౨ৎ Amalainse -- Do Not Steal My Works ! - Blog Posts

𖦹 IN YOUR SPIRIT, SINGING SOFTLY ⇆ yuuji itadori

┆︎summary ┆︎betrothed to an elusive shy highborn lady, yuuji is determined to uncover the woman hiding behind the harsh expectations placed upon her by her family.over the years, you grow to love one another.

┆︎tags┆︎medieval/fantasy au, prince yuuji, highborn lady reader, toxic families (readers), neurodivergent coded reader, betrothed childhood friends to lovers, fingering, missionary, loss of virginity, vanilla sex

┆︎wc┆︎8.7k (woo boy!)

┆︎an┆︎can this be a get-together fic if you're already married...?

the day dawns like any other.

it is well beyond the first hours of light touching the highest towers of castle itadori. the air is cool, crisp, gently wafting through the trees. from end to end, the entire land seemed to be waiting with baited breath as his father proposed a betrothal to you, a lady from not-so-distant lands.

tensions have been rising between your families, it is no secret to anyone. and yet, no one knows what started it, who fanned the flames of hatred between the two―only that his father wishes to fight no longer. marriage of his only son, to your families only daughter was the easiest way to promote prosperity between both families.

to yuuji, being betrothed to you is both a blessing a curse. he is only nine, and anxiety looms inside him in a way that is foreign. he had only heard of you in passing. in scant lessons from his tutors (when he bothered to attend) when they explained the lineages of other great houses. even then his tutors did not have much to say about you.

an enigmatic girl, said one. the other; a delicate whisper, in name and in mannerisms. not much at all to go on at all, yuuji thought―not when your older brothers were described in such apt words, endless details, it seemed, of their accomplishments for your house.

luckily, he did not consider himself the type of prince who let others do all of his thinking for him. determined to speak to the girl he was promised to marry, the young prince sought you out all on his own.

it takes him a while, wandering the halls of your castle. but eventually he finds you in one of the dayrooms. it's well into the afternoon, and his stomach grumbles.

you're sitting on your knees, resting them against a pillow, yellow gown fanning out against the fine hardwood floor. like a tulip, turned over. most of your black hair is pulled away from your face―like tufts of clouds. and two pieces frame the sides of your face, decorated with pale wooden beads. simple but intricate jewelry adorns your neck and wrists. and as if in juxtaposition with your overall dainty appearance, a bug skitters across your knuckles.

its long and spindly, with a black body and hundreds of brown little legs. it is easily the ugliest creature the young prince has ever seen. you make a game of it though, turning your cupped hands this way and that as you keenly watch the bug scatter across your brown hands.

"what is that?" yuuji asks, dramatically gagging, as he approaches. he sits beside you on the floor, peering over you to try and get a better look. you try to shield the creature from him, but when your eyes catch his own curious gaze, you relent, slowly showcasing it to him.

"it is a centipede" you say quietly, turning your attention back to the hideous creature. "the maids were going to kill it"

i can see why, he thinks to himself. "it is...interesting to look at" and strangely grotesque as well. yet the longer yuuji looks, the less disgusting it becomes.

you don't reply to that. yuuji allows himself several moments to study the face of his future bride. you're pretty―why no one has ever told him this before? the sun darting through the windows only highlights your skin, turns it to simmering gold before his very eyes.

he watches keenly as your fingertip softly traces the backside of the centipede. your head turns slightly to look at him. "would you like to hold it?" you ask, and your voice is so quiet that it could easily have been drowned out if there were more people present. "it does not bite, if you are worried about that, prince itadori"

another foreign feeling overtakes him. fear, apprehension, skittering around his body like the centipede over your hands.

"just yuuji, please" he warbles, steeling his nerves. "alright"

you only stare for a moment. "you do not have to, if you so wish"

"of course i don't want to" yuuji admits, pouting at you. "but you are, and you seem to like it. how bad can it be?"

you stare for a moment longer. your head turns instinctively towards the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming down the hall.

"i am not someone who needs to be impressed, my prince" you say, standing to your feet, quickly crossing the dayroom to reach the large window.

yuuji follows after you on lanky legs, unlatching the window and pushing it open. you stand on the tips of your toes, carefully depositing the centipede onto the side of the castle wall. it doesn't move, but with a gentle nudge from your fingertip, the grotesque beast understands the notion and scurries away to freedom.

and just in time too. the door opens, and your mother strides pridefully into the room, head held high, flanked by several ladies. she's so different from you, who seems to further fold into yourself when she makes herself known. he finds himself watching the scene was intense concentration.

he doesn't like what he sees.

your mother takes one long look between you and him. "prince itadori, what a surprise" she smiles, but it's a fake one. she looks about as pleased to see him as he does her. "your father is looking for you" she says dismissively towards him as she sinks her claws into your shoulder. "dear, come along now"

you follow after her like an obedient little duck, looking back at him only once before your mother forces you forward once more.

--

the young prince is hardly a boy, anymore. ten long years have passed since he's met you―and your mother and father have kept you on a tight leash. he's seen only glimpses of you, and now that he's met with you completely, yuuji finds that he is at a loss for words.

you have yet to see him, and in fact, your back is turned to him. your chaperone stares him down―like he might somehow defile you if he even dares to step too close. ijichi, yuuji's own chaperone, stands closer towards the garden gates. it had taken far longer than it should have to convince your parents to allow for a courtship.

they had seen no importance in it. the two of you were to be married, the agreements set around that notion ten years ago. why did it matter if he courted you properly if the end result was to be the same?

he thinks they are fools. it isn't uncommon at all for people to be arranged to marry. his parents were. but they fostered love for one another over the years. yuuji is determined to make it work with you.

yuuji takes a step forwards, then another. your head is craned downwards, towards your lap. the prince wonders what has caught your attention. at last, your chaperone ruins the serene moment with a cough and a pointed glance in his direction. you turn slowly, and it is with that motion that yuuji finally sees what had been closely capturing your attention―another one of your spindly beasts.

the sight of it brings a fond smile to his face. yuuji bounds eagerly towards you, taking the available seat next to you on the marble bench. just like when he was a boy, the prince cranes his neck, peering into your hands. "that is a large beetle" yuuji remarks, gazing at the insects unique markings. "where did you find it?"

you glance towards him―pretty brown eyes scanning over his features. "in the peonies" you tell him quietly, and place the beetle onto the grass, and both of you watch it as it scurries away.

there are perhaps a hundred different flowers. "which ones are the peonies?" he inquires, once he can no longer follow the bug with his eyes.

"the coral colored ones, there" you instruct, pointing, before bringing your hand back into your lap. yuuji watches the movement with rapt attention.

the prince hums in response. he knows that conversation isn't something you really seem to...like doing. from his observations of you over the years, you are content to be alone and in silence. yuuji wants to know where you go, when you recede into your mind like this.

the flowers are very pretty though, and it's just as nice to sit beside you and exist. but he practically vibrates with the need to ask you a thousand questions. to know as much as possible about you.

you like the gardens, that much is obvious. you seem completely relaxed and at peace here—more than he's ever seen in the past. how often do you come here? do you simply sit alone? are you lonely? you seem like you are. is it possible to be both lonely and at peace?

"prince ita–yuuji" you start and his attention comes to you swiftly. you seem to notice him looking, because you keep your own gaze focused on the sleeve of your dress. "...nevermind. it's nothing"

"no!" yuuji exclaims, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. he winces, and holds the back of his neck. "sorry—i don't mean to be loud. it's just that i care what you have to say, even if you don't think it's important"

you look surprised for a moment, before that expression too, falls away. you shake your head softly, looking at him. yuuji likes it when you look at him, he realizes. there is always so much to say in your gaze and yet none of it leaves your mouth.

"i was only going to apologize" you explain in that little voice of yours. he can excuse the way he scoots even closer—surely far closer than appropriate—at the softness of your voice. there is a sad expression, more melancholy than usual and one that the prince does not like. "i know i must not be the sort of woman you would have married willingly. but despite my faults—"

yuuji's face scrunches up. "did your mother tell you to say that?" he interrupts, sounding annoyed and far angrier than he means to. you aren't like the other women. why your mother insists on forcing you into the same little box, yuuji has no idea.

silence. behind you, he can hear the shifting of weight from one foot to the other of your chaperone.

"only that i should vow to do my best by you" you say, after a long while. there's more to it that you aren't saying. but yuuji knows the sort of woman your mother is, the sort of man your father is. it couldn't have been anything good. and he hates how they've sank their claws into your skin and made you think so lowly of yourself.

"did you want to be married?" inquires the prince instead, staring at you. slowly, you give a small shake of your head. "so it should be i that should apologize then?" yuuji asks once more, though there is a teasing edge to his words.

another shake of your head, innocent and genuine. "you've done nothing wrong"

"and neither have you" he says, watching the way your eyes widen slightly in shock. "i would rather be wed to someone real than someone constructed based on what they assume i do and do not want in a partner"

it's too early for yuuji to tell how he feels about you. and he knows he cannot expect you to know the same. he can't say, with complete certainty, that he loves you. but the way the corners of your mouth quirk up into a slight smile makes him believe that he could. or maybe, he is already well on his way to doing so.

--

yuuji wonders how many times he's going to find you like this : alone and with your back to him, the foreground in a scenic location. his foot crunches on a twig, and you turn to face him. there is recognition on your face and you do not look as closed off as you usually are. yuuji swears that he won't allow himself to wonder what that means.

"hello, yuuji," you greet softly, and the prince forces his legs to carry himself. he stands in front of you—raking his eyes over your form. you're dressed more formally than when you lounge around in the gardens. a soft colored gown, lavender or white he cannot tell, with pretty pearls embroidered in elegant designs. poufy sleeves, curling like your hair, and a shiny necklace around your throat.

"you look beautiful" he says honestly, clasping his hands behind his back so that he can fidget with him. his voice comes out slightly raspy, throat dry. he hopes you cannot tell.

you stare at him for a moment. "thank you" you say, clearly waiting for something.

yuuji startles. "sorry!" he says, chuckling. he can't stop staring. his eyes flit from your face—your eyes especially, and your mouth, and then to the curve of your neck. your shoulders, your waist. your hands, where your fingers are intertwined. yuuji swallows again, and curses his wandering eyes. "your father sent me to retrieve you. the hunt is starting soon"

this late into the courtship, and with the wedding not so far away, both of your chaperones have eased up, and yuuji has been alone with you on a few opportunities. and the prince knows that your reclusive nature only eases the minds of society. no scandalous activity of any sort will be taking place between the two of you. but each time has ended exactly as it is now—with him stumbling over his words and making an utter fool of himself.

softly, a frown etches its way onto your face. "i thought i had more time" you say quietly, more to yourself than to him. your eyes meet his own. "i do not wish to go" you tell him, nearly pleading.

"i know" yuuji responds, and stands a bit closer. his heart pounds in his chest, beating so loudly it feels physical— at the way you unconsciously lean in the direction of his voice. you take comfort from him. from his presence. even though you do not say it. you do not need to. he feels as though he is beginning to unravel you, and the fact that you let him makes him feel...makes him feel honored.

he knows how much you hate these events, but as his betrothed both 1of you know how important it is for you to place yourself into society. he wants to touch you, to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. but the prince knows the two of you are not there—not yet.

"will it comfort you to know that the hunt will not take very long?" he asks quietly, as the two of you begin to walk back with the rest of the royal hunting party.

"it does" you reply softly, looking up at him briefly with your captivating gaze. "you will make sure it doesn't suffer?" you ask quietly, after a moment.

you and your bleeding heart. "you have my word" yuuji promises solemnly, meaning every word.

as you both near the clearing, the prince can hear the sounds of conversation. the men clean and toy with their weapons, boasting loudly of the kills they are sure to earn. the women are all huddled away from the sun underneath a tent. the smell of fruit wafts from it, fresh and cloying. honey and lemon cakes too, if his nose does not betray him.

"prince itadori! we were waiting for you" calls out one of the lords. his hair is graying, but he can't possibly be older than forty years of age. he walks up to where he is standing at your and shakes his hand. "if you were to take any longer, i'm sure some of the elders would have fallen over"

"i apologize" yuuji tells him, though he does not truly mean it. "my lady's father asked that i retrieve her" the lord seems to have remembered that you are actually present and turns that sleezy smile in your direction. then he reaches out to offer to shake yours as well. you take a miniscule step towards yuuji, and decline the offer with a shake of your head, a quiet no thank you on your lips.

the lord is clearly miffed by your refusal. his mask cracks, minutely, before repaired. "it's rude to refuse to shake a lords hand, my lady. has no one taught you this?"

immediately, yuuji is stepping forward. he doesn't like the way the lord speaks to you, clearly. the disgust in his voice. the sneer of his upturned nose.

"that is my future wife, and your queen" yuuji's says lowly, blood boiling. he cuts in front of you, glaring down sharply at the stout man. "i will not allow her to be disrespected, in front of me no less, as though she is a simple-minded animal"

"my apologies, my prince— i only meant that—"

"what is meant is what was said" snaps yuuji, catching the attention of several other passerby's at his outburst. he opens his mouth to say more, but is stopped by the brand of your fingers wrapping gently around his forearm. yuuji's voice dies in his throat, eyes glancing down to stare at your slender brown fingers against his skin.

you're touching him. your melodious voice melts his brain as you begin to speak. "it is alright yuuji, i take no offense"

"i apologize for my tone" the prince apologizes, turning to face you more openly now—uncaring as the man slips away with a hurried excuse. "i wasn't too much of a brute, i hope?"

you laugh. laugh. at something he's said. it's soft, but its undeniably there. today is beginning to be one of many surprises. "only the normal amount, my prince" you respond, though he can hear the jest in your tone.

a horn blows, more for his benefit than anyone else's. it is with great that yuuji must leave you—though he stands and watches you enter the tent with the rest of the women before joining the men for the hunt. he is terribly useless during it all, mind clearly wandering. he is teased far more than he would like about the obvious subject of the prince's distraction. the hunt is over a handful of hours later and the men return to camp carrying a boar and a handful of rabbits.

those who are married go to their wives. those who are not either chat up the few ladies who remain unwed, or talk amongst themselves. yuuji busies himself with searching for you. the prince knows you'll be alone and he begins to make a game of it—searching in many nooks and crannies around the clearing. and he does find you, a short while later.

or rather, it is you who finds him.

"i was looking for you" yuuji says, stating the obvious, once you quietly alert him to your presence. he can spot his own parents talking, sharing a drink as they laugh, caught in their own world. before he can think twice about it, the prince begins to imagine the two of you in such a scenario.

you hold a small box in your hands, ignoring his words as you deposit it softly into his hands. "i regret that i could not see you for your birthday" you explain, folding your hands into one another as you stare down at your feet to avoid his gaze. "i hope you like it yuuji, though if you do not, my feelings will not be hurt"

"i love it" yuuji says, even though he has yet to open it. you lift your head, quirking a brow at him. the prince is quick to amend himself. "i mean—i will love it. because you are the one who got it for me" he tears open the box quickly, uncaring of how eager and childish it might make him look.

it is a pocket watch. small and golden, engraved with vines. when he flicks it open, a simple message awaits him ; happy birthday, yuuji and signed with your name. the surface is smooth, and yuuji runs the pad of his thumb across the front again and again.

"you fidget, sometimes, with your pocket watch—when you are troubled, i think" you explain, looking up at him. the prince holds your gift in one hand, reaching down to his pants to tug the old one off the chain. the surface of the clock itself is cracked. "you visited our house for tea, and when you opened your watch to check the time i noticed it was cracked."

the gold of your gifted watch stares up at him. yuuji's face reflects in its surface and he feels oddly near tears. it is a simple gift. he has received more expensive things by a long shot. but nothing compares to the fact that you see him well enough to notice his habits. to notice something as minuscule as knowing he needs a new watch.

i can't wait to marry you is perhaps too loaded for this moment. the last thing he wants to do is scare you off. things are going so well. you've just begun to open up around him. his presence brings you serenity instead of the discomfort of a stranger. he has the rest of his life to tell you how he feels.

so instead, yuuji swallows, looks at you and says, "thank you"

--

the morning sun streams through open windows. yuuji, who usually sleeps with his back facing them for a reason—wakes with the light pressing against his eyes. with a displeasure hiss, he turns over only to find that the right hand side of the bed is empty. the prince, now married as of one day, sits up hurriedly in bed.

once his alert mind catches up to him, you're easily found. you lean against the balcony, looking down. the line of your body is tense, and your shoulders are square. yuuji imagines that for you, there is much to be unhappy about. he tries to remind himself that none of it is because of him.

quietly, so as not to startle you, yuuji calls out your name. he stands beside you, shoulders nearly touching. if the wind blew hard enough, he imagines he could feel the tense side of your body against his own. "early riser, i take it?" yuuji inquires, turning so that his back is pressed against the rails. he can get a better look at you this way.

your mouth pulls down into a soft frown. your fingers twist and pull at one another anxiously. "occasionally" you tell him. then, "when i cannot sleep"

"what troubles you?" asks the prince, just barely fighting to tack on a love at the end of it. not there yet, he reminds himself. not there, we're not there yet.

it is probably the wedding. you don't like attention at the best of times. but not even you could weasel your way out of this one. imagine―a crown princess hiding out from her own wedding. and how alienating it must be, to live in a place that is not your home, surrounded by people you do not know. yuuji absentmindedly traces his lips with his finger, recalling the chaste kiss pressed to them at the ceremony the day before. was there more he could have done, to ease your discomfort?

"we did not consummate the marriage" you explain softly. nervously, you pull at your fingers.

"you did not want to" reminds the prince, not unkindly, staring at you, trying to piece together what you really mean. "why would i force you to do something you do not wish to? it is cruel"

"i should have pushed past my discomforts" you whisper softly, staring down at your bare feet. "they may argue that our marriage is less legitimate if i cannot produce an heir—much less if word gets out that we did not...i do not want to cause you more worry" you finish, sounding so helpless it breaks his heart.

he has an inkling of what this is really about. for a moment, at the reception, your mother had pulled you away. you had left him with an uneasy smile on your face and returned to him so obviously crestfallen. he can't imagine what it is that she's said to you, what lies she's filled your head with.

yuuji steps closer, and gently covers your hand in his own. he turns it over in his palm, relishing in the fact that you do not move away. "if our positions were reversed, would you force me?"

you stare up at him with wide eyes. "...i would not"

"why do you insist on treating yourself so unkindly?" he says softly, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. "i only want to see you happy. i wish to bring you no discomfort, no pain. and i know you wish for me to be the same."

"children require a lot of effort, and take a toll on the mind, and the body" continues the prince. "we will not sire a child until you wish to, and not a moment before. it is you who i am wed to, not the court. the court will not be the one to carry the babe, you will"

you are silent for a long moment. the minutes stretch onwards, and your hand trembles where it rests against his own. a quiet sniffle, and then tears. yuuji stares, unsure of what to do.

"what if i am never ready?" you whisper wetly, looking away from him.

yuuji wants to kiss you. it's a thought that comes at the worst possible time—and shames him thoroughly. but it is true. yuuji wants to kiss you, and he wants to hold your hand, and show you so many wonderful things. things you deserve to have. that you should have already had. but he swallows, and pushes down the feeling.

"i still would not force you" he says truthfully, and it physically pains him to imagine a world where he would. another soft sob escapes you. it physically pains him to see you this way, like someone has stabbed him and left the wound open. "would you like to be held?" yuuji inquires softly.

he doesn't expect you take him up on it. but you do, nodding minutely before stumbling your way into his chest with a sniffle. it's a testament to how much you've grown, over the years. yuuji's arms wrap around you immediately, rubbing softly at the center of your back as quiet cooing noises leave his lips.

"...thank you" your soft cries have subsided, but yet you remain in his embrace. if you do not wish to move, then yuuji won't move you. he can feel you moving, can feel your chin digging into the center of his chest as you slowly blink up at him. tears clump your lashes. the prince brings his finger to your cheek to brush away the last of them.

"i am here for you" yuuji tells you, staring you in the eye so you know how serious he is about this. about you. "always"

you say nothing, only moving to tuck yourself back into his chest. yuuji can feel the way you breathe deeply, and the shuddery exhale that follows as you allow yourself to be comforted.

--

it has been nearly two months since then. and something almost...tangible has passed between the two of you. yuuji can feel it, in the heavy way you look at him. contemplative. questioning. though not in a malicious way. the opposite, really, considering there is no-one more incapable of malice than you.

and that is why yuuji is so afraid to ruin things. ruin them with his feelings, ones he isn't sure you return. afraid to ruin them by showing you that he is not as good as you surely think him to be. afraid to disappoint you.

yuuji's sure you've already noticed his mood as of late—sullen. brooding. clipped, one word answers. how he holes himself up in the council room, or in his office. and when he cannot contain his anger and frustration at the state of things, the training yards with the knights.

that is where he is now, when you find him. todo, one of the knights, has just swept him expertly off his feet. he lands ungracefully on his ass. with a groan, the prince pulls himself to his feet—uncertain now why the usual boisterous training yard has fallen silent.

his heart plummets to the bottom of his stomach when he finally spots you standing in the yard. you hold the skirt of your gown in light fists to protect it from getting soiled by the mud. the juxtaposition it creates—a delicate flower surrounded by dirt and grime.

"i tried calling for you" you say quietly, as the prince bounds to your side, leading you away from the dirt. he knows he must smell, yet you do well to keep your face cool and neutral. simply being in your presence is enough to begin to lift away the sour cloud that hovers above him. "i stood on the balcony. but you could not hear me. it is very loud here" you continue to explain, as if yuuji might somehow be upset with you for any of it.

"have you any need for me?" yuuji asks, cursing himself for being so filthy. if he were cleaner, perhaps you would be up to holding his hand again.

at this, you hesitate. but then the prince can physically see the way you steel your nerves, before raising your eyes to his and giving him one solemn nod.

"only your company" you tell him, so very obvious that you're forcing yourself not to look away. "but it seems i have caught you at an ill time. so it can wait until tomorrow—but i was...i was wondering if you would like to spend the day together?"

"yes, please" yuuji rushes out, before you can even finish. you look at him in surprise, for a quick moment. like you can't believe he had agreed. "today, works. i just need to bathe quickly—"

you give him a small, fond smile, tilting your head to show that you're listening attentively. yuuji's mouth clamps shut and he feels himself turning red.

by now, the both of you have reached your shared chambers. and so, there is no real need for yuuji to stammer out a shaky, "i will be only a moment. to bathe. if that does not set our plans too far back"

but he does. stammer, he means, and you only send him another one of your soft smiles. your hands are clasped lightly at your front. really, you look none at all inconvenienced. "i will wait here for you" you say—gesturing to the bedroom.

"alright" yuuji croaks, and proceeds to set records for fastest bath ever taken. you stand close, much closer than usual, as the two of you exit the chambers. the prince tries not to let the proximity of your body heat ruin his life. he fails. how is it that your presence alone sends him spiraling, but is the only balm for said malady?

and then his brain really does short-circuit once you close the little distance between you. your left arm loops through his right one—but you keep your gaze trained forwards. steadily so. "i am not being too forward?" you ask, refusing to look at him.

"not at all." a gaggle of maids smile as you both pass. yuuji places his hand over the one currently curled around his bicep. he is stiff, almost, as you lead him where you please.

eventually, the two of you end up in another one of the castles gardens. this one is smaller, more private. out on the veranda are two chairs and an easel.

"you mean to paint my portrait" yuuji says, quite dumbly—feeling his face get hot. his palms itch and he feels sweaty, all of a sudden. he's thankful now that you aren't holding his hand.

"if you do not oppose" you wager and you both are looking away from each other now. "i am good at it. i wouldn't make you look like a horrid beast"

it's meant to be a joke. and yuuji takes it, laughing a lot harder than he should for such a little quip. but the corners of your mouth turn up slightly in satisfaction.

"what would you have done, if i had not agreed?" yuuji inquires, departing from your warmth. not that he would have.

you take your place by the easel, holding a pencil in your hand as you begin to sketch the shape of his head—the drape of his wonderful sandy hair. "i would have painted the other chair"

yuuji makes a noise, and laughter peals from his throat so hard that he loses his careful position. you sketch furiously now, concentrated and he realizes that you are trying to capture his laughter.

your head pokes around the easel, brows knit. "you have so many facial expressions."

"that's a good thing, i hope" yuuji replies, feeling his face flush at the way you stare at him. the levelness of your gaze and the relaxation that settles into your bones.

"i have never seen something so alive before" you murmur softly, more to yourself than to him. your eyes dart just west of his face. they dart away again, just as quick. you move to mix your paints now. "i want to be alive like you are"

you are alive yuuji wants to say. painfully so. people just do not care to stay long enough to see it. but he does. he has. yuuji has been there, every step of the way—watching you blossom underneath his hands and eyes. a choked, panicked sound erupts from his throat. your eyes snap up, alarmed.

"...forgive me" you apologize, just as yuuji says, "i am in love with you"

both of you freeze. the ornate palette in your hand hovers in midair, awkwardly close to the easel.

"i have tried to hide it" yuuji whispers at last, when you do not say anything at all. he pretends to pull at a very determined thread in his pants, avoiding your eyes. "and i have tried not to pressure you.i—in anyway. you do not have to return my feelings"

out of his peripheral, he can see see the way your face pulls and twists. "how do you know?" you aren't disgusted. he hadn't expected that you would be. he knew you wouldn't. you aren't the type. but still the fear had clung to him like a second skin anyway.

"i think of you often. i see you everywhere, even when you are not present" yuuji starts, swallowing thickly as you continue to paint. "i have always seen you. since i was a boy. i want you to feel safe, and happy. anything that pleases you, pleases me in turn. when you hurt, i am hurt as well."

you choose not to say anything towards that for a moment. the silence is killing him. yuuji is practically vibrating in his chair.

"i have always wondered, what that feeling felt was called" you murmur softly, looking at him so clearly now. you place your brush down onto your palette, squeezing at the bodice of your dress—over your heart. "i have known very little happiness in my life. and i thought you...i thought you would be like the rest. and yet you have shown me the complete opposite of my expectations. you possess such goodness. it's a rare trait for most to have"

"if that is called love, then that is what i feel for you" you say determinedly, and yuuji had forgotten what it was that he was so upset about in the first place.

surprisingly, after that, the two of you don't talk about it. not openly. he doesn't need you too, he realizes. over the next few weeks, you continue to work on his portrait. yuuji doesn't understand much about painting and art in general—but what he knows is that you've already reached the point of needing him to sit for you. and yet, that doesn't stop you from offering anyway.

always, magically, you seem to sense that he needs a reprieve from the life of the almost-king. you pull him away into your world, where everything is peaceful and calm and quiet. it's different, from the times where he's had his portrait as a boy. he had always assumed he had been too restless, too energetic to sit still for so many hours.

and yet, whenever you tell him that you are finished for the day, yuuji is surprised to find how much time has passed. his body prickles, waking up. he gets so lost in watching you or daydreaming about you or some combination of the two that the time flies.

he's almost...saddened, when you finally finish it for good. you've sent for a few servants to carry it off into the dayroom—covered by a tarp. yuuji will be the only other person to see it. there's almost this, apprehensive look to you, brimming with excitement as your hands pull off the tarp.

"do you like it?" you ask, gazing at him with your wide brown eyes.

he is only half-aware of dropping his lemon tart to the ground. you've painted him in this half-surprised, half-joyful expression. but there's indescribable fondness in there too. there's the parting of his mouth—as if he is only waiting to exhale a breath. there's ruddiness to his cheeks and his eyes seem to be trained towards something just out of reach of the frame.

how long has he stared at you, for his gaze to be always trained towards you—even when immersed in a painting?

"is this is how you see me?" he asks, brown eyes darting from you to the portrait again, amazed.

you sidle up next to him, standing so close that yuuji has to wrap an arm around your shoulders, anchoring you to his side. "that's how you have always looked at me"

--

it's nearing your second anniversary. yuuji has your gift (s) hidden away in his study—where he is now. a collection of things he's found on his occasional travel throughout the kingdom. a yellow and blue day dress with gorgeous golden lace and flowing sleeves. he's always liked you in yellow, and the fabrics feel soft to the touch. ones he'll know you prefer to feel against your skin.

a very large tome about insects, seeing that you've finished what little the castle libraries have on the topic. a journal with a clasped lock, embroidered with pretty vines. so that you can jot down your findings and recite them to him later.

you've recently gotten into calligraphy, and yuuji had procured you nice pens which the vendor promised were prefer for the art. and finally, two tickets for the sleeping beauty ballet—on the last day of its showing, when there are guaranteed to be less people attending.

a little overboard perhaps, considering the fact that yuuji stops and gets you a gift no matter where he is. even if it is as simple as a rose. but he can't help but spoil you. you deserve it. and his reward is the delighted expression you make, and the soft breathless thank you, that passes your lips—ever sweet and genuine.

your fist knocks gently on his door. yuuji makes sure that your gifts are out of sight before telling you to enter. you do, but do not cross into his study. yuuji's brow quirks at the odd behavior. you hang onto the doorframe, grip tight.

"dear?" he inquires, standing up with a start. "is something wrong?"

you shake your head. "n-no. there isn't. i just. i'm ready."

a puzzled look befalls him, trying to discern your meaning. "ready for what?" you only stare imploringly at him. it hits him all at once, what you mean. what if i am never ready? his face turns bright red. "now?" he confirms.

"please" you warble "if you want—"

"of course i want to, love" yuuji interjects, before you can get in your head about it. he steps out from behind his desk, pushing aside the work he planned to finish before bed. his palm settles on the small of your back, guiding you back into the bedroom. further still, so that your bottom lands on the bed.

yuuji crawls in after you, gently pulling you forwards. his hand cups the side of your face—like he has so many times before, eyes fluttering shut as your mouths meet in a soft kiss. you seem to melt in it, bringing your arm up and around his shoulders. he pulls away, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before diving back in for another. and another, and a dozen more.

you squirm against him and sparks light up down his spine. yuuji's hand toys with the short sleeve of your silken fabric of your nightgown before pulling away. he needs both hands for this, untying the lacing for his breeches and top—but unwilling to separate from your mouth.

he tugs himself, almost impatiently, out of his shirt. it pulls the softest sound of laughter from your lips and yuuji nearly moans at the feeling of your hands pressing against his bare chest. your hand darts away at the sound—but yuuji intercepts the touch, pulling you back in.

yuuji dives back in for another kiss, tilting his head to deepen it as your hands curl up at the front of his chest. the two of you languidly kiss for a few more minutes as the arousal begins to slowly pool in both of your bodies. your hips twitch, bucking unconsciously against the hardness of his cock against your thigh.

his hand slides up the side of your body, once against playing with your nightgown. "lets get this off" he suggests softly, gently—like his isn't itching to feel your bare skin. you agree with a soft noise of consent, and a breathy okay, yuuji before you allow him to undo the lacings at the back of your nightgown.

he bunches it up at the bottom, knuckles skimming along your thighs before slowly pulling it up, up, up. his mouth waters as each inch of tantalizing skin is revealed to his eyes. he's never seen so much of you before, body usually covered by your dresses and underskirts. gently, yuuji presses you down against the bedding, bracketing your body with his own as his hand cups your supple breast.

untouched and unused to anyone touching you in such a way, you squirm, a soft sound leaving your lips as yuuji fondles your breast in his warm hand.

"is this okay?" he asks, kissing you again.

you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. his thigh slides between your legs, and he can feel the dampness of your panties. his thumb circles around your nipple, dragging his lips from your lips to your jaw and then down to your neck.

use your words, love, gently admonishes yuuji. i need to know if i'm hurting you.

"okay" you say softly, giving him a pleasured little sigh that doesn't do anything but make his cock ache. "yuujji—that feels good"

your skin pebbles underneath the touch. a moment later, and your nipple is stiff, pressing up against his fingers. yuuji switches to your other breast, angling his body to pull the right back into his mouth. his other hand splays across the warm skin of your stomach, skirting further down to your panty-clad mound.

there's a damp spot against the fabric. yuuji groans around your nipple at the feeling. wet already, and he's done nothing major but play with your breasts and kiss you until your both dizzy. he's going to make you feel so good. yuuji pulls away from your nipple with a wet pop!, fingers pushing your panties to the side as his fingers lightly trace through your folds.

the shape is familiar, and the sound of your moan echoes in his ears as he places the memory of the anatomy model against the real thing. yuuji studies your face, watching and cataloguing which touches make you squirm. which ones make you moan. and which ones make breathless exhales of his name pass through your lips.

you seem to like it best when he starts from the bottom, dragging two of his fingers around your entrance before skirting back up to press firm circles onto your hooded clit. your hips twitch and buck—seeking more friction.

"i'm going to put one in now" yuuji murmurs, spreading your thighs nice and wide for him. he can feel you stiffen up slightly and that won't do. his kisses you again, rubbing quickly on your clit to get your legs to fall open once more. he presses in, tucking his face against the crook of your neck to groan at the tightness of your cunt.

your hips squirm and wriggle, cunt clenching wetly around the intrusion for a moment. trying to push his finger out, before greedily sucking him in. your arms circle around his head, nails lightly scraping against his shoulder and back.

he fingers you slowly, pulling all the way out before pushing back in steadily. his cock is rock hard now and he can't help but to softly grind his cock against your body. "th—that feels good"

"yeah?" yuuji asks, sliding a second in along the first. "how does this feel? too much?"

you shake your head, biting at your lip again. and then you remember yuuji's earlier admonish, gasping out a "no-no. please don't stop" that has him nipping at your skin in deep curling satisfaction. he alternates between stretching you out, scissoring your cunt and between thrusting in an out two fingers becomes three and by the time he works you up to four, your so desperate for it that your thighs tremble and shake―toes curling.

"am, am i not ready now?" you ask, drool escaping your mouth. your eyes fly down to meet his own and the lust that reflects in them has him pulling his fingers out with a rush, licking them clean.

you rise up from the bed enough to help him out of his breeches and underwear, lying back down and spreading your legs. yuuji settles back between them, feeling your warm thighs underneath his hands―the heated supple flesh.

at the last moment, his hand darts out to grab one of the pillows, shoving it underneath your hips. at your questioning look, yuuji turns slightly pink for an entirely different reason.

"i've read that it helps with the penetration. makes it easier for a maidens first time" he explains softly, idly rubbing at your thigh to calm you. "and i'll reach deeper inside―which will feel really good"

it's your turn now, to wear an expression of slightly embarrassment. yuuji's body brackets yours more fully now and he begins to guide himself inside your sticky cunt. a soft, almost pained sound escapes you, replaced by another drawn out one. "you've...been reading?"

he's caught between watching your face and watching his cock sink inside inch after inch. "i inquired about it with your physician. she informed me that female pleasure requires more than male pleasure and―breathe love, there you go, you're doing so well―oh god, you feel so good."

his words bite off, snapping his hips forward and burying the last few inches inside of you with a groan. you yelp, thighs shutting before cracking open again, blinking up at him with wide eyes. you breathe, like he's told you to, visible as you settle around the sudden stretch.

"it doesn't hurt" you murmur quietly, like you can't quite believe it. your eyes go back up towards his face, hand settling around his bicep. "wh-what were you going to say?"

"your physician." yuuji starts, and then stops. his brows crinkle, and his hand trembles in the bedding with the effort it takes to hold still and not to just go wild. "she pointed me to a few books about female anatomy and pleasure―is it alright if i move now?"

you process his words, before nodding. a meek, "yes, please" falls from your lips and no sooner is he pulling out and pushing back in. a squeaky little noise leaves you, shadowed by yuuji's own moan as your tight cunt grips him. practically greedy, the way it's sucking him back in.

he understands now. why men go to war for their women. why they fight so hard and for so long, brutal. anything to be able to come back to this. he's never understood the appeal for sex―why men were so desperate to sleep with someone.

though you aren't just anyone. you're his wife, his sweet wife, nails pricking at his shoulders as his hips snap up to meet your own wriggling hips, little ah ah ah's leaving your lips, eyes fluttering shut and opening again. he feels that fondness bubbling up in his chest, love spilling out into each thrust into your sopping cunt, each fevered i love you, uttered into your skin.

yuuji leans forward to nip at your skin, sucking a mark along your collarbone when you make a loud moan, body seizing up like someone had just poured liquid fire over you. afraid that he's hurt you, yuuji pauses, lifting his head from the crux of your neck and shoulder―panic on his features.

you're quick to reassure him of the opposite. slurring, "no, noplease, please don't stop. please―" and he realizes, sort of late, that he's hit your spot.

"it's okay, sweetheart, love, i'm not stopping" yuuji promises, angling his hips and nailing that spot head-on. you make a litany of noises now, legs wrapped tightly around his waist and nails scrabbling along his back.

he loses himself in the feeling of your velvet heat. the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your round bottom fills the bedroom and the creaking of the bed adds a filthy undercurrent to the way yuuji is pleasuring you. he can feel your cunt clenching around him, throbbing and you're just as close as he is.

his mouth blindly finds yours, though the sloppy kiss is more tongue and teeth than any of the gentle finesse from earlier. yuuji props himself up on his elbow, driving his cock into you again and again, ramming against your g-spot―before slowing down into a sensual roll that has your hips lifting off the bed, chasing after him for more friction. his hand snakes down your body, returning to your clit.

it only takes a few more quick, rough circles on your sensitive nub for your body to tighten up and release, reaching out for him and panting out broken syllables of his name. it's a sound he won't ever be able forget.

yuuji pulls out, hand around his aching cock. jerking once and then twice, painting your thighs and cunt in thick stripes of hot seed. he collapses into bed beside you, curling around your naked body.

"was that your first time too?" you ask, turning to face him. though, its more like your face is in his chest and a moment later he can feel you mouth at the skin of his neck. it tickles, and he laughs, throat dry.

his hand rubs at your back, like he can't quite be separated from you just yet. nerves still thrumming with energy. he's decided that he'll follow after you into the bath, if you're comfortable with it. that'll be nice. bathing with you.

"it was" yuuji assures, gazing down at you. "i wanted you to be my first―if you wanted to at all." his first and his only. for the rest of his days. for as long as he's known you, he's been entranced. first with figuring you out, then with learning you overtime. and now simply, with being with you for the rest of his life.

a fond look passes over your face. you look just as fond as he does, smitten out of your mind. "i must make every woman in the kingdom extremely jealous, to have the heart of such a good man"

he's willing to argue that he's the luckier one. but exhaustion befalls your face, and you curl up further against him. moments later, you're deeply asleep.

the prince, nearly king now, presses a kiss to your slacken lips and follows you off into slumber.

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

𖦹 MORE THAN A WOMAN ⇆ abby anderson

┆︎summary ┆︎and they say vampires and werewolves don't get along.

┆︎tags┆︎werewolf! abby, vampire! reader, established relationship, they're so gross in love power bottom reader, domme reader, sub abby, werewolf biology...so...knotting, and dual sex werewolves...and also gp!abby, biting, marking, facesitting, strap-ons, orgasms control, a little overstim

┆︎wc┆︎2.8k

┆︎an┆︎if the concept of gp (girl penis) makes you uncomfortable i included the strap tag so you can delude yourself that way

abby presses her nose to the elegant slope of your neck. you tilt your head, just so―you probably don't even realize you're doing it. but in doing so, you allow her more room.

"you smell like other vamps" she grumbles, slightly peeved. "it stinks"

your body shifts underneath her own. a page turns in your book, audible in the otherwise quiet bedroom. "well get off of me then" you reply, though your arm is wrapped pretty tightly around her waist―keeping her anchored right where she is. you're freakishly strong when you want to be. "i would hate to upset your delicate senses"

below the somewhat pungent scent of vampires, dead and decaying, sticking to your skin, there is the scent of your soap. so, you had tried to get rid of it. despite her jokes, abby knows you know that she doesn't really mind it as much as she says she does. and she's more than content to stay in your lap like this for the rest of the night―since there has been an apparent early end to your nightly activities.

"no way" she says, chuffing against your skin. "you couldn't get rid of me even if you tried."

"well it's a good thing i have no intention of doing so" is your smooth response, adjusting your hold on your book to wind her braid over your fingers.

"what did you get up to tonight?" abby asks. sometimes she likes to follow after you when you go out. but mostly not. there's a better thrill to be found watching you come home all bloodied―adrenaline from a good kill sitting against your skin. "did you and the girls have fun?"

besides. vampire's aren't too keen of werewolves, and the sentiment is returned. whenever she's present, abby isn't spared from a barrage of condescending remarks from your friends―but she knows you delight when they call her your wolf. vampires, you included, like to play mean. abby likes it, but only when it comes from you.

a chuckle. "a time we had, certainly. gambling"

abby nips at the side of your throat and then whistles lowly. "that's my girl"

your hand fists more tightly in her hair, winding her braid around your hand like a leash―pulling her back just a fraction. there's something disarming in your gaze, tongue running over your fangs absentmindedly as you stare. "and you? what did my precious puppy get up to tonight?"

"well, y'know" abby starts, face flushing bright red. from shame or arousal, she can't tell. with you, it's most likely a little bit of both. it's no secret to anyone that she turns into a lapdog around you―eager to please and be doted on. and the name puppy is as endearing as it is teasing when it comes from you. "figured since you didn't feed yesterday, or tonight that you might be thirsty. went and stocked up for you"

you perk up at that, fondness seeping into every pore of your face. so much so that abby flushes again, looking elsewhere. "such a sweetheart" you murmur, dragging your knuckles down the side of her face.

"yeah" abby says, a beat too late, swallowing thickly―awkwardly shifting her hips against your lower thighs. your brows quirk up immediately when you feel her half-mast against your nightgown. "i deserve a reward. for being such a good girlfriend"

you huff a laugh. "you really are a dog, aren't you?" you tease, but acquiesced with a sinful little smile. abby shivered minutely, feeling your words brush up against her skin. "mm. come up here so i can kiss you"

wow that actually worked? she thinks in the back of her mind, clambering up to press her mouths to yours, eager and sloppy. nasty and filthy on purpose, delighting in the way your hand curls around her braid, moving her how you please. she's careful not to slice her tongue against your fangs―moaning a soft, baby, please, can i? into the kiss, rutting against the center of your thighs so that it's impossible not to know what she means.

it's like all of her senses are tuned to you. the sight of your face morphing into pleasure when her cock slides just right against your panties. how good it feels, wet. the smell of your arousal in the air, scent just as sweet slick as your cunt. your breath panting slightly in her ear and the taste of wine on your tongue.

but you're never one to give in easily. even as worked up as you are, your voice sounds perfectly cool when you say, "earn it" eyes all lidded with desire, gazing at abby expectantly. the only thing that gives away even the slightest bit of desire from you is the way you snap your book closed, shoving it to the far corners of the bed.

abby nods, half drunk off your scent alone, nosing against the side of your throat. she finds it in herself to pull away―just barely though―sitting back on her haunches to admire your body below her. the strap of your silk nightgown has slipped down to rest around your shoulder. she can easily see the dip of your breasts. and the lace edging of it has lifted up, exposing just the lower parts of your underwear, thighs plush and soft when her hand moves to massage the skin there.

she curls her hands underneath the hem of her tank top, pulling it up and off in one rushed go. shucking down her pants and awkwardly shoving those away too. your eyes rake down her body―appreciative.

"you're so soft" abby murmurs, sliding her hand down your legs, staring reverently at you. her mouth waters for you. hands trembling from sheer need alone when she begins to push your nightgown up inch by tantalizing inch. she's seen you naked hundreds of times already, but still can't hardly believe her eyes when she sees just how perfect you are. "so pretty"

you hum softly, spreading your legs nice and wide for her. and you giggle at the groan that leaves her lips at the sight of the damp patch on your lace panties. god, her hands itch to just fucking rip them off.

"don't rip them this time" you chastise, as if reading her mind. you beckon her forwards, groping at her tits as she devours your mouth. your nails rake down her torse, adding pressure when they reach her abs. abby pitches forward―moaning into the kiss needily, growing sharper in pitch when your hand suddenly closes around her cock.

"baby―" she gasps, pulling away to pant against the crux of your neck. her hips shift, bucking up readily into the feeling, chasing it desperately.

your laugh echoes in her ears and your hand pulls away. and before she can really realize it, you utilize that sexy vampire strength to flip your positions. you stare down at her like a predator does prey, eyes smoky and so hot it makes her cock twitch.

"what to do with you" you say, sing-songy, dancing your fingers up the side of her body.

abby swallows. "whatever you want" she promises, immediately. you raise your hips and her hands work to help you out of your underwear, smearing your essence against her fingers, feeling the stickiness web between her fingers.

"dirty girl" you say, voice giving away just how aroused you are, watching as she lifts them to her lips to suck them clean. and the two of you seem to be moving on the same wavelength, because when you raise your hips once more, abby is doing the rest of the work―pulling you to sit directly on her face.

a soft moan leaves your lips at the first contact, eyes flickering down to meet her own. her tongue laps eagerly at your cunt, flattening to slurp up your juices. you taste so good, and her eyes flutter shut as she gets lost in the taste. your knees relax into the mattress next to her head, a louder moan leaving your lips as you begin to rock back and forth against her face.

you chase your pleasure, alternating between swiveling your hips and grinding against her tongue. your hand smooths away the flyway's from her face, groaning out a soft fuck, good girl abby, when her tongue flicks up against your clit at the right moment. your skin is pleasantly cool, always is―and abby's fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, guiding your hips into a purposeful grind.

her tongue swipes through your folds, slipping into your cunt. your eyes widen, and your body pitches forwards, nails scraping at the wall for purchase before digging into the wood of the headboard. she likes watching pleasure take over you, twisting and shifting underneath your skin. your hair twists over your shoulder, neck craned to the side as soft sounds leave your lips and abby can hear the sound your nails make as the scratch down the wood.

your eyes meet and abby isn't ashamed at all to say her cock twitches at the hazy look in your dark brown eyes. cool air hits her mouth when you lift your hips. there's no patience left in you when you shift off of her face completely. abby moves when you move―understanding what you want without you even having to say it.

abby settles you down on your back and your legs part wide and open, spanning your fingers across the lower part of her pelvis, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. she scootches in, shuffling forward on her knees. her hand wraps the base of her cock, jerking it a few times to smear the precum everywhere. her hand cups your cunt, feeling the way it spasms underneath her heated palm, slicking her cock up nicely with your essence.

she likes watching your face whenever she pushes into your tight cunt―always has. you almost always throw your head back, and make this odd little sound, a cross between a grunt and a keen. and then your thighs twitch. always. she's obsessed with the way your body moves and twists. so alive.

"not too much?" she asks, checking in, grunting when she bottoms all the way out. "fuck, sweetheart. how are you always so tight?"

"mmm" you hum noncommittally, wriggling your hips a little bit at the stretch. your eyes flutter open, gazing at the place where your bodies are connected. your voice is more than a little dazed when you part your pretty lips to say, "and you're always so big"

abby doesn't bother to hide the way she preens, hands sliding down the length of your body. her wide palms settle on your hips, guiding your body against hers in a smooth circular motion―grinding her cock deep into your cunt. her brows knit in pleasure, fingers digging into your skin to stop herself from cumming too early. it feels like she could. your cunt is sucking her cock in like a vice.

your hand fists in the sheets directly adjacent to your head, moaning quietly when abby settles on her knees and begins to properly fuck into your wet heat. a curse leaves your lips, back arching off the bed as her cock pounds into your dripping cunt again and again. she can see the way your slick shines along her cock every time she pulls out, waiting till only the tip is inside you before roughly shoving back in. you feel like absolute heaven, gripping her so tight, so warm where the rest of you runs deathly cold.

the force of her heavy thrusts causes your tits to bounce, stomach clenching and quivering as moans pour freely from your throat. abby can feel sweat beading along her hairline―forcing herself to go faster, cock twitching inside you when you utter out a shaky, "f-fuck. abs. yes, yesyesfuck―shit, right there"

her hand gropes at your tit, fondling your nipple between her thick fingers before her hand slides off your chest all together. you're absolutely gushing, getting slick everywhere, making everything messy with it.

your hand slides up her arm, pulling her forwards to smash your lips together. it's nothing but teeth and tongue, and abby bites her lip so hard it bleeds, and you're quick to lick it up―moaning at the taste. a choked noise comes from her throat, grunting as her hips slam against your ass.

"baby―" abby pants, pulling back enough to stare at the entirety of your face. something possessive twists inside her, desperate for the way you gasp and lose yourself in the pleasure she's giving you. desperate to let everyone else know who you belong to, as if it isn't already obvious. something that makes her want to eat you or keep you close, away from prying eyes. maybe a little bit of both. "baby, can i? fuck―i'm so close"

you crane your neck to the side, legs kicking out when abby immediately latches down onto the skin between your neck and shoulder and bites. hard. her tongue is quick to soothe over the pain. she's close, right there and, fuck―she'll pop her knot in you any second now. a whispery moan leaves her throat, abs clenching as she nears her climax. she pitches forward, tucking her head into the sheets next to your head as her hips buck wildly into your pussy.

"oh i know that sound. don't you dare." you spit, eyes boring into her face, even as her thrusts grow sloppy and uncoordinated. "you're not cumming yet abby. i'll ride this cock until you're crying if you do"

she knows you'll make good on your promise. you have before. abby makes that same sound again, nibbling at your neck and shoulder. "i can't. 'm so close, baby―sweetheart, let me cum"

your hand pushes onto her shoulder, sliding along the sweaty skin there. she can feel her knot swelling before she sees it, cock flushed an angry red―throbbing and twitching inside of you. then your hand slides from her shoulder to her neck. not squeezing. not restricting her airflow at all.

just...claiming. your eyes level with hers. "harder." you demand, and abby groans pathetically as she obeys. your hand flies down to your clit, moaning loudly as you rub circles onto the sensitive nub. the headboard slams against the wall, a steady band in time with the pace she drives into your pliant body. the room is filled with the filthy noise of your fucking―abby's grunts and groans, the bedsprings squeaking underneath you. and your own moans, high pitched and trembling, voice dipping into high little keens as you demand her to pick up the pace.

your legs threaten to snap shut but abby forces them open even as your back bows off the bed. a string of curses leave your lips, eyes screwed tightly shut as you finally cum. "baby―baby, please" abby gasps, feeling her knot catch against your entrance with every messy thrusts. "i gotta cum, please, let me―"

your hands rake down her front. you make a mean sound, a condescending little hum that has pleasure sparking down her spine.

"awwww" you say, tugging her forwards by her braid again. her hips couldn't stop even if she wanted to, eyes unfocused as they train on you. your body twitches, toes curling, knees pushed up to your chest now even as overstimulation begins to settle in for both of you. "is my little puppy going to pop her knot soon?"

abby makes a pained whimper against your neck at the familar nickname, gnawing on your skin―panting wetly against it. hardly manages to get out another shaky, pl-please, please baby.

your hands sweep the mess of her hair out of her face. a soft moan leaves your lips, hand cupping her tits. "go ahead sweetheart, you earned your reward" and she cums immediately, hands scrabbling at the sheets as she goes shock still―knot pushing inside of you, locking you together. a guttural groan leaves her lips, feeling so good her vision goes white and when she comes to again its to the soft murmurs of praise you murmur into her skin.

"that was a big one" you tease, once she feels like herself enough to pull back to stare at you expectantly. her face turns bright red in embarrassment.

"sh..shut up" abby stammers, sliding her eyes away, feeling the knot swell down long enough to be able to safely pull out. you were right, but her cum trickles out of your puffy cunt in steady rivulets―which does nothing but add to her shame.

--

"jesus, fuck what happened to your neck?" your head turns up to the sound of your mutual friend, nora. she bends down, finger hovering in midair. "you look like you were mauled by a bear"

you shuffle the deck of cards in between your deft fingers, sliding a slow smirk abby's way. she at least has the right idea to stiffen up, looking away guiltily when all eyes zero in on her.

manny huffs, shaking his head with a laugh. "more like a wolf" he says, and this time, everyone joins in to laugh.

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

𖦹 MOONLIGHT ON THE RIVER ⇆ keigo "hawks" takami

┆︎summary ┆︎you're the only one for him. you have to know that, you have to.

┆︎tags┆︎established relationship, hurt/comfort, vanilla sex, intimacy, body worship, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving)

┆︎wc┆︎2.01k

┆︎an┆︎idk i don't think we give vanilla enough credit i'm sorry i can't be freaked out 24/7. and yes this title comes from a song by the same title by mac demarco.

this is your first real healthy relationship in...maybe ever.

the most you and keigo ever argue about are chores. or which unlucky soul has to be the one to get out of bed and answer the door for the delivery guy. sometimes he says he'll take out the trash but when you get home from work, it's still there. he says you always leave your shoes in the middle of the walkway (you don't) and that he can't help but trip over them.

things that are big disputes for most couples, like the leasing or the topic of parents and family―those are always discussed civilly. both of you reach the agreement that you'll talk when you've sorted through your emotions. when you're calm. in fact, you don't even think keigo's so much as raised his voice at you the entire two years you've been together. you only realize how easy it is with keigo whenever you confront the real fear that you could lose him.

"hey, turtledove" keigo says from somewhere near your left. you manage enough of your strength to shift your eyes to him. just enough that he should know you aren't purposefully ignoring him when you inevitably do not answer.

he stands in the doorway of the bathroom, clad in only a pair of simple black boxers. fresh from the shower, if the steam billowing into the bedroom is anything to go by. you remember him getting in, promises of, we'll talk when i get out, let you get your thoughts together murmured quietly into your cheek when he kissed you farewell.

you don't know how long he's been in there. just that you've been staring up at the ceiling, trying to muddle through the murk of your feelings. there's a soft creak in the bed, keigo's knee hitting the mattress as he lightly prods at you again.

it's not fair to him, you think idly. the way you're acting. silent and distant, lost in thought. but you're oh so weak to him and you turn over on your side so that you don't have to look at him. five years of therapy and all you can manage is a quiet, "it's nothing you did, keigo. i'm just...i need to―have to keep-"

a frustrated sound escapes you. it isn't him and you don't want him to blame himself. it's you and your doubting mind, that's the issue. and you hate when you get like this. keigo's hand settles at the small of your back, gently rubbing up and down comfortingly. then, his hand dances up your back, over your shoulder as he gently urges you onto your back again.

his shadow settles over you comfortably, and the way the moon settles behind him makes him look beautiful. like something unattainable. there's a knit of confusion and concern in the center of his brows and his hand settles over your breast, next to your heart.

"i'm worried about you turtledove" keigo says, after a while, voice quiet in the short distance between you. "it's not like your usual off days" he tacks on after a while. followed up shortly by a please in a tone that's uncharacteristically begging for him.

"you're the first good thing i've had...in a while, keigo" you tell him shakily, eyes roving over his face as you watch him piece the puzzle together. "i want to be good enough to keep you, if that makes sense"

it's stupid, juvenile. you know keigo loves you. anyone with a pair of decent pair of working eyes can see that. there's a long pause, emotions flitting over keigo's face as he sorts out his own thoughts.

the sheets rustle as he mirrors your position on the bed ; flat on his back, head craned to stare deeply at you.

"you never have to worry about that" keigo promises, voice strong and sure. "i'm not going anywhere, you know that"

and you do. but its no secret the sort of man keigo was when you met. some model or actress or hero in his bed every night, faces plastered all over the news. you aren't any of those things and until now, there was no real reason for you to worry about that.

"i know" you reply, meaning it. "i guess i just. i feel...a little insecure. i love you so much. i don't want to lose you"

the rational part of your brain agrees. but the irrational part―the part of you that has just been so loud these past three days. that's the part you can't silence.

"i can't see myself with anyone else. i don't want to" keigo says, and you find yourself chuckling softly. he pinches your side, darting down to kiss your cheek and then the corner of your mouth. and finally, a proper kiss at last. "don't laugh at me. i mean it."

you know keigo wouldn't do something as baseless as cheat. you've long gotten over the fear that any man would cheat, chasing after the first young skirt he sees. you've been cheated on before. you know that if keigo wanted to, he would. you could control his every move but if keigo was that type of man, nothing you could do would be enough to stop him. but he doesn't. for some reason beyond you, keigo is perfectly happy bickering over your shoes in the walkway and what to make for dinner.

"i mean it" he says again, eyes reverent and voice serious. he kisses you once more, moving his mouth against your own and your reciprocation is more than enough for the chaste kisses to grow in ferocity. "she's nothing to me. not compared to you. you're..."

keigo trails off. gently rubs the back of his knuckles down the side of your cheek. he sits back on his haunches, simply admiring the view and you don't bother to hide the fact that you're doing the same.

his hands slide down the length of your body, curling underneath your thighs to pull you in closer. his voice takes on that same begging tone from earlier. "tell me you understand" he pleads.

"i know" you promise in return. "i love you"

your hand pulls through his hair. keigo pushes his face into your hand like a cat seeking heat. he kisses you again, a series of kisses that burn like liquid fire in your veins. laying claim and reassurance in the same breadth.

"i love you too" he murmurs into the skin of your neck, voice more of a purred rumble than anything else. those beautiful red wings are tucked, folded neatly over one another, and when his back arches slightly so that he can rub greedy hands all over you―and you see that the feathers twist and shine in the moonlight.

a moment of silence passes. keigo toys with the hem of your sleep shirt. asking permission. "anything i can do?"

"keep going please" you swallow thickly, trying to mask the neediness in your voice. by the long look keigo gives you in return, you can tell it hadn't worked.

he stares like he's trying to unravel you. its as unnerving as it is pleasurable, and you shift underneath him, trying to turn away.

keigo doesn't like that. clicks his tongue, gently cupping your jaw and turning your face so that you're eye to eye. once more, the staring starts. his gaze is purposeful, intent as he watches you―free hand gently playing with the waistband of your plain cotton underwear.

"you just need to look at me" he whispers, pushing your underwear to the side. the cool air brushes against your heated cunt, and keigo stares at the exposed flesh as if he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

goosebumps rise on your arms at the notion.

and he's nothing if not efficient. no sooner than the words leaving his mouth and he's twisting, getting comfortable and his mouth is enveloping your sticky cunt. a choked off noise escapes you, and without him needing to direct you, you spread your legs to make more room for him to settle between them.

soft pinpricks of pleasure dance down your spine, clenching tightly in your lower stomach. keigo massages the soft skin of your ankle, humming into your cunt as his lips circle around your clit.

another feeble whimper tears from your throat and you shift, throwing one leg and then the other across his shoulders. keigo rolls with the motion, not once separating from your cunt as he switches from dragging his tongue through your folds and suckling on your clit.

you roll your hips against his face, seeking more of that friction. another sound, the cracked syllables of keigo's name leaving your lips as you stare down at his blond hair peeking from between your thighs. he's content to let you shift and writhe against his face―but not before long and he's pressing your hips down into the mattress to keep you still.

two thick fingers slide into your cunt―the ache at the stretch quickly passes over to pleasure, too much, nearly overwhelming. keigo only shushes you softly, kissing at your inner thigh absentminded almost. and then his tongue is returning to your sensitive clit, laving over it again and again and again.

keigo pulls away slow, like it kills him. his fingers are pulled out of you completely, but only for a moment―just long enough to pull your underwear down your thighs and flinging them across the room like they've personally cursed him. his hand presses you down again, because you've started to squirm restlessly, spreading your thighs so far apart that it almost hurts.

"not too much?" keigo inquires, rubbing the soft skin of your inner thigh almost reverently.

you shake your head, voice clogging up in your throat. "no. keigo―"

the way you say his name is almost helpless, a plea. keigo murmurs a soft, i know sweet girl, i'll give you what you need, and returning to kiss your clit, sliding his fingers back inside. you make a sound, a cross between a squeal and a groan when keigo pushes his fingers in so deep, crooking them just right, rubbing incessantly against your g-spot.

your fingers tighten around the sheets, palm slick with sweat as your back arches off the bed. keigo makes no move to hold you down this time―instead doubling, tripling his efforts. there's the ever-so-familiar coil in your belly, uncurling faster and faster. your breath picks up, whines more pronounced.

with just one more suckle at your clit, just one more curl of his fingers deep inside you has you falling apart with a jagged moan, fingers tightening so hard in the strands of keigo's blond locks that he makes a soft grunt below you. keigo doesn't work you through it, instead slowly pulling his fingers out to push them into his mouth instead, watching you with intense focus as you climax.

you fall back, completely boneless. it would be uncomfortable, being nearly trapped under the driven way keigo stares at you, if you weren't already so used to it. so instead, you catch your breath, listening as your gasps even out to soft puffs of air.

"good?" keigo asks, once you've come back to yourself. your chin dips to your collarbone in a shaky nod.

it means so many things. good? as in, are you feeling okay? did he do a good job? do you need more? good? as in, do you understand now?

there's no doubt in your mind now. not when the moonlight shrouds keigo in an ethereal light and he stares down at your naked body like he has witnessed god himself craft you whole. his past, your past―it's exactly that. something of the past.

his present and his future, both of them are yours.

"are you?" you ask, tugging him down to kiss him, tasting your essence on his tongue. "good?"

you can feel keigo smile against your mouth, against the side of your face, dipping down to kiss right over your heart. "as long as you are"

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

𖦹 WHO HAVE I REMEMBERED? ⇆ touya "dabi" todoroki

┆︎summary ┆︎you find that love can create curses the same way they dismantle them.

┆︎tags┆︎the frog prince au, came back wrong trope, princess reader, prince turned usurper touya, obsessive behavior, survivor's guilt, stockholm syndrome, fade to black sex

┆︎wc┆︎5.1k

┆︎an┆︎my entry for @ljubimaya 's grim nightmares collab ! and special thanks to ethel cains new album for getting me through this. i tried something new with the formatting/writing style cause i wanted to go with discordant storytelling so let me know how you guys like that.

null.

the court whispers that you and your sisters―the kings daughters, were born from the wishes of faeries. and you, the eldest, even more so. what other way could it be explained, besides magic? that the sun kissed your cheeks each morning when it rose, and the world seemed more bleak when you were not around.

you, only short of eleven years, pay little attention to this. in fact, you pay little attention to anything that does not interest you. and lately―your latest obsession is the well outside of the castle gates.

in order to sneak away from your guards and your servants, you don a simple frilled hood and sneak through the passage-ways of the dungeon. and in the palms of your hands is your treasured ball, golden and full of sparkling light. a gift from your mother―who passed giving birth to your youngest sister.

the well reminds you of your mother, you think. and maybe that is why it entrances you so. you sit on it now, half an hour later. the stone is cool and slightly wet, where it touches slivers of bare skin. you toss the golden ball up and catch is easily in your hands. the forest is awake, but not yet bursting with energy. the birds sing their morning songs and occasionally you can hear a shrub rustle in the distance. a rabbit or dear, most likely.

it's soft, but you can hear it. the water inside the well bobbing along.

your mother had been obsessed with water. the ocean, lakes and rivers. she sketched and painted it all of the time. you never understood what was so captivating about them. only that her pieces of art were as beautiful as she had been. as miserable, and bleak, too.

the next toss of your golden ball is much higher, spurned from the strength of escaping thoughts of your deceased mother. you watch as it soars into the air, bright even against the blue sky. it comes hurtling down just as fast and you hold out your hands to catch it. the ball skims past your fingertips and you seem to watch it all in slowed motion as it lands deep within the well with a plop!

you move quickly, bracing your hands over the edge of the well with a gasp. but the well is too dark and much too deep for you to even begin to see to the bottom. even your ball, golden and bright, is swallowed up by its darkness. the tears prick up along your waterline, trickling down your brown cheeks in slow, steady streams before bursting into full-flamed sobs.

you cry and wail, kicking at the side of the well. your fists beat down on the stones and your grief chokes you. your fingers scrape against its surface, taking the moss underneath your nails.

"princess? what's wrong?" a voice calls out, approaching from your left. you turn towards the voice, staring into the face of an impassive young boy. he has a head of shock white hair, blue eyes that seem to stare so hard that they pass through you.

you don't like it. not one bit. you wipe your tears determinedly with the puffed sleeve of your gown, gesturing towards the well.

"i am crying because my golden ball fell in the stupid well" you explain, eyes narrowing with anger as you glare once more at the well. "it was a gift from my mother. i need it"

"i'll get it for you" the boy offered, staring between you and the well in equally unnerving moments.

you scoff, though the boy's foolish gesture warms you anyway. "don't be an idiot. it's gone f-forever. the well is too deep for anyone to go down. especially you, you're too small"

"i can" the boy stresses, which such conviction that it makes you pause. he relaxes the tense line of his shoulders and stares at you for a while longer. you don't know why you feel so inclined to believe him. he's a stranger, and dressed plainly. "for a price"

"whatever you want" you promise, not really thinking about it. your eyes drift to the well. you're going to get your ball back. "how about fancy clothes? pretty gems? a feast thrown in your honor? you can have it all, if you can get my ball back for me"

the boy frowns. "i do not want any of that. i want you to marry me. if you give me your hand, then i will go and get your ball for you"

"alright. fine" you acquiesce, shrugging one shoulder and without so much of another word, the boy jumps into the well. alarmed, you yell out for him, peering over the edge into the dark abyss.

moments later, your ball soars into the air and lands beside your feet with a thud.

one.

your father says socializing is perhaps the most important duty of a princess. engaging with the members of the court, with the nobles―all to find a good match. at just shy of sixteen years, you only care to socialize for the sole purpose of dressing up. spending days on selecting the perfect gown, the shoes to match. the art of your maids styling your hair, applying the gentlest forms of makeup upon your face. coming home to your castle after a long day, just to repeat the process again the next week.

unlike your younger sisters, you thrive at court life. the dancing, the rules of conversation, you understand it all. some part of you likes the attention. the boys who throw themselves at your feet, pushing at one another to please you. it fills your mind with a sense of power, of control.

you press your gloved palm to a lords, a smile dancing on your face as he whisks you across the floor. the music carries you and the lord―unnamed because you care not to know, fluttering from the tips of your toes into the smallest hair on the crown of your head.

the lord begins to pull you in. there's a curly mustache on top of his lip. his hand hovers along the small of your back, prepared to dip you, maybe. you never get a clear conclusion to his actions, because touya is wrenching him away from you.

his blue eyes are narrowed in anger. he heaves a breath, and one scathing look in the lords direction is enough to send the grown man scattering away.

"touya" you whine petulantly, in the middle of the ballroom floor. people turn their heads, sparing you only a glance before tearing away again. they know better than to interrupt the crown prince. and you should know better than to invoke his wrath like this. "that's not fair, i was dancing―"

"his hands were all over you" touya interjects, hissing the words at you. his white hair has been combed neatly and his hands shake when they reach out for you. you allow the movement, and the dance begins anew. touya seems to be replacing the lords hands with his own, touching the small of your back, palms pressed together.

"we're not married yet" you remind him cheekily, letting him spin you around before you're pulled in close once more. your eyes catch on his doublet, the intricate pattern work in his house colors. your dress, empire waist with elegant beadwork has been done to mirror his as well. "father still has to accept your proposal, in fact" its wrong to tease him, you know it is. but you can't help it.

"he will" touya hisses again. his hand tightens around your waist. he's so horribly endearing when he's angry, like a hissing kitten. the crown prince is close to you in age, a year older. where most people are afraid to anger him, fearing his wrath―you can only imagine him being that same fool hearted boy who leaped head first into a well to retrieve your ball for you.

but it is perhaps the wrong thing to say after all, because the crown prince takes one final glance at your smiling face and roughly pulls you from the floor. you protest, trying to pull away. touya only tightens his grip and drags you further into the darkened halls outside of the ballroom.

"touya―mmpfh!" the prince pushes you into one of the rooms, shutting the door behind him with his foot. he presses you against and swallows the sound of his name on your lips with a searing kiss. one of his hands braces against the door behind your head and the other remains possessively on your hip. he brings up one hand briefly to cup your chin, moving your head to deepen the kiss.

you've kissed him before. mostly chaste little things, sweet presses of your mouths together when the two of you are alone. but nothing like this. the way touya kisses you now feels like ownership, devouring your mouth and restricting your movements, knee pushing between your skirts.

his tongue swipes against the seam of your lips. you open them obediently, to which you've earned a gentle caress on your hip, and his tongue twines with yours.

touya pulls away string of saliva connecting your mouths as he stares down at you. you pant, trying to catch your breath―unable to hide the sound that escapes you when he pushes his face into your neck, pressing biting sharp kisses there as well.

your betrothed stops sucking a mark into your neck long enough to bite out the words, "you are my wife, i won't share you. not with anyone." drunk in it you nod along, hand squeezing his shoulders as arousal settles in the bottom of your stomach, new and foreign. "say it."

"i-i'm your wife" you whine into a series of kisses. you aren't married yet. your father is still thinking on the betrothal. he could reject it at any time. he could be rejecting it right now.

touya's hand slides under your skirts, pressing against heated skin, and that doubting little voice falls quiet.

two.

the wedding will go on, no matter your conflicting feelings on it.

it feels too soon. touya died only two years ago. you loved him. it feels wrong to marry someone else. every inch of you is pulling you towards someone you cannot have. you need more time. yet you say nothing, as your maids usher you from the tub into a warm towel. they scrub at your skin, drying the water from your flesh.

the war has just ended. there on the throne, on touya's throne―sits an usurper. your father's people, your people, they have lost loved ones. women who have lost their husbands, much like you have. children, without fathers. resources that are scarce and dwindling. and yet your father thinks a marriage will united the kingdom.

play your part, your father had said. what the people need now is something to make them happy. you stare bitterly into your reflection as the maids bring out the wedding gown. the one you were supposed to be wed in, when you were going to be wed to touya―that one had been destroyed. you don't even want to look at this one. it is like everyone is trying to take his memory from you.

you screw your eyes shut as the dress is pulled onto your frame. lace and tulle scratch against your brown skin. you want to claw out of yourself desperately. to be anyone else.

the maids murmur quietly amongst themselves. you are a vision, they say. you can hide no longer, and your eyes must open. you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror and you hate what you see. its not the dress you would have chosen. you look mature and wise, elegant beyond your years. you look nothing like the girl who chased touya through the gardens, tumbling with him on the grasses.

you look like a queen―regal. you do not look like the girl touya kissed under the moonlight as he held your hand. your hand comes up to your neck absentminded, searching for the ring he had given you, dangling on pure silver. it is not there, you realize a moment too late, and your hand connects with the smooth bare skin there instead.

your eyes slide over to the chest, where you have kept it safe since the night prior. it isn't wise to marry a man with a ring of another around your throat. even you know that.

but still, each step towards your husband-to-be feels traitorous. all eyes are on you, and the wedding march plays and all you can think about is how much you want to run away. but you are a coward, so all you do is keep your head straight as you continue down the aisle of the cathedral.

the priest begins with the ceremony. your heart feels like lead in your stomach and a feeling of pure dread encompasses you. your fingers shake from where they are wrapped around the stem of the bouquet. the man you are to marry stands across from you, smile on his face.

there is nothing to be joyous about. your husband turns that smiling gaze towards you now, and you feel the priests eyes on you as well. you open your mouth to prepare to speak your vows. your voice is hushed and you have to clear your throat softly to try again.

the sounds of men yelling outside wash over the quiet cathedral. several heads turn towards the doors, you among them. there are more shouts and moments later the doors burst open.

even from where you stand, you know by the glint of silvery steel on his helm that this man is the usurper. the man is followed by a small group of armed men as they charge into the cathedral. one of your own knights unsheathes his blade at your fathers command, and you can do nothing but stand there are more blades are uncovered―glinting in the morning light.

you swallow a gasp as the usurper cuts down the knight, spraying blood and viscera among the guests, making his way towards you determinedly. the cathedral is thrown into disarray as the usurper and his men charge, cutting down those who stand in their way. you throw down your bouquet, cursing the tightness of the dress that doesn't allow you much movement at all―trying to flee.

the usurper reaches you, pulling you towards him. several men hold your husband, and even if you did not want to marry him, you bear no ill-will towards him. and when he stabbed through the chest, you cry out for him all the same. the usurper turns towards you once more and he stares at you―you know he is, you can feel it even with the helm obscuring his face.

"let me go! let me go, let me, stop touching me!" you shout, fists pounding against the chest of the usurper. you fight against him, scratching and squirming. though you might as well be kicking mere pebbles against him, with the way he doesn't move. tears cloud your vision and soon your fight wears out of you.

without a word, the usurper reaches forwards―gripping your arm far too gently as he takes the ring from your finger and tosses it among the remains of your husband with a scathing growl.

"i wont' share you" the usurper says, voice gravelly and rough as recognition dawns on you. your eyes widen, and the usurper drags you to the front doors.

"touya?" you ask, eyes glistening with fresh tears. the usurper stiffens but does not answer you.

though, not answering is answer enough.

three.

he insists that you call him dabi, now. the name fills your mouth with bile and so you refuse. he is touya―you have to believe that the man who stands before you now is your touya. he is still yours. sour and mercurial. the touya that loves you deeply, that loves you purely. dabi is the one who yells, who accuses you of horrible things―of abandoning him. who tells you that this, the life you live now, is your fault.

the ballroom carries on in merry feasting. everyone present seems to be wholly engrossed in dancing, in the meal. no one pays much attention to the usurper king and his wife. or perhaps, they are all like you―pretending that nothing has changed.

touya's arm leans across your chair, draping over your shoulder. it is a miracle that you do not shudder when his fingers dance along the skin of your jaw. his mouth presses close to your ear and you can feel him gently playing with the neckline of your wedding dress. "are the festivities not to your liking?" he inquires, whispering. this time, you do shudder.

"i-i'm content" you reply, swallowing your nerves. you can feel the way touya continues to stare at you. a month ago, still new to your life here as the usurpers wife―you tried everything you could to rebel. you refused to eat, scratched at him every time he came near.

and one morning, he had the chefs prepare your favorite. fluffy pancakes, drowning in sticky syrup. sliced fruit and yogurt on the side. a tall glass of chilled orange juice, free of pulp. again―you had refused the meal. dabi had leaned over you on the bed, gently cupping your cheek.

"is it not to your liking, wife?" he had asked, always with the wife. as if he was making up for lost time. but to you, it only felt like a reminder of your place beside him. you had stubbornly shook your head and moments later dabi had the chefs brought into your chambers and slain.

you do not doubt for a second that dabi would have every noble in this room slain if he felt like it, guided by twisted morals. you don't want anyone else to die for you. you don't want him to kill anyone else. "i'm happy, touya" you say once more, plastering a smile onto your face. you force yourself to look at him―the scars and the charred flesh. his hair, dyed black now. the soullessness of his blue eyes.

moments of silence pass. you play with your hands in your lap, anxious as you wait for his visible displeasure to pass. touya continues to stare at you, and without another word, he stands.

fear washes over you. he stares down at you, eyes roving over your face. "we're to retire for the night, my dear" he says, sounding almost like touya again as he helps you from your chair. you know what's to come.

guards are posted up and down the halls, spears raised and at the ready. each nods in your direction, acknowledging their king and queen. touya moves steadily forwards getting closer to your shared chambers.

you had caved once, earlier in the week, and asked one of your elder servants how her first time had gone. her hair was graying and you knew she must have a had a child already. she did not answer you, not immediately, braiding down your hair.

"it's going to hurt" she told you, staring down at you pityingly "men do not understand that they have to be gentle, for a maidens first time. you have to relax and let the worst of it pass"

touya's mouth claims yours the moment you two are alone. it feels invasive, like he's trying to crawl into your body from your mouth and stay there. you try to kiss him back, but he dominates the kiss so easily, moving you this way and that. his hands deftly undo the buttons on the back of your wedding gown, pressing fevered kisses to your neck once the slope of skin is exposed to him.

"there is not a single woman in the world who compares to you" touya whispers, pushing you down onto the bed gently. his eyes meet yours in the dim lighting as he kneels before you. his hands undo the straps of your shoes, lightly massaging your foot, then your calf and then up to your knee. "in beauty, in grace. i have lived my entire life in your image, and i will continue to do so still. you have entranced me mind, body and soul"

he is reciting his vows to you, you realize somewhat dazedly, as he pushed the gown from your shivering frame. clad in only your undergarments, the air chills you. his teeth nip at a sensitive part of your throat, pulling a meek sound from your lips.

touya's hands hover above your body before slowly touching the bare skin of your legs. he kisses you once more, humming into it as his hands caress flesh. like he can't quite believe you're real. you've never been touched like this before, and your stomach curls when his hands skirt around your pelvis.

his hair tickles the skin just underneath your breasts. you look down when you feel his face pressing into your stomach. touya groans, loudly. "you're so soft" he whispers, nearly feverish with it. you don't know what to say to that, so you say nothing. his face presses further into your skin and he smells you, groaning again―like he's trying to push past the layer and live in your bones instead. even that level of closeness may not be close enough for him, you realize with slight horror.

"like vanilla" touya murmurs, hooking two of his scarred fingers over your underwear and slowly pulling them down your legs. touya's gunmetal blue eyes are focused onto your cunt, like a predator right before it strikes. blindly, touya brings the silken garment to his nose before he tucks your underwear into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"you can't―!" you protest in embarrassment, squeezing your legs together as shame fills you. you only realize entirely too late that this does nothing but expose more of your privates to him, and before you can try to shift your position, touya is pulling your legs apart once more.

touya dances his pointer down the length of your inner thigh, and then once more. he drags it down from your hooded clit to your entrance. "so pretty" he murmurs. the attention causes you to shiver and in return, touya finally looks up to face you. "are you a maiden?" he asks, as if he does not already know the answer.

"touya―" you reply, nearly whiny. his fingers continue to trace your outer lips, and them pushing them aside to drift between your folds.

"dabi" touya corrects sternly, but doesn't bother saying anything more on that subject, too engrossed in playing with you. "answer me."

you can feel yourself getting wet. it is the single most embarrassing thing in the world. you don't know if its his tone of voice, the way touya plays with you―somehow both nonchalant and obsessive about being in-between your legs. "y-yes. i'm untouched"

not truly. there was that time at the ball. but touya had used only his fingers, bringing you to completion quickly. you wonder if he can even remember it.

"do you touch yourself?" a shake of your head. touya presses more insistently, grazing them along your sensitive nub as he stares at your face for a reaction. "with words" a harder press and this time a tiny sound escapes you, hardly above a gasp and your cunt throbs, clenching around nothing.

"i haven't" you answer dutifully, voice shaky as another gasps escapes you. "please-"

touya laughs. it sounds cruel and condescending all at once. he brings those eyes back up to your face. "do you even know what your asking for?"

your thighs press together. you don't. touya knows you don't.

"i thought not" touya chuckles, spreading your legs once more. he drags you none too gently down the length of your bed, and settles his lower half against it. his fingers continue their gentle petting, mouth placing little kisses against your inner thighs that have you squeezing your eyes shut as more slick pools from your cunt.

"but that's alright, isn't it?" he asks, and you open your mouth to speak when you realize that he isn't talking to you. touya licks a broad stroke up your cunt, pulling a little squeal from your lips before drawing back to kiss your clit. "you just need your husband to figure everything out for you, don't you sweetheart?"

four.

"i could get in so much trouble for this" you say, as touya helps you cross over a path of stones. you hold your skirts up in your hands as he guides you along. "if my father finds out i've left, it could ruin my reputation"

"why do you need a reputation?" touya replies, looking at you with a perplexed expression―like he really can't understand the concept. it is entirely too endearing for your liking. touya is supposed to be a pest, he is a pest. but you like having him around all the time. "i'm going to be the one to marry you, why does any of that matter?"

you feel yourself flushing. he hasn't let that go, and you don't think he ever will. you are grateful that it is too dark out for touya to see you properly. you don't say anything else, refusing to give in. instead, you allow yourself to be led along, trying to puzzle out where exactly touya is taking you.

"oh wow" you breathe, as you reach your destination at last. the moon stretches over the forest floor, glittering against a lulling stream. the grasses tickle against your ankles, and you are surrounded by a sea of blue flowers. there are fireflies, and their lights illuminate the prince's face. "touya, where are we?" it's hard to believe such a place has existed so near to your kingdom.

"its not too far from the well where i met you" touya says, staring at you. your head whips to stare back at him. your eyes drift slowly away from touya, and back to the sea where you find yourself immersed in. the blue is not so far away from the color of touya's eyes, you realize. the thought does not bother you. "do you like them? the flowers? i do not think they are nearly as beautiful as you are, but they will have to do"

you flush again. you have been told that you are beautiful, hundreds of times. maybe even thousands. yet the way that touya says it is...it is not the same. "will have to do for what?" you ask, turning back around.

"i do love you" touya says, stepping close to kiss your cheek, then then corner of your mouth. you both meet in the middle to sweetly kiss. touya takes your hand in his, and you gasp into the kiss when you feel something cold slide onto your finger. your eyes fly down, wide as saucers as you stare down at the ring.

"touya―"

"it isn't silly and childish. i knew i would marry you the day i saw you crying at the well" he continues, watching your expression as you lift your hand to your face. "i am in love with you. i will never love anyone else. nothing compares to you. you have bewitched me ; mind, body and soul"

you can only stare at him.

but touya knows your silence is a good one. a soft smile dawns on his face as he stares at you. he brings your ring-adorned hand up to his mouth, and kisses every finger. his eyes do not stray from yours. when has touya turned into such a romantic?

"i've spent my entire life under the thumb of my father" touya murmurs. "i did not have anything to live for. but you. i want you more than anything in the world. we will be wed soon. you only need wait a little longer. can you do that for me?"

a shiver befalls you.

the scene breaks. the doors open, and you start from the pleasant memory. you turn towards the doors, gazing into the stern face of your father.

nervously, you reach below the neckline of your daygown and pull out the ring touya gave you, suspended by a silver chain. "my letters to touya, has there been any answer?" you inquire. the same as you do everyday when your father comes to visit you.

nearly a year of silence. you have never gone so long without any word from him. it scares you.

yet the air around you feels oppressive, heavy. you bring your attentions away from the ring around your neck to look at your father. his face is pinched, heavy. he does not have good news, you realize, and your heart drops to your stomach at the thought of it.

"father?" you ask, standing hurriedly. "what is the matter?"

your father only grimaces, and gestures for you to sit back down. you obey, gripping the material of the setee in a tight grip. "the prince is dead" you shake your head. a second time, and then a third as tears well up into your eyes. "a fire, in the east wing of the castle"

five.

you rub your lower skin softly, mind elsewhere. the cross stitch in your hands has long since been abandoned.

the wind blows, rustles your gowns as you sit alone in the gardens. touya has been gone for three days now―on business. he is soon to return. though you wish for his carriage to fall of a mountain anyway. it hadn't the last time, so you know it won't this time either. and he may not be with you physically, but you feel the hold he has on you all the same.

hard not to, when everyone has given you such a wide berth. they know that talking to you for too long, smiling in your direction. complimenting your hair ; any of it could incur his wrath. and those who angered the usurper king were all quickly disposed of. the news of your pregnancy has only seemed to worsen his possessive streak.

a shadow falls over you, blocking out your light. hands fall on your shoulder. you no longer have the strength to resist him.

"i've returned" touya says softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your cheek. his hand travels down your body, laying over your own, gently caressing your belly. "how have you fared, in my absence?"

"i am content" you reply, softly. obediently you tip your head back and allow him to kiss you for real. "happy" you say, and the lie tastes like ash in your mouth.

touya hums into the kiss. "and the babe?" he inquires, eyes landing on your slightly swollen belly.

"another story entirely" you tell him, and your husband laughs. the sound of it fills you with dread and you want to fling yourself from the highest tower. but you are a coward, above all―and so all you do is smile and let him lead you back into your chambers.

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

𖦹 AM I THE SAME GIRL? ⇆ atsumu miya

┆︎summary ┆︎you've taken up two new interests―geology and unearthing the truth behind atsumu's new cryptic behavior.

┆︎tags┆︎getting together, friends to lovers. reader is oblivious. atsumu is predictably, a loser in love.

┆︎wc┆︎3.7k

┆︎an┆︎it is the beginning of winter and for some reason i always think of summer. and also this 100% an excuse to research further about something that has always interested me. half of what i learned didn't even make it into the fic but just know i have about 3 hours worth of stuff lodged in my brain now.

okinawa is a long thirty-six hours from your home in hyogo. you've already vowed to visit once your curator job takes off―and you actually have enough money to stay there. but anyway. the reason you want to visit so badly is because of the hoshizuna no nama―or the star sand beach. where sand is typically made up of tiny rocks and particles, the sand is made of tiny star-shaped little particles.

you know this, and other odd things about rocks you've never heard of before, thanks to your monthly subscription to the petrology society journal. the part time job you've gotten at onigiri miya doesn't allow much for extra expenses, but the journal is one of the things you don't mind dipping into your budget for.

it's nothing something most people would expect from you (and certainly not something you thought you would enjoy so much) but you had caught the tail end of a documentary on the history of the earth while studying for yet another exam.

you're reading the latest issue now, or you're trying to. it's more like you're pretending to read it, as your eyes scan over the same paragraph seven times. in reality, you're way too interested in watching osamu and a few of his friends play a friendly (?) game of volleyball. and more specifically―watching atsumu play volleyball.

osamu had asked if you wanted to join, or maybe if you wanted to keep the score but you had declined. these were osamu's friends, and you felt more than a little out of your element just by being there. you attended the inarizaki high, same as osamu and his friends, but to say you were friends then was a generous statement.

at most, you and osamu partnered together often to work on projects or study. classroom friends. not the sort that hung out together outside of school hours. and when you started working part-time at onigiri miya, you assumed it would be the same. it isn't, and as a result, the two of you have struck up a tentative new friendship.

atsumu, osamu's twin, is an entirely different story. even in highschool, he was never someone you were able to understand. and nothing about him ever made any sense. even after all the time that has passed, that remains the same.

it's like he pays too much attention to you, but at the same time―none at all. you don't get it.

suit yourself atsumu had said, putting his hands on his hips as his eyes traced over you―watching keenly as you found a place to sit off to the side. you can just be my cheerleader instead.

your scowl had been instantaneous. feathers ruffled, you planted yourself down on your beach chair and forced yourself not to give atsumu the time of the day. a challenge, when he's possibly the hottest person you've ever seen. he carries himself differently than osamu, and you wonder if that's what makes you so drawn to him.

you aren't sure if you want to know the answer. what does that say about you, being attracted to boys with bad attitudes and piss colored hair?

"i don't hear any cheerin" atsumu drawls out, when he catches you staring for maybe the third time in a row. you scowl again, and cross one long leg over the other, body language clearly expressing your displeasure.

the star sand, in the end, isn't made up of anything mythical―not like you had been expecting. you know magic isn't real, but still your mind had conjured up the idea that the star sand was made of remnants from magical stars. sand, star shaped or not, are made up of decomposed organisms.

your eyes slide once more towards atsumu. for once, he isn't looking back at you. people, famous volleyball athletes or not, are made up of the same things.

--

today had been taxing in a way it hasn't been in a long time. you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, plastered with heat and sweat. class fared no better, and you forced yourself to trudge through the lessons―completely fumbling when a professor suddenly cold-called on you.

the one time you decide to give yourself a few extra hours of sleep instead of keeping up with the reading, you make a fool out of yourself in front of everyone. you're sure no one even remembers it, or gives it a second thought. but you wouldn't know how to stop being so mean to yourself, even if you wanted to.

your day hadn't gotten any better. you spilled a cup of iced coffee all over yourself, tripped and skinned your knee, had a disastrous shift at onigiri miya (to the point where osamu sent you home early)―and to top it all off, passed out the moment you arrived back at your apartment, instead of working on a paper that was due the next day.

never again will i take a summer class, you think to yourself, as you stand sleepily in line at the nearby convenience store.

"you seem tired" a voice says, next to you. and you turn blearily to face atsumu miya himself. "you're in grad school, right?"

it's totally and completely unfair that he gets to walk around looking that perfect. if there is a god, it's clear that he has favorites. and you are most certainly not one of them. atsumu, on the other hand, is.

"i'm regretting taking summer classes" you explain, tracing the floor pattern with the toe of your beat-up sneakers. you don't want to delve too deeply into your issues, and you're unsure if atsumu even cares to listen. "it's―challenging. at times"

"it might be a busy day, but try to make some time for yourself. any time spent settling your mind is time well spent. staring pensively into that cup of tea for a few moments can be equally beneficial" says atsumu, reading off of his phone, tone unusually wise. "calm your mind, and your heart, and make it an at-peace day"

it's night. your brow arches, thoroughly concerned.

"what?" is all you say, looking at him.

"it's pretty straightforward you know" atsumu pouts―pouts. this whole infatuation...thing, would be a lot easier if he weren't so pretty to stare at. "just, keep it in mind, okay?"

"...okay" you promise, because what else can you even say at this point.

a grin spreads across his face, surprisingly genuine. you don't even want to begin to unpack what that might mean, so you don't. you pay for your things, and part ways outside of the entrance of the store, going in opposite directions.

you get back to your apartment. and you make yourself a cup of tea, staring at it in the snoopy shaped mug.

it does help you feel a bit better.

--

your favorite shifts at onigiri miya are the morning ones. well, late morning and the beginning of the rush hour. you and osamu typically chat politely, where he asks about the different events happening in your life. neither of you seem to have many friends and you're all the more glad for the easy friendship you have with him.

this morning had been passed in comfortable silence, both of you in separate parts of the shop, working.

that is, until osamu sticks his head to the front of the shop and throughs a wrench in your entire life. "you know you could just talk to him"

"huh?" you say ineloquently, serving spoon held above the rice. it dawns on you pretty quickly, what osamu is saying and you don't have to look at him to know that he knows. still, you lie and reply with, "i have absolutely no clue what you're talking about"

"really? because 'tsumu's standing right there" your head snaps up. atsumu is not there. you turn to glare at osamu, who only laughs loudly at your expense. "god you're easy"

"i'm going to quit" you threaten, though both of you know that isn't the case. osamu only laughs louder. "i don't deserve this treatment"

the bell jingles overhead. "what treatment?" atsumu says, in the flesh this time―fresh from a jog. both you and his twin look surprised. speak of the devil, they say, and he shall appear. "osamu you better be treating your best employee with the utmost respect!"

"i don't even treat you with the utmost respect" osamu drawls, before heading into the back of the shop so he doesn't have to hear his twin's response.

atsumu, thoroughly annoyed, stalks to the front. he stares down at you through the separation glass and smiles. "good morning. doing better?"

"uhhh" you say, awkwardly, staring at him. or trying not to stare at him. he's wearing a tank top today and you can feel your brain shutting down. eventually, your brain reboots itself and you remember what it is he wanted to know. "yes―the tea helped. thanks for that"

"no problem" atsumu replies, and rattles off his usual weekend morning order. two spicy tuna and two yaki. he watches you make them with eerily focused eyes―like it's his first time ever seeing anyone make onigiri or something.

you make your way to the cash register, and atsumu follows. his eyes land on your latest issue of the petrology society journal. "you've been reading those a lot."

your eyes, naturally, also track to the magazine. you usually like to read to pass the time when there's no customers in sight. but being noticed, perceived, by atsumu of all people, makes you feel suddenly too-conscious. you try to remind yourself of the star sand, and how it's just like regular sand. atsumu is just another person. no need to get so worked up about it.

"every time i see you, your nose is usually in it" atsumu says―unaware of the effect it has on you. he points to the cover. "do you know what kind of rock that is?"

"basalt" you gurgle out, avoiding his stare.

atsumu's eyes light with understanding. "looks kinda like gravel to me" he lifts his gaze to you once more. "is that a rock? gravel?"

you pretend to think on it―like you haven't covered that topic on one of your earlier issues weeks ago.

"gravel's made up of a lot of other crushed rock" you explain, eyeing him. he's looks genuinely interested. "usually limestone, sandstone and basalt"

atsumu smirks, victorious, and snaps his fingers. "i knew it"

he did not 'know it'. you hand him onigiri with a small smile and a shake of your head anyway.

--

osamu, atsumu, their friends and a handful of new faces you don't quite recognize are playing volleyball in an indoor gym. once again, osamu has extended an invitation to you―but you learn that atsumu has asked that you be there as well.

this time, you bring along an ice cooler, stashed with water bottles. you don't really know what volleyball players eat to conserve energy and after classes sucking the joy from your body, you didn't feel too up to making anything. but they seem overjoyed at the snacks you've brought anyway.

what excites a bunch of grown adult men about mere trail mix and greek yogurt, you'll never understand. but if it means everyone likes it, then you're happy. you're chatting with a few siblings and close friends of the players and you're having so much fun you haven't bothered to pick up your magazine once. but its tucked into your crossbody bag, pressing up against your side as a gentle reminder of its presence.

watching them play volleyball is fun all on its own, too. atsumu and his brother play on the same team, playfully bickering with one another. and then atsumu's eyes search through the small gathering of people watching until they land on yours. he slaps the back of osamu's shoulder and jogs off the court before he can retaliate.

"give me your hands" atsumu says, instead of greeting you like a normal person.

you, predictably, do no such thing. instead, you shoot him a cautious look, cradling them to your chest. "i'm not doing that"

atsumu rolls his eyes. "just do it"

he holds his hands out, expectant. side-eying him, you comply. he takes hold of them―touch surprisingly gentle. his hands are warm, but aren't sweaty like you'd expect. he turns your palms over, and his eye's scan over them, studying them.

there's not much else for you to do, but join him. you look at your palms, trying to see what he see's. if he's seeing anything at all.

"you know, by looking at your hands, i'd say you would make a pretty good spiker" he says, and then, cryptically―"a twist in your plans will lead to unexpected joy. embrace the change"

"what are you, miya-san, you aren't making much sense at all" you say, trying not to give away how much you like it when he gently starts to trace over your palm lines with his thumb.

atsumu holds up one of your hands, comparing it to his own. "your palms and your fingers are proportional―see? signs of a good hitter they say"

that sounds like you made it up, you want to say, but don't.

"and the last part―it was your horoscope this morning" he says, continuing to make less and less sense. why does he know your horoscope in the first place? does he check it periodically, or is this a spur of the moment thing? the two of you are still holding hands. what does any of this mean?

i didn't know atsumu was into this kind of stuff, you think to yourself, as you stare at his hands in return. you suppose you aren't the only one with new, emerging interests.

"and what do your hands say?" you reply instead, hoping that he doesn't pull away.

atsumu snorts, and this time, places his in yours. "well i guess you can check. not that you know what you're looking for"

"well explain it to me then" you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning his palms over in your hands, like he had done with yours. you hear the hitch of breath that follows, before you see it.

"well my fingers are slightly longer and that means they're unproportioned to my palms" he explains, matter of factly. you stare more pointedly at his hands, so you don't have to look up into his face. "so you could say i would make a good middle blocker"

"but you're not" you say, frowning.

"i'm not" atsumu confirms, smirking at you―like it's a fond secret the two of you share. someone laughs in the background, surely not at the two of you, but he pulls away anyway, running a hand through his hair.

"is it really that hard for you to want to cheer for me?" he asks suddenly, staring at you.

confusion falls upon your face. every time it seems that you finally have a handle on the conversation, atsumu has to flip them so that you remain ever puzzled. "huh?"

"i always ask you to. cheer for me, i mean." he explains, uncharacteristically looking away. "but you never do. you cheer sometimes for osamu, or suna. oran especially."

you wish for the contact of his hands again. "i didn't think you were serious. i'm sorry"

it dawns on you then, that he has. nearly every time they play, in fact. he asks without fail. but you assumed it was a joke, or something.

"try it next time?" he asks, 100% serious, ignoring the way his team calls out for him. you have a feeling this isn't about the cheering anymore. but it's like you're missing several pieces of a particularly large and complex puzzle. in other words. you have no idea what it is that atsumu means behind his words.

"okay" you say, because what else is there to say?

atsumu beams, and jogs back onto the court.

--

osamu says he's going to head out to go pick up some supplies. he returns forty-minutes later with no supplies and with atsumu in tow, flanked on the other side by suna.

"hi atsumu, hi suna" you greet, waving, closing your magazine. "are you guys getting anything?"

suna and osamu look to be in much higher spirits than atsumu, who looks seconds away from puking. he doesn't. suna leans close to whisper in his ear, and atsumu glares at him fiercely―trying to turn around to leave the store. osamu doesn't let him, looking all too cheerful to push him towards you.

you decide you really don't want to know what shenanigans the three of them are up to.

"your usual, miya-san?" you ask again, putting on a pair of serving gloves.

atsumu spares another look at his brother, before shuffling forwards half-a-step. he rubs nervously at the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "there's a market. for crystals and stuff, about an hour from here in osaka. it's here for two weeks and i wanted to know if you wanted to go with me"

then, looking up at the ceiling of all things, continues. "it'll have other stuff too. like horoscopes and fortune telling."

you don't really need the extra information. you figured that sort of thing would be there. but horoscopes are kind of atsumu's thing. you're pleased he wants to share it with you―even if you find it a little cool as well.

"sure" you smile "sounds fun"

atsumu looks as though he could faint. or puke. or maybe do some combination of the two. but his color improves, and he gives you a small smile in return, shockingly bashful.

he peers down at you, shedding all of his strange behavior. "okay. great. tomorrow? i'll pick you up"

"tomorrow works for me, miya-san" you reply, good-naturedly.

atsumu turns and leaves onigiri miya without another word.

"you should dress nice" suna says, oddly, once he's completely gone. osamu's too busy typing madly on his phone to interject, so you look at him strangely. now he is starting not to make sense.

--

you do dress nicely. so much so, that atsumu compliments you on it at least four different times before you can even make it to the marketplace. i like your hair, it's cute. pretty, like your skirt. things like that. you don't know what to make of it.

"are you excited?" you ask, once the security guard hands the two of you wristbands.

atsumu clasps his on deftly, but signals for you to hold out your wrist once he notices you struggling. you try not to jerk in place every time his fingers graze your skin―but you aren't sure how successful you are at keeping a straight face.

"shouldn't i be asking you that?" he asks, raising his brows in confusion. he doesn't wait for you to answer, tugging you along by the hand in the direction of one of the booths.

"oh i recongize this one" you tell him, pointing down at a jagged stone. "its called chalcedony. i read about it a few days ago. it's a type of cryptocrystalline"

"a what?" atsumu asks, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stares down at the stone with a puzzled expression. it's cute on him, the casual bewilderment. he looks at it like he's trying to place where he's seen it before.

"a cryptocrystalline" you repeat, smiling at him. much easier to do when he isn't looking at you. "it means you can only tell that it has the structure of crystalline when its under a magnifying glass"

atsumu hums, pleased. "cool", he says, and browses the rest of the booth with you. once you're done with that one, poiting out all of the stones and rocks you've read about―atsumu pulls you along to the next one, eager to repeat the process. he's seems interested in what you have to say, asking questions to pick your brain for more information when he senses you might be holding out on him.

"i'm glad i heard about this" he brings up, as you walk away from a food stall―matching bowls of yakisoba in hand. "i read yesterday that opportunity only seizes those who are ready to take it and that i need to take the fearful leap"

you stop a stray noodle from landing on your crisp yellow cardigan, looking over at him. "what?"

atsumu's eyes are on yours. "my horoscope" he says, like it means something important.

"oh!" you exclaim, once realization hits you "i'm surprised you've gotten so into horoscopes and fortune telling"

a odd look crosses his face. "i'm not―you are"

"no i'm not" you tell him. "why would you think that?"

atsumu's face heats. "well, you're always reading about the rocks. the crystals and gemstones"

"i like petrology. not crystals and gems" you explain, unable to hide your smile. "it's about rocks in general. like their origins or what they're composed of"

you remember all of atsumu's cryptic words, odd, strange ways of speaking. the sage advice in the store that one time. they were horoscopes. before you can stop it, you burst out laughing. you try to muffle it into your arm, but the sound escapes anyway.

"that's what you were meaning with all those weird things you kept saying?" you ask, once you've managed to stop laughing. "i thought you were trying to―i don't know, warn me of my ominous and impending doom!"

"i wasn't" atsumu pouts, tossing his unfinished yakisoba into the trash. "i was trying to find something to start a conversation with you. i didn't know how else to tell you i liked you"

your amusement dries up and your throat closes up. your eyes look around, at everywhere else but him.

"...are you going to say anything?" atsumu asks, looking like the boy you remember from highschool.

"i―uh. i like you too" you stammer out, staring down at your shoes. it's shockingly easy to do. logically, you knew there was always a small, small chance that he would reciprocate your feelings, always in the most pleasant of dreams.

in them, atsumu would blush (much like he is now) and ask "are you sure?" much like his is now.

and in your dreams, you would throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. or confess your undying love and attraction to the most strangest boy you've ever known. but like the star sand, and so many other rocks you've learned about, reality does not end up like your wistful imagination.

"i'm sure" you nod, and gingerly reach for his hand. "do you want to keep looking around?"

atsumu beams. squeezes your hand in his own. it feels better than any of your dreams could have ever conjured up. "'course i do"

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

"life spring"

— gojo satoru

tags ට lite somno (consensual), praise kink, pussy job, riding, vanilla and full of so much love its gross, morning sex, lowkey sub satoru, established marriage, fix it fic of sorts

a/n ට i listened to hozier the entire time i wrote this. so thats how you guys know im serious about the vanilla sex.

───⠀౨ৎ this is the married life that gojo deserves and it's his and sometimes he can't believe its all real. (1.4k wc)

the room glows like pure gold, spun from the sun's waves.

its warm and it smells like home and satoru's eyes blink open slowly before shutting again. there are other colors too ; pretty cherry blossom pinks, hazy greens and blue the color of the sea. a gift from the first years — from nobara in particular. it's supposed to mimic stained glass.

satoru wants to cling to his dream for a moment longer. a boat, rocking gently at sea. you and your smile as you took turns pushing each other overboard. but the fuzzy feeling is lifting and faster by the second.

a bird cries and sings its morning song. satoru opens his eyes and grins.

the first thing he always sees when he wakes up is you. whether thats when your curled up under his chin like you want to burrow up under your skin. or if its like now—with your face inches away from his, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, grinding down on his cock.

satoru reaches out to pull you down, and breathes your name against your lips. not quite kissing, just breathing the same air. bucks up once and twice, smiling at your cheeky grin. like you aren't more undone than he is.

"'morning, satoru" you giggle, kissing him finally, sounding breathless.

his fingers find your waist, secretly delighting in your bareness. hums appreciatively as your weeping cunt rocks down against his cock—fully hard now. "its a very good morning"

he has no shame at all in admitting he loves this—loves when you take charge. when you go for what you want. you had spent so long being meek, trying to blend into the background. hoping to fade away. but you've come into your own, and satoru likes to think he's apart of that. how he gives you the stability, the comfort, to chase what you're after.

"did you cum yet?" satoru asks, fingers tracing shapes into your skin.

you shake your head, lip caught between your teeth. but you know to keep your eyes open—focused completely on him.

"that's my good girl" satoru says, proud. you let out a shaky whine, pace faltering. "my pretty wife, so wet for me"

your hands come down to frame his chest, nails pretty against his skin as your hips grind in tight little circles that have him groaning out. and then your hand grabs his dick—holding him right where you want him, oh god—grinding more firmly against your clit.

"that's what you needed baby? needed my dick, didn't you?" satoru asks, like you both don't already know the answer. pleasure zips up his spine as your movements grow faster, sloppier. the pressure's enough to keep him on the edge, enough to make him feel like he could cum, maybe—but doesn't. it's the best. his hand rubs your back, moves your hair out of your eyes. "i don't mind sweetheart, its your dick. my hot, perfect wife"

you sob, muscled thighs trembling as you chase your high. your nails dig into his chest and he knows your searching for it now—the perfect stroke that'll finally make you cum.

"my perfect sorcerer wife is so strong" satoru whispers, gently caressing your stomach. "so beautiful. i'm so lucky. you gonna cum soon aren't you, baby? gonna cum messy too?"

you nod, another broken sob falling from your lips, fractured uh-uh-huhhh, satoru. you change your angle, and suddenly the wet sounds of your pussy sliding against his cock fill the room.

"yeah," he says, nodding, a wistful sigh leaving his lips. "can you hear yourself baby, hear how fucking wet and sloppy you are?"

and that's what does it for you—slumping down into his neck with a wail, as you take his hand and lead it down to your cunt. he knows what you want immediately, rubbing you fast and hard as you cum.

"you did so good," he says, sticking his fingers into his mouth to suck off the taste. your hips shake and quiver with the intensity of your orgasm. you don't answer for a long minute, and he can feel the soft puffs of air against his skin.

"hi" you breathe, finally, smiling at him

"hi" he says back, like a dork. you snuggle in closer, fingers brushing up softly against his cheek. satoru smiles and briefly closes his eyes. he can feel the smile breaking out onto his face, impossible to stop. never did he think he could be here, and have this : softness, laughter and smiles. peace.

"mm, and what are you laughing at?" you ask, leaning up on one elbow.

satoru opens his eyes. grins cheekily. "you. i was thinking your head looked like a raisin"

your mouth opens and closes in disbelief. the hand that been so gently caressing his face moments ago pinches his cheek sharply. and then you get that familiar mischievous look in your eye.

"no wait—" he protests, far too late. you descend upon him, jabbing your fingers into his sides, and his stomach and the side of his neck—where he is most ticklish. satoru writhes on the bed, loud peals of laughter bursting from him as he tries every yielding term in the book.

"oh yeah not so funny now is it?" you goad, although the sound of his laughter drowns you out.

"okay, okay, okay—"

a loud thud, and satoru falls of the bed and crashes to the floor in a heap of too-long limbs.

"oh shit" you mutter, and he doesn't need six eyes to tell him that you're covering your mouth with your hand to hide your laughter. you lean over the edge of the bed, eyes crinkling in the corner. age has done well by you. "baby, are you okay?"

"i think i broke my back" satoru groans, and massages his lower back to nail the point in further. "i'm getting so old"

"oh please" you snort, rolling your eyes, "you're only 39"

"that means i already have one foot in the grave!"

you roll your eyes again, pulling him up on the bed. "yes, you old old man. practically dead already"

"its been a good run" satoru says dramatically, tossing his head back onto the pillow. "i'm going to die happy now. 10 long years married to the love of my life"

"mmm" you hum, noncommittally, reaching over to feel up on his cock. his back straightens and he gets hard again embarrassingly fast. "do you think you have enough life left to handle me riding you?"

satoru pretends to think about it, massaging your right tit, slightly smaller than the left—fitting so perfectly into his hand. "try not to squeeze my soul out of my body and we're good"

"good," you say, settling on top of him again "i want you in me"

"fuck—baby, you can't just—" satoru gasps, as you breach yourself with his cock in one hard thrust. all coherent thought tumbles from his mind, gone with the wind, when he feels your warm cunt flutter around him and then squeeze. "you're doing that on purpose"

"am i?" you ask cheekily, smirking, riding him hard and fast. your ass smacks down against his thighs loudly, and when he dares to look at the place where the two of you are connected—he sees the ring of white around the base and has to screw his eyes shut to stop himself from cumming. he groans, tossing his head back, arm shielding his face from view.

ten years, and he still has to fight from busting his load the minute you get your cunt around him. ten years and he still keens, still mumbles shaky gasps and praises into the air. hands squeezing delicately around your hips, occasionally going to cup your ass—to help you along.

not that you need it. you grind down, hand massaging and squeezing at his pecs, as your go in tight circles around his dick. then you rise back up, letting him slip all the way out before slamming back down again.

you lean down next to his ear, taking his lobe between your teeth and biting gently. "baby?"

"y-yeah?" satoru asks, voice high, thrusting up into your tight heat in short aborted pumps of his hips. "you need something from me?"

"mmm" you moan in affirmation and he can feel you smiling against his cheek. "i want you to cum in me now"

satoru's grip on your hips turns bruising. he holds you still and shoves his dick into you over and over again, loud in the silent room. so good he can't think, broken praises and curses spilling from his lips. he brings you down and slams up into you one last time before doing exactly what you ask of him.

"born under a bad sign"

— sukuna ryomen

tags ට yan sukuna, zombie apocalypse au, sukuna typical violence, slight gore (also typical), dubious consent, fingering, petting, dirty talk (are we even surprised), caretaker kink, minor infantilization, wildest backshots known to man, virgin reader

a/n ට baby's first ever fic <3 i've seen a lot of yan sukuna on my dash (1 & 2) and these ficlets/drabbles acted as my main source of inspiration. this wasn't at all how i imagined this to go, but i don't mind doing a second part at all. sukuna's probably occ but to me he's so sickingly sweet to you, and so violent to everyone else.

───⠀౨ৎ you puzzle around the reasons why sukuna would help you, of all people. why he didn't leave you to die. why he goes through the trouble. and then. and then he shows you. (3.6k wc)

the circumstances in which he stumbles upon you are purely accidental. sukuna swings down the hammer, relishes in the sick squelch of bone and sinew giving away and the feel of blood spattering back onto his face in wide arcs and the sight of you going very, very, still underneath him.

you had been so loud, before. screaming and whining and pleading for mercy. you're silent now. he wonders if you even dare to breathe. and that is how he finds it in himself to stop. to pull away. sukuna hasn't seen you yet, and he's curious to know what he's found.

slowly, with trembling, dainty little fingers, one of your hands reaches up to touch the dead mans shoulder. the tiniest of whimpers escapes you, hand spasming but managing enough of your strength to lift up and push the body away.

sukuna lets the hammer clatter noisily to the floor, smirk widening across his face at how you jump, shoulders raised and body tense with obvious fear. he crouches down, blood covered hand wrapping around your ankle and pulling you in to him with one sudden move. you allow yourself to look at his hands, his clothes spattered in blood, and nothing else.

you tremble, head hanging low. sukuna's tongue traces his sharp teeth, content no longer with silence.

"won't you look at me, sweetheart?" he croons, hand smearing blood from your cheek. you tremble and shake some more, ready to burst out of your skin at the juxtaposition of his touch.

but you lift your head. you obey. you must be fighting against every wired instinct right now. the ones that tell you to run. to hide. he doesn't bother hiding the shuddering low moan when he sees you.

"oh, look at you, gorgeous, prettiest little thing i've ever seen" he says, pulling in closer. the blood coating your face does little to hide your shining wide bambi eyes, your full lips, the gentle swoop of your nose. he reaches out behind him, patting around for something to clean your face. "good girl, stay still. just like that"

sukuna's big hand is like a brand against your skin. he cups your chin, turns your head to the side. you make a loud strangled whimper, no doubt having seen what was left of your attacker. sukuna tuts, pulls you back to him, pets at your shoulders and the back of your head until you calm down.

when he turns your head again, you keep your eyes shut.

"wh-what's your. your name?" you say, shakily, eyes darting across his face, pretty brown hands curling and uncurling with anxiety. its clear that you're just looking for something to distract you. it's endearing. you're endearing. sukuna wants to carve out a hole inside his chest and shove you in it.

"sukuna." he says simply, eyes catching on a reflecting light. his thumb trails from the side of your neck now, down to your chest. and the small golden pin pressed into your bloodstained shirt. whistles in surprise. "waseda?"

you nod slowly, reaching for your pin again. sukuna lets you get close enough to grab it and then at the last second, holds it above your head.

his presses the pin back into your palm, and pets at your hair. "bet you would've fetched a pretty penny before all of this huh? sweet little girl like you. what'd you study in waseda, pretty girl?"

"law" you mumble, mouth struggling to form around the word. he barks out a loud laugh at that, petting at your face like one would a nervous kitten. your hands curl into your lap. "do—are you in...are you in school sukuna?"

another loud laugh. he manages to sound mocking and sweet all at once and his voice stuffs your head with cotton. "no, sweet girl. not in school"

"oh." you swallow around nothing again, voice quiet. you don't want to know what he did, before. you aren't sure you'll be able to stomach the answer. silence stretches between the two of you once more, and you know he's waiting for something. "do you have any water?"

sukuna smirks, teeth glinting in the low light. doesn't say anything at all. your mind puzzles over your words, searching for an error. you frown, peering over at him question dancing on your tongue.

he says nothing still. and his hand encloses around yours, pulls it into his lap. he traces over your fingers and up to your wrist, up some more—to your forearm. his other hand reaches for the hammer, still bloody, still wet, as he stands to his feet and pulls you up with him.

you have no choice, but to follow him. you're weak, physically, emotionally, mentally—you never would have been able to survive on your own.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

you wrack your brain, searching for a reason.

before, your family had money. sukuna would have been compensated heavily for his time, for his odd stroke of generosity—no matter the violent steps taken in between. but your family is in america, and you are here, in japan. tears bead at your waterline and you're quick to brush them away but they won't stop falling. they fall faster than your hands can move and you curl into yourself.

sukuna raps his knuckles against the door loudly. waits a moment and then pushes both of you inside. its a bit nicer than what you would assume a man like sukuna—the type of bash a mans head in with you still underneath him—would enjoy. but then it breaches your mind in a moment of painstakingly clarity. you don't know him at all.

"are you going to kill me?" you ask through your tears, shuddering and shaking. maybe sukuna's the sick sort of man you've studied in your textbooks. the kind that like's to draw the violence out, so that it'll hurt more. there's a word for that kind of man.

it's been. it's been days, you think. a week, at most. together, you've encountered a dozen zombies. each time is the same. he pushes you behind him, kills them all quickly and the first time, you threw up. sukuna petted at your hair, crooning softly at you—tells you he'll take care of you. he'll make them go away.

"do you want me to kill you?" sukuna asks instead, smirking. he gestures for you to follow, beckoning you forwards with two fingers.

you shake your head, and then when you realize he can't exactly see, garble out a shaky, "no, b—but why would you help me if i can't. i can't give you anything"

a bathroom is where he's led you to. sukuna drags a small stool over using his foot, plants himself down on it. your mouth parts in surprise when the water turns on, sloshing loudly against the tub.

sukuna hums, tugs you forward—dragging you into his lap. he doesn't answer you, not yet, hands reaching up to tug your shoes off, then your socks. massages his bloodstained hands into your calves, skirting up to your knobby knees and higher still to unbutton your long skirt.

you make a small sound of objection, pushing your legs closed as your breath quickens. "sukuna? what are you, stop please?"

the hand that had been bracing you in his lap reaches down to push your legs apart, easily too easily, and when you try to squirm the hand unbuttoning your skirt hooks around your waist. pulls you back in. one swat against your thigh, underneath the fabric pooling around your waist has you stilling against him.

"just gettin' you clean, pretty girl" he says, petting your sides and your stomach. "gotta take a bath"

"s-sukuna" you hate the way your voice tapers off into a whimper, pushing at his arm again. "i can. i can bathe myself"

there's a snorting sound in your ear, rumbling deep from his chest. one of his hands reaches into your skirt, cups your ass, massages you through your plain cotton panties. and his other hand dances up to your hip, reaches up to hook thick fingers around the bands of your skirt and panties—tugging them down to your knees and then dropping them on the floor.

he makes another amused sound when your hands jump to cover your exposed mound. "you can't do anything by yourself. not if i don't help you"

your mouth pulls into a frown, anger swirling inside you. he says it like he knows you. like its the absolute truth. "that's not true. i can"

sukuna ignores you. like you're a child. reaches up under your shirt to unhook your bra, massaging your small breasts. then again at your spine. pulls your blazer off, then takes special care in buttoning each and every button on your shirt. reaches a hand over to turn the water off, to sprinkle in salts. he's methodical, sure in his movements.

the room fills with the smell of flowers, of almonds and honey. your naked, shivering in his lap from the cold and from the fear strumming along your nerves.

he could break you, but he handles you so gently. you find that your body is as taught as a wire. you wonder how long it'll take for that gentleness to go away. for him to hurt you. to kill you, even though he hasn't said he will.

"isn't that better?" he asks, kneeling beside the tub, washcloth running over your skin. the dirt and sweat and grime washes away from your skin, water turning a murky brown. "i know what you need, sweetheart. i'll take care of you. soft little thing like you, bet you spend your entire life being taken care of."

and then—and then he pulls away. you go to wrap your arms around your middle, thankful that it's over. that that's all he wanted. that your still alive.

your stomach lurches for an entire different reason when you hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper, loud in the quiet room. you hang your head, breathe loudly through your nose and wait. a handful of minutes pass by and then sukuna's hands grab at your waist, lifting you up enough for him to join you.

you turn around, facing his chest. a part of you is surprised that he let you. its becoming apparent to you now that you're going to be doing a lot less of what you want, now. the other part, bigger, pressing, is upset. angry. shameful. why are you giving up so easily? why aren't you fighting back?

the answer hurts more than you'd like to admit. you've never fought back. always gave up so easily. you do what your parents want, act how they think you should. make friends with the people your advisors approve of. sukuna had been so shamefully close to the truth—without anyone calling the shots for you, you're afraid of how little you know yourself.

"i can help" you say softly, grabbing the small washcloth from his hands. really, in all honestly, you just want this to be over faster. don't want him to draw it out anymore. "i can do some things"

sukuna hums, hand reaching out to play with your hair.

he's got a lot of tattoos. and he's big, with huge muscles, hard planes that seem to stretch on for miles. there's nicks, tiny scrapes and cuts and littering of scars everywhere.

"you can do some things," agrees sukuna, once you've finished and the water drains from the tub. he's naked still, and now there water isn't there to hide anything. but he's so large, everywhere, the scent of him filling up your head. "would you like to do something for me, sweet girl?"

you have an inkling of what he wants, and your twist your hands in your lap. you have no choice, even if he phrases it like you do. he could toss you back out there, with the dead roaming the streets, bloodshot and thirsty and eager. so you nod, and climb into his lap, tucking your face into his neck—legs spreading out on either side of his hips when he pushes a hand onto your lower back.

"if you'll be good, i can be good." sukuna says, tracing the knobs on your spine.

you swallow, afraid to ask, but knowing that you must. "you wwon't—you won't let. others?"

"smart girl. good girl, it'll be just me. no other man could take care of you like i could." sukuna's fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, spreads your legs apart to look down at your cunt. you've got ugly hips, like a boy. and you don't shave, and you hope the sparse layer of hair isn't enough to turn him off. you want him to like what he sees. so he. so he can take care of you. your stomach clenches painfully when he presses the flat of his palm on your hipbone.

"you got a boyfriend, pretty girl?"

you shake your head, still tucked into his neck as he continues his caressing and petting. his fingers inch closer to your cunt, rubbing at the outer lips.

sukuna smirks. you can feel it rather than see it. "of course you don't, good girl like you. probably focused on your studies. my little lawyer girl. fuck, sweetheart, you've got such a pretty little cunt. you touch yourself? use your words"

"y-yes—sometimes" you reply, hips jerking as his fingers pet around your clit. you can hear yourself breathing heavier now, and its so shameful, you're dirty—nasty. your parents would be so ashamed of you.

he presses a kiss to the top of your head. it's so so gentle, you think you could cry. "with your fingers, sweet girl?"

you nod against his skin again, but remember that he wants you to talk. to use words. you swallow around a soft sound, trying to close your legs. "yes. but—b-but not my fingers...i tried, and it didn't—it didn't feel, it was okay but..."

god. you hate the way your voice cracks and breaks. how you fumble and trip over words. he must think you stupid now, inept, and your scared you're turning him off, that he might go soft. you clamp your mouth shut, screwing your eyes closed with a tapering whimper as he continues to pet around your pussy.

you're getting wetter, slicking up nicely. sukuna drags your slick to your hole, pets around it. returns back to your clit and rubs faster—at an intensity you would've shied away from if it was just you. a sound escapes you, and you're desperate to choke it down, hips bucking up into his touch.

sukuna swats at your ass, not hard enough to hurt. but a warning. the next sound you make, you don't bother trying to cover it up. his fingers flick at your clit in reward, and then his middle finger begins to press inside.

"there we go, good girl, relax for me, fuck, you're so tight" he sounds like he's putting his cock in your...in your cunt. and not, not his fingers. you whimper, nails pricking into his skin when his thumb returns to your clit. he pulls out, presses back in, other hand guiding your hips down into a slow rhythm. "that feel good?"

"yyeah" you sigh, making another high noise when a second finger presses in next to the first. he's speeding up now, and the sound of slick spurting out of your cunt, his fingers slamming up into your hole, stretching you out and its so—its so dirty but he isn't stopping, and had your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders. he's reminded of a cat sticking its nails into its owner, and thats you, you're his little kitten, gushing slick all over his hands, making little uhuhuh noises, endless whimpers and gasps of his name. "su-su'kuna, 'kuna! ohhh, uh, uh—'kuna"

sukuna throws his head back, cock so hard its throbbing. like he could cum. like he could cum and all he's got is two fingers inside your weeping cunny. if you sound like this now, if you're arching like this now, hips bucking up and legs kicking like this now—

"fuck baby, thereee you go" he goads, thumb reaching up to massage at your clit. the coil in your lower belly tightens up, faster and faster and sweat burns down your neck and you can tell you're about to come and you try to—you try to get the words out, hand that was previously clawing at his skin reaching down to try and push his hand away. but sukuna's stronger than you, not stopping, grunting out in your ear "can't wait to get inside this cunt. gonna fuck her so good, gonna give my sweet girl what she needs, shit, baby, listen to you, sound so pretty—you're such a good girl. gonna cream around me so good. go ahead and cum pretty, let go, i'll take care of it"

that feeling draws up, tighter and tighter and to fight back a scream, you bite down on his neck, panting wetly against his skin. your legs kick out, squirming wildly in his lap and your orgasms crashes into you like a freight train.

sukuna—he. he keeps his promise. takes care of it, talks you through it, fingers still pumping inside and stretching you out. presses sweet kisses to the side of your face, doesn't even seem to feel your teeth digging in, free hand running up and down your spine. laughs, whenever you seem to come back to it.

his hand reaches up, pats your ass softly. "on your stomach baby, good girl"

it would have been harder, you think, if you hadn't already cum. but you're pliant, going easily to your stomach. you can feel his hands, hot like firey brands, pulling you up to your knees, gripping tightly onto your hips. he cants his cock up against your pussy, swipes it through your slick before reaching down to guide it inside.

your mouth parts on a loud moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head. he's so much bigger than his fingers, wide and girthy—filling you up so well. he pulls out, pushes in a little more, repeats the process until his balls push up against your ass with a soft smack that has you both groaning out.

his hands fall back to your hips, pulling all the way out before slamming back in. you let out a loud yelp, almost pained, sensitive from just cumming and he's thrusting into you with short, hard jerks of his hips, cock hitting your sweet spot so well, breaths coming out of you in aborted little gasps. you fall forwards into the pillows, moaning louder now and sukuna doesn't slow down—but he speeds up, goes harder, grunting softly underneath your whiny and wet noises.

"ffffuck, fuck, baby, yeah. good fucking girl. knew this'd be the tightest little cunt. squeezin me so tight, pretty girl" pours the dirty words from his mouth as his balls smack loudly against your ass. your cunt squelches, so wet from your orgasm and getting wetter still. your hands fly to his arms, whining, pushing blindly at him. its too much, too fast—you can't take it, and you whine again, hands clawing at the sheets trying to—"no, no, fuck. don't run from it baby. c'mon you can take it, i know my good girl can take it"

you can't speak, so you shake your head wildly, jerking forwards hard enough that his cock slips out and that makes you moan like... like a whore, turning on your side to catch your breath. but its only for a second, before sukuna's back, guiding you onto your front with a soft cooing noise—slipping back inside.

its a different angle now, with his arm around your waist, keeping your ass nice and pert against his cock as he drills into your weepy cunt. dirty talk spews from his mouth, telling you to take it, telling you how good you are, how tight your cunny is clamping around his cock. calls you a whore, a slut, and you whine loudly at that, hands spasming in the sheets as you shake your head wildly.

"i-i'm not," you protest, pushing your ass back, "not a slut, 'kuna, not—i'm not, please, pleasepleasepleaseples—"

sukuna laughs, sounding dark and sarcastic. "no, baby, i'm sorry—fuck, you're not a slut, just fffuck, you're just so good for me aren't you? sweet girl, taking it so well, pussy's so good baby, i'll keep you forever. keep you right here on my cock, mm. wanted to be gentle for my sweet girl, i'll treat her right next time—"

his thrusts send you up the bed, headboard knocking against the wall, and you can feel his face shove into the sheets next to your head as he speeds up. he's close to cumming, he tells you as his fingers intertwine with yours. he squeezes your hand tight, grunting lowly in your ear before pulling out so fast your body crumples to the bed like dead weight. he jerks his cock quickly, spurting cum over your ass and lower thighs.

you cough, swallow around your slightly hoarse throat. "they...su-'kuna, what if they...heard? and they come?"

sukuna's hands caresses your flank, every inch of bare skin he can reach. "didn't i tell you i'd take care of it sweetheart?"

you think you manage to nod, fighting against your eyes slipping shut. and you think, you think sukuna laughs again, promises again that he's not letting you go. and your heart clenches when you realize what it had been, the reason he had helped you in the first place.

and it makes you feel gross, makes you feel used. like a whore. and you fall into sleep. and the last thought on your mind is, he'll take care of it.