Archive of Our Own ^beta

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[cw: mentions of food play and dom/sub play]

AITA for laughing at my husband during sex?

I know the title sounds a bit harsh and you're all ready to deem me the asshole, but please, before you cast your judgement, hear me out.

(for the sake of our privacy I will not make known our age, but you're more than welcome to imagine us as middle-aged men.)

My husband and I, we have loved each other for a long time; you can say from the very start of the world. There had been some... obstacles - our families, for a start. Well, you don't really need a lot of details about that, but you can imagine a bit of a Romeo and Juliet situation. Romantic, in a rather tragic way. I would love to see a play about us, but I'm digressing.

(but if anyone fancies themselves a writer I would be glad to share some details about us. Nothing too private, but surely enough to weave a fine story. Maybe send me some example of your writing first, just for a bit of quality check.)

A couple of months ago, we freed ourselves of any duty our families had cast upon us during the... years (I am not to disclose more details about this; let just say it is quite more than a few years), and we had the most lovely little wedding on a beach in Sicily and encrusted each other's soul in our wedding rings. How long have I dreamed of that day - and there it was, exactly as I imagined it! But I'm not here to boast about the perfect organization skills my husband has refined throughout the years.

My darling love, the light of my life... is quite inexperienced in the matter of lovemaking, while I'm rather versed in the arts of passion and seduction. It really isn't a problem, since I'm more than happy to be his teacher. Oh, we have done a bit of teacher/student roleplay and my wooden ruler makes the most delightful sound against his posterior. But I'm digressing again. Apologies.

When was I? Oh, yes. Well, yesterday my darling husband tried to reverse the roles a little. I usually take on a more dominant role, when the need arises, and we both enjoy it tremendously. My dear heart loves to play, from time to time, as a cheeky brat, disobeying (he says it makes punishment more exciting) and badmouthing me, but he's more usually a very obedient little thing, eyes shining and lips as red as pomegranate seeds. He's so beautiful I'm rather sorry you couldn't see him. Well, no, not really, as I'm pretty jealous of my possessions. Oh, I lost my train of thoughts again.

I was talking about my husband's attempt to be... well, a bit rougher than he usually is. I was in the kitchen, nursing my cup of evening tea, and thinking about drinking a cup of warm milk with a teaspoon of honey afterwards, and then my mind wandered a bit more and I pictured myself licking honey from the hollows of my husband's collarbones and from the dimples of his lower back (he's skinny, my sweetheart, I love to put my hands around his waist to see how lean he is, and throwing him over my shoulder like he's nothing) and then, when I was fantasizing about licking his thighs and calves clean, he came behind me without a sound and bit my ear as he ordered me to kneel. I was more than happy to comply, as the change was more than welcome. I'm not usually fond of changes (tricky things, more insidious than they seem at first) but everything my husband does is lovely. Well, not really everything, we obviously have our bickers and fights and he always forgets the milk out of the fridge, but he's the apple of my eyes. And come to think of it, he usually seems to do it just before a scene. Oh, what a mischievous thing he is!

When I knelt, he started unbuttoning his jeans and asked me to perform fellatio on him. Well, he curtly ordered in a very rude way. Well, he stuttered some naughty words while furiously blushing. I looked up at him and... I laughed. Not in a mean way! I would never laugh at my husband with malice, I swear, I love him too much for that, but he was so cute, trying to put up a stern face to spice things up a bit, but he was so tense... you know, he's the kindest soul I've ever encountered and seeing him that way... oh, it was hilarious and I really couldn't help myself. He was so cute, like a growling puppy trying to scare a wolf. I stood up and hugged him and peppered his face with kisses and he started crying out of embarrassment and saying he hated me. I told him I was sorry, and I truly was, and I told him I didn't laugh on purpose and that I was nonetheless very willing to love him right there but he protested again, grumbling it wasn't true, so I obviously had to prove him wrong. And I did.

Afterwards, we went to an art show (which I hated like I hate every kind of so-called art it is made these days, but I said nothing because my husband loves it) and I gave him a full body massage before bed - my husband is very tactile and loves to be touched; sometimes just our hands brushing, or his hair petted, is enough to send him purring. Sometimes I wake up cocooned in his embrace because he has looked for me in his sleep, and those days are always filled with joy, even if his body is a little cold, but nothing a couple or a couple thousand kisses can't fix.

Goodness, where was I? Oh, yes. I think I did everything in my power to make amends and it seems it worked, but I still feel a bit guilty, so I'd like to ask you if I'm still an asshole. Be polite, please.

Kind regards,

A.Z.F.

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I hurt my angel. I deserve to die. I live in Mayfair, hmu. Literally.

EDIT: a witch (a proper witch, it's not an insult) told me I'm being unnecessary dramatic and I'm not making any sense. Whatever. I don't know how to be clearer than that, but here goes nothing.

My angel is perfect and I love him so much. Every day is a gift because of him. He's a snob whom I can piss off just bringing a McFlurry with me. He thinks Netflix is some sort of Latin word and gets annoyed because he can't remember what it means. I haven't yet had the heart to tell him otherwise, and also because he's so cute when he huffs. He draws stickmen while waiting for his tea and hums old songs after kissing me. He has hair as soft as a rabbit's. There are a million things he hates an of which he reminds constantly as if I could ever forget even the tiniest detail about him, and he does it in the prettiest way, scrunching his nose up, and he gets all these adorable wrinkles. I love him so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so much.

I could go on for hours, but I won't, because y'all suckers don't deserve to know that much about my angel.

We're about to get married and I've been planning the wedding out for three months (in my head I've been doing it for years), and I've been sleeping at my angel's apartment like twice or thrice a week, just going slowly, not rushing things. My angel doesn't like rushing and I don't want to scare him off. Furthermore, I'm not yet sure - like, really sure - he likes me. Yes, we kiss and shag and watch things and read things and sometimes we go grocery shopping together if he feels like minglin' with your bunch, because he's funny and likes to have fun, but all these things are also, like, friends things? So, I don't know. But I've planned a few things both for the ceremony and the honeymoon he's going to love so much I hope he's going to love me too.

Yesterday I slept at his house. (he has just bought a new bed just because I said his old one was a bit stiff and not too comfortable. Isn't he nice? Isn't he the nicest angel on Earth? Yes, he is. Sucks to be y'all.) Obviously, I brought him a gift, my most well-behaved flowers, and he kissed me for that. As a thank you. Still not sure if he likes me.

We ate dinner, we drank a bit, we went to bed. My husband-to-be (I just wanted to write it down somewhere. Husband-to-be. Husband-to-be. HUssssband-to-beeeee.) doesn't like sleeping very much but since I do like it he sits with me, reading, and he also offers me his soft thighs as a pillow. But yesterday I was knackered and I fell asleep without using them, which is terrible, but whatever.

So, now I have to give a bit of background, so y'all can understand my shame as the disgrace it is: I've loved my husband-to-be (eheheheh) for the longest time, and I've been heartbroken about it just as long, as I was 150% sure he didn't love me back, so I had a couple of flings here and there, a couple of friends-with-benefits, a few one-night stands, one or two crushes. And yesterday I dreamed about one of them. And it wasn't a chaste dream in the slightest. And if that wasn't enough, apparently I moaned out loud. And other things, as my betrayed angel told me. He chuckled and said I was "adorable" and "rather fetching" and that he "would like to make me moan louder", but I'm sure I've wounded him terribly and he's gonna call off the wedding because I'm a horrible cheater. I'm not an asshole, I'm a monster. I finally had the creature of my dreams in my arms and I lost him because of a dream. I wanna die. Kill me.

Chapter Text

I know it sounds rather awful but, please, read every word before you cast your judgement. 

I hope you are not writing anything mean just because of the title.

Oh, right, this is not in real-time, I'm not in a confessional. My husband has to remind me that every time. I love my husband. I really, really love my husband. He's the centre of my universe. I hope you keep that in mind whilst reading.

Throughout our relationship, be it friendship or our marriage, my dear husband, the apple of my eye, has been the most generous of friends, always putting my wishes and needs before his own. Unfortunately, I've grown… accustomed to it, and I can become quite upset when my expectations are not met. I am already aware that I am spoiled but, if you think about it, it's my husband's fault as much as mine. I hardly could have spoiled myself, could I? I don't think I'm the one at fault here.

Anyhoo, last week I came home after work in a rather sour mood because of the rudest of customers, who repeatedly demanded I part ways with a book I was just planning to read. I had politely said no a couple of times and he dared ask me what kind of business I was running. I had to (very kindly, mind you) suggest he ran out of my business before I’d run out of patience. I really hope to never see him again. Such terrible taste in clothing, too! He had a shirt with very crude words on and the colour of the fabric was something I did not think the human eye could detect; unfortunately, I could.

But I digress. My husband says I’m unable to stay on topic but he also says that it is a rather entertaining flaw, as he is able to learn much more information about the world this way. Isn’t he a wonderful knight in shining armour? Always a good word for me, always complimenting me about the smallest thing. Yesterday I tried a new recipe for a cake and it came out too sweet, but as I always get nervous with experiments he helped himself with three slices just to make me happy. He doesn’t like venison and yet! We had the most delicious venison at our wedding and he cooks it for me at least twice a month! He threatens the butcher to give him the best cut of meat. I love him so, so much. 

Oh, I’m so sorry. Back to the point once again and for good, I hope.

As I was saying, once I got home I was already miffed and, as my husband loves to say, cranky. There is a most important detail you have to keep in mind about what I’m about to tell you: all day I had envisioned the peach cobbler I had asked my darling to bake for me. He had agreed to that in the morning, with a kiss on the cheek, but he said he had forgotten all about it and that it was too late to fetch some peaches from the grocery shop. He offered to call the best bakery in London but I did not want that, I wanted the peach cobbler my husband bakes. I know it sounds childish and unreasonable but this is just because you haven't the faintest idea about what it tastes like. You see, three summers ago my dove got caught in a peach craze and experimented with all sorts of recipes. Our kitchen smelled of summer love stories for months, we made jam - I’m eating toast and jam right now while my love dozes off on the window seat, he’s so beautiful. I’d give everything to be able to capture his grace on a canvas - and ice cream and, of course, tarts and pies. My darling boy became particularly fixated with peach cobbler: he tried, I think, at least twenty-four different recipes and, after some trials and errors, he came up with his own recipe and it was - oh, goodness, my stomach is grumbling just thinking about it. 

So, I reasonably wanted his peach cobbler, not anybody else’s. I asked him very nicely: it was just five p.m. and Waitrose sells very good peaches and it would be just a very quick walk for him from our apartment. He objected he was tired and that we had leftover tiramisu in the fridge if I really was that keen on dessert. I did not want tiramisu and he was being petulant for no reason at all. So I pouted a bit and said, “Could you please be my very good boy and go buy some peaches for me, my love?”

I was quite sure about the positive outcome because my sweetheart is very responsive to compliments, but I could never predict how quickly he got out of our home and how quickly he was back with peaches and lilies. Two hours later I was happily eating my peach cobbler with a lapful of purring husband.

I may have used this trick a couple of times more during the week. Just when I was too tired to draw my own bath or to send a book all by myself. Really, it's just cooperation between partners. And, you see, he craves to be told he has done a good job and what a good boy he is! And he indeed is, he's perfect and I love to praise him. I just thought it would be good for him to earn his praise and that the whole situation could be beneficial for both of us. But now I'm having doubts. What do you all think? Please, be gentle. Or, at least, polite.

Kind regards,

A.Z.F.