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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

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Beggin' For It | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Orgasm Denial

Chapter Summary | Your new boyfriend Joel, in the process of helping you pack up your apartment, finds your stash of porn, full of all the things you've been scared of asking for. He surprises you by offering to help you tick them off, starting by denying you the thing you always love the most.

Chapter Warnings | This is basically porn without plot. Explicit smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected PiV sex, talk of contraceptives, orgasm denial, creampie, dirty talk, pet names (baby), hair pulling, established relationship, No Outbreak AU, No Use of Y/N.

Word Count | 3.7k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | Well here we go, the Joel Miller Kink extravaganza. I had SO much fun writing this and putting this together so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I love writing it! If you do enjoy this, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

Your face is burning hot, and your stomach is in knots of anxiety as you stand in the doorway to your room, two glasses of water in hand, watching Joel, who is sat on your bed with a spread of magazine’s spread out across the duvet. Those fucking magazines, stored carefully in the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Some are straight up pornographic, plucked from the top shelf of the store, paid for and shoved into the depths of your bag before anyone apart from you and the cashier knew what it was. Others are those silly gossip magazines, Cosmopolitan mainly, pages folded in all of them of the pictures you like the most, the ones that help you get off the quickest, the things you want to try the most. And they’re all spread out for him to see.

“W-where did you f-find those?” You choke out, swallowing thickly, hands gripping the two glasses so hard you’re surprised they don’t shatter.

Joel shrugs, “You asked me to start packing the stuff from the drawers into boxes,” He says, because you did, your apartment in disarray as you’re packing up to move into his home, “I opened the drawer and found them.”

Joel was never planned. You’d been more than happy on your own. When you met him, on a random Sunday morning, you’d been out of your last relationship for almost a year. You’d been staring at different types of nails at the hardware store, cursing yourself that you hadn’t thought to research what the best nails for hanging pictures up would be, when his Southern drawl had pricked your ears.

“Need any help, miss?”

You’d turned, taken a step back because he was taller than you, broad, and definitely older too. Grey scruff peppered along his jaw, some in his hair too, and big brown eyes that screamed kindness at you. He was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen.

“Huh?” Was all you could manage to let out, cursing yourself for seeming like the typical dumb woman at the hardware store.

“Been milling around gettin’ some stuff and you’ve been starin’ at that wall’a nails for a while,” He chuckles, stepping forward so he’s next to you, “What d’ya need ‘em for?”

“Oh,” You breathe, he smells good too, woodsy and masculine, “I’m wanting to hang some pictures on my walls.”

He hums in understanding, reaching over to grab a pack of nails that are miles longer than the ones you would have chosen. He holds them out to you, which you take, fingertips brushing against his as you do, “Thanks,” You smile at him, “I would never have chosen these ones.”

“You got everythin’ you need to hang them?” He asks, “Tools and stuff?”

You shrug this time, “I’ve got a hammer, is that going to do it?”

The look in his eyes is akin to what you imagine someone would look like if you’d just kicked a dog in front of them, he shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and then hands you card that he pulls out. You take it, the words ‘Miller Contracting’ and a phone number underneath it.

“Usually, I’m more of a building from scratch guy, but you can’t hammer these nails into a wall, so give me a call and I can come and hang your pictures for you.”

So, you do. Late that evening, you call him, tell him you’ve got the weekend free, and you’d like to get your pictures hung. He comes over, you watch him closely as he hangs them perfectly on your wall. You make him dinner as a thank-you, considering he won’t let you pay him, and then after two beers, you let him fuck you on your couch. It’s not usually your style, but nine months later, it seems to have worked, considering he’s moving you into his house.

Like most things that had to do with your life and Joel, moving in this early had never been planned either. Sarah, his daughter, who you’d met multiple times, had her own life, her own home, and the lease to your apartment in the city was ending early. Something to do with the landlord wanting to completely redecorate. Joel had offered his place to you, which made sense, considering you spent most of your time at his anyway. So, you’d emailed your landlord, told him you’d be out by the end of the month, and were now packing up everything you owned to move into Joel’s place. Start a new life.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” He coos, “Some interesting stuff here.” He muses, reaching over to pick up a copy of one of the more explicit magazines, opening it on a page that’s got the corner folded over, the picture is a woman, bent over on her knees with her hands spreading the cheeks of her ass, an anonymous man pounding his cock into her, a look of ecstasy on her face.

You can’t bare it anymore, so you put the glasses down on chest of drawers and made a beeline to snatch it out of his hand, “Now, hold your horses, baby,” He teases, managing to grab your waist to catch you off balance, pulling you onto his lap where you straddle him, the other hand holding the magazine out of your reach, “What do the folded pages mean?”

You groan, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder, grumbling incoherently into him in the hopes he drops the subject, but this is Joel, and you should have known better. He pushes his shoulder forward, forcing your head up, “I didn’t quite hear you, baby?”

Dick, is what you think, “They’re things I like,” You mumble, “Think that get me off.”

He turns his head towards the bed with a smirk, “Lots of folded pages, baby,” He teases, Joel lets the magazine in his hand drop to the bed, gripping your waist in both hands, “Don’t need to be shy baby, nothin’ wrong with any of it.”

It’s not really that you’re embarrassed by what’s in the magazines, it’s more the fact that even though you and Joel have an extremely healthy sex life, not one you would necessarily call vanilla, but certainly not kinky, there were things you were scared of asking for. There was a mental list of things you’d read about in the advice columns of Cosmo, pictures you’d seen in the other magazines, that you were dying to try, but how do you bring up to your boyfriend of not even a year, that you want him to bend you over and stuff his cock into your ass?

Joel brings a hand up to your face, cups your cheek and brushes the skin there with his thumb, “Why don’t you show me something you want to try?” He coaxes gently, his brown eyes meeting your own.

Your eyes go wide. You had always been worried of asking for these things, worried it would scare him off, or that he just didn’t want to branch out into anything too kinky, but here he is, offering to help make your fantasies come true, “Go on.” He taps at your sides.

You lean over, grab one of the issues of Cosmo and flick through it to the page with the folded corner right at the back. You pass it to Joel, who takes it, letting his eyes flick to the column of sex advice. He clears his throat and starts reading with you still perched on his lap.

“Dear Angela,” he reads in his Southern drawl, “I’ve been with my fiancé for over five years now. We’re very happy and our wedding is in a year’s time, but I’m struggling to connect with him sexually now. I think the problem is that he’s too nice. Outside of the bedroom, this is wonderful, but do you have any advice on how we might be able to spice things up with our sex life?” He then clears his throat again before launching into ‘Angela’s’ response, “Dear reader, this is something I deal with often. You’re happy with everything but the sex, but don’t lose hope because this is fixable. If you want him to get a little mean with you, nothing says that like denying you the big one, the final ‘O’ if you will. Talk to him, tell him it’s something you want, and have fun!”

You’re looking at his face as he ponders what that means. He’s putting the magazine down on the bed, bringing his hands back to your hips, looking into your eyes, “Am I too nice to you, baby?” He coos, “Need me to be a little mean t’ya?”

His voice flashes straight down to your cunt. You wriggle in his lap, the seam of your jeans rubbing along the bulge that is prominent in his own lap. He holds you still, fingers pressing into your hips, “I don’t think so baby, tryin’ to get yourself off like that.”

You groan a little as he lifts you off his lap, spreads you out on the mattress. You open your legs for him, let him settle his hips between yours, grinding his hips as he presses his mouth to yours. You can feel his chest pressed against your own, the entire weight of him smothering your body, his hands smoothing your hair from your forehead as you open your mouth for him, letting him lick into your mouth, tasting him as your tongue works against his.

You buck your hips up into his own, your hands coming down to slip into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling his hips forward so you’re grinding together through your clothes, something skin to how you used to behave as a horny teenager.

“You feelin’ needy, baby?” He whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he does.

You don’t want to admit that you are, mainly because you know he’s not going to fix the problem. You’ve asked for him to be mean to you, asked him to do nothing but use you and your body for his own pleasure and leave you wanted more, so you just let out a breathy moan, which makes him chuckle, makes him grind his hips into yours again before he pushes himself back on his knees, dragging you up with him so he can pull your t-shirt off your body.

He pushes you gently back down onto the mattress, drags those big palms of his down your sides until he reaches the waist of your jeans. He pops the button, drags the zipper down and moves his body just enough so he can peel the material down your thighs and off your body, throwing them behind him to be forgotten now. Joel leaves your bra on, but drags your pantie down your legs, pushing your thighs apart so you’re bared to him, no doubt slick and shiny for him.

Joel stands from the bed, drops to his knees and starts pressing warm, wet kissed to the insides of your thighs. Up the left side, down the right, but never right where you want it. He teases you slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world, and in moments like this you’re always in awe of how patient he is, always willing to defer his own gratification in place of getting you off first and, more often than not, multiple times, before he even thinks of sinking himself into you.

His face finally makes its way to settle where you always love having it, right at the apex of your thighs, where you’re already wet with want for him. You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin so, although you didn’t think it physically possible, you spread your legs wider, showing him your glistening, slick cunt. His fingers press into your thighs as his mouth presses a single, chaste kiss right to your clit. You breathe out in pleasure, letting yourself relax a little as you feel his tongue move slowly through your folds, moving from your entrance where your slick is pooling, just for him, all the way up to your clit. He teases you a little at first, small little kitten licks placed ever-so-gently to your clit. He knows this is what you like, when he takes his time to work you up to the edge. The edge you have to continually remind yourself you’re not going to get the opportunity to push yourself over.

He pulls his mouth off you when you start moving your hips in time to his mouth, his palm pressing down on your belly to keep you still, “This ain’t for you,” He reminds, nipping at the delicate skin of your thighs with his teeth, “Just makin’ sure you can take me.”

He sinks two fingers into you, curling them up just right, your back arching up off the bed to grind up into his palm as he works you open for him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, much like with his mouth earlier. Normally he’d make you come on his tongue, then sink those fingers into you and make you come again, but he’s pulling them from your pussy, looking you dead in the eye as he presses his fingers onto your tongue. You clamp your mouth around them, licking your slick from his fingers, rolling your tongue over them in the same way you know he loves on his cock, your eyes training directly on his with no shame as you pull off them with a ‘pop’. You giggle slightly, biting at your bottom lip as Joel leans down to kiss you, tasting you on your own mouth, tasting yourself still lingering on his tongue.

“Taste good, don’tcha baby?” He smirks, pushing you back, watching you intently as he strips himself of his clothes.

You don’t think you’ll ever quite get over how beautiful a man he is when he stands in front of you naked. Defined and muscular at his chest, with those big arms that wrap around you, his belly, spattered with hair trailing all the way down until you get to his cock, hard, almost painfully so at this point. His strong thighs that you love to nestle yourself between at night. He is truly a spectacle and it’s moments like this that you still don’t quite believe he’s yours.

He settles back on the bed, between your thighs, your hands grip at those broad shoulders as he reaches between the two of you, fisting the base of his cock, moving his hips slowly so his cock drags through your slick folds, the bulbous head nudging at your clit as he fists himself, spreading your wet along his length. You feel him settle himself at your entrance, pushing his hips forward just enough to give you just the tip. His nose runs along your jawline, kisses from his mouth trailing just behind, as he rocks his hips into your own, but only ever enough that it’s just the tip of his cock inside.

“Beg for it baby,” He breathes into your skin, “You want my cock?”

“Want it so bad, Joel,” You whine, moving your hips into his to try and take him deeper, but he’s gripping your thigh, warning you not to push it, “Please, Joel, please fuck me.”

“Beggin’ for it even though you ain’t gonna come?” He teases, one hand moving up to your chest to pull the cups of your bra down, fingers taking your nipple and rolling.

“Wanna feel you.” You say, burying your head into his neck, pressing your own kisses to his skin.

Joel seems to find that satisfactory, slowly pushing himself all the way into you, dragging himself all the way out again. He leans back a bit, gripping you behind your knees to press your thighs as far into your chest as he can get them. Then he really does fuck you. He’s big, and although you know you can take him, it’s always a shock to you that it’s so easy. That he can pound into you with the ferocity he currently is, tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in that perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Awful quiet baby,” He gasps out, watching you bite at your bottom lip, “Don’t like it when you don’t get to feel good?”

You shake your head, Joel dragging himself all the way out of your aching cunt, flipping you over onto your belly. He presses his palm into the back of your neck, keeping your lower half pressed to the bed, whilst his other hand drags you up onto your knees, ass in the air for him as he guides his cock right back to you, thrusting back in all the way. You always loved it when Joel fucked you like this. The angle always managing to feel just perfect as he fucks you.

The only sound in the room is that of your combined moans, little grunts from him and whines from your mouth, and the sound of his hips hitting yours, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. You’re starting to regret asking for this, because God it would be so easy for him to reach round, press his fingers to your clit and tip you over the edge in seconds. If it wasn’t for the way his hand was pressing at the nape of your neck, you could do it yourself, so desperate to feel the euphoria of coming undone around him.

Joel’s thrusts are getting more frantic, even though it’s only been nine months of you together, you know he’s not going to last much longer. He slides his hand down and into the hair on the back of your head, gripping it tightly in his fist to drag your head up and out of the material of the bed. The sounds of yours once muffled by the duvet under you now let loose into the room, echoing around the walls and doing nothing but egging him on, getting him closer to the finish line.

“You like this, huh?” He asks you from behind, “Like getting’ used, baby?”

“Yes Joel,” Because you do, despite knowing you don’t get to finish, something about him being selfish with you, using you just get himself off, makes you unbelievably wet, “Still feels good.”

You can hear him chuckle, fingers of his other hand gripping so hard to your hip that you’re sure he’s going to bruise you there. You don’t mind, not really, you love carrying him around with you like that. Secret marks on your skin, evidence that you’re his that only you know, only you can see, apart from when he bites at your neck, claiming you in front of everyone.

“I’m close baby,” You can hear from behind you, the grip his hand has in your hair arching your back perfectly, angling him just so that if he just carried on like this for a few minutes you think he could make you come just like this, “You want it inside?” He asks, “Want me to fill you up?”

This was new between the two of you, still exciting. After months of using condoms, never once a complaint from Joel, you’d held up the tiny packet of pills, the ones you’d been taking for a week in secret. Asked him to fuck you bare, fill you up with every drop if his cum, and the two of you were struggling to find a way of finishing that you enjoyed more than this.

“Please,” You beg, whimpering as he gives another tug to your hair, pulling you back into him even further, “Please Joel.”

“Ain’t no need for beggin’ now baby,” He groans thickly behind you, “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You feel his hips slam into the plush of your ass a few more times before he goes still, groaning deep from his chest as you feel the warmth of his cum spread through your cunt. You can feel your own walls fluttering around him, taking his spend as deep as you can whilst trying to catch your breath.

Fuck. You can hear him sucking in ragged breaths from behind you, hands still gripping your hips as he pulls himself from you. You whine at the loss of him, push your hips back trying to coax him into giving you what you want. God, this was such a stupid thing to want. Why would you want Joel to deny you the very thing he’d proved over and over again was the one thing he would give you without question? You’re desperate, and it wouldn’t take much, he’d have you screaming his name in less than a minute.

“Please Joel,” You beg, “Please baby.”

“What’s that?” He asks from behind, you can feel his chest lay across your back, pushing you down into the mattress, his cock still semi-hard against the cheeks of your ass, “You beggin’ for it, baby?”

“Make me come.” You demand, like a little brat.

“Awww baby,” He coos into your ear, hand coming to grip the back of your neck, “I’m such a mean man, aren’t I?” You nod your head, hoping it shakes his resolve, “Leaving you all wet and needy.” His teeth nip at your jaw, he pushes himself off you and then completely off the bed.

You turn onto your back, watching as he picks up his clothes to get dressed. Why did you ask for this? You spread your legs, finger dipping down inside your pussy, dragging out the mix of slick and his spend to drag up to your clit. It wouldn’t take very long, already so worked up and sensitive, but he catches you before you can get there, hands tearing your own away from you.

“Don’t be naughty,” Joel chastises, tugging on your wrist to get you to sit at the edge of the bed, he gets on his knees, loops your panties right over your ankles and drags them up, “Stand up,” You want to complain, but you do it anyway, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he drags your panties all the way up, pressing a kiss right where the waistband sits, “Be a good girl for the rest of the day and I promise I’ll make you come however you want later, okay?”

It should embarrass you how quickly you nod your head, how your voice promises him you’ll be good for him. He kisses your forehead, helps you put the rest of your clothes on, passes you the glass of water you’d forgotten about earlier.

“Come on,” He says, “Plenty more boxes to pack up.”

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dianneking · 6 months ago

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The Bet - Brienne/Reader bookshop AU

Hi dears, in case you wanted some trashy, slightly angsty romance bookshop AU starring none other than the majestic Brienne of Tarth as well as yourself...well, look no further cause you're in the right place! It is with great pleasure that I present you

The Bet

Tags: Alternate Universe - Bookshop, Out of character, Angst with a happy ending, POV second person, Idiots in love, Mutual Pining, Misunderstanding, Panic Attacks, Hints of past violence, Swearing. Word count: 5423.

AO3 link in the title above.

"Hello?"

You did a double take when you lifted your eyes from the monitor. You didn't mean to, but the woman in front of you was not the kind of person that usually found her way to your tiny bookshop.

She was...well, she was imposing , to begin with: taller than you'd ever seen a woman be, with broad shoulders that the t-shirt she was wearing did nothing to hide...and she looked clearly out of her environment among the shelves, standing with her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in front of her, shifting from foot to foot, a frown taking over her face the more and more you looked at her without saying anything. As if she was waiting for your reply...

Oh!

Right.

"Oh uhm sorry, yes? Uh hi, welcome! What brings you to our bookshop today?" You cringed at your own awkwardness, but her expression didn't change too much from her frown.

"I lost a bet."

"A...bet?" Well this was unexpected. Surely your little shop was not so scary that getting into it was a dare? And this woman in front of you looked as if she'd be afraid of very little. She looked more disgruntled than scared anyways, light eyebrows corrugating over those piercing, beautiful blue eyes, lips pressing together as her nostrils flared out. She looked like the type of woman who spends more time in a gym than in a bookshop but apart from that, you had no idea what kind of bet would bring her here. Not that you were complaining.

"Yes. I lost a bet and now I have to buy a book here. Surely you can provide me with one." She enunciated, as if she was talking to the dumbest person alive. You didn't care. Her accent was melting your insides into a pile of goo.

I'd like to provide you with my number , your mind dreamily suggested as a reply, but you squashed it ruthlessly down. Not every woman with muscles is interested in other women, you reminded yourself. And even if she were, it didn't follow that she would be interested in you , anyway - the woman was the definition of Out Of Your League, with her short blonde hair, her chiseled jaw, her strong arms crossed on her chest…and you had lost your train of thought once again.

"Hmmmm yes sure. Uhm not a fan of reading?" She bristled as if you had insulted her.

"Of course I read .” She scoffed “I make time to read daily. I simply don't waste my time with all of this..." she gestured around her, vaguely including the manga section and the horror shelves in her speech "...this fiction ." She spat the word as if it had offended her by its own existence.

Right.

If you had to be completely honest, if it had been anyone else insulting your beloved books, you'd have been all up in their faces. These weren't just books, they were your babies, your companions during the long days at work and your even longer sleepless nights, they were your best friends in a way no human ever could aspire to be. From the moment you had understood that in those pages lied countless stories, adventures you could partake in, emotions you had never felt, you were in love with reading already.

That's why you were working here, day after day, smiling up at the shelves filled to the brim, cursing the paperwork and cleaning and everything that kept you away from cracking open the newest release and losing yourself in its pages.

You loved your job because you loved books.

So anyone insulting your papery companions would be treated to your Cold Stare™ and Dismissive Attitude™.

And yet...you guessed this woman was clearly misguided in her dismissing all fiction with such a sneer. The fact that her sneer was so damn attractive didn't absolutely play any role in your sudden conciliatory attitude. Absolutely not. Nuh-huh. Not at all.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

Well, fuck. Daydreaming of a client when they are in front of you. Great way to appear professional, and to make a good first impression on a gorgeous first-time client.

"Huh. Yeah, uhm sorry, I was thinking of possible recommendations that would suit your needs. What are your general interests?" You tried to patch things up only to be once again met with her frown.

"That is a useless endeavor. I will not enjoy wasting my time reading it anyways. Just give me one."

"But you will read it?"

"Of course! I did give my word."

Her word . Who said that nowadays? Giving your word? That was the stuff of old, of knights, of epic tales of heroism, of... fiction .

Oh.

You might have the right book for this hard, formal, stunning woman.

You stood up, surprising her with your sudden movement, but you didn't notice the way her eyebrows shot up, nor the way her eyes followed you as you made your way to the book, rising to your tiptoes to reach it.

You presented it to her like a hunter presents their caught prey.

"This."

She gingerly caught it between her fingers, as if it could bite her, or worse, contaminate her with the debauchery of reading for pleasure.

"This?"

"You'll like it."

"Haven't you listened? I said I don't like fiction."

"I heard you. You didn't say you don't like it. You said you don't read it." You didn't even know where the confidence came from, but you were sure. This was the right book for her.

She seemed to be surprised by it. Surprised enough to give up her fight with a huff.

"I guess I might as well get this since you're so sure about it."

She started skimming the first pages as you rang it up for her, and you could see her frown slightly easing up.

You hid your smile, feeling it pulling at the corners of your mind as she absent-mindedly handed you her card, paid and wandered out the shop, her nose still in the book.

____

"So about that little bet we had, did you get the book?"

Brienne didn't like admitting she was wrong. She sure as shit wouldn't admit that to Jaime of all people. She wouldn't hear the end of it.

But no matter all of her misgivings, she was enjoying that book. The plot had captivated her against her will, and more than one time she had found herself up until the early morning hours glued to the pages, lost in the description of adventures that had never happened if not in the fantasy of the author.

Such a far cry from her usual dry, factual fare of nonfiction books. Boring , some would call them, practical , she’d counter. You see, Brienne was a practical woman and she happened to like that about herself. And if people found her boring, it was their fault, not her own.

"Yes, I did get that" she replied in a bored tone, hiding her excitement below her well-polished mask.

She thought of the excitement on your face as you got the idea of suggesting this book to her. Of how smug you had looked when handing her the volume.

So sure she'd like it. And the most shocking aspect of it all was the fact that she did.

And maybe, maybe in the privacy of her own mind she could admit to herself that she also thought of the way your shirt had risen as you reached for the book, exposing a sliver of your midriff as it did so. And the way your eyes had sparkled when you had handed her the novel, challenge and amusement and confidence mixing in your gaze.

She had liked that too, just like the book, and just like the book she had liked it almost against her better judgment.

________

"How did you do it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as she charged into the shop, the bell ringing behind her long after she had entered, a thunderous frown on her face, the copy of the book she had purchased from you tightly held in her slender yet strong fingers.

She had gorgeous hands too…some people were just blessed with beauty, you thought. And you were blessed with being able to see and talk to such beauty.

The smile that climbed to your face was not your usual customer service one, but a warmer one, a special one just for her.

"So, did you like it?"

She looked taken aback at your warmth, and you could see the faint beginning of a blush on her cheeks.

"I did, if you must know it!" She looked offended at the very thought. It was adorable.

"Oh I am so glad to hear that! The author is an emerging one, only has another one published, if you liked their style you might enjoy this too!"

"What for?"

"Why, as your next fiction book, of course. Isn't that why you came back?"

"I…maybe."

This time your smile got a definite hint of smugness in it.

"Are you going to fight me over this one too? Should I dare you to read this as well?"

"Listen here, don't get cocky. You just got lucky there. It won't happen again."

It did.

As a matter of fact it kept happening, and you fell into a sort of beautiful bookish routine. Depending on how long the book was and how busy she was, your favorite client would grace your shop with her presence once every couple of weeks or more, always putting up an offended front at having liked the fiction book you had suggested and yet always asking for another one.

Slowly but steadily she would start opening up about what she liked in them, allowing you to start collecting tidbits of information about her as well - she loved historical fiction, and fantasy too. She wasn't so keen on sci-fi and urban fantasy unless the plot was somehow worth it. She loved strong female main characters and complex character arcs.

During the day she was kept busy from her work (law enforcement, she told you on one occasion, and didn’t go in more detail, you wondered if she was just a regular cop or maybe something cooler), but she found time to read in the evenings ("Mornings are absolutely for working out, no way I am skipping that for a book. Even if it is a good one.” she had stated, as if it was the law, and you had nodded dumbly, once again mesmerized by the intensity of her gaze, even if you woke up with a book and read it during breakfast and on the commute to the shop and couldn’t think of a better way to start the day).

_______

“And I loved the world building in this one, the interaction between the characters, and I can't wait to read the second part and understand where these mechanical enemies are originating from!”

You looked up at her as she agitatedly waved her copy of Clockwork Boys in the air, trying to express how much she had enjoyed it. You found it hard to believe how different she was from the hard, reluctant person that had first set foot in your shop. Mesmerizing. Just as she was.

Suddenly you felt brave, braver than you'd ever thought you could be.

“In two weeks the author is going to be at our local book fair, if you'd like…maybe we could…go together?” you stumbled on your words a little and you could feel your cheeks getting hotter but that didn't change the fact that you had managed to ask your crush out!!

And she didn't say no! She looked a bit stunned for a second but then she ran her free hand through her hair (oh it looked so soft and silky, you wanted to bury your hands in it too).

“Sure! Is it going to be Tuesday in two weeks, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Had she just…?

“Cool, I have the day off anyways, so it works like a charm.” She… She…

While your brain was still reeling, unable to process the fact that she had said yes , she grabbed the stack of post-its and pen and started jotting down something.

You blinked at her, unsure of what to make of the string of numbers you were seeing until she straightened up and handed you the sticky note with a…was it a shy smile pulling her lips up? Her eyes had never looked so big before, of that you were sure.

You looked at the sticky note. It was a pink one, and you had to resist the childish urge to draw hearts all around the numbers. You just were so happy! You thought as you went to save it into your phone, only belatedly noticing a glaring tactical error on your side.

You still didn't know her name!

You felt like hitting your forehead on the desk. How was this even a thing? Who doesn't know their crush’s name? You, that's who. Too busy ogling her and inviting her to book fairs to remember to ask her her frickin name!

Hehe. But you did ask her out and she did say yes. That had to count for something, right?

You looked down at your phone and then typed up “ My Knight 🩷 ” in the name field, struggling to contain the giggle that threatened to escape your lips. In another world she would have totally been a proud knight, protecting the defenseless and fighting for justice, you were sure of it. And she would have looked gorgeous in armor.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. You'd text her to work things out tomorrow. Surely you could resist that long. The fair was ages away anyway. You could resist a handful of hours to avoid seeming desperate, surely you could.

You texted her that same night, of course.

But she did reply almost instantly, and you managed to start a conversation beyond the bare minimum details of your…was it a date? It had to be a date, right?

She told you about her dinner, and how she had already started on the sequel of the book she had just finished. You could almost feel her excitement through the message.

You fell asleep with your phone beside you on the pillow, dreaming of soft blonde hair and armor and book fair dates.

____________

"Are you the one who's been selling Brienne fiction?"

You were pretty sure you had never seen the man who had just entered your shop as if he owned it.

"I'm sorry?"

"You know, Brienne? Tall, blonde? Hates all fiction books except the ones you've been selling her?"

So that was your knight's name! And what a roundabout way to learn it! Just like in the best novels, it seemed that you had been spared the humiliation of asking her for her name after you’d known each other for months.

Brienne.

You liked the way it sounded.

Brienne.

It sounded like the name of a warrior, a strong, hard-headed and hard-working woman who'd stop at nothing to achieve her dreams. A knight.

“I am Jaime by the way, nice to meet you. So are you the one?" He offered you his hand, you took it mechanically, trying to answer his question without giving too much away. Your knight’s reading habits were none of this dude’s business,that’s for sure.

"I don't know if I am the only one. Maybe she just doesn't tell you about all the fiction she enjoys."

"Nice try to defend her honor. I see why she likes you."

She liked you?

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and it took all of your self-control to avoid bursting into a happy dance.

She liked you!! Shelikedyoushelikedyou.

She liked you.

She liked you !

The man in front of you kept talking, oblivious to the cheering going on within your brain.

"Listen, I know Brienne, okay? She's a lovely girl but I had to bet with her to make her unwind enough to consider reading something for pleasure."

“Well she probably didn't find the right book until now.”

“Or the right book dealer… so are you hers or not?”

"Maybe I am…But why do you want to know that?"

“Well if you were , I'd owe you a huge thanks and possibly a round of drinks, cause she's been in a downright good mood for the past months, and especially in the past week or so. As her partner, I spend most of the day with her, and believe me, I am beyond grateful for the change.”

Oh.

Her…

Oh.

Of course.

Of course she had a boyfriend. No, a partner. That's even more committed, right?You had been so stupid. Stupid and stupidly hopeful. So hopeful and you'd once again mistaken friendship for something else, just like you did so many times in the past.

You tried to swallow around that piece of news, you kept on a brave face while he still waffled about something or something else, but you had no idea what he was talking about.Nor did you care, all the joy that had taken over you had just as quickly dissolved, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You didn't remember him leaving, but you knew that you were quick to lock the door after him and close up shop.Only then, surrounded by your beloved books, you allowed yourself to break down and cry all of your tears.

____________

You didn't cancel on Brienne, even if a part of you wanted to do nothing but stay home and mope. Yet you were sure you'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't go.

And she had looked so happy when you had invited her. She probably didn't have a lot of female friends, you thought. When she talked of her hobbies, it had always been things that she did on her own. Working out, reading, jogging.

She was probably glad to have some company. Someone to talk to that she vibed with. That was that. It had always been that, and you reading more into it didn't change the harsh truth.

Your heart was beating faster when you pulled up to the parking lot of the venue, but it was more due to trepidation than happiness. You had been preparing yourself mentally for a bookish date with your crush, not for…an outing with a friend. You weren't sure how to behave now, your mind too busy going through every single interaction the two of you had had, dissecting each word, each smile, each playful joke at each other's expense. When did you start thinking you could have a chance? At what point had your hopes become delusions?

Your phone started buzzing as you got out of the car. “My Knight 🩷” appeared on the screen, and you had to swallow against a hard knot.

You know you should have changed the name. You knew her name now, and she most definitely wasn't your knight. And yet…you still hadn't.

With a sigh, you picked up, trying to be optimistic despite the dread pooling in your stomach. You could do this. Friends. You could hang out with your friend that just happened to be the hottest woman you'd ever seen. It was going to be okay.

_____

It was not okay.

It was anything but okay.

Who thought that Brienne was going to be the kind of straight girl that gets all touchy-feely with her female friends? She had hugged you when you two met up and you thought you would die on the spot, surrounded by her arms and her perfume and the happiness of her voice.

And then as you walked through the venue, weaving through the stands, checking out books (you couldn't remember a single one you'd seen, preoccupied as you were with your companion) her hand kept finding excuses to touch you, once on the shoulder to get your attention, once wrapping around your elbow to direct you to a certain stand, once simply splayed on your back as you discussed cover designs.

It was torture. Every time her warm hands touched you, your heart would start racing, still stubborn in its hopefulness. But then you’d remember that it was all in your head and your heart would painfully constrict because oh it would have been so nice if it had just been true.

By the time you sat down in the auditorium where the author panel was about to start, you were a jittering mess.

You kept replaying each interaction you had with Brienne, trying to rationally explain to your heart why, even if it might seem like she was coming onto you, she had a boyfriend and therefore it had to be her way of being friendly.

Yes, even when she placed her hand squarely on your knee as the authors started their introductions.

To be honest you weren't sure what had been said at the panel. You mechanically laughed when you felt others do the same, and studied Brienne’s profile out of the corner of your eye. She had a soft smile on her face. As if she was enjoying herself. As if there was nothing wrong with the way her hand was resting on your leg, absentmindedly stroking lazy patterns with her thumb. Driving you mad.

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in her touch that you hadn't even noticed that the panel had ended, and most of the spectators had filed away, leaving the two of you alone in the auditorium.

You did notice Brienne shifting in her seat to turn towards you. Mainly because that caused her hand to climb slightly up your leg, putting it decidedly in the thigh area. Clearly an oversight on her part, but you could feel your breathing getting slightly quicker, and looking up to see her stunning eyes trained on you with laser-sharp focus didn't help you with that.

How unfair.

How terribly unfair for her to be so close, and yet unreachable.

How crushing that her hand, searing hot on your thigh, was not a promise of something more.

How sad that you'd never get to kiss those lips even if they were getting closer as Brienne leaned towards you…you could see her blonde lashes fluttering slightly, the small scar on her upper lip, her breath light on your face…

Suddenly she was too close.

Your heart jumped in your throat, and it felt like it had cut off all of your air supply.

There was a ringing in your ears, and your skin was crawling hot and cold at the same time.

You could see the little scar on her lip almost flickering, as your vision swam with black, and you knew without any doubt that you had to

GET OUT OF HERE!!

______

"So this is where you've been hiding." Brienne's voice was not warm anymore. You guiltily looked up at her from your spot on the bench. She wasn't smiling at you anymore and you wanted to hit yourself for that. It wasn't her fault that you had misunderstood all of her cues and kept seeing what your wishful thinking desired, and yet she had been the one to go through the pains of searching for you while you hid away to work your way down your panic attack.

She sat down beside you, a heavy sigh on her lips.

"I need to ask you something."

Oh. There it comes, you thought. The direct questioning that preceded the gentle let down. The 'I'm flattered but I don't feel the same' speech. As if you had never heard it before. Your heart remembered the pain as if it had been yesterday, and valiantly tried to brace itself for the inevitable rejection.

"Why?"

Huh? That…that was not what you expected her to start with, but she kept talking, and you had no choice but listen. "Why ask me out if you're so clearly uncomfortable with me? Is this some sick joke? It wasn't enough to prove me wrong over and over again? You wanted to humiliate me, too?"

You could only stare open-mouthed at Brienne as she rained down harsh words on you, anger and pain mixing on her face. She was so beautiful. Even when angry. She looked like a vengeful angel, the righteous hand of God, coming to punish you for daring to hope too much .

"I-I'm sorry." You tried to explain yourself, but she didn't let you, her voice hard and cutting and relentless.

" You are sorry ? Is that all you can say? That's not enough for me. Especially when it's clearly bullshit. Do you think that's the first time people make fun of me? That someone thinks that going out with Brienne The Beauty is the funniest prank on Earth? Did you do it for a laugh, hm? Didn't expect me to say yes when you asked?"

"No, actually I did not."

"You! The fucking nerv-"

"I didn't dare to hope you'd say yes because you're out of my league!"

A stunned silence met your words. You didn't know where the strength to interrupt her came from but you had to. You couldn't let her go on thinking you had asked her out to make fun of her or something. And once you started talking, you couldn't help yourself. The truth had to come out, so you pushed on: "Which clearly you are. But you said yes and I…Brienne, I am so sorry. I tend to live in my head and you were so nice to me and I thought…but clearly I shouldn't have. Thank goodness Jaime told me before I made a fool of myself. Which apparently I still did. Fuck. I am sorry for that, I promise you I am enjoying myself today and I am sorry I am awkward and I understand if you don't want to see me anymore after this."

"Jaime? What does he have to do with all of this? Did…did he set you up to do this?" You could hear the betrayal seeping in her voice and you couldn't bear it. If you couldn't have her, at least you could do your best not to have her break up with her boyfriend over a huge mess of a misunderstanding that you did all by yourself. By thinking you had a chance with this goddess.

Better if she hated you instead. Which she would do anyways. If she didn't already.

"No. Nono he's been nothing but friendly. He just dropped by the shop because he was curious about the books you've been reading."

"Then why did you bring him up?"

"I didn't know, okay? When I asked you to come here, I didn't know."

"What didn't you know?" Oh she wasn't making it easy on you, was she?

"I thought…I thought you might be interested in me - which I now realize is ridiculous. That's why I asked you out. I asked you and you said yes and you gave me your number and I thought it meant…I swear I didn't know! But then he told me and now I can't help but be awkward because I had thought this was a date and now it's not and I didn't want to ruin it for you which I guess I did anyways. I swear I didn't know when I asked you."

" Know what ? What did Jaime tell you?"

"That he's your…That you're his…That you two are together. Which makes sense, because you are so well assorted and you look perfect for each other and I am sure he can make you happy in ways that–"

"WHAT?" The roar that came out of Brienne's mouth was almost feral.

"What 'what'?" You babbled back. You looked worriedly at her shaking hands. You knew she was going to be angry at you once she found out about your silly crush. But you still hoped she wouldn't hit you or something. She didn't seem like she'd be the type to take out her anger on you but…but those hands looked like weapons, clenched as they were into tight fists.

"WHAT DID HE TELL YOU?"

You flinched away. You couldn't help it. The loud angry voice booming next to you, the hand shooting out towards your shoulder…you flinched away, your hands instinctively coming up to shield your face. Trying to make yourself as small as possible. Just as instinctively, apologies started dropping out of your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Silence.

Well, not really silence but the soothing pitter-patter of rain on the tin roof above you.

But no words.

No more loud anger.

And no new pain blooming on your body.

You dared to open your eyes and peer beyond your hands.

Brienne…well, she was beautiful, as always. But she was also white as a sheet, her deep, blue, stunning eyes wide open and bright with unshed tears. Her whole face a mask of hurt as her gaze took in your shape, as far away from her as the small bench allowed you. Her hand was still in the air, but it had lost all the strength, it was just hanging, palm half-opened towards you as if to show you it was harmless. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a broken whisper.

"I…I wasn't going to hit you."

"I…huh…I'm sorry."

She sighed and straightened in her seat, tearing her eyes away from you to settle them on her hands, now clenched in her lap. Her back was once again ramrod straight. Just as she probably was , your mind cruelly reminded you.

"No. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, to make you think that I was…unsafe. I guess that with how I look, it's an easy assumption to make."

"Beautiful."

"I'm sorry?"

"You said 'with how I look' and that's beautiful. You're beautiful, Brienne. He's a really lucky man."

It wasn't her fault and you knew it. You couldn't blame her for this huge misunderstanding, you couldn't let her think that she or her appearance was to blame for your reactions.

You put your hand on top of hers, trying to get her eyes back on you, to show her how truthful you were. Her hands were so cold. She still didn't look at you.

"He…We huh we're not together together." Her whisper was so soft that you thought you had misheard.

You had to.

"I'm sorry?"

"Jaime and I are not together."

"You two…are not?"

"No! I don't know why he would…wait. What did he say? What were his words?"

"Huhhh I don't remember exactly. He said something about you being his partner." You tried to keep the accusation out of your voice. She didn't seem like the type to try to cheat on her partner, denying she was in a relationship at all. Gaslighting you for her own ends. And yet, you didn't dare to hope that…

"Oh for fuck's sake! Is this where all of this came from? He's my work partner . Not my romantic partner!"

"Your… oh . Fuck."

"Yes, fuck. And since we're on the subject, when you asked me, I thought it was going to be a date as well, that's why I gave you my number!! But then we were here and you kept avoiding me and you tensed up every time I touched you and when I tried to kiss you you just ran away and I thought…I don't know what I thought."

"Could you maybe…try that again?"

"Try what?"

"To kiss me. I promise I won't run away this time. Or have a panic attack."

"Just like that? That's not how it's done! The moment must be right and mmmmph–"

You didn't let her finish her sentence. You threw yourself at her, lips on lips, slightly smashing your noses together in your haste.

But neither of you cared, lips moving against each other, her hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, and both of yours coming up to cradle her face. You didn’t care, because unbeknownst to the other, each one of you had dreamed of this moment so many times, and yet now that it was happening it was better than any fantasy.

Comments are always welcome. If you want to read more of my fanfictions, here's my masterlist.

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth fanfiction #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fanfiction #got fanfiction #asoiaf

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cre8inghavoc · 2 months ago

Text

Can't help it...

Part 6

inumaki x f!reader

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

a/n: ahhh i forgot this was a smau as well... whoops... so here's some smau for u guys hehe

SMAU

WRITTEN PORTION:

As you and Inumaki pulled up to campus and got off his bike, you could feel the weight of people’s gazes on you immediately. Students were blatantly staring, some pretending to scroll on their phones, while others whispered to each other as you passed by. The attention was unnerving, and you found yourself gripping the straps of your backpack a little tighter.

“Why are people staring at us?” you asked under your breath, your voice tinged with confusion as you glanced around.

Inumaki didn’t respond right away. He calmly continued walking and without a word, he pulled out his phone, the faint glow of the screen illuminating his face beneath his helmet.

You watched him for a moment, curious, before his expression shifted—something between amusement and annoyance flickered in his eyes. He tilted his phone in your direction, showing you what he’d just found.

It was a tweet from the university’s notorious campus account:

@CursedUser was seen pulling up to campus with a mystery girl. Who is she?....

Your stomach dropped when you saw the attached photo—clear as day, it was you and Inumaki, as soon as you got off the bike, which was not even 2 minutes ago. “Oh my god, did someone seriously take a picture of us and post it?!” you exclaimed, your voice rising in disbelief.

Inumaki shrugged nonchalantly, his body language showing he wasn’t too bothered by it. “Looks like it,” he said casually, his voice muffled slightly through his helmet.

You grabbed your own phone, your fingers moving faster than your thoughts as you clicked on the tweet. Curiosity got the better of you, and you tapped on the account that had been tagged in the tweet: @CursedUser.

What you saw next made your jaw drop. The follower count next to his handle was in the millions. Videos of Inumaki riding his bike, doing stunts, and even casually talking to his followers filled the page. You scrolled in disbelief, each post racking up thousands of likes and comments.

Your eyes widened as the realization hit you, you stopped in your tracks and you looked back at him in shock. “Wait… you're famous?! A famous biker?!”

Inumaki chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “I guess you could say that,” he replied, his tone casual as ever.

You stared at him, still processing everything. “How did I not know this? You have, like, millions of followers!”

He gave a small shrug. “I don’t really bring it up. It’s just a hobby that got popular.”

You blinked, your thoughts racing. “A hobby?! People take pictures of you, and you have a huge following on TikTok and Instagram… that’s not just a hobby, Inumaki, that’s a thing!”

He gave you a relaxed smile. “It’s no big deal.”

You, on the other hand, were far from calm. “No big deal? People are staring at us, taking pictures of us! People think we’re dating—and some girls are literally mad that you’re with me! Oh my god, we’re not even—” You cut yourself off, the words stumbling out faster than you could think.

Inumaki's expression softened as he watched you freak out. His smile faded, but there was a gentle amusement in his eyes. “Relax,” he said calmly. “They love making things up. It’s just rumors.”

You huffed, still not fully believing it. “Yeah, but people are mad, Toge! I didn’t sign up for this kind of attention. I didn’t even know you were, like, famous on social media!”

Inumaki smiled sheepishly. “It’s not a big deal, seriously. I don’t really mention it because, well, I don’t care about all that.” He shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“But people think we’re together! That’s…” you trailed off, glancing around as you noticed more eyes on the two of you, whispering. “This is so weird...”

He stepped closer, his expression softening as he met your eyes. “Look, if it’s bothering you, I can clear it up. I’ll tell people we’re just friends, and they’ll stop talking.”

You hesitated, feeling an odd pang at the thought of him saying you were just friends. But that’s all you were, right? Just friends.

“Yeah… maybe,” you replied quietly, your heart betraying the calm tone you were trying to keep. “I just… need a second to process this.”

Inumaki nodded, his gaze steady and reassuring. “Take your time. But nothing’s changed between us, okay? We’re still just us.”

You nodded slowly, trying to take in everything he said, but your thoughts were still racing. The idea of being the center of attention because of Toge’s popularity was overwhelming. The whispers around you felt louder now, and you couldn’t shake the weight of people watching your every move.

“But it’s not just us,” you muttered, glancing around at the students who were still sneaking glances. “It feels like the entire campus is waiting for us to do something… or for you to confirm something.”

Inumaki followed your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed the attention. “Let them talk. They’re not worth stressing over,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

You sighed, biting your lip as you tried to shake off the anxiety building up inside you. “It’s easy for you to say that. You’re used to it. But this is… new for me.”

He took a step closer, and suddenly you felt the warmth of his presence a little more than usual. His hand hovered near your arm, as if he was about to reach out but hesitated. “I get it,” he said softly. “It’s a lot. I know. But I meant what I said earlier—I don’t care what they think. I just care about spending time with you.”

Your heart did a strange flip at his words, and for a second, you couldn’t look at him. The weight of his gaze was too much, and it made your pulse race. “I… I know,” you murmured, trying to sound casual, but the flutter in your chest made it hard to keep your voice steady.

There was a brief, tense silence between the two of you. The noise of the campus around you faded into the background as your focus narrowed on the way his eyes softened when he looked at you. You weren’t sure if it was just your imagination, but something in the air between you shifted—like there was more to his words than he was letting on.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter than before. “Do you think… maybe we should let them think what they want? Like, not deny it?”

Inumaki raised an eyebrow, surprised by your question. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, feeling your cheeks warm slightly. Thank god you still had your helmet on. “I mean, if people are going to make assumptions, maybe it’s easier to just… let them. We don’t have to explain ourselves.”

His gaze locked on yours, and for a moment, you could see a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. “So, you’re saying we just go along with it?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I don’t know… maybe? It’s better than denying it and making it a bigger deal, right?”

Inumaki’s lips quirked up into a small smile, but there was a serious edge to his expression. “If that’s what you want, I’m fine with it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You didn’t know why, but the idea of people assuming you were together… didn’t seem as bad as you thought it would. Maybe part of you wasn’t as against the idea as you had convinced yourself to be.

“Yeah, let’s just… leave it. Let them think what they want,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Inumaki’s smile widened just a bit, his eyes glinting with that familiar warmth. “Alright. We’ll do that then.”

You stood there for a moment longer, feeling the weight of an unspoken understanding settle between the two of you. Whatever this was, you weren’t ready to define it—but maybe, just maybe, you were okay with letting things unfold in their own time.

“Come on. We don’t want to be late for class,” he said, his tone casual again, though the warmth in his eyes lingered.

You nodded, falling into step beside him as the two of you made your way through the campus. The whispers and glances were still there, but with Inumaki next to you, they seemed to fade into the background. You tried to shake off the nervous energy from earlier and focus on the fact that, for now, things were back to normal—or as normal as they could be.

When you entered the classroom, you noticed a few heads turn your way, but no one said anything outright. You glanced at Inumaki, and he gave you a small nod as if to say, “Ignore it.” You took a deep breath and followed him to your usual spot.

As you sat down next to him, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort. Even though you were still hyper-aware of the attention on you, sitting beside him felt natural, like you didn’t have to explain yourself to anyone.

He didn’t seem to care about the attention, and his calm presence grounded you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Before you knew it, the class ended, and the day moved on.

By the time lunch rolled around, you and Inumaki had parted ways to meet up with your separate friend groups. You spotted Nobara waving you over to a table in the courtyard where Megumi and Yuji were already sitting, deep in conversation.

“Y/N! Over here!” Nobara called, waving enthusiastically as you made your way over.

You smiled, grateful to see your friends and eager to distract yourself from the whirlwind of emotions you’d been dealing with all morning. As you sat down, Nobara gave you a curious look. “So, what’s this I hear about you arriving with a certain mystery biker this morning?”

Megumi raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, while Yuji’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Yeah, we saw it on twitter and heard some people talking about it. You and Inumaki?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You felt your cheeks flush. “Shhh!” You quickly shut his mouth with your hand, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “Don’t say his name out loud,” you whispered, panicking slightly.

Yuji blinked, surprised by your reaction but still grinning behind your hand. “Okay, okay!” he mumbled.

You pulled your hand away, feeling the heat rise to your face as you tried to play it off. “It’s nothing. We just… came to school together.”

Nobara narrowed her eyes playfully. “Uh-huh. And that’s why everyone’s talking about how you’re the ‘mystery girl’ Inumaki showed up with? Seems like more than just a ride to school to me.”

You sighed, feeling the familiar nervousness creeping up again. “People are making it into a bigger deal than it is.”

Yuji, still amused, chuckled softly. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’s kind of cool. The mysterious biker has a mystery girl now.”

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. “Not you too, Yuji…”

Nobara smirked, leaning in closer. “Come on, Y/N, spill. What’s really going on between you and Inumaki? There’s no way it’s just a coincidence you two showed up together like that.”

You groaned again, feeling cornered. “There’s nothing going on, seriously! He just gave me a ride. That’s it.”

Megumi, who had been quietly observing the conversation, finally spoke up. “You do realize people love a good mystery, right? And Inumaki’s whole ‘nobody knows who he really is’ thing makes it worse. People are gonna speculate.”

“Exactly!” Nobara chimed in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “He’s already the mysterious, hot biker, and now you’re suddenly the girl he’s been spotted with. Of course, everyone’s going to jump to conclusions.”

You sighed, feeling the pressure mount. “Yeah, well, that’s their problem, not mine. I didn’t ask for this attention.”

Yuji gave you a sympathetic look, though his grin never faded. “If it’s bothering you that much, maybe just talk to him about it.”

You paused, unsure how to respond. Sure, you and Inumaki had briefly discussed letting the rumors slide, but you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the right call. Was it better to clear things up and risk making it worse, or just let everyone believe whatever they wanted?

Nobara’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “So, what’s he like? I mean, you’ve spent more time with him than any of us. Is he as mysterious as people say?”

You hesitated for a moment, thinking back to the quiet moments you’d shared with Inumaki. Despite his popularity and the aura of mystery surrounding him, he had always been kind, laid-back, and… comforting. You realized you hadn’t even seen him as the “mysterious biker” that everyone else seemed obsessed with. To you, he was just… Toge.

“He’s… nice,” you said, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks again. “He doesn’t care about all the attention. It’s not really his thing. He just likes to ride.”

Nobara raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your answer. “Huh. So he’s not all about the hype?”

“Nope,” you replied, shaking your head. “He’s super chill about everything.”

Yuji leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a thoughtful expression. “That makes sense. I mean, he always gives off that ‘doesn’t care about anything’ vibe. Guess that’s part of what makes him so cool.”

Nobara suddenly leaned in, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “So, does he ever take the mask off when you’re alone?”

Your eyes widened at the question, and you felt your face go bright red. “N-Nobara! That’s not—he—” you stammered, flustered.

Nobara laughed, enjoying your reaction. “Just messing with you! But seriously, if you do get a peek, you better tell us.”

You buried your face in your hands again, groaning. “You guys are impossible…”

Here’s the revised version with Inumaki entering the scene and teasing Y/N:

You buried your face in your hands again, groaning. “You guys are impossible…”

Before anyone could say more, you felt a familiar presence behind you, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Slowly, you peeked through your fingers and froze.

Inumaki stood behind you, his helmet still on, casually holding another helmet in his hand. He tilted his head slightly as if he had heard enough of the conversation to get the gist of it.

“Talking about me, Y/N?” he teased, his voice muffled slightly through the helmet.

Your entire body stiffened as your face turned an even deeper shade of red. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and face him, so instead, you stared straight into Nobara’s eyes, silently pleading for her to not make things worse.

Nobara, of course, couldn’t resist. She smirked at Yuji, who was desperately trying to hold in his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand to keep from bursting out.

Megumi, ever the calm one, simply gave Inumaki a nod in greeting, acknowledging his presence without any fuss.

Inumaki shifted slightly, leaning down a bit as he continued to tease. “Didn’t know I was such a hot topic today,” he said lightly, his voice filled with amusement.

You finally turned around, your cheeks still burning. “We were just… talking,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nobara, ever the instigator, grinned. “Oh, we were definitely talking about you, Inumaki. Y/N here was just telling us how ‘nice’ you are.”

You shot Nobara a glare, silently begging her to stop, but she just smirked in response. Inumaki, however, chuckled lightly under his helmet.

“Mind if I steal Y/N for a bit?” he asked, his tone still casual, but there was a hint of something more beneath it.

Nobara raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Steal her away, huh? I mean, go ahead, but don’t keep her too long,” she teased, making you feel even more flustered.

Megumi just shrugged, while Yuji’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Yeah, sure, take her,” he said, barely able to suppress his laughter.

numaki glanced down at you and nodded toward the spare helmet in his hand. “Come on,” he said softly.

You hesitated for a moment, but eventually pushed your chair back and stood, feeling the weight of your friends' eyes on you. Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi watched intently, curiosity and amusement clear on their faces.

Inumaki held the helmet up, then gently placed it on your head. You felt a flutter in your stomach as his fingers brushed your hair back, making sure the helmet fit snugly. He adjusted it with care, his movements calm and steady.

Your cheeks burned as you stood there, trying to keep your cool while your friends watched everything unfold. Nobara’s grin was practically ear-to-ear, and Yuji looked like he was holding back another laugh. Even Megumi glanced between you and Inumaki with a knowing look.

Once the helmet was on, Inumaki’s fingers found the straps under your chin, and he leaned in slightly, securing the buckle with ease. His face was close enough that you could see the focus in his eyes, and the warmth of his touch made your heart race even faster.

“There,” he said, stepping back slightly. “All set.”

You swallowed hard, feeling completely flustered under the weight of his gaze and the situation.

Nobara broke the silence first, her grin widening. “Well, look at that. Personal service.”

Yuji finally let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “VIP treatment for Y/N, huh?”

You could only glance down at the ground, too embarrassed to say anything as Inumaki’s calm, steady presence lingered next to you.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his voice soft but teasing.

You nodded, too flustered to say much more. Inumaki gently placed a hand on your back, guiding you away from the table toward his bike, leaving your friends behind, who were now sharing amused glances and whispers.

You followed him toward his bike, trying your best to calm the flurry of emotions that were racing through you.

When you reached his bike, Inumaki glanced back at you. “Hop on,” he said, giving you a small nod as he mounted the bike himself.

You hesitated for a second, but then climbed onto the back, settling in behind him. The helmet was secure, but your heart was still racing—not from nerves this time, but from the fact that you were holding onto him again, your arms instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Inumaki turned his head slightly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “You good?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if it was the ride that had your stomach in knots or the closeness you now felt. “Yeah, I’m good,” you managed to say, your voice a little muffled by the helmet.

“Where are you taking me?”

Inumaki tilted his head slightly again, the hint of a playful smile in his eyes. “Just wait and see,” he replied, his voice soft yet teasing.

He turned his attention back to the bike. He started the engine with a smooth, practiced motion, the sound rumbling beneath you. With a quick flick of his hand, he shut his visor down, and without another word, he took off, the bike surging forward as you held on tight.

After a few more minutes, Inumaki slowed the bike, eventually pulling into a quiet park on the edge of town. He guided the bike to a stop near a small clearing, surrounded by tall trees and a few scattered benches. The sound of the engine faded, leaving only the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Inumaki sat still for a moment, then flipped up his visor and glanced back at you. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice calm but with a hint of curiosity.

You pulled off your helmet, taking a deep breath of the fresh air as you looked around. It was peaceful here, a welcome change from the noise and attention of earlier. “It’s perfect,” you said, smiling softly as you met his eyes.

He nodded, seeming satisfied with your response, both getting off the bike and taking off your helmets.

“Enjoy the ride?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

You smirked and nodded. “Not bad. Could’ve used a little more speed, though.”

He chuckled, his voice low. “I didn’t think you could handle more than that.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t think I can handle it? Please.”

Inumaki tilted his head, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth. “Oh yeah? Think you can keep up with me?”

“Easily,” you shot back, crossing your arms, feeling a boldness creep into your voice. “In fact, maybe next time I’ll drive.”

He laughed, a smooth sound that made your stomach flutter a bit. “I’d love to see that,” he said, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he pushed off the bike and stood in front of you, his presence close and warm.

You felt your heart skip slightly at the proximity, but you refused to back down. “I’ll show you one of these days,” you said with a smirk, holding his gaze. “Then we’ll see who’s really got the skills.”

Inumaki stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “I like the confidence,” he said, his eyes flicking over your face for a moment before he added, “but I’m not so sure you can back it up.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your face but not willing to let him win that easily. “Is that a challenge, Inumaki?”

“Depends. You up for it?”

“Always.”

He chuckled again, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned back just slightly. “Guess we’ll see.”

There was a moment of charged silence between you, the playful energy lingering in the air as you stood there. You were caught somewhere between wanting to push the teasing further and trying to figure out how to keep your cool around him.

Finally, you broke the silence with a playful nudge to his shoulder. “What’s with the sudden interest in stealing me away, anyway? You got bored with your fan club?”

Inumaki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “What can I say? Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you.”

His words, though casual, made your heart flutter. You tried to brush it off, keeping the teasing going. “Could’ve just asked, you know.”

“I didn’t think you’d mind me stealing you for a bit.”

“Maybe I do.”

Inumaki’s smirk widened as he leaned in just a little closer, the teasing glint in his eyes more obvious now. “Maybe you do? Sounds like you’re not sure.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, refusing to let him win so easily. “Oh, I’m sure,” you shot back, feeling your pulse race under the intensity of his gaze. “But I think you’re the one who’s a little too confident.”

Inumaki raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “Confident? Nah." He leaned back slightly, his smirk never fading. “You’re not as tough as you act.”

“You think I’m not tough? You must not know me at all.”

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, I know you,” he said, his voice dropping a bit. “That’s why I know you’re bluffing.”

“Bluffing, huh? You’re really underestimating me, Inumaki.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just all talk.”

You felt a surge of competitiveness rise in you, and you stepped a little closer, matching his energy. “Careful, Toge,” you said, your voice low but teasing. “You might not like what happens if you keep testing me.”

His smile widened, clearly liking where this was going. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice equally soft and teasing. “I think I’d enjoy it.”

The playful tension between you two hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt like a game—both of you pushing and pulling, seeing who would crack first. You weren’t about to let him win that easily, though.

You crossed your arms, feeling the spark of competitive energy between you two. “You sound awfully sure of yourself,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’m starting to think you enjoy pushing my buttons.”

Inumaki chuckled softly, stepping just a little closer again. “Maybe I do. You make it fun.”

You scoffed, trying to hide how flustered you were. “Fun? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh? So what exactly am I in for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I think I already do.”

His words sent a wave of heat through you, and you had to fight to keep your composure. You were determined to stay in control of the situation, no matter how much he was testing you.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” you shot back, tilting your head in mock defiance. “I’m full of surprises.”

Inumaki grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to stick around and find out.”

You tried to keep your cool, but the way his eyes were fixed on you, the playful tension hanging between you, made it hard to focus on anything else. “Well,” you said with a smirk, “good luck with that.”

His smirk deepened, as if he had already won this round. “I don’t need luck,” he replied smoothly. “I’ve got you figured out.”

“Oh really? You think you’ve got me all figured out?”

Inumaki didn’t back down, stepping even closer, the space between you practically nonexistent now. His eyes flickered with something more as he replied, “Yeah. I do.”

His smirk softened as he leaned in even closer, his eyes focused on yours. For a split second, your breath caught in your throat as he closed the space between you, and your heart pounded in your chest.

His face was so close now, you could feel the warmth radiating from him. It was almost as if he was going to—

But just before his lips could brush yours, Inumaki stopped, that teasing smirk returning to his face as he lingered there, leaving you hanging. His eyes glinted with amusement as he stayed close, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

“Got you,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, pulling back slightly but not enough to give you any real distance.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your face burning with heat. You narrowed your eyes, trying to recover quickly. “Really? You’re going to play like that?”

Inumaki chuckled softly, stepping back just a little more, his smirk widening. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

“You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?”

He tilted his head slightly, shrugging in that casual, confident way. “I don’t think,” he teased. “I know.”

“Yeah, well… you’re not as clever as you think.”

“Oh? And here I thought you liked a little challenge.”

“I do,” you shot back, your voice steady as you met his gaze head-on. “But I’m not the only one getting challenged here, am I?”

Inumaki’s smirk softened into something more playful, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe not,” he admitted, his tone still teasing but with a hint of something else. “But I’m enjoying it. It’s kinda fun watching you try to figure me out.”

“You think I’ll just keep playing along?”

“I think you’re enjoying it more than you’re letting on.”

You scoffed, though you couldn’t hide the slight smile creeping onto your lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. I can walk away anytime.”

"Yet you’re still here.”

He gave you one last playful look before turning toward his bike. “Come on. Let’s head back before we give them something else to talk about.”

You hesitated for a second, still feeling the buzz from the almost-kiss, before following him to the bike. As you climbed on behind him, you couldn’t help but wonder if this teasing game was just that—or if there was something more...

Taglist <3

@madaqueue @mikko-mikko @arabella0001 @swarachxle @s3ns4ti0n4l @jdgfsgdgdvf @tomikixd @arabella0001 @emotionalasf

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navybrat817 · 2 years ago

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Pros and Cons

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You weigh out some of the pros and cons of Andy's offer. Word Count: Over 3k Warnings: Slow burn, reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, t/easing, slight insecurities, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Looking back, you weren't sure how you got through your meal with Andy. Lunch was delicious, as expected from such a top restaurant. The conversation was easier than you thought after his offer, though you didn’t say much more. The quiet moments were more comforting than awkward and he didn’t push for you to speak. But all the while, he kept his attention on you. You had a feeling he was trying to get a read on how you would move forward.

You opted to skip dessert, your stomach still a bit in knots. Andy didn’t appear surprised or upset, quietly paying the check. You weren’t entirely sure you could trust yourself if you stayed longer, his soft, inviting smile urging you to say yes.

Does he already know my answer is going to be yes?

"Are you sure I can't take you back to your place?" he asked when he walked you to the curb, his hand on your lower back as you waited for the cab.

You quickly shook your head, firm in your stance. Andy didn’t need to see the part of town you lived in. You had a feeling he would soon enough, but you weren’t ready for that. Not today.

“Are you sure?”

"I'm sure," you replied as you faced him. Up close, his eyes reminded you of the sea on a stormy day. Has he already swept you away? "I just need the day to think things over and figure out what questions I have."

You wouldn't allow yourself to go into this blindly. The two of you had to have a serious discussion to make sure you were on the same page. The scale already tipped in his favor due to his position in your relationship, if you could even call it that. It didn't mean you would allow him to have complete control of your life.

"So, I'll hear from you tomorrow then,” he said, his gaze still on you as the cab pulled up.

"Maybe sooner, but tomorrow for sure," you smiled, almost wishing you ordered dessert just to stay a few minutes longer. Almost. “Thank you again for lunch.”

Your whole body seemed to respond when he brought his mouth close to your ear, enough for his beard to tickle your skin as you shivered. “It was my pleasure,” he whispered, your eyes shutting as you unconsciously moved closer to him.

Before you could press yourself against him, he stepped away to open the door. The abrupt movement left you cold, aching, and wanting more. The small smile on his face as you opened your eyes was all too proud and knowing. It was exactly why you needed to go home and think things through alone.

But not before I give him a taste of his own medicine.

With more confidence than you expected to have, you brushed your fingers enticingly along his cheek before he helped you into the cab. You took pride in watching his composure slip slightly as he clenched his jaw. Having the ability to command his attention was a feat, but now wasn’t the time to take advantage of it.

“Get her home safely,” Andy told the driver, giving your hand the gentlest of squeezes before he paid the man. “Understood?”

“Sure thing,” he said, whistling when he saw the amount of cash in hand.

"Enjoy the rest of your day," Andy said.

"You, too," you replied, looking at him through the window as the door shut.

"Where to?" the cab driver asked.

You reluctantly tore your gaze away from Andy to answer his question. As the cab pulled away, you kept yourself from looking back. You had a feeling Andy still stood there, watching until you were out of sight. It was strange how the distance made it easier to breathe, but you felt out of your own skin.

Maybe because it isn't every day that someone offers to be my sugar daddy.

As if he sensed he was on your mind, he sent you a message.

"Please let me know once you're home."

Written word wasn't always easy to decipher. It could've read as Andy's need for control, to know where you are at all times. But you felt like it leaned closer to wanting to know you're safe. You hoped it was the latter, as it left a warm feeling inside.

"Just made it. Thanks again for lunch." You messaged back once you got back to your apartment minutes later.

“Thank you for letting me know. It was my pleasure.”

“Pleasure.” The same thing he whispered in my ear.

You blocked out the sounds of the bustling streets outside as you flopped down on the couch. You stayed in that spot for a few minutes and stared at the ceiling. Part of you debated exercising or doing something else to distract you from your thoughts, but your heart wouldn't have been in it. Now was the time to reflect on Andy Barber and his proposal.

"Down to business," you whispered before you got up.

When it came to any area in life that required extra attention, you preferred to write by hand instead of typing. It allowed you to process the thoughts and emotions more since it was a more tedious process as opposed to quickly typing. You also didn't have the advantage of backspacing if you made a mistake or didn't like something. These were your words in the moment and they had to be there for a reason.

Weighing out the pros and cons came easy to you. The obvious major pro was not having to worry about your finances for a short time, which means less stress. And less stress meant better sleep, not dreading work, and more taking care of yourself. A domino effect of positives for you.

On the other hand, minus the few interactions and what you found online, you didn't know Andy very well. What did that mean for your safety when you moved into his building? Or when the two of you traveled? If no one knew about your arrangement and something happened, where did that leave you?

I don't think Andy would hurt me, but someone needs to know what's going on.

You dialed Andy's number, wanting confirmation before moving forward with your list.

"Hi, honey."

You weren't sure you'd ever get used to that warm greeting or the mere sound of his voice, but you liked it. "Hi, Andy. I'm sorry to bother you, but I had a quick question for you and I thought it would be better to call instead of text."

"It isn't a bother. Ask away," he urged.

You tapped your pen against the paper. "Since you and I are still in the beginning stage of getting to know each other, I'd feel a bit more comfortable if one of my friends knew about our…" you tried to find the right word as you took a breath.

"Arrangement?" he mused.

"Yes. That's okay, right?" you asked, not sure why you felt nervous to ask. It may have sounded like you didn't trust Andy, but you couldn't be too careful. Surely he understood that.

"I'm glad you asked. It would surprise me if you didn't want someone privy to our arrangement," he assured you. The man was full of surprises. "Is this friend someone you trust? And will they be discreet?"

You almost flinched when Andy brought up discretion. Of course, he didn't need to broadcast that he planned to pay you for your company. You weren't going to tell a ton of people either. The less people knew that you were a first time sugar baby, the better.

"I trust her and I'll make sure she's discreet," you promised.

"As long as you're comfortable, go right ahead," he said, bringing you instantaneous relief. "Did you have any other questions?"

"What dessert would you have selected at lunch today?" you asked curiously.

He chuckled at your switch in topic. "Why don't I answer that question on our first date?"

"Date?" you smiled, butterflies in your stomach before you came back to reality. A date he was paying you for. "When did I say 'yes'?"

"You didn't,” he said. You heard the smile in his voice. “But my instinct says you're leaning in that direction."

I am.

"I think that's all I need for now. Why don't you hold your breath until I call back? You’ll find out if your instinct was right," you teased,

"Don't leave me hanging too long, honey," he said, taking an exaggerated breath for you to hear.

"Bye, Daddy," you smiled, getting right back to your list once you hung up. Your phone went off seconds later.

"Now you're just teasing me, honey."

You bit your lip as you typed. Maybe you were teasing him. Could he blame you? "I call it building anticipation."

"I want you to remember those exact words down the road." Andy sent back.

Despite the tingling between your thighs at the implication, you had to get back to the task at hand. After jotting a couple of other things down, you realized you were slightly stuck on the last part: the physical aspect. While he implied that you didn’t have to sleep with him, attraction was there. You wouldn’t deny that. Sex itself didn’t have to be complicated, but you had to communicate what you were comfortable with and set boundaries.

And what if either of you caught feelings?

You scoffed at that thought. No way would Andy fall for you. Take care of you? Yes. Trust you? Hopefully yes. But actually want you beyond this deal? Why would he? And what if you wanted more than what he had to give? Was adding your emotional well-being to the list worth it?

You had to protect your heart in this game.

I just hope I won’t lose it along the way.

Not wanting to dwell on that, you messaged Estelle.

“Hey. Are you free to talk? Not an emergency, but still important.”

Estelle was one of your oldest friends. Confidant, beautiful, and well off, many assumed she was stuck up or high maintenance. Truthfully, she had a heart of gold and looked out for the people she cared about. You knew if anyone would keep an eye out for you and not judge you for taking this path, she was it.

“You at home? I can stop by.”

And because she never judged you, you never once minded when she came to visit you in this part of the city.

“Come on over.”

You stared at your list as you waited before the letters blurred together, spots dancing in front of your eyes as you felt a slight headache coming on. Talking with Estelle would help ease any nerves you felt. Besides, weren’t you making the best decision for yourself? Not just for the present, but the future?

“Open up! I brought sustenance!” Estelle called through the front door minutes later.

She would find a way to get into the building without me needing to get her.

Your best friend didn’t have a hair out of place as you let her in, tapping her perfectly manicured nail against a bakery bag. She was almost the type of woman you expected for Andy to have beside him. “Got something for each of us. Important talks means important eats,” she said, arching an eyebrow as she looked you over. “You look nice. Who did you get dressed up for? Oh, my god. Did you have a job interview?!”

“Why do you assume I dressed up for someone?” you asked, even though you did. “And sort of?” you added.

“Because you don’t dress up on your days off,” she pointed out, making herself at home in the living room. She never once looked down her nose at your place. If anything, she loved how you made it your own. “I know I've said this before, but I've always liked that color on you. It’s very…” she trailed off as she set the bag on the coffee table next to your list. “Um. What is this?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have titled it “Pros and Cons to having a Sugar Daddy”.

“Yeah, that’s what I want to talk to you about,” you said as you took a seat on the chair.

“Wait. This isn’t a joke? You’re seriously contemplating getting a sugar daddy?” she asked, picking up the list to give it more of a careful read. Her eyes held no judgement. Only concern. “Okay. Talk.”

Over the next few minutes, you told her about meeting Andy and his offer. She was gracious enough not to ask any questions or interrupt, likely letting it sink in. You were probably one of the last people she expected to go down this road. Life was funny that way.

“So, this Andy Barber,” Estelle said once she was up to speed. “If you agree to be his ‘companion’ or whatever, he’ll wipe out your debt and keep your bank account full until this job opens up for his friend? A legitimate job?”

“Pretty much,” you nodded. Hearing it that way sounded too good to be true. “He said he’d make sure I’m comfortable until I get my first paycheck. And Huffman Enterprises is legitimate.”

“So, a legitimate job offer with this being the only string attached,” she said, showing you a photo of Andy from one of the articles she pulled up online. “I mean, the guy’s hot as hell, so he has that going for him until you start to work again. Bet he’d rock your world.”

“I’m sure he would,” you tried to smile, having no doubt about his skills. He didn’t strike you as a selfish lover. Demanding, maybe, but not selfish or a taker.

"Do you like him?” she smirked, not letting you avoid her stare. “No one would blame you if you did.”

“I like what I know about him so far,” you said carefully.

“Mmm," she said, not pushing for more. "Not much written on the 'Con' side of the list."

"That's a good thing, right?"

There weren't many cons overall in your eyes. Your safety and maintaining safe boundaries for sex were the major concerns. You wouldn't budge on those things.

"It is." Estelle dug the treats out of the bag, urging you to take one from her hand. “You know, you could just stay with me. And I don’t mind lending you some money. You could still quit the diner.”

“I couldn’t do that,” you said, picking at the pastry before you set it down. You refused to take advantage of your friendship with Estelle. Besides, what if she gave you money and you couldn’t pay her back? How could you come back from that? “I appreciate it though.”

She sighed and you wondered if you hurt her feelings by turning down her generosity. “I get why you want to do this arrangement, I really do, but are you sure it’s safe?”

“That’s why I’m telling you. If I go anywhere with him, you’ll know the details. You’ll basically be my failsafe,” you explained, which seemed to appease her slightly before you felt tears come to your eyes. You allowed yourself to be vulnerable. “I mean, this isn’t exactly where I thought I’d be at this point in my life. I thought I’d be more self-sufficient or better off, but I’m barely keeping my head above water. I’m tired of feeling like I’m going to drown. At least he can keep me afloat for a short time.”

I just want to breathe without feeling a weight on my chest.

“Hey,” she gently said, reaching over to hug you. Somehow the floodgates didn’t open. “I got your back on this, but he better watch his. If he hurts you in any way, shape, or form, I’ll gut him. I don’t care how powerful he thinks he is.”

A watery laugh escaped. You had no doubt Estelle would emasculate him if he crossed a line. “I know you will,” you said, pulling away. “I also know you’re the last person who would judge me for this and understand that this stays between us.”

“Are you kidding? All the shit I’ve done in my life and you never once judged me, I’d never judge you," she said fiercely. She was a good friend. "And no one else knows?"

"Just you."

A soft smile crossed Estelle's face, likely touched that you trusted her with this. "Your secret is safe with me,” she promised, glancing at your list once more. “Just promise me you thought this through and you’ll be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I have,” you told her. You felt better emotionally knowing that Estelle was aware and onboard with the situation. You didn’t feel alone in this. “And I will be careful.”

“Then give it a few minutes and let him know you want to talk,” she winked.

You waited exactly five minutes and typed out a message. Your finger hovered over “send”, asking yourself one last time if this was the right decision. As Andy’s tender smile flashed in your mind, you touched the screen without hesitation.

“I’m ready to discuss our terms.”

It didn’t take long to get a response.

“My office tomorrow. 4pm. I’ll send you the address.”

“Tomorrow it is,” you told Estelle, your stomach light and weightless again. This was really happening.

“Come on. I’m taking you shopping,” she said, pulling you up before you could argue. “If you won’t stay with me or let me help with your bills, at least let me buy you a dress for your meeting. Consider it an early birthday gift.”

“You just want an excuse to go shopping.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” she argued, shoving your purse into your hands. “But I do want you to be a knockout for your meeting. Let him see exactly what he’s agreeing to. And by the end of this, he won’t want to let you go.”

A girl can dream.

Negotiations are coming! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x female!reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber #sugar daddy!andy barber x reader #sugar daddy!andy barber #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber imagine #andy barber au #terms and conditions au #sugar daddy au #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x female!reader #chris evans x you #chris evans

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siriusleee · 1 year ago

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Like Blood on Iron | Part 4

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: smut, female x male sex, blood, death, decapitation

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: Three very important updates for you guys, please read:

My tag list has gotten way longer than I'd ever expected it to get. Honestly, I thought I'd have like 3 readers and that's it. It is taking me almost an hour to get everyone tagged, update the tag list, and go back to old posts and comment to people who Tumblr won't let me tag. Because of this I will no longer be doing a tag list. In an effort to make this easier on myself and get these posts out faster, please subscribe to my Ko-fi page OR enable notifications for when I post. Subscribing to Ko-fi costs nothing, and I do not expect you to send me any money. It's just the one page I have that I can send out quick updates.

However, I am currently super poor. For anyone that doesn't know, I am an English Literature teacher. This year I moved from middle school to high school, and buying all the supplies that I need for this new grade level is killing me. I am working at a part-time job to afford it, but if you can and want to, I'd love it if you donated. I just bought $40 worth of glue sticks; it's very expensive. You can donate through my Ko-fi. Thank you to @gazs-blue-hat and @devcica for donating to my wisdom teeth surgery - I just made the first payment; I love you guys.

I did not edit this. I literally finished and am hitting post; school starts tomorrow and the first 3 weeks are so exhausting, I will be going to bed at 4 p.m. each day. So I wanted to get this out to you. Adamantine Chains will have a new chapter posted tomorrow. If you see any egregious errors, please point them out and I will fix them. previous chapters + future preview: - one - two - three - preview

The sound of Lily's soft breath in your ear tries to lull you to sleep, tries to force your jaw to relax but you can't. For the first time since your outburst with Jonathan, Lily had crept into the bedroom the two of you used to share. She had curled into your side; her breathing wasn't even before the door cracked open again and Maggie snuck in to sandwich Lily between yourself and her.

Lily's hair tickles your shoulder as you keep your eye on the window - the warmth is fading faster each night, but when you tried to close it before you went to bed you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You needed the feeling of the cool air in the room.

"Are you going to watch?"

Maggie's voice is so quiet it seems to get carried away by the wind. The bed shifts as she turns to look at you over the crown of Lily's head peeking above the covers. You turn, fingers brushing Lily's hair out of your way. In the darkness, Maggie's eyes gleam at you.

"I don't know. He told me not to, but I think Father will make us."

Maggie breathes in sharply - once - just enough for you to know whatever she's about to say angers her.

"I think Father is making everyone go. Why did he tell you not to go?"

You want to tell her his name - as much as you know - is Ghost. To call him by his name, but you keep that information tucked close to your chest.

"I don't know; he didn't say."

The conversation hangs in the air between the two of you, floating with the dust that blows in from the windowsill. Maggie's eyes burn across to you before she rolls back away from you, her hair dark against the pillow, curling down her neck. Mirroring her you roll away, eyes focused on the silver starlight you can see out the window.

You awake to soft hands shaking you awake; through your sleep you see Mother pressing one finger to her lip. Her eyes say it all to you - it's time. You slip out of bed leaving the warmth of Lily behind as the cool morning washes over the bare skin that shows from your nightgown. Mother hands you a dress, a thick black one. The same one you knew Maggie wore two years ago when Father's mother died.

You pad out the room behind her, trying not to wake Lily up. You let the bedroom door shut softly behind you before you speak.

"I have to go?"

"Lily is staying behind with the Morris girls. Your father expects the rest of us to be there." Mother's voice is tight; she's already dressed in a black dress, simple and loose fitting. She refuses to make eye contact with you as she speaks. "I will be downstairs. You have to be dressed soon."

You dress quickly, ducking back into the room to grab your boots and underdress. Back in the hallway, Maggie crosses you, dark purple shadowing under her eyes - you expect the same exhaustion to be painted across your face.

The temperature feels twenty degrees colder downstairs; you wrap your arms around yourself. Father is absent from his place at the table. A single slice of toast sits in front of Maggie, the neatest nibble taken from one corner. You drop down across from her and neither of you speak.

A knock at the door jolts your heart - you shove away from the table before Maggie can. On the other side stands Mrs. Morris and her two daughters, still in their sleeping clothes and barely awake. Without her having to ask, you take one of the girls from her; Mrs. Morris follows you quietly to your bedroom where you tuck both girls in beside Lily. They fall asleep almost immediately.

On your way out of the room, you shut the window, pulling the latch down so that they can't see outside.

You wait at the dining table with Maggie; Mother and Mrs. Morris speak quietly in the kitchen. When the morning bell tolls, the two of them emerge out of the kitchen. You and Maggie follow behind them, pulling your cloaks off the hook by the front door when you pass by. You wish instead to have Ghost's cloak, the heavy and warm scent of him enveloping you instead of the cold wool you wrap around your shoulders.

The four of you fall in line with the rest of the village, letting the wave of bodies push you toward the town center. Each step you take is heavier, harder to take than the one before. Ghost's voice, warning you not to come, not to watch, rings in your ear with a high-pitched drone that grows louder with each moment. The square is almost full whenever you arrive; you let yourself get pushed away from your Mother and Maggie until you're situated near the far side of the square, right where Ghost will first walk in.

The crowd tries to situate themselves as the council shuffles onto the platform. Your father stands at the back, face pale and empty. Even from this distance, you can see the tremor in his hands as he walks. Behind him, shackled in heavy iron chains, Uncle Henry walks up the platform escorted by two men you've never seen before. His face is gaunt and slack, his lip torn and blood dripping onto his chin.

The abject horror of it hits you all at once and you realize why Ghost had warned you not to come. All at once you think about the executions you had sat in your bedroom trying to strain to see, all the times you watched Ghost come up the street eager to get a glimpse of him and all the families that had been in the same place as yours is now. You think of all the times Father left his boots outside after execution and wonder if blood had splashed on them. You feel sick, horrified. You want to search out the families who had been ripped apart by the executions and beg for their forgiveness.

A hush falls over the crowd like a velvet blanket pulled up too high. You strain past the ringing in your ears to try to hear the heavy sound of boots that you've gotten used to hearing in the midnight light. The sound is different now, leadened and sinister. Drawing your hood over your head you keep your eyes fixed on the point you know Ghost will emerge from.

He seems to dwarf everyone in the crowd when he arrives, sword glinting in the early morning sunlight. You're torn between trying to press closer to him and pulling away as the thought of what he's about to do courses through you. He walks slowly, regret heavy in each of his steps as he mounts the platform.

The head councilman speaks, but you can't hear him above the roar in your ears as you watch Ghost situate himself to the side of Uncle Henry. He turns his face towards the crowd and his eyes search through every person before they land on you. He shakes his head just a fraction of an inch, and you know he's telling you to look away - to walk away before he swings his sword.

But you're rooted to the spot - you can't move as the councilman stops speaking and Ghost raises his sword, his eyes still locked on yours.

There's a moment's pause when his sword reaches its apex - a moment where you hope he'll lower it down and walk away. But the sword falls heavy; you manage to clench your eyes shut at the right second, but you still hear the heavy sound of Uncle Henry's head hitting the wood, and your mother's scream.

When darkness falls, no one stops you from walking out the front door. Father had not come home - you knew he was burying Uncle Henry somewhere, and Mother had to be carried to bed by you and Maggie. Upstairs you'd heard Lily sobbing; Maggie was the only one to witness you slip out the front door.

The red that dripped off of Ghost's sword as he walked back home is long gone in the dust and daytime; even so, you imagine that you can see it trailing in front of you as you walk, tripping over stones in the dirt. There's betrayal here, you know, running away to the home of the man who executed your uncle, but you don't know anywhere else to go.

Eyes peer down at you from their windows as you pass through the village, but for once you don't care if anyone runs home to tell on you. You're not sure Mother or Father would even be able to comprehend what you were doing anyway.

Like he knew you were coming, Ghost sits on the step, hands folded neatly in front of him. He doesn't look up at you, doesn't rise until you're within touching distance. An empty glass sits at his side; without speaking, he pushes himself to a standing position, glass snagged up in his large hand. You don't wait for him to beckon you as he walks inside.

You grimace at the warmth of the whiskey as it goes down your throat. You had never liked the taste of alcohol, but when Ghost sat it down in front of you you had reached for it without hesitation. The glass is heavy in your hand.

"I told you not to come," Ghost says, lowering himself down into the seat across from you. His voice is stern, but without any judgment for you attending the execution.

"I didn't have an option." You speak so quietly, you're not sure if he hears you over the wind and the crackle of the fire.

"You always have a choice."

"No, you always have a choice. You are a man; you don't understand what it's like to have someone dictate your entire life to you. I had no choice because my father said I had to go. And soon it won't be my father telling me what to do, but Jonathan. And I'll be shackled to a life of listening and obeying."

You shove the glass you'd drained towards Ghost, shaking your head at him when Ghost moves to fill it again.

"I'm sorry your father forced you to watch."

"My father," you pull your tangled hair over your shoulder, running your fingers through it to distract you from Ghost's eye burning at you over his mask, "thought that if we didn't come, it would show some level of guilt. I should be thankful that he let Lily stay home, but-"

"But what?"

"But I saw what the execution did to my mother. My mother is not a weak woman, but she didn't want to go. She can't do blood - it makes her sick for days. My father told me once it had to do with something she saw as a child, but wouldn't tell me more. She never attends the executions. But he forced her, knowing she's going to be regulated to the bed for the rest of the week. And I-"

You can't get the thought out - that you are a horrible person for how excited you used to be for the executions. Ghost waits patiently, leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking underneath him. You study the patterns of scarring on his fingers as they splay across the table. They're clean, no blood and dirt crusted beneath them.

"I am a horrible person," you finally sob out, fingers pressing into your eyes to try to press the tears that threaten to come out, "I have spent months waiting for an execution to come around; all I wanted to do was see you - I didn't think about everyone that was losing their life. Or their families, or you."

"Or me?" Ghost's voice is rough; you pull your fingers away from your eyes to look into his; they're dark and unreadable.

"I've never thought about what you must experience - doing the bidding of the council."

"I think you'll find I know more about being forced into doing things I don't want to do than you think."

The wind increases outside, the sound of leaves and sticks hitting the sides of Ghost's cabin. You wonder if it's Uncle Henry, angry with the town and determined to tear it apart.

"How did you end up here?" The question tumbles out of your mouth, and you feel ashamed as soon as you say it. Ghost's eyes flash, his nails dig into the wood of the table. You expect him to ignore you, but he pushes his hands into the collar of his tunic, and pulls out a necklace. With a flick of his wrist, he pulls it from around his neck and flings it to you. It lands a tangled mess in front of you.

"Read it." His voice is a solid command you follow, fingers tracing the edge of the cross as you pick it up; the metal chain snakes across the grain.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley - King's Guard 141st Division - you were in the King's army?"

"I was a part of the King's Guard; we were tasked with protecting the king when he traveled or during battle. There were four of us."

"What happened to the others?"

"I'm all that remains of the 141. We were-" his voice is whiskey thick, and when he swallows, you hear the heaviness of it, "ambushed. I was not able to save them. And so my punishment for not dying with my brothers was to live out my days as an executioner."

The metal is warm against your fingers, as you trace the engraved letters of his name. Simon Riley. Thoughts swirl in your head, and he seems to read them as you reach across the table to pass the necklace back.

"In this house you can call me Simon. Outside only Ghost."

The weight of the day - of Simon's background pushes against you. The small patterings of rain begin to hit the windows as you stand, taking your glass off of the table. You leave Simon as you refill the glass, bringing an extra for him. You drink yours in one go, refilling it again before you pass Simon his.

The corners of his eyes are tight as you step beside him, the glass held out to him. His hand wraps around your wrist, warm and electric. A stone settles in the pit of your stomach as a fire spreads across your skin from where he grabs you.

"You drink much more and you won't be able to make it up the path home."

"Just put me under the table then."

The corners of his eyes relax, and then turn up just slightly as he takes the glass from you with the hand not holding your wrist. He keeps you close to his side as he uses the hand with the glass to push his mask up just over his nose; the edge of a ragged scar peaking out on his cheek. He downs the drink in one go and grabs the glass you'd intended for yourself before finally letting you go.

You'd never enjoyed the way being drunk had made you feel, but as the world outside Simon's cabin swirls around you, you feel nothing but the warmth of the whiskey in your veins. The rain falls slow and heavy, warm despite the cool wind that had taken over the village. You reach one hand out to let the droplets pool into your palm, the rest of you shielded by the small awning above you.

The door opens behind you, the dim firelight spilling onto the rain soaked ground in front of you. The shape of Simon wraps its shadow around you along with the musky smell of him. You watch his shadow as he leans against the doorframe.

"We could run away together."

You had thought about it for a few weeks now. It had started out as a ridiculous fantasy - the two of you riding out on horse in the middle of the night and disappearing into the forest together. It had started out innocently enough, just the two of you escaping with each other, but now -

"Where would we even go?"

Simon's voice is soft, rolling through the rain drops as it passes by you. The timbre of it makes your mouth dry, or maybe it's the whiskey.

"Anywhere. Across the sea. Somewhere just far enough that know one would know who we are."

Simon's shadow ripples; you watch his shadow as he reaches to his chest, to where you know the cross hangs.

"You could go," he says, "but I will always be marked."

You don't know what he means, can't remember if he's told you something or not. But you let the reckless abandon that started building at you so much earlier in the day take over you. Simon's figure backed by the firelight makes your fingers itch to reach out and tangle them in the front of his tunic.

"But would you go?" You ask, voice rising and falling. "If you could, would you go with me?"

The silence stretches thin. Simon chews on the inside of his lip; the doorway groans beneath his fingers as they dig into the wood.

"You're drunk," he finally says, the words falling from him. "And you're not happy. I should take you home." His warm hand wraps around your elbow; you jerk it back and in your drunken state stumble. You try to catch yourself, but your feet slip. Simon tries to catch you, his hands wrapping around your elbow, but your feet tangle together and the two of you fall. Simon twists, getting his body halfway underneath yours.

The two of you land hard in the mud, your forehead clipping his chin. The two of you lay awkwardly, one of your hands on Simon's chest and the other buried in the mud. You try to push yourself up, hand slipping, to peer down at Simon lying beneath you. Mud is splattered across the exposed skin around his eyes. He reaches the hand that had wrapped around your back - the only part of him that has escaped the mud- to your forehead, fingers gently wiping away the warmth that had started to form there.

"You're bleeding."

"Is it deathly?

"I think you'll live."

He pulls his hand away, covered in your blood, and the rain washes it away slowly - the red tinge traveling down his wrist and disappearing into the hem of his tunic. You feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest as you shift so that you're straddling one of his legs.

"Can I ask for a favor Simon?" You swallow heavily, trying to swallow down the nervousness and embarrassment that's threatening to explode out of you.

"Anything."

A red blush starts to creep up your chest as you speak, each word measured and bitten off carefully - worried that if you speak too fast, Simon will disappear.

"I won't lie and say I haven't kissed my fair share of boys. But I've never - I've always been too worried to - to do anything more."

You feel Simon's thigh tense between your legs, and the feeling tightens the knot inside of you.

"If I'm going to be forced to give myself to someone I don't want to, I want to keep something for myself. I-"

Simon's hands tighten painfully around your waist; you hadn't even realized he'd grabbed you or that your hands had snuck down so that they framed his face, your wet hair creating a curtain between the two of you and the rest of the world.

"There are some things you can never take back - that you may regret."

"Why would I regret you?"

Your question cracks the tension between the two of you for weeks. You collide together, the kiss frenetic, your teeth clicking against each other as Simon tangles his hands in your hair and pulling you closer to him.

He pushes the two of you up, grabbing you beneath your thighs as he rolls and stands, pulling you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist as Simon stumbles back into the cabin. Your fingers tease the edge of his mask; Simon shakes his head and you pull them away, still worried that at any second he's going to tell you to go home.

Your shoulder hits the doorway of his bedroom, but you barely feel it as Simon kicks the door shut behind you, darkness enveloping the two of you. This time when you reach for his mask, Simon doesn't stop you from sliding it off of him. His hair is warm and wet; your fingers catch on the tangles there.

Simon presses your back against the doorway as he lowers yourself to your feet. You pull away from him, unable to catch your breath as your hands slide beneath his tunic. His skin is soft and scarred; you trace your fingers across a jagged one that bisects his chest. Simon's breath hitches when you trace it to his nipple, your fingers ghosting across the sensitive skin there.

Simon lets you pull his tunic off of him, his fingers tracing the lacing on the front of your dress. He hesitates there, waiting for you to say no, to push him away.

"You've seen me naked before," you whisper, trying to loosen the tension, your fingers curling around the waistband of his pants. "No reason to be nervous now."

"It's different," Simon says, pressing a kiss to the base of your neck, tongue trailing upwards to the shell of your ear, "to think about what it would be like to touch you, and actually doing it."

His admission that he's thought about you like that - the same way you had shamefully thought of him on nights alone in your bed - sends a spear of want through you. You pull him closer, straining to reach up and kiss him again, but Simon keeps himself away.

"You can go home," he whispers in your ear, teeth nipping the sensitive flesh, "I wouldn't be angry with you. I would find no fault with you at all."

And you know he's telling the truth - if you said so at any point, he'd let you leave and wouldn't hold it against you. But you can't even entertain the idea - the instinct to wrap yourself around him, to claw at him and at yourself until the two of you are open for each other, is too much.

You reach up and place your hands over his, guiding them so that they pull at the laces of your dress, the bodice falling open. You shrug out of it, letting it pool at your feet as you kick it away. Simon's hands linger chastely at your side, fingers barely skimming your skin.

"I'm not breakable Simon."

"Of course you are," Simon sighs as you trace your fingers softly up his neck and to his cheek. His breath hitches as your fingers tease the edge of the scar you'd caught a glimpse of earlier when the two of you were drinking. You trace it, trying to map the features of his face. It ends at his hairline, a second scar bisecting it.

"It's my cross to bear." Simon's voice rumbles deep; you can feel it in your chest. "It's my mark as an executioner - the righteous hand of God."

I will always be marked, he had said earlier and you realize what he'd meant.

Simon wraps his hands around the back of your knees; he pulls you up until you're forced to wrap your legs around his waist to keep from falling. He kisses you again, clumsy - you can feel him shaking beneath the soft skin of your hands. He pulls your hair so that your neck is exposed to him; Simon trails kisses down, nipping at your collarbone.

He's hot, his skin and mouth burning you up. You try to grind yourself against him, to get some sort of friction, but Simon's hands keep you just far enough away from him to drive you crazy. His knees hit the side of the bed and buckle; he drops you gently to the bed. The dark scent of him, and the whiskey that still pulls at you makes your head swim.

Simon's hands are firm on your knees as he pushes them apart and pinning you down.

"If I start to hurt you-"

"Simon, please."

He presses your thighs down harder to the bed, stopping your squirming.

"It can hurt. If I start to hurt you, I need you to say something; I need you to promise that you will."

His fingers have inched upwards and you try to buck your hips and make the connection; Simon digs his nails into the sensitive skin of your thighs and the feeling makes you gasp - more electric than anything you've experienced before.

"I," you swallow hard, Simon's nails scratching down you lightly pulling all the air from your chest, "I promise."

You're ashamed of the moan that you let out when his mouth finds your core, your back arching off of the bed. Simon's tongue is velvet on you, lapping at your wetness with a gentleness you wouldn't have expected from his size.

You'd listened to other girls in the village talk about this - about their quick trysts with the boys in the village and how it felt to be pawed at. But this - this was like nothing you'd ever imagined it could be, and nothing like the girls described it as.

Simon's hands keep your knees apart as his tongue swirls your sensitive spot; your back arching off of the bed as you grind down onto him. His fingers trace patterns in the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. When his fingers reach your wetness, you can't help but clench your knees around him, nervousness and embarrassment filling you. You had never let any of the boys you'd kissed touch you - the thought of their fingers inside of you disgusting, but the want for Simon to stretch you out is enough to make you pull away - not sure how to react.

Simon's tongue slows as he pushes your knees back down with one arm, his mouth pulling off of you with a pop. In the absence of him you buck your hips, but he doesn't move. He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, and when he speaks, the brush of his lips on your skin makes you shiver.

"We don't-," he swallows, heavy in the darkness, "we can stop if you want."

"No." It's a pathetic whine. You can feel his smile against your thigh, teeth nipping at your skin.

"You're going to want me to stretch you out a little."

His words pull a gasp out of you; you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. Simon's hand traces your wetness gently, before he pushes in one thick finger. It burns as he pumps in and out of you; you're so tight he can barely move in and out of you. You can't tell how long it takes before the burn starts to dissipate; like he can read your body, Simon slips another finger in.

Simon works you until you're comfortable; the sounds you make are filthy. You're so wet you feel yourself dripping onto Simon's wrist. He latches onto your apex, and the feeling sends you over the edge. You come with a choked sob; you try to reach down and stop his hand, but he pushes you away and continues until you can't take it anymore.

He pulls his fingers out of you, as you beg incoherently - but you're not sure what you're begging for.

Even in the darkness, Simon's a shadow when he crawls up your body, lips skimming your hip bone, your stomach, your collarbone. A muscle twitches in your thigh; you can't catch your breath in the heat that radiates off of Simon as he dips his head down to kiss you. You dig your nails into his side, and buck your hips up, but he pushes them back down gently with one hand.

Simon pulls away just enough to speak, lips brushing against your as he does.

"If you want me to stop-"

You feel crazed - the way you claw into him, trying to pull him into yourself, the way your lips crash against his, teeth clicking together in a way that would be painful any other time. Simon snakes his hand between the two of you; you jump when it brushes past your clit. You can feel yourself dripping already - wetter than you'd thought you could get.

Simon lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses, resting his hand on your chest. His fingers stretch across the expanse of skin, calluses raising gooseflesh.

"You're shaking."

And you are; it's overwhelming - the smell of him enveloping you, the expanse of his body, hard muscle under a layer of soft downy, and being broken down by him. The thick feeling of being stretched out.

"I'm alright."

It comes out whispered and broken, but you are. You've never felt like this; never thought that you would. You wrap one hand around this wrist at your chest and beg.

"Simon please. I can't - I," you can't get the words out, can't explain that you can't take the feeling of being empty; of being without him.

Simon presses into you, just barely, but it's enough to make your back arch and your nails to scratch down his arm. He hisses at the feeling, teeth nipping at your earlobe. He moves slowly; the sharp feeling of him is enough to cause you to hyperventilate. On instinct, you press your hands to his chest; you can feel his desire to move faster in the way his muscles bunches beneath your touch.

"Do I need to stop?"

"No - it's just - you're too much."

You can feel his smile, brief and small, as he presses his face into your shoulder before he bites down. Hands finding his hair, you grip tight enough that you're sure it must hurt him, but he doesn't say anything.

You can feel every inch of him stretching you out; Simon's voice is soft in your ear as he whispers to you to relax - that you're doing so well. One of his hands trace down your side, trying to soften the gooseflesh. The other pushes your hair away from your forehead, fingers pausing at your temple.

The world pauses when he bottoms out; you can feel him in your throat - he's burning you up from the inside, his skin fire against your own. Simon's mouth his hot against your skin as he trails kissed across your neck. You know there will be marks there tomorrow - something you'll have to hide - but you don't ask him to stop; you beg him to keep going.

"I need you to relax, my love." His soft voice in your ear makes your fingers curl against the blanket bunched beneath you. "You're too tight."

You try to relax beneath him, but you can't - you can't.

"I can't."

"Just breathe love."

You focus on the movement of his chest against yours, and try to synch your breathing with his. Simon lays his hand against your throat, your pulse slowing beneath the pads of his fingers. His tongue snakes out to trace the shell of your ear, and he rocks himself against you.

You're ashamed of the sounds that escape you, you press your hand to your mouth to try to muffle yourself, but Simon pries your hand away and places it on his shoulder.

"Don't try to be quiet."

His words cut into you, and you grind yourself against him trying to match the rhythm he's setting.

Sweat and slick mix between your thighs; Simon pushes your knees towards your chest and the shift in angle tugs at something inside of you; you can feel yourself unraveling faster than you did earlier. Simon's nails dig into your skin as he moves faster. Your hands press on his chest, his stomach, trying to find some space to breathe, but his grip on your waist doesn't let you move.

Simon finds a brutal pace. You dip your fingers between the two of you until you can feel him pumping in and out of you; Simon moans at the feeling, nails piercing your skin hard enough to make you gasp.

He grabs the hand you have between the two of you and guides your fingers to your apex, forcing you to swirl your fingers around yourself.

You try to commit the feeling of him to memory: the texture of his skin, the sound of him panting in your ear, the feeling of his thumb tracing the contours of your nipple. Your second orgasm starts to break around you, and in the haze, you realize that you will never have this kind of moment with someone else.

The thought puts a knot in your throat; you pull Simon down to kiss him; he must sense your desperation as he slows down, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you closer.

His body shudders once and he pulls out; you feel the heat of him spill out across your stomach. The wild thought of reaching down, and taking some onto your finger to taste possesses you, but your fingers are still clutching at Simon. You can't figure out how to loosen your grip.

Simon pants between your thighs, one hand still wrapped around your neck as he shifts so that he's laying down beside you. You shuffle, kicking the blanket down beneath you until you're able to pull it up around you.

You want to say something, anything to dissipate the air that stills around the two of you. But as Simon pulls you into his chest, anything you could think of is washed away.

Tag List:

tag list: @silverianni, @milfs4lifee, @koi-feish, @shirabeastly, @pookie90, @ghostlythot, @hearts4sky, @crystallizedtime, @the-worlds-tempest, @myconglomerateromance, @elena-ph, @chaoticgoblindev, @pipocfamily, @canadianmilkbag, @caspertheassholeghost, @2512121morningstar, @glitterypirateduck, @elli0t3r, @clairdelunelove, @captainprice4life, @generaldestinychild, @crowsjourney, @c0pernicus, @wistfullyhypomanic, @arbesa-mind, @ray-rook, @daisyfrubies, @september-22-1996

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#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #my fics #ghost cod #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty mwii

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acknowledge-reigns · 7 days ago

Text

Rivals With Benefits | Jey x Black!fem OC (18+)

Description: Jey and Jax disagree on plans for Roman and Iris engagemennt party.

Chapter: 1/5

Face Claim: Ariana Debose.

Warnings: Arguing, Mild Angst, Strong language.

This is set in an AU in which the og bloodline reunited before wrestlemania 40 and Roman retained. This is the Jey x Jax sequel to Swipe Right. As always my stories are NOT about real people and does not reflect their character. While there is not smut in Chapter 1, there will be in others. This is very much an 18+ BDSM based romance with some comedy thrown in there. This particular story features Jey as a Daddy Dom (Not Mysterio, you fucking nerds 😂) google if necessary and if this isn't for you, please scroll. You have been warned.

Word count: 1,867

My masterlist can be found here

Iris and Roman sat down with Jax and Jey to discuss the details of their engagement party. They'd decided against the stereotypical Bachlorette and bachelor party and just wanted to have one big gathering. After some discussion, they decided to leave the planning to the two of them, knowing that they could handle it.

However, as soon as they started planning, it became clear that Jax and Jey were not on the same page. They argued about everything from the venue to the guest list to the menu. Just like their first date.

Jax was frustrated with Jey's need to control everything. "Why do you always have to be in charge?" she snapped. "Can't you just trust me to make some decisions for once?"

Jey rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Jax's accusation. "I'm not trying to control anything," he retorted. "I just want things to be perfect, and that includes every little detail."

Jax scoffed, not believing him for a second. "You always have to have everything your way," she retorted. "It's not about perfection, it's about finding a balance and making decisions together."

"Roman will have my head if we fuck this up and upset Iris. You're not bloodline. You don't get it." Jey snapped.

Jax was taken aback by Jey's harsh words, but she refused to back down. "You think I don't care about Iris's happiness? she's my big sister!" she retorted, her voice shaking slightly. "And just because I'm not part of your 'bloodline' doesn't mean I don't understand what it means to be family. you are so full of yourself!"

Jey's face darkened at Jax's comment, his eyes narrowing. "I am full of myself?" he said through gritted teeth. "You're the one who can't seem to get past our first date, even a full year later. You still hold it against me."

Jax clenched her fists, feeling the familiar anger and hurt bubbling up inside her. "Of course I do," she snapped. "You were arrogant and dismissive. You didn't even try to make me feel comfortable."

"I was trying to be a gentleman!" Jey argued back.

Jax let out a derisive laugh. "Oh please," she said sarcastically. "A gentleman doesn't ignore his date's feelings and make her feel like a fool."

Jey's jaw clenched tighter, his anger rising. "You're impossible," he said, his voice filled with frustration. "You never give me a chance to explain myself or make things right. You just assume the worst of me."

"And you never take responsibility for your actions," Jax shot back, her eyes flashing with anger. "You always blame everyone else for everything. I'm sick of it. You want to control everything because you lack control in your professional and family life because you let Roman push you around like a little bitch!"

Jey's face twisted into a snarl at Jax's harsh words. He was used to being pushed around by Roman, but hearing it from Jax felt like a personal attack. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said through gritted teeth, his fists clenched at his sides.

Jax crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "Oh, I think I do," she retorted. "You're a yes man, always doing what your lil tribal chief tells you to do. It's like you have no spine or thoughts of your own."

Jey's anger reached its peak. He took a step forward, his body tensed like a coiled spring. "You think you know everything, don't you?" he said, his voice dripping with venom. "But you're just as controlling as I am. You always have to have your way, and when things don't go according to plan, you throw a tantrum like a damn child."

Jax's eyes narrowed, and she met his gaze head-on. "At least I admit it when I'm wrong," she shot back. "You just wallow in your own stubbornness and blame everyone else for your mistakes."

Jax took a deep breath, realizing that they were both getting nowhere with this argument. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself down. When she opened them again, she looked directly at Jey, her expression softening slightly.

"Look. I'm sorry," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I know we have our differences, but we need to work together for this engagement party. Can we just try to put our differences aside and make this work?"

Jey was taken aback by Jax's apology. He wasn't expecting her to back down so easily, but he could see the sincerity in her eyes.

He took a deep breath, letting go of some of his own anger. "I'm sorry too," he said, his voice softer now. "I shouldn't have let our past get in the way of our planning. Let's try to focus on making this engagement party a success."

Jax nodded, relieved that they had managed to reach a truce. "Good," she said, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Now, let's go over our ideas again, without all the yelling this time."

They sat down again, this time in a more relaxed atmosphere. Jey took out his notes and went over his ideas for the engagement party. He explained his vision for the decorations, the food, and the entertainment, with Jax listening intently.

To her surprise, Jey had put a lot of thought into the details and had even taken into account her preferences. She was touched by his effort to make the party special for Iris and Roman. But she damn sure wasn't going to admit it.

As Jey continued to share his ideas, Jax found herself nodding along, agreeing with many of his suggestions. She had to admit that he had a good eye for detail and had a great sense of what would make Iris and Roman happy.

She started to feel a sense of gratitude towards him, realizing that they could work well together when they put their minds to it.

"I have to say," Jax said after Jey finished speaking, "your plan is actually.. alright I guess. I think it will make for a wonderful engagement party."

Jey's face lit up with a mix of surprise and relief. "Really?" he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice. "You're okay with it?"

Jax smiled at him. "Yes, I am," she said firmly. "You've put a lot of thought into it, and it's clear that you want to make this day special for my sister and Roman. I trust your judgment on this one."

"But we are NOT serving waffle house" Jax added

Jey chuckled, remembering the heated argument they had about food earlier. "Aight, fine." he said with a nod. "We can skip the waffle house and find something else that's more upscale and appropriate for an engagement party."

"Look at you growing up." Jax teased in response.

Jey rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smirk at her teasing. "I've always been mature," he retorted playfully. "You just refuse to acknowledge it."

"Yeah yeah yeah. As if, Yeet-man." Jax couldn't hold back her chuckle.

Jey shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're literally insufferable."

Jax suddenly remembered the harsh words she had said earlier about Roman and how they had affected Jey. She knew she had crossed a line, and it was time to apologize again.

"Jey," she said, her voice sincere. "I want to apologize again for what I said earlier about Roman. It was uncalled for and I know it hurt you. I shouldn't have said it, and I'm sorry."

Jey's expression softened at Jax's apology. He had been hurt by her words, but he could tell that she was genuinely sorry.

"It's okay," he said quietly, his voice filled with a hint of vulnerability. "I know you didn't mean it. But you're right, Roman does push me around sometimes, and it can be frustrating."

Jax could see the frustration and pain in Jey's eyes as he spoke about Roman. She realized that there was a lot more going on beneath the surface than she had initially thought.

"You know," she said softly, "you deserve better than being treated like a puppet. You have your own strengths and talents, and you should be able to stand up for yourself more."

Jey nodded, his expression contemplative. "I know," he said, his voice laced with resignation. "But it's hard to break away from Roman's control. He's been in charge for so long, and it's just... easier to let him take the lead. Besides, it used to be much worse."

"I can't believe Iris is marrying into this soap opera" Jax said.

Jey chuckled wryly at her comment. "I know, right?" he said, shaking his head. "It's a real mess. But at the end of the day, I'm just happy that Roman has found love and happiness with Iris."

Jax nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'm happy for them too," she said. "And even though Roman can be a bit... intense, I have to admit that he's been good for her. She's never been happier than when she's with him."

Jey leaned back in his chair, his eyes growing distant as he thought about Roman and Iris's relationship.

"Roman is... different with Iris," he said quietly. "He's more patient, more affectionate, more open. He treats her like a queen and dotes on her every need. It's almost as if he's a completely different person when he's with her. She makes him better."

Jax could see the affection in Jey's eyes as he spoke about Roman's relationship with Iris. It was clear that despite their differences, he cared deeply for his cousin.

"I've never seen him like this before," Jey continued, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Jax took a moment to think about what Jey had said before asking, "You know, you said that Roman's different with Iris. Do you think you'll ever have someone who brings out that side of you too?"

Jey looked down at his hands, a mix of emotions crossing his face. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I hope so. But I've never really been lucky in love."

Jax's heart ached at Jey's words. She had never seen him so vulnerable before. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she wasn't sure if he would welcome the gesture.

Jey could feel the silence growing heavier, and he looked up at Jax, a hint of sadness in his eyes. He was grateful that she hadn't offered any platitudes or empty reassurances, but at the same time, he was feeling more vulnerable than he had in a long time.

Jax could see the vulnerability in Jey's eyes and knew that he needed some space to process his emotions. She didn't want to make him feel more uncomfortable, so she decided to change the subject.

"So, we've got a lot of planning to do," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's get back to it."

Jey nodded gratefully, glad for the change of subject. He quickly returned to the conversation about the engagement party, grateful to have something to focus on besides his own personal feelings.

"Right," he said, taking out his notes.

Prologue ●◉◎◈◎◉● Next Chapter

#Jey Uso #wwe jey uso #main event jey uso #jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso fic #the usos #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x oc #bloodline fanfiction #Spotify

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pedrostylez · 1 year ago

Text

Don't

pairing: Joel Miller neighbor!au x fem!reader

summary: No outbreak, not canon in the slightest, Joel Miller as your neighbor growing up. You've returned home from grad school for winter break and Joel sees you in the bar

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count:2k

warnings etc: No outbreak Joel, no Sarah, age gap (like maybe 10-15 years) mentioned but not defined, fingering, dirty talk, angst, anger, drinking, alcohol, and food mentions

A/N: I've set this up to be focused on the smut and angst as much as possible, but there is a back story if it is wanted...I just can't seem to keep things short if I give the whole shpeal ya know? Anyways, I'm nervous when I post anything Joel but we are going to just roll with it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, darlin’.” He groaned, shutting the door with his foot as he pushed you into the bathroom.

The bar was dark, humid with the growing crowd of older men just getting off their shifts to have a couple drinks with their friends. You saw Joel when he walked in, t-shirt splattered with black tar and arms dusted with dry concrete as he stepped up to the counter and asked for a whiskey.

You didn’t really expect him to see you in the corner with your friends, who were all fixed on finding someone for you to go home with. They had been up your ass about finding someone for you, watching you cry over your previous boyfriend in the dorm room until you ran home to sulk there.

It had been easy to find comfort in Joel when you returned home.

And when he locked eyes with you after hearing your one friend laugh too loud, his neutral expression grew dark before taking another sip of his drink, turning to his coworker, and continuing his conversation. He was a master at ignoring you.

But now he was in front of you after following you to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Feeling like a cornered animal, palms sweating with anticipation of what Joel might say to you, you tried controlling your heartbeat.

“What?” You said just above a whisper, glancing at him and then turning around to the mirror.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at you and leaning against the door. “You can’t just come to the bar I’m at.”

You shrugged, picking at your nails for a moment before reaching into your purse. “I got here first. And I didn’t know you would be here; Shelby picked the place, not me.” You say quickly, pulling out a chapstick and looking in the mirror at yourself.

This wasn’t the club like at school, you didn’t have much to fix about your appearance. You weren’t even really all that drunk, only a couple drinks sipped on while your friends chatted away and pointed out people they thought were your type. You had only come because you knew Joel frequented here. You could be done quickly with applying your chapstick and checking your hair, but Joel made you want to take your time.

Joel stepped up behind you, looking at you in the mirror as one hand ghosted down your arm. You shivered at the feeling, pulling away slightly before subconsciously leaning backward into him. “We shouldn’t have done what we did.” He amends, locking eyes with you through the mirror and pulling his hand away. He lets you lean on him, his slow breaths expanding his chest and brushing against your shoulders.

You look down at your purse, picking yourself upright and away from him in an attempt to feign further innocence. You really weren’t the planner of this-you just didn’t tell your friends no when they were suggesting the bar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel.”

You snapped your eyes up to him quickly to watch for his reaction. His jaw clenched for a moment before a small smirk climbed up his cheeks. “So we’re on the same page then darlin’.” He drawls, tilting his head around to look at your face. “Nothing can happen again.”

Your breath hitched as his hand hidden from the counter squeezed at your hip, turning to look at him fully. If he was going to say nothing could happen again, you were going to pretend it didn’t happen at all. You stood your ground. “Nothing happened to begin with Joel.”

Like a faulty lightbulb in your dad’s garage, Joel’s face blinked from satisfied to annoyed quickly, trying to control his emotions. “You sure you want to act that way darlin’? Instead of just admitting that we shouldn’t have done it?” He doesn’t wait for your reply as he spins you, pushing you to sit on the counter and allow him to slip between your thighs. “Acting like I didn’t fuck you? Is that easier for you?”

You closed your eyes at his brashness, fingers tightening around the strap of your purse. He was the one that said it shouldn’t happen again. He was the one that was upset you were in the bar with him. He was the one–

“Open your eyes,” Joel says softly, breaking you out of your thoughts and slowly lifting your eyelashes up to him. His face is still stern, but his stare widened as if he wonders what you’re thinking. “You have to stop.” He breathed across your cheek, hand reaching up to slide his fingers through your hair.

You sigh out “I’m not doing anything,” as his fingers curl, pulling at your locks. Your head is tilted back, heart thrumming with anticipation of what he is going to do. Your next inhale is all Joel–dirt and sweat and the malt whiskey on his breath, maybe some of that shampoo you left at his house a couple weeks ago.

“Don’t act like we didn’t.” He confirms, pulling your head to the side to expose your neck. “Even though it was wrong, darlin’. I don’t think I can stand for you just pretending it didn’t happen. Does that make it easier for you?” He is mumbling against your neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

You barely nod, wanting to lean into his mouth, to let him mark you. But you know you can’t-not after the falling out you and Joel had when he told you it can’t happen again. “It didn’t happen.”

You feel more than hear the growl that bubbles out of his throat, the way he quickly presses his lips to your neck and sucks into your skin to leave a blooming red mark has you wincing. His intention is clear; to make you always remember him, even if it hurts you.

A big part of you is willing to let it happen.

His fingers are sliding down your stomach, the friction from your shirt onto your skin leaving a blazing trail. The humidity in the small bathroom seems to increase as his finger sticks to the now exposed skin just above your pants button.

Joel pauses long enough to have your eyes flicking to his, biting the inside of your lip to see if he is going to pull away. His eyes crinkle with his smirk, fingers fully dipping into your jeans and forcing open the button and zipper.

He passes the back of his index over your slit, hot on your skin as he shushes you when you gasp. “You’re okay baby, just wet for me, huh?” He waits for your response, wiggling his finger back and forth to make you squirm away from him. His other hand pressed into your hip pulls you closer, urging you to stay put. “Don’t move away from me.”

You sigh, shutting your eyes tightly to hold back a moan at just the connection. You’ve been wanting to reach out to Joel ever since he told you it couldn’t happen again but held back with the hopes that he would make the first move. Now here you were, desperate for his touch. “Please, Joel.”

Joel pulls his hand from your waistband, yanking down your jeans to your knees before pressing his fingers back to you. Now the pad of his thumb is over your clit, sliding down to your hole to collect the wetness you’ve left and bringing it back. “Don’t pretend that this didn’t happen. It’s the best thing you’ve had.” Joel growls out, pressing harder on your clit.

He’s not asking for a response, but you’re nodding at him anyway to let him know that he is, in fact, the best you’ve had. You feel light headed when he leans forward to connect his lips to yours, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip hungrily before pushing his way into your mouth.

You swear he’s only kissed you to keep your moans at bay as he pushes two fingers into you at once, pausing once he has them completely surrounded by your fluttering walls. “So needy, darlin.” He sighs, beginning the slow pump of his hand, thumb going back to circling your clit.

You groan in frustration at his words, wanting him to stop teasing you. But it’s like he has read your mind, bringing the hand that was keeping your hips from moving up to your jaw, wrapping tightly around your neck to keep you focused on him. “I know baby, I know. I’ll let you finish, don't worry.”

It continues like this, his fingers pumping into you, his thumb circling your clit, your hips meeting his hand with an obscene wet sound that has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Joel’s mouth is agape, watching your face while his breath fans over your chin. He won’t let up, keeps encouraging you.

That’s it sweetheart.

So good for me, aren’t you?

You aren’t allowed to forget me this time.

Fuck, you’re so wet for me darlin’.

You reach your hand forward to dig into his forearm around your neck, your orgasm apparent and on the edge of letting go. Joel knows, smiling at you and leaning down again to connect his lips with yours like he knew the sweeter contact that he has deprived you of would make you tip over.

He bites down on your lip as you feel your vision cave in, black surrounding you to the point that you have to close your eyes and try to breathe through it, hearing Joel groan and push his fingers all the way in and hold you in his hand.

When the fog has lifted, his fingers still inside you, he pops off your mouth and releases your neck slowly. “Careful, darlin’.” He murmurs, holding you by the side of your neck as you lean toward him unconsciously.

You blink at him, whining as he slowly removes his fingers from you and brings them to his lips, and sucks on them. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as they trail down from his tongue, wiping them on the hem of his shirt.

He watches you for a moment, chest heaving and adjusting himself before stepping away. It is suddenly cold in this bathroom, the lights too blue, the tile too white. “No more.” He sighs, running the same hand that was just inside you through his hair. Something deep in your gut warms at the thought that he won’t know why he still smells of you later. “We can’t keep doing this.”

You scoff, hopping off the counter and holding on to the edge with white knuckles, hoping to not wobble in front of him. He reaches for you anyway, and you bat at his hand. “You followed me in here, Joel.” You turn back around to the mirror, glancing at him quickly before fixing your hair. There is an obvious glow to you, flushed and not fully put together, but you would pretend. “I’m allowed to be in the bar you’re in.”

Joel sighs, shaking his head and rubbing his neck. He looks stressed, regretful. “I’m too old for you.”

“Fine.” You snap, turning back to him. “Then let me move on how I want.”

He rolls his eyes at you, tilting his head. “What? You’re going to go cry to the other neighbor John then? Let him fuck you next?”

You feel tears prick your eyes at his assumption, but anger flushes your skin as you shove past him and out the door. You don’t owe him an explanation, and you sure as hell aren’t going to defend your case.

You already have, and that’s the real problem. This conversation has been in circles with Joel all of winter break, and you’re tired of it. You step to move to the main part of the bar from the bathroom hallway when Joel has wrapped his fingers around your arm, pulling you back to him. “I didn’t mean it-”

You snarl at him, making his eyes go wide, hand dropping your arm. You put your hand out, creating space between you. “Don’t.” You say quietly, firmly, before turning back around and heading over to your friends to let them know you were leaving.

You weren’t going to stick around for Joel’s sorry excuse this time.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller neighbor au

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downbad4yoongi · 2 years ago

Text

Namjoon x reader

First Responder AU

Word count: 7156

Friends to lovers

Warnings: mature, smut 🔞(choking, vaginal sex, blowjob, fingering, edging), fluff

Summary: Namjoon's clumsiness proves to be your saving grace.

Thank you, @colormepurplex2 for the banner and the cheerleading.

The blue curtain partitioning off this emergency room bay from the others pulls back, the metal hooks jangling against each other as you lift the tablet in your hand to greet the newest patient to come into the ER. With a few swipes, you access the patient information causing you to stop short and snap your head up.

“Really, Namjoon! Again?” You look down at his lounging form, dressed in black joggers and a cream shirt, on the hospital bed cradling a heavily bandaged hand to his chest. At least he has the decency to look ashamed. You rest back on your hip, the tablet braced against your waist, “You couldn’t have made it five more days before ending up here again?”

Before he can respond, a fellow nurse walks up and silently holds their hand out. With an eyeroll and sigh, you reach into the pocket on the front of your scrub top and pull out three neatly folded bills and slap them into their hand. They smirk at the two of you before spinning with a loud laugh and heading back to the nurses’ station.

The chastised look on Namjoon’s face has morphed into a small frown, “What was that about?”

“That was about you not being able to go another week before ending up in my ER again.” You draw the curtain closed and move to his side, looking down at the tablet to review the information provided by EMS. You blink a few times at the screen before lifting your head to peer at him, “Nearly sliced your thumb off… how?”

You’ve known Namjoon two-thirds of your life seeing as he is your older brother’s closest friend. Ever since they were thrown together for a science project in middle school, they have been thick as thieves. In all that time, you don’t think you have ever seen Namjoon turn as red as he is turning right now.

Eyes cast downward and mumbles, “I was tryi-”

“Speak up for the class. I can’t hear you.”

With a roll of his eyes, his head flops back on the pillow, “I was trying to cook dinner, and turns squash is more difficult than I thought to cut through.”

Your lips purse, cheeks inflating in an effort not to laugh. The urge is a terrible pressure building in your chest; you turn, giving him your back, hand smacking across your mouth to muffle the laughs that do manage to escape. Tears prick your eyes in your effort to exercise restraint. Several beats pass with you taking in deep lungfuls of air before you spin back around to face him. “So, terribly sorry. That was unprofessional of me.”

“Quite. Don’t think I won’t tell Teddy about how poorly his sister treated me when I was in need.”

“Whatever. It’s not like he’d expect anything else.” You set the tablet down on the rolling tray and wrap your fingers around his right forearm and pull it towards you to get a better look at the hastily done bandage wrap. You can already see that blood has started to seep through the final layers of the gauze. “I’ll be right back. I need to gather the necessary supplies to clean the area before the doctor comes to stitch you up. If you’re lucky, you won’t need surgery.”

You walk out of his medical bay, leaving his curtain open, and head toward the locked supply cabinet. Using the key on your lanyard, you open the doors and pull the needed items out before relocking it, and making a stop by the nurse's station to ask them to page the on-call doctor. Leaning against the desk, you giggle at a joke your coworker makes as she reaches for the phone to page the doctor. Before she can complete the action though, you feel the body heat of someone next to you, standing way too close to be appropriate. Your shoulders stiffen as the newcomer leans on the desk next to you, his left hand moving to lightly cup your waist.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

Straightening abruptly you step away, jaw tight as your eyes fill with anxiety. “You would have had to be here to understand. I’m going to finish prepping the patient, and then he’ll be ready for you.” You turn abruptly and make your way back to Namjoon. Your breath leaves you shakily as the items in your arms clatter onto the metal tray.

“What was that?” he asks, his chin tilting to gesture toward the desk, concern laced in his voice.

Shaking your head sharply, “Nothing.” You slip your small hands into the nitrile gloves as you angle to face him, “Now, let’s get you prepped.”

His frown deepens, but he holds out the injured hand out to you. Bracing his arm with one hand, you slowly start to unwind the gauze wrapping his injury. After a few minutes, light is finally cast upon the damage. The note about severing his thumb was a little extreme, but was a close description. You hold his hand closer to you, looking at it from all angles; a few more centimeters, Namjoon would be getting scheduled for surgery right now and you tell him as much.

“Stop being ridiculous,” he scoffs.

“I’m not being ridiculous, Joon. A few more centimeters and you would have severe nerve and muscle damage that could only be repaired by surgery and a lot of occupational therapy. So next time, buy the pre-cut squash, ‘kay?”

Your eyes flick up and catch his wide eyes, his face a bit ashen as he takes your words to heart and nods.

The corner of your mouth turns upward as you start cleaning the wound and treating it with a numbing agent in preparation of the doctor. Light chatter is traded between you both as you work. The banter comes to an abrupt stop as you feel a heavy palm against your back.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon that your shoulders tighten and jaw perceptibly clenches as you are joined by the ER doctor on call. You avoid looking at Namjoon as the doctor introduces himself to Namjoon.

“Hello, um, Namjoon Kim. I’ll be the doctor attending to you this evening. I’m Dr. Brogan Rothport. Looks like you are here because of a severe laceration?”

You can feel Namjoon’s eyes flick between you and the doctor, who’s hand is still resting on your back. You hurry through the remaining cleansing and slide out of the way as soon as you can possibly manage.

Dr. Rothport moves into the vacated space looking down at the supplies you already have ready for him. He hums under his breath, “Sweetheart, can you grab me a pair of gloves?” He turns to you with an overly– unwanted– smile. “Then we can get started.”

You yank two gloves out of the box on the wall and drop them unceremoniously on the tray, “Not your sweetheart.” You shift out of reach of the doctor, moving to the other side of Namjoon’s bed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know I don’t mean anything by it, you’re just my favorite nurse,” he quips nonchalantly.

Before you can respond, Namjoon intercedes his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer. “I don’t think she’s being ridiculous at all. After all she’s only one person’s sweetheart, isn’t that right, jagiya?”

You fight every instinct in you that wants to react and push Joon away from you. Instead you lean into his hold, your own hand gently sifting through the black strands of his hair, “You’d be correct in that, aegi.” You look down at him, and force yourself to smile at him and pray that it looks like a smile one would give to their significant other.

A sharp clearing of a throat breaks your gazes. “Oh, I wasn’t aware you had a boyfriend. I assumed you were single.”

You force a tight smile, the hand at the base of Namjoon’s head flexing a little, “Well, you know what they say about assuming.”

The doctor’s eyes narrow as he glares at you, “Why didn’t you tell me you were with someone?”

“Well, I tend to not talk about my personal life at work, and I am sure I’ve mentioned my love to you before. You’re just so busy that it’s probable it slipped your mind.”

You watch the doctor force a smile of his own as he gloves up, “This is wonderful news, regardless.” He threads the needle and glances at Namjoon, “Well, you should definitely come to the holiday party I’m throwing for everyone this weekend. I’d love to have you.”

A smile naturally spreads across Namjoon’s full lips as he meets the doctor’s gaze, “Of course I’m coming. I was so excited when she told me it was happening. We’re just quibbling over what to bring; we hate showing up empty handed.”

You ease to a stop in front of Namjoon’s apartment building and shift your car into park. Since you were at the end of your shift when he showed up, you agreed to drop him off at his place rather than him calling your brother to pick him up. The entire twenty minute ride was a stifling silence with a soundtrack of throwback hits. You shift in the driver’s seat, clearing your throat, “So how are we going to play this?”

Namjoon stills before shifting back to face you. “Play what?

“This fake relationship we are suddenly in.”

“We don’t have to play anything. Just tell you coworkers we broke up or I got sick or something.”

A sardonic laugh filters into the silence as you shake your head. “Yeah, no. You started us down this path, so you need to commit to this path with me.”

His brow furrows, “I don’t see why we would need to do that. No one is going to really care.”

“Joon, what do you think will happen when I show up to that party alone and Brogan realizes I am alone?” You shift your body to face him head on. “Ever since Brogan transferred to this hospital he has been invading my personal space, asking me out, and calling me ‘sweetheart.’ For six months, I have been dealing with this and I am at my breaking point.”

With wide eyes, “Wait, six months? Have you reported this to anyone? Does Teddy know about this?”

“I cannot have my brother storming into my workplace and assaulting an attending. I don’t need his good intentions to inappropriately escalate things. I reported the behavior to human resources a few weeks ago, but nothing came of it. Everyone at that damn hospital falls for his charisma.”

You watch Namjoon struggle to control his emotions, his jaw tense and his tongue stabbing a sharp dent in his cheek. You remain silent, letting him process. You glance back at him as his hand reaches over and cups your own. “Well, nae sarang, what are we bringing to his party?”

After a brief argument in the car about who would carry in the spiced cider, an argument you won after asking if he was trying to end up back in the ER if he ruptures his stitches, you step out of the warmth of your car into the chill winter air. You wait for Namjoon to join you on the walkway, your eyes tracing over the obnoxiously large house with a huge expanse of manicured grounds idyllically decorated with snow.

“Good lord, his house is as garish as his personality.” You start up the cleared walkway and approach the black front door with an ostentatious gold knocker and wait for it to open after Namjoon knocks. With a deep breath, you both slip into your roles as the door swings open.

Namjoon’s arm curls around your waist, you easily lean into his hold and paint a smile on your face as Brogan greets you and invites you inside. Namjoon’s hand slides to the small of your back ushering you inside before him. Brogan smiles at you, barely acknowledging Namjoon’s presence beside you, as he shuts the door. “So glad you could make it. You’re looking beautiful as always.” His eyes trace along the collar of your off-the-shoulder green sweater. “Really love your sweater… It's so festive.”

You suppress the shudder that begs to be let out. “Well, we are happy to be here. She talks so much about her coworkers, I can’t wait to finally meet them all!” You watch as Brogan finally looks away from you and nods his head in greeting at Namjoon.

“We are looking forward to meeting her elusive partner.” Brogan turns back to you. “Can I take that for you?” He motions at the spiced cider you’re holding.

You quickly give it up, eager for him to be away from you. Your shoulders relax as Brogan turns away from you, Namjoon’s hand rubbing soothingly against your back. “Let me take your coat for you.”

“Thanks, Joon,” you accept dropping your arms to your sides for him to slide your coat off. You straighten your dark green knitted sweater, waiting to the side for him to hang your coats up.

“You ready?” You can see the worry in his face that he is failing to mask.

Your fingers lace with his, “Let’s do this.”

You pull him behind you as you move from the foyer into the gathering area. This time a real smile dawns your face as you start greeting your colleagues. Namjoon easily falls into step beside you and plays his role to perfection. He knows exactly when to be an active participant in the various conversations and when to let you shine, interjecting cute anecdotes, witty remarks, or thoughtful observations.

He is currently in the middle of telling an embarrassing story about you from a few years ago, when a set of arms circles around your waist from behind. You know exactly who it is without evening needing to look. A soft smile chases away the blush that was heating your face as you lean into the hold. “Hey, when did you get here?” you ask over your shoulder.

Hoseok rests his chin on your shoulder, “We just got here. Someone,” his eyes cut to the side pointedly at Jimin, “wanted to swing by the hospital. He insisted he needed to check in on his patients in the NICU.”

You giggle, “Did he? Let me guess, that side adventure took an hour.” Jimin pouts, crossing his arms, telling you all you need to know. Jimin has always gone above and beyond as a nurse in the NICU of your hospital. In fact, that is how he met his husband, Hoseok, who is a nurse two floors down in pediatrics. Your giggles grow louder, accompanied by Hoseok and Namjoon’s laugh, drawing attention from folks not even in your small circle.

Your laughter fades because one of those people is Brogan. You stifle a sigh as you are pulled out of your comfort bubble. In your excitement to have your very close friends here, you didn’t notice the odd, surreptitious glances others have been giving you as you remain in Hoseok’s hold. You straighten and step out of Hoseok’s back hug and closer to Namjoon.

“What’s with the vibe change?” Hoseok’s eyes bounce around the circle.

Brogan clears his throat, “You seem awfully handsy with someone who has a partner. Last I checked, Namjoon doesn’t like that.”

“Also, she told us that this was the first time her coworkers were meeting Namjoon,” someone else throws out.

Hoseok and Jimin turn as a unit to look at you and Namjoon. You can feel their eyes take notice of the way his hand rests on your hip. In sync, they both slowly blink at you before turning back to the group. “Well, this may be your first introduction to Joonie here, but Hobi and I have been friends with both of them for years.” Jimin delivers with his signature smile.

Some of the tension bleeds from your shoulders as relief washes over you. You were worried for a second that Hobi or Jimin would inadvertently blow your cover. You lean into Namjoon’s side, his hand idly rubbing your hip, and smile because you should have never doubted that your close friends wouldn’t go along with your plan.

“Still Namjoon, you seem completely fine with Hoseok being all over your woman,” Brogan brashly throws out, staring Namjoon down.

Namjoon smirks, rising to the challenge, “One, she is her own person; not an object to own. Two, who she does and does not let into her personal space is her own choice. Three, why is this any of your business?”

You turn into him slightly, a huge smile on your face, “And this is why I keep you around.”

Namjoon’s head tilts towards you as he gives a conspiratorial wink, and you can’t explain what comes next. It almost feels like an out-of-body experience as your hand reaches up to cup his jaw, you go up on your tiptoes, and kiss him. You feel his fingers flex on your hip where they rest, before he relaxes into it and kisses you back. His hand slides to the small of your back, pulling you closer as his lips move against yours. Holy shit, you are kissing your brother’s best friend!

A clearing of a throat breaks you two apart, your eyes slowly open taking in Namjoon’s own bewildered gaze. You settle back on your feet with flushed cheeks and a soft smile, your fingers brushing against your lips in a daze. A hint of pink dusts Namjoon’s cheeks, your head turns back to the group and Namjoon leans close to whisper in your ear, “That was pleasantly unexpected.”

You capture your lip between your teeth as heat creeps up your neck. Not even Brogan’s piercing gaze can steal that moment from you. You catch out of the corner of your eye, Jimin discreetly throwing you a look of surprise. You give a tiny shake of your head and mouth a ‘later.’

Brogan claps his hands, his face stony, “Well while that was riveting, shall we move on to the gift exchange?” With hums of acknowledgement, everyone starts moving to grab the presents they brought.

Namjoon turns to you with a question in his eyes. You pat his chest, “Don’t worry about it. This was a staff exchange only.”

“Hm, that’s good seeing as I didn’t bring anything and was going to piggyback off your gift.”

You roll your eyes, “I would expect nothing less, Joon.” You head back to where you left your tote and pull out a gold gift bag with a sparkly red ribbon tied around the handles. “Since I am so gracious, this can be from both of us.” His chuckle resonates from his chest as he takes your hand again and leads you to the last open seat, plush chair next to the hearth. Namjoon takes the seat and pulls you onto his lap. You can’t help the small gasp of air that escapes you as he pulls you down with no resistance; rolling your lip between your teeth as his hand naturally comes to rest on your hip to hold you in place.

Across the grouping of chairs, Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows at you. You shake your head diverting your eyes so as not to encourage him. Unfortunately, your gaze lands on Brogan and you catch him staring at you with narrowed eyes, jaw tense. His glare makes your skin crawl. You shift on Namjoon’s lap resting against him more, his hand soothingly rubbing your side as he catches your gaze. “Are you alright?” he whispers.

You gently knock your forehead against his, “Yes, because of you.”

The edges of his lips tilt upward. “Glad to be of service.” His eyes flick down to your lips and back to yours. You remain still as he leans in and brings your lips together, your eyes shuttering as your lips move with his. Quicker than you probably wanted, you pull back and brush your thumb along the edge of his thick bottom lip.

The eagerness of Jimin’s voice brings you out of your private bubble. “Gift time! I want to go first.” He reaches down to the side and picks up a lovely wrapped present and holds it in his lap. “I am sure you are all hoping that I was your Secret Santa because who wouldn’t. Lucky for me, though, I was given someone who I already was shopping for. Yeobo, Merry Christmas!” Jimin turns to Hoseok and slides the present from his lap and onto Hobi’s.

Hoseok’s whole face lights up with a brilliant smile. “What! How did you keep this from me?”

“One doesn’t reveal their secrets.” Jimin leans in and pecks Hoseok’s cheek. “Hurry up now and show everyone my amazing present.”

Hoseok resembles a little kid on Christmas morning with the way he attacks the wrapping paper. In seconds, a white box is revealed and from across the way you see the Louis Vuitton insignia embossed on the lid. Hoseok is practically bouncing in his seat as he pulls open the lid and lets it slide to the floor. Reverently, he reaches in, eyes wide, and pulls out a black on black crossbody sling bag.

Hoseok tears his eyes away from the gift to look lovingly at Jimin, “Sweets… I don’t even know what to say.”

Jimin smiles fondly at him, “A thank you and kiss would suffice.”

Hoseok laughs and leans in kissing Jimin softly, pulling back he presses their foreheads together, “Thank you.”

“That kind of feels unfair that you got your husband as your person, but whatever,” another pediatric nurse quips. That has everyone chuckling as the gift exchange continues. It’s not long after the plush rug is littered with paper and empty gift bags as it gets down to the last few people who need to hand out their gift.

You bounce a little on Namjoon’s lap, “I want to go next!” You give the bag on your lap a little shake, “I was really excited to get this person as I have been wanting to buy this for them ever since I saw it in the store.” You slip off Namjoon’s lap and cross over to Jimin. “Merry Christmas, Chim!”

You can’t miss the way his eyes light before making your way back to Namjoon. By the time you have settled back down, Jimin has already pulled the gift out. His hands gently stroke over the cream cashmere scarf in his hands. “Oh, this is beautiful.” He sends you a fond smile and wraps the scarf around his neck, “I love it. Thank you!”

“Only the best for my bestie,” you shoot back cheesily.

“While it has been a joy to watch all of this, it is my turn to give my gift.” Brogan stands up and picks up the flat silver-wrapped box at his feet. You figured out after the halfway point that Brogan was probably your Secret Santa, and you have been dreading it ever since. You sink back into Namjoon as Brogan approaches, he offers the present to you with an uncomfortable amount of eye contact.

You gingerly accept the box, setting it across your lap. Namjoon strokes your hip attempting to ease the tension running through you. He props his chin on your shoulder and watches you take apart the wrapping paper to reveal a white box embossed with the name La Perla . Your back stiffens and you can already feel the heat crawling up your neck; Namjoon’s hand tightens on your hip as he watches you lift the lid off. Your lips purse tightly as you reveal the black lace corset lingerie nestled in tissue paper. Your hands grip the box edges, your body vibrating with a riot of emotions leaving you unable to speak.

Namjoon, sensing your turmoil turns his steely gaze on Brogan and gives him an overly-saccharine grin, “Didn’t know you were so thoughtful, Brogan. While I am perfectly capable of purchasing my love lingerie, we will definitely put this to good use.”

Finally getting a semi-handle on your emotions, you look up in time to see Brogan’s face tighten in anger, his cheeks tinting red. You lean back into Namjoon, head resting back on his shoulder as he reaches in to pick up the lace lingerie to show it to the group. “Yes thank you, Brogan. Despite it being very inappropriate to buy a colleague lingerie. I’ll make sure to wear it for my love; hopefully, it’ll make it through in one piece, Namjoon can get a little wild sometimes.”

“Lovely,” Brogan turns on his heel and walks out of the den. It feels like everyone releases the tension they were holding during that exchange and looks over at you, a mix of emotions displayed on their faces.

You cover your face with your hands, “What the fuck.”

“Mm, very quality.” You slide your hands down to peek at Jimin who’s gingerly holding the corset up and appraising it. “Don’t give me that look. He is a creep, but he does have relatively good taste.”

You snatch the garment from him and stuff it back into the box, slapping on the lid. “That is so beside the point.” You stand up and turn to look at Namjoon, “I’m ready to go. Are you?”

He nods and stands up taking the box from you as you quickly hug Jimin and Hoseok good-bye. Namjoon does the bro hug thing with them and then you’re in the foyer putting back on your layers. With one last wave, Namjoon opens the front door and jumps back, shouting in shock as a pile of snow rushes in through the open door.

Other guests start trailing in to see what the commotion is about as you look out the door and see piles and piles of snow have accumulated over the last few hours. Something that no one had realized because Brogan had drawn all the drapes to hold out the cold. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” you huff.

After an hour of arguing in circles, praying to a higher power, an almost brawl, and checking the weather reports, it's determined that you are all stuck for at least the night. You’re currently settled in one of several lounges in this overly large house with Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin.

“Did I do something terrible in a past life?” You throw the question out as you lay on your back across one of the sofas, your legs draped over Namjoon’s lap.

“Mmmm, probably. I always thought you did something devious in your past life. Maybe something like an interrogator or an assassin. Sometimes your looks can kill.” Jimin laughs as he catches the throw pillow you toss at his face.

“That was a rhetorical question.”

Hoseok clears his throat, “So are we not going to talk about the elephant in the room?”

Namjoon’s hand rubs soothingly up and down your calf, “Like what a massive asshole Brogan is?”

“Yes, and that apparently you’re dating your best friend’s little sister.” Hoseok eyes the both of you.

Namjoon catches your eye and shrugs one shoulder at you, leaving the choice up to you. With a sigh, you shift to a sitting position but leave your legs on Namjoon’s lap. “I would have told you if I was really with Namjoon. He is helping me keep Brogan at bay.”

Jimin straightens up, “What did he do?”

You divert your eyes, worrying your lower lip. Namjoon gently squeezes your calf and answers, “I was at the ER–”

“Again?!” Jimin interjects.

Namjoon ignores the comment and continues, “I had cut my hand pretty badly and she was assigned as my ER nurse. I witnessed Brogan inappropriately try to flirt with her and invade her space.” He looks over at you, “She was clearly upset and uncomfortable, and so I acted on instinct and pretended to be her boyfriend to get him to back off.”

“It threw me for a moment, but I went along with it and grabbed that life preserver with both hands.” You look at Namjoon, your expression relaying how grateful you are for his intervention.

Hoseok snaps, “Can’t believe that prick still works at our hospital.”

“Money talks and Daddy’s money talks even louder,” Jimin quips sardonically.

The three of you nod solemnly. Hoseok softly claps his hands, “Let’s stop wasting our time thinking about that asshole. I’d rather discuss how your fake relationship somehow includes very real kissing.”

You duck your head, cheeks heating, “Um, I don’t really have an explanation for that.” You glance at Namjoon, “It just felt right.”

“Twice?”

Namjoon’s dimples appear as he laughs softly and nods. His fingers crawl up your leg to snag your fingers in his. “Pissed Brogan off didn’t it?” Namjoon says as his eyes fill with a contradicting message.

Your hands grip the cold edge of the marble countertop in the bathroom and take a few deep breaths. Your mind is a mess and can’t seem to settle on any one thought. You’ve really managed to stick your foot in it this time and now you have to sleep in the same bed.

Was he just playing along?

Did he actually want to kiss you?

Will he be expecting more after those kisses? You‘re not ashamed to admit you like what you’ve experienced thus far.

Do I want more? You lift your head and stare at your reflection. Worrying at your lip, you think about the consequences if you do what you want to versus what you should probably do. You release the pull you have on your lip having made your decision.

Namjoon is idly scrolling on his phone as he lounges on the mound of pillows on the king-size bed when you open the bathroom door and casually lean against the doorframe. The light from behind you perfectly framing every dip and curve of your body in the expensive lingerie that was gifted to you. You know you look amazing; the corset is perfectly cinched at your waist providing just the right lift to your breasts, the lace briefs highlighting everything it needs to.

Namjoon’s eyes flick over and then back to his phone but quickly snapback, his phone slipping from his hands, as he fully takes you in. You can’t suppress the smirk that lifts your lips as his eyes trail down your body.

He slowly sits up, “Um, what are you doing?”

“What feels good.”

He blinks slowly at you, his mouth still gaping.

“It would be a shame to waste all of this, no?” Your hand trails down your side from just under your chest to your hip.

Namjoon stands up and stalks toward you, the intensity of his gaze ensnaring yours. He comes to a stop, leaving just a breath of space between you. He lightly runs his finger along the thin strap of the corset, it’s more like a whisper of a touch actually. “It would be a crime to not take advantage of the generosity provided to us.”

Your breath shudders as that whisper of a touch teases along the top of the corset, teasing you. “Absolutely,” you whisper.

Namjoon’s lips crash against yours as he yanks you against him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, arching into him as his tongue sweeps into your mouth. You slide one hand into the hair at his nape, the other gripping the back of his shirt as you meet him with equal vigor. He slides his hands down your waist to your hips before sliding around to grip your ass and lifting you into the air. You don’t hesitate to wrap your legs around his waist, your tongues dueling with each other.

A grunt forced from your mouth into his as your back collides with the wall, his hips pinning you to the hard surface as his hands navigate back to your waist. You nip and pull at his thick bottom lip as his fingers dig into your ribs. He dives down to your neck, his tongue leaving behind a wet trail before settling on a spot and sucking.

Namjoon presses his forehead to yours, his breath gusting against your face, as he pauses the frenzy. He gently squeezes your waist, “Are you really sure? If we cross this line, there’s no going back.”

Your tongue traces over your lips and you nod. “I am very sure. Ever since that first kiss, I haven’t stopped thinking of the possibilities.”

As the last words leave your lips, his hips kick forward grinding your lower back hard against the wall as his hands wedge between to start popping open the fastenings on your corset. Your head falls back against the wall, his mouth leaving a string of purple bruises down the column of your neck. A surprised gasp is pulled from you at the sudden pressure of his teeth biting down on the skin of your collar bone. You arch into it, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

You feel the deep timbre of his laugh more than hear it, “Mmm, you liked that huh?” He unhooks the last fastener, your chest spilling free as the tension of lace falls away. You hold eye contact, your teeth digging into your own lip, as his large palm cups you and slowly starts to squeeze. The rhythm of your breathing falters with the slow increase in pressure around your tender breast, drawing a whimper from you. His eyes dart to the mottled skin around his fingers as he maintains the harsh grip he has on you. “There something you want to tell me?”

He releases his grip, the pressure from his hold leaving behind a dark reddish-purple ring around your breast. You buck your hips as much as you can as blood rushes back into the area. “Take my mind off tonight. Make me forget everything. I won’t break…but it never hurts to try.”

You can see the sparks ignite in his eyes as his lips collide with yours, this kiss punishing and intense. Before your body can fully react to it, your grip on gravity is yanked away as you sail through the air and land with a bounce on the plush bed. You lay there for a beat, heart racing before leveraging up onto your elbows. Fortunately just in the nick of time because you get a front row seat to Namjoon stripping off his clothes as he stalks toward the bed after you. The last piece of clothing, his boxer briefs, join the rest of the clothes strewn across the floor; your eyes can’t settle on any one thing to look at.

Namjoon is a fucking adonis. Your eyes run from his broad shoulders to the taper of his waist down to follow his v-line straight to the thick cock framed by even thicker thighs. A startled sound escapes you as he grabs one of your ankles and yanks you to the edge of the mattress, stepping in between your spread legs. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing along your jaw before tilting your head back and meeting your eyes. His fingers slip back to cup the back of your hair, your body tensing in anticipation. Suddenly his grip on your hair tightens, yanking your head back sharply, “Tap out if it’s too much.”

You’re barely able to nod your head before being pulled forward and having your lips spread open by his cock. You roll your eyes up to watch him watch you as his hips continue their slow press forward only stopping when his tip is nestled at the back of your throat. He stills for a moment just taking the view in, but it’s not long before you become impatient. You flutter your lashes at him and that turns out to be the perfect thing to set him off.

His hips draw back and snap forward, his hand holding you in place as he starts fucking your mouth. Your fingers curl and hold onto the blankets under you as he uses your mouth. You can’t help but moan around him with the way his cock is perfectly stretching your jaw wide and coating your tongue with the taste of him. Your deep moan has his hips kicking forward even harder, his cock sliding down your throat. Your eyes sting with the pricking of tears as his pace intensifies, your body flushed with need as he takes what he wants from you.

“Fuck, your mouth. It’s so perfect,” he moans, head falling back on his shoulders before rolling to look down at you. “Just look at you taking my cock so well.” His pace slows until with one last deep push he buries his cock deep in your throat, your nose almost touching his pelvis. He keeps you there for a moment, your throat spasming as you choke on the meat of him.

Your seconds from needing to tap out when he pulls you off him, a thick trail of your saliva tethers you together before snapping when he releases his hold on your hair letting you collapse back on the bed. Your throat burns as you suck down air while simultaneously giving in to the urge to cough and clear your throat. Namjoon stands over you watching you patiently. It’s not too long before your body calms and you look up at him, face wet with tears and slick with your spit.

“Okay?”

You give a raspy laugh, “Never better.”

“Who knew you were hiding this side of you? How much more can you take?”

You bite your lip and lift one of your legs to slide your foot up along the hard planes of his abdomen. “I contain multitudes.” You slide your foot down until your toes are lightly ghosting down his length, “All of it.”

A visible tremor runs through you as Namjoon gives you a devious smile and glides his hands down your legs to the lace edges of your lingerie. He balls his fist in the front panel and yanks, ripping them from your body. Your hips are jerked off the bed with the force of it. A deep pulse throbbing within you at the aggression.

You can feel the weight of his gaze between your legs, you watch as he bites his own lip before sliding a finger through your swollen, wet lips. His finger dips in teasing you before he plunges two fingers into you. You arch off the bed with a gasp, your body clasping tight around him.

His fingers quickly work you into a frenzy, a deep heat coiling in your belly that has you yanking on the bedding around you. You're ready for the explosion of pleasure that is about to happen when his fingers yank free of you. Your eyes snap open, “What the fuck?”

He straightens and shrugs, “I don’t think you earned it just yet.”

If looks could kill, daggers would be piercing his chest right now. As is, he just chuckles at your frustration, grabbing you by the hips. He flips you over onto your front, your hips curved right over the edge of the bed. A ringing sound echoes through the room as a sharp sting blooms along your ass. His hand soothingly rubs the sting away before he grips both your hips and tilts you just right.

Your breath shudders from you as you feel his heat glide between your aching lips and teases your tight bundle of nerves. He repeats the motion again and again until you’re a mewling mess in front of him. Tears prick your eyes in frustration, your body desperate for more when the heat of his body leaves you for a brief moment before connecting back with you. His pelvis slams against your ass as he buries his cock inside you.

You don’t even bother to smother the scream that escapes you as he splits you open on his thick cock. You’re writhing on the bed, unsure if you are trying to get away or get closer to him. He waits patiently until you’ve calmed and have relaxed back into the mattress before moving again.

The slow drag of him leaving you pulls moans from both of you, your walls clinging to every inch of him. It’s only the tightening of his grip on you that gives you a warning as he snaps his hips forward again. The pace he sets is brutal as he fucks you into the mattress. Your hands desperately grapple at the bedding needing to hold on as he fucks you into another universe. The skin of your ass burning with the intensity of his thrusts driving you higher and higher.

You cry out as his fist wraps in your hair and yanks you backward, pressing your back to his chest. The tip of his cock hitting you at just the right angle has you clawing at his arms, your eyes rolling back in your head. One hand remains on your hip as he keeps pace, the other sliding to curl around the front of your neck pushing your head back to rest on his shoulder.

The cries you were letting out are swiftly cut off as his hand squeezes down around your throat. Your walls tighten around him as he slowly increases the pressure from just restricting your vocal chords to cutting off your air flow completely. The speed of his thrusts slows as your pussy clamps down tighter on his cock. A few more deep thrusts has your nails biting hard into his arms, leaving deep red crescents. He releases his grip on your throat and the rush of oxygen back into your lungs along with the waves of pleasure crashing through you has you seeing stars.

You’re almost completely out of it as Namjoon rams deep one more time and spills into your depths. You both fall forward onto the bed, Namjoon just manages to catch himself on his left arm so he doesn’t crush you. You’re unsure of how long you remain like that as you come back to earth, but soon he is pulling out of you and disappearing into the bathroom as you lay there eyes closed.

You jolt back to awareness when the warm softness of a cloth strokes between your legs. You squirm as he brushes against your sensitive pussy before settling back down when he tosses the cloth toward the bathroom door and helps you shift to lay fully on the bed. He shuffles in next to you and pulls the duvet over you both.

You curl against him, resting your head on his shoulder as you loosely wrap an arm and a leg around him. You nuzzle at the skin of his bare chest, “Mmm, so how are we going to break this to Teddy?”

#bangtanwhq #bangtanboys #namjoon smut #namjoon fanfic #friends to lovers #bts smut #bts namjoon #side jihope #jihope #bts fanfction #gift exchange #thanks for reading #first responder au #accident prone namjoon #bts ff #bts fanfic

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kirythestitchwitch · 7 months ago

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Klaroline WIP Wed - fake sexy lamp au

Okay so like the basic premise of this fic is that Klaus finds out about Elena and in order to keep an eye on his doppelgänger, comes to town before Stefan and fake woos her in the guise of a college student. He just doesn't count on her extremely opinionated best friend Caroline butting her nose into everything and messing with all his plans and getting under his skin.

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It was astonishing what a thousand years could do to a place. The last time he’d seen the village that would become Mystic Falls, it had been a half burned wreck, a testament to the sins of fathers coming to roost on the sons. Now?

Well, it was no longer on fire, Klaus thought blandly, looking around the town square from where he sat on an out-of-the-way park bench. One could term that an improvement. It was disgustingly picturesque in that true Southern Americana way.

As he flipped through the file folder he’d had liberated from the Sheriff’s file folder drawers by a convenient deputy, he rubbed at his jaw absently, fingers missing the usually present stubble. Going undercover, at his age. The temptation to burn this town to the ground—again—and take his doppelgänger and go simmered pleasantly in his veins, except for that one pesky loophole: the ceremony had to be completed in the birthplace of the doppelgänger. From all accounts, that was Mystic Falls, VA. So here he was, blending in.

Was this how the average American youth wore their clothes, so ill-fitting? He hadn’t worn anything that hadn’t been tailored for him in the past several centuries that he hadn’t taken in desperation on the run from Mikael. It seemed rather ridiculous to complain of one’s trousers being too tight when your own father figure was trying to stake you through the heart.

Kol had managed it, both the too tight trousers and the complaining. Probably he should have spent the majority of the 80s daggered instead of doing enough cocaine to keep El Padrino in business, but his little brother’s terrible fashion decisions aside, he didn’t think they had ever stooped so low as to buy off the rack.

The jeans and t-shirt Klaus wore, along with the thin zip-up hoodie, and converse sneakers were designed to make him appear younger. Those, and the addition of a paint smeared backpack slung over one shoulder, seemed to be performing the desired result: before he’d compelled him, the deputy had asked Klaus if he was taking classes at Whitmore.

Which brought him back to the contents of the folder: the drowning deaths of Grayson and Miranda Gilbert, and the mysterious rescue of Elena Gilbert. It was clear the car accident was just that, an accident, but what flummoxed the good members of the Mystic Falls Police Department was how his Doppelgänger got out of that vehicle. Indeed, she had no memory of having done so.

Where in town, he mused to himself, would I locate the one person who could rip open a car door with their bare hands? Closing the folder, he slid it under a second folder, flipped it open to see a paper clipped photo of a square-faced young-looking man with green eyes and light brown hair. An odd little brush of memory hit him as the man laughed, an arm around his shoulders, the sound of jazz in his ears, blood and gin mingling in his throat. Blink, and it was just a photo again.

A shadow fell across the page. “Nik, I’m bored.”

#klaroline wip wed #klaroline #please enjoy sulky moody Klaus #in which Kiry writes Klaus POV and shakes like a wet chihuahua #It will be going back and forth for this fic so y'all will be getting both 'HE'S A SERIAL KILLER' and 'You got me i'm a serial killer'#It's 2am i don't have the energy for tags please just take this fic so i'm not cursed

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127tyong · 2 years ago

Text

Sticker

Pairing: Taeyong X Reader

Genre: Smut, Childhood Friends AU, Reader is in her 20s, Caught Masturbating (Taeyong)

Warnings: (This is so vanilla. Like, the most vanilla shit I've ever written. It's just sex y'all.)

Word Count: 3k

In your eyes, Taeyong was practically a baby. You grew up living in the same neighborhood as him, and would constantly go to his house after school. You always had a key to wherever he was living, even after you both entered the workforce and were adults, you would still go to his house and spend time with him, comforting each other.

You would never admit this, since Taeyong was such a nerd, but you always thought he was cute. After all, you spent your entire life with him, watching his highs and lows. Something about him made you giggle and your heart palpitate.

But today, after work, you went to his house, wanting to drink with him since you were stressed out, but he wasn’t home. Slipping off your heels, you massaged your feet through your stockings. Finally deciding to just go through his manga collection, you laid on his bed, and flipped through a random edition of “One Piece,” of which Taeyong owned the entire collection.

After about 30 minutes, you heard the front door click open, then lock shut as Taeyong returned home. “You’re here?” Taeyong asked from the living room after he saw your shoes by the door.

“Yeah!” You called back, not wanting to move from the warmth of his bed.

“Ugh, I'm so tired…” Taeyong mumbled as he walked through the door, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Taeyong’s eyes widened after he saw you on his bed. “What are you doing? You’re breaking the spine!” Taeyong ran to grab the book from you, but you pushed him away.

“God… you’re such a fucking nerd.” You scoffed as Taeyong practically got on his knees and whined, begging you to give him the manga back.

“Excuse me, I prefer the term “otaku”, thank you very much!” Taeyong rolled his eyes. “Now let go!” His face was resting on your stomach as he shook your arms.

You tossed the paperback book onto his bed. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Hey! That’s my precious Nami cover page!” Taeyong scurried to pick up the book and placed it back onto his bookshelf.

“You only like her because she has big boobs.” You scoffed.

“No, it’s not like that!” He sighed, joining you under the covers of his twin sized bed, his face uncomfortably close to yours. “Besides, she’s not even my ideal type.”

“Whatever you say.” Sighing, you pat Taeyong’s head. He always did need more comforting than anyone else you had ever been friends with. The whiny, clingy, version of Taeyong remained the same even after all these years.

Taeyong rubbed his face on the collar of your button up shirt, his arms tightening around your waist. “Am I hurting you?” And kind of, he was practically resting all of his body weight on your chest. He was way too comfortable with lying on your boobs as a grown man.

“Ugh, you should really buy a bigger bed, you have a huge bedroom just to fill it up with manga and figures. How are you planning on ever getting married?” You ran your hands through his hair, your fingernails scratching his head.

Taeyong sat up, getting off you. He slid his glasses back on and brushed his hair back into place. “Do you want to drink with me?”

Taeyong snorted, shifting to look you in the eye. “You really think I’ll get married?”

You pulled his glasses off and fluffed his hair up. “You know, you’d look really good if you actually wanted to…” Your hands slid down his cheeks, your palms cupping his jaw, feeling the sharp bone on your fingertips. Biting your lip, you really thought he looked good, even with his glasses on. He couldn't hide his pretty face behind thick glasses frames or a messy haircut, and you knew it.

Taeyong swallowed another shot, the bottle practically empty. He was sitting on his living room floor, a movie playing in the background.

“Tyong, don’t you think that's enough?” Sitting on the couch behind him, you only let yourself take a few sips of your drink, not letting your eyes leave Taeyong, worried he would do something stupid the moment you did.

He was always like this… Never able to feel how drunk or high he was until he was past the point of no return. You had many memories of him in college where he poured 4 shots of vodka into his Coke, saying it wasn’t even strong, then blacking out in the living room, passing out, waking up, and finally joining you in your bed.

“Come on, let's go to bed.” You helped him stand up, his arm around your shoulders.

You grabbed the bottle from him. “Yongie, that’s enough.”

“You’re no fun!” He whined, his head hitting your knee.

Taeyong whined, his voice almost grating. “No…! Stay and drink with me!”

You sighed, dragging Taeyong into his bedroom. “Fuck!” You stubbed your toe against his dresser. You dropped Taeyong, instinctively grabbing your toe. “Sorry! I’m sorry!” You looked down at Taeyong, who was too drunk to realize you had even dropped him, and you tossed him onto his bed. You unbuttoned his shirt for him, trying to get him comfortable so he could sleep.

“Do my pants.” He groaned, rubbing his eyes with his arm.

“No, I don’t really want to.” You sighed.

“Fine.” He went under his blanket and took his pants off himself.

“I’m going home.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to deal with drunk Taeyong anymore.

“No..!” He whined, sitting up. “Come here.”

How could you say no to that face? “Fine. Only until you sleep.” You took your bra and stockings off, then joined him.

You sat on the edge of his bed, tucking him into bed. “Good night, Taeyong.”

He grabbed onto your wrist before you could even stand up. “Just until I sleep?” He begged, pouting.

His hot breath was next to your face, and it was sick how naturally his arm wrapped around your waist. It was disgusting how Taeyong made your heart flutter, but he didn’t even think twice about you. You knew he only cared about two things, himself, and his manga collection. But even still, you let yourself imagine what it would’ve been like if Taeyong liked you back, so you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

“Shit. Fuck. What did I do?” You felt Taeyong sit up next to you, his arms ripping off your waist.

“What?” You asked groggily, rubbing your eyes to wake yourself up.

Taeyong ran out of bed, quickly grabbing some pants out of his closet. “Did we… uh…”

“What? No. You were drunk. Besides, I don’t think you could fuck me even if you were sober.” You pulled the covers up over your chest. “Can I steal some clothes? I have work in…” You grabbed your phone off the charger. “40 minutes.”

“Yeah, I think I have some of your clothes from the last time you slept over.” Taeyong looked in his dresser, tossing you one of your old shirts and skirts.

“Do you mind if I wear some of your boxers?” You hooked your bra back on, watching Taeyong go through his closet.

“I’m sorry?” Taeyong deeply exhaled.

“Well, it’s not like I can wear these panties for a 2nd day. Besides, you wash your underwear… right?” You buttoned your shirt up.

“Um…” Taeyong tossed a pair of black boxers at you. “I’m gonna shower… or something.” He left you in his room, waving his hand around.

You got dressed and made your way to his bathroom.

“What the fuck!” Taeyong screamed, his shower curtain blocking your view of him, but he stuck his head out.

“I just need to brush my hair and my teeth! You don’t mind if I use your toothbrush, right?” You started to comb your hair with his brush.

“I guess not? Just get out!” Taeyong retracted his head back into the shower.

You brushed your teeth. “You’re the best! I’m gonna head out after this!”

“Fuck, I forgot my phone.” You realized when you were already at work.

You decided to head back to Taeyong's house during your lunch break.

When you went inside, you tried to be as quiet as possible, so as to not scare any of his neighbors, but you assumed Taeyong was still at work.

When you went into Taeyong’s room, you were unprepared for what you saw.

“Fuck! What are you doing Taeyong?” You hissed at him.

He was laying on his bed, cock in his hand, cum dripping all over his abs and fingers. And in his other hand were your panties, pressed against his face like a pervert. Whiny moans, moaning your name escaped his mouth.

“I- I’m sorry!” Taeyong jumped up, trying to walk towards you.

You instinctively backed up, not knowing what to say. If he was a teenage boy, you could make an excuse for him, saying he’s just a kid… But he’s nearly 30, and you know he wasn’t even a virgin, since you both lost your virginity in high school. You really didn’t think he even masturbated while thinking about actual girls, assuming he just watched hentai. And you certainly didn’t think he masturbated while thinking about you.

So, you mumbled the only thing you could really think at that point. “You’re gonna get cum on me.”

Taeyong sighed and slid some pants on and went into the bathroom to wash his hands.

You grabbed your phone off the floor and nearly ran out of his house.

“Wait!” Taeyong called after you.

You waved him off, not even wanting to make eye contact with him.“Taeyong, I really don’t wanna talk to you-”

He grabbed your shoulder, stopping you.

“Tae-” You sighed, your hand already on the doorknob, ready to leave.

His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in a back hug. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “You know that right?”

“I have to go to work.” You sighed, sliding your phone into your jacket pocket.

“I’m really sorry, I promise I am, I promise I will never do that again…” You felt tears on your neck, and the water on Taeyong’s hands made your stomach cold.

He was so pathetic, like a little baby begging his mommy for forgiveness after breaking a vase.

You turned around and kissed the tears off his cheeks, petting his head, soothing him. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

That was a lie. A ball of anger, frustration, and nerves started filling your throat. You tried to swallow it down, but it didn’t let you. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you forced yourself to face Taeyong and hug him.

“I’m sorry…” He whined, holding onto your waist.

“I know, but you understand that was hard for me to walk in on, right?” You tried to pull away from the hug, but his grip didn’t loosen. His boner kept poking you, rubbing against your stomach. You wondered how he could be hard in this situation, in front of you after you saw that… Your cheeks flushed, not knowing how to handle the thought of Taeyong fucking you, his moans so raw and pathetic, his head thrown back. “Taeyong, let go, I have to go back to work…”

“No.” He whined into your ear.

You sighed, pulling out your phone and texting your boss something urgent came up at home and you wouldn’t be able to come back, which was only a half lie. “Fine…”

“You know I love you, right?” Taeyong kissed your neck, tickling you. He pushed you against the front door, pinning you there. You silently wondered when he’d let you go, his hands falling down your back and onto your hips, his chin still resting on your shoulder.

“Of course, I love you too.” You pat his back, wishing he’d get off you.

“Would you… suck me off?” Taeyong finally let go of you, taking half a step back.

“What? Taeyong, I think you’ve just been single too long…” You shook your head, forcing it to clear of any impure thoughts, any hope, any expectations.

Taeyong’s thumb glazed over your lips, his fingers gently brushing over your neck, making you look up into his eyes. Eyes that lost their innocent, child-like look, and that have turned dark, lustful. Lustful for you. “Don’t you want me?”

“Taeyong, let's stop this already…” You mumbled through Taeyong’s thumb.

Taeyong’s lips made contact with your neck, licking its most sensitive spot. “I don’t think you really want to.” He was gentle, sweetly sucking, making you press your head back, your back arching.

A whiny voice escaped your throat, a voice you never knew you could make. You clutched onto Taeyong’s waist, your fingers digging into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling him towards you.

You felt Taeyong’s lips curl into a smirk on your neck. His hands swept down to your shirt collar, unbuttoning your shirt, then sliding towards your back to unhook your bra. His hands explored your body, a body he’s touched multiple times, yet he’s touching you as if it was his first. Squeezing your breasts in his hands, then immediately going under your skirt, rubbing your clit through his boxers.

“Can’t believe you’re wearing my boxers… Fucking hell.” Taeyong gritted his teeth, pushing your shoulders down, forcing you on the floor.

You slid his sweatpants down, his cock slapping his stomach before hitting your lips. Licking the cum off his dick, you let yourself swallow everything, looking up at Taeyong. Kissing the tip of his cock, you gently edged him, licking, kissing, but not actually sucking it.

Taeyong laughed to himself, biting his lip. “Fuck… the girl I was just masturbating to is on her knees in front of me…” His pretty moans kept you going, cockhead nearly turning purple from being teased from your kisses. “Ugh, hurry up, please…” He groaned, words stretched out from throwing his neck back.

“Why should I?” You spoke, his dick still on your lips, causing the soundwaves of your voice to vibrate against him. “You’ve been nothing but mean to me today, so why should I?”

“You’re too fucking mean… Watched me humiliate myself and still won’t help me…” Taeyong’s hands reached the back of your head, fingers interlaced into your hair. “I’ll do it myself then.”

Your lips parted on their own, throbbing cock sliding into your mouth. He started gentle, not wanting to hurt you, but he gradually let himself go, thrusting harder down into your throat, hitting the back. Choking on it caused your eyes to start tearing up, the sloppy sound of your saliva echoing in his living room. You slapped on his thighs, trying to get him to stop, his grip on your hair just tightening. Taeyong thrusted thrice, before pulling out and squirting his cum on your lips and cheeks.

You coughed a bit, stroking your throat to help the feeling of an abused throat go away. “Taeyong! What the fuck?”

“You look cute when you’re covered in my cum.” Taeyong went into the kitchen then tossed you a towel.

Wiping your face off, you lazily stood up, going back into Taeyong’s bedroom, tossing yourself onto his bed, Taeyong following. “I was right.”

“I’m gonna fuck the source of my horny dreams.” Taeyong mumbled, biting his lip.

“About what?” Taeyong watched you undress yourself, tossing your clothes on the floor.

“It’s going to be hard to have sex on a twin sized bed, you should’ve bought a king, or queen at least…” You pulled down the boxers you were wearing, sliding onto your hands and knees. “Are you ready?”

He hurriedly slid his length inside you, plunging in. Hands grabbed around your waist, forcing you up, pressing his body into yours, lips nibbling at your neck and ear. Taeyong’s long, longer and harder than a man who’s came a thousand times already should be. Fucking you like a virgin, like he’s never fucked a girl before, whiny, pathetic, moaning your name into your ear, ragged, unpredictable thrusts, hurting your core. His hands made their way down to your clit, rubbing circles into it. “Do you feel good?” He asked between heavy breaths, the heat of his gasps for air on your neck. He felt like his dick would melt inside you, sucking him in, so warm. He swore he could feel your heartbeat while he was inside you, your legs shaking and vibrating from how aroused you were.

It was nearly idiotic of him to even ask, your cries louder than his moans, feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed. He was too much, doing everything he could to make you climax all at once. “Fuck! Yes!” You screamed at him, about to cry from how good you felt all at once. It was almost sickening how even while having sex with you, he still wanted to make sure you felt good, and how he didn’t even realize how much you liked it…

“So much better than I ever dreamed of.” Taeyong’s fingers are covered in your juices, making him lick them. “Taste even better.” Your neck was bitten up, hickeys that wouldn’t go away for weeks, and trailed down to your shoulder.

You wondered if Taeyong felt the same way about you… If he loved you the way you loved him, if you were the last thought he had before he went to bed, and the first in the morning… Wanton moans in your ear made your fears subside, figuring he could only act like this because he loves you. He was so romantic, even if he didn’t realize it. Constantly reminding you how good you feel around his cock, how pretty you are… Everything about Taeyong made you dizzy.

“Taeyong, I’m gonna…” Your head fell forward, toes curling, whining for him.

“Me too, cum with me…” Taeyong’s fingers returned to your clit, trying to make you climax.

“Taeyong, Taeyong… Taeyong!” You moaned his name out as you reached your climax.

“I love you! I love you so much…” He screamed as he came into your womb, thick ropes of white cum filling you up. He dropped you, making you plop onto the bed.

You backed up, sitting on his bed. “I, um, should take a shower… and eat lunch…” You clutched on your stomach, womb abused.

Taeyong hummed. “Say it back.” He cupped your cheek, wiping your tears.

“Say what?” Your back hit the wall as you sat.

“Tell me you love me.” Taeyong started kissing you, looking at you with those big, innocent, brown eyes. Looking at you as if your neck wasn’t covered in his bite marks, as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out.

“You know I love you.” You kissed him back, arms wrapping around his neck. “I love you.”

He pushed you, making you lay back down. “Good.” He lined his cock back up to your pussy lips. “Then I’ll fuck you some more, alright?”

“Ugh… Only if you buy a bigger bed tomorrow, and get your manga collection out of the bedroom.” You pressed a hand against his cheek, pouting.

“Only if you marry me.”

#nct fanfic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 smut #taeyong smut #95 line smut

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sundaybossanova · 9 months ago

Text

Witch's Love Chapter 2

Paring: San x OC

AU: Fantasy

Word count: 1,5k

Summery: It was a normal day for Sera, brewing potions, visiting the market and trying not to blow her cover but a sudden uninvited guest changes everything. Lying on her doorstep is a young man on the brink of death and she has no idea what she's gotten into after saving his life.

The sun has nearly completely risen and shines brightly on the two occupants of the house. Silence filled the room, occasionally interrupted by the sound of cutlery and quiet humming. San felt like he hadn't eaten in forever and devoured his food in record time while Sera tried to hide her amusement. “Do you want more?” a small smile graced her lips while standing up and taking his plate without waiting for a response. She returned quickly with a now full plate and placed it in front of an astonished San. “Thank you so much, I really don't know how to repay you for everything that you've done for me” he said, his eyes showing nothing but gratitude while he held her gace. Overwhelmed by the honesty in his words she diverted her eyes and busied herself with cleaning the table. Never had someone looked at her so thankful without being scared, the villagers would say their words of gratitude but often with no true meaning behind them. Most of her life she lived alone and only had short contact with others therefore the presence of San felt so overwhelming. Also she had to admit that he was quite handsome , from his chiseled jaw line to his cat like eyes, never had she come across somebody as attractive as him. Shaking her head she tried to get rid of these thoughts not wanting to get distracted even more as she already was.

“I have to finish some potions today, you should go back to bed and rest more for your wounds to heal” Sera didn't want to waste any more time, still having orders to finish as well as making a new ointment for her surprise guest. San looked lost. “I am not tired and I feel much better, can't I help you somehow?” He tried to convince her with a pouty lip and puppy eyes which in the end worked. “Okay, sit down and read me the ingredients” with her mind already elsewhere she pointed at an old chair in her little workspace and shoved a book in his hands.

Rummaging through drawers and shelves she searched for all her tools “What is the first ingredient, the page is marked with a dried flower” Sans fingers quickly flicked through the book searching for the said page. “Found it, the first thing you need are rosemary seeds” he recites the rest of the list with her working quickly on finding the right things. Both of them fall into a comfortable rhythm as they work together. Time flies by and the witch has finished her potion with the occasional questions from San about what exactly she is doing and what effects the different ingredients have. It was nice having someone being interested in your work, showing genuine curiosity about the process and being open to just listening to her ranting on about something she cares so deeply about.

“I’m sorry for taking so long, I will cook lunch right away” after a quick glance outside she corrected sheepishly “well I guess it's dinner instead”. Hurriedly she rushed into the kitchen already getting immersed in her work. San just smiled, the feeling of belonging reappearing making him shake his head a little. Reminding himself to not get used to these feelings he follows her into the kitchen like a lost puppy. “Where is your pet, I haven't seen him since this morning?" It was his way of starting a new conversation and getting to know her better. “Oh Bram is probably out in the woods or the village he won't be gone for too long. He will probably return by tomorrow. It's a way for him to relax but also find new customers and information” her answer was kept short as she cut their dinner ingredients carefully.

Yet again both of them fell into a rhythm with each of them working simultaneously. The comforting silence was only broken when San asked her a question about the whereabouts of certain things that he needed to set the table. At dinner Sera asked about his brothers, wanting to know more about life with a group of people instead of solitude. “Wait so Wooyoung tried to take the ring off of the sleeping king's hand? What if he would have woken?" her voice got higher at the end not being able to contain her shock and disbelief at the young man's actions. “He doesn't care about that, he's way too reckless most of the time but the ring was worth a fortune and we could feed a village nearby for nearly half a year with it.” his smile grew with each word and memory that he shared and it was contagious to say the least. Sera was jealous of his connection and relationship to others, she never knew she craved for something like this until San showed her how life could be.

Hours passed with more stories of the brothers and their adventures yet Sera’s curiosity wasn't satisfied. With each question she dived deeper into the lives of Sans family that she wished was her own. Each time he would ask her questions about her own family or past yet her responses would be short and simple, to her there wasn't anything worth telling.

“If you want I can prepare a bath for you, it would be good to clean yourself a little, tomorrow you should be able to go home.” San couldn't help but feel a bit of disappointment; he didn't want to leave, enjoying their conversations, her calming presence and the feeling of belonging that he only gets when being with his brothers.

Sera might have seen San shirtless before but it was under completely different circumstances, before he was hurt and she needed to act fast to help but right now she can't help but stare at his back. His shoulders were broad, all the muscles defined and his bronze skin only highlighted them more. “Is the wound looking better?” his voice brought her out of her thoughts, not realizing how long she has been ogling at his back. “Oh yes it looks way better, I’ll leave you to your bath, just call if you need anything.” she tried to contain the nerves not wanting to show how much his half naked presence affected her. Before she could leave the little bathroom San turned around, his chest and abs on full display, smiling at her. “Thank you again, I will try to finish quickly” Her face turned red, the tip of her ears burning as she turned around trying to calm her racing heart. “No problem, but I should really leave now, get in before it gets cold and take as long as you like” her words were rushed as she hurried outside. San on the other hand was grinning to himself satisfied with the effect he has on her.

By the time the next morning arrived Sera had calmed down, forcing the image of the half naked boy out of her brain. She prepared breakfast for the two of them and packed an extra portion with some fruits into a bag for his journey back. Sadness was creeping up on her, the thought of San leaving not feeling right. Still the young witch tried to move on and went up the stairs to wake her guest.

“Wake up sleepyhead, breakfast is finished!” she was knocking lightly on the door but to her surprise it opened right away with a smirking San on the other side. “Sounds great I am starving” and with that both of them went downstairs to share their last breakfast together.

“I packed some fruits, I hope you like them if not it's okay just give them to someone else or throw them away” the girl was fiddling with her fingers continuing her rant “Also there is the ointment I used for your wounds in there, get one of your brothers to apply it twice a day for your wounds to heal as quickly as possible.” Her mind was racing, trying to think of everything she wanted to tell him and subconsciously extending their time together.

San sensed her nervousness and put one of his strong hands on her shoulder. “Thank you” these two words made her stop rambling and finally look at him. Sera’s eyes were fixed on his chocolate brown ones that felt like they held the world in them. “I don't know how to repay you for your kindness. I will forever be in your debt.” His voice full of sincerity and the smile on his lips made her feel small butterflies in her stomach.

“It's nothing, just promise me to take care of yourself and don't get yourself hurt like this ever again” the girl's words were stern, yet her eyes showed how much she cared for him. “I will try but I can't promise anything my little witch.” and with one last smile he started walking into the woods, leaving the comfort of the little cottage.

“San wait!” she shouted before thinking about her words. His body turned around quicker than she had expected, eyes filled with curiosity. “Will I see you again?” the question sounded unsure, she feared he doesn't want to see her again. “Of course, you won't get rid of me that easily” His eyes formed into crescent moons, smiling from ear to ear as he waved one last time and went on his way. Unbeknownst to the other, both of their ears were turning red unable to contain the overwhelming feelings.

For the rest of the day Sera tried to keep herself distracted by brewing a new potion as well as cleaning her home until no dust or dirt were to be found. The evening came faster than she had expected and yet her thoughts only circled around San and his safety. “I hope he is home already, or maybe he found a shelter for the night. Did I let him go too early? Oh god what if his wounds open up again?” her mind was racing with all these questions.

The young witch was too distracted to notice the front door opening only when she heard a loud thud did she lift her head. “Bram, is that you? I think I made a mistake. I shouldn't have let him - she couldn't even finish her sentence before a clothed hand covered her mouth. With all her strength she tried to escape but the stranger held her body against his and slowly she could feel her eyes feeling heavy. “Sleep tight you little bitch” were the last words she heard before her eyes shut and her world became dark.

🖤 here's chapter two with a little cliffhanger 🖤

border by @cafekitsune

#ateez #ateez au #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez fantasy au #san x oc #san choi #ateez san

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desiresiwant · 1 month ago

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𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 5.3k~

warnings: mentions of war, name-calling, vulgar paintings, strong vulgar language, Targaryen/Dornish mixed bastard, mentions of sexual themes, and overall mature setting for mature (18+) audience.

a/n: this is the 5th chapter of my AU HOTD longfic featuring my Black!OC, and the last chapter of this fic that’s posted here. If these previews interested you enough, be sure to check out the masterlist on where to read the rest!!! Hope I’ve gotten your attention by now. If there’s a warning I forgot to add let me know.

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𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗙𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗢𝗳 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁

𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑫𝑶𝑴 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑰𝑻𝑺 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑻𝑯 𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑲𝑬𝑬𝑷, and Sylvia grew hatred toward her constant studies with Maester Ollins reading massive leather-bound books, thick with extensive history behind the legendary House Targaryen and their ties to Valyria—including hundreds of houses within Westeros and political relations with and against the crown or with each other.

Reciting words never used in her vocabulary would lock Sylvia’s jaw and copying pages upon pages with shitty handwriting and barely any practice back home with her own mother, would tire her wrists out and left her fingers cramped. Her mother was far advanced in both reading and writing, taught later in life after Sylvia’s birth, but her teachings weren’t consistent. She could only practice reading after every written word her mother wrote for her father to one day read given her popular status in the house. Writing was rare and Sylvia hated it.

And once freed of Maester Ollins, left hours in Meya’s care as she taught Sylvia the ways of a proper lady of the court. The study of etiquette involved far more than walking in pretty dresses and keeping one’s mouth clean of cake crumbs. Curtsy when in the company of new peers and those of higher political status. Never address them by name but by title unless given permission or were under Sylvia’s status, such as Meya and many others. Head up, back straight, chest out, arms locked in front, and walk with grace as though she levitated. Not with a boyish posture, as Meya described. She was determined to cleanse the boyish nature from molding her bones. Never say too much. Never say too little. Then would clutter the table with various utensils to use and label.

You must act as though even the Gods are watching you, Meya would say, because being a lady isn’t just a privilege of improvement and betterment, but an example to the people—lower-classed women and the poor who’d do anything to be where you are, and has convinced themselves that if they do what you do, they will one day stare behind your eyes.

Sylvia didn’t think being a lady would be challenging and she was wrong.

She grew delirious and starved of her freedom. She missed home and drunk travellers, and ex-lovers—still friends—laughing over countless fools. She missed her splinter-prone bow and running off to the woods with Yanis to hunt. She missed her loose-fitting clothing and the effortless movement it provided. She missed being outside. Free instead of being cooped up within the same walls for hours.

She thought more freedom came with holding her father’s name, but freedom never tasted sweeter than it did back home. And perhaps, she didn’t know the extent of her freedom in King’s Landing because she was afraid that if she stepped out of line, King Aul would take back his word and ban her from the city.

But enough was enough.

She walked out in the middle of Maester Ollins’ dreadful monologues in need of a break. A walk to clear her mind and explore the majestic castle. And a strange shriek and heaviness in the air that interrupted her lessons many times.

Sight of a massive erotic mural of the same and opposite sex engaging in sexual activities with each other and a dragon came into view. Sylvia cocked her head as she inspected the art. “This is interesting. . ." She said. "And new."

Meya reached her lady’s side and viewed the mural, a light tint in her cheeks almost the same color as her hair. “Very, my lady. These murals of different acts are scattered along the castle walls. You will see them quite often.” She said.

“I assumed they were traditional. Modest."

“It prevails by day but is another story behind the curtains. House Targaryen are quite accustomed to queer customs and often aren’t shameful or demeaning toward expressing sexuality. Much like Dorne though quite different and forced behind closed doors.” Explained Meya, lowering her voice as a few castle staff passed by. “Your father once used to host parties of such acts.”

“Without the dragons, yes?”

Meya laughed at her highly concerned expression. “Of course. So I’ve heard, they were extravagant and would last for days that men would leave their wives to attend and gifted their most prized possession for an invite.”

Sylvia's brow lifted with surprise. Beyond hearing of her father's ruthless personality, it was the first she heard of his life when he lived outside of her mother’s stories. And she wanted to know more. "What more have you heard about my father?" She asked.

“I began my work here after his passing, my lady, so I fear my words aren’t recent or credible.”

“I’d still like to know.”

“I heard he cut the tongue of a man who slandered his house in public as an example for his filthy mouth. Then flaunted his tongue around his neck as a necklace, rotted with flies. Before his marriage to Lady Vana, while courting her, he asked her to give him a name. Any name. The name of any who caused her heart to squeeze with stress whenever they were within her presence, so she did. And on their wedding day, he delivered her uncle’s heart on a silver platter to wipe her heart clean and transfer that stress onto his.” Meya continued. “He always made such a presence that no one dared speak unless spoken to. One might even lose their eyes if they're met. He was quite intimidating and twisted."

“He was a prince. I imagined he’d have to be. If one steps out of line, it's one's job to push them back or others will follow behind." Words taken out of Yanis' mouth filled hers with ease.

They spun to the cheering formed within the training pit around two men fighting. At the center, Prince Viseron pointed his steel sword, taunting his sworn protector always a few steps behind his shadow with half of his wooden shield missing.

Having the best view above, Sylvia leaned against the rail, watching impressively. He was quite skilled and his movements were fast, just as good as Yanis. Maybe even better. Her eyes overlooked his skills and traveled below to the sweat glistening his bare chest and highlighted muscles that were hidden beneath his clothing the first they’d met. Only trousers and boots were worn during the fight, leaving nothing to imagine, but oddly, left her curious to see more while it’s shown.

“And what of him?” Sylvia’s lip tugged between her teeth without her knowledge, studying the prince who once tried to get her naked. He hadn’t tried since then not that she’s had time for him. “What stories you’ve heard?”

“I dare not say anything, my lady. I’d like to keep my head another thirty years.”

“Oh, come on. Your words are safe with me. Who would I tell? My piss pot?” Still quiet, Sylvia rolled her eyes as she reminded, “I wasn’t giving you a choice. I want to know about this prince.”

Meya was hesitant for good reason, but given the vast differences between their status, she had no choice but to obey. “Some believe he was born from the wrong father.”

“Why so?”

“Because he takes after his uncle, Prince Daemon. Their fury burns strong. There are far too many stories to share and talking about him makes me shiver. But one thing is certain, he’s betrothed to Julie Lannister.”

Standing off the side near her attendant was Julie Lannister. Long golden strands with multiple braids hung in loops and intertwined delicately down her back, emerald green eyes fearful of her betrothed’s safety. She was not only quite young—around six-and-ten (16) possibly—but beautiful too. Her black dress with a crimson outline shaped her womanly frame well, some could easily believe she was older than she appeared.

“Such a fragile thing paired with a ruthless prince who doesn’t give a damn whether she lives or not. Tis probably why he's held off the marriage for so long. About—three months I believe. Although war and house relations has preoccupied the prince's time." Meya informed and Sylvia appreciated the information. It did come as a surprise to her. She hadn’t heard a thing about this girl and the Prince didn’t present himself as a man set to marry—if there was a certain way a man should act.

It’s not uncommon for a prince or anyone of higher status to already be betrothed as it was to become her faith too. On the outside, they looked well-suited, but if their wedding had been halted then perhaps something was happening on the inside that no one knew. Answers Sylvia was curious about.

The crowd displayed Prince Viseron’s victory by clapping their hands with glee. Lady Julie rushed to her betrothed with words of praise but he shared his win with his component and sworn protector, Sir John—Sylvia finally remembered when she was tested to name everyone within her house and their titles while walking backward and bumped into him. He apologized first though it was her fault, his voice gruffy and deep. Lady Julie was ignored completely and stood aside as she patiently waited to be included.

As though Sylvia’s presence was felt above, his head lifted and met her stalking gaze. She pulled back from the ledge but it was too late to pretend otherwise and grabbed her dress to dip her knees in a cursty. Like a proper lady who hadn’t been spanked on the palm of her hand with a stick or straightened until her back ached and thighs burned, and all the boyish nature had washed out of her. Most of it.

He’s impressed by her growth, his lips pulling into a half grin with approval. Then dipped his head to greet her.

Sylvia lifted and couldn’t hide the gushing feeling of pride forming in the pit. She’s worked hard perfecting herself that some acknowledgment would be nice. Expected even. She greeted Lady Julie as well when following the Prince’s attention, only she didn’t return the gesture. Her bottom lip turned pink from how hard she chewed, looking at him and then back to her before lending a stiff smile.

Meya touched her lady's arm lightly. "We have spent much time walking these halls I'm afraid Maester Ollins might assume you've abandoned him and your studies. We should return."

The Prince took his leave. Lady Julie followed after.

"That's because I have abandoned my studies," Sylvia admitted. "Maester Ollins is an old fuck who never keeps his eyes on the books—“

Meya gasped. “You must mind your words, my lady. Such foul language is unacceptable for a lady.”

Sylvia ignored her and kept speaking. “He speaks in one note, for a very long time, and isn't patient with me when I'm doing my best. What more does he want from me?”

"We can request another, but you mustn't put off your studies. You made the King a—"

Sylvia walked away from her attendant. She headed in the direction of the Great Room so she could continue her studies and force herself awake whenever Maester Ollins spoke. She knew very well of the promise made with the King and hated when Meya reminded her at every given second.

“There she is!”

Sylvia’s steps halted toward four noble women—judging by their pretty dresses and well-kept hair—rushing in her direction like children at the Sand Festival held every year back in Toland. Silly betting games where men would run bare-footed and nearly naked across the hot sand for three days for life-changing coins and honor, suffering nasty blisters, dehydration, and even death. There were also cake-eating contests. But inside was filled with poisonous sand scorpions, eating until one ultimately died or was saved in enough time. There’d be endless music and hard syrup candies for the children. Joy all around, joy that Sylvia was forced to experience from afar.

Sylvia glanced over her shoulder to pinpoint their attention but there was no one behind them. No one of importance unless they were signaling a passing servant or patrolling guards. But as they neared it was clear she was their pinpoint. A bunch of strangers. Rather close by how they clung to each other.

Meya greeted the noble women and Sylvia followed in pursuit. “My lady, this is—”

“I shall introduce myself,” a blond-headed woman with loose curls down her back and wide sharp eyes dismissed Meya as she stepped forward from the group. She bent her knees into a proper curtsy and lifted herself, her eyes glazing upon Sylvia’s scales with mere interest. “I am Lady Clarice Hayford, Daughter of Lord Benjamin, House Hayford of Crownlands. This is Lady Mercia Rosby, House Rosby of Crownlands. Lady Anya Buckwell, House Buckwell of Crownlands. And Lady Emma Wode, House Wode of Riverlands.” The last house was said in a mumble but had caught on learning briefly of the Riverlands. Of all their houses that were loyal to the crown.

Each lady kneeled into a cursty. And as Sylvia met each woman as they rose, her gaze fell upon Lady Mercia, if she remembered correctly. Golden brown skin, shades darker than sand on its brightest day, with thick brownish red curls too wild to tame but were a looser patterning than the mess on Sylvia’s head—pinned from her narrow face with dangling ornaments, dressed in the colors of the leading house.

Pretty, Sylvia thought to herself, she’s very pretty. They each had their own charm, whatever it was, but Lady Mercia stuck out.

Another, Lady Anya, stepped forward. “We are very pleased to make your acquaintance. We’ve already heard so much about you.” She was very soft-spoken, light and airy like a whistle in the wind. Wide-eyed with ghostly white skin and hair as black as night. It didn’t help that her eyebrows were nearly invisible, so she appeared sickly.

“What have you heard?” Sylvia inquired, wanting to know what had been said about her.

Lady Anya exchanged a look with the other ladies and Sylvia could’ve sworn one had shook their head, as if to refrain her from speaking the truth. Their smiles were wide and bright and clean of evidence when she tried to confirm the gesture. “Just silly chatting. You know how it is in court.” She didn’t. Not one bit of it. “When someone new comes around, everyone is so eager to know everything about them. Few are convinced they’ve known them their whole lives. But with you here, in our circle, I believe we’ll be great friends. The bestest.”

“My God, Anya, we are not that desperate. Be calm.” Said Lady Clarice, tugging the girl back who sent a soft glare.

“It was your idea. You wished to confirm if the King had lost his mind bestowing a b—.”

The woman hissed in a manner that shut Lady Anya up. She lowered her head with a pout and stepped even futher back upon the lady’s gesture.

Then chuckled with nerves, ironing out the creases of her dress that shaped her figure. Her manipulated curls played the illusion that her hair was voluminous, but the knitted hair piece pushing everything back showcased otherwise. “You misheard me. I would never speak ill of anyone or question one’s decision, especially the King’s.” Said through clenched teeth, still smiling.

“Liar.” The girl mumbled loud enough to be heard.

“Your scales,” Lady Mercia blurted and she had Sylvia’s attention almost immediately. “They are real, are they not? I have never seen anything like it before."

Before she could speak up, Lady Emma interrupted her. “Of course, they’re real. Why wouldn’t it not be? She has dragon blood in her veins. Only with their blood is it possible."

It’s said the women from Riverlands were all too ugly to look at and lacked feminine hygiene and beauty, as the writings said. Swamplands and ruins from war. Emma Wode was the only beautiful daughter her mother bore; a head of brunette strands down her back, pepper green eyes, and a curvy figure to look past her flat face. A beautiful girl like her should be seen, an end to vile rumors of their house and Riverland women.

Sylvia stood before Lady Mercia, leaning slightly forward. “Would you like to touch them?” She offered and her eyes brightened with excitement mixed with surprise.

“Could I? Is it not rude?”

“Not if I’m offering.”

Lady Mercia reached out her hand and touched the scales along Sylvia’s cheek. Her touch was hesitant at first before she grew comfortable, gentle as her soft fingers outlined its trail. It was true that no one aside from Yanis and her mother had touched her scales, but there were rare occasions when Sylvia would allow a few selectives to explore her face. In exchange, she could explore them.

She wasn’t expecting the same deal with Lady Mercia. Not yet at least.

“They’re beautiful,” Lady Mercia whispered, shying away from Sylvia’s intensive contact appreciating her beauty at a closer range. She liked the greenish mixture in her brown eyes. Realizing how close they were, she pulled back her hand with an apology.

“Can I touch too? I’m curious.” Lady Anya raised her hand.

“Me as well.” Said Lady Emma.

It wasn’t until Lady Clarice cleared her throat that the rest stopped pestering Sylvia and followed back in line. Clearly, she held reign within the circle, leaving the question of just how powerful her house was. And much of it she didn’t wish to lose to a bastard. “You will have to excuse their excitement. Young new faces are rare to come by. While some lack discipline, they also lack personal space.”

Many didn’t react lightly to being put down for something they couldn’t control. They were all around Sylvia’s age and younger. Full of energy and light. Trying to make the most of their life before they were no longer a girl but a married woman with duties to their husband and house. She didn’t mind their lack of discipline or personal space, or even their constant questioning. She was new to court, to their world. It’s to be expected.

But what she didn’t like was someone putting down others to make themselves look good. “And what do you lack?” Sylvia asked Lady Clarice. “No one is perfect, not even me. I’m curious if you lack discipline too. A mouth that just keeps talking.”

Her mouth twitched and her eyes seemed touched with irritation as she narrowed in on the lady who dared to question her. But then the moment passed, all traces of anger left, and she offered her a stiffened smile.

Her lips parted with an answer prepared, but Sylvia realized she didn’t care and spoke over her with more questions to ask. “What brings you ladies to me? Whatever it is it’ll have to wait another time. My studies call to me and Master Ollins doesn’t seem like a patient man to be kept waiting.” . . .studies she would do anything to get out of with a teacher she was close to hating, but it was her promise to the King. While she prepared herself for marriage, he would provide whatever was necessary so she could learn of the house who’ve stolen her features.

Lady Anya jumped off her feet toward Sylvia, taking her arm to lock tight. It was the kind of strength that felt the girl was scared she’d run off, and she would if given the chance. The action was sudden. “Then we shall walk you to your destination and chat. We know the way. Maester Ollins won’t say a thing with us by your side.”

“Ah. . .okay.” Sylvia managed to say.

Lady Emma occupied the other arm, the other ladies at their side, dragging Sylvia forward as if she were a rag-doll with weak stringy legs, vulnerable to even the mildest of control. Meya remained a few steps behind with no means to interject. She looked content with her lady with others than just her putting up with Sylvia, a break from bending and molding her bones and attitude into a proper lady. Lessons that still needed time to sink into her bones. And apparently, her brain.

Multiple conversations were had and many questions were left unanswered due to lack of time to answer them before the next question was thrown out. It seemed Sylvia was learning more about them than they did about her. She preferred it that way. Her life was nothing of interest compared to highborn ladies who’ve seen more of the world than she had. Their hands were untouched by hash labor, smooth to the eye, their nails long and perfectly round. No scent of piss, puke, and sex lingered from their skin but the sweet aroma of lavender and. . .berries? There was not one strand out of place—thoroughly washed and brushed with limited knots and tangles, carefully curled with overnight remedies and styled to utter perfection. Not even the wind could displace their attendant's hard work.

Even their stories were untouched by the cruelty of the world and filled with mindless pettiness, harmless pranks, and endless fun, surrounded by riches and an arm's length of friends. They were perfect. All of which Sylvia lacked and couldn’t help the jealousy pitting deep in her belly.

A reminder that two worlds stood before them despite their feet walking the same land.

“We remain at court while our fathers and many noble lords have been called to discuss trivial matters that have disarrayed our house and its people.” Said Lady Merica as they directed Sylvia down the wide-set stairs and through the long halls that were endless and beaming from the sun burning through. She had no idea what the subject was but went along with it.

“I came to visit my brother. He’s recently joined the Knighthood. My father thinks it will strengthen his heart and bring forth honor.” Said Lady Anya.

Lady Emma tugged on Sylvia’s arm, pulling her closer from Lady Anya’s previous tactic to have the girl to herself. A constant game that forced Sylvia to break free. It surely didn’t stop them coming back.

“But that isn’t all, is it?” Lady Merica sent a mischief look in her friend’s direction and it was the first her face had color, warming up as she refused to admit her true intentions.

Sylvia was very much lost. “What am I missing?”

“She has eyes for Prince Aelor.” Lady Clarice unveiled and Sylvia scrunched her nose with disgust. She wished she hadn’t asked.

The girl gasped out with shock. “I do not!”

“Do too.” Lady Emma teased. “The biggest crush. He is all you ever talk about. His kind eyes. His long legs. His calming nature. His beautiful hair.”

Kind eyes? Calming nature? What version was she seeing?

She unlocked their arms to cover her ears as she shouted. “I will not hear of this—this slander! And neither will either of you speak another word of my affections—should I have any—or else I’ll scream my lungs bloody and never stop until the sky roof caves in, crushing you whole.”

“Why not save your screaming on your wedding night? You’ve practiced long enough.”

A squeal of giggles bellowed from Lady Mercia as she took off running when Lady Anya chased after her. They laughed at the two using passing servants to block each other’s contact. Lady Mercia seemed like a shy woman at first but she was far from it, at least around her friends. There were occasions when she’d speak less that was practically invisible, and occasions when she’d make herself known and make use of it. A balance of both.

Sylvia certainly didn’t see what Lady Anya saw in the Prince and was convinced the girl got hit in the head by an apple or something heavy. They wouldn’t be House of The Dragon together but House of The Ghost. Uncanny and unsuited.

Finally having Sylvia to herself, Lady Emma tugged her closer and Lady Clarice was quick to fill the empty spot. Their constant attention and closeness made her uncomfortable for reasons that she wasn’t used to. “My father claims it’s to spare our ships and men to prepare for the war up ahead. Only the best shall prevail.” She was back on the conversation of their reasoning for being at court.

“Except we need strong men and strong ships that won’t flood the first wave it's met.” Said Lady Clarice, in a tone that held a known story close to Lady Emma which she ignored.

“But while at court, we accompany the future Queen to strengthen our relations that’ll benefit our future and make our house proud.”

“Future Queen,” muttered Lady Clarice with a sense of mock. “Whenever that will be. It's embarrassing enough having to listen to her delusions and pretend to care. There is only so much advise one can give before it’s time to return home.”

Their shared laughter made known they knew of Lady Julie’s current predicament with Prince Viseron. Neither Sylvia nor Lady Mercia—when returning after the two grew tired and heavy with breath—found the situation humorous. She didn’t know the girl enough to find the joke and feared she’d contract her faith by downing her misfortune.

But Sylvia couldn’t move on from their current topic deciding which games they should indulge in before supper when something Lady Emma had mentioned weighed on her mind. War.

War was nothing new to her. Horrid stories roamed the fires back at Toland from men and former knights drinking away their trauma to any ears that would listen and even she had her first taste of it. But what concerned Sylvia was where this war was taking place and who was the intended enemy. She came to King’s Landing to create a future and safe home for her mother when she came, and couldn’t do any of that if her future was at risk. Based on many blurred lessons of war around the world with Maester Ollins, King’s Landing wasn’t all that invincible given the history of why the wall was built in the first place.

“Will it be here? The war that's to come?” Sylvia asked.

They grew quiet, having silent conversations with their eyes that Sylvia couldn’t understand. But when Lady Clarice was quick to fill the void when answers were sought, it was then she understood why they were hesitant to speak. “The Conquest of Dorne. The battle to last over centuries to come.” She held no filter as she played her fingers through her golden locks, eyeing Sylvia’s expression. She remained calm. “The Martells will never concede. Never to bend the knee to the crown nor compromise their terms to end this shitful fight, ultimately wasting our resources and men. Them vipers aren’t grateful no matter what we do. But enough is enough. Should they refuse us once more, we will come back harder.”

One could not live in Dorne and not know of its conflicts not only within the country but outside of it. Even for someone like Sylvia, who didn’t care to know as it was never her concern nor was she sitting at the table with something to offer. It was strange living on the outside of the world, on the lands of the same enemies that were plotting against her home.

Sylvia didn’t know where to stand.

While her roots were in Dorne, her lineage was far from it. One came with traumatic memories and a life that served no purpose while one was an opportunity in a lifetime, a purpose of many should she choose one. Or perhaps she didn’t have to choose. With her given title, she could pursue anything. There was no limit as far as she knew.

Sylvia would always be proud of her home, grateful of her upbringing, and prideful of her Dornish roots—but wasn’t stupid to risk her life for the damn country or piss off others who were against them. The same one that took everything from her. Her mother included. And it’s people they claimed to care for. Her loyalty never extended beyond that.

“I see,” said Sylvia, uncomfortable with their eyes on her every movement. Probably they were expecting her to curse this country and accuse Lady Clarice of spreading lies to fuel more propaganda.

They soon reached the door that led to the Great Room. Maester Ollins was currently inside because his distinctive voice carried through the cracks.

Lady Anya waved her hand, dismissing the short awkwardness. “Enough of that depressing subject. Let’s leave it to the men. Why don’t you join us for a round of fox and hound after your studies before supper?”

Sylvia never heard of this game before. “I don’t know how to play this game.”

“You never heard of fox and hound?”

“No. Should I? Is it popular here?”

Lady Anya’s jaw dropped as if the girl was learning her first word, and one of the ladies had to remind her that Sylvia was not from around.

“I can teach you. It’s quite easy once you get the hang of it if no one’s adding any last-minute rules.” Lady Mercia offered, and Sylvia would like that very much. “I’ll be the fox for the first round if you like. Just until you grow comfortable.”

“That goes against the rules. Every newcomer must be the fox. Even I had to be for three rounds.” Lady Emma argued.

“Surely we can bend one little rule for our new friend. That which you are—a friend in our circle. A position quite hard to obtain, even Lady Julie scrambles for our companionship that we offer you at no obligation.” Lady Clarice scooped Sylvia’s arm, walking closer toward the door and leaving the rest of them behind. Only Meya joined a few steps behind. “I hope you make up your mind soon and join us for a round or two, milady. It is a fun game to know more of each other and I can show you great hiding spots. As my father says, it’s good to have friends in every corner of the world each with something to offer.”

Her sharp eyes and naturally arched brows made her appear as though she was constantly plotting. But while her aura was mean-spirited, she didn’t look like one with much motive other than hoarding friends under her belt within her control.

Sylvia never had friends outside of the pleasure house or around her age, especially highborn ladies of such status—a status they shared. Making a variety of friends could serve her well in the future. She wasn’t sure what it could be or when, but knew it was in her best interest to join their inner circle. Be their friend. Accept their companionship and maintain good relations. And play a few rounds of fox and hound.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

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