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wwooyology · 6 months ago

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when you call him your husband

「pairing」 : enha ot7 x fem!reader 「word count」 : 4.1k

「synopsis」 : in which you call them your husband instead of your boyfriend...

「genre」 : fluff, established relationship, headcanon

「warnings」 : kissing, petnames (baby, love, princess...), just a lot of fluffiness

「notes」 : this is my compensation for the emotional damage that I may have caused some of you after posting the second part of tmh 😭 I hope y'all enjoy this cutesy scenario!!

Heeseung •°. *࿐

you had seen the trend of the girls calling their boyfriends their husbands for shits and giggles all over your for you page, and you knew you wanted to try it. already imagining what heeseung’s reaction would be and suddenly felt super giddy. so you ran and told your friends all about your idea, and they encouraged you, already knowing that your boyfriend would love it. you had everything planned, knowing that you would do it when you went out to lunch with him this weekend.

but then you saw the viral video of the guy who rudely cut his girlfriend off, telling her that he wasn’t her husband, and doubt started to cloud your mind. what if heeseung reacts the same way? or what if he just laughed at you because he thought it was stupid?

so when you told your friends that you weren’t going to do it anymore, they asked you why until you finally spilled the reason behind your hesitance. your best friend just shook her head with a small laugh.

“girl, that man is far too lovesick; there ain’t no way he’s gonna react like that.” she reassured you, and the other agreed with her rather quickly.

“yeah, and that guy in the video was just an asshole, you can tell.” another of your friends added in, causing you to laugh before saying that she was right.

nodding with a newfound confidence, you told them that you were going to do it, and they all cheered, causing you to laugh. your best friend then grabbed your attention once more with a reassuring smile.

“and if, for some very unlikely reason, he does act like that, my door is always open, and we can eat some ice cream.” she patted your hand, and you nodded again before telling her thank you.

when the day came around that you went to pick up heeseung, you kept telling yourself that everything was going to be okay. the two of you had already talked about just picking up food through the drive-thru and going to eat at the park, seeing as it was a nice day.

“hey baby.” heeseung greeted you as he opened the passenger door of your car, bending down to give you his cheeky smile, “are you sure you wanna drive? I’m more than happy to.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his offer, but you shook your head, “it’s okay, hee, you’re always driving; I got it this time.”

heeseung just chuckled before taking his seat in the passenger seat, situating it so his long legs could fit in front of him before turning towards you. he leaned over the middle console waiting for you to lean forward, which you did not too long after capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. pulling away, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully at the wide grin that took your place on his lips.

“you ready?” you asked him, and he just hummed before sitting back in the seat, his hand going to your thigh.

it didn’t take too long before you made it to the restaurant; pulling into the drive thru you made a quick decision of what you wanted before going to the speaker. the worker greeted you, and you told them what you wanted before looking over at heeseung, who was still looking at the menu.

“just get me whatever you got, baby,” he told you before sitting back and returning to the game he was playing on his phone. you shook your head, a smile tugging on your lips as you turned towards the speaker once more, ready to put your plan into action.

“then my husband wants the same thing,” you told the worker; however, heeseung had stopped playing his game to look over at you, a goofy grin adorning his face. after you made sure that your order was correct, you sat back in your seat to move forward, sparing him a quick glance, “what?” you tried your best to act clueless despite your heart racing under your ribcage.

heeseung just sat there, silent, letting your words fully sink in, the smile never leaving his lips. however, his silence was starting to worry you even if he was wearing a humongous smile. you swallowed thickly as you paid for the food and took the drinks.

he waited until you finished handing him the food before taking your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours, and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, “husband, huh? I like the sound of that.”

Jongseong •°. *࿐

you weren’t entirely sure why you were here, to begin with. your friends had begged and begged you to come to the stupid class reunion, saying that it would be a lot of fun to catch up with one another and that they could finally meet jay, the man that you had been dating for three years. reluctantly, you agreed and talked to jay about going. thankfully, he didn’t mind going as long as you were with him.

however, now you are starting to regret your decision to bring your boyfriend along with you. every single time that you turned your back, even if it was for just a split second, you would turn to see yet another female flirting with him. jay, of course, rejected their advances, pointing over to you, but they just couldn’t seem to catch a hint.

your friends were sure that you were bound to blow a fuse if you turned around to catch another girl trying to touch up on jay. so they grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to them, causing you to look at them with a raised eyebrow.

“girl, you look like you’re about to behead the next person that so much as looks in his direction.” one of them teased, but you nodded softly before saying that you just might at this point.

laughing nervously, your other friend grabs your wrist before placing something in the palm of your hand. confused, you look down only to become even more confused when you see that she has given you a ring.

“put this on and go tell them to leave your husband alone,” she instructed you, motioning to the ring.

so you did just that. handing her your drink, you slipped the ring onto your ring finger before turning and making your way back to jay, who was standing by the drink table, trying to ignore the four other women who had started to surround him.

“hey princess,” jay greeted you as you walked up to him, wrapped your arms around his, and placed a kiss on his cheek. sensing that you were up to something, jay just watched with an amused gleam in his eyes.

you looked over at the other women, who were either glaring at you or raising an eyebrow. offering them a fake sweet smile, you grabbed jay’s hand, making a show of the ring on your finger before tilting your head slightly.

“thank you, ladies, for keeping my husband company while I was away, but I got it from here,” you told them, sas lacing your tone. none of them gave you any backtalk and walked away, not trying to draw attention. jay bit back the smirk as he watched you tell the women off, loving when your jealousy seeped through.

once they were out of sight, jay pulled his arm from your grasp, causing you to look over at him, getting ready to ask him what was wrong. but he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. he then took your left hand into his, looking at the ring that sat on your finger.

“hmm…” he hummed, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your palm, “why don’t we replace this with a real one?”

Jaeyun •°. *࿐

it had always been jake’s thing to go around calling you ‘wife’ or ‘wifey’. he would do it any chance he could because one, he loved seeing how flustered you would get, the tips of your ears turning cherry red. two because one day he planned on making you his wife, so why not just get used to saying it now. you, however, never really went around calling him anything more than your boyfriend or soulmate if you were feeling sentimental, but after he called you his wife in front of practically the whole restaurant for your anniversary, you planned on getting him back. so you waited until it was game night and all of his friends were over to make your move.

friday nights had become game night for your boyfriend and his friends. Of course, you were never excluded. jake was far too clingy to not have you involved, so you always found yourself either perched on the couch next to him or joining in on their countless rounds of games.

most of the time, you would always cook dinner for everyone. However, tonight, after a long week of exams and work, you didn't feel like cooking, so you just decided to order take-out. after running it by the guys and everyone agreeing, you stood to grab your phone that you had charging in the kitchen. grabbing the device, you couldn’t help the smirk that was tugging on your lips as you dialed the number.

whenever the restaurant answered, you started taking all of the guys’ orders, relaying them to the guy on the other side of the phone to make sure that he had heard correctly. after you got all of the guys’ orders, you moved over to your boyfriend, trying to conceal the shit-eating grin that was threatening to spread on your lips.

“babe, did you want your usual?” you asked, standing next to the couch where he was sitting with a controller in his hands; he spared you a quick glance and said a quick ‘yes, please’ before going back to the game. “then my husband would like…” you spoke into the phone as you turned around to walk away, your lips curling inward to keep from giggling when you heard the sounds of the ‘game over’ screen.

“yeah, her hubby would like his usual.” heeseung started to tease the younger male, a smirk on his lips as jake’s face started to turn red. jake just waved him off before setting his controller off to the side so he could catch you before you got too far.

you barely got a chance to walk away before you were being pulled back, a small sound of surprise leaving your lips. jake wore a huge smile on his lips as he held you close even after you sent him a small glare. apologizing to the lady you finished up your order before hanging up and looking at jake.

“your husband?” his voice was slightly higher in pitch as if he was trying to keep from fangirling. you just smiled before kissing his cheek and trying to get up, but he wouldn’t let you. “I wanna hear you say it again.”

your face started to heat up as you felt the guys staring at the two of you, your plan completely backfiring, but the smile that adorned jake’s face was more than enough compensation for you.

Sunghoon •°. *࿐

you walked alongside sunghoon as you both made it to the ice rink. it was well into the winter time, but neither of you had had the time to go out and skate like you do every year, but as soon as both of your schedules had cleared you made it your mission to go. so now you had your fingers intertwined with his as he stuffed your combined hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“it feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” you sigh, basking in the cool night breeze while sunghoon looks over at you, admiring the way your eyelashes lay on your cheekbones that were a light shade of red due to the cold.

he pulls your hands out of his pocket before bringing them to his lips to place a gentle kiss on your fingertip, causing you to look up at him, “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to spend much time together, my love.”

your heart swelled at his actions, causing a soft smile to spread on your lips; you then suddenly thought back to something that your co-worker had told you. she had watched quite a few videos of girls calling their boyfriends ‘husband,’ and she thought that their reactions were the sweetest thing in the world. then she asked you if you had ever called sunghoon, your husband, just to see his reaction, and you told her no, but then the thought of what his reaction might be started to haunt your mind. you wanted to know what his reaction would be but were a little worried that he wouldn’t quite catch it.

looking around, you noticed that there weren’t very many people here tonight, “it doesn’t look too busy.” you observed as you walked over to the skate counter, and sunghoon nodded before looking around the rink himself.

“hi, what size skates for you guys tonight?” the girl on the other side of the counter asked, a sweet smile adorning her lips. You returned it before telling her your shoe size, then looking over at sunghoon, who was still looking around, seeming to have gotten lost in his own world.

swallowing the nervous lump in your throat, you decided now would be as good of a time as any to try the little ‘prank’ out, so you returned your gaze to the worker who was waiting patiently.

“and my husband is gonna need a size…” you told what size sunghoon had needed and the boy's head instantly turned towards you confused about whether or not he had just heard you correctly. his hand squeezing yours enough to gain your attention.

“what did you say?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, causing you to bite your tongue so you don’t lose composure.

“I just told her your shoe size.” you feigned confusion, copying his gesture.

however, sunghoon quickly shook his head, “no, no, not that, before that.” but before you could answer him, the worker came back with your skates, so you thanked her, handing sunghoon his before grabbing your own.

walking over to a bench, you went to sit down, but sunghoon stopped you, “you would want to marry me?” the genuine shock in his tone made your heart drop; had he really thought that you wouldn’t want to marry him?

you released his hand and sat your skates down before reaching up to cup his face in your hands. without another word, you pulled him down, kissing him softly. his fingers curled around your waist, pulling you closer to him just as you pulled away, your forehead resting against his.

“of course, I’d wanna marry you; don’t be so silly.” you smiled softly at him before kissing him once more, then pulled away to put your skates on, “now come on, let’s go skate.”

Sunoo •°. *࿐

it was friday and that meant that you were going to be doing your weekly review of the make-up products that you had used throughout the week. however, this week was going to be a little different; you were going to be doing sunoo’s make-up as a milestone reward for your followers. you had spent quite a bit of time on tiktok and just happened to see the videos where all of the girls were calling their boyfriend’s ‘husband’ and recording their reaction. they all made you giggle, and you just knew you had to try it on sunoo, and this just seemed to be the perfect time for it.

you were in the middle of setting up the camera for the video when there was a knock at the door before sunoo peeked his head through the crack, “hey love, I brought some fruit.” you couldn’t help but smile seeing the small bowl of fruit that was in his hand.

“thank you, sun,” you motioned for him to join you on the ground in front of the camera, “come sit. I’m almost done setting up.”

sunoo happily made his way over to you and sat down, his legs crossed underneath him, and handed you the bowl. his hand then found your knee as you sat the fruit down on the table in front of you before grabbing a blueberry and popping it into your mouth.

“are you ready?” you asked him, and he nodded with a bright smile on his face. you had to fight back the huge grin that was threatening to pull on your lips as you reached forward to turn the camera on.

sitting back down on your knees, you smiled at the camera, “hello everyone! as mentioned on my twitter, I am going to be doing my husband’s makeup.”

a look of shock morphed on sunoo’s face as he looked away from the camera lens to look at you, “husband?” he exclaimed, causing you to jump slightly and look over at him, trying your best to not smile.

“what?” you asked, holding back a giggle when he looked from you to the camera lens before pointing to himself.

“are you talking about me?” he asked with a cheeky smile on his face causing you to giggle.

“yes who else would I be talking about?” your cheeks had started to hurt from smiling so hard as he looked at you in pure astonishment.

“you,” sunoo pointed at you before pointing down to his hand, “marry me?”

“yes,” you laughed, glancing over to the camera once more before letting your eyes fall back on him, “that’s what makes you my husband.”

sunoo looked at you for a second before holding his left hand out to you, “I do,” he looked around the room, “I just wish the scenery was a little bit better, but I do.” you couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes at the sassiness in his tone before reaching over to your vanity to grab a ring.

sitting back down, you held your hand out for him, and sunoo happily placed his hand into yours, allowing you to slip the ring on his ring finger. you then placed a kiss on his knuckles before looking up to capture the bright, sassy smile that played on his lips.

you couldn’t help but laugh as he grabbed your hand to pull you closer, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. "don’t worry, my love. I’ll get you one as well,” he whispered sweetly, relishing in the blush that dusked your cheeks as you continued your recording.

Jungwon •°. *࿐

whenever you had gotten a message from your best friend telling you about a trend that she had seen floating around, you knew that it would be the perfect prank to pull on jungwon. you knew that it could end one of two ways, either he would get shy and just cling himself onto you for the rest of the night, or he would get smug and start teasing you relentlessly. though you would be fine with either of those outcomes, you hoped that he would opt for the first.

you and your friend hadn’t talked in a long time, so you decided to call each other over the weekend. you decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to pull the prank, seeing as she has yet to meet your boyfriend.

so when the weekend rolled around, you told her to call during the time that you knew jungwon would be on his way home from the gym. you sat down at the dining table talking to her, catching each other up on your current life events before you heard the front door opening.

“is that him?” your friend asked, muffling her giggles when you placed your finger over your lips, but you nodded nonetheless. jungwon walked into the kitchen with a smile spreading on his face when he saw you sitting at the table, his dimples on display.

“hey baby, how was the gym?” you asked him, a small smile adorning your lips as he sat his water bottle down on the counter before walking over to you.

“it was good,” he leaned down, kissing the top of your head before glancing at your phone screen. "what are you up to?”

you moved your phone up enough for him to see your friend, who waved at him, “remember I was calling my friend this weekend?” he nodded, standing behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“who’s this?” your friend asked in mock curiosity as she bit the inside of her cheek, and you had to bite back a smirk of your own.

you looked up at jungwon for a moment before going back to your phone, “this is jungwon, my husband.”

jungwon’s eyes widened in shock as he looked down at you, but you just continued your conversation as if it were a normal day. he had been fully prepared for you to say boyfriend, but he definitely wasn’t prepared for the word ‘husband’ to leave your lips.

you couldn’t help the silly smile that pulled on your lips when jungwon wrapped his arms around your shoulders, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you could tell he was flustered by how warm his cheek was against your skin.

“I’m your husband?” his voice came out in a hushed tone against your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine, but you just hummed, leaning further into him before reaching up to run your fingers through his slightly damp hair as you continued your conversation with your friend while he clung to you.

Ni-ki •°. *࿐

it was saturday night, and you were spinning around in your gaming chair, waiting for riki to send you a message letting you know that he was ready to hop on. you had made a plan to livestream a new game with riki for all of your subscribers to watch because that had practically begged you to make another video with your boyfriend. you were almost sure that your subscribers liked him more than you.

just as you were getting ready to grab your phone to message him first, his name popped up on your screen, causing a wide smile to erupt on your face. quickly opening your phone, you went to your and riki’s chat, seeing that he had said he was ready to go with a little sunglasses emoji. laughing softly, you moved closer to your desk and grabbed your headset before calling riki.

it didn’t even finish ringing for the second time when riki picked up, “hey baby.” his voice flowed through your headset, causing a smile to pull your lips even wider.

you greeted him before pulling up the game and making sure everything for the live stream was ready, “ready to go?” you asked him, and you could hear him hum from the other side. taking that as a green light, you started the stream.

after quickly doing your intro, you waited for more people to join the stream before starting the game. a laugh fell from your lips as you read the comments asking if riki was still going live with you.

“don’t worry, guys. riki is joining us today. he’s actually here right now.” you clicked a few buttons before letting riki pop up on the screen next to you.

then came the influx of comments about how cute he was and how he played games so well, or there were the occasional few comments about how cute the two of you were. smiling, you answered a few questions. unbeknownst to you, riki was watching you through the screen, missing the comment that popped up about someone claiming him as their ‘husband’. rolling your eyes playfully, you situated yourself in your seat before speaking.

“he’s my husband, actually.” your tone was playful, but your words had completely caught the boy off guard.

riki could feel his ears burning red as he tried his best to remain stoic as he watched you move to start the game. his eyes flickered over to the comments, seeing a few about how they would fight you for his attention, and he could tell that they were starting to annoy you, so he tried to push what you had said to the side

“let’s start the game, ya?” he cleared his throat before letting his eyes flicker over to you, and you nodded, getting ready to hit the start button as soon as riki was in the lobby. however, riki had completely missed the small smirk that was pulling on the corner of your lip, wanting nothing more than to tease him, knowing that you had made him slightly flustered.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

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Hi!! Loving dad! gojo :)

I love ballet and I love gojo, so could you do gojo bringing his cute little daughter to ballet class please?

twirl — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: hehe I am so happy dad!gojo is getting some love; hope you enjoy

“you got your water bottle?”

“mhm!”

“your shoes?”

“yup!”

“did you give mommy a kiss?”

“yeah!”

“good girl; now, do a twirl.”

she excitedly does as told and squeals in happiness when satoru picks her up and spins her around, “that’s my pretty little princess!”

he gently puts her down and she holds his index finger. he blows you a kiss then bends to tell her, “say bye to mommy.”

“bye, mommy! I love you!”

you chuckle, “I love you too, sweetie! have fun!”

and so satoru embarks on a journey to d/n’s ballet class.

the car ride is full of d/n’s favorite songs accompanied by her dad’s horrible singing that she somehow likes.

when he gets there, he notices that he is the only dad there, save for two other cool dads.

the mothers are also completely enamored by satoru, and while another time he would boast in the attention, his priority right now is his daughter, his daughter that looks very scared and nervous.

he sits on the ground so he is at eye level with her, “what’s up, pretty?”

she pads her way into his arms, and he instantly embraces her. he gently pats her back, and the last thing on his mind is how uncomfortable the position is for him. her little hands clutch his shirt, “what if I do bad?”

“I know you will do amazing,” he grins and squishes her cheeks, “and even if you do, mistakes are okay, and most importantly, daddy’s always here to save the day!”

d/n nods with a small smile. she gives him a tight hug, before she pulls back and starts fidgeting with her fingers. she looks up to him with matching azure eyes, “can you dance with me?”

he abruptly stands up then points at a small boy, “get me a tutu!”

and that’s how you found your husband killing it with d/n on her ballet class.

they did have to put him further away from the kids because of his gigantic legs, but he is still having the time of his life. d/n is also very entertained with her dad and is trying to copy his every move, completely forgetting about the ballet teacher.

the mothers are also very amused by the act, with some nudging their husbands to do the same. little do they know that satoru is unmatched in whatever he tries, especially when he is trying to impress his little princess.

she starts squealing and jumping in place, “daddy, you’re so cool!”

he spins around before stopping to peck her cheek, “thank you, cutie!”

“satoru, what are you—?”

“wifey!” he screams before launching at you and pulling you into one big bear hug. of course, satoru is a show-off, and he likes to make a statement. that’s why he dips you and kisses you in front of everyone in the room. he pulls you back up, chuckling at your shocked expression.

“mommy! mommy!” she dashes to you and hugs your leg. she then quickly looks at satoru, tugging on his pants, “daddy!” she points at her cheek, “kiss, please!”

he swiftly picks her up and starts peppering her face with kisses and you watch with a warm smile. after he is done with his ambush, he sets her down with another hug. she looks a lot more confident and is willing to go on and try again by herself.

satoru is about to declare his mission successful, but someone rudely interrupts his victory dance.

a boy shyly makes his way towards d/n, who is right beside satoru. the boy looks at the ground, a pink hue coating his cheeks. he starts to murmur softly, “um, h—hi; I am—“

satoru crouches on the ground and stares at the boy. the kid is clutching a freaking rose. your husband’s dad instincts go off and he turns the boy around and lightly pushes him away, “go play with your friends, buddy.”

the boy turns back to satoru, but, this time, he is frowning at the man, “I wanna give d/n a flower!”

“well, I am here to do that, so you can go away,” satoru stands up proudly, “and! I give her flowers, not just one!”

the boy’s frown deepens and he turns to his friends and whistles for them to come over. quickly, a gang of 6 year old boys are at satoru’s feet. the boy points at satoru, “this man won’t let me give d/n a flower…attack!”

and because your husband’s petty like that, he keeps his infinity on and doesn’t flinch in the slightest. the kids keep trying to punch and kick him, but he doesn’t falter. he grins smugly at you, and you merely roll your eyes with a smile.

meanwhile, d/n already went to continue her class like nothing is happening.

you have no idea how the parents or ballet teacher are letting these kids ‘gang up’ on your husband, but you guess that everyone wants some entertainment every once in a while. plus, most of the kids got tired and ditched the ambush anyway.

now, no one is left but the flower boy.

the poor kid is panting and struggling as he looks up at the smug man. satoru smiles at you, turning off his infinity, “see, babe? told ya nothing can—“

the little boy has kicked your husband’s shin, harshly too. he huffs, holding back tears, “you’re a meanie!” he runs away to his mom, leaving satoru to hold his leg in pain.

you frown sympathetically at the boy, “satoru, you made him cry.”

“well, you’re going to make me cry with how little you care about how I am in pain right now!”

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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jinwoosbabyboo · 20 days ago

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Watch Your Mouth

Dealing with someone talking shit about your man and you stand up for them because you're not about to let someone talk crazy about your man. A/N: I like to imagine this as an office girly scene and you have that one hater ass bitter coworker [Requested by: onliafaze]

Zayne

You could tell you were coming down with a cold and it was going to be a bad one. Zayne just so happened to have the day off and you were struggling to make it through your last shift before your days off. So being the loving boyfriend that he is, he brought you homemade soup and some cold medicine. He even kissed you before leaving not caring that you might get him sick as well. Just another reason to spend the day in bed with you. You sat at your desk with the biggest smile on your face. Suddenly a bitch with a voice like nails on a chalk board decided to insert herself into your bubble.

Hater: If you took better care of yourself your man wouldn’t have to waste his time coming all the way here to bring you soup MC: Weren't you sick last month and your man told you he was going to leave until you were healthy again and proceeded to ignore you for a week? Hater: ..... MC: Just because your man doesn’t care about you doesn’t mean you need to project on me Hater: I’m not projecting! MC: ………Whatever helps you sleep at night miss girl

Once you get home to tell Zayne what happened when he left, him being the sensible person that he is, suggests that maybe your coworker was just in a bad mood.

MC: Don't defend her Zayne: Sorry I meant her man hates her MC: Thank you

Rafayel

Rafayel truly had eyes for you and you only. He cared very little for others feelings you were the one and only exception. He also hated to be touched so when your coworker saw you constantly having a hand on him, when he would come by the office, she thought she’d try her luck. Rafayel immediately looked at her like she smeared the most vile thing known to man on his arm.

Hater: Your man is rude as hell MC: To you. Hater: No he’s just rude MC: To you. Hater: Why just me MC: You’re weird … who grabs on another woman's man right in front of her? You’re weird Hater: You’re rude as hell too you guys are made for each other MC: Cry about it

Rafayel stared at you in admiration while you told him what went down after he left.

Rafayel: Have I ever told you how hot you are when you get serious? MC: Yes all the time

Xavier

“Damn it I left my tea in my car” You had gotten all the way up to your desk when you realized what you were forgetting. On top of that it was cold so you were dreading having to walk in it again. Maybe you could make a cup in the office kitchen, but they only have sugar and you prefer honey; you prefer your tea. “I’ll go grab it for you just stay here and warm up” Xavier said as he appeared next to you with that soft expression he always has when he looks at you. “Thank you Xav you’re so sweet” You handed him your keys and watched as he quickly made his way out of the office before turning and smiling to yourself.

Hater: What is he a dog? Does he do everything for you? MC: ….. You know if your man hates you just say that Hater: M-my man doesn’t hate me w-why would you say that? MC: Look at you stuttering and shit did I hit a nerve? Hater: Whatever MC: Have the day you deserve babes!

Xavier approached you right as your coworker barged past him almost knocking the tea from his hand. He looked back with confusion etched across his face before turning back to you.

Xavier: What happened? MC: She was just admiring the relationship we have Xavier: What really happened? MC: She wanted smoke so I gave her a barbecue

Sylus

Thanks to Sylus wanting to spoil you at all time your office was the most decorated with all new everything and was even professionally designed to be organized and efficient. People loved to come by and admire your office set up. Except for one person who just seems to turn her nose up at you. She pouts for hours on end when Sylus makes his appearance to bring you lunch, flowers or even a ‘just because’ gift when he wants to see you. You ignored this bitter coworker day in and day out because why would you need the kind of negativity in your life? One day though she finally decided to voice her unwanted opinion to you.

Hater: You only have all of that because your man buys you everything MC: Yea … he does … tell your man to work harder Hater: That is so insensitive what if I'm single? MC: I can see why….. Hater: What's that supposed to mean!? MC: You're insufferable I wouldn't date you either

Sylus always found your attitude cute and it was even better when it wasn't directed at him.

Sylus: You said she was insufferable? MC: Somebody had to do it Sylus: and you were the perfect one for the job huh? MC: I was defending you praise me Sylus: I've never been defended before thank you Princess

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads sylus #lnds #lnds rafayel #lnds zayne #lnds xavier #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #nikaaaaimagine

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jenscx · 1 month ago

Text

KISS ME MORE — ning yizhuo

tldr: my (22f) gay roommate’s (21f) dating life makes me feel weird. she’s one of my best friends but now i’m wondering if i could be homophobic.

tags fluff, crack, jealousy, non-idol au, roommates, based off that one reddit story, short fic, dialogue heavy, mentions of jmj, hi yunjin! tw for oblivious ning, pacing’s weird kinda

wordcount 5.2k

🎙️ author’s note: happy birthday ning! late fic ik… but i’ve been busy (i’m sorry 😞) hope our dearest main vocal stays happy for the rest of her life! can’t imagine aespa without her 🤍 happy reading~

r/relationships posted by

u/throwawaylizard 16 hours ago.

TLDR: my (22f) gay roommate’s (21f) dating life makes me feel weird. she’s one of my best friends but now i’m wondering if i could be homophobic.

i am currently roommates with this girl, A. we've been staying together ever since we graduated and we’re very close. sometimes we’ll even jokingly flirt with each other but she knows i’m straight and she has never made me uncomfortable before. i’m a foreigner and A has definitely helped me grow accustomed to the culture here. i owe it all to her. which is why i’m confused about my feelings right now.

i’ve never thought of myself to be discriminatory towards anyone and i always welcomed those different from me, regardless of their sexual orientation. however, recently my roommate has come out to me. i supported her and didn’t think much of it after. but here’s where the problem starts. she came back with a girl a few days ago that i recognise from our extended friend group. i have nothing against gay people but when i saw the girl, i just felt so upset. at first i thought it was because i was in a bad mood and all i wanted was to cuddle with A, but afterwards, A would progressively get more touchy with that girl (lets call her Y). every time i would see them, i just felt bad. i wanted to puke at the sight.

i caught them making out on the couch once and i got so pissed off. i think it was because of a rough day but basically when my roommate started to apologise, i just blew her off. Y seemed embarrassed too. i felt really bad afterwards since A was really hurt by my action. she asked me why i was so angry and i just lied saying that something at work made me upset. i don’t want to tell her that it was because seeing her with a girl that i was annoyed.

there was another incident where she brought Y to our weekly game night. all my friends seemed fine with her, except for me. one of my friends, let’s call her M, had to pull me aside to ask what was wrong with me. in that moment, i realised that i was only hurting A and Y by being a jerk. i’m normally a polite person but that day i was being unnecessarily rude to someone i didn’t even know. i chalked it up as wanting only the best for A since she’s a year younger than me and wanting to protect her. she doesn’t really date anyone and she’s very quiet. am i being unreasonable? i really don’t want to be homophobic. i told M all about my feelings of homophobia and she told me that she was dating a girl too. i didn’t know why she brought it up but then she asked if i felt any disgust towards her for being gay. i said no and that her sexual orientation would never change our friendship.

so she asked why do i only feel that way towards A? and i want to extend that question to everyone here too. can someone help? do you have any experience with something like this? i don’t want to lose A as a friend. she’s one of my best friends and i can’t see myself not standing beside her in the future. we’ve been through a lot together and i don’t want this to be the reason why we end our friendship. she’s never once complained about my dating life and it feels hypocritical to do the same to hers. but i just feel queasy whenever she brings up other girls. like i want to bash my head against the wall type.

do i have selective homophobia? can someone help?

⇧ 157 | ⇩ | 89 comments

u/betterthingz01 | 12h

op i hate to break this to you… but i think you might be in love with your roommate.

u/throwawaylizard | 12h

can you elaborate? please!!!

u/flatearther | 11h

Are u sure u don’t have a crush on A? Or that u are straight?

u/throwawaylizard | 10h

uhm well i’m straight… so i don’t think i have a crush on A but if i was into girls, i’d definitely fall in love with her!! she’s really sweet and caring.

u/flatearther | 10h

Oh 😭😭

u/mingmingz | 7h

how do you feel if your roommate brought back a different girl? maybe you just don’t like Y as a person?

u/throwawaylizard | 7h

she used to bring other girls around too i think they were just friends though. i felt the same way but just seeing her kiss Y makes me want to throw up :((

u/blueskies444 | 5h

have u tried talking to ur roommate? i think communication is the best solution here

u/throwawaylizard | 4h

i talked to her a few days ago, asking her if she could stop bringing Y to our hangouts or apartment because it feels weird. our friend group only really consisted of five people and as bad as it sounds, Y just felt like an intruder. she kinda looked at me weird before agreeing. but then she asked if i would be fine if she went to Y’s apartment instead and obviously i said it wasn’t any of my business. A got a little upset and we haven’t been talking recently…

u/blueskies444 | 4h

i’m gonna be real w u for a sec and say that A is most definitely trying to get u jealous

u/throwawaylizard | 3h

why would she do that?

u/blueskies444 | 2h

yeahhh i’m not the one who should tell u why

“ning yizhuo, why am i getting messages from jimin unnie saying that she found your reddit post?” minjeong’s voice shrills out behind yizhuo. the girl shrinks, shivers running down her spine at the thought of anyone finding out about her post. she had resorted to reddit for help after much consideration and even aeri had said that reddit was surprisingly helpful at times.

“that’s not me! you’ve got the wrong person!”

minjeong rolls her eyes and tosses her phone onto yizhuo’s desk, “that’s literally you. ddongie would be upset to know that he’s a throwaway lizard.”

yizhuo instantly protests, “that just means that it isn’t my main account! i didn’t want people to find my real account.”

“oh, so you are throwaway lizard?”

she cowers at minjeong’s intense gaze, knowing that her little slip up just cost her whole facade.

“well the comments were helpful!”

“did you not reread what you typed out?”

minjeong’s genuine tone makes yizhuo hesitate.

“yeah? did i make a lot of spelling mistakes…?”

“no! did you not realise?” minjeong asks again. yizhuo huffs, swerving back around in her chair, “realise what? that i’m a bad friend? y/n hasn’t talked to me in days.”

just as she said in her reddit post, you haven’t spoken a word to her ever since that day she confronted you. yizhuo doesn’t think she was super mean with her words but the way you had reacted made it seemed like she killed your whole family.

she had only said, “hey, can you stop bringing yunjin over?” and her mere words had launched a full-blown argument where you had insinuated that yizhuo was jealous that you had someone to rely on.

it couldn’t have been further from the truth! yizhuo would never be upset about your happiness. any semblance of bitterness had lessened when she saw how bright your smile was or how much you were laughing when yunjin would tell a joke.

(she didn’t find it funny but at least you laughed. yunjin was the epitome of dad jokes. she was not funny.)

“she really hasn’t? wow, she’s determined,” minjeong chuckles.

yizhuo rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to her sketchbook. a few scrawned out designs, nothing much. just to take her mind off this situation for now. the pencil drawings somehow only manages to ensure that her brain constantly thinks about you though. how you encouraged her to enrol in a fashion course and how you were certain that yizhuo would become the biggest designer ever known.

she would giggle at your claims and humour you. now all that was left was your silence.

“why would she be determined to ignore me?” yizhuo asks, sighing, “i was upset but now it just seems like she thinks i don’t want her to be happy.”

minjeong raises an eyebrow, “what did the comments say? did they help?”

yizhuo huffs just thinking about the reddit comments. none of them really helped her to identify her feelings. just stating that she was gay and in love. both wrong!

“they said i’m in love with y/n and i’m jealous of yunjin,” she answers coolly, trying not to get too worked up over the false accusations.

minjeong winces, “do you think they’re right?”

yizhuo furrows her eyebrows.

“no?! i’m not gay!”

“but do you like y/n?”

“no! she’s just a very good friend!”

the brunette sighs, “that’s what they all say.”

“minjeong!”

yizhuo couldn’t be in love with you. no way. you were really just a good friend. one of her closest. she adored you greatly and wanted the best for you.

“so why are you so upset?” minjeong asks.

“i don’t know! that’s why i’m asking reddit! but now i just look like an idiot,” yizhuo groans, wanting to pull her hair out of frustration, which truly shows how irritated she was. she would never harm her hair.

“yizhuo, have you ever considered that you’re not as straight as you thought?”

yizhuo turns back to face minjeong, who’s sitting on her bed. she thinks back to all the times you’ve hung out with her. the lingering touches of comfort. the warmth she felt whenever you spoke.

she just wants her friend back. and she doesn’t know why she’s acting so unreasonable. could minjeong have a point? what if yizhuo…

“oh my gosh! i’m jealous since she’s out and gay—”

minjeong lights up, squealing, “yes!”

“and i’m just a straight girl without any confidence! i’m jealous of her confidence!”

minjeong deflates almost instantly.

yizhuo knows she’s right, so she immediately hatches a plan to talk to you. one comment said communication was vital in preserving this friendship, so yizhuo jumped into action. she knew you had your shifts at night and yizhuo could catch you off-guard right after. your work usually ended late and yizhuo always dozed off on the couch waiting for you. recently that routine has been broken, of course, but that’s when you’re most susceptible to vulnerability. yizhuo needed space to be honest and truthful.

thus, she waits patiently in the living room. yizhuo’s not really sure how long your shift lasts but she normally hears your keys jingle at midnight, so maybe then?

she waits an hour. then another. and then another. she spends the time scrolling on instagram, a frown forming on her face when yunjin appears on her feed.

then, finally, she hears the door creaking. jumping up from her lying position, yizhuo sits upright, focused.

“oh,” is your first word to her. not ‘hi’, or ‘hello’, just an acknowledgment.

yizhuo blinks at the sight of you in your work attire. but she quickly shoves the thought of how attractive you looked into the back of her mind.

“hey,” she winces at her own unfamiliar tone, “can we talk?”

you stare at her in shock before reluctantly nodding.

“yeah, sure.”

she pats the space next to her and clears her throat as you sit down.

“i know i’ve kind of been a jerk lately especially to you and yunjin, but i just want to say that i’m sorry.”

surprise flickers in your eyes, “oh.”

“i talked to minjeong unnie and it really cleared things up. i realised that i was upset because it felt like we weren’t as close as before. knowing that someone like yunjin could come replace me. i was jealous that you had someone while i didn’t. it felt like you were moving on without me, so i got a bit angry. i’m really sorry for the way i treated you and yunjin.”

(their first interaction really went poorly. yizhuo had came home, ready for a long movie night, just to find a random girl (well, not really random) sprawled out on her couch.

“i’m home,” yizhuo calls out, carefully approaching the body. long and lanky is the first thing she notices. and the bright red hair. yizhuo dyed her hair red before, it stained her pillowcase cover. she wonders if this girl’s pillowcase covers are stained with red dye too.

“hey, how was your day?” you ask, laying beside the girl, “sorry, this is yunjin. we just finished a gym session together with aeri unnie. minjeong unnie knows her.”

no wonder why you were barely dressed. yizhuo scrunches her nose at the sight of yunjin’s arm wrapped around your bare torso. she nods and asks quietly, “why is she here?”

you laugh, “i was bragging about my post-gym lunch and she said she wanted to try.”

yizhuo’s never tried your cooking before. she feels a little out of place now.

“ah, okay,” she replies dryly, not bothering to keep her volume down, “is she going to be here all day?”

yunjin wakes up at the commotion, a little disoriented as she shifts.

“oh, shit. sorry, y/nnie,” yunjin yawns, sitting up, “sorry ning, i accidentally fell asleep.”

“it’s yizhuo. only my friends call me ning,” she spits out. you send her a scalding look that makes her want to retract her words, “whatever. sorry. see you guys later.”

at night, just before you leave for your shift, you reprimand her, saying that she was extremely rude to someone she didn’t even know. yizhuo had tuned out most of your scolding, not wanting to hear you defend yunjin.)

“oh…”

yizhuo swallows harshly, squeezing her eyes shut, “i just need you to know i’m not praying for your downfall or anything. i want the best for you, especially since you feel like my younger sister.”

as soon as she finishes her little speech, she opens her eyes to your flabbergasted expression. eyebrows furrowed with your mouth agape.

“uhm… can you forgive me?”

yizhuo really needs you to forgive her. she doesn’t know what she would do if you decided that this was the breaking point for your friendship. she would respect your decision but still, it wouldn’t be nice. who would want that? and if you decided to end the friendship, what would happen with the apartment? yizhuo really likes being roommates with you. it would suck to have to find another roommate as meticulous as you.

“well— uhm, of course,” you stutter, “i gotta go shower. sorry.”

“oh, okay.”

just as you’re about to get up, yizhuo reaches for your hand, “we’re okay, right?”

she watches your throat bobble before rasping out, “yes. we’re fine.”

wow! yizhuo mentally pats herself on the back.

that was so easy. it felt like a whole weight got lifted off her chest. yizhuo smiles to herself and enters her own room, proud.

(meanwhile, in your own room, you vent to yunjin, bewildered by yizhuo’s obliviousness.

“she said i’m like a sister! her absolute gall! and she said it’s because she’s upset she doesn’t have someone like me! your whole jealousy tactic didn’t do shit!”

“girl, calm down. i didn’t know you liked the dumb ones. who knew she was so stupid?”)

you stare at yizhuo, who’s trying her best not to show any disdain for the way yunjin’s arm was slung over your shoulder. she must either be extremely self-repressed or just stupid. probably both. unless she didn’t actually like you. that thought, you didn’t dare to entertain. the once confident and bold girl had turned into this timid and shy kitten.

“take a shot if you’ve kissed someone in this room before!” aeri reads out the card before gulping down her drink. minjeong and jimin do the same and so do a few others. when yunjin shakes you ever so slightly, you take the initiative to swallow down the burning sensation. yizhuo’s glare narrows before she turns away entirely.

subtly grinning at her act of jealousy, you hum happily. there’s an outcry of people asking who aeri kissed and the attention shifts away. most people in your extended friend group had assumed you and yunjin to be dating. the only people who knew the truth were minjeong and aeri. jimin was kept in the dark since well, truthfully, she couldn’t keep a secret from yizhuo.

“take a shot if you ever kissed someone of the same gender.”

there’s more people drinking this time. you drink yours after a refill and so does yunjin. your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets when yizhuo drinks as well. wasn’t she straight?

“who did you kiss?!” jimin screeches.

yizhuo wipes her lips, glistening with alcohol, “a friend. it was a dare in high school.”

you listen with rapt attention as aeri eggs on, “was it good? are girls better than guys?”

“well, it was definitely less sloppy,” yizhuo shrugs, giggling. her blush has worsened under the lighting and you can tell she’s at least tipsy now. the redness was currently spreading throughout her cheekbones and neck. you would coo at the adorable sight of her pouting and playing with the soju bottle if she wasn’t the stupidest girl on earth. you noticed how yizhuo drank every time yunjin squeezed your shoulder or you leaned into her touch. was she seriously still so thick?

“take a shot if you ever crushed on someone in this room,” aeri groans, downing her glass again. you drink yours and others follow. it wasn’t unexpected. you were seventy percent sure that most of the guys had crushed on jimin before, at least for a second. or maybe hanbin. he was cute too. that, you could admit.

“aeri… why are all the questions about dating?!” jimin whines, flopping onto the carpeted floor. minjeong winces before exclaiming, “i think she’s drunk now. let’s call it a night, okay?”

you agree. yizhuo looks seconds away from passing out as well and despite your recent gym endeavours, you do not want to carry a twenty four year old woman back home. yunjin taps your side and slyly tilts her head towards yizhuo, who’s leaning against the couch.

“go save your princess, romeo,” she whispers and stands to help minjeong clean up.

after all the bottles had been cleared, you crouched to yizhuo’s eye level, “ning, let’s go. it’s time to go home.”

her eyelids flutter open and she blinks at you wearily, “home?”

you nod, standing to wrap her arm over your shoulder to steady her. finally on her two feet, you bid goodbye to everyone and make your way home, albeit slowly.

every minute or so, yizhuo would jolt and nearly topple over. right as you reach your place, she leans over to the sidewalk drain and gags. you let go instantly and take out your phone to record her. next time she wants to get drunk, you’ll just show her the video. let her reflect.

“yizhuo, hurry up, i wanna shower,” you complain, dragging the hem of her shirt.

“o-okay…!”

“uhm, you have to get up.”

yizhuo nods again, wobbling as she stands. you grip her wrist and pull her into the apartment lobby. her body weighs heavily onto yours in the lift and you huff at the stench of alcohol.

“you smell bad,” you sigh.

“really?” yizhuo giggles, “you don’t like it?” the elevator dings.

she turns around to rest her head on your shoulder.

“i shouldn’t have gotten so drunk…”

“no kidding. c’mon you big baby.”

finally, after much effort, you manage to get yizhuo onto the couch. you’re heaving and panting at the end but at least she’s comfortable.

“please never get this drunk again,” you groan, flopping onto the couch.

yizhuo moans, “not my fault.”

“yeah? who’s fault is it then?”

she flips herself around, facing the ceiling, “y-yours.”

“how is it my fault?”

“you and yunjin…” she slurs out and your heart leaps.

“how is it our fault?”

“you keep touching each other,” yizhuo inhales sharply before mumbling, “i hate it…”

grinning, you pat her back.

“yeah. it’s my fault. sorry baby.”

“hmfph…”

r/relationships posted by

u/throwawaylizard 4 hours ago.

UPDATE: my (22f) gay roommate’s (21f) dating life makes me feel weird. she’s one of my best friends but now i’m wondering if i could be homophobic.

hi guys! so i know some of you all have been asking for an update and here it is. there’s really nothing much that has changed? we’re back to normal, mostly. A doesn’t bring Y around as much anymore which honestly, should make me feel guilty but i don’t. we had a talk and i think it went rather well. i told her i felt like i was left behind and she forgave me for being so shitty.

it feels like this was just a hurdle in our friendship and we’re closer than ever. she’s become really touchy with me and i appreciate that things are back to normal. she’s been initiating talks and hangout sessions which boosts my mood immensely. i’m really happy with the progress we made. we’ve even started cooking together and it feels awesome. Y had tasted her cooking before and i didn’t. so it felt like this hole in my heart had been patched up. our movie nights have become solely ours and everything’s great. she’s the sweetest girl i know and the most caring, so i really do feel happy that i have my best friend and roommate back. our cold war was doing a toll on my mental and physical health but a simple conversation had cleared the air so easily.

sometimes when she brings up Y since she still hangs out with her, i do feel a little upset. she told me they aren’t dating, just good friends. but other than that, we’re cool. thanks for all the comments! i’m glad i’m not homophobic :D

⇧ 178 | ⇩ | 102 comments

u/imissher | 3h

op you can’t be serious…

u/throwawaylizard | 3h

? what’s wrong

u/imissher | 2h

it feels as if you haven’t really solved this ‘homophobia’ issue. just put it off to the side.

u/throwawaylizard | 2h

IM NOT HOMOPHOBIC 😭

u/mingzmingz | 2h

well i’m glad? as long as you guys are happy ig. idk what’s up with gay people

u/throwawaylizard | 2h

thank you! i’m not gay though.

u/japansfinest | 1h

HOLY SHIT NING

u/throwawaylizard | 1h

OMG DONT DOX ME???

u/japansfinest | 1h

GIRL BE SERIOUS RN 😐😐

u/1800hotnfun | 1h

i strive to live as blissfully ignorant as you, op

u/throwawaylizard | 1h

not very sure if this is a compliment.

things had reverted back to normal. yizhuo was happy again and it seemed like everything was fine.

so how did she get here?

yizhuo had simply gone out to get groceries for your dinner together and when she arrived home, hands full of plastic bags, she heard the tail of your conversation over the phone.

“i don’t think she’s picking up my hints, yun,” you say in hushed whispers, “maybe she really is straight. or she just doesn’t like me.”

despite yizhuo’s moral compass, she decides to listen in on your conversation. she’s never heard of you liking someone before, or being so insecure. what girl wouldn’t like you back? and you liked a straight girl too?

she can’t hear yunjin’s reply but you let out an exasperated sigh, “maybe she thinks i’m just being a really good friend. i thought she would have already realised i liked her by now. your whole jealousy plan didn’t work either. i mean, it did but not really.”

yizhuo slowly twists the door knob before loudly announcing, “i’m home!”

she hopes that by now, you would have ended the call so she wouldn’t have to interact with yunjin at all.

“oh,” she catches the anxiety in your voice, “did you get everything?”

“yup. there was a sale on apples, so i got those too,” yizhuo says, a little too cheerfully, but she wants to cover up any nervousness. as she places the bags on the kitchen counter, you stand up to help unpack everything.

while you start to arrange all the groceries, yizhuo thinks about your words. liking someone. a girl. a straight girl who was potentially oblivious to your advances?

yizhuo scrunches her nose.

sounds…

familiar.

“hey, did you get healthier milk? the one with less sugar added.”

as you twirl around to ask, yizhuo’s heart gets caught in her throat.

she was the straight oblivious girl.

“uh— yeah. i got both,” she gestures awkwardly to the pile of bags. you nod and go back to sorting everything out. god, she needs a breather. trudging to the couch, she sighs as the softness envelops her. she couldn’t wrap her head around this— you liked her? potentially? definitely?

yizhuo spends the next few minutes having an existential crisis. she was straight! the straight girl that you liked! and that whole jealousy thing with yunjin! you planned that! she can’t believe it. all her nights were spent debating whether she was homophobic or not and it was all a rouse to get her jealous? well, was she jealous? minjeong had seemed intent on getting her to admit that, which she did. but maybe it was because she was jealous of yunjin.

not for taking up your time.

but for being able to touch you and hold you in ways she can’t.

holy shit. she’s not as straight as she once thought.

and she has a huge crush on her roommate.

how could she let reddit comments be right?!

yizhuo stares blankly at the ceiling. you call out from the kitchen, “do you want white or red wine?”

she stands up from the couch, resolute in her decision now.

no wonder you had looked so offended after she sister zoned you! yizhuo would hate it too if all she was to you was an unnie. she wanted— no, needed to be your everything.

“yizhuo?” you ask again, examining the two bottles of wine.

yizhuo almost sprints into the kitchen. the sight of you with your hair up, the cute lace white apron wrapped around your waist, and your focused expression. it has her drooling. everything was so domestic.

how hasn’t yizhuo noticed this sooner?

“white wine please,” she answers when you’re within arms reach.

“are we drinking the whole bottle?”

she stretches out her arms to engulf your body in hers and reads the label on the wine bottle over your shoulder. taking gratification in the way your body shudders, yizhuo hides a pleased smirk.

“hm, should we?” she whispers hotly beside your ear. you shiver before muttering, “maybe. is tonight a special occasion?”

“i mean, it could be,” yizhuo grins, “you were promoted recently, right?”

tonight was one of your day-offs, and you came back recently, boasting about the extra time off you got from being promoted. of course that was celebrated with a simple get together with friends. but yizhuo didn’t get her own special celebration with you.

“yeah? okay, we’ll drink it all then.”

yizhuo smiles into your hair. she’s never felt happier. knowing that her inner frustrations had been settled finally. you were just trying to get her jealous. a good attempt nonetheless, it worked incredibly well. but now she’s certain of her own feelings.

“you smell nice,” she blurts out.

“i used your shampoo. ran out of mine.”

“mhm. smells good.”

yizhuo spots the hint of satisfaction on your face.

“are you complimenting yourself right now?”

“i have really good taste,” she states.

you roll your eyes playfully before detaching her arms but she just slithers them back into place.

“ning, i have to cook.”

“hold on,” she mumbles, “i think we can celebrate another thing.”

sensing your confusion, she continues brazenly, “we can celebrate our first night as a couple, right?”

“what—”

“i’m sorry for being so oblivious this whole time. i got so pissy because i was jealous. apparently, i’m not straight. or i just like you, i don’t know yet. all i know is that i envision myself by your side,” yizhuo explains, “everytime you mentioned yunjin i got upset and it’s because i thought you guys were dating. that’s why i didn’t like any of the girls you brought home either. i’m sorry for saying you’re like my sister. i like you a lot. not in a straight girl way.”

she hears you gasp and she can’t bring herself to continue without your reaction. yizhuo’s been through so much struggle with coming to terms with her identity and feelings and now she wants to get it all out.

“are you serious?” you ask without facing her. she chuckles at the redness at the tips of your ears.

“yeah. sorry for being a jerk. it was because i like you.”

“ning yizhuo— i… wait, let go of me for a minute. i wanna look at you.”

reluctantly, she does so.

you look so pretty under the kitchen light, yizhuo thinks.

“uhm, where do i even start?” you chuckle awkwardly, “i really thought you were into me when we first met and when you said you were straight… i think my heart died a little! but it’s okay, since you’ve been such a great friend to me. i must admit that yunjin did volunteer to be my plot device to make you jealous. i was hurt when you were being rude, so i’m happy you apologised. i like you too. a lot.”

yizhuo grins, heart beating wildly against her chest.

“can you say that again?”

“i like you a lot, yizhuo. can’t believe you called me a sister though.”

“i said i was sorry!”

r/relationships posted by

u/throwawaylizard 7 hours ago.

LAST UPDATE: my (22f) gay roommate’s (21f) dating life makes me feel weird. she’s one of my best friends but now i’m wondering if i could be homophobic.

hello! i’m glad to announce that this situation has finally been settled with a happy ending. i would like to give you guys a proper explanation and ending for all the help you provided.

first of all, yes, i’m not straight. or maybe i just like A. i haven’t explored that part yet but also, i’m in love with my roommate. i was jealous of all the girls she brought over and i wanted to be the one holding her and making her laugh.

second of all, you guys were right. she was using Y to make me jealous and it worked. so maybe she’s the real mastermind.

and lastly, we’re finally dating. we’ve been taking things slow for now since this is all new to me but A has been incredibly sweet and supportive (as she always is). it’s just a new experience but i’m willing to do anything as long as A is by my side.

thank you all for the help and comments!

it turns out i don’t have any problems with A kissing girls if it’s me she’s kissing.

⇧ 359 | ⇩ | 153 comments

#aespa #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #ning yizhuo x reader #ningning x reader #yizhuo x reader #ning yizhuo #ningning

574 notes · View notes

covetyou · 2 months ago

Text

sweet as cherry wine

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (power imbalance, reader was paying a debt), unprotected PIV, period sex, the joys of menstruation, fingering, derogatory names (slut), mentions of malnutrition/lack of food, positive weight gain, ghost of anal sex past and future, drug reference, asshole Joel, no use of y/n word count: 5.1k summary: a different kind of rude awakenin' than you were promised ruins your Sunday plans but, of course, you find yourself at the mercy of Joel Miller anyway.

A/N: she's here! another mini-kinktober SWAT series of oneshots for you to enjoy and for me to be horny about in theory, stressed about in practice. if you want spoilers, check out the SWAT masterlist for what's to come.

once again, please ignore the total and utter bastardisation and improper use of hozier lyrics. this one is particularly heinous but out of context I couldn't resist.

title from cherry wine by hozier

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

You felt more alive these days. Whether it was the bright, cool days, the extra food you could suddenly afford to eat, or the regular fucking you got from Joel, you couldn't tell, but the world felt lighter and, at the very least, your father's bad days didn't feel so difficult to manage.

It was easy to forget that these things couldn't last - the cloud was incoming whether you liked it or not, and whether it was a short shower or a downpour, you were going to get wet.

It was a fact that became painfully apparent the very morning you had an appointment with Joel.

It wasn't a strict appointment, more an offhand comment that you planned on cashing in on. When a man like Joel fucks you from behind and taunts you with threats of fucking your ass again and you think fuck yes so hard the words spew out of your mouth as you babble into the sheets, what else is a girl to do. And when he makes doubly sure you heard him by kneading your ass as you ready yourself to leave and whispers in your ear the filthy things he wants to do to you, and if you want them to happen you should come over Sunday afternoon, it's basically a done deal.

"If you thought that was an ass fuckin' before," he had said, "You're in for a rude fuckin' awakenin', sweetheart."

By god did you want that rude awakening.

But, staring into your underwear that Sunday morning, the distantly familiar gnawing ache in your abdomen suddenly had a name, and there your plans went, flushed down the drain right alongside the first signs you'd seen of your fucking period in years.

You remembered the pain, but it'd been long enough that you'd forgotten about the other discomforts periods could bring. The hunger, the aches, the tender nipples and the throb in your head. Not to mention, the last thing you wanted was Joel anywhere near any of your holes, asshole definitely included.

With your plans ruined and an ache that was rapidly spreading to your back, you didn't bother leaving the house that day, or sending word to Joel that you wouldn't be coming. Your rude awakenin' would have to wait, and your dad would have to stretch his pills for a few more days.

Three days in, you can't wait any longer. Or rather, your dad can't. You still feel rotten, and though the pain and bleeding have eased off a little, you just want the sit in your apartment and eat - the very luxury that got you in this mess in the first place.

But, you're here instead. In front of Joel's door, hands clasped at your sides, berating yourself - and your father - for even needing to be here, when Joel pulls open the door with a scowl.

"This look like Sunday to you?" he grouches, the furrow between his brows deepening as he looks you up and down.

You try to ignore it. Just like you've tried to ignore the gnawing ache in your belly all week. But, despite yourself, you can't speak, can't bring mention to Sunday and your own disappointment, and instead reach a hand deep into your jacket pocket and pull out the small number of cards you'd agreed would cover your dad's meds.

"Just here for a refill."

Joel rolls his eyes, and when he pushes away from the door frame, he beckons you inside, pushing the door shut behind you the second you scurry through after him.

"The fuck is wrong with you," he says, slamming an old worn container onto the table a second later. "And don't say nothin', I can tell you ain't right. Seen dead bodies with more life in 'em."

It hadn't occurred to you that he'd know. That he'd see right through you and know that you'd spent the days since Sunday feeling shitty as you curled into yourself. It hadn't occured to you for a second that you might look different - probably just as shit as you felt - and that Joel, a man who never seemed to be put off by anything, might be put off by this. By you.

"You sick?"

You hadn't even noticed he'd stopped rummaging, hands now on his hips as he stares at you with what you could almost mistake for concern. It pulls at you, somewhere deep inside, and you find a need to scramble for the words to reassure him, to tell him you'd be okay in the vaguest terms, that you'd be back to normal next week, if he still wants to go ahead with Sunday, because by fuck do you want to.

But instead, just one word comes out of your mouth in a sudden burst much louder than you intended.

"Period."

Joel blinks. Once. Then twice. As if trying to work something out, or maybe he's disgusted that you bleed, or maybe he's relieved you aren't pregnant at all and the little procedure to keep his swimmers at bay was still effective.

"Y'ain't had one o' them before," he starts. "I mean, since..."

You want to tell him that maybe you have. Maybe you hid it - didn't want him to know - but you both know you're a shit liar.

"Guess eating works wonders," you joke instead, not missing the frown that tugs his brows down, or the way his eyes scan back over your body to settle on the jacket that fits more snug than it ever has, or the thighs that now fill out your jeans.

The entire time, he doesn't make a single move to grab your father's pills. You want to scream at him to hurry up and give them to you - the longer you're standing here, the longer your cunt has to throb and clench at the mere thought of him. For the first time all week, you're not sure the wet feeling between your legs is blood.

"Got everything's you need?" he asks, his eyes briefly flicking down to your belly then back up.

You do. You tell him as much, now keenly aware of the feeling of the cup sat securely inside you as he stares holes through your head, searching for the lie, before giving up and shrugging when he doesn't find one.

He starts rummaging in the small container again, pulling out a half used packet and gesturing to you with it. "You hurtin'?"

You shake your head, turning down his offer of free prescription meds to ease your aches and pains. "Not so much any more."

Joel slowly takes a step towards you, and your pussy pulses again, gripping the cup lodged inside you and making you wish it was something else entirely.

"Still up for fuckin' if you are."

Nothing can keep the scoff of disbelief from bubbling out of your chest. Not two seconds ago you thought that maybe he'd be put off by you, if not by how you looked, then by the mess between your legs.

"No way are you fucking my ass, Joel," you say through a laugh.

He shrugs, before moving closer and pulling open your jacket. "Never said that. A fuckin' is a fuckin', don't matter which hole. Could have you comin' on this cock and leavin' feelin' better than you have in days, if you want it."

"You got a magic dick or something?" You laugh again, though smaller this time as Joel stares down at you through dark lashes.

"Think you know the answer to that better than I do," Joel says, running his tongue along his teeth. "Doubt you been rubbin' that pretty thing between your legs too much these last few days, huh?"

He's not wrong - making yourself come has been the last thing in your mind lately. You spent most of your time Sunday scrambling to find your menstrual cup and learning how to use it all over again so you weren't free bleeding all over the place. Since then your days had been filled with torturously slow work days and hiding away in your room with a pillow cluched firmly to your stomach.

"Didn't think so."

In a blink, he's gone, moving away from you so quickly your head spins. He's pressing the lid firmly back onto the container, the loud clicking echoing around his apartment as he readies it to be stashed away. You look away as he turns from you - not wanting to see if it's hidden in the usual drawer or elsewhere in his home - and turn just in time for a threadbare towel to be thrown your way. It's worn, and stained, but soft and clean in your hands.

"Go get yourself cleaned up."

You gape at him. Mostly in disbelief that he would want to touch you at all right now, but a small part of you stares at his form - broad and strong - wanting desperately to leap on him right here with no mind paid to the thing currently lodged in your cunt, feral with the knowledge that he actually wants you.

"But what about the mess," you say feebly instead, grinding your knuckles into that soft part just below the pooch of your belly as a sudden ache - no doubt brought on by the fluttering in your cunt - takes hold of your womb.

He laughs then, low and throaty, before making his way back to you and gripping your chin between thumb and forefinger.

"Good job I like it when you're a mess for me, sweetheart."

You're gone in a flash - his deep chuckle the only thing you hear as you rush to the bathroom and close the door, stripping down as quickly as you can before hopping into his shower. The water is deliciously warm as it pelts your skin, a forgotten luxury that you wish you'd had two days ago at the worst of your aches. Still, you relish in it, and find yourself tentatively stepping out of the steamy room with the tattered towel wrapped around you and your cup cleaned and discarded on his bathroom sink far sooner than you'd like.

There's a soft yellow light beckoning you into Joel's bedroom as you pad your way across his floor. He's there, just beyond the doorway, laying another towel across faded sheets. His jeans are off and his sweater discarded, his bare, muscular legs flexing with each movement in the golden light as he puts together the space you're about to fall apart in.

"You gonna keep starin'," he says with a final flourish of the towel before giving it a gentle pat with his hand. "Or you gonna sit your ass down before you drip on my floor."

Rolling your eyes, you walk to the bed, Joel barely giving you space to maneouver by him, before doing as your told and sitting your ass down. There's already a soft lump forming in the front of his boxers when you cast your eyes up to him.

"Show me," he says, dragging a finger across your hand where you grip the towel to yourself, and in an instant it drops away from your body, falling into your lap and exposing your chest to him.

"Y'know, I thought they'd got bigger," he says, letting his finger trace from your hand to your palm and down to the soft swelling of your chest. "Bouncin' in my fuckin' face more than usual lately."

His broad hand encases your breast, gently holding but not squeezing as his fingertips caress your soft flesh. His thumb drags gently across your nipple, the sensitive bud of it tightening and sending a zing straight down through to your core. It should hardly come as a surprise to you - the soft fabric of your own t-shirts had been borderline painful in the days leading up to your unpleasant surprise. Still, it makes you gasp, a thing that Joel notices with a cocked eyebrow.

"Ass too," he continues, hands stroking softly at your tender nipple before crouching before you on creaking knees. "I'd fuck it any chance I'd get, but somethin' about it lately..."

Resting back on your palms, you look down at him beyond the swell of your breasts. He's gazing at them, watching as they heave with each breath you take. For good measure, you take in a deep sigh just to watch his eyes darken as they rise and fall right in front of his face.

"Show me," he says again, with a nod and, while his eyes never leave your tits as they sway in front of him, you know what he really means.

Part of you wants to clamp your legs together and hide from him. You want to ask him why - why ever, but mostly why now, when you're like this. But you don't.

Instead, you pull the towel away and let it fall from your thighs. For a second, you wonder if Joel has even noticed. He still seems entranced by the way your tits move. That, or he's somehow being polite - a weird thing to even consider given how very naked and very close to him you are right now.

Then, he flicks his eyes between your legs for a fraction of a second, before standing and pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth movement. The tent in his boxers is even more pronounced now, the trail of hair that slips beneath the waistband drawing your eye easily to the swelling bulge hidden beyond the fabric.

"Eyes up here, sweetheart," Joel says. "Think you can take it?"

He's stroking himself over the fabric now, you can see it in your periphery. His broad hand gently squeezing and rubbing the very thing you wish was in you.

Words lost, you nod. Then, his knee descends to one side of you, calloused hands pushing at your shoulders, and you're falling softly backward until you collide with the mattress, and the worn towel covering it.

The mattress gives way to your weight, dipping softly where you lay. Joel's over you, his massive frame cast in golden light from the lamp as he touches you more gently than you think he ever has. Your nipples pucker, his hands not even close to them as you arch into the touch of his rough palm across your side, your belly, your hip.

And then, he's dipping his fingers between your legs, not caring of the mess that might be there, and drags slick fingers through your folds until you're panting and writhing underneath him, legs spreading and hips rocking your pussy into his hand with each swipe of his wet fingers over your clit. You didn't notice how sensitive you were. The last few days you'd tried your hardest to ignore any sensation coming from your cunt that wasn't an alarming feeling of warm and wet. Now, while you were definitely warm and wet, you were practically electrified too, blood humming with need as Joel gently stroked at your pussy until you were begging him to make you come.

"I'm gonna, sweetheart," he growls. "Gonna make this needy pussy come all over my cock. Make a mess o' me."

You feel yourself flutter as his finger pushes lightly into your waiting hole. You're dripping, no telling really with what at this point, but you don't have it in you to care. He can have the mess he so desperately wants, as long as he makes you come and leaves you panting and bone tired right here on the mattress.

His face burrows into your neck, shrouding you in him while he sucks kisses down and onto your shoulder.

"Joel..." you moan, arching into him again when his finger plunges deep, gently curling forward while his palm grinds against your clit. You could make yourself come on him if he just kept like this. Except, you don't want to. You don't want to do the work. You want to lie here and take it, have him split you open on his cock and work you apart until you crumble underneath him.

He works another into you, shallow thrusts of the digits working you up and sliding easily through you. His thumb finds your clit, swiping messily over it until you twitch and grip his arm, forcing his palm flat against you so you can grind and grind against him. But he stills - the soft kisses he was peppering with you having reached the jiggle of your tits - and looks aup at you with a quirk to his brow.

"Beg me for it," he whispers, pulling his sopping fingers out of you and wiping them on the towel between your legs. "Not gonna fuck you until you do."

Your desperation cuts through the anger that flares in your belly. You were close when he pulled away, his hand now simply teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh. You were so close your cunt was throbbing, sending small aches up through you. Whether they were from him, and the relief he so quickly took from you, or the making of your own body, you couldn't even tell, but you had a sneaking suspicion they were working together to fuck you over. They always did.

"Fuck me, Joel. Please."

Joel is already settling between your thighs, boxers yanked down his legs and cock springing free, by the time you even finish asking. He presses forward, letting his cock slip against you as his mouth hungrily finds your nipple, sucking and making you gasp. A sudden sob wrestles its way out of your chest while he grinds against you, your clit twitching against the slip and slide of his length, your hands finding his arms to steady you. He's solid, and steady above you, while you quake and writhe beneath him - always the picture of fucking composure, even with his cock heavy and dripping between your legs.

He rears back then, completely naked before you, the shadow between his legs ignored as you make a point to stare up at him, his own eyes favoring the mess between your legs rather than your face. His fingers find your thighs again, spreading them, holding them, before lining himself up with your entrance.

As he presses his tip into you, there's something glaringly obvious, and different, that you notice.

He's being gentle with you. Sort of.

And you're not entirely sure you like it. A very big part of you wants him to say fuck it and pound into you, fucking the pain out of your mind to leave you moaning and boneless and far too messy to comprehend. Unfortunately, you're definitely sure that'd hurt much more than it'd actually be enjoyable, and you hate that Joel and his animal brain have understood that before you and yours.

He catches your frown before you do, and rolls his eyes at you with a gentle squeeze to your thighs. His cock is still slipping gently in and out of you, just pushing in past the head, careful not to go too deep too quickly as he spreads you apart to take him.

"I ain't a fuckin' animal. I know when a pussy's gotta be treated sweet and nice and when it needs to be fucked hard."

You really do try not to pout, but the slow drag of him suddenly doesn't feel like enough and it's all you can do not to cross your arms and glare at him. "What if I don't want sweet and nice?"

"Yeah, you do," he whispers, so sure of himself you want to fucking slap him. If his hands weren't so distracting as they slide up and down your thighs, gently massaging away any ache in tandem with his cock in your cunt, you probably would reach up and give a smack to that beautiful fucking face of his. "And even if you think you don't, she does, and, unlucky for you, I ain't listenin' to you right now."

The moment he starts talking about your cunt, his brings his thumb down to gently tease along your lips where he splits you open, drawing a slick combination of your own blood and arousal up to your clit where he swirls it around.

And, traitorous bitch that she is, your pussy throbs in approval, as if to say yes, yes we want sweet and nice, and you know you've lost the battle. Where Joel was concerned, you were a slave to your pussy - it wasn't even a point worth contending at this point, and you're not sure you ever would've fought to hard against it anyway.

So, you nod, slipping your eyes closed as he fucks himself deeper and deeper into you. In an odd way it does feel like a massage - the stiff length of him pushing in past the tense grip of your cunt until you're putty right there on the bed, a leaking, dripping, groaning mess, all of Joel Miller's making. He never bottoms out. Never once hammers home. Never once takes your soft pleas and moans as direction to go faster, harder, even though part of you still wants him to.

You just lie there, soft and pliant against the sheets, taking the steady slip of him in your needy hole until your brain turns to soup in your head.

"Kiss me," you mumble through another moan when his hands drag up your body to swip rough fingers over your nipples again. "Joel, kiss me."

Your legs push back as he falls forward, the sudden movement pushing him deeper and making you gasp. He stops for a moment, searching your eyes as they fly open, pupils blown in the lowlight of his bedroom. He rocks tentatively, at first, before beginning the slow slide in and out of you all over again, until your head thuds back against the mattress.

You'd thought he'd undone you before. Right in this room. You'd thought his fist in you had ruined you, his cock in your ass, his hand in your hair. So many things before now should have torn you apart, but none of that had prepared you for this. The soft, sweet, dirty way Joel Miller fucked all the aches and pains out of you right on his tired mattress.

Through it all, you almost forget you'd asked him to kiss you until his mouth finds yours, and you excitedly accept the pressure of his lips. You'd be embarrassed by it, and by the giddiness in your head as he nips and sucks at your mouth, if you hadn't long lost that feeling around him.

"Forget how much of a slut for kisses you are," he mumbles when he pulls away. "Slut for everythin'."

A weak protest forms in your throat, but his hips jerk forward and silence you with a moan instead.

"No denyin' it. Ain't met many who wanna be split open on this dick when they're on the rag," he's grinning into your shoulder as he taunts you, biting and sucking soft bruises you'll worry about later you as he grinds deeper in you now. "Startin' to think you're some kind of masochist."

You can feel his smile against your skin - a sign he already knows by now that that's more than true. Even so, like most things with Joel, this wasn't something you'd even considered before, let alone considered you might enjoy, until he did it. There's an ache as he stretches you, sure. And an ache in your belly too. And, somehow, one is soothing the other, the grip you have around his cock distracting you from any other feeling in your body as he slides through the mess between the two of you, bringing you close to a euphoria that feels deeper in your belly than it ever has.

He notices the change before you do. Your soft, contented moans turn into deep yearning cries as he grinds his cock deep, heavy balls sitting wetly against your ass as your slicked up hole seems to draw him in further and further. His fingers push between you, the slip of sweat, and blood, and your own slick easing his digits between your bodies until he finds your clit again.

With a soft movement, he jerks it between two fingers, watching and listening as you whine pathetically, eyes pressed so tight you see stars. A quick slip lower, feeling the sticky slip of you around his cock that has the telltale feel of your arousal and not blood, he moves back up and begins swiping his finger over your swollen clit in earnest.

Your clit twitches and pulses beneath his finger, your cunt fluttering around his solid length as it slowly presses into you, barely moving, just watching as you become exactly the kind of mess you feel.

It aches, and it hurts, and it feels so fucking good that you sob out a cry, a moan, a garbled plea, all at once as you come, shaking into the deep arch of your back as he fucks slowly and slowly and slowly, his fingers sliping endlessly against your clit, jerking the nub until you can do nothing but let out a deep, breathy, scream.

"That's it," he groans, his own cock throbbing in you as you pulsate around him. "Messy fuckin' girl. Come on it. Come all over it."

"Please," you gasp stupidly, not knowing what you're begging for, the height of your orgasm coming crashing down as it suddenly all feels too much. "Please."

While you don't know what you're begging for, it seems like Joel does. One moment his hand is between you, and the next it's rubbing against the towel before gripping gently at your shoulder, holding you steadily underneath him as you shudder and gasp.

And then, like reading your deepest wishes straight from your mind, he starts rocking in shallow thrusts - unsatisfying on their own, but paired with the filth from his mouth, it sends you close to the edge all over again.

"There we go," he moans in your ear, breathy and desperate as you. "S'all you needed."

You're starting to think Joel Miller's cock maybe is all you need - for some people it's love, or riches, but for you, at least in this moment, the heavy length impaling you and curing all your ailments is all you need. For now, at least.

He's wrecking himself with it all too, you notice. The way the pressure of his hands on your body increases and releases over and over as he fights with himself to be gentle as he fucks you to his own release isn't helped by the way his mind is racing, his mouth barely keeping up with whatever filth is rattling around in his mind.

"Gonna take it. Gonna dump my load right in this messy fuckin' hole. Y'gonna be fillin' up that fuckin' cup with my cum after this. Gonna be spillin' outta you. Needy - fuckin' - slut."

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes," you babble, holding onto his arms through his gentle thrusts, your cunt threatening an orgasm even as a new ache settles back into your core.

"Like bein' a slut for me?" he gasps. "Like bein' mine?"

"Yeah. Yours. Please, Joel. Fuck."

"Tell me. Tell me s'mine."

"It's yours. Your hole. I'm your needy - fuck - hole!"

"Damn fuckin' right you're my needy fuck hole. Fuck. Shit. You want this?"

And god you do. You want more besides, but right now you'll take it, on the brink of coming as the rough thatch of hair at the base of his cock grinds relentlessly into your clit.

"Said, do you want this."

His shallow thrusts speed up, and you just about have time to gasp out a yes before you're twitching and coming hard around his cock again. He follows soon behind, gasped curses bitten into your shoulder as your hands slip against his sweat soaked sides, filling your cunt with thick ropes of cum, thanking him in mindless chants as you feel each pulse of his cock fill you more and more.

You're limp and just about as lifeless as he said you looked when he first opened the door. You don't care. You feel more relaxed than you have all week, the pain completely gone as a warm floaty feeling courses through your veins.

Joel pulls out, asking if you're all good and accepting the wobble of your head as a yes, before wiping his cock with the towel and using it to gently wipe at your thighs.

There's not as much mess as you expected, as you look down. You expected carnage - a bloodbath - but there's nothing more than a soft streak of red on the towel when he pulls it away and tosses it into the corner.

He flops heavily next to you, pulling part of the towel you're laying on over your body in a vague attempt to keep you warm as you both come down. The chill in the room had been kept at bay until now, mostly thanks to Joel's body heating yours from the inside out. Now, sweat dries on both of your bodies, and you find yourself shifting closer to his warmth to stave off the cold.

"Y'think these gonna be a regular thing now?" he asks as he tugs part of his bedsheet over himself.

You shrug, offering up your uncertainty. It had been years since your last - your fathers declining health and your subsequent lack of good meals had seen to that. There was no telling if there'd be any regularity to them and, if you were being honest, you didn't want to see one again for a very long time.

He's silent for a second, thoughtful features pinching in the warm light of his bedroom before he speaks again.

"Alright. How 'bout I give you that ass fuckin' in a couple weeks, then?"

It's not exactly what you expected. You'd almost forgotten about it yourself. But, now, as he pins a new date for your promised rude awakenin' you find yourself ready to pout again, this time at the idea of having to wait two more weeks.

"Two weeks? I'll probably be finished with this by the end of the week. I can come over Sunday, or in the week or -"

"I know," he says simply. "Like the idea of you bein' like a bitch in heat and me fuckin' a load into your ass when your cunt is so desperate for it, though."

Anything you were going to say is totally lost in an instant, your jaw flapping on its hinges as you try and fail to find the words that were just on the tip of your tongue. Any protest, question, or suggestion, is gone and, you realize, replaced with one thing, and one thing only.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

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d1xonss · 2 months ago

Text

Practice Makes Perfect

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 11

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : ⚠️ Smut (18+)

✧ Word Count : 8.9k

AN ~ Okay, so this was originally a request sent in by annon, but when I first uploaded it, I wasn't completely happy with the turnout. It felt a bit rushed and there were some things I wanted to change so I figured I would reupload and try again. So in other words, if you've already seen me post this once, no you didn't:) Hope you enjoy! xoxo

ps- Daryl's a sub in this so if you're into that, this is definitely for you;)

Daryl stood slumped over at the kitchen counter in the shitty apartment he now called home, the space oddly silent as the kids were off with Carol for the day. But the quiet was nice, it gave him time to think, time to let his mind wander as he slowly woke for the day. The smell of coffee hit his nose as it brewed softly from behind him, the light streaming in through the opened windows to let in the fresh breeze.

Though his gaze remained downcast at the piece of paper that sat in front of him, his eyes rereading the words over and over again to the point where he had it memorized. The neat cursive of your handwriting, the small errors in your spelling, and especially the little heart you placed at the bottom where your name was signed. You had left it the first time you came over, and even though you didn’t have a clue in the world, he had kept it ever since. Mostly because he didn’t have the heart to throw it away. Though there might’ve been another small part of him that held onto it because it was something you wrote out for him, and him only.

He reminisced about how stressed he was that day, having just moved into the Commonwealth with two of his kids, trying to figure out the new community and routine they would have to grow accustomed to. It was all very surreal having to go back to a “normal” kind of life, Judith already asking for allowance before he even had his first day of work made his head spin. But then with just a soft knock on the door, came a sight that he never expected to see.

You stood there on the other side, all pretty and perfect, wearing a smile on your face and holding out a container of cookies as some kind of welcome. You explained that you lived just down the hall and heard about the new arrivals, wanting to do something special as you expressed your understanding for how weird it must’ve felt for him. And after offering your baked goods and assistance to whatever they might need, all Daryl could do was nod his head as he stared at you dumbly. He wasn’t trying to be rude, in fact he appreciated your words more than anything in that moment. However, he couldn’t help but ogle you as if you walked straight out of a Disney movie or something.

And it was safe to say those feelings never exactly went away. In fact every time he saw you they only seemed to worsen.

The kids however were even more hooked with you than he was, your cookies really winning them over in the beginning as they finished them within a day and a half. “Marry her.” was the first thing Judith told him after tasting the delicious treat, and he couldn’t deny he was amused. Though he obviously wasn’t looking to date or marry anyone ever, the idea of eating whatever you baked for the years to come...it tempted him a bit.

But the reality of it all was that he didn’t want to ruin his blossoming friendship with you, it was far too precious for him to ever risk. That, and he had absolutely no experience with relationships whatsoever. He had kissed a girl once when he was about fifteen, but other than that, he hadn't been with anyone in his entire life. Never even showed interest in any woman that attempted to flirt or touch him as he simply didn’t ever feel the need to want that. He always preferred to be on his own, that’s just the way that it was.

But now as he stood there, reading over your note you left on top of the container of cookies all those months ago, he knew he was in way over his head with someone like you.

Just then the front door suddenly opened up, the sound causing him to jump a bit as your familiar voice called out, “It’s me!”

It had become a common occurrence for you to just walk into each other's homes without knocking, and though Daryl didn’t mind, now was clearly not the time. He scrambled to open up a random drawer, tossing the note inside before slamming it shut again, “Kitchen.” he called back with a huff.

He saw your head peek around the corner a few seconds later, smiling as you adjusted the strap of your purse, “Hey, you busy?”

“Nah,” he said as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, “Just…makin some coffee.” he gestured, offering you a thin lipped smile.

You nodded, “Where are the kids?” you asked, sitting yourself down at one of the stools across from him, “I found some things I think they’ll like, I figured I’d stop by and drop them off.”

“They’re out with Carol, she offered to take ‘em for a couple hours.”

“Oh.” you nodded again as you watched him turn around to pour himself a cup of coffee, “Well, that’s nice…you deserve some peace in the mornings every once and a while. I can just leave them here.” you suggested as you took the two little boxes out of your bag, placing them down on the counter.

He hummed a response before retrieving some milk and sugar to pour a decent amount into the mug, making you question everything as he was always adamant on having his coffee black. The way God intended or something. But then your expression softened a bit seeing him setting it down in front of you instead, making it the way he knew you loved.

“Oh, I don’t need any-” you tried to protest.

“It’s just coffee,” he said as if it were no big deal, “No roofies or anything, I swear.”

You snorted at his shitty joke, like you always did, raising the cup to your lips as you muttered, “Smartass.” just loud enough for him to hear.

He smirked a little at your response, pouring himself a cup of the steaming hot beverage as the two of you enjoyed it in the nice comfortable silence. His eyes never strayed away from you for very long however, almost as if he was casually taking in your appearance without you noticing too much. You always dressed up pretty, your hair styled to perfection, wearing some kind of boot or high heel, and paired with some fancy outfit that was far too much for the apocalypse. But Daryl never minded. In fact, he found it endearing.

Though he couldn’t help but let his mind wander a bit, noticing that it had been quite a long time since he had seen you. Usually the two of you would get together a few times a week simply because you had grown to love each other’s company. But recently you had been busy with other things, with other people. Perhaps that’s why he found himself staring at your note this morning, subconsciously missing you without even realizing it.

“You avoiding me or somethin?” he then broke the silence, his question lighthearted but a part of him was a little serious. His insecurities tending to get in the way of things.

Your brows furrowed a little, “What?”

He shrugged a bit, “Just noticed you’ve been busy lately…haven’t seen ya in a while. Miss ya.”

You gave him a sad smile, “Believe me, I’m not doing it on purpose, work has just been insane. We recruited a few new people who don’t know what the hell they’re doing, training them has been a disaster, and…” you trailed off as you looked at him, noticing the small smile he wore when watching you ramble on and on. “...I miss you too.”

“Then stay for a while.” he said, his voice soft, seeing if he could keep you a few extra minutes before you would ultimately have to go to work.

You sat up a bit straighter at the invitation, “Yeah? You want me to?”

“Course.” he reassured, though his statement made him feel a bit uneasy, roughly clearing his throat to slightly divert the topic, “Just…don’t get too comfortable cause you ain’t movin in.”

He heard you laugh softly, the sound being almost too perfect to be real, “Don’t worry, I know you like your little bachelor pad going on here.” you gestured.

He scoffed, “Yeah, when the kids ain’t hoggin it.”

You hummed before a slow knowing smile was brought to your face, gently setting down your mug, “You know, speaking of…I talked to Carol recently. She told me some pretty interesting things.”

He raised an eyebrow, whether it was one of concern or curiosity, you couldn’t tell, “Oh yeah? Bout what?”

“You. And…Connie.” you hinted.

A look of surprise crossed his face, “What bout Connie?”

You shrugged innocently, “She seems to think you have a little thing for her.” you said, taking another sip of your coffee as you looked around, “Maybe this won’t be a bachelor pad for long.” you winked.

Daryl was left baffled. Why Carol would think he had a thing for Connie, he had no idea. But she had gotten it completely wrong, and now the girl he had been pinning over was under the same impression from the misinformation. But he couldn’t necessarily correct you, not without you questioning why. This conversation couldn’t have been going any worse, and all because he just wanted you to stay for a damn cup of coffee.

He couldn’t help but chuckle nervously, running a hand through his slightly messy hair, “You and yer wishful thinkin, girl.” he tried to brush off.

You tilted your head a bit at his dismissive tone, “I just want you to be happy.”

The sincerity in your voice made his heart flutter in an unimaginable way, finding he couldn’t stop the smile that spread onto his face. This is exactly why he liked you, your heart was far too big for your own good. “Yer pretty sweet, ya know that?”

“I’m just being honest,” you spoke softly, “If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”

He scoffed lightly in response, “Well, I appreciate that…but I don't think that's somethin I want...it ain’t really that simple for me. I can’t just…do that with Connie. Or any woman really. I ain’t good at that kinda stuff, I dunno what the hell m’ doin. I never even-”

A lump formed in his throat as he suddenly cut off the last part of his sentence, feeling his face get hot with embarrassment at what almost dared to slip out. He hadn’t meant to say that much, he never wanted to admit this kind of stuff to anyone let alone the woman he was enamored by. But now he had gone too far, he became far too open and honest about his inexperience, and now all he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die.

Apparently, the conversation could get worse.

Though whether it was because of your innocence or the fact that it was early in the morning, you weren’t picking up what he was putting down as your face morphed into confusion instead. “Never even…what?”

Oh for the love of God.

Daryl cleared his throat awkwardly as he ran a hand over his face, the redness spreading down his neck as he debated on whether or not to tell you. It was mortifying, the fact that he had gone fifty whole years without touching a woman was absolutely the last thing he wanted you to know. Yet at the same time, he trusted you. He trusted you wouldn’t laugh or make fun of him for the matter. And anyway, he felt it was a little too late to back out now given the intrigued look on your face.

“Never had…y’know…” he trailed off with a gesture of his hand, hoping he wouldn’t have to actually say it out loud.

A beat of silence passed before your eyes widened a little as you connected the dots. Though you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. No way this man was a virgin.

“Shut up.”

Daryl felt his cheeks burn brighter at your disbelief, “M’ serious…I ain’t ever…done that before.”

“You’ve never had sex?” you asked as if to make sure you were truly on the same page.

He blinked, “No.”

You slumped back in your seat with a breath, “Wow…” you muttered, watching as he grew more uncomfortable by the second. Though you weren’t trying to make him uneasy by admitting such a thing, it just genuinely surprised you that he had gone this far in his life without sleeping with someone. I mean…he was attractive, kind, somewhat of a smartass. It was hard to believe no one had fallen for that sort of thing, causing you to wonder just how much he had missed out on.

You nodded to yourself, “We gotta get you laid or something.”

His eyes widened in absolute horror, clearly not expecting that response from you, “No, no that’s- what?” he exclaimed in disgust, “You ain’t gettin me laid.”

“Why not?” you asked in mild disappointment.

He set his mug down on the counter with a soft slam as he grunted in slight frustration, “Christ (Y/N), cause it ain’t that easy. I don’t just wanna screw around with someone, that ain’t me. I would have to have…feelings for that person to get that far, y’know?” he asked, silently pleading with you to understand.

His outlook made you slowly realize that Daryl wasn’t like any other guy you’d ever met. Well, you always knew that, but hearing his genuine words seemed to make you falter for a moment as you just simply stared at him. Any other guy would absolutely dive head first for the opportunity to have a random and meaningless hookup, something to make them feel good before forgetting about the other person as a whole. Using them to just get what they wanted.

But Daryl…was the complete opposite; probably the biggest sweetheart the world had ever seen. You knew he would want to love and cherish that person he would share such an intimate moment with, treating them with the most respect and consideration. He would probably take it as slow as possible, not only to prolong the intimacy, but to make sure they were truly comfortable. You imagined him to be gentle and kind, even after the deed was done, he would continue to take care of them, offering to get them anything their heart desired.

Thinking about all of this caused an unexpected flutter in your stomach, one that you didn’t expect. But you couldn’t deny it was there.

You blinked a few times to snap yourself out of it, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I know that…I honestly wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” you smiled softly.

His shoulders relaxed a bit upon hearing your response, nodding in appreciation as he assumed the topic of conversation would end here, hoping to get out of this humiliating misery. But before he could speak, your gentle voice cut off his words.

“Is there someone you have feelings for?"

His eyes widened a little at the unexpected question, "...Huh?"

"Is there someone you’d want to, you know…experience that with?” you clarified.

He paused again, swallowing nervously as there was a certain heaviness to that question he couldn’t place. Of course there was. The way he felt about you was unlike anything else he had ever experienced before. In the beginning he denied it relentlessly, because he simply couldn’t accept the fact that he had managed to open up his heart to someone so special. But there was no denying it anymore, at least to himself. Though you on the other hand, could never know the truth.

“Nah.” he said simply.

You nodded slowly in understanding, quietly tapping your fingers on the counter as if you were trying to figure out what to say. “Well…if there comes a time where there is someone, and you need some advice…I’m always around.” you assured.

He nodded slowly, “Alright...” he said in appreciation, trying to mask how he was really feeling, his heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest at the thought of you seeing through him.

“Dropping the topic now.” you said as you raised your hands in surrender.

He chuckled gruffly, “Thanks.”

You smiled up at him, before catching a glimpse of the time blinking on the oven, “Oh shoot, I should go. I have to head into the infirmary in like fifteen minutes.” you said as you quickly drank one last mouthful of coffee.

Daryl tried his best not to let his disappointment show, nodding once more as his eyes followed you when you moved around to place your empty mug in the sink. Though the disappointment seemed to diminish when you turned around to give him a hug, your arms going around his shoulders as you gave him a soft squeeze. He found himself smiling at your familiar gesture, patting your back before he pulled away first, his hand lingering on your arm.

“Stay outta trouble, alright?” he mumbled.

“Always.” you promised in return.

An entire week had passed since that little talk the two of you had in his home, and it was safe to say that it had been plaguing Daryl’s mind ever since. He couldn’t recall the last time he was so open with someone, not being able to tell for certain if he regretted it or not. Though he couldn’t deny that your support and understanding wasn’t something to take for granted. But the longer he thought about the interaction, the more he wished he’d told you the truth.

Maybe he should’ve laid it all out there, but then again he had a lot to lose. Having no idea how you would react to his confession, he could potentially scare you off, and that was something he didn’t know if he should risk. He became a mess of emotions as he pondered endlessly over the things that clouded his thoughts. Although he couldn’t deny that he was slowly starting to find the idea of sex more and more appealing the longer he thought about it. Maybe having a little experience wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. But that also meant having to ask you for that experience, and he knew he would rather die than put himself out there like that.

Though as the days dragged on and he grew more restless, he physically couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it. This was way out of his comfort zone, he knew that, but he felt like he was going crazy at this point. At least if you said no then he could just move on and not absolutely spiral about the constant “what ifs.” So, with that in mind, he smoked an entire joint by himself in order to calm his nerves before gathering what little confidence he had left, and headed down to the infirmary where he knew you’d be at this hour. He couldn’t let himself think about the decision too much otherwise he knew he would surely chicken out.

The door opened with a soft creak as he stepped inside, scanning the area for you. He disregarded the people sitting in the waiting area, clearly anticipating when their name would be called, opting out to peer around the corner to try and see if he could spot you. And sure enough he managed to catch a glimpse of your frame in the back, stocking up a nearby medicine cabinet as you organized a few pill bottles. You were wearing that little white doctors coat that he knew you hated, thinking it ruined your outfits. But he always found it quite attractive.

He awkwardly stood there for a moment as if debating whether or not to go back there, knowing he didn’t exactly have permission. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, letting out a small whistle in hopes to get you to look at him. It was a quiet, soft sound, but it caught your attention nonetheless, glancing over your shoulder to see him standing there lingering in the waiting room. He smiled a bit, gesturing with a hand as if asking if he could walk over to talk to you, to which you nodded almost immediately, waving him back.

Daryl let out a breath once you beckoned him to come over, silently slipping past everyone else to join you in your more secluded spot, “Hey.” he breathed.

You smiled, “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

Once you said that, it hit him. What was he doing here? He showed up to where you worked of all places to have this private discussion, not even considering the option to invite you over sometime to talk like adults. Maybe he underestimated how high he really was.

“Just uh…just wanted to see ya.” he said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he figured there was no backing out now, “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Oh, um…” you trailed off as you looked around, making sure no one needed your assistance, “You might have to make it quick.”

He nodded in understanding, “Right, course…I promise it won’t take long.”

Your brows furrowed a little in concern, “What’s going on?”

He cleared his throat nervously, gripping the material of his jeans as he felt his palms begin to sweat, “You know, uh…you remember that morning you came over a few days ago? When we was talkin in the kitchen?”

“Mhm.” you nodded.

He swallowed thickly as his heart was beating concerningly fast, trying to force himself to just say it, “Well, I been thinkin…bout what you said and…all that,” he gestured with his hand, “Bout gettin some real experience.”

Your eyebrows raised a little, “Really? You changed your mind?”

“Yeah, I did,” he grunted, “I think it could help, y’know…get outta my comfort zone and whatnot. See what all the fuss is bout.” he joked dryly, purposefully dancing around the subject.

You smiled a bit in surprise that he was willing to take that step, knowing normally he wasn’t one for change or trying new things. But maybe this time he was really ready to put himself out there, and you couldn’t lie, you were happy for him. Though the more you thought about it, the more you became a bit discouraged at the thought of him with another woman. You didn’t know where it came from, this pang of jealousy, but you knew you couldn’t say anything. After all, you were his friend, and he clearly came here in search of the support you always provided.

So, you managed to push your lingering thoughts aside, smiling genuinely as you gave his arm a small nudge, “Well, I think that’s great.”

He hummed as he nodded his head, trying to force himself to just stop being a coward and ask, “But I also had…somethin to ask ya.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Oh? About advice?”

“Nah…not exactly,” he mumbled as he let out a heavy sigh, “I was just wonderin…if you’d…” he trailed off again as he took another moment to look at you. He knew there was no going back after he said this, questioning last minute if it was really worth it. But seeing that gleam in your eyes and the sweetness of your smile, the words just seemed to stumble out without his permission.

“If you’d be the one to give me some experience.” he said quietly, his tall frame leaning down a bit to mutter it quietly for your ears only.

Your stomach plummeted when you heard his quiet request, feeling as if the wind was knocked out of you as that was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth. The way his tone dropped when he asked, the fact that he took a small step closer to tower over you more than he normally was. It was all doing something to do. The tension between you was there, thick enough to cut with a knife as you stared at him practically gaping like a fish, not knowing what to say.

On one hand, you were flattered, and a little turned on by the fact that he wanted you specifically to give him the experience he craved. But another part of you felt hesitant, as if you weren’t one hundred percent sure he knew what he was asking of you. You wanted him to get out there, escape his comfort zone, but you didn’t want him to do it just because you simply suggested it.

Though just as he was growing a bit worried at your silence, you finally spoke, “...Me? You…you want it to be me?” you whispered.

He let out a soft breath, “Well…yeah. I...I really like ya, and...I trust ya.” he admitted, gazing down at you with a certain gentleness in his eyes, “But you know…you don’t gotta if you dont want to. I ain't gonna pressure you or anythin, I just thought I'd...” he trailed off, realizing he was talking far too much.

But you didn’t feel pressured, quite the opposite really. You honestly just couldn’t believe this was actually happening, it was a lot to process, and you hardly knew what to say. Time seemed to be moving incredibly fast and slow at the same time as you stood there, staring at each other with a newfound feeling.

Though just as you were about to open your mouth to speak again, someone popped around the corner and called your name, clearly needing some help. Daryl silently cursed at the interruption, though it was to be expected. He was coming to the conclusion that this was probably the worst time to be having this discussion.

“Sounds like they need ya...” he said softly.

You tilted your head as you didn’t want to go, your expression turning sympathetic, “I’m sorry.” you whispered.

Daryl shrugged it off, “It’s alright.” he said, hesitating for a moment, before reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. Your eyes widened a little at the gesture, the comfort of his touch, feeling yourself almost leaning into his hand before he took it away too quickly.

“I’ll um…I’ll see ya around, okay?” he said with a nod before turning to head out, not even giving you a chance to respond.

You were a little shocked at his sudden rush to get away, but at the same time you understood. He must’ve been incredibly embarrassed and ashamed, especially since you hadn’t given him an answer. A part of you wanted to call him back, but you knew better than to do that, knowing he was already too far gone to hear you anyways.

Daryl couldn’t even begin to describe his regret as he walked back home, the distance between his apartment and the infirmary giving him way too much time to think. You didn’t seem completely disgusted, but clearly you weren’t a huge fan of the idea given the look on your face. He knew this was a bad plan from the get go, but he still somehow convinced himself to do it, now wishing he had never opened up his mouth at all. He felt a certain grief wash over him as he could imagine he had ruined whatever relationship he had with you, needing to learn to let it go.

The remainder of the day passed by in a flash, ending with him taking a long, hot shower in an attempt to ease the tension in his muscles and the thoughts circling his mind. The water sprayed down on him like an element of lava given the harsh temperature, his fingers running through his wettened hair as he rinsed out the soap and bubbles. Perhaps the longer he spent under the running faucet, the more it would make him forget about the embarrassing events of the day. It caused him to wonder what you were thinking at this moment in time, but then again a part of him didn’t want to know.

“Daryl?”

His eyes widened in surprise when he heard the sound of your voice, momentarily considering it to be just his imagination, but the sound of the front door closing with a familiar slam convinced him otherwise. What the hell were you doing here? And with the worst timing in the world.

“Y-Yeah? I’m in the shower.” he called out without thinking, the door being opened a crack and just enough to where he hoped you could hear him.

You fidgeted nervously near the front entrance, hearing his slightly muffled words made you rethink your decision to come over, seeing it clearly wasn’t the best time. “Oh, okay...should I um…should I come back later?”

“No, no,” he quickly called out again, “Just…just gimmie a sec.” he said as he frantically finished up before you had the chance to leave.

With his reassurance in mind, you stayed put as you waited for him, briefly hearing the water shut off after only a few seconds. Your thoughts ran wild as you pondered over the things you wanted to say, having not been able to take your mind off the interaction for your whole shift. It was distracting, nerve racking…but it was also a bit enticing. You had no idea what you were going to say to him, but one thing was for certain, you weren’t about to deny that his request didn’t intrigue you.

The sound of his footsteps approaching is what snapped you out of your thoughts, your eyes widening a fraction as you saw him step into the living room in nothing but a towel. The truth was, he was just far too anxious to hear what you had to say to take the time and put on real clothes. Though now as he stood a few feet from you with just a thin piece of fabric shielding him, he felt a little exposed under your lingering gaze. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, his messy hair sticking to the sides of his face and the water droplets that clung to his skin, it truly was a sight to behold.

Had you always looked at him like this? From the moment you met, you always saw him as a close friend and someone you could count on for anything. But now it was like a switch flipped or something, nearly drooling as you saw him in a way you never had before.

“Somethin you need, sweetheart?” Daryl’s voice broke through the silence.

You blinked a few times as you were brought back to the current situation, nodding absentmindedly, “Yeah, uh…I was hoping we could talk.”

He shifted a bit on his feet, subconsciously tugging his towel up a bit, “Bout what?” he asked dumbly. He knew why you were here; he just didn’t know what else to say.

You gave him a look that made him feel stupider than before, “About earlier…” you trailed off after a moment, attempting to find the right words, “Were you…um…did you really mean all that?”

He shrugged, “Yeah…” he breathed, “You really think I didn’t mean what I said?”

“No,” you quickly reassured with a shake of your head, “It’s just…it was all really unexpected, you know? You’ve never done anything like this before, and now all of a sudden, you’re asking me-”

“I know how it looks,” he said as he dared to take another step closer to you, “But…I’ve had these feelings for ya ever since you first knocked on that damn door, alright? It’s new to you but it ain’t new to me.”

Your expression softened as he admitted this wasn’t some spur of the moment thing, not that you thought it was. But his confirmed feelings for you only drew you closer to him, hearing the assertiveness behind every word.

“Look,” he sighed, “Goin down there and askin ya that was me bein a fuckin idiot. I shouldn’t have gone about it like that, hell, maybe I shouldn’t have even asked at all...I don’t know. But I don’t want ya to feel like ya owe me a damn thing, cause ya don’t. If you don’t wanna do this-”

“I want to.”

Daryl paused for a moment when you interrupted him, feeling a bit shocked that you had made your decision just like that. But then again, you did have hours to think it over. Meanwhile he didn’t even have to think twice when it came to you.

“Y-You do?” he asked, not meaning to stutter. He was just thrown off and absolutely floored that someone as breathtaking as you would agree to something like this with him of all people.

You took a breath as you stepped closer to him, leaving just a few inches of space, “Yeah…I really do. Honestly, I’m...pretty flattered.”

He felt a sudden burst of nervousness in his chest as the reality of the situation began to set in for him. You wanted this too. He could easily see how genuine you were being as you moved to be closer to him.

Clearing his throat gruffly, he spoke again a bit quieter, “Yer flattered?” he couldn’t help but chuckle, “Ya don’t even know the half of it.”

You smiled a little, sensing both his eagerness and unease which you seemed to find charming, “It’s just me.” you reminded.

He nodded quickly, “Yeah, yeah I know…” he said as he hesitantly rested his hands upon your arms, as if to help steady himself. “I just…I don’t know what m’ doin.” he admitted a bit sheepishly.

“I know,” you reassured, “I’ll show you…you trust me?”

He nodded again, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage as he grew more anxious by the second. Not because of her, but because of the unknown. But it was clear he was in good hands. “I trust you.”

With his simple nod of approval, you reached up to gently grasp the back of his neck, before pulling him down to meet you halfway where your lips clashed together. He gasped quietly against your mouth, the softness of your lips already addicting as his hands instinctively squeezed your arms, wanting to keep himself grounded. The taste of you was better than he ever could’ve imagined, heavenly, unreal…but what else did he expect from someone as perfect as you? As the kiss deepened, you slowly coaxed his mouth open so you could slip in your tongue, his groan in response to you only encouraged you to keep going. His kiss was hesitant and a bit sloppy, though you couldn’t help but love it.

Your free hand moved up to his wrist, guiding his hand down toward your hip as if silently encouraging him to touch you. Daryl received the message loud and clear, but he was still a bit clueless when it came to how, slowly allowing his hand to roam the curve of your back blindly. He then pulled you a bit closer to him, wanting to feel every part of you against his skin. But with his swift movement, caused his towel to nearly slip all the way off his waist, feeling him quickly grab it before it had the chance to hit the ground.

He cursed quietly as he pulled away from your mouth, his breathing coming out in short, harsh pants as he grew a bit flushed at the idea of being completely naked in front of you. You allowed him to collect himself for as long as he needed, noticing the red that dusted his cheeks, but you still didn’t miss the blatant lust that filled his eyes.

Your hand reached up to gently brush some hair away from his face, “You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.” you spoke so softly, so patiently, leaving a few kisses on his cheek as if to help ease him.

He sighed shakily, trying to gather himself as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the feel of your touch, “I know, just…never been this exposed in front of anyone before.”

“I know,” you assured again, your mouth traveling to gently nip at his earlobe, “How about we move to your room? And you can take it off when you’re ready.”

Daryl hissed softly as your teeth grazed his ear, nodding frantically at your suggestion, “Okay…yeah.” he said breathlessly before taking your hand to guide you back down the hallway.

In a flash he had taken you into his room, shutting and locking the door behind the two of you before you gestured for him to sit down on the edge of his bed. He followed your suggestion without saying a word, willing to do just about anything you wanted right now with how incredibly turned on he was. Though he was extremely nervous, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted you, how many times he had imagined himself in situations much like this one. Completely at your mercy.

His eyes followed your movements as you came to stand in between his legs, cupping his face to angle it up toward you. “Just relax.” you whispered before slowly kissing him again with a little more force than before.

This time he couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, feeling the smoothness of your skin on his aging cheeks, his body physically shuttering. His hands reached out to pull you closer to his bare chest, wanting your body flush against him as his touch seemed to roam a bit more confidently. You felt his hands travel down to squeeze your ass, groaning into your mouth as your tongue invaded his mouth to taste him again. At this point he couldn’t help but wonder if this was a dream, or some kind of sick hallucination, his mind tricking his body that this was actually happening with how fast they seemed to move. But he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care right now.

You smiled against his lips as he gently groped your ass, your hands moving up towards his hair to give the roots a gentle tug as your mouths worked frantically. A shiver ran down his spine, the action making his head spin. You were so good with him, so gentle yet so firm as well. He couldn’t stop himself from breaking away from your mouth briefly, his lips moving down your neck as if he wanted to trace and memorize every last bit of your skin.

You sighed softly as your head instinctively tilted back for him, “You sure you’re a virgin? You seem pretty good at this.” you teased lightheartedly.

Chuckling against your skin, he took his time to kiss the underside of your jaw a few times before responding roughly, “Just have a good imagination is all…”

“You’ve thought about this before?”

He nodded a bit timidly against your neck, growing a bit shy at the admission, “A lot, actually…”

A smile broke out onto your face as you looked down at him, “Well, now I’m even more flattered.”

He groaned in slight embarrassment as he buried his face in the side of your neck, the words just slipping out without him being able to stop. His mind was too far in the clouds to realize fully, the lingering effects of the weed he had smoked making his mind a bit hazier. But he desperately wanted to remember every little detail, his hands trailing down toward your thighs as if he was itching to memorize your body.

“Here...” you then spoke again, moving his hands up toward the buttons of your blouse, “Help me out.”

Daryl looked back up at you with slightly widened eyes, swallowing thickly as he gave a shaky nod, beginning to undo them one by one. His calloused hands, though rough, couldn’t have been more gentle when it came to touching you. He treated every part of your skin like it was delicate glass, a piece of art to admire, as he almost didn’t feel worthy of being in this position. How could he have gotten so lucky when this was the last thing he thought he deserved.

“Keep going,” you encouraged when you felt your top fall to the floor, feeling his hands hesitantly move to unzip your skirt.

The piece of fabric slowly slid down your smooth legs and bunched at your feet, leaving you in practically nothing as you believed bras were a waste of time and effort to wear. His eyes took in every inch of you, mentally trying to capture this moment as he was already reluctant for it to end. And yet it hardly even started.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered as his hands reached out to touch you again, his face filled with desperation.

You smiled as you looked down at him, “Yeah?”

He nodded instantly, “Yeah…I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

A laugh escaped your lips as you leaned down to be aligned with his face, “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” you said sweetly before leaving a kiss on his cheek.

Daryl let out a breath as you kissed his cheek, the reminder that this was far from over was almost reassuring. His growing need and want was beginning to be unbearable, his hands gripping your thighs a bit tighter as he felt his erection start to ache.

“You wanna take that off for me?”

Upon hearing your request, the gesture of your hand that pointed toward the towel still around his hips, he grew a bit anxious. It was no secret that he was a bit insecure with the way he looked, he was older, his hair and beard a bit graying, his skin worn and scarred. He knew he was about to be fully vulnerable with you, that being both a good and a bad thing. He did trust you, but he just hoped you liked how he looked despite the fact that he didn’t.

It took a moment for him to build up the courage, to which you were incredibly patient, before he finally pulled the towel off of him, leaving him completely bare in front of you. But your reaction was far from a negative one. Your eyes widened a little as you took him in, not being able to see his flaws he was so worried about as you were solely focused on how breathtaking he looked. His arms could’ve been sculpted by gods, his toned chest rising and falling with every heaving breath, and as your gaze traveled south, you were shocked at the bragging rights he seemed to hold.

But the thing you wanted him to know the most, was that he was just as perfect to you as you were to him.

Though seeing his pleading expression seemed to stir something inside you, quickly slipping off your thong before stepping forward to straddle his hips in a fit of impatience. His eyes widened at your fast actions, but he wasn’t about to complain, his hands immediately going to your hips to hold to in place as he loved the feel of your skin against his. He didn’t know what to do now exactly, but he did know that he wanted more of you.

“You’re so handsome.” you praised, your mouth coming down to suck softly on the side of his neck. "So perfect for me."

A small gasp escaped him at your praise, your mouth working against his skin caused him to nearly melt beneath you. He had been called a lot of things in his life, but handsome and perfect were never one of them. It was new, different…and he loved it. He soaked up everything he could like a sponge, wanting to ravish in your touch forever. But when he felt you begin to rock against him, stroking his length with every pass of your hips, he couldn’t help the strangled moan he dared to let out. His hips instinctively bucked up against you in return, unable to help himself as he craved more than what you were giving him. All he could feel was his heart racing, his skin burning up, and his dick twitching as he physically needed more. His face nuzzled in the side of your neck, breathing you in as shivers of pleasure ran through him like currents of electricity.

You hummed, “You like that?” you asked, your mouth hovering over the shell of his ear where your teeth grazed his sensitive skin.

Daryl nodded his head frantically against you, losing himself in the lust he had never felt before in his entire life, “Yes…yes, I like it.” he stuttered out desperately, gripping onto you as a signal not to stop anytime soon.

He had never felt so good, the rhythm mixed with your kisses and taunting praise, he felt he could’ve imploded right then and there. He wanted more, his body craved more of you, but he didn’t know how to ask for it. His breathing was ragged at this point as he tried to hold himself back, his face still hidden in the crook of your neck as his lips began to place soft kisses against your skin. But as your pace grew more tortuous and slow, he couldn’t help but writhe and moan beneath you, not being able to take much more of your teasing.

You felt him pull back to look up at you, a distressed look painting his face, “Please.” he nearly whined. It was a tone you had never heard from him before, finding that you loved the way he was falling apart for you.

“Please what, honey?” you asked sweetly as if you didn’t already know, cupping the sides of his face, “Tell me what you want.”

A soft whimper escaped him in your agony, knowing damn well you knew what he meant. He looked up at you pleadingly, the smooth skin of your hands on his face feeling so good, but not good enough. “You…” he whispered needily, “I want you…please.” he begged.

Whilst he was beneath you, whimpering and pleading for you to fuck him, you on the other hand learned something new about yourself. The scene that played before you was something sinful, but you loved it far too much to feel even a little bit guilty. The burly man you had come to know as tough and stoic, just whimpered because of you. And for that, you had no choice but to give him what he so desperately needed.

In an instant you slowly sunk down onto his length, the size of him causing a moan of your own to escape through parted lips. Though Daryl on the other hand groaned loudly as he felt your tight walls enveloping him, his head falling back as he bit his lower lip in an attempt to silence the noises you threatened to pull from him with one simple move. It felt like he had just walked through the pearly gates of heaven, the feeling so surreal and pleasurable he couldn’t help but let it cross his mind.

As you adjusted to him, you looked down and studied his face, his brow already lined with sweat and his expression one of pure bliss. “You look so good like this.” you whispered, your finger gently tracing his jawline.

He wanted to scoff at your comment, thinking that he no doubt looked like a mess in front of you, but he couldn’t help but feel prideful at the thought of you loving it. It made him feel good, perhaps more confident even though he was fully flushed and exposed.

Though as he felt you begin to move, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and a low moan left him in response, feeling the heat in his stomach already beginning to build. His hands moved from your hips down to your thighs as if to encourage you to keep going, giving them a firm squeeze as he panted to try and catch his breath. He felt as if he were going insane with the waves of pleasure washing down upon him, the feeling like no other as he knew he was a goner from the moment you agreed. His head was spinning though he tried to concentrate, not wanting it to ever come to an end as he watched you steadily pick up the pace from above him.

His mind was lost on him as your movements quickened skillfully, his hips pathetically trying to match your pace though he was failing miserably. But he didn’t care. It felt too good to care. His fingers nearly dug into the soft skin of your thighs as he whimpered and squirmed, feeling himself already starting to chase his high. He felt a little embarrassed that it had taken him close to nothing to reach his peak, but then again, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to stop.

Daryl grew desperate to say something, to warn you that he was getting more and more overwhelmed with the feeling of ecstasy, though he wasn’t able to form any coherent sentence. All that managed to come out were pathetic whines and moans as he desperately tried to pound into you, looking up at you with widened eyes in hopes you would get the message.

And you did. You understood completely. With a simple kiss on his lips and encouraging words, you let him know that it was okay. “I know, honey, I know.” you said sweetly, “Let go for me.”

He whimpered against you lips when you kissed him, hearing your words made him feel a bit more at ease as he felt himself just on the brink of losing all control he had left. But he couldn’t help the way you were making him feel. With his mind beginning to cloud and the desperate movements he made, he finally felt himself release deep inside you, burying his face in your neck as he came. You slowed down your pace a bit as you guided him through his high, trying to make it last as long as possible for him as he just gripped and thrusted into you harder. Near sobs began spilling from his lips as he clung onto your limbs, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths as his body was practically vibrating.

He hadn't meant to be this much of a mess, completely falling apart from underneath you as he chased his high so desperately. But with how unbelievable you made him feel, it was like he had no control over the noises he made t or the emotions he felt. Like you had complete control. And he loved it more than he was willing to admit.

It took him a while to come back down to earth, but you waited patiently the whole time, running your fingers through his tangled mess of hair as he collected his hazy thoughts. Though he couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed and a bit vulnerable, knowing he didn’t last as long as he would’ve hoped. When he finally gathered the courage to look you in the eye, he feared your reaction, as if he expected you to regret what just happened.

But instead you smiled, “You okay?” you asked gently.

All he managed was a small nod in response, letting out a breath as it was clear you weren’t upset in the slightest. But as his mind wandered a bit, he began to feel selfish, realizing he couldn’t make you feel as good as you made him feel. Leaving him overthinking the things he could’ve done differently.

“I’m sorry.” he then whispered gravely.

Your brows furrowed a little in concern, “For what?”

He blushed a bit with embarrassment, almost not wanting to explain his reasoning for speaking up in the first place. But your gaze remained expectant, and he knew he should answer. “For not…makin ya feel good.” he said sheepishly.

“Hey…” you said softly as you titled his head up to look at you, “You did make me feel good.”

The truth was you enjoyed yourself, even if you didn’t finish, you didn’t care. He was still new at this, and that wasn’t something you were about to shame him for.

He grew a little surprised at your admission, “But…you didn’t…” he trailed off, almost not wanting to say it out loud.

You smiled a little at his lack of words, “It was your first time, Daryl. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” you said, kissing his cheek reassuringly.

He sighed, “I know…but I wanna make ya feel good too.” he tried to explain.

“You will,” you nodded, “Practice makes perfect, right?” you said with a small wink.

He perked right up at that, the idea of doing this again with you hadn’t even crossed his mind. He assumed it would only be a one time thing, but hearing you say that sent a spark of excitement through him.

“So…there’ll be a next time?” he asked, trying to hide his hopefulness.

You laughed softly, “Only if you want there to be.”

He quickly nodded, he would have to be an absolute fool to say no to something like that. “Course I do…I want ya…as many times as you’ll let me have ya.”

Your smile widened as you leaned in to kiss him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to bring him flush against you. He groaned softly as his hands danced across your back, suddenly feeling very grateful. He almost couldn’t believe someone as kind and understanding would actually want him, but he couldn’t bring himself to question it for very long. Just simply wanting to live in the moment and not take it for granted.

“Wanna go again?” you asked against his lips.

“Mhm.” he hummed immediately as he deepened the kiss, his response not having any hint of hesitation. It made you laugh softly, feeling him already getting excited all over again. It was safe to say it was going to be an eventful night.

~ Thanks for reading!

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feyascorner · 10 months ago

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Astarion is such a girl dad nobody can tell me otherwise.

Would he be a responsible parent? Maybe. It depends on which act we’re looking at. He’d give her a doll and then a pretty knife for her birthday. But gods if he doesn’t absolutely wreak havoc with a little version of himself…

You would walk in on him having a tea party with his daughter, makeup messily smeared on his face and parts of his hair tied with pink rubber bands. He looks ridiculous crouched on a tiny chair, but he takes this tea party very seriously. Your daughter does too, it seems, as they chat about some imaginary society of stuffed animals and gossip about which stuffy was rude to another.

He’d also let her play dentist on his fangs, lying on the sofa while feigning a toothache so his daughter can “treat” him with random tools around the house. If you weren’t terrified she might accidentally cut herself on how sharp his teeth are, you’d think it’s adorable.

And when I say this man dresses her, I am not over exaggerating. He teaches her early on how to do basic sewing and adjustments to her clothes, but he’s also loves to buy her little frilly bows and such that he knows she’ll like. Dresses, scarves, gloves, you name it. He loves putting on a show, so why should his own daughter walk around in dreadfully boring clothing?

On one of the occasions you join in on their tea parties, he steps out of the room for a few minutes to grab something. When he returns, your daughter is fast sleep in your lap, and you smile down softly at her. The sight makes his chest swell.

“I think she has your nose, darling,” he says as he sits down beside you.

“Has your sass, though. I caught her staring at herself in the mirror the other day too.”

He snorts and you finally lift your head to look at him. His eyes flit back and forth between you and your daughter, his features gentle. “Do you blame her? Who wouldn’t want to take after all this?”

You stifle a laugh, careful to keep from waking her. Brushing the hair out of your face, he plants his lips to your forehead while soft snores come from down at your lap.

“I fear I’ll mess up with her,” he whispers against your cheek.

You shake your head, leaning it against his shoulder. “You won’t.”

Somehow, he feels himself trusting your words. He’s always found it easy to do so when it came to you.

#is this OOC maybe #idc I need fluff #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 4 months ago

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The Gift

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Virgin f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Period typical sexism and treatment of women, period-typical ideas of virginity and virtue, Marcus is a bit rude at first but he comes around quickly, attempted assault that is heavily implied to be sexual, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, wound care, yearning, virginity loss, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex, mushy endings :)

Summary: The Emperor of Rome has given his most valued General, Marcus Acacius, a generous gift after his recent successful battle. Rather than the gold he’s hoping for, Marcus is stunned when a young virgin is delivered to his chambers. At first, he refuses to entertain the idea of stealing the virtue of a scared girl, but their lives become entwined when he learns that refusing his ‘gift’ puts her in even more danger…

A/N: The art in the header is by @norththelemon and is inspired by Paulo and Virginia by Alessandro Puttinati. Thank you so much for letting me use this artwork for my fic!!! <3 The artwork does not necessarily reflect the appearance of the reader character; rather, it is a reflection of the original artwork. The only physical description I included of reader is that she has long, curly hair (color and texture are never mentioned). Marcus’s pet name for her, bellatora, very loosely translates to “little warrior.” Thank you to the lovely @leslie-lyman for the beta! **NOTE: as attempted SA can be triggering to some people, I have separated out this section with asterisks (******). You can quickly skip this scene and you will not miss any significant plot. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to send me a DM! Be safe <3

Masterlist

Marcus rides through the streets of Rome, the cheers of citizens ringing in his ears and the white petals being thrown from above him sticking in his curls. The populus is joyful, but he cannot help but think of the cost of the battle, about the sons and husbands who he knows are not returning home.

He longs for a bath, to wash the grime, dirt and blood from his body. He longs to strip off the heavy, soiled armor and lay down on his bed, naked and warm and full of bread and wine, and sleep for several days.

First, however, he must endure the long procession up to the palace, where the Emperor was surely waiting for him–where he would have to play all the little games that come with positions of power: smile, nod, say the right words and act in the ways that other people expect of a General.

The horse whinnies nervously as the cacophony swells, and Marcus gently pats its neck, sending a cascade of petals to the ground to be trodden underfoot by so many hooves.

The Emperor waits at the top of the Palace steps, surrounded by all of his court and Roman nobility. Without allowing any of the contempt he feels to show on his face, Marcus Acacius dismounts from the horse and slowly ascends the marble stairs. When he reaches the top, the Emperor pulls him into an exaggerated hug, slapping his back and cheering loudly enough for the onlookers to hear.

“Congratulations to you, my friend, for your triumph and victory over the vanquished,” the man booms, slapping Marcus's pauldron again for good measure and causing another great cheer to rise up from the crowd.

Marcus does not say anything, but he turns to face the onlookers and unsheathes his sword, raising it over his head victoriously, knowing that's what they all want him to do. The resulting din seems to rattle the very stones of the palace.

“You must be weary, good soldier,” the Emperor tells him. “Go now and rest. A gift will be sent to your chambers to show your Emperor’s appreciation for your prowess in battle.”

Marcus nods and bows deeply, indicating his gratitude for his Lord's generosity. He's most thankful, however, for the quick dismissal.

The General’s quarters in the palace are spacious and outfitted with all modern amenities Marcus could ever think to ask for. He quickly lights a fire under the basin to begin heating water for a bath. He begins removing his armor, leaving it by the door where he knows it will be collected for cleaning and polishing. He discards the filthy underclothing and retrieves a clean cloth with which to wash.

It is only now that Marcus is able to take sock tock of his injuries; as the grime is wiped clean from his body, he can finally see where the blood was his, and where the blood was not his. His arms are peppered with bruises and superficial wounds, but nothing that requires any dressing.

He is lucky.

Marcus dresses in loose robes, luxuriating in the feeling of being free and unencumbered by his armor. With a deep, satisfied sigh, he settles himself down on the bed, surrounded by the ornate pillows that come with Palace trappings, and closes his eyes.

They’ve barely been closed for a few minutes when a knock sounds at the door.

Marcus frowns. All his joints and muscles protest when he reluctantly rises from the bed again and opens the door. He’s greeted by one of the Emperor’s personal guard, who is roughly holding the upper arm of a young girl.

“What is the meaning of this?” Marcus asks hesitantly, taking in the girl’s simple, white shift that clings to her breasts and hips, her trembling lips, and her wide, terrified eyes.

“The Emperor, in his generosity, presents you with this virgin as reward for your duty to Rome,” the guard announces. He pushes the girl forward into Marcus’s chambers and shuts the door behind him.

“What in the Gods’...” the General murmurs under his breath as you are shoved unceremoniously into the room.

You curtsy deeply, remembering, despite your fear, what you have been instructed to do. “M-My Lord,” you whisper through trembling lips. You can only stare at the floor, unable to look at the man to whom you have been gifted.

“I had been hoping for gold,” the man grumbles. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

He sounds angry. This terrifies you more.

“I am f-for your… p-pleasure,” you try to explain. “My Lord.” You deepen the curtsy, until your knees nearly scrape the floor. If you please him, perhaps he will not be unkind.

“Stop that. Get up.” the man snaps. “I’m not in the mood for deflowering virgins.”

“S-Sir?” You don’t understand. You weren’t prepared for the man to say no. You were bathed, dressed, and told that you were to be a gift for a mighty general. You were to please him, let him bed you, and serve him until he tired of you. You were instructed to kneel, to address him as only “My Lord,” and to do whatever he asked of you. Only then would the debt your father owed to the Emperor be paid in full.

You were not given instructions on what to do if the General refused his gift.

“D-Do I not please My Lord?” you try again. Terrified of being turned away, sent back to your father, where they’d surely kill you both, you begin to cry.

“By the Gods–stop, come here,” the General says, sounding exasperated. He gently leads you to a chair and indicates you should sit. You do. He crouches on his heels so that your heads are level, and examines you. “Who are you, girl?”

“I… am the only daughter of Proculus Opilio,” you sniffle. “I am a gift for his Lord’s pleasure.”

The man’s fingers take hold of your chin; his hands are gentle as he guides your eyes up to his. “Why are you a gift,” he presses.

“M-My family owes a great debt,” you whisper. “I am to be payment for our transgressions against the Emperor.”

“The Emperor sends me a frightened child,” the man growls as he quickly stands and paces away from you, “and calls it a gift.”

“You must accept,” you say frantically, hopping up from your seat and following him. “They will know if you do not, and we will be punished for it.”

The general scoffs. “What, they intend on checking?” he asks, as if such a thing is too ridiculous to be spoken aloud.

“Yes,” you whisper. They told you as such.

“Girl,” he says sternly. “I am not going to enact such violence on a scared child.”

“I am not a child,” you argue, sticking your chin up. “I have seen nineteen summers, almost twenty.”

The General seems to find this funny. He huffs, shaking his head and turning away. “Go home, girl.”

“I cannot go home,” you say, and start to cry again.

“Stop. Stop,” the man entreats. He turns toward you again and cages your face in his hands, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs. “Okay. Do not worry, I will… Gods, I will help. You and your family will come to no harm.”

“Thank you,” you say emphatically, your hands coming up to your shoulders in preparation to unclasp your shift.

“No! Stop!” You freeze again, eyes wide.

The General softens, and gentles his words. “Please stop. I am weary from battle and I need to sleep. Please… let us both rest, and after that we may discuss this with level heads.”

“Of course, My Lord,” you nod, curtsying again.

“Marcus.”

“...My Lord?”

“Call me Marcus. I am no Lord.”

“As you wish, My Lord.” It comes out automatically.

The General–Marcus–raises one eyebrow.

“...Marcus.” You watch as the man pads over to the bed and collapses onto it with a heavy sigh.

“You may sleep here, you may sleep elsewhere, it does not concern me,” he mumbles, eyes already closed. “I am not long for this world and will be unconscious for quite some time, I imagine.”

His words are correct; within a matter of minutes the man is snoring.

Alone and scared, you sink back down into the chair, and begin to cry again.

Marcus wakes with something tickling his nose. Opening his eyes, he’s greeted by a mass of curls on his pillow, framing the angelic face of…

Oh.

He had forgotten about you. At some point, you had clearly decided to sleep as well, because you are curled up next to him, your hands clasped under your chin and your lips slightly parted in sleep. This is the first time he’s seen your face not terrified, and he realizes that you are really quite beautiful.

He does not know what to do with you.

Marcus has never had a shortage of willing partners, and he is uninterested in the alternative. You are pretty, young, and soft, but he is not the sort of man to force himself on a woman. Even if you did ask him in no uncertain terms to do so, it would not be for the right reasons.

He needs to find a way out of this situation, ideally with his life, your life, and the lives of your family still intact; he did not wade through the blood and mire of battlefield just to condemn an innocent woman to death.

“Girl,” he says lowly, and your eyes open quickly. They go wide at his proximity, and you scramble back a few inches, creating more space between you.

“H-Hello,” you greet him shakily.

“Good morn,” he replies. “How are you feeling?”

“Well-rested, My Lo–Marcus.” You offer him a small, timid smile.

Marcus glances toward the window. “It must be almost midday,” he says, noticing the angle of the sun. He’d fallen asleep yesterday in the late afternoon, slept all night, and through the morning. He hopes you did the same.

“I am famished.” He gets up from the bed–Gods, his muscles still ache–and pads toward the door to his chambers. “With any luck, this morning’s breakfast will still be outside.”

It feels like the only act of providence that has happened since his return to the Palace that the breakfast tray is still there, laden with fresh bread and fruit. He carries it inside and sets it on the small table in his chambers. He grabs a piece of bread with one hand and beckons you over with the other, too hungry to be polite and wait for you before tearing a piece off with his teeth. He finishes the bread in a few bites, but you still stand near the bed, unmoving and watching him with wary eyes.

“Come. Eat.” Marcus grabs another piece of bread and a handful of grapes.

Hesitantly, you approach the table, looking like a wild animal unsure of whether the human offering you food can be trusted.

“I do not bite, girl,” he grumbles.

You snatch a loaf off of the table and retreat backwards a couple of paces, breaking off small pieces and popping them into your mouth as you continue to stare at him.

“What will you do with me?” you ask.

“Do with you?” Marcus laughs humorlessly. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” you repeat, beginning to sound angry. Good. Marcus would rather you be anything but the timid, scared girl that was shoved into his chambers. “So you would condemn my family to death?”

“I am not going to take an unwilling woman to bed,” he growls, taking more grapes from the tray and popping them into his mouth.

“Most people would do far worse to save the life of a loved one,” you argue.

Marcus scoffs. “I’ve seen and done things you could not imagine, girl. If losing your maidenhood is the worst thing you can conceive of–”

“It is not,” you snap, stamping your foot in a show of exasperated petulance. “If you are not going to help me, then… I—I hope the gods curse you!” you finish lamely. You spin on your heels and retreat to the corner of his room, sitting down on a chair and crossing your arms with a huff.

Marcus closes his eyes. He is being too harsh with her, too cruel. He has spent too long shouting orders at his men of late, and not enough time offering comfort or kind words. He grimaces and approaches you with caution. You glare at him, and he doesn’t blame you, but he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you before speaking.

“I have been unkind,” he says softly. “Please forgive my rudeness.”

He watches as your pretty eyes narrow, then widen, then narrow again as a number of emotions seem to flicker across your face. Your lips part, but you don’t respond, and Marcus forges on.

“I did not ask to be put in this situation, and neither did you. I made a promise to you last night that you and your family will come to no harm, but we must work together to keep you safe.”

“Would it not be easier to simply take your ‘gift’?” you sniffle, jutting your chin out and trying–unsuccessfully, he thinks to himself–to be brave.

Marcus chuckles softly, reaching forward and gently grasping both of your hands. “I have committed enough violence in the name of Emperor and Country to last a man several lifetimes. I may not have been as kind as I should have been to you, but I will not take the innocence of a scared girl who is being used as a pawn in the evil games of powerful men.”

You sniffle again, wiping your nose on the back of one hand. “Sometimes I wish I could just be free of this cursed ‘gift’ of innocence and lose all value to men like that.”

Marcus huffs in amusement. “Do you, now?”

You sigh, turning and looking out of the window. “How nice it would be to be valued for other qualities, instead,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to him. When you turn back to look at him, you ask, “How will you–we–subvert the wishes of the Emperor himself?”

Ah. He was rather hoping you wouldn’t ask, at least not yet. Truthfully, he has no idea; all he can really hope to do is attempt to sway the Emperor in some way, or at the very least, buy him some time.

“I will request an audience,” Marcus tells you. “I must go soon to debrief with the other generals, and he will be in attendance. I will speak to him, garner favor…” he trails off, knowing how vague and uncertain he sounds.

“You would really take such a risk for me…?” you ask hesitantly.

“The Emperor, in his wisdom, has bestowed upon me a gift,” Marcus says sardonically. “And as I see it, that gift is now mine, and is under my protection.” He gently cups your cheek, letting his palm rest against the slightly damp skin. “We will use his… generosity… to our advantage.”

He stands, letting his fingers trail across your jaw before pulling his hand back. “I must go. Do not open the door to anyone while I am gone.”

In the General’s absence, you finish off the rest of the breakfast tray, which was plentiful. With a full belly, you wander around the man’s chambers, exploring the space that will also be yours for the foreseeable future. You wash in the basin, splashing cool water on your face and sighing in relief. For the first time in over a day, you are finally able to breathe and take stock of your situation.

You should be grateful, really. The General Marcus, although gruff and tactless at times, seems to be a caring, even kind man. You believe him when he says he will protect you, protect your family, even though you have nothing to give him in return. Nothing he wishes to take, at any rate.

Your eyes fall on an ornate dagger sitting on a table near the window, and you cannot help but think of the way his hands–the same hands that would fiercely wield a weapon to slice through skin and bone–so gently touched your face.

A loud knock on the door to Marcus’s chambers startles him out of your reverie. A soft noise of surprise escapes you before you are able to clap your hand over your mouth to stifle it. You can tell that whoever is on the other side of the door has heard you, because they pause, listening, and then knock again.

The handle rattles as someone on the other side turns it back and forth, testing the strength of the lock, and your heart pounds with trepidation.

They cannot get in. They cannot get in. They cannot get in. You repeat the phrase over and over in your head, but then you hear the distinct click as the lock is bypassed or picked, and the door swings wide.

“Well, well, well,” a man in ornate robes sneers. “It appears the rumors are true.”

**********************************

Another man in similar garb pushes past him. “Our beloved general has a new toy.” The words are dripping in sarcasm.

You back up against the wall, and the table next to you rattles when you bump it with your hip. Quickly, you pick up the dagger and point it at the intruders.

Both men guffaw loudly, slapping their knees and shoving each others’ shoulders in their apparent mirth. “She has teeth, she does!” one of them jeers.

“Tell us, did you bite the General when he stuck you?”

The men lunge forward, and you slash with the blade. One of them howls, clutching at his arm, where red is already beginning to well up between his fingers, but you are unused to wielding weapons and the second man rips it from your grasp easily.

“You little bitch,” the injured one spits, and slaps you, hard, with his good hand, the blood from his injury splashing your face and your white robes. You crumple in an instant, clutching your cheek, as the two men close in.

“I bet she squeals nice and loud,” one of them growls menacingly as he reaches for you.

*************************************

A loud bang from behind the men makes them startle. You look for the source, and see the General standing in the doorway with fury in his eyes. He wrenches another dagger from its scabbard and, with no warning, lunges forward and plunges it into the neck of the man who had reached for you. With a sickening gurgle, the man collapses instantly, and red blood begins to pool underneath him. Marcus rips the dagger from the man’s neck and points it at the second man as he shoves him against the wall, who immediately begins to whimper and shake his head.

“Sniveling cur,” the General spits. “I would happily kill you both, but you are going to deliver a message for me instead.” At the man’s frantic nod, he continues. “It seems that some need reminding that I am not to be trifled with,” Marcus snarls. “And the next person who disrespects me by harming my property will be dealt with in the same manner as your friend. Now. Go.”

The man bolts, clutching the wound you had given him.

Marcus’s demeanor immediately changes. He drops the dagger on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands again… hands that are trembling.

“They hurt you,” he murmurs, his eyes rapidly flicking back and forth over your face, seeing the blood that had spattered on your robes.

“It isn’t mine,” you manage to say, although your voice shakes and your chest heaves with leftover terror. You can’t keep your gaze from landing on the dead man in front of you, his eyes still open and staring sightlessly ahead. “I–your knife I–”

“Okay,” he nods, his thumbs still caressing your cheekbones. “Okay. Shhh. Don’t look at him, look at me.” When you manage to pull your gaze to the General instead, you’re suddenly captivated by his wild, dark eyes. They’re so full of fire, yes, but with that fire brings warmth. He stares at you as if you are a precious object, not some scared little girl covered in blood and cowering against the wall. “Come here,” Marcus says softly. “Let me help you up.”

You surprise even yourself when you automatically lean forward and into the General’s arms. He stiffens, seemingly just as stunned by your trust in him, but he recovers and carefully stands, pulling you up with him and gently turning your body away from the dead man. He leads you forward, and you follow blindly as he guides you down onto a chair.

“Let me fetch a cloth,” Marcus says, his expression stormy and troubled, “to clean you up. Do not move.”

You nod, watching as he fills a little bowl with water from the basin and comes back to crouch at your feet. “Your cheek,” he murmurs. “Is it very painful?”

You nod again, a few hot tears escaping from your eyes and stinging the small cut in question.

“I will be as gentle as I can,” Marcus promises. “But it must be cleaned.”

You shut your eyes as his fingers carefully grasp your chin, using his hold to tilt your head and grant him easier access. The cloth is cold against the burning skin of your cheek, and you cannot stop the soft whimper that leaves your lips. Gently, the General dabs the little wound, dipping the cloth in water over and over and soothing the tender skin as he wipes it clean of dirt and blood.

Once satisfied with your cheek, he cleans the man’s blood off of the rest of your face and neck, as well as the few droplets that had landed on your hands from the other man as he was stabbed.

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely as he gently turns one hand over and dabs away the last remaining spot of blood on the inside of your wrist.

“You should not be thanking me,” Marcus says, voice tinged with bitterness. “It is because of me that you came to harm.”

“Yet it is also because of you that I was not harmed further,” you tell him quietly. Your eyes dart toward the body in a pool of blood still lying on the floor, and quickly look away again. “You killed a man for me.”

“You are under my protection,” Marcus says solemnly. “I do not take that vow lightly.”

As your heartbeat finally begins to slow, the deep terror that had been swirling inside you leaves, replaced with bone-weary fatigue. Your vision swims and your head sways slightly as you suddenly feel that you must fight the urge to fall asleep right here in this chair.

“Something ails me,” you say, alarmed at your darkening vision.

“Battle fatigue,” the General says matter-of-factly. “When the fog of war lifts, sleep often takes its place.”

“I am no soldier,” you protest tiredly. The world shifts–Marcus has scooped you into his arms and is carrying you to his bed, carefully laying you down on the blankets.

“You are now,” he teases gently. “Victorious little soldier, bellatora, wielding a General’s weapon with ferocity. You even have a battle scar.” His finger gingerly brushes your cheek.

“Will others come?” you ask, struck with a sudden pang of fear even as your eyes threaten to close.

“No.”

“What if they do?” It’s a silly question, and you aren’t sure why you even gave voice to such a childish fear. Warmth envelops you as Marcus covers your form with a blanket. Your eyes finally close, and the General’s last words seem to come to you through a dream.

“Then I will fight the entire Roman army to keep you safe.”

Marcus Acacius did not want this “gift.”

He did not want a virgin to deflower, nor a scared girl to comfort, or even a servant that inexplicably tidied his rooms while he was away.

He did not want you.

But here you are, sitting by his window with a book, eating all of your dinner and a good portion of his, and leaving long, curly hairs on his pillows, by the basin, and even on his armor–something he had discovered during a drill one morning, pulling the offending strand off of his pauldron with a bemused shake of his head.

He does not want you. He doesn’t want the comb and mirror that now lie on the table by the basin, nor the extra rags he had to ask a servant for–ears burning bright red–when your… er… monthlies arrived. He does not want to spend his wages on new robes for you, but he hardly has a choice, not when your thin white shift became filthy with blood the night that he–

Gods.

The night that he almost lost you.

If his meeting had gone just five minutes longer, he would have been too late. He would have arrived to a much different scene, and he knows he would have killed every inhabitant of the palace in retribution.

This is how he knows that he cannot trust his own feelings when it comes to you. What should be an unwanted inconvenience in his life has quickly become much, much more. He acts like a man in love, the way he buys you trinkets and brings you sweets, but no matter how he twists the story in his own head, he cannot deny the truth: you are a captive. His captive.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, a wealthy merchant crosses his path in the bustling market, followed by another man carrying all of the man’s wares for him, purposely walking several paces behind as is the custom for slaves.

Marcus can dress you in all the finery his salary can afford, but that does not change the fact that you were intended to be a slave for his pleasure.

He already has his intended prize from the market–a parcel containing two pieces of sweetbread tucked under one arm–but perhaps it is guilt over your imprisonment that causes his head to wander to the stall of jewelry to his left.

“Trinkets for a special someone,” says a middle-aged woman wearing kohl eyeliner and almost as many beads around her own neck as are displayed in her stall. She shoots Marcus a knowing smirk as his fingers reach out to graze a length of beads of palest pink.

“Rose quartz,” the woman tells him. “For love, compassion, and emotional healing.”

Rose quartz. He cannot help but picture the pretty, pale beads glowing, luminous against the soft skin of your neck.

“How much?” His voice is rough and thick.

The woman’s smile widens.

They cost almost an entire weeks’ salary, and he’s never spent such a sum on anything for himself, let alone something so frivolous, but he’s already reaching for his purse.

You grin widely at Marcus’s return–a sight that makes his heart swell when he remembers how frightened you were of him on that first night. You make little grabbing motions with your hands, causing him to laugh as he hands over the parcel of sweetbread. You take your piece and hand him the other, hardly waiting until he’s taken it before you’re biting into the sweet dough with a sound of pleasure that goes straight to his nether regions.

He thinks of the necklace, wrapped in cloth and hidden in his robes, but he is struck with a moment of uncharacteristic cowardice, and he leaves it where it is.

“Tell me about the market,” you say wistfully.

“Too crowded,” Marcus grunts before taking a bite of his own sweetbread.

You seem to find his cantankerous nature funny, for Gods know what reason, and the pretty sound of your laughter fills the room–and his mind.

“There are a number of visitors for some play at the amphitheater tonight,” he explains further, shrugging slightly.

You suddenly exclaim in delight, startling him a little. “I love the amphitheater,” you say emphatically. “My father often had to punish me for sneaking in to see plays against his wishes when I was a little girl.”

Marcus chuckles, picturing a smaller version of you, but no less fiery.

“It was worth it,” you laugh. You pop the last piece of sweetbread into your mouth and suck each finger clean of the sticky dough in turn. Marcus should look away, but he’s entranced by the way your lips close around each digit, leaving clean, shiny skin in your wake.

He blames this momentary onset of utter madness for the words that leave his mouth next.

“Would you like to go see it? The play?”

The pure delight that washes over your face is enough to make Marcus want to take you to a different play every night, but after too short a time, you are frowning warily.

“Would that be wise?” you ask. “Is it not dangerous for me to leave your quarters?”

“You would be seen as my consort,” Marcus answers. “No harm will come to you, bellatora.”

“Your… your consort?”

“You cannot be a prisoner in these walls for the rest of your days,” he tells you softly. “If we play the parts we have been given–the General and his consort–no one will question it. They wouldn’t dare, not after my warning. The entire palace knows that I will gladly kill anyone who threatens you.”

You duck your head, looking down at your hands. Marcus wonders if you’re frightened of him, still.

“Everyone will see my act as one of possession,” he says. “Of territoriality. If we allow them to draw that conclusion, they will never suspect any different.”

You nod, biting your lower lip and giving him a timid smile that slowly spreads across your face and turns into something bright and joyful.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“The play will end before we even arrive, bellatora,” Marcus grouses from the main chamber.

“Patience,” you snap from the washroom. The stupid elaborate hairstyle that you keep trying to braid your hair into keeps falling out, and you’re beginning to feel frustrated. With a heavy sigh, you settle for a simpler plait that falls over one shoulder. You’re wearing one of the nicer gowns that Marcus has gifted you–robes of deep emerald green, but you still worry that you look far too common to be an appropriate consort to a General.

Since when has such a thing become a concern for you? Despite the roles you are forced to play, Marcus is not your consort, nor your lover. He has made it clear he will never touch you, so why are you hiding in the washroom, worrying over your appearance?

With a pained sigh, you shake yourself, square your shoulders, and turn to face the General.

“Ready,” you announce, and the man in question looks up.

His lips part slightly, a little crease forming on his brow as his eyebrows raise. He fixes you with that look–the one he keeps giving you lately. It’s as if he’s in a constant state of surprise every time he sees you, as if you aren’t a permanent fixture in his rooms and could disappear at any moment.

“What?” you finally ask.

Marcus seems to shake himself out of his stupor. “It is missing something.”

The statement confuses you. “I–I have nothing else to–” You cut yourself off as the man seems to be digging through his clothing, looking for what, you do not know.

“I thought this would suit you,” he says quietly, as he retrieves a small parcel and holds it out for you to take.

You hesitate, frowning. “What is it?”

Marcus huffs softly with impatience and opens the parcel himself, revealing the prettiest strand of stones you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh,” you gasp.

“Do you…” the man in front of you clears his throat and shifts in his stance, “Do you like it?” he asks gruffly.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, I like it.”

Wordlessly, he removes it from the cloth and moves behind you to clasp it at the back of your neck. You can’t help the wide smile that breaks across your face at the feel of the cool beads resting against your throat. Gently, you touch the necklace with your fingers and turn to look at Marcus. “Does it look pretty?” you ask, still grinning at him.

The General’s face is almost pained when he returns your gaze. His eyes don’t leave yours when he softly answers, “Yes.”

Marcus Acacius has never been much for plays, but never before has he experienced seeing one with you. He can’t help cracking a small smile himself every time you let out a joyful peal of laughter, which you do often, as the story is a humorous one.

The necklace suits you just as he thought it would, but your beauty almost makes the stones appear dull in comparison. If anyone were to ask him, Marcus would say that your smile could outshine all of Rome. Pretending that you are his consort is far too easy; your delicate fingers find the crook of his elbow without prompting when he offers his arm to you as you walk through the streets when the show ends. Your eyes always seem to find his, your face bright and hopeful and oh so lovely as you look up at him.

“Marcus?”

He’s been lost in his thoughts again. He grunts and nods to you as the two of you walk back to the palace, when you suddenly stop.

“I want to tell you…” you begin, wringing your hands together nervously.

“What is it, bellatora?” Marcus asks with concern.

“I want to tell you that I am… very happy,” you say, ducking your head and avoiding his gaze.

“I am glad that you enjoyed the play,” Marcus says hesitantly, wondering what is making you suddenly be so… shy.

“With you,” you add quietly. “It’s not only the play, it’s… it’s just you, Marcus.” The final word is almost a plea, with how earnestly it leaves your lips. “I–I want you to know that I would. I would be your consort, i-if you wanted, and I’d–”

Marcus closes the small distance between you and presses his lips against yours. You yield to him immediately, your small hands moving up the planes of his chest and coming to rest at his jaw. You kiss with the slight timidness of someone unfamiliar with how to do it, but oh, he’s happy to guide you. One of his hands gently cups your neck, the other caresses your cheek and it’s all he can do to keep the kiss chaste and not frighten you by backing you up against the wall of the alleyway and opening his mouth to you.

When he releases your lips, you chase him–leaning forward with your mouth still pouted and your eyes closed, as though you cannot bear to be parted from him, and it takes a herculean effort not to indulge.

“Come,” Marcus murmurs softly, his thumb tracing back and forth over your cheekbone, watching as you flutter your eyes open and look at him with an expression of such open trust and want that he feels as though he’ll burn from the inside out. “Come, let us go home.”

You are ablaze.

Marcus’s hands seem to burn with heat as he guides you hastily through the palace and to his familiar quarters, but their temperature still seems to pale in comparison to the heat that rises within you.

Once inside, he kisses you again, and you swear your knees could simply buckle and give out just at the feel of his lips on yours. You crave it again and again; your hands grip at his robes to hold him close to you, hoping he’ll never stop.

“Sweet girl, little bellatora,” Marcus murmurs, his lips dragging from your mouth across your cheek to the side of your neck and oh, you like that even more–your head falls to the side and your back arches as you all but beg for his lips on your skin again. His hand on your lower back guides you even closer until your bodies are pressing together and you gasp softly at the feeling of his body against yours.

“Tell me,” he whispers in your ear, his lips grazing the shell of your earlobe and causing a cascade of shivers to course through you. “Tell me that you want this. If you do not, deny me now, and I promise I will never touch you again.”

“No,” you whimper automatically. “No, please don’t stop, just–”

“Shhh, bellatora.” Marcus seems to crumple with relief, leaning forward until your back hits the wall and his lips ravish your neck once again. “I won’t stop, just tell me you want me like this.”

“Yes,” you gasp, as the General’s hands cage your face and his mouth meets yours once again. “Yes, yes, yes–” You repeat the word over and over into his mouth, until he groans softly and parts his lips too, deepening the kiss and tasting you with his tongue.

His hands caress your neck, fingertips running up and down before settling on the clasps on your shoulders. “Let me see you,” he whispers. “Please, let me–”

You pull back, looking in his eyes as you nod slowly, giving him permission. He carefully undoes your dress, letting the fabric fall and pool at your feet. The necklace is still around your neck, and he touches the beads lightly as he stares at the sight before him.

“Oh, Gods…” Marcus murmurs to himself, shaking his head in awe. “What a divine gift you are, bellatora.”

His eyes rake over your breasts, your hips, the swell of your stomach, and the fire burning within threatens to consume you. With one more soft kiss, he whispers, “Come to the bed, so I may worship you properly.”

You let him lead you, keeping your eyes on him as he takes your hands in his and pulls you toward the bed. You are too consumed with flames to feel fear of this moment, but a pang of nervousness thrums within you despite yourself.

Marcus guides you down until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. You begin to scoot backwards–you might not have much experience, but you know you’re supposed to be lying on the bed–when he stops you, and instead sinks to his knees in front of you.

“I–” you begin, unsure of what to do.

“I want you to watch,” the General whispers, looking up at you in the same way an acolyte may look up at a temple. “I want you to see me.”

Slowly, cautiously, as if he’s afraid of spooking you, he guides your legs open until you’re splayed out in front of him. You would be embarrassed, but for the hungry look in his eyes, how his chest seems to heave in anticipation, and the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips as if he’s about to enjoy a feast.

When he leans forward, his mouth moving toward you, you gasp and stiffen, and he pauses.

“Trust me,” he soothes. “It will feel good, I promise.”

You swallow thickly and relax again, watching as Marcus comes even closer, until he’s able to press a kiss right on–

“Oh,” you whimper softly.

Emboldened, he angles his mouth against you and licks. The sensation of his tongue through your folds causes you to collapse backwards on your elbows, your head falling back and your eyes closing as you gasp toward the ceiling.

“Watch,” Marcus reminds you.

With you half-sprawled on the bed, your legs fall open even further and his hands wind underneath your hips as he pulls you even closer onto his mouth. His tongue, his lips… oh, it’s so decadent; you’ve never felt pleasure like this by your own hand. He thrusts his tongue into you, and you can only whine and babble wordlessly, your eyes wide as you dutifully watch him please you. He alternates between these deep, overwhelming strokes of his tongue and little licks right on the little bundle of nerves above, back and forth, back and forth until your entire body shakes.

“Exquisite,” Marcus rasps, his voice rough with exertion and pleasure. His lips close around you and he sucks gently, and the fire within you burns until it reaches a crescendo, until finally, you fall.

“Bellatora.” The endearment is laden with affection, and when you slowly blink your eyes open, the General is smiling down at you. “Are you with me, mi bellatora?”

You giggle. “I think so.”

He must have disrobed while your eyes were closed; you stare at his slightly golden chest, at the light dusting of hair and freckles, and further down, where–

Oh, Gods.

Marcus hangs thick, heavy, and proud, and you swallow in trepidation at the thought of all of that inside you.

“Don't look at that; look at me.” The words are soothing, but tinged with humor, and you can see the mirth sparkling in his eyes when you do as he asks and look at him.

“Let us just lie down together,” he says, smiling. “Nothing more.”

You scoot up until your head rests against the pillows, and Marcus crawls over you with a smirk, pressing little kisses up your body as he goes, until he lies down beside you and pulls you into his arms.

With your back against his chest, you can't exactly forget about the hard length of him, as it's currently pressing insistently against you. You wiggle, arching your back and trying to soothe the empty ache that still seems to reside within you.

“Feeling greedy, mi bellatora?”

You whine softly and push back against him harder. His arms are wrapped around you, but somehow, it’s still not enough. You want him everywhere, you need everything.

“What have you done to me?” you laugh softly.

“Nothing you have not also done to me,” Marcus murmurs, nipping your shoulder playfully.

“I have done nothing,” you say airily, leaning further back into his embrace.

“Oh, you have,” he growls. “You have invaded my quarters–”

“That is hardly my doing–”

“–and shortly after, invaded my heart,” Marcus continues, ignoring your interruption. “You have made me crave as I never have before.”

“You have made me feel the same,” you whisper. “I have never… felt anything like this before.”

“Mi bellatora,” he breathes against your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine.

“Do not be cruel.”

“Cruel?”

“You are denying me.”

At your playful accusation, Marcus suddenly shifts, rising up from beside you and pinning you to the bed with his body. “And it is taking the effort of every bone in my body, more challenging than all twelve labors of Hercules.”

“Then stop,” you tell him softly, reaching up to palm his cheek. “Stop denying us what we both want.”

Rather than answer, the General lowers his mouth to yours.

Kissing might be your new favorite thing–you thought the feel of Marcus’s lips was the most perfect thing you’d ever felt when he kissed you in the alleyway, but here, in his bed, with the weight of his body pressing deliciously down on you, his kisses feel even more profound. His hips roll gently against you, and you instinctively wrap one leg around his thigh to try and relieve your desire for more friction.

The action causes Marcus to groan and bury his face in your neck, his light beard scraping against your skin. Your hips cant upward unconsciously, and the skin of his cock catches and rubs against your folds.

With a little moan, you press against him harder, wanting more, more–

“Bellatora,” Marcus groans. He props himself on one elbow over you, spits on the other hand and rubs the wetness onto the head of his cock. He repeats the motion again, and then gently rubs the remainder onto you, making you arch back with a surprised gasp.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs. “It’ll be easier like this.”

He lines up the thick head of him with your entrance and pushes the tip in ever so slightly. Your eyes widen as you feel him, your mouth falling open as you stare up at him in awe.

“That’s it, just look at me,” Marcus murmurs. “Just keep looking at me.”

His face is so close to yours that your breaths mingle as he slowly slides in. You expect it to hurt, but you’re so soaked from his earlier attentions that it’s almost easy for him, at first. When he’s only about halfway in, though, you start to feel unbearably full–too full–and it makes you whimper softly and squirm against him.

“Breathe for me,” Marcus reminds you. “Breathe, mi bellatora.”

In between more kisses and soft praises, he pushes forward, bit by bit, until you can feel his body fully pressing against your core.

“Oh,” you whisper, smiling shakily. “I can feel you.”

Marcus chuckles. “And I, you.”

He stays just there, unmoving, stroking your face, until you begin to squirm with impatience again.

“I don’t want to hurt you, bellatora,” he says softly. “Please, love, tell me if I do.”

You nod, wide-eyed and enraptured by the feeling of being utterly filled. With one last gently kiss to your cheekbone, Marcus carefully begins to move. His cock drags slowly back and forth against your walls, and each time he buries himself to the hilt once again, it sends sparks of pleasure all over your body.

Your exhales turn high and breathy, little whimpers and gasps escaping every time Marcus reaches the end of you. You cling to his shoulders, the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his curls, eliciting a deep groan and a change in the rhythm of his thrusts as he gains confidence that you aren’t in any pain.

The faster Marcus’s hips move, the more it seems to send you into a frenzy. Your legs wrap around his hips and your grip on his upper body tightens as the fire within you starts to build again.

Your lips seek any available skin they can find, pressing open-mouthed against his jaw, his neck, his upper arm, anywhere you can reach. One of Marcus’s hands gently cups the back of your neck for leverage as he grinds against you; the other wanders up and down your body–gripping your hip, squeezing your breast and pressing his thumb against your nipple, stroking your cheek as he kisses you again and again.

His kisses become more and more messy and frenetic as he loses himself in the pleasure of your body. He pants softly, his voice catching on every exhale, quiet little noises deep in his throat that only you can hear.

Your bodies move seamlessly together, aided by the light sheen of sweat that beads on your skin. Marcus hand slips in between you, his fingers finding the little bundle of nerves and gently rubbing circles into the skin there.

“Oh, I–I–” you whimper brokenly, drunk on the sensations of pleasure that he’s pulling from your body. “M-Ma–”

“Say it,” he rasps in your ear. “Please, bellatora.”

“Marcus,” you manage to gasp.

“Again.”

“M-Marcus, Marcus, oh Gods, I–”

Your body arches off the bed as the strongest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt courses through you. You convulse against him, hands scrabbling for a hold on his broad shoulders, gripping him for dear life as though he is the only thing keeping you from being pulled under by the waves.

Your cries reach a crescendo and Marcus gives you everything–his hips snapping roughly against you as your core continues to flutter weakly. Finally, when your body feels boneless and the fullness of him begins to ache, his thrusts falter and he finally stills, his cock twitching inside of you as he finishes.

He slips out, frowning slightly with concern when you wince, but continues to hover over you, his eyes sweeping over your face as your breathing slows and your heart quietens. He stays there, stroking your hair and kissing you until his shoulders start to shake with the effort of holding himself over you.

You fall asleep tangled together, safe and warm in Marcus’s arms.

[Several moons later]

“Must we really go?” you wheedle as you watch the General fiddle with the clasp on his ceremonial robes.

“It is the most effective way to make our little statement, bellatora.”

You cross your arms and make a show of pouting, although you know Marcus is right. You raise your arms, which are currently holding half of an unfinished braid. “Help me with my hair?”

Marcus sighs loudly, although you know that, like your feigned petulance, it’s also an act. He takes the braid from you and finishes it before moving to the next section, plaiting it together the way he knows you like.

“Tell me the statement again.”

He huffs. “You just like hearing me say it.”

“Yes.”

“An act against one of us is an act against both of us,” he murmurs dutifully. “And tantamount to an act of war, to be met with a swift and disproportionate response.”

“You always say that–‘disproportionate response.’ I do not understand what you mean by it.”

“Mmm. An opposing force sends one arrow into my army, I send one back. Proportionate response. Someone sends an arrow into my army, and I reign fire from the sky, burn every building to the ground, kill every citizen and remove them from every map. Disproportionate response.” Marcus finishes your hair and gently drapes the long braid over your shoulder.

“If ever you ask why I was scared of you when first we met, I will refer to you to that statement,” you say wryly.

“You did ask, mi bellatora.” He picks up a belt and scabbard–similar to his, but smaller, more delicate, and ornate. He fastens it around your waist, cinching your dress and making you feel not only more alluring, but powerful.

You do a little twirl and turn to him. “Do I look like the consort of an esteemed General?”

Marcus leans in and gently captures your lips with his. “You look like so much more. Now let us go into this den of wolves.”

With your head held high, you walk proudly through the halls at the General’s side, your hand tucked neatly against the crook of his elbow, until you reach the banquet hall, where the Emperor is holding a great feast. In your wildest imagination, you cannot think of a single place you want to avoid more, but you hold Marcus’s earlier promise in your mind as the heads turn to look at your entrance.

This is the last time.

The Emperor, surrounded by his entourage, raises his glass with a shout and a laugh as he sees the two of you. “The good General,” he grins wolfishly.

“Taking his little plaything out for a walk,” one of the other men sneer.

“Letting his little pet out of its cage,” adds another, snickering.

Calmly, you unsheath the beautiful, ceremonial dagger that Marcus had given you as a gift and hold it at your side, just as he’d told you. A powerful warrior does not brandish their weapon or wave it under people’s noses, he had said. A powerful warrior does not need to. They simply remind their enemies that the weapon is there.

“You disrespect me,” you say, keeping your face even and your eyes stern. “And you disrespect my husband.”

Silence falls around the room. The Emperor’s men look at each other, to Marcus, and back to you again, unsure of how to respond. Finally, one of them laughs loudly.

“General Acacius is going soft,” he cackles. “Letting his little toy play pretend that she’s the wife of a noble.”

You fight to keep your expression free of malice or hurt, continuing to face them down calmly, your sword resting at your side.

“Your gift to the General was far more valuable than you knew,” you say evenly, speaking only to the Emperor. “My family’s debt is paid in full, and I am therefore free to leave the palace at my leisure.”

The Emperor of Rome stares at you with befuddlement, his eyes wide, seemingly completely at a loss for words.

“We take our leave,” you announce with a flourish of a bow.

“Leave?” The man sputters. “You are my finest General, you cannot–”

“I have given the Empire more than my fair share of years in service,” Marcus says quietly, standing resolutely next to you and placing his hand around your waist. “I find I have seen all I care to see of war, and the rest of my days will be filled with peace.”

Marcus turns to the other generals, who are all watching the confrontation with the Emperor. Without speaking, they draw their swords and hold them aloft in a silent salute to your husband–who solemnly returns the gesture. As you are still holding your dagger, you copy the gesture. This seems to please both him and the other Generals, who all smile.

Marcus turns to you, beaming with affection and pride. “Let’s go home, bellatora.”

Epilogue

In a small hamlet south of the big city, a villa sits on a small hill overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea.

There is a rumor among some of the residents of the town that the man who lives there used to be a General in the Emperor’s army, but most of the inhabitants agree that this is a ridiculous notion.

He’s too soft-spoken, you see; his gentle demeanor is unlike that of a soldier. He often likes to sit with his wife and watch the color of the sea change as the sun rises in the morning, savoring the moment of peace before his children wake up.

There are five of them now–with a sixth on the way. His wife jokes that should she find herself with child for the seventh time, she’s going to feed the man’s privates to their goats.

Their life is modest, but by all accounts of those who witness it, they are blissfully happy. Their home always seems to be filled with joy, laughter, and no small amount of chaos that always follows young children. They maintain a small farm, raise goats and chickens, and they sell their extra eggs and vegetables at the market every week, accompanied by their five children, who are helpful… to varying degrees.

Sometimes, late at night, the odd passer-by will see the silhouette of a couple standing on the cliffs overlooking the sea, wrapped in a tender embrace.

They have few visitors, but those who have been inside their villa have noted that two swords are mounted above the front door. One is large, utilitarian, but expertly crafted–with signs of wear that might indicate it has seen more conflict than most. The other is small and elegant, the hilt decorated with precious stones.

No one has ever dared to ask about them.

#marcus acacius #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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flkwh0re · 4 months ago

Text

Caught

Pairings: Stepsis! Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of age gap (Legal), Getting caught??, Oral (W Receiving), Strap-on usage (R Receiving), Bondage (Nat being tied), Overstimulation (R Receiving), whatever it would be called bc Nat was forced to watch while being tied up 😭

Word count: 1.4k

Authors Note: All tho I haven’t reached 900 followers yet I wanna go on and put this out, enjoy!! 😭

The days of summer break were coming to an end, it was close to time for you to return back to your college dorm after spending the last few weeks with your family. You came home unexpectedly one day to surprise your mom and step father. To your surprise your step sister, Wanda, had the exact idea.

Wanda and you never got along, probably considering you never had much time to connect before she was off to college later followed by you. Wanda wasn't much older than you, but the age gap was enough to cause conflict when she came around while you still stayed with your parents.

During the few years you were both in high school, her friend Natasha and her would torment you during that time. You always figured it was normal rivalry, but Wanda held a much deeper secret. Even after high school Natasha stayed super close with Wanda, the two would always be together. Including those visits Wanda made.

Natasha always had a softer side for you. She often pitied you during Wanda's torments, asking the girl to be gentler on you which Wanda would combat with a teasing manner.

"Hey." Called out by Nat's soft tone as she crept into your room. "Oh hey Nat, why aren't you with Wanda?" She leaned against the back of your door once she closed it, "She's asleep, and I'm bored."

You sat upright, patting the space next to you inviting the older woman to come sit with you on your bed. After a comfortable silence Nat spoke out, "How's college been treating you? I missed you last summer, isn't this your second year?" You nod, "Yea, and it's been fine. Nothing interesting but you know."

Nat and you spend a good while talking with each other, really enjoying each other's company then her mannerisms change. "You've really grown a lot, since you've graduated you know. Two years isn't much but, you're really pretty." Nat's words cause a blush to creep on your cheeks, you hope the soft light of your lamp doesn't amplify it.

"It's rude to ignore compliments sweetheart." She says with a smug little smile, letting out a giggle which you return. She scoots closer to you and before you know it her lips are on yours.

The two of you share a heated moment, your lips passionately latching onto one another. Natasha's hands roam along your body, groping at your curves and pulling your body closer to hers. What you hadn't noticed was during your intimate moment with Nat, Wanda had snuck in.

"Ahem." She said loud enough to finally catch your attention. "What is going on here?" She said in a condescending tone. Natasha tried to quickly shut down what Wanda had just witnessed but she paid no mind to her friend's pleas.

"Y/n, wanna tell me why my best friend is here swapping spit with you?" You were confused about her tone, you'd assumed she'd sound more mad if she was. She almost sounded like she enjoyed it.

"We were just caught up in the moment, it's late, we're tired and we were having a conversation and we just.. kissed." Wanda chuckled, as if she was enjoying this. You and Natasha had been sharing worried looks during this whole very weird interaction.

"Oh you two are so pretty when you lie!" Wanda strutted over to the bed, the short skimpy shorts she wore made you feel hot. "Oh what will I do with you two." She paused. "I know, Nat come here." Natasha stood and made her way to Wanda. To your shared surprise she let her to the chair that sat in the corner of your room, and tied the woman's hands together.

"Wanda, what are you doing?" The older woman asked. "You'll see, be patient." Wanda made her way back to where you sat, "Now I want you to be my good girl and do exactly as I say, got it?" Your head shook in an eager nod of approval. "So desperate."

Her lips pressed against yours, her tongue slipped past your lips quickly and danced along with yours. Wanda's pretty moans filled your ears, along with Natasha's whines as she desperately wanted to be with the two of you.

"I want you to eat me out, if you make me cum to my satisfaction I'll reward you. Mkay?" You nod, "That won't do, I need your words baby." Wanda reprimanded. "Y-yes ma'am." Wanda chuckled, "I like that, now get on your knees."

You instantly dropped to your knees, Wanda made a show of her stripping out of her arousal soaked shorts which she tossed onto Natasha's lap. You made no waste of time by diving straight into pleasing Wanda.

Her hands tugged on your hair, and pushed your face closer to her core. Your tongue worked like magic on her clit like your life depended on it, like it was what you were made to do. "Fuck baby! You're being such a good girl, making me feel so good.. oh god!"

Natasha continued to squirm in her seat, itching to be able to touch you. "Please Wanda, untie my hands." Though for poor Natasha, Wanda was only able to focus on the assault your tongue was causing on her. Loud moans and praises slip past her lips, pushing you into a state where you only want to be there to please her.

"Fuck pretty girl, I'm gonna cum! Can you make me cum? Please be a good girl and make me cum." Before you knew it Wanda was cuming, her hand tightly gripping your hair tugging slightly.

"Did I do good?" You asked hesitantly, "So good baby, get on the bed." You did as she said and watched her rummage around your room, until she came across the strap you had stored away. You were unsure of how she knew where you had that stored, but you didn't question her fearing you may end up in Natasha's place.

"I want you to ride me, ride me till I have to take control." She demanded. Your already soaked pussy from your session with Nat didn't require any effort from Wanda, so she quickly got your settling down on her strap.

Your hands propped themselves on her chest, trying your best to hold yourself up. "Go on, move your hips baby." With her request you began to bounce on the woman's strap, taking a moment to adjust. Soon enough you had a steady pace, as so did the subtle movements of Wanda's hips.

Her hands ran across your body, groping at your tits. "Fuck you're so perfect, I can't believe I've waited this long." She groaned out, eyes scanning all up and down your body.

"P-please I can't keep myself up anymore." You whined as you struggled to keep your arms from going limp. "Keep going pretty girl, you're doing so good." Wanda praised, but she knew she'd have to take over soon. Your hip movement became sloppy, even Nat grew worried.

Wanda eventually took over and flipped you to your stomach, propping up your knees for easier access. She slipped her strap back into you, thrusting the silicone toy into you at a brutal pace. Your whines filled the air, the only noise you were even able to get out.

"Fuck baby, you look so pretty like this. All fucked out over me, so ruined because of me." Wanda teased, as her hand came firmly down on your ass also eliciting a whine from you.

Natasha's empathetic side came out for you in the moment, watching as Wanda used your body. "Wanda be gentle!" Which Wanda dismissed, as her pace quickened. "Fuck you're so hot, you can't even think about anything but me. Did I fuck Nat out of your mind, hm?" Wanda said clearly to get a reaction out of Nat.

"Wans.. 'm gon- cum." Your barely eligible words made the older girl laugh, "Beg pretty girl, beg me to cum." More whines came from you before you mustered up the ability to make out a coherent sentence. "Wands, please! L-let me cum, 'm gonna cum I can't hold it pl-please."

"Go on, cum pretty girl." With her demand you did, and you came hard. “Good girl, you did so good.” Wanda placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, slowly removing the strap from you as to not hurt you. She scooped you up and readjusted your body under the covers, then placed a soft kiss on your tired face.

“Wanda please undo me.” Natasha finally said, breaking the silence. Wanda laughed, “Who said I was done with you?”

MASTERLIST

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simpee9000 · 3 months ago

Note

I love your “not just friends” series🥹 im obsessed! Im hoping to see more I love it soooooooooooo muchhhh!!!!!!! Even telling my friends to read it

But I saw a bakugo headcanon by another anon about him having a crush which I wanna add a spin on, what if he rejected this said crush back in middle school but developed feelings after xD I find it funny

Thank you !!! I'm glad you enjoy it so much!

And that is literally Katsuki Bakugo, can't see him not doing it tbh. (This was also a lot longer then I planned for it to be- I just started typing and here we are- 1k)

He isn't confused about a lot of things in life but his feelings definitely stump him. He tries to analyze other people and how they react to people, but the dots just don't connect. He hears people rave on and on about how cute their crush is, but he just doesn't get it.

It's not that he hasn't been introduced to it either. I mean, it's middle school. Everyone is crazy about dating someone even if it's just to hold their stupid hand. Bakugo didn't get it, he honestly didn't want to get it. Sure he wanted to understand it, but only so he could know a weakness or some shit. He didn't want the gushy feelings or anything such.

Rejecting girl after girl was normal for him, people just loved how great he was. But after the first year of middle school that stopped. Mainly because of how rudely he rejected every girl in the past, but also because of you.

You got extremely close with him rather quickly, working your way into his life and friend groups. It was rare to see you away from each other.

Yet when you confessed to him in your last year of middle school, he stood still. It was the only confession he hesitated on. And while you swayed on your feet, anxious for a reply, he tried to cough up any words possible.

But the only ones that came out were. "You're not special."

In the most blunt way possible, he crushed your dreams. With the way he was looking at you, it was like he couldn't fathom the thought that you thought you were good enough for him, different than all the other girls. So you choked up any spiteful things you wanted to say and nodded before walking off.

He didn't necessarily like you then, but the thought didn't seems gross. So when he watched you walk away, he shrugged it off. You'd talk to him tomorrow definitely.

When tomorrow came and went, he was waiting for you to show up by his side at any second. But of course, you never did. You waited a day before showing up to class, but when you did you stuck near your other friends.

It stayed that way too. You only nodded at him after you finished middle school, a small final goodbye.

So it was rather unfortunate that one of your friends happened to be Izuku. It was a hard-built friendship, but he's very forgiving.

You came and visited the dorms often, encouraged by his mother to help him get by easier.

Bakugo hated it, you never even looked his way.

When he googled his feelings he didn't want to believe the words typed on his screen. It was all saying he was jealous. He'd never been jealous of anything, especially nothing Deku had.

Eventually, Kirishima pointed it out, commenting on the glare he was giving Midoriya. He also called him out the next day, when he kept glaring despite you not being there.

The day he cracked was after he fought Deku, after being yelled out by Aizawa he and Deku were told to wait.

Bakugo mentioned your name in a mumble at first before Deku questioned it. "She like you or some shit?"

"What?!"

"You fuckin' heard me," he spat back.

"No!" Deku scrambled for a reason. He knew you had a crush on Bakugo before, but you haven't mentioned it in a while, "Do you?"

"Do I like you?!"

"NO! HER!"

Bakugo's aggression faded as he thought. Everyone was saying that. Kirishima, his dad, and now Deku. He gave a small shrug because he was unsure.

"She still asks about you," Deku decided to say, rather than poke the bear.

"Hm."

"Wanting to know if you're okay. After the sludge, and after.. well you know," Deku mumbled.

The door opened before anything else could be said, but even if it didn't, they both knew the conversation was over.

Feeling the commonly named butterflies in his stomach, at just the thought of you thinking of him still, was odd. It was an entirely new feeling. After googling, once again, he came to terms with the fact that he finally felt all the gushy feelings that everyone else got in middle school. The ones you used to have for him, hopefully still do.

He still waited a year to act on his conclusion first. But he still slowly tried to weave his way back into your life. Choosing to sit next to you when you visited, to othering you the remote.

Everything was without words for a while. Almost a year in he was forced to talk to you often. All conversations being awkward and strained.

Confessing was a different story, it was the last day you could visit before it was officially summer break before the second year. Everyone was all sat around watching TV, people leaving before they got too tired. Surprisingly, Bakugo and you were the last people in the living room. He didn't want to miss a second of your presence because he knew he couldn't see you during summer. He was so glad Aizawa let you stay late.

His head snapped away from the TV when you stretched to stand, silently grabbing your stuff.

"What are you doing?" he spoke before thinking.

You looked stunned, he never talked to you without you talking first, "It's late, I should go. Plus is it not past your bedtime?"

He glared at your joke before looking at the clock. It was 2:54a.m, you asked him out at 2:54 p.m in middle school.

"Do you still?"

"What?" you switched your weight onto one foot, crossing your arms confused.

"In middle school," he sighed, "do you still?"

"You're gonna have to be more specific."

"Have feelings and shit."

He still wasn't looking at you, but out of the corner of his eyes, he could see how you froze.

"I don't know how that's relevant," you huffed, embarrassed and annoyed that he'd be so cruel to bring up the rejection again.

"I do."

"Do what? Know how it's relevent? Of course you do, it's your brain-"

"Have feelings and shit," he mumbled, crossing his arms at how irated you sounded. He was finally making his move and you seemed pissed as hell.

You barked out a laugh, muffling it with your own hand, "You can't think I'm that stupid, right?"

"I'm being serious," he looked at you straight on for the first time. He was always easiest to read when you could see his eyes, and he looked nervous. Out of all the emotions you've seen on him, this wasn't one.

"Oh."

He sighed and looked down, "Don't gotta say anything, you can spend the night in the common room. No one will care," he pushed himself off the couch, turning to leave.

"Bakugo," you called out softly.

"Hm?"

"I might," your voice was shaky, "but I need to think about it. Know that you're not fucking with me or something."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. Take your time. You have my number."

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the-monstermash · 3 months ago

Text

UNBROKEN BETROTHALS pt. 2

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language

Word Count: 3,754

A/N: I’ve been contemplating cutting this into two parts all day, but fuck it we die like men

The next moons were spent silently. Perhaps the entire situation had blown over, with Aemond taking the refusal as it was, and moving on to the next, or perhaps staying with Sylvi. Maybe that was for the best, as it would keep all the other girls housed.

The brothel had been closed for the day, the recent event had been enough for many businesses to close their doors. A war had been declared with the murder or Jehaerys, and with the dragons looming in the sky, it promised to be bloody. Of course, special allowances were made for soldiers and high-born, a back alley entrance just as suiting as a grand one when desperation calls.

Today was particularly slow, many lords stuck in meetings and soldiers in training yards. The girls took to mostly laying around, sipping wine and eating cheeses while they joked and told old stories.

"Where would you be, if not here in this brothel? If you'd taken a different path, made a different decision, what would you be doing right now?" Someone had asked, and after a contemplative silence, finally people began to speak up.

"In another brothel, perhaps." Earned many laughs.

"I'd be married to some disgusting old man, I'm sure of it. Fucked full of halfwit babes and barely surviving." You'd spoken up. "I heard my parent arguing in the night about a proposal they'd received from King's Landing. I knew it must've been some old Lord, looking to perverse himself on a young girl. That was the night I'd left."

"You ran to King's Landing to escape a life in King's Landing?" Maria questioned flatly.

"It was the last place I thought they'd look. And if they did look, they'd never find me, hidden in a whore house." The girls laughed and shared their own answers before moving on to a new topic.

The conversation was cut briefly to a halt when the door was heard slamming shut. All heads turned in time to see the curtain move and reveal none other than Prince Aemond himself. His eye scanned the room silently, lingering a moment more when he found me. I turned away and sighed, looking to the ground. Another girl jumped up and quickly ran to fetch Sylvi.

"Your highness, we did not expect your patronage this evening." Lauryn spoke up, laid on her side on one of the sofas we all surrounded. Mischief twinkled in her eyes as she met your gaze for a second before looking back to him. "Have you come for Sylvi? Or have you come for something...fresh." The other girls giggled. "New, perhaps? I would be more than happy to make a suggestion."

"Girls, do not tease our prince. It's very rude." A girl sighed and shook her head. "Will you please show Prince Aemond to Sylvi's rooms?"

The room fell silent as everyone looked to me. To refuse in front of him could be seen as disrespectful, and in a time of such uncertainty with the royal family, it would not do to test his standing. Especially with the almost forgotten history between you, that you would much rather pretend doesn't exist. If you were the one to guide him to Sylvi's room, however, it would not bode well with her.

"I think Lina had gone to fetch her, she should be here any moment." Maria spoke up, sensing your discomfort.

"I require her now, I do not have much time." Aemond finally spoke, hands clipped behind his back, and eyes unwavering. "Take me to her."

You sighed and moved to stand, dusting your hands off on your thighs and giving the girls a lasting glare that had them avoiding eye contact.

"Your highness." You mumbled as you passed him and headed towards the hallway. You did not hear him follow you, but you felt his presence, and gaze, burning into your back. You were quick to make your way to Sylvi's room, knocking and announcing your visitor.

"Surely she is here, I do not remember her mentioning any errands." You turned at her knob, to find it locked, a sure sign that she was out at the moment.

You were alone with him much to your chagrin, and his pleasure, you were sure. It had almost seemed like a setup, if not for the impossibility that Sylvi would ever agree to it. You had to admit, it was all rather flattering, the feeling of his eyes trailing your body in desire, but you could not entertain him.

"She is not in, your grace. I can leave a message for you, or I can see to her whereabouts, if the matter is urgent." You turned around to him, but did not look him in the eye, not wanting him to see anything more in your gaze than there was.

He was silent, looking at the door as if expecting Sylvi to manifest at any moment. Your eyes began darting about the hallway, looking for an out so you could get away from him and go about your business, particularly somewhere with witnesses.

"Your highness." You murmured the words to remind him of where you were, standing in a hallway in complete silence with no task at hand, and no end in sight. He still did not respond, only not he stared at your face, his eyes soft, but unnerving all the same.

"If you'll excuse me." you moved to pass him, but he grabbed your arm and placed himself in front of the exit, blocking you from leaving.

The action stirred something in you, though you weren't sure if it was fear or desire. Aemond was handsome, you had to admit, but knowing who he was and what desiring him would mean for you was enough to swallow and pull away from him.

"I require refreshment."

"I'll have wine brought to you, would you like a room?"

"I'll take it in the kitchen, thank you."

A chill ran down your back at the thought of him, gracing your kitchen once again with his daunting presence, looming over your home and your peace. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, moving to pass him again, this time he allowed and followed you. When we passed the girls again, Maria watched with a hawk's eye, and sensing the tension, rose to follow us to the kitchen, the savior she is. You fetched the wine for him, and some bread and cheeses, dressing a small tray for him to enjoy and setting it at the table.

He drank and pecked at the food, slowly savoring each bite, his eyes flickering to Maria every now and then, before returning in your direction. You could tell her presence bothered him, even if he did not say it. He could've ordered her out of the room, if he'd wished to. In truth, he could've ordered you to sleep with him if he'd wished to, but he didn't. Instead, he ate, and looked at the two of you, one with longing, and the other distaste.

"I was sad to hear about your nephew, Prince Aemond." Maria addressed him politely, likely attempting to lighten the tension in the room. She did not take on her same even, monotonous tone that she used with the girls. Instead, she purposefully lightened her voice and spoke with grace and propriety.

"Yes, as was I."

"They were there looking for me. I feel an immense guilt for it, knowing if they'd found me first, he would still be here."

The admission was surprising to the both of you. How did one respond to such a personal statement. Maria was better versed with loss, having mourned her mother and been separated from her siblings when her father sold her to Sylvi. But still, she did not respond, only looking at him with a pitying look before chewing her cheek and looking away. He looked sad, and that look did not suit him. You wanted to comfort him, to reach out and pet his snowy hair, but instead you refrained.

"I attended his funeral march. He was a beautiful boy, and he looked very sweet."

He reached out to grab my hand, and pressed a light kiss on the back of it, rendering me speechless.

"What will we have for dinner tonight?" Maria broke the silence, addressing only you.

"Likely bread and broth, we are low on meat with the war. I'm sure Sylvi will want to save it for working nights." You took your hand lightly from the prince to turn more fully towards Maria.

"Are you not well rationed for the war?" Aemond spoke up, if you could call it that. His voice was low, as seemed to be the standard for him.

"With the soldiers coming in, all the meat is sent to the castle, and what little we get is three times what it's worth. Those who can afford it are hoarding it away."

"I can have pigs sent from the castle." He spoke with finality, as if there was no discussion about it.

"I'm sure Sylvi is managing it. She likely is out now, fetching more food for us." Maria answered for me, but he waited for me to answer, acting as if he hadn't heard Maria speak. "Times are hard us smallfolk."

"We are well, my prince. Sylvi takes care of us." You agreed, and turned away from him, busying yourself with small meaningless tasks that were obviously a ruse to get out of the conversation with him. He moved to speak, but was interrupted by one of the girls bursting into the kitchen

"Sylvi has returned, your highness. You wished to see her?"

"I'll find her myself, thank you." He stood to leave, and left us in silence.

Aemond did return on the morrow, with men in tow with meat and fresh ingredients. They loaded up the kitchen to your specifications, Aemond overseeing the entire thing, standing as close as you would allow and stealing glances to watch for your reaction.

"We've not had food so fresh for many moons, my prince, I cannot thank you enough." You curtseyed to him, imagining all the possible meals for the girls. A few girls lingered in the kitchen as well, clearly pleased with the food, but especially with the men who delivered it, who they ogled and catcalled openly. The men were obviously intrigued by the girls, many not having the chance to visit in a while. The tensions were clearly rising in the small kitchen, and it was quickly overwhelming your space.

"Please, put the flour bags on the floor, so I can scoop it out without lifting." You attempted to break the heat in the room, Aemond's eye shooting to you at the sound of your voice.

Aemond seemed to sense your anxiety, because he spoke up and dismissed the men, with confirmation that you could manage the rest. The men quickly left, and the girls followed in pursuit.

"I truly cannot express my gratitude." You turned away from him to begin putting away the last few boxes of food.

"If the whores are well fed, they work better for the men. It keeps morale high." He explained, stepping with you around the kitchen. "And it made you happy, so I am happy to do it."

That rendered you silent, and you resigned to swallow and nod.

"I'm sure you know by now that I spoke to Sylvi about you." You winced at the prospect of the turn this would take, now that you were all alone with him and no Maria to mediate. "She said you do not..." He let the sentence die. "Are you a maiden?"

You shot around to look at him, surprised by his boldness. He was a prince, however, and the blood of the dragon. Boldness was his very being, so it should only have surprised you that it took so long for him to make his intentions more public. Turning back to the food, you gave a timid nod, knowing that he would not let the question go unanswered.

"And you are resigned to cook for the rest of your life? For whores?" You scoffed, turning back to your tasks and refusing to meet his eyes again.

"These girls are my family. Sylvi..." Your heart stuttered just at her name. The though of her knowing you were there, alone with the man who'd announced his desire to her so plainly. "Sylvi gave me a home when I needed one, she took me in when I was lost in a foreign place. I owe her my life, and she only asks that I earn my own way. I am lucky that I can provide food, and not what so many have to sacrifice."

"My family have forsaken me in many ways as well."

"Your family put you in a castle, on a dragon, feared by any man you come across. It is not the same, my prince." He was silent at that. "And my family did not forsake me, I left them."

"Why would you do that? Did they mistreat you?"

"Not particularly, no. I just didn't find happiness in the Riverlands, and I didn't want to spend my life there."

"You're from the Riverlands." He nodded, as if committing the information to memory. "Sylvi doesn't have to know." His unrelenting bargaining was quickly running sour with you.

"So that's what this is about? You've brought food to win my favor?" You turned around to find him much closer than you had anticipated, looming over you and trapping you against the table. You pressed your hands to the edge to brace yourself, and his eyes flickered to the motion before looking into your eyes.

"I do not like the thought of you unsatisfied. Hungry with no way to satiate your needs." The double meaning was not lost on you, and the words admittedly did something to your body that you did *not* expect.

"I have always managed."

"I can give you more. And I'll ask you for so little." He ducked his head down towards your face now, his voice lowering into a husky drawl that made your mouth fall open.

The desire was there, you could not deny. But there was too much hanging in the balance, too much at stake. Your home, your pride, the only semblance of family you'd ever had. And this was one of the few things you had left that was truly yours. You had your maidenhood, and you had control over who would have it. What good could it possible do to throw it all away just to fill the whims of some spoiled prince? No matter how handsome that prince may be.

"You ask for everything." You closed your eyes and turned your face away from him, unable to breath in his scent any longer. "And I cannot give you what you want at the risk of all I have-" His lips were on yours before you could turn away from him, and his hands were on your hips, pulling you to him.

You tried your best to pull away, whimpering into his mouth and pushing against him. Your hands found his chest and you pushed your upper body away, which only served to push your hips further into his, against the hardness he now sported and gladly rubbed against you. When he seemed satisfied with your kiss, he pulled away, moving to kiss at your jaw and neck.

"Stop." You were breathless and still pulling from him, but he was not hearing. "My prince, someone could hear!" He finally relented, ceasing his kisses but still holding you to him.

"I'm not here as your prince. Call me Aemond."

"I cannot, your highness. You must leave now, please." Your pleas went ignored. "You will ruin everything!"

"I will give you anything. Name it and it's yours, I swear." You sighed, shaking your head.

"I don't understand why you can't choose another. There are women here in excess. Exotic, talented beauties that will do anything you ask for."

"Have you not been listening to me? I am not some cunt-drunken fool, I want you." His declaration struck you dumb, and you jerked back at his admission.

This was somehow worse than if it'd just been some lust-driven obsession, the thought of him imagining a life with you or all people. You, the lover of a prince. Would you move to the castle? Become a mistress? A wife? Impossible, the crown would never allow it. Sylvi would have your head for it. If the thought of you fucking him had her so bristled, the thought of him loving you would raise her hackles. It was what finally gave you the strength to squeeze past him, still awestruck by what he'd just said, and in desperate need of distance.

"And what would that be like? I'd be a mistress to you? Would we have little half blood babies, with half a claim to the iron throne, and I spend my life worrying for their safety?"

"I would bring you to the Keep, and plead my case to my brother. I am his blood, he would not deny me a wife of my choosing." You scoff in disbelief and put your hand over your chest, sitting against the table again for support.

"You've lost your mind." You shook your head.

"Let me ask my brother. If he says yes, will you come with me?" His voice was desperate and low. A certain vulnerability hid in his eye, and he pressed himself to you once more, though this time in search of comfort instead of relief.

In truth, it would be a better life then you could ever have here. You would dine on food you did not prepare, and drink wine from foreign countries and wear dresses of the finest material, instead of the itchy rags you tolerated now. And more importantly, Aemond seamed sure in his love for you. It was quick, to be sure, and without much to sustain, but you could always relish in the idea of a man's devotions. Especially someone as powerful as Aemond. Not all marriages were born of love. Most were convenient, and you could always grow to love, if you both nurtured the relationship and allowed it to grow.

But wasn't that the very thing you'd ran away from? To dishonor your family as you'd done, and then turn around and do the very thing they'd asked of you? How could you justify it? Marrying a prince would certainly put you back on their radar. If they found you again, what could you say for yourself? That it was different, because it wasn't their decision? It would break their heart, and likely yours as well.

"It would not matter, I'm afraid. I cannot marry you for my own reasons, and there's simply nothing that can change the circumstances." Distancing yourself from him was hard, and seeing the downtrodden look quickly pass his face was harder.

He collected himself, cleared his throat and returned to the same look he'd first given you. Looking down his nose, hands clasped behind his back, eye staring through you.

"You are a foolish girl." His statement shot a look of surprise to your face. "You do not know what is best for you. You ran from the Riverlands at the idea of a proposal that would have given you stability and a title, because you were too stubborn to accept a marriage you did not choose, and you do the same now."

"How dare you? You know nothing of my situation-"

"I know well enough about you to know that you are incapable of making beneficial decisions. I've allowed your adventures and you've lived your life, it is time for you to grow up and be my wife as you were meant to be."

Oh.

The silence was disastrous. You could only look at him with wide eyes, though you could not see him. You were back to that night, the last time you'd seen your family. Listening from outside their rooms as they spoke so gleefully about your proposal, and how they could not accept it fast enough. How honored they were to be considered, and how well suited you were for this man.

Could it have been Aemond's proposal? Surely you would've known. Your mother would not have waited to share this news with you. A prince asking for your hand? It would've been a triumphant win for your family. You were no great prize, the daughter of a decently wealthy house in Saltpans. A prince would raise your station farther than you could every dream, not that it was ever something you worried about. More importantly, though, Aemond was not some old Lord wanting to steal a girl away from her joys. Aemond could have made you...happy. Or at least, content.

"You sent the proposal? All those years ago?" You questioned him, but the answer seemed plain to you.

"My father sent it. I was unaware of the plans until the message returned with news of your disappearance. A girl who would spurn the chance to marry a prince, it was unspeakable. Humiliating. But I could not fault you. You were confused, and scared. You did not know me, so I sought you out. Then to find you here, pretending you do not know me. I gave you another chance, why do you not want me?"

"I didn't...I didn't know." You felt as if you could not speak, your whole life had been laid out based off this very important event. To know you'd gotten it wrong was earth shattering.

"What didn't you know?"

The room melted in the corner of your eyes, distorting your view. You held your stomach to quell the nausea riding, and went to step away from Aemond, only to trip and fall down, sitting on your calves.

Aemond knelt immediately to hold you up, calling to someone for aid. Black patched clouded your vision, but you squeezed your eyes, hoping to eradicate them.

"What's happened?" Sylvi's urgent voice snapped you back to consciousness, at least enough to push away from Aemond. "Aemond, what have you done to the poor girl?"

"I am okay, I just...want to lie down. I need to leave here, I need my rooms."

"Some water for the poor girl." Sylvi ordered someone, and you were helped up and ushered away to your room, where the girls doted on you, whilst questioning what caused such an episode.

@mamawiggers1980 @dahlias-and-marigolds @staarflowerr

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #hosue of the dragon #unbroken betrothals

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mothhball · 9 months ago

Text

Positive Reinforcement

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x delusional!Reader (fem)

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, DUB-CON (bc Jon is playing a little hard to get), L-BOMB, fingering, oral sex (both m + f receiving), deepthroating, brief breathplay, mutual body worship, p in v sex, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, overstim, clothed male/naked female, threats of drugging, violence mention, reader is a little unhinged

Summary | You’re convinced he’s the one, but you’ve been causing nothing but trouble for Jonathan. Maybe it’s time to switch up the strategy.

Words | 6.2k

Notes | FILTH. Jon may be ooc, whoops. Honestly, this is very self-indulgent and was a struggle to write lol

Arkham certainly has its charms. From the noisy, dark hallways to the scratchy and shapeless patient uniforms - there’s something for everyone here. As far as you’re concerned, you’re here for no reason. At least no serious reason. You’re a lover and a fighter. Literally just a girl. Even though the GCPD certainly didn’t agree when they arrested you for attempted murder, assault, breaking and entering, and a bunch of other rude accusations.

Your ex broke your heart, so you crashed your car into him in an attempt to get back at him, breaking both his legs in the process. He may never walk again – big deal! A crime of passion, your honor! Revenge for the two years that you’ve wasted on a person, only for him to break up with you once he noticed the tracker sown into the bottom hem of his favorite jacket. Bummer.

But life goes on, and as long as your heart can beat, it can love. And the person who made you believe in romance again is sitting right in front of you in his office, narrowing his eyes as he stares you down over the rim of the coffee cup he’s sipping from. If only you could trade places with an inanimate object. Jonathan Crane in his entirety is worth the stay at Arkham. He’s worth the uncomfortable bed, colorless food and horrible daytime television that’s always running in the recreation room. Who needs freedom when you have love?

Crane was the first to listen to you. The first person to let you speak and philosophize about the nature of your devotion and the way you love people. And he didn’t judge you. At least not out loud.

But now, two months after being admitted to the asylum, he’s grown tired and agitated. Unhealthy attachment and mood-natural delusionships involving someone who wants nothing to do with you. That’s the addition to your diagnosis that Crane is currently rattling off right in front of you, but you’re too busy staring at every detail of his face, trying to manifest his hands on your skin and his tongue down your throat.

“Are you trying to go for a new record in weeks spent in solitary confinement?” Crane sets down the cup to have a free hand to rub his temple with.

The question makes you smile. Oh, he’s always so funny. So charming. But being sentenced to solitude wasn’t the goal you had in mind when you smashed another patient’s face into the cafeteria wall, not easing up until her teeth were scattered around like the shiny pearls of a rich lady’s ripped necklace. Even though you were hosed down by a guard and received a fresh set of clothes, the other woman’s dried blood is still crusted under the nail of your left ring finger. A secret little sign of your devotion. You didn’t do it out of anger or jealousy either. You did it because you knew that Crane would be forced to sit you down for an emergency therapy session. It’s his own fault for reducing your sessions to only once a week.

A playfully coy smile pulls at the corners of your lips, and you lean forward a little, wanting to get a better look at him even though you’ve already perfectly memorized every detail of him after just the first two days of being here.

“She shouldn’t have provoked me. I was defending myself. You understand me. Right, Jonathan?”

You slowly inch your hand across the table, almost making contact with his fingertips until he opts to grab your file instead. It’s a pointed gesture, and you quietly mourn the chance for physical contact with him. Crane clears his throat to bring your focus back to the here and now. And of course, the first thing he does is correct you.

“Whistler?” You furrow your eyebrows. “What does she have to do with this? I thought… I thought you were trying to help me.”

“It’s Dr. Crane for you. And I understand that you have very little self-control.” He pauses for a moment, struggling with a sudden surge of anger before he manages to continue. “I’ll be honest. My patience is wearing thin. You’re a danger to the other inmates, and Dr. Whistler of all people already offered to take you off my hands.”

This revelation makes you perk up suddenly, and there’s a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s thinking of giving you away?

“Yes, emphasis on trying. But as you can see, we’re not getting anywhere, are we? And Whistler mentioned how optimistic she is about your case. If you want my opinion, I think she’s itching to test out some new sedatives we’ve added to the catalog.” Crane adjusts his glasses, and the way he speaks almost makes you think he doesn’t care. But you’re sure he does. Of course he does. He has to. Nevertheless, the mere thought of not seeing him on a regular basis makes anxiety crawl up your spine, and you absently pick at your cuticles until you tear a little too deep, and another line of red pools around your fingernail.

“You can’t do this,” you try to argue, searching your brain for any good reason for him to keep you aside from the fact that you two belong together. You briefly lick your lips, daring to appeal to his pride. “If you hand me off, everyone will know that you failed. They’ll all know that you gave up on me because you couldn’t handle me.”

Crane’s eyes narrow into cold slits, and his grip on your file tightens. Uh-oh. That’s a very ugly expression on your darling doctor. He’s quiet for a moment, silently reigning himself back in. The rage that’s simmering beneath his skin dissipates a little when he has a sudden idea.

Maybe a different approach could work better. Realization sets in, and he almost wants to smack himself for not thinking of this sooner. Evidently, you don't care that much for punishment. Solitary confinement and restriction from activities do little to keep you in check. But how about a different motivation? How about reward?

"Alright, here's what we're going to do. We'll keep up the weekly frequency of solo therapy sessions." He thinks out loud, crossing his arms over his chest and occasionally tapping his fingers on his biceps. You want to voice your protest about not getting more sessions with him, but he continues with this lovely, rumbly tone that he uses whenever he's planning something and getting matter-of-fact with you. It's like catnip for your ears, almost making you melt in your little grippy socks.

"And if I don't hear any complaints about you from the other members of staff, you'll get a reward each time. So, be a good girl for a week and you'll get a treat. Easy, right?"

His eyebrows are raised expectantly as he waits for your reply, and you think about his offer, picking at your sleeve as you weigh out the pros and cons.

"Do I get to pick the reward?" you eventually ask, looking back at him with a glint in your eyes that he immediately recognizes. Crane firmly shakes his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"No. Because I know what you'll choose."

"Then I'm not doing it."

Crane sighs, pulling out his work phone.

"I'll give Whistler a call," he states, concentrating on trying not to smirk at the way your expression falls. Like threatening a child by calling Santa.

"Wait! No, I - ... how about a compromise?" You plead, not missing the parallel either. But if you don't want to settle for coal (or in this case, withdrawal from your man), you'll have to suck it up.

Crane looks up from his phone, thumb hovering over the buttons for another moment before he tucks it back into the pocket of his suit jacket. "A compromise? Doll, we’re not arguing over who does the dishes and brings out the trash. You have no say in this aside from agreeing to either a good or a bad time.”

Damn. Did he have to make it domestic?

“Let me burst your bubble for a moment,” He continues, not allowing you to fantasize over his choice of words for longer than necessary. “You have no power here. No agency, no privileges. You’re not ‘doing’ anything, you’re having things ‘done to’ you. You may think you have me in the palm of your hand, because I’m forced to see you every time you get yourself into trouble, but I could just as well keep you drugged and docile for the rest of your indefinite stay here. So,” he leans forward, resting his palms on the table and clearing his throat.

“No more nonsense. This is your very last warning. If you lash out again, I’ll hand you over to Dr. Whistler, advise her to keep you sedated and move onto other much more interesting and agreeable patients, my reputation be damned.”

The silence that follows his words is deafening, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears as the air suddenly feels thinner. Tears well up in your eyes. Bitter tears of shame and disappointment, and you feel like a petulant child, but it does nothing to stop them from rolling down your face and dripping onto the table below.

Crane stiffens, visibly taken aback by your sudden display of emotion. He thought he’s seen it all from you. The smirks, the winking, the way you bite your lip in an attempt to seduce a man who’s as emotionally available as one of the brick walls making up this very building. Part of him wants to escape the conversation immediately, but it’s his job to at least attempt to help you through your issues, and leaving you in a state of distress is the entire opposite of that.

“Listen,” he starts, almost tentative. “I don’t want to do any of that. Not really. I want to keep working with you. And I believe you’ve made a little progress so far, but you’d be even further along if you’d stop antagonizing everyone for a chance to speak to me.”

“But I need to. You don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

You sniffle, unable to articulate properly. He should know. He should understand from a single second of eye contact. Yet here you are, forced to spell it out for him. Crane’s eyes soften ever so slightly, and he pulls out a pack of pocket tissues, sliding it across the desk so you can dry your tears. His tone is calmer now, almost gentle.

“Why are you doing this? All of this resistance… the altercations with other patients… your life could be so easy. So why?”

“To make you notice me,” you sniffle, gingerly patting your cheeks with one of the paper tissues. Crane’s eyebrows furrow in response.

“You don’t think I would’ve noticed you without all of this mess?” He tilts his head, slightly amused by your melodramatic performance. You scoff at the question, frowning when he actually smirks at you this time.

“No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t notice me if I were a model patient. You wouldn’t spare me a single glance if I was docile like the others… I want you to think about me even when your shift is over.”

Crane shrugs, letting out a sigh through his nose as he does. A corner of his lip twitches, and you can’t tell whether it’s in amusement or disgust. The fact that you tried to manipulate him by being a ‘bad’ patient irritates him, but he has to admit that your strategy worked.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t notice you. You have no idea how difficult and repetitive this job gets… how much the faces start to blur together after a while. You’re not very special at all, if I’m being honest.”

The comment and the monotony in his voice sting, and just for a split second, the mask of sweetness slips to reveal the anger and hurt in your eyes. You quickly manage to reel yourself back in, and you clear your throat as you look away from him. At least he’s being honest with you. The basis of a good and healthy relationship.

“I could… make myself special to you.” A pause.

“Do you think you’re capable of doing that? I mean, so far, you’ve just been causing problems and it’s getting stale. Can you really do something better for me?”

“I can be good… I could show you how I feel for you.” It’s a gamble and you know it. But the possible reward outweighs the risk. At least to your infatuated brain. Crane shifts in his seat, deciding to humor you.

“How do you feel for me? Enlighten me a little bit.”

“I’m in love with you. I love you.” Your sweetheart bristles like a cat, and you feel let down by his reaction. During the countless times you’ve fantasized about this moment in the showers, scrubbing yourself with cheap soap, he was elated by your confession. But the real-life Jonathan Crane just looks at you with mild pity. Pity that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That was… fast. Didn’t even waste a moment to admit it. But I suppose it’s expected from you,” he sighs, shaking his head as he writes something down in your file. You’re quick to defend yourself. This isn’t a joke to you, after all. You’re laying your heart completely bare, ripping apart skin and flesh to expose the bloody, weakly beating thing to his unimpressed eyes.

“I mean it.”

He lets out a low whistle, and his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. For an agonizingly long moment (about 30 seconds), he punishes your honesty with silence before he finally sets his pen down and looks at you.

“Then do something to prove it.” He says it so nonchalantly. As if he’s not really expecting anything at all. But he’s severely underestimating how deep your devotion runs for him. Your chair screeches across the floor as you get up, and Crane looks alarmed for a fleeting moment before you lower yourself to your knees and crawl under his desk until you come up between his thighs. Your sweetheart’s eyes soften, and he reaches down to brush his fingers through your hair almost instinctively.

“I’ll show you…” you murmur softly, running your hands over his thighs and lightly digging your nails into the fabric of his slacks. Crane lets out a barely audible sigh, shifting a little in his seat to part his legs for easier access. So considerate. Your man really is such a darling.

Looking up at him from beneath the table, you make quick work of his belt and zipper before you pull up his shirt that he kept tucked into his pants. Your mouth waters at the sight of his skin, and you lean in to kiss his stomach while your hand moves to palm his cock through his boxers. Crane hisses softly, keeping his eyes locked on your devoted form between his thighs, and a shiver runs down his spine when you pull down his underwear, exposing him to the cool air of his office.

“God… your cock is so beautiful… you don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming of sucking you off…” you murmur, eyes lighting up as you wrap your hand around him. Crane licks his lips, unsure how to feel about the compliment. You’ve been his biggest headache for months now, and yet here you are, sweettalking him while you’re sitting under his desk with your fingers around his dick.

“I bet you taste as sweet as you look.” You giggle, gathering some saliva in your mouth before you let it dribble down onto his tip so you can pump his cock more easily. Crane’s brows furrow, and you smile up at him before licking from his base up to his tip, causing him to twitch against your tongue. You know he’s always pent up, always stressed, and you don’t really have to worry about him seeking release elsewhere since he’s always focused on his work. And, in some abstract way, always focused on you.

Loyalty. Another pillar of an unbreakable bond.

You can feel him hardening within your grasp, and you swear you can hear an almost silent breath of relief when you finally take his cock into your mouth. You start off slow, moaning at the feeling of his length on your tongue, and you continue to caress his thighs and stomach in an effort to worship him like he deserves.

“No teeth, doll.” He smirks down at you, smoothing his thumb over your cheekbone as you continue to suck the precum from his tip. The taste of him makes your mind fog up, and you nod eagerly, pulling away from him for just a moment to answer properly.

“Cross my heart, Jon.” Your mouth is back on him within seconds, and you bob your head up and down, taking him deeper down your throat every time. Crane hisses in response, and his grip on your hair tightens.

“It’s still Dr. Crane to you…” His protest is half-hearted at best, and you witness his composure crumbling in real time as you suck him off like you’re trying to devour him whole. You’re on a mission. A mission to drive him to the brink of insanity like his mere presence does you. Crane huffs out another sharp breath, and his hips twitch forward, generously helping you to breach your throat barrier and causing you to splutter around him. Tears well up in your eyes, but you stay down on his cock, pushing down all the way until the neatly trimmed hair on the base of his length tickles your nose.

“Fuck… You’re so pretty when you gag on it.”

You pull off of him, only managing to swallow half the spit that gathered in your mouth while the rest drips down your chin, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Crane’s hand massages the back of your head encouragingly, and you flash him a bright smile before you go back down at him with a little more vigor.

After a while, you go to catch your breath, but before you can pull away completely, both his hands shoot out to grab your head and push you back down on his cock. Your eyes widen, and you let out a slight noise of protest as he begins to fuck into your throat. Drool dribbles down your chin, soiling the shirt of your patient uniform while your nails dig into Crane’s thighs in an attempt to ground yourself. He clenches his jaw, moaning through his teeth while your throat contracts around him.

“Perfect little cocksucker… so eager to show me your love…” He cuts himself off with a little grunt, and his grip on your head tightens as he moves your skull up and down. “All the way down… yes, keep your tongue out…”

You continue to gag around his length, trying to keep up with the rhythm of his thrusts as he forces his cock down your pharynx, enjoying the way your muscles clench and contract. His soft moans become more urgent, and pride makes your heart swell. He’s making these noises because of you.

“That’s it… good girl. Eyes on me. I want you to look at my face when I cum down your pretty little throat...”

You whine in response, nodding your head as best as you can, and you start to work in tandem with him as he gets close. The moment you feel him pulse on your tongue, he pushes you down all the way again, and his hand reaches around to your face. You catch a dark glint in his eyes when he suddenly pinches your nose shut, constricting your airflow completely as he chokes you on his cock. You struggle against him, but he doesn’t budge as his eyes fall shut and he grunts out more praise. Panic rises in your chest, and your muscles convulse in a desperate attempt to get air into your neglected lungs. And it’s exactly this panic in your eyes that pushes Crane over the edge and he shoots his load directly down your throat, giving you no other option but to swallow the hot ropes of cum that he lazily continues to fuck into your mouth.

Finally, he lets go of your head, and you immediately flinch back to suck in some much-needed air. The both of you are panting, and you keep your watery eyes locked on his satisfied expression while strings of spit still connect your swollen lips to the flushed head of his cock.

“You okay?”

“Yeah...“ you breathe out in reply, trying to swallow the soreness in your throat. Crane’s hand reaches out to you again, caressing your head like a cherished pet, and he chuckles to himself.

“Catch your breath, doll. That was one hell of a way to prove yourself…” He murmurs, reaching across the table to retrieve the pack of pocket tissues and hand it to you. Your fingers are a little shaky as you wipe the mess from your chin and neck, and you slowly return to your chair. Crane’s brows furrow when he watches you retreat, and you blink at him.

Immediately, your thoughts begin to spiral. What are you doing? Sitting back down, that much is evident. Did he want you to stay and keep on sucking him off? Were you supposed to keep the spit on your face intact? Does he – Crane effectively snaps you out of your mental gymnastics routine by brushing his foot against your calf, and you’re immediately focused on the butterflies that fill up your chest.

“What?”

“What are you doing?” He asks, not bothering to elaborate.

“As far as I’m concerned, you behaved very well just now. So, I’d like to keep my word and reward you.”

He points over to the leather couch in the corner of his office, and you find yourself standing before he can even fully extend his arm. Crane follows after you, leading you with his hands on your hips until your knees softly bump against the furniture. He’s pressed up behind you, breathing in the scent of your skin while his hands begin to trail all over your body. You tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder as his touch slips under your shirt, and you can feel the way his fingers are trembling against your flesh. Crane clicks his tongue as he pinches your nipples, slowly rolling the hardening bud between index and thumb in a way that makes you jolt in his grasp.

“Let me see what I’m working with, doll,” he murmurs, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside before the cotton bustier that the asylum provided follows suit. Your first instinct is to shy away, but he grabs your shoulders and spins you around to get a good look at you. His gaze is detached. Clinical. And you can feel yourself shrinking away until he finally decides to open his mouth. “Fucking hell… maybe I should’ve indulged you sooner.”

It isn’t much in terms of a compliment, but to you it might as well be a marriage proposal. Your breath catches in your lungs as Crane leans in, sucking your nipple into his mouth while his hands wander lower to push down your pants and sneak into your underwear. He chuckles when his fingers dip into the mess that has built up between your thighs.

“Did sucking my cock make you this wet already?”

“I mean… it is a pretty cock…” you try to defend your already half-unraveled state, and he lets out a laugh. A genuine one of honest amusement, and the noise makes your heart soar up into the sky.

“Quiet. Lie back on the couch for me, sweetheart.” The new pet name almost makes your body collapse in on itself. Your back meets the cold faux leather, and you let out a quiet hiss of discomfort as you sink a little into the cushions. Crane pulls your pants and underwear off completely, letting them join the already existing pile on the floor before he gets on the couch with you. He grabs your thighs, pulling you a little closer so he can rest your legs over his shoulders while he lies flat between them. His breath ghosts over your pussy, and he spreads your folds open with his thumbs to get a good look at your drooling entrance.

“Pretty… so, so pretty,” he murmurs, kissing up the insides of your thighs before he circles his tongue around your eager hole, savoring your taste with a deep, guttural groan.

You reach out your hand to hold his, but he swats it away, causing you to give his hair a harsh tug when he doesn’t do as you want him to. This, however makes him answer with a rough bite to the meat of your thigh, and you’re almost embarrassed by the wanton noise that slips past your lips. Pain tingles down your spine, and you try to sit up, only for him to push you back down. In a second attempt, you manage to catch his hand and immediately link your fingers together so he can’t escape your clammy, possessive grip. To your absolute delight, he’s not even trying to this time around. You knew he’d come around.

His tongue dances around your dripping entrance yet again, licking a stripe up your pussy that makes your grip on his hand tighten and your toes curl. Finally, finally, he sinks a finger into you, already sliding in to where his digit meets his palm, and he moans along with you when he feels how your pussy flutters around him.

“Jonathan…”

For the first time, he doesn’t correct you. Instead, he chooses to lean in and devour you, eagerly lapping at your juicy cunt as he presses the pad of his fingers against that sweet spot inside of you. He’s insatiable, parting your folds with his tongue and groaning at your taste as you grind your clit against the diligent muscle. And his eyes. Oh, God his eyes. He’s almost crushing you beneath his heated gaze, keeping you pinned while he eats you out like a starved man. Now, it’s Jonathan’s turn to get messy, and he doesn’t mind in the slightest as your saccharine slick coats his chin. He adds another finger into your cunt, pulling away from your clit to bite and suck on your thighs while he stretches you open.

“Fuck – “

“Just another finger, doll. Let yourself go for me…” He murmurs between licks and gentle bites as he returns to your pussy, his glasses fogging up from the heat.

Your hands are still intertwined, even as your back arches and you continue to pant and moan out his name. Even as your breath hitches when he latches back onto that sensitive bundle of nerves. Even when he adds a third finger and you finally come on his tongue with a wail that sounds as blissful as it does delirious.

Your brain is clouded by euphoria, and your bite your lip to keep quiet as he continues to pump his fingers inside of you. You can hear the mess he’s made between your thighs. A mix of his saliva and your juices, and Jonathan is not wasting a single drop of it. Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you only faintly register the little laugh he lets out at your state.

“Christ, I want to kiss that expression off your face… Actually, don’t mind if I do.”

Jonathan leans over you, laughing again when he gets a closer look at your expression. And then months of yearning and dreams of romance become reality when his lips meet yours. Fireworks go off in your head, and you immediately pull him closer, almost causing him to topple over on top of you. It’s messy and overly excited on your part, but you couldn’t care less as your teeth clash a few times and you lick against his tongue and taste yourself on it.

Jonathan pulls back for a moment, despite the vise grip you have on his shoulders, but he calms you by pressing his lips against your brow, whispering like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Easy there… come on, be good.”

You whine in response, but when his thumb brushes over your clit again, your body jolts and you immediately shut up. Jonathan pushes his own pants down further, freeing his leaking cock again and giving himself a few pumps before he pushes his hips forward to coat his length in your slick. Every time the heard of his cock brushes up against you, you let out a soft little noise, and it’s in that moment that Jonathan decides he’d like to hear a lot more of it in the future. He grits his teeth, slowly sinking into your cunt while keeping his eyes fixed on yours.

Once upon a time, you were nothing special. You have an interesting backstory, sure. And your obsession with him does wonders for his ego. But right here, right now, something cracks the stony façade and he silently dares to venture a little further into the dreamworld you’ve built around the two of you. He sees parts of himself in you. The obsessive, volatile behavior. The inability to love in a way that’s considered normal. The desire to possess something or someone in its entirety.

You shiver when he bottoms out inside of you, his hips meeting yours and slightly squishing you into the faux leather cushions of the couch. You’re still tight and sensitive from your previous climax, and Jonathan can feel your pulse in the velvety walls of your pussy that’s clenched around him. Despite your heightened sensitivity, his thumb returns to your clit, rubbing a tight figure eight into it that makes your head spin. His other hand leaves yours, grabbing your jaw instead to keep you from squirming.

“You’re gonna come for me again,” he states, rubbing you a little faster and applying more pressure along with it. Your muscles tighten, and your heart hammers in your chest as you stare up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“C… can you – “

“Move?” he finishes for you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Only if you cum again, I’m afraid. It’ll be another reward.”

You sob out a moan, face scrunching up when that familiar pressure begins to build inside of you for a second time. Jonathan keeps his hand on your jaw, watching every twitch and flinch of your expression with a look of genuine fascination.

“God, why would anyone ever leave you…” he murmurs, and his word pierce right into your heart and the black depths of your lonely little soul. “Pretty thing… if you didn’t break his legs, I’d recommend for him to get a cell on the opposite end of the hall…”

Your breath hitches as he continues to rub your clit and softly speak to you. “Insanity, I tell you… abandoning such a cute toy... It’s beyond me.” He lets out a soft groan when you tighten around his cock. “That’s it… thaaat’s it.”

You reach the edge again, clenching your eyes shut as you come a second time. Jonathan captures your lips with his own yet again, and while you’re stuck on cloud nine, he pulls his cock out all the way only to slam back inside with an intensity that pushes the air from your lungs. You cry into his mouth as he picks up a consistent, slow rhythm of deep thrusts that make your eyes clench shut. Jonathan releases you from the kiss and gives your jaw a little warning squeeze, wanting your eyes to stay on his while he’s rearranging your anatomy with his cock.

“There we go… stretched open so well.”

You squirm back on your elbows, looking up at him with dilated pupils and burning cheeks, but he grabs your waist and pulls you back right to the base of his cock. A truly sinful noise spills from your lips and for a moment you don't even register that it came from you.

Crane chuckles as he starts to roll his hips again, his right hand hovering dangerously close to your poor, abused clit again. A silent threat almost. Then again, he's quite literally threatening you with a good time.

"S'too much...," you groan out, your body rocking every time he spears you open with his girth.

"Shh... no, no.." he tuts, tightening his grip to prevent you from escaping. "You're gonna stay right here and take it. Stay right. Fucking. Here."

Every word he speaks is empathized by a sharp thrust into your drooling cunt, causing you to howl in pleasure and claw at his back. Every nerve in your body is on fire, drowning you in sweet, sweet agony.

"You wanted this, right? For months you've been begging. And now it's suddenly too much?"

You can only nod, babbling some incoherent nonsense in response. Crane lets out a condescending laugh which quickly twists into a moan when you clench around his cock. No matter how much he tries to pretend, he's just as close as you are.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, clinging to you like you're a lifeboat in a storm as he keeps on thrusting into your slick heat.

"So good for me... God, you're so beautiful when you're sweet and obedient... accepting your reward like a good little patient."

You look up at him, trying to focus on his flushed face even though your eyes are rolling back in your head. Crane leans down to capture your mouth in another heated kiss, nipping at your lips and tasting your tongue while he moans down your throat.

The rhythm of his hips stutters when he pulls away to press his face into the crook of your neck, and suck and bite at your skin in a desperate attempt to leave traces of himself.

“Are you going to cum again?” He groans into your skin, flattening his tongue against your pulse.

“N… no…” you whine

“No? This –“ He’s cut off by a moan of his own, and it takes a moment for him to pull himself together to finish his sentence. “This is your reward, doll… We’re going to have to work on – fffuck – on gratitude…”

“I can’t...! Please… please…” you beg, but you’re not sure what you’re even begging for. Certainly not for him to stop.

“You can’t? Well… you’re going to.” His thrusts begin to get faster and more erratic as he tries to fuck into you as deeply as possible “Do it for me, hm? Just for me…”

“No- fuck, please! Jonathan -!!” Tears well up in your eyes from the delicious pain, and you actually scream when he starts to rub your clit again. Colors explode behind your closed eyelids. “Please, please, please- “

“I know you can do it… one more time, doll… Just one more time…”

And you finally do as you’re told, cumming around his cock with an intensity that feels as if someone punched you in the gut. Your brain short-circuits, and you’re not even making noises anymore as he fucks you through your climax like you’re a toy that was handmade for his pleasure.

“Fuuuck – Christ, fuck -“ Jonathan’s voice completely lacks the air of authority and superiority that you are so used to when he whimpers into your neck, his hands tightening around you. It feels like you’re wrapped in cotton, and you can only hear him faintly due to the volume of your pulse that’s hammering in your ears. Finally, his hips still, and he sinks down on top of you as he finishes inside of your fluttering cunt. Rational thought is absent in this moment, and you’re absolutely certain that this is what paradise must feel like. Connected to the one you love so dearly. Overwhelmed by pleasure.

For a long while, the office is silent aside from the rugged breathing that’s coming from both of you, and you bask in his warmth, absolutely content to stay like this for the rest of time. Jonathan clears his dry throat, lifting himself up onto his elbows as he looks down at you, and you’re struck by overwhelming affection once again.

“I love you…”

“Shut up…” But there’s no bite to it. He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, and for a moment, there’s a very real glimpse of fondness in his eyes. Crane stays silent, taking in your features like it’s the first time he sees you properly, and his hand comes up to gingerly trace over your cheekbone and eyebrow before he brushes a strand of hair out of your forehead. Then finally, he lets out a soft breath before he murmurs gently, intimately.

“Looks like I’ll have to come up with more rewards in the future.”

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