#pov your husbands asks you if you would still love him if he was a worm 🪱

[marshmellin]

What’s the Elvish Word for “Fine”?

Rated I for (angry) Idiots in Love: 5.8K words, Thranduil x unnamed/undescribed mortal woman, 2nd person POV, no use of y/n Rated mature for language only, "arranged marriage" in a political sense with consent between willing adults, they’re big mad but is it anger or just being stupid?

No beta, we die like Thranduil's first wife who is not mentioned

You rounded the corner and stopped suddenly. Thranduil was sitting on Carasta’s desk. Sitting was the wrong term. Lounging.  “Hello, wife.”  He was in dark, silvery robes without his crown, his long legs propped up against a chair. With a far-too-broad smile on his face.  Something stupid was happening. 

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//

“It is infuriating that you keep putting up this long –” – slam – “ – infuriating – ” – slam – “ – show – ” – slam ��. “I can not want you in the way you want me.” Cold blue eyes stared at you, waiting for the outburst, the anger he so desperately wanted to bloom across your face. 

When Thranduil started to feel something – anything – stirring in his chest, he started a fight. You noticed the two of you fought often. More so now than at the beginning of your not-quite-a-marriage two years ago. You did not think it a coincidence, but what the hell did you know?

You’d thought you’d entered a partnership with someone civil. 

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you kept your face still. “And what, exactly, makes you think I want you, Thranduil?” You let just a little sarcasm creep in. 

He narrowed his cold eyes, evaluating you. 

The issue was, however: You did want him. 

In the last two years, you had come to want him very much, though you admit you are unsure how it started given his general demeanor. 

Well, that’s a lie. He’s an elf. And he is particularly attractive for an elf, at that. His face alone gives his behavior a pass for the first three, maybe four encounters. 

But this behavior was not one of his better looks and you’d have no issue turning this version of the Elvenking down for the rest of your very mortal life. 

White hot fury flashed across his face. “You know what I mean. Constantly, you show it. And I can not — will not — respond the way you want!”

You leaned back in your chair. “I do not know what you mean, Thranduil” you said firmly, shaking your head exaggeratedly. “What is it that I show you?”  --You weren’t showing him sex or physical affection, certainly so – “What is it that you claim to see from me that you can not respond to, Thranduil?”

The more you said his name, the angrier he would get, which is why you kept doing it. Thranduil all but snaked his way to gripping the desk across from you, leaning over your papers. Curtains of snow-white hair hanging between you as he glared down at you. Not exactly giving you "the high ground” so to speak, but the fact that he came this close to you meant he was already on his back foot. 

“You…are….constantly…HERE. You ask after me, you bring me food, you manage to interrupt me during every letter I’ve written in the last four weeks. You bring me books you think I might like, you leave me letters about your work. I do not know how to respond to you. I have been alone in these chambers for centuries and yet you are HERE. I do not want this and I do not want you. And I do not know why you continue to make this arrangement so difficult by pretending.”

You blinked at that, tilting your head. Slowly. You were giving him time to suss it out on his own. 

But his rage was icy, bathed in wine from dinner, and he didn’t seem to know how to do math in the cold. 

You set the quill down and steepled your fingers, elbows resting on the desk as you looked up at him looming above you. 

Fine. 

“Everything you have just ‘accused’ me of is what spouses do, Thranduil. Husbands and wives. Partners. Bluntly, you bought yourself a wife, ThranduilI, through an even exchange: you have a skilled negotiator and queen, my uncle’s people have food and protection.”

Muscles in his jaw worked and he opened his mouth, “That is not–”

You held up a hand, cutting him off. “Ah-aht, no, Thranduil. No. You said what you wanted to say both tonight and many other nights. And now you will let me do the same.” 

The look on his face didn’t change, but his mouth snapped shut. 

It might do him some good to shut up for a moment, even if it gave you heartburn to demand it.

“It weighs on my heart that someone asking after your wellbeing startles you so,” you said steadily, fingers tapping against the desk as if making an observation that it was raining outside – but the truth of it stung you. 

It did hurt that he was so…that he thought someone making sure he ate was…

It was heartbreaking. 

But, it was becoming increasingly clear, his heart was not yours to mend. 

You sighed again. At this point you were sighing more often than breathing. “Thank you for this final, clear message that you take no pleasure in our” — marriage? Partnership? It had never been one — “contract. I will make my thoughts equally as plain: I have one job in Greenwood. It is to be your wife and queen. And in truth, it’s a shitty job, but I’m going to do it as best as I can, Thranduil. I agree, our quarters are not ideal and I will leave for another part of the palace within the week.”

Thranduil held your gaze. You cocked an eyebrow. You thought you saw another muscle in his jaw twitch, but you weren’t sure. 

When he finally spoke, his tone was softer, which you had not expected. “I do not want to…put on a show….”

Your eyebrows shot up at that. You were done being lectured. “You purchased a fucking show, Thranduil. Now you are angry when it’s performed for you? Fine. That is your choice, and I am happy to stop acting like this is a working partnership.” You snorted and broke eye contact, reaching down to pick up your quill. 

Head down, squinting at the parchment, you did your best to dismiss him. It had taken you an extraordinary amount of effort to say all of this to him, for several reasons, and you could not look him in the eye any longer. 

Firstly, fuck him for coming in to your study, knocking books around and talking too loudly after you both just sat through an entrant for Arda’s Most Boring Banquet award and smiled as his queen was supposed to. King Amdír’s son Amroth wasn’t exactly the best conversationalist and yet, converse you had with the obnoxious Silvan. 

And you were feeling quite unappreciated at this moment, considering you’d also negotiated an agreement for open trade of leather goods from Amroth’s father during the dinner. While Thranduil drank — a reminder that he is, at least, two glasses in — and muttered every time you stood near him at a respectful distance. 

Secondly, this was the only time you had ever thought about your relationship with Thranduil as a contract that he did not seem to understand. 

You knew what was being exchanged. The elven-ness of it all had been jarring at first, yes, but you knew from a young age you would enter a political marriage and you had been raised for one. Binding your family and your people to the largest local realm ruled by a nearly-immortal being was a solid strategy to ensure your great, great, great-grandchildren would be protected and fed -- and it was the equivalent of a 10-year contract to someone like Thranduil. You had no qualms about this, and you entered the agreement with him with open eyes, as equals. 

Yet, you had not probed deeply into his understanding of it until today. Of what partnership meant to him. In any way. 

Leaving behind a book he may find interesting? About a topic, if you recalled correctly — and you know you did — he discussed during dinner once and noted he wished to understand better. 

That was too much after two years of knowing each other? Of knowing each other in any capacity? Even just as a member of his court, much less his wife? 

If so, he had a very weak understanding of any kind of partnership, marriage or otherwise, and you truly had expected more from him. 

Thirdly, you did not want to leave his chambers or stop asking how he was or stop bringing him books he may like or leaving notes about your day. As irritable and obnoxious and, honestly, unpleasant as Thranduil could be…. 

You found him endearing in those milliseconds he allowed himself to feel anything but anger. All together, he was many negative things, yes. But he was also protective of his family and his people, wise in how he negotiated relationships with neighboring kingdoms and the High Elves. He was well-read and, when he allowed himself to show it, he had this wonderful wit and charm that was…well, he was charming. 

You had been charmed. 

And over the last two years of this arrangement, you learned you wanted to be his wife in more than just contractual terms. You think you’ve fallen in love with him. And you know you want him to want you in return. 

But. 

He just said plainly that he did not want that. That he did not want you. 

And if this is where you were, then this is where you were. Your options were limited, your contract signed, and your choices made. 

You had not expected to find love here. Confirming it was absent didn’t change a damn thing, and at this point it did not sting. Your job was to negotiate contracts on behalf of Thranduil Oropherion, the Elvenking and to attend events as his Queen. 

That was it.

Leaving him books or being pleasant was not part of the contract you signed. 

Your thoughts drifted aimlessly, landing on the question of how you would like your new chambers laid out — since a large takeaway from this conversation was that spending time in the same room — palace — realm — continent — with you angered him. 

The conjoined study layout here was not ideal. Thranduil had a tendency to shout profanities at his correspondence before replying in a more civil manner. You had grown accustomed to it — even smiling on occasion when he invented new ways to swear at Thorin or Celeborn — but perhaps it was best to avoid that distraction now that you were.... 

Well, if Thranduil is not near me, it doesn’t matter if the rooms are conjoined or not. 

With a small sigh, you noted that request with an asterisk to return to later. 

You were halfway through the next line when you realized he had. not. moved. At all. Not even an inch. He was still staring at the top of your head as you wrote, long hair falling into the space between you. 

Why? This conversation, much like your illusions of ever having a civil working relationship, was over. 

You set the quill aside gently as you looked up to meet his eyes. "Yes, Thranduil?"

“So, that is what it was, then?”

Furrowing your brow, you shook your head in confusion. “I don’t ... wait, what?” Your gaze met his. All the ice in his eyes had melted, but the rest of him moved stiffly as he leaned back, letting go of the desk. 

“Fine.”

He spun on his heel, hair flaring around him, and walked out. 

“Fine!” you shouted after him, half rising from the desk to make sure it carried to the next room. 

You weren’t sure why you were shouting at him, but you’d make sure you’d be the one to shout last. 

//

The next morning, you asked a courier to take your note to Thranduil requesting new chambers on the far side of the Halls. 'Note' was a generous term: it was a list of items for him to approve, signed with the first initial of your name. 

Warm, it was not. 

But the courier said he had been instructed “not to deliver messages to King Thranduil at this time, my lady. His majesty requests your presence in the throne room.”

You arched an eyebrow at that. 

“Very well, thank you for letting me know.” You waved your hand to dismiss the courier. 

“Ah,” he said softly, shifting uncomfortably. 

Thranduil. Are you familiar with an old saying from the lowlands? Bite my ass? If not, then it is unlikely you’re familiar with that phrase’s cousin, Go fuck yourself. I am happy to teach you both.

“Your majesty, I would be honored to, um, guard you as you travel to the throne room,” he ended weakly, because guarding a queen while she walked in her own halls was a ridiculous thing to suggest. 

Thranduil was doing something very stupid. You weren’t sure what, exactly, but you could sense it. 

“I appreciate the offer, Lieutenant, but I am not going to the throne room today.” Thranduil had, at least, taught you a few tricks for leadership. Or, more accurately, intimidation. 

The young ellon looked very torn, as if repeating hierarchy structures in his head and continually arriving at the conclusion that Thranduil was at the top. “Your maj—“ 

“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.” Yes, the Elvenking was at the top of all of those hierarchies, but you rested just beneath him. 

…Well…

The guard left. 

So you used this opportunity to take the scroll he would not deliver to Thranduil, and went to look for Carasta, Thranduil’s private secretary. Walking from your section of your chambers through Thranduil’s, your goal was getting to Carsasta’s work table on the far side of the suite. You would provide him with the list of your requests. If Thranduil didn’t want to accept your request from Carasta, that was fine. You would find the nearest builder and take the walls down yourself, but you were not spending one more minute sharing your chambers with Thranduil than either of you wished to. 

You rounded the corner and stopped suddenly. Thranduil was sitting on Carasta’s desk. Sitting was the wrong term. Lounging. 

“Hello, wife.” 

He was in dark, silvery robes without his crown, his long legs propped up against a chair. With a far-too-broad smile on his face. 

Something stupid was happening. 

“King Thranduil,” you said, inclining your head. 

“Melethnín,” he said softly, his eyes going wide. “What brings you here? I hoped you would join me in the main hall.” 

My love? You cocked an eyebrow. “I am simply leaving a note for Carasta regarding my chambers,” you said evenly, reaching around Thranduil’s long form to place the scroll on Carasta’s desk. You didn’t even want to guess how he made it from the throne room to Carasta’s desk that fast. 

Was he even in the throne room or did he know you’d ignore him?

“Ah, I am eager to read this,” Thranduil said happily, picking up the scroll and opening it. 

It took everything in you not to snatch it from him. Even though he had been the original recipient. 

Icy eyes skimming your notes, he tsked loudly. “Ah, melethnín, this is not sufficient. Not at all! I would not have you move so far from our shared quarters. Mmm, no, we shall draft a new plan together. It is only right for a queen to have a full suite for her study and work, verinya.”

My love. My wife. 

So, something very stupid. 

You sighed. “Thranduil. I am moving my chambers to the other side of the Halls.”

He shook his head, his face the picture of innocence as he rolled up the scroll and hid it away in his robes — where, you didn’t know, because his robes were almost skintight. “I do not want you to leave our chambers.”

“I’ll write another request, king.”

“I’ll intercept it, queen.”

“Thranduil.”

“Melethnín.”

 A long pause. 

“You asked me to leave you alone.”

He shook his head firmly. “No, I said you were always here.”

“You shouted that you wanted space.”

He cocked his head, arrogance on his face, as silver hair cascaded over his shoulder. “I did not. I acknowledge I raised my voice in a very unrefined way, for which I do truly apologize. But I did not demand space apart from you. And on either account, I find I have changed my mind, verinya.”

My wife. 

“You will find I have not, veronya.” You spun on your heel and walked out. 

You heard him raise his voice mockingly, calling, “I haven’t interrupted your day, have I, my love?” at your back as you left. 

“No. You’re fine,” you gritted out loudly as you stomped out. 

“Fine,” came the muted reply from three rooms away. 

// 

Two months later, and Thranduil had not stopped yet, though his tone had grown less mocking, at least. 

He came to you for every meal — and he managed to carry on many thoughtful conversations despite the one-word replies you often gave. He brought you books — frustratingly, the titles were interesting, and he had clearly listened to you at some point to pick them out. He came to ask you questions while you wrote letters and arranged new trade agreements — his comments were obnoxiously helpful and pertinent. 

Thranduil seemed to think that acting pleasant toward you was a punishment of some kind. 

And it was, because it felt like a perverse game. He was showing you what you could have if you…if he….

Well, you weren’t sure what. Something you could not have? He had been very clear. And, you knew, he could be very petty. 

Thranduil also seemed to be playing more than one game, particularly by calling you every pet name devised by Elves or Men — and you think you caught a Dwarven term of endearment or two in there as well, so clearly he was not aware of the origins of the term or he never would have uttered it in his halls.  

And yet you did not know why he continued this game for so long. But you suspected the other shoe would drop at some point. 

It was the second time that evening he had scooted his chair closer to yours, the two of you practically sharing a desk. 

“May I suggest you add another clause here — we can’t be held responsible for orc raids. Transfer of ownership occurs when the wine leaves our barges, even if within our borders. I have spoken with Celeborn on this point already, and told him it was not up for discussion.” He tapped a long finger on the side of your paper and looked down, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Don’t let him go around us, melethnín.”

He kept breaking your heart with this game, and you were done. 

“Thranduil, stop.”

The smile slipped from his face. “Ah. Of course. I’ll leave you to it,” he murmured gently, turning back to his side of the desk. 

When did we pick sides of the same desk?

You sighed and stood, creating some distance between the two of you. 

You were done. It was done now. 

“You have made your point. I understand. You think it’s suffocating. That I am suffocating. I understand. I understood this two months ago when you told me that you would remain married to me —  unwillingly — if I left you alone. And I have moved to limit our interactions since then. I understand what you want.“

You held back a scream, but did not manage to stop a snarl from escaping somewhere deep in your chest. “I will never send you a book ever again, on my oath to Varda and Manwë, I will never speak to you outside a royal function ever again. Please, just stop.”

Thranduil stood as well, rising fluidly and pausing to gently place his chair under his half of the — under the desk. He was, well, patient as he turned to face you, a surprising softness in his eyes. 

“I changed my—“

“— yes, Thranduil, you changed your damn mind about the damn rooms. I heard you. I have not changed mine. I am not asking you to alter our marriage contract here, okay, this is a small thing. I want to move to my own study — per your request — and I cannot understand why you have fixated on this so strongly.”

He did not want you to leave this space. Yet he did not want you to stay in this space. 

No option was good enough for him.  

You crossed your arms. You had seen him be petulant before but two months? You finally met his gaze and it was exactly what you were expecting. Anger blossoming across his face, that one small muscle in his cheek that always twitched. 

“Contract.”

“Fine. Contract.” You threw your hands up in frustration and started rummaging through the desk. “If you want to read the damn thing to ensure I’m following it, I’ll tell you right now there are exactly zero requirements around—”

“Carasta’s files are much more organized,” Thranduil said icily. 

You looked up, letting the papers in your hands scatter to the desktop. “Marry Carasta then, goddamnit. I don’t care.” You were so tired it came out as a flat statement. 

Taking a deep breath, Thranduil seemed to try again, looking for patience in himself you had never seen him find. 

“I don’t want to be married to Carasta,” he said simply, managing to keep his voice steady. “I want to understand.”

You furrowed your brow even more. He wasn’t making sense.

“You aren’t making sense.” 

A small growl escaped him. “What is it that you want? You…I didn’t understand what you meant by…” he huffed and managed to do so haughtily. “Was it a show or not?”

“Was what a show?” You looked around the room, as if expecting to spot the audience, and let your hands drop to your legs in a clapping sound. “The only person complicating this is you. I have stopped reaching out, as you have asked. Why are you fighting—“

“So it was.” He spun on his heel again. 

Oh, I think the fuck not. You were absolutely not doing this for another two months. You were a patient woman but you had limits. Honestly, one limit. And you had reached it. 

You snatched at his arm, grabbing a layer of his cape, which allowed him to walk several more feet before feeling any resistance. 

“Stop. Oh, for fuck’s sake, just stop.”

“I am stopping,” he replied through gritted teeth, hair swinging as he jerked his head to look at you. “I am done.”

You imagined you heard the sound of the other shoe dropping on a marble floor somewhere far away.

You both stood still for a long moment, your hand holding the edge of his cape like an awkward flag between the two of you. His eyes were still white flame, staring into the distance, not meeting yours. The set of his shoulders and the jut of his chin said he wanted to argue again. 

That he was feeling something. 

Why? Done with what? 

“What are you done with?”

Thranduil shrugged your hand off his cape and swept it dramatically behind him. “This. Because you...I thought you did not and then I thought you did, and now it is clear my first impression was correct and you do not. I have approached this incorrectly twice now. I will not attempt it a third. You have been clear.”

You cocked your head at him. The two of you hadn’t used a meaningful noun in quite some time during this argument. You knew that was the type of risk that had to be corrected immediately. 

No one was ever on the same page the first time. 

But you had a suspicion. 

“Define ‘this,’” you all but whispered. 

“Absolutely not. I am done speaking of it. I will not allow you to mock me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I’m not mocking you, I’m asking you a question. We have strayed so far from the start of this conversation that I fear we are saying the same thing and don’t know it.”

He glared at you. “That can’t—“

“Why has your behavior been so different the last two months?”

Thranduil shifted almost uncomfortably, but managed to keep venom in his tone. “You indicated this is the behavior of those who are partners.” A small pause, his voice turning sullen. “Of husbands and wives.”

It took all your focus not to move a single muscle in your face. “You indicated several times that you did not care for me to be your partner or your wife.”

“Yes,” he hissed, “But I changed my mind because I thought I had misunderstood before, and I do not know how to show that to you properly now.”

Thranduil started pacing, his long legs turning the study into two, maybe three steps at most before he spun again. His robes barely fit the space.  

No. This— No. You felt a laugh somewhere deep in your chest, but you forced it down in case he misunderstood. 

Which you both seemed to be doing often lately. 

“Tell me, specifically, what you are trying to show me,” you asked cautiously. 

This was not a time for miscommunication. You would stay here the rest of your mortal life if needed, but you would walk out of this room knowing what the fuck he meant. 

Because you thought you already knew. 

He shook his head, silver hair glinting in the firelight. 

“Thranduil.”

He was still shaking his head, glaring at the hearth, nearly shaking in anger. But he hadn’t left or slammed any doors, which was a good sign. 

One of the first things you had learned about negotiating, years ago when you first followed your uncle to his council meetings as a child, was that the party who named an honest, earnest number first was on their back foot. Yes, it was possible to put out an offer first and still make more from it than expected or hoped for — and sometimes, offering first was both a wise and generous way to proceed — but generally speaking, it took extraordinary skill or luck to argue for more after naming the first number. 

So generally speaking, the party who moved first was not in the strong position. 

Generally speaking. 

But, you had an extraordinary amount of skill — that’s why you were in this room. At the same time, you hadn’t felt particularly lucky lately, but…you would still name a number first. 

Fine. 

“Melethnín.”

That got him to turn with inhuman speed, his face a mask of rage. “I said do not mock me.” His icy eyes locked with yours. 

“I am not mocking you.”

His brow furrowed. “Then why,” he said quickly, crossing the study in two large steps to loom over you, “did you call me that?”

“Why,” you challenged back, “have you called me that for the past two months?”

Thranduil's pale eyes had not yet left your face, inches away now, searching you for any hint that you were lying or mocking him. His gaze did not waver and he finally leaned back, satisfied. “You do not know what it means. You are mocking me.”

A harsh chuckle at that. “I know exactly what it means and I am not mocking you.” You put a hand on your hip at the implied insult that you, the goddamn Queen of the Silvan Elves of the Greenwood, wife of the Elvenking, did not know the most basic endearment your people use to address their spouses and children. “Well, correction, now I am mocking you….you’re questioning my understanding of vocabulary? Well, how good is your Khuzdul, again, Thranduil? Zigil’ûl is a Dwarven term of endearment; I’m surprised you deigned to use it.” 

He hadn’t noticed “silver stream” was not in Quenya? Even with the accents? 

His eyes softened, but still anger flashed across his face as he stared down at you. “You have not answered why you are using an elven term of endearment to refer to me right now.”

You thought about pushing back. But something very fragile in his eyes made you pause. It felt like a risk but…you were willing to name a second number. 

Fine. 

A sigh. “I used this Sindarin term because it’s how I refer to you in my head.”

Thranduil cocked his head, looking at you curiously now, some of his rage fading. “How good is —“

“— I am fluent in Sindarin. We speak it fifty percent of the time we are together instead of Westron. Stop it, Thranduil.”

He did stop at that, at least for a moment, as thoughts started churning in his head. His pale eyes flicked around the room, looking at everything but you. 

A surprising sign of vulnerability from a king who would lock eyes with Manwë himself and never blink, if given the chance. If able to take that chance by force. 

“No.” Thranduil shook his head again, still refusing to meet your gaze, speaking to your bookshelf. “No, I will not stop until I understand. You said I had purchased a performance and that you would stop performing it. You just looked for the contract to show me what you were required to do as my wife.”

A pause as he turned his head toward you, but stayed facing the other direction — ready to run. 

“But, if your past behavior was a performance, then…I do not understand why you would call me melethnín in the privacy of your own mind, especially now,” he ended with a noise between a sigh and an irritated groan, still not meeting your eyes. 

You saw the issue now. He thought you showed care for him in the last two years because it was what was expected of you. 

A performance. 

Not because you actually gave a damn about him as a partner or as a husband. 

And then, you pulled back from him. Because he asked you to. Because he did not understand that caring about him was something you genuinely wanted to do. Enjoyed doing. Thranduil had not wanted to be part of a show because he…. 

He thought you were being cruel to him. As you thought he had been to you for the last two months. 

He was that wrong for two years? 

You looked up to meet his gaze. Thranduil hesitated, seeming to have the same revelation, but finding himself much less confident in the outcome. “So, please explain it. Why would you call me your love today?” he asked again, his voice so soft you barely heard him. 

Naming the third number in a row was too large of a request to concede, even for him. Even now that you understood. You needed an assurance of some kind first. 

“A counter-question, first. Have the last two months been a performance on your part, Thranduil?” Some vulnerability entered your tone, too, though you wished it had not. “I will not allow you to mock me, either.”

A pause. “The first two days were, yes.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, but he met your gaze unflinchingly. “And then I found I…I preferred it. I enjoyed being closer to you and hearing your thoughts. And I noticed the quality of your contracts improved.”

You crossed your arms. “Mmhmm,” you grunted at that.  

Thranduil cocked his head, his eyes soft now, his tone surprisingly sweet and earnest. “So if you’ll forgive those first few days, melethnín, then no, I have not been false to you once in these past months.” A brief hesitation. “Was it…Before. How you showed that you cared for me. Was that an act for you?”

You paused, considering carefully. “For the last two months, any modicum of patience I’ve shown in your presence has been an act. But no, nothing before the night…we last fought,” you ended simply. 

“Oh.” A faint blush rose to his cheeks.

You both stood there, staring dumbly at each other. 

Thranduil dipped his head in embarrassment. “It is rare, but I find even I need time to learn.”

You nodded slowly. He was telling you that he had misunderstood. Maybe he was telling you he loved you. But he remained frustratingly vague. 

You were struggling between the urge to kiss him or punch him. You tried to calculate your odds at both and concluded you’d need to do it in a specific order for it to work. Kiss first, then punch. 

A knee to the groin was the only way he won’t see it coming until it’s too late. But you also had a growing interest in that area…

No matter what you chose, you weren’t going to be fast enough. Maybe while he slept. 

“So, to summarize,” you started slowly. And then your mouth shut gently. You opened it a few more times to speak but nothing came out, so you stood there with your hand on your hip, moving your mouth like a fish. 

The politician and jackass in Thranduil got there first. “To summarize, you have been in love with me since the day we met, and over the last two months I’ve learned that there are certain merits to being the recipient of that love.”

You felt your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, and your mouth did open at that. 

The arrogance. 

“The arrogance. Absolutely not. Revise it.” 

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth but he remained silent. This was him teasing you. You’d enjoy it thoroughly in any other context. “No, you do not get to be this way with me after all of that, Thranduil…”

The smirk grew as he leaned closer to you. “I will no longer answer to that name when you use it. You’ll have to try another, melethnín.”

Fine. 

“Heconna.” Bastard. 

He raised an eyebrow at that one. “Fluent, indeed. But I have time and I can wait for you to find the correct term.”

“Pellopë.” Jackass. 

The smirk never left his face. “Yes, we’ve established that you know and use words in both Sindarin and Quenya that most Eldar would blush to hear. I’m sure this vocabulary is useful when you swear at local merchants and drink in their bars — a very queenly activity.” 

He was still teasing you. He finally had come close enough to snake his hands low around your hips, craning down at you, nothing but a blend of absolute mischief and arrogance in his pale eyes. “Mmm, I’m happy to give you a hint, wife.”

This was the most surprising day you had experienced since coming to Greenwood. And you were going to use it to your advantage as much as you could. 

Too many things were still unspoken. 

You shook your head and pulled back — gently, you still wanted him badly and your resolve was weakening the more he leaned into you. Gods, he smelled good. “Absolutely not. Not until you revise it.”

He sighed, his long fingers splayed across your lower back as he nudged you closer to his chest in return. “To summarize: Your caring behavior toward me was never an act or obligation on your part, and neither was mine. We seem to," he hesitated a beat, "Love each other, though we are quite ineffectual at speaking plainly with each other.” 

Thranduil reached out to tuck back a strand of your hair, his finger gently tracing the rounded shell of your ear as you fought to repress a shiver. “With this new understanding in mind, our marriage no longer needs to remain contractual alone, if you wish to become closer. As I do.” His fingers brushed against your face, trailing down your neck softly to trace your collarbone. His other hand kept you close against him. “Is this revision more to your liking, melethnín?”

You frowned, hands coming to rest on his chest. “Yes. But you owe me an apology for more than the last two months.”

“Yes,” he agreed softly, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “Would you like me to begin reciting my long list of sins now? Or would you prefer we kissed instead? I have a rather clear preference, but,” he shrugged over-casually. “I will make time for both.” 

You hesitated. “Both.” 

“Fine, verinya,” he murmured, gently tilting your head up towards his.

“Fine, veronya,” you whispered back against his lips. 

// AN: I'd have to leave you on a cliffhanger, so:

Túra in Quenya means "big, or great," which would capture "fine!" well enough.

Dail in Sindarin means "lovely," which I imagine can be sarcastic af coming from Thranduil, the petty bastard.

The difference in these two languages, for purpose of these idiots in love, is snobbery. Quenya is high-brow, Sindarin is what all normal people speak. He says he loves her in common tongue but calls her wife as high-brow as possible to be a jackass. Mission accomplished, Thran-daddy.

// If you enjoyed this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

[messymoonmad]

"I will fall in love with you over and over again"

(The original without the gradiant map)

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[thecoochiefairy]

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞

━━ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑛𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒𝑟 .ᐟ toji.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 18.9K word count. moving man! snake catcher! toji, third person omniscient pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, shower sex, rough sex, sweet sex, sweet talkin’, squirting, oral [f] ,choking, praising, fingering, LOTS of dirty talk, a lil degrading?, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, aggressive toji, sweetie toji, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡’𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ; 𝑙𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑒

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ hey guys, it’s been a while, life has been a pain. but i wanted to give you something sweet, cute, hot. so here you go. i love you. 🫶🏽

SHE SHOULD’VE BOUGHT CURTAINS. That’s a thought that crossed her mind, scanning through the front window that looked out into the yard. The sun was creating a warmth into the kitchen—these were things she definitely wouldn’t miss living in this house. 

There weren’t many things she would miss, but if she could think of anything she’d probably think of the happier moments. She could remember the smiles they shared between each other, the giggles that released from her lips as he made her laugh, the joy of showing her child what a family oriented household could be. All that was about to change. 

Her attention was pulled away from the window, a voice coming behind her. A hum of approval released from the person’s lips as they held a wine glass within their hand, allowing the sweetness of the liquid to ignite their taste buds. 

“You may have a horrible taste in men, but you damn sure have a good tongue for wine.” 

She turns her head at her older sister, Serena, then continuing to lean against the window with a soft shake to her head. Her sister was never the type to hold her mouth to anything or anyone—she always reminded her of just how bad she was at identifying a toxic relationship. 

“Do you really think right now is the time to be shitting on me?” 

“When will it be a good time for you to hear the truth?” 

That makes her go silent. It’s not that she wasn’t grown up enough to face reality, but she’d done enough crying about the matter of it all—being divorced at twenty-seven wasn’t something she expected. She’d known her ex-husband since she was twenty-two, falling immensely in love with one another, talking up hopes and dreams of being together forever. He showed her things no other man hadn’t, sweeping her off her feet so well that she immediately agreed to marrying him. It could’ve also been the fact that she was pregnant at the time, but she pushed that thought to the side. 

Having someone to call home had its pro’s, but it also had its many—many cons. As the years had gone by, she learned him. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, for sickness. But only being able to part ways by death wasn’t something she wanted with him, realizing he had a life made for her that she didn’t want for herself, always wanting to make choices for her. Fuck that. 

As she stared down at the princess cut on her ring finger, she thought to herself—she didn’t even like princess cut designed jewelry. He did. 

Her sister then speaks again, “Say, when is that moving company supposed to get here? Did you catch the name of any of the guys?” 

She shook her head in response, “Uh—“ checking the email as she reads, “Fushiguro, that’s the last name of the owner.”

“Is he hot?” her sister questions, smirk along her lips.

She blinks, turning towards her as she asks, “And why would that matter?”

“Well—“ Serena takes another sip of her drink, “You’re a divorcè before the age of thirty, you’re still attractive, and you’re basically a widow! I think you should hop on the next dick the second you get the chance.”

Shaking her head at her opinionated sibling, she disagrees, “Nope, no. I’m just gonna work on bringing my regular customers back in, and focus on Sai—your niece, by the way, did you forget that my child is more important than some dick, Serena?” 

“What about you though? When are you going out to have some fun? Look, I’m not saying you should hook-up the first nigga you see, but I’m just saying your life shouldn’t be entirely fufilled between your business and daughter.”

She sighs, “I wanna have fun, I’m not a grandma. But we haven’t even gotten out of this miserable ass house yet. Let me just—decompress for a bit. You know Nathan would die before I had another man around Sai so soon,” she recalls, sighing as she reaches onto the kitchen counter to grab a glass, beginning to pour some wine for herself. 

Thankfully getting off of her case, Serena then pulls back with a sigh, “Okay—Okay, I’ll get off your ass about it,” She holds up her hands in defense, “Just giving you some advice! Don’t want you to be an old spinster-ass-bitch!” 

“Girl, fuck you.” 

The both of them laugh together, humor becoming their common ground as the tension within the room falters. As they continue to talk, they notice as a steel black semi-truck pulls to the front of the driveway from the window. It’s not what either of them expected, a bright and bold serpent painted against the vehicle, yellow eyes almost three dimensional. 

“I think the moving people are here…” Serena mutters, her eyes peeking over to the window. 

At the same time, the sound of tiny feet smacking along the floor catches their attention. A pink tutu romper appears within both women’s eyes, Sai holding a doll within her hand as she raises her arms to be carried upwards. 

Serena watches as her younger sister playfully groans, pulling her up onto her hip as she smiles, “And what are you so excited for?”

“Look, mommy, we have visitors!” Sai calls, pointing out the window. 

They all looked back to the moving truck that parked just in-front of the house. When the door opens from the semi, Serena’s eyes could’ve popped out of her head. 

She notices her face as she questions, “What?” 

“Oh bitch, yo’ moving man is fine as hell!” 

Serena nearly trips as she gets closer to the window, almost pressing her face against the glass as she watches. It causes her younger sister to frown, placing her daughter back along the ground to figure out what she was going on about. 

“Girl, what the hell are you talking about—“

She halts. Her eyes follow through the window as she watches a man, no—a man step out of the large truck. She wasn’t sure if he was as pretty as an angel, or devilishly attractive. The black muscle tee and overalls he wears compliment his olive skin, the dark ink of his tattoos spread all across his large arms and what looks to be his chest, traveling beneath the fabric of his shirt. He’s tall and broad, nearly stretching everything he wears. She takes notice of a serpent tattoo that swirls around his left arm—similar to the symbol on the truck—starting from his shoulder and slithering down to his palm. She follows up to a strident face, strong jaw, full pink lips—not to mention the immense amount of ink along his neck— coming all the way up to onyx hair, a cigarette poking from his scarred lip. His dark eyebrows make a natural frown, trying desperately to hide him from the sun. 

Serena squints deeply beneath the sun hitting them as she whispers, “Who the fuck… is that? Oh—oh my god… who the hell did you hire, a moving man or an assassin?”  

She frowns, “Why an assassin?”

“Cause he can kill this—“

“Aye!” She smacks her arm, “Sai is literally right here, dumbass!” 

Serena rubs her arm as she pouts, “My bad. Damn.”

The two women in the window continue eyeing him, up until they don’t realize how hard they’re staring. The demon that essentially walks along their property takes notice of them from a distance, and he unexpectedly raises his arm with a smirk, giving a short but almost shy wave.

She turns back towards Serena and asks, “Uh…where’s Nathaniel? Did he leave?”

“Hm?” Her sister looks back at her, and her face drops into a disgusted look, “Oh—ugh—Right. Almost forgot about that prick…” 

 As she mutters to herself, the moving man begins unloading a few boxes from the truck, glancing back over towards the front window, and he notices both women looking out at him again.

He raises a dark brow to himself, setting the boxes down at the doorstep before he heads up to the front door. From the window, both the sisters could see his muscles flexing through his tight attire and the sweat that gleamed along them—and all that ink.

She makes a noise as she feels herself being pushed by Serena who exclaims, “Go open the door, stupid!” 

Rolling her eyes, she calls to her daughter as she says, “Baby girl, go up to your room, please?” 

It happened all in a matter of seconds. Before she can process her daughter’s reaction to her question, Sai’s already running towards the front door, swinging it open which causes both women to call out her name. 

“Sai!”

Once the door was open, the man almost immediately looked down at her, as if he’d seen her running through the house to be defiant. A smirk grew on his face as he squatted down, pulling the cigarette from his mouth to greet the child. 

He gives a little wave, “Hey, cutie. And who might you be?” 

From what both women could hear, his voice was deep and very…hot. 

Sai stared up at the tall man, holding her doll close to her chest as she held the door with her small fingers. Her small voice then greeted, “I’m Sai. I live here with my mommy.”

The man hums, still smiling as he crouches down to her level. He had a very muscular build but he looked surprisingly friendly, especially as scary as his stature was. 

 “Sai… that’s a very pretty name for a pretty girl…” he chuckles, “Your mother around?”

Taking a deep breath, she appears around the corner as she gently grabs for her daughter’s hand, turning her eyes back towards the man that looked even better up close. She gets a good look at him as he stands up fully, towering over her in a way she hadn’t expected. But just like her shock, he seemed to be in a state of awe—she just couldn’t see that. 

Her brown skin was a russet tone from the sun, freckles blown all around her face as her slender toffee eyes stared at him in curiosity. Dark eyebrows that arched as if she was mad or in deep thought, middle parted onyx hair that flowed in crimped waves down her back. She was different from most women he’d seen. Her pierced nose that sparkled in the light, the face tattoo on the left side of her dark and fluffy lashes. Jewelry roamed all around both of her ears, fingers, wrists. She was like a fairy. She was ethereal. 

What really stood out to him was the flower cascaded tattoo that started from her neck, traveling all the way down to her right arm, almost similar to his. He could see it from under the blue and sea green dress she wore, the material backless and having a low dip between her breasts. She was sensual, even if she just stood there.

“You can’t just be opening the door, baby,” she lightly scolds her daughter, bringing her eyes up to him as she exhales, “I’m sorry. You um—must be the movers. Fushiguro, right?”

The man still halts to take in her beauty as she stands before him. She was… stunning. His eyes glance over her body, focusing on the tattoo that traveled down her arm, his mind trying to get a glimpse of what was on her hidden skin. He almost forgets what he had to say as he just… stared at her. 

He finally speaks after he comes back to his senses, “Yeah, that’s right. But you can just call me Toji,” he answers.

“Stoney,” she introduces, placing her hand out to him. 

The man behind Toji then asks, “That’ your real name?”

She blinks, not answering for a moment. She then replies, “Got charged back in high school for throwing a rock at a girl. She lived.”

Toji chuckles at her words as he takes her hand with his own, large and rough to the touch. He takes notice of her jewelry and small hands. 

“Stoney… that’s a real unique name too,” his co-worker  comments again, watching as Toji’s hand lingers against hers for a few seconds longer. 

He glances behind him when the other guy speaks up and Toji rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Shut up already,” he mutters before looking back at her, “Anyway, where should we take your things?”

“Sorry, um—do you mind just holding on? My ex-husband should be here soon. He’s the one paying so…I just don’t want you working for free.”

“We have to get a move along,” the man behind Toji says, Stoney looking behind him. 

She puts her hair behind her ear as she nods, “Right. I’m sorry.”

Toji gives her a quick glance as she mentions her ex-husband. She’s divorced. 

“It’s alright,” Toji takes back, trying to sound at least a little bit polite, turning back towards his co-worker with a deathly stare, “He’s a dick. Don’t worry about it, we can wait.”

She takes a breath as she looks back to Toji, ignoring the other man as she says, “Thank you. Do you guys wanna …come inside? You can get some water and stuff before you get to moving shit. My daughter has already seemed to invite you into the home before I could introduce myself,” she gives a smile, Sai giggling beneath her.

Toji chuckles again, “Nah. You don’t gotta’ go through that trouble.” 

His co-worker then butts in, “Actually… some water would do us good, it’s been a damn hot day today.” 

Toji nearly glares back at him before he states, “Uh—yeah. Sure. Thank you.”

Stoney turns, beginning to pull Sai towards the kitchen with her, large hips round within the dress she wears, nearly wanting to rip through the fabric. She doesn’t notice Toji’s eyes against her. Not that it was her concern, but she was hoping he seemed the least bit physically attracted to her. Guess he didn’t. 

Her sister then greets the men as well, reaching her hand out and grabbing Toji’s as she says, “Oh wow, look at that, Stoney. Nice hands. Strong. Good for moving boxes.” 

Stoney rolls her eyes, “Please ignore my sister.”

He chuckles, “I’m good with my hands,” he replies back, shaking her hand with his own strong one before letting go. “Don’t worry.”

“So, how long have you had this company?” Serena asks, “Is it a family business, or just you?” 

Stoney passes water to both men, taking her daughter as she sits against a chair to half listen to their conversation. It’s not that she wasn’t interested, she was just more focused on texting her ex-husband for a third time. 

“I’ve had it for about four years or so.” he answers, “Nah, it’s not a family business. It’s all me.” 

“Ooh, a working man by himself. Hear that, Stoney?” Her sister pulls her attention again, giving her a smirk. 

Stoney rolls her eyes, “I hear,” she brings her eyes back up, “Having your own business is a pain in the ass.” 

“Stoney owns her own business as well,” her sister adds on, crossing her arms with a smirk as she sees Toji’s eyebrows raise.

“Really?” he questions, glancing over at Stoney sitting in the chair, “What kind of business do you have?” 

Stoney shakes her head, “It’s nothing as big as a whole moving company…I’m a ceramicists. I make stuff out of pottery—“ she then pauses to cover her daughter’s ears, “…Astray’s, bongs, plates. Shit like that. It’s not a big deal.”

Toji can’t help but smirk when she covers her daughter’s ears so she won’t hear her mother curse. He found it cute. 

“Not a big deal?” he repeats, “Shit, sounds like you make good ass money. I’ve seen some ceramicists’ work, especially glass. They make a pretty dime doing that type of work.”

“Tell that to her bastard of an ex-husband,” Serena scoffs, Stoney quickly cutting her off, “Hey. Chill.” 

Stoney then turns back to him, “Thank you. I just got back into my business. Had to put it on hold when I had Sai. So it’ll be an exciting little journey for me.”

“Well, all the power to you.” he says simply, ignoring the sisters' comments to each other beforehand,  “How old is your daughter?” 

“How old are you, baby?” Stoney looks down to the little girl, “You remember?”

“I’m four!” the little girl replies, lifting her small fingers to show her age. 

Toji lets out another chuckle at the innocence in her

 tone, “Just four years old… she’s adorable.“

“She’s actually five,” Stoney chuckles, “We’re still working on numbers. She’s moving into public school instead of the daycare she’s been in, so she’s really excited…” 

She then pauses, realizing as she’s over explaining. She only ever did that with people she was comfortable with. Or liked. 

She then pulls her hair behind her shoulder with an awkward chuckle, “Sorry. You didn’t ask all that.”

“You’re good. Keep talking to me.”

Stoney’s eyes flick up at him, seeing as he crossed his arms over his chest, awaiting for her to continue. She couldn’t help but notice the depth of his eyes, a steel grey that knocked into all of her senses. Serena raises her eyebrows, shrugging as she takes a sip of her wine. 

“I—I—um—anyways, I hope it isn’t too hot for you guys today. I can try to help as much as I can.”

Toji noticed the way she shifts within her seat. She was easily reactive. He then shakes his head, “You’re not paying me for shits and giggles. We’ve got this, no worries.” 

Sai then says, “Can I go back up to my room?” 

“Sure, baby. I’ll call you back down when it’s time to go.” 

Stoney gives her a kiss on the cheek, Sai turning back towards Toji as she says, “Are you coming with us to our new house?”

Toji smiles at Sai, “Yeah. I’ll be there,” he answers, watching as she giggles, “Yay!” before running up the stairs disappearing into her bedroom. 

He’s silent for a few seconds until he looks back over at Stoney before stating, “Your kid’s a sweet one.”

“Don’t give her too much credit, she’s a kiss-ass in front of new people.”

Her sister then disagrees, “Now you know damn well that girl don’t be all sweet on new people. She’s like a dog or a newborn, can always sniff out the good ones. You’ married, Toji?” 

“Jesus, Serena. Can the man breathe without you asking invasive ass questions?” Stoney glares. 

Her sister shrugs, “Just curious.”

“No, I’m not married.” he answers, finally taking another sip of the cold water they gave him, his dark eyes never leaving Stoney’s.

When Stoney sees that he looks directly at her while answering the question, she focuses her attention on her wine, her face becoming warm—she’s unsure if it’s the drink, or her nervousness. 

Serena then nods, “You’re extremely handsome. Any reason why you’re not married? Crazy? Commitment issues? Dead wife?”

“Girl!” Stoney gripes, “Don’t be a bitch.”

“No dead wife.” he answers back, a smirk appearing on his face, “Just haven’t found the right woman to marry.”

“Hm,” Her sister’s eyes flick him up and down as she then nods to Stoney, “Commitment issues.” 

“Alright, my sister will be leaving now!” 

Stoney stands from the chair, placing her hands on her sisters shoulders, pushing her towards the door, “The moving guys are here, so you can kick fuckin’ rocks. Goodbye!”

Toji watches as her sister leaves, not trying to hide his amused expression as Serena complains on her way out the door. She gives him a wink as she mouths, ‘Call me’, exiting the house with a loud slam to the door.  

“…I can see why you need a break from her.” Toji says with a dry chuckle, placing the now empty glass down on the nearby counter.

“Imagine coming from the same womb as her,” she sighs, turning her attention back towards her phone, rolling her eyes as she says, “I’m sorry. He should be here soon. Um…let me put a couple more boxes outside the door so it’s easier for you guys.”

Toji nods at her words, watching her as she walks off to one of the areas and brings down at least two boxes. His eyes couldn’t help but linger on her for just a few moments as she walked, his eyes boring at her ass. 

He shakes away his thoughts as she comes back into the kitchen as he asks, “You got a lot more stuff to move?”

“It’s just boxes, a lazy boy and my sofa. I hope it isn’t too heavy for you guys, I seriously don’t mind helping,” she offers, staring in between the both of them, “It’s gonna be hot, and my daughter is gonna talk your ears off while this happens, so I want to extend an olive branch.”

He shakes his head, “You don’t gotta’ worry about it, momma. We move heavy shit all the time,” he answers, his eyes locked onto hers. 

She nods, “Okay, well—how about I buy you some cigarettes? Some top dollar shit. I saw you smoking before you knocked on the door. Whatever you smoke—on me. Or I can make the both of you a little astray—Yeah?”

Toji raises his eyebrows, a little bit surprised at her offer as he asks, “You’ trying to bribe me?” giving her a smirk again as he spoke.

She giggles awkwardly, “No! No. I just—feel bad for making you guys wait. Seriously, let me do that for you. Otherwise I might cry.”

“You gonna cry if you don’t buy any cigarettes for us?” 

She was adorable. Actually adorable to him. 

She rolls her eyes, “I’m tryna’ be nice here. I could be like my hoe-ass sister.”

His chuckle is attractive to her. She didn’t mind hearing it as he then says, “That’s cool too. I’d rather you not feel like you have to do something for us, we can wait on your ex-husband.”

She then sighs, crossing her arms almost like a child. She finishes off with,  “I’m getting the cigarettes—Actually, if you don’t mind, I think you guys should at least move the sofa first. That’s the biggest thing— and the heaviest, so you can do that now. I’ll grab some more water, and the rest can wait until he gets here.”

Once he nods to his partner, she makes her way back to the kitchen, glancing at her phone and trying to call Nathaniel.  No answer. Again. As she puts her phone up to her cheek, she watches from afar as both men grunt, effortlessly picking up the large furniture. Her eyes glance over Toji’s large arms, flexing as he holds the sofa up on his shoulder. She wonders what else he can hold up in the air like that.

So much for a phone call back. As they make their way outside towards the truck, a car comes speeding into the driveway, Stoney nearly rolling her eyes as she jumps at the abrupt vehicle. Both men halted their movement, placing the sofa down as they were at alert from now fast the car was moving. 

She calls to both Toji and his partner, “You guys okay?” 

“We’re fine.” Toji answers, his eyes then falling on the now parked car, watching as the driver's seat opens. Stoney hid her irritation as her ex-husband had finally arrived back to his own house. 

“You’re late, Nathaniel.”

He steps out of the car, not at all acknowledging the truck or the two men that stand across from it. He lets out a scoff as he slams the door, “I said I’d be here at 12. I’m here now, aren’t I?” 

He then looks over at Toji and his partner, an unreadable expression on his face. “You brought movers? You don’t even have that much shit.”

“You hired them, did you forget?” She frowns, ignoring his light jab, “You’re supposed to pay them. This is your house, Nathan.”

Nathaniel smacks his lips, “I’m here, why are you still talking? You’ just wanna hear yourself complain.” 

Toji raises an eyebrow, his partner glancing at him as he fully takes his weight off of the sofa he leaned into. He asks, “You’ good?” 

Stoney blinks at the question, shaking her head as she says, “I’m okay—“

“I’m asking him.” 

When she realizes that he was asking Nathaniel, her eyebrows raise. The sweet nature he’d given off faded quickly, seeing as he looked between her and her ex-husband, his face entirely serious. She wasn’t sure why her heart was beating so fast. 

“Can you just pay them, please?” She tries to change the subject, hoping that this man stops looking at Nathaniel. His stare was deadly. 

Nathaniel frowns towards Toji before muttering, “Whatever,” shoving his hand into his pocket as he then takes out a wad of money, reaching it out to him. 

Toji doesn’t budge, flicking his eyes down to the money before looking back up at him. His partner then reaches out as he presses his lips into a thin line, taking the money himself as he politely thanks him.

Nathaniel then turns his attention back towards Stoney. He eyes her in a way that she didn’t appreciate, almost as if he was disgusted with her. 

“Don’t you think you wanna put some clothes on?” He glares at the dress she wears. 

Another thing Stoney was aware of, now that they weren’t together, he couldn’t call her insulting terms as a result of the way she dressed. But that didn’t mean his reactions didn’t hurt. She crossed her arms, biting her cheek as she turned away, making her way back into the house to keep herself from becoming upset.

His employee immediately counts it to see how much they were given, while Toji’s eyes linger on the ex-husband as he continues to speak. 

“Did she plan to get dolled up for some movers?” Nathaniel asks, scoffing once more.

Toji then interrupts, “You’ only gave us half of what you owe.”

Nathaniel’s head snaps over to Toji as if he’s shocked by the sound of his voice, as if he was surprised that he’d even spoken to him again. He snarls, “I gave you exactly what was agreed on.” 

Toji’s eye twitches at the guy’s words. He counters, “You gave us fifty percent.  We agreed that you’d pay a hundred percent upfront.”

“What are you tryna’ say? That I can’t give you the money you seem to need so badly?” Nathaniel twists his face up. 

Toji’s partner then tries to keep the peace as he calmly responds, “Sir, that’s not what we’re saying—“

“‘Fuck are you getting pissy for? You agreed to pay us a hundred percent upfront before we even showed up here,” his jaw clenching, “I was nice enough to be here longer than I was supposed to be on account of your ex-wife who apologized for your fuck up’s. I could add charges onto my shit if I wanted to.”

“Everything okay?” 

Stoney appears back outside, holding a box that she seems to struggle with a bit, her eyes falling against Toji who seems to be upset.

Toji’s eyes fall onto Stoney when she appears back outside, and for a moment he had almost forgotten about her from how pissed he was. His irritation and anger towards Nathaniel quickly melted away just at her presence.

“Everything’s fine,” Toji flatly answers, when in reality he wanted to choke-slam this man through his own vehicle. 

Nathaniel laughs mockingly to himself, shaking his head with disbelief, “Of course, it’s fine. This mover is just giving me a hard time for some extra cash.” 

Toji’s jaw clenches again. Yeah, he was definitely creating a hole in the front of his raggedy ass car—with him in it. But before he can retaliate, he remembers Stoney struggling with the box in her hands. He comes up to her as he takes the item from her arms, essentially trying to calm himself. 

“Nathaniel, please stop being rude. Whatever else needs to be covered, I got it,” she brushed off, not wanting a scene to happen in the drive through. 

She watches as Toji then comes forward to take the box from her hand, a breath releasing from her as she exhales with a weak smile, “Thank you, you’re sweet. Um—is everything really okay?” She asks more softly.

Her ex-husband mutters something under his breath as he makes his way past them to go into the house, Toji paying him no mind. His eyes stay focused on Stoney, seeing as she follows behind him towards the truck. 

“I’m good,” he reassures, “Your ex-husband’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

That makes her quietly laugh, “World renowned news. How about I go get those cigarettes, and then we meet back up to head to my place, yeah?”

The corner of Toji’s lips twitches into a smirk once more at her words. He felt comforted by her, it felt strange. 

“Yeah, that’s fine with me,” he answers back, letting out another subtle chuckle, “We’re almost done loading the heavy furniture anyways…just the smaller stuff left.”

She nods, “Good. Don’t worry about him. He’s…a stupid-head,” she rolls her eyes.

“A stupid-head, huh?” 

“Dare I say— an idiot-box. Anyways, let me go. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

 She waves him off with another smile, hips twisting naturally as she makes her way towards her car. Toji watches her walk to her car, his eyes catching glimpses of her ass once again as she walks, a sight that he definitely wasn’t complaining about. 

“See you…” he says back, his eyes lingering on her until she disappears into the car.

About an hour passes, by the time she arrives back to a place she used to call home, she holds a plastic bag with a couple of cigarette cartons, new paint bottles, and gloves for her future projects. 

The moment she pulls into the driveway, her daughter comes running outside. She halts the car, stepping out as she gripes, “Jesus, Sai! Please don’t run in front of Mommy’s car.”

“I’m sorry, mommy!” Sai pouts, running towards her anyways, coming up to her mother and hugging her leg. 

Stoney reaches down and scoops up the girl into her arms, picking her up quickly, “You gotta be careful, baby. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Okay, mommy,” Sai replies, her voice still young and high. 

Toji and his partner watch as Stoney scoops the girl up into her arms, his eyes flickering between her and her daughter as she walks closer to them. 

She presses a kiss to Sai’s cheek, which makes her giggle. She then turns to Toji, seeing as the sun now has him drenched in sweat, dripping down his arms and into his shirt���his overalls now pulled down past his hips— the sight making him look even more attractive. 

She brings her focus back to his face as she asks, “Uh…you guys ready to go?”

He lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead, the fabric getting stuck to his skin for a moment. He then looks over to her again when she speaks, his eyes flickering down to the plastic bag in her hand. 

“Yeah, we’re ready,” he answers back, nodding.

Once she puts all of the rest of her things into her car, it takes them about thirty minutes to get to her house. It looked almost similar to a condo, the divorce settlement paying off the debt of this house—a place her and her daughter could grow up together. Maybe start a family of their own—without her ex-husband. But unfortunately, he was always going to be Sai’s father. 

As she opens the door, she watches as Sai gasps excitedly at the home. She giggles as she runs around the halfly furnished home, spinning in circles with all the room she has. 

 Stoney smiles, “You like it, baby?”

“I love it, mommy!” 

 Toji and his partner trailing behind them, the both of them taking a glance around, silently observing the place before Toji comments,  “Nice house.”

Stoney sighs, “The bastard paid for it. Not by choice. Word of advice, don’t not sign a pre-up to someone you won’t end up with. Otherwise, they’ll strip you for all you have,” she winks, scanning her eyes around the black and white modern home.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” he mentions, a small grin forming across his lips. 

His partner lets out another subtle chuckle from his side.  The two of them follow behind her and the little girl as she shrugs, “Heard that from a friend or something.”

A marble white kitchen island stretched for days on end. It was a beautiful sight, and she felt blessed to have this with her baby girl. Sai’s bedroom was upstairs, Stoney’s bedroom large and on the first floor, tilting right across from the front door to where she could see onto her porch. It was perfect.  She watches as they begin bringing more boxes inside, having a thought resurface that had her curiosity peak. 

“So, what’s with the snake on the side of your truck?”

At her question, both of the men looked over at where she was looking. Toji sees the logo on the side of the truck and then looks back at her. 

“Thought’ it was cool, it also symbolizes the power of healing,” he briefly explains.

“He’s full of shit. The crazy bastard catches snakes in his downtime,” his partner concludes.

Stoney’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. There was no way in hell she'd actually heard him say that.  She exclaims, “Oh hell no! I’d rather die than be inches close—feet close—FOOTBALL field feet close to a snake!”

His partner laughs, Toji rolling his eyes at her words, “It’s not that bad, I promise you,” he answers back. 

His partner lets out another laugh, “He’s lying. It’s terrible.” 

As Toji shoots a glare at his friend, Stoney then interrupts, “Sounds terrible. Do you like catching them? What happens after you catch them?” 

Toji looks at her as he’s asked the questions, watching the confused yet concerned expression on her face. Her brown eyes sparkle in curiosity. 

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” he teases, a smirk forming across a smug smile. He chuckles, “It’s not terrible, seriously. If it’s a business call, it’s to remove them from jobs, apartments or houses. Recreationaly? I just like to catch them, take some pictures with them and then let them go.”

“Yeah—no. You could give me a billion dollars, and a unicorn that shits a hundred dollar bills. I still wouldn’t touch a snake. That was made by the devil!” She shivers.

Toji lets out another laugh as she speaks, finding her words to be amusing despite how over the top they may have been. He’ll admit that snakes aren’t the most appealing creatures, but they’re not the worst. 

“I promise you, they’re not as bad as you think they are,” he answers back, lifting up one of the furniture pieces with his partner, “And they’re more scared of you then you are of them.”

“Bullshit! If it was more scared of me, it wouldn’t bite me! Or be poisonous!” She follows behind them, going around to open the door wider for them to pull the sofa in.

“You don’t have to worry about them biting you if you leave them alone, momma,” he counters. 

His partner laughs as he walks backward through the door, helping Toji carry the furniture as he instigates,  “You’d be surprised at how many times he gets bitten.”

“And you lived?! Is a premonition moving my boxes right now?” 

“You mean apparition?” His friend asks.

“Whatever the fuck!” She exclaims back.

“Y’all are dramatic as fuck,” Toji finalizes. His partner lets out another laugh from his words, rolling his eyes as they finally get the furniture into the home.

She then says, “My sister might’ve been right. Maybe you are crazy.” 

The moment she hears both men chuckle, Sai then comes back into the living room as she calls, “Mommy! Did you ask Daddy about my orchids?”

Stoney sighs, remembering the promise she’d made to her daughter earlier that morning. She nods, “Yes, baby. Let me ask again, okay?”

When she sees a look of confusion along Toji’s face, she shakes her head as she explains, “Sai wanted to start a garden since the front door kinda has a porch area. She always loved plants, I guess she essentially found an art for herself. She wants orchids as her first flowers.”

“Orchids, huh?” he comments, his attention returning to her, “She’s got an expensive ass taste.”

Stoney rolls her eyes, “Very. But—gimme’ a second? Let me make a call, and I’ll be back.” 

She gives a soft smile, turning away from them as she makes her way back outside, going to grab for the bag of groceries she’d bought earlier that included their cigarettes. She calls Nathaniel, sighing as he doesn’t pick up until the last ring. 

“Hey—uh, did you end up buying those orchids for Sai today? I sent you those pink ones I saw, they were at a florist not too far from your place. I checked already.”

Nathaniel lets out a scoff as he answers the phone, “That’s what you’re calling me about? No, I haven’t.” 

He sounds irritated, like he’s got more important things to do then to buy some flowers. Stoney could feel herself becoming more irritated than he seemed. 

“I’ll get them when I get the chance,” he finalizes bluntly.

“…But she asked for them today, Nathan. You told me you were gonna get them for her, otherwise I would’ve gotten them myself?” 

She brings her eyes towards the front door as she sees Toji and his partner adjusting the sofa within the living room, trying to keep her composure. She also didn’t realize that Toji could practically hear her conversation.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know I said I would,”

Nathaniel responds, not really sounding all too interested in talking to her.

There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again, “What’s the big deal? They’re just flowers.”

“That’s not the point. I just wish you would’ve done it today. It might be flowers to you, but it’s more than that for her.”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of some flowers? I just said I’ll buy her the damn flowers, it doesn’t have to be today,” He answers back, annoyance clear in his tone.

She usually was very patient with this man. But from making a comment about her outfit, to snapping at the movers, to even now. She’d had enough of him for today. 

“Fuck off, don’t worry about it.”

She hangs up the phone, muttering, “Stupid ass nigga,” turning away from the front door as she feels her frown turning into frustrated tears, but she takes a deep breath to drop herself from doing that. She can feel her phone vibrating in her hands, Nathan seemingly trying to call her back after being cussed out. 

Nonetheless, she puts on a little smile as she makes her way back into the house, “Hey. I just—wanted to bring you guys your cigarettes.”

When she returns back into the home, he and his partner are in the midst arranging her furniture, both of them pausing for a moment. Toji notices her facial expressions and her hands clenching, clearly frustrated, which isn’t too surprising given that he can only assume who was the cause of that. 

“You’ good?” He questions, his eyes watching her carefully.

She scans his face, blinking. She then lies, “I’m perfect,” the question bringing tears to gloss in her sockets, but she quickly blinks them back. She didn’t mean for him to see that, but she just hopes he gets the message to not ask. 

“Um, well—you guys have really been amazing. I think I can take it from here. I just want me and Sai to enjoy the peace within our new home, yeah?”

Toji can see the way that her eyes glossed a little at the question, but he doesn’t bring it up in order to not further anger her. He doesn’t know if it’s his place to ask, so he leaves it be. 

“No worries,” he answers back, an attractive but kind smile forming across his lips, “It’s our job, after all. We’ll leave you to the rest of it, then.”

She watches as the other friend washes his hands within the kitchen sink, nodding his head as he begins to make his way out the door. She comfortingly plays with her hair again, lifting the plastic bag to Toji with a weak smile, “You’re really sweet, Toji. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Stop thanking me, I’m just doing my job, momma. Thank you for giving me some shit to do today,” her counters, taking the bag from her hands, his fingers brushing against her own that creates a jolt against her palm. 

With him being so respectful, she couldn’t tell if there was any spark between them—or he was just truly professional. When he said that, it made her realize that her feelings might’ve just been a spur of the moment—a distraction— a need to feel something that wasn’t the loathing of her ex-husband.

She pulls her hair behind her ear, multicolored studs climbing up her lobes as she finalizes, “Of course, yeah.”

Toji can see the way that she pulls back her hair, showing off the collection of piercings in her ear and on the sides of her face. He can see how they sparkle every time they’re met with the light, causing his eyes to stare at them for a little bit, almost admiring them. 

“I hope the move goes well,” he says, returning his gaze back to her, that same smirk returning back to his lips, “It was nice meeting you, Stoney.”

“Nice meeting you too.”

She feels almost as if she’s dissociating. She doesn’t even have time to react as Sai comes up behind her, politely waving, “Bye-bye! I’m gonna play with my dolls in my new room!”

Toji watches as her daughter comes up from behind her. He waves back with a small chuckle. “Bye, pretty girl,” he says to Sai. 

However, his eyes linger on Stoney for a moment, still unable to tell exactly what it is that she’s thinking or feeling.

She’s then pulled back into focus as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out what seems to be a business card. He takes her hand as he puts it within her palm, Stoney’s head leaning up as he’s closer than he’d been to her before.

Her head lifts up as her eyes widen slightly at the sudden closeness to him, watching as he leans just a little bit closer to her. 

“If you ever need anything, I’m an instant call away,” he says in a low tone, his eyes looking down at her.

She pressed her lips together at that. Hearing his tone of voice, it’s still quite vague. But maybe it’s…something. 

She nods her head, “Yeah, sure. Thank you.” 

“Yo, Fushiguro! Let’s be out!” His partner calls from the truck, arm out the window as he pats the side of the vehicle, pressing the horn lightly for his attention.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” he calls back at his partner, but not before returning his attention back to Stoney, “Imma’ go. See you around.”

“Enjoy your um…cigarettes?” 

She tries to be polite, but she suddenly has the urge to cry. Why was she so sensitive? She’s not sure what about, but she really wants him to leave before she does so.

Toji can sense the way that her voice changes slightly, her tone and her words almost seeming like a subtle cue to tell him to leave and go now. He knows that there’s a change in the air, and something is…off. Either way, he doesn’t mention it. 

“Of course. I always do,” he chuckles, looking down at the cigarettes for a moment before looking back up at her, “Bye.”

She felt dramatic. Like a piece in that puzzle was missing. Like the ocean was filled with no water. To watch him walking away, catching sight of the broadness within his back was the last time she’d ever see it. She wasn’t sure if that’s what she wanted, but as she closed the door, she had to let it be. 

She then turned towards Sai, “Hungry, baby girl?”

                            °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧚

The next couple of days were better than she expected. She had used them as her own personal manic episode, getting no sleep as she made her new home an actual home. Green-leafed plants and flowers tracked all around the condo, dark rugs, paintings along the walls and art sculptures seated in different corners. 

She’d even created her space to work, an emerald rug along the floor with a couple of used t-shirts atop of it, above sitting the pottery wheel that was already dirty from a previous client's order. It was an apricot and pale blue mixture that created a Lillie flower, formed into an astray. Blank canvases also sat on easels in her station. She painted every once in a while if she really needed to express herself. 

She didn’t know how she ended up with a drawing that was a pair of gray eyes, staring over the picture until it meant something to her. Or maybe she was in denial—she knew exactly who they belonged to and what they represented. 

As the rest of the day passed by, she spoke to her sister about the smooth move she had, saying nothing as Serena complained to her about Nathaniel. She hung up the phone, wanting to cut that conversion short. 

It was now the evening, the sun still out but beginning to set soon. It was beaming outside. She helped her daughter water all the plants they’d begun to collect, making sure they got their nutrients for the day as they sat outside. When they finished with their project, she took Sai into the house as it was time for her bath, wanting to get her on a good sleeping schedule as she would begin school soon. She sat next to her against the tub as she played in the water, staring down at the picture she took of the canvas with the gray eyes. 

“Mommy? Did daddy say he was gonna bring me my pink orchids today?”

Stoney looks up at her, sighing at the question. She then says, “Of course, baby. Yeah. Um—He’ll bring them to you on your first day of school.”

Sai then cheers, “Yay!” clapping her hands, which causes Stoney to playfully clap with her, giggling to see her daughter so excited. Be damned if Nathaniel’s disappointments, she refused for her daughter to know of them. She was gonna make her happy whether he did his part or not— she’d get her a thousand pink orchids if she had to.

That happy moment quickly subsided. As she continued to sit with her daughter and stare at her phone, she could suddenly hear a noise that sounded unfamiliar to her. She frowns, sitting upward as she looks around, her body on high alert as it sounded like…hissing? 

When she turned her eyes towards where the sound was coming from—which belonged to the toilet— her eyes stretched in horror. 

The creature slithered its way out of the bowl, tracking its way out of the toilet as it had its eyes set on both Stoney and her daughter. 

She screamed as if it was a ten-pound rat, taking a towel as she snatched Sai from the tub, scurrying into her daughters bedroom as if that would protect them from the venomous beast.

Sai’s face instantly turns white as she sees the creature slither out of the bowl in the toilet, letting out an equally loud scream. Stoney’s eyes were wide with terror as she slammed the door behind her, now ducking in the corner of the pink room. 

Sai’s eyes widen as she looks up at her mother, tears forming in her eyes,  “M—Mommy,” she whimpers.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s fine—it’s just—fucking hell!” She curses, quickly drying her child as she tries to find her some clothes, “Let’s call daddy, okay? Wanna go look at our garden on the porch while we wait for him?”

Stoney’s body still shook with fear as she quickly dried her daughter off, trying not to let her see just how scared she herself really was. She tries to find some clothes for her, quickly dressing her as her heart rate skyrocketed. 

“Y-Yeah, let’s go to the porch and wait for daddy, alright?” she repeats again, trying to hide the terror in her voice. Sai nods her head, too scared to do or say anything else.

She was petrified of snakes. She’d always been, but she never had a reason to be this scared as she’d never seen one in person—at least not this close in vicinity. And now one was slithering around in her bathroom—in her home. Thinking on her feet, she placed the towel she’d dried Sai off with under the door, making sure it couldn’t escape anywhere else in the house.

 When she got her daughter dressed, she picked her up and took her outside, nearly wanting to vomit if she stayed in the house any second longer. Chills ran up her spine at a constant, just hearing the sound of it hissing in her ears. She paced back and forth as Sai sat in a chair on the porch, watering another plant of theirs with a doll in her hand, Stoney sighing as she waited for Nathaniel to answer the phone after her fourth time calling.

Stoney’s heart couldn’t stop racing, trying to hide her panic and her fear from her daughter. She felt sick to her stomach. 

“Please pick up…please pick up…” she whispered under her breath as the phone rang.

“Jesus, what is it?” Nathaniel finally picks up, answering in a sharp tone.

It’s almost as if her fear had ran away for a moment, being replaced with pure dread of this man’s tone. She ignores it as she tells him, “Nathan, I need you to come over. Like right now.”

“What, now? I’m right in the middle of a client, why do you need me so badly?” 

“I—there’s a fucking snake in Sai’s bathroom! And you know I am literally about to shit myself at the thought. Can you come get it, please?” She practically begs him.

When he hears her mention a snake being in their bathroom, he can’t help but scoff into the phone. This only worsens her frustrated and panicked state. 

“Seriously? It’s just a snake. Why do you always have to overreact to everything?” he says dismissively, clearly not taking her fears seriously.

“…I have literally been afraid of snakes since you met me, Nathan. Please don’t do this. Your daughter is also extremely afraid of them.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m aware. But is it really something I need to come over and take care of right this minute? I’m in the middle of a meeting,” he says, clearly more worried about his client than his child’s fears.

“Um, yes? Don’t you think your daughter’s safety is more important? We’re sitting outside and it’s hot as fuck, Nathan! Sai has school tomorrow and I want to get her to bed. Trust me when I say, you’re the last nigga I want to be calling right now.”

“Can’t you just capture it and let it loose outside?” 

“Capture it—you’ tryna’ be funny? Have you lost your mind? I’d rather the motherfucker pay rent and utilities before I go head to head with it!” She exclaims.

 She realizes that he’s no help. Taking a deep breath,  another resolution comes to her mind. It’s like a flash of her memories reflects the idea, the grey eyes within her picture blaring her thoughts. 

She then says, “You know what? I’ll figure it out. Bye.” 

He smacks his lips, “Bye.” 

As she hangs up the phone, she quickly runs into the house as she goes for her room, scattering around as she searches her dresser for something. When she finds it, she pulls the business card in front of her face, rolling her lips into her mouth as she quickly makes her way back outside, leaning against her front door with a sigh. 

She’s extremely hesitant as she dials the number. She knows it’s way past the business hours it says along the card. She feels terrible—but she also hopes he picks up. 

“Fuck,” she mutters, listening to the phone ring, “C’mon…”

The phone rang several times, each ring making her anxiety and panic grow more and more with each passing second. Her heart was racing, her hands were shaking, and she was feeling like she might actually go through with vomiting. 

“Hello?”

The familiar voice of Toji fills the other line, her whole body nearly about to go into shock as he picks up groggily. Oh god, had he been asleep? 

She wanted to jump for joy. She lets out the breath she’d been holding. Realizing that she probably sounds like a maniac breathing through the phone, she stutters, “T—Toji? Hi. Sorry. Shit. Fuck. Um—this is Stoney, do you…remember me?”

“Yeah. I remember you.” 

He can hear the panic and urgency in her tone, causing him to sit up straight, fully awake now, deep voice still lightly tired as he asks,  “What’s going on?” 

“I’m sorry. Oh my god, you were sleep. I’m so sorry. I mean it’s a little pass the sun setting, but—you probably been moving shit all day. Fuck. I’m so so sorry,” she sighs, “I’m a bad person. Fuck.”

Toji sighs into the phone, “Stop apologizing. I was just dozing off, don't worry about it,” he says, his voice still sluggish. He rubs his eyes, trying to wake himself up further, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I know it’s pass your business hours, but—t—there’s a snake in my daughters bathroom. My baby’s bathroom. And I have a really bad fear of snakes, and I literally am holding back my gagging as I’m talking about it. I—“ she presses her hand to her forehead, trying to fan herself with her free hand, “I tried to call my ex-husband and this bitch-ass-nig—ooh, lemme’ not get myself mad. He said he was too busy with a client. I’ll pay whatever you need, I just—please come catch this fucking snake before I actually have a mental breakdown.”

Toji can sense the sheer terror and panic in her voice as she explains the situation to him, and he can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. She was right, he was tired from moving another house today. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to help. 

He sighs into the phone once again, rubbing his eyes, “I’m coming. Stay outside and don't go back in the house, okay?” he instructs her.

“Okay. Yeah. Of course, w—was gonna do that anyway. Please hurry, my baby has school tomorrow and she’s already sleepy, I can’t have her outside like this.”

“I’ll be there, Stoney.”

A grueling hour and a half passes, the sun setting yet it was still hot outside. Her attention peaks as she comes to see a sleek black Chevrolet Silverado 1500 pull in front of her yard. Heavy boots from days ago boomed along the ground as Toji steps out. 

He seems to be more comfortable today, the white compression shirt he wears clinging to his muscular frame, making the ink that hides within his chest and neck pop more against his olive skin and onyx hair. The black Nike cargos her wears don’t really match the shoes he wore, but she knew in the way she called, his attire didn’t seem to be his biggest concern.

 She couldn’t help but be reminded of how damn fine he was. She even felt slightly embarrassed as she stood in a hello-kitty oversized t shirt—her daughters favorite character—her hair claw clipped out of her face, square glasses along her face. 

As Toji makes his way to the porch, he can't help but notice how naturally pretty she looks, even in her oversized t-shirt and hair claw. He smirks to himself, feeling almost a little guilty for thinking of how attractive she is in this situation.

He stops a few steps away from her, seeing the fear and anxiety still etched on her face. He asks, "You holding up alright?" his voice a bit softer now.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Uh—sorry that I’m literally half naked right now. Should’ve grabbed some pants or something,” she apologizes, pulling her hair behind her ear reflexively before she pulls her hair out of the entire clip, letting it fall and trying to tame it down with her long acrylic nails. The shirt was big enough to cover her lower body, but he could still see the shape of her hips, her ass wanting to poke beneath the fabric. 

Sai sits up along her chair, leaning on the bar of the porch as she sees the familiar man. She greets with a gasp, “It’s you!”

“Wassup’, little one. You remember me, huh?” he asks, his voice still gentle.

Sai nods, “Are you coming to kill the bad evil snake in our house?” She tilts her head, “I don’t want him to eat my teddy bears. Or my hello-kitty. I’ll be really sad.”

Toji chuckles at her answer, finding her worry over her stuffed animals endearing. "Don't worry. I won't let the snake eat your stuffed animals," he reassured her.

He looks back at Stoney, raising an eyebrow at her. "How big is this snake anyway?" 

“Big as fuck. Literally big as the fucking-fuck,” her voice goes back into panic, “I know I’m dramatic, but that hoe was large. Not even normal enough to be in someone’s fucking drain. Probably was poisonous. What if I was on the toilet? I would’ve literally died from a snake bite in my ass,” she pressed her hands to her chest, leaning against the porch frame at the thought, “I’m about to rip my fuckin’ sew-in out.”

He squints, “I don’t think you can rip that out, don’t you have to cut it?”

She narrows her eyes at him. She then squints, “How you’ know that? Why do you know that?” 

He shrugs as she then shakes her head, “Nevermind. We’re wasting time when that snake is having a fuckin’ kickback in my bathroom.”

"Don't worry, I won't let the snake bite your ass,” he says, his tone a bit more playful now.

She turns to him, “Are you laughing? This shit funny? If I wanted someone to make fun of me I would’ve called my ex-husband! I’m literally about to cry,” she shakes her head, feeling tears forming at his amusement. She knows she’s dramatic, but she’s scared.

Toji sighs, realizing that she's not appreciating his attempts to lighten the mood. He takes a deep breath and steps closer to her, taking her hands into his.

"Cut that shit out, I'm not trying to make fun of you. I'm sorry," he says sincerely, looking into her eyes. "I understand you're scared, and I'm not here to laugh at you. I'm here to help."

She nods her head, sniffling, “Okay. Okay,” squeezing her palms together within his hands as she takes a deep breath.

"Good. Just keep taking deep breaths, alright? I'm gonna go in there and get rid of the snake, and then everything will be fine. Just stay right here with Sai, okay?"

She nods her head, watching as he enters the house. She then calls, “Please don’t die! I don’t have insurance on this place yet!”

"I'll make sure to tell the snake about your insurance policy!" 

A weak laugh pulls from her at that, and she somewhat felt relieved. It feels like time drags by as she waits for him. Once almost thirty minutes passes, she takes a sleepy Sai back into the house as she allows her to lay on the sofa. 

She hesitantly makes her way towards the bathroom as she calls, “Toji?” Slowly peeping her head into the door.

As Stoney peeks her head into the bathroom, she finds Toji standing there, looking completely unfazed by the snake that was coiled up in the bathtub. He's leaning against the counter, examining the snake with a mix of curiosity and nonchalance.

He looks over at her as she calls his name, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?" he responds, his voice relaxed.

She stares in between the snake and him, “Oh hell, not the bitch taking a bath!” She exasperates, “Uh—y’all having a conversation or something ? You’re not gonna kill it?”

"Nah, just getting to know each other," he says, an amusement in his tone. 

He pushes himself off the counter, walking towards the snake and going to pick it up as he says, “It’s a garter snake—practically harmless. Can’t do shit to me or you.”

Just when he says that, the snake pounces forward, wrapping it’s mouth along his arm where his tattoo sat. Stoney squeaked, throwing her hands over her mouth as she backed up again. 

“Oh my god!” She panicked, “Are you okay? Are you gonna die?!” 

Toji shakes his head. He’s completely unfazed as he picks it up with ease, holding it in his hands as if it were a piece of rope before he replies, “He’s just a little pissed off. It’s not venomous.” 

The snake wraps itself around his bicep, almost becoming comfortable against his forearm. He brings himself closer to Stoney as he shows her, “See? He’s good now.”

She covers her eyes, “That’s not the thing I saw earlier! He turned into a baby snake so he could make me feel stupid!” She shrieks through her hands, covering her now red face.

"This is the only snake I see here. You sure you're not just seeing things?" 

She pulls her hands down slowly, looking at the small creature. Instead of it being the rattle snake she saw within her mind, it had beady eyes, no thoughts within its brain. It might not have even had full on teeth. 

She looks at it again, “A garter snake?”

"Nothing dangerous, I promise," he reassures her, gently stroking the snake's head with his finger.

“It wouldn’t have bit me in my butt?” She questions.

"No, it wouldn't have bitten you in your ass,” he chuckles, “Garter snakes don't bite unless they feel threatened, he tried to escape earlier when he saw me, so he was a little irritated. Wanna see—“

“Aht—okay, that’s too much. Harmless, I can believe. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she shakes her head, backing up against the wall within the hallway. 

“You were acting like his ass was a damn python.”

“Fushiguro, take you and your cousin outside before I become the scariest thing in this bathroom.” 

“Who knew me and your ex-husband were related?”

She gives him a blank stare, “You’ think you’re funny?”

“A little,” he mutters, going past her out of the bathroom as he coos, “C’mon, Nathaniel. Outside where you belong…”

She rolls her eyes as she mutters, “My hero.” 

Sai was on the sofa dozing off, eyes becoming wide as she watched Toji walk past her.  She sits halfway up from the seat, as she expresses shockingly, “Woahhh! Mommy—a snake!” 

“A demon!” Stoney corrects, coming around the corner, “He’s going back outside with his family. Say bye to Toji’s friend.”

“Bye Toji’s friend!” Sai waves.

“Thought Sai was afraid of snakes? Or were you just using that as a coverup for your fear?” He teases, waving at her as he walks outside towards the trees. 

She warns, “Hey, not too much on me and my fears.”

When he released it outside, she leaned against the porch door, her eyes watching his muscular figure and broad back flex as he stood back up. 

She then sighs, “Thank you, Toji. Seriously. I thought I was gonna die. How much do I owe you?”

"Don't worry about that," he says, waving his hand dismissively, "I’m good on the money. Got more than enough.”

She crosses her arms, “Well my bad, pimp, since you got it like that. You’ sure though?  Maybe I can get you another pack of cigarettes or something? Although in these last couple of days, I hoped you’d kicked your bad habit.”

"Unfortunately I’m still an addict, maybe I’ll sleep it off.”

She rubs her arms, laughing awkwardly at his response. She then apologizes, “Um…well thank you again, you’re a sweetheart. I’m really sorry I woke you up.”

“What did I tell you about that constant apologizing shit? You’re fine, Stoney.” 

She blinks for a moment, watching as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket, searching for his lighter in the other. His voice could be rough, but he was the complete opposite. 

“Boy, hush. Anyways—was traffic bad or something? I was worried something happened to you, it almost took you two hours to get here.”

If only she knew that Toji nearly lived an hour and a half outside of town, she wouldn’t have called him. 

Toji hesitates for a moment, not wanting to reveal how far it actually took him to get there. But he figures there's no point in lying to her now.

"Nah, traffic was fine," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "I just live kinda far, that's all. Almost an hour and a half from here."

“What?!” She panics, “Toji, what the hell? I wouldn’t have asked you to come? I would’ve called the fire department—or Jesus himself, they would’ve been easier to get than you! Fuckin’ hell, I’m so sorry.”

“Stoney.” 

“It’s literally late as hell for you to be driving…”

She thinks on what she’s about to say, wondering if this was crazy for her to ask. She figured, fuck it. 

“How about you’ stay here tonight? I can order whatever you like, you can rest up for tomorrow, I have no projects for tonight so—you can sleep peacefully, I promise me and Sai are quiet.”

Toji raises an eyebrow at her suggestion, surprised by her offer. "Stay here for the night, huh?" he says, mulling it over in his mind.

He couldn't deny that the thought of a comfortable bed and a quiet night to sleep sounded appealing. 

"I mean, if it's really no trouble," he says, a smirk on his face. "I won't say no to a free meal and a comfy bed."

“Thank god, I thought I was gonna have to kidnap you. Well, c’mon then, snake whisperer.” 

She turns away from him, the natural sway in her hips returning as her slender eyes blink back at him in a way that looked more sensual than he expected. 

Her voice goes soft as she then asks, “You’ coming?”

As Toji watches her walk away, his eyes drift down, taking in the alluring sway of her body. He shakes off the thoughts as he forces his eyes back up to her face.

"Yeah, I'm coming," he replies, his voice slightly huskier than usual.

She ends up putting Sai to bed as she notices her dozing off along the sofa. As she walks up the stairs, Sai gives a soft, “Bye snake-man,” to Toji, a tired wave coming from her tiny hand.

Toji can't help but smile at the sound of Sai's sleepy voice. "Bye," he says, waving back at her.

She clasped her hands together as she came back down the stairs, noticing as Toji was now looking around her living room, an eye now on the painting she’d created. The gray eyes. Shit. 

She tries to distract him as she asks, “Uh—anything you feel like eating in particular?”

Toji nods as he looks at the painting on the easel, his gaze lingering on the gray eyes painted along the canvas. He can't help but feel a strange sense of familiarity, but he shakes the feeling off as he looks away.

"I'm not picky, I'll eat whatever.”

She sighs, “You’re such a simple man. You must get that from your father,” she tells him, going into the kitchen as she exhales, “How about pizza? It’s simple, I know. But I’ve been doing projects for the past couple of days with moving so— I’m all out of energy to cook, otherwise you would’ve gotten a four course meal.”

"Pizza sounds good," he says, a small smile on his face. "And trust me, I'm not complaining, I think I’ll survive without the four course meal."

“Great,” she agrees, going into her phone as she begins ordering online. She then brings her eyes back to him as she then asks, “Hm…how about, some wine? My sister was in love with this bottle, maybe you’ll like it too?”

“I trust your sisters opinions, shit is probably good.”

“Oh? I thought you said she was too much at one point?” She raises an eyebrow, pulling out a wine glass and a regular glass cup.

"She is. That doesn’t make her less intelligent," he adds, a hint of a challenge in his voice, "I trust you too, you know. I trust that you wouldn’t give me a shitty glass of wine."

“You trust me? How do you know I’m not a succubus trying to suck your lifeline?” She questions, not directly looking at him. For the time they’d known each other, he hadn’t directly flirted with her. She was trying to test the waters, seeing if he’d take the bait.

At her comment about being a succubus, Toji lets out a hearty laugh. He smirks at her question, his eyes watching her intently. He leans forward a bit, his muscles flexing under his t-shirt.

"I think I’ll be fine,” he replies, voice smooth.

Hearing that almost was like a slap in the face. Maybe she was just bad at flirting. This man didn’t seem the least bit interested in her, why did she keep trying?

She pours his glass within the cup as she hands it to him politely, sighing at her failed attempts at flirting as she says, “Tell me how it tastes.”

As he takes the cup of wine from her, he can’t help but notice the shift in her demeanor. She suddenly seemed deflated, her shoulders slumping slightly. He then takes a small sip of the wine, swishing it around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.

"Hm. It’s not bad," he says, his voice nonchalant. "It’s smooth and fruity, with a bit of a kick. I’d give it a seven out of ten.”

“Seven? I spent thirty dollars on that bottle! Better make that shit an eight!” She exclaims. She shakes her head, “I can’t take your opinion anyways, you like snakes!”

Toji laughs at her excalamarion,  "What, a seven isn’t good enough for your ass? I thought I was being generous," he teases. "Just cause I like snakes doesn’t mean I have a bad taste in wine. I’ll lie and give it a nine out of ten. Just for you.”

“Thank you,” she flips her hair, “I use to do wine tasting with my ex-husband all the time. Well— I’d be there and he’d just kinda sulk the entire time. A bit depressing now that I’m explaining,” she laughs awkwardly, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get all…sad.”

“You’re good, he seems like a pain in the ass.”

She nods her head, jewelry blaring under the light as she moves her hair from her face, “Pain in the ass is an understatement for sure.” 

As she takes a sip of her wine, she begins to notice the eyes that fall upon her. Her skin feels warm, turning towards him as she akwardly laughs, “What?”

He smirks at her question, his gaze unwavering. "What?" he echoes, his voice deep. "I'm just looking at you."

She nods, a small roll to her eyes as a knock comes to the door. She then says, “Probably the pizza,” stepping off of the table as she goes to pay the delivery person.

Just as she attempts to do so, she feels a body come behind her, the warmth of him nearly sending her body into a shock, a large arm reaching out as he hands the man whatever the amount was owed. 

She can’t protest before the door closes in her face, “Hey! I was supposed to pay,” her back against the door as he shuts it behind her, arm next to her head as the other holds the pizza box in his hands.

Toji chuckles at her protest, enjoying the way she pouts a bit like a child being told she can’t have a cookie before dinner. He stands close enough to her that she can feel the heat radiating off his body, his arm resting against the door just above her head. He looks down at her, a sly smirk on his face. 

"I’m the man, momma. I was supposed to pay regardless.” 

Her head is forced to tilt up at him a bit, the heat of his body catching her off guard. She could admit to herself it had been a while that she had been this close to a man—or even interested in one. It made her feel…virginal. 

She stepped away from the door as she says, “Well— thank you. I’m grabbing ranch! That’s the only way you eat pizza!”

She turns something on the tv for background noise as they become comfortable on the sofa, Stoney silently eating a slice of pizza as she notices how small he makes her couch look from him sitting on it. As she does that, a call goes off on her phone, seeing as it’s her ex-husbands contact. She ignores it, placing her phone back on her coffee table, sighing as she looks back to the tv.

He sees her face, raising his eyebrow as if he already knows who called. She rolls her eyes, “Guess he must’ve felt shitty after telling me I was being dramatic—granted, I was— but I’d rather you call me dramatic than your daughter.”

"Dramatic or not, you shouldn't have to deal with his bullshit," he says, his tone serious.

“It’s nothing new,” she shrugs, “It’s one of the more important reasons why we aren’t together. He told me I was dramatic about everything. Including when he told me to drop my business in order to focus on my pregnancy.” 

She doesn’t know why she goes as far as to say that, shaking her head as she apologizes again, “Sorry.”

He frowns, “He didn’t want you to have your business ‘cause you were pregnant? That’s stupid as fuck.”

She exhales, nodding her head as she continues, “Yeah, um—we got together when I was about twenty. I got pregnant with Sai when I was twenty-two, and we decided it’d just be easier to get married. But marriage…it makes you truly learn a person for who they really are. He wanted me to be this—traditional house wife. Cook, clean, shut up, give pussy on command—have all his babies and take care of them while he worked. I didn’t want that, I wanted to make something of myself, I had a life before him…or Sai. She’s my world, but that wasn’t gonna stop me from accomplishing my goals. I love my art. My little dumb ceramics, they make people happy. I just wanted to do that and have someone’s support…especially from the man that was supposed to be my protector.”

"That's bullshit," he says eventually, his voice low. "You shouldn’t have had to give up your art and passion to fit into some dumbass idea of what a wife should be."

She shrugs, “That’s what he wanted. Five years and I truly feel like that man knew nothing about me. It feels like I’ve wasted so much time. The only thing I don’t regret is Sai. She’s my everything,” she honestly admits, “And here I am now, I’ll be thirty in a couple of years, already a divorcè, and not as attractive as I use to be,” she chuckles, “I feel stupid.”

He frowns, “‘The fuck are you talking about? You don’t think you’re attractive?” 

She goes quiet. Her eyes come up to his, “I don’t mean to get all self-deprecating, I’m just…being honest.”

Toji shakes his head, his eyes still fixed on hers. "Being honest is fine, but saying some shit like that was stupid. You’re sexy as fuck, Stoney.“

His tone is firm, but there's a hint of something else there too—a note of sincerity that surprises her.

She places her legs under herself, a warmth coming to her face as she laughs weakly, “You’re just being nice cause I’m giving you my sob story.”

Toji scoffs, shaking his head as he looks at her. "I’m not the type of guy to say shit just to be nice."

He meets her gaze, unflinching and unashamed, as if daring her to question his words.

She presses her lips in a thin line, taking in his words. All of the insecurities she felt was caused by a man that didn’t love her the way she deserved to be loved—maybe she was just now realizing that. 

She gives him another weak smile as she softly says, “…Thank you.” 

In that moment, Toji stood up, remembering something. In the midst of chaos with the snake, he’d forgotten why it had also taken him so long to get here.

 Stoney asks, “You okay?” As he raises himself from the sofa. 

She watches as he nods before he says, “I forgot to grab some shit from my car,” before making his way outside hastily. 

Stoney sits up, a look of concern on her face. Did she say the wrong thing ? Was he leaving? Did she scare him off? 

“…Toji?” 

Another couple of minutes had gone by. Why was her heart beating so fast? 

But when he entered back into the house, her face and heart dropped. In his hand was what looked to be a vase full of salmon pink orchids, her ears ringing at the sight. She didn’t know that he’d heard the conversation between her and her ex-husband, practically begging him to get the one thing her daughter asked him for.

He approaches her, stopping in front of the couch and places the vase on the coffee table. The flowers look vibrant and beautiful, standing out against the dark counter.

He scratched the back of his neck as he awkwardly chuckled, "I uh…just thought you could use these."

The look on her face is unreadable. She wasn’t sure how to feel, her trust issues in fear of being hurt by anyone ever again. She didn’t know his intentions, but this didn’t feel bad at all. She takes the flowers, an almost sad smile coming to her face, her sensitivity giving her the urge to cry once more. 

She says softly, “…Thank you.”

Toji can see the vulnerability in her expression, the way her trust issues make her hesitate to accept his gift. He understands it—he has his own set of trust issues after all.

He doesn’t try to decipher what she’s feeling, instead, he just watches her take the flowers from him. He sees the sadness in her smile, and he feels a strange urge to wrap her in his arms and protect her.

"It’s no big deal," he says quietly. "Thought you could use some pretty flowers."

There it is, the urge to actually cry. All of her feelings and emotions, she’d been holding in, allowing people to step all over her, keeping quiet. They wanted to break in that second. She also had the urge to kiss him. To do more with him, but she didn’t know if he wanted to same. 

She quickly stands from the sofa as she rubs her eyes, laughing softly and turning her face away from him as she asks, “Um—I’m assuming you need to shower?” 

She could feel his eyes on her. It was worry, concern, but it was also…something else. She hadn’t had a man look at her like this in years, the urge to grab her and have his way with her. It intimidated her.

Toji watches as she stands up abruptly, her laughter coming out slightly forced. He can see the emotions in her eyes, the way her body language betrays her, and he can't help but feel a pang of empathy for her.

He watches her turn away from him, her question lingering in the air. He knows what she's asking, what she's hinting at. He can feel her tension, her hesitance. 

"Yeah," he responds, his voice low. "I could use a shower."

“You can use my bathroom, it has a standup shower. I made it all pretty with plants around the shelves within it, the water comes down from the ceiling, but no to a point where you drown—shit, am I rambling? Uh—okay. Let me just get you some towels.” 

She makes her way down the hallway to her room, feeling him following behind her. It was like a tug of her body,  a sudden pull she had for him. She wasn’t sure where it’d come from—her body felt hot. Maybe it was the wine. 

She sees him sit along the bed as she grabs a towel for him within the closet, calling to him, “Uh—any specific color of towel? I don’t know why I have so many…”

She knows she’s asking questions to distract herself from the moment, but why does she feel so shy?

Toji sits on the bed, watching as she rummages through her closet for a towel. He can sense her nervousness, the way she keeps talking to fill the silence. He suppresses a grin, finding it oddly adorable that she’s asking something so trivial. 

He responds casually, “No preference, any color is fine.”

“I feel like you’re a gray kinda guy,” she says, and she halts herself, hoping that it wasn’t any indication of that damn painting she made. 

She brushes it off, coming back out of the closet as she says, “Well, I got you a body towel and then a bathing towel. Hope you don’t mind smelling like vanilla and coffee, that’s the soaps I have. You’ll smell good though,” she rambles, placing the towels in front of his hands.

As she brings out the towels, he takes them from her, feeling the soft fabric against his fingers. He can smell the scent of vanilla and coffee wafting from her body suddenly, like a drug had induced his system out of nowhere. 

"Thanks.”

She stands with her hands pressed together, his eyes now boring into hers. Those damn gray eyes seep into her soul, scanning her every move. 

 She then pulls back from him, “Well—there you go. If you need help with the shower handles just—let me know.” 

It’s as if time was passing by slowly. His eyes were melting into her brain, disintegrating her body with just one look. 

He extends up to his full height, her head tilting once again to look at him, so much that it makes her step back. He walked around her, pulling his eyes forward as he stalked towards the bathroom. 

In one swift sound against her ear, he asks, “You’ coming?” 

She blinks. Maybe she hadn’t heard him correctly. She turns around as he continues walking with no look behind him, as if he wasn’t necessarily asking—He was telling her. 

“Huh?” 

"I said, are you coming?" he repeats, his voice low and sultry. Again, it’s not a question. It’s more like a command, a demand. His eyes lock into hers, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

The shock is evident on her face, her mind racing to catch up to what he’s just asked. Toji stands at the threshold of the bathroom, watching her processing his question. His eyes roam over her figure, taking in the way her body responds to his words. He can sense her hesitation, but he can also see the desire in her eyes.

"You heard me the first time.”

“You want me to… shower…with you?” She questions, almost confused, as if she needed to hear it again. 

Toji doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at her with a neutral expression. It’s like he’s studying her, trying to deduce her thoughts and reactions. 

When he speaks, his voice is low and almost mocking. “To shower with me,” he repeats, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

It was like a shift in his entire demeanor. Her eyes follow him as he fully walks into the bathroom, at the same time commanding, “Hurry up,” back muscles flexing as he removes his shirt, her eyes scanning the amount of ink plastered along his back before he disappears behind the door. 

Her feet wouldn’t push herself into walking. But as her mouth fell agape at the thought of showering with him, it pushed her to follow in after him. The lights were dim within her bathroom, plants all around her sink and side of the shower wall. It was big enough to fit her, but she wasn’t sure if it’d fit the both of them. Maybe that was the point. 

His body is turned the opposite way of her as he undresses, Stoney watching in almost awe, his body sculpted in a way that was terrifying. He doesn’t bother to turn around as he continues to undress, but he can hear the slight hitch in her breath as he reveals more and more of his bare skin.

Without thinking too much, she begins removing the shirt she wears and the underwear beneath them, throwing it to the side, hair now falling around her face and body. 

She watches as he steps into the shower, a broad frame going under the hot water that scorches his skin. He glares over to her, turning slightly to the side so that she catches a glimpse between his legs. It’s veiny, sinking down as it can’t hold its own weight, a dark pink flushed along the tip. His tatted arm takes the hand towel as he rubs it along himself, cleaning the dirt from earlier within the day. The sight nearly makes her faint. 

She feels like she does all of this with her eyes closed. She opens the door, Toji taking a step back as he wants her in front of him. The water drenches her hair, making the midnight black even darker as it flows down her waist. 

She pushes it out of her face, closing her eyes as she takes a deep breath, feeling him behind her. As she inhales, his hand lightly comes along the side of her hip, pulling her back towards him as his neck hangs down to reach her, brushing his mouth along her neck. 

"What are you doing?" Stoney whispers, her voice barely audible above the sound of the running water. Despite her words, she makes no move to pull away from him, instead leaning back into his touch.

Toji's lips curve into a smirk against her neck. "Isn't it obvious?" he murmurs, his hand sliding from her hip to rest possessively on her stomach. "I'm enjoying the view."

Stoney shivers as his lips trail along her neck, her pulse jumping beneath his touch. She can feel every hard inch of him pressing against her back, igniting a fire low in her belly. "But... we shouldn't..." she protests weakly, even as her body betrays her, arching into him.

"Why not?" Toji chuckles, nipping at her earlobe.

“It’s just…been a while …” she admits softly, jumping lightly again as his fingers slowly trickle down to her thigh. Her head falls up as she leans against him, beginning to breathe in a more shallow manner.

"A while since what? Since someone touched you like this?" 

Toji's voice is a low rumble in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. His hand slides further down her thigh, teasingly close to where she needs him most.

Stoney bites her lip, nodding jerkily. It has been a long time since she's felt desired, wanted. And the way Toji is touching her, like he wants to devour her whole... It's intoxicating.

“I…haven’t even touched myself,” she embarrassingly reveals.

If only she were lying. She hadn’t relieved her own stress nor had someone do it for her in months, she felt entirely backed up. She could all tell in the way his fingers trailed closer within her inner thigh, his free hand locking around her throat, causing her chest to heave up and down—he’s barely done anything to her.

Toji's grip on her throat tightens ever so slightly, a silent reminder of his dominance. His other hand inches higher on her thigh until his fingertips brush against the damp heat of her core.

Stoney gasps, her knees buckling as a jolt of pleasure shoots through her. "Oh god," she whimpers, her hips instinctively rolling back against him. She can feel his hardness pressing insistently against her ass, making her ache to be filled.

Toji's lips find the shell of her ear once more, his voice a husky whisper. "Tell me how bad you need it, Stoney."

“I need it—so bad,” she tells him softly, bringing her own fingers to where his hand was between her legs. The moment she does this, he catches her hand within his, pressing it under his own as he guides her fingers to the sensitive bud of her clit, gently brushing over it teasingly. Her hips arch towards him as she digs her teeth into her lip, desperately hiding another whimper.

With her hand trapped under his, Toji applies gentle pressure, circling her clit with deliberate slowness. "That's it, touch yourself for me," he encourages, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.

Stoney's breathing grows ragged as she starts rubbing herself in earnest, her hips grinding against his palm. "Please, Toji," she begs, her voice trembling with need. 

“‘Fuck are you saying please for? Don’t beg me, show me what you want.”

His voice makes a deep whimper release from her as he guides her fingers to rub her clit with more pressure, her hips beginning to tremble as both her fingers and his rub in circles, making her arousal grow within her core.

"There's my good girl…" Toji praises, his hot breath fanning over her neck as he watches her work herself closer to the edge. 

Her body twitches each time she hits a certain pressure point on her clit, stopping herself from that release when it feels too much. His other hand is still along her throat as he tells against her ear, “Stop all that moving and shit. Let it feel good.”

Stoney's moans fill the steamy bathroom, echoing off the tiles. She's lost in a haze of pleasure, completely under Toji's control.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head when she feels his fingers drop lower, two finger sliding against her core before slowly sinking into her as he talks to her, “Need your pussy gripping my fingers,” her shallow breath making a soft cry at that, hips trembling wildly in reaction as he tsks against her ear, shaking his head as he demands, “Keep your fingers on your clit. I didn’t tell you to stop.” 

“T—Toji…”

 She whines, trying to rub her clit, unable to focus as his fingers sink in and out of her, his lips along her throat all too much. His voice against her ear as she shakes her head, teeth digging back into her lip.

"Shh, relax," Toji coos, his fingers curling inside her as he strokes her inner walls. "Let me take care of you."

She’d never felt this pleasurable in a while, only able to react in spasms. He nips at her earlobe, soothing the sting with his tongue before whispering, "You're so tight, baby. I love feeling you clench around my fingers." His thumb presses against her clit, applying firm pressure in sync with the thrusts of his digits.

Toji brings his face around, capturing her mouth in a deep, claiming kiss. His tongue delves past her lips, tangling with hers as he explores the wet heat of her mouth. He breaks the kiss only to trail open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, leaving a path of fire in his wake.

"You look so fuckin’ good.”

Her four fingers now desperately rub her clit, Toji slowing his own movements as he just…watches her. Her chest heaves up and down as she pants, a pout nearly along her face as she cries softly to herself, “I—I’m so close…”

Toji smirks, his gaze fixed on her desperate fingers working her clit. "That's it, baby. Get yourself there."

He resumes his slow, deliberate thrusts, curling his fingers to hit that sensitive spot inside her. His thumb applies steady pressure to her clit, rubbing in small circles.

"Come on, let go," he urges, his voice a low rumble. "I want to feel you fall apart."

Stoney’s walls start to flutter around his fingers, signaling her impending climax. The hand against her throat comes up lightly as he grips her face, giving her a light tap to catch her attention. 

Toji leans in, his breath washing over her ear as he whispers, "Quit all that fuckin’ whining, make yourself cum.”

Stoney’s eyes squeeze together as she leans her head back against him, his free fingers finding a way into her mouth as he shoves them against her tongue. She can feel her abdomen tightening as she helplessly whines in response.

She tries to hide the soft drag of, “Fuckk,” beneath her mouth, her exhale causing her release. Her body goes into shock as she pushes out her arousal in a way she didn’t expect, squirting along his fingers.

Toji groans as he feels her squirt around his fingers, her warm essence coating his hand. "Fuck— yeah, that's it," he growls, continuing to pump his fingers through her pulsing walls.

He grabs her throat once again to hold her in place. Taking her hand that was along her clit, he slides it against her drenched core before he brings them up to his own mouth, sucking her arousal off of her fingers. 

Stoney slumps against him, boneless and spent as he praises, "You did so fuckin’ good, baby. Pussy tastes like I need to eat it.”

Trying to regain her composure from her orgasm, she shakes her head with her eyes closed as she whimpers, “I can’t wait…I—want you to fuck me, please.”

Asking nicely didn’t always get you what you wanted.  He turns her around to face him, pressing her against the wall as he lifts her legs to where her knees are along the shower's marble. He’s already kissing along her neck, attaching his lips down to her nipples as he wraps his mouth along them, roughly circling his head as he sucks the skin within his mouth.

He continues to suck on her nipples, biting and nipping at the sensitive buds until they're hard and throbbing. Releasing one from his mouth, he trails kisses down her stomach, dipping his tongue into her belly button before making his way lower.

"To beg for my dick... You must really want it," he murmurs against her skin, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. He spreads her thighs wider, exposing her glistening pussy to the cool air of the shower.

Leaning in, he drags his tongue up her slit, lapping at her juices before focusing on her clit. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive nub, flicking it rapidly as he hears her moan above him. 

"I don’t give a fuck about what you want. Gonna make you squirt on my face.”

She nearly rolls her eyes, gripping for his hair as she desperately moans, back arching against the wall as she feels almost helpless.

Toji growls lowly, his grip tightening on her hips as he devours her with renewed hunger. He buries his face between her thighs, his tongue plunging deep inside her as he fucks her with it. The lewd sounds of his eating fill the shower, mixing with her desperate moans.

"Mmmph... you taste like fuckin’ heaven, baby" he mumbles against her flesh, his breath causing her to tremble. He doubles his efforts, sucking her clit as he then dips his tongue back inside of her. 

He curls his tongue just right, rubbing that spot inside her that makes her see stars. "C’mon, c’mon,” he begs her, “C’mon, baby. Soak my fuckin’ face."

She grips his hair tightly as she brokenly moans, “Baby—oh fuck. Agh, fuck. I’m gonna—“ she gasps, unable to use her words as she feels tears nearly within her eyes, “Gonna squirt baby,” she gasps, “I—I’m gonna cum again.”

Toji's eyes flash up to meet hers, seeing the desperation and impending climax written all over her face. He smirks, knowing he's the cause of her unraveling.

 "That's it, baby. Cum on my tongue."

He doubles his efforts again, slurping and sucking at her clit as he thrusts his tongue deeper inside her. The vibrations from his groan against her sends her hurtling over the edge. Her body seizes, back arching as a torrent of liquid gushes from her core, drenching Toji's face and mouth.

He laps it all up greedily, drinking down her essence as he continues to eat through her orgasm. When she finally starts to come down, he pulls back, licking his lips with a satisfied grin. "Fuck—yeah, momma. That was good. So fuckin’ good.”

Her eyes are faltering closed as she’s still softly moaning as he comes up, putting her legs over his shoulders as she’s still slightly leaned against the wall. 

She puts her arm around the back of his neck as he lightly pressed his lips to hers, breathing along her mouth as he tells her, “I’m gonna put it in, that’s what you want, yeah? Tell me.” 

She states quietly against his mouth, “Put it in…slowly, please.”

Toji nods. He positions himself at her entrance, the thick head of his dick pressing against her slick folds. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushes inside her, inch by delicious inch.

Her mouth lightly parts open, silence going between them now. She nearly pulls back from his lips as her eyes reflexively roll to the back of her head. 

She mouths so quietly, “Oh..my god,” unable to focus as he talks to her softly, “Slow like that, baby? Imma’ go deeper.” 

Stoney’s walls stretch to accommodate his size, a mix of pleasure and slight discomfort flashing across her features. Toji pauses when he's halfway in, giving her time to adjust. He leans in to capture her lips in a deep, sensual kiss, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

Breaking the kiss, he gazes into her eyes, searching for any sign of distress. She’s spent, head spinning as she deeply whimpers. He resumes his gentle thrust, pushing the rest of the way into her warmth until he's fully sheathed. He stays still for a moment, savoring the incredible feel of being buried inside her.

She tries to hold it in, but the long moan that comes from the depths of her soul releases against his mouth in a way that feels embarrassing. She grabs his hair, her eyes fully rolled to the back of her head as Toji grunts, “Damn.”

Toji lets out a low groan as he starts to rock his hips slowly, grinding deep into her tight heat. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure through his body, and he can tell from her reactions that she's feeling it too.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he growls against her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. "Your pussy is gripping my dick like she needed this shit."

He picks up the pace gradually, sliding in and out of her with increasing intensity. The sounds of their flesh slapping together fill the steamy air, mingling with their heavy breaths and soft moans.

Toji grabs onto her thighs, spreading her wider as he pounds a little harder. He can feel her nails digging into his shoulders, urging him on. Yet at the same time, she’s almost pulling her hips back, nearly blacking out from how big he is. 

He shakes his head, “Don’t do that. Take this shit,” he grunts, Stoney whining in response, wrapping her arms around his neck as she sucks his lips into her mouth, attempting to relax.

She leans her head against his shoulder as she digs her teeth into it, being stretched in an almost delicious pain. Her moans drop out her mouth before she even gives them permission. 

Toji groans deeply as he feels her teeth sinking into his shoulder, the sharp sting only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through his veins. He loves the way she clings to him, desperate and needy.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, his voice a low rumble. "Take every fucking inch." He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust that makes her cry out, burying himself to the hilt inside her.

Toji captures her lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing her moans greedily. His tongue delves into her mouth, tangling with hers in a sensual dance. 

“He ever fuck you like this?”

She blinks, knowing he’s referring to her ex-husband. The thought almost makes her annoyed, an arrogant side to him that she hadn’t felt before. The question burned an arousal to her at the same time.

 She whispers, “Toji, stop it.” 

He then pulls her forward as he takes her weight off of the wall, making sure he has a good standing position against the tile floor before he properly fixes her legs over his shoulders, holding her by her lower back. 

He's suddenly lifting her up, dropping her down onto his dick in a way that makes Stoney gasp, the sound of her core clapping against his abdomen, she’s trembling out a deep moan, her eyes faltering down as she watches him do this.

Toji smirks at her reaction, pleased that she's clearly affected by his dominant display. He holds her steady as he pounds into her, each thrust sending her body jolting against his.

"Bet he can’t have you cumming all on his dick like mine, can he? Look at me.” 

He grips her tightly, using the leverage to drill deeper, faster. The sound of their flesh slapping together fills the steamy air, mingling with Stoney’s wanton moans.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head again as she tries to watch him, sheepishly whimpering out to him, “Ughhh, yeah. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckk.”

Toji leans in, his breath fanning across her neck as he nips and sucks at her sensitive skin as he talks, “See that? Thats how he should’ve been fuckin’ you. Making you take—Every. Fuckin’. Inch,” through each deep thrust he gives her, seeing the pleasurable tears that collect in her eyes, seeing as she throws her hand over her mouth to stop the embarrassing moans that plummet from her mouth.

"This pussy is mine now, huh?”

Her nails dig into his upper back, back of her thighs wet from her own arousal, latching onto his abdomen each time their skin harshly makes contact, bouncing her against him. 

Her eyes are dazed. She feels like she’s losing her mind as she talks back to him, “Yeahhh, baby. Fuckin’ yours,” she whimpers.

“Yeah?”

“Yeahhhh.”

“All mine?”

“Promise.”

“You sure?”

“Fuckin’ promise, baby. You’re fuckin’ me so goood,” she gasps deeply, his dark chuckle echoing in her mind as their skin claps together, Stoney squealing each time he bottoms out. 

Her nails dig into his shoulders as she tries to hold on, her body trembling violently, “Oh my god, oh god, I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." she sobs, her voice rising in pitch.

"Fuck, this pussy is mine now. Gripping me like this. Milk my shit dry," he commands, grinding against her as he chases his own release.

He slams into her hard, making her moan loudly. His balls slap against her ass with each thrust, the sound echoing through the room. He leans down to capture her lips in a rough kiss, his tongue invading her mouth as he fucks her senseless.

"You're so fuckin’ tight. Like you were made for me.”

Stoney breaks the kiss, panting heavily as she looks up at him with glazed eyes as she begs, “Cum in me. Cum in me, babyy.” 

Toji raises his eyebrows as he smirks, pleased by her desperation. He picks up the pace, fucking her with brutal intensity. "My dick has you talking crazy.”

She shakes her head, “Please,” she whimpers, “Don’t leave me, cum in me.”

“Not gonna’ fuckin leave you, pretty.”

Her orgasm feels close, her walls tightening at his words, almost feeling more meaningful than the moment. Pleasurable tears come to her eyes as her mouth drops open, the tears dropping as she cries softly, “Need you, I need you…”

He kisses away her tears, holding her chin gently as he stares into her eyes. He can feel her pussy fluttering around his cock, squeezing him tightly. 

"Not letting you go," he whispers, his voice low and intense. He pushes into her harder, faster, chasing their release. 

With a few more powerful thrusts, he buries himself deep inside her and stills, releasing directly inside her. He groans deeply, holding her close as he fills her up completely.

“Gonna cum, baby?” He asks, knowing the answer, just wanting to hear her whine, “Y—Yeah baby, I’m cumming…”

She gasps in a way she hadn��t before, as if she were breathing her last bit of air. She continues talking, “I’m…cumming. I’m cumming.”

Her moans become increasingly louder, causing Toji to grunt at the sounds, slowing his moments as they become more sloppy. He grunts as it turns into an equally low moan with her, both of them feeling their release soon.

Stoney’s climax hits, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around his thick shaft. The scream that comes from her mouth trembles along her lips, as if she didn’t expect it from herself. Toji lets out a guttural growl, his hips jerking erratically as he releases inside her. He holds her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he rides out the waves of pleasure.

After a long moment, he lifts his head, gazing down at her with a mix of satisfaction and something deeper. 

“You okay?"

His voice is husky, still affected by their intense coupling. He rocks into her gently, prolonging their shared pleasure until they're both spent and satisfied. Only then does he pull out carefully, admiring how his cum drips out of her well-fucked core. He strokes her hair gently, his other hand resting possessively on her hip. Despite the post-orgasmic haze, there's a new awareness between them, a connection forged in the heat of passion.

"Mhm." 

She pants softly as she tries to regain control over her breathing. Her body still tingles with aftershocks, her thighs quivering slightly from the intensity of their lovemaking. 

She looks up at him, her caramel skin glowing in the dim light of the bathroom. There's a vulnerability in her eyes, a trust that she hasn't shown anyone before. It's as if she's opened herself up to him completely, and the realization sends a thrill through her chest. With that, she pulled him back into a kiss. This man was either gonna be the best thing that happened to her, or the death of her. Either way—fuck it.

      🧚°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧚°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧚

THE SUN BLARING INTO THE HOUSE WAS WOKE HIM UP.  Toji slowly opens his eyes, the bright morning sunlight streaming through the room hitting his face. He turns his head to the side and sees her next to him, her body bare and exposed, her hair covering her face.

He watches her sleeping, feeling a mixture of emotions wash over him. He feels a strange sense of peace, a comfort in having her so close to him. He reaches out a hand, gently pushing her hair away from her face so he can get a better look at her.

She stirs, turning her head the opposite of the pillow. She lets out a soft breath, “Need to get Sai up…for school.”

He smiles slightly, amused by her half-asleep state as he says, “It's still early," his voice raspy with the remnants of sleep, "Sai can sleep a little longer."

“Mmmm, can’t. Nathan’s stupid ass is picking her up. So sleepy…” she pouts, digging herself deeper into the pillow.

“I fucked you good, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Toji lets out a low chuckle, amused by her sleepy grumbling. He moves a bit closer to her, his body still warm from the night before.

 "Why don't you go back to sleep then? I’ll handle Nathan."

She turns her head, peeking an eye open at that. She hesitates, “…You sure? You won’t punch him?” 

 "Can't promise I won't want to," he replies, his voice edged with annoyance, “But I'll try to play nice for your sake."

“‘Don’t have money to bail you out…” 

This makes him chuckle. Toji stands from the bed as he gives a kiss to her forehead, Stoney grunting as he gives a harsh smack to her ass. 

An hour passes, Toji now sat along the porch as he smoked a cigarette, manspread along the chair as he wore only his cargos, scarred lip twisting as he re-lit the end of the object. Sai slept quietly against the sofa, packed lunch and backpack along the side of her, still in her pajamas as Stoney told him she’d be getting dressed at Nathan’s place. The birds chirped in the early morning, a stoic look among Toji’s face as he continued to smoke with the front door open. He waited.

He glances occasionally inside to check on Sai, making sure she's still sleeping peacefully. He takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing out the smoke in a steady stream.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a car pulls up in the driveway, and Toji recognizes it as Nathan's. He lets out a rough grunt, his muscles tensing as he waits for the other man to approach the house.

As Nathan steps from the car, Toji notices that he holds a bouquet of droopy and brown tipped flowers—pink orchids. Or at least, what would’ve been pink orchids.  When Nathan noticed Toji sitting along the porch, the most confused face came to his expression, only remembering him to be his ex-wife’s moving man.

Toji notices the mixture of confusion and annoyance on Nathan's face, and he can't help but snort in disdain. 

“Where’s Stoney?” Nathan glares, holding the death-written flowers, eyeing Toji’s half-dressed physique.

 Toji knew she was still sleeping peacefully, trying to be of help to her. His mind reflects to Stoney’s naked body passed out in the bed from their intensity within the shower. He wasn’t a dick, but maybe he wanted to be in the moment.

He lets out a sarcastic chuckle, his eyes looking Nathan up and down, "She's still sleeping," he replies, his tone casual and nonchalant. 

He leans back in his chair, the smoke from his cigarette filling the air as he takes a drag, his gaze never leaving him. He can see the irritation in the other man's eyes, and Toji revels in it.

“Well can you wake her up and tell her she should’ve been the one dropping her daughter off at the front door? I need to bring Sai back to my place before dropping her off to school,” he snarled.

"She’s good. She’s asleep for a reason," he replies gruffly. 

He takes another drag of his cigarette, blowing a stream of smoke in Nathan's direction which makes him cringe back. Toji then walks into the living room, taking Sai in his arms which causes her to stir awake. 

She kneels into him as she blinks, “Hi, Mr. Snake Man.”

Nathan watches with disbelief as Toji walks out with Sai in his arms, the girl blinking her doe eyes at the man as he responds, “Hey, kid," his voice gruff, a small smile forming at her sleepy greeting. 

He moves onto the porch, still holding Sai, as Nathan stands in the driveway with the dead flowers and a frustrated expression.

That’s when Nathan also notices the already blooming pink orchids on the porch. Toji leans towards him with a raised eyebrow as he passes Sai off to him, Sai then saying, “Bye Snake Man, take care of mommy!”

“Bye, little one. I will,” he chuckles, waving at her in the usual manner she did to him.

In all of that happening, Nathan's eyes widen as they catch a glimpse of the bedroom. His view was clear enough to see Stoney stirring in bed. Her naked body sprawls along the sheets, groaning as she pulls the comforter over her head to block the sunlight. 

He looks back at Toji, his expression of astonishment and anger. Toji just smirks back at him, enjoying the other man's reaction, leaving him with one last hanging sentence. 

"Yeah, she’s not getting up anytime soon.”

With that, the door slams in his face. 

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Bumping Beach Bikini - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw / Wife!Reader

Word Count: 0.8k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Pregnancy; References to Sex/Suggestive Jokes; Flirting; Use of Second Person POV “You,” No Physical Description of Reader (Minus Pregnancy), No Y/N

Summary: Rooster admires the view of his pregnant wife on the beach.

Master List

Bradley had a mental list of the best outfits that he had ever seen you in. There wasn’t a set ranking, just general levels of appreciation.

There was a step above your normal beauty and allure, which mostly included random casual outfits that for whatever reason just got him going. Like the yellow sundress that you wore when it was exceptionally hot out that was super easy to slide his hands under. Or those jean shorts that he loved to slip his hand into the back pocket and give your ass an appreciative squeeze. Or anything of his that you chose to wear.

And the step above those were your slightly dressier outfits that got him even more excited. The backless black dress that you wore out in Vegas when the two of you went out with the Dagger Squad. Or the blue floor length dress that you wore to Maverick and Penny’s wedding that looked like it was literally sculpted for you and your figure. Though he did rip the zipper on that one.

Then there were the more special outfits. Your wedding dress mostly, since he literally burst out into tears the second that he saw you step out in it. The photo of you that he kept in his cockpit was from your wedding day with your veil spread out around you, giving you a completely angelic appearance. And, well, Rooster was also very fond of the matching white lingerie set that you wore underneath it that night too. He did rip that one too though.

And at the very top of the pyramid of his favorite outfits was, of course, your birthday suit. Nothing would ever top that one.

But seeing you in a maternity bikini with one of his Hawaiian shirts wrapped around your shoulders and your baby bump sticking out from between the folds of his shirt—now that was a sight that he ingrained into his mind for the rest of his life. That one really challenged your birthday suit in his mind.

“What?” you laughed, shooting your husband a look as you applied more sunscreen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re glowing,” Bradley praised, still taking in your beauty.

“With sweat,” you giggled, rubbing in another layer of sunscreen. “It’s only spring and I swear I’m melting already.” You set down the tube of sunscreen and shot your husband a playful look. “You just had to make sure that I was heavily pregnant during the hottest months of the year in Southern California, didn’t you, Bradshaw?”

“Maybe you should have done the math before you begged me to get you pregnant,” Bradley replied, a bit smugly.

“I don’t beg,” you scoffed, shooting him a look. “And besides you offered about fifty times before I let you. If anyone was begging, it was you, Bradley.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Rooster mused, smiling over at you.

There was one rule to surviving with a heavily pregnant wife—it was to let you win. On just about everything. Anything health or safety wise, he would argue back, but Rooster took a rain check on all of the little things. And frankly he got more satisfaction out of seeing you happy than being right.

“Do you have enough water?” Rooster asked, sitting up some more.

You reached over and lifted your giant water bottle into the air. Taking a long sip from it just to prove your point to your husband, you set your water bottle back down on the sand.

“I’m fine. Just need some time to relax,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “Before it all really sets in.”

Reaching down to pick up your ankle, Rooster started to massage your foot, earning a sigh of relief from your lips. Practically melting into your chair, you turned to your husband with a small, thankful smile as you curled your toes a bit.

“I could get used to this.”

“I’m sure you could,” Rooster chuckled, rubbing the back of your calf.

“There’s only one thing that would make this better.”

“What?”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Mrs. Bradshaw,” Rooster jokingly admonished, causing you to smile wider. “Be careful suggesting that. I knocked up the last woman who asked me to take my shirt off in that tone.”

“I’ll take the risk,” you replied with a smile, rubbing your bump slowly.

“So long as you understand the risk,” Rooster returned with a wink.

“Jesus Christ, the rest of us are trying to eat here,” Phoenix cut in, sounding annoyed.

You and Rooster turned to the other Daggers, Maverick, and Penny, who was hiding an amused smile behind her hand. Maverick turned to Penny with a similar expression, shaking his head. But most of the other Daggers, those who were single anyways, shot both you and Rooster somewhat disgusted looks.

“Sorry,” you called sheepishly, waving to them.

“I’m not,” Rooster replied, reaching up to take his shirt off.

[vaokses]

How long this love can hold its breath

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: It has been years since your mother took you from King's Landing to join her in Dragonstone. Years since you and Aegon have seen one another. Years in which he has refused, time and time again, to marry, even as you tour Westeros meeting suitors in search of a husband of your choosing. That refusal can easily be undone with a few words: it was you she chose, Aegon.

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: Alicent's abuse of Aegon. Alcohol/drunkenness. Mentions of sex/prostitution. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Arranged marriage stuff. Angst. Hurt and kind of no comfort for now.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother's claim. She rides Vermithor. As you'll figure out thorugh this one shot, she and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King's Landing. How relevant or impactful that 'thing' was depends on who of the two you ask. I've stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King's Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry.

A/N: My first work in this fandom, so i'm a bit nervous. This is a bit of a prologue/alternate PoV for a series I have in the works, but I wanted to share it as a one shot since I think it also works as one. I hope you like this!

Title is from the quote "I've hoarded your name in my mouth for months. My throat is a beehive pitched in the river. Look! Look how long this love can hold its breath." - Sierra DeMulder

It feels as if he has just rested his head on his pillow when he hears the heavy doors being pushed open, and the familiar hurried steps of his mother as she enters his apartments. 

He isn’t sure why he bothers by now in telling the guards not to let her in, since she insists on overruling his orders whenever she wishes. 

Still half-asleep, Aegon reaches for the bedsheet covering his body, wary of any attempt she might make in her anger to pull it off him. Surprisingly, his mother stops a few steps away from the foot of the bed. 

Aegon feels her piercing gaze on him, and aware the choice is between caving and chasing after her, asking her what it is she wants; or waiting for the anger at his unwillingness to follow the unspoken command -and the thrown object, or the stinging hit, that comes after said anger-; he drags his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself further and asks,  

“What is it, mother?” 

“Where in the Father’s name were you? Three days, Aegon,” He winces at the reprimand. In his defense, he truly didn’t think they’d notice. Helaena would, perhaps, but she wouldn’t seek him out either way. “You were gone for three days.” 

“I wasn’t…far. I didn’t even leave King’s Landing.” 

She starts letting out a sigh, laced with disappointment and annoyance, but stops herself short, instead turning her back to him and pacing a few steps away. 

“I know where it is you go to…to satiate your vices, caring not for the shame it brings to your name and mine, behaving most unlike your station.” 

“Then why did you ask?” 

His mother won’t turn to look at him, her back turned to him and her hands joined in front of her. 

“Your sister was here.” 

His brow furrows in confusion. 

“My sister is always here.” 

“Rhaenyra was here, Aegon.” 

“Oh. What for?” 

Alicent turns on her side, considers him with eyes widened in afront and mouth curled in disgust. The question leaves her lips slowly, a threat and a dare all at once. 

“Are you still drunk?” 

He mulls over the question for a few moments, and realizes his thoughts are entirely too calm for him to be already sober. The numb haziness of the night before remains, a comfort. 

“I think I might be,” He admits, eyes darting to the side and lingering on the pitcher of wine on a nearby table. He wonders if it is empty. “Slightly.” 

When it seems his mother is intent on merely staring at him in disappointment, he motions for her to turn away and gets dressed. 

He can’t help but feel unseemly, standing before his mother in rumpled clothes and disheveled hair, while she stands tall with not a strand of hair out of order, not a speck of dust on her dress. Then again, even at his best he hasn’t managed not to feel small, unsuited, by comparison. 

Instead of letting those thoughts linger, aided by the comfortable haze the wine from the previous night -or nights, rather- provides him with, Aegon moves to sit on a table in one of the darker parts of the room. 

Alicent follows quietly, but she doesn’t sit. 

“I come here with news. You are to be married, n-…” 

He shakes his head with a mocking laugh, the defiance as easy as breathing, after four years of holding the same stance. He might not have a say in much, but he does in this. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Your father has approved of this union. As have I.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Then you are welcome to marry her yourselves. I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you three.” 

Sometimes, perhaps in foolish hope, in some hollow fantasy, he thinks his impertinence amuses his mother. He might imagine it, he’s quite certain he does, but sometimes he swears she furrows her lips to hide the faintest of smiles. 

But of course, she shows no give, betrays not a flicker of amusement, of softness, of anything. Try as he might to earn any of them. 

“I did not come here to entertain insolence.” 

“Why did you come here, mother?” He asks, not able to reign in the restless movements of his hands, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the table. “My stance hasn’t changed. And it won’t.” 

The restlessness building within her is betrayed in the small movements of her hands that increase in intensity the longer she looks at him. With a sudden movement, she slams a hand on the table between them and leans closer. 

“You cannot go on like this, Aegon, shrinking your duty because of the denial of a caprice of your youth.” 

“It was the one thing I asked for. I haven’t asked for anything since, nor did I ask for anything before.” 

His mother scoffs in response, looking away. 

“And that is reason enough for your wish to be granted?” She asks, derisive, almost jeering. Alicent leans back, straightens her stance again. Not too unlike Aemond adjusting his posture to strike with his sword during training, he supposes. “You have gone through your entire life doing as you please, not considering the cost to your family, to your House, to me, and you expected to be rewarded?” 

But he has considered the cost, has had no choice but to consider it, when every choice, every action, it seems almost every thought, is heavy with the impact it might have on his name, on his family. He has considered the cost, but try as he might no choice, no action, has been enough. 

“It would have…It would have changed things. If you had said yes,” He argues, an argument repeated, in his head if not aloud, a thousand times over in these passing years. And yet restlessness builds within him regardless, and he finds himself grasping at the table to keep his hands from fidgeting. “It was the smart choice. You know father would have been for it. You could have kept Vermithor on our side, and given them no choice but to play by our rules with their daughter here. We might have won this war you want so b-…” 

“All I have wanted is to make sure your lives are not forfeit when your father dies. It is not war I want.” 

“Then why did you say no?” 

She shakes her head as she looks away again. 

“The matter is settled. Long settled.” 

“Yet you never told me why.” 

He wants to hear it. More than an apology for denying him a chance at happiness, more than an admission that beyond the feelings of any involved it was the smartest choice, more than anything, he wants to hear her tell him why. 

She didn’t even hear his reasons, she didn’t even consider proposing the union to your mother, or Viserys. She dismissed him, and denied him, without even a second thought. 

He wants to know the reason why. If it was because she knew of you something he didn’t, and was certain you would have rejected him even at the cost of your home and life as you knew it, he wants to know. If it was because she believes him so monstrous that she wished to protect even the daughter of her lifelong adversary from him, he wants to know. 

If it was because in his weakness and his failings he has made himself into something even his own mother wishes to see punished, or because there was something he did -because it had to be something he did, there cannot be so many that were supposed to love him and refuse to for it not to be something he is doing wrong, something about him that is wrong- that not only managed to make his mother’s love for him vanish, but also earned him her scorn, he wants to know. He thinks knowing that to be the truth would splinter him in a way he isn’t sure he’d be able to recover from, but he is tired, and alone, and he wants to know why. 

He searches his mother’s gaze, desperate for an answer, any answer. She looks back, and yet all that is reflected back at him is contempt, disappointment, and what he fears is disgust. 

“It has been years, Aegon. You are being senselessly stubborn, holding onto this…this grudge against me.” 

He makes a face at her words, and grabs the pitcher in the table before him only to find it empty, the only wine remaining being that still in the half-filled cup. 

“It is not a grudge, I-..”  

“Weakness, then,” She sentences, and he doesn’t bother hiding the flinch at her words. His gaze lowers to the table before him. “You’re being a fool, if you think after all this t-…” 

His eyes are set on the half-full cup of wine before him, and he doesn’t dare move his gaze as he interrupts, “I am not marrying, mother.” 

She considers him in silence, and though for a moment he thinks a hit is to come -he doesn’t usually get away with interrupting her-, followed by her footsteps leaving the room, his mother takes a deep breath and insists, 

“It is not me or your father who request this of you. It is your King who commands it.” 

“The King, or his Hand?” He retorts. He grabs at the cup and downs the remaining liquid, making a face at the taste of stale wine, and presses on, “I’m guessing a Baratheon, to earn Borros’ support? Or a Tully, to secure the Riverlands?” 

For the briefest of moments, when his mother’s lips press into a thin line, hands fidgeting where they rest joined before her, he thinks he finally got the upper hand. That he proved he isn’t as blind to their plots and their increasing panic at Rhaenyra’s influence as he may appear. That he proved her wrong, that he showed he isn’t as incompetent as they’d like to think, that he… 

“A Velaryon,” Alicent admits, and any pride, any satisfaction, die out like flames in a room without air. His lips part, he knows not for what since all that leaves them is a choked breath, the beginning of a question, of a name. Aegon searches his mother’s gaze, attempts to find any truth, any certainty, but Alicent looks away. Her next words sound as if heard from underwater. “To keep you from certain execution when your sister ascends the Iron Throne.” 

“Do not toy with me, mother,” He means for it to sound like an accusation, like a demand, like anything but a plea, and yet that is what leaves his lips. Betrayed by the waver in his voice, by the iron grip on the glass, he goes on, “She’s touring the whole of fucking Westeros in search of a husband as we speak.”  

“She has made her choice, Aegon. It was you she chose,” She promises, and her voice is low and warm and almost comforting, so why does it feel wrong? Why does it make him want to crawl out of his own skin? “As for the tour, it will continue as scheduled. Rhaenyra deserted her own tour before time was due, she knows better than to repeat her mother’s mistake.” 

Breathable air is lacking by this chair, in this room, and he stands up, wincing at the too-loud sound of the chair scraping against the ground. 

He eyes a pitcher of wine in another table, and crosses the distance with quick strides, refilling his cup and draining half of it before turning to his mother again. 

“Why tell me now? I-If the tour is to continue,” If she can still change her mind, “Why tell me now?” 

“Your grandsire and I believed you might take this opportunity to amend your behaviors,” Alicent tells him, “So you might save your future wife the embarrassment, so you might protect her honor, seeing as you do not care for ours or your own.” 

She hasn’t said your name yet, he notices.  

Neither has he, but he has forgotten when it was the last time that he said it aloud. Intentionally, that is, he doesn’t count any time he let it slip past his lips when deep in his cups or buried inside some whore with the wrong shade of silver in her hair -and the wrong eyes, and the wrong voice, and the wrong smile, and the wrong touch-. 

Aegon can’t even remember when it was that he decided he wouldn’t utter your name again, all he knows is that through the years what started out of spite, as a way to deny the wound and the absence; has become something else. It has become to him something like a secret, something to be hoarded, to be kept his alone. 

Because there’s pride, and satisfaction, and something rotten but his, in having known you in ways no other did. In remembering you how he is certain -he has to be, it is of the few things he has left- no one has known you. 

And so he doesn’t speak your name. Lest in sharing any of the warmth of a bond long gone he loses it, dying embers to a strong wind; lest in admitting old truths he is left behind also by the part of you that he keeps safe, a secret only his. 

But now in his head resonate so loudly that they drown anything else -like thunder, like the beat of Vermithor’s wings taking you far up into the sky- his mother’s words.  

It was you she chose. 

Thinking of you has always meant the resurgence of the memory of the goodbye you refused to grant him, of waking to the reverberating cry of Vermithor as he took to the skies with you on his back and flew you away to Dragonstone; or the memory of your disappointment and your sorrow as he avoided your gaze and your words when you met again in Driftmark.  

Yet now the memory that comes forth in his mind is another. 

You smiled at him, daring and entirely too proud. But how could you not be, when you both knew he would oblige? How could you not be, when he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze from your lips since you had asked him for something as simple as a kiss? And your voice was softer than he’d expected -or perhaps he remembers it softer than it was, perhaps he sees something else when desire was all there was-, warmer than it had ever been, when you whispered, I want it to be you. 

And what harm can your name do that his own mind hasn’t inflicted upon him already? What ruin can the uttering of such a familiar word bring that the memories haven’t wrought already? 

So he says your name. Willingly, rationally, for the first time in years.  

He thought the foolish refusal to utter your name aloud kept you distant, kept the memory of you, the idea of you, as something far from him, gone from him. But he realizes now, with the shape of your name parting his lips and the taste of memories staining his tongue like ash; that you have been a distant memory, a distant dream, for a very long time. 

And the knowledge that you chose him, the helpless hope that blooms somewhere in his chest, they cannot do a thing against the horrifying certainty that the future he wanted, the future he mourned, is lost to him regardless of your choices now. 

What can he give you now, that that Tyrell knight the rumors say you were so enamored with cannot? How can he not fail whatever expectations you have of him, as he has failed all others? How could you want him now, as what he has made out of himself in these years you’ve spent apart? 

It was a comfort, he realizes now, thinking you lost. The comfort of knowing he couldn’t fail you, couldn’t earn your scorn when he had merely your indifference. 

A bitter, wretched little laugh leaves his lips then, and he turns his head -to hide, perhaps, the tears brimming in his eyes, the weakness his mother so loathes to see from him- and looks out the window towards the distant skies. 

Alicent doesn’t move, merely stands taller, prouder, and presses, 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Of course, this is what he fucking wanted, but nearly four years have gone by since he asked to be allowed to marry you and was refused. Even if some part of him wants it, wants you, still, it matters not. 

It is what he wanted, before. Before everything got worse, before everything got louder, harder. Before he got worse. Before you forgot about him. 

His mother approaches him then, and though he jumps when he sees her reach for him out of the corner of his eye, she grabs onto his forearm and speaks again, forceful, determined, 

“Listen to me, Aegon. Your sister has secured her hold on the Seven Kingdoms, both through the strength of her dragons and through her eldest children’s diplomacy with the noble Houses,” His mother tells him, but he cannot hear her, not over the warring thoughts of finally, finally, finally, and too late, too late, too late. “Rhaenyra has allowed for this to happen because she wishes to extend an offer of peace, and you cannot squander this opportunity.” 

He turns to her and asks, quietly, forlorning, “Why now?” 

“What?” 

“Why now?”

Why now, that everything is worse? Why now, that he has become this? 

For a moment, a flickering moment gone in the blink of an eye, he thinks he sees sadness, sympathy, in his mother’s warm gaze. For a moment, he believes she will offer words or touch in the way she hasn’t before, in comfort or in reassurance. 

But her gaze falls from his, and her grip on his arm -too tight, almost bruising, yet wanted, needed, if it is all he can get- loosens as she lets go of him. 

“The betrothal will be announced when the tour is over. The wedding in a week’s time from then.” She tells him, detached, not unlike a messenger delivering a missive. 

And with that she leaves his apartments. The door closing echoes in his mind, and he is left behind with a loneliness he doesn’t know where to put, and a hope he doesn’t know how not to fear. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!

I am endlessly fascinated by the greens and their deeply weird dynamics, and I hope I did them a modicum of justice, even when changed in this AU and despite the influence of fanon in my interpretations of them.

[lilozzzyo3569]

Mr. & Mrs. Simon Riley

Summary: Simon Riley comes home late, and is blessed with the visual of you, his wife, asleep on the couch waiting for him. Warnings: MDNI, female reader is smaller then Simon (because I am apparently obsessed with large men), I don't own this man (but I guess I wasn't meant to be happy), General fluff, Simon's POV, Reader has curves and Simon is OBSESSED with his lovely wife, slightly suggestive, You and Simon are married

Simon was supposed to be home by 10pm which you of course knew meant midnight. So here you were on your couch waiting up for him after a long day at work. You had picked up his favorite take out on your way home, cleaned the house and got a jump on the laundry before your husband came home. You were wearing your leggings, a grey camisole, and your favorite cardigan as you tried to stay up for your husband. Suffice to say all of this took it out of you, you're not sure when exactly you fell asleep but you do vaguely remember seeing the clock strike midnight.

(Simon's POV)

It was after 3am when he finally managed to get home, he saw from the outside that all the lights were still on, he was quite surprised as he assumed his precious little wife was still awake and waiting up for him. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to be home with you, his precious bird, cuddled in his arms. He unlocked the door, walked in, and started to take off his shoes as he called for you, "Lovie, ya' still up?" he asked as he turned the corner after taking his gear and moving towards the living room to see you curled up on the couch in your favorite cardigan, painting just the perfect sight to his tired eyes.

Simon smiled to himself as he stared down at you. Simon loved you, and loved when you would wait up for him to come home from his deployment. You would run to him, drape your arms around him, help him out of his gear before throwing it into the wash. Before searching him for new scars and bruises before proceeding to kiss all over his face and saying how happy you are that he is home safe. Before gently forcing him to take a shower. Which always ends with you being dragged in, as you giggle and try to escape his hungry grasp, as he paws at your now drenched clothes wanting to be close to you and not let you go. He can't help but be a bit clingy whenever he comes home from deployment. Being away from the light of his existence can be a bit difficult for him for obvious reasons. So when he comes home he wants you and only you, he wants to hold you, kiss you, sink into the warmth of your body until his brain shuts off, and al he can think of is your beautiful face.

But this, you passed out, exhausted from waiting up for him was also the picture of pleasure to him. See the thing is as Simon loves you, borderline is obsessed with you and if he had it his way he would just sit and watch you all day and all night. You however never let him just sit and stare at you, always jumping into his lap, laughing and asking "why ya starin, Karen?" and attacking him with kisses until he finally blinks. Yet here you are, a pure feast to his starving gaze, your alluring eyes closed peacefully as you breath deeply with your full lips slightly parted. Your chest raising and falling in an easy rhythm putting your breasts on full display barely being help in your tiny little camisole, your curves barely hidden under your favorite oversized cardigan, you shapely thighs on full display in your tight little leggings. He stood in front of the couch staring down at you enjoying himself as he lets his eyes roam your figure until his heart is content, and if an hour passes of just him standing over you slightly creepily watching you sleep then who would even know.

He chuckles to himself as he finally steps back and gets himself into a hot shower, enjoying the water and uninterrupted time before putting on a pair of loose sweatpants and coming back out into the living room to turn off the lights, and tv that he just realized has been on this entire time. He smiles to himself wondering how a man like him managed such a sweet, soft, gentle bird like you. He picked you up with ease as he walked you to the bedroom. Putting you into bed first before sliding behind you on the other side to drag you closer to him. Gently wrapping his arms around your frame as he pressed his face into your hair enjoying a deep inhale as he tangled his burly legs with yours. Pressing a loving peck to you neck before whispering "Goodnight dove."

(Your POV)

You're not sure how you made it to bed, but based on the annoyed grunt your husband gave you when you moved your head you could take a pretty good guess. You giggle before gently lifting his large hand and kissing his knuckles and saying "Welcome home baby," he chuckles still only half awake before kissing the top of your head and responding into your hair, "Thanks lovie," and before you can respond he pulls you impossibly closer into his firm chest and drifts back off to sleep. You try to pull away to get up and start your day "Simon baby, ya wanna maybe let go so I can get up and get a move on?" he simply shakes his head with his face still firmly pressed into your hair, "Absolutely not, you aren't leavin this bed. I have been away from you for too long. Just let me keep you a for a bit longer pet, yeah." You smile to yourself and rub your hand up and down his arms and "Okay baby, but only because I love you" he gently bumps his nose against the op of your head and chuckles "not as much as I love you dove."

Thank you for all of the support, I have randomly had this idea in my head all day so I figured I would just write it out. Hope you enjoy and thanks again!

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 016 ]

“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. angst. infidelity. manipulation. lying. mentions of kidnapping. blackmail. sex tapes.

notes. this chapter is dedicated to the lovely @shhh-anon who drew me a lovely naoya piece for some omi crumbs (but i have no self-control and wrote a whole chapter with the long awaited kiyoomi pov!) thank you again shhh anon for that scrumptious naoya art <3 also, please read carefully as there will be lore drop in this chapter!

wc. 11.3k

series masterlist 

[ SIXTEEN ] feels like we had matching wounds but mine’s still black and bruised and yours is perfectly fine now, feels like we buried alive something that never died, so God, it hurt when i found out.

Kiyoomi stood alone in the waiting room of the Yuzuru Estate, surrounded by the fragments and echoes of your past.

The walls were adorned with your childhood photos, each frame capturing the moments of innocence and joy that he now yearned to be a part of. Tracing the contours of your smile in those pictures, his fingers hovered the glass as if he touched the memories themselves. Each image had perfectly captured the bits of your soul, a glimpse into the life you had before he knew you, and he felt your presence in every corner of the room.

The scent of petrichor lingered, mingling with the faint aroma of blooming flowers from the garden outside. The Yuzuru Estate smelled just like you – of innocence, unbridled happiness, and untainted purity of heart.

He could picture it already – you as a little girl, running through these halls with unabashed laughter, your joy as light and delicate as gossamer threads dancing in the breeze.

His heart ached with the knowledge that he had missed those moments, that he had come into your life too late to share those memories. Often, he wondered... if he’d met you as a child like Tooru did Maiko, would the Queen have arranged a marriage between you two?

He figured if he did, then it was a wedding neither parties would be opposed to.

As Kiyoomi waited, the silence of the house seemed to make the voices in his louder, each one a bittersweet reminder of his unspoken affections. Your smiles, so radiant and pure, were the cynosure of his existence, yet they were never meant for him. He wished, with an incendiary intensity, that he could be the one to bring that joy to your face, to be the one you looked at with those pretty, sparkling eyes.

Instead, those eyes were filled with crystalline tears, and your smile was always pulled at the opposite direction.

Kiyoomi studied your photos as he roamed the waiting room, seeing not just the girl you were, but the woman you’d become. The depth of your soul was evident in every image, your very essence woven into the fabric of the house itself. It was as if you’d been molded by graceful hands with the utmost care. Carved to perfection, adorned with elegance, and draped with dignified regality. You would’ve made the perfect Princess if you weren’t tied to their worst Prince.

And so he’d asked himself... what if he’d been yours?

Had you been his wife, his Princess, would you have been happier? It was a silly question, that he knew. Nothing but fleeting musings. Because he knew the Crown never made anyone happy, and the Palace was not a place where childish concepts such as ‘love’ existed.

Yes, he longed to hold your hand, to feel the warmth of your touch, but he knew that such moments were only dreams. You were terribly in love with your husband despite all his wrongdoings. And as much as he hated it, Kiyoomi couldn’t bring himself to convince you otherwise. Even that felt unfair for him. He wanted to be loved because he’d been chosen as the one you loved, not simply because he was the better one. For now, he would remain your steadfast friend, your confidant, and ultimately would find solace in this unspoken connection you shared.

He’d already made a vow to himself to cherish every moment he had with you, even if it meant hiding his true feelings. Being your friend was better than being nobody at all, and he would hold onto that role with all the strength he had. Because his love, a constant and silent force, would be there for you always – even if you never knew the depth of his longing.

“Your Highness!” a feminine voice interrupted his thoughts. Kiyoomi turned away from your framed photographs, greeted by the sight of your parents descending the stairs. “What an unexpected visit. Oh, please do sit down, we’ll have some tea served shortly after.”

Kiyoomi did as he was told.

Your parents, even with their faces lined with crow’s feet and prominent smile lines, were still exactly the same as he’d met them from years ago. Kind, genuine, and compassionate – he briefly recalled how generations ago that there’d been talk spreading about how the Yuzuru Clan would’ve made great country leaders. That if ever the Suna Clan failed and continued with their frivolous endeavours and the Kingdom was plunged into poverty and hunger, your clan would be next to take over.

It had all been nothing but word of the mouth, however. The Suna Clan, if anything, was annoyingly persistent and remained in power for the next years to come. Whilst you, the Yuzuru Clan, remained perfectly content being the Kingdom’s spear.

The tea arrived not long after. The three of them settled into the plush cushions of the settee, the sounds of the teacups clinking against porcelain filling the room.

“Lady Yuzuru, Lord Yuzuru,” smiled Kiyoomi as he gestured to the room, unable to take his eyes off one certain photograph – the one of you and Rintaro, taken during the courtship phase, with his hand wrapped around your waist and you leaning into his chest. He’d placed a white gardenia at the crook of your ear, both your smiles wide and untouched by reality. With a clench of his jaw, Kiyoomi plastered a polite smile on his face and tore his gaze away from it. “You have such a lovely home.”

“Oh, you flatter us too much,” your mother waved her hand, dabbing a handkerchief at her bottom lip before intertwining her hands at her lap. “May I ask what brings you here, my Prince?”

Straight to the point, just as he’d hoped. Setting his tea down, Kiyoomi leant forward. “I’m inclined to say royal duties; Her Majesty has insisted that Her Highness make herself known in the Palace. However... I am here for more personal reasons,” he confessed, his composure finally falling as he dared sneak a glance upstairs, where he hoped your room would be. It’d been three days since you all left the beach house, three days since Rintaro returned to the palace alone.

“I’m very worried for your daughter. How is she?”

Your parents shared a look with each other before your mother sighed, the sound disappointed and crushing him by the core. “So you know about the affair as well.”

Kiyoomi kept his head down. “Yes. It is with a heart heavy with regret that I admit I kept it a secret, too.”

“Pardon me, Sir, if I may be overstepping but... why couldn’t you warn out dear girl? You’ve met her. Your mother knows us and our daughter – you know our girl a sweet, innocent one. She didn’t deserve any of this,” cut in your father, his more-than-salt and pepper hair glinting under the chandeliers. “If you knew, if any of you knew all this time, why didn’t anyone say anything against the Crown Prince’s courtship?”

“I’m sorry, my Lord. I don’t have any excuse for my behaviour,” Kiyoomi sighed, “But I am hoping that you would give me another chance to repent for what I’ve done. I can no longer stand watching the Princess suffer at the hands of my brother and my wife. And I assure you, I have nothing but pure intentions. I simply... I simply want the best for her, my Lady. That is why I am here today – to offer my sincerest apologies, and to see for myself if Her Highness is doing well.”

Lady Yuzuru stood up and threw her handkerchief on the ground. Tears brimmed her eyes.

“She isn’t. Of course she isn’t. She has been locked up in her room for days, refusing to eat, or-or to speak to us. She is heartbroken and won’t even let us comfort her,” she clutched at her chest as if it ached, and immediately, Lord Yuzuru was beside her. His arms wrapping around her shoulders for comfort. “Your sincerity is flattering, but what can you do for her? You cannot take away her pain. She is married, and divorce is not an option. Tell me, my Prince, what can you do for her?”

Kiyoomi sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He’d already braced himself for this – to have your parents’ fury be directed at him. He told himself he would take it all with stride, but even he knew his honest answer was not the most acceptable.

“I’m afraid this is a battle in which she has to learn the way out for herself. Although I give you my word, I won’t let her face any of this alone. I already promised the Princess I would be by her side at all times, and I don’t intend on backing out anytime soon.”

Your parents exchanged another glance, their brows drawn together in worry. He couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t an easy decision to make – trusting the Crown Prince only for him to break their daughter’s heart, and now having to place that trust on another Prince, the husband of their ‘son’s’ mistress, no less.

“Then we will trust you on this,” they said, and Kiyoomi raised his hands in surprise. It’s enough for him to shoot up in his seat, your mother immediately raising her hand to warn him. “Please, Sir. Don’t make us regret welcoming you into our home.”

Kiyoomi was speechless.

“Thank you, my Lord, my Lady. I promise I won’t waste this opportunity.”

Lord Yuzuru nods, albeit still hesitant. “Can we trust you to look after her for now? I’m afraid duty calls, and we’ve already missed out on a lot because we were too worried over her.”

“She is in safe hands. I promise.”

Your parents left shortly with a quick farewell. Lady Yuzuru needed to attend to the family business as it expanded every day, and Lord Yuzuru spent most of his time in the Palace – always on guard, always prepared for a war that loomed overhead as the surrounding nations turned their backs on Inarizaki. The war never happened, of course. A false sense of security still loomed over the Kingdom thanks to the Queen’s tireless efforts. Still, it was only a matter of time. With the throne losing its power and the Kingdom one scandal away from damnation, one couldn’t be too lax.

Not that any of it was Kiyoomi’s concern. He had more pressing matters in hand. Racing up the stairs, he quickly found your room after being guided by a servant, and softly rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Princess? It’s me, Kiyoomi. May I enter?” No response, not even a stirring groan or a shaky breath. Complete but utter silence. His worry deepened, and Kiyoomi dared to push the door open, his eyes adjusting to the darkness enveloping the room. “Princess?”

You are nothing but a curled-up lump in your bed, your form shivering as you were swathed in heavy blankets. And your face was pale and clammy as the dim lights danced off of your skin. Breaths shallow and labored, your eyes fluttered weakly as you stayed conscious – your head turning in his direction.

Seeing you in such a fragile state when you’d been alit with joy days ago... Kiyoomi’s heart clenched. Something dark pulled and tugged at his very soul.

In quick strides, he’d already crossed his way to your bed, the mattress dipping beneath his knee. He pulled you into his lap without another word, his hands coming to rest at your forehead as you groaned with each movement. As if scalded, he retreats his hand. “Oh, God. You’re burning up.”

Taking care of you does not come as a second thought to him. It is the first, as your safety and well-being was his concern. In the next moment, he’d gently laid you back down on your bed and darted out of the room, searching for water, medicine, and politely asking the resident cooks if he could prepare some soup for you. He didn’t doubt the cooks knew how to, yet he also couldn’t fight off this urge that he had to take care of you. Not the estate staff, not the doctors, not anyone. Quite frankly, he didn’t trust anyone anymore to lay their hands on you. It had to be him, even if it meant running back and forth to dampen towels and changing it every hour to lower your temperature.

Around the third towel, when the sun has begun to set and his phone went off with multiple ignored messages, you finally stirred awake. “Rin? Is that you?” Your voice is weak, throaty and scratched. Your eyes fluttered open as you gazed at the figure beside you, nestling into the warm palm that’s dabbing a damp towel onto your face. “I thought you would never return.”

A sharp of pang pierced his heart. It was a humbling experience – to know that even in your weakest moments, you sought out a man that wasn’t him.

“Rest, Princess,” he muttered, caressing your cheeks as you sighed into his touch – or your husband’s touch – and slowly went back to sleep. I won’t leave you.”

As you drifted back into a peaceful sleep, and your breathing finally began to even out, Kiyoomi told himself to relax.

He stayed vigilantly by your side, his eyes never leaving your pallid face. He feared that if he dared look away for even the briefest of moments, you would wilt before him, and it’d be too late for him to catch you. So he checked your temperature periodically, the gentle press of his hand on your forehead filled with a tender concern. Once reassured your fever was going down little by little, he meticulously arranged the medicine prescribed to you on the beside table – ensuring everything would be within your reach for when you wake. Not that he’d leave your side until you’d woken up. The Palace Guards would have to break down the door to your room and have a fleet of them personally drag him away from you before he even thought to go someplace else.

However, he was only human, and he’d never experienced having this level of worry and anxiety over someone’s health before.

Soon, exhaustion crept up at him, tugging at his eyelids and his muscles aching. He fought against the need to sleep, determined that he would remain awake in case you called out for him. Him, not Rintaro, because he foolishly hoped that you would realize it was never your husband who cared this much for you.

Each time his head dipped forward in weariness, Kiyoomi shook himself awake, unwilling to leave you unguarded for even a moment. Your parents had entrusted you to his care, and he wasn’t going to let them down now.

The hours passed by slowly, the quiet of the night filled with the steady rhythm of your breaths and the occasional rustle of the sheets. In those still, lonely hours, Kiyoomi watched you as he sat across the room – his cheek in his hands, his eyes half-lidded. Much like the flickering candles, his love burned brighter, interweaving with his own fatigue and heartache. His emotions stormed around his soul like a typhoon – his affection for you battling with the hatred he began harbouring towards his brother.

How could one call himself a man when he put his wife into such a weakened state? Your name and the word ‘weak’ shouldn’t even be in the same sentence. Yet Rintaro had a penchant for making the impossible possible, and he’d reduced such a great woman – a great Princess, even – into the battered, bruise-hearted, and shivering person that you were now.

Kiyoomi is nodding off moments later when he heard a slight groan. His eyes shot open, his body lurching forward as if your presence tugged on him like a rope. He’s knee-deep in your bed and cradling your head when you finally turn to him, and realization sinks in.

He waited for it – held his breath and soothed his heart for the hurt to come should disappointment ever cross your face that he hadn’t been Rintaro. It seemed, however, that the Gods decided to grace him tonight, because you never did. Instead, your face lit up, and your chapped lips tugged into a smile as best as it could. And he still found you to be the prettiest thing he’d ever laid his eyes on – even with sleep-crusted eyes and smelling of sickly sweat.

Just the sight of you, so wholly trusting and happy to see him, made him want to engulf you in his arms and never let you go.

Kiyoomi never does. He didn’t have the right, because friends didn’t go around kissing their friend’s foreheads. That wouldn’t be what companionship meant, at least not in his book. He simply holds you, and lets you crawl into his lap as he reaches for the soup he’d made prior. “You’re looking better,” he commends, placing his hand on your forehead one last time as pride fills him with each spoonful you ate. “Is the soup good?”

“Yes, thank you. It’s delicious,” you beamed at him, and placed the bowl back to your bedside table. Kiyoomi had expected you to move away and slide off his lap, yet made no complaints – because why would he? – when you remained on his lap, legs tucked beside his knees and nimble fingers toying with the strings of his shirt. “I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”

“Kanami made me learn all sorts of things. She said, uh...” shyly, Kiyoomi scratches the back of his neck and looks away. “...That women like it when a man was a great cook.”

Your giggle was instantaneous, airy. “She would be right about that,” you agreed, the smile on your face softening as you placed your palms on his chest, right above where his heart lay. He prayed desperately to the Gods you wouldn’t notice how fast his heart raced at the contact. Gazing up at him from under your lashes, you tipped your head to the side. The straps of your nightgown slipped on one shoulder at the motion, revealing smooth, bare skin and the lack of anything else underneath. “Were you... the one who nursed me back to health?”

Kiyoomi shifted you on his lap as to not let your knee accidentally graze his groin. “Yes,” he croaked out, finding it hard to speak when you were so... defenceless like this. It makes his throat dry up, and as subtly as he could, uses a finger to hook your strap back to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you pat his chest, completely unaware of your hold on him. “And I’m sorry too, that you had to see me in such a state. I swear I didn’t mean to be a burden.”

His eyes darted to your face, offended that you would even imply such. “You are never a burden.”

You smiled at him like you didn’t believe his words. It strikes the dagger of hurt an inch deeper, a pain which he told himself to not take personally. He reminds himself you’ve trusted, over and over, and have been betrayed, over and over again. It must be a reflexive response by now.

“What brings you here, Kiyoomi?” your voice fills the expanse of the room as dread paints your face. “Did something bad happen?”

Kiyoomi swallowed. He’d been so engrossed in looking after you he’d momentarily forgotten why he was here in the first place. It suddenly weighed on him now – the Queen’s wrath at Rintaro’s sudden announcement to divorce you, her orders to bring you back immediately, and the flashing of the muted calls he’d deliberately ignored.

“I believe we should talk about that somewhere else. You could use some fresh air.”

+

You and Kiyoomi wandered through the sprawling gardens of your family estate under the tender glow of the moonlight, your footsteps whispering softly against the dew-kissed grass. The night air was crisp and invigorating – which you welcomed happily, as it was a great change from the stuffiness of your bedroom.

With each step taken, Kiyoomi’s hand brushed against yours, your fingers occasionally intertwining as he offers his silent gestures of comfort. There was a palpable sense of dread now that reality demanded your full attention, an undercurrent of foreboding that neither of you dared to voice, yet it was tempered – even slightly – by the solace you found in each other’s presence.

You told him everything that transpired at the beach house – the ‘romantic’ dinner date, Rintaro’s odd behaviour of acting like Iris never existed, Iris’ sudden appeal for peace. The entire time, Kiyoomi listened without interruptions.

You moved slowly, as if savouring each moment, knowing very well the fragile peace of the evening was fleeting like everything else.

“I’m sorry,” Kiyoomi spoke after a while, his head ducked down.

“What for?” you grinned, “That my husband, who never loved me, finally decided to leave me after all?” you waved a hand in the air. “It’s nothing. It was bound to happen. If anything, I feel a little relieved, you know? It’s like... I’ve wanted to end everything all this time, but I just wasn’t brave enough to call it quits. I was afraid that if I said goodbye, then I would be admitting that he’d made a fool out of me,” you released a shuddering breath, watching as Kiyoomi lifted his gaze and his piercing eyes looked at your soul, through your soul. You found that his penetrating and intrusive gaze didn’t feel... unwelcomed. It was as if you knew that you could show him your worst and everything that made up your flaws, and he would still find a way to notice what was beautiful instead.

He looked at you the way you wished your husband did.

Just like that, Rintaro’s betrayal returned to you in full force, and your smile wavered. “But now that he’s the one who’s decided it, it’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I never knew how difficult it was – deciding when or how it had to end.”

“You’ve been brave and strong. Don’t undermine yourself.”

“Was I strong, though? I thought I’d been nothing but a fool.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes darkened with something unreadable. “You were in love. It happens to the best of us.”

You couldn’t help it – your smile was genuine, affection pouring out of your every pore. “You know, Kiyoomi, that’s one of my favourite things about you,” you softened at his taken-aback expression, mustering up the courage to close the distance as you loop your hand around his bicep, and giving it a firm squeeze. “How you always know what to say, and always at the right time. You’re charming without having to try. And when I’m with you... I feel like everything is going to be okay. Is that weird?”

With nothing but the moonlight to illuminate his face, Kiyoomi’s reddened cheeks were partially hidden. “Not at all. I’m honoured I could be a source of solace to you.”

“I hope you feel that way with me too,” you tell him, “I’ve thought about it the entire time I was here – how Rintaro sounded so determined to divorce me. When I asked him about the pregnancy, he looked... mortified, and I couldn’t fathom if it was because he never wanted me to find out. He didn’t look happy about it, but why wouldn’t he? Isn’t that what he always wanted? To have a future with the one he loves?” your brows furrowed as you said it aloud. Moving forward, you walked with your hand still clutching Kiyoomi’s arm, the both of you content enough to not pull away. “Although it struck me as odd... we’re a royal couple. Divorce is impossible. But he’d been so confident, so sure. Like he knew something could tear us apart and it’d be acceptable in the eyes of the law.”

Kiyoomi hummed in thought.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what he was thinking about either. I never really understood my brother, and I’ve long given up on trying,” he shrugs, “He’s a complicated man. That’s what happens when you’re lost and have no true sense of self.”

“He is lost, isn’t he?” you agreed, lifting your free hand to stare at the wedding ring you found so difficult to take off. “I don’t know what happens next now, but it seems as if I’m getting divorced soon.”

“That is good news, is it not?”

“Perhaps,” you mused, “Perhaps it is.”

You couldn’t ignore the call of your duties. It was often an upsetting reminder, the knowledge that being a Princess meant more than wearing frilly gowns, attending balls, and kissing your Prince Charming as you awaited a happy-ever-after.

If you’d known sooner that being a Princess meant being the Crown’s property as well... a small part of you might have hesitated. Might have.

It felt gruelling having to tear yourself away from the safety of your parents’ embrace. For the past few days, you’d been coddled, kissed over by a hundred soothing words. Something a Princess shouldn’t be doing or wanting, to be precise, especially not when you were expected to lead the country someday. It was a show of weakness, an act of incompetence. The Queen never failed to remind you that you weren’t your parents’ child anymore. You were of the Crown, and therefore had to act as the Crown – with dignity, with poise, and quite frankly – with very little heart.

With much hesitance, you bid farewell to the Yuzuru Estate. You left everything behind – the warmth and safety of your bed where no one could taint it, the reassuring and comforting smiles of your parents, and the unwavering support of your people. You headed straight for the Palace not long after, the feeling akin to a lamb walking into slaughter.

Still, you couldn’t deny – Inarizaki struck you mute with its orphic allure.

The cityscape shimmered under the glow of twilight as the royal convoy wound its way through the bustling streets. People of all kind waved and cheered at your arrival. Their smiles, innocent and genuine, sparked all the way from outside the vehicle. Silently, you waved back, hoping that it seemed real enough and no one would be able to tell the tracks of dried tears behind your makeup. And there, the palace loomed ever closer in the distance.

You watched as the grand edifice grew larger with each passing moment. Its towering spires and intricately carved facades were bathed in a golden hue, showcasing its storied past and enduring presence.

Like heaven on earth, a former devotee had once said, their arms gesturing all throughout the Palace grounds. Here where is the light touched us from the skies above, where the Gods have blessed us with their mercy and gave us their angels in the skins of Kings.

As a child, you’d gazed upon the palace with wide-eyed wonder, picturing the Palace as a bastion of wisdom and power – where the rules of the country made decisions that shaped the lives of the people they ruled upon. It had seemed almost holy, a symbol of reverence and awe. But now, as you approached the gates once more, you felt a deep, unsettling sense of selcouth – a strange, eerie unfamiliarity with the very place you had to call home.

The limousine glided through the ornate iron gates, flanked by guards in crisp uniforms.

The grandeur of the palace grounds, with its meticulously manicured gardens and majestic fountains, should have felt welcoming, but instead, it loomed with an imposing majesty that sent a shiver down your spine. The towering walls and endless corridors, once symbols of security and strength, now seemed to whisper secrets of a bygone era, of lives and stories woven into the very stones that built this palace brick by brick.

Stepping out of the car, you were immediately greeted by a retinue of attendants – their faces polite yet distant.

A lamb walking to its slaughter, indeed.

You knew exactly why you were called to return. The Queen had been insisting to speak with you, a call you ignored as you buried yourself into your sheets at the Yuzuru Estate. To say that you’d made Her Majesty livid would be an understatement. That much was clear from the staff’s expressions, their eyes hollow and lips set into a thin, grim line.

If you looked hard enough, maybe one of them would even look at you with pity.

Carefully, you made your way up the marble steps, each click of your heels on the carpeted floor echoing in the silence of the evening. It was eerily silent, like a predator lurked around the corner – simply waiting for the perfect opportunity to lunge for its kill.

The palace doors opened before you, greeting you with its bright, golden beams. Crystal chandeliers shimmered against the polished floors, the opulent decor speaking of centuries of wealth and power. The floors were too clean, too polished, like even a speck of dirt would be considered offensive.

At the back of your mind, you wondered if that held true for the monarchy as well. If the Queen scrubbed everything clean that is shone hard enough to deceive people into thinking that’s what they were – without fault, without flaw, without sin.

As you walked through the cavernous space, alienation blanketed you. The palace, for all its splendour, remained a mystery to you. You knew its rooms and corridors, its hidden passages and secret gardens that Rintaro revealed, but you didn’t know its heart. It was a place built on power and legacy, all with the might of a single family that had ruled for generations.

Your footsteps led you to the grand staircase leading into the Queen’s hall, its balustrade intricately wrought with gold and marble. You paused, your hand resting on the cool stone, and gazed ahead at the looming double doors of Her Majesty’s office.

How many had walked these steps before you? How many lives had been shaped by the decisions made within these walls? The weight of history pressed down on you, and you couldn’t help but ponder the immense responsibility that came with such power. You understood it a little better now – the Crown was not to be taken lightly. Heavy is the head that held the Crown, but heavier the heart might be for all the sins it concealed.

With a final sharp breath, you rapped your knuckles on the door and pushed open.

Her Majesty did not seem to age. She looked as she did on all the official royal portraits plastered on the tabloids and daily mail – elegant, beautiful, with dark eyes that read your every movement, and blood-red lips that dripped venom from each word.

Once, you’d considered her your second mother.

Now? She was nothing but a lonely figure, a formidable individual who you could barely recognize.

“Princess,” she greeted, her smile perfectly practiced and pristine. “I hope your temporary retreat to the family estate has been well.”

There was no ill behind her words, but neither did it carry sincerity. The Queen spoke like a recorded message, straight to the point and lacking of weight. Curtsying, you returned the gesture. “It was, Your Majesty. Thank you. I missed my parents dearly.”

“Sit down, child,” she spoke after a moment, and gestured before her. “Indulge your queen with a quick round, and then we shall discuss everything.”

The ornate shogi board, with its polished wooden surface and delicately carved pieces, was laid out between you both. The setting sun cast long shadows across the room, its golden light filtering through the tall, stained-glass windows, illuminating the intricate patterns it. Timidly, you sat down, pressing your skirts underneath you. You did play shogi, but it’d been a while. You had an inkling that this was one of those times you had to win, as nothing ever was a casual interaction with the Queen.

“...What did you want to talk about, Ma’am?”

“Firstly, your marriage. How is it? On second thought, don’t answer that. It’s written all over your face – you’re unhappy and miserable. Now, we can’t have that can we?” she teased, though her calm composure revealed nothing of her strategies – the tricks she’d hidden under her sleeve. “You are lucky the press has been quiet lately and they didn’t get a photo of your frown. Imagine how that would be interpreted by the people. ‘Princess returns from getaway vacation with her husband and comes back depressed. Could the cheating scandal be true, after all?’”

“It is true.”

“Indeed, but the public doesn’t need to know that,” she quickly retorted, gesturing for you to make your move. “What exactly are your thoughts on marriage?”

You moved your rook forward, aiming to control a vital column.

“Marriage, to me, is about finding a partner who becomes not only your greatest love but also your closest friend, someone who understands your heart and supports your aspirations. I believe marriage is built on a foundation of trust, respect, and unwavering commitment, where two souls come together to create a life filled with joy, love, and endless possibilities. It’s a bond that grows stronger with each passing day, a promise to cherish and nurture each other through all of life's adventures,” you answered, ensuring to meet Her Majesty’s gaze. “That was how my parents’ marriage has been. Beautiful, and enduring. That is how marriages should be.”

The Queen remains unfazed. Responding with a calculated advance of her knight, her move blocked your plans – forcing you to reconsider your strategy. Cornered, you bit your lip, realizing a little too late Her Majesty’s subtle yet effective intentions.

“Your parents married for love. They were both born with a silver spoon in their mouth, a great amount of wealth, and a high-ranking title that granted them the freedom to do anything as they pleased. And I am willing to bet it has never occurred to you that marriages outside your fantasy-like bubble could be different than that.”

You found yourself on the defensive as the game progressed. “There is nothing wrong in hoping and believing that love exists.”

“You are correct,” she nods, her gaze not once leaving the board. “But you are a lot more childish than I expected if you truly thought royal marriages would be the same. You see, child, civil marriages are mostly done out of love, and a commitment to one another. In certain cases, people marry because of unexpected pregnancies, for the need of companionship, or for the combination of assets. It’s easy, straightforward, and like the rest of us in our glorious Kingdom – a commitment. Divorce is not an option for anyone, but do you know what truly separates royal marriages from common ones?”

“That we are bound with more duties?”

The queen’s pieces moved with a graceful precision, each step tightening the net around your poorly drawn defences.

“It is that royal marriages are symbolic. Why is it that the royal family, despite being humans like everyone else, is worshipped and glorified?” she tapped her nail against the board, before leaning back into her seat. The sun’s glow hit her just right, and bathed her with an ethereal gloom. “It is because we offer an ideal, an escape to the bleak, miserable lives of the common folk. We are unlike them. If we lived like everybody else, then these people would have nothing to strive or look up to.”

You gritted your teeth. “But we are just like them. We cry and experience difficulties in marriages like they do. What good does it do the Crown when there is a clear distinction between us and our people? They will find us inscrutable, and out of their reach. How could they trust us to lead them when we live such different lives? How could they believe we would understand their struggles and listen to their cries of help if we do not show our true selves?”

“Because we as people are not perfect, and our true selves are cruel, immoral, and sinful. The Crown is not. The Crown is always flawless, shining like diamonds and standing out amongst the rest,” gesturing to the ornament on her head, the Queen continued. “We represent the Crown. We must mold ourselves into perfection. How could our people find us worthy to lead them if we are just as faulty and miserable as them?”

“So you are telling me to lie about my marriage.”

The Queen snorted. “Oh, I don’t need to tell you to do that, my dear. You’ve done that already by having that journalist write lies about how the scandal is nothing but a hoax,” at your widened, eyes, Her Majesty’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Oh, don’t be surprised. I am the Queen. Nothing you do in my Kingdom will ever be a secret from me.”

“If you knew all this time, why didn’t you stop me from releasing that article?”

She shrugged, turning her attention back to the board and grinning at the pieces – already, the pressure was getting to you. “Simple – because you did all the dirty work for me already. You cleared up the allegations that your husband is innocent, and effortlessly won the people’s trust back. As Queen, I will never stop you from doing things that benefit me, even if you must take a suspicious hand to do so.”

The Queen’s relentless advances pushed you back to desperation. Hoping to create a barrier against the impending threat, you moved your bishop to a defensive position once more. “I didn’t have it written for you, or the Crown. I did it because I couldn’t stand my husband beat himself up after his own people turned against him.”

“And that is exactly why you’d make the perfect Queen for him,” she advanced her gold general, its path clear and purposeful. “I’ll be honest with you. My marriage with the Late King hasn’t been a fairytale.”

Now, it was your turn to snore. “I can figure. He’s done worse than what Rintaro did.”

“Indeed. Eight bastard sons, and a dozen of mistresses he couldn’t even bother to hide from me,” she hummed, and for the first time since meeting with her, the Queen’s mask slowly slipped off.

Gone was the regal woman who everyone worshipped. Sat before you now was an older, more mature reflection of yourself – a woman who’d been torn, ripped apart to pieces, and forced to stay in a marriage she badly wanted an escape from.

“I was useless to His Majesty unless I bore his son, and three miscarriages later, he’d given up and turned to other conquests. With each son born, my title as his wife was threatened, and the Kingdom was slowly growing unstable as his scandals became uncontrollable. Before I knew it, the Crown was falling apart. The people were beginning to hate us. Our allies stopped reaching out, and the whole world thought we were nothing but a joke.”

You were too young to remember everything in detail, but you could recall those days when your parents ran around the estate, their frowns permanent and their voices hushed during dinner. Something about the Crown becoming fragile, no thanks to His Majesty’s endeavours.

“It was a difficult time for Inarizaki. I was growing desperate, and when one was desperate, one would take desperate measures,” mumbled the Queen, “And so Rintaro arrived, and I thought... this was it. This was my salvation. I could restore the glory of the Crown back to the way it was. This boy... he would solve all my problems. So I did, one by one. I arranged the marriage of Maiko and Tooru, feeding a story to the people of childhood friends turned to lovers – the symbol of love. And then came Iris and Kiyoomi’s wedding, to fortify our alliance to Itachiyama by having locals as their representatives. We had to make them feel seen, heard. And then, there was you,” her icy-cold glare met yours, something dark and sinister flashing through them. “When Rintaro told me he wanted to marry you, I couldn’t decide yet if you were going to be a blessing or a curse.”

You moved your knight in a desperate attempt to divert the queen’s attention. “I’ve been your daughter in law for four months now. Have you decided?”

“The decision of whatever you will be is all in your hands,” when the Queen faltered at your movement, you felt a glimmer of hope as she paused, considering the development. “I’m aware Rintaro wishes to divorce you. It’s impossible, but I think you know that already.”

“I don’t know, actually. He sounded pretty convinced we could be separated.”

The Queen’s eye twitched, her free hand gripping the edge of the table. “He is an idiotic child. You cannot divorce him. If you let him do as he pleases, he will marry that whore of his. I cannot risk destroying our already fragile relationship with Itachiyama by hurting their dear, darling Prince.”

“Kiyoomi wouldn’t be hurt. He doesn’t even want Iris.”

“Nobody knows that. All they will see is that his wife was impregnated by our Crown Prince, and chose to leave their Prince for ours. Itachiyama is not to be messed around with, child. They hold a majority of our country’s natural resources. Think of fuel, livestock, and produce. All of that will be withheld from us. Our people will starve. This is why you need to make this marriage work, and let Rintaro take the throne.”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you gestured for the Queen to make her move. “Ushijima can take the throne. He has proven himself to be reliable.”

“The first Prince cannot be King. I forbid him to.”

“And why is that?”

Just as the hope appeared, the Queen mercilessly crushed it. She’d seen right through your ploy, continuing her methodical advance as she devoured you in one move. “Because he is a good, honourable man. The moment he wears the Crown and finds out the dark secrets of what has made the royal family so powerful, the cruel things we’ve done to ensure we stay in power, he will expose it and push for democracy. I refuse to let my life’s worth of suffering to be wasted over a man with too big a conscience.”

You faltered, your grip on your piece loosening. “Secrets? What are you talking about?”

“The King, my dear. Did you really think a young, healthy man like him died from a heart attack?” throwing her head back in laughter, the Queen clutched at her stomach and wiped away a stray tear. “I killed him. A woman can only endure so much abuse from a man who does not love her.”

Your face fell.

Undaunted, the Queen leant forward to place her hand on yours in what seemed to be an attempt for reassurance. It is anything but, not with the Queen’s cruel smile. “It’s scary. Trust me, I know. I have been in your shoes and experienced far worse. But do not be scared, Princess, because you have me. So let Rintaro become King, and once you have gotten all the power from being Queen, then you can make Inarizaki flourish. And when the time comes that you grow sick of that boy... you can always tell me. It wouldn’t be the first time this Kingdom lost their King at the hands of their Queen.”

Your mind conjured up of the most horrid of images. Of Rintaro perishing at the hands of his own mother, of your husband’s eyes slowly losing its light.

And to think she was someone you’d once thought of as your own family.

“You are insane. Yes, he has hurt me. Yes, he has crushed my pride with his fists, but to kill him? To take the life of my husband? I could never be so cruel. And what makes you think Rintaro would want to be King, anyway? He already plans on divorcing me!”

“He will be King if I tell him to. He has no choice. He is the Crown Prince–”

“You cannot force him–”

“Yes, I can, because I am the Queen and I am all he has! He will do as I say unless he wants to be exiled!”

“Exiled?” you echoed, laughing in disbelief. “Why would he be exiled?”

The Queen suddenly shot up, and slammed her hands on the table. “Because he isn’t my son, or the King’s! He is a nobody. He’s just a random gardener’s boy. I took him from his parents to secure my title. If he refuses to be King... then you leave me no choice but to exile you both.”

The revelation struck you like a bolt of lightning.

Breathless and trembling, your world tilted as the truth unfurled before you – your husband, the man who you believed to be a true Prince, the only and treasured Crown Prince, was nothing more than an imposter.

Your heart pounded in your chest as betrayal and disbelief clouded your thoughts. You sat there frozen, eyes wide with shock, unable to process the enormity of his deception. The lavish room around you began to blur and fade, your once cherished memories of being the chosen, the lucky one for being the Crown Prince’s wife, was now tainted bitterly by his lies.

Could it be... that he knew all along?

It all made sense now. His insistence for divorce, his need to push you away. Divorce, or annulment, would be possible once you’d revealed it was never a royal marriage.

Your throat ran dry. Nevertheless, you remained seated, refusing to give in to the Queen’s baits as you drew out a shaky breath. “Go ahead. Exile us. I don’t care. Ushijima will still be King even if Rintaro refuses–”

“There is one more Prince who could be King, one I am confident I can control, and one I am certain will do well in hiding my secrets,” she smirked with a triumphant and wicked glint in her eye. “All I need to do is have him marry that actress, threaten him with the sex tape, and he will happily be King if it means he could have all that he wants.”

Your stomach dropped. It was impossible – Kuroo had deleted all and any traces of that tape. But truly, what did you know? This was the Queen you were up against. This was her kingdom, her playground. As she’d said, nothing could be hidden from her, but to think Atsumu would and could be King... “No. H-He can’t be...”

“Oh, but he can,” her smile grew sharp, malevolent. “And you have no idea the things Atsumu would do to Rintaro once he learns that your husband is nothing but a no-name lowborn nobody.”

“How could you do this to him? You robbed him of his life!”

Scoffing, the Queen reared back. “It was hardly a life. His parents were both poor and starving to death. I saved him from that fate and offered him the luxuries of a royal,” she spat out, shifting her skirts behind as she plopped down on the seat before you.

As you looked back at the game, the reality of your position became undeniable. The queen’s pieces were everywhere, controlling the board with ease. You could see your end approaching, your king cornered with no escape. The Queen knew this, too, an air of triumph surrounding her as she chuckled.

“You see now, don’t you? Everything was already set in stone. Rintaro will be the King. It’s the only way he can remain alive and breathing. If he dares to go against my will and my word, I will not hesitate to kill him. And when he dies, no one will mourn him. He will be remembered as an adulterer, and a new, better, rightfully deserving King will take his place.”

The queen moved her rook into position, the final piece in her flawless strategy.

You stared at the board, recognizing the inevitability of your defeat. As much as you hated to admit it, you could see the beauty in Her Majesty’s play – the way each move had been part of a larger plan, a dance of strategy and foresight perfected through years of manipulation.

“Make your marriage work,” the Queen warned, leaning back against her seat. She knew she’d already won. “It’s the only way you can stop this Kingdom from being burnt to ashes. And if you wish to make a difference? Well, my dear. The Crown is all you need.”

With a deep breath, you moved your king as you acknowledged your defeat.

The Queen’s face lit up in pure joy. “Checkmate.”

You promptly left the queen’s office, your steps slow and heavy as if each stride carried the weight of the world.

Around you, the palace corridors seemed to close in around you. Your mind churned with the devastating realization that all your foolish hopes of escaping the royal confines and finding freedom now slipped through your fingers.

The conversation with Her Majesty unravelled the last threads of your resolve, revealing a cruel ultimatum that nearly drove you mad – stay and sacrifice your dreams of peace, or abandon the kingdom to ruin.

The queen’s words echoed in your mind with each step, her words like a dagger effortlessly piercing any fragile hope you clung to. It wasn’t an easy decision either – if you stayed, you would be bound to a life of duty and subjugation, your own desires forever stifled beneath the weight of the Crown’s expectations. Yet, the alternative was even more harrowing – to leave would be to condemn the kingdom, your people, to chaos and despair. You couldn’t do that; couldn’t be so cruel to let the Kingdom fall under the rule of the heartless Miya Atsumu.

The gravity of having that decision placed in your hands left you reeling, your heart caught in a vice of impossible choices. It was only a question which was more important now: your freedom, or this country’s downfall? Was the price of your divorce really worth the suffering of millions of innocents?

The palace, with all its grandeur and beauty, was no more than a prison now. The one you would spend a lifetime locked in should you choose the right thing to do.

As you walked back to your chambers, your gaze remained fixed on the floor, where the marble tiles glistened coldly beneath you. How could you notice only now? The Palace had always been this way – cold, unfeeling, and empty. It was impossible to find love within these walls, not when dark secrets lurked at every corner, and blood was spilled to remain in power. But innocent you were not, because regardless of the Queen’s sins, you couldn’t blame her for it.

When one’s humanity was constantly tested, monstrosity would soon break through the skin.

If you truly wish to make a difference, the Crown is all you need.

The Queen was right.

Long before you stepped into her office, she’d already read your mind, known what it is you would say. You would advocate for peace, become a paladin to pave a better way for the people. But to do such would mean to hold power greater than everyone else. And if one did not wield that power properly, territories would be split apart, cities would fall, and your Kingdom would be nothing more than a tragedy that went down in history.

The fate of your people was now all up to you.

With that in mind, the air around you seemed heavy with the weight of impending doom. You moved with a sense of numb resignation, each step a reminder of the bleak future that awaited you.

Before you knew it, you’d arrived at your chambers, emptily staring into the mahogany double doors. Behind these doors... there’d be no more Suna Rintaro. Just Rintaro, you told yourself. The son of a nobody, a man who is a nobody. To think that he’d known all this time, and still dragged you into the belly of the beast that was the Crown... it was difficult to fan the flames of your hatred. You had to remind yourself to keep it down – to not let it consume you. If it did, then you wouldn’t be any better than the Queen. If you hated him more, then you might risk it all and leave Inarizaki to its own damnation.

If I loved him less, you gripped the doorknob, biting the inside of your cheek as memories of your husband flashed in your mind, I could save this Kingdom.

“Princess, you’re back!”

Your eyes shifted to the bumbling figure before you. Airi scuttled towards your way, her eyes wide and nervously fiddling with the way your hands hovered over the doors. The gesture made you frown, and you dropped your hands to soothe her. “Hello, Airi. How have you been?”

“I’m good, but... I should be asking you that, Your Highness.”

“I am well. I just want to rest now,” you told her, brows pinching together when she suddenly stood between you and the door, her gaze planted at her feet. You sighed. “Airi, why are you blocking my way?”

“Uhm, you see...”

You’d been in this situation countless of times before – around wary maids with their gazes bouncing between you and the doors. It didn’t come as a question anymore. Those looks only ever meant Iris. This time, however, the thought no longer squeezed the life out of your heart. You merely sighed and pushed past Airi, her protests falling on deaf ears.

And truly, it shouldn’t come as a surprise anymore that it would involve her, but you couldn’t fathom this happening even in your wildest of dreams.

Your bedrooms had been stripped bare. Gone were all your clothings, your shoes, your perfume and makeup on the vanity table. The heady scent of vanilla cloaked over the room so heavy it felt suffocating. Iris was everywhere – her wristwatch on the table, her folded nightgown on your bed, her fluffy slippers right next to your husband’s. On the coat rack before your bedroom were their coats hung together, his necktie delicately intertwined with her scarf.

It was as if you never existed in the first place.

Your jaw clenched, fists balling at your sides. You deliberately ignored Airi’s desperate pleas after you, and stormed right into the bedroom. Iris was nowhere to be seen, but Rintaro was there. Sleeping on the couch without a care in the world, a book covering his face as his chest fell with his steady breaths.

“Rin. Rintaro,” you poked his chest, your irritation further fuelled when he didn’t budge. Gritting your teeth, you swatted his book to the side, careful to not let the hard-bound edges nick his nose. “Suna Rintaro!”

Your husband’s eyes shot open. Panic flooded his gaze upon the sight of you, until he groaned, falling back into the couch as he went back to slumber. “Oh. You’ve returned.”

You tried to ignore the way he’d sounded so disinterested, like you were nothing but a bother. You crossed your arms against your chest instead, and demanded for an explanation. “Why is Iris’ belongings here in our room?”

“It’s our room now. I had your things moved.”

“Moved where?”

“Belleview Manor.”

Your jaw dropped. “You – you can’t do that! You can’t move my things around without my permission!”

“I just did,” came his bored reply. Then, he sat up, resting his arms on his knees as he lazily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Odd, considering he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Listen, could you... could you stop screaming? It was the doctor’s orders. He said as the father of the child, I needed to be by her side at all times. She might feel sick in the middle of the night. I have to be there for her.”

The weight of the harshness of his words pressed onto you like a physical force.

You detested it – the way he looked at you, or through you. Three days he did not call. Three days he did not bother to even leave a text. Three days since he’d left abandoned you like he did a hundred times before, with not even a trace of guilt present on his face.

“And what about me?”

“What about you?” he raised a brow, challenging you as he stood up to his full height and turned his nose down at you. “I told you already, didn’t I? I don’t want you anymore. So go. Don’t make yourself look even more pathetic by staying around and hoping I’ll change my mind.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Rintaro’s cold rejection struck you like a slap. Your heart clenched painfully at the cruel finality of his command, rendering you frozen and unable to grasp reality. Time itself had fractured. The room around you seemed to dim, the deepening shadows darkening the hard features of his face.

Your vision blurred with unshed tears as you felt the ground beneath you sway, the emotional blow rendering you unsteady. With a last, fleeting look at the man you had once adored, you turned away.

“Fine.”

You spun on your heel and ran out of the room. The sting of his rejection propelled you through the grand corridors of the palace. Tears blurred your vision, and you furiously wiped them away, each swipe a desperate attempt to not drown in the flood of sorrow.

You could hear the final pieces of your marriage crumbling, the sound a haunting melody of betrayals that echoed within your soul. This was it. You wouldn’t tolerate anymore of his cruelty. You’d had enough – your chest aching with a numb, all-consuming hurt. You longed to scream, imagining the echo of your agony bouncing off the empty hallways of the palace, but no sound escaped your lips. It was as if your lungs had exhausted its air, just as your heart had lost all its will to beat again for the man you married.

As you burst through the palace doors and into the open air, the sky mirrored your inner turmoil, the dark clouds gathering ominously.

The first raindrops began to fall, mingling with your tears. You couldn’t focus on anything but to run, run as far away from here possible, to keep running until your legs could no longer.

You suddenly stumbled upon the length of your dress, your steps faltering on the slick ground. You tripped over your own feet as your strength failed you, and you fell on your knees, your hands plunging into a cold puddle. It soiled the ends of your pristine dress, with mud caked on your shoes and your knees scratched from the pavement.

The rain poured down harder, a relentless deluge that matched the intensity of your sobs.

You cried so hard it felt impossible to breath, your body wracking with despair. Each thunderclap overhead felt like the heavens themselves roaring in sympathy with your agony.

Your mind whirled with thoughts of broken promises and unfulfilled dreams. The life you’d envisioned with Rintaro – his promises, the beach house, the dogs, the children to be had and loved, the life to have been lived – it was now nothing more than a shattered illusion. And the pain? It cut deep, leaving its mark until it embedded itself into your bones. You could die and be buried and the remnants of your hurt would remain carved up in your carcass, never to be healed, never to be withered, never to vanish even long after your death.

You felt lost in a cosmogyral spiral, the universe spinning with your loneliness as its epicentre – your existence reduced to a solitary point in an endless void.

You wanted to run, to hide from the pain he had caused and inside. To scream and cry until the hurt faded, yet it remained, a stubborn shadow clinging to your soul and refusing to let go. You aimlessly clawed at your chest like you could rip out your broken heart, and throw it to the next clueless person to come across you.

Through the curtain of rain, a dark silhouette approached.

You looked up, and the onslaught of rain suddenly ceased above your head, replaced by the soft patter of raindrops on an umbrella. The dark figure finally bent down his legs, his face illuminated by the gummuservi on the puddles.

Kneeling before you was Kiyoomi, his eyes filled with a sorrowful kindness that pierced through your pain like a cold balm on a cut. The umbrella he held cast a protective halo over you, sheltering you from the storm.

You felt... protected. Shielded from the world with nothing but his umbrella, warmed by the heat of his body. He studied you with an intensity that made you feel seen, truly seen, for the first time in a long while. His eyes traced the contours of your face, absorbing your pain as if it were his own. And when he tenderly said your name, the rain became a mere whisper, the world fading into the background as a silent understanding passed between you.

He didn’t speak anymore, but his actions conveyed what words could not. Gently, he took your hand and guided you to your feet, his grip firm yet tender.

“He made you cry again, didn’t he?”

In that moment, the storm seemed to lose its ferocity. The thunder rolled away in the distance as if giving you a moment of respite.

“It hurts so much, Kiyoomi,” you cried out to him, eyes closing when his thumb reached over to swipe at a fallen tear. “What... what did I wrong? What did I do to deserve this? How could he keep doing this to me? He-he pushes me away, betrays me, and then says he loves me and each time I think that maybe I’ve changed his mind – because I’m nothing but a fool – he reminds me, time and time again, that I hadn’t done a thing at all! I couldn’t... I could never change his mind. He is never going to love me. And it’s entirely too late but I think – I think that I no longer love–”

“–You’re right. He will never love you,” Kiyoomi’s eyes darkened, tentative as he takes two steps to close the distance. “But I do.”

“What?”

Your eyes widened as Kiyoomi’s sudden confession fell upon your ears. The world around you seemed to momentarily freeze, the vibrant colours of the garden blurring into muted hues. Your hand instinctively flew to your mouth, stifling the gasp that escaped you.

The serene beauty of the surroundings, with its delicate flowers and tranquil fountains, froze in the passage of time.

“I love you,” he says, sounding broken and wholly unsure. “I always have.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you loved him, and I had to live with the fact you would never look my way,” just as the moment started, it broke – Kiyoomi took a step back as if needing to distance himself away, but still with his umbrella hovering protectively. “My apologies, Princess. I did not mean to add more on to your burdens–”

You didn’t let him finish speaking.

Without another word, your hand moved with a swift and determined grace as you reached up, grasping Kiyoomi by the collar. The fabric, cool and smooth beneath your fingers, was tugged gently but firmly to draw him closer – needing more of him, wanting more of him. You could breathe him in and consume him whole, and it still wouldn’t be enough. He had to be certain of this, too, and you kept your touch tender and insistent, a silent command that left no room for hesitation and argument.

Kiyoomi’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the heat of your proximity, felt your breasts crushing his chest, the racing of your heart against his. The world was entirely bending to your will as it narrowed to the space between you and him.

In a single, fluid motion, your lips met his.

The kiss was a fierce, passionate declaration – charged with all the emotions that had been restrained and unspoken. It was a melding of fervor and tenderness, every unvoiced feeling poured into this single, electrifying contact that set your nerves alight.

Kissing Kiyoomi was akin to being in a comic explosion.

The kiss ignited a cascade of feelings, a burst of heat that seemed to set the very air around you ablaze. It was as if a thousand fireworks had been set off in the quiet of the night, each spark and burst of light a vidid expression of all the affections you’d held back. Because by the Gods, how long have you thought about this? How many kisses had you played in your mind before it finally took place? The initial contact was electric, a jolt of fervor and longing surging through you, ripples of euphoria cascading through your entire beings.

And when he finally kissed you back, his moan soft and nearly muted like a secret he’d whispered, Kiyoomi unfurls like a blossom in bloom.

It was an ardent embrace of sensation that led to intoxication, a symphony of fireworks that ignited every nerve, flooding your senses with an addicting blend of his heat, sweetness, and the stray drops of rain.

In that fleeting moment, the world around you ceased to exist. The universe only held you and Kiyoomi in this ephemeral moment, his face now cradled in your palms, along with his soft, sweet moans swallowed and kept at the back of your mind. Time stood still, as your hearts and lips intertwined in this dance of longing acknowledged.

The need to breathe caught up eventually, forcing the two of you to slowly draw apart. Gazes locked, reflecting the hungering and unsatiated desire born from that first explosive contact.

Kiyoomi’s arms encircled you not a moment later, drawing you closer as if to hold onto the fragile, precious connection that had been forged. The intensity in his gaze softened, and you smiled up at him, frightened – realizing a little too late at what you’d just done.

You’d kissed Kiyoomi.

You’d kissed a married man.

Frantically, you scrambled away from him, ignoring the dejected look on his face when your actions caused his umbrella to drop. He, too, began to be soaked in the rain. His shirt clung to his skin, his curls now plastered against his face. Yet, he made no move, and remained where he stood – his chest rising and falling with each, staggered breath. And god, he looked ethereal like this – face flushed, lips bruised from your kiss, and his hands twitching by his side with the need to pull you close.

But he never does. He’d let you be the one to decide on that. His submission, his decision to give up and place all the power in your hands, was written all over his face.

If we are to kiss, it would have to be me instigating it.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“–It’s not a mistake, and I don’t regret it,” Kiyoomi declared, his gaze hard and firm. Then, he makes a show of slipping of his ring and throwing it to the side – the gold band swallowed up by the puddles. He’s in your space the next moment, his eyes closed yet vulnerable as he takes your palm, and rests his cheek there. “Use me. If you need me to forget him, if that’s what it takes... then use me. I am yours.”

[fayes-fics]

Kinktober: Somnophilia

Kinktober 2024 Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, married couple, bondage/restraint, consensual sex during sleep, vaginal sex, dirty talk, smidge of light breathplay/choking, creampie.

Word Count: 2.0k (drabble hahah)

Author’s Note: First of my Kinktober 2024 fics for Benedict. There are a couple of POV switches. All under the cut as it's filth from the first paragraph. Enjoy! <3

It’s an illicit thrill you love. To wake up to your husband fucking you hard, or if you’re really lucky, to a delicious ache between your legs and the sensation of his seed dripping from your insides, already having taken what is his.

He knows the nights you want it, too. You will retire to bed early, climbing into bed naked and propping pillows under your hips. Falling asleep face down, no covering at all, the outline of your body unmistakable, the oil you have rubbed between your legs glistening in the glow from the fireplace or moonlight. An open invitation you know he will accept. 

—

Tonight, he walks in and smiles to himself, instinctively swelling in his britches at the mere sight of you like that. He loves that you play with him like this; truly the very best wife he could ever have hoped for. Always willing, adventurous, spontaneous, trusting him with your forbidden desires.

He will never forget the first time you confessed to wanting this. Burying your face into his shoulder post-coital and softly asking if he would come to you in the night and take you while you slept. He couldn’t be happier to indulge you, loving it just as much as you. Climbing over your prone body and fucking you, covering you so you cannot move or escape, just as you wish. Sometimes, he will even tie your hands behind your back with his cravat so you awaken utterly at his mercy. 

Those, you once confessed to him, are your favourite nights.

And so tonight, he does just that. He unwinds his cravat and places it on the bed while he discards the rest of his clothes quickly. Pumping his cock in his fist a few times as he just looks upon you. Naked, open, your pussy lips and inner thighs gleaming temptingly with oil and your arousal. The sounds of your peaceful, even breaths as you sleep.

Gracefully, he mounts the bed, grabbing his unfurled cravat and crawling between your splayed legs. Carefully, he manoeuvres your hands from around your head, bending them so the rest in the small of your back, glancing up to ensure you are still slumbering before looping the material around your wrists a few times until they are bound together, tieing a neat bow and admiring his handiwork for a few seconds, you restrained under him now. One day, he will lash your ankles to the bedposts, your hands too, perhaps—spreadeagled for him to do as he wants, well, as you both want.

He lines up his cock and sinks deep into your tight pussy without a moment's hesitation, closing his eyes, his mouth falling a little slack at that wonderous soaked heat, your walls suctioning to him in that way he can never get enough of. Somehow always better than the last time, even if it was mere hours before. 

Indeed, earlier that day, you had climbed into his lap at his desk as he was running some accounts for Anthony, asking with pleading eyes for him to indulge you. And he had. Leaned back in his chair and let you unbutton his trousers and ride his cock, loving the sight of you undulating on him, eyes rolling and the little noises of exertion you made as you hungrily chased your pleasure. Now, it is his turn to be the one to exert the energy, to give rather than receive.

He pushes your thighs wider apart with his, the pillows under your hips allowing him to slide balls deep into your irresistible warmth, so far he can nudge your hilt, knowing how much that makes you wild, unlike others he had been with who don’t enjoy it, knowing how lucky he is to have found you. In fact, right now, he never wants to leave your body, wishing he could live sheathed inside you.

Leaning over your back, he blankets your skin with his, rocking his hips and grunting lightly into your hair with the exertion. If you do wake, you always want it to be while caged under him, with him growling right in your ear about how you are his, his to fuck, his to own, possessive talk you crave and demand from him. He loves you more than life itself and would never want or seek to control you. Indeed, you are the one with all of the power over him—holding his very heart in your tender hands. But when you play like this, he knows what you need, what you want to hear, to rocket you into pleasure. The feel of you clenching around him when he says you are his little toy to fuck is exquisite. 

He smirks as you shift a little, your bottom twitching under his pelvis as he drives into you, loving the wet sound your cunt makes when he withdraws all the way and then ploughs back in. That has you moaning unconsciously, and he wonders how close you are to being awake. He can always tell when you are just pretending to be asleep still, he knows all your tells. But tonight, you seem drowsier than usual, and he glances over to the nightstand, spying a whiskey tumbler and chuckling under his breath. Sometimes, you will have a few nightcaps to make yourself tipsy and more drowsy to his onslaught. Yet he knows if he finds you in this position, it’s your greenlight, your complete permission, even if intoxicated. 

—

You stir to the best feeling in the world. Pinned under your husband as he plunges sharply into your leaking cunt, realising your hands are tied behind your back and trapped under his flexing body, your thighs spread so wide your tendons ache, the fuzzy meat of his quad muscles stopping you from attempting to close them.

Not that you want to. Your face chafes on the pillow from Benedict fucking you so thoroughly, your entire being jerking with each thrust he takes. It makes you utterly mindless even as you skate the line between awake and asleep, strong liquor coursing in your system, feeling louche, pliant, floating on a cloud already, every sensation heightened. You sense every ridge and vein in his sizeable cock as he pushes into you, piling deep to that spot that makes you mindless.

“My sleeping beauty,” he rumbles in your ear, and you can’t help the reflexive clench of your cunt on his shaft. He groans then chuckles as he realises that means you have awoken. But it also signifies he will talk more now that he has his captive audience; literally, that is. You can barely move an inch, constrained under his power as you are. 

“All mine,” he pants as he snaps his hips more forcefully, so much so you feel pressure on the mattress where his hard tip drives so deep. You crave this. This feeling of his cock buried so far it could alter your body shape. “You cannot go anywhere, little one,” he gloats. “I have you tied at my mercy, and you will take it all, do you hear me?”

You do not respond verbally, keeping up the shared pretence of your continued sleep. Instead, you flex your fingers, stroking the downy line that trails from his belly button over his taut abdomen into his pubic hair, your silent signal for him to continue. When you play like this, your favourite thing to do is just listen to his filthy tirade, getting more desperate and breathy as he spirals towards his climax, taking you with him.

Part of you wishes you had gotten out the beautiful bejewelled nipple clamps he brought you from Paris. The feel of them dragging against the rucked sheets would be heaven. 

“What is my sleeping beauty dreaming of, hmm?” He queries rhetorically. “I always know when you are picturing something so very naughty… for you constrict around me and leak all over my cock anew.”

You smile into the pillow, knowing he sees it in profile, and he leans in more, kissing the curve of your cheekbone with a hot trail of damp lips. 

“It is always something utterly debauched,” he declares, his breath so loud in your ear as his pace never wavers, so much athleticism packed into his lithe form. “Perhaps it is that my wife wants me to spank her shapely bottom?” He posits duskily, making you moan as he lightly slaps the cheek under his hip. “Or is that she wants a little discomfort on her nipples?” he guessed accurately, able to read you like an open book.

Again you clench unbidden around his invading cock, and he groans. 

“Should have worn your little jewels, my sweet wife,” he echoes your sentiments exactly. “But I suppose, for now, you may have my fingers…”

He works his hands between your ribs and the mattress, pinching both your nipples roughly between his thumb and forefinger, and it’s a beeline to your throbbing clit. His balls press that swollen nub with each downstroke he takes, but it’s not quite enough to throw you over the edge, not yet.

You start to squirm, wanting a shade of tussle, primarily so that he will hold you down firmly. And he does, withdrawing his fingers from your breasts to grab the dip of your waist from behind and lean his weight onto you there, a pressure that knocks the wind from your lungs just a little, only able to take short panted breaths for his next few punishing strokes.

“Stay down, my Briar Rose,” he warns, his voice smokey and low. “For I will only give you what you want if you stay asleep, sweet one.”

You desist, submitting to his demands. Your wrists flex in his tight binding as he crowds over you now, wraps a hand around your throat and puts a gentle squeeze of pressure on either side of your neck, his fingers flexing in time with his lunging moves.

“Mine… mine… mine…” he chants into your nape, your eyes screwed shut now, trying your best to stay limp and pliant to this conquer, wanting so much to push back into his hips and take as much as you get, even as he has you so thoroughly immobilised.

His feet twine around yours, rocking his knees so he hits a new angle, and you can't help the groan that escapes your lips, him lashing a place in your cunt that send you spiralling. It makes him laugh; you feel it inside, his cock bobbing in sync. Then he escalates his movements, hitting that spot over and over in rapid succession until you are whimpering loudly behind your lips, pulled under your teeth, biting down to stop yourself from expressing too much, the rush of orgasm hurtling towards you.

“Take it all, sweet sleeping beauty,” he demands, and his grip gets desperate, his thrusts punishing, his breath staccato. Then, just as you feel yourself skating that oblivion, he propels you over that edge, your entirety seeming to condense down to a pinpoint, then violently explode outwards, fracturing around him, your heart beating wildly in your chest. He stills as your cunt contracts around him in acute waves, milking him of the seed that empties heavily into you, a hot stream that never seems to stop, him grunting with each palpitation.

Benedict collapses over you, heaving breaths, both of you flushed, skin tacky, adhering to each other. For a few beats, you just lay under him, utterly sated, floating on a wave of chemicals you know you are addicted to.

“Greetings, husband…” you giggle, craning over your shoulder to catch his gaze, the pretence and play over.

He barks a laugh and lands a wet kiss on the top notch of your spine as he delicately unwinds the silk from your wrists, releasing you. “Greetings, dear wife. I trust you slept well.”

“Like the dead…” you answer wryly, and that has him breaking out his crooked smile that always makes you melt, rearranging in each other's arms to sleep, limbs entwined, faces together. For real, this time.

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[tpwk-formula1]

Kinktober Day 13 - Mile High Club - LH44

Lewis Hamilton X Reader

TW

WC

Y/N POV

Heading to Austin from Monaco was gonna be a long flight but I was glad I wasn't flying alone. When I walk onto Lewis's jet I instantly notice him and Rosco are cuddled on the couch where he instantly spots me making a smile grow on his face.

"Sorry work was hectic," I groan before basically flopping onto Lewis before giving him a quick kiss and showering Rosco with some love since I had seen him since I left early this morning for work.

"You're all good love. We don't take off for another 30 minutes but I wanted to make sure Rosco was settled before the plane took off so we got here early," Lewis explains making me nod my head before getting comfortable and cuddling with my husband of three years.

As everything finishes up on the plane our pilot enters on making not Lewis and I sit up properly to shake his hand and exchange simple greetings before he made his way into the cockpit where he closed the door behind him where we heard a soft click sound letting us know he had clocked the door completely, giving Lewis and I privacy.

We have had the same pilot for years so it wasn't uncommon for him to just leave it open but it was nice feeling like it was just Lewis and I after the long day I had just had.

As the plane starts to take off Lewis and I make our way to the bed that's in the back of the plane so we can lay down and hopefully get some sleep. Rosco continued to sleep on the couch side eying us when we made too much noise getting off the couch.

When we get into the room I instantly changed into a more comfortable outfit knowing I didn't want to sleep in my work clothes. When I crawl into bed I found Lewis lying in a pair of sweats having disregarded his shirt before climbing in. I settled into in being pulled close to Lewis where I rested my head on one of his arms while the other wrapped around my waist keeping me close to him.

"Tell me about your day love," Lewis whispers breaking the silence but keeping his volume down to keep it a relaxed environment still.

"I'm convinved my boss would actually commit arson if I quit. I'm not even trying to be cocky but the way he acts when I leave for more than a few days is like a child who doesn't wanna see their parents leave for vacation. He was like spazzing that something would go wrong while I was gone as if I wasn't still gonna be working remotely," I softly explain making Lewis roll his eyes at the boss he knows is extremely incompetent.

"Why don't you just leave?" Lewis questions making me laugh softly and shake my head. It had been a topic of conversation for a while and while I knew we would be living completely comfortable it felt weird not being able to contribute to anything.

"Lew, it feels wrong. I like being able to have my own money and not need to ask you to send me money when I need to get groceries or I want to buy new makeup," I whisper back making Lewis groan hoping that today would be the day I finally quit.

We fall back into a comfortable silence for a little while before Lewis places a soft kiss on my cheek that he quickly started trailing to my lips where he climbed on top of me.

"Lewis, are you sure?" I pull back slightly to make sure this was the road he wanted to take.

While this was far from the first time we had hooked up on one of our long flights it was the first time we would be doing something like this in a while. As we got older we found ourselves hooking up in the plane less and less finding that quickies were just not as good as being able to take our time.

"Yes," Lewis whispers grinding into my waist slightly so I can feel how hard he is getting.

Lewis starts trailing his mouth from my lips down my neck where he starts playing with the bottom of my shirt feeling his hands slip under before they start moving towards my tits.

When he gets to his destination I can feel him leaving wet kisses all over my neck while his fingers start teasing and pinching my nipples.

When he feels like he has teased my nipples enough he removes his hands from under my shirt he pulls my sleep shorts off with ease keeping the black thong I was wearing on knowing I never like to be fully undressed in the plane even if we where about to have sex.

He shuffles his body down slightly where he leaves on long lick on my panty-covered pussy. I could tell I was soaking through my panties simply from the way he moaned from being able to taste me.

"How are you already this wet for me," Lewis teased. I just moan at his words hoping he would speed it up a little.

Lewis just laughed lightly into my pussy making me whine from the vibrations. Lewis finally decided to put me out of my misery but sliding my panties to the side where he licked from my leaking holes to my clit where he pulled it pulled it between his lips and gave it a long suck.

The actions Lewis was taking on my pussy had me trembling in the bed slightly. I hadn't been able to feel Lewis's mouth in a couple weeks which had me instantly wanting to cum even though I wanted to draw this out as long as possible.

"Feels to good," I softly moan trying to keep my volume down knowing it I spoke too loud the pilots would be able to hear us.

"You wanna cum already," Lewis teased as he slips two thick fingers into my hole making me gasp when his fingers grazed my G-spot.

"Lew," I moan knowing I wouldn't be able to get much else out feeling my orgasm start to creep up.

"Cum for me," Lewis whispers before taking my clit back into my mouth and speeding up with fingers in my pussy to making sure he was hitting my G-spot at an impossible speed.

I instantly start cumming all over his fingers and face, but being able to control the loud moan I let out. I instantly have my hands covering my face while Lewis continues to help me ride my orgasm out. When I start coming down from my orgasm I can feel Lewis start to tease my clit with the tip of his cock.

I start whining from the overstimulation of his actions but I can't deny the fact that it feels amazing. When Lewis has collected a good amount of my pussy juice and feels like hsi cock is slick enough I feel him start to slip his cock into my pussy making me moan loudly.

I try my best to keep the volume down but when he starts rocking his hips slightly allowing for his pubes to tickle my clit theres not much I can do too keep the volume down.

"So good," I gasp when his rocking turns into thrusting. I can feel the brutal speed in which he is taking on my pussy making me want to scream at the extreme pleasure but I do my best to keep my volume down.

"Fuck," I moan loudly when he hits my sweet spot over and over again making my legs start to shake slightly.

"Im gonna cum again," I moan before pulling Lewis's neck down do I can kiss him through my next intense orgams.

Lewis adjusted himself slightly hitting me at a new angle but also starting to play with my clit bringing me over the edge and throwing me into one of the most intense orgasms I have had during a quicky.

"Oh god," I moan giving up on trying to keep my volume down loving the feeling far too much.

It's not long until I feel Lewis shudder above me before pushing deep into my pussy and feeling me up with a large load making me moan at the feeling of Lewis's cum filling me up to the brim.

When Lewis finishes cumming he slowly slips out before grabbing a discarded item of clothing and wiping the both of us down.

Once we are both clean enough Lewis lays back down leaving me in a large Mercedes tee and my panties having no energy left to get up and put my shorts back on.

"That was amazing," I whisper while cuddling into Lewis's chest where I lean up slightly and place a soft kiss on his jaw.

"Felt like a horny teen all over again," Lewis joked making me laugh and shake my head slightly.

"While I much prefer being able to take our time and not having to keep the volume down, I can't lie and say that wasn't one of the best orgasms I've had in a long time," I laugh with Lewis after saying.

"Ya, we can have a lot more of those if you would quit that damn job," Lewis jokes making me shake my head.

"I think about it," I whisper knowing I can't keep allowing myself to walked all over at work.

"If I knew making you cum on my private jet would get you to think about leaving that damn job I would have fucked you every time we stepped foot on here," Lewis joked making me softly hit his chest and shake my head.

"I love you," I whisper before allowing sleep to take over. Before I was completely out I heard Lewish whisper I love you too and place a soft kiss on my forehead where he fell asleep until our "layover" where we would refuel before making our final descent to Austin.

[raysrays]

Crimson Guardian NSFW

Kyojuro Rengoku x Wife! Reader

18+ MDNI!🚫

CW: NSFW Content, minor angst, controlling/manipulating behavior, fluff-ish.

Y/N POV

Scenario : You've recently married into the respected Rengoku family, and while you continue your work as a demon slayer, life starts to get a bit messy. Balancing your duties becomes a real challenge as you navigate the challenges of married life. You find yourself having to make tough choices just to keep your husband happy, all while debating to stay true to yourself and your calling as a demon slayer.

Marriage. Truly one of the most beautiful milestones a couple can achieve. Marrying Kyojuro has undoubtedly been my greatest accomplishment.

I still remember it vividly, as if it were yesterday. Surrounded by friends, family, and core members, we pledged our lives to each other. Though it wasn't the most glamorous wedding ever seen, it was enough. Because really, all I've ever wanted was Kyojuro, and now, finally, I have him.

For the first few months, our marriage was nothing short of perfect. I moved into the Rengoku estate with Kyojuro's family, assisting Shenjuro with chores and gradually trying to get closer to Shinjuro. Though I'm not sure how successful I was.

It was only six months in that I realized being a demon slayer and a wife wasn't as easy as I thought.

Before our relationship, I was Kyojuro's Tsuguko. He was simply my mentor, and I trained hard under him to get myself where I am today. It was later down the road that we noticed each other's lingering gazes, the occasional flirting, and all the other subtle hints of wanting to be more.

Kyojuro was strong, and I knew he wanted a family, but I simply wasn't ready to give up training and my duties as a demon slayer just yet.

Every day, after helping out around the estate, I would hike over to HQ and pick up where I had left off the previous day, training until the late hours of the night. I would often come home exhausted, which usually caused Kyojuro to worry. As much as I reassured him, he never seemed fully convinced.

Now, here I was, sitting at the dinner table with Kyo across from me. It was a rare occasion for us to eat alone together like this. We made small talk about our day and training, and then he finally stopped eating and put his silverware down.

"Little Flame, I think it’s time we have a serious discussion about the way things have been as of late,” his usual happy smile seemed almost nervous.

I set my spoon down on my plate, giving him my full attention.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Sunflower, you have been working so hard as of late, and it’s quite admirable. I truly admire your dedication to the demon slayer corps and your training!”

“But…?” I ask, confused.

“But… since our marriage, I’ve found myself in constant worry over you. Every time you go on a mission without me, I have to painfully wait for your return. Not knowing whether or not you'd be injured or even-“

“Dead?” I finish.

I saw his body tense up at the word.

“Yes, my love. Dead. I cannot even bear the thought of you never returning to me. It pains me to my core,” he seemed so sad, so worried about me.

I know Kyojuro, I know he didn’t mean anything bad by what he was saying. However, I felt almost offended. He too was a slayer, a hashira. I also had to deal with the fear of him returning with serious injuries or even never returning at all.

Did he believe me to be incapable of protecting myself? He was the very one who trained me. Even though I knew Kyojuro was strong, much stronger than me, it just felt like he lacked faith in me.

“You don’t think I’m strong enough anymore? Do you think marriage has made me soft?” I realized I might have come off a little too harsh, but my emotions were getting the best of me.

His expression seemed surprised, but I could tell. While he may not have used those words, that was definitely the gist of it.

I watched him get up from his place at the table and walk over to me. He pulled my chair out from under the table, then grabbed my hands and kneeled down in front of me.

His big, bright eyes were now staring up at me.

“You are one of the strongest people I know, my love. I know how capable you are, but please remember…”

He brought my hands to his lips, kissing them softly.

“You are my wife before you are a demon slayer. I cannot risk sending you off only for you to never return.”

I could practically hear the desperation and love in his voice.

Kyojuro wasn’t someone who would usually discourage anyone from pursuing something they're passionate about. So if he was now, I knew that it’s something he’s been internally battling with for a while.

“What about you? Is it not the same? What about my worry? What if you never come home to me?” I could feel my face start to heat up. Everything he was saying seemed to come from genuine care, but it felt so hypocritical.

“I am a Hashira, my little flame. I have a certain responsibility you do not have to burden yourself with. I shall retire soon, in just a few years. So please…”

There’s no way he’d ask me-

“Please retire your sword, Y/N. Please stay home for me. Please allow my heart to rest easy knowing you'll be here waiting for me whenever I shall return,” his voice was pleading.

I felt so conflicted. I’d worked so hard. All of these years of training to hopefully become a high-ranking swordsman myself. However, at the same time, I never stopped to consider my romantic life and how being married would affect things.

We both sat there in silence for a few moments, and I finally rose up from the chair, pulling him up off his knees along with me.

I looked up at him, reaching my hand up to rest on his cheek.

“Kyojuro, you are the only one I would retire my sword for. So please promise me, promise me you will always come home to me. Until the day you yourself retire.”

“I promise you, Sunflower. As long as I know you are safe and waiting for me, there is no demon that could ever keep me away.”

I felt his hand on my lower back and the other holding up my chin.

We both leaned in, our lips meeting in a tender kiss.

This kiss started so gently, so lovingly at first. As we pulled away for just a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, we realized how long it had been since we really enjoyed each other’s company.

After that, the kiss only grew hotter and more passionate.

Kyojuro swept me off my feet and carried me straight to our shared room at the back of the estate, the most private spot. It seemed fitting for newlyweds, after all.

As he gently laid me back on the soft futon, I couldn't help but stay focused on him. Kyojuro was simply beautiful. His hair, his eyes, his body, everything about him looked like he was perfectly sculpted.

My admiration was interrupted as I felt him begin to kiss me again. One of his hands traveling to my breasts, gently squeezing it.

The other massaging my thigh.

I feel him pull away from me starting to kiss on my neck traveling all the way down to my chest.

Kyojuro had always known my weak points and how to make me say yes to his every request. He knew my body just as well as I did, and now he was taking full advantage of that knowledge.

I could feel him pressing against me as he moved his hand down my body, lightly touching me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me, wanting more.

Then I heard, Kyojuro's soft voice whisper these words, almost as a demand. "Enjoy this little flame, you've kept me waiting far too long.”

As soon as those words left his lips, I felt myself begin to relax. His movements were so gentle, so careful, so loving.

His fingers trailed down my sides, sending chills through my body. His hands went back up and caressed my neck, making me tremble. He kissed me once more, and I melted into him.

It was as if he had cast a spell over me, and all I could do was obey him. He was completely in control of me.

After a moment, I felt him move back down and remove my underwear, revealing my already wet entrance. His hand slid between my thighs, and I couldn't help but let out a moan as his finger slipped inside me. He was gentle at first, just barely grazing me, but it felt incredible.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, his breath hot against my ear.

I nodded but I could tell that wasn’t enough for him.

“Use your words my love.” He demanded sweetly.

“Yes Kyo, it’s perfect.” I said, my voice trembling.

He leaned down and kissed my lips before pulling back again, smiling at me.

"I want to be inside of you," he whispered, his voice filled with desire.

"Please," I begged.

He removed his fingers, replacing them with his cock, his tip rubbing against my clit.

"Good girl," he whispered, thrusting into me.

I threw back my head, arching my back and digging my nails into his shoulders. His movements were slow and deep at first and then they became faster and harder, and soon my whole body began to shake. I couldn't stop the moans from escaping my lips, and I couldn't help but beg for more.

When he starts to speed up I know we are both about to reach our limit.

I feel his fingers interlock with mine and his lips pressing against mine again, but this time, he wasn’t just kissing me, he was also letting his teeth graze my bottom lip.

He was biting down hard enough to draw blood.

We were both so close and we were both trying to hold back but we couldn’t anymore. We were finally going to let ourselves release.

I was the first one to let myself go, arching my back as I moaned his name.

Then he followed not too far behind.

After he finishes, we just lay there for a bit catching our breath.

“I love you, Y/N,” he finally breathed out, turning his head to look at me.

I turned to face him as well. “I love you, Kyojuro.”

After that, the two of us drifted off in each other's arms for the rest of the night.

The next morning when I awoke, I was still trapped wrapped in Kyojuro's arms.

After a bit of struggling, I managed to maneuver my way out and make it to the kitchen.

There I saw Senjuro, who was already preparing breakfast for everyone.

“Good morning, Sen,” I greeted with a yawn.

“Oh, good morning, Y/N!”

“I'm almost finished with breakfast. Is my brother awake yet?”

“He should be awake soon. We both have to see Master Kagaya today,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

He stopped to turn and look at me.

“Did something bad happen?” he asked nervously.

Poor Senjuro always assumes the absolute worst in every situation. Well, I suppose in this case it’s somewhat understandable.

“No, Sen, nothing's wrong. Kyojuro and I are just going to inform Master Kagaya of my retirement. That’s all.”

He gave a puzzled look.

“Retirement? Why? Haven’t you been training for years to improve your sword skills to move up in the ranks?” he asked.

He was right. I know I shouldn’t go back on my word to Kyojuro, but I really was having second thoughts about my decision.

Senjuro could probably sense my doubt because his next response was:

"If this is something that you're not sure of, then you shouldn't do it. If you have doubts about this decision, then maybe you're not ready for retirement just yet."

His words really struck a chord with me.

Maybe he was right.

Before I could ponder that any further, Kyojuro had made his way into the kitchen.

"Good morning! How are my two favorite people doing?" he said cheerfully.

I smiled.

"Morning, Kyo. Did you sleep well?"

"I did, actually. Thank you, little flame," he walked over to me, giving me a kiss.

I could feel my chest tightening, nervous about what was to come.

The whole time at breakfast, I felt so spaced out. All I could hear was Kyojuro and Senjuro talking and the occasional grunt from Shinjuro drinking away at the table.

“Sunflower? Are you okay?”

I was snapped out of my daze by Kyojuro waving a hand in front of my face. All three of them were staring at me, kind of concerned.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

I shook my head a little and looked down at my plate. I felt bad for Senjuro going through all that trouble to cook, but I simply couldn’t eat right now.

After we finished breakfast, Kyojuro and I headed out.

The thought that this would be the last time wearing my uniform with my sword by my side was so weird and almost uncomfortable to me.

I knew that this day would come eventually, but I always hoped in the back of my mind that Kyojuro would be the one to retire before me.

I had been so focused on training and my duties as a demon slayer that it had never even occurred to me how my marriage would affect everything.

I was now a wife. My first priority should be the estate, and helping Shinjuro while he was in his state of grief, and being there for Senjuro as well.

It wouldn’t be right of me to go against my husband's wishes either. Especially after the intimate moment we shared. Right?

As we made it to HQ waiting to speak with the master I felt my heartbeat racing inside of me.

The room was quiet, I could feel Kyojuro’s eyes lingering on me but I couldn’t bring myself to face him right now.

Both mine and Kyojuro’s attention was shifted as we heard the door open and Master Kagaya entered the room.

"Rengoku, Y/N. It's a pleasure to see you both," Kagaya said, his face as warm as ever.

"It's wonderful to see you too, Master," I replied.

"So what brings you two here? It seems urgent, judging by the fact that you came in so early."

"It is very urgent," Kyojuro began.

He then proceeded to explain our conversation from the night before, and how I was considering retiring.

"Y/N, this is a big decision, and it's important that you feel comfortable and confident in it. Do you think you can fully retire, knowing you won't be able to assist the demon slayers as you are now?" Kagaya asked.

I looked at the master and then glanced at Kyojuro. He seemed so proud and happy that we were here. I could feel the warmth radiating from him.

But, I could also sense the worry in his expression. He was nervous, scared almost.

I couldn't do that to him.

"Master, I've spent most of my life training for the opportunity to become a hashira. To serve the demon slayer corps and protect those who cannot protect themselves. But...I'm no longer just a demon slayer. I'm also a wife, and as such, I think it's only right that I focus on that," I answered.

The room fell silent for a moment.

"If you truly feel this is the right choice, then we support you, Y/N," Kagaya finally spoke.

"Thank you, Master," I bowed.

"Thank you so much, Master! I will never

forget your kindness!" Kyojuro bowed as well.

The two of us left the room and started to head out.

As we exited, we ran into a few of the other Hashira, who asked us about what we had gone to see Master Kagaya about.

They too seemed surprised and a little concerned when Kyojuro explained to them that I would be retiring so soon.

I could tell some of their reactions to the news annoyed Kyojuro. Shinobu used the word “controlling,” and you could see his smile almost falter.

"Controlling" was never a word I would have used to describe my husband. He just loves me, right? He wants to protect me. There's no way my sweet and kind Kyo would ever do anything to control or manipulate me.

Right?

Part Two

[cheriecoke]

piece of cake

FEATURING. nanami kento x f!reader — wc: 9.8k

SUMMARY: nanami can't help but notice your strange behavior, and he begins to grow suspicious (aka you throw him a surprise birthday party)

CONTENTS: sorcerer!reader, nanami's bday, husband nanami, reader & nanami povs, gojo being the bestest friend, also everyone loves nanamin!! very very light angst, slight misunderstandings, and ofc nanami being the love of my life. sfw!!!

note: this ended up way longer than i intended! the ending is a bit rushed, but i really wanted to finish it before his birthday ended. i love this sweet man so much :(

Nanami didn’t want to be that kind of man.

He knew that letting his thoughts wander into accusations were a one-way ticket to unfounded miscommunication. It was senseless to even go there; coming up with wild solutions that he couldn’t back up would only cause problems that didn’t need to happen in the first place.

With his whole heart, Nanami trusted you. He loved you, and he had never doubted that you felt the same. Honesty was important, and you were both mature enough to understand that communication was the only way to make a relationship work.

He reminded himself of that whenever his mind was clouded with uncertainty.

There was still a small twinge of doubt that wouldn’t leave him alone, and day after day, it became more and more difficult to convince himself that he wasn’t concerned. Every time he tried to speak with you about your strange behavior, you’d talked him into circles, bringing him right back to the beginning of the question like he’d never asked it at all.

Nanami tried to tell himself he was creating something out of nothing, but for weeks, you’d been coming home late, you were always on the phone, and he would have been an optimist or an idiot if he truly believed you weren’t hiding something.

When he really put his mind to it, he could stop himself from coming to unfathomable conclusions. You’d never given him reason to doubt you, even if your behavior had become suspicious as of late.

What he couldn’t diminish was the deeply buried fear that, maybe, you wanted someone more than him.

The entire mess had started just a month ago, when he’d stumbled into the lounge at the high school, a book tucked under his arm and a coffee in his hand. Lunch hour had just ended.

Nanami visited you at the school often, and at this time, you were almost always training Maki, or switching off a class with another sorcerer. Your schedule rarely deviated, and if you weren’t in the middle of teaching, it was because they’d needed you elsewhere.

So, of course, he was surprised to see you were doing neither of those things. Instead, you were in the lounge with Gojo, talking in hushed voices while you stood strangely close to one another.

Your back was turned towards the door when Nanami entered, and you gesticulated wildly with your hands. Between your speed and the low volume of your voice, Nanami couldn’t catch a word of what you were saying. It was obvious that you were excited, and Gojo leaned up against the back counter with an indulgent smile, placing his fingertips to his chin thoughtfully.

Nanami wasn’t sure whether or not to announce his presence, so he let the door slam shut behind him, breaking up your enigmatic conversation.

You whipped around in surprise, your eyes wide. In a similar manner, Gojo’s head darted up like he had no idea Nanami had entered at all. The scene would’ve been comical if it hadn’t been so unfamiliar.

“Nanamin!” Gojo stumbled around the first syllable of his name before recovering smoothly, smiling that cheeky grin of his. “When did you get in? I thought your assignment wasn’t until later this afternoon?”

As Nanami slid into the room, he glanced between you and Gojo with pinched eyebrows, attempting to ignore his unusually awkward behavior. Gojo slid across the countertop, slowly inching away from you until he hit the edge.

“Kento!” you said, in a voice that was much squeakier than your normal tone as you shattered the silence. “You’re here early.”

Nanami had long since given up on trying to understand Gojo Satoru’s behavior, but you were a different case entirely. Your smile was lopsided and uncomfortable, and you wiped your hands on your sides like you weren’t sure what to do with them.

He couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or glad to see him. His features pinched tighter, and he shook off the nasty voice of mistrust that threatened to cloud his logical mind. “I’ve been asked to take Itadori with me today. Apparently, someone’s been telling the principal that I’m a good influence on him.” He took off his glasses, meeting your eyes pointedly. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

You smiled sheepishly, drawing closer to him like a magnet. As you left Gojo’s side to stand beside Nanami, that sharp coil of irritation within him released. The lines in his forehead smoothed, and everything was just as it should be.

“I had nothing to do with this,” you said with a small shrug, fixing the tie that was already straight, as if looking for a reason to touch him. “What would make you think that?”

Nanami rolled his eyes at you, knowing you’d had everything to do with it, and gave you an exasperated smile.

You released his lapels shortly after to check the time and frowned when you realized how late it had gotten. “I have to go.” You pecked him on the cheek with a grin, and though Gojo was watching from behind the dark blindfold, Nanami couldn’t bring himself to care. “Maki’s meeting me soon, and I don’t want to make her wait. See you later, Kento.”

He squeezed your hand, the action almost imperceptible as you waved to the other man over your shoulder. “Bye, Gojo.”

Gojo returned the action, his lips pulled together playfully as he returned his focus to Nanami. Although he’d seen the two of you together on numerous occasions, his favorite pastime was teasing the younger man about any sign of affection.

Nanami sighed, suspecting that he’d have to tolerate Gojo for the next half-hour until Itadori was back. He took a long sip of coffee that scalded his throat and sat down on the couch.

The silence lasted until Gojo crept unfortunately closer, lurking like a cat until Nanami huffed, the sign of irritation that Gojo had been waiting for. The white-haired man drew out Nanami’s name like a song, and then plopped himself down on the chair across from him, blabbering on about things that Nanami really didn’t want to listen to.

When he realized five minutes had passed without Gojo even taking a breath, he gritted his teeth, and leaned back in the chair. “I didn’t realize you were such good friends with my wife.”

That wasn’t entirely the truth. Nanami had known that you’d gotten closer to Gojo since you’d started working for the school part-time, but you talked about him about as often as you talked about your other colleagues. About as much as Nanami talked about Gojo.

You’d never made it seem like he was the type of person you swapped secrets with in the lounge while everyone else was off on a break.

“Really?” Gojo drew out the word dramatically, his mouth curling into a pout. “I’d say we’re good friends, actually.” He tipped his head back, leaning against the chair with uncharacteristic seriousness. “We mostly talk about you, though. I know you better than I know her.”

“That’s a shame.” Nanami flipped the page, finishing the last bit of his coffee, and feigned irritation, even if he was warmed by the thought of you talking about him so much. “She’s much more interesting than me.”

Gojo laughed, and it seemed to be genuine. Nanami began to grow frightened that he might actually be roped into an actual, amicable conversation with the man.

“Aww,” he cooed sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Nanamin. I know you’re probably worried we’ll become better friends, but you were my friend first.”

Nanami glanced up, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Trust me, I’m really not worried about that.” He kicked his leg out, the beginnings of a headache forming in his temple. “I’m more concerned that she’ll invite you over for dinner. I’d like to refrain from any interactions with you outside of work.”  

Gojo made a face and then whined dramatically. “You’re so mean to me.” He wiped a hand over his eyes like he was shedding tears.  

Nanami sighed.

A few days later, when he took Itadori out for another training session, he began asking Nanami too many questions about his personal life. That fact wasn’t as suspicious as it was frustrating. He couldn’t help that Itadori was curious, but he could’ve asked him these things on the ride over, or while they were at the school.

Invasive questions in the middle of a potential life or death situation were not exactly ones Nanami wanted to tolerate.

“So… what kind of places do you like to shop?”

The question was completely unrelated to his lesson and completely out of the blue. Nanami stopped, eyeing the teenager with undisguised skepticism. “Itadori. I’m not answering that kind of question when we’re in the middle of something serious.” He thought about his words, and quickly rephrased them. “Actually, I’m not answering that question at all.”

Itadori stared back, his face falling theatrically. Nanami could’ve guessed from that expression alone that he’d been spending far too much time with Gojo. “Fine.” He relented, drawing out the word as he scurried to catch up with Nanami, who was already paces ahead.

He let a few minutes pass before his next question.

“Where are your favorite places to eat?”

Nanami closed his eyes to regain his patience. “I’m not answering that either.”

A huff of disappointment. “Well, can I ask about your favorite—”

“No.”

Itadori’s glower turned into something more like a realistic frowny face. Nanami tried to refrain from snapping at him in order to regain his focus. “What can I ask?”

“Anything that you will gain valuable insight from.” Itadori opened his mouth, and Nanami quickly sensed his next words. “Insight that isn’t about me.”

He deflated once more. “Okay, fine.” For a few more moments, he surrendered, letting the conversation stall. Nanami should’ve known better than to expect peace and quiet for long. “So… what days will you be going on assignments? Do you have like… a set schedule, or do you usually get called in?”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, hearing the creak of a floorboard upstairs. There were curses nearby, and if Itadori continued yammering on without paying attention, that would spell a lot of trouble for him and the kid. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I’m just curious.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you now isn’t the time.”

Itadori opened his mouth, but then seemed to register the sound of cursed spirits, and he finally sobered his attention. His expression changed to one of seriousness, and, thankfully, he let the topic go.

After a particularly stressful mission, Nanami went to the bakery that the two of you frequented, the one that had been the site of many of your dates throughout the years.

It was a quiet little café at the edge of the city, a perfect middle-ground between your home and the school. When he’d been working in the office, and you were still a sorcerer, you’d met him there on numerous occasions, usually bruised and battered, but never without a beautiful smile.

He stretched his back behind him as he headed through the door, his clothes dirtied from fighting and his hair in disarray. It was barely afternoon, and he was already exhausted, wanting just to go home and curl in bed to await your return.

It was a small daydream that would carry him through his last few hours of working, so long as no cursed spirits popped up in his vicinity of patrolling. There seemed to be more and more lately, and if he wasn’t being called off to go fight, then you were, leaving no time for either of you to be with each other.

As he crossed the threshold, another man was exiting, seemingly in a big hurry and carrying a coffee that he almost splashed all over Nanami’s chest.  

Reeling in his irritation, Nanami began a polite, “Excuse me,” before realizing who had nearly trampled over him. “Gojo. What are you doing here.”

“What a coincidence seeing you here,” Gojo greeted with a wide grin, like he wasn’t the one infiltrating one of Nanami’s sacred, headache-free spaces.

Nanami cringed, looking at the coffee in Gojo’s hand and the white pastry bag, immediately recognizing the contents. It was your favorite drink, the dessert you got once a week; you’d been ordering the same thing for the past two months, always getting hooked on new things before you eventually tired of them. He knew the order by heart.

“Sorry, I really wish I could stay and chat, but I’ve got important goods to deliver.” He held up the bag and the cup, a receipt folded up between his fingers. Bitterly, Nanami noticed he hadn’t bought anything for himself. For someone with such a sweet tooth, it seemed hard to believe that he’d refrained from indulging.

Which, Nanami concluded with annoyance, meant that he’d come specifically for you. He checked his watch, pushing away the negative emotions. Even though you could’ve called him if you wanted something, like you always did, you’d asked Gojo instead. “She’s not on a break?”

“Some students wanted her help with some things. I told her I didn’t mind getting her something if she wanted to take a break later this afternoon.” Gojo flattened his blindfold over his eyes, the material bunching up around his nose. “Everyone’s out today, anyway.”

“I see,” Nanami said, hating the unnecessary sting in his chest. You knew he’d been working, and even though he told you where he was going, you probably hadn’t seen the message. If you were busy, then he couldn’t expect you to be checking your phone. “Well, tell her I said hello, then.”

“Will do,” Gojo saluted cartoonishly and flitted out the door, smiling with a kind of glee that Nanami, stupidly, wanted to wipe off his face.

Those separate incidents with Gojo had annoyed him, of course, but he knew they weren’t anything to get worked up about. In fact, he’d almost forgotten about the interactions entirely, until another week passed and Nanami slowly started to wonder if you spent more time with the white-haired man than the one you were in a relationship with.

You’d woken up before him that morning, and Nanami opened his eyes to a colder bed and the sound of hushed music softly playing from behind the bathroom door.

It was a cooler day for June. You’d opened the window, and there were dark clouds gathering in the sky, a sign that it was going to storm any time now. He stretched his stiff back, padding to the hallway, where he could see the light coming from the bathroom, the door cracked open. The smell of your perfume wafted through, and Nanami had half a sense to drag you back to the bed and keep you there until the weekend was over.

He pushed the door open further, leaning against the threshold to watch you swipe pink gloss over your puckered lips. Your makeup was freshly powdered, your hair done up in its usual manner.

Nanami smiled, leaning against the door frame as he watched you finish getting ready. “Where are you going this morning, pretty girl?”

You blinked at him through the mirror, putting the tube of lip gloss back in the bag before turning to him with a smile. You looked so sweet, and he yearned for you, almost in disbelief that you’d been together for so long. “I’m taking the kids shopping in the city with Gojo today.” You wrapped your arms around his stomach, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I’ll be home before dinner. Want me to cook tonight?”

Nanami brushed your cheek, feeling that annoying wave of irritation return to claw at him. He didn’t care that you were spending time with Gojo—he shouldn’t care. Your students would be there too, and you’d been happier ever since you started working at the school. The first and second years cared about you so much already, and Gojo was a much less annoying friend to you than he was to Nanami.

He liked seeing you so happy, despite the toll that the job often took on you. “Don’t worry about it. We need to pick up groceries, anyway. I’ll do that while you’re out.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. Although you’d meant for it to be quick, Nanami had wrapped an arm around your lower back, pressing you closer, deepening the kiss. He ruined your lipstick, smearing it all over his mouth, but he didn’t care.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered against your mouth, holding you close to him.

“I’m still in my pajamas.” You laughed, your cheeks growing warm as you drew away from him, teasingly dodging his final kiss. “Are you sure you won’t miss me too much when I’m gone?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ll probably miss you too much.” As you fixed your lipstick, Nanami went back to the bedroom, rifling through his coat pocket for his wallet. He tossed the gold card on the bathroom counter, where your purse was laying.

You eyed him over your shoulder. “No.”

He stared back, just as seriously. “Yes. Buy yourself something nice, sweetheart.” He thought of the young teenager he’d been mentoring, who’d been putting in his best effort, and who he’d, unfortunately, come to care about quite a lot. “Itadori too. Just don’t tell him it’s from me.”

You blinked, before your expression changed into something so bright, Nanami would’ve done everything in his power to keep it there. “I knew you liked him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With an affection so full that it threatened to burst out of your chest, you jumped towards him, wrapping yourself up in his arms. He kissed your temple and breathed, remembering just how much he didn’t want to lose you.

You were true to your word, always. You came back when you promised, you told him where you were going, but Nanami noticed that you’d been even more secretive since you went shopping with Gojo and your students. When he asked your plans, you were even more vague. When you didn’t return with any shopping bags, he found it odd that you smelled of a cologne he didn’t wear.

He reminded himself of how much he trusted you—he really, really didn’t think you would lie to him, but he couldn’t deny that your behavior was confusing him.

Nanami finished off his tea, eyes across the room as he watched you type wildly on your phone, your brows crinkled. You sent a message then waited for a response, impatiently pacing across the kitchen.

He called your name, but you didn’t respond, too enraptured in whatever it was that you were doing. You seemed to be attached to your cell phone these days, always having a call to respond to, and always jumping when he was a little too close to seeing your messages.

Yesterday, Gojo’s name had popped up on your screen with a message, and you’d crawled across Nanami’s lap to get the phone before he could even think to hand it to you. Nanami had done nothing but stare back at you, and you’d smiled at him, embarrassed, still hiding the screen from him as you read the message.

He really, really didn’t want to jump to conclusions. But these days, you were spending all your free time with Gojo, and you grew defensive every time he tried to bring it up.  

“Are you done with the tea?” Nanami asked again, piling up the dirty dishes from where he sat, noticing your cup was still half-full, but lukewarm.

You chewed your thumbnail anxiously, bouncing your leg as you waited for the person on the other end to reply. The phone shook in your hands, and you read through it again, obviously disappointed by the short response. He could’ve guessed who you were talking to, even if he didn’t want to.

Nanami frowned and called your name one more time. Finally, you looked up.

“What?” you asked, and then came to understand his question. The tea sat, unenjoyed, and shame marred your features. “Oh. I’m sorry. No, I’m not finished.” You frowned, tucking the phone back into your pocket before rushing over to your seat. “I didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, and Nanami stared, waiting for you to finish your explanation, even though you let it die there. “It’s been busy at work.”

Nanami hated how easily he could tell you were lying. He sighed, rubbing his temples as your phone rang again. This time, though, you kept it in your pocket.

It had been like that for the past couple of days. He closed his eyes, trying to come up with any possible explanation other than the most distressing one.

“Kento?” you asked in a small voice, noting his obvious discontent. “Is everything alright?”

He looked up at you, your eyes so wide and full of concern, and even if he wanted to be mad at you, he couldn’t. His chin fell, arms resting limply at his sides as you looked back at him, waiting for a response. “Is everything alright with you?”

“I’m okay,” you said, shifting where you stood. “Just busy. Like I said.”

The two of you stared at each other, waiting for the other to say what they really wanted to. Never once in your life had you had a problem with communicating, but it felt like now, you were hitting a wall.

All he could do was try his best. If you didn’t want to answer him, he couldn’t make you.

“Okay,” he said, taking your hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and kissed your palm, then the inside of your wrist, before massaging the center of it. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to keep secrets from me. If anything…” he steadied himself for his next words. “If anything changes between us, you can tell me. I’ll understand.”

Your eyebrows creased, before understanding seemed to dawn upon you. “Kento,” you said, dropping his hand to come around the table to climb into his lap, placing your hands on both of his cheeks. “Kento, no.”

“You’ve just been a bit—”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and he couldn’t help but draw back into you, smile when you kissed him all over his face, pressing the affirmations into his skin. “I’m not trying to be distant, really. Things are just busy right now, I promise.” You curled your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and Nanami brought his arms around your hips, settling you on his thighs.

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure.” His eyes softened at your frown, and he brushed his thumb under your shirt, grounding himself against your skin. “I love you.”

That put a smile back on your face, and you kissed him, whispering the same words against his lips.

Now, though he wasn’t so sure he believed what you were saying, as much as he wanted to. Maybe you were just busy at work, but you were certainly hiding something from him.

He knew that everyone had their secrets, but maybe it would’ve stung less if you’d just admitted you were hiding something from him.

The following week was the same routine, and as the workdays ended, Nanami saw you less and less each evening. You spent the majority of your time in the city center, and though you were often with your students, you were also with Gojo, and something about that fact was difficult to swallow.

Nanami felt a little sour that you never asked him to go too. He began to wonder if you were purposefully avoiding him, or if the students disliked him as much as he’d thought they did.

It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, and he didn’t want to be overbearing, to seem like he was the kind of man who wanted to control where you were going and spending your time with. He just wished you spared a little bit more of it for him, was all.  

He woke with that thought in his mind as he rolled over on the cold bed, reaching out to wrap his arms around you. When he realized the spot beside him was empty, he blinked himself awake wearily, adjusting his eyes to the dark.

The hall light was on, a yellow glow peeking through the cracks under the door, and he frowned as he heard the sound of your voice, low and hushed.

Nanami weighed his decision. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, and though you often went to bed much later than him, a phone call at this time was pushing it. He climbed out of the bed, padding quietly over the door to see if he could catch a part of the conversation.

It felt like a breach of trust, and he didn’t want to seem like he was spying on you.

He pressed his ear to the door, waiting for your voice, though it was silent. Half a minute passed. His hands curled around the knob, and he shouldn’t be trying to listen in, he should just go out there and ask you if anything was wrong, and then���

“Gojo, I don’t know what to tell him.”

Nanami stopped, swallowing down his breath to still all noises from his body. He squeezed his fist tighter until his knuckles had gone pale, hearing you murmur under your breath. There were a lot of words he couldn’t catch, and he wrinkled his forehead, trying to catch a hint of context in what you were saying.

“I’m not very good at lying to him, and if he finds out—”

Your voice dropped quiet again.

Nanami felt something fall in his chest as he released the doorknob. He was too tired to think about it rationally, and if he listened anymore, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

He stepped away from the door, his lips etched permanently into a frown.

After Kento had fallen asleep, you’d grabbed your phone off the nightstand, going through the to-do list that you’d created for his birthday.

You hadn’t meant for it to get so out-of-hand. He didn’t usually like big celebrations, and he’d never made a big deal of his birthday in the past. Though in your eyes, that was exactly why you needed to do something different for him this year.

Things had been going so well, and from what you could tell, everyone in your close circle cared about him more than he realized. It was the only way you could think to show that to him.

You’d just wanted to do something special for him, and it had turned into long shopping trips with Satoru Gojo, and secretive meetings with your students to make sure everything went exactly as you’d planned it.

And things were going according to plan… Only, you were starting to feel like your attempts at secrecy were sabotaging your relationship, and you feared that Kento thought the worst of your late nights out and your newly formed friendship with Gojo.

It was obvious that you were lying, and every time he brought it up, he seemed to become even more doubtful of your actions.

You flipped the hallway light on, dialing Gojo’s number, feeling antsy in your own skin. After two rings, he answered, his voice groggy and obviously full of sleep.

“Hello?”

“Gojo,” you said in a panic, rubbing your hand over your face with a kind of distress that he couldn’t even see. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

A beat of silence as he gathered his thoughts. “What?”

You almost felt bad for waking him up, but part of this was his fault. He’d been insistent on being a part of the plan, and now, he needed to listen to your apprehensions about the entire situation. He hadn’t exactly been sneaky either.  

“Kento.” you said, pacing back and forth in the hallway, your voice rising to a high-pitched shriek, even as you tried to muffle your words. “He’s been asking me so many questions, and I’m so bad at coming up with answers. I’m seeming like a horrible person.”

Gojo hummed on the other line, and you hated how nonchalant he seemed about all of this. This was your relationship, and he was just sitting happily in his home, with the receipt for a cake that had cost way too much, and gifts for a man that had started to doubt you even cared about him at all. “Well…”

“Gojo,” you said his name again, sternly.

“Sorry.” He sighed. “Nanami’s a tough person to keep a secret from. Just keep telling him what you’ve been telling him: we’ve been assigned to more cases together, work is too busy, et cetera, et cetera. That’s fine.”

“But he knows that’s not true.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, frustration prickling at you. Either Kento was much too perceptive for his own good, or you were just awful at planning surprises. “I’m being too suspicious. I’m not very good at lying to him, and if he finds out, then all the secrecy would have been for nothing.”

Gojo was silent on the other end of the other line. It seemed he was absolutely horrible at consoling you, unlike the man in the other room who was sleeping soundly, unbeknownst to the fact that you were doing this all for him. “Look, it’s only for a couple more days, right? You can keep the secret until then, can’t you?”

You swallowed, steeling yourself for one last week of misery. You weren’t sure you could continue to stand the look of disappointment on Kento’s face every time you did something out of character. “I guess so. Thanks.” You yawned, rubbing your eyes. “Sorry, I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry about it. Goodnight.” He hung up, and you stared at the phone once more, trudging back into the other room.

You couldn’t help the guilt that had settled deep in your gut. Even if you were lying to Kento for something special, you knew how it looked on your end. You weren’t good at dispelling his accusations; every time you opened your mouth, you just incriminated yourself more.

You couldn’t wait until his birthday. Things would go back to normal, then, and he could finally see that everyone cared about him more deeply than he realized.

Rubbing your eyes with exhaustion, you crawled back into the space where you always slept. Although, this time, you realized Kento was not asleep like you’d left him but was blinking back at you with concern in his dark eyes.

You jumped, startled for a moment, before settling back down. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“It’s okay.” He grasped your hand tightly, and you let him, let him drag you close in his arms as he curled around you. “Is something wrong?”

You tensed, and immediately realized that was a mistake. Fuck. You were so horrible at this. You should’ve just let Gojo and Itadori plan the entire thing, and maybe it would’ve been a disaster, but it also would’ve saved you a lot of unnecessary anxiety. “Everything’s fine.”

That didn’t exactly answer his question. Nanami turned on his side, the two of you staring face to face on the pillows. There was a wrinkle between his eyebrows, his eyes darting to each one of yours like he was trying to decipher a message. Then, he sighed. “Was… someone calling?”

“Just Gojo.”

“Gojo?” Nanami repeated, and though he seemed annoyed at the mention of him, at least he knew you were being honest about that. “Why the hell is Gojo calling you in the middle of the night?”

You blinked, realizing you actually had no good lie to cover that one. “Umm…” you played with Nanami’s hand, tracing the tendons and knuckles as he stared back at you patiently. “He wanted to know if I could cover for him in the morning. He’s… not feeling so well.”

You’d have to text him immediately so that he didn’t come to the school until later. Not that he would mind skipping out on a few hours of work, but even that didn’t seem to convince Kento. He opened his mouth, and shut it, as if trying to carefully put his words together. “That’s all?”

He said it in a way that made you think he was giving you an opening, like you had the option to tell him the truth if you wanted. Of course, you couldn’t reveal what you were hiding, but he didn’t know that.

You sighed, and smiled, kissing him as you curled your hands into his hair. “That’s all, Ken. I really am sorry I woke you up.”

Nanami stared back at you for a moment before forcing a smile, returning your kiss with all his fondness. He brushed your hair away from your face and kissed your cheeks before closing his eyes once more.

When the day of Nanami’s birthday arrived, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t panic if everything wasn’t perfect. He’d appreciate the sentiment, no matter what. Things didn’t have to go by the book for them to be meaningful.

Regardless, you went through your mental to-do sheet, made the final reservation for your dinner, and prayed that everything went as you intended.

Though you were usually not a morning person, you’d gotten up earlier than Kento to fix his coffee the way he always preferred, taking a quiet moment to still your excited nerves. When his usual alarm went off, at the same time every morning, you carried the mug back with you to the bedroom and smiled softly at his sleepy form.

You set the coffee down before he could fully gain consciousness, and sprang on top of him, peppering kisses all over his face until his surprise slowly melted, and he was hugging you tightly.

“Happy birthday.”

Kento smiled up at you groggily, his eyes still drooping with sleep as he curled a hand around your jaw. He pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, hugging you tight as he whispered, “thank you,” the touch of the words barely there at all.

You relaxed in his presence, sitting back as you handed him the coffee, to which his expression grew even more gentle. He brushed your hair out of your face and kissed you again on the forehead, making you melt, just as he always did.

“What do you want to do today?” you asked as you laid on his chest, staring up at him with every ounce of love you had to offer. “I have dinner reservations, but you’ve got all day until then.”

Nanami laughed, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. “It doesn’t matter. We can just spend it like any normal day.”

You frowned. “That’s not anything special. It’s your birthday.”

“It’s just a birthday.” He squeezed your arm before maneuvering you gently off of him so that he could sit up on the bed. “Besides, every moment I spend with you is special. I’m happy to just sit around and do nothing until dinner.” Kento seemed to notice your displeased expression, even though your heart had swelled at his comment. “Unless there was something you wanted to do instead…”  

He climbed out of the bed, taking one sip of the steaming coffee before setting it back down.

“It’s not my birthday.” You watched him gather his clothes up off the floor with a sigh, the muscles in his back clenching as he bent over. “I want to do what you want to do.”

“And I told you I didn’t care.” He smiled playfully at you, tugging his shirt on over his head. Then, he reached over and squeezed your hand, coming back to where you sat, your legs swung over the side of the mattress.

“Kento.” You pulled him back down with a pointed expression, your faces close, lips almost touching. “I’m serious.”

He stared back at you for a moment, before relenting. “Alright.” Kento bent down, kissing you once more before going into the bathroom. “Let me shower, and we’ll go get some breakfast. How does that sound?”

“Is that what you want to do?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

Although you could tell he was amused by your insistence, he softened, his eyes melting into hearts as he turned. “That’s what I want to do. Happy?”

“Very.” You shoved him away, laughing. “Go take a shower. You’re not getting any younger.”

He rolled his eyes and retreated into the bathroom, the door shutting softly behind him.

When the water started running and Kento was definitely in the shower, you hurriedly dialed Gojo’s number, begging him to pick up. After the third dial, when you were certain he wouldn’t answer, a short tone cut through the line.

“What’s wrong?” he answered, clearly amused. There was shuffling on the other end, and some sort of yelp. Your brows pinched together.

As you listened closely to make sure the shower water wouldn’t turn off unexpectedly, you frowned. Your leg shook with anticipation. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Gojo released a breath, though his voice grew mumbled on the other end. “Well, you normally only call me if you’re panicking about the birthday situation, so—”

There was a scream. You dragged your hand down your face, as he said something sharply to someone on the other side of the call.

“Gojo?”

“Yeah?” Another sound, this one of extreme pain. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of something.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re exorcising a curse right now.”

He paused, and then the sound stopped, everything going silent on his side. “Well… I’m not anymore.”

You wanted to say that you were shocked he’d bothered to pick up the phone at all, but… You weren’t, really. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Unfortunately, cursed spirits don’t know it’s Nanamin’s birthday, so they just keep coming.” He sighed. “What a bummer. If they were nicer, I’d invite them to the birthday party.”

You snorted. “Right. I’m certain Kento would love that.”

Gojo laughed. “So, what were you calling about? If it’s to panic over your much too long list of things for me to do, don’t worry. Everything’s in order.”

“Really? Did you wrap the presents?”

He hummed. “Megumi did.”

You closed your eyes, holding back a sigh. That was probably for the best, anyway. You’d never seen Gojo wrap a gift, but you weren’t sure how it’d look if he did. “Okay… What about the decorations?”

“Itadori is bringing those over once you two leave.”

A part of you wanted to get frustrated with him for doing absolutely nothing, but it wasn’t his fault he had to work, even if he’d promised to help you out. At least he was delegating the tasks. One way or another, it would get done. “Are you going to help him at all?”

“Have a little bit more faith in me than that. You’re hurting my feelings.”

“No I’m not. Did you get him a birthday card?”

“I think Maki offered to do that. And before you ask your next question, yes everyone’s going to be there on time. Kugisaki followed up with everyone.”

“Oh my god… Did you do anything, Satoru?”

“I picked up the cake.” A beat of silence. “Well, I haven’t yet. I’m going right now. I got a little side-tracked.”

He’d given you no reason to doubt him, really. But you were still afraid that something would go wrong, and you’d be left without a cake, in the middle of a very important birthday. “Fine, but just know that I’m texting Megumi in an hour to come check on you. I can only keep Kento out of the house for so long, so you need to make sure it’s perfect.”

“You got it, boss. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

Once you’d sent Gojo the final list of things that needed to be done, you put your phone away, promising yourself that it would not be a point of stress while you were at dinner with Nanami. You’d reserved a table at his favorite restaurant and dressed up nicer than you had in a while.

After breakfast, the two of you meandered around the city for the rest of the day until your reservation, as you tried to think of anything that could keep him away from home. Worried that he would catch on, you continued to diffuse his concerns, kissing him with a smile as you pulled him along to the next place you could think of.

And though he’d protested, saying that you didn’t have to dedicate your entire day to him, you couldn’t think of another way that you’d want to be spending it.

When the evening started to fall, you made your way to the restaurant, and the phone buzzed in your bag. You gritted your teeth and ignored it.

“Are you sure we don’t need to go home?” Kento asked you, swinging your hand in his between the two of you. Neither of you had ever been big on public displays of affection, but holding hands through the streets was one of the nicest feelings you’d come to experience. “We have time.”

“No,” you said a little too quickly, and he eyed you curiously, almost stopping in his tracks. “We better get there early, just in case. Don’t you think?”

Kento raised an eyebrow, but then nodded, squeezing your hand. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to be early.” He smiled, humming to himself happily. “You know, you didn’t have to do all of this for me today.”

“I wanted to. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.” You laughed, but for some reason, there was uncertainty behind his eyes. You felt the phone buzzing more and more in your pocket.

The restaurant was packed, and even though you were early to your reservation, they got you seated immediately.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart. Did I already tell you that?” Nanami said once you were seated.

You flushed, your cheeks growing warm as he stared at you across the table with gentle, brown eyes. “Thanks, Kento,” you said in a quiet voice, knowing that you’d looked much better earlier, when your hair had been perfect, and your makeup hadn’t smudged. Your dress now had some wrinkles, and you were sweating with nerves and the heat outside.

He glanced down at the menu, perusing it, even though he got the same thing every time. You ordered a bottle of wine to split between the two of you.

The server brought the alcohol back and poured it, then took your order back to the kitchen. When Nanami ordered, you dropped your chin in your hands, watching him, distracted by the very sight of him.

He nodded at the younger girl politely, and she grew pink, scurrying off to the next room. Kento looked back at you as you laughed and started up another conversation. You talked about school and work and everything in between, the mood only shattering when you felt the incessant buzz of the phone in your pocket.

You were in the middle of a story, but your sentences started to blend together into something that didn’t make sense. You stumbled over what you were saying, feeling the weight of the phone in your pocket as you tried to refocus on your words, but remained distracted.

The phone buzzed again in your pocket. You gritted your teeth. Fucking Gojo Satoru and his idiotic brain—you’d told him not to contact you.

“Is everything alright?” Kento blinked as you took your phone out and set it in your purse.  

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter.”

He hesitated, thoughtful as he swallowed a sip of wine. “Well, I don’t want you to get in any trouble if it’s work.”

“I took off today. If they can’t handle two sorcerers being gone, then they’ve got bigger problems.”

Nanami sighed, drumming his fingers against the table. “I guess that’s true. Speaking of work, I—"  

The phone buzzed louder, then there was a pause. It buzzed again. You cringed.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, but—”

The phone started ringing.

You were close to throwing the bag altogether, and probably would’ve, if it hadn’t been one of the most expensive accessories you owned. Nanami looked down at the bag, then back at you, eyebrows raised.

“Honey…” he said, eyes gesturing to the phone. “Just answer it.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, and you dug your phone out of the bag, Megumi Fushiguro’s name was bold as it lit up on the screen. You held it tightly in your hand and began to stand, feeling sick and horrible and wondering if all the secrecy had just ruined his birthday. “I’m so sorry Kento—"

He shrugged; his voice was solid with gentle patience. “It’s alright. Take your time.”

You nodded, and waited until you were out of earshot to answer the phone, feeling horrible about leaving him all by himself. Once you were in the bathroom, locked in one of the stalls, you answered. “Hello?”

“Itadori dropped the cake.”

You took a breath before answering Megumi’s calm remark, wondering how close you actually were to snapping. “What.”

In the background, the pink-haired boy wailed over and over, loud cries that were, clearly, full of remorse. “It was an accident!” He shouted over Kugisaki’s berating, and you weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry, because that was the last thing you’d expected to happen.

“Itadori dropped the cake,” Megumi repeated, flatly, like you hadn’t gotten it the first time. “It’s all over the floor. Kugisaki’s trying to get him to clean it up, but it’s just making him even more miserable.”

You covered a hand over your mouth, wondering why your eyes were welling up with frustrated tears. Things were not going the way you’d planned. “Is Gojo there yet?”

“Yeah.” Megumi hesitated, and there was a pause, like he was unsure what to do now that he finally had you on the phone. “Want me to put him on?”

You nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see you, and muttered, “yes.” Within a moment, the older man, currently in charge of three teenagers, was on the line.

“This may or may not be Gojo,” he said, and you were glad that he at least had enough intelligence to sound nervous.

“Satoru.” You tried hard not to panic. “Please, please can you try and find another cake? I know it’s late, but I’m not sure how much longer I can stall here. I’m trying so hard not to be suspicious, but I’m horrible at it.”

“I can try, but—"

“Kento already thinks I’m acting weird, and he keeps asking me questions that I’m doing a very bad job of answering. I feel awful because it’s his birthday, and I’m afraid he thinks I’m just getting ready to split up with him or something.”

“Ouch.” Gojo said dramatically, hissing like he’d been stung. “That’d be a bit of an asshole move, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, I’m obviously not going to do that!” You scrubbed your hands over your face. “He seemed upset today, and I just don’t want all of this to go to waste. Please, Satoru. It doesn’t matter what the cake looks like, but just make sure that you get something, so that—"

“Hey,” he said, dropping the theatrics when you choked back a sob. His tone grew serious. “Take a deep breath. I think you’re forgetting who we’re dealing with here.”

“What do you mean?” You blinked, dabbing your eyes, hoping that your mascara wouldn’t smear.

“Nanami is going to appreciate the gestures, even if they aren’t perfect.”

You inhaled and exhaled, realizing that Satoru was right. Out there was a man that you loved very much, who loved you in return, and this was not as serious as you were making it out to be. “You’re right.”

“Obviously. Enjoy your dinner. I can take care of it.”

“Are you sure? It sounds like a warzone in the background.”

“Everything’s fine,” Gojo swore, even if you didn’t entirely believe him. “I told Megumi not to call you, but he loves getting me in trouble. Please, don’t worry about it.”

You opened your mouth, but Gojo had already hung up.

As you left the stall, you sighed, seeing yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red with unshed tears, but you’d already made Kento wait long enough.

Twitching nervously, you headed back to the table. Nanami was sitting patiently, scrolling through something mindlessly on his phone.

“Everything okay?” he asked as you sat back down, noticing the signs of tears and misery. He reached for you across the table, but then thought better of it, and just frowned.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just really sorry, Kento.” You looked down at your hands. “I didn’t mean to be so rude. It’s your birthday. I want you to enjoy it.”

A beat of silence passed. He smiled. “I am enjoying it.” He did reach for your hand, then, and pulled it tight against his own. “This has been the best birthday, sweetheart. Why are you upset?”

You swallowed. “I’m not upset.” You shook your head, trying to clear the unhappiness from your expression. “Anyways, what were you saying? I interrupted.”

Nanami’s face fell. You’d changed the subject so quickly; he hadn’t had the chance to ask you any more questions. “Right. Well, nothing important. I just have to be in Kyoto next week.”

You frowned. “All week?”

He nodded. “I wanted to let you know in case you wanted to make plans. You’ve been...” he paused, thinking over his words. “Seeing Gojo a lot lately, so I thought you might want to—”

You stared at him, and realized what he was getting at. Fuck, you felt so horrible. “Oh,” you said, scratching your wrist under the table. “Yeah. Maybe. I’m sure he’ll be busy too.”

That wasn’t the answer Nanami was looking for. He stopped, and then regrouped, nodding. “Well, either way, I wanted you to know. They didn’t give me advanced notice.”

You smiled tightly. “I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s only for a few days,” he said, releasing your hand to place it back onto his lap. “But I’m going to miss you too.” There was something distant in his voice when he said it.

On the way home from the restaurant, Gojo texted you obnoxiously, sending you pictures of the house, the cleanliness of it, the set-up of the gifts, the new cake, and you smiled to yourself, somewhat relieved that things weren’t a complete disaster.

You could feel Kento’s eyes on you as he drove home, his hand resting on your thigh as you turned slightly away from him, keeping his eyes off the screen.

Stop sending me things before he sees my phone.

Gojo’s response was much too quick.

Stop looking at your phone.

You sighed, clicking the screen off and finally relaxing against the window. The secrecy was almost over; you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to keep this all hidden without causing so much dramatic suspicion.

Nanami pulled into park in front of your home, squeezing your leg gently before releasing it. You expected him to make a move to get out of the car, but instead he sat, contemplative, the key still in the ignition.

You swallowed, looking at him. “Is everything okay?”

He took a breath, turning back to you with some sort of determination in his eyes. “Have I done something to upset you?” he asked, his voice so incredibly gentle.

“What?” you said, laughing nervously. “Why would you ask that?”

His face fell as he looked back at the steering wheel. “I just thought this would be easier if I’d hurt you in some way.”

Your mouth grew dry. You reached for him. “Kento—”

“Look,” he scrubbed a hand through his hair, the strands coming loose, falling onto his forehead. “I’m not trying to… I don’t want to…” His words fell off, and though you knew what he was trying to say, you didn’t want him to say it, because there was no reason for it. “If something’s wrong, I just want to know. Let’s at least try to fix it.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise.” You squeezed his hand, trying to pull away from him. “Can we talk about this inside?” You started to get out of the car.

“No, wait.” He stopped you again, eyes wide with disappointment, like he couldn’t get his words out fast enough. “This is what happens every time. I ask you about it, then you find a way to spin my words around so that we never talk about it. I let you every time, because I love you, and I trust you, but I don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart squeezed. “Kento.” You began, feeling bad that you were forced to talk in circles just to get him to believe in your lies. “I promise, we’ll talk about it inside. It’s still your birthday, and I don’t want to ruin it by misunderstanding one another. Please, let’s talk about it once we’re both settled in.”

Nanami’s shoulders stiffened, then deflated, but he didn’t let go of you. “There’s not… Someone else, is there?”

“Of course not.” You said fervently, kissing his hand. “God, Ken. You think I’d want anyone else when I’ve got you?”

He smiled, though it was half-hearted.

“Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll explain everything. I owe you that much.”

You led him into the house, holding his hand tightly, hoping that this went over as you intended. Beside you, he was still contemplative, flicking on the lights as you continued into your home.

“You know, I really think we should still—”

As the lights came on, his words were cut off by some variation of everyone yelling happy birthday, and he blinked back at the students he’d recently met, and all the sorcerers he’d worked with closely in the previous years. His jaw opened, then shut, then he looked at you, then back to Gojo, and you could see the understanding in his features before he’d expressed it, when everything clicked into place.

A moment of silence passed where Nanami said nothing, and then Itadori decided to fill that silence with very off-key singing, and Kento’s cheeks dusted light pink, barely visible in the light, as he squeezed your hand tighter.

Everyone made the rounds, greeting him with varying levels of enthusiasm, while Nanami just thanked them with quiet politeness, even though you could see that he was secretly pleased, his lips curling up into a smile, the signs of stress dissipating from his features.

Itadori approached with a poorly wrapped gift and a hug that Nanami didn’t quite return, but he didn’t push away, either.

Nanami took the gift, holding it with soft eyes like he’d been given something precious. “Thank you, Yuuji. This is very kind.”

“You’re welcome.” Itadori said back proudly, smiling smugly at his two friends over his shoulder, obviously proud that he’d gotten such praise. “It’s probably going to be the best gift you’ll get tonight.”

You could see Nanami trying to refrain from laughing, but he snorted instead. “Is this why you were asking me about all those things that I liked a few weeks ago?”

“Uhh…” Yuuji smiled sheepishly, rubbing a hand on his neck. “No! Not really. But… Maybe.” He sighed. “I’d thought you’d forget about that.”

Kento’s eyes crinkled at the corner, and he squeezed Itadori’s shoulder, clearly touched.

You kissed his cheek and left him alone to talk with everyone that came to visit, going to thank Gojo and the students that had helped you over the past few weeks.

An hour passed before you found Kento again, after the cake had been cut and Gojo had insisted he opened one of the many gifts he’d gotten him.

He was standing in the kitchen, staring at a pile of wrapped gifts and the sliced cake that wasn’t exactly what you’d intended, but had received the same reaction, nonetheless.

“Kento?” you said quietly, and though you could tell that he was appreciative of everyone, you still weren’t sure how the surprise had gone over. He turned to you, his sleeves rolled up, a few more strands of blond hair coming loose. His cheeks were flushed, eyes soft. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been lying—”

Kento was to you in two long strides, backing you into a wall before kissing you deeply. Your hands curled into his hair, and you hummed into his mouth with a smile as his hands rested on your hips.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispered against your mouth. “I should be the one saying sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to ridiculous conclusions.”

You laughed, kissing him again and again, feeling things finally ease back into normalcy. “I know how it looked—” He looked away, embarrassed that he’d even thought of the possibility that you would leave him for Gojo. “I’m sorry I was so suspicious.” You sighed, leaning back in his arms as you held his cheeks with both hands. “Were you surprised?”

“I wish I wasn’t. It was pretty obvious now that I think back on it.”

“But…”

“But, yes,” he said, kissing your forehead as you preened, proud that it had all pulled together in the end. “I was surprised.” He gave you one last kiss, whispering, “thank you” and “I love you” on your lips.

From behind the door, you heard shuffling, and opened your eyes to see Gojo snapping a picture, to which Nanami groaned, pushing himself away from you reluctantly.

Gojo grinned, “Sorry. I’ll let myself out. Didn’t realize you two lovebirds were in here,” he said, even though he most certainly did.

“Please do,” Nanami gestured in the direction of the front door. “I hate the fact that you even know where I live.”

Gojo’s face fell. “After everything I did for your birthday, and you’re still going to pretend you don’t like me?”

“I don’t.” Nanami sighed, before swallowing down whatever antagonist words he really wanted to say. “But thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

Gojo beamed—you intervened before he could even think to throw his arms around Kento.

[raya-hunter01]

I have never requested a story before so here goes 🙈 could you write about yn had a baby with Roman or Jey. They haven't had s3x in 2 months and Roman or Jey are getting frustrated so yn asks her parents to mind the baby for the weekend so she can make it up to him 🙈🫣

Alone Time

One-Shot

Roman Reigns x Skylar

Warning: Smut and fluff!

Roman and Skylar are on cloud nine after their son is born...The only problem is now they are on month four of no sex and the sexual frustration is mounting.

This was requested a long time ago by lilmizzlou35 sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoy it.

“Trin I didn’t stutter and stop looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“So, you mean to tell me that you and Roman ain’t had sex since Jackson was born?” “Will you keep it down before they hear you,” I hissed looking around the corner at the guys who were playing spades in the living room. “Damn, I’m sorry, but are you serious right now?”

“Yes, I’m serious….Four months, no sex but we’ve done oral,” I whined as she looked at me still in shock.

“So, you’ve been cleared for two months to have sex but ya’ll ain’t had none!” Trin exclaimed as I blushed praying nobody was ease dropping on our conversation.

“I am tired Trin, I’ve been trying to get Jackson on a schedule. Roman goes back in a month and I’m horny.”

“Have ya’ll tried when the baby is sleeping?” Trin asked as I scoffed.

“Girl, it’s like Jackson has sex radar, oral is good but as soon as we are close to the deed he cries,” I said looking at our son who didn’t have a care in the world as he stuck his tiny fist in his mouth, happily babbling.

“Oh man, I know Roman is about to nut up…. No pun intended. Maybe if ya’ll skip the foreplay and just go for it you’ll have more luck,” Trin whispered as I cleared my throat seeing Roman heading our way.

“Ladies, ya’ll good?” he asked, giving me a chaste kiss on the lips before taking Jackson out of my arms.

“Yea, baby we’re fine. I told you earlier I had Jackson, I know you wanted to hang out with the guys.”

“No, you need a break Skyler, now you and Trin go by the pool and chill. I got the baby.”

“Roman, it’s ok I was about to feed him and try to get him to take a nap,” I said kissing his tiny head as he sneezed.

“Bless you lil man,” Trin smiled as he sneezed again. “I hope he’s not getting sick.”

“Baby, Dr. Morris said it’s his allergies. He’s fine, I’ll feed him. Now gon’ watch the sunset and get a little swim in,” Roman said leaving no room for argument as I gave him a kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, baby,” I whispered as he growled. “You’re welcome, just remember tonight, your mine,” he groaned as Trin blushed leaving us alone. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

I wished I had my husband’s positive outlook, but I knew we would probably end up how we did almost every night and that was with Jackson in the bed with us.

 I also knew even though we both were sexually frustrated, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

-----

Later that Night

Roman’s POV

“Damn, swallow dat dick,” I hissed gripping the back of Skylar’s head as she moaned, the vibration of her mouth around my dick. Damn, what that mouth can’t do, I’m already bout to nut.

Those bedroom eyes staring up innocently at me as she sped up her beautiful torture as I growled feeling my end near. “Mm, not yet,” I moaned as she smiled releasing me as I fought to catch my breath. “What you need Daddy?” she whispered trailing her tongue from my pelvis to my neck as I wrapped my arms around her.

Fuck, she was on it tonight.

“I need to cum in my pussy, it’s been too long Sky,” I rasped, our moans of pleasure filled the room as she rubs up against my dick. “Yes, and I want you so bad,” she purred as our lips met in a sloppy desperate kiss.

Yes, there is a God, and he loves me. Tonight is the motherfuckin’ night I reclaim my wife and I can’t wait, etching every second to memory.

Her delicate hands caressing my dick, as she slightly raised her hips. Her trembling her body following suit as she bit her lower lip, anxiously rubbed the head of my dick against her pussy.

 That hearty, needy groan that escaped her lips, as the tip slid through her slick moist folds had me feenin’.

“Fuck yea, pussy so wet Daddy just gon’ slip right on in. Go ahead and put it in baby,” I groaned anxiously trying not to lose control.

Then just as we were about to become one again, our son’s powerful wails could be heard on the baby monitor as we both sighed in frustration.

“This can’t be happening,” I whispered as Skylar caressed my face. “I got him, baby,” Skylar panted as I nodded, sitting up, sighing at the loss of her body against mine as she slipped on her robe and left the room.

“Damn son, I couldn’t even get the tip in…..Lil cockblocker,” I muttered instantly feeling like the biggest heel ever as I listened to Skylar on the baby monitor.

“Hey, lil man you hungry, mama’s got you. Let’s change you first,” she soothed as I found myself smiling hearing Jackson’s little coos. Getting out of bed I slipped on my pajama bottoms and went to join them in the nursery.

We were sufficient in setting up Jackson’s room with a bottle warmer and a mini fridge to keep Skylar’s breast milk in at night so we wouldn’t have to worry about going downstairs.

“I’ll get the bottle,” I said almost startling her as she smiled at me.

“Thanks, I’m going to miss all this help when you go back to work.”

“I’mma miss it too, but we’re going to make it work. I don’t care if we have to be on facetime all night.”

Skylar’s POV

I loved moments like this, just us being with our son and bonding. “You want daddy to feed you, Jackson?” I asked as he stretched his little arms and yawned.

“Come on buddy, let’s eat so we can go back to bed,” Roman said sitting down as I placed Jackson in his arms. I swear women across the world would melt if they could see this moment.

His voice soothing, and deep, as Jackson seemed entranced his father’s voice. It was like they were in their own little world.

“Yea, daddy’s got you son,” Roman whispered as I smiled.

“You’re a great dad,” I said as Roman shot me a tired smile before continuing to talk to Jackson.

“You know I got your mama too, which is why I am sending her to bed.”

“Roman, I’m fine,” I yawned as he chuckled. “See how she yawin’..She needs some rest, so we gon’ have us a little father, son time and send her to bed,” he said pointing towards our room. His eyes never leaving Jackson’s who seemed to be cooing in agreement.

“Roman-”

“Go to bed baby, I got him,” he reassured me as I sighed heading back to our room, but not before sneaking a second glance at my beautiful family.

I had a wonderful life that I knew I would never take for granted…Ever.

----

The next Day

“What did you say mama?” I asked not sure I heard her right.

“I said ya’ll doing it wrong Sklyar, I ain’t stutter,” my mother scolded holding Jackson as I poured her a cup of coffee.

“I suggested they drop the foreplay and go for the gusto mama,” Trin added as I rolled my eyes.

“I’m desperate ya’ll, I mean we just get so consumed with each other, and then boom! Jackson is screaming his head off, he even ended up in the room with us last night,” I said slamming the refrigerator door.

“Oouu sexual frustration has officially sunk in,” Trin whispered as I looked at her in confusion.

“Huh.”

“Morning, beautiful,” Roman said coming in the kitchen as I smiled at him. The pure hunger in his eyes as he pulled me into his arms not only made me weak in the knees but had me seconds away from dropping to my knees to worship him in front of Trin, Jackson, and my mother.

Our lips suddenly met in a demanding kiss. It was like we were the only two people in the room until I faintly heard my mother clearing her throat as Roman nipped at my bottom lip.

“Mm, later,” I whispered against his lips as he nodded finally releasing me from his grasp.

“Damn, I felt like I was intruding. That was really hot,” Trin said as I blushed.

“Sorry, I got carried away Ma, good morning,” Roman said coming over and giving my mom a hug and Jackson a kiss on the top of his head. “I guess I’m just invisible,” Trin teased as Roman chuckled, rushing over to hug her. “Sorry sis, good morning.”

“Yea…uh huh,” Trin joked as I snickered.

“You know I love you sis, don’t be like that,” Roman chuckled as she smiled. “I’m just teasin’ you…I get a kick out of it actually,” she said as he rolled his eyes.

“Ro, you got anything planned today?” I asked, trying to change the subject as he thought for a second. “I’m meeting the twins in a bit at the gym, then I’m free,” he said as I saw my mother smile.

“Well have fun baby,” I said as he smiled looking around reading the room.

“Ok, uh, I guess I will go shower and leave ya’ll to it. I know when I ain’t wanted,” he said nervously leaving the room as my mother laughed.

“Damn, he got outta dodge.”

“Hey, he can be dense at times, but I take pride in the fact I taught him how to read a room.”

“Don’t do my brother like that,” Trin laughed as I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’m serious, so tell me what ya’ll are thinking?” I asked truly curious because at this rate I’m about to have drive-by sex with my husband while they are here at this point.

“As new parents, it’s going to take some time to adjust Skylar. Like I told you to sleep when the baby sleeps, the same thing applies to sex. Get it in while you can.”

“Ma! Really...”

“What! I’m serious, get it in whenever and wherever you can. You are no longer on married with no kids time. You are on each second counts time and by the way he tongued you down just now, he’s reached his breaking point baby.”

“I almost just saw my first in person porno just now,” Trin said causing me to choke on my orange juice. “Oh, stop it, we weren’t that bad,” I said as my mother smiled.

“Sweetie, you gotta use your help too. That is what grandparents are for. I know I’ve been asking to keep the baby, and I know Roman’s parents have wanted to keep Jackson.”

“We didn’t want to burden ya’ll.”

“We love Jackson and want a chance to spoil him. Let us spoil him, that’s what grandparents do. We spoil them and then send them back home for ya’ll to deal with it,” my mother said shrugging her shoulders as I found it hard to not smile.

“Girl, you better let them be grandparents. Ya’ll need a break, and Jackson will enjoy it.”

“I know but-”

“It’s that new parents separation anxiety,” my mother said as I sighed knowing she was right. I was scared and so was Roman.

“Go pack my baby a bag, he’s staying the night with me and your dad tonight.”

“Mama, I-”

“Mama nothing, you both tired and need to get some rest. Go out to dinner, or just fuck like jackrabbits until I bring him back tomorrow morning it’s up to ya’ll.” 

“Mama!” Geez did she have to be so blunt. Like what kind of parent am I wanting to send my baby away so his daddy can fuck me into another galaxy.

“Stop overthinking it, you’re a great mom and Roman is a great dad.  Now finish your breakfast so you can go pack my baby a bag. I have a feeling you’re gonna need your strength,” she said looking in the direction Roman had went as I blushed.

“Yes, ma’am,” I whispered playing with my food. Everything would be ok. I know my mom will take good care of Jackson but it’s just going to be weird being without him.

I was brought out of my thoughts by Trin tapping me on the arm as my mother got up to fix her another cup of coffee.

“Girl, ya’ll first round gon be quick cause it’s been so long for since ya’ll have had sex.  After that…Ooou, I pitty you, cause it ain’t gon’ be no sleepin’ up in this house. Maybe Ma can keep Jackson an extra day 'cause I know you gon’ have problems walking tomorrow," Trin whispered so my mother couldn’t hear.

“Roman is never quick,” I whispered as she smirked. “I bet you today he will be, but don’t worry it ain’t gon take you long to get there either,” she snickered as I frowned.

“You so fuckin’ messy.”

“That’s why you love me so much, I keep it real.”

Roman’s POV

“You heard me, it’s been four months and I’m losing my shit.”

“Damn, no wonder you been heavy lifting in the gym lately. Sky been cleared for action but it ain’t been none,” Jimmy said as I rolled my eyes. “Shut the fuck up, I’m already frustrated enough,” I said talking to the twins on Facetime.

“Ya’ll gon’ have to learn to get that shit in Uce,” Jey said as frowned at him.

“What you talkin’ bout?”

“I’m talkin bout quickies, gettin’ it in everywhere, whether it’s the bed, bathroom, car, backstage, door, wall. Shit, it’s on site whenever you can, ain’t she on da shot?” Jey asked as I nodded.

“Man, get yo’ pussy, and I mean by any means necessary,” Jimmy said as Skylar stuck her head in the bedroom.

“Babe, mama wants to take Jackson for the night so we can get some rest. Are you ok with it?”

I was too stunned to speak; I mean is this really happening? “Answer her fool, why you just standin’ there lookin’ stupid,” Jimmy said as Sky leaned over into the camera.

 “Hey twins….Where have ya’ been?” Skylar sang waving to Jimmy and Jey.

“Hey Boosie!” they yelled waving as she smiled.

“So, what you think Roman?” Skylar asked again as I looked back at the twins who gave me a look. “Uh, sure we need to start letting Jackson go and spend time with his grandparents. We know he’s in good hands.”

“Ok, I just wanted to run it by you before I just did it,” Skylar said blowing me a kiss and leaving the room.

“Uce, we already know you ain’t making it to the gym. Gone handle yo’ business,” Jey said as Jimmy shook his head.

“Poor Boosie ain’t gon’ know what hit her.”

“Shut up Jimmy and get off the damn phone so we can head to the gym.”

“A’ight twins, I’ll hit ya’ll back tomorrow.” Ending the call, I felt nervous…Why am I nervous?

I was nervous about Jackson being away from us, but I knew deep down he would be fine. We needed this…Mama and daddy need some alone time to rest and to just be Roman and Skylar again.

Skylar’s POV

I felt a piece of my heart leave as they pulled out of the driveway. I missed Jackson already, but Trin and mom reassured me and that put me at ease.

He would be ok, but it was still scary. Sighing, I closed the door. “He will be fine Sky, relax,” I whispered to myself, turning and colliding with Roman’s naked body as I gasped in shock.

“Ba-”

The words dying on my lips as our lips meet in a demanding passionate kiss. “Can’t wait,” Roman groans against my lips, clawing at my robe as I racked my nails down his back. “I can’t either,” I moan anxiously as he scoops me up in his arms.

“Mm, bed,” I gasp as he growls. “Right here…Fuck, right now,” he moans entering me swiftly catching me off guard as I cried out at the sudden intrusion.

I felt like he was splitting me in two as he growled against my neck. "I'm sorry baby," he moans stilling his hips tryin' to give me a second to adjust as I slowly began swirling my hips against him.

“Mmm, I missed you,” I cried against his lips as he hissed. “Missed you more, fuck, you so tight.”

I could sense the struggle in him to not lose control, but I wanted him to.

Remembering Trin’s words, I decided to assure him it was ok. “Stop holding back, I want you to cum Daddy, you deserve it,” I whispered

“Fuck…… I don’t want to, not yet,” he rasped as I locked my legs around him beginning to bounce as Roman held me close.

“We got all night, just cum baby,” I whispered in his ear as my words seemed to ignite a fire in him as he gripped my legs, pinning me against the wall beginning to thrust with wild abandon.

“Shit! Yes, take your pussy daddy!” I screamed, my orgasm sneaking up on me as Roman grasped my throat, taking me in a scorching kiss

“Mmm, I am and I’mma make sure my queen cums first,” he groaned carrying me over to the couch.

I could only explain it as pure excitement following through my veins as I pulled Roman closer, our bodies becoming even more entangled as we gave in to our desires.

Our desperate, passionate kisses, making lightheaded as his thrusts became even more strategic. The power of them startling us both as we fell back onto the couch.

“Roman!” I exclaimed at the new deeper position as he smirked in victory against my lips. “Uh huh, acknowledge daddy, baby. I’mma  make you feel real good.”

“Ooouu fuck!” I gasped unable to think, my mind straight gone.

 “Sky, give daddy what he wants, let me hear you,” he gloated slamming into me as my cries filled the room.

“Mmhm, I acknowledge you, Daddy,” I whined clawing at his ass pulling him in even deeper. “Fuck yea… Such a good girl, just takin’ all daddy’s dick.”

“Yes! Mmm, I missed you so much!” I cried unashamed as my pussy welcomed him, gripping him tighter and tighter trying to indeed snatch his soul.

“Fuck!” Roman hissed as I felt him tremble against me as I greedily feasted upon his neck, leaving my mark.

“Mmhm, I missed you more. Yea…. Grip dat dick like you missed it.”

 His voice…His words.. Shit, if I could give this man another baby right fucking now, I would.

“Roman, please,” I begged knowing the end was near, I couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Take it like a good girl, mama.”

“I’m your good girl!” I cried out in pleasure. “So fuckin good, gon’ cum, Sky. Daddy wants you to soak his dick and this couch, you hear me?”

The request sending chills down my spine as I fell over the edge needing no more encouragement.

“I’m cummin’!” I cried as Roman tried to still my hips. “Sky…Shit,” Roman rasped as I pulsed around him forcing him to accept his fate and with a final growl, he fell over the edge releasing four months of frustration as I welcomed him.

Shit, that was intense as hell.  “I love you so much;” I moaned trying to catch my breath as Roman smiled, his eyes still glazed over.

“I love you too, and I’mma make it up to you,” Roman whispered gently grazing his lips across mine as I sighed.

“What are you sorry for baby?” I gasped as his lips were now burning a blazing hot trail across my neck. “You felt so good, I came too quick but I’mma take my time this go round,” he whispered caressing my thighs, wrapping them back around his waist.

“Roman, it’s ok.. Trust me, I was thoroughly satisfied.”  I said, trying to put his mind at ease as we continued to come down from our high.

 “Sky, you know how I get down; my beautiful wife has to cum at least three times before I do,” he declared still feasting upon my neck as I gasped feeling him getting hard again.

“Roman! Already,” I moaned, immediately surrendering to him once again as he began thrusting, torturous slow and deep inside me.

“Mmhm, cause my baby needs to cum at least three more times before we take a cat nap.” His voice was raspy and deep against my ear as a shiver shot down my spine.

“Three!”

“Mmhm, the first time didn’t count, and I’m just getting started,” he whispered as we began climbing the mountain of ecstasy once again.

Yea….Maybe I will call Ma, and ask her to keep Jackson for an extra night.

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[vaokses]

I worked the blade to make it deeper

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Nearly two years have gone by since you left with your mother for Dragonstone, and yet your absence is as sharp as the first day. Rumors spread through King's Landing about how a Tyrell knight has captured your heart, and these rumors haunt Aegon, from the Keep to the taverns, leading him, drunk and reckless, to a brothel in the Street of Silk. Not in search of comfort, or in search of some illusion of you to keep him company through the night, but in search of something else.

Word Count: 4.4k 

Warnings: 18+. Smut (slight). Prostitution. Dubious consent. Drunkenness, alcohol consumption. Voyeurism. Self-harming or self-destructive actions/thoughts. Aegon's head is not in a good place at all. Descriptions/Allusions to panic attacks. A lot of angst, just a lot of it. Hurt and no comfort. Allusions to bad BDSM practices. I write this with sub!Aegon in mind, by the way, I don't know how explicit it is in this work, but it's there, and I'm warning you in case it's not your cup of tea. If I missed any warning tags, I apologize, and please let me know.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Same universe as How long this love can hold its breath and the Pirtir series. This takes place nearly a year before the beginning of the story, around four or so months before the other Aegon PoV chapter. You don't need to read either to read this tho.

A/N: So, I couldn't get this idea out of my head. It mixes some of book!Aegon's approach to intimacy/sex because I find it really interesting. This is just a lot of angst, but his character is so fucking sad, I can't help myself. I'll write some fluff for him at some point, I promise.

Title is from "Love opened a mortal wound. In agony, I worked the blade to make it deeper." by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz.

All of this would be easier if he could just forget, Aegon gathers. If he could just forget about you, about what he lost and what he didn’t have, then everything would be easier. The quiet of the Keep wouldn’t feel so deafening, the future ahead of him would be a tad less unbearable. 

And he wouldn’t be sneaking around like an idiot, eavesdropping on his mother and his grandsire’s conversation because he heard your name. 

“That boy will hand the Blacks the Reach if we do not step in,” Alicent argues, voice laden with worry. “His father is old, and he hasn’t inherited his judiciousness, his restraint.” 

“Lord Alisdair might still bend, once the Princess leaves Highgarden and his blood cools. Nothing makes a man as bold as a woman’s smile.” 

“Her smile, or the promise of her hand?” 

Aegon feels as if a weight had been dropped on his chest, and yet he does not even think about tearing himself away from here, about ceasing in his listening for any news of you. The closest he can get to you, nowadays. 

“No arrangements have been made yet, and if t-…” 

“My lord husband will approve if Rhaenyra asks this of him, you know this. He will wed her granddaughter to the Tyrell boy himself if it is her who asks.” 

“Has she asked?”  

A few beats of silence, the seconds before an executioner’s sword finds a neck. 

“It is a matter of time.” 

___ 

It is as natural as breathing, to Aegon, to escape the confines of the Red Keep by now, to evade his guards and sneak into the city.  

Now he sits alone -he shrunk from his usual company, he isn’t sure even why-,  nursing yet another jug of mead and chasing languidly for the welcome stupor of a stiff drink, and finds that not even here do you stop tormenting him. 

“My sister was there for the tourney in Highgarden,” A woman comments, carelessly loud as she speaks to the group of people sitting with her, a table away from Aegon’s. “She said the eldest of House Redwyne gifted the Princess a mare.” 

“As dragon food?” The man she sits on the lap of asks, prompting her to laugh. 

“I would like a mare as a gift,” One of the girls argues, at another’s scoff arguing, “What? What is wrong with that?” 

“The Princess rides Vermithor. What is a fucking horse against the second largest dragon in the world?” 

The wench that is sent to refill Aegon’s drink presses against him unnecessarily, and her hand traces over his shoulders as she moves away. He feels her gaze on him, watching raptly to see if he follows her with his own gaze, if he wishes to play along. 

He mislikes this, these games, playing pretend at seduction. It feels even more false than it already is, fucking a woman, if she likes pretending she wants something beyond the tenuous oblivion they can find in one another. 

“You gather she’s coming here anytime soon?” The man from the other table asks, diverting his attention to them -to you- once again. 

“I don’t think so. Everyone would be scurrying about in preparation. Whenever there’s something brewing up in the Keep we have more work months ahead.” 

“I hear she’ll summer in Highgarden.” One of the younger girls comments. 

The old woman’s laughter is shrill, grating. Gloating, almost. At least that is what it sounds like, to him. 

“Of course she is. Alasdair Tyrell has returned from the Shield Islands, and victorious at that. Made them swear to her cause, apparently.” 

“To Rhaenyra’s?” 

“No.” 

Silence follows the simple answer. Aegon motions for the wench to refill his drink, which she doesn’t do quickly enough. 

“Oh,” The man breathes. Short little chuckles escape his chest, and he praises, “Clever lad, eh?” 

“‘Tis quite a wedding gift, is it not?” 

Aegon takes fast, perhaps hurried, gulps from the flagon, but the mead isn’t enough to drown out their voices. 

“So she has agreed to it?” 

“She is a young girl, and he a knight who has more than proven his devotion. He doesn’t have her hand yet, but I’d bet he has her heart.” 

“So it isn’t just Vermithor she wants to ride,” The man boasts, followed by what sounds like a slap. “Ow!” 

“‘Tis the future Queen you speak of, you fool.” 

He should stop himself, but he doesn’t want to. Aegon turns to them and asks,  

“And the future wife of Lord Tyrell, no?” 

“My Prince.” One -or a few, he doesn’t really care- of them greets, and a few heads bow, but he motions their empty platitudes away. 

“It is a…a joyous thing, a betrothal. And one made for love, at that,” He smiles at them, but they don’t smile back. They look at him like he’s seen hunters look at cornered beasts, they look at him as if they’re afraid of him. “We don’t see much of those nowadays, do we?” 

“No, my Prince.” The older man agrees, still cautious. 

He isn’t an idiot, he knows that he wasn’t…that you don’t feel for him what he does for you, that you don’t think about him as often as he thinks about you. But some part of him, foolish and perhaps more than a little masochistic, still hoped the truth might be another. 

Still hoped, against hope, against reason, that you might one day return, that you might still choose him. 

“A cause for celebration then, isn’t it?” He asks, standing up and swaying slightly on his feet. Their faces are guarded, careful, and though he makes his best attempt at another smile, shameless and debauched, it seems they see through it. He pushes on, “Drinks for all! On me!” 

He plays along, he plays his part, for a while. The mead keeps flowing, and when it ceases, he switches to wine. Watered down and tasteless, but it washes away the ashes the memory of you leaves on his tongue. 

And the loud voices and cheers of the people in the tavern drown out even his thoughts for a while, but he finds that tonight the wine does not make his thoughts any easier to bear. It seems instead to make them louder, to make the ache deep in his chest sharper, worse. 

As the night goes on, his thoughts get louder and the crowd around him quieter as they return to their homes, and Aegon refuses to return to the quiet, the solitude, of the Red Keep. 

___ 

Long ago, years ago, he would come to places such as this and ask them to be soft with him, to hold him and treat him gently, to be what he imagined you would be -what he glimpsed at, what he had, for however short a while it was-, to grant him what he supposed he might have had, were you to have stayed. 

But he understood fairly quickly that it just made everything worse, that it made the absence much sharper, the emptiness gnaw at him with renewed strength; and so he started refusing them whenever they tried to offer anything gentle. They did it wrong, anyways, it just made him feel brittle and cold and alone, and he prefers the distance, and the oblivion it provides, over the hollowness that their false warmth leaves him with. 

The months and then the years went by, and you never returned, not even a glimpse of you and Vermithor on the distant skies, not even a short visit with your family, not even a fucking letter; and Aegon can no longer hold on to the fantasy that you might have wanted him, that you could have loved him. 

He gathers that it was for the better, that the illusion has shattered. It makes it easier, to find oblivion buried in some whore or another, to have his nights away from the Keep be the reprieve they ought to be. It makes it easier to make things quiet again, to lose himself when he can force his useless heart out of the way.  

But he often trips on it. His heart, that is. 

And sometimes his yearning overpowers his reason, and he finds himself searching for a shadow of you, a version of you that still wants him. Despite the ache and the absence, he still can’t bring himself to ask any of the women to pretend to care for him, to pretend to love him, anymore. 

He tells himself it is enough that they look like you when the lights are dim and wine clouds his senses, that they don’t say anything when it is your name he calls out. He tells himself it is enough to have this, and that to ask for more would be to ask to be torn open. 

But the absence remains, the hollowness remains, a void gnawing away at him, hungrier and hungrier the longer he indulges in foolish illusions, in tricks of the light.  

At his weakest, he asks them to prove to him what he already knows to be true. That you, fantasy or real, illusion or not, do not care for him, do not love him. That you, upon knowing what he has made out of himself, aware of what they will ask him to become, have come to hate him. So he asks them to hurt him, to refuse him, to turn away from him.  

He doesn’t understand why he does it, why he still chases after that when it leaves him just as empty as asking for anything else does. He doesn’t understand the part of him that finds comfort in his own ruin. 

He doesn’t understand why he comes here, why he is restless as he crosses the doors into the familiar brothel, why he feels his throat close up at the sounds and scents of this place, why his chest feels tight with something between desperation and dread as he sets out to…to do what it takes to make his thoughts stop, to make himself understand that he must forget. 

He finds the one he’s looking for fairly easily, long silver hair and deep red dress amidst a sea of heads of dark hair and half-naked bodies. Her back is turned to him, and the wine makes the sight resemble a familiar dream for a moment, and his breath catches. 

But when he reaches her and she turns to face him, the face isn’t a familiar one, the eyes are wrong, and the smile is a mockery of yours. 

He still extends a hand, wordless, to ask her to join him. 

It’s almost funny, that for all he despises his ancestry, what he has inherited; in the eyes of any of the patrons of this establishment he is but another Targaryen man, looking to get it wet only with the ones that, real or no, reflect the blood of a lost world. 

It is preferrable that they don’t know any better. He’d rather be his father’s son than the fool that yearns for a woman he cannot have. 

Aegon isn’t sure why he’s doing this, why he has come here, why tonight the wine has made the pain only sharper, more unbearable. He isn’t sure if he’s punishing himself, for being as stupid as to allow himself to hope you’d return to him; or if he’s just resigning himself to the truth that is, forcing himself to shatter with his own hands, before his very eyes, the fantasy of what could have been. 

But he wants this, he…he needs this.  

“And you,” He calls out, pointing to a well-built young man with warm eyes and chestnut hair. Quite close to a knight. Quite close to a Tyrell, even. Aegon offers him a smile, wide and lecherous. It is a lie, but it is one he himself believes, and the false merriment keeps him safe. “You will join us.” 

The man takes Aegon’s free hand, and he lets them lead him to a private room, of dim lights and of air heavy with incense. In the midst of the hanging curtains, the many candles, and the huge bed in the center of it all, Aegon feels for a moment as if he’s suffocating. 

“What can we do for you, my Prince?” The woman asks, voice low, sultry, dripping with false sweetness. 

A nauseating blend of anxiousness and dread rise within him, and though he reaches for the glass of wine on a nearby table, downing the drink in two gulps in an attempt to chase these feelings away, they linger. 

Aegon watches, numbly, as the man reaches for a pitcher and refills his cup without a word. It is welcome, almost a comfort, the weight of a full glass in his hand. 

“I…I want to watch,” Aegon admits, voice hoarse in what he absently hopes they confuse with lust. “The two of you. I want to watch the two of you.” 

There’s a chair near the bed but far enough, aimed towards it. He has the absent thought of how many must come here not for participation but for a show, and Aegon tries clinging to that small observation, amuse himself to thoughts of what others come to do in these places; but his mind, anticipating and yet dreading what is to come, lingers on the present. 

His gaze, unfocused and staring at nothing but the faint memories he wishes would leave him, cannot look at them as the man and woman undress and sit together in bed, looking at him.  

He cannot look at them, and yet he feels their gazes on him. He feels as if he were the one naked, the one on display, asked to put up a show. 

“My Prince?” The woman calls out, forcing his eyes to focus on her. 

She awaits instruction, and he finds he can’t give it. 

It is a painful reality, a mortifying truth, that he does not know how to offer softness, gentleness. Or how to receive it. Or how to witness it, even. 

In losing you, he gathers he also lost the part of him that knew of the softness of a gentle touch, that knew how not to shatter at the thought of warmth. 

And now he can’t even make this…this pretender, already a poor mimicry of you, portray your warmth, the gentleness of your affection; and Aegon cannot even witness a glimpse of the warmth and the softness that you surely now give freely to that fool on the far end of the world. 

It dawns on him then, that he has forgotten pieces of you, that he has lost part of you to time and to distance. And realization isn’t a weight dropped on his chest, or the ground giving in under his feet, no; realization is a slow pressure, a shrinking tunnel, an exhale that left him too late to realize he wouldn’t be able to inhale again. 

He grabs for the cup with shaking fingers, grips it so tight he fears it might crack, and downs the rest of the drink. But the numbness is escaping him, slipping like sand between his fingers, and the haziness has given way to something much worse, to a quickly-beating heart and thoughts chasing themselves in circles. 

And all the wine does now is make him feel as if he’s only further drowning, further losing whatever grasp he has at himself. He still drinks. 

What can he tell her? That he wishes to be hurt, punished, for his weakness, for his faults? That he wishes to see what he has lost, what he never had, what he never will have?  

That he wants for the thoughts to stop, for the pain to stop, and he only knows how to escape them with this, with sex; but the memory of you lingers too close, a knife wedged next to his heart, for him to even consider enduring another’s touch tonight? 

He tells her the truth instead, and if instead of a command it sounds like an accusation, he does not care. 

“You love him.”  

It is all the instruction he can give. He does not know what love looks like, what love feels like, so even if she doesn’t either and the act is a poor one, Aegon won’t know the difference. 

The man and woman fall easily into the parts they must play, pressing their bodies together and sharing a deep kiss, letting their hands explore each other slowly, with the pace of two people with all the time in the world, with the calm of those who have promised each other a lifetime. Aegon watches, and the nakedness of their bodies does not seem lewd, instead it betrays an intimacy, a warmth, that makes the void in his chest awaken with an oppressive sort of longing. 

Aegon’s gaze lingers on him, on the ‘knight’. He finds he cannot look away, and it isn’t jealousy that overwhelms him, or anger; instead, all that fills his him at the sight is dread, and morbid fascination.  

The man’s fingers are buried within her, his lips at her throat, and Aegon feels as if a knife were slowly embedded somewhere within his chest. With each breath, the knife digs deeper, tears further at an old wound, and yet he doesn’t look away. Instead, his breath quickens. 

And he knows it’s an act, that they’re playing at sharing a love they do not know or have, but he doesn’t know it or have it either, and sitting here he only feels more alone.  

But he cannot join them. Because you do not want him. 

After what he isn’t sure if it is a moment or an eternity, darkened gazes flicker to him, awaiting his permission, his command, to go on, with quickened breaths. Though for a moment Aegon finds himself staring back, unmoored and uncertain, he quickly recovers and stutters a response to go on with it. 

The man grunts a curse against her breasts as he enters her in one swift motion, and she sighs at the feeling, hoarse little moan rumbling past her lips as she adjusts to having him inside her. 

They start moving together, and though the sight before him is an objectively alluring one, and if nothing else he should be able to focus on the sounds leaving their lips, on the sound and scent of sex filling the room, Aegon finds himself not even slightly aroused. 

Then again, he didn’t expect to. He might enjoy pain sometimes, and perhaps even seek it, but seeing a mirror -however muddied, however imperfect- of the woman he loves making love to someone else is something out of a nightmare, not something he might enjoy stroking his cock to.  

He didn’t think it’d hurt like this, though. He feels useless tears stinging at his eyes, and his breath hitches, because he expected it to hurt, but he didn’t think it’d torture him like this. 

And yet he can’t bring himself to stop them, feels undeserving of intruding upon their -your-, however false, love. With a breathed little laugh that only further blurs the lines between the reality of two paid whores acting out what he wants and the mirages of two people on the far end of the world, the woman switches their positions, straddling him. 

Unprompted, the man sits up, mouths at her neck as she aligns his cock with her cunt again. Slowly, sensually, she starts riding him. 

Aegon sniffles, tries hiding a stuttered breath, and leans forward. What he means to sound like an order, like an instruction, is voiced instead as a plea,  

“H-…I want you to hold him, while…while you ride him. Hold him against you.” 

She does as he commands, and the sight of their embrace is enough to force Aegon to look away, flinch away from pain as sharp as a hit. He reaches for the pitcher of wine, movements hurried and jittery, and pours himself another glass, uncaring that it spills. 

He gives another order, another command. One after another. He tells the man, for he is naught but a lucky fool that doesn’t even see the fortune bestowed upon him, how to touch you, how to make you feel good, how to make you his.  

They lose themselves in each other, waiting for no further instruction, exchanging caresses and kisses and breathed moans as they move together, as one. 

Aegon feels his composure, weak and brittle as it was already, begin to crumble. His hands grip at the armrests of the chair and tears burn at his eyes. He’s trembling, but neither of them stop, because neither of you notice, because you have each other, and he does not matter. 

He shakes his head, tries thinking clearly past the daze of alcohol and grief, and reminds himself it’s them. They’re strangers, they’re pretenders. He clings to that reminder. 

And yet each whispered word that they share, each shared breath, each tender touch, it feels as if it’s mocking him, taunting him with what he cannot have, what he can only watch from afar. 

The effect of the wine and the tears spilling from his eyes blur the edges of his vision, making the already stifling room seem smaller, the air thicker. Each breath feels pulled from his lungs, his body at the command of someone else, because he still cannot look away. 

He understands better than ever why Helaena presses her palms to her ears when the crowds get too loud. He wants nothing more than to cover his ears, close his eyes, hide himself and get away. Why is he here, why is he doing this? 

He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want this to happen. And yet he can’t stop watching, why can’t he stop this? 

She’s close to the edge, he can tell, and while he needs for this to be over, he cannot stand the thought of it at the same time. 

It is unbearable, and he stands from that chair, not to approach them but to step away. The room spins around him, his balance fails him, his voice fails him. 

She clings to him, hides her face in the knight’s neck and away from Aegon’s view. She looks like you, and she sounds like you, and he lost you he lost you he lost you. 

“Tell him you love him.” The voice is his, but not really, and he hears it from far away, from somewhere beyond the panicked cadence of his breaths, from a dream in which it is your love for him that Aegon asks to hear. 

You bring your knight closer to you, hand tangling in short tresses of chestnut hair. Your mouth is close to his ear, your voice a breath, a promise Aegon knows he shouldn’t be allowed to hear,  

“I love you.” 

You shatter, and so does Aegon. 

Her cry of pleasure and the knight’s mask the horrified sob that leaves Aegon’s chest at what he has done, at what he has tainted; and in their shared ecstasy they thankfully do not see him squeeze his eyes shut and cravenly look away, face crumpled in agony. 

He stumbles back onto the chair, some absent voice in the back of his mind reminding him it is unfitting of a prince to fall on the ground, that the people cannot see him on his knees. 

He thought he’d be in control, that if he commanded them, if he was… 

His thoughts matter not, what he expected matters not. The fantasy, painful as it was, has shattered, and the jagged pieces of it dig into him like glass. 

Aegon slumps in the chair, his body exhausted and worn. He feels used, wretched, and despite the weariness consuming his very bones, his mind remains restless, agitated. 

And the silence that lingers after they are done is worse, almost. He cannot bear to look at them.

“You…you can leave,” He tells them. A breath, two, and with a rush of energy he doesn’t have, Aegon stands up instead. The movement feels uneven, exaggerated, and he grabs at the back of the chair to keep himself from falling over. With his free hand, he gestures at them to stay where they are, and corrects himself, “I-I will leave. I’m…I’m the one intruding, am I not?” 

They don’t laugh, so he does. Or he tries to, but what leaves him is this manic little sound, this choked sob. 

He moves to leave the room, but he stumbles over his own feet, and thankfully catches himself on a nearby pillar. He needs to get out. 

Everything is too much, too bright, too loud, too painful, and he cannot escape it. In his head still resonates the breathed I love you. 

Why would you say that to him? He…he’s nothing, he doesn’t… 

No, no. Aegon squeezes his eyes shut and reminds himself that it wasn’t you, it was her. The impostor, that…that poor mimicry of you.  

And he instructed her to say that. Why did he do that? 

He wanted to fill the emptiness inside him, to…to quieten it all for a few moments, he didn’t want…he didn’t want this. But the void within him grows, and it hungers, and it tears away at pieces of him, breath by breath. 

He stumbles out of the pleasure house on trembling legs, but doesn’t make it far before his labored breaths become too quick, too uneven. The air that enters his lungs hurriedly, stutteringly, over and over, still isn’t enough for him to breathe. 

Aegon staggers into a nearby alley, clawing desperately at the brick wall in an attempt to keep himself grounded, to keep himself from breaking, from falling. 

He still does, between labored breaths and memories that taste of ash, he crumbles under the weight of his disgust and his hatred at himself, at what he does, at what he failed to do; and falls onto the cold ground. 

Back against the wall of the empty alley, Aegon brings his knees to his chest, and hugs them close to himself, head bowed and eyes shut tight as he tries forgetting.  

I would love to hear your thoughts on this! My askbox is always open for questions or comments, and soon I think I'll be taking requests.

I should have waited to post this (I posted the first chapter of Pirtir today) but I couldn't help myself. This was so fun to write. I find these themes really interesting, and I want to delve into them again in the future. I have some stuff planned but they're still a bit further ahead in the posting schedule.

Thank you for reading!

[mikuni14]

Our Youth - Ep 5

I love it when Japan makes this twist in the middle of the series and changes POV, showing the previous story from the perspective of another person, blowing viewers minds in the process. I LOVE IT. Utsukushii Kare did that, for example, but also many others. I also like it when the series is conducted with alternating POV from the beginning.

Watching Hirukawa breaks my heart. His POV was necessary, because so far he has been shown as such a brave, courageous, strong in his beliefs young man. But he is still just a kid in a situation that would overwhelm anyone. It's very good that his dark thoughts, his aggression boiling somewhere deep inside, were shown. I appreciate it, that domestic violence is not shown in this series as something that exists just somewhere in the back, as an aspect of ML's life that makes him "interesting and mysterious", so that he can be "nobly saved", as part of a romance. Meisenen clearly shows that violence always leaves traces and changes a person and this affects Hirukawa more than he thinks - because I get the impression that he thinks he has it all under control, he can even use it to get Minase back.

Another form of violence, invisible and in white gloves, is abandonment. And I also mean Hirukawa's mother. This whole situation made me frown from the beginning, but now I'm just disgusted with the "kind okasan". This 'inviting your own son home only when a new husband is absent' shit??? I'm sorry what??? The fact that she "doesn't know" about her son's situation is also far-fetched, somehow I doubt that her ex-husband started drinking and became violent on the day of the divorce. After all, she got divorced for a some reason, right? I won't even comment on leaving her child after the divorce to start building a new nest with a new guy and a new child. And how can she still believe that her son is covered in injuries from fights??? These aren't injuries from fighting with his peers, this is what a seriously beaten body looks like! So idk, is she dumb or is she pretending, because the situation right now is covenient for her?

I'm starting to wonder if Hirukawa telling himself that by allowing himself to be beaten he's protecting his mother isn't some desperate attempt to drown out the awareness that he was abandoned by his own mother.

How people have always been able to justify the violence that is done to them at home, this creation of incredibly complicated, multi-layered explanations and excuses for why they endure is so very, very sad.

Minase's parents are a separate story. From the outside, everything is beautiful, the boy has food, a nice house, no one even yells at him. But.. they don't talk to each other at all, like really talk, their phone conversations grow into big events, Minase calling his own dad is such a big deal. I understand parents busy with their careers, but why doesn't anyone call him every day to ask how his day was, if everything is okay, I mean he's still a kid! Minase's father didn't even find a moment for him to confirm that he noticed him at the event, to tell him that he was glad he was there? He invites his own child, his only child, to an important event for him and he doesn't care at all whether the child even got there. Like, it's your own event, you can ask the others to wait 5 minutes, it's not like they'll start anything without you! But for that, you would have to start prioritizing your child over other people and yourself, right?

It's unbelievable how abandoned Hirukawa and Minase are, left to their own devices, how they have to deal with their own reality and the reality of the adults in their lives, who should be managing their own shit and supporting their children. It's really no wonder that they found each other and are drawn to each other. No one has given them both even a semblance of a sense of security, they are so disconnected from what's going on around them, they have created so many defense mechanisms that it's a miracle that they can create this wonderful relationship together at all.

I'm moved by how Hirukawa still chooses kindness, honesty, how he is terrified by the darkness that lurks within him and demands an outlet from time to time. Likewise, that in all this bullshit reality created by the adults, they both try to communicate, slowly accept their relationship, lean on each other, try to create a normal relationship with taking selfies, writing normal, cute messages to each other. It's all very baeutiful and moving. I adore them so much and I'm so worried about them..

[ashtheketchum]

●Little cheater●

Daryl Dixon X fem.Reader

Era: Alexandria (S5)

Summary: You and your partner live together in Alexandria and you seem very happy. You are also very happy with your partner, but you miss that certain… charm. Daryl provides that for you and you can never get enough of him.

Warnings: +18 CONTENT, FEM.Reader, unprotected, Reader is a cheater, missionary, fingering, riding, handjob, slight cum play

Words: 2.8k

Masterlist!

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PoV (Y/N):

I have been living in Alexandria with my boyfriend for a long time now. Aaron found us and brought us to Deanne, who welcomed us with a loving smile. We have now lived here for three years and we both have different jobs. My boyfriend was supposed to go on runs to find new groups or food while I taught the children. We didn't have many children, but enough to build a new future.

Personally, I never wanted to have children and my opinion on that hasn't changed. I also don't want children with my current partner. He's nice to me and treats me well, but I don't find him attractive anymore. To put it nicely, he's really not good in bed. I had to fake my orgasms again and again so that it would end quickly. But now I've given my sex life a special kick.

Aaron has brought a new group to Alexandria and one of the group immediately catches my eye. An archer, slightly longer hair and intense blue eyes. Our eyes met once and I immediately felt myself getting wet between my legs. But of course I hide my thoughts from my boyfriend, so he doesn't think anything wrong about me. Or catch me doing anything wrong.

Somehow I managed to invite the archer, whose name is Daryl, into my house. My boyfriend is on a run so he wouldn't notice anything. I lied to Daryl and told him that we were having problems with our sink. At first he didn't understand what I wanted, but he went with me to be a "nice neighbor". So while he looks at our sink in the kitchen, I sit behind him and grin broadly. My hungry eyes are glued to his broad back. "Why 're ya starin' at me like tha'?" The archer suddenly asks. At first I was frightened, even though he has his back turned to me, he can feel my eyes on him. So I clear my throat briefly. "I was just… looking at your work…" I lie quietly while he looks at me briefly. I give him an innocent smile before he turns away again and nods slightly. My grin turns dirty and hungry again. “Ah ´kay…”

Daryl works on our sink for another 10 minutes before he stands up and turns the water on and off a few times. "'m done…" I slowly stand up and grin broadly at him, his blue eyes briefly examine my face. "Thanks, Daryl… what would I do without you…?" I purr quietly and lean a little closer to him. Daryl stands still before turning away and drying his hands on a towel. "Callin' yar husband, I guess." His answer makes me giggle briefly, but then I shake my head. "No, no… he's not my husband and… he can't really satisfy me…~" I whisper the last sentence quietly and I see a slight goose bump on Daryl's neck. The redneck looks at me seriously for a moment. "Ya tryin' anythin', woman?" "Call me (Y/N)." I smile innocently at him before I go in front of him again and look up at him. I carefully place my hand on his, which makes him twitch briefly. "Let me thank you for the sink~…"

I lead Daryl up to the bedroom and gently push him into bed. Before I crawl to him, I take off my clothes until I'm standing in front of him in just my underwear. His blue eyes scan my entire body until they land on my face. Daryl may be a survivor and a fighter, but he's still a man. And every man needs to relax sometimes, right? With slow movements, I slowly crawl towards him and kiss his lips gently. He hasn't kissed back yet, but that doesn't bother me too much.

I gently take his hands and place them on my body, one hand on my hip, the other on my thigh. He grips me tightly for a moment before he strokes my skin and I crawl onto his lap. His rough fingers give me pleasant goosebumps and I gasp his name quietly. "Daryl~…" I see his eyes getting a little darker and he's getting bolder with his movements. The archer presses my pelvis against his and I can already feel the bulge under his pants. Panting, I hold on to his broad shoulders while I roll my hips against his. The bulge in his pants is getting bigger and bigger and it rubs perfectly against my clitoris. Moaning, I let my hands go down his chest to pull out his cock.

I don't care about undressing him in any way, I just want him inside me right now. Daryl is breathing heavily and watches me as I pull out his semi-hard cock and wrap my fingers around his shaft. I move them up and down slowly, squeezing a few times to make him even harder. His length makes my insides tingle and I moan quietly. My boyfriend's cock is nothing compared to Daryl's cock. His cock is at least 8 inches long, has veins on the underside of his shaft, and a red tip from which huge drops of pre-cum flow out. "Fuck, woman~…" He gasps quietly as I press my thumb against his tip. "You like that~?" Daryl hesitates briefly before nodding and laying his head back. A man is a man, I told you.

I move my hand a little further around his shaft before I pull his pants down a little further and then take off my panties. I slowly let my wet pussy rub against his shaft, which elicits a quiet sigh from the archer. His cock twitches strongly under my pussy, which makes me gasp briefly. "Are you ready?" "N-no condom…?" He stutters quietly, which makes me giggle. "We don't need a condom…~ We will pull out just in time." And with these words I carefully raise my pelvis, only to then sink back down on him.

His cock immediately stretches my inner walls and an excited moan leaves my throat. I've missed this feeling of being stretched out for so long and I'm finally getting it again. "God, I love your cock, Daryl~…!" I moan loudly and move immediately. Daryl whimpers loudly and clings to the bed covers that are underneath him. His eyes are tightly closed, but I can hear that he's enjoying it. I rest my hands on his toned stomach so that I can lean forward a little and let my pelvis fall harder onto his. This causes my breasts to squeeze slightly.

Our skin slaps loudly against each other, but our voices are louder. Daryl is a little quieter now, but I can still hear him clearly. His whimpering and growling always gives me a pleasant shiver and I moan louder and louder. "So good~…! God~!" Every time I moan something, his cock twitches hard inside me, which always makes me grin. His rough fingers wander down between my legs and he starts rubbing my clitoris. My vision goes black for a moment and I moan his name loudly. "Oh Daryl~…!" "'s good…~ So good~… oh fuck~!" The archer growls loudly, his blue eyes now back on my body.

My legs start to shake and my movements become more and more sloppy. You can really tell that I haven't had good sex in a long time, my body is no longer used to such phases. Daryl seemed to notice this, though, because he grabbed my hips again and thrust into me from below. My eyes immediately rolled back and I was briefly taken aback because I hadn't expected him to suddenly move so well and so quickly. "Just like that~! Yes~!" I scream loudly, my upper body falling onto his. I bury my face in the crook of his neck while I let my legs relax. Daryl now does all the work and fucks me hard. God, I've missed that feeling.

His balls hit my ass, just as his skin slaps harder and harder against mine. With his strong grip he moves me against him and he hits my magic spot perfectly. I see stars in my mind's eye and just moan loudly to myself. I feel Daryl's rapid breathing on my head. I am a moaning wreck and I cling tightly to his top. Although I didn't care at first, I now want it off. So I sit up slightly again and gently tug on his shirt and vest. Daryl gives me a warning look before he moves even faster inside me and strokes my clitoris again. "Ahh fuck~! I'm gonna cum~!" I scream loudly and move faster.

Daryl growls louder and louder, his cock twitches more and more inside me and his breathing is also much faster. "Yah~… me too~" He growls, in a rough voice. Whining, I move faster until I finally reach my orgasm and moan loudly. My orgasm overwhelms me so strongly that my eyes roll back in my head and I start to shake violently. It's been an incredibly long time since I had an orgasm like this, but I can finally enjoy it again and not fake it. My inner walls squeeze Daryl's shaft hard, so that his orgasm also reaches quickly. Before he can come inside me, however, I quickly sit up so that his sperm lands on my inner thighs.

The archer is breathing quickly and heavily, his eyes are closed, probably to come to terms with the current situation. "So good…" I whisper quietly before I fall onto him and calm my breathing. He strokes my hips gently with his hands, his heart is pounding fast against his chest and I can hear it. "Ya good…?" His question makes my heart flutter before I look up and kiss him gently. "Yeah… and you?" The archer just nods at my question before he lies down again, relaxed, and looks at the ceiling. He probably can't figure out what just happened himself. "… we can repeat that, right?" My question makes him sigh loudly.

But we have actually done it again. When my boyfriend is in Alexandria, Daryl and I behave as we always do, ignoring each other most of the time, only giving the other brief glances that always warm me up. And as soon as my boyfriend is out on runs, I have invited Daryl over, but always for different reasons. Sometimes I have trouble carrying something heavy, then my shower didn't work out and today I just invited him to dinner. A "thank you" for always helping me.

"Yes, right there~!" I moan loudly as I look down. Daryl props himself up over me, one arm next to my head, the other hand between my legs. He has rammed two of his fingers deep into my pussy and he moves them in and out quickly, which takes my breath away. His entire hand is already shining with my arousal, as he has already brought me to an orgasm with his fingers. "Jus' one more time…~" The redneck whispers quietly against my neck, which he then starts to kiss. His stubble tickles my skin and a pleasant shiver runs down my spine as I feel my second orgasm. Although the situation feels so good, I have the feeling that Daryl is thinking about something. But I can think about that later.

"Oh fuck~! Daryl~!" I scream out loud as my second orgasm rolls over me. My legs shake like crazy and my breathing is rapid. My vision blurs for a moment before I see the beautiful man who makes me feel so good again. "So good~… oh Daryl~" My voice is shaky due to the overwhelming orgasm. Daryl slowly pulls his fingers out of me and looks at them for a while before wrapping his fingers around his cock. I've now managed to persuade Daryl to always take off his pants and shirts. He refuses to take off his vest, but it's also pleasant when the leather rubs against my skin. With his hand, which is full of my arousal, he massages his shaft for a while before positioning himself between my legs.

His blue eyes look intensely into my (E/C) eyes while his arms support him next to my head, on each side. "Ya ready~?" I immediately nod to answer his question. He gives a short, amused snort before ramming himself into my pussy. I moan loudly in excitement, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist. The archer moves his hips hard against mine and he pulls out of me for just a moment. His blue eyes look deep into mine and I have the feeling that right now there is only us. Just the archer and me, no one else. No boyfriend I'm cheating on, no walkers who are making our lives difficult and no other people who wouldn't expect anything bad from us. And in that moment it became clear to me.

I fell in love with Daryl Dixon. And not just because of the divine sex.

"I-i love you~!" I moan loudly, my eyes looking deep into his. The redneck stops briefly before I feel him twitching hard inside me and pressing his forehead against mine. "´ love ya too~… lil´ cheater~" This nickname makes me giggle before I arch my back and moan loudly. Without me noticing, Daryl has moved a hand to my pussy and he massages my clit quickly. He massages my clitoris in quick circular movements, which makes my eyes roll back. "Ah fuck~! Daryl~! Daryl~!" I moan his name over and over again while I feel that I'm getting closer and closer to my third orgasm. My breathing is getting faster and my inner walls are getting tighter so that I can feel every detail of Daryl's cock. "Yar so tigh´~…" He growls loudly. His lips find my nipples and he sucks on them greedily. He also gently runs his tongue over my now hard nipple. My eyes widen in surprise and I look down at him. I can hardly see his blue iris. His pupils are so wide, full of lust and hunger, it makes my insides tingle.

"'m gonna cum too~…" "Cum inside me~! Please, I need your seeds inside me~!" I beg him loudly. Daryl just growls quietly, at first he wants to speak out, but he sees my determination. So he nods briefly before ramming himself into me even harder. Gasping loudly, I let my eyes roll back again and I open my mouth wide. My legs shake more and more and I press Daryl's pelvis even harder against mine. My heels press firmly against his ass. "Fuck, Daryl~!" His name rolls loudly from my lips as I feel my third orgasm. Completely overwhelmed, I scratch Daryl's shoulders while the archer continues to thrust into me.

It only takes two more thrusts before Daryl comes hard inside me. The feeling of his hot seed inside me overwhelms me and I gasp loudly. Daryl's growling gets louder and louder until he breathes loudly and then becomes completely still, his face resting on my chest. "'s so warm…" I hear him whisper quietly. Smiling gently, I stroke his hair while I try to calm my breathing. Swallowing hard, I look up at the ceiling before Daryl sits up, pulls out of me and looks deep into my eyes.

The archer hesitates briefly before gently kissing my lips. I hum against his lips in surprise before returning his kiss and gently stroking his cheek. "Ya should tell him…" He then murmurs quietly against my lips. I look at Daryl in confusion before I understand what he means. I smile at him uncertainly before gently pushing him away from me and sitting up. "I can't Daryl… he'll kill me if he finds out about us." Daryl just looks at me quietly before looking down and sighing quietly. My inner self is currently fighting with itself.

I love Daryl, but I'm afraid to tell my boyfriend. How will he react? What will he do to me if he knows? What will he do to Daryl? Too many questions are swirling around in my head, but my thoughts are interrupted by Daryl, who gently takes my hand in his. "We can tell together…" His suggestion makes me smile before I nod and pull him closer to me. We kiss gently before falling back into bed and Daryl pulls me on top of him.

"(Y/N), what the hell!?" But then I hear someone scream loudly. Startled, I immediately pull away from Daryl and look at my boyfriend in shock. His wide eyes are first on my naked body, then on Daryl's almost naked body. "What the fuck happened here!?" Well, this is going to be funny.