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cursingtoji · 1 month ago

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summary: clan leader!gojo needs a favor from your clan but as the leader you refuse, so he proposes to give you a child since your husband is unable to.

"and what am i to do when the child comes out with a white head of hair and blue eyes?"

“if that happens…” he undoes the knot that holds your kimono together and pushes the material down your arms with no resistance from you, “…then i’ll kill your husband myself and marry you.”

nsfw ahead cw: historical au, infidelity, pregnancy, creampie, child birth, satoru is pathetically in love. featuring samurai bodyguard geto and toji.

“i thought we had solved all our business with the gojo clan” your husband says from the door he leans on.

“and i did” you emphasize the i since the head of your clan is you and only you went to the clan meetings that got things solved. you tapped your lips a little bit more to place the reddish pigment looking at the mirror, “but satoru summoned this meeting and gave no details.”

“satoru huh?” your husband points, not letting go unnoticed the fact you used his first name without formalities.

“all right” you take one step back checking if your kimono is proper, “see you tonight” you peck his lips lightly to not ruin the tint on yours and proceed to the carriage outside.

for years the gojo clan and yours avoided each other due to some very old beef that no one remembers or even was alive when it happened, so when your mother passed and you assumed as the new head you soon decided to reach out to make peace with the current head of the rival clan and a friendly relationship was restored. more often than not you two met, sometimes with other clan members or even other clans when necessary, but today gojo insisted on being just the two of you.

toji, your bodyguard, opens the carriage door when you arrive and give you his hand for you to step out.

to avoid any issues the place of the meeting was always the temple middle way your residences. from time to time your families attended the prayers there, that’s when your husband saw satoru for the first time.

“where’s his wife?” he asked the first time you pointed the white-haired man as the clan head after you made peace.

“he doesn’t have one.”

“fiancée then?”

“i don’t think so” you both watched discreetly as he greeted the monks.

“i find that quite odd. what about the black-haired man?” he pointed to geto, gojo’s bodyguard, “could they be involved romantically?” geto leaned to whisper something to his master, a little bit too close if you might add, a few more inches and his lips would be touching satoru’s ear. his romantic life was no business of yours but you didn’t like the idea of him having any partners, didn’t seem right, though deep down you knew it was very unlikely for a handsome man like him to be alone. both men somehow found your curious gaze.

“geto” you greet the known bodyguard as you enter the temple, and he bows to you, your bodyguard nods at him as well and you’re guided to the secret room.

the conversation went on for almost an hour, satoru served you tea when he noticed you finished yours, which was unusual for a clan head to do such a mundane task but he always insisted no servant join on your private meetings. you always thought he was particularly paranoid about spies, but that suspicion was dismissed when you had your first meeting with other clan heads and he didn’t oppose the people that stayed in the back of the room waiting for their master’s orders.

“satoru we went over this on the last meeting, why am i here?” you are getting impatient, satoru always seemed relaxed when he was at the temple like it’s the one place people don’t come to him with problems, so he tended to do things without any rush at all.

“so impatient…” he smirks, “i was getting to the point but fine. i need your doctors for a few weeks.”

because of the many wars and the necessity to heal mainly the samurai your clan became specialized in healing techniques and remedies instead of combat.

“is someone injured?” you raised your eyebrow, it wasn’t likely for satoru to ask for something like this when he could’ve sent a letter.

“no. but we are expecting a conflict soon and—”

“let me stop you there satoru” you raised your hand and for a second you saw a glimpse of annoyance cross his features, “we don’t get involved with battles anymore, the healers go through extensive training and i can’t risk losing them in battle.”

“so instead of putting their knowledge into practice you rather keep them locked in a room reading books?”

“they are busy with research at the moment” you raise your chin unwilling to budge on the matter.

“is that so?” he tilted his head smiling “and how many people does it take to figure out your husband is infertile?”

you widened your eyes, this is way too personal of a matter for someone else, especially another clan head, to know.

on the other side of the door, geto and toji guarded the room, they were close enough to listen to the conversation and without turning his head geto looked at toji with his eyebrow raised, to which toji only nodded confirming the rumors.

“you’re not the only one with little birds across territories, sweetheart” his smile only seems to grow.

“that is no business of yours. besides, lending you my healers will only harm my clan and, as i said, put them at unnecessary risk” you managed to find your composure back and avoid the infertility topic.

“don’t you trust i have the best warriors? you seemed to when we came to your aid” he reminded a time you asked for their men.

“i paid for that.”

“and what makes you think i won’t?”

“we don’t need money.”

“i’m not talking about money” he drops the volume of his voice.

“listen, satoru—” you rise to your feet sensing the tone of this conversation is off.

“i’m listening, for a very long time i’ve been listening” he rises as well and takes a few steps in your direction, “you know what i listen to? the rumors about your family threatening to make your brother head of the clan if you don’t bear an heir soon.”

you take a step back.

“or the resources you’ve been spending to research a treatment for your husband. tell me, darling, can he even get it up for you?” he is too close now, you can see all the details of his insanely blue eyes.

“he— that’s not a problem” you accidentally confess.

“of course it’s not, look at you” his finger brushes your cheek and the touch makes you burn under your skin, “i could give you a child” he lowers his head to your ear, running his lips on it, “a healthy, smart, beautiful child” he presses his hand on your belly over the thick material of your clothes, “and it wouldn’t even be an effort” he presses his hardened member on your hip.

“and what am i to do when the child comes out with a white head of hair and blue eyes?” you look into his eyes challenging him to a solution.

“if that happens…” he undoes the knot that holds your kimono together and pushes the material down your arms with no resistance from you, “…i’ll kill him myself and take his place as your husband.”

you gasp, not expecting such an answer from the man you always watched trying to find a way to avoid violence.

satoru kisses your jaw then your cheek and when he gets close to your lips you turn your head, your conscience only now, in this intimate act, attacking you.

“he’s not fulfilling his duty” he whispers, letting go of the knot on his kimono, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. you open your eyes, not even aware you had closed them, and see his sculpted torso, so close to you, so warm…

“it’s not your fault, can’t you see?” he raises your chin, “it wasn’t meant to be, unlike us” you know he’s just telling you what you want to hear, but in his voice everything made sense.

“you’ll see” he picks you up and lowers his body with you back to the mat in the middle of the room, his kimono is still around his arms while yours was forgotten somewhere else, leaving only the very thin, dress-like, white undergarment that pretty much showed everything.

satoru lowers his head to your chest, his tongue wetting your nipple over the material, “i bet you’ll become even prettier” he replaces your breast with his hand, big and hot, and goes to the other nipple, “with your breasts heavy and a big belly” he sucks on you, hardly, you put your hand over your mouth.

satoru raises your legs over his shoulders, “your feet will get tired” he kisses the inner thigh, “but you’ll still come and see me” you thought it sounded like a question, it was a statement.

his head goes down, as he kisses your folds your back arches, he licks a stripe ending on your clit and flickering it.

satoru starts to lose himself, he gets too intoxicated by you, almost forgetting time is running against him here. he doesn’t have much longer until your bodyguard gets suspicious and calls for you, and by the way your hand is tight against your mouth he doubts you’ll be able to give a proper response.

he wants to make you cum before he shoots his load, suguru’s intel told him you asked one of the doctors if the woman needed to come to increase the chances. it doesn’t take much medical knowledge to interpret that question.

you cum on his tongue pulling him out of his dreams where he imagined himself doing that every night after those boring fucking meetings he has to attend at every slight inconvenience in his clan.

“it’s gonna be okay, just relax for me” he pushes his length slowly before you get the chance to see his size. you whisper his name behind your hand and he can’t stand not seeing your whole face, so he takes your hand out of the way and kisses your wet lips pushing his tongue and swallowing your moans as he goes deeper and starts to pick a pace.

satoru holds back a curse, reminding himself he’s in a sacred place and although anyone would say that’s ironic given what you’re doing in the temple he would argue that’s even more sacred than what most people prayed for.

you start to feel his weight down on you as he trusts get sloppier, he’s still kissing you, holding your lips with his when he twitches and fills your insides, in your drunk mind you think it’s so much more than what you’re used to.

after he catches his breath he pushes himself up and out of you, you allow yourself to close your eyes for a brief moment but you open them wide again when satoru pushes his cum back into you with his finger, “keep it deep and warm for me, yes?”

one hour later you pass through the door your bodyguard slides open for you to enter your chambers. on the way there you realized there’s no chance he and geto didn’t grasp on what was happening inside the room.

“toji?” you call before he can close the door and go to his personal room, he stops, indicating he listens although he doesn’t respond with the formality others usually do, “i trust you won’t share with anyone what happened today” you speak firmly looking the tall man behind you over your shoulder, his scar stretches slightly with his smirk, the man bows and closes the door.

they said it was a road accident, the horse got spooked and ran, by the time they found it there was no rider so they searched your husband and found his body down the mountain.

the ritual was long, you wore the traditional widow clothing, accepting the kind words of the clan members and the prayer of the monks. though you really were sad, all this pity was making you sicker than…

“at least you didn’t have kids, no child deserves to grow up with a dead father” an old lady says to comfort you while holding your hands.

“excuse me” you turn around walking slowly to not raise suspicions and as soon as it is just you on the other side of your home you bend your torso and throw up all you’ve eaten before the funeral.

you cough and when a tissue enters your field of vision you immediately take it and clean your mouth.

you feel your stomach empty but the light volume below it reminds you of whose fault it is.

you raise with the tissue on your lips to say thank you and the sight of the white-haired man makes you choke.

“shh, it’s okay, i’m here as an ally, to give my condolences to a friend in grief” there’s absolutely no seriousness in his tone.

“what about the war?” you ask through heavy breathing.

“that was child’s play, don’t worry, your healers will return safe and sound in a few days” he puts his hand on your shoulder to calm you down, you do.

satoru takes a second to drop his sight to your belly, it has been a month since your last encounter, and by your sensitive stomach he knows that one time was enough for you to get pregnant.

“do you think you can hide it for another month until the wedding? then when the child is born we’ll just say it was a premature birth” god, your former husband’s body was barely cold and gojo is already planning the wedding and what to say about the baby.

“why now?” you look up at his mischievous eyes, he knows what you’re asking truly.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, it was an accident right?” he touches your face, brushing away a tear that came out, more of a natural body reaction of your gagging than a sadness reaction.

“satoru, tell me” you demanded.

“i just reflect a little you know? when i said i would kill him you never asked me not to. besides, i don’t want another man to think they own what’s mine” his eyes are darker, you think he’s talking about the child in your womb but by the intensity of his gaze, you realize he’s talking about you. “if you need anything tell suguru, i’ll have him staying in the village until we announce the wedding.”

“no, i have toji, don’t want anyone suspecting geto’s intentions” you defend.

gojo doesn’t seem to like it, but he doesn’t argue either, “either way, i want to see you. meet me at the temple in five days, we’ll talk about the arrangements” he leans in and kisses your forehead before turning away and then back “i almost forgot” he reaches for something inside his sleeve and pulls out a shiny golden bracelet with gems and puts it on your palm, you know you can’t wear it now but god it’s gorgeous, “came from the west especially for you” he puts his hand on top of yours and leaves it there for a long moment as you look into each other's eyes. satoru is fighting the urge to kiss you, if someone catches you he can’t say he’s comforting his recently widowed friend, so he forces himself to let go of you and go head back to his village.

the midwife instructs you to push harder as her helper dabs a wet cloth on your forehead. you’re squatting, on your knees giving your all to push the baby out.

finally one last push is all that it takes for the little one to come out, you want to lay down and close your eyes, but you need to see the baby first so you mumble something with your arms open, the midwife cleans baby’s face through crying and screaming.

“it’s a boy” she whispers putting him in your arms. satoru enters when he hears the cries and kneels in front of you. behind him are both suguru and toji, who aren’t allowed to enter but the men are also very eager to see the child they can’t help but try to peek.

you balance the boy in your hold for a little bit till he stops crying and when he opens his eyes you see the blue sky.

“give him to the father, we’re not over” the midwife says.

“what?” you, satoru, toji and suguru ask. the last two get an angry look from the midwife and remove themselves from the scene.

“the next one will come out soon” she puts new towels below you.

“two children? at once?” you ask in disbelief then look at satoru who can only smile apologetically.

after god knows how long you’re finally allowed to rest as the babies were cleaned and fed. the second one was a girl, with identical blue eyes as her brother and father.

“i can’t believe you put two kids in me” satoru is outside the wooden tub, breaking all tradition by helping you bathe after the birth.

“can’t say i’m sorry for that” he rubs your shoulders, “you were incredible” he confesses now that there’s only the two of you. satoru refuses to even let your feet touch the floor, he takes you out of the tub once the water starts to cool down, placing you on a dry surface and getting on his knees to dry your feet, you reach out to touch his face.

“i love you, satoru” you blurt, overwhelmed by your feelings for the man who was once your rival.

he looks up from his position, taking the hand on his face and kissing your palm, then your pulse, he kisses inch by inch of your arm until his lips are on yours, “i love you.”

"pay up, pretty boy" toji approaches geto.

"excuse me?" suguru looks up from the sword he's polishing now that gojo dismissed him for the rest of the night.

"i said it was gonna be a boy."

"yeah and then a girl came out right after so the bet was invalidated."

"there's no such a thing, the boy will inherit it all anyway" toji crosses his arms, geto laughs, fishing a coin from his pocket since he knows toji will say anything to win the bet.

"and what makes you say that? there's two clans and now two heirs" toji snatches the coin as soon as he sees the silver glow.

"that's just how it has ever been" he turns his back to geto who drives his attention back to his sword.

"things are changing old man.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x you

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emthimofnight · 5 months ago

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A Sonic and the Black Knight version of Stellar—Lady Archfedd, daughter of King Arthur!

Some lore:

Came to be when King Arthur and Sir Lancelot unknowingly laid together upon a fairy mound, resulting in the fey gifting (or perhaps cursing) the King with a changeling child. Despite Lancelot's protests, Arthur accepted the infant as his heir.

Lancelot is half fey himself in this AU, and thus has a wide knowledge of fey culture and behavior (the fairies in this AU look a lot like Black Arms aliens from canon).

Despite his initial reservations, Lancelot does eventually grow to see Archfedd as his daughter.

Due to Arthur and Lancelot's relationship being secret, in public Archfedd is simply known as the King's daughter.

Archfedd learns of her fey heritage in her teens.

A skilled swordswoman, her fighting style is like that of a dancer, slashing out with twin blades.

Her swords are dubbed Efeilliaid Eira—the Snow Twins. Said to almost shine blue in the midst of combat.

Being of fey heritage, her armor had to be specially crafted as to not harm her. Pure, precious metals such as gold, silver, and cold iron all burn her skin.

Despite being trained in combat by each of the knights of the round table, it is rare she actually gets to fight alongside them.

Alt fey form appearance:

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ienjoywritingfilth · 4 months ago

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teach me, general

hi: i wrote this because general acacius is still making me feel hornee things®. I don't know shit about roman gladiator times, about the language, about a n y t h i n g this is just a debauched excuse to think of this man naked and fucking.

You've been promised to another man to save Rome, but you have no desire to become his wife. Marcus Acacius has been assigned to ensure you do not flee before your wedding. Things happen.

trope: enemies to lovers

pedro character: Marcus Acacius x female reader (you)

warnings: innocence kink, age gap (not specified, but he an old peepaw just how we like him) , Marcus tries to be good but we like him bad, AU as fuck because i have no idea what happens in the movie, virgin bullshit, eating out, allusions (are what whores do for money or candy) to other sex, , i think that's everything.

RATED 18+

wanna see my other stuff?

"I will not play nursemaid to a spoiled child."

Marcus sweeps the scroll from the desk angrily, standing and stalking to the window, his cape fluttering behind him.

Commander Cassius, an older man and one of The emperor's most trusted advisors stands in the corner, his gnarled hands folded in front of him.

"She has not been a child for quite some time, General Acacius," the commander replies, a smirk crossing his lined mouth.

Marcus only makes a scoffing noise at that, refusing to turn around and give the older man the respect he thinks he deserves.

"She is desperate." the commander adds, walking in Marcus direction. "She is to be wed tomorrow."

"The city talks of nothing else."

Marcus is sick to death with talk of your marriage to a neighbouring royal family. The marriage means bountiful coin and harvest for Rome. It's a step towards unification and the future.

But for the last several months it's all he's heard of between battles. The dress, the food, the entertainment. It's all so grating to hear about when he throws himself into daily combats.

"She has made her feelings on the matter quite clear," the commander says with a gentle exhalation. "There is concern she will flee in the night."

"Why?"

"She has no desire to marry. No interest in continuing the bloodline."

There are rumors of course. That the Prince you've been promised to is dim, that he drinks too much, that he has an eye only for men. It's no wonder you don't look forward to such a union.

"She says she will study at the universities instead," Cassius chuckles. "A silly fantasy. She is a woman after all."

Marcus is quiet with contemplation. He'd just returned from battle days ago. He was still weary, his patience thin. The poor reception home from his family adds to his bitter mood.

"But she is wise beyond her years," the commander says. "She has managed escape more than once, as you well know. It was you yourself who retrieved her the night of her eighteenth birthday in the olive grove was it not?"

Marcus rolls his eyes recalling how you screamed and punched his armour as he dragged you down from the branches, throwing you over his shoulder. You screamed until your voice was hoarse as he carried you home that evening, shouting obscenities in his ear the entire way.

All because you'd wanted a chance to see the Gladiators. You'd begged your parents and they'd been quite clear that it was no place for you. You'd snuck out anyway, caught by Marcus before you could even get to the Coliseum.

When he does not reply the older commander stepped forward, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"You have your orders from the Emperor."

Marcus shrugs off the older man's touch, his dark eyes sharp.

"And why must it be me?'

'"Because, General Acacius, you are the one man that cannot be fooled by her."

The slave is at the door when Marcus knocks at your bedroom. Their face is covered; their stance cowered when they open the door widely.

"General Acacius," the quiet voice observes eyes on the ground. Marcus is grim-faced, entering into the room.

"I have been instructed by the Emperor to keep watch tonight."

"I see," the woman nods, her face still tilted respectfully to the floor. "I was just about to fetch her dinner."

Marcus steps further into the lavish room with its bright, white walls and smooth marble floors.

"Where is she?"

"She is in her bed," the slave replies bowing even more lowly.

Marcus' dark eyes move to the bed, seeing the sleeping figure's chest rise and fall through the gauzy curtains that hang on all sides.

"The sun is not yet set."

"She is overcome. Her wishes for the marriage to be called off have been ignored."

Marcus nods, watching as the slave goes to move past him. Her feet slap the floor slowly, everything in her body suggesting an unhurried dedication to her position.

She brushes Marcus' sleeve and he sniffs the air, a familiar scent wafting over him. Roses.

Without warning his large hand darts out, grabbing the slave by the arm and dragging her back into the room before she can leave. The door is slammed shut, her exit blocked.

"General-"

Marcus says nothing; he simply rips the veil from the woman's face, shaking his head in frustration as your uncovered visage stares unblinking back at him.

He watches as you sneer, your irritation clear.

"How did you know?"

"Rosewater," he replies in a husky murmur. "No slave could afford to bathe in such luxury."

You pull your elbow from his grasp, furious at being caught. You call out to the girl in your bed.

"Amilius you are released."

A taller woman a haggard face and wild hair rolls out of the bed. She is clearly a slave but wears an embroidered toga meant for royalty.

"You will still be paid," you assure her as she approaches you both, her eyes on the floor. You retrieve the pouch of clattering coin from your locked cabinet, placing its heavy bundle into her shocked hands.

"It is too much."

"Not at all," you insist. "I thank you for trying. You may keep the clothing as well."

"You are most welcome."

The smile the two of you exchange is sweet and Marcus is furious at the sight of it. How dare you think up this scheme and how dare this slave go along with it?

"You are bold," he says, stepping towards her. "To defy the word of your Emperor and not expect retaliation."

"She did it only to defend me," you break in, stepping between Marcus and the girl. "To give me a chance at escape."

"Treason," Marcus snarls, his eyes still on the girl behind you. "You will be put on trial."

Amilius shrinks back, her eyes wide. The thought of punishment like this never occurred to her. She simply follows what you tell her, as she always has.

"I will say I drugged her," you shoot back. "I will be put on trial. I will be sentenced to death. I choose that. Anything is better than a marriage to that self important caenum!"

Your chest heaves with untapped anger. Marcus knows that this is true. You are just stubborn enough to choose death but it would mean only calamity for Rome.

"Leave us."

Amilius nods and shuffles from the room, closing the door behind her. You watch as Marcus locks it before coming back to you.

"So they sent the General," you say with a laugh as you remove the slave’s cloak you were wearing. You drop it into a chair before looking at him. "How fearsome a creature I must be if the strongest General in the army is sent to watch me."

"Fearsome I think not. An annoyance to be sure."

You roll your eyes, going to the table that holds the wine and other spirits. Several chalices are there, empty and ready to be filled.

"Some wine, General?"

Marcus shakes his head. He would never drink when on such a job. He doesn't trust you. You shrug, pouring two glasses anyway.

Marcus is surveying your room, quietly taking in all the personal touches. He notices you position your writing desk to the east, to enjoy the midday sun. Your bed is soft and layered with furs to keep away the chill.

You walk back over to him, holding out the larger chalice to your guest.

"Here."

You watch as Marcus takes both chalices in hand, swapping the one you poured for him with yours. You go to deny him this but he's already taken a deep pull from his glass, smiling at you when you make no move to do the same.

"None for you?"

You try to keep your voice even, not wishing to show your hand.

"I find my thirst rather quenched."

"Is that so? Or is it that I caught onto your pathetic ploy to drug my wine?" Marcus smirks, taking a deep sip.

You say nothing; you bite the inside of your cheek instead. Marcus digs the blade in a little deeper.

"The vial made a rather obvious noise when it hit the rim of the chalice."

You bite so harshly you draw blood.

Its hours later and the fire has been cracking for the better part of the evening since the sun went down.

Marcus sits on an ornate chair before the fire, his body stoic and broad and strangely intimidating despite his continued silence. He has the chair facing you, not letting you out of his sight for even a moment.

You sit at your writing desk, hunched over parchment as you write hurriedly. The scratch of the stylus is the only sound in the bedroom.

Marcus exhales slowly, irritated at needing to be here at all. Knowing his luck, he'll also be forced to be at the royal wedding as well.

You stand and take a stretch, cracking your back as you arch your spine. The flowing fabric drifts over your body pooling at your feet. Marcus takes note of your head tilted back, eyes closed. He doesn't remember your profile being this striking. He muses it is one that should be etched onto roman coins, remembered by those to come forever after.

You walk over to him with a tired look in your eyes.

"It is late," you tell Marcus.

Marcus doesn't reply. He simply sits there, waiting for you to tire of whatever game you've begun.

"I thank you for the fire, General."

"You are most welcome."

He isn't expecting you to walk behind him pretending to stoke the fire. And he can only blame his lack of focus on his extreme lack of sleep. He'd managed none during battle and at home it seemed he was more than a little restless.

He feels your hand slide the dagger from his hip, realizing too late. You go streaming across the room, your eyes wild when he races after you.

"Impudice fur!"

"I have stolen nothing," you shoot back at the insult.

The two of you circle what another in the room like your own miniaturized version of the Gladiator pit.

"You have stolen years off my life," Marcus growls. "You have turned my hair silver."

You look at the dark hair threaded with grey in parts.

"You have done that yourself, General, thanks to your love of bloodshed and the battlefield."

Marcus rolls his eyes. "Only a stulte would think my strategy anything other than necessary."

"If you insist," you say rolling your eyes, clearly disbelieving.

"Return the weapon."

Marcus is strong, he is quick and you will have to submit to him. There is little else to do, aside from throwing yourself out the window behind you. The thought of that horrible childish man being your husband makes you seriously consider it.

You can't help it, thoughts of being his wife, of being tethered to such a man disgusts you. You would more readily marry Marcus Acacius if you had to. At least the man had honour and dignity.

And then all at once the answer is clear to you. You drop the knife onto the floor, hearing it clatter as you spin and throw yourself towards the large open window.

Your feet slap against the stone floor as you fling yourself towards the open air. The realization that before you die you will know what it is to fly.

Marcus is on you almost immediately, grabbing you around the middle before you can tumble to outside. He yanks you back, tackling your unwilling body to the ground. He pins your hands to the ground. You attempt to wrench from his grip, squirming under him.

"Stop these foolish games."

"It is no game," you shout. "It is my life! I will choose if I live or die!"

All at once Marcus is very aware that you are not the child he once saw in the halls or at events. The child and then teenager he found so grating with her questions that he took to ignoring her.

"Still yourself."

You wriggle in his grip like a worm. As you do your hips graze his cock and he's shocked to find a stab of arousal hit him.

It's as if for the first time he sees that you've become a woman. A beautiful one at that, all soft curves and kissable mouth. He stares at the damp plump of your lips and realizes that he's growing hard under his toga.

He throws himself off of you, hunched over until he gets to the window. You're rubbing your wrists, completely unaware of what happened as you stand, glaring at him.

"It is what is fated," Marcus barks at you.

"How easy for you to say!" You scoff disgusted. "Tomorrow I will be the wife of a childish boor who would rather chase cock than spend a moment with me. Rome will be safe for a time, yes, but at the cost of my entire being. And you, General Acacius, will go on living your life free of restraint."

"I come with my own shackles, believe me."

"And what is that? Too much coin for wine? Too many prostrating followers who blindly obey you?"

"A wife who married me for my title. Two stepsons with the combined intelligence of a pomegranate seed.” Marcus shakes his head. "You act as if everyone may rule their destiny but true freedom is granted to only the few."

He can see the fight leave your body.

But he knows you’re still upset. He moves over to your desk, needing a break from your smoldering glare. The parchment you were working on earlier sits there, writing unfinished. Marcus takes a scroll in hand, squinting down at it.

"What are these?"

You rush over, your face red as you rip the scroll from his hands.

"Nothing!"

Seeing your weakness Marcus holds it up out of reach, a childish grin on his face as you leap up, trying to grasp them. But it's no use, he's taller, stronger and you fall back, defeated.

“Tell me and I will return it to you.”

"They are poems," you mutter exasperatedly, feeling shy.

"Your own?"

"Yes."

"I wonder what about," Marcus says and he reaches into the desk to find several more scrolls. "What dress to wear to the market? How best to complain about having everything?"

Marcus takes them in hand, a sneer evident in his face as you reach for them again.

“You promised!”

“As you promised your fidelity to the prince.”

“My father promised him. I promised him nothing.”

Marcus lets out a small huff before turning his back to you. You can see him unrolling the scroll, beginning to read. You watch him, feeling both furious and anxious. These are some of your innermost thoughts that he’s reading.

There is a long bout of silence. You watch his broad shoulders sag, his hand flipping the page over and continuing to read. He does this through several sheets until you can't stand it anymore.

"Give it here!"

You pause with your hand on his elbow. He's solemn, but that's not what shocks you. It's the tears that he wipes quickly away with his free hand.

"Are you---"

"No."

You step backwards, your hands falling to your sides. You have known the general since you were a child of thirteen. Over ten years you have been in his company and only now have you seen him lose his composure.

As a child you were convinced he didn't feel true emotions. He was always this tall, impressively stoic figure. You never spoke to him outside of your father's company. You only heard everyone talk of his skills on the battlefield, of his keen mind. The only time he truly emoted in front of you was when he ripped you from the warm embrace of the olive tree, forcing you back to your boring life. Hissing at you that you were ungrateful for all you'd been given.

"This is very beautiful," he admits in a voice dragged over sand. "The way you describe death is very," he searches for the word. "Vivid."

"Thank you," you reply dumbstruck.

You've never received praise for you writing outside your friends. So to receive it in the form of your current enemy is more than a little shocking. Marcus has no allegiance to you, in fact, his response is so genuine because you know he's fighting against his inner desire to chastise or condemn.

Seeing this hulk of a man with tears still damp along his waterline has you softening everywhere. He's looking at the pages and then back at you.

"Have you any others?"

"Yes," you nod.

"All on the same theme?"

"A variety."

"May I see?"

You walk to your writing table, pulling out the parchment you hide from prying eyes and pass them into his outstretched hands. You wait with your lower lip lodged under your top teeth, your fingers twisting together. You don't know why but you crave to know what he's thinking.

You don't need to wait very long.

"It is clear there are limitations to your skills."

He has the familiar arrogant expression on his face as he says this. You bristle sharply at his words and he notices.

"You write of death, you write of jealousy, you write of fear,"' he says. "All of these you compose with obvious talent, with a voice I feel here."

He taps the centre of his chest before he holds up some of the pages you laboured on.

"But these? The poems of love, of desire? They feel false."

You take a moment to digest what he's saying. He's treating you like an equal, as if you're someone who can take the criticism. It propels you to explain instead of running away in embarrassment.

"People want poetry to transcend them, to deliver them somewhere beautiful. How else to do that other than with poems on such topics?"

He holds up the pages.

"It clearly does not come naturally."

"It is a challenge at times."

"You write of loss with such acuity," Marcus explains. "Why then do you describe the action between a man and woman so stiffly?"

"I have experience with loss."

Marcus stares at you, surprised.

As the daughter of the emperor he'd just assumed you'd have your fair share of romances. You're a beautiful woman and if you were anyone else but the Emperor's daughter he might have pursued you himself.

You feel his gaze trained on you and you walk to the fire. The flames reflect in your eyes as Marcus continues to watch you. You swallow your embarrassment and look over your shoulder at him.

"Will you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"What I am to expect on my wedding night."

Marcus lets the scroll fall from his hand onto the stone floor. At the sound of its contact he shakes himself, retrieving them and placing them on your desk.

"You have not known the touch of a man?"

With cheeks stained in embarrassment you shake your head.

"I have not. The life of the privileged daughter isn't one that allows for entanglements," you sigh. "I fear for what awaits me."

Marcus thinks of your future husband, a man who doesn't want any part of you. You'll wither on the vine, ripened and juicy and waiting.

What a waste.

"I cannot," Marcus says. "I am simply here to ensure you do not flee."

"Perhaps I will not flee if I know what is to occur."

Marcus sighs and strides towards you. You watch as he pulls over one of the chairs you had at the window, placing it across from the chair you sit in before the fire.

"You will be wed; there will be the wedding celebration with most of Rome at your unity. Then he will take you to his chamber."

You lick your suddenly dry lips.

"I am no fool. I know what the day’s events will be, General. I want to know what happens in consummation."

Marcus inhales deeply. He can feel himself growing stiff. You are a delectable thing, forbidden in so many ways. He itches to touch your skin and taste your cunt.

"He will, he will press his mouth to yours."

"Show me."

"No."

"Please," you beg, coming to stand closer to him. "Once I know what is to come I will feel more able to conquer this fear I feel."

Marcus debates this as he stares at you. And it's his cock that does the thinking for him when he steps closer to you.

Marcus sighs heavily through his aquiline nose. You hold your breath as he grips the back of your neck, like you're a bothersome kitten. Holding you there he lowers his face to yours, grazing your lips with his.

You coo gently at the sensation, your nipples hardening as he wraps his arms around you. He's so broad, so muscular, you feel so vulnerable and yet safe in his arms.

You cling to him, body immediately wrapping around his, pressing so tightly to him that you feel everything. Your hips roll against his and you shudder pleasantly when you feel his breathing hitch.

"More," you beg. Marcus groans, his large hands coming to cup and knead your breasts as his tongue invades your mouth.

He's murdered men, he's plotted army overtaking, and he’s attacked the unarmed, but touching and kissing the virgin daughter of the emperor? This is the most corrupt thing he's ever done.

And you're so desperate for him, no hesitation in any part of you. You just allow him to plunder your body, his mouth moving down your jaw to your neck and then the barely concealed valley of your breasts.

His hands move around your body, pressing and caressing and skimming until they land at your backside. You kiss him fervently, feeling his palms tug you against his hard cock.

You whimper, eyes rolling back as the two of you grind against one another. It feels so sinfully good to do such a thing.

"That is enough," Marcus says stiffly, pulling back from you when you make that sound. He looks at your swollen lips and dazed expression.

"Please, show me everything," you whisper. "Teach me."

Marcus has a fairly good idea that your wedding night is going to be brief and awful. The least he could do is give you some pleasure before you're thrust into a lifetime of timid touches and non-existent intimacy.

Just once, a sinful voice whispers. Fuck her just once to see how it feels.

"I cannot."

You feel insecurity wind its way around your ribs before tugging brutally. Its clear Marcus does not find you handsome enough to tempt him or he still sees you as a child. In humiliation you turn from him and take a seat before the fire once more. Your shoulder sag as you gaze down at your clasped fingers on your lap.

You hear Marcus sigh from the window before you sense his approach. He comes to sit in the chair opposite you, his gaze so serious.

"It would be wrong."

"But I desire it."

"It would be dishonourable."

"Please," you beg him again, finally raising your head. "My entire life you have been there for me, coming to my aid. And now I turn to you for the final time, General. Please help me."

"I cannot do it."

"But why?" You demand now, knowing that your patience is wearing thin. "Give me one true reason."

He lifts his muscular frame out of the chair, crossing until he gets to you. You gaze up the length of him, not flinching when he drops to his knees between your parted thighs.

Marcus tilts forward until his body nears yours, his hands on either side of your chair arms. His body is so warm, so broad. You fight the urge to touch his chest as his swollen mouth brushes your ear.

"Because if I were to start, it would take the entirety of the Emperor's army to stop."

You blink slowly, your eyes trailing over his face and body. Your entire body is fizzy, like lightning is coursing through your veins instead of blood.

"I would pull you apart," Marcus hums against your skin. "I would draw noises from you that you cannot begin to imagine. I would have you shaking and begging for more and I would continue."

You can't breathe.

“I would fill you with my seed, marking your womb as mine. I would do it over and over until I was spent, only to do it all again at dawn."

Marcus groans softly, his dark eyes scanning down your toga to the swell of your breasts.

"And even then I would not be able to cease," Marcus says as he squeezes your breasts through your toga. "I would train your mouth, your cunt, every hole you possess in the ways of pleasure. All would be mine, nothing left for another."

You stare at him, unblinking.

"And so you see why I must refrain," he finishes huskily. "Why I cannot give you what you believe you desire."

When did he go from the scowling general to a real man with such a filthy mouth? You’re quivering all over, desperate for him to be even closer. Your eyes drop to his full mouth, aching to feel it again.

"What if that is what I crave? What if I have no desire for you to cease?"

Your fingers go to his, pulling one hand under your toga, leading him up between your silken thighs. Marcus allows it, eyes on you but his hand inching towards your centre.

"You do not know what you ask."

"Show me, Marcus," you whisper, your mouth nearing his. "Make me yours if only for tonight."

Your lips slot between his, kissing with uncertainty as your hands go to the buttons at his shoulder. His fingers are slowly teasing your entrance as he stares at you.

You arch as his thumb begins to circle your clit, his long fingers starting to nudge your liquid heat.

Marcus knows that every inch of you he touches is another year in the pit if he's discovered. You are the most forbidden fruit in Rome. Yet he continues to slide two fingers to the knuckle into your core, curling them as you cry out for him.

At the sharp sound of your cry he withdraws his fingers, glossy with slick. He stands, needing to clear his head. He feels your confused gaze on his back.

"I cannot defile you before your wedding," he explains. "Your chastity is of the utmost importance."

"The slaves tell me of ways to circumvent such an issue," you tell him as the cape he wears falls to the ground.

He watches you untie his toga, urging it from his body until he stands there in nothing but his gladiator sandals.

He is truly a sight to behold. Golden, muscled, captivating in the same way blood along knuckles shine in sunlight. You take your time to walk around him, admiring the tight taut of his ass, the breadth of his wide shoulders littered with scars and the curls that tease the bottom of his neck.

You save his front for last, taking your time to watch the trail of hair move from his navel downward.

His cock is hard, thick and heavy. It weeps at the tip, already so eager. It hangs there; too large for you to imagine entering you as you reach out and touch it. He hisses at the first point of contact.

He watches as you carefully touch him, marvelling at the iron of his cock until the silk of his skin. You trace the vein on the underside, trailing it from the base to just below the mushroom head.

You slide down to your knees, fascinated. Amilius has spoken to you of men when you’ve asked. She has been married and has a child. You know a bit of what men like but only in theory. You lift your eyes up to see Marcus staring down at you with a heated gaze. Your hands go to his thighs, gently resting there.

You grin before leaning forward and placing the sweetest peck to the tip of his manhood.

Marcus growls softly in the back of his throat. His eyes close briefly before opening, looking darker than before. You watch as he takes his cock in hand, gripping it by the base and pulling it towards you.

You part your lips, ready to take him on your tongue and are surprised when instead he drags the tip along your bottom lip, leaving a trail off pre-cum there. You lick the remnants, curious at the salty taste. He watches you with increasing interest.

"Irrumabo," Marcus murmurs, his cock tapping against the full of your bottom lip. "Yes?"

You nod, opening your jaw. Marcus smiles, thumb tracing the curve of your mouth.

"Not tonight," Marcus says as he shakes his head, bringing you to a gentle stand. "Tonight is your pleasure."

He tugs the gown from your body, letting the silk pool on the ground beside you. You shiver under his gaze, noticing his length which twitches.

Marcus feels his breath leave him as your nude body is bared to him. You look so innocent there, waiting for him, gazing nervously at him through your lashes.

"Goddess," Marcus hisses, his hands coming to cup your breasts. "I am a condemned man for even looking at you."

He lowers his head eagerly, nipping and licking your nipples as you cling to him, urging him to take more as you arch your spine.

"Marcus, please more," you moan.

Unceremoniously he pushes you back to sit in your chair, your legs splayed in surprise. He drops to his knees, moving your legs to hook over his wide shoulders. You allow this, your body limp and eager to be posed by his strong arms and hands.

He looks up to see you panting, staring down the length of your body at his face between your legs. Without breaking eye contact Marcus dips forward and licks a stripe up the centre of your sex.

Your eyes immediately shut as pleasure ripples through you. His wide hands grip your creamy thighs, holding them in place as he continues to probe his tongue deeper into your channel.

Your hands grope the air around you fruitlessly. You don't know what to do with them. Marcus notices and he takes your wrists between his grips, forcing them to card through his hair.

He goes back to sucking your clit and you feel your hips buck. Your fingers dig into his skull, holding the curls and you understand why he placed them there.

"Harder," he tells you sharply as he peppers your inner thighs with sweet kisses. You tug harder on his curls and he groans softly in approval.

You make a shuddering noise of pleasure and it dies in your throat as he pulls back from you. His eyes are stormy as he looks up the length of you to give you a disapproving shake of his head.

"Silence, cherub. We do not need the guards coming to investigate your shrieks."

You nod breathlessly, clapping a hand over your mouth as he continues. The sounds are muffled against your palm as he brings his hands to slide under your ass, pulling your sex deeper into his mouth as he consumes you, groaning into your cunt when you cum.

"Marcus!"

"Quiet," he reminds you between licks.

As you sit there in the chair he brings you to a second steady orgasm, revelling in the muffled yips you make when you begin to writhe against his face, coating him in your essence. When your shuddering ends Marcus slowly withdraws his tongue from your cunt, gazing up at you with a dazed look.

"My husband will do this to me?" You pant; your body shiny with perspiration. "It was so pleasant. I felt the sun within my body."

Marcus remains on his knees, his mouth glistening with your arousal. He gives you a pitying look, knowing full well that your husband to be likely won't see you past your wedding night.

The thought enrages him as he sits there, cheek against your thigh as you give him that hopeful expression.

"No," Marcus finally admits. "I believe his actions will be more perfunctory."

You frown.

"How? Show me."

"You ask too much."

"Yes, I do," you admit with no hesitation or embarrassment.

Marcus gives you a calculating look before standing. You sigh, waiting for him to leave when he crouches down beside your chair, sliding his hands behind your back and under your knees and hoists you into his arms.

"I will give you what you desire," he tells you gently. "I can deny you nothing."

"You have denied me much over the years," you remind him with mirth. "When I tried to see the Gladiators fight and you pulled me from that olive tree?"

"And I never heard the end of it. Imagine denying this request? You'd have me hanged."

You give a shy giggle before lacing your fingers behind his neck, your mouth finding his with ease as he carries you to the bed.

The two of you lay in the twisted blankets of the bed, bodies gleaming with sweat. Marcus did exactly as he promised. For hours he took you apart, forcing you to come on his fingers, his mouth, his cock. You took him at every turn, eyes shut and your mouth covered by his palm or his lips.

And now that the dreamy haze bleeds into reality you find yourself frowning. Marcus, with his arms holding your body to his notices immediately.

"What troubles you?"

“Tomorrow I will be another man's wife," you say with tears in your eyes. "Rome will be saved for a time but at what cost? I'll never feel pleasure like this again. I'll never have you in my bed again."

Marcus feels a pull behind his ribs, and he leans forward to kiss you gently. You respond, your tears damp on his cheeks.

"Your lessons will continue," Marcus promises, kissing behind your ear. "I will make sure of it."

"My husband--"

"Will be thankful when you are with child," Marcus tells you in a hush, his hand curving over your stomach. "My child."

Your eyes are luminous.

"After your wedding night he will not come to your chambers," he promises. "But I will. I will drink the nectar between your legs and I will spill myself down your throat. I will have you everywhere and when we pass in public although there are no words to be uttered you will know I think only of you. That I am yours and you are mine."

He wipes away your tears with his large thumbs before pulling your mouth to his. You fall asleep in his arms, the sensation of his body there to protect you through the night.

Marcus stirs the next morning to the sound of birds outside the window; it's cheerful and bright as the sun that hangs high in the sky.

It feels right that your wedding day should be beautiful when you yourself are so exquisite.

Marcus feels his cock hardening immediately at memories of last night. Of the sounds you made and the way you felt. He looks forward to a life with you, even if it must be in secret. You are something special, something like freedom.

He cracks open his eye to take in your sleeping face, but your side of the bed is empty. A scroll is there beside him in the empty bed instead, his name written. With a panic in his heart he unrolls it, finding a lock of your hair tied with a ribbon inside. He takes it, pressing his lips against it as he reads the words from your hand.

Carissamus General. I know that as you read this you will think me a villain, but I promise that my words were true and my body forever yours. Please understand why I could not possibly allow another to touch me. Freedom is for those who take it. I leave you a piece of me in exchange for the piece of you I will carry in my heart. I owe you everything and perhaps in the next life we will have the future you dream of. Until then I wish you the same joy and pleasure you gave me. With all my love, and all that I am.

Marcus reads the beautiful words over and over. They spin around his skull as he dresses, pulling on his toga and cloak. But instead of anger in his expression he smiles serenely.

He's always enjoys a good chase.

#marcus acacius aesthetic #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius #gladiator2 #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal fanfiction #smut #pedro pascal smut

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princessbrunette · 9 months ago

Note

BABY DADDY RAFE!!

like they co parent but they aren’t really together, but the lines are a little blurred, like he’s always at the house to see his daughter but the lines get blurred when she’s put down for bed and the two of you cuddle and fuck on the couch

⊹ ~ ⊹ ~ ݁. 🎀 ݁.⊹୨🐰୧ ⊹ . ݁🎀 . ݁~ ⊹ ~ ⊹

i just love the au because it forces him to be a little soft when it’s clear he’s so reluctant to be. he didn’t want a baby for that exact reason, he knew it was gonna make him sappy and he’s tryna handle business— but he quite literally cannot help himself when he comes round to see the kid and you’re standing in your little nightgown crying into your hands because he’s the first person you’ve seen all week, it’s been so lonely and isolating and you’re just so relieved that someone else is there to pick the baby up when it cries for just a little bit.

he doesn’t like that one bit. rafe is unhinged and an asshole at times but he doesn’t play about the mother of his child because that’s who looks after the baby and obviously the two of you had a connection for you to end up knocked up?? you cry to him, rambling about how hard it’s been and he’s there nodding furiously with his lips a lil parted and wide eyes trying to seem like a really active listener :(( drops the nonchalant act real quick

“hey, no tears alright? i— i didn’t know you were feeling like this. why the hell did you not call me? i told you, you can always call me about this shit.” wiping your tears away and pulling you into his chest :( “look, tell you what we’re gonna do okay? gonna leave the baby with rose for a few hours. gonna take you out for lunch, yeah? then— then okay, you’re gonna have a fuckin’ nap. ‘cos you look exhausted.” and you just can’t stop crying from relief, the weight being taken off you for a lil bit 😮‍💨

def starts making more of an effort after that, checks in all the time, fucks you when you need it, feeds you when you need it, falls in love with you by accident 🙄 combats every one of your complaints too. “i just have no friends now, rafe.” “fuck you talking about, kid. i’m your friend.” lmaooo

⊹ ~ ⊹ ~ ݁. 🎀 ݁.⊹୨🐰୧ ⊹ . ݁🎀 . ݁~ ⊹ ~ ⊹

#anon #babydaddy!rafe #rafe cameron prompt #dad!rafe

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kentoxo · 1 month ago

Text

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt. 3

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: another part out! it's a tad bit lengthy, so sorry about that! i also wanna apologize about how crazy the taglist looks (im so sorry). it wasnt letting me tag yall so i just spaced it out to make sure yall get alerted. if anyone has advise on how to fix that, pls let me know

all parts: pt.1, pt.2,

December | Tokyo, Japan | 4:45 A.M

It was finally Thursday, and you were spending your early morning tangoing with your vacuum.

Despite doing a deep clean yesterday after work, your paranoia was over the roof. Nanami’s visit consumed you like a parasite, with nothing relieving your nerves. Even the sun could not bear witness to your franticness as you long turned on all the lights and began your cleaning venture. You didn’t want to risk Nanami calling you a slob if he saw even one wrapper on the floor. Nanami was quite the meticulous man after all, his eyes containing radars for this kind of stuff.

As you began to dust your already dusted coffee table, you quickly grabbed your phone and dialed Haibara’s number. After a few rings, you hear a click and groaning sound. “Nnnmmm… who?” He barely whispers.

“Yu, get up!” You hiss. Haibara and you have long established your friendship, backing up your ability to drop honorifics. “I need your help, and now.”

“Y/N?” He groans out. You hear some shuffling before a long period of silence. You continue to clean while Haibara tries waking up again. “It’s not even 6… why?” Though his voice was deep and hoarse from exhaustion, he sounded nothing less than a child complaining about waking up early to go to school.

You huff, “don’t you remember? I texted you after work that Nanami is coming to my house today– in like an hour!”

“‘n why does this have to do with me?” His voice sounded scratchy from the speaker of the phone.

“What should I do? What kind of couches does he like? House smells?”

“Y/N, it’s too early for this,” Haibara says through a yawn. “You wouldn’t even be able to buy another couch, even if you wanted to. No furniture store is open at this time.”

You try to continue the conversation, but you were met with snores in response. Hanging up the phone, you let out a sigh. Nanami was coming over for work, not to criticize your home designing choices. You cover your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks tingle from embarrassment. “What am I doing?” You murmur to yourself. There truly was no need to be nervous. This was not a date.

Even so…

You spent the rest of your morning prior to your shift making sure you looked nice. You style your hair neatly, drape on a comfortable jumpsuit (despite Nanami’s comforting words in regards to you wearing pajamas during his visit), and begin working on coffee. You had managed to ask Tae (your newly hired corporate barista) for some instruction on how he makes Nanami’s favorite coffee. You certainly questioned the ingredients and methods, but you continued to follow the instructions. As you were pouring skimmed milk into black coffee, a gentle knock was heard at your front door.

Your heart threatened to escape against your chest. You quickly give yourself a look in your hallway mirror before rushing to the door. Shaky hands sheepishly unlock the door, introducing you to a Nanami you have never seen before.

Here he was before you, in a trenchcoat, black crewneck and black joggers. His eyes revealed his true exhaustion, with his under eyes slightly darker than usual. His hair was not parted from the side, but rather slicked back and wet as you assumed he showered before arriving at your place. True to the weather, his cheeks and nose were rosy from the cold. You saw him let out a relieving sigh when introduced to the warmth of your home.

“Goodmorning Y/N,” Nanami hums, his voice hoarse from not being 100% awake. His hands were loaded with his briefcase and a big bag. Judging from the smell, it was the breakfast that Nanami promised he’d buy.

Your mouth felt dry in awe, “good morning to you as well, Nanami. Let me take your coat for you.”

“Ah, I’d hate to get your hands cold,” Nanami waives your offer. He puts down his things gently, being mindful of the breakfast. He begins to strip off his coat, and carefully hangs it on the rack by the door. “It’s unforgiving out there.”

There were snowflakes on his eyelashes, “is it snowing hard out there? I haven’t pulled the curtains yet.”

Nanami smiles and nods, giving his head a little shake to remove the remaining snow from his head, “I’m glad I didn’t invite you to my house instead. Otherwise, you’d be freezing like me.”

You burn up, and quickly gesture to the slippers on the floor. “P-please feel free to get comfortable in the living room! I have the heat in there.”

He bows curtly, “thank you for having me.” You watch as the tall man walks towards your living room, taking a seat on the bigger of the two couches. You rush into your room and retrieve two blankets. Joining Nanami in the living room, you offer him your warmest quilt.

“This’ll keep you warm while you’re here,” you hum. Nanami takes your offer and spreads the blanket over his legs. You see him shiver a bit before getting cozy in the blanket.

“You’re too kind of a host,” Nanami expresses his gratitude once more. He then eyes around before chuckling, “ah, I left our breakfast and my laptop at the front–”

“I’ll get it!” You jump at your words, quickly retrieving the items. You pass him his briefcase, and take the breakfast to your kitchen counter. “I wrote my wifi password on the table, please feel free to connect to it. A-and…”

You walk over to your coffee maker, and lift up the mug of coffee you prepared for him. You carefully hold it with two hands, making a slow walk towards Nanami. He quickly understands, and raises his hands as high and close to yours as possible while remaining seated on the couch. Cold fingertips brush against your knuckles. He holds it delicately, his eyes narrowing down at the froth at the top. “Is this…?”

“Your favorite coffee,” you say quietly. You look away shyly, hoping he didn’t see your nerves in your face. “I asked our recently hired barista how he usually makes your cup of coffee when I went to offer him the position. And so… yeah.” You shuffle in your place, waiting for Nanami to take a sip. But your nerves get to you first and stab at your calm facade, “andifyoudon’tlikeit,I’llbuyonefromoutside–”

Nanami takes a big swig from the hot brew, his Adams Apple protruding his throat from each gulp. A drip of coffee decorates his bottom lip, threatening to either drop on his pants, or begin its slide down his chin. He puts the mug down on one of the coasters of the coffee table and drags his sleeved wrist against his lips. “Y/N,” he emits slowly. “That was… very delicious.”

You could melt right then and there. “R-really?” You felt the bubbles in your words. You were practically floating like one! His reassuring smile made your heart skip several beats. “I would never, ever judge you, but I didn’t realize that fig could work with coffee.”

Nanami smiles warmly, his eyes wistful with nostalgia. He takes out his laptop and turns it on, rubbing the mousepad aimlessly with the tip of his index. “I was addicted to sweets, if that surprises you,” Nanami recounts fondly. “My mom was frustrated, unable to really keep sweets away from me. She was too nice, and would submit whenever I asked for a candy bar at the market.”

You giggle a bit, your hand covering your lips to mask the smile you had. “It’s crazy to think that you, Nanami, would be a sugarhead.”

Nanami lets out a light chuckle, “surely, I like sweets every now and then. Just… in moderation. My mother was the catalyst for the dent in my sweet tooth. She stopped adding sugar in my tea. Rather, she would add half a fig into my cup, and pour the hot tea over it.”

From the memory, your body suddenly felt warm and cozy. Imagining the combination of a fresh fig with green tea being poured over it… it was quite soothing. “It sounds like she was a lovely mother,” you hum. Your smile widened when seeing Nanami’s hazel eyes warm from the recollection. “What made you decide to add fig into your coffee instead?”

Nanami shrugged, “nostalgia, I suppose. It doesn’t offer the coffee much of a sweetener, but you can definitely taste it. I suppose the memory is what makes it sweet.”

You were floating. Being able to speak to Nanami like this– it felt like everything. You two don’t hang outside of work, besides holiday parties or work trips. Even then, all these activities are imbued with your job. Although Nanami was in your house to work with you, it felt different. The two of you can speak freely without eyes constantly flickering to you. As you were lost in your thoughts, Nanami cleared his throat.

“Please feel free to clock in and start eating,” Nanami hums. He adjusts the blanket to cover his feet. “Today's work isn’t too crazy, and I’d rather you feel full and awake.”

You take kindly to his consideration and return to the kitchen. You take a platter plate and begin to unload the bag of breakfast he picked up. You start taking out several breakfast sandwiches, your eyes wide at how many there were in that bag. “Nanami… how many did you get?” You exclaim, holding one sandwich in each hand. He looks over at you and smirks amusingly.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” Nanami said, his smile still being tickled from your shock. “I just got one of everything.”

You smile from his smile, and begin to stack the individually stacked sandwiches on the platter. Leaving the one you want on the counter, you bring the sandwiches near him on the coffee table. You look down at his mug, the coffee-soaked half-fig sat in the center of it. “Would you like another cup?” You offer kindly.

His eyes meet yours, and after a pause, he nods slowly. You grab his mug and go over to the kitchen to prepare another cup. As you did, you decided to make two cups of his favorite coffee. The curiosity picked at you– you wanted to know what Nanami’s favorite coffee tastes like. As you prepared it, Nanami was tapping away at his computer. You tap on your phone to check the time, and realize you need to clock in now. Once you do that, you check your calendar and turn to look at Nanami.

“You have a meeting in 15 minutes with the head of Sales and Strategy,” you remind him.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Nanami hums from your couch, “I got so into responding to emails, I definitely would have forgotten. So, thank you again.”

“Of course!” You chime. With both coffees done, you bring both of the mugs over to the coffee table and quickly go back to fetch your breakfast sandwich. You begin to strip the parchment paper from the sandwich and begin to eat it in the kitchen, with a few crumbs falling on the granite top. You walk over to the smaller sofa and set down your breakfast sandwich. You grab your own laptop from the drawer underneath the coffee table and begin to boot it up.

You ate while waiting, enjoying the crisp bacon and cheddar cheese in the sandwich. Nanami looks over at you while you quietly dance to yourself. “I assume it’s good?” He begins, a small curve at the end of his lips. Cheeks warm from his words, and you nod while chewing on your bite. He leans over and brings his hand to your face. You froze while you felt his thumb gently rub your chin of all the crumbs you accrued as you ate. “Ah, m’sorry,” Nanami quickly retracts his hand, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m really sorry if that made you uncomfortable, Y/N.”

“Ah, it’s okay!” You quickly waive his concerns, “you were just trying to help is all. I appreciate it…”

Silence ensues between the two of you. But Nanami stopped typing once more to comment on the two mugs. “Did you make yourself a cup of coffee as well? It doesn’t look like what you usually get.”

You shook your head, “it’s a bit too cold for iced coffee. Plus, I wanted to try your coffee and see what the hype is all about.”

He smiles sheepishly, “you might not care for it much. It’s a bit too bitter.”

You shrug, “I’m still curious.” And that same curiosity bit you in the ass. You carefully lift the mug and take a sip, the taste of hot, acrid coffee tormenting your tongue. Quickly placing the mug down, you give Nanami the stink eye. “You… are very brave,” you let out as you take another bite of your sandwich.

Nanami lets out a genuine laugh, “it isn’t for everyone, truly. But it warms my heart that you were willing to try it.”

You look over at him, noticing the wistfulness of his eyes. It was worth it, albeit the foul taste. “It tasted much sweeter in my head when you talked about it,” you softly hum. “I’ll… continue to enjoy it vicariously through you.”

“You’re good with not being mean, Y/N,” Nanami says through another gentle laugh, “I envy that about you a bit.” It was like he was shooting arrows directly at your heart. “A-ah, there’s no need to make everything a bad thing,” you let out nervously. You begin to log into your computer, “just because it’s not for me, doesn’t mean I should make you feel bad.” Nanami agrees with a nod, “you’re absolutely right.” He shifts a bit to get more comfortable in his seat, and looks down to make sure his feet are really covered. When he does, his eyes saunter towards the spare slippers you lent him. “Ah, Y/N, I hope I’m not intruding in you and your partner's space.”

Where did that come from? “Hm?” You eye him curiously.

He points down to the slippers, “these slippers are much bigger than your own.”

“I like to keep a pair for when I have visitors like yourself,” you reason, “but you are absolutely not intruding. I’m… very single.” It felt a bit embarrassing to admit that to your crush, but what can you do? You didn’t want him thinking you were taken when you were readily (hopefully) available for him.

“I see,” he comments quietly. Keeping his eyes glued to his computer, Nanami continues, “I apologize for even bringing up something sensitive like this.”

You shake your hand, “it’s completely fine! Honestly, I don’t mind at all.” Fiddling with your thumbs, you look over shyly at your boss, “I’m like an open book so… whatever you are curious about, I don’t mind sharing with you. I trust you… quite a lot, Nanami,” you admit, your face completely hot.

“And I you, Y/N,” Nanami peels his eyes from his screen to meet your own. “You’ve been nothing but an asset since your transfer, and I couldn’t be more satisfied with your work ethic and capabilities.”

You look down at your lap, with your hands finding solace on your knees. “Thank you very much,” you reply humbly, “but I wouldn’t be like this if I weren’t under your guidance. I feel like I’ve progressed much faster within the company since becoming your assistant. I don’t say this quite enough, but… I’m very grateful to you, Nanami.”

“You might sway me with your flattery, Y/N,” Nanami teases, “your words are so soft, it feels like you’re confessing.”

“A-ah?” You exclaim nervously. You knew he was messing around, but it almost feels like… “d-don’t get the wrong idea! I just respect you a lot, is all… nothing more!”

Hazel eyes narrow down at your face, and Nanami lets out a sigh of relief. He hovers his hand over his chest, closing his eyes in bliss. “That’s actually quite relieving to hear,” Nanami hums. Relieving?

“Hm?” You asked, “what do you mean?” What were you missing?

“Ah no,” Nanami begins to smile again, “I had caught wind of a rumor that I was gullible enough to believe a bit. It made it quite nervous, truth be told. But you’ve now confirmed that it was nothing more than a silly rumor.”

“A rumor?” You felt your body go cold.

Nanami nods, while replying to emails once again, “I overheard some of our coworkers rumor mongering. Along the lines of you having feelings towards me beyond friendly ones. But I’m glad it turned out to be false.”

Fingertips felt like ice, and your heart transformed into glass. It shattered moments after Nanami’s words. Everything that you adored about this man was quickly turning ugly. The idealization of your boss was crumbling, with your feelings following suit. This confirmed that your crush wasn’t light– it was deep and sincere. He broke your heart while head on with your adoration. Haibara’s warnings begin to taunt your mind while your sane mind tries to tend to your heart.

You didn’t even get the chance to confess.

He practically threw away all of your efforts. Every time you would get him coffee so he didn’t have to get it himself. Keeping the staff in check constantly so he needn’t ever worry about the progress of the department. Always organizing all of his meetings and attending to things that were considered miniscule to him. Getting the new barista hired so he could enjoy his beloved coffee within the office. Memorizing all the goods that trigger his childhood sweet tooth.

Your throat felt tight, with your chest feeling even tighter. Tears were threatening to gloss your eyes, with the power in your hands going weak. Your body was ready to go numb, and you wished nothing more than to ask Nanami to leave your home. But work just started, and you couldn’t just kick him out in the middle of his shift.

Your feelings were hurt, but you couldn’t afford being unprofessional. You nod, “just a silly rumor.”

You put down the breakfast sandwich, as a wave of nausea quickly entered your system. You grab your mug of coffee and your laptop. Rushing over to the kitchen, you toss out the remainder of the bitter coffee and begin to make your way to your bedroom. Nanami caught light of your stride and looked up at you, eyes asking where you were off to.

“I have a meeting as well,” you force out, “it’s confidential.”

“Ah, right,” Nanami accepts. “I understand. Take your time, and good luck.” He looks back at his laptop, not missing a single beat when returning to his emails.

With that lie, you close the door behind you, run into your closet, and allow your tears to pour out. Drops spill onto your keys, but you didn’t care. Helpless hands wipe away your tears, only to find futility in its efforts. In your silent woe, you let out your own sigh of relief, despite your pain-filled cry.

You no longer had to torture yourself with the what-if’s. You no longer had to wonder what it would be like to be Nanami’s girlfriend. Your crush was at the end of its road.

With a struggle (through tearful lenses), you take out your phone, scroll through your messages and tap on Haibara's name.