Hi, I'm Moreighna, but you can call me Rei. I'm an artist and writer. I make content for multiple fandoms and even my own ocs from time to time. I can be found on TikTok, YouTube, Pinterest and– under the same user name: @m0reighn4 .
My okays:
Fluff
Smut
Angst
Character x reader
Character x character (not limited to 1 fandom per request)
Canon character x oc
Oc x reader
My not okays:
NSFW of minors
Incest
Stepcest
Explicit SA (especially not as a fetish)
Content on real people (especially smut)
The fandoms I write for (with masterlists included):
☆ Lolirock
☆ My Hero Academia
☆ Black Butler
☆ Jujutsu Kaisen
☆ Demon Slayer
☆ Demonic Suitors
☆ Danganronpa
☆ Attack on Titan
☆ Ouran High School Host Club
☆ The Disastrous Life Of Saiki K
☆ Genshin Impact
☆ Honkai Star Rail
☆ Wuthering Waves
☆ Chainsaw Man
☆ Love and Deepspace
☆ Hunter x Hunter
☆ Bungou Stray Dogs
☆ One Punch Man
☆ Spy x Family
☆ Rising Impact
☆ Blue Lock
☆ Dandadan
☆ Mashle
☆ Sakamoto Days
☆ The Apothecary Diaries
☆ Frieren
☆ My Happy Marriage
☆ Toilet-bound Hanako-kun
☆ May I ask for one final thing
☆ Gachiakuta
☆ Sin and Redemption (my ocs)
So if you ever do feel like making any requests, feel free to choose amongst those. Thank you for reading. Please enjoy the rest of your day 😘🤍
Please note that I am running multiple social media accounts and am busy with school. So fulfilling requests will take some time. Please be mindful and patient when making requests. Furthermore, properly written fanfics will take longer than headcannons. The same goes for smut.
Also note that you are allowed to send random asks. I'm open to that! 😋
And I doubt this HAS to be said, but will be anyway: please do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate without at least asking first. I'll always say no to the ai, but am open to allowing reposts and translations with explicit permission and credits. 🤍
You know, being in the BLLK space, I've learnt that there is no such thing as an unanimous agreement. We all seem to have very different takes on everything.
Unless your name is Teddy Knight. Nobody likes that guy.
Forwarded: when you get this, (if you want to!) list 5 songs you like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to the last 10 people in your notifs (positivity is cool!!) [really]
(Higuruma Hiromi x female reader) 18+ only, no minors.
Higuruma was a man of autonomy. He couldn't be tied down by the most impossible cases, yet he was about to bind himself into a marriage with you.
❧ arranged marriage, angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety & anxiety attacks, overthinking, insecurities, hesitation, slow burn, curses, takes place before Higuruma fully awakens as a sorcerer, eventual smut, reader has a vagina. 18+ only, no minors.
previous | fic masterlist | AO3 | taglist
!! do not make AI bots of my fic/put it into AI !!
Thank you for your patience, I am later than usual due to personal situations and life - glad to be back.
You'd never seen Hiromi do anything with so much urgency the way he kissed you.
His body turned toward you. Up close, he looked wonderfully reclined from the evening. The collar of his white shirt was left open, revealing the warm line of his throat, and soft brunette strands escaped across his forehead.
Large fingers settled against your jaw, while his thumb gripped your chin.
You let him guide you.
His kiss was desperate, like he'd spent days arguing with himself.
Your breath caught when his lips parted yours, his tongue slipping in.
Tongues swirled together, like fire finding fresh air.
You wanted to taste the red wine on his tongue for the rest of your life and be eternally drunk off of him.
He let you breathe when he seemed to need the air himself, forehead resting against yours. Your lashes brushed against his cheek, breathing through your nose.
You found yourself inching closer. The small touch of your knee grazing his thigh made him snap.
He lifted you onto his lap with effortless strength. Your legs settled on either side of him as he kissed you again.
It was your hands that slipped into the hair at the back of his head, but he was trying to lose himself somewhere inside of you. It was evident in how he pulled you in, unless it was also you swaying your body into his and drifting impossibly closer.
"Hm…." The sound escaped you without realizing.
His breathing became uneven when he pulled back, chest slowly raising.
Wide brown eyes lingered, drifting over your swept face and settling on your swollen lips.
His arms loosened around your waist but never left - as did yours around his neck.
"Was this your plan?"
You blinked, trying to remember how to speak amidst your breaths, mixed with his.
"Get me vulnerable and relaxed," he continued.
A faint smile ghosted across your mouth. "I offered the wine, you bought the beers at the restaurant."
His eyes closed with a chuckle, before resting his head back against the sofa.
Your own gaze became dangerous without his on you. You wanted to bite his neck and leave marks all over.
Instead, you lifted your fingers to brush your own lips.
"What, never been kissed before?" he murmured, eyes opening.
You dropped your hand.
"Haven't you?" you laughed.
In thought, his smile faltered. "I either ignore you, or kiss you like I did."
Your heart skipped at the recitation of words you hadn't realized he'd carried since the onsen.
"I wasn't criticizing," you said, voice small.
His eyes searched yours below hooded eyelids.
"You haven't been ignoring me lately. You've been leaving for work much later and coming home earlier," you added, before hesitating, "And…you only kissed me once before."
His jaw twitched. "If that was enough to earn your affection, I'm not sure I deserve it."
Your hands trailed slowly down his shoulders, a brush of a touch compared to the massage moments ago.
His brows contorted at the action, only making him look more troubled.
"You're telling yourself that."
Under the skim of your fingers, his arms stiffened. "My mind is."
"And…your body?" you dared to ask, slightly regretting it as soon as it left your mouth.
"It's irrational," he simply said.
"When was the last time…" you trailed off.
"It's been years for me," he spoke, exasperated at the fact.
He wasn't someone to struggle with attracting women. You could only assume he'd denied himself for so long, the same way you'd done the same.
Aside from when you touched yourself to the mere thought of him.
His forehead found yours once again, pushing the memories out of your head.
The bridge of his nose brushed yours every time either of you exhaled.
"Then, it's not irrational," you whispered. "Trust me."
"The one I can't trust is myself."
It was true then, that desire sounded a lot less like hunger to him and more like a wound.
His body had reached for you a while ago, but his mind was still stood in the threshold and refused to cross.
You searched his face. The composure you'd mistook for distance now looked exhausted - splintering somewhere during this evening.
"Why?" you breathed.
"I don't want you to think that's why I've been around more lately."
"Of course not," you spoke. "I trust you."
Whatever had been eating at his insides seemed to fall silent, like he'd had no worries in the first place. There was no hesitation in his eyes anymore, only tenderness mixed with passion.
His mouth found yours again. Hands frantically wandered down your back, drawing you flat again him. There was not even room for doubt.
Your fingers disappeared into his brunette hair, tugging him whenever you thought he'd steal a breath.
You didn't realize your hips began moving, until you felt poking into your inner thigh.
Your lips faltered.
You'd never expected him to desire you, to touch you or even look at you.
Of course, it hadn't dawned upon you that this would make him hard.
Was it the first time he'd grown hard because of you?
How long, during this entire moment, had he been hard for?
The waves of heat had spread through you in slow and relentless waves. You were caught up in the warmth in your own stomach, to not entirely realize his.
He must have realized from the brush of your thigh, with how he jerked his hips back. Yet, there was nowhere to go when he was practically pinned against the couch.
"Wait," you breathed, before finally releasing his mouth for oxygen.
Your heads knocked together, as your gaze looked down and snuck a glance at the bulge.
His body slightly relaxed when your lips slipped into each other again, as you tried not to brush against him too much yet.
You couldn't remember when the living room became his bedroom.
Somewhere between one kiss and a few stumbles, the house seemed to arrange around you. The hallway disappeared under hurried footsteps, as you trailed along.
At some point, he'd shrugged out of his shirt and abandoned it somewhere behind you.
He shut the bedroom door behind him. Open curtains settled the evening around the blue walls, darkening the palette.
You'd only been in his room a few times; the time you'd found him in the bath and went to retrieve him towels, and whenever you briefly set laundry inside while he was at work.
You unconsciously retreated, until the backs of your knees met the ottoman at the end of his bed.
There was recklessness in the way he looked at you when your mouths parted.
You tumbled back, landing on the soft duvet.
The mattress dipped under one of his knees, and you trailed backwards with every draw closer.
Shadows outlined every flex of his body, hovering over you.
You tried to search the silhouette of his face, your head resting against his pillows.
Both of his hands planted on the pillow either side of your head and leaned down.
"Afraid of me now?" he whispered, earning a small chuckle out of you.
"Seems like you want that," you murmured.
His head tilted, neck exposed with his torso from this angle.
"Not afraid…" you continued, as you'd done in the onsen, "But relieved."
"Relieved?"
It was your turn to close your eyes, because there was nowhere to look when he was on top of you. "I've been…."
Starved.
"Waiting for this," you said instead, even if it was just as pathetic.
The dip and rumple of the fabric beside your head caught your attention, followed by the weight of his lower half slightly relaxing onto you. It wasn't enough to feel his bulge against you again.
When you opened your eyes, you were met with the ceiling.
You turned your head. Hiromi pressed his face into the pillow above your shoulder, shielding himself from both temptation and guilt.
"I'm sorry." The words were muffled by the pillow.
Your hands, that momentarily felt useless, found their way around his head. Instead of tugging the strands into a kiss, you kept your fingers at the back of his hair.
"You're here now."
At your words, his head turned. His eyes were hurt and pleading at once.
You couldn't help but trail your touch around to his jaw, holding his gaze for a second before pulling his mouth to yours again.
A part of you wondered if this was all impulsive and fast.
Until, he tugged and struggled to pull your pants off.
He took out his frustration on your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses and bites at once.
The sounds against your skin made your stomach heat at what it really sounded like.
You rose your hips. He caught your waist and finally got the pants off.
He knelt on the ottoman now, where you began to already feel withdrawal from the lack of his lips. It felt like an act of both surrender and deference to you.
The withdrawal didn't last as long as you expected, when he lifted your ankle and dropped a kiss to it, long and deep. He switched to the other foot, doing the same.
"If you want me to stop," he started, voice husky, "tell me at any point."
The words that were comforting from his side, only ignited the desire in you till you were about to burst.
His expression already looked blissed, glancing between your legs and back up to your eyes. You were certain you were soaked through your panties.
You couldn't trust your voice, opting for a clear nod instead.
He nodded in response, before bracing himself with a sigh.
Suddenly, you were exposed to the air.
He tugged off your panties, not wasting any more time.
Lingering eyes and hands on your waist made the air feel thick, despite the evening beyond the windows.
Fingers dragged up to the hem of your top. His brow arched, but you didn't protest.
Your shoulders lifted from the bed slightly, reaching behind to unclasp your bra.
He leaned over between your legs and gently peeled off the loose garment.
His jaw clenched.
Dark eyes trailed down your nude body, lingering at your bare breasts and draping you in his repression.
"Always beautiful," he said, softly.
He lifted your hips, making you almost jump.
Then, your legs were guided over his shoulders. You were folded, as he moved closer to embrace you between your legs.
You didn't need to use your muscles, with how his hands gripped under your thighs and positioned for his use.
You felt yourself dampen even more. You could feel it between your thighs since you'd kissed on the couch.
He dove for your inner thighs, kissing and biting along them.
It was fleeting, until the few testing licks to your clit. You lightly gasped.
The pressure was just right, lacking subtlety and as though you'd mounted him to grind down yourself.
His lips wrapped around the throbbing clit. He sucked and tasted you harshly, like you were a taste of wine that needed to be savored.
"Ah…." your breath hitched.
His tongue trailed through your pool of wetness, dipping in and tasting at your entrance.
"Soaked," he mumbled, the word vibrating against you.
You slightly squirmed, and he lifted your legs even higher to still you in place.
He inhaled, nose pressed at your entrance. Heat crept up your neck in embarrassment.
"Open up for me," he murmured.
You attempted to relax your walls, clenching around nothing from anticipation.
Instead of his tongue, however, he brushed his index finger over your clit - before lightly circling at your entrance.
His thick finger probed the wet arousal, sliding in.
You threw your head back, eyes closing. It pumped you a few times, testing and massaging your tight musles inside. It was a million times better than when you touched yourself.
Your hand reached out amidst the darkness behind your eyelids, frantically searching for something you weren't sure of.
A hand intertwined with yours, large and enclosing. You mindlessly caressed along it, as your hips circled with his ministrations inside you.
The hold eventually parted, when both of his hands clutched back to your thighs.
His mouth replaced his finger, so sudden for you to process.
Your eyes flew open, head lifting in shock.
Sounds of wet sucking and swirling filled the room, drenched in arousal.
"You taste delectable," he sighed.
His tongue spread your folds, before entering deep inside you.
He hungrily licked and slurped, like he hadn't eaten earlier on. You weren't sure you'd ever heard a sound so wanton before.
The motions were quick and unpredictable against your muscles. His tongue was either slipping in and out of you, or circling and massaging around inside.
You thought you'd already realized that his mouth was both tender and rough, but this was a different story.
Moans and whines fell out of you, adding to sounds of your arousal soaking the air.
You fidgeted, before your legs loosely crossed around his neck.
"Hiromi," you groaned, palming the sheets.
You rolled your hips back into his mouth.
His thumb found your clit, rubbing in punishing circles. Your stomach curled.
"These hips of yours," he mumbled, before delving back.
His tongue fucked you like there was a time limit to how long he'd have you for. He was frantic, burying his head into you deeper.
Your fingers felt desperate again, reaching out to tug at his hair. At the pull, you'd angled him in a way that his nose brushed your clit with every bob.
You were pulsing and throbbing on his tongue. With a few more flicks of his tongue, you could come at any moment.
You shook your head quickly, and released his hair.
"Hiromi, please," you gasped, managing to speak. "I don't want…to come yet."
He pulled his mouth out of you with a slight pop, disheveled.
Although, you absolutely could.
"I want it to be with you first," the words fell out of you.
Wide irises dilated, a look of shock washing over him.
His lips were red and glistening with arousal.
He gave a nod, letting out a shaky breath and kneeling up.
He licked his lips, savoring the taste of you before hovering forward and capturing your mouth.
You sighed against the embrace, tasting yourself against him. Hands grabbed at your jaw and shoulder, while his chest brushed against your neglected nipples.
Fabric grazed against yours thighs. He was still in his slacks.
Your fingers danced down his torso, a light and teasing skim. His mouth slowed.
It wasn't a struggle to unbutton his slacks. A pull, unzip and reach into the warm behind his briefs was all it took to make him jolt.
He pulled back from your lips, brown eyes flashing with surprise and intrigue.
The length took up your fist.
Throbbing, hard, warm and thick.
Before he could speak, you squeezed your hand around his cock.
The groan that left him was guttural.
"You don't know what you do to me, do you?" he choked.
Teeth grazed your collarbone, his head ducking and pliant into you.
You stroked up and down. The hold was fairly tight, not too much to suffocate him, but enough to feel the veins. Your thumb brushed over one, making it twitch.
"You don't have to…" he breathed, forehead pressing into your neck.
Your fingers twisted around his cock, other hand trailing to the back of his neck.
You circled the head of his twitching length, earning a quiver from him. There was the slight moisture of pre-cum that you spread around.
His body jerked, pulling back before you could really even start. Your hand slowly released.
Eyes dragged down you with astonishment, speechless.
It was like the Hiromi who'd used his tongue on you and the one you'd touched for only a moment were two different people.
Goosebumps rose against your nude body.
You felt overcome with need, rather than simply confident. You'd ardently desired him for what felt like so long, you didn't care how daring you were being.
He knelt up, between your legs. He managed to pull off his slacks and briefs, fully freeing his cock and legs.
Your first sight of it proved you right. Its length stood up, thick and raging with hardness because of you, glistening with pre-cum.
"I need to be inside you," he tensely declared, shoulders lowering with an exhale. "I'll get a condom."
You grabbed his wrist, your eyes looking up with want.
"You don't have to."
He stilled, eyes wavering. "Are you on the pill?"
You shook your head no.
Maybe, now that this had developed between you two, you needed to arrange a visit to the doctor.
His brows arched.
"It's up to you," you said quickly. "With or without protection…"
Although, it was clear which one you preferred.
"I'm not getting you pregnant," he said, matter-of-fact.
A light breath escaped you. "I'm not asking you to."
"Then, what, do you want me to pull out?"
Your silence spoke for you. His expression turned scandalized at the reckless idea.
"Is that what you young people do?" he asked, breaking the pause.
Your eyes lightly rolled. "Have you never pulled out before?"
He sighed, jaw twitching.
"Of course I have."
"If you want to use a condom, you can," you spoke with a nod, your consciousness catching up to your thrill. You realized how irresponsible it was to even suggest, even at your age. "I really don't mind."
He paused with contemplation, before his thin lips pressed together.
"I'll use a condom after this," he spoke.
Your head tipped in surprise. Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned such an irrational thing, but secretly, it was riveting to see him choose visceral need.
"I'll pull out of you," he promised, voice serious.
You were a terrible influence.
Then again, there was no other man you'd opened that offer to before.
Your legs unconsciously parted, as he shuffled forward.
His silhouette was a work of art hovering over you, in the evening light.
It wasn't dark enough to hide his eyes, that seemed to give him away nowadays. You realized how easy to read he'd become, while you were naked beneath him.
Face hovering closer, he pinned your arms up either side of you.
"When I'm with you," he started, slightly muted, "I feel so crazy."
You could only blink in response, hypnotized by his unfamiliar urge.
Anticipation ran through your veins, overcome with impatience.
Your pulse was frantic, nervous and ready to finally feel him.
He leaned back for a moment. You watched with awe, as one of his hands guided around his length.
He drew closer, rubbing the head through your juices and between your folds.
The sound was ungodly, at how much more soaked and drenched you were since he'd tasted you.
"I imagined this during the wedding," he admitted, breathy moans escaping him as he coated himself in your juices. "Or in the onsen the other day. But I didn't."
The night after the wedding, when he first showed you to your room, flashed through your mind. You thought you were the only one to have imagined being rejected by him.
It didn't matter anymore.
"It's okay," you breathed. "Please, take me now, Hiromi."
His nearness had its own gravity - an instinct to either flee or close the inches between you, although the former seemed impossible.
If he didn't put it in sooner, you'd roll over and sit on his length yourself.
He pushed in slowly.
The girth stretched you, far more than you would have expected after his finger and tongue.
You gasped, thighs clenching to fold your knees slightly.
His groan vibrated in your ears, deep from his throat.
"Relax," he mumbled.
You nodded, keeping eye contact with him as you loosened your walls, legs becoming slack again.
A hand curled around the back of your thigh, gently making his way in.
He hissed, inhaling through his teeth when he was only halfway in.
His eyes closed.
The breath escaped him deeply from the bottom of his lungs, soothing himself.
Your eyes widened slightly, examining him. "Are you alright?"
"You're suffocating me," he responded, through clenched teeth.
His head buried into the side of your neck, pushing his cock into you further. His chest lowered, another throaty groan escaping him.
It was like he'd been intoxicated. Drugged.
You moaned as he reached all the way inside of your wet and tight heat, to the hilt.
Arms rose up and wrapped around his neck, ultimately pulling him deeper inside.
He swallowed. "My goodness. You're sucking me up."
You'd already loosened up as much as you could. You were being split open.
His other hand wrapped around the side of your waist, thumb caressing up and down.
"You're shaking," he whispered, only making you realize your quivering body beneath him.
You weren't the only one pulsing; his cock was throbbing inside of you.
"Stretching me so much," you cried.
Maybe you should have continued to touch yourself thinking about him, if it would have prepared you better for this. It didn't hurt too much, but you were so full.
He shivered, like you'd given him a fever.
You could sit here with him inside of you all day, you'd stay drenched and ready for him, if that was what it took to ease up.
After a minute or two, the ache got too much for him to even adjusting for any longer.
"I need you," he declared, breathless.
You watched with awe and thrill, as he hovered up.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, tighter than you'd wrapped them around his head earlier.
His hips were slow at first, embracing you and breaching with care.
You couldn't hold back as much as him, leaning up and pulling him into another kiss.
It was open-mouthed, sloppy and fervid, with wild abandon.
He rocked against you, as his tongue sensually explored your mouth. The soft moans that left you were muffled by his kiss.
You fucked back into him, raising your hips around in inconsistent circles.
He pulled back from your mouth. "Fuck, where did you learn to-"
"Harder," you cut in, eyes pleading into his. "Let go for me."
Your begging flashed something feral in his eyes.
Then, his hips seemed to take over his mind. Before you knew it, the bed was creaking and your breasts were bouncing.
Squeals left you, breathy and hoarse already.
He was pounding into you. His pace was frantic, making it difficult for you to push back and fuse your bodies together.
All you could do was take it.
His head nuzzled into your neck. He grunted with each thrust, deep and throaty in your ear.
"I can't…" you whined. "Please, I…"
His hand on your waist trailed up to your breast, grabbing and rubbing it. They'd been extra sensitive, from neglect.
When he rose his head from your neck, his eyes were blissed out.
"You will kill me," he murmured, at peace with dying inside of you.
With that, he captured your other breast into your mouth.
He gently sucked, opposing the slam of his cock in you.
Your legs scrambled to lock him closer and tightly, with a strangled moan.
Your nails clutched his back, gripping and scratching..
Every time you wriggled and squirmed, he pinned your hips down with a hard, needy thrust.
You weren't sure how much longer you could go. He was pounding you so relentlessly, showing you no mercy to hold back.
The headboard pounded. His hips were sharp, pushing to the tilt before pulling out, and slamming back over and over again.
"Hiromi," you whined, feeling your eyes sting.
Then, his hips slowed.
You blinked in confusion, foggy and fucked out
"Wh-"
He was grinding in circles now, slowly. You tried not to clench around him, as your eyes shut.
"I want it to last," he whispered, through gritted teeth. "Do you want to turn over?"
You nodded, swallowing.
He pulled out of you slowly, cock glistening with a mix of your juices.
You were still shaking and out of breath as you turned over, not meeting his hungry eyes.
You rose your hips, propping yourself up with your elbows - you'd tremble and fall if you even attempted to use any strength in your hands right now.
Your warmth and wetness made squelching sound as he entered you again.
You immediately moaned at the angle and deepness. You didn't tell him how you definitely couldn't last in this position.
He was buried inside of you. This way, you felt every vein, every twitch and all of him vividly.
Warmth bloomed on your back. He draped over you, resting his front over your back and pushing closer. Hands secured around your waist.
You immediately began to grind back on him, before he'd even began moving.
His head rested against your cheek from behind, deeply chuckling.
"You're so good to me," he breathed.
You turned your head, eyes catching with his fond gaze.
Your mouth lifted in a small smile, making him press a deep kiss to your cheek.
It was drastically tender, compared to the desperation in his hips that continued.
The room filled with noises of wet slapping of bodies and choked moans. The position was perfect for you to hear all of his grunts amidst it all, right in your ear.
"Only look at me," you gasped out, fisting the sheets. "Only me."
It was words you'd cringe at yourself for later on, but slipped out without thinking.
His cock twitched.
"Of course," he murmured. "No one else gets me this way."
Maybe you wouldn't cringe later on after all.
You gasped, clenching around him tightly.
"Fuck," he groaned, letting out a sigh. "I'm going to eat you alive."
He drilled his length in and out of you then, as though your words had snapped the last and minuscule part of restraint inside of him.
Your back arched into him. His fingers gripped and clawed at your ass, pulling them apart and squeezing them.
Your sensitive breasts dragged into the sheets with each thrust.
It was all too much, overcoming you.
No, no, no…
The familiar warmth burned in your stomach, prickling and threatening to explode.
You didn't want it to end, but you'd both been going for so long now.
"I won't last," you whimpered.
A deep, exhausted breath left him. "I'm close too."
He snapped his hips, making you squirm at the spot he'd hit. Your squeal was muffled into the pillow.
A hand stroked down your back, soothingly. "I've got you."
Your walls tightened around him, clenching before unclenching - in a pulsing and shocking motion.
With a sharp intake of air, his hand trailed around to the front of your neck, before lifting your jaw, fingers ghosting over your mouth.
"You have a way of teasing me, don't you?" he muttered.
The top of his index finger loosely entered your mouth, teeth lightly grazing against it. His palm gently squeezed your neck, almost the same way you'd squeezed around his cock.
"Fuck," he growled. "I'm going to come."
You nodded quickly, feeling yourself near at the words. The thought was pure sin, painted with his arousal all over you.
The bed violently rocked, with each viscous, deprived thrust.
"Hiromi, Hiromi, I can't, please…" The words tumbled out of you, without even realizing what you were asking for.
"Let go for me," he breathed, reciting your words from earlier.
His length bucked deep inside of you. It was the final thing to make you grip around him, writhe and explode.
You whined, trembling around him.
Your release coated his cock, dripping down and convulsing.
Before you could spasm around him, he pulled out immediately and let go of your head. Everything felt impossibly full at the start, but without him felt so empty.
The pillow caught you, slack and spent as you pressed your face into it.
His cock slapped against your ass a few times, before warmth spilled on your skin and a groan escaped him, akin to a purr.
It splattered everywhere at the first spurt, even feeling it on your upper back. He rubbed his cock up and down your back, to your ass, as more leaked out. He made a mess of you, in a heavy, foggy daze of desire.
You were boneless, limp and satisfied - even if there will forever be a deep-seated need for him, that possibly would get worse now that he'd actually slept with you.
A short pause passed, followed by an exhausted, proud exhale from him.
Your eyes slowly blinked, feeling yourself already about to fall into unconsciousness.
Light kisses brushed the back of your shoulders, making you turn your head with tired eyes.
Idc, normalize kink shaming. Cause y'all be using “don’t kink shame” and “it’s fiction” to excuse being into incest, pedophilia, cannibalism, etc. Like, be so fr, you ship a 14 year old with a 30 year, want to get railed by your dad and want to see two brothers f*ck each other. I don’t engage with things fictionally that I don’t like/wouldn’t want to do in real life. Yes, I’m judging you.
if you don’t like a character, then just…don’t like them. but if you don’t like a black character BECAUSE they are black (or any poc for that matter although black characters have the most prominent issue within the bllk fandom) and you only begin to like them to ship with a white/asian character? that’s WEIRD.
nobody gaf about loki or agi until hugo or teddy. and its fine to ship poc with white characters if you want to, this is a fandom space, ship whoever tf you want as long as it’s not illegal. but starting to like a black character SIMPLY because you shipped them with a white character??? you don’t have to like loki just because he’s paired with hugo. you don’t have to claim to be an “og agi fan” now that teddy is here. because that’s performative, and you’re really only saying that to justify your ship that never needed justification in the first place. it’s a highlight of internalized racism.
i sure hope no anon decides to send me hate asks again COUGH.
Synopsis: Bound by duty and stalked by countless eyes, it'd seem you aren't the only one acting within limited range.
Cw: Arranged marriage; Sae x reader; Bunny x reader undertones; abuse; power imbalances; misogynistic ideals; f!reader.
<-previous next-> masterlist
Wc: 5.7k
The sun quietly ducks below the horizon, casting the vast planes of the heavenly realm into the dark of night. Outside the walls, the angels retire to the serenity of their homes. Laughter mixed with fatigue flows into the air with the smoke and steam from their chimneys. Despite the absence of Heaven's primary and most natural source of heat and light, that of the people keeps the city cozy. Bunny wishes he could feel such warmth, such care. And yet, all he is allowed is the mere sight of it through the transparent barrier along the wall of his temporary lodging.
<—{☆}—>
"Did I not give you a job to do, Iglesias? You don't mean to tell me you too have grown incompetent!" a thunderous tear tore through the throne room. Eyes as hot as liquid gold poured over the Duke's back — scalding, punishing and unforgiving in nature. Steeled aurum pierced through him, shattering the facade of confidence beheld in the ruby hue of his iris.
Save for the king's tantrum, the hall was quiet. Not a single angel dared to gaze upon the sight. Nobody dared to incur the evergrowing wrath of their ruler. As vicious as he'd become, few men blamed him for his sudden outburst.
The pressure from the Nether Realm was beginning to claw into King Angelos. And what a frightening sight it turned him into.
Iglesias was dismissed, essentially evicted from the room with yet another loud bark. The man would've taken this as an opportunity to return to his chamber, but he was stopped by an elegant woman, draped in flowing, regal attire, basking the hall with her soft, golden light. Her expression was kind, just as any queen should have.
Iglesias knew better. Every person with the Angelos name had their own secrets— their own role to fulfill in this twisted play directed by God himself. And perhaps, with the rising moon as their sole witness, he'd learn exactly what shadows lurked beneath the queen's graceful facade.
The king and his uncontrollable temper, the Queen and her underlying desire for control. Then there was you. Despite your cool faced facade and blank expression, there was always something left unsaid.
<—{☆}—>
True to his previous judgement, Bunny really only arrived when the sun was set. Sensing the now familiar sting shoot down along his spine, he lifts his gaze to meet his own in the reflection of the widow. Similar hues of amurite the bustling streets seem to mock his predicament. In retaliation, he draws his curtains shut, plunging his room into complete darkness. This leaves him to his thoughts.
His highness is growing more erratic by the day. Bunny guesses it won't be long before the king's flimsy defenses cave in on themselves. Not that the ever so righteous king would admit to the possibility of such a thing. He really is a stubborn old man. It really is a wonder how the realm has survived so long under the reign of such a child man. The man falls to his bed with a deep sigh on his lips. The frame uncomfortably creaks beneath his weight.
Heaven is due for some new management. And he knows better than to look outward for such.
With you already at the forefront of his mind, he thinks back to the last time he had seen you. You were perched in the vibrant green of your personal haven, still, but ethereal. And accompanied by a foul creature. Sae— an envoy and trojan hoarse for the destruction of the Heavenly Realm. At that moment, he had already felt the air being sucked straight from his lungs.
Even now, he is rendered uneasy.
Nothing about the scene was particularly alarming. If anything, it seemed as though he'd trespassed on the secret rendezvous between old acquaintances. But the manner in which the demon leaned in while you made no attempt to back away, has Bunny inclined to think there may be something more at play. It was too natural, too intimate. And thus, too threatening, in his eyes. It seemed as though he had no issues being that close to you.
Iglesias knows what the auburn-haired monster is after. Sae was diligent enough to lay it all out upfront. But knowing that he's already that close to you makes him wonder just how much time the Duke has remaining until the fall of the Heavenly Empire.
But it's not as though the king is employing him to sit and sulk over his mountain of problems. No, his promised glory is exchanged for his ability to solve them. Even if it costs him an arm and a leg, he must see to it that his duty is fulfilled and Heaven's sacred treasure is preserved and kept out the scorching inferno.
<—{☆}—>
The morning sunlight filters in through the drawn curtains, pouring its golden light into the room of your chamber. There's a faint sound of humming, going in tune with the comb being slipped through the strands of your hair. You eye the expression of the singer from the reflection of your vanity mirror.
"You seem to be rather elated, Georgia. Care to share?" you muse. The blonde startles, her eyes dramatically widening.
She politely brushes you off with a giggle, "Oh, no! Don't worry about me, your highness! We just happened to find a potential scoop." This peaks your interest. Noticing your interest, she continues. "Well, Mari found a guy who potentially knows the inside details of this whole Heaven-and-Hell-business. We don't know much about him, but Mari has set up a meeting with him."
You hum, "Now that is interesting. Would you mind seeing this one through? It does seem to be on the promising side." Georgia nods her head, nonetheless, bowing her head.
"As you wish, your highness."
There's a faint knock at the door. With your permission, it opens, revealing your second attendant, Maria. In her hand, there's a tightly sealed envelope atop a pile of laundry.
Maria hands you the white envelope. The expression on her face is a strange mixture between confusion and excitement. The seal is a deep red, marked with a doodle of a bunny. Its charm is in the cute, yet childish appearance of the design. Curious as to who the sender could possibly be, you tear open the envelope and skim over its contents.
<—{☆}—>
'Dear Cisne Mudo
Meeting you in private for the first time really was a pleasurable treat after toiling away within the Royal Court for hours on end. It had emphasised the deeply seated loneliness into which I had been plunged. Even now, I cannot help but lament the curt manner in which our time together has been thus far.
It would be of the utmost honour, if you would allow me to invite you outside the palace for an afternoon.
Kindest regards,
Your fiancé'
<—{☆}—>
You frown. True to his word, Bunny really did contact you. You'll give him that much. Though, such extravagance is excessive. Is it a way to ensure neither you nor Leo would disregard his message? Or perhaps a way to simulate the familiarity of lovers. Except, as your fiancé, practically all communication from him is automatically accepted as safe to enter the palace walls.
There's a quiet scoff that comes from your lips without you realising. A hand runs through your hair while you glare at the parchment as though it were the man himself. You have half a mind to discard the letter when you feel a light tug on your hair.
"Your highness! An invitation from the Duke, himself? You must go!" Georgia gasps, moving to fix the tussled stands.
"Is it truly necessary?" you suck in a sharp breath between teeth, deliberately ignoring the fact that she'd read your letter from over your shoulder; a punishable offense.
Behind you, the blonde folds her arms and pouts, "Of course! This is your fiancé! And the Duke Iglesias! You have to go! If not for him, for the better of your future union!"
You whine, "But, I don't—"
You're cut off by a stone cold glare from the woman behind you. To your side, Maria turn away. Clearly, she has no interest in incurring Georgia's wrath for your sake.
You tense on the spot before letting out a sigh.
<—{☆}—>
The Royal carriage comes to a halt on one of the streets at the capital. The Duke is the first to rise, stepping out the carriage to aid in your exit. He holds his hand out to you, the usual charismatic smile gracing his face. "We have arrived, your highness."
You take his hand and step out of the carriage. Using your hand as a driver, he steers you down the street. It's busy— with merchants loudly announcing their offers and children gleefully running about.
A couple of them nearly bump into you, slightly stumbling before taking off in a sprint down the street. Few mutter a quick apology, while the others don't even offer so much as a sideward glance in your general direction. Loose feathers fall from their wings and flustered to the floor. Your eyes follow them through the crowd— the carefree nature of their movements and bubbly laughter. It's a stark contrast to the quiet loneliness that settles within the Palace walls. The world zips past you; layered conversations, uncoordinated steps, the chimes of bells above the doors of nearby bakeries and ateliers.
You exhale, utterly entranced by the atmosphere. A deeper exhale mirrors yours beside you. Your attentions is kept in the direction of the now lost children— as if you could still see their figures through the hoards of angels that crowd the capital.
"The capital really is a soothing experience, isn't it?" he hums. You catch a brief moment of hesitance wherein he casts his gaze to the skies above. His hand stiffens in yours for a fraction of a second.
Oh? That's new. You never knew Iglesias to be someone so tense nor did you know him to be someone who'd hesitate in any matter. Though, it does stand to reason that you don't know him at all.
"I really am happy that you decided to accompany me this afternoon." You glance at his side profile for a moment.
"It would be rude to ignore your invitation, no?"
At the back of your mind, you envision a stern Georgia watching you from over your shoulder. Truth be told, you're not sure why such a vision frightens you to the point of obedience. Your response earns a quiet chuckle from the man. "Anyway, you never mentioned what you planned for us today."
The Duke turns to you with a gleeful grin stretches across his lips. "That's because it'll be a surprise!"
"A surprise?" you parrot, shifting your gaze to your surroundings again. A deadpan expression flattens the features of your face.
"A surprise," he repeats. "I figured a woman such as yourself would need one to brighten her day." His grin widens as he leans closer to you. You flinch with a slight frown, causing his own expression to flicker with surprise. He smoothly pulls away soon after.
"In the meantime, we can explore this side of the capital."
You avert your gaze to the stalls that surround you. Duke Iglesias is a great many things: a sly man, distrustful, always too close yet somehow just out of reach. Still, you can't exactly call him a plain liar either. There always is some merit of truth to him.
He's right, the capital really is soothing. It's warm, radiant, almost as though the world itself is at perfect peace. It's difficult to maintain a cool facade when all you can see is contentment on every face. The smile that tugs at your lips is a direct result of that.
Midstep, something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. You happen to pass one of the stalls with an array of trinkets on display. Curious as they are, your eyes are drawn to the single book that lays off to the side— clearly in an attempt to disregard its existence. The pages are wrapped by a burgundy material, clearly worn down from excessive use. The edges are jagged with an unfamiliar sigil plastered on its front. You recognise neither its mark nor its design. It's too foreign. Perhaps a script from beyond the borders? But how far? If so, you can note as much as you can of the the clerk's general information and send Maria to retrieve it in private. That can work.
It should work! Your eyes light up before dulling to your usual, practiced deadpan. All that's needed now is for you to return and axt as though nothing is amiss.
Unfortunately for you, you had halted for a moment too long, making the snow-haired man turn to you with a puzzled expression. It takes far too little time for him to pick up on what caused your brief pause. Suddenly sensing his knowing gaze on you, you freeze.
The two of you remain still in the busy street for a few seconds. Neither of you speak a word. Each moment only has you further tensing in your spot. Iglesias lowers his head with a slight tilt. His question is clear to you, even through sealed lips: "See something interesting?"
You're quick to deny, "No, nothing worth stopping for." Iglesias says nothing. Even so, there's a slight sparkle in his eye that says everything; you're lying and he knows it. His lowers to your shoulder, lightly pinning you in place to receive your confession.
There's a pause in your thoughts. You too do not believe your own lie.
Quickly, your eyes dart over the stall. It doesn't even have to be appealing— it just has to be enough of a distraction to avert suspicion. As if answering your prayer, a sharp glint catches your attention.
You sharply inhale, pointing in its direction, "Well, I was looking at the hairpin on display, but I really can go without it! We should leave." Without a second thought, you're lightly shoving hom aside and moving to continue your journey. You're not sure where exactly your destination is or what's planned when you arrive, but you're not in the mental state to care.
Instead of the seamless motion of travelling from before, you're immediately jerked backward. Your head whips round to find that the Duke hasn't moved an inch. To keep you in place, his hand circles your wrist. His gaze remains fixed in the direction you'd pointed, almost as if he's tracking the object of your interest.
He's already dragging you to the stall, ignoring your protests. When you arrive, you're met with the face of the sketchy merchant. It's fairly elder looking man. Mid 50s, you'd guess. He seems to be experienced in trade. "Hi, how may I help you today? Are you here to perhaps purchase something for your beautiful lover, my lord?"
You pause at the title; 'lover.' It is fair that he'd assume as much. Two young lovers, strolling through the capital of the Heavenly Realm, hand in hand. It should bring you comfort, knowing that your betrothed has socially assimilated into his role— leaving you with less court work for later. Yet somehow, you're a bit peeved. That single perception only makes your future with him all the more certain.
You and Duke Iglesias are set to be wed. You will be his wife, just as he will be your husband. By then, you will have lost the small authority you'd gained throughout the time of your life. And what will become of you then?
Iglesias mirrors the owner's professional grin, snaking an arm around you to draw you into his side. His hold is secure and his body is warm. Yet somehow, his firm grip on you seems more like a threat. "As a matter of fact, you're correct. I plan on purchasing something for my fiancée. What would the pricing of that book there tally up to?"
At the mere mention of the transcript, agitation flares over the face of the stall owner. He forces a polite smile, "Unfortunately, this product isn't fit for public consumption. How it made it onto the table is beyond me. Apologies for the misunderstanding, my lord. If you're still interested, there are other, much better options for the lovely lady." You watch as he frantically shoves the book aside in an attempt to further conceal its presence.
Iglesias doesn't back down, instead pushing harder. "Really, is that so? Surely we cannot come to some form of an agreement? See, I am under strict imperial orders to appease my future wife and your future queen. And right now, the manner in which it shall be done is by lavishing her with as many gifts as I may attain within Heaven's borders. So, I have to get my hands on that book as it would greatly please my lovely cisne mudo. Surely, you're not willing to turn me down under these circumstances, no?" The stare-down that ensues only serves to compress you between the two.
The clerk's business smile twitches at the edges, his voice getting a bit rougher along the edges, "Genuinely, my lord, that object is not for public consumption. And without the proper documents, how must I know you speak the truth? Until I receive proof of your word, I shall not be giving it."
The white-haired nobleman adjusts his hold on you, slightly shifting to shield you from the man's sight. "Then, view it as a one-time deal between two people with wanted assets." He reaches into the pocket of his coat. You notice the bulge of his movements beneath the fabric before he pulls out a bag of gold coins.
Oh.
Teasingly, he shakes it from side to side, allowing for the rustling of the coins to be heard. "Would you still claim that I cannot take such an item off your hands?"
You notice as the irises of the man's eyes follow the bag. Back and forth, to and fro. The greed that glimmers and expands in proportion to his pupils is susceptible, even to you. He clears his throat to regain his composure. In a fraction of a second, the book is snatched up and offered to the nobleman beside you.
"When you put it that way, my lord, it really is a blessing that it would be so generous!"
A pleased grin takes over the Duke's features. He holds out the bag. "Then, generous I shall be. Oh, if it isn't too much trouble, could you also add that hairpin into the tab?" Both you and the merchant pause, shooting your attention to the accessory that lays near the centre of the display. Neither of you expected him to want it.
Though, seeing as he's already in a good mood, the man swipes it from the surface upon which it rests and holds it for the nobleman's taking. "Of course, my lord!" he barks out a laugh. "I don't see why I shouldn't repay your overflowing indulgence, by throwing in another gift for the lovely lady on your arm!"
You force a smile, "Thank you. That really is kind of you, but I guarantee you, it isn't necessary—"
The Duke wordlessly takes the good and sets off, holding you close to his side. "Thank you, good sir. Business was a pleasure."
The merchant gleefully giggles as he eyes the moneybag, "Likewise. I do hope you return soon!" His elation is soon drowned out by the crowd as you step further out toward the outskirts of the capital.
<—{☆}—>
You note that the smooth, polished limestone beneath your feet slowly fades to compact, dirt roads— hardened by the weight of its use. You are aware of the fact that a patch of land had been left untouched, owing to the civilians that fought for such conservation within the ever-expanding territory of the Heavenly Realm.
The state of the acre is bright, practically overgrown. It reminds you of your own garden, drawing tension from your weary bones. The serenity of the scene enchants you. So it's not all too surprising when you bump into the Duke when he suddenly halts.
He turns to you with a grin, "We're here." With a gesture toward a large tree in the near distance, you're presented with an open expanse of land. In the middle, there is a clear dam. Light dances upon the light ripples in the water. The hitch in your breath isn't left unheard by the Duke.
"I hadn't realised such a place existed in the capital," you murmur, more to yourself. Few people occupy the space. It does seem to be for the nature-loving loners, elderly couples and young families who longed for a place guarded enough for their children to roam. They're all scattered across the grassland— contentedly spending their afternoon beneath the sun.
There's a smooth chuckle, "Interesting you say that. I thought you of all people would know of it. Or at the very least— the amount of effort it took to keep this place conserved."
And there goes your amazement, now replaced by your common dissatisfaction with the unpigmented aristocrat. Must he ruin everything? The man seems pleased with your reaction before ushering you to the vacant picnic beneath the tree.
"Well, I was aware of the fact that many of the common folk had fought for this land," you retort. Your gaze lowers, a frown tugging at the corners of your features. But—
"Nobody had given any specifics as to why the people had gone through such efforts," Iglesias finishes for you. You shoot him a sidelong glare for interrupting your own sacred thoughts. Clouded onyx irises meet your own before being closed off by thick lashes. He steps to the blanket and plops himself down, leaning against the tree. Your eyes track his movements as he pats the spot beside him.
Silently, you set yourself a fair distance away from him. When he offers one of his inviting smiles, you immediately shrink away even further. His smile morphs to one riddled with concern. "Didn't think you were so space-conscious, your highness," he muses. Despite the disappointment in his tone, he doesn't make any attempts to close the distance between you.
"What made you think otherwise?" you cautiously question.
The Duke reaches for the grimoire, picking up the hairpin to dangle in your face. He smirks, "Don't know. Seeing your own fiancée having a secret rendezvous with a man in her garden may definitely give off such an impression, no?" The jewel at the tip glints beneath the warm rays of the sun. Instantly, you're reminded of a shade of auburn that you have all but memorised within the last month or so.
Your heart skips a beat. Whether that reaction stems from surprise, fear or something else entirely is unknown to you in the current moment. You're not in any place to question it at the moment, so you chalk it up to the first instead. A faint hum resounds in your throat, "When you phrase it like that, I sound unfaithful."
No further elaboration is offered. Taking this as a silent challenge, Iglesias tilts his head, placing the ornament atop the book. "May you never claim that I had made such a remark, cisne mudo."
For that period of time, neither of you utter a word.
"Since we're already on the topic of demons in the palace," Iglesias mutters. His gaze falls to the tome laid between you. "Care to explain this?" He lightly taps the book with a playful grin. You freeze for a second. What answer is he hoping to receive? A confession? Potential leverage in further discussions and decision-making?
Instead of scrutinising over the seemingly infinite possibilities of responses, you deduce narrowing them down is best. "That depends, what do you want to know? You should be aware that no honourable lady of the court would bare herself to any man before marriage in any manner. Even if he is her husband-to-be," you state. The expression on your face retains its neutral form.
Internally, you pat yourself on the back with a pleased smirk. Nice one.
A near childish pout forms on the face of your fiancé. "What do I mean? Dearest, I'm talking about your strange behaviour as of late. When I spoke to your mother, she never mentioned that you were such a... busy body who mingled with any creature who craved attention." His eyes flick to his side before a slight frown twitches at the corners of his lips. He immediately leans closer, lacing his fingers with yours on the surface of the blanket between you.
"I worry for you, mundo, deeply so. It's a real danger for the princess of Heaven, if she's taken by an evil band of demons. What would we do without such a treasure in our vault?"
Your heart stops. Surely, you haven't been too obvious in your pursuit of knowledge. Or maybe you have, if even the Duke is aware, it really is only a matter of time before the King hears of this. And what then? Confinement? Trial? Execution? No, as of right now, he's not allowed to execute you. You can bank on that much. But whatever he does decide, it won't pan out well for you. Your worry seems to show at the edges of your features as the Duke offers a small grin.
Iglesias chortles, "Is such a matter that big a concern for you, your highness?" You raise a brow at his antics. "Relax, princess. Your father isn't aware. Yet. His hands are tied with other matters and I haven't mentioned a word of this to him. He's completely in the dark about your sneaking around." A sigh of relief escapes you. Your relief is short before you realise something crucial.
You suspiciously eye the Duke. "There's a but, isn't there?"
He blinks. "A but? Mudo, what would make you think I would introduce such a thing?" he gasps, creating space between you. That isn't a story you're willing to buy. Though, you're not in the business of landing yourself into unnecessary debts. Carefully, you turn your head to the pond ahead.
The silence carried in by the light breeze speaks for you. Your gaze trails to the glistening pond. A graceful, feathered figure glides over the surface— silent, but beautiful. It cranes its head to the water. Both you and the Duke watch it from your spot on the picnic blanket. Beside you, the Duke hums, "Though, if I must decide on something..."
You don't look at him. And you do not need to. He knows you're listening. With that comfort, he turns his head to gaze upon the pond as well. "I must ask for two things."
An eyebrow is arched on your end. "Two? Is that greed I sense?"
"Repayment. I concealed your dealings with Sae from your father and purchased a demonic grimoire. I count those as two tokens of favour for which I may seek payment."
Your heart clenches at the mere mention of the demon's name. To feign nonchalance, you hum in response. A fair trade, really. There isn't much you can fault in such logic. "Fine. Make your demands."
Iglesias shifts back against the bark of the tree. A deep sigh escapes his lips. His eyes fall to your figure— still, tranquil, graceful. For a moment, he's simply admiring you before looking back to the swan on the lake. A few children have gathered along the banks to admire the bird. Some attempt to imitate its refined mannerisms.
Still, it remains untouched— far out of reach.
He's then reminded of you and his relationship with you. Something sophisticated and poised. Even with the limitless knowledge you'd acquired, you are manage to remain just out of reach. Though, he doubts he's the only one who feels so estranged from you. Those within your inner circle seem to be just beyond an arm's length away. Close enough to be associated with your prestige, but much too far to access your wisdom or imitate your way of life.
And yet, it appears that it is what adds to your charm. If he were to reach out now, could he reach you? Would slip into the still waters of your domain and drown? He isn't too sure, but he's curious enough to find out.
"Stay out of Hell's business, your highness."
Huh?
Puzzlement pulls at your face as you whine your head around to him. Your lips part, but no words fall out. They die on the tip of your tongue— equal parts too impactful to be kept unsaid and too weak to be voiced aloud. "And what would that mean?" you ask. Not the question you would've liked to ask, but the only one that was willing to spring forth anyway.
Your eyes meet his and you notice the seriousness in his. A light breeze slips through the pale strands of hair on his head. A puff of air escapes his lips, "Stop digging, your highness. Not only are your hands so ill-suited for such a task, but doing so will only invite unwanted trouble."
'And keep away from him. He only seeks to take you from this realm.'
The words die in his throat. He can't find it in himself to try. In place of his unsaid advice, his hand grabs ahold of yours, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss to your knuckles. "I could never forgive myself, if I allowed such filth to sully the hands of the future queen."
Surprise overtakes your features, giving your eyes wider appearance. There's an odd mix of sincerity in his tone and actions. Before you could fully immerse yourself in the genuine side to the man at your side, a cheeky grin situated itself on his face.
"Besides, you'd look terrible in red and black. Stick to white and gold."
It takes a pregnant period for his words to settle. And when they do, your mood sours. You hiss, "Must you always be so difficult?" A frown etches itself into your features without your permission.
"Difficult? Goodness, cisne mudo, do you take me for a fickle partner? I am merely offering genuine advice," Iglesias quietly sobs, covering his 'wounded' heart with his palm.
This marks the beginning of a back and forth between you. With whatever you say, the Duke has a respond lined up and ready to fire. Each one triggers an even stronger reaction from you than before. A few wandering eyes halt at your hushed, yet agitated tone paired with his playful teasing. Some hum. Others snicker. In the end, your quarrel has become something of a spectacle for the nearby onlookers.
You bite back a curse of your own before Iglesias tugs your hand to his chest. It's then that you're reminded of the fact that his hand still gently cradles yours within the faux warmth of his palm. Your irritated gaze meets his that exudes a certain level of calmness and surety that you currently lack. "I promise, cisne mudo. Should you heed my word, I'll make it worth your while after the current political issues subside. I swear on it— on my honour as the current Duke of Cielo and my future as king of Heaven."
Light glimmers over the surface of his eyes, bringing a glimmer of life to the crimson hue. Perhaps trusting his word may prove to be quite the benefit. This time.
<—{☆}—>
With the Duke's request still ringing in your ears, the carriage pulls into the gates of the Eastern Palace. Much like the trip outside the gate, the cart is deathly silent. After your discussion beneath the tree, neither of you have much more to say. Furthermore, you hadn't explicitly given your own answer. So when the aristocrat watches you disappear behind the grandiose doors of the palace, he finds himself praying for your compliance.
The thought perishes when he notices a second vehicle of conveyance approaching. His eyes spot a flash of striking blonde that he recognises as that of one of your attendants. When she steps out the carriage, she's followed by your second attendant. At the sight of him, both of them tense up with the blonde's eyes displaying a mere flicker of panic. She hugs a small leather box to her chest, the edges worn and its binding tight. The brunette politely bows, the other following suit. It hardly takes a second before the pair scamper in through the doors where he loses sight of them too.
Curiosity gnaws at his soul. The two of them couldn't have possibly left the palace without word from you. Had you sent them? What errands could you have made them run? Does it have anything to do with Hell?
It's in asking these questions that he finds himself browsing through the inventory of the carriage. There's nothing particularly alarming; fabrics, accessories, jewellery, papers and ink. Hardly anything to be so apprehensive over. Is there perhaps something between the—
"And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing, Duke Iglesias?" A stern voice booms. Like a child, the chalk haired man jumps from the trunk of the cart. He spots the royal butler, Leonidas approaching with a few guards— whom he assumes are here to escort the recently procured goods.
A guilty grin stretches across the man's face, "Nothing of concern. Merely..."
He pauses, searching for the right word to describe his actions. "Glancing?" The unimpressed deadpan of the butler mirrors his displeasure. Iglesias deflates, clapping his hands together with a bow. "Please forgive me. I grew curious, you can't blame a man for that, no?"
Leo's frown deepens. He steps closer to Bunny before whispering, "Curious as you may be, I cannot allow you to go sifting through the belongings of her highness. It matters not what your intentions were or what orders you were issued by his majesty."
Without another word, the man pushes past the Duke to retrieve your goods. He's left to stand on his own amidst the crowded yard. And once again, he's finding himself praying to God himself that his concern for your safety is unfounded.
a/n: Finally! We are free! Exams are over (for now) and I'm not suffering from writer's block!
Tags (ask if you want to be added): @zhongchithoughts @pookiei-bookie @napbatata @vhampified
Synopsis: Bound by duty and stalked by countless eyes, it'd seem you aren't the only one acting within limited range.
Cw: Arranged marriage; Sae x reader; Bunny x reader undertones; abuse; power imbalances; misogynistic ideals; f!reader.
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Wc: 5.7k
The sun quietly ducks below the horizon, casting the vast planes of the heavenly realm into the dark of night. Outside the walls, the angels retire to the serenity of their homes. Laughter mixed with fatigue flows into the air with the smoke and steam from their chimneys. Despite the absence of Heaven's primary and most natural source of heat and light, that of the people keeps the city cozy. Bunny wishes he could feel such warmth, such care. And yet, all he is allowed is the mere sight of it through the transparent barrier along the wall of his temporary lodging.
<—{☆}—>
"Did I not give you a job to do, Iglesias? You don't mean to tell me you too have grown incompetent!" a thunderous tear tore through the throne room. Eyes as hot as liquid gold poured over the Duke's back — scalding, punishing and unforgiving in nature. Steeled aurum pierced through him, shattering the facade of confidence beheld in the ruby hue of his iris.
Save for the king's tantrum, the hall was quiet. Not a single angel dared to gaze upon the sight. Nobody dared to incur the evergrowing wrath of their ruler. As vicious as he'd become, few men blamed him for his sudden outburst.
The pressure from the Nether Realm was beginning to claw into King Angelos. And what a frightening sight it turned him into.
Iglesias was dismissed, essentially evicted from the room with yet another loud bark. The man would've taken this as an opportunity to return to his chamber, but he was stopped by an elegant woman, draped in flowing, regal attire, basking the hall with her soft, golden light. Her expression was kind, just as any queen should have.
Iglesias knew better. Every person with the Angelos name had their own secrets— their own role to fulfill in this twisted play directed by God himself. And perhaps, with the rising moon as their sole witness, he'd learn exactly what shadows lurked beneath the queen's graceful facade.
The king and his uncontrollable temper, the Queen and her underlying desire for control. Then there was you. Despite your cool faced facade and blank expression, there was always something left unsaid.
<—{☆}—>
True to his previous judgement, Bunny really only arrived when the sun was set. Sensing the now familiar sting shoot down along his spine, he lifts his gaze to meet his own in the reflection of the widow. Similar hues of amurite the bustling streets seem to mock his predicament. In retaliation, he draws his curtains shut, plunging his room into complete darkness. This leaves him to his thoughts.
His highness is growing more erratic by the day. Bunny guesses it won't be long before the king's flimsy defenses cave in on themselves. Not that the ever so righteous king would admit to the possibility of such a thing. He really is a stubborn old man. It really is a wonder how the realm has survived so long under the reign of such a child man. The man falls to his bed with a deep sigh on his lips. The frame uncomfortably creaks beneath his weight.
Heaven is due for some new management. And he knows better than to look outward for such.
With you already at the forefront of his mind, he thinks back to the last time he had seen you. You were perched in the vibrant green of your personal haven, still, but ethereal. And accompanied by a foul creature. Sae— an envoy and trojan hoarse for the destruction of the Heavenly Realm. At that moment, he had already felt the air being sucked straight from his lungs.
Even now, he is rendered uneasy.
Nothing about the scene was particularly alarming. If anything, it seemed as though he'd trespassed on the secret rendezvous between old acquaintances. But the manner in which the demon leaned in while you made no attempt to back away, has Bunny inclined to think there may be something more at play. It was too natural, too intimate. And thus, too threatening, in his eyes. It seemed as though he had no issues being that close to you.
Iglesias knows what the auburn-haired monster is after. Sae was diligent enough to lay it all out upfront. But knowing that he's already that close to you makes him wonder just how much time the Duke has remaining until the fall of the Heavenly Empire.
But it's not as though the king is employing him to sit and sulk over his mountain of problems. No, his promised glory is exchanged for his ability to solve them. Even if it costs him an arm and a leg, he must see to it that his duty is fulfilled and Heaven's sacred treasure is preserved and kept out the scorching inferno.
<—{☆}—>
The morning sunlight filters in through the drawn curtains, pouring its golden light into the room of your chamber. There's a faint sound of humming, going in tune with the comb being slipped through the strands of your hair. You eye the expression of the singer from the reflection of your vanity mirror.
"You seem to be rather elated, Georgia. Care to share?" you muse. The blonde startles, her eyes dramatically widening.
She politely brushes you off with a giggle, "Oh, no! Don't worry about me, your highness! We just happened to find a potential scoop." This peaks your interest. Noticing your interest, she continues. "Well, Mari found a guy who potentially knows the inside details of this whole Heaven-and-Hell-business. We don't know much about him, but Mari has set up a meeting with him."
You hum, "Now that is interesting. Would you mind seeing this one through? It does seem to be on the promising side." Georgia nods her head, nonetheless, bowing her head.
"As you wish, your highness."
There's a faint knock at the door. With your permission, it opens, revealing your second attendant, Maria. In her hand, there's a tightly sealed envelope atop a pile of laundry.
Maria hands you the white envelope. The expression on her face is a strange mixture between confusion and excitement. The seal is a deep red, marked with a doodle of a bunny. Its charm is in the cute, yet childish appearance of the design. Curious as to who the sender could possibly be, you tear open the envelope and skim over its contents.
<—{☆}—>
'Dear Cisne Mudo
Meeting you in private for the first time really was a pleasurable treat after toiling away within the Royal Court for hours on end. It had emphasised the deeply seated loneliness into which I had been plunged. Even now, I cannot help but lament the curt manner in which our time together has been thus far.
It would be of the utmost honour, if you would allow me to invite you outside the palace for an afternoon.
Kindest regards,
Your fiancé'
<—{☆}—>
You frown. True to his word, Bunny really did contact you. You'll give him that much. Though, such extravagance is excessive. Is it a way to ensure neither you nor Leo would disregard his message? Or perhaps a way to simulate the familiarity of lovers. Except, as your fiancé, practically all communication from him is automatically accepted as safe to enter the palace walls.
There's a quiet scoff that comes from your lips without you realising. A hand runs through your hair while you glare at the parchment as though it were the man himself. You have half a mind to discard the letter when you feel a light tug on your hair.
"Your highness! An invitation from the Duke, himself? You must go!" Georgia gasps, moving to fix the tussled stands.
"Is it truly necessary?" you suck in a sharp breath between teeth, deliberately ignoring the fact that she'd read your letter from over your shoulder; a punishable offense.
Behind you, the blonde folds her arms and pouts, "Of course! This is your fiancé! And the Duke Iglesias! You have to go! If not for him, for the better of your future union!"
You whine, "But, I don't—"
You're cut off by a stone cold glare from the woman behind you. To your side, Maria turn away. Clearly, she has no interest in incurring Georgia's wrath for your sake.
You tense on the spot before letting out a sigh.
<—{☆}—>
The Royal carriage comes to a halt on one of the streets at the capital. The Duke is the first to rise, stepping out the carriage to aid in your exit. He holds his hand out to you, the usual charismatic smile gracing his face. "We have arrived, your highness."
You take his hand and step out of the carriage. Using your hand as a driver, he steers you down the street. It's busy— with merchants loudly announcing their offers and children gleefully running about.
A couple of them nearly bump into you, slightly stumbling before taking off in a sprint down the street. Few mutter a quick apology, while the others don't even offer so much as a sideward glance in your general direction. Loose feathers fall from their wings and flustered to the floor. Your eyes follow them through the crowd— the carefree nature of their movements and bubbly laughter. It's a stark contrast to the quiet loneliness that settles within the Palace walls. The world zips past you; layered conversations, uncoordinated steps, the chimes of bells above the doors of nearby bakeries and ateliers.
You exhale, utterly entranced by the atmosphere. A deeper exhale mirrors yours beside you. Your attentions is kept in the direction of the now lost children— as if you could still see their figures through the hoards of angels that crowd the capital.
"The capital really is a soothing experience, isn't it?" he hums. You catch a brief moment of hesitance wherein he casts his gaze to the skies above. His hand stiffens in yours for a fraction of a second.
Oh? That's new. You never knew Iglesias to be someone so tense nor did you know him to be someone who'd hesitate in any matter. Though, it does stand to reason that you don't know him at all.
"I really am happy that you decided to accompany me this afternoon." You glance at his side profile for a moment.
"It would be rude to ignore your invitation, no?"
At the back of your mind, you envision a stern Georgia watching you from over your shoulder. Truth be told, you're not sure why such a vision frightens you to the point of obedience. Your response earns a quiet chuckle from the man. "Anyway, you never mentioned what you planned for us today."
The Duke turns to you with a gleeful grin stretches across his lips. "That's because it'll be a surprise!"
"A surprise?" you parrot, shifting your gaze to your surroundings again. A deadpan expression flattens the features of your face.
"A surprise," he repeats. "I figured a woman such as yourself would need one to brighten her day." His grin widens as he leans closer to you. You flinch with a slight frown, causing his own expression to flicker with surprise. He smoothly pulls away soon after.
"In the meantime, we can explore this side of the capital."
You avert your gaze to the stalls that surround you. Duke Iglesias is a great many things: a sly man, distrustful, always too close yet somehow just out of reach. Still, you can't exactly call him a plain liar either. There always is some merit of truth to him.
He's right, the capital really is soothing. It's warm, radiant, almost as though the world itself is at perfect peace. It's difficult to maintain a cool facade when all you can see is contentment on every face. The smile that tugs at your lips is a direct result of that.
Midstep, something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. You happen to pass one of the stalls with an array of trinkets on display. Curious as they are, your eyes are drawn to the single book that lays off to the side— clearly in an attempt to disregard its existence. The pages are wrapped by a burgundy material, clearly worn down from excessive use. The edges are jagged with an unfamiliar sigil plastered on its front. You recognise neither its mark nor its design. It's too foreign. Perhaps a script from beyond the borders? But how far? If so, you can note as much as you can of the the clerk's general information and send Maria to retrieve it in private. That can work.
It should work! Your eyes light up before dulling to your usual, practiced deadpan. All that's needed now is for you to return and axt as though nothing is amiss.
Unfortunately for you, you had halted for a moment too long, making the snow-haired man turn to you with a puzzled expression. It takes far too little time for him to pick up on what caused your brief pause. Suddenly sensing his knowing gaze on you, you freeze.
The two of you remain still in the busy street for a few seconds. Neither of you speak a word. Each moment only has you further tensing in your spot. Iglesias lowers his head with a slight tilt. His question is clear to you, even through sealed lips: "See something interesting?"
You're quick to deny, "No, nothing worth stopping for." Iglesias says nothing. Even so, there's a slight sparkle in his eye that says everything; you're lying and he knows it. His lowers to your shoulder, lightly pinning you in place to receive your confession.
There's a pause in your thoughts. You too do not believe your own lie.
Quickly, your eyes dart over the stall. It doesn't even have to be appealing— it just has to be enough of a distraction to avert suspicion. As if answering your prayer, a sharp glint catches your attention.
You sharply inhale, pointing in its direction, "Well, I was looking at the hairpin on display, but I really can go without it! We should leave." Without a second thought, you're lightly shoving hom aside and moving to continue your journey. You're not sure where exactly your destination is or what's planned when you arrive, but you're not in the mental state to care.
Instead of the seamless motion of travelling from before, you're immediately jerked backward. Your head whips round to find that the Duke hasn't moved an inch. To keep you in place, his hand circles your wrist. His gaze remains fixed in the direction you'd pointed, almost as if he's tracking the object of your interest.
He's already dragging you to the stall, ignoring your protests. When you arrive, you're met with the face of the sketchy merchant. It's fairly elder looking man. Mid 50s, you'd guess. He seems to be experienced in trade. "Hi, how may I help you today? Are you here to perhaps purchase something for your beautiful lover, my lord?"
You pause at the title; 'lover.' It is fair that he'd assume as much. Two young lovers, strolling through the capital of the Heavenly Realm, hand in hand. It should bring you comfort, knowing that your betrothed has socially assimilated into his role— leaving you with less court work for later. Yet somehow, you're a bit peeved. That single perception only makes your future with him all the more certain.
You and Duke Iglesias are set to be wed. You will be his wife, just as he will be your husband. By then, you will have lost the small authority you'd gained throughout the time of your life. And what will become of you then?
Iglesias mirrors the owner's professional grin, snaking an arm around you to draw you into his side. His hold is secure and his body is warm. Yet somehow, his firm grip on you seems more like a threat. "As a matter of fact, you're correct. I plan on purchasing something for my fiancée. What would the pricing of that book there tally up to?"
At the mere mention of the transcript, agitation flares over the face of the stall owner. He forces a polite smile, "Unfortunately, this product isn't fit for public consumption. How it made it onto the table is beyond me. Apologies for the misunderstanding, my lord. If you're still interested, there are other, much better options for the lovely lady." You watch as he frantically shoves the book aside in an attempt to further conceal its presence.
Iglesias doesn't back down, instead pushing harder. "Really, is that so? Surely we cannot come to some form of an agreement? See, I am under strict imperial orders to appease my future wife and your future queen. And right now, the manner in which it shall be done is by lavishing her with as many gifts as I may attain within Heaven's borders. So, I have to get my hands on that book as it would greatly please my lovely cisne mudo. Surely, you're not willing to turn me down under these circumstances, no?" The stare-down that ensues only serves to compress you between the two.
The clerk's business smile twitches at the edges, his voice getting a bit rougher along the edges, "Genuinely, my lord, that object is not for public consumption. And without the proper documents, how must I know you speak the truth? Until I receive proof of your word, I shall not be giving it."
The white-haired nobleman adjusts his hold on you, slightly shifting to shield you from the man's sight. "Then, view it as a one-time deal between two people with wanted assets." He reaches into the pocket of his coat. You notice the bulge of his movements beneath the fabric before he pulls out a bag of gold coins.
Oh.
Teasingly, he shakes it from side to side, allowing for the rustling of the coins to be heard. "Would you still claim that I cannot take such an item off your hands?"
You notice as the irises of the man's eyes follow the bag. Back and forth, to and fro. The greed that glimmers and expands in proportion to his pupils is susceptible, even to you. He clears his throat to regain his composure. In a fraction of a second, the book is snatched up and offered to the nobleman beside you.
"When you put it that way, my lord, it really is a blessing that it would be so generous!"
A pleased grin takes over the Duke's features. He holds out the bag. "Then, generous I shall be. Oh, if it isn't too much trouble, could you also add that hairpin into the tab?" Both you and the merchant pause, shooting your attention to the accessory that lays near the centre of the display. Neither of you expected him to want it.
Though, seeing as he's already in a good mood, the man swipes it from the surface upon which it rests and holds it for the nobleman's taking. "Of course, my lord!" he barks out a laugh. "I don't see why I shouldn't repay your overflowing indulgence, by throwing in another gift for the lovely lady on your arm!"
You force a smile, "Thank you. That really is kind of you, but I guarantee you, it isn't necessary—"
The Duke wordlessly takes the good and sets off, holding you close to his side. "Thank you, good sir. Business was a pleasure."
The merchant gleefully giggles as he eyes the moneybag, "Likewise. I do hope you return soon!" His elation is soon drowned out by the crowd as you step further out toward the outskirts of the capital.
<—{☆}—>
You note that the smooth, polished limestone beneath your feet slowly fades to compact, dirt roads— hardened by the weight of its use. You are aware of the fact that a patch of land had been left untouched, owing to the civilians that fought for such conservation within the ever-expanding territory of the Heavenly Realm.
The state of the acre is bright, practically overgrown. It reminds you of your own garden, drawing tension from your weary bones. The serenity of the scene enchants you. So it's not all too surprising when you bump into the Duke when he suddenly halts.
He turns to you with a grin, "We're here." With a gesture toward a large tree in the near distance, you're presented with an open expanse of land. In the middle, there is a clear dam. Light dances upon the light ripples in the water. The hitch in your breath isn't left unheard by the Duke.
"I hadn't realised such a place existed in the capital," you murmur, more to yourself. Few people occupy the space. It does seem to be for the nature-loving loners, elderly couples and young families who longed for a place guarded enough for their children to roam. They're all scattered across the grassland— contentedly spending their afternoon beneath the sun.
There's a smooth chuckle, "Interesting you say that. I thought you of all people would know of it. Or at the very least— the amount of effort it took to keep this place conserved."
And there goes your amazement, now replaced by your common dissatisfaction with the unpigmented aristocrat. Must he ruin everything? The man seems pleased with your reaction before ushering you to the vacant picnic beneath the tree.
"Well, I was aware of the fact that many of the common folk had fought for this land," you retort. Your gaze lowers, a frown tugging at the corners of your features. But—
"Nobody had given any specifics as to why the people had gone through such efforts," Iglesias finishes for you. You shoot him a sidelong glare for interrupting your own sacred thoughts. Clouded onyx irises meet your own before being closed off by thick lashes. He steps to the blanket and plops himself down, leaning against the tree. Your eyes track his movements as he pats the spot beside him.
Silently, you set yourself a fair distance away from him. When he offers one of his inviting smiles, you immediately shrink away even further. His smile morphs to one riddled with concern. "Didn't think you were so space-conscious, your highness," he muses. Despite the disappointment in his tone, he doesn't make any attempts to close the distance between you.
"What made you think otherwise?" you cautiously question.
The Duke reaches for the grimoire, picking up the hairpin to dangle in your face. He smirks, "Don't know. Seeing your own fiancée having a secret rendezvous with a man in her garden may definitely give off such an impression, no?" The jewel at the tip glints beneath the warm rays of the sun. Instantly, you're reminded of a shade of auburn that you have all but memorised within the last month or so.
Your heart skips a beat. Whether that reaction stems from surprise, fear or something else entirely is unknown to you in the current moment. You're not in any place to question it at the moment, so you chalk it up to the first instead. A faint hum resounds in your throat, "When you phrase it like that, I sound unfaithful."
No further elaboration is offered. Taking this as a silent challenge, Iglesias tilts his head, placing the ornament atop the book. "May you never claim that I had made such a remark, cisne mudo."
For that period of time, neither of you utter a word.
"Since we're already on the topic of demons in the palace," Iglesias mutters. His gaze falls to the tome laid between you. "Care to explain this?" He lightly taps the book with a playful grin. You freeze for a second. What answer is he hoping to receive? A confession? Potential leverage in further discussions and decision-making?
Instead of scrutinising over the seemingly infinite possibilities of responses, you deduce narrowing them down is best. "That depends, what do you want to know? You should be aware that no honourable lady of the court would bare herself to any man before marriage in any manner. Even if he is her husband-to-be," you state. The expression on your face retains its neutral form.
Internally, you pat yourself on the back with a pleased smirk. Nice one.
A near childish pout forms on the face of your fiancé. "What do I mean? Dearest, I'm talking about your strange behaviour as of late. When I spoke to your mother, she never mentioned that you were such a... busy body who mingled with any creature who craved attention." His eyes flick to his side before a slight frown twitches at the corners of his lips. He immediately leans closer, lacing his fingers with yours on the surface of the blanket between you.
"I worry for you, mundo, deeply so. It's a real danger for the princess of Heaven, if she's taken by an evil band of demons. What would we do without such a treasure in our vault?"
Your heart stops. Surely, you haven't been too obvious in your pursuit of knowledge. Or maybe you have, if even the Duke is aware, it really is only a matter of time before the King hears of this. And what then? Confinement? Trial? Execution? No, as of right now, he's not allowed to execute you. You can bank on that much. But whatever he does decide, it won't pan out well for you. Your worry seems to show at the edges of your features as the Duke offers a small grin.
Iglesias chortles, "Is such a matter that big a concern for you, your highness?" You raise a brow at his antics. "Relax, princess. Your father isn't aware. Yet. His hands are tied with other matters and I haven't mentioned a word of this to him. He's completely in the dark about your sneaking around." A sigh of relief escapes you. Your relief is short before you realise something crucial.
You suspiciously eye the Duke. "There's a but, isn't there?"
He blinks. "A but? Mudo, what would make you think I would introduce such a thing?" he gasps, creating space between you. That isn't a story you're willing to buy. Though, you're not in the business of landing yourself into unnecessary debts. Carefully, you turn your head to the pond ahead.
The silence carried in by the light breeze speaks for you. Your gaze trails to the glistening pond. A graceful, feathered figure glides over the surface— silent, but beautiful. It cranes its head to the water. Both you and the Duke watch it from your spot on the picnic blanket. Beside you, the Duke hums, "Though, if I must decide on something..."
You don't look at him. And you do not need to. He knows you're listening. With that comfort, he turns his head to gaze upon the pond as well. "I must ask for two things."
An eyebrow is arched on your end. "Two? Is that greed I sense?"
"Repayment. I concealed your dealings with Sae from your father and purchased a demonic grimoire. I count those as two tokens of favour for which I may seek payment."
Your heart clenches at the mere mention of the demon's name. To feign nonchalance, you hum in response. A fair trade, really. There isn't much you can fault in such logic. "Fine. Make your demands."
Iglesias shifts back against the bark of the tree. A deep sigh escapes his lips. His eyes fall to your figure— still, tranquil, graceful. For a moment, he's simply admiring you before looking back to the swan on the lake. A few children have gathered along the banks to admire the bird. Some attempt to imitate its refined mannerisms.
Still, it remains untouched— far out of reach.
He's then reminded of you and his relationship with you. Something sophisticated and poised. Even with the limitless knowledge you'd acquired, you are manage to remain just out of reach. Though, he doubts he's the only one who feels so estranged from you. Those within your inner circle seem to be just beyond an arm's length away. Close enough to be associated with your prestige, but much too far to access your wisdom or imitate your way of life.
And yet, it appears that it is what adds to your charm. If he were to reach out now, could he reach you? Would slip into the still waters of your domain and drown? He isn't too sure, but he's curious enough to find out.
"Stay out of Hell's business, your highness."
Huh?
Puzzlement pulls at your face as you whine your head around to him. Your lips part, but no words fall out. They die on the tip of your tongue— equal parts too impactful to be kept unsaid and too weak to be voiced aloud. "And what would that mean?" you ask. Not the question you would've liked to ask, but the only one that was willing to spring forth anyway.
Your eyes meet his and you notice the seriousness in his. A light breeze slips through the pale strands of hair on his head. A puff of air escapes his lips, "Stop digging, your highness. Not only are your hands so ill-suited for such a task, but doing so will only invite unwanted trouble."
'And keep away from him. He only seeks to take you from this realm.'
The words die in his throat. He can't find it in himself to try. In place of his unsaid advice, his hand grabs ahold of yours, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss to your knuckles. "I could never forgive myself, if I allowed such filth to sully the hands of the future queen."
Surprise overtakes your features, giving your eyes wider appearance. There's an odd mix of sincerity in his tone and actions. Before you could fully immerse yourself in the genuine side to the man at your side, a cheeky grin situated itself on his face.
"Besides, you'd look terrible in red and black. Stick to white and gold."
It takes a pregnant period for his words to settle. And when they do, your mood sours. You hiss, "Must you always be so difficult?" A frown etches itself into your features without your permission.
"Difficult? Goodness, cisne mudo, do you take me for a fickle partner? I am merely offering genuine advice," Iglesias quietly sobs, covering his 'wounded' heart with his palm.
This marks the beginning of a back and forth between you. With whatever you say, the Duke has a respond lined up and ready to fire. Each one triggers an even stronger reaction from you than before. A few wandering eyes halt at your hushed, yet agitated tone paired with his playful teasing. Some hum. Others snicker. In the end, your quarrel has become something of a spectacle for the nearby onlookers.
You bite back a curse of your own before Iglesias tugs your hand to his chest. It's then that you're reminded of the fact that his hand still gently cradles yours within the faux warmth of his palm. Your irritated gaze meets his that exudes a certain level of calmness and surety that you currently lack. "I promise, cisne mudo. Should you heed my word, I'll make it worth your while after the current political issues subside. I swear on it— on my honour as the current Duke of Cielo and my future as king of Heaven."
Light glimmers over the surface of his eyes, bringing a glimmer of life to the crimson hue. Perhaps trusting his word may prove to be quite the benefit. This time.
<—{☆}—>
With the Duke's request still ringing in your ears, the carriage pulls into the gates of the Eastern Palace. Much like the trip outside the gate, the cart is deathly silent. After your discussion beneath the tree, neither of you have much more to say. Furthermore, you hadn't explicitly given your own answer. So when the aristocrat watches you disappear behind the grandiose doors of the palace, he finds himself praying for your compliance.
The thought perishes when he notices a second vehicle of conveyance approaching. His eyes spot a flash of striking blonde that he recognises as that of one of your attendants. When she steps out the carriage, she's followed by your second attendant. At the sight of him, both of them tense up with the blonde's eyes displaying a mere flicker of panic. She hugs a small leather box to her chest, the edges worn and its binding tight. The brunette politely bows, the other following suit. It hardly takes a second before the pair scamper in through the doors where he loses sight of them too.
Curiosity gnaws at his soul. The two of them couldn't have possibly left the palace without word from you. Had you sent them? What errands could you have made them run? Does it have anything to do with Hell?
It's in asking these questions that he finds himself browsing through the inventory of the carriage. There's nothing particularly alarming; fabrics, accessories, jewellery, papers and ink. Hardly anything to be so apprehensive over. Is there perhaps something between the—
"And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing, Duke Iglesias?" A stern voice booms. Like a child, the chalk haired man jumps from the trunk of the cart. He spots the royal butler, Leonidas approaching with a few guards— whom he assumes are here to escort the recently procured goods.
A guilty grin stretches across the man's face, "Nothing of concern. Merely..."
He pauses, searching for the right word to describe his actions. "Glancing?" The unimpressed deadpan of the butler mirrors his displeasure. Iglesias deflates, clapping his hands together with a bow. "Please forgive me. I grew curious, you can't blame a man for that, no?"
Leo's frown deepens. He steps closer to Bunny before whispering, "Curious as you may be, I cannot allow you to go sifting through the belongings of her highness. It matters not what your intentions were or what orders you were issued by his majesty."
Without another word, the man pushes past the Duke to retrieve your goods. He's left to stand on his own amidst the crowded yard. And once again, he's finding himself praying to God himself that his concern for your safety is unfounded.
a/n: Finally! We are free! Exams are over (for now) and I'm not suffering from writer's block!
Tags (ask if you want to be added): @zhongchithoughts @pookiei-bookie @napbatata @vhampified
i'm crine urana promised me she wouldn't tell anyone when i told her abt my mental health 😭 😭 why'd she do me like that and create zanka nijiku i'm crineeee 😭 😭 😭
hihiiii! i’d like to request a smut nsfw for the boys of sakamoto days (especially with Nagumo, Natsuki, Shin, and Gaku) where the reader (preferably fem reader) asked if they could do the intimate deed raw for the first time, after always only doing it with protection prior?? thankiess for writing it!! 🫶🏻
Raw. Next question?
Synopsis: You ask the Sakadays men to do it with you raw for the first time. How do they react and treat you thereafter?
Cw: unprotected sex, creampie, established relationships, use of pet names, overstimulation, cursing, cockwarming, teasing, fem!sub!reader, NSFW under the cut.
Shin Asakura
He can hardly believe this is happening. When you stopped him from ripping open another condom, he freezes. It takes him a long while before he even processes your words.
He'll quickly 'recover' and try to keep calm. To ensure and maximise your comfort, he'll definitely push to be top. But, if you can convince him, who is he to say no to your whims. Eventually, you just settle on you riding him. You get to control your pace and he gets to assist with his hands on your waist.
Either way, he's so careful for the first time. It borders on teasing. He genuinely wants to make sure you're ready to take him.
What he doesn't realise is that his lengthy foreplay also seems to draw his patience razor-thin. His cock is just straining and throbbing and he can barely take it anymore. So when he finally slips in— after what feels like hours— he bursts.
I kid you not, getting it in is what does him over. And he is mortified, to say the least. The colour drains from his face and he's going still. He'll just pull back, still in shock. You just kinda stare at each other while he's softening inside you. He'll bury his face in your chest and start kidding and muttering all sorts of apologies. Poor thing, his fingers are even shaking where they cradle your waist.
"Shit, I'm so sorry. I didn't think— Fuck... I'll make it up to you, just please give me a sec."
In his refraction period, he's trailing his hands over your body. He doesn't mind if you do the same. In fact, he's glad when you do— it gets him hard. Which is exactly what he needs right now. He obviously got you off when he at least partly recovered.
Do not bring it up to him again. Or do, you'll be rewarded with a very flustered expression.
Afterward, he's working hard. This will never happen again. (It might, but let him dream.)
Yoichi Nagumo
Oh, he's elated.
You'd be smack bang in the middle of it, when you both realise that the box in the drawer is completely empty. Freaks. He'll jokingly ask if you're willing to let him in raw and when you positively respond? Oh, hell yeah!
He's definitely teasing you, worse than usual— poking and prodding wherever he sees fit, lathering your juices and his saliva everywhere, grinding on you just to get a reaction out of you. He ramps up the pleasure to just above what you can handle before dropping to a near stop. The snickering that follows after every whine of yours is agitating. And then, he narrates everything.
The tight hug of your walls on his dick, the embarrassingly squelch with every thrust, all the way down to the feel of you; nothing is left unsaid. He refuses to shut up. Even if you clamp a hand over his mouth, he'll either lick, bite, pin your hands over your head and out his way or just get obnoxiously louder. What he does really is a dice roll. Despite being rightfully embarrassed by his narration, you're still turned on by it. Somehow.
"Ngh... look at that. Pretty pussy's just starving for me, isn't she? Just gobbling my cock right up— Hah! Just lay there and keep taking it."
He's messy with it. Keeping you slick for him, dumping load after load into you, biting and licking and your skin wherever possible. And don't get me started on his moans. Ringing right in your ears— shameless and obscene.
Don't be fooled by his cheeky grin, limitless stamina and sparky remarks. He's just as affected by this as you. You're even softer and warmed than he'd initially imagined. His brain is practically turning to mush— he's just not willing to show it. If you look closely at his ears or deeply into the pitch black of his iris, his real feelings are soon revealed. You'll notice a red tint on the tips and the dilation of his pupils. Clear giveaways.
Natsuki Seba
Oh.
Oh, he's genuinely freaking out! You're willing to take that step? With him? Sure, he supposes. He sincerely doubts that it'll change much about the experience, but he's happy that you trust him enough to take him without protection.
Since he doesn't see anything particularly special about this, he doesn't change much in the routine. Foreplay is the same. His hands follow the same trails, blazing a path for his lips. He'll still grind up against you, just as he always does. Sure, the both of you notice the slight stutter in his hips when he finally gets to feel just how wet you are. But he chalks it up to it being a new experience for him. With this in mind, he's slipping in without a second thought.
And oh, he never expected it to feel this good. For a moment, his brain short-circuits. Complete sensory overload. Give him a minute. Sure, he'd already felt you up with his fingers. But nothing could've prepared him for the real deal. You're just too wet— much wetter than he thought he could handle.
"Ah... Shit— sorry, sorry. Didn't think you'd feel so wet, baby. Gimme a second."
Once he has his brain, that's when he gets to work. It starts off the same as usual— measured thrusts that seem the slightest bit more heavy than usual. That's not solely blamed on the lack of protection, but Natsuki himself too. His mind and body feel heavier than usual and his movements reflect that.
Either way, he tries not to let it get in the way too much. You love and trust him— he's not going to make you regret that. But don't be too surprised when this becomes a routine.
Gaku
Mr "nonchalant..."
He'll give a low hum and shrug off his clothes with a black expression. Though, you'll notice a small glimmer in his eye. Almost as if he was waiting for you to just ask. And low-key?
He was! The whole thing of wrapping himself up has been lowkey peeving him for a little while now. He has been waiting for the millisecond you finally wanted as much of him as he does you. Though, he does get your caution, when it comes to sex.
But who cares about all that when he finally has everything he has ever wanted in this very moment. And he is definitely taking advantage of this opportunity.
Foreplay is the same. Mostly. You can tell that he's doing what he is very impatiently preparing you. If he had it his way, he'd skip all this and get to the good part. But he needs you ready and open, so he'll hold back. For now.
Somehow, he's even greedier — rougher than what he usually is. His usual sucks and bites burn deeper into your skin. His hands, course as they are, dig into your skin. Clothes are torn and haphazardly discarded.
Sure, he's not just stuffing himself into you, but he's not kind in his motions either. You're being bent into as many positions as can be managed, taking every brutal thrust and every heavy load that follows after.
"Nuh-uh! You don't get to run from me, bunny. You got to have your fun, so let me have some too."
There doesn't seem to be an end. He's nice enough to satisfy you first— get you nice and soaked on his fingers and cock until you're trembling. Then, it's his turn. And he is going to make sure to gets his fill.
Aftercare is good enough. You'll be practically passed out by then, so he's the one doing most of the work. But like, what's new? There'll be light massages and water before he cuddles up to you and makes you cockwarm him to sleep.
Shishiba
He'll act like this isn't a big deal, but he's genuinely freaking out. You already bring him close to unravelling at a mere graze of the skin against his. The condoms have been saving his dignity. He still barely managed to hold off and walk away like the cool, collected man he wants you to believe he is.
The heck is he supposed to do now????
It's not like he'll deny you. How could he? You're his angel. And whatever his angel wants, his angel shall receive. So he goes slow. Almost painfully so.
Yes, he wants you to be comfortable and ready. But he's also stalling for time. The longer he drags you on, the more time he has to psych himself up and not make a fool of himself.
When he finally does slip in, it's done with a kiss and intense eye contact. His hands cradle your face and waist. He's careful when he does it. Again, an act to distract himself.
He starts off slow and controlled— measured thrusts, passionate kisses, softly whispered sweet nothings in your ear. It's pleasurable, yes, but simply not enough. He's there, but not exactly hitting as precisely as he should be. So when you tug at his golden locks and plead with him to pick up the pace, he can only groan in response.
"Please, angel, don't make this harder than what it needs to be. I'm already struggling as is."
He'll still do as you ask, don't worry. He'd fulfill any wish. Including his cum inside you. Since this moment is warm and tender moment needs an equally as comforting ending.
a/n: Getting back on the grind of sifting through my requests. Yes, they've been closed for a long time and yes, I've been slowly widdling away at them during that time.
That being said, back on the actual drabble. It has been SO long since I've written anything remotely smutty, so I apologise if this wasn't as good as usual. Also added Shishiba because I missed writing for him.🤧
Finished this while playing the new Sumeru quest. Genuinely some of Genshin's best works. (That's not saying much, but whatever 🤷🏽♀️)
Do you think Endeavor would have changed if he never became the No 1 hero after All Might's retirement, maybe because Hawks beat him to it? If not, would he have eventually changed after perhaps seeing Dabi slowly die in that tube? Is there anything that could have happened to his family that would cause him to reflect on his actions, if he never became the No 1 hero? Would Endeavor still find trying to be No 1 worthwhile if he's not competing against All Might?
Short answer: no.
Endeavour made it incredibly clear that how he treats his family behind closed doors and how it affects them are of little concern to him. When Touya died, he didn't stop. In fact, you could say it kinda got worse to a certain degree. He doesn't stop when All Might tells him to. He seems pretty okay with yelling out to a crowd of heroes and children that he only had children to surpass All Might. Mind you, he's aware of who's there, who can hear him and the fact that this is on LIVE NATIONAL TELEVISION. So everybody knows his business.
I sincerely believe the only reason Endeavour actually set himself on a path of atonement was because he succeeded in a way he hadn't planned. Hed initially planned to excuse his insane behaviour by showing how strong Shoto turned out. But he just... won. So he kinda just went: "Wow, I guess I no longer have to abuse my family anymore. 🤷🏽♀️ That's cool. Now, let's see if they want a dad again🏃🏽♀️"
But maybe, MAYBE, after he retires and has NOTHING better to do other than hang with his children and their children. He'll reach out and all of them except Fuyumi will just ghost him. MAYBE then, he'd feel some form of guilt. Or if he visits Rei and she doesn't want to see him.
In summary, I have no faith in his ability to have compassion or feel remorse for his behaviour and ill-treatment of his family. He'd first need to value them as people or feel inferior by not having them around (the same way he felt when All Might was still in the ranks.) Until he views them as something as important as his goals and career, he's not going to care.
But on the position as #1 without All Might, maybe? It's difficult to say. He does have a natural competitive spirt and likes the title of #1. But I doubt he'd be as obsessed with it if All Might wasn't there.
A part of me thinks that he and Bakugo share a similar view on heroism: the strongest guy who can beat up all the bad guys = the best hero to ever exist. So on that front, I do think he'd see it as some form of a challenge to prove his strength. But that's just my thoughts on it. Definitely something I'm willing to look into now 🏃🏽♀️🏃🏽♀️
"I really am happy that you decided to accompany me this afternoon." You glance at his side profile for a moment.
"It would be rude to ignore your invitation, no?" At the back of your mind, you envision a stern Georgia watching you from over your shoulder. Truth be told, you're not sure why such a vision frightens you to the point of obedience. Your response earns a quiet chuckle from the man. "Anyway, you never mentioned what you planned for us today."
The Duke turns to you with a gleeful grin stretched across his lips. "That's because it'll be a surprise."
"A surprise?" you parrot, shifting your gaze to your surroundings again. A deadpan expression flattens the features of your face.
"A surprise," he repeats. "I figured a woman such as yourself would need one to brighten her day." His grin widens as he leads closer to you. You flinch with a slight forcing, causing his own expression to flicker with surprise. He smoothly pulls away soon after.
You avert your gaze to the stalls that surround you. Duke Iglesias is a great many things: a sly man, distrustful, somehow just out of reach. But you can't exactly call him a liar either. He's right, the capital really is soothing. It's warm, radiant. It's difficult to maintain a cool facade when all you can see with the naked eye is contentment on every face. The smile that tugs at your lips is a direct result of that.
