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milky-aeons · 2 months

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'𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding �� your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

✎ . . . requested by the lovely @cocodrilofeliz!

WRITING REQUESTS

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radiance1 · 9 months

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There was a dragon in space. A brilliant, glowing white eastern dragon that looked like a star moving within space.

It seemingly wasn't doing anything, just floating throughout space with seemingly, no destination in mind. Sometimes it flies around earth, looking but never flying down onto the planet, sometimes it lands on the moon, taking a nap or just playing around by itself.

There were other times it flew through the asteroid belt hiding the Watchtower, yet it hasn't found it yet.

Yet.

The dragon didn't seem like a threat, just playing around within space, minding its own business. Batman monitors it regardless, however.

They didn't know where it came from, what its powers were, why it was here or if its intentions of playing were bound to change into something of hostility. He made eventual plans for it, if it were to turn violent one day, though he leaved it to its own devices for the most part.

His plans were to be used for the What-ifs, not willy nilly.

There came a time when the Justice League were having a debrief in the Watchtower, as they usually do. When the satellites discreetly monitoring it picked up on something.

Another dragon.

One that resembled a western dragon more with black and purple scales.

The first dragon they were monitoring seemed to be off put by the other one, uncharacteristically hostile. Meanwhile the other dragon seemed to be smug, arrogant, seemingly about to on some kind of speech before realizing it couldn't talk in space.

They fought, and they got a view of the dragon's abilities for the first time. Ice, energy blasts, shields, and a wail so powerful it could even be heard clearly throughout space.

the other dragon was no slouch, either, though seemingly less abilities than the other. Fire, speed and strength, which was a given considering their species. It tanked multiple of the other dragon's attacks, though seemed desperate, wary, and even scared of its wail.

They both injured each other, quite severely too. The second dragon seemed to have gotten the upper hand, and got cocky because of that, and so, failed to avoid a wail that blasted it back, followed by two more.

It got hit by the second and barely dodged the third. Then had to retreat due to its injuries.

The first dragon wasn't that well off either, various cuts around its body and green blood leaking out into space. It sluggishly flew to the moon, landed, and then stopped moving entirely.

They decided to try and help it.

-----

Danny was the recently crowned prince of the Ghost Zone, though its king, Pariah Dark, was still in his coffin.

He got a new ability, which was sweet! He could turn into an eastern dragon, which was extremely nice, though a bit annoying having to get used to whenever he woke up and realized most of his body was off his bed because he shifted into a dragon overnight.

What was less cool was how many responsibilities as prince he had to go through, etiquette training, learning history, attending the apparent 'high society' of the ghost zone parties, deciding who gets what fair and square and making sure there was nothing going severely wrong in the Zone.

Something the King was supposed to be doing, but you know, can't when he's sleeping and all.

And how could he forget? The marriage proposals.

He goddamn hated them. So much so that he had to publicly demand to stop sending him them be he's never going to court and marry anyone.

All was good, for a while. But of course, everything couldn't go so smoothly for him. The Observants foresaw a future where he apparently went 'mad with power being the sole royalty' and thought him to be the next coming of Pariah Dark, and then forcibly stated that anyone who can beat him in combat is someone who will marry him, no courting involved and no matter how Danny feels about the ghost.

Danny Obviously didn't like that, not at all. But it was fine, for the most part, because there was no ghost capable of besting him in combat. Well, there were some, but they just simply weren't interested in becoming king or in Vlad's case, marrying him

Prince Aragon

The guy kept trying and trying, no matter how many times he defeated him. Claiming that because he has the ability to turn into a dragon, he simply has to marry him, that he deserved to have Danny as his bride.

Danny still batted him away, making jokes and mocking him for it, even. Though he had a sneaking suspicion that Aragon wanted to marry him to regain his nobility, but that wouldn't happen.

He then disappeared out of nowhere, off the face of the Ghost Zone too. Danny was glad for it, no skin off his back if someone that annoying disappeared, so he went on life as normal, hanging out with his friends, managing ghostly responsibilities, and spending more time with his family.

Even his grades got better! Now that ghost attacks happened less.

Then Aragon reappeared one day, declaring another fight for his hand in marriage. Danny thought it would be easy as all the other times. But something was different with Aragon, he was stronger, faster, more durable.

And it scared him. Scared him how very close the fallen prince was to defeating him in combat, how close he was to losing and having to marry Aragon, how close he was to having to have someone like that as his spouse for what may very well be eternity.

He had a nightmare, that night. One where he lost and was forcibly married to Aragon.

So he ran. He told his friends and family why he was running, and didn't care to tell anyone else why he was running, he just had to get away before his nightmare became a reality.

He went through a lot of dimensions, realms, whatever. Not staying for long, constantly looking over his shoulder just in case Aragon was right behind him, following him.

He ended up in space, near earth and he, tired of all the running and just wanting to stay somewhere for once, stayed. Floating around space.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #ghost prince danny #Danny gains the ability to turn into an eastern dragon #and then rejected all marriage proposals #Only for the #Observants to go no lol and forced marriage by combat on him #Then #prince aragon #went #ooolala #and decided he wanted that to regain his power after having been dethroned by his sister #And also because it's obvious that only a dragon is allowed to marry another dragon #or something

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hiraya-rawr · 1 year

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maybe we can be more than this (servant/master)

characters !! diluc, ayato

contains !! just dialogues of gn reader. angst/comfort?? i think

synopsis !! thinking about servant and master where it's so obvious you're both in love but you can't bring yourself to cross the line and it hurts him sm—

+ + +

D I L U C

He's frustrated, pacing around as you desperately try to explain.

"Master Diluc, you must understand why–"

"Just Diluc."

"But Master Diluc–"

"How many times must I tell you, (Name)?" He turns towards you, a scowl on his lips as his voice rises. He breathes heavily before his shoulders lower, relaxing, and his face changes to that of hurt.

A quiet heartache.

"How many times must I hear you call me that? We've been friends for so long. I've loved you for so long. Can't I be more than just that to you. . .?" He looks down on the ground, unable to meet your gaze.

You feel your lips part, heart aching. How could you dare?

". . . Diluc," You whisper and his eyes snap towards you, hopeful, as your hand makes its way to cup his cheek, "You are already more than just that to me."

"Then allow me to be with you." He begs quietly.

"You know why I can't." You sob, feeling his own warm hands cupping your cheeks.

"Please, (Name)."

"Don't."

"Please,"

". . . I have to go help Adelinde turn off the gas lamps. Please get some rest, Master Diluc."

+ + +

A Y A T O

"Look at this, (Name)," He states harshly, stomping into his office as you trail behind, helplessly explaining, "Look."

Ayato roughly gestures to the pile of papers on his desk. Each in beautiful stationery, stamped cleanly.

"Marriage proposals. Each and everyone of them, I've rejected. I did this for us." He turns to you, a look of hurt in his eyes.

"Lord Kamisato, you know why–"

"You didn't use to call me that. I was Ayato. I was-"

"-That was when the Kamisato household was falling apart! It's different now and you know that-!" You cut in.

"It is different! Now the Kamisato household has the power and influence. If you marry me, I will take down every obstacle in our way."

Silence. He stares at you from across the dark office, only moonlight filtering in to highlight his baby blue hair. You know he's desperate, having danced around the topic for ages, but how could you be the clan's weakness? You can see how everyone would talk— how history would talk about it.

'Such a fine bachelor yet he chose a mere servant. Is there something wrong with the clan?'

'He was seduced. Held down by a childhood friend. You can't even trust a servant.'

'The clan had only recently gained its influence, yet it's falling apart again, all because of some—'

"Ayato," You try to hold back tears. You know it's unfair to him if you use this card. "If you love me, then please— don't make me do this to the clan. Don't make me do this to you."

He looks defeated. Shoulders slumped, tired, as he brings up a hand to rest on his forehead. Looking away from you, he sighs, "Had I known it would be like this, I never would have taken you in as my servant."

character m.list || ko-fi

note !! nothing hits differently than men with everything except the love of their life *shrugs* anyway my links have been weird lately idk why so hopefully this story posts without issues

#genshin #favoniuslibrary #diluc x reader #ayato x reader #diluc #ayato #genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #kamisato ayato #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin fic #diluc angst #ayato angst #genshin fanfic

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saintobio · 7 months

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sincerely yours. (8)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, mentions of cheating, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationship, explicit smut

series masterlist -> episode nine

9:21 AM.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of your index finger drumming a slow and steady cadence against the table was nearly in perfect synchronization to the tick tock of the clock above the wall behind you. An icy, uninviting atmosphere was the best way to describe the current situation inside the conference room at this time of the morning, with the gelid detachment between the boss and her employees as you built a wall—an impenetrable wall—around yourself to keep the inner turmoil you had in your head.

So, you listened. You succumbed to silence as a result.

“I’d like to present this new idea that we, along with the ecommerce team, have come up with to increase engagement on our website.” Even as the marketing manager started to speak, you remained frigid. “We did go through some feedback that people have been posting online and they’re mostly saying that the current web theme is too plain and that they’re hoping to see a more engaging website, so we would love to propose some ideas that could improve Hearte’s overall online presence. We know that keeping the brand’s look consistent is very important, especially now that Hearte is still establishing its own name in the fashion industry, and we have currently done a phenomenal job with our brand style. However, as the online website is our visual storefront, not only is its functionality critical, but we also have to ensure that the web design is in line with our aesthetics.”

9:26 AM.

You leaned back on your chair with your arms crossed, looking up to speak to the manager from across the conference room. “Let’s keep the unnecessary introduction short and just go straight to the point,” you strictly announced, receiving curious eyes in return as it was their first time seeing you becoming all stern and unamused. Such an odd sight to see from a boss who used to have the brightest of sunshines reflecting on her smile. “What’s the proposal?”

The marketing manager cleared her throat and moved her presentation onto the next slide. “Yes, Ms. Y/N. So… uh, based on the data that you can see on the screen, our online sales increased by 15% for the past two weeks, but we still have about 10% of shoppers abandoning their shopping carts. Earlier this week, we set up email campaigns and social reminders to decrease our abandonment rate and urge shoppers to return to their carts. While working with the IT team, we did some A/B testing to determine which version would drive our business metrics. We’ve also reached out to The Society Management and added Kendall Jenner to our PR list so that possibly, in the future, we can get her as a model for our landing page and attract the western market,” she continuously explained in a manner to convince you of how much effort their department was doing to increase Hearte’s sales, “But what we believe could bring a tremendous improvement on our website engagement is by introducing style guides. This will capture the interest of the audience now that they can mix and match some outfits based on their own style, and—”

9:32 AM.

Sigh.

“Ms. Ono, I have to be honest, but I expected more from you,” you cut her off by leaving a frank comment on her presentation, “Fashion brands have been doing style guides for years. You make it sound like it’s unique, but it’s nothing new. How sure are we that it will actually bring a dramatic improvement on our website engagement? I doubt most of them would even browse through it.”

“Well, uh…” The marketing manager faltered, glancing at the head of the social media team for some help, which she didn’t end up receiving. “I think it’ll work the way we want it to as long as we introduce engaging copies that make buyers fall in love with the designs.”

“You think?” You criticized her word of choice. “Ms. Ono, I gave you enough time to brainstorm with your team, so the moment you step inside of this conference room, you should have prepared whatever strategy you had in mind. I don’t settle for ambitious words like ‘I think’ or ‘I believe’. I want to hear a proposal that’s original, unique, and captivating. I want you to be a hundred percent sure that you know what you’re doing before you waste everyone’s time like this. Do you understand? Am I being clear? I want a proposal that would definitely get us somewhere and not just by assuming we will.”

Were you being too harsh? They said that the fashion industry in itself was harsh, so what was so surprising about seeing you being strict, candid, and business-like? This was the nature of your job. This was normal.

9:47 AM.

Very timidly did Nobara raise her hand beside you to chime in on the discussion. “I know I’m not in the position to make suggestions, but…” She pressed something on her laptop before carefully sliding it to your side of the table, showing you what appears to be a classic early 2000s ‘dress-up game’ with a base model and a selection of outfits that were inspired by your designs. “I just wanted to show you this, Ms. Y/N. I do agree with Ms. Ono’s idea to introduce style guides, but maybe we can do it in an interactive way. I know the dress-up game idea may look childish and unsophisticated, but I was kinda hoping that we can just make certain adjustments so that it could match Hearte’s classy and simplistic style. We can have base models in different body types and skin tones to show our brand’s diversity, then we can have shoppers try dressing them up using the outfits on our current collection. That allows them to easily visualize how the pieces would look on a certain skin tone and body type.”

The way everyone else in that conference table looked at Nobara was very obvious that they were expecting you to reprimand her for even having the guts to offer such a farcical idea. What does she know? They were probably thinking that. You’re just an intern. You knew they were saying that in their minds. On the other hand, you surprisingly liked her proposal and enjoyed the unique idea of introducing it to the website because her proposal actually did make sense. People would be curious, people would try it out by interacting with the website, and that means the engagement would rise up.

“I like that idea. We can go with that,” you said, sliding the laptop back to her while nodding at the marketing and social media managers, “I need the team to discuss Nobara’s idea further and polish it thoroughly before we can start adding it onto the website. Make adjustments as needed and ensure that everything is still in line with our brand. If you notice any flaws with this proposal, you can flag them with me and I’ll review them.”

9:54 AM.

Just as you were about to wrap up the meeting, a certain someone entered the conference room in haste—panting out of breath with her long, wavy hair and creased red pants. “I’m so sorry, I’m late.”

Her casualness made you clench your jaws tightly, fueling the fire to your already terrible day. You could no longer stop yourself from unleashing your rage as you looked up at her with a critical squint. “Ms. Hirai, what time’s it?”

“It’s ten, I know. I’m so sorry,” she repeated her apologies and paid an apologetic bow to everyone in the meeting room, “I’m sorry, everyone. I was caught up in heavy traffic today.”

You let out a silent scoff and ignored her compunctious act. “How long are we gonna keep using that excuse, really?” you questioned her, earning the intrigued eyes of your employees who were all sensing the sudden tension between you and your best friend, “As the fashion merchandiser and my second-in-command, you should’ve been here in this meeting with me, but where were you? You anticipated that there would be heavy traffic, yet you couldn’t be responsible enough in coming to work early knowing that we have a meeting? Or was it because you’re too busy doing other things so you’re no longer interested in showing up to work on time?”

Akemi shook her head, contritely. “It’s… It’s not like that.”

“Not like what?” Your icy stare bored into her. No trace of compassion was present in your eyes. “I’m sure you’re living a very blissful life outside of work and I’m glad you are, but is that also why you don’t bother with anything else anymore?”

“Y/N—”

“Miss Y/N,” you corrected, “I’m your boss, so treat me like one.”

Wide, chocolate brown eyes greeted you in response. It was clear that she was at a loss of words and could only repeat her meaningless apologies a thousand times. “I’m really sorry, Ms. Y/N. It won’t happen again.”

“You didn’t even let me know that you’ll be coming in late,” you continued and ignored the pitiful expression on her face, focusing on her swollen red lips and her dewy, rosy cheeks. She must have had a really good morning to look like a cherry blossom on a spring day. Was she so preoccupied being all lovey dovey with your ex-husband this morning? Did she sleep comfortably on the same marital bed you used to share with him? Your jaw tensed visibly. “You’re just coming in whenever you want. You don’t respect people’s time. You don’t respect my rules. You don’t respect me.”

Yes, you were overreacting by taking things too personally and it was the reason why you got up from your seat and bolted out of the conference room upon realizing your unusual outburst. You could hear the clicking sound of your stiletto echoing across the corridor as you stomped towards your office, swinging the glass door open and heading straight towards the ceiling-to-floor window to have some peace of mind. Peace? How ridiculous. How could you find peace? You couldn’t even grasp the fact that your best friend was acting like everything was normal. You couldn’t understand why she was rubbing her relationship to your face as if she wasn’t just a placeholder to somebody’s ex wife.

“Y/N?” Akemi’s voice cut you out of your toxic trail of thoughts—your mouth thinning with displeasure while you didn’t bother turning around to meet her gaze. Breathe. You had to breathe and think rationally. “I…I understand you’re really angry right now, but I was hoping we can have this much needed talk.”

You could feel her reaching for your hand at the height of your frustration and your defensive instinct led you to angrily swing your arm away, accidentally hitting her cheek as you pivoted on your heel to face her. It took two seconds for your eyes to shift from glaring in frustration to widening in surprise after seeing the small cut your diamond ring left on her cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, no, it’s fine,” she insisted with her palm pressed onto the right side of her face. “I deserved it.”

Good lord. What was happening to you? Despite having all these unspoken rage and unresolved conflicts between the two of you, you would still drop everything and be concerned for her. You would still let your walls collapse. You were the villain that couldn’t stick to being a villain. Why? Why did you feel this way? Was it because you knew she wasn’t technically doing anything wrong? Or was it because you were just projecting your personal frustrations onto her? Was betrayal really the issue here? Or was it the huge possibility that she could in fact be Gojou’s one true love? You had thought of this before, but the same questions in your head never stopped. And never did they stop from invading your headspace as you made your way towards the small fridge to grab an ice pack that you soon offered to Akemi, leading her to one of the couches while finally coming into your senses.

Yet there was silence and nothing but awkward silence when you two sat at a safe distance from each other.

“I’m shameless.” She was the first one to break the uncomfortable atmosphere. “I know you’re thinking that and I do agree with you. I really am shameless to even look you in the eye right now.”

You sighed and looked away, only to keep yourself from the furnace of pain that you had been bottling inside. “Stop. You’re making me seem like a villain right now. I’m tired of seeing myself this way.”

She closed her legs and sat humbly, reaching forward to squeeze your hand. “You’re not. You’re not a villain and you never were,” said the same woman you accidentally smacked a few minutes ago, “I understand why you would feel a certain way towards me. I’d even understand if you hate me so much that you wanna murder me. I’m your best friend and I know about your history with Satoru, yet here I am seeing your ex-husband behind your back. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t plan it. I truly didn’t. Even though you’re not together anymore and I’m technically not homewrecking anyone, I’m still putting us—you and I—in a really awkward position. You didn’t deserve any of that and I’m very sorry.”

At least, she was self-aware. But looking at the brighter side of things, you were getting calmer now that you were hearing her side of the story, though that didn’t stop you from feeling any less horrible. “I don’t really care who you date,” you claimed, adamantly, “And I most definitely do not care who Satoru chooses to date. We’ve been divorced for three years.”

“It’s still not right that I’m seeing him.” She let her guilt speak up for her.

And you let your resentment speak for you. “Then, why him of all people?”

“It’s…”

“Complicated?”

“Y-Yeah…”

You decided to keep a straight face. “How did this happen?”

Akemi looked as if you had just forced her to be on the hot seat because of the apathy on your visage. “It was a drunken mistake at first and we kinda just…”

“I’m not asking about when you two started fucking,” you replied, bluntly. Something you had never done before in your usual sophisticated vocabulary. “I’m asking when you realized you have feelings for him. When did you fall in love with him?”

She had trouble finding the right answer. “It just happened. I d-don’t really know. Whenever you asked me to look after him, I guess the bond he and I developed from that made me see him in a different light.”

You disregarded the pain in your chest and let the volcano explode on its own, because her answer only meant that she was already growing feelings for your ex-husband at the same time you were confiding to her about him. That was the worst part of it all.

“Why do you like him?” you questioned further, “Despite knowing what happened while I was married to him, why did you still end up falling in love with him? If that’s so hard to answer, then don’t think about us or me or our friendship. Just think about the decisions you made for yourself. Why are you with Satoru?”

Her gaze found the floor. Hesitance. Guilt. Shame. Those emotions were all dancing in her eyes in a complete roundabout. While she took a moment to fully reassess her decision, you weren’t sure if you deserved to still feel hurt when she gave you an honest answer. “When I met Satoru, I didn’t meet the toxic, cheating ex-husband that he was known for,” she said, slowly, “I met a man who holds such a high respect for his ex-wife, adores his son like his greatest gift of all, and values his marriage more than anything else in this world. I met a vulnerable man who isn’t afraid to open his heart to strangers. A man who gave me emotional support even when he’s the one who needed it the most. I… It’s hard to explain, but…”

Was there really anything left to say? Her point was clear, and your silence while she was speaking was more so because you were trying not to let the tiny pricks in your heart affect you further than it already did. The fullness of her voice and the way her eyes shined when she talked about him were enough to tell you that your best friend had truly fallen in love and you would be cruel to take that away from her. Even from him. They would not have been involved in such an intimate relationship if there had been no attraction between them to begin with, so then… Why did it feel like you were being cheated on? She was no Sera, and he was not the Satoru that only used you for his corporate ambitions. It was just Akemi and Satoru—they were each other’s right person at the right time. The only thing blocking their path to a loving relationship was you.

You. The irrational and spiteful ex-wife. The ex-wife who always played the ‘victim card’. The selfish ex-wife who wanted all the good things to only come her way.

Well, god be damned, because you were beginning to confuse yourself with the version of you that wasn’t even remotely like you at all. She was just a mirrored image of yourself that you thought people perceived.

“You can do what you want.” The moment you spoke again, you were already creating a huge wall between you and your best friend, making sure that there were boundaries that none of you should ever cross now that she had chosen to be with someone you had sincerely loved in the past. It may sound like you were letting go, but truth be told, you just didn’t think that you even had the option to hold onto anything. Satoru wasn’t yours and you weren’t his anymore. You were two individuals living separate lives. “If you wanna be with him, that’s your choice. I don’t plan on intervening. It just… just really surprised me that you didn’t have the decency to tell me at all.”

Akemi nodded, apologetically desperate. “I understand how you’re feeling and I’m sorry. I really, truly am sorry, Y/N.” Her voice and her countenance did show the genuineness in her plea to be forgiven, but you were too numb to feel anything else. “I hope we can stay friends despite everything.”

How could you even stay friends in a situation like this?

First option was to keep pretending that their relationship wasn’t bothering you. Second option was to focus on your own relationship with Toji to the point where everything else just didn’t matter anymore.

Yeah, you thought. You could certainly choose the latter.

“Our friendship isn’t my top priority at the moment,” was your straightforward response to her, “I wanna focus on my son and his relationship with his father. That’s all.”

Any regular person would have thought: ‘Wow, Y/N. You handled that well.’ ‘You’re so mature.’ ‘You’re a lot calmer than we expected.’ The thing was, you really did think that you had been way too calm about it. In spite of the scene you caused at the conference room, or the dramatic exchange you had with Akemi in your office, you still handled it much better than one would think. In TV shows or movies, the ex-wife would have dragged the best friend to the ground, slapped her face, pulled her hair, started a nasty catfight, and called her all the terrible labels you could think of. Look, part of you wanted to do that. And the other part of you—the sympathetic, altruistic part of you—thought you shouldn’t do that. You would only look pathetic.

Of all the negative things Satoru had made you feel over the course of your failure of a marriage, this aftermath was probably the toughest.

You just weren't in the right state of mind to justify why.

You also couldn’t justify why you had been looking for unhealthy ways to cope with stress and anxiety. If anyone from your family saw you standing at the smoking area near the parking lot right now, they would have given you an earful of how you must be out of your mind for even putting a cigarette stick between your lips. How exactly could tobacco be good for you? You would say, first of all, that nicotine does in fact cause pleasant feelings to distract you from unpleasant ones. You couldn’t find any other way to relax your mind any faster than one cigarette stick could. Besides, staying in the office and seeing Akemi around was getting too suffocating and you couldn’t afford to have your negative mood lingering in your mind for the rest of the day. One stick wouldn’t hurt. Another one wouldn’t, too. And another one should be fine, right?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The irony. You didn’t even have the time to recoil before the main cause of your stress showed up in front of you, frowning after he snatched the cigarette stick out of your lips. He was quick to throw it to the ground, stomp on it like he would do with your heart, and give you a questioning look that made you scoff at the ridiculousness of this situation. This could be a dream for heaven’s sake. Or a hallucination. There was no way Satoru Gojou would be standing right in front of you just as you were thinking about him.

“Since when have you been doing this?” he questioned again, holding your wrist this time to make you realize that his presence or this interaction wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. It would have been better that way, but the reality was, Satoru was there and he wasn’t the least bit pleased. “I know you’re mad at me and this isn’t the right time for me to chew you out like this, but…” he paused, taking your cigarette pack. “I can’t believe you’re fucking smoking right now, Y/N. Did you get this habit from Toji?”

Okay. Gojou could be way out-of-line sometimes, but this was the apex of it.

“Don’t bring Toji into this,” you snapped back, shooting him a glare that could easily kill. “What are you doing here?”

You could see how deep his inhale was just by the loudness of his sigh after it. His face showed a combination of yearning, regret, frustration, and pity as if he was deciding which emotion should dominate him more. But among the multitude of emotions that were drowning him right now like a tidal wave, he looked all the more exhausted. Whether it was dealing with you, trying to make amends with you, or simply being around you—you could tell that he wanted to drop his constant need to care for you because it was beginning to tire him out.

He didn’t really answer your question, and instead, asked one of his own. “Are you smoking because of stress?” he asked, trying to mask the sympathy in his eyes. “It’s bad for you. Set a good example for Sachiro.”

You’re bad for me, you wanted to say. Why did it even matter to him, anyway? You were nothing more than just a mother to his child. Anything outside that role was completely not his business anymore. The fact that he was even within the vicinity of your office was ridiculous, because you were already having a bad day and his presence was adding further into it. “Don’t you dare talk about setting a good example to my son like you’re so righteous yourself.”

“Y/N, come on.” He reached for your hand once more as if trying to show how much he cared or how worried he was with what you were doing to yourself because of him. “I don’t want you to—”

“Keep your fucking distance, Gojou. You’re not in the place to give a damn about me anymore,” you raged, withdrawing your wrist and breathing heavily as you tried to keep yourself from further exploding. You would have. You were so close to cursing him off, but you saw the flash of pure shock in his eyes, and that was how you realized what you just did. All these violent reactions, these unusual outbursts—these were not you. This was not the meek, soft-spoken ex-wife that he was once married to.

“Toru?”

Unfortunately, Gojou no longer had enough attention span to listen when he looked away, only to turn to his new woman with a genuinely worried expression painted on his face as soon as he saw her coming out of the building with a hand on her cheek. You realized that he was actually here to pick her up and was doing everything that a caring boyfriend would; checking every inch of her face to see how bad she was hurt and asking her what happened and whether she was okay. You didn’t know how to react the moment he turned back to you with his tired, yet passively accusatory eyes. “Did something happen?”

You knew that his question actually translated to: ‘Did you slap her?’ With your thorough knowledge about his acquired trauma from physical violence, you felt the sudden need to clear your name, but you didn’t know if you should be grateful that it was already your best friend who did the part in doing such. “Nothing happened. It was an accident.” Her tone was almost begging before she started tugging his arm. “Let’s just go, please.”

Satoru didn’t want to let it go, but decided that it was best to just leave it be as he glanced at you with a slightly detached gaze. “I’ll see you in a couple of days,” he reminded, referring to the dreaded New York trip together with Sachiro.

A conflicted look from him and an apologetic gaze from her. That was all that you received before they got inside the car and left you alone and miserable in that parking lot. You watched his car fade into view with her on the passenger seat and him probably holding her hand as he drove through the street. Just when you thought you could actually stomach the sight of him and her together, it would be a big fat lie to say that it didn’t sting. It stung worse than the times he ran after Sera than to stay behind with you. Worse than when he used to treat you like a mistress rather than a wife.

You must be going crazy, indeed. Who in their right mind would cry over her ex-husband in the middle of the parking lot? Why would you even shed tears when you were the one who wanted him to find someone else and move on? This was becoming a never-ending loop because you were letting yourself be affected by it. It shouldn’t be that way. Never.

“Toji.” You were doing your hardest to conceal the weakness in your voice as you pressed your phone into your right ear. “I-I need you… right now. Please.”

“Hey, I was just about to pick-up Sachi from daycare. Is everything okay?”

Wiping your eyes, you looked at the dull skies wondering if the universe was trying to reflect all these emotions running inside of you. “Yeah… Can you come soon?”

He didn’t really hesitate to answer, quickly understanding that he had to drop everything else right now and be with you. “Alright, I’ll be there.”

Satoru was conflicted, but he didn’t know what exactly made him feel that way. Was it because he saw you smoking in the parking lot? Or was it because he could tell that you gave Akemi a tongue-lashing after catching her half-naked at the penthouse a few days ago? Either way, both options were not very you. And he couldn’t understand why you were slowly starting to look less and less like the person he knew, which was confusing on his part because you had been adamant on telling him to forget about you. You were rigid on your decision to not let him enter your life as your husband for the second time around. He told you he still loved you, but you said you loved another. He told you he wanted to work things out and make your family complete again, but you said you were already doing that with someone else. Gojou knew his hands weren’t clean and the reason you may be acting that way was because out of all the women he could have been with, it had to be Akemi Hirai. Your best friend. Your confidante. Your business partner. She was a territory he shouldn’t have crossed, yet he did.

But, at the same time, she was the only person who had been there for him during his lowest. She was the company he needed when his heart was the loneliest. He couldn’t even remember the amount of times she came to his aid when he was crying over his memories of you, memories that he could no longer hold onto. Akemi brought peace to his heart, and if there was anyone else he could be with, it would be her.

It was becoming more and more clear to him how he felt about her.

Although, voicing that out loud was a different story. Keeping it in his thoughts was for the best because he didn’t want to lead Akemi on. She didn’t deserve that nor did she deserve to feel like a substitute for someone else. He wanted to be a hundred percent sure about being with her before he could fully confess his real feelings for her. It could still develop through time, perhaps far better and more passionate than what he was sharing with her right now, but until then, settling for what they had at this moment in time was for the better. What was important was that both parties were clear about diving into this relationship.

He wasn’t ready for commitment and she understood that. She was willing to wait for him. She was helping him move on in the least painful way. Where else could he meet such a person like her?

She was gentle, motherly, sensitive, and intuitive. She was classy and sophisticated. She knew how to dress nicely. Her nails were always clean and pretty. Her smile was very charming. Her laugh, endearing. She was the perfect woman anyone could have.

“Why’d you suddenly want to go to the mall?” she asked, intertwining their hands together as she looked up at him with her beautiful doe eyes. Her question made him cut out of his trance, remembering that they were strolling around the galleria.

He touched the small wound on her cheek as if stroking it could make it heal faster. “Nothing,” he said. “Just a last minute idea.”

Truthfully, Gojou wasn’t sure why he had brought her there. All he knew was that he had a lot going on in his mind while he was driving through the city and the next thing he knew, he was already pulling up at the galleria out of his natural instinct. But since they were already there, he might as well buy her a little something. Anything. And then his eyes caught sight of Chanel as if the high-end boutique was pulling his feet with such gravity that it led him to go inside the store while hand-in-hand with the woman next to him.

“Mr. Gojou, how are you?”

Right. The staff knew him so well, especially for the amount of times he had been there with his ex-wife when you two were still married.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” One of the familiar ladies that used to assist you approached him with a lingering stare towards Akemi. “Perhaps for your…?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, can you… uh,” he turned towards the rack of tweed sets, “Do you have any new collections?”

“Yes, absolutely,” said another lady, “Right this way, sir.”

It was easy to notice how the staff were exchanging glances at the sight of Satoru and Akemi together, but his mind was far too distracted by the nostalgia of being in that place alone to even care about his surroundings. All he did was look back at Akemi and encourage her to try out the newest collections that they had, thinking that she was oblivious about what was going through his head. “You go and pick whatever you like.”

Although she was clearly not used to it, Akemi did eventually try on some of the outfits he specifically had chosen for her. They were Chanel’s signature tweed sets that he always found to be very elegant, and he definitely wasn’t wrong that they would suit her when she came out of the dressing room to show him how the clothes wrapped her small frame perfectly.

He could see your smile through her face, your excitement when you tried the outfits on, and the shine in your eyes when you looked at yourself in the mirror. Except, Gojou had to remind himself that you weren’t her. That his mind was just messing with him.

No, this was wrong. Why was he thinking about you while he was with her?

He had to have some sort of distraction. Something so tangible that all of his senses would go numb.

The one way he was able to overcome that dilemma was by sharing yet another steamy exchange with Akemi later that night. He couldn’t remember who initiated first, but it must have been the equal desire that they had for each other when they dove straight into a heated makeout session the moment they stepped inside his bedroom. One thing led to another. First he was kissing her lips, then her collarbones, then her inner thighs—devouring her completely with his lust-driven actions, doing the most by pleasuring her body using his own.

She was a giver just as she was a receiver. Not that he didn’t expect her to be so experienced when it came to sex, but she definitely knew what she was doing without any guidance from him. Perhaps he just wasn’t used to it anymore. Perhaps he had just forgotten how it felt to have sex with someone who didn’t rely on him to initiate the next steps they should do. Fuck, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone stared at his eyes while putting his hardened member inside her mouth the way she did. She knew her power over him while at his most vulnerable state, ruining his masculine ego and destroying it with her own feminine pride.

And in the midst of their intimate session, Gojou was zoning out while he was sliding a condom across his shaft, ready to enter her from the back. His mind was giving him a flash of memory, not a distant but recent one from two days ago.

“I still can’t believe you did that, Mom. You’re being ridiculous.”

His mother wasn’t exactly showing the slightest hint of regret on her face despite knowing full well that sending the custody claim almost made you lose your mind. She was keeping a straight face as she sat on the barstool next to him, taking a sip of wine from her glass while he, on his own, was downing a glass of scotch. “She had it coming.”

Satoru sighed his frustration away. “Don’t do that again or today’s the last time you’ll ever see me.”

“What are you talking about?” His mother frowned. “Who was there for you when you were trying to end your own life because of the lies she told you, huh? You’re feeling bad for her now, but did she feel bad for you back then? You missed three years of your son’s life because she was being too spiteful towards you.”

He had never met someone more stubborn than his own mother, but maybe this was a clear sign for Satoru to realize where he must have acquired that one similar trait of his. After all, people always made it seem that he was more like his dad even though he despised being compared to his father. To say that his mother was a complete angel was a lie. But neither was he. “Whatever, just don’t… Just leave Y/N alone. She’s still the mother of my child and I don’t want us to keep fighting. At least, for Sachi’s sake.”

His mother finished her glass of wine before turning the stool towards his direction. There was a minute of silence that passed between them before she spoke again. “I just don’t want you to get back with her, darling. You two are toxic together.”

Funny, because he could say the same thing for her and his father. “Well, it’s not gonna happen now. Y/N’s gonna hate me forever.”

“What, ‘cause she rejected you again?”

“No,” he countered, shaking his head and chugging all the remaining liquor on his glass. “She knows about the thing I have with Akemi now.”

Her mouth fell open, gasping as she did so. “Y-You… and Akemi? Are you together?”

Satoru expected this reaction from her, but didn’t think she would actually be more fixated on his new relationship than the effect it would bring on her ex-daughter-in-law. “It’s not something to be proud of, Mom.”

“Well, I’m proud of you,” she still stressed that fact, “It’s nice to hear that you’re finally moving on, Satoru. Y/N is not good for you, but I know Akemi will be. I like her and I know she’ll make you a lot happier than Y/N ever did.”

“You’re still awake?” Gojou let out a yawn as he felt the heaviness of his eyelids telling him that it was time to sleep. He tried checking the time on his phone, but realized that he still had the photo of you and Sachiro as his lockscreen. He wasn’t planning on changing it anytime soon, but considering that Akemi saw it, he was expecting that she would have something to say, yet nothing came out of her mouth. She simply stayed silent while laying on his chest, letting him touch the slope of her naked back as she slightly raised her head to meet his eyes. He had already closed his phone and placed it back on the nightstand. “What, did I not tire you enough?”

“Shut up.” She hid her reddened cheeks and smiled on the crook of his neck. Her hand was placed on his chest, fingers tracing his collarbones. “No, I’m just thinking about how you’re gonna manage New York and all.”

Satoru’s breathing was still for a few seconds, keeping his eyes glued on the ceiling as he held her on your marital bed. “You’re scared that the infamous cheater is gonna cheat on you or something?” he joked, a distasteful one, but still meant to ease whatever was burdening her mind. “Not gonna happen even if we’re in an open relationship.”

“That’s not it,” Akemi quickly replied, denying his claims, “I’m more like hoping that you’ll be patient with her. She gets angry a lot these days and we know we’re the main cause of it, so please. Please don’t try to argue with her, okay? If she says hurtful things, learn to understand her.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around her smaller frame. Gojou was certain that he was about to doze off soon now that he had closed his eyes and let the exhaustion pull him into a good night’s sleep. “I won’t,” he spoke his words slowly, drifting off to dreamland, “I won’t make her angry.”

“Okay.” He felt her lips kissing his jaw just before the both of them gradually matched the calmness of each other’s chest. One heart, one soul, two bodies. “Good night, ‘Toru.”

…

In the middle of his sleep, he mumbled, “Good night, Y/N.”

On the other side of the city, you woke up in the middle of your slumber, facing the handsome face of your fiancé, Toji Zen’in, who had already drifted off to dreamland while holding you in his muscular arms. No wonder people were jealous of you for having such a refined man like him in your bed every night you go to sleep. The thing was, you had no reason to feel discontented with your life since you already had everything. You were wealthier than the average person, you ran a business that you were passionate about, you had an adorable son who meant the world to you, and you had Toji. There was nothing else you could ask for. And if by remembering Sera’s words back then, you would be selfish to ask for anything more because others didn’t even have half the fortune you had.

So, in that sense, you should be happy.

You had to be happy.

You were happy, right?

“Go to sleep,” whispered a half-awake Toji, stirring from his sleep as he held your waist tighter like you were his comfort pillow. “You alright?”

Sighing inwardly, you traced the scar on his lips. “You’re so gorgeous.”

His lazy, boyish smile came into view. “I know that,” he joked, closing his eyes as if succumbing into a few more minutes of sleep. “Don’t tell me you’re turned on right now ‘cause I can go all night. Doggy. Missionary. Cowboy. Reverse cowboy.”

Were you? Maybe a little. And maybe you had to have a distraction from your ‘source of happiness’.

“That’s very naughty of you, Mr. Zen’in,” you replied, cheeks heating up from his vulgar words. Your hand was finding its way to his toned chest, while his were traveling to the curves of your waist and hips. You could feel him angling his body to make sure he had access to slide your underwear just a little above your knee, gliding his hand along your thigh before letting his fingers touch your sensitive bud. “T-Toji—”

A smirk appeared on his lips. “Hm? I thought you wanted this?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Y-Yeah, I…” There was no use holding back from moaning because his fingers knew how to move perfectly well, playing with your clit in circular motions before sliding two of them into your entrance. “...Fuck.”

“Feel good?” His hot breath tickled your neck, moving his mouth from your collarbones down to the valley between your breasts. “Wish you knew how delicious you are.”

Another moan, much louder this time around, escaped your lips when he attached his mouth onto your breast, sucking the round mass with his tongue doing God’s work. You were so high into sexual desire that your back arched on its own, dominated by the pleasing sensation all over your body. You could barely even respond to him when he started asking why your mood had been so down when he picked you up after work or why you still wouldn’t tell him whatever happened back there.

“It’s nothing,” you replied, disregarding the painful encounter you’ve had with your ex-husband and your best friend. “...Just work stuff.”

As you closed your eyes, you could feel Satoru’s fingers entering deep inside of you, deep enough to have reached your g-spot and have you moaning wildly. It felt unreal. It felt goddamn out of this world. But since Satoru was familiar with every inch of your body, his touch alone could easily send you to seventh heaven. He was heavenly. He was saintly. That mesmerizing gaze of his paired with his sky blue eyes and messy white hair. His beautiful, beautiful face, watching you beg for him to do more. More. More…

“Satoru…”

The intense feeling suddenly stopped, awakening you back to your senses as you opened your eyes and saw the dark, animalistic gaze of Toji Zen’in. “What’d you say?” he asked in a deep voice.

Out of panic, you slightly pulled away and shook your head. “N-Nothing. What did I say?”

“I thought I heard you say his…” he trailed off, pulling his fingers out of you and instead, placing a tight grip on your hip. “Did you?”

“No, no. Not at all.” Your voice came in a hushed tone, looking at his eyes intently. “Why would I do that?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, falling back into the bed with one arm under his head. “Don’t play games with me, Y/N.”

Desperation led you to climb on top of him, sitting on his crotch before encasing your lips with his soft ones. “I’m not,” you mumbled, kissing him again. “I never did. I promise.”

Yet, despite your attempts at inviting him for an open-mouthed kiss, he had already lost the interest to engage in sexual activities with you. He didn’t say anything nor tried to argue about the shit that you said, but he did stay silent for a couple of minutes, simply holding you on top of him without another word to utter. It scared you to think what was going through Toji’s mind, but this was also all your fault. Why, in the first place, did you even let your mind imagine that white-haired toxic ex-husband of yours when you had Toji Zen’in in front you?

Perhaps in this relationship, you were the toxic one.

You were the poison that could kill the life out of the man who only wanted to love and heal you.

“Toji, I’m sorry…”

He held his breath. “Should I be concerned that you’re going on a trip with him?”

“No, it’s…” Pulling away, you gave him a look of combined sincerity and denial. “We’re just gonna fix Sachiro’s papers, you know that. We won’t even be staying in the same room.”

Fixing Sachiro’s papers. Dealing with his dual citizenship. Changing his last name to Gojou. Solidifying your son’s identity as the son of Satoru Gojou. That’s all there is to it. All the technical matters.

“Is he staying at a hotel or are you letting him stay at your apartment in Manhattan?” he asked, although there was no hint of suspicion in his voice. Or at least, he must be good at hiding it.

You chose to be honest. “I have to let him stay at my apartment,” was your answer, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Only because Sachi wants his dad around all the time. We’re just trying our best to co-parent.”

Toji’s dry humor took over. “You sure you’re not gonna let him fuck you senseless?” His tone was laced with resentment. “And then you’ll come home to me crying about how he got you pregnant for the second time. You’d better kiss our marriage goodbye if that happens.”

“What kind of person do you think I am?” you retorted, annoyed by his word of choice as if you were a cheating scumbag. “If he’s gonna get someone pregnant, that won’t be me.”

His eyes sparked with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Deciding between telling and not telling, you figured that the latter would only cause more drama to bounce back at you like a boomerang. “He’s with Akemi.”

It looked like Toji didn’t hear it right. “Akemi? How’d that happen?”

“I don’t know what kinda relationship they have, okay?” you snapped, no longer wanting to keep up with this topic further. “I just caught them. They said they’re seeing each other, but it’s complicated or whatever—I don’t really give a damn. But he’s with her is all I know.”

Toji went silent for a few minutes, unable to determine whether he should find the situation pitiful or humorous. One thing for sure though, was that he found it unbelievable. “That son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, smiling in disbelief, “So this is what’s ruining your mood these days, huh?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in response. “It’s not.”

“Your ex-husband slept with your best friend. Yeah, I’d be mad, too.” His comment wasn’t really meant to irk you, but he successfully did so. Minus the intention. “Getting mad is understandable, getting jealous is questionable. Which one are you?”

Fuck it. “I said I’m not jealous. Will you stop now?” You sunk yourself under the covers, turning your back on Toji. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Now that he knew and you saw his reaction, you wondered what it would be like if Gen and Ian knew. Or if your dad knew. What would they think of Satoru? What would they think of Akemi? No, nevermind that. What would they think of you? Another fool in a deck of cards? Another game that was played with?

You didn’t want to know.

Ideally, you and Satoru really shouldn’t have gone to this New York trip together as if your family was still intact, because as much as you wished that that was true, you were far from that. You were only playing house for the sake of your son, but that also meant putting you in a painfully awkward situation together as ex-spouses. He had a girlfriend back home and you had a loving and loyal fiancé who proved the whole word that he was loyal to you. And although your respective partners were supporting the whole co-parenting situation, you knew by yourselves that this was nowhere to near to being comfortable for them, too.

“Everything okay?” You heard the familiar voice of your past, only to see his dull, blue eyes taking a peek at you.

“Yeah,” you replied, almost inaudibly. You just boarded the plane while Satoru was talking to the pilot, and found your spot on one of the beds in his private jet. It took a few minutes for him to get to where you were now. “Why?”

He shrugged, eyeing a sleepy Sachiro next to you. “Just wanna make sure you and Sachi are comfortable.”

You didn’t know what else to say, so you just looked back at your peaceful son who was hugging his elmo plush like the cute angel he was. Even though he was growing so fast, you could still remember how he was just as small as a puppy in your arms when he was first born. The memory of it caused you to press your lips on his forehead, caressing his soft, white hair. At some point while observing the scene, your son’s father thought it would be a good idea to slide the blanket further up your shoulders, acting as though he was only doing it to keep Sachiro warm. And later, he sat on the reclined airplane seat, drinking the coffee that was served to him by the stewardess.

It was crazy.

Crazy that Toji could be lying next to you and you would feel nothing. But Gojou was meters away from you and your mind was on a never-ending race.

Just before noon, the airplane landed safely at JFK airport and Satoru’s driver took you straight to Central Park Towers, treated like a V.I.P. by security just because your ex-husband was Japan’s third richest person and second most influential businessman. At times like these, you would almost forget the power Satoru held even before he was the chairman. You two were almost royalty. Now that he was leading the Gojou Group, his reputation only grew more despite the scandal of your broken marriage. He knew not to share his relationship publicly anymore nor did he expose Sachiro to any of his social media. It was a mutual decision for you to keep your son away from the spotlight knowing the scrutiny and the lack of privacy that would enter your lives once again—all the unnecessary noise, the unwanted comments, the unruly attention. Besides, for safety reasons, Sachiro had to be hidden from the public since he would become the sole heir to his father’s conglomerate, inheriting his parents combined assets that could one day make him the richest and most sought after bachelor in Japan.

“Mamaaa!” A lively Sachi came running to you as soon as he entered the lobby of the apartment suites, his father following him behind.

“Careful, baby!” you said, standing at the lobby while talking to your housekeeper, “You might trip.”

Satoru decided to carry his son after noticing your worried expression and immediately walked towards you. He was all smiles as he looked at Sachiro’s cheerful blue eyes. “He seems a little excited, isn’t he?”

“He lived here for almost three years,” you answered, signaling a quick ‘thank you’ to your housekeeper before guiding your boys to the elevator. “He must’ve missed the place. Did you, Sachi?”

“Yes, mama~”

It was a little bittersweet for your ex-husband, though. Especially the moment he stepped inside the apartment, looking at every corner and realizing that it was the same place you had lived in back when he was suffering from emotional distress on the other side of the world. This apartment was where his own child grew up in and he had no idea he had even existen then. Not only did that make you a terrible ex-wife, but it also made you a heartless mother. You had separated them and now you were taking him to the place where you had his son hidden from him.

That wasn’t your intention. That was never your intention.

“I’m glad you chose a nice place,” he complimented, acting as casual as possible. “Does your father own this place or?”

“Gen loaned it to me,” you said, holding Sachiro’s hand while letting Satoru follow you closely. You stopped at one of the guest rooms and urged the tall man to feel at home. “You can stay here for the meantime.”

“I don’t wanna make things uncomfortable for Akemi.” He looked away, avoiding your eyes. “I can just stay at a hotel—”

“Dada!” His mini-me tugged at his hand along with yours. You already knew that those puppy eyes would look back at the both of you. “Sachi wants Dada to stay.”

Frankly, you weren’t upset a while ago, but since he had to bring up Akemi and make it seem like her feelings were his priority, you lost all the will to be kind. Was their relationship that deep for him to act like such a loyal, righteous partner? Where was that same loyalty when he married you? “Do whatever.”

Noticing the tension between his parents, Sachiro’s eyes started to well up with tears and that was all it took for you two to completely focus your attention back to your 3-year old.

“Sachi…” Satoru tried to reach for his son, but you (spitefully) beat him to it.

“It’s okay, my baby. Don’t cry,” you comforted your son, picking him up and carrying him in your arms, “Daddy will still visit you every day even if he's staying at a hotel.”

Satoru, as guilty as ever, shook his head and wiped his son’s eyes. “No. I’ll stay here for Sachi, okay? Don’t cry anymore.”

It felt like hours sitting on that enormous sofa, staring at the television screen even though your mind was miles away. You had already texted Toji good night and reassured him that everything was fine, but you still couldn’t stop thinking about what he was doing back home. Sachiro had fallen asleep almost half an hour ago, and how you wished you could also enjoy your slumber while snuggling under those heated blankets, but how could you? How could you be comfortable in the presence of an ex-husband who was coming out of his room, freshly showered in his low-waisted sweatpants and tight-fitting black shirt? Not to mention how he was obviously flexing his arms while drying his mop of messy, white hair with a towel. Ridiculous. A little seductive, but definitely ridiculous.

“Still up?” His sky blue eyes met yours as soon as he looked up.

You adjusted your position on the sofa and leaned on the corner, pulling a small cushion to place above your thighs. “Can’t sleep.”

And the night went on just like that. You, sitting on the couch. Him, sitting on the other end as if going near you might suffocate him. It didn’t help that the silence was beginning to be too uncomfortable. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking of. Perhaps Akemi? Perhaps you? You doubted the latter.

“I think…” You cleared your throat to escape from the awkward tension. “I think I’m gonna go for a night swim. You can go to sleep next to Sachi tonight, just make sure not to wake him up.”

Satoru’s curious gaze trailed on you as you got up and tightened your robe. “It’s a little too late at night to go for a swim, no?”

You couldn’t even face him as you responded. “I need to clear my mind off some things.” And by things, you meant him and this whole mess of a situation that you had put yourselves together. Two divorcees staying in the same living space wasn’t exactly a brilliant idea to begin with.

“Want me to join you?” asked Satoru, and he himself could not believe he asked that question. He may have asked it out of his innate care for you, probably worried for no damn reason. What he didn’t realize was how wrong his suggestion was, especially that you two were dating other people now.

If only you were such a cruel person, how ironic would it be if you allowed Satoru Gojou to join you for a quick night swim?

How ironic would it be for you to feel each other’s warmth under the crystal pool, getting carried away by the romantic lights that lit the city?

How ironic would it be if the intense sexual tension ended with you doing things under the sheets, completely disregarding the fact that the both of you had respective partners who were overthinking this exact NYC trip?

How ironic would it be if, for once in your life, you became the cheater?

Thankfully, you didn’t have the mindset of a cheating person.

However, it was Satoru who took back his initial offer. “Never mind. Forget I even asked that,” he muttered, sounding annoyed more so to himself rather than at you.

You offered a nonchalant shrug. “Okay.”

And as you were heading to the poolside, you could sense Gojou’s presence behind even though he just very clearly rejected the idea of going on a swim with you. He was still the same confusing man that you married before. Only now, he was ten times worse. “Wait, Y/N.”

“What?” You turned around, annoyed at his push-and-pull behavior. At this point, you didn’t really care what he was thinking of anymore. All you did was to take off your robe, leaving yourself with only your underwear on before you slowly got down on the pool.

Gojou, on the other hand, was ridding himself of his shirt and sweatpants to join you in the pool with just his boxers on. What even was this situation? You two had that same question in your head despite swimming at the edge of the pool to stare at the cityscape. “I only asked to join you because I wanted to talk. That’s all.”

You wanted to laugh at how he was clearing his intentions to you.

“Why do you sound defensive around me?” He couldn’t see it, but you were rolling your eyes as you leaned against the pool coping. “I never knew Akemi would be the jealous type.”

Satoru looked surprised by your claim, seeming as though he didn’t recognize the kind of person you were anymore. You were never this unreasonably sarcastic nor acidic with your words during your marriage even at the height of his affair with Sera, yet you had just become the worst version of yourself. “She isn’t,” he muttered, finding his spot next to you, “But I don’t wanna give her a reason to be.”

You huffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You make it sound like I’m gonna make a move on you or something.”

“I never said that.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“Says who?”

What is it about Satoru Gojou that makes him so irritating? Was it the way he talks? The way he thinks he’s always right? The way he acts like he’s such a clean person?

“Please,” you retorted, bitterly. “Toji isn’t comfortable having you around me, either. Just so you know.”

“Can we just—” There. His last string of patience finally snapped and his true colors came to show when he grabbed your wrist and made you face him. The spiteful Satoru. He was back, even just for a second. “Y/N, I’m not trying to argue with you here. I’m trying to talk to you like a civilized person. You’re the mother of my child and I respect you. I’d still care for you and will always protect you, but I want you to at least act like a fucking person around me. You’re a grown woman.”

Wasn’t it bad that he, of all people, was basically telling you to grow up? Memories of your marriage and all the back-and-forth arguments that you had with him flashed before your eyes. He should be the last one to say such a thing. “You’re the one who’s been crossing the fucking line with me since day one, Gojou. Don’t tell me to—”

“And do you wish I had just killed myself for you to forgive me?!” The ridges of his neck became prominent, making his anger much visible now. He was staring down at you intensely, backing you against the edge of the pool, trapping you in between his arms. “I’d have probably done that. But you…You did unforgivable things to me and look how easy it was for me to forgive you.”

You looked away, not trying to have this conversation again. Not trying to have your guilt eat your heart out. Maybe your behavior really had become too much and it was about time you take a step back and realize how ridiculous you had been acting because no way was this man trying to make a better point than you.

“I slept with Akemi, I know. She’s your best friend, I fucking know. But I never did that to get back at you,” his voice bore so much authority in them. “I begged on my knees just to be with you again. Swallowed my pride just for you to be my wife again!” His breathing became ragged. “But you chose to move on. You said you love Toji. You said you’d be happier without me, so why don’t I deserve to be happy without you?”

The inability to speak wasn’t because you were at a loss of words. The problem was choosing the right ones. Words that wouldn’t put you in a disadvantageous position. Words that wouldn’t make you look like an unreasonable person.

“You wished me well when you first found out about Akemi and I. You said you don’t care who I choose to date even if that choice is her,” he said, much calmer this time. He was placing his forehead against yours, body pressed against each other. “If that was true, then why are you still so angry with me?”

Your heart raced as you locked eyes with him. His eyes were the same kind of blue that reflected off of the surface of the pool. Anyone could easily get lost in it, but you knew where to place yourself in order not to. “I’m… not angry…”

“Baby, you and I both know that’s not true,” he said with a serious gaze, lifting your chin with his hand.

But you swatted it away, averting your eyes. “Don’t call me baby. You’re being ridiculous.”

With a loud sigh, Gojou gave up and simply placed his forehead on your shoulder, letting you feel the weight of his head and the warmth of his breath. “If you were still my wife, I’d have kissed you right now,” he declared, breathing heavily as if stopping with all of his will to do what he just said. “I’d touch every inch of you, tell you how much I love you, carry you back into that room, and make more beautiful babies with you…”

“Satoru,” you warned just as he pulled away, smiling despite the sorrow in his eyes.

“…But I won’t do that. I’m not gonna do that,” he claimed and sounded like he was convincing himself rather than clearing it up. “Akemi doesn’t deserve a partner who can’t move on from his ex-wife, so I’m doing my best to forget about you.”

Your breathing took a halt. You weren’t sure where those tiny pricks in your heart came from. Toji needed the same. He deserved a wife who wasn’t pining for her ex-husband. Satoru was just being true.

“Then, forget about me,” you gave a barely audible reply.

Gojou pulled away and kept his distance now, showing that he was indeed trying to stick to his words. “I will.”

Why did it hurt when it shouldn’t have?

“Good.”

He looked at you with eyes that carried a million emotions. But what was most visible was him seeing the light, probably realizing that he truly was doing the right thing and that he was proud of himself for being able to resist you. Because then, that only meant he was only a few steps away from the path of moving on. That if he could let you go, then he could live a better life.

It only made sense why he pulled that little stunt back there—being close enough to you was probably his way of differentiating how his body reacted to you versus how it reacted to Akemi. And now that he was able to determine whatever difference that might be, it would be easier for him to know what exactly to avoid.

After all, you two would be spending the rest of your lives as a present mom and dad to Sachiro. Co-parenting was your only connection and the only way to make that work without falling for each other was to rid yourselves of any kind of attraction towards one another.

Good for him.

“Let’s be good parents, Y/N.” Satoru looked at you from across the pool. “Let’s set a good example for Sachi and show that divorced parents can still be good parents. Let’s not be toxic to each other, especially not in front of him.” His words were coming from his personal experience and as you knew the whole history behind the mess within his family, you were truthfully considerate of his words. His traumatic experiences were what shaped him to become the problematic man you once married, and he was doing his best not to let his own son be the same. “I’ll provide Sachiro with everything he needs and I’ll always be present in his life, so please let me have as much time with him as possible. I’m making up for the three years I lost with him.”

You nodded. “I don’t have a problem with that.

As the established relationship you had with Gojou became more professional and strictly transactional, the distance between you two also grew more and more. There was no longer any space for love and intimacy. There was only familiarity and acquaintanceship.

“Go to sleep soon,” he said without sending another glance your way, climbing out of the pool and reaching for his clothes, “We have a long day tomorrow.”

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk angst

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dunebrat · 29 days

Text

FORBIDDEN HEIR ˚ ♡ ˚

Feyd Rautha x reader

Summary : you find yourself trapped in a loveless marriage to Glossu Beast Rabban, a man whose brutality knows no bounds. Unable to bear him an heir, you turn to Feyd Rautha, in a desperate bid to secure your position within the ruthless Harkonnen house

ㅤ────────────────────────

As a year passed since your marriage to Glossu Beast Rabban, whispers began to swirl among the women of the court. Their curious glances and subtle inquiries cut deeper than any blade, their judgment heavy in the air like a suffocating fog. You, younger than your husband and eager to prove your worth, felt the weight of their scrutiny like a leaden burden upon your shoulders. Each passing day brought with it a new wave of gossip, their tongues wagging with speculation and thinly veiled accusations.

"Why hasn't she borne him an heir yet?"

"Is she barren, or just unwilling to fulfill her duty?"

"She's too young to understand the importance of her role."

Their words stung like venom, poisoning the fragile bond between you and Glossu. As the months pass by, your husband becomes increasingly frustrated by your inability to conceive. He watches as other noble families celebrate the arrival of heirs, while the halls of the Harkonnen palace remain devoid of the pitter-patter of tiny feet. "Why have you not given me an heir yet?" he demands, his voice laced with anger and disappointment.

You feel a pang of guilt and shame as his accusatory gaze falls upon you. You know the truth that it's not for lack of trying, but rather a cruel twist of fate that has left you barren. You try to explain, to reassure him that you are doing everything in your power to fulfill your duty, but Glossu's fury knows no bounds. "You are worthless to me if you cannot bear me a child!" he bellows, his words echoing through the palace corridors.

You shrink back, feeling the weight of his words like a physical blow. You have devoted yourself to him, to the Harkonnen name, and yet it seems that will never be enough. Women were

Later that night with trembling hands and a heart heavy with guilt, you approached Feyd-Rautha. His aura, both dark and dangerous, sent shivers down your spine. But this was your last chance for a child, a flicker of hope in a sea of despair. "Please," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, "it's not Glossu's fault. Your brother's health that stands in our way. I beg of you, Feyd, help me conceive an heir or I will be sent away if I cannot do this"

His gaze bore into yours, a calculating glint betraying the mask of indifference he wore. Silence hung in the air. Then, with a tilt of his head and a ghost of a smile, Feyd-Rautha spoke, his voice like velvet wrapped around steel. "I'll consider your proposal, but remember, my dear sister-in-law, every deal with the devil comes with its price."

"I understand. Whatever the cost, I am willing to pay it." You responded

He smirks as he turns to leave, you're left alone with your thoughts

Later that night you found yourself underneath him, his cock pounding into you as he took what was rightfully yours. You could feel the power and dominance of him inside you, claiming your body for himself.

He wanted to breed you, to make you his. And as he continued to fuck you with a primal intensity, it was clear that this wasn't just about sex for him-it was an act of possession and control. He wanted to own you, and he was going to take what he thought belonged to him. He went for hours claiming you as your husband was away on another planet handling business. Taking you in every position and using your body for his own pleasure. He doesn't care about your needs or desires-he just wants to use you as a vessel for his lustful urges.

He cums inside you

you feel his hot seed fill your womb. He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath. You lay there beneath him, feeling the weight of his body pressing down upon yours. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, and you know that he is still inside of you. He slowly pulls out of you with a soft moan as the last drops of cum drip from him onto you.

He rolls off of you and lays next to you, his breathing still heavy. You lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath as well. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, and it's a strange feeling. It feels like he has claimed your body as his own-like this is what was always meant to be between the two of you. You reach down and touch your pussy, feeling the wetness of his cum on you. It's a strange sensation-one that is both comforting and exciting at the same time.

The affair between you and Feyd unfolded as the nights passed, your meetings became bolder. As the weeks passed, a wave of nausea washed over you, leaving you weak and trembling in its wake.

Desperate for relief, you sought solace in the chambers of the healers, their gentle ministrations offering fleeting respite from the relentless onslaught of sickness. Yet, despite their best efforts, the cause of your affliction remained a mystery, shrouded in uncertainty and fear. Then, one fateful day, Glossu's booming voice echoed through the halls of the stronghold, his announcement sending shockwaves through the court like a bolt of lightning on a clear day.

"Gather round, my loyal subjects," he declared, his voice ringing with pride and triumph. "For it brings me great joy to announce that my beloved wife is with child."

A chorus of cheers erupted from the assembled crowd, their cries mingling with the pounding of your heart as you stood frozen in disbelief.

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of Feyd's lips as you make eye contact with the true father of your child

Part 2 coming soon 𓏲◜ 🎀

#feyd oneshot #feyd rautha #feyd smut #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha smut #feyd imagine #feyd rautha x reader #fey

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heedeungism · 2 months

Text

synopsis: the duke loves you dearly, yes, but how could you possibly know that? includes: bridgerton au, suggestive, profanity , hoon is a rake

as duke and duchess of hastings, it was expected that you produce an heir within the year. being the notorious love match of the season, the diamond and the duke, the image of your family back in london was counting on your ability to ‘perform your duty’, as the ton loved to put it.

sunghoon, your husband, the duke, had been the one to propose the deal. you’d been told your whole life that your interests meant nothing if your husband did not share them, yet he had asked you what your favorite color was. you had been told that horse riding wasn’t ladylike, yet he had shown you his favorite mare and asked you if you’d ever ridden.

he was all the right things, you’d thought. though truthfully, he had one quality you couldn't look past. he was a rake. he frequented brothels, fucked whores, but called on you and gave you the most expensive flowers, and spoke the sweetest of nothings. it was almost enough to look past. you’d thought that you’d be able to get past it, that if he was in love with you enough to propose he’d be in love enough to stop visiting the brothels.

that hope was shattered the moment he’d proposed. it wasn’t romantic, nor was it anything you wanted.

“a deal?” you remember asking when he had looked at you with eyes you had never seen so unfeeling, “or a marriage?”

“you will be allowed the estate. every luxury you desire will be yours.” he had stated, “while i—“

“spend your nights at your beloved brothels?” his face when you had spoken those words had sent your heart into its own frozen hell. “you do not have to explain yourself, your grace.”

and so, the two of you married. you knew that despite the pieces he had left your heart in he would keep his word, and he did. you’d never worn such luxurious gowns nor felt fabric so soft and breathable as your nightdress.

your mama had told you little about what the night of your wedding entailed, only that if a certain event did not transpire the marriage would be null. that event was never described in full to you by your mother, only hinted at by jane austen, and yet it had been nearly a month since your nuptials and the duke had left the space between the two of you alarmingly obvious. the large bed that while you both slept on you did not share, the avoidance of eye contact, and the heat of his hand on yours only for him to pull away before you can let it pool.

on mornings that you allow yourself to sleep in, you are unsure if the ghostly touch along your cheekbone and the gentle tucking of your hair out of your face is your imagination or just the breeze coming from the open window. on nights that you are plagued by the feeling of being undesirable, you can feel his gaze on your back when he thinks you’re asleep.

on a night like this one, you find yourself reaching a point of exhaustion. “your grace.” you greet as you enter his study, the place he would keep to himself and even eat on most nights.

he barely glances up from his paperwork, “do you need something?”

shaking your head, you pull the shawl you have over your shoulders to cover the skin that your nightdress didn’t. the pink color of the fabric was what you had described as your favorite when the duke had asked. it’s the color of nearly every dress you have been provided with since moving into clyvedon. “no, i simply came to inform you that i am having the maids move my things into the duchess’s chambers.”

his interest is piqued, and he finally looks at you. “why ever would you have them do that?”

“is reason needed to move into my own chambers?”

your response garners a look from your husband, “separate rooms shall not be suffered.”

his words cause you to scoff, “yet a silent marriage will be?”

he is silent for a moment before he speaks, “jones.” the butler standing by the door straightens up, “inform the maids that they will under no circumstances move the duchess’ belongings from our chambers.”

“sir.” the man nods, exiting the room and leaving you with your husband.

“will you continue to go about your days acting as if i do not exist?” you question goes unanswered as sunghoon resumes his paperwork. “fine, i will move them myself.”

“you will do no such thing.”

“oh, i believe i will.” you retort and sunghoon stands, hands placed on the desk as his jaw shifts.

“i forbid you.”

the audacity baffles you, frustration turning into fury within the second, “you forbid me?”

sunghoon walks out from behind his desk, stopping beside it, “you are my wife. your hatred i can tolerate but i will not allow the agony of separate rooms.”

“am i your wife?” you ask, watching his hands twitch at his sides and his eyes darken, “we had a wedding, yes, but if we did not spend that night together are we truly married?”

“you speak nonsense.” he dismisses, eyes no longer on you as he turns away, “go to bed.”

“do not speak to me like i am a child—“

“i said-“ he starts, voice raising as he turns back toward you with a darkness in his gaze, “go. to. bed.”

his eyes pierce your own as his voice is low and nearly breathless, you lower your chin just the slightest as your heart aches, “i am not a child, nor am i a fool. i know you do not love me but i did not think you cruel enough for trickery.”

“trickery?” he asks, seemingly clueless as the what you mean.

you begin, “the day we met in that garden i thought you different, kind. you led me to believe such lies, you knew i could not say no to you, you trapped me in a loveless marriage that you knew i did not desire—“

“loveless? if that is what you believe this marriage to be, it is not i who is the cause,” he argues, and you narrow your eyes.

“am i to believe that you love me? have your actions up to this very moment warranted such beliefs?” your question causes your husband’s jaw to shift.

“go to bed.” he looks down at his desk again.

“do not tell me what to do.”

“what do you want from me?” he whips around to look at you. “i have given you riches, i have given you every gown you could possibly desire, i have had the finest soaps imported from india and yet you continue to oppose me. what. do. you. want?”

“i want a husband. not a stranger that i share a bed with, not a keeper.” you state, “i know you do not love me, but if I am to be duchess and produce an heir i deserve better than an absent duke.”

sunghoon remains silent for a moment before his hands clench into fists and his cold eyes meet your own. “call me a stranger, loathe my existence for the rest of your life but never think for even a moment that i do not love you.”

you are stunned into silence, and he continues, stepping closer and closer until your breaths mingle as he says, “i have spent the past fortnights in agony. suffering through the nights i cannot touch you. speaking to you is not enough, nor is being in your company. i have never in my life felt as though i cannot inhale what another does not exhale and yet i find myself suffocating with every moment i am not by your side.”

his fingers ghost over your cheekbone and you find your breath caught in your throat. “i have loved you ever since i saw you in that garden. do not dare question that.”

your lips part and his eyes follow them. your chest rises as you inhale sharply and deeply, attempting to process the words leaving his lips as well as their close proximity to your own. “you…love me.”

your tone is not one of question, and his pleasure in that fact is shown through both his actions and the three words you had yearned to leave his lips since he’d proposed. the same lips that capture yours in a hungry and insatiable kiss that has you in shambles.

your knees buckle, legs turning to jelly, and like he had expected it his arms wrap around you and pulls you closer. his tongue meets yours the moment your lips part and as he brings you to sit on his desk, the pressure of his body between your legs sends a jolt of pleasure you have never experienced before up your body, prompting a choked whimper to escape between the mess of lips and tongue.

“your grace.” you exhale against him, quickly silenced by his lips once again as he breathes you in like you’re the last atom of oxygen on earth.

“your grace.” he responds in kind, hand trailing up your thigh under your nightdress. then, there’s contact and a loud keen that like the rest of them, he swallows with ease.

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

#enhypen #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x yn #bridgerton au #historical au #marriage of convenience #sunghoon smut #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon drabble #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen x yn #sunghoon bridgerton au #suggestive #romance #bridgerton #hoonie 🩷

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phoward89 · 2 months

Text

Based on this ask

Coriolanus Snow knew firsthand the deadly risks of childbirth, considering he watched in horror as a young child when his own mother and baby sister died, but he knew that he needed an heir to carry on the Snow name. When he planned on marrying for hate, well, he could care less what happened to his wife during the delivery.

But, somehow, all his plans and views on marriage changed when he met you. You were hired as his secretary, so you spent a lot of time with him. Coriolanus never planned on falling in love with you, but he did. Hell, he even killed your boyfriend in order to make you single again so you'd be able to go out with him.

And when you accepted his offer of dinner, which came with a single white rose, a few months after the death of your longtime boyfriend, he did everything in his power to make you fall in love with him. Coriolanus was successful, you fell hard and fast for him. He was too charming not to let wiggle into your heart, and into your bed.

The president needed a first lady, so he proposed and married you. But it was a bit scandalous, considering you were his secretary. After a couple of negative articles in the media, well, Coriolanus got rid of the writers and made sure that the studios and printing presses in the Capitol (all of Panem actually) knew that if another foul word was printed about his relationship with his wife then he'd kill every single person in the media office.

Safe to say, only articles praising President Snow and First Lady Snow’s love and glamorous life hit the press after that.

And then, of course, came the subject of children. After discussing it, you stopped taking birth control. And you ended up getting pregnant right away.

Seeing you so round with his child gave Coriolanus joy. Gave him an ego boost because he was the one to plant his seed in you. You were carrying his child. His precious baby.

The baby was no longer looked at as an heir, but as a baby to love.

And it was all because of you.

“Coryo, I have my top list of baby names finished.” You told your husband, who was lounging in bed wearing only a pair of sleep pants.

Coryo watched as you sat across the room, placing his fountain pen back into its holder after writing down the final name on your baby name list.

After discussing it, you both decided to wait until the baby was born to discover the gender. You wanted to be surprised and Coriolanus just wanted you to be happy.

“Are you going to let me see it, my darling?” Your platinum blonde husband asked as you slowly stood up from his corner desk.

Placing a hand on your large belly, you smiled, “Of course I'm going to let you see it.”

Grabbing the list, you slowly walked over to the bed. After getting into bed, you handed the list to your husband. “Tell me what ones you like, Mister President.”

Coryo kissed your cheek and smiled. “Of course, First Lady Snow.”

He read over the list, only to discover that you had more boys' names than girls written down. After giving it some thought, he told you, “Cassian Xandros is perfect for our son. It's a strong name.” Mulling it over, he pointed to a name on the paper and announced, "Cersei sounds nice for a girl.”

“It's not nice, Coryo, it's beautiful.” You countered, pulling the list out of his hands. “Looks like the baby has a name; all we need to do is wait for it to come.”

The day your daughter Cersei Snow was born was the day that your husband decided to hate her.

The day didn't start out with him hating his baby girl.

No, it started with your water breaking and a trip to the hospital. Coriolanus canceled all of his meetings, briefings, and work for the day just to be by your side.

He was very supportive during your labor. Letting you hold his hand during painful contracts, smoothing your hair back away from your sweaty face with a damp rag, and buzzing the nurse multiple times for both ice chips and pain medication for you.

The nurses all gossiped amongst each other about how President Snow was the perfect doting husband and and father to be. That he'd make a very good father.

Little did they know.

Little did anyone know what would happen once the doctor came into the room and announced that it was time to start pushing.

Coriolanus was by your side as you pushed and pushed. With every push he noticed you were getting weaker and it worried him.

Looking between your weak, pale form, and the doctor that was sitting at the bottom of your bed, Coriolanus asked, “Dr. Wellock, my wife's growing weaker. Is there something you can do to get the baby out?”

“There's nothing to be worried about, President Snow. Labor’s a strenuous event; many first time mothers grow fatigue and can push for a while before the baby crowns.” The doctor told your husband, more or less blowing off his concern.

You were exhausted but determined to have your baby. Even tho you were feeling dizzy, you continued to bear down and push every time you were told to.

Then, when you felt that you didn't have any more strength coursing thru your body, you gave birth to your baby.

You saw Dr. Wellock hold up the baby and announce, “It's a girl.” Suddenly, your vision began to get fuzzy as you heard the doctor ask your husband, “President Snow, would you like to cut the cord?”

Coriolanus was about to answer whenever he saw you faint, paired with blood pooling around your legs and staining the bed.

“What's wrong with my wife?!” Coriolanus asked, fear filling him as the doctor quickly cut the baby's cord and tossed her to a waiting nurse. “Dr. Wellock, is my wife dying?!” Coriolanus asked in a panicked scream, while the nurse quickly cleaned the baby and wrapped her into a blanket.

“Your wife's hemorrhaging, President Snow.” Dr. Wellock told your husband, only to point to the nurse and tell her, “Give him the baby and get him out of here.”

So, the nurse dumped the baby in Coriolanus' arms and pushed him out of the door. Before the president could blink, the door was slammed shut I'm his face.

As Dr. Wellock and his nurse worked to staunch your bleeding; save your life, your husband stood outside of your room with your newborn baby girl in his arms.

Coriolanus looked down at the tiny baby wriggling and crying in his hold, only to look at the door of your room and realize that you're dying because of the thing in his arms.

Cersei’s what the two of you decided to name her, when she wasn't a danger. Wasn't the reason you're dying.

Coriolanus felt disgust and hatred for the newborn in his arms. He didn't want to hold her anymore. She was the reason why you're knear death right now.

So, your husband found a nurse to pawn the baby on.

Coriolanus swore to himself that he'd never touch that evil little creature ever again. That he'd never love her.

It didn't matter if you lived or died, he was going to hate your daughter until the day he died.

You didn't die in childbirth, but it was a close call. The doctor explained that you had bad hemorrhaging due to your uterus not contracting correctly after the birthing process, causing uncontrollable bleeding. You were given a blood transfusion, once Dr. Wellock managed to stop the bleeding, due to your blood pressure being too low after such a large blood loss.

You were out of it for days, but you survived.

You were happy to be alive and with your family. Coriolanus and Cersei.

But it didn't take long for you to notice that Coriolanus never picked up your daughter. He never held her, hell, Coryo never seemed too interested in her.

Unless it was for a photo op. Then he turned into the perfect hands on dad that would pose for pictures. But as soon as the cameras stop flashing, the president stops caring about his daughter.

You thought that Coriolanus would get over it; would come to accept your daughter in time. But…sadly…your daughter's first birthday is fastly approaching and your husband still doesn't seem interested in her, unless it's for a photo op.

It saddened you, knowing that Coriolanus was offish to Cersei because she wasn't the son he probably wanted to carry on the Snow name. You loved your daughter and you were sure that your Coryo loved her too, but was just disappointed that she wasn't the strong son he probably had his heart set on.

He did pick out a boy name right off the bat when you handed him your list of baby names last year.

Maybe if Coryo had a son to carry on the Snow name, he'd be happier in his role of fatherhood?

Coriolanus walked into the sunroom only to cringe when he saw you coddling Cersei. The damn little creature nearly murdered you during the birthing process, but you were holding her as she napped on you.

Goodness, there was a portable cradle in the room for a reason.

“She's nearly a year old, you shouldn't be letting her sleep on you like that.” Coriolanus told you, taking a seat at the small tea table. He never even tried to hide the disgust in his voice.

“There's nothing wrong with holding her, Coryo? She's my baby girl.” You responded, causing your husband to just shake his head while reaching for the teapot that was in the middle of the table.

“She's a toddler now, darling. She's not a baby anymore.” Coriolanus scoffed, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Do you want to have afternoon tea with me, or are you going to coddle Cersei all day?” He asked, grabbing a macaron and placing it onto the small plate that was in front of him.

“I'll have tea with you, Coryo.” You thinly smiled, only to rise from your spot on the sofa and place your daughter into her portable crib.

As you made your way over to the table, your husband fixed you a cup of tea and plated you macarons. When you sat down, you decided that now was the time to bring up the subject of having more children.

Little did you know, after your near death experience, Coriolanus got himself snipped. So…it was impossible for you to have any more children.

But he wasn't going to tell you that.

Reaching for your teacup, you told your husband,“Coryo, I think we should have another baby.”

“No.” Was Coriolanus’ quick and cold reply.

“But, we could have a son this time “ You pressed, knowing that your husband wanted a son. Wanted the Snow name to live on.

But you were wrong. Coriolanus didn't want a son to carry on the Snow name, he wanted you alive to be by his side. He loves you to the point of obsessive possession. The love Coriolanus has for you is all consuming, like a plague of locusts devouring an entire field of crops in District 11.

Coryo took a long sip of his tea, only to cut eyes with you over his teacup and firmly say, “I said no, Y/N.” placing his teacup down, he gave you the lame excuse of, “I'm a very busy man, my little dove. Being president takes much of my time away from my fatherly duties; we can only handle raising one child. More than one would be too much for us, considering you refuse a nanny.”

“I told you when I was pregnant with Cersei that I want to raise our kids. I don't want somebody else raising them, no matter how it might be easier considering your role in politics.”

“My role in politics?” Coriolanus chuckled, biting into his macaron. “I'm the President of Panem, that's more than just a role in politics.”

Sipping on your tea, you sighed, “Fine, Cersei’ll be an only child.”

Grabbing your hand in his, Coryo promised, “Our daughter will never want for anything. She'll be showered in a life of luxury.”

That wasn't true. Your daughter grew up wanting her father's love, but she never got it. Coriolanus was always so distant and cold with Cersei.

She hated him, but that was fine with your husband since he hated her right back.

You always thought that your husband resented your daughter for not being a son, for not being able to carrying on the might and noble Snow name.

But that wasn't the case at all.

Coriolanus Snow hated his daughter, Cersei, because you nearly died in childbirth with her. Nothing would every change that. He'd hate her til the day she died.

At least when your daughter died, it was bringing your beautiful granddaughter into the world.

A granddaughter Coryo named Celeste Snow, since your daughter was unwed at the time of her unexpected death.

Your husband was a better grandfather than he was a father. You thought that he might've felt guilty for being so distant and busy during Cersei’s childhood, that he decided to right his wrongs while you raised Celeste.

Little did you know, Coriolanus loved his granddaughter because she killed her mother in the birthing bed.

President Snow was a horrible, heartless man with a soul darker than a black hole. But at least he loved you and loved his granddaughter.

Too bad he hated his only child her entire life.

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#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coryo snow x reader #coryo x reader #coryo snow fanfiction #thg fanfiction

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vampsywrites · 9 months

Text

IV — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped, Making out, Mentions of blood, Arguments, Physical Fights, Protective Neteyam, Slight Jealous Neteyam

Word Count: 5k | AO3 LINK

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"Control your breath, like a soothing river finding its rhythm."

Today's lesson was a departure from the usual climbing sessions you've had the last months. Neteyam had proven himself more than capable of scaling the heights with ease, showcasing his prowess as a skilled and agile climber. It was time to advance his training further and introduce him to a new and essential skill: the art of breath control.

As Omatikaya, he lacked the enhanced lung capacity that your own physiology provided. Over generations, your people had adapted to the challenging conditions of Pandora's higher elevations, making your lungs incredibly efficient at utilizing the limited oxygen resources available. This biological disadvantage of his made it all the more crucial for Neteyam to learn proper techniques.

Sitting cross-legged opposite each other, knees touching, your hands gently pressed against his diaphragm and chest as you began the lesson.

"Close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose," you instructed softly. "Fill your lungs to their fullest capacity, and feel the air spreading to every corner, energizing your body."

Neteyam followed your guidance, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled deeply through his nose. His chest rose, and you could feel his abdomen expanding under your touch as he took in the breath. His inhale was steady but not as deep as you wanted it to be.

"Remember to ease your body," you pointed out gently. "Try again. I want you to hold that breath for a moment, just a beat longer than you're used to. Then release the air slowly through your mouth. Let it flow out like a gentle stream, not a gusty wind."

Neteyam complied. He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath through his nose, following your guidance carefully. His chest expanded further this time, and you could feel the tension in his body as he held his breath for a moment before exhaling slowly through his mouth.

"You are doing well," you beam.

Despite appearing as though you were focused on teaching Neteyam, your gaze occasionally shifted to the others around you. In the distance, Lo'ak, Tuk, and Kiri were having their own lessons, led by a skilled warrior-hunter from your clan. It seemed as though they were learning well, albeit still displaying moments of clumsiness.

These past few months, normalcy resettled itself in the Sully family rather quickly, like a piece of a puzzle that’s been jostled loose slotting seamlessly back into place.

Kiri, in particular, seemed to be in her element — lost in a world of her own. The girl had long wandered away from her group, traversing the slope of the rock with a skill that far surpassed her experience. She was completely absorbed in the breathtaking views the mountain provided and the wild flora that adorned its sides.

Tuk, on the other hand, was having a blast with a group of younger kids. They were energetically bouncing off the lower parts of the rock wall with their ropes, playing and laughing together. Their youthful enthusiasm was contagious, and it brought a nostalgic smile to your face, reminding you of your own childhood.

Lo'ak had also adapted smoothly, effortlessly climbing higher peaks with a few Na'vi your age. He appeared at ease, his initial apprehension towards the heights now gone as he engaged in friendly banter and conversations with your people.

“I think you’re just using this as an excuse to feel me up, syulang.”

Neteyam's voice draws your attention away, his calloused hands cupping over yours and pressing them flat against the planes of his chest and abdomen. His dark azure skin was smooth beneath your touch, the defined muscles firm and sculpted, evidence of his disciplined training and physical prowess as a warrior.

A cross frown danced on your lips as you retorted, "It is you who is placing my hands over your skin. I am just making sure you're learning properly. “

Neteyam's lips curled into a smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I don't see you removing them," he quipped, his fingers lightly brushing against the back of your hand.

With a shake of your head, you slap at his side of his ribs, eliciting a grunt of surprise from the man.

"Enough. Show me the form I taught," you instruct, shifting back into your role as his teacher.

Neteyam does his breathing exercises accordingly, and you watch with a keen eye, pleased to see his improved technique.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

"Yes," you nod approvingly, genuinely impressed, "that is good."

As the lesson continued to flow smoothly, you instinctively moved closer to Neteyam, wanting to better feel the rise and fall of his chest as he practiced his breathing. In response, Neteyam couldn't resist the impulse to pull at your arms, playfully coaxing you into his lap.

"Skxawng! " With a laugh, you surrendered and settled into his embrace.

Fronts firmly pressed against each other, the closeness between you felt comforting and familiar. It was like two halves of a whole coming together, bodies fitting together so naturally that it was as if they were meant to be in this position.

Neither of you made a move to break the embrace. There was no rush, no need to move on from this moment of connection. Instead, you found yourself cupping his face in your hands, a rare smile gracing your lips as you gazed down at him. Neteyam's fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, fiddling with the back of your woven chest piece, causing a delightful shiver to travel down your spine. The simple touch spoke volumes, conveying a level of intimacy that went beyond words.

"I am still so impressed at how fast you have learned," you whisper softly.

"I have a great teacher," Neteyam laughs, his tail coiling around your thigh in an affectionate manner. Mirroring his actions, your tail trails up his torso, exploring his rugged skin before wrapping itself around his forearm.

As your hands move to his sides, intending to trace comforting circles, you notice a sudden jerk from Neteyam, followed by a low hiss slipping from his lips. In an instant, worry floods your senses, and you draw away from him, giving him space.

"What is it?" you say in panic, your eyes quickly scanning his figure for any signs of distress. They land on small, bloodied scratch marks by his ribs, and realization washes over you.

"Ah," you grimace, a hint of shame in your voice as you hastily reach into your medicinal pouch, your fingers searching for a specific bottle. "I apologize. I did not realize my claws were digging into your skin."

Neteyam offers a reassuring smile, though you can tell that he isn't blaming you in the slightest. "It's alright," he says. "You are acting like I was just maimed. These are little scratches, nothing serious."

You appreciate his attempt to alleviate your concern, knowing that he is not blaming you in the slightest. Still, you find the bottle you were searching for and carefully apply the healing ointment to the scratch marks, your touch featherlight. Neteyam observes your hands move swiftly, appreciating the skill with which you handle the situation.

As Tsahìk, you were used to being gentle and careful with your touch, but there were moments when your physical attributes could unintentionally cause harm. At the tips of your slender fingers were rugged and curved structures resembling claws. This unique feature was a defining characteristic of your people, granting you a remarkable advantage in navigating challenging terrains with ease.

Once you finish applying the ointment, Neteyam takes ahold of your hands, dragging them up until they are eye-level. The warrior's touch is tender as he begins to trace his finger along the curve of your claws. His eyes study the intricate detailing, admiring the look of your unique appendages.

When relaxed, your fingers appeared deceptively normal, concealing the sharp daggers within. But with a simple flex of your hand, the claws emerged gracefully. During his lessons, you would usually keep them out, ready to demonstrate and assist him at any moment.

"I should have been more careful," you murmur, withdrawing your claws.

Neteyam shakes his head, his expression gentle and reassuring. "It's not your fault." He then holds your hands in his, his large palm practically engulfing yours. "Your baby hands did not cause much damage anyways."

In offense, you playfully slap his shoulder, your mouth dropping open in feigned shock. "I will have you know that these 'baby hands' have scaled mountains and traversed terrains you cannot begin to imagine!"

Neteyam raises an eyebrow, pretending to be unimpressed, but a mischievous grin tugs at his lips. "Oh, I am sure they have."

The carefree scene is abruptly interrupted as a shadow suddenly looms over you. Lifting your gaze, you find a familiar face twisted into a stern expression, the lines of displeasure etched across his edged features.

"Tserat," you spat the name out as if it were a poison lathered on your tongue, your disdain for him evident in the sharpness of your tone.

Throughout your life, this man had been a constant thorn in your side, always critical of your choices and quick to engage in arguments.

Among many, his vehement disapproval of your sudden engagement with the eldest Sully boy was no secret, and you were well aware that he had something to say about it now.

The Na'vi acknowledged you with a forced smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was a flicker of malice in his gaze as he shifted his focus to Neteyam, sizing up the warrior with a critical eye.

"Forest boy, I see you're enjoying your little lesson," Tserat quipped with a mocking tone. "Didn't know you needed such close instruction."

"We were just practicing some breathing techniques," Neteyam replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he maintained a remarkable composure despite the charged atmosphere. The venomous tone with which Tserat addressed him was not lost on the Omatikayan, but he chose not to acknowledge it — avoiding any unnecessary conflict.

And yet, Tserat's taunts only continued as he stepped closer, trying to provoke a reaction. "A lesson on breathing techniques?" he scoffed. "Those are only given to little children."

Your patience was wearing thin, and frustration seeped into your voice as you snapped back at him, "Why do you come to us? What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want to know why you are allowing him to seduce you like this," Tserat hissed, his glare intensifying. "This vrrtep—"

The derogatory word hit a nerve, and anger surged within you. Snarling in response, your tail whipped around angrily, "You speak to future Olo'eyktan, Tserat!"

"Future Olo'eyktan?" Tserat scoffed derisively. "The halfbreed can barely scale up a hill! A forest dweller like him wouldn't last a day with our mountain-born warriors, let alone dare to lead them."

"You would do well not to underestimate him," you spat back with a fiery edge, warning firm as you stood your ground, defending Neteyam. "He is embracing our ways with utmost respect and honor, more than some who were born into it."

"This outsider can learn, but his roots are deep in the forest. He will never truly understand the heart and soul of our people." Tserat remarked, face twisted in a hateful sneer. Then, his attention shifted to Neteyam, words dripping with scorn, "You should just go away!"

"Tserat—" you interject, but your words are cut short when a strong hand latches onto your elbow, shutting down the stream of your furious thoughts.

Neteyam steps closer, his hands now moving to gently grip at your waist, seeking to ground you.

"Leave it," he urges softly, trying to diffuse the tension. "Leave it, tìyawn."

You oblige, trying to shift your focus to Neteyam, desperately wanting to tune out Tserat's jeers, to let them fade into the background like distant echoes. But you knew him all too well; if he was anything, he was relentless.

"Stupid girl," the hunter hisses, his words laced with venom, as he whips his head back in agitation. "Always going head first. Never thinking!"

"Watch your tone," Neteyam growls under his breath, the low rumble vibrating through his chest like distant thunder, as his tail wraps itself around your hips protectively. Though his eyes remain fixed on Tserat, Neteyam's senses are on high alert, attuned to every nuance of your body language—from the subtle shift of your ears pinning back against your head to the coiling of your tail low by your feet.

At the sight of your clear discomfort, his other hand itches at the side of his hip where his blade was, instincts screaming for him to act.

"Hey!" The loud voice of Lo'ak booms across the clearing, announcing his arrival. His eyes narrows as he strides forward, each heavy step accompanied by the rhythmic swing of his braids and the clicking of beads.

"Fuck is your problem?" Lo'ak scowls, his tone laced with anger and disdain. He forcefully shoves Tserat back, nearly knocking the man off balance. The grin Tserat flashes at the Omatikaya in response is nothing but a display of teeth and pure viciousness.

"Look who's here, another half-bred freak," Tserat bites back as he pushes against Lo'ak's shoulders, attempting to regain some ground.

Kiri, appearing in a disheveled mess but fierce as ever, storms into the scene — anger lacing her features. Without hesitation, she raises her voice, directing her anger at Tserat.

"Leave us alone!" Kiri shouts as she takes hold of Lo'ak's arm, preventing her younger brother from making any rash moves. But before she can persuade Lo'ak to calm himself, he wrenches his arm free from her grasp.

Without a second thought, Lo'ak hurls himself forward, his fist colliding with Tserat's jaw in a sickening thud. The hunter's head snaps to the side, blood spewing from his split lip as he's left momentarily stunned. After coming to his senses, Tserat snarls, eyes filled with rage as he hits back at Lo'ak with an equal measure of force.

Both of them grapple each other, bodies locked in a struggle. In the chaos of the crossfire, Tserat unexpectedly knocks into you, catching you off guard. Your feet tangle, and you stumble backward, unable to maintain your balance. With a harsh thud, you crash onto the unforgiving dirt ground, pain flaring through your body.

"Tserat!" you shriek, a mixture of anger and pain lacing your voice.

Before you can fully gather your bearings, Neteyam is already in action. In one fluid and furious motion, he lunges forward and shoves Tserat away from his brother, the sheer force of the push sending the hunter hurtling back into the rugged rock face of the mountain. The impact reverberates through the air, a loud thud echoing in the clearing, followed by the rumble of loose stones tumbling down the slope.

Dust billows up around Tserat, momentarily obscuring his figure in a haze of grit and debris. As the cloud of dust clears, Tserat emerges, his eyes burning with a dangerous glint, his rage undeterred by the impact.

Neteyam's lips curl back into a snarl, fangs bared in an unmistakable display of aggression. A guttural hiss then erupts from his lips, a growl that emanates from deep within his chest. It's a primal warning, a clear message that he will not tolerate any further harm directed towards you or anyone else he cares about.

"You—!" Tserat, refusing to back down, meets Neteyam's hiss with one of his own, his fingers tightening around the hilt of the axe at his hip.

Neteyam's response is swift and decisive. He too arms himself, unsheathing his knife. Its sharp metallic sound rings out like a battle cry, slicing through the air with a deadly "shhlck!" The blade gleams in the dappled sunlight, its edge honed and ready for any threat that may come his way.

As the pain from the earlier shove courses through your body, you grit your teeth and rise to your feet, adrenaline fueling you. You rush to Neteyam's side, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath your trembling hand as you press it against his chest.

"Ma'Neteyam" you hush. "Mawey. It is alright. It is alright."

Tserat's eyes burn with envy and resentment as he watches the bond between you and Neteyam, a bond that he can't comprehend, much less accept. To him, it's a betrayal, a disloyalty to your people.

The way your touch traced the outlines of Neteyam's skin, the concern in your eyes, and the unwavering support you offered—it all but intensified his misplaced fury. The sight of your closeness with this outsider feels like a knife twisting in his heart, fueling his anger and pushing him to the brink of it all.

Driven by a whirlwind of emotions, Tserat lunged toward you both with a roar of anger. But before he could reach you, a commanding voice cut through the air like a thunderclap, halting him in his tracks.

"Ftang!"

As you turn around, you see your mother landing with a mighty thump, her ikran letting out a shrill, piercing cry. The elderly chief dismounted and approached your group with a stony expression, her fur coat still adorned with remnants of snow.

With every step, your mother shed away her usual warm and caring persona as Iumayi and slipped into the familiar face of Olo'eyktan. Ruthless, cold, Olo'eyktan.

"Why are you here, boy?" she hissed, her icy gaze remaining fixed on Tserat. He looked away, clearly disgruntled and tense under the weight of her scrutiny. ”You disobeyed direct orders! You are supposed to be on patrol! Instead, I see you stirring up a fight!"

Amidst her tirade, your mother's gaze locked onto yours. Her stern expression softened momentarily as Neteyam rushed to help you up, his touch tenderly tracing the outlines of your bruises. The sight of her child in distress stirred her maternal instincts, but she swiftly composed herself, tearing her gaze away from the display of care between you and Neteyam, refocusing on the matter at hand.

"Olo'eykte," Tserat gritted his teeth, his words now flowing in the Iuva'rian dialect, knowing that Neteyam couldn't understand it, "Can you not see this mockery of a union? Y/N was promised to me."

"It doesn't matter what you believe was promised," your mother stated resolutely, switching her language to match his. "Eywa did not will for your union to happen. The Great Mother guides us all, and sometimes our paths lead us in different directions."

As his ears pinned back, a hint of vulnerability flashed in Tserat's eyes. Frustration, resentment, and envy tangled together, gnawing at his heart.

The memory of your father's vision surged in his mind, a painful reminder of what could have been. He recalled how the Olo'eykte had approached him, believing it was he who was in the vision. "A mighty warrior, fierce and protective of his people," she had said, her eyes ablaze with belief in his destiny.

With those words echoing in his ears, Tserat had undergone rigorous training, honing his skills and preparing himself for the role he believed was his birthright. But all of that changed when the Sullys arrived. With Neteyam's emergence as Toruk Makto's son, everything shifted.

The vision, once meant for Tserat, was now directed toward Neteyam, a forest dweller with no ancestral ties to the clan. The mantle of leadership, which he had longed for and devoted himself to, was abruptly snatched away, as if it had never truly been within his grasp.

"Everything is changing," Tserat spat out, hurt etched across his features. "This family brings destruction and war wherever they go. What's to say they won't bring it here?"

"This warrior," Tserat turned to look at Neteyam, his expression brimming with disdain."—does not even know how to breathe our air properly. And you want him to lead us?"

"This is not the time or place for a challenge," Iumayi scorns. "If you believe yourself more worthy to lead, you will have your opportunity to prove it in a ritual battle after he completes the coming of age ceremony."

Tserat ran his tongue over his lips, his emotions carefully hidden behind a neutral mask. With a sigh, he averted his gaze, locking onto the ground, refusing to make eye contact with the chief.

The tension in the air was palpable as the confrontation reached its conclusion. Tserat eventually turned and left, his departure marked by one last glowering look directed Neteyam's way.

Neteyam, still holding you close, sensed the lingering unease and decided it was best to move away from the scene. With one arm wrapped protectively around you, he bid a goodbye to your mother and led you toward Seze.

The Omatikayan carefully lifted you up and secured you onto her back, ensuring your safety as he climbed on behind you.

"Irayo," you whisper. Neteyam's strong arms encircled you, and you leaned back, resting against him

"Kea tìkin," Neteyam hums.

Neteyam had led you to a secluded green clearing hidden deep in the heart of the valley. The tall, ancient trees stood as protective guardians, shielding you both from the prying eyes of the outside world. The rustling leaves and the distant songs of wind created a calming atmosphere, offering a private haven for you and Neteyam to grapple with the emotions that had been swirling between you.

Approaching the dense thicket of trees that hovered over the peak, your steps faltered when Neteyam's rough fingers wrapped around your elbow, gently pulling you back. His hand then rested softly on your hip, thumb tracing soothing circles on your striped skin.

The weight of moodiness still clung to you like a stubborn fog, but his touch and tender words began to penetrate that cloud, slowly lifting the veil of uncertainty that had settled.

"What's wrong? Talk to me, baby," Neteyam murmured, the foreign English endearment slipping off his accented tongue as smooth as the cascading waters of a tranquil stream.

Despite his plea, your lips were sealed shut, teeth biting down on the plump flesh, eyes refusing to look away from the blooming purple bruises on your skin. Faintly, you felt a burning sensation building up on your waterline, an all-too-familiar sign of tears threatening to spill over. It was an emotion you had long tried to suppress over the years, but the events of the day had taken their toll on your strength.

"Sweet girl," Neteyam soothed, his thumb pressing onto your lips and gently easing it away from your fangs. He then reached out to brush a reassuring hand against your cheek, guiding your watery gaze to meet his. The sight of your unshed tears pierced through him like a spear, striking a chord deep within his heart.

"Tserat is a fool," you drew in a shaky breath, the frustration evident in your voice. "Stubborn. Resistant to change!"

"I saw," he acknowledged with a low chuckle, but his expression softened with understanding. "People like him hold on to old ways out of fear. But change is the natural course of life. Do not worry, they will come to understand soon. Give them time."

Neteyam then paused, his eyes taking you in, a rugged hand running up your back in a comforting gesture. The forest around you seemed to grow quieter. "You two seemed to know each other…"

You nodded, a mix of emotions welling up inside you as memories of the past flooded back. "Yes," you replied, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "We were once very close. Me and him were promised."

"Oh," Neteyam breathed out, his voice tinged with a deep, rich green envy that simmered just below the surface. The intensity in his eyes blazed, and a hint of possessiveness seeped into his tone.

His hand on your waist tightened slightly, drawing you closer to him, and you willingly leaned into his embrace, finding comfort in his protective hold.

The lithe form of his tail swished from side to side, revealing the restlessness he felt, while his eyes remained fixed on yours, guarded yet filled with a yearning for understanding. You could tell the man before you bled with questions, but he was treading carefully, respectful of your boundaries and not wanting to intrude.

It was something you had noticed over the past few months spent together. Neteyam, a warrior at heart, was skilled at concealing his emotions. He had a way of pushing down his feelings, riding out pain - both emotional and physical with a stoic determination until they dissipated. His strength and resilience were admirable, and you respected his ability to handle difficult situations without faltering.

But as the days turned into weeks and then months, a part of you longed to see more of his vulnerability, to understand the layers beneath his tough exterior. You wanted to know the man beyond the warrior, the man behind the title of future Olo'eyktan, the person he was when he let his guard down.

In moments of quiet intimacy like this, you caught glimpses of tenderness in him, emotions he carefully kept in check. It made you feel that you were so close to understanding him on a deeper level, yet there was still a distance that kept you from fully unraveling the complexities of his heart.

"I said once," you reiterated gently, wanting him to know that the past was merely a stepping stone that led you to him. "I did not go through with the ceremony."

His grip on your waist softened, and he pulled you even closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. It felt as if the world around you had melted away, leaving just the two of you in that secluded green clearing.

"Why did you not?" Neteyam's question hung in the air like a delicate thread, his voice barely above a whisper, brimming with vulnerability.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the topic of conversation causing your heart to race. The freckles upon his nose and forehead caught the golden rays of the setting sun, making him look even more mesmerizing as his eyes languidly traced your face.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you found the strength to answer honestly. "I did not want him," you stated firmly, making it clear that your heart had never truly belonged to Tserat.

Ears pulled flat back, he stepped closer and found his hand reaching out to take a hold of his your hip. His gaze was dark, untamed like the forest as flickers of emotion flashed across the specs of gold, brown and green in his eyes. The tension between you and him thickened, fueled by a potent mix of jealousy, desire, and the simmering anger from the confrontation.

"And who do you want?" Neteyam's voice was a husky murmur, tinged with longing. He searched your eyes for an answer, almost as if he feared what would come out of your lips.

And you knew that this was the moment of truth, where your confession could either bring you closer or drive you apart.

In the past few months, both of you had danced around the touches of affection, tiptoeing around the unspoken feelings that had quietly but intensely grown between you. On the surface, it seemed as if you were merely fulfilling your duties, following the paths arranged for you. But beneath it all, there was something deeper, a bond that had become undeniable.

Standing before Neteyam, you could feel the tremor in his touch, the unspoken fear of rejection. But there was also a glimmer of hope shimmering in those golden pools, a belief that maybe, just maybe, you would choose him.

Without skipping a beat, you looked up into his eyes, your own gaze unwavering. "You."

"I want you, Neteyam."

Neteyam felt his heart leap to his throat at your words, desire chipping away at was left of the walls he had built up. His grip on you tightened and he looked into your eyes, seeking permission for what he was about to do, gaze gliding down to your lips.

Without words, you both knew what you wanted, what you needed. You understood the unspoken plea in his eyes and nodded, granting him permission to close the distance between you.

Neteyam's hand moved from your hip to your lower back, pulling you closer as he drew you into a deep kiss. Your fingers threaded through his dark hair, and you felt the roughness of his braids against your skin. The taste of him was intoxicating, a blend of earthy warmth and a hint of something uniquely him.

"I want you too," he breathed out against your lips, attempting to pull you even closer, molding his body onto yours. "More than anything."

Minutes pass and the intensity of your passionate kiss gradually subsided. Finally, you both drew away, finding yourselves breathless yet exhilarated. The rush of emotions still coursed through your veins, leaving you both trembling with the weight of the moment.

Neteyam's forehead pressed against yours, his warm breath mingling with yours as you gazed into each other's eyes, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

"I see you," you finally gasped out, your voice hitching. Those three simple words carried the weight of all your feelings, a declaration of your understanding and acceptance of him, flaws and all.

Neteyam froze, his breath catching in his throat. The exhale from his lips was entirely broken, as if you had stolen his last remaining breath from his lungs. Slowly, he found himself giving in to the overwhelming rush of emotions, the walls he had built over years finally falling down in ruins.

"I see you," Neteyam returned, accent thick, voice breathless and guttural. He leaned in to kiss you once more, sealing his emotions with the tender touch of his lips against yours. Those three words were repeated over and over against your lips, a desperate show of his affections.

Neteyam bared everything he had inside, his deepest desires, fears, and dreams, pouring his heart before you like a crimson offering as he hoped beyond hope that you would handle it with the utmost care.

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

the relationship is established! now its time to plan on how to destroy it. /hj

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bitch-for-bo · 5 months

Text

The Better Brother (artist! Matsukawa x chubby fem reader) 18+

miss me? ;)

NSFW; MINORS GTF OUTTA HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!

TW: you're a cheater BUT you only cheat on a cheater asshole AND we support women's wrongs :))))

summary: Your fiancé leaves you across the ocean to sort out this whole 'wedding' thing all by yourself. Well.... lets just say that YOU get sorted out instead ;).

(((((((((loosely based on the movie Moonstruck (heavily recommend!!!!))))))))))

“Married?....... You want to get married?......to me?”

You wondered what you looked like at the moment, you wondered if your eyes were bugging out of your head or if your jaw looked completely locked in its unhinged position.

It definitely felt like they were.

It felt like your whole world had just come crashing down around you. All because of those 4 little words.

“Why not? You’ve taken care of me for the last 5 years, I want to take care of each other for the rest of our lives.”

…..this wasn’t a part of your plan.

You didn’t quite know what your life plan was…. But it definitely wasn’t this.

“Why now?” you whisper, noticing that for every second you didn’t answer your boyfriend with an ecstatic yes, another restaurant patron's eyes locked onto you. You could feel your face growing hot with embarrassment and yet you still couldn’t blindly accept this proposal, not without knowing why.

“Why not now?” he asked, taking your hands into his. You could see the sweat starting to form on his hairline, the anxiety of public rejection becoming apparent in his tone as you worked to avoid his gaze.

Why not now?

Does he not hear himself? Why not now?

“I just-” you stuttered out, taking your hands back into your own laps, wiping the moisture off your palms against your thighs.

“-Just hear me out!” He cut you off, perhaps a bit too loudly as well, seeing as the crowd of nosy spectators seemed to be inconspicuously growing by the second. He looked frazzled, in fact, this might have been the most affected that you’d ever seen him. Usually, he was the cool-headed one, the blasé, jaded businessman. But now he sat, his voice raising with each word, face red with humiliation. He looked panicked, far too panicked for the situation.

“My mother…” He started, clearing his throat, trying to collect himself before he could make a fool of himself in public.

Ahh… his mother

you thought….. That was obviously why he was so panicked. That was why he was asking you this all of the sudden.

His mother was pressuring him.

Well, the joke is on him, you’re not gonna give in just because of the wishes of his mother.

“....My mother is dying.”

If your eyes weren’t bulging out of your head before, they definitely were now.

“w-What- when?..... Oh god….” you gasped, the guilt automatically washing over you as you watched your partner's face melt into worry, his brows knitting together as you brought your hands back onto the table to envelope his.

“They called me this morning…. They asked me if I could fly back home to….. ya know?”

“Of course..” you nodded, “you need to be with her right now…. Have you booked your flight yet? Should I try to book it now?”

Now listen…. It was a serious situation. And a horrible one at that, and you were 100% devoted to getting your partner home to his dying mother. But you couldn’t deny that you were also trying to steer the conversation back away from marriage.

But he wasn’t going to let you forget.

“Darling please….” he sighed, squeezing your hands in his, “my mother, she once told me that all she wants in this world… all she wants… is to see me happy… to see me married. And I want you to marry me.”

“God….” you sighed “I just….. You’re sure you want me?...”

He nods, holding your gaze.

It felt like his eyes were melting into your face. And if that wasn’t bad enough, there were still a good handful of people burning holes into your back. They were all expecting an answer.

Not only that, they were expecting a particular answer. An answer you weren’t sure that you were ready to give.

But for god's sake, the man’s mother was dying, and he pretty much made it sound like her dying wish was for her son to marry. If you said no now you’d be a monster.

Against your better judgment, you glanced around the restaurant, your eyes meeting the eager gazes of not only fellow patrons but staff as well. God, was that a tray of champagne waiting??

After scanning the room, your eyes finally made it back to the man who just asked you to marry him.

“Yes.” you whispered, offering him a small, unsure smile.

A smile that he returned tenfold, announcing to the restaurant, “she said yes!” prompting applause and congratulatory champagne.

He slipped the ring onto your finger, kissing your hands as you sat and watched him with that same small smile on your face.

“Now of course, I’ll have to fly out to my mother, but we should get married as soon as possible.” He said, dropping your hands to take a long drink of champagne. “I trust you want to organize the wedding?”

So much was happening, staff was swarming around you, pouring drinks and grabbing your hand to inspect the ring, and the restaurant chatter had resumed, and somehow along the way a violinist had been called in to serenade you as well.

You felt like your brain was being torn into 5 different pieces, all equally painful and all equally taxing.

You couldn’t even answer his question before he’d moved on in the conversation, rambling about flight times, how long he’d be staying, and who was going to fill in for him at work.

You were definitely overstimulated by the complete chaos surrounding you, but you told yourself it would be okay, that you could just zone out until he eventually tired and decided to drag the both of you home for the night.

Were you ready to get married? Hell no! But what were you supposed to do?

God, what would your parents say about this? Marrying a man nearly 20 years your senior. Did you love him? Of course!

….well…..maybe…… you definitely felt a strong connection with him……. so then what was this dread?

It was just anxiety. It had to be. After all, you had never planned to get married in the first place. You’d seen one too many marriages fail, one too many couples grow to hate each other and you’d sworn it off.

It wasn’t that you hated marriage in particular, you’d seen plenty of happily married people, you suppose it was just the fact that in your mind, it was impossible for you to be one of those happily married people.

You’d never been good at relationships. In fact, your current relationship had been eerily long. Usually, something would’ve happened by now. You would’ve walked in on him cheating, or you would’ve woken up to all of his stuff gone. But that hadn’t happened yet.

So maybe it was love, you told yourself. Maybe he was the love of your life and you were ready to get married.

After all, 5 years is a crazy long time, right?

Far too long to stay with a man you didn’t love……right?

What had you gotten yourself into?

Within the week, your now fiance had booked a flight out to his home city, leaving you behind with a long wedding to-do list.

On the positive side, after your initial dread spiral, you were feeling much better. You reminded yourself that everything happened for a reason and that there was no reason that your marriage couldn’t be any less fulfilling than the last five years had been.

You reminded yourself that your partner had stuck with you for five years, that kind of stuff doesn’t just happen to people who aren’t ready for marriage.

Anyways, you felt much better….. Happy even.

Your parents definitely could’ve taken the news of you marrying an older man…… better….. But at the end of the day, they admitted that as long as you were happy… they were too.

In all honesty, you think that they were mostly just relieved that you found someone to marry you.

Your family would never say it out loud, but you often thought that none of them believed you would ever find someone to be with. Deep down you felt like your parents always betted on your siblings for things like inlaws and grandchildren.

And you couldn’t blame them necessarily. You weren’t the conventional definition of beauty (a fact that all of your exes had brought to your attention sooner or later) and you definitely didn’t have low standards.

This meant that you forever lived in a limbo of never being “good enough” or “pretty enough” but never being willing to settle. So where did that leave you?

Alone.

Alone until you found your fiance.

To be honest, it was rough at first. He was this bigshot investor that was only slightly younger than your father and for some reason, he’d taken an interest in you, his (used to be) intern.

At first, you ignored the attention, young and uncomfortable with the idea that an older man could find you desirable. In your field, you were used to all of the finance bros, who wanted you in the bedroom but never in public.

But slowly, as he managed to worm his way into your daily schedule, you found yourself warming up to him. He’d walk past your desk each day, sometimes leaving you a coffee with a little winking face drawn on the side, sometimes he would smooze as you took the elevator with him, but most of the time it was him just making small comments along the lines of “you take care of me so well,” or “I’m lucky to have you looking out for me” which slowly transitioned into “i love the way you take care of me” and “am I lucky enough to take you to dinner”

Before you knew it, five years had passed. And while you’d technically never defined your relationship in words, or moved in with each other, or even met each other's families, you still thought of yourselves as dating…. well……engaged now.

You looked down at the to-do list that sat on the cafe table. Most of it was fairly straightforward, arrange the flowers, get the caterer, cake-tasting, wine-tasting, the list went on.

The one bullet point on the list that definitely wasn’t straightforward was the last one.

Invite Matsukawa

Apparently, your beloved fiance had an estranged brother. A younger brother whom he hadn’t spoken to for the last 10 years.

An estranged brother that you were in charge of tracking down and inviting to your wedding.

What could possibly go wrong?

He was a fucking mortician.

That's what could go wrong.

Your fiance had given you a little bit of background on his brother, and from the sounds of it, he seemed to be a fairly normal person. But come on…. How many normal people were morticians?

But nevertheless, you had told your fiance that you would do it. You would do it so that he could reunite with his brother and restore their relationship. Would it be a little weird for you? Yes. But it seemed that recently you’d been kicked out of your comfort zone, and apparently weren’t allowed back in.

So you’d looked up the address to the funeral home Matsukawa worked at, and decided that your goal for the day was to somehow convince him to come to his brother’s wedding.

Now all you had to do was work up the nerve to go in and actually talk to him.

You glanced out of the cafe’s window at the funeral home.

It’s not like it was overwhelmingly off-putting. It looked crisp and clean, a great place to bring your recently lost loved one……. But that didn’t mean it didn’t still give you the heebie-jeebies.

You looked back down at your coffee. There was probably only a sip or two left, which meant that you could no longer put this off.

Hesitantly, you left the coffee shop, holding your almost empty coffee cup as a shield of sorts as you approached the front doors of the funeral home.

You opened the doors.

It was quiet.

As to be expected.

You walked up to the empty reception desk, inspecting it for some kind of bell or button to alert someone of your arrival, but much to your dismay there was no such thing.

You looked around you, there wasn’t much to see in the lobby area, an expensive-looking rug, a nice velvet-covered loveseat, and a couple of potted plants…. Other than that there really wasn’t-

“-Fucking christ!” you gasped, jumping at the sight of a man's disembodied head peering through an open cut out in the wall.

You clutched your chest, trying to recover as he simply watched you, not even bothering to move. All the man did was grin at you, having the audacity to chuckle at your display of fright.

“Shit…” you breathed, turning your back to the man while trying to regain the quickly diminishing confidence that you had, you know, the confidence that was barely there to begin with.

A couple of deep breaths later, you decided that you felt stable enough to face the mystery man again. Now that the initial surprise/fear had passed, only dread and a smidge of anger remained.

Like, who the fuck would do that?? For all they know, you were a prospecting customer who’d just lost a loved one and you were greeted with the harrowing sight of a man’s head in a window.

You turned around, not sure if you should demand an apology, or issue one, when you were greeted with the sight of perhaps the prettiest man you’d ever seen.

Yes, he was the same weird man that had literally just pretended to be a severed head, but hey… first impressions were rough.

You opened your mouth to speak, still unsure of what to say, but thankfully, he spoke first.

“Sorry about that, it’s never gone over well and yet I keep trying.”

Wow his voice was deep, but not deep like ‘trying to be deep’ or even like ‘just woke up deep’ it was just… deep.

It was nice.

You were engaged.

Why was that so hard to remember?

You let out a small laugh before clearing your throat.

“Well, it was… interesting, I’ll give you that.”

He gave you another lopsided grin, but said nothing, forcing you to try and remember why you walked into the building in the first place.

Fiance’s brother. Right.

“Anyways, I’m here today because I’m looking for Maksukawa, is he working today?”

“Is something wrong” he asked, a much more acceptable mask of professionalism slipping over his features. You shifted from heel to heel, wondering if you should really tell this man about your fiance’s private family life.

“Nope, just here to talk with him.” you settled on that. Surely you wouldn't be asked for more.

“How do you know him?”

Of fucking course you’d be asked for more. Because having things go your way is just too much to ask.

“Oh, I’m just his brother’s fiance.” you said, trying to keep your voice light and unworried.

But as soon as you said it, the man’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw (which was gorgeously sharp) became set.

And while that reaction was a little weird, and definitely raised a little suspicion, you decided to ignore it and press forward.

“You see, I’m here to invite him to the wedding on behalf of my fiance.” You took a step closer to the desk that the man had retreated behind as you said it, trying your best to keep your shoulders squared and the pep in your step.

“He’s not interested.” the man, who had been nothing if not good-natured up till now, turned away, affirming your suspicions.

“You’re Matsukawa aren’t you?”

He ignored you and instead turned to head back through a set of swinging doors behind him, leaving you slack jawed and speechless.

Your partner had warned you of his brother’s standoffishness, but when you’d asked about why they hadn’t talked in 10 years, you received no clear answer. But judging by the way Matsukawa just left you in the dust, something big must’ve happened.

Nevertheless, you weren’t one to step down from a fight, no matter how scared or uncomfortable you were, so you followed him through the back doors into a little room with lockers lining the wall.

“I’m right, right? You’re Matsukawa?”

His back was facing you as he closed the door to his locker, his shoulders were definitely tensed but not nearly as much as one would expect considering the fact you were definitely not allowed back here, a rule which you rudely defied.

“My friends call me Issei.”

“Okay Issei, I’m here to-”

He turned towards you, his eyes flicking over your body once, before cutting you off.

“I said my friends, not some kid who's marrying my bastard brother.”

Once again, your jaw dropped. What the fuck was it about these brothers making you at a complete loss for words?

“Excuse me?”

Seriously, did their mother not raise them properly?

Their mother. That’s why you were there. Their mother is dying and her dying wish was for her son to be married.

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing before you lost your nerve.

“Listen, I’m just here to invite you to the wedding. I’m not sure what went down between you and your brother, but I do know that he wants you at our wedding. Anyways, he’s family and family forgives each other, so please just take this.”

You held out the RSVP invitation to Issei, you set your jaw firmly and squared yourself in front of him, showing him that you wouldn’t tuck your tail and run.

He looked you up and down again. You tried not to focus on how his gaze made your stomach flip and your ears burn.

“How old are you?” He asked, his eyes landing on the invitation pinched between your prettily manicured fingers.

“Does it matter?”

Issei’s eyes traveled up your wrist to your arm, then shoulder, then neck, before finally landing on your face. He grinned at the look on your face, because while it was clear you were trying to keep a fire in your eyes, you were just about as intimidating as a puppy.

“It does.”

“Can I ask why?”

Issei took a step forward, narrowing the distance between the two of you until there was only a couple of inches.

“Because I know how old my brother is, and I wanna know why a girl who was in diapers when he was joining a frat is standing in front of me, saying she’s his fiance.”

Your eyes, which had been locked on his, standing your ground, flicked to the ground.

“So what is it, the money? The house? Did he accidentally knock you up? Let me guess, he’s your boss and you just wanted to stay his favorite, you didn’t even mean to get that drunk at the company party. Is that it? Or did you-”

Before you knew what was happening, you’d already reached your hand between the two of you and slapped Issei across the face.

For the first time since you’d met him, that stupid grin was gone, and in its place a look of surprise. You spoke before he could.

“Listen here,” you said in a low tone, trying to keep your voice from shaking due to the adrenaline flooding through your body,

“You don’t know me. You’ve never met me, never talked to me, and you sure as hell have never gotten close enough for me to disclose jack shit to you, much less how I met and got involved with your brother. I get that you guys don’t like each other, but that is no fucking reason to get pissy with me. In fact, how dare you talk about me like that? It doesn’t matter if your brother wronged you a thousand times over, you have no right to talk to me in that disgusting manner.”

You stopped to take a breath, closing your eyes so that you wouldn’t see Issei and chicken out of your speech.

“Now. I’m leaving, and I’m leaving you with the invitation to this stupid fucking wedding. You can come or not, I don’t care. Goodbye.”

Before he could respond you turned on your heel and fled back through the set of double doors, back into the safety of the main lobby. Once you were on the street again, you let yourself slow down, releasing the breath you’d been subconsciously holding.

You couldn’t believe that you’d done that, it was almost like you’d blacked out. You really couldn't even remember what you’d said. Oh god, hopefully you didn’t say anything too rash.

Even if Issei deserved it, he was your partner’s brother…..

….maybe you were too harsh.

You scolded yourself as you walked down the street, trying as best as you could not to look like a crazy person, muttering to yourself as you made your way back to your apartment.

The guilt and worry of what you’d said and how you’d behaved was eating at you. Did Issei deserve to be slapped? Yes! 100 fucking percent he deserved it.

But still….

If he hated his brother before you’d done that, he most definitely hated him even more now.

Maybe, you thought as you laid down to sleep, you could try and go by the funeral home tomorrow to smooth things over.

Maybe you could use the stress of the wedding as an excuse to why you’d slapped him, yeah…that was a good idea.

…or at least the best idea you had.

And while you tossed and turned with guilt over slapping your fiance's younger, very good-looking brother, Issei was in a similar boat.

Well… kind of.

He didn’t necessarily feel guilty over how he treated you. He was just being honest, there was no way in hell he’d attend his lousy brother’s wedding, that bastard could apologize a thousand times over for what he’d done and Issei still wouldn’t forgive him.

No, what he did feel guilty about though is the fact that he pretty much blew any chance he had of seeing you again.

If Issei was a better person he’d feel guilty about his feelings for you, fortunately he never claimed to be one.

He’d given up on sleeping hours ago, the only thing that closing his eyes got him was visions of you. The look on your face when you scolded him, the sting that your palm had left against his jaw.

And christ your body….

If Issei had believed in God, you were definitely her.

He could drown in you if you’d only let him.

So without any other way to soothe himself or fall asleep, he drank. A little too much if he’s being honest. So much that he didn’t even care when his neighbors slammed on his walls to tell him to turn his records down.

He preferred to sulk this way. That was what he was doing, sulking over a beautiful woman that he’d never see again, over a woman who was going to marry his brother, his enemy.

And as the night went on, the bottle of booze in his hand emptied further, until he nearly saw double as he worked on anything to distract himself from thoughts of you.

Perhaps when he said you were God he meant the opposite, God could never plague him like you were. You were a devil, a devil committed to his devil brother…. The thought made him feel a little better. Not much of course.

He eventually called into work, leaving some half-ass excuse on their answering machine as to why he wouldn’t be coming in that day, before dragging himself to bed. He was drunk enough to sleep, but not drunk enough to escape dreams of you.

The next morning, bright and early, you stood outside of the funeral home with two fresh coffees in hand and an optimistic smile on your face. Today was the day that you would convince Issei to come to the wedding if it was the last thing you did.

To be honest, you were completely ready to give up and tell your fiance that his brother had died some terrible death within the last 10 years, but as soon as you’d heard his voice over the phone, asking if you’d been able to convince Issei yet, you chickened out of it.

You didn’t know if you were just feeling extra sentimental or if it was your fiance whining about how now that his mother is dying, family is the most important thing, but you now stood on the sidewalk in front of Issei’s workplace with a renewed vigor and immovable stubbornness.

You walked into the building, scanning the lobby, making sure that Issei wasn’t pretending to be a floating head again.

You frowned at the sight of an empty lobby, walking slowly up to the desk as if you were expecting the gorgeous mortician to jump out at you at any moment.

“Hello?” you called out, trying to crane your neck to look through the small windows of the double set of doors that you’d been through yesterday.

“Hi there!” you heard a new voice come from a different direction.

When you turned your head, you were slightly disappointed to find an unfamiliar young woman, dressed in black, smiling as she walked behind the desk to help you.

“Hello,” you replied, trying to hide your disappointment with a small smile, “I’m looking for Matsukawa, is he here?”

“He actually called in sick today, I’m sorry.”

Your shoulders must’ve sagged a little because the woman looked at you curiously, her eyebrow raising.

“Can I ask why you’re asking for him?”

“Oh it’s nothing,” you sighed, “I’m just engaged to his brother and I’m supposed to convince him to come to the wedding. We got off on the wrong foot yesterday so I thought I’d swing by today and try again.”

The look of shock on the woman’s face was enough to make you straighten your back and hold your coffee a little closer to your body. She must’ve noticed your discomfort as she quickly apologized.

“Sorry, I just totally didn’t expect that to be the reason…. I feel really bad telling you this, but I don’t think you should waste any time on that. Issei hates his brother.”

So Issei’s coworker knows what happened but you don’t? Was your fiance trying to set you up for failure???

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

A look came over the woman’s face, that look that says ‘I’m not supposed to be talking about this, but I absolutely LOVE talking about it’. She leaned over the counter, gesturing you to lean in closer.

“Ten years ago, Issei was engaged to this woman, beautiful girl, a real pretty lady, they’d met in school and decided to get married young so they could start having kids. So one day, Issei gets off work a little early, so he decides to surprise her at her place, and what does he find when he gets there? His brother, buck-naked in her bed.”

“No!” you gasped, horrified at the image of your fiance home-wrecking his brother.

“Yes! So Issei’s pissed right? Screaming and throwing shit everywhere, his fiance’s crying, the neighbors are yelling, and what does his brother do?”

The look of suspense on your face was prominent enough to make the woman behind the desk grin as she paused in dramatic effect.

“He tells Issei that it’s been going on for months and that they’re running off together.”

“What?” you scoff, leaning back away from the woman in awe.

You couldn’t believe what you’d heard. Is that really the kind of man you were about to marry?

“Worst part about it, is that since Issei’s so much younger than his brother, the girl wasn’t any older than 20 while Issei’s brother was nearly thirty six!”

“So what happened?” You asked, feeling slightly faint at the overwhelming amount of information you’d received.

“Nothing, Issei was heart broken, his brother ran off with his girl and there was nothing he could do about it. That’s why they haven't talked in 10 years. And from the sound of it, the whole family took the brother’s side so now Issei doesn't talk to them either.”

You wondered if you looked like a gaping fish at the moment as you grappled with yourself, trying to find words to say. You couldn't believe that your fiance could do something so heinous.

He stole the love of his brother’s life, and obviously it never went further than an affair because he’d never even mentioned his ex to you.

Of course, now that you thought about it, he didn’t mention much of anything to you.

The woman must’ve seen the turmoil on your face and taken pity on you because she reached under the desk and pulled a sticky pad and pen out and started jotting things down.

“Anyways, I’m just gonna give you his address, it’s not too far from here. Swing by if you're brave enough, but now that you know the history, you can’t blame him if he doesn’t wanna talk to you.”

You nodded and thanked her as she handed you the sticky note.

“Now that I know, the only thing I feel is guilty about how I treated him yesterday.” you looked up at the woman, offering a grateful smile “thank you for telling me.”

She waved you off as you began leaving the lobby, “Don’t mention it, I hope everything works out the way it should!”

With one last thank you, you left the funeral home and started off down the street towards Issei’s apartment. With the newfound knowledge of the brother’s history you now realized that asking Issei to come to the wedding was like asking him to reopen old wounds.

And hell, with what you just found out you weren’t sure you wanted to marry this guy anymore. You know what they say, once a cheater, always a cheater. Could you really trust that he hadn’t done the exact same to you in the last five years?

Anyways, the very least you could do now was apologize to Issei and hope that the two of you could treat this like water under the bridge.

So that’s where you’d gotten to where you were. Sitting at his kitchen table as you watched him nurse his hangover with the coffee you brought him and a plate of breakfast that you’d cooked for him.

You watched as he poked at the eggs with his fork.

“Sorry, I didn’t know how you liked them.” you apologized, your voice coming out much squeakier than indentinded. But based on the fact that you were sitting across from perhaps the most gorgeous man you’d ever met who still had bed head and was only sporting a loose fitting pair of black sweatpants, you’d say you were doing pretty good at keeping your voice calm.

“No, they’re good… thank you..” Issei muttered, keeping his eyes on his plate. He couldn’t look up at you right now.

The first thing he’d woken up to this morning was you knocking on his door, and normally that wouldn't have been so bad. In fact, he could think of few things better than the sight of a pretty girl waiting for him on his doorstep. The only reason he didn’t enjoy your early morning visit was because it gave him no time to take care of his raging morning wood, which was significantly worse than usual thanks to you being the star of his dreams the night before.

He glanced up from his plate, trying to sneak a glance at you as you concerned yourself with the view from his kitchen window.

You were even more stunning in the morning light, the sun outlining the soft curve of your chin as you smiled at the city's skyline.

He looked back down at his breakfast, not nearly as appetizing as the sight sitting across from him.

“Anyways,” you said, breaking the silence as you watched him near the end of his breakfast, clearing the plate of the last slice of toast. “I wanted to come by and apologize for how I acted yesterday, I was-”

Before you could even finish the apology, he held a hand up to stop you.

“Don’t even mention it, I was out of line.”

You frowned as he got up to put his plate in the sink behind him.

“Okay….” you said, unsure of how to approach the next topic, “well, I also wanted to talk to you about the wedding,”

As soon as the word ‘wedding’ came out of your mouth you saw his (very nicely built) back tense. So you rushed to finish the sentence as fast as you could to prevent him from completely shutting you out.

“But-more-importantly-I-wanted-to-apologize-for-what-your-brother-did-to-you…”

“What?”

You saw the tick in his jaw and the stern look on his face as he turned towards you. You couldn't help but shrink in on yourself a little, this was the first time you’d seen him as anything but aloof, and to say it was… intimidating… was an understatement.

Hot?.... Yes definitely… but also very intimidating.

“Why would you apologize for that?”

It was a fair question, especially considering that you were also starting to have the sneaking suspicion that you were a victim of infidelity as well. Just because you never caught it, doesn’t mean it never happened.

“I just-”

“-You know what,” he cut you off, holding a palm up to you, “why don’t you let me get cleaned up a little and then I can take you somewhere a little nicer to talk about this.”

Your eyes widened and you felt your face start to heat up at the idea of “going somewhere” to “talk” with this man.

You dreaded what he meant by ‘clean up’, the idea that he’d be showering with only a door or a room, at most, between you was making you ashamedly wet.

You could only pray that Issei didn’t notice the way you unconsciously squirmed in your seat.

And lucky for you, he didn’t. He was far too busy trying to figure out how to get himself to his bathroom without you noticing the sizable tent he could feel beginning to pitch. The only thing helping calm him down from being in the same room as you was the painful reminder that you were his brother’s fiance, along with the mention of what his brother had done to him 10 years ago.

“Okay. I’ll just wait here” you said, nodding as you focused your gaze on your lap, desperately trying to hide your look of embarrassment from Issei as he walked past you to his bedroom.

He closed the door with some kind of ‘make yourself at home’ comment, but once again, you were too preoccupied with your own arousal and ergo embarrassment to reply.

It was only when you’d calmed down a bit did you get up and explore the living room of his apartment. You were surprised to find it littered with not only human anatomy books and atlases (which was to be expected considering his career) but also with books filled with art, and even sketchbooks filled with what you assumed to be his own drawings.

In fact, now that you were looking closer, you could tell that Issei was something of an artist as well, the biggest hint being an easel and half-painted canvas in the corner of the room.

You couldn't help yourself, and went to inspect the work. When you got closer you could see the faint sketch lines on the canvas, and when you looked up from the painting to the window that it faced you saw the pieces of paper taped to the window, references for the painting.

You wanted to say that the painting of the woman was embarrassing. You wanted to say that the sketches of her nude body were scandalous, but you couldn't help but fixate on the beauty of Issei’s work.

The drawings made you feel warm inside, they made you feel seen.

If you squinted, the woman in the drawings almost looked like what you saw when you looked in the mirror. Of course you’d never seen anyone like yourself depicted in any art, so the feeling was definitely new but for some reason, you couldn't stop the warmth that started in your chest from traveling down to rest between your thighs.

And the more you looked at the drawings, the worse it got, as you noticed more sketches, some having the plus size woman drawn in different lewd poses, her curves almost highlighted due to the morning light coming through the paper.

You got so lost in the art that it almost felt like you were the woman in the drawings and that you could feel Issei watching you… memorizing your shape so that he could sketch you.

Your whole body was on fire as your fingers brushed against the papers on the window, tracing the figures outlines with one hand while gliding across your own outline with the other.

Normally you wouldn’t be caught dead acting like this, but it was like Issei’s work had you in a trance. The art mixed with the idea that there was a wet and very naked Issei less than 20 feet away from you had gone straight to your head, almost making you dizzy.

You didn’t know how long you’d been looking at the sketches, and you definitely hadn’t known that Issei had walked out of his bedroom to find you staring at his work a couple of minutes ago.

He knew that he should’ve at least tried to hide all of the shameless drawings of you, for god’s sake he’d only met you for 10 minutes yesterday. But you had haunted him, the only way he was able to sleep last night was after drawing you in all of the poses he longed to see you in.

So he stood silently in the doorway, watching as you traced his work, did you not realize it was you that he had drawn? Unless you were some sort of exhibitionist, you’d never be okay with some strange man you’d just met drawing you, much less drawing you as a nude model.

He let it go on for another minute or two, he wanted to let himself memorize your body again, he didn't know if he’d ever have another chance to see you and he’d be damned if he let his painting go unfinished. But even as he watched you, committing your shape to memory, he couldn’t help the nagging desire to touch you, he told himself that he wanted to feel you because it’d make his art better, he told himself there was no other motive.

He watched you finally move to the painting, watching you, he feared that if he let you continue you’d recognize yourself seeing as the painting held more color and detail.

“What do you think of it?” He asked, making you gasp as you jumped and whirled around to face him.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to snoop!” your eyes were wide and panicked, and yet he didn’t see any hint of recognition in them, hopefully meaning you still were unaware that you were the art’s model.

“Don’t apologize…. But please… I want to know what you think.”

You shyly turned back towards the canvas, not brave enough to compliment him to his face.

“It’s beautiful… you’re really good.” you breathed, the heat almost unbearable now that he was in the room.

“Only as good as my model.” he chuckled.

“Well she’s beautiful.” you complimented.

You were ashamed to admit the twinge of jealousy you felt towards the model. You had to remember that you were engaged…. Well at least for now….. in a week…. who knows?

“I think so too.” Issei mumbled from behind you, you could hear him moving but you still didn’t have the courage to turn back around.

You’d hoped that Issei couldn’t detect your arousal, but, of course, he could. What kind of artist would he be if he couldn’t observe? How else would he have looked at you close enough to paint you after just one meeting?

That said, Issei was more than pleased to know that you wanted him just as urgently as he needed you. He wondered if you’d lost sleep over it like him. Even at the risk of sounding naive or rash he wanted to ask you if you’d thought of him last night, as you walked home alone, as you slipped on your night clothes, as you drifted off to sleep.

He felt like a love-sick puppy, a feeling he hadn’t let himself feel ever since the love of his life walked out on him. Of course, with you standing in front of him who knows if she’s truly been his soulmate. If she had been his soulmate then why did you make him feel like this?

“Do you-” the words died on your tongue as you turned to find Issei directly behind you. The two of you were now close enough for him to see the way your breath caught in your chest.

You knew you should’ve stepped back, even risked knocking over the painting to get away, but it felt like your feet were superglued to the floor. You could hear Issei’s heart pounding in his chest as he looked down at you, staring into your eyes as you couldn’t help but stare back.

“Don’t you recognize her?” he whispered, his eyes darting down to your lips.

“I’m sorry?”

Your voice was barely audible, but at least it wasn’t shaking as Issei rested his hands on our shoulders and guided you to turn back towards the painting.

“Isn’t she familiar?”

His lips were right next to your right ear now, his breath warm as it tickled your jaw.

You stayed silent as you tried to focus on the artwork, somewhere deep inside, you knew exactly where this was going, but you had no power to stop it. You didn’t even think you wanted to.

“I don’t know” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt Issei’s palms travel down your sides to rest on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin ever so slightly.

“Look again.” he urged, placing his teeth over your pulse, scraping the skin as he started to massage your hips.

You forced your eyes open, your vision feeling unfocused as you tried to search for familiarity in the lines. It was only when Issei turned your body away from the painting, causing your eyes to drift to the full length mirror propped against a bookshelf, that you gasped in realization.

It was you.

And holy shit was that hot.

You felt Issei grin against your skin, that grin you’d seen him constantly sporting since he’d met you, and you couldn’t stop the quiet whine from leaving your chest.

You pressed yourself back into him, feeling him pressed against the curve of your ass, making him groan.

“Fuck…” he hissed, his hips jerked at the unexpected pressure, making you giggle in response.

He backed away from you, grinning to himself when you spun around, your lips downturned in disappointment.

“Come with me to bed.” He said, taking your hand in his.

You raised your eyebrow at him, a small smile coming over your face.

This morning was all the push you’d needed to break things off with his brother. You had definitely made up your mind to that. Plus…. even if Issei wasn’t looking for revenge against his brother… you were.

But still… that didn’t mean you didn’t want Issei to work for it.

“Hmm… why should I?” you teased, following his lead as he backed into his bedroom.

The grin never dropped from his face, if anything it got more confident. He knew he had you in the palm of your hand, but he also knew that you had him in the palm of yours.

“You really gonna make me beg for it sweetheart?” he asked, pulling you against him and switching your places. You bit your lip as you felt the bed pressing up against the backs of your legs.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down till his face was level with yours.

“You would look good on your knees.” you whispered, your lips brushing his.

You felt him twitch against your hip as he cursed under his breath, looking away from your eyes.

Issei knew he needed to pace himself, if you kept teasing him like that this would be over before it started and he definitely couldn’t have that happening.

“Wait, what’re you- hey!” you gasped as Issei pushed you back to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed. “What are you doing?” you asked as you cautiously watched him lower himself to his knees, his hands spreading your legs to let him kneel between your thighs.

“I thought you wanted me to beg…” he teased, laying his cheek against the inside of one of your spread thighs as he looked up at you.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your brain was short wiring at the sight of the dark haired man kneeling between your legs, his hands were so big, his fingers gripping your calves, coaxing you to spread your legs further for him.

You said nothing as you tangled your fingers through his hair, pulling softly to force his gaze up to yours.

His face was red and his pupils blown out, the sight was so erotic you thought you’d cum on the spot. You didn’t know anyone could ever find you this attractive, but as he let out a quiet whine, staring at you through half-lidded eyes, you realized a scary thought.

The thought that this man might want you even more than you wanted him.

“please…” he mumbled, pressing his head into your hand, willing you to guide him where he so desperately wanted to be. “...wanna taste you…”

You felt like you’d taken a nine-iron to the chest. But god did you feel powerful.

You tightened your grip on his hair, as you felt him work off your pants, pulling your soaked panties off with them, biting his lip at the feeling of the damp spot in the center of them.

“You’re so pretty….” you sighed, letting him go to rake your fingers over his scalp, “You wanna eat me out?”

He nodded, his tongue wetting his lips as he practically drooled over the sight of your bare cunt.

He wanted to paint you like this, spread out for him like a fucking masterpiece. But that would have to wait.

He could feel his head weeping against the front of his sweatpants, he’d (thankfully) gone commando in hopes of being where he was now, unfortunately that meant the feeling of the fleece lining was unbearable as he tried to ignore it, focusing on your pleasure first.

Without another word, you laced your fingers back through his hair and pushed his head down between your legs, gasping as you felt his lips quickly attach to your clit, wrapping around it and sucking, making your thighs snap shut around his head.

“fuck….” you gasped, obviously not expecting that overwhelming intensity right out of the gate.

Issei just moaned into you, bucking his hips at the feeling of your thighs pressed against his ears, he ran his hands up your legs to your stomach, guiding you to lay down on your back before hiking your knees over his shoulders.

And despite your position above him, you were completely powerless to his touch, leaning when he told you to, hesitantly opening your legs back up to allow him greater access.

When Issei felt your thighs loosen around his head he nearly cried, but he would have your legs wrapped around his head again, for now he needed to bring you to orgasm as fast as possible.

He pushed you further back onto the bed, helping you lay on your back as he repositioned himself between your legs, his hips pressing his hardened cock into the bedsheets.

His lips pressed to the insides of your thighs, sucking bruises into the skin as your fingers grasped at the sheets behind you.

“You’re so pretty” he muttered into your skin, looking up at you in awe as your chest heaved.

You doubt that you looked any kind of attractive right now, and yet Issei stared up at you like a sinner to a priestess.

“Please…” you gasped, your back arching away from the bed.

“Shhhh… I know…” he whispered, his mouth traveling back to your core, his tongue dipping between your folds, making you practically cry for more.

Issei’s brows were knit together, all of his being focused on not cumming in his pants from your taste. He wanted more…. he needed more.

“please…” he whimpered “...can I use my fingers?”

“N-mhm- yes..yes-please….” you gasped, crying out because as soon as you said it two of his fingers bullied their way into your pussy.

You cried from the burn of it, which melted into moans as his lips soothed your clit while his fingers curled inside of you.

It was gentle at first, he settled on warming you up to his fingers, gently pulling and pushing them in and out of you, kissing your clit with each plea or whine.

But as soon as he felt you relax, it started. He began with just sissoring his fingers inside of you, wanting to stretch you out for his cock before you came.

But as soon as you whimpered the words “..’m close Issei..” he abandoned all patience, pressing his fingers into your g-spot as he scraped his teeth against your clit, making you cry out.

You tried to close your legs around his head again, but he caught one of your thighs with his free hand and pressed it back down against the bed, forcing you to stay open for him.

You tossed your head against the sheets, whining how good it was as Issei buried his fingers into you again and again, pushing at your g-spot until you felt you high coming towards you like a freight train.

“Fuck…-gonna cum…Issei, ‘m gonna cum…”

“Shit..” Issei moaned against your clit, making you jerk against his face, your stomach clenching at the vibrations it sends through your body.

“come on, Sweetheart…. I want you to cum from my fingers…..please…”

Issei leaned back to watch your face as you came, feeling his cock twitch desperately in his pants at the sight of you gasping for air as your legs twitched beside his head.

You couldn’t form a single thought as you felt the wave of your orgasm wash over you, making your mind fuzzy as tears threatened to fall down your face.

Issei worked you through your orgasm, whispering praise against your thighs as he pressed his thumbs into your hips, massaging his fingers into the curve of your ass.

Eventually he worked his way back up your body until his chest covered yours and his hips ground against your thigh, reminding you that this was very much, not over.

Issei could look at you forever. If he thought you were beautiful before, you were absolutely breathtaking now, basking in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

God he needed you. He was convinced he’d need you for the rest of his life.

Still breathless from your high, you hooked a hand around the back of Issei’s neck and pulled him towards you, catching his lips in yours.

He moaned as your fingers pressed into his nape, encouraging him to deepen the kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue. He could feel his brain getting fuzzier by the second, he wanted to cum.

bad.

And you could tell with the way he tried to angle his hips away from you, trying to create the least amount of friction against himself as possible.

It was almost cute in a way, it’d been a while since someone needed you this badly, like a hormonal teenager. The only reason it wasn’t cute was because you needed him just as badly. You were ready for him now, your core twitching at the thought of it.

Before Issei knew what had happened, you flipped the two of you around, pinning him to the mattress as your ass rested dangerously snug against his clothed cock.

“Wai-” he started but you cut him off, pressing one of your perfectly manicured nails to his lips.

“It's my turn to have fun.” you said, offering a playful wink before crawling back down the bed to come face to face with his erection.

You could tell that it was painful by now, the only thing preventing it from standing to its full potential was his sweatpants.

Issei thanked god they were black, he’d leaked so much pre by now it probably looked like he already lost it.

Not that you would’ve minded, in fact you were face to face with his tent wishing the pants were gray for that exact reason.

You decided not to be cruel and pulled his pants down, trying (and failing) to hide your surprise when he finally sprang free.

“Fuck…” Issei gasped above you, his fingers gripping his bedsheets, trying not to cum from the look in your eyes.

“You’re so pretty Issei…” you swooned, he winced as your fingers wrapped around him, making you giggle. “Such a pretty boy…” you gave an experimental tug, biting your lip when his hips jumped off of the bed and a whimper slipped out of him.

“Do you want me to help you feel good, pretty?”

Issei could feel his face burn in humiliation as he nodded feverishly, he couldn’t help it, he’d do whatever you told him to no matter how embarrassing, for you, he’d do it.

You moaned as you took him into your mouth, your hand using his precum to stroke what couldn’t fit.

“Fuck…” Issei whined, his hips twitching out of his control with the way you worked him.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, and you only made it worse as you came off of him, only to turn your focus downwards, wrapping your tongue around his balls, taking them into your mouth.

“Shit… wai-fuck…”

You went back to his head, swiping your tongue across the slit, flicking your wrist as you stroked him closer to his high. You knew that he was close by the way his knuckles were white, gripping the sheets as he gasped and panted above you, begging you to slow down.

He really did look so pretty like this, biting his bottom lip while he tried not to cum too soon. It suited him much better than that stupid fucking smirk he always had on.

“Come on Issei…” you coaxed, your hand quickening its pace as his breathing grew even more ragged, “show me how good you feel…”

Issei made the mistake of peering down at your face, you were staring at him through your lashes, biting your lip as you grinned. That’s what made him lose it, the sight of you making him grunt and shake as he released, whimpering as you made a show of catching it on your tongue.

“What a good boy…” you praised, licking up anything that managed to land on his pelvis, enjoying the feeling of his hips shaking beneath your taste buds.

“It’s too bad though…” you said, sticking your bottom lip out in a fake pout as you sat back on your knees watching as Issei’s head raised off the bed to look at you, “‘cause I’m not tired yet.”

You giggled as Issei’s head dropped back down with a groan, he obviously knew where this was going.

You crawled back over him, positioning your hips over his, stroking him, trying to get him hard again.

“Wait” he pleaded, 2 minutes, that’s all he needed and then he could do it again, he just needed two minutes.

You decided to be nice and settled on just grinding against him.

“you’re no fun.” you mumbled, leaning down to leave your own bite marks, something you didn’t doubt he’d done to you already.

You settled on his chest, admiring how soft his skin was, you bit into it, surprised at how hard the muscle was below.

Yes, you knew that he was really fucking built when you saw him in just his sweatpants, you even knew he was built when you saw just how broad his shoulders looked in his nicely tailored work suit, but you were surprised just how strong he felt under your fingertips.

Maybe it was the fact he’d let you take control this whole time that made you for some reason think that he couldn't pin you down if he wanted to, but now you knew, he definitely could.

And god was that a tempting image.

Knowing that he could easily overpower you, could easily force your face into the mattress as he fucked you, but chose to listen to you so nicely was so fucking attractive.

You felt yourself tighten around nothing, keening as your clit caught against the head of his cock when you rubbed yourself against him.

“So good…” you moaned, resting your forehead against his chest, grinding down on his cock.

Issei decided he’d had enough, he was ready whether his dick was hard again or not. Which it was. How could it not be with you on top of him? He could feel your arousal, it made it almost impossible not to just slip his cock into you.

“Please….” he breathed, “...fuck please….”

You giggled from your place above him, leaning back to where you sat against his hips, comfortably sat with him wedged between your thighs.

“Come on Issei….how should I know what you want me to do?….”

Issei just whined beneath you, his body practically shaking under your touch. You brought your hands up to rest on his chest rather than the sheets on either side of his head.

“Please…..” he gasped again, his toes curling into the sheets when your prettily manicured nails circled his nipples.

You just grinned, dragging your hands up his neck, circling to his nape to hold his head, forcing him to look into your half-lidded eyes.

You leaned down towards him, grinding down onto him as you placed pecks on his face, starting from the edge of his lips… then to the arch of his nose… and finally up across his jaw, landing next to his left ear.

“What honey….” you cooed, loving the way you could feel his chest heaving beneath yours as you pressed your tits to him, as if his brain had melted already.

Issei whined, pressing his eyes closed, trying not to cum like a fucking loser before he even had the chance to be inside of you.

“.... you want some pussy, Baby?...”

“Oh fuck…. Please-please-please…. want it so bad…” Issei whimpered, his fingers leaving the sheets to grip the fat of your hips, undoubtedly hard enough to bruise.

You would’ve laughed if it wasn’t so pathetic.

Without another word, you reached under you, and all in one go grabbed his cock and slid onto it, gasping as you took it to the hilt on the first try.

Issei’s vision went white as he felt you press yourself down onto him, the pulse of your cunt around him making him dizzy, making him whip his head away, trying to hide from you as he let out a choked sob, along with stuttered, breathy ‘thank you’s.

“Fuck baby…” you groaned, reaching back up to cradle issei’s face with your hands, “.....feel you in my fucking throat….”

“..yeah?..... can I move…fuck-please…” Issei pleaded, making you wince with the force that his nails were digging into your hips.

“Fuck…” you dropped your head down, pressing your face into the nook of his neck, trying to stay strong, trying to stay in control as you felt your brain going fuzzy and your tummy turn to jelly. “...yes… please fuck me-ahh-”

You weren’t even able to finish the sentence before Issei’s hips started snapping into you from underneath, the force of his thrusts bouncing you against his chest. You moaned, feeling the air getting repeatedly knocked out of your lungs.

“Shit- slow-slow down Issei…” you winced out, the feeling of him slamming into you so fast was too much too early. If he kept going like this you’d both be done in no time.

“not so much baby…” you said again, trying to catch Issei’s attention after failing the first time, but unfortunately for you he was long gone, the only thing on his mind was pounding into you until you came all over his cock.

Issei couldn’t even hear you as you begged once more for him to slow down, he coudln’t hear anything over the sounds of his own moans and grunts paired with his hard breaths and of course the wet sounds of your cunt as he fucked into you like a fucking rabbit in rut.

He swore to god that there was nothing better than this, than the sound of you moaning above him as he drilled into you, his hands gripping the swell of your ass as you bounced on his cock.

It wasn’t long before you gave up on trying to take it slow, releasing yourself to the pleasure of Issei’s cock pushing at your walls while you cried into his neck, whimpering encouragement into his skin, trying your best to meet his thrusts.

“Oh my goddd….” you gasped after a particularly hard thrust, feeling his tip ram against your cervix when he adjusted you on top of him, bringing his heels up to dig into the mattress to allow him to fuck you even harder.

Your chest was no longer resting against his as the new angle forced you to lean back, barely giving you time to bring your arms behind you to support yourself as he used you.

Issei almost cried at the new position, not only because now he could push into you faster and harder, but because now with every thrust he could watch the way your tits bounced and your eyes rolled back into your head.

He could feel the itch of his orgasm starting in his gut, making him panic at the thought of this ending, at the thought of you getting up and walking out of his life after he scares you away with his intensity. Incidentally, the panic is also what allowed him to finally tune back into his surroundings, tune back into anything other than the feeling of your cunt squeezing him.

“Isseiiiii…” he heard you beg, your voice further ripping him out of his trance, he stilled inside of you, despite every fiber of his being saying not to.

It was only when he stopped that he noticed the way your arms were shaking under you, threatening to give out.

“Fuck…” he said, scrambing to sit up further on the bed, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you into him, allowing your arms to take a much needed break as he pulled your weight properly into his lap. “I’m sorry…” he whispered against your shoulder, “fuck ‘m sorry…. you just feel so good…”

He let you catch your breath, whispering apologies as he sucked more marks into your skin, his hips grinding his pelvis against your clit, making you gasp and keen as his tip rubbed against your g-spot inside of you.

This was almost worse than when he was moving, yeah it felt good, fuck it felt so good that you could barely remember your name, much less the reason you’d wanted him to slow down, but if he continued like this you knew you’d finish for a second time, and while you really wanted to finish, you wanted him to finish inside of you first.

“Issei…” you moaned, leaning away from him to look into his eyes, your cunt tightening around him at the sight of his blown out pupils and red cheeks, making him whine. “Issei let me lay down Baby…”

He nodded aimlessly, his eyes focused only on your tits as you slid off of him, laying down beside him, hoping he’d take the hint to climb over you and continue.

Thankfully he did, or at least got half of the hint. He climbed over you, his forearms framing your face as he resumed grinding himself against you, his cock slick with your arousal as it continued gliding between the folds of your pussy, the tip catching your clit with every stroke, making you both shake against each other.

“...ngh- please baby….” Issei whined against your neck, “...please lemme fuck….”

Your head was thrown back against the sheets, as you moaned out for him, wrapping your arms down and around him, raking your nails against his lower back, making him shiver and whine against you.

“Go ahead baby…” you urged, spreading your legs further for him, “...make me cum”

That was all Issei needed to resume the godless pace he’d set earlier, lining himself up with your hole before hammering you further into the mattress.

You gasped below him, once again feeling him deep enough to wonder if he’d somehow broken your cervix with the power behind his thrusts.

He was drunk on you, whining a repetitive ‘yes, yes, yes’ into your skin before you decidedly to shut him up, gripping his hair and guiding his mouth to one of your nipples.

You both moaned as he latched on, sucking hard enough to make your walls squeeze, practically choking his dick as he continued humping into you like a love-sick puppy. You could feel him twitching inside of you, telling you that he was also close.

“Fuck issei…” you begged, pressing his face closer to your chest, smothering him with your tits as he moaned and jerked into you.

At this point your couldn’t tell who was fucking who, with the way your hips were arching off of the mattress to meet his thrusts, making you both cry as his cock dragged against your insides perfectly.

“Fuck Issei, ‘m close…” you breathed, intentionally squeezing his cock, trying to get him to cum before you fell off that cliff.

He pulled himself off of your chest just long enough to whimper “fuck-me too baby…” before sending whiny vibrations back through your body as he licked and bit at your tits.

“Yeah?” you asked, “you gonna ask me if you can cum inside?”

You felt him jerk inside of you at the thought.

“D’ you wanna cum inside Issei?” you whispered into his ear, biting your lip as he nodded against you, his mouth never leaving your nipple but a pathetic whine coming out of the back of his throat as his thrusts started getting messy and out of sync.

You could both tell that the other was close, and while Issei desperately wanted to make you cum first, you both knew that he wasn’t the one in charge right now.

Issei fucked into you with a continuous stream of ‘please’ coming from his lips between each pant, his thrusts were getting sharper and off beat as he felt his balls starting to pull up, getting ready to shoot his load into you. But he was determined, he wanted to feel you creaming around his cock before he finally filled you.

But of course, you had other plans, your fingers reaching down to dig your nails into his ass cheeks, helping him keep the tempo of his hips slamming into you steady. Your cunt felt so fucking good for him, warm and tight and twitching as your release threatened to rear its head.

It was a silent battle of who’d break first, until you took his earlobe between your teeth and whispered into his ear.

“come on issei, give me your cum…. Please…”

That finally pushed him over the edge, making him cry against your chest as he tried to pull himself out of you to finish, thinking that you were just saying to finish inside to make him cum.

But as soon as you felt him try to pull out, you dug your nails deeper into the skin of his ass, pressing his body flush to yours as you felt the ropes of his cum start filling you up.

“Fuck… oh my god….” Issei gasped against you, his legs jerking and abs flexing against you as he felt you milking him dry.

The feeling of his cum pushed you into your release as well, making you throw your head back, mouth open as a silent moan ripped through you, your back arching as you felt yourself gushing, your mixed release dripping down your ass and Issei’s balls, no doubt soaking into Issei’s sheets.

Even if Issei said something to you right then, you didn’t hear it, it was like you lost all ability to do anything other than stare at the ceiling, feeling the waves of your orgasm rocking through your body.

And Issei honestly wasn’t much better, laying against your chest as his hips twitched in the aftermath, making you whine below him as his softening tip rubbed his cum into your raw walls.

Eventually though, Issei came back to, pushing himself back up onto his forearms to make sure you were ok. He just found you staring at his ceiling, your mind still blank and fucked out.

He brought a hand up, brushing your hair out of your face, kissing from your lips to your forehead, whispering ‘thank you’s’ and ‘you did so good for me’s’ as he gently pulled out and left to get a cloth to clean you up.

Somewhere along the process of Issei dragging the warm cloth across your skin, you remembered to feel self conscious due to the light streaming in through the bedroom window’s blinds.

Issei just tsked at your attempts to cover yourself with your hands, did you miss the last hour? He was fucking obsessed with you. You were fucking perfect to him. Fuck, not just to him, you were just perfect.

“Stop.” he grumbled, pulling your hand away from your stomach and replacing it with his own, gripping the plush of it between his fingers, groaning when you whined and jerked against him.

You just rolled your eyes, obviously it was pointless to argue with the man who’d just sucked your tits and gave you probably the strongest orgasm of your life.

“Whatever” you groaned, trying to push him away from you so you could at least retreat to the bathroom. Another plan, which he gladly spoiled as he latched onto you even tighter, abandoning the washcloth and opting to kiss across your neck, trying to distract you from the thought of leaving.

“Come on….” he whispered into your neck, pulling your body against him, groaning at the softness of it, “come take a shower with me… and then….” he reached down to your tits, tracing their outline again with his fingers.

“And then let me draw you again…”

“What am I gonna tell your brother?” you asked, hoping to kill the mood to at least be able to slip from Issei’s grasp, enough to let you leave both of the brothers’ lives without doing more damage.

But Issei just laughed, still tightening his hold on you, forcing you to stay with him in bed.

“Just tell him the truth”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” you said, side-eyeing Issei, watching him grin down at you with that familiar grin.

“That you’re gonna marry the better brother.”

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

*blows dust off of microphone*

hope you liked it bestie!!!!! tell me whatcha thought <3 <3<3<3

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jellys-compendium · 3 months

Text

Tying the Knot

A Vergil x f!Reader Oneshot

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Summary: To many, Vergil's demonic form is frightening. But to you, it's just as adorable and endearing as the man that lies beneath. Cw: smut, fluff, tender sex, monster sex, knotting, cockwarming, stuffing, teasing, Vergil is touch starved but he will never admit it, Reader is mute, non-traditional 'marriage' proposal Word Count: 1'684 A/n: The saga of fluffy writing for Vergil continues.

The content purr thrumming in Vergil’s chest is so soothing. It’s deep and blissful, lulling your own body to relax and melt into the heat of his own.

Your hands gently caress over Vergil’s body, your soft pliant flesh tracing the jagged and unyielding plates that lie beneath. Vergil’s appearance in this form is formidable, even frightening. But the tender way in which he cradles you in his claws has you softly cooing his praises and pampering his chin and teeth with soft, little pink lipped kisses.

Each and every single one of Vergil’s movements is careful. They are calculated and precisely timed. The hide of his devilish body is strong and sharp in most places, and he knows that with one wrong move he can slice open your fragile flesh with ease.

So, Vergil tempers the wanting. You can feel the itching burn of his hunger twitch beneath the muscles on his body. The passion and desire that swirls and swims through his veins is like an expertly crafted wine—potent and powerful. But Vergil’s will proves to be the victor. He won’t risk harming you in a fleeting moment of carnal lust.

Still, that doesn’t mean that you’re impervious to impatience.

Gently wiggling your body beneath his, your pussy clenches, and you silently groan, drawing in breath as the engorged and throbbing knot inside you presses harder against your g-spot.

Vergil tenses, a warning little growl catches in his exhaled breath as his grip on your hips tightens.

“Be still.” His words are strained, but his tone is soft and gentle even with its demonic trill.

You smile, a wordless “sorry” in your eyes as your lips press into a thin line. The giggle you try to suppress writhes in your chest, and Vergil feels it. If he could frown in this form, you imagine that he would.

“You’re laughing.” He accuses.

Being cradled by the pillow, you shake your head as best you can. But the voiceless dance of air that tumbles past your smiling lips betrays you.

‘Sorry.’ You sign. ‘Just a little impatient for the next round.’

Vergil sighs, and you hear shifting along the sheets. A gentle pressure circles around your waist, and you look down to see that the culprit is Vergil’s tail.

“Insatiable little succubus, aren’t you?”

You smile, pressing another little kiss to where you imagine his nose might be if he were in his human form.

‘Look who’s talking. It better not be the demon who’s locked his cock inside me for the third time tonight.’

Vergil snorts, rolling his glowing blue eyes at your response. You reach up to spoil him with more kisses all while running your hands over his wings, his back, his horns. Vergil’s hypnotic purring gets louder with each part of him you worship.

He really does love to be touched. By you, specifically. Every time your fingers seek him out, he’s always leaning his body towards yours. If the two of you are in the company of others it’s quite subtle, but the moment it's just you and him behind closed doors, it becomes so adorably obvious.

Like a cat, Vergil basks in the softness of your touch, arching against your fingers while pulling you deeper into his embrace. And while Vergil still does retain his stiff and standoffish demeanor most of the time (even with you), it’s tender little moments like this where you can peer behind the curtain and bask in the gentle warmth of his tender heart. He really is a big sensitive softy. With the soul of a poet to boot.

“Have you had your fun?” Vergil’s mouth opens and his long blue tongue slides out from between his sharp fangs to tenderly lap at your cheek.

Exhaling wistfully your own satisfaction, you nod.

‘I have. But I won’t object to one more round.’

Vergil’s amused chuckle fills the air as your brows wiggle. Your teasing fingers make their way down to the place where the two of you are connected. As you touch him, the comforting purr in Vergil’s chest intensifies—the vibrations traveling all the way down to where he has you knotted.

Your jaw slacks as a spark of pleasure ignites a new fire in your core. With hips arching further up to grind yourself against him, you bite your lip before pulling your hand back to massage your neglected clit.

Vergil growls, eyes fixating on where your fingers toy.

Then abruptly, the half-demon ends your play. With a heavy groan Vergil takes both your hands into his own, entwining your fingers as he brings them to his mouth, licking the remnants of both of your fluids from your digits.

His sigh of rapture sends another pang of heat flowing through you. And when Vergil looks at you, the demonic glow of his eyes holds within them all the tenderness in the world.

“You are so precious to me.”

Vergil’s words are so soft—whisper quiet—like they are a secret to the very air itself. But to you they may as well have been screamed in your ear. Your eyes widen and your heart nearly stops in your chest as Vergil looks down at you. There is the slightest tremor to his breaths now.

Then his hands release yours and using the words you had taught him, he clumsily signs.

‘Stay here with me.’

Then, he points to his heart.

You’re dumbfounded, staring at the half-demon above you with utter awe as your heart and mind tries to process what you had just seen. Vergil stares silently back at you, patient as he allows you to ponder your response. He never rushes you. He is never demanding of the beautiful words you craft into the air.

But you find yourself rushing at this moment. Rushing to tell him exactly how you feel. Neither you nor Vergil had been very good at communicating your feelings in life, but now —in this private little moment—it feels totally effortless.

Happy little tears spring in your eyes, and you smile, reaching up to wipe them away with one hand as you sign with the other.

‘Always.’

And Vergil purrs happily, leaning down to take you in his arms. You wrap him in your embrace too, pressing kisses to his face. But your pampering is cut short, as Vergil takes hold of your waist and shifts his hips away, slowly pulling and popping his knot out of you.

A pathetic little whine escapes your throat as Vergil pulls out. Losing the feeling of his hot cock throbbing inside you makes you feel so lonely and empty.

“Shhh,” Vergil hushes, clawed fingers moving down to capture and cup your ass. You gasp as Vergil hoists you up, placing you prettily upright and in the crux of his lap, dangling you just above the glistening cock still covered in your arousal and his cum.

Gosh, he’s still so hard and throbbing like he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes nestled deep inside you.

Lowering you down gently, the head of Vergil’s cock presses against your swollen folds, then strokes from your clit to your entrance.

Your hands land upon his shoulders, steadying yourself as you sigh and peg him with a pleading look.

‘Please. Don’t tease me.’ You mouth.

Vergil nods, nestling his cockhead at your twitching entrance. He pauses for a heartbeat, then two, before he slowly slides you all the way down to his knot.

You gasp in pleasure as you’re filled anew, pressing your lips to his teeth as you melt into his arms. Vergil hums, snaking that long demonic tongue into your awaiting mouth with rapture—the only way the two of you can kiss while he is in this form.

You suck on his tongue, relishing in his taste and how he trembles as you clench your pussy around his cock. Coaxing him and milking him, grinding against him as you beg him with each sensual movement of your body.

And Vergil is more than eager to oblige.

The thrusting starts slow as Vergil eases himself in and out of your sopping pussy. There’s not an ounce of hurry in his movements. Instead, he frees his tongue from your mouth and moans—the demonic trill he releases sending shivers all along your skin as he savors every fleshy inch of your insides with his cock.

“So sweet,” Vergil softly pants. “No matter how many times…”

You want to tell him that you feel the same way, but your hands are currently busy gripping for dear life against his armored shoulders. So instead, you press a tender little kiss to his forehead, and Vergil understands.

The two of you writhe and thrust and pant, clutching one another with loving and desperate hands as Vergil pounds into your cunt. The wet slap of your skin against his and the desperate little breathless sounds from both of your mouths send the two of you into a frenzy. Rutting against the other as you both seek that blissful release.

It’s not long before you’re coming on Vergil’s cock, and he groans with pleasure, stilling as your pussy pulses and grips his monstrous girth like a vice.

“Let me knot you,” Vergil gasps, voice strained as he fights off his own climax.

“Please.”

You nod desperately, tears of pleasure staining your lashes as you work yourself down on his knot, trying to take it yourself but knowing that you’ll need his help to do so.

And with one forceful push, Vergil stuffs his knot inside you, tearing a voiceless cry from your throat as you wrap your arms around his neck—both of your bodies quivering as Vergil fills you to the brim and then some.

Vergil moans softly as he succumbs to his own pleasure, holding you tight as he pumps you full of his cum. He wishes that he could stay right here, inside you and on this bed forever. But Vergil has lived long enough to know that such moments are fleeting, and to savour every second while he can.

He’ll treasure you—his little muse—until the day that he dies.

divider source

#dmc #dmc 5 #devil may cry #vergil #vergil sparda #vergil x reader #vergil x you #vergil smut #jellywrites

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thegrapeandthefig · 6 months

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Dissecting ancient Greek wedding customs (or “How to adapt the clusterfuck they are into something somewhat doable for the 21st century”)

This post is going to be a bit different. I could stick to writing about the customs we know of from a purely historical perspective, and while it would be informative, it wouldn’t reflect what I’ve actually been up to. Some of you might already know, but I’m getting married, so I approached this topic with the intent of seeing what I could do (and get away with).

So this post is going to be more about method and the practical challenges that come with doing the groundwork of adapting very old (and often outdated) traditions in a way that makes sense for our modern times.

I do have some disclaimers to make before I get started:

Most (if not all) of the literature around ancient Greek marriage is hetero-normative. However, this does NOT mean that marriage rites shouldn’t be adapted for queer marriages or that queer marriages can’t be done within Hellenic paganism. It’s our job as reconstructionists and revivalists to rework and adapt to our needs.

Similarly, this post is bound to mention or detail cult practices that are no longer in line with our modern sensibilities. I also want to make it clear that this post is not a tutorial. I’m not saying how things should be done, I’m only exposing elements that I consider reworkable and propose suggestions so that it can help others make their own research and decisions, with the level of historicity that they deem fit.

While the wedding customs from fifth century BC Athens are decently known, the ones from other cities and regions of Greece are much more obscure outside of anecdotal and fragmentary details (with the exception of Sparta). For this reason, the Athenian example is what I’ll be using as foundation. If you reconstruct practices from other areas of the Greek World, you might find something valuable in this article: The Greek Wedding Outside of Athens and Sparta: The Evidence from Ancient Texts by Katia Margariti.

Basic/simplified structure

The typical Athenian wedding would spread over three days, and be marked by several steps, some of which are listed below. Note that the order of these steps is not precisely known and might have been flexible:

Pre-wedding:

Decorating: korythale at the door, decoration of the nuptial bedroom

The Proteleia

Filling of the loutrophoros

Wedding day

Nuptial bath

Adornment of the bride

Wedding Feast

Hymenaios

Anakalypteria

Nymphagogia

Katachysmata

Day after

Epaulia

Gamelia

Final sacrifices

Some of these steps included specific customs and traditions, not all of which are reconstructible for various reasons.

Decorations

The korythale: the korythale was a sprig, usually from an olive tree (or laurel), which was placed at the groom’s door (and perhaps the bride’s too). The word in interpreted as deriving from “koros” and “thallein”, which would translate “youth-blossom”.

The korythale is very reminiscent of the eiresione, which was a similar kind of branch of laurel used during the Thargelia and/or the Pyanepsia that had apotropaic purposes. Athenian weddings included a procession from the bride’s home to the groom’s house, so the presence of the korythale at the doors would indicate that a wedding was taking place involving the decorated homes.

While I haven’t seen any one make this interpretation, I would still be tempted to argue that decorating the thresholds of houses has a similar protective and luck-bringing purpose than the eiresione, which was also hung above the door of Athenian houses.

The thalamos (nuptial bedroom): While there is no doubt the houses were properly decorated for the occasion, we have mention of special care given to the nuptial bedroom.

It’s important to understand that the procession from the bride’s house to the groom’s went up to the bedroom door, it was generally an important location and its preparation is seen represented on ancient pottery. Euripides mentions the adornment of the bed with fine fabrics, while Theocritus mentions the smell of myrrh (sacred to Aphrodite). There is also evidence that, in the Imperial period, the practice of hanging curtains to create a canopy above the bed was adopted, very likely from Egypt.

When it comes to adapting this today, it is pretty straightforward and there is plenty of room for personalization. The korythale could be challenging depending on how easily available olive or laurel are in your area. I would also argue that the custom could be more loosely adapted so that instead of being at the houses’ doors, it could take the form of a floral arrangement at the door of whatever venue you are using.

Proteleia

In short, the proteleia refers to sacrifices and offerings that would be made to various gods before the wedding. The exact timing of these is more or less unknown, but we have reasons to believe they could be done a day or a few days before the wedding, and perhaps also on the day of the wedding. These offerings were made independently by each family.

It is in this context that the offering of a lock of hair and of childhood items is best known for brides. The recipients of the offerings are varied: In Athens the most mentioned are the Nymphs and Artemis, but various sacrifices to Aphrodite, Hera, Athena and Zeus were also performed. In other parts of Greece, pre-nuptial customs often included sacrifices to local heroines. Plutarch, in the 2nd century AD (and therefore way after the focus of this post) mentions the main five nuptial deities to be Zeus Teleios, Hera Teleia, Aphrodite, Peitho and Artemis.

Today, I believe the exact choice of who to offer to and what to offer very much comes down to personal preferences and circumstances. While we assume that both families made prenuptial sacrifices, we know very little of the groom’s side of things, since the focus was on the bride, and the rite of passage aspect was not present for the groom in Ancient times. This is a gap that leaves room for modern innovation eg. including Apollon to either replace or accompany Artemis or choosing a group of deities that is more couple-centric rather than family-centric.

Personally, I have settled on Aphrodite, Hera and Artemis and have integrated a Spartan custom that includes the mother of the bride in the sacrifice to Aphrodite. Hera Teleia will receive a lock of my current hair, while Artemis will receive a lock of hair from my first haircut as a child (that my mother has kept all these years), alongside some other trinkets. The groom will honour Zeus Teleios in a passive way. And I will honour the Nymphs through the the rite I will explain next.

Nuptial baths

Both bride and groom had a ritual bath before the wedding. Its purpose was of cleansing and purificatory nature, and is consistent with other water-based pre-sacrifice purifications. What made the bride and groom's baths distinctive was their preparation. The bath water used to be drawn at a specific spring or river. At Athens, the water for bridal baths came from the Enneakrounos, the fountain house for the spring Kallirrhoe, but each city had its dedicated source. The water was carried in a special vase named the loutrophoros (bathcarrier) and the act of fetching the water and bringing it back to the homes constituted a procession. The loutrophoros was often given as offering to the altar of the Nymphs after the wedding. It was an important symbol of marriage, to the point that, if a woman died before being married, she would often be buried with a loutrophoros.

This will be more or less difficult to adapt depending on circumstances and environment, but the logic of a purifying bath (or shower even) can be kept (though I would discourage bathing in water you are not sure of the cleanliness of). The idea of having a specific vessel can also be kept. Personally, I plan to have a special vessel for some type of purified water, and while I may not bathe in it, I plan to sprinkle it and/or wash my hands with it.

Adornment of the bride (and groom)

Traditionally, the bride would have a nympheutria (which we could equate as a bridesmaid, but seems to have often been a female relative) charged of helping the bride get ready. I won’t get into the details of the clothing we know about, mostly because there seems to be a lot of variation, and because I consider this to be a very personal choice. However, we can note that both groom and bride were adorned with a wreath or a garland of plants that were considered to have powers appropriate for the occasion (sesame, mint, plants that were generally considered fertile or aphrodisiac). Perfume is also something attested for both bride and groom, especially the scent of myrrh. The bride would wear a crown, the stephane, which could be made out of metal or be vegetal (the stephane is now the object of its own crowning ceremony in Greek Orthodox weddings). The bride’s shoes were also particular for the event, and named nymphides. The bride’s veil was placed above the crown.

Hymenaios and Feast

I am grouping these two since they are linked. The feast was more or less the peak of the wedding ceremony and lively with music and dances, as Plutarch indicates (Moralia, [Quaest. conv.] 666f-67a):

But a wedding feast is given away by the loud cries of the Hymenaios and the torch and the pipes, things that Homer says are admired and watched even by women who stand at their doors.

The hymenaios was a sung hymn in honour of the couple and the wedding, and there were other songs that were specifically sung at weddings. However the hymenaios wasn’t only for the feast, these songs would be sung also during the processions. The hymenaios also had the purpose of ritually blessing the couple, a ritual that bore the name of makarismos.

As for the feast, it was obviously abundant with food and the prenuptial sacrifices provided the meat that would be served. There is otherwise very little difference with what a modern wedding feast would be like: food, drink, music and dance around which gathered friends and relatives of the couple. Like today, the wedding cake(s) was an important part of the celebration. It was called sesame and consisted of sesame seeds, ground and mixed with honey and formed into cakes to be shared with the guests.

Anakalypteria

Note that there is a bit of a debate around this step, which is the unveiling of the bride. Some believe the bride kept her face veiled until this part of the wedding, where her face would be uncovered for the groom to see. Others interpret this step the other way around, where the bride is then veiled as a result of being now married. The timing of the unveiling is also up for the debate. It might have been during the feast (at nightfall), or after once the couple was escorted to the bridal chamber. There doesn’t seem to be a clear consensus.

The concept of unveiling the bride is otherwise something that isn’t unknown to us as a modern audience. As with everything else, how to interpret and modernize it is up to personal preference.

Nymphagogia and Katachysmata

The nymphagogia aka the act of “leading the bride to her new home” took place at night, likely after the feast. It is at this point that the groom ritually led the bride to his home by taking her by the wrist in a ritual gesture known as χεῖρ’ ἐπὶ καρπῷ (cheir’ epi karpo). The relatives and friends of the couple formed a festive procession that accompanied them to their new home accompanied by music and songs. The mother of the bride led the procession carrying lit torches, while the groom’s mother awaited for the new couple in their home, also bearing lit torches.

Once there, the rite of the katachysmata would happen. The couple would be sat near the hearth and the guests would pour dried fruits, figs and nuts over the bride and groom as a way to incorporate them into the household and bless the union with prosperity and fertility. As part of this rite, the bride ate a fruit (either an apple, quince or pomegranate). It is only after this step that the couple would be escorted to the bridal chamber.

These two rites are tricky to adapt in a modern context because of how location-specific they are (and that’s not even taking into account the implications of having family escort you to your bedroom etc). My take would be that the katachysmata is not too far off from the custom of throwing rice/flowers at the couple after the ceremony, and could probably be incorporated as such. The torches could also be replaced by any source of light placed in a meaningful location, depending on the where the wedding is being held. The nymphagogia could also do with an update, the easiest of which could simply be holding hands while leaving the wedding ceremony.

The day after (Epaulia, Gamelia & sacrifice)

The epaulia refers to wedding gifts to the couple, which would be given the day following the ceremony. At this point, it is implied that the couple has consummated their marriage and are officially newly-weds. Pausanias informs us that the term “epaulia” (also?) refers to the gifts brought by the bride’s father in particular and included the dowry.

After the epaulia, the bride's incorporation into her husband's house was complete. This might have been when the groom held a feast for his phratria (aka direct family), as a way to conclude the wedding.

As for final sacrifices, the bride herself may have marked the end of her wedding by dedicating her loutrophoros at the sanctuary of Nymphe, south of the Acropolis.

The epaulia could be adapted, in modern terms, with having a registry. Should someone choose to have a specific vessel linked to the ritual bath today, it could very well be kept, dedicated to the Nymphs and used as a small shrine. Considering how symbolic the object is, there is also room for it to become a piece of family heirloom.

Final words

This is really only a small summary of what a wedding could have looked like, sprinkled with a few ideas of how to manage the gaps, discrepancies and limitations. As I said in my introductions, there are details I haven’t mentioned. Some of the customs detailed here have clear modern counterparts, but others don’t. I’d like to conclude by addressing these.

First, the ancient Greek (Athenian) wedding is completely devoid of priestly participation. It was entirely planned, organized and led by the two families. Religious responsibilities were entirely self-managed. I find this point important to remember because it makes it much more accessible than if modern Hellenic pagans had to seek out an external authority.

Some of you might have noticed the absence of wedding vows, at least in a formal form like the one we are used to in our modern days (derived from Christian and Jewish traditions), this is not an oversight, there simply were none that we know of. As a sidenote, I would also advise against turning a wedding vow into a formal oath. I’m still debating on what to do myself, but I’m leaning towards a religiously non-binding vow that won’t curse me should things go wrong.

Adapting the structures and rites of the ancient wedding to today’s framework of ceremony will naturally lead to changing the order of things, on top of sacrificing elements for the sake of simplicity, practicality, personal preferences and, very likely, visibility. Unless you’re lucky enough to do a private elopement, chances are that relatives and friends might be there, and not all might know or even approve of your faith. I hope this post shows that there can be ways to include traditional religious elements that will go unnoticed to the untrained eye, like I hope it showed that the private nature of the ancient Greek wedding rites is a significant advantage for modernization.

#hellenic polytheism #hellenic paganism #hellenic pagan #heradeity #greek history #ancient greece #zeus deity #aphrodite deity #artemis deity #hellenic reconstructionism #wedding rites

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