#tell me your pain i want to share it with you even if only briefly

[animentality]

I love video essays about topics I don't understand or have never thought of, where the OP is absolutely deranged with hatred or love. Explain your passion to me! I don't care what it is, I care about how you feel. Help me see your world, tinged with red.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 012 ]

“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. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. minimal angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. explicit smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. physical violence. sex tapes. reader has a gun and almost uses it.

notes. i wanted the kiyoomi and suna girlies (/gn) to win so here it is! feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 12.9k

series masterlist 

[ TWELVE ] for you, i would cross the line. i would waste my time, i would lose my mind. they say “she’s gone too far this time.”

You prided yourself in being logical.

There was little to no room for measly emotions when it came to royal affairs. Granted, you had no proper training, but you were raised as a noble, and the rules were clear. Set aside your emotions, always look towards the most plausible solution, and cry about it later – where no one could see. Those were your mother’s words. You held onto them for as long as you remembered, with the exception of making only one grand mistake: proceeding with the marriage after catching your fiancé cheating on you.

But now? Now, you were about to make your next worst decision – letting Kiyoomi walk away.

It wasn’t love, of course. It couldn’t be. The odds simply weren’t in your favor, but couldn’t a Princess hope? You met him first, had him as your last dance on your debut ball. He was the first Prince who ever held your hand, the first Prince to dance with you, and the first – possibly last – who reminded what love could feel like. What love should feel like. It was explosive and angry like fire licking up at your skin, begging, pleading at you to chase after him. Every nerve in your body protested as you watched him take one more step away from you. It’s a mistake, one I’ll regret – Don’t let him go. It screamed at you, its cries desperate to be heard. You didn’t want to be here in the Palace. You didn’t want to return to your shared quarters with Rintaro.

You wanted to go back to Itachiyama – his farmhouse, the castle ruins, riding aimlessly with Astra and Lucy, picking fruits from his garden, and spending hours in his library. You hadn’t even held your end of the promise yet to learn everything about him.

What did Kiyoomi love? What did he look like in his slumber? Does he talk in sleep? Does he steal the blankets? What about his favorite song?

You moved before you could think.

Closing the distance in hurried strides, you grasped the Prince’s elbow. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes unreadable through the dimly-lit hallways. “Your Highness. Wait,” you panted, “Listen… back at Itachiyama–”

“Do you want me?”

Your grip on him faltered. Briefly, you took a step back, but the Prince was having none of it. He easily closed whatever distance you attempted to put between you two, his face hard and eyes burning with passion. With yearning. You never thought a man could look so determined yet hopeless as he did, the picture-perfect image of ardor. His brows pinched together, his lower lip trembling as he sighed. “Do you want me?”

You shook your head.

If only it could be as simple as that.

“It’s wrong, my Prince. We couldn’t… We wouldn’t work out. I only meant to say that I do adore you, and I do not want whatever complicated feelings we have to ruin our friendship,” Lies. Every word uttered from your lips were nothing but measly lies. Kiyoomi could tell too – the hesitation written all over your face said otherwise. “I hope you understand. You and I – we’re impossible.”

You couldn’t tell which one you needed more: for him to deny your worries, or for him to agree that you were right. You figured both would be just as painful.

Kiyoomi’s nostrils flared as you looked away from him, feet shuffling in the other direction already. “Stop. Do not take another step. Don’t you dare,” with a low growl, you were suddenly pulled back against his warm chest. You gasped at the hardness of his body, the warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch. His lips were everywhere but the one place you needed it to be – lingering at the curve of your neck, his breaths fanning over your exposed collarbones. It was like he had set you on fire with one touch alone, his firm grip around your waist both eerily intimidating and lustrous. And he must’ve laughed – you weren’t sure anymore. All you knew was that you were completely under Kiyoomi’s mercy, and quite frankly, he could have his way with you as he pleased.

“If you do not choose me…” murmuring, your breath hitched as his lips briefly grazed your skin, making your pulse jump. “You will regret it. You will be unhappy with him.”

I’m already unhappy with him, you wanted to say, but the words died in your mouth.

You’d lost all forms of coherence under Kiyoomi’s spell. Especially in this compromising position, this scandalous way his hand now slowly trailed its way from your abdomen and up to the swells on your chest – Gods, what would any witnesses say? This wasn’t how a Prince held a woman that wasn’t his.

“Your Highness,” you tried to fighting from his grasp, only to fall momentarily back against him when finally, finally, his lips were now leaving marks on your neck. It took all of your willpower to not give in right there, to not sink your fingers in his delicious curls. You had to say no. “I-I think we’ve both had a long night. We should retire to our quarters.”

“I will allow it if it’s my quarters you’ll be sharing.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck – your gaze darted around the empty hallway, paranoid.

The lights had been dimmed hours ago, the staff retiring to their rooms, but it was so quiet your breathy moans could echo. Anyone could walk in and see you like this, pleading but not quite begging for the Prince to not stop holding you.

And it was wrong, so deliciously wrong.

“Please,” you closed your eyes, unable to stop yourself from craning your neck to give him access. Above you, Kiyoomi chuckled, the rumbling of his chest deliciously low.

“You should stop lying to yourself, Princess. You do not want him. Whatever attachment you still have for my brother, it is nothing but a pitiful excuse of familiarity. You keep him around because there is no other choice, but you cannot keep lying to yourself. You cannot keep lying to me that you do not feel as I do when I see the way you look at me,” grasping your chin with his much larger hand, Kiyoomi forced you to look into his eyes. Pools of inky depths stared back at you with part frustration, part lust – his skin already flushed with sweat. You couldn’t look away even if the world ended. There was only you and Kiyoomi, with his hand resting on top of your breasts and gently caressing, so light you might’ve thought he wasn’t there.

And you, breathless and reckless, clung to him like he was your last lifeline.

Kiyoomi dipped down. His nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingled before he breathed you in greedily. “I was never a man who had many desires, but you are the greatest of them all. You run through my mind even in my sleep, and you are the first thing I search for when I wake. So do not tell me you do not want me when I know it’s my name you cry out in your sleep.”

Your knees felt impossibly weak.

“What do you want me to do? I’m married. You’re married. Are you forgetting divorce is impossible?” you snapped back, shoving him until his back hit the wall. The painting above him clattered, yet the Prince seemed uncaring, his arms crossed against his chest as you breathed hard. This was preposterous – this could not go any longer. “This would never work. The people would never understand.”

“I do not care what they think.”

“I care what they think! My husband is already cheating on me, and his own people detest him for it. What more if they find out I have taken you as my lover?”

“Then tell me to go,” he whispered, tilting his head back as he stared at you almost defiantly, mockingly. Like he knew you wouldn’t have the courage to actually say it. “Tell me, and I will walk away.”

When Kiyoomi is met with silence, he scoffed. A smirk graced his handsome face before he’s grabbing you by the arm and twisting you, the positions reversed until your back hit the wall. There’s a slight ache pounding at the back of your head, but nothing – absolutely nothing – could tear your attention away from his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is nothing short of avidity. Kiyoomi devoured you like a man starved, molding the shape of his lips into yours while his large hand encompassed the entirety of your face. Thumbs running over your cheek, his imposing frame completely dominated you. Your bodies were now pressed into each other that it became difficult to tell where you began and the Prince ended.

All you knew was Kiyoomi kissed you like he spent most of his nights dreaming about it, sighing and groaning all at once before his tongue fought for dominance.

Pushing his tongue inside your willing lips, he tasted all of you. He spoke the words he struggled to say, the firm grasp on your hip keeping you in place beneath him a clear sign he didn’t want you anywhere but here. But you weren’t leaving. You’d be a fool to walk away now that you finally had a taste of him, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You wanted more, needed more.

Kissing him back harder, your palms flattened on his chest before you balled his shirt into your fists, uncaring if he’d walk back home flustered and wild. You simply needed him there; you wanted to breathe him in, to have nothing but him as your entire world.

“Stay,” you pleaded in between kisses, letting the Prince maneuver you until your bum landed flat on a table. Uncaring, the Prince swept aside all knick-knacks placed above it when his lips found yours again. And oh, a greedy man he was. Even after kissing you until you were breathless, he still hadn’t had his fill. His tongue danced with yours in this gentle melody only you two could sing, your bodies moving in sync like a choreographed dance. Your hand would wound up to tangle itself in his dark locks, his hands would scramble to undo his breeches, and willingly – wantonly – you would welcome him with all your being. It’s a dance between lovers, a forbidden tune you sang wholeheartedly, accompanied by your high-pitched moans once the Prince had himself buried in you – “Oh. Oh.”

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You, my Prince, it’s you,”

Biting down on your lip to muffle the noises you made, you heard the crescendo of the music. Rising and rising with overwhelming intensity at each note hit, each perfect thrust and drive into you. He hadn’t felt like anyone else. He was thicker and spread you open, impaled on his stiffness while you sat there helplessly to take it all. You felt empowered and weak at the same time, with your legs locking behind his chest as tears rolled down your face from the pleasure of it all, but Kiyoomi showed no signs of stopping.

Heavens, he might not even stop tonight, not when you sucked him in tight and made his breath stutter, his thrusts staggered.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried out, unable to keep quiet any longer. He simply held you carefully, a great contrast to his hips pistoning in and out of you – no, he held you like you were a porcelain doll he feared would break, someone he had to protect and cherish. And his eyes – droopy yet adoring – gazed upon you like you were worth more than any crown. “Oh, you are so…”

His forehead landed on top of yours, his lips minutely brushing against yours for a quick kiss. It’s rushed, frantic, yet intimate in ways you’d never experienced before. For once, sharing bodies with someone didn’t feel like just like sex.

For once, you finally made love with someone.

“Choose me, Princess,” he gritted his teeth, “It was always meant to be me.”

You awoke with a gasp.

Sitting up, your heart pounded in your chest, your skin clammy and drenched with sweat. A scan of your surroundings told you that you were in your room, the empty side of your bed a sign Rintaro kept to his word and left you alone. Closing your eyes, your head dropped down to your palms.

So it had been a dream, after all.

You really allowed Kiyoomi to walk away from you. And one mistake leading into another, you let Rintaro do the same.

Regret churned at your stomach. You could see it perfectly now – the drooping of the Prince’s shoulders, his gaze cast downwards when you bid him farewell. There were still traces of the happiness you felt in Itachiyama lingering on him just as he finally left, ones you were compelled to reach out to before it was too late. But it couldn’t be – you refused to give into your desires when it meant committing a sin. Rintaro didn’t deserve your loyalty, but he was still your husband, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’d been exactly like him.

In fact, you might be becoming like him with each passing day, and although you would never say it out loud, you understood him better now.

To find someone who could’ve been yours, someone who would’ve made you so happy against all odds, and to not have them at all – it felt like a cruel joke was being played by the Universe.

Is this what Rintaro felt like? Did he feel as if the world was being unusually cruel to him? Did he wonder what he could’ve done to deserve all this? Because those thoughts ran into your head long enough that you gave up on sleep, and rolled out of bed with a heavy heart and – shamefully – aching with need. Snatching your robe from the closet, you tiptoed out of the room. Rintaro was fast asleep in the sofa, his arm shielding his eyes from the lit candles. When he didn’t budge from his spot at you poking around him, you let out a sigh of relief and left the room. Clicking the door shut, you spun around, coming face to face with a wide eyed maid.

“Heavens!” you placed a hand on your chest, and then chuckled as the maid stepped back and bowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone would still be around.”

The maid frantically shook her head. She scratched the back of her head as her gaze darted around, seemingly determined to not look you in the eye. “No, Your Highness, it was my fault for startling you. I was reassigned to you just now, you see, and… Uhm, I’m Airi. Prince Shinsuke sent me here.”

Airi… You’d heard that name before.

“Oh! Airi. Yes, of course, I remember you,” you nodded, tying the robe around your waist tighter. “Why are you up this late?” At your question, Airi’s cheeks flushed a deep red before turning away.  You smiled to yourself, chuckling under your breath as you gently squeezed her arm. “I understand. You needn’t say anymore.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to accompany me for a walk?” you gestured to the empty hall. Airi nodded, a little too enthusiastic in picking up her skirts. You figured neither of you wanted to stay here any longer where anyone could easily see you.

Turning to the other direction, you headed for the gardens at the outer wing. It was the closest to your shared room with Rintaro, and coincidentally, an infamous shortcut to Belleview’s surrounding gardens. There had been rumors that Belleview was added in the palace grounds as an afterthought years ago – how a sudden need arose to have a separate place for a married couple. It was bizarre, in your opinion, how this long, seemingly endless path would certainly end up right at Kiyoomi’s doorstep if you were patient enough to brave the half hour walk.

Could you?

Would you?

Absentmindedly, you gnawed at your nails. Your Mother would chastise you for the unladylike gesture if she were here, but it was only you and Airi. She wasn’t going to judge, although you didn’t miss the way she glanced at you so often. Curiosity, maybe, but a question imposed her eyes. Deciding to break the silence, you smiled at the dark-haired maid.

“You’re very pretty. I can see why the Prince fell for you.”

Airi stuttered in her steps. “Oh! Thank you, you’re too kind for that, but I doubt it’s because of the way I look. The Prince and I have known each other since we were kids, that’s all. My mother was a maid too before she died. She was the one who helped raise His Highness,” she babbled, grimacing when she realized your patient smile held little to conceal your amusement. “Uhm… If I may be so bold, my Princess, I think you look rather great for someone who has been cheated on.”

Your brows rose. That you hadn’t expected.

“I do?”

“Yes. You look unbothered by it, or at least, you seem to be doing a great job at it,” she offered a polite smile, “Being a royal must come naturally to you as a noblewoman.”

Unable to help it, you chuckled. Oh, how wrong she was.

“Not at all. I haven’t always been this way,” you told her, watching as your surroundings changed from the marble pillars and into the night sky, where the fresh, cold breeze bit at your skin. You were thankful for it – the cold atmosphere was a great contrast to the blooming, colorful flowers.

It somehow reminded you of Kiyoomi’s gardens, and how you probably wouldn’t see it anymore.

The smile on your face disappeared. The ring on your finger grew heavier, and unbeknownst to you, you started spinning it with your thumb. It was curious, truly, how a week was all it took before you completely lost yourself. You couldn’t remember who you were even like before Itachiyama, before Kiyoomi. Or could it be that the past you had never been fulfilled to begin with? What if you were merely a work in progress, and the you in this moment was the real one?

If that was true, then that could only mean two things you would never want to admit out loud.

One: that you weren’t as in love with your husband as you thought if you couldn’t get Kiyoomi out of your mind, or Two: that the traditional saying and belief was right – your last dance would be your fated lover.

And it would make sense, too. Of course, you were happy with Rintaro. Were. You fell in love with him simply because there was no other appropriate reaction. He was the Crown Prince, a man who called on you every single day and learned about your passions until night came. He charmed your parents, loved them as his own, and proudly presented you to his regal family. It was the kind of love little girls were taught to dream about. The kind of love everyone wanted. You couldn’t blame yourself for craving the Prince’s touch, for giving him all your firsts. It seemed only the right thing to do. He courted you, committed to you, loved you as much as he could – it was logical and methodical.

It was one plus one equals two.

But Kiyoomi? It didn’t feel natural, or a step by step process.

It felt all kinds of wrong because you shouldn’t, and all kinds of right because it’s him. It’s the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, or how his head is always turned in the other direction to act like he isn’t listening. He isn’t like Rintaro who never takes his gaze off of you – not because he can’t get enough of your beauty, but because he was watching. Rintaro was always watching, analyzing everything you did, crafting his actions and words perfectly to elicit the response he wanted from you.

His brother was the exact opposite.

Kiyoomi always stayed at the walls and blended in with the background. He never attracted any attention to himself, but would devote his entire focus on you simply because he’s entranced. Or you hoped he might. Surely it couldn’t be one-sided.

You felt it too – the frustration ebbing off of him each time you slipped away. You saw with your own eyes the way his face fell when news of your husband’s affair spread.

He didn’t hate his brother for sleeping with his mistress behind your back. He hated Rintaro for ruining a night that should’ve been yours. A night where his touch could linger on yours for a moment longer as you smiled for the cameras. A night where it’d be appropriate for him to look at you like you’re the star of the show – it’s camaraderie, you’d play off – and a night where he might’ve drove you back at the farmhouse and slowly, tenderly, begin with tugging your gloves off before he moved on to your dress.

Gods. You exhaled. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Kiyoomi, his plump lips that looked inviting, his dark eyes hungrily roaming over you and hoping, praying, that it’d been him instead. These were all wrong – so why were you walking towards Belleview?

“Your Highness?”

Airi’s voice snapped you out of your trance. Blinking, you smiled back at her in apology and continued. “Sorry, I must have been lost in my thoughts. As I was saying, though, I spent most of my life hiding behind my parents’ shadows because I struggled talking to people. And then the Crown Prince came and swept me off my feet, which changed everything. When he came into my life, I figured I had to become someone worthy enough to stay by his side, someone he could be proud to be with. It took a lot of years and effort before I could be confident enough to say I was good enough for him,” you mumbled, stopping in your tracks to look up into the dark horizon before you.

Huh. Why hadn’t you realized that before?

You’d been trying so hard to impress Rintaro all along. Isn’t that why you were so frustrated? You’d spent years molding yourself to become who he wanted, only to be slapped in the face that it was impossible because you could never be her.

You let out a dry laugh. “But apparently not. He already had someone else.”

“I’m really sorry you were dragged into this. From the stories Prince Shinsuke tells me, you’re a kind woman who deserved better.”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t mad upon reading the tabloids about his affair? If anything, I was just furious he couldn’t stay out of trouble and ruined my trip to Itachiyama.”

“Did you like it there?”

“I loved it. I wanted to stay.”

Admitting it out loud felt… liberating. You were beginning to feel more like yourself, even if it meant being less of a Princess and more of this unorthodox woman who simply wanted to be. It must be the side effect of spending time with Kiyoomi. You would soon care less about the rules imposed on you, and unapologetically be yourself.

“But the world sure has a cruel way of bringing you back to reality.”

“Your Highness?”

Both yours and Airi’s head snapped at the sound. Amongst the rustling of the bushes, a tall figure suddenly appeared – all mighty and regal even in his creased blouse and loosely tied breeches. His hair, dark and tousled like he’d run his fingers through it, did little to hide the surprise on his face.

“My Prince,” you breathed out, “What are you doing out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And you?”

You fought back a smile at his raspy voice. You could almost picture it – Kiyoomi tossing and turning all night in a bed separate from Iris. The sanguine voice in your head fibbed, too, wondering if the Prince thought about you as well. “It’s a restless night,” was all you let on, and gestured to the shock-still maid beside you. “Airi, do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Vehemently, she shook her head. “Not at all, Princess. Please, call for me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

You waited as Airi disappeared from sight before you stepped closer to the Prince, compelled by an invisible force to be closer to him. “Kiyoomi–”

“Are you well?”

“Me? Why do you ask?”

He tipped his head to the side, causing a lone curl to fall in front of his eye. You fought back the urge to brush it away, beguiled by his long fingers sweeping it away “You’re in a very difficult position right now, whatnot with the article spreading,” he gestured back to the castle, “Has he spoken to you?”

You shook your head. “He’s kept to himself the past few days. I think this is a lot harder on him than it looks. As for me, well… I’ve had better days.”

True to your word, Rintaro almost secluded himself from the world. He shut off his phone, chucked it at another corner of the room, and never touched it again. It was painful seeing your husband that way when you know of his hobby of endless scrolling. But now, he couldn’t stomach the social media wishing him ill, seeing so blatantly with his own eyes his people’s deference to him. It hurt – more so for him than you – but still, a small part of you wished he’d say something. You were there, were you not?

You cut off your trip short because your husband needed you, and he barely uttered a word since you arrived. It got at your nerves. Nevertheless, you’d give him the time he needed. You planned to keep to your word that you would fix this all for him, regardless of what that might take.

You weren’t so cruel to let your husband be dragged into the pits of hell. Because quite frankly, that wasn’t the media’s right to begin with. If anyone would unleash hell upon Rintaro and Iris, it had to be you.

Kiyoomi scanned your face. “You don’t seem upset about all of this.”

You shrugged. “Their secret would’ve gone out one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I have far, bigger things to worry about, like you,” you leveled your gaze with his, watching as the Prince sucked in a breath.

Your last conversation with him the past night still played in your mind. It ate away at you to have to say goodbye when you didn’t want to, but he was here now. You woldn’t waste the opportunity to make things right.

Steeling yourself, you shut your eyes tight to gather courage. “Kiyoomi… Your Highness. I… I do not wish to stop talking to you. I know I sound absurd because I haven’t known you that long, but everything we shared in Itachiyama, I cherish it. I won’t forget a single memory I shared with you. So please allow me to take back what I said. I didn’t mean it when I said I would stop talking to you.”

“You should, though.” Opening your eyes, your heart dropped into your stomach when the Prince took a step back. “I don’t think we can be friends, Princess.”

Your hands grew cold and clammy.

“W-Why not? Have I done something to offend you? Tell me, and I will correct it–”

“We cannot be friends because I do not wish to be just your friend.”

Whatever distance he created between you disappeared. In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi had closed the gap in one smooth stride, leaning down close enough his nose nearly brushed yours.

You inhaled sharply at the proximity. Kiyoomi’s heat blanketed you, making you realize you’d been shivering from the cold prior to his arrival. Now, he was here, and your senses were filled to the brim with him – his scent, his warmth, his frame looming over yours making you feel protected instead of small. You couldn’t help it; your fingers twitched to pull him by his collar and finally have his lips pressed to yours. It’d been eating away at you for several nights.

A peck couldn’t hurt.

But you made no move, greedily sharing in the same breaths instead. Because if it was all you could have, then it was all you could get.

“You’re right. It does sound absurd. We have barely spoken to one another, yet I’m already tired  of this stupid game my brother is playing – his foolish plans to become King, make my wife his concubine, all with the intention of keeping you around like a pet. It makes my blood boil,” Kiyoomi grinned, though it was more sinister than genuine. “He cannot have everything for himself. I will not let him.”

“My Prince. I–”

“–Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with you, nor do I have any intentions of stooping down to Rintaro’s level and stealing what isn’t mine,” cruel, you think, as the Prince effectively cut you off with a brush of his thumb to your lips. You were now putty at his hands; melting and knees weakened with nothing but his touch holding you up. “But I am tired of seeing you this distraught over a man who cannot see your worth. I have had enough. So whatever plans you may have to retaliate, tell me, and I will gladly be a pawn in your game. Make your move. You may command me as you please.”

It took a moment before his words dawned on you. When it did, your palms flattened on his chest, absorbing its warmth and feeling the flutter of his heart underneath your fingertips. He felt so alive, whole, and well – you couldn’t possibly drag him into your mess.

“I could never use you like that. You know this.”

“So you do have a plan in mind,” he noted with a smirk, fingers crawling up to circle your wrist. “My brother really underestimated you, hasn’t he? You’re already proving to be far more dangerous than any sword.”

You flushed warm at his compliment. Pretty, yes, Rintaro has called you that multiple times. Beautiful, gorgeous, even, but dangerous? It made you feel powerful, like the crown was already on your head, and the kingdom was all yours for the taking. But greed often started out as a small flicker of fire, and you stomped on it as quickly as it breathed into life. You were no thrill seeker – you would not dabble or tread in dangerous, unknown, forbidden paths. Such paths like Kiyoomi, but it was there. The temptation. The calling to just reach out to the hand he’s offered.

Its voice beckoned you. Come, it whispered oh-so-sweetly at your ear, he is your puppet.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “It isn’t a good plan at all, and the Queen has summoned us – all of us – to inform us of her decisions on how we will proceed with this scandal. There’s a good chance Her Majesty might get in the way, but I’m determined. I need this plan to work.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I plan on turning the tables around and pinning it on Iris. I know it’s dangerous – she’s your wife, and you might get caught in the crossfire–”

“Do as you please.”

“Are you serious?”

Kiyoomi nodded with resolve. “When I said I do not wish to be just your friend, I meant it. I want you to use me. I want to be your weapon,” nudging his nose with yours, he brought up your hand to his lips, kissing the glimmering diamond on your ring. A kiss of rebellion, a war cry, or a silent plea to be dominated – it said everything and too little all at once. “If there is anything I can do to help you escape this royal hell, I will do it.”

You closed your fist around his lips, and basked in the ghostly flutters it will leave upon your skin hours after he has gone. Then, you questioned it all: how could something so poignant evoke a raging will within you?

“It will be hard for you, Your Highness,” you warned him, “My plan is not a kind one.”

“I do not have very kind thoughts myself,” he chuckled, the sound dark and ominous. “But you should be careful, Princess. Iris is not who you think she is. If you are to proceed with your plan, you need to watch out for yourself, and Maiko especially.”

Maiko? What could Maiko’s involvement with Iris be?

“She won’t hurt Maiko, will she?”

“She wouldn’t dare, but I can’t guarantee she won’t try doing something to you,” with a wary gaze, Kiyoomi immediately masked it with that of indifference. Scanning the surroundings, and hearing nothing but the crickets of insects and the rustling of bushes from the wind, Kiyoomi wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back. Iris is probably somewhere close.”

You were never one to feel much fear, but in that moment, a sense of numbing chill settled in your bones. Goosebumps arose on your skin. It was almost like you could feel it – her sharp gaze, her wicked and deceivingly innocent smile. You shivered despite yourself and huddled closer to the Prince, letting him guide you through the garden’s maze when his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Do you wish to know what would make Iris tick?”

“What?”

“It may be Rintaro who she wants,” his breathy voice caressed you, sending a different set of shivers down your spine. “But it is I whom she would kill to keep. Present yourself as a threat, make her believe you can steal me from her, and you will find her willingly offering Rintaro to you.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t want him?”

“Then you shall always have me.”

Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi…

The Prince’s last words haunted you. Moreover, the way he looked with the moonlight illuminated upon him… he felt surreal. He came to you in your dreams more than once, caressing you in places he shouldn’t be touching, filling you in ways you never thought possible. A part of you wondered if it was merely your brain coping with the fact you’d mistakenly lain in bed with Rintaro. How you’ve felt disgusted with yourself ever since, and found it hard to look in the mirror. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the brain – replacing the man who left marks on you with the man that could’ve made you feel better. And you knew Prince Kiyoomi would – with those large, calloused hands, and luscious lips you spent countless hours gazing upon… would it be such a sin to wish they hadn’t been dreams only?

Picking up the nearby body wash, you scrubbed yourself clean of Rintaro. Your body still ached from last night’s events, but your heart clenched for an entirely different reason. Seriously. You couldn’t believe it. First, he’d let himself get caught in the action, and you let him sleep with you? You could’ve pushed him away. You could’ve said no.

It didn’t have to lead to whatever happened last night.

But then again, laughing to yourself, why did you chastise yourself so much? He was your husband. You were both married – sleeping with him wasn’t a mistake. Yet why did it feel like it? It felt as if… you kept on letting him take and take from you. How long until you’ve had enough? How much more could you give before there was nothing left of you?

You sighed, sinking deeper under the water. It’d been hours since your previous encounter with the older prince, and he hadn’t left your mind since. His offer for you to make use of him like he was a weapon, or worse, a tool, wasn’t an opportunity you could let pass by.

You could make use of him. He had more access to Iris than you ever could, and planting spies in Belleview Manor sounded terrible. She’d probably won over their loyalty judging by the way they kept their mouths shut that first night you arrived there to give her tea for her ‘headache.’ She had secrets, that you were sure of, but did Kiyoomi know them too? What was her connection with Maiko? Surely… Maiko wasn’t involved in whatever schemes they had in mind. The Princess was too sweet and innocent for that, but then again, so was Iris. The so called ‘dear friend’ of your boyfriend before he’d asked for your hand in marriage.

This was proving to be nearly impossible.

It was hard to tell who to trust within the Palace. Kita would be at your side, but you couldn’t possibly involve him in your plan. He might not even approve of it. It would be against the law, and it wasn’t the kindest thing one could think of. Kita would call it ‘the opposite of justice.’

“I hope the meeting went well, Princess?”

Popping your head from the water, you watched as Airi entered the room, folded towels in her arms. She’d prepared a bath for you long before you arrived, the water warm and filled with bubbles – just how you liked it. The room smelled faintly of roses, too, and you made a mental note to thank Airi for her efforts.

“It was great. His Highness and I discussed a lot,” he almost kissed me, too, but she didn’t need to know that, or the fact you wished he did. “Oh, and Airi.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

You pondered over it, you really did it. It was out of your character to abuse the power you had, yet you couldn’t stop the heat flaring in your veins. The pettiness that begged to be revealed. “Could you have someone call L’Essenxe Royale? Tell them I want them to discontinue their Vanilla Candy line because I’m allergic to it, and it would be a shame if I had to stop purchasing their perfumes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Airi nodded, stopping in her tracks after a beat. “I wasn’t informed you were allergic to vanilla. I’m sorry, I’ll do better in catering to your needs more.”

“I’m not allergic. I just don’t want to smell Iris ever again.”

Just before Airi could respond, the doors swung open. Suna sauntered in like he owned the place, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone and loose. His collarbones and the top of his chest shone with sweat, his skin flushed and his dark hair messily swept to the sides. He must’ve gone for his early training – and damned him for looking good.

You snorted inwardly. But Prince Kiyoomi probably looked better.

“There you are. I didn’t get to see you before I left.”

“Airi, please give us a moment,” you requested from where you sat, arms lazily resting on the sides of the tub. Airi scurried out of the room with reddened cheeks – no doubt picturing what events could transpire between a naked wife and her insatiable husband. And speaking of said husband, he’d leant against the pristine white walls, arms crossed against his chest as he let those dark, hooded eyes roam over your exposed skin.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I think the real pleasure here is this view.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that what you told your mistress too when you fucked her in my bed?”

Suna paused. It was a bait; he was sure of it. Choosing not to bite at your provocation, he pushed his weight off the wall and gestured to the doors. “You redecorated the room,” he announced, “Without my permission.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission. I thought we made it clear – under your suggestion – that I was to sleep in that bed, and you take the couch outside. Technically, that would make it my room, no?”

“You made Airi burn the sheets.”

“Sue me.”

“You threw away Iris’ clothes.”

“They barely counted as clothes, Your Highness. They were just thongs.”

“If this is about last night–”

“Last night was a mistake. Never speak of it again,” you warned, and just the mere reminder that you’d let him have his way with you, and you were too weak to refuse, again, no longer made the relaxing bath enjoyable. All of Airi’s efforts poured down the drain because having Suna around had your muscles stiffening with tension again. Rising from the bath, you wiped off the bubbles and suds off your body before stepping out. “What did you truly come here for? You never bother me when I’m bathing.”

Suna’s hungry gaze followed your every movement. The perverted bastard wasn’t even trying to hide it – his poor attempts of adjusting his breeches a failure once you’d put on your robe. “Her Majesty has summoned us for breakfast. She has an important announcement to make. I suggest you make haste so she won’t be anymore upset with us.”

“With you, you mean,” you waved around your lip balm, “What? Don’t look so offended. I am not the one who caused a scandal here.”

“I’m tired of arguing with you.”

You couldn’t agree more. Smacking your lips together, you walked past him, making sure to sashay your hips as you did. But before you could leave the room, Suna’s hand shot out to wrap it around your wrist. Gently, he pulled you back into him until your breasts brushed with his chest, the dampness of your robe making his shirt stick even harder on his skin.

 “Wait,” he breathed out, not once taking his eyes off you as he blindly swiped for a towel. “Let me dry you off properly. It would be a shame if you made a mess on your newly decorated room.”

Your husband fell down on his knees before you could say a word.

You almost asked him what he was doing when his hands tugged at the ties of your robes, his tender touch pushing them past your shoulders until the robe pooled at your feet. You inhaled sharply. Suna was kneeling before you, caressing your leg and urging you to place at his thigh. You don’t know what compelled you to obey, but you did. Resting it on his leg, you felt too exposed – his nose was right at your stomach, his hands touching everywhere but that one place near your heat.

It was torture.

The entire act was done with slow, purposeful motions. Like an artist taking great care with his sculptures, he pressed hard on your hips to keep you in place when you shivered. His strength, his silent gestures that he wouldn’t let you slip and fall – it broke your heart.

Why couldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he touch you this way and mean it?

Why did he have to remove his ring?

The glint of the golden material caught your attention from the vanity. You picked it up where he left it last night, unconsciously hugging it to your chest until you fell asleep. Until now, you’d brought it with you, and stared at it hard enough it might’ve melted. It never did, just as he would never belong to you. And then – his finger swiped over your nipple, the cloth on his hands now damp and his breath staggering as he moved to kiss your bare stomach.

You pushed his head away.

Suna stumbled back, barely. He sat there with a dazed expression, the towel he used to dry you with now forgotten. His hands shook in his lap, his eyes blown wide with something you couldn’t quite name – longing, regret, frustration. Whatever it was, it matched yours.

“I’m dry enough,” you told him, snatching off his ring from the counter and flicking it his way. The two of you watched as it stumbled along the ground with a loud clink, clink, clink, before it rolled right at his feet. When you finally found the courage to speak, your voice was so quiet – you couldn’t hear yourself at all. “Wear it. I don’t care that it no longer means anything to you. I won’t have you causing anymore problems for me when your mother asks about it.”

When you and Suna sat next to each other at the dining hall, neither of you spoke a word.

In fact, not a single person present dared to. Her Majesty sat at the head of the table, the clink of her utensil the only thing audible as she furiously cut into her steak. She was furious, that much was obvious. Even Crown Prince Ushijima hadn’t touched his meal, and his young son, barely a boy of eight, had his lips shut the entire time.

Finally, she takes a bite, takes a huge drink of her wine, and slams the glass down. All of you jump at the sound.

“It is not every day we can all be gathered here, but as you are all aware, it is a trifling time for the Crown. We as the royal family need to be united now more than ever,” she announced, her back straight as she looked everyone in the eye. “Which is why I am here to inform everyone of some minor changes we will implement from now on, and some events we have planned for the next season. First of all, Princess–” she pointed her knife your way, “-I need you to hold your mother back. She’s getting on my nerves with all her incessant calling.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she lifted her chin, “Your Mother hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article was released. She demands I return her to you, but I think she forgets her place and yours. You are a Princess now; you are the Crown’s property. You are to stay here and see to your duties until you take your last breath.”

Forcing a smile, you willed yourself to calm down. “My mother was merely concerned, Your Majesty. I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you to tell her to stand down. I have already spoken with my advisors our next course of action and have all decided that we will deny Rintaro and Iris’ affair by all means. We are to pretend as if the article never existed. We need to show we are the Crown, the monarchs and rulers of this grand kingdom. We will not be swayed by measly gossip and defaming rumors.”

“But it wasn’t a rumor. The Crown Prince did sleep with the Princess.”

Her Majesty sighed, the sound dramatically drawn out. “Do you have any complaints, my dear? Because if you did, then you should have attended the meeting this morning.”

You gritted your teeth. “I wasn’t informed there was one.”

“That’s a shame – I thought Rintaro would tell you. It seems he likes to keep his secrets, then,” she jabbed, and your husband nervously sipped his wine as you glared at the sides of his head. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we planned a few events for this season. For this month, the four of you will be showing up to public events and you are to appear united in marriage. Laugh, kiss, hold hands – I do not care. Just make sure the cameras get it, and if anyone dares ask on any clarifications about the affair, simply tell them that it is very easy to fabricate photographs nowadays. You will deny everything. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” agreed Suna, and you scoffed. Snaking his hands under the table, he squeezed yours in assurance and whispered, “Don’t cause a scene in front of the Queen. We will talk later about this.”

“I was hoping we would.”

“Next, Iris and Y/N will be having weekend dates to show they are friends. We have already contacted an orphanage you will pay a visit to. Play with the kids, read storybooks with them, and get as many pictures as possible. Not only will it show that there’s camaraderie between you two, but hanging out with children will also imply that we can expect a next line of heirs soon.”

“A splendid idea!” Atsumu beamed, the first to dig into his meal. Rather, the Prince was halfway finished stuffing his mouth, happily rubbing his hands together at the thought. “This will all be good for the Crown, and to win the people’s trust back.”

“You really don’t know how to shut up, huh?” muttered Osamu.

“Your Majesty. Don’t you think this is going too far?” Tobio spoke up, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. Beside him, Prince Shinsuke was pleading for him to sit back down. The youngest Prince merely slapped his hands away, looking betrayed by his brother’s words. “Why is no one speaking up? Is this how the royal family really is? You would all lie to your people, deceive them we are all in one heart and mind when we are not. Is that the kind of rulers we aspire to be? Are we really the rulers they look up to?”

Prince Shinsuke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand you’re upset, but the throne wouldn’t have lasted this long if none of us pulled some strings and kept up deceiving acts. Trust me, I also do not wish to take a part in this, but Her Majesty is right. The people are already growing restless that we have been without a King for years – having Crown Prince Rintaro’s reputation tarnished will not make this better. And as far as I know, there are still many protests against having an illegitimate child on the throne,” he reminded, causing Prince Ushijima to clear his throat awkwardly. Still, Shinsuke pushed on. “Rintaro is the King the Cabinet wants. We must follow the law. Ushijima can only be crowned King until we have ran out of options.”

Your jaw dropped.

“And what of me?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, the future of the Kingdom is a heavier matter at hand than your broken heart,” Iris quipped, “Besides, if you knew about our relationship prior to the marriage, then you cannot blame anyone but yourself. You’re in this predicament because you were too cowardly to let go when given the chance.”

“That’s enough!” Tobio yelled. “You all need to stop talking about her like that. You’re all right – the Crown is more important. We need a stable ruler and for the people to not lose their trust in us. But the Princess is still a human. She was lied to, manipulated, and constantly looked down on. The least you can do right now is let her acknowledge her pain, seeing as it is clearly too much for each and every one of you to be decent human beings!”

Her Majesty paid him no mind. Waving her hand in the air dismissively, she sighed. “He is young. He will understand someday.”

At her nonchalance, Tobio’s nostrils flared. It was the last you saw of him before he kicked his chair back, storming out of the hall before everyone erupted into protests. Keiji slunk back into his seat, Shinsuke was immediately making efforts to appease the Queen by apologizing on everyone’s behalf, and Maiko was crying. And you? You glowered at the Queen before following after Tobio, the three other Princes right at your heels.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

You could hear the Princes running after you. Two pairs were rushing, but one pair of footfalls sounded more like stomping. Before you could turn down the hall where Tobio went, you were dragged by, Suna firmly gripping your elbow as he halted you in your tracks.

“Her Majesty was speaking,” he hissed, fingers digging harder to your skin. “Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rintaro. I can’t believe you right now. Letting me be friends with your mistress? Really? And you didn’t even tell me there was a meeting this morning!”

His free hand ran through his hair. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would act like this. You would’ve embarrassed me in front of the advisors. Besides, you left before I could–”

“I embarrass you? Do you even hear yourself? You’re the embarrassing one for going behind my back and sleeping with your mistress–”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Isn’t she? I wasn’t aware there was another word to describe a woman frolicking with a married man!”

His grip grew tighter as he spoke, and you squeaked out in pain. You tried to pry his fingers off of you, but Suna wasn’t having any of it. “You’re one to talk, leaving me here in this country to go around dancing with my brother–” Your husband’s face disappeared before you. In the blink of an eye, he was shoved nearly across the room and falling right at his ass.

Kiyoomi stood protectively over you, his chest rising and falling as he shook with anger.

“Stay away from my wife!”

Meanwhile, Tooru dodged between Suna and Kiyoomi, the former rising on his feet and reeling his arm back in a punch. Tooru effortlessly caught his brother’s arm, but holding him back was a different struggle of itself. “Rin, that’s enough!”

“Are you okay?”

You blinked back from the scene. Kiyoomi was now holding your arm where Suna grabbed you, checking for any injuries. Aside from a little aching, and a possible bruise that would show up tomorrow, you were unharmed. Still, the Prince wasn’t assured. His thick brows pinched together in concern, turning your arm over and over as he muttered to himself the violent things he wished to do to his brother. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really, but I want to go after Tobio.”

Kiyoomi nodded in understanding. “Go. I’ll handle this.”

You shared a knowing look with him. I’m on your side, his eyes said, and that was enough to reassure you. Giving him a nod, you quickly turned on your heels and ran. You ran and ran until you were out of breath, your corset digging into you uncomfortably. The youngest Prince sure was a fast one – he’d already reached his own study in such a short time.

Peeking through the partially closed door, your heart broke at the sight.

Prince Tobio sat on his painter’s stool, an unfinished portrait of you – smiling in your wedding dress – lay before him. He was crying, sniffling to himself and wiping his tears with the collar of his blouse. Even the sounds of his cries were too painful to hear.

Shutting the door behind you, you took your place behind him, gently squeezing his shoulders to make him look up. When he did, his bloodshot eyes greeted you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” you tell him softly, “I didn’t mean to ruin breakfast for you.”

Tobio shook his head. He pulled out a handkerchief before blowing on it, and you smiled despite yourself – he’d grown so much, yet he was still that sweet, naïve boy in your eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had his debut, and now he was flourishing into such a great, young man. Your little brother, the sweetest Prince – you would do anything for him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, sis. You’re the victim here.”

You laughed a little. Victim sounded too poor of a word choice. Turning to the canvas before you, you gestured to it. “What are you painting?”

“You,” he admitted with red cheeks, “I started on this when Rintaro announced he’d be marrying you so I could give it as a wedding gift. But Her Majesty wanted me to focus on my studies, so I didn’t have enough time to finish. I mean, it’s not even the same dress you wore on your wedding so it’s inaccurate–”

“-It looks beautiful.”

“It’s still unfinished,” his shoulders slumped in your flattery before he lightened up, already moving to pick up the brushes as he wiped his snot with his hanky. “Since you’re here, would you like me to paint you as you are now? I’ll get a new canvas.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose all your efforts on your previous painting.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured, and per his instruction, you sat stiffly to ‘pose’ for him. It’s a little awkward, and Tobio struggled to sketch you each time you fidgeted, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. Midway through his sketch, though, he placed his pencil down, his eyes brimming with tears again. “I still can’t believe Rintaro was capable of being so cruel. I’ll never forgive him for what he did,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “Are they really like this? Is everyone in the Palace truly so heartless? Will I… never find love of my own, too?”

“Oh, Tobio,” you reached your arms out, crushing him to your chest. The Prince’s tears dampened your dress, though you paid it no mind. He was too young for all this hurt – this war over the crown. He was too good for a cruel place like this. “It will get easier someday.”

Fisting your skirt, he buried his face to your neck, his whole body shivering under you. “I never wanted to be a Prince. I-I wanted to keep playing sports and go pro someday. There’s a whole world out there for me to see, and I’m so afraid I’ll never become the person I want to be. I’m afraid I might turn out like my brothers.”

You pulled back to make him look at you. Cupping his face with your hands, you shook your head firmly. “That’s not true, Tobio. You’re already a thousand times better than your brothers. Look, you’re sweet, kind, and passionate. Who says you don’t deserve to achieve your dreams? You can be who you want to be. You can see the world. I promise you that I’ll support you in anything you want to do. Anything.”

“Really?” grinning, he wiped his cheeks free from his tears. “Then… will you come to my game? There’s a match and the Coach just added me to the team. It… Well, it might be a good opportunity for you and everyone else to show you’re unaffected by the scandal, too.”

“Oh, forget the scandal. I only want to see you play,” you tell him, and the Prince’s innocent smile is so big and bright it soothed all the aches in your heart. You promised to yourself, then and there, that you would do what it takes to protect that smile. “Now, should we get to this painting?”

That talk with Tobio filled you with unwavering resolve.

The poor boy didn’t deserve to spend a minute longer in the Palace. It simply wasn’t a place for him. He needed to be out there, living his life to the fullest, and to be surrounded by good people who were healthy for him. Not his greedy, cheating brothers, and most especially not with the heartless Queen as his only mother figure.

You had to do something for him. You had to weaken the throne even further, exploit their weakness and make the monarchy crumble. If not for you, then you would do it for Tobio.

It was the reason you’d gained enough courage to dial the number weighing heavily in your pockets long before Itachiyama. That piece of paper Kiyoomi slipped into your coat just before you parted ways. You should’ve known it back then – Kiyoomi was somehow always one step ahead of you. It’s like he knew what you wanted to happen before you said out loud. What you needed before you told him what it was. And you’d done it – scheduled the meeting, hired a private chauffer, and rented out a restaurant in the middle of nowhere at the dead time of the night before you could change your mind.

Do it For Tobio. For Kiyoomi. For you.

He arrived not a minute later than the designated time. He stood tall and confident – seemingly unbothered by the mass of hate he’d accumulated. Sauntering in through the doors with a smirk, he let out a low whistle, impressed with the lack of people. You had promised him privacy, after all, and if you wanted to succeed in your plans, you couldn’t be shy in splurging a little bit of money.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, was it?”

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow, his smile growing wider as he pulled out his chair. He’s handsome, with a smile you wouldn’t deem trustworthy, and he held an aura to him that warned you to tread carefully. He was, after all, the man who singlehandedly exposed your husband’s affair. “I am flattered by your efforts, though I must admit. I did not expect you would reach out to me of all people. I assumed you wanted my head.”

You offer him a polite smile. “You have it all wrong. In fact, I’m thankful for the opportunity you’ve presented to me,” leaning forward, you slid a thin envelope his way. Inside it contained a document of your own words, one you trusted Kuroo would twist to sound more convincing. “I want you to publish another article.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. He waited for a beat, a moment or two, for you to say you didn’t mean it. You could’ve been joking. But you hold his gaze, your smile just as firm, refusing to waver from his intense gaze. “With all due respect, Ma’am, I think I’m already in enough trouble for that last one.”

Fair enough. You didn’t think he’d be that easy to convince.

Reaching beside you, you pulled out a case and clicked open the locks for him. If Kuroo was surprised before, he was most definitely flabbergasted by now. Wads of cash piled against each other stared back at him – temping him to reach out and take it. Smiling to yourself, you gently nudged the case in his direction.

“This is half of what I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you twice as much once you’ve done your part,” you promised, “You don’t need to fear, Mr. Kuroo. I’ll guarantee your protection if you do this for me.”

Kuroo chuckled to himself. Shutting the case back shut, he was quick to slide it to his side – deal done and closed. “If a lovely Princess is asking so nicely, I can’t possibly turn it down, can I?” pulling out a small notebook from his coat, Kuroo uncaps his pen with a twist of his teeth. “So let’s get into it. What story do you want, Ma’am? Do you want the truth or… something more scandalous than your husband’s affair?”

“I want you to ruin Iris,” you declared, “Inside that envelope is a list of people the Princess frequently interacts with, as well as records from her history dating back from when she moved here with mother. I want you to look into everything and pick apart whatever could destroy her reputation. There are secrets that she keeps, and I want them out in the public.”

Kuroo doesn’t bother writing that down. “Her reputation is well ruined already, Ma’am. I doubt much could make it worse.”

Your brow shoots up. “Are you doubting my abilities or questioning my demands?”

“Neither,” he reassured with a mischievous grin, “I shall write something about her, then, but what about the Crown Prince? Do I still have the assurance of your protection if he comes after me for messing with his precious little thing?”

Oh, please. His ‘precious little thing’ doesn’t even want him.

Spinning your wedding finger with your thumb, you stared at it. “Tell me, Kuroo. You’re a journalist, one that wasn’t invited at that private party my husband was in. So why were you there that night? Most importantly, how did you get their photos?” you brought your gaze back up to him, “You’re not secretly planning for the downfall of the crown, are you?”

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness. But to answer your question, then no, I wasn’t invited. I wouldn’t even know a single thing about their affair if it wasn’t for one of you.”

“One of us?” you echoed, “Are you saying someone in the royal family hired you as well?”

“Indeed. Though I must say, I never expected working with just one of you could have me set for life. What more if I teamed up with you too?”

So your theories were right. That article didn’t appear out of nowhere – someone wanted it to happen. “It was Iris, wasn’t it? She asked you to publish that because she knew I was with her husband… but that wouldn’t make any sense. That article puts her in a bad light. It couldn’t be her, right?”

“You’ll be surprised, Ma’am, but it was not the Princess,” he clarified.

Kuroo’s face pinched in contemplation, and then suddenly, pulls out a different phone from his pockets. It’s a beat-up iPhone with its battery nearly dead, but with a few clicks here and there, the video played loud and clear. The camera is shaky, the angles all wrong. Whoever recorded it clearly seemed to be inebriated. Yet there it was – the unmistakable masculine voice groaning, the slapping of skin against each other, and a high-pitched womanly moan. The camera caught nothing but long, blond hair flowing on top of her bouncing breasts before the camera was flipped, finally showing the culprit –

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu gripped Yuki’s hips, shoving the phone between their bodies to show the pistoning of his cock in and out of her. There was no point denying it now. Both their faces were clear from the video, and if this got out…

Kuroo paused the video. “I’m not supposed to be showing you this, but the Prince hasn’t kept up to his end of the bargain, so I might as well ask for your help, too,” shutting the phone off, Kuroo rested his chin on his hands. “That night, he slept with an intoxicated actress and accidentally filmed themselves in the act. The Prince was drunk himself, made the mistake of posting that video online, and merely eighteen minutes later, any traces of their sex tape disappeared. Curious?”

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit.

“He called you to write about Iris and Rintaro to cover up his scandal.”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo! And he succeeded, even if it was an impulsive decision on his side. Still, the Prince paid me handsomely because he was desperate, but he hasn’t offered me protection like he promised. I’m being hunted down by the Queen’s goons as we speak. Isn’t that why you offered to have me chauffeured here?”

You knew Kuroo prioritized his safety over money due to his current predicament. It was the reason why you risked sneaking out of the Palace and meeting him alone. His terms were clear – no witnesses, no guards, just you and him. You would keep to your word if it meant cornering Iris, but with Atsumu and that poor actress thrown into the mix… things just got more complicated.

Reaching out for Kuroo, you squeezed his hand. “You will be safe with me. I promise you this.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

You glanced at the iPhone between you two. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kuroo, but now that you know he’d do pretty much anything for money, you couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t just Atsumu’s reputation you were worried about – firstly, Rintaro would kill him if he found out it was all his doing. Second, that poor actress. She rose to fame in her career recently; this would ruin her image. If things took the wrong turn, who was to stop the Queen from forcing the two to get married if that tape was leaked? You couldn’t risk any cracks in your plan.

“Kuroo, may I have that phone?”

“It’s all yours if you throw in another five grand, Princess.”

“Consider it mine then.”

You and Kuroo left immediately after everything was settled. Just as promised, you would cover all his travel expenses. He would stay overseas to ensure his protection while he reached out to his connections to get all the information he needed, and once the article was ready, he’d publish it and disappear from the media. You covered that too – he was paid enough to live comfortably while in hiding. Now, you only needed to wait for everything to go according to plan.

First, the downfall of Iris. Next, her separation with Kiyoomi without having to let Rin ascend to the throne. And once she’s finally out of the picture, you’ll move on to your beloved husband. You’ll seduce him, have him fall completely to your whim, make him realize he could never have anyone like you again – and once he’s wrapped around your finger, you’ll plea for divorce.

A heart for a heart. A marriage for a marriage.

And if the odds play into your favor at the end of it all, there’s only one destination in mind: Kiyoomi’s farmhouse in Itachiyama.

You smiled to yourself – it would work out. You had a good feeling about it. Kiyoomi is supporting you and acting as your spy, Kita is backing you up on the grounds for divorce, and the nation has unwaveringly showed their support for you in these trying times. After all, you were just the poor, neglected wife. They expected you to spend your days crying and chasing after your deceitful husband, or to simply take it all – be silent and smile for the cameras.

Fuck what the Queen said. You won’t let her win.

Driving back to the Palace, you glanced at the time. It’s almost four in the morning, and soon, Her Majesty would be beginning her routine and expecting her daily calls from the Princes. Pressing harder on the gas, you sped up until a glint catches your eye. You glance at the rearview mirror, eyes widening at the fast approaching car from behind – a sleek, black car with the royal family’s crest on it. Shit. But – it couldn’t be the royal guards. You’d made sure no one would see you, and Airi had gotten your note to slip some sleeping pills into Rintaro’s tea so you could sneak out. Kiyoomi was informed of your plans, too, and he’d reassured he’d hold the fort down while you dealt with Kuroo.

Unless Iris had snooped through his phone and found everything out, then –

You wasted no time. You drove faster, reaching for the gun in your glove compartment as the roaring of the car behind you moved in closer and closer. Heart pounding in your chest, you speed-dialed Kiyoomi, praying to any God who was listening that he would pick up. It couldn’t be Iris, it shouldn’t be her. God forbid she does anything to provoke you into pulling the trigger.

Infidelity was one thing, but the murder of a royal family member was not something one could merely frown at. You didn’t want to be thrown into jail.

The call did not push through.

“Fuck!” you slammed your feet on the gas, watching as the car sped up even more until it was now next to you. You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the mammoth of trees and a never ending road with darkness clouding the path. Just then, the windows rolled down, and you waited with bated breath as the face finally came into view.

Dark hair was the first thing you saw. The windows rolled down, down, down, until you were staring deep into your husband’s eyes. Brow cocked, he smirked, raising the phone to show he’d been calling you – that’s why you couldn’t call Kiyoomi. Suna was interrupting the line. Shit, how was he even awake right now?

Moreover, how did he find you?

You scowled to yourself. There was no outrunning him now. Suna was a ridiculously good driver, and there was no way you would ever use a gun on him. Steeling yourself, you forced yourself to regulate your breathing – your efforts boon when Suna suddenly pressed on forward until he was a feet away from you, maneuvered his car with the hood facing your direction, and then just – stopped.

Bracing your hands on the wheel, you forced all your energy to release its power on the slamming of your brakes. The skidding of your car squeaked for what seemed like minutes until finally – finally – your came to a halt. You were breathing hard, the back of your head aching from the impact of it crashing to the headrest. Meanwhile, Suna opened his car doors in slow, languid movements, the ends of his leather black trench coat hitting the pavement. With nothing but the headlights of his car illuminating him, he looked more like an omen of death than a Prince – dressed in a white turtleneck, black pants, and a long coat that highlighted his tall figure. He looked ominous, like he carried sorrow and pain with him – pain that he was about to make you feel.

Because you knew – of course you knew; you knew him better than anyone – that the placid smile he wore was anything but.

He slammed the car doors shut. Leaning against the hood, Suna’s gloved hands reached for a lighter in his pocket as he lit his cigarette, the stick hanging from between his lips. As soon as it flickered, he pocketed the lighter back, using two of his fingers to make a ‘come hither’ gesture at you.

Clearly, you spoke too early. The odds were not in your favor.

You exited your vehicle, hands gripping the edges of the door as you gathered to courage to take one more step towards him. It wasn’t that you were afraid – he wouldn’t hurt you, not really. But too much could be taken away from you in such little time – Kuroo couldn’t have gone far, and Atsumu’s sex tape was still in the backseat. You didn’t trust Rintaro to not ruin your plans. And you wouldn’t let him, not now when you were so close to victory.

One step, two steps, three steps – your heels clicked against the road as you walked, making sure to keep your chin pointed north. Hips swaying to the side, you finally ended up before him – right between his spread legs – your husband leaning back at the hood of his car whilst he sized you up, his free hand resting behind him.

“Funny seeing you here,” he drawled out, his voice thick with barely-held back rage. “They told me you were sleeping, but last time I checked, driving while falling asleep was illegal.”

“Cheating is also illegal.”

“Your comebacks are getting old, my love.”

Your head snapped to his direction. He hadn’t called you that in forever, not since you’d returned from your honeymoon. To have him call you that now, with such a deeply rich, smooth voice and sounding like he’d just woken up, all breathy and rasp – could it be possible to fuck someone to death?

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” tipping his head to the side, Suna’s lips slowly formed into a smirk. He took a drag of his cigarette, keeping his eyes on yours as he wrapped those lips around the stick – delicately and tantalizingly slow – just like how he did when he worshipped you in bed. You breathed out hard and attempted to take a step back, but he was having none of it. Swiftly, he’d tugged on your shirt to pull you close to him, causing you to stumble and fall into his lap. Above you, your husband’s chest rumbled with amusement.

“Look at you. Always so weak for me.”

He leaned in close, his scent of smoke and expensive woodsy perfume enveloping you. It’s addicting, just as he is, and your knees grew weak. Your legs slid down just as Suna wraps a strong arm around your waist to hitch you back in place, your core resting above his thigh. There, he spreads you open with just his knees, his warm lips suddenly attaching themselves to your neck. You gasped out, hands falling to his shoulders in a measly attempt to pull him away – and oh.

Suna had different plans in mind.

“You,” he breathed in your ear, his gloved fingers popping the button of your blouse one by one. “cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness. You can slip in as many drugs you want in my drinks, you can kill me a hundred times and fuck me over again and again, but don’t you dare forget,” growling lowly in your ear, your husband took your chin in his hands and forced you to gaze deep into his eyes – pools of hazel swirling with need and wrath – “Not even death can do us part. I’ll keep on looking for you even if you try to hide at the ends of the earth.”

[kaszuma]

Bad Habits | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 6 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: Soshiro wanted to set things right by you, so he planned a date that would've gone perfectly. Had a Kaiju not appeared in front of you.

warnings: Mentions of Blood, heavy detail on Injury and Pain. Breathlessness and lots of claustrophobia related to crowds, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Slight Kn8 Manga Spoilers

wc: 6,552

–

note: Please inform me if I missed any warnings, It has descriptive injuries so I don't want to trigger anyone who's willing to read this.

Part 7 will be a direct continuation of this. So that's why I dubbed it as a Hurt/No Comfort fic for now. The comfort will come in another part because things have been going too smoothly in the relationship. And I don't want that. Anyways, look forward to the next part. I will be adding a tags list. So if you want to be tagged. Please tell me.

Also, thank you for a hundred followers 🫶

–

Today was the day Soshiro had decided to finally make it up to you.

After weeks of moving between bases. Handling Number 10’s strange quirks in its new prototype suit. It had been an understatement to say that he had kept himself rather busy in the wake of his occupation. His attention often divided between the lousy paperwork stacked against him, as well as his individual training.

One that he had always upheld to keep his body sturdy and his reflexes sharp. Not once acting careless in his response to a Kaiju attack. Especially now where he was equipped with a powerful and sentient combat suit, bloodthirsty for war. Willing to pick a fight with anything remotely breathing in his direction.

By all means, Soshiro could not afford to slack off. And if there was a miniscule chance that he did, he'd be minced alive for sure.

Just when his hard work had started to pay off too.

Now that he had been recognized as a numbers wielder no less. He'd be one of the few melee specialists that Japan could rely on in the case of an emergency. The proof of his existence. That he wasn't just a reject of the Hoshina Family's line of descendants.

That he was more than capable to wield a blade that could slay Kaijus that came after him. And he had succeeded. He had fulfilled his place in the hierarchy. His place solidified beside Captain Ashiro who was an even stronger ally than he was.

But despite his successes. Despite the satisfaction he got from climbing to the top with only the swing of his blade.

That had not been enough for him.

It had not been enough to prove his existence to the world.

And although that had been a major goal of his. To surpass people's expectations of his limits. His boon to keep fighting. To keep swinging his sword despite the odds stacked against him, had also been the downfall of many past relationships that could not blossom because it had gotten in its way.

And you had been the first to stay.

The first to understand his sentiments.The first to clear a path for him when everyone else had all but given up.

And yet here he was. Being a stellar lover and prioritizing everything else above you.

It had been weeks. Practically an entire month since he's spent some quality time with you. Sharing the occasional kiss in the hallways where you'd start your day off. Or acknowledging each other briefly when he had been stuck in the confines of the training rooms.

Beating the lessons right into rookies' bodies when you'd pass by. Or better yet, the daily coffee you had somehow managed to squeeze in despite your equally tight schedule. His favorite blend had always been waiting for him. Ready at his office on the days he burned the very wicks of the midnight oil.

And what had he done in return?

Nothing.

Not since that incident with Kaiju no. 10 at least. That of which he worked so hard to erase any evidence left in its wake. The fake report had at least been a piece of cake to do. And they had to do over the entire prototype testing just to make sure Number 10 was usable in its current state.

And unfortunately for him, it proved to be a much more difficult task to complete. Day by day he had not once made progress in raising the Suit’s combat power. Leaving Kaiju no 10 to mock his defenses and other battle related tactics whenever it could. But that had been the least of his worries.

In all honesty, he had been feeling guilty since that day.

Although he'd be remiss to say he didn't enjoy the feeling. Soshiro had not been in the right sound of mind when he found himself getting closer to you. Drunken by your scent, he had practically seen images flash by his mind. Courtesy by the Kaiju that had seen through his desires. And one thing led straight to the next. He found himself in a troublesome situation that he had been afraid to know the consequences of.

He had desired her. Yes. That much was clear. But he wanted the relationship to evolve slowly. At your pace. One that made you most comfortable.

But he had breached that space. The inch you had given him had turned into a mile. And he was lucky he still held some sort of restraint before he did something stupid and regretted his past actions.

And somehow, you still forgave him.

You enjoyed yourself even. Welcoming him with open arms for the next time around when they had managed to squeeze in the time between work. Open to the idea of a more sensual intimacy. In the privacy of someplace else. And Soshiro had wanted that too.

He wanted to correct his haste. To properly love you right.

But not everything had been picture perfect in the way he had planned. His bad habits showed in the ways he'd prioritize everything but you. And just when he built up his courage–Built up the resolve to face you. To do right by you.

Of course, things just had to get in his way.

Things always got in his way before he could properly apologize and make it up to you. Or atleast, that was the excuse he'd find himself feeling guilty of.

And that is where he found himself outside the premises of the Tachikawa base. Strangely out of uniform and in his civvies that he had managed to find beneath the sweatpants in his closet. Dappered in a simple black turtleneck and a white overcoat. Befitting of the cooler weather Japan had been facing in recent times.

He had been waiting for you to show up with a picnic basket in hand. A few paperback novels that he thinks you might enjoy. Added with a few sweets that he hoped would lighten up your day perhaps.

The plan had been simple.

He’d already done the nerve-wracking part. Stopping you midway as you finished giving him the stack of blueprints for the Combat Suit you had worked on upgrading. His hand reached to touch the soft skin of your knuckles. An action that made you look back at him in turn.

“Is something wrong?” You had asked curiously. The softness in your voice remained. One that made Soshiro want to melt into a puddle.

He smiled. Somehow the words got stuck on his tongue. And he had to remind himself that you were his lover. Who of course would agree to a date. Should he suggest it, Right?

He gulps. Suddenly feeling a little irritated at the way his stomach had dropped and a plethora of nervous butterflies had resurfaced.

Normally he'd have no problem taking out hordes of Yoju that came his way. Boasting the highest individual kill count for slaying midsized Kaiju of his generation. Yet somehow, his reason had gona askew. And he found this situation a little more terrifying than he anticipated.

“Hey, I was thinking..”

“Uh oh- That's not a good sign.” Your comment makes him smile. His eyes rolling to give your shoulder a playful squeeze.

“-That you and I need to have a talk.”

“About what?” You had replied with a tilt on your head.

“I got a few paperbacks in the mail yesterday. I was hoping we could grab a bite to eat while we read through ‘em?” He smiled. His usual grin did not falter in the way he spoke to you. Though you could tell that he had an inkling of nervousness by the way he reached up to scratch the side of his cheek.

“Oh. And here I thought I was in trouble.” You chuckle. “So you're finally inviting me out on a date, Vice Captain?”

He had moved to stand much closer to you. Hand already at the shape of your hip, habitually writing his name on the waistband of uniform. “Is that a no I hear from ya’”

“Now when did I say that?” And it makes you smile knowing he had been trying despite the busy schedule he had.

You had long since understood his place in the hierarchy. Soshiro may have not realized it, but he was far too important of a person in the Defense Force to have been kept away from duty.

His life alone had been the cost of a thousand who'd live due to his sacrifices. And whether or not his insecurities had blocked his view of his own self-worth. You were able to see it clearly.

So despite the difficulties. Despite the yearning you felt for his proximity You did the usual and prioritized his work. Letting him handle things when command had already put so much weight into his daily responsibilities. Not that he seemed affected by it, no doubt already used to the pressure of a hectic battlefield. Much less a hectic work environment.

But of course, you wouldn't reject an offer out on a date with your lover. Not when he so sweetly asked.

And if he had the occasional free time to invite you out. Who were you to say no to his offer?

“Soshiro!” You had called out. Appearing just beside him who stood nearest the entrance of the underground metro station. And he smiled turning towards you with his usual cheeky and cat-like grin.

“You shoulda’ texted me. I would've picked you up by the train stations.” He had moved his free hand to pinch your cheeks. And it makes you chuckle. Revealing yourself completely to him.

Where his eyes had raked over the surface of the cute outfit you decided to purchase the day before. Hand already twirling a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. Admiring your very soul. Your entirety in front of him.

“And miss your startled face? Fat chance I'd miss that opportunity.” You laughed.

Soshiro had rolled his eyes in turn. His heart pounding as his free hand immediately intertwined with yours.

“If it makes ya’ happy Sweetheart.” He didn't waste this opportunity to gently pull you close. Kissing your temple which had been nearest his lips. “You look pretty.”

His compliments had made you brighten. Your face visibly beamed when his eyes drank your figure. “Damn straight. I wasn't about to let you one up me in the looks department.”

“Alright, alright.” He found himself chuckling. “Let's get moving before the desserts I bought ya’ go bad.”

You had half a mind to drag your feet while he took you out of the metro line. Acting stubborn just to stall and ruffle his feathers for a bit. As payback for neglecting you all those days ago.

But you had decided against it, the crowded train station was far too busy in the early hours of the afternoon. And you would not risk losing each other and wasting the rare day Soshiro had all planned out for the both of you to do.

“Lead the way.” You had smiled, giddy at the mere thought of a time well spent together. And Soshiro had shared that very sentiment. Already leading you away from the busy horde where lines of people had been waiting for the next train stop.

Upon your words, he had gently walked forward. Leading you by the hand.

His grip on you was firm and you can see the way his back had engulfed and weaved through the crowd much more easily than you ever had. Broad in his strides as he tried not to go too fast. Matching your pace since he knew you weren't as built in stamina as he was.

You had admired the little details of his nape. The one mole peaking through the skin of his turtleneck, where his hair had shown every detail of his jugular. One that you had marveled at when he wasn't looking.

Just as you were about to offer your help. Reaching for the sling of the basket on his free hand.

A shiver ran down your spine. The hand that had tried to reach for the basket had paused in heavy response.

And you had suddenly flinched as a loud gust of wind had blown past you. Making the indoor lights of the metro begin to pop and flicker abnormally. An eerie buzz emitting from each light source as if the electricity had all short circuited, simultaneously.

The temperature underground had strangely heightened. Unusual for the cool metro station during this time of day.

And the crowd that had busied themselves passing each other by, had all but stopped. With people's stares directed behind the both of you in a frozen and frightened state. You look around, almost confused. And Soshiro had gripped his hand harder against yours. As if he already knew the exact dread that overcame him.

The exact thing that had been staring right back at them.

And somehow you had that inkling too.

But denial had only been your first problem. And the rest of your body seemed to know the truth. Your very palms began sweating like bullets, and you had hesitantly looked behind you. To prove to yourself that it had not been what you think it was.

But Soshiro who had somehow read your mind. Had moved much quicker than you had.

Pulling you behind him, already pushing you to the exit when people had started panicking. Screams had been the accompaniment of hasty footsteps. With people of all different ages, running in the same direction. Away from the stairs leading down the metro line.

A mere glimpse is all it took for the hair on your skin to rise. And the face of a humanoid Kaiju had looked in your direction. Its skin peeled like oranges, unlike the gritty leathery texture that surrounded its cheeks. And although it had a terrifying grin on its face. It remained calm. Observant. It seemed ecstatic in the way it reveled in the attention it had gotten. Whilst Soshiro had pulled you from your trance.

“Run. Get going!”

Soshiro had strangely screamed. Already pushing you to evacuate, weary that the Kaiju could attack you at any given moment should it wish to. But the Kaiju had a strange way of showing its excitement. Gurgling at every noise it heard. And Soshiro's yell had all been reduced to a mere whisper against your ear. The sound of a panicked crowd was all too encompassing for you to actually make out his words.

Soshiro had kept a firm grip on your shoulders. Still trailing close behind you with his gaze fixated on the Humanoid Kaiju.

Its legs had hovered mere inches above the ground. Crinkled like an old vegetable that was left out in the freezer for too long. It had double the arms, one that resembled old branches with no leaves. And although it looked sickly and frail, he was sure the damn thing was capable of major damage given the right opportunity.

But instead of grabbing onto the nearest person like Soshiro had anticipated. It surveyed the area. Weary of its nearest surroundings.

It's molars and gums chattering against each other. Echoing throughout the underground halls of the metro station. It looked as if it was occupied with something. A far off look in its beady eyes. As if it were communicating with someone.

Perhaps it had something to do with Number 9? Shit.

If that's the case, Soshiro needed to get you out of here as soon as possible.

“I can't get through. They're all pushing..” You had gasped. Feeling yourself stumble back when another person pulled at your shoulder and leaped forward. Using you as leverage to get to the exit.

Soshiro, who had seen this, was quick to catch you before you could fall. Your back against his chest in a protective stance.

He couldn't move. Not yet at least.

More than anything he'd like to handle that thing as quickly as possible. But to leave you nearby in such close proximity too? There's no way in hell he was going to let that happen. So all he could do was fixate his eyes on that Kaiju.

This thing was clearly sentient. Soshiro had seen the way it lingered to read one of the signs nearest the exit. But I didn't seem interested in conversing, let alone leave if he had asked. And he wasn't about to take his chances.

He needed to get rid of that thing now.

“Hoshina here.” He had fished out the white earpiece that he hid on his overcoat's back pocket. Pressing the small item down to his ear to contact operations.

“There's a Daikaiju sighting in the Tachikawa-Kita Station. Requesting permission to use Number 10 to neutralize it.” He spoke seriously. Unlike the usual light hearted conversations you'd have with him. And it makes you stare up at him with raised eyebrows.

It had been weeks since you had worked on Number 10. It was still far too early to be used as a plausible weapon out in the field. And yet here he was, indirectly telling you that he had worn it out in public.

“You what?” You had gasped out. Eyes blown wide whilst his hand remained on the small of your back.

Much to your dismay, Soshiro had not answered you.

Simply moving you closer to the wall, to let other people get through. His hand still pressed against the intercoms whilst he waited for a reply from Operations.

Soshiro had been focused on shielding you for the most part. The crowd was pushing, but it seems they had still been making progress in evacuating the area. Save for a few rumbles that had happened when the Kaiju had suddenly implanted its branch-like fingers onto one of the pillars. Cracking the surface of the solid cement that held the pillar in place. And you couldn't help but worry at the close proximity you both had been.

Right in range of where the Kaiju was looking at.

“Permission granted.” Okonogi’s faint voice could be heard. Likely already booting up Number 10's system underneath Soshiro’s civvies. The bioweapon would slowly regain energy which kept it from its usual conscious state.

“Do you, or Do you not have Number 10 on?” You had asked incredulously. Prying his arms off of you to peel off his shirt. And his larger hand stops you before you could see the peak of red in the place of where his skin should be.

“As a precaution m'dear.” His reply was immediate.

And he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. Ushering you forward along with the thinning crowd. The stairway had all been emptied now. Save for a few runaways that had tripped or were pushed earlier.

“Higher ups wanted me to get used to it. Releasing this thing’s combat power, I mean.” His voice had been an octave lower. His smile, although present, had not been enough to reassure you. And you had a feeling he was trying not to have you panic on him.

“That is stupid. Command shouldn't have let you wear it. Number 10 is still unstable. What if you go berserk and lose control?” You sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“You did try to argue with command right?”

…

“Right?”

Soshiro did not answer you. Already pacing to drag you out of here before things could escalate.

Meanwhile, you had all but looked at him once over. Now it made sense why he chose to wear an overcoat when the weather had only been a little chilly this afternoon. It had surprised you that he was able to hide its tail from emerging from his legs. But then again, he probably had his blades tucked away in that too.

“Soshiro..”

“Listen, I'll explain things later. Take this and get to the nearest shelter. I ain’t havin Number 10 going berserk. I'll be fine. Just let me handle the Kaiju first, okay-” His sentence was cut short by your scream.

A broken chunk of the large pillar had been thrown towards you. And it had startled you enough to drop the basket he handed you. Soshiro had been quick in his motion to shield you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulder to let his back hit the brunt of the pillar.

But before it could hit and crush the two of you to bits. The faint sound of number 10 chuckled inSoshiro's suit. And its weaponized tail lashed out to strike the pillar back. Destroying it before it could scratch you both from its debris.

The sharp end had all but ripped Soshiros overcoat to shreds. And he was quick to remove the unnecessary fabric on top of his combat suit. Revealing the distinct eye hollowed out in the middle of his chest.

“Lucky this bonehead woke up on time.” Soshiro had chuckled darkly. And it was followed by its immediate reply. Tail haphazardly swinging around from behind him.

“Stop with your meaningless trifles and get to fighting swordsman! My patience is thinning.” It sounded almost like a child. Though its voice had been a deep and rambunctious chatter like usual.

“You heard the darn thing.” He sighs, pushing you forward before another attack could come in.

And you shook your head, placing your firm hands against the suit of his chest. Just beside Number 10's glowing eye. Your gaze fixated on his usual smile, one that you had grown accustomed to hearing cheery laughs from. “Are you serious? This thing isn't ready for an actual fight.”

“Do not mock us Woman. By the time you have escaped our opponent would have been ripped to shreds by me.” It screamed.

Making you roll your eyes in turn. And Soshiro had all but chuckled. Already letting you get a head start as you stepped out of the underground Metro line. “Just go. I promise you I'll be jus’ fine.”

“I’ll come find you later.” He had spoken. Already turning his heel to grab the swords he had hidden on his back.

You knew this was his job. The unavoidable was bound to happen. And as much it pained you to leave him alone with a Daikaiju with only a misaligned prototype of a suit as an ally. There was bound to be trouble afoot. But what can you do other than run?

You weren't a fighter like he was.

Your use was only in the presence of a laboratory, as a technician. Paving the way to enhance his equipment. To heighten his chances of survival, even if it was a measly one percent of it.

That had been better than none after all.

So with a heavy heart. You nod. Glancing at his form for a second longer before you began running. Taking careful steps to the opposite direction where you knew the nearest shelter would be at. There was never a shortage of Defense Force Officers there. Maybe they'd be willing to let a few assist Soshiro before things could go awry.

Captain Ashiro had always made quick work of any Kaiju that appeared. The third had always been quick to respond to action. Not once arriving late when the Tokyo district needed them the most.

Soshiro would just have to hold out before then.

Deal with Number 10's strange habits and hopefully manage to unleash the suit's combat power which had proven to be a tricky feat for a while now. And if he were lucky, maybe he wouldn't need backup at all.

The optimistic side of you wished to see him make quick work of the Kaiju. Have him return to you, maybe with a couple or bruises to sport but nothing serious.

He'd smile at you. Holding peace signs with his fingertips out as a form of comfort. To tell you that he had been fine and the Kaiju had easily accepted defeat, ending the story in a clean neutralization.

You'd even be willing to hear Number 10's inflated boasting in the background. Telling you that they had sliced it to ribbons before you even had the chance to reach the shelter.

At least that's what you hoped to imagine.

Just as soon as you arrived at the familiar street. You passed by the multitude of shopping districts in the area. And you see the familiar crowd of people being ushered into the sturdy underground bunker of the shelter. Far away from the premises of the Metro Line where Soshiro’s battle had taken place.

You had immediately stepped up. Trying to fall in line with the rest of the crowded spaces that led up to the entrances of the bunker.

But somehow the temperature rose once more. And you feel the familiar rumble in your chest as a gust of wind had blown behind you. Your hair going in all sorts of directions before your eyes settled on the familiar looking Kaiju floating in the very back of the crowd. Nearing you inch by inch.

What was it doing here?

Everyone who had equally felt the same tension had been paralyzed from fear. Its beady gaze had been burning holes unto the crowd. And its neck cracked as it tried to tilt its head to the side.

This had been enough to get rid of the stupor on everyone's expressions. And another wave of panic ensued. Leaving you and a few others to be pushed around in the wake of everyone's panic.

“Report. Kaiju has been spotted here in Shelter 1121. Requesting permission to engage.”

You had heard one of the Defense Force Officers yell. The few that had been present were already aiming their firearms at the chattering Kaiju. It's head convulsing as it floated ever so closer towards the crowd. Its branch-like fingertips grazed the road. Eerily dragging its long limbs down the cement. Its pace is slow and tantalizing as if to tease your inevitable demise.

You had groaned.

Feeling yourself be pushed down to the ground. Palms hitting the coarse texture of the cement roads. Knees scraping the rough surface as you stopped yourself from falling face flat onto the floor. Luckily the crowd had been mindful enough not to trample you. With most of the citizens already crowding the entrance as Soldiers had blocked the Kaiju's path from going any further.

But you saw the way it moved.

In a blink of an eye the Kaiju had made quick work of the Officers. Sweeping them off like insects thrown to the side. Their bodies hitting the nearest surface available in the area. And you had tried to back away. The itching pain that had surrounded your knees was like putting salt on an open wound. Still fresh from the poor landing you had from earlier.

But there was no time to focus on that. Its beady gaze already staring at you and his next target had been made clear.

Just as you had tried to get up, you saw the way a car had been thrown right above your head. And you had been a hair away from being hit by the force of its pitch. Landing on a few people who had crowded up against the entrance of the base.

Likely crushing a few people in the process.

Shit.

The dizzy unease you felt had all but dazed your mind's eye. And somehow through the fire and the panicked screams. A force had thrown you off the ground.

And suddenly your body had slumped against the nearest wall. Your back landing on the very glass of a fashion boutique. Your weight had shattered its surface upon impact when you were thrown against it.

A shockwave on the ground had likely thrown you a few feet back. And you whimpered. Feeling the shards of glass puncture your shoulder and arms. A few cutting your legs that had shamelessly bleeded against the floor.

You could feel a much larger injury on the small of your back. But as it stands, you couldn't really focus on a specific area. Not when it had hurt all over.

It had hurt to stand up. Let alone to crawl away.

You were not in the safety of the base. And Soshiro had not been here beside you. Even if it hurts like hell. You knew that you had to move. You had to get away and find some help before the situation got worse.

But somehow, it had only gotten much more difficult to breathe. Your eyes which had blurred from the blood flow on your head had suddenly cleared a little bit. Just enough for you to inspect your surroundings. And you noticed it had gotten significantly darker upon your landing. Everything, even within the confines of the boutique, had been covered in a thin layer of smoke that you could've sworn wasn't here before

The scent had been weird. Both earthy and a little rusty for your liking. But it had a distinct bitter smell, like something had gone rotten in the area.

And suddenly your throat lurched. Coughing at the sheer difficulty your lungs had inhaled. Like suddenly oxygen had all but ran out and you were left with a gas that had been invading your system entirely.

Your hand had shakily reached up your throat. Trying not to panic as the breaths you made had gotten shorter and shorter.

Was this poison?

Did the Kaiju have anything to do with this?

Where was Soshiro? Was he dead?

Only panicked thoughts plagued your mind. Not entirely aware that the pain had made you almost delirious as you try not to cry from all the overwhelming sensations you felt.

Your only thought had been to gather your bearings and find Soshiro. Damned the injuries that weighed your body. Damned the poison gas that made you want to throw up your lungs.

All you needed was Soshiro.

Yet somehow, you find yourself back on the ground. With your cheek pressed up against the shattered glass. Eyes slowly fluttering to a close from the sheer exhaustion alone. And your body, had never accepted sleep more than this moment had.

–

Who knows how long you've been laying there. A few gunshots sounded out from the distance before it ultimately quieted down. A roar rumbled to the far east of where you had rested. But the sounds had gone silent a few minutes after.

And here you were, dizzy from a concussion. Bleeding from your arms and legs. And your breaths barely audible from the amount of toxic gas you had inhaled.

You didn't know whether or not your lungs were barely functioning anymore. But with the slow rise and labored falls of your chest, you were sure you had still been okay. Though it's a miracle you were still half awake.

You could still make the odd gasps and silent plea for help. So you couldn't sleep. Not yet at least. Not when help could so easily arrive and your chances of actually surviving would lower.

The smoke had not cleared up from where you had laid. And for a moment, you see the shadow of a figure step hastily through the broken boutique. Staring down at you with gritted teeth.

“Found you..”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly the blinding numbness had been replaced with a fresh bout of soreness and burning pains. And Soshiro, who had stood above your half-conscious body, had stumbled a bit.

Not used to the way your body stood so still. Arched upward from the shard of glass punctured nearest the back of your waist. His breath was stolen away, as he could only imagine how the pain must’ve felt when you were thrown off balance to crash a building no less.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, c'mere.” Soshiro's familiar voice was much clearer now that he had stepped much closer to you.

The clang of his blades had dropped beside you as his hands were already fumbling to remove the straps of his respiratory mask. Rushing to place it atop your mouth and nose. Hoping it would help you breathe properly.

“Someone get the medic. Get the medic.”

Soshiro screamed. Glancing behind him for a moment before his focus had been fixated on you. His other hand gingerly lifting your head from the ground to assess the injuries you sustained.

And his eyes. The wine color of his eyes…

You could've sworn it had darkened. Brimmed with the fear of losing you. A cacophony of unshed tears that would usually be closed and cat-like in its features.

“..Soshiro?” You croaked out. Voice a little raspy from whatever gas that Kaiju had decked out. And your lover immediately pulled you closer. Rocking your body to keep you awake.

His first instinct was to secure the straps of the respiratory mask on your face. Letting you take a few filtered breaths before you try to speak once more. Though he hushed you right after, in the case you’d drain the little energy you had left in you.

And from the deadweight he felt. He somehow feared the worst.

“Hey, hey, Shhhh. You're okay.” He spoke with a shaky voice. As if he were assuring himself more than he did you. “I'm here now. We're gonna fix ya’ up brand new. I promise.”

His words had been loud. Desperate even. But for some reason, it went in and out of your ears. Not entirely sure if he had been screaming at somebody else, or he had been talking to you in particular. His reassurances got softer and softer from the minute your ears began to ring.

The sound of his voice, which you would normally find comfort in. Had your head spinning around. Making you wince in turn.

You had wanted to reach out. To pull him close and check for his own injuries. But your arms and shoulders would twitch in pain anytime you had tried to move a muscle. The poison in your system had made it all the more heavier for your body to move. Chained to the ground as if restrained by your own powerlessness of the situation.

“You're done?” You had managed to groan out. Wondering if the Kaiju had been neutralized.

And his immediate response was to nod in your direction. Pulling you much closer so that his leg would be able to support your weight on the ground. Away from the edged shards of glass that had scattered about.

“I'm okay baby. Yer’ the one that needs the help here..” He lets out a dry chuckle. Not entirely convinced that his jokes were actually landing. His panic was more evident in his tone than it had usually been, and for some reason. That hurt more than the physical wounds you endured.

“I know.” You hissed. “Hurts all over..if you couldn't tell..”

“Shit. Medics are on their way. I'm gonna lift you up okay? You'll be fine. Just gonna meet em’ halfway..” He had started. With Soshiro gently hooking his arms underneath the knees of your legs. And just as soon as you were an inch off of the ground. You winced.

Your teeth gritted together as you tried not to cry from the pain you felt when your body had raised from the ground. His hands, although they had been careful, were far too firm against the cuts on your body.

And the pain on your back, where the glass shard had punctured your organs, had a burning sensation you wished would go away.

Soshiro who had seen the way you panicked. Stopped in his actions. Putting you back down on the ground where his leg had cushioned your bleeding head.

“I know, I know jus’ bear with me, alright? Keep your pretty eyes open.” The string of curses never left Soshiro's lips. And his hand which had gently held the cheek where the respiratory mask met the skin of your pale face. Hoping that your breaths would get steadier. The mask recording all the slow inhales you'd take.

In and out. Labored but at least it was still there.

“Breathe..jus’ breathe for me, okay?”

Your eyes had tried to blink rapidly to remove the fatigue you had felt. But somehow, you were fighting a losing battle. And you couldn't help but give into the darkness. The fatigue would feel much nicer since you didn't have to worry about the pain. And with your lover here. It was okay to relax now. No longer did you need to have your guard up to combat the fight or flight situation.

And Soshiro found himself panicking even more at the way your eyes grew distant. Screaming at his intercoms for a medic on-field. Likely already on their way to the location he had sent to Operations moments prior. Okonogi in particular was trying to reassure the Vice Captain, but to no avail.

Not when his focus had all but fixated on your wellbeing. Eyes already closed as you drifted to an unconscious state.

His hand had reached down to your cheek. Already running circles against the bags of your eyes. Running across the dried tears that brimmed your eyes. Denying that this moment had a possibility to be your last.

And without hesitation, he started lifting you up again. This time not a peep from your mouth.

He was gonna fucking take you to the neareat hospital himself if he had to.

Like hell he was going to let you die. Right?

Right?

“Shit. This ain’t funny. Wake–Wake up!”

He hears Okonogi speak on the other side. Something about how a few officers had already turned the corner nearest their location. And he found himself running to their direction, your head leaning against his shoulder leaving small blood stains on Number 10's plated armor.

Help was close. But Soshiro's mind wasn't eased by that fact. Not at all relieved.

Not when your head had still been bleeding and a shard of glass as large as his hand had been punctured just below the small of your back.

And as he ran, he had wondered what he could've done to avoid this.

Should he not have asked you to go out today?

No.

You had been far too eager for this moment. It had been his fault for neglecting you. For not prioritizing the wave of affections you gave him in turn.

He had promised himself that he was gonna cherish you. Dedicate entire days just for you.

And yet here he was. With his plans, ruined beyond repair. And he finds himself going back to the root of his bad habits.

His work, his ambition to be seen as someone capable. Someone who existed in the hands of the world who did not see his strength and dedication. It had held him by the collar, forcing him to face elsewhere. Trapped him from doing right by you.

And now?

His bad habits had now suffered the consequences of his actions. No longer did he have the chance to do everything once over.

And his apologies had fallen to deaf ears. Hoping for the chance you'd get to hear him again.

He had a bad habit of doing you wrong. And now, he hopes you'd be awake so he can set things right.

[xxsycamore]

❝ The Benefits of Having a Scientist Boyfriend ❞ (ISAAC X READER)

╰┈➤ 💝 Isaac surprises you with a loving gesture that will also greatly relieve your pain.

Isaac Newton x Menstruating!Reader • rating: G • tags: Menstruation; Period Cramps; Established Relationship; Fluff • wordcount: 965 • masterlist

a/n: The author is very bad at every field of science mentioned in this fic and still stubbornly made all of the needed research (plus historical research to see how possible it is for our Isaac to put this together in his current time era) while fighting cramps of her own..... Hope you enjoy and also I hope I didn't get my facts (too) wrong! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I also offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo, Leonardo, Sebastian, Arthur (NSFW), Vincent 💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than halfway done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appears as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly, moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

***

You weren't aware that your inner cry for help was able to send telepathic signals to your boyfriend, but you witness the miracle of him entering through the door in the very next second.

"Isaac!" You rise to a seating position as the sight of him briefly distracts you from your pain - a big mistake on your part, but before you can ask him what brings him here, the next cramp stabs you in the guts and only a painted sound leaves your lips. "Oww…"

"Are you alright? You were curled up on the couch too."

You've already instinctively placed your hand on your lower belly and it doesn't escape Isaac's gaze, but you still pretend to be brave about it and refuse to bother him with such a minor inconvenience of yours…

"Maybe I just ate something funny at lunch? You know how it is with Sebas and his fusion cuisine, always trying to live up to everyone's taste, haha…"

Isaac stares blankly at you for a couple of seconds, then he averts his eyes.

"You can just tell me if your period came, you know…"

Was it that obvious?! Maybe Isaac just knows you well enough by now - the thought brings forth a certain warmth within you… no, that's just another cramp.

"Oww owww… fine, you guessed it… Don't scold me, I'll go look for some herbal tea in the kitchen or-"

"No, lie back down." Isaac's unexpected touch changes the focus of your sensory receptors again and your heart flutters by the simple action of him beckoning you to lie down. You oblige, looking at him with large eyes full of curiosity.

"I was just about to go out for today's école lessons but let me bring you something first. Just lie here and be patient, okay? It's going to feel better soon."

Your curiosity only grows as you watch Isaac's back until he fully disappears from sight.

***

When your boyfriend returns you're overcome with the need to sit up and see what he's carrying in his hands, but you follow his advice and remain patient.

"Some time ago when your cramps were bad like that I asked you how you dealt with them back in your era. Since then I have been, uh, working on something. I figured now would be a good time to try it out."

You blink in disbelief when Isaac hands you what looks like a… heating pad, the ones that are typically used as handwarmers in your time.

"You'll have to massage it in order for it to radiate heat, but I hope that still works for you."

"Isaac you- but how-"

"It's nothing too complex. When I heard your explanation I figured it must be caused by an exothermic reaction… I happen to be knowledgeable in thermodynamics too, you know. I just had to put a supersaturated solution of sodium acetate in water together with notched ferrous metal… Simply put, it crystalizes and radiates heat. I'm still catching up with chemistry after beginning my second life here but fortunately, it was easy enough."

Easy enough, he says…

You can't just lie still anymore, so you raise your upper half enough to wrap your arms around Isaac's shoulders… you didn't plan it out exactly like that, but the physicist ends up being dragged down on the couch with you, barely able to prop himself up on one elbow at the very last second. You keep sobbing into his neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so touched by your gesture! I've read about so many invitations that came out of love and-"

Isaac blushes, and he blushes badly. You see the color spreading on his cheeks when he withdraws just a tad more to leave you space to breathe, but he doesn't stand to his feet just yet.

"I guess you can call it that. I'll just be happy as long as it works for you."

Isaac punctuates his words with a chaste caress on the back of your hand which still holds the innovative heating pad. His own warmth leaves you too soon but the artificial one remains - and you find yourself wondering if you can treat it as a reminder of him, when you miss him. Maybe you should tell him that, next time you want to see his cheeks reddening like that again.

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[obito-in-disguise]

| Arranged marriage! Itachi x reader |

-Will Itachi live or die?

Part 4 to this

This was ridiculous. Itachi was a fearsome warrior, people declined missions at the mention of his name in the brief. Yet here he was, sitting before her in fear, like a child who had broken something valuable. He couldn’t even make eye contact with her. Every time he looked up, he was met with her menacing scowl.

He couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it, though. He purposefully kept his illness hidden, only because he was worried. At first, he hadn’t told her because he didn’t think the marriage would even work out. Then, when it did, he became worried that she wouldn’t want to be with him after finding out he was terminally ill.

After his episode in the bathroom, he’d passed out, collapsing headfirst into the puddle of blood he coughed up. He slipped in and out of consciousness, briefly finding her crying hysterically over his body, shaking him awake. Her hands were stained with his blood before he fell back into unconsciousness. The next time he opened his eyes, he was in their bedroom, his clothes changed, the blood cleaned, and his wife standing over him, angry, heartbroken.

He really wished she would stop looking at him like that. He hated seeing her pretty face painted with such an angry expression.

"I'm sor—"

"Shut it."

Where would she even begin to wrap her head around this situation? Y/n couldn’t believe the nerve of the man sitting in front of her. What had he been thinking? That this would all somehow have a happy ending? Now that she thought about it, so many pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. The long hours he spent locked up in the bathroom, the overcompensating when the weather got even slightly cold, and the way he was always changing outfits, even when it didn’t make sense.

Before she knew it, she began pacing. Itachi watched her worriedly, his heart wracked with guilt. This was precisely why he hadn’t wanted to tell her, she couldn’t handle it, and he couldn’t handle seeing her so distressed.

"I’ve had it for as long as I can remember… this disease," he murmured, his voice distant. "It started out as a dull ache, then grew into something I couldn’t control." He paused, staring off, his eyes flashing with the ghost of painful memories. "I found out it was an autoimmune disease, my own body attacking itself. Quite ironic, isn't it?" He mused, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "At the end of the day, my greatest enemy was myself."

He rose from his seat and walked toward her, gently cupping her face in his hand. "Flower… I don’t have much time left. I’ve spent most of my life in pain. There were times I wondered if it was worth it to keep going…" His other hand rested on her cheek as he stepped closer. "But maybe it was, because it led me to you."

His expression was serious, his gaze unwavering, as if to leave no room for doubt. His thumbs brushed against her cheek, softly wiping away the tears she refused to shed.

"Am I supposed to thank you…" Itachi's eyes widen, his hands nearly falling away in shock. "Am I supposed to give you a medal for suffering because of me?" She rips his hands from her face, as though his touch had burned her. "What are you even saying, Itachi? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?"

Itachi stood frozen, utterly disarmed. His usual composure was shattered. He had no words, no defense. He had underestimated how much this would hurt her, how deeply she would feel his actions. His hands fell limply to his sides.

Y/n's eyes burned with unshed tears, her fists clenched at her sides. "You think this is love?" She laughed, the sound bitter, as though the concept itself had been warped. "You think making me watch you suffer in silence is some kind of noble act? I would’ve shared the burden, Itachi. But you kept it from me, you kept me in the dark, and now you’re asking me to be grateful for what, your self-perceived sacrifice?"

"That’s not what I’m saying!" Itachi’s voice trembled, but she was right. He had spent so much time wrapped up in the idea that he was protecting her, that he convinced himself it was for the best. Now, seeing her pain laid bare, he realized how deeply wrong he had been.

"I thought I was protecting you," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "I thought… it would hurt you too much. I thought…" He couldn’t even finish his sentence. The weight of the realization crashing down on him like a ton of bricks, he was no hero. He had spent so much time wrapped in the idea that he was sparing her, that he had convinced himself it was for the best. They both stood there in silence, chests heaving, fists clenched, their gazes full of sorrow.

"I don’t know how to fix this," he admits softly, his voice quiet, almost defeated. His eyes met hers, desperate for some kind of answer. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Her mind raced as she registered the desperation in his eyes. She wanted to tell him that it was okay, that they’d figure it out, fix him somehow, but deep down, she didn’t know if she believed that. Her chest constricted painfully. She's angry, not just with him but with the whole situation, how helpless she feels, how unfair it is, and how much she wanted to be there for him but couldn't because he didn't let her.

"I… I don’t know either," she whispers. His shoulders slumped, and though he hadn’t expected her to offer reassurances, the emptiness in her response hit him harder than he thought it would.

"You’ve kept me at arm’s length for so long," she continued, her voice trembling, "and now… now I don’t even know where to begin."

Itachi opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, he was stopped, his chest tightening, the familiar burning sensation spreading through his airways. He gasped, his breath quickening as the hemoptysis episode started.

Desperately, he tried to turn away, to leave the room before she could see him cough up his entire bloodstream, but his body betrayed him. He stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees, clutching his chest as violent, painful coughs wracked his body. Blood spilled from his lips in thick clumps, staining the floor beneath him.

Y/n froze, her heart hammering in her chest as she watched him crumple to the ground. A scream caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she rushed to him, desperate, frantic. "Tachi!" she cried, her voice cutting through the room like a knife.

He didn’t respond. His breaths were ragged and shallow. His face was pale, contorted in pain. His eyes were wide and panicked, but there was something else in them, a look of resignation. It was as if he had already given up.

The man she loved, so strong, so composed, so untouchable, looked broken, fragile, and small. Her heart shattered at the sight of him, the last person she ever wanted to see like this.

Without thinking, she knelt beside him, pulling him into her arms. "Please, please… just breathe, Tachi," she whispered, her voice barely above a tremble. Her fingers pressed against his chest, trying to steady his erratic heartbeat, but it was like trying to hold back a storm. Her eyes blurred with tears as she struggled to keep him from slipping away.

Itachi, struggling for air, managed to rasp, "I… I didn’t want you to see this. I didn’t want you to… suffer." His body shook with each spasm of blood. "I wanted to protect you…"

Her lips parted to yell at him, to tell him to stop with this twisted ideology of his, but she couldn’t. Instead, she bit her lip to stop it from quivering. What if these were his last moments? The last time she would hear his voice? The last time she would hold him in her arms?

She mustered all her strength, pulling him closer, cradling his trembling body to her chest. She screamed for help, her voice growing louder, more desperate when he slipped into unconsciousness.

Concerned neighbors arrived, one of them calling the medic nins. Everyone stared with pity as Itachi was carried away, unconscious and too weak to even register what was happening. Y/n followed closely behind, refusing to leave his side for even a second.

At the hospital, the doctors were at a loss for words. His condition had deteriorated so far that they didn’t even know how to treat him. Just like Y/n, they were all angry at Itachi for keeping this from everyone for so long. But as per his request, his treatment trials were carried out at home, where he could spend what might be his last days with his wife.

Those nights, nights filled with shared silences, tight hugs, and whispered promises, were some of the only peaceful moments they had. Y/n held him as he lay on her chest, her fingers gently brushing through his long hair. Tonight, like many others, he let it down.

He glanced up at her, noticing the distant expression on her face. "Flower… is it me, or do you look extra beautiful tonight?"

She snorts, looking down at him and flicking his nose gently. "Ow! What? I was only complimenting you."

"Are you saying I look ugly every other night?"

She laughed softly, and he chuckled, tightening his arms around her. "Of course not. You’re always beautiful. You should teach me your secrets."

Y/n laughed again, the movement causing him to shift in her arms. "Look who’s talking, Mr. Lashes-for-Days."

Itachi snickered, his hand reaching up to tug at his long lashes before they both fell into comfortable silence.

In that moment, in each other's arms, everything felt okay. Tomorrow was uncertain and as much as it pained Y/n to think about it, she didn’t know if she’d get to hold him again, to joke about how he was always prettier than her. But right now, in this moment, he was in her arms. She flexed her fingers, feeling his flesh in her grip. He was here.

The future was uncertain but he was here, and right now that was enough.

Omggggg the end of this series. I'm emotional right now, I was going to abandon it but your lovely comments kept me going so thank you all for going with Itachi and y/n on their tumultuous journey. Hugs and kisses xoxoxo

Enjoyed the story? check out more of my other Naruto fics and more stories! Requests are open! and don't forget to reblog, like or leave a comment pookie♡

[prettyboykatsuki]

Also also halovians have the ability to radiate frequencies from their halos that reveal the true nature of their thoughts via telepathy so like… do you think he does this when you two are doing the dance in bed (the woo hoo) and he lets you have a teensy weensy peak into his heart… and all of a sudden it’s like WAVES of his adoration and obsession love wrack through your brain and it’s so intense that your entire body trembles under the sheer magnitude of it

anon i thought about these asks nonstop. this is the only thing ive been able to think about for hours. i dreamt of it. i could not rest. i was tossing and turning thinking about this. like its literally making me want to scream and cry and also throw up. it makes me feel so abnormal.

just the thought of this.... i cant breathe.........

gn + sub bottom reader, lifestyle dom implications lol, 18+

the thing with sunday is i do think he has a hard time expressing himself. his leadership position, his responsibility. being incapable of lying doesn't mean much when the twisted parts of his personality are all wrapped in his conviction. sunday never lies to you. he couldn't even if he wanted

but i do think it's hard to really understand or gauge his feelings for you. if he's pleasant and kind and fair to everyone, what makes you different? benevolence and warmth are all means of control. no matter how much you pine for sunday, who knows if any of that is real?

he rarely has sex with you in such an..intimate way i think. not usually involving himself. everything is about meticulous control and allowing himself that kind of pleasure takes him off that. most of the time, it's sunday pleasuring you as a way to relieve himself. he has such iron tight control over you, but it's loving. his version of love.

it has to be out of deep desperation. to take his clothes off and actually fuck you - its... unusual. he's distressed about something, though you don't know what and he won't ever tell you. but you won't ruin your chance at intimacy over curiosity - so you're thankful.

you're so obedient. he thinks it's what he likes so much about you. and when you're thanking him just for letting you touch him - he can't help himself but feel that long suppressed and genuine devotion towards you. it escapes him, and eludes him - how ironic. the one thing in all of penacony he has the most control over is what makes him lose his composure the fastest.

you make him lose sight of these things. which is why he hardly indulges in more than making you feel good. he's careful except sometimes he can't be. sometimes you lay in his bed and call his name and make these little lovesick eyes at him and it just... bleeds him. that's what triggers him sharing his heart with you. and it's so brief.

but it overwhelms your entire body. a wave of warmth, a soulcrushing devotion that touches the stem of your spine and crawls into your head. a love so numbing and all-consuming, you gasp and claw at his back and sunday doesn't sever the connection when you feel it. he doesn't allow you to squirm away from his love.

i think it's only painful briefly. i think it's only painful because the intensity is so much and that it's usually otherwise pleasant. but sunday does more than love you, so it's more than just pleasant. it's pleasant to the point of making your skill throb and your gums ache and it feels so good you aren't sure what'd happen to you to experience it more than once

he's the most tender when he lets you down from you. you're shuddering and gasping and shaking in his arms. and instead of his usual even voice and limited touch - he's holding you and talking you down. "do you understand now? do you know how much you mean to me? don't forget. don't ever forget."

[darknessisafriend]

Everything will be okay - Commodus x you

Here's some Commodus piece! right in time as Gladiator II is out. I started writing this imagine a while ago, in August which was a particularly rough time where I lost my grandpa, I needed to write about it, but it took time, time to start grieving as well. (so obviously TW death)

I dedicate this writing to my grandpa and anyone who faced or is facing the hardship of losing a loved one. Everything will be okay loves ❤️

Everything will be okay

You were taking care of flowers in the imperial garden; you had chased slaves and gardeners wanting to help you out. Your face was puffy and red, your eyes swollen and a headache splitting your skull. You were trying to keep your mind distracted, away from the brutal shock of the news, the pain filling your whole being. The blank state of your mind was soon interrupted by a rumbling of armors and quick steps, your heartbeat quickening, you knew who it was.

“Leave!” ordered the voice of Commodus, your husband, making any person leave the gardens, even his praetorians. Before you turned around his strong arms wrapped around you, squeezing you tight. You clenched your jaw, feeling your heart going wilder, your eyes turning watery, unable to say anything, you bit your trembling lower lip.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” he breathed, pain filled his voice too, as if anything that affected you, touched him too. He gently turned you around in his arms, cupping your face to meet your eyes. The moment he did, you let out a strangled sob, tears escaping your eyes. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him, desperately trying to suppress the pain as your tears wet his chest plate. Commodus let go of you, undoing the laces of his armor, briefly parting from you to take it off and just as quickly as you parted, his arms were around you again. This time you could feel his reassuring warmth, his quick breathing, and that is all you needed in that moment. Commodus remained silent; he knew there were no words enough to express the comfort he wanted to give you, how much he wanted your pain to go away, take it all so you could smile again.

“I planted new flowers, Damascus Roses, I…sorry for disturbing your day…” you spoke after some, time, parting from him to pick a few leaves from plants, a way to distract yourself, trying to stop crying. Your husband approached, resting his hand on the small of your back, understanding.

“They are truly beautiful; I have no doubt they shall blossom soon. And you did not disturb me, you are always my priority.” He reassured you, kissing your temple. You looked down at the leaves between your fingers, tearing them into small pieces.

“I never expected father to die so soon…he was healthy…I used to say he would live close to a hundred years old…and now…” you then spoke, silent tears streaming down your cheeks “I couldn’t even see him…talk to him…one last time…I had so much to say…so many hugs to give…” you sniffled, biting the inside of your cheek, wanting to stop crying, but you couldn’t, the pain was too immense.

“Y/N. He knows you loved him dearly; I have seen you send him the letters; you have done your best. But the gods…decided to call him to their side as he was worthy of them…please do not hurt yourself with these thoughts…” he tried, his hand keeping on rubbing your back soothingly, guiding you to a marble bench to sit. You instantly leaned against him, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders. “I know how you feel. I had a different relationship with my father but for so long, I craved to hug him, to speak about how I felt, to tell him how much I loved him and what I would be ready to do for him…yet I never really could, only when I lost him, I let it all out and it was too late. But you my love, you have been a good daughter, I am sure that from the Underworld he smiles at you.” He soke softly, his eyes wet, sharing your pain, your distress.

“In my religion, there is no underworld, but Heaven and Hell...I hope he is in Heaven; it is similar to what you call the Elysian Fields.” You explained between sniffles “He deserves to be in peace, he was always good to us and trusted you blindly without even knowing you really.” You smiled through tears. “I wish you had met him; he would have liked you…” your voice shook again, struggling to speak those words. Commodus looked down, swallowing his saliva, his other hand reaching for yours, his fingertips playing with your wedding ring.

“It is not too late to pay my respects to him. I could…Y/N just say the word I will bring back his body to you.” He let out, taken by passion as always, unafraid of the challenges he could face. “I can bring him to you so you can embrace him one last time, bury him as your beliefs requires.”

You turned your head to him; not sure you had heard correctly. You met his eyes; he was terribly serious. He was offering you a way to grieve, to make your peace. You pinched your lips together, searching his eyes, amazed by the man you had the luck to call your husband.

“Say the word Y/N. You only need to command, and I shall be your hand.” he said again, confirming his intentions, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it devotedly. You swallowed down, torn, in this hard moment you wished for Commodus to remain by your side, yet to bring back the one you lost eased your spirit, a final goodbye.

“Bring him back to me, my love…” you finally managed to say “Please…” you whimpered, your hand cupping his cheek briefly, sorry to make him leave. And even if his eyes showed signs of yearning, he spoke none of it and stood, placing himself in front of you before kneeling, putting his fist on his heart.

“Your word is my command.” He vowed, looking at you determined, taking your hand and kissing it with equal devotion. “I leave the Empire in your capable hands my love. I will bring back your father.”  He promised, and stood, turning away, calling his scribes and guards, giving instructions as he put his armor back on, ready to ride to Gaul to get your father’s body. He instructed that a priest had the body to be embalmed or preserved until he arrived so he could process to the roman rituals for the dead to allow the soul to pass and not remain wandering in the mortal world. He instructed as well that word doesn’t come out that he left Rome, for your safety; to pretend he was sick and that in the meantime his wife assisted by his counselors would rule.

And just as fast as he had arrived by your side, Commodus had left, it would take about a week or a little more. Thankfully as Commodus had left, you inherited most of his workload, drowning yourself into letters he received, papers from the Senate and more. It distracted you, to the point you worked yourself to exhaustion, otherwise when night came you would cry yourself to sleep, it was normal after all but in those moments, you missed Commodus’ comfort more than ever.

As days passed you grew anxious, where was Commodus? Did he manage to obtain your father’s body? In which state? Would he even be able to bring him back? You stared at the sleeping city from your balcony, your tired eyes looking out for any movement, any singular event…

“Your majesty.” You were startled by a knock on your door, in the middle of the night, it was rather unexpected and even worrying. No one woke the lords in the middle of the night unless it was extremely urgent. Your pulse instantly quickened at that thought. You rushed to the door to open it, not bothering to cover yourself.

“Did something happen?” you asked, your eyes traveling between your chambermaid and the messenger, looking for any clues of bad news. The messenger bowed, averting his eyes at your light clothing.

“Forgive my presence so late in the night, highness. But I was required to reach you as soon as possible and by any means from the Emperor himself.” He apologized, your heart skipping a beat, your hands rolling into fists anxiously. “The Emperor is on his way to the palace, he should reach you before dawn. And whishes to inform you that he brings back your father with him.” He announced, slightly widening his eyes as you froze, your eyes glassy and tears starting to escape. Your chambermaid sent the messenger away, grabbing a warm shawl to cover your shoulders as you walked outside of the sleeping quarters. You couldn’t rest, you couldn’t stand still for as long as Commodus wasn’t standing in front of you.

And for what seemed like endless hours, you paced restlessly in the halls of the palace, your mind imagining the moment you would see your father, what state was he in? would you lose all sanity at the sight?

From afar you could hear the rapid footsteps of a dozen horses, so you rushed to the entrance of the inner court, ordering the doors to be opened. The group instantly entered, each carrying torches, except for one, Commodus, his horse was dragging a tiny carriage and on it…a silhouette, wrapped entirely in linens…your father.

“Y/N” you barely heard him call your name as he stopped close to you. Your eyes were fixed onto the cadaver of your father, your heart pumping into your ears, your body frozen in place, scared to approach, scared to touch the icy skin, scared to lift the veil and see his face…

“Y/N.” repeated Commodus louder, as he got off his horse, nearly collapsing on his knees in front of you, his fist on his heart, he caught your gaze to make you look at him. “I brought your father to you…I thank the gods proper care was done to preserve his body. Do not fear to lift the veil as he seems to be only sleeping.” He spoke with confidence to reassure you, it had to be done, to help you grieve properly.

“Thank you...” you murmured, your lower lip trembling as tears began to fall freely, blurring your vision almost entirely. Commodus stood up and came to stand by your side, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as he made you approach the corpse.

“I am here. Do not be afraid.” He murmured, licking his lips almost nervously as he tried to do a cross sign to accustom your beliefs and respect your father as well. Then, he approached his hands, carefully uncovering the face of your father. It was like sleeping as he described…but more pale, quieter…at least you were glad to notice his face didn’t show any traces of suffering.

“He didn’t suffer, the healers told me he was gone in his sleep.” Informed Commodus as if he had read your thoughts. He took a step back to allow you to come closer, your hands trembled and your heartbeat so fast that you felt breathless. This was real, he was really dead in front of you and yet it felt surreal, like a nightmare you would wake up from.

“Papa...” you cried out, your hand going to brush over his gray hair, soothingly caressing them. “I am so sorry…so sorry we couldn’t talk one last time…sorry I couldn’t hug you…sorry I couldn’t be there...” you sobbed, tears falling on his burial shirt.

You stayed there for an hour, maybe more, touching him gently, speaking to him; during that time, Commodus remained standing by your side, ordering a few things to his praetorians so you two were left alone in that painful moment. As your eyes had no tears left, a headache splitting your skull, you turned to your husband, throwing yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest, his tunic absorbing the wetness of your face as he squeezed you tight, kissing the top of your head, soothing you the best he could for long minutes.

“I have ordered my praetorians to fetch a Christian priest. We will have him buried in their cemetery if you wish.” He spoke quietly. You squeezed your eyes shut, moved by his care “Thank you...” you murmured against his chest before lifting your head to look at him. Only then you noticed the bags under his eyes, the dust covering his skin and clothes, his shoulders weren’t as straight as usual, he was exhausted, probably pushing through his limits to remain standing; he had been so fast, he had surely ridden days and nights, without truly resting. That was something you had always loved with Commodus and yet it also worried you; when he had an idea in mind, he would lose sleep and hunger until he had reached his goal.

“We should go prepare for the burial, you could rest a bit, my love…” you murmured tenderly, so thankful he was there for you, so thankful you he had chosen you as his wife. You headed with your husband to your private quarters, taking hold of his hand, a comfortable silence between you.

“Bring me a warm water basin, and the necessary to wash. Also, black clothing for the emperor.” You ordered your chambermaid and removed his armor piece by piece, dust flying all around the room, the scent of sweat reaching your nose. You threw away his under-armor tunic and undergarments as well.

“Y/N you don’t have to do this…” protested Commodus, as he understood your plan. Not wanted to be a burden on your heavy spirits already.

“You brought my father back to me, all the way from Gaul to here.”  You simply replied, dampening the washing cloth in the warm scented water “Besides, it distracts me. I need to think about something else for a bit, clear my mind.” You added softly, your eyes burning from too much crying every time you blinked.

“How could I face you again if I didn’t even have the time nor will to do this for you? I couldn’t bear it…then, I wanted to meet him properly.” He spoke softly as you washed his feet, soundly exhaling in relief, his muscles relaxing.

“Circumstance could have been better. But yes, he would have liked you, I think… He deeply valued ambition. He used to say I deserved a man who knew what he wanted and who wanted to reach the sky to provide me and my future children the best life.” You smiled softly as you thought of him, yes, he would have liked him. “Look at your hands my love...” you commented, referring to how callous they had gotten but especially the small cuts he had on his palms from squeezing the reins as he rode.

“Can you tell me what he was like? What kind of man? I know things of course from public knowledge but you know better.” He replied, letting you apply oil on his palms.

“He was such a clever man, a scholar from the beginning. He read much, Greek classists, some Roman ones too. He always said that you couldn’t understand the world you live in and its future without understanding the victories and defeats of the past. He was very strategic in his decisions; he had that broad vision over things…he would have been an excellent counselor to you or would have enjoyed debating with you...” you chuckled nostalgic, grabbing a dry cloth to dry his skin.

“So that is where your sharp mind comes from when talking politics hm?” you heard the smile in his voice, trying to cheer you up “Wrapped in the sweetness of your mother. Any emperor around the world would bend the knee.” He cooed as you looked up, gently cupping your face and kissing your forehead protectively. “I would have been deeply honored to discuss with him.” You closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him more, your face against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, that was so calm and steady even after that exhausting trip, it soothed you too, everything will be okay.

“Now, if you are ready, let’s accompany your father to his eternal resting place. Let us not keep the gods...your God waiting.” Commodus spoke softly, a little encouraging smile, telling you he would always be there.

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[dreamyelectronicmusic]

Aaah I missed you were asking for drabbles! Honestly I think you would do an amazing job on all of them but I was thinking value me? Or quiet me or tell me or unbind me? Hahaha ok so I couldn’t choose

have a great day!

Thank you so much! I went with your first choice and picked "value me" so I could write a scene from a wip that's unlikely to see the light of day in full. For context, Wille and Simon have been broken up for five years, then some things happen and when they see each other again, it takes them approximately 0.5 seconds to fall into bed together.

I hope you have a great day too!

------------------------

Wille brushed a sweaty curl from Simon’s forehead, letting his fingers run along his hairline and down his jaw. Simon’s eyelashes fluttered at the touch as they lay facing each other, their breathing slowly getting back to normal. He returned Wille’s gaze, seemingly equally unwilling to look away, searching Wille’s face for evidence of the years gone by. He was so beautiful. For what felt like the millionth time today, Wille wondered if Simon had become even more beautiful in time they’d been apart. He wanted to remember him like this, flushed and glowing from the pleasure they’d shared and looking at Wille like he was the only real thing in the world.

All too soon, though, his face grew sombre as Wille had known it would, and he flopped on his back to stare at the ceiling, Wille’s hand sliding off his face and falling empty on the pillow.

“What are we doing here, Wille?” he asked.

Wille hadn’t expected today to go the way it had, hadn’t imagined he’d ever end up sharing a bed with Simon again, but he knew the answer to the question.

“That’s up to you,” he said softly. “I’ll respect your decision.”

Simon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head minutely. “What does that mean?”

Wille briefly considered mirroring Simon’s position and lying on his back, wondering if it would be easier to talk about this like that. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. He wanted to keep looking, for as long as he could.

“I would very much like to have you in my life again, Simon,” he said, grateful to find his voice didn’t shake. “In whatever capacity you’re comfortable with. As friends or acquaintances or…” His mouth refused to form the words casual hookup, knowing too well nothing involving Simon could ever be casual for him. “... or whatever you want. But I don’t want to cause you any more pain or complicate your life. I’ll understand if you just want me to go and leave you alone again.”

Simon was quiet for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. He ran his hand over his face, sighed. “I think I ruined our chances of being friends when I jumped your bones the moment you walked in,” he said with a strained little chuckle. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking.”

“You promised you wouldn’t regret it,” Wille blurted. It wasn’t strictly speaking true. What Simon had said, when Wille had stilled his hand on his belt buckle and asked him not to do anything he’d end up regretting, fully aware he couldn’t ever say no to Simon, was I have never regretted a single thing that happened between us.

That was the only thing that mattered to Wille. He would do anything, but he didn’t want to be Simon’s bad decision.

Simon turned his head to look at him, then turned his whole body, scooting closer. “I don’t,” he murmured. He lifted a hand and stroked the side of Wille’s face the way Wille had touched him earlier, so exquisitely tender Wille felt like his heart was going to shatter. He was powerless against the urge to lean his cheek into the touch. “I don’t. But I’m – I don’t know if I can –” Simon sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you, either.”

Wille smiled softly. His kind, caring Simon. (Well, not his. But his anyway. Always his.) “Please don’t worry about that,” he said. “I promise I’m not getting my hopes up. I meant what I said. Whatever you want is fine. Anything or nothing. I’ll always be grateful that I got to spend a little more time with you, but you have to do what’s right for you.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “All I want is for you to be happy, and I know that wasn’t so easy with me around.” It was a hard thing to say but it was true, and not much about their circumstances had changed in any meaningful way. 

Simon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, a droplet of moisture clinging to his lashes. “What about you?” he asked, sounding slightly choked. “Do you get to be happy?”

Simon’s hand was still cupping Wille’s cheek, thumb stroking gently. Wille covered his hand with his, pressing it closer while he still could.

“I get to have known you and loved you. That’s pretty much the same thing.” 

[darks-ink]

Welcome back! I saw you are taking story ideas so I wanted to submit two of the prompts I wrote for Phic Phight.

1) Danny's excuse when someone notices the resemblance between Fenton and Phantom and comes too close to his secret: The ghost is his dead twin who he ate in the womb. This might have more truth to it than he originally thought.

2) Long ago Clockwork had and lost a child, the young Ancient of Space. Even with his Sight of time, he could never see what became of them, only that they disappeared. Now another being that evades his Sight has crashed into his existence. Another child, and this one a boy with the stars in his eyes and the cold of space in his veins.

I hope you like either of these!

Thank you! I went with #1, but admittedly it turned out a little short.

Duplicity

Rating: Gen Warnings: focuses on vanishing twins & the formation of ghosts, especially in connection to each other Words: 770 Additional Tags: Post-reveal, Good Fenton parents

[AO3]

---

“You know, one thing still confuses me about ghost cores.” Danny resisted the temptation to fidget when three pairs of eyes turned to him. “Or, uh, the cores of half-ghosts, at least?”

“Do tell, Great One, and perhaps I can answer.” Frostbite turned further to face him.

“Well, um.” Danny’s eyes darted over to his parents, briefly, before returning to Frostbite. “Isn’t it kinda weird that my core is more stable than Dani and Vlad? Like, I thought Dani was just because she was a clone, so she was destabilizing, but apparently Vlad got really sick as he was developing his powers? But I was, well, fine?” He shrugged, unsure of how to put his thoughts into words.

His mother hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t say anything. Neither did his dad, though he did frown.

“Of course not. Both other half-ghosts you refer to had to develop their own cores, growing them from scratch. You, on the other hand, absorbed yours from another ghost, thus stepping past the initial growing pains.”

Danny felt his heart stop. His core freeze. Thoughts grinding to a halt.

“Excuse me?” he blurted out, automatically, incredulously. “Are you telling me I killed another ghost?”

“No, no.” Frostbite lifted his hands, voice dropping into a soothing tone. “Although it is not unheard of for proper ghosts to fuse together into one, this sort of core-binding is only possible with blob ghosts.”

“And blob ghosts aren’t truly sentient, right?” Maddie hummed in thought, saving Danny the effort of trying to figure out what, exactly, Frostbite meant. “They’re barely more than free-floating ectoplasm, which is common here in the Ghost Zone.”

Frostbite nodded. “Indeed. A more developed ghost couldn’t have been absorbed in such a manner, so there is no need to worry, Great One.”

“That’s a relief.” Danny heaved a sigh. It still felt weird to imagine that his core wasn’t originally his, that it had developed separately, but, well. At least he hadn’t killed someone in the process.

“Although,” Frostbite suddenly started, interrupting Danny’s thoughts. “It is very unusual.”

“Oh?” Danny felt like slapping himself. Why did he ask for more information? He regretted asking in the first place. Knowing more wasn’t going to make himself feel better, was it?

But his parents would probably have asked if he hadn’t. Right? Yeah, definitely.

“Typically, ghosts require some form of connection to be present to bind together. Two fully-formed ghosts can fuse over shared goals or other such traits, but such a thing isn’t possible with a blob ghost. To absorb one of those, a more tangible connection is required.”

Frostbite eyed Danny, but he couldn’t quite read the emotion in his eyes. “Obviously the power of the Ghost Portal let you bypass the part where you weren’t a ghost yourself—” or perhaps he was dying and turning into a ghost anyway, “—but that connection would’ve still been necessary.”

But how. What? Who? The blob ghost must’ve come from somewhere, something, someone, but Danny couldn’t imagine, couldn’t think—

“Oh, that makes sense,” Maddie said, voice casual. “Danny absorbed his twin in the womb, so it makes sense for him to do the same thing with his twin’s ghost.”

“What?” Danny blurted out, turning to her in shock. “I had a twin? A twin I absorbed?!”

“Well, yes.” Maddie nodded, looking at him in confusion. “Of course, it happened fairly early on, so he wouldn’t have become a real ghost. But the impression of it, the potential of a twin gained and lost, that would’ve been enough form a blob ghost.” She turned to Frostbite. “Right?”

“Right.” Frostbite nodded back. “And yes, a connection like that would have worked quite well. A connection of blood and spirit, an action repeated. An echo between life and death.”

Danny shook his head. Well. Jerked his head side to side. “Are you serious? Why are you all acting like this is—this is normal, totally expected?”

“I thought you knew, honey.” Maddie was frowning at him now, confusion deepening. “Weren’t you the one who started using it as a cover?”

“What?” He blinked at her, then realized. Yes. Yes, he had been using that as an excuse for the resemblance between Danny Fenton and Phantom. A dead twin, a ghost which looked just like the living Danny. “I didn’t—I didn’t think it was real.”

“Oh.” She shot an uncertain look at Jack, then Frostbite, then turned to him. “Well. You know now?”

Danny stared at her, incredulous. Then shook his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do now.”

But what the hell was he supposed to think of all this?

[silvergreenseraphim]

Angeal and Sephiroth (And Genesis?)—Dissidia Opera Omnia—Part Three

I AM ALIVE!!

Of course, a bunch of crazy real life things had to happen right as I was trying to translate this chapter, but I am back now and it’s time to get to work! So sorry for the wait, but I thank you all for your patience!

Also, Dissidia being literally cancelled while I was away was a very odd and unfortunately timed occurrence. I was upset to see the news, but I suppose that was a strong impetus to keep translating since we may never get official English translations now. Whew!

Well, let’s dive in!

—

So, after the last encounter with Sephiroth where Angeal had to accept that Sephiroth’s will was also influencing his choice to destroy the world, part of our team is gathered around Zack, resting and talking.

They express concern for Angeal, wondering if he is okay or if he is in shock after meeting his best friend who has changed so much. Tifa is prompted to then ask Zack what kind of person Sephiroth had been before the insanity.

Zack says,

“I didn’t really know him from the start. Only since I began working with Angeal, but I heard that they (Sephiroth and Angeal) were really close, as well as with their other best friend (Genesis). That one (Genesis) would play around with him (Sephiroth), and when things crossed a line, Angeal scolded them both. Sephiroth explained to me that Angeal gave him endless lectures about discipline, dreams, honor/hope, etc….”

A reference to this scene in Crisis Core:

This is so cute, but of course everyone else is bewildered! One of them says something like, “Wait, we are still talking about Sephiroth, right??” and Zack just laughs saying, “I don’t blame you for thinking that/wondering that.”

But Zack reassures them about how Seph used to be, saying,

“He was strong, he took good care of/helped people, and he cared about his juniors/younger colleagues. That was the Sephiroth I knew once.”

Cloud seems in awe over this. Zack goes onto explain,

“Then something went wrong with Genesis and Angeal’s bodies (reference to degradation), and they didn’t tell Sephiroth. That’s why everything got so tense. They probably didn’t want to involve him in all that, but I think Sephiroth felt alone/was lonely. I was also left behind by Angeal, so I shared the feeling.”

Cloud teases Zack, saying basically “Oh, so that’s why you acted like that when you met Angeal again,” and Zack laughs in embarrassment. Krile comments that Zack’s best quality is being always honest to himself, and Zack is grateful for the kindness. Then he goes back to talking about Sephiroth, saying,

“So back to Sephiroth. Later when Angeal and the other friend (Genesis) were gone, something went wrong with Sephiroth this time. It seemed like he uncovered the secrets about his birth/creation, but he didn’t tell me much about that. But what occurred made it clear to me….that wasn’t Sephiroth, I am certain. It’s why I want to help Angeal. I want to bring Sephiroth back to who he was.”

There is a sad moment here where the others understand Zack’s wishes, but Tifa and Cloud admit that they aren’t sure if they could ever forgive Sephiroth for destroying their village and killing their relatives even if he were to return to sanity. Cloud in particular admits that he feels anger and then sorrow, a pain in his chest, when he thinks of Sephiroth. Cloud is kind to Zack, saying that he owes him so much, but on this subject their wishes diverge. He says he is sorry for that, but Zack understands saying,

“No, it’s okay. I am sorry too, Cloud.”

They all accept the fact and agree that everyone has a different position, moving on. However, Cloud does briefly stop to wonder if it is indeed possible to bring Sephiroth back to his old self.

We cut away from this scene and go to Angeal, who is talking with some of the elder Final Fantasy characters. They ask him if he is calm now, wondering,

“So, he (the current Sephiroth) is indeed not your good friend?”

This statement sounds like a casual, “So, you aren’t friends anymore” type of observation, but it is actually in reference to the Jenova-Sephiroth dilemma. They are basically asking Angeal if the real Sephiroth is truly gone. Angeal confirms in a sense, saying that,

“That’s why I was so disturbed. It wasn’t just strictly a matter of “he has changed.”

The others remind Angeal that if Sephiroth is no longer human, then he doesn’t have to feel so weighed down by the whole thing, but Angeal says,

“No, even if that is true, even if he is physically Jenova, I can sense his will still inside.

The character Aaron says, “Then there is a strong chance Sephiroth wills himself into this state (being one with Jenova).”

Angeals says he knows and that Sephiroth does indeed not seem to be human anymore. He then confirms,

“This is why I should be the one to finish this…for the sake of my other friend that I failed to save (Genesis).”

Aw 🥲

There is a sequence here that follows where the elders talk to Angeal about his serious and responsible reputation, and how he trains his juniors like Zack. They offer Angeal some pleasant advice, saying not to worry so much about Zack anymore because the latter has truly grown. Angeal agrees, noting how much Zack matured and how he passed down his own little legacy to Cloud, who carries the buster sword. The elders encourage Angeal to realize that his strong and powerful words likely helped influence this and enliven others. They note Angeal’s persistent personality as well, but Angeal sadly says,

“Tifa told me that as well, but it wasn’t enough to get through to my friends (Gen and Seph). I was just too confident that we all understood each other. I should have been there for them more…”

Basch, one of the elders, encourages Angeal further, saying in regards to the situation with Sephiroth,

“Even though you are friends, don’t let this be such a burden to you. There were changes in his heart that you simply could not foresee, despite your regret.”

Furthermore he says, “Just because you two were close did not make it your duty (to fix everything). After all, a friend’s presence alone can be strengthening for another even when far away. But if you don’t want to regret, why don’t you try to come across him again now that you are both reunited here.”

Angeal, throughout this little pep talk, still feels badly and hangs his head, but he is surprised to hear the bit about a friend’s presence offering strength, and perks up when the others suggest he try to at least be there for Sephiroth this time around. He agrees, saying,

“You’re right. I will do what I could not do back then…but…”

Angeal pauses to speak one lament amidst his decision.

“…in this world…my other friend (Genesis) isn’t here….and I know he would have wanted to start over/have a second chance with Sephiroth as well…”

—

Small note section before we move to the final battle:

There is so much to unpack in these two scenes because of all the dialogue and all the things finally said about the issues we have been wondering about as fans.

For one, now we know how it would be if the idea of Sephiroth’s redemption were to be discussed among the Crisis Core characters like Zack and Angeal, and the OG characters like Cloud and Tifa.

Zack and Angeal fully want to bring Sephiroth back because he was their friend that they loved, but the perspective of Cloud and Tifa is completely different and understandably so. They never knew Sephiroth as a friend, but instead the great SOLDIER that simply snapped and ruined their lives.

However, they are kind and understanding towards Zack, empathizing with his wishes, as well as with Angeal. It was Tifa who encouraged Angeal earlier, saying that his heroic speeches about dreams and honor had helped her, and that maybe he could reach Sephiroth’s noble, good side with such appeals.

But at the same time, Tifa and Cloud do admit that Sephiroth has wounded them too deeply, and even if he were to come back to his old self, they are not sure if they would ever be able to forgive him for what he did.

Zack is very peaceful about this disagreement, knowing that Cloud in particular means to deal with Sephiroth and not let him go freely. He knows why and accepts it. It’s ultimately very tragic and heart-rending, but we understand why their viewpoints are so different.

As for the scene with Angeal and the elders, it was very endearing to see Angeal being the one getting a pep talk this time. He also speaks very politely and respectfully in Japanese, in contrast to his usual stern tone with Zack. We are reminded that Angeal himself is still just a young man, even though he comes off like a serious, older mentor. He is just as lost and confused as his friends and Zack.

He is very much still beating himself up over not having been there for Sephiroth and not having been able to save Genesis. What was said to him about “It was not your duty” initially caused him to protest and feel some kind of shock. He may have heard that the way anyone else struggling with regret would have. He may have thought, “No, it was my duty.”

In truth, what happened to his friends was not Angeal’s fault. He also quite literally died and couldn’t be there for everything, Yes, perhaps he is right in saying that assuming they all understood each other perfectly was a mistake, but the elders are also right—there were issues that he never could have foreseen. Angeal didn’t know how far Genesis would fall or how broken Sephiroth’s already-damaged psyche was without his friends.

Yet the one thing Angeal surely believes he could have done more was simply be by his friends’ sides when they were going down, which is fair and honorable. I think this is a reasonable conclusion, and so we now see Angeal’s resolve come into full view.

Even if Sephiroth cannot be brought back, Angeal intends to be there for him, to make up for his past mistakes, to make up for Genesis, and to find peace. He also knows and admits that Genesis would have wanted to do the same with Sephiroth if he were present.

The plot of this chapter became clear to me here.

This DOO story is about Angeal’s personal redemption within himself, and perhaps a bit of Genesis’ own as well. It is about closure with the Firsts’ trio, even if it doesn’t lead to Sephiroth’s own redemption. It is still about them 🥲

—

The final battle begins.

There are a few interludes with the Tsviets, Vincent, and Weiss that establish their inclusion in the final battle, and the plan to restore everyone’s memories within the world. The other FF characters also discuss a few things about Seymour’s loyalty, and the team comes up with a final plan to take down Sephiroth for good.

This leads to Sephiroth himself, who is once again worried about the memories Angeal has brought back and how that might interfere with Sephiroth’s anchor to Cloud. He needs Angeal gone in order to not be shaken and take over the world.

Right then, the others run up. Cloud calls Sephiroth’s name and Angeal says,

“I’ve come to stop you!”

Sephiroth announces that they are too late, and that he is ready to take control. The others claim they are stronger, but Sephiroth has the upper hand, of course. He uses a fake Tifa to trick Barret into giving up the power crystals that Sephiroth needs. When this succeeds, Sephiroth summons the great materia called Crystal that apparently holds the world together. He attempts to shatter it and the world starts to crumble. Aerith rushes in front of Crystal to defend it.

Barret and Cloud are struck with horrible memories and premonitions, seemingly about Aerith’s death when this happens. They call for her to get away, but are unable to stand with the weight of memory crashing down on them.

There is a moment of panic as Sephiroth gets ready to charge Aerith, but then Angeal and Weiss actually sweep in to block his path in the nick of time.

And so, the Crisis Core tribute battle formulates, a memorial to the spar that once occurred between three friends. It even plays the music from the CC scene.

Vincent and the Tsviets are shocked to see Weiss, who did not seem to be interested in the final battle before, but something seems to have possessed Weiss. He begins quoting Loveless once again. He says,

“Hm. “My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains. The arrow has left the bow of the goddess.” So, is that how you became a monster, Sephiroth, the “hero”?”

This is a strange moment of questioning from Weiss because it seems confusing with the English translation of Loveless, but he is essentially asking if Sephiroth lost his pride and honor due to a cruel cause or turn of fate. Angeal walks up and fondly reminisces, saying,

“Ah, Loveless…how nostalgic. Genesis quoted that tale until it wore me down.”

Sephiroth is oddly quiet.

Then, funnily enough, Weiss’s intentions are revealed to be about taking Sephiroth’s place. Weiss doesn’t care about what happens in the world, but believes he should be the one to reign over it instead of Sephiroth, making an amusing callback to Genesis wanting Sephiroth’s role as the hero. Angeal laughs and responds to this with,

“Oh pfftt, you two (Weiss and Genesis) are exactly alike in your competitive nature then. Do as you will.”

Essentially, Angeal accepts Weiss to fill the empty space left by Genesis in this particular world, calling back to Angeal’s earlier lament.

Weiss and Angeal prepare for the fight, but Cloud and Zack protest, telling Angeal that he doesn’t need to do this, and that they can help now that they are back to normal. But Angeal only says,

“I know you guys are reliable/strong, but I need to do this.”

Cloud understands and says,

“I see….you want to talk to him (Sephiroth) like a person…to the real Sephiroth buried behind Jenova.”

This seems to be a callback to Cloud and Angeal’s earlier discussion where Angeal told Cloud about how he treated Sephiroth like a human. Even now, Angeal wants to speak to his friend as though he were person, not a monster blended with Jenova. Angeal also jokingly adds,

“At the very least, let me show off a little bit as your senior soldier!”

The fight begins with Angeal saying to Sephiroth that he will speak to him in this way even if the latter tries to stop him. Sephiroth only dismisses this with his same, “There is nothing to talk about in this world. It will soon become an empty vessel” statement. Angeal teases a bit with,

“Come on, don’t hold back! Test your skill with us like you did that day…”

Sephiroth only says he doesn’t remember.

Their fight is familiar and striking, full of quick and clever movement. The others are thrilled watching, with Zack even recognizing some of the moves Sephiroth taught him back in the day.

The nostalgia hits Angeal in the midst of the spar and he calls out,

“Ah, I’ve missed you, Sephiroth!”

They continue, with Sephiroth still aiming for Aerith, but being pushed back by Weiss and Angeal. Angeal further recalls the memory, saying,

“Remember, we used to do this in the old training room at headquarters, playing around in there when the 2nds weren’t looking!”

Sephiroth can still only say he doesn’t remember. Angeal persists with,

“Alright then what about dumbapples? And your friend that was so eager to share one with you that he never gave up his research on them?”

Sephiroth becomes agitated at this and says,

“I told you, I don’t know/remember!”

Weiss laughs and says, “Well, you’re a sorry excuse for a Sephiroth!”

But Sephiroth only says he doesn’t need these memories, and that he erased them. Weiss says,

“Then let me remind you what our brother (Genesis) wanted. My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess!”

At this, Sephiroth finally snaps in anger and says,

“Shut up…! All I need is my pure will!”

With this, Sephiroth exerts an extreme amount of power and proceeds to attack the crystal with his raw strength and will, causing everything to tremble. The others begin to panic. Sephiroth viciously says,

“There is my response! My gift to you!”

So yeah, the spar was fun until Weiss and Angeal brought back that memory of Genesis. Unfortunately, it seemingly angered Sephiroth a little too much, and from this point on, things seem hopeless. Sephiroth’s will is too strong, and in the midst of the chaos, Seymour arrives at last, taking Sephiroth’s side and betraying the others.

They begin to destroy Crystal together, and this is when a certain scene occurs that I have translated here:

A very important moment with Vincent, who tries to intervene by telling Sephiroth that Jenova is not his mother, and that his real mother cried for him. Sephiroth, sadly, does not believe Vincent.

Sephiroth grows in his power, drunken on the feeling, and Cloud, Zack, and Angeal stand at the front, ready to take him on, Yes, even Angeal has found his resolve and admits that while things look hopeless, they have to face it. Cloud summons everyone, rallying them all to fight together.

That’s when Sephiroth ascends and takes on his Safer form. Upon seeing this, Zack grows angry and says,

“If this really is Jenova, don’t hold back. How dare she mask as Sephiroth!”

But Safer Sephiroth tells them that he has gathered all the energy of the world to himself, and that they have lost because they did not have the power and strength that comes with pure hatred of the world. Angeal says,

“So, that’s your will. To destroy the world with Jenova’s power. I suppose that’s why I still can’t turn away from you or my past mistakes…because I’m your best friend.”

Angeal is at full acceptance here, understanding that he can’t let Sephiroth do this because it’s his responsibility as Sephiroth’s best friend. It’s a very loving way to say,

“I have to put you down because it’s what’s best for you in this situation.”

So, the battle ends with Seymour and Safer Sephiroth defeated. There is a moment of uncertainty as the world hangs on the edge of collapse, but the team, mainly Angeal, are able to bring Seymour back to his senses in the aftermath. Seymour falls to the earth in regret, much to Sephiroth’s disgust, who would never have let go of his hatred so easily.

Sephiroth then vanishes, summoning Cloud to the final confrontation. Cloud rushes through a portal, into the void where Sephiroth is waiting. The fight is a direct callback to the OG scene.

Cloud beats Sephiroth at once like he did in the original game, everything ending with Sephiroth’s voice echoing through the void, promising that he will return one day with his mother as long as Cloud remembers him. Cloud reassures Sephiroth that he will fight him again and again if it means protecting the world.

When Cloud returns, Zack is overjoyed and Angeal solemnly thanks him for putting Sephiroth to rest. There is a brief intermission where the other FF characters work to bring the shattered world back into balance, but overall, the fight is over and everything is fine again.

Angeal looks to the sky, and is unable to keep from lamenting Sephiroth’s loss, saying that,

“I lost my best friend twice now…I must admit I am filled with regret, pathetic as that may seem…”

But Zack encourages Angeal, reminding him that he was there for Sephiroth this time, and Sephiroth even responded in small ways. Zack also is grateful that Angeal was by his side in battle, saying that he wouldn’t have been able to face everything alone. Angeal warmly says that Zack could have easily stood strong with the way he held onto his pride and honor. There is kind reconciliation here, and with the other characters as well. Small scenes of forgiveness and new promises made.

It was sad, and everybody was hoping that Seph could be brought back, but in the end it was more about Angeal finding peace with the loss of his friend and giving himself a second chance to be there with him until the bitter end. He full-filled this wish, whether Sephiroth knew it or not. For that, I am grateful to Dissidia. They gave Angeal the closure he longed for and that he never would have been able to gain in any other game because of his death. Now I can only hope similar opportunities are granted to the others.

Final Notes:

Thank you so much again for everyone’s patience with this! I can’t believe DOO actually ended as I was in the middle of translating, and all for the sake of Rebirth too! But it had a good run and this bit of closure we got with the CC and OG characters was a pretty decent way to end it. I would have loved to see Genesis involved, but I suspect they knew DOO was ending too soon and so they found a way to at least include his precense before actually adding him to the game.

I also have to wonder if this version of the OG’s story was so Angeal-focused because the Remake will include Genesis and how he will deal with the final battle against Sephiroth. Who can say?

Either way, it was sad and beautiful and it gave us Crisis Core fans a lot of satisfaction and understanding for these characters we loved but felt were a bit deprived by Crisis Core’s writing. It was lovely to have Angeal and Zack reaffirm over and over that the Firsts’ trio were such close friends that were ultimately torn apart by tragedy. They all loved each other dearly, and Sephiroth’s loss to darkness was a massive heartbreak for them. For Zack as well.

I found so many scenes interesting, but the spar tribute was my favorite. Originally, I thought it was Angeal’s attempt to bring Sephiroth back to himself, but I then realized it was Angeal having some fun with his old friend before the real battle began and it was time to end everything. It was like Angeal’s goodbye to Sephiroth ;-;

There are some scenes I may have to edit or retranslate again if anyone finds any mistakes, but hopefully most of it came out okay, and a big thanks to @ansfair on Twitter (please check out their translation as well!) for the extra help with certain scenes, as well as my Japanese-speaking friend! I want to eventually translate a bit more from Dissidia and the earlier scenes from when Angeal first showed up, but for now, I hope this is fun for you all to read!

Much love everyone! ❤️

[makeyoumine69]

My Lovely Detective VI

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

— CONTAINS: Dub-con smut, accidental voyeurism, fingering, choking, blow jobs, manhandling, degradation, dirty talk, pet names.

— WORDS: 2.4k

— A/N: Hello dear readers, here's a new chapter! We hope you enjoy it and please feel free to share your opinions with us! Big hugs

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Loosing Myself

Nothing had ever stopped Patrick from getting exactly what he wanted; the little boy who had always owned every new shiny toy and whose pets had disappeared under mysterious circumstances had long since become a man who now bathed in the shallow pleasures of endless luxury, drugs, sex...

It was true that most women only slept with him for the power of money, a purely transactional affair, or in the hope of siphoning off his wealth and status. 'Although that's not to say that these sharp features and the size of my cock don't help in attracting these whores,' Bateman mused briefly, his hand running down his flat stomach and stroking his hardening length in self-indulgent fascination.

"No" doesn't exist in his world, because "yes" is usually just a matter of payment, and so he finds a certain satisfaction in taking what wasn't even part of the deal. Those materialistic sluts screaming underneath him, realizing that they made a miscalculation, that he will rip and rape their bodies, because nothing is worth anything to him anymore, and death is the real price of a night with him. No woman has ever come close enough (or lived long enough) to know the real Patrick Bateman. But Andrea, who he kidnapped and brutalized, and who was now begging him to fuck her...

'Is she losing it? Are there now two lunatics living on the 11th floor of the American Gardens building?'

"You're a stupid fucking bitch," Patrick groaned, confused and yet aroused by the desperation in her voice, her body writhing and shaking with what seemed to be a serious need for him. "I guess I already fucked your brain out, Detective," he muttered, emphasizing her profession with a certain mockery as his hand wandered between her legs. She was so wet that his fingers slid effortlessly into her this time and Patrick couldn't help but laugh in disbelief.

"You really are a dirty, filthy whore to me," he realized as Andrea took one finger after another inside her, more than ready for him, but now of all times he was dragging things out. All this in spite of the fact that Patrick was aching for her at this very moment, rubbing his erection against the silk sheets to take the edge off. 

He was creating a special kind of torture for both of them with the way his thumb kept teasing her clit, his mouth instead attacking the sensitive area around her inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses on the plump flesh. Andrea's skin was so warm to his touch, a heat that radiated not only from her body but also from the look in her eyes as she met Patrick's gaze. 

"Not satisfied with my fingers, huh? Then I need you to be more specific. I need you to tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you."

No, that was not her, it was simply not possible. Andrea, she always knew, wouldn't act like a fucking whore in heat, but... but what if that Andrea was already gone? Lost in the chaos of pain, filth and depravity?

"Ah," the woman gasped as Bateman pulled her hips toward his groin, the leaking head of his cock slipping teasingly between her pussy lips, now so swollen they literally blossomed with arousal. "I want...I want to feel you deep inside me...all of you-aahhh!"

The moment Patrick began to thrust his hips against her rear, all of her insides were already on fire, it was like a fucking torture to be stuck in the middle between being so empty and so full. 

Whimpering, Andrea wanted to bite the blanket to stop herself from crying. Although her pathetic condition could be seen in the mirror on the other side of the bedroom. "Please, just, take me," the woman turned to face him, his prominent eyebrows knitted together as the man was so focused on the process before his hazel eyes; the sight of Andrea's moist, tight cunt enveloping his veiny dick with such eagerness. "Patrick, mmm-Patrick!"

Did she just moan his name? Did she? Or was that not her?

Trapped in her own internal conflict, the Detective fell limp on the sheets under the weight of Bateman's muscles, and that one move gave him the perfect opportunity to bury himself as deep as he could until his balls began to slap her curvy butt.

A low, almost animalistic grunt erupted from the man's chest as he thrust into her, then again and again. Each time was harder and more savage, Andrea had to push the fabric of the covers into her mouth, using it as a gag, her pussy struggling to take him all in, even though it was quite difficult.

"Mmhm," she murmured, almost screaming, while her hands raked around the bed, not knowing what to grab on to, but the next second Patrick fixated them in front of her face and lowered himself even closer to her, so that now his hot breath fanned around her neck, scorching her tender skin. "Big...so big, a-awww." Andrea convulsed several times as the man grabbed her hair with no mercy, forcing her to look up at him.

Those dark eyes, they were the eyes of the devil, nothing more, nothing less. 

It had been days since Detective Donald Kimball had last heard from his assistant, and considering her last assignment had been the interrogation of Patrick Bateman, it was obvious what must have happened.

Now Kimball had to admit it to himself—letting her go alone had been a miscalculation. He had simply assumed that Bateman would be more rational. 

Because even though the serial killer had taken the trouble to cover his tracks this time, Kimball knew where to look first. 

He had been skulking around the American Garden building for days, fully expecting not to be greeted with a single sign of life from Miss Moore. He was ready to expose Bateman for what seemed to have cost his colleague his life - until he saw Andrea Moore through the window. 

Very compromising, not well, but obviously alive. 

For some reason, Bateman must have taken a liking to her, because why else hadn't he killed the woman who was sitting next to him like a ticking time bomb?

Was this man just waiting for his luck to run out? Was he longing for Kimball's punishment?

Which he could have given to Bateman. 

He should have called for backup to storm the apartment immediately. 

But after 20 years of service, he was motivated by more than honor and a handshake. The government paycheck didn't reflect his excellent work, Kimball had decided.

Just as Kimball was about to leave this place, tired of wasting his time just looking at the motionless female body on Bateman's big bed, an owner of that luxury apartment appeared in the detective's vision. Patrick, naked in all his glory, moved slowly toward Andrea, who was still lying on the bed, probably unconscious. And only then did Kimball understand what all this could mean—Bateman had finally found his perfect little doll, or rather, a helpless slave.

For a moment, the man put down his binoculars, wondering if he really wanted to know what was about to happen. With a sigh, Kimball let curiosity take over, and now he was back to watching the couple, who were completely unaware of a sudden onlooker. But even if Bateman knew, he would probably enjoy it. Why had Kimball thought of this? Maybe because of the big camera that was right in front of the king-size bed, the sheets of which were so white that it was painful to look at them.

As in the pornographic movies that were quite popular these days, Patrick positioned himself over the dark-haired woman and gripped her neck hard enough to bruise, Donald could swear he could hear her shaky gasping next to him. Was he going to kill her afterwards? At some point, the detective couldn't believe that his assistant had been here all this time. The train of thought distracted him for a moment, but when he returned to the lewd performance, the man almost dropped the binoculars from the way Andrea was sucking Bateman's huge cock as if her life depended on it. But maybe it was? 

Too many questions and no answers. Too much depravity and literally no shame in their movements, it all looked like they had done it so many times before. Patrick's tight grip on the back of her head, urging her to go faster, to take him deeper, until she felt the scratch in her throat, until his cum dripped from her luscious lips and down her chin.

There was something about the way Bateman bent her neck so their lips could meet, oblivious to the taste of his own release, perhaps even turned on by it. About Andrea pressing her soft body so willingly against Bateman's defined abdomen. And if Bateman had ever harbored violent urges toward Miss Moore, now was clearly not the time to convince her; they both sank back onto the white sheets, his broad shoulders almost completely blocking the view of her smaller frame to the voyeuristic eye of Detective Donald Kimball. 

Andrea's legs wrapped around Bateman's surprisingly slender waist, clinging to him as if he might disappear forever if she didn't. Their bodies turned, and if this was a fight, it had to be a very passionate one...

Bateman's hand all over her, on her face, her waist, her backside.

Kimball couldn't help but make an embarrassing noise, fortunately only audible to his own ears, and he gripped the binoculars tighter in response. 

He would never have expected this from a woman who dressed so conservatively every day. What surprised him even more was how a man like Bateman could be so enraptured by a single tantalizing, if not a little trashy, tattoo. 

Massaging the inked skin and kissing his way lower between her legs...

Kimball couldn't say he fully understood what was going on between them, at least psychologically, because the physical attraction was clear to him even from this distance. It was evident in the way Bateman buried his head deeper between her legs, grinding against the sheets, and Andrea's body convulsed and shook with undisguised pleasure.

And Kimball felt relief of a different kind wash over him - for now there was a way for his depraved mind to justify the next step: A private offer Mr. Bateman couldn't refuse.

How many days have passed? Andrea could never know, since she was imprisoned in a golden cage on the 11th floor of the American Gardens Building. The apathy seemed to reach its limits, and the woman even began to refuse to eat, shower, or even leave Bateman's bedroom, hiding under the covers like a frightened animal. Such an attitude only made Patrick more cruel and brutal, Andrea's skin was like a canvas for his marks, such as bruises, scratches or even bites, which he left each time they fucked, but he always took care of them meticulously, applying some balm and bandage.

Why couldn't he just let her die? Why did he keep dragging her out of bed day after day to give her a bath, as if she were his dear pet that he loved to take care of? Well, maybe she really was? The meals Patrick gave her were extremely nutritious and healthy, they were deliciously cooked, but Andrea could never really enjoy their taste. Colors seemed to leave her current life as well as her former self. She was like an empty, broken phial, and all of Bateman's attempts to fill it up were unsuccessful, to say the least; the fact that he was possessively pumping her with his seed didn't count. Though, it was a fucking miracle that the woman hadn't gotten pregnant yet. 

'If I'm really stuck here forever, there's only one way out,' Andrea thought to herself as she watched Bateman cutting an apple for her in the kitchen, the knife so sharp that Patrick didn't even have to use any pressure to cut the fruit. 'I should try to kill him,' she jerked away as the man appeared in front of the kitchen island and offered her a slice of apple with a wicked glint in his hazel eyes. 

"I'm not hungry," Andrea muttered, turning away and crossing her arms. The only thing she could think about now, besides the constant plotting of her possible escape, was the upcoming party Bateman was going to take her to. Even though she still couldn't believe that he was actually going to let her go out with him. It was so weird. "Am I really going with you? Or it's just another evil joke?"

There was an undisguised challenge in Andrea's voice that only fueled Bateman's interest in her. This woman was like an unruly element, a force he wanted to tame so badly, and he knew that one day he would eventually do it.

"No jokes, honey," Patrick sneered, leaning against the kitchen counter, the apple slice still in his hand. "But," the man suddenly straightened up and walked around the corner to get even closer to Andrea. "This is not an ordinary party, this is a special one."

"Special?"

Smirking haughtily, the man stopped right next to her, his one hand already finding a place on her shoulder, kneading it in a relaxing way, but it only made her more nervous. "Yes, it's hosted by one of my friends from Wall Street," his soft baritone echoed off the walls, creating a strangely hypnotic vibe. "I'm sure you'll like it."

With a devilish grin, Patrick quickly popped the apple slice into his mouth before drawing close to Andrea's face and in the next second, their lips collided in a sweet but possessive kiss. The fruit was so tasty and soft that its juice spilled out and ran down the woman's chin and neck. Holding her in place with his strong arm, Bateman pulled away only to catch the small drops of sugary fluid running down her soft skin, causing Andrea to shiver, but she managed to stifle a moan.

"Does your friend know what you've done?" She asked quietly, her head tilted to the side, and even though his touch was pleasurable, there was no way she was going to show it to him. 

"And what have I done?" He replied, locking his tantalizing gaze with hers. "I just claimed what was mine, don't you think?"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!

[hrefna-the-raven]

Hot as Hades

Misc. Masterlist - Masterlist

Chapter 1

Words: 1939

Summary: the fate of yours and Hades' is bound but the Fates advise caution while Aphrodite is meddling in the Lord of the dead's affairs

Chapter 2 - Prophecy

Hades rushed down the steps, seething with anger towards Pain and Panic for neglecting to inform him of the Fates' arrival. The most important inhabitants of the underworld, aside from himself of course, were waiting for him and his good for nothing imps were too busy with hell knows what to even tell him. They had one task, just one damned task. Hades pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before swinging open the doors.

"Ladies. Hah. I am so sorry that I'm...", he began, attempting to apologise, but the Fates cut him off.

"Late", they finished in unison.

"We knew you would be", Lachesis chuckled.

"We know everything", Clotho proudly stated.

"Past."

"Present."

"And future", Atropos added, nudging Pain, "indoor plumbing. It's gonna be big."

"Right, anyway ladies, I was at this picnic kinda thing and I lost all track and wanted to ask abou-", Hades tried to explain, only to be interrupted once again by the Fates.

"We know!"

His hair momentarily flared up in a deep red before returning to its usual blue flames as he took a series of deep breaths, attempting to regain his composure. He knew that losing his temper in front of the Fates would be counterproductive, despite how frustrating they could be to deal with. However, Aphrodite's words continued to swirl in his mind, leaving him wondering if there was any truth behind her teasing remark.

"I KNOW, you know. Anyway, Aphrodite... Ms. Lovey Dovey, Ms. "Hey I always know when someone's in love", now she has told-"

"About the mortal being in love with you. WE KNOW!", the Fates interrupted him yet again.

Hades couldn't help but slam his hand against his face in exasperation, a painful reminder to himself to maintain his calm and charm.

"I KNOW YOU KNOW! I got it, I got the concept!", he clenched his teeth, forcefully contorting the twitching corners of his mouth into a distorted smile, "so let me just ask. Is Aphrodite telling the truth about that mortal? Will she love me back? What do you think?"

Clotho released a sorrowful sigh, parting her lips, but before any words could escape, Lachesis seized the edge of her robe and swiftly turned her around.

"We're not supposed to reveal the future!", she reminded her sister, fixing a stern gaze upon her, despite the absence of an eyeball.

It didn't go unnoticed by Hades that a disagreement was brewing between the Fates. He found himself in the perfect position to extract information from them, all it would take was a touch of his usual charm and he would attain his answers.

"Ladies ladies", his voice was smooth and alluring, "time out, please. Can I ask you a question by the way? Did you cut your hair or something? You look fabulous, like a fate worse than death."

His slender fingers gently touched a strain of her hair, which popped out and wound its way along his arm like a poisonous snake, ready to strike. Hades' expression briefly contorted into disgust before he regained his composure and tucked the hair back into its rightful place. Clotho couldn't contain her giggles, resembling an infatuated teenager, prompting Lachesis to nudge her in the side, causing their shared eye to pop out and roll towards Hades. He swiftly retrieved it, plucking a hair from it before gently taking hold of Lachesis' hand and placing the eyeball on her palm.

"Ladies, please", he purred with a seductive voice, "my fate is in your lovely hands."

Lachesis and Clotho looked at each other, sighs of awe leaving their lips.

"Alright", Atropos grumbled, taking hold of the eye and letting it hover among the other Fates before transforming it into a radiant dark blue sphere.

"In 18 nights precisely, the hearts will align ever so nicely. The time to act will be at hand, free your aching heart, bodies to bend."

"Mmm-hmm. Good, good", Hades chuckled, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he attempted to push sudden thoughts of your naked form out of his mind.

"The once lonely receives all and her heart be yours to call!"

His heart skipped a beat. After eons of torment from his lonely, aching heart, trapped in the desolation of the demanding underworld, he caught a glimpse of a flickering light—a small flame ignited by a glimmer of hope deep within him.

"But a word of caution to this tale", the Fates' tone darkened.

And there it was, the usual punch in the face, the cruel reality swirling around him, teasing him with the notion that all the beauty and happiness in the world was meant for every god except himself.

"Excuse me?", Hades spoke, his voice cracking with sorrow.

"Should Zeus deny, love will fail.", the Fates cackled before disappearing.

The Lord of the Underworld screamed, his furious roar echoing through the realms of darkness like a wave of scorching flames from the depths of hell, threatening to consume and obliterate everything in its path. His fists pounded against the table in the chamber before he hurled it against the wall, the stone shattering into countless fragments as the sound of his frantic breath filled the room, while Panic and Pain slipped away silently, hoping to avoid being maimed.

You finished work, helping your boss cleaning up before you headed home. Daily life had become more bearable since that night with Hades. With a joyful tune on your lips, you happily skipped through the streets towards your humble abode. As you collapsed onto your bed, a gentle sigh escaped your mouth, your mind filled with thoughts of when it would be fitting to reach out to the god once again. You yearned for his presence and the ache you felt in your belly while laughing at his silly puns.

"Thinking about the Lord of the Gloomy and Grumpy?", someone chuckled.

You jumped up from your bed and turned towards the voice, its origin being the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on.

"Are-are-are you?", you stammered as every muscle on your body tensed.

"Aphrodite, goddess of love and desperately needed in this household", she smiled warmly at you.

"Do you?", your hands waved around, unsure what or how to ask.

"Know about the blooming love between you and the Lord of the dead? Of course my dear and I dare say that I wasn't even involved in all this. He fell for you loooong ago on his own. Whoops!", the goddess threw her hands up and laughed, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "shouldn't have said that."

You blinked in disbelief at the goddess' statement. Could it be that Hades felt the same way? That you actually charmed a god? Capturing his immortal heart even before you met him? It felt surreal, your head was spinning at the speed of light, different thoughts pestering your mind while a thousand questions whirled around demanding answers and all while your heart seemed to beat so fast that it almost felt painful.

"Poor little mortal", with an air of amusement, she paced around you, her voice dripping with curiosity, "but I'm not surprised, Hades is one of kind, thankfully, I think everyone on Olympus would scream if there were more like him."

"What will happen now?", you hesitantly asked.

"You two are linked by fate, my sweet little mortal", the godess whispered in your ear, "but only the Fates can tell what fate was, will be or will become."

A surge of emotions swirled within you - excitement, anticipation and a tinge of fear. Your lips parted to pose more questions but Aphrodite had already vanished, leaving only a faint trace of her delicate fragrance behind. It felt as though you were running in circles, every new piece of information throwing you back to the exact same spot you had started from. Unable to find solace in this confusion, you resolved to seek answers from the only god you felt comfortable talking to, so, the next day after work, you made your way back to the shrine in the forest.

Unbeknownst to you, Hades had been expecting your arrival, his piercing eyes watching you from the underworld. He paced around in the throne room, cursing at Aphrodite's involvement. The revelations from the Fates had deeply unsettled him, he now also had the goddess of love meddling in his affairs, as if his situation wouldn't have been bad enough. He didn't know of what exactly and how he had to convince his brother to prevent a tragedy from happening, but he was determined to find a solution in due course. He possessed a certain resourcefulness and would not allow his brother to ruin his life any further. But that would be for another day, one absurdity at the time. For now, he had to devise a plan to counter any inquiries about his...what did mortals call them again? Ah, yes, feelings. He intended to conceal his emotions for as long as possible.

As he frantically sought a solution, his train of thought was interrupted by the faint whispers of your prayer. A defeated sigh escaped his lips, and he materialised beside you.

"You heard that sound? It was the sound of your little prayer fluttering all the way down into my realm and babe, you wished for it and baboom, here I am", he exclaimed, a smug grin hiding his nervousness, wiggling his eyebrows.

"So", you mumbled, avoiding his gaze while nervously shuffling your feet on the ground, "Aphrodite..."

"Yeeeeah I know I know", Hades said, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted between you and the ground.

"Is it...?", the question lingered unspoken for a moment.

"True? I would guess so", he sighed.

"So what...uhm...now?"

"We dance, we kiss, we schmooze, we carry on, we go home happy. If you want to of course, unlike my dear brother, Mr. High and Mighty, I'd actually prefer if we were on the same page for those kinda things."

You chuckled at that, feeling your heart flutter at the prospect of a date with the Lord of the dead.

As you locked eyes with him, you noticed a flicker of vulnerability hidden behind his typically stoic expression - a mix of affection and apprehension. It occurred to you for the first time that even a god like Hades might be plagued by insecurities. After all, living under the weight of a notorious reputation for eternity, while the other gods lived their best life on Olympus, didn't leave much room for love. Perhaps he had even given up on it altogether, until you wiggled your way into his immortal existence. He grasped your hands, intertwining them and raising them towards his lips, where he planted a gentle kiss. The sensation elicited a soft sigh from you, his unnaturally warm lips against your skin sending a delightful, tingling feeling throughout your body. A blush crept up to your cheeks as your gaze remained fixated on his thumb, softly caressing your flesh.

"The full-time job my brother so charitably bestowed upon me is waiting. I'd really love to stay but I can't. I'll pick you up tomorrow night for a proper date. Be here at sunset."

With those words, he vanished, leaving behind a faint trace of smoke. A real date with a real god...tomorrow...you internally screamed of joy, trying to keep a stoic expression, just in case he'd be watching. You strolled back home, thoughts racing around what he could possibly come up with for tomorrow evening and what a mere mortal like you could wear to impress the Lord of the dead.

Chapter 3

[lilpotatjj]

There it is, the SheKnows FF.

Anon Request: yes

Warning: It's just super sweet and fluffy and both are so adorable especially to each other. If you liked it, share, so more ppl can see and enjoy it :)

(Credits to the GIF Owner!)❤️

A head, heavy and tired, leaned on a strong shoulder. It belonged to Cait which leaned on her blond Scotsman. She slept soundly during the flight to New York. Eternal ocean beneath the plane, as if it were taking a flight into infinity. Sometimes it felt like that for Sam and Cait. Freezing time and just holding your breath and loving each other. Soaking up every second like a sponge that stores water. He looked at her lovingly. On the plane they are alone. Sam slowly and carefully put a hand on her cheek and gently stroked her sleeping face. She was sleeping so soundly that she didn't even notice it at first. The sight of her made the Scotsman smile. Barely realizing his happiness, he hugged the Irish woman tighter, who promptly snuggled up to him more unconsciously and out of habit. A quiet sigh escaped her. God, she looked so happy and content, so snuggled up to him. She didn't need anything more. Cait was happy to always have him by her side, to do interviews together. He held her tightly in his arms and gave her a gentle kiss on her beautiful hair.

The flight lasted less than two hours. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if a stone on his chest was making it difficult to breathe. Cait immediately felt the tension and slowly woke up, instantly looking up at him. "Darling... is everything OK?" she asked worriedly, her voice completely sleepy. Sam just smiled gently at her and stroked her head. "Don't worry Mo Craigh, it's nothing..." he said as best he could with a fake smile, but his wife knows the blond Scotsman too well to believe him. She looked at him with a searching face and raised an eyebrow. "Tell me, something's bothering you," she said, leaving no room for further evasion. He gave in and Sam grinned again. That's why he loves this woman so much. "A lot of questions are being asked again and I wonder how much longer I can keep this up. I love you and God..." he came closer to her face, kissed her briefly, only to stare into her eyes and her soul. "...I really want to show it to the whole world..." his words sounded sincere and at the same time slightly painful. The constant lying and provoking here and there is slowly becoming a nerve-wracking test. Cait smiles understandingly and puts her hand on his cheek to stroke it. "Just a little more, darling, then you can show them... and in between you just sneak a peek here and there," she said determinedly to calm him down and she sat down properly in the airplane seat. Sam looked thoughtfully out of the window and there it was, America. New York almost within reach and only a few kilometers away.

The plane landed and both got off board. They walked through the airport as relaxed as possible, always attracting a lot of attention, both hoping not to be spoken to, but no such luck. Here and there they were recognized and spoken to, but mostly they were very polite fans who didn't ask any unpleasant questions. They then quickly went on to the hotel. When they arrived, both took a breath. There were still two days until the interview and the photo shoot. "Are you hungry? We could find something nice to eat," asked Sam and unpacked a few of his things, while Cait tiredly collapsed onto the bed. "Yes, I'm just going to freshen up quickly and then we can go," she said and stood up. "Alone?" He looked at her with a curious puppy look and waited patiently for his 'treat'. She gave him a cheeky smile. "A little company wouldn't be bad." Cait looked at him provocatively and disappeared into the bathroom, prompting Sam to follow her.

After a very hot shower, both are ready to explore New York City. They are dressed casually and inconspicuously and Cait with a mini bun, looking for an opportunity to eat something. Not the first time here, they stop by one of their regular restaurants. The owner already knew each of them well and made it possible to eat discreetly. Sitting down and ordering the food, Sam stares into space again. "Babe! Dreaming again?" Cait looked at Sam, now more worried. "Sorry, I was thinking about the photo shoot for a moment."

"What are you planning? We have a skript, but still a bit more freedom this time," she said, and the food came to the table at the same time. "That's it...where does it start and where is the limit?" he asked, putting some food in his mouth. He didn't really care what the others thought and he was clearly aware that he had to keep his feet still, but this time he wanted to take it easy, without telling Cait beforehand. After all, she should approach the interview in a relaxed manner and still enjoy the photo shoot.

"Are John, Richard and Sophie already in New York?" she asked, also eating something. "Like us, they wanted to be there two days earlier, I've already written to both of them and asked if they want a drink while they're there." He looked at his cell phone and saw that he had new messages. One from Richard. ~We just arrived. Would ask Sophie and John~ Cait and Sam finished eating and walked around the streets of NYC for a while, this time wearing glasses, a hood and arm in arm without people recognizing them.

In the evening, everyone gradually found their way together. They chose a bar that was rather quiet and not overrun by fans. "Nice to have you here," said Cait as she greeted John, Richard and Sophie. Everyone gathered at a larger table and ordered their first drinks. Sam's good whiskey 'Sassenach' was included.

"A Sassenach for me," said Sam, staring at his wife, who did not miss the emphasis. The meaning was more directed at her than at the alcohol. The bartender, a young woman in her mid-30s, kept staring at Sam and Richard. When she brought the drinks, she tried her best to draw attention to herself with facial expressions and gestures, but Sam and Richard completely ignored her. The only one who gave the bartender a death stare was the Irish woman, a look that directly marked the territory and the pack within it.

Sam loved it when she exuded authority and showed everyone who this handsome Scotsman belonged to. The bartender's face lost color when she saw Cait's expression and went back faster than anyone could see. Sophie just smiled and drank some of her drink. "The cat has its claws out," Sophie joked and Cait ignored her comment as best she could. "What do you think the interview will be like?" John interjected and looked at everyone innocently and curiously. Richard abstained and drank his whiskey again. "There will be a lot of people there again and cameras. Do you think it will go well this time?" Sophie asked the main protagonists of the show. "We'll manage it. The script gives us more freedom this time and yet... I don't want to provoke too much," Sam said dejectedly and drank his drink too. Cait looked at her husband and finally smiled lovingly at him. "You'll manage it" with these words they turned night into day and finally, two days later, the time had come.

Everyone was ready. Cait wore an elegant red dress and Sam a black suit with matching shoes. "You look lovely, Mo Craigh" Sam's voice sounded quiet and slightly seductive. Red simply suited her fabulously and underlined her character completely. "You of all people say that, my dear" she gave him a kiss on the cheek and finally everyone got ready to get started.

They arrived earlier than expected and were ready to do the interview first. Sam and Caitriona both looked at each other, briefly clasped their hands again and smiled at each other. Finally they came out, each with their hands to themselves, sat down together with the interviewer and the atmosphere was relaxed. They started the interview and, as always, showed their hidden, open side. Glances were exchanged, people laughed together and Cait and Sam alternated between making subtle comments that teased out the secret togetherness. Cait had her fingers on Sam here and there, who tried to save face, but often failed. He praised his Irish wife highly, as always, and Cait stroked his arm.

"Peach is your good thing and Pit's your bad" They continued talking. "My peach is... I love saying that" said Sam and continued, while Cait let her gaze wander to her husband's butt for a fleeting moment. After more breadcrumbs were scattered, the interview was finally over. Then came the photo shoot.

First the solo shoot and then the couple shoot. A wide variety of poses were taken. Sometimes back to back

sometimes Cait had Sam firmly in her grip

sitting and lots more. Finally, the group shoot, which everyone had lined up for. It was getting later and later and everyone could feel that the day had been long when the shoot was over. They went to get changed together, making sure that no one saw them going into the changing room together. Totally tired, the Irish woman sat down to take a deep breath. "You were great, Mo Craigh!" Sam said to his wife and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She smiled lovingly at him as he turned away and started to undress and put on loose clothing. She paused for a moment, looked at his bare butt and had to smile. "What?" he asked innocently, but Cait remained silent and began to change. While she was doing this, Sam came close behind her. "well, well... I already noticed what you did..." his voice sounded rough, as if he was expressing a conspiratorial grudge. "Couldn't take your eyes off my peach, could you?" he said playfully and buried his face in her neck. The Irish woman paused briefly to enjoy his closeness, then she turned to him and cupped his face in her cheek. "How could you...with an ass like that," she said quietly and finally kissed him.

Once they had finished changing, the two of them set off to get to the hotel. When they arrived, Cait went to the minibar in the room to get a glass of wine. The 1.92m man looked at her and grinned. "Netflix and chill?" he asked her and Cait nodded with a small smile. She put two wine glasses on the table and they both sat down on the couch to turn on the TV. She filled both glasses and took her glass in her hand. "You've been really going full throttle all day today, in front of the camera," she said, playfully raising an eyebrow. "Did I?" he said innocently, as if he didn't know what had happened. Cait snuggled up closer to her Scot, who took her in his arms. "I was just... talking about Jamie," he said, pretending to be righteous. She laughed quietly and leaned her head on his shoulder. He enjoyed her closeness just as much and snuggled up closer to her, his wine glass in his hand. "Of course we talked about Jamie and Claire," Cait said smugly and sipped her wine. "Aye Sassenach and you couldn't keep your hands off me again." His gaze wandered to her. Their eyes met and for a moment it felt as if time had stood still. They both had each other and their little family and it was the little moments that were very special and nobody could do anything about it. He slowly came closer to her and blew a tender kiss on the Irish woman's lips, which she was happy to return. Almost in slow motion, Cait pulled away from him and looked at him questioningly. "Do you think anyone noticed anything?" she asked curiously, but the blonde drank quietly from his glass again. "There are some out there who speculate and notice things. We throw too much into the fire for people who have an eye for things like that." He looked at his ring and then stroked her cheek lovingly.

"The question of whether we feel the same like for Jamie and Claire made me stumble for a moment... I think my answer was neutral enough that people can figure it out for themselves," she said relaxedly and put down her wine glass to completely lie in the arms of her beloved Scot, who did the same and put down his glass. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her hair. Sam gently stroked her hair to massage her head. Cait closed her eyes and was finally able to relax a little more. "I don't care what the media says... you belong to me and that will never change," she whispered tiredly and felt a kiss on her forehead for a small, quiet moment before she fell asleep.

My other Sam and Cait FF's

[materlux]

The Priestess and The Swordsman - Chapter 3: A thousand forget me nots.

Some how the last chapter is the shortest, coming in at only 1k words.

Did I kinda just wanna finish it? Yes, do like the ending? Also yes.

CW: Angst, death, mentions of: Blood, body horror? Grief, it's just pain honestly.

Honkai Star Rail | Main Masterlist

It’s been only a few days since you met Yanqing, in the meantime your condition had taken a turn for the worse, a lot worse. The tendrils have cracked open further up your arm, blood flowing freely down your arm, you’re basically eating and drinking every hour to make up for the blood you’re losing.

   The part that really made it worse, was a new symptom. You’d woken up to a stinging in your arm under the bandages, a healer undid the bandages and a plant with blue flowers started standing up. The healer looked at it for a while, before they almost ran out of the room.

   The healer returned with Lady Bailu in tow, they both took to inspecting the odd occurance. You complained about the pain, and the two decided to see if it were possible to remove it.

   With a pair of tweezers Lady Bailu gently pulled at the base of the plant, with some careful movements and a lot of breaks, the plant comes out in one piece. Long roots soaked in red drip blood on your arm and the floor, she places the flower in a tray and the healer starts cleaning and wrapping the wound.

   As days go by, this happens more often with more flowers, if they are left alone the roots appear to wrap around the bone, and Lady Bailu theorises that it might be able to crack the bone.

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   This has become a daily routine; you wake up to stinging pains, the healers carefully removing the plants and rebandaging your arm, then you have breakfast. Yanqing comes by on his patrol to check on you, and Jing Yuan comes by during lunchtime. He shares Luofu delicacies he picks up on his way with you and Yanqing, if the young lieutenant decides to join you.

   As days go by you lose energy faster, most of your time is spent asleep, only waking briefly to eat. The black tendrils creep up your neck and over your chest, breathing becomes a chore. Lady Bailu suspects that flowers are growing below the surface of the tendrils, within your lungs.

   She visits more frequently now, checking your vitals almost hourly, from the way her expression sours you guess the results aren’t good.

   “General.” She addresses him one day while you sleep. “I fear they do not have long left.”

   “I figured as much,” he responds solemnly.

   “They will fall asleep soon, and I fear they won’t wake up again.” Her voice quiets as she speaks.

   “How long until then?”

   “A few days at best.”

   They spend more time by your side, every hour if they can. Lady Bailu explains, you should probably be sad, maybe even scared. But the thought of death, it fills you with a sort of impatient giddiness, you hope relief finds you quickly.

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   Jing Yuan was still sitting by your side when you made your request; “Yuan, can you fulfil a wish for me?” You had asked, your voice hoarse and barely audible. He looked at you with solemn eyes and nodded.

   “Thank you” You were tired, time was running out. “I want to see the stars again before I sleep.” He was trying, you could tell, trying to stay strong for you.

   “I can do that, don’t worry,” he whispers, voice wavering and thick with emotion.

   He pulled some strings, and now you were laid in his arms, you barely weigh anything to him now. He holds you up before the giant window, outside the vast galaxy stretches out, billions of stars reflect in your eyes. You reach out, palm pressed against the glass, it’s just the two of you.

   Jing Yuan’s lower lip trembles softly, you can see it in the reflection. Your arm grows heavy and your eyes start to droop, you lean into his arms, curl up against his chest, content. It’s odd, you think, to be this happy in the face of eternal sleep, but you’re almost giddy for relief.

   Beyond the window a shooting star flashes, you forget to make a wish, but you hope Jing Yuan made one. Your breathing is slowing, the world is becoming fuzzy, his arms tighten around you.

   “Hey, Yuan?” You call quietly. “I have one last wish.”

   “What is it?” He sounds like he’s choking.

   “I want to stay in the garden forever.”

   “Okay.”

   Finally, you close your eyes and let sleep carry you away. The world fades away, for the first time in a long time, you feel no pain. Everything is at ease as you fade away into eternity.

   Distantly you hear Jing Yuan cry, feel him crumble to the floor. You wish you could comfort him, reach out and hold him like the stars beyond the glass, but you can’t. You are both the most powerful person and completely powerless; you single handedly brought the mighty General of the Luofu to his knees, without lifting a finger, but your body no longer responds to you.

   Sound fades into nothing, the world is quiet and empty, it’s comforting and eerie. You find peace in the empty black expanse behind your eyelids.

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   A day and 2 hours, your body remains alive for a day and 2 hours. Jing Yuan stays by your side, he holds your cold hand and cries, and whispers words of comfort to your sleeping form. He doesn’t know if you can hear him, or feel his war palm against your own cold skin.

   A day and 2 hours go by, and Lady Bailu declares you dead. The General has refused to do anything but stay by your side in the time frame, a group of cloud knights have to pull him away for Lady Bailu to feel your pulse and check your heart.

   A day and 2 hours, and Jing Yuan orders a flowerbed in the garden be dug up for your grave.

   Two days and 3 hours, Jing Yuan, Lady Bailu, Yanqing, and the many healers who stayed by your side, gathered to bid you farewell.

   Two days and 6 hours, items are being gathered and loaded onto a starskiff, it is sent out of the Luofu into the vast galaxy.

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   Many arms gently cradle the starskiff, many eyes look over the gifts. Flowers grow and bloom from the floor, more beautiful than any ever seen by mortal eyes. A gentle kiss is placed on the front of the starskiff; “welcome home,” Yaoshi softly says, before letting the starskiff go, and watching it disappear into the void.

[fabuloussisterofsin]

I Don't Want To Miss You Tonight

Soap has just come back from a mission. It was a long one and by god does he need his love. While getting ready to go in he remembers briefly the night you met. That is interrupted when you meet him outside. The evening proceeds and you realize just how badly Johnny needed you and missed you.

Johnny 'Soap" Mactavish X fem!reader

The reader is plus-sized, no use of Y/N cause that takes me out of the story.

Please enjoy and forgive any grammar issues, the American education system failed me.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59282092

Johnny ‘Soap” Mactavish was bone weary. Everything ached, every fiber of his being felt as though it had run a marathon. His gaze went up to the bay window of the flat he shared with his love. His bonnie lass, his darling hen. The soft light of the stained glass lamp illuminated you. Your eyes cast wistfully over the sea. You two had been able to move coastal when Johnny’s promotion to Sergeant came, it came with a sizeable paycheck and the ability to be further from the base. Fantastic news for you as well, she could change your place of employment. Now you taught University students American History.

An American abroad you had felt so out of place and then, one day in the corner of a dark pub you locked eyes with Johnny. As Johnny gazed up at you, he remembered that night.

The curvaceous gal sitting in the corner of the pub, gripping a pint you hadn't touched looking scared to death. When your eyes met it was as if Soap felt a clenching in his gut.

“Johnny you a’right.” Simon drawled out beside him. The grouchy Manch hardly ever went out, but something about Johnny made it happen.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Johnny replied almost breathlessly. “Just ah lookin at that lass ov’r there.” He took a sharp intake of breath.

“She seems to be a fine gurl,” Simon grunts. “Looks right terrified she does. You’re scarin' her Johnny.”

When in reality it had been quite the opposite. You had been smitten with him from that instant. It was his blue eyes, they seemed to shine even in the dingy light of the pub.

His gaze pierced through you like a biting winter wind, it took your breath away just as that same gale would. Your heart leaped into your throat as he made his way over to you. It seemed as though he saw nothing and no one else at that moment. As he made his way through the rowdy crowd the rest of the world blurred out in his vision and there was only you. Finally, he made it to your spot in the bar, the noise less overbearing here in your little haven.

“Hello there, my name is Johnny, Johnny Mactavish and who might ye be lass?” He asked, his voice was low and gruff, his accent thick and recognizable. You picked him out to be Scotsman right away and if you weren’t smitten already, you were for sure done in now.

You swallowed hard, your mouth felt dry and you shook, not from fear but nerves. Was this your moment? That wonderful, impossible moment where suddenly your world went from dull grey to a million brilliant shades of color? Were everything and everyone made sense and your life fit together in that final puzzle piece that was the touch of this man, and the gaze of his baby blues?

After what perhaps seemed like hours you open your mouth and tell him your name. He smiles, and it is electric, sending a shiver through your body and a pain in your heart. That warm, achy feeling of first love awakening like a crocus on the cusp of the spring. The kind of feeling that made you feel all woozy and floaty.

“Well, I’m glad ta meet yah sweet’eart.” He replies to you. “May I join yah?” He asks gesturing to the seat beside you.

“God I hope you would,” you reply. He chuckles, deep in his chest. Your eyes met once again and that's how the rest of the evening would go. Eyes trained on each other listening and talking, your drinks all but forgotten. He was so goddamn handsome. His hair was a dark brown, shaved down the sides, and the longer part made into a mohawk. He had a dusting stubble on his chin, the same dark brown, it didn't grow on a scar on the right side of his chin. A nasty thing by the looks of it.

“Did I catch your eye from across the room bonnie?” He drawls, his blue eyes stormy with purpose and flirtation. He was acting on instinct. Christ, you were gorgeous, and curvy in all the right places.

“Yes..” You managed, you could hardly breathe you swear this never happened to you and now it was.

As the night moved on, he got closer, [pushing you further into the corner of the booth you had selected. The world was completely tuned out it was just you and him. He reached out for your face and took your chin in his thumb and forefinger. Your skin was so soft against his callused fingers. Johnny’s eyes rove your face, taking in your dainty complexion, and the sight of your pretty pink lips. He can feel it in his heart, a stirring, one similar to that of when a teen boy first falls in love. He licks his lips.

“Tell me hen…” He breathes, his breath smelling faintly of scotch. “What had you traveling across the pond to this place..”

“Adventure, a new life and searching…”

“I think ye found what you were looking for.” He runs a thumb over your lower lip. The pull to you was so intense he could have sworn it was divine intervention making itself known. Your eyes were shimmering with that moony look he had only ever received a few times in his life. This time though it didn’t annoy him like it had before with other women, no from you it felt a confirmation that this pull was real.

“I think I have,” you reply.

“Kenna kiss yah bonnie?” he asks, hoping beyond hope you would give him a second yes for the evening.

“Yes.” You reply. “Fucking hell yes please.” Soap leans, forward and your lips touch, gently, nothing hot and heavy about this kiss, this was a tentative meeting of your lips. For the rest of him being so rough, his lips were soft. Soap had kissed plenty of girls, kissed them, and left them and none of them felt like this.

“Bleedin christ…” he remarks. “I’m in over my head darlin…” This was true he was in over his head, just from a mere kiss he could tell it was the end for him. You were his spark, the light he needed in his life to keep the darkness at bay.

That statement was never more true than it was right now, as he stood outside of your flat remembering this moment, he couldn’t help but feel love sick again. Lovesick and tongue-tied. His fond remembrances were interrupted by the sound of the door to your flat crashing open.

“Johnny!” You call him, your bare feet pattering on the concrete of the sidewalk; as you throw yourself at him. He grunts as your bodies make contact. “Johnny my love,” you say as his arms wrap around your waist.

He squeezes you tightly. He breathes in your scent. You smell of vanilla and cashmere. He pulls back to look you in the eyes and the bright beaming smile you give him melts his heart.

“Hello, Bonnie.” He moves to kiss you. You return his kiss with equal vigor. His hands come to rest on your hips and his fingers anchor into the meat of your hips as you kiss. You rest your arms on his shoulders before your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck.

A light sob wracks your shoulders. It was always a relief when Johnny made it home. “Oh my god, Johnny you’re home.” You say, tears streaming down your face. You look up at him and he takes your chin in his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up.

“Dinnae cry now my love…” He trails off his voice taut with emotion. His ice-blue eyes betrayed what was hiding in his heart. That same sense of relief that you felt.

“I can’t help it Johnny I happen to be very much in love with you.” You reply to him.

“Isn’t that shame then…” He moves his hand to hold your cheek, you nuzzle into his touch. “ I’d have to hurt the bastard who made you cry.” He chuckles warmly.

You laugh with him. You turn your head to kiss his palm. He can’t help it, he’s lost in your eyes as he wipes a tear away with his rough thumb. Your pretty eyes shimmered so brightly, as you felt warm and inviting in his grasp. He forgot almost everything around him except you.

You lean up a bit and meet his lips for another kiss. “I’m..so glad..you’re home..” You say as you pepper his face with kisses. “I thought, I didn’t know what I thought, I always get so anxious when the time comes for you to come home and I don’t hear anything and I tried to contact Price but he wouldn’t tell me anything. God Johnny, I thought maybe you had died…” You ramble as your hands scramble to ensure he is all there and that you aren’t just dreaming.

“Hey hey, breathe baby I’m alright, I’m right here, Breathe.” He says as he pulls you in again for a hug. The way he was holding told you something had happened, something bad.

“John..what happened?” You ask him as he holds you tightly, as if he was afraid if he let you go you’d disappear too.

“Nothin’ to trouble yah with…let’s go inside, you’ll catch a cold out here in just your shirt.” He mumbles into your shoulder. “I’m just glad to be home, with you…” he trails off. With his insistence, the pair of you went inside. Once the door was closed Johnny was on you once more. His thick arms wrapped around you like the ancient branches of a weeping willow.

“Oh Johnny…” you whisper as you stroke the back of his head, fingers running over his soft brown hair. He lets out a content mumble as you do this. You could have asked him what he wanted for dinner, you could have brought him to the couch to sit. However, something in your sixth sense told you that right now, he needed you this way. To hold him closely, to let him hold you. Without fear or judgment or ridicule, just let him be. His grip grows tighter and he hides his face in the crook of your neck. He takes in a breath, breathing in your scent, vanilla, and cashmere. Even the lotion you wore was comforting to him. He was home, and home was with you.

“ I thought about you, every day, every hour, every second while I was away hen, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, even during the mission you were on my mind, all I wanted was to come home to you.” He speaks, face still slotted in the crook of your neck. “I haven’t told you ye, as of late or ever but you are everything to me..I love you so damn much it hurts sometimes baby.” his heart is hammering in his chest as he talks, he’s being vulnerable.

You can feel your chest tighten at his admission. You had always known that without him ever telling you but to hear the words from his mouth was another thing entirely. “I know John…”

“Lemme finish.” he interrupts you. “I dinnae care about anything else right now. I just need you…” He lets out a breath. “I just want you..”

“You can have me then..” you answer his request. “However or whatever you need,” you say as he finally stands up a bit.

“Hold me, lass,” he asks, taking your hand in his, your hand seemed so slender in his. That was no small feat as you were a heftier girl. That was something he liked about you. You remembered once you bemoaned your size and several hours later Soap had shown you why that was his favorite part of you. That was a memory for another time.

He drags you to your forest-green couch and asks you to sit. You oblige, and he pushes you back until you’re both prone. Usually, this would lead to a different situation but as Johnny lowers himself on top of you his ear pressed to your sternum you know what he wanted.

He lays there ear trained to your chest, listening to the soft thumping of your heart. His arms wrapped around your waist and traveled up your back until he was comfortable cuddling you. The heart that beats for him. His heart beats for you. As the two of you lay there, the enjoyed silence soon gave way to the pattering of an autumn rainstorm on the glass of your bay window. His breathing begins to slow as you rub his back gently, your other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He grumbles again, the sound reverberating through his and your chests. He can feel himself melting, each fiber of his muscles finally relaxing after four solid months of being on alert. Before you, even after missions he never made his way out of his alert state, but you…oh, you had some sort of witchcraft about you. How with just a touch it seemed he could leave it behind, how the drums of war would cease beating in his mind. All because of you. The hour passed and Johnny could feel himself slowly fading into sleep. The rhythmic beating of your heart and the pattering of rain are his lullabies. Before he knew it he was dreaming.

You felt his breathing even out, and his grip on you soften. He had fallen asleep. This was how you would be for the next couple of hours, and you didn’t mind. You kept up your rubbing of his back as he rested. You leaned your head down a bit and kissed what you could, of the top of his head.

“I love you Johnny Mactavish, don’t you ever stop coming home.”

[zweigsons]

bloom for me

al haitham x m!reader x kaveh smut

summary: they just won't stop arguing! that is, until kaveh proposes a way you could get them to shut up

warnings: nsfw, filthy self indulgent writing, the slightest pain kink ever

a/n: this is sooooo self indulgent even tho i wrote it for a friend (hai mika ^_^) i hope u like it LMFAO

word count: 4168

You were so fucking tired of your two friends arguing over you. You were sat right in the middle of Kaveh and Al Haitham and they were just acting like you weren’t there.

You had finally had enough. You groaned, slapping the bar with both hands and exclaiming, “Stop it!”

Both of them silenced, looking at you instead of each other. “What on earth can I do to make you stop fighting?” You asked with a pout.

You looked at Kaveh who shared a look that could only be described as down right mischievous with Al Haitham. “I think I might have an idea.”

You turned to Al Haitham who now had a small smile creeping onto his face. “I think I get what Kaveh is saying. For once I agree with him.”

You sighed, exasperated, “Archons, will you just tell me what you’re thinking?”

“You know… a lot of me and Haitham’s fights at home have been about you,” Kaveh said with a grin, placing his hand onto your knee and then sliding it up your thigh in an agonizingly slow pace.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Be serious, Kaveh. You can’t possibly be thinking of doing that with me.”

You turned to Al Haitham to confirm your words but he just raised his eyebrows in amusement and shrugged. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea. And, he’s right. We both want you.” He murmured the last part into your ear, his deep voice sending a tingling sensation down your spine.

You definitely weren’t listening to your rationale because you dipped your head in a small nod. “Okay. You guys want to spend the night with me, correct?”

Kaveh laughed, “You make it sound as if we’ll be sleeping. I, for one, have no intentions of getting any sleep.” He pushed his face into you, nipping at the flesh of your neck.

You squeaked in surprise, flinching at his soft bite. “Kaveh… we’re in public.”

Al Haitham laughed, enjoying the sight in front of him. “Do you think he cares? See, one thing about Kaveh is that he really, really likes doing things in public.”

Oh. You were caught between a very strange lover’s quarrel.

You wanted to tease Al Haitham in some way, wanted to ask him how he knew that, but Kaveh was kissing your neck and, oh, Archons, you weren’t about to stop him.

“Then– ah! Let’s get out of here, please, I don’t want you to do this to me here,” Your voice pitched up into a whine and finally Kaveh let up off of your neck. You brought your hand up to where he had practically attacked you, letting your finger touch the hickey he had left.

Al Haitham’s eyes drifted down, “You sure you can walk out of here like this?”

You hit him on the shoulder in embarrassment, wiggling your hips to satiate the desire that was building between your legs.

“Let’s get you out of here, then.” Kaveh suddenly stood up, grabbing you off of the barstool and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You truly had no clue how weak you were against these two men. Al Haitham paid off the night’s tab and Kaveh carried you out of the bar.

As Kaveh brought you inside of him and Al Haitham’s apartment, he finally let you down only to push you up against the door, kissing you.

You flinched as he licked at your lips and you parted them softly, feeling his tongue against yours. Your eyes briefly flitted over to Al Haitham who was leaning against the wall and watching you with an intent gaze.

You felt yourself flush under that jade stare, but Kaveh pulled away with a soft pout. “Pay attention to me, babe.”

You grumbled a little, feeling your face flush deeper. “You’re kind of a brat.”

He grinned before pressing his mouth into your neck. “Yeah, but you still wanna fuck me.”

You huffed, letting him kiss your neck again and you whined as he bit you.

You heard Al Haitham scoff, and despite Kaveh’s request, you tore your gaze away from Kaveh and over to the other. “You can be a little greedy, too,” You said, reaching a hand over to him.

He tried to act like he didn’t want to, but you knew better than that. “Haitham,” You said sweetly, and that seemed to be enough.

He strode over to you and pushed Kaveh out of the way. Kaveh huffed, “Asshole.”

“You were taking too long.”

He scooped you up, carrying you bridal style into his bedroom. He placed you carefully on the bed as if you were something fragile.

Kaveh followed, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching keenly as Al Haitham began to kiss you. He pulled you into his lap and you straddled it so easily, like you were made to be in this exact position on him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, whining into his mouth as he kissed you. You were enjoying being kissed, sure, but you wanted more.

You truly had no idea that you were grinding your hips into him until Kaveh came up behind you, placing his hands on your waist. “Someone’s needy,” He murmured into your ear.

You pulled away from Al Haitham to tilt your head back and into Kaveh’s chest. You looked up at him, blinking. “Just keep kissing him, I’ll take care of you back here,” He said, beginning to slide cool hands into your pants.

You lifted your hips off of Al Haitham’s lap, letting Kaveh slide your pants and underwear down. You were expecting him to get lube, or use his spit, or something, but instead, he sank down and spread you apart, starting to lick at your hole.

You gasped, your arms tightening around Al Haitham. “Ka–Kaveh..!” You moaned, burying your head into the man who you were holding’s neck.

“Archons, Kaveh, be a little less forward. I doubt he’s ever been eaten out,” Al Haitham chided, but Kaveh just hummed. The vibrations went all through you and you moaned again, the sweet sound just slipping out of you.

Kaveh pulled away, “I think he likes it.”

You felt a little disappointed, wanting him to continue. “I did,” You said softly, it might’ve been too soft to reach Kaveh’s ears.

Al Haitham chuckled a little, reaching his hand down to grasp firmly at your ass before giving it a light smack.

You gasped in surprise and you hated the way your cock twitched at the slight pain.

“You like that?” He asked, nipping at your ear.

You screwed your eyes shut and nodded. He took note of this and gave you a firm smack once more. A needy moan left you and you found yourself rutting your hips into the air, begging to be fucked by one of them (or even, impossibly, both of them).

“Haitham. Lube,” Kaveh snapped his fingers towards the nightstand. Al Haitham rolled his eyes but complied nonetheless.

He handed the lube over to Kaveh who enthusiastically uncapped it. He dripped some over your ass and you groaned at the temperature. “Archons, Kaveh, that’s enough,” You moaned.

Kaveh hummed, “Are you sure? I wanna see you take both of us.”

There it was. That stupid fantasy that you had entertained at least once before you knew all this would be happening. You flushed and buried your head into Al Haitham’s neck, embarrassment filling you to your core. “Are you okay?” The scholar’s voice was soft and almost prying.

You nodded letting out a soft huff. You supposed you were in no position to be catty about things. “I’ve thought about this before. You. Kaveh. Doing this,” You admitted, nibbling on your bottom lip.

You heard Kaveh exhale in excitement and you watched as the bottle of lube got tossed to the side. “Well, all the more reason to prep you to the best of my abilities,” He said in that stupid, smart-ass tone of voice.

You would’ve said something back if it weren’t for the fact that he shoved three of his fingers deep inside of you. You hissed in pleasure, going back to hiding your face.

Al Haitham put his hands on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Look at me. Don’t focus on him too much, I’m right here.”

“Mm– ah, okay,” You replied, barely able to come up with that simple of a reply.

He chuckled, it was rare that you got to see him smile. He tilted your chin more towards him and kissed you again. You weren’t one to refuse him and those soft lips yet that somehow rough touch. Being stimulated from both ends like this was making you tremble and you ended up moaning Kaveh’s name into your other paramour’s mouth.

He didn’t look pleased, exactly. Something primal, something low and jealous came from his throat and he grabbed the lower half of your face. “Who’s right in front of you?”

Kaveh had added another finger by now and you were finding it hard to say something, a wanton haze clouding your mind. “You,” You moaned out as you ground your hips into Kaveh’s hand.

“Say my name,” He commanded.

“Al– fuck– Al Haith-am,” You managed to stammer out without losing too much composure.

A pleased and smug look crossed his face, “That’s right. And, I’ve got a bigger dick than Kaveh.”

Kaveh scoffed, and, much to your displeasure, took his fingers out of you. “That is not true!” He closed the gap between you, pressing his stomach into your back and whispering in your ear, “He’s lying.”

You had your own reservations about whether or not Al Haitham was being truthful, but seeing them quarrel like this, over you was sparking something in you. “Well, you’re obviously biased.” You had lowered your hips, tired from holding them up and were now sitting in Al Haitham’s lap again. “I think I’ll be your middle man, hm? See who’s dick is really the biggest.”

You tapped the top of your head against Kaveh’s chest again. He furrowed his brows together for a moment before scoffing. “Fine.”

Yeah, sitting against Al Haitham like this while he was only half-hard, you knew who was bigger. It’s not like you were one to lead people on, but Kaveh was a completely different story. If you led him on, he would get eager and it was all the more pleasing to see him be disappointed. You were probably a little out of your mind.

You gently slipped off of Al Hatiham’s lap, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. You did your best not to audibly gasp when you pulled his cock out of his pants. He wasn’t even hard all the way! “Kaveh, I think he’s got you beat,” You grinned, giving a sultry look back at him.

Kaveh gave you a slight glare and the idea of him being mad excited you. “You haven't even seen it yet.”

He let out a soft huff, quickly shimmying off his pants in an attempt to please you. In contrast to Al Haitham, Kaveh’s cock was just a few centimeters longer but it was thinner.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, the back of your mind thinking how stupid it was that you were comparing these two things. “I mean, I’d say you're about the same.” You pushed your hand through your hair and Al Haitham caringly pushed strands away from your face.

“Come on. My dick is obviously longer,” Kaveh said in desperation.

“Yeah, but, Haitham’s is thicker. I bet it would stretch me out real good,” You punctuated your sentence by dragging your finger on the underside of Al Haitham’s cock, causing him to groan softly, covering his lips with his hand.

“I bet you’ll be begging for my cock to be smaller when it’s shoved down your throat,” He murmured, tilting your had back and sliding his hand down your neck.

You let out an excited giggle, “A lot of talk for someone who always seems like he’s compensating.”

“Kaveh. You’re scaring him,” Al Haitham taunted, catching Kaveh’s wrist.

You turned your gaze to Al Haitham, shaking your head and chuckling. “No, he’s not. I can handle it.”

“You sure, bunny?” He dropped Kaveh’s wrist, grabbing yours and kissing your palm.

You definitely weren’t expecting the nickname and tenderness from him. He was so rough earlier, it was an odd switchup. You weren’t complaining, though.

Al Haitham pulled you back into his lap, pulling your shirt off of you. He kissed your collarbone, trailing kisses down your chest and then pushing teeth into your nipples. You gasped, back straightening in surprise. “Hips up again,” Kaveh said, you could hear jealousy under his voice.

You groaned, situating it so that Al Haitham could still kiss your front wherever he wanted and so that Kaveh could play with your ass again.

You were expecting Kaveh to put his fingers back in you but you were greeted with the tip of his cock teasing at your entrance. You whimpered, surprised at the suddenness. “You can’t just go in like that,” You murmured, turning your head to look pleadingly at him.

Kaveh just chuckled, placing his hand at the base of your skull and trailing it down your spine until his thumb started to push at your hole, stretching it open. “I think you can take it.”

You bit your lip, whining. “He rushes, I know. Always so bratty, begging to be fucked,” Al Haitham commented, nipping at your chest.

You briefly imagined Al Haitham fucking roughly into Kaveh, something angry yet loving. “I wouldn’t put it past him,” You purred.

Al Haitham chuckled, “You’ve got that right.”

“I’m right here,” Kaveh whined, biting at your shoulder.

“I’m not neglecting you,” You said, craning your head back to look at him.

“It feels like you are,” He replied, his voice needy.

You pouted innocently, “Poor baby.”

He suddenly thrust all of his length inside of you and you were pushed forward, letting out a sharp moan as he did.

Al Haitham’s brows knitted together and he gave you a concerned look and then glared at Kaveh. “Be gentle. Are you okay?”

You nodded slowly and he placed his hand on the side of your face. “Just tell me if he gets too much for you. I know how to whip him into shape,” He commented with a soft chuckle.

You were inclined to laugh a little but Kaveh was beginning to pull and push in and out of you and you could barely focus on anything else except the pleasure blossoming from it.

Kaveh slowed down his pace, lazily thrusting into you with his hand on your back. It was agonizing, you wanted more than just this stupid slowness of him.

You carefully snaked your hand down to your cock, wrapping your hand around it and beginning to jerk yourself off.

Just as you were about to reach your orgasm, Kaveh stopped moving and pulled your hand away from you. You whined, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to ask for more. “You can’t cum yet.”

“What? Why not?” You asked, your chest tightening in anger.

Kaveh just hummed, kissing a trail from the back of your neck to the end of your spine. Once he was finished with that, he wet his lips and then said, “I wanna see you ride Haitham.”

Your face flushed in embarrassment that he could just suggest something like that. You supposed you were already too far gone to say no. “You seem to be making me do an awful lot of work. What if I just want to lay down and be fucked?”

“Don’t be a pillow prince,” He said with a flick to the nape of your neck.

You flinched at the small sting it brought but decided not to argue.

You placed your hands on the sides of Al Haitham’s jaw, “Is this… okay?”

He groaned, leaning into your touch like a man starved. “More than anything.”

You started to position yourself over his cock but then Kaveh tutted gently. “I want you to face me.”

At this point you were realizing there was no point in arguing with his demands. You grumbled a little, turning around and trying to find the best way to put Al Haitham’s dick inside of you. You turned your head to face him and frowned a little, “Haitham, can you help me?”

“Of course I can, pretty,” He murmured, kissing your back. He placed his hands around your waist, lowering you carefully onto his dick.

You groaned as the head of his cock broke the threshold of your ass. You gently sank to the hilt, gasping at how full you felt.

“I’m better than Kaveh, right?” He asked cockily, biting into your shoulder.

You barely had time to answer, he had wrapped his hands around your waist and was starting to bounce you up and down. “Nn, yes, you are–” You stammered out, steadying your hands on his thighs. Wow, he was muscular.

You, completely lost in your own bliss, barely noticed it when Kaveh nuzzled his cheek into one of your thighs. Your breath hitched in your throat and you shook your head when you realized what his motive was.

“N–No, I can’t have you, ah, both,” You whimpered, but Kaveh seemed to disregard this. He tucked hair behind his ears and then sunk down, placing his mouth onto the tip of your length. You gasped, hips jerking at the small contact.

Al Haitham laughed, “Good job, Kaveh. He tightened up real nicely around me when you did that.”

Kaveh made a disgruntled noise that would’ve been funny except for the fact that your dick was making it’s way into his mouth. The only thing you felt from that little noise of his was pure pleasure, the vibrations sending a shock right to your centre.

As Al Haitham thrust up into you, Kaveh took all of your cock into his mouth and a begging, wanton moan escaped your lips. “I seriously can’t take it, please, one of you stop,” You cried, but you also sort of thought that if one of them stopped, you might actually die.

Luckily, neither of them seemed to take your words to heart, because they both just kept their pace.

“Kaveh, get off, I’m gonna cum, I don’t wanna– into your mouth, fuck,” You sobbed, your hand gripping his blonde hair.

He looked up at you through half lidded eyes, and it was that lustful stare of his that made you cum. You slapped a hand over your mouth in embarrassment, watching as he sat up and then swallowed.

He wiped the corner of his mouth and shrugged, “I’ve tasted worse. Now, I don’t think me or Haitham has cum yet. Bear with us for a bit?”

You wanted to scream, to say that no, this was all too much for you, but something about his affectionate gaze made you nod your head, blinking slowly up at him.

“That’s a good boy.” His touch was suddenly gentle, and he pulled you into a position where Al Haitham could fuck you and to where you could suck him off.

Kaveh sat down and you carefully took his member into your hands and then started to push it into your mouth. As you were doing this, Kaveh pressed his hand into your neck and then slid it up your back.

“Look at the way your back is arched right now. One might think you’ve done this before,” He quipped, using his other hand to rub your cheek affectionately.

You took your mouth off of him and bit his thigh, a gentle reminder of the fact that you were kind of the one in control right now.

He finched a little, and you, satisfied with your work, went back to trying to fit all of his cock into your throat.

Al Haitham wasn’t appreciating being forgotten, it seems. It wasn’t your fault, though! He hadn’t started thrusting in quite a few moment. But then, he pulled out ever so gently and then rammed all of his length inside of you.

You moaned around Kaveh and he shuddered. “Focus on me. Act like he’s not even there.”

That was rather hard to do when Al Haitham was repeatedly slamming against a spot inside of you that was so deep and felt so good, but you did your best to nod a little bit. You bobbed your head on his cock, occaisonally pausing whenever Al Haitham hit a particularly good place in you.

“I wanna cum in your pretty little mouth, can I do that?” Kaveh asked, threading nimble fingers into your hair.

“Mmhmm,” You mumbled as you hollowed your cheeks around his shaft. He gasped, his grip tightening ever so slightly on you.

“Ahh, pretty boy, ‘m gonna cum, keep going,” He encouraged, using his grip on your hair to guide you. His member scraped the back of your throat and you felt like coughing, but you held it in.

Kaveh looked pretty when he came, you thought. His face was captured in a moment of total bliss and his hand was dangerously close to hurting you. His seed filled your mouth and when you pulled back, some of it dripped out and onto the covers.

Al Haitham’s thrusts had come to a lull for a moment, seeming to want his other partner to get through his climax, but as soon as you spit out Kaveh’s cum into your palm, he was back to thrusting into you.

You let out a yelp of surprise and pleasure but he shushed you gently. “Quiet, love. You’re doing so good for me.”

You groaned, burying your head into the sheets, embarrassed. You heard Kaveh chuckle and you looked up at him, wondering why you ever agreed to this in the first place.

The strokes of Al Haitham’s cock inside of you became slower and gentler as he seemed so close to his own orgasm. You wanted to tell him to hurry up, to be rough, because you were also on that dangerous edge of your climax, but you kept your mouth shut.

Al Haitham placed a hand on your back as if to steady himself and his pace sped up for a moment before he let out a soft grunt, spilling inside of you. You let out a sigh of relief as he pulled out, knowing that he was finished, but you were still unsatisfied.

“You guys are assholes,” You muttered, bringing a hand down to massage your throbbing erection.

Al Haitham chuckled a little, hooking his arms under your armpits and then pulling you back up. Your back was set flush against his chest and he started to use his own hands to give you that satisfaction that you so desperately craved. One of his hands had his fingers thrusting into your entrance and the other was sliding up and down your member, squeezing with just enough pressure to feel good.

“Haitham, wait, it feels weird…!” You exclaimed, squirming in his hold.

“Just wait, it’s okay,” He murmured into your ear, kissing your neck.

Your mind went blank as you came and Al Haitham kissed your neck again, whispering praises into your ear.

You let out a shuddering sigh, finally realizing what exactly you had just done. You felt embarrassed. You covered your face with your hands and Kaveh took one of your hands away, kissing your wrist. “Did you have fun?” He asked.

You bit your lip and nodded. “I can’t believe I did something like this with you two,” You admitted with a flush.

Al Haitham laughed, “Didn’t you say you’ve thought about it before?”

Your face flushed deeper as you remembered your lust-drunk words from earlier. “Ye–Yes, I have thought about it before. That doesn’t change the fact that I was just thinking about it, not that it was actually happening.”

“Well, if you had fun, why don’t you consider doing this as more than a one night stand?” Kaveh asked, trailing kisses down your forearm.

You let out a short gasp at the proposition and you took a moment to think about it. “I mean… if you’re serious about it. About me.”

“Of course we are,” Al Haitham chimed, his soft kisses turning into even softer bites.

You huffed. “Fine. I don’t want you two fighting, though.”

Kaveh chuckled a little, “I dunno, seeing how our last little spat ended, we might just keep this up.”

You gently flicked him on the cheek and he laughed again. You blushed and then said, “I’m tired.”

“Let’s go to bed, then,” Al Haitham said, gently moving you so that you were sat beside him on the bed instead of in his lap.

The thing about being tired wasn’t a lie and as they lovingly tucked you under the covers, you drifted off rather easily.