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sukirichi · 5 months ago

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 013 ]

“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.”

cw. modern royal au. infidelity. slight angst. toxic characters & toxic relationships. 18+. smut (nothing explicit.) unedited. suggestive. fluff. alcohol consumption.

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3 ALSO!! i am very bad at describing places (i tried my best) but just so you guys can visualize things better, i included photos of where this chapter took place at the end of the fic

wc. 12.1k

series masterlist

[ THIRTEEN ] it hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you. i’ve done the math, there’s no solution. we’ll never last – why can’t i let go of this?

“Rin,” you stopped his hands from going any further, your fingers closed around his. He paid you no mind as he merely flicks your hands away. The top three buttons of your blouse have already been popped open, the white lace of your bra visible to his eyes. They visibly darkened with lust. Grasping his hand again, you held him tighter this time around, preventing him from exposing you to him. “Rin, please. Stop.”

Rintaro finally stopped. His fingers froze in the air, his thumb caressing the button like he’s fighting back an itch to completely rip your blouse apart. Maybe on another day, you would’ve found his hunger to be flattering. But not here, not in the middle of nowhere, and definitely not when he smelled like smoke. Not when he smelled like all the horrible things he’d gotten from her.

Cocking his brow, he leant back at the hood of his car. He stared up at you, his pretty eyes narrowed into slits.

“What? You don’t want me to touch you?”

You vehemently shook your head no. You awaited it – some sort of angry response from him. It wasn’t often you rejected his advances, but it was written crystal clear on your face: he made you uncomfortable. He found it sickening, how you looked at him like he was some vermin.

“Fine,” he spat out, rounding the vehicle as he opens his door. “Get in the car.”

“But… I can’t just leave–”

“I’ll have someone take care of it. Get. In. The. Car.”

You glance back at your car. Kuroo’s cellphone was still inside, along with your gun engraved with your family crest. If anyone were to peek inside, it wouldn’t be far to assume that you were out to kill someone. Not to mention, it was your private vehicle, not the Palace’s issued ones. Quickly, you raise a finger to Rintaro and ask him to wait, running back to your car before slipping the phone inside your pockets. In less than a minute, you’d opened the passenger’s seat and buckled the seatbelt.

The silence was painful.

There’s nothing but the smooth hum of the car’s engine, the rhythmic tapping of Rintaro’s hand against the wheel. He didn’t bother turning the radio on, and you were too lost staring at the trees whizzing by to strike up a conversation. There were too many things to ask, too many answers that demanded your attention, and so little time for it all. You wanted him to break the silence first, until sleep beat you to it. With the clock reading half an hour past four, you found yourself nodding off, shaken awake by the constant road bumps ahead.

Six am.

You straightened your back. The scenery had shifted from the dense forestry. Beside you, Rintaro looked half-awake, cracking his neck from side to side.

You watched as the gentle fingers of dawn painted the sky in hues of rose and gold. With the car travelling along the coastal road, you glanced sideways, captivated by the mesmerizing vista unfolding before your eyes. You’d seen the sea before, but never at this time – never when the sun was beginning to stretch its arms as if to embrace it. The sea, that of liquid sapphire, shimmered under the first light of day, each tiny, soft wave crested with a translucent luminescence – something both haunting and mysterious that made it hard to look away. It was deep and bewitching, like it would whisper to you the secrets of the deep if you looked close enough.

Rolling the windows down, you gazed at the horizon – right where the ocean kissed the sky, and birthed with it the symphony of color. Pastels of pink and lavender blended into a cerulean blue. The sun, a radiant gem emerging from its slumber, cast a golden path across the water and shimmered across the ripples, inviting the soul to wander its glittering trail. You felt the need to reach out to it – to skirt your fingers across the horizon, wondering if somehow the sea could drown you in its beauty and your pain could be forgotten.

As the car cruised along, your eyes remained transfixed on the sea. Drawn to its endless, vast rhythmic dance of a push and pull. The waves rolled in a timeless cadence, their gentle roar a comforting lullaby. Each surge and retreat of the water mirrored your own steady breaths – in and out – a silent meditation that made you feel as if everything was almost okay.

Through the open window, the scent of salt and the crispness of morning air filtered through. It filled the car with the essence of the sea, masking the scent of Rintaro’s stumped cigarette. For a moment, you were filled with a profound sense of peace. A moment of stillness amid the journey. The sea, with its infinite expanse and eternal ebb, seemed to hold all the answers. It wasn’t like Itachiyama whose beauty brought calmness to your soul and silenced all your fears. It was entirely a beauty of itself, one that haunted you and prodded at your bones, picking your soul apart and gently sewing back them together.

Like an unstoppable force, like watching a car crash into another – it was hard to take your eyes off of it.

“Where are you taking me?” you broke the silence after a while, choosing to keep the windows rolled down. Beside you, Rintaro spared you a quick glance before turning his eyes back to the road.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

Nodding, you propped your chin onto your arm. Now that you were awake, the events from the past few hours finally caught up to you. The meeting with Kuroo, Atsumu’s sex tape, being chased by Rintaro, and your call not reaching Kiyoomi – Kiyoomi. Gods. He must be so worried. But your phone’s battery died long ago, and there was a bigger matter at hand – Rintaro’s accusation, and the way he’d hid his hurt with a smirk.

It was a side of him you’d never seen before.

Sure, he’d been angry when you did anything that concerned Iris, or when you left for Itachiyama after his displeasure about it. But this time, he looked more hurt than angry, as if he couldn’t believe you would go so far.

You rolled the windows up. The sounds of the humming of the car and the breeze slipping through muted.

“Rin,” you mumbled, toying with your fingers in your lap. “I didn’t try to kill you, you know.”

Your husband snorted. “Oh, you didn’t? Could’ve fooled me. It’s not every day you see your wife’s new maid slipping something in my drink, but if you truly did not have anything to do with it, then I guess it’s safe to assume your maid is out to assassinate me,” grip tightening on the wheel, he forced himself to exhale through his nose. “Do you deny this?”

“Airi has nothing to do with this.”

“Do enlighten me, then, because I don’t know what to think of you anymore,” he gritted his teeth, and you were shocked into silence. It was quite the confession coming from him. “I have made mistakes. Many of them. I have hurt you, again and again, but do you really wish to end my life?” he shot you a look, only to turn his head away – staring out into the sea before you. You wondered if it’s because he couldn’t stand to look at you, or he didn’t want you to see whatever might show in his face.

“I didn’t think you could be so cruel, Princess.”

Your face fell, the light in your eyes dimming as his words sunk in. “I told her to crush some sleeping pills in your tea so I could sneak out without you noticing. I wasn’t trying to ‘kill’ you.”

“And where would you go without me? A lady like you should never leave the castle premises unsupervised,” he reminded, the edges of his lips curling into a dissatisfied smile. “Unless you don’t want me knowing who it is you’re meeting.”

Sighing, you let your head drop to your hands. “Enough with the accusations, Rin. How many times do I have to tell you I have never cheated on you?” you rolled your eyes at him, your arms crossed to your chest, irked. “If you really must know, I met up with Kuroo Tetsurou – yes, the man who wrote that article about your tryst and ruined your reputation. You know what I did? I paid him to disappear from this country, and to completely erase any traces of what he’d written. I did it for you. I did it because I no longer want to see you suffering from the hands of another, so don’t you dare go around treating me like I’m your enemy, because at the end of it all, I’m the only one on your side. Do you understand?”

It was a half lie, but a white lie in your defense. The end would justify the means. Rintaro didn’t have to know the whole truth, not when there was a chance he’d ruin your plans. He only needed to let his guard down, to completely trust you on this because that last part you would not lie about.

He could hurt you – take your heart and crush it until there was nothing left. But it would not change the fact that you were his wife, and he your husband. It wouldn’t change the fact you were bound by vows you’d spoken in front of Her Majesty, in front of the Gods they worshipped in a sacred chapel. You would never, and could never, go as far as to make Rintaro detestable in the eyes of others. He was yours to hate and love. No one else could take that right away from you. He simply wasn’t for the world to pick apart.

Silence clouds the car. With a quick glance, you saw his grip loosening on the steering wheel, his shoulders visibly relaxing as his brows pinched together. “You did that… for me?”

You scoffed. “You have no idea the things I would do for you.”

“Then why keep it a secret from me? I would’ve gone with you. I could’ve sorted it out myself.”

“You couldn’t. You’ve barely been touching any of your work ever since the scandal happened,” you pointed out, holding your hand up to flash him your ring – the one you never dared took off, not even in the shower, and especially not when Kiyoomi had been nudging his way into your heart. “I’m your wife. I promised to share the burden of the crown with you. If a time comes that you’re unable to handle the troubles coming your way, then I will step in and do it for you.”

Rintaro blinked rapidly, as if clearing away the images that troubled him. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, “I’m just… You said you hated me, and that you regretted marrying me. So when I saw Airi mess with my tea, I immediately thought you wanted me out of your life.”

You looked out the window. Pursing your lips, you couldn’t help but think to yourself – if only it were that easy.

“You’re my husband. I would be devastated if you died.”

Rintaro drove around for a few more minutes before finally arriving in a gated community. Although community was a stretch, considering there were no other houses around. Not a single person could be seen. The entire beach was closed off from that point on. He wouldn’t answer any of your questions either, simply smiling to himself as he drove past a grove of trees until you broke through – the sounds of the waves audible and muted, as if they were from a distance. Before you stood a large white mansion, hidden by the tall trees, but peeking just enough to be highlighted by the golden dawn.

“We’re here,” Rintaro announced, bouncing out of his seat to run around your side and open the door for you. You couldn’t help but snicker at his sudden chivalry. Nevertheless, you slipped your hand into his, following him as he led you to the pebbled walkway leading up into the house. “I bought this beach for us.”

“Rin, you can’t do that. The beaches should be open to the public.”

Rintaro squeezed your hand. There was a lightness to his step, almost as if he was floating through air – or maybe your reassurance had simply made his body feel lighter. “Indulge me a little, wife. Let me show you around first, and if you really don’t like it… then I’ll put it up for sale, okay?”

You couldn’t argue with that. It was hard to, anyway, when he struggled to open the doors as he refused to let go of your hand. After fumbling for the keys, he finally got them in and pushed the doors open.

You could see much from where you stood. At the break of dawn, the sun’s first golden rays began to dance across the tranquil surface of the sea, casting a gentle, shimmering glow that greeted the grand beach house with a tender embrace.

The luxurious abode, with its elegant arches and expensive terraces, stood proudly against the backdrop of the awakening sky. Its hues of pink and orange melded seamlessly into the lingering blue of the night. Your eyes widened, watching as the colors bounced off the water and reflected back onto the sturdy white pillars of the house’s exterior. The soft, ambient light illuminated its exquisite architecture, revealing intricate details and the soft contours of its stone façade.

Stepping onto the grounds for the first time, you let your hands run through the textures of the pillars, feeling its smoothened out surface.

The house, a vision of opulence and warmth, beckoned you with its ethereal allure. Each window and glass wall, strategically placed, welcomed the sunrise with open arms, allowing the light to flood the interior spaces with a radiant glow. The reflections danced upon the surface of the pristine pool outside, playful patterns dancing along the walls and the ceiling. It made the entire house seem alive with its morning gentle touch.

You felt your breath get caught in your throat – stunned by the beauty of it all.

You moved towards the edge of the expansive backyard, where the manicured lawn stretched out like a verdant carpet leading directly to the soft sands of the secluded beach. The sound of the waves, a soothing melody, called out to you. It mingled with the rustling leaves of the palms that framed the house. The air, crisp and salty, invigorated your senses and filled you with a sense of profound peace and connection.

Unbeknownst to you, Rintaro was drunk on your expressions. He lit up each time you smiled at a corner, his heart blooming and swelling he felt it would burst out of his chest. For one of the few times in his life, he felt proud of himself.

“I bought this mansion a year after I started courting you,” he said, his gaze transfixed on the way your hands were still intertwined. It caused him to trail after you like a lost puppy; not that he minded. He just liked being here with you. With that thought in mind, he absentmindedly caressed your wedding ring with the pads of his thumb. “I didn’t have concrete plans in mind yet, but I knew I would end up marrying you someday, and the Palace didn’t seem like a good place for us to enjoy our married life. But here… we can live separately from the rules imposed on us. Here, we are not Princess or Prince. It could just be the two of us.”

You bit your lip, your heart hesitant. It fluttered at the sincerity of his words, swooned at the revelation he’d been planning this for years. You could imagine it – Rintaro walking through this property a year into your courtship, the young Prince nodding to himself because he just knew this place would be yours.

“It’s still mostly empty, of course. I didn’t want to decorate it without asking for your opinions, and I figured maybe you’d want to take the lead in that area,” he encouraged with a smile.

And really, who could say no to that? When he gave you such a beautiful house and handed you the reigns to do as you pleased, then you would turn this house into something you could call your home.

Every detail of the beach house was meticulously designed for both grandeur and intimacy. The spacious terraces offered the perfect setting for private dinners and joyful gatherings with family and friends, promising countless evenings of laughter and love under the starlit sky. You could already envision long, leisurely breakfasts on the balcony, the sea’s gentle murmur a constant, comforting presence.

You would sip your morning coffee in your nightgown, reading the newspaper, or letting your eyes close as you let the sea breeze gently wake you up from the remnants of your slumber. Behind you, your husband would sneak up in nothing but his sleep shirt, his voice deep and croaky with sleep laced to it. He would wrap his arms around your waist, coo good morning in your ears as he buried his face on the crook of your neck.

It was the perfect house to live the married life in.

The moment is too beautiful that it let the walls you’d put up slowly crumble. It gave way for your mind to entertain the thought of hope, of second chances, of a life where Rintaro apologized for everything he did and you forgave him for it. A life where he finally left Iris behind, and moved in here with you – being a loving husband and wife like he’d promised.

Regardless of his mistakes, you couldn’t deny he chose this haven with care.

He understood your yearning for a sanctuary that felt both majestic and personal. You could see his vision in every corner of the house – in the way the morning light filled the rooms, in the carefully carved openness that invited the outside world to become part of your home, and in the promise of countless memories waiting to be made within its walls.

“It’ll get very bright here in a few minutes,” he murmured, his voice echoing through the spacious expanse. “I know you hate dark places, so I wanted something that had a lot of room for sunlight.”

You hummed. “That was thoughtful of you.”

“I only had you in mind when I was looking for our place.”

Tugging at your hand, you let Rintaro drag you upstairs and show you around. “This is our bedroom,” he gestured, and you stepped inside, glancing back at him and down at your intertwined hands in a silent query. Rintaro smiled, nodding as he gently let go of your hand to let you look around the room.

Taking small, careful steps away from him, you let your eyes take in the sight before you. The room was a sanctuary of tranquility, bathed in the soft, warm hues of the rising sun. The bed, dressed in crisp white linens with accents of deep red, invited you to sink into its comfort. Candles flickered softly on a low, modern nightstand, casting a gentle, ambient glow that complemented the natural light streaming through the expansive glass wall.

The true masterpiece, however, was the view.

The entire far wall of the room was made of glass, offering an unobstructed vista of the ocean beyond. Palm trees gently swayed in the morning breeze, framing the horizon perfectly.

You moved closer to the glass, your heart swelling with awe and contentment. Outside, on the spacious terrace, two elegant lounge chairs awaited, promising peaceful mornings and serene evenings spent with the one you loved. The lush greenery surrounding the room blended seamlessly with the view, making it feel as though you lived in harmony with nature.

“Want to see the best part?”

You giggled. “You mean to tell me something could get better than this?”

“Of course. You know I’m only choosing the best for you.”

Leading you into another room at the end of the hall, Rintaro smirked – proud and barely holding back his excitement as he swung the door open. As you stepped inside, a gasp of pure delight escaped your lips – followed by bubbling laughter in disbelief.

The morning sun streamed through the grand, arched windows, casting a warm, golden light that danced sprightly across the room. The room seemed almost enchanted, a perfect blend of nature and comfort, invite you to lose yourself in your own world and let the time pass you by.

Towering bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with volumes of all kinds, promising endless hours of exploration and discovery. The rich, earthy scent of aged paper and polished wood filled the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. A graceful spiral staircase wound its way up to a second level, where more books awaited, their spines gleaming in the soft light.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the cozy seating area, where a plush of sofa beckoned you to sink into its depths and get lost in a story. The soft, muted colors of the cushions and throws added a touch of warmth, making the space feel lived-in and inviting. A quaint reading lamp stood nearby, ready to cast its gentle glow over late night reading sessions. Behind you, you could hear Rintaro move through the room as well – gently picking up knick-knacks placed along the way.

“–And here is your reading corner, or… whatever you’d like it to be really. If you want to crochet, or paint with Tobio, you can use this room.”

“I thought you said this place was empty,” you joked, gazing up at the myriad of books displayed.

“Yes, it is,” smiling to himself, he leant against the wall and crossed his arms across his chest, content to let you indulge yourself by exploring. “But I made sure to fill this place up first, as I figured this would be the room you’d spent the most time in. I went ahead and collected all the books I know you liked, along with other things I thought you would enjoy.”

There it was again – the thumping of your heart over his words.

It was too easy to get carried away, especially when Rintaro was being unnecessarily sweet. It almost felt as if… nothing was wrong at all. And for a moment – just for now – you let yourself forget everything and focused on the present. With your heart tucked and hidden away for safety under your sleeve, you pointedly averted your gaze from your husband. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him like that – content, unguarded, with hooded eyes watching you tenderly. Like he was in love with you, and he meant it when he said he wanted no one else to spend his future with.

You turned your attentions back to the room, the lush greenery that adorned the space, with ferns and potted plants that brought a taste of the outside world in.

You could already imagine yourself curled up on the sofa with a book, the sounds of the waves gently crashing in the background, or perhaps sitting by the window on a rainy day – the patter of raindrops providing a soothing soundtrack to your literary adventures.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell in adoration, even as you tried so hard to fight against it.

The Prince had carefully curated this heaven for you. He’d ensured you could have a space where you would spend countless mornings in, a cup of tea in hand, watching the sun rise over the horizon. Afternoons would be spent exploring the vast worlds in the many books that lined the shelves, each one a new journey waiting to be embarked upon.

This reading room was more than just a space; it was an escape from the world. A place where you could retreat and recharge, surrounded by the things you loved most. As you stood there, bathed in the soft morning light, you were bombarded by a mix of emotions – an internal debate whether to feel elated or depressed.

How could someone know you so well, and still hurt you in the process? Love truly was a dangerous thing.

However, you pushed that thought out of your mind. You did not want any arguments tainting this space, this home. Rintaro’s efforts didn’t deserve to be shattered, either. You would save it for another time. For now, you would explore every inch and corner of this house. “And here’s the backyard – plenty of space for our future kids to play in. I’m thinking twins, one boy and one girl, and then we’ll stop trying for another. Two little devils should be enough. The boy needs to be the eldest though, so he can protect his little Princess,” his eyes lit up, and you can see it already.

Rintaro must’ve seen it, too – the scene of your children running around, chasing other. Your little boy would be screaming at the top of his lungs, your little girl blowing bubbles as her hair bounced around her cute little face with each tiny step she took. If she ever tripped, her brother would immediately be there for her. He’d cradle her soft cheeks in his equally small hands, wiping her tears away and telling her it’d be okay. And then they would run to their parents for comfort – Rintaro would bring them into his arms, pressing kisses to their foreheads before he brought them back to their mama. Then, you’d pull out the first-aid kit, plastering band-aids on every scraped knee and kissing all the boo-boos away.

It was a beautiful thing to imagine. Letting your kids grow up in a beautiful place, with a loving father who would stop at nothing to ensure their happiness, building a family.

It put a smile to your face. “You do know I can’t control who comes out first, right?”

“Yes, but a man could dream,” he shrugged and faced your way, his eyes softening as he scanned your face. You didn’t know why Rintaro looked so beautiful in that moment. The picture perfect image of a Prince Charming, his hazel eyes seeing things you couldn’t, his smile hesitant yet hopeful. “I hope our little girl looks like you. She’d be very pretty just like her Mom.”

Heat rushed at the nape of your neck. It was a flood of emotions all at once – flustered, flattered, frustrated.

You immediately pointed your body in a different direction. Sliding the glass doors aside, you kicked off your heels and sunk your feet into the grass. It was a much needed reprieve after walking and driving for hours with those darned heels. Soon enough, you could hear Rintaro trailing behind you – a quick, curious glance letting you know he’d picked up your heels, your shoes dangling on his crooked fingers.

“Can we have a dog?”

“We could have a dog,” he grinned, and then gestured for you to come follow him. Feet sinking into the sand, your hands found solace in his bicep. Rintaro practically puffs up with male pride the moment your nails sunk into his skin. It was silly, enough to make you roll your eyes, but you kept on walking and walking – the sounds of sand crunching beneath your feet and the delicious warmth emanating from your husband a great way to start the morning. Eventually, you’d made it to the front of the house, where the crystalline pool stood just before the sea announced its presence.

“And in the beachfront, well, we could do pretty much anything. Barbecue, invite friends over for dinner. Oh, and there’s a wine cellar in the basement. I think I had that filled up, too. Do you want to have a quick drink before we go?” Shaking your head at him, Rintaro nods, gnawing at his lip before he decides – fuck it – and finally lets his hand rest on top of yours.

The position was oddly intimate. You weren’t embracing each other, yet you’d never been so close to him before. Your sides pressed against one another, your hand curled onto his arm, with his large, veiny hands caressing yours. It’s a little too perfect, and it makes you just a little too in love. Unable to help it, and drunk in the serenity of it all, you let your head fall back to his shoulder. Eyes closed, breaths shallow – your heartbeat in sync with his.

Thump, thump, thump. The schwaa of the waves. The whoosh of the wind.

It was like heaven on earth.

Above you, Rintaro cleared his throat. “So? What do you think? Is it to your liking? If it isn’t, I could always look for a different house–”

“It’s beautiful, Rin. Thank you.”

“You like it?”

“I love it,” you told him, opening your eyes to smile up at him, your cheek still smooshed against his broad shoulders. “It’d be a perfect home for us.”

“O-Okay,” he blushed, averting his gaze from you as he stared at the sea instead. The motion made you chuckle. It wasn’t always Rintaro could be such a flustered, affected man, but you adored the rare times when he was. Just then, an idea popped up in your head and you grinned, tapping his shoulder with your nails.

“Hey. Why don’t we have a little housewarming party to make it feel more like home?”

“We can?”

“We can do whatever we want, Rin,” you reminded him, and then scrunched your nose as you thought of the whole process. Furniture shopping, talking with interior designers, adding your personal touch, bringing in some of your most important things to this beach house that was literally miles away from the Palace. “–Although decorating it would take a lot of time and you must be busy–”

Rintaro’s eyes widened in panic. “I’m not busy. Well, I am, but I’ll make time. Let’s – Let’s decorate. I want to turn this into our home, too.”

You squeezed his bicep, warmth flooding your senses.

As you wandered through the house, your heart swelled with love and gratitude. The beach house wasn’t just a place to live in; it was a dream woven into reality. A testament to the life you would build together. Standing there, bathed in the tender embrace of the sunrise, you felt an unbreakable bond to this place, knowing that it would be the backdrop to your love story – however complicated it may be – a place where you both would grow, laugh, and find solace in each other for the years to come.

For the next few months following your arrival, you and Rintaro dedicated yourselves to transforming the beach house into a true home. It was a long, arduous process – infusing every corner with your touch, and Rintaro with his love for knick-knacks. Countless mornings were spent wandering through local markets, hand in hand, searching for pieces that spoke to you – the future you would create.

It was a great opportunity to fool the media, too, a silent declaration to the world that your marriage would not be swayed by petty rumors.

Well, they were not just rumors, but the Queen seemed ardently pleased by the amassed support.

Rintaro, suddenly the considerate partner and doting husband, would often pause to hold up a delicate vase or an intricately carved wooden sculpture, his eyes seeking your approval. You, in turn, would smile and nod, trusting his impeccable taste and loving the way he always seemed to know what would make your heart sing.

It was as if he knew what you’d like before you even said it out loud. Maybe it was because he’d spent two years of his life courting you that he now knew you like the back of his hand.

Whatever it was, the media ate it up. The article regarding his cheating scandal eventually became nothing but measly gossip. You remained in contact with Kuroo, however, his article about Iris only waiting to drop at your signal.

It should’ve been released months ago. You could’ve ruined her already, snatched your husband back right under her nose – you just couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not when she’d been pointedly avoiding Rintaro, and your husband was acting like he forgot she existed. Could it be both of them couldn’t handle the criticism, after all? Did they care more about their reputations and image than their ‘passionate love affair’?

But then again, neither of them wanted to be exposed for their trysts.

It was all Atsumu’s doing.

And that actress – poor Hiroda Yuki – still remained oblivious to the sex tape you hid under your closet. A secret you would bury there forever, a secret you’d take with you to your grave. You hadn’t heard news of her getting knocked up, and her career was still soaring. For now, you had nothing to worry about. It seemed peaceful – for now.

In the meantime, you dedicated your afternoons in the arrangement and rearrangement of everything you’ve collected – snow globes from your trips overseas with your parents, Rintaro’s random collection of weapons and key chains from his own adventures. The living room, with its expansive glass walls and view of the endless ocean, became a canvas for you to experiment with. There were no rules here.

You placed a soft, oversized rug in the center, its deep blues and greens echoing the colors of the sea. Comfortable chairs and sofas were positioned to invite conversation and relaxation, while vibrant cushions and throws added splashes of color and warmth. You insisted on color, ensuring that the beach house had to be vibrant and thrumming with life. You refused to let it be like the Palace – dull yet overwhelming with all its arching marble statues and golden chandeliers.

And then the dining area, envisioned as the heart of your home, where family and friends would gather, received special attention. You chose a large, rustic wooden table, its surface polished to a warm glow. Around it, you placed mismatched chairs (which greatly bothered Kiyoomi when you sent him photos), but you told him that each had its own story and character. The space was an organized mess, eclectic yet coherent. Above the table, Rintaro hung a chandelier of delicate glass orbs that cast a soft, magical light during evening meals.

The master bedroom was a different tale itself. It was the room you and Rintaro spent the most time on. You established several rules before proceeding, drilling it into his head that:

Rule no. 1: He was not allowed to bring any women inside. (He scoffed at it, offended, but agreed anyway.)

Rule no. 2: Lavender essential oils were the only scents allowed. Vanilla scents were forbidden. (He didn’t understand why you were so vehemently against it, but again – whatever makes the wife happy, was what he said. That alone made you question… did he not know what Iris smelled like? He knew all your favorite perfumes by heart, yet could not recognize the distinctness of vanilla? You quickly dropped the subject.)

And finally, Rule no. 3: No arguments inside the bedroom.

(Rintaro was barely able to hide his shock at you suggesting it. His eyes widened for a moment, an expression he quickly schooled into that of nonchalance. “Of course,” he’d said, “Any conversation that may require a debate will always be had outside. Never here.” To which you replied, “Never here, Rintaro. This is our space. We will not be enemies here.)

There it was, the master bedroom, a sanctuary of tranquility and intimacy. Soft, sheer curtains were chosen to filter the morning light. The bed was adorned with luxurious linens and a variety of textured pillows, making it a perfect retreat after long days spent exploring the island or entertaining the guests you would have over.

Personal touches, like framed photographs of your wedding, and the candid ones he’d taken of you each time he called for you in the Yuzuru Estate, were placed on the nightstands.

All that was left was to invite his brothers over for the housewarming party.

You and Rintaro decided to keep it a secret for now. After all, it wasn’t every day that the brothers all gathered together for dinner outside the Palace. You debated inviting the Queen over, too, but after that recent fiasco and her snide remarks about your mother, you were heavily against it. Rintaro, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. He just wanted to spend time with his brothers – saying they’ve never done that before. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late for them to rekindle their brotherhood.

It sounded like an absurd idea at first, you admitted. You didn’t have to go so far to help your husband get along with his own brothers, but whether you liked it or not, you were married – and marriage often came with demanding responsibilities.

Of course, there was still the issue of Iris: would she be invited or not?

You gauged it for the first few weeks. Waiting, listening, and watching with a careful eye on how Rintaro would be acting. You’d also piloted the agenda, peering over it like a hawk to see if he would sneak in a thing or two. Or maybe he had a room for her. But – much to your surprise – there was none. There were exactly nine guest rooms; one for each brother and their wife, and one for the Queen or your parents, whoever wanted to visit.

Still, it made you turn your nose upwards.

You didn’t fancy the thought of Kiyoomi sharing a room with Iris. In fact, the image of them sharing the same bed was enough to make your stomach turn upside down. But knowing Kiyoomi? He’d probably make her sleep on the floor than be anywhere near her.

Finally, after some finishing touches, you both sent out the invitations.

The housewarming party was an intimate, private event. It was challenging at first – their schedules did not align with each other, and Prince Wakatoshi was not warming up to the idea. However, his son, Wakashi, badly wanted to see the sea. That was all it took before he’d agreed, and soon, even the busybody Shinsuke accepted the invitation – with the promise Airi could also come.

Pride bloomed in your chest. It seemed like an impossible feat at the beginning, gathering all the Princes into one place. But they’re all here now – Keiji was reading books to Wakashi, Tobio is playing beach volleyball with Tooru, Rintaro, and Atsumu. Osamu declined his brothers’ invitation as soon as he caught sight of your kitchen, pushing past his blond-haired twin and declaring that your kitchen was now his. You all laughed about it, and Osamu hasn’t left since.

Wakatoshi was there in your living room, cuddled up on the couch with his wife, Camilla. They both snoozed in peace, lulled by the Princes’ distant shouts and yells from their game. Behind them, Shinsuke crouched over the paperwork he’d brought with him, Airi happily gazing at her Prince as she wiped glasses and silverware.

Kiyoomi and Iris, for some reason, did not participate in any of the activities. The Second Prince has worn a stormy expression the moment he parked his car, his wife in tow. Iris didn’t look great either – her face pale and lips chapped.

You made a mental note to ask him about it later. For now, you would enjoy yourself.

Stepping out of the living room, you walked past the pool and to the beach. The Princes were still playing on a 2v2, Tobio and Tooru on one team, Rintaro and Atsumu on the other. As you got there, your sundress puffing up from the wind, you noticed Maiko was already on one of the lawn chairs – smiling fondly at her husband who scored once more.

You followed her gaze. Now that was a sight, indeed. All the Princes were shirtless – their muscles rippling with each jump or aggressive spike of the ball. They’d already been tanned after playing under the sun for hours, their healthy golden glow illuminated by the setting sun. Rintaro himself had you struggling to look away. Wearing sun shades, a black compression arm sleeve, and his shorts hanging low on his hips – it suddenly felt hot despite the breeze.

Shaking your head to yourself, you tore your gaze away from him and sat next to the Princess. “Maiko,” you greeted, handing her a watermelon juice.

“Your Highness!” she beamed, gladly accepting the drink and playing with the umbrella before she continued, “Thank you for having us over.”

“It was my pleasure,” Smiling, you watched her closely, not missing the way her cheeks flamed each time Tooru scored and he looked her way. The movement was subtle, barely noticeable from another’s eye, but it was clear in that moment it meant the world to Maiko. Beside you, the Princess hid her giddy smile behind her drink, her bare toes curling into the sand beneath you. “So. You and Tooru seem to have gotten along more.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say that,” she scrunched her nose, “He was really worried for you, you know. He wouldn’t stop telling me how he was going to beat the Crown Prince up. And when that article went out…”

“We’ve moved past that.”

“You have?” she perked up, “I mean, that’s good. Have you forgiven him?”

You took another sip of your drink, and then snorted. “Of course not. But I think we’re at this point in our marriage where we’re pretending to be happily married, and it’s hard for me to not play my part,” when Maiko titled her head to the side, confused, you gestured to the grand abode behind you. “He’s bought me this house, helped me decorate it. We spent many nights talking about how we’d like it to be, and now we’re all here. His brothers, their wives – everyone is laughing and having fun. How could I ruin it by dwelling on the past?”

Maiko didn’t look entirely convinced. You couldn’t blame her – you weren’t very convinced yourself.

Things were going a little too smoothly for your liking. Until now, you still had your doubts that everything was suddenly okay, that Rintaro and Iris have suddenly decided to end their relationship. But you’d asked around, bribed the maids in Belleview Manor, and they all said the same thing.

Rintaro and Iris have not spoken to each other ever since your return.

It felt as if Rintaro had been sincere when he said he only slept with her because he felt lonely with you. A pathetic excuse, of course, something only an imbecile would fall for. But you’d long accepted that Rintaro was an oddity and complexity of itself.

The only way to truly understand him was to let him show all versions of himself, both the good and the bad, before you could see which one of him you could love the most.

And this Rintaro?

The loyal, caring husband who’d given you this home? The one who wouldn’t stop stealing kisses even when no one was looking? The one who proved to you that the master bedroom upstairs indeed had very soft, luxurious beds by fucking you in it all the way until the morning?

You liked that Rintaro very much.

“I’m always here for you,” Maiko said after a moment, her smile genuine as she gazed upon the secluded area. “The house is beautiful, by the way. I can see why you looked so happy ever since the Crown Prince showed this place to you.”

“It’s our home. It was the best thing he could’ve given me.”

Saying it loud felt like an accomplishment. Your mother had always told you that you would be great at managing your own house someday. It felt surreal to see with your own eyes that she’d been right.

“To be honest, I never expected I would have moments like this,” quipped Maiko, her smile wavering as she plucked out the cocktail umbrella. “Before I married Tooru, it was lonely in the Rai Estate. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father married the next woman who presented herself to him. Sometimes I think he did that because he wanted me to grow up with a mother, but my stepmother was never fond of me. It was a lonely childhood, I must admit,” she confessed with a sarcastic chuckle, lifting her head to stare at her husband. “But then Prince Tooru came along. The Queen started bringing him along whenever she visited my father, and the Prince and I would always have playdates. I remember I would cry each time they had to return to the Palace.”

You tipped your head to the side, curious. “The Queen brought Tooru to the Rai Estate?”

Maiko nodded. “Yes. You didn’t know? Her Majesty is my godmother,” she informed, absentmindedly spinning the ring on her finger. “She was close friends with my father, and they remained in contact even when she married the King. I’d say she was the closest I ever got to having a mother figure, but Her Majesty is too busy to waste her time looking after a little girl.”

“I see,” you murmured, and reached over to clasp her bare shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry about your mother, Maiko. I hadn’t known she’d already passed.”

“It’s alright, not a lot of people mourned her death anyway. And people easily forgot she existed because my father remarried very soon,” she shrugged, a forlorn look crossing her sharp features. “My father said I don’t look like her. Sometimes, I think that fact made it easier for him to move on, because he never saw her in me.”

“Did your father love her?”

“Probably not. You know how marriages between nobles are; I wouldn’t be surprised if it was arranged. He never talked about her either, so I wouldn’t know.”

You hummed to yourself, “Does the Queen still visit Lord Rai?”

“Not lately, no. She got occupied handling the Kingdom’s affairs when His Majesty passed away, but they still send each other letters during birthdays. I’m not sure the Queen has written back to my father in a while, though,” as quickly as she said it, Maiko’s back straightened, her free hands waving frantically in the air. “Oh, I hope this doesn’t change the way you see me, Princess. I promise the Queen does not hold any special favors to me.”

“Not at all, Maiko. You’re still the same Princess in my eyes.”

“TAKE THAT!”

Both of your heads snapped in the Princes’ direction. Tobio, pumping his arms in the air as Atsumu tugged at his blond locks from the other side of the net. Tooru was running around – or more like bouncing – while your husband was down on one knee, panting heavily with sweat dripping down his chest.

Before you could process what was going on, Tooru bolted for Maiko’s direction, whooping and hollering as he picked her up and twirled her. Maiko’s squeal was lodged in her chest upon Tooru’s crushing hug. He kept spinning her, enough to have Maiko wobbly on her feet when he finally put her down, holding her at an arm’s length away as he exclaimed, “Did you see that? Rintaro couldn’t receive my serve!”

“It was just a lucky serve!” defended your husband.

“Yeah, right.”

Rintaro turned to you, his ears turning red as he stood up and dusted the sand of his abs. “It was a lucky serve.”

You put your hand up to your mouth, concealing your laughter. “I’m sure it was.”

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the horizon, the air buzzed with excitement and the scent of blooming flowers from the garden. The sound of waves crashing softly in the background added a serene rhythm to the lively conversations that flowed as effortlessly as the wine. The brothers, their bond evident in their playful banter and shared stories, mingled around the spacious terrace, their laughter mingling with the music that floated through the air.

You eventually left Maiko, seeing as the Princes did not have any plans on stopping their game anytime soon. You didn’t want to rush them into dinner either, not when Rintaro looked like he was having the time of his life.

Dusting sand off your dress, you took yours and Maiko’s empty glasses back inside. Airi and Osamu were still in the kitchen; the former smiling at you when you handed her the glasses, while Osamu remained elbow-deep in some dough. You left them soon to their devices, heading out of the kitchen when you nearly bumped into a firm chest.

“Hey.”

“Kiyoomi,” you blinked up at him, joy radiating from every pore now that he was here. Kiyoomi looked handsome in just his cream, short-sleeved linen shirt, his curls tousled and falling beautifully to frame his face. Until now, you were still beguiled by his striking beauty. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I heard you’d been occupied with some things in Itachiyama.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, and I would never decline an invitation from you,” he said softly, dipping his head so you could hear him better. His close proximity set your heart racing, and before you noticed it, you had your dress balled into your fists. “You did a great job with the place. It’s lovely.”

“Thank you,” you breathed out, voice light and airy as you gestured outside. “Are you not going to join your brothers in their game?”

Kiyoomi shook his head, a mischievous smirk gracing his handsome features. “If I did, then Rintaro’s team would lose.”

“Oh, are you a better player than him?”

“I’m better than him in all aspects,” he declared, offhandedly gesturing to their brother on the couch. “Though I could never hit as hard as Wakatoshi. You should’ve seen him in his prime – he was a monster as long as he had the ball in his hands.”

“I didn’t know you played volleyball, too.”

“We used to play a lot when we were younger. Before duties called.”

You nodded, silently escorting him out of the kitchen. You could already feel Airi’s gaze burning holes at the back of your head. “How is Iris, by the way? I don’t think I’ve seen her around.”

“She said she wasn’t feeling well, so she’s been holed up in bed ever since,” informed Kiyoomi, scratching his cheek in thought. “Did she have a fight with Rin?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think… it’s because Rintaro is ignoring her, and she might be upset about that,” wrinkling your nose, you raised both hands in the air as a form of surrender. “But let’s not talk about unpleasant things. How was your trip to Itachiyama? And Kanami! How is she? I didn’t get to properly say goodbye to her last time.”

Kiyoomi’s lip twitched with amusement. “She’s fine, just a little mad that I took you home without informing her beforehand. She really wanted to spend more time with you.”

I didn’t want to leave either, you almost told him, biting back your tongue at the last moment.

Finding yourself alone with the older Prince, the air thickened with unspoken tension. A palpable static seemed to crackle between you two. Every glance exchanged was laden with unvoiced words, and every accidental touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. He stood close to you, his presence comforting and warm, yet an invisible barrier held you apart – neither brave enough to bridge the gap.

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of his presence beside you, the magnetic pull urging you closer. The silence was almost deafening – filled with the potential of what could be said, yet the fear of breaking it kept you mute.

Finally, Kiyoomi, with a nervous swallow and a shy, almost boyish smile, broke the silence.

“How was the meeting with Kuroo?” he began, his voice soft but trembling with the same tension you felt.

You told him everything without a detail to spare. Your words were hushed, voice barely above a whisper in case anyone accidentally walked in on you. Kiyoomi nodded as he took everything in, the tension on his shoulders increasing. “I see. Has he contacted you ever since?”

“The last message I got from him was from a few days ago. He says he’s got everything he needs – he’s just waiting for the green light.”

“So we’re just waiting for him to drop the bomb.”

“Practically, yes,” you agreed, when an idea formed in your head. Clapping your hands together, you tugged at Kiyoomi’s sleeve. “Actually, could you come with me? I wanted to show you something.”

Kiyoomi wasn’t able to say his response before you’re dragging him upstairs. You already knew the house like the back of your hand, confident you could navigate through it even with your eyes closed. Once you’d reached your destination, you swung the doors open – arms outstretched to show it off. “This is my reading corner, a library of sorts. And here–” you led him to a wall you’d intentionally kept empty, “–is your corner.”

“My corner?”

“Yes, you know, like how everyone has their own space in your library back at the farmhouse.”

“That’s a family house. This is your house with your husband.”

“Rintaro bought it because he wanted to have a safe space with his family, and you’re his brother. That makes you my family too, doesn’t it?”

Your smile was warm, sincere and elated upon presenting him his ‘corner.’ Kiyoomi couldn’t blame you for not noticing the fleeting hurt in his eyes, his disappointment quickly masked with a practiced, cordial nod.

“Family. Right,” he echoed, “I’ll make sure to add my own things someday here. Thank you.”

“FUCK YEAH!” roared Atsumu from below. All too quickly, the moment is broken. You and Kiyoomi stepped away from each other, both releasing a breath you didn’t noticed you held.

“I should go–”

“Of course,” Kiyoomi agreed, his nods a tad too hurried. He’s looking at everywhere but you now. “I’ll follow in a bit.”

You were hesitant to leave. It’d felt like forever since you’d last spoken to Kiyoomi. Ever since that night your call did not push through when Rintaro chased after you, Kiyoomi had been restless. He’d text you every morning and night, without fail, to reassure himself you did not come to harm. He was sweet – undeniably so – and it felt like a waste. Everything did. You couldn’t spend time with him, or speak to him freely like you did in Itachiyama anymore. Here, in Inarizaki, the cameras devoured everything you and Rintaro did.

It came without question you’d unknowingly distanced yourself from the Second Prince.

With a heart heavy of doubt, you exited the room. The last you saw of Kiyoomi was him slouched over his corner, his eyes closed and his head resting on his arm.

You skipped down the stairs, careful of the ankle-length of your sundress. The living room was already a mess when you got there – Atsumu was shaking Wakatoshi awake by the shoulders, screaming that he’d won against ‘stupid Tooru.’ Tooru, on the other hand, was being comforted by his wife, a pout permanent on his face.

“Hey,” an arm wrapped itself around your waist. Tensing, you quickly smiled when you saw it was just Rintaro – now dressed in a plain white button-up, the top three buttons left open to cool himself.

“Hey back.”

“Why didn’t you watch me play?”

You almost laughed at him. It was a comical sight – your tall husband slouching and pouting like a kicked puppy. Shaking your head at him, you let him pull you into an embrace, his arms engulfing you completely. You’re wholly warm like this, his head on top of yours, your cheek on his warm chest that’s still slightly damp with sweat.

“We have guests over, Rin. I have to make sure everyone’s settled.”

“But I played good,” he whines above you, his head dipping to playfully nibble at your ear. Rintaro crushes you in the embrace, your bodies pressed close enough that the growing tent in his trousers poked you through your sundress. Breath hitching, your tilted your neck to give him more access – warily looking out for onlookers. Thankfully, his brothers were all occupied with searching for snacks.

“I’m not inviting my brothers over next time. They take up too much of your attention.”

“Don’t be weird,” you teased, “I’m all yours tonight.”

Tipping your chin to look him in the eye, Rintaro presses a tender kiss at the insides of your wrist. “All mine for a lifetime, hopefully.”

“We’re married. I don’t think we have much of a choice in that aspect.”

When Rintaro smiled, his whole face lit up, his teeth flashing wickedly. Squeezing your waist, his eyes took in the warm, golden lights of your house. The bustling noise his brothers made, and the aroma of dinner being prepared. “We really outdid ourselves, huh. This place turned out better than I expected.”

You patted his firm stomach. “Should we all celebrate with some dinner?”

Nodding, Rintaro pressed a kiss to your forehead before disappearing in the kitchen. Atsumu followed not long after, complaining that ‘Samu was taking ‘too darned long’ preparing his food. You can’t help the smile making its way into your face. Rintaro was right; you really outdid yourselves. The night was a success – everyone was happy, and it finally felt like everything was normal.

“Nee-chan,” Tobio appeared before you, a towel wrapped around his neck. His grin is bright, cheeks flushed from the game and still breathing heavily. “Thank you for the party. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun before.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Tobio,” you beamed at him, watching from behind him as Wakatoshi shook his head at all the noise his brothers made – not missing the way his lips curled just the slightest when his son joined in on the joyous atmosphere.

“You should teach me how to play volleyball someday.”

“Of course!” Tobio said, a little eagerly. Just then, his eyes dimmed, his smile wavering as he approached you, a hand cupped at the sides of his mouth. “But sis… are you sure you’re okay with Rintaro? He seems oddly clingy to you today. If he bothers you, let me know, okay? I’ll beat him up. I’ll ask Shinsuke-nii to help me too–”

“Calm down. No one’s getting beaten up today. Let’s just enjoy dinner, alright?”

Tobio sulked, his shoulders closing in together with a frown. However, all that disappeared when Osamu and Airi appeared with dinner. Within minutes, all of you were situated in the long table. Everyone dug in, a mumbled ‘thanks’ and a quick prayer led by Wakatoshi.

Beside you, Rintaro squeezed your thigh before standing up. The scraping of his chair alerted everyone – multiple pairs of heads turning your way as he raised a glass.

“I wanted to make a toast – to thank everyone for coming despite their busy schedules. This home – our home – means the world to me, and there’s no one else but family who I’d rather share this moment with. I want to thank my wife, too, for bringing light into my life,” he gestured your way, causing a bout of sniggers coming from Atsumu. You rolled your eyes and decided to ignore him. “Also, I am very happy to announce that the scandal has been officially cleared. The writer of that article has left the country, and the media is no longer attacking me. I am officially an honorable man again.”

“To honor?” Osamu raised his wine with a snort, and everyone glared at him. “Oh, my bad, I thought that’s what we were toasting for.”

“Osamu,” warned Shinsuke.

“To good memories,” you announced, followed by a chorus of echoes, “And to family.” Pointing your drink in Kiyoomi’s way, the Prince raised his drink, his small smile hidden behind the glass.

“To family.”

As twilight deepened into night, the garden lights twinkled like stars, and the gathering moved inside to the cozy warmth of the living room. Stories and laughter continued late into the evening, the house filled with the comforting sounds of family and the promise of many more cherished moments to come.

It was a night of celebration, not just of a new home, but of the bonds that made it a true haven—a place where love, laughter, and the warmth of family would forever reside.

It was a moment you would cherish while it lasted.

Everyone headed straight for the wine cellar after dinner.

It caused a ruckus – half of the Princes were passed out drunk in their rooms, while the rest stayed up playing Mario Kart. It had been Tobio’s idea, and with Rintaro eagerly joining in, it soon turned into the competitive bout it was now. Whoever lost would skinny dip in the pool without turning the heater on.

You shook your head at their antics.

You cleaned up after everyone, Maiko and Camilla apologizing that they wanted to tend to their drunk husbands and couldn’t help. You quickly waved them away, unbothered. If anything, you appreciated how the noise slowly dissipated – leaving you alone with Kiyoomi who’d volunteered to help clean up. The silence is comfortable as you maneuvered around the dining room.

“Your Highness!” exclaimed Airi, wiping her hands on her apron as she rushed to you both. “Please, leave that behind, I’ll take care of it!”

As gently as you could, you snatched back the wet rug from her hands. “Airi, darling, you can go ahead and rest. I’ll take over here.”

“Oh but Princess, I could never! I’ll clean everything up–”

Kiyoomi smiled at her. “It’s okay, Airi. I’m sure Shinsuke’s been dying to talk to you, too,” Airi flushed red, causing the Prince to rumble in laughter beside you. “Go. We’ll handle this.”

“T-Thank you.”

Airi dashed upstairs, sending you both one last grateful glance before disappearing.

Guilt washed over you at the sight of her. Airi and Kita seemed to be happy together, but you knew the harsh reality that the chances of them working out were low. Not only was she a maid, but she had completely nothing to her name – no family, no college degree, and had a mouth that required dire control. At least here in the privacy of your home, they would receive no criticism, but as soon as you all returned home to the Palace… you sighed.

You couldn’t tell whether you were comforted at the thought you were not the only one suffering when it came to love.

You’re elbow deep in the sink washing the dishes, Kiyoomi at your side silently wiping the plates, when you remembered an empty seat at the table. “Iris didn’t come down for dinner. Should I bring her some leftovers?”

Kiyoomi grumbled, uninterested. “I’m sure she’ll come around once she’s hungry, and that should be soon. She’s had a mad appetite lately.”

Speaking of the devil, a light tap came from the countertops. You whipped your head at the soft, lilting voice. Iris stood a few feet away from you, a basket covered with red cloth held in front of her stomach. She looked sheepish; her brown hair falling down her in graceful waves, but her eyes were red and swollen, as if she’d been crying the entire time.

You snuck a glance at Kiyoomi, questioning, but he merely shrugged, turning his back to her and resuming with his task.

“Your Highness. May I speak with you?” her eyes darted to her husband’s figure, shifting from foot to foot. “Alone?”

“Of course. Excuse me for a moment,” bowing to Kiyoomi, you quickly washed your hands and followed Iris. She led you past the living room and out to the pools. The Princes’ shouts and banters became nothing but background noise. There, Iris situated herself in the picnic table under the willow tree, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“What is it you wanted to talk about?”

She nudged the basket your way, lifting the red cloth to reveal… pastries? “I baked these cookies for you this morning before we left the Palace. Please, have some. Consider it my peace offering.”

You fell silent. Mouth opening and closing as you searched for the right words, you settled for a forced smile. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

Iris gnawed on her lip, and dragged her chair closer to you. Much to your surprise, her hands landed on your knee, her big, green eyes pleading. “Listen, Princess, I know we got off on the wrong footing, and I really want to put that behind us and start new.”

“Uh,” you blinked back, “O-Okay?”

“I’m sorry for everything. I really am. I didn’t mean for Rintaro’s lies to drag on and go this far, and if you must know, I never supported him on his plan–”

“Why?” you didn’t mean for your words to come out harsh. But it did, and you tilted your head to the side, oddly calm as you asked, “Why don’t you support him? Don’t you want to be his?”

Iris’ bravado faltered for a minute.

“I-I did at one point. It gets tiring having to hide your relationship, you know? But his plans seemed too absurd to me, and it sounded impossible that he could achieve it.”

“Do you think he’s not fit to be King?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied,” you reiterated, scanning her face for answers – for the truth – when realization dawned on you. Leaning back, you flicked her hands away from your lap, lips curling in distaste. “You look down on him, Iris. You don’t think he’s a capable Prince at all.”

Iris clenched her jaw in an attempt to bite back a retort. “He has his many great qualities, but sometimes the Crown Prince loses touch of what is real and what is not,” she said, her placid tone betraying the fire burning in her eyes. “This is why I’m hoping we can be friends and start anew, Princess. I’m letting you know I’m breaking up with Rin. In fact, we have not been talking as of lately–”

“You fucked him in my bed lately. Do you really expect I would believe you?”

Her gaze was ice cold as it cut to you. “That was months ago, and he was the one who brought me there.”

“Let’s say he did. But who’s to say you did not seduce him beforehand?”

“He said his room felt lonely without you there, and he brought me for company. Don’t you realize, Princess? Your husband longs for you more than you know.”

Unable to help it, you chortled out a laugh. “What, are you saying he loves me?”

“He might,” she gritted her teeth, “But he needs to get over me first. That’s why I’m letting him go – you’re a kind person and you don’t deserve to be treated as second best. I’m putting my heart aside so you can finally enjoy your marriage.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re doing this for me? How very benevolent of you, Princess.”

“It’s really not that hard to believe I want you to be happy.”

You shook your head, refusing to believe it was this easy. “Why the sudden change of heart? Is it because you couldn’t handle being called a slut by everyone?”

“I am not a slut, nor am I a homewrecker. He loved me first, don’t you forget that,” she spat out, her words laced with poison. It had you narrowing your eyes at her, and the Princess cowered for a moment, dropping her gaze down her lap as she stumbled over what to say next. “But the truth is… I never loved him. Or if I did, it wasn’t to the point where I would throw away my marriage to him. I want stability, Your Highness, and my union with Kiyoomi provided me that. Stability, security, and power – I have it all. There’s nothing more I could possibly want.”

“Then why were you sleeping with my husband?”

Iris shut her eyes, her hands balled into fists at her lap. “Because my husband wasn’t around. He avoided me like the plague during the early stages of our marriage, and the Palace is too big a place for someone like me. I’m human, too. I got lonely. You cannot blame me for seeking out the warmth of another. He wasn’t yours during those times, so you can’t put this over our heads again and again.”

“You were using him,” you stated, shooting up from your seat. Kiyoomi had told you about it. Hell, even Maiko had an inkling their relationship was nothing but exploitative on Iris’ part, but hearing it coming from her – hearing how she used your husband like he was a mere toy or puppet for her to play with as she pleases… your blood boiled.

“You knew Rintaro was in love with you, and you took advantage of that. How could you?”

“Because he was there when no one else was.”

You stood rigidly, trying to quell the storm brewing within you. Fixing your gaze on the horizon, you avoided Iris’s eyes, afraid that even a fleeting glance would betray the torrent of emotions you fought to contain. Each breath was a deliberate effort to maintain your composure, your mind a battlefield of unspoken accusations and restrained fury.

Despite the turmoil, you held yourself with regal poise.

“I think I’m going to have a drink,” you decided, sending one last forced smile her way. “Care for some?”

Color drained from the Princess’ face. “No, I-I’m laying off the drinks for a while. I’ve never been a drinker anyway.”

You watched Iris from the corner of your eye, noting how she subtly used her arms to hug her stomach, her movements slow and deliberate. Since arriving at the beach house, Iris had looked unusually pale and sickly, her vitality drained. She kept her distance from Rintaro, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by everyone.

A wild thought flickered through your mind – could Iris be pregnant?

You quickly dismissed the idea, shaking your head, but the possibility lingered – filling you with a growing sense of dread. The realization settled in her chest like a heavy stone, the implications threating to unravel the fragile ‘peace’ between you all.

“Hmm.” You dug your nails to your palm, licking your lips as you tried to still your beating heart. “I think I’ll head to bed soon. Good night, Iris.”

“Princess,” Iris called out from where she sat, her beautiful face crestfallen and desperate. “Have you forgiven me? Can we be friends?”

“I’ll think about it.”

You headed back inside the house, your breathing growing shallower with each step you took. Faintly, you heard Rintaro’s concerned voice calling after you. You paid him no mind, taking two steps at a time as you pushed open the door to their shared bedroom.

Kiyoomi was already inside, in the middle of taking off his wristwatch when you came bustling in. Your name fell on his lips. You ignored him, too, heading for the bed with crumpled sheets from where Iris must’ve slept. You threw the pillows on the ground, the blankets balled and discarded to the side, as you looked for something – searched for answers. Her belongings all came crashing to the ground as you picked it apart one by one, hauling her suitcase from the drawer before kicking it to the floor.

“Princess,” Kiyoomi sounded worried, his hands coming up to reach for you when you slapped it away. Concern flashed over his face, more so when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

“She’s hiding something. I know it.”

It didn’t take much effort to open her suitcase. Clothes, shoes, her makeup bag – you emptied it of its contents and felt around for any hidden zippers. None. It was empty, save for some unused tampons scattering right beneath your feet.

Your vision began to grow blurry.

Pushing past Kiyoomi, you dashed for the bathroom and knelt on the ground, opening the trash bin and digging through the heap of dry paper towels. You stared at it, confused. Why throw away perfectly good and unused napkins? Determined, you flipped the bin upside down. A white, thin object fell on the ground with a soft clink.

You reached for it with shaky hands.

It was a pregnancy test – one that read positive.

Behind you, you heard Kiyoomi’s sharp inhale. “It’s not mine,” his words faded into the background, “I never touched her.”

When you found the strength to speak, your voice came out weak and cracked.

“…I know you’re not the father.”

from the left: beach house → master bedroom → reading room

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holybibly · 9 months ago

Note

Heyy if your dark hours are still open…👀👀 would you mind sharing your thoughts about yandere Ateez concubine harem…? Or perhaps any harem that you can think of because I’m very much into this topic🤭🤭🤭

You know what? Today I wanted to be affectionate with you, damn bunnies, and spoil you with tenderness and sweets, but you just provoked my dark side with all these requests, didn't you?

So change of plan, bunnies; we're going down the dark and rough road. I love yandere's concubines, Ateez. God, can we think of anything more seductive and more dangerous than that? From now on, you should send me such requests more often, bunnies. Feed this demon within me.

You entered the palace as the wife of the new emperor. His fourth wife. His glittering war trophy.

When war came, your world was changed beyond recognition. Flames and ashes consumed the luxury and grandeur of the palaces, and the jewels turned to dust, leaving only you, the Ice Princess of the Northern Mountains.

Your life was made of crystal and your heart was made of ice stronger than diamonds, and it was this cold and lunar beauty that caused you to be forcibly married.

Yes, you may have entered the palace as the Emperor's wife. But you were a nobody within the high walls of the palace, just a sad reflection of past your greatness.

Everyone knew that the Emperor had a large harem, not counting the three older wives, but what really surprised you was that it was not only made up of girls, but of young men as well. There were eight of them. Each one more beautiful than the last, each one unique and unrepeatable.

Until one fateful night, you had never met them or seen them in person. It was a lunar festival, and you were its queen. Dressed in silk and the finest translucent tulle, as if kissed by the moon goddess herself, you sparkled and attracted the attention of everyone around you. Everybody, but not your husband. He didn't even look at you, brushed you aside as if you were an annoying mosquito, and sent you off to talk and smile at the guests while he went off to fuck another beautiful concubine.

And then, for the first time in your life, you had a meeting with the concubines of his other harem. And your world was turned upside down for the second time in your life.

It was love at first sight, a fire that burned through his veins and poisoned his mind. And it was all because of you. It was your fault that Wooyoung couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't laugh, and couldn't live. All of a sudden, his whole world was reduced to you and your heavenly, icy beauty. He passionately wanted to melt that ice, make you beg, squirm, and moan as he fucked you unconscious and painfully, filling you with his sperm and marking you as his property.

The only thing Wooyoung ever had in his life was his beauty. He grew up in poverty, living on scraps of food and the small amount of money he was able to pick up from the dirt. That is, until the day the current emperor, who was still a prince at the time, came upon him in one of the alleys, on the run from his guards. Wooyoung's dark fox eyes captivated him at once, and as if he had fallen under his spell, the emperor brought him back to the palace to be his concubine.

Wooyoung was a greedy concubine; there was always something that was not enough for him. He wanted to swim in luxury, to drown in gold and silk, to have diamonds, and to own the whole damn world. The best should be his, and so it was; the emperor gave him everything and more that Wooyoung had a desire for. And now you were in his sights. He wanted you so much that it ate him up from within and almost drove him mad, greedily and viciously, in the most horrible way in the world.

Yes, Wooyoung was greedy, and if he had to kill the Emperor to get you, he wasn't going to think twice about doing it.

One look at you could bring him to his knees. He would crawl to you like a pet if you commanded him to, and that desire was stronger than the hatred he felt for the whole of the world. You could tame his wild temper, and Mingi would want nothing more than for you to straddle him and ride his cock day and night, tearing the skin from his back and shoulders, choking him, and biting him until his will was broken. Mingi was uncontrollable and capricious, passion and fire raging in him, burning everything in his path, but your element was ice, burning him harder than hell itself.

Once upon a time, Mingi was a warrior, one of the great generals of his country, until the war came and destroyed his entire life. It took everything from him—his will, his family, his home. Yes, the war had taken everything from him except for the poisonous rage and the dark, vicious passion that was boiling in his veins. He was brought to the palace in chains like a slave, and that very night the Emperor took him by force and made him one of his concubines. This only made him bitterer.

Mingi was venomous and aggressive, biting and scratching until he bled, but you, you did something to him—you forced him into submission by your very presence, without him even knowing it. The wild, unbridled storm inside of him became the icy surface of the lake, soothing and healing. And Mingi wanted peace. He wanted the touch of your icy hands on his heated skin and cold kisses on his lips. He wanted you.

What is passion if not a flame that is a destroyer of all things on its way to its goal? And Mingi was full of fire to burn this damn palace to the ground to take possession of you.

He was sin clothed in a human body, debauchery and lust embodied in an image of heavenly beauty. The whole of Seonghwa's life had been nothing more than a constant stream of sex and an endless series of lovers. He could not get rid of this feeling; it was like frost on his skin. This constant, painful need was scratching him from the inside out. But when he saw you, all his thoughts were focused on you—on your pure, untouched skin that he wanted to lick and bite, on your slim waist that he wanted to squeeze as he fucked you continuously. On those red, seductive lips that would be simply amazing when wrapped around his dick. It was you he wanted, and for the first time in his life, Seonghwa wanted you to be the one. He didn't want anyone else, only you.

Before he entered the palace, he was one of the most sought-after whores in the brothel, famous for his devilish beauty and his languid, cat-like gaze. There was a line of people waiting for him, and Seonghwa was more than happy to accept them all. He was insatiable, wanting to fuck anywhere and anytime, trying the most sinful and unusual things. He was a real slut. But when the emperor heard about Seonghwa and visited his brothel one day, everything changed. Suddenly, he was no longer just a whore; he became Imeretar's concubine.

Seonghwa's hunger could not be quenched, and one partner would never be able to cope with it. But here you are, pure and radiant like an angel, beckoning him with your immaculate beauty. You were stronger than his dark, insatiable demon of lust. He wanted to corrupt you, to make you like him, and to make you dependent on him, just as he had become dependent on thinking about you.

It is said that whores don't know how to love, but they know how to desire. And there was enough darkness in Seonghwa to consume and destroy the world; to possess your purity and chastity. Then let the world be plunged into darkness until you are alone with him.

Yeosang had never been interested in anything at all. The world was too boring and dangerous for him. He could never care less about it. If he could, he would stay safe and comfortable in his bed for the rest of his life. You were different—distant and cold, but with an inexplicable thirst to live. You wanted to see all the things around you, to experience the cultures and the art. The world was interesting to you, and that was a source of irritation to Yeosang.

Everything about you was fragile and exquisite, and the fact that you didn't see it was what made Yeosang so angry. Don't you see, little butterfly, the world is terrible and dangerous. You would be much better off with him in his bed, far away from anything that could harm you in any way. Perhaps you would finally understand that you shouldn't run away from the safety and comfort of his bed if he were to break you. If that helped, Yeosang would want to destroy you and fuck your little curious brain until you thought only of him. He would spend hours warming you with his dick, days kissing your cold lips, and smothering you with his attention and love.

Yeosang was always aware that one day he would be part of the emperor's household. He had been prepared for this since he was a child, pampered and protected from the whole world, so that there would not be a trace of dirt on his silky, snow-white skin. Always waiting for the Emperor to visit his chambers and warm his soft bed, albeit temporarily. Yeosang almost never left his room, but like all concubines, he had to attend the Moon Festival. And that's when he saw his fragile butterfly. And like everything beautiful in this world, you were too easy to break. Yeosang wanted to protect you, hide you between his sheets, and shower you with care.

Yes, beautiful things broke easily, sometimes too easily—delicate butterfly wings, flower petals, crystal jewelry. But Yeosang wanted to see how the most beautiful thing in the world—human life—broke.

He wanted to eat you alive. Sinking his teeth into you and never letting you go, you awakened in him this wild, all-consuming hunger that he could not satisfy with anything else. You were the most delicious dish of all, and your taste was his only desire. San had always been a little insatiable, wanting more attention, wanting to love more, wanting to more sex, wanting everything this world had to offer him. It was never enough. You walked past him without even looking in his direction, the trail of your perfume settling on his skin and seeping into his body, poisoning him as you went. He wanted you to pay attention to him, to smile at him, to love him, to touch him. Oh, he would never let you go, he would fill you with his cum over and over again, and it wouldn't be enough for his taste. If he could, his dick would be in your pretty pussy all the time, so warm and delicious. He was in desperate need of you, he was hungry for you, and this hunger was all-encompassing.

Ever since he was a child, San had had a voracious appetite, always in need of a bigger and sweeter bite to temporarily fill the emptiness inside him that was growing with him. He had everything he could ever wish for; he had grown up in a loving and wealthy family with titles, but the dark hunger that plagued him was terrible. No matter what it was, he was always in need of more. So one day, when the emperor asked if he wanted to join his harem, San didn't hesitate to accept, but the hunger didn't go away.

You were the most delicious forbidden fruit of them all, and San was desperate to sink his teeth into you. He could almost feel the heavenly sweetness of you on his tongue, and it was driving him wild.

The sky could crash and burn all around him, and he wouldn't care, as long as you could fill him up and satisfy him.

There was no one in this world who could ever be like him. There was no one like Hongjoong. There was no limit to his pride and his greatness, and any praise You never praised him, you never sought his attention, and you were never enchanted by his sharp mind, his sweet voice, or his beauty, which could only be rivalled by the devil himself. And Hongjoong hated it. He hated how much he wanted your attention and your love. He wanted you to worship him, idolise him, and devote your whole life to him. He had to have you in all ways, even if those ways were darker than the night itself.Hongjoong wanted to see you in his golden bed, stretched out on the silk, while he was ravaging your body. He wanted to hear the endless moaning of his name as his cock tore apart the little cunt that was yours. He was in need of it, so much so that his whole body ached.

Hongjoong was a trophy of war, just like you. He was a real prince, who was supposed to be a king one day. His ego knew no bounds, and he was cruel and daring. Of course, the whole of the palace was conquered by the magnificent prince dressed in gold - all of them, except for you.

Yes, Hongjoong was a true prince, and one day he would overthrow the emperor and take his rightful throne, and like every emperor, he had to have his empress. You may not see him now, but the day will come when Hongjoong will be the only sunshine that illuminates your life. And he couldn't wait for it.

Yunho has never been the victim of jealousy. He has always been the recipient of praise and adoration, a constant reminder of how much he is loved. Yunho had no idea how jealousy could be. Or so he thought, at least.

That night, when he saw you in the light of the moon, he had hatred for the whole damn world. How dare he look at what belonged to him? He envied all those who could speak to you so freely; he envied all those who could pronounce your name; he envied his emperor, who did not appreciate your beauty and who humiliated you. Damn it, Yunho was jealous of the very air you were breathing. He desperately wanted to be him—to live inside you and melt into your skin. He wanted to melt into you without a trace.He would have loved to take you to his bed, to kiss every inch of your skin, to fuck you long and slow, and to shower you with compliments and praise. He would like to have you in his arms all the time, writhing and moaning with desire and need. For him, you are the only thing he needs in his life.

Yunho used to be just a servant in the palace. But he caught the Emperor's eye. That very night, he entered the emperor's chambers as his new concubine. Yunho knew about the others; he knew that he was not the only one, but that never bothered him; he was able to share the attention of the emperor. Except you. You were his own, and even the world was not worthy of seeing you.

It would be so easy to have the entire palace blinded, so that no one else but Yunho would have to see your celestial beauty.

Jongho was a man too proud for his own good. In his mind, it was beneath his dignity to pay attention to others and smile sweetly at them. Jongho was the spoiled, arrogant son of one of the most important palace officials, and when his father had the chance to get close to the emperor, he naturally gave him to the harem. But even so, he still considered himself to be better than everyone else, even Hongjoong, who was a prince in his own right.

Jongho was the one who first saw you, quite by chance, when he visited his father on the night you were appointed as the emperor's fourth wife. The Emperor was a real fool not to see how brilliant and magnificent you were—a real crown jewel. You were a symbol of power, strength, and might, an enslaved princess of a once great country, and a black flame of desire flared up in Jongho—he wanted to own you completely.

He wanted you for himself—your thoughts, your will, your body, and your life. He wanted you to sit by his side, to be covered with jewels, and to bear his children. It was easy for him to imagine his hand wrapped around your fragile throat as he fucked you into the mattress, you begging and moaning for him, wanting to be filled with his cum.

Fueled by his selfish desires, his fixation on you became increasingly harmful and dangerous.

Out of all the trophies in the world, there was nothing that was more attractive to Jongho than you. And on the way to what he wanted, murder was never a serious matter for him.

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

Text

mine of you with me

Been busy this week bc my ex is getting married and I have to go to the wedding. His fiancée (wife?) asked me to be there and I love her, so I said yes, but I regret it big time. Requests are still open! I’m working on the requests in my inbox, but wrote this to get it out of my system. It goes with/happens before “three times ‘cause I’ve waited my whole life.” Anyway. Here ya go. mine of you with me

You love going to Jamie’s games. You love watching him play his heart out on the pitch. It’s fun, being in the stands and screaming for Richmond. You wear his jersey (his actual jersey, one that he owns) and deck yourself out in Richmond gear. You think your favorite part, however, is sneaking around.

You’re dating Jamie Tartt, star footballer, and no one knows.

Today is a game against Crystal Palace. Jamie had left before you with a single “Bye babe,” and a kiss.

After he leaves, you debate stealing one of his orange kits (they’re the most comfortable) but decide against it. Too obvious to be in a sea of red and blue. You settle for a regular “Bantr” shirt and head out the door to meet Keeley.

Keeley and Rebecca were aware that you were with Jamie. Keeley, because Jamie swore you’d be best friends. Rebecca, because there was a ticket mixup and Keeley was busy so she sent Rebecca to the ticket booth to sort things out with “Jamie’s special guest,” which led Rebecca to be very surprised when she saw you instead of one of his family members.

It made things easier, really, to show up on Nelson Road under the guise of seeing Rebecca and/or Keeley. Time passed and it became less of a guise. You really enjoyed their company, and having someone to talk to about Jamie.

But here you are, back in the present, with Rebecca trying to convince you to sit in the box while Keeley threads blue, red, and gold through your hair.

You just laugh and hug them goodbye, heading your separate ways. Them, up; you, down.

You settle into your seat right up to the pitch, and wait for the game to begin. Jamie’s picked a seat that’s right where the teams line up, so you’ll get a good view of him before it starts.

Shortly after, the teams begin to walk out onto the pitch. You look for Jamie and catch his eye.

I like your hair, he mouths, pointing slightly to his own.

Thanks, you reply with a small grin.

Jamie gives you a look that says I’m going to be pulling it later so you return with one that means I was counting on it.

Is it bad that you two understand each others expressions that well?

No time to dwell on that, because the game’s beginning.

—

Richmond’s done alright, they haven’t lost necessarily, but they did tie. You can feel the tension through the building as you weave your way through players and staff, carrying a stack of papers from Higgins to Rebecca. You’re almost to the stairs leading up to her office when someone crashes into you, sending papers flying.

“I’m so sorry!” you say, “that is totally my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“No it isn’t,” a voice replies indignantly. “He was walking backwards!”

Jamie mumbles, “Shut up, Isaac,” while bending down to help you shuffle your papers together.

“Sorry about that,” he says softly. “Weren’t looking where I was goin’. I’m Jamie, by the way.”

He holds out his hand and you shake it, mentally commending his presence-of-mind to act like a stranger. “Nice to meet you, Jamie,” you reply. “I’m a friend of Rebecca’s.”

“He knows,” Colin pipes up, followed by an “Oi,” because Isaac smacked him.

“I’ve uh, got to go,” you say. “See you around.”

“See ya,” the lads chorus, Jamie watching you and Colin and Isaac watching Jamie.

Jamie turns around to see them grinning at him.

“Oi, what,” he says, hands in the air.

Isaac states, “You like her.”

Colin interjects, “Don’t even try to deny it, boyo, we saw how you looked at her. You think she’s fit.”

Jamie is sure he played it cooler than that. Maybe they just know him too well.

He laughs it off all the way to the locker room, changes, showers, and waits for Dani to walk out the door. They leave in a group, him, Isaac, Dani, and Colin, and as they turn the corner past the boot room you appear with Rebecca.

“Ladies,” Dani grins. Dani has a bit of a crush on you.

You and Rebecca smile back.

“Oi,” says Isaac, “do you want to join us tonight at the club? Trying to forget our tie streak.”

You open your mouth to decline when Rebecca replies, “We’d love to. I’m assuming Keeley will be there as well?”

“Becca,” you hiss, “I can’t go the club tonight.”

“Whyever not?”

You blush slightly. “I was planning on spending the evening with my boyfriend.”

The boys share furtive looks amongst themselves and not-so-subtly poke Jamie.

Rebecca says, “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to join you at the club. It’s settled, we’ll be there,” with a smile to the lads.

It takes every ounce of your willpower not to look at Jamie and to walk away with dignity.

“Did you hear that, Jamie?” Isaac asks, “She’s got a boyfriend. Sorry, mate.”

Jamie shrugs and does his best to look disappointed. “Must be a lucky man,” he says. “Now can we please go? My hair’s a fuckin wreck.”

“Mine too,” Dani says with a sorrowful shake of his head. They boys laugh and head out the door.

—

You’re at the club, standing at the bar with Rebecca. Jamie is there too, with the Richmond boys. Trent and Beard are there too, but Ted has opted to stay home. He’s not big into the club scene. Jamie’s sitting and laughing with the boys, but his eyes keep flicking over to you. Isaac notices and thumps him on the chest.

“Oi. She’s got a boyfriend, remember?”

Jamie nods and tears his eyes away from you.

“Dani, mate, you need a drink?” Jamie doesn’t even wait for a response before he’s out of his seat and headed over to the bar. Headed over to you.

Colin rolls his eyes, Isaac shakes his head, and Dani shrugs. “I cannot say no to a free drink,” he says.

Meanwhile, Jamie leans against the bar, holds up two fingers, then turns to you while waiting for his drinks. “Boyfriend didn’t show up?”

You grin and look around the room. “He’s here somewhere. We came separately. Not really sure where he’s gone off to.”

Jamie smiles back. “Not much of a boyfriend if he leaves someone as fuckin’ pretty as you at the bar all by herself.”

You shrug. “I’m with Rebecca. And he’s ok, I guess. When I find him, I’m going to tell him I’m leaving in fifteen minutes, and ask if he wants to meet at his place or mine.”

Jamie’s eyes become hungry. “His place. Definitely his. In fact, I think I just saw him slip out the door. D’you mind taking Dani his drink? You can have mine.”

You nod, unable to speak. Just a glint in his eye, and he’s become almost feral. You swear his teeth are pointier and your mouth goes dry.

Nice hair. I’m going to be pulling it later.

He’s gone before you can say anything else, and you have to press your hands to your face to cool down your cheeks.

Rebecca has been graciously pretending as though she can’t hear while scrolling on her phone. She looks up only when you grab Jamie’s drink, down it in a single gulp, and then pick up Dani’s.

She raises an eyebrow. “I take it I’m on my own for the rest of the night?”

You shake your head. “Isn’t Keeley here?”

There’s a ghost of a smile on Rebecca’s face. “Pretty sure she’s trying to take Roy home, so she is here in body but not so much in mind.”

You make what you hope is a neutral face. “Bec, you could get a man.”

She laughs. “Let’s get Dani his drink, shall we? I believe you’re leaving in twelve minutes.”

You set Dani’s drink down in front of him as Isaac asks, “Where’s your boyfriend? I thought he was supposed to be here.”

You shrug for the second time that night. “He had to go. I think I’ll be leaving soon too.”

There’s a chorus of wolf-whistles and you blush, again.

“Where did Jamie go?” Sam asks. “Did you break his heart that badly when he was flirting with you?”

You shake your head. You can feel Rebecca, poised as ever, next to you. It’s taking all your composure to maintain a straight face.

“I don’t- I’m not sure. He said something about training and sleep and I think he had to go? And I didn’t break his heart. He’s not into me.”

“Oh please,” Jan Maas speaks up, “His eyes follow you whenever you come to see Ms. Welton.”

You’re positive your face has caught on fire. “He just- he must- I don’t know. I have a boyfriend… He’s really great, and- I mean- I’ll talk to Jamie.”

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable,” Jan Maas shrugs. “It is just the facts.”

Sam puts his hand on your shoulder. “It is alright. We will take care of it. Jamie is the type of person who falls hard and fast, and sometimes he does not care if the other person is unavailable. He sees what he wants and just goes for it. It’s why he is such a good footballer.”

You smile. “Thanks, Sam. I should probably go.” You turn to Isaac and Colin. “Thanks for inviting me. I really did have a great time. And maybe next time you can actually meet my boyfriend.”

They wave, you poke Rebecca and glance at Sam, then head out, pretending you don’t see her panicked absolutely not face.

—

You text Jamie, I’m on my way, and he taps back with a heart.

Door’s unlocked he replies, and then you’re off.

He doesn’t live very far, so you’re at his house in no time at all. You can see a few dim lights on inside, so you walk up the steps and push the door open.

“Jamie?” you call, “I’m here!”

You hear his footsteps clamoring down the stairs and in a moment he’s on you, fingers threaded through your hair as you kiss. He’s pulling you close, impossibly close, then without warning he picks you up, bridal style. He’s still in his clothes from the club.

He kisses you all the way up the stairs, then places you on the edge of the bed.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he says, voice pitched low. “I fucking loved your hair.”

You shiver as he lifts your dress over your head and runs his knuckles along your sides. You note that the room is bathed in dim light, from candles Jamie has lit and placed around. There’s soft music playing somewhere and you’re honestly surprised he pulled this together in fifteen minutes. You look at him on his knees in front of you, one hand on your waist and the other on your thigh. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt then settle for lifting it over his head.

“God,” you say, “you’re beautiful.”

He smiles, eyes hungry again. He gently pushes you back down on the bed and climbs on top of you. “Pretty sure that’s my line, babe.”

—

You don’t really talk until you’re both laying under the sheets, hours later, arms wrapped around waists and shoulders and legs intertwined.

Jamie’s kissing a trail from your shoulder to your inner elbow when you whisper, “Babe.”

He hums softly. “Yeah?”

“Do you think- do you think you should tell the team about us?”

Jamie pulls back slightly so he can look into your eyes. “Where’s this coming from?”

You shrug as best you can between his arms. “I just think it would make things easier, you know? I mean, I still think sneaking around is sexy and all, but like- it’s just getting harder and harder around Nelson Road.”

Jamie kisses the tip of your nose. “Whatever you fucking want babe. I’d give you the keys to me house if you asked.”

You smile, then let yourself drift to sleep.

—

The next morning, Jamie makes his way to his locker and tapes up a new photo. He’s holding a girl in front of Big Ben, and they’re both laughing. It’s his favorite photo. Sam sneaks a look and then does a double take.

“Jamie,” he says, disbelief written on his face, “Is that Rebecca’s friend? When did you take that?”

There’s a clamor while the team crowds around Jamie’s locker, Jamie grinning smugly.

“She’s me girlfriend. Been dating for months now. Didn’t want her to be harassed by press and you lot, so we kept it a secret.”

“I fucking knew you liked her!” Isaac says. “Body language doesn’t fucking lie.”

Jamie shrugs. “Never said I didn’t.”

“What about her boyfriend?” Dani interjects. “Does he know?”

Jamie turns to look at him, trying to gauge if he’s serious or not. “Muchacho, I’m the boyfriend.”

“Ohhh,” Dani replies, “that makes much more sense!”

“Oi, you lot!” Roy shouts. “You can discuss Tartt’s love life after fucking training. Get on the fucking pitch!”

There’s a chorus of “Yes coach, sorry coach!”

Jamie takes one last look at your picture, grins, then follows the rest of the team out the door.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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nanamineedstherapy · 5 days ago

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Velvet Sin & Clandestine Vows - Getting *ahem ahemed* by Nanami in a bathroom at a billionaire's party!

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Minors DNI/Implied Cheating/Shameless Smut/My First Smut

Summary: Nanami X F!Reader Porn with plot if you squint Nanami at a bougie party? Weird. Nanami getting dragged into a bathroom with a woman who isn't his wife? Even weirder. What’s hotter than luxury, mystery, and terrible decision-making? Spoiler: nothing. Let the chaos (and a closet with better taste than Gojo) ensue. Or Getting Railed by Nanami in a bathroom at a billionaire's party! This fic started as a joke & spiraled into a mix of billionaire aesthetics, deadpan sass, & unhinged party vibes. Buckle up—it’s classy, messy, & totally Nanami-approved. 💅 #Rewritten since I hated the first draft. TW: Maybe Cheating

A/N: This is my first time writing smut of any kind so let me know if it hits the spot ( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖) Y’all, I swear, Nanami is loyal as hell, but who doesn’t love a little tension and mystery? If you’re living for the luxury or just here for the smut, drop a comment or a kudos—your chaos feeds mine. Cheers, besties! 🍸

The road twisted like a serpent through a dense forest, the towering pines stretching skyward, their shadows merging into a dark canvas under the fading sun. As Nanami’s Aston Martin DBS Superleggera glided past the last cluster of trees, the view opened into a scene pulled from the pages of an expensive dream.

The estate stood by a tranquil lake , its surface a sheet of liquid sapphire, mirroring the golden hues of the evening. The mansion, impossibly grand, didn’t merely rise—it commanded the horizon, almost otherworldly.

Towering walls of smooth stone enclosed the property, their minimalist design interrupted by intricate wrought-iron gates that whispered exclusivity rather than screamed it. AI-quipped security cameras, seamlessly embedded into the structure, blinking like mechanical sentinels, their presence a silent testament to caution wrapped in discretion. Guards in impeccably tailored suits patrolled the perimeter, some with guns, some with drones, some with androids, some with canines, their demeanor more akin to that of secret service agents than traditional staff.

The driveway stretched before him, a sleek ribbon of obsidian stone that gleamed like polished onyx under strategically placed lighting. The circular courtyard at the end was a gallery of excess : a Koenigsegg Jesko , a Bugatti Chiron , a Maserati Folgore , a Mercedes-Maybach S-Class , a Cadillac Celestiq , and a Rolls-Royce Phantom sat gleaming among other cars, their black, forest green or electric blue flawless exteriors reflecting the golden glow of vintage lampposts.

The lawns rolled outward like an emerald sea, interrupted by marble fountains with sculptures so detailed they seemed to breathe. At the edge of the estate, a private dock cradled a yacht —a floating palace that promised indulgence on the water. Above, the faint hum of helicopter rotors signaled rooftop landings, where multiple sleek, futuristic aircrafts waited in perfect formation.

The mansion itself was a contradiction brought to life. Its towering facade bore sharp lines and elegant curves, an architectural ballet where glass and steel met aged stone and brushed brass, each material woven into a seamless tapestry of power and refinement. High ceilings soared above, the kind that made you feel small without making you feel insignificant. The structure breathed genius—an intellect so vast it had turned ambition into reality.

As Nanami pulled up, the double doors opened before he even stepped out, as though the house had been expecting him. Inside, the ambiance shifted into a warm, inviting opulence. The grand hall shimmered under crystal chandeliers that fractured light into golden rain. Polished marble floors reflected the glow, amplifying the sense of space, while floor-to-ceiling windows turned the lake into a living painting framed by midnight silk drapes.

Walking in, he adjusted his Tateossian 18K gold cufflinks out of habit, the gold gleaming briefly in the chandelier light. The fabric of his Tom Ford silk Charmeuse shirt cooled against his skin as he rolled up his sleeves neatly, a testament to effort without indulgence. His tailored Mohair trousers—his entire outfit, his wife’s suggestion—fit him perfectly, a fact he acknowledged with a silent nod to her exquisite taste.

He knew she had spent more time selecting them than he ever would. She had an eye for these things, a maddening precision that made him trust her implicitly. He'd let her spend a good amount on tonight's party outfit to blend in with his office crowd, even though price tags were the least of his concerns. His wife, however, was a different story. Her taste was so particular that she rarely found anything worth buying at a store. But once she did, if it was casual, it would likely be inexpensive. However, if it was anything work- or party-related, it would undoubtedly carry a hefty price tag

The party coursed through the mansion like a heartbeat. In one ballroom , laughter mingled with the clinking of glasses as soft jazz played from hidden speakers. A smaller, more intimate space pulsed with energy, decked out like a private nightclub , where a few couples swayed to Spanish music under the prismatic glow of lights. Staff moved seamlessly among the crowd; their movements choreographed perfection, while their uniforms—a balance of practicality and haute couture—highlighted the wealth that surrounded them.

Each corner of the estate exuded thought and precision. From the soft, ambient lighting casting shadows on minimalistic art pieces to the way every surface seemed untouched yet lived in, the house wasn’t just a home; it was a living entity—one that whispered of brilliance, extravagance, and untold secrets.

Soon, before he knew it, corporate small talk had already grated on him; he’d barely resisted the urge to check his watch. Conversations about ‘exciting’ fiscal projections felt like sandpaper on his nerves, but years of navigating boardrooms had honed his stoic armor to perfection. He tilted his head just enough to feign interest in a junior analyst’s enthusiastic recounting of how they saved 0.5% on operational costs last quarter.

“Impressive,” he muttered, his voice so flat it was unclear whether he meant it or not. The analyst beamed anyway, oblivious.

His whiskey remained mostly untouched, a mere prop for these tedious rituals. He glanced down at the gold trim of the glass and thought fleetingly about hurling it through one of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows—not out of anger, but for something more stimulating than listening to Steve from Compliance recount his golf trip.

“Nanami-san!” Steve called out, loud enough to turn heads. “What’s your handicap? Bet you’re deadly on the green.”

Nanami turned slowly, blinking once as if the words needed extra time to register. “I don’t play golf, Steve,” he replied, deadpan. “I have a job.”

Steve’s laugh was loud and awkward, his ego crumpling in on itself. Nanami allowed himself a flicker of satisfaction before turning back to the entrance, silently daring someone interesting to walk in and save him.

A marketing executive drifted over, a glass of champagne precariously balanced in one hand, their other already extended for a handshake. “Nanami, old sport!” the exec crowed, as though they’d survived war trenches together instead of working in adjacent departments.

“Hardly,” Nanami said, shaking their hand briefly before folding his arms, an unmistakable signal that the conversation was over before it began.

Then the intern appeared like a fly buzzing near a fresh wound, her enthusiasm bordering on suffocation. “Nanami-san, you look great tonight,” she gushed. “Is that Tom Ford? I could tell from a mile away!”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes the moment he saw her making her way towards him from the other corner of the room. Her extremely short gold dress barely covered anything, highly inappropriate for co-worker parties. Where was HR when you needed them?

He regarded her with the kind of cool detachment that made people second-guess speaking to him in the first place. His response was little more than a nod, a gesture so dismissive it might as well have been punctuation. “Yes,” he replied curtly, sipping his whiskey for the first time just to end the interaction. The burn of alcohol was preferable to enduring another comment.

“I’ve never seen you in anything so... relaxed ,” she added, eyes wide as though he’d arrived in a Hawaiian shirt instead of a $25,000 ensemble.

Nanami considered a sarcastic remark— yes, I’m positively unhinged tonight with my gold cufflinks and tailored trousers —but decided against it. “Enjoy the party,” he said instead, his tone as warm as a January morning.

Her persistence, however, was unwavering, her enthusiasm grating on his last nerve. She was the type who delivered coffee he never asked for, lunches he didn’t need, flushed cheeks, and doe-eyed stares he couldn’t unsee. What he had initially dismissed as professional eagerness was now so obviously a crush that even the office ficus had likely noticed. He didn’t mind admirers so long as they kept their distance, but this one was suffocating. Tonight, he had a plan: feed her to his wife .

He let her ramble, tuning her out while his colleagues began their usual background drone: glowing self-praise about the last quarter’s financial performance. Occasionally, Nanami nodded, just enough to seem engaged while maintaining an expression that screamed, I’d rather be anywhere else .

Then a peer from Finance leaned in, his smirk as oily as his hair gel. “You’re quite the magnet tonight, Nanami. What’s your secret?”

“Competence,” Nanami replied, without missing a beat.

The peer’s laugh faltered into a cough as he quickly excused himself. Events like this always managed to sap what little energy he had left after work. First, they stole every waking moment with deadlines and deliverables, then they expected polite socializing in his so-called free time. It was, in his opinion, borderline sadistic. He took another sip of his whiskey, wishing—not for the first time—that he hadn’t shown up. He didn’t much care to mingle, despite appearances. These events were breeding grounds for insincerity, where pleasantries masked ulterior motives. His colleagues jumped him, juniors seeking advice on everything from office politics to investment strategies, while his peers probed for weaknesses under the guise of camaraderie.

Then, previously flanked by armed bodyguards, she walked in.

He felt it before he saw it—the slight shift in the room’s energy, the way conversations seemed to falter for half a second. When his eyes finally found her, it was like everything else dimmed in comparison.

Time didn’t stop—not in some romanticized way, but it slowed just enough to emphasize her entrance. Classy, confident, and untouchable. The sound of her heels on marble cut through the hum of conversation, subtle but commanding. The red rubies on her dress flowed like molten lava, catching the chandeliers’ light with every step. The slit revealed long, toned legs that seemed almost deliberately designed to catch the attention of every person in the room. Her movements were languid but purposeful, as though she were fully aware that the entire party had turned their focus toward her and didn’t mind in the slightest. The siren-like glint in her eyes warned anyone brave enough to approach.

Nanami’s grip tightened imperceptibly on the whiskey glass, his chest rising and falling in a controlled breath. His gaze locked on her instantly, though he couldn’t pinpoint what drew him first—the way her dress hugged her or the quiet authority in her stride. One moment, he was half-listening to his coworkers drone about quotas; the next, he was captivated .

“Who is she?” The intern whispered, her tone laced with poorly concealed jelousy.

Nanami didn’t look away, his gaze steady and unreadable. “Trouble,” he murmured, his voice low and even.

She didn’t need to seek attention—it sought her. Women flocked to her, showering her with warm greetings and effusive compliments. She reciprocated their affection with gracious smiles and her charm disarming even the iciest socialites. The men weren’t as brave, unsure whether to admire her or cower under her gaze—her siren-like aura daring any man to try their luck.

Except for one idiot.

Fucking Gojo.

Nanami’s jaw tightened as his white-haired colleague made a spectacle of himself, wrapping his arms around her from behind like an old friend reunited. Her face scrunched in irritation, a flash of disdain that Nanami couldn’t help but savor. But then she turned, her expression softening as she saw who it was. To his dismay, she hugged him back.

Nanami’s fingers curled harder around the glass of whiskey, the gold trim biting into his palm. Jealousy wasn’t his style— not like he wasn’t already married . But Gojo was a different story. The man had a knack for testing limits, his arrogance as boundless as his charm.

She, on the other hand, was the embodiment of contradictions: sharp yet soft, fun yet untouchable, her elegant demeanor veiling something far more dangerous. As if on cue, her eyes scanned the room lazily, not in search of anyone but allowing people to search for her.

And then their gazes locked. Her lips quirked into a knowing smirk, a silent dare.

Nanami’s breath hitched. Her smile—a challenge, a tease, a warning. His pulse quickened, a subtle betrayal against his otherwise calm exterior.

The intern beside him shifted uncomfortably, clearly feeling the weight of the unspoken connection between the two. Nanami almost pitied her. Almost. Definitely not.

His focus remained on the woman; she approached the bar with the kind of confidence that made the world rearrange itself around her. Even the bartender seemed to straighten his posture, offering her a champagne flute without so much as a question. Her long fingers, adorned with a curious glove-like jewelry piece , brushed the glass as she murmured her thanks, her tone effortlessly polite but laced with disinterest.

He didn’t notice the minutes slipping by; time blurred under the soft hum of chandeliers and the muted conversations he was no longer part of. Her every movement consumed his attention, the sway of her hips in that red silk dress a calculated provocation.

When she slipped through the gilded archway leading toward the bathrooms, his decision was already made.

Keeping his drink down, Nanami barely registered the figure stepping into his path until he heard the familiar sing-song voice that grated worse than nails on glass. “Nanami! Where’s your wife? Haven’t seen her yet tonight,” his rival cooed, wearing his trademark smug grin that Nanami fantasized about erasing.

“Still at work,” Nanami replied smoothly, his tone devoid of emotion but cutting enough to silence further prying. He didn’t slow, leaving behind muttered speculations about his sudden interest in someone other than his wife .

The hallways had the richness of the place amplified. The further he moved from the party, the quieter it became, the noise receding into a distant hum. The mansion’s grandeur became starker in the silence. High ceilings arched above, their ornate crown moldings gilded with gold that caught the soft light of sconces. The black marble floors shimmered under his polished shoes, stretching endlessly toward the private quarters. Staff passed like shadows flitting through the ethereal glow of this labyrinthine estate.

He paused in front of the bathroom door, glossy black with intricate gold fixtures, left slightly ajar as though inviting him in. The faintest sliver of light spilled out against the marble.

Knock. Knock. Two taps. Firm. Purposeful.

The response was immediate. The door cracked open, and before he could utter a word, her hand shot out, grabbing his shirt and yanking him inside with a force that surprised him.

The door closed behind them with a soft thud as he was shoved against it, followed by the decisive click of the lock. Her scent lingered in the air, both grounding and intoxicating, cutting through the bathroom . Then her mouth was on his, hot and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

“Not even a hello?” He murmured against her lips, his tone low, strained, yet laced with wry humor.

“Hello,” she whispered mockingly, her voice syrupy sweet, before pulling him back down. Her nails grazed the nape of his neck, sending an electric jolt through him.

Oh, she was definitely a siren. He thought as she drew him in with effortless ease, leaving him half-convinced she could drag him into the ocean and he’d thank her for it.

Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, deft yet impatient. When one refused to cooperate, she let out a soft growl, yanking hard enough to send buttons scattering across the tiled floor.

“They’re custom,” Nanami deadpanned, his voice thick with effort. “My wife chose them.”

“No wonder they’re ugly,” she shot back, her smirk as sharp as a blade. “Send me the bill.”

Her sass drew a low chuckle from him, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. She was cutting through his composure so easily, leaving him disarmed in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

In a swift motion, he flipped their positions, pinning her against the full-length mirror. Her front hit the glass with a muted thud, the chill drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. For a moment, he held her there, his gaze sweeping over her—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, pupils blown wide with a mix of defiance and desire.

His reflection caught his eye in the mirror—a man undone, his hair disheveled, his usually sharp expression softened by raw hunger. He barely recognized himself, and for some reason, that didn’t bother him.

“Temptress. You’ve already got me obsessed,” his voice dark as he leaned down to press his lips to the curve of her ear.

“Stop talking,” she countered, her tone dripping with impatience. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him groan softly.

He obliged.

The kiss turned feral, finesse abandoned in favor of raw, unfiltered need. His hands roamed, the fabric slipping against her skin like water.

Once she turned in his arms, more of his buttons clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the small space as she ran her fingers on his chest then abs. The room filled with their gasps and whispered curses, the sterile luxury of the bathroom a backdrop to the pandemonium unfolding. She took off her handpiece, chucking it on the counter just to feel his skin against her fingertips unhindered.

Her scent was everywhere now, filling his lungs, embedding itself in his memory. It was familiar in a way, like déjà vu dancing on the edge of recognition. Unsettling, magnetic, and impossible to ignore.

“Careful,” she murmured against his lips, her voice teasing. “You might just fall for me.”

Nanami pulled back slightly, enough to meet her gaze, his expression a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “Highly unlikely,” he replied, deadpan, though the corner of his mouth betrayed the faintest smirk.

“Your loss,” she quipped, her voice light, but her hands circled around his shoulders, pulling him back toward her.

Whatever this was—whatever dangerous game they were playing—Nanami knew one thing: he didn’t want it to end.

The bathroom’s air carried a subtle mix of sandalwood, bergamot and cedarwood, understated yet lingering—a scent that seemed designed to make every breath feel curated, the kind of understated opulence that whispered money rather than screamed it

Yet for all its grandeur, it wasn't the decor that took center stage. It was the mess unfolding next to the countertop, where passion replaced polish.

Nanami now had her pressed against the large, mirror-backed counter, its polished surface now marred with the aftermath of their urgency—smudged fingerprints, scattered toiletries, and the faint condensation of their mingled heat. The cool marble against her back seemed to amplify the fire between them.

His grip was firm yet restrained, one hand steadying her thigh while the other trailed upward, tracing the daring slit of her dress with deliberate slowness. His fingers paused at the neckline, the silk sliding under his touch like water. His hold spoke of possession, but his eyes, half-lidded and burning, betrayed something deeper—curiosity, defiance, and a hunger he rarely let surface.

She kissed him again, her lips a demand he had no intention of denying. Teeth scraped against his lower lip, the sting pulling a soft groan from him that melted into a low chuckle. His hands roamed with precision, finding her waist, her hips, her breasts—each touch firm, unapologetic, and met with a sharp inhale or muffled moan. Every touch was a battle for dominance, each moment teetering on the edge of control and disarray.

He lifted her with ease onto the countertop in one fluid motion. The chilled mirror behind her elicited a gasp as her dress slid higher at her thighs. Her legs tightened instinctively around him, pulling him closer.

“Not bad,” she teased breathlessly, her voice a mix of amusement and provocation.

Nanami’s lips quirked into a rare smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “I aim to impress.”

Her laugh was soft, intoxicating, and far too knowing. “You’re getting there.”

Her scent enveloped him now—a crisp, briny ocean breeze tinged with something wild and woody, a sharp contrast to the muted, earthy warmth of the bathroom. It was a siren’s scent, designed to disarm, to enthrall, and it worked far too well.

The sounds of their frenzy filled the room, chaotic yet rhythmic. Her nails dragged along his back, leaving faint crescent imprints as if marking her territory.

Then, with a devilish smirk, he dropped to his knees, his large hands splaying across the backs of her thighs.

“On your knees already?” She started, her voice faltering as he pushed the fabric of her dress higher. His lips ghosted over her inner thigh, his breath warm and teasing.

“You talk too much,” he murmured, his tone flat but edged with mischief.

Her laugh turned into a gasp as he tore through the delicate lace of her underwear with his teeth, the sound of ripping fabric punctuated by her sharp intake of breath.

His mouth found her core, hot and demanding; his tongue moved with deliberate precision, drawing broken whispers from her lips. Her fingers tangled in his hair, long nails digging into his scalp as she arched into him, every nerve alight with sensation.

Each touch was a battle for dominance, each moment teetering on the edge of control and chaos. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady as she raised her head, her eyes wide at the sight of him.

When his fingers joined the fray—one, then two, then three—she let out a muffled cry, her hands trembling as they gripped his hair tighter. The rhythm turned torturous, each stroke a ploy to keep her teetering on the edge.

“Quiet,” he murmured against her, though the command was half-hearted at best.

Her laugh, shaky and breathless, cut through the haze. “Make me.”

He obliged, taking off his shirt & shoving it into her mouth to muffle her moans.

The room, a masterpiece of design and decadence, bore silent witness to their undoing. The perfection of its lines, the care in its curation—all of it had melted away, leaving only raw, unbridled chaos in its place.

When she finally collapsed against the mirror, her breath came in uneven bursts, fogging the glass behind her. Her flushed face, her dress still bunched at her waist, chest rising and falling as aftershocks wracked her frame left her looking like Mayhem personified. Still, he didn’t stop, his tongue lapping up every drop of her release like she was the finest wine.

Her body trembled, hips bucking against his mouth. His tongue and fingers were moving in perfect harmony. Her mewles grew higher in pitch, her body arching further as the tension began to pool in her belly.

Nanami’s grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady as her body trembled beneath him. Her moans, muffled by his discarded shirt, vibrated against his chest as he felt the waves of her release pulse through her. She clawed his scalp, a claim he wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t enjoy.

Few moments passed, & Nanami stood, brushing the back of his hand against his lips, catching the faint taste of her. He was the picture of disheveled restraint—his hair tousled, his chest bare, and his trousers hanging low on his hips. The hunger in his eyes, however, was anything but restrained.

His gaze lingered on her as he reached for the straps of her dress. Tugging them down, he exposed her bare chest, the fabric sliding away like water until it pooled uselessly at her waist. Her breasts bounced with the movement, drawing a low growl from him that rumbled deep in his chest.

“Perfect,” he muttered, his voice gravelly as he leaned down. His lips closed over one breast, flicking her nipple with his toung, while his hand found the other, his touch alternating between firm and teasing. She gasped, her back arching off the mirror as he bit gently before soothing with his tongue, leaving her gasping & mumbling incoherently, her voice ragged but threaded with laughter—the kind that would have thrown a lesser man off balance. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” She spoke against the fabric in her mouth.

He paused, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “You started it.”

She smirked, sharper than the edge of the counter, biting into her legs. “And I’ll finish it.” She gestured.

Her hands fumbled with his waistband, still trembling but determined. The flicker of impatience in her eyes was oddly endearing, though he’d never admit it. Nanami stepped back slightly, watching as she struggled with his belt, her fingers clumsy but relentless, then the same belt clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the small space.

When she finally freed his cock, her hand paused holding it, her eyes widening as her lips parted slightly.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased, his voice dropping into that smooth, sardonic tone.

“Shut up,” she muttered, voice muffled by the shirt.

He bit down lightly on her neck, one hand busy kneading her breast, while the other left faint crescent moons in the flesh of her ass.

Despite her reservations, her hand moved, slow at first, tentative strokes exploring him with a curiosity that bordered on reverence. The low "fuck" that escaped his lips emboldened her, and her fingers became bolder—squeezing at the tip, letting her thumb tease the slit, earning sharp hisses from him.

His control, usually ironclad, wavered, catching himself before her touch unraveled him entirely.

“Enough,” he growled, his hand wrapping around hers as he guided his cock to her.

She braced herself, her legs parted further instinctively as Nanami growled, guiding his cock toward her slick entrance. She mewled softly as he deliberately didn’t push in, instead teasing her, the thick head of his cock gliding against her swollen folds. The wet slide was maddening, the tension building as he refused to give her what she wanted. Her breath coming in shallow bursts as the tension coiled between them like a spring wound too tightly. Her eyes flashed with impatience, and the look of anger made him smirk through his own restraint. Then she hissed something, muffled, her voice low and threaded with irritation.

Nanami’s smirk was infuriating. “Patience.”

That patience didn’t last long. With a sharp thrust, he pushed inside her, his jaw clenching as she clenched around him, her walls tight and pulling him deeper. He moved slowly at first, letting her adjust; the intensity of the moment mirrored in their matched gasps and muffled curses.

Once he was fully sheathed, the restraint snapped. He withdrew almost completely before slamming back in, forcing a loud, uncontrollable moan from her.

His pace turned brutal, his hips slamming against hers with a force that made the marble countertop tremble beneath them. Her cries morphed into curses, each one sharp and biting, and directed at him with a venom that only fueled his hunger.

“You—oh my God—” she let out a muffled gasp, head falling back against the mirror as he drove her higher.

Nanami leaned down, yanking the shirt from her mouth as he captured her lips in a messy, heated kiss. Her teeth immediately bite his lower lip, drawing blood, but he didn’t care. Their tongues clashed, the kiss more battle than affection, each one pushing and pulling, neither willing to yield.

Breaking away to catch his breath, Nanami's thrusts didn’t falter.

“Still talking?” he muttered against her lips.

“Shut up,” she replied, biting him again, the taste of him & herself lingering on her tongue.

His hips slammed against hers, forcing cries from her throat. Her nails raked down his back, desperate, as though she needed them to fuse on a molecular level.

Despite his relentless pace, his lips softened, trailing kisses along her jawline, down her neck, and finally to her breasts. He nipped and sucked at the delicate skin; his attention split between breaking her apart with his cock and worshipping the parts of her he loved most.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room—a brutal rhythm that matched the pounding of her heartbeat. His hands roamed over her body, his nails leaving faint crescent moons in her thighs, her back, wherever he could reach.

Her body arched into him, trembling & walls tightening as another wave of pleasure threatened to overtake her. He knew she was close; his hand slid between them, his fingers finding her clit and circling it with a precision that left her gasping.

Her reaction was instant as she came with a sharp, keening cry, muffled when he cupped a hand over her mouth, entire body clenching around him as her nails dug into his shoulders.

“She’s sucking me in... so tight,” he murmured, voice hoarse, as his control finally broke. Movements turning erratic as he buried himself deep, his groan muffled against her neck. His eyes fluttered shut as his own climax surged through him, leaving him breathless and trembling. He barely managed to catch himself before collapsing onto her as the aftershocks rolled through him.

Two forces of chaos colliding. Neither of them moved, just staying for a bit; she rubbed his back as they caught their breaths, the occasional tremor running through her as she adjusted to the lingering sensitivity.

The bathroom was a battlefield of indulgence and chaos. Perfume bottles lay toppled on the black marble counter, the delicate crystal shimmering under the ambient lighting. A faint mist lingered in the air, clouding the oversized mirror that stretched from floor to ceiling, capturing distorted reflections of disheveled hair, flushed skin, and heat that had yet to fully dissipate. The mingling scents of bergamot, cedar, and salt—the sharp tang of the ocean—clung to the air, layered with the undeniable intimacy of their aftermath. Despite the mess around them, the silence between them felt clean, untouched by the outside world.

Soon her fingers were idly tracing patterns on his back, grazing over faint red marks she’d left moments before. When she finally broke the silence, her voice was teasing but warm, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Your technique hasn’t changed.”

Nanami froze, the words cutting through the lingering haze like a cold blade. He pulled back just enough to study her face, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“You heard me,” she replied, her tone deliberate and light as she brushed her fingers along his jaw. Her touch was deceptively soft, almost disarming.

Before he could spiral into overthinking, she laughed—a sound both melodic and cutting, slicing through his composure with surgical precision. “Relax, Mr. Nanami,” she teased, her lips curling into a smirk. “I’m just grateful for the first million you invested in my company when no one else would even hear me out.”

The tension in his shoulders eased as realization dawned, corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. “Mrs. L/N,” he said dryly, his voice laced with equal parts amusement and exasperation. “Should I prepare my chequebook again?”

“Always,” she quipped, her smirk softening as she leaned up to kiss him. Her lips brushed against his with a familiarity that belied the game they’d been playing all evening.

“You’re still mine, Kento,” she murmured against his ear—almost biting them, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

Straightening himself, hand lingering at her waist, he pulled her closer to hold as the reality of her presence grounded him. When they finally pulled apart, her tone shifted. “Nice house, by the way.”

“Thank you, Mrs. L/N,” he replied, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. The simple gesture felt intimate, grounding, a contrast to the disarray they’d left in their wake. He arched a brow, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Though I do have to ask—what was the dress for?”

Her smirk deepened, her silence deliberate.

“Y/N,” he pressed, his voice carrying a mix of affection and exasperation. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“I was informed that you looked miserable out there,” she said simply, shrugging with nonchalance that only made her look more self-assured. “Your coworkers are vultures. I couldn’t just stand by and watch you suffer.”

His exhale was slow, measured, but his forehead dropped against hers, his voice softening. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me plenty,” she countered, her hands sliding over his chest with a teasing confidence. “But I’m not done yet. My company just hit a billion-dollar valuation, which means—"she smirked, her tone mock-serious—"you can finally quit working for those corporate overlords. Effective immediately.”

Nanami blinked, her words settling in slowly. Just as he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off with a single raised finger.

“And don’t start with the ‘backup plan’ speech,” she added, rolling her eyes in dramatic exasperation. “I’ve secured enough for the next fifteen generations to sit around and squander. You’re free, Ken. ”

He let out a long exhale, relief washing over him like a tide pulling him out to calmer seas. His hands tightened gently at her waist as he pulled her closer, his forehead brushing hers again.

“I can finally retire,” he mused, a rare chuckle breaking the steady timbre of his voice. “What a dream.”

Her grin was wicked and teasing. “Don’t worry, I’ll deck you out with butlers, drivers, private pilots—the works.”

He shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” she said, her voice lighter now, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw before stepping down. She fixed her dress, the fabric shimmering under the soft lighting as if it had never been touched. After quickly rinsing & drying her hands, she shuffled for something in the drawer below the sink counter, then gestured Nanami to turn around, who obliged and then winced as she sprayed antiseptic healing spray on her nail scratches on his back. Then, putting it back with one hand while she rubbed his shoulder with the other, soon she adorned her handpiece again.

“Now, pack your bags. We’re going on a month-long vacation. We’ve barely seen each other this quarter.” Her tone practical, though the playful glint in her eyes was still sparkling while Nanami, who knelt on one knee to zip up her askew heels with a gentle touch. This was a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor; he radiated a quiet eagerness to serve her, even if she had never asked for it—or even forbade him from kneeling—for anyone, including herself. His care for her was unwavering, as he found joy in these small devotions.

Raising up to his full height, Nanami tilted his head, arching a brow. “When do we leave?”

“An hour.” Her smirk was maddeningly smug, the kind that always made him want to both kiss her and roll his eyes. “Don’t worry about clothes—we’ll buy what we need when we get there.”

His frown deepened slightly, his gaze flicking toward the door. “The house is still full of people.”

She waved a hand dismissively, her confidence unshakable. “The white-haired menace can handle it.”

As if summoned, a sharp knock echoed against the ornate black and gold bathroom door.

“Nanami,” Gojo’s unmistakable voice called out, muffled yet infuriatingly cheerful. “I know you told me not to disturb you, but if you want to leave on time, you should probably come out now.”

Nanami groaned audibly, burying his face in her hair. “I hate that he knows us so well. Or worse, that he was probably hovering outside.”

Her laugh bubbled up, light and unrestrained, as she turned to press a soft kiss to his nose. “Good thing no one will know,” she teased, her tone laced with mischief as she nodded toward the party still raging beyond the door.

“Small mercies,” he muttered. His hand reached down, scooping up her ripped panties. He shoved them into his pocket—a gesture equal parts practical and ridiculous. Housekeeping didn’t need to discover that.

He reached for his ruined shirt & still-ok belt while his cufflinks were probably lost to the similarly colored lines in the bathroom floor’s marble. Sighing, he shrugged the shirt on. With most of the buttons broken, the fabric barely clung to him, but he managed enough to appear vaguely presentable, then did his belt & washed his hands. Before stepping out, he winked at her, his rare smirk making her laugh again as she leaned on the counter, ogling him.

Walking out of the bathroom, Nanami was immediately engulfed by the sheer scale of the mansion. The vaulted ceilings soared above him, an intricate lattice of brass and black lines reminiscent of sharp geometry. Recessed lighting cast a warm, almost ethereal glow over the polished marble floors, their obsidian surface streaked with veins of gold that seemed to shimmer with every step.

Security was seamlessly integrated into the decor—discreet cameras nestled within decorative sconces, motion sensors hidden within the intricate carvings of doorframes, and biometric panels that blended effortlessly with the black lacquered walls.

Gojo leaned casually against the wall near the bathroom door, his smirk as sharp as the lapels on his bespoke electric blue suit. “Well, well,” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “Looks like someone had a productive break.”

Nanami cast him a withering glare, brushing past him without a word.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo called after him, clearly undeterred. “Your secret’s safe with me. Well Mostly .”

Nanami strode into his bedroom, its absurd luxury understated yet undeniable once he unlocked it’s door with his thumb. Warm recessed lighting bathed the space in a golden hue, highlighting the polished marble floors and the California king bed draped in silk sheets that whispered decadence with every subtle fold. The walls were a study in contrasts—one side a sweeping expanse of black glass overlooking the estate, the other adorned with minimalist art deco patterns in gold and dark maroon.

A walk-in closet occupied one corner of the room, its glossy black doors sliding open with a faint hum. Rows of designer suits, pressed shirts, and tailored trousers moved along tracks, neatly organized by color, fabric, and season. It wasn’t just a closet—it was an AI-driven sartorial fortress.

Gojo trailed behind Nanami, Martini glass in hand, his ever-present grin practically glowing under the warm light of the bedroom.

Nanami shrugged off his ruined shirt, revealing faint nail marks trailing down his back.

Gojo’s exaggerated gasp was immediate. “Knew you were freaks,” he declared, grinning like a cat who’d just discovered a fresh bowl of cream.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nanami replied, his tone dry as he waited for the first shirt the AI closet presented.

The automated system whirred softly, its sleek black panels sliding open to reveal a neatly arranged selection of tailored clothing. The closet’s AI chimed in, its voice smooth and masculine: “Good evening, Mr. Nanami. May I suggest the Maurizio Miri blue Sam Arold , double-breasted blazer for optimal sophistication?”

“No, a white shirt will be enough for now. Thank you.” Nanami replied smoothly as the closet handed him the shirt.

Gojo’s eyes lit up. “Hold up, your closet talks?”

Nanami buttoned up the crisp white shirt, the fabric molding to him like it had been made yesterday, which it probably had been. A subtle reminder of how far he—and this house—stood from anything resembling average. “Of course it talks. Everything here does. Wife is particular about it,” he muttered, casually pulling out a certain incriminating piece of fabric from his pocket & tossing it into the hidden incinerator bin while Gojo eyed the AI.

Then Gojo leaned closer to the closet; his curiosity piqued. “Hey, Mr. Closet—do you take orders? I need something that makes me look like a billionaire without actually trying. Extra points if it comes with a holographic logo of the Gojo Clan.” Gojo didn’t have such bad likes; he just enjoyed being a menace.

The AI responded without missing a beat. “My name is Winston, & I’m sorry, sir. My services are exclusive to Mr. Nanami. While I assure you, no attire could enhance perfection.”

Nanami’s lips twitched as he fought back a smirk. “Even the closet knows you’re insufferable.”

“Hey, I like this guy!” Gojo shot back, pointing at the sleek black panel like it was a long-lost friend. “At least he has taste.”

The AI, apparently more than willing to engage, added, “Taste, sir, is precisely what you lack.”

Nanami turned away, struggling to suppress his laughter, as Gojo gawked. “Traitor! I’m officially boycotting this brand,” Gojo declared, though his curiosity kept him glued to the closet. “Btw what brand are you.”

Nanami smacked his arm. “Do you forget my wife invents AIs for a living, among other things?”

Gojo shrugged, “I didn’t know it was one of hers.”

As Nanami folded his sleeves up again, Gojo shot one last look at the closet. “You’re lucky I’m a forgiving man, Mr. Closet-Winston. Once I babysit this house, bet you’ll miss me when I leave.”

“I highly doubt that,” the AI replied, its tone impossibly smooth.

Gojo huffed, muttering something about finding an AI closet with better taste, while Nanami finally allowed a small smirk to surface.

Once out of the closet, Gojo chirped, “Aren’t you going to thank me for organizing this amazing party?”

Nanami took the whisky glass Gojo handed him, savoring a slow sip. “Thank you, Gojo, for organizing this party,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s not like we paid for it or anything.”

“Fair,” Gojo replied, recovering quickly with a shrug. “But I still expect to cash in the favor someday.”

Nanami nodded, flooding his sleeves with practiced precision before striding back toward the party.

Gojo followed on his heels like an overenthusiastic puppy, Martini in hand. Then looking back at the sentinel closet, he mused. “I need one of these. Think the wife will help me place an order?”

“She’s not your wife,” Nanami deadpanned, savouring the whisky burn as he sipped.

Once they had stepped into the grand ballroom, Nanami’s gaze swept over the room. Gojo, meanwhile, leaned in conspiratorially.

“So,” he began, his grin as infuriating as ever, “how was she?”

His gaze immediately found her. She stood along the far wall; an expansive bar carved from obsidian and gold stood like a centerpiece, its surface laden with bottles of rare vintages.

He didn’t falter in his reply, expression flat. “She’s a woman, Gojo. Not a secret.”

Gojo smirked as Nanami ignored the conspiratorial knowing smirks and whispers that seemed to surround him.

His gaze lingered as she laughed warmly, her head tilted slightly, the sound unguarded and genuine. She was speaking to two women he vaguely recognized as the CTO and CFO of her company, their expressions a mix of respect and admiration. For a moment, he simply watched. Despite himself, Nanami felt a rare sense of pride.

Just as he was about to make his way to her, a voice sliced through the moment.

“Nanami-san! There you are!”

The same intern with an unfortunate crush on him had caught sight of him again, waving over one of her equally annoying cohorts, a smug backstabbing bitch of a coworker Nanami didn’t even bother to remember the name of. They approached like vultures, the intern’s over-the-top enthusiasm clashing painfully with the coworker’s grimey smirk.

“Nanami-san!” she chirped, clasping her hands together. “This house is incredible! You must feel so inspired here.”

“I feel inspired to have another drink,” Nanami deadpanned, raising his glass slightly before taking a sip.

The coworker, clearly fishing for gossip, leaned in. “Yeah, no kidding. So, where’s your wife we’ve all heard so much about?” He practically sang the last part, his tone dripping with mockery. “Must be so busy to miss an event like this.”

Listening to this, Gojo moved closer to Nanami’s side like chaos incarnate, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Oh, you haven’t met her yet?” he asked, his grin practically weaponized. “Tsk, tsk, Nanami, keeping secrets from your best friends .”

The coworker scowled at the jab.

The intern blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. Nanami bit back a smirk, swirling his whisky lazily in his glass.

When the intern finally recovered, her tone turned defensive. “Well, he’s never mentioned her to me!”

Nanami’s expression darkened, his patience stretching to its breaking point. One thing he wasn’t—had never been—was unfaithful. And this implication, no matter how cluelessly delivered, crossed a line.

Yet Gojo wasn’t finished. He turned his full attention to the intern, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. “You know, he does talk about her all the time. But I guess you two must not hang out much, huh? Just acquaintances, then.”

“Excuse me?” Nanami’s voice was sharp, each syllable cutting.

The intern, oblivious to the shift in tone, pressed on. “You never mentioned you were married—”

“Please,” arching a brow, he interrupted, his expression one of detached amusement. “Do not imply that I’ve hidden my marriage. I’ve been married for years and have never avoided speaking about my wife when asked. If you’re unaware, perhaps that says more about you than it does about me.” Each word measured and sharp. It’s not like he cared to keep his job anymore anyway.

The intern blinked, stunned into silence.

Gojo erupted into laughter, clapping him on the back. “Kento, you’re killing it tonight. Who’s next on the chopping block?”

Without waiting for a response, Nanami brushed past them, his focus already shifting back to her. Gojo, naturally, wasn’t done yet. Turning back with a smirk, he delivered one final dig.

“He talks about her all the time with his friends. Trust me, I’d know since I’m his best friend. I know all his secrets ,” he said lightly. “Guess you’re just colleagues.” Nanami could hear the mockery directed at his coworkers, with a hint of possessiveness over their friendship in Gojo’s voice, along with the intern’s sputtering, behind him.

Once he approached, his hand slid around her waist, the gesture subtle yet unmistakable. It wasn’t a public claim so much as a quiet reassurance, a tether grounding him in the chaos of the room.

She turned to him, her smirk softening into something more intimate as she acknowledged the unspoken exchange.

“Hello,” he murmured, inclining his head with a faint smile toward the women she’d been speaking with. They were better than his coworkers; hence they were hired.

As Gojo approached them behind Nanami, she introduced him smoothly, her tone warm yet commanding. “Ladies, my closest friend, Gojo Satoru.”

Gojo’s professional smirk slipped into place with practiced ease. “A pleasure,” he said simply, his arm resting on Nanami’s shoulder again.

The conversation progressed for a bit before the sound of glass clinking drew their attention.

“Everyone!” Gojo’s voice rang out, cheerful and uncontainable. He was sitting atop the bar, manspreading, grin wide enough to rival the chandelier’s glow. “A toast to the lovely couple!”

Heads turned toward them, though many had already been stealing glances at her all evening while others were glaring daggers at Nanami.

Nanami cleared his throat, voice steady, effortlessly commanding the room. “Thank you all for coming to our housewarming party,” he began, his tone formal but with a warmth that felt uncharacteristic. His hand rested securely on her waist. “For those of you who don’t know, this is Y/N L/N. She’s my wife. She’s the one who bought us this house.”

A ripple of polite claps followed, though Nanami wasn’t finished.

“She hasn’t visited my office because she’s been working tirelessly on her company, Curse Cop, which, as of today, has officially reached a billion-dollar valuation.” He paused, his voice softening as he glanced at her, unguarded admiration flickering across his face. “Please, drink to your heart’s content, because starting tomorrow, I’ll be on vacation with her—and I’ll also be stepping down as Finance Director to spend more time with my wife, as I promised her.”

The room erupted in applause and a few ‘awws’ from mostly female guests, though Nanami barely noticed. His focus remained on her as she looked up at him, her expression a blend of amusement and affection.

From somewhere behind them, he heard whispers, envy poorly concealed.

“How’d he even get with her?” one muttered.

“It makes sense,” another replied begrudgingly. “He’s the kind of man every woman wants.”

But none of it mattered. Nanami leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips, as if the room around them didn’t exist.

For him, in that moment, it didn’t.

Soon the evening had progressed—Nanami was comfortably leaning against the bar, whisky in hand, Gojo, still on top of the bar, flanking him as usual, when the intern caught sight of Y/N between them.

She stumbled her way toward her, clearly drunk, with newfound boldness, her barely-there dress doing little to enhance her sense of professionalism. Nanami’s lips twitched as he watched the scene unfold, hiding his amusement behind his glass. He wasn’t much for unnecessary public fights, but he was waiting for this one since she had really become a nuisance for him over the months, hence the reason she was invited today.

“Y/N,” Gojo whispered, sidling closer to her as she inquired about the launch of their latest multiplayer game with the COO of her company. “See that girl over there?”

Pausing, she glanced over, her brow arching slightly as she clocked the intern making a beeline toward her.

“That one’s been after Kento for months,” Gojo murmured, his grin wicked. “Unrequited coffee deliveries, surprise lunches... the works. You’re about to have front-row seats to her grand finale.” He had noticed it all while visiting Nanami’s office, along with Nanami’s look of frustration when she wouldn’t take the hint and leave him alone.

Y/N didn’t miss a beat, her expression remaining poised as she turned fully to face the intern. The air around her seemed to shift, her unapproachable aura sharpening to something razor-edged.

The intern, blissfully unaware, extended a hand, her confidence teetering on arrogance. “Hi! I’m Nat. I work closely with Nanami-san in finance. It’s so great to finally meet you.”

Y/N’s gaze flicked briefly to the outstretched hand before returning to the intern’s face, her expression neutral but distinctly unimpressed. “Oh?” she said coolly. “And what are you to him?”

The intern faltered, her hand dropping slightly. “I... like I said, I work with Nanami-san! He’s been so helpful to me in the office. Such a great mentor.”

Turning his head from his vantage point, Nanami’s smirk widened as he took another slow sip of whisky. He had actively avoided helping her since he discovered her hidden agenda.

“Is that so?” Y/N replied, tilting her head slightly. “And what exactly have you learned from him?”

The intern brightened, eager to elaborate. “Oh, just... everything, really! He’s so dedicated and focused. I can see why you married him.”

There was a pause—a beat of silence that stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable. Then Y/N smiled, and it wasn’t kind.

“I see,” she said, her tone dripping with polite venom. “And yet, here you are, at a party in our house, introducing yourself to me like you’re a stranger. How odd for someone who claims to work so ‘closely’ with my husband.”

The intern’s expression wavered, a flicker of panic breaking through her confident facade. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” Y/N interrupted smoothly, her smile widening. “To sound presumptuous? To overstep? Or to assume familiarity where there is none?”

Gojo, now openly laughing, gestured to Nanami, “Remind me never to piss your wife off.”

The intern stammered something unintelligible before finally scoffing & retreating, her confidence crumbling as she melted back into the crowd.

Y/N turned back to the COO, now flanked by CTO and CFO without so much as a backward glance as they dragged her off to introduce a potential investor, the conversation resuming as if nothing had happened.

Turning straight, Nanami finally let his smirk show, raising his glass toward Y/N in a silent toast.

She caught his eye, the faintest curve of her lips betraying her amusement, before she returned her attention to her companions.

“Worth every penny,” Gojo muttered under his breath, clinking his glass against Nanami’s.

“Agreed,” Nanami replied, his tone calm but his eyes glinting with mirth.

A/N: You thought Kento would cheat huh ☜(ˆ▿ˆc) Thanks for diving into this tangled mess of lust & love. If you caught the twist & liked it (or even hated it), drop a comment. I live for your chaos & crave your feedback like Nanami craves his wife. 🖤

Masterlist

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yourlittlebunnyy · 3 months ago

Text

Snow

main masterlist - kallias masterlist

summary: You loved each other, Suspended on a thread, Of snow.

warnings: death, happy but also not very happy ending

w/c: 4k

a/n: this fic is basically "snow" by maxence fermine

enjoy! 🤍

Your son decided to return to visit his now elderly father, who had retired to the top of a mountain.

At dawn he left the palace. Saying goodbye to his friends and his mate, he made his way north.

It was a journey to the sun of his heart. The purity of the world and of the light offered themselves to his gaze.

As he walked with slow steps along the road he felt a pure and shimmering joy. He was free and happy. He carried with him as his only baggage the gold of faith and his love for his father.

But what was to come happened. Wanting to love the snow of his Court too much, he forgot to fear it. And it almost devoured him with its love.

While crossing a mountain, he lost himself and his luggage in a terrible snowstorm. He fell prey to the fury of the elements and barely managed to save himself through makeshift shelter.

Your son found shelter under the overhang of a cliff, sheltered from the wind, and there, shivering with cold, at the end of his strength, alone in the thick of darkness, alone in the depths of the snow, alone in the vertigo of his loneliness, alone in his silence, where he could have died a hundred times of cold, hunger, fatigue, disappointment and exhaustion, he survived.

He survived because what he saw that night, that thing, that extraordinary thing that came from afar, that sublime and beautiful thing was the most beautiful and sublime image he had ever been allowed to see in his entire life. And that image he could never forget again.

That thing so beautiful was you. When your son crouched beneath the rocky overhang, you were there before his eyes. You looked as fragile as a dream. Remained forever a young female, clothed only in a light white robe despite the great cold. You were dead. And you were resting under a meter of ice.

You were not really resting. You were dead. But your coffin was as transparent as crystal. Your son immediately felt connected to you, a total stranger.

For him it was not like standing in front of a dead body. Yours was not an ordinary death. You were a wonderful presence.

First of all, you were wearing only a light robe. What were you doing, dressed like that, under three feet of ice? This was the first question that came to his mind. But he could not find an answer.

Where were you from? How long had you been a prisoner of that transparent, perennial trap? And, come to think of it, were you real?

You, the young female trapped under the ice, seemed to him as fragile and tender as a dream. The radiance of your golden hair responded like a flashlight flame. You clearly did not belong to his Court. Your eyelids, though closed, allowed the icy blue of your eyes to shine through, as if the wear and tear of the ice had diaphanoused the tenuous skin that protected your gaze. Your face was as white as snow.

He looked at you in silence, silently wondering why he felt so much affection for you.

He thought you were a dream.

It seemed to him that your image was being softly shaped by the geometry of his dreams. But in fact your vision was not the result of a hallucination at all. You stood there, under the ice, three feet from your son, and he loved you dearly.

He stayed all evening filling his eyes with you. And he did not tire of it for a single moment. There he was, motionless despite the cold, contemplating what he had never hoped to dream of.

For him, that night, time stood still.

Who were you? And why were you in that place?

He did not know.

But he knew one thing, one thing only, sad and beautiful: your face asleep under the ice would never die.

At first light of day, your son planted a cross in the precise place where he had made your gruesome discovery. And he resumed the path in search of his father.

He could never have forgotten you. Your face haunted him all the way.

He went through the whole Court, and one morning he came to the door of father's dwelling. A servant opened it for him.

He stepped aside with a bow, letting him in. He waited for Kallias in a cozy parlor, comforted by the warmth coming from the fireplace.

When the male entered the room he embraced him.

"I have missed you." Said your mate to your son. He responded with equal sentiment.

One evening he asked Kallias, "What was my mother like?" He stopped breathing for a brief moment. He had never asked anything about you.

"I would never have seen the light if it hadn't been for her."

"What was she like?" He insisted.

"Love is the most difficult art. And writing, dancing, composing, painting, even running a Court are the same thing as loving. Funambulisms. The difficult thing is to advance without falling. I, in the end fell because of my love for her. But art saved me from despair and death. It's a long story, I think it would bore you."

"No." He begged him. "Please tell it to me!"

Kallias took a deep breath. "It goes back to when I was still young, a mere heir, just like you."

Your son pleaded him again to continue, and in the face of such insistence, he plunged into memories.

"It all began by magic. One day near the Solstice, as I was returning from a fight, I fell in love with your mother. She was a very different female from any I had ever known. At that time, Amarantha had just set foot in Prythian. I had participated in a very violent battle that had ended in a brilliant, beautiful and unpredictable victory. So I was returning as a winner. Triumphant but wounded. A soldier had disemboweled a male in front of me, I still had the senses of that scene: the taste of mud and blood everywhere in my mouth, the enemy soldiers rushing at him, that hostile face furrowed with hatred. The male had lunged at me, ready to stab me. Then I had felt something push me away, and then nothing but a bloody body from which the guts hung. But at the time it was an honor, the joys of war. One had to die or come back wounded.

I could never forget the sight of that body slumped on the ground. Then I fainted. They took me for dead. I stayed there all night under the lifeless body. The next morning someone heard my groans. They lifted the body and discovered my horrified face, the face of the heir. They treated me, and for several days I continued to deliriate. After a week, there was still horror in my eyes.

My father-your grandfather-came to me to congratulate me, and I was proud, but with a pride nonetheless clouded by the pain of what I had experienced.

Finally, when I had recovered my strength, I took the road back. I did not want to fight anymore, and not so much because of the wounds inflicted on me - since the beginning of Amarantha's tyranny I had been wounded six times - but because of the sheer disgust I felt towards war. I, the very one, the heir to the Winter Court, who had pledged my allegiance to our armies, realized that I no longer had any desire to kill.

I therefore left the army and set out on foot for home. And it was there, on the way back, that the miracle was accomplished.

Crippled by the cold, at the end of my strength, with the horror of war still in my eyes, alone in the thick of the darkness and tragedy I had just experienced alone in the abyss of winter, alone with the vertigo of loneliness, alone in my silence, where I could have died a hundred times of cold, hunger, fatigue, disappointment and exhaustion, I survived.

I survived because what I saw that day, that thing, that extraordinary thing that came from a distant place, sent by Mother to compensate for the horror of the male slumped on the ground, that sublime and beautiful thing was the most sublime and beautiful image I had ever been allowed to see in my entire life. And that image I could never forget again.

The image was that of a young female balancing on a tightrope, a young female as light as a bird, a funambulist who was performing with the grace of a squirrel above a silvery river. She was very high in the sky. More than walking the tightrope she floated through the air as if by magic. I watched her glide suavely into the blue up there, standing in front of her invisible wire, barbell in her hands, one would have called her an angel.

I slowly approached the river, and the beauty of the young female captivated me. It was the first time I had seen a Fae from another Continent. She seemed to be flying. Intrigued, I advanced further. She was now perfectly above me.

A dense crowd had gathered on the shore to witness the strange apparition. I approached an old man and, still looking at her, asked him, "Who is she?"

The old man, without even looking at me, replied with a tremor in his voice, "She is a funambulist. Or a bird lost in the air."

She was a funambulist, and her life followed a single line. Straight.

She was from another continent. Her name was Y/n. They had nicknamed her Snow, because she had delicate features and ice-colored eyes. And also because when she darted through the air she seemed as light as a snowflake.

This is how she had begun. One day, while still a child, her path had crossed that of a traveling circus. Flabbergasted, she had discovered the possibility of daydreaming. Heedless of the dangers, she had decided to make it her own career. She had started with a tightrope stretched a few inches off the ground. Then, little by little, she had gone higher and higher both in height and in the mastery of her art. And so she had become the first female funambulist in the Winter Court. Up on the tightrope, she had never come down again.

My Y/n had become a funambulist for the sake of balance. She, whose life unfolded like a winding thread, littered with twists and turns that intertwined and dissolved the sinuosities of fate and the insipidness of existence, excelled in the subtle and insidious art of making evolutions on a tightrope.

She never felt more at ease than when she walked the wire a thousand feet above the ground. Straight ahead. Without ever deviating a single millimeter from her course.

It was her destiny.

To advance step by step.

From one end of life to the other.

Her prowess had conquered all the squares of my Court.

At nineteen, my Snow had already traveled more than a hundred kilometers on her tightrope, often risking her life. She had stretched her tightrope between the two towers of my palace and had balanced several hours above the rope, like an Esmeralda made of wind, snow, and silence.

Then she had repeated her feats in every building I owned, each time defying the laws of balance.

She was no mere funambulist. She proceeded through the air as if by magic.

Looking at her so far up there, her body standing upright in the sky like a white flame and her hair caressed by the wind, one would have called her the snow goddess. For in reality the hardest thing for her was not keeping her balance, or even mastering fear, much less walking that endless tightrope, on that thread of music interspersed with dazzling vertigo. The hardest thing, when she advanced into the light of the world, was not to turn into a snowflake.

By now they were claiming her from every corner of the Court of Winter. So she went and crossed with her rope into the Summer Court. Then, almost without realizing it, she made it all the way to the Court of Dawn, where I traveled only to be enraptured watching her. Never before had a performer from one Court performed in another, not in such period.

And I looked at her and already loved her. In my eyes, your mother seemed at once poetry, painting, calligraphy, dance and music. She was Snow and represented all the beauty of art.

When the beautiful stranger had finished the number on the tightrope and had returned to earth, I could not restrain my desire to approach her. I stepped forward and, in doing so, discovered the fineness of her features, the design of her mouth, the line of her eyebrows, and knew instantly that never again would I forget that face. I looked into her eyes, and in turn Snow squared me. There was no need for words. She smiled at me, and in that smile I lost my soul.

I knelt down, and said, "You are what I have been looking for. You are my mate."

Snow, on the other hand, was not looking for anyone. But my gesture seemed to her of such beauty that she delighted in it. And she married me.

The first years were happy. A happy event came to strengthen our bond. You.

You possess your mother's diaphanous beauty and my white hair. Our life was one of peace and silence. Gradually Snow settled more and more into my Court. Sometimes she felt homesick for her land, but she never complained about it.

What she missed most of all was her craft as a funambulist.

One night she dreamed of flying.

The next day, waking up, she thought about the dream again. Then she thought no more about it. The Solstice came, then passed. You grew in the ecstasy of light. Snow was happy. In one hand she held my love and in the other her own heart, which she offered to you. And that fragile barbell served to keep her balanced on the thread of happiness.

But one day the balance of that balance wheel became so fragile that it broke. One day the affection lavished on her by her loved ones was no longer enough to make her happy. She cruelly missed the life in the air. She thirsted again for vertigo, for thrills, for conquest. She thought only of becoming a funambulist again.

She asked permission to arrange one last performance. She wanted to stretch a rope from one mountain to another in the heart of our mountains.

Surely I estimated that desire insane, deeming the idea of endangering his life senseless, but, as a true mate, I bowed and agreed.

I had two of the best ropes come from the Autumn Court: one was short and thin, the other much thicker and five hundred yards long. Then I sent two servants to fasten the longer cable between the two highest peaks of the mountains.

Y/n slipped the barbell out of its case, put on her ballerina shoes, and, stretching the smaller cable in the garden, practiced for hours over tiny mountains of snow and a miniature ocean on which chunks of ice floated.

I did not tire of watching her. My mate was an unrivaled funambulist.

On that wire she was so happy, so beautiful, so ethereal, that every day I thanked Mother for giving her to me. Her hair was fluttering. She had a clear gaze. And she was walking on air.

The performance was set for the first days of the New Year. A crowd gathered from all over Prythian to witness your mother's feats.

When Snow placed her feet on the cable, the crowd rumbled. Up there, so high it made one dizzy just looking at her, she looked like a tiny white dot in space, a snowflake in the immensity of the sky. Armed with her barbell, for more than an hour and a half Snow performed high above the ground, slowly approaching the opposite side of the mountain. Below, I held my breath. One false step and it was certain death.

But she, perfectly mastering her art, advanced inexorably. Step by step. Blow after blow. Silence after silence. From vertigo to vertigo. She never stumbled.

It was the thread, which broke. Surely badly secured, the cable broke loose from the rock and plunged my mate and barbell into a fall of almost a thousand feet.

Those who saw her disappear there, in the heart of our mountains, took her for a bird falling from the sky.

Her body, surely fallen into a crevasse, was never found again. Snow had become snow and slept in the bed of her whiteness.

I never recovered from the loss of my wife. My two clumsy servants were dismissed without any other form of revenge on my part. A few days later it turned out that they had killed themselves by throwing themselves off a cliff. I felt neither joy nor sorrow.

I saw only one thing: my pain. I knew only one thing: that never again would I find the woman I had loved. Never again would I see Snow again. Never again would I see beauty again. Back I was in my home, now devoid of any joy, I threw off the robes of the High Lord. I promised myself that I would devote myself to your education and art. To absolute art.

So it was that I became, for love of a woman, a poet, musician, calligrapher, dancer. And painter. Because painting was clearly the most faithful link between the lost face and absolute art, the surest means of finding Snow again. And so in that art I excelled.

I got the equipment from a paint merchant - a wooden easel, silk brushes, a palette, an endless amount of colors -, had a small hut built in the garden and locked myself in it. I spent long years there, painting my mate whom I would never see again except in dreams.

However, I was never satisfied with one's work.

Her paintings, though splendid, seemed to me too colorful, too little resemblance. To reproduce Snow accurately I would have to make a completely white, virgin, purified painting. How to paint whiteness? My Y/n portraits were all beautiful, but there were none that resembled Snow.

I kept perfecting my art, day after day, night after night, never getting tired. Then I began to feel old. You, already united in a bond and grown up, went to live far away.

I found myself alone in front of the canvas. I would wear out my eyesight by dint of contemplating the image of my beautiful disappearance.

And one day, because of that incessant work, I became almost blind. And it was that very day, from the abyss of my grief, I painted the whitest and most beautiful of all her portraits.

There. Here the story ends. I never forgot your mother, just as I never ceased to revere and dipimg her. Even when I sank into myself. Especially when I sunk into myself. From the deepest blackness, I painted whiteness, discovered purity. Then I discovered that true light and true colors are always intrisically linked to the beauty of the soul.

Starting from the face of my beloved, I cultivated absolute art. Starting from the total absence of light I took hold of it and its nuances."

Kallias fell silent. Your son was seized with dizziness. He looked at his father and said, "I know where my mother is. I met her on my way here. She is dead, but it is as if she is still alive. She lives in a glass coffin. She is so beautiful that I stayed a whole night contemplating her." As he spoke he had a look lost in the void, his eyes still veiled by the breath of the dream. The story had been long and throbbing. Returning to the real world was difficult.

Your beloved merely smiled at the young man and nodded his approval. But it was clear he did not believe him. "How do you know? No one knows where she is. You don't even know what your mother's face looks like."

"The mountain digested her and returned her body. She is there, under the ice, a meter from the surface. She is there, in her glass coffin, untouched, as beautiful as when you met her. I swear I know where she is. I saw her by accident, coming here. Her face impressed me so much that I stayed beside her all night. I planted a cross at the site of her ice tomb. If you wish, I can lead you to her."

Kallias realized that he was speaking the truth, and he could not hold back a tear.

"I knew that one day she would send me a messenger. But I did not know that this messenger would come so late in my life. And what's more, my son." Then he turned to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "And to say that since she died every day I have tried to find her again in painting, in music, in poetry, the snow beauty of her face. And to say that now her face is within my sight. And to say that I will not be able to see her."

The next day your son asked your mate, "Have you thought about my proposal? When do you wish me to take you before my mother's grave?"

Kallias sighed, then replied in a sad voice, "My son. This trip would be useless. I know you speak the truth, but what good would it do for an old man like me, now almost blind, to find the grave of a dead woman? Where she is, my bride is at peace. May her isolation be respected for eternity." Then he took his leave and disappeared into his room.

A month passed. Your son dared not speak of you in the presence of your husband. Besides, Kallias himself seemed to avoid the subject.

Every day, his father would simply say hello before breakfast. Then he would remain invisible for the rest of the day, and during dinner he would remain silent.

But then, one morning, standing on the bank of a river, your mate said to him, "Tomorrow we're going to find Snow."

They left at dawn. Your son walked ahead, and Kallias followed him, orienting himself with the sound of his footsteps.

Whenever the young male offered his hand to help him over some steeper or treacherous passage, your beloved refused it and punctually overcame the obstacle without need of help.

At night they slept in villages on mats spread out on the ground. When, upon entering a village, Kallias introduced himself and announced his presence, the doors opened in front of him as if by magic. Your son was amazed ti how deeply everyone seemed to respect and admire his father. And he understood how fortunate he was to still have him beside him.

Not everyone gets to meet divinities while still alive.

The journey was long, unceasingly white. White as the silence that accompanied them. White as the snow that covered the valleys.

Finally, one morning, the first mountain peaks appeared. Their road began to climb toward the sky and its purity.

They were the hardest hours.

His father began to show signs of fatigue. But he pretended not to, since they were no longer far behind. The journey was coming to an end.

When he saw the cross, your son trembled with emotion.

"Father!" He shouted. "I found it!" He rushed under the rock, there where, on a stormy night, he had discovered the grave of you, his mother, and had a cry of surprise.

"What is it?" Kallias asked impaneled. "Has snow disappeared forever in the heart of the mountain? Has there been an avalanche?"

"No." Said your son. "Far from it. It is as if the Mother has understood our appeal and foreseen our coming. Y/n is there. But her body is even closer than last time. She is barely two or three centimeters from the veil of ice. I can almost touch her."

You were there. You, a creature so beautiful, so bare, as fragile as a dream. You were dead, yet you seemed alive. You were resting under the ice. And soon you would emerge from your grave. Your body so delicate and your skin so diaphanous made you look even more fragile.

Your son threw himself on all fours and scratched the ice with his fingernails. Finally your face appeared. He took your husband's hand and placed it on your face.

"Do you feel her face? Her skin?" Your beloved's hand caressed your cheek. He had become completely blind. But he did not need his eyes to recognize the lines of your face. You were so well preserved that the simple pressure of his palm on your eyelids was enough for him: "It's really her. It's my Snow. You did not lie to me." He fell to his knees before you and wept his hot tears on your icy face, having found again his mate.

Kallias never descended from the mountain. He lay down on the ice, next to you, his greatest love, and closed his eyes.

Your son tried to dissuade him by telling him that to stay there was madness, but his father replied in a calm voice, "Leave me alone. I have found my place. For eternity."

Then he fell asleep beside your intact body. He died letting himself be overcome by the whiteness of the world. He was happy. At the height of your heart.

You loved each other

Suspended on a thread

Of snow.

39 notes · View notes

stressed-and-fluff-obsessed · 5 months ago

Note

Hiya! I noticed ur requests were open and I was wondering if u could do a stolitz fic with stolas as the lee if your comfortable? Have a silly In return ^^

Of course! And thank you ^^

Relation Tension

Summary: Blitz and Stolas’ “relationship” is starting to become a little strained so Blitz tries to resolve that problem

Small C.W: Lil bit of swearing, gets a little intense at the end

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh he screwed up and he screwed up bad.

Blitz paced around his office, tail snapping nervously behind him as he thought about the argument with Stolas that he just had at the palace.

“Sir?” Moxxie poked his head in, Millie and Loona’s poking in above his. “Are you okay? You’ve been in here for hours..” Moxxie asked him, voice fading off at the end as he saw the look on his boss’s face.

“Y-Yeah I’m fine, just..leave me alone.” Blitz told them and they nodded before exiting and shutting the door. Blitz wanted to talk with the prince again and apologize but after that fight they had Blitz was sure Stolas wanted nothing to do with him…

With a defeated sigh Blitz walked over to his desk and sat down, picking up the picture of him and Stolas from the desk and gazing at it. “What am I supposed to do now..?” Blitz muttered to himself, looking at the picture a moment more before placing it back and resting his face in his hands.

He had an Asmodian Crystal now so there was no reason to go see Stolas again and he was sure the prince knew that, but he wanted to go see him again, to apologize. But how could he after just blowing up at him like that?

He supposed he could go to Envy to get something for him, maybe go talk with Octavia about what to do and then head to the palace to go talk to Stolas, yeah he could do that!

So with a new look in his eye Blitz stood and walked over to the door before banging it down catching the lobby’s attention. “Blitz? You seem to be in a better mood what are you doing now?” Loona spoke up from her phone, asking the question that had been hovering in the air.

“I have some errands to run I’ll be back tonight, Millie you’re in charge.” Blitz told them before snatching his keys off the rack and heading out the door.

Now having a plan of action Blitz climbed in his van and shut the door, starting the engine and driving out of the parking lot and down the road. He had to get to the station, he checked the train schedules and the train for Envy left in 20 minutes.

Blitz continued driving down the road, swerving out of the way of the occasional drunk driver until he finally reached the station, turning the van off and climbing out, shutting the door and walking to the train platform where the train for Envy was boarding.

Once he reached the platform he climbed on board quickly and found his seat right as the train took off down the track. After it started to move Blitz thought to himself.

“Stolas is a prince, what the hell am I supposed to get for a prince?” Blitz muttered to himself, “Oi keep it down back there!” A random demon from ahead yelled back at him which he replied with a middle finger towards the grumpy demon.

After that interaction Blitz settled up against the window as the train continued, thinking to himself on what he needs to do.

~*~

“What do you think Blitz is doing?” Millie piped up in the quiet room, “Eh who knows.” Loona replied, not looking up from her phone.

“Well he said he had some errands to run and I know he was hung up about what happened with His Majesty.” Moxxie told her, placing a hand on his chin in thought. “Yeah maybe he’s out trying to figure out how to patch things up.” Millie told herself, smiling at Moxxie.

“Yeah he probably is, nothing to worry about.” Moxxie smiled back, kissing the top of his wife’s head. “Ew get a room!” Loona called from her place at the reception desk making the imp’s laugh

~*~

“Finally!” Blitz exclaimed, walking off the train and away from the platform as the Ring of Envy met his sights. “Now, time to find a shop.” Blitz told himself, grinning as he started down the street in search of a store.

He walked along the streets for about 10 minutes before he finally found something that could work. He walked up to the doorstep and opened the door, immediately being greeted by the sight of a large shop full of demons and a variety of items, perfect.

Blitz looked around a moment from the doorway before walking inside, glancing and pausing at all the items in the store that caught his attention. So far nothing was of interest to him, Stolas was a prince he needed to get something nice for him until he saw it…

Blitz saw something glimmer from the corner of his eye and his tail flicked curiously before he turned and walked up to the object. It was a gold studded ring with an owl surrounded by stars engraved on it, this was perfect!

Blitz grinned, happy to have finally found the perfect thing as he grabbed the ring and walked to checkout to buy it. Once he’d payed for it he walked out the door and continued down the street in the direction he came.

His work in Envy was done now but there was still one more thing he wanted to get from Pride before going to speak with Octavia so he left back on his way to the train station, arriving there a few minutes later and sitting on a nearby bench to wait.

“Do you think Stolas will like this?” Blitz muttered to himself, pulling the ring out and gazing at it with uncertainty. It was beautiful sure but would Stolas like it? He wasn’t sure.

His thoughts were cut off soon later as the train back to Pride arrived at the station and began boarding. Blitz jumped up and walked to the train, climbing on and quickly finding his seat and resting his head against the window as he waited for the rest of the demons to finish boarding.

Once everyone was on the train the whistle blew and the train jostled forward, making its way down the tracks and back to Pride. Blitz sighed in his seat, Pride was about a 10 minute train ride away and that made him a little nervous.

“Once I do everything in preparation and I go talk to Stolas what am I supposed to tell him? What if he doesn’t even want to see me?” Blitz muttered to himself again, growing nervous as the train ride progressed.

“No what am I thinking, of course he’ll want to see me.” Blitz told himself but there was still a pang of uncertainty in his chest making his tail swish back and forth nervously.

Blitz’s time to ponder over the matter quickly ended as the train pulled into the station. Huh? Had he been zoning out for that long? He didn’t have any time to think on that when the last of the passengers were exiting the train so he got up and scrambled out the door just as the train took off again behind him.

Blitz looked back at the empty tracks for a moment before flipping the station off and grumbling as he walked towards the ring. Now back in Pride Blitz wanted to get Stolas his signature basket of cheese and wine so he went to look for the store that usually sold that.

Once he arrived at the store he walked in and the cashier at the counter looked up. “Ay Blitz! Good to see ya again, you here for the basket?” The cashier greeted, placing the basket on the counter as Blitz sauntered up.

“You know it.” The imp grinned, “And who’s it for this time? One of your friends?” The other asked Blitz, ringing him up while making small talk. “Uhh, nobody important trust me.” Blitz waved him off, giving him the currency and taking the basket from the counter.

“Alright then, I’ll see ya around!” The cashier called as Blitz walked out the door, okay. That obstacle is done and over with. Time to find Octavia.

“My best bet for finding her would be going back to the I.M.P to ask Loony to contact her.” Blitz told himself, placing a hand on his chin in thought as he walked back to his van.

Once he arrived at the van shortly after he unlocked the vehicle and placed the two things delicately inside so they wouldn’t fall over or get damaged before rounding to the driver side and climbing in, shutting the door and starting the engine before driving out of the lot and down the street.

The I.M.P was about a 5 minute drive from where he was so let’s hope Loona could get ahold of Octavia before the sun set.

~*~

“Ughhh! I’m so bored!” Millie called from the couch, slumping down in her seat and draping her tail over the arm of the couch to further show her boredom.

“It’s okay Millie I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Moxxie piped up, placing a hand on her thigh to reassure her. “Yeah, he’ll be back eventually, no need to worry.” Loona chimed in, talking to them but not looking up from her phone.

“Thanks guys, you’re right i just have to be patient!” Millie told herself, standing up and climbing on the couch to stand on it and Blitz chose that moment to walk in the door.

“Millie don’t stand on the couch do you know how expensive that was?!” Blitz scolded with a groan but Millie’s face only brightened, “Blitz you’re back! How were the errands? And what’d you do?” Millie asked him but Blitz turned to Loona.

“I’d love to stay and tell you Millie but night is only a few hours away and I need your help Loony.” Blitz told her and the hellhound turned to Blitz with a half annoyed half intrigued look. “My help? For what?” Loona asked him and Blitz’s face broke out into a grin.

“I need you to contact the princess for me, Princess Octavia? You have her social don’t you?” Blitz asked Loona and her ear flicked and she raised a brow. “Yeah? But what do you need me to contact her for?” Loona asked the imp, getting a little suspicious.

“I need to ask her about Stolas, he…doesn’t exactly want to see me right now.” Blitz told her sheepishly and the hound’s features softened slightly in understanding. “Alright, do you need me to ask where she can meet you or something?” Loona asked Blitz, turning back to her phone.

“Yes please thank you Loony!” Blitz told her and went to join the other two imps on the couch as Loona texted Octavia. “So guys I want your opinion on something.” Blitz turned to the couple and they turned to face him.

“What is it sir?” Moxxie asked and Blitz pulled the box out of the bag and opened it to show them the ring he’d gotten Stolas. “I got this for Stolas but I’m not sure if he’ll like it what do you think?” Blitz asked them and Millie visibly got starry-eyed.

“Oh that ring is beautiful Blitz! The prince will love it I assure you.” Millie told him, her words easing some of his nerves. “Alright Octavia agreed to meet you at the nearby cafe about 6-7 minutes from here.” Loona called from the reception desk and Blitz grinned, placing the ring back in the box and grabbing the basket of cheese and wine before heading towards the door.

“Thanks Loony you’re the best!” Blitz called as he swung open the door and left, shutting it behind him and going down into the parking lot. “Okay I have a limited amount of time to meet her, let’s see how this goes.” Blitz told himself, walking out to his van and unlocking it.

He placed everything in the passenger seat and climbed into the driver seat, shutting the door and starting the engine before leaving the lot and going down the road. Blitz knew of the cafe Octavia was talking about but he was surprised she chose a cafe of all things, he remembered the young Goetia to be quite introverted.

Nonetheless Blitz headed to the cafe, arriving there a few minutes later and spotted Octavia sitting at one for the outside tables on her phone, damn she got here quick. “Hey Via.” Blitz called to the owl, sitting across from her as her eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Ah you made it imp boy.” Octavia smiled, “Now what did you want to meet me for?” The princess continued, “I wanted to ask you about Stolas.” Blitz told her and she nodded, “I see, is this about that fight you two had?” She asked him, folding her arms in front of her.

“Kinda sorta, I want to apologize to him but I don’t know how, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even want to see me..” Blitz trailed off, Octavia stayed silent for a moment before sighing.

“My father is an ass sometimes but I don’t want to see him sad so I’ll help you. The first and most important step is to apologize of course, make it sincere and genuine otherwise he won’t believe you.” Octavia told him and he nodded.

“Well I did get him this, I don’t know if that will contribute to anything.” Blitz told her and her head cocked to the side curiously as he pulled out the small box and opened it to show her the ring.

A small smile lifted on the heiress’ face at the sight of the jewelry, “He does appreciate things like this so I can tell you he’ll like that. I’ve got a meeting in 20 so I need to go but I’ll tell you this, my father’s not selfish so if you provide him a reason to listen to your apology he will most likely listen to reason, good luck Blitz.” Octavia told him, standing from her chair and walking to the now waiting limo on the street.

Blitz watched her as she climbed in and they drove off, pondering over her words before standing up with a confident smile. “Alright! I can do that.” Blitz told himself, standing up from the chair and walking over to his van.

“Next stop, and the last..the Goetia Palace.” Blitz told himself but he couldn’t help a little bit of nervousness seep into his voice, no. He could do this he will do this!

Blitz got to his van and opened the door, climbing in and shutting the door before taking a deep breath and starting the engine, “I can do this, I can do this.” Blitz told himself as he pulled out of the parking lot and started down the road.

While he drove he glanced at the gifts for Stolas in the passenger seat and he sighed, he’d gotten approval from his team and Stolas’s daughter, he was sure he’d like it but he still had a pang of fear in his chest.

Blitz was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize he’d just pulled into the front of the palace until he looked up. With shaking nerves Blitz turned the van off and climbed out, rounding the front of the vehicle and grabbing the basket and slipping the ring box in his pocket before heading to the door.

Once he arrived at the doorstep he gently pushed open the door to the palace, shutting it behind him and starting down one of the nearby corridors, tail swishing behind him.

Blitz followed the corridor until it lead him to an empty room, Blitz made a sound of annoyance before turning around and going down a different corridor, this time he wound up in Stolas’s library, he didn’t see the prince at first and he was about to turn around before he saw Stolas’s feathery tail disappear behind a bookshelf.

Blitz rushed over and rounded the bookcase, catching sight of the prince quickly. “Stolas!” Blitz called and the demon in question squawked in surprise, nearly dropping and fumbling with the book in his hands that made Blitz smirk a little before Stolas regained his composure and placed the nearly dropped book back on the shelf and straightening his cloak.

“May I help you Blitz?” Stolas asked him coldly, turning to face the imp. “L-Look Stolas I need to talk to you.” Blitz told the other and he swept past him into the main area of the library, Blitz following until Stolas stopped by a small table.

“It better be good, I have things to do you know and I’d prefer to go do them instead of standing here chatting.” The prince informed Blitz and he felt a small surge of anger rise in him but he pushed it back down, no he needed to be patient.

“Well…” Blitz began making Stolas raise a brow before the imp held up the basket he was holding causing the prince to crack a small smile. “Is that for me?” Stolas asked, cold demeanor returning but visibly softer than before as he delicately took the basket and placed it on the table.

“Yeah..it is, look Stolas I wanted to tell you-“ Blitz began but Stolas cut him off, “If you’re here to rub in my face that I’m this ‘fancy royal that doesn’t give a shit about you’ then I don’t want to hear it, goodbye Blitz and thank you for the gift.” Stolas told him, starting for the door.

“Stolas wait!” Blitz called, rushing in front of the owl and gripping his sides firmly to keep him there but what Blitz didn’t expect was for Stolas to squawk again and jerk away from the touch.

Blitz retracted his hands quickly, worried he’d hurt the prince but then he got a look at Stolas’s face, his eyes were as wide as Blitz’s were and the fainted trace of a smile was present on his beak, his face was also tinted pink, that’s when it hit him.

Blitz smirked and stood up taller to look Stolas in the eye. “B-Blitz…don’t look at me like that..” Stolas began, backing away but Blitz only followed until he’d backed the owl against the wall.

“Ticklish Stolas?” Blitz grinned, placing his hands on Stolas’s sides again and relishing in the way the owl jumped under the touch. “N-No I have no idea what you’re talking about, release me at once!” Stolas tried demanding but Blitz only shook his head.

“Mmm no I don’t think so, now maybe you’ll learn to hear me out instead of trying to leave me again.” Blitz stated before digging into Stolas’s sides and grinning at the way he yelped, curling in on himself as he tried to keep his giggles in.

“Stubborn one aren’t you?” Blitz spoke, “Then I’m sure you could handle it if I did this?” Blitz taunted, hands going lower and drilling into the prince’s hips. Stolas tossed his head back with a muffled whine, doing his absolute best not to break but when Blitz switched from drilling into his hips with wiggling over the area he broke.

“Blihihihitz! Dohohohon’t do thahahahat!” Stolas cried out, gripping Blitz’s hands with his own but making no move to push the other away, something Blitz took mental note of.

“Well why not? You didn’t want to hear me out before so why should I hear you out?” Blitz asked him, grinning cheekily as he moved up to vibrate into the divots of Stolas’s ribs making his laughter jump an octave.

“Behehehecahause- AHAH! Blihihihihitz!” Stolas yelped when the imp moved back to graze and lightly wiggle his fingers over the backs of Stolas’s ribs, “Oh what’s this? Bad spot?” Blitz teased, moving back to scratch firmly over that spot making the prince’s laughter louder.

“NOHOhohohOHOHO!! BLIHIhihihITZ!!” Stolas howled, kicking his feet as much as he could in this position. Blitz then felt something fluffy brush up against his leg and he looked down in confusion to see Stolas’s tail sweeping side to side and it just so happened to catch Blitz in the leg.

The imp smirked and turned back to Stolas who was too busy laughing to notice Blitz’s discovery, “You enjoyin this Stolas?” Blitz grinned as Stolas shook his head, “Nohohohoho?! Whahahahahat mahahahakes you think thahahahahat?!” Stolas pressed out, cracking an eye open as Blitz pointed down, referring to Stolas’s tail.

Blitz laughed as Stolas’s face flushed red and he tried to will his tail to stop but it didn’t work, especially not with the near-scream Stolas let out as Blitz moved up to dig his hands into the owl’s underarms.

“B-BLIHIHIHIHITZ!!” Stolas cackled, legs kicking behind him, “Yeah Stolas?” Blitz smirked, giving the owl a break by moving down to trace and skitter over the prince’s sides.

“Ihihihi forgot…how ruhuhuhuthless you cahahan…be..” Stolas pressed out, regaining his breathing but still being kept in a constant state of giggles as Blitz scribbled lightly over his feathery sides.

“Yeah? Well I’m determined to get you to listen to me, will you hear me out?” Blitz asked, raising a brow but Stolas only turned his head away, remaining defiant as ever.

Blitz only chuckled, a sound that sent shivers going down Stolas’s spine before the imp’s hands snaked to his back, scribbling and scratching over the owl’s upper back.

Stolas arched away with a squawk before straightening out again and curling in on himself, bursting into loud cackles immediately. “BLIHIHIHIHITZ NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!!” Stolas screeched, the feeling of Blitz’s fingers lighting up his nervous system.

“Not where? Here?” Blitz replied, moving down to the small of his back. “T-THAHAHAHAT’S EHEHEVEN WOHOHOHOHORSE!!” Stolas pressed out through his bouts of laughter.

“Well are you ready to listen or do you just want me to continue tickling your sensitive back?” Blitz grinned, switching to wiggling his fingers over the sides of Stolas’s back, that’s what finally broke him.

“OHOHOKAY FIHIHIHINE BLIHIHITZ YOU WIHIHIN I’LL LIHIHISTEN JUHUHUST LEHEHET ME GOHOHOHO!!” Stolas cackled and finally after a few more scribbles Blitz released him, stepping away from the prince who closed his eyes and slumped down the bookshelf until he was sitting on the floor, regaining his breath.

Stolas didn’t hear the retreat of footsteps or the opening and closing of the door until he finally regained his composure, stood and opened his eyes to find the imp gone.

Stolas made a small noise of confusion, looking around the room until his eyes landed on the new objects on the table that were not there before, an open ring box and a letter.

Stolas swept over to the objects and picked them up, the box in one hand and the letter in the other. Inside the box held the most beautiful ring he’d ever seen, a gold encrusted owl with diamond stars around it.

Stolas smiled and took it from the box before slipping it on his finger, fit like a glove. Then he set the box down and opened the letter, unfolding the piece of paper which he assumed was what Blitz had wanted to talk about as he read the first line.

“Dear Stolas…”

(Woah long one, I really like writing the visit to other rings scenario, it’s one of my favs so sorry it’s in this one too and sorry I took so long to get it out but I hope you enjoyed!)

#helluva boss #helluva boss tickles #ler!blitzø #Lee!stolas #answered #sfw tkl fic #sfw tkls #sfw post

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