sim walked in, and you pulled back quickly. "I should try and sleep."

In-ho nodded as you walked away, his eyes trailed the curve of your ass and he adjusted his pants slightly before going back to his watch.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"Players, welcome to the third game. We will begin momentarily. The game you will be playing today is Mingle." The beady-eyed horses caught your attention first. The black, soulless, painted eyes boring into your own as you followed behind In-ho. "I will now explain the rules of the game. All players will step onto the platform in the center of the arena. Once the game begins, the platform will spin. Shortly after, a number will be called out. You must then form a group that matches this number, enter one of the surrounding rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds, or be eliminated."

You stopped in front of the red platform, In-ho stopped next to you, "The real crucial thing for us to do is to stay calm and don't panic. Trust each other. And we'll all get out of here in once piece." He looked down at you, a need to protect you suddenly clear, "Deal?"

You looked up at him, "Deal." And he took your hand as you both stepped on the platform.

"With that, let the game begin!" The woman over the PA system was replaced with a nursery song, "Round And Round". The platform jolted before starting its spin, and you grasp onto In-ho for support as he steadies you.

"Ten."

The lights were replaced with flashing red as In-ho pulled you close. Gi-hun grabbed a group of 3 people as you searched for an open door, "Room 44!" You pointed to the light green door before dragging In-ho and Dae-ho with you. Hyun- ju grabbed a stray woman while running through the green door, barely making it.

In-ho placed his hands on the sides of your arms firmly, "Are you okay?"

"Yes." You breathed out, trying to catch your breath.

He took one hand and cupped your face, "Just stick with me. You'll be okay." You nod as the door unlocks and he grabs your hand, leading you back to the platform.

You spin for another few agonizing seconds with your hand still firmly grasped in In-ho's. "Five."

Your face fell, there were six of you. Who was going to leave? In-ho quickly pushes you into Jung-bae's grasp, "Watch her, i'll go! Hurry!" In-ho takes one more glance towards you as he runs through the crowd.

Jung-bae drags you with the others as you call for In-ho, "Young- il! Young-il!" The door locks behind you and you break from Jung-bae's hold.

"Im sure hes okay. He's smart Y/N." You press your face to the door, peering out of the small window, searching for his tall frame. You know he's smart, but you were so scared of losing him again you couldn't even register the other players getting shot in front of your door.

It unlocks and you push it open, rushing out and onto the platform. You whip your head around as you scanned for In-ho. When you lock eyes with his brown ones you make a beeline towards him, pushing past other players as you jump into his arms, "What ever happened to, "Stick with me"?"

His hand wrapped protectively behind your neck, cradling you in his arms, "I know, im sorry. But i'm okay." He pulled your head away to look at him, a small smile resting on his face.

The platform began to spin as you and In-ho stood next to Jun-hee, "Attention, players. The final round will now begin." The God forsaken nursery rhyme plays again, and this time, your eyes were glued to In-ho.

"What do you think the number will be?" Jun-hee asked curiously while clinging onto Dae-ho.

"It will be two." In-ho looked towards her.

"Wait, why?"

He squeezes your hand, "We're at 126 people, and there are 50 rooms. Even if there's two in every room, then there's still only enough for 100 of us. If you don't find one fast, you're done for."

The platform comes to a halt. "Two." The lights flash again and In-ho pulls you on instinct, running to a yellow door.

In-ho was going to keep you safe, at any cost.

You look back towards the group for a split second when your body meets the ground, you look up in slow motion as the man who pushed you runs to the door. You took a staggered breath before grabbing onto his ankle, slamming him to the ground and buying you enough time to run in behind In-ho and close the door.

Relief washed over you only momentarily as your eyes met with a third person in the room. In-ho steps in front of you, "Out."

"But, we were here first. Why don't you put her out and I stay?" In-ho tilts his head at his last remark before wrapping his biceps around the man's head.

The door behind you shook as the other man tries to push it open, you are quick to press your body weight against it to hold it close, "In-ho, what do we do?" Your voice was frantic as the countdown continued.

In-ho's arms tighten around the mans neck as he pulls and pushes at his grasp, but In-hos eyes never faltered. Not once. They stayed piercing yours, full of determination.

"Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two..." The cracking sound of the mans neck made you flinch, his lifeless body hitting the floor with a thud.

I did say in-ho would keep you safe. At any cost.

"One."

The door locked behind you as you pressed your back against it, In-ho's stare stuck on you as he stepped over the man's body and towards you. He pushed your body against the door, his hand finding the flesh of your waist as his other hand pulled your neck into a desperate kiss. You became putty under his touch as he dug his fingers into your skin, he craved your touch as much as you did. And it was taking every muscle in his body not to take you and fuck you right now.

Your hands traveled from his chest and up to his neck, pulling him closer. A small whine escaped your pretty lips as he slid his hand up and under your shirt, the same hands he just used to kill for you.

For you.

You felt the door unlock with a click behind you. And In-ho pulled away reluctantly as your head fell back against the door, "I need you Y/N." He brushed his thumb over your red and swollen lips before taking your hand, and leading you out of the door.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"Attention, all players. Lights-out will be in approximately 30 minutes. With the remaining half hour, please disperse, and prepare to return to your beds for the night."

You sat next to Jung-bae who was excitedly talking about the next vote with Dae-ho as you watched In-ho move your mattress next to his. You hadn't dared to tell a soul about what happened in the yellow room, the kiss or the dead guy.

And you weren't going to tell anyone.

You should be concerned, right? Concerned over how easy it was for him to snap a guys neck without breaking eye contact? He was emotionless, cold, really attractive. You had witnessed many fights between him and other men while growing up, especially when it came to fighting over you.

But he never once killed for you. Until now, at least. Were you wrong to think it was really hot?

"Once the lights go out, the ones who wanna stay are gonna come for us." Gi-huns voice broke you from your thoughts, "Killing us would mean they win the next vote. It would also increase the prize money."

In-ho sat down next to you, his hand immediately finding your back, "We have to attack first then, it's our only chance. Those guys assume we're just waiting it out till the next vote. When the lights go down, we should hit them first since they won't expect it." He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, watching is you nod in agreement.

Gi-hun shook his head and leaned in closer to the group, "No, we can't. We'd be playing right into their hands if we did."

"Who is 'they'?" You tilted your head as you asked, failing to notice In-ho's gaze darken.

"The ones who built this whole place. The ones who created the games and who watch us play." The group listens closely, "If we're gonna try and fight anyone, we should be going after them instead."

"Sure, but where are they?"

Gi-hun looks up, "They're up there. At the top of the staircases. They keep everything here running from up in their central control room." He looks back at the group, "There's a man in a black mask who's the head of the operation. If we can get to him, we finally can end this."

In-ho sighs in disagreement, "It's too risky. Even if we manage to get a few guns they'll outnumber us when we try to get out." You feel his hand slide from your back and wrap around your waist.

"What are you suggesting? That we fight the other group through the whole entire night, and hope that we all make it? Is that it, Young-il? Do you really think that's a good plan?" Gi-huns voice is a little raised and you feel In-ho's grip on you tighten.

"Do we... stand a chance?"

"If we can manage an ambush, yes. Those bastards up there, they'll never expect our side to attack. They'll be focused on other things. This is it." You nodded with Dae-ho, ready to fight, "This is our last chance to put an end to these games and make sure they never happen again."

"Lights out in ten seconds."

"Once the lights are off, we have to get under our beds as quietly as we can. We can't afford to get caught by the other side. And we know they'll be out for blood." Gi-hun whispers as he slides under his bed.

You and In-ho follow suit, laying on your stomachs as you peer out from under your bed. You feel the contrast between your shaky breaths and his own steady breathing, and you can't comprehend how he could be so calm.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

"I have a plan." In-ho's voice was barely above a whisper, and a shiver runs down your spine at the sound of a woman yelling.

You look at him, "But, what about Gi-hun's plan?"

You didn't miss the small smirk that played on his lips, "Just stay by my side." Without a word In-ho swiftly moves from out of his bed, pulling you with him.

"Wait! What are you-" His hand came to your mouth as you both hugged the wall while discreetly moving towards the small metal door.

In-ho removed his hand to place a short knock. The small window opened, a guard peering through the flap. Without a single question, the door opened, and In-ho was quick to push you through.

You watched as the guard swiftly opened the bathroom door allowing you and In-ho to enter. You turned to the door as it shut behind you before looking at In-ho, "How did that guard just let you through? I don't understand, we have to go back In-ho."

"Or we can stay. We're safe here- you're safe here." He stood on the opposite wall in front of you, watching as you rested your hand on the doorknob.

He knew you were thinking about going back. But he also knew you weren't going to. He had you wrapped around his finger, just like all those years ago. And you knew it too.

You dropped your hand from the doorknob, biting your lip as you feel him slowly stalk towards you. Need courses through your veins as his hand comes from behind and wraps around your neck, his other hand pulls your waist against him. His lips find your neck and you've melted instantly.

His bulge presses harshly against your ass as he sucks and bites your neck with unhuman desire. This wasn't like when you were younger, when you were flustered and shy. No. You were hungry with want and your eyes were filled with lust.

He whips you around, lips on your own now as he moves you backwards to the counter. Your knees go weak and he lifts you with ease, as if you weighed nothing, and places you on the counter. Your fingers dug into his back, desperate for more. Hungry for him.

In-ho bites your lip roughly, and you give him what he wants, opening your lips wider and letting his tongue fuck your mouth. You were intoxicated, In-ho was the man you thought of each night as you fucked yourself, screaming his name into oblivion. And now here he was, hiking your shirt over your head.

"Y/N." Your name slipped from In-ho's mouth swiftly as he lifts your shirt over your head before his lips find your exposed skin. A small whine escapes your lips as his hot mouth gives your cold skin goosebumps.

It was like that small little noise ignited something animalistic within him, a grunt fell off his tongue as he bit your skin. He loved the way you squirmed as he dipped his tongue into your collarbone, his eyes looking up at you.

Sweat slicked your forehead as your head throws back, your bra falling from your tits, landing on the floor. How did he take it off? His hand didnt even-

oh.

Oh.

You looked at the bra, the back was still clasped.But the straps, the straps were ripped. He had ripped your bra off of you with hunger. But, you couldn't focus on the bra anymore as a moan escaped your mouth, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as In-ho rolls your nipple under his tongue.

He trailed sloppy kisses up to your mouth before stepping back, observing you. He pulls his shirt of with ease, "Take off your pants." It was demanding, and you obeyed. Your fingers trembled as you slipped off your bottoms and panties.

In-ho presses his tongue against his cheek, cocking his head as he takes you in piece by piece. You were sprawled out on the counter, your back resting against the mirror and your chest heaved, "What. What are you looking at In-ho."

"I'm thinking about all the bruises your pretty body is going to have after I fuck you."

He sinks to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he delves his tongue into your folds. You gasp, your legs involuntarily locking around his head. His tongue laps as he looks up at you. His nose perfectly brushes your clit, and he knows it as you rock your hips, "Oh, f-fuck. In-ho please."

He smirks against you as you sputter his name. He feels himself growing harder each time you whimper under his mouth. He drinks you up, your taste slicking on his face as you his tongue finds your clit.

One of your hands remove from the edge of the counter and find its way to his hair, "In-ho please," You pull his hair up to make him look at you, "If you stop now, I-I will kill you."

A small chuckle vibrates through your core as his lips latch your clit, rolling it under his tongue. Your legs pull him closer, if possible, and you feel your climax building. You arch your hips, rolling against his mouth as the need to cum grows louder. In-ho roughly laps on your swollen clit, desperate for your release.

And suddenly the earth stops spinning as you dissolve into pleasure, letting yourself unravel under him. Your body jerks as shockwaves move throughout your body, and you let his name roll of your tongue.

"Scoot down." You do as you're told and wiggle your ass until its slightly off the counter. In-ho watches as you still attempt to steady your breathing, smirking as he dips the waist of his pants down.

Your eyes widen as he places one of his hands on the side of your body, letting him tower over you. Your eyes trailed to his other hand that was busy lining his dick up with your core, but his eyes are on you. Waiting to watch your reaction as you take his cock.

He sinks into you, your breath catching and your eyes closing as he doesn't ease you into it, stretching you out. A grunt escapes his mouth at your reaction, you were so beautiful like this.

In-ho leans back and takes a hold of both of your ankles, holding them above you as he sets the pace. Your knuckles turn white as you grip the counter with one hand and cover your mouth with the other.

In-ho quickens the pace with each thrust, pounding into you like a toy. Animalistic grunts escape his mouth, "Y/N, you're so good for me. I've missed this so -fuck- so much."

You whine at his words, desperate attempts to buck your hips failed. He had you pinned down under you, controlling everything. He can feel the way you grip him, lustful tension building in the air, "Atta girl."

Oh fuck, he feels so good. He fits perfectly in you, just like all those years ago. The passion was still there, and god, he made you know it. You're drunk with desire, clenching around him as the pace picks up. His thrusts are sharp, deep, and you can tell he's close.

Your hands find his face, forcing him to look at you. His eyes met yours as his cock hit every. right. spot. His eyes softened, a contrast to his pornoraphic thrusts. In the middle of everything, all the death around you, you rekindled a love you never thought you would experience again.

Your eyes stay locked as the grip on your ankles tightened, In-ho's head dropping slightly as he came, time slowing as waves of electricity engulfed him. Warmth flooded over your body as he pulsed inside of you, gently laying your legs back down before leaning forward.

He pulled you close to him, his hands cupping your face and his thumb gently lifting your chin, "I love you Y/N." A smile displayed on his lips as he kissed you softly.

You bit back a sob, "In-ho... I never stopped loving you. You've been my person, even when you weren't mine."

He kissed you again, this time with promise. A promise of making it out of the games, a promise of love, a promise of hope.

In-ho never thought much of a future. He always saw himself living for the games. He expected to die as the front man, he didn't have anything to lose. But now he does. He has a future now, and it's you. He is not living for the games anymore. He is living for you.

Would you still love him when you find out the truth?

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

A/N: Hey pookies!! Tysm for all the love recently it's definitely motivated for me to come out of retirement. Pls lmk who I should write for next! I'm in a squid game mood so maybe Gi-hun?

@tsarinaaaz @flowersbloom8787 @vixtyhu @dottoremybbg @fnl9zer @cdej6 @galadoesart @watasinekoru @icantcryicantstopcrying @seasaltrasp @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @gurjxxpp11

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[ak-vintage]

Work of Art

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Prompt: Marcus Acacius & Nose

Summary: Your pregnancy brings out a vulnerability in Marcus you never would have expected. When he reluctantly shares his insecurities with you, you are more than happy to reaffirm your affection for each and every part of him.  

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Second-person POV, no use of Y/N, established relationship, arranged marriage, POSSIBLE DUBCON (sex in an arranged marriage with a patriarchal power structure), hefty age gap, pregnant reader, inexperienced reader, insecurity, body worship, nose worship, face-sitting, oral (f! receiving), discovering that you’re in love with your spouse, SO MUCH FLUFF, high likelihood of historical inaccuracy (aiming for vibes, not perfection)

Written for @joelmillerisapunk PPCU Body Worship Writing Challenge

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

Read on AO3

It is barely sunrise when the messenger arrives at your door.

Coated in a layer of dust from the road, mounted on the back of a well-lathered horse, and bearing the colors of the empire, the young man demands your staff wake you to receive him – that he is under orders to accept no intermediary, that his message is intended for the lady of the house and no one else. The news of his arrival sends ice into your veins the moment you open your eyes; even as the wife of a general, you do not often receive messages from the front lines, and you could not resist fearing the worst. Curls loose and mussed with sleep, tunica tied almost haphazardly in your haste, you rush to the atrium as quickly as propriety will allow and take the messenger’s sealed scroll with trembling hands.

My dearest wife, it reads. The skirmish on the southern border has been quelled for the time being. In recognition of our efforts, and out of respect for our recent union, I have been granted leave to return to Rome for a period of respite. If the sea is calm and the road is easy, you can look to the horizon for my return in one month’s time. Prepare the household for my arrival. Faithfully yours, Marcus Acacius

The relief you feel at those words is so powerful that you sink into the nearest chair, weak-kneed. Thankfully, your staff are more than competent enough to manage offering food, a bath, and a fresh horse to the harried messenger without your guidance, for you have not the capacity to play hostess. It had been your greatest fear, you realize as you sit there reading and re-reading the general’s letter until your eyes begin to burn with fatigue. You had had such little time as husband and wife before Marcus had been shipped out to the border, and you dread nothing more than the prospect of joining the ranks of the widows of Rome before you even have the opportunity to fully know the man you had married. It would have been such a waste, you think, like a flower cut from the vine when it was barely a bud, cursed never to bloom for the rest of time.

The truth is that although yours had been an arranged marriage, one of convenience, you feel (perhaps naively) that it held great promise. The general had never married, choosing to prioritize his military ambitions over his personal life. However, now that he was getting older, he had determined that it would be wise to seek a wife who might give him an heir to the prestigious station he had earned for himself over the years. Your father, a wealthy, prominent senator, had brokered the match, and a mere fortnight after you had been introduced for the first time, you had been wed.

Marcus had proven to be a gentle husband, a great contrast to what you had believed based on the tales of his ferocity in battle. He had spoken kindly to you and listened patiently, giving weight to your words, treating you like a partner right from the start. He had given you free reign over the household and encouraged you to mold his domus and his staff to suit your tastes. You had had very little time in each other’s presence, but he nevertheless struck you as a man of honor, a man of principle. As a woman in your position, there was little else you could ask for in a match, and the thought had comforted you as you stood side-by-side with this near-stranger and signed your marriage contract.

On your wedding night, he had been as tender with you as he could. You had been able to tell that he was holding himself back, restraining himself from taking you as savagely as he might have wished, but for that, you thought him compassionate. Of course, there had been some pain to start; this you had anticipated. However, toward the end of your coupling, as the general had begun to growl muffled curses into the soft skin of your neck and thrust himself so deeply inside you, you swore you could feel his manhood in your belly, you thought perhaps that it might have begun to feel…good?

He had spilled his seed within you shortly thereafter, bringing your union to a sudden and dramatic end and leaving your tentative, blooming pleasure to fizzle and die in your veins.

You glance down at the swell of your belly at the recollection, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. The fruits of your union that night – and the nights that followed for the brief month he had been permitted to remain by your side – had made themselves apparent shortly after his departure. That had been five months ago now, and it had been an incredible relief to know that you had managed to fulfill your duty to the general so quickly. You had fully expected to give birth on your own, to share the joyous news with him via special messenger like so many other soldier’s wives. Now, to know that he is set to return so soon, that relief is compounded. Barring any emergencies on the front, he likely would be home long enough to be present for the birth.

Birthing was a woman’s business, of course. You knew there was little Marcus could truly do to aid you in your labors. But a part of you, perhaps a very foolish, girlish part of you, could not help but feel safer when he was near. You would sleep better at night knowing he was once again within the walls of your domus.

Easing yourself back onto your feet, you get the attention of the nearest member of your staff.

“Once our guest has been seen to, gather the others in the courtyard,” you command. “We have much to prepare. The general is coming home.”

General Marcus Acacius rides into Rome on a sunny afternoon astride a handsome black stallion. Escorted only by a small retinue of guards and vassals, he travels light, with the economy and efficiency of a man who has spent the majority of his adult life in an army camp. The servant boy you have stationed at the city walls every day for the last week eagerly tells you that he looks well, that he has been asked to report first to the emperors’ palace but that he expects to be home by nightfall.

The news of your husband’s imminent arrival has a riot of butterflies rising in your chest, and you feel the child you carry respond almost instantly, fluttering and twitching against the walls of your womb at your excitement. A smile pulls at your lips, and you smooth your palms over the rounded surface of your belly as if to say, “I understand. I feel it, too.”

You send a message to the kitchen staff with orders to ensure that the general’s favorite meal is prepared for this evening, as well as for his preferred wine to be brought up from the cellar. Perhaps it is a bit silly – this is his home even moreso than it is yours – but you have an odd desire to make him feel welcomed. You want him to know that you have given thought to his needs and his preferences, that you have managed and looked after his home with proficiency in his absence, that you have anticipated his return.

You want to make the general happy, you realize with a flush.  Not only for him to be happy, but you wish to be the cause of that happiness. Does that make you proud, you wonder? Or selfish? Perhaps. All you know for certain is that in the brief time spent by his side, all those months ago, you had begun to associate Marcus Acacius with feelings of comfort, of safety, of acceptance. Even perhaps…affection. You like him. Was it so wrong to wish for him to like you, too?

You are in the ostium waiting for him when the general arrives. The sun sets behind him as he approaches on horseback, still in full armor from his travels, and your first thought is that he is even larger than you remember. Blotting out the golden light with the incredible breadth of his shoulders, you think he looks almost otherworldly, like some mythical hero of old returned from a harrowing quest. You can feel your heart speed up behind your ribs, galloping like the hooves of his horse on the cobblestones, and you are thankful no one can hear it but you. You are a woman grown, wedded and bedded and carrying a child, the head of your own household, the wife of a prominent, respected officer of the grand army of Rome. The idea that you should become so flighty, so unmoored at the sight of your own husband is absurd.

When his gaze falls on you, your trembling hands find your stomach, a gesture that has become more and more instinctual as the bump has become more and more visible, and before he can even greet you, his eyes drop to where they rest.

Marcus pulls his horse up short, the soft expression in his dark irises sharpening, intensifying. You watch as his prominent brow draws up, something between shock and awe and hope washing over his face, and then he is swinging his leg up and over his mount, dropping to the ground, closing the distance between you in a handful of long, powerful strides. His eyes do not leave your stomach until he is a mere handful of inches from your body, and you catch sight of his broad, thick-fingered hands clenching at his sides as though resisting the urge to reach out and touch you.

“Dearest wife,” he rasps, his throat dry as he finally, finally flicks his eyes back up to meet yours. “Have you something to tell me?”

You swallow thickly, suddenly overcome with the intensity, the intimacy of his attention. “Welcome home…husband.” Your voice sounds tremulous to your own ears, but you do not allow yourself to dwell on it. Instead, you wrap both of your hands around one of his and bring his dry, scarred knuckles to your lips. Dropping a kiss onto the center ridge, you add, “It is a blessing from the gods to see you well after so many months apart.”

Your name is a sigh on his lips. “It is a blessing to be permitted to return home after so short a time,” he counters. “Now, if my eyes deceive me, I will beg your forgiveness and claim fatigue from the long journey as my excuse. But are you…”

He trails off, as though hesitant to speak the words aloud, and you could swear that someone had reached into your chest and taken hold of your heart for how tight it squeezes at the thread of hope woven into his words. Unable to bear it anymore, you finish his incomplete thought on your own.

“Yes…General Acacius – ”

“Marcus,” he interjects immediately, and you feel yourself flush at the familiarity.

“Marcus,” you echo. “I-I am with child. You are to be a father.”

The breath he releases is long and slow, his dark eyes shining in the setting sun, and if you did not know better, you might think that your revelation had rendered him speechless. However, it takes him only a moment to collect himself, and then he is reaching for your belly with both hands, palms outstretched almost pleadingly. “May I – ?”

You nod readily, feeling a grin split your face, and then his hands are on you, cupping your swelling bump with his sword-calloused touch. His skin catches on the fine material of your tunica, but you are unbothered. He is warm and vital against you, his touch more than welcome after so many months on your own, and as though the precious thing had been waiting for their cue, the child in your womb kicks against their father’s hands.

The general’s brows shoot up at that, his forehead crinkling beneath his dark, gray-streaked curls, and he lets out a rough, strained laugh. “By the gods. It’s true.” Keeping one hand on your bump, he brings the other to the side of your face, wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck, stroking your jaw with his thumb. It’s the most tender, intimate gesture he has ever shown you, and the heat of his palm has your knees weakening beneath you.

“You honor me, amica. Thank you,” he says, husky voice thick with emotion. He presses a brief, dry kiss to your forehead, and you cannot help but wish it had been to your lips instead.

Dinner passes in a blur of sumptuous foods and peppered questions, both from you about his time at the border and from him about how you are settling into your new home, your new role. This is one thing about your relationship that has been easy from the moment you met – it is clear to you that Marcus cares deeply about your perspective on the world. He never rushes you, never cuts in when you are speaking, never attempts to correct you in some demonstration of superiority. It’s a unique experience for you coming from a man, particularly one of his age and rank, and it makes you feel cherished in a way you never would have expected in a marriage like yours. You are under no illusions that yours was a love match, after all, but something about the intent way that Marcus holds your gaze, the way he nods along as you speak, the way he asks such thoughtful questions – it has you all but convinced that he cares for you as you are coming to care for him.

The two of you linger over dinner long past nightfall, but eventually, he stands from his chair at the head of the table, offers his hand to you, and leads you to the privacy of your shared chambers. He beds you that night, as you had expected he would after so long without the touch of a woman, and you go to him willingly. His touch burns with barely-restrained fervor, the expression on his handsome face twisted almost as if in pain, and just as you had on that first night, you feel something building within you as he takes you.

You have no name for it, and yet it feels altering in its magnitude. You feel like lightning, like lava, like some elemental thing ablaze with fire and light, and just when you are certain that the feeling is about to consume you, just as you know in your bones that you cannot take any more or you will surely die –

Marcus spills himself inside you, withdraws, and collapses onto the bed next to you.

The feeling recedes. You catch your breath. Your husband plants a kiss on your hairline, and under his lips, he finds the sweat of your exertion, of your truncated pleasure. He whispers “good night, amica” against your curls, and then he rolls away.

Moments later, soft snores fill the room. The general is fast asleep, but you…

You are going mad.

It is many days later before this madness finally comes to a head.

Every night since his return, Marcus has sought his pleasure in your body. He never forces himself upon you or hurts you in any way; he asks before touching you, always. But as you approach a full week of night after night of thwarted pleasure, you cannot help but begin to find ways to…delay the inevitable question. You have taken to engaging him in conversation as you lay in bed, asking him about the many visitors he has received over the last several days, or about his journey home from the border, or about his favorite horse, Tempestas. He takes this in stride, seemingly happy to indulge you, and the two of you spend long minutes talking softly by candlelight, warm and close under soft, shared sheets.

This night, you decide to ask him about the baby and how he feels knowing that you carry his heir, that his legacy is secured.

You anticipate the smile he gives you, the fond look in his eyes as he reaches out to feel the curve of your belly, as he has done now hundreds of times over the last week. What you do not expect is the earnestness of his words as he tells you, “I have never been a father before. At my age, I did not expect that I would ever have the privilege. Now that you have made it possible, I find that I care much less for legacy or inheritance than I do for…safety. Stability. Peace.”

You soften at that, and on instinct, your hand goes to his hair, brushing his graying curls back from his forehead with gentle, soothing strokes. You have found that this is something he likes, and he leans into your touch like a barn cat in a sunbeam. He seems pensive, and you allow the silence between you to linger while he gathers his thoughts.

“I mourn that this child should have a general for a father,” he admits after a moment. “I will be absent for much of his life. I will disappear for stretches of time that could number in years, and when I return, I will be like a stranger to him. Were it in my control, I would be more present. I wish to know my child. And for him to know me.”

“Him?” you echo, a bit impishly, and Marcus smirks.

“Or her, of course. I cannot claim to know whom you carry in your womb. I shall leave that mystery for the gods.”

You grin back him, enjoying the good humor sparkling in his dark eyes. “I am sure that however much time you are permitted to spend with our child – be it months or weeks or days – it will be enough.”

Lifting himself up on one elbow, the general fixes you with a skeptical frown. “How can you be so certain?” he asks.

“Because it does not take long to see who you are, Marcus,” you reply earnestly. “To see your nobility, your strength, your power. Your kindness. These are all things I learned about you in the mere fortnight before we were wed. Your child shall know these things about you, as well.”  

Tucking your hands beneath your cheek, you stare up at him from your pillow. The warmth of the candlelight casts shadows across his golden skin, highlighting the soft crinkles around his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the plush fullness of his lower lip. “Besides, even when you are away, I shall be around to teach them,” you add with a shrug.

“Amica…” He seems a bit overcome at your sincerity, and his low voice rasps like a sword on a whetstone in the darkness. “You are very generous.”

That riot of butterflies returns to your belly as the intimacy of the moment stretches on. Gods, but he is so beautiful like this. No one has ever looked at you the way he does – not with base lust for your body, not with envy for your wealth, not with dismissal for your sex. Marcus looks at you like something precious, like something to be valued. That look makes you foolish, makes your cheeks hot and your tongue loose.

When you speak again, it is without thought.

“When I think about our child…I hope that they look like you, so that even when we are apart, I might have some comfort in seeing your face every day.”

At that, the general lets out a full-bodied laugh and rolls his eyes. Flipping over onto his back, he shakes his head fondly at you like one might a mischievous child. “Now I know for certain that you are flattering me, wife.”

Your brows nearly reach your hairline as a flush of embarrassment races up the back of your neck, darkening your cheeks in an instant. “Wh – No, sir, I would never!” you insist. “I am being entirely earnest.”

“My face? My face upon an innocent babe?” He says this with a scoffing laugh, sounding amused, but when you catch sight of the tightness in his jaw, the wrinkle between his brows, you think that there might be something…authentic beneath his jesting words. “No, my dear wife. It would be far better if the child were to share your visage. Then they might truly be comely to look upon.”

Is it possible…have you stumbled upon a true insecurity, you wonder? It seems unlikely. This is General Marcus Acacius, commander of the emperors’ armies, a man two decades your senior who fought wars on behalf of Rome before you could even walk on two feet. He exudes power and strength and intelligence, and he carries himself with the kind of confidence and self-assurance that comes along with experience. He is a skilled strategist, an indomitable warrior.

Does he truly not see…

Scooting closer to him on the bed, you allow yourself to cup his bearded jaw, to turn his face toward yours. “There would be no greater gift than a child with your eyes, Marcus,” you say softly. “Or perhaps your smile.”

“But not this nose, surely,” he replies, tapping the end of his prominent, hooked nose with one calloused finger. He shakes his head with a wry smile, as though the idea is too preposterous to consider. “I would not willingly inflict such an eyesore upon a child.”

By the gods. He means it, you realize. He has truly surprised you. To your knowledge, the general is not a vain or self-conscious man. You have never known him to care overmuch about how he looks; it was quite a contrast to the pampered upper-class boys you grew up alongside, something you had found refreshing when you had first met. Had you misunderstood? Misinterpreted his lack of self-regard as a lack of care?

You decide it does not matter. All you know for certain is that your husband appears to be under the impression that his appearance leaves something to be desired, and as his wife, you feel it is your duty to demonstrate to him just how wrong he is.

The thought has your heartrate picking up again.

“Do you know…what I thought,” you begin haltingly, forcing yourself to hold his gaze, “the first day I met you, at my father’s villa?”

His dark brows knit together in a small frown, as though your words have surprised him. “Tell me.”

Swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat, you confess, “I thought you the most striking man I had ever seen.”

“You flatter me, dear heart.” His words are soft, as is his answering smile, but you can hear the platitude in his voice. He does not believe you.

“No, no, it is not flattery.” With some effort, you push yourself up off of the bed, too emphatic to remain lying down for this discussion. You haul your pregnant body up to kneel at his side, tucking your knees into the warmth of his thick waist, and your long hair dangles over his broad chest as you look into his eyes. “I know that…the circumstances of our union were not exactly romantic, and I know that we do not yet know each other well, but I hope you will heed my words when I tell you that…I count myself extremely fortunate to have been married to so handsome a man.” Glancing down at your hands, you fiddle with one of the many thin, gold rings on your fingers in self-consciousness. “My father could have selected anyone he liked. The fact that it is you who shares my bed, you whose child I carry… It is a blessing.”

It is silent between you for a time, your words hanging in the air like a declaration, but then Marcus’s body shifts against you. Curling up to sit at your side, one of his thick, broad hands comes into your line of vision and wraps itself around both of yours, stilling your fidgeting.

You risk a look up, meeting his gaze through the length of your lashes, and you feel your breath leave your body as you take in the softest, warmest, most tender expression you have ever seen on his handsome face.

“It pleases me to hear that you are happy,” he murmurs, running one of his thumbs along the back of your hand. “And that your affection for my look is genuine. It would not do for you to say such things in an attempt to…endear yourself to me. There is no need. I am already quite fond of you.”

You are quick to shake your head. “Not at all! If I have ever given you such an impression, you have my deepest apologies.”

Now that your true feelings for your husband have been revealed, you feel as though you can no longer contain them. Under the affectionate weight of his dark eyes, more comes spilling forth, unbidden. “The truth is that even in the short time that we have known one another, I have spent many hours at my easel attempting to recall your likeness in detail so that I might recreate it. Your nose in particular, I find to be most…attractive.”

Your hand moves of its own accord then, slipping from his grip to float across the narrow space between you as though possessed by some covetous spirit. The very tip of your middle finger lands in the space between his eyebrows, and although you make no conscious decision to do so, you trace down the steep curve of the bridge of his nose with a touch so delicate it might as well have been a breeze.

Your own voice sounds breathless and far away to your ears as you whisper, “You look like a sculpture, Marcus. Like the great marble warriors along the garden path. It makes you look stately and…masculine and…commanding.” Between your thighs, you feel your most intimate muscles clench. You have grown swollen and sensitive there, a feeling you have become increasingly familiar with since your husband’s return home. It’s sweet and delicious and utterly torturous, making you want to squirm in your seat, but you resist.

At least…until Marcus traps your hand in his and brings your wandering fingers to his mouth.

Your eyes snap to his, and you watch as he presses slow, lingering kisses across each of your fingertips. The sensation of his hot, moist breath on your sensitive skin has you trembling, and gods, but his lips are so soft. Turning your palm up to the heavens, the general places a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the tender center of your palm, and you feel yourself swaying toward him as though under a spell.

The plush of his lips dances gently across the thin skin of the inside of your wrist, and your pulse thrums beneath his touch as he growls, “There is perhaps…one advantage of such a face.”

“Tell me.” Your echo of his earlier words comes out like a whine, like you are pleading with him, though what you are pleading for, you cannot say.

Marcus appears to consider your request for a moment, his eyes going sharp and calculating, and then he says, “Perhaps it might be better if I showed you. Do you trust me, dear heart?”

You are quick to nod. “Yes. I trust you.”

Inclining his head at you in acknowledgment, he releases his grip on your hand and pulls away entirely. He lays back on the bed then, scooting down so that his head is flat on the padded surface rather than on his pillow. He adjusts himself a bit, shifting back and forth, but once he is comfortable, he looks back at you and pats his chest with both hands. The sound is muffled by his soft linen sleep tunic but nonetheless audible in the silence of your bedchamber.

“Mount me,” he says without preamble, and you swear you can hear the whirring gears in your brain grind to a halt.

“W-What?”

“I want you to sit astride my face, as you would a horse.” No matter how intensely your face burns at the wicked suggestion, you cannot seem to look away. His deep brown eyes are bottomless in the dark, the depths of them reflecting the candlelight like water at the bottom of a well. You can feel yourself falling into them, can feel something at the very core of you tugging toward him, answering his call. If you were to glance down at the rest of his body, you would see the evidence of the general’s own arousal tenting his tunic, but your gaze is trapped, held fast by the magnetism of him.

“Come, amica,” he says after a moment of your silent, scandalized staring. “You may rest your ass upon my chest, but I would have that sweet cunt on my mouth.”

You swallow audibly, still making no move to obey. Wetness begins to pool between your thighs, slicking your skin and staining the fabric of your sleep clothes, and you lose the battle against your urge to squirm. Your thighs clench together, and you shift upon your calves in search of friction, but you find none. You need his touch…but what he is suggesting is –

“M-Marcus, I couldn’t possibly – I shall smother you, how will you – ”

He cuts off your protests with a growl of your name, and in that moment, you see not your noble husband staring up at you. Instead, you see the Roman General Acacius – sharp jaw clenched, nostrils flared, dark eyes blazing.

“I shall not ask again, wife. No harm will come to you or to me. Now do as you’re told and sit on my face.”

You hesitate for another beat, then two, and then you shuffle forward on wobbly knees to obey. Your husband’s eyes burn a path across your body as you approach him, tracing from your parted, panting lips, to your heaving breasts, to your swollen, pregnant belly. You feel the look like a physical touch, and the sensation has your skin flushing, has sweat breaking out at the small of your back and the nape of your neck. With shaking, uncertain hands, you reach out and brace your palms against the gold-filigreed headboard for stability.

“That’s it, nearly there now,” Marcus sighs as you clumsily, awkwardly swing one of your legs over his body. Your knee lands on the other side of his shoulder, and you feel the heat of his touch on your naked thighs almost immediately. With slow, deliberate motions, he pushes the hem of your sleep tunic up to your hips, revealing your bare ass and cunt to the cool air of the bedroom.

You draw your lower lip between your teeth to stifle a whine, and gooseflesh breaks out across your skin. You’ve started to shake, though whether in fear or arousal, you couldn’t say. Gods, you’re so exposed now. The wetness between your thighs is fully on display, mere inches from your husband’s face. It’s mortifying; if you could melt into the bed and disappear forever, you know you would.

Marcus, however, clearly has no such compunctions. His thick fingers knead the soft, lush flesh of your hips and thighs, using his grip to draw your forward, to draw you down. The groan that oozes from his lips into the hot slip of atmosphere between you sounds exactly like the one he makes when he first slides inside you, and you feel yourself clench involuntarily at the tremor of it now sounding between your legs. He must catch sight of this, your body’s own betrayal happening right under that stately nose that started this whole ordeal, for one moment he appears to be watching you settle in with rapt attention, and the next, he is releasing a dark, sinister chuckle and yanking you closer.

You give a thought for resistance then, consider pulling yourself from his hold, but –

Oh, you can feel his breath on your cunt, can feel your dripping curls shift beneath the current of air as he laughs.  

You shift a bit on your knees, settling so that your weight rests just above each of his shoulders with his hands gripping your hips from behind you. The lower curve of your ass brushes the fine fabric of his tunic, and you are certain that if you could see his face, you would find his chin mere inches from the part of you that pulses and throbs for his attention. As it is, the roundness of your bump nearly eclipses his head, leaving only wisps of the thick, graying curls on the top of his head to peak out around the edges.

“Marcus?” Your voice trembles with nerves around his name, and beneath you, he sighs.

“Well done, amica, you are right where I want you,” he assures you with a groan. You feel the well-trimmed stubble of his silvered beard brush your lower lips; the feeling startles a gasp out of you, and on instinct, one of your hands flies from the headboard to the top of his head. “Mmm, yes, that’s it – sink your fingers into my hair. Hold yourself steady on me.”

You hardly recognize the sound of your own voice as you whimper, “Marcus – Marcus, please.”

“I know what you need.” His touch on your hips is warm, gentle, soothing. “Don’t be afraid. Now rest your weight on me and let me taste you.”

The joints in your limbs feel like water at the general’s words, at the hot wash of his breath across your swollen center. The embarrassment at your precarious position above his face still fizzes in your veins, making you lightheaded, but molten desire has begun to drown it out. Your mind doesn’t fully understand what is about to happen or what he is asking of you, but it seems that on some level, your body does, because it is absolutely thrumming for it.

There is nothing for it anymore. You cannot refuse him. You do not want to refuse him. Whatever he is about to do to you, your body needs it, craves it in the same way it does air or water or food. When you sink your cunt down onto your husband’s waiting mouth, it feels both like a surrender and like a victory.

“Oh – gods, Marcus – ”

Marcus groans deep in his chest the moment you touch his tongue, and then he is bracketing his arms around your thighs and forcibly seating you even more firmly against him. Dragging the slick, pink muscle of his tongue through your folds in one long, languorous stroke, it doesn’t take long before your thighs begin to tremble around his ears. He is focused, meticulous, thorough in his exploration of your most intimate flesh – sucking delicately at your lips, dipping the gentle tip of his tongue into your soft, quivering hole, using the flat of it to dance around that swollen nub at your apex that pulses with the thunderous beat of your heart. The thick arms locked around your thighs angle you this way and that, and through the sound of your own gasps and whines, you can hear the way your wetness drips at his touch.

Every lick, every suck, every swirl of his tongue serves to drive you higher, and you find yourself mindlessly running your hands over your body to ground yourself – stroking your belly, gripping your hips, cupping your breasts. The latter has you accidentally brushing your hardened nipples with your thumbs, and even muted as it is through your tunic, the sensation has you crying out into the dark room.

And that tongue never stops. Marcus is relentless – inexorable and yet unhurried. You can feel all of the tension in your hips and thighs melting away under the heat of his touch, and yet deep within you, something has begun to twist, to pulse, to squeeze. It feels like it does when Marcus beds you – pleasure stirring, burning, building within you as he grows more and more intent, more and more hungry, oh, gods…

It is miraculous. It is unbearable. It is tantamount to torture.

“Marcus,” you gasp helplessly, your fingers knotting in his hair, gripping the headboard. “I – I need – ”

The general pulls away from your cunt with a growl like an animal, and the sound rumbles through your body as he rasps, “That’s it, beautiful girl. Ride my face. Grind those hips into me and ride my face.”

You understand each of his words individually, but they do not coalesce in your mind. How does one “ride” a face? For a moment, you feel self-consciousness and shame begin to creep in at the edges of your thoughts. There are others who would understand the general’s instructions, surely. Others who would know what he wanted and would do it for him in an instant. For the first time, you allow yourself to consider the women that follow the army camps, the women whose services you were certain your husband had partaken of throughout his extensive career. They would know, certainly. Was there truly anything you could offer him that they could not?

Just as you begin to lose that delicious curl of pleasure in your core, as the fog of desire begins to clear from your brain, Marcus flexes those thick, strong arms around your legs and encourages your hips to thrust, dragging your tender flesh across the stubble of his beard, the plush of his lips, the slick of his tongue. That tongue, suddenly firm and pointed, thrusts into your sex, lapping at your wetness, filling the place that clenches for his cock. With the hitch of your hips, that swollen bundle of nerves just at the top glances across the bridge of your husband’s nose.

“Ah! Marcus!”

Beneath your cunt on his face, beneath your hand in his hair, you feel him nod emphatically, and understanding crashes over you like a wave. “Riding” his face. “Mounting” him, like a horse. This is what he wants. He wants you to thrust your hips against his face, as if in the saddle of a warhorse. To rub yourself against his nose and his tongue.

He wants you to find your pleasure with his body.

As though all your joints and muscles had been waiting on this realization, your hips begin to move of their own accord almost immediately, thrusting against that relentless, ever-present tongue, driving it deeper into the hot clutch of your cunt, and fuck…that nose, that big, strong, curved, perfect nose, glancing off of that most sensitive spot with every thrust. Head thrown back, hands on your breasts, fingers twisting and pulling your tender nipples through your tunic, you experiment with different speeds, different pressures, different depths, but if you are honest with yourself, you are so far gone that it has all begun to feel equally intense, equally delicious.

And so you move with abandon – leaning heavily on the headboard for balance, gripping his hair, you grind your swollen, dripping cunt across your husband’s handsome face, fucking his tongue deep into your body, riding the hard curve of his perfect Roman nose. You feel yourself pulse and twitch and tremble with every thrust, feel him lap and slurp and suck at you with new fervor, feel his thick fingers dig into your hips so deeply you know you will bear his bruises in the morning. You had not known pleasure like this existed, had not known it was possible for you to achieve it. You feel drunk with it, the way it seeps into your veins like one too many glasses of wine, and Marcus drinks you down like the finest vintage.

Your clitoris drags across his nose once again, and you cannot smother your moan at the feeling. “Gods, Marcus, your nose – ”

Against your wetness, the general’s face vibrates with something like a chuckle. “I know, dear heart, I know – I told you, this face has one advantage.”

You shake your head fervently, feeling your long curls brush your back as you grind. “It’s perfect. Perfect, Marcus, I – oh, gods, I feel – ”

Another animalistic growl ripples through your husband’s chest, and you feel him nod beneath you. “Jus’ let it happen, amica. Take your pleasure,” he slurs, mouth full of you.

And you do. You take and take and take, clit grinding, hips thrusting, thighs shaking, lungs gasping, and with every pass, that bright, hot, vicious spiral in your abdomen winds tighter, tighter, tighter. Gods, it feels as though it is going to consume you – to swallow you whole and drag you under, to drown you in your own dripping sweetness, your own savage pleasure.

And then it plateaus, the sensations holding, holding, staying at precisely the same level, dangling you over the edge, and in a far away voice, you hear yourself whimper, “Marcus, please!”

Releasing his grip on one of your hips, the man beneath you lands a single, sharp smack to the meat of your ass, and over the edge you fall.

It’s everything you thought it could be – lightning in your veins, lava in your lungs, something primal and elemental and raw that rips through your body like a tidal wave that leaves you hiccuping whines and shaking like a leaf atop the general’s face. You spill your pleasure down his chin, into his mouth, along his jaw. It slips down his neck and dampens the embroidered collar of his tunic, and the way he groans into your twitching cunt, you would think that it had caused him pain. But no – he feels your ecstasy as though it is his own. You have left your body to soar among the clouds, and he joins you, overcome with the particular joy of being responsible for making his wife – the mother of his child – reach such heights.

When you come back to yourself, you are utterly spent – limp and boneless and sweating as though you had just run at top speed from here to the city gates. You start to collapse, and Marcus’s strong hands are there to catch you, to slide you down from his face to his lap. Gathering you into his arms, he brings you back down onto the mattress and tucks you into his side. His broad shoulder cushions your flushed cheek, and his fingers brush your disheveled hair back from your face as you catch your breath. Through bleary eyes, you catch the way his face shines in the candlelight. He’s covered in your slick.

For a few moments, you simply gaze at each other as the silence stretches between you. It is only punctuated by the sound of your labored breaths as each of you settle, but somehow it isn’t awkward, and you find yourself smiling in spite of yourself. He’s so perfect like this, your Marcus. Hair mussed, face pink, everything from his chin to his nose glowing with your pleasure.

There’s a softness around his eyes you’ve never seen before, an earnest warmth that burrows its way into your chest and makes a nest there dangerously close to your heart. It’s an emotion you have a name for, if you are brave enough to say it, and the thought has you gripping tight to his tunic.

You are in awe of him.

You…you love him.

“And what is your verdict, my wife?” he asks after a beat. His voice is a low rumble that travels through his chest and into your body, warming you inside. “Does this Roman nose still please you?”

A tired grin tugs at the corners of your lips, pulling you out of the seriousness of your thoughts, and you nod as enthusiastically as you can manage. “Indeed, I am not certain I have ever been quite so…pleased before, husband.”

“Hmm. Good.” Marcus tucks the arm around your body into your waist, pulling you even deeper into his embrace. “Then perhaps the thing may serve a purpose after all.”

You reach up and cup his cheek in your palm, feeling the stickiness of your spend in his beard on your skin. “The purpose it serves is that it is my husband’s nose, and as such, is a part of the dearest face in the world to me.” His dark eyes soften at that, and he turns to place a warm kiss on the heel of your hand.

“Though…should you find yourself forgetting,” you add with an impish grin, “I would not object to a…repeat demonstration of its value. If it would be of any help to you, of course.”

This startles a laugh from his chest, his dark eyes crinkling with mirth, and you cannot help but join in. Gods, he is gorgeous, you think to yourself as you chuckle together in the dark. Both in his soul and in his body, your husband is gorgeous.

A hand drops to the place where your child rests, safe and protected inside your womb, and you feel a little flutter against your palm.

You decide then that you care not whether your child bears your face or Marcus’s. Either way, they will be beautiful, for how could they not be, when they have come from this?

Latin Translation:

amica - darling, sweetheart

[bunnis-monsters]

See you again

Male!Yandere!Vampire x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 8th

Oct 7th

Oct 9th

summary: when a rich vampire suspects you are a reincarnation of his lover, you have no choice but to return with him to his manor and become his wife.

warnings: yandere behavior, breeding, dubcon, aphrodisiac venom

a/n: sorry this is so late I’ve had horrible writers block lately ><

Moonlight flickered through the stained glass window, casting a multicolored light across your plump frame.

You almost glowed, looking like an angel sent from above.

He had spotted you across the ballroom an hour ago.

The vampire usually never came to such things, but it was a particularly lonely night for him. About 20 years ago, his human lover died in his arms. A plague had swept across the town she lived, and he hadn’t been there quick enough to turn her before the illness took her life.

He had spent all that time in agony, drifting between thoughts of suicide and loathing, to moments of bliss when he’d remember how much he loved her… and she loved him.

Tonight was the anniversary of her death, and he figured he’d drown his sorrows in the blood of the rich and expensive alcohol.

Instead, he found you.

You were sitting at a table, your elegant gown ill fired on your plump frame. Your breasts were absolutely squished by the tight fabric, and his eyes were drab to your fat belly.

If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought you were her, his love, his everything. You had the same plump frame, eye color, hair the same texture and style…

God you were gorgeous… his pants tightened as he caught a whiff of your perfume.

The same scent she used to use.

He took in a deep breath before approaching you. Maybe a night of fun could… make him feel just a little bit better.

“Hello, beautiful…”

You didn’t look up, assuming he was talking to someone else. This made him pause for a moment before he walked closer and cleared his throat. “My lady, may I have a word with you?”

When your eyes met his, he nearly teared up. He felt an instant spark, his undead heart soaring. You had to be her, no one else had ever made him feel this way before!

“What is it you’d like to speak about?”

He sat down across from you, smiling. “How about you tell me your name?”

The two of you spent the next hour making idle small talk, with him leading most of it. You were shy and soft spoken, much like you had been in your previous life.

You had borrowed a dress from your cousin to attend this party in hopes of finding a decently wealthy husband, an order given to you by your father. That explained why your gown was ill fitting. The man frowned deeply, his fangs threatening to peek out from his lip.

He would be making sure you wore only the finest of fabrics from now on, each dress and outfit custom made to suit your figure. Gods, he wanted to undress you right now more than anything…

But things like this were a process. He didn’t want to hurt or scare you so badly that you tried to flee, and he would rather you home with him willingly. Scaring you would have to wait until you were reliant on him…

So instead he listened to your woes and leaned forward. As long as he could get close enough to your neck to deliver a bite, he could bring you home with him…

“So your father’s business isn’t doing well, I assume?”

You nodded shyly, playing with a bit of lace on your dress. “That’s why he wants me to marry quickly while he still has his status… he hopes that my future husband will support him financially enough to keep the business afloat.”

“How troublesome, being stuck in the middle of this…”

He reached out to caress your cheek, shivering when he made contact with your soft skin. “Mmm… wouldn’t it be nice to get away from it all?”

You were about to say something, but he spoke over you. “Come with me, my love… perhaps I can do something to help.”

Your eyes lit up. He was dressed well, and people seemed to respect him enough to make way for him while you walked through the crowded ballroom to somewhere private! Maybe he could help your father…

But as he closed the door, something shifted. His eyes that had previously been a rich brown in color suddenly changed to be a startling ruby red.

“Oh, how I have yearned for you…”

He was on you in seconds, pinning you to the wall. You couldn’t even scream before his teeth were sinking into your neck, something thick and warm coursing through your veins.

“My venom will help this be a pleasant experience for you, my princess… gods…”

He shivered in pleasure, his bulge pressing into your thigh as he lapped up your blood. “Fuck, I missed you, I missed you so damn much…”

Tears fell down his face, his lips meeting yours in a feverish kiss. His fangs nipped at your tongue, but he didn’t seem to care. The man needed you more than anything.

He held onto you so tightly that your skin began to bruise. It had been decades since he had seen his lover, and going so long without you had been agony. Every night he lay awake, unable to sleep or even exist in peace without you by his side.

And now that he had you back… he wasn’t going to let you go.

It took only a moment for the aphrodisiac in his venom to kick in. Your body grew hot and weak, your pussy drenched within seconds. When he pulled down the zipper of your stress, you wiggled out of it and willingly clung to him.

“S-so warm… p-please… make it better…”

Your soaked panties against his bulge made him hiss. In his twisted, lovesick mind this proved to him that you were her. You wanted him, you loved him!

“Of course…” he purred, stroking your clit through the wet fabric. “Anything for you, I’d gather the stars and lay them at your feet if it meant you’d be happy, my love…”

Seeing your fat pussy for the first time in years was enough to have him rock hard.

Back before you died, you had always wished for children, but he was too stubborn, not wanting it. When he was ready, it was too late and you were gone.

He had regretted it ever since. How he yearned to see your belly swell with his baby, to fill you up with cum and make you a happy mother…

“My pretty girl…”

He rubbed his tip against your entrance. It was flushed an angry red, desperate to feel your gummy insides. “I love you… I love you so much…”

He pushed in, capturing your lips in a kiss as he fucked into your warm cunt. All he wanted now was to cherish and protect you, to lock you away and make sure no one but him got to even look at his beautiful girl.

They didn’t deserve you, didn’t have the honor of laying their eyes on you. Only he did.

He lost count of how many times he came inside of you. The aphrodisiac in his venom had you crying out and blubbering for more, desperate for his touch. It ands his chest will with bride to watch your belly bulge with his cum.

As he road home in his carriage with your exhausted body in his lap, he couldn’t help but rub your fat belly, a fond look in his eyes.

He was getting a redo, and this time he’d give you everything you wanted, treasure you even more than he had before.

And there was nothing you could do to convince him otherwise. You were his, bound to him by fate. Even if you had no memory of this man… it was no use.

You would be with him until the day you died… if he let you.

want more? I thought about expanding on this and making it more of a thought out story… I’ll do it if you send me a kofi! ><

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[pearlywritings]

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 2

pairings: Capitano, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort; hybrids, unwelcomed courting, kind of female objectification (all in Tighnari's part)

word count: 6.9k+ words

a/n: part 1 and part 3 can be read here!

Capitano

Fast elegant fingers of a pianist run across the keys of black and white and the violins in the hands of other musicians are there to serve together with the chorus of beautiful voices, selected by Lady Columbina personally. The music infiltrates the souls of the nobles present, filling them with the sense of grandeur and glory, touching even their harsh unfeeling hearts.

The atmosphere of the gathering is gratifying, would’ve even been endearing if not for the stately figures of the Harbingers standing on both sides of the throne, where the Tsaritsa would've been seated had she not decided to refrain from attending it altogether. She has more important matters to take care of, and nine of her most loyal servants can definitely fill in her place on that yearly event.

Sure, this year it is more important since the two Harbingers are missing and the seats stay vacant - it's been the talk of the nation. Who is going to be nominated? Can it be influenced? Will they claim the names today?

Is the mysterious Commander, whose arrival became the topic of multiple speculations, be the one? A fierce warrior many heard of, but almost none saw face to face. The man was believed to be as powerful as the 11th Harbinger or maybe even the 10th! Having an army and an establishment of his own on the farthest line of the Snezhnayan border, he still is under the command of Lord Capitano, which makes it even harder to fish any more information than what is already known to the public.

"I only heard about him. He and his troops are protecting our borders from the monster's invasion in the North."

"Ew, who would've wanted to live in the North! It's much harsher than all the Snezhnaya."

"Shush, the Commander is wealthy and respectful, you can bear some cold."

"What do you imply?"

"The Commander is unmarried, there is no way he isn't, not with a life like this. But it can always be changed, and the woman he takes as wife would be one of the luckiest ones!"

"You are right… Maybe he is actually handsome. Maybe he'd be even willing to buy a whole mansion for his promised one and not take her with him to that awful place. Maybe…"

Maybe, maybe, maybe. It travels through the crowds like a storm in its wake, eventually reaching the Harbingers, who, for the first time after appearing and greeting the already arrived, stop resembling the statues. Eyes shift among the people and each other; some gazes hold interest, some - annoyance. Only Pantalone has an ever present smile on his face, fingers clasped in front of him and sapphire rings sparkle in the ballroom light.

"Looks like Capitano's estimated soldier caught everyone's attention. My, my, how curious and nosy the people can be…"

"I understand the curiosity though," admits Childe, arms crossed to prevent laying even a finger on his blade, that is resting on his hip. "This person sounds like an interesting specimen… I've heard of his talents in both strategy and tactics, and it seems like his strength is a legend. I'd love to spar with him."

"Oh you, thinking only about fights, young man," Pulcinella disapprovingly shakes his head and raises his cane to point in the gingerhead's direction. "I highly doubt our guest will have time to spare, considering the period of time concerning the stay that was mentioned in the letter we received."

"And I believe the majority of that time would be spent with Il Capitano, isn't it right?" Columbina's soft voice must be drowning in the music, but everyone hears her loud and clear.

"..." The Harbinger stays silent and nothing can be read from his body language since he is the only one remaining still in his place, his huge looming figure resembling one of the full-set armor nobles like putting in their halls as a part of interior. Except this one isn't empty.

"So much potential to become my test subject, to be perfected... Yet lost to the lands of Northern regions," Dottore huffs in disappointment, his sharp teeth peaking when he clicks his tongue. "Say, Pierro, can't things be rearranged? I'd happily have our dear border protector as my underling."

The silence between the nine suddenly becomes thick. There is something indescribably tense in the air and only Childe can't understand why some of his colleagues seem to be more interested in how the Captain would react and not the 1st of the Harbingers..

"You know why this can't be rearranged, Dottore," the stare of an icy blue eye would pin everyone to the ground, destroying their will and order to obey, though doing little to scare the Doctor. "And it was favored by the Tsaritsa herself."

The finality of the short statement makes the scientist back down from the proposition he's been bringing up every time the topic touches the Commander, yet ending up the same way as always - with an ultimate rejection.

Three heavy thuds make everyone in the room fall silent. Many heads turn to look at the ceremonial staff hitting the floor the last time and staying still in the hand of a tall, thoroughly dressed man.

"The protector of the Northern border, the glorified and esteemed warrior of Her Majesty Tsaritsa, The Commander has arrived," the master's of ceremonies voice carries like a thunderclap, cutting off the quite leisurely music the orchestra was playing for the dances and entertainment.

The rustle of note sheets is fleeting and not a moment later the musicians straighten in their seats, taking a deep breath. Trumpets boom in a spacious room and make nobles shiver in surprise, some especially susceptible women even lean on their partners for support. The choir and the violins join the triumphant song the brass instruments sing, signaling that the time has come.

Everyone holds their breath as the tall heavy doors leading to the ballroom are being pulled open. Everyone has their gaze glued to a slowly growing gap. Everyone keeps their eyes wide open, afraid that even one blink can cost them missing the legendary sight.

Everyone gasps.

The tall figure enters, posture straight and shoulders squared, confidence evident in every step. Black satin clothes are adorned with golden chains and intricate patterns. The white military coat stayed resting on the shoulders - showing off the position, the closeness to the Harbingers. And then there is the face - a scar crossing the left brow, calm bored eyes, not sparing anyone a glance, which do not fit the other female features of your face.

Yes, the Commander happens to be a woman.

Stopping by the steps leading to the throne, you bow - not kneel, bow, - holding your open palm by the heart and respectfully closing your eyes. Music stops.

“Greetings, my lords. Let Tsaritsa bless you and your mission.”

“Let Tsaritsa bless you and your service to her,” Pierro says, raising his hand. “Lift your head,” which you do, looking him right in the eyes, yet still holding your hand by the chest. “There is time for duties and there is time for entertainment. And tonight, given your rare visits to the capital, I suggest you enjoy the latter.”

“Much obliged, Lord Pierro.”

And with a wave of the older man’s hand, the orchestra starts a new composition, waking up the ones who were in a daze, reminding others they are here for drama.

And the first one to take action is the 11th Harbinger.

“Commander, Sir- I mean, Lady?” The gingerhead is the closest to you out of all his colleagues, having only to descend a few steps to be on your level. “I’ve heard a lot about you, many admirable things. How do you look at sparring?”

“Right in the middle of a ballroom? Quite positively, young man,” your lips twist in a half-smirk, baring a sharp pearly canine. “But I believe the nobles have already had enough shock to take and rumors to create. Maybe another time. Haven’t seen you before though. Are you new?”

“Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, Lady Commander.”

“Ma’am would be enough,” you click your tongue, glancing behind and noticing how slowly, but surely some of the aristocrats are inching towards you, clearly interested in conversation, Well, you are not. “On second thought, starting a duel right now and here doesn’t sound like a bad idea…”

“I’ve always known you are quite insane,” Arlechino butts her way in the conversation, giving you only a small nod as a greeting. You simply glance at her.

“For years I’ve been hearing of my insanity, think of something new,”

“How about, ‘the one who knows no limits’?” Pantalone’s smile is as dazzling as it’s fake and sometimes your hands are itching to strangle the man. Maybe even go all the way out and bite his head off. Literally.

“The only ones who know no limits are the wind and the stupidity. I’m neither. Who I am though,” your gaze travels higher, to the steps closest to the Tsaritsa’s throne, to there Pierro and the first three Harbingers are standing, “is a wife. And I’d like to have a dance with my husband.”

Not many heard your words, but the ones who did, gasp loudly, staring at you with wide eyes. Which get even wider when Il Capitano, a seemingly motionless statue before, turns in his place and, without a pause, steadily descends to you. Now, as you are standing so closely it becomes evident how obviously your outfits match. The chains, the patterns, even the precious stones - everything. Perhaps it is terrifyingly cute. Perhaps it's cutely terrifying.

“Husband,” your smile again, offering him your hand, which he immediately envelopes in his big clawed one.

“Wife,” is the first word the big figure rumbles for the evening, the void of its helmet staring at you. And that’s all you speak to each other, hearing the beginning of another melody and turning to join the dancing pairs.

“...What was that?” Childe voices what’s been plaguing the minds of the attendees. “First the Commander appears to be a woman, and now she is married to the Lord Il Capitano?” He glances at Pulcinella, who joins his side and decides to watch the pair that caused a commotion have their fun. “Do they not use their names?”

“They find no sense in them,” the Rooster answers just the last question. “And,” he lowers his voice and the ginger has to bend down to hear the next words, “I didn’t tell you that, but the Captain really loves calling her his wife. So be quite cautious while seeking a fight with her. You might end up impaled. By either of them.”

Kaveh

With a soft smile you watch a group of children merrily leaving their classroom, interrupting each other in attempts to tell everyone how exciting the lesson was. They do not forget to grin and wave at you, passing by, and you return the sentiment, contently observing their happy faces and sparkly eyes.

Every time this happens, a strange sense of fulfillment overtakes you - supporting and sponsoring Kaveh was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. The greatest architect of nowadays is offering his guidance to the young generation, teaching them everything about beauty and practicality, helping them to develop their own creative vision, and at the same time boosting the confidence of kids of all ages. And you couldn’t be prouder of him.

Him, who meticulously prepares for every single lesson. Him, who is oh-so-gentle with his words and precise in his speech. Him, who teaches both Sumeru citizens and people coming from abroad. Him, who is as passionate about it, as he is about his designing job, telling you every single detail of how the lessons went on your way home or over the dinner. Him, who is happy and who makes you happy too with that fact alone.

When the last kid leaves, marking the ending of the final class for today, you glance at the clock. Now Mister Meticulousness will need half an hour to tidy up the classroom and put all the tools away. Tomorrow is free from classes at his (he always corrects your as in the both of you) school, so you can collect your stuff as well - after all, being the manager of this establishment and Kaveh specifically requires your presence. You can be strict and unyielding whenever he can’t and this partnership proves to be successful every day.

Just as you are writing down some financial staff, there is a soft knock on the doorframe. Immediately lifting your eyes you hum, observing a very good-looking woman and a boy, shyly holding onto her hand.

“Hello, how can I help you?” With a quill laid on top of your accounting book, you stand and round the table, offering the two to step closer.

“Ah, hello, miss…” eyes with long, pretty lashes flit to the name tag attached to your clothes, “...Y/n. This is master Kaveh’s artistic school, am I correct?”

“Yes, you are. Are you here to sign your boy up for a class?” You offer her son a sweet smile and he answers you with a small lift of his lips.

“Mhm. You see, he is a big fan of master Kaveh and his works - can study the pictures of his designs taken by Kamera day and night.”

At that, the boy lowers his gaze and blushes a little, digging a hole in the ground with the tip of his shoe.

“Oh, really?” A gasp that escapes your chest is one of excitement. “That’s marvelous! I am sure your hopefully soon-to-be-teacher will be very interested in hearing your opinion of his works, young connoisseur,” he giggles, lifting his eyes at you again, and there you see undisguised delight. “Oh, but my bad, I didn’t ask your names…”

The woman’s lips bare two rows of perfectly white teeth as she smiles at you, introducing herself and her son.

“We are from Fontaine actually. But my parents wanted to spend some indefinite period of time in Sumeru for their health and we decided to join them. So while we are here, I thought I’d make my son’s dream come true.”

“That’s so nice of you,” you can’t help but admire her a little for that. “I can tell you first a little about our school, you’ll ask all the questions you need to, and then I’ll show you around. Kaveh should be done with cleaning by then, so there’s a big chance you’ll even talk to him personally.”

“Really!?” That’s the first time throughout your entire interaction when the boy opens his mouth and actually makes a sound. “Master Kaveh is here right now?”

“He is. But can’t promise a long conversation - there are still blueprints waiting for him back at home.

“Ah, right… He is the great architect after all,” the woman hums, staring to the side as if in thought. “Between the commissions he takes and this school he must be making good money. Not to mention so handsome…”

Oh… What a familiar tone, what a familiar look in those eyes. Suddenly that ounce of respect you felt for her disappears.

“Money is irrelevant to him as long as he reaches his goal,” is your restrained response. 

“Ah, of course! Handsome, sweet, kind, good with kids and is not a snob. Sweety, you ought to charm him for me!” She pinches her son’s cheek. “Imagine Master Kaveh as your daddy!”

Oh Archons, again?

There is absolutely no doubt that the light of Kshahrewar is not only well-known and popular among kids, but is thirsted after by women. In a half of a year your school has been existing, there were numerous times when moms of little students made comments alike or some single females trying to schedule private sessions with the architect. What a sagacious decision it was to make group studying only, it saves you some drama, once the legal document is shown. Though there are exceptionally persistent examples…

But this time you pity the kid a little, because he genuinely seems to admire Kaveh. And his next words make you internally cheer for the little guy.

“Master Kaveh as my dad? But mom, I have a dad already,” the boy pouts, rubbing at the pinched cheek. You notice a red mark and two little crescent moons that her nails left on a tender skin. “I love him and don’t need another one.”

“Sweety, you just don’t understand how great it would be to have such a dad! Just trust my word-”

“Ahem, Madame, I kindly ask you to deal with your family affairs once you are out of here. As for the school - I am open for discussion.”

The displeased way she glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed, but you do not show it anyhow, calmly staring back at her, while your hand reaches up to your chest. As if finally remembering her initial reason for coming here with her son, the woman sighs and puts a palm on the boy’s shoulder.

“Of course, miss- I’m sorry I forgot your name…” And her eyes flit to the name tag again.

Momentarily the woman squints from the light reflecting on the metal, and when she blinks the bright spots away, there is a beautiful golden ring on your hand. The hand that is holding the flipped tiny plate with just two words engraved in it.

"Kaveh's wife"

With widened eyes she stares back at your sweetly polite smile. Not saying a word as if letting the notion sink in, you walk to the wall. Grabbing the backs of two chairs you drag them to your table so they could sit, and take your rightful place in front of them. 

“If you are here for something aside from or instead of signing your son up for classes, I believe my name should be irrelevant to you. My status though,” you knock a nail twice on the badge, “must. So… what are you here for, Madame?”

The boy climbs onto his chair right away, while his mother tarries a little, still shocked by the revealed fact and your suddenly changed demeanor. She needs a couple more seconds to compose herself, but eventually she too sits down.

Despite what happened earlier, your conversation proves to be fruitful and fifteen minutes later you are showing around the school, sharing some additional information and answering every single of the kid’s questions. 

When in the last room you find your husband, closing Mehrak and looking ready to leave, the boy lets out a gasp. The sound attracts the man’s attention, and he turns to the three of you with a soft smile.

“Oh, hello there, little guy!” The blond waves at him, breaking the blissful stupor of a child that immediately turns red and hides behind his mother. Surprised, Kaveh looks at you for explanation but, instead, takes notice of your name’s replacement. Oh wow, this again. What was the last time you did that? Two weeks ago?

“Ah, Master Kaveh!” The woman charmingly smiles, batting her lashes at him, which would’ve made you cringe had it never happened before. “You see, my son-”

“Pardon me, Madame, give me a moment,” the male softly interrupts her and reaches for a similar metal plate on his chest with his own name to flip it. It’s almost comical how sour the temptress’s face got in a second.

And there is what for. Now two words are proudly matching yours, engraved in an equally beautiful cursive to remind the world who the two of you become once stripped of your names.

Just his ”Y/n’s husband” to your “Kaveh’s wife”.

And like that one more kid takes part in your lovely school and one suitor less is after one of its founders.

Tighnari

With each passing day of your team’s research in the desert you found it harder and harder to control yourself. Some days you were even on the verge of clawing and biting, tail and ears twitching in annoyance and pupils turning into wild slits, making your hybrid nature more obvious.

Was it because of the research? No, it couldn’t be farther - your colleagues have been making so much progress, heeding your advice and following your lead. Was it the location perhaps? A little, but you learnt how to deal with heat and dryness. Was the process taking too much time? On the contrary, you are on your way home already, having finished the job 4 days earlier than you estimated in the beginning.

Then what on earth could possibly trigger you like this?

Well…

“Hey, forest foxy, want me to catch the Consecrated Flying Serpent for you?”

Ah yes, him.

Never again will you trust the higher ups at the Akademiya to sponsor your team with the bodyguards. Out of every possible candidate, your Herbad-titled colleague concluded that hiring five descendants of Valuka Shuna would be a marvelous idea. 

“They are the desert kind - they’ll be good guides.” “Look how much stronger they are, they’ll definitely protect all of you.” “They are of the same kind as you, Y/n. Don’t you think it’ll be easier for you, as the leader, to have someone akin with you?”

No, it absolutely would not!

Desert fennec hybrids are different from the forest ones - and it’s not even the case of your green and their sandy brown fur or their more brutal physique against your more delicate one. It’s their character and world perception. You’ll never call them barbarians, but they really developed more of the animal nature than your kind did.

And from day one it was a pain in the butt. 

One of your five new bodyguards was clearly the leader - he was bigger and broodier, with more scars littering his body, and his whole stance was screaming of a higher position. When you were introduced for the first time, something lit up in his grayish eyes, which were looking you over appreciatively. You ignored that, more focused on the discussion of the upcoming expedition and making sure the five were aware of what was required of them.

Luckily they were, and, admittedly, they did fulfill their task meticulously, proving to be great help. If only one of them wasn’t so diligent.

You lost count of how many times the leader tried to get into your personal space and you had to move away. Of the numerous invitations to hunt together. Of the endless displays of his strength and abilities. Of the many conversations you didn’t even try to eavesdrop on (they talked pretty loudly) around the topic of when will your shell be cracked and you’d accept the male’s courting attempts.

The answer was obvious, but he just never got it. Even when you called him for a serious conversation on the turning-into-an-issue matter.

“With all respect I must ask you to stop with whatever you’ve been doing to woo me. I have a husband.”

You still remember how he blinked at you dumbly, clear lack of understanding written on the sun-kissed face.

“...and?”

“The heck do you mean ‘and’?”

“Well, you don’t have a mate?”

It was your turn to stare at him speechless, ear twitching and tail curling closer to your legs. It was getting worse than just ridiculous.

“If we are speaking in such terms, then my husband is my mate. So, please-”

You nearly gasped when the male immediately leant closely, violating your personal space and practically stuffing his nose against your neck. Shocked by such lack of shame, you lost the ability to talk or move for a moment, gaping at him sniffing around and humming upon the discovery.

“You don’t wear anyone’s smell on you.”

You were not proud of yourself at that moment, but you absolutely lost it. Sharpened claws dug into his chest and with an angry snarl you pushed him back.

“Get away from me!”

You must’ve been a sight - canines bared and fingers twitching, ready to attack; fur standing on both your ears and tail, signaling your distress and eyes slitted in pure rage while directed at the man in front of you. The worst part? The idiot seemed to like it even more.

“What me and my partner do must be of no concern to you. I told you ‘no’ and I mean it.”

But bold of you was to assume he’d stop. Oh no, it’s gotten worse. Now he was actively calling you a ‘forest foxy’, absolutely abandoning your name and even trying to scent you. It was suffocating - the desert aridity was lighter in comparison to the male hybrid’s pheromones. 

Never in all your academic practice have you wanted to return home so badly.

Fortunately, your colleagues quickly caught on to what was going on and always helped you to escape the unwanted interactions. Plus they were equally as mad as you were, because his individual scent irritated their human noses - and that was the main reason why you and Tighnari, both spending a lot of time around other people, did not practice it. Partly, you are sure, this whole situation was the reason for your earlier return - and you were grateful for their understanding.

However, your stubborn suitor did not dream of giving up. Killed desert animals were still offered to you, stories of his legendary battles with monsters were told for the hundredth time (even though no one was interested in listening at that point) and attempts to lure you with the musky smell once again made. Archons, and the green-furred fennec girls from your teens used to dream of that.

Maybe Lesser Lord Kusanali would be merciful and you’ll meet your husband somewhere on your way?

“Herbad Y/n!”

…wow, that was quick. Not Tighnari, but incredibly welcome too.

“Collei!” For the first time in days there is a reason for your soft smile. Which the young girl mirrors, waving at you from not so far away. You notice a couple more of the Forest Rangers at her side, and that sight alone makes you finally exhale in relief. You are so close to being home.

“Master is here too! Want me to get him?”

Oh, Dendro Archon, thank you.

“I’d really appreciate it, dear!” With a quick nod the green-haired apprentice disappears in the bushes, and you turn back to the scholars of your group. It’s time to abuse your power a little. “We are almost at the Devadaha Pool. Since all of you live in Sumeru City I hope you’ll excuse me for staying behind. As for you five,” your gaze moves to the bodyguards and it’s so hard not to rejoice - soon they’ll be just a memory, “I ask you to accompany the rest of my team to the Akademiya. Then you can consider your job done and be free. Keep the payment for the last three days that didn’t happen - think of it as a bonus for a good job.”

All but one eagerly nod and bid you farewell with wishes of getting home safely. And frankly speaking? You couldn’t care less for that one when you spot familiar and oh so dear big pointy ears with an intricate golden earring adorning one of them.

“Tighnari!” You didn’t want to sound so desperate, you really didn’t. But when those forest-like lovely eyes look in your direction, it becomes clear to you - the yearning has gotten unbearable.

“Y/n…” His smile is dazzling and the way his body immediately pushes to walk to you almost makes the memories of the last weeks’ events go away.

The key word - almost.

Someone grabs your elbow when you want to meet him halfway. Oh right, you already forgot about him.

“Let me go, you, imbecile!” And again you have to snarl and be rude, ripping your arm out of the strong hold and quickly darting into your husband’s embrace. The natural smell of the leaves, the flowers, the sweet and bitter concoctions he makes in his home laboratory, comfort you and your whole body goes nearly limp in his hold. It’s been weeks and you are tired of fighting with the brick wall - this time you want your lover to handle it for you.

“Y/n, my lotus, are you alright?” Gentle fingers comb through your hair and scratch at the base of your ears - a whole ass adult, that you are, wants to tear up. But you can only shake your head a no. “Has this man been bothering you?” This time it’s a yes. “I got you, dear.”

“So,” the browny green eyes sharpen upon staring at the cause of your current state, when it starts speaking, “you are that ‘husband’ the foxy has been talking about? I thought you’d be stronger. Or at least taller. Now I see that I was right and you really can’t be her mate.”

“Oh but I am. Not that we have to prove anything to a stranger. Y/n,” he carefully pries your face from his shoulder, caressing your cheek with a beanie pad, “let’s go home. You must be so-so tired.”

“I am, ‘nari. I am exhaus-”

“There’s no smell of you on her and vice versa,” the desert descendent of the Valuka Shuna seems to not be planning to stop. “Her neck is not marked. You let her wander by herself for weeks? And you keep calling her by the name. Her name should've stopped mattering once she became your mate!”

The hand around your waist tenses and you can feel the claws threatening to tear through the gloves he always wears. You don’t need to look at the face of your lover to know how pissed he is. And if Tighnari decides to attack him and tear his tongue out? You will not stop him.

“I am going to say it once and only once. She is not just a mate, she is my wife, by the Sumeru law and by the blessing of the Dendro Archon. And this fact must matter to you more than the case of her name. So fuck off and leave my wife alone. And if you don’t get it in a civil way - this woman is taken. And this territory is mine.”

With that, the Forest Watcher effortlessly lifts you in his arms and, holding you as if a precious bride, turns around to leave. You haven’t looked back once.

“You can’t imagine how much I missed being called your wife,” you quietly confess, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Especially after he didn’t listen when I said that I am.”

Tighnari hums sympathetically, leaning close to rub his nose against yours.

“Will it be okay then if today I address you as my wife only? When we join the other rangers, I mean.” 

”...if you think I will be embarrassed - make it a whole week.”

With a soft chuckle your husband plants a kiss on your lips, sealing the deal and promising you tranquil days at last.

“As you wish, wife.”

Zhongli

"...and so Rex Lapis takes the form of a dragon, a majestic creature he was born as - the one of whom the fair maiden would never be scared of. Lady Guizhong's robes flutter in the tender wind traveling among the mountain peaks and caressing the earthly scales of the God's enormous body. His eyes, shiny as gold, gaze at her with an unfamiliar softness as she holds a gentle flower - a delicate gift from her lover, the one that proves that under all that armor is a stone heart capable of love. Heart that is beating for her."

To loud applause the Iron Tongue Tian bows his head, drawing the legend of the gods in love to its end. You cannot bring yourself to clap even politely, both hands on your lap, hidden under the table, twitching when a man beside you lets his gloved palms meet each other a couple of times.

It’s the second time you had to sit and endure the baloney from the very beginning to the very end, not to count all those times you overheard it in passing. From the moment you settled in the Liyue Harbor together with your husband, to live the rest of your incredibly long lives together among the humans, you've been painfully aware of their interpretation of Rex Lapis and his relationship with other immortal beings. Before that you rarely accompanied him during the walks, busy with helping Yakshas and other adepti protect the said humans to grant them a peaceful life - as immortal guardians grew fewer, every single one counted.

Never have you ever imagined that knowing so little of the citizens’ folklore would backfire so hard. It seems that people got somewhat bored listening to the stories of Liyue and Rex Lapis, no matter how many interpretations existed. Literature became more diverse in genres and romantic novels were on top of the list, so street narrators started losing their audience little by little. Before it could grow into something more drastic the new side of history was presented to the public - stories about love among immortals appeared and its freshness and uniqueness caught people’s attention immediately.

In their searches for new material, speakers dug through hundreds of volumes. The main interest was the Lord of Geo, of course. If you have a story of a presumably stone-hearted creature ever having fallen in love with someone - that’s pure gold! But who could you present as a love interest of the Archon? It must be someone very close to him and, obviously, no one is more well-known for that than the deceased Archon of Dust.

You sigh, reaching for your cup and declining Madam Ping’s offer to pour you some more tea - for an unclear reason the fellow adeptus joined you two tonight. You have thousands of years of life behind your existence, a soul hardened by constant battles, and mannerism as polished as a jade statue, yet for a moment you feel concerned that the woman would notice a pang of hurt in the smallest of your features.

Zhongli definitely noticed the first time. It was meant to be a date night - simple, but sweet, with the evening lights, delightful aroma of the finest tea and the tales pouring from skilled tongues reflecting the atmosphere of what your nation really is. However, the luck of the land of trades wasn’t on your side, as someone requested the “Guili legend” as they called it. At first you were confused. Then in disbelief, almost turning to look at your mate, with whom you were bonded long before he became allies with the ash-haired woman. In the end you felt something you thought was beyond you - bitterness.

When you left the restaurant, slowly walking back to your house, Zhongli’s fingers gently touched your elbow, asking for your attention.

“Does it bother you that much, my love?”

Bother you? Well… It does feel insulting when someone speaks of your husband having been in love with someone else, but mortals can’t possibly know the truth for many reasons.

“I can’t say it doesn’t,” you admitted calmly, stopping and turning fully to him. He did the same, gazing at you with a hint of worry in those golden eyes you loved so much. The ones, you knew, always looked only at you. “But it can’t be helped, right? There was a reason and mutual agreement why you, as Rex Lapis, made our union unknown to your people, and now, since you are “dead”? There is no one to tell our story. Don’t worry though,” you put a hand on top of his and smiled, when his other one was laid on top of yours in a gesture of comfort. “I can deal with it. I know you love going to the storyteller’s performances. I’ll just try to ignore what they say about you and Lady Guizhong.”

Sometimes Zhongli thinks he does not deserve you. Ever so patient and understanding, you always had your husband's best interest at heart. Marriage, however, in its basis is a form of a contract, and a good contract is all about both sides being equal in everything. And if you must know one thing about Rex Lapis - he never makes bad contracts.

When the audience calms down, the man decides to make his presence and intentions clear by raising a hand. From the corner of his eye he notices you slightly turning your head to glance at him, and he catches a glimpse of puzzlement in your gaze. He can't help but think how adorable you are, even if you deny it again and again, claiming that nothing can be adorable about a several millennia-old warrior. Maybe not, but his wife definitely is, and he thinks with a primordial pride igniting in his chest, that mating with you was the best decision his past self had ever made.

Reaching under the table he rests his free hand on top of yours, gently squeezing it in reassurance, offering you the warmth of himself, seeping through his glove. Just as your shoulders relax to his delight, the raised hand adorned with rings is finally noticed.

"Ah, Mr Zhongli! Such an honor to see a regular, especially someone as wise as yourself!" Iron Tongue Tian beams with a wide smile, closing his fan and focusing his full attention on the history connoisseur. "I doubt you have questions, given your vast knowledge, and I can't wait to hear what else you can add to this already heart-felt story."

You force your lips not to twitch, hiding behind the tea cup again. Suddenly it tastes bitter. But another squeeze your husband gives your hand doesn't let you dwell on it too much.

"You are correct, I do have some knowledge to offer. However, it might disappoint you, as it will completely destroy the story of the Geo Archon and the Archon of Dust."

The whispers ran through the crowd like a powerful wave, and you can see confusion written over every single face. But also, there is intrigue.

"I took it upon myself,” Zhongli however continues, “to invite Madame Ping to back up my story, as she was the witness to it," the elder woman - a well-known Adeptus that doesn't hide her existence among mortals - nods with a soft smile.

"I read this in legends a long time ago, but remembered only when the 'Guili legend' became popular. Rex Lapis indeed had a lover, however it was not Lady Guizhong," the gasps are almost deafening. Just as your quickened heartbeat.

And for the next hour the man by your side and the elderly-looking woman that joined you tonight proceed to tell the story of the adeptus, who was the first and only to ever bring the Geo Archon to his knees, to be worshiped like a goddess by his eyes, by his words, by his very heart. Of a warrior, whose fierce eyes and valiant nature made a dragon in Rex Lapis roar in delight. Of the woman, who entranced him with her beauty, caring soul and motherly attention directed to other adepti - Madame Ping adds with a laugh of how the two created a parent-like dynamic even before they became official (at that you find it so hard not to turn bashful).

They tell the legend of the silk flowers - the ones you might see everywhere in the vast lands of Liyue. How the Geo Archon personally asked the Dendro Archon for guidance to cultivate the tenderest of flowers, how he taught his people to make the delicate fabric out of it, but even then it couldn’t compare to the skin of his immortal mate.

They tell stories of how annoyed she was when the god turned into a dragon to fall asleep somewhere in the depths of the earth for years without telling her prior, and how he returned with the purest stones and metals and with his own hands forged the pair of matrimonial rings (yes, the ones wrapped around your fingers to this day).

Madame Ping fondly speaks of all those thousands of years of protection the said adeptus spent to make sure that her godly spouse’s people were safe and maybe just a tiny sliver of pride rushes through your heart at the public acknowledgement.

“But she wished not to be known,” the woman sighs and you know she glances at you reproachfully. Well-deserved, given the circumstances you are in right now. “Thus it’s not much of a surprise people made a mistake like that. Besides, you won’t find much information in written sources about her either way.”

 “But she must have a name at least!” Someone from the fairly grown crowd exclaims.

“That she does,” Zhongli nods, lacing his fingers with yours under the table, lips tugging in a calm smile, when you squeeze his hand in return. “Though I am afraid it would be pointless to try and find out now - we wouldn’t want to disturb her mourning the departure of her husband, would we? After all, they must’ve loved each other so much.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

“Because,” golden eyes are on you, catching yours, pulling you in, whispering for your soul and heart to get lost in them, “I can understand how this love was born and got to bloom. My wife showed me that.”

[thetriumphantpanda]

be my Venus of the stars | general marcus acacius

Summary | He's been visiting you for months, fresh off the battlefield, to be cleaned and reborn, but this time, something is different, this time, he might finally touch you back.

Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.8K

Warnings | Set in a bath-house, it is suggested that reader is a sex worker, The General™️ is dirty and needs a bath, as historically accurate as I could make it, use of Latin terms of endearment, explicit smut, handjob, fingering, oral sex (f), unprotected PiV, creampie, marking during sex, mention of ancient roman methods of.... not getting pregnant, no use of y/n, reader is a blank slate but does wear a dress.

Authors Note | Listen, I know we know literally nothing about this man, but what I do know is that he looks like a needs a bath and a nice lady to help him destress... so here we are. Leave it to the archaeologist to fall head over heels for the roman general, right? Whilst my ancient archaeological interest has always been Greece, you best believe this is right up my street. We won't talk about the amount of academic papers I read to make this as historically accurate as possible. I hope you love this, and if you do, please consider reblogging, commenting and screaming with me in my ask box!

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Divider by the ever wonderful @saradika

He’s weary, his body drooped from the weight of his armour, but you suspect there are other things that are weighing him down too.

He’s been gone a while, sent away to some far-fought battle, never knowing if the view of his back when he leaves will be the last you ever see of him or not.

As he always does, he drops a coin purse onto the table, sliding it across to the bathhouse owner, before he turns, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Always you, only you, he’s never paid attention to anyone else in this damned place and he never will. His face is covered in dust, dirt and grime, his clothes in no better shape - you know you have your work cut out for you, but you find that when it’s him, you don’t mind at all.

It’s a familiar dance, how he follows a few steps behind you, the clinking of armour filling the hallway as you lead him to the private bath. You do as you always do, and open the door, letting him move inside as you let the door click shut behind you.

The hour is late, candles the only source of light, the sounds from the street below filling the silence as you ready the water for him. Warmed already, you drop a few rose petals into the water and pick out the oil you know he likes. It strikes you then that he’s not undressing, something he normally does himself. Instead, he stands at the window, staring out into the darkness.

“It is ready, sir.” You speak softly, motioning your hand to the bath when he turns around.

“Come,” he all but whispers, “Help me.”

You step closer, following his lead as he starts to undo whatever straps keep his heavy armour in place, dropping his hands when he knows you’ve got the hang of it. You take it off, piece by piece, setting it gently on the ground until he’s just in the under layers he wears.

Night is falling, and the candles in the room and the orange light from outside bathe him in gold as he motions for you to do the rest. Your hands, trailing up his body, lifting the tunic he’s wearing under his armour, over his head. There’s a hiss of pain as he lifts his arm, then a sigh of relief his tunic is gone, and it’s at this moment, that you realise he hasn’t stopped looking at you.

This man, born and bred for the fight, with brown eyes softer than you’ve ever seen staring down at you as you undress him.

“You can touch me.” You offer.

You look at him, eyes through eyelashes, as his roam across your body, draped in cotton and pinned in just the right place to accentuate every inch of you - it was a gift from a wealthy customer many years ago, a traveller who had taken to you, promised to take you with him but left you with nothing but a nice dress.

He goes to reach out, but stops short of touching the material, “It is such a pretty dress,” he muses, stepping back from you to let the final garment he’s wearing drop to the floor, “I must bathe first.’

You aren’t shy in the way you look at him, you’ve seen him without clothes more times than you care to admit, you’ve touched him, made him sigh, made him cum more than once, but he’s never once reached out to you. But there’s something different tonight, something charged, and as he walks towards the bath, muscles in his back rippling as he does, you wonder if tonight might be the night you finally know what it is to be touched by him.

He lowers himself into the warm water, groaning as he settles his back against the metal, warm from the water and from the fire lit to keep it that way.

You do as always and kneel beside it, picking up the small bowl on the table next to you. You scoop some water into it and let it drain across his curls, his head tipped back because he knows this dance. Fingers run through his wet hair, freeing his locks from the weeks of dirt and sand and blood and fight, until the water runs clear.

Then, you move onto his body. It’s arguably your favourite part, letting your hands run across his skin. He rests his arms on the lip of the bath, a well-rehearsed dance now, and lets your pour the scented oil onto his skin. You massage it in, thumbs digging in where his armour has left marks, easing weeks of tension with firm presses. You use the strigel to scrape the oil and the dirt off until his skin is clean.

Only once you have used your hands to rinse him off do you consider moving lower. You always do, run oil soaked hands up and down his legs under the water, feel his muscles tighten when you drag them higher, which is how it always ends up with your firm hand wrapped around his cock. Your fingers dip below the water but his strong fingers grip at your wrist as they go to drift lower to his legs.

You let him guide your hand, your eyes meeting his own chocolate-brown orbs, which are blown wide and dark, as he shows you what he really wants. No preamble this time, as your fingers meet the skin of his semi-hard length.

“I haven’t finished.” You purr at him, letting your fingers close around him anyway.

“I find I don’t care,” He speaks back, tone low, “I have been gone for weeks, this is all I want.”

You watch as his head tips back and his body lowers into the water when you start the languid pumps of your hand up and down his cock, gripping tighter when you reach the tip, loosening when you move down. You’ve seen him for years, you know how he likes it, slow to start with, faster to bring him over the edge.

There’s something different this time though, of all the years he’s seen you, he’s never once touched you, only ever a tight grip on your arm as he comes, or a drag of his thumb across your cheek when he leaves. His grip tightens around your wrist enough to still your movements, then, he’s dragging your hand away. You wonder for a moment if you’ve done something wrong, until he shifts and stands.

You’ve seen him without his clothes enough times to know every dip of his body, ever mark and scar that he’s accumulated, but as he stands now, water dripping from his skin, cock hard and heavy in front of you, he looks nothing short of God-like. All the statues in all of Rome could never compare to this man in front of you.

Standing from your place on your knees, you watch as he steps from the bath, water pooling on the floor as he walks towards you. He lets a hand drape across your waist, palm flat against your back as he pulls your body to his own, wet skin against dry garments, head dipped so his mouth is a whisper away from your own.

“Tell me I can,” He asks, “I want to kiss you.”

You let your hands entwine at the back of his neck, wet curls locked between fingers, so you can drag him closer to you. When his lips finally meet yours, all the years of wondering what it was like prove worth it. They’re chapped, dry from whatever battlefield he’s been within, but it’s perfect, as they slant across yours and he pulls your body tighter to his own. He’s gentle, unlike other men, his tongue is tentative as it drags across your bottom lip, mouth opening against your own as his tongue melds with yours behind your teeth.

There is movement that you only register at the last moment, when the backs of your knees hit the bed in the corner of your room. You tumble down upon it, lying and watching as he watches you, fist tight around his own cock as you start to undrape your dress from your skin. His eyes rove across your body when you finally reveal yourself to him, spreading your legs for him, letting your hands cup your breasts.

“You do this for everyone?” He asks quietly, settling himself between your open legs, his cock resting against your mound.

“Maybe,” You respond, “But you’re the only person I want to do this for.”

“Do they treat you well?” He murmurs, laying his body across your own, the weight on him on top of you making your cunt pulse.

“Some do, some don’t.” You shrug, cupping his face with your hands.

“Any of them make you come?”

You shake your head against the bed, “They come here for their own pleasure, sir.”

“My pleasure is your pleasure,” He whispers against your ear, “Tell me, has anyone ever kissed you here?”

One of his hands drags down your body, his hips lifted enough to let his hand cover your cunt.

“N-no,” You choke, the heat of his hand stifling against you, “They h-haven’t.”

“Would you let me?”

You nod, words failing you, as he lets his mouth drag down the naked skin of your body until his broad shoulders are settled between your thighs, pushing them apart, spreading you obscenely wide for himself.

His mouth is hot as it kisses the skin of your pussy, soft feather-light touches to every inch of skin. His thumbs pull your folds apart, baring every intimate inch of you to him, and then it’s all ecstasy as that wonderful mouth clasps around the bundle of nerves that you know so intimately of yourself, but others seem to forget.

It makes you buck your hips into his mouth, pressing further into the feeling of absolute bliss as the tip of his tongue flicks fast and then slow across it in undeterminable patterns. One of his hands splays across your stomach to keep you still, as he switches from the tip of his tongue to the flat. You can hear the slurping from between your legs, can feel your slick leaking from your cunt at his ministrations, the moans he lets out when his tongue dips lower to taste you - he’s enjoying this just as much as you are, a man committed to making you feel good before anything else.

There a knots twisting in your stomach, a fire that you know only from your own hand spreading across your lower body, you’re close, and you think he knows it too.

He brings his mouth back to your clit, lips enveloping it whole as he sucks it into his mouth, rolling his tongue across it as you feel two of his fingers slip inside your wet cunt, curling upwards almost immediately.

“Gods,” you breathe out, letting fingers tangle in his quickly drying hair, “I’m- oh fuck - so close.”

He continues just as he is as your body starts to convulse. Your eyes clamped shut, sweat pooling in crevices you didn’t know you had, until his tongue flicks just right and you’re snapping, coming undone. Body arched into his mouth as your cunt clamps tight around his fingers, as pleasure bursts across every inch of your skin. His tongue doesn’t let up until you whimper quietly that it’s too much, chest heaving and vision blurry.

His body clambers atop yours once more, hot skin against hot skin, his lips at your neck as he fumbles between your bodies, hand guiding his heavy, hard cock to nudge at your leaking centre.

“Tell me it’s okay,” he breathes against your skin, “Tell me I can have you like this.”

You moan, hips moving upwards into his own, heavy arms wrapping around his neck, “I’ve wanted this for so long,” you whine, feeling the tip of his cock right where you want it, “Please,” you beg, “Please, put me out of my misery.”

One of his hands grips your chin, turns your face to his. He’s so close, his eyes burning with lust you’ve never seen before, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Look at me,” he begs, shaking your head a little when you close your eyes at the feeling of him starting to push inside, “I want to see you when I do this.”

So you do, eyes open and boring into his own as he slips his cock into you. He’s big, bigger than you think you’ve had before, your mouth drops open as he slowly feeds every inch of himself into your cunt, stilling and sucking in his breath when he can go no further.

“I have dreamt of this,” he speaks softly as he drags himself out of you, “Wondered what you would feel like,” then he pushes back in, all at once this time, “It is nothing like I imagined.”

His face is buried in the crook of your neck now, his hips pulling back only to push back in again, tip of his cock brushing against that spot inside you that makes you keen, fingernails digging into his arms as you hold on.

“Is it better, General?” You ask in his ear, “Am I all your dreams come true?”

He answers with a hard thrust of his cock, causing a shrill shriek from your throat as the tip bruises at the very depths of you.

“It is everything I wanted and more, carrisima.”

He pushes himself back from you, cock still buried deep, and gathers your legs, hooking them over his arms before he presses forward again, bending your body in a way you know will make you ache tomorrow.

His hips pull back, before the slam back into you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, as he sets a pace that you’re not even sure the God’s could keep up with. The room filled with nothing but the sounds of his skin slapping against yours, the wet squelch of your cunt sucking him in on every thrust, and the hot pants and moans from the two of you.

You let your arms reach around, palms against the toned muscles of his ass. You squeeze and dig fingernails into skin on each bruising thrust, head thrown back to let him press forward enough to suck at your neck, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. No-one but him would get away with marking you.

“I’m close,” he manages to choke out, “Tell me I can fill you.”

You’ve waited too long to feel him like this to deny him. You would go to the healer in the morning for a cyreniac balm, but all you wanted right now was to feel him claim you, to make you his in every possible sense.

“Fill me, General,” you moan, “Let me feel you, please.”

It does take long, his hips faltering, stilling into your on one final thrust. He growls into the night air, his cock throbbing within you, the feeling of his seed painting your walls makes you hungry for more. He collapses on top of you, softening cock still deep inside you, as you wrap your arms around him, run comforting fingers through his hair as he recovers his breath.

Finally, he slips himself from your heat and rolls onto his back, dragging you with him to drape across his chest, one hand on your lower back, the other placed atop yours on his chest.

“I go back to war soon,” he speaks quietly, mouth pressed to your forehead, “I-“ he stutters for a moment, “I’m not sure I will make it back this time.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to his jaw, “You are lucky, Sir,” you speak, “I think the Gods look upon you.”

“I feel a premonition,” he explains, “I couldn’t go back without knowing what it was to have you.”

You move the hand you have on his chest to entwine your fingers with his own, “You must come back, I cannot live without you now I know you like this.”

He smiles a little, shifts the two of you so you are both led on your sides looking at each other. His big palm traces down your side, resting at your hip.

“I will try, mea columba,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose, “But for now,” he rolls you gently to your back, fingers trailing back through your folds, slipping inside you, gathering his come and your slick on his fingers, dragging it up to circle your clit softly, “We must make the most of the time we have left together.”

[roseburning]

I feel like this fandom often forget how insanely WEALTHY this man:

Actually is. He's kinda rich, right? Wrong.

This cherry pie:

Is a MULTI-BILLIONAIRE. This would let him comfortably sit at Forbes 985th, ladies and gentlemen, that's the same net worth as Michael Jordan.

I know that he doesn't like to show off his money because his mother only cared about it and neglected him, and I know he's the one founding all the high tech gadgets for the X-Men + to the mansion and the planes.

However.

WHERE ARE ALL THE FICS ABOUT HIM SPOILING ROTTEN HIS BOYFRIEND?! not like Erik would accept it straight away, but I need them to talk about and Charles making sure Erik knows he's worthy it and that it's okay to accept love and gifts.

WHERE ARE THE FICS ABOUT HIM NOT HAVING A CLUE THAT MOST PEOPLE CONSIDER NORMAL ABOUT MONEY?! I'm sorry, as neglected you may be, there's no way you inherit 3,5 BILLIONS and has a realistic view on how most people handle money, let alone poor people. This man is the 1%, he's the rich that the liberals want to eat (erik, not like that-). He's self aware and he tries to police himself, but I need to see the reality checks every now and then. Besides, a lot of his students came from really shitty places and the class difference would be screaming sometimes.

ACTUALLY, NOT JUST ERIK, I NEED TO SEE HIM GIVING PEOPLE STUPIDLY EXPENSIVE GIFTS IN GENERAL. Sometimes just because he can and there's no reason why not, sometimes he doesn't realize it's that expensive, and then I digress to my previous point.

WHERE ARE THE SUGAR DADDY FANFICTIONS?!

There's also this website I found that claims he has 125 BILLION DOLLARS but I highly doubt that:

Ladies and gentlemen, that website was ranking characters from DC and Marvel, and they put him above Tony Stark (80 billion) and Bruce Wayne (100 billion). I have no idea where they took that information from, but that would make our adorable lab rat the 10TH MOST WEALTHY MAN on the planet as of 2024.

Omg, the subtitle got Erik's name wrong-

This was a Charles' bank account appreciation post, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

UPTADE: Guys, I found the perfect fanfic for it and I cannot recommend this enough. Downtown (everything's waiting for you) by so_shhy

Synopsis: “Charles is a rich CEO, Erik is a hooker with a heart of gold...

(In other words, Pretty Woman AU)”

Fun fact: I found that marvelous fanfiction while looking for “Charles Xavier being an asshole” tag.

[nymphea0]

His Youngest Wife

Yan! Count Lysander Albert x Wife Reader

Manhwa : Marronnier Farm Near by the Imperial Palace / Marronnier Farm Next to the Imperial Palace / 宮殿の隣のマロニエ農場 / 皇宮裡的馬洛尼埃農場 / 황제궁 옆 마로니에 농장 / My Farm by the Palace​

Author/Illustrations : Jung yeon / Ollcha(Art)

Manhwa : Fluff / Comedy / Fantasy Manhwa (17-18+).

Ilustrations Acount : ollcha🐥🕯

Count word : 1585 word.

HAPPY NEW YEARS MY DEARS🦋🎆. Is late but hope this years all our wishlist will be came true. this is the fic that i promised a few days ago, i hope you like old men like Lysander hahaha, he's so handsome, i can't hold back, and the fact the manhwa was warm slice of life genre and comedy, and all the chara was good and chef kiss! I think soons i will make other chara in this manhwa🤭, anyways, enjoy my story, i try my best to make it fluff but i guess is fail? Well, i hope you all have a happy new year, much love- Neva🦋🦋

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

.

.

.

In the Bratania Empire, a prosperous, wealthy and stable Empire. Led by Emperor Iskandar Lionslore Deon Alekto. A handsome young emperor aged 22 years.

Under the emperor's division. There are 4 holy knight commanders

Namely;

Commander of the Holy Wood Knight of the High Elf Family.

Commander of the Holy Flame Knight of the High Vampire 'Noble One.'

Commander of the Warbear Family Knight.

Last was Commander of the Holy Wind Knight of the Golden Cat Sith Family. A 19-year-old cat fairy boy.

But... there is one noble who is right beside the emperor, Count Lsyander Albert.

The man who holds the responsibility for the internal affairs of the imperial palace and is also the direct representative of all Pro-Commoners.

The man who has entered his thirties, unfortunately... does not have a wife.

The reason is quite simple, namely because he is too busy working and does not have time to think about household problems.

Until one day, here he was, standing in front of the emperor who was busy staring at the small hut, watching his farmer neighbor and saying ideas that didn't make sense to him.

"Your Majesty, I believe that the idea of ​​getting married at my age of 3 years old, is somewhat unethical"

Is, the emperor who was busy staring at his neighbor's house just snorted biasedly.

"Count. You know your age is no longer young, ethical or not, there is no prohibition for someone to marry, old or young as long as it is in accordance with the law"

Is looked at the count then patted the count's shoulder gently.

"Count, are you worry theres no one women want you?"

"Your Majesty?!"

Count Lysander stared in disbelief at the emperor's clear words.

As for Is? He just chuckled as he walked away leaving the order, which for Albert was very difficult.

"You have 2 weeks, Count, get married or you will take care of all the internal work of the empire"

The Count just sighed roughly, while thinking in his mind, where could he find a wife?

.

. .

For a week he searched for a wife, nobles, highborn ladies, even commoners to smallfolk he searched, but none of them fit his criteria.

Until entering the second week .. exactly one day before the 3rd week appeared. He met a woman, from a bankrupt noble family. A baron. A noble with a title but without power or wealth. His old heart beat fast as if he was drinking his favorite coffee even though he was drinking coffee, when he saw you he felt his life was in front of his eyes, he fell in love for the first time.

Working hard in a small grocery store, supporting himself. That woman is you, At first the count courted you in a normal and formal way. But you were too shy and always ran away when you saw him.

Until the count decided to use coercion, kidnapping you by force and marrying you by force.

.

.

You, a young woman who is only 20 years old, still single and has never had a boyfriend, struggling to make a living by running a small grocery store, suddenly a man who is already in his thirties seduces you, for you the man is handsome, of course, from the way he dresses to how neat his hair is, you know, this person is an insider of the emperor. A noble.

Even though you are also a noble, the title of baron that you inherited from your parents means nothing.

But here you are?! In a luxurious room that you are sure, even the bathroom is bigger than the dilapidated hut where you live!

Unfortunately you want to run away but can't, because the one who married you is none other than, Count Lysander Albert. The emperor's official aide as the person in charge of internal imperial affairs and also the representative of the common people.

.

.

Lysander, for the past 2 weeks has been observing his wife carefully, his wife who is so young and beautiful, different from himself who is old and looks more like a father than a husband.

During the day, Lysander did not dare to sleep in the same room or even touch you as the first night of the bride and groom. He felt very inappropriate to be with you.

Until one day, Lysander accidentally passed the garden in his residence. Seeing his beautiful and pretty wife, chatting friendly with several noble ladies there.

But the topic of their conversation was what made him silent and wipe his face.

Lady Istar and Lady Maurien. The two women openly spoke so brazenly and boldly to you.

"Lady... seeing how far your relationship with the count is, I do not expect more, the count is old lady. So lady do not be sad if the count cannot satisfy lady. That is normal, right lady Istar". Lady Mauren with sympathy made to pat your arm gently with fake sympathy.

"If I were you, I will certainly try my best to please the Count with my efforts, haa.. the Count is a perfect husband, even though he is old"

Meanwhile, Lady Istar, could only laugh awkwardly hearing Lady Maurien's bold words!.

"Thank you for your concern, Lady Maurien, but the issue of whether or not my husband is able to give me pleasure, that is my business, not yours. Excuse me"

You decided to leave the garden, arguing with the two noble ladies only drained your energy, for you, Lady Maurien's intentions were very clear. Jealousy, even though the Count was already in his 30s, his handsomeness had not faded at all, unmatched wealth, power equal to the emperor, even, being the emperor's father figure when he was little.

.

.

Tonight, you slept alone as usual, the room was this big. Even the husband who married you by force had not shown his face for the past 2 days. It had been 2 days since you had been married to the count.

You were on the balcony, enjoying the night view, only to be surprised by the door to your room being opened roughly.

Turning around, there you saw, your husband, Count Lysander Albert. With hair that was... quite messy and untidy as usual.

The distance between the room and the balcony was also not that far, you could smell the scent of his expensive musk mint cologne at night with the cold air.

"Wife"

His hoarse voice with a deep that makes your hair stand on end. Lysander, looking at you who is so beautiful tonight, you are always beautiful in his eyes, always and forever. With a simple white nightgown, loose hair that moves softly due to the night wind.

"Wife, do you think.. I am like what they say?"

The sudden question made you think deeply, who does your husband mean as "they"?.

"I don't understand what you mean, husband and-" before you could finish your sentence, you were cut off by him first.

"Old and impotent, can't give you pleasure because I'm old, do you think I'm like that?"

Lysander stood right in front of you, gently holding your chin so that you looked right at him.

"Did... husband hear the conversation in the garden?". You felt that you were walking between fragile ice, just asking the wrong question. It could be that your relationship with your husband who was already distant became even more distant.

"Just answer, yes or no"

With a low growl Lysander stared at me sharply.

"I don't-"

"Are you not sure?"

Roughly and frankly Albert quickly pulled your waist, pressing your lips gently to meet, soft and warm, Lysander expertly explored every inch of your mouth and teeth, making sure every corner remembered him.

Gently releasing your embrace, Lysander brought your foreheads together, speaking softly.

"Wife... I know, I forced you to marry this old man, you must not love me either, but my dear, allow me to love you, show you, that I am not just an old man, I am also not impotent my dear wife"

Lysander gently led you into the room laying you down on the bed gently.

"Allow me, to show you, how good I can make you feel good, make you pregnant, make you the mother of my children in the future"

Lysander kissed your forehead gently, down to your neck and kissed your neck passionately with full of love.

"My love, I will show you, how long I can rape you, cry or beg, don't expect me to stop before you pass out"

That night, lit by the full moon that was willing to peek from the window, illuminating the high and beautiful sky at night.

Lysander or people who knew him as Count Lysander Albert, the prime minister of law under the emperor directly, claimed so confidently his wife for the first time, carrying out their first night that they did not have time to do.

Just when you had passed out unable to keep up with the brutality of your husband Albert. Lysander just stopped, chuckled softly before kissing your forehead affectionately, cleaning your entire body with love until it was clean and putting on his clothes that were big enough for you.

Hugging you gently, Lysander looked at you with love. Lysander whispered softly in the quiet night.

"Sleep my wife, I love you, even if the world ends, I will look for you to the end of the world, my wife. My love"

.

.

.

Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Story.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

[ybklix]

𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧

★ lee minho

✦summary: You embark on an unusual night for you, as a companion to a wealthy stranger man with a cold countenance, a warm heart and a very hot form of affection.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / oral sex / spanking / hair pulling / chocking / ceo lee know x fem reader / non idol felix x fem reader / mention of sex workers, scort / sugar daddy

word count: 12.3k

Part 2 ᯓ★

(masterlist)

Money did buy happiness, you thought; if it did you would be in your mansion worth millions, you would use your money to buy contacts to get your dream job without having to sweat a drop and you wouldn't be standing there right now listening to the landlady, while she yells at you and reminds you how far behind you are in your payments.

It was humiliating and you had no other excuse to tell her, it was obvious she didn't give a shit how much you studied and worked at the same time and it still wasn't enough. She finally left, insulting you a couple of times and flattering herself for being a good person by letting you stay and giving you a space in a very rushed and busy city like this one, where millions of people are looking for a place to live every day.

You wanted to feel unashamed, carefree but you couldn't do it and everything was a thousand times more embarrassing when you were helping your best friend pack as she was moving to a new and better apartment. You knew Hari since you moved into the building three years ago, she was your neighbor and you were the same age so you two quickly liked each other... but the day had come, she was able to move on and was going to a nice place.

Hari watched the whole scene with a bit of sadness, knowing deep down what it felt like to go through exactly the same thing and hear the same old lady screaming. And, as she took one of her boxes to pass it to the mover she thought if after all this time it would be good to finally confess a secret to you… she was terrified of feeling judged but, she appreciated you too much that she really wanted to tell you.

You sighed without further ado, smiling and turning back to your friend.

“Hey, if you need…” Hari wanted to say but you interrupted her immediately.

“I'm fine, really.”

You stared at her and gave her a fake smile. It wasn't new that you hated asking for help and that people feel sorry for you, first it was your male best friend who stupidly is a millionaire and now your best friend who you were supposed to share economic pains. You felt that everyone was moving forward but you, but you didn't want to be seen as a poor girl in distress, it was what you hated the most even though you appreciate their gestures and words in your heart, despite that it's hard for you to take it, as well as thank them and…. express yourself.

“If you need anything you know you can count on m...?”

“On you and Felix, I know.”

You rolled your eyes trying to appear annoyed but you weren't, it was obvious, they always reminded you. And you were extremely grateful just at the thought that they cared about you. You were aware that one of the very good solutions was simply to start dating your rich best friend who you know likes you… but you weren't like that, unfortunately, you were too proud to accept easy money.

“You should give him a chance” Hari added.

“I think I'm fucked up enough to fall in love and add another worry.”

Felix was sweet, caring, attractive and incredibly wealthy, you met him in college as he was studying cinematography. And you were studying performing arts, actress, your biggest dream. Strangely enough, you and Felix connected instantly in a course where you coincided, and you got along very well forming a nice friendship; he had a big and pure heart and was not at all the typical brainless rich kid, however you were the opposite of him, reserved and a bit pessimistic about life and clearly… in some big and tight economic problems. You couldn't count the countless times Felix offered to help you financially, but you simply felt you were abusing the power of your cute and cuddly best friend.

He would offer you money, he would offer you one of his properties, all paid vacations, you knew it was every girl's dream and that if you told anyone other than Hari about all this, they would be sure to slap you and call you ‘stupid’ to your face. You recognized that he was all a dream come true and that was what you feared the most, that you might be a nightmare for him, your personalities were different and most of all, you felt so bad that you didn't have something to offer him; you felt it looked so wrong to be just him trying so hard even though you were trying twice as hard too and sometimes it seemed in vain.

Moreover, you were quite realistic and recognized well that guys like Felix, wealthy and from a long line of millionaire ancestors, a simple girl like you wasn't enough, and you could never end up with someone like him.

Hari laughed at your comment.

“Love isn't so bad... have you ever been in love?”

You looked at her perplexed, almost wanting to laugh in her face; Hari in love was a concept you didn't know.

“Have you?” you asked, emphasizing your shock.

Your friend just looked at you amused and continued her duty of clearing out her old home. She was nervous, she had a solution for you but wasn't sure if it was an option for you.

After a few hours of exhaustive work like moving your whole life to another place, both of you contemplated the completely empty apartment where you used to spend nights together having sleepovers. Hari sighed, ready to confess something no one else knew.

“Y/n” she spoke to you.

You made a sound indicating you were listening, but you weren't really, you couldn't stop looking at that wall, thinking about what you had to do as soon as possible to get extra money. Hari called your name again until this time she caught your attention, so you turned to look at her; she felt nervousness and wanted to swallow for a second, you furrowed your brow at her sudden strange reaction.

“If I tell you something, promise you won't judge.”

“Of course” you quickly answered without thinking, her behavior seemed odd, but suddenly you were so curious to know.

She looked at you with big eyes of ‘I'm serious’, while you returned the look more than obvious.

“What is it about?”

Hari took a breath, hesitant, and suddenly she had all your attention.

“Have you ever wondered how suddenly I get all this, finally moving, nicer clothes...?” she replied with another question.

You furrowed your brow and tilted your head a bit confused, not meaning to offend, but your friend's life wasn't something you were so concerned about since you saw her completely normal, it wasn't something to be alarmed about, every time you met she was still the same... you wondered if there was suddenly something you didn't notice and that you should feel like a bad friend about.

“Did you get a big promotion at your job...?” you speculated without an answer.

She smiled mockingly.

“There's someone” she finally spat out, unable to express it entirely.

You got excited, those words meant she was dating someone of whom you didn't know details and suddenly it excited you. You raised your eyebrows in surprise and turned your whole body towards her, looking at her straight ahead, enthusiastic.

“Oh my God, Hari, why didn't you...”

“Or something like that” she cut you off abruptly.

Again, you looked at her confused, this time waiting for her to start talking. Hari looked at the floor and finally said:

“I have someone who gives me money.”

Silence embraced you, you didn't know what to say so you just laughed incredulously letting out a little air, Hari quickly looked at you with her expressive eyes of ‘you promised not to judge’, so you hurried to say:

“A sugar daddy or something like that? Well… good for you, I guess.”

“I think you need one” she cut off your sarcastic comment so now you laughed out loud. “Being a companion.”

“No thanks, I have enough dealing with Felix and his specific complex” you scoffed.

“I think you're not getting it… I don't know how to explain it but, I can live my life for 5 years without working a single day.”

You were in denial and totally ready to continue to contradict and mock your friend until that comment caught you by surprise.

“Wow, well that's…” you closed your eyes deeply trying to process the kind of conversation you were having. “I think you're exaggerating a bit here…”

“No” she interrupted you again, “this is different, I think you reject Felix because you know him and… these are just unknown men willing to pay a lot of money.”

“Do you really think you can give that kind of power to a man, of just giving you money without him expecting anything in return?” you added without thinking.

Silence returned… and it was when everything made sense and you understood that Hari did give something in return. You didn't want to say it out loud, but suddenly your best friend was a prostitute; you were really surprised. You couldn't help but open your eyes in surprise. Hari felt the need to explain herself before feeling judged.

“They are really wealthy men, it's something really exclusive and selective, you can choose and…”

You dissociated and stopped listening for a second, did they have methods? What did she mean? Why would she believe in the first place that you would be part of something like that?

“And are you with someone or do you have multiple relationships…?” you interrupted her.

You had no idea why you cared about that, you weren't a saint to judge, but maybe it was just curiosity. Hari rolled her eyes annoyed.

“At first a few until I finally found someone, I’m telling you it's surprising what can happen; so far it's him, he gave me the apartment, he'll decorate it and-”

You closed your eyes again incredulously.

“He bought you the apartment? I thought you rented it.”

“I had to lie.”

“And what happens when your fantasy and money run out?” you said mercilessly.

Hari smiled, you were too honest and straightforward sometimes.

“Well, I don't think that will happen for a long time and… Chan and I reached an agreement that I could work in his company as much as I want, even if our relationship ends and he stops supporting me.”

“Oh, so he has a name and now you're dating.”

“It's complicated, I like him but it's obvious that guys like him don't end up with the poor girl like a a TV show.”

And with a hooker, you thought. At least you were grateful that after all the senseless chatter something with common reasoning came out of your friend's mouth. You really had nothing against what she was doing, it just took you by surprise.

Hari sighed.

“I know you don't believe me, but do you remember that time months ago when we went out to eat and jokingly I showed you the meager ₩50,000 in my bank account?”

You nodded, still perplexed and cautious about what she might show you now. Hari took her phone and in a few swift movements with her fingers, handed it to you, displaying on the screen an incredible amount that made you sigh just seeing it. You couldn't believe it. How was it possible for someone to have so much money? Why would they give it to Hari?

“I think it's dangerous, maybe it's just sex with strangers but in exchange for that ridiculous amount… I don't know, you shouldn't trust strangers like that.”

Hari opened her mouth, offended, as she took her phone back.

“It's not always sex, it's about companionship.”

You pursed your lips, unable to believe it; maybe for old men with erectile dysfunction, you thought, but somehow or another, they are men looking for something.

“I'm just giving you an option to give it a chance. It's a really exclusive app, you even send your data to be accepted; it also comes with details of the people offering money for you, how they are, how much, and you can reject them all, you're in control. Come on, y/n, desperate times call for desperate measures…”

“I wouldn't categorize it that way, no thanks, Hari, I'm not that desperate, and by the way, how did you find out?”

“I went to a party months ago and overheard a couple of unknown girls talking about it, it changed my life” she quickly checked her phone again. “I have to go, he came for me, but think about it, okay? Just out of curiosity, like I did until I saw a really impressive amount. Also, they specify if they want companionship or something more…”

You rolled your eyes annoyed, it was crazy, you thought that Hari could live anonymously but your dream was to be an actress, what were you supposed to do if they ever found out that you practically sold yourself. Both of you left the apartment and stood there in the hallway for a few seconds.

“Do you want to meet Chan?”

Your attention returned to your friend as soon as she said those words and confusedly you thought in your mind “who?” until you realized who she was talking about. You were curious, you expected an older man but you were surprised to see that shiny black luxury truck and inside of it, an attractive young adult driving, he looked no more than thirty, or maybe less than forty. You had descended all those floors to meet the person your friend was talking about with enthusiasm and you were too surprised.

Chan got out of the car as soon as he saw Hari and opened the passenger door for her.

“She's my friend, y/n” your friend introduced you.

“Pleasure to meet you” you shook hands.

You were in absolute surprise and denial, suddenly everything started to feel like just a fever dream. You felt the heavy gaze of your friend's ‘partner’ and for a second you wondered if he was really the guy who slept with girls for money or the chauffeur of the lucky handsome rich man.

You gave him a small smile and Chan quickly looked at Hari with complicit eyes, silently asking if you knew who he was in her life to which Hari almost reading his mind nodded softly.

“I'll see you another day, goodbye” your friend said goodbye with a strong hug which you were too astonished to reciprocate.

And they both left, leaving you standing on the cold pavement of the parking lot with your thoughts floating.

You returned to your apartment with a million questions, questioning almost your existence. Imagining the possibility of getting into that silly app, you thought for a second that Hari must have had the greatest luck in the world to get the only handsome man in the whole system, whom you wouldn't be disgusted to sleep with even for a second. You thought if you really should pay attention to Felix, fall in love with him, live with him… but you shook your head vigorously to dismiss that idea, it was almost impossible not to fall in love with him but you didn't feel bitchy and cynical enough to take advantage of his love and money at the same time. You knew it was cruel and that he should be looking for someone because you understood each of his signals, and it was obvious that he was crazy about you but among the boring and miserable life you led, his attention was the only thing that kept you motivated.

You couldn't sleep and little by little you convinced yourself more, sex with a stranger? It shouldn't be so bad, having the same amount of money as Hari? it was such a bright dream for you. You could pay off your debts, look for a better place, and free yourself from the visit of the little witch every week. Now you were curious… if it was really reliable and if all your information was highly confidential.

You didn't even check the time and sent Hari a message: «How high security are we talking about in that app?» She replied «I'll tell you everything tomorrow» you noticed your friend's excitement when you realized how quickly she responded.

Until the next day arrived and after work you visited her new and remodeled apartment. It was unreal, you were breathless, the beautiful view and large windows, the harmony of its decoration, it was so bright to be true that if you managed to have money in this situation that you were about to get into, you wanted to keep it realistic, you were afraid that from one day to the next, you would have nothing, so changing your life drastically without having a fixed support was not an option for you, it wouldn't be something long term, just something to get you out of your soon predicament.

They sat on the couch in her spacious living room which was almost the size of your entire apartment.

“Do you want me to manage your account just to verify the data and all that?”

You nodded, you weren't sure what you were about to do, but there you were.

“Okay, all your data is done, they'll send you an e-nail confirmation and let you know if you've been selected to enjoy the app's services. So…”

You swallowed, watching as they wrote all your data to a strange email, your name, date of birth, occupation, your measurements, your physical appearance, number of sexual partners, if you've had any STDs and attach evidence that you're 100% clean, history of alcoholism and smoking…

“I think it's illegal for them to ask for so much data.”

“Don't worry, it'll be worth it.”

“Are you sure I won't end up in… some dark business?” you whispered the last sentence, terrified and nervous.

“Noo, you'll get all the data from the men who want to hire you, even their address while yours is never exposed.”

“I don't know, Hari, men naturally lie.”

Hari chuckled softly, sensing your nervousness.

“I'll put up a picture of you and send it, and…”

“Wait, what?”

“I sent it” she looked at you proudly. “It can take 24 to 48 hours to respond.”

Hours passed, and you were heating up your dinner when a call from Hari interrupted your time.

“You got approved, it was really fast. I'll come to see you.”

She hung up, and you took your food out of the microwave totally bewildered. An hour later, amid the serene night with little rain, your friend appeared at your door with a big smile.

“Why are you so excited? I'm literally about to sell my vagina to wetpussy.com.”

Hari laughed.

“But that will make you a millionaire overnight.”

“Mm” you expressed in disgust and let her in.

“I can't believe it was so fast, they really want you. You have the option to put your real name or a fake one, your real name you can only give if you want.”

“Please, a fake one.”

You were really regretting it.

“What name should I put you?”

“I don't know, just not mine.”

“Cheryl, like darling in French” she wrote with a smile “…except I need pictures…”

“Come on, I sent you the best ones.”

“I know, and you look spectacular, but there's an option where the money goes directly to your bank account once they unlock the function to see your photos…”

You felt like she didn't finish the sentence and you were a little annoyed by the situation, it irritated you to know that you had to do this, well, you didn't have to, and no one was forcing you, but you decided to do it.

“And?”

“They're spicy photos.”

“Absolutely not, is it necessary to do that?”

“Your face can't be seen, and the money goes directly to you. Every time someone opens the option, you get paid ₩10 million, well, it depends on how much the app values you.”

You were in denial until you almost regurgitated your dinner.

“That's an absurd amount.”

“I told you I wasn't joking, I didn't know what they were based on but according to Chan, they're based on dollars or something like that, so for them, it's quite little.”

“Fuck, does Chan have more sugar babies? Because if he continues, he'll go bankrupt.”

“I told you they're not ordinary people and they have to specify what they want, if you ever feel like they disrespect you and don’t follow what was previously established, you have every right to fine them and report them.”

“And make it a public legal issue? No thanks.”

“Then…”

“Well, I guess I have nothing to lose by taking a few lingerie photos, without showing my face!”

[…]

There you were, in the mall at a lingerie store on your day off, trying to find the best pieces that scream “classy slut”, you were so terrified, it means they must be men with a lot of money and extreme loneliness and desperation, so the least you could do was pretend to feel sorry for them and look pretty in a nice set.

You were spending your money on something you hoped would soon multiply by millions, until the sound of your phone startled you because you were so focused that you felt like you were doing something illegal. It was Felix.

“Hey.”

“Hey, where are you? It's your day off, right?” he said.

“Yes… I'm at the mall.”

You couldn't lie to him, the music and sound of people were so audible.

“At the usual one? No way, I'm here too, I'm buying a birthday present for Olivia, I wanted to ask you to help me.”

“Well if you want to wait…”

“Where exactly are you? I'll come find you.”

You didn't want to see him, you felt so guilty accepting dirty money from strangers and not the one he always offered you in the purest way without asking for anything in return, you felt terrible.

“I'm at…” you looked around trying to find another store to run away when he's near, but you couldn't. “Buying lingerie on the second floor.”

You told him the truth, you didn't think he would come. And you've always been someone without filters, except when it comes to Felix, only with him do you have a soft spot. There was a little silence.

“Do you have a date?”

His voice suddenly became serious and his tone of enthusiasm vanished.

“Well, it's complicated” you grimaced but he couldn't see you.

“I'm coming over there.”

Felix hung up on you suddenly and you just let out a sigh; you couldn't guess where he was to calculate his time and leave the store and meet him outside, but you really needed that outfit, your last nudes were taken when you were in high school when you did your first sexting with a guy in your class, who was a nice guy, Kim Seungmin from your science class, you fucked him in the basketball gym closet and he never ever told anyone, nor showed your nudes; but the situation was already twisted enough without putting up your old photos from when you were a minor, plus the light and angles weren't fancy enough to be worth 10 million won.

You rushed to find something fast and before you knew it, Felix had already arrived.

“I like that one” he said in his deep voice close to your ear taking you by surprise.

You turned to see him, today he looked cuter than usual, he had his hands clasped behind his back and a small smile on his sweet face.

“Felix…” you whispered.

“So, what's the occasion? Who are you going to wear that for?” he mumbled.

He wanted to hide his irritation in a soft tone, but he couldn't, he was annoyed.

“Oh, it's nothing, I just have to update my closet.”

“Then buy whatever you want and I'll pay for it” you were about to speak and he gently raised his index finger in objection. “Is it bothering you that I'm here? I can leave you my credit card and wait for you outside.”

Felix looked around innocently, he was surrounded by women's underwear and women. You smiled warmly at him.

“No, actually you can help me.”

You liked to play with Felix a little, you adored watching the way his face would lift and light up all over, his ears would perk up a little and his round eyes would get bigger, as happy as a loyal puppy. Objectively yes he could help you, he was also an incredibly wealthy man, you thought maybe all millionaires shared the same neuron or tastes to get them turned on.

“I'm between this one and this one” you showed him the pairs you had selected.

“Take both of them. Or as many as you want.”

You wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, you were suffocating to the idea of what you were going to do; you loved shopping but today….

“Come on, take some more, your closet won't be filled with just two” Felix added.

You smiled at him and chose a few more so he would stop talking and you could leave at once. Felix paid without any problem while the cashier looked at you with contempt and envy when she saw the pretty boy who accompanied you, slim, elegant, blond with long hair and an innocent face bathed in freckles.

“Thank you, Lix” you gave him a quick kiss on his soft, rosy cheek.

If Felix had a dog's tail, you were sure he'd be wagging it vividly and endlessly with happiness.

“Have you eaten yet? Let's go get something to eat…” he mentioned excitedly, turning to look at you.

“Mm, later, now I'll help you choose the gift for your sister.”

“Oh, yes, sure, what do you think, Cartier or Tiffany? Although Van Cleef is very fashionable among young girls. And maybe a Dior bag, I think it's her favorite brand; my father will give her her first Birkin so my bag will be like a toy, I don't know what to give her.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, Felix was talking and you were listening.

[…]

“Do you wanna go to my place? There's a movie I want to see. Only you would listen to me while I pause the movie every 5 minutes to make a comment.”

Felix spoke while he was driving, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye and noticed you distracted; you couldn't help it, you thought to yourself that you have to take good pictures and that maybe soon your pussy will be tasting a stranger's cock, for money, which made your hair stand on end. You came out of your trance when you realized Felix spoke.

“Yes, it's okay.”

You needed a distraction. And you missed movie nights —and commentary— with Felix, your best filmmaker friend.

“What are you doing on Saturday? You should go to Olivia's party, she's having a themed party after dinner with us; I don't know what her theme is yet, but I'll let you know. Olivia remembers you and likes you very much.”

Felix suggested trying to get your attention. You didn't even have to think about it, Felix's younger sister was a sweetheart like him, it was his older sister who was a tough crowd, you knew she didn't like you and that she thought you only hung out with her brother for his money, she almost fainted when she found out you were on scholarship and lived in a middle class neighborhood. It was enough for you to know that Felix drove you everywhere, that was too much for you.

“I'll think about it… I have a deadline this Sunday for a report.”

He pressed his lips together, knowing you were lying, but he didn't blame you, he thought maybe it would be too much pressure to meet his family.

“So… Are you going to tell me who you're going to wear that lingerie for? Is it someone from the university that I know?” Felix tried to be subtle, but he was dying to know who was going to touch you other than him.

You and Felix had almost done it for multiple times but you always stopped yourself, you couldn't do it because you were afraid he would do it so well and so sweetly that you would end up falling in love with him. He loved the way you made him completely horny, almost cumming in his pants.

And then you had a great idea, if you were going to get into that business you had to be cool and think it would only be a simple fuck, you wouldn't concentrate on anything but feeling a hard cock in your pussy… so you had to fuck Felix right now, there was no other way to prove you were an insensitive bitch than to fuck the only man you have ever felt love and respect for.

You tried to get flirtatious and quickly changed your mood.

“Maybe you're right, he's someone you know very well.”

You spoke slowly and seductively, staring at him, you must have recognized that you really have a very attractive best friend, he quickly noticed your heavy look and the change of mood, so he swallowed nervously and looked at you surprised with opening his pretty eyes in pity and that didn't help you at all, he looked fucking cute when he was like that.

“Oh yeah?” he added playfully looking sideways and running his tongue along the inside of his cheeks.

You moved closer to him and brushed his cheek with the tip of your nose seductively, while your left hand traveled dangerously from his thigh to his crotch where you massaged his growing bulge.

“Let's go to your place and you tell me what you think of each of the sets you bought me, for him.”

You noticed the irregularity of Felix's breathing, you didn't want to act clumsy and end up fucking him in the car, even though it was incredibly spacious enough… but you knew that when Felix was aroused and totally yielding to your charms and touches, he wasn't thinking clearly.

“Let's listen to music while we wait” you added amused.

You moved away from him and played music through the screen of his modern car, almost letting out a giggle, you didn't know if Felix hated you for that or was just turned on and, for him it was the second option, all the way he was uncomfortable with his pants drowning his cock, but he didn't know how to ask you nicely that if possible you could give him a handjob right there, to which he concluded that there was no decent way to say it so he waited until finally arriving at his pent-house.

As you entered the elevator you both kissed desperately, you almost smiled between the kisses knowing how much fun it would be to finally taste your best friend. Felix was holding all the shopping bags tightly, or at least he was trying to, he wanted to keep his hands on your waist and glued you to him, so once you reached his apartment, he let go of the bags and kept kissing you mercilessly, it felt so good, his warm hands on your waist, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth and your lips joined with a huge appetite. You realized he wanted to take control and if he did, you would end up making love slowly and not just fucking, so you gently pushed him away, he saw you confused with puffy lips and a look of lust.

“Let me show you how good it all looks on me.”

You gave him a quick kiss and took his hand, directing him to the couch where he sat.

He licked his lips as he bit them, stretched out his arms and settled back, trying to ignore his throbbing sex. He loved the way you played with it.

You took the first piece of black full body lace lingerie. You undressed in front of him and slowly and painfully slipped it on, Felix was struggling with his immense desire to make you his.

“Help me.”

You dropped onto his lap pretending to have trouble putting the garment on, you were so wet, you wanted to feel him like you had never wanted to feel him before. Felix put his hands on your body and quickly reached for your pussy, pulling the tight, thin fabric away from your center and began to play with your clit. You moaned, losing control of your initial plan as you were surrendered to his touch.

You unbuttoned his pants, removing them and his underwear in exasperation. And there was your friend's hard, firm cock lightly lubricated in semen, as nice and thin as he was, it looked exquisite, and you were going to ride it so well.

“Felix, the condom” you practically begged.

He gasped at the touch of your hand and firm grip, “over there,” he mumbled pointing to a cabinet with a drawer, you thought for a second if he fucks regularly or why he had condoms in accessible and strategic places. You walked by the condom, feeling your wetness with every step and positioned yourself in front of him, your knees on either side of his thighs.

“You should take pictures of me, with each of the lingerie, exclusively for you; I want you to know that I'm really grateful every time you do something nice for me” you stared at him as you opened the wrapper.

You put the condom on him, you could see how gorgeous, red and swollen his cock was ready for you, and slowly, carefully pulling the fabric apart, you sat on it, inserting it and feeling every inch as you went down.

“Shit, y/n, move for me” Felix gasped.

You moaned as you felt it buried in your pussy and began to enjoy yourself endlessly, jumping on his erection as each squat made you lose your breath. Felix held you tightly by the waist, accentuating each movement. You gave yourself thrusts leaning on his thighs and, when you felt his cock throbbing and his body getting weaker and weaker indicating his orgasm, you hugged him on his shoulders and kept moving your hips and ass with agility.

Felix completely agreed that you would take control and held your ass helping you a little until, between gasps and almost crying, Felix finally cummed. You were so possessed by adrenaline, you could feel your orgasm so close, that you accelerated your squats and held your breath for a second until you finally exploded in a sea of sighs and glistening fluid.

You dropped your tired body on Felix's shoulder, feeling his scent and immediately regretted it, it had been amazing, but you always thought the first time you would fuck Felix would be so sweet, on a warm day, maybe in spring, involving roses and a date… not in such a dirty way on a cold October night on his living room couch.

“You know I like you a lot, y/n. Let's stay that way.”

And you said something really stupid, something you had no intention of saying. You wondered what he meant, whether to continue to stay like this fucking, or cuddling?

“I like you too.”

You kept hiding in his neck, you were a coward who can't accept that you were capable of feeling something for someone.

And if that wasn't enough to make you feel bad, he gave you the sweetest cuddles once you came out of his cock, he tended you carefully and told you how pretty you looked.

After that he took your long awaited pictures and after taking your last one, he made sure to reward you so well that he ended up eating your pussy.

You ended the night by taking a shower together, and fucking you again in there; you watched the movie while he commented on each annotation he made, but Felix fell asleep halfway through, in your arms. You didn't know what to do, you didn't know if you were going to continue that way with him and you still weren't ready to take the big step of accepting his money just because suddenly you go out and he gives you everything, his sister already hated you… what would people think; you cared more about your situation with him than about what they would think if I slept with a stranger for money situation, although, nobody had to know it was for money, if somehow someone found out, you could say it was just a fuck, you thought.

So, resigned to the fact that you still had to pay your rent, you sent the pictures to Hari, to which she quickly replied with a «wow! I got em» Thirty minutes later, a screenshot of what your profile looked like, it was embarrassing for you. «I'll be sure to get you the best deals😉», she wrote back.

The next morning you woke up in Felix's bed, wearing his clothes; he must have moved you and you hadn't even noticed, you reached for your phone and couldn't believe your eyes, notifications from your bank account app, you had received ₩ 40 million.

You were ready to tell Hari that you had enough with what you were getting just for the pictures, you couldn't believe it.

[…]

And, on the other side of the city, in one of the best, luxurious and exclusive hotels in the place, the hotel owner himself, the young and wealthy Hwang Hyunjin and his friend who fit in the same category as him, Lee Minho, were having brunch.

“Ah, Lee Minho, he can finally have brunch with you in his busy schedule” Hyunjin told him.

Hyunjin had arrived and Minho was waiting for him, sitting in one of the hotel's restaurants next to the large window with a view of the city. Hyunjin was more into art, but being the only son of his powerful father who owned hotel chains, he gave him that one right on his 18th birthday, since then Hyunjin has taken more than good care of it, and decorates it in his favorite pieces of art, his favorite part.

Minho stood up to greet him, shaking hands and a quick hug.

“Busy me? If it's you who's going around the country with your galleries” Minho replied, sitting down.

“I know, I know, it's unbelievable. Have you ordered lunch yet?”

“Yes.”

“I'll order the same” Hyunjin shouted to his employee as he sat in his chair facing Minho.

“Big day tomorrow, huh?” added Minho.

“Of course, you have to be there, I even left the presidential suite just for you.”

Hyunjin leaned back in his chair clasping his hands together with a smile on his face. Minho laughed softly.

“I don't get ready in hotels anymore.”

“Well, do it for me this time, like old times. Besides… you have a plus one to my gallery event.”

Minho's soft, amused look tensed a little when he heard his friend.

“Oh yeah? Well, I think I'll go alone.”

“In fact it's mandatory that you go with someone, so I got you that someone.”

“No thanks, I'd rather not go.”

Hyunjin smiled sideways seeing how cute his friend was getting when he was getting into his temper.

“It's a girl, but if you want a boy you have to tell me before tonight” he joked.

“Why can't I be your date then?”

“I'm sorry, I'm already going with someone tomorrow. But I think it's time for you to start seeing more people.”

Minho gave him a dirty look, he didn't want to have that conversation at their meeting after weeks of not being aware of their lives.

“I'm fine, I'm busy.”

“When was the last time you fucked someone” Hyunjin blurted out in amusement trying to smooth the conversation.

“It's none of your business.”

“I'll take that as you haven't done it in a long time.”

“If you care so much why don't you fuck me in the suite.”

Hyunjin laughed, gently touching his nose, though deep down he believed this was no time for joking… or at least it was a little since he didn't know how to tell him what he had to say.

“I would but you'd have to pay back every penny I spent on the pretty girl.”

“You paid money to a girl to sleep with me against my will? Artists are weird, I thought we were in the 21st century.”

Hyunjin couldn't hold it in anymore so he licked his lips and finally confessed:

“Soyul will be there.”

Minho's smirk left his face little by little and his heart almost stopped when he heard after so long the name of his ex-girlfriend; and that was exactly what Hyunjin was referring to and of the expression on his friend's part that Hyunjin feared for. He couldn't lie to him, Soyul was one of his biggest investors, she had to be present and he couldn't fool his friend; he knew he still wasn't over her, not even after two long years since their breakup; in fact, the idea of getting him someone started a few weeks ago, at their meeting where a drunken Minho confessed to him in tears the deep pain and misery he felt after the one he considered the love of his life left him. That was for Hyunjin the straw that broke the camel's back, he was not going to see his friend depressed.

“So?” Minho tried to sound nonchalant.

“She's going with her boyfriend… and I think you're still not over her….”

“And you decided to hire a hooker? That's why you left me the suite, isn't it, motherfucker?”

“She's not a-, well, if you don't want to fuck her, don't, just let her keep you company at my event.”

“Weren't the regular girls available?”

“All the normal girls in our social circle know Soyul and let's face it, they are very gossipy, it will be embarrassing for you for them to know that you haven't moved on with….”

“I can go alone” he interrupted him, he couldn't bear to hear him say his ex-girlfriend's name one more time.

“Come on, Minho, give yourself a chance, she is really pretty, she is an actress and…”

“A porn actress?” he interrupted him, not taking it seriously.

Meanwhile, their waitress was delivering their food and drinks, trying to act normal after overhearing the conversation.

“She's a real actress. I'll text you all her information. She's a Scorpio like you if you care about zodiac signs.”

Minho didn't answer, he didn't feel like dealing with anything else.

“They're freaky” Hyunjin poke as he picked up his cutlery, Minho frowned. “Scorpios. They say they’re good in bed.”

[...]

“I got wonderful news”

Hari suddenly appeared with a huge smile at your work.

“Hello to you too?”

“Can you take a break?”

“I'll be back in 5” you shouted and took off your apron to go out with your friend.

“I'm about to close a deal, I think you should have the money by now. You have to quit your job now, you have a date on Saturday.”

You were perplexed.

“Hari, what did you do?” you felt your phone vibrate in the back pocket of your jeans.

And there it was, your bank account with an imaginable amount, you opened your mouth in surprise, this was starting to get serious with an amount like that.

“I told you.”

“But who is it? What does he look like?” you didn't know how to react.

“Don't worry, they are Chan's friends, they are 100% reliable.”

“Is it more than one?” you opened your eyes in surprise.

“It's not… it’s complicated, a friend of Chan's, Hyunjin hired you for his friend Minho, who said he agreed, he just didn't use the app. I wanted to negotiate for him to pay for both of them but I guess he was pretty generous. Anyway, he just wants you to accompany Minho to Hyunjin's exclusive exhibition and pretend to be in a relationship with him for at least two hours?”

It was a lot of information to process, you didn't know what to say.

“Hyunjin will explain you more in detail but seriously you have to go otherwise you will be fined that same amount paid and a little more. You can leave as soon as you feel uncomfortable since apparently Minho has a strong personality.”

“Believe me, I'll leave as soon as I walk through the door.”

[…]

There you were on your Saturday night, standing in front of the door of a luxurious hotel, you walked in and met the handsome young man who was in charge of filling your bank account. You walked shyly toward him and greeted him with embarrassment. His dress code was clear: a short black dress fitted to your silhouette, comfortable shoes and normal underwear. He was going to dress you.

You looked at him, there he was, the famous Hwang Hyunjin himself from the large dynasty of the Hwangs, very influential people; he was taller than you, he had sharp eyes and thick lips, he was more attractive in person and he had to tell you the same.

“You look spectacular, chérie” he mentioned flirtatiously. “Come here” he invited you to come closer and you did.

You weren't a big fan of this, but you had to admit that something inside you grew and made you feel incredibly horny, the atmosphere of the hotel, the tense silence and the incredibly handsome man in front of you, in addition to your submissive behavior… rarely turned you on a bit.

“Do you want me to call you a make up artist or your make up it’s fine?” he gently touched your hair.

You looked up to see him.

“I think, it’s okay like this.”

You were nervous and slightly horny.

You did your best job with your make up and hair already, the make up was natural and elegant but still visible, matte nude eyeshadow, sharp eyeliner, elongated lashes, soft blush and lipgloss. Your hair was styled with soft waves.

“Great, so we don’t waste more time. You look beautiful already, actually you look better than the photos” he put his hands in his pants pockets and looked at you up and down biting his lip. “The dress is ready in the room, but you know what actually, bring it right here. Dress in front of me.”

Hyunjin was already aroused and was fighting his instincts to seduce and touch you, yet you were his friend's tonight, but he thought it only fair to see first what he had paid for. He sat comfortably on the couch and waited for you to return. On the other hand you were more than nervous and strangely agitated with excitement, that dark-haired man dressed in a tight suit all white because that was the theme of the party and finally there it was, a dress whose style and logo you could recognize so well. A white Versace mini dress that you assumed would fit to your mid thighs, you thought you had only seen that style in black so it was strange to see it in the brand's signature pearl white; until you saw the name Hyunjin embroidered on the label, was it designed for you? A shiny black Jimmy Choo silhouette heels, and a white crossbody bag from the same designer of the dress, you were speechless, so amazed that you almost forgot Hyunjin's request, he wanted you to change in front of him, then you saw something that terrified you, a beautiful white lingerie that went perfect under the dress, he wanted to see you naked.

You wanted it to be quick, almost like pulling off a bandit, so you tried to take everything and brought it close to him where you found him sitting on the couch ready for his little private show. You undid your black dress at the bottom so as not to ruin your hair and unthinkingly removed your underwear. Hyunjin was engrossed, he wondered why he didn't choose you, but for him after seeing your naked body. He was struggling as hard as he could to keep an erection from appearing in his pants, but it was too late.

You took off your low sandals ready to put on your underwear but he interrupted you.

“Let me help you.”

He took the garment and squatted down while helping you slide your panties to your area. Hyunjin enjoyed every second of the soft touch of your legs and then stood up to help you fasten your strapless bra. You could feel the tension in the air so you just bit your lip, resisting his hot touches and his warm breath on the back of your neck.

Finally you put on your dress and heels and you looked completely different, you never thought you would get to wear something like that to a type of event you don't frequent. You awkwardly moved the things from your bag to the new one and tried to regain your sanity.

“Something's missing” he spoke and grabbed your left wrist.

Hyunjin put on you the characteristic white clover bracelet with gold from the refined Van Cleef jewelry.

“Well, you've seen Minho. This is the key and it's two floors up from here” he added, handing you the access card. “I want to see the two of you together in the gallery, he may even could offer you the double of money so you can leave, but please, you have to go with him.”

Hyunjin now spoke in a commanding tone giving you instructions, his hot moment had passed, he had to concentrate.

“And please… let me know if you and Minho fuck, if the idiot doesn't touch you we can maybe go to…. how about Santorini?”

It seemed that you had your feelings locked in a box and that you acted according to a fever dream. You thought you were an actress and could get out of it easily, you just had to act. Your role was now about a rich girl wannabe.

You entered the room unannounced as instructed by Hyunjin and took a few steps forward until Minho heard the door open, interrupting his grooming time so he came out of his room wrapped in a towel and still with slightly wet hair.

“I didn't order room serv…” he said.

Minho stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at you standing there. You didn't know what to do, you were frozen in place; you looked at him, he looked handsome and was half naked, except for the towel covering his private parts, you couldn't help seeing him, his worked body, muscular arms but not exaggerated, his abdomen marked with a small scar above his navel and…. you felt bad but you thought he was looking directly at you too, his marked penis above the white towel. Minho smiled sideways at your nerve to look at him and could tell your mild surprise as you looked at his package, a valid reaction he thought.

“You're in the wrong room or are you lost?”

Minho could predict why you were there, after all you could only get in with the key. He looked at you sternly waiting for an answer. You took a breath and spoke.

“I will be your companion today at the art exhibition.”

Minho laughed and let out a breath.

“I don't remember ordering a hooker either. That fucker Hyunjin sent you, didn’t he?”

The term took you by surprise and you were offended, you were about to defend yourself when he continued speaking.

“Seriously, you can go, I'll pay you more than whatever that bastard gave you, just go” he waved his hands in a gesture for you to leave.

“I won't.”

“Will you make me call security?”

“Do it” you challenged.

Minho exhaled in annoyance and touched his forehead in concern.

“I'm going to kill Hwang Hyunjin.”

Without another word he went back to his room and thirty minutes later he came out ready dressed in a white suit with his serious expression. He looked at you for a few seconds with contempt as he passed by you and headed towards his door ready to leave, you ran towards him, leaving at the same time.

“I don't know what Hyunjin is up to but when I see him I'll…”

He was expressing himself annoyed until more people entering the elevator interrupted him.

“I'll get my car keys” he said to you indifferently as he walked away towards the hotel counter.

You followed Minho, keeping a distance; you glanced around, being able to see from the huge waiting room to the large entrance to the restaurant where you could also see and your heart stopped for a moment when you spotted a long dyed blonde hair sitting at one of the tables. You turned quickly, hoping he couldn't see you, but as if fate would have it, you managed to see him leave his seat and approach the foyer. In panic you slipped into the waiting room where you sat with your back turned.

Felix went straight to Minho.

“Lee Minho” he blond greeted him enthusiastically.

“Hey, Yongbokkie, what brings you here.”

Minho turned to look at Felix and frowned when he saw that you were no longer behind his back, he looked at you for a few seconds until he deduced that you might have finally run away, which made him happy and disappointed at the same time.

“It's Olivia's birthday dinner”.

“Oh, congratulate her for me” the blond smiled at him.

“Are you about to leave?” Felix said.

“Yes, I'm going to Hyunjin's.”

“Sure, sure, maybe I'll stop by later.”

Minho just smiled at him and asked a few more trivial questions about his parents.

“Mr. Lee, your car is outside waiting for you” the employee interrupted them.

“I have to go Felix, I'll see you later.”

“Of course.”

You were hiding, praying that Felix wouldn't recognize your hair and suddenly you saw him chatting with your 'date' for tonight, apparently they were friends so you felt more terrified, what if by chance Minho decides to tell Felix? Oh you would be ruined. After the short talk you saw Minho leaving towards the exit so once again you slipped away almost running to catch up with Minho. He was surprised to see you back by his side. Minho said,

“Mm, the night was just starting to get nice when I thought you had left.”

You gave him a dirty look and followed him to his car where you sat in the passenger seat. When Minho put on his seat belt he noticed the shiny gold detail on the strap of your dress, it was the medusa logo characteristic of that high fashion Italian brand.

“The bastard dressed you in Versace, you already look more like his than mine.”

You stood still not knowing what to say, it was maybe the first nice thing he had said to you during all your short time together.

Minho inspected you quickly, he was so upset that his friend didn’t lie, and just like Hyunjin said, you were a really pretty girl.

“But he didn't put earrings on you, if you're going to come with me you have to look your best.”

Once again he spoke in a resigned tone and arrived at Tiffany's jewelry store. Minho was resigned to the fact that you would accompany him tonight so he thought if you were going to make Soyul jealous, you really had to do it. Besides he had already inspected you, at first glance you were too pretty and that dress fit you like a dream so that speeded things up.

Once again, you had to go behind him and you entered the luxurious establishment.

“Good evening, Mr. Lee, how can I help you? Would you like something to drink?” the worker hurried to say to you once you entered, with a smile, looking quickly towards you.

You noticed how she looked at you in surprise since Minho hadn't brought another girl since two years ago when he was still in a relationship.

“Nothing for me in particular, I'm looking for earrings for women.”

“Of course, I'll show you.”

Minho followed the young woman and you followed Minho, who led you deeper into one of the display counters; you had come a lot of times with Felix every time it was a special occasion for his family since he had been raised among only women, he always offered to buy you some jewelry but you flatly refused. And now there you were, about to accept them from a stranger.

“Choose” he ordered you. “Quickly, I don't like to be late” he looked at his watch.

Timidly you leaned down to look at each one of the fine jewelry until a pair of gold diamond earrings in the shape of a flower caught your attention.

“These” you murmured to Minho.

The clerk stood waiting for his confirmation.

“I'll take those.”

He quickly took care of paying for them without looking at the price and they were finally delivered in their characteristic turquoise box with a white bow. He got into the car first and left the box there, you snorted for a second annoyed at how ungentlemanly and attentive he was, one second you felt like a princess wearing Versace and taking you to Tiffany & Co. and the next you had to run to keep up with him.

As soon as you got in, he said curtly:

“Use them, we're about to get to Hyunjin's.”

You watched him take the steering wheel attractively and noticed two boxes in between of you. You didn't know why you took the other one and Minho, noticing it, quickly placed his hand on yours stopping you.

“It's the other box.”

You looked at him, he acted a little strange; you took the other box and put on those sparkling diamonds. You had taken the old engagement ring that Minho bought for Soyul before they broke up, he was ready to give it up as it was of no use to him, it was made to fit his ex-girlfriend's finger.

When you arrived you saw that it was not a simple exhibition, but a chateau style mansion with many cars parked at the grand entrance, you got nervous, just like Minho, normally he didn't get like this but it would be the first time he would see Soyul accompanied by the man why she left him and also he had his first kind of date after so long.

Minho let out a breath.

“Well, we have to do it right. You're an actress, right? Create a character right now so we can both be on the same page.”

You didn't know what to say.

“I can change my name and….”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Which one is right for you?”

“Anything…”

“Choi Eunjoo… photographer from…”

“A place far away, what about Jeju?” he mentioned intensely, he was nervous.

You nodded. You had chosen the name of an inactive random actress who studied at the same university as you, who was a friend of Felix's mother and whose cinematography he forced you to watch while your friend argued how good she looked at her age. If they try to look you up for your name, they would be surprised to see only her and her inactive projects in the early 2000s.

“Okay, let's go.”

You both walked down the dirt road, once you came out of the darkness and Minho noticed people watching, he grabbed you by the waist.

“And what is your real name, Eunjoo?” he whispered to you.

[…]

It was better than you expected, you didn't imagine that there would be a construction like this in the modern city, you drank Champagne while you didn't leave Minho's side even for a second; after a couple of drinks you both relaxed completely and walked around the house and admired Hyunjin's paintings. This was maybe a normal Saturday for Minho, but it was for you a dream, you felt like Cinderella, once the clock struck 12 and the charm would be completely gone.

At one point in a room you both finally met Hyunjin, Minho came over to greet him and you shyly watched them chat, Hyunjin gave you a complicit look and smile, he hadn't seen Minho relaxed in years, sadly it was short lived as Soyul entered the room.

You noticed Minho's jaw tighten and saw where his eyes were fixed, on a pretty slim woman with the face of a celebrity. You quickly understood and walked over to Minho, linking your arm around his.

“You're here” she said to him.

She quickly looked at you.

“I'm still Hyunjin's friend.”

“Jung Soyul, nice to meet you” she introduced herself.

You held hands and Minho saw something that broke his heart once again, an engagement ring on her finger, suddenly the alcohol left his body, he felt sick, the suit was suffocating him.

“Choi Eunjoo” you smiled at her.

“So are you dating?”

Hyunjin could notice the sour look she had on you and that caused him satisfaction.

“Yes” Minho went ahead to say.

“I haven’t see you before, Choi Eunjoo.”

She said hypocritically, blinking repeatedly.

“Oh, it's just that, I'm an indie photographer from Jeju and… I met Minho and the rest is history.”

“Oh, now that's romantic.”

“More romantic than getting to know each other when you're in another relationship” Hyunjin added amusedly, taking a sip of his drink.

Soyul gave him a dirty look. And Minho didn't find it funny, he wanted to get out of there. Soyul knew him so well and noticed his expression, meanwhile you were analyzing the look of pity she was giving your boss, so you turned to see him, he looked serious and pale. You quickly approached his ear, covering your lips and whispered to him:

“We can get out of here if you want, pretend I'm saying something nice to you and smile naturally. You're acting weird.”

And so he did, Minho smiled softly; he hadn't felt the touch of another woman in years, suddenly your warm breath and soft lips brushing minimally against his ear pleased him.

“We haven't seen the whole exhibition yet, excuse me” he added, taking your hand.

You moved far enough away and, in a crowded room, he let go of your hand and walked out the large doors to what you could see was a balcony. You didn't know whether to follow him, but you did anyway.

He had unbuttoned his suit and a few buttons on his shirt, he felt suffocated. You saw him leaning against the white stone railing.

“Should I ask what's got you like this?” you said softly.

“You don't have to follow me around all the time” he added defensively. “Soyul cheated on me and now she is going to marry that motherfucker, what a great night to find out.”

You didn't say anything, you didn't know how to comfort someone and in a way, Minho was grateful for your silence.

“Well, once I say it out loud it sounds pathetic” he added.

“Hyunjin told me it was complicated for you…” you approached him and hesitated to touch him, but slowly rubbed your hand on his back, “that he wants the best for you and you start to meet new people.”

Minho let out a chuckle and watched you carefully, he hadn't given himself the task of observing how pretty you looked in that dress, under the moonlight, the way your eyes sparkled and how your lips looked so appetizing, Minho found himself losing his temper a bit for you so he quickly rejected any feelings and immaturely, he became elated and said:

“I don't know why I'm saying this things to a hooker anyway.”

He brushed off your touch and walked away leaving you absolutely lost and somewhat hurt.

The rest of the night you didn't find Minho and you were starting to get scared, you felt out of place, lost in a huge house, full of rich people laughing in their own social circle, you were so sensitive you wanted to cry, you wondered if Minho had abandoned you there.

You checked the time, past midnight and 5 minutes, it was time to go. You tried to look for a way out until you made it, you felt so embarrassed that you would ask for a cab but the signal on your phone there was terrible.

Suddenly you felt a big hand grab your wrist, you turned around scared and found the man you almost cried for tonight.

“Let's get out of here.”

Confused, he led you to his car and you parted on the road in silence. Minho had pondered all night and wanted to take the next step, to finally be with a woman other than his ex-girlfriend, but he didn't know exactly how to ask you.

As you merged into the city you realized he was heading in an unknown direction until you reached the hills in one of the more upscale neighborhoods and finally saw that he had taken you to his house.

You thought he was a selfish piece of shit and there were two options, suddenly he wanted to fuck you or he went home exhausted and sad and would let you call a cab to take you home. But what you didn't know was that he was cynically leaning towards the first option.

You got out of the car and now he was the one running towards you.

“Why that face y/n?” he said, approaching you.

You looked at him indignantly, suddenly he was calling you by name and wanted to have you close, you thought he must be drunk.

“Let's go inside, you have to be a good girl and thank me for the earrings, I'll make sure to buy you more pairs.”

He grabbed you by the waist, you noticed how his voice became gravelly, but that wasn't how you fell and he knew he said a couple of hurtful things but he didn't know how to apologize. You questioned whether you should play along, fuck him and call it a day and go home, as sadly you had to play along, or so you thought.

You stared into his eyes, those big dark eyes in a cute cat shape, he was attractive and from what you saw earlier he had a good dick, so you decided that if you would cry at least make sure it was worth it.

“What do you have in mind?” you rounded his neck and moved your face closer.

He smiled mischievously and, the next thing you knew, you were both in his home entrance devouring each other's lips. Minho had a lot of dirty ideas while he was away from you during the party, the alcohol made him horny. He took off his coat and untucked his shirt and undid his belt. He slipped his hands under your dress lifting it and shamelessly squeezed and massaged your ass, drawing you to his body where you began to feel his erection rubbing against you; Minho loved the idea of touching your bare ass since you only had tiny panties on, you moaned as you felt his lips and tongue on your neck, for some reason his mouth was so soft and you were a complete sucker when you were treated to a lot of physical contact during sex.

You parted and an act of lust, he sought to undo your dress and bra, he stared at you, semi naked for him and began to move his kisses down your breasts without breaking eye contact, it looked fucking good to watch him as he moved down your body and feasted himself on your tits until he moved down to your underwear and wet pussy. By this point you were panting and in need of action. His sharp nose brushed against your mons pubis and he slowly slid your underwear down your legs until he stripped them from you. He parted your legs a little and you felt his hot breath on your area screaming for attention. Minho took your pussy with his big hands and parted your folds, sticking his tongue out shyly and giving your whole pussy a deep, dirty kiss. You gave a little cry of excitement and didn't think you were capable of standing in heels while he ate you out.

Minho felt so good, with his thumb he stimulated your clit as you gave little spasms into him from your excitement. He noticed that you were becoming increasingly impossible to hold so he stopped, carried you suddenly upstairs to his room. Minho laid you down on his bed while he stayed on the edge of it finishing undressing himself. You watched the spectacle with excitement, from his notorious veins to his hands undoing buttons that looked tiny and finally his pants releasing his big firm erect cock, your heart raced faster just watching it, it was delicious, he was incredibly endowed, it was big and thick with notorious veins, you bit your lip thinking how incredibly painful but pleasurable that would feel in your pussy.

Minho saw your reaction and quickly positioned himself over you, he took your wrists and held them with one hand above your head.

“Did you like what you see, little whore?”

You nodded, unable to speak properly, if you tried to say anything it would surely be in a needy tone. You could feel him slapping your belly every time he came closer to you.

“You want it in your mouth?”

You almost screamed please, but before you could speak, Minho lay back waiting to be satisfied. On your knees and arching your back purposely giving him a view of your dripping pussy, you took his big cock and inserted it into your mouth tasting every vein. Minho sat up and began to fuck you with two fingers inserting them into your vagina. You are a mess, completely wet, with cum and saliva sliding down the corner of your lips, you didn't think it could have been better until you feel his hands on your hips and he tries to position you on top of him. You helped him a little and for the first time you were experiencing the 69 position.

You were panting between his big dick, your nose was starting to get slippery and little tears were coming out of your eyes. On the other hand Minho had his tongue deep inside you, he was tasting your labia, and stimulating your clitoris and from time to time he passed your wetness stimulating your exposed ass.

You stopped sucking him off when you felt your climax near, you sat up while resting your hands on his marked abdomen, only your gasps and grotesque sound of Minho devouring your pussy could be heard in the room, occasionally he would let out tinies 'mmmh' enjoying every second of you. You clung more to his abdomen and lifted your ass gently so as not to rest all your weight on him; you threw your head back blinded with pleasure.

“I'm gonna cum” you announced in a desperate, choked cry.

And just when you didn't think it could have been any better, Minho accelerated his licking and sucked harder, bringing you to the edge until you collapsed in his mouth. Your orgasm had been so strong that it hurt your abdomen a little.

You pulled away from him, embarrassed and soaking wet but Minho was more than happy. He leaned back on his elbows and wiped his mouth with a smile, it had been a long time since he had the intimacy of good sex, let alone eating such an appetizing nice pussy like yours, he smiled as he was satisfied that he was still excellent in bed.

You looked at his naked body again, his hard cock was needy and sensitive and within seconds you were horny again. Minho grabbed you roughly by the face and kissed you heatedly. He pulled away from you and with his hand made a motion indicating you to turn around, confused you showed him your ass and put yourself in four.

Minho without thinking caressed your buttocks and then spanked you hard 5 times in a row, each stroke exalted you and made you moan pleasurably, your skin was burning with pain, you could predict that your ass was thus as red as your riotous cheeks.

Minho played with your pussy a little, reinserting his fingertips, you saw him take a condom and within seconds you felt the latex on the tip of his penis teasing your entrance. Until you felt him slowly insert half of his erection and then insert the rest all at once causing you to let out a soft cry. You arched your back again as you gently moved your ass, adjusting yourself to his massive cock, filling your insides.

“I'm going to fuck you hard, kitten.”

He murmured and without warning and without mercy he began to ram you bestially making the sound of his pelvis slapping your buttocks resonate along with the sounds of your wet and well lubricated cunt. You couldn't help but moan every time he was inside, you felt like you were going to swoon all over him, it felt so good for you as well as for him, finally, the adrenaline and desire to fuck someone who wasn't as vanilla as his ex-girlfriend, Minho always liked to fuck hard.

You were in paradise, you were wearing diamonds and he was abruptly pounding your insides. Minho was holding you by the hips but soon grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled it, riding you wonderfully; his view was beautiful, he pulled his grip tighter and pressed you to his body, your back rubbing against his bare chest, you could feel his cock protruding from your lower belly, thrusting you hard. In one swift movement, he held you with his strong right arm whose naughty fingers pinched and stimulated your clit and with his left hand he began to gently choke you. He gasped from time to time in your ear “fuck” over and over again. You both synchronized your climax and you felt the grip of his hand on your neck getting tighter and tighter until you couldn't breathe, you adored it, you loved how your body was fighting for oxygen but at the same time seeking the culmination of your pleasure, your heart beat faster and oxytocin shot out of your system and in desperation you placed your hands on his hand on your neck, you felt every vein exalted from his strong grip.

You thought you were going to pass out but it was only your shuddering second orgasm, Minho slowly released you and cum on the condom still inside you. You ended up exhausted, racing and with your limbs trembling.

You had never been fucked so well that you almost felt the need to tell him I love you so you could have him forever.

The next morning you woke up naked, still in his comfortable bed. When you opened your eyes you found Minho buttoning his shirt, he looked all tidy and was getting ready.

“Are you going somewhere on Sunday?”

You spoke, hoarse and still asleep.

Minho turned to see you and smiled, he thought you looked cute with your hair in disarray and your face a little puffy, but after a second he regretted it. He refused to feel anything for you other than just desire.

“You have to go. The driver is outside.”

He told you coldly and walked out of his room, leaving you slightly heartbroken.

He was unbelievable.

[feirceangel]

How about a feyd x reader where feyd has reader watch him in the arena to gain her favor. She is impressed with him and respects his prowess. Just before a huge match what if she goes to him and leaves a hand print in paint over his heart as her token rather than a sash like the others. This fires him up/ looks super cool on his skin.

Ooh I love this!! I did my own spin on it but I hope you still enjoy! :)

Imagine | Stained (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Word Count: 1,377

Warnings: biting

Cheers rise into the polluted air on Giedi Prime, a torrent of frenzied noise which alerts you to the occurrence of yet another gladiatorial event.

You hadn't realized there would be one today. Normally, you notice the announcements and the crowds gathering to go see the festivities. You don't often join them.

Watching people fight to death. . . it's not a habit of yours.

Lately though, you've noticed how often Feyd has been mentioning his fights, never outright asking you to watch them but leaving plenty of hints.

Being from a wealthy family has its benefits, especially on a harsh place such as this. Ever since you've been here, you've tried to make the best of it and befriend as many native Harkonnens as you can.

This first, and dare you say only, friend-adjacent connection you've made has been with Feyd-Rautha.

His brother is too animalistic and angry for your liking, and the Baron is a ghastly man you do not like to interact with. Servants won't speak to you and the Mentat Piter is sickening in his sadistic tendencies.

So, to your surprise, you got to know Feyd the best out of them all.

He's brutal, yes. Menacing and violent as well.

And so alone.

Sure, he has his concubines: his pets that he plays with but soon grows bored of. And yes, he has his mockery of a family: a predatory uncle and a nasty brother.

Yet you can see past his façade of aloofness, see into his inner self. And what you see is a man forged by others into what he is now.

You see a hurting man who doesn't know anything close to true kindness.

So yes, he is wild and vicious. But there is an intelligence and cunning within those dark eyes that you have seen countless times. 

He's constantly observing, waiting for his moment to strike. He knows how to play his hand to benefit himself.

Despite his more undesirable traits, you'd dare call him a friend.

The cheering dies down as colourless fireworks burst in the air like ink stains. You watch them, casually leaning against the balcony railing.

Feyd finds you immediately, half undressed and still painted for fighting in the triangular colosseum.

"My lady," he rasps, approaching from behind slowly. "You did not watch the fights."

"It slipped my mind," you reply honestly. "Though I have no doubts you remain the champion, my lord."

His lips quirk upwards, "Naturally."

Your eyes roam over his blood splattered body, taking in the well-defined muscles which are decorated with paint. He's shirtless, how could you not stare?

He basks in your attention, cocky smirk never leaving his face. But it strains once you turn your attention away.

Feyd comes to lean against the rail beside you. You feel his eyes on you.

"You're coming to the next fight," he finally says once he realizes you're content to dwell in the silence.

You turn to face him with a smile, "Am I?"

His eyes narrow, voice quick and sharp, "Yes."

"You didn't ask."

Feyd tilts his head, "It's not a request."

"A command, my lord?"

"Yes," he repeats, leaning closer into your space. Your teasing tone is getting under his skin, you can tell. He's almost touching you now but you don't retreat.

This is the game you play.

"I suppose I can attend the next fight," you hum thoughtfully.  "Especially since you've requested it personally."

He backs away slowly and you force yourself into staying still even as you desire to chase after him. His close proximity is intoxicating.

As if he senses your inner battle, he grins and nods to you before sauntering away.

"I will put on a good show for you, my lady."

You find yourself alone, wishing he had stayed longer.

~~~

It was not mentioned again, and now you find yourself in your room preparing for the event. You dress modestly, still unaccustomed to the fashions on Giedi Prime. A black dress does nicely, with your hair loose. 

You still have plenty of time before your attendance is necessary, but you traverse to the arena despite this. The hallways are as colorless as everywhere else, a maze of black and white. 

Feyd is being dressed as you enter the room. His sharp eyes betray a smidge of surprise which he masks underneath an air of haughtiness. 

The servants attending him walk on eggshells, knowing that any wrong move could cause their demise. 

"You may be dismissed," you say, addressing the servants. 

Their eyes flicker to you with uncertainty. The servants do not move until Feyd snarls, "Do as she says!"

Instantly, they are gone. 

And it's just you and the warrior. 

You approach him slowly, picking up the paint pot that the servant abandoned. Circling him, you note how his eyes never leave you, even when he has to twist his head to keep you in his sights. 

"My lord, I hope you can forgive my impertinence, showing up here unannounced."

"Don't be coy," he narrows his eyes, "You're not sorry."

"You're right," you chuckle, swirling the paintbrush through the inky paint. "I'm not sorry to see you, especially like this." 

You rake your eyes over his flesh, barely concealed by a cloth wrapped around his waist. He is truly a fine specimen of a man. 

"May I?" You ask, stopping in front of him. 

He inclines his head. He hadn't been expecting this, since you seemed intent on avoiding the fights entirely. 

You begin by painting the smaller rectangles across his chest and then move to his back. Your brushstrokes are slow, methodic.

He anticipates each cool touch as you meticulously paint his flawless skin. He wishes it was your touch he was feeling, your hands against his skin. He craves it.

Next, you adorn his abdomen, barely concealing the excitement you feel being this close to him. As you finish, he reaches for his clothes but you stop him with a hand on his arm. 

"I'm not finished, my lord."

Intrigued, he returns his arm to his side, staring you down. 

You coat the palm of your right hand with the inky black liquid, never breaking eye contact with Feyd. He doesn't stop you as you press your hand against his warm chest, right where his heart would be. 

You start to pull away, but he is quick to grip your wrist, keeping you in place. For a second, you are concerned that you went too far. Maybe this is the day he kills you for your insolence?

Instead, he lunges forward, catching you in a hungry kiss. He bites and takes, and you surrender with ease. A sense of relief and excitement floods your senses as you kiss back just as passionately.  

"It is fitting," he says once he parts from you. 

He watches as you slowly peel your hand from his skin, leaving a perfect handprint over his heart. 

"What is?"

"That you should mark me like this," he grins to reveal blackened teeth. "You are a stain on my heart."

"How so?" You're still breathless, allured by his gravelly voice. 

"All it longs for is your touch, you vixen."

You caress his cheek, "I'm just marking what I own. And once you're declared the victor, you can come claim what's yours." 

Your words ignite a fire in him and he starts forward but you step back. 

His glare is venomous, as if you just deprived him of oxygen. 

"You have a fight to win, Feyd. Shouldn't you be preparing?"

Turning, you begin to walk away. 

A rough hand snatches your shoulder, and a hot mouth is on your neck before you can blink. He bites down harshly, drawing spots of blood. The pain is expected when dealing with a man like Feyd, but it is still surprising. 

You really have gotten under his skin. 

He releases the pressure of his teeth and drags his tongue over the wound. 

"You needed a mark too, my sweet."

You turn and press a chaste kiss to the top of his head, "Go make me proud, Feyd. I shall see you in your chambers after the fight."

He lets you leave, watching with blood stained lips. 

"As you command, so it shall be."

[please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!]

[guardianlegends64]

[Closed RP] Alternative Love Life of Sunny Day Jack in “Summer Day Love”

(Note: This Is An Alternate Love Life / Alternate Beginning of Sunny Day Jack!)

On the summer day of June and in the Nice and Beautiful and Sunny city of London of The United Kingdom and a Nice start of Summer As the Weather wasn’t too hot As it was at the perfect temperature and as it was the beginning of summer as there was a Happily Smiling Young adult man whose name is Joseph Haberdae

Joseph Has a Black Straight Haircut and Has the height of a Tree and has Blue eyes and has Impressively Strong and Invigorating Body

Joseph Came to London for a fresh and new beginning on his journey to success in his life And Wanted to Start somewhere new but he needed to learn and Get Established on London as Joseph was very Heavily wealthy but doesn’t want to spend too much as he Already bought a beautiful house and even bought some variety of Items that are essential and very important and also basic as he also bought a New Car [Subaru BRZ]

Then by the time Joseph had finished buying the Basic items for his house and for Transport he had to go shopping for Some Food and clothing though his eyes took a small glimpse of eyes to someone that took him by surprise but lost sight of that someone as he Shakes his head as he thought he was just seeing things as he continues to Buy Food and Clothing and a Hoodie and Jacket that caught his attention as he also Bought a Nice Pair of Headphones also a Nice Acoustic Guitar and a Nice and most popular unique bed and Finally finished shopping he gets back to his house as he Gets everything organized as he Finishes organizing as he Finishes Organizing He Plays His Brand New Acoustic Guitar as he plays very smoothly and Very Professionally as the Sounds that Joseph Plays is very Satisfactory as he smiles and goes to sleep on his bed…

The Next Morning Joseph Gets up from his bed as he gets Dressed in his casual clothes and heads over to a nearby Bakery For some Fresh Baked Bread as he waits for his order He Sees the Same Someone who was at the shop that he saw with just a glimpse as he was surprised as the only thing he saw was their eyes as he was surprised that the eyes were from a young lady who was also Ordering the same Bread that he Requested as Joseph was a bit Nervous to speak to her because it’s been a long time since he talked with anyone…

As that someone Sits at the table that’s at the end of the shop and started Reading a Book as Joseph was the opposite side of the shop as he was shy to even speak to her as Joseph was about to Stand up and walk up to her His Requested Bread was already done as Joseph pays for the bread and starts to walk out until he looked to that someone as that someone also looked up at him as there was a small Connection or spark that Was Shown as Their Requested Bread was also finished as that someone walked up and pays for the bread as Joseph was already at his house

“Who Is She..?”

Joseph Said as he felt something he never felt before though he Makes a Nice Breakfast Sandwich [Bread, Egg and Sausage] as he finishes eating his breakfast he then walks outside and to a park as he wears his new Headphones to listen to some of his Favorite Music as he was then distracted by a Kingfisher and that someone who was Reading their book as both of them Bumped into each other as his Headphones dropped on the ground and Their book also dropped on the ground as Joseph Picks up their book as that someone also picked up His Headphones…

“I’m S-Sorry here…You…Go……I….Woah…..”

Joseph Had No Words for a moment as he looked at Her Eyes that were Hazel as that someone spoke to Him…

[running-with-kn1ves]

hii! i wanted to ask if you could do a yandere kidnapper x yandere darling? like rich depressed yan that can't imagine living without their darling and ended up taking drastic action, only to find out that darling is way more insane and obsessed passionate than they thought

A/N: I've never been super big on the yan x yan trope but I think this came out kinda cool! Hope this is what you were looking for <3

Synopsis: Sneaking into your beloved's bedroom bent on getting pictures for your stash, you're quickly found by him, who's surprisingly enthusiastic to find you breaking in.

CW: Kidnapping, mutual obsession, shrine dedications, murder (offscreen lol)

WC:3000+

“Nice… new pics for the blog.” 

Your camera click click clicked with a shutter noise each time you rapid fired its capture button, eye so close to the screen you might as well be looking through the viewfinder solely itself. 

“I can see it now… his unkept bedroom revealed, beautiful little face plastered beside this… heap.” 

You looked at the pile of dirty clothes that had yet to be picked up by the estate's cleaning ladies. Well, if you were as filthy rich as he was, you’d probably do the same. Who would waste time cleaning their room when you have the whole world to see? Or in his case, a million press conferences to attend. 

Your eye was drawn to a slightly ajar closet, an odd lock seeming to have been hastily unfastened, now leaving the doors peeking open. Something red was inside. Oh boy, you could hardly contain your excitement. 

What kind of secrets would the famous, wealthy heir Elijah Walsh have in his teensy private closet? Mayhaps some drag dress up that no fan would expect? Dead bodies? Or even, the rumored cocaine stash his poor daddy was accused of hiding? 

You knew Elijah like the back of your hand, unable to imagine any kind of hidden truths that you haven't already discovered. For you, a superfan, (and ultimately, the soulmate he doesn't know about yet) were aware of far more than the average tabloid who didn’t cross trespassing boundaries for love like you had. 

You ripped open the doors without hesitation, snapping pics before even turning the light on. 

But what you saw, was something you weren’t sure you’d want to keep on camera. 

It was you. Well, a picture of you, from some yearbook or singled-out group shot that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact year from. Around your awkward grinning face was a series of items, pinned on a pretty red board like it was a crime scene of sorts. Or maybe… a shrine?

“What the f… is that my underwear??” You looked at the old pair of stretched out undies you had since middle school. Definitely not the pair you’d want some kind of stalker or investigator to get their hands on. 

You saw a few old chapsticks taped to the board, one of which you had been searching for in some old bag you swore you left it in. “I was looking for those!” You grabbed the chapstick and a broken brush, the exact same you thought you had thrown away months ago. 

Out of all the things you hoped to find-- used Q-tips, one of his musky jackets, maybe even some dark sex toys-- this wasn’t on your list. But you couldn’t help the spike in your heart, the flutter that made your toes point inward. 

You had been running this journalist (really a stalker-ish) blog on Elijah since before he got big in the press. You went to the same elementary school and for a short time in middle school, and ever since you couldn’t get his name out of your head. Now, you had a justified reason to keep tabs on him, since his family was currently in the public eye for a variety of deeds. 

Along with professing your obsession with him since childhood, your blog dated the shocking events of his controversies--  keeping it all under an anonymous pen name, of course. You had information news sites couldn’t get their hands on; the dedication you put into watching him was a trait of pride you could never let go. 

Memories of him comforted you at night, and seeing his pretty face in the grocery store magazines hoarded under your bed made you drift off to daydream land where, maybe, you’d be more than just some heavy breathing keyboard jammer fawning over him from a distance.. 

And here was, you. Your things. In his room. Even from the times you climbed the tree beside his window, you never saw this… anomaly of items. 

“What’s this even… mean.” You whispered, dumfounded and growing antsy. Elijah would be coming back now any second, the route of his driver dinging on your phone. 

‘Wait.. does he, know? That I’ve been watching him? Is this all evidence to… incriminate me??’

Worry was creeping up inside of you. But there was no time, not when a heavy vase clunked against your head from behind, letting out a resounding ‘crack!’ from the contact. The chapstick fell from your fingers, camera sliding with you as it lingered loose around your neck. 

The last thing you could think of before darkness hit, was ‘man, I hope I don’t fall on my camera… can’t replace it again. ‘

The unconscious darkness blinding your eyes was snuffed out what seemed hours later, replaced by a buzzing yellow light hanging from the ceiling. You groaned outloud, feeling groggy; an aching pain throbbed in your slumped neck and a sore bump on your scalp. 

‘Got a killer headache…’ 

You tried to pull your hands up to the bump to feel for a bruise, but fell flat with your arms tucked behind your back. You jerked them around, not realizing that they in fact were stuck together-- tied by rope, or some kind of fabric. 

“Thank god, you’re awake. Thought maybe I hit you too hard-- I don’t know what i’d do if that happened.” A familiar voice rang out in the musty, echoing room. 

“What…?” You croaked, trying to look up without facing the wrath of your headache the more light entered your eyes.

“Here, drink some water.” 

A bottle came in front of you, so close to your lips all you had to do was bend down to touch it. You did so without thinking, tasting the sandpaper of a tongue you were stuck with. As soon as the cool water touched your throat, you thought about potential poisoning. Who was this person bottle-feeding you water, why couldn’t you do it yourself?? 

You were too thirsty to care about the consequences, gulping it down as the bottle lifted higher to accommodate you. 

Letting out a pant, you sat back, trying to rub water off your lip with a shoulder shimmy. 

“Where am I? What’s going on--” It all started to come back to you, being in Elijah’s room, trespassing on private property, seeing the closet hoard of you. “Wait, please don’t report me, I promise it isn’t what you think it was…”

“Report you?” The masculine tone scoffed, a hand falling to your shoulder. “I was worried I’d never get a chance like this… you made it so easy, how’d you get in? The window?”

“...Yeah.” You sheepishly replied, looking up at your captor. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

Oh shit. That was Elijah right in front of you. In the flesh, pretty pearly teeth grinning only inches away from your face as his hand rested on your left shoulder, gently massaging it.

“Is your head okay? I feel bad but.. I wasn’t thinking, could only think about how to keep you here.”

Keep you here? Oh no, does that mean the police are on their way??

“Now.. I don’t have to worry about sending people out to your apartment anymore.. No more security cameras, no more blackmail… just you.” He stroked the side of your cheek that was inflamed from falling against the floor. “Damn. I thought i’d have to go through the trouble of taking you in the middle of the night, I had just sent my driver out for my tools too- but, looks like that’s not even an issue anymore!”

Well, sounds like your fears about the cops was no where near the truth. But now, you were even more confused. Taking you? Stalking? Blackmail? It almost felt like you were listening to yourself talk for a second. 

Behind the dark glare covering his eyes, you could see Elijah’s trademark dimples, his pinkish lips covering the slight overbite he had, constantly showing off his front few teeth. You knew those downturned eyes were there somewhere, even with their shine dulled by the shadows of what looked to be a dark cellar around you. 

His hair was unkempt, thick, dark strands covering his ears and going so far to the base of his neck. Wow, you had never seen him look so scruffy, even when watching from outside, seeing him brush his teeth in shirtless pajamas. He looked worried, shirt untucked and pants wrinkled as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“And I’m sorry to say.. But don’t even think about trying to run away now. I made up my mind long ago, and if I find out that--”

“Urk, I wasn’t planning on it. I saw, the uh, dedication board. Or, shrine?”

At that, Elijah stopped. His baby blue eyes went wide for a moment, forgetting that was where he originally found you until now. 

You hid your head down in discomfort.  

“I have the same one…of you, in my apartment… in a box under my bed. There’s even a piece of hair from middleschool that I c..ut, from you.” You held back a nauseous gag at the admission. But here you were, this was your chance to prove how much you loved him, how much dedication you put towards understanding his every move, every like and dislike, the intricacies of his family history. “Do you know why I was in your room?” You asked, wondering if he already had seen your worship blog. 

Elijah took a step back, lowering to sit on a pulled out fold-up chair across from you. His knees touched yours, still dressed in his black slacks and matching loafers, rolled up sleeves on his cream-colored button up that showed he had taken liberties to get more comfortable for the night. 

“I’ll be honest I hadn’t contemplated that… just about how perfect of a chance it was, that you-- my uh, small, obsession since fifth grade.. Was here.” He looked down, a small red tint creeping from his cheeks to the rest of his face. He was bright crimson, like a kid again confessing to his crush behind the bleachers. “But you remember me?? From so long ago? I can’t… Its hard to imagine, i’ve been watching you for years and thought you had completely forgotten about me.”

“Are you kidding?” You watched Elijah rub his eyes, trying to hide his face behind his knuckles. “You’re all over the news, even if I wanted to avoid you. But I haven’t stopped following your every move since, I can’t remember. Every house change, new school, shopping trip with your mother… anytime I was free I dedicated it to watching you, or my--”

You cut yourself off, stepping one foot off into the deep end on a subject you desperately wanted kept hidden. 

“If I knew any better I’d say you sound like a bit of a stalker.” Elijah tried to hide his grin behind his hand, leaning forward to get a closer look at you. “What were you going to say?”

“My…blog.” 

“Blog?” He parroted. 

“It’s a…. Dedication blog. To you.”

“Oh, like an obsessed fan?” He jeered, laughing with bright teeth as he braced his shaking from on his knee.  “Don’t tell me-- you snuck in here for content to your blog?”

“No-! Well, yes. But some of it was going in my private stash…” You pouted, knowing you’d never get that chance again now that you’ve been discovered. Your days of fawning were going to come to a close. 

“So you must be the one who keeps finding a way to get pictures when I never see any reporters around. By, breaking into my home.” 

“That sounds really bad.. But I promise I wasn’t going to try to steal, or hurt you!”

That only made him laugh harder.

“I can’t… can’t believe I never saw you..” He wheezed, face flushed as you sat rotting in embarrassment and shame. “I had drivers chase after you for hours when you disappeared-- but you were five steps behind me the entire time!”

Drivers… your brain clicked two and two together as he tried to stop from giggling while hunched over. 

“...Drivers?” You question. No way this is what yout thought it was.”So you’ve been spying on me?”

“Don’t sound so offended, little stalker,” He settled down, a permanent smile still on his mouth as he dragged the steel chair somehow closer. “ You’ve been hard to catch, but i’ve been keeping tabs on you, as unseemingly as it is. I couldn’t do it myself but I wanted to make sure you were, okay. Before it was safe to bring you home. Though I had nothing to fear about you forgetting me at all!”

You swallowed, mouth having gone back to a dry desert as you contemplated what this all meant. YOUR Elijah was spying on you in your home? Sending out underlings to watch and make sure you were safe? The man who you’d lay your life down for? You fantasized, imagining him at your window, you-- freshly out of the shower…

“What do you mean by home? You don’t mean.. Here, in the estate, right?”

Elijah observed you so fully, it made you nervous. He had never given someone this much attention in interviews, nonetheless in the photos and videos you managed to snap of him alone. And he was looking at you, with those eyes. 

You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Smelling his sandalwood with his knees pressing against yours, his finely ironed shirt toned against him-- right here, in the flesh. You always thought you’d be at a distance, never able to come in contact with him.. And now, you were tied up in his family’s wine cellar. 

“Of course my darling. Where else? I can’t possibly send you back to that dungeon of an apartment. And you,” He stood, intent on coming closer. “Came in so willingly, huh? Didn’t think you’d return my love so… earnestly.”

“W-well who said anything about staying?” You sputtered, looking at his eyes glower in an exceedingly dark fashion. “I mean…. You love me? I’d accepted I’d never be seen by you but… you’ve been watching, the entire time?”

He stood up from his chair with a slight creak, causing your neck to strain upwards to look at him. A small touch caressed the end of your chin, his finger smoothening as it lifted your head to meet his gaze. 

He hummed, Elijah’s eyes full of an expression you’ve never seen him wear before. Something in the mix of a sentimental possession, and a lover. But it was so tender, you couldn’t look away. It was so safe, so familiar. You recognized that look in the mirror, visible in your own eyes when you planted kisses on his printed photo taped to your vanity. 

“Haven’t been able to keep you off my mind since you plucked that leaf off of my spoiled head. Love doesn’t even begin to describe it. I need, you.” 

His gaze was so genuine, your eyes soothed by the glazed over grin he gave you, leaning down to hunch on his knees to be closer to you. 

“I…” You breathed, wondering if this was a dream. “I’ve wanted you to see me.. for so long. Is this real?” 

You stopped working. There was no chance that he had been watching you, wondering and waiting for you to recognize him, when you were longing for his attention, having convinced yourself long ago you’d only be able to possess him from a distance. 

Soft fingers that hadn’t worked a day in their lives creeped up your knees, Elijah’s face only inches away as his eyelids lowed, looking sultry as he watched you squirm. 

“I pray it’s not.” He exhaled. 

“...Well, I’m not staying tied up in this chair, no matter how much you beg. Though… I can’t say I’d mind staying with you. Being with you.. Here, together.”

“Good. It wasn’t really a matter of choice, anyway.” He grinned, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek. 

You involuntarily hummed in content, pressing closer to his lips as you arched out of the chair, longing to touch his warm body. He was kissing you; somebody get you out of these ropes before you jump the man. 

Elijah couldn’t help but grin like a maniac, drugged on the way you relished his touch and pressed your chest forward to him. He rushed kisses to your chin, bites to your ear and licks to your neck with a groan. 

But a sudden stop brought your blissfully closed eyes to an open. 

“I’m sorry… want you too much, it’s getting to the better of me.”

“I’m not sorry,” You mumble, hoping that if this was a dream, you wouldn’t ever wake up. “Please, don’t stop.. I’ve killed for this, don’t stop now.”

“You tempt me too much,” He chuckles, gripping the sides of your chair seat to stablize himself leering over you. “So lucky you were my little creepy stalker, and no one else’s. Wouldn’t be able to control myself otherwise.”

“Stalker, murderer of your old lovers… I have many names.” You joked, but the bitterness on your tongue remembering those placeholders you got rid of was sour. 

“Many talents, too.” Elijah’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re the one that caused my fiances to dissapear? I wondered how they kept doing that,” He looked keenly, seeing right through your little ‘joke’. “Even I couldn’t shoo my mothers’ arranged partners away.”

You tried to look away, embarrassment showing on the way you bit your lips clean and your heartbeat wrapped. “I did it in your name….  I couldn’t stand them thinking they were worth being so close and casual with you! It was infuriating every time I saw it I-- I just  couldn’t take it anymore. Even if it meant I’d never have you.” 

Elijah buried himself in your hair, holding you tight. The squeeze was so personable, hungry and desperate to hold all of you.

 “You have me now, you have me completely. I want you-- what a favor you have done, and you hadn’t even known.”

It felt so good, praised for such hard and hateful work you carried out. Their bodies were mangled, your rage manifesting in the corpses buried under the old golf course near your dingy apartment complex-- and he was happy you did it. Oh, you wanted to hold him, to smell him fully. These binds were stopping you from caressing the lover, the dream you had fantasized holding you to sleep so often, spooning the jackets and dresshirts of his musk in replacement for comfort. 

Elijah still snickered in your ear, playing with the tips of your hair.

“But now, I have to see this blog. I’m too curious-- though I can’t say seeing it will help my small obsession for you. A stalking blog-- too cute.”

You were still so shameful of it, now that he brought it up. You didn’t want your soulmate to see the virtual shrine you had dedicated to him, your unseemly thoughts and hungry urges that were far too detailed and graphic to be shared with their perpetrator. But what choice did you have? He’d find it, one way or another. 

“F..fine. But you’d you atleast untie me now? My arms are getting sore.”

That seemed to cease his light-hearted expression, frowning against your skull as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair. It was the same as he remembered, now a decade later. 

“You’re not gonna try to leave, are you?” He murmured, caressing pinching your ear with a light tone. But something dangerous was held behind it. It was frightening.. But oh, as if the possessiveness didn’t fuel how much more your insides craved him. 

“Do you think I’d really try to go anywhere? Not when you’re so accessible to me now.” You looked over. Elijah’s lashes looked so long up close, sweetly deadpanned eyes watching as if you were being tested, hunted. 

He seemed to find your answer appealing, getting up and pulling something out of his back pocket. Leaning down once more, you saw the switchblade bobbing between his hands, a pretty and simple hunting blade. He leaned over you, pressing it against the knot above your wrists. 

You focused on feeling for the blade as to not get cut, only for your attention to be pulled back to the spoiled one-percenters lips pressing yours directly. It was a shock, more than anything. You wished you had seen it coming, wish you had been better prepared to share your first kiss with your darling! 

Elijah left your mouth nowhere to run as he pressed up against you, fervidly ensnaring your lips between his.

You gladly accepted the pull away for a second kiss, leaning up as much as you could while hiding your desperation. He was so soft, lips gentle and big as they enveloped your bitten ones. 

“Sorry,” Elijah broke away slowly, not straying far. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages.” You watched his eyes stare wonders at your lips, fingers brushing against your trapped ones from behind as the task at hand was forgotten. 

“Me too.” You uttered, pulling forward to kiss him again with an open, insatiable mouth. 

[catsteeth]

She's My Collar

Sandor "The Hound" Clegane x Baratheon Princess

+:✿ Request ✿:+ 

Request: “This request is for sandor of course!! I am all for angsty, yearning sandor clegane!! My train of thought is all over the place but heres a list of something I hope you could include in the one shot: •hozier level yearning •unrequited love/want •perhaps stark!reader or baratheon!reader •fleeting interactions like something small but it sticks with sandor •“im not a religious man but ill follow her” kinda vibe if that makes any sense!!" CW: MDNI, ANGST, afab reader, alcohol consumption, unrequited love, yearning, misogyny, arranged marriage, violence, joffrey being joffrey, mention of death.  A/N: He’s pathetic and I love it

Word Count: 5K

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The girl was born a Baratheon, born to Robert Baratheon during a previous marriage. Her mother, born to some wealthy house. But her memory would be lost in time after she died in childbirth. Robert did not speak of her. Cersei despised the mention of her name. So not much was known of her. Though she must’ve been pretty, as the girl born to Robert Baratheon was a girl of beauty. And soon after her mother’s death, Robert married Cersei Lannister. 

Either due to jealousy or embarrassment Cersei would treat the girl with malice, and hostility. But unlike the King's eldest son, the girl was kind and good. 

The boy was born to a man who wanted nothing more than for his sons to be knights of the Seven Kingdoms. His ambitions blinded him, allowing his eldest son Gregor to commit horrid acts. So long as the boy was a knight, none else mattered. The man's youngest son was kind. He was just a boy, no more than six years old. 

The little boy dreamed of being a knight just as his father did. Dreamed on the good deeds he would do in the name of his king and the Seven Kingdoms. Though those dreams would be dashed and discarded once the boy's older brother showed him the cruelty the world is capable of. The cruelty he was capable of. The cruelty the world rewarded him for. 

The boy grew into The Hound, Sandor Clegane the second most feared man in the Seven Kingdoms. The girl grew into a princess, one hated by her stepmother and eldest half brother. But loved by her father, her half siblings, the realm, and by a Hound.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

The Hound and the princess grew alongside one another most of his life. He could remember when he and she were much younger. The Lannisters and the Baratheons were traveling across the Stormlands. It was a hard journey, soon food became scarce. Naturally the scraps of whatever the royals did not eat were left to the guards and any other member of the traveling crew. But the princess would offer a young hound the meat from her plate every night.  He always hesitated, but was too hungry to deny her charity. She never held her charitable act over him, never even mentioned it. 

He was not one to appreciate beauty, nor was he one to indulge himself in fantasies of love. But the princess’s beauty was one that haunted Sandor. His whole life he looked at her as though she were the maiden herself. And the princess did not look upon the Hound with grotesque curiosity. Nor did she flaunt his presence to others in a manner of threatening them. No, the princess was kind towards him, kind when she did not have to be. He often found kindness a weakness in people, but in her kindness he found a comfort. 

The girl was different from her father, different from her brother. She was kind, she was honest, and he would follow her as if she was a God.  

He could also remember the first time she bestowed her favor onto him. 

Sandor never feared the tourneys he fought in. He did not fear the joust, he did not fear the competitors. What he did not like was the tradition of asking a noble lady for her favor. 

Sandor never liked this tradition. Never liked having to speak to noble ladies much less ask them to favor him. Not only was it ridiculous to him, the ladies often grimaced at his gesture. But at this tourney, and every tourney after it, he would pick the lady he wished to have picked each time before. 

As he rode his intimidatingly large black ill tempered stallion around the tournament pit. He looked up at all the noble ladies above him, looking down at him. They all sneered at his gaze, wishing not to be picked. The noble men all snickered amongst one another. But there was one person who looked upon him with indifferent eyes. The Baratheon girl’s eyes were not filled with pity, disgust, nor anticipation for the violence he was about to insight for the high lord's entertainment. She simply watched him with her same kind eyes. 

He did not think much of it, it came naturally to him as he stopped his horse in front of the royal family's seating. “I ask the favor of the Princess.” He said begrudgingly. 

The princess rose from her seat with a smile. She grabbed a ring of florals and silk. The flowers were yellow and the silk ribbon was black, the colors of both her house and his. As she approached him, she smiled upon him and placed the favor upon his joust. “I wish you good fortune, Sandor Clegane.” Sandor, he did not know she knew his name. Her voice itself was gentle and hushed, only for him to hear. Her smile was gentle and warm, one that he would have killed to see each night. One that he won the tourney for. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

Once, Joffrey had decided that a servant boy had shot him a momentary disrespectful glance. If he had, it would not have been unwarranted, though who is to say if he even did. Joffrey, sometimes bored, would pretend small disrespectful gestures were made against him. Allowing him to justify any horrid act he found amusement in subjecting any poor soul to. 

“I am sorry, my prince! Please if you would give me another chance-” The servant boy pleaded on his hands and knees. His cheek red from the blow Ser Meryn had given him moments before. 

Sandor never liked being Joffrey's sworn shield. Never liked that blonde cunt at all. Whenever he wanted to feel powerful, wanted to hurt someone weaker than him for no good reason, it bored and irritated him. 

Though it hardly ever embarrassed him, until she stepped into that room.

“Brother stop this!” The Baratheon princess commanded with a look of disgust. Sandor, though he’d not laid a hand on the boy, swallowed hard and stood straighter at her sudden presence. He worried how she’d look at him now, would her kind eyes fade for him?

“Why should I?” Joffrey asked her back with a raised brow.

The girl, bravely scoffed and took a few steps closer to her younger ‘brother’, “Because I commanded you to.” She said with angry eyes, an expression Sandor rarely saw from her. She looked beautiful even when she was angry.

Joffrey narrowed his eyes at her, “Who are you to command anything of me?” he stifled a laugh which only enraged her more. And only enraged Sandor more.

She took another step closer to him. Her hand gently trailed along the extravagantly dressed wooden table. “Your elder sister, the Kings first born-” 

“First born daughter.” Joffrey finished her words for her. “Daughter. You are not heir to anything. I’ll be king one day and you, a princess for a lifetime.” He said laughing as if he were amused by some great jest. “And as your king, I could have anything done to you that I like.” He walked closer to her, with a threatening gaze. “In fact, as heir to the throne, I could do anything I like. I could have Ser Meryn hold you down and-”  And with that the girl's temper got the better of her. She grasped a glass goblet from the table she stood by, and threw it with great force at her brother’s feet. The goblet shattered into a hundred pieces. Bits of it flew and cut Joffrey’s right hand. And some other bits cut Sandor’s cheek, not deeply but enough to bleed. “You cannot do that!” His shrill voice cracked as he grasped hold of bleeding palm.

“Clearly I can.” The girl said with little emotion. It would have made Sandor laugh if he didn’t have to worry about the other royal guards. He worried that they would put their filthy hands on you, or would be foolish enough to draw their swords. 

Though none would. The guards were shocked by the scene. This princess had never done so much as raised her voice, and now she was assaulting their future kind. They had to think of defending one of the King’s children from the other. They stood, unsure of how to act.

Furiously Joffrey shouted, “I’ll tell my mother!” Knowing his father would do nothing but ridicule him.

The princess raised her hand, and slapped the boy across the cheek, “Tell her I did that as well.” She added. 

Her slap was enough to leave a red imprint across the boy's face.

In a fit of anger, the young prince grabbed hold of his sword. Prepared to draw its blade and point it at the princess. Just before Sandor could grab the prince, a different Kingsgaurd stepped between the two royals. “Stop this!” the man commanded. Joffrey let go of the sword's hilt and the girl began to walk away, ready to face whatever punishment her step mother desired. 

With her back turned, and the guards' attentions divided. Joffrey ceased his moment, and drew the thin blade of his sword and readied himself to strike the princess. 

“Boy!” The princess turned back as the Hound’s loud voice boomed out through the dining hall. She was stunned by the sight before her. The prince’s attack was stopped by the Hound ceasing the blade with his bare hand. Blood from his hand trickled down the blade of the sword.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Soon the two royal children were brought before their father the King.

“How the fuck did any of this happen? You are meant to protect my blood!” King Robert questioned the KingsGuard furiously. 

“Never had to protect a princess from a prince.” Ser Meryn attempted to explain, “Or a prince from a princess.” He said in a lower tone that angered Joffrey.

“Shut up!” King Robert angrily shouted, sick of hearing whatever excuse they had. He sat back in his chair, and huffed loudly. He looked between his two children. “Well done, my girl.” He said in a gruff low tone.

Joffrey looked surprised his father would congratulate her on striking her brother. “But look what she-“ Joffrey began, holding up his cut palm.

Though Robert interrupted him, “How could you ever be a king if you cannot win a fight against a woman?” 

“Father!” Joffrey’s shrill voice shouted, 

“Leave!” Robert shouted back. With an infuriated huff, Joffrey left accompanied with two guards by his side. Though Sandor stayed in the room. “Girl, come ‘ere.” Robert commanded much softer to his daughter, waving his hand, beckoning her to come closer. 

She did as her king commanded. Stepped closer to him with her head lowered. Robert stood before her, and held her chin up with his fingers. “You’re more of a man than your brother.” He said proudly. He meant it as a complement, it was a rare thing to receive as a child of Roberts. With a sigh he patted the girl on the back, “Go on then.” He said softly dismissing her. 

She nodded and took her leave as her father requested. 

As the girl left, Sandor turned to follow her out. Though the King’s voice beckoned out, stopping him in his steps. “Dog.” Sandor stopped, and turned towards the King, “If that yellow haired shit lays a hand on my girl you beat him.” The King commanded. Sandor needed no other instruction. He was quite content to do so. “Understood?” The King pressed.

Sandor nodded, “Aye.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As the Hound walked down the Halls of the keep, he saw the princess walking in the opposite direction. He tried to keep his eyes ahead, not looking at her at all. 

Though his illusion of disinterest did not deter the girl, “I beg pardon, ser.” Her serene voice called out gently. It felt like a cool breeze on a hot day, a relief. 

Sandor looked up at her, hoping she was not speaking to him. If she was, he knew whatever words she spoke to him would haunt his thoughts. As he looked at her, he knew she was speaking to him. He swallowed and then croaked out, “I’m no ser.” 

The Baratheon princess shook her head, “No. You are more true than any knight.” He knew her words would haunt him, but now they would torture him. The girl stepped forward, making him almost flinch, “All the knights in that room were content to let my brother kill me. What you did today-“

The girl began but the Hound interrupted her, knowing if she thanked him, his stomach might turn. “It’s my duty to protect you.” He grumbled, attempting to not look the girl in the eyes. Her beautiful eyes.

“I’d call it brave.” She chimed, making him stop and turn to face her once again. He was about to tell her it was not brave but she continued, “But I know you’d not. You are a hard man with many scars. You needn’t courage, nor praise. But I thank you for what you've done.” 

Fuck.

He was never thanked for doing his duty. Never thanked for anything. He was commanded and he did as he was told. 

Her eyes wandered over the Hound’s face. It made him feel weak, for the first time in a very long time. “I am sorry-” She said, her voice sickeningly sweet. Sandor looked at her with confusion, “Are you hurt?” She asked as she reached her hand towards the cut on his cheek. Her sudden movement made him flinch. 

“No.” He rasped quickly. 

The girl however was scared of the Hound. She continued forward and placed a hand on the Hounds shoulder. Even though her hand was separated from his skin by his thick armor, he still felt a chill run over his body. “Oh but you are-” She began, concerned for him. A feeling that was new for him.

“It’s a scratch.” Sandor interrupted the girl.

She shook her head, “Still, I caused it.” The girl reached into the neckline of her gown, making Sandor almost blush. Such a strange thing, a man who had seen every part of a woman, and every sexual act no matter how deviant in almost every brothel in KingsLanding would blush at such a thing. She pulled out a handkerchief embroidered with her name, “Take this.” She said holding it out to him.

He could not take it. He could not, no matter how badly he wanted to. “Don’t need it-” 

“I command you to take it, as your princess.” The girl said without hesitation. Reluctantly Sandor grabbed the cloth, “I am sorry.” She said once more before continuing on and walking past Sandor. 

She did not know that he would worship that cloth. Keep it in his armor, and keep it in his rooms when he slept. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

When Robert mixed drinking and hunting too often, a boar attacked him. Leaving him so injured he was on a deathbed.

The princess visited her father each day, morning, noon, and night. And when he died, she stayed confined to her chambers. Her only company she’d allow was her Septa. Though the girl was grown enough to be without a Septa, hers was closer to a mother. Since the girl never had one, her septa was there for all her girlhood. So she insisted on keeping around. 

Sandor often checked on the girl, though of course she was not wise to this. 

He would open her door, just a crack. He would listen in just to be sure she was alright. One day when he decided to open her door he heard her and her Septa speaking plainly. 

“Do you think the boar was the Gods doing?” The girl asked as she stared out her window with a stoic and dazed expression.

“Hm?” Her septa responded, looking up from the needlepoint she mindlessly toyed at.

The girl did not look at her septa. Simply continued to stare out her window into nothingness. She paused for a moment, not speaking, “I’d a dream the Stranger came to those woods. He changed into a boar and killed my father for his deviance.” She spoke of such morbid dreams with no emotion attached to it at all.

“How awful.” Her septa gasped, throwing her needle point down onto the table in front of her. “No dear girl I don’t think it was.” She said more gently, “You dream too much.” 

The girl shrugged, still not looking at the old woman. “I suppose I’m trying to find the Gods in everything I do.” 

“Prayer is best for that. Not such morbid dreams.” The old Septa said, picking her needle point back up. 

The girl did not respond for a moment, still simply staring out into nothing. “Do you think they’re real?” She asked softly and without shame. “Do you truly believe it? Never did you doubt it?” She asked, finally looking at the Old Septa.

“They are real.” She asserted sternly, “You believe they aren’t?” 

The girl sighed, not wanting for a lecture, “I know the Gods are a necessity for people. Like food, water. I know they must exist. But I also know they don’t.” She said calmly. Her words stuck with Sandor like a knife driven into his back.

“What a terrible thing to say.” Her septa said shocked.

“Is it?” The girl's eyes narrowed in confusion, “It’s just my thoughts.”

The septa shook her head looking back to her needle point. “You think too much, dear girl.” 

The girl sighed and went back to looking out her window, “Seems I do too much and not enough.”

Without many words at all, this lonely girl would consume Sandor’s every thought. She was smart and kind. Two things Sandor did not think of himself. 

He did not believe in the Gods, because if there were Gods, why did they punish this girl? Perhaps she was his punishment. Perhaps he was hers. Perhaps it was the world that was their punishment. 

This girl should be queen. She’d be a good one, a better one then her cunt brother. She’d be loved by the small folk and no doubt able to keep some kind of peace, even with the war. She’d not let her pride keep the seventh kingdom. If they wanted independence they’d have it. Clearly they could fight well enough on their own. But she was not queen. But she was his. 

How her hair laid against the delicate fabric of her pillow. She was all too precious for his affections. He couldn’t help it really, he felt drawn towards her. Felt a stronger pull towards her than he felt towards anything, even food or water. But he’d never subject her to his presence. 

He simply needed to see her, needed to know she was safe.

She slept sweetly, her breathing though loud was the calmest noise he’d heard. It was like the sounds of waves meeting the sands. 

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes he would fantasize about what it would feel like to sleep beside her. For her to invite him into her bed. To sleep in his arms. He’d feel her heartbeat against his own. He’d smell her scent, and feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. He never slept well, but he believed if she was in his arms, perhaps he could. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As time went by, the royal family debated what to do with the girl. She was not a Baratheon Lannister, she was the reminder of Robert's first marriage, a reminder that Joffrey was not the true king. 

Sandor stood guard by the small council’s chamber door as he heard the girl’s step mother Cersei say, “She’s as wild as the boar that killed her father. No man would want her, she is too difficult. So give her to the Tyrell’s, a poisoned gift.” 

Overcome with a myriad of emotions, anger, sadness, and grief, Sandor rushed to the girl's chambers. 

Sandor stood behind her door. His hand firmly grasped the door handle, and his forehead rested against the wood of the door.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. 

He wanted to open the door, ask- no beg you to run away with him. He wanted to tell you all the things he felt for you. Wanted to protect you. 

But he was a second son, a kingsguard, he had no land, and no money. He had nothing to offer you, he didn’t even have a handsome face to bargain with. 

And so, he let the handle of the door go, and he walked down the hall. He considered it mercy. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Instead of subjecting that poor girl to his company he decided to subject tavern dwellers to him instead. That night, as her marriage was announced, Sandor sank into his cups.

Though even there he was not protected from talks of her betroval. 

Beside Sandor at another table were four men, 

“Say what you will, I think it’s a perfect match! Loras Tyrell loves a Baratheon!” Some oaf shouted as he slammed his cup onto the table laughing. 

“Aye but she’s missin’ a cock now isn’t she!” A shorter guard shouted out.

Sandor wanted to break the fool's jaws for speaking of her situation with such amusement. “Too bad for Loras, and too bad for all the other men in the realm!” A bald guard added,

The shorter guard raised his cup, “Hear hear. I’ll miss seeing that girl… Miss seeing her bend over to pick flowers.” 

The bald guard nodded in a facade of sadness, “Aye that ass will be missed-”

“No, her pair of tits will be missed!” The fatter guard spoke up.

“Nay her cunt! Ah and what a waste she’ll be giving it to a boy whore.” One of the men said, it was enough for Sandor to slam his cup onto the table in anger. He was trying with all his might to hold onto his restraint.

Though this did not go unnoticed by the men at the table. The oafish one spoke up again, “What of you Clegane?” He said getting closer to the Hound, “You guard that sweet stag so loyally. Surely you’ve thought of what her cunt tastes like-” 

Without another thought, Sandor took the man by the back of his head and slammed it into the table. His nose broke and his teeth cracked. Sandor took his dagger out and stabbed it through the man's hand. His blade took one of the man’s fingers. 

Sandor stood, taking his drink with him, “You speak to me like that again, I’ll take more than a finger.” He warned as he left the tavern in a huff.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

Against his better judgment, that night Sandor checked in on that girl. 

She was with her Septa again. He hoped that she were alone, if she were perhaps in his drunken state he’d have actually begged her to run off with him.

“My father would never have allowed this.” The girl said with a scared and sorrowful waiver of her voice, “Though I suppose it will be a relief to be gone from this place.” She sniffled, “I just don’t want to be forgotten.” 

“You’ll not be forgotten, dear girl.” Her Septa said petting her hair. 

“I suppose if I were to marry anyone in this city it would be him.” She shrugged, “But, I am unsure of how I could please him. You know of his nature. Know of his relationship with my uncle. I care not for any moral righteousness and I hold no judgment of it. But how could I ever make him happy?” She asked desperately, frightened by the prospects of her future. 

Her Septa grasped the girl by her shoulders tightly, “You will make him happy by giving his children royal blood.” 

“And how can I even do that?” The girl put her face into her hands,

“You are familiar with the act, I have explained it-”

The girl interrupted, “I won’t want it.”

Her Septa sighed, “A dreadful duty for some wives. Just lay there. Look at the ceiling and memorize the pattern of the trim. Count the seconds. Anything to let your mind wander away from your body.” She tried her best to comfort the girl, but clearly was doing nothing to help the girl’s fear.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As Sandor took leave of his duties. He threw off his armor without caution, and nearly ripped his clothing off himself. He was angry, no, he was enraged. 

This girl did not deserve this. She deserved none of the shit those blonde shits put her through. And the words of ‘advice’ given to her by her septa only enraged him more. She should have told her to slip poison in his wine. 

Sandor sat down on his bed in his small clothes with a huff. His weight made the bed creek and bow. He drank from a wineskin as he thought of it all. Soon his anger subsided, replaced with a defeated sorrow. 

Naught could be done for her. This much he knew for certain.

So, after his wineskin ran dry he laid down. Finally allowing his body to rest even though his mind could not.

As he laid there, stripped of his armor and steel. As his sensitive skin laid against the rough material of his bedding he was reminded once more that he, and his body were punished. Punished by both too much, and not enough.

Too much combat, too much drinking, too many tourneys, too many cuts and bruises. So much he endured, and his body was punished for it. He ached and felt pains all over his body all the time. His scars were sensitive and hurt in warm bath water. 

But as he laid there he was again reminded how he had not enough. Not enough gentle touches, enough love and care. Though of course he’d never admit it to anyone. His body felt truly alone in his bed. He wished he could have felt her around him. He’d fucked before, that would not shock anyone. But he’d never made love to anyone. And Gods did he need to. 

He thought of it often, kissing her. He’d do it gently. He’d be gentle with her. She deserved gentleness. He’d kiss her while he held her face in his palms. Kiss her neck, press his lips against her skin and lick where she was most sensitive- wherever those spots were. Gods he wanted to know where they were. 

He felt shameful for thinking this way, he really did. He was no better than those men in that tavern. But, he’d be good to her.

He’d make her his wife, in the eyes of The Seven. He’d build her a home. It wouldn’t be like the one she’d been brought up in. Not a castle, but a house made of stone and wood. He’d give her safety, love. And as his hand began to wonder his punished body he thought of how he’d give her children.

He wished to know how her body would feel in hands. How it would feel to have his hands caress her breasts, the curves of her body, the soft plumpness of her belly. He wondered how it would feel to be inside of her. How his cock would feel to slide in and out of her slick, warm, inviting cunt. He did not know, but he did know it would have felt oh so much better than his calassed hand that was wrapped around his length now. 

Though his actions were vulgar and sexual, he did not think of it as that. He couldn’t think of her for long without feeling the need to have her. To be close to her. To please her. To hold her close and make her feel safe under his touch, to make her feel loved and desired with his body, his hands, and his mouth. 

He thought of what her septa told her. That she’d have to lay down and take it. If she was with him she’d want it, she’d never be forced. Bedding would be a pleasure not a duty.

His groans loudened, and his breathing quickened as he thought of how she’d ask him for it. How gentle her touch would feel on his ruined skin. 

Soon he was awoken from his day dream as the hot splash of his release jolted his mind back to reality. 

He did not have her, and she for all he knew, did not want him. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

And so the Hound was left with nothing to do but sit and watch as the love of his life was preparing to leave his life forever. 

He felt his heart breaking as he escorted the royals to the docks with the rest of the Kingsguard. He felt his eyes water as she began to step onto the dock, and approach the boat that would take her away from him. 

Naught could be done for her. 

So without a word the Hound offered the girl his hand. She took it, gently. He helped her into the boat. Her gaze fell onto him, and Gods it felt warm. He wanted to cut through them all. Wanted to take her off that boat and ride her away on Stranger. He’d do all the things he thought of the night before. Build her a home, keep her safe, and he’d love her. But they didn’t live in that world. 

The princess would marry that Tyrell. She’d have his sons, whether she wanted it or not. And she would never know how much her dog loved her.

The Hound watched as the boat sailed away with the girl he had loved all his life.

It’s the world that’s awful.

Thank you so much for your request! It was so much fun to write!!

Requester: @rhinestonecowboysworld

[woniedarlin]

Rich in Heart: Yang Jungwon

pairing: Jungwon x rich girl! reader

synopsis: Your parents have always been proud of the person you have become, knowing that they raised a child with strong values and a gentle heart. You have always been grateful for the opportunities you have been given in life, and you recognize how fortunate you are. This has made you a kind and thoughtful person, even when others may misunderstand or assume the worst about you. So what would happen if Jungwon wasn’t able to pay for his lunch at the cafeteria but you stepped forward and helped him, initially proving him wrong with his assumptions?

warnings: you are very bold like no joke. Mentions of punching, bruise, thieving, LOTS AND LOTS OF CURSING, you two are flirty but mostly you, swatting your bum (?). A little suggestive, just a tiny one like a sprinkle of salt. Descriptions might not fit to your own, Let me know if there is more!

note: Hi my lovely darlings, this story has been on my mind and it took me to write it for a while. I hope you will love it. Reading discretion is advised.

caution: This story may inspire you to pay for Jungwon’s school lunch in an attempt to win his heart.

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @13tter @chlorinecake

Rich in Heart pt. 2

You are very spoiled by your parents. A wealthy girl, like crazy rich, always dressed in the latest luxurious and fashionable clothing. Your family is extraordinarily wealthy, making you one of the richest girls in your town. Because of your affluence, many people assume you have a bratty attitude and look down on others.

However, this couldn’t be further from the truth. You are, in fact, a sweetheart. Your parents instilled good values in you from a young age, teaching you the importance of kindness, humility, and respect for others. When people meet you, they are often taken aback by you.

Jungwon, on the other hand, is a student who lived a moderate life. He didn’t have any of the luxuries or experiences you did, but he was happy nonetheless. He knew of you—well, who didn’t? Though you two had never interacted, he was aware of your reputation and had his own assumptions about you.

But little did he know, you were not at all what he expected.

Jungwon stood at the lunch counter, tray of food in hand, as the lunch lady tallied up the amount. “That will be 5,000 won,” she said with a warm smile.

Jungwon reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. His smile faltered as he realized he didn’t have enough money. He counted the bills and coins he had, coming up short by a few hundred won.

A small frown tugged at the corners of Jungwon’s mouth as he stared down at the money in his hand. He mentally scolded himself—he should’ve double-checked his wallet before he got in line to buy food, but he was so preoccupied with the hunger gnawing at him that it slipped his mind. Now, he found himself in a bit of a predicament. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. He turned around, and his heart seemed to stop beating for a second the moment he saw you, holding a tray of food as well.

You stepped forward, setting your tray down before taking out your wallet and handing the money to the lunch lady. “Here, I got it,” you said with a warm smile.

Jungwon’s eyes widened in surprise as you stepped in front of him and offered to pay for his food, his cheeks heating up in a light blush. He hesitantly held out his wallet to you, watching as you plucked out the money with ease.

“Oh, uh, you don’t have to—” he started, only for you to brush off his protest with a small shake of your head.

“It’s fine, it’s already paid,” you replied, waving off his concerns.

Jungwon was still speechless.

For the past few years, you were a name he’d heard all over the campus—the daughter of a wealthy businessman, infamous for your wealth and your appearance. He had always assumed you were pampered and haughty, like most kids who came from rich families. He had never expected you to be so…kind. So…considerate.

“Uh…thanks,” he mumbled quietly, not knowing what else to say.

“No problem,” you said cheerfully.

You were completely different from his assumptions. You were the epitome of sweetness. Even though you came from a rich background, you were just as gentle and sweet as your appearance.

He nervously cleared his throat, searching for something to say as he desperately tried to think of any possible conversation starter. But his mind suddenly went blank.

You tilted your head, breaking his thoughts. “You’re Jungwon, right? I’ve seen you around.”

Jungwon nodded quickly, surprised that you knew his name. Even though everyone knew you, it hadn’t occurred to him that you might know his name as well.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he confirmed. After a moment of silence, he gathered enough courage to speak again. “And you are…well, everyone knows you, so no introduction needed.”

You laughed softly. “I suppose that’s true. But it’s nice to finally talk to you, Jungwon.”

He smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. “Yeah, it’s nice to talk to you too.”

You grinned and looked around the cafeteria. “I’ve noticed that the tables here are all packed. Want to sit at mine? My dad made the school reserve a table for me to sit at the cafeteria so I wouldn’t have to fight for a spot.”

Jungwon followed your gaze, noting the lack of empty tables. He couldn't believe it. Not only did you pay for his lunch, but now you were offering to let him sit with you at your reserved table. It was completely unfathomable to him. He had never imagined himself sitting beside you, the daughter of one of the wealthiest businessmen around.

He nodded, trying to keep his cool.

You made your way across the crowded cafeteria, the lunchroom noisy with chatter and laughter. Most students turned their heads as you passed, staring at the sight of the wealthy girl and the not-so-wealthy boy walking together.

Jungwon was hyper-aware of the eyes on them, and a small, uncomfortable pang filled his chest as he was reminded of the stark social differences between you. But he pushed those thoughts aside and followed you to the reserved table, taking a seat next to you.

He sat down next to you, still trying to comprehend what was happening. He glanced around discreetly, meeting several pairs of eyes from other students. Despite the attention, he tried to focus on the food in front of him.

He reached out for a fork and stabbed at a piece of food, clearing his throat before speaking quietly. “Thanks again. For paying for my food…and for letting me sit here.”

“No need to thank me, Jungwon,” you said with a warm smile, waving off his gratitude like it was no big deal. “I couldn’t just let you go hungry, could I?”

Jungwon’s heart skipped another beat at your casual response. You were so nonchalant about the whole thing like it was just a normal occurrence. He had to remind himself that you were used to this kind of thing, having grown up in a wealthy family and surrounded by extravagance and luxury.

He let out a small huff, trying to mimic your nonchalant attitude. But as he began eating, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was secretly basking in the fact that he was sitting at a table with you, the most beautiful and sought-after girl in the school.

Taking a bite of his food, he decided to ask, feeling a bit bold, “So, do you always rescue people in the cafeteria?”

You laughed at his words, a melodic sound that seemed to draw the attention of everyone nearby. “Only when they look like they need it,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye. “What about you? Do you always find yourself short on lunch money?”

Jungwon chuckled, a sheepish smile appearing on his face at your question. He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed knowing that he looked like a broke student in front of a very wealthy girl.

“Only on days when I forget to check my wallet. But I guess it worked out today, thanks to you.”

He paused, taking another bite. He then decided to turn the tables on you, attempting to be more bold. “So, is this part of your daily routine? Paying for strangers’ lunches and granting them the privilege of sitting at your exclusive reserved table? Or am I just lucky?” He gave you a grin.

You playfully flirted with him, “Not exactly. I only do it for cute strangers.”

He was surprised at how easily you referred to him as “cute” so nonchalantly. Nobody had ever called him cute before. Well..only his mom and his grandmother.

He chuckled, trying to come up with a witty response to your flirty banter. “Is that so? Well, I guess I should feel honored then, huh?”

“Exactly,” you replied, your eyes twinkling with amusement. You took a bite of your food, still smiling.

Jungwon chuckled again, feeling both shyness and excitement at your directness. It was hard not to feel flustered in your presence, especially with the way you were casually calling him cute and flirting with him.

He had never imagined himself in this situation, especially not with you. He felt like the luckiest guy in the schoolyard.

He’d definitely tell all about it to his friends later.

🎩

Despite the different backgrounds, you two quickly developed a strong bond. Over the weeks that followed, you two found yourselves spending more and more time together.

The cafeteria incident was only the beginning. Once Jungwon got over his initial shock and somewhat shyness, he discovered that you were genuinely down-to-earth and easy to talk to. You treated him like any other person, without any trace of the haughtiness he had originally expected.

He found himself looking forward to his days at school, knowing that he would get to see you each day.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Jungwon and you were walking together through the streets, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city.

As they passed by different shops and stores, Jungwon pointed to a small café, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh, hey, have you been to that café over there?” He pointed to a cute cafe with outdoor seating. “I heard they have great pastries.”

‘’Wanna go?” you tilted your head, a playful glint in your eye.

Jungwon nodded, smiling as he agreed. “Yeah, sure. I’ve been meaning to try it out for a while. Let’s grab a seat.” He led the way, holding the door open for you as you entered the café. The pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, instantly making him even hungrier.

“Go find a good table. I’ll grab us something to eat,” he said, heading towards the counter.

You nodded and made your way to a cozy corner table by the window, watching as Jungwon waited in line at the counter. His eyes scanned the menu board, and after a moment of contemplating, he placed your orders, grabbing a few pastries and a couple of drinks. Balancing the tray of food carefully, he made his way back to the table where you were waiting, setting down the items on the tabletop.

“Hope you like what I chose.” He sat down across from you, pushing one of the pastries in your direction, along with a drink.

“Thanks for paying for it. You didn’t have to,” you said, feeling a bit guilty for not offering to split the cost.

Jungwon shook his head, waving off your thanks with a casual shrug. “It’s no big deal. I wanted to treat you.”

He picked up one of the pastries and took a bite, savoring the flavor. Then, he looked at you with a smile. “Consider it a small payback for paying for my lunch that one time, remember?”

You chuckled, remembering the cafeteria incident. “I guess we’re even now, huh?”

Jungwon nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I guess we are. It’s nice to finally repay the favor. And it’s nice to have a friend like you.”

The word “friend” slipped out of his mouth automatically, and he hoped it didn’t sound too presumptuous. But truthfully, he couldn’t imagine calling you anything other than a friend. He felt comfortable around you like he could be himself without any pretense.

“Ouch…only a friend? That hurts,” you said, acting like it hurt, partially because you were interested in him.

He knew you were probably just joking around, but the thought of you being “hurt” by the idea of just being friends sent a pang to his chest. He tried to keep his voice casual as he responded, trying to play along with your lighthearted banter despite accidentally friendzoning you, which he never even intended to do in the first place. “Sorry, would it be better if it’s my future girlfriend?”

You feigned offense with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, so now I’m just a placeholder until your future girlfriend comes along?”

“No, no, I’d never make you a placeholder!” He paused, pretending to be deep in thought. “Maybe I’ll just keep you around as a backup girlfriend then.”

“Well, I’m sorry but consider this a breakup already!” you said, crossing your arms with mock indignation.

Jungwon mock-gasped, pretending to be devastated. “A breakup? But we weren’t even officially together yet!”

“Pfft,” you laughed, unable to maintain the act any longer.

Jungwon couldn’t help but laugh along with you. He found himself even more smitten with you than he was before. He quickly composed himself, wiping away his “tears.”

“You’re heartless,” he mimicked you, crossing his arms. “I can’t believe you’re already breaking up with me after, like, five minutes of being my girlfriend. That’s a new record even for me.” He chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest as he bantered with you.

“You know what? We should eat before we embarrass ourselves,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

Jungwon laughed, amused by your suggestion. “You’re probably right. We’re getting a little too ridiculous here.” He picked up his pastry again, taking a bite as he tried to suppress his laughter.

After finishing their snacks and laughing together, Jungwon and you decided it was time to leave the cafe. He watched as you grabbed your bag then you two stepped out onto the street. The sunlight dazzled his eyes for a moment, and he shielded his eyes from the brightness before turning to you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Where to next?”

“Actually, I was thinking that we could—” your words were abruptly cut off as a guy snatched your bag and ran away.

Jungwon was completely unprepared for the sudden shift in the mood. One moment, you were walking together, discussing your next destination, and the next, a man came out of nowhere, snatching your bag and fleeing.

“Your bag!” he yelled as the thief fled.

Unexpectedly for Jungwon, you immediately started running. Your heels didn't bother you as you chased the guy. “Give me my bag back, you bitch!”

Jungwon was stunned by your immediate reaction, watching as you broke into a sprint, chasing after the thief in your high heels like it was nothing. He snapped out of it and started running after you, trying to catch up.

He yelled as he ran, feeling a surge of pride, “Yeah! Get that shithead!”

Eventually, you grabbed an umbrella from a nearby holder and threw it at the guy.

As Jungwon caught up to you, panting heavily, he witnessed the umbrella hitting the thief's legs. The man stumbled and fell to the ground with a loud yell, the stolen bag slipping out of his hands. The scene was surreal, like something out of a movie.

Jungwon couldn’t help but feel impressed by your quick thinking, taking down the thief effortlessly. He ran up to you, still catching his breath. "Goddamn. She’s fast and with heels too?" he thought to himself.

You approached the downed thief and tried to snatch the bag back from him. But the man was holding onto it tightly, refusing to give it up. “Bitch? Give me that!” you yelled at the thief.

The thief yelled at you, trying to taunt you, but before he could say anything else, you landed a solid punch on his face, leaving him reeling in pain.

"That’s my girl," Jungwon said under his breath, feeling proud of your fighting spirit and willingness to defend yourself.

“Geez lady! All that for a bag?” the thief said as he lay on the ground.

“This is not just a bag, this is Prada bitch,” you said before taking the bag completely and telling a nearby police officer to take him away. Then you walked back towards Jungwon.

He walked over to you, a mixture of admiration and concern visible on his face. He studied you for a moment, taking in your disheveled appearance and messy hair. Despite everything that had just happened, you were still the most gorgeous girl he had ever laid eyes on. “You alright?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” you replied,

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as you responded that you were all right. He surveyed you again, checking for any signs of injury or distress. “You sure?” he pressed. “That was intense. You punched that guy straight in the face.”

He couldn’t help but think it was kind of hot, seeing you defend your property like that. Shaking the thought out of his head, he took a step closer to you, his tone softer now. “You scared me.”

Your heart felt warm at his concern. “I’m so sorry,” you said, pulling him into a hug.

Jungwon was caught off guard by your sudden hug, but he quickly melted into it. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, feeling the warmth and comfort of your embrace.

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m just glad you’re not hurt,” he spoke into your hair. The initial panic and fear he had felt during the chase slowly ebbed away, replaced by both relief and affection. “Such a badass, though.”

“I know,” you said, not planning to pull away from the hug.

Jungwon chuckled, burying his face into your shoulder. He found himself enjoying this unexpected moment of intimacy, liking the feeling of you in his arms. “Of course you know,” he teased, his voice muffled. “Is there anything you can’t do? Taking down thieves like it’s nothing. And looking beautiful while doing it.”

You grinned, pulling away a little to look at his face. “Well, back to what I was saying, I was kind of thinking we could go walk around a mall?”

The mention of going to a mall seemed harmless enough, but Jungwon couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the suggestion. “A mall? Trying to get another expensive brand?” he said teasingly, referring to the Prada bag that you had just gone to great lengths to protect.

“Duh,” you replied, flipping your hair.

He chuckled, something about the idea of you walking around a mall filled with luxury stores made him feel a bit uneasy. He knew that the mall would be filled with crowds of people, all with their agendas and attitudes. And he couldn’t help but wonder how you would navigate that environment with your usual elegance and grace.

Nevertheless, he didn’t want to dampen your excitement, so he nodded. “Alright, let’s go. But no more chasing thieves, okay?” He added with a playful grin.

You laughed, linking your arm with his. “Deal. Let’s just enjoy our time together.”

🎩

Days later, you were in a mall yet again after classes, but only with yourself. Holding a shopping bag, you walked around, browsing the stores.

Jungwon stood by the fountain in the middle of the mall, taking a moment to rest after a long day of classes. He took a sip from his drink as he watched mall-goers pass by—couples, families, and friends, all engrossed in their worlds.

He couldn’t help but glance around, looking for a familiar face amongst the sea of people. Then, suddenly, he spotted you. Wanting to talk to you immediately, he followed you around, but you were too fast.

As you were walking, you noticed a guy following you, not knowing it was Jungwon. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you turned around and punched.

The unexpectedness of it all caught him off guard, and before he could react, your knuckles made contact with his cheek.

“Ah!” he held his cheek. “It’s me!! It’s me!!”

You widened your eyes as you covered your mouth. "Oh my! I’m so sorry, Jungwon. I’m sorry!"

Jungwon let out a small pained noise as he held his cheek, the stinging feeling slowly fading to a dull throb. "It's...okay..." he managed to say through gritted teeth. "I should've known better than to sneak up on you like that."

You kept apologizing over and over. "I didn’t mean to! I thought you were a stranger. Are you alright? I feel terrible."

“It’s alright, it’s alright, I’m fine,” he reassured you, gently rubbing his cheek. He was secretly impressed by your reflexes, but he was also slightly amused by the irony of the situation. “You sure pack a punch, huh?” he joked, a smile playing on his lips.

“I just... I thought...” you muttered, still shaken from the incident.

Jungwon nodded, understanding your reaction. “It’s okay, really. I get it. You reacted on instinct. Can’t fault you for that.”

He looked at you, curiosity piqued. “Can’t help but ask: where’d you learn to punch like that?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” you shrugged. “It just happened.”

Jungwon chuckled, shaking his head in mild disbelief. He couldn’t help but find it slightly absurd that you had been able to throw a punch like that without any formal training. “So you’re telling me you just naturally have those badass instincts?” he asked, still holding his cheek but seeming less in pain now. “Well, I’ll consider it a blessing to be punched by you.”

“Pfft, you are sick,” you said, a small smile breaking through your concern.

Jungwon chuckled again. He knew he might sound ridiculous, but there was something oddly gratifying about being the recipient of your powerful punch. It kind of made him feel like he was in a cheesy action movie or something.

He glanced at you, a smirk on his face. “Maybe a little bit. But can you blame me? It’s not every day that a pretty girl punches me in the face.”

You shook your head, still feeling bad. “Well, is there anything I could do for you? As payback for the punch?”

Jungwon thought for a moment, a grin spreading across his face. He knew you didn’t owe him anything, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease you a bit more. “Hmm, payback?”

He pretended to think for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, there is something you could do...”

🎩

You two were outside his house. It wasn’t like the house—well, mansion—you were used to living in. But rather a homely-looking one. Not too big, but not too small.

Jungwon unlocked the front door to his house, ushering you inside. The contrast between your luxurious upbringing and his modest surroundings was quite stark, but he seemed unfazed by it.

The inside of the house was cozy and inviting, with a lived-in feel. The furniture was old but clean, and it was evident that care had been taken to make it homey.

He looked at you as you took in the environment.

You looked around in shock. “Wow... this is... beautiful.”

Jungwon smiled at your reaction. He wasn’t used to hearing someone describe his home as beautiful. Compared to the extravagant homes you were accustomed to, his modest dwelling might seem like a hovel.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in his home.

“You think so? I mean, it’s nothing fancy like where you live, but it’s home, y’know?”

“It is,” you nodded in agreement, genuinely appreciating the warmth and coziness of his house. “It feels so... welcoming. I can see why you love it here.”

A warm smile tugged at Jungwon’s lips as he saw your sincere expression

He led you further inside, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch in the living room. “You can make yourself comfortable. Do you want anything to drink? I got water, soda, juice...”

“I’m fine,” you smiled, still taking in the surroundings. “Thank you, though. It’s nice of you to invite me over.”

Jungwon nodded and then disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water for himself.

He settled down beside you on the couch. He looked at you, a silent moment of contemplation passing before he spoke again. "Thanks for coming.”

“I am still shocked that you invited me to your house all of a sudden. Are you planning something?” you teased him, raising an eyebrow playfully. “I mean, you didn’t even give me a heads-up.”

He leaned back against the couch cushions, feigning innocence, although a playful glimmer in his eyes betrayed his true thoughts. “Planning something with you, huh?”

He gave a small shrug as if the thought had never crossed his mind. “Can’t a guy invite a girl over without any ulterior motives?”

“Dad says most guys would,” you said, crossing your arms with a smirk. “He’s always warning me about that.”

Jungwon grinned, unable to deny that statement. He knew how guys thought, being one himself. “Well, I’m not like most guys,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “And you’re not like most girls either, if I may say so.”

You pointed at him and then at yourself. “You and me both, I guess. We’re definitely a unique pair.”

Jungwon’s smile softened. “Yeah…” He paused. Then, a smirk returned to his face. “Though, you’re definitely the first girl I’ve invited over that wasn’t my mom or my grandmother. And the first girl I’ve invited immediately after punching me in the cheek.”

You winced. “Oh yeah... I still feel terrible about that.”

“Hey, hey.”

He reached out gently and placed a hand on your shoulder, sensing your guilt. He wasn’t upset about the punch. In fact, he found it kind of hilarious now. He let out a soft laugh, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “It’s okay, seriously. No need to feel bad. Besides, I kinda deserved it, sneaking up on you like that.”

“If anything, I should be thanking you for allowing me to have a badass bruise on my face.”

“But your cheek... how am I supposed to poke your dimple if it hurts?” you pouted a little, genuinely concerned. You really liked his dimples. “It’s one of your best features, you know.”

“My dimple, hm? That’s what you’re worried about?” He laughed, gently rubbing his sore cheek with his hand. “It’s just a bruise. It’ll heal, eventually, and my dimple will be all yours for poking again soon enough.”

“Good,” you said with a satisfied nod. “Because I don’t think I could live without poking it.”

Both of you were engaged in conversation, bantering back and forth, never realizing how late it was. The rain started to fall outside, initially a soft pitter-patter on the windows, gradually escalating into a pounding. The change in weather was subtle at first, but as the minutes passed, the downpour outside became heavier and more intense.

Jungwon glanced out the window, realizing how late and dark it had gotten. “Looks like the weather took a turn for the worse,” he commented, his gaze shifting from the window back to you. “Heavy rains like these usually last a while. I hope you weren’t planning on going home anytime soon.”

“But I’m supposed to go home. My parents would be worried,” you said, looking a bit anxious. “They always worry when I’m out late.”

Jungwon nodded, understanding your situation. The last thing you needed was to worry your mother, especially your father, by being out late. “It’s not safe to be out there in this kind of weather. You’ll get soaked and catch a cold, or worse.”

“What do you suggest?” you asked, looking at him expectantly. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

Jungwon pondered for a moment, thinking through possible options. He didn’t want you to risk going home in the middle of bad weather, but he also didn’t want to overstep his boundaries and make you uncomfortable. He looked at you, his expression becoming more serious.

“You can stay here for the night. The rain might not let up for a few hours, and it would be safer than trying to brave it out there.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, hesitating. “I don’t want to impose or anything and I already did a number on you...”

“Trust me, your punch didn’t do that much damage. Besides, it’s just a bruise. I’ve had worse,” he said with a light wave of his hand, partially lying.

It did hurt like a bitch, but he really took pride in it. “And don’t worry about me. I’m the one who offered, remember?”

“Well, I should call my dad to let him know that I’m here. I’m sure he’s a worried mess now,” you said, taking your phone from your bag.

Jungwon nodded in agreement, suddenly realizing he had been so caught up in the moment that he completely forgot about the need to inform your parents. He mentally berated himself for not thinking about this sooner. “Right, yeah. You should probably give him a call, and let him know you’re safe and sound here. I’m sure he’s worried.” He reached out and gave your arm a light pat, trying to reassure you.

You stood up and dialed your dad’s number. “Hi, daddy—”

“Sweet pie! Are you still at the mall? It’s raining heavily and windy,” your dad interrupted, his voice filled with concern.

You tried to calm him down. “I’m fine, daddy. I’m at a friend’s house. Don’t worry.”

“A friend? Is it a boy or a girl?” your dad asked, his tone growing more serious.

“A boy—” you began, then immediately cut off, realizing how that sounded.

“A boy? A boy, sweet pie? No,” your dad said, clearly anxious.

“Don’t worry, daddy. I’ll be fine, please. If anything happens, I’ll call,” you reassured him, trying to keep your voice calm.

“You still have the pepper spray? You better have that next to you while you sleep, and no funny business!” your dad said, his tone stern.

“Of course, daddy. I love you. Tell mommy I love her too. Good night, you two,” you said, hoping to end the call on a positive note.

“Of course, sweet pie. I love you too. Be safe, and good night,” your dad replied, his voice softening a bit.

Jungwon watched as you ended the call, your phone falling silent. He waited quietly for a moment, letting the silence linger. Once you turned back towards him, he spoke up. “Did he freak out?”

You nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

Jungwon chuckled, not surprised at all. He could only imagine the kind of panic a single phone call from you could induce in your protective father. “Well, at least you managed to calm him down somewhat, right?”

You shrugged, a small smile on your face. “Somewhat.”

“Well, there’s a slight problem: my clothes,” you said, glancing down at your designer outfit.

Jungwon glanced at your designer clothes, realizing that they were probably worth more than the total cost of his entire wardrobe. He knew how delicate and expensive designer labels could be, and he had no idea if they were washing machine-friendly.

“Hmm, well, if you’re concerned about your clothes, I can find you some of my spare clothes to wear for the night. They’re not as fancy, I’m sure, but they’re comfortable and clean.”

You gave him a relieved smile. “That would be great, thank you so much.”

Jungwon smiled and nodded, then stood up from the couch. “No problem. Just make yourself comfortable while I go get those clothes for you.”

He walked down the hallway to his room, leaving you in the living room. After a few minutes, he returned with a pair of gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt. “Here you go,” he said, handing you the clothes.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the clothes from him. You glanced around, then back at Jungwon. “Can I also borrow your face wash? I assume you have some because your skin is flawless.”

Jungwon chuckled at your compliment and nodded. “Yeah, of course you can. I have a whole skincare routine. Can’t have my skin looking bad, can I?” He gestured toward the bathroom again. “Just grab whatever you need from the shelf. And you’re welcome to use my toothbrush too if you want.”

You laughed, feeling more at ease. “The new one, I hope.”

“Yeah, the new one,” he assured with a smile. “Go ahead and get changed, then you can freshen up. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything else.”

You headed to the bathroom, changed into Jungwon’s clothes, and followed his instructions to use the skincare products on the shelf. Feeling refreshed, you re-entered the living room a while later, wearing his oversized clothes.

Jungwon was lounging on the couch when you walked in, and he looked up as you entered. His reaction was immediate, his eyes widening and his cheeks reddening.

For a moment, he seemed lost for words. His baggy clothes hung loosely on you, making you look smaller and more delicate. Seeing you without makeup for the first time, he couldn’t help but be struck by your natural beauty. “Woah…”

You tilted your head, feeling self-conscious. “What? Do I look weird?”

Jungwon quickly shook his head, snapping out of his daze. “No, not at all. You look good. Really good.”

His words made you blush slightly, and you walked over to sit beside him on the couch. “Thanks. It feels weird not having any makeup on, but your skincare stuff is really nice.”

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on you. “I just hadn’t seen you without makeup before, that’s all. You look different, but not in a bad way. Beautiful, rather.”

Your cheeks warmed even more at his compliment. “Oh, thank you…’’

Jungwon continued to look at you for a moment, taking in the sight of your natural beauty. Without the confident, poised facade you often wore, you looked more innocent, more approachable, and it made his heart skip a beat.

He cleared his throat again, trying to shift the focus. “So, uh, how do those clothes fit? Are they comfortable?”

You smiled, hugging yourself slightly. “They’re comfortable. I’ll just return them to you washed when we meet up again.”

Jungwon nodded, relieved that the clothes were at least comfortable for you. “Yeah, sure.” He then added with a playful tone, “Though, I won’t lie, I kinda like seeing you in my clothes. You look cute in them.”

“You know what? I changed my mind. They look better on you. They’re yours.” he added.

“Wait, really?” you tilted your head in surprise.

He mimicked your gesture, tilting his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. You can keep them. They suit you better than they ever suited me anyway.”

“Wow, thank you,” you said, hugging yourself from the comfiness of the clothes. “This is now my favorite outfit.”

The sight of you hugging yourself in his oversized sweatshirt was almost too cute for him to handle. “No problem. They look way better on you anyway.” He paused, watching you as you continued to appreciate the clothes. A small smirk came as a teasing thought crossed his mind. “Though, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in my clothes more often.”

“I don’t mind either,” you replied with a smile.

Jungwon had half-expected you to brush off his comment, so your agreement was a pleasant surprise. His eyes flicked up and down your figure, taking in the sight of you in his clothes. He definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing them more often. “Well, great. Just so you know, that offer stands. Anytime you want to borrow more clothes from me, you’re welcome to.”

“Well, where should I sleep? The couch will be fine,” you said, looking around uncertainly.

Jungwon’s face darkened somewhat at the thought of you sleeping on the couch. It didn’t sit right with him at all. There was no way he’d allow that.

He shook his head firmly. “No way. You’re not sleeping on the couch. You can take my bed.”

You furrowed your brow, concerned. “But what about you?”

Jungwon smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. I can take the couch. It’s comfortable enough for one night.”

You shook your head in disagreement. “No, I’ll be taking the couch.”

Jungwon immediately protested, adamant not to let you sleep on the couch. “No, you’re not. You’re my guest, and I insist you take the bed.”

You folded your arms, equally determined. “No, you are not.”

Jungwon’s resolve remained. He refused to back down on this. “Yes, I am. It’s non-negotiable. You will be sleeping on the bed, and I will take the couch. End of story.”

You defiantly sat down on the couch, refusing to budge. “I’m staying here.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed as he stood his ground a few feet away. “No, you’re not. You’re going to that bedroom, and you’re going to sleep in the bed.”

Before you could react, he effortlessly lifted you onto his shoulder.

“Ah! Let me down! I’ll be sleeping on the couch!” you panicked, squirming in his grip.

Ignoring your protests, Jungwon carried you towards the bedroom, determined to settle this once and for all. “Nope, sorry. I warned you already. You’re sleeping in the bed, and that’s final.”

He kicked the bedroom door open and unceremoniously dumped you onto the bed. “There. See? Wasn’t that difficult, was it?”

But before he could retreat, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards you.

“Woah, hey! What are you—” Jungwon began, surprised by your sudden move. Despite his resistance, you were surprisingly strong, and he found himself being pulled onto the bed beside you with a slight bounce.

“Now we both sleep in your bed,” you declared with a mischievous smile.

Jungwon lay there next to you, completely taken aback by your unexpected persistence. There was something about the way you were looking at him, that made him give up on arguing... Perhaps resisting would only result in more trouble, like another punch…

“…Fine. We’ll both sleep here,” he relented, his tone softening.

“Good night,” you said with a smile.

He shifted to get comfortable, turning to face you. “Good night,” he replied. “And don’t hog the blanket.”

Suddenly, you clung to him, catching him off guard.

Jungwon blinked in surprise but decided to go along with it. Slowly, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around you, pulling you closer against his chest. The sensation of you holding onto him felt oddly comforting yet exhilarating.

“You’re going to hold onto me all night, hm…?” Jungwon mused, a touch of warmth in his voice.

“Exactly. Now sleep,” you said firmly, settling in against him.

He sighed softly, closing his eyes and letting himself relax. “Alright, alright. I’m sleeping. And you better not complain about me hogging the blanket in the morning either.”

🎩

‘’AHHH! WHY IS IT SIZZLING LIKE THAT? Jungwon, help!’’ you yelled trying to hold the handle of the pan.

Jungwon was sitting at the kitchen counter, his morning disheveled hair tousled from sleep and eyes still half-closed with drowsiness. He was sipping on a glass of orange juice.

He looked up as he heard your panicked cry, his eyes widening at the sight of you in front of the stove, frantically trying to control the sizzling food in the pan. He couldn’t help but snicker. “Calm down, it’s fine. Just turn down the heat.”

‘’I don’t wanna burn the food!’’ “I don’t want to burn the food!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with anxiety as you wrestled with the stove dial.

Jungwon laughed and set his glass down, getting up from his seat. He approached you and placed a calming hand on your back. “You won’t burn the food, trust me. It just needs a little less heat, that’s all.” He reached past you and turned down the heat on the stove, then looked at the pan to assess the food. It was starting to burn, but it was fixable.

He grabbed a spatula and began to carefully stir the food in the pan, preventing it from sticking and burning. “See? Just keep stirring it slowly and let the heat do its job. It’s not rocket science.” He shot you a smirk, enjoying your panicked state a bit too much.

“I’m just used to having my chef at home,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment, glancing up at him.

Jungwon nodded at your confession, not surprised in the slightest. He had already guessed that you weren’t used to doing any sort of housework, considering your family’s wealth and status. “Of course you are. How could I forget that you have a personal chef to cook all your meals for you?” He continued stirring the food, his smirk remaining.

‘’Well, I’m willing to learn,” you said tentatively, determination in your voice.

Raising an eyebrow in mild surprise, Jungwon turned to look at you, impressed by your sudden eagerness. “Really? You’re interested in learning?”

He continued to stir, adding, “I’m not the best cook myself, but I’ve picked up a few things from Jay hyung. I could teach you sometime. But for now, let’s wrap this up so we can finally eat breakfast.”

‘’Alright,” you agreed as you watched Jungwon expertly season and stir the food.

Jungwon continued to stir the food in the pan, carefully attending to the sizzling onions and mushrooms. He sprinkled some spices and seasonings over it to enhance the flavor and added a few other ingredients before turning off the heat.

He put the food onto a plate and handed it to you, a proud expression on his face. “Here you go. Your first attempt at cooking, courtesy of me.”

Taking a bite, you savored the flavors, surprised by how good it turned out. “Wow, this is good!”

Jungwon watches as you take a bite of the food, a hint of pride washing over him. “See, it’s not so difficult, right? You just needed a little guidance.” He grins and steals a forkful of food off your plate, popping it into his mouth and savoring the taste.

Though out of nowhere…

‘’Want to be my boyfriend? I’d be really glad if you were,” you asked casually, but your heart raced with nervous anticipation.

Caught off guard by your sudden question, Jungwon choked on his food, his eyes widening in surprise. “W-What?”

He stammered, utterly taken aback by your directness. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your tone casual despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Jungwon sat in stunned silence for a moment, hardly believing what he was hearing. You, the sought-after, affluent girl, were asking him to be your boyfriend.

Shaking his head slightly, still processing the shock of your confession, he managed, “You… want me to be your boyfriend? But why? I’m just a regular guy. You could have anyone.”

“You can answer me after we eat,” you suggested, trying to hide the nervous tremor in your voice.

Nodding in agreement, Jungwon set aside his questions for the moment, focusing on the food. He stole glances at you, curious about what was going on that pretty head of yours.

🎩

After eating, you both found yourselves on the couch, staring at each other in a brief silence. “Yo, your answer. You can just reject me and we can still be friends,” you said, though you weren’t entirely honest – rejection would definitely sting.

He struggled to find the right words. “Why would you want to be with me, out of everyone?”

“I just like you. I like everything about you. It’s kind of obvious. Well, to me at least,” you admitted, your voice soft but sincere.

He swallowed hard, trying to process your words. It was hard to believe that someone like you saw him in such a positive light. Running a hand through his hair nervously, he murmured, “Are you… sure you haven’t lost your mind?”

“Are you calling me crazy?” you retorted, a hint of playful challenge in your tone.

Jungwon quickly shook his head, realizing his mistake. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured you, guilt flickering in his eyes.

“It’s just… you’re kind of, well, out of my league. You’re rich, beautiful, and probably the most popular girl in school.”

“And I still like you,” you said firmly, hoping he could see the honesty in your eyes.

He studied your face for a moment, then sighed, acceptance softening his voice. “I guess it doesn’t make sense, does it? For you to choose me.”

Turning towards you, he added, “Alright… I’ll be your boyfriend.”

You squealed.

Jungwon had never seen you so animated, and it was strangely endearing. He reached over, patting your head affectionately, a small smile playing on his lips. “Calm down, princess. No need to squeal like that. You’re going to bust my eardrums.”

“We’re dating now! I can’t wait for our tea dates!” you exclaimed, bouncing slightly on the couch.

Jungwon had a sense of your high-maintenance nature, being the pampered rich girl of the school, but he found himself looking forward to experiencing it all. “Tea dates? Of course,” he chuckled softly, shaking his head at your expensive tastes.

Tilting your head, you added, “Well, we can go wherever you want!”

Jungwon had assumed you’d prefer fancy, expensive outings, given your wealth. Your willingness to go anywhere with him was a pleasant surprise.

After a moment’s thought, he spoke with a smirk, “Are you sure you’re okay with going somewhere cheap? No luxury restaurants or expensive boutiques?”

“Absolutely! I’m so excited,” you assured him eagerly.

Jungwon laughed at your enthusiasm, still surprised that you’d opt for something so different from your usual lifestyle, just for him. Rising from the couch, he extended his hand to you, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Let’s go then, princess. I know just the place.”

“Wait, now?” you asked, looking up at him.

He nodded, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, why not? Unless you’ve got something more important to do than spend time with your boyfriend.”

With a wink, he held his hand out, waiting for you to join him.

“But we’re in our pajamas, and we just ate. Plus, it’s still early,” you protested, feeling both excitement and apprehension.

“So what? It’s never too early, and it doesn’t matter what we’re wearing. Besides, you look cute in your pajamas.” Jungwon gently poked your nose. “Now come on, let’s go.”

“But we just ate, Jungwon,” you persisted, reluctant to leave the comfort of the couch.

“We can grab a light snack where we’re going. Don’t worry so much.” He took your hand, pulling you up from the couch. “Come on. Stop being a cute baby and come with me.”

“Alright, fine. Only because you said yes,” you relented, giving in to his playful persistence.

Jungwon squeezed your hand, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Good.” Letting go of your hand, he gave you a playful swat on the butt, gently nudging you forward.

“Ouch! My butt!” you exclaimed, rubbing your bum.

“Quit being dramatic. It was just a swat. Your butt is still intact,” Jungwon teased, smirking as he watched you move ahead, shaking his head affectionately.

🎩

As the days went by, the news that you were dating Jungwon spread like wildfire throughout the school. No one could believe it.

Jungwon, on the other hand, was enjoying his new status as your boyfriend. It felt weird at first, having everyone’s eyes on him, but he quickly got used to it. Every time someone would stare at him in disbelief, he would smirk and wrap an arm around your waist.

When a guy would comment something bad about him, you’ll just punch him and move forward through the day like nothing happened. Just being the princess you are. (Though you always believed that violence is never the answer and that it’s better to answer everything with grace but when it comes to Jungwon, you’ll fight everyone who looks down on him.)

One afternoon, Jungwon lounged on his bed, casually scrolling through his phone. A knock interrupted his idle moment, and he called out, “Come in.”

“Im home, bitch,” you announced, breezing into his room and closing the door behind you.

Jungwon chuckled sarcastically at your greeting. “Is that any way to greet your boyfriend?”

“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, suddenly more formal. “Hi, baby! I’m home.”

His eyes softened as you greeted him properly. Setting his phone aside, he said, “Hi there, princess. Come here, I need cuddles.”

You complied, walking over to him. Jungwon eagerly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. “Mmm, I missed you. How was your day?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Just the usual.”

Humming softly, Jungwon nuzzled against your neck, planting a few gentle kisses. “Just the usual, huh? No gossip or drama?”

“Lots of gossip, actually, but I’ll tell you all about it later,” you replied, running your fingers through his hair.

Jungwon perked up at the mention of gossip, always intrigued by school rumors, especially those involving you. He adjusted his position so he could see your face, keeping his arms securely around you. “Gossip, you say? Must be something good if you’re saving it.”

“Well, first, let me just say how handsome you look right now. If you want me to kneel for you, I will,” you teased, meeting his gaze playfully.

Jungwon smirked suggestively, raising an eyebrow. “Oh really? You’d get on your knees for me just like that?”

“Babe, not like that!” you protested, cheeks flushing slightly.

He laughed heartily. “I know, I’m just teasing you.” Leaning in, he planted a sweet kiss on your cheek, his hold on you gentle yet reassuring.

“I love my pretty princess,” Jungwon murmured affectionately.

“Love you too, won…” you murmured back, enjoying the closeness.

Then, a more serious note entered your voice. “Hey, wonie?”

“Yeah, baby?” Jungwon replied, sensing a shift in the conversation.

‘’My dad wants to meet you…’’

“Oh shit’’

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Hey I have a request!!

Capitol!Reader is from a rich and wealthy family which makes her an eligible wife for Snow who is in his second year as president which makes him 24. Reader is just about to turn 18 and she’s still in the academy. She’s being forced into a marriage the moment she is of age (18) but she very much dislikes Coriolanus. She is forced to hang out with him but she is sometimes a brat to him because she loathes him, she does not love him. The day she turns 18, Snow waits outside of the academy for her with white roses but she gets furious that he’s at her school infront of everyone and everyone now knows that they sale courting each other. She causes a scene (up to you what happens) and snow becomes incredibly mad at her. Honestly would love to see dark!coriolanus.

Thank you! Btw I love your fics sm 😭 I’ve been here since you started writing house of the dragon fics!

Fallen Roses || Young President! Coriolanus Snow x Capitol!Reader

A/n: Thank you so much for this request! And thank you for sticking with me through my changes 😂

Warnings: possessive snow?

Wc:

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“He’s in his second year as President, and he needs a wife. You are perfect for it, y/n.” Your mothers whispers harshly to you as you sat there, arms crossed, looking to the side. You had been called out of High Biology and into Dr. Gaul's office.

"I don't want to be his wife! I don't even know him!" You argue back to your mother as her face stiffens and her eyes darken. You gulp. "Listen here, daughter. When you turn 18 in a couple of days, you will marry President Snow whether you like it or not. You will have the honor of becoming the First Lady of Panem. Be grateful that you have this opportunity. Do not ruin this for us!" Your mother fires back.

Dr. Gaul sits across the desk from the two of you, watching as mother and daughter fight. "There is something you must understand Miss Y/L/N, Coriolanus Snow picked you himself to be his wife. That is the most highest honour he could ever give. You will live in the Presidential Mansion with him, not lift a single finger, and bask in your riches-" You loudly scoff.

"Hell sounds better than that," You spat in annoyance as you could see your mother shooting daggers your way from your peripheral vision. That was not the life that you wanted to have for yourself in the future. Your life right now was worse. You hated being the centre of attention; although that could never be avoided due to your high status, your parents, and your enormous wealth.

You were grateful without a doubt, but you'd rather give away your riches to people who actually needed it. You hated being forced into events, wearing outfits that were far too uncomfortable, making conversation about the weather and whatnot. It was not your cup of tea even though you were brought up with this kind of lifestyle your entire life. The thought of doing that all over again but as the second most important person in all of Panem? That would be absolute torture.

Dr. Gaul sighs, looking at your mother before closing her mouth again. You liked to argue and shut people up, and you were pretty darn good at it. "President Snow will be here shortly to meet you. I hope you show him the respect that he well deserves." She gives you a knowing look as you roll your eyes.

"Great," You mutter under your breath. The three of your all sat in his office in silence for a few minutes before the door opened behind you. Your mother and Dr. Gaul stand up to greet the President as you stayed sitting, staring at the wall behind Dr. Gaul.

"President Snow," Your mother greets him in her sickly fake voice that you hear every time you are at social events. "Coraline, lovely to see you again," You hear him say as you feel him move closer to you and your mother as he kisses her cheek.

"Dr. Gaul, always lovely to see you," He shakes her hand, "As to you Mr. Snow," She chuckles. Then it was silent. You were still sat in your seat. You could tell Snow was staring at you. "Y/n, it's lovely to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you." You lightly chuckle, turning your head to look up at him.

"Wish I could say the same," You remark, "Now can I leave? I really don't want to be missing out on the lesson," Your eyes move to your mother and Dr. Gaul. "Your schedule has been cleared for the whole day Miss Y/l/n, you will instead, accompany President Snow to his home," Dr. Gaul exaplains.

"What?" You sit up in your seat, hands gripping the arms tightly as they turn white. "You want me to be alone with him?" "You're going to have to get used to it, sweetheart." Snow chuckles behind you as you grip the arms even tighter, your knuckles turning white. "Y/n." Your mother sternly says as you let out a sigh from your nose.

"This is ridiculous, you can't force me into this!" You yell at your mother, "She can't. But I most certainly can. Now shall we?" Snow offers his arm as you stare at him in disbelief. You abruptly stand up making the chair screech against the floor and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Your heals click on the marble floor as you quickly leave the room. "I knew I would like her," Snow comments making your mother turn a slight colour of red from embarrassment. Students were still in their classrooms. The last thing you wanted was even more attention from everyone when they see you and the President together.

You make a sharp turn from the usual route to outside. "Where are you going?" Snow calls out as you turn to him, "Like hell I'm letting other people see me with you, alone." You cross your arms and narrow your eyes at him. He stands there, hands tucked into his jacket as he looks down, chuckling.

"Like I said, sweetheart, you're going to have to get used to it. You will be Panem's First Lady after all." He tilts his head at you. You kiss your teeth, letting your arms fall to your sides. "Yeah well I want to savour the final last moments of my freedom, so let me, yeah?" And with that you turn around disappearing from sight.

~

For the next couple of days, you had been forced into hanging out with Coriolanus. Whether it be having a meal with him in the presidential mansion, or him accompanying you as you are forced to go shopping for even more clothes. You had slightly warmed up to him, he could tell. But your disapproval of the whole situation was still there. Your attitude towards him was a clear give away.

Coriolanus quite enjoys your witty remarks. It entices him. Part of the reason as to why he picked you was that you hated your lifestyle and knew you had quite the tongue. He figured you were entertaining to tease. And of course, he found you the prettiest out of all the girls at the academy.

The dreadful day had finally come. You turned 18. Which meant that you could kiss your last ounces of freedom and happiness goodbye the minute Snow slips a ring on your finger. You had school that day. You figured you would be pulled out from your first class to meet with Snow but that was not the case.

Throughout the day you grew anxious by the second. You had yet to be pulled out. The bell rang indicating the school day was over and nothing happened. Did Snow pull out? Did he change his mind? You hoped it was the latter.

You pack up your things and wave goodbye to your friends as they all start to pour out of the main doors of the Academy. From afar you could see a small crowd forming. You make your way towards the crowd and was horrified to see Snow leaned up against a car, a bouquet of white roses in one hand.

"Mrs. Snow," He smirks the second he sets eyes on you as the crowd around you gasp in shock. You felt pure rage and hatred towards the man standing in front of you. You storm closer to him, yanking the flowers from his hands and throwing it on the floor. "Do not call me that," You spat, venom laced in your tone as Snow's eyes darken. He grips your upper arm as the peacekeepers open the car door.

Snow roughly pushes you inside the car as he slams the door. "You have been acting like an ungrateful little brat. Show some fucking respect to your husband." He grips your chin as your eyes begin to water. "You are not my husband." You say as he grips your chin even tighter making you wince. "I will be, whether you like it or not, darling." He smirks at you, all you wanted to do was wipe that stupid smirk off his lips.

You push him off of you as you sit furthest away from him. A tear rolls down your cheek. This was going to be your life from now on. "First thing you should now about being Panem's First Lady." Snow turns his head towards you, his hands roll up his sleeves, "Do not. Refuse. My flowers. Clear?" You don't say anything.

"I said, do I make myself clear!" He yells as you flinch. You tore your eyes away from the window. "Crystal clear." You choke out as he grins in satisfaction. "Good."