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tsumwriter · 2 years

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Yep, this is ✨everything✨

Bane of my existence; object of my desires

Content / Trigger Warnings: slight angst with a happy ending, some gossip could be read as homophobic (a man is said to ‘prefer the company of men’ and while it isn’t explicitly stated as being a negative thing it could be taken as such, suggested masturbation but nothing explicit, reader is shorter than Sakusa

Characters: regency au Kiyoomi Sakusa x female reader

Words: 5k+

This is loosely inspired by Pride & Prejudice. Thank you to my love @leechlips for being the inspiration for this <3

You are greeted by the sounds of mirth echoing throughout the manor: the lively waltz being played in the ballroom, the raucous laughter of those who had perhaps imbibed a bit too freely, and the giggles of several young ladies fawning over the eligible bachelor of their choice. All of it blends together into a boisterous symphony that is not altogether unpleasant, despite its disorienting nature.

It is already well into the season, meaning that there is plenty of gossip to go around. It isn’t difficult to make out the not quite hushed mutterings of the women standing near you. Most of their talk bores you as they theorize which suitor a young lady will choose, or comment on a bachelor who is overly eager to dance twice with the same partner. Your ears perk, however, upon hearing a familiar name.

“That Mr. Sakusa is such an odd fellow, is he not? He always has such a sour look on his face at each social event, as if he wishes he were not in attendance.”

“He’s been staying with his cousin Mr. Komori for five weeks now, yet he hasn’t called on anyone! Perhaps he is a recluse?”

“I heard that he prefers the company of men. It’s why he hasn’t courted any of our young women.”

Taking a deep breath, you bite your tongue and force down the bitter words that threaten to spill from your lips. You aren’t sure why their speculations bother you so, why you feel the urge to come to the man’s defense. Surely, were the tables turned, Sakusa would make no attempt to speak in your favor.

To be honest, the man was a recluse. He didn’t seem to enjoy the company of anyone, woman or man. The only one who seemed able to entice him into conversation was his cousin. You suspect that the two must have grown up together, for Komori to be able to speak to Sakusa so casually.

You had barely even heard the man’s voice, but not for lack of trying. As his temporary neighbor, you had at first taken it upon yourself to make him feel welcome during his visit. But you had barely managed to exchange the barest of pleasantries before the conversation had lapsed into awkward silence. After multiple repeats of the same exact situation, you had surmised that he simply wasn’t interested and had given up.

Still, you found yourself searching for him at every ball, every social. It was because he was so handsome, you reasoned. It wasn’t as if yours were the only eyes that followed him when he entered the room. His was an aura that demanded attention, even if he didn’t seem to want it.

That didn’t explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever you caught him looking in your direction, but you aren’t ready to think about that just yet.

As you press further into the building, you instinctively begin to scan the room for the familiar sight of his curly dark hair. As always, you find him situated in a mostly empty corner of the room. He is speaking to Komori, and both men notice you at the same time.

Giving a customary curtsy, you expect the two of them to simply acknowledge you and return to their private conversation. Instead, they come closer.

“Good evening, Miss,” Komori greets you amiably. “I hope that you will forgive my audaciousness when I say that your gown is quite stunning tonight. The color is lovely against your complexion.”

You incline your head with a smile, politely accepting the compliment. “Thank you, sir.”

Curiously, you glance at the man beside him. Sakusa says nothing, but he looks you down and back up just slowly enough to toe the line of impoliteness. When his eyes meet yours, you feel your face flush with heat and quickly look away. Why does he have to be so handsome? It sets your heart aflutter and ties your poor, treacherous stomach in knots.

“Don’t you think she looks nice?” Komori prods.

After a pause, Sakusa nods. You try to ignore the slight ache you feel in your chest at his lack of response. He’s obviously only trying to be polite. It’s clear that he’s uncomfortable, and you can only imagine that he’s wishing that he were anywhere but here.

Still, his cousin continues to push. “You’re being rude, Kiyoomi,” he insists. “You should ask her to dance. She is our neighbor, after all.”

“Oh, there’s no need.”

“May I have the next dance?”

You try to intercede on Sakusa’s behalf, at the same time that he makes the offer. For a moment, the two of you stare at each other awkwardly. Then he coughs, offers you his hand. Moving instinctively, you place yours in his and follow as he walks towards the line of dancers.

The two of you take your position on the ballroom floor, his gloved hand gently pressing against your lower back and setting your kindling heart ablaze. Your breath catches in your throat as his intense gaze falls on you. For a moment, everything else fades away as you lose yourself in his eyes. Then the music starts and he begins to move, guiding you along with him.

The dance is almost as dizzying as the man himself, forcing you to cling to him as he twirls you around. Your foot catches on the edge of your dress- you knew you should have taken the time to hem it before coming- but his solid arm steadies you before you can stumble. "I’ve got you," he murmurs, although it is spoken so quietly that you wonder if you perhaps imagined it.

“Despite the fact that we’ve both been in attendance at several of these balls, I do believe that this is the first dance we’ve shared, isn’t it?” you ask. It’s a pointless question, considering the fact that you already know the answer. But you hope it’s enough to get him talking, or at the very least distract him from your clumsy mistake.

To your chagrin, he merely nods. However, after a few moments of silence he adds, “I rarely dance. Finding a suitable partner is… difficult.”

You aren’t sure whether to interpret his words as a compliment or an insult. But at least he’s speaking, so you attempt to continue the flow of conversation. “I understand completely. Did you know that Komori used to be a terrible dancer? He once stepped on my foot!”

Is it just your imagination, or did one corner of Sakusa’s mouth twitch upwards? It isn’t quite a smile, but almost. Enough to give you a sense of satisfaction, and to grow a bit more bold.

“You, however, are an excellent dancer.” Flattery has worked on many a man before, and you hope that it will work in this circumstance. “It’s a shame that you don’t do it more often. Think of the young ladies whose toes you could be rescuing.”

There it is again- that almost imperceptible movement of his lips. Warmth blossoms from somewhere deep within you, and your head suddenly feels light, as if it might float away at any moment. How strange that you should react so strongly to such a small change in his expression. Imagine if he were to actually smile! You might faint straight away.

Luckily, the steps of the dance position him behind you, giving you a brief respite from his angelic features. Oh, but the way his fingers curl around your waist steals your breath. He’s a respectable distance behind you, but still close enough that you can feel the way his frame dwarfs yours. There is a graceful strength in his movements, in the way he guides you twirling away from him, and then back into his arms.

And now you are face to face again, and you are sure that he will notice how yours has warmed considerably. He stares at you with such an intensity, you fear that perhaps he can read your mind. Does he know your desires, so improper that you have saved them for nights spent alone in bed with only your imagination and wandering fingers to keep you company?

When he leans in, your heart leaps in your chest as a new fantasy suddenly fills your mind. Half expecting to feel his lips upon your neck, you are instead granted the warmth of his breath against your skin as he speaks. “Would you permit me to call on you tomorrow afternoon?”

Your tongue suddenly feels thick and heavy in your mouth. The music ends as you nod dumbly in response. He bows, and you hastily dip into a responding curtsy.

“Then I shall see you tomorrow, miss.”

You can feel yourself spinning long after the dance has ended.

A bouquet is delivered early the next morning, before you have even finished your breakfast. The card that accompanies the delivery is simple and to the point: your name, and his. K. Sakusa. But it’s the message of the flowers themselves that causes you to grab the back of your chair in a white-knuckled grip.

Roses.

Red.

Surely he knows the significance of this? Even if he doesn’t know the passionate meaning behind them, the cost of the roses makes for an extravagant gift. It’s enough to provoke gossip of a courtship at the very least. And at the worst? Any potential marriage prospects- not that you have many to begin with- could be discouraged by rumors of an engagement.

You’re left to simmer over the bouquet and its meaning for hours. A small, overly optimistic voice in the back of your head tells you to take the gift at face value. It is clearly a romantic gesture.

Only, that doesn’t make sense. Because Sakusa clearly has no interest in you. If he had cared to court you, he could have shown signs of his intentions during any of the conversations that you had attempted to share with him. But he had done no such thing. In fact, the closest he had come to wooing you had been asking you to dance the night before.

And now the flowers.

It could be a prank, although it seems a bit expensive for that. More likely, Sakusa is being pressured into a hasty marriage. That is the most plausible explanation. He has simply chosen you as a candidate because he considers you an easy target.

For a moment, your vision becomes tinged in red. That is what he thinks of you, isn’t it? Of course he has seen the way you have fawned over him. He sees you as a whimsical, nonsensical woman who would be unable to see through his cheap profession of ‘love’ and the sweet nothings he would likely regale you with during his visit.

But you are smarter than he gives you credit for. You won’t let yourself be swayed by his pretty face, nor by his expensive flowers. A marriage for love is rare, but it is what you want more than anything. You won’t let a man desperate to wed ruin that for you.

By the time that Sakusa arrives, you are ready for him. Seated in the parlor, you don’t bother standing to greet him. You expect to feel a sense of satisfaction at watching his awkwardness, the way he fumbles with his hat, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Instead, you only feel a small pinch of guilt as he glances at your chaperone before taking a few steps into the room, coming to stand in front of you.

“If I may speak to you in private?” he asks.

Oh no. No, no no. Surely he doesn’t think that you will accept a proposal so readily the first day that he comes calling? Does he really think you so naive and desperate for marriage?

“I don’t think that there is anything that need be said without a chaperone present.” You stand, suddenly emboldened by his obvious lack of regard for you. “In fact, I don’t think that there is anything that need be said between us at all.”

His face falls. You see the pinch of his brows, the downturn of his lips. For a horrible, painful moment he almost appears dejected. But then he bows, and when he stands back to his full height his expression has returned to normal.

“My apologies, miss. There seems to have been a misunderstanding.” He turns, offering another bow to your chaperone. “Please forgive me for intruding. I will see myself out.”

Stop him. That tiny, hopeful voice screams. At least give him a chance. Let him tell you why he came.

No. Another voice, louder, speaks over the first. I won’t let him make a fool of me. The only reason that a man of his social standing would court a woman like me is if he were desperate. I don’t want a loveless marriage of convenience.

He is gone now, anyways. Although the roses he had gifted remain in a vase on the table in front of you, a painful reminder of the heartless nature of men.

The choice to turn Sakusa away had been yours, but your heart aches all the same. Before, you had been able to bury your affections for him so deeply that even you were not fully aware of them. But now, you are unable to deny the truth.

You care for him. And more than anything else, you wish that he would care for you as well.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have turned him away so quickly. Even if he hadn’t chosen you for the reasons you wished, he had chosen you. If you had accepted his proposal, at the very least you would have been able to remain by his side. It was foolish to believe that he could ever come to love you, but you could have loved him. And surely he would have eventually warmed up to you enough to be considered a good friend. It would have been something, at least.

But would it have been enough? That’s the question that plagues you morning and night for the next three days. It isn’t until the fourth evening, as you prepare for yet another ball, that you come up with an answer.

Loving Sakusa, living beside him as his partner and friend, is what you want. Regardless of whether or not he returns your love. You want the chance to love him.

Maybe it isn’t too late. If you could only speak to him, perhaps you could tell him that your previous interaction was simply due to nerves. If you could convince him that you were simply worried about meeting his approval, you might have a chance. Men are prideful, fluff him up a bit and you’d likely be able to get back into his good graces.

The only problem is, you can’t find him. After searching practically every hall and open room of the manor in which the ball was being held, you still have seen no sign of the man. However, you do spot someone who will likely know where he is.

“Mr. Komori, a pleasure to see you this evening.” It’s not proper etiquette for a lady to approach a man, and you can see the surprise in his gaze as he turns. But if he feels any judgment or disgust at your impropriety, he hides it well.

“Indeed,” he says simply. It’s clear that he’s uncomfortable, and you can only assume that it’s because of what transpired between you and his cousin. “Ah, I believe a few young ladies are without partners for the next dance, so if you’ll excuse me-”

“Where is Sakusa?” You throw what little remains of your manners to the wind, interrupting him before he can leave. “I urgently need to speak with him.”

He hesitates only a moment before sighing in defeat. “Regrettably, Kiyoomi is unable to attend. It appears that he has taken ill.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably. It takes less than a second for your mind to conjure up horrible images, worst case scenarios that leave you reeling at the possibilities of what could happen. Swallowing thickly, you ask, “He is alright though, isn’t he?”

Komori gives you a strange look. “May I speak frankly, miss?” Once you nod, he steps closer, ensuring that his words are heard by you alone. “My cousin’s ailments are merely that of a broken heart. But you should know this already, as you are the one who rejected him. Surely you didn’t think that such a wound would be so easily brushed off?”

“I’m sure that his pride must have been wounded,” you argue. “But you and I both know that he bears no true affection for me. His attempted proposal was merely out of obligation-”

“Obligation?” This time, he’s the one to interrupt. It’s quite startling, considering how genteel he normally is. “Forgive me, miss, but you are wrong. Kiyoomi is under no great pressure to wed.”

All the air leaves your lungs in a big whoosh. Komori doesn’t seem like the type to lie, and there is an earnestness in his voice that you want to trust. But if he’s telling the truth, then that means that your assumptions about Sakusa were wrong. However, that still leaves the question, “Then why was he trying to propose?”

“Please understand,” the man sighs, running a hand down his suddenly tired face. “My cousin is very delicate. The company of others makes him uneasy. Yet somehow, he managed to find comfort in your presence; it’s the only reason he continued attending these social gatherings. He came each time because he wanted to see you again. He hoped to somehow work up the courage to properly speak to you. In the end, he decided to simply make his sentiments known by asking for your hand.”

Your body becomes frozen. Unable to speak, unable to move. You watch helplessly as Komori excuses himself from the conversation, leaving you alone and more confused than you’ve ever been in your life.

Is it possible that he had been speaking the truth? Does Sakusa truly love you?

As the days pass, a familiar sense of doubt begins to claw its way inside your mind. You had been far too quick to believe Komori’s words. When you allow yourself to truly think about the possibility of a man such as Sakusa loving you, it becomes all too clear how impossible of an idea it is.

He is of a higher station than you, your better in every way. While he may have lacked social graces, he has never been ill mannered or broken decorum. He is a gentleman through and through, and his looks and wealth are certainly enough to have many a young lady overlook any oddities of his personality. So why would he ever have need of you? You won’t accept it. Can’t accept it.

You aren’t sure if this new realization makes the pain worse or better. There is still a tightness in your chest each morning when you wake. Still a heaviness in your heart whenever he crosses your mind- which is, admittedly, far too often.

His face keeps appearing in your mind. You can remember perfectly the expression he had worn the last time that you had seen him, on the day that you had refused to hear his proposal. The furrow of his brows. The downward turn of his lips. What had it been? Disappointment? Sadness?

Shaking your head, you try and fail to banish him from your thoughts. Hoping that some fresh air and a change of scenery would help, you soon find yourself dressed and in a carriage heading towards town. Settling in for the long trip, you lean your head against the wall and stare out the window at the gray skies. Big, angry clouds are beginning to roll in, and you almost feel as if the weather is intentionally changing to match your mood.

The first pattering of rain against the roof of the carriage is comforting at first. But as it gains in intensity, you feel a shiver go down your spine. A sense of foreboding settles on you, deep and heavy.

A sudden lurch of the wagon causes your heart to leap into your throat. Hanging your head out the window, you are immediately blinded by the pelting rain. Pushing your soaked hair from your face, you can only barely make out the image of the coachman stepping down, stooping to inspect something that you can’t quite make out.

“Wagon wheel is stuck in the mud,” he explains once he has finished his investigation. “I’ll take the horse and go for help. You stay here, miss.”

Suddenly, the coach feels much smaller than it had only moments before. The walls seem to be closing in on you, and you struggle to catch your breath. The thought of being trapped here, alone in the storm, fills you with dread.

“I’ll take the horse home, and send help,” you say.

But the man shakes his head, staring at you as if you are crazy. “Riding in this rain is far too precarious for a lady. The horse could slip, or a peal of thunder could cause him to buck. I couldn’t let you endanger yourself.”

“Then I’ll walk.”

You ignore his protests. It doesn’t matter to you that you are unchaperoned. You don’t mind that the walk will be at least three miles. Your mind is made up, and you will not be deterred.

It doesn’t take long for you to regret your decision. Walking against the wind means that the rain is being pelted directly into your face. You are soaked to the bone, and with the temperature continuing to drop, you find yourself shivering despite the exertion of moving forward. Your dress feels several pounds heavier now, weighing you down and threatening to trip you as it catches beneath your feet with each step.

The howling of the wind completely drowns out the sound of a horse galloping towards you. It isn’t until the animal is nearly upon you that you realize that you are directly in its path. Stumbling to the side, you wait for the rider to continue on his way past you.

Instead, the horse is drawn to an abrupt halt directly in front of you. The animal side steps nervously, tossing its head to show its disapproval of having been stopped so suddenly. But the rider only pats its neck soothingly as he dismounts, his attention solely on you. You feel a lump in your throat as you recognize him.

“Sakusa.”

“What the hell are you doing out here? Alone, and in this downpour no less! Are you trying to catch pneumonia?” He takes one look at your soaked, shivering form, and hastily begins unbuttoning his overcoat. When he drapes it over your shoulders, you are surprised to find that it is miraculously still dry on the inside. Pulling it tight around you, you let its warmth- his warmth- seep into you.

“My carriage is stuck in the mud,” you explain, although the chatter of your teeth makes speaking difficult.

The man simply stares at you, incredulously. “So you decided to walk?” He worries his lip between his teeth, obviously contemplating something. “I know this… it isn’t proper. But I can’t leave you out here to catch your death. Let me take you to Motoya’s estate. You can get warm and dry, and then I’ll send you home when the storm lets up.”

No. The word is at the tip of your tongue. There are so many reasons why you should say it. It is risky enough to be alone with him like this on the street, but to ride with him? To be alone with him for such a long amount of time, unchaperoned? It would ruin you, and your whole family, if anyone caught wind of it. And on top of that, there is the unresolved tension between the two of you. You aren’t sure if you can handle being so close to him.

But you can feel your fingers and toes beginning to go numb. The warmth of his coat isn’t enough to stop your shivering, and you know that it is only a matter of time before you succumb to the elements. Even if you could make it home before then, he is right that you are likely to fall ill if you stay in the rain for much longer.

“You- you won’t tell anyone?” you ask, timidly.

Placing his hand on his chest, he gives you a somber nod. “You have my word. I would never allow your reputation to be tainted.”

Doubt is still nagging in the back of your mind, but it is overshadowed by your desire to be warm and dry. So you nod, giving in. Sakusa’s hands are like fire as they settle on your waist so that he can lift you up onto the horse. And when he swings into the saddle behind you, arms coming around you on either side to grasp the reins, you feel your breath catch in your throat. It isn’t exactly an embrace, but something very close to one. It feels sinful… forbidden… wonderful.

“Excuse my touch. I simply want to ensure that you don’t fall,” he mumbles. His breath warms your ear as he speaks, and a shiver goes down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

The ride to Komori’s estate is thankfully a short one. Sakusa is quick to usher you inside, concern written clearly across his face as you stumble forward. You kneel in front of the crackling fire he starts in the hearth, stretching your hands towards it to welcome its warmth into your numb fingers.

“You’ll need to get out of those wet clothes,” he mumbles, averting his eyes as his cheeks visibly redden. “I’m afraid I don’t have any suitable clothing to lend you. Of course I’ll hang your dress to dry, but until then, all I can offer you is some of my own clothing.”

At the suggestion of wearing his clothes, you feel the blood drain from your face. But at this point, is there really any point in rejecting his offer? You have already allowed yourself to be put in a position where you are alone with him. And even with the heat from the fireplace, your soaked clothing continues to sap your body heat, leaving you chilled.

So you allow him to lead you into a side room, accepting the shirt he practically shoves into your arms before hastily turning to flee. Once you have shut and locked the door behind you, you can’t help but lift the garment and inhale its scent. Like the man itself, there is no strong distinct smell. It is simply a clean linen scent, a little soapy perhaps.

Fumbling with the fastenings of your dress proves more difficult than you had expected. Your fingers are sore by the time you have finally shed all of your outer layers. After a moment of hesitation, you decide to simply ring out your undergarments and then put them back on. They are still slightly damp, but at least you feel a bit less exposed while wearing them. And over those, you button Sakusa’s shirt. It is noticeably tight in places, especially your chest, and falls only to your mid-thigh, providing barely any modesty at all. But it is better than nothing, you suppose.

When you open the door, you find a blanket folded on the floor. Wrapping it around your body, you manage to properly cover yourself. Of course, you are sure that you look ridiculous. But it is warm, and keeps you from revealing too much skin.

Sakusa is waiting for you in front of the fireplace, dressed casually in fresh clothing. His hair is still damp, messy curls clinging to his forehead no matter how many times he tries pushing them back. When you enter the room, his lips part, eyes lowering to take in your entire form before he remembers himself and averts them.

“Please, make yourself at home. Sit and warm yourself by the fire.” He gestures to a chair, waiting for you to lower yourself into it before seating himself.

An awkward silence stretches between the two of you. The atmosphere is suddenly stifling, and you wonder if perhaps you made a mistake in coming here with him. Sneaking a glance in his direction, you feel your chest tighten as you realize that he is already staring at you.

“Why did you reject me?” He blurts the question impulsively with no preamble. “Is it simply because I lack amiability? If I have done anything to offend you-”

“No,” you breathe the word, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, Sakusa, you did nothing wrong. It’s me.” Tears prick at your eyes, and you angrily swipe them away before they can fall. “I’m beneath you. There are so many others, women much more suitable for marriage.”

He frowns. And then he stands, only to kneel at your feet. You gasp at his boldness as he takes your hand in his, lifting it to his mouth and kissing each knuckle with such tenderness that it leaves you aching. “But I don’t care for other women. For me, there is only you. And if you are not by my side, then I shall spend my days a miserable bachelor.”

“You truly care for me?”

“I do.”

“And you… you weren’t merely trying to propose out of obligation?”

His expression softens as understanding dawns. “Oh, beloved. Is that what you thought?” He doesn’t wait for your confirmation. Turning your hand over, he kisses your palm before resting it on his face and leaning into your touch. “Let me assuage your fears. I am most desperately in love with you. It is for the sake of my love that I most humbly request your hand in marriage.”

“Yes.” You lean forward, your free hand cupping the other side of his face and drawing it to yours. Trembling lips touch for but a moment, a promise of so much more to come. “Yes, Sakusa, I’ll marry you.” “Call me Kiyoomi.” He stands, pulling you with him so that he can encircle you in his arms. “After all, you are to be my wife. Mrs. Sakusa.”

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tsumwriter · 2 years

Text

to devote

{knight!Kita Shinsuke x princess!reader}

Written for Laura @ohtokki ♡

Summary: for him, to be with you is a prohibition, but he's determined enough to cross the line (cw: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, breeding, mention of blood and alcohol)

Never in your life have you seen Kita Shinsuke in this state. He tried to keep his stoic facade, his lips pursed tightly to keep the words from falling.

The eyes are the windows to the soul. You see in your beloved's eyes his heart falls to the ground, breaking apart slowly. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes blinking frequently to avoid mourning.

He gulped in disbelief, "What do you mean, Your Highness?"

"As I said before."

"I-"

You sweep your gaze across the hall, making sure no one is watching over you.

"I'm going to get married soon. The King, His Majesty, has given His words."

You pause, biting the inside of your lower lips.

"We should end this-"

Your eyes are burning but with all your might, you try to look into your lover's eyes with all determination left in the corner of your heart. This should be the right time to break your secret relationship with the knight commander.

Your heart aches. Your feet are cuffed by the heavy weight of the crown, a price you have to pay as a part of royals. You live a sumptuous life, get the best education and all the magnificent gems, but your circle and social life are merely a political party.

Kita Shinsuke, the commander of the royal knights, never broke the rules once. Always chivalrous and honorable, with gallant manners and speech. Firm as a rock but kind as a dove, virtue shown in his actions. His comrades were loyal to him as he served the kingdom.

Kita is your father's favorite. He appointed him to be your personal guardian for some important ceremonial events, where you got closer to each other for the first time. Not only for his notable skill across the country. He had shown his loyalty during the revolt.

Cold eyes pierced the remains of his opponents, his hands and sword were stained with someone else's blood. The entire kingdom spoke of a ruthless knight commander, with fox eyes that would frighten every member of the forest. The rumor has it, never been a witness on how they turned warm to his closest one, and tender, especially to you.

It must be a major sin for you, the princess of the kingdom, His Majesty's one and only precious daughter, to grow such emotions in him, to intoxicate him with a strange infatuation. He had tasted alcohol all over the country but was never drunk. It wasn't like your smile that made him falter, not like your voice which melodiously and politely asked him.

You bear a forbidden fruit, the moment you caressed his face and innocently planted a kiss on his cheek when he was kneeling before you to devote his life unto you. When instead of taking his sword and ordaining the sacrament, you asked him to stand up and said you wanted to claim his heart with the sweetest smile poured like honey.

His heart and life have been bestowed on you. A respectful kiss on the back of your hand turned into a passionate kiss on your untouched lips under the moonlight. His hands rested casually on your side during the rendezvous on a starry night with his lips ghosted over your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "May I?" was all the words that you remembered clearly, resonated before they became hazy and you lost in the night.

Kita was the one who always been courteous, asking for your consent before he touched you. With eyes darkened and lingered a little too long beyond your eyes. He gestured whether it was okay to untie your corset, for his lips to explore your mounds, or to fill your inside with his secretion.

But you always burned for his touch, wanting him to call you by your name, instead of addressing Your Highness. The moment 'Shin' escaped from your mouth was when he knew he would do anything for you to call his name all over again, both in the softest or in the most sinful tone. You have him wrapped around your fingers.

That night you let all your emotions free. Kita benevolently helped you to undo the corset, unraveling the layers before sliding down your undergarments. He was in awe the moment you shied away with your hand trying to cover your intimate part as much as you can. He whispered with the softest mellifluous voice, telling you're the most beautiful girl in this land.

You eased, encouraging him by tugging his silver black hair when his lips were on your mounds, nipping your sensitive buds. Your mind was on cloud nine, with his fingers sliding into your fold. Your downside was drenched already by the stimulation. You muffled your whimper with the satin-covered pillow, whispering your secret about how much you love the man before you.

Your name slipped out his mouth the moment he thrust into you. Brown eyes locked with yours, his heavy breath tickled your skin when he nestled his head on your clavicle. The man became undone and vulnerable under your touch. You traced his toned torso and reached up to leave featherlight kisses on his scar, letting him know he was just as beautiful. Making love to him was fireworks of emotions.

You gasped the moment he pushed his full length unto you, kissing your cervix deliciously. The view of you stammering and chanting his name repetitively was heavenly. He stifled your cries with a kiss on your velvety lips. He went feral, aiming for the part that sent you to see the stars. His low moans and grunts dissipated into the cold night air. The thrust became slower and deeper before the knot within you untangled.

Oh, how glorious it is to see you in such a state under the chandelier. The king would certainly execute him right away if he discovered, with his head hanging at the entrance of the palace - the very idea caused him to shudder. But your sweetness was too dreamy that his mind went blank. He can't think anything more than to let you cum all over again and fills you up, his stamina was more than enough to rail you the entire night. He soothes your figure, reassuringly tracing your spine and kissing you goodnight. You were sleeping soundly in his arm before he left the room.

What if your father found out? You questioned. The night of passion left you both with fluttery feelings and fear. As much as you longed for him there would never be a chance for you to obtain his blessings. The knight won't get the right to marry the princess.

You know beyond his reserved facade, Kita really loves his job. If someone learned about your secret relationship, he will be despised. Not only expelled from his rank but he will also be banished from the kingdom. He might be accused of seducing the princess.

"May I have your assurance that you will be happy, Your Highness?"

He asks with concern. Even if it crushes him, he'll let you be as your happiness is his priority.

You avoid his soft gaze with teary eyes, clenching your fist.

"I have to-," your voice croaked, not really answering the question. 'I want to be with you' is what the heart really whispers.

He takes your cold hand delicately, brushing his lips against your knuckle. Kneeling before you, he still held your hand with grace.

"I would do anything for you. All my lines and rules. They mean nothing when it comes to you. It’d cross and break them all just to make you happy."

Kita is a man of his word and he never failed to show his devotion.

Your happiness is being with him, on how your eyes gleam in his sight. When you talk about mundane things like the sound of the bird in the morning or share the part of the poet you really love. Or when you trace an imaginary line across the stars telling him about the asterism. He will protect them at all costs.

You see the determination in his eyes.

"I fear not of anything. Say again, would you stay in this royal palace or run away with me, my love?"

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tsumwriter · 2 years

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🥰

atsumu is in love with you.

hopelessly, mindlessly, stupidly in love with you—and it took this little coffee shop to realize that.

he knew he liked you before—knew your smile was pretty and your laugh was bright and there was something about you that he couldn’t quite get over—but now, as you sit beside him, if you told him you put the stars in the sky he’d probably believe you.

“you’re kidding,” you say, elbows on the table, swirling your mug between your fingers. “there’s no way you’re on the top bunk.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you just—“ you hum, tilting your head to the side. “you strike me as a bottom bunk kinda guy.”

“a bottom bunk kinda guy?” he looks hurt—betrayed even.

“yeah, you know.” he doesn’t. “you just look like you’d be on the bottom bunk.”

and he laughs, “that’s definitely an insult.”

“now i never said that. i just think it’d suit you.”

he opens his mouth to respond, but at the twist of his features, you laugh. it’s warm and pretty and something so much like home that it makes him want to rip the sheets right off that top bunk just to hear it again.

“you’re funny ‘tsumu, you know that?” you draw your mug towards your lips, painting your cheeks in steam and if his mind wasn’t so drawn in by the sound of your voice, he’d ask if he could kiss you.

“so i’ve been told,” he muses.

“oh really, by who? all the other girls you take out?”

“yep,” he grins. “every one of ‘em.”

you eye him, a devilish little smile drawing across your face.

“do you tell all of them that you sleep in a bunk bed?”

and he can’t contain his laughter anymore—soft breaths spilling from his lips. “only the ones i like.”

“oh, so you like me?” you hum.

and maybe it’s the whisper of your voice or the hum of the air or the swirling scent of this coffee shop—but atsumu wants to tell you that ‘like’ isn’t quite the word. that maybe there’s something more to this and something more to you—and maybe he wants to hold your hand and walk you home and let him see his stupid little bunk bed because he knows it’d make you laugh.

but he bites his cheeks and holds his tongue, pretty white teeth flashing with the pull of his lips.

“i do, actually. a lot more than you’d think.”

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tsumwriter · 2 years

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YOU PRACTICE VOLLEYBALL IN FRONT OF HIM

he's simply more smitten once he watches you play with the ball and he can't help but join you and enjoy the moment.

miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurou, iwaizumi hajime x reader

tooth-rotting fluff, implied fem!reader in iwaizumi's (dad!iwaizumi basically, usage of mommy and mama)

☆ atsumu opened the door to your shared apartment and tiredly yawned. he called out your name and placed his car keys down. he waited until you called back for you but he didn’t get a response. he looked around the main section of the apartment. he called out your name and placed his gym bag down, heading towards the bedroom. he opened the door and found you self-setting. he gaped his mouth open in shock, not able to process how good you were at the drill. you turned your head and smiled at him, taking the ball in your hands before gently bumping it towards him. “hi ‘tsumu,” you said as atsumu caught the volleyball and looked down. “where’d you learn how to do that?” he asked and you simply shrugged, motioning towards him. “you always do it before dinner, i wanted to see the hype. it’s kinda fun” you hum and make your way towards him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “any pointers, top setter of all of japan?” you grinned as you watched atsumu’s face turn a dark red. “that sounds amazing coming from your lips,” he mutters, feeling slightly embarrassed as he returns the kiss. “let’s play at the park and i’ll give you those pointers there, c’mon” he urges you out of the bedroom and you laugh, letting him drag you out to the front door. “but we haven’t even had dinner, ‘tsumu.” he shrugs and grabs your jacket, waiting for you to put your shoes on. “we can order takeout, i wanna see my baby in action,” he took your hand with a smile and you both began to walk out the apartment.

☆ kuroo walked out of his home office to grab another cup of coffee, he walked over to the kitchen and pressed the button on the coffee machine, letting it brew. “hey sweetheart, i think we need to buy more coffee,” he called out to you, getting a thud in return. he furrowed his eyebrows and looked over at the sound. he spotted you receiving the ball and letting it roll towards the kitchen. he reached to pick it up and smirked. “since when did you start practicing, hm?” he walked towards you and tossed the ball towards you and watched you receive the ball. “i saw the ball in the closet and gave it a try, it reminded me of you back in highschool,” you smiled at him and he chuckled. he kissed your cheek and ruffled your hair gently. “aw, my sweetheart is thinking of me? how adorable,” you laughed and admitted it with no hesitation. he then moved to stand in front of you, tossing the ball once more and you bumped it, to which kuroo received back to you. the both of you continued the rally silently before you caught the ball and looked at him. “baby, you need to go back to work,” you pointed out and he shrugged in return. “that can wait, you’re more interesting to look at than a white screen.” he smiled and urged you to continue the rally, which you agreed to. “never knew you watched me so intently during highschool,” you rolled your eyes and smiled. “volleyball just happened to be more interesting if you were playing it,” you simply stated and kuroo blushed at your comment, ignoring the ball that bounced in front of him and engulfed you into a bear hug. “how cute can you get?”

☆ iwaizumi picked up your child once he came home from work and peppered him with kisses. he grinned and held him in his arms as he set his bag down and went to the living room. “where’s mommy?” he asked and he pointed out to the backyard to where you were spiking a ball against the fence. he widened his eyes in surprise and opened the door to the backyard, walking over to you. you noticed him and smiled, “hi haji, how was work?” you asked and caught the ball in your hands to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “it was the same, where’d you find the volleyball?” he motioned to the ball in your hands and you looked down at it. “i found it while cleaning out the basement. akiko wanted to play, so we did a few hours before he wanted to nap,” you softly spoke and akiko urged iwaizumi to put him down. “i wanna play with mama again!” he exclaimed, which iwaizumi chuckled to and put his son down, watching him run away with the ball and you followed. he watched the both of you play and akiko turned to his father. “play with us dada!” he nodded and went beside him, receiving it towards you. “i think our son is going pro, lovely.” iwaizumi chuckled and nods as he watched his son spike the ball. “of course, it’s in the iwaizumi blood.” you cheered for akiko when he successfully spiked and iwaizumi couldn’t help but smile in adoration at the both of you while you continued to play volleyball as the sun began to set. oh, how lucky he was to have such an amazing wife and son in his life.

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tsumwriter · 2 years

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Saturday Sunset | Miya Atsumu

Synopsis: You’re an attorney for MSBY, taking your annual leave to dwell in the silence beyond your first love’s goodbye, while Atsumu is that someone who arrives in noise. They say august knew love wasn’t theirs to have, and Atsumu knows the same, but still, he stays, hoping that sunset’s gold is enough of a bargain for you to let him.

Characters: Miya Atsumu, Kuroo Tetsurou WC: 7400+

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This was commed by @tsumtsumland aka the love of my life my best gworl shan <33 thank u for feeding the RDY ppl hasjkda

> A fic inspired by the Redefining You series <

commissions (reopened to save up for work laptop!) | ko-fi

Boracay, Philippines

Miya Atsumu sees you before you see him, because it’s always been that way.

Of all the places you could have arrived at, he wonders why he catches you here—now—when he knows your office has always been at the second floor of MSBY’s main building. At most, you’ve just been a colleague whose name comes and goes in passing conversation. From his point of view, you’re the face of structure. Expected pattern.

You’re a constant in one face in his life. The nine to five, with the business hours, work emails, and occupied seat during the team’s monthly meeting with every department.

So it’s funny that he’s the first to see you sitting just a few tables away from him, shoulders relaxed, and the look on your face at peace. Your form, a stark contrast to the version of you he’s been so accustomed to seeing during the weekdays he pops in at your department’s office.

Unsure if whether he’s welcome enough to say hello, for now he keeps the boundary untouched. The space between the both of you remain as is—existing like a thick line in the sand.

Keep reading

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tsumwriter · 2 years

Photo

my neighbor totoro

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tsumwriter · 2 years

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Onions aren’t the only reason why we cry

Summary: Osamu has some important news to share with his friends and it results in group tears and a group hug

Word count: 1.3k

Genre: fluff; reader is referred to as she/her; Inarizaki shenanigans

There’s a rare delicateness in the air after you’ve closed the door. Osamu’s friends had picked up on his apprehension, waiting with bated breath when he whispered ‘I have something to tell ya guys’ the first time you disappeared from the kitchen to grab your bag and now that you’ve closed the door and officially left the apartment, everyone waits impatiently.

Atsumu taps his feet, antsy, and Suna cannot help but close and reopen apps aimlessly on his phone. Kita, whose idle hands are usually disciplined, rip napkins to even pieces and Aran has resorted to pacing the living room.

Osamu steps out of his slippers and slides down the wooden flooring with socked feet and stealth. He places a careful hand to the doorframe to stabilize himself and tilts to the side. One index finger pulls a singular blind down that has Atsumu counting seconds. It’s not until he gets to eight does Osamu turn around with a breath of relief.

“Alright,” he heaves, and just that breath balances the heavy pressure in the air, “she’s gone.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Atsumu starts muttering under his breath. He begins pacing with Aran, hands on his hips and eyes downward. Osamu wants to tell him to calm down but even he can’t steady the beating in his heart.

“I can’t take this!” Aran’s the first to break, lashing out. “Come on now. Out with what ya got to say.”

Kita takes a calm hand and grabs his old friend’s wrist. The simple touch calms Aran down, but with the words out in the air, Osamu’s garnered everyone’s rapt attention.

“Spill when ya ready,” Kita offers, “but just know ya driving us crazy.” Then he nudges Suna with his foot, “Keep 119 ready. I feel like Tsumu’s seconds away from passing out.”

Suna grunts in accord, nimble fingers tapping the screen while eyes follow Atsumu who is no longer contained in the living room, venturing the whole perimeter of Osamu’s apartment, mutterings trailing behind him.

Osamu walks back to the kitchen, bracing his hands on the edge of the island before bending his elbows and leaning down on it. The cold stone is hard against his belly and so he stands, crossing his arms across his chest. Nothing feels comfortable.

“You’re making me anxious,” Suna shifts in his seat.

“Fuck, sorry, shit,” Osamu says, using his foot to slide his joggers down. “I’m nervous because fuck, when I say it, it’s gonna be real.”

Atsumu’s done a full round and he’s back in the kitchen. Osamu takes one final breath and he glances at the friends that have gathered at his table, the ones he knows he wants by his side now and forever.

Suna still has his phone in his hands, obviously peeved even if he’s doing his best to remain expressionless. Kita is seated next to him and he’s taken to tracing the condensation on his glass. Aran is statuesque beside them, standing with his arms crossed, head down, and eyes closed. His jaw flexes at every breath and he sincerely looks like he might explode from anticipation. Lastly, he meets his brother’s eyes. They’re expectant and Osamu can assume he already knows what he’s going to say, gaze glassy and ready. Before Atsumu can escape to pacing again, he pulls his brother to his side, an arm around his shoulder, strength renewed at Atsumu’s touch.

When the bones of their hips bump, Atsumu immediately stiffens at the feel of it. He looks at his brother, wide, golden eyes full of hope. They speak paragraphs in a single second glance, and with a nod, he fills the rest of his friends in.

Osamu reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet box. The pull is magnetic as he and all his friends lean over the table to gather a closer glimpse.

“I’m going to propose. She’s the love of my life and I can’t imagine a life without her,” Osamu murmurs. When he looks up, he finds out that diamonds aren’t the only things that glitter. Tears gather in his friend’s gazes. They build in his too. Love comes in various ways, he realizes, and he’s very lucky to experience it in all aspects of his life.

“Fuck, I knew it! I knew it!” Atsumu wails, clinging both arms around his brother’s neck and sobbing into his shoulder, “I just knew ya was gonna say something like this but dammit, I didn’t expect ya to have the ring already.”

Aran’s beside them, lips in a trembling line, doing his best to withhold his outburst and be the rock he’s always been all their lives. He rubs a hand up and down Atsumu’s back. “Calm yaself. This is ya brother’s moment. It ain’t yours.”

Atsumu turns to cry into their childhood friend’s chest, “I’m just so happy. They’re perfect for each other.”

“I know,” Aran agrees. Osamu meets his gaze, “we knew the moment ya two met. Ya two are good for each other.”

“Stop, ya guys are making me emotional.” Osamu catches a tear with his index finger, but breaks when Aran’s finally slips past his lash line.

“Damn it” Aran warbles, “thought I could hold it in.”

“Keep going,” Suna stands so he has a better view, veering his camera over the fruit bowl in the middle of the table and zooming in on Atsumu’s pink face, “this is perfect content right here.”

“Turn that camera around!” Atsumu berates though it’s muffled by Aran’s chest, “I know ya crying over there, too!”

“We all are. Ain’t no reason to be ashamed,” Kita says calmly. He moves to Osamu’s side and grips his shoulder. Maybe it’s the recognition from his captain that has another fat tear running down Osamu’s cheek. He looks down at the box in the restauranteur’s hand, “ya made a good choice. Rock and partner.”

“Yeah?” Osamu asks.

Kita chuckles quietly, “ya second guessing now?”

“Not even,” Osamu shakes his head, “I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

“Good.”

They’re too caught up in the moment that they register you opening the door way too late. Five pairs of teary eyes look at you, growing wide with what you assume is embarrassment.

“I forgot my wallet. Am I–” the incredulity of the situation interrupts you. Atsumu’s a mess and Osamu’s shuffling in his spot, ducking his head down as Kita stands in front of him. “–am I interrupting something?”

“No, not at all,” Kita says.

“Are you sure? You guys are crying.”

“Osamu was cutting onions,” Suna answers coolly, dropping his phone back into his jacket pocket.

You give him a perplexed expression and take tentative steps into the kitchen. Osamu pops back up with eyes rimmed with red.

“Where are the onions?” you direct the question to your boyfriend. With how weird all his friends are acting, his answer is the only one you trust.

“Threw them away,” Suna replies quickly.

“What?” you glance around now but it seems none of the boys can meet your eyes. “Why would you do that?”

You reach for Osamu’s face. His hand meets you halfway, placing it on his chest, “was making us cry too much.”

“In this economy?”

“In this economy?” Atsumu repeats, your words prompting more tears to fall. He latches onto you, your shoulder quickly going damp from his hot breath, “God, ya so stupid. I love ya.”

“What the–?”

You can’t even finish your sentence when Aran pulls all three of you in. Kita joins and now you’re flush against Osamu’s chest. It’s muggy and none of them can stop sniffling. Suna finally completes the group hug and the group of you simply stand there in the kitchen.

You look up at Osamu, helpless and in need of answers. He simply replies with a quiet, lovesick smile. You notice then, that even he, the experienced chef he is, the one that brags about how he’s immune to the power of onions, has tears pooling in his eyes.

“Let ‘em be,” he places a tender kiss to your temple, “just wanna show ya that we love ya.”

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