#except its more like if you were favored by a god | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dungeefox · 16 days ago

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Forced Favor — J.W.W

Two completely different people settling in an arranged marriage to fulfil their father's wishes. Except, what if they end up becoming fluent in choosing one another more than they planned to?

pairing: wonwoo x oc

genre: arranged marriage, friends-ish to lovers, enemies-ish to lovers

warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, pool sex, unprotected sex, cumshot, cursing, dirty talk, big dick!wonwoo, fingering (f receiving)

wc: 14,710

a/n: comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! 🥹

The day after your parents finalized their divorce, your mother left, taking your sister with her while you stayed behind with your father. You recall the tears streaming down your face as you pleaded with her not to go. Despite her obvious favouritism toward your sister, having her in your life feels far better than enduring the indifference of a father who seems uninterested in you.

Your father never desired to have children, viewing them as a burden. This likely explains why, as soon as your mother left, he sent you away and has largely remained distant since. You were just fourteen at the time, and adjusting to life on your own was far from easy. Many nights were spent feeling lonely, frightened, and longing for home, wishing for someone to reach out to, but there was no one available. It's not that you didn't make an effort to connect with your parents and sister; you did, and quite desperately, to be honest. You attempted to call several times, but they never answered. You even wrote letters detailing how you were doing, sharing your academic successes, and almost pleading for their pride. You hoped that one day they might want you back, but after six long years, that day still feels out of reach.

Until yesterday.

It felt surreal when you got a call from your father informing you that he had arranged a flight for you to return home. He only said, "Mr. and Mrs. Jeon have invited us for dinner," and you didn’t probe further about the occasion. You were simply filled with joy at the thought of being reunited with your father once more.

𓂃۶ৎ

"Do you know why you're here?" Wonwoo inquires as he guides you along the stone path in his backyard. You both have just stepped out of the dining room because he wished to have a private conversation with you.

You respond with a slight shrug of your shoulders. "Why?"

He halts next to a wooden bench, leaning forward to wipe the dust off its surface. "Here, sit."

You glance at him, hesitating for a moment before finally sitting down. "What is this about?"

He takes a position beside you, adjusting slightly so that he faces you. "Our parents want us to get married."

M-married?

You're uncertain if you're hearing him correctly. For a moment, you can only gaze at him, your lips attempting to form a word, yet nothing escapes. Eventually, you manage a quiet "What?"

"I understand," he replies. "That's quite a lot to take in. Feel free to take your time."

"Take my time?" You laugh, not out of humor, but because it seems absurd. "I don’t need time to process this. You must be out of your mind if you think I'm going to marry you."

"Well, tell that to our parents—they set this whole shit up."

You narrow your gaze suspiciously. Somehow you have a feeling that this is one of his stupid pranks. Not that it's new to you. He does it all the time. The asshole acts like it's his job sometimes.

“I swear to God if this is one of your-” Wonwoo lifts a finger up, cutting your speech short. "I know what you're about to say. But no, it's not a prank. I'm serious."

"So you're telling me you actually agreed to this arrangement?" you inquire, raising your eyebrows in disbelief.

"No, not really. But I'm doing this for my father. I’m sure you’ve heard about it."

Yes, your dad mentioned Mr. Jeon's declining health during the drive from the airport. Currently, he is overseas receiving treatment for his illness. A wave of sympathy washes over you for Wonwoo, yet it doesn't sway your decision.

"I'm truly sorry about your father, Wonwoo. I really am. But marrying me won’t cure his illness."

"I understand that," he replies, letting out a heavy sigh. "He just wants to see me settled down before... you know."

"Settled down with... me?"

Wonwoo gives a nod. "You know how much my parents adore you. They've been trying to set us up since we were teens."

"But he can't force you to marry someone you don't want to. Do you honestly think you can spend your life tied to someone you don’t love? You can’t even commit to a relationship.”

He shrugs casually. "I don't mind if it's you I'm marrying.” You huff, not believing him. "You don't even like me.”

You and Wonwoo have been childhood friends, having grown up as neighbors. However, your personalities clash like oil and water—completely incompatible. He is the only person who truly knows how to irritate you. It’s not that you dislike him, nor does he qualify as your enemy. You must admit, he can be quite charming at times, especially when he isn’t saying or doing something foolish that gets on your nerves. This happens only once in a blue moon, by the way. Sometimes, it's hard to believe he is twenty-eight while you are just twenty-one; it feels like it should be the other way around.

“I never said I don't like you," Wonwoo denies. "I actually do. I think you… uh…"

“I'm what?" You probe, lifting your brows.

"I think you've got nice teeth," He says.

“What? Teeth?!"

“Yeah. Teeth. They look especially nice when you smile. Which you don't do often by the way.”

Is this a joke? You thought as you gave him the eye-roll.

"Look, you may not be someone who takes matters like marriage seriously, but I do. I can't sacrifice myself to spend the rest of my life with you just to please your father. And if I ever plan to marry, it would be to someone I love."

He exhales and nods. "Alright, I respect your decision.”

You rise from the bench and gaze down at him. "Can we get back inside now?"

"Sure."

𓂃۶ৎ

Upon returning to the dining room, you find the table cleared and everyone gone. You look over at the man beside you, who appears just as puzzled. He steps out of the dining room, and you follow him into the living hall, only to discover it is also empty.

"Where is everyone?" you inquire.

“Your father has left," replies Wonwoo's mother as she descends the staircase.

"What? Why?" you ask, a sense of unease creeping in. "Did he mention anything?"

“We were talking about you and thought it would be wonderful for you to stay here with Wonwoo for maybe three weeks or more, giving you time to consider the arrangement."

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "What do you mean?”

“I trust Wonwoo has filled you in on this, right?" She glances at her son.

"Yes, but—" You look at Wonwoo, silently questioning, “Are you part of this too?” He responds with a clueless shrug.

"Think of it as a trial period," she continues. "It's just an opportunity for you to see if you like Wonwoo enough to marry him." She pauses, smiling as she takes your hand. "You don't have to feel pressured to say yes, but Mr. Jeon and I would be thrilled to have you as our daughter-in-law."

There's so much information to absorb, and it’s all happening so fast. Your mouth opens and closes, struggling to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Oh, and your father mentioned he’ll be out of town for a few weeks," Mrs. Jeon adds.

“Wait, what?” Panic seizes your heart as you look around, searching for your purse. Spotting it on one of the sofas, you rush over to grab your phone. A message from your father catches your eye. Holding your breath, you tap on the notification to read it.

“Sorry, I have to leave early to catch a flight to China. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon have kindly offered for you to stay at their place for now. Hopefully, you can decide by the end of your stay there. I genuinely hope you'll say yes. This is everything I could have wished for you: to marry someone wonderful, someone of high status like Wonwoo. You'll make me so proud. Plus, Mr. Jeon has been a big help to our family; we owe him a lot.”

The words slowly sink in. It feels as though the world is spinning around you, and you’re on the verge of fainting. You sway slightly on your feet, but suddenly Wonwoo is beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist for support.

“You okay?" he whispers, gazing down at you. You nod slowly, feeling his proximity make you blush, and you quickly look away.

“Aw, look at you two, such a perfect match,” his mother coos, clasping her hands together, her expression dreamy as if she's watching a romantic movie.

You clear your throat, straightening up to create some distance between you and Wonwoo. He interprets this as a signal to release you, but his eyes remain fixed on you as if he fears you might collapse if he looks away.

"I'm feeling a bit exhausted from the jet lag," you tell his mother. "Would it be alright if I head up to my room first?"

“Oh dear, of course! You must be so tired." She glances at Wonwoo. "Can you show her to her room?"

"Which one?" he asks. “Any bedroom upstairs," she replies, adding with a playful tone, "Just try to avoid the haunted one."

Your eyes widen as you switch gazes between Wonwoo and his mother. "H-haunted?" Wonwoo laughs softly, placing a reassuring hand on your lower back. "Let’s go," he says, guiding you up the staircase.

"What did she mean by 'haunted'?" you inquire, looking up at him as you ascend.

"The previous owner tragically took their own life in one of the bedrooms upstairs."

"Oh, fantastic," you mutter quietly to yourself.

As you reach the second floor, the atmosphere feels less grand than below. A narrow hallway stretches out, with three rooms on each side. The lighting is dim, and rustic paintings adorn the walls. You notice your small suitcase waiting by the door at the far end of the corridor. That must be your room.

"Which one is the haunted one?" you whisper cautiously to Wonwoo as he leads you down the hall. He gestures toward the door directly across from yours, sending a shiver down your spine. Wonwoo opens the door to your room, and you step inside, pulling your suitcase along as he flicks the light on.

“Let me know if you need anything," He says.

"Wonwoo, wait," You turn around, feeling more nervous now that he's leaving the door nearly closed, but it flew open again.

"What?" He says, standing at the doorway, his hand holding onto the door jamb.

"Where will you be sleeping?" He nods towards the room next door.

"Oh," That's a relief. "Okay. Goodnight.'

A little frown forms on his forehead as he stands there, studying your face. "Will you be okay?’

"You mean will I be okay staying across a haunted room? or will I be okay staying with you for the next three weeks?"

"Both."

"No and no," You reply sharply. "can't even stand being in the same room with you for a minute, let alone living together.” You didn't know what got into you, but you certainly didn't mean to say that.

Wonwoo takes a sharp breath, as if he's fighting the impulse to snap back at you. "Do you want me to send you home? You don’t have to stay here if you’d rather not."

You want to respond that you don’t really have a home, but that would only prompt him to ask why. You're too worn out for that kind of inquiry.

“Never mind," You reply, turning away from him. "Just leave me alone.”

"I swear you are so fucking confusing sometimes," He murmurs under his breath.

“Me? Confusing?" You turned sharply to glare at him. "This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t agreed to this ridiculous arrangement. You brought me into this! It’s entirely your fault!"

The door swings open as Wonwoo steps inside. "If you're so against it, you should've told my mother no just now. It's really that simple!" he countered. "Why didn’t you speak up?"

"Because—" You pause, your lips moving as if searching for words. "I just can’t, alright?"

His brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean you can't?"

With a resigned sigh, you finally confess, "My dad wants me to stay here, and he believes I should marry you."

“Why didn’t you let him know that you’re not interested? You had no trouble rejecting me earlier,” he remarks with a sneer.

“You don’t get it,” you reply. “My relationship with my dad is incredibly strained. If I say no, he’ll be so disappointed. I don’t want to jeopardize the little connection we have left by letting him down.”

He gazes at you, pausing for a moment to let your words resonate. "So, you're really considering marrying me?"

"I honestly don't know, Wonwoo," you respond with a heavy sigh. "I'm just too tired to think right now. All I need is some sleep." He nods in understanding. "Okay, I'll see you in the morning."

"I'm sorry for raising my voice at you," you mumble as the door is about to close. He turns to you, a small smile appearing on his face. "It's alright, I actually missed it."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "You missed being yelled at by me?"

"Yeah," he confesses. "But I miss you even more." His sincerity almost makes you believe him. Then, you remember that this is Wonwoo – the guy who speaks his mind without a filter. You can't take his words too seriously.

"Goodnight, Wonwoo," you reply simply.

"Aren't you going to say it back?" he asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Nope," you say, turning away from him.

"Fine. Just don't come looking for me when the demon creature haunts you tonight."

You whip your head around to face him. "There's a demon creature?!"

Instead of answering, he turns away and slams the door in your face like a first-class asshole that he is, leaving you all alone in that room.

𓂃۶ৎ

You spent the previous night brooding over how awful this entire situation is. However, by morning, you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ll be here for the next three weeks. After all, it’s summer break, and there’s nothing you can do or anywhere to go. Your options are either to stay with Wonwoo or be completely alone in your apartment overseas. You decide that the former sounds more appealing because, despite how annoying Wonwoo can be at times, he is still your friend and some company would be nice.

Regarding the marriage arrangement, as absurd as it may seem, you might actually think about giving it a chance.

Might. Think.

If you were to agree, it would be for your Dad, not for Wonwoo. Perhaps it’s the message he sent that resonates with your willingness to sacrifice. The part of you that is eager to make him proud and gain his approval. Maybe this could help mend your relationship with your Dad. All you can do is hope.

𓂃۶ৎ

Deciding it’s futile to keep brooding, you rise from bed and slip into your cozy robe before stepping out of the room. In the daylight, the hallway feels less menacing than it did last night. Yet, the thought of a haunted room still sends shivers down your spine.

You finally reach Wonwoo's door and knock gently. There’s no response. After a few more attempts, you choose to enter, as silence persists. The door opens just enough for you to peek inside. A glance at the bed reveals that Wonwoo is absent, but the sound of the shower fills the air.

Your gaze wanders around the room. A large display shelf occupies one wall, overflowing with train sets and famous landmarks crafted from Lego. A smile crosses your face. You've always known about his childhood fascination, but you never expected it to endure into adulthood. The grown-up Wonwoo seems more like someone who engages with women rather than toys. Perhaps you don’t know him as well as you thought.

Then something else captures your attention. Scattered across the floor near the shelves lies a massive Lego set that’s only partially assembled. It appears he’s constructing the Tower Bridge. Curious, you find yourself stepping into the room, leaving the door ajar behind you. You tread carefully to avoid disturbing the scattered bricks and pieces as you move further in.

Has anyone ever tried stepping on this thing? Hurt shitless just so you know. You bend your knees and squat down to get a clearer look of the miniatures. Everything looks so wee and cute. You smile at a tiny replica of a London bus and pick it up. As you're inspecting it, the bathroom door behind cracks open. You slowly bring your head around and you gape and freeze on the spot, the bricks slipping out of your grasp, free-falling to the ground.

Standing at the threshold of the bathroom is Wonwoo. Wearing nothing from head to toe. And he is staring at you, eyes wide open, looking more dumbfounded than ever.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He yells from where he stands.

"I'm so sorry!" You quickly turn your head and spring to your feet, ready to escape the situation. However, as you take your first step, a sudden, piercing pain shoots through the back of your foot, causing you to stumble. You prefer to avoid the f-word unless absolutely necessary, but…

“FUCKING HELL!” Everything falls apart. In that brief moment, you can nearly witness your life flash before you. They say this occurs just before death, but the truth is, you’re still very much alive. But you're pretty sure it feels all the fucking same when your ass landed on these tiny little bricks on the floor.

"Oh shit! Are you okay?" You lift your head and gasp at the sight of him striding towards you. All naked. His, whatever it is, swinging freely. Don't look at it, don't look! Instead, you find yourself staring in disbelief. No matter how hard you try, you simply can't erase that image from your mind. Maybe it is a testament to how lonely or horny you are. You might have been experiencing a dry spell for quite some time, or perhaps you've never encountered something so large and thick in person before. All of a sudden you're wishing this is porn so you could just get on your knees and suck him off into oblivion.

Wonwoo clears his throat, and the sound cuts through your wandering thoughts. You snap back to reality, looking up to see him standing tall above you.

“I'm so sorry!" You scream as you swiftly cover your eyes with your palm to block your sight. Using your other hand, you push yourself up to stand and quickly pivot to scurry away. Your ass is on fire but you don't even care anymore. All you need is to get out of there.

𓂃۶ৎ

Following that awkward moment in Wonwoo's room this morning, you now find yourselves having breakfast in complete silence. Mrs. Jeon has left the country to be with her husband, leaving just you and Wonwoo in the house, along with the housemaids—who mostly remain invisible unless needed. The dining room is eerily quiet, with only the sound of spoons clinking against plates breaking the stillness. You're making a concerted effort to avoid eye contact with Wonwoo, but every time you steal a glance, you catch him already staring, which sends your mind racing and makes you blush uncontrollably.

Wonwoo, on the other hand, is revelling in this tension. The smug grin on his face says it all, and his gaze is fixed on you, never wavering. He delights in teasing you like this, especially when you turn all shy and red as you are now. As soon as breakfast is finished, you hurriedly retreat to your room.

The remainder of the afternoon is spent in bed, absorbed in your e-reader, diving into the latest fantasy romance you just bought. For a little while, you allow yourself to escape into someone else's world, a refreshing break from your reality. It feels liberating, providing temporary relief from your worries.

Finally, you venture out of your room, driven by thirst. After a quick shower, you slip into a maroon sweater that drapes over one shoulder, paired with black leggings. The clock nears seven o'clock, and the hallway is starting to darken. Suddenly reminded of the possibility of encountering a demon lurking nearby, you quicken your steps toward the staircase.

At that moment, you encounter Wonwoo. He’s making his way up the final flight of stairs just as you’re about to head down. You freeze in place, captivated by the sight before you. He remains oblivious to your presence, absorbed in his phone. It appears he has just come from a swim; his hair is damp, and he wears a grey bathrobe. The belt is tied securely, yet the V neckline reveals his bare chest.

You feel a flutter in your lower abdomen as you continue to gaze at him. This man possesses impressively broad shoulders, the kind that makes you feel petite, especially with water droplets glistening on his skin, he's looking even more lickable than usual. What are you talking about?! You shake your head, pushing that thought far, far away. You can't help but feel that the unexpected encounter this morning truly affected you deeply.

"Oh, hey," Wonwoo offers a greeting as he arrives at the top of the stairs, shifting his focus from his phone to you. You respond with a gentle hum and continue to walk past him. He tsks and reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you back.

“How long are you planning to ignore me?" He asks, sounding gruff.

“I'm not ignoring you," You deny. "I was just going to head downstairs to get something to drink."

"Then explain why you're hiding in your room doing who knows what for the whole fucking day? Is that what you're planning to do for the rest of your stay here?" He asks.

"No," You respond softly. Wonwoo gazes at your face as if he's trying to uncover a hidden answer. "Is it because of what happened this morning? You walking in on me naked?" He surmises.

Yes and yes.

You feel your cheek growing hot, and Wonwoo notices. "Come on, it's just a dick. Pretty sure you've seen one before," He teases.

“That's not just a dick, that's-" The words trail away and you press your lips together to stop yourself. A slow smirk pulls at his lips. "What?" he asks. That's one hell of a dick, you say internally, refusing to voice it out. The man doesn't need an extra boost to his ego. Instead, you raise your chin and say, "What do you want from me?"

"Listen," he says, shifting back to a serious tone. "The reason we’re both trapped here is because we need to be. I’m doing this for my father, and you’re here because you don’t want to disappoint yours. The decision to marry me is yours, and you have three weeks to think it over. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves while you’re here."

He’s right. You can’t spend the next twenty-eight days holed up in your room with your nose buried in a book.

"What do you propose we do then?" you inquire.

"I have a game in mind that I think we should play," he suggests.

“Game?” you inquire, tilting your head in curiosity.

“Absolutely. This game will help us reconnect.”

“We already know each other, Wonwoo," you reply. "We were friends, remember?”

“That was six years ago. People change,” he states matter-of-factly.

That's true. “Alright, how do we play?”

“I’m sure you’re familiar with this game: Truth or Dare. You choose one of the two. If you select truth, I’ll ask you a question that you must answer honestly—no lies or dodging. If you refuse to answer, you’ll have to complete a dare. Each person gets three turns a day. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“I’ll go first,” he begins. “So, truth or dare?”

You take a moment to reflect. Opting for a dare feels like too much of a gamble. Wonwoo can be quite the trickster at times. What if he challenges you to do something outrageous, like a lap dance or something equally embarrassing?

"Truth," you finally decide.

"Are you currently seeing anyone?" he inquires.

"No." A look of relief washes over his face as he smiles. "Now it's your turn."

"Truth or Dare?" you ask, secretly hoping he will choose the latter. You feel a strong urge to dare him to lick your toes or wash your feet, just to annoy him.

“Truth,” he responds instead.

“Ugh,” you groan. Honestly, you can't come up with anything clever to ask right now, so you settle on, "What's your hobby?" He rolls his eyes. "Boring."

"Just answer the question, Wonwoo," you say impatiently, eager to wrap this up and escape from him. "So, what's your hobby?" you ask once more.

"Sex. I love sex. If that's a hobby."

"Why am I even surprised?" you murmur to yourself, your tone quite flat.

"My turn now," he continues. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"I'm just curious..." He pauses for a brief moment. "Are you a virgin?"

You stare directly into his eyes. It's not that you are a virgin, but it's also not his place to ask. "Why do you want to know?" you respond.

He shrugs casually. "Just for future reference."

"What does that even mean?"

"Come on, do you really think nothing will happen between us over the next three weeks?"

How bold of him! "I'm not going to sleep with you if that's what you're implying."

"Ouch." He clutches his chest, feigning injury. "I thought you'd be interested after catching a glimpse of my human sausage."

"You did not just say human sausage." You press your lips together, trying to suppress laughter.

"What should I call it then?" He raises his brows. "Mushroom head? Semen maker? Corn Dog?”

"Please, stop," You say through your pressed lips. He grins. "What about cum factory? Sounds good?" That's all there is to it. You let out a hearty laugh that is quite unbecoming, resembling a pig's snort so closely that you must turn away to conceal your face.

"Do you want me to continue, babe?" He teases. "I can go on all night." You shake your head jerkily. "No! no more dick talk, please." It takes a moment for you to regain your composure. Taking a deep breath, you turn back to face him. Wonwoo chuckles at the rosy flush on your cheeks from all the laughter. Honestly, he's been eager to see you laugh like this; you look so stunning that you nearly leave him breathless.

"You haven't answered my question," He says. "Are you a virgin?"

"I'm not telling you," You refuse.

"Well, you know the consequence when you can't answer a question.”

"Alright, I'll take on a dare. What do you want me to do?" Wonwoo presses his lips together, taking his time to contemplate. "You’re not going to ask me to kiss you, are you?" You guessed correctly; it's the only thing that pops into your mind. "That's not what I had in mind," he says, locking his gaze on your eyes and then your lips. "Though I wouldn't be opposed to it."

You swallow hard, feeling a wave of nerves. "Then what do you want me to do?"

His eyes rise to meet yours. "Sing me that song."

"What song?"

"Baby.." He starts singing, "Shark doo doo doo doo."

"Ugh, go fuck yourself, Wonwoo!" You snarl and start walking off down the hall.

"Where are you going, babe?" He asks through his laughter. You flip him the middle finger and keep walking.

𓂃۶ৎ

You’ve been here for ten days, and it’s beginning to dawn on you that your stay isn’t as unpleasant as you initially imagined. Your books and the maids provide comforting company in Wonwoo's absence. However, when he is home, he either intentionally teases you, flirts with you at every opportunity, or instigates a game of Truth or Dare. It’s evident that you both have formed a bond through this game, though recently, his questions have varied widely, swinging from trivial to rather inappropriate.

What's your favorite movie? (Shrek)

Do you believe in Aliens? (Nope)

What do you like about me? (Nothing)

You were, of course, being dishonest. You simply didn’t want him to become too arrogant about it.

Do you have a Daddy kink? (What do you think?)

There are moments when you ask questions without much thought, just wanting to move on, and then there are times when your curiosity is genuine. Through this playful game, albeit silly, you learn so much about Wonwoo—ranging from significant details, like his decision to leave his architecture career to take over his father's company, to lighter anecdotes, such as how his ex-girlfriend broke up with him because he pours his milk before his cereal. Just ten days ago, he was merely an acquaintance; now he has become a friend—the kind who annoys you at times, yet you can't stay upset with for long.

𓂃۶ৎ

It's a Friday morning, and you find yourself alone in the dining room. Wonwoo has left for work after sharing a quick breakfast with you, a routine that has developed since you started your stay. He'll return for dinner later in the evening. As you sip your tea, your phone lights up with a message from your dad, saying, 'The lawyer will be in touch soon. If there's anything you'd like to add to the contract, please let him know.'

It appears your dad has engaged a lawyer to assist in drafting a prenuptial agreement. You don't quite grasp the urgency. To be honest, you haven't really contemplated what will happen after the three weeks are up, but you aren't one to defy your father's wishes. With a resigned sigh, you pick up your phone and respond with an "Okay" and a "Thank you, Dad."

Later that evening, you finally draft a few terms you'd like to negotiate, typing them out in the notes section of your iPad. Now, you're pondering whether to discuss them with Wonwoo before sending the file to your lawyer. After a brief moment of reflection, you reach for your phone to send him a text.

[9:06pm] You: My room, now. [9:06pm] Jeon W.: You think I'm your dog? [9:07pm] You: Can you see me in my room, please? :) [9:07pm] Jeon W.: What for? [9:08pm] You: I want to show you something. [9:08pm] Jeon W.: You, naked? [9:09pm] You: Maybe.

In an instant, you hear the familiar sound of his door opening and closing, accompanied by the rhythm of his footsteps. Finally, the door to your room swings open, revealing Wonwoo in a simple white t-shirt and black shorts. His tousled hair falls gently over his eyes, which look so inviting that you can't help but want to run your fingers through them. When his gaze meets yours, you can't help but giggle at the look of disappointment that washes over his face upon realizing you’re not naked. With a grunt, Wonwoo mutters something quietly under his breath.

"Come sit with me," you respond before looking down at your iPad. The door clicks shut, and he approaches you. He stands beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts as he gazes down at you. "What made you invite me to your room, princess?" he inquires. "Please tell me we are finally doing the deed? Because I am so fucking ready."

You roll your eyes. "Why do you have to relate everything to sex?"

“If you didn't invite me here for naughty purposes, what for then?" He asks once he is seated next to you on the ottoman. "My father has hired a lawyer for me," you told him. "You know, to help me out with the marriage contract and stuff."

His eyes go round like saucers. "Fuck, we're getting married for real?"

"Oh, I wouldn't count on that," you reply dismissively. His gaze sharpens as he looks at you. "However," you continue, "if I decide to accept this arrangement, there are certain conditions that need to be met." You hand him your iPad. "Take a look at this. I thought it would be wise to go over it together before I send it to my lawyer."

On your iPad, there's a bullet-point list of your negotiation terms. They aren't phrased in legal jargon, but that's something for the lawyer to address, not you.

I get to finish my studies and find a job of my choosing here.

We move to a new place (preferably a villa and NOT haunted)

I want a pet pig.

He pauses his reading to gaze at you with a blank expression, as if he believes you’ve lost your mind.

"What? Pigs are intelligent, you know?"

"Where do you think you are? FarmVille?" he replies with a sarcastic tone.

"We could get a teacup pig!" you counter. "Have you seen them? They’re adorable and tiny!"

"There's no such thing as teacup pigs. They are just piglets and will eventually grow into a motherfucking pig. On top of that, they stink and poop like it's no one's business.”

You lift your chin to meet his gaze. "How can you be so certain?"

"I know someone who breeds pigs," he replies. You pause for a moment, then reluctantly acknowledge that Wonwoo is correct; a fully grown pig can easily weigh around 300 kg, making it impractical to keep one in the house.

"Alright, I'll remove that option," you say, giving in. Wonwoo notices the slight pout forming on your lips and the disappointment etched on your face. He feels a twinge of guilt for disappointing you, and it tugs at his heart.

"Is there another pet you'd like to have?" he asks gently, adding, "Just nothing that belongs on a farm... or in a jungle."

You look up at him with bright, hopeful eyes. "What about a kitten or a puppy?" you suggest. Wonwoo beams at you. "We can definitely do that," he agrees, before turning his attention back to your iPad.

In the event of an extramarital affair, I have the right to leave the marriage. We got a divorce with no contest.

Wonwoo gazes at you once more, his expression a mystery. "Do you really think I would cheat on you?"

You find yourself at a loss for words. Having faced abandonment at a young age, you've learned to be wary of those around you. You've grown up convinced that people will eventually lose interest and leave, just like your parents did.

“I hope you don't take it the wrong way," you reassure him. "I'm not implying that you're untrustworthy; it's simply that I don't know you well enough to place my trust in you." A look of understanding crosses his face, and he nods. "That’s fair," he replies, redirecting his focus to the screen.

With a look of concentration, his lips purse as he studies the bullet points. You lean in to see better as he taps the edit icon in the bottom right corner of the screen, causing the keyboard to pop up, and his fingers begin to move.

In the event of an extramarital affair (never going to happen), I have the right to leave the marriage. As a penalty, 100% of Jeon Wonwoo's assets will be handed over to me.

You read and reread the section he has just revised. "Are you serious?" You stare at him, eyes wide in disbelief. "You're giving me complete ownership of your property?"

He nods with an ease that suggests it's no big deal to him. "Regardless of whether I have an affair, you’ll still receive fifty percent of everything I acquire from the moment you say yes."

If he’s attempting to entice you, it's working to some extent. You won’t deny that his offer is incredibly tempting. Wonwoo's assets are immense, and with that kind of wealth, you could finally establish a literacy organization and open those free schools you’ve always dreamed of.

"I'll have my lawyer prepare the prenup as soon as you make a decision," he states.

"Oh, okay," you mumble, still in disbelief.

"What’s next?" he mutters to himself, redirecting his attention to the screen.

"I want children, and I get to name all of them." You’ve pondered long and hard about including that clause. You know Wonwoo will tease you when he sees it, but you push your embarrassment aside. You've always wanted kids, and it's crucial that he supports the idea before you commit to marriage.

He raises an amused eyebrow, a smirk forming on one side of his mouth. "Babies, huh?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Why? Don’t you want kids?"

He shakes his head and turns to set the iPad down on the mattress behind him. When he looks back at you, you respond with a confused expression. "What does—" you mimic his earlier gesture, shaking your head, "that means?"

"It means if you want children, I can give you children. But there's an issue," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps flex, and it's hard to ignore. Damn him. Stop staring! you scold yourself. Look up! You force yourself to meet his gaze. "What’s the issue?"

“How can we have children if you keep running away every time I get close?" he asks. "You won’t even let me touch you."

"I'm not going to run," you insist, looking away.

"I don't believe you." Determined to prove him wrong, you lift your chin and meet his eyes. "Try me."

A moment of silence stretches between you, creating a charged atmosphere. His gaze is dark and intense, hinting at something more intimate.

"Come sit on my lap," he finally says. Your eyes drop to his thighs, and you gulp nervously. Slowly, you rise from your seat and stand in front of him, glancing between him and his lap, hesitating.

Wonwoo watches you, his heart racing as you finally lower yourself onto his lap. Once seated, he places a hand on your back, resting his palm on the curve of your waist to steady you in case you move. This is the closest you’ve ever been, and he’s reluctant to let go. A stretched silence envelops you as Wonwoo studies your profile intently, while you glance down at your fingers, nervously twiddling your thumbs.

"What now?" You say, trying to defuse the awkwardness.

“Put your arms around me, sweetheart," he softly whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The warmth of his low voice raises goosebumps along the back of your neck. Normally, you would scold him for calling you sweetheart, as it feels incredibly patronizing. However, these aren’t ordinary circumstances, and you find yourself too anxious to speak. Instead, you take a deep, shaky breath and press forward. As you encircle your arms around Wonwoo's shoulders, he gazes directly into your eyes.

If you are any other woman in this situation, he would have pulled you in for a kiss already. But you are not just any woman. And it doesn't help that he has no fucking idea whether you're attracted to him or not. He studies you for a moment, his own gaze is twitchy, showing slight hesitation.

"Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" he whispers softly.

"Just a bit," you respond quietly. "But it's not a bad thing."

He maintains eye contact as he takes a deep breath. "If I were to touch you, would you push me away?"

"It depends on where you touch," you answer, your voice barely above a whisper. Noticing your tension, Wonwoo feels uncertain about where to begin. The last thing he wants is to frighten you away with his advances, but the urge to kiss you is so fucking strong.

He keeps his gaze fixed on you. Gradually, almost hesitantly, he raises his hand and glides his fingertips along your jawline, cradling your face. "Is this alright?" he asks, searching your eyes.

His hand feels warm against your skin, and his touch is unexpectedly gentle. You let out a sigh and nod. "It's alright."

Wonwoo's lips curve into a smile, as if a weight has been lifted. "You have such a tiny face, baby," he muses, stroking the back of his thumb across your cheek. "It fits perfectly in my hand."

At this, you scoff. "Any guy would say something like, ‘You have such a beautiful face or lovely eyes.’"

"You know I'm not like any other guy."

"That's true," you reply, a soft smile gracing your lips. "I've never encountered anyone quite like you."

Only now do you realize how close your faces are. There's an unexpected tenderness and intimacy in his gaze, and to your own surprise, you find yourself enjoying it. You appreciate his affection.

"If you keep looking at me like that," he says, noticing your dazed expression. You blink, only to find yourself captivated by the intensity of his stare. "I'm afraid I won't be able to resist much longer."

"H-how am I looking at you?" you ask, as he gently brushes his thumb over your lower lip. "Like you want me to kiss you," he whispers.

Your heart races, and a warm blush spreads across your pale cheeks. He leans in, closer and closer, while your mind spins like a carousel. You realize you should push him away and say no, yet your body feels immobilized. It’s as if he has cast a spell, leaving you frozen in place.

The last thing you see before closing your eyes is how near his face is to yours, and then darkness envelops you as you feel the softness of his lips brush against yours. Stiff as a board, you’re surprised to find he feels just as tense. Neither of you moves your lips. This isn't what you envisioned kissing Wonwoo would be like; it almost feels like a first kiss again because you're unsure of what to do.

Should you open your mouth? Pull him closer? Or something else?

After a few seconds, Wonwoo finally pulls back. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, but it’s inscrutable. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you try to interpret the expression on his face.

Is he disappointed? Oh god, are you a bad kisser?

“It’s late,” he says somewhat coldly, avoiding your eyes. “I should probably head out now.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” you reply, quickly unclasping your arms from around his neck and sliding off his lap. Turning your back to him as you stand, you feel too embarrassed to face him after what just occurred.

You both exchange a brief goodnight without making eye contact and then he disappears from your sight.

𓂃۶ৎ

The past few days have been quite overwhelming for Wonwoo. Since his father announced his retirement, he has had to step up and assume the role of CEO at the company. This means he’s faced with an increasing number of meetings and engagements to attend. In fact, he is currently heading to his third meeting of the day. It’s frustrating because he’s unable to spend as much time with you as he wishes.

On a brighter note, things between you two have been progressing positively. Wonwoo has noticed that, for the first time since your arrival, your disagreements feel less like disdain and more like playful banter. Yet, he’s still uncertain about where you both stand at this moment.

What will happen when the three weeks come to an end? Will you pack your bags and leave, or will you decide to stay? Fuck.

The thought of you leaving hits him hard, like a punch to the gut. He confesses that he's developed strong feelings for you—intensely so. It may seem foolish since you've only been together for two weeks, yet you have become the first thought that crosses his mind when he wakes up and the last before he drifts off to sleep. Perhaps it's because you are gradually lowering your defenses around him, allowing him to see the authentic you.

He recognizes that your relationship with your parents has been complicated. Abandoned at a young age, you carry the weight of a broken heart. He can hardly fathom the pain you endured when your mother left and your father sent you away. He understands that these experiences have left you feeling rejected, unwanted, and often inadequate; it's no wonder you tend to be shy and reserved around others.

Everyone except him.

Regardless of whether you have positive feelings for him or not, he remains unaware of your true sentiments. One thing he does recognize is your fearless nature when it comes to expressing your opinions or calling him out when necessary; perhaps that’s why he enjoys provoking you so much. Although only a few days have passed, he already longs for the playful banter and friendly arguments you shared. He misses the mischievous sparkle in your eyes when you throw a comeback his way. He yearns for the delightful sound of your laughter when he succeeds in making you smile, feeling as if he has just achieved a remarkable victory. Yet, above all else, he simply misses you.

The last conversation you had was on the night he kissed you. And he fucking ruined everything. He was completely at a loss about what had just happened to him. He had never felt this nervous around a girl before. He knows he’s a great kisser, but the instant he pressed his lips against yours, it was as if he had never kissed anyone in his life. Still, his heart raced in overdrive every time he thought about how your lips felt against his. He could have performed much better, but there’s no use in dwelling on the past. All he knows is that the next time an opportunity like that arises, he promises to kiss you passionately and make it the best kiss you've ever experienced. And he hopes that next time comes soon because time is slipping away for the two of you.

𓂃۶ৎ

Wonwoo should feel relieved now that he has completed his business project, but instead, he feels a sense of unease. That’s why he chose to skip the company dinner and head straight home. As he drives, an overwhelming sense of dread washes over him, as if he knows something is amiss but can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

"Where is she?" he asks one of the housekeepers when he walks into the house.

"She’s been in her room all day, Sir," she replies.

Wonwoo quietly mutters a quick thank you before hurrying up the stairs. He walks down the dimly lit hallway, pauses at your door, knocks, and waits. When no response comes, he decides not to knock again. Instead, he pushes the door open and steps into your room. His gaze quickly lands on your bed, and he lets out a huge sigh of relief upon spotting the lump beneath the covers.

Is she already asleep? he wonders, glancing at his wristwatch, which reads five-thirty. That's quite early. He approaches the bed and stands beside it. Gently, he pulls back the covers, and his heart races when he finally sees you. Your face is mostly hidden by your hair, prompting him to brush it aside, only to be taken aback. Your skin feels incredibly hot to the touch, and your face is damp with sweat.

Wonwoo kneels beside the bed and presses the back of his hand against your neck. "Sweetheart," he calls softly. "You're burning up, baby. Are you okay?"

You murmur something he can't quite hear, and as he observes your lips moving, he notices that you are trembling uncontrollably. Oh fuck. Panic rises in his chest, and he immediately places his arms under your body to scoop you up.

You groan at the abrupt movement, your heavy eyelids fluttering open to meet his gaze. You appear taken aback. "Wh-what are you doing, Wonwoo?"

"I'm taking you to the doctor," he replies, keeping his eyes fixed ahead as he strides toward the door.

"Put me down, I'm fine."

"Don't argue with me," he counters, still not glancing at you. "I won't accept a refusal."

You roll your eyes. "You're acting like I'm having a heart attack or something… it’s just a fever, Wonwoo; it'll probably go a-."

Suddenly, Wonwoo halts and looks down at you with such a stern expression that it leaves you speechless. You blink up at him, feeling a bit flustered. "I'm taking you to the doctor, and that's final," he states, leaving no room for debate. With a frustrated huff, you finally concede, your lips pouting slightly.

Wonwoo felt a rush of warmth coursing through his veins. He inhaled deeply, battling the sudden desire to press his lips against yours. A sense of mild shame washed over him, knowing you were unwell and that he shouldn’t be having such thoughts. Perhaps it was just because he missed you so intensely because how does someone manage to look so goddamn kissable even when they are sick, it's ridiculous. Damn her.

"Can you at least put me down? I can walk just—" Your eyes widen as Wonwoo suddenly leans closer.

"Do I need to kiss you to shut you up?" he murmurs just above your lips. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as he notices the blush spreading. A warm feeling fills his chest, and a smile appears on his face.

Beautiful little brat.

It has been a while since you last saw Wonwoo, and now he’s carrying you like a charming prince, convinced of his own charm. And now he’s even suggesting he’ll kiss you? You’re at a loss for words, your thoughts muddled and heavy.

As Wonwoo carries you down the stairs, you choose silence. A housekeeper gives you a concerned glance, and you manage a faint smile to reassure her that you’re alright.

“We’ll be out for a bit,” Wonwoo informs her as he strides through the open door toward the driveway where his car awaits. You remain silent even as he places you gently in the passenger seat and fastens your safety belt. He then walks around to the driver’s side, and you watch quietly as he starts the engine and secures his own seatbelt.

Despite your illness, his good looks continue to captivate you. Attraction is indeed a mysterious force. Seeing him in his work attire always ignites a spark, and now, with his suit jacket removed and only a white dress shirt on—buttons undone—it's even more potent. You also realize this is your first time witnessing Wonwoo drive; typically, it's been Mr. Lee, his chauffeur, who has taken you both around.

“Where is Mr—” You gasp, pressing your lips together as you suddenly remember his earlier words. Do I have to kiss you to shut you up? His voice echoes in your mind, causing your cheeks to flush once more.

Wonwoo glances at you, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. A moment later, understanding seems to wash over him, and he chuckles. "You can talk, baby. I'm not going to kiss you." He averts his gaze back to the road ahead. "Not now."

Not now...

As you attempt to compose yourself, a brief silence envelops the car. His words are making you increasingly nervous. You clear your throat and finally inquire, "Where is Mr. Lee?"

"His wife went into labor yesterday, so I'm giving him some time off." You don’t press for more details; you simply lack the energy to continue.

As the car halts at the first traffic light, Wonwoo glances at you. His expression softens as he takes in your frail condition. He gently reaches out to touch your forehead, wincing at the heat radiating from your skin. "Poor baby," he murmurs, lovingly brushing his knuckles against your cheek.

For reasons you can't quite comprehend, his tender gesture brings tears to your eyes; this kind of care is something you've longed for throughout your life.

"Are you taking me to the hospital?" you inquire.

He shakes his head lightly. "I'm taking you to Mingyu's clinic."

"Mingyu, as in your friend Mingyu?"

"Exactly."

Kim Mingyu is likely the most attractive doctor you've ever encountered. Not only that, but he is also warm and approachable. Just ten minutes into your appointment, you find yourself genuinely liking him. However, your feelings shift when he says, "I need to give you a shot to bring down your fever."

You don’t want to appear cowardly, but everyone has their fears, and for you, it's needles. This is why you never got your ears pierced, unlike everyone else. And why you were hesitant to visit the doctor.

Your face pales, and it must show because Doctor Kim is now smiling. "Are you scared?" he asks. You respond with a small nod and a shy smile. He chuckles. "What a cutie."

Almost instantly, Wonwoo clears his throat beside you. "Doctor Kim..." he says calmly, though it feels more like a warning than anything else.

The tall doctor smiles to himself as he turns away to gather the necessary tools for your injection. Meanwhile, you nervously fidget with your thumbs, watching him pick up a syringe.

Wonwoo observes you the entire time, wanting to alleviate your anxiety but unsure how to do so. Despite his uncertainty, he gently places his hand over yours while his other hand softly strokes your back. When you glance at him, he offers you a warm and reassuring smile. "It's okay," he comforts you. "Just focus on me."

You follow his advice, and soon you feel a chilly sensation on your upper arm as Doctor Kim wipes the alcohol swab across your skin. Anticipating what's next, you shut your eyes tightly and hold your breath. You stifle a wince as the needle pierces your skin, refusing to sound like a child.

"All done," the doctor announces after applying a plaster to your arm. Opening your eyes, you see Wonwoo still watching you with concern. "Are you alright?" he asks, gently brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You manage a small nod. "I'm okay." Wonwoo smiles and gives you a gentle pat on the head. It's a simple gesture, yet it stirs all sorts of feelings within you. This prompts Mingyu to clear his throat, and you shift your attention back to the doctor.

"You'll feel better soon. You've just been really stressed lately," he says. "Let me write you a prescription for your headache, and then you’ll be good to go. Make sure to rest and try not to worry too much."

"I will, thank you, Doctor Kim."

He looks up from his prescription pad. "You can just call me Min—wait, how old are you again?"

"I'm twenty-one."

"Just like Hana," he smiles fondly, leaving you curious about her identity. "You can call me Mingyu oppa, then," he adds.

“Oppa my ass," Wonwoo snorted. "She doesn’t even call me oppa.”

"Well, that’s your issue," the doctor retorts.

"Are we finished or not?" Wonwoo asks impatiently.

"Here," the doctor hands you a piece of paper to take to the pharmacy. "Get well soon, pretty."

"Thank you, oppa," you tease, bursting into giggles as Wonwoo groans. He frowns at you. "I’m older than you too; why don’t you ever call me oppa?"

You shrug. "Maybe because you don’t act like one to me." The doctor snickers, while Wonwoo scowls. "What does an oppa behave like, exactly?"

"Like a man? I suppose."

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you implying that I act like a child?"

You flash him a playful grin, gasping as he hooks his foot around your stool leg and pulls you closer. With his arms brushing against yours, he leans in, whispering near your ear.

"Should I take you home and show you just how manly I can be?" he murmurs. Mingyu must have overheard because he started spluttering.

"You're disgusting, Wonwoo..." he coughs between words. Your face flushes bright red, and you smack him lightly on the chest in retaliation. Wonwoo grins at your embarrassment.

"Let’s head home, baby." He takes your hand and leads you toward the door.

"Wonwoo," the doctor calls just as he’s about to open the door. Wonwoo releases your hand and turns to face his friend. "Yeah?"

"Hana is back," Mingyu says.

A tense silence ensues as you glance between the two men. "Oh, how is she doing?" Wonwoo asks, his tone serious, heightening your curiosity.

Who is she? A friend, perhaps?

"She’s... she’s doing well," Mingyu replies. "We should catch up soon. Are you free to join us for the gathering this Sunday at Chan’s place?" You look at Wonwoo, waiting for his response. His silence suggests he’s unsure, maybe even reluctant.

"It’s been a while, Jeon; she really misses you," Mingyu encourages. "Joshua and the rest will be there too."

"Sure...," Wonwoo consents. "I’ll be there."

As he leads you out of the room, you notice a shift in his demeanor; he seems unusually quiet. Unable to hold back your curiosity any longer, you ask, "Who’s Hana?"

"His little sister," is all he replies. Your thoughts drift to this person named Hana. You picture her as beautiful, just like her handsome brother, and wonder about their relationship and why Wonwoo hesitated to accept Mingyu's dinner invitation.

Did something happen between them?

While your curiosity is piqued, you remind yourself that it’s not your business. If Wonwoo wants you to know, he will tell you. So, you push those thoughts aside and head to the pharmacy to pick up your meds. By the time you leave Mingyu's clinic, the sky has darkened. Whatever the doctor injected must've worked wonders because you feel less lethargic as Wonwoo leads you to his car.

"You have a nice car," you say absent-mindedly, smoothing your hand over the sleek dashboard.

"Do you want one?" he asks, turning to gauge your reaction.

"Wh-what?" you squeak. How could he ask that so casually? This car must be incredibly expensive. But then again, this man is loaded. "No," you quickly add. "I don’t even know how to drive."

"You can learn," he replies.

Getting a driver's license is on your bucket list this year, and the thought of checking that off makes you excited. "Will you... teach me?" you ask hesitantly, considering how busy he has been lately.

"Of course," he says. "How about we start this Sunday?"

You can’t contain your excitement as you respond, "Okay."

He smiles at your enthusiasm, then hesitates, as if unsure about something.

"What is it, Wonwoo?" you encourage.

"Do you want to come with me to the gathering this Sunday night?"

"The one Mingyu invited you to?" you ask, tilting your head. He nods in agreement. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"I’d be thrilled if you could. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to my friends, but I know being around a group makes you uncomfortable. So, you don’t have to say yes if it doesn’t feel right."

You smile at his rambling, and he seems to realize it too, smiling shyly as he rubs the back of his neck. It’s a side of him you haven’t seen before—refreshing and endearing.

"Yes, Wonwoo, I’ll be there for you," you say willingly, knowing you might feel anxious that day, but also trusting that Wonwoo will be there. He returns your smile with gratitude. "Thank you."

The car falls into a comfortable silence as you gaze out the window, enjoying the night view of the city lights. There’s something romantic about it, and you swear you feel a flutter every time you catch Wonwoo’s reflection in the side window as he glances at you.

When the car stops at a red light, you feel the warmth of Wonwoo’s hand on your thigh, startling you. You look down at his hand, then back up to find his gaze fixed on you.

"What do you want for dinner?" he asks, lightly tapping your skin with his index finger. Amidst your nervousness, you focus and respond.

"Can we get McDonald's?"

"You're still sick, baby," he gives your thigh a gentle squeeze.

"Let’s get something healthier, okay?" You nearly start hyperventilating. You’re unsure about the sudden affection he’s showing today. All the contact feels intimate, making your stomach flip.

"Should we get something with soup instead?" he suggests, pulling you from your thoughts. "I know a place that serves great Samgyetang."

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Wonwoo acknowledges that he’s being unusually touchy today, but he knows he has nothing to lose. Time is short, and with uncertainty looming over the next three weeks, he doesn’t want to waste any moments with you.

He can’t deny that his feelings for you have deepened, especially after spending the day together. This is why he needs to know if you're comfortable with his advances, as eventually, he wants more. First, he wants to kiss you, then take you to his bed and explore all the things he's dreamed of doing with you.

Baby steps. He reminds himself. You don’t want to scare her off. Presently, you and Wonwoo are in the lift, heading to the Korean restaurant on the top floor. He glances down at your hands, still intertwined.

"Truth or Dare?" he initiates. You look up at him and smile softly, warming his heart as he realizes you must have missed playing this silly game as much as he does.

"Dare," you choose. It’s not the answer Wonwoo expected, but that’s fine; he has a plan. With a slow smirk spreading across his face, he says, "Call me Wonwoo oppa." You make a face of disgust at his request.

"I changed my mind. Truth." Even better, Wonwoo thinks.

He looks down at your hands again. "Do you like this?" He lifts them to his chest. "Me holding your hand—do you like it?" You take a moment to think, wrestling with different answers before finally nodding and murmuring, "Yes."

Wonwoo feels like he’s just won a trophy. “I love holding your hand too,” he wants to shout in victory, but that would be too much.

God, this girl is driving me crazy.

Who would have thought that a guy like him would be so excited over something as simple as hand-holding? It’s not even about sex. He chuckles and shakes his head at himself.

You give him a curious frown. "Are you okay?"

"Do you miss Uni?" he deflects your question. "Your friends... they’re all in LA, right?"

"I do miss learning, but I don’t miss living there," you reply, a hint of sadness in your smile. "It’s quite lonely there."

Something about that tugs at his heartstrings. He doesn’t want you to feel lonely. "What about your friends?"

"I only have one close friend, Vernon." There’s warmth in your voice when you mention him. "But he’s not in the same classes as me, so we don’t see each other often. We call every day, though."

"That’s good," Wonwoo smiles. "You’ll make more friends this Sunday. Joshua and the others will probably bring their girlfriends."

You look unsure, and he senses your self-doubt. "They’re all good people," he assures. "You’ll like them, and I know they’ll like you too." Just like I do.

You smile shyly. "I hope so."

𓂃۶ৎ

Do you know that feeling you get when you are in the last chapter of a good book? That longing for more? That feeling of not wanting to say goodbye? You feel the same way when you walk down the hallway towards your room with Wonwoo beside you. Though it is rather presumptuous of you to say, you'd like to believe that Wonwoo feels the same way, too. Because even if he isn't talking, he is walking slower than usual, as if he doesn't want to say goodbye to you and to this night.

Today has been a special one for the both of you. A lot has happened in the past hours spent together. And if there's one thing you realize you realize that your feelings for Wonwoo are growing. There's no point denying it anymore because it is there. Although you can't help the fear that grips you every time you think about the possibility of him leaving. But is it so wrong to hope for a happy ending? For once you just want to throw caution to the wind and enjoy what is given to you in this moment.

"We're here," Wonwoo announces as we reach the end of the hallway where your room is.

You turn to stare up at him. "Thank you for today." you smile, leaving a moment of still silence before you add, "And dinner… I had a great time."

"Me too." The silence continues to stretch as he drops his gaze to your mouth and lingers. The butterflies in your belly started flapping their wings all at once. You watch as he swallows and somewhere inside, you're hoping he would kiss you or make a move of some sort. But… He lifts his gaze and lets go of your hand. "You should get some rest."

You feel a pang of disappointment at the sudden loss of contact. You're confused. One moment he is being all touchy, and the next moment he is pulling back like this.

"I’m going for a swim," He says. "I'll be at the pool if you need me."

You force a smile. "Good night, Wonwoo."

"Rest well, baby."

You enter your room and close the door behind you, exhaling. What was this sudden awkwardness and hesitation between us? You wonder to yourself as you walk into the bathroom.

After a long shower, you get in bed and try to get yourself to sleep but your mind doesn't seem to allow you to. You are still confused, and frustrated. And as you lay there in silence, it suddenly occurs to you that there is a possibility Wonwoo might think you're inexperienced when it comes to sex. You remember him asking about it before; if you're a virgin, and you had refused to answer. He must've thought so, of course, considering how you always get all shy and jitterish every time he touches you.

You sit up in bed, a hopeful smile spreading across your face when every thought in your head seems to fall into place. So this is why Wonwoo has been so unsure to make a move. Because he doesn't want to scare you off. Because he is waiting for you to be ready. Something warm moves through your chest.

What a sweet soul he is. Has he always been this way? Or are you only discovering this side of him because you've fallen for him?

You hop off the bed, feeling unsure and nervous, yet there's this longing so deep that it is making your heart pound. You've never moved so fast in your life as you hurry to change into your nude colored bathing suit before putting on a bathrobe. You give your appearance a quick check in the mirror before striding out of your room. Rushing down the stairs, you ponder through the things you are going to say to Wonwoo when you see him. In the midst of your nervousness, you can't think of anything. So you can only hope that you'll find the right words to say when you see him, soon.

The sliding door that leads to the backyard pool is left slightly ajar. You hear the splashing sound of the water as you step out into the open. The backyard is slightly dim but you easily catch sight of Wonwoo's naked back. Your gaze slides along his bare shoulders and you feel your stomach clenches at how broad his physique is. He has his upper arms stretched along the pool ledge, staring thoughtfully up at the starry sky. You wonder what, or who is in his mind at this very moment, and you find yourself praying that it is you he is thinking about.

You glance down at yourself. Your hands, they are slightly trembling as you untie the knot of your robe, letting it fall freely over your shoulders to the ground. Staring down at your semi-naked self, doubt washes over you instantly. What if Wonwoo doesn't like what he sees. You are sure he has been with many women before, and for a guy as attractive as him, he must have high standards. You feel the sudden urge to run away, back into your bedroom and hide, but it's too late now because when you lift your head, you realize Wonwoo is already staring.

Your breath catches when you meet his eyes. He stares at your features first, then slowly, his gaze drops and drags down to your body, drinking every inch of you. The air around you suddenly feels so thick, and your heart nearly bursts as you watch the lump in his throat rise and fall.

You clear your throat softly to get him to look at your face, and he did. There is tenderness mixed with desire in his eyes, and you're both thrilled and unsure.

"Can I join you?" your voice came out soft.

Wonwoo takes a moment to process your question, then he says, "The water is freezing, baby, I don't want you to get sick again." You press the back of your hand on your neck, checking your body temperature. "My fever has gone down. I'm feeling much better now.”

"Get in then." He says, turning his head around to face the water again.

You walk over to the poolside and lower yourself into a squatting position. Wonwoo feels your presence close to him that made him turn his head towards you again. He keeps his eyes on you as you dip your legs into the water before sliding your body in. The water rises all the way to your collarbone and you shiver at the sudden cold sensation that runs through your body.

"Told you it's cold," Wonwoo mumbles. "Come here, baby." He reaches for your hand underwater and moves you to stand with your back to him.

Butterflies take flight in your stomach. What surprises you most is when he wraps his arms around your waist as he hugs you from behind. “Better?” His whispers in your ear.

"Yeah," you breathe, and despite your racing heart, you let your body relax in his hold.

“I was hoping you'd come and you did." he rests his chin on top of your head. "Did you read my mind, mmh?"

You huff softly. "I can hear you calling my name from up there." Wonwoo chuckles. "Why did you come here though? Can't sleep?"

You hum, leaving a beat of silence before you confess, "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Me too." He says. "I think about you all the time.”

You let out a soft breath as a soft smile tugs at your lips. Here in the quiet, the beating of his heart sounded so clear in your ears, and so do yours. Glancing to your side and up, you find him gazing up at the sky again, seemingly in deep thoughts. In the dimness of the night, the moonlight illuminates his features, strands of wet hair fall over his forehead, and you take the opportunity to study his handsome face. Wonwoo musť've felt you staring because he is lowering his gaze to look at you now. You suddenly feel shy by his closeness, by the soft way he is staring at you.

"What did you do these past few days when I was gone?" He asks out of nowhere, the question random as if he's trying to defuse the thick tension in the air.

"I did a lot of thinking and worrying..." you huff and shake your head. He turns you around to make you look at him. "Worrying about what?"

Your answer might come off silly to him but you decided to be honest. "I thought you were purposely avoiding me because of the kiss...because you didn't enjoy kissing me."

A frown marred his expression. "That's what you were worrying about?"

You show him a small embarrassed smile before dropping your gaze to stare at his chest. "Silly, I know."’

Wonwoo grips your chin and gently tilts your head up, making you look at him again. “That might not be the best kiss, I know, but I enjoyed it." He claims. "I enjoyed kissing you so much I want to do it again," He lowers his gaze to your mouth and swipes the back of his thumb over your bottom lip. "I want to do it now...if you'd let me…”

You blink up at him, the surprise causes your lips to part a little. Wonwoo gazes at you expectantly, waiting for your approval. Then you nod, and that small gesture brings a soft smile to his face. He leans closer and weaves his fingers through your hair. Your eyes flutter close and the butterflies take flight in your stomach when he presses his lips on your lips.

Unlike the first time he kissed you, his mouth is moving more skillfully, more firmly this time. You slide your hands up to the back of his neck and return his kiss with equal passion. He groans into your mouth, the tip of his tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, and you part your mouth in an invitation. Without hesitation, his tongue slides into your mouth to meet yours, and you make a whimpering sound when he bites down on your lower lip, tugging at it as he groans.

His hold around your waist turns bruising and he roughly turns you around to back you against the pool wall. You gasp when he presses his body closer to you, his hands sliding down from your waist to the back of your thighs. You instinctively wrap your legs around his hips, and your chest emerges from the water with the elevation. His hard on is now positioned against your womanhood, and your body reacts in pure instinct, grinding yourself against him with no inhibition.

He grunts into your mouth and from there, the kiss quickly turns wet and dirty. You continue grinding yourself against him, and soon the ache between your legs is getting unbearable. You need more, but to your dismay, Wonwoo pulls his mouth away from you.

You blink at him, panting and confused. "W-why did you stop?” His face is contorted as though he is restraining himself from something. What though?

"If we don't stop," he says, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I'll end up fucking you in this pool and I can't promise l'll be gentle with you, baby.."

“It's okay," your answer came so quickly it surprised him. You bite your lips in a shy smile. "I mean… you don't have to be gentle with me, Wonwoo."

"I don't want to hurt you…” He worries and you smooth your hands over his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips. His eyes flared, and it's making your heart drums with nervous excitement. "I don't know if you know this but I’m not a virgin anymore, so you don't have to, you know, hold back with me."

Wonwoo looks more amused than surprised by your admission. The corner of his lips curled up into a grin. "Are you telling me you like it hard, baby?" Your cheek flares up and he lets out a huff when he notices it.

"Is that why you came to me wearing this?" He lowered his gaze to your bathing suit. You nod.

"Do you like it?"

"I've never seen anything so beautiful," One of his hands hikes up your waistline, cupping your breast before tugging the neckline of your bathing suit to the side until your nipple is exposed.

You swallow heavily. "You're too good to be true, baby…" He glances up, watching you with heated eyes as he rubbed his thumb over your bud. "Do you like it when I touch you here, mmh?" He ended his question with a light pinch on your bud.

You expel a soft moan and Wonwoo takes it as a yes. He keeps his piercing gaze on you as he lowers his head to take your nipple into his hot mouth, his tongue twirling around the tip, teasing you for a while before he draws it in between his teeth in one long pull.

"W-Wonwoo.." you squeeze your legs tighter around his hips, feeling his erection poking deeper against your woman parts. The friction coaxes a low grunts out of him. He lifts his head from your chest to meet your gaze, his eyes smoldered with desire. His free hand is now coasting along your inner thigh, hiking up until his thumb is pressing over your underwear. He pulled the hem aside to reveal your pussy.

"What about this?" He starts to rub his thumb over your clit continuously in a tormentingly slow manner.

"More..." you beg breathily. "Please...," a moan slips when he thrusts two fingers inside you, keeping his eyes on you as he fulfills your wish for more. Your inner wall clenches around his digit with each push.

"So fucking tight..." he murmurs low under his breath as he works his finger in and out of you in a lazy manner. "How long has it been since the last time you're fucked, baby?"

Through your lust-filled haze, you can't even bring yourself to think. So you thoughtlessly mutter, "It's been a while."

His free hand trails from the side of your neck, up, to cup your face, "So delicate and beautiful," his voice thick, brimming with lust as he caresses your cheekbone. "Makes me want to protect and ruin you all at the same time," he let out deep chuckles. "Is that even possible?"

His hand disappears into your hair, and he leans in to kiss you sweet and slow, while his other hand continues to fuck your pussy, as sweet and slowly as his kiss. Although his touch brings pleasure to your body, it isn't enough to relieve that overwhelming ache between your legs, if possible, it only worsens it, making you more needy and desperate. So needy you start whining and moaning to beg for more. So desperate you start rocking your hips against his fingers to take control.

Wonwoo's fingers make a fist around your hair and he tugs it back, making your lips to detach from his. He looks into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense. "Stop it or I'll stop." He warns you.

You still and nod timidly, surprised to discover this dominant side of him, but even more surprised by your own submission. You didn't know you have it in you, considering how much you despise him ordering you around. But maybe it's different during sex, because you find it such a turn on when he takes control like this.

"Good girl," Wonwoo whispers his praise over your mouth. “Now tell me what you want, baby."

You drop your gaze to the hard-on underneath his black swim shorts. Although you can't see it well due to it being underwater, you can feel it damn well and Wonwoo gets the message. He hums and pulls his fingers out of your tight hole, causing a small gasp to fall from your lips. You loosen your thighs around his hips so he could remove his swim shorts. Your breathing slows when he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock. His jaw clenched as he gives it a few pumps before he slaps it hard over your pussy, drawing a lewd purr out of you.

Wonwoo brings his eyes up to stare at you, his dark pupils dilating. "I was planning to take it nice and slow today," He starts rubbing the tip of his cock over your slit and watches as you squirm against him.

"But you...God, you are one hell of a temptation to resist, aren't you?"

“Wonwoo, please.." your breath comes out ragged. "I don't think I can take it any- fuck!" The air is knocked out of you when he roughly slams his cock into you, stretching you so good you cry out a lewd sound of pleasure. You feel so full you can barely breathe, and he isn't even fully inside you yet.

Wonwoo drops his head to your shoulder and you feel his warm heavy pants fanning against your skin. "Baby, you're so tight my cock can barely fit," Wonwoo breathes out harshly and moans when you unconsciously squeeze around his cock. He lifts his head from your shoulder and plants his hand on the pool edge on each side of you.

Your heart nearly beats out of your chest when Wonwoo holds you in his gaze. His jaw is tight and you notice the bulging veins around his neck. He looks so masculine, so thoroughly turned on, and knowing that it is you who made him like this gives you a sense of ease and a little boost of confidence.

Feeling bolder now, you lean forward to put your mouth close to his ear. "Wonwoo." you whisper, parting your lips to pull his earlobe in between your teeth. "Fuck me, please, I can't wait any longer…”

"Jesus," He curses roughly. And when you lean back to stare at him, the heat in his brown eyes is growing hotter. "Where is this side of you coming from?" You chew your bottom lip through a smile. "I think you bring it out of me.”

“Fuck, you're so hot," he says hoarsely, moaning a little when your pussy clenched around his cock. "Hold on to me, baby." He orders, so you do as told, sliding your hands up and slinging them around his shoulder. He presses his lips in a thin line as he slides his cock out of you, leaving just the tip inside you. And with a grunt, he slams his cock deep inside you, until you are hugging every throbbing inch of him. Your fingers dig into his back in a reflex as he lets out a low guttural sound from the back of his throat.

He leans forward to capture your mouth in a hard kiss, and then he is pounding into you, driving his dick deep inside you mercilessly. It almost feels like he's going to rip you apart because he is so big, and you'd never been fucked so hard like this. With each thrust, the water sloshes all around and you are pushed harder against the wall.

You are a mess of moans and whimpers, and if it wasn't for the kiss that's muffling your lewd voice, you'll likely wake the housekeepers from their slumbers.

"How does my cock make you feel, sweetheart?" He whispers through a husky groan as he pumps his thick length in and out of you.

"So good," you say breathlessly over his mouth. "You make me feel so good, Wonwoo."

His thrusts are becoming quicker and harder now. He is fucking you as if he is losing control of himself, like he's a wild animal let loose of its cage. A beast unleashed. And it wasn't long until you feel that knot coiling up in your stomach

“Wonwoo," you panted heavily. "I-I'm close."

“I know, baby," He slips his hand under your stomach. He presses his thumb on your clit and pulls back to watch as he starts rubbing it aggressively. "Cum, cum for me."

A cry, almost a scream tears out of you as your body quakes and shudders against him. Your walls are convulsing around him but he didn't stop pounding his cock into you. Soon enough, you feel him swelling inside you as his orgasm nears. His long, guttural groan sounded in your ears, and with one last thrust, he jerks against you and unloads his cum into your pussy.

“Fuck," Wonwoo grunts harshly before he slumps into you. He drops his head to your shoulder as breathes heavily. Your thighs loosen around his hips and you drop your legs to the pool tiles, too languid to hold them up. As you try to moderate your breathing, reality begins to sink. Wonwoo has just cummed inside of you, without protection. Fear grips you tight in your chest.

"Wonwoo," you pat on his back and speak into his ear. "...we didn't use a condom."

He lifts his head, his chest inflating and deflating as he tries to regain his composure. "Don't worry, I'm clean." He finally says.

"It's not that," you explain. "I'm not on the pill." Wonwoo considers it calmly, as if you didn't just tell him the 'news' most men fear the most.

"One time is probably okay." He assures. "But if you end up pregnant, I promise I'll take care of you...and our baby."

Your heart soars. "Our… baby?" you voice out softly, half in disbelief, half liking how the words sounded when he said it.

"I just filled my sperm in your vagina, whose baby would it be if it's not ours?"

Your body shook as you laughed. No one you know has ever used the word 'sperm' and 'vagina' in a sentence. God, you really adore this funny and sexy man. You give him a smile. "You know it's funny how we do things the reverse way."

"Reverse way?"

You nod. "Usually, people fall in love first before they get married and make babies, but for us...it's the other way around."

"I don't think so," Wonwoo disagrees. "Because I think l've passed the first step."

"First step?" you ask. "What do you mean?" His answer is to lean in and kiss you. Sweet and softly. A complete opposite to the wild pool sex the two of you just had. The kiss lasted for a while before he pulled back to stare at you. His eyes hold so much emotion that it is making your heart rate go overdrive.

"When I got home today," He starts. "for a moment there, I had this bad feeling that you were gone, that you left me... and it scared me so much, baby." The expression in his eyes is something close to pain. "I know we don't have much time together, and I know if you decide not to marry me, I can't force you to stay...but if you leave, sweetheart… I'd be so broken because you,'" He sucks in a shaky breath. "You're starting to mean everything to me.”

You're starting to mean everything to me…

Your eyes roam over his face to search for any trace of mischief, or deception maybe, but there's none. He is being truthful. God. You are hit by a wave of emotions so intense you know you will likely burst into tears. "I..." Your lips part and unpart, trying to form a word but nothing comes out.

A look of understanding laces his eyes and he smiles. "It's okay, sweetheart. You don't have to say anything if you're not ready.”

Unlike Wonwoo, you are not someone who is good at expressing your feelings. But he has just shown you parts of him, and you know it is only right if you do too.

“I can't give you an answer yet because... honestly, I don't know it myself," you explain. "Marriage is a big thing and needs time to figure things out, Won," your hand moves up to cup his face.

"What I can tell you is, you mean something to me, and the thought of losing you scares me too." That brings a hopeful smile to his face. "Does that mean you'll stay?" He asks.

"Yes, Wonwoo." you return his smile. "I'Il stay as long as you want me to.”

𓂃۶ৎ

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x oc #svt fic #wonwoo smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #jeon wonwoo smut #svthub #smut #fluff #seventeen #wonwoo seventeen #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo x you #svt

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hannieehaee · 1 month ago

Note

Hello,how are you,hope everything is going well in your life ☺️

May I ask please for SVT reaction if their SO is serious and always wears poker face person but she has soft spot only for him🙏🏻

And may I add God bless all tumblr writers, thanks to you guys I’m learning English language 🫶🏻

their cold s/o having a soft spot for them

content: established relationship implied, fluff, etc.

wc: 633

a/n: i hope things are going well for you too! sorry this took so long. i hope you like it!!

masterlist

seungcheol -

good. it's exactly as it should be. he's a little possessive, so this just works perfectly for him! everyone who knows you knows about your soft spot for him and he thrives in it.

jeonghan -

jokes and teases you about being obsessed with him as soon as he notices how differently you act around him in comparison to everyone else. would constantly use this as leverage to get you to do or say things. can't really blame you, though. so many people have a soft spot for him.

joshua -

he thinks its the cutest thing. sometimes he cant help but laugh when he sees you light up at his presence. your soft spot for him is such a serotonin boost for him. like damn you must really like him!

jun -

he gets a little flustered when he realizes you have a soft spot specifically for him and no one else. is he that fun to be around? is he that much of a light in your life? won't ever actually question it, but rather just grow to enjoy it.

soonyoung -

he probably doesnt even realize you tend to have a poker face or be perceived as cold for other people. he mostly pays attention to how you treat him and is too distracted by your existence to realize he's the only person you ever smile around.

wonwoo -

he thinks its adorable. loves how you could look like you're having the worst time of your life up until you spot him, lighting up immediately. he knows you're not actually miserable unless he's there, but he still finds it cute that there's such a contrast in your attitude between when he's with you and when he's not.

jihoon -

you guys are twins!! he gets told a lot that he seems cold, that some people are put off by his closed-off exterior sometimes. when he met you, he'd completely understand how most people felt around him. except he'd soon realize that you'd made an exception for him, being the sweetest person alive to him in specific. he'd just have to return the favor.

seokmin -

he kind of loves it. it just means he gets to try and make you crack a smile or a laugh while in public. he knows you have a soft spot for him, but he'd want to show it off to everyone else, show them that you're whipped for him as he is for you.

mingyu -

he also tries to get you to smile more often in public. he makes it his own personal mission to make sure how pretty your smile is since most of the time you have a poker face. but at the same time, he also enjoys keeping you to himself sometimes.

minghao -

he's known to appear more serious than he actually is, so he relates. you'd have a very specific dynamic where you both have a soft spot for the other while keeping a safe distance from most other people. he'd really enjoy this.

seungkwan -

you'd kind of remind him of vernon lol. he'd find it cute, same as he does with vernon. he's such a bright person, always smiling and making others smile, making him the exact opposite of you. you'd balance each other out pretty well.

vernon -

you're both misinterpreted for being cold sometimes, even though its just a case of having a poker face. it'd be a funny sight to see for everyone else, how you'd both instantly light up any time you were together.

chan -

it makes him feel special. it's like there's a whole side of you only he gets to have and it's a huge privilege he doesn't take for granted. sometimes he'll even go out of his way to ensure you're extra smiley and happy when you're with him.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #svt oneshot #svt reactions #seventeen reactions #svt fluff #seventeen fluff

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arabellasleopardcoat · 1 year ago

Text

No masters or kings (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Aemond has issues around sex. The thought of being married to you, an angel, it's not helping.

Warnings: Angst (w/happy ending) Religious guilt, repression around sex. Kissing. Thoughts of sex, but no actual smut. Just angst and fluff.

Requested: Yup! Modern reader falls into Sept x Aemond

For as long as he could remember, Aemond had been alone. He had been an outsider to his siblings and nephews, all with a dragon. He had been an outsider to other noble children, marked apart by his distinctive features. He had been an outsider to his father's family, Rhaenyra and her children.

The loss of his eye had only exacerbated that. The girls at court were frightened by the sight of him, and he often worried about how he could secure a match. No longer activities he had found solace in, like studying and swordplay, came easily. Everything, from reading to being able to walk down the stairs without tripping, had to be relearned.

His faith in the Seven had permeated all of his childhood. His mother was the only person to pay attention to him, even if it was sometimes in a way Aemond could not appreciate. When he thought of her, his mind's eye always conjured her with a seven pointed star hanging from her neck.

Aemond had tried his best to keep her happy. She was all he had. So instead of running from his lessons and incurring on indecent behavior, Aemond had closely listened to the Septons that educated them. He had prayed daily. He had read the Seven Pointed Star and annotated its passages, committing them to memory.

Paradoxically, the time when he felt closer to the Gods was after the loss of his eye. It had been then he had truly understood what it felt like to be favored by the Seven. His faith demanded sacrifices, but always rewarded them. An eye for a dragon. The biggest dragon in Westeros.

Sacrifice will bring good things. It was a very simple lesson, but one he committed to memory regardless.

As a child, Aemond had not prayed for a dragon. Nor had he prayed to the Warrior to make him strong and able to defeat his enemies. When Aemond was a child, he had often prayed for a friend. Asking for the Maiden to send him someone kind. An angel. He had never spoken it out loud, afraid of appearing weak. Children were such cruel creatures, after all. But Aemond never forgot to ask the Maiden for it.

Aemond prayed. And suffered. And prayed, and suffered, and thought that at least this life he was leading, of loneliness and desperation and so much fear, would finally account for something. For the Gods favored those who suffered and sacrificed, and if his reward didn't come in this life, it would come in the next one.

His prayers were always the same. Each morning, before anyone else could rise except for the lowliest of servants, Aemond went to the Sept. He spent equal time in front of each of the Seven's effigy and lit a candle for them. He prayed in silence, asking of them simple things. Aemond knew he already led a privileged life, so he did not dare ask for more.

His prayers were so ingrained, he recited them with little thought. Yet, when he came to the Maiden, Aemond always fumbled. With the other Gods, he knew exactly what to ask for. But with Her, he only felt unease. So he rapidly mumbled his childhood prayer, and moved on. It had become a tradition, even if he was no longer the appropriate age to pray for friends.

Aemond knew it was the wrong thing to do. When you were praying, you were supposed to be present. To think of all the aspects of the Seven with the devotion they deserved. But when you are taught as a child to pray, it turns into instinct.

Just as someone who has trained enough with the sword barely thinks about his next move, someone who prays enough doesn't need to think about what they will ask next. It's too ingrained.

At this hour, the Sept is quiet. Aemond enjoys praying here instead of in the one inside the Red Keep. There are no court ladies around to bother him, nor an Aegon making mocking noises while he tries to pray. Despite wanting to join his mother in prayer sometimes, he just couldn't take the royal sept. It lacked the peace septs were supposed to make you feel.

He leaned down, lighting a candle before each effigy, and muttering his usual prayer.

“Warrior, give me strength.” Aemond whispered. He lit the candle and moved on. “Mother, protect my sister and my mother. Father, bring your justice upon my enemies. Maiden, bring me someone kind. An angel.” And as he kneeled to light her candle, something hit him from above.

The weight of the thing was too great for him to remain upright. Aemond was sent sprawling to the floor. His head slammed on the stone floor of the Sept, making him grunt. A woman screamed. Probably, one of the commoners visiting the Sept. They were few at this hour, most having already begun their labors. Her scream was echoed by one of another woman, and soon, hurried footsteps were nearing him.

Aemond tried to sit up, reaching a hand out to move the weight aside. What he gripped, made him fall back down.

Cloth. Cloth covering something soft, something that yielded under his hands. An arm. You. The Gods had answered his call. There was a woman right on top of him, eyes closed and expression smooth, as if in peaceful sleep. The Maiden had sent him an angel, after years of solitude and sacrifice. You were his reward.

Aemond lifted you and set you aside, on one of the benches of the Sept. A couple of the commoners hurried forward, to gape at you, but Ser Criston stopped them.

“A miracle! A miracle!” Someone was screaming, and you twitched. More and more commoners started to pour through the entrance of the Sept, all gawking and murmuring about the woman who had appeared out of thin air.

The people were bright-eyed, frenzied by the demonstration of the Seven's power. They started pushing at Ser Criston, and trying to touch Aemond and you.

Cole and Aemond exchanged looks. If no one controlled the crowd, they might very well end up being torn to shreds by them, in their frantic attempts of touching the holy being they were guarding.

Aemond unsheathed his dagger.

“I think… We need a Septon.”

You were being carried somewhere. You could tell because your head swayed with the movement, unsupported. It was giving you terrible neck pain.

“If she has fallen out of the sky, and there is no hole….”

“A miracle! A miracle! The Seven have…” Fuck, your head hurt, and the woman screaming was not helping things. You flinched, trying to curl into yourself. This felt like the worst hangover ever, and you had no leverage to avoid the noises, since you were hanging in midair.

“The Prince must be held in high regard, for clearly the Gods favor him. Thousands of people pray here daily, yet the Maiden herself answered his plea.” The man from before continued speaking.

Someone else scoffed.

“Surely, this is a bit much. The Prince is hardly…”

“Shut up, Cole.” The person who was carrying you barked. The movement his chest made when he was talking made you fearful of falling down. Despite the strength in his grip, you weighted more than a few sacks of flour or a gallon of milk. People were not supposed to carry other people for long, unless they were frat boys attempting to impress girls or some sort of soldier.

You tried to sit up, the movement making all your body ache. Where were you? Why were you being carried? The last thing you remembered was going into an occult museum with a friend.

Everyone has that one friend. The slightly witchy one who believes in ghosts and crystals and whose favorite month of the year is October. The one who likes terror movies, and scary podcasts and dragging you to haunted houses and escape rooms.

It will be fun, they said. It's an occult museum, what could possibly go wrong?

Where the fuck were they? You were so going to strangle them for getting you… Wherever you were.

“My Lady.” The man holding you said. You looked up and met a pale blue eye and an eye patch. You startled. He looked straight out of a low-budget pirate movie, all in leather. “Are you alright?”

“What happened?” You lifted your head, noticing everyone was cosplaying as medieval priests and knights. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach. The man holding you looked an awful lot like Aemond Targaryen. You would recognize that ensemble anywhere. You had read enough fanfics for it. “Is this a renaissance fair? A comic con?”

It was worth the shot. Perhaps something happened to you and you had stumbled into a comic con? But was it so easy to stumble into one? You thought the tickets for those were expensive, they surely wouldn't just let you in.

Something had happened to you and these kind cosplayers who were… Doing something decided to help you? That seemed more likely.

“No, my lady. This is Westeros. The earthly one.” The man dressed in the more expensive costume of a priest was speaking. He had an elaborate head accessory, billowing robes and some strange pentagram with way more points than usual. His voice was the one which had been muttering about a Prince, and being favored.

“What is a renaissance fair?” The man had the oddest combination of a white cloak and armor. You looked at the man and froze. He was… Oh, what was his name again? Oranges guy!

“Something they must have in the Seven Heavens.” The expensive priest answered, in a matter of fact tone. “Clearly. The Prince asked for an angel. Angels reside there.”

Your mouth was hanging open. They thought you were an angel. Holy shit. You looked down, at your scuffed sneakers and clothes. You didn't feel very angelic, but like hell if you were going to miss the opportunity of receiving royal treatment in Westeros. If you truly were here, you would rather not learn how the lower class lived.

Another priest turned to you. He was dressed as expensively as the first one, but he lacked the head accessory.

“Tell us, young lady. Were you an attendant for the Maiden? What are the Seven Heavens like?”

You panicked. Perhaps pretending to be an angel from a religion you had no clue about was not a good idea. These questions would continue, you knew it.

“Don't be ridiculous, Eustace. Everyone knows that angels can't divulge that sort of thing. It's basic theology. They come to fulfill their purpose, not to entertain fools.” The man with the head accessory spoke, as if talking to a child.

You did your best to sit up. Aemond held you more firmly, and raised his arm on your back, encouraging your head to loll towards his shoulder. You were moving inside a prehistoric looking building, corridors made from stone and decorated with tapestries. The Red Keep, perhaps.

“And what do you believe the being’s purpose to be?” Eustace asked. You did not like being referred to in such a manner, and you fought Aemond's grip a bit harsher. He merely settled you against him and kept walking, this time going up a stairwell. You squirmed.

“The Prince's wife. He prayed for a companion. That must be it.” The expensive priest, Septons they were called, now that you remembered, seemed to have become an expert on all things you. Wisely, you kept your mouth shut.

“Is that why her attire is so immodest?” The oranges guy spoke, reaching for you. He clearly noticed his Prince was struggling and hoped to relieve him of the burden. You clung to Aemond more tightly. You were honest enough with yourself to know you had many impure thoughts about him, and were not going to lose your chance.

Aemond grunted. Encouraging him to keep carrying you beyond his capabilities might not have been your best move.

“You can put me down. I can walk.” You spoke softly, trying to sound your most angelic.

“We are nearly there.” His voice sounded agitated from the physical exertion, but his tone screamed danger. It would wound his pride putting you down now, you realized. He wanted to look strong. “There is no need.”

“The Gods see all, and angels are pure beings. They do not know of such earthly concerns, for they have not been exposed to the sins of the flesh.”

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, sure that you were dreaming. This was turning crazier by the second.

“That is a crass word here, my lady.” Aemond whispered to you. “You shall not repeat it.”

Safe to say, you were learning your lesson. When an occult museum artifact has a sign that says, “Do not touch” you DO NOT TOUCH.

Marrying an angel was not a part of Aemond's plans. Begrudgingly, he admitted he may have to reconsider his more violent revenge plots. Aemond had to prove himself worthy of you, and for once, worthiness did not mean prowess with a sword or riding a dragon. It meant piety.

Piety. Kindness. All the virtues that the Faith enforced and that you were made of. All the virtues Aemond felt he lacked, sometimes.

Taking his nephew's eye would not be kind. You had explained so, as if you could read his mind. You also said that Aemond should not attempt to force him to pay his debt. It had been an alarming show of clairvoyance.

That you were privy to his most secret inner thoughts should not have surprised him so. It was only further proof of your angelic nature.

Your arrival had the Kingdoms in an uproar. The Citadel had wanted to record the circumstances around your appearance, the Faith had made you pose for a portrait. Some even dared utter that perhaps Aemond was better suited to be King, since the Gods clearly favored him.

The King was displeased, but your miraculous arrival had been witnessed by too many to deny it. Aemond had been authorized to marry you, only out of sheer pressure from the High Septon. You were a hero to the man. Families who had been worshiping the Old Gods for generations now rushed to convert. Only House Targaryen remained stagnant.

Even after your marriage, Aemond struggled to catch a minute alone with you. Anywhere you went, people were currying for your attention. If it wasn't his other asking you to join her in prayer, it was some Septon asking you questions, or near mobs awaiting outside the Red Keep for you to appear on a balcony. People thought your touch was magical, that you could heal the sick and bless the innocents. Aemond had to fight to keep their hands off you.

As the wife to a Prince favored by the Seven, all thoughts of going back were stomped on. You had mentioned it once or twice, before he had married you. Going back home, you had said. Aemond understood that the earthly world was much different than where you had been from, and the homesickness that came with it, but he hoped you forgot such silly ideas. There was no way for you to go home, and if there was, he would not allow it.

In hopes of distracting you, his mother had suggested expediting the wedding. Aemond had agreed, but he had soon realized that it was not enough. While sweet and kind to him, and clearly loving, your mind still drifted to thoughts of your life before. Something stronger was needed. And there was only one stronger bond than marriage. He had to put a babe in you.

Such thing, unfortunately, was much harder than expected. To produce a child, a couple needed to lay together in ways Aemond and you had not. You were loving, pressing kisses to his lips and cheeks every chance you had, but it was a pure kind of affection. You had been told that you were his wife, and what that entailed, innocent being that you were. It didn't mean anything. You were only trying to do what you thought was needed.

Aemond didn't dare touch you. It was his right to do so, but he was unsure if it was the moral thing to do. You probably weren’t too sure of the connotations of the act and all that it entailed. Besides, was it really his right? You were no ordinary woman. You were an otherworldly being, an angel, a perfect woman carved out by the Maiden herself and sent to him to love and cherish. You were not meant to be hurt or tainted in any way.

Intercourse was dirty. It hurt maidens, and it was a sin when practiced outside the marriage bed. Despite always pleasurable to him, and sometimes to his companions, Aemond was not too sure he should submit you to it.

You were heavenly. Asking you to have intercourse with him would be asking you to roll around in the mud while wearing a white dress. It would make you earthly, change you. And you were perfect just the way you were.

Yet Aemond could not contain these… Urges. When you kissed the corner of his lips, all he could think about was grabbing you and deepening the kiss until he got to know every inch of your mouth. When you hugged him close, letting him curl around you at night and hide his face on your neck, Aemond thought of kissing and bitting and sucking the supple skin until you were writhing in pleasure. When your hand innocently grazed against his thigh, he thought of his hands squeezing your own thighs, pulling them apart to reveal your core.

It was a sinful way of thinking. He knew it was wrong of him, but he could not stop. He could not control it. If only his waking thoughts were sinful, things would be different. Waking thoughts could be controlled. Dreams could not.

Every night, without fail, Aemond woke up drenched in sweat, breeches uncomfortably tight. He saw you in his dreams, in all sorts of lurid positions. Your pretty lips parted, your thighs fluttering open and closed like the wings of a butterfly. You on your knees, back, your bosom spilling from your bodice, your pretty breasts, nipples puffy. His mouth, his hands, his cock, on you, in you.

The dreams were pleasurable while they lasted, but as soon as Aemond woke up and saw you sleeping peacefully next to him, the guilt returned. You let out the tiniest puffs of air when you breathed, and always chased his warmth on cold nights. Adorable being that you were, you curled into him, unaware of the turmoil you caused.

Aemond could no longer take it. At first, he tried looking for answers to his dilemma inside of books. He soon found out his studies of philosophy and history had not prepared him for the monster that was theology.

So he asked for advice. To the only person who had to be an expert on the topic. The High Septon.

By the end of the day, a panel with four Maesters and ten Septons had been formed to discuss the issue.

“She is a pure being. The Queen and a Septa have confirmed that she has female anatomy, but having it does not mean she should be defiled.” One of the Maesters spoke, frowning. Aemond nodded along. It had been like he thought.

“It's hardly defiling if the Maiden gifted her to the Prince. She blessed the union.” The High Septon argued, sitting straighter in his chair. He clearly was uncomfortable at the thought of Maesters, of all people, interfering in these matters. What Aemond could not figure out was why the man had invited them if they clearly ruffled his feathers.

“The Maiden is a maiden. That's the whole point.” Another Maester rolled his eyes. It was a sound logic. Aemond felt even guiltier after hearing that. Thinking about you in such a manner was impure. You were a representative of the Maiden herself, here on Westeros. Even thinking of such dirty things near you was disrespectful. It was as if he were thinking them about the Maiden herself.

“Well, yes, but if you ask for a wife, is it not implied?” Septon Eustace chimed in. Aemond had never particularly enjoyed the royal Septon, but he was proving to be very useful. “I do not presume to know how the Prince words his prayers, nor do I think I can know his intentions, but…”

A companion. Someone kind. The prayer had started innocent enough, a child asking for a friend. Aemond had kept it worded exactly as it had been back then, when he was eight years old and dragonless. But he had grown, and so had his intentions. When he spoke of a companion, did he still think of a friend? Or rather, a wife?

The word companion indicated someone that assisted, that served to cater to a necessity. Not quite a friend, but someone to ward off loneliness. A somewhat inferior being, even. It was a term used to refer to pets, after all.

Women were precious beings. Images of the mother, to be treasured and protected, but never equals. Wives were, after all, lower than husbands. It was why they must be obedient to them, why they should mind the children and the home. They were not made to stand on their own. Women were made to stand next to a man.

Besides, wasn't it interesting? The Gods could have sent him a man. A boy. A dog. But instead, they had sent him a woman near his age, with pretty eyes and a tempting mouth.

“Hardly.” A Septon interfered. “There has been precedent of marriages that…”

“Marriages declared null.” The High Septon snapped. His mood was a reflection of the room. The conversation was starting to turn more and more heated, murmurs breaking out among the gathered. It brought uncomfortable memories of the day Aemond had met you and had to fight a frenzied mob. He had the feeling this was going to turn into that quickly.

Perhaps sensing the same, another Maester spoke.

“Why don't we ask her? She must know the Seven's will in the matter.”

Neither of the fourteen other men in the room had thought of that.

When Aemond asked you, timidly, if you wished to consummate the marriage, you could have danced from joy.

You had decided early on that if going back was not an option, you were going to make the most of your stay here. You missed your family and friends, but your life here was so pampered that you didn't feel so bad. Any quirks of behavior that you had were excused as part of your angelic nature, and you had the biggest crush on the man who had married you.

If only Aemond didn't refuse to even touch you. So far, you have tried everything. You have kissed him. Stroked him. Cuddled far too close to him, so you are nearly on top of him. Groped his thigh, almost his cock. Your behavior has bordered on indecent even by modern standards, yet Aemond dismisses it all as innocent. He is either the most oblivious man on the planet or he doesn't want you.

That suspicion had given you pause. If Aemond did not want you, you weren't about to force him to do so. You had stopped with your insistent touching, and went back to light kisses on the cheek. Instead, you had made the mistake of looking around.

You are so horny it's driving you mad. Being married in Westeros is not what you thought it would be. You expected much more sex. Besides, everyone here was insanely good-looking, especially the man sleeping next to you and waking up every morning with a raging erection. Anyone with a sliver of a libido would be frothing at the mouth and clawing at walls from horniness.

In your other life, you had watched HOTD and understood the message clearly. Despite being a common occurrence, cheating was not a good idea. There were no reliable contraception methods and no way of preventing STDS.

Even if you were not aware of all the possibles consequences of cheating from your knowledge about the show, you now knew Aemond. He was terrifying, devout, and hated his bastard nephews. You did not want to see what he would do if he caught you cheating.

So here you were. Into forced chastity and perpetually horny, with your husband asking you if you thought it was a good idea to consummate the marriage.

You could have jumped from the bed in your haste to show him exactly what you thought. But you had to maintain your air of an otherworldly being. Which you technically were, since this was not your world.

“Whichever you think best, my Prince.” You answered, voice soft and patient. Just as you had always spoken in his presence. It had done wonders to make Aemond seek your company. He found you soothing, or so he said.

Aemond reached forward. His hand cupped your cheek, very gently. You looked up at him with your most innocent eyes.

He lowered his hand, shoulders slumping in defeat. You tried not to let it show how much it hurt you to have all you wanted dangled in front of you and then taken away.

“I cannot touch you. Nor should I lust after you. You are…” Aemond’s eyebrows pinched together. His face showed an inner conflict that made your own heart soften. Perhaps he had grown to care for you, in the ways you wished he did. He just didn't think it appropriate.

You stepped closer. This time, it was your hands that cupped his face. Aemond's eye closed, briefly. He seemed to be enjoying the touch, committing it to memory.

“Kiss me.” You whispered, pulling him close. Aemond went into the hug, nuzzling your hair. Despite the sweetness with which he responded, his frame was tense. “Please. I beg it of you.”

“I can't. I can't defile you.” He sounded truly strained. You rubbed his back, gently. “ A perfect being, such as yourself, does not deserve this.”

“It won't hurt. I know how to do it.” You explained, softly. Perhaps he worried about hurting you, you thought. You were no blushing virgin, but Aemond did not know that.

“Of course. You are an enlightened being. But it does not mean you have to put that into practice. You must know of the mysteries of death, yet you have not hurt anybody.”

“Because killing is wrong.” And truly, it was a ridiculous comparison. Sex had not killed anyone, at least that you knew of. It was not meant to hurt.

“Sex is, too. It's only for making heirs, and I am a second son. I don't need heirs.”

And by the look of his face, Aemond really believed what he was saying. The thought of him suffering, of being so deeply repressed, hurt you. You understood well how damaging thinking about sex in that way could be.

It hurts you more to think it might have been exacerbated by you. The thought of you being this perfect soul, someone so pure and easily hurt, and then the thought of tainting you. It said a lot about his mental health.

You vowed then you would aid you in any way you could.

“It's not wrong.” You whispered, and moved slightly back from his embrace. “Let me show you.” And you were kissing him, and Aemond was kissing back. His lips were soft, and he held you as if you were the most delicate glass vase he had ever held. You understood him now. And one day, Aemond would understand this too.

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sammylkcho · 5 days ago

Note

Hello

Heard you were doing epic requests...Telemachus x reader, if you already had ideas for this x reader go for it, if not, maybe the reader is a servant at the palace or it takes place after I can't help but wonder. No pressure to actually do this btw, I'm sure you getting too many requests to keep up with.

Have a nice day! <3

Howdy! I liked the idea of the request, and to make it less challenging for me to write, I decided to make Reader a personal (or close) servant to Telemachus

Warnings/Notes: none!

"Prince Telemachus, would you like me to bring up your dinner tonight? The suitors are still eating and helping themselves to numerous trays of food," you informed him in a formal tone, awaiting his response to see what orders he would give you.

Lately, Telemachus had opted to dine in the comfort of his room to avoid discomfort or any comments from his mother’s suitors. It wasn’t exactly proper, especially for him as the prince, since he was expected to accompany their "guests."

You had tried to gently persuade him, following his mother’s orders, not to be discourteous by leaving the suitors to dine alone. In the end, all those efforts were in vain. You understood that the prince had his reasons for avoiding the same table as them.

With your hands clasped behind your back, occasionally fidgeting nervously, you waited for the prince’s reply—even though you already had a good idea of what it would be.

"I'm not hungry, but thank you," the prince informed you, his tone clearly disheartened and subdued.

You made a visible grimace of displeasure and concern at his words. His demeanor didn’t sit well with you—not that you hated it, but his spirits hadn’t been the same since his argument with Antinous. Each passing day seemed to weigh on him more heavily, especially as the suitors grew increasingly impatient over the lack of a king being chosen.

You bit your lower lip, a tinge of doubt crossing your mind about what to do next. You didn’t want to simply fulfill your role as a servant this time.

Deciding to break that boundary, even if only for a moment, you chose to be Telemachus’s close friend—the one who had stood by his side all these years.

Without needing to say a word, you sat down beside him on the bed. That alone was enough to draw his attention.

The dim light of the two torches flickering in the room seemed to conspire in your favor, casting its glow over the prince’s face. You could see the bruises on his skin, now less swollen—a marked improvement from how they had looked just days ago—and the shadows forming under his eyes, the evidence of sleepless nights spent training or lost in thought.

You remembered those nights. The times you stayed up with him, watching him practice with his wooden sword when you were both still children, or when the two of you would sneak out of the castle. You thought of the moment he had cried in front of you, overcome by the helplessness of not knowing how to rid his home of the men who were taking everything from him—from his family’s food to their dignity.

Maybe it was instinct, or perhaps just muscle memory. As if your body already knew what to do, your hands rose gently to cradle his face.

Your thumb moved softly across his cheek, avoiding the areas where the wounds from his fight with Antinous were still tender.

“We’ll get those men out of here, and they’ll leave your mother alone, I promise.” You whispered, almost afraid that anyone other than him might hear.

Why were you the one making that promise? A simple servant of the castle, tasked with daily mundane duties, with no power except to stand by your prince. You prayed silently to the gods that your words would not be empty, that someday those men would be gone, and Odysseus would return to the home he’d left behind so long ago.

“That.. I swear by the gods, especially by the goddess Athena herself, they couldn’t have given me anyone better than you.” Telemachus murmured.

His voice was just a whisper, so soft that you almost doubted if you had heard him, but the weight of his words filled the space between you with a profound meaning.

Time seemed to pause as you felt his hand, warm and firm, resting over yours. It wasn’t scorching hot or uncomfortably cold; it was just the right warmth, as though it belonged there.

“That punch you gave Antinous must still be giving him a headache. Next time, land an even stronger one for me, but make sure you come out unscathed, okay?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes before a quiet, sheepish laugh escaped him. You couldn’t help but laugh along.

“With Athena’s strength on my side, I’ll make it happen,” he replied with a newfound confidence, his spirits slowly lifting.

Heat rushed to your face, crawling torturously to your cheeks, and you cursed inwardly, hoping the blush wasn’t too obvious to him.

“It better be. I’d rather not see your face battered again or listen to you complaining while I try to patch you up.” You joked, letting out a soft laugh as he groaned in mock protest.

You treasured moments like these. There were no suitors to humiliate him, no interruptions to break the fragile bubble of peace around you. It was just you and him.

And in your heart, you kept praying to the gods. For Odysseus to return soon. For a way to rid the castle of those men. For these fleeting moments of calm to last just a little longer.

#telemachus x reader #epic the musical x reader #epic x reader #telemachus fanfic

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mochegato · 6 months ago

Text

Petty Warfare

Part One of the Pretty Petty Series

“Akuma I have no sense of decorum,” Ladybug grumbled as she surveyed the wreckage before her. It was all quite impressive considering the akuma had only emerged a few minutes ago and had already wreaked more havoc than the last eight akuma combined, but it was easy to do that with a literal sea of lava appearing and disappearing every few seconds.

It was not the look they needed right before their meeting with the Batman to discuss investigative assistance from the Justice League while still keeping them at a distance and allowing the Miraculous team to stay in control. It was a well-known fact in the hero community, and the general public really, that Batman and his team had a tendency to think they know better and taking over.

“Absolutely no respect for other people's schedules,” Chat nodded in agreement as he stepped up next to her with a twirl of his staff.

Rena hummed as she whirled her flute and got in line. “It's one thing that's always bothered me about akuma, how rude they are.”

Carapace stepped beside her. “Well then, let's teach them some manners.” He looked down and around, for a brief second there was a glimmer of panic in his eyes, but it almost immediately disappeared in favor of a smirk. He grabbed his shield from its back holster and spun it on one finger before securing it on his forearm.

Ladybug rolled her eyes and shook her head, much to the amusement of the rest of her team. It was extremely common for her to do one or the other, but both at the same time? They rarely got her to do that. “And let's make it quick,” she advised firmly. “We have a meeting to get to and I for one do not want to let down Wonder Woman.” She made eye contact with the rest of her team but then rolled her eyes again at their hopeful expressions and twirled her yoyo.

Chat grinned brilliantly, almost bouncing from foot to foot watching the yoyo, but quickly cleared his throat and shook his body before easing into a model perfect pose. “Or give Batman the idea that we need him to step in more than we want.”

Carapace sucked in a breath. “Might want to get on that.”

“Oh my god, that's Red Hood!” Rena shrieked, barely able to keep her voice low enough not to echo across the rooftops. “I need to get a picture of him in the fight for the paper.” Her excited grin quickly twisted to a contemplative purse. “I can’t believe they brought Red Hood near Hawk Moth. That seems like a poor choice.”

“Red who?” Ladybug asked.

Rena pointed to a figure jumping from roof to roof. “Red Hood,” she enunciated slowly. “Affiliated with Batman… kind of… he has a bat on his chest so…”

Ladybug followed to where she was pointing, her face scrunching as she watched him. “But he doesn't have a hood.”

Carapace shrugged. “You don't have antenna but your called Ladybug.”

Ladybug scoffed and spluttered. “No, but I have…” she motioned toward her bodysuit. “I'm not called Ladybug and then running around looking like a fox.” She gestured harshly toward Rena. “He should be called Red Mask or something.” She suddenly narrowed her eyes and shot up straight. “Is that a gun?” she shrieked, not bothering to keep her voice down.

“That’s kind of his thing,” Rena grimaced.

“Not here it isn’t,” Ladybug snapped. Her yoyo was sailing toward him before Carapace could warn her that she might not want to start a fight with an ally while they were still fighting an akuma, but by that point, she was already gone and it was probably better for everyone involved if he just didn’t say anything. Except for Red Hood, but he was a big boy. He could handle himself… probably.

The yoyo hooked over a beam and wrapped around Red Hood’s wrists in the blink of an eye. He was yanked forward by his wrists, forcing him to drop both his guns over the side of the building and barely keeping himself from following after, as she jumped off the building and swung toward him, using him as her counterweight. Thankfully, he was heavy enough he barely moved as she swung. She landed gracefully and silently, but stalked over to him, stomping the entire way until she was almost chest to chest with him. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” she demanded.

He yanked his arms back and looked her up and down, the surprised look from seconds before replaced with a mask of indifference, eyes calculating and raised eyebrow unimpressed. “It's called saving the day sweetheart. Someone had to do it.”

“Oh shit,” Chat grumbled under his breath. He searched around for the rest of Red Hood’s team. Surely one of them could help deescalate the situation. He could calm Marinette down, but not if Red Hood was actively taunting her. But when he turned back to intervene, his eyes caught on Red Hood’s hands and he had to fight to stop from chuckling.

He was trying to be discreet. He was trying to be sneaky. He thought he could trick them. He really had no idea who he was dealing with. He could try as hard as he wanted, as long as he wanted, but he wasn’t going to get out of that line. He was stuck there for as long as Marinette wanted him there. Chat would know, from personal experience. If Red Hood had done any research before coming to their territory, he would have known that.

“It's called inflicting major trauma,” she hissed, “which is a bad thing when dealing with a villain who preys on negative emotions. I fear that's something most anyone could figure out.”

“Seems like getting attacked by an akuma might do exactly that. So stopping the akuma would prevent it. I fear that’s something even someone like you could figure out,” he growled back.

“Someone like me has figured out how to mitigate damage as much as possible from years of experience. Someone like me has learned unnecessary violence will only make everything worse.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to recenter herself, when she reopened her eyes, they retained the same blazing frustration, but her voice was steady and calm, disturbingly so for anyone who knew her. “You can’t shoot them. That is not how we deal with akuma.”

“That’s how I deal with bad guys, kid,” he snarled back. He took a step forward expecting her to step back, but she stood her ground meaning they were now physically touching chests and he had to lean back slightly to look down and meet her gaze. “This here is the real world and in the real world, you have to get a little dirty,” he lectured, not bothering to keep his condescension from his voice. “You can’t just sing a little song to make the bad guys turn good. Maybe that’s why you haven’t been able to defeat your villain.”

“That is literally how we stopped one akuma, you pretentious, cretinous brute. Violence doesn’t solve everything.” She leaned forward, filling in the space he had created and poking her finger against his armored chest. “In fact, responding with violence has made a lot of our situations worse. And I’ll tell you one more thing someone like me knows, that even if they don’t look like one, it is wholly, unmitigatedly wrong to shoot a kid even if he doesn’t look like one at the moment.”

She walked away a few steps, missing the way his entire body tensed at her words. When she turned back to him, she had a cocky smirk on her face, arms crossed, and hip cocked. “We fight smarter, not harder. I would say you should try it, but smarter doesn’t appear to be your strong suit.”

Red Hood stepped forward but before he could retort, another figure landed just next to him. “Oh good, you met the local heroes,” Nightwing cheered, his voice clearly artificially bright.

“I really need you guys to stay out of our way,” Ladybug stated, her voice commanding, clearly intended for all of the bats, but her eyes not straying from Red Hood.

“Yep, he met them,” Red Robin grimaced. He took a breath and turned to Ladybug and the rest of the team with a calm, confident expression. “We don’t intend to get in your way. We will assist if you need, but we are here for the meeting. We can just treat this like research.”

Ladybug forced out a breath then another before turning to Red Robin and Nightwing. Her demeanor completely changing from confrontational to commanding. “Look, you guys clearly didn’t bother to do your research before coming, so here’s the crash course…”

“You seem like you’d be familiar with crashing,” Red Hood muttered loudly enough for everyone on the roof to hear.

Red Robin glared at him. This could be a great collaboration, helping not only the Miraculous team but the Justice League as well. He needed to make clear they were not supporting Red Hood in this. “Didn’t you crash into a billboard a few weeks ago?”

“I was thrown into one. There’s a difference,” Red Hood hissed, stepping up to Red Robin who danced just out of his reach along the edge of the roof.

“Focus, children,” Nightwing thundered. He waited a few seconds, staring down Red Hood and Red Robin before turning to Ladybug and motioning for her to continue.

Instead, Chat stepped in. “Okay real quick, Hawk Moth uses magic to take over people and make them do things they would likely never choose to do otherwise. They are given magic powers and the powers vary by person. The magic is anchored in an item. Break that item, free the person.”

“Also important,” Ladybug cut in, “the people corrupted can be anyone. They can be completely innocent people. They could be children,” she added pointedly. “And they remember everything. They remember what they did and what was done to them.” She met Red Hood’s eyes fiercely. “Do not give our children, or any of our citizens, any more trauma than they already have.”

Red Robin waited impatiently, his eyes volleyed back and forth between them a few times before he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. “Is the object always prominent?”

“No,” Rena answered when Ladybug still hadn’t broken her glare. Plus, it was Red Robin! She was getting to talk with Red Robin! “Sometimes it's hidden.”

He quirked his head and let his gaze move past her toward the akuma that had now come out into the open. “How do you know what it is.”

Ladybug finally tore her glare from Red Hood to redirect it toward the akuma. “We figure it out,” she answered, almost absentmindedly, her focus now on the akuma as her eyes darted to every part of it.

“We deduce it based on the cause of the possession and context clues,” Chat added.

Ladybug turned back at the loud scoff clearly coming from Red Hood’s direction. “For example,” she snapped, stepping up to him again, “in this case we know it started from a game of The Floor is Lava, the handle of the drawer he was holding onto broke, so…” She paused and whipped around, eyes narrowed at the Akuma in the distance for just a moment before looking around, eyes tracing her yoyo, then the line to Red Hood, to Carapace to just past him to the edge of the building, then to Chat, and back to the akuma. “Carapace," she stated. Her words were heavily weighted like it there was an entire conversation in that one word.

And clearly there was, because Carapace instantly stood at attention and followed the path her eyes had followed seconds before, nodding in understanding. “On it,” he reported as he stepped into position at the edge of the building.

“Rena, a bit of cover, if you will.” Rena nodded and pulled her flute up to her lips, ready to play when the time was right. “Get ready Chat.” Her words carried the same weight, communicating everything with her tone and body language.

Chat followed her gaze and narrowed his eyes at an area of the akuma’s chest that was protruding strangely. “Always m'lady,” he answered with a determined nod.

Nightwing stepped forward. “Um, do you want to share for the rest of us? We speak to each other with our eyes not our tone so we’re a bit lost.”

Ladybug ignored him and stepped up to Red Hood with a broad, artificial smile. “Just want to say thank you so much for your service,” she purred.

Red Hood bobbed his head back and tried to take a step away, he was familiar with crazy, Harley had trained them all pretty well, and he would prefer to have some kind of point of reference to know if it was the fun crazy or someone’s going to die crazy. Unfortunately for him, he was already standing on the edge of the roof and had no place to go. “Wha...”

Before he could finish snapping at her, she kicked him hard in the chest. He tried to flail his arms, but his wrists were still bound together. Not only could he not flail, he couldn’t try to scramble at the side of the building to slow his descent. Nightwing jumped after him, but before he could reach him, a green shield appeared beneath him, not slowing his descent, but clearly there to keep him from hitting the lava.

Red Robin watched them long enough to make sure they would be okay before turning back to watch the Miraculous team just in time to see Ladybug, and therefore Chat, who was riding on her shoulders, get launched by the input force from her yoyo line, like taut line snapping and recoiling when the counterweight disappeared. Just as they reached the apex, there were a few flute notes played and Chat disappeared, but within seconds, ‘Cataclysm’ echoed over and between the buildings and Ladybug was moving smoothly and quickly over the rooftops toward the akuma.

Her yoyo line retracted with a speed that defied physics and was released again. He was only able to track it due to the glowing light it emitted before she reeled it back in. Rena whispered something he couldn’t understand before stepping up next to him with a huge grin and looking over the side. “It’s over now, you can come back up.”

Carapace patted Red Robin on the shoulder. “That was fun. We should do that again. I enjoyed working with you.”

Red Robin peeked over the side of the building to verify Nightwing was giving Red Hood a ride back up with the grappling hook before returning his attention to Carapace with a smirk. “I agree. Best collaboration we’ve had in a while.”

Rena turned her attention to Red Robin with an excited grin. ‘Hey, so,” she continued speaking uninterrupted even as a swarm of ladybugs flew all around them removing the lava, repairing the buildings, returning Nightwing and Red Hood to the roof, and Red Hood’s guns to his holsters. She motioned toward Nightwing without breaking eye contact with Red Robin. “He mentioned you guys communicate through looks. How do you do that when you all have the film over your eyes?”

“Experience,” a gruff voice answered from behind her.

Rena spun around and let out a squeal as Batman stepped out of the shadows to announce his presence. “That was so cool!”

“That’s why he does it,” Nightwing joked.

“Who does what?” Chat asked as he landed next to Red Robin just seconds before Ladybug.

“Batman,” she acknowledged instantly, her eyes finding him before she’d landed. Chat, however, screamed and jumped away in surprise, almost ending up in Red Robin’s arms. She continued without missing a beat. “It is nice to…”

Before she could continue, Red Hood barreled over to her, not stopping until he was towering over her, his massive body, seemingly even larger due to his armor, looming over her. “You could have killed me!” he thundered in a dark, cold voice.

Instead of being intimidated as he was used to, she crossed her arms over her chest with an unimpressed scoff. “I kicked you in the chest plate.”

“You didn’t know,” he accused.

“I felt it earlier. I knew you would be fine,” she snarled back but then she straightened up and opened her eyes wide in a perfect imitation of the innocence she usually embodied. “And you were so concerned with helping save the day I just knew you would want to help.” She almost kept the façade up except for a slight quirk of her lip when Chat snickered.

"Oh, you're starting a war you aren't prepared for, little girl," he growled.

She raised an eyebrow and leaned back like she was contemplating him. “I just defeated a lava monster. I think I’ll be just fine with little old you. And just because you’re bigger, it doesn’t mean you’re older, tougher, or smarter. It just means you have more capacity for bullshit.”

“Being smaller doesn’t mean you have less bullshit; it just means it’s more concentrated,” he hissed back.

Ladybug opened her mouth to respond but Chat cut in. “While I think there’s room for both to be true, this is not what is important right now.”

“Hood, we have more important things to discuss,” Batman barked. “Ladybug, I believe we had some things to discuss.”

Ladybug turned to Batman with a forced smile. “Sorry, I was distracted.”

“Don’t worry about it. He can be very distracting,” Red Robin assured her.

“The incompetent ones usually are,” she snipped back without moving her eyes from Batman.

Red Hood took a menacing step forward, but Nightwing put his arm out in front of his chest and silently pushed him back. “Let’s go somewhere a bit less exposed,” Batman suggested pointedly.

Ladybug nodded and motioned to a rooftop nearby. “There’s a bit more room over there and Rena can provide cover and Carapace can provide a sound barrier.”

“Perfect,” Batman nodded and grappled after her.

Nightwing kept his hold on Red Hood until she had already landed on the rooftop, far out of his reach. “You’re going to have to figure out how to work with her,” he warned Red Hood. “If she’s as good as I think she is, we’re going to be working with her a lot.”

“She threw me off of a building!” Hood hissed at him.

“No,” Nightwing smirked, “she kicked you off a building. And who hasn't?”

“Me. I haven't,” Carapace popped up next to them. “Can I?”

Hood turned to him slowly, pointedly. Even through the mask, it was clear he was glaring. “No.”

Carapace took a step back, hands held up. “Ooookay,” he shrugged. “Little disappointed, dude, not going to lie. You guys good to get over on your own or need help?”

Nightwing covered his mouth with his hand to hide his snicker. “No, we’re good. Be right there.”

“Rightio.” He saluted them and was gone.

“We won’t have to work with her if I take her out,” Hood observed, a bit too darkly to be joking.

“You can't kill her. Wonder woman loves her. Thinks of her like a little sister because of the whole her mom was Ladybug thing,” he pointed out with a smirk. “You’re going to have to work with her.

“But I’m pretty positive she's evil,” he huffed. He shot out his grappling hook to swing over to the meeting.

“Honestly, kinda surprised that doesn't make you like her more,” Nightwing chuckled. He suddenly straightened up, face bright with excitement. “Or! Focus on taking her out… on a date!” His laughter returned full force, echoing over the rooftops, at the glare he could feel Jason sending him from under his mask as he swung away. “This is going to be fun,” he giggled to himself before grappling to join the others.

#maribat #jasonette #jasonette july #jasonette july 2024 #Pretty Petty Series

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ashascoven · 8 months ago

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❃☆ showering w/ the pyromaniac rat man ☆❃ pt. 2

☆ the demons im fighting to post this... the embarrassment is REAL!!

☆ anyways, hi! this is the part 2 to my junkrat x reader fanfic, except.. this one's.. smutty / NSFW

☆ here is the first part of the fanfic, it's also just on my profile, but you can very much enjoy this without needing pt. 1 !!!

☆ FANFIC DEETS! junkratxreader ☆

THIS IS SMUT / NSFW, meaning it is 18+

reader is a female who's known for working with plants, plant themed nicknames and female genitals are used here

praise, stuttering, edging, mostly dom jamie + fluff?? its intense out here yall..

want a playlist to shuffle to while reading? here's the one i made to write this to <3, i promise it's a hot listen!!

☆ FOR READERS WHO ARE JUST HERE FOR THE SMUT but would like to know about pt 1. without reading it!

part 1 was essentially about the reader and junkrat being sent on a duo mission together. they're temporarily staying in a semi-abandoned hut that resides in a struggling town targeted by Talon, a well-feared terrorist group. anyway, junkrat's annoying and stinky to sleep with, but he likes being cuddled! so, he agreed to only shower (with the reader) if they cuddled under the water of a decently sized shower-room. the reader ends up bathing him, and junkrat opens up about himself, thanking the reader for not treating him differently. this leads to "cuddles"..

“Oh screw you, mate!”

“You probably would.”

“Ya know what? Maybe I woul-” He stopped himself from immediately snapping back, covering his mouth like his life depended on it. His eyes were wide, and yours were closed shut from your own laughter.

“Pfft!! You know what? Fine! Yeah, sure!!” You yawn-giggled, putting your soap and loofah to the side and leaning your back against his chest with a closed eyed smile.

“Uh-huh?? W-what're ya’.. d-doin’, mate??”

“Didn’t you say you wanted.. uh, bath cuddles? Surely you wouldn't mind holding me instead right nooww..” You yawned.

“O-Ohoh! Phew!! Seems like it’s my turn n’ cuddlin’ a fine lookin’ celebrity!” He giggled, not minding a single bit in being able to lowkey return the favor of you cuddling him earlier and cleaning him now.

He happily wrapped his lanky arms around your waist again, his hands landing a little further than intended and was resting on a certain area of yours, but it wasn't on purpose.

This woke you up, and with a little slight gasp at the touch, “I-I.. Jamie..-”

"Oh! W-wait! I-.. Sorry! It.. w-wasn't intended, my brain’s just lost from our talkin’, I swear, mate-!”

“I wasn't complaining..” You admitted painfully.

As if the shower steam wasn't strong enough, a guilty blush overheated your face.

“I-I.. Oh… O-oh..??!?”

“I w-wouldn't mind it if… ya know..” You slowly put your hand above his. You don't know what came over, but you couldn't find it in yourself to ask directly.

“..n-not that i-i’d force it or a-anything! I mean, we a-are still on a mission on after all and we aren't.. even.. together like that!? My mind wandered t-too far anywa-”

“o-ooh~.. J-Jamie..?” You gasped in surprise, not expecting him to actually go through with it.

“lettin’ ya know i’m.. probably not the best a’it..” He hovered over you from behind, mumbling into your ear. His fingers started rubbing between your legs.

“haah.. I-It’s okay, but y-you really.. oh god~..! y-you don't have t-to- mmh..” You fumbled on your words, your back leaning deeper against him.

“shh,” he hushed you, his robotic hand covering your mouth gently as his normal one kept rubbing you, “I’ve got ya’ now.”

“m-mmh.. hnnmhh~..” You moaned into the sealed metal, feeling your hips slowly grind against his fingers. Your hands were now gripping on both of his arms, but you didn't want out.

“just- let me help ya out.. least I could do for a pretty princess..” His voice was a bit more serious, but it made your heart race. You really didn't expect to see this bolder side of him so soon.

He moved the hand from your mouth to one side of your chest, giving it tender squeezes and pinches that earned loud moans out of you.

“a-aah! Jamie~!” You screamed out, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“i’m listenin’, my angel”

It was as if he knew all of the right ways to tend to your buds, ways you could've sworn only you grew to know. The running water also helped touch all of your body, making your senses go wild.

“whew doll.. ya’ sound like sugar n’ sweets to my ears, surely you.. taste the same?” He breathed out, starting to bite down at your exposed neck.

He switched hands, his metallic one now tending to your garden below as his normal fingers played with your other breast. The temperature difference in metal to skin made shivers of excitement run through you upon much contact.

To say he was good at multitasking would be an understatement; he was amazing at it.

“agh! nngh..” was all you managed to get out before continuing your cries of pleasure and repeating his name. All of the sensational spells he had you under only made you so drunk for more.

“i knoow, me’ sunflower..~ le’it all out for me..”

“you’ree soo pretty soundin’.. i could take your beauty in like this aaalll daayy..” He could feel his ears get warm from his own words, grateful to be able to practically worship such a beauty in this moment.

“aaaah~.. p-pleeaaasee..!”

“you're doin’ so good for me,” he praised, his fingers getting quicker, “this feels nice, don't it?”

He rubbed those two magical fingers in all the right circles that had your toes curling for more.

You never wanted him to stop.

“y-yeeaah~.. I-I’m.. alreeaady c-cloose..!” You whined, your hands finding a place to grip on his thighs. You felt your back arch as you neared your release.

His hand below your waist moved even quicker. The other hand that was squeezing your breast moved downward to help your heated area, slightly spreading your folds open with two fingers as he tended to your pearl.

Then, he suddenly slowed down, just enough for you to not reach the top of the hill yet. Earning a whiny moan out of you, the knot in your stomach subsided from the painful change of pace.

“mmmh.. w-why'd youu haaave to stopp..?”

“not yet.. ‘m not done with ya’ just yet, doll..” He breathed out, moving both of his hands to hold at your love handles. You felt himself press against your back as he buried his stubble-haired chin into your neck. He felt.. excited.

“mmghhhh… waarrmm..” He snuggled against you once again, using this moment to take you in a more cozier way. His hands moved up to your chest again, slowly kneading into your softness.

It was honestly kind of like a warning, knowing this man who’s enjoying himself just from hugging you is probably about to absolutely ruin you.

His height? His touchiness? The way he sweet-talked you? All of those things said it all, and you were so into it.

You shuffled around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. His hands made their way to your ass.

He still managed to enjoy cuddling your neck as you moved, letting out a moan at the way one of your hands reached into his now semi-wet hair.

“crikey, I don't think ya’ even.. know what you're doing to me, lady..” He groaned into your neck, before starting to leave a trail of marked kisses going upwards to your chin.

“aah..ahah, I can definitely feel it.” You moaned into a chuckle, trying to kiss his nose as he kissed your face.

His grip on you tightened as the kisses you two shared grew more passionate.

His lips, slightly unchapped from the water, pressed against yours. Both of you leaned into one another with closed eyes, dancing around each other's tongues and enjoying the tango under the shower’s rain.

You loved the way his mouth felt, how it felt like a new cavern to explore while preparing for the real ride he had waiting for you. The way his gold teeth felt slightly different from the rest that your tongue grazed over made you soak into how real all of this was.

As badly as you wanted him to take you at your core, you enjoyed kissing him up here too. You could get used to this. <3

One of his hands made its way up to your hair, it now being his turn to run his fingers through it. The way he massaged at your scalp as he took his time searching you with his lips made you moan into the kiss.

“mm, you're soo.. pretty..” He muttered, pulling away for a couple seconds before going back to attack your lips. This made you smile against his face, unconsciously pressing yourself closer to his body.

He'd do this a couple more times, murmuring about your beauty in-between catching his breath.

He didn't need open eyes to know that the person he was about to ravish was beautiful.

He could feel your body against his, the way yours still managed to be softer and hotter despite being under the same water as him, and this drove him wild.

His lips moved back to your neck, his kisses going lower and lower.

He made sure to kiss any mark and crease his mouth could find before eventually having you against a wall with his arms wrapped around your legs.

He was basically laying on his stomach, your hands struggling to hold yourself up as he held at your lower body, fully ready to eat you up like ice cream on a hot summer day.

“so.. gorgeous…” He marveled at your display for him, making you silently look to the side in your own embarrassment.

As soon as he started kissing at your core, you felt your nails nearly scratch into the tiles you were sitting on, the fluttery feeling from before making way to your stomach once again.

“aaahh~.. James..” You gasped, your eyes squinting in pleasure.

He kissed all around, making sure to let his mouth tease at your petals.

His tongue traveled inwards when you were quieter, and outwards when you whined for him. He purposely ran it over your bud, swirling around your clit the way his fingers did before, only to slow down when you got louder.

It was a cycle of teasing you and figuring out what made you squeal, just so he could eat you out for as long as he wanted. <3

“J-Jamie..! ohh, g-god..! please~! it f-feels so~oo.. so g-good..” You panted and stuttered a storm for this man, your brain melting to mush at the way he handled you.

You had no chance at being wet on your own; his tongue soaked in all of your juices for him to swallow, quickly replacing it with the wetness of his own mouth.

His hands gripped harder at your thighs. He couldn't get enough of the way you smelled and tasted.

You smelled so.. natural, and tasted so-so-so delicious. His bomb-driven brain couldn't process it any better than going faster with his tongue.

“..nngh~! J-Jami-.. Jami~soonn..! s-so c-close~!”

Your hips rode at his face and his grasp on your legs, one arm shaking at holding yourself up while the other pulled at his cloudy hair.

He groaned at the hair pulling, slithering one of his arms from holding your legs down to help tend to your core.

Two of his fingers made it inside, making your freed leg rise and spread further from all of the pleasure. The hand you had in his hair was now covering your own mouth, desperately biting at your knuckle from being so overwhelmed in the steamy tension.

You didn't know what to do with yourself, your hand immediately making it back into Jamison’s hair as you kept crying his name.

“h-huff.. Jaa~mie..!”

You breathing his name out the way you did made him pump his fingers more quicker, the sound of you being so wet for him making his lower stomach ache more for you.

His fingers curled into you as his tongue focused on circling your clit, occasionally dipping into its hood and making your whole lower body twitch in rhythm with his movements.

It was too much now, and you were gonna burst.

“a-aah! I-I'm..~ I'm g-gonna..! hnnghh~..! nngh-!”

With the last flicks of his tongue on you, you came, your release making you roll your eyes back in pure ecstasy.

Catching your breath, you struggled to focus on Jamison, looking at the top of his hair rise with a daze in your eyes.

He pulled away proudly, admiring his work as you slowly oozed all over his fingers.

The sudden air replacing his tongue and caressing your bare sweetness made your liquids come out with more sudden pressure, truly a sight for him to behold.

He took you in fully with his half-lidded eyes.. the way you closed your eyes and panted because of him, the way your hips buckled in pleasure because of him, the way you were turned on and sent to heaven because of him.. he felt honored.

He reached down to taste you one more time, just to drink at what you had just served him. With some of it dripping from the tip of his nose, he raised himself up with a smile.

“..t-that was the bomb, wasn't it-?”

Now, what he didn't expect was for you to immediately tackle him down afterwards, your lips once again pressed into his.

He grunted in surprise, but happily kissed you back and ran his hands all over your waist.

You pulled away from him with your hands holding his face, staring into his love-drunk eyes with your own of the currently same type.

Your noses were touching, lips nearly doing the same, and the tension that was once released found its way back again.

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything yet, so you spoke through attacking his neck with your own mouth, giving him a taste of his own gunpowder.

The way he looked under the dimmed light and running water made you want to just litter his body in kisses, and god he loved it.

“o-ohh..! d-doll.. mmgh..”

It was his turn to seep into a melty mess, nearly drooling at the way you pecked kisses onto his Adam's apple.

Both of your hands were now on his shoulders as you made your way all over his chest, moving down to his sides.

You left hickies all over his body, the ones you left near his v-line making him squirm the most in his spot.

Your legs held him down, your warmer spot dangerously close to his, but you made sure to make the most of this position, continuing your kissing while grinding against the waist area right above his cock.

Being able to feel the prickly hairs down there rub against you only fueled the fire between you two more.

He groaned under you, throwing his head back with a ‘oh, you've really done it..~’

You looked up at him as you made your way down to his legs, your fingers already teasing the tip of his dick.

He squinted at you with a blush all over his face, all over his body even, shamefully covering his mouth with his metal hand for the time being.

“o-oh? I see now,” you chuckled, “someone wants my help, y-yeah?”

Guiltily, he nodded his head, groaning into his arm as you tended to him.

Your body was still recovering from before, so you saved your shaky voice, reaching for his free hand, guiding it to his own shaft and starting to make him rub himself.

Your hand was resting over his as you slowly brought it up and down, occasionally kissing him or his waist.

He didn't think you could've turned him on anymore than he already was, but he was so wrong.

He felt like he was flying, your desirable pecks on his body making him whine even more into his arm in bliss. The way your mouth and hands felt so perfect on his body made his longing to be inside of you much more stronger than he thought was ever possible.

You started to kiss all over his tip, your tongue slowly making way to the skin right below it. Your teasing tongue made his busy hand move to your head once again, your own hand now working on its own.

Up and down, up and down, you rubbed him, making sure to look up at him every time your mouth made it onto the top of his hard member, each kiss making a ‘pop’ that caused him to twitch in even more pleasure.

“g-gosh, woman.. y-you’re reeaall- mmh.. good a’this..”

“..mmhhmm..?”

“y-you're so done when i get to ya’- oouh~..”

“mmmmhh..” you responded, moaning as you took most of his length into your mouth.

His legs were already weak at how warm your throat felt around him. The grasp he had on your scalp tightened as you moved with your mouth, making sure to really suck at his cock and cover it in your spit.

“augh..~” he threw his head back as he unconsciously started to push at your head every time you went down, “j-just like that.. o-oh yeah..~”

His sides shuddered every time your teeth slightly grazed over his foreskin, making him slowly thrust himself into your mouth. Your hands held at his legs as you enjoyed the taste of him.

His slightly salted taste made your insides throb impatiently to feel him. His largeness made you daringly excited, so you kept swishing your tongue all over, desperate to keep the taste of his liquids in your mouth.

“m-mmgh.. o-ohoh.. this f-feels.. amazing~..”

“i w-wanna be inside o-of you.. soo~oo baad, princess..~”

“dooll~ please..”

You took it on yourself to climb back onto him, quickly positioning him into your entrance and slowly letting yourself down on it.

“mgghh.. p-princess~..” He groaned, his hands quickly finding their way to your sides.

“aah.. ohh J-Jamie..!” You followed, your hands on his shoulders as you started to let yourself adjust his length.

God, he was so big, and so tough; he felt like caramel inside of you, hardened like caramel candy and wet like syrup all at the same time.

Those butterflies in your chest wasted no time expanding down to your core, eventually reaching all over your body. You felt like jittery honey, your tight sweetness wrapping around him in eager neediness.

You needed him, you needed him real bad.

Your hips were tired, but the pleasure made it worth pushing through. You had to lean on him, your chest of perked out buds rubbing against his as you slowly started to move.

He felt something surge through his bones, making his hold on your sides turn into him pounding your softness onto his cock in desperation.

“h-hngh-! a-aah.. b-big..! ha-aah..”

His excitement didn't give you much time to adjust, earning all sorts of whines and squeaks out of you, but you couldn't complain.

His magic tongue from earlier had prepared you more than enough for what was to come.

His length reached all the right spots in your warmth, you already felt so full of it, so full of him..

“hnngh.. you're so.. r-ready for me, aren't ya’?”

“y-yeahh~.. b-been so- aah~! s-so.. ready..!” You huffed out, your face burning endless heat waves.

“yeah you aare.. mmh, so w-warm.. y-you're so..~ hot..” He groaned into your ear, his breath making you shiver in enjoyment.

His praise and gruff voice vibrated through your whole body as he panted between sentences, eagerly thrusting into you.

You were so addicting to him, being inside of you was like opening his senses to a new world of paradise.

He felt himself lose his bearings, thinking of nothing but getting to release all over that pretty body of yours.. getting to admire his work on an ethereal body of art known as you. Whatever he was groaning out about loving your body was unconscious yet so filled with his thoughts.

“need t-to.. take you i-in moore~..” You felt your body try to encapsulate his length deeper into you, but this upright position wasn't enough, and he sensed that too.

Wasting no time in grabbing at your legs, he pushed you onto the tiled floor, now hovering over your laying body with his cock still buried deep into you. He continued his thrusts, his nails nearly digging into the back of your thighs.

“a-aah~! it feels.. h-huff, s-so good-.. p-please~! don't e-ever stop.. nngh..! b-begging-!”

The excitement to get to lick and kiss you all over when he was finished only made him move more quicker, more vigorously.

All he could think about was you, how you looked in every intimate moment you two had just spent together.. how you were going to look, absolutely soaking in his hard work, all wet and heated because of him.

He couldn't even think of anyone, or anything else, just you.

He raised your legs over his shoulders, his face warming up more at the way your stomach pudged together as he kept moving inside of you. He couldn’t stop internally gushing about how real and natural you were about everything, how any type of acne or hair you had made you all the more alluring to him.

“J-jamie~..! y-you’re.. amazing~! aah, g-god..!”

His mind got lost into how pretty you sounded.. how you called his name, praising him and pleading for him.. He was so lost into you, fucking you ruthlessly just to keep taking you in, just to keep inhaling you like some sort of addiction. He was so damn addicted, who even knew when he planned on ever stopping?

Slowly, he started putting one of your legs back to its previous position, trying to get an even deeper angle at reaching your insides. One arm was wrapped around the leg on his shoulder for support, the other making its way downwards.

“you take me.. s-soo~o well~.. augh~..”

“d-damn right i do..~ a-aagh, r-right there..~!”

Your hands squeezed at your own chest, neck, and ran through your own hair, sometimes reaching to touch at his waist. You didn’t know where you wanted to grab, too dazed into the moment to care.

He couldn’t help his hands from really touching you again, his thumb finger rubbing your clit, knowing that it’d make you feel even more great.

Your pleasure was his pleasure, the way you looked and felt made him feel like the luckiest man on Earth just for breathing the same air as you.. He had the honor of making a queen feel good, burying himself further and further into your guts.

“i-i’m.. so f-fuckin’ close~! k-keep going..! y-yeah~.. i’m s-so- aah~! p-please-.. so c-clo~ose..!”

You were so fucked stupid, all you could get out were pleas of never wanting this to end.

Any thoughts about being tired or annoyed by this man were long gone; only wanting the feeling of his thrusts, kisses, and rubbing to never end.

“J-jamie~! Jamie-! I..- I’m~!”

“let it aaall outt~.. i’m a-almost there too, l-love~..” He huffed, making sure that he moved fast enough to get you both over the edge.

“aaahh~!.. J-jamie.. mmhh~..”

“mmgh..~”

The feeling of that blissful knot below your stomach releasing itself was holy on its own, the sensations from all over your body coming together to relieve you with such a well earned orgasm.

He followed right after, pumping himself deep inside of you with a relieved sigh. Both of his hands were now pinning yours against the floor, your legs curled up on their own.

He made sure to really take in this moment, slowly pulling himself out with one hand and watching as you were dripping in his liquid.

The way he pulled out of you felt so warm and icy at the same time, the air of the room hitting your bare, sensitive areas once again. With the now-cold running water, the heat masking both of your bodies drifted down the drains.

He marveled at your body, admiring in awe at how you were truly such a masterpiece. No bomb or heist could’ve made him as satisfied or joyful as he was with what you two had just accomplished.

It felt like all of the hairs on your body raised from all of the build up, only to calm back down with ease. Your muscles were definitely sore, but you were too starstruck at the handsome man above you for it to even be painful.

The only thing you were consciously doing right now was looking into his eyes, panting, and feeling yourself flow out onto the tiles just to be washed away by the water.

The temperature switch stung your weak bud, making you twitch ever so slightly, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You felt so relieved, and any tension or frustration in your body was now gone.

He took in the way that your chest rose and fell after what you two had just done, falling to your side and kissing graciously at your face.

You let yourself melt into his lips again, kissing him back here and there.

Suddenly, you felt a sneaky hand holding a loofa make its way to your back.

“..are you trying to clean me up right now?”

“I.. was the one who.. made the mess all over ya’..”

“It’s fine.. We should just dry ourselves off and head to bed-”

“B-but I need to wash you off, mate!”

“You’re one to talk about someone else needing to be washed..”

“W-well! You’re one to talk considerin’ how I had ya’ laid out 2 minutes ago!”

“..Your point? If you wanna do me again, just say that, ‘mate’ <3 ”

“(；⌣̀_⌣́)”

☆ once again, if anyone actually makes it this far, tysm for reading! feedback is always 100% welcomed and appreciated

☆ i may continue this fic more if people end up liking it, but i also have other fanfics in the making along with a soon-to-be request page!!! >:D

☆ i dunno how i got this finished honestly.. i mean i finished multiple times but still.

☆ literally feeling like that "passed out 8 times but your cinnamon rolls are done sir!" except the rolls are just this fanfic.. fighting DEMONS i tell you, DEMONS!!!

☆ this is my first time writing an australian accent, so if there's any mistakes anywhere pls lmk!! hit my line yall, i dont bite >:D

☆ thank you, eat + stay hydrated, and enjoy your night/day!

#jamison fawkes #junkrat #junkrat x reader #ow2 #overwatch #ow2 junkrat #fanfic #overwatch x reader #smut #lemon #fanfiction

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slimybeth69 · 7 days ago

Text

Thirst: Part 6

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: There's a bunch y'all and I'm not giving any of them away because it would spoil the chapter. So, this is your warning: 18+ themes after the cut!! BEWARE!!!!

Chapter Summary: Your life in the tower was a thing of the past- is that a good thing?

a/n: Heyyyyy, so I've been the most nervous about THIS chapter since I started writing this story. It's... different. So have fun!! And also lets imagine that bows and arrows don't exist. (This is non-canon to the movie)

Series Masterlist

Your beautiful tower is a thing of the past. It’s been days since you slept there – or even stepped foot inside it.

Now that you're no longer in your wonderful room, with its big soft mattress and comfortable sheets, you're forced to share a bed with someone you do not like. It’s all too reminiscent of when you were living at the brothel – except the man you were now forced into such close proximity with didn’t even want to touch you.

Hanno The Barbarian is what the Emperors had called him.

You are sure they had hoped he would rape you, or kill you, but instead he treats you as if you do not exist.

You were supposed to be the one to service him after his fights, should he be fortunate enough to survive. You would have, but apparently he is just one more man who won't let you touch him. It feels as though the gods are laughing at you.

From what you have observed, Hanno isn't like the rest of the brutish men who fight and die in the pit. He's quiet. He’s never impulsive. At times he almost seems gentle. Though he’s undefeated and feared for his ferocity in the games, you wonder whether he would hurt anyone at all if he were given the choice.

Hanno won't speak to you or let you attend to his injuries. You might as well not even be there.

How did you end up here? For a time, it seemed like there was a chance of putting the girl you’d been behind you. You wouldn’t always be another girl who was bought and sold to ease the worries or fulfill the pleasures of men. For a time, you thought it might even be possible to feel loved and cared about.

You had actually begun to feel that contentment – for a few brief moments – before the fantasy dissolved with the arrival of a slave trader at your door.

There had been no guards outside your quarters, no handmaids to explain to you what was happening. There was just this man with his charming smile and soothing voice, delivering terrible news.

“Acacius said your time together has come to an end. You need to come with me.”

General Marcus Acacius had sold you.

You felt numb as you took the man’s hand and left your rooms, but with each step down the staircase that numbness was replaced by a deep ache in your chest. It felt like someone had extracted your heart, carved ‘foolish’ into the flesh, and then replaced it back inside your broken ribs.

After the night you had shared, Marcus had abandoned you without a word. He never told you where he was going, or when he’d be back.

How could you have been so naive? to let yourself set your hopes on his beautiful empty words.

Of course it was too good to be true.

He had sold you to be a new plaything for the emperors, and he had been too much of a coward to hand you over himself.

When you arrived at the palace, the memory of those tender promises he'd whispered to you—promises of a new life in a new place—turned to burning, bitter rage. You let that rage fill your chest, burying whatever hurt still remained.

Like spoiled children, the twins hated to see anyone enjoying something that they didn’t have, and the favored pet of their recalcitrant general was the ultimate prize.

It was no secret that the twins had wanted to see what all the fuss had been about but you refused them violently each time.

Even with the threat of torture and then eventual death, you never folded. Never once let them put their hands on you.

You had smiled in their faces when the guards dragged you from their bed chambers sneering, "Death is better than the little one's weeping cock."

That’s how you ended up down here though, in the gladiatorial bathhouse, watching Hanno soak.

“Does it hurt badly?” You nod your head towards the relatively large gash on his left pectoral.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even look at you when he shrugs his shoulders.

There is a moment where you want to shove his head under the water and hold him there. Then, there is the part of you that knows he isn’t here because he would like to be. He is a prisoner just like you.

With a loud sigh and a roll of your eyes, you grab the clean rag on the side of the stone tub and dip it into the warm water. Instead of reaching out to him, trying to do it yourself, you just hand him the now dripping piece of cloth.

Hanno stares at it for a moment, as though this is a foreign gesture to him. Kindness. Care.

“I know you understand me, I know you can speak as well,” you urge him to take what’s in your hand, and wave the other towards the iron barred door. “I’ve heard you talking to the others.”

“Why is it so important that I speak to you?” His voice is much deeper up close and when he’s not whispering to the healing men that come to stitch up the fighters, or the other gladiators themselves.

It’s jarring how his voice plucks at each one of your veins like the strings of an instrument. You’re almost vibrating off the side of the tub. “It’s not important, it’s just nice to have someone to talk to. Instead of just talking to myself…or the wall.”

Hanno snorts softly and takes the rag from you. He dips it back into the steaming water and lifts it gently to his chest. He winces and sucks air in between his clenched teeth.

“I knew it hurt,” you tease him lightly.

His eyes shoot up to yours, like he’s angry with you for even speaking– there’s a darkness to them that you’ve never seen before, but there is also a smirk playing across his lips. “You talk too much,” he growls and now the smirk feels malicious with the way his eyes are narrowed on you.

“Now I wonder why I ever wanted you to start talking,” you grumble, feeling foolish for trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve been down here with you for days, and that is the first thing you can say to me?” You try to swallow down the lump that’s forming in your throat. “I didn’t banish you to these cells. I’m stuck here, just like you.”

Hanno releases the now crimson-stained cloth into the murky water. "I apologize," he murmurs, but his words echo in the eerie stillness of the dungeon. "Everything here seems like a twisted joke..."

“What do you mean?”

The water sloshes against the side of the tub lightly as he sinks further into the comforting warmth. You think it might be the only comfort Hanno receives anywhere in this place.

It’s more comfort than you’ve been able to find, and you’ve been searching. Looking for something safe and constant since long before you became a plaything for the Emperors.

"You..." Hanno trails off, his tone rising in a question rather than a statement.

Your nostrils flare in defense, “...have been discarded by the ones I love and treated like an animal by the morally depraved—” Your words come out bitterly because it is true.

“You call me depraved?” He hisses, “Have you seen those men dripping in gold, wearing lavish robes—”

“Who do you think appointed me to be your special companion ? You thought I volunteered for this?" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I would give anything to just go home.”

This is your home now, unfortunately. A cell shared with a gladiator. What happens if Hanno is able to buy his freedom? Or, more likely, when he’s finally killed in the pit? What will you do then?

"What brought you here, to Rome?" he asks, turning the conversation back to you.

“Money.” The word slips out before you can stop it, it’s wrapped up in sadness and a hint of disdain. "My family was struggling, our farm was failing, and the taxes were impossible. And not out of cruelty, but desperation— I became the price of its survival."

Hanno's expression shifts to something that resembles pity, tangled with a strange understanding. "So your family sold you to the Emperors?" he asks, running the wet cloth across his wounded chest.

"I was sold to a brothel and then bought by a man, and then sold again to a different man who then brought me here." You shake your head at your sad story of a life. "The Emperors wanted to bed me, but I fought them, told them I would rather die—"

"So they sent you down here?" He laughs, but you don't get the impression he's laughing at you or your misfortune. It's almost a chuckle of disbelief. "Worse than death, I assume— for someone like you."

"That was their thinking, but apparently they chose the one gladiator that has no interest in getting his cock wet." You can't help but feel like that alone is a win. Hanno hasn’t hurt you, so they don't get the satisfaction. They lost.

The iron door suddenly clangs open. A guard appears and he looms in the doorway, "Cleaning time is over," he barks. "Back to your cell."

Marcus groans loudly as Lucilla finishes straightening the clasps that hold his cape around his shoulders.

“Can’t you act as if you don’t hate doing this?” Lucilla asks with a sour look on her face. “You and I both know they get a rise out of the fact that you do not enjoy-”

“I just came back from the road and barely had time to wash my ass,” Marcus grumbles, letting his wife adjust the golden clasps on his cape. "This is just another way for them to show me that I’m under their thumbs, but not for much longer—"

Lucilla scolds him softly,“You cannot speak that way, not here.” She glances around nervously, looking for ears that may be listening to conversations that aren’t meant for them. “You act as if we are already free,” she whispers almost silently in his ear.

Marcus will always have love for Lucilla in his heart, that’s why he knows he would never leave her behind to fend for herself.

Lucilla had been through so much in her life— the murder of her father, the corruption and cruelty of her brother, Commodus, and ultimately Maximus.

After Commodus was killed, Lucilla did not have one blood relative to keep her safe here in Rome- to protect her. As an upcoming General, Marcus knew that the only way to ensure her safety was to marry her.

The Colosseum is loud, chaotic, and packed with spectators. It's too hot, and there isn't enough wine for Marcus to pretend he’s enjoying himself. He sits rigid and uncomfortable in the imperial box.

The twins, Geta and Caracalla, sit just in front of Marcus and his wife.

Caracalla looks over his shoulder, "Enjoying the spectacle, General?"

"As always, Emperor." Marcus knows better than to show any sign of discomfort. Years of military training have taught him to maintain a neutral expression, even as his mind races with thoughts of you.

Alone in that forsaken room, longer than ever before. He knows you probably hate him, and he’ll have to make it up to you. He would do whatever it took, he just wishes he didn’t have to.

"We have a special match today. One you might find…interesting." Geta says with a mirthless chuckle

Marcus wonders what the hell that could mean. The fights always end in one way – many men dead and only one victor. This is truly a sport invented by men who have only known the comfort of a palace. Real soldiers have seen too much death to find entertainment in it.

The roar of the crowd grows louder as two gladiators enter the arena. Marcus recognizes one of them as the newest fighter— The Barbarian. He’s made a name for himself in the pit and impresses Marcus with his strength and cunning every time.

Lucilla has even taken an interest in him, and that’s very unlike her. This brutal sport only brings up painful memories for her, but Marcus notices her leaning forward in her chair, trying to get a better view of the fighter.

The roar of the crowd becomes a drone as Marcus’s mind drifts to you again – wondering where you are, what you're doing.

The last time he saw you had been the morning after your shared night together. You were begging him not to go with tears rolling down your face. It broke his heart every time he had to pull his hands out of yours, surprised by your strength when you were so desperate for him to stay close to you.

Once this fight was over, Marcus would run straight to you. He would kiss your tears away, lick them off your cheeks and whisper apologies in your ear.

He would never be away from you ever again. Tonight was the night that the three of you would escape the necrotic touch of the Emperors.

“Does The Barbarian look familiar to you at all?” Lucilla’s quiet voice in his ear brings him back to the arena, and the two men fighting— well, no, it’s just the young man now. His opponent was dead at his feet.

Marcus takes a closer glance at the man- barely a man, a boy really. There is a certain familiarity in the way he stood. Even the way he fought was like something or someone Marcus had seen before, but he couldn’t place it.

“I’m not sure,” he turns to look at his wife and sees the worry behind her eyes. “Do you recognize him?”

Lucilla doesn’t get a chance to answer.

The loud booming voice of the announcer fills the arena once again. "The Barbarian is once again— victorious!" He bellows.

The crowd goes wild. The new gladiator has been a favorite since he arrived in Rome as a prisoner of war. A war that Marcus had brought to that young man's land and home. That was the story of many of these gladiators, and Marcus tried to forget their faces at night but it was nearly impossible.

"General, are you listening?" Geta is standing beside Marcus now, whispering in his ear. "You'll want to be sure to hear this…"

Marcus dials back into what is being said by the announcer.

"…very interesting game to play!"

He only catches the last bit, and now he strains his eyes to see what's happening in the sandy pit below him.

The Barbarian is being handed another sword by a guard who runs back into one of the tunnels that lead into the arena.

"Our victor has one more opponent to fight, a beast with fur, teeth and razor sharp claws!" The man announcing makes a grand show with the thematic way he talks. "But this is no ordinary fight, our Barbarian has something very important to protect!"

This was quite interesting. Marcus has never seen a fight like this before.

"Bring in 'The Golden Girl'"

For a moment, this means nothing to Marcus and he wonders who the new female gladiator could be.

It's not until you walk out, wearing a gown that mimics the tunic he's wearing now- white and gold - that he realizes what has happened.

Marcus’s hands tense on the arms of the chair as he tries to steady his breathing.

The Barbarian turns to face you as you quickly make your way to him, but his stance is protective, not aggressive. Something about the way he looks at you, the way he pushes you behind him, suggests he knows you.

Marcus isn’t sure he understands what’s going on— you don’t have fur or teeth, or razor sharp claws. You’re far from a beast.

Lucilla's hand finds Marcus's arm, her grip is tight, as though she senses something is wrong. "What’s going to happen to that girl?" she whispers. Marcus glances at her, watching her eyes darting between you, the Barbarian and the only tunnel with an open gate.

The announcer starts to speak, Marcus only just able to hear him over the deafening roar of the blood in his ears, and his own heartbeat thudding wildly in his chest. It reverberates in his whole body like that of the drum used during battle– sending signals and commands to his troops.

“Someone in our audience surely is brave enough to help our gladiator defend this little bird.”

This beating inside his chest is a signal. A command to go to you. Run to you– jump out of this damn imperial box just to hold you in his arms.

The announcer continues to shout nonsense, but Marcus is no longer listening. He only feels his throat constrict, watching you in the arena. Wondering what’s in store for you, and how he’s the one who put you there. This is what he had been so afraid of.

The white and gold gown you're wearing catches the sunlight, making you look ethereal, while still terrified.

Your eyes are glued to the back of the gladiators head, and Marcus can see the tears in them from here. He feels as though he may be sick. Lucilla’s hand on his arm grips— her fingernails digging into his skin. Marcus can feel her staring at him.

“You know her,” she breathes.

“I do.”

Marcus isn’t ashamed that Lucilla can see you, or that she even knows about you now— she had known about the lover Marcus had wanted to take before he had even met you. This was something that had been spoken about, considered and then agreed upon, with one condition from Lucilla.

To be taken somewhere she could find love again, a real passionate love that wouldn’t be taken from her. A place where she may then search for her son without the threat of deadly Emperor’s.

Lucilla had even offered to house you in her private, guarded villa and Marcus refused, saying it was too dangerous to have his mistress so close to home.

Rome was dangerous and now he could kick himself.

“That’s your Dove?” Lucilla whispers into his ear.

Shocked, Marcus twists his head to look at her curiously but says nothing. He only cocks one eyebrow as Lucilla loosens her grip on his arm.

“You’ve spoken of her in your sleep,” she sounds heartbroken, but Marcus knows it’s not because she’s hurt by his indiscretions, but because he’s had to be away from you for so long. Lucilla looks as though she were in real physical pain for him. “Go to her and keep her safe, Acacius.”

“It looks as though she may need another defender, General.” Geta’s haughty tone sends a violent shiver down Marcus'sspine.

There are three thoughts going through Marcus'smind as he leaves the imperial box.

Rescue you. Kill the Emperors. Get out of Rome.

“Get out there!” A guard growls and pushes you out of the darkened tunnel that leads you into the gladiator pit.

You stumble, but keep your footing and finally look around. There are more eyes locked onto you than you could ever imagine. More eyes looking at you now than ever before and probably ever again.

Hanno is in the center of the pit and when his eyes fall on you, they go wide with surprise- like he cannot believe you’re here.

You can’t really believe it either; you had just been sitting in your cell, imagining the last time you and Marcus had been together.

Marcus stirs in his sleep as you gaze down at his handsomeness. You are completely blessed by the gods that such a good looking man wanted to lock you away from everyone else so he could keep you all to himself. That was very flattering and you cannot deny that, not one bit. It makes a liquid heat pool in your belly whenever you think about it. “I think…I could be in love with you,” you mouth, no sound coming out of your mouth. “Please don’t let me down.” It feels like a prayer to him, as well as the gods above that this isn’t some ruse to make you bear a child for his wife or worse… just a terrible joke to make him feel powerful? Important and desired? Marcus sleeps peacefully through your supplications, and you’re thankful because even though you have doubt in your heart about his feelings and plans; you just want him to sleep. Despite everything, you need him to know that this place in bed next to you is calm and quiet. It’s safe here with you. Whatever you feel for Marcus is strong- whether it’s love, or infatuation, or a desperation to feel desired, it’s there and without much you can do about it, that feeling swells inside of you. Even though you wish it wouldn’t. Looking down at him– his normally neatly styled hair was wild and unkempt from the numerous times you had it between your fingers. You were pulling and tugging on it as he licked, sucked and fucked you into countless orgasms throughout the night. You brush a stray curl away from his forehead gently but his hand flies to your wrist and grips it tightly. As his eyes open and he sees it’s only you and not an enemy, his fingers loosen, and he brings the sensitive skin of your inner wrist to his lips. “Luna Flora…you should know better… than to disturb a… soldier in his sleep,” he murmurs sleepily through soft kisses against your pulse point. You gasp, startled by his sudden alertness. Positive he can hear the sound of your heartbeat, as well as feel it on his lips, you whisper, "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you." He’s looking at you with such deep concentration with his perfect brown eyes, that it steals the breath from your lungs. "Don’t be," he yawns and stretches his body until he’s quivering before wrapping you up in his arms, tugging your body back into his. “Never be sorry. I would always choose to spend time with you awake, over the time I spend with you in my dreams.”

Then a guard came, threw this eerily familiar white and gold tunic at you, told to change and then forced up the seemingly endless set of stairs.

“Bring in The Golden Girl!”

That name, the way it’s said, the way Hanno is looking at you is telling you that this isn’t a normal fight.

The announcer continues, “She’s someone very special to someone in the crowd. I wonder who could know this beautiful bird?”

The more the voice from the pit speaks, the more you feel like your knees might buckle. Beautiful bird-- like a Dove? What on earth is he saying?

Everything else falls as Hanno closes the space between the two of you, putting himself between you and the only open tunnel. All the others have an iron gate keeping you trapped inside.

“What’s happening?” Your voice is hoarse. It feels like your mouth is full of the same sand you’re standing in.

Hanno doesn’t turn to look at you, but he reaches for you blindly, finding your forearm and pushing you further behind him to shield you with his body. “Stay behind me the entire time. Do. Not. Run.”

“What do you mean, run?” Your heart, which was already threatening to hammer its way out from behind your rib cage- starts beating faster somehow. “What would I run from?”

The terrible thoughts begin to race through your head at what could be lurking in that dark tunnel. The seconds tick by so slowly and all the sounds inside the arena blend into one. You can’t even make out the announcer anymore over the roar of the crowd- but you had stopped listening because his words were confusing, and for some reason they hurt.

A real physical pain that you could pinpoint. It hurts in your chest– because those names were things The Traitor called you, and it’s impossible to think that he sold you into this. He went and told the twin Emperors his names for you! It makes you feel foolish to think at one point you thought they were sweet, but in all seriousness, they turned out to be cruel, his little endearments for you.

You could cry right here in the pit, knowing you were probably going to die violently and in front of so many people.

“Dove…”

What!? That voice!? The Traitor?

You reel around, now face to face with Marcus and his traitorous handsomeness. It’s so hard to not feel like you’re melting. Barefoot in the scorching sand that burns, and the sun that hasn’t stopped fucking beating down on you since you walked out here. And now, under his gaze– you feel like it’s all slipping away from you.

“What are you doing here? How–” That’s all he says before you’re being pushed behind him, now shielded by both men as a sound cuts through the crowd.

Blood curdling, a deep bellowing call that reverberates off the walls of the tunnel as the beast makes its way into the pit.

It’s the biggest thing you’ve ever seen- and you lived on a farm with horses and cows. Bulls, too! It’s a bear, big and brown with matted fur. Mangled by fights that it had emerged victorious from. Now it stands at the mouth of that darkened tunnel and all you want to do is hide. You look for an escape but there is none.

At the mercy of Marcus and Hanno, and the gods above once again, you plant you feet into the sand and pray that nothing bad happens to you.

If it does, let it be quick.

The stones that build up the Colosseum are hot against your back. It's where you've been since the fight started. Marcus kept himself between you and the bear the entire fight, but eventually you got pushed aside and crawled to the perimeter of the arena.

Marcus pulls his sword from the bear's neck with a loud, wet squelch, his chest heaving. Hanno- bloodied and bruised, drops to his knees beside the animals lifeless form. They won, but not without their own injuries.

Marcus's head wheels around the arena, and stops when his eyes meet yours. With his sword still clutched tightly in his hand, he runs to you where you're crouched against the wall.

It's like it's happening in slow motion as he pulls you to your feet, his strong, eyes roaming every inch of you. His hands begin frantically searching your body as he pulls you into his chest, "Are you wounded? Did anything—"

There had been rage inside of you before, but not like this. "Get off of me!" You growl and attempt to push yourself away from him, but he doesn't budge.

One of his bloody hands cups your face, wiping the dirt and sand away from your face, exposing the black eye and the laceration on your cheek—given to you by the Emperors as a parting gift before being sent to the dungeons.

The cut stings when he touches it, and you wince and pull away from him. "Get off me!" You hiss, hands still pushing firmly on his chest.

"Who did that to you?" Marcus growls, his eyes scanning the arena looking for the culprit.

"The men you sold me to!" You nearly scream at him. A hush falls over the crowd. "Did you think the twins would accept 'no' from their newest pet?"

Marcus's eyes darken, and his jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth. "I never sold you." His eyes fall on the imperial box. "You're no one's pet."

You follow his gaze, and look up at the Emperors. The charming man who had come to your room in the night to take you away sitting behind them-- with one of your trusted chambermaids on his left.

"I'll kill her," you spit, eyes narrowing on the woman you would have, at one time, considered a friend. "Traitor. I'll fucking kill her!"

Marcus places one hand on your chest and pushes you behind him once again, shielding you from the eyes of those standing above you.

Caracalla, the brat- the whiny and entitled one that wanted to watch you flayed for refusing his pus-oozing cock. “Kill her – kill the whore!” he shouts. “Barbarian, pick up your sword! I want to see her blood spilled on the sand!”

Hanno, who is still kneeling beside the dead beast, drops his weapon. “I would die before I follow another demand of a false emperor—I will not harm her!" He shouts up to them, the crowd roars at his defiance.

Geta holds up a hand for silence, “I’m not as impetuous as my brother— the beast had its chance, and it was the will of the gods that the whore should live. But, as she is yet unclaimed, she –”

“She is mine!” Marcus’s voice snaps through the air. A shocked murmur rolls through the crowd, and Geta’s face tenses into a mask of barely contained fury. “You call her a whore, but for all your money and power she wouldn’t even allow you a taste, because she is mine.”

You are still clinging to his back, and with the echo of his last three words you feel a fire ignite in your veins. You are his. He had never abandoned you.

Those men in that box lied to you, tried to take you from Marcus, and then tried to taint your body with their touch.

Now you want them humiliated.

“Take me, Marcus. Right now,” your hoarse whisper reaches his ear. "Let them watch."

He looks down and meets your eyes just long enough for you to see the dark determination mirroring your emotions. Your lips crash together hungrily in a kiss of tongues and teeth. You nip desperately at his lower lip before he pulls away, his hand holding you by the back of your neck.

“On your knees, my Dove” he growls into your mouth.

At the sound of Marcus’s words, the molten feeling grows low in your belly and seeps to your core. You turn to face the podium and drop to your knees. You feel him lower himself behind you, his thick, muscular thighs bracketing your own, his sword discarded in the sand next to you.

One broad hand grips the scruff of your neck and pushes you forward, the other is dragging up the skirt of your gown. “See how she gives herself to me,” Marcus grunts loudly as two of his fingers notch themselves at your dripping entrance. “See how she’s ready and waiting for me?”

The tips of his digits trace along you slick velvet folds before slipping them inside of you, pumping them in and out, gathering your excitement.

Marcus withdraws his fingers and holds them up towards the imperial box, spreading them so the audience can see your sticky arousal clinging to, and strung out between them.

Gasps ripple through the crowd, a mixture of shock and intrigue. You can hear laughter mingling with the disdainful whispers, but all eyes are locked on you.

“This,” Marcus declares, “is yours to witness, Emperors. This is the fire that burns in her belly, for me alone.”

He reaches around to grip your chin in his hand, forcing your head up to meet their gaze. “Let them look at you, let them see your face.” he growls quietly, his breath hot against your ear.

“Look at her,” Marcus rumbles with a possessiveness that vibrates through your being. “Look at how she craves me.” His fingers return, but this time not to tease; this time they plunge deeper.

A moan is torn from your throat loudly as his fingers stretch you open. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you, it’s like the first time all over again. You arch your back, pushing against him as he quickens his pace.

Laughter erupts from the imperial box, Caracalla’s voice cutting through the noise, “Look at her! The whore— with such pathetic displays of pleasure! Whore!” His words drip with disgust, but they only fuel the fire inside you.

Anger curls around your spine and you push harder against the next thrust of Marcus’s fingers, forcing another moan from your mouth.

Geta’s voice rises, his expression tight. “You truly wish to save her? She is nothing but an animal-”

“She is no animal - but she has a beast to defend her.”

You gasp as you feel Marcus rub the tip of his cock along your slit. He circles your clit once, twice, three times before he’s positioning himself at your tight hole.

Without warning, without any gentle words, he bottoms out inside of you. It feels like your eyes are going to fall out of your head, your teeth almost slice through your bottom lip as the searing stretch surges through your entire body- from your hair to your toes.

A cry cursing all the gods, the Emperors before you, and the Emperors yet to rule falls out of your mouth as Marcus sets a bruising pace.

“You see how she lets me claim her?” Marcus pumps his length in and out of you harshly, his thighs slapping against the back of your legs, his free hand gripping your waist now. The hand that had been cupping your chin now finds your hair, keeping your head out of the sand and tilted up to look at the pale, pitiful men gazing down at you.

You can’t keep quiet, and it doesn’t really seem like Marcus wants to you to the way he he’s fucking into you so brutally. You cry out, scream his name, beg for him to slow down. You whimper for mercy, but it’s starting to become delectable- the way you stretch around his cock. The entire length of him sliding inside until his drooling tip grazes your cervix. It’s jolting, and has you seeing stars shoot across your vision.

In the background, mixed in with the rest of the noise, the announcer says something about the way Marcus is taking you, it’s muffled by the pleasure coursing through you.

Marcus came down here to fight for you, to keep you safe. He did care and he didn’t want to lose you and watching him defend you—

That’s why you were dripping before the bear was even dead. Watching Marcus in action, fighting to keep you alive– as furious as you were at him – had ignited a fire inside you.

That flame was engulfing your entire body now as he led you to an orgasm in front of what felt like the entire world.

Marcus grips your hair tighter as he slams himself inside of you over and over. Every single fiber of you can feel Marcus as your walls flutter around him. “Sucking me right in,” he growls. “Taking me so fucking well. Tell them who you belong to,” Marcus barks at you, the hand on your waist connects with the fleshy globe of your ass with a loud crack that cuts through the air.

“M-Marcus– oh gods, Marcus! You, I b-belong to you” You keen loudly, trying so hard to keep your eyes open so you can stare at the men who tried to turn you against the man inside of you now. “I’m yours… forever.”

It’s just a throaty cry of his name as the defined ridge around the head, and each inch of his throbbing length that follows strike and then glides across that sweet spot inside of you. It’s bliss as you come undone on him, feeling like you’re being torn in two; and then three, and then put back together again by his cock.

“That’s it, my perfect girl,” Marcus grunts in a throaty rasp that makes your toes curl.

“Silence that whore!” Caracalla screams in his high-pitched crying tone. “Where are the Praetorian guards!? They’ll have something to stuff her mouth with—”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hanno stand with his weapon clenched in his fist. “Any man that comes down here has to fight me first,” he declares, the blade gleaming in the sun.

The announcer starts to speak, but Marcus reaches for his sword in the sand, pointing the blade up towards the podium.

"One more word and I'll take your fucking tongue." Marcus bellows.

The threat silences the announcer, but the crowd's roar only grows louder.

You can barely focus on anything beyond the sensations coursing through your body as Marcus continues to thrust into you relentlessly.

Marcus drops his sword, his other hand leaves your hair to wrap his arm around your waist. He starts working on the fasteners of your gown at the shoulders. “They’ll see all of you—everything they can’t fucking have,” he’s growling, nipping at your earlobe as his fingers frantically start pulling at the fabric covering your chest. “They’ll never have you. You're mine."

He does own you, and it's the most exhilarating feeling in the world. The undeniable connection between you is only heightened by his rough handling of your body; as if he owns every part of it without hesitation or reservation.

His hand grips your breast tightly, his thumb circling your nipple, which has already hardened. "You like this, don't you?" Marcus growls against your neck. “Like being on display for everyone?”

You groan in agreement, arching your back into his touch. "Yes," you moan, clenching your eyes shut as he hammers his hips into yours. "Please don't stop-- want them to see"

Marcus's free hand grips your hip, pulling you closer, and his other hand He pulls back and looks up towards the imperial box, “No one will touch my Dove again. Anyone who tries will be torn apart without hesitation.”

You force your eyes open, meeting the shocked and furious gazes of the Emperors. You bite your bottom lip, eyes rolling back in your head like you’re possessed at the bliss, at all the good feelings Marcus gives you.

There is a commotion, the brothers command something of their guards but Marcus's booming voice quickly catches their attention again. “You make so much as one move, and you will die where you stand.”

To punctuate his point, Hanno gives the blade in his hand a twirl, pacing back and forth between the seats of the Emperors, and yourself and Marcus.

A defiant smirk tugs at your lips. Your fragile alliance with Hanno had paid off and now he was protecting you and Marcus in this erotic display of defiance. You lean back against Marcus's strong chest, your hands feverishly searching for something to hold onto as your sweat drips down between your breasts.

Marcus runs his tongue along your shoulder, up towards your neck. "That's it, my golden girl," He growls in your ear. “Show them "

Your body trembles, every nerve alight with pleasure as he claims you in front of the entire arena.

He pulls out of you suddenly, leaving you bereft and gaping— but before you can grasp what’s happening, he’s on his feet, moving beside you with his hands in your hair turning you to face him.

Marcus stands before you, his muscular body glistening with sweat in the harsh sunlight. His cock, slick with your arousal, juts out proudly as he grips your hair tightly.

"Open your mouth," he commands, his voice hoarse with lust.

You obey without hesitation, parting your lips as he guides himself to your waiting mouth. The salty taste of yourself on his length makes you moan as he pushes past your lips. Your tongue swirls around his shaft, savoring the combined flavors of yours and his

"Look at her," Marcus calls out, his voice rough. "See how she serves me willingly. This is what true devotion looks like."

You hollow your cheeks as he pushes deeper. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when he hits the back of your throat, but you fight through – determined to please him. Your hands grasp his muscular thighs for support as he sets a punishing pace.

Marcus throws his head back, chest heaving as he nears his peak. "Gods, you're perfect," he pants. "My beautiful Dove."

He leaves your throat with a sickeningly arousing wet sucking sound, one hand stays in your hair as the other wraps around his throbbing cock.

Marcus strokes himself rapidly, his eyes locked on yours as he pants, "Open up. Show them who you belong to."

You obey eagerly, tilting your head back and parting your lips. Your tongue darts out, desperate for a taste of him.

You moan when his seed coats your lips and chin, some of it dripping down onto your exposed breasts – marking you. You savor what landed in your mouth, swallowing as you gaze up at him adoringly.

Marcus releases your hair, his hand moving to cup your cheek tenderly. His thumb brushes across your lower lip, smearing his release further. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and something deeper - perhaps love.

The crowd's roar grows deafening, a mix of shocked gasps and lustful cheers. You can barely make out the Emperors' enraged shouts over the din. None of it matters - your entire world has narrowed to the man before you.

Hanno clears his throat softly, breaking the silence. "I believe it's time you take your leave, girl," he says quietly, eyes darting between you, Marcus, and the imperial box. “Go home to your farm?”

The Emperors seem to recover from their shock, Caracalla's face contorted with rage. "Seize them!" he shrieks, but his guards hesitate, wary of challenging the legendary general.

Marcus turns to Hanno. "Are you with us?"

Hanno twirls his sword, "I've just been waiting for a chance to escape this hellhole. I'm with you."

Marcus nods, then turns back to you. "We need to move fast," he says urgently, pulling you to your feet. “Lucilla has already left to find refuge in the ships.” He grips your hand tightly as he surveys the arena.

The Emperors continue shouting orders, their guards now following their command, starting to close in on the three of you.

"We have to go – now!" Marcus shouts. “Barbarian, can you clear us a path?"

Hanno nods, a wild grin spreading across his face. "With pleasure."

tag list: @gothcsz @almostempty @joelmillerisapunk @untamedheart81 @lilac-boo

(tell me to add you or take you off or to go eat bricks!!)

big thanks to @creepycorbeaux for basically co-writing this chapter with me. I needed her.

and thanks @mrsmando for my beautiful mood board (it took me so long to finish this chapter because I would just stare at how perfect this fits their story)

#pedro pascal characters #smut #marcus acacius #long reads #marcus acacius x reader #fanfic #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x you #gladiator ii fanfiction #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacias x reader

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dreamsofbroflovski · 13 days ago

Note

Dude, I just— I made a Tumblr account to follow you JANDKSND and ask for a request 🤧🤧

Can we have some of Kyley-B x reader? 😵‍💫 I would like to read a cliché of the innocent girl and the bad boy who incites her to do illicit things (with smut, of course). 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Heeeeeyaaaaaa my first request! ❤️

I am so so so so sorry for taking so long to get to it. Really need to make my writing more speedy and efficient.

Hope you liked it, and once again, really damn sorry 😭😭😭

Also, a belated merry christmas/happy holidays to everyone!

Kyley-B x Reader - trinitrotoluene

Also available on ao3!

Summary: An innocent librarian's whole views on the world - as well as her guts - are rearranged when she takes into the equation South Park's resident New Jersey asshole. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Doggy Style Position

A/N: Gods was this one hard. I never imagined writing Kyley-B would be this hard. Props to everyone who has managed thus far, because this guy wrestled against me in my mind for the whole 14 pages of the Google Docs and even now that I'm posting it I'm not sure I actually won.

I tried my hardest to put together what an adult version of Jersey Kyle would be if he really donned the mantle. Hope I did him justice.

The story of how my life changed forever was rooted in New Jersey, but happened nowhere near there.

When I applied to work at the South Park Public Library, I thought it would be an easy task. Library work in a small secluded town, in a day and age where people mostly forgot about physical books due to the convenience of Kindles or their own phones? How hard can it be? Turns out, very. The place greatly suffered from a lack of useful employees, so I ended up doing a lot of extra work that had nothing to do with what I was hired for, with no extra pay, when the salary was already not that stellar to begin with. Not a great headstart for a fresh-out-of-college English major such as myself, but it was this or the 7/11.

Days like that one kind of made the whole thing worth it, though. Summer weekends in the middle of July, when all the students were on vacation and people lacked the urge to read in favor of other activities, and the only people that would actually visit the library would be soft-spoken loners who just craved the social connection but at the same time didn’t want to chase it. In those days, I was able to just sit back on my chair at the reception counter and take full advantage of the amount of books around me, reading to my heart’s content for almost a full eight hours and getting paid for it.

Such a situation is how I found myself at that particular moment. Curled up as well as I could get in my tiny office chair, my shoes forgotten under the desk in favor of the comfort of being barefoot, yet another book in my hands that wasn’t part of my enormous ‘To Read’ list. It was all cruising up to be another quiet and peaceful day, just a few check outs and some small talk.

Except it wasn’t.

I heard the sizzling of a dynamite’s wick before seeing a full blown atomic bomb. Loud squeaky sounds of sneaker soles trudging across the hardwood, strings of profanities being spewed with each step, followed by the shocked gasps of some of the people seated nearby and their hurried movement as they got out of the way in every direction. Noise like this would usually have me kindly remind its emitter of the setting around them and beg for more silence, but as I raised my eyes from my book, I knew it would be of no use.

Already in front of the counter was one of the most obnoxious-looking men I had ever seen. His blazing curly red hair was slicked back with an obscene amount of gel on it, to the point where it made me wonder if it just started to stay that way after his showers. I couldn’t see him from the waist down, but he was wearing a loose fit wife beater, showing off the muscles of his arms in all their ‘glory’. A golden chain dangled around his neck, clearly fake, the paint already chipped in places where its links connected. His tanned skin already looked out of place in the cold town in the middle of the mountains, where its citizens were mostly pale due to never seeing enough sun to actually get a tan to begin with - but this man was just a few shades away from orange, painfully artificial, he’d stand out like a sore thumb no matter where he was.

“That’s right, you better fucking go, bitch!” The loud addition to my peaceful workplace called out angrily, looking over his shoulder, finishing up his threats on the last bypasser he could before turning his face forward again, which finally let me take a good look at his features. There I saw which had to be the only real thing about him - intense olive eyes that glinted with a fire unknown to me, pure passion and energy, the type that could either burn someone to the ground or keep them warm and safe in the winters. Right now, however, they could set the entire library ablaze by sheer feral glares alone.

I hurriedly scrambled to adjust my position in my seat and rested my book to the side of my computer. “Good afternoon and welcome to the South Park Public Library, restrooms are at the end of the first corridor to the left,” my explanation was kind and gentle, accompanied by a gesture of my hand in the general direction I spoke of.

“I don’t wanna know about no fuckin’ toilet,” the man spat, as if me merely opening my mouth to say something that was of no use to him was enough to make him angry beyond measure, “I’m here to return this.”

With an unneeded display of strength that made all the other items in the counter shake slightly, he slammed a book on it in front of me, his hand staying splayed on top of the cover, allowing me to see that his fingers were fully decked out in fake gold rings in the same fashion of his chain.

Even without seeing the full thing, I recognized that book immediately. My eyes widened. If I was to be honest, I didn’t even imagine the guy in front of me was capable of reading to begin with - and the book he brought was such difficult literature, even I struggled with it at first, so to imagine he deliberately checked that one out and allegedly read it to completion flabbergasted me.

I forced myself to blink and reel back from my shock before continuing the interaction. Get it together, I told myself mentally. My mother told me all the time to never judge a book by its cover - even if that defeated the whole purpose of book cover graphic designers to begin with -, and this was what I was doing right now; letting my prejudices get in the way of what could be a healthy interaction with a fellow bookworm.

Lightly, I placed my hands on the sides of the book and pulled it slowly towards me, letting it slide under his palm, which I avoided touching altogether lest it make him more angry. “Of course, sir,” I managed to assemble a gentle smile on my lips, trying my best to not let my previous thoughts show up on my face.

“Don’t call me sir, I’m not that old,” this complaint was slightly less persistent, but I was still not about to test his limits on it.

“Of course… Mister,” the word in that context sounded way too weird to me, but it was better than the two alternatives of either insisting on ‘sir’ or just not calling him by any title at all, “I’m just gonna need your library card, if you have it on you right now…”

His hand left the counter to retrieve something in his pocket, before swiftly passing to me a tiny rectangular piece of plastic - his library card, the old design of them at that, which meant he had it for quite a while now. My eyes narrowed as I scanned it, my brain multitasking with my fingers typing his card number on the database, and I found myself repeating the information out loud. “Alright, let’s see… Kyle Br-”

“Kyley-B,” his correction came harsh and immediate, stopping me from saying even one more letter of his government name, “And don’t you dare forget it.”

I really hadn’t. It wasn’t like I didn’t know his name, everyone knew it well - he was an infamous face in town. Originally from New Jersey and carrying with him every single terrible stereotype about the place, the man before me caused trouble wherever he went, having very little regard for anything that didn’t concern himself, and yet expecting everyone else to show him the respect he lacked for them. He had actually been in South Park longer than I did, but apparently what was said held true: you can’t take the Jersey out of someone.

“M-My apologies… Kyley-B,” I tried my best to abide by his request and use his nickname in a sentence no matter how ridiculous it sounded, while still typing on the computer to avoid enhancing his anger in any way, “It’s all set. Feel free to peruse the collection if you’d like to borrow something else.” Please don’t was the thought that came right after.

He nodded curtly, taking the card from me to put it back in his pocket, and I noticed his shoulders relaxing a little. Apparently, me being polite and understanding appeased him greatly, like he had understood that I wasn’t one of the assholes trying to get him pissed or something. For as long as I was respectful, I’d stay out of the path of destruction. I could swear I saw the intensity in his eyes shift a bit - but I avoided staring too long, both in fear of getting him angry again and in slight embarrassment at the thought that he might notice me doing that. “Thanks. I think I will.”

Leaning back in my chair and picking my book back up in my hands, I figured that was that. Kyley-B would go off somewhere looking for trouble and I’d be back to my silence and my reading. Yet I didn’t hear the same noises I had when he arrived; no cursing, no loud shoes, no nothing. When I raised my eyes again, he was still there - leaning towards me with his forearms on the counter and a curious expression on his face.

“Do you… Need any help?” I inquired, slowly placing the book on my lap and rolling the chair closer to the desk so he wouldn’t believe for a second that he didn’t have my attention.

A smirk curved his lips as he eyed me up and down. “Nah, just… Perusing.”

Well, now that’s a word I would never hear out of the mouth of a Jersey guy.

“Okay…” My fingers nervously tapped the cover of my book. “If there’s anything I can do for you, then-”

“There is, actually,” his body swayed slightly as he shifted his weight on his feet, “Has to do with my phone. You can put your number in it.”

Another jolt of bewilderment crossed my features. Allowing myself to focus my eyes on his again, I then understood what it was I saw on them earlier. Attraction. Now that he wasn’t angry anymore, Kyley-B was allowing himself to see me as a woman instead of Personal Enemy Number Ten Thousand. And he made no attempt to hide that he liked what he saw. The blood ran to my cheeks and ears before I could compose myself, my body clearly not accustomed to such unabashed interest. “E-Excuse me?”

“Your number, baby,” he repeats as if it’s nothing, “Could say I’m tryna make a movie with you here, but you clearly rather have your erotica in book form.”

What kind of Jersey asshole even knows about the word ‘erotica’? “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

A ring-adorned index finger pointed towards the book on my lap and I froze. I had deliberately chosen the version of this book - a rather obscure piece of erotic literature, the first of a series - that had a more passable cover, absolutely nothing in it that could give away its themes, in a way that they could only be known by someone who already knew the title. And there was no way Kyley did, right?

“I’ll tell you right now, stop at the first one. The sequels are garbage.” Kyley did. He shook his head with his own advice, like the memories of having to go through the continuations of that book brought stress back to his mind again.

My hands quickly grabbed the book and tried to hide it behind my computer monitor, away from his eyes, but the damage had been done. I tried to retort, but the words got stuck in my throat, coming out as gasps that enhanced further my petrified face, my wide eyes and the intensifying blush in my cheeks and ears.

“Cat get ya tongue?” Kyley teased as if reading my mind, his upper body leaning over the counter so his pointing finger could brush softly against my cheek, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I’m no blabbermouth.”

Still I took a bit to relax and believe his words. This was a small town, gossip spread as easily as the snow fell, it would be hard to show my face anywhere without having jokes hurled towards me about being a ‘closeted freak’. Which was extremely far from the truth, to be honest - that genre of book was not amongst my most read, I was as vanilla as they came, it was literally an unfortunate circumstance that led to anyone finding out about this.

The fact that Kyley-B was so uncharacteristically decent and understanding about it too, despite the initial teasing when he was hitting on me, threw me off even more. He had no reason to help me, and he was notorious for being unhelpful, so this was odd behavior on his part. My mind raced with reasons as to why that would be, trying to make sense of the madness - maybe he had secrets of his own, or maybe he just understood how it was to be the subject of unsavory discussions everywhere he passed. Either way, I found myself thankful for his actions.

Eventually, I let out a deep sigh, my lungs almost hurting as I did. “Thank you… Kyley.” I murmured, nodding slowly, my eyes shining with the gratitude that I couldn’t express with words without sounding corny.

He brought his hand back to himself, and I looked at his face again, seeing the exact same intense expression as before. Maybe, in my slight delirium of trying to build up Kyley-B as an actual human being with thoughts and feelings instead of your stereotypical Jersey playboy, I had imagined it faltering.

“That’s something I like to hear,” the flirtatious tone of voice was back with a vengeance, “Now, about that phone number of yours...”

And just like that, I was avoiding his eyes once more, my hands drifting down to fidget with the hem of my skirt absentmindedly, making me look even more suspicious. “I… I don’t know if that would be appropriate.”

“We only have to get inappropriate if you want me to,” his smirk grew. His voice didn’t even drop in volume as he said this, like he was completely comfortable with talking to unknown women like that - which he probably was, “We can just go party, have a couple drinks, make some noise, shit, whatever it is you like.”

Whatever it was I liked did not involve any of the things he mentioned. “I… I’m afraid I might not be the ideal person for that.” As I tried to let him down easy, I felt a striking pain in my chest; like the act of refusing made me uncomfortable, like I somehow wanted to accept it, even though it didn’t belong to me at all. “But thank you for the offer.”

“‘Not ideal’? What the fuck is that about?” He retorted, and for a moment I thought I might’ve riled him up again - but, although he was still loud, he didn’t seem angrier. More so confused about what I said rather than the circumstances of it. “I’m inviting ya, ain’t I? How the fuck is that not ideal?”

“It’s not the invitation!” I was quick to respond, “It’s just I don’t think I’m the right kind of company for all that… I’m sure there’s better people in town who would love to go clubbing with you.”

“Well, I’m not inviting those other people, I’m inviting you!” It was clear the insistence would not wane anytime soon. He rubbed his eyes with his palms for a bit, his mind trying to come up with a solution, before taking a deep breath and looking at me again. “How about some coffee, or tea, then? You into that?”

My eyes widened in surprise and he probably knew he struck gold there. A coffee shop was much more up my alley, but never in a million years would I imagine the likes of Kyley-B in such an environment - somewhere with no alcohol, no loud music, and where fighting was not tolerated. “I… I am, yes.”

“Coffee it is, then,” his tone was every bit as comfortable as he was when he mentioned partying, “Just gotta avoid that one place near the movie theater. Tastes like shit and the owner is a piece of garbage.”

A small giggle left my mouth. I had been to that coffee shop and knew its owner personally, it wasn’t hard considering the town was pretty small. For once in his life, Kyley-B was right, even if I personally wouldn’t phrase it all like he did. The business was probably only kept standing due to the fact people were too used to it by now, but it was the one place where I wouldn’t mind seeing a Jersey-level rage outburst take place.

My reaction was stifled by a glare Kyley shot at me, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand if I was laughing at him or with him. “I’m sorry! It’s just… I don’t like that place either.” I admitted, immediately scanning the library hall with wide eyes, trying to see if there was anyone around that could’ve heard me say that.

His expression relaxed and he nodded. “You ain’t gotta be so shy, you know,” he commented, his tone slightly more serious, “If you have your truth, then you gotta just say it. It’s how we do it in Jersey, and it works!”

It didn’t really work, but I wasn’t about to question him, not when the structure of his message was in the right place. My whole existence happened inside strict lines ever since I was a kid, I was one to keep my opinions to myself and rein in my actions to keep myself palatable to the people around me. This lifestyle had me sheltered to a fault, but until that moment I was fine with it; going through life avoiding trouble kept me healthy and safe, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that. However, Kyley-B’s advice still held some sort of water, and I found myself willing to hear more, even though it came from such an unreliable narrator.

“I know, I know… I just didn’t want anyone to hear me say that. It feels weird.” I shrugged.

“Well, maybe if that place wasn’t so trashy, you wouldn’t have to complain about it, it’s exactly what I am saying!” He retorted, the serious edge in his voice gone and replaced by the usual annoyance. “And I keep telling people that, but they won’t listen!”

With every passing millisecond, Kyley-B managed to confuse me more. While a part of me was stuck on the still present image of the annoying jerk who only knows how to pick fights and be rude to others, another part slowly took form; one that was intrigued about that man, knowing that although he could be a little too much, he was still completely true to himself, which is more than what can be said about a lot of the people around me. Right now, he carried his actions like a motorcycle zig-zagging through the traffic of my mind. Its destination? The inside of my skirt.

“I’ll keep that in mind… Thank you.”

Kyley-B nodded with a smirk, content that I wasn’t disputing him like people usually seemed to do. Though something told me that even if I did, I still wouldn’t be subjected to the same type of verbal abuse others would if they tried that. “Now, back to that coffee…”

I then managed to notice that we weren’t alone in our conversation anymore when a hand sneaked from behind the Jersey man, tapping his shoulder a bit. Immediately my brain was blaring sirens, the word ‘DANGER’ being transmitted by every one of my neurons. “Excuse me, sir?” Another male voice called out, well-mannered enough, yet still firm.

Kyley-B immediately turned to face the unknown third party, his eyebrows furrowing and whole expression hardening into anger. “What the fuck do you want? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?”

Apparently the stranger had very little regard for his life, because he didn’t back out from the rude display, their tone instead becoming louder and more insistent in retaliation. “Well, your ‘something’ needs to happen somewhere else, because I have to check out this book and this is the only counter available!” He lifted his hand to show Kyley the book he was holding, as if that would drill the information into his skull.

All it did was make him more angry. He quickly snatched the book from the client’s hand, throwing it with such force it managed to hit the wall farthest from us, before stepping closer to the stranger and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

The client was stunned for a second, both from his book being thrown and from the sudden inferred physical threat. “What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?” Through his shock he still managed to spit back, trying his best to mirror Kyley’s body language and tone; but it’s hard to be as violent as a guy from Jersey. “Can’t you see you’re fucking wrong? Back off!”

“No, you back off!” Kyley used both his hands to push his adversary away - the other guy stumbled backwards a few feet, but luckily didn’t fall. However, the Jersey man was quick to breach the freshly created distance with hard steps. “I’ll fucking teach garbage like you not to mess with me!”

Right in front of the stranger again, Kyley cracked his knuckles and squared his shoulders. The other guy straightened his posture and balled both fists at his sides, prepared to strike the Jersey threat right back if it came to that.

Mustering the small courage I had in me and having to force my fear-frozen legs to move, I ran from behind the counter towards the two men, putting my hands on their shoulders and praying to all deities that my presence would make them back off instead of turning me into a casualty of the upcoming brawl. “G-Gentlemen, please, don’t…” My voice was thin and desperate, reflecting the state of my mind as I tried to diffuse this situation to the best of my abilities, “There’s no need for any of this! Please, calm down!”

Luckily, they heard me well enough, and my guess is having to acknowledge the presence of a woman put a damper, however small, in their urge to clash. For a moment, our little group was completely silent except for the heavy breathing noises coming from the three of us - the two men furious like bulls about to strike, and me in terrified anxiety over the situation. They maintained a quiet staredown for what felt like forever, and I knew that if they were telepaths, the offenses they’d be mentally hurling at each other would contain curse words that could make a sailor blush. Then Kyley-B did something I didn’t even think he could physically do - he took a step back from a fight.

“Screw this noise,” he huffed, before turning his face to me again and making a gesture with his arm that beckoned me to accompany him somewhere, “Come on, can’t fucking talk in here without a shithead butting in.”

“W-What? Come on where?” My hands gestured desperately towards both my counter and the client in front of Kyley, who the redhead was now clearly ignoring as if he was nothing more than a decorative piece of the library, much to the other’s confusion, “I mean, I’m working right now!”

Before I could stop him, he walked back to the reception and reached over to the space of my desk, his hand clumsily scattering a bunch of the items on it before he could retrieve what he wanted - a small desk sign that just said ‘Be Back Soon’. He placed it firmly on top of the counter, the text facing him. “There. Now you ain’t.”

Kyley-B didn’t even allow me to put my shoes back on before he grabbed me by the wrist and started taking me away from the reception. I sent the other client one last apologetic look over my shoulder as Kyley dragged me, his sneakers louder than ever as he brought a barefooted me all the way to the farthest hallways of the library, down the always empty and slightly dusty Latin Literature section. His hand only loosened its hold when we stopped walking completely. Place was empty except for me, him and one of the trustworthy metal library carts, containing an assortment of books that needed to be delivered back into their proper shelves.

When he put both his hands in his pockets, I realized that now, away from the reception counter, I could see the lower half of his body. Even though he wore a belt, his acid wash denim jeans still hung a bit low on his hips - when his shirt shifted slightly, I could see the top of his boxers’ waistband peeking out. A look that normally would have given me pause when it came to a guy, but at that moment, what paused was my gaze, that I had to forcefully tear away from the region as I imagined what he looked like minus the outfit.

“Fucking finally. Can’t stand those hicks sticking their nose in business that ain’t theirs.” He spat, looking over his shoulder a bit towards the direction from which we came, like he was still trying to send his message to the other man who couldn’t even hear him anymore.

“I guess...” I didn’t really want to continue dwelling on what just transpired; Kyley’s anger was still fresh - was it ever not? - and the last thing I wanted was for him to decide to head back and finally start what he was about to before I intervened. Besides, from our small interaction in the reception desk, I had learnt that he had a ‘not complete jerk’ side to him that was much more tolerable to be around.

“I swear, people in this town stress me the fuck out. Gahbage, all of them.“ He shook his head and with that, finally turned his face back to me - his expression was still intense, but at least he wasn’t completely pissed off anymore, and a hint of that cocky flirtatious grin had returned to his lips. “Well, not all. But enough about that bullshit. What do they call you around these parts?”

The way he asked for my name sounded weird to me, but I guess that’s the type of sentence someone’s got to use when their name is ‘Kyley-B’ and they refuse to be referred to as anything else. “I’m Y/N.”

‘Y/N, huh? That’s hot.”

Of all the adjectives he could have chosen, he went for the one I had never seen used before to describe a name, especially mine. “What do you mean by that?”

Kyley frowned a bit in confusion. “I mean it’s hot, what of it?” The answer came with a dismissive shrug, as if it was obvious and I was dumb for even having something to question. “Your name is hot, you’re hot, there’s not much else to say.”

My mouth spoke before my mind could catch the words this time. “Well, that’s a surprise.”

His frown intensified and I put my hands over my lips, the mistake getting to me. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s just, I’ve seen you around,” my brain cells worked themselves into overdrive trying to find a way to say it that didn’t sound accusatory, “With some girls, and…”

Lively laughter that almost seemed to rumble the books on the nearby shelves interrupted my train of thought. “Oh, so that’s what this is about?” Kyley ran his fingers through his own hair - it almost didn’t even move due to the sheer amount of hair gel. “Don’t ya worry about it, baby. I like the covered up look too. You’re really pretty.”

He eyed me up and down slowly, still grinning, as if he truly appreciated what he saw. I looked down at myself as well, taking in my outfit - a loose-fitting blouse, a skirt that ended just barely above my knees, my bare feet that were earlier covered by a pair of flats. Miles away from the style of the women that I’d seen Kyley-B have in his arms - women who wore clothes with much less fabric, shoes with much higher heels, makeup with much more vibrant colors. Women that dressed like they wanted the attention, in the way that Kyley’s personality denounced the same thing.

Yet that Jersey man still looked at me like he wanted me in a much worse way than he’d want any of those girls, beyond just flirting for the hell of it or so he could add another number to his body count. And I was eating it up despite myself - having the undivided attention of Kyley-B in a somewhat private setting like this, instead of fighting other women for it at a club or something, was deliciously feeding into my ego, and it took everything in my mind for me to remind myself that this was my job and I was working and there is no way anything can happen and oh my lord his eyes are so gorgeous.

My eyes drifted to the floor, suddenly very interested in the nail polish on my toes and the small creases on Kyley’s Jordans. “Thank you…”

“See? This is what I’m talking about.” One of his hands made its way to my chin, tilting it upwards just enough to bring my attention towards his face again.“That’s the fourth time you’ve thanked me now. Makes me wanna actually give you something to be thankful for.”

Now forced to look at him - honestly, I don’t know how ‘forced’ I really was, considering I made no attempt to dodge my head away from his hold -, the fire reddening my face was on full display for Kyley, a sight that made his smirk widen.

“There’s no need for that,” I murmured, though the little vain monster in my heart yearned for him to continue talking about me like that, to continue making me feel actually interesting, “It’s just… who I am.”

He stepped closer, keeping his eyes on mine. “Who you are? I wanna know all about that… Inside and out.”

My nervous hard swallow was audible. I was sure I could boil a kettle using only the heat radiating from me at that moment. His voice was dripping with desire; the double entendre almost making the air around us crackle with how charged it was. Despite my whole body presenting all my real feelings, my personality still clamored for some semblance of that decorum that Kyley-B was trying to make slip away. "I don’t know… I don’t think we should…”

“Why not?” This time, there was no anger in his voice as he questioned me; its volume had dropped lower, matching the ‘private’ nature of the conversation. “I’m into it, you’re into it, I don’t see the issue.”

I could’ve denied, said he understood everything wrong and I was just being polite, thanked him for his time and left that place with my decency intact. But I was always a very bad liar, and there was no denying the way my heart beated like a drum with his proximity, how my face got beet red just from our simple conversations, or the way I eagerly paid attention to every word that came out of his mouth.

Why was I feeling so drawn to his offer anyway? Was it the forbidden aspect of it all, the knowledge that I’d be going wild and letting loose while still maintaining the looks of a productive member of society? Did I internally enjoy the attention of someone who usually went for women that had nothing to do with me in either appearance or personality? Was the savior complex acting up again, the ‘I can change him’ mentality? All of the above would lead to the same outcome.

Another thing that really led me towards the path of surrendering to Kyley was the fact that, during all of this, he still hadn’t touched me in any way that was inherently sexual, despite all of his verbal advances. He was still waiting for my consent, exhibiting atypical patience, which made me believe he would’ve been okay even if I legitimately rejected him - the thing he couldn’t take was me hiding myself from the both of us, my attempts at masking my interest, and that’s why he was still pressing the issue. He wanted to take me, but he also had to make sure I wanted to be taken.

“Come on, baby… Talk to me…” His voice dropped even lower as he took the final step towards me, our bodies inches from each other now, “Wanna know what’s going on in that pretty little mind…”

The deep shuddering breath I took brought to me the smells of old books and some very strong cologne, the latter of which I could easily imagine on my pillow. “Need you…”

His hands grabbed both sides of my face and he pulled me into a fierce kiss, groaning into my mouth once we collided. His lips were surprisingly soft, likely due to a religious application of chapstick, but the kiss as a whole was still rough in a figurative sense; tough, possessive, everything that man was now being transferred to me through the clashing of our mouths, basically demanding me to respond in kind.

Which was something I didn’t even know I could do. I wasn’t necessarily a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I was all that seasoned, either. My years in university weren’t necessarily the great breeding ground for sexual experience that they seemed to be for everyone else - turns out all the other English majors were more interested in reading about steamy affection and whirlwind romances rather than actually living them.

So that moment with Kyley-B, in the back of my workplace, was the first moment of my life I actually felt desired - like my whole presence did something for the man in front of me, something he couldn’t ignore. And I found myself in equal measure wanting him as well, entranced by his untamed nature, like a tiny wild side of me I didn’t even know existed was slowly coming to life now that he was close enough.

We needed to have each other. So, letting my last sliver of rational thought become dust and settle on the books in the shelves around us, I kissed him back, my hands resting on his shoulders and gently bringing him even closer. Kyley’s hands tightened around my waist and he pushed me backwards until I felt my ass lightly hit the library cart, hearing the faint squeak of the wheels as they moved a bit from the slight impact. His tongue led mine in a sensual dance, one that I initially didn’t know the moves to, but that quickly became second nature under his expert tutoring. His hips pressed against me and I was a bit glad to notice he was clearly affected too, seeking whatever friction he could get by grinding his bulge against my lower abdomen.

Both of us had our chests heaving heavily when we pulled back in need of air, and that’s when I realized my whole body was trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation. “Please…” was all I could manage to say, and I didn’t even know what I was begging for; for Kyley-B to calm down, to keep going, to do more, to bring me somewhere else or take me right there. Just whatever it was that would calm down the heat on my lower abdomen, since I knew only he could take care of that now.

“You really know your magic words, what a good girl,” Kyley murmured with his mouth still inches from mine, his words teasing, but with an undertone of praise. One of his hands slowly drifted down from my waist, pulling up the fabric of my skirt a bit just so it could slide under, a feather-light touch making its way towards my inner thighs until it settled right over my clothed pussy - the material already thoroughly damp from just his previous contact.

Two of his fingers traced my slit over my panties before they stopped right on top of my clit, applying slight pressure to it before rubbing tight firm circles over it, the fabric of my underwear providing even more friction against my extra sensitive bundle of nerves. My teeth dug into my lower lip as I stifled my whimpers, squirming quietly under Kyley’s teasing moves.

“You’re real wet, ya know that?” He moved his head so that he could whisper in my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe. The tip of his tongue then slowly traced the outline of my ear, a seductive gesture that sent goosebumps through my whole body. “Love to see it. Basically dripping for me.”

His digits moved back lower between my thighs, tracing me yet again, but the pressure on my clit wasn’t missed for long, as his palm was now flat against it, applying a bit of pressure and moving just barely to still keep me sensitive. He pushed my very damp panties to the side, a finger now circling my entrance, the small wet sounds it made almost deafening to me, proving Kyley’s previous claim without a doubt.

When he pushed his index in, I grabbed hard on the library cart handle, making it rattle a bit with the sudden movement. My breath hitched with the sudden intrusion, and Kyley chuckled in satisfaction, his face lowering to my neck. The pleasurable pain of the bites he started to place on the sensitive skin came in tandem with his middle finger also plunging inside of me, all the way to the last knuckle.

Kyley-B wasted no time before curling his fingers in a come hither motion, pumping them in and out with a type of strength that made my whole body shake with each push inward. My hips moved towards his palm in sync with his ministrations, subconsciously trying to get extra friction on my clit.

Despite never having seen me before, it was like he had a complete map of my body in his mind. He knew exactly what to do at all times to make me feel good, and handled my body with a type of care that I would never expect from the likes of him. My worries about his nature or his intentions were gone with the wind; he could be whoever he wanted, as long as he’d continue laying his passion on all the neglected erotic parts of both my body and spirit. Soon my nails started making scraping noises against the metal of the handle, like I wasn’t just holding on to it, but also to the last little bit of my sanity before Kyley-B would kick me right into the deepest ends of pleasure.

Then suddenly, it stopped. His fingers withdrew from me and he took them to his mouth, cleaning my whole arousal out of those digits as he sucked on them. Not saying a word, he then used both of his hands to hike up my skirt completely so that it would be bunched up on my waist, immediately pressing his body against me again while his fingers drifted to the side of my panties. With a fierce tug that would’ve made me lose balance if not for his presence, he tore the damp fabric clean off, dropping it on the floor near our feet.

“What… Why did you…” I stuttered a bit as I looked up at him with my mouth hanging slightly open, looking every bit needy and desperate for him, absolutely pathetic in my yearning for the touch of that man.

His response came as a series of quick yet sensual kisses, the last one prolonged by the soft pulling of my bottom lip between his teeth. “Think we’re both gonna like it a lot more if you cum on my cock, baby,” he cooed, “And ya want it too, right? Don’t think you’d want to come all the way here just to get two fingers in.”

My head moved in a meek nod. My brain would’ve normally scolded me for agreeing so easily to words like these, so overtly sexually charged, but I couldn’t exactly lie to Kyley, either. I wanted him to fill me up. Taking in my agreement, he pulled back just a bit so he could make quick work of the belt and buttons in his jeans and pulled both them and his boxers slightly down, just enough for his cock to spring free.

A lot of times, when people see feisty men with boisterous personalities, they like to say that those men are compensating for a lack of something. Kyley-B absolutely was not. He had the inches and the girth to back up every single aggressive display and explicit word that left his mouth. I pressed my thighs together, both in a gesture of fear for my poor pussy and also as a way to create some sort of pressure in the area that could calm me down until he would finally give it all to me.

My light squirming did not go unnoticed by his ever observant olive eyes. For all his violent behavior, he was still a really sharp individual. “You can take it,” he stated in a way that left no room for questioning, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Kyley took my lips back in his as his hands then moved from my waist to my ass, the unfamiliar sensation making me gasp against his mouth. He kneaded the soft flesh a bit, feeling it around. Then, without warning, both his hands delivered hard smacks to each side of my bottom, and I broke the kiss with a loud high-pitched yelp - the sounds almost echoed in the quiet library. He immediately started rubbing circles with his palms on the areas he slapped, as if trying to soothe them, contented groans rumbling in his chest. His next sentence came as an order. “Turn around. Need to feel this ass on me.”

I spun 180 degrees on my feet without a second thought and he pushed my back unceremoniously, making me bend over the library cart in front of me before shoving my head down towards it so that my back would be even lower and my ass would be in a more prominent position. My face landed on its side on one of the books that I was supposed to put back in place - Don Quixote. I had the feeling that by the end of my encounter with Kyley-B I too would be crazy enough to fight windmills.

I could only hear the noises his shoes made as he settled properly behind me, the hand he had used to shove me now placed at my back, putting slight pressure to keep me bent. He held his cock with the other one, giving a few light taps with it on my ass, and I just knew his gaze was burning into me as he watched the soft flesh jiggle a bit. When he positioned himself to start dragging the head across my slit, gathering up my already plentiful arousal and spreading it around even more, I whined and bucked back a little with my hips, the library cart under me rolling a bit as well.

Immediately the hand that had been resting on my back moved to my ass and grabbed it fiercely. “Damn desperate for my cock, are ya, baby?” I could almost hear the smirk in his lips as he said those words, “Don’t worry, Imma give it to ya… And you ain’t even gonna need to thank me for it…”

Fortunately Kyley-B did not make me wait much longer after that. He was all about that instant gratification, and my submissive behaviour fed right into it. He traced my slit a few more times with the tip of his cock before pushing it fully inside of me in one swift motion, taking advantage of my wetness buildup.

Another yelp from deep within my throat, this time accompanied by a deep grunt from Kyley-B’s. Both his hands grabbed my hips with such ferocity it felt like he was trying to get his fingers to break through my skin - but he’d have to settle for them just leaving a couple bruises. The stinging sensation deep in my walls as they stretched around his cock was like nothing I had ever felt before; worse than it felt when I lost my virginity, yet it was better, as in, actually good. I took a deep breath, hoping the air coming inside my lungs might help ease the burning somehow.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Kyley-B grunted behind me, his tone of voice faltering for a moment, becoming less brutish than usual - he was lost in the feeling of being inside me just as much as I was on the feeling of taking him. “Gonna end up ruining ya… If I’m not careful…”

He already had.

His grip steadied on my hips as he pulled away from me, before slamming all the way back in, giving me no time to calm down as he quickly settled into a steady pace, each thrust burying his cock to the hilt inside of my cunt. He was so big I could feel his tip hitting my cervix, constant jolts of pain coursing through my lower abdomen with each hit - yet I didn’t feel any urge to bring myself away from it or make it stop. It was the best pain I had ever felt in my life, which is a sentence I never thought I’d put together.

Before I knew it I was letting out loud pleasure whines, my perception of the environment around me slowly being lost. Kyley still seemed to maintain his for a bit, though - to stifle my noises, he quickly shoved his index and middle finger inside of my mouth, almost all the way to the third knuckle. As if on cue, I started sucking on those digits and swirling my tongue around them like it was second nature.

“Fuck, girl,” he groaned with a husky voice, “If ya pussy wasn’t this fuckin’ good I’d be using my cock on this great tongue ya got instead.”

His other hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it with reasonable strength, making me gasp and bringing my head up - my mouth opened wider and I could now taste the brass of his fake rings on my tongue as he pushed his fingers all the way inside, having the surprising care of positioning them in such a way that they wouldn’t make me gag, while I continued to work on them.

He didn’t keep my noises muffled like this for long. Soon he seemed to realize it was of no use and we were already loud anyway; so he let go of my hair and my face immediately fell forward, his fingers leaving my mouth with a wet noise and slight pain to me as his rings clumsily hit my teeth from the sudden movement. His hands slapped both sides of my ass again and I yelled with full force of my lungs - now that I was free to make noise, he seemed interested in testing my ability of it, and I could swear the squelching noises my pussy made with each of his thrusts became louder as he sped up a bit.

With each potent snap of his hips against my ass, my whole body would jerk forward and cause the library cart to hit the tall wooden bookshelf right in front of me, shaking the whole thing up and making it bang against the wall behind it. Heavy hardcover books rained from the shelves, hitting the parquet floor with loud thuds.

Completely immersed in the pleasure the Jersey man was giving me, I failed to notice the danger I was in, of a book striking my head and knocking me out cold. I only realized that situation when all of a sudden Kyley-B had the whole weight of his upper body against my back, his harsh breathing on my neck sending shivers down my spine while his arm moved at the speed of light to backhand a falling book out of its path towards our bodies, sending it flying a few feet away like it was nothing. He hissed between his teeth, likely from the pain of the smack, but didn’t voice any complaints besides that, his pounding against me not faltering for even a second.

I adored the new sensation. Though I was almost fully trapped against the library cart, him leaning on top of me like this was strangely comforting, seeing all of that oppressive strength being used for my protection. Kyley-B clearly took care of what was his, and at that moment, that’s exactly what I was.

Best as I could, I sneaked one of my arms over my shoulder, my hand clumsily grabbing a fistful of his gelled up hair. He grunted roughly against my neck, apparently not used to being touched like that - maybe it was usually the other way around - but making no move to stop my awkward attempt at a caress either. His thrusts slowed a bit as he stayed like this for a moment or two, before he straightened his posture back up with his chest away from my back and gave my ass another slap, picking up speed again - maybe that was his way of taking for himself the smallest bit of control over the situation I held for a bit.

Not that I minded. Him taking charge was all that I wanted at that moment. Not a single useful thought graced my brain while he fucked me senseless, all of my neurons hyper-aware of how his cock felt when it pushed against the most sensitive spots inside of me and not much else. Everything was Kyley-B, the world around us irrelevant, merely a void environment that could absorb all of my moans and screams of pleasure, as well as the squelching and slapping noises of his thrusts, with no repercussion. Even the swear words he grunted every so often now sounded like music to me; because it came from a place of intense pleasure, which I was giving him, so he could curse as much as he wanted near me as long as he’d do it in that lascivious tone.

Kyley’s thrusts became even quicker and more erratic, as if he couldn’t bear to have a single inch of himself not buried inside of me for any amount of time. He bullied my walls and my cervix with wild abandon, and I felt myself tensing up under his chest, my toes curling against the hardwood floor as my body braced for the impact of the release that his cock was about to give to me.

He noticed the physical aspects of my buildup and a hoarse chuckle cut through the sounds of his hips slapping against me. “Gonna cum for me now, are ya, babe?” He murmured huskily, giving the lightest of taps to my ass, an action that felt weirdly reassuring. “Told ya it was gonna be better with my cock… Go on, let me see ya…”

My eyes rolled almost to the back of my head and I let out a cry that made my whole throat quiver as the most intense orgasm of my life crashed on me like a tsunami, my spine arching and making my upper body press even more against the cart under me. While I whimpered and trembled through the ripples of pleasure in my system, Kyley-B grabbed my hair again, pulling my head back some more as he used the newfound reins to jackhammer into me with my cunt clamping fiercely against his cock, trying to make it a permanent attachment to my body - a very smart decision on its part, really.

Despite riding my climax out to the fullest, I did not get any time to catch my breath - Kyley-B’s attack on my walls had already started to cross the line into overstimulation, making me whimper from the continuing massage on the extra sensitive region, before he suddenly withdrew from me. Although I already had way too much everything considered, that action surprisingly made me legitimately angry for half a second - I missed him inside of me. His breathing shook and faltered while thick jets spilled over my ass and lower back, his seed warm against my skin.

As he came down from his high and his breathing became more steady, I heard him reach inside of his pocket again, then felt the slightly rough sensation of lace being rubbed against me - he was cleaning up his release with the very same panties he tore away. Seemed thorough about it, too, as he took his time and by the end of it I didn’t feel sticky anymore. Yet, the knowledge of what we did had painted my body forever, the warm sensation still very much psychologically present, even if I was physically ‘clean’.

I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him stuff the panties in his pocket. The normal confusion I’d exhibit if seeing such an act did not grace my features, either because I was too fucked out to care or because I actually liked it.

He tucked his softening cock back inside of his boxers and closed the buttons and belt on his jeans before leaning towards me again, this time to put his nose to the side of my neck, inhaling my scent sharply while his arms wrapped around my waist.

”Did so fucking well for me, baby. You were so damn good.” Kyley-B whispered against my skin, his voice once more taking that less rowdy tone I heard earlier. Hearing it again, in a full sentence this time, sent shivers down my spine - different shivers from the ones that had coursed through my body earlier. Like I could catch a glimpse of the man behind the fake tan. He made sure to leave one tiny nip at my skin before pressing a kiss right on top of that region - a surprisingly soft kiss, like he was now trying to be careful with me.

He stayed like this for a little more before straightening up again and letting go of my body, giving my ass one last playful slap, chuckling as he watched it jiggle. “You’re the real deal, Y/N,” the Jersey playboy voice was back at full force, “Let’s go out sometime. I’ll call you.”

Which was a weird thing to say, considering I hadn’t given him my number at all, but for some reason I just knew that was the least of his problems. He knew where I worked. He’d find a way, and I’d give him as much direction as I could for that.

As soon as I couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, my knees gave in, and I fell right on them, letting the library cart hit the now much less packed bookcase a final time. My hands clung to the side of it with what little strength I had in my body, that still felt like it was made of jelly. I could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, the exhaustion from the unfamiliar ‘exercise’ getting to me. Dozens of books laid around me on the floor, waiting to be put back in their places, but I decided to just make that a problem for future me, instead choosing to let my muscles catch a break.

When I finally managed to pull myself together enough to return, alone, to the reception desk, I realized I was in deep shit. Every single set of eyes in the location turned to me, wide and horrified; apparently, the whole time I was with Kyley-B back there, my clients at the library were frozen in place listening to the whole thing. I tried to avoid my shame by looking elsewhere, but then my eyes rested on a decorative piece of mirrored glass at the wall; I could now see myself clearly. My hair was messed up beyond belief from all of Kyley-B’s pulling, my whole makeup was smudged - with special attention to the huge pink blur of lipstick around my very kiss-swollen lips -, my shirt was creased everywhere. Not to mention that now my underwear was hanging out in a New Jersey man’s pocket, leaving me totally commando. And I had a few more hours of my shift ahead of me.

It didn’t affect me as much as it should.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Surprisingly enough, I did not get fired from my job after that. My guess was they knew they couldn’t find anyone else who could put up with the extra work that had nothing to do with my appointed position, not for the money I was paid. So I got to stay.

What did happen was the influx of people at the library augmented significantly. This did not mean a proportional increase in the number of books checked out, however - it just meant way too many people were suddenly interested in Latin Literature, and my workplace became a lot noisier.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

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itsphoenix0724 · 1 year ago

Text

Meet Me On The Ice (Azriel x Reader)~ Chapter 1

Summary: You and Lucien Vanserra have been skating together since you were children, but when he has an accident that takes him out right before championships you turn to your brother and his hockey team to fill the position. His best friend Azriel has lethal grace on the ice and owes your brother a favor, which seems like a match made in heaven, except you can’t stand each other. Can you and Azriel pull a routine together in time for your competition, or will it all spiral out of control?

MMOTI masterlist

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Hello everyone! Happy December, my final exams are over so I'm so excited to get back into writing! As you all know I've been planning this for a while, so I hope you're all as excited as I am!!

DISCLAIMER: I am not a figure skater or a hockey player, so while I'm trying to be as accurate as possible, it's likely some things may not be correct and/or are bent a little to fit the plot!

Figure skating is a lot more thrilling than people give it credit for. Only a few people are willing to be thrown 5 feet in the air at 20 miles an hour and completely trust the other person to catch them.

The ice was always your happy place. The biting chill against your skin, the feel of gliding across the rink faster than light. It was thrilling, to say the least. You and Lucien had worked so hard this season to advance this far, and you only had a couple of competitions left before the both of you graduated from university. The two of you were on a winning streak, and this competition looked like it would turn out no different. Your coach smiled from the sidelines as the two of you performed in perfect sync, his hands around your waist as he lifted you effortlessly into the air before resting you safely back on your skates. It was time for the big finish, you sped in a circle around the rink executing a triple toe and Lucien built up his momentum to launch his axel. Your eyes dart to the judges' impressed faces before you whip your head back to him and-

Something’s wrong.

The angle– the spin, is all out of balance, and in the blink of an eye, Lucien hits the ice. His head makes a sickening crack on the ground as red floods around him, and his right leg is twisted in the wrong way. The scream you let out doesn’t even sound like yours as you race over to him, the sounds of the crowd echoing around you in a sick symphony.

“Oh my god”

“Someone call an ambulance!”

“Get him off the ice quick!”

You don’t hear any of them too busy trying to shake Lucien awake with tears streaming down your cheeks, but he’s knocked out cold. A blur of red is next to you and it takes you a moment before you realize it’s Lucien’s mother. It’s another gut-wrenching eternity of trying your best to hold a towel against his head to stop the bleeding, Lucien still unresponsive, before the gentle hands of a paramedic ease you away from your best friend. You watch with abject horror as they load him onto a stretcher, and carry him out of the rink. Helping Lucien’s mother off of the ice, she follows them outside. The ringing in your ears still hasn’t stopped, not even when your own mother and father come racing down the arena steps, a hand coming out to hold your jaw, and another wrapping your coat around your shoulders. Before you blink again they’re ushering you out of the rink and into the car.

It’s two days before you can see Lucien in the hospital.

You had driven in complete silence, anxiety coiled like a viper in the pit of your stomach. Parking your car in the visitor lot you look at the teddy bear you buckled safely into your passenger seat, its soft brown hands clutching a heart with cursive writing spelling Get Well Soon. It had been dumb and cheesy, but you snagged it at the grocery store while picking up some of Lucien’s favorite snacks and couldn’t resist.

Hopefully, it would make him laugh at least.

The nurse at the desk smiles at you kindly before pointing you in the right direction of his room. The atmosphere of the hospital weighs painfully on your shoulders as the elevator ride seems to stretch on for decades. You thankfully find Lucien’s room easily enough, his russet eyes light up at the sight of you even with the angry red stitches that run through his hair.

“There she is!” He bellows, eyeing the bear and the bag of treats with interest. You set them on his bed and he laughs a joyous sound as he props the bear next to him on the bed, declaring it his new best friend.

“How are you feeling?” You ask tentatively, settling into a chair next to his bed. His leg is in a cast, elevated, and you run your bottom lip between your teeth with worry.

“I’m alright, all things considered.” He promises rifling through the bag to dig out the pack of spicy chips, “I’ve got a concussion, and my legs broken so bad I’ll be in physical therapy for months.” Lucien meets your eyes mournfully, looking as if you’d just punched him in the face. “I won’t be able to skate for the rest of the season. I’m so sorry.” He dips his eyes averting his gaze to the broken leg, like glaring at it hard enough will force it back together again. You feel your heart sink to your feet, but you refuse to let it show, trying to keep a happy smile on your face.

“None of that matters, all I care about is that you’re okay.” You reach out to grip his hand, and his warm palms engulf your own.

“You can find another partner to finish the season,” He urges, Lucien’s other hand comes up to cup your cheek, wiping away the silver trying to fight its way out of your eyes despite your best efforts. You had already registered in the partner skate division, so it was too late to switch now. But even thought makes your stomach turn.

“No one could ever replace you,” You promise, leaning into his warmth. It’s the truth. You had been skating with Lucien since you were small, and now you’re about to graduate from university. There could be no one else. No one else that, without fail, had such a warm touch even on the ice rink. No one else you could trust to catch you every time, even if it means sacrificing his safety.

You had tried to skate with one other partner, once, in freshman year when Lucien caught the flu so bad he was puking for weeks. It hadn’t ended well and you hadn’t trusted anyone since.

“You should skate your last season. Even if this new guy will never be as good as me.” It’s a lighthearted attempt at a joke, and you accept the crutch of humor, chest rising with a breath of laughter. “You could ask Rhys, maybe he’d do it? He used to skate before he switched to hockey right?” That was true, but he switched to hockey right before middle school to play with his friends, maybe he’d consider it if it didn’t conflict too much with his schedule.

“I’ll think about it, let's focus on tearing through these snacks in the meantime,” You snag the peanut butter cups out of his bag despite Lucien’s vehement protests and turn the staticky hospital tv to shitty afternoon cartoons.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

You held your tears in successfully until you got home. You didn’t want Luicen to feel guilty, didn’t want him to see you cry, so here you were curled in a ball under your covers. Hiding from your problems like a child, hoping if you just ignored them long enough they would magically solve themselves. You had asked Rhys earlier about possibly skating with you, but between learning to take over your father’s business, university, and hockey he understandably regretfully declined. The bedroom door creaks open, hearing the delicate tread of Rhys’s footsteps before he settles next to you on the bed, rubbing a soothing hand along your curved form.

“It’ll be alright I promise,” Rhys mutters. “I think I might have a solution, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” You rise from your chosen shelter, raising a brow and wiping at your tear-stained cheek.

“What is it?” You question, and Rhys almost flinches. “I’ll do almost anything to skate again.” He must see the desperation and he carries on anyway.

“Azriel is still suspended from the team at the moment, and he owes me a favor…” Rhys watches your eyes catch up to his words, the disgust flashing in them. Both of Rhys’s best friends had couched surfed at your house at one time or another, and you and Azriel had never gotten along. Not like sunshiney Cassian, who may be viscous on the ice but was one of the most gentle people you knew. Cas was the one who made an effort to include you in activities, who playfully tossed you in the pool in the summer, and took you for long drives when you were upset. Azriel spent those summers by the pool brooding in the shade until you left, and was currently suspended from the Velaris University hockey team for throwing another player so hard into the glass he was concussed. “You said you would do almost anything to skate again,” Rhys raises his hands in surrender and you roll your eyes.

“What about Cassian?” you offer. He would probably do it for you, but Cas wasn’t suited for figure skating. His style was too brutish, it was nothing against him, he just wouldn’t pick up the flow and patience you needed to skate with the music fast enough in time for the competition. As much as you hated to admit it, Azriel moved across the ice like smoke, flowing and ebbing with a lethal grace you couldn’t help but admire.

“Cas is too busy with school and hockey,” Rhys had clearly already run through the option. You knew that if you begged Cassian he probably would, but his stance at the school depended entirely on his grades and his performance in hockey. You wouldn’t give him any chance to mess up his scholarship. “Please just talk to Az with me tomorrow.”

“Fine.” You relent, perhaps with a little more attitude than necessary. So you correct yourself, Rhys is going out of his way to help you. “Thank you.” He gives you a small smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving your room.

So that was how you found yourself bundled up at the rink, at six in the fucking morning, with Rhy watching Azriel practice. He moved like a panther, prowling around the ice and slapping the puck with such ferocity the crack makes you flinch. He tears off his helmet, skating over with a mop of sweat-soaked hair. Az’s hazel eyes flick over you once in distaste before dismissing you completely and turning his attention to Rhys, which makes your temper rise to a heated spark of fury. Your brother clears his throat, nudging you on the back to speak. Azriel turns back to you and raises a cold dark brow.

“Would you please consider being my skating partner for my last few competitions this season? Please” you choke out, trying your best to send him a pleasant smile. Then, Azriel actually has the balls to laugh at you.

“Yeah, I heard about what happened to Vanserra. What makes you think I would ever want to do that?” Azriel chuckles out, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’re about to agree, call this whole mess off, and return to the comfort of your bed when Rhys cuts in.

“Because you owe me,” The two of them have some silent stare-down that you wish you could be privy to. Whatever Rhys had done for Azriel in the past it must have been big because after a moment Azriel fixes those molten eyes on you again.

“Fine, I’ll do it. Be here tomorrow at five so we can try to figure out this shitshow.” He tucks his helmet back over his head and prowls back around to the ice. You guess you’ll be meeting him here tomorrow night and you find yourself agreeing with the sentiment that this will be a shit show indeed.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #acotar au #Meet Me On The Ice

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giggly-squiggily · 3 months ago

Note

I just KNOWWWW Akazas stripes are so ticklish! They have to be! Anything Lee Akaza throw my way 😫

I. Love. This. Headcanon. I love it! My god I can't even begin to count the ways I adore this silly thought of Akaza having the most ticklish stripes on the planet! I've gotcha covered, anons!

Cloud 9 (Taglist peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @t-wordiiish @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mystwrites @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @giggly-toybox

Kokushibou tried to be subtle in his staring. Hard to do given he had six eyes, but he tried all the same.

Before him, Akaza was spacing out, openly ignoring Douma and his constant chatter. Leaned back on his arms, his bright blue stripes were on proper display for all to see. Normally such a sight wouldn’t entertain the highest moon, but after recent events, they were the only thing on his mind.

“He gets so giggly when you trace them!”

He had heard about Akaza’s supposive ticklish stripes. It seemed almost everyone within the Kizuki had tried it at least once, earning various reactions from the red headed demon. Most walked away with temporary injuries; the exception being Rui. Akaza’s soft spot for the spider was as clear as the blue within his markings.

Once again, he found himself staring. So long so when he looked up, Akaza was staring back.

Silence. Moments passed that felt like hours at their stare down. Eventually, Akaza looked away. He always did first.

Kokushibou blinked, his attention shifting once more to Douma nearby. He was staring now, a knowing look in his eyes and a teasing smile.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and traced one of his long nails against a stripe.

“Sh-” Akaza all but jerked at the touch, twisting to snarl at the blonde. Douma laughed like a child, unfazed as he was grabbed and shaken by the angry demon.

That settled it. Kokushibou had to see what this was all about.

~~~

It took awhile, but eventually Kokushibou had him just where he wanted him.

“This better be important. What do you want, anyway?” Akaza growled as he sat before the demon, voice only just shaking beneath his anger.

Kokushibou decided to ignore it as he carried on with his plan. “I wish to ask a favor of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It seems everyone else has had a turn trying it, but I’ve yet to myself.” He leaned forward for emphasis, eye glinting with intrigue. “Would you be so kind as to let me have a go?”

Akaza blinked, taking in what he was saying. When it finally hit, he scrambled back- wide eyed and sputtery. “W-Whoa whoa hang on! Who told you- why do you- absolutely not!” He folded his arms across his chest, pulling his vest over himself even tighter. “There’s no way I’m just gonna sit there and let you-”

“I won’t force you.” Kokushibou cut in, calm as ever. “You and I both know if I wanted to do that, I’d already have you on the floor. I’m that much stronger than you.”

Akaza rolled his eyes at the reminder, still guarded. Kokushibou held up a hand in surrender.

“I assure you I have no intentions of testing it without your consent. If you truly don’t want me to do it, I’ll leave you be.” Kokushibou folded his hands once more, flat against his knees in a show of honesty. “That is all I have to say.”

Akaza stared, trying to find the lie in the demon’s teeth. There was none. Kokushibou was being genuine. A rare thing among them, but it did its job at lowering his walls. Groaning low, he came closer until he was sitting beside the six-eyed demon. “Five minutes.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kokushibou blinked.

“Five minutes. I’ll give you that much time to have your fill tickling me. After that, we never talk about this again.” Akaza wouldn’t look at him, but his expression was clearly a reluctant pout. “Fair enough for you?”

Kokushibou stared. “Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t still be sitting here if I wasn’t.” Akaza gestured him to get on with it, his pout deepening as he looked anywhere but there. “Times a ticking- get your fill and I’m out.”

“Wouldn’t it be more fair to only start the clock when I actually tickle you?” Kokushibou asked, amusement touching his tone as he turned on his knees, reaching out. Before Akaza could respond, he trailed a single finger along the bright blue band against his bicep.

“Eeeh!” Akaza jerked at the touch, frowning lips twitching. Kokushibou did it again. “Ehehem-mmph!” He bit his lip, trying to muffle the sound of his growing giggles building up in his chest.

“Just a touch and you’re already laughing.” The six eyed demon mused, daring to add a nail to the mix. “Is this your worst spot, or are you just anticipating what’s to come?”

“Shuuhuht up! Gahhaha!” Akaza went to swing at him, but Kokushibou was far too fast. He easily grabbed the fist coming his way with one hand, raising it up and giving himself more access to tickle spots. “Nohohoho, don’t! Gehahaha, yoohohu fuhuhucker!”

“Such language. I hope you don’t say such things infront of Rui.” Kokushibou chided as he clawed his fingers, dragging them along the stripes lining Akaza’s side. The reaction was near instant- the redhead went tumbling to the right with a loud cackle. “Knowing you, however- I shouldn’t worry about such things. You’ve always had quite the soft spot for him.”

“Whahahht’s thahahhat suhuhuhhoohohohsed to mehahahahen? Jehehahhaalous muhuhuhuch?” Akaza snarked through his laughter, torn between blocking with his free arm or swinging with the other.

“A little bit.” Kokushibou didn’t elaborate. Instead he dared a finger down the center stripe along Akaza’s chest. Akaza all but flew backwards at the touch, barking out a shrill laugh.

“GAHHAHA!” Losing all balance, Akaza hit the ground back first as he flailed about, shrieking with mirth while Kokushibou closed the gap. Fingers carried on tracing the lines along his torso, unyielding and devastatingly ticklish. “SOHOHOHOON OF A BIHIHIHIIHTCH! YOHOHOHOOHU SIHIIHIHXED EHEHEHEYED FREAHHAHAHK, CUHUHUUHUT IT OHOHOHOUT!”

“It seems tickling makes you more bold.” Kokushibou chided without malice, a rare smile pulling at his lips as he focused his efforts on the stripes running along his upper ribs, making Akaza flail and go near silent with mirth. “Six-eyed freak, huh? Is that what you call me when I’m not around?”

“GAHAHAHAH! I’M SHAHAHRRY! I’M SHAHAHHARRY NOW STAHHAHAHAP!” Akaza all but shrieked, voice fading in and out as he threw a tantrum against the ground. He was sure he looked a right mess, eyes wet and face aching from that ever permanent smile. He wanted to rip off his skin and shake out the feeling until it was gone in the wind.

And yet- a part of him was having fun. A small part of him- ever present. Damn his once beating heart for enjoying this.

“Has it been five minutes already? Shame, and I was just getting to the good part.” Kokushibou hummed as he pulled away, folding his hands neatly in his lap while he watched Akaza roll around with a groan. “I found that quite enjoyable though, Akaza. Thank you for letting me have a turn.”

“Ugh, whatever. You’re just lucky I’m nice.” Akaza quipped back. The words stunned him though- a memory of himself saying that same exact phrasing to a young woman flashing through his mind.

“Akaza?” Kokushibou asked, his teasing tone fading into one of concern. Akaza blinked, reaching up and holding his brow.

“I’m fine.” He assured, sitting up quickly and facing the older demon. “I’m fine, really. Just…this whole thing is weird. You’re weird.” He winced some- he sounded like a bumbling fool. “Not that..that’s really a bad thing though.”

Kokushibou’s various eyes widened, taken aback by the comment. Akaza quickly twisted on his heels to escape. “You remember the deal! This never happened, you hear me bug eyes?”

He ran before he could be caught, flying down the halls and towards his usual hideout. Maybe it was his exhaustion, but he swore he could hear the faintest of chuckles from the room he escaped.

Yeah. Definitely his imagination.

Thanks for reading!

#demon slayer #tickle #tickle fic #squiggily writes the things #akaza #kokushibou #12 kizuki #upper moons #tickly stripes #I love this headcanon so much you don't even KNOW #AHHH!#fluff #Can you tell how much I adore Lee!Akaza?#he's just so fun to wreck lols

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cdragons · 1 year ago

Text

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao. Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī. Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros. Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao. Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī. Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros. Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

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#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd au #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x oc #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x oc #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #reader insert

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