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sugarwarachan · 2 months ago

Text

hot for teacher

chapter three previous

pairing: shouta aizawa x f!reader

synopsis: You’re not expecting your day to fall to pieces at 8:21 a.m., but life hasn’t really been going your way lately. A string of lackluster dates, followed by two dead vibrators (with missing cords!), and the only outlet left for your mounting sexual frustration—the smut blog you diligently update—has been discovered by the one person you never wanted to find it: fellow teacher Shouta Aizawa. Who might just be the inspiration behind most of the fantasies you post about.

chapter cws: just enough plot to keep the porn coming, hizashi and rumi being super obvious in their meddling, Shouta ‘talks you through it’ Aizawa, more dirty talk than is perhaps necessary, the filthiest fingering scene i've ever written, soft degradation, ("good little whore" 🤭) d/s elements but never explicitly stated

word count: 3k

andy's notes: AHHHHHH i know this is late thank you all for waiting so patiently!! AIZAWA IS DOWN SO BAD I AM GOING INSANE

Rays of sunlight dance across Shouta’s face as his alarm clock blares. Scrubbing a hand over one eye, he hits the clock and rolls over, burying his face into the pillow.

Holy fuck.

He’s imagined you before. Knew you would look gorgeous spread out for him on any surface, but the reality of watching you cum, your mouth hanging open in that soft o, brow furrowed tight... He rolls his hips into the mattress in memory. Jesus Christ. If he’s not careful, he’ll have to rub one out before he can even start the day.

Shouta grabs his phone in an attempt to distract himself and immediately regrets it when he sees the text notification on the screen.

Hiz(ass)hi: signed us up for something!!!

He groans and presses call. It’s always better to find out exactly what his best friend's up to as soon as possible.

“What did you do?” he asks as soon as he picks up.

Hizashi doesn’t miss a beat. “Check your email yet?”

“I appreciate what little work-life balance I have.”

“Well," Hizashi coughs, "then you might not entirely love the surprise I’ve got in store for you, but it involves a certain you-know-whoooooo.”

“Fucking hell.” Shouta swings out of bed and passes a hand through his hair, nerves shooting through his stomach. “I’m serious, did you do something weird?”

He logs into his email, half-listening to Hizashi's explanation that he volunteered them both as chaperones for the upcoming debate team competition and texted you straight after.

“Perfect opportunity to spend some more time together,” Hizashi sing-songs, just as Shouta clocks your 7:35 a.m. reply.

Count me in!

An image of you tucked into his side erupts in his head, hair tousled from sleep and sex, tired smile on your face.

“You good, man?” Hizashi asks when Shouta lets the line stay silent.

Hasn’t he been wanting this exactly? A chance to get to know you more?

Shouta heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, I’m good. Just really wish you’d sat next to someone else in high school.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be sure to include me in your wedding vows.”

Shouta huffs a laugh and clicks off the phone.

He doesn’t know much about the debate team, except that he can hear Bakugou and Midoriya arguing from clear down the hall. Toshinori acts as the team’s usual advisor, but he’s been in and out of the hospital lately.

He imagines the last thing that man needs is accompanying a rowdy group of teenagers on an overnight trip.

He scans the remaining names. Todoroki, Jiro, and Yaoyorozu should behave themselves, at least.

Shouta: How many of us are going?

Hiz(ass)hi: 4. You, me, Rumi, and Y/N. See you tomorrow, sucker!

Shouta isn’t good in relationships.

That’s what he’s always told himself, but it’s not entirely true. He’s simply more deliberate, more exacting in what he wants than the typical person. He sees no point in dating frivolously.

Which is probably why he spent so much time deciding how to approach you.

When Hizashi came to him with his suspicions about your blog, Shouta gave himself an ultimatum.

One story. One glimpse into your head.

It wouldn’t be fair to you to form an opinion based on words alone; words he hasn’t yet confirmed aren’t simply fantasy. But the minute he reads the story, it unlocks a hunger in him that can’t be smothered.

He knows in his bones that it’s you. The intonation, the cadence; he can hear the way you talk to Rumi, the way you speak to the students.

And you’re fantasizing about someone taking care of you and fucking you stupid in ways he’s only considered in his head.

He never stood a chance.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a last-minute, hastily-put-together trip will result in at least one disaster.

The minibus slowly rolling to a stop along a country road is precisely such an event.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Shouta murmurs under his breath, resisting the urge to bang his hands in frustration on the steering wheel.

You peek over his shoulder.

“Did we seriously run out of gas?”

He barely hears you; you smell like jasmine and vanilla, and if he’s not careful, he’ll turn around and haul you into his lap in front of everyone on this bus.

Rumi laughs uproariously, rousing the students from their slumber. Jiro glares at her. “You had one job, Yamada, and you couldn’t manage filling up the tank?”

“It was full when we left, wasn’t it?” he shouts back at her.

Shouto, ever-dependable, is already typing into his phone. “There’s an inn up the road.”

Midoriya folds his body over the seat to get a look at the screen. “Oh! Do you think it’s close enough to this one temple I’ve been reading about?”

“Oi!” Bakugou barks, sweatshirt laid across his face. “Could we prioritize where to sleep and not whatever nerdy-ass thing you want to do?”

“Enough!” Aizawa bites out. “Watch your mouth, Bakugou, you’re still representing the school out here. All of you, go with Yamada and Usagiyama and book us rooms for the night. Y/N and I will stay here with the luggage.”

He ignores Hizashi’s smirk over your head.

“Some luck we have,” you say, digging a toe into the dirt as the two of you watch the group disappear into the fading light. “Do you imagine they’ll have enough rooms?”

For the sake of his sanity, they fucking will.

But as Shouta looks down the road at Hizashi’s retreating form, he knows for a fact that he sent the wrong pair of people ahead to deal with room arrangements.

Hizashi and Rumi return in a borrowed car and a slapped-together reason for the teachers sleeping co-ed that nearly makes him want to punch Yamada in the head.

“You want to catch up on One Piece together,” is all you say, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

As you and Shouta pile into the back of the car, you nudge him with a shoulder. “Glad to know they’re both as subtle as a brick to the face.”

He nudges you back, not caring that he’s being just as subtle as his two conniving friends.

The backseat is small, and he’s by no means a small man. Even without the bumps in the road that keep jostling you close to him, you’re already practically in his lap. Excited anticipation sets loose in his belly.

It’s been forever since he’s felt like this. Perhaps never, if he’s being honest. And by the time everyone is settled in for the night, he’s desperate to be alone with you.

“I hope you're clear that I’m not mad about this,” you say as soon as he shuts the door and faces the reality that it’s going to be very difficult fucking you in a way that doesn’t wake up the entire inn.

He takes in your face and smiles. “Not mad about this, either.”

“Should we talk about, like, ground rules?”

He likes how direct you are, but he also knows that a part of you is asking to stall.

“I’m no expert, but the color system works for me if it works for you.”

You nod, foot tapping an anxious rhythm into the carpet.

“Nothing has to happen. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” You smile softly, but there’s heat curling in the back of your eyes. “But I wanna feel what I felt the other night again. With you.”

He breathes out through his nose, and you grin like the little cocktease you are.

Seriously, can he soundproof these rooms?

“You didn’t happen to bring that pleated skirt of yours, did you?"

Your laugh is like honey. “I did happen to bring it. Should I wear it?”

“Please.”

“Got it, sir.”

The memory of your preferred words when you’ve acted out plays through his head as he suggests that you both wash up for the night.

When you come back warm and soft from the bath, hair curling slightly at your temple, you stop straight in your tracks.

Your eyes drop to his sweatpants and linger there.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “I was, umm. Noticing.”

His dick jumps.

“You are really big.” You’re suddenly in front of him, one hand on his chest, the other trailing down his belly. “You know, I think I’ve been wet since last night.”

Shouta’s not entirely sure what sound he makes.

“Yeah, baby?” He hitches your thigh up. “Been a little needy for me?”

You whimper your answer, faltering in your exploration of his happy trail as he rubs the pad of his fingers along your creamy slit. Your underwear is soaked through.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind a little. Like I can’t get enough.”

“I can tell. You’re shakin’ just from this.” He pulls your panties to the side and sucks in a breath. “Oh, sweetheart. This little cunt of yours is practically drooling.”

Ignoring your little squeak, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to the bed, folding your legs on either side of his thighs.

“Have you ever been this wet for someone else?” He doesn’t know where the question comes from, when the possession grabs hold. He cups your pussy, one hand tight on your waist.

“No, never,” you breathe out, rolling your pelvis forward into the heel of his hand, and then you frown, bottom lip jutting out in what he knows is embarrassment. “I’ve never even cum while being fingered.” You lean forward, resting your arms around his neck. “I always thought there was something wrong with me.”

Oh.

He stills. “You trust me, sweetheart?”

You nod, a mixture of eagerness and apprehension that makes his chest squeeze.

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for good?”

You wave a hand. “Yes, yes, I know all that.”

He raises a brow, but decides he can address your tone later. One problem at a time.

“Lay over my lap, y/n.”

You arrange yourself accordingly, brushing your tits against his thigh as you do so. His palm twitches.

“We’re gonna have a little lesson, sweetheart.” He caresses the back of your thighs. Your breath hitches. “Spread your knees wider, there you go. Lift your ass up for me, too, can you do that?”

Before he gives you time to think, he flips the fabric of your skirt over your hips and lands a crack on your ass. You squeal, fingers tight in the bedsheets.

“oh my fuck oh my fuck, harder,” you keen, thrusting your ass back at his palm.

Shouta bites down on his lip hard just to maintain some semblance of reason.

You’re fucking made for him.

“Did you say there was something wrong with you?”

Another smack makes the meat of your ass jiggle. You muffle the sound you make in the sheets beneath you and Shouta frowns.

“Nah ah, baby.” He lifts your chin up. “Let me hear you, huh? Can already tell you like being punished.”

“But our students might hear us, Shou,” you say, squirming in his lap. The nickname steals his breath. “I don’t want to be embarrassed like that.”

“Like that?” He raises an eyebrow and laughs softly when you rebury your face into the mattress. “We'll talk about that later, huh? But you’re right. Good thinking, sweetheart.”

Even that simple amount of praise makes your eyes glaze over. He doesn’t know if you fully understand how long he’s wanted someone to place their trust in him like this

“Grab the pillow, and use that to help stay quiet,” he directs you. “No one but me will hear you this time, okay?”

“Thank you.” You twist on your forearms to smile at him. “I know we do a lot of stopping and starting. Thanks for being cool about that, too.”

He has no idea what kind of scumbags have mistreated you before, but he’s happy to erase their influence on you however he can.

“Stopping and starting is par for the course.” He motions for you to sit up. “Should have done this first anyway.”

Shouta’s never been one to wax poetic, but the moment he presses his mouth to yours, he’s a goner. Your hands tangle in his hair and tug, demanding greater access. He grants it, grinning like a fool while you lick your way into his mouth.

“Stop smiling.” You pull away with a mock huff, but you’re smiling, too, and you don’t look annoyed in the slightest. “It makes it hard to kiss you.”

“We were in the middle of something.”

Your eyes gleam. “Are you gonna spank me again?”

He pulls you to him as a chuckle rumbles out of his chest. He cradles the back of your head and caresses the slim bit of skin exposed above your skirt. “Eager?”

You sigh and press your face into his neck. “Very.”

“Take your clothes off, then, and get back on my lap. Keep the skirt on.”

Shouta flips up the fabric again, massaging the exposed skin when you wriggle. The tips of his fingers brush dangerously close to your slit, and you drop your hips to chase the sensation.

“Ass up, sweetheart.” He jiggles his leg under you. “And answer my question.”

“Yes, yes.” A spark of irritation colors your tone. “I said there was something wrong with me.”

“Still believe that?” He finally touches you, knuckles sliding through your gummy folds, savoring the way your back bows at his touch. You’re soaking and trembling from this alone. “Your thighs are wet, honey. I’m pretty sure you’ll cum around my finger the second I slip it in.”

“Oh god.” Your voice is a reedy little gasp, high with embarrassment.

He sees the mirror across from you on the wall, and an idea sparks. Rearranging you on his lap, he spreads your legs wide and grabs your chin, directing your gaze to where your cunt drools arousal all over his lap.

“There’s nothing wrong with this slutty pussy of mine, is there, baby?”

The hitch in your breath is reward enough. A slow smile spreads across his face as you shake your head.

“That’s exactly right, honey. Nothing wrong with my girl.”

He teases your hole with the tip of his fingers. You shudder in his arms, keeping your eyes locked on his in the mirror.

“You think I don’t like seeing how good I’m makin’ you feel?”

This entire time his cock has been leaking pre and throbbing against the side of his leg. There’s no rush, he knows, because watching you like this will probably have him spilling in his briefs anyway.

He slides a finger up to the knuckle, plugging you up tight. Your eyes roll back in your head when he rolls his thumb over your swollen bud.

"What’s wrong, sweetheart? That bratty tone from earlier gone already?”

He adds another finger, the hand on your waist holding you still as you keep squirming. A feral part of him knows exactly how deep his cock is going to be inside you as he presses down on your lower belly.

“Maybe you’ve never cum like this before because no one’s given you what you needed. Ever think of that, sweetheart?” His gaze scorches you in the reflection. “No one knows how much you like your cunt stuffed up tight. Little whore likes being used a bit roughly, doesn’t she?”

The sound you make is sinful, a shuddering sigh of happiness and arousal that momentarily stops his breath.

“Please, Shouta.” You’re doing your best to be quiet, but he’s not making it easy on you. You fall into a prayer of pleas as he dangles you over the edge for just a little bit longer, the litany of praise and degradation sparking such headiness in your eyes he’s half-afraid he won’t be able to stop.

“Keep your eyes on us. There’s my girl.” He ruts his dick against your ass, groaning into your neck. “Can’t wait to sink inside you, honey. Gonna remold this fucking pussy to the shape of me.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s saying at this point. He needs to see you cum, needs to feel your arousal drip all over his hands.

“Let me see it, baby, let me see how much you like being my good little whore.”

He slaps a hand over your mouth just as you shatter around him, swallowing the majority of your keening wail by pressing your face into the side of his neck.

You go boneless and soft after you cum, limp in his arms and nuzzling into his chest like you belong there.

“Gonna go clean us up,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. You hum in response, falling back on the mattress.

He cleans you slowly, gently, and offers you one of his t-shirts to sleep in. You pat the space next to you, and he crawls in instantly, tucking you into his side.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that.” You look up into his eyes, happiness radiating out of yours. “Thank you, Shouta.”

As your breathing slows and you fall asleep, Shouta realizes that, truthfully, he didn’t know it could feel like that, either.

taglist: @phaticserpent, @magidzi, @hotlosergirl17, @luckybibucky, @heyithinkilike, @getoisinnocent, @personally4runa, @kennys-partner, @geektastic84, @bakery-angel, @constanttea, @aryuunachigiri, @sskorvid, @therefore-evermore, @one-scarred-mofo, @food4dead, @alphabetsoupyum, @cielito--lindo, @rentheannihilator, @juiceeypeach, @imastorytelleritsondvd, @ivydoesit23, @anotherfuckedupdayinthelifeofme, @deputy-azor, @ibby-miyoshi-nerd, @h3rmit-purrrrple420, @lousypotatoes, @hisbitch101, @greedygobbo, @ginevraxrogers, @alucardsdaddyissues, @minminroie, @honeyoru, @gothsquash, @aldebrana, @yansfanficwritings, @babypeapoddd, @fashionably-a-hippie, @junehasnotbeenfound, @citruki, @bitch-spaghetti-o

ONE LAST NOTE: If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! I hope you enjoy this, I had a lot of fun writing it. Next chapter is the two of them being freaky and nasty and horny and fucking like bunnies

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bucketbueckers · 3 months ago

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FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader

content: language, slight cheating (deserved? 🌚), messy, toxicity, gaslighting, angst (w a happy ending bc angst without a happy ending makes me want to jump)

wc: 9.2k

synopsis: The unspoken truth between you and Azzi was that the two of you weren’t just friends. There was always something more, something that lingered just beneath the surface, something that was so glaringly obvious to your mutual friends yet something neither of you wanted to fully acknowledge. You thought that it was safer this way – keeping your relationship with Azzi strictly platonic, saving the both of you from an eventual heartbreak. Unfortunately, it seems that a toxic girlfriend you weren’t quite committed to was actually all it took for the two of you to give up on trying to stay away from each other.

notes: this was supposed to be a lighter read but 💛 anon said i should make a really angsty fic and well. who am i to deny the people. this was not originally going to have as much plot as it did but my fics never stay on track 🌚 also this is a little all over the place so im sorry!!! as always i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

For as long as you’ve known her, Azzi Fudd wasn’t just your friend. There was always something more between you. Gazes that lingered a little too long, a hand on a waist that burned in the most pleasant way possible, softer smiles that seemed to be reserved only for each other.

You met her during your freshman year – she was a freshman, too, a little wide-eyed and definitely out of her element at the crowded frat party. You were only there for “team bonding” and you quickly realized that “team bonding” meant your teammates were going to get plastered and you’d have to be the babysitter. You’d spotted Azzi from the corner of your eye while you were rummaging through the refrigerator for a water bottle, and, in a rare moment of smoothness where you didn’t stumble over your words because Azzi was drop dead fucking gorgeous, like stunningly beautiful, you’d asked if she wanted a water, too. She told you yes. For good measure, you stole a bowl of hummus and some pita chips from the pantry, asked if she wanted to get some air, and that was that. She told you her name under the glow of the porchlight and you told her yours through a coughing fit (which she’d been endlessly amused by) because the hummus was spicy for whatever reason – either way, you and Azzi had an instant connection, one that went a little deeper than hummus and chips at midnight and an easy conversation you’d never expected to have with a stranger, and frankly, you were a little too scared to give up what you had with her to ever think about acting on your growing feelings.

So, you never did. You never let anything slip – never gave any sort of indication that occasionally, you jolt awake late at night, your skin burning with what feels like the phantom press of Azzi’s lips against your skin. You don’t tell anyone how you’ve spent years organizing that little compartment in the corner of your brain that’s dedicated purely to Azzi – the meticulous system of filing cabinet-esque thoughts and facts about her; you know that you store her favorite color right next to her coffee order, only three rows down from vivid images of her smile, the dimples on her cheeks, the slight pout of her lips.

If anyone asked, Azzi Fudd was just your best friend, and you were hers. It seemed as though Azzi was none the wiser – or perhaps she was too polite to say anything otherwise, or maybe she’d felt the same way, too, and was just as afraid of ruining your friendship as you were – no way that was actually the truth, though. Despite your best efforts, you weren’t as subtle as you thought. Paige was convinced that you and Azzi were meant to be. Caroline always glanced at you meaningfully when you and Azzi walked into the room at the same time or when she caught you staring at her from afar. It was as though you and Azzi were just one big inside joke that everyone was in on but the two of you.

It’s a late night at Ted’s when you find yourself nursing a drink at your usual table. Paige had stolen Aubrey and Ayanna away to play some pool, KK, Jana, and Ice were dancing, and Azzi and Caroline went to the bathroom to freshen up. In times like these, you wish you were just a little better at saying no to Azzi – there’s something in the air that’s bringing your mood down and you can’t figure out what it is. It’s like a heaviness weighing down on you, a sort of dread that fills your veins. You’re sure the liquor isn’t helping either. Granted, you’re only a few sips in, not one to ever progress past tipsy, but you’re not really feeling the night out. Azzi had gazed at you with her big doe eyes, lips drawing into a pout. You figure you’d have a better chance at fighting off a bear than living with yourself after denying Azzi something.

“Hey–”

You can’t help the way you startle, lost in your thoughts. Azzi’s tinkling laughter reverberates in this small bubble of space you’ve created in the back corner of the bar; despite yourself, your lips curl into an amused smile, Azzi’s presence alone enough to lift your mood. “How’s the brooding, Batman?”

Huffing out something akin to laughter, you roll your eyes a little, sliding over in the booth to let Azzi in. She sits, eliminating the space between your bodies completely; you swallow, trying to not fixate on the way her shorts ride up on her thighs as her skin presses against yours, and Azzi? She’s the perfect picture of nonchalance, taking a sip from her drink like she’s completely unaware of how she’s turned your brain into mush. “Not brooding,” you argue. You don’t comment on how weak your voice sounds. Blessedly, Azzi doesn’t either, but she sets her drink down on the table to gaze at you.

Her brows draw together when she asks, “You okay?” Her fingers brush across your cheek and up your temple, which makes all of the blood rush to your head. “You’re feeling a little hot. You sure you’re not catching whatever bug Kayla and Jana had?”

You try for a chuckle, but even that comes out unconvincing. “Might be the alcohol,” you deflect, knowing full well that the two and a half sips you’ve had weren’t even enough to get you buzzed. The truth of the matter is that after a while, this just gets exhausting – pretending that you weren’t completely head over heels for Azzi. She’s your best friend. It’s easy to hide your feelings during the day when you’re both occupied – Azzi with basketball, you with softball – but things change at night. You’re looser, less-restrained, and all of the walls you keep up during the day to keep your feelings at bay come crashing down. Everything just feels so much more stronger and part of you starts to wonder if it’s worth it anymore – harboring your feelings. Maybe saying them out loud would be enough for you to start working through them and finally get over Azzi. Maybe you could finally be just friends again and you could spend time with her without hyperfocusing on how each and every one of your nerve-endings light up with activity at the slightest brush of her skin against yours.

Then, Azzi’s smiling at you, something soft and warm and mischievous all at the same time, like she’s got a trick up her sleeve and she knows that you’ll spend hours trying to figure out what it is. Her next words surprise you, moreso when her hand circles around your wrist, intertwining your fingers. “Come dance with me,” she requests.

Your throat bobs as you swallow, glancing at her hesitantly. “What?” you say smartly.

Azzi rolls her eyes, standing and pulling you to her feet. “I said–” She plants her hands on your shoulders and all you can really do is let yours fall to her waist, your fingers catching on her belt loops, “–come dance with me. You’ve been sitting too long. No wonder that half a shot of alcohol is kicking your ass.”

“It was like two shots,” you shoot back, but you let Azzi drag you across the room. You catch Paige’s eye as she leans over the pool table, lining up her shot, and she gives you a knowing look that just makes your cheeks heat up all over again. If you never got the chance to tell Azzi how you’d felt, you were sure that Paige Bueckers and that big ass mouth of hers would find a way to slip up and tell Azzi herself. “And you know that bartender uses that strong tequila.”

“I think you’re just a lightweight, babe,” Azzi states, pulling you into her space as she leads you to the beat of the music. You try to not focus too much on her words, but babe has begun to circulate through your mind on repeat, bumping into things haphazardly. Before you know it, one of your last remaining brain cells has caught the word in a jar like a butterfly and has stored it in that compartment in your brain next to everything you know about Azzi. The jar is tucked onto a shelf, only a few rows down from your filing cabinet system; one day you’ll worry about just how much space in your brain is dedicated to Azzi Fudd, but as her hands burn marks into your skin, guiding your body against hers, you find that you don’t really care.

Neither of you say anything as you dance along to the song. You can feel the bass in the ground, reverberating through your body as it races up your spine. You feel Azzi’s hand splayed across your waist, her grip firm, like there’s some sort of unspoken promise that she’d lose it if you weren’t in her personal space at all times – she spins you around, your back to her front, and the drag of her fingertips against your skin makes your head dizzy. Her breath tickles the back of your neck, her voice sweet as she hums in tune with the singer through the crackling speakers.

It’s in times like these that everything fades away – your hesitation, your insecurities, the worries that Azzi may never truly reciprocate what you feel for her. All you can truly focus on is the gradually lessening space between the two of you, the cloud of her perfume in the air, each and every one of her whispered lyrics and the smile she presses against your temple. You’re not sure if there’s a chance in hell that you’d be able to get over her. But for now, that’s the least of your worries, far too lost in the warmth of her palm against your bare skin where your shirt has ridden up – until you’re dragged back into the real world.

Azzi’s grip has tightened on you, but you barely register it as you open your eyes to see who has interrupted you. It’s a girl, probably around your age, hair dyed a red so dark that it’s nearly brown. She’s wearing a form-fitting black dress, and sure, she’s conventionally attractive, but Azzi has had your attention for nearly four years; you can’t think or look at anyone that’s not her. When the redhead asks Azzi to dance, a hopeful smile on her face, you feel your stomach churn immediately. It’s enough to sober you up fully – drunk not because of the alcohol, but because you’d allowed yourself to fall into Azzi as if the two of you were actually together. You’re reminded of the fact she’s just your best friend. The way she’s holding you means nothing. You feel Azzi’s gaze on you, but before she can say anything, you extract yourself from her hold, smiling unconvincingly at her, and you’re too unfocused to notice the way her face falls.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you say, nodding meaningfully to the redhead as bile pools in your throat. “You have fun, okay?”

You’re gone before Azzi can say anything else, unwilling to look back. You push your way through the crowd to the bar, swallowing back the humiliation and the fact that despite everything, a part of you still yearns for Azzi, and you motion to the bartender, requesting another drink. You dig through your wallet for your card, fingers trembling, cursing under your breath when it refuses to slide out of the little pocket it’s nestled in.

“I got it,” someone else says. You glance up to see an unfamiliar woman offering her card out for the bartender to swipe. She flashes you a charismatic smile and in return, all you can do is raise your brow.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you say, but you slide your wallet back into your pocket, anyway.

“Seemed like you needed a pick me up,” she says, shrugging a shoulder. “Saw you dancing with that girl over there – I was hoping she wasn’t your girlfriend, because I’ve been wanting to buy you a drink all night.”

You take a cautious sip, glancing back into the crowd of people, your eyes finding Azzi immediately. She’s dancing half-heartedly with the redhead, a generous amount of space between the two of them, and she seems to feel your eyes on her because she turns her head, locking eyes with you. You stare for a beat, then avert your gaze, making eye contact with the woman before you. She’s blonde, easy on the eyes, and she seems nice enough. Why not? “We aren’t together,” you state – although you wish you were – and her smile seems to grow.

She tells you her name – Alex – and the two of you dance for about fifteen minutes until Jana, with the grace of a bull in a China shop, interrupts to complain about a tummy ache and that everyone needs to go home. You weren’t sure where she got the logic on that one, but Jana had seemed desperate, and you weren’t going to tell her off in front of Alex.

You and Alex exchanged numbers. Still, she was nice enough, but she wasn’t Azzi. Maybe she was what you needed to get over Azzi, though. Conversation flowed nicely between the two of you and you had some things in common. Maybe you could grow to like her. Maybe you just needed to find someone the opposite of Azzi – blonde, boisterous, and short – to get over the crush you had on her (though you weren’t stupid enough to actually think it was a crush).

Azzi drives you home after Ted’s that night. You’re both silent for the first few minutes until she speaks up. “Did you have fun?” she asks cautiously. You don’t need to ask her to clarify – you know what she means.

You also know that you can’t lie to Azzi. You’ve never been any good at it. She glances at you from the corner of her eye and you feel yourself sink a little further into her passenger seat. “Would’ve had more fun with you,” you confess, watching as some of the tension melts from her shoulders.

“Then why didn’t you?”

You shrug a little, picking at your cuticles. You know exactly why you pushed her away. You just weren’t strong enough to admit it to her. “The redhead seemed to like you,” you say softly. “You don’t have to spend all your time with me. You can like…see other people. Do shit. Have fun. I don’t wanna be your clingy best friend.”

Azzi’s jaw ticks as she signals left, coming to a stop in the turn lane as she waits for the light to change. “What if I want to?” she murmurs. “Spend time with you, I mean. It’s not clingy. It’s just us.” That’s kind of the issue. You don’t voice that thought out loud, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of your heart, too. She speaks again before you can, her voice coming out in an almost petulant huff. “I don’t even remember her name.”

At that, you choke on a laugh, finally lifting your head to look at her. “Whose?” you ask. “The redhead?”

“Yeah,” Azzi confirms, pressing on the gas once the light turns green. “She wasn’t you.”

You swallow thickly. “Alex’s not you, either,” you whisper.

Azzi makes a soft noise in the back of her throat. “Alex,” she repeats, like she’s in disbelief. “Do you like her?”

You shrug again, noncommittal. “She’s…nice,” you say. “And she bought me a seven dollar drink, so…” Azzi doesn’t find that as humorous as you did, her lips drawing into a pout, one you would have teased her for had the situation been less tense. “Az, what’s the issue? I was with her for like, twenty-five minutes. I’m not getting married to her.”

That makes Azzi fall silent again, contemplating her next words. “No issue,” she says, clearing her throat, as if sobering back up. “I’m sorry. I think the alcohol made me moody.”

You don’t comment on how she barely made it through her first drink before switching to water, but she didn’t comment on your lies and deflections, either. “It’s okay,” you say, summoning the courage to nudge her gently. She glances at you once more, a soft look on her face as you say, “Who’s brooding now, Batman?”

That makes her roll her eyes, giggling under her breath before she refocuses on the road. The tension in the car dissolves as she turns on your shared playlist, continuing to drive. For a moment, it feels like nothing is wrong. Tonight was just weird. There’s nothing going on between you and Azzi. Then, your phone buzzes in your lap, the screen lighting up with a text notification from an unknown number. It’s Alex – letting you know that she enjoyed getting to meet you and that she’d like to see you again. You feel the unmistakable feeling of dread wrap its iron fist around your heart. Too caught up in your own reaction to the message, you don’t notice how Azzi’s knuckles turn white as they grip the wheel.

Against your better judgement, you do see Alex again. You stared at her message for a few hours, trying to come up with one good reason why you couldn’t give her a chance, but your mind came up blank every time. She was nice, attentive, had a good sense of humor, and she was wholly focused on you when you’d spend time together. Still, no matter what, you couldn’t shake the image of warm brown eyes from the forefront of your mind. You tell yourself that it’s not supposed to be an overnight change. You don’t love someone for four years and expect it to go away. So, you give Alex that chance (even though it feels so wrong), and she treats you to a few dates over the course of three weeks.

You get to know her. At the very least, she’s a good friend and a charismatic date. She tips well, makes you laugh, and she has an adorable little weiner dog named Bruiser (“Legally Blonde style,” she’d said jokingly, which did make you laugh, mostly because Bruiser, despite his name, was dressed in a cute pair of pink pajamas). By the third date, you start to feel a little hopeful that you’re finally making progress. Alex doesn’t push you – she seems to understand that you want to take it slow, which is something that you’re grateful for. She hasn’t asked you to be her girlfriend yet, either, which is also something you’re grateful for. Becoming her girlfriend this early feels too real, like the idea of you and Azzi is something that you’re fully leaving in the past. Keeping up the facade around Azzi does weigh on you, but it’s become something that feels like a core part of you and being without it feels wrong.

Speaking of Azzi, you don’t tell her too much about the Alex situation. She doesn’t ask much about her, either, a barely concealed look of irritation clouding her features whenever her name is mentioned. She hasn’t told you that she doesn’t like Alex, but at this point, you think her telling you is more of a formality than anything else. It’s clear as day that she hates Alex’s guts, although you don’t suppose Azzi will ever tell you why.

Maybe you’ll be better off this way – having one part of your life that doesn’t revolve around Azzi – well, doesn’t revolve completely around Azzi. Hopefully this little bit of independence will be good for you. This feels more like blind reassurance than actual confidence, but you’ll take what you can get at this point.

As you and Alex spend more time together, something changes with Azzi. At first, it’s nothing serious and you hardly even notice it. Azzi’s texts come a little more frequent, your FaceTimes a little longer. It’s miniscule especially because you and Azzi already text frequently and you spend hours on FaceTime together, but it’s more like a concerted effort to keep you with her and talking to her for longer periods of time. You’re not exactly sure why, although you’re not complaining; you’ve always enjoyed your late night phone conversations where Azzi loses her filter and rambles on and on for hours about the funny things that happen at practice or the latest picture of Stewie that her mom had sent her. You do have to admit this change in behavior makes it a little more difficult to get over Azzi – the constant proximity and speaking isn’t doing you any favors – but you can’t just abandon Azzi because you’re talking to Alex now. Your goal is to go back to a complete, platonic friendship with her, not ice her out completely.

Azzi’s behavior does progress, though. Still, it’s subtle – she’ll come over to your apartment more often or invite you over to hers more frequently. You’ll spend the night watching movies, giggling over the shitty acting or singing along to the Disney movies that Azzi ropes you into watching with her (as if you’d ever say no to her). It ends with her convincing you to stay over or her coming up with a slick excuse how she should just stay the night since her apartment is so far away (that you see right through – Azzi Fudd is a lot of things but a good liar is not one). Sometimes she’ll leave behind a shirt or a hair tie at your apartment; when you ask if she wants you to bring it over, her response is always the same: “Nah, keep it. I don’t have enough space in my closet for that shirt,” or “I noticed you were running out of hair ties anyways – you should just keep it.”

(When Alex comes over, she’ll notice each and every new addition, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Azzi left her sweatpants this time?” she asks, gingerly moving them from the foot of your bed to your desk chair. You don’t notice the bothered look on her face as you hum.

“Yeah,” you say, not thinking much of it. “She said she has too many.”

“Right,” Alex hums, not quite convinced. “You don’t want any of mine?”

Confused, you glance at Alex, busy folding your own laundry. “Your what?”

Alex huffs quietly. “...Forget about it.”)

Then, the behavior ramps up. Azzi is touchier, borderline clingy, which is different because you’re usually the clingy one between you and Azzi. It’s not that obvious when the two of you are watching movies at night – she’ll just lean against you, her head on your shoulder and a leg slung over yours, but in public? She’s almost possessive, always needing to be in contact one way or the other, a firm arm wrapped around your waist at all times. When tipsy randoms approach you to ask to dance, she doesn’t even let them finish their sentences before she’s tightening her arm around you, shaking her head with faux sympathy, and saying, “Sorry, she’s spoken for.”

In public is one thing. But in public when Alex is around is when Azzi really shines. You and Alex aren’t official yet, which is something that Azzi seems to take advantage of. Azzi buys all your drinks, glancing at Alex when she smiles that honey-sweet smile and says, “C’mon, you know I got you, right?” She always whisks you away to dance before Alex can get the chance to, and to be honest, you let her. Deep down, you know that you’d rather be doing this anyway – dancing with Azzi, letting her pull you close like she’s trying to stake a claim or prove something to someone, letting her whisper the lyrics in your ear and the both of you laughing when she starts making up her own words because the actual ones don’t make any sense.

You don’t think much of Azzi’s behavior until Alex calls you that night when Azzi’s in the shower. Alex offered to drive you home, but Azzi stepped in to let her know that you’d be staying over with Azzi to watch a new movie that had recently come out – you weren’t aware those were the plans, but you didn’t mind, either. You’re doing your skincare at Azzi’s vanity when your phone rings. Part of you is tempted to let it go to voicemail, but Alex had seemed bothered, and while the two of you weren’t official yet, you didn’t want to be an asshole.

“Hello?” you greet, pressing the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you rub in your moisturizer.

“Hey,” Alex says. You hear her exhale sharply. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I don’t really know how to, like, explain this, but I feel like you keep blowing me off for Azzi,” Alex states, which makes you pause in your movements. “I feel like Azzi is jealous – of me – and she keeps trying to, fuck, I don’t know, worm her way in between us to keep you away from me? And you just let her do that shit.” You’re silent, letting her words echo in your brain, but she keeps speaking before you get the chance to. “I know she’s your friend. But ‘friends’ don’t behave like that. She’s one day away from pissing on you like a dog to mark her territory and I just need to know – do you even like me? Is this going anywhere? Because I feel like I’m going fucking crazy. I’m trying to be nice about it but at this point I can’t tell what you want from me.”

You open your mouth, then close it, looking vaguely fish-like in the mirror. You can hear Alex’s breathing from the other end of the line as you try to gather your thoughts. Finally, you settle, and gently you say, “Azzi is my best friend.” You can almost visualize Alex’s eye roll, the soft huff that she thinks the microphone doesn’t pick up on. “She’s not jealous. Just…protective, I guess. She’s not trying to get in between us – we’re just always close like that.”

“Then tell her to chill,” Alex says frustratedly. “It’s making me feel like I’m the other woman – like I’m just something you’re stringing along in case Azzi gets bored. Did she ever act like this before I started taking you out? Why is she suddenly so obsessed with being all over you now that she doesn’t have all of your attention?”

“Alex,” you say calmly, surprising yourself. “I am not your girlfriend.”

She laughs bitterly from the other line. “Oh, it’s like that? What, I take you on a few dates and it didn’t mean shit to you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you hiss. “You don’t have a claim over me. You’re acting like a dog trying to mark its territory. You are not the other woman. There isn’t even a woman. Ask me to be your girlfriend – or don’t – but leave Azzi out of this.”

Alex doesn’t say anything for a few beats until she scoffs. “Okay. Whatever. Have a good fucking night – I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up without a second word. You roll your eyes, huffing, dropping your phone face down on the surface of Azzi’s vanity as you continue your skincare routine.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Azzi’s voice startles you, which causes you to groan and Azzi to giggle. She murmurs an apology as she comes up behind you, resting her palms over your shoulders, her thumbs pressing into your shoulder blades pleasantly. “Everything okay?”

You shrug, sighing again as her fingers work out the knots in your back. “Alex is just being weird,” you say, grunting when her fingers dig in harder than intended at the mention of her name. Azzi whispers another apology, softening her motions.

“What’d she say?” Azzi coaxes.

You meet her eyes through the mirror, seeing nothing but concern and a willingness to help on her features. “She just…I don’t know. She said you’re ‘one day away from pissing on me like a dog trying to mark its territory.’”

Azzi’s jaw drops, pausing in disbelief for a moment until peals of giggles fall from her lips. Her amusement makes you feel a little bit better about the situation. “Gross,” she says.

“I know,” you agree. “She thinks you’re trying to get between me and her. I told her there wasn’t even a ‘me and her.’ She hasn’t asked me to be her girlfriend.”

Azzi snorts. “How’d she take that one?”

“She told me to have a good fucking night and that she’d see me tomorrow.”

“Yikes,” Azzi says.

You hum again. “Yeah. I’m not really bothered, though. Don’t really wanna deal with it right now. She thinks you’re obsessed with being all over me and that you’re possessive. I said we’re just best friends, like we’ve always been like this?” It’s then that you catch onto Azzi’s sudden silence. Concerned, you turn in your chair to look at Azzi directly. “Az? You good?”

“You know you could do better than her, right?” Azzi’s words surprise you. Your jaw falls slightly, brows drawing together in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Azzi emphasizes, “what’s so good about Alex?” She spits her name like it’s poison. “She danced with you one night at a bar and thinks that makes you exclusive. She’s jealous, possessive, and she doesn’t even try to be cordial to me, Paige, Jana, or anyone. You could do so much better than her. You know you don’t have to settle.”

“I’m not settling,” you argue, even though you know you 100% are settling because you can’t have Azzi.

Azzi gives you a knowing look, one that softens when she sees the confusion in your features, the angst, the insecurity that no matter what, the decision you’re making isn’t a good one. “I just feel like I’m losing you to her,” she admits in a whisper. “That you’re gonna choose her over me.”

“Az,” you breathe out, your heart aching. “I’d never do that. You’re not gonna lose me.”

“I feel like I already have,” Azzi says. She swallows, her eyes searching yours, and she takes a deep breath like this conversation is physically destroying her. She shifts, staring at the wall instead of you, and the way her next breath comes out in a shudder makes you feel like she’s realized something damning. “I don’t… I like being us. Before there was an Alex. And I know I don’t have a claim over you – but it feels like things are changing faster than we realize. That we’re changing and I can’t even figure out why or what’s different because you’re with Alex.”

You soften, standing to face her fully, and you cup her cheeks, pulling her attention back to you. “We aren’t changing,” you promise. “You’re still you. I’m still me. Alex won’t change that.”

“Do you even like her?” You falter, not expecting Azzi to ask you that, and your silence is all the answer she needs. “Why are you with someone you don’t even like?”

“I’m not with her,” you say weakly, but Azzi is shaking her head, pressing on.

“You don’t have to settle,” she reminds you again. “She is not your only option.”

You can’t tell if Azzi is trying to convince you or herself of that. You don’t have the courage to be honest with her, to tell her the real reason you’ve spent so long trying to make yourself believe that you truly liked Alex. So you don’t. Instead, you whisper, “Do we have to talk about this tonight?”

Azzi’s face falls slightly, but you hardly notice it, too caught up in the way your heart nearly pounds out of your chest. She nods, stepping back, and she clears her throat. “Yeah. Whatever you want.”

You can recognize the look in Azzi’s face from a mile away. Softening again, you reach out, wrapping her in a tight hug, one that she immediately melts into. “Thank you,” you murmur into her neck, her skin still a little warm to the touch from her shower. She doesn’t say anything in response to that, instead tightening her arms around your waist, and exhaling deeply.

Alex asks you to be her girlfriend the night after your conversation with Azzi. She’d showed up to your apartment unprompted, bouquet in hand and an apologetic expression on her face. “I was out of line,” she’d said, sincerity in her features. “It wasn’t right of me to get upset or accuse you and Azzi of what I accused you of.” Your heart was pounding out of your chest while she explained herself, apologizing and making it right all in one, but the way your heart raced wasn’t out of anticipation. It wasn’t because you’d spent so long wishing that Alex would ask. Your pulse thrummed because of pure dread and adrenaline coursing through your veins. This wasn’t what you wanted. Not at all. You wanted Azzi – you’ve wanted nobody else but her for close to four years.

But Alex wanted you. Azzi didn’t. You needed to get over her. So, feeling as though you’re making a terrible decision you may never be able to come back from, you say, “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

For a while, things are okay. Azzi clearly isn’t happy with you and Alex now being official, but your friendship stays the same. You try to split your time between the two of them, not wanting to feel as though you have to make a choice between your best friend and your girlfriend, and for the first month that you and Alex are together, it works well enough.

At least it does until Alex decides that it’s not enough.

It’s a Friday night, and you’re supposed to go over to Paige’s dorm to hang out with her and the rest of the team. They’d had a nailbiter game on Thursday and between practices and exams, you all just wanted to take the time to spend together and relax. KK was supposed to be bringing her Switch and you were looking forward to beating Paige’s smug ass at Mario Kart.

“You’re seriously going out?” Alex says from her bed, where she’s been watching you touch up your make-up in the mirror.

You resist an eye roll, not really wanting to argue, so calmly, you explain, “I’m just going to Paige’s to hang out with the team.”

“Feels like you never want to make time with me anymore,” Alex complains. You don’t respond to that, focusing on your mascara, until she speaks up again. “Is Azzi gonna be there?”

Your hand falters, smudging against your cheekbone, and you sigh in frustration as you dig through your clutch for a makeup wipe. “She’s on the team, so yes, Azzi will be there.”

“You do know you’re not with her, right?” That makes you stop moving completely, sliding the wand into the applicator. You turn to meet Alex’s gaze, who seems proud at having elicited a reaction.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not with Azzi,” Alex repeats, as if you needed a reminder. That’s the reason why you’re in this fucked up mess anyways, trying to make yourself like someone who’s not actually the woman you love. “So why do you keep running back to her at the end of the day? You’ve been friends for, what, four years now? If she wanted you, don’t you think she would have done something about it by now?” Despite the anger bubbling in your chest, embarrassment also blooms on your cheeks. “I want you. She doesn’t. Stop chasing her and running away from me – it’s not going to change anything.”

For that, you have no true response, your heart racing. You just feel trapped now. This isn’t what you wanted at all, but you feel like you’re too far in to quit now. “Stay in with me,” Alex states. It’s not a plea, not a request. It’s a demand – and for a moment, you think maybe she’s right. You’re still her girlfriend. You have to spend time with her.

You text Paige, letting her know that you can’t make it tonight. Her response is swift, an over dramatic series of crying emojis followed up by a message that makes your heart constrict – “Az was lookin forward to this all week, she’s gonna crash out lol.” You don’t really know what else to say, so you just send Paige another apology before powering your phone off, knowing that as soon as Azzi finds out, you’re going to be the first person she calls.

You and Alex curl up on her couch, browsing through Hulu for a show to watch. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders feels wrong. It’s too stifling, too possessive. It’s nothing like the way Azzi would wrap her arm around you – making you feel safe and grounded all at once. Alex is nothing like Azzi and in the beginning, you thought that was just what you needed to let go of Azzi. Now, it feels like giving up Azzi feels like giving up a part of yourself.

Another month passes by in a blur of daily disappearances, shitty excuses, and daydreams of soft brown eyes and a dimpled smile. Anytime you’d try to make plans with Azzi or her teammates, Alex would remind you of all the reasons why you shouldn’t. You’re with me – not them. Why did you pursue me if you were just going to discard me? And at a certain point in time, the edges start getting blurry. You can’t even remember if you’d truly made those promises to Alex in the first place.

Azzi tried to reach out a few times, but Alex’s watchful eye had creeped into every facet of your life. She was there to pick you up from your practices. There wasn’t a single plan you’d made that she hadn’t carefully looked over and approved – most of them she invited herself along for, just to make sure you wouldn’t stray too far away. Weeks passed and you couldn’t remember the last time you had a life to yourself that wasn’t corrupted by every inch of the woman you’d danced with at the bar.

Escaping feels too difficult. Lately, it feels as though Alex knows more about you than you know about yourself. She strings you along just to yank the chain, leaving you unmoored and choking around a collar you were sure you’d fastened yourself. She’s devoted and loving one moment, cold and apathetic the next when she feels as though you hadn’t done enough to earn her affection. She’s attached at your hip for one week, then leaves you drowning the next when she suddenly ghosts, leaving you wondering if you’d truly had a girlfriend at all.

The irony isn’t lost on you. Alex had accused you of stringing her along for the ride to get over Azzi, and now here she is. You don’t think she’s trying to use you to get over someone, but perhaps she’s punishing you for the way you’d chosen Azzi at every opportunity at the beginning of your relationship. You’re doing the time now, you suppose, although every morning you wonder if and when your sentence would end; you hope that Alex would grow tired of you one day and finally dispose of you. You weren’t sure if you had the confidence to drag yourself out of this mess despite how easily you threw yourself into it.

“You know Azzi’s like, in love with you, right?” Alex asks you one day. You’re sitting at the table, poking at your chicken and spinach mindlessly. Your girlfriend sits across from you, arms crossed and plate clean. Her words make you falter, your fork stilling, and you don’t glance up, not wanting to confront the expression on her face. “I recognized it the first night at the bar. She was all over you while you were dancing, holding you like she owned you. When she went to dance with someone else, it was a complete shift – she didn’t even want that other girl. Just you.”

At that, you glance up finally, searching Alex’s eyes. They’re cold, nothing like the Azzi’s warm brown that you’d spent years memorizing the exact hue of. “What are you trying to say?” you ask, because you truly don’t understand her point. Doesn’t she understand that she’s won? That she’s broken you down, separated you from your friends, that she’s interwoven herself into the very fabric of your life? What else could you have for her to take?

Alex shrugs, a picture of nonchalance, but you see the tension in her shoulders anyways. “I just want you to know why I’m doing this,” she says, which makes a cold feeling course through your veins. “I don’t want to be the bad guy. You know that, right? I just want to protect you, from someone who wants to take you from me. Azzi couldn’t take care of you like I could. She always had this agenda from the very first night we met. Do you understand that?”

Your fingers are trembling around your fork. “Alex,” you whisper, drawing her attention to you. Her head cocks like you’re a wounded animal on the side of the road and she’s studying you to determine if she should leave you – or at the very least, move you out of harm’s way. You know her, though. She’s the type of person to keep on driving. “I’m tired. Can we not do this right now?”

Her lips curl into a smug, self-satisfied smile, because she knows. She knows she’s elicited a reaction, even if it’s not as obvious. She knows that she’s won this round. She stands, leaving her plate behind, and she looms behind you as her hand trails across your shoulders. Then, she leans in, planting the barest of kisses to your temple that makes your body tighten with barely concealed fear and dread. “I’m just trying to look out for you,” she whispers, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “One day you’ll understand what I’ve done for you.”

She leaves and it’s only then that you allow your body to relax. Exhaling deeply, you bury your head in your hands, feeling tears of anguish and frustration building at your waterline. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You don’t need to look at it to know who it is. Azzi has been trying to reach you for a while. She hasn’t given up, but you haven’t had the energy to text her back, to tell her about what’s going on. Now, you think you might have to take that chance.

That night, while Alex snores unknowingly next to you, you collect your bag and all of the clothes stored in her drawers. With quiet footsteps, you exit her apartment, already reaching for your phone with trembling fingers as you dial the one number you know will pick up at any time. It barely rings once before the line clicks through.

Azzi’s greeting is a murmur of your name, both in disbelief and ever present relief. “Azzi,” you say back, your voice barely reaching her. “Please come pick me up.”

“Do you want water? Juice?”

Azzi’s voice cuts through the haze in your brain. When she picked you up, neither of you had said anything, but you’d hugged her tight enough that she groaned a little, which made you smile for what feels like the first time in forever. She let you into her apartment wordlessly, took your bag to her room, and sat you down on the couch.

“I’m okay,” you say. All you really wanted was to feel comfortable in your own skin again, but being in Azzi’s presence is doing wonders for you. You can’t help but feel a bit of residual guilt – all of this could have been avoided had you been braver, if you’d denied Alex from the start or if you could just muster the courage to tell Azzi that you’ve been in love with her for four years. “Can we just…can we go to bed?”

Azzi nods quickly, murmuring an affirmative, and she links her hand with yours as she leads you down the familiar hallways. It shouldn’t bring you as much peace as it does, but holding Azzi’s hand makes you feel like you’re a sailor coming home after a long voyage and finally spotting the lighthouse in the distance. Azzi’s bed is a welcome comfort and you fall into place next to her, feeling the tension melt out of your shoulders.

You can feel her next to you, the warmth of her body, the smell of her perfume in the air, and you feel your heart ache all over again. This was where you were supposed to be. Not with Alex. Even if you and Azzi remained friends forever and you kept your feelings for her close to your chest, it would still be better than going through these past few weeks with Alex on repeat.

“I missed you,” Azzi admits, her voice cutting through the darkness in the room. She shifts. You can feel her eyes on you, so you shift, too, coming face to face with her.

“I missed you too,” you whisper, watching as a soft smile spreads across her face. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

You swallow thickly. “For everything. For Alex. For leaving you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Azzi promises. Hearing those words is like coming up for air after being submerged for so long. You don’t know if she knows just how healing it was to hear her say that. Her hand finds yours, squeezing you gently. “I’m sorry for not doing more to help you.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shoot back, a coy smile on your face, which makes Azzi giggle.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Azzi murmurs.

You think that you should – that you owe it to yourself and to Azzi to be honest about the last few months. So you do. Azzi listens to you as you start from the beginning, outlining the course of your and Alex’s relationship and where it derailed. When you finish, Azzi’s face is full of concern, sadness, and a slight determination. She’d apologized again. You told her it was okay, mostly because it was okay. You would be okay.

“Do you love her?” Azzi asks a few beats later, perhaps a bit selfishly.

“No,” you confess, feeling Azzi relax against you. “I never did.” She nods, and you both fall silent for a moment until you speak up again. “Az?” She hums, her fingers brushing against your skin. “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth? Alex said something earlier and I’m…I’m just tired of feeling like I’m crazy.”

“Anything,” she promises.

“Do you love me?” The words come out less composed than you’d been trying for, your voice cracking at the end, but you don’t really care. You need answers. You’d spent so many years loving Azzi from afar, but for Alex to say she’s confident in Azzi loving you back? This could change everything.

“Of course I do,” Azzi says, her words a little jilted. “You’re my best friend.”

You feel your heart drop, but you press forward. “Not in that way, Az.”

You can hear her breath hitch. At first, you’re not sure if you’re going to get a response, but she tightens her grip on your waist, and admits, “Yeah. I love you.”

Silence encompasses the both of you. Azzi doesn’t push – she never does, and that might be one of the things you love most about her. She lets you process that revelation on your own. At first, a part of you wonders if it was truly that easy in the first place, if all you ever needed to do was ask Azzi. The fear of her saying anything but yes outweighed the hope. Now that you’ve heard it, you can’t deny how much lighter your chest feels, the hope that swells in your chest. “Say it again,” you request.

“I love you,” Azzi swears, her voice a little firmer this time, her hands holding onto you like she’s afraid you’re going to disappear completely. “I love you. I have for years. Seeing you with Alex almost destroyed me.”

Feeling a little braver, you sit up, moving your legs to straddle her waist. There’s nothing inherently sexual about it, but the sheer closeness makes you feel a little more grounded, especially when her hands steady you by the hips. “I’m sorry,” you say again, your voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning.

“Don’t be,” Azzi murmurs, her thumb brushing against your hip bone.

“I was only with her because I thought I could get over you,” you confess, which makes her jaw relax, her face soften. “God, Az, I’ve been in love with you forever. I didn’t think I could have you.”

Despite the heaviness of the moment, Azzi’s lips quirk into a fond, relieved smile. Her hands leave your hips, fingers brushing your arms as she trails them up. She hooks a finger into the collar of your shirt, pulling you down to her as she whispers, “You have me. Completely.”

You’re not thinking about the consequences as you finally kiss Azzi Fudd – you’re not concerned about the fact that technically, you have a girlfriend that you’re technically cheating on, nor are you concerned about what this means for you and Azzi. The logistics are a problem for you tomorrow. Azzi sighs against you, her lips insistent, fingers tangling in your shirt – and to be honest, it’s a pleasant paradox. Alex is a taker in every definition of the word, but Azzi swallows each little sound you make against her lips, pressing firmer against you to take everything you’ll give her, but there’s a bit of mutualism in the way you and Azzi simultaneously take and give.

One of her hands releases your shirt to cup your cheek, her palm warm against your skin as it rapidly heats. You’re both passionate, a little desperate, but despite it all, the love between the two of you is palpable – you can feel it in your heart and the way it swells; it courses through your veins, leading you home, reminding you that this is a love you’ve spent years harboring and cultivating.

People always say your first kiss with someone you love is a little earth-shattering, that it’s like fireworks or coming home. To you, this kiss with Azzi feels something like freedom. It feels like you don’t have to keep any more secrets from her or yourself.

Azzi breaks away, her chest heaving and her breath warm against your lips. “I love you,” she whispers again, holding you tighter, insistent. “Leave her. Please.”

You’re nodding before Azzi has even finished her plea. “I will,” you swear, kissing her again. You grin when Azzi chases you, pressing one last kiss to your lips before a soft smile spreads across her features. “I love you.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything in response to that – she doesn’t have to. She presses a kiss to your temple and you stretch out across her body, her arms wrapping around you once more. You fall asleep next to her feeling free and at peace – you’re not quite out of the woods yet, but you’re almost there, and you have more moments like these to look forward to with Azzi.

She has an early practice that next morning, so she’s gone before you’re awake, but you know what you need to do. You walk the short distance to your apartment, make yourself a coffee to mentally prepare, and you send a quick text to Alex – ignoring the fifteen unread messages she’s sent between the hours of 2am to 7am – telling her to come to your apartment so you can talk. You don’t wait around for a response. You get a trash bag and start collecting all of the shit she’s left at your apartment during the time you were together – clothes, toiletries, a lone coffee mug (that you’re sure shatters once you drop it into the bag, but you don’t really care).

All of Alex’s belongings are secured in the trash bag when there’s a knock at your door. You take a deep breath to calm yourself, dragging the bag behind you as you step up to your door. You open it halfway, raising a hand and making an annoyed noise when Alex tries to walk in. “No,” you say firmly, “stay outside.”

A look of annoyance flashes across her face, but she does as you’ve commanded, crossing her arms. You reach for the bag, throwing it haphazardly behind her. “So, here’s what’s happening,” you begin. “We’re breaking up.” She opens her mouth to say something, but you cut her off with a raised hand again. “I don’t really care what you have to say. We’re done. This is all you’re getting from me. Lose my number and get fucked.”

Unceremoniously, you slam the door in her face, locking it immediately. You bury your head in your hands as your pulse pounds against your ribcage, but as you listen to the sound of her footsteps fading away, that familiar feeling of freedom returns tenfold. You could cry with relief, although you don’t, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You’re free now, and you know who your first call will be to.

Azzi picks up on the first ring, sounding a little out of breath as she greets you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you respond, feeling the smile creep up onto your lips – you’re sure she can hear the excitement and the relief in your voice.

And she does. She laughs a little, sounding relieved, too. “I’m on my way,” is all she says, bidding you one last goodbye before she hangs up.

You can’t get rid of your smile, and thankfully, she only keeps you waiting for about fifteen minutes. She opens your door with her key and walks in like she’s been here hundreds of times before – which she has, because there’s no part of your life that is complete without Azzi in it. She spots you immediately. You stand up from the couch, dropping your phone on the cushion, and you meet her in the middle.

Azzi is a little sweaty, disheveled from practice, but you don’t care as her arms encircle your waist, pulling you flush into her with pure relief in her laughter. You wrap yours around her neck, standing on the tips of your toes to reach her. You kiss her, something softer than the first one you’d shared the night prior. You feel her smile against your lips, which only makes you smile, too, your noses brushing against each other as you both share a breathless little laugh. She tightens her grip around you and you can’t find it in yourself to mind – you know that Azzi is always going to be there to protect you, and finally being hers after all these years is something you know that you’re not going to screw up – you did your time.

#azzi fudd #azzi fudd x reader #uconn wbb #ncaa wbb #wbb x reader #azzi x reader

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smuttysabina · 6 months ago

Text

The Most Motherly Maknaes

(Male Reader x Purple Kiss Swan and Dreamcatcher Gahyun, 6K Words) Tags: Mommy Fetish; Threesome, Tittyfucking; Double Tittyfucking, Fat sloppy creampies; Praise Fetish; Virgin Sex; Yet more Mommy Fetish; Oral and Vaginal Sex; Lots of Kissing and pampering; Oh hey, Jihyo is in this one as well, what a surprise; You don't get to fuck her though, maybe next time; Implications of Incest; Pregnancy; Also apron fetish I guess?

You had always had an absent mother, so it was somewhat of a pleasant surprise when you acquired two new ones, who were far more attentive. Their breasts squishing against either side of your chest, while the warmth of their breath tickles your neck, you find yourself trapped in their less than wholesome embrace. One of them is demanding of your attention, her luscious lips split by a wicked smile as she rewards your boldness with further "encouragement", pushing you to indulge yourself more. While the other is kindly and supportive, her fuller curves drowning you in affection whenever you crave solace, but always pressing you to try again. Gahyun and Swan may have been abysmal at getting you to focus fully upon your calculus homework, but they were excellent at satiating your desire for motherly attention; if not your passion for something more... Their hands gently close around the embarrassingly obviously bulge in your pants as they both whisper in your ears,

"Good boy..."

With your father busy spending his evenings plowing his secretary, and your mother constantly overseas on business (as well as whoring around), it had fallen to your dear cousin Jihyo to check in on you in what scattered time she had. Of course, as an active idol wrangling eight other active idols, she had only been able to visit on occasion, and when she had, more often than not she arrived dragging a whole train of girls. So you became well acquainted with the ladies of Twice, though soon enough girls from other groups would spice the mix, and looking back on it there was perhaps a noticeable preference for idols with matronly features... Beautiful Momo with her ditzy airs, Nayeon who always looked somewhat carnivorously at you, Jeongyeon who spent so much time teasing you, the elegant Karina, always accompanied by a warm Winter, kindly Nancy who doted upon you; and of course, many more who were lacking in such sizable assets. By the time you had finally grown into a man, these gorgeous women had pranced through your dreams on a regular basis, and Nayeon had started drooling uncontrollably whenever she was around you for more than five minutes. This attraction had not gone unnoticed, and so of course Jihyo had decided to act before she found the two of you in the closet; or really, any of the other idols. The last time Itzy had visited, Yeji had had to physically restrain Yuna, and the usually dorky leader herself had shown brief lapses where she would stare intensely at you, her eyes twitching spasmodically. To forestall the tragic loss of your virginity to a horde of slavering idols then, Jihyo, in her infinite yet somewhat warped wisdom, came to the obvious solution to the problem...

The afternoon had begun like any other, the dull mundanity of schoolwork, punctuated only by the brief breaks of entertainment when you would glance at your phone during a break. At least until the ping of a notification snatched your attention, and you read the message from your cousin Jihyo. She and a few (so probably a "few" dozen) girls would be swinging by to visit, but unfortunately she herself would be delayed by a few hours due to something coming up at work; but of course you would be a dear and entertain the girls already on their way? With a resigned sigh you halt your tiring journey through calculus, and hurriedly tidy up the place, not that it ever really got very messy, but still; the devil was in the details. After getting things touched up, you slouch back onto the couch, stuck in that annoying state of wary idleness as you wait for your slightly unwanted guests to arrive; hopefully Jihyo would be able to finish up whatever she was working on quickly, so you wouldn't get distracted for too long. You had barely started to settle in when the doorbell rang, and grumbling softly you scurry over to the door, throwing it open in welcome to reveal not the horde you had expected, but merely two idols. Gahyun and Swan blink bemusedly at your shocked face, before politely inviting themselves inside, squishing themselves against you in a warm hug that sends your heart racing a little.

The pair were, well, sizably endowed to say the least, a fact that remained prominent in your mind as you lead them to the couch, and as they slip in on either side of you. It was a struggle to not stare dumbly down at their exposed cleavage, but you manage to contain yourself to polite glances, and the girls do not comment if you perhaps spend a little too long looking. Swan was the more curvaceous of the two, her top straining to contain her hefty breasts, her body so soft you could drown in it. Gahyun meanwhile made up for her comparative lack of shapeliness with a vivacious and teasing attitude that soon had her teasing her companion relentlessly; and her chest was still sizable enough to distract anyone. The fact that both maknaes had you comparing their ample bodies, and not the intricacies of derivations, did not bode well for your productivity this night; not that the girls weren't trying to be supportive. Like any good guest, the idols did their best to repay your generosity as a host by helping you through your mundane tasks, so that you might fully entertain them when they are done. Therefore, they peered intently over your work, rummaging through their brains for long-forgotten knowledge before dispensing it in a haphazard manner; and with every movement they seemed to press closer against you. Soon you can barely move your arm without brushing against their breasts, as they each encourage you in their own ways; Gahyun pushing you, while Swan guides you.

You really would like to be able to finish your work, but your hindbrain was starting to swamp your forebrain with hormones, distorting its attempts to solve complex mathematics; those "3"s really looked a lot like Gahyun's lips... Something warm bulges against your leg, your body reacting naturally to the intimate proximity of such gorgeous ladies, even as you do your best to ignore its lascivious demands. But the busty maknaes are more receptive to your body's desires, they can smell the stench of lust emanating from you, and they seem more than willing to satiate it. The idol's hushed advice now steams against your neck and ears, making you shiver, their curvaceous forms invade your personal space beyond the point of politeness, and their fingers tip-toe oh so delicately along your thighs. Your pen slips from your grasp as you feel something soft press against your neck, and a stain of wetness drags itself up the other side. You shudder as the two idols kiss their way along your neck, but withdrawing before they could reach your own lips. The pair smile at you from either side, "Ready to become a man?" Gahyun purrs seductively, Before Swan chimes in, "Don't worry," she sighs, "We'll be gentle, a good boy like you deserves to have a nice first time, don't you think?"

Indeed, this was not exactly how you had planned on losing your virginity, you had imagined it would have been beneath Nayeon as she rode your first load out of you, or pinned down by one of the nymphos of Itzy, or even shuddering between the limber thighs of Wonyoung as she haughtily consents to opening her legs for the blood-relative of Jihyo; but not by such... motherly women. They politely take their turns kissing you, all the while praising you, scratching at an itch you had always born. Gahyun's lips are greedy for yours, her tongue eagerly slipping into your mouth to tussle with your own; then it is Swan's turn, her kisses more demure and reserved, more keen on showing you how to kiss properly than using your mouth for her own pleasure. Your face is already flushed by the time they are satisfied, your heart hammering in your chest, and they have barely even gotten started yet. With a knowing smile, Swan sits erect, reaching behind herself to unhook her bra and allowing her capacious breasts to droop freely down her chest. She leans back, allowing you to drink in the sight of her enormous assets, their dark nipples accentuated by her sizable areolas. Swan brings your head down into her cleavage, smushing your face between her boobs and urging you to indulge yourself; and soon you are suckling upon her nipple like a baby while you knead her tits. When you stop sucking it is only to unintentionally moan one word, which makes the idols share a pleased smile, and Swan agrees, "That's right dear, just let it go, be a good boy for mommy."

You shudder with unfathomable satisfaction as something in your brain clicks, your long-suffering desire for motherly approval was finally being satiated; and it when mixed with your youthful lust it scratched an itch you probably should have realized you had. Perhaps unsurprisingly, you were quite the mommy's boy. So you luxuriate in the warm comfort of Swan's breasts, while she rains praise down upon you; at least until Gahyun joins in on the fun, squishing her own massive boobs against your face. While your head is wrapped in such a soft embrace, your manhood conversely strains against your pants for release, and the moment your hips start to writhe the idols take notice. Gahyun leans down and kisses your forehead, "Aww, look how needy you are!" she purrs salaciously, "Don't worry, Mommy Gahyun will make it all better, okay?" Then with a devilish smile she wriggles down between your legs, carelessly shoving the low table back away from the couch as she crouches on the floor. Gahyum expresses shock after she wrenches your pants off, allowing your manhood to flop free of its confines, resting meatily upon your groin as she laughs with delight. You try and adjust it, but she slaps your hands away, "Just sit back dear, and let Mommy do all the work," she licks her luscious lips, "just look how hard you are..."

Snuggled between Swan's sizable cleavage, you open your legs so that Gahyun can have her way with you, which she does with evident relish. Her perky lips slip down your shaft, slathering your cock with her moist spit, staring up into your eyes as she takes your dick to the hilt down her throat. You groan loudly as your new Mommy gives you your first blowjob, and your balls throb as you struggle to contain yourself. But Gahyum has no intention of your first load sliding down her gullet, and after your meat has been suitably lubricated she pulls off of you; leaving behind only a red smear of lipstick around your base as evidence of her skills. Another smudge graces her cheek as she cleans off her lips with the back of her hand, and as she readies her breasts for what will come next, Swam murmurs praise down at you for holding on so well. Wearing a wicked grin, Gahyun pushes your cock between her breasts, squishing them around your shaft until only your tip peeks out. If her tits had felt heavenly pressed against your face, they felt transcendent when wrapped around your manhood, their softness moving up and down your length with surprising ease. Gahyun giggles at your facial expression, "You had better not cum yet dear, you can hold on for me, right?" Swan agrees, wrapping her arms around you to hold you tightly, "Mhmm don't finish yet, be a good boy and hold that load in for Mommy!"

Gahyun plays your meat like an instrument, pleasuring it with her smooth breasts until you are on the edge of climax, before pausing until your balls had fallen enough before continuing. Of course, after a few rounds of this you were begging for it, pleading with your Mommies for release, willingly submitting to their affections as you chased your orgasm. It also was not helping that it felt so good putting all your trust in them, these Mommies would not leave you, they would keep showering you with love and support so long as you remained a good boy, right? And it seems like you were, when Gahyun stops tittyfucking you so that she can stand and wriggle out of her jeans and panties, revealing her most precious spot for you to gawp at. She smirks at your reaction, before shooting a glance up at Swan's unseen expression, "What, your lips took his first kiss, its only right that mine take his first load," Swan evidently demurs, because she leans down to kiss your forehead, "Time to become a big boy," she informs you kindly, as Gahyun eagerly straddles your crotch. Her breasts brush against your face while her hand grasps your dick, lining it up for insertion before Swan chides her, "Geez let him watch!" Sighing, Gahyun indulgently leans back, allowing you to drink in the sight of her weighty breasts, as well as the glistening slit you will soon be filling. Her core tensing, she then raises herself up, bending your cock back until it kisses her wet entrance. Gahyun smiles teasingly, then she sits on it.

You moan unashamedly as your virginity is taken, your manhood pulsing as it is engulfed in Gahyun's warm, sloppy insides, every inch of it disappearing into her like magic until her prim lower lips reach the red mark left by her other lips. Her face as flushed as your own, Gahyun leans down to kiss you hungrily before breaking it off to growl, "Thanks for your virginity dear, how does your first woman feel?" You answer honestly, and her lips curl into a smug smile, "Good boy, now relax, try to hold on as long as you can..." Her pussy had felt sublime just soaking your cock in her juices, but when she started moving it was all you could do but clutch onto wobbling breasts and hold on for dear life. With your dick having been subjected to such extensive foreplay, you were never going to last very long, but things were hardly helped by the constant praise the two idols heaped upon you. "Such a good boy..." "Holding on for so long..." "Isn't she so tight?" "I can feel it twitching..." "Just let go..." "Good boy..." "Good boy..." "Do it, do it now..." "Do it for Mommy..." Gahyun grasps your face with either hand, staring intensely into your eyes, "Cum for Mommy," she purrs, and you do.

Your mind goes blank as pleasure surges through your shaft and into the warmth of Gahyun's belly, a seemingly endless tide of bliss that leaves you gasping for your Mommies. Squished between their soft bodies, you melt into them, unmoving except for the furious clenching of your manhood as it pumps an idol's pussy full of your sperm. When you come to, Gahyun has a look of sublime contentment upon her face, relishing in the feeling of her pussy being swamped by semen, her eyelashes fluttering with every fading pulse of your balls, "Fuck," she sighs, "Virgins always cum so fucking much, no wonder Nayeon got addicted to this..." Then she opens her eyes and smiles down at you, giving you a congratulatory kiss before asking, "So, how does it feel to be a big boy?" You awkwardly stammer out a reply to this goddess, but she laughs and hushes you after your words turn to gibberish, "Don't strain yourself dear, just relax, doesn't it feel so nice to be between us after you cum?" It does indeed, your usual post-coital sadness extinguished as you cuddle between the two idol's voluptuous bodies. After a little while, Gahyun slowly pries herself from your arms unmounts you, your cock soft enough that it flops out almost immediately, and her pussy squelches as it burps out some of your load. Giggling, she stoops down to clean your meat off with your mouth before rejoining you on the couch. The girls shift around, and you find yourself on your side facing Swan, as it is now Gahyun who presses up behind you, her breasts sticking against your sweaty back.

Swan hums soothingly, playing with your hair as her other hand traces along your sides along with Gahyun's, their touch making you shiver. You meanwhile suck on Swan's breasts like a baby, content in your vulnerability, feeling so safe and protected in their arms that you let down your barriers and indulge in the pleasures of being pampered again for the first time in a long time. The idols for their part seem more than enthusiastic about showering you with yet more attention, playing the part of your Mommies to perfection and lavishing you with love. And when you once again feel something stirring between your legs, the girls are purring with anticipation as they susurrate their soft bodies against yours, your pitiful moans only arousing them even more. Swan runs an idle fingertip along your shaft, causing you to twitch, "Does Mommy need to help her good boy drain his balls again?" You nod shyly, your submissiveness making Swan's lips part sultrily, "Well then, I imagine you want Mommy to sit on it again? You seem to enjoy just taking it..." Your cock bulges in answer, and both idols giggle. Swan huffs playfully, "Goodness Gahyun, what are we going to do with him?" Gahyun laughs, "Fuck him, of course!" Swan snorts before thoughtfully tapping her chin, "No, I think he should fuck me this time," she glances down at you, "I like making the cute ones work for it."

As the idols untangle themselves from you, Swan slips off her shorts, and finally pulls her top and bra up from where they had pooled around her neck. Fully naked, she leans back on the couch, allowing you to drink in the sight of her fertile body spread before you; from her pillowy breasts, down to where her healthy tummy curved into a prominent pubis that supported her puffy pussy. Trembling with nervous excitement, you hesitantly move between her legs until she stops you with a ginger to the forehead. She points downwards, "Eat your meal before you have your dessert," she chides you with a smile, before pressing down on the top of your head. Awkwardly, you crawl down her body, squirming around to support yourself properly as you breathe in the stench of your Mommy's sopping pussy. A layer of soft black hair graces her crotch, not long enough to get in your way, but it adds to the mature aura Swan was emitting. You lower your face down onto her sex, and timidly run your tongue up between her moist folds, lathering it with her honey. It tastes like an odd mixture of fish and piss, but your hindbrain correctly interprets it as delicious, and so you dig in with gusto. The salty tang of her pussy fills your mouth as you inexpertly lick up and down her labia, Swan holding your head in place with one hand as she gropes herself with the other, and you grind your crotch against the couch as you eat her out.

Eventually, Swan is satisfied enough by your efforts that she gently pushes your head from between her meaty thighs and hauls you back atop her voluptuous body. She was as soft as the cushions you had just been laying upon, her face flushed with arousal as she pulls you into a deep kiss while her arms clutch at your back. With the taste of both of her lips upon your tongue, you hump needily at her sex, prodding at her wet folds with your cock as you gormlessly try and enter her. With an amused sigh, Swan breaks off the kiss, and reaches down to guide you in, "No, wait like a good boy, just let me line it up and then-" she lets out a soft moan as you impulsively thrust forward the moment your tip enters her warmth, "Oh there you go dear, now you're inside Mommy..." The sultry heat of her pussy engulfs your shaft as you fill her until your balls press against her asshole, leaving you groaning her name as your cock pulses with pleasure. Swan pulls your head down into her breasts as you awkwardly start fucking her, your movements hindered by your inexperience, but your Mommy does not seem to mind. With one hand curling your hair while the other roams your back, she soothingly urges you to go slow, "Just like that dear, just focus on how warm and soft Mommy feels.." You try your best to keep your thrusts languid, you really do, but Swan's pussy was so wet it was dripping down your balls, and your body was unable to resist doing its best to plow her pillowy softness. Mommy is understanding though, and she locks her legs tightly around your waist as she urges you on, "That's it dear, its okay, Mommy knows how good it feels, Mommy is proud you lasted so long inside of her, so hush," she pushes your head against her neck so she can whisper in your ear while your body is fully meshed against hers, "Just let it out dear, it's okay to cum inside, Mommy will take responsibility, just relax and breed me," you moan plaintively as your thrusts grow long and deep, and Swan purrs happily, "Mhmm, there you go, breed me, breed your Mommy...oh there's so much..."

You shudder in Swan's loving embrace as the most powerful orgasm of your life rocks your body, your hips spasming as you try and unload as much semen as possible inside of her fertile pussy. The idol continues to murmur encouragement as pleasure gushes through you, her soft body feeling divine against yours as your overstimulated nerves make you writhe. You are left feeling drained and exhausted, your balls aching from the size of the load you had just spurted inside of Swan, sweat making your skin stick together as you lay atop her. Your Mommy does not try to move you though, instead letting you rest in her arms while your cock slowly shrinks until it is barely laying inside of her sloppy hole. Only once the after-effects of your climax fade does she release you, allowing you to stagger upright, looking down at her voluptuously formed body that you had so recently claimed with your seed. But lest you forget, you had two Mommies, and Gahyun was keen to remind you of that fact. Her kiss is hungry and demanding, her tongue invading your mouth and slaking itself upon your own. Your hands involuntarily come up and start groping her ample chest, which only seems to deepen her passionate kiss, until it feels like her tongue is going down your throat. You are left breathless and lightheaded, and you willingly allow Gahyun to pull your face down into her tits as she leans back against the couch, leaving you bent over with a nipple in your mouth.

Gahyun smirks down at you, "Suck on them, dear," she orders before glancing up, "Want to get him hard again for me?" she asks. You hear Swan shifting behind you as she gets up, "Oh sure, I don't mind cleaning up my own messes either," you feel her hands against your thighs as she makes you open your legs, "Adorable... oh wow, it is still leaking out, I wonder if I'll end up getting knocked up from this," Gahyun laughs, "Jihyo would love that," her gaze flicks down to you, "Did Mommy say you could stop sucking? Back to work dear!" Gahyun shoves your face back into her breast, force-feeding you her hardening nipple as you slurp messily upon it, "That's it, good boy!" Gahyun groans. Something warm and wet lazily traces its way up your shaft, making you start, but your Mommy keeps your attention firmly upon her while her counterpart toys with your manhood. Swan sucks and licks the sticky mess off of your cock, steadily nursing it back into its full length; your balls might still be recovering, but your member was already eager for more. Her tongue traces its way up your taint, as your dick is suddenly engulfed in a soft pressure that was rather familiar to you. You moan into Gahyun's boobs as Swan squishes her cleavage around your manhood, your entire length buried between her breasts as she uses them to massage you. Completely at her mercy, all you can do is mewl around Gahyun's nipple as Swan reminds you how stimulating a tittyfuck can be. Only when your cock starts to pulsate does she relent; after all, it was Gahyun's turn.

Gahyun wears a wicked smile as she bends over the couch, wiggling her ass enticingly as you shuffle over on your knees; your cock waving as it spears the air in front of you. Her smirk grows wider as your trembling hands grasp her waist as you clamber between her legs and into position, your dick rubbing between her modest cheeks against her slit. Your hotdogging grows more determined as Gahyun's lower lips moisten, your manhood eager to enjoy your Mommy's warmth once more; and so you angle yourself horizontally and press forward. For a second time, you simply end up prodding at your partner's folds, unable to figure out how to enter her, but before your frustration grows, Gahyun reaches between her thighs and grasps your meat, "Say please," she says, glancing back at you; and you do. She laughs, "So obedient! Can we keep him, Swan?" Your Mommy is kind enough to angle your cock properly though, even while she teases you relentlessly. You are unable to contain a shudder as your member slips inside of Gahyun once more, its tight folds gripping your shaft like a long-lost lover as you fill her pussy with every inch of you. Tentatively, you start to thrust, and soon discover why doggy was so popular a position, it was so much easier than missionary to get your strokes in! Gahyun giggles as you go to town on her from behind, expertly arching her back to drive you even wilder, "C'mon dear, Mommy likes it rough," she purrs, "So put your back into it! Make me feel good!" In all honesty, it was hard not to be a little rough in this position, the ease of motion and the cushioning of her ass cheeks made it difficult to resist slamming yourself against her as hard as you could. And while your balls were still gathering themselves for another load, your length was brimming with pleasure as you fuck your Mommy with youthful vigor.

The sound of your flesh slapping against Gahyun's was only barely louder than the noise her breasts made as they clapped together with every thrust. Your abs burn from overuse, your muscles unused to being put to use in such a particular manner and for so long, but you were unable to stop yourself from continuing to plow your Mommy; even as sweat pours down you. Her pussy was addicting, tight enough that your cock felt like it was in a vice, yet loose enough that you never had any trouble pulling out for a fresh plunge into her depths. Swan had joined the fun as well, squishing her curvaceous body up against your back, her hands stroking your chest while she urges you on; the feeling of her massive tits suctioned to your skin spurring you on. Gahyun suddenly begins moaning, hissing into the couch, "Yesssss, right there right there right there!" And when you start to fuck her even harder she snarls in approval, "Don't you dare fucking stop dear, just like that, Mommy is going-" she lets out a sudden gasp, and you feel her pussy spasming around your shaft; Swan purring with approval as Gahyun orgasms on your dick. You are left shocked and dazed, more than a little exhausted from your burst of effort, but still surprised that you had managed to make an experienced idol like Gahyun cum so easily... When she slips off your cock, her cunt leaves behind a layer of milky cream, sure evidence of your efforts.

Gahyun languidly turns around, smoothly moving to kiss you once more, and you are trapped between your two Mommies. both of them nibbling upon you while showering you with praise, "Oh good boy..." "Such a good boy..." "Just look at how nice you made Mommy feel!" "She left such a mess on your cock..." "It must have felt so good, didn't it?" "Mommy is so proud that you lasted so long..." "Your poor balls must be aching..." "Mmm... still hard?" "Oh... yes he is!" "Should we?" "We shall!" "Why don't we... you know?" "I think that's a proper present for our darling..." Your Mommies giggle knowingly as Swan slips around to your front and joins in devouring your lips, spittle slopping down your chin as her tongue joins Gahyun's in violating your mouth until your head spins.

Both Idols are smirking as they drag themselves down your chest, causing you to shiver as their rigid nipples trace along your skin. They kneel together in front of you, before wrapping one arm around each other's shoulders, and squishing their chests together, their ample breasts squirming against one another as they form a fleshy prison for your cock. With their free arms, the motherly pair grasp your ass and haul you closer until your tip is against the sweaty entrance to their conjoined cleavage. "Don't stop until your balls are empty, dear," Gahyun growls up at you, while Swan sighs, "Just relax, and let it all out for your Mommies, okay?" You nod hurriedly, before pressing forward into the supple pussy the idols made from their tits, your member buried in their soft flesh, its passage eased along by Gahyun's juices still coating your dick. Their breasts were large enough that you did not even emerge on the other side, and if anything it felt as good as their holes had, it was warm, moist, and oh so pliable. The sound of you plowing your Mommies' massive mammaries was appallingly loud, a dull squelching noise that erupted from between their cleavage with every thrust, but that just aroused you even more. You groan as you pump between their tits, holding onto their shoulders while you use their cleavage like the world's best fleshlight, your brain turning to mush as their warm pillows press in on either side of your manhood.

Your Mommies continue to pamper you even as you violate their chests with your cock, telling you what a good boy you were, saying how proud of you they were, how they just knew that you would be able to give them every last drop... The stimulation from their huge breasts was starting to get to you, and it was not helping that Gahyun and Swan would occasionally pause in their vocal encouragements to sloppily make out, their spit raining down onto their cleavage and seeping in to soak your penis. It was all too much. The idols' moans of pleasure, the burning heat suffusing your shaft, the texture difference between Swan's softer boobs and Gahyun's firmer ones, the feeling of their hard nipples scraping along your length as you thrust past them... You were going to cum, you were going to impregnate your Mommie's fat juicy tits, you were going to fill their cleavage with your sticky seed, you were going to drench them with your semen until your balls were dry. Your Mommies' eyes light up as you near climax, and they use their hands to drive you into them even harder, as a final groan escapes your lips and your eyes roll back as you finish. Ropes of jizz spew into the tight confines between Gahyun and Swan's breasts, dripping down onto their thighs while they gasp and coo with delight. Your orgasmic convulsions grow so strong with your cock head pops out from between its fleshy prison, showering their chests with your load and painting their chins with watery cum. With your cock now in the open the girls don't wait for a second, with first Swan taking your cooling meat into her mouth and slobbering all over it before letting Gahyun take her turn as well.

So that was how your first time ended, with two beautiful Mommies passing your messy cock between them as they sucked it clean; well, relatively clean. Of course they cuddled with you afterwards, pressing in on either side and purring with praise while your seed dried upon their flushed bosoms, giving you and each other more than a few kisses. Eventually you recovered enough to take stock of your surroundings, and you realize that you were in fact, no longer alone. Jihyo was curled up calmly in one of the chairs to the side of the couch, wearing not but an apron, blissfully ignoring the sizable wet stain on the fabric between her legs. She beams with pride when you notice her, clapping her hands in together, "So, how was your first time? Was it as satisfying as you thought it would be? Oh! Don't rush yourself dear, dinner is on the table, I'm sure everyone is absolutely famished!" You can only gawp as your cousin blabbers happily at you, just how long had she been there for? Just how much had she seen? But your stomach growls loudly at the thought of food, and your worries fade as you consider your much more pressing need. Somewhat awkwardly, the three of you untangle yourselves before following Jihyo into the dining room; if Gahyun or Swan were the least bit embarrassed at walking around stark naked around the other idol with her cousin's semen leaking from their holes and smeared across their chests, they did not show it.

After a somewhat awkward dinner where Jihyo merrily grilled you on every nasty detail of your first time, she cheerily shoos Gahyun and Swan out, though not before dressing them, and not before both of them gave you rather passionate kisses in goodbye. Then it was just you and your cousin Jihyo, who playfully undoes her apron, allowing it to pool at her feet; you had always known she was busty, but seeing her like this... Her tummy still bulged with pregnancy, and her breasts had swollen up even larger than you had ever imagined in your naughtiest wet dreams. Jihyo tickles your chin, "So, my darling baby cousin is now a man, I am so proud of you!" Somehow, Jihyo's praise hits you even harder than the others' had, and warmth fills your chest. Jihyo beams at your reaction, "Well, I'll stay for a bit and help clean up, but when I get back on Saturday..." she leans close, her engorged nipples brushing against your chest, "I want to see just how much you've grown up," she whispers, her eyes alight with lust for you in the first time you can remember. Then it is back to her usual teasing self, "Of course, Nayeon will want a turn, she's been sniffing your dirty underwear for like a year now. Oh, and I think Somi might be wanting to get in on the action as well, she's been masturbating to you for a while now..." she trails off, giving you an amused look, "What dear, are you so surprised? It tickles a girl's motherly instincts to see a boy with such obvious... issues."

As you go to bed that night, your heart is filled with a contentment that it had not been with in a long while. After all, you might have an absent mother figure, but it seems like you now had a plethora of Mommies to fill that void...

#smut #kpop smut #dreamcatcher smut #gahyun smut #gahyeon smut #Purple Kiss smut #Swan smut #fanfic #Dreamcatcher fanfic #Purple Kiss Fanfic

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gottencents · 4 months ago

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15 Minutes- Sophia Laforteza

pairing. actress!sophia x ceo!reader

synopsis. At a star-studded YSL Oscar After Party, actress Sophia shares a passionate kiss with secret girlfriend, CEO Y/n, sparking rumors and media frenzy as everyone wonders about Sophia's iconic lips and the true nature of their hidden relationship.

the night was young, but the YSL Oscar After Party was already buzzing with excitement. It was the most anticipated event of the year, drawing Hollywood’s brightest stars into one glamorous, glittering space. Champagne flutes clinked, celebrities mingled, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the promise of celebration. The room was alive with energy, but Sophia couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as she stood at the edge of it all.

Sophia, a well-known actress with stunning performances under her belt, had spent years building a career based on both talent and beauty. Tonight, though, it wasn’t her acting that had people’s attention—it was her lips. Full, plush, and undeniably captivating, they had become her trademark. Fans and beauty enthusiasts alike speculated endlessly about the lip gloss she used to achieve that perfect pout, but Sophia had always kept the details a closely guarded secret.

The only thing more famous than her lips, perhaps, was Y/n.

Y/n was the enigmatic CEO of a tech empire, a woman with power that seemed to radiate from her very being. Tall, composed, and effortlessly cool, Y/n was the kind of person who didn’t need to say much to make an impression—she simply had it. When she entered a room, people took notice, drawn to her magnetic presence, her sharp suit, and her confident demeanor. And tonight, Y/n was no exception.

Sophia had always admired her from afar—respectfully, of course—but tonight, something felt different. She found herself watching Y/n more than usual, her eyes following the way people gravitated toward her, laughing too hard at her jokes, trying to get her attention, maybe even hoping for a moment of closeness with the unreachable woman. And each time Sophia saw someone move toward Y/n, a strange pang of jealousy stirred within her.

Why was she feeling this way? Was it because Y/n was so damn alluring? Or was it something more?

Sophia wasn't sure, but the answer seemed to grow more apparent with each passing minute. Her stomach tightened as she watched a well-known actor—someone Sophia had worked with in the past—move toward Y/n, leaning in a little too closely and laughing a little too hard at something Y/n said. The actor’s hand brushed against Y/n’s arm, and Sophia’s heart clenched, an unexpected wave of jealousy rising in her chest.

“Hey, you good?” a voice called from beside her, pulling her from her thoughts.

Sophia turned to find Daniella, one of her closest friends and a fellow actress, standing there with a concerned look.

“I’m fine,” Sophia said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just... long night, you know? Too many people.”

Daniella raised an eyebrow, not convinced. “You sure? You’ve been staring at Y/n all night.”

Sophia froze, her cheeks flushing slightly. She hadn’t realized it was that obvious. "I wasn’t staring, I just—"

“I know you, Soph,” Daniella cut her off with a knowing smile. “It’s okay, we can talk about it later. But, seriously... have you seen the way she looks at you?”

Sophia blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Daniella shrugged casually. “I mean, the woman’s basically trying to undress you with her eyes. It’s pretty obvious to anyone with eyes. Trust me, I’ve been watching her watch you all night.”

Sophia could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if Daniella was joking, or if she really had been watching Y/n like that, but the idea of Y/n looking at her in that way made her stomach flip.

"I don't know about that," Sophia muttered, shaking her head.

“You’re not fooling me, Soph,” Daniella laughed, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Just saying, if you're interested, I think she might be too.”

Before Sophia could respond, she noticed Y/n standing alone by the bar. The crowd seemed to have shifted around her, and she now had a rare moment of peace. It was her chance.

Taking a deep breath, Sophia excused herself from Daniella, who gave her an encouraging smile before disappearing back into the crowd. As Sophia walked toward Y/n, she felt a rush of anticipation fill her, her heart beating a little faster with each step.

When Y/n saw her approaching, her lips quirked into a smile that sent a shiver down Sophia’s spine. It was a slow smile, one that seemed to suggest a secret—something they shared that no one else knew about.

"Sophia," Y/n greeted, her voice smooth and calm as always. "I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you might be hiding somewhere from all the chaos."

Sophia couldn't help but smile back, though there was a nervous edge to it. "I don’t like parties like this," she said, offering a half-smile. "But it seemed like the right thing to do after tonight's... events."

Y/n’s eyes softened, and she took a small step closer, closing the distance between them. “You don’t have to pretend to like it, you know. I can tell you're not enjoying yourself.” There was a subtle teasing tone to her voice.

Sophia chuckled nervously, glancing around the room before returning her gaze to Y/n. “It’s not that. I just... There’s so much attention on you tonight. It feels like everyone wants something from you."

Y/n tilted her head slightly, as though intrigued. "And you don't?" Her voice lowered, and Sophia could have sworn there was a hint of challenge in her words.

Sophia swallowed, caught off guard. “I don’t know. Maybe I do,” she admitted quietly, her eyes searching Y/n’s face for any sign that this was some kind of game.

Y/n’s lips parted slightly, as if considering something. “It’s okay to want something from me, you know.” Her voice was softer now, more intimate.

Sophia felt her heart rate quicken. Something about the way Y/n was looking at her made her feel exposed, like they were standing alone in a world that had suddenly gotten much smaller. “Maybe I want something from you,” Sophia murmured, leaning in just a little, her fingers brushing against Y/n’s hand as they spoke.

Y/n smiled, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. “What if I told you that I’ve been wondering about your lips all night?”

Sophia blinked, surprised by the unexpected turn of conversation. “My lips?” She laughed nervously. “What about them?”

“I’ve been wondering what lip gloss you’re wearing,” Y/n replied, her voice low and almost teasing. “You know, the one everyone talks about. The one that makes your lips look... perfect.”

Sophia felt her cheeks flush. It was true that her lips had become something of a signature, but the thought of Y/n noticing them made her feel almost shy. Almost.

“You’ll never know,” Sophia teased, a playful smile on her lips. “It’s a secret.”

Y/n's expression shifted from playful to serious in an instant, her eyes darkening. “I don’t think it should be,” she whispered, stepping even closer to Sophia. She raised her hand, her fingers gently brushing against Sophia’s lips, tracing the curve of her bottom lip before lingering there.

Sophia’s breath hitched at the contact. The way Y/n’s fingers lingered on her lips sent a jolt of electricity through her body, her pulse racing. She could feel the heat between them, the weight of the moment.

“Maybe I’ll find out for myself,” Y/n murmured, her voice thick with desire. And before Sophia could react, Y/n’s lips were on hers.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, each movement drawing Sophia further into the moment. She felt Y/n’s fingers slide into her hair, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, turning hungry and desperate. It was everything Sophia had been waiting for, everything she didn’t know she needed. The world around them seemed to blur and fade as they moved together, the only thing real in that moment was the heat between them, the way their lips met with a perfect familiarity.

Sophia’s hand traced the line of Y/n’s jaw, her fingers brushing over her lips in return. She could taste the champagne on Y/n’s breath, feel the warmth of her skin, and for the first time that night, she felt completely alive.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads leaning against each other as they tried to catch their breath.

Y/n’s voice was barely a whisper. “That’s what I wanted to know.”

Sophia’s lips parted, still stunned by the intensity of the kiss. “What?”

Y/n smiled, a little mischievous. “Your lip gloss. I had to find out for myself.”

Sophia chuckled softly, her fingers lingering on her lips. “I think you’ve found out more than you bargained for.”

Before either of them could say anything more, the flash of a camera caught them off guard. They turned in unison, only to find a photographer from the party snapping a picture of them, their faces still close from the kiss. The moment was caught in an instant—a headline in the making.

Sophia’s heart dropped into her stomach as she realized what had just happened. Within minutes, the pictures were everywhere. Tabloid sites had picked up the story, the headline reading:

“Y/n Tries to Find Out Sophia’s Lip Gloss Secret—And Gets a Whole Lot More.”

The gossip was relentless. People were buzzing about the kiss, wondering about the nature of their relationship. No one knew that Y/n and Sophia had been dating in secret for months—no one except for a select few.

Later that night, Sophia was scrolling through her phone when a text from Daniella popped up.

Daniella: So... how does it feel to have your lips trending on Twitter?

Sophia couldn’t help but smile at the message. She traced her fingers over her lips, the feeling of Y/n still lingering on her skin. She knew this was just the beginning of something much bigger.

Sophia: It feels... exciting.

And deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before they would no longer be able to keep their secret.

#cents works #katseye sophia x reader #katseye x reader #katseye #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia x reader #sophia laforteza #katseye sophia #katseye sophia x fem reader #sophia x fem reader #sophia laforteza x fem reader #kpop gg x reader #kpop wlw

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threalcrabbysamantha · 1 month ago

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nine times out of ten the headcanon I work with when writing Zutara fics, especially post-canon fics, is that Zuko comes to terms with his feelings for Katara way sooner than she comes to terms with her feelings for him. Like in most of my fics he’s been in love with her for years, has even accepted that she’ll never return his feelings - and then she starts having ~revelations~

but right now I’m writing a fic where Katara falls first and Zuko is an oblivious loser, and frankly it’s reeeeeeaallly fun and also kind of…makes sense to me? Zuko is the kind of person who’s spent a lot of his life keeping secrets from himself, especially about the way he feels about things, and coupled with what I think is probably a pretty obvious propensity to believe he doesn’t really deserve to be loved or cared for given his long history of abuse, it’s just been kind of delightful to write this idiot falling in love without realizing that he’s falling in love

or perhaps more accurately, realizing he’s been in love all along

#zuko #zutara #katara #zuko x katara #Fanfic #sam rambles #Zutara headcanon

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emoisthenewemu · 2 months ago

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YUTA OKKOTSU SMAU SERIES

SUMMARY: It seems like everyone is beginning to catch on to your lovely stalker, everyone except you of course.

TEXT AT THE BOTTOM!

pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt7

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

。。。・゜★

Later on in the evening you walk to the convenience store for a late night snack run with the girls, Yuta finds himself rushing to see you. He was right—Gojo went on forever about the responsibilities of being a special grade, how the higher-ups expect sorcerers these days to act nonhuman, the way they are treated as weapons. It felt more like a therapy session than anything, clearly the white haired man was going through some stuff and Yuta just figures that he trusts his student enough to talk about it. He does appreciate the sentiment, although he would be lying if he said he listened to most of it. More than half of that time was spent thinking about you.

He feels like something bad is going to happen, chest heavy with guilt. The teen is no stranger to anxiety but lately it has all been so much worse. He's not sure if It's the constant lying is getting to him or if it's all the missions. He has nightmares, people question the bags under his eyes but no one knows the things he has seen. But you, you are his escape.

Perhaps that is too much pressure to put on a person, especially one he cannot admit his feelings to. If only you knew just how much he cared.

The second thing on his mind was the phone. The stupid phone he threw out the window and has not seen since. It has to be somewhere on Toge's person. He'll find it, that's what matters. And speak of the devil, he happens to run into Toge—who is exiting Itadori's room with Panda.

Meanwhile Itadori is trying to make more room for everyone to get comfortable-throwing random crap in the closet and shuffling everything around. Megumi watches judgmentally.

"You invite everyone over and you didn't even clean your room?" He scoffs.

"I honestly thought no one would show up"

Thud! Something falls from Toge's bag, a phone with no case and no screen protector—it's all cracked up.

"Jeez what the hell is this?" Yuji picks up the device. "What business does Inumaki have carrying two phones around" Megumi grumbles, too disinterested to give an answer. Until Yuji gasps. "Do you...think he's selling drugs?"

"What? No, you idiot!"

"Well then for what?" Yuji unlocks the phone with ease, no passcode necessary. He laughs, immediately going to the messages.

Yet he only finds two message threads, one of the contact names reads 'Gojo Sensei'. Okay, makes sense. But the other one reads far more peculiar; Angel. Clicking on it shamelessly he is met with weeks worth of texts, he giggles, figuring Inumaki has a secret girlfriend or something. Oh, they are sooo about to clown on him. However the more he scrolls the more he realizes who this Angel person may be. Throw in the regular use of the word 'stalker' and creep, and it is all starting to click.

The pink haired boy gasps again, this time more dramatically. "Oh my god!"

"What?" Finally, Megumi's interest is peaked.

"Inumaki is yn's stalker!"

"What? There's no way!" Fushiguro stands up from his spot on Yuji's bed—grabbing the phone to see for himself. "I.....thought it was Okkotsu.." He admits, a bit discouraged that he was wrong for once. He thought it was quite obvious actually. Yuji nods in agreement.

"Put it away before he comes back!" Itadori tries to snatch it back.

The door flies open, it looks as if Inumaki was pushed through it. Megumi and Itadori are caught like a deer in headlights, Okkotsu shoves Toge to the side rather aggressively. He looks mad. The first years look...guilty. They avoid eye contact for reasons unknown. Itadori's hands are stuck behind his back, almost like he is hiding something. Yuta's eyes dart down to the unzipped backpack, he looks back up at them. They are practically having a conversation with their eyes, Yuji's eyebrows furrow—very obviously confused, Megumi gives nothing as always.

Toge cannot help but notice that Yuji seems to be holding something. He pulls his scarf down. "Show me your hands".

Thud! The phone hits the floor as Itadori extends his arms out, Panda gasps.

"Ohh shit" He laughs much to the dismay of Yuta who picks the phone up in one swift motion, careful to hold it away from Toge.

"What did you see?" Okkotsu questions.

"Nothing!"

"You're yn's stalker" Megumi deadpans, the complete opposite of his friend who is currently sweating bullets.

Toge laughs, squeezing by his stunned friend who is frozen in his place. He pats Megumi on the shoulder, a sly smile on his face. Panda finds himself a seat, very obviously amused with the situation. "So glad this is all out in the open now" He breathes a sigh of relief. "All this lying stresses me out"

"Stressing you out?" Yuta groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Imagine how I feel"

"Why don't you just tell her?" Yuji queries.

"Yeah, tell her you're a weird stalker. That'll go well" Megumi scoffs. "What were you thinking Okkotsu?"

"I wasn't thinking" He shakes his head, thinking back to that fateful day. For some reason, it all seemed like such a good idea back then. But now, looking back he thinks that maybe he is his own worst enemy. You seem to like him, the real him—without any strange text messages. You would probably be so hurt to know that he is actively lying to you every chance he gets.

"I'm gonna tell her"

"What? No you're not!"

"Tell who what?" Maki raises an eyebrow, Nobara and yourself in tow-all clutching bags of snacks.

"Yeah! Tell who what?" You chime in, unaware that it was Okkotsu he was speaking to in the first place. You plop yourself on the bed next to Toge, handing him his treats from the store. "Don't be lame! Tell us!"

Yuji and Megumi look at each other, clearly undecided on if they should tell you the truth or not. However, Yuji figures now might not be the most perfect time. You are happy, looking forward to a night of fun with your friends, he'd hate to ruin that. "Uhh we were just sayin' how pissed Nobara is gonna be when she finds out we're watching Human Earthworm again"

"Ugh NO!" The girl gripes. "I have seen that piece of crap enough already! Please don't make me sit through it again!"

"I'm not watching that dumb shit" Maki scoffs, grabbing the remote from the bedside table to shuffle through the movie titles. "I'll choose something"

"I like it" You pout, they look at you as if you are crazy. "It's campy and funny!...you wouldn't get it" You sigh.

"See! This girl knows what she's talking about!" Yuji says a bit too enthusiastically, giving you a friendly side hug. "You're a real one yn, don't ever forget that" He gives your shoulder a squeeze as you look up at him, offering up the bag of chips he asked for.

It is that moment that Itadori suddenly becomes aware of the harsh glare coming from Okkotsu, almost grimacing as his eyes remain stuck on where the two of you touch. He gets the message, letting go of you quickly—putting his hands up so that way the special grade could see them. Mouthing a 'sorry'.

Yuta was unaware that he failed to hide his distaste, silently scolding Yuji to put his hands down. This is exactly why he did not tell him, the boy does not have a smooth bone in his body. Okkotsu looks around as everyone makes themselves comfortable, you pat the spot on the bed beside you, beckoning him over. He gladly accepts, painfully aware of the way all of the guys are staring at him. This is going to be a disaster of a night, in this moment he does not trust any of them to keep his secret.

"Heyy" Your soft voice snaps him out of hit, you speak low enough that he is the only one who hears. "Missed you"

He chuckles nervously, immediately feeling his heartbeat speed up. "Yeah?" He asks earnestly, he cannot comprehend that fact that you think of him in situations he has no control over. He wishes to know what you say about him when he is not around.

"Mhm" You nod, giving your best smile. Somehow, you have grown more confident in your 'flirting' abilities. You no longer doubt every little thing you say, he makes you feel comfortable—like you can be yourself. Who knew that being yourself and turning him into a blushing mess would coincide? "Was thinking about you today"

He chokes on his spit. "Thinking about what?"

"Nothing too crazy" You shrug. "Just how nice you are"

He laughs softly. "Well uh thank you...m'glad you think that" Yuta is suddenly aware of how close the two of you are sitting, faces dangerously close to one another. He knows you are only leaning in to hear him better over the loud chatter of your friends, but another part wonders if you are doing it so he can stare at your plump lips (which he definitely was not doing). "And however much you missed me...I probably missed you more"

You giggle, breaking eye contact finally. Only to look over at Nobara who silently claps enthusiastically at the interaction. You are thankful his back is facing her. "What's there to miss?"

"A lot of stuff" He speaks honestly, you consume his mind most days, especially as of late. It is an annoying itch which cannot be scratched, a part of him thinks that maybe it is a bad thing to act like such a lovestruck fool. But then again he would not have the pleasure of knowing you, so he will take his chances. He is clearly lost in thought thinking of any example possible but all he can focus on is the sweet smell of your perfume. "Got such a pretty face....think about that a lot"

You giggle again, looking away and hiding your face—obviously not expecting an answer like that. You almost feel embarrassed.

That feeling soon doubles when Panda shushes the two of you as he turns the lights off. "You two! Quit flirting, the movie's about to start!"

If it had not been for the lights being out, you would have immediately caught notice of the boy's reddened cheeks at the sudden call out. Yet he does not stop that from making himself comfortable, soon lying down and even sharing a blanket with you. Your friends tease the two of you but you ignore the comments, an occasional 'shut up' when someone decides to bring it up again.

That doesn't stop him from holding your hand beneath the blanket either.

。。。・゜★

It is pretty late when the group decides to wrap things up, Maki and Nobara are unsurprisingly the first ones to go, seeing as they were not too keen on joining in the first place. They ask if you want to just head back with them so you do not have to walk by yourself. Okkotsu (of course) takes it upon himself to say that he will make sure you get back to your dorm safe. So you wait for him out in the hall as he argues with Toge about something you aren't too sure about. Honestly, you're too tired to care—a yawn escapes your lips as you rub your eyes lazily.

Yuuji and Megumi come walking out, both of them freeze when they spot you out there alone. Yuji already told himself he was not going to spill the beans. He wants to redeem himself seeing as there was definitely a reason Yuta chose to keep this information from him. Both Megumi and Nobara have told him how terrible he is at keeping secrets before so it's really no surprise to him. Megumi however, feels as if he is morally obligated to tell you the truth. His arms are crossed as he fights with that voice inside his head telling him to just say it.

The last thing he wants is to get involved in this mess, truly. But he cannot help but think that he would do it for any one of his friends, and you would likely do it for him too. No one deserves to be lied to. "Hey yn! Gotta tell you something" He calls out.

You look up from your phone that you were previously scrolling on to kill your boredom.

"L-later guys I'm going to bed" Yuji shuts his door behind him.

You find yourself standing there with Megumi, who stares at you blankly. You can never get a read on him, he's friendly enough. Just so painstakingly quiet that you feel like you have not connected much with him. "Yeah?"

The door suddenly opens, Itadori ushering the rest of his guests out before slamming it behind him hurriedly. Yuta notices the way the two of you are stood there, talking about something—hopefully not him. He picks up his pace a bit, purposefully bumping into Megumi's arm to catch his attention.

Fushiguro looks at him, eyes narrowing in pure judgement. He wants to call him pathetic for not having the balls to just be honest with you. Looking back at you, he sighs, finally accepting the decision to just let it be. Not get himself involved in something that is clearly not any of his business. "I was just wondering if you still have that book I lent you, need it for an assignment"

You gasp softly. "Ohh yeahhh! My bad, I totally forgot I had it. We can meet up tomorrow so I can give it back!"

"Don't worry about it" He dismisses. "But uh sounds good, see you tomorrow"

"Bye Fushiguro!" You wave the boy goodbye as he turns heel back to his dorm.

Yuta breathes a sigh of relief. It felt like he was holding it in all that time. Well, it still kind of feels that way. He walks you home, the two of you talk about nothing important; how school was, plans for the weekend, updates on your stalker. You're about halfway through when his fingers brush against yours, seemingly asking for something without using words. You're going on about some show Nobara watches that you just cannot get imto, he laughs as you imitate the ridiculous dialogue between the characters. His fingers find their place with yours, softly intertwining them together. Neither of you acknowledge it except for a shy smile from both sides.

And when you arrive at your dorm he gives a tender hug, mumbling in your ear about how he'd like to see you this weekend if that's okay with you. You give him a kiss on the cheek before slipping into your room.

Neither of you acknowledge that either.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

TAGLIST: @loveyislost @ravenbc @practicoi @chiefinvestigatoremma @gradmacoco @yuzurixx @isuckatmakingnames @pumpkintoad @digitaltrippers @sexylexy12 @sttaejoon-blog @galactacium @kekeanna266 @jfbwiwndinrkaidbrnskzhr @2dmenfr @love-me-satoru @kaidostwin @timascorner @artsjiwoo @underlinedkasis @lightbluefog

LMK IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED!

#jjk smau #jjk x reader #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta #okkotsu x reader #yuuta smau #yuta smau #jjk yuta

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

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MW Reaction to You Leading Them On

Warnings: 18+, Implied Smut, Dark! Modern Warfare, Horny! Modern Warfare, Possessive Behaviour, Territorial Behaviour, Entitled Behaviour, Threatening Behaviour, Incel-Coded! Modern Warfare, Dub-Con Themes, Implied Age Gap (Price), Physical Restraining, Kidnapping, Breaking and Entering, Reader Being Held Hostage, Abuse of Physical Power, Slut Shaming, Pet Names, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Ghost

You’d only just noticed that Ghost stood at the front door of his apartment as if he were guarding it. Perhaps from your attempts at leaving.

You’d tried apologising to him for ‘stringing him along’ as long as you had, but you genuinely believed the two of you were just being friendly, bantering. Nothing more to it.

Obviously, Simon hadn’t seen it that way. You know that now as you watch his hand slip down the front of his sweatpants, palming his erection through them.

“Why don’cha come and show me how sorry you are with that pretty little mouth of yours.” He’s so monotone when he says it that you think he’s joking. His face tells you otherwise.

Of course, you’re speechless. But Simon cares little for your bewilderment. He looks down at you, his eyes narrowing. When you don’t come to him, he steps towards you.

“You know,” he says, coming closer. You step back. “Y’hear about pretty little things like you wandering into a man’s trap. Gettin’ ravaged.”

He’s before you, now, all but chest-to-chest. His eyes are black. Gone is the man you’ve been playfully flirting with these last few months; who you’d tried to push over the edge with your accidental grazes, your unintentional whines, the batting of your eyelashes.

None of that will save you now. His voice carries the weight of a dark star.

“How do you know this isn’t exactly where I want you.”

König

König was eerily silent upon your rejection.

You both stood in his kitchen where, after watching you cook, his heart swelling beyond reason and fathom, König had blurted out that he liked you. A lot.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t return those feelings, only viewing König as a good friend at most.

And now, he stands sentinel over a reaction you can’t possibly predict. Especially as his eyes, usually crinkled with a smile and laughter, seem lighter than usual, as if drained of all their warmth.

“I see,” is all König says. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He leans back against the kitchen counter, one hand gripping its rounded edge while the other remains free.

“I suppose I only have one option, then.”

König stands to his full height, approaching you, invading your personal space. He’s almost chest-to-chest with you, the bulk of his frame, the size of his biceps becoming glaringly obvious to you now as his shirt struggles to contain him, pulled taut over his musculature.

“I’ll just have to destroy you for any other man you try to whore around with.”

The way in which he says it suggests indifference; as if this is something he’s done or thought about a million times before. He presses you into the counter, hands coming to rest either side of you. He bears down on you, jaw clenched and teeth gritted behind straight lips.

“Then you’ll have no choice but to come limping back to me.”

Soap

“Oh aye, Bonnie? You’re gonna drop me, just like that?”

The look Johnny gives you is one of incredulous disbelief. Yet, in some way, you feel that he already knew you weren’t dedicated to the idea of a relationship with him. Even after all the time you’d spent together, the many nights you’d enjoyed sleeping over at his apartment, the many treats you’d baked for him; these were all things one could easily mistake for friendship.

You’d considered that perhaps tonight hadn’t been the best time to let him down, regardless of how gently you did it, considering it was your weekly movie night and it was his turn to host.

You wish you’d listened to your inner self. Especially now as Johnny watches you, his eyes silver and sharp like a wolf’s. Without warning, he pounces on you, taking your wrists and planting them into the sofa cushions.

He lies atop you, heavy. Unmoving. Struggling only makes him grunt, a spark flashing in his eye.

“Tell you what,” he proposes. “If y’can still remember yer name by the time I’m through with you,” he presses his hips against yours. You gasp at the feeling of something heavy and pointed catching you.

“We’ll see how willing y’are to try’n lead me astray.”

Valeria

“I see how it is,” she sighs, arms crossed over her front. She has you tied to a chair in her office, mouth gagged as you try to plead with her through your tears, your eyes. “You thought you could have your cake and eat it too. Thought you could have me while trying to fuck every other bitch that crosses your path.”

You’d dared to try and break things off with Valeria – ‘things’ referring to the one-sided pursual of your love by a certain cartel mommy. But alas, your efforts to repel her had only strengthened her resolve – her need – to have you.

“I’ve dealt with your type before,” she says, bringing her face down to your level. You swear her eyes are black, devoid of the slivers of humanity she still possesses – somewhere. The wrinkle in her nose forecasts disgust, an emotion you know first-hand does not bode well with Valeria.

“I thought you were different. Thought you’d know to shut up and take what’s handed to you – especially when you’ve worked yourself so hard to get it.” Valeria’s hand comes down between your legs, her fingers wrapping around the meat of your thigh. Gripping. Tight.

“Maybe the you I’m looking for is buried in there somewhere.” You can taste the venom in her voice as her scrutinising gaze roves over your bound form. She brings her mouth to your ear, intentional and without haste.

“And all I need to do is fuck it out of you.”

Price

You considered for a moment that John hadn’t actually heard you. What, with his lax demeanour and total lack of acknowledgement of your rejection.

Of course, you were glad he wasn't reacting poorly, but to see him not reacting at all worried you.

“I could have you hidden away somewhere–” Price starts, lighting his cigar and not even looking at you, “–where you’d be for my eyes only.”

The fact that he says it so casually almost has you believing that you’ve misheard him. You blink, wait for him to prove you wrong

Much to your shock, he does nothing to quell your growing anxiety.

“Bet you’d like that – having the attention of an older man. ‘Specially since you’ve worked so hard to get it.”

Now, he looks at you, with eyes hard and sharp as diamond, half-lidded, a glare that could cut glass.

“Sitting on my lap, wearing those tight little shorts around me. Bet you wanted this to happen, didn’t’ya.”

When you don’t respond, too shocked to even conjure a response that could cover even a fraction of what John had said, he spoke for you.

“Well, Love, got anything to say for yourself?”

He didn’t give you time to answer. He took his legs off his desk and stood, staring at you.

“Better say it now since y’won’t be able to say much by the time I’m done with you.”

Horangi

“I just can’t believe you thought this would end well for you.” Hong-Jin paces before you as you sit on the edge of your bed, a hostage in your own home. Clearly, your rejection of his proposal to become his partner hadn’t ended well, hence the lock on your front door now lay broken, your security system disarmed.

“Especially after all I’ve spent on you, after all I’ve done to you – for you.”

His eyes never left you, staring you down. You tried not to shake, tried not to make a run for the door that, while open and tantalising in its beckoning for your escape, a steel model of a man patrolled it, patrolled you. Had you prisoner.

He stops before you, stands just inches from where your knees are jittering. His hands come down to grip them, giving them a squeeze. If it’s meant to be comforting, his intentions are lost in translation.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough with you,” he says. Offers you an out. “Maybe I’ve given you too much freedom.”

At that, he sinks to his knees before you and, without warning, parts your legs. You yelp, trying to pull away, but he keeps you tethered to the spot. His hands shoot to the top of your thighs and you can feel his fingers hooking over the sides of your bed shorts.

You try to reason with him, try to tell him you’ll do whatever he wants, so long as he doesn’t hurt you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Only want to show you–” he pulls the sides of your shorts down– “what you’re missing.”

Alejandro

The instigator of such a cold reception from Alejandro had been your refusal of a date with him. One which, unbeknownst to you, he’d been planning and psyching himself up for for the past week.

“I see.” Alejandro’s face was stern, thunder clouds rolling over him, making his features dark and pointed. The onset of a storm.

You didn’t know what to say, what to do, as Alejandro stood by your front door, dressed as if he was prepared to take you out right now.

You could see his jaw clench, his eye twitch.

“Is there someone else?” he asks.

You know that getting rejected solely because someone favours another over you is bad, but being rejected without competition is worse. You swallow, unsure of which option will infuriate Alejandro more. When you fail to answer, he sighs.

“You know, I always thought you were smarter than this, (Y/N).” His voice is low and intentional, like a plane flying too close to the ground. You look up, only to find him staring down at you, taking up all the space of your doorway with his hand perched on top of it like it’s nothing.

“But maybe I just have to teach you.”

You try to speak up for yourself, try to ask Alejandro what he’s playing at, but he shushes you. Steps into your home.

“I’ll have you crawling back to me by the night’s end, Cariño.” His words carry a weight that roots you in place. “I promise you that.”

Rodolfo

“Oh, I know,” he says with all the certainty in the world. You’re in his apartment, coming to break the news to him that you can’t accept his boyfriend proposal; the one he’d sent you in a five-page-long love letter.

You blink, befuddled. “You…you know?” Your brow raises. “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

Rudy gives a hum, a smiling one. He puts his hands in his pockets, leans against the wall behind him.

“That’s because I know you don’t mean it.” He gives you little time to contemplate his statement before he’s descending upon you like a solar eclipse. “I just needed an excuse to get you somewhere we wouldn’t be…” He searches for the right word. “Disturbed.”

Strange, considering how he was disturbing you right now. He went on.

“I mean, how else was I going to get you here? If I’d just text you, you could shoot me down without coming anywhere near me. But now,” he’s close enough that his hands rest on your arms when he reaches for you, pulling him closer to him. You stumble on uncertain legs.

His grip is soft but you feel trapped, even if Rudy is one of the few people you’d feel comfortable being trapped with.

“Now,” he says, voice low. He pulls you into his chest, hard with years of training.

“I can show you how well I can please you.”

Graves

Graves is far more used to being the player, not the played. So when he discovered that you were, in fact, engaging in what could be construed as promiscuous behaviour with him without the intention of falling for his charms, he went silent. His stare hardened.

He’d never admit it, but he’d actually grown to like you in the time you’d been together. A lot.

“So that’s it?” he says. His voice, usually rounded with his southern charm and honeyed words, strikes you like an arrow, ice and sharp. “We have a good thing goin’ and you’re just gonna throw it all away?”

You’d tried to explain to him that no, that wasn’t what you meant when you’d suggested some time apart. You just wanted to explore other options, is all.

He gives a whiplash, humourless laugh.

“Can tell you’re lyin’ from a mile away. I know you want me, need me.”

When you roll your eyes, ready to back out of the conversation altogether, he’s on you, closing the gap between you and gripping you by your shoulders. He presses you against the wall.

“Fight it all you want, but we both know you’re just gonna come crawlin’ back, so why don’t I make this easy for ya.” His breath is hot against your cheeks, a bull on the prowl. His fingers dig into your shoulders and he gives you an impish smile. One that seems to substitute something much more insidious.

“I’ll have you begging me to fuck you by the end of the night,” he promises. “One way or another, whether you like it or not, m’gonna make you all mine.”

Gaz

Gaz has played the nice guy for far too long. This, he realises as he watches someone try to chat you up from across the bar, only to make the fatal mistake he himself had made: leaving you unattended.

Gaz wasted no time. He slithered through the crowded bar to you, taking your wrist in his hand on his way. He dragged you to a small room, dark and out of the way. He locked the door behind him.

“What was all that about, then.”

He faces away from you, but even through the dim light of the one, flickering light bulb above you, you could see his shoulders heaving, his hands clenched into fists as he awaits your response.

A friend, just some guy – it doesn’t matter. Gaz turns and bears down on you, backing you against the wall. Your hands fly up to his chest to try and quell him, to put some distance between the two of you. His heart pounds and so does yours, albeit for different reasons.

“You’re mine,” he says. He pens you in, his form broad and sculpted by horrors unknown. A hand comes to take your chin between its fingers, jerking your gaze to meet his. “Have I not worked hard enough to be able to have you yet.”

His voice cracks, though he shows no signs of crying. No, Instead he presses his front to yours. Something catches your thigh and you gasp.

“Maybe you just need reminding,” he tells you, “of how much I’ve done for you.” He rolls his hips against you, his hands coming to bolt themselves on the wall behind you, caging you.

“How much I can do.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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professional-rat-eater · 2 months ago

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I do like the concept of Daniel attempting to point out Armand’s extensive trauma from Marius’s treatment because I do think as someone who spent his career cataloging the horrors the world has to offer and has no issue calling things out for exactly what they are, he’d not be able to entertain the bullshit Armand says to justify it. That just feels in character for the man we’ve gotten to know.

However, I do not think it would help. In fact, I think it’s important that it doesn’t.

I think Daniel would learn the hard way, likely through a number of ugly, ugly arguments, that Armand is much too deep in this trauma for merely pointing out the obvious to actually be helpful. It’s cathartic to read fics where Armand gets to heal but often I think it happens far too quickly. He has demonstrated already that he knows what happened to him wasn’t all okay, though to what degree he knows this we haven’t heard in detail as of yet.

What we do know is that it has been sitting in his mind for hundreds of years, undisturbed, blending in with all his other trauma, silently shaping who he is and informing his decisions. That’s perhaps the most difficult part. Most human beings with intense traumas spend their entire lives unpacking it. Imagine if you had centuries between you and what happened to you.

Daniel is the first person Armand has met who both has a modern worldview where abuse is simply labelled abuse and is actually invested in him enough to notice and point it out.

What I do hope and believe could happen, though I doubt we’d see it because these bitches are messy and we’d need fifty more books/seasons to cover it, is that Daniel is able to help Armand, not as someone who is there to save him and ‘fix’ him, but as his companion and someone who loves him as people are supposed to be loved. He can only help him as much as an outside person who was not a witness can, so the majority of the work still lies on Armand and that means Armand has to want to do it. It’s slow, and painful and they fight about it all the time, but they don’t give up.

It’s important that it’s because Daniel loves him, not because it’s his job to change him. When you love someone you don’t want them to suffer, and he spent his mortal life piecing people’s stories together. He helped Louis make sense of his past and demonstrated that it wasn’t out of some ruthless desire to be the one to get the story. He grew to care about Louis. And this is Armand. He’s in love with him, so the investment is even deeper.

When I say it takes a long time, I mean longer than any average human would have, especially since for a very long time, Venice actually was the only bright spot in Armand’s existence. I think I’d look back on it fondly too, and now he has to contend with completely recontextualising it. But look at what the first five hundred years of life turned Armand into. Where could he be in the next five hundred? They have so much time to figure it out.

I don’t even need to see it, it’s just a comforting thought to believe that it could happen.

(And it goes without saying this is a mutual thing. Armand could help Daniel grow in ways we cannot even conceive, but that in itself is an entirely separate post.)

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #the vampire armand #daniel molloy #the vampire chronicles #anne rice #amc iwtv #devils minion #devil’s minion #marius de fuckface #anti marius de romanus #armandaniel

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connorsui · 9 months ago

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In the Quiet Afterhours

Zayne x reader

Synopsis: In the quiet of afterhours, you and zayne find solace in the intimacy of simple acts of care, your love unspoken yet deeply felt through the tenderness of shared moments.

Genre/warnings: pure fluff, silence of intimacy, zayne wanting to drown himself in your warmth, you are the light in this manz life, no warnings tho …zayne has suffered enough

note: I just wanna take care of him...like plz let me give my man his needed care..

w.: 1,180

There was, perhaps, no greater feeling than the quietude of love that existed in those moments where words fell away, leaving only the hum of companionship to bind two souls together. Zayne had always been a man of few words—practical in his pursuits, level-headed in his judgments, and ever the picture of self-possession. Yet, beneath that stern exterior, there was a tenderness reserved solely for you, a tenderness that revealed itself not in grand gestures or fervent declarations, but in the subtleties of shared moments, and the warmth of a gaze lingering far longer than propriety might allow.

This evening was no different, save for the weariness etched into his fine features, the faint shadows under his hazel-green eyes telling the tale of a long day spent in service to duty. He returned home as he always did—quietly, with little fanfare, his shoulders still squared despite the obvious weight that pressed upon him. And yet, when his eyes found yours, there was a softening in his expression, the firm lines of his brow relaxing as though the sight of you alone was enough to ease the burdens he carried.

"Welcome home," you murmured, the warmth of your voice drawing him nearer.

"Hello, love"

Zayne, ever pragmatic, offered a small nod, but it was the way his hand rose to brush a stray lock of hair from your cheek that spoke volumes more than any pleasantry could. There was an intimacy in that touch, in the way his fingers lingered against your skin as though reluctant to part, as though you alone were the balm to his tired soul.

He said little as you coaxed him toward the shower, his resistance nonexistent, for he had learned, in these quiet moments, to let you care for him. It was a remarkable thing, this unspoken understanding between you—a partnership built on the most delicate threads of love, trust, and respect. You, in turn, had come to know that behind Zayne’s pragmatic exterior was a man who cherished the simplicity of your presence, a man who allowed himself to be vulnerable only when the world outside had no claim on him.

The warm cascade of water was a gentle relief, steam curling in the air as you worked the soap into your hands, your fingers gliding over his tense shoulders. The muscles beneath your touch, though firm, betrayed a quiet exhaustion, and as you began to wash him, you could feel the faint tremor of relief in his body, the tension slowly unraveling.

He closed his eyes, his lips parting in a near inaudible sigh, and for a moment, he was not the stoic officer, nor the pragmatic strategist. He was simply Zayne, a man who found comfort in your touch, in the way your hands moved with careful precision over his skin, tracing the curves and lines that you had come to know so intimately.

In another’s eyes, this scene might have seemed mundane, but there was an indescribable beauty in the familiarity of it all—a beauty that lay not in grandiose acts of affection but in the quiet devotion with which you attended to one another. It was a love that needed no embellishment, no flowery language to justify its existence, for it was rooted in something far more profound.

When your hands drifted lower, the soap lathering between your fingers, Zayne’s eyes fluttered open, and there it was again—that look of quiet reverence that always seemed to accompany his gaze when it fell upon you. It was not the gaze of a man merely admiring your physical form, but the gaze of a man rediscovering you anew each time, as though the sight of you was enough to set his soul alight in ways words could never adequately express.

He said nothing, but the faintest upward curve of his lips betrayed him. “Spoiling me again?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing in a way that would have seemed foreign to anyone but you.

“And why shouldn’t I?” you replied softly, smiling as your hands worked the soap along the lines of his body. “You work so hard... At least let me take care of you.”

There was a moment, brief yet timeless, where Zayne’s eyes softened even further, the weight of his exhaustion giving way to something deeper, something far more tender. It was in these moments that you truly understood the depth of his affections. He would never speak them outright, for it was not his nature to indulge in the overt declarations that many sought in love. Yet, in the way he stood before you, allowing you to see him in his most vulnerable state, you knew. You knew that his heart, so often guarded, was entirely yours.

When it came time to wash his hair, Zayne bent forward with practiced ease, his dark hair falling over his brow as you lathered the shampoo into his scalp. You laughed, as you always did, at the way his hair fluffed beneath the suds, your amusement drawing a faint smile from him.

“You look cute like this,” you teased, the lightness in your voice a welcome contrast to the quiet of the room.

He glanced up at you, one eyebrow raised in mock indignation. “cute?...another word for you to describe me...” he echoed, his voice dry, though the glint in his hazel eyes betrayed his amusement. “If you could see how I invision you, the roles would be reversed"

Yet he made no protest, content to let you have your moment of playful teasing. For all his stoicism, Zayne had always had a soft spot for the way your laughter lit up the room, and though he would never admit it aloud, he found your teasing far more endearing than he let on.

When the roles reversed, and it was Zayne’s hands that worked the soap into your hair, he was as gentle as ever. His fingers moved with a precision that was unmistakably him, careful to ensure no soap slipped into your eyes. “I know you say I deserved to be spoiled but allow me to give that in return, ten times fold ” he murmured, his voice a quiet caress, his touch so tender it felt as though you might melt beneath it.

You didn't argue.

Once the water had washed away the last traces of soap, he reached for a towel, and in the same unhurried manner, began to dry you off with the utmost care, as though each motion was imbued with the love he so rarely spoke of. It was in these moments, in the quiet spaces between words, that you truly understood the depth of Zayne’s love for you—a love that, like the stars themselves, was constant, enduring, and far more profound than words could ever convey.

Even after the task was complete, he lingered, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close in an embrace that spoke of more than just comfort. It was connection, the unspoken promise that even in silence, his heart was yours.

His breath, soft against your neck, mingled with the warmth of your skin, and there, in the quiet afterhours of the day, there was no need for words.

Just the two of you alone.

Gimmie a tired zayne I would take care of him

#suiwrites🍒#love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace #zayne x you #zayne x y/n #lads x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #lads zayne #lnds zayne #l&ds zayne #lnds zayne x reader #l&ds zayne x reader #lads zayne x reader

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inafieldofstarflowers · 1 month ago

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Obviously the first chapter of The Foxhole Court lays the groundwork/provides background for a lot of parts of the series (Exy, the Foxes, who Andrew is, hints at Neil’s past, etc.), but I think one of the most important (& honestly masterful) things Nora does in it is establish the relationship between Neil, Exy, and Kevin.

When we meet Neil, he’s literally on the bleachers in pain from watching the Exy court be turned back into a soccer field, because that’s basically a crime to him. While yes, this is a funny comment because it’s so deeply dramatic, the following explanation that it’s the one thing Neil has never been able to let go of through all of the identities he’s held makes it clear that Exy is something more to Neil than just a game; rather, it’s a symbol of his lost childhood, of the way things might have been if he and his mother hadn’t run. Still, Neil is torn about the idea of pursuing Exy, because his love for it is warring with his mom’s instructions not to play again in order to remain safe and under the radar.

Enter David Wymack with a contract—or, really, Kevin Day with a contract.

Even Wymack says that Kevin is the one signing Neil. Kevin, who Neil met once as a child, when they played a game of Exy together. Kevin, who has spent the years Neil has been on the run building his skills to become a star Exy player. Kevin, who has a career it is obvious Neil has followed closely.

At this point, Neil reaches two important conclusions:

He would be in danger of losing everything if Kevin remembered him, but he doesn’t seem to

The offer of a contract doesn’t matter, because Neil Josten isn’t real—no matter “how much he liked being Neil Josten”

And this is where (in my opinion) things get very interesting: as Neil thinks about the offer to play for the Foxes—& therefore with Kevin—he thinks that he doesn’t want to give up Exy because “It was the only thing that made him feel real,” and then follows this up with the thought that “[His] past was locked in Kevin’s memories. It was proof he existed, same as this game they both played. Kevin was proof Neil was real.”

Since Kevin was first mentioned, it has been in relation to his Exy career—his partnership with Riko, the broken hand that halted his career briefly, signing to the Foxes, the speculation about Andrew’s impact on that choice—because that is the thing about him that matters to Neil—or, perhaps more accurately, it’s the only thing Neil really knows about him. Neil’s concerns about Kevin remembering him are so loud that they can make it easy to overlook the fact that Kevin and Neil aren’t reunited childhood friends, they’re just people who essentially had a really fucked up playdate once.

The thing is, that day is the one with the biggest what-ifs for Neil, and as a result, Kevin is wrapped up in those what-ifs: for Neil, it’s become a question of if I had stayed, would I have reached stardom like Kevin has? Exy and Kevin, while not fully interchangeable, are certainly inextricably linked in Neil’s mind, and they are also both tied up in Neil’s dreams and regrets.

Why does this matter? Two main reasons: first, having this background shows us why Kevin is so important to Neil: no matter how much Neil doesn’t want to be Nathaniel anymore, Nathaniel was the one who was real. The only things at the start of the series that give Neil Josten that same feeling are playing Exy and Kevin Day.

Second, we are immediately shown that Neil’s perception of Kevin is not entirely trustworthy, because its foundation is one traumatic childhood event followed by a years-long parasocial relationship. And, while Neil certainly gets to know Kevin better as the series goes on and they actually start spending time together, there are many moments where Neil views Kevin through a lens that is too close to being “Kevin=star Exy player,” which results in him misinterpreting Kevin’s meaning (ie after Kevin learns who he is and Neil thinks he’s just concerned about their season even though Kevin’s telling him to run) or simply brushing over other parts of his personality (ie when he buys into the “Kevin only cares about Exy” idea some of the others have said). By making us aware of this early, Nora is preparing us to examine what Neil’s saying for bias by showing that he isn’t an entirely reliable narrator, and it’s done so well in just a few pages.

#aftg #all for the game #kevin day #neil josten #aftg meta #meta

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blueraith · 5 months ago

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"How could Vi not notice her sister is suicidal?!"

I feel like people who ask this question have a fundamentally immature understanding of depression and suicidal thoughts/actions, and how the two affect people OUTSIDE of the person suffering from these conditions. Perhaps you guys are young, and you don't know how to view this matter outside of yourselves and your own perception, but it is tragically common for people to miss seemingly "obvious" details that lead up to a loved one's suicide. "I didn't notice anything was wrong" is about one of the most common refrains you'll hear after the fact.

Let’s also remember that Vi does not actually know all of Jinx's emotional tells or signs of an impending episode. She is confused each and every time Jinx goes through one and almost always unintentionally triggers her. This because it's been SEVEN FUCKING YEARS since they've seen, spoken to, or lived together.

Neither Jinx or Vi actually know the current versions of each other very well, it's one of the reasons they keep hurting each other, and part of the tragedy of their relationship.

Look, I have depression. I've had it since I was about 15 or so. I can recall self-isolating or worse and assuming my parents or friends or a teacher would notice and rush to my aid or something.

Never happened. Because depression isn't always a very obvious condition. People mask in different ways, and not always with the conscious intention to hide their symptoms. Sometimes, people with depression mask simply because it makes it slightly easier to get through the day. Jinx's case would likely be even more difficult to spot because of the manic side of her condition.

I ended up getting the bulk of my care taken care of as an adult. Mostly because I could finally advocate for myself and I also realized that NO ONE is going to notice the more alarming symptoms of my own depression better than me.

This is not to say that you can't have a support network. Or that members of that support network WON'T spot something you've overlooked from time-to-time.

But Vi is not Jinx's support network. (Arguably Sevika is far better placed for that.) She might have gotten there eventually if Act 2 hadn't ended the way that it had, but that dream of the sisters being able to recreate their lost family was shattered and the progress they were making in getting to know each other halted at Jinx's realization that she needed to leave for Vi to move on.

I don't know, it's like some of you expect everyone in your lives or in other, unrelated media to have a 13 Reasons Why style reaction any time someone shows symptoms of suicidal thoughts or actions, or when one occurs. This is almost an absurd thing to expect out of anyone unfamiliar with what depression or suicidal thoughts actually look like. Like, if you're American, this idea that everyone everywhere is familiar with what a mental health crisis looks like is even more tragically farcical because we can't even admit that poor mental health is an aspect of mass shootings here as a society and culture.

And y'all expect the ex-con stuffed into a box since the age of 15 or so to be able to just instantly spot that her sister--again whose symptoms she's very obviously not familiar with--is going through a crisis event?

Like, damn, no one in this fandom is cut more slack than Jinx, and this entire criticism of Vi makes that more clear than any other. It's a position ironically devoid of any and all empathy, probably because y'all spent it all on Jinx, and assumes a sort of selfishness and coldness towards Vi that is in no way, shape, or form supported by canon.

It's honestly an argument that I dismiss entirely the moment a person attempts to make it. Largely because I am exhausted of how hypocritical this aspect of the famdom becomes towards Vi. Jinx's actions are a large part of the reason Vi sinks into alcoholism. She then proceeds to taunt Vi about it in the mines as if Vi's pain is nothing to her.

I NEVER hear anyone talk about that. It's almost always about how Vi should have done better. How Vi hurt Jinx. How Vi wasn't good enough.

It's some Grade A, Bonafide Bullshit™

Vi and Jinx were never going to ride off into the sunset together. If that is something you thought was going to happen and are now irrationally blaming Vi for because you're disappointed....? I don't know what to tell you. I personally thought it was pretty obvious that they were Doomed Siblings in this storyline and any potential, permanent reconciliation between them may happen in some far off sequel project or not at all.

#vi arcane #arcane #arcane season 2 #jinx arcane #jinx and vi

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lanabuckybarnes · 10 days ago

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"𝓒𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼."

After feeling peckish you grab the first thing for the cupboard. An unassuming red box. Turns out, the box nearly kills you and you're forced to seek refuge to hide out storm Yelena.

-°❀.ೃ࿔*-

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: John Walker x Reader (F)

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰(𝓼): Threats. Stripping. Stalking fr (not intentional). Grumpy John. Implied Smut - Any more let me know!!!

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 1.1K

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: So this is not what I had planned on posting but Lee is taking some time and I had some 5am John Walker thoughts, so you get this, sorry. He's literally infected me 😩 Also, something that isn't just straight sex, from me? Ew. Also, also, maybe part two?

Thundering in your ears, your pulse races. There’s a sliver of light, but that’s all. Darkness shrouds you, leaving you solitary with your panting breaths and racing mind.

You truly don’t know what you have taken and the risk to your life to do so. Enclosed within the confines of cloth rapidly reminded you. The clothing smells like spice and sandalwood. Manly. The owner of the sweaters was a man, a deliciously smelling gentleman. Yelena rages outside your safe space, voice muffled but ever present. You pray to all who would listen that she didn’t sniff you out and finish you off for good. Her words were enough.

In the mad dash for protection you clambered into the only open room, door hissing lightly as it sank into the wall, closing again and click, you were locked in. But that wasn’t enough. You scour the almost entirely pitch black room, save for the fluorescent buzz of the bathroom light seeping through the narrow crack of the door. The bathroom was an idea, but too obvious. So you dove for the closet, the doors squeaking as you closed them just enough. For a newly renovated building, everything creaked as though money had been spent elsewhere. On Fontaine’s solitary floor most likely.

But you didn’t have the time to think about how much money Valentina had saved skimping out on you and your fellow teammates, the room door was open again. Heavy footsteps follow, tired, cautious. Then a groan. Your eyes bulge and heart kicks to life in your throat. John. The air of “True American Spice” made sense now.

He’d just come home from a mission. Three whole days in the Middle East working covert ops; reconnaissance then a swift goodnight for anyone De Fontaine deemed a threat. All he needed now was a hot steamy shower and his bed. Perhaps ‘me’ time too, who knows.

He pulls the beret off of his head, gloved hand tussling blonde tresses from the wax he coated it in. It barely moved. Gloves followed, unzipped and tossed beside the tan cap on his bed. He’d throw them on the floor later.

Piece by piece John strips himself; the harness for his shield--he still wore it despite his shield being bent out of shape--his combat boots, then the Kevlar two piece. He yanks it off as though it burned, like it was super glued to his skin. The trousers follow, leaving him in the mesh undershirt and black briefs.

Your eyes follow each curve, slope, divot. Down the slope of his nose, over the curve of his bearded lip, collarbones, layers of corded muscle beneath sun-tanned skin. Freckles peek out beneath the dark mesh, humanising the carved god that was John Walker. You would never admit it to anyone but these past months, living and breathing within close quarters to the ever arrogant Walker has changed you. For the worst for sure, but you never cared what others thought.

You saw a side the media had scrubbed, choosing to portray him as heartless, a demon Cap. You saw John, broken soldier, mourning friend. He tried. He cooked for the team most days, complaining the whole time but the meals were always delicious. He made sure the team got their rest, and their time to unwind. And he was an ear, to chew off or to cry to, he listened. Along the way your heart began to march to the beat of its own drum around him, that arrogant countenance permanently marring his features, softened to something placid in your eyes. He was never peaceful, but he was close in your presence. You had fallen for John, asshole, Walker. He had found himself in the same predicament involving you.

And now you were watching his briefs fall to the floor, joining his pile of gear. The mesh underpiece feathering onto the plush carpet also. Muscles ripple along his back as his arms reach to the sky. There's new battle wounds along his skin, joining his collection, bruises yellowing already, his serum subtle but healing powerful.

You squeak when he turns, Adonis leading your eyes downward. He was very well endowed, infuriatingly so, but beyond that he was gorgeous. Your eyes skirt back up to his visage, your stomach drops.

Blue hues, dark and menacing, bore into your soul. Blonde brows knit and the muscles in his cheeks twit as his stark naked self marches over to the closet. One minute you were snuggling his casual wear, the next you had care-worn fingers clenching your jaw, pulling you out of your safehouse.

“What the fuck?” You were nose to nose with him, tiny hands--in comparison to all of him--hovering above his pecs, itching to touch but not wanting to push. You share breaths, your gasping ones mingling with enraged pants. Silence lingers, far longer than awkward status.

“I-I’m sorry! I w-wasn’t being creepy. I was hiding from Yelena. I ate her last red box of mac and cheese and she was chasing me with a knife! Your room was the only one unlocked and I-- I’m sorry.”

Rambling, John barely catches any of what you say. Yelena and knife mostly. His expression softens and his hand let you go, but you didn’t dare move.

“So you sat in my closet and watched me strip?”

You gape.

Fair point.

You had every chance to reveal yourself before he was bare. Bare. He. Was. Naked.

Your eyes flick down without your brain's permission. Fuck-- he was right against your thigh, twitching lightly at the breeze of your leg against him.

Crimson blooms over your cheeks and down your neck. You dare a step back but he speaks again and you stiffen, body subservient to him.

“You wanted to see. Stay where you are.”

“I-I’m really sorry I’ll just get out of your hair--”

John growls, rumbling low in his chest, it vibrates your core. Nostrils flare, eyes picking you apart like a vulture on a carcass. He could definitely hear your racing heart, smell your lust.

“Yelena is just outside that door, you wanna die today, Hon?” He purrs, a lone finger under your chin, inching your head up to look him in the eyes.

“N-not particularly.” Meekly, you answer. Ringing your fingers together tightly, your thighs twitch desperately, aching to squeeze together, relieve that itch somehow. He notices. He didn’t get three medals of honour and that Captain title for nothing. Reading human behaviour was second nature to Walker. And you weren’t good at hiding what you wanted.

“Looks like you're stuck with me then. If that’s what you want?” His words, softer this time still held an edge of that pussy-aching authority. He begs an honest answer from you, he wouldn’t force you into anything.

You really, really want this.

“Yes, John. I want-- need that.”

“Good girl,” he praises, Georgian accent ringing through thick and hungry.

“On the bed then.”

Comments, Reblogs, Likes & Asks are always appreciated (although if you liked this piece please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience). They let me know that you are enjoying what I’m publishing and gives me motivation to right more.

I DO NOT give permission to have my work copied, translated, or reposted under a different account. If you see my work on anywhere else except this page I have not given consent for it to be used. Please report and tell me.

Thank you for reading~

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fatuismooches · 1 month ago

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Rooibos tea with pantalone??? ASCENDING 🙏🙏

rooibos tea; what’s their favourite thing to do with their s/o?

It’s hard to pinpoint what Pantalone’s favorite thing to do with you is.

After all, when you’re someone who has as much wealth as Regrator does, you’re most likely at no loss for activities to do. Despite the sentiment being debated, money does, in fact, buy happiness.

Starting from the classic, shopping. Actually, scratch that. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t really go shopping with your husband. Rather, he is the one who shops by himself (for you) because whenever you two go out together, your poor heart aches for the agents that need to transport all of the clothes, accessories, jewelry, and a multitude of other items back to the mansion. Not to mention, you don’t even need these things. Of course, you’ve tried to stop him, mainly by holding both of his hands hostage so he can’t pull out a check. But then you later find your closet has some new additions within the next few days anyway.

The Harbinger does not understand the concept of window shopping either, unfortunately. Pantalone claims that it’s good for the Snezhnayan economy, which you’re sure has some truth to it, but you’re also sure it’s a way to appease your scolding instead. Of course, you appreciate how sweet he is, but you’d just rather have an agent buy anything you need instead. However, he proceeds to get pouty whenever he finds out you “went behind his back”. You think he’s being silly since he gave you your own bank account with an unfathomable amount of Mora for a reason.

Putting that aside, the shopping is just a prerequisite to the actual activity you two do together, which is none other than dressing you up with the things he bought. It’s very obvious that he enjoys seeing the fruits of his labor being spent on his dearest beloved, specifically in physical form. It is one of the most important uses of his overflowing funds!

Although technically this is supposed to be relaxing, the banker can be surprisingly strict. Pantalone has a very good sense of fashion, most likely due to all his experience being in the public spotlight. Prepare to be fussed over about which clothes match with what accessories and shoes, and spending ages creating just one outfit (which you will wear as his partner to the next gathering).

“Pantalone, I’ve been posing like this for at least fifteen minutes! Can I sit down?!”

“Just a bit longer, my love. This angle truly brings out your beauty,” Pantalone always says as he circles around you, holding an item up to you and squinting at your frame. Sometimes you wonder if this is tiring for him, but you guess not because he is very enthusiastic about this…

But another activity you two rather frequently partake in is the simple act of shared meals. Yes, his work as a Harbinger keeps him busy, but you two still spend a pretty good amount of time together (maybe that one other Harbinger should take notes). And what other way to do so than by eating together? The banker truly believes that sharing an exquisite meal while chatting with his beloved is one of life’s greatest pleasures.

Though he never says anything, perhaps the reason he is so fond of doing this with you is how contrasting it is with his own childhood. A meal used to be hard to find. It used to be tasteless and unable to be savored, a lonesome thing. And yet now, your presence makes everything worthwhile, even if it’s just food.

“Come now, ‘Lone, open wide!” You attempted to spoon-feed him some of the unwanted vegetables left on your plate.

“Very well,” he chuckled and let you feed him, happy to play along with you. Even though Pantalone now had refined tastes, he could eat practically anything. “Now then, it’s your turn.” You were always unable to escape from his clutches, unfortunately.

Ah, but you two do enjoy the arts from time to time, namely, plays and the like. In fact, the Ninth even funds some performances that catch his eye occasionally. It is something rather nice to indulge in sometimes, mostly with you as his company. Of course, anything that the Harbinger attends is always bound to draw crowds and gossip, which he doesn’t mind. If anything, as possessive as he is, he enjoys the compliments directed at you. Anyone with eyes can surely recognize the priceless treasure he was fortunate enough to procure - a treasure so lovely, but so out of reach, that none other would dare to touch.

“You know, that character reminds me of you. Ambitious, mischievous, intelligent, cute, handsome…”

“Dearest, I’m not sure whether to be pleased you think I’m handsome and cute, or bothered by you calling another man those things.”

But as much as Pantalone deeply enjoys these moments of bonding, it would probably be inaccurate to claim any of them as his favorite. So then, what would one of the wealthiest individuals in Teyvat most enjoy doing with his lover? It’s a curious question indeed.

Well, to put it in Pantalone’s wording, it all comes down to the concept of “fair exchange” once again, only that it gets a bit twisted since it has to do with his lovely spouse after all.

Regrator is a man who manipulates others and the flow of money with ease, goals and plans so great that it’s unsettling, and a mind so sly and intricate that anyone would be frightened to go against him.

And yet he, too, possesses a heart fueled by resentment.

Though Pantalone would never dare to reveal a potential weakness in front of others (unless it was on purpose to lure others into traps), he still grapples with this hatred contained deep in his heart. Every day, he walks high and mighty, his previous status still lingering behind him. A perfectly forced smile that doesn’t seem forced to the average person’s eyes. And there’s a reason why he seldom shows others his eyes - they would show his sheer disdain for them.

So, how does he balance these unruly emotions?

Well, it wasn’t uncommon for your husband to take a break from his duties in the middle of them from time to time. Sometimes, he even visited you. This was one such time, but you just knew from his demeanor that he wasn’t feeling himself.

“Come here,” you urge him with your arms spread wide. Without words, Pantalone lets himself be wrapped up by you and nuzzles into your warmth (despite him already donning that huge coat of his). It was a bit silly for him to feel so validated from the mere act of you hugging and holding him close, but he truly loved it. He feels that you really do understand him.

“… Want me to talk your ears off?” You suggest, knowing that Pantalone rarely ever wants to open up all that much, especially when he was heading right back into the world that cast him out soon after. And so, he likes it when you talk instead. You have a talent for making a genuine smile quirk up on his face, which is something he admires.

When you murmur your husband’s real name and press kisses alongside his neck, he lets you. He relaxes in your embrace and lets your comforting soul do the rest. This, he thinks, is what he’s rewarded with. Being able to be comforted by you is what he desires.

Despite the radio silence that the Gods had given him, they surely didn’t anticipate him receiving a gift as spectacular as you. He’ll take it - take you - over and over again as an exchange for his past, and never let you go.

It is probably an unsatisfactory answer, compared to the mountain of other exciting things he can do with you. But Pantalone has never cared, since you are the only one who can balance the scales of his heart and the world.

#pantalone x reader #pantalone love notes <3 #ANON WHY R U ASCENDING IM GIGGLING #regardless... it was nice to write for pookie pantalone... need him to hurry up and show his dumb face ...#genshin impact x reader #pantalone fluff #divider by cafekitsune

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sukirichi · 1 year ago

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 008 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

c/w. modern royal au. infidelity. angst. gaslighting. toxic characters. toxic relationships. mentions of neglect and abuse. hurt and comfort. unedited.

notes. thank you to everyone who waited patiently, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter <3 this will be the beginning of kiyoomi arc!

wc. 11k

series masterlist | next

[ EIGHT ] all they keep asking me is if I’m gonna be your bride – the only kind of girl they see is a one-night or a wife

The Kingdom of Inarizaki was at a loss whether to celebrate the early return of the latest married couple from their honeymoon. The couple seemed to be doing great – according to the tabloids, anyway. When they arrived, the Princes and their wives waved to the people, all eager for a glimpse of the infamous couple who had married for love. For two years, society had their eyes on you – the shy, reserved noblewoman who caught the eye and heart of their one and only Crown Prince Suna Rintaro. And oh, what a wedding it was, broadcasted all over the world and celebrated like a holiday.

What the world didn’t know was that it was an entirely different story behind the Palace walls.

You may share a bedroom, but never the bed. You’d been acquainted with the couch for the next few nights, only seeing your husband once in the mornings before he left to do his duties, and every now and then when the Queen wanted to have dinner. Not that you were complaining – the space was most appreciated. Without Suna lingering, there’d be less reminders of how much of a fool he took you. A naïve, young woman who really deluded herself into believing a Prince could want her. Although…

Suna didn’t not want you, either.

In the few spaces in between, he would look for you. He would make small talk and ask if you’ve eaten. If you liked breakfast, which was a silly question, since it was always tea and waffles. If you enjoyed yourself while he was away, this, again, was a silly question. You spent the mind–numbing hours blaming yourself for being in this predicament. That, perhaps, if you had just been brave to walk away that night you found out the truth, then you wouldn’t be out here wondering if the maids’ whispers were true – that Suna spent most of his nights at Belleview Manor, because quote unquote, “he was unwelcome in his own quarters.”

As if somehow it was your fault he did not feel comfortable to sleep under the same roof with you.

Sighing, you flipped your novel closed. No one had given you official duties yet, other than the blatantly obvious one of giving the Crown Prince an heir. ‘They will have such sleepless nights!’, the Queen’s goons crooned. ‘So young and virile, they are, we’ll have a new Crown Prince in no time!’ Oh, if only it were that easy. If there were to be a Prince, Iris would most likely be the mother, considering he saw her more often than you did. And how funny of a thought that was – you wanted distance from him, yet something died inside you little by little the colder your room got.

“Since we have returned, my schedule will be full.”

You glanced up from where you sat. Suna had sauntered back into the room, his tie loosened; hair messed up like he ran his fingers through it several times. Already, a servant stood beside him to comb his hair back neatly. You couldn’t help but stare. How long had it been since you combed his hair for him? You knew he hated it when they gelled it back. He preferred it messy and unkempt, saying his bedroom hair felt most natural. The bedroom hair he’s shown only to you in the quiet breaks of the night when he was in your bed.

The bedroom hair Iris had seen, as well.

Just the thought of it forces a smile on your face. Standing up, you brushed off the imaginary dust off your skirt. Less than a week in the Palace, and you were already so miserable. You could at least try to look less bothered by his unrequited affections.

“Do what you must.”

Once his hair had been brushed to perfection, Suna gestured for his servant to step away. The man politely bowed down before exiting the room. “I mean to say,” he continued, stepping closer now that there was no one else around. Your breath hitched the closer he got, but you dared not move, not even when his warm, familiar hand cups the curve of your cheek. “The meetings I must attend and people to deal with will take up most of my time.”

You knew what he was trying to say – that he wouldn’t be around, and you had to entertain yourself in his absence. Gently, you take a step back from his touch, watching as an unreadable expression crosses his face.

“And as I have said, do what you must. I have my own duties to fulfill as well.”

“You do not sound bothered by this.”

“Why should I be?” you shrugged, “If I am to be stuck with you for the rest of my life, surely I can enjoy what little time left I have for myself.”

Suna’s lips thinned. “You could act a little less eager to get rid of me.”

“On the contrary, I have no intention of leaving.”

“So I will see you tonight?”

“If we run into each other at the palace, yes, yes you will.”

If he seemed discontent with your half–hearted response, he did not show it. Must be the practiced regality and composure befitting for a Crown Prince like him – all lazy, yet wary, watching eyes. He, too, must know the true meaning behind your words. There was no need to pretend.

You both knew Suna would run into Belleview Manor as soon as the night ends, and his duties for the day had been tended to. Meanwhile, his wife would stay up all night in her couch.

Not quite waiting for him, but not quite imagining if he slept better at her side, either.

It was an unspoken deal between you two already. So he leaves without another word, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding when the door finally slams shut.

Tears prick at your eyes for the umpteenth time. You were tired of this. Tired of not knowing where you truly were in his life – were you his wife, his friend? After you’d heard of his passion and dedication to Iris, you weren’t so evil to stop him from seeing her. He loved her first. And you of all people should know the pain of not having the one person you wanted most. To him, she was his unattainable treasure. She was already making him smile before you even came to his life. She was already offering companionship and the comfort he desperately needed in this tiresome world of politics and power. She was his solace in all this chaos.

And you… you were just his wife. And without a baby in your belly, you might as well be just another useless figure in the Palace.

You refused to be so.

You may be worthless to him as his wife, for you truly couldn’t have his heart, but you refused to be a worthless person. Deep down, you knew you weren’t. It was just the title of ‘Princess’ that made you feel incapable and short. Did that mean you weren’t meant to be Princess, then? Should you go back to your manor, learning how to handle the household and managing the family business like your parents taught?

If you were not for Suna, did that mean you were not for the Crown, as well?

You bit your lip in contemplation. There was only one person who could provide you a solution to this.

“It is not every day I am summoned by a Princess,” a smooth, deep voice filtered through the garden. Smiling, you stood up to greet the Third Prince. A curtsy, a bow, and soon you two were sipping tea – the momentary peace a guise of what was to come. Kita must have sensed it, too, his gaze flitting over your pinched face with understanding and patience. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Surely we are not here to discuss the pleasantries of your honeymoon.”

You grimaced. “Definitely not. There were no pleasantries to begin with.”

His face fell.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you… My apologies. I’m not sure how to proceed with this.”

Nodding, you set your tea town. You had a feeling he truly meant his apology, which felt good, seeing as most of the Princes had too much pride to know the word ‘sorry.’ But you hd always known that Prince Kita was unlike the other Princes – he had more honor, and a stronger sense of morality compared to his brothers. Maybe it was due to his being raised by his mother, who was a lawyer, and therefore was not so exposed to the greed and competition experienced by the other Princes.

Whatever it was, he was just different. And you could rely on him to be truthful, too.

“Have you always known about them?” you muttered, refusing to look at the Prince’s face in fear of being met with pity. That was the last thing you wanted – to be seen as the poor, unwanted wife. “Iris and Rintaro?”

“I have.”

“I see.”

Kita sighed. “Please don’t misunderstand, Princess. I never meant to keep it from you. None of us did – except for those truly involved. It was just… I grew up with them, too. Keiji and I were only a year ahead of Rintaro and Iris. When I heard the Crown Prince had become acquainted with a foreign royal scholar, we didn’t think too much of it. Her sudden marriage with Kiyoomi surprised us all, and none of us would’ve thought that her friendship with Rintaro would turn into something more.”

“You don’t need to explain all of this to me, Your Highness.”

“Perhaps, but…” reaching over the table, the Prince squeezed your knuckle. You chuckled, not having realized you’d balled up your hands into a fist. It turned out you couldn’t fool anyone, not even yourself, to act like you didn’t care how much it all hurt. “I do not want you to think I am not on your side.”

“You do not need to be on my side. He is your brother.”

“Blood means little to me when my own kind is cruel to others,” he retorted, looking offended you would suggest otherwise. “I have always been against it, Princess. I told him from the beginning that to covet one’s brother’s wife is one thing, but to involve someone else, all for his selfish reason of ascending a throne that was always rightfully his just seemed heartless.”

Heartless. Gods. To know that your husband was capable of being cruel was one thing, but to hear it coming from his own brother’s lips was another.

“But Rintaro is Rintaro. Of course he is stubborn.”

“Indeed, he is,” Prince Kita sighed in defeat, leaning back against his seat as he stroked his chin in thought. “Princess, while I cannot guarantee I can take all of your woes away, I want you to know you can trust me. If there is anything you need, let me know and I will do it for you. It’s the least I can do to make your stay here in the Palace tolerable.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do, and I am a man of my word.”

“Then I suppose there’s no point beating around the bush,” you gritted your teeth, forcing the words to come out.

It had always been a lingering thought at the back of your mind – to leave Rintaro – but there was this prideful, equally stubborn voice at the back of your head telling you it was too early to give up. That you needed to fight. But what was there to fight for? It wasn’t like Rintaro would learn to love you. And neither do you plan on wooing him. So, instead, you swallowed up your pride and called for Kita, knowing he would never judge you for the choices you were about to make.

“I actually called for you today because I wish to discuss royal marital laws, possibly with your mother. She would know about it best.”

“You need legal counsel,” he caught on, and you nod, “I can arrange that. I assume you want it discreetly, too. That is no problem at all. But if I may be bold, I wish to ask something from you in return.”

“Name your price.”

“It is about this maid that I am fond of. Airi,” her name came out breathily from his mouth, almost like a whisper. You noticed the Prince glancing around the empty garden almost warily, though you already took measures to ensure no one would be around to witness this conversation. Reassured, Kita sat up straighter and looked you in the eye, nothing but sincerity and determination in his expression. “I will do anything you ask of me, as long as it is within legal reasons, if you take her in as your personal maid.”

“I’ve heard rumors about you having affections for a maid in your quarters,” you mumbled, feeling almost sorry for the kind–hearted Prince. It seemed he, too, did not escape the heartbreaking torment for falling for a person you could never have. “So it is true, after all.”

“It is. You seem surprised about it. Is it so shocking to learn of a Prince having genuine feelings for another?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. I think I should know best that passion is something you brothers certainly have,” you snort, and Kita fights back a grin. “Very well, then. I will take care of your lovely maid, although I do wish to know – why are you assigning her to me? Have you… done anything to stain her honor?”

The color seeped out of the Prince’s face.

“I would never do such a thing.”

“I figured you wouldn’t.”

Kita’s shoulders squared before he exhaled. “Airi is… Ever since I set my sights on her, she has been in danger. People have been very unkind towards her, especially with the staff in my quarters. And as much as I would love having her by my side in my every waking hour, it would break my heart to know that she is being looked down upon simply because I admire her. But I figure with her at your side, with a new assignment, she will have some peace.”

Your heart ached for him. You could tell this was not an easy decision to make, but a necessary one if he wanted to ensure his lover’s well-being.

“You can still see her, Your Highness. It’s not like I will take her away from you.”

“I wouldn’t let you, either, but these are very difficult times for everyone in the Palace. The security of the throne weakens every day. The Parliament is restless, and there is only so little I can do with all these failed unions,” he rattled on, eyes widening when he realized it too late. Bowing his head, the Prince’s brows furrowed. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to–”

“Our marriage is not a failed union. Not yet. I will make certain it will not be a failure.”

It couldn’t be a failure. There was only one way out of this dreadful marriage, and as much as you hated it, that exit only existed in a path where you had no choice but to let him be a great King. This is why you need Kita’s mother’s counsel. Surely there could be a loophole in the clause that would invalidate the marriage. But until that opportunity presents itself, you were stuck here in this Castle, surrounded by everyone but your husband.

You had to make it work.

“With all due respect, Princess,” sighs the Prince, looking more remorseful than irritated. “Why is it that you try so hard? You do not need to stay with him, you know. It may be against the law for royal marriages to be annulled, but surely we can find a way. You do not need to torture yourself by spending one more day with your husband.”

“I know that.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“Because,” you croaked out, feeling a lump grow in your throat. “Because loving him is all I had known, and perhaps it is time I learn to despise him, as well.”

Silence stretches. The prince sat there, unmoving, as your words hang in the thick air between you two. You knew he would understand; he wouldn’t judge. But there is still concern in his handsome features that made you realize how pitiful you really are. And maybe there was no one else to blame but yourself, because you were foolish, and in love. But you were trying – by the Gods, you really were doing your best – to just be in love and not have to be foolish anymore.

Kita could see this as well. Your strength, your grit. He could see everything from where he sat, and that was why he simply nodded. “Are you getting there yet?”

“I will get there someday.”

Before the Prince could say anything else, a servant appeared from the bushes. He looked sheepish upon the intrusion, an apologetic smile on his face directed to the Prince. “Your Highness. It is time for your lessons.”

The Prince sent you a knowing look. This was not to be the last time you see each other, and you smiled up at him, grateful. It felt good to have at least one person you could lean on in the Palace. You stood up, too, shaking his hand just as his servant excused himself. If your memory did not fail you, the Third Prince studied law outside of the Palace and had to attend university, unlike his brothers who had chosen to indulge in their promised wealth after graduating high school.

“Excuse me, Your Highness. I have matters to attend to, but my words still ring true – I am only a call away should you need me.”

“Thank you so much for your time, my Prince.”

“It was my pleasure. I will inform you right away of my mother’s availability.”

“Oh, and Princess,” piped up the servant from somewhere around the bushes, “Princess Maiko is looking for you. She is waiting for you in her drawing room.”

You should’ve expected that Princess Maiko would come looking for you. The whole ordeal she witnessed back at your rest house must have come as a shock for her. Sure, her marriage didn’t go so well, either, but at least Tooru hadn’t gone around sleeping with someone else. For a man who didn’t want to get married, he kept to his vow of loyalty to his wife. Still, you didn’t want this to be a competition on who had it worse – Maiko was simply worried, and you had to explain yourself for your untoward behavior on everyone’s getaway.

“Princess! Oh my gosh – how are you?! I was worried sick!”

“Princess,” you return her hug, smiling despite the fact the smaller Princess had a bone–crushing grip. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you, I am well.”

“Oh, Princess, you couldn’t be,” she pulled back with tears in her eyes. You almost apologized on the spot now that you remembered demanding to return to the City without informing the others why. Especially not Maiko, who seemed to be clueless. “I… I heard from Tooru about everything. The entire situation with Iris and the Crown Prince – truly, I did not know a single thing. If I had, I would have told you right away.”

“I know, and I’m thankful for your support.”

You squeeze her hand in reassurance, and the Princess leads you to sit on the couch. She slumps on it rather ungracefully, her innocent, wide eyes moist as she shakes her head.

“I had no idea Iris could do that. I just… the moment she arrived in the palace, she was so lovely, you know? She was always a little reserved, and liked to keep to herself, but I never would’ve guessed. I truly thought she was a good friend of mine, and now I have no idea who she really is.”

“Neither did I.”

“How are you, though? And please, tell me the truth. You do not need to pretend all is well.”

You shrug half-heartedly. “I am the Crown Prince’s wife. I must learn to be strong.”

“You mustn’t torture yourself any longer,” she licks her lips, chuckling without a trace of humor in it. “Although I do not blame you for staying in a marriage without love,” she smiled sadly, holding your hand firmer where it sat on her lap. “What do you plan to do?”

“I will divorce him,” you announced, and finally saying it loud felt different than just having the thought float in your head. It now felt like a reality. A choice you had to be firm in making. Licking your lips, you couldn’t help but glance at the beautiful wedding ring sitting on your finger – how just like your marriage, it is sparkling yet meaningless.

Leaving him would be the right choice. It would not mean you were weak.

“Once I meet with Kita’s mother and work our way around the law… I’m going to leave him. If it is a proper marriage he wants, then it is the one thing he will not get,” braving to look her in the eyes, you force a determined smile. “I believe it is the right thing to do, Your Highness. I must pick my battles wisely.”

“I understand, and I support you if this is what you want to do.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Although…”

“Although?”

“I still find it hard to believe,” she quipped, momentarily letting go of your hand as she stood up, pacing around the room. Her dark hair, neatly braided and adorned with headpieces, slowly started falling into curled pieces around her delicate face with how fast she’d been pacing. Almost as if her feet couldn’t quite keep up with her thoughts. “Iris and Kiyoomi had been married for five years, and Tooru told me they’d loved each other long before then. I am aware I am not the best at reading the room, but surely I am not so foolish to miss the love in their eyes. I would have known, Your Highness, I swear.”

You smile, confused. “I… am not sure I understand what you mean.”

“I mean Iris never looked in love,” she reiterated. “Granted, she was never affectionate with Kiyoomi, so that much is clear, but with the Crown Prince? They barely even speak to each other.”

“You couldn’t have known if they did spend time together,” you told her as softly as you could, “I heard they often hid in Belleview Manor, away from the eyes of the public.”

“But I live here,” she argued, and you stopped trying to butt in. For such a small thing, you had already learned once Maiko had her head set on something, almost nothing could stop her. “I live in Honor Hall, just five minutes away from them! I could have heard something. And on the few times I do see them together, Iris had always seemed… walled off. If Rintaro was able to display his affections openly, Iris was not the same. That night you weren’t at the house, they did not seem like a happy couple to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Maiko shook her head again, causing more curls to loosen. “They seemed familiar with each other, but not intimate. It was almost as if they were lovers purely in the bedroom, but they couldn’t have known each other’s heart,” her eyes lit up, before it dimmed again when she took in your somber expression. “I do not mean to give you false hope, Princess, but believe me. I know a man in love when I see one, and it is not the Crown Prince with Iris. But… but when you were not married yet, everyone could tell the Crown Prince smiled more. He laughed often, too, and he even spent more time with his brothers.”

“Well, that is only natural. He has a lot of siblings. Of course he would enjoy their company.”

“No, no, you do not understand, Princess. The Crown Prince… didn’t grow up that way,” she bit her lip, and then scooted next to you. “As the only son of the King and Queen, he was already more important than the rest. Because of that, he was raised differently – away and isolated from his brothers. He was always tutored alone, and never played with the other Princes. He spent his childhood locked up in his study, but then the Queen allowed him to attend regular school, and when he graduated… he met you. And I swear, he was different then.”

“Because he already met her,” you remarked, hoping she would stop already. Rintaro does not love you. “He’d become happier because Iris was already in his life.”

“I went to the same school with them; grew up with them. I had crushed on Prince Tooru for so long that I followed wherever he went, and where Tooru was, the Crown Prince would follow. They were born just months apart. And Iris never made the Crown Prince look… look…”

“Look what?”

“Look content,” she finally supplied. “But when the Crown Prince introduced you to us, he had this look on his face. When you spoke to others, he would always be looking at you, listening to your every word. Even when you were not in the same room, he would speak fondly of you. And he even once told me he still could not believe someone as precious as you had been attending the same lousy balls he’d been enduring all his life. He said that if he had met you earlier, he might have never skipped out attending the dances.”

“I don’t know,” your lips trembled, “I do not know what to do, Princess. Hearing of this does not make it any better.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but you must understand,” she squeezed your hand, desperation evident in her tone. “Your husband looks at you the way I wished mine would at me. He may say otherwise, but his eyes cannot lie. He softens when you are around, Princess. That night you did not return home at Greenville, the Crown Prince could not sleep at all. And these past few days…”

“I believe that is enough. I do not wish to hear how he spent his nights at Belleview.”

“He didn’t, Your Highness. The Crown Prince has never even spoken to Iris ever since we returned from your honeymoon.”

Rintaro could count the number of things pissing him off with one hand.

One: You had barely acknowledged his existence the past few days.

Two: Iris wouldn’t stop pulling him into dark, secluded corners in the Castle each time she chanced upon him. Two-point-five: She couldn’t understand he was not in the mood for another one of their trysts.

Three: Kiyoomi skipped another meeting concerning Itachiyama again.

Seriously, Rintaro understood being a Prince was tiresome work. It was not as grandiose as the tabloids made it out to be. Even in his sleep, he sometimes dreamt of paperwork, or he would wake up in the middle of the night with his hands signing off imaginary papers. The pressure was tougher on Kiyoomi, too, because he was expected to be ready to take after Wakatoshi at any time he even faltered – note: the First Prince never did – and to also act as representative for the other territory thanks to his birthright. But his brother was an hermit, and seemed to fear the sunlight, considering he never left his quarters. Or on the rare occasions he did, he would be hiding away in other countries doing who knows what.

He had just finished a meeting with some of the territory leaders regarding a public complaint that the price of goods had gone up, and some daily necessities were now ridiculously overpriced. One of the main suppliers of good livestock and coconuts, Itachiyama, made it even more expensive – not for any good reason, just that their leader loved to remind Inarizaki constantly that they needed him more than he needed the monarchy.

His goading affected his people, and Rintaro has had enough. Kiyoomi could at least try to pretend to be interested in the meetings. Out of all the nine princes, Kiyoomi was the most influential for being a half-blood. The Itachiyama president adored him. He wouldn’t have had to struggle negotiating for prices had he been doing his work. He was the damned mediator between the two countries, for goodness’ sake!

And to make it all worse, his life did not get any better outside the meeting rooms.

No, because his wife was intent on acting like he did not exist. And on the few times he did manage to be in the same space as you without you running off, you always looked through him. Like he wasn’t even a real person. As if he was just an apparition, a ghost in your mind that you could overlook if you tried hard enough.

He already knew you wouldn’t be in your quarters once he returned, but Rintaro still couldn’t help the pang of disappointment washing over him. He chose you to be his future Queen for many reasons, one of them being your wisdom in these kinds of things. You just needed a little encouragement to speak up, but Rintaro was confident you would make a great leader. You had genuine care for your people. You would have been able to help him make the best decisions for everybody – if you would just listen to him. Wasn’t that how marriages work? To share the burden of the Crown together? The Crown was too heavy for one person alone, which is why Kings cannot be crowned without their Queens.

Rintaro couldn’t do it alone. Each day was becoming more challenging for him, and he so desperately wished he could discuss the country’s future with you. He would feel more confident in his choices. He would be more reassured that he was doing the right thing, but it seemed that all he knew how to do lately was fuck everything up.

On his way back, Rintaro stopped trying to look regal. He let his shoulders slump and ran his fingers through his hair again. The gel be damned. Loosening his tie, he rolled his shoulders back and winced at how stiff his back was. Sitting on his ass all day long, having to listen to old men argue back and forth over money, and simultaneously having to deal with a marriage he’d already screwed over – Rintaro just wanted to disappear.

He wanted to return to Greenville.

It was peaceful there. People minded their own business, everyone had their own purpose and reason for waking up each day and there, he could just be himself. Not the Crown Prince, not a young man who had to hurt you for the sake of the throne. He could just… be free.

“Your Highness,” a servant bowed in front of him, keeping a respectful distance but enough to let him know he needed his attention.

“Good evening,” he greeted back, “Have you seen my wife?”

“Her Highness was with Princess Maiko this morning. Last I heard, she has not left the Palace, at all.”

“I see,” Rintaro was already moving towards Honor Hall before his feet could register it. It was a good twenty minute walk, and the chances of running into Iris weren’t miniscule, but it would be worth it. He could use some fresh air, anyway. And he figured with Maiko around, you would be less opposed to spending the evening with him – until he realized Maiko must have known everything, too. How he manipulated you, and left you in the middle of nowhere.

On second thought, having two Princesses who clearly did not welcome him would not make for a great night.

“My Prince!”

Rintaro stopped on his tracks. He had a split second to school his expression to surprise – the good kind – when he came face to face with the last woman he wanted to see.

“Mother,” he greeted, taking her gloved hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles whilst she fanned herself. “I wasn’t informed you would be visiting.”

She waved her fan around. “Oh, I had to nearly knock down the guards when they wouldn’t let me in, but I had to see my daughter. I heard from the news that you came home too early. Well, what is wrong? Is she sick? Does she not like the countryside? Or perhaps there was an emergency you had to attend to?” fanning herself harder, Rintaro’s hand wound at the small of her back to guide the older woman into a nearby seat. “She hasn’t answered any of my calls, and I am worried, my son.”

“Your concern for her will put her at ease, I’m certain,” he reassured, swallowing the uncomfortable lump growing in his throat. “This is just… a difficult time for us, Mother. I fear Her Highness is having doubts about our marriage once she saw how overwhelming the Crown could be. She simply wished to return home because she felt there were things to be done here.”

Your mother sighed and shook her head. “My poor daughter. She always felt the need to prove her worth by working herself to death,” spinning to face him, she pointed her fan in his direction – which would be considered a threat to the Crown Prince, but she was his mother–in–law. Her presence itself was a threat to his life. “Promise me you won’t let her exhaust herself, son. Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

“She is in good hands, Mother, I promise you this.”

Pleased with him, your mother beamed. “I was also… Well, I may be crossing the line, but now that you tell me my poor daughter is anxious about her royal duties, I was planning to hold a ball in her honor. A welcoming ball for the new Princess, of sorts. It should help her integrate into your world better, but still with the comfort of our support.”

“A ball sounds lovely. We can hold it anytime as we are still in our honeymoon period and she will be free for quite some time.”

“That is perfect! I will make the arrangements, then.”

Wearing his best Prince Charming smile, even if he was anything but, Rintaro found himself mindlessly agreeing to everything your mother wanted. He would have to squeeze all these events in his already hectic schedule, but he was not complaining. She was right. You deserved to relax and enjoy yourself. He should know best that having royal titles did not promise a life of gallivanting and endless tea parties. Once your mother had exhausted herself from all the planning, Rintaro escorted her out to the palace entrance, stopping only when your figure appeared from the corner.

Finally, you were looking at him.

But with a glare.

Well, he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“You are a far better actor than I give you credit for – lying to my mother like that.”

“I did not mean to.”

You rolled your eyes, and Rintaro bit his lip. Cute, he thought, but he would never say it out loud. He would simply enjoy the fact you did not push him away, or walk away as if you were scalded when he started walking next to you. For a moment, everything almost seemed normal. Minus the extreme glaring, of course.

“Surely. It’s not like telling her you manipulated me for the past two years was on your to-do list.”

“Do not use that tone on me.”

“I will speak with you however I wish. You do not get to tell me what to do.”

“You are right; I cannot tell you what to do, so do as you please, then,” he surrendered, and you must be surprised by how he easily gave in from the way you froze. Glaring harder, Rintaro bit his cheek, tilting his head to the side as he gazed upon your pretty face. And oh, how badly he wanted to smooth that frown you’re wearing. “I missed you. I have not seen you all day long.”

“Must have been a lovely day for you, then.”

It was hell, actually, was what he wanted to say, but even that did not seem enough to articulate what he truly felt. I missed you, and I’m sorry I hurt you. Please sleep on the same bed with me again. I want to hold you all night long, and your scent calms me. But instead, all that comes out of his mouth was, “It was not lovely at all.”

“Hmm. I’m not Iris.”

“No, you aren’t.”

He agreed wholeheartedly – you were not his lover. Iris would not argue with him like this; in fact, they never argued at all. Whenever they had misunderstandings, they resolved it by taking out their frustrations on the bedroom, and the next day, all would be forgiven and forgotten. It was easier with Iris, in some ways, because with you he actually had to use his words, and he had to say the right ones. Both of which he wasn’t good at, but would try his very best anyway.

“I heard you spent the day with Maiko. How was it? Did you two have fun?”

“As fun as two women suffering at the hands of men who despise them could have.”

Rintaro took a larger step to stand in front of you, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I do not despise you.”

“Really? You made me feel otherwise.”

Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair again, feeling much more exhausted than he did after the meetings ended. “You do not have to make this so difficult, you know. I am trying to fix this.”

The laugh you let out is sardonic, teetering on the edges of borderline angry. But he would take it – because arguments with you were better than having you ignore him, and he would take a thousand more arguments if it meant you talked. He would consume your wrath over your coldness every other day. Even when you cross your arms and look at him like he was the most vile creature to ever walk the Earth – because your eyes are on him, and in that moment, in the middle of another of a hundred hallways in his Palace, there was no one else but you and him. A husband and his wife. A Prince and his Princess.

“Oh, are you now? Because last time I checked, you were still in love with someone else, and I’m still nothing but a pawn in your silly game.”

“I may be in love with someone else, but it was you who I couldn’t get off my mind.”

“Is that supposed to make my heart flutter?”

You reel back as if burnt, and Rintarou couldn’t fathom why your expression hurt him so much. As if his declaration, his vulnerability, of being putty in your hands repulsed you instead of excited you. However, he refused to show he hung desperately to your every word, refused to admit that you held all the power in your hands, not him. So, he plays it off, and flirtingly lifts a brow just to get you even more riled up.

“I was hoping it would.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, Rintaro, you won’t win.”

His eyes darkened. Suddenly, all self-restraint he previously had had been thrown out the window. The urge to press his lips to you – yes, those same lips scowling at him – becomes all too consuming. He fools himself into taking the heat in your eyes as desire instead of anger. And he takes one step forward, two, then three, until your back hits the wall and his large frame prevents you from escaping. He liked you best here, he realized, under his mercy and staring up at him with your soft lips, pliant and open to release a gasp when he leans in. Closer, closer, only for his lips to meet the skin of your cheek.

Rintaro stifled a disappointed groan.

Masking it with a chuckle, he trailed his lips down your cheek and to your jawline, all the way until he’s inhaling your intoxicating scent – he wants your damned perfume to stick to his skin for days to come so everyone in the Palace knows he is yours. And like a flower, you bloom only to him. Craning your neck and pushing your chest upwards to his despite your resistance, breathing hard and heavy to let him know he wasn’t the only one affected by this.

And by the Gods, he wanted nothing more than to take you in this wall right here and then.

Brushing his lips just above your pulse point, Rintaro smiled. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, and he was certain his was, too, when you began to crumple his shirt in your hands. “I never knew my name could sound so important without the titles attached to it.”

“Wh–what?” your query came out breathily. Not that he could blame you, for his words have also begun to sound more like a whisper.

“Rintaro,” he echoed, nosing your neck to greedily take in more of your scent. If not on his skin, then he will settle for the evidence of you all over his clothes – and damned the servants who dared wash his dress shirt. “Not Prince, not Your Highness. Just Rintaro. It makes me feel like… it is just you and I, husband and wife, as simple as that,” you draw in another gasp just as his fingers start ghosting over your waist, fighting the urge to pin you in place, or to just hold you delicately because he knew he’d broken you enough. Rintaro felt weak, his head dropping in the column of your shoulder. “I truly did miss you. And I do not like how I spent many nights, in our bed, alone.”

“You do not deserve to share a bed with me.”

“I know,” he lamented, and that firm resolve of keeping him at a distance was enough to wake him up. Pushing himself off of you, Rintaro took a solid minute to admire you like this – lips parted, expectant for a kiss, and skin flushed with a thin layer of sweat, with eyes so bewildered he could see himself clearly in the reflection – that he was just a man now, and not really the husband you wanted him to be. Once he had his fill, Rintaro smoothed down the wrinkles you fisted in his shirt and took a step back. “But you do not deserve to sleep in just a couch. Take the bed tonight. I will sleep outside.”

“But that’s–”

“I’m the one who fucked up,” he smirked, sarcasm dripping from his face, “So I should be the one sleeping uncomfortably. I know I cannot tell you what to do, and neither do I plan on ordering you around, but this is the one thing you cannot argue with me on. You will take the bed. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Back to titles. Back to formality. Back to reality.

“Good girl,” he murmured absentmindedly, nodding in the direction of your bedroom. “Let us head back to our quarters. I’m buying you a new dress for the ball first thing in the morning.”

To say Rintaro had changed would be an understatement.

He was a completely different person than your husband in the honeymoon. It was as if… last night’s intimate encounter had brought him back to the Rintaro you fell in love with, but this time it felt different. He felt more intense. Maybe it was the fact that his secrets were now laid out in the open, which could mean his attentive actions toward you no longer held the purpose of winning you over. Maybe now he truly just wanted to spend time with you because he could.

Cancelling his plans for the day, he’d told the servants you were going out shopping, and oh, what a cunning, devilish Prince he is. He knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of him out in public. With so many eyes watching, you spent nearly every second of the day with your arms looped around his, laughing and smiling at every word he said, and not daring to keep your eyes off him lest someone took a photographed and headlined it ‘Newly Married Royal Couple Having Their First Lovers’ Spat In Public.’ No. No, that would be catastrophic. The Queen would be furious.

Here, in public, you were forced to act sweet and touchy with him, to which the stupid Crown Prince basked in as he led you from boutique to boutique. He complimented you on everything, even when you wore a hideous bright orange gown that made even the designer flinch. But in Rintaro’s eyes, you were simply mesmerizing. He even got a suit that matched all of your dresses, claiming that everyone should know he was married to you. Everyone already knew that – the whole world knew – but you didn’t want to burst his bubble.

Aside from having a day off, your husband genuinely did seem to be doing things other than paperwork.

You stopped being kind once you entered the car, however, when the windows had rolled up and you had both stopped waving to the people. Here, it was just the driver and the both of you, and the driver knew better than to comment on whatever happened, anyway. Sighing, you scooted to the other end of the seat, prying yourself off of Rintaro’s tight grip around your waist.

“Drop the act.”

“What act?”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, taking off your gloves and folding them neatly in your lap. “We are in the privacy of our car. You needn’t pretend any longer.”

“Who said I was pretending?”

You looked at him dead in the eye. “You are not fooling anyone. This was all a PR act – you did not actually mean whatever it is you said to me out there, but worry not. I’ll get out of your hair and divorce you – surely that will make everything easier.”

The way Rintaro’s eyes nearly popped out of his head would be comical if he didn’t look so scared. In a flash, your husband crossed the distance and sat next to you, his hurried movements causing his bangs to fall into his eyes. His large hands began to engulf yours, and you suck in a breath – without the gloves, it felt more intimate. “What divorce?” he chuckled nervously, brushing his lips over your bare knuckles. It was the faintest of touches, only done to appease you, but it still didn’t stop the bolt of heat coursing through your thighs. Gods, it was just so hard trying to stay mad at him.

“You know that’s impossible. Royal marriages are forever. Look, if you truly wish to divorce me, fine. But you know you will have to help me become King first. Once I am crowned, I can write a new law that says royal couples can be separated.”

“You are despicable.”

“I am,” he whined. Whined! Seriously, who was this man? “But I promise you, if you help me, I will let you go. Look, I’ll even find a high–ranking nobleman for you. The best of the best. You wouldn’t have to be lonely anymore. Just… don’t ever mention divorce to me right now. I won’t let you.”

Scoffing, you pull your hands back from his heavenly lips. “You seriously think after everything, loneliness is somehow my biggest issue?” Rintaro opened his mouth to retort, but you shook your head, making yourself small between him and the window seat. You hated it, how helpless you felt, from wanting his touch to being burnt by it. You hated it even more how you couldn’t look him in the eye as you mumbled, “Have you ever thought that maybe I just want to forget you?”

“I do not want you to,” he breathed out, and your eyes snapped shut when you felt his fingers brush over your cheeks. “But I am not so selfish to deprive you of a good thing. You will find someone who can love you better than I could.”

Your heart fell.

“Well, that would be easy. You never loved me to begin with.”

The Crown Prince never spoke again. You both mulled over your silences as you arrived back at the Palace, heading into the bathroom to do your nightly routines. Rintaro was to your left, taking out his razor blade and shaving foam while you stood to his right, lathering on your cleanser and toner. Thankfully, the silence did not feel as heavy as it did on the ride back home, but it was still far from being comfortable. It was only after you’d moisturized and turned to leave the room that Rintaro caught your wrist, glancing down at you with a pleading expression.

“Please. Can we stop fighting? I thought today was fun. Let us not end it hating each other.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, if I ruined your precious day,” you snapped, leaning back to examine how he missed a spot below his jaw. A slight stubble was visible, but you had to stop your hand from reaching out to him. You sighed. “All this space in the Palace and they couldn’t give us separate bathrooms?”

“Traditionally, royal married couples slept in separate rooms. Everything was separate, too, including bathrooms,” he gestured around you, “Perhaps you would’ve liked the old ways.”

Screw it. The small talk is the most awkward thing you have ever experienced.

“…You missed a spot,” you finally mumbled, taking his razor from him and gesturing for him to crouch down so you can reach. “Do you want me to finish it?”

Rintaro, despite his surprise, nodded and obeyed. It must have been uncomfortable for him to slouch, but he did so without complaints. He let you shave him as you saw fit, turning his head side to side, lathering on more foam, and you watched as his shoulders visibly deflated. Eyes fluttering close, Rintaro sighed, the tips of his fingers gingerly tracing circles as they laid beside your hips.

“You will take the bed as discussed,” he reminded, “You will not argue with me on this.”

“Okay,” you answered, because you, too, had no energy for more arguments. Once you were done with him, you wiped off the rest of the foam with a warm, wet towel. You both left the bathroom and went your separate ways – you to your king–sized bed, and him just outside the bedroom and into the lounge room, where you spent the past few nights sleeping. You realized he must not be sleeping well from it because of his large frame, yet Rintaro did not seem to mind.

Just as he was about to close the door, he lingered for a few beats.

“Thank you for going along the happily married couple act today,” he said, lifting his gaze from the carpeted floors to gaze into your eyes. “And for the record, I meant it when I said you looked beautiful.”

Then he turned, and swiftly closed the door, leaving you to be with your thoughts – all filled of him.

It didn’t help that the sheets and pillows still lingered with his scent.

You had your upcoming ball to thank for distracting you from your confusing feelings for your husband. That in itself was such a ridiculous statement, but one that ringed true. After Rintaro’s surprising gentleness, and the revelation from Maiko that he hadn’t spoken at all with Iris, you were now in a dangerous zone called Getting Your Hopes Up. Truly, you should know better. You had known Rintaro for years to know he could be effortlessly charming. He could have you wrapped tight around his finger, smiling like a lovesick fool, only for him to break your heart once more.

If not for that cold, hard truth, you would have invited him to bed with you that night. It seemed too tempting. It felt like the right thing to do. But you didn’t, and you were glad you held back on your desire, because you weren’t sure you could handle another heartbreak.

Especially because these past few days made you realize one thing – that you were still in love with him. The next morning, you found yourself wishing you had woken up next to him, and that was enough to make you avoid your husband all over again. And much to your disappointment, Rintaro stopped trying to chase after you, too, after countless rejections on your part. He had kept his distance, and only spoke with you momentarily when you arrived at your mother’s ball and had to exchange niceties with everyone.

After that, your husband excused himself and spoke with his brothers, but not after your parents couldn’t stop cooing at how adorable you and the Crown Prince were. He handled it with grace; kissing your cheek and thanking them for raising such a wonderful daughter. But the moment your parents became occupied with welcoming other guests, you were now left to entertain the other women in the ball.

Until the music began playing.

Until your song reverberated all across the room.

“This is the song you and the Crown Prince danced to the night you met,” your mother whispered beside you, giggling in your ear. “I requested it specifically for this night. Enjoy the dance with your husband. He’s already waiting.”

True to her word, you could feel Rintaro’s heated gaze on you from across the room. He’d stopped speaking with his brothers – the twins smirking beside him, Akaashi smiling at you softly, Tobio waving enthusiastically while nursing a glass of wine, and Kita firmly hovering from the walls with a concerned frown. Not that you paid attention to them. Your gaze was held by your husband and him only, bewitched as he started walking forward. The crowed parted for him like a true Prince until nothing stood in his way. Everyone smiled, giggling behind their gloves at the apparent ‘romance in the air.’ Beside you, your mother pushed you encouragingly, and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, waiting to see if you would take the Crown Prince’s outstretched hands.

“My love,” he whispered above your gloved hands, and your heart skipped a beat. He didn’t call you Princess, or Your Highness. You knew it was for the sake of keeping appearances, but by the Gods, you loved him. You were so hopelessly in love with your husband that you placed your heart in his hands once more, silently pleading with him not to break it as he led you in the middle of the dance floor. “May I have this dance?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, your hand resting on his shoulder as naturally as his arms came to your waist. The exact same movements from the night you first met, with the same song, but with your love for him stronger tonight than it did when you first laid your eyes on him.

This time, you danced as man and wife, and you recalled his words from the other day.

How there were moments it seemed so simple – where there were no titles, just you and him, having this dance like it was the most natural, inexplicable thing in this world.

The chord struck. The crowd parted. He took the first step in the dance, and you took a step back. Not once did you tear your gaze away from him, happily drowning in the depths of his hazel eyes you could look at forever. And isn’t that what you’d always wanted? To spend a lifetime with him, to grow old together. It would have been so easy if it weren’t for –

“Don’t think about anything else,” your husband shook his head lightly, “Just enjoy this moment. Tonight, there is only you and I.”

“Okay,” you found yourself nodding, and his grip on your waist tightened for a second. “Just you and I.”

Rintaro’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles. “Just you and I.”

You and him in those moments – you felt immortal. Like nothing could stand in your way. Or perhaps you could die tonight, and you would die happy. Because you were in your husband’s arms, and he was looking at you and only you, murmuring how you were becoming more and more beautiful with each passing day. You were melting in his arms, like goo. Like pudding. And he was strong enough to catch you, to brush his nose against yours at each dip, or letting his lips linger on your forehead each time you came back to him with each spin.

But happy moments never lasted long enough, and soon the rotations were beginning. More couples have joined the dance floor. Through one spin, you caught sight of Tooru and Maiko. Neither of them looked happy, but Tooru visibly brightened when he caught your eye, and shamelessly winked. On the other side of the room danced Iris and Kiyoomi, with the latter looking so nauseous you worried dinner would be spilled on your mother’s floor. And then too soon, Rintaro’s hands were leaving yours as he moved to the nearest dance partner, and you were caught by a pair of strong, muscled arms.

“My turn,” Tooru teased, a grin now on his handsome face as he nudged his head in Rintaro’s direction. He was now dancing with your mother, and you could tell, even from this distance, the smile he wore was genuine. “Should I beat him up?”

You chuckled, throwing your head back. Despite his jokes and jabs, Prince Tooru was a surprisingly great dancer – less stiff than Rintaro, and more confident in his receiving when you spun and dipped. But dancing with him did not feel the same. There was no passion, no yearning, no longing – just the lighthearted air of good humor and his calming nature.

“I don’t think beating the Crown Prince up would be a very wise decision.”

“Indeed, but I was never the Prince known for making wise decisions. That would be more Shinsuke’s forte,” he snorted, and the song reached a part for another rotation. However, Tooru refused to let you go and intentionally spun you away from what was supposed to be your next dance partner. Out of shock, you slapped his chest, and his broad chest rumbled with laughter.

“Your Highness! That was unbelievably rude!”

“As I have said,” you both laughed when he spun you again, “I am not the Prince known to be socially adept.”

You bent over in giggles, your head resting on his chest as you danced more throughout the night. Your feet were getting tired, but your mother was right – this was a night to enjoy. You danced to your heart’s content, exchanging jokes with the handsome Fifth Prince until you craned your neck to the side, only to be stopped by Prince Tooru’s large hand. This time, he no longer smiled as he gazed upon the dancing partners behind you, and your skin turned cold.

You had a feeling you knew exactly why.

“Don’t look. You won’t like what you’ll see.”

Nodding, you pursed your lips and forced a smile at him. “It’s okay, Princess,” he comforted, “Just look at me. You need not concern yourself with others.”

So you danced, and danced, until you could hear your father pleading with the Fifth Prince to give his daughter back because he didn’t get a chance to have a dance with you yet. Reluctantly, Tooru handed you over to your father, but not without a faux frown.

“That was a lovely dance, Your Highness. I wish we could’ve danced more.”

“I think we danced enough.”

Tooru’s smile was guarded; secretive. “I’m afraid it was not enough.”

You danced with your father next. And it was lovely, seeing him up close with all his smile lines and wrinkles. You missed him so, dearly, and he felt the same way. It hurt having to lie to him when he asked how you were settling in the Palace, but you didn’t want to concern him with your personal matters, and for some reason, it didn’t sit well with you if your father disliked Rintaro. So you swallowed your discomfort down and told him everything was great – silently wishing he wouldn’t pry further. He didn’t. And when the song slowed, your father kissed you on the cheek before letting you meet with your next dancing partner.

Stood in front of you was a great wall of what could only be described as majestic. Dressed in white with gold ornaments, Prince Kiyoomi’s curls framed his handsome face beautifully. You had been so accustomed seeing him in more comfortable clothing, and in the privacy of his own home, that seeing him out here in society, it reminded you that he, too, was a Prince.

The Second Prince – the would have been next King should Ushijima and Rintaro falter.

“My Prince.”

“Princess,” he bowed, taking your hand in his as you made your way back to the dance floor. The music played again, this time louder, and the Prince leaned down until his lips were brushing against the shell of your ear. You repressed a gasp, unable to help yourself from digging your nails into his palm when you were greeted by how good he smelled – like mint, new leather, and pine. It also dawned on you how tall and firm the Prince was – perhaps taller and more muscular than Rintaro.

“Y–Yes, Your Highness?”

“Remind me to thank your mother for extending her invites to the forgotten Prince. Imagine my shock when I saw her invitation letter this morning.”

You chuckled nervously, thankful that he had now slightly tilted his head back. “I hardly doubt you are a forgotten prince.”

He snorted, effortlessly spinning you with one hand. “It’s not like I do my duties to begin with. I wouldn’t be surprised if I truly was forgotten,” distracted by his scent, you unknowingly stepped on the hem of your dress and slipped backwards. A scream nearly tore out your throat when the Prince’s large hands cupped the small of your back, your chest pressed to his and his curls brushing against your cheeks as he held you close. “Careful.”

“Th–thank you.”

You were a mess after that. You were never the best dancer, but something about being in the older Prince’s presence made you extra nervous. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He simply danced with grace, and hid his grimace well each time you stepped on his toes. He had also convinced you to stop apologizing every time you did, and by the time the dance was over, you were more than ready to disappear.

“Thank you for the dance, my Prince,” you bowed, words hurried, “I shall see you–”

“Kiyoomi!” a woman appeared out of nowhere, her thick, dark curls pinned up beautifully with some loose strands swaying in time with her hips. She had the same moles as Kiyoomi, and you watched, entranced, as the older woman wrapped her arm casually around the prince. The two shared a silent conversation with their eyes before Kiyoomi glanced at you, and the woman followed his line of sight. “Oh! Your Highness. Greetings. I don’t believe I have introduced myself before – I’m Kanami; Kiyoomi’s mother.”

You smiled at her, politely taking her hand as she extracted herself from her son’s arms and taken to draping herself all over you. Discomfort must be written all over your face, because the Second Prince sent an apologetic smile your way.

“It is an honor to meet you, Miss Kanami. Are you enjoying the night so far? The travel all the way from Itachiyama must have been exhausting.”

“Oh, it was, but it’s all worth it now that we’ve met again!” she squealed, and you paled.

“We have met before?”

Just as she nodded and went about to retelling this so–called meeting, Iris popped up behind Kiyoomi, her smile stiff as she regarded Kanami. Instantly, your mood soured. She hadn’t spoken to you at all tonight, which you were thankful, but something about the thought of her dancing with your husband, and probably being suggestive while at it had your blood boiling.

“Mother! Such a shock seeing you here. I wasn’t aware you were invited.”

Kanami barely glanced her way, her dark, curious eyes still on your face.

“Hello, Iris, and it’s Miss Sakusa, dear,” she corrected, her enthusiastic smile momentarily fading into a scowl before it returned. “Say, Your Highness, since you’re still on your honeymoon period – and I’ve heard your dear husband is too busy these days – would you want to come visit Itachiyama with me? I would be honored to be your host. It will also be a great opportunity to learn more about your Princess duties and politics!” leaning closer, she whispered behind her gloves, although her words were loud enough to be heard by Prince Tooru and Iris. “Although if I will be honest, politics does not interest me in the least bit.”

Your mouth fell open and closed, unsure of what to say, until you settled on chuckling and patting her hand wrapped around your arm. “I… Thank you for invitation, Kanami. I am most tempted to see your beautiful country, but Princess Iris should be the one visiting her territory, should she not?”

Kanami scrunched her nose.“The Princess never grew up in Itachiyama. She would be just as clueless as you. Besides, I have always wanted to invite you over ever since you had Kiyoomi as your last dance on your eighteenth birthday!”

“He… was?”

“He was! Don’t you remember, dear?” she turned to Kiyoomi, who looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him already. But judging by his reaction, it seemed true – Kiyoomi was your last dance on your debut ball. “Well, in that case, I was always fond of you. I may be crossing the line here, but it was always a famous royal saying that whoever was your last dance on your debutante ball was your destined lover.”

#suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou angst #suna x yn #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou x reader #rintaro suna x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #kiyoomi sakusa x you #suna x you #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #suna rintarō x reader #suna rintarō x you #series: dusk till dawn

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