synopsis : a tiny fever, a strict no-kissing rule, and a husband who’s hanging on by a thread until you’re finally well again
content: 18+, smut — fingering, oral, blowjob, lowkey sub william, little bit of plot to build up
word count: 5.7k
note: free will means writing this niche btw is this fandom non existent anm
The morning had only begun to rise when William started to prepare for whatever the day had prepared for him. On the vanity—that is so full of your things—he pats along the creases of his suit, he tightens his tie and secures the last button of his blazer. And at last, he looks every inch of the professor that he is.
He stares at himself through the mirror for a second before his eyes instinctively drift towards the bed where you, his dear wife, sleeps in uninterrupted slumber. Wrapped around the sheets, and your hair stuck in all sorts of directions. And although William would much rather you know that he will be leaving soon for the university, he can’t help but let you sleep in for you look so utterly in peace.
He approaches the bed, puts on knee on the mattress before leaning down and brushing away a few stray strands of hair that covered your forehead. He opts for a forehead kiss as a form of temporary goodbye. He sinks down, letting his soft lips land on your equally soft skin. He kisses gently, as if scared you might squirm and eventually wake up but no, you remain entirely cooped up against the sheets with no knowledge of William kissing you goodbye.
He exits the bedroom, calls over Ms. Athena—your lady’s maid—instructing her that he will be back by luncheon. “Please take care of her until then.” He bids goodbye to the staff before hopping on the carriage to leave for the university.
The manor is quiet, much like any other day, but today is especially silent. There’s no ruckus going on down stairs, Ms. Athena is oddly listless aside from housekeeping duties, Albert and Louis seem to have been freed of their brotherly duties as of now. And it’s disturbing, considering it’s almost eleven and there’s still no sign of the dear missus of the house.
Ms. Athena stands by a vase, picking up wilting petals and changing the water. She’s tranquil for all her duties this morning is merely… changing the flowers. But her solitude is interrupted when she hears footsteps cascading down the staircase, she looks up, sighing when she sees Lord Albert Moriarty clad in his usual attire.
“My Lord.” she calls out, tilting her head to the side. “Is there anything I can help you with, my Lord?” She inquires, finding Albert suddenly leaving his study at such an early hour a tad bit strange because he would usually stay in an undisturbed working state until the hour of luncheon. To think that he has voluntarily left his study is odd.
Albert looks around for a second, hand ghosting against the staircase railings. When he finds no sign of the one he’s searching for, he looks back to Ms. Athena. “And where is your mistress?”
Athena’s smile drops to a frown when she realizes what disrupted the entire rhythm of her usually hectic mornings—her mistress hasn’t gone down from their bedchamber yet!
She clutches her head in her hands before dropping the flowers back onto the vase—wilted or not. Immediately running towards Albert to apologize, “forgive me, my Lord. My mistress dislikes being woken up so I assumed it would be all right to leave her to fend for herself. But it seems like… it has gone overtime.” She sighs whilst looking at the grandfather clock where the time read an incredibly late hour for waking up.
“I shall get her ready for the day.” She bows down before rushing towards your bedchamber. She pats down her uniform before knocking against it. When she hears no response from the other side, she holds the door knob and finds it unlocked. William must have kept it unlocked when he left.
She turns the door knob slightly, “I’m entering, Ma’am.” She warns before hopping into the room. She’s met with utter darkness—the curtains haven't been drawn, the lights are turned off and you’re still buried underneath the layers of your bed.
She sighs at the sight of you lazily sprawled out on the bed. One hand laid across where William’s warmth remained while the other hugged a pillow. She approaches the bed, pulling the sheets off of you only to see you still asleep—not pretending—and resting against the comfort of your warm sheets.
“Madam, it’s almost time for lunch. You’ve missed breakfast with Lord Albert and Sir Louis, your husband has left for university and yet still…” She sighs, unable to contain her disappointment. “I understand you are tired, Ma’am. But you have duties as well.” She subtly scolds whilst folding the sheets and tossing them onto William’s side of the bed.
She sees no motivation from you, and it’s obvious that you’re not willing to get up. She rolls her eyes, “madam. Your husband will be arriving soon, I’m sure Sir William wouldn’t be too thrilled to see you lazing around.” There’s humor in her voice, testimony of the comfort she feels for serving you after many years.
You finally squirm, moving to the side to face her. Your eyes are half-lidded, your cheeks red, and your hair stuck onto your forehead because of sweat. “Don’t go threatening me using my own husband now, Athena.” Your voice is hoarse, struggle evident in your tone and when you try to sit up, it’s almost like your strength has left you because you immediately plop down.
Athena’s eyebrows creased, rushing towards you to confirm something. She pulls you in, putting her forehead against yours and she sighs. She feels the warmth spread to hers almost immediately, that tender, painful kind of warmth—hotness that’s only present in sick individuals.
“You’ve come down with a fever, madam.” She pulls back, unfolding one sheet again to put around you. “No wonder you’ve no energy to wake up and start the day.” She chuckles, tucking you back into where you were just a moment ago—comfortably resting.
“I’ll inform His Lordship and Sir Louis about this.” She stands back up, opening only one light to keep the room from disappearing in the darkness. A small crack of the curtain to let natural light in and the rest is a sanctuary in disguise. “Please have plenty of rest, madam. Sir William will be arriving shortly.”
You sink back into the covers, darkness enveloping you as the door clicks shut and Athena’s footsteps resign to the halls. You’re utterly defeated by this sense of temporary weakness—overtaken with intense fatigue that you have no way of fighting against, and coldness that bites you despite the kind warmth that’s circulating.
Athena makes her way towards Albert’s study, knocking before intruding. The Count looks up from his stack of correspondences, a concerned look washes over his expression because it’s unusual for Athena to confide in him as you rarely gave her any reason to do so. “Is something the matter?”
Athena frowns, “my mistress is indisposed, my Lord. It seems like she has come down with some sort of fever.”
Albert drops his pen down, closing a folder of notices he’s yet to sign before standing up. “I see. I shall call for the family physician.” He nods over to Athena with a reassuring smile, “for the meantime, do take care of her.”
Athena returns the smile, bowing down before pivoting on her heel to turn around but she’s stopped when a thought clouds over her. “I apologize if she cannot tend to her responsibilities right now, my Lord.” She is reminded of the itinerary of events that you should be attending this day and she feels the need to apologize for having to pass those responsibilities to Albert.
Albert chuckles, waving his hand around. “Do not worry, Ms. Athena. I assure you, they are all covered.” Athena sighs in relief, it really is nice to have such a dependable master.
You, on the other hand, are heaving out a sigh of relief. Even though coming down with a fever isn’t the most ideal situation to be in, having an excuse to not attend three parties in one day isn’t all that bad. Networking is important with nobles, and as the new missus of the Moriarty Earldom, you are required to attend as many gatherings as you could to strengthen ties with other families.
You’ve tried ranting about it to William, even talking to Louis about it but they all came down with one conclusion: tell Albert. And Albert is an adamant man who shows no mercy to you—the only sister he’s had that became the sole subject to his endless teasing. And as the reason for your packed schedule, it is only right that it is his job to politely cancel all of them for you are indisposed.
The door opens quietly and you fear that you’ve lost track of time. The bright sun you see through the crack of the curtain tells you that it’s probably almost lunch. You sit up, exhaling a groan when you do so because you feel as though your bones are going to crack any time soon.
“No need to push yourself, Miss Moriarty.” An elderly voice sounds out to you before the lights are turned on. You hiss at the sudden illumination, eyes are yet to adjust to the newfound brightness of the formerly dim room. “You can rest your back against the bed.” There’s a warm smile on their face, they wore a white robe, and a few instruments in hand. Perhaps, a doctor? You think.
You do as you’re told before your eyesight finally returns to normal. She is a doctor. She sits opposite to you, taking out an apparatus before instructing you on what to do. The process itself was uncomfortable, the least awkward thing she did was put a stick of something through your throat to test out something. As far as you’re concerned, she’s an expert, and you’re sick. So you let her do what she had to do, that is, while occasionally coughing out.
“It’s merely a common cold, Madam. Nothing to be worried about. Though it seems like you’re overworking yourself, so it may be best to take a few weeks off from your duties if possible.” She stands up, cleaning up her things before turning to the doorway where Albert and the others stood by watching. “And of course, you need to take medication.”
On the nightstand is a palette of medication—tablets and capsules of vitamins. Your eyes shut close, despair dooming over you. Your shoulders slump ever so slightly before you sink back down under the covers.
Albert notices you from the doorway, a careful smile on his lips before he makes his way towards you. “Medicine.” He starts and your eyebrows crease, irritation growing inside of you. “Ah, my dear sister’s best friend.” He twirls the medicine in his hand, watching your expression with a teasing smile on his lips.
You roll your eyes before standing back up when the physician exits the room, leaving you and Albert alone. “I’m not taking that, Albert.” You look up at him, eyes begging him to change the inevitable—you taking medicine.
But it merely coaxes a chuckle out of him, he puts the medicine down before pulling the covers off of you so that you can be fanned by the natural air. “William wouldn’t be so thrilled to hear that from you, [Name].” He turns around, “now come along. You ought to get ready at least, you still need to eat. And, he will be coming home soon I presume.”
You let out a defeated huff, nestling back into the covers without one bit of motivation to start the day in you after knowing the newfound information with medicine included in it. Medicine, for as long as you can remember, is bitter. And that is all that you needed to know about it for you to hate it—coffee, medicine, anything smeared in bitterness, you dislike. Everyone in the household knew that, even the Cook avoids using bitter spices in your meals.
But William isn’t so very fond of you refusing help. You’ve been sick before, and all those times you relied on your immune system to bring you back to an optimized state. But this fever came with a medicine-bearing physician who so explicitly instructed that you take them. And William would know soon enough about your adamant denial and you know you’re in for some scolding.
“Miss.” Athena’s voice murmurs in your ears and you’re brought back to reality—the reality where you have to get ready, eat lunch, and take that concoction they call medicine. “Let us get you ready.”
In the vanity, you watched Athena through the mirror do your hair. She pulls lighter than usual, constantly reminding herself that her mistress is sick therefore should be handled with greater care. You frown at this, “I’m not a fragile doll, Athena. My hair will come loose if you continue that.”
She huffs behind you, securing the barrette on your hairdo with a tighter pull. “I apologize, Miss.” You can’t blame her, it is after all, her first time taking care of you while you’re sick.
With unsuspecting eyes, you watch her. “Tell me, Athena.” You start, “do you think… William would be mad if I refused to take the medicine?” As if the answer wouldn’t be as clear as the water in the untouched regions of the ocean, you asked her.
She stares back at you with a deadpan expression on her face. “Well, of course he would—”
“But hear me out—!” You interrupt, squirming in your seat making her let go of your hair that she had already bundled up in pieces for your hairdo. “William is my husband, correct? And he has courted me several years ago before marrying, therefore he knows about my constant disdain towards bitter medication, yes? So what reason does he have not to cut me some slack?”
Athena sighs at your rather ridiculous question. She puffs out your hair, putting it around your shoulders so you can see. “I’m afraid his vows outweigh all of those factors, miss.” Ah, his vows—in sickness and in his health.
You sigh, shoulders slumping in your seat before you finally stand up after Athena secures the final button on your dress. It feels airy, unlike your usual attire that consisted of a corset inside. Athena, who is so caring, took the initiative to change you into a much comfortable attire to compensate for your lack of motivation to even get ready for the day due to feeling under the weather.
“Thank you, Athena.”
She smiles at this, a blush spreading across her cheeks when she hears your words of gratitude. She nods enthusiastically before pointing towards the door, “lunch shouldn’t be too long now, miss. Shall we head to the dining area?”
William rode the carriage back home, head leaning against the side watching commoners run amok the streets while protesting against the nobles who dared to trespass their territories. His heart aches for the marginalized, the very people who chose to fight for. He looks away once they finally rode off the slums and back onto the streets that led to the manor.
Within a matter of minutes, his pondering comes to a halt when the carriage box opens. He realizes that they’ve arrived back home, “ah. So soon.” He chuckles before hopping off the vehicle and he’s greeted by the manor’s footmen.
“Welcome back, Sir William.” The footman salutes and he does the same. The carriage leaves with one instruction from the coachman and he’s come face to face with a rather concerned-looking footman. “Miss [Name] has come down with sickness, sir.”
His eyebrows lift up with the recently acquired knowledge about his wife. He hands his leather satchel to a nearby butler before unlinking his cuffs and unbuttoning his outer blazer to relieve himself of the suffocating professor image. “I see.”
He heads towards the drawing room where he supposes you’re staying because Albert is probably discouraging you to stay in your room for the rest of the day with little to no physical action done.
He hears your laugh echo through the hallway leading to the drawing room and a soft smile settles on his lips almost immediately. His shoulders physically slump with the thought of you having fun despite being indisposed. Athena’s voice ripples afterwards and another assured grin falls on his face for it seems like your lady’s maid is the best in her job.
The footman stationed in the drawing room bows when he notices William’s presence nearing. He dismisses him before entering, encasing his footsteps in a silenced cage in hopes that you’d be delighted to see him so early. And alas, he’s correct.
Your face brightens up and you see William through Athena’s shoulder. A beaming smile quickly replaces your frowning expression because you’ve been convincing Athena that missing just one designated time for medication wouldn’t put you through much trouble.
“Hello, darling.” He greets, approaching you with hastened steps, as if he’s been away from you for far too long that his body has begun acting much like a magnet attracted to another. He opens his arms wide, expecting you to dive in them but he’s met with air instead.
You stand by a distance from him, hands clasped in front of you and an innocent smile on your lips—innocent enough that one wouldn’t think you’ve just deprived your husband of his usual welcome hugs. You chuckle from where you stood, finding William’s astounded expression most amusing. “Hello to you too, William.”
His arms drop to his side and he lets out a resigned laugh. “Come on, [Name].” He ushers but you don’t budge. You stay unmoving from where you stood just a tad bit away from him, teasing him when impatience paints over his expression—William is rather demandingly clingy to his wife.
“No.” You refuse. “You cannot be catching whatever sickness I have. Unlike me, you go out everyday and interact with adolescent scholars.” Your reason is ridiculous to him because a mere hug cannot possibly have him catching your fever.
It goes on for at least six days, and William’s restraint is something to applaud for. Every night, you turn to the side, facing away from him, even going as far as to face the wall if you needed to. Even if the cold breeze was too much to handle and all that you needed was a warm hug from your dear husband to lull you to sleep.
But, you were very insistent. You dare not give in to your equally impatient desires to smooch a big fat kiss onto your husband’s waiting lips.
He went to the university to teach without a goodbye kiss from his wife and his students noticed the slightest shift in his mood. Their usually calm mathematics professor had suddenly become stricter—scolding roaming students, and berating student couples who dare to do public displays of affection.
Even if your aching core had begun pulsating with the desire to pounce on your husband every time he came home from the university and stripping himself off the waist coat he wore, you didn’t give in.
All that you could do whilst you recovered from the mild fever you acquired to ease the frustration was to get off in the bathroom every morning while your husband was out teaching.
However as you watched your long fingers getting swallowed whole by your slick pussy, you didn’t exactly feel the satisfaction that you usually would whenever it’s William’s finger who was doing the job. Albeit having slender fingers, you still can't reach the pinnacle of your high, and oftentimes you were merely getting off with the feeling of edging.
The evening was fair and there were hardly any distractions from the outside of the library that kept your attention from the romance book you found laying on one of William’s shelves. You find yourself immersed in the newfound world you read in some fantasy novel that you’re quite surprised to see a part of the family’s library, let alone in one of your husband’s designated shelves.
You let out a gasp when your eyes wander off the letters that vividly depicts a rather intimate scene between the two characters. You feel your cheeks getting warmer and your stomach churning in a familiar circle, you close the book immediately before you get carried away and actually read the entirety of the erotica.
The hinges of the door creak ever so softly and when you look up, you see a familiar blond man entering with his usual propriety. A smile makes its way to your lips when he begins to approach you where you’re seated on one of the library’s sofas.
“I knew I’d find you here.” William beckons you to come forward yet you don’t move. Instead, you let him come to you. “Athena informed me that you’re free of your ailment, is that right?” He asks, foot steps getting lighter as he’s inching even closer to you.
You giggle from your seat, an enthusiastic grin plastered on your lips as though you’re excited to tell him something. “Come check for yourself, Will.” In contrast to your sick self, you’re more open now. And William is still the opportunistic man that he is, so when your arms open wide, he doesn’t hesitate to hold you by your torso, carrying you up until he’s got you perched on the desk.
“I see you’re finally allowing me some physical touch.” Relieved, he lets out a humorous laugh while recalling the six days he’s spent in excellent restraint because you’ve been declining every single one of his attempts to hold you or kiss you in any way.
You snicker girly, “well it seems like you’re deserving. After all, you’ve been nothing but good these past days while I was still indisposed. I shall grant you your reward, my love.” You propose proudly, chin tilted up in a confident manner while he is hunched in front of you, both hands on either side of your hips against the table.
He stood in between your knees, head tilting low and he swears he can see your cleavage from the low fitting of your night gown. There’s a knowing smile on his lips, scarlet eyes glinting equally hungry intentions.
He runs a hand up your waist, fingers slenderly moving up and down against the waist band he feels beneath your thin gown. “You ought to choose your words carefully, my love.” He hums out, voice brimming with temptation that you can hardly ever resist no matter what time of the day it is.
You let out a whine in response, igniting whatever unlit fire you’re starting inside of him. You shoot him a provocative smile, eyes half-lidded as you’re telling him something that you wish for him to understand even if you don’t say the words. “Go on, Professor Moriarty. I shall pay you whatever I owe you.”
He watches in complete amusement. His wife, who was just denying him of his husband rights the other day, is now portraying an incredibly bold character in front of him. He lets out a huff, an interested glow in his eyes before his hand stops rubbing to settle on the low drop of your hips. Yet you feel his thumb, caressing the curve that led to the inside of your thighs.
“I am certain…” He starts, eyes staring at you then down to your lips and even lower to where the creases of your dress begin. “That you, darling, owe me six days worth of your kisses and love.” He wastes no second diving into your heat, lips colliding with yours in practiced perfection.
His hand reaches up, trailing on the side of your body as it does so. It reaches up the side of your clothed boobs and it lingers there for a while as if he intends to rile you then soon traces up to settle on your neck where he held you before deepening the kiss. Going as far as to request entrance to your mouth, and when you oblige, his tongue ties with yours. Your saliva mixes without restraint and there’s evident frustration with the way he tugs onto your untied hair.
He leans away, lips slightly glossed with your pink balm. “I wonder…” He strokes your cheek with his thumb, “if one night can really suffice for whatever you owe me.”
You chuckle before pulling him back in, hands tugging onto his dress shirt as your lips lock with each other again. He kisses back with equal fervor and impatience, hands never endingly exploring yours as if he hasn’t got your entire body committed to memory.
“My dear William, if you think one night is not enough,” you start, giggling in between kisses. “Then you ought to start as soon as possible for it to become more than enough.”
William breathes out against your lips, the smile etched on his face never seems to cease as your teasing goes far beyond what he can handle. His impatient fingers finally took hold of the ribbon that cinched behind you, undoing it in one smooth move and the cold breeze hit your naked skin from behind.
Your laughter echoes through the thick walls of the library, the lights partly dim and there’s tranquil silence behind the door that you didn’t bother to lock because it’s late in the evening and everyone has retired to their rooms. You and William alone in this quiet solitude, hands friskly roaming each other’s bodies with oozing eagerness.
“You seem aggravated, my love.” You chuckle. “I suppose I really had you waiting on edge every night these past six days, hm?” You tease, and William is utterly so in love with you that he falls for such tricks.
He doesn’t pull your night gown off yet, instead, he lowers himself down. He pushes you into the center of the desk until his head is smushed in between your thighs and he’s on his knees, both of your knees on his shoulders and his hair is merely the only thing you can see.
There’s a sly smile on your lips when you feel his lips on the insides of your thighs. Trailing flattering kisses before sucking on them. The feeling of his tongue swirling around one spot he has begun sucking on had you arching on the desk. Your head drops onto the surface and your back arches with the ardor of his kisses, biting down on your lips when a sound threatens to leave.
He dares not to speak a warning when his fingers tug onto the waistband of your panties, he pulls them down suddenly and you feel his breath fanning over your soaking cunt.
In a mere matter of seconds, he’s got his tongue protruding on the entrance of your slick. By the feel of it, you’re quite sure he’s covered in your wetness.
“Ngh—Will—” your attempt to keep quiet had surrendered when his practiced precision began working wonders against your pussy—he’s sucking, kissing, and lapping on your cunt like he’s been deprived of it for years.
You can hear the vile sound of him eating you out and when you try to close your thighs together in hopes to ease out the stimulation you feel building up, he holds them apart. Even going as far as you open them as far as possible. The sight is sinful—your legs spread apart, back arching against the table and your fingers in your mouth while your husband desperately eats you out.
You want it to last longer but the knot has been growing tighter and tighter. “Oh, Will—I’m going to ah—cum—!” You yell out against your saliva covered fingers, feeling your legs tremble when he begins circling on your clit.
Just when you thought it’s not going to get any better than this, he has driven you off to wonderland. You moan out helplessly, eyes going to the back of your head when you gush out your white goodness everywhere.
You spill out in front of him, he speaks nothing while he watches you do so. There’s merely a smug smile on his lips as he wipes off the mess you made of him. “I’m starting to think whether I’m truly the only one who was waiting on edge these past six days, darling.”
You shake your head while he leans down over you on the table, hovering above you as his hands go around your shoulders to pull the night gown off of you. Now, you’re naked sprawled across the desk of his library. He deems this the most artistic sight he has ever laid eyes on.
Your husband begins unbuttoning his dress shirt where his pale skin hides underneath. He tugs it off with one swift move and he’s left with only his slacks on.
You smile at the sight, still standing in between your legs, your half-naked husband drawls before you with a hungry glint in his eyes. Who wouldn’t have such thoughts if their wife was spread before them, naked and breathing heavily from intense stimulation?
He reaches out for your hand, the one that bore your wedding ring. He swirls his finger around it before he guides you to touch the toned flesh on his abdomen. “Touch me, please.” He begs of you, a lopsided grin on his lips as your fingers begin to move on their own.
Then slowly, you drag your palm across his navel. All while keeping eye-contact with him—he who wore a lustful smile on his lips that mirror your equally enthusiastic grin. Calmly, you drag it even lower. Until, your fingers settle on the buckle of his belt and even lower to where an erection has begun growing.
You palm him through his pants, a teasing grin falling on your expression once you sit up to come face to face with him again. You pull him into a kiss, fingers beginning to undo the buckle of his pants and finally freeing his erection.
His dick springs out and you pull away, you watch it twitch in impatience and you can’t help but chuckle. You hop off the desk with his help and you pull him to one last kiss, “I shall give that some love too, yes?” You say before dropping onto your knees at an exceptionally slow pace, wiggling your ass once your knees buck.
You fall onto your knees, the cold tiles of the library making contact with your knees and you swear if you stay like that you’d acquire bruises. But that’s the least of your concern when you’re now face to face with his erection—pulsating and throbbing with evident desire.
You let your fingers run their course along his veiny length, teasing him ever so slightly when you press your cheek against it. He looks down at you, an unmistakable spark of attraction present in his scarlet orbs. He reaches down, stroking the top of your head.
“Would you like a kiss here too? To compensate for the lack of kisses you received these past six days?” You taunt playfully, voice lolling out words that initiate a certain magnetism in him.
He nods his head, and you’re quite familiar with this sight—William standing before you, wordlessly begging that you put your pretty lips around his aching cock. His eyes half-lidded and his usually steady fingers trembling as he strokes your head, mindlessly guiding you around to poke his tip against your cheek.
“Yes, please… do, darling.” He lowly whispers, a whine evident as he does so.
You giggle in response before finally giving into your husband’s wishes. You lean back, watching him up and your eyes are imitating that of a mischief. All while keeping eye-contact, you bring your saliva-glossed lips to his tip that has been leaking precum ever since you stripped him off his pants.
He groans at the feeling of your lips on his tip, his stomach aching with desire that he so seeks to attend to. But you’re painfully slow in doing your job—tracing your fingers on his length while your lips pepper kisses along it.
“Hurry, darling… I—ah—need you around me.” William has never been the vocal one in the two of you. He much preferred to keep his sounds to himself but you guess that the six-days of pent up sexual frustration has brought him to voice things out.
He tugs harshly on your hair when you finally put him inside of your mouth. You swirl your tongue around him and you feel his veiny girth around, it’s not an unusual feeling but the throbbing is—it merely shows how much William needed you around him.
You bop your head back and forth along his length while your eyes looked up at him, watching his face contort with blissful pleasure. You do your job expertly, swirling your tongue around while you do—just like how William likes it.
“Oh, fuck—darling, I am going to fucking cum.” He moans out slowly, dragging his words, looking down on you with his eyebrows furrowed when he’s washed over with euphoria from your proficient tongue doing wonders on his dick.
You continue the repetitive motion, letting your tongue slide with the movement, coating William’s dick with your saliva. You feel his cock throb inside you, his knees slightly bucking and there’s a choked moan that leaves his lips at the same time your mouth is filled with the cum he’s spilling out.
You look up at him while he’s stroking himself to get himself off the excruciatingly blissful high he’s on. A kinky smile on your lips when he meets your eyes, you open your lips agape and he revels in the sight of your mouth that is so full of his cum.
“I suppose… with that look on your face, darling,” you stand back up, pushing yourself against him until your perked up nipples touch his toned chest, “you are not satisfied.”
He swallows before both of his palms trace down your legs until they cup the curve of your ass. He palms you from there before carrying you in his arms and you immediately put your legs around his hips, giggling delightfully when you realize he still wants more.
“Our bedroom isn’t too far from here, yes?”
i doubt this will get engagement bcs i wrote this simply for my own self indulgent tendencies xd
synopsis: you and nagumo are assigned to infiltrate an exclusive gala under the guise of a married couple, forcing you both into a night to untangle loose ends
the tone that you used is sharp, hostility evident with the way that your lips loll out the words. then followed a scoff, then a roll of your eyes, and finally, a scowl. the lack of response tells you everything, you will be sent on a joint assignment.
after a short while, you finally admit defeat—you can't possibly escape an assignment requested by the higher-ups. a sigh leaves your lips before your hand settles on the curve of your hips, posture slightly lopsided with the helplessness that you feel.
with a defeated tone, you ask. "so? who am i doing this with?"
your superior's lips move and you make out the sound that leaves them. but when you realize whose name it belonged to, it blurs right into your ears and you short-circuit—your eyesight physically blurs and everything sounds so distant all of the sudden, your lips agape with shock and denial.
"what?" your lips twitches upwards into a crooked smile, "can you—can you repeat that?"
your superior sighs before shoving in a folder in front of you. you catch it with ease before frantically opening it; inside is a stapled document—formal statement requesting the assignment be carried out as soon as possible by the assigned personnel.
your name is clearly written as the primary operative. and below your name is the executive assigned to supervise the case—the order member: nagumo yoichi.
your arms weaken at the newfound information of your upcoming assignment. there's a scoff that leaves your lips when you finish reading the entirety of the documents, including the content of the assignment itself.
you lick your lips before slamming the folder back onto your superior's table. "with all due respect, sir, i don't think i am fit for this assignment—" you sound out flabbergastedly, "a high-profile celebration, sir? i have not the necessary foundation to act out my part properly—"
"you do it or you don't, [name]." his voice is stern while he looks up at you, "don't disappoint me."
you're left speechless. you're stuck with this assignment whether you like it or not. you bite down your worry before finally standing up straight in front of him, "i understand, sir."
he turns around before flicking his fingers towards the door, "meet with nagumo. i'm certain he is awaiting your arrival in the order's conference room."
you stand there for a while, unmoving with your lips open and a frustrated sigh leaves it before you finally decide to turn your back and leave the room with a godforsaken assignment weighing on your shoulders. you shut the door behind you and you stood there, in the tiled hallway of the jaa headquarters, head tilting low and your hands circling into fists that you feel stinging against your skin when your nail digs into it.
but that's all that you give yourself—just a quick moment of unrestrained frustration. because the next thing you're doing is walking down the hallway towards the conference room with a smile, bowing to everyone who passed by you.
you don't even waste a second before swinging the door open, the metal hinges creaking loudly from the harsh push. your blood immediately boils when your vision catches a certain ravenette toying with a pen, sitting on a chair with his back facing you and a blond one seated opposite to him.
you glare towards shishiba, the one who shrugged his shoulders when he sees you swing the door open, before stomping your way towards the man who has his back facing you.
grabbing the chair tightly before turning it around. he swirls in place and when he finally comes face to face with you, there is that never-changing, annoying smile plastered across his lips. you scoff out sarcastically before clutching onto the fabric of his clothes in front, you lift him up a bit and he puts his hands in the air.
"don't fuck with me, nagumo!" you yell out, your volume reverberating across the closed area of the conference room. "i know you arranged this stupid shit. get my name off that assignment, you fucker." your hold against him tightens until he finally feels suffocated and pulls your hand away, but to his dismay, you don't budge.
he gives up on that and flicks a hand towards shishiba. "can we have the room please?"
the blond man huffs before kicking himself off the seat. "geez, get your divorce settled, nagumo. these angry wives will catch up to you soon—"
"we're not married!" you yell out but shishiba has already shut the door close behind him, leaving only you and nagumo inside the close-area, rather claustrophobic order conference room.
you nod towards the man you hold against your chest, your anger seething out. you clutch tighter as an encouragement to get him to explain but he doesn't let out a single sound, instead he looks straight at you, lips now no longer curled upwards his usual smile.
you let go of him, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips when you do so. he stumbles slightly and ends up leaning against the table while he fixes his clothes back to their tameable appearance.
he breathes out while doing so, "for the record, i'm not in on this." there's a harsh pull on his collar, he unbuttons it and you get a glimpse of his tattooed skin beneath. "i didn't even know about this until an hour ago—we're on the same boat here."
your eyebrows furrow when you hear him reply. a baffled scoff escapes through the gap of your lips and it's evident that you don't believe him—all of this is a coincidence and he didn't have one say about it? yeah, real nice.
your eyes are still on him while he pats down the wrinkled parts of his button-up shirt, easing out the collar part where you lifted him up earlier. the silence is gnawing against your skin and the feeling is strange—you’re alone with him again for the first time in, what, years?
how long has it been since you and nagumo called it off? two? three? you can’t pinpoint an exact amount of time because you’ve already put all of that behind you. everything, from start to finish, you told yourself that you’ve brainwashed yourself off that bitter memory. but now, everything comes crashing down because there’s nothing distracting you from the fact that he’s right there in front of you.
and the upcoming assignment you have with him doesn’t make your situation any better.
back to zero.
you let out a defeated sigh before walking over to take a seat on one of the chairs that’s a tad bit farther from where he stood leaning against the table. you wave off your hand, eyes closed with disinterest, “so, how will this go?”
nagumo slides over a process folder to your direction, you open it after a while while he talks and you’re half-listening. “it’s a high-profile celebration, the one who put up the request sent one entrance stub.” he starts and your hands trace the intricate design on the entrance stub and onto the lifted font—bring your plus one.
now, you get the story.
you internally curse before tossing the folder back onto the table and off of your hold. you swipe your hair back as you lean against the chair, sighing exasperatedly before huffing out, “give me a few hours to get ready and everything.” you try to compromise and fortunately he gives you that.
you stand up, getting ready to leave. “you can get the materials from the basement.” he advises but you wave him off with a, “i have my own.”
you leave the headquarters to retire back to your apartment where you finally had the opportunity to crash out.
stepping foot inside your tiled apartment, you shut the door close behind you and you melt against the cool metal, there’s a thud when you finally fall onto the equally cold tiles. you stare out front where your window is slightly agape and the overview is the entirety of the city, you feel everything crashing down at once.
you let out a sigh before bundling your hair into one messy ball where you pulled and nipped your nails against. you feel the hard scratch against your scalp and that’s where you know everything is happening and none of it is a dream—you are inevitably subjected to a joint hit where you need to act like a couple with your ex.
you let go, breathe in deeply before finally standing back up.
on the way back to your room, you pass by a translucent sliding door and you see your reflection on it. it’s blurry but it’s there: the tears that threatened to leave right in the corners of your eyes are evident with the way that your eyes sting just a tad bit.
you roll your eyes before fogging up the screen with a messy wipe, “stop crying.” you tell yourself, discarding all sob stories behind to finally man up and act professional.
you spin your phone in your hands, leaning against a post while you wait for your partner. your clothes lacked necessary cover making you feel almost everything around you including the coldness of the city’s winter.
just around the block is the convention center—a hotel—where the party is going to be held. limos after limos pass by and you can’t help but feel seen from where you stood. you sigh, shoulder slumping and your patience thinning, you begin typing in a number on your phone and fortunately, it hasn’t been changed.
“where are you?” you complain almost immediately as soon as the line got connected, “i’ve been waiting here for ages.”
he laughs from the other side of the call and your blood boils the moment he does, “hey i asked you.” you bite deeper, eyebrows furrowing while you stomp your feet, heels clacking just a tad bit and your hand tightens on your hips.
“sorry if i kept you waiting.” he finally spoke, but it’s not faint with static like the ones you usually hear in phone calls. no, his voice sounded with more clarity and with every passing word he says, his volume gets louder.
you shut your eyes close before sighing, hanging up on the phone before looking to the side only to see him clad in formal attire and his phone by his ear. nagumo in the flesh, a lopsided grin settled on his lips.
“shall we?” he reaches out his arm for you to intertwine with but you hesitate, your lips mumble words of annoyance before you finally give in to seem professional.
beside you, nagumo is satisfied. a huff exits his lips as his arms tighten just a bit around yours and you’re all too aware of how the fabric of his blazer brushes against your naked, sleeveless arms. or how his broad back is highlighted with the delicate accuracy of his posture—truly, if called for it, he can be quite sophisticated.
the convention center of skyline central had this intricate interior all in the rich hue of gold and bronze. everything, from one corner to the next, complimented each other perfectly and by just standing in the foot of the entrance where you can overlook the entirety of the convention, you’d know this celebration is nothing short of influence and regard.
you feel intimidated all of the sudden, your red-bottomed heels click and clank with every step that you take and when you reach the usher in charge. “madam, sir,” she bows, “your ticket, please.”
nagumo looks at her for a tad bit before nodding his head, “oh, right. my love, please.” he turns to look at you and you’re left stunned with the unfamiliarity of his voice calling out to you by an intimate endearment that you’re oh so used to before.
the usher looks at you, eyebrows raised and just then do you realize that nagumo entrusted you with the ticket and that he’s pertaining to you when he called out my love.
you scramble in your place, opening your purse before handing out the ticket to the usher. she smiles, bowing for the last time before she guides you to an attendant who gives you and nagumo a shot of champagne as a welcome beverage.
you two traverse the wide area occupied by nothing but arrogant businessmen, prominent executives, and high-value stakeholders. the smell of affluence trespasses your senses and your head begins to feel lighter. everywhere your eyes landed radiated grandeur, so all of the sudden you felt small.
you bite down your shame, slowly sinking into a puddle of nothingness. you don’t even notice how your hold against nagumo tightens. he looks down on you to check what’s wrong and he sees your head hanging low and your posture slump with discomfort.
nagumo puts the pieces together and nudges you, “we’re on a job, [name].” he whispers so only you and him can hear. his voice is low and you can hear it reverberating in your eardrums as it’s the only thing that you can hear clearly in this packed and loud space for celebrations.
you get picked up from your trance and you swerve back to reality. you look up at nagumo who is looking back at you with a faint smile playing on his pink-stained lips. you notice his hair is slightly disheveled from traversing in the tightly packed entrance and so you reach up, adjusting his hair back to neatness.
he is taken a tab bit aback from your gesture but nonetheless he let out a chuckle. “thank you.”
you shake your head after retracting your hand, realizing what you’re doing is no longer part of the job if not performing in front of these people. you clear your throat, cheeks red with embarrassment because you made him laugh.
and just when the air between you two is getting thicker with tension, someone approaches. his leather black shoes clanking against the gold-tinted tiles, a glass of white wine in between his fingers, and a signature smirk spread across his lips.
“you must be mr. takahashi.” he raises the half-empty glass of white wine, greeting you both with an alias that the client told you to use. “and beside you—” he gives you a softer smile, “—most esteemed lady, mrs. takahashi.”
you swallow a lump before regaining back your composure and you envelope yourself back into the cloak of your disguise as mr. takahashi’s wife.
you nod your head down, “your celebration, as always, is unparalleled." you reach out your free hand for him, the next thing you feel are his cracked lips against the dainty skin of your knuckles.
you physically cringe at the feeling—your hands shiver a bit and your expression ghost one of disgust. nagumo, beside you, notices it all. he snickers silently before returning back to his serious façade when the host, mr. jinno, stands straight back up.
you retract your hand back to yourself when his grip loosens, a strained smile hanging onto your red-streaked lips. you look up back to nagumo when they begin conversing and you’re quite impressed with the way that nagumo is incredibly well-versed with whatever topic they had—considering that it’s nowhere near related to being a hitman.
you’ve grown bored with listening in and having no opening to interfere or insert yourself because you have zero idea on what to say. you scrunch your nose, the wafting the smell of desserts in the nearby pastry bar. you try, very hard, to resist temptations but it’s all wasted efforts when you eye catches on attendant roaming around with the tray of meticulously crafted delicacies.
your shoulders visibly slump, you swallow before looking upwards to nagumo, puppy eyes staring up. the man sweatdrops, “yes?”
finally, his attention is on you. you point towards the pastry bar, “do you, two gentlemen, mind that i go tend to my cravings?” a sultry smile plays along the edges on your lips and you have charmed the two men with your appeal.
mr. jinno speaks first, “help yourself, madam. those are, after all, for guests.” he gestures towards the section and you nod, now awaiting nagumo’s permission. he merely sighs, “do not stray too far, my love.”
for a second, your heart skips with the way he reminds you. but you remember the performance you two are upholding until the end of the assignment, so instead of slapping yourself back to reality where you and nagumo are no longer together and that it’s all an act, you give him an equally loving smile.
“i will always come back to you, my love. you know that.”
you don’t spare him a second for a reaction, you turn your back almost immediately, hoping that he doesn’t catch the way your ears are the same color with the strawberry decorated atop of one pie, or how your cheeks look like it’s been dusted with the entirety of a blush bottle.
nagumo freezes from where he stood, his eyes now out of mr. jinno’s view as he looks further to the direction where you ran off. he doesn’t hear how the distinguished gentleman beside him has begun rambling back on the topic, his attention now divided after you’ve left him questioning with your choice of words.
“right, mr. takahashi?”
just then is he pulled out of his trance. he turns back to look at mr. jinno. “yes.”
occupied with the desserts in front, you’ve long forgotten what words you said to nagumo before running off on your own. as far as you’re concerned, you can’t be bothered to remember them when these delectables are staring right in front of you.
but your sweet treat time is forced to come to a halt when a gentleman—looking far too flirty for his good—starts to approach you.
“what a fair evening, would you agree?” the first thing that you notice is his vocabulary. do all rich folks speak like this?
nonetheless, you cannot be seen talking to someone whose smile lazily sits on their red-glossed lips and eyes half-lidded with body language clearly stating that they’re looking for company. no, you cannot, because that would jeopardize the whole assignment.
you meekly nod, taking the plate of boston cream goodness up your chest before excusing yourself which leaves him no choice but to question what went wrong for you to just walk away with nothing but a tilt of your head.
you immediately find your way back to nagumo’s side, where he and and mr. jinno are talking about whatever rich, out of touch gents talk about.
he notices, “you’re back early—thought you’d be far more invested in them that it would take you more than just five minutes, my love.” he speaks again, addressing you with an endearment that makes your skin crawl.
you swallow the melting cake on your tongue, “i didn’t want anyone mistaking that i didn’t have company.” you merely say, a knowing smile on your lips. “and i’m most especially sure, you, also wouldn’t want that.”
nagumo hums, lips agape while his head nods slowly. mr. jinno peers from the side, “is something the matter?”
“noth—”
“we were just talking about how dreadful it must feel when your partner is enjoying the company of another, mr. jinno.” you cut him off, an even bigger smile playing on your lips as you do so. “would you feel bad about that, mister?” your lips protruded outwards in a pout as you ask him.
mr. jinno thinks for a while, “well, i don’t see why not.” he shrugs but he doesn’t get the gist of it. after all, mr. jinno, is a lonely man.
but beside you, nagumo is beyond furious. you’ve, yet again, ticked a nerve in him. your choice of words? that sly way of talking to mr. jinno with a topic so sensitive? you knew what you were doing—pissing him off, that is.
he licks his lips wet before turning to the side to face mr. jinno. he wraps a hand around your hips before tilting his head to the side, “can we, me and my lovely wife right here, take a break, mr. jinno? i’m afraid she’s had exceeded her sugar intake for the day and sooner or later she’ll get a stomachache.”
your eyebrows furrow to his words, but the moment you try to argue, his hold against the plush flesh of your waist tightens. his nails dig a bit through the fabric, and you can feel the callouses on his palm from the excessive use of his weapon.
mr. jinno nods hastily, “why of course! i will ask an assistant to show you to your rooms. it’s just outside this convention, the hotel is pretty empty.”
nagumo thanks mr. jinno for his hospitability before you two walk off with an usher.
he walked just a tad bit away from the two of you, keys jangling in his fingers while you and nagumo maintained a distance from him.
you whisper lowly, “the fuck was that for?” you call out, “you call that being professional?”
nagumo doesn’t say a word, instead, he just swerves you even closer to his side until it feels suffocatingly close that you must be molding into each other.
the assistant puts the key card against the door and it opens. he ushers you both in and gives you the card. he leaves you both alone and the slow creaking sound of the no-slam door is horrifying because when it does shut close, it’s loud. you hear it reverberating through the marbled walls of this five-star hotel.
standing in the middle of this king-size room, you can’t help but feel all too aware of the big space that surrounds you. and also to the fact nagumo is here too, alone, with you.
you lick your lips before the sound of your heels echo across the room. the back of your knees meet the edge of the bed and you fall against it. the mattress is soft beneath you and once you’ve scanned the entirety of the room, it feels luxurious.
but that’s all there is to it. it still doesn’t make up for the fact that nagumo has disrupted the flow of the assignment.
“nagumo,” you call sternly, “what’s up with you? we have a job.” you say, a frown present on your moonlit-casted face. the sliding glass door is open—no curtain present to hide you both from the lit-up city overview from the hotel room balcony.
nagumo looks out, hands in his pocket before turning around. “sorry.” he apologizes out of the blue and it makes your chest tighten because you know what he’s saying sorry for—and you haven’t, even after three years, forgiven him yet.
“but you can’t go pressing my nerves when we’re out there, [name].” he takes a step towards you until he’s standing there, right beside your knees and he’s got you encased in between his.
the fabric of his pants rub against the side of your knees and it feels rough, unlike the smooth material it’s supposed to have. all you feel is rigidness—he stares down on you, and the his fingers are hesitantly waiting.
“you know we never really talked about that.” he starts, his hand finally stops fiddling and reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear.
you lean away, rolling your eyes before crossing your legs in hopes that you stop feeling whatever roughness it is on his pant leg. “it’s unnecessary.”
nagumo sighs before his hands drop to his side. for a second, you thought he had given up trying to get clarity but his opposite hand inches closer, this time he puts it against your cheek, forcing you to look at him. “you know it never happened.”
his words push against you and you don’t like it. you give him a glare, “it did and you can never undo it by charming me with whatever habit we used to have.”
nagumo chuckles out loud with that, “habit? sex on the job, you mean? we used to have fun, [name]—”
“yeah, until you decided it’s cool to run off and enjoy a client’s company. not to mention,” you breathe out, fuming with anger as it all comes cascading down again. “—not to mention, you didn’t tell me that you accepted the order’s membership.”
as if that was the biggest betrayal of them all, it comes out choked. and nagumo’s thumb begins consoling you with soothing rubs. you pursed your lips together until nagumo feels a wet drop against his hand—he realizes you’re crying.
you take a deep breath before leaning back, making nagumo freeze on the spot. but nagumo is everything but inconsistent—the moment you had leaned just a tad bit away, he crawls in, and the more that you sought distance, the more he inched in. all until your back hits the softness of the mattress.
he’s there, right on top of you. your hair is sprawled in all directions and the only boundary that you have between you two are your clothes.
“please, let me make it up to you.” he begs. “and please listen.”
one thing you know about nagumo is that he’s shameless. even until now, when your tear-stained eyes are staring back at him does he have not even an inch of shame left in his hollow heart.
you know what is about to happen and you’re letting it unfold. all because you’re desperate to hear the two-word statement exit his lips. all because you want to know what came through him that day to leave you hanging with a troubled mind and a doubting heart.
he snakes around to hold you against your nape and you crane your head up higher to let him—your body automatically obliging to whatever means he needs just to hold you in his arms. but not once, not while he’s touching you in a way that you told yourself to never let him do so again, did you ever look at him.
he leans down, his weight weighing down on you like pressure, and unlike before, it has become uncomfortable. there’s a whine that leaves your lips when it’s combined with a soft touch of his lips on your neck—it’s spicy and minty in a way that it burns when he does so.
he hears soft sounds of protests leaving your lips, “are you okay?”
but you don’t reply, instead you open your lips to speak. “do you still do this?” while your eyes stay situated on the wilting flower encased in a beautiful vase.
“do what?” he asks, tongue swirling on a certain spot making you squirm in both discomfort and desperation. he teases further, he lolls out the last word as he finally sucks in your skin.
a choked whimper leaves your lips as you shut your eyes closed, “this—sex on the job, asshole.” you curse out when his hands finally begin to explore, starting from your exposed thigh wherein your dress has ridden up. his hands feel calloused, fingers rough yet they are big, he pinches parts of your fleshy skin and it stings when he does so.
nagumo laughs at your question, “not on the job.” he shrugs before moving on to trail down even further from your neck to your clavicles. he sucks in the bone, leaving faint purple stain on them. the entirety of your neck now covered in reddish, bloodshot circles.
his answer makes you laugh sarcastically. he hears it and when you turn your body away from him, he realizes that you didn’t like his answer. “you must’ve done it too—it’s been so long.” he counters, nodding his head towards you before maneuvering your body back to face him, and when he does, you finally look at him.
his hands settle on the curve of your waist, he presses and you squirm. “yeah. news flash, i did it with shishiba.”
your cocky answer does not excite nagumo at all. his usually bright expression now clouded with disinterest—as if he didn’t want, or need, to hear that at all.
there’s a smirk on your lips when you see how his expression shifted to one of disamusement. but it soon fades away when one of his hands goes behind you and he catches the zipper of your dress.
you let out a gasp when he pulls it down with ease, your bare back touching the cold sheets beneath you. your sleeves hand loosely on your shoulders and you can’t help but use one hand to keep them on, but nagumo gently tears your arm away letting the dress finally slip off your torso, leaving you bare with only one more piece of fabric acting as cover.
your cheeks flare red with blush, embarrassed that you let nagumo see you this way again. you look away, both of your hands coming up to push against his chest as an attempt to hide yourself away.
at the end of the day, you’re still engraved around nagumo’s fingers—every light touch that he does against the dainty skin of your stomach gets you riled up. you shut your eyes close, in hopes to ease the intense sensitivity you feel from being touched.
but when nagumo sees no form of protest from you, he takes it as an invitation. more so when your body begins leaning towards him, as if you’re begging to be touched more.
“let me do this, [name].” sweat begins to build up on your forehead despite the blaring air conditioning and he swipes away the hair that stuck to you before leaning down to press a kiss. if you weren’t all too aware of his modus operandi, you wouldn’t know that that kiss was a question—can i do this?
he confirms with the way that your head tilts down just a tad bit, as if to mimic a nod. it’s subtle, but it’s there, and nagumo wouldn’t miss such a gesture.
perhaps it’s wishful thinking to expect an explanation after this—nagumo, after all, doesn’t like talking too much in the middle of sex. you know that because you’ve been with him for years. years of partnership and it only came to an end because of some bullshit reason.
you never tried to unravel the real reason, not when it happened all so quickly and the only response your body was able to make was to shut it all down. you refused to speak to him, even when the situation calls for it, you find all sorts of reason not to fraternize with him again.
i think it’s safe to say, you hated his guts these three years of being broken up.
but now, you’re so vulnerable, so sensitive and so open beneath him. your eyes are tear-stained and your lonely lips are red with the lipstick of your make-up.
nagumo’s hands roam every inch of your body—covered or uncovered. you feel his fingers do wonders, lingering touches here and there, leaving you desperate for something more consistent.
your hand catches his, he’s stunned with the suddenness of your actions. but nonetheless, he obliges. when you lace your fingers around his, it feels familiar. the way his dainty, scarred fingers fit perfectly in between your own is evidence of the long relationship you two shared.
the keyword is shared.
“listen to me, [name].” he finally whispers, and when he calls you by your name, it sounds unreal. because, the old nagumo you knew would never call you by your given name.
it’s always my love.
perhaps, the assignment had given you a piece of what you’ve missed and you liked that feeling. and to know that he’s eager enough to disrupt the flow of the assignment, it makes you wonder if he’s missing those years too.
his lips ghost over your neck before coming down, tongue tracing down leaving a trail of saliva. he reaches the mounds of your breasts, you bite down a sound when his canine teeth dig down onto your flesh. it’s sickly, but it’s good—that, you can’t deny.
you lick your lips, in an attempt to ease the strange feeling of yearning for something more. but it doesn’t quite to the job because your hips starts swaying upwards, hitting nagumo’s pelvis.
he’s hard, you feel it in the way you’re trying to ease the ache in between your legs. he notices your desperate, slow upward thrusts, and he feels you against his erection. one hand makes its way to your hips, pushing it back down.
“calm down, [name]—”
“please.”
you don’t know what’s come over you but you’re saying these words. your eyes are half-lidded as you squirm beneath him. “please, yoichi—” you choke out, “tell me… what went wrong?”
you’ve been godforsaken. if not against the mattress, you’d be on your knees, begging that he say the reason.
his touch must have magic for you to abandon every speck of pride you have in you because you’re crying below him, pleading that he tell you something to ease the three-year long doubt in your heart.
nagumo jerks, retracting his lips from your tit to assess your expression—you’re crying again. he sighs, carding his hand through your hair and he cooes at you. good thing you’re not in the correct headspace anymore to take it as an offense.
he watches as you lick your lips and he can’t hold back anymore. he leans down, catches your wet lips in his and it’s almost like a puzzle piece for how perfect your lips are slotted against each other. you shut your eyes closed, letting the feeling sink back into you. and like a system, you feel rebooted—something in you has restarted and you’re back to square one.
a moan leaves your lips when nagumo’s tongue enters your mouth. he wastes no time in seeking yours and in a second, you’re both dancing. your tongues are perfectly tangled in each other and you think that if this happened even a day later, you would have forgotten how sweet nagumo tastes—almost like a sweet white wine.
your arms make their way around his torso, you pull him even closer to you. his chest crushing your own and his entire weight against you. he encircles you around his hold as well, he pulls you up to sit and all while you’re both in the middle of making out does he push the lock of your bra open.
the relief makes your lips open in surprise, you let out a soft moan and nagumo finally releases you from the kiss. your bra falls onto the bed and you’re not completely bare in front of him if not for the dress that bundled on your waist.
his eyes wander along your perfectly round tits, his cheeks are red and it’s obvious. you can’t help but chuckle, “you miss this?” a wave of confidence rushes over you and if it weren’t for the tears that ghosted in the corner of your eyes, nagumo would’ve thought you’re a different person.
because, in nagumo’s perfect memory, you are obedient. you’re his doll—submissive under him, never complaining, a princess in his eyes.
nagumo’s jaw clench and a smile is plastered on his lips when he hears you ask. he raises one eyebrows before catching your wrist in his hands, pulling you close to him until you’re seated on his lap. there’s perfect elevation, because now, your tits are right in front of his face.
he wastes no second in diving in, taking your perked up nipples in his mouth. his tongue swirls in perfect accordance to what your body deems most satisfactory. your head leans back, eyes rolling to the back of your head and your torso jerks a bit from the sudden wave of pleasure that washes over you.
nagumo’s mouth and hand are perfectly working their magic against your boobs. and your body reacts to it the way nagumo wants you to, because he’s always in a forever journey to make you feel good—that hasn’t changed.
your hands settle on his shoulder blades, “yo—ah—ichi!” you moan out, gripping against him as you try your best to keep the sounds to yourself.
he retracts after hearing you call out his name, he looks up at you and he notices the swell of your lips—his work. a smug smile rests on his lips again before pushing you onto your back again, you recoil against the plush sheets.
“i was immature back then,” he starts while he pulls the dress off of you and he throws it somewhere on the floor, “i didn’t know what to do—” he caresses your thighs, hands pinching the flesh and your legs jerk a bit from the pleasure that you’re anticipating.
“—i got a request from the board. the order.” the sighs, loosening his tie before tossing his blazer on the floor, leaving him in his tight white polo and a loose tie. “i guess i misinterpreted it as a decision to choose between you or the order.”
before you could even ask what he means by that, he begins pressing kisses on your inner thigh, all while his hands brush over the naked skin of your legs and stomach. you shut your eyes close, lips sealed tight and your question running away to the back of your head.
“i was uncommitted.” and a kiss right beneath your soaking pussy.
you gasp out when you feel his breath fan against the fabric of your panties. you turn your head to the side, pressing your lips against the pillow while your hands clench around the thick mattress.
it’s involuntary but your hips begins jerking upwards again, your soaked panties now right in front of him. he peers towards you and he sees you relentlessly holding back your sounds. he closes his eyes before finally pressing a kiss onto your wet pussy.
“ngh—” leaves your lips when he does so, but it’s unsatisfactory—there is, after all, a piece of fabric covering you. you wiggle your hips to indirectly tell him to take them off. “please.”
he takes your panties off and leaves it hanging midway around your thighs. it’s erotic—the sight of it all. you, completely naked, on the bed, with your ex-lover above you, ready to give you the best oral you’ve ever had.
before he dives into your heat, he speaks again. “i didn’t see you as something i was ready to commit too back then.” as if that wouldn’t leave a scar on you, he says it so casually before his lips press against your folds.
his words engrave themselves inside of you, digging an even hollow, and deeper hole of doubt.
your back arches when his tongue intrudes—he swirls inside and out, sucking in both the flesh of your pussy and your leaking juices. it feels amazing, you think, if not for his words it would’ve felt extraordinary.
you can’t bring yourself to moan out his name, not when his words trouble your entire mind. the most you can do is simply moan lewdly. your eyebrows are droopy and your mouth is agape, knuckles white from gripping the sheets too tight and your thighs are trembling.
but nagumo is not close to stopping, he feels your body is rigid from overstimulation but he refuses to stop—not before you’ve come down on him.
he nips, he bites, he sucks, he kisses. he does everything and you feel it all, it’s too much because when you feel the knot getting tighter inside of you, it’s no warning. white goodness comes spilling out of you and directly onto nagumo’s mouth, you don’t expect that you’d be cumming this fast, nor this much.
nagumo leans back, face messy with your cum everywhere. you look down on him, chest heaving with your breathing and your forehead wet with sweat.
you watch as his throat bops down and he has swallowed every speck of your cum. your body trembles with the view, and you physically feel your pussy pulsate when you realize that he has swallowed it. your eyes are half-lidded, legs trembling, and back aching from arching it all the way.
he licks his lips clean of any white goodness before speaking again. “but i have changed with time now, [name].” this time, his voice is low and convincing.
the next thing you hear echoing through the thick walls of the suite is the sound of his belt unbuckling, the metallic click echoes in your ears, making the entire thing seem as though you’re about to unravel a wrapped gift open.
your shoulders wiggle as you try to move back onto the bed’s head rest but nagumo’s hand catches your ankles and he pulls you back in.
“sit on my lap, my love.” his voice is sultry when he asks you, eyebrows droopy and his lips are protruded outwards in a lousy pout. and you’re about to play right into the palm of his hands—your cunt beats and you’re nowhere near resisting him, so you do end up settled on his lap when his pants are off.
your bare thighs come in contact with his own and it feels conflicting—one second you’re about to hop off in denial and the next you’re overtaken with the desire to become one with him. his big hands caress your skin and it feels like you’re about to melt, there is obvious expertise in the way he does so—as if he’s got you all memorized that he knows that this one gesture is what keeps you going.
he talks again, maintaining eye-contact while one of his hands cup your soaking cunt. “i regret everything, [name].” with every word, he slaps your pussy. there is a lewd, perverted sound of squelching when he does so. there’s a smirk on his face when he notices the way you jolt every time his fingers smack against your slopping, dripping wetness.
“everything—” he inserts a finger inside of you, exploring your insides with just the length of his index finger—not even considered fingering, he’s merely preparing you, foreplay. “—including the nights i spent with another.” he chokes out, as if it disgusts him.
he retracts his fingers before looking up at you, “you have my word—nothing happened.” he stares up at you, his posture slump while his hands run down your spine. “i couldn’t let anything happen. you haunt my mind even when i’m with someone else.”
the memory rushes back to trouble you again—nagumo barely comes home to you to spend a night with the company of another woman.
you bite down your lips and you feel pathetic, you’re actually giving him a chance?
“i regret doing it.” he presses his lips against your cheek, trails down to the corner of your lips. “let me make it up to you.”
perhaps it’s the way that you’ve missed him so deeply even after being broken up for three years already that you’re so prone to giving second chances now. but his kisses tell you so: he’s sincere, and honesty creeps in with every kiss he gives you.
he captures your lips in his and that did it for you, you begin to grind against his erection and he does the same, moving his hips against yours in a matched rhythm.
he chuckles lowly when he realizes, “i see you haven’t changed, my love.” there is it again, that damned endearment. “you’re still so… sensitive against me.” he retracts from your lips and he stares in awe at how you’re actively grinding against him with your eyes closed.
its like second-nature by now—the way you know how to make him and yourself feel good all at the same time, because as you’re grinding on him, nagumo’s lips are in between his teeth, trying his best to keep the sounds to himself. his eyes are shut close and when you put your hand on his shoulders, only then does he open them.
he places both of his hands around your waist, nodding off to you a bit. “hop off.” he tells you but your hips aren’t stopping. nagumo chuckles before gripping tightly against you, “hop off, my love—you’re gonna make me cum with just doing this—ngh—” his hips stutter and without any warning, the tip of his dick is covered in white, sticky cum.
nagumo sighs, leaning back before giving himself a few pumps to ease out the stimulation. he stares back at you with lust-shot eyes, “look at what you did.”
he hops off the bed, goes around to the edge of the mattress before pulling you towards him. with your back against the plush pillows, nagumo inserts two fingers inside of you and the intrusion surprises you. your eyes grow big before both of your hands come to cover your mouth, muffled moans exiting lowly against them.
his speed does not falter, he props one hand next to your head and he leans down to bring your tit in his mouth. that got you spiraling, your trembling and your strength leaves your body—hands loosely flinging back to the side of your head where they gripped on the sheets.
“fuck—yoichi—ah!” you moan out. finally, he thinks, you’ve started yelling out his name again. you shut your eyes close before taking his head in your hands and pulling him in to give him a kiss, he obliges almost immediately, lips moulding into you like he’s some sort of key to your lock.
he retracts his fingers out of your pussy, and the next thing you feel is anything but empty. because you’re now so full of him, his dick fits perfectly inside of you. he’s big, and you can feel the veins against your walls and his tip hits your peak like it’s nothing—like he’s made for it, he’s made for you.
there’s a lewd expression on your face, tongue out and lips swollen when nagumo leans away and his speed picks up. your tits bounce and your torso is rigid when the knot begins to form.
nagumo knows you best—he has your body committed to his memory, and god has forsaken him when you two weren’t together because there was no way he could enjoy sex with any other woman without the vision of your body making its way to haunt his mind.
“i see you clearly now, my love.” his last few thrusts are hard, and you cry out a moan of his name when you reach your high. “let me have you again, please.” he’s desperate, and you know that because when his cum spills right inside of you, tears leave his eyes too.
synopsis : as children, it was easy to promise forever. hoshina and you swore you’d marry each other one day, promises made beneath the summer sky. convinced he has long forgotten, she buries her feelings — until sips of alcohol slips out her sober thoughts.
content: yearning, a bit of angst, plot heavy
word count: 6.7k
note: not proof read & this is an unfamiliar style for me, i wanted to explore lmao
the air is crisp and your ears are filled with the cacophony of children’s laughter. one corner of the estate had adults talking and catching up with one another while the other had three small children beaming to each other while their hands dirty with mud that they’ve decided to play with.
soshiro was in front of you, “[name]—! don’t do that!” he yelled out but really it was quiet.
only you and soichiro could hear his desperate protests that you stop throwing mud to him, his hands up in the air while he’s actively dodging the sloppy dirt you’re throwing at him.
he’s questioning whether whatever you’re doing is playing or you’re really just bullying him.
there’s a frown on his face and when you notice that the smile he wore just a while ago has disappeared, you decided to listen. putting your mud-stained hand down, and letting the clump of dirt fall onto the ground.
soshiro sighs, patting his clothes off but the stain doesn’t leave. he gives a glare to soichiro who has been snickering from a distance.
“this is your fault.” he complains, “you’re giving [name] weird ideas you know she will do.” his frown now turning into a pout.
soichiro merely shrugs at this, a smug smile on the older boy’s face.
a gasp.
you hear a shriek coming from the right side of the estate where the adults have been tending to their own businesses. you immediately shoot your heads towards where the sound came from and you see mrs. hoshina sprinting to your direction.
you cower, bracing for impact, assuming that you’re in trouble for playing with dirt. but the air hugs you instead.
you open your tightly shut eyes and see soshiro in his mother’s arms. one of her hands is caressing soshiro’s hair while the other wipes away the stain of the mud you’ve thrown to soshiro.
you feel sudden guilt wash over you, seeing as how soshiro is covered in filthy mud all because you thought it was a good idea — soichiro’s the one to blame though, he’s the one who influenced you.
but you don’t hear his mother reprimanding you. she’s solely focused on cleaning off the mess you made on soshiro’s clothes. you wonder if she hasn’t noticed or if she’s just really that kind.
you’ve known the hoshina family for a long time now—family friends is how you see it. but to the adults, they’re merely acquaintances. mere business partners in the force. so having both of your parents as partners also means seeing their children whenever you tag along on these meetings.
“what did you do, soshiro?” she asks while desperately cleaning off his clothes that he was supposed to wear for the entire day.
but soshiro’s an honest kid. he points his finger to you. and your eyes widen — are you about to be berated right now?
your eyes avert from soshiro to his mother. those unkind eyes that contradict the gentle hands that settle on her son’s back. she bore a callous demeanor when she catches your eyes in her gaze and you feel the coldness to it. the chill runs down your spine and you’re certain of it. even as a young child, you notice it: mrs. hoshina isn’t very fond of you.
you feel the urge to apologize immediately. “i’m sorry.” your head dips down into an apologetic bow. your lips are trembling, and your hands are shaking with shame.
you’ve known soshiro for a long time now, these mere playful stunts should be normal by now. it’s just this one instance that didn't go unnoticed by his mother. and you’re in a bad position.
she scoffs, “what went into that head of yours to play with dirty mud?” and she finally criticizes. they go right through your head, her words. even though they lacked biting comments, the harsh tone was still there. that judging, and hostile tone that slices right through you.
you’re overcome with shame when you realize that soshiro and soichiro are just staring at you. should you have been more mature? for a child’s play, was that truly unforgiving?
you hear cascading footsteps and your father rushes to you. he takes note of the sullen atmosphere and immediately realizes what is going on. the dirty clothes, your mud-stained hands that clutches against the hem of your skirt. it is a self-explanatory painting. he holds you by the head, pushes you down to apologize again.
“but i alre—”
“we are sorry, dear soshiro.” he smiles to soshiro while he merely looks back at him with a look so questioning.
he tilts his head to the side, a pout on his lips. “why are you sorry? we were just playing.” he asks the obvious and his mother gasps again.
a harsh pull to his nape and his clothes feel tighter—his mother has always been strict and somehow, he’s gotten used to her small gestures of lecture. “because it’s not kind to throw mud, soshiro!”
his pout exaggerates more and you can’t help but smile a bit when you stare at soshiro doubting his mother’s words. his back slumps and he scratches his head, messing his hair up and his mother breathes out another exhausted sigh.
“are you saying [name] is unkind?” he peers up to his mother and she’s lost for words. truly, that’s what she thinks but she can never say it outloud. not when you’re in front and your father — an important business partner — beside you.
but you notice the hesitation. the way her lips trembled a bit and her eyes twitched along with the way her hand stopped for a second. you look away, biting your lips down until you taste blood on the tip of your tongue.
“that’s not good mama.” soshiro tilts his head again, leaning away from his mother’s touch. “you can’t think that.”
for a split second, everything goes silent and soshiro’s words echo in your ears. you snap your head back to his direction, widened eyes beaming questioningly.
mrs. hoshina’s lips are agape before she hastily looks at you with a guilty smile. averting to shoot an apologetic laugh to your father who is all but aware of the whole picture. you avoid her gaze, opting to look back at soshiro who is already looking at you.
he smiles a bit, eyes crinkling close to an eye-smile. he points to you again. “i’m going to marry [name] when we’re older, mama.” once he’s said it, it’s set in stone. “so you can’t think that [name] is unkind.”
your eyes widen and your heart skips a beat. dumbfoundedly staring back at the deep violet hue of his eyes. the wind blows harshly and you feel like everything’s stopped because of the lack of reaction from the people around you. did you mishear it after all?
“i’ve decided i will make [name] my wife, mama!”
then it’s all but a fleeting moment. you stand there dumbfounded. you feel everything all at once—your father’s hand on your nape, the crisp wind blowing gently and soshiro’s enthusiasm. your eyes are wider than ever, and you feel strange on the inside. warmth spreads across your cheeks and you feel the blood rushing.
then the silence is interrupted when his mother laughs out loud and you hear the wincing disapproval behind her laugh. your father laughs alongside her to lighten up the tension that soshiro had created.
“don’t be foolish, soshiro.” his mother lightly called out. she rubbed across his cheeks while the little boy merely pouted.
“but i’m telling the truth.” he shook his head before looking back at you, regal purple eyes shaded with determination. “i’m promising to her now.” and there’s a whole-hearted smile settling over his features.
but to the adults, it’s nothing more than a child’s word that ought to be forgotten in a year or two.
but to you it’s nothing as light as that. you can’t possibly downplay what he just said when your cheeks are brighter than usual and your ears are obvious with the pink tint. you can’t look at soshiro in the eyes.
perhaps that is where it all began. maybe it all started when soshiro proposed that he marry you when you’re older in front of his mother, brother and in front of your father whom he’s never even had one conversation with yet.
now, a few years later, inside of a conference room in the 3rd division headquarters, you’re seated opposite to the man who promised to marry you when you’re “older”. but that promise seems to be all but kept now. because you’re both adults, in the right age, in the same line of profession but nothing has been done.
if anything, it’s the opposite. you can’t remember when’s the last time you had a proper conversation with soshiro that didn’t involve talking about work.
your eyes wander across the empty notepad that settled on the desk. your pen spinning on your fingers while your hair lazily falls when your head dips down from the last of attention you’re paying to whatever that speaker had to say about an incident that happened weeks ago.
you are a competent soldier. you’ve memorized the reports he’s overviewing right now. simply because you were one of the people who wrote it.
you breathe out a sigh before tilting your to the side to effortlessly move your hair out of the way and finally spare a glance towards the speaker. but your eyes don’t miss the way his figure sits with his arms crossed against his bulk chest. purple hair laying flat while his eyes are closed and focused to whatever’s being said right now.
among all the people inside this conference room, only you are all aware of him. you surprise yourself, the way you can focus on someone this attentively but not to the one who’s actually speaking.
the promise swings by the back of your head again and you’re distracted. you shut your eyes close before finally looking away before you catch yourself in that trance again. that trance where you’re left wondering what went wrong with the promise — how come, after all those years, why can’t he bat an eye to you anymore?
it was evident. the distance. gap was bound to form between you two when both of your parents broke off the partnership they had. the only form of bridge you had with soshiro had been burned down when you noticed that your family stopped visiting their estate.
how long has it been? did he forget about it after all? but how could he? when to you, the promise was the only thing that made you want to look forward to adulthood.
“ms. [name] can you provide the statistical interpretation? we need the most precise answer for this from you. surely you can, you after all, are this force’s most competent statistician.”
your eyes hover on the screen that showed graphs and numbers that you already went through a hundred times when you wrote the report. you lick your lips before smiling, rising from your seat to walk up front.
you raise your hand up to point to the graph, “the subject of interest showed regenerative properties, sir. and it maintained combat for approximately forty three minutes while sustaining artillery fire from the third division.” you start, eyes scanning the graph for a few seconds before switching to speak to the audience.
they nod and you feel your throat tighten. not because you fear speaking in front of all these high-ranking officials. but because you catch him. staring at you. and you know you shouldn’t think much about it because you’re simply explaining the data. it’s a given he’s paying attention to you. but there’s a smile on his lips.
“based on the collected data, sir—” your breath hitches evidently. the room falls silent when you try to regain back composure but the way their eyebrows raise immediately makes it hard.
your eyes avert from one corner to the other, lips twitching before it finally lands back on soshiro. he gives you a nod. one that surely tells you, keep going.
everything feels balanced now. you swallow a lump before looking away, clearing your throat to speak once more.
“its fortitude level exceeded standard honju properties by nearly 32%, making it one of the most durable kaiju encountered this year…” you end your report with reluctance and you hope the people don’t catch it.
the speaker nods his head before telling you you’re free to return to your seat. by the time you reached your seat, your body language is closed off. you know the eyes have already left you and nobody is paying attention to you anymore but there’s still this lingering feeling that you’re being watched.
you look up from your lap. as if by habitual instinct, your eyes search for him. and he’s there, on the other side of the room, listening to the speaker with a fair smile on his lips. you can’t help but stare again. the speaker’s words blur in your ears and all of the sudden everything feels like water and you’re floating on top of it.
but you’re caught. his head turns to the side, feeling eyes on him and he’s right. he catches your eyes for a split second before you realize and look away. he’s confused — were you staring at him?
you play it cool, licking your lips as you protrude your chin out to act as if the speaker’s words were the most interesting you’ve heard of.
and this time, he’s the one watching you. he stares, observing if you’d look again. eyes slightly open unlike the usual eye-closed smile, purple orbs watching every twitch of your lips and every blink of your eyes. but soshiro would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping that you’d look again.
but you don’t. you don’t spare a glance towards his direction anymore. not when you feel as though you’ve been caught. and as much as you try to ignore the way you feel like you’re being watched, you just can’t brush off the feeling.
you swallow a lump before clearing your throat. and this, unintentionally, catches everyone’s attention. the speaker stops talking and everyone looks at you. you lick your lips wet to speak, “oh uh — i’m sorry, please continue.” you nod down and he begins talking again.
you fear this — everyone’s eyes on you. your hands tremble in the slightest and your legs move on their own. you stand up subtly from where you sat, and stealthily move towards the door.
outside the conference room, the warm air hits you and you finally let out that one sigh you’ve been holding back.
“[name]-san?”
you hear someone call out your name and when you look behind, you see kafka by the corner. you turn around, facing him.
“kafka.” you bow your head a bit and he does the same. “did you need something?” you nod your head, encouraging him to speak.
he shakes his head. “uh, can i ask? is the meeting over? i really need to get to the vice-captain if he’s available.” he purses his lips tight, a bit embarrassed with the reason he’s telling you right now.
you stare back to the door and shake your head, “unfortunately, not yet.” kafka tilts his head at this, “unfortunately?”
you chuckle a bit when he catches your snide remark. “yes, unfortunately. the speaker is taking a lot of our time, you see.” you put a hand on your hips, shaking your head in disapproval.
kafka laughs at this, finding your rant a tad bit relatable to whenever he feels like going home when he’s stuck listening to after-incident debriefs.
you two chat for a while until someone else came into the picture.
the conference room door opens and kafka peers through your shoulder to check. “oh, vice-captain hoshina!” he yells out with a wave of his hand and when hoshina looks towards his direction, kafka bows down.
hoshina smiles at him before walking towards you two. his hands in his pockets, his steps are light and it’s obvious that he’s feeling laid-back.
kafka asks, “is the meeting over, sir?” hoshina shakes his head at this, standing at a distance from you and closer to kafka. “oh? so then why are you outside, sir?”
hoshina shrugs his shoulder, opting to answer in the vaguest of ways that makes kafka even more confused. he lets out a sigh before nudging his head towards your direction, “shouldn’t you be asking that to her as well?”
kafka’s lips are open when he realizes. “oh, i apologize! i’m sorry if i kept you occupied, [name]-san.” he immediately says, bowing down to emphasize his apology even more but you can only shake your head at this.
“don’t mind him.” you tell to kafka. “it’s okay. i told you anyways, i got bored listening to that speaker revisit my reports. you’re far more entertaining to listen to, kafka.” you shake your head while rolling your eyes, crossing both of your arms against your chest. you don’t notice but your body language begins to show — you start leaning away from hoshina when he pertains to you.
hoshina catches this though. the way you move a tad bit far back when he nudged towards your direction. or how you refused to acknowledge his presence with a mere salute or one glance spared to his direction.
soshiro looks back to kafka who had a sheepish smile etched across his face whilst looking at you. that, somehow, irked him in some way. he waved a hand in front of kafka, “you need something or what?”
kafka snaps out of his trance and jumps with a shy smile when asked about his reason. “uh…” he beats around the bush, “it’s — vice-captain hoshina! please monitor my progress!” he finally spits out but his words don’t make any sense to soshiro.
soshiro tilts his head to the side, a dumbfounded expression on his face. “huh?”
you roll your eyes before sighing, “he’s asking you to watch him train. constructive criticism.” you explain, tone condescending as if you’re undermining his comprehension.
soshiro side-eyes you. “i knew that.” he juts out his lower lip, not appreciating your condescending tone in the slightest.
you roll your eyes again, “yeah, right.” but that’s there is to it. there’s no sharp bite to your tone when you say it. the teasing is evident, and you hope that soshiro doesn’t misunderstand.
he catches up and a small smirk draws itself upon his features. leaning back a tad bit to get a good look upon the mocking expression that graces your beautiful face. that’s how soshiro sees it.
“still the oblivious one, huh.” you say before walking away, opting to return back to the conference room than to listen to the two bicker again considering their rather friendly relationship despite their work positions.
and kafka, on the other hand, witnesses everything. including how you two are subtly teasing each other even with the lack of words exchanged. with mere looks and body language, it’s obvious that you two understood each other.
he’s confused, naturally. unaware of your relationship with each other, kafka is quick to assume. “... sir? i didn’t know you and [name]-san were close.” he chuckles, innocence wrapping around it.
soshiro’s smile drops, his expression turning solemn. lips licks his lips before clearing his throat, an attempt to keep kafka out of his business. kafka catches on and immediately purses his lips into a thin line, nodding his head down a bit before whispering a soft apology.
soshiro sighs, shoulders dropping. “nevermind that. let’s go.” he begins walking, leaving kafka behind confused. “but sir what about the confe—”
“are you coming or not?”
“i am sir!”
the conference is finally done after 3 suffocating hours of doing nothing but scribbling on your notepad and letting the speaker’s words enter one ear and exit in the other.
when you step foot outside the conference room again, you pulled down your necktie, letting yourself heave out a tired sigh. you roll your neck back, hearing it pop and you groan out in satisfaction. you put your small notepad inside of your blazer’s pocket before pivoting to walk down the hallway where your office is located.
but you’re stopped by an incredibly irritating sight.
“care for a drink, [name]?” he asks, a teasing look on his face. “you look awfully tired, don’t let this opportunity slip by; my treat.” he adds, now fully convincing you to a drink.
you walk past him but he follows, “come on.” he begs this time. tone reaching a higher pitch, whining in your ears and you can’t help but snicker.
your steps come to a halt just beside your office door. you turn your head to the side, shooting the braided man a look — a side-eye along with a stupidly sheepish smile that says let’s do it.
“give me five minutes.” you push open your door and he merely gives you a lazy smile before leaning against the wall, waiting for you just by the hallway.
five minutes isn’t that short of a waiting time. because apparently for him, a lot can happen in a minute, let alone, five minutes. leaning against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest, having little to no care about whoever is passing by until this one person came by.
“soichiro?”
he hears his name gets called out by an incredibly familiar voice. his usually closed cat eyes are now open in surprise. he jumps in place, arms out wide, ready to tackle the man in front of him. but the other swiftly dodges with a quick swerve to the side and soichiro ends up hugging the air instead.
soichiro sighs, “ah, really, soshiro?” he shakes his head disapprovingly while his younger brother seethes. “not even a hug?”
soshiro rolls his eyes before leaning against the wall adjacent to your office door. “why are you here?” he immediately asks, demanding for an answer. “you didn’t even contact me or anything, what’s up with you and your surprise appearances?”
soichiro looks at him, his eyes closing once again before leaning back to where he was perched against a while ago. “i’m not here for you or any of that sort.” he corrects, crossing his arms again. but instead of hearing a response, silence engulfs the two of them and the only thing he got was a scoff from soshiro.
“oh, i see.” he says before pushing himself off of the wall to walk away.
but before he can walk away, soichiro calls out. “join us.” he invites making soshiro stop in his tracks. “[name] and i are going out for drinks. no occasion, just… drinks.”
soshiro considers for a second but nonetheless waves his hand off. “duty.” he makes up an excuse in which soichiro rolls his eyes at, “lame.”
just when soshiro is out of view, the door to your office opens. you stare at soichiro who is directly in front of you, lips pursed into a thin line as if wordlessly scolding him for something that he exactly knew he was doing.
soichiro surrenders, raises his hands up, “he rejected my offer anyways.”
you groan out before finally slamming the door to your office close. whispering a soft, “asshole.” before finally walking out the building with him.
the bar itself is quiet, the ambiance is warm and it’s very obviously an establishment for working adults in dire need of calm and serenity and not for teenagers looking for fun. there’s soft music floating through the space, if not the classical piano that was expertly played in the background. you two took a seat on the bar stools that lined up in front of the illuminated liquor display and the bartender.
your eyes settle on the collection of alcohol that is perched on the display, “yamazaki 18, please.” you smiled towards the bartender who obliged and prepared your drink immediately.
while the winemaster is busy preparing your drinks, you lean against the counter. chin against your propped up palm, “so…” you shrug, “care to tell me why you’re here?”
soichiro merely looks back at you, the same lazy smile etched on his face. “[name], you can’t hide forever.” he starts and it’s awfully thrilling. you’re curious as to what meaning his words hold.
you bite your lips down before shaking your head, “no idea what you’re talking about here, soichiro.” you shrug your shoulders, teasing your childhood friend with an innocent act. but deep inside, you knew all too well what he meant. the reminder settles inside you like a warning.
your drinks arrive and you finally take a sip. the harsh bitter bite to it reaching your throat deep and you hiss. “this sure hits the spot.”
soichiro puts his glass down. “i went home a few weeks ago. visited parents.” he starts, not even daring to look you in the eyes because he knows how much it will sting for you when he finally stops beating around the bush. he looks for the words; proper ones. the best ones to convey the awful news.
he doesn’t get them. and he can’t help but feel bad for telling you so directly. “he’s a subject for marriage, [name].”
as if time has stopped for you, everything falls silent and unmoving. your head hurts and you don’t know if it’s from downing two shots at once or the fact that you’ve finally heard the news. you pursed your lips into a thin line, head lowering down until your hair covers the entirety of your face from his view. but he doesn’t need to look at you to even know how you feel.
“you gotta tell her [name], he ain’t going anywhere if you tell him how you really feel.” soichiro’s words strike you like a piercing bullet. your eyes are shut close, listening to him as you slowly push deeper into your frustration. “you know he feels the same, [name].”
that’s it. you can’t help but not believe him and his words. it all comes down to soshiro feeling the same but really, you’ve never felt even one second of that feeling from him. you choose to believe that assuming he feels the same would be wishful thinking — that it’s all empty words and people are just whispering nonsense in your ears. all to make you say it out loud, all to make you feel vulnerable.
soichiro sighs, giving up with whatever motive he has by coaxing a confession out of you. he nods to the bartender, juts his finger towards your cup, a gesture to tell him that you’d fancy a refill.
it’s quiet now. the storm inside your head dies down when you finally down another shot of yamazaki 18. you finally face the world again, but when soichiro peeks to take a closer look at you, the redness in the corners of your eyes don’t go unnoticed.
he chooses not to push the topic about soshiro anymore but decides to ask about whatever love life you have anyways. “so, marriage? any plans?”
you buffer for a second, processing whatever he means by his question. you look at him, dead in the eyes. “are you seriously asking me that?”
soichiro shrugs, tilting his glass towards your direction. a scoff leaves your lips when you realize he’s seriously asking you about it. a smile makes its way to your lips, biting back a laugh when you try to think of an answer but only a certain memory comes into mind.
soichiro chuckles, catching the hesitation in you when you stop yourself from answering too quickly. “come on, i know you.” he teases, shoulder nudging yours.
you roll your eyes, “then why ask when you know already.” you deadpan before the both of you burst out laughing, the sound of you two giggling echoing in the rather empty and silent bar.
you physically cringe when you realize the volume of your shenanigans. “sorry.” you apologize to the bartender who merely shrugs it off.
a sigh escapes from your pursed lips. “i can’t keep holding onto that, soichiro.” the humor dies down, and solemnity makes its return with your words. “you know that. for all i know, he probably have forgotten all about it now.”
soichiro looks at you, eyes a tad bit open to observe you. he’s conflicted, but he comes to a compensating conclusion. he innerly apologizes to his brother, wincing for what he’s about to do.
“[name], he hasn’t.” he’s a snitch. and if soshiro were to know, who knows what will happen to their godforsaken, almost no-contact brotherhood? nonetheless, soichiro views you as an important person in his life who still deserves the truth.
you down another shot, “how are you so sure about that? you two barely even talk.” you shoot.
“because he’s my brother. i should know that much.”
there he goes, pulling the brother card. but you’re nowhere near convinced. you roll your eyes, downing shot after shot until the alcohol finally combines in your system and soberness is a mile away.
“is that why you came here? to patronize me?” you spit back to soichiro, the alcohol speaking for you and you’re no longer in the right headspace to even be talking.
soichiro shakes his head, one hand taking away the shot glass in front of you before the bartender decides to refill it again.
“no,” his tone is stern and it makes you laugh. “i came here to tell you to stop beating around the bush and tell him how you feel.” he stands up, taking his phone and coat before dialing a number.
his eyes are situated on you and your slumped position, one hand reaching out to the bartender for a refill but soichiro tells him no.
the line rings and finally it's connected.
“hello?” the person calls out.
soichiro looks at you one last time before speaking, “nocturne lounge. pick her up, take care of her. i’m giving you this chance, soshiro.” and without even waiting for soshiro’s reply, he ends the call.
he bows to the trusted bartender before leaving, “please look after her until vice-captain hoshina arrives.” the bartender nods discreetly while wiping glasses.
on the other end, soshiro is undecided. he clutches his handphone is one hand before finally saying fuck it internally and goes out after flapping his coat onto his shoulder. “i’ll be back later, tell captain ashiro i won’t be gone for long.” he tells to his squadmates before finally leaving the headquarters.
his squad members look at each other in confusion, “why is the vice captain in such a rush…?”
soshiro enters the car in one swift motion, his seatbelt is buckled and within a second, his engine revs and he’s steering the wheel with precision. he goes to drive on the freeway, one hand propped against the car door, leaning against it.
he passes by multiple establishments but he doesn’t slow down until he’s in front of the nocturne lounge. he sighs before exiting, slamming the door harshly and he’s off stomping his way towards the bar.
you hear the small bell on the door tinkle but you don’t bother looking up, assuming it’s just another customer and besides, the alcohol hasn’t fully washed out of your system despite the bartender’s desperate attempts to make you drink a glass of water.
he tips off the bartender before taking a seat beside you. the atmosphere changes in an instant and you feel it shift. you look up, to the bartender first then to the man who chose to sit beside you even though the bar is empty.
he’s unoccupied, lips slightly agape like he’s unsure of what to say. your eyes widen almost immediately because no amount of alcohol can hypnotize you from recognizing the subject of your yearning.
you stumble back on your chair, astounded with the view in front of you. “soshiro—!?” you yell out his name and he looks at you, a frown on his lips.
he tips the bartender to take the glass away from you. “let’s go. i’m going to take you home.” he nods off, going down from the stool, offering you a hand.
but you don’t take it immediately. his hand is in front of you, and it will only take a second for you to finally come in contact with his warmth again. there’s an even deeper frown on your lips when you realize the bigger picture.
“did soichiro tell you to come?”
soshiro looks at you dead in the eye because he knows he can’t lie about it. you roll your eyes, feeling pathetic before finally turning around to face the bartender again.
“come on.” soshiro calls out again, tone becoming audibly impatient.
but you’re stubborn. you can’t give in that easily, not when you’ve just been tipped off by your friend because he knows how much you like his brother. it’s almost as if they’re throwing you a pity party.
but when you don’t give in, soshiro’s patience has worn out. he pulls you in by grasping your wrist, you stumble in your steps but soshiro’s grip grounds you back to stability. both of you leave the bar with a harsh ring of the door’s bell.
he opens the door to the passenger seat, and you oblige. when you enter, he’s buckling his seat in the driver’s seat. the car is silent now, it takes him a while to even start it because the tension is evident. he sighs, turning the keys to fully start the engine.
“look, [name]—”
“soichiro told me you’re going to get married.”
the tension deepens now that you’ve opened the subject. soshiro’s hand grips tighter on the steering wheel, frustrated about the fact that you’ve heard the news when his plan was to keep quiet about it to you.
“that’s all? that he said?”
and it was in fact not all, but what good would it make if you told no?
“yeah.” you nod your head, tossing your body lazily onto the side to lean against the window. “congrats, soshiro.” you swallow, pathetically throwing your pride under the bus.
“can i know who the woman is?” you giggle, attempting to lighten up the mood.
“[name] that’s…” but he can’t find the words. after all, at the end of the day, soshiro has become so fragile that he can’t even afford to be vulnerable in front of the person who he has so much to say to.
he merely licks his lips wet before finally asking, looking at you through the rear view mirror. “are ya sober?” you shake your head, “not at all.”
he purses his lips tight, “i tried to argue. i made a promise to ya, [name].” his eyes are locked onto the road now, unable to look at you through the mirror anymore. he doesn’t wish to see your intoxicated gaze that won’t remember a single word of what he’s saying right now.
but one thing about you is you’re a liar.
you bite down your lips, swallowing and the sound echoes in your ears. you shake your head before your hand starts to grip themselves into fists. “promise? you still remember that?”
soshiro chuckles, “how can i forget?”
a smile makes its way to your lips and your head drops, your lips are trembling now. “how different would this be if i were sober, soshiro?” you can’t help but let out a sarcastic remark.
you scoff when you hear no answer. just when you’ve realized that you’ve fully engraved the idea of you being drunk in soshiro’s head, you decide to take advantage of it. “i want to resign.” you blurt out so suddenly that it shakes soshiro up.
“why?”
“because.” you shrug but soshiro doesn’t buy it. “don’t down play it like that.” he scolds you and you can only laugh out in your drunken state.
“i joined the force because i was following someone, soshiro. and that someone is… guess what?” you joke around, but the truth is getting caught up in your throat you can barely speak without choking. “that’s right, he’s getting married!”
soshiro’s grip tightens and he pushes the brake abruptly making the car stutter and come to a stop at the highway’s side.
you can’t look at him. not when his knuckles are turning white and he can’t take his eyes off the busy road in front of him and his head spirals down.
“yer drunk, [name].” and good thing he’s your knight-in-shining armor, ready to save you from the embarrassment of confessing your sober thoughts in a drunken state.
but it’s pissing you off really.
“i’m not, don’t tell me i’m drunk, soshiro!” you yell out, finally looking at him, lips protruding into a frustrated pout. “i’m not drunk… i’m… desperately, hopelessly… ardently yearning for you, soshiro.” you breathe out, eyes half-lidded with the unbearable ache of keeping these feelings to yourself for so long.
you’re yelling at him now, tears pooling on your lower eyes until they’re finally let go with every word you’re spilling out. you feel ashamed, pathetic even, that you’re feeling vulnerable in front of this man who is most probably engaged.
“you… consume my mind… you make my heart your shelter and you… you’ve been here ever since, soshiro.” your volume dies down when you realize. you swallow harshly before your body begins to lean away.
he stares back at you, lips agape and eyes wandering over every feature on your face. he sees the hesitation return in your eyes and when you lips begin to shake he knows what’s about to happen.
“i — ah, i’m sorry—” your hands tremble when you try to break free from the seatbelt but it won’t budge. you’re too shaken up to even do the one thing that will set you free from the situation that will forever haunt you.
but while you’re busy occupying yourself with undoing the rather sturdy seatbelt, a hand makes its way to your own. making you come to a halt when the warmth settles in. you look up and come face to face with soshiro, a committed look on his face and you can’t bear to look even deeper so you avert your gaze.
“[name], listen to me.” he whispers, he leans in ever so slowly, breath fanning against your cheek. “please.” he begs, “look at me.” and again.
you consider it and for a fraction of moment, you look at him but when you do, you can’t keep your eyes off of him anymore. not when his eyes are desperately seeking yours, and when his lips are plump close to your own.
“give me a chance.” he speaks out, one hand making its way to rest against your cheek. “let me convince my parents.” you can’t help but lean against it when he does but another tear falls and you shake your head disapprovingly.
you chuckle softly, it comes out choked because of the frustration that settled right inside of you. “your mother… is not very fond of me, soshiro.”
soshiro sighs, eyebrows furrowed before talking once more. you can see it, he’s determined, he wants this. “i… please, [name].” he fears that he may have gone a bit too selfish for own good. “i love you.” to even say those words, he truly has gone far beyond what he deserves.
“i don’t do empty promises, [name].” he presses his forehead against yours, lips itching to become one with you. “please—”
his lips finally touch yours when your hand makes its way to caress his cheek like how he’s caressing yours. it’s soft — his cheeks and his lips. he’s molding into you, as if this kiss is his only chance to show you how he truly feels.
your breath hitches and tears come splashing down. what good did years of waiting and yearning do to you? “i love you too.”
synopsis : you and kei agreed to keep things casual—no strings attached. but he finds himself slipping almost-confessions that he always swallows at the last second
content: 18+. nsfw — smut. a lot of plot. friends with benefits. smoking — cigs after sex. public sex. choking. fingering. car sex. unprotected sex.
word count: 14k
note: not proof read + didn’t want to make separate parts
"you staying for the bands?"
your thinking process resets when you hear your friend, yachi, ask beside you. she's all over your ear and it doesn't take a lot to even notice her. you swallow a lump in your throat, turning the pen in your hand when you think about her question.
there's a soft hum in the night wind, it's a bit chilly but nothing that your denim jacket can't block. you look up to the stage where the lights are dimmed and the college interschool festival are preparing for the next segment — the showdown of the bands. the sound of it all echoes in your ears — the wind rustling, the lights flickering, your pen spinning, and the faint chattering of the students behind and all around you.
you turn your wrist around to check your analog clock. it read 8:37. you wonder if it's too late already or should you stay to enjoy the rest of the festival.
you look at yachi beside you, opting to ask her if she's staying, "are you?"
she thinks for a while but nods her head after a while. "yep. hinata's staying anyway, and he has a ride. if you need one, i'll ask him for you."
ah right, hinata. yachi's close friend because they've been classmates since high school. you've only became closer to yachi just this college — first person who approached you after you moved to this unfamiliar place.
you shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows. "no, no. no need. i'll take the train. it's just one ride anyways." you purse your lips into a thin line, giving her an assuring smile and she nods her head.
you both look back to the stage, it was far away from where you two sat. away from the crowd that formed right behind the barricade of the main stage. the speaker buzz frequency trials and the mic echoes, they've begun sound checks. there's was a group in front, tuning their guitars until the sound director told them it's all good.
a familiar figure catches your eye — tall, blond, and lean. you wonder where you've seen him before but no specific situation comes into mind. but you do remember him somewhere.
you nudge yachi's elbow, "hm?" you point towards the stage, swaying your finger left to right, gesturing towards the group that is preparing the instruments. "aren't those... uh, hinata's friends? i think i've seen them around him before..."
yachi squints her eyes, focusing her vision to see the people on the stage more clearly. with folded arms she hums, "oh yeah, one of them's my friend." she nods convincingly, "they're probably the reason why hinata's staying."
among the band members, one struck out to you. his fingers expertly tune out the guitar he's holding, one is strumming with mastery while his eyes remain hyperfocused on the sound director who is giving him instructions. but when he's unsatisfied, he sternly asks the sound director that his guitar sound be amplified.
and that, somehow, was attractive to you.
you look away immediately when you get too absorbed in the view in front of you. all more reason is when you can't even see his face clearly because the lights are still dimmed and you're too far away to even catch a glimpse of the light in his eyes. but his figure, it tells you everything that you need to know.
you glance at yachi, scrolling down on her phone, and for a second you consider asking her for his name. but you realize that she might not know him, after all they're hinata's friends, not hers.
but what if she knows—
"what's his name?" startled by your sudden question, yachi jumps before looking at you and towards where your gaze is directed. she catches your view — the band's electric guitarist in the flesh. yachi squints again, but this time, it's a teasing gesture towards you. because she knows this man all too well, and the fact that you're asking for a name invites her to tease you for it.
"tsukishima kei, close friend of me and hinata." she tells you and the name blurs out in your ears.
wow, even the name sounds attractive.
your mind betrays your expression on the outside — nonchalant and laid-back, as if you've got no hidden intentions behind it.
yachi nudges you to the side and you lose balance when you realize that you've been too absorbed in your thoughts. she chuckles, a teasing sound of "oooh" coming out of her lips. her eyes are smiling too, amused by this and everything else. typical yachi, quick to give malice to everything.
"why? you like him?" she drops the question and you furrow your eyebrows.
you don't know why but you've become so defensive to a normally asked question. and when you answer, there's a scowl on your face, "no way. i can't even see his face."
yachi is not convinced and her teasing just continues. but it dies down when you stop talking about it.
but that doesn't necessarily mean that you've stop stealing glances. not when he's down from the stage and he's now staying with this group at the side, leaning against the barricade with his guitar bag on one shoulder. phone on one hand, scrolling and his glasses are reflecting the light from his phone.
this time, you can actually see just a tad bit of his face. you can see his eyes now, hidden beneath the transparency of his glasses. and his lips, pursed into a tight line as he focuses on whatever he's busying himself on his phone. he towers over everyone else on his team. and he's quiet, only giving out snide remarks to hate on his members playfully. he's occupied with his phone but he listens to their rambles — the way that he smirks and chuckles to every joke the group throws albeit his eyes still on his phone is proof of his attentiveness.
you catch yourself looking over at them once in a while and you can't help but let your gaze linger a little bit longer on him. every member looked interesting — they all similar fashion senses. but something about this blond man who hovers over everyone else there because of his height just pulls you in.
you lean back against the chair you're sitting on and groan, "when is it starting, yachi?" you hum out in impatience, staring at the bright moon above and the stars indicating that there would be no rain coming.
yachi hums beside you, and gestures to the side of the stage. "they're drawing lots. it must be starting in a few minutes." you sit back up to see the leaders of each team drawing lots to determine the order of performances.
"i hope they play first." you sound out and yachi hums, not quite catching what you said. but you realize what you're saying and you shake your head, telling her that it's nothing.
in the end, they play last.
hinata arrives to the scene and you nod your head at him, not feeling quite comfortable because you're not all that close with him. you talked here and there, but you've never been this close to him.
"you like watching live bands too?"
just between the moment of having been caught up by your train of thoughts and paying attention to your surroundings, hinata's unfamiliar voice pulls you out. he's leaning towards yachi to face you and you don't process his words immediately — too surprised that he initiated a conversation with you.
you nod your head, choosing to say yes. "if i get the chance too, yeah." the tone is casual and you wonder if you've made a new friend. but with hinata, comfort is easy. he's a natural.
yachi shoots to look at hinata after realizing something. "so right, hinata, [name] here likes tsukishima." her words echo like the reverberating speakers inside your ear and you can't find any opening to deny what she just said when hinata begins to make a big deal out of it.
he yells out a, "whaaaaat?" prolonged and emphasized. the least you can do is shake your head and put your hand out to defend yourself from this nonsense of a rumor that yachi is starting.
the speaker hisses with feedback and the mic echoes when the host speaks on the stage catching each and everyone's attention. the outdoor stadium is loud with the crowd cheering when the segment is finally starting. you and the two's attention now drifting away from the situation and focusing on the host.
"all right, this is everyone's favorite segment! the showdown of the bands! the order of performance is as follows—" the monitor up front shows the list of bands performing and their band name is written as the last performer.
you catch hinata slumping on his seat. "sucks, why do they have to perform last? this is going to be such a long wait." he complains but yachi consoles him. "hey now, we might enjoy the others. besides, isn't it better that they're last—save the best for last, they say." she raises an eyebrow, proud of her reasoning.
you pursed your eyes shut, sleep slowly taking over you. you glance at your watch and see it has already clicked 9 in the evening. and the fact that they're only starting doesn't help.
mid-performance, your head is bopping up and down and you realize that you're falling asleep. you don't know how many groups have performed or how long you are into the segment.
yachi notices you from her peripheral vision and chuckles. "you wanna go home?" she whispers but she catches hinata's attention too. "need a ride? i can give you one." hinata offers upon seeing your eyes heavy with sleep already.
the loud sound of the drums echoing in your ears but it's still not enough to grip you out of your tiredness. you shake your head, telling them there's no need. "i'll finish the showdown. i just need uhm..." you think for a while and your eyes catch a sweets kiosk. "yeah, that will do the job."
you stand up from where you stood, leaving hinata and yachi alone to watch the performance of another group while you tend to your sleepiness and opting to buy something sweet to wake yourself up.
it's a waffle stand, with choices of toppings and syrups. you order something that will definitely wake you up, along with a can of soda. just when you were about to pay, you realize that you left your wallet in your bag. your bag which you left in yachi's care.
that was all it took for you to wake up. you are too embarrassed to even tell the seller because she already had your order wrapped up.
but divine intervention, "here you go." a voice sounds out and you look up — your mind shatters into a million pieces and your heartbeat picks up. no sleep left in your system.
the seller takes the money from the man and you've now essentially borrowed money from someone you don't know.
except you do know this person.
blond hair, tall figure, and a glasses tucked in his ears. it's not hard to recognize when all you've been doing to tonight aside from fighting back sleep was steal glances to this man.
"thank you. but you didn't have to do that." you call out to him, tone low and filtered with shame and embarrassment that you had someone, especially him, pay for your food. he merely shrugs, "noticed your struggle."
you look away and you can't bring yourself to look at him. the waffle is hot on one hand and your soda is cold on the other. you feel your cheeks are warm and the coldness of the wind brushes up against you making your loose trousers sway. silence engulfs briefly before the crowd cheers loudly, signalling that the current performance had ended.
"oh shit," you hear him curse. he quickly puts his wallet back into his pocket before turning around. but he stops mid-way, "uh, you can pay me back anytime—hinata's friend right? good to know we have a mutual." he tells you before running off towards the side of the main stage and in between where the barricades meet.
how does he know you're acquianted with hinata though?
you thank the seller before rushing off back to your seat as the next performance—their performance—is about to begin. you hand yachi your soda, telling her to take a sip because you know she hasn't let a single drop of fluid enter her mouth ever since the event started.
"hey, [name]." yachi calls out after she has gulped down half the soda. you hum, turning to face her. "need something that'll surely wake you up?" she asks and you wonder, tilting your head to the side, acknowleding her to continue.
"get tsukishima's number after this." your eyebrows furrow almost immediately. baffled by the nonsense dare she told you.
you instantly shake your head, "don't be ridiculous." you tell her, "even if i do ask, i don't know anything about him—he might have a girlfriend or something."
"no way." yachi cuts in, "tsukishima doesn't have one."
everything is silent for a few seconds and in that time range, you consider yachi's words.
you give up thinking about it when the stadium lights begin to flicker. yachi pats your thighs excitedly as she repositions to face the stage. you do the same, and the next thing you hear is the drums blaring in your ears as an intro.
the distortion from the amplifiers loudens when the guitarist strums harshly. you try and squint your eyes to filter out the blinding lights to see who is who—and alas, the one currently strumming the intro is him. his guitar is wailing with every strum, and the drums pick up the rhythm when the bass crawls under your skin.
it's starting.
and even though the electrifying sound resonates harmony from all sorts of instruments, your ears blur them all out and the lead guitar sounds louder than any instrument. and your eyes can only focus on one person.
he holds his guitar low on his waist, finger strumming and plucking with expertise. they're long, you notice. and he is pale. you start noticing every bit now that he's under the spotlight. his guitar is embellished with his personality—decorated with stickers and doodled on with names and signatures.
and with the way he's performing, you can really say that he loves what he's doing.
but your thoughts whisper to you, he's very attractive.
the vocalist hypes up the crowd and from your peripheral vision, you could see that yachi and hinata are into it as well. but you can't seem to find your own tempo. you can't bring yourself to jump around and cheer outloud when your thoughts are occupied with the thought of him and his guitar.
all you can see is him and everything else is blurry.
and that's all that you can remember—your attention solely focused on him for the entirety of the performance.
the next second, you're in an unavoidable situation because apparently hinata is close with all of the members.
they all gather after the performance, walking over to us. to where hinata is. immediately throwing inside jokes while congratulating them for doing a great job.
"you did really well!" hinata yells out the moment they are closer. you and yachi distance yourselves a bit, letting circle of friends chat with each other to let their nerves down.
tsukishima stood behind the others. sweat dripped down from his forehead and his shirt is a tad bit see through from the sweat that accumulated during their hyped up performance. he held his guitar in one hand, settling it to lean against a chair before wiping his sweat with a handkerchief. and you are all too aware of it.
he's still riding the high, the adrenaline of performing such piece. and you can see it with the way he's catching his breath and his fingers slightly trembling with the intense strumming he had done.
yachi nudges you. huffing to herself as she indirectly gestures to tsukishima. you turn your head to her with furrowed eyebrows and in disbelief.
she's really into whatever she's trying to start.
"go on." she whispers to you and reluctance washes over you because for a second there, you're considering doing it—getting his number and all.
you bite your lip back, wondering if you should let the midnight impulse get to you or be mature and think of the consequences that is waiting for you if you give in.
but no, the moon is bright and the skies are dark. and you are too star-struck to even think properly. who would miss such a chance to seize the opportunity in front of you?
and besides, you've missed the thrill of doing whatever you are about to do.
"hey."
you call out and he looks to your side, assuming that you've called him. and when he sees you looking up at him, he raises an eyebrow. his actions intimidate you. you were not expecting such a dominant vibe from him—not when he was just paying for your food back then because he claimed he saw you struggling.
"about the money," you start and he listens. turning his body to the side to face you, giving you, what some would call, undivided attention. "i don't have spare change right now, so..." you feel embarrassment creep up again. "can i just have your number so i can transfer it back?"
the air stills between you two for a second before tsukishima’s shuffling through his pockets, fishing for his phone. once it’s out, he gestures that you show yours too so that you can exchange numbers. “oh, right.”
you both take each other’s phones, typing in your personal numbers. when you get your phone back it’s unreal, because yachi is snickering behind you and you feel everything all at once.
“same number i use for my transactions, just send it to me anytime.” he clicks his phone off after saving your number.
you nod your head, “thank you.” you finally express, after feeling bothered the whole performance because you haven’t thanked him properly. he shrugs his shoulders, feeling nonchalant about the whole thing.
“you were good tonight.” your words startle him is all, because his eyes suddenly widen. he’s not expecting this small talk at all.
he looks back at you and you weren’t looking at him at all. a snicker makes its way to his lips and his knack for teasing gets activated. only meeting for the first time but both of you are feeling frisky so what is there to lose?
“oh yeah?” the mocking lilt in his voice pulls you out of your bashful state and your head shoots up to come in eye-contact with him. there’s a smile on his lips and you don’t know what he’s up to with that oddly attractive smirk plastered on his face.
you decide to play along, “oh gee, you’ve got your head in the clouds now that someone complimented you.” you mock back and tsukishima scoffs at this, taking your playful offense as an invitation for a banter.
“real, because i was the one who asked for someone’s number here.” he fires back and your expression is incredulous when you hear him say that.
“would you be okay if i didn’t pay you back then?” you huff out, offended with his words but tsukishima merely laughs.
the banter came naturally, and the teasing along with feign offense. it came off easy. and you’ve missed feeling like this. so everything just blurs out in the background because you’re having the time of your life bantering with the expert electric guitarist you’ve had your eyes on since soundcheck.
it doesn’t take long for the group to finally adopt you and yachi.
when hinata begins taking you along to hang outs with the group, it’s mostly just you with yachi, hinata and his two other friends—tsukishima and kageyama. the four were close friends since high school so you were hesitant at first, but tsukishima made it all so easy.
especially when his mission in life right now is to get on your nerves every time you two see each other.
thanks to the continuous teasing, and similar humor, you found yourself feeling rather closer to tsukishima than the others in the group. and he too, found himself laughing more often when you were around to play along with the jokes that only you two share.
“oh look, it’s miss. who haven’t paid me for the waffle she bought last interschool festival.”
you wanted to drag it for long because you liked having a reason to talk to him. and it worked—the mere waffle became the reason why you two get to have something to talk about.
you glare at him for the long nickname he’s given you. he towers over you with a smirk on his face. eyeing you carefully, reciprocating the glare you’re giving him with playful intentions.
you roll your eyes before taking a seat on the bench beside yachi, “i’m not paying you anymore. i’ve decided.” you scoff away, crossing your arms against your chest and tsukishima lets out a huff in disbelief but the smile never leaves.
“and why is that?” he asks, tone a bit lower than usual. he props his elbow on his knee to lean forward, taking a good look at you without having yachi or hinata in the way. you side-eye him, “because you’re giving me that bad attitude.”
tsukishima chuckles at this, “thank you for noticing. i’m honored to be the subject of your observations.” he teases and you can’t help but smile because it’s witty and it takes a lot to even know that it’s subtle flirting.
the background noises take over the situation and when tsukishima sits straight up, you avert your gaze towards the view in front of you—the entirety of the campus. green grass, college students all over the place, and the antique building standing tall surrounding the field.
“speaking of,” yachi breaks the peaceful silence, “hinata, your birthday is coming up.” she turns to look at hinata who merely nodded his head, blankly looking up ahead.
kageyama quips in with a hum, “any plans?”
but there’s nothing. a second passes by, then a minute. a tumbleweed passing by when the vibe gets awkward with the silence taking over after a question.
hinata does not speak. his eyes are unblinking as he looks up front, obvious that his mind is blank. lips unmoving without any sign of speaking up any time soon.
yachi groans. “don’t tell me you don’t have any plans, hinata!” she puts both of her hands flat on his broad shoulders and flapping him in and outwards as if to snap him out of his thoughtless trance. “don’t be such a killjoy, hinata! your birthday is on a weekend, make the best of it!”
but hinata has ran out of creative juices, and no matter how hard she convinces him, he can’t think of anything fun to do on his birthday.
“let’s just crash his apartment and drink the night away.” kageyama leans back the bench, looking up the sky after nonchalantly suggesting the best idea to hinata’s ears.
hinata perks up to this and immediately turns to look at kageyama with stars for eyes. “you’re actually a genius, kageyama!” he exclaimed, clutching kageyama’s hands in his making the ravenette lean back in surprise to the suddenty of the close distance.
“invite the band, tsukki.” hinata calls out, a smile plastered across his face as excitement slowly takes over him—the idea of having a party with nothing but friends and drinks after one hell of an academic week tasted like a drug.
tsukishima leans back the bench, sighing out before complaining, “too much work. invite them yourself. it’s your birthday.” he waves his hand towards hinata’s direction, an emphasis for the trouble he sees in inviting his bandmates. hinata rolls his eyes at this, “fine.”
you lean back against the bench too, letting your head fall against the rest. you turn your head to the side and the material is cold to your ears but you immediately warm up when you meet tsukishima’s eyes almost immediately. he’s in the same position as you—both of you looking at each other’s direction. the contact lasts for a while until tsukishima decided to be an asshole and shoot you a mocking smirk. with that, you immediately sit back up.
then all of the sudden, everything—and you mean from head down to your ankles—is hot and warm and unfamiliar to the feeling.
it’s hinata’s birthday and you’re dressed casually when you meet with yachi so that you can go together. the night is young, and the skies are filled with stars—an indication that rain won’t be coming to crash the party. and everything else feels the same as how you did when you stayed for the night to watch tsukishima play.
you arrive to hinata’s apartment in no less than ten minutes, and when you do, his apartment is packed. suddenly, you feel all too out of place when you see unfamiliar faces from corner to corner. and the fact that yachi knows them all doesn’t help your outsider syndrome. when you follow her to greet everyone else with a polite bow while she gives them a friendly hug, you feel like leaving.
“hey,” a voice interrupts your inner argument and you turn around sharply to see tsukishima holding two glasses of drink. and as always, a smirk is plastered on his lips.
the frown on your lips is quick to be replaced with a smile that mirrored his. reaching your hand out when he offers the other drink to you. you show him a toothy smile when he brings your glasses together for a toast.
“thank you.” you loll out with your lips protruding out to take a sip of the drink. it’s rich and the alcohol tastes bitterly sweet on your tongue. there’s a hiss coming to shred your throat into pieces but that’s the best part, because you get to meet eyes with tsukishima who had just gulped his glass down.
he raises his eyebrows, reaching out to take the empty glass from you. a lazy smirk rested on his alcohol-stained lips. “want more?” he asks and you nod your head.
he gestures that you follow him to wherever the mini bar was located in hinata’s apartment. leaving yachi to catch up with her other friends. you followed behind tsukishima and you are all too aware of the denim jacket he’s wearing that emphasizes the broadness of his shoulders and the leanness of his figure.
when you two reach the kitchen where the other drinks were, he immediately opens a new bottle and points that you sit down on one of the high stools. he sits beside you and pours you a glass.
cheers, and you both down another glass.
his cheeks are getting redder and you see his features glow in the dim light of the kitchen. you bite your lips as you look down when the alcohol begins to hit. your vision is blurry and when you see hinata and the others coming to crash your solo drinking session with tsukishima, you’re relieved. because you really need to take a break from the rotation.
“hey, don’t leave us out.” hinata pouts, running over yo where tsukishima is seated and takes a seat beside him so that tsukishima can pour him a glass.
“to the birthday boy.” he raises a glass, “happy birthday.”
you grin brightly at the scene and the party goes wild when hinata gets a sip of his nth glass for the night. everything feels alive and you start feeling hot when the kitchen is full of lively people asking for glass after glass.
you get too absorbed in the atmosphere that you didn’t even notice tsukishima’s absence. you pat your pockets for a cig and when you feel two sticks you sigh out. feeling overwhelmed with everything, you decided to excuse yourself for a smoke.
exiting through the front door, deciding to smoke on the patio. but when you open the door, you see tsukishima there, leaning against a pillar, cigarette in between his fingers as he puffs out the smoke.
“you smoke?” your voice catches him off guard and he makes a lousy attempt to clear the smoke he just puffed out. you chuckled at this, “don’t worry.” you show him the stick of cigar you’re holding between two fingers, indirectly telling him that you smoke too.
you pat your pockets again for a lighter as the cold concrete of the pillar next to tsukishima hits your back. but you groan out when you feel nothing like the lighter you owned.
“aw shit, i forgot my lighter.”
tsukishima snickers at this, smoke leaving his lips when he does and you see how his chest moves down with the exhale he does.
you stare at him for a few second while he puts the material in between his lips, inhaling that bitter taste of nicotine. he lets it linger inside his system for long before puffing out the smoke, and his eyes are half-lidded when he does.
he's enjoying this.
“you got one?” you ask him. reaching your hand out to borrow a lighter but he only looks at you.
he places his hand down, letting the ashes of the cigarette fall onto the concrete floor.
he licks his lips and he tastes the bitterness there. for a second, you’re expecting that he gives you his lighter to borrow when he reaches out his hand, but no. instead, you’re met with a half-smoked cigarette in front of you.
he nods his head towards it and you’re left dumbfounded. what are you supposed to do with his half-smoked cigar?
“you know usually people would offer a lighter, not their own cigarette.” you laugh out before tossing your stick back into your pockets to take his lit up, half-smoked one.
you bring it to your lips and inhale the relieving feeling of the smoke engulfing your throat.
you hear him snicker beside you, “yeah but i’m not ‘usual people’ aren’t i?”
you roll your eyes at this before letting the smoke leave your lips with a cough. it’s unfamiliar to you. “your stick is so damn bitter.” you furrow your eyebrows at him, showing your disapproval with the brand that he uses.
he reaches his hand out again, this time, holding your hand that held the cigarette and placing it between his lips to take in a good amount and huffing it out before releasing your hand.
you’re startled with the gesture, he’s so close when he smoked the cigarette. so close that you heard him inhale in the substance. your cheeks are flushed and you don’t know from what—from the drinks, from the smoke, or from the distance.
nonetheless, tsukishima is amused.
“you wanna try something new?” he offers and you wonder what he’s up to. curious of what he means by new, you nod your head.
he looks at you before scratching his neck, leaning back to think about it first. frustrated with the way he’s beating around the bush, you rolled your eyes. “come on, do it. you’re taking too long.” you groaned.
he chuckles at this but he asks anyways, “you sure?” it’s a permission disguised as a regular question.
you pursed your lips out, now even more curious with how careful he’s acting. you shrug your shoulders, “yeah.”
it doesn’t take him long before he’s bending a tad bit down. taking your hand—the one holding the cigarette—in his and inhaling in smoke from the almost finished cigarette. he lets go and the smoke hovers on the roof of his mouth as he’s gesturing you to come closer. his fingers moving and you do what you’re told to.
when you both get on a closer distance, he wraps one hand around your neck. using his strength to pull you in and it doesn’t take him a lot because your body is obliging to him.
for a split second, you’re confused. but when the smoke enters your own mouth, you realize what he’s doing. his lips are locked and pressed against your tightly, not allowing any speck of smoke to leak. he’s essentially kissing you, if not passing the smoke from mouth-to-mouth.
your eyes widen but you feel relief when you feel the substance hit your throat. tsukishima’s eyes are open, staring at you while he pulls the most outrageous stunt.
when you both let go, you instinctively lick your lips. a smile making its way to your face when you see tsukishima smirking down on you, seemingly proud of what he has done.
“just say you want to kiss me, why go through all that trouble?” and you never miss the chance to tease the situation.
tsukishima rolls his eyes at this, “alright.” he mocks back with the same energy.
but he takes it seriously.
he puts an arm around your shoulders before pulling you upwards, forcing you to be on your tippy toes. he leans down and just when he’s inches away from kissing you, he stops. the close distance without contact frustrates you and he doesn’t miss the way your lips are pouting, desperate for contact.
“no strings?” he raises an eyebrow.
“no way.” you reply.
and when you do, his lips land on yours. and it’s honestly sexy that you two are sharing a kiss in the middle of the night, outside your friend’s apartment, with the road right in front of you.
the arm that he had wrapped around you tightens with the desperation that seeps out of the kiss you two are sharing out of impulsivity. your hand lets go of the cigarette and it dies down when it hits the concrete hard. with empty hands, your arms wrap themselves around his waist, pulling him closer when the kiss begins to feel deeper.
and it doesn’t help when tsukishima begins pushing you and you begin to stumble in your steps. the ground is level and after a few steps, you two are hidden in plain sight in the dark corner of hinata’s apartment.
he pushes you against the wall of the apartment, one hand on your waist and the other attached to the wall beside your head. you on your tippy toes and him bending a tad bit down. no matter how much you try, the height difference still yells.
and it turns tsukishima on—how the size difference between you two is making him look so much bigger. and you swear, while in this position, tsukishima’s broad shoulders block you out of everyone’s view.
his lips never leave yours until he begins to feel the lack of air. a string of saliva is connecting you both and whilst catching for air, he pushes away a strand of hair off your forehead and everything feels so intimate all of the sudden. shying away, you bury yourself onto his chest when you lean towards him.
he chuckles and you feel the vibration against his chest.
“do you wanna…” you whisper out, biting back your embarrassment. “continue?” but you need it. especially when he’s so good at kissing it leaves you wanting for more.
“never knew you were into voyeurism, [name].” typical tsukishima, never misses the chance to make fun of you and your freaked out state.
you paw against him, desperate to ease the ache forming in between your thighs. “it’s dark—nobody’s going to see us.”
he snickers at your words, one hand trailing down to your lower back and he begins to caress slowly. its achingly slow, it's making you look pathetic. he chuckles lowly and it echoes in your ears, the hand you held against his chest vibrating along. his other hands repositions and it settles firmly on your shoulder blade, as if grounding you to listen to him.
“are we really doing this?” he leans down a bit, eyes searching for yours—asking for a verbal affirmation from you. his eyes, albeit filled with excitement, were still laced with worry. doubting whether you’re completely sane or did the alcohol kick in.
you shake your head before slipping out a mumbled, “yeah.” your breath hitches, alcohol swirling in and all around your system like an aphrodisiac making you desperate for tsukishima’s touch. “come on, you said it yourself: no strings attached.”
he rolls his eyes before finally giving in when he’s got your affirmation. he’s much of a gentleman to attend to your needs, after all.
a hand slips off of your shoulder and his calloused fingertips—from excessive strumming—touch your skin featherlight. they aren’t unpleasant to the touch, if anything, they are magnetic. continuously intoxicating you to desire for more.
his fingers act on their own and before he knows it, he’s got you in a chokehold. your eyes are lidded when he tilts you upwards so that you can meet eyes. a proud smile resting on his lips when your position yells out possessiveness.
he tightens it and he watches your eyes roll back to your head. using his strength, he pulls you in. sticking his tongue out before closing the gap between you two. you held against his wrist, tip toeing to press yourself against him even more.
your lips move in perfect sync, his tongue swirling against yours, saliva mixing with perfectness. he tastes sweet like the alcohol that you’ve been drinking. but there’s a hint of bitterness, the smoke lingering in the back of his throat.
he’s irresistible.
he doesn’t pull back. instead, he moves down. his lips touch your chin and your neck. he leans your head to the side so he can kiss along every skin exposed until your clothes get in the way.
he bends down, kissing against the bone of your clavicles. he looks up at you briefly, with slits for eyes and the lust is obvious—you’ve got him turned on. your hand makes its way to your chest, trying to unbutton your blouse—it’s a lame attempt because your fingers are trembling. but he stops you, swatting your hand away to do the job himself.
with one hand, he unbuttons the few first buttons of your blouse. when he does, he’s met with the view of your naked body. your breasts are covered with the privacy of your lace bra.
he can’t help but groan. to tease, you jerked your hips upwards, only to be met with his aching erection pressing against your inner thighs.
he hisses when he feels you against him, he harshly pushes you behind. “let’s go slow, yeah? i’m trying my best here.” he cackles out sarcastically while his hand caresses your nape, touch dripping with sensuality.
the softness lasted for a fleeting amount of time when tsukishima suddenly inserts his hand inside of your blouse. his warm hand roaming to explore every inch of your bare back, he pinches a fleshy part and laughs out mockingly when you hiss. it doesn’t take long before his fingers tug on the lace of your bra. he watches as you bite down your lips as he unclasps it with ease.
“hm, you seem experienced.”
he merely shrugs at this. your bra is loose, the strap being the only thing that’s keeping your breasts covered. he relocates his big hand, this time going under your bra and palming you underneath your clothes. your nipples are perked up below his calloused hands, he gropes and pinches them, taking in satisfaction when your face contorts with pleasure from his insane handwork.
“you like that?” he asks, raising one eyebrow while his voice is low and seductive to your ears. you mindlessly nod your head, overtaken with immense delight after having been touched lightly.
you don’t know the reason behind your over sensitivity but you’re certain that you want more.
tsukishima lowers down his head, you have your eyes closed making you unaware of what he’s about to do. but when you hear your blouse unbutton the rest of the buttons restricting him from a view, you’re eyes shoot up. your surprise is fueled even more when he latches onto you without notice.
his teeth graze your nipples and it’s driving you crazy. so instead of reprimanding him, your agape lips let out a sound of bliss. a hitched moan, choked just right below your throat—indication that he caught you off guard.
you squirm beneath him and he adjusts. he breathes out when he detaches from you, your hands trembling when they land on his shoulders. he looks you dead in the eye, “do we continue?”
and you shamelessly nod your head.
he scoffs out a contemptuous laugh, finding the way you’re practically begging for dick ridiculous.
but he wastes no time in repositioning his hand so that they rest on your inner thighs. with little struggle, he pushes them apart—your skirt flapping open—and you’re spread out leaning against a wall—it strains you a bit but nothing too much for what is about to happen.
he keeps a knee in between your own, keeping your legs apart before he brushes his fingers against the bareness of your skin. and he reaches your cloth-covered pussy and he hisses out when he feels the wet patch on it.
“you’re actually so fucking needy for this.” he huffs out in disbelief.
you roll your head back, moaning out softly when he brushes his finger against the slit of your overflowing pussy. “can’t blame me—” you choke on your words when he inserts two fingers inside, curling them upwards before thrusting back and forth.
“hm? continue.” he hums, mocking the way that you’re suddenly speechless when the wave of pleasure from his fingers knocks air out of you.
meanwhile, you had your lips pursed in a thin line, determined not to let out sounds that would be too loud for the people inside the apartment to hear. “ah, fuck—” you groan out, eyes rolling to the back of your eyes as your legs begin to tremble and your hand makes it way to grip on his bicep tightly.
“oh, fuck you, tsukishima.” your eyes open and your lips open wide when you finally reach your high and tsukishima slows his pace down to retract his finger.
he watches as your wetness slides down your thighs and there’s a proud smile on his face. eyes adorning his work of art—you trembling against the wall, lips quivering and unable to form coherent words.
“you’re pathetic right now, you should know.”
the consistency of this man—never misses the chance to tease you. albeit his mean words, there is a scornful smile on his lips that stretches widely, obvious that he’s enjoying everything.
he wraps an arm around you. for the record, he takes his time in letting you ride down your high—even putting in the effort to nestle you into his hold, his warmth acting as some sort of soothing method.
“still good?” his voice is softer this time. his arms around you are comforting rather than firm and suffocating. and despite the throbbing pain that shoots down his lower extremities, he still asks.
you nod your head, patting your hands against his chest before clearing your throat and gesturing below to where his erection is obviously up. his eyes follow to where you’re pointing and chuckles when he sees the evidence of his own arousal.
“i can’t do this out here, [name].” he whispers out, chuckling in between words.
you look up at him, “then take me to your apartment.” certainty is apparent with the way you say it—no hesitation and words clear.
he laughs again, finding the entire situation worth the laugh. “then get into my car, princess.” he points to where his car is parked, bending a bit down to show his princely charms.
you see his car across the street, pursing your lips tight before clearing your throat again. you close your blouse with one hand and you squiggle a bit, trying to realign your panties back into position. and you began walking with tsukishima snickering behind you.
you clasped the seatbelt tight as tsukishima starts the engine, when it does, it revs quietly.
when the car starts moving, you ask, “aren’t they going to wonder why we left without saying anything?” tsukishima shrugs, steering the wheel with one hand while the other rests on the gear.
“they’re too drunk to even notice i bet.”
you chuckle at this because he has a point.
along the quiet highway, his speed begins to pick up and you wonder what’s got him all worked up. “aren’t we driving a bit too fast?” you chuckle nervously, firmly holding onto the handle before you hear tsukishima smack his wet lips together.
“[name],” he swerves to the side. a highway lit up with nothing but streetlight and a few 24/7 convenience stores in the distance, you and him inside of a car with nothing but the empty road in the vicinity. truly dangerous. “i can’t do this.”
you hear him say it lowly then it’s followed by the sound of his seatbelt clicking and the next thing you realize is him pulling you towards him with his hand around your neck.
your eyes widen for the first few seconds of his lips roughly crashing into yours. but it doesn’t take you long before you start feeling like butter when you melt into the passion he pours into the kiss. his fingers tangle themselves into your hair while his other hand trespass the privacy of your clothes to grope you again.
“fuck, you taste so fucking good.” he moans out into the kiss and you feel like you’re being tugged towards the driver’s seat when his hand leaves your breast to land on your waist.
and he indeed, pulls you into his seat. the car wobbles a bit when you relocate, now sitting on his lap with your back arched when your clothes pussy makes contact with his erection.
even with just a mere erection, you can feel his thickness. and the thought of having it inside you made you want it even more.
so, you begin to grind shamelessly on his lap. the wet patch on your pussy forming on his own as you roughly grind back and forth on his arousal.
“oh fuck.” he groans into the kiss before jerking his hips upwards to meet your grinds. but he’s unsatisfied. he plants his hands firmly on your waist and stops you, making you whine.
“wha—why?”
he begins unbuckling his belt and his dick is released of any restriction. “oh my, fuck you.” he curses and you watch how his dick twitches with excitement.
you plant your knees on either side of him before putting your panties to the side and palming his tip. your fingertips caress his sensitiveness tip before you finally let it touch your entrance.
you bite your lips down when the feeling of it rushes to every part of your body. with closed eyes and a half-assed moan of his name, you let yourself sink into his lengthy girth. his dick is unsurprisingly big that it stretches you out and it strains you. his thumb draws circles on your waist, a lame attempt in easing your discomfort on trying to adjust to his size.
“fuck, you feel so good, baby.” you lean back when his tip finally makes contact to your good spot and his entire length is gone from vision—inside of you.
he can’t speak. because you’re squeezing him so damn tight it’s driving him crazy. “loosen up, baby. i can’t move…” he groans out, firmly clasping his hand on your hips.
he feels your pussy loosens and his dick twitches. seated on his lap, you began to bounce up and down. letting his tip hit your good spot over and over again. but tsukishima is left wanting for more when he’s discontented with your pace. so, he helps you by jerking his hips upwards again. the sound of skin slapping echoing in the small car.
“ah fuck, [name], you’re squeezing me so—ah.” he moans out loud and you hear it because he has his lips next to you ear when you’re slumped weakly on his shoulder. “ah—tight… so good, baby…”
“fuck, tsukishima—” you bite your lips down before opting to bite onto his shoulder. “im so—ngh—close…” your hips bounce even faster with your body desperate to chase that high.
tsukishima immediately puts his hands on your waist, pulling himself out of you before he shoots his load—white cum decorating your stomach. while your body trembles with cum leaking out of your pussy staining his pants.
your body is weak when the orgasm ends. you can’t help but lean against him, let your eyes close as sleepiness tries to take over.
tsukishima sighs out, breathes out heavy breaths. looking to his side to see you asleep on his shoulder while you straddled his lap. he lets out a laugh.
“ah, so you’re the type to get sleepy after it, huh.”
when you wake up, you’re not met with the black sheets of your bed. instead, you’re met with fluffier white sheets and on a bed far wider than your twin-sized bed. and you’re not wearing anything of the thin fabric clothes you own but you’re covered in an oddly oversized cotton fabric shirt.
the space beside you is empty. and the surroundings are cold, eyes slowly drifting to the turned on air conditioning system. you feel the cotton fabric stick to your naked skin, and when you peel below, you wore nothing except your underwear.
you shoot up, standing and the cold tiles of the floor make contact with your bare feet—it's a relief when you remember the hell you went through last night wearing heels.
your eyes scan the entirety of the room you’re in—black-painted walls, cabinets holding oddly masculine things, and two electric guitars hanging on the wall.
this is definitely not your room.
you walk on eggshells, traversing across the room to get to the slightly agape door. you perk through the small crack and see the living room. the couch, facing forward, was occupied by someone.
someone so familiar. his broad shoulders are out in the open as he keeps one arm resting against the couch rest. his hair is disheveled, obvious that he had just woken up. the television is running sone sort of channel—a volleyball match.
you absentmindedly push the door further open and it creaks loudly. you hiss when it does because the man slowly turns his head around.
“had a good night’s sleep?”
his voice is lower than usual, an even more apparent sign that he just got up. his face is free of any of the usual glasses that you see, bare-faced and slightly wet from facial wash.
“is this…” you tread lightly as you inch towards him, holding the shirt around you tighter. “your apartment?”
he nods his head before patting the space beside him, encouraging you to sit. you do as he tells you but you let a bit of distance get in between, intimidated by the size of his apartment.
“i took you home since you fell asleep in my car. didn’t know where yours is so yeah.” he lowers the volume on his television. “you wanna go? i can give you a ride.”
you stay quiet, the clothes around you feel cold when the centralized air conditioning system finally settles in the deep parts of your exposed skin.
he notices your discomfort, “oh right. your clothes.” he stands up, goes around the room to get your clothes that hang loosely on one of his dining chairs.
he hands you them but he doesn’t miss the faint surprise in your face. then some thought troubles him.
“do you not remember what happened?” his voice is a bit higher than usual—nervous that you might say no and that he might have taken advantage of you.
you don’t overlook the obvious anticipation and immediately shake your head. “of course i do—” your breath hitches when your eyes lower themselves to catch a glimpse of his swollen red lips. “i’m just… really surprised, that's all.” you look away.
you immediately scatter from where you sat, “oh my, i’m not overstaying am i?”
tsukishima chuckles at this, “nah.” he waves his hands off, “you can stay if you want. matter of fact, i’d rather that you do stay.” he raises one eyebrow before finally settling back to sit on the couch and taking your wrist along with him.
when the couch hits your back, you don’t only feel the comfort of his warm cushions. but the warmth of his arms as well because he has you underneath his arm. his palm planted firmly on your shoulder as he looks up in front to watch the television.
“is this necessary?” you chuckle, but nonetheless curling up into his arms.
his chest vibrates when he laughs with you. “thought you might be cold wearing nothing underneath my shirt.” he says smoothly and your cheeks blush red.
he feels you shrink under him and he rumbles in amusement. “you know, you’re shy for someone who was so damn bold last night.”
your eyebrows furrow and your cheeks redden almost instantly. you shoot up, firmly placing your hands on his thighs as you look up. “well i’m sorry but i got to say you were really good—made me forget about a lot of things so i’m looking forward to this partnership.”
he’s silent with a patronizingly amused expression on his face. it’s obvious that he’s growing pretentious with your words, proud that he’s made you feel good.
“yeah? call me when you need some serious forgetting then—and i’ll call you for mine.”
you’re all dressed up for a date. cheeks all pink from blush, lips are red like blood and your hair is all done like you’re about to star on a met gala.
but your clothes are ruffled from all the time you’ve spent sitting on a high stool in some bar that a guy decided to take you for a first date. except the guy never showed up. and you’re stuck in your seat, holding a glass of dark liquor.
when you take a sip, it’s bland. the ice had already melted and it tasted horrible.
your phone rings beside you and the caller i.d read his name—tsukishima. you roll your eyes before finally answering, putting the phone at a distance from your ear. “hello? why are you calling me—i’m not in the mood to fuck i’m sorry—”
“yachi said you didn’t show up for the afterparty.”
oh right, the afterparty of your college block that you ditched on purpose because you had this stupid date that you got stood up on.
“uh, yeah, tell her i’m sorry about that too.”
tsukishima stays silent on the line but you don’t hang up. the thought of someone on the other end of the call, listening to the noisy ambiance of the bar felt reassuring.
“where are you?” he finally speaks.
you lick your lips before biting, “i have a really bad night tsukishima, i can’t do shit right now.”
“that’s why i’m asking—isn’t that why i’m here?” he cuts in the line and you’re pissed off. why can’t he just leave you alone for this one night.
“listen, i just got stood up. i really can’t fuck you right now.” you bluntly confess and there’s a mocking scoff on the other end before he speaks out. “someone stood you up? what an asshole.”
you rolls your eyes, “why do you care?”
“yeah why do i? location, please.” he doesn’t care how pathetic he sounds right now, tone desperate that he come to your side to be your knight-in-shining-armor.
the call ends once you tell him the name of the bar and you sit quiet in the noisy bar, a glass of bland dark tequila in your hand and an aching lips that is needy for one makeout session with tsukishima. that’s all that you need right now to forget the fact that you’ve been stood up.
the bell on the door rings and you look straight to the entrance. seeing him wearing a denim jacket and disheveled hair. you raise your hand up and he spots you, immediately making his way to you right after he orders a drink.
he sits beside you, both you facing the window and your backs facing everyone else in the bar. the distance between you two are almost non-existent with the way he’s constantly trying to evade your personal space.
“why are you still staying here?” his voice is sultry when he asks, taking two glasses off the waiter’s tray before they move on. he pushes the other one to you and you take it, immediately gulping the entire shot.
you groan out the spice that you feel when it hits your throat with maximum flavor. “because i need a drink. because i got stood up.”
he chuckles at this, he observes how your cheeks are flushed from the drink and your lips are slightly plumpier than usual.
“i think you need more than a drink.”
his hands get under the table, away from prying eyes and they land on your thighs. his fingers immediately caress the plump flesh inside and it’s dangerously close to your aching core.
you bite your lips down when his fingertips touch your clothes pussy. “really? here?” you hiss quietly, only for him to hear, subconsciously closing your legs.
he snickers and there is a mocking edge to it, especially when he says, “isn’t this what we always do? why should it feel different when we do it secretly around people?” his fingers slip inside and his nails graze the inside, he feels you tighten almost instantly.
you lower your head, propping your elbow on the table when he picks up a steady pace. you hear your own heavy breathing echoing when you finally plant your head down.
there’s lewd noises coming out in whispers that only you and him can hear. it’s all muffled and silent when the surroundings is loud with multiple chit chattering happening all at once.
a waiter approaches and offers a drink. tsukishima smiles politely before telling that he will purchase two. meanwhile, you are being tortured under the table, lips bleeding when you bite down onto it to try and keep your noises to yourself.
but he feels so good.
“ngh…” escapes your lips and fortunately, the waiter has already gone to another table.
he picks up his speed even more and your body jerks up. your hand then plant on his thighs, gripping tightly when the know begins to unfold. his fingers are coated in your white goodness and there is an arrogant smile on his lips.
“drink up. i’ll drive you back home.”
you shake your head at this, “why would you do that?” you spit out, alcohol speaking for you.
but it’s a question you’ve been meaning to ask. a question that you need to hear an answer for because you two are in a roundabout that does nothing but confuse you.
tsukishima’s breath falters for a second, wondering what he would reply but there’s already a response in his head that he dares not say.
it’s three words and eight letters.
he dares not say it because he knows you have a point. why would he go all the way as to drive you home when you have your own car waiting in the parking lot—when you two are merely in this intimate partnership and nothing more.
just two people using each other to forget things.
his silence is all you need. silence that clarifies everything. nothingness that teaches you regret.
maybe you shouldn’t have let yourself in this kind of set up in the first place.
especially when you’ve had your eyes set on him the moment you saw him up on the stage, artistic in design and magnetizing to the eyes.
while munching on whatever snack you decided to feast on, you get a notification.
tsukishima: come over, studio. yachi is here.
your eyebrows furrowed, confused on why he’s suddenly inviting you to their band practices. “well, this is new.” you swallow your food before tossing the wrapper inside the bin, whilst typing in your reply:
you: 5 mins
there’s hesitation when your finger presses onto the send button, waiting for you to let go for the function to be activated.
but when your eyes close and you see a vision of you in that room, front row to the art that made you fall deep, there’s a haptic sound from your phone indicating that the message has been sent.
oh, he’s got you helpless.
tsukishima puts his phone back into his pockets when he reads your response on the notification window. immediately focusing back on whatever arrangement they are working on.
you walk towards the campus studio, where the college band works on new pieces to play when representing the name of the university. you haven’t been inside the studio yet, and you don’t know what to expect when tsukishima suddenly invites you.
a bunch of cologne-reeking men playing their instruments with mastery. and an expert electric guitarist that had you in a mating press just last night in his apartment because he was fed up with the way his drummer is constantly ordering him around.
and now that you’re invited, you’re actually excited to see what their drummer looks like.
and when you step foot inside, you certainly weren't expecting such appeal—his black shirt is loose, draping in one shoulder making an off-shoulder appearance. ripped jeans and drumsticks swirling in between his fingers as he tapped on the bass drum below. and there’s a smug smile resting on his lips.
“oh, [name]!” yachi catches you by the door and immediately stands up from the floor. hinata follow then, seems like the two were just slacking around.
your eyes search for a certain blond anyways, closing the door behind you to catch yachi in your arms. “why are you here?” she asks you with wide eyes. you look around and your heart beat faster when you see no sight of the man who invited you in the first place and now you feel like you’re intruding.
“i called her over.” tsukishima’s voice sounds from behind you and you see him busying himself with an amplifier. “thought it’d be a good idea since you’re here too.”
yachi shoots you a teasing look and you shake your head disapprovingly before she drags you towards an empty space where she and hinata were sitting before you arrived.
their a faint buzz from their electric driven instruments. and with the count of the drummer’s sticks, the band begins to play an unfamiliar arrangement. all of them seemingly on their game when a smile spreads on their lips.
but they’re interrupted when their drummer makes a mistake in the timing.
“my bad.” he chuckles lowly and your eyes scan his actions.
he’s everything that tsukishima described to you while you moaned out his name. everything that he complained to you while you’re catching your high, your legs spread apart and his cock deep inside you.
the man that he speaks of all night while he’s buried inside you is sitting on a stool, chuckling innocently all for a mistake he did.
you can see tsukishima’s annoyance from where you sat, inattentively listening to yachi and hinata. he snaps his gaze towards you as if indirectly telling you a “see” and you chuckle at this.
but the drummer catches you. a smile snaking its way to his lips as he nods his head to your direction when your eyes meet. “you’re a new face. tsukishima’s?”
you immediately shake your head, “a friend.” you purse your lips into a thin line but the air gets awkward when tsukishima’s hand slips and accidentally strums a loud note that echoes repeatedly.
“oh yeah?” the drummer lolls out. “nice to meet ya. suna rintarou. as you can see—drummer.”
yeah, you’ve known his name all this time, only because tsukishima has been cursing him over and over again with every thrust that he delivers sending shivers down your spine to how good it feels when the tip of his cock hits your good spot.
he begins drumming a piece that doesn’t sound anything like the arrangement they’re playing. and it sounds so familiar. he keeps his eyes on you while he bangs on the drum set.
you look down and realize you’re wearing a band shirt. and he’s playing a song of theirs.
“yeah?” he nods along and there’s a smile on your face when you realize that he just recognized them. “fellow obscure artist listener?” he ends the piece with a chuckle, bopping his head when you finally vibe with him.
there’s a wide smile on your lips when you inch closer, dragging yourself so you can speak a bit closer. “oh yeah.” you point to your shirt and he laughs.
“tell me your favorites.” and the conversation lasts for another five minutes or so until suna is finally pulled out of the interaction when the bassist strums harshly, ushering him to continue with the practice.
“really sorry, but we need to practice, yeah?”
tsukishima is fed up again. a deadpan expression on his face as his grip on the guitar’s neck tightens and he almost snaps his pick into two. he looks up before finally strumming it harshly when his part comes in.
his guitar is louder and suna looks back at him, “yo. too loud. turn it down.”
he subtly rolls his eyes under his closed eyes before obliging, tuning down his amp so that their instruments blend smoothly again.
and you’re unaware of everything.
you spend the entire afternoon listening to their arrangement over and over again. and along the way, you actually build some sort of connection with suna when he remarks out comments that only you catch the reference to because it’s about your favorite band.
when the practice is over, tsukishima calls out to you while he’s putting his things back into his bag, swirling the wire around his fingers so it’s tucked neatly. you walk over to his side with raised eyebrows, “yeah?”
he tucks the wire inside the bag, “let me take you home.” he stand in front you, exhausted with the extensive practice they just did and his shoulders slump lazily. he looks down on you, begging that you say yes.
you swallow a lump before pathetically looking away, “you really don’t have to.” you try but he insists. “please.”
you can hear the yearning in his voice. although his expressions don’t say much, you’ve grown closer to him that even with the slightest shift of tone in his voice, you notice.
and while you’re as emotionally wrecked as he is right now, your body lets out a sigh and your head nods. “alright.”
and you don’t understand how you’re easily giving into him and his selfish needs that he uses you to forget his own problems. perhaps, your mind has adapted to the lifestyle that you two have agreed on.
you follow him to his car outside the campus. you’re comfortable in the passenger seat—there is a tube of lip gloss, a compact mirror along with an unused handkerchief and a packet of rubber in his compartment, evidence that you’re expected every time.
you notice it, even if it’s a small detail, because your heart warms to the fact that he does these little things.
little things that barely mean anything. and the fact that you let it linger in your mind longer than necessary, haunts you.
because it shouldn’t be anything.
it shouldn’t occupy such a vulnerable space inside of your mind. but it does, and that scares you.
that’s why little by little, you’re trying to say no. to refuse when he asks for you and your body. because you’re opening up piece by piece and to you, he’s still a hard shell you’ve yet to unravel. and it’s hard because there’s unwillingness from him.
there’s obvious reluctance in opening up to you—as if you’re unwelcome to the raw version of him. while you are slowly being unveiled unintentionally by him and his confusing actions.
the engine revs and the car finally starts moving. there’s quiet silence in the way that you two are just sitting, eyes up front to the view of the road and lips unmoving without words.
but you want to talk. you want to talk to him about everything.
but you’re scared that if you do, you’d cross another boundary in your so-called partnership.
so instead of initiating a conversation, you wait. even if it takes minutes before he finally speaks, you’ll hold on to that little hope that tsukishima’s lips will moves to say words that you’d hear out.
“you were really happy with suna back there.”
he breaks the silence with the words you least expected you’d hear from him.
your head snaps to the side, eyes a tad bit wider than normal as you peer your head to see his expression. you can’t see his face clearly—it’s hidden underneath the stray bangs that covered half of his face when he has his chin on his propped hand, one hand on the steering wheel.
you lean back to your seat when the seatbelt restricted you from leaning in further. there’s a frustrated thud when you do.
“really? i didn’t even notice.”
there’s a disbelieved scoff exiting his lips when you say the last word. “yeah, hard to notice when you’re so into the conversation you two were having.” there’s a sarcastic sneer when he says it and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
you chuckle mockingly when you realize the story.
“yeah?” you taunt, “what’s it to you if i had fun?” there’s wit when you say it, a hidden intention to push tsukishima’s buttons.
his hand turns white when his grip onto the steering wheel tightens, eyebrows furrowing when your words get to him.
you decide to push further, “does it make you jealous?” a toothy grin up your lips and your eyes side-eye him to check his expressions.
his jaw tightens and you see the firm grip he has on the steering wheel. then after a fleeting moment, a scoff is all that he can give you as a response.
not a sentence, no word, just a scoff.
it weirds you out—the way that he doesn’t put in any effort to deny what you just said. a simple no would’ve been nice.
“why would it? it’s not like we’re together or what—” you look away immediately but your words get interrupted with a harsh screech from his car. and when you look out the window, your apartment’s in view.
“get out,” the lock of the doors to his car clicks open as he firmly tells you to get out of his car.
out of surprise, you aren’t able to move in time when his patience finally runs out. his own seatbelt clicks before he’s hovering over you, pulling the seatbelt off of you before grabbing you by your collar and the next thing you realize happening is your lips against him in a harsh kiss.
his teeth graze your lips and it feels suffocating because he does it with so much force. the hand he has on your collar loosens and relocates to grip your chin with the same amount of intensity.
your hand immediately comes up to push against his chest and he pulls away, eyes lingering on your widened ones.
“the fuck?” you curse out before patting your shirt back down when he gripped it upwards earlier. “what’s wrong with you all of a sudden?”
he sighs out before running a hand through his hair and adjusting his glasses as he leans back to his seat to grip the wheel again.
he clicks his own door open before spitting out a cold “i said get out.”
he gets off the car and walks around to open your door, his hand slips around your wrist to tug you out. it’s firm but the careful gentleness is still there. the door slams close and he clicks his key to lock the doors. he yanks you again, this time towards your apartment door where he opens with zero hesitation with his own keys that you gave him.
the door creaks open and he pushes you inside before intruding in himself. at this point, you’re just going with everything that he’s doing, too startled to even form a coherent sentence to ask him what’s wrong.
and it all becomes clear when the door closes with a slam and you’re pressed against it. the lock clicks when he turns it.
“is this what this is about?” you finally speak out when he hovers quietly over you, head resting low, powerless from your words. “me and him talking and you don’t like that?” there’s a laugh in between your words, as if to mock his current situation that he so dreaded from happening.
your head turns to the side to look away with an unamused grin on your lips because he’s refusing to speak clearly to you.
as much as you want him to man up and speak, you know he has no obligations in doing that to you. because again, this is mere physical intimacy—nothing emotional is supposed to be going on.
“talk to me, tsukishima.” your voice is low, desperation still seeping through as your hand tightens into a fist.
the hand he had planted next to your hand snakes surrenderingly to the side of your head. cupping your cheeks and caressing the softness of your skin before he leans in to kiss you again.
“kei.” he corrects you but it does nothing to soothe the fast beating of your heart.
your lips are molding into one another again when he pulls you back in, plump flesh intertwined into a passionate share of kiss. his lips are trying to open yours and when you get the signal, you let his tongue inside. he’s tangling you both into a knot, as if he’s desperate to become one with you.
you let out a lewd sound when his fingers make contact with your neck, slowly encasing until he’s got you in a chokehold—perks of this partnership is that he knows what you want.
he only gets more and more aroused when he feels your throat vibrating with your muffled sounds, helpless when his lips are devouring your own.
he pulls away but his grip tightens, “you know how i feel about him.” he spits out and your eyebrows furrow—did you actually make him jealous?
“why—” your breath hitches when his free hand leaves your waist and moves to lazily push the buttons of your blouse off. you try to pay no mind to his sensual shenanigans, “—do you care? why should… i adjust for you?”
you know what game you’re playing here, you are all too aware that you have the upperhand. just a few more words and you can coax the words that you’ve been meaning to hear from his own red and swollen lips.
“are you seriously jealous?”
your words hold humor but there’s clear intention behind them. and when tsukishima doesn’t speak, you take it as a yes.
“but why?” you ask breathily when his hand falls flat on your stomach—your blouse now open and your torso out in the air. “we agreed to no strings attached.” you chuckle sarcastically but your teasing lilt falls silent when his hand makes its way around you to unclasp your bra with ease.
it falls onto the ground and you’re half-naked in front of him, still begging that he tells you something.
it's ironic to you, you're asking questions and telling words that contradict your own feelings. because, since when did you ever see this as something so light as "no strings attached"?
his lips twitch when he hears you ask why, but his body refuses to listen to his unorganized mind that begs him to take a moment. he lowers his body before tilting his head to latch onto your nipple, his other hand stroking your breast and it only fuels his desires when he hears you failing to hold back your moans.
“i asked… ngh—you why.” you’re close to crying when the desperation to keep him so close to you and the restless need for answers begin to combine.
your fingers tangle themselves into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer when his tongue starts to do wonders on your perked up nipples. your knees buck and you melt in between the door and him sucking on your nipple. your core is aching and you feel your panties getting wetter with every passing moment.
he pulls back, “i’m sorry.” he mumbles out while his hand is slowly undoing the lock on your pants, pulling
down the zipper before he takes it halfway off of you.
he’s not even letting you catch your breath when he kneels down, takes your leg and puts it over his shoulder.
“why—” you’re lost for words when his nose hits your aching core. he sniffs your panties without shame, making your cheeks warmer than ever and your thighs painful with the need to close them but his head is in between them. “why are you saying sorry…?”
he acts as if he doesn’t hear you when his teeth makes contact with your wet pussy, he pulls your panties off with his teeth and you let out a moan of his name, “fuck, kei—!” and without sparing another second, he clings onto your hot sensitiveness with his tongue entering you in a matter of seconds.
with just this, you feel overstimulated. your shoulders and hands are trembling when you hold onto his broad shoulders, he’s constantly nipping and sucking onto your wetness without breaks and it feels like you’re about to break any second.
there are tears forming in your eyes, lips bleeding when you bite onto them hard when his tongue continues to please you up until he’s had you squirting all over his face.
“kei… it feels so fucking—ah—good.”
he pulls back, holds onto your waist when you start to fall under your own weight—the orgasm taking over your strength and you feel like a melting candle under his flame hot passion to make you his.
he then carries you bridal style, moves across the living area to meet with your bed’s edge. he tosses you harshly onto the bed, pulls off your pants completely along with your underwear.
you try to fight back, in hopes that you come down from your high completely first but he doesn’t back down. instead, he kisses all over stomach while actively taking his shirt off.
he stands tall over you, eyes free of the glasses he usually wore and his eyebrows furrowed. there’s evident confusion in his eyes, but there’s also a lingering need behind them. and you can’t exactly pinpoint what kind of need—it’s not the usual glint of lust you see when you two do this, it’s far more intense to just be labeled as a sign of lust.
he reaches out for your wrist and guides your hand over his toned abs. his fingers caressing your own while he does so.
when you two are looking into each other’s eyes, your lips move to speak.
“do you love me?”
your hand drops to your side when he lets go abruptly. there’s a frown on his lips before he tilted his head to the side while his fingers were busy undoing his pants.
“what would you want to hear?”
he places both of his hand beside your head and he hovers completely, his dick hangs loose off the restriction of his pants and it’s fully erect with arousal, the tip touching your stomach when he teases you unintentionally.
the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes finally fell loose. your eyebrows furrowed with emotions and your body is shaking when you reach out to wrap your arms around him.
he lowers himself a little and the next thing you feel is your inside slowly growing fuller and fuller with his length.
“oh fuck.” he groans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels you pulsating against him. it’s utterly sexy to him—the way you feel so welcoming when he’s fully inside, as if your pussy has been waiting for his dick.
you bite your lips down and there’s an loving feel to your expression.
“i can’t do this anymore, [name].” is what he says before he begins to thrust into you at a slow pace. his hips hitting yours when he does so, “i can’t fuck you properly when you’ve just talked like that with him.”
he speaks as if his name is not worth muttering.
his pace grows faster, groaning with every hit. his hair is disheveled and there is sweat rolling down his face, “i can’t have you talking with him when you’re like this with me.” he watches your face contort with pleasure.
“so fucking vulnerable with me and you let him talk to you like that?”
now it’s obvious.
he’s faster than ever now, the bed creaks and you’re scared it might break with his pace and intensity. you’re crying now, begging that he go slow because it feels like he’s splitting you open. but he doesn’t falter.
“go… fuck—ah—slower!” you mewl out with a loud moan, your heartbeat fast when you realize your volume. “kei—!”
“i can’t slow down baby,” he groans out, his hips bucking into you making your body vibrate and jiggle. “not when you’ve made me feel like this.”
you close your eyes, mind circling with stars as you’re drunk with the feeling of his dick becoming one with you. you’re tightening with every second, pleasure washing over you like never before. he groans out loudly when he begins aching from the suffocating hold you had on him.
tsukishima plants his hands on your hips firmly when he feels his high coming, and before you know it, you feel empty when he pulls out. he doesn’t even need to give it a stroke before white goodness starts gushing out of his dick and he’s spraying it onto your stomach.
he notices that you’re still not coming so he immediately puts three fingers inside of you before muttering a small, “sorry.” as he pumps them in and out in lightning speed that has you trembling in no time.
“fuck fuck, wait—kei—” you yell out, holding onto his hands as if telling him that your body is in pain and when he pulls away, your body releases. white cum and you’re squirting all over him too.
he breathes out heavily as he watches you come undone beneath him. your breasts are red with bite marks, pussy wet with clear and white liquids and your hair disheveled when he tugged onto them a while ago.
he licks his lips before lowering himself onto you, giving your swollen, lonely lips a fat kiss.
when you two are sitting side by side on the edge of the bed with the covers around your naked body and him half-naked holding a lit up cigarette in one hand, there is comforting silence. he hands you the cigarette and lets you take a blow.
“let me stay by your side, i promise i’ll make it worthwhile.”
im my no1 hater when it comes to my own works <3 this is pure word vomit & kinda rushed bcs i got lazy
synopsis : sae comes home expecting comfort, only to find his girlfriend avoiding him for reasons he doesn’t understand, forcing him to confront the growing tension between them.
the video appears randomly on your feed—a new interview that happened just a while ago while sae was attending a celebration as a guest.
a journalist comes up to him with a hot topic, and the question blurs in your ears the moment you heard the journalist ask. "rising athlete itoshi sae, the people are asking: is there or is there not a girl behind the scenes?"
sae doesn't answer instead he just looks at the journalist with a stoic expression on his face, intimidating the writer.
and upon not having any answers, the journalist puts matters into their own hands. "okay, you get it guys? silence means... no!"
wasn't it the other way around?
"you heard it girls and guys, rising athlete itoshi sae is single!"
the reporter had easily twisted sae's actions. the camera swiftly switches to the next public figure adjacent to sae leaving him no choice but to accept the fact that he fucked up.
perhaps his choice to stay quiet in hopes that the reporter second guesses his decision to ask him such a private question was wrong. perhaps, privacy isn't such a big deal in social media today.
sae subtly rolls his eyes before ushering his manager to the mini bar station where the party was offering cocktails, in hopes to relieve his stress.
unfortunately for you, the video online ends where the journalist announces that rising star itoshi sae is single.
your eyebrows furrow, ears hearing a deafening silence when the video goes off. your eye twitches as soon as you open the comment section. thousands of fans commenting as if they're going to secure a spot next to the itoshi sae.
you knew what you were signing up for when you began dating sae. but you never expected that fame would take him from you this fast.
the denial, the non-committal effort to correct the journalist all point out to how sae's slowly getting farther and farther from you. and the fact that he's never home these days doesn't help.
maybe it was wishful thinking that this relationship could last.
or maybe you're just thinking too much into it for your overthinking mind to bear.
you don't know what it is that fills you. is it sorrow or is it your temper slowly seeping out of you? that, you cannot know for sure right now.
nonetheless, you can't bring yourself to scroll down the comments any further. there's a clutch in your chest and it gets tighter with every passing moment that your eyes skim over the fan commentary of the video.
the house is surrounded with white noise as you try to get your mind off of it. you clean, you read, you watch tv. anything that doesn't include holding your phone you did already. because once your fingers are wrapped around your phone, you'd be consumed by the need to check the video again.
that night, sae comes home clad in his black slacks and a plain white tee. seems like he had the time to change outfit before coming home to you.
the front door opens and your heart skips a beat from where you were eating in the dining area. you swallow a lump but you remain composed, acting as though you're not about to give sae the most gut wrenching silent treatment.
there's a thud in the floor, signalling that sae had put his bags down with little to no effort. the shoes in the front door scratch the wooden floor and it's all so loud. all of the sudden, you're hyper conscious of every little sound that emits from every corner of the house.
"i'm home." he calls out from the living area. his steps are light as he traverses the bridge between the living and dining area, looking for you.
he spots you sitting on the dining table munching on a dessert bowl you prepared yourself. sae looks around, searching for signs of food but he sees nothing except your dessert bowl.
he stands at the edge of the dining table, plants his palms on them and peers down at you. "you're not eating proper dinner?" he assumes already and you feel ticked by it.
normally, you'd be used to sae's small sessions of scolding you for not eating your meals properly but this one particular time you're kind of pissed off to hear him scold you.
your eyebrows furrow but you don't speak just yet.
"hey," he calls out again. "answer." there's that stern tone he uses when he's berating you for not taking care of yourself.
but really, this time, he's just annoying you and your perfectly curated dessert bown of nothing but sweet goodness and one speck of fruit.
when he realizes that you don't have any plans on responding, he scoffs out an offended huff. tossing his head to the side to avoid looking at you with an exasperated expression. he licks his lips wet before pushing himself off of the table.
"i've got no energy to deal with this, [name]." he dismisses it altogether easily, and your lips turn downwards into a frown when you hear the door to your shared room slam close loudly.
you don't acknowledge yourself for being petty because you remember the video again.
you bite onto your dessert with gritted teeth, upset with the fact that he dismisses you like that after denying you on public television.
it's not like you two ever agreed to keep this all a secret, so why is he acting like you're some sort of forbidden treasure he's got to keep a secret from the world?
you value your privacy really, but to be denied is another thing. especially when it's inviting wandering eyes into the situation because sae is, without mistake, a public figure. it is wrong to want him to be yours and yours alone only?
you roll your eyes to yourself, slamming the wooden spoon onto the empty bowl before harshly standing up and hearing the seat screech against the tiles. your actions are now reflecting your unquiet insecurity that your overthinking mind brought you.
the harsh slam echoes against the thin walls of the house and it reaches your shared room to where sae is currently in, dressing out of his clothes to wear comfortable ones.
he hisses in the sharpness of it and wonders what's got you in such a mood.
he turns the doorknob with the same intensity, the oak door flying open as he searches for your to ask what's going in but he finds no sign of you.
he furrows his eyebrows in frustration but he hears the sink in the bathroom run in gentle current and his mind settles again, at ease to know you haven't left the house.
he's restless. the fact that you haven't spoken a word to him ever since he came back from work has had him at his wit's ends. and all of the sudden, he's got no courage to open up a random topic to you and yap about his day because your demeanor has intimidated him.
at the end of the day, itoshi sae is still your long term partner who has surrendered his strong front in exchange for intimacy and vulnerability that is exclusive to you and only you.
the evening drives by fast and in the blink of an eye, sae is laid on the bed, staring up to the ceiling with coldness emitting from beside him. your side of the bed is empty, and sae's all so aware of this.
last time he had seen you was when you were busying yourself with your monitor back in the living area. he washed up hoping you'd be ready for bed the moment he's out but no.
he's done with everything and yet, you're still outside the bedroom. indulged in whatever work that's keeping you occupied. with one lamp turned on in a warm setting and the bright light from your monitor, the entire house is shrouded in darkness except in your small work corner where you stay, refusing to speak or acknowledge his presence.
now that he's settled in this oddly spacious bed, his thoughts are rowdy in the quiet calmness of his solitude.
he can't help but think about it. why is his usually bubbly girlfriend refusing to acknowledge his presence? or is he thinking too much into it and you're merely too busy to even bat an eye.
sae's patience wears thin.
the next morning comes around fast. sae closes his eyes and the next when he's opening them, he's met wit the bright light of dawn and an empty space beside him. his alarm goes off a few moment after he wakes up.
seems like the strangely cold ambiance of the room drove him to open his eyes and be met with no source of warmth beside him.
he groans when he realizes that you're really nowhere to be seen in your supposed shared room. the usually warm morning he wakes up is non-existent. he runs a hand through his hair, frustration slowly building up.
but sae's got no idea how to cope. does he willingly commit to whatever you're pulling and just let you be? or does he put in effort to coax out whatever the problem is going on with you that is getting in the way of your relationship?
he's in a slump.
nonetheless, he doesn't act on it immediately. he decides to wait until you break out of your bratty character that refuses to recognize his on going frustration.
he gets ready for the day after checking his packed schedule. he thinks for a moment while buttoning up the shirt he decided to wear.
does he tell you about the schedule and be ignored? or does he stay quiet and play along with whatever's wrong with you and let his frustration build even further.
sae's dilemma continues.
up until he's munching on a piece of bread he toasted himself because you're too occupied with your work for the day to even bat him an eye and offer that you cook up something quick so that he doesn't tire himself throughout the day for not eating the most important meal of the day.
he's getting tired.
he watches you by the kitchen island. leaning against the marble furniture, lips wet with water that he drank, eyes studying as you squirm in your reclining chair, looming over the data on your monitor.
he becomes all hyperconscious of what your wearing and how you're perched up on the recliner chair that he bought you. a thin oversized shirt draped over your figure with nothing underneath it. the shirt settles gently just beneath the flesh of thighs and he gets a peek when you place your legs onto the chair.
he looks away immediately. throat closing in and his jaw tightening. he tosses the glass onto the sink, running water over it as he leans lazily against it. his lips are pursed together tightly.
he leaves the kitchen, goes around towards the living room, grabs a coat from the rack and hangs it over one shoulder.
"i'm going to work." he calls out while putting on his shoes. "be back before dinner." he reminds but you don't listen.
he waits by the doorway for a while, an irk mark appearing on his forehead when he realizes that you’re not paying any attention to him again.
you stay focused on your work. or at least, you tried to.
you heave out a sigh when an unfamiliar data comes across your screen. you lean back and the chair reclines, you cross your arms over your chest and you think about how to manage this.
the house is suddenly quiet. you wonder if sae’s gone to work. so you look around. slowly turning your chair to see if everything’s safe. but that’s where it goes downhill.
when you turn around, you’re met with sae standing in front of you and your eyes meet for the first time since last night. he looks down on you as if you’ve wronged him, and for a fraction of second, you feel so small. the way he towers over you is intimidating, not to mention the way his one hand is settled on his hip.
he’s mad, and it’s evident in his gaze.
you bite back your shame, trying to recover by turning back around but that just made everything even worse.
one hand firmly lands on your chair’s arm rest and you’re quick to be rotated back to face him. this time, sae’s leaning down. crouching down to stare at you at an eye’s level.
your eyes meet his immediately. but it doesn’t take you long to regain composure and you remember what he’s done so your head turns to the side at light speed, avoiding his gaze altogether.
sae rolls his eyes at your pathetic move to avoid his gaze.
his free hand moves and the next thing you realize is him holding you by your chin, forcing you look back at him. his grip is harsh, the frustration he’s feeling is evident with the way that it’s undeniably firm.
you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and a bratty look. he scoffs at this. but that’s all he does before going in for a rough kiss.
he’s moulding his lips with yours, inserting his tongue in between when he notices your lips are slightly agape from surprise. your eyes are wide while his are staring back at you with nothing but rage. but the way that you’re not doing a lot to fight against his kiss tells him that you’ve been waiting for this too.
so instead of pulling away to give you time to breathe, he pulls you in even further. you almost choke with the way that he’s kissing you with so much heat. it makes you look pathetic but he knows you so well that he’s got a kiss memorized to the way that it makes you moan out in satisfaction.
when he hears you, he immediately pulls away. and you’re left with swollen lips when he pushes you against the chair’s back. your eyebrows furrow and he knows that he left you unsatisfied when he pulled away so suddenly when you’ve just begun enjoying it.
“don’t know what’s gotten you so upset but don’t go depriving me of my kisses, yeah?”
he says that and he leaves for work.
you roll your eyes when he waves a mocking goodbye before leaving.
the door shuts close and you’re left alone with the deafening silence of the house. whatever you’re doing it frustrating not only him, but you too.
and you only realize it when your lower extremities starts pulsating with the way that he kissed you just now. and to edge you with an unfinished make out session? you start questioning if this is still worth the act.
you recline your chair to the maximum, groaning with the way your body is tingling with the unsatisfied feeling of having your desires unmet with the man that you love. there’s a frown on your lips and an on going heat forming underneath your panties.
the hand on your face slowly makes its way to your neck and you hear yourself breathing heavily when everything else is so silent. your monitor hums softly and your chest heaves up and down in a slow tempo.
your fingers begin to tease your buds. you bite down onto your lips when one finger begins to rub your nipple. your eyes close as you begin fondling your breast, and the need to have sae’s tongue circling your nipple grows stronger with every rub you do to yourself.
you’re torturing yourself. and it gets even more painful when your free hand starts to trace down your hips and to your clothes pussy. your panties are soaked and your finger starts to circle on the wet patch.
your shame is non-existent when you put your panties to the side to have your slender fingers make contact with the wet result of your sexual frustration.
your lips are agape when you let your fingers rub against the entrance of your soaking pussy. the friction feels insane to you, and it leaves you wanting more. you speed up and you feel a tight knot forming in your lower stomach. but it’s not enough.
your nails graze the insides of your sensitiveness. and it feels surreal. it doesn’t take long before your impatience gets the best of you and you begin pumping your two digits in and out. there’s a wet sound resonating through the living room and you can’t hear anything else except it—not even your muffled moans because you have your lips in between your teeth.
you can’t help but echo out sae’s name when your fingers are speeding up. but it’s nowhere near the speed and the length of sae’s fingers. it doesn’t quite reach the good spot that leaves you empty in the head.
so when you come, it feels unfinished. your hands are soaked with your cum and everything else.
it’s nasty. the view of you with your fingers tucked inside your pussy and the other hand fondling your breast. your lips agape, saliva dripping down on one corner.
oh what would sae say.
the front door clicks open and there’s shuffling. you swallow a lump, turning a page of your book, trying to act all nonchalant with your boyfriend’s arrival from work at a rather early time.
you want to ask him why’s home so early but you can’t bring yourself to speak with him without thinking about how he has denied you on national television.
“i’m back.” he calls out and expects a reply but still nothing so he huffs out when he realizes you’re still on this silent treatment game that is making him look desperate and pathetic.
sae enters the living area and sees you by the couch, occupied with a book. you wore an oversized shirt and very short shorts underneath that if not seen in view, one would mistake you as half-naked.
he places his bag on the table. “what have you been up to all day?” he asks, attempting small talk. “reading books?”
but nothing.
and there’s no more of sae’s patience.
“alright,” he starts. voice dropping an octave. “why are you so upset? you don’t even speak to me anymore.” he calls out and your heart skips a beat, realizing that he’s talking about it.
but he doesn’t get it. he doesn’t know why you’re so upset and somehow, that made you even more upset.
you don’t answer again. “hey.” he perks his head up. “i’m talking to you?” his voice is sarcastic now, offended with the way that you’re really committed to this silent treatment shit.
there’s a moment of silence before your book suddenly leaves your hand. he slams the book onto the glass table and his bag tumbles down. alarmed with the way he’s acting, you push yourself back against the couch but he doesn’t let you.
he catches your ankle and pulls you back in. he puts his arm beneath your knee and the other on your back, he hoists you off the couch with almost zero effort and you’re left limply trying to get off of him but his tight hold against you made it hard.
he stomps across the living room and he reaches the front door of your shared room. he kicks it open with one foot and pushes it forward.
upset, he tosses you onto the bed and you bounce against the mattress. you immediately crawl back until your back it against the bed rest but again he doesn’t let you. he pulls you back onto the edge and your legs are on either side of his hips now.
“still not gonna tell me?”
he stares down at you as if to make you feel dumb. you feel small under him, and it doesn’t help when he puts a hand beside you and he leans in making you fall flat on your back. the distance slowly disappears and the next second he’s talking directly to your face.
his breath fans your nose, “what’s up?” he raises an eyebrow, licks his lips and you catch the way his eyes travel down to your reddened cheeks and lips.
there’s a slow silence in between now when sae falls silent. he’s gazing down to every inch of whatever is in front of his view—the entirety of your beautiful face and your perked up nipples beneath the thin oversized shirt you’re wearing.
you grows equally frustrated. “come on, baby.” he whimpers and the desperation is obvious with the way he’s trailing his words.
his head hangs low and you can’t see his expression anymore. next thing you know is he’s leaning down onto your neck. his hand searching for yours before he bites down onto the flesh of your skin. it’s harsh and his teeth dig into your skin, desperate that he marks you.
you wince and your eyes close in pleasure. there’s now a red mark on your neck and he licks over it to ease the pain that he has inflicted on you. he apologizes lowly before moving to the other side and kiss the upper part of your neck just below your jaw.
you crane your neck to the side unconsciously, giving him more space to kiss all over your vulnerable neck. his tongue traces down a trail of saliva and he bites down on the flesh part of your neck again. he sucks against it, lapping on it and when he releases, there’s a bruise.
“tell me.” the hums out, his throat vibrating against your skin and he continues to mark you. he goes down to your collarbone, biting down to every fleshy part he comes across. not even minding if it can’t be covered.
you shake your head. squirming under him, “can’t tell you—ah,” you huff out a breathy moan when his hand invades you beneath your shirt. he wastes no time and starts fondling your breast. “you gotta…” you breathe out, “remember what you did.”
he rolls his eyes before he uses one hand to push the shirt over your head. you let him do so, giving him a nonverbal permission. you’re sprawled out on the bed with your upper body in the view for him to adore and mark.
his lips tug upward and he’s never been this turned on. your chest heaving up and down in a slow pace. but it’s deep—the way you’re looking right into his eyes. as if you’re desperate for him.
how are you able to make his dick ache with so much pain by just laying down beneath him? it’s honestly magic to him. how he’s still so down bad for you even after you’ve made him so sexually, physically, and emotionally frustrated.
“say it.” he nods to you.
but you don’t reply immediately, instead you shake your waist sensually against him. arching your hips just a tad bit so that your wetness comes in contact with his bricked up dick.
he rolls his eyes back and he doesn’t care one bit if he looks so pathetic in front of you right now. because he needs you so bad, and it doesn’t help his situation that you’re actively seducing him to do rough sex just so that you’ll admit whatever is on your mind.
he lowers himself down onto your perked up bud, lapping onto it and he stares up at you when he does so. you make eye-contact and you melt. your back arches, inviting him to bite against your nipple to get a reaction.
and he gets what he wants.
“ah, fuck. sae—” you moan out his name when both of your breasts are so full of his attention. one receiving mouth game from him and the other is being loved by the slenderness of his fingers.
but he’s not convinced at all. he licks your stomach while he tugs your shorts off. you bite your lips as you look down to see him kissing the space between your navel and pussy. the distance between the two drives you crazy because you just want him inside of you and nothing else.
he watches as you squirm when his lips make in contact with your bare inner thigh.
“stop teasing for fuck’s sake.” you curse out, feet pushing him away but he catches your ankles and uses it as leverage to push your thighs open. you wince when the pain hits your bones.
“oh yeah?” he hums out before finally placing his wet lips onto your equally wet pussy.
he begins to expertly circle around your sensitive bud. two of his hands settle firmly on your thighs, trying to keep them open when you’re trying to close them to avoid overstimulation. he closes his eyes, focused in the way that his saliva is mixing with your fluids. his lips feel sticky but that’s the way that he likes it.
how can he not like it when you’re slowly unfolding before him? when the way that his tongue is exploring the inside of you is the reason for your eager moaning?
you cry out his name when you unravel. “fuck you, sae.” you curse him out when your thighs tremble and your body shivers with the gravity of the pleasure that’s taking over you.
he stares back at you with a smirk. proud of what he has done. he looms over with the way that your body is unravelling and your pussy leaks out your white goodness.
he stands in front of you and he cups your pussy with one hand, pushing in his middle finger just when your cum stops spilling out. he begins to pump it in and out and your eyes widen.
“w—wait, i’m still—”
you call out but you stutter when he adds his ring finger in. he raises an eyebrow, ushering you to continue but his speed and length makes it hard to speak and organize your thoughts again. he mocks you by adding another finger in and his speed accelerates. he holds your thigh down when you begin trembling, fingers hitting that one spot and it doesn’t take you long to spill out again.
sae retracts his fingers when your thighs close from the wave of pleasure washing over you. he shakes off the wetness on his hands and he unbuckles his pants with one hand. pulling out his belt and tosses it onto the floor before letting his pants pool on the floor.
your whining out your overstimulation when you see sae stroking his dick in front of you. a tear falls out of your eyes and it trickles down your cheek. it doesn’t go unnoticed by sae, so when he leans down, the tip of his dick touches your entrance. he crawls over you, wipes the tear away and kisses your cheek before slowly sliding into you.
you moan out his name when his dick fills you to the hilt. his size and girth overfilling every corner of you tight pussy. he groans when he feels suffocated inside you.
“fuck, baby, you’re so tight.” he moans out, stroking the bump on your stomach, asking that you loosen up before he cums inside youwithout even starting.
you do as you’re told and you calm yourself down but the fact that he’s so big doesn’t help. your lips trembles and your eyes water again. when sae’s busy adjusting to your tightness, you’re crying beneath him. your arms over your eyes, whimpering out your sobs.
“you said—” you choke out and sae shoot up to look at you immediately when he hears how your voice is incomplete and you’re sobbing out your words. you sniffle, “on national television that you don’t have a girlfriend.”
you finally reveal it when your tears swallow your face. every inch of your cheeks wet with your tears. you’re crying and it’s because of him—from both angst and overstimulation.
sae listens, and your pussy loosens around him when you finally let your feelings out.
“mhm.” he hums out, acknowledging that you continue with your rant. he props his hand flat on the matress and begins to move inside you. he thrusts gently at first when he waits for you to continue.
you whimper, “why would you, ah, d—deny me?” you croak, now crying out without restrictions.
when sae hears your words, his pace fastens and his thrusts go harsher. he copes with the idea of his wrongdoings by firmly holding onto one side of your waist and heatedly smashing both of your bodies together with every thrust that he initiates.
“yeah?” he groans out, a moan exiting when pleasure begins building up inside him too. you feel so good around him right now and that fact that you’re crying over him turns him even more and he’s motivated with the fact that he needs to do some serious making up because he has made his pretty girl upset.
he lets go of your hips and he circles his thumb around your clit. he positions one of your legs over his shoulder and he thrusts even deeper. your moaning out every echoing slap of your skin together, a choked moan for every thrust that he does.
he leans over you, kisses your lips and you catch him with ease. he leans back and kisses away your tears. “i’m sorry.” an apology from him and you’re back to moaning out his name.
“fuck your apologies.” you curse out, almost spitting on him and he understands your frustration. he lets you curse him but with the way you’re actively moaning with every thrust assures him that you don’t mean a thing.
he pushes in harshly, shoots his load deep inside you as you do the same by spilling out around his cock. he groans, tilts his head back.
“oh fuck [name], you feel so fucking good.” he curses underneath his breath and he lays flat on you. he breathes out muffled words, “what should i do to make you feel better about it, hm?”
when he’s vulnerable, you turn both of you around so that he’d be the one laying down and you’re on top straddling him. he looks up at you in disbelief and he only scoffs.
“let me ride you while you beg for my forgiveness.” he begin to move yourself back and forth on his cock and it feels sticky with the cum residue that sticks on your skin. but the sensation isn’t bothering you and sae’s dick is pulsating inside of you.
you place both of your hands onto his chest before you begin to bounce. sae is amused. with the way that you’re jumping on his cock, your boobs bouncing with every ride and your lips agape, unable to conceal the sexiness of your frustration.
he finds you beautiful even like this. naked on top of him, ready to challenge his dominance. eyes staring blankly down at him, asking that he say sorry for what he’s done.
he rests his hands on your hips, circling his thumb around your skin before he thrusts his hips up and you’re recoiling with the way that he does it so suddenly. his speed takes over you and you’re now lowering yourself onto him.
“oh, fuck—” you mewl out lewdly, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and it’s honestly music to his ears.
“would you take it as an apology if i married you, so we could announce it to the whole world?”
@/bluelock_news: athlete ITOSHI SAE announces marriage to non-showbiz, long-term girlfriend!
[one pic attached: itoshi sae’s bare back in the view with a girl wrapped around his arms. a glint of a diamond ring can be seen.]
synopsis : what began as simple teasing and speculation gradually turned into a consistent habit
content: slight nsfw – making out, plot heavy, lowkey ooc yuta
word count: 5.7k
note: not proof read, highkey word vomit
yuji exits from the rear door and sees you and yuta alongside a few others—no, the whole group. he waves a hello and yells out a loud, “hey!”
everyone turns their head to the side to see yuji skipping his way to them at a near distance.
“oh, yuji, are you done with clean-up duties?” maki grins out and yuji rolls his eyes knowing that he’s been assigned to do clean-up duties alone because he lost a game.
“i asked him to pick between morning clean-up duties or afternoon and he chose morning.” fushiguro says while yuji eyes him carefully.
the whole group laughs when he stomps the remaining steps towards the empty space beside fushiguro and nobara. settling down onto the green grass, he can’t help but chuckle when nobara pinches his waist to tease him further.
the sun is bright and out and everything feels just right. sat beside yuta under an oak tree, you watch how the group converse with each other with obvious familiarity and comfort. a smile makes its way to your lips when you realize how strangely warm you’re feeling right now.
“you alright?”
a voice steals you back to reality. his voice fading the background of laughter and your attention focuses solely on him now.
you tilt your head to the side to see yuta leaning down, face close to your own, and his eyes wide in interest as to why your cheeks are blaring red right now.
“huh?” was the only thing you can blurt out.
having yuta’s face so close to your own and his hand resting behind you to prop himself straight so he can lean down with no problem is not exactly the most ideal situation to be in considering how your face can often betray how you actually feel.
“you’re like really red right now, [name].”
your eyes stare back at him when he asks that and for a second, you question why are you both staring at each other so deeply as if you’ve got your own little world.
but the tension dies down when you shake your head frantically, causing him to back away. more so when you put a hand between you two to create some sort of gap because the proximity is driving you a tad bit crazy.
“yeah, i’m okay just… suffocated.” you breathed out, opening one button on the upper part of your uniform revealing a white shirt underneath it.
“ah, training.” panda blurts out, completely ruining the happy mood that everyone’s in by reminding that they still got quota for the day.
nobara rolls her eyes, “let’s go [name]-senpai, maki-senpai.” she stands up lazily from the green grass, inviting you two to change with her.
before standing up, you spare yuta a glance. a smile makes its way to your lips before following nobara and maki.
when finished with changing, you three made your way to the open field to see everyone else warming up before starting. descending the flight of concrete stairs towards them, your eyes stilled on yuta who is clad in a loose navy blue shirt and loose pants. katana clutched in hand as he gives you a closed-eyed smile when he catches your gaze.
“do you wanna do drills with me?” yuta is the first one to approach you, taking long strides to meet you halfway.
he stands before you, a smile plastered on his lips as he shakes the two wooden swords in his hands, hoping you’d say yes. he hovers over your figure but his eyes never look down, he bends just a tad bit so that he can speak on eye-level with you.
perhaps, that’s the part where your heart should begin racing, right?
you nod your head and he hands you the other wooden sword, a silent yet victorious huff escaping his lips.
with the sword in your hand, you two distance yourselves from the others. “go easy on me, [name].” yuta chuckles when he sees you roll your eyes at his words.
“yeah, as if i need to go easy on you.” you shake your head in disapproval, not buying his weak-guy act. “if there’s anyone who should be going easy, it should be you.”
“i won’t hurt you on purpose, you know that.”
yeah, because that means something.
it leaves his lips in the smoothest way possible and you can’t help but stagger in your movements and freeze in place for a fraction of time wondering whatever he meant by that.
your swords clash each other, bouncing off impact time to time. the echoes of the wooden weapon making contact with one another is rippling right into your ears and you can’t hear anything else in the background.
not even yuji yelling.
“[name]-senpai—! spar with me too!”
you only hear it the third time he’s yelled because yuta jerks his head to yuji’s direction. you follow the direction and see yuji beaming at you with sparkling eyes. practically begging his upperclassman to spar with him.
you look back at yuta who shrugs his shoulders in defeat. “i yield.” he raises his arms in the air and with that, yuji leaps through the air to take the wooden sword from yuta.
the air is light when yuji looks at you with innocent eyes. your lips tugging into an equally wide smile when you realize that yuji's been looking forward to this. so, as his most esteemed upperclassman, you can't really let him down.
with a leap on your dominant feet, the air shifts and the next thing you see is yuji right in front of you. the sword clashing in between you two and your strength equals each other.
"i've been meaning to ask you, senpai." yuji says as you two repositions.
yuji slices through the air when you dodge but your swords come in contact again when he blocks your next attack. your eyes staring back at him with your eyebrows furrowed this time, confused why he's got a somehow somewhat unexpected question for you.
you hum in acknowledgement and yuji's smile widens even more.
your confusion only reaches its peak when yuji suddenly takes a big breath—
"[name]-senpai, are you and okkotsu-senpai going out?"
your vision blurs because he doesn't only whisper it to you—he yelled it out. his loud volume echoing through, probably, the entirety of the campus and obviously, the whole group heard it. your arm weakens and yuji's able to push you, making you stumble behind.
but what's even worse is that, the people around don't exactly discourage yuji for yelling so loud. in fact, they join in.
"right! i've been wondering, too!" nobara grins like crazy, "they're totally dating, itadori. why are you even asking that?"
you're too shocked to even deny it as of the moment. their voices blurring into the background and you're too deep into disbelief.
megumi doesn't do a lot to scold them, instead he just watches, listens, and nods.
you regain back your sense of reality and you stood back up straight. waddling towards them with en exhausted expression, sweat dripping down your forehead.
"no way." you deadpan at them. glaring at the three first years. "he's a friend. a best friend even, maybe." desperately shaking your head to debunk whatever has been planted into their heads.
steps make their way towards you and behind you, you feel him already. your heart skips a bit, scared for whatever reaction he has.
"yeah, she's right." yuta nods his head, a pout evident in his tone. "don't go yelling stuff like that, itadori." he scolds with a grin.
maki hums from the side and she crosses her arm, "but really, you two wouldn't mind dating right?" her glasses shine as she eyes you both carefully. the three first years doing the same, anticipating your replies.
but nothing came.
a minute passes by and neither of you got to open your mouths to answer—to deny, or to say yes. just mere silence encasing the awkward situation.
but good thing, panda's there to save the day.
"yeah, totally dating."
or not.
"salmon." you sneer and glare at toge when he makes a sound. he hisses back and puts both of his arms in the air. guilty, he says.
yuta shuffles behind you and you don't have the heart to even look around and face him. because after all that, yuta still didn't answer on his own accord to save himself or you from whatever rumor is about to start.
and suddenly, you feel tension between you two. as if magnetic opposing each other, too tight to even go unnoticed. did what just happened change everything?
you bit your lips until blood seeped out faintly and you feel the metallic taste on your tongue.
you hate how it all suddenly feels heavy.
how all of the sudden, you can't even look at him the same way you did just a moment ago.
everyone resumes training like usual, but you feel tugged by something intangible. as if something is keeping you from staying in the same vicinity as yuta because of what happened.
the distance is obvious. how, you are purposely sparring with someone far away from him, or inviting someone and letting them walk the long way so that you'd be doing drills meters away from him.
yuta's focus has been disturbed. his strikes get lousier, his defense becomes destructible and his eyes are wandering.
when training finally comes to and end, the entire group collapses onto the ground. arms and legs spread out as if to make a snow angel, a sigh leaving their lips as a sign of exhaustion.
you look to your side to see yuta by the concrete stairs, head leaned back, eyes staring at the white sky. his chest heaving up and down, trying to catch his breath from the extensive sparring he just did with maki.
maybe you've been mistaken and that you're just looking too much into the situation.
you decide to toss away the distracting thoughts. quickly shaking your head side to side in attempt to relieve yourself of the confusing thoughts that the situation earlier brought you.
"water?"
there's a cold sensation on your cheek now, bringing you back to reality when you've been completely consumed by your thoughts again.
your hand reaches out to take it from them, casually opening it as if you haven't been offered a cold bottle of water by the same man who haunts your peace right now.
when you do take it, he takes a seat beside you. you scoot over to the side to give him some space and when the background noises blur again, leaving you alone with yuta's presence so close behind you, you feel like running away from whatever this situation is.
"thanks." you hand the bottle back to him.
yuta looks at you, "you okay? training didn't tire you out, didn't it?" he asks indifferently and it makes you think if you're the only who looks at the situation as if it's the oddest thing on the planet.
you shake your head to spare him a response, "all right."
"good."
"[name], let's go to the cafeteria." maki calls out to you, making you look up from the material you're reading. you set the book down to join the other second years.
sat by the benchers of the cafeteria waiting for panda to finish buying snacks for the group, you placed a hand against your cheek, lazily looking out to the distance. mind slowly wandering to sensitive topics such as your best friend suddenly acting as though you two have something going on. and the fact that he does it consistently doesn't help.
"earth to [name],"
maki's voice pulls you out of your dreamland again. these days, you've been staying more and more into your archive of thoughts. wandering and skimming through every question that only you and your mind have access to.
"yeah? sorry." you blink rapidly, straightening your posture as panda approaches with a bunch of snacks in his arms. your eyes sparkle when you catch a glimpse of your favorite snack—though, not exactly a snack but a rice meal.
you reached out your hands to panda and he instinctively gives you your favorite thing to eat. "wow, real thanks, panda! you know me so well." you hum in satisfaction, slowly peeling the upper cover away to reveal the delicious goodness inside.
panda huffs at this. maki sighs while watching you devour the entire meal in one go. "slow down, [name]."
her voice is muffled by the sensational flavor of the meal. the rice is cooked just right and the sweetness along with the saltiness of the food melts on your mouth. everything is just right.
however, mid-chewing, your mind asks you again.
where is yuta?
"hey," and your lips betray you by asking out loud. "have you seen yuta?" you eye the three of them and they shrug.
"probably with gojo-sensei or something." maki tosses you a tissue as you throw the empty packaging inside of a trashbin beside you. wiping your fingers against the tissue you snort, "yeah, probably."
then, silence engulfs the group.
"nothing beats lazy afternoons like this when gojo-sensei is occupied with something else that doesn't include making us train."
your body slowly leans against the bench, hands laid on your stomach as you let out a yawn. the wind blows warmly with the hot weather and now you're craving something sweet and cold.
"it's so hot..."
"salmon..."
you slowly close your eyes when you feel the heat radiating through the air, humidity making your skin sticky and your forehead sweaty. "real hot..."
"you guys are here?" yuta's voice is obvious when he calls from behind you.
maki hums first then panda who grunts, inconvenienced by the heat that's making his fur stick to one another.
you pay no mind to yuta—or, you tried to. which you fail miserably when he casually, again, takes a seat beside you on the bench. but in hopes to seem indifferent, you don't open your eyes nor make big movements to show that his unexpectedness has made your heart race just a tad bit faster.
it's hard not to be flustered when the subject of your confusion and overthinking suddenly arrives and takes a seat beside you.
"hey,"
maybe, you were too overstimulated from the heat to even hear his voice calling out to you, or maybe you're just ignoring him on purpose. but surely, you can't ignore the way his pinky is hovering over yours in hopes yo get your attention in some way.
you purse your lips into a thin line because ignoring him would just be a waste of your time. "yeah?"
"have you eaten?" he asks out of the blue and now the questions have doubled.
you nod your head, still keeping your eyes closed. not wanting to open them and see yuta right beside you and have your cheeks blare in the color of scarlet red and have everything, including your feelings for him, out in the world.
"[name] still has space for dessert, though." now what was that for, maki?
you cursed in your head, swallowing a lump when you hear yuta chuckle. "then let's eat ice cream. it's good for the weather, too." he invites.
"you know what, i'm gonna to take a bath. i'll pass." maki is quick to reject. "i need airconditioning, yuta." and panda, too. "salmon." and of course, inumaki does too
"come on, my treat, [name]."
having no choice but to give in, you nodded your head. slumping your body against the wooden bench and the group snickers as they scatter away to do their businesses that most certainly doesn't include buying ice cream with yuta to relieve the heat of the sunny day.
yuta is the first one to stand, stretching out his arms, letting out a groan before complaining, "it's really hot."
you hum in agreement before following behind him. the ice cream shop isn't that far away from the campus, surely it's just a five minute walk.
but a five minute walk with yuta meant agony to you.
it's basically like inviting awkwardness, silence, and combined introvertness into the already tense atmosphere.
but, with you, yuta will find whatever topic there is that will make you talk. because, simply, he likes hearing you talk.
and that, you don't know about. because yuta keeps secrets. a lot of them. big ones too. and most of them include you.
halfway to the ice cream shop, yuta asks, "you mastered your technique yet?"
it's been a while since you last spoke to each other properly. he came back from africa not too long ago and the way that he's changed a lot intimidated you; making you less confident in walking up to him and striking up a conversation.
it's strange because you used to do it without any hesitations before.
but now, it's hard to even maintain eye contact with your so-called best friend when his figure is now a lot broader than what you are used to. now that his voice is a tad bit deeper but the innocence still lingers. now that he towers of you at an obvious difference.
"i'm almost there." you reply, voice timid, unsettled with the way that you're casually conversing with the one who disrupts your sleep because you overthink every little detail of the interaction you have, and will have with him.
he nods and he sways his body to it. and when he does, he gets closer to you.
you don't know if it's intentional or it's just because of the way he's swaying. but nonetheless, you don't want to know.
“they’re really…” you trail off, hesitating before continuing. “onto this matchmaker thingy, aren’t they?”
and an awkward laugh escapes with a choked breath when you finally say it. yuta laughs alongside you, although the only difference is that he’s laughing as if he’s heard the lamest joke ever.
it’s not that hard to realize that yuta’s not laughing whole-heartedly. because when you look up to see his expression, he’s not beaming the wide smile that you’re used to.
“yeah… really into it.” there’s an emphasis on the second word that you don’t miss.
and now, you wonder why he’s so awkward with it.
the walk was agonizing to you. and when you finally reach the ice cream shop, you feel the lump in your throat undoing in relief.
he enters the shop and looks over the array of displayed flavors. he points to one flavor specifically, “you should get this one. it’s really good.” he recommends.
your eyes follow where his finger is pointing, nodding when you find the name and appearance satisfactory. “i’ll get that, thank you.”
yuta’s lips tug upwards into a smile at this, opening the freezer to take two—one for you and for him.
but when you see how he’s about to take two of the same flavor you stop him. “get this one,” your hand clasps around a different flavored ice cream. “totally recommend this. balanced stuff, right here.”
yuta raises his eyebrows and looks the product in your hand when you raise it up to show him. it doesn’t take long before he’s chuckling, “alright.” he says in between laughter.
you two ended up eating ice cream of the flavors that you recommended to each other. perched on the bench outside, you both nod enthusiastically, letting the foreign flavor melt on your tongue like gold.
satisfaction builds up when the heat is finally replaced with the cold goodness of the ice cream that tastes a bit better because you’re having it with yuta. not to mention, he paid for it. and, it’s apparently his favorite flavor.
“let’s go back?” he asks you, tossing out the trash for the both of you.
you raise a hand, “wait for a minute, i want to buy them something too.”
it’s not always your day off from jujutsu-related things so when you do have them, you want to spend it in the best way possible—and that being cleaning your room.
what started off a mere teasing and you didn’t to think much of, became somewhat somehow a routine.
spotting yuta by the end of the hallway as you’re on your way back to your dorm room after tossing out your trash, you wave a hello.
“[name],” he smiles, waving an equally enthusiastic hello back. “have you eaten?”
there it is again. smooth and casual. yuta asking you if you’ve eaten for the day.
you’ve grown used to it—yuta asking you if you’ve had your share of the day’s meal. but you can never understand why he does it. consistently, too. he never misses a day, never goes by without asking you. whether it’d be in personal, or on your social media connected accounts.
you shake your head, dusting off dirt from your hands. “i’ve been cleaning since i woke up so… yeah, nope.”
and as much as you wanted to clean up some more, yuta’s makes that so hard to do.
“let’s go out? my treat.” because he will always, always, ask you out to eat when he receives a no answer from you to his practiced question. “i know a restaurant that just opened by the block.”
you look around for a second, wondering if you’ll give in or just stay cooped up in your room the whole day cleaning up things that will never seem clean to you.
sighing, you decide to go for the former. you nod your head, “give me time to get ready, please.”
yuta smiles at this, “see you by the gate in 20.”
you enter back into your dorm room and you’re met with neatness. sighing and slumping yourself onto the sheets of your mattress before realizing an incredible dilemma.
clothes.
you immediately shoot up from your bed and run to your closet, quickly rummaging through folded and hanged clothes. but to no avail, you slump yourself onto the floor and against the side of your bed.
maybe this isn’t a big deal at all. maybe your usual clothes that you wear whenever you’re with friends will do. because, in hindsight, yuta is your best friend.
but your mind can’t decide. all of the sudden, everything looks so out of place. one set of clothes feel too home-y and the next feels too over the top.
everything feels so wrong now that you have this small feeling inside of you that feels the need to impress yuta in your own way.
not that you’ll ever admit that.
20 minutes and now you find yourself face to face with yuta by the gates of the campus. he wore nothing too flashy, just casual and just right for this experience one may call a date.
and you on the other hand—
“nice outfit. you look really pretty.”
and the compliment just slides out of his lips like it’s nothing. as if he’d just thrown your dilemma right under the bus because it felt so easy, too easy, to compliment you that it felt like you didn’t need to go through all that trouble to coax that one statement from him.
your cheeks betray you. they grow red and you can feel blood rushing up to your cheeks and ears.
you hide behind a handkerchief in the guise of a cough. looking away before replying with a timid and shy, “you don’t look bad yourself too.”
you two began walking to where the restaurant was located right down the block. the walk was silent, he did throw some random facts here and there to not make it obviously awkward and you appreciate his efforts.
finally sat onto the soft velvet cushions of the restaurant and opposite to each other, quite literally facing each other as if on a date.
he hands you the other menu while he skims his own.
“which one you want?”
now this is where your indecisiveness comes to ruin the day. your lips agape, hesitating whether to speak words that you will probably regret because everything seems so good right now.
yuta notices the reluctance in your shoulders and he lets out a low chuckle, “get this one.” he recommends something and you let out a sigh of relief. nodding your head and going with whatever he just recommended.
menus are taken back when your order has been placed so now it’s just you, unoccupied, and a seemingly enthusiastic yuta in front of you.
you thought of what to say for a short time before remembering a certain encounter.
“hey,” you called out to him and he hums. “you know, last time someone came up to me.” you continued, tone slowly becoming less and less awkward and now leaning more into comfort.
yuta nods his head in anticipation, “yeah?”
“they asked me who i was with, then i said your name because you, yeah, we were together at that time.” you shrugged, “they asked me for your socials—i think they’ve taken a liking to you.”
he laughs at your final statement. a whole-hearted at that one, as if he found yours words the most hilarious thing on the planet.
“so that’s why i had one friend request the other day.”
you nod your head, trailing off a long “yeah…” before apologizing, “sorry i gave them your socials without asking.”
he shakes it off saying it’s not big deal.
“but really, yuta,” hearing his name has caught his attention and he’s now back to intently listening to you. “what’s your type? like relationship-wise. because that girl… seemed to be really into you.”
yuta thinks for a while. and you feel quite relieved that he doesn’t find the question weird at all.
as if a bulb lit up on his head when he perks up the moment he’s done thinking. “i really like it when people go along with my plans—even the most spontaneous of them.” he looks at you, deeply at that.
and for a second, you feel like drowning into his stare. it’s intense, as if he’s begging that you get the message.
but you don’t because you’re too hard on yourself to even believe in that sort of thing. to assume.
you nod your head in strong agreement. “yeah, well, that sure is a must…”
but there’s a lingering thought in you that you refuse to acknowledge. it gets the same treatment as you give to your own feelings—denial.
you thank the restaurant when the food arrives just in time before you drown even further into your thoughts as they come unsolicited together with yuta’s intense stare.
you thank the waiter that delivered your food and you accept the utensils that yuta hands you.
a few bites into the meal, he gets this one question in his head that he so wanted you to answer.
“just a quick question—” he says mid-chewing, swallowing it before speaking again, “be honest, what was your first impression of me?” your utensils freeze in place when he asks that but before he could catch you in another staring contest again, you dig into your meal.
the question is unexpected to you but you think anyway.
but vulnerability creeps in, hesitating whether you let him in one of your most treasured secrets. you look up at him and he’s anticipating your answer, eyes staring back, hoping he’ll get some serious answer to quench his curiosity.
“i wanted to get close to you when we first met.” you reveal, “you were like this cowardly boy who doesn’t have any clue about the world i grew up in and i because of that… i kind of wanted to protect you.”
the warmth is evident with the way that yuta’s eyes widen ever so subtly. expression reflecting the surprise he’s feeling within. it’s all mixed up—fuzziness, fluster, and joy. all of his feelings are jumbled into one big ball and he’s unsure if he can take it still.
you continue, deciding to just tell him, “but ever since you came back from africa…” you hesitate again, “you changed a lot and i don’t think you need my protection anymore.” swiftly redirecting the mood with a laugh and humorous words.
yuta laughs along, his chest vibrating with every meaningful laughter that exits his lips. “then, i should be the one protecting you now, yeah?”
but you don’t say anything. you just roll your eyes, shrugging it off and treating it like one of his jokes. but a part of you whispers desires that you want him to mean it.
the next day is an equally laid-back day. having been finished with your lessons and training earlier than usual, the entire group decides that it’s the best time to watch a show at yuji’s small dorm room.
it started with nobara crashing yuji’s room, with fushiguro hanging on by a thread with nobara’s tight grip on him as she drags him along to her shenanigans. then it’s followed by panda and toge who just, on accident, walks by yuji’s room and sees the television turned on with a movie running its intro.
maki doesn’t follow much later, she ends up inside the oddly crowded room of yuji after looking for panda with you and yuta following behind her.
and that’s how it ended up being a get together inside of yuji’s cramped room.
you sit beside yuta as always—it’s not even intentional, it’s instinct at this point. perhaps, yuta has wired the routine into you.
he’s a bit too close to you. both of you sat behind everyone else, and while their occupied with the movie, you are too busy becoming one with your thoughts.
but the usually organized array of thoughts that you have are now scrambled into pieces when it’s disturbed by yuta placing his head on your shoulder. you let him do so, finding the act normal as he usually does it on a daily basis whenever he can.
and you just never really called him out for it. justifying it inside your head as some sort of best friendly act.
you don’t know when it started though. the fact that you started seeing him as someone who wouldn’t do this with the intention of being your best friend. you don’t recall having an exact date when you began wanting for more.
but you’ve confirmed it all during that one date. when his words alone have smashed through the boundary between your feelings and reality.
you realized that you may have been dragging it for too long now that if you do it for longer, you’ll end up being more confused.
because, what is there to be confused about? when yuta’s actions and words say everything.
they have always done so. you just never had the heart to acknowledge them in fear of losing whatever best friend shit you have going on with him.
but you want him more than you want your peace of mind. because there’s this lit up hope in you telling that he’s going to bring nothing but clarity to you.
when everyone else was too indulged in the movie, you whispered to him in a way that only you two will be able to hear.
“when did you start seeing me as more than a friend, yuta?”
he doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t make any movements to startle the calmness in this. instead, he replies with certainty. “from the very moment you first spoke to me.”
silence ensues in between you two and you lay your head on top of his. letting it all sink in.
but something is missing. you’d hate to disrupt the sweet ambiance of your small moment but you have this strange attachment with your belonging. “i think i left my phone in my room, i’ll get it real quick.” you shoot him an apology before excusing yourself.
when the door closes, yuta feels something cold make contact with his hand and when he looks down, he finds your phone there. settled behind to where you were sitting.
he sighs before excusing himself too to catch up and give it to you.
he knocks on your door and you let him in. “it was just behind you.” he hands you the phone and you sigh in relief, “thank goodness. i couldn’t find it anywhere here so i got nervous for a sec.”
he chuckles. but that’s all because it doesn’t take long before awkwardness wraps around you two again. standing in the middle of your room, face to face with each other and no word is spoken.
“look, i need to tell you—”
your words are cut off before you can even finish when he leans in suddenly. he’s sure, and the way that he kisses you so softly is evidence of that certainty. you don’t do anything to tell him to get off, you don’t effort much to go against the kiss.
instead, you mould your lips with him as well. your hands wrapping themselves around his bicep as his hand finds settlement in your waist.
he leans back an inch away before locking lips with you again. your hands gripping tightly as you try to keep up with the desperation that you feel when he’s hungrily chasing after you.
you feel yourself slowly being backed up against the edge of your bed. his hold against your waist is secure so when you fall flat onto your mattress, it doesn’t hurt. your hands move to clutch and card through his hair, lips never leaving one another.
his thumb draw circles on your waist and you feel like going crazy. you let your hands fall onto his shoulders, pulling him closer as his tongue finds entrance into your mouth. swirling against one another, saliva mixing as you reach peak intimacy with just a kiss.
you both finally let go of each other when air becomes a need. you stare at each other for a few moments before yuta decides to speak first.
“let’s go out.”
is the first thing he says and you can’t find an ounce of sanity in you to handle that kind of directness. your mind is in a haze but there’s sureness when you nod your head.
“i like you. yeah.”
with your swollen lips beaming brightly, proud that you’ve finally let your feelings out after denying them to yourself for a year.
he catches your lips again for yet another makeout session. but when he feels your hands tugging against his shirt, as if asking him to take them off, he stops.
he leans back and stares at you with hesitant eyes. you tilt your head to the side, wondering if you’ve done something wrong. “why? it’s all right.” you give assurance but yuta doesn’t give in.
“i’ll take a rain check for now, [name]. i don’t think i’ll be able to stop.”
thats a wrap, the idea was kind of repetitive lol i tried
synopsis : demanding that the fire lord marries, fire lord zuko finds himself in front of an officiant with a rather daring lady beside him and with a marriage to consummate
content: 18+, smut—fingering, virgin reader, unprotected, oral, fluff, body image, a lot of plot
word count: 10.8k
note: this is an edited version ! the first one i posted was word vomit lol
The wind is cold tonight—the way it tickled your exposed arm while you stand by the railing of the ship felt as though sharp needles were piercing right through your flesh.
You stare in the near distance, where the palace stood tall and your eyes fixated upon the highly-regarded regalia of the Fire Nation that was embroidered on a flag waving with the wind's current. Truly, it was a sight worth the pride. Pride. The sole feeling that you should be overwhelmed with right now. But no—having been told that you've been chosen to marry the well-off lord of the Fire Nation makes pride a tad bit difficult to feel.
The wind carries its speed and you clutch onto your shawl to hide yourself from the freezing breeze of the Fire Nation’s seas.
"Come inside," a voice says from behind you and need not turn to check who it is. "You’ll freeze out here, [Name]." She calls out and you finally pivot on your heel to face her. A frown rested itself on your lips, eyes glimmering in the sun’s crimson-orange beacon.
Her eyes widened in shock. Your eyes held tears in them. And she can't quite point out why. Are they tears of joy? Melancholy? What is it that you’re feeling right now—she finds herself begging that you tell her so.
"[Name], why do you weep?" She instinctively rushes to your side, holds you by your arm as if she’s steadying rocky tides. You shake your head, leaning away out of habit when she gets close enough—such vulnerability isn’t something that you’re all too willing to show for now. She notices your hesitation and backs away out of respect.
"Ling." You call out her name and she hums in response. Her tone is higher than usual, laced with worry that you catch because, after all, you know her far too well not to. "Thank you."
It is selfish. You are selfish to ask her for something this great.
The day you received the letter that you've been summoned to the capital of the Fire Nation to discuss matters with regards to their Fire Lord’s betrothal affairs, it felt as though your world broke into million little pieces of self-conflict. Every single shard is a fragment of what could be the outcome of your decision from there on.
Your occasional inner turmoil had this little voice that crawled inside your head a little too easily sometimes. You hold against the letter, tightly gripping that it creases the parchment while you wonder what would be best to do—to go and be tethered to a stranger and hope that cupid does his job or stay where you feel utterly restricted and taken for granted?
But as time went by, you began looking at it in a new light. Perhaps, it was some sort of an opportunity. Is hope merely wishful thinking for someone like you?
Can it be a chance for freedom?
But guilt crawls back into you. You considered rejecting it at first, you can’t possibly live somewhere unfamiliar. Moreover, it’s hard to leave a place where you’ve built yourself from the bottom. Because even though the workplace was rather dysfunctional and unhealthy, you did something right—you made a friend, an ally, someone who will forever choose to run with you.
Ling. The very one who taught you the true, even secret, ways on what it truly means to be a courtesan. You’ve spent a good amount of years together and there lies an undeniable bond between you two.
Testimony of this bond is how you’ve written back a correspondence to the Fire Nation a few weeks after so. It was a favor, you’ve asked the dear Fire Nation for a favor—a condition, even. Accepting the proposal shall mean that you will have Ling as your appointed lady-in-waiting. Marrying into the imperial family means that you will be tied to royal customs that require ladies of rulers to have a loyal assistant by their side, and to you, that position fits no one else better than Ling.
"Why are you suddenly thanking me?" Ling catches you out of your trance, a slight smile on her lips when her dainty arms come around to wrap themselves around your figure. And as if the cold breeze of the sea was never there, you’re now enveloped in this comforting gentleness. It’s soft, and you’d rather stay this way.
"If not thank you," you start, "then I need to say sorry... for dragging you into whatever mess is about to happen. But I need you, Ling."
Unbeknownst to you, not once did Ling ever see you as selfish for making such a decision. Not even while she opens a message from the Fire Nation asking that she become a staff at the Imperial Court of the Fire Lord as his Queen’s lady-in-waiting.
"Do not ever apologize." She whispers, all while hoping that you do not see how her eyes glisten with unfallen tears.
You both jerk when the ship comes to a halt. Startled when it crashes a bit when its bottom hits the rocky shore. Now, as close as ever, stands the Imperial Palace.
Your new home.
"It is an honor to welcome you firsthand to the Fire Nation, my Lady."
My Lady, he calls. It sounds unreal and you wouldn’t even dare assume it’s you who he is pertaining to unless Ling nudges you from behind.
He reaches an arm out, palm spread out as some form of chivalry. You walk off of the ship with his help, you feel an awkward squeeze from him and you can’t help but retract your hand as soon as you feel the concrete of the dock beneath your heels. You realize your hastiness and so as an attempt to regain back the morale you feel as though you’ve lost for abruptly retracting your hand, you tilt your head to the side. “Thank you.”
You stand back up straight, hands instinctively patting down your clothes before you finally look up to take your time and observe the man before you. His clothes are in the hue of red and orange, the Fire Nation colors. You realize it though, the fact that he’s of high status, when you notice the layers beneath his robes.
And now his face. You catch it—that unkind gaze you’d always know. His eyes slanted much like slits, pupils looking down on you. Was it his height? Or the way that he’s boldly perched in front of you that you feel small. Really small. And so it begins—that feeling that creeps inside of you telling you that you do not belong here.
You shake the thoughts off of your head, letting the devil inside your mind wander away before it corrupts your security further. You look around, hoping to get one close on who this man is so that you won’t make a fool of yourself. “I’m sorry that I have to ask but, you are…?” You bite back your shame when you ask.
"I am The Grand Chamberlain, my Lady. I oversee logistics, staff, and resources of the Fire Lord’s Court. Of course, I work directly under him." He introduces himself and as expected, he is a man of high-status, the imperial steward. "I am the person you speak with the letters as well, my lady." He shoots you a close-eyed smile before peeking behind you where Ling stood with a closed off body language.
Oh, so he's the man who approved of Ling’s employment.
"Now, we shouldn't be wasting time, my Lady. You need to get ready."
Ah yes, the day you land on the Fire Nation territory is the day you become His Lordship’s wife. Ergo, it's also the day of your wedding.
Beside the road waited a fancy palanquin, the Fire Nation’s mode of transporation—well, for most nobles that is. You sat beside Ling and in front of you with the Grand Chamberlain. The vehicle starts and your stomach whirls, your clothes begin to feel tighter and it’s suffocating all of the sudden. You felt as though anytime now you’re going to jump out into the road to swim your way back where it all started.
The ride to the Palace was long and tedious, the unsettling feeling dared not to leave you until you’re with the sight of the Fire Lord’s Palace. True perfection, indeed. It’s been crafted with care, precision and passion all together. There is an explicit perfection with the architecture that you’d know, just by looking at it—and to think you are no expert—that whoever crafted the Palace was in love with their work.
"This way, my Lady." The grand chamberlain leads you both to your private chambers.
Your feet halt on its own when you’re met with yet again a picturesque composition. It starts with the marbled door, and ends with the furnished wall bearing the colors of orange and red much like the view in the Fire Nation’s west when the sun begins to set. Everything from colors down to the furniture matches each one like a puzzle piece.
The moment you reach your private quarters, you’re stunned with the feeling of unbelongingness. It’s spacious. And to think that you’ll be calling something this grand as your own just felt wrong.
“The Fire Lord is currently occupied with his own preparations.” The Grand Chamberlain stands by the doorstep. “Our customs here tell us that the bride and groom must not see each other until the hour of their wedding, so I apologize if the Fire Lord cannot extend his greetings until then.”
It’s unfamiliar. And Wrong. But somehow, you feel drawn. Much like a moth to a flame. A thrill that tells you that this may be worth every sacrifice—the long wait, and the impulsive decisions.
The Grand Chamberlain points towards your bed. There lays, in perfect array, your ceremonial attire for the wedding. “Your wedding preparations are set there for your convenience, my Lady. The one assisting you shall be your lady-in-waiting. But if there should be any questions, I will be nearby tending to the staff.” He tilts his head to an angle before leaving you and Ling in this room that is rather generous in size.
The door creaks closed and there’s a loud ting when the lock secures. You finally sigh out the breath you’ve been holding in since you arrived.
"Ling!” You yell out with widened eyes, you two meet eyes when she looks over at you. “This is… crazy!”
Behind closed doors, in careful solitude where you are alone with the person you trusted the most, you are an entirely different person.
You breathe in, “I am about to marry the Fire Lord and inside this big room that is a lot bigger than the courtesans’ lobby back at home and… and…”
Then it hit you. The harsh slap of reality making its way to make you feel like a fool. Although this palace resembled a house a lot, the uneasy feeling of being nowhere near a place you feel most comforted in never ceased to leave you alone. It replays in your head—the laughter of your fellow courtesans when one customer drunkenly confesses to you. Your chest tightens, the laughter fades away and the only thing that envelopes your hearing is the ringing from the deafening silence.
"Enough crying over spilled milk, my Lady. We will get used to this.” She attempts to console you, “I know it won’t be easy but we need to make it happen.” Ling shoots a smile at you.
“Now, now… Shall we get you ready for your big moment, my Lady?”
You roll your eyes at her, “my Lady? All set for the role, huh.” You tease, a playful smile playing on your lips when she nudges you. There’s a brief silence, before you two finally broke out laughing. The sound of your giggles resonating across the room but never daring to leave the privacy of your chambers.
On the edge of the bed rested the ensemble of layers that you are to wear the ceremonious event they call a wedding. A silk mantle draped below a few other layers that glowed the same hues of cinnabar, scarlet, and vermillion. The outer robe had the insignia of the nation embroidered. You stare at the regal attire before you, hands fiddling with hesitation as if these fabrics are so fragile that even the smallest of graze from your fingernails would taint them. It got you thinking—are you really worthy enough to behold yourself in such an imperial and sophisticated image?
In the blink of an eye, you’re veiled with the seemingly endless layers of wedding apparel. Ling’s fingers expertly tying and cinching everything until it’s done. When it is, you feel the weight to it. You feel the weight of the title, the responsibility, and your own decisions.
“How is it?”
Your eyes gaze at your reflection in the mirror. Would it be wrong to think that you do not see yourself at all?
Ling notices the obvious dismay in your expression. She frowns before caressing your arms bedazzled with Fire Nation jewelry. “It takes a while, [Name].”
“We should get your hair ready too.” Ling beckons you to come closer to the vanity table.
Gold accessories all lined up ready to call your skin their home. All that you can do is hope that they don’t sting with the feeling of unfamiliarity because they all look so grand and you’d hate to feel sick while wearing these luxurious heirlooms.
Sitting on the stool and in front of you is yet another mirror. Your hair is now carefully encased in a beautiful hairdo. You’re thankful for Ling, really. But your lips quiver with reluctance when she slips a golden hairpin in.
Should the person in front of you look like the Fire Lady that you are about to become? Because no matter how hard you try to make it seem as though she is, she doesn’t look like it.
And with a few more embellishments here and there, you’re finally done. And in the blink of an eye—
There’s a tall figure of a man that stares back at you across the hall. You can’t see his face clearly with the veil and the distance but you know—he’s a leader. Authority wraps around him like it’s in his nature. Your hand shakes and you taste metal on your tongue, you’re intimidated. More so because it’s the man you’re about to marry.
Your sharp heels clank within the silence of the spacious hall whose weight is held by the tall pillars you pass by with every step. Your eyes situated on the man who waited by the other end of the aisle. He, who is adorned in his wedding attire, and a crown resting on his head. Now that you’re a tad bit closer, you reckon he’s rather ravishing.
You notice he’s staring back at you. Pupils assess everything and you reciprocate by doing the same. This much observation should be natural because you are meeting your betrothed on your wedding day. First time meeting and you’re already going to be tethered to him like the wife that you will become in a matter of minutes.
You try your best to stand tall beside him, but your trembling hands betray you. It’s obvious with the bouquet of roses that you’re holding. The officiant in front of you two clears his throat, indicating that he’s about to speak. Oh, this is bad—you are one second away from becoming a runaway bride.
But you feel warmth. There’s a certain coldness that exudes from his demeanor but beneath it all is comforting warmth. The officiant instructs that you two face each other and it forces you both to close proximity. Finally, you look up. There it is—gentleness behind calloused eyes. You can’t help but notice his scar, and the first thing you wonder is how he got it. But the question comes crashing back to the tides when you realize how beautiful he is.
Perhaps, it’s merely because you don’t see neat-looking men like him back at home often. Or, he’s just that beautiful.
Truly, it was as if in the blink of an eye.
“Do you, Fire Lord Zuko, take this woman to be your wedded wife, to be your equal, to kindle a shared fire that shall serve as a beacon to this nation, and to navigate trials side by side?”
Your breath hitches.
"Yes, I do."
You finally get a piece of what he sounds like. You’re caught off guard when he, Fire Lord Zuko, actually sounds a lot softer in contrast to the authoritative position he holds.
The officiant nods his head and turns to you. All of the sudden, you feel your throat closing in.
"Do you, Lady [Name], take this man to be your wedded husband, to be your equal, to kindle a shared fire that shall serve as a beacon to this nation, and to navigate trials side by side?"
The hall quiets down and without so much warning, your words leave you. Isn’t this all too sudden? Should you have not left after all? Who is this man in front of you anyway? You look around, searching for one sort of assurance but your vision is blinded when you realize every one is donned in their own formal attire, watching the wedding of their leader unfold.
And alas, you're speechless.
But you fall out of your trance when a tender fire lights up on your fingertips. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
"I... do."
It sounds hesitant but it’s all that you can muster albeit the eyes that carefully watched you from the audience.
You peek beside you, hoping to get a glimpse of the man who just lit a fire in you. To the man who subtly touched your hands to catch you back to reality where you two are—
"Then i shall pronounce you as husband and wife."
You meet eyes with him for a second before everything around you goes loud. It’s deafening but it’s a celebration. After all, their Nation has just acquired its very own Fire Lady—you. Their leader has finally found an equal. One to make his cold days a tad bit warmer, and his hot days bearable.
"You may now kiss the bride, my Lord."
But the celebratory screams all blur in your ears when Zuko finally turns to the side. Your eyes having nowhere to gaze at but to the eyes that stared down at you with a gentle glow.
And your body freezes. Should you really kiss? Even if this is all one big scam? A kiss for this façade of a marriage?
You concluded your inner conflict with a chuckle—he’s probably practical and won’t do it. But your assumptions betray you when you see how he’s still staring back at you unmoving, but determined. There’s subtlety with the way that he’s asking for permission and you don’t miss it. Those amber eyes that you’ve been staring into ever since you set foot in this ceremonious hall are now requesting that you share a kiss with him.
Your body moves on its own, leaning in a tad bit into him. He takes it as an indirect answer to his plea and he does the same.
You shut your eyes close and the next thing you feel is the soft warmth of his lips against your own. You relish in the way a kiss feels like—soft, unguarded, and intimate. You find it quite delightful—sharing a kiss, that is. After all, this is your first kiss. The first lips, and only lips, to touch yours are his—your husband by law. His hands, too, are the first to ever touch your fingertips with adamant intentions to make you his wife, as well as the first eyes to stare at you with longing heat.
And you begin to wonder how come? How come he makes it feel so easy?
Why does he make it so easy for you?
When the wedding ceremony finally comes to an end, you are left to roam the hallway leading to your shared room alongside Zuko. There’s a quiet hesitation, he walks with pride yet he’s indecisive whether to hold your hand or not.
The walk to the room is quiet. As if there’s a gap between you two that is yet to be bridged. He walks a few steps before you, leading you to wherever he has been resting all his life. You hope you’re not intruding when you’re introduced to the room he’s found comfort in ever since. He stops at the room farthest from the wandering eyes of the open halls.
And as expected, the room was clad in all sorts of decoration. Furniture spread across all corners of this seemingly boundless area. There’s a nervous breath that catches itself on your throat. Can you really find comfort in a room that to your untrained eyes seem so limitless? Moreover, alongside a rather enticing Fire Lord you now call your husband who had just stolen your first kiss?
On the clothes rack near the window hang comfortable clothes. The statement color of red and oranges never ceases to remind you where you are now.
You hear a clank behind you, your eyes turning out of habit to see if someone had trespassed your private boundaries. But you’re momentarily speechless when you see Zuko ridding himself of the suffocating accessories. It is no longer your own private chambers but his as well.
Zuko notices you staring and shoots back a raised eyebrow. He takes in your appearance, observes how your shoulders slump, probably due to the weight of the ceremonial robes. “You can change here. I’ll call for your lady-in-waiting to assist you.” He grabs his own set of clothes before leaving the room.
Those are the only words he spares you an hour after the wedding has been legalized. Retiring his husbandly duties for the responsibilities that call for the Fire Lord.
When you’re free from the tightness of the stifling ceremony apparel, you feel the wind tickle your skin. The thin night gown barely does its job in keeping you warm against the cold breeze of the night sky. Surely it is the breeze and not the fact that your new husband, who emits warmth like it’s natural to him, is absent on your first night together.
You lay back against the mattress, slightly bouncing on it to test the comfort. There’s a smile on your lips when you realize—it’s nothing like the hard, wooden bed that you’re used to sleeping on back at home.
You stare back up the ceiling. Fingers fiddling when it finally sinks in. The responsibility you hold is immense and it’s heavy. You can’t help but worry, will you be able to uphold your position as Fire Lord alongside a cold-hearted fire bender who renders all your cold feet warmer than ever?
You woke up to an empty bed. Albeit the harsh rays of the sun come blaring in to corrupt your vision when you open your eyes, there is lingering coldness when you realize you slept alone. Almost as if the Fire Lord never came by to rest. But you see the loose silk on the other side of the bed, joustled and disturbed. Perhaps His Lordship did sleep beside you after all.
But your daydream gets cut short when you realize. You have duties to tend to as well. You call for the Grand Chamberlain, asking him for instructions since you’re still new to the customs and the responsibility—coming in on such short notice does that to a woman. But you do your duties with precision, you’ve stunned the Grand Chamberlain with your capabilities, had him thinking that you shouldn’t have been slacking off as a courtesan after all.
But it became a cycle. Duty. Responsibility. Showing up for the people when it matters. It went on for days and it sank in you that you haven’t once spoken in a real conversation yet with your husband. All that you do is inform one another of politics.
To think that this may be how your married life is going to go is far from what your wishful thinking had got you expecting.
But unbeknownst to you, Zuko is under an entirely different impression. To him, you were quiet. And that silence itself is what had the Fire Lord scared to his wits end. You had him intimidated! A fraction of him feels shy—you’re too beautiful when you’re face to face with him. Even more so while you’re clad in your Fire Lady apparel that matches his Fire Lord one. There would be occasional glances, but Zuko would dare not to act upon it.
But despite all the challenges he goes through—one being your unbearable silence—he is, at the end of the day, a husband who is determined to know more about his dearest wife.
"Would you like to have tea with me?” A voice asks, the dim hallway making everything far more dramatic than it should be. Along the end of the hall are a few guards stationed but you reckon they’re too far to even hear the conversation.
Your breath hitches. What could have brought this up? Zuko suddenly initiates a conversation with you, inviting you to tea with him out of all things, too.
You look around for a second, as it’s the only response your body can make out. The scarlet walls seem to be caving in, making the impression that it’s about to eat you alive. You finally release the breath you didn’t know you were even holding and everything returns to normal. “I do not see why not, my Lord.”
You two settled for the balcony in your shared chamber. The wind caresses you both like a mother cradling her newborn child—gentle and easing. After having a servant deliver you a specially brewed tea, you were now finally alone in the quiet solitude of the palace. In front of you is the overview of the Fire Nation’s entirety.
“Your tea here, my Lord, is delicious.” Your lips smack with the sweetness and bitterness combining but you can’t help but frown when the unfamiliar taste is introduced to your taste buds.
Seated opposite to you, Zuko nods his head, “it’s Fire Nation specialty. I am glad you like it.”
Your lips are agape, and your tea is long abandoned when you notice it. You like how Zuko speaks—there is evident confidence that lolls out of his words yet beneath it hides softness. Almost as if he’s scared of showing the vulnerability that he has so much of that it seeps out without even him knowing.
“I’ve heard from Chamberlain how competent you are in your duties. Considering you are new to this line of work, I must say you’ve impressed me.” The compliment leaves his tongue carelessly and it makes you freeze in your spot. But nonetheless, an appreciative smile plays on your lips.
Your work has been acknowledged. “Thank you, my Lord. It’s merely professionalism, I’ve learned it the hard way back in my home.” You add humor to your words, and Zuko hums at this before taking a sip of his own tea.
“You… have worked as a courtesan, am I right? What was that like?” And there it is. The circle you’ve held so tightly secured is now jeopardized by one single question. He asks and you don’t see through it; he has no ill intentions. They are merely words of a husband who wishes to know more about you.
You think for a bit, carefully choosing your words as to not intimidate him and his rather conservative way of living with the Imperial Crown. “It was… careful. Much like this work. Well, not exactly but it was still work. I met a lot of good people because of it and I guess that’s the part I am most grateful about.” You catch yourself before you start oversharing, afraid that you might scare him off by being overly talkative.
Zuko pays no mind to it. In fact, he’s intently listening. As if your words are the most interesting he’s heard of in all his years of living. “And one of them is you lady-in-waiting? Ling… was it? I’ve heard from Chamberlain, I had him approve of your request.”
Your eyes widen. So It was him after all—the one who approved of your favor.
You tilt your head back straight, a smile spread across your lips. “Well, I’ve got to thank you, my Lord. For approving my… rather selfish request.”
Zuko shakes his head, a low chuckle leaving his mouth as he leans back the chair in a lazy manner. “It’s just right. If anyone is selfish it should be me, right?”
Whatever that means, my Lord?
The words never leave your mouth, not because you were too much of a coward to ask but because duty calls for him yet again.
“I need to attend a meeting.” He speaks right away, leaving you no place to ask him about it. “I apologize if I have to leave you alone so soon again. I will call for the maid to clean this up.”
You shake your head, reaching out to hold his arm and your hold falters for a second, hesitation washing over you—are you allowed to do this much? “No need, my Lord. I shall finish my tea while watching the sunset. Only then shall I ask them to clean up. Thank you.”
Your hold against him feels warm. Albeit it being the only thing that Zuko has ever known, your touch is an unfamiliar blaze that he has begun feeling desperate to know more about. “I will leave you to it. I will… see you later.”
Zuko leaves the room and you’re now left to tend to yourself. The sunset is beautiful before you, the wind is warm and the ambiance is just right—exactly what you’ve been seeking all these years. The scenery washes your thoughts away and everything feels as though it’s falling into place.
The night sky envelopes the entirety of the Fire Nation. Hours have passed, the clock never stills and yet you’re still alone. This oddly far-reaching room has never felt this expansive before now that you’re seeking the presence of your husband. But cheers to the nights you’ve spent alone that you’ve grown used to the feeling.
You are hoping to sleep early to compensate for your overtime duties last night, so when Ling enters the room to tell you that your bath is ready, you comply almost immediately.
You slipped right into the bath with ease, its warmth encasing you making your inside tingle just right. You feel your muscles loosening and your shoulders dropping, the hot bath immediately relieving you from the stress that your responsibility brings you. The water sways you from left to right and you can’t help but lean against the edge of the tub, eyes closed and no longer wary of your surroundings.
You dared not to stay for long because the water began to gradually drop its temperature, and you’re not that much of a fan of cold, painful water. You disliked the feeling of your skin tightening.
You exit the tub and you see Ling by the doorway, waiting for you whilst holding a towel in her hands.
“My Lady.”
You frown in disapproval. The night has settled and everyone in the Court is most probably retired from their duties—you don’t feel like acting the Fire Lady role in front of her anymore. “Don’t do that, Ling. I don’t like it.”
She smiles at this, “you need to get used to it, [Name].” She finally drops the honorifics and that earns a satisfied smile from you.
The towel makes contact with your skin until you’re dry. She tends to you with expertise and when she tells you to open your arms out so she can drape the night gown around you, you oblige immediately. One thing about you is you’re good at doing what you’re told to do; a habit you developed while you were still a courtesan.
“As usual,” Ling starts, “your skin is flawless.” Your fingers wouldn’t be enough to count how many times you’ve heard that overused compliment.
From both women and men alike—they will always, always, say the same when they get the chance to finally rest their fingertips atop your skin. May they be customers, or your fellow courtesans, it’s always your skin.
You smile, “you can retire for the evening, Ling. I am sure you need plenty of rest.” You usher her to leave and rest but she insists on assisting you on your evening routine. But it’s a good thing, you’re fairly good with convincing others.
And yet again, you’re alone. The Palace is quiet enough that the only thing that’s keeping you sane is the sound of the clock on the wall that’s become so loud when the emptiness surfaces.
You sit on the stool in front of a vanity table, opening the drawer wherein inside rested a collection of your skin care regimen. Skin this flawless is ought to be maintained. Especially when it’s your one asset that got you through your courtesanship.
You take each one out, gentle fingertips tending to your skin with mastery. The products are soft and cold to the touch, but it’s nothing new. This is your definition of normal—this tedious routine.
But your tranquility gets cut short when a knock is heard from the door. You freeze in your spot, you almost drop whatever it is that you’re holding—scared that it might be someone out to get you. It is, after all, a new marriage. “Who is there?”
“It's me.”
His voice resonates against the door and there’s an air of comfort that he brings, making your heart race just a tad bit. “Come on in, my Lord.” You call back out, hoping to freely resume your ritual when he’s back inside but you don’t.
You notice the obvious exhaustion displayed across his features. It’s there and he’s tired—you deem it’s due to his rather never-ending duties as the Fire Nation’s number one in-charge.
When he enters, the first thing he searches for is not his night gown. But your eyes. Almost immediately, he catches you by the vanity and when your eyes meet, he dares not break it.
He watches, notices that you’re perched on his furniture, wearing a thin night gown—in his colors—of the same material you always wore to sleep. Your neck and clavicles are exposed and he doesn’t kiss the way your skin glows with the firelamp next to you. It’s uncanny—how can someone’s skin glow this radiantly? And then he realizes the products before you.
His lips are agape before moving closer, approaching you with careful steps—afraid that even just a fraction, you might lean away.
“Excuse me, my Lord. I have occupied your vanity for my routines. I shall be finished in a minute.” You resume your routine, patting down a translucent gel against your cheeks before smoothing it evenly across your face.
“No need to hurry, take your time.” He lets out a sigh whilst his fingers untangle the tie encasing his hair around the crown. He takes the accessories off and his dark hair falls without restriction—even a mere glimpse of it, one would know it’s finger-combing soft. He places the accessory on the vanity then approaches the bed to plop himself on the edge.
He unbuttons his outer robes, placing it carefully onto the mattress beside him. And using the vanity’s mirror, you can see how he’s hastily tending to himself as if the bed is calling him to rest. You feel conscious as he takes one layer after the other; you wonder, how far will he go?
You cleared your throat, catching his attention. “Are you perhaps… done for the evening, my Lord?” You ask, glancing at him through the mirror and he meets your gaze, catching you in for a conversation with eye-contact.
“Yes. I am.”
You nod your head before opting to finish up so that he can use the vanity sooner. But even though your gaze already averted to tend to your skincare regimen placed on the desk, Zuko’s lingering eyes did not falter. He watches carefully through the mirror, he takes in the sight of you touching your skin with familiarity. He notices the particularity—the delicacy of your fingertips against your skin.
His amber eyes trace down to your neck, glossy with the product, as well as your lips that are pink with whatever product you’re using. And Zuko can form only one thought: you are beautiful in his firelamp’s light.
“Is there a reason…” He stands up, and you hear his footsteps approaching, “on why you are so meticulous with this routine?” You’re thrown off guard with his question that you don’t notice the proximity. You feel a strand of your hair getting tugged and you realize he’s wrapping them around his finger and he’s watching as it smoothly slides off.
"Why bother?” He breathes out. “When you’re already so beautiful?” The words leave his lips carelessly and you question why he would dare voice out his thoughts.
The hand that combs through your strands leaves to caress the skin on your neck. He feels the product stick to his fingertips but he pays no mind to it. There’s desperation beneath, an unlit fire begging to catch sparks against his touch. His index finger runs across your clavicle until it reaches your throat, and your breath hitches. He’s got you in a chokehold.
“There is a reason,” you pause when you look up to the mirror only to see Zuko staring back at you. A dangerous flame hiding behind the faint glint in his eyes—half-lidded, and luminous with intentions. “My Lord.”
He leans down. Never stopping until his chin lays on your shoulder, he’s nuzzled against your nape with his eyes closed and he takes in your scent—fruity with the faint fragrance of cedarwood and orchids. He glances one last time at you through the mirror before he turns his head to face you. Your cheeks are blaring crimson, and you feel blood rushing when his breath fans over your cheeks and, in slightest bit, across your lips.
“Would you like to tell me?” He hums out before looking back at you through the mirror, eyes imitating desperation. “I would…” His arms come to wrap themselves around your torso and you feel that certain warmth again through your thin nightgown, “love to know more about you, my dearest wife.”
The mirror beholds a view—the reflection of Zuko embracing you from behind, his cheeks colored with the slightest hint of red and his lips turned upward in a satisfied grin. And there it is again: his eyes subtly asking for permission as if he’s too scared to ask verbally.
"There’s not much to know about me, my Lord.” Shakily, your hands come up to hesitantly hold the hands that rested on your stomach. As if you’re testing unstable water, your hands tremble ever so slightly when they land on his big ones. “But if you insist.”
And that’s the confirmation that Zuko has been waiting for. He understands that you know what you’re in for, and he’s satisfied with knowing that you’re willing to do so too.
With less hesitation now, Zuko’s lips make their way to your cheek. They are soft and scarred, as if he’s been biting through them during the countless hours he’s spent stressed and slumped against his desk. Or during the times he’s helplessly unaware of what to do after being passed on such a big responsibility at such a young age.
You merely watch him through the mirror. The hand that you held abruptly leaves for a second when his impatience—the overwhelming need to touch you everywhere—begins to exude. His big, calloused hands make their way to caress the skin on your forearm and finally to your waist and hips. You squirm with every touch, especially when he runs them up and down with a teasing motive.
He notices the contrast between his calloused, fighter hands and your flawless, unbellished skin. He laughs at this, “your routine seems to be paying off. Your skin is the softest I have ever touched.” He compliments, fingers never leaving to trace circles on your exposed thighs. While he does so, his lips does an entirely different thing—you’re tilting your head to the side as an attempt to help him get more access to your neck.
“I really hope they do. These products… they cost a fortune.” You share and he huffs.
You let out a sound when one hand makes its way a tad bit closer to your breasts—you are bare beneath the night gown so you feel every single touch closer than you’ve ever been touched.
“Then more reasons on why you should tell me why you do such a routine.” He mumbles against your neck, nipping and biting on it without a care in the world. You bite down on your lips when he stops beating around the bush and finally uses one hand to cup your tit. “Tell me.”
Your cheeks are flushed and you can’t seem to organize your thoughts the same way you would normally. His palm brush against your hardened nipples and you feel hot—in the head, in the neck, and most especially down there.
It is your first time. First time that you’ll ever be touched in this kind of way, with these kinds of intentions.
His hand fondles you, not in the way that would hurt you, but in a gentle kind of way. You shut your thighs close when his fingers begin to squeeze your erect nipples, the heat slowly becoming more and more unbearable. Then finally, he stops and sighs, tugging onto the fabric.
“Would you rather tell me in bed?” He asks, and it’s an embarrassing question on your end but he asks it bold enough to make you nod your head.
You lean your head against his and your hand falls to hold his hand. “You’re quite clingy, aren’t you, my Lord?” He merely shoots you a smile before sliding his arm underneath your knees and the other supporting your back.
He carries you across the room and when his legs hit the edge of the bed, he tosses you onto the mattress wherein you plop. You scoot over to the middle before letting Zuko hover above you. His hands on either side of your head while you stare back at him with an innocent gaze that makes Zuko question if he’s ready to taint such purity.
A wave of confidence crashes over you and your hands come around his neck, pulling him down and closer to you. “Mind dimming the lights, my Lord? My figure is rather unsightly.”
He backs away. An unapologetic look as he stares at you in disbelief, “don’t say that.” His voice drops an octave lower and you can’t help but smile as his attempt to assure you of something that has been instilled in you for too long that not even his words can change your mind.
A hand runs up and down your waist until it cups your breast again. You let out a whimper when his fingers pinched your aroused nipples. “This body I’m touching is unsightly, you say?” He leans down, amber eyes predatory while he lets his lips trace down your silk-covered chest area.
“I would tear down nations just to touch this soft skin, my love. And you dare call it unsightly?”
But for the sake of your comfort, he dims the lights, keeping only one firelamp open. “Forgive my selfishness but I would rather that I see your face. You are most beautiful to me.” He strokes your cheeks and you lean into it.
Just a few moments after so, you’ve begun frowning again. The very same moment when his fingers are expertly tracing down, calloused fingers making contact with your skin until the next thing you know is that your night gown is off your body.
In front of him is the entirety of the vulnerability. And, you’re frowning.
Now, having been left with nothing for Zuko has finally freed you of the silk night gown that restricted him from touching you directly. You have him to thank for dimming the lights, because then, he won’t be able to make out the shape of your actual figure. Your figure that lacks curves, your body that doesn’t compare to that one an actual courtesan’s.
However, soon enough your husband takes note of the somber expression you wore whilst you’re laid bare beneath him. His hand abruptly stops, mildly shaking for confusion—it stops memorizing your body under the impression that his dear wife is unhappy.
“Why is it that you frown, my love?” He reaches up a free hand, running his fingers over your lips. You hear him call you by an endearment and there is a quiet sense of home to it.
And that is precisely why it’s confusing.
You breathe out shakily. “Why are we doing this, my Lord?” Even if he calls you his love, you still aren’t bold enough to reciprocate that kind of action so you opt to call him by his title—the one that everyone calls him, and the one that he’s used to.
Zuko freezes entirely, leaning away before taking a good look at you. He hovers. “Because,” he starts, “we have a marriage to consummate, or do we not?”
He’s correct. Yet why? Why go all through the trouble of validating a marriage when it’s been sealed by law? Could you have truly enchanted the Fire Nation’s Lord?
Your hands that settled around his neck gently pull him down, creating an even closer proximity between you two. Your torsos touching and his breath fanning over your nose that you can smell the slight mint.
“Kiss me.”
You knew since the wedding that Zuko is a great kisser. It’s subtle but it’s there—that insatiable craving for a kiss from Zuko that has been going on for days.
And Zuko would be a fool to deny you. He obliges immediately, parting his lips before sinking down to become one with you. His kiss is soft, and his lips feel perfect against yours to the point that the only thing you’re capable of thinking is how easy it is to get addicted if this kind of intimacy was some sort of drug. He continues to mold your lips together, saliva mixing and you’re satisfied with this much, until his tongue begins seeking entrance to your mouth. As a woman unfamiliar with this kind of practice, your eyes widen when you feel his tongue intertwining with your own. You almost choke, having to experience such a weird feeling with no warning yet almost immediately it turns pleasurable—the way he would keep on chasing you every time you try to retract, as if he’s unwilling to let go.
He finally pulls away, his amber eyes gazing down to linger on your swollen lips and he swears he’s gone crazy—he doesn’t know what to do anymore, mind blank with the view of you beneath him with your cheeks flushed and lips agape gasping for air. You are so utterly beautiful that the only response his body can make out is to rest his head against the crevice of your neck.
“I have a question.” Your fingers run through his long strands. “Why me when you’ve been given the blessing to choose your own bride?” He doesn’t withdraw, instead, he moves even closer.
Pulling himself up so that he can run his body along your own, feeling every inch of your skin against his. He slowly sinks down, and painfully slowly too. The firelamp’s light no longer reaches him and the next thing you feel, without a warning, is his lips against the flesh underneath your breast.
In surprise, your eyes widen and your breath hitches. Then, a low whimper exiting your lips before you even realize and purse your lips tight enough to not let any sound get out.
“I’ve been watching you.” Then, his lips latch onto your nipple—tongue swirling along the circular boundary of your perked up buds. He flutters his eyelids up to peek at your expression. He sees you holding back, eyebrows creased in pure ecstasy.
He reckons that the pleasure might have blurred the sounds for you.
“I’ve been watching you.” He repeats, and this time you catch his words. “Huh?”
It comes out choked, a whimper and a moan combining with your words. He detaches from your sensitive buds, only to turn to the side to give the other one some love. He works hard—fondling you on one side and kissing you on the other.
“Ever since I visited your homeland as an envoy of the Fire Nation.” He confesses yet you don’t hear him. You’re still trapped in a hazy trance where all that you can feel is his tongue swirling around your sensitive buds and your body responds to this by trembling. You must be addicted.
You do hear his words but you’re not focused enough to register them. You’re oh too focused on the sensation of his tongue expertly licking and lapping across your skin until you’re certain you’re covered in his saliva.
Zuko notices your absent-mindedness and clicks you back to reality with an innocent kiss on your chin. “Listen for a while, my love. I am pouring my heart over here.” He chuckles whilst daring you again for yet another eye-contact.
You clear your throat before your body squirms, pushing yourself back against the head rest of the bed while you keep your elbows propped on the bed. “Go on.” You nod your head while your hand sweeps softly against his cheeks—a part of you actively seeking the compelling warmth he brings inevitably.
“Ever since I came to your homeland in the guise of a Fire Nation envoy, I have been watching you.” He reveals, a hand making its way to swipe away the hair that stuck on your forehead due to sweat.
“During the night banquet,” he starts but stops himself when he notices you tugging on his arm. He looks back up, meets with your eyes that are requesting he bares himself off the distracting layers he wore. It would be unfair, considering you are completely naked beneath him.
He nods his head, letting you undo the buttons in front before he yanks it off himself.
“You danced.” He continues. “I sat in the front row and saw how you danced for the delegates of other nations. How you danced for me.” The amber irises of his eyes hid a glint of desire and without hesitation, he dives back into you.
He kisses you on the lips again, all while you’re trying your best to get rid of his upper clothing. And when you do, your impatient hands waste no time to explore the entirety of his bare skin. Although unfamiliar to you—touching another man like this—it’s less intimidating, after all, he is your husband.
“And ever since then, I started looking for you.”
He confesses so casually as if it were the most obvious information on the planet. All while he’s unaware of the effect he has on you—how he’s got your heart racing and your blood coursing all throughout your body. However, it’s mostly to your cheeks and down there where you’ve kept your thighs closed all evening.
Zuko starts moving further down until his warmth becomes absent in your hands. You cope with the absence by opting to tug onto his hair. You squirm with a lewd sound exiting your lips when his lips ghost over your stomach and his hands firm against your hips. He takes his time before trailing his tongue down, leaving a line of saliva while he does so. He stops where you kept your thighs closed, he coaxes them open and sinks down to suck on the inner parts.
It’s normal that it feels painful, it is your first time after all. Moreover, the Fire Lord had his teeth digging deep into your flesh while his plump lips sucked on your skin. You bit on your lower lip, afraid that even the slightest of sound would startle him and he’d stop. You have no idea how to navigate this strange experience you’re partaking in for the first time and all that you can do is hope that the Fire Lord doesn’t change his mind when you slip and make a mistake.
Irresistibly, a quiet moan leaves your throat. His breath fans over your soaking pussy and your breath hitches, panicking when you’re overtaken by a foreign feeling so close to your untouched bud.
Zuko panics the same way when you sit up so abruptly. He straightens to seek any discomfort in your expression but instead, he sees confusion.
“Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you? Please, tell me.” He reaches out to hold your shoulders, eyes widened as if the thought if ever being responsible for your discomfort is a nightmare to him.
“I—I am sorry, I am really…” you shakily breathe out, "unused to this, my Lord.” You admit.
Zuko realizes the root of the problem and shoots you an assuring smile. “Please, relax, my love.” He consoles before sinking down to come face to face with your dripping pussy once more. He feels you relax under his touch before he sinks into your warmth.
You don’t have the words to describe it, but you’re sure he’s an expert. With the mere introduction of his tongue inside of you, he’s got you in an arch. Your eyes shut close with the overwhelming pleasure and your hands fisting the silk bedsheets beneath you, trying best to stabilize against the satisfying ache of his tongue swirling inside of you.
“M-My Lord,” you moan out, voice muffled when you turn your head to the side to bury yourself in the creases of the pillow in hope that you don’t let any more embarrassingly lewd sounds. But the way Zuko’s tongue enters inside you is impossible to ignore. Your lips open to let out a loud moan that is muffled by the pillows and unbeknownst to you, what you’re letting out is music to your husband's ears and the drive to his mission to satisfy you.
The stimulation becomes overwhelming to your senses when he reaches his hand down to circle his thumb around your clit.
You’re unsure if this is how it goes but you feel this tide slowly growing inside of you and it’s going to crash down very soon if Zuko continues. A few more strokes and kisses before you finally reach your peak—a loud moan exits your lips and you hope the walls to your chambers are thick enough to not let the guard stationed outside hear you climax.
Zuko retracts, hovering over you while his amber eyes are admiring his work—you’re body trembling and your hips jerking while cum spills out of you like a waterfall. Even like this, Zuko is convinced you belong in a museum.
You turn sideways, closing your legs while you tremble, still letting your orgasm end. But when it does, you feel an unsatisfied knot in your stomach.
He watches you come down your high, peeking to see your expression that you hid behind your forearm. He catches a glimpse of your tears streaming down your cheeks. Gently, he pulls your arm away and grabs your chin so that you’re facing him. “Are you alright?” He searches for signs of discomfort but when you nod he sighs in relief. “Good.”
He locks both of your wrists together in his hold, pinning them above your head while he ignites a small flame in his fingertips. He trails it down your figure, eyes glinting with desire as soon as he finally sees your body with his own two eyes.
His face is caught with the flame’s light too and you notice how his lips are glossy with your juices and his cheeks pink with lust. You can’t deny it, he truly is the most beautiful man you’ve laid your eyes on.
“Your skin is flawless.” He remarks.
Your scar-free skin doesn’t go unnoticed. He looks back at you, “you still haven’t told me the reason, beautiful.” He pinches the flesh in your waist, attempting to teasingly coax out the reason behind the particularity with your skin and all more secrets that you hold he’s ready to keep.
You sigh. “If you compare my figure to those of the other courtesan at the house,” you begin. “You’d realize that I don’t have the typical courtesan-standard figure.” Your eyes stare blankly at him, the mood suddenly becoming serious as you unfold your biggest secret before you. You try to look away but he seeks your eyes no matter what. The way you’re eyes old hate doesn’t go unnoticed by him—so full of hate for yourself because the only person that should have ever come this close to your vulnerability is Ling alone.
“Does that make you less of a courtesan?”
You feel something intrude from below. He slips a slender finger into your wetness, easily too. You whimper when it submerges fully but he ushers you to continue while he pumps the finger in and out at a slow, testing pace.
You shake your head. “But I didn’t have many—ah—clients to begin with.” You moan in between words, biting down on your lips in an attempt to keep your cool while he gains speed. “So to attract more customers…” You breathe out sharply, hips jerking with his thrusts, “ah—I had to use what I had. I took care of my skin… more than ah—nything.”
He fastens his pace, adding two more fingers while doing so. The knot slowly becomes tighter and you feel as though in a matter of seconds you’re going to break. You squirm, trying to ease the pleasure that’s coming over you but all that you can think about is how his fingers are so long that they are able to reach a deep part inside you, the part that puts you on the edge.
“F-Fuck, my lord—I'm a-ah close…”
“Customers?” He speaks, picking up his pace even more and you’re shocked—is this speed even possible? But Zuko is a fighter, and he uses that to his advantage, especially when it’s the matter of satisfying his dear wife. He watches your face contort with pleasure, a smug smile on his lips before leaning down to give your lonely lips a kiss. “Have you done this before with them?”
The tips of his fingers reach the farthest spot inside of you and you finally cave in. He hits your sweet spot repetitively and it gets you coming undone on his fingers. Cum oozing out of you, covering his fingers and instead of wiping it off on the sheets, your husband licks them off.
“No way.” You answer his question before he’s leaning down to kiss you again, making out with you for the nth time of the night.
“Why not? You are delectable.” He teases, referencing how sweet you—or your cum—tasted.
You look away with an embarrassed look on your face, eyebrows furrowed and a pink blush spreading across your cheeks. “That’s not how courtesans, my Lord.” You shake your head.
You feel something protruding in your pussy’s entrance and you bite down on your lips when you turn your head down only to see Zuko lining up his fully erected cock at your entrance. While he does so, he maintains eye contact, you nod your head when his eyes ask again then push yourself up to elevation with your elbows.
“Hm,” he hums out. “Then do share, my love. I would be glad to know more about what you used to do.”
His tip sinks out of view and into you, this elicits a whimper from you—how could you not when his tip is thicker than you anticipated. The girth and the pressure is overwhelming, and as an inexperienced wife, you’d need more than mere fingering and oral to ready yourself for such a big surprise. You bite against your lips until you’re certain they’ve bled, trying to fight against the pain in hopes that it turns to pleasure soon. Zuko groans, trying to push himself to be fully inside you but it’s not use—you’re still too tense, and he’s too impatient.
“My love,” he breathelessly calls out. “You are going to break my dick off. Please relax, it’s just me.”
You apologize then soon after the muscles in your pussy starts to loosen and Zuko finds himself slipping inside you with ease. Your dripping juices acting as the most effective lubricant. You watch how his entire length disappears, moulding inside of you and the unusual feeling of fullness turns your mind upside down. He presses down on the bulge he’s created on your stomach before beginning to thrust in and out.
“You’ve still got a story to tell, my love.” He reminds but all you can think of is the pleasure that you get from the sensation of having Zuko’s veiny dick push in and pull out of you at a quickened pace. Your tits are bouncing and Zuko finds it enticing that he can’t help but latch onto one of them, swirling his tongue around your aroused nipple making your mind go haywire with the overwhelming stimulation.
“A—ah a c-courtesan’s value is… ah—” you moan out loudly, words inconsistent with every whimper that he elicits out of you. “B—based off of her—ah fuck—pureness.” You groan when he picks his pace up even more. The sound of lewd skin slapping resonates across the spacious chamber along with the creaming of the bed. Everything is wet and all you can sense is the vile sound and smell of sex.
“Go on,” Zuko encourages, attaching a finger on your clit before slowing down and firmly wrapping a hand around your hips to make you meet his thrusts.
“Essentially, one’s… a—fuck ch-chastity…”
Zuko’s lips come to kiss you harshly, as if your words had triggered something inside of him. Little did know, he’s being swallowed by pride. Pride from realizing that he is your first. His lips chase you endlessly all while his dick is repetitively comes in contact with that one sweet spot inside of you again.
“Ah fuck—fuck… I’m so—so ah close, my lord.” You wrap your arms around him. “Because of that, I’ve never let a man touch my skin because it's my most valued asset that got me through life.” You whisper whilst you bury yourself in the crevice of his toned neck, voice muffled as tears start to stroll down your cheeks, the knot slowly becoming tighter and more desperate to untangle.
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not a courtesan anymore,” his thrusts quicken as if he’s chasing his own high too. You feel them getting harsher, rougher with the way his tip hits your good spot in the best way possible. “But my wife now.”
He repositions you, holding your legs above and placing them on his shoulders, giving him an even deeper access inside of you. Your mind is nothing but a foggy forest now and you’re free of any form of thought right now. All that you can feel is the way his dick is overwhelming your insides—his dick that is trembling, desperate to spur out his loud inside you.
“Because I’d never forgive myself for tainting such a skin with my marks if I weren’t your husband.”
Without a warning, the knot finally unravels and you’re left trembling underneath him again. You shut your eyes tightly when it begins to roll up, your legs slowly descending from his shoulders to settle on either side of his hips. There is white cum that drips out of your pussy—his and your own—while his dick warms inside of you still.
But it’s not just you who’s stimulated with orgasmic pleasure. He groans, calling out your name as he shoots his load deep into your womb and you feel the comforting warmth of his seed getting planted. You feel it, his dick spasming inside of you and you can’t help but clench around him. His head drops, sweat on his forehead while he hugs you.
“A—ah, my lord—”
“Zuko.”
“Please give me a chance, [Name].”
that was crazy i cant write smut & this is a new version; ive edited, revised and proof read this :)
