⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ your cocofawn / poet & sunfrosted dandelion girl, xxv
nsfw + occasional dark content, minors dni
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𑑛 “SKIN AFLAME, YOUR TOUCH REMINDS ME OF THE PAST” ﾉ MYDEI. HONKAI STAR RAIL
fem reader ﾉ words 5.4k ✘ spoilerless (vaguely happens before the in-game events) but many references to mydei’s lore. internal monologue on his views on relationships. overthinking king lol he’s more pliant and sentimental here. reader has an established background that is barely mentioned and not important (yet, unless i decide to write more parts cough cough). slow burn but also we’re past that stage. casual intimacy. mydei is lowkey in denial even though he’s eating you out. kissing. cuddling. oral and fingering — reader receiving. explicit, but this fic is not just pure smut (actually, why did i even bother adding it LOL) ﾉ if you see any mistakes, no you don’t, sorry, i can proofread only this much before giving up ✘ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
it took him so many years to finally touch you, perhaps twice more until he tells you what’s locked inside his heart. the whisper of the wind brings a new day, yet he remains in the past, seeing in new comrades friends of old and in you — the one he still calls his dearest.
The Thief Star shimmering on the horizon emanates gentle light, announcing the passing of the previous day. Deep into the dimly lit night, with the bottom of his cup still sparkling in pink of the pomegranate juice mixed with goat milk, Mydei looks up at the starless, greyish sky and wonders how long until enemies descend onto this city. The meteor could be shining deep crimson for all it’s worth — its symbolism isn’t that grim anymore since the entirety of Amphoreus has sunk into calamity regardless if it was shining white or scarlet.
Curious it is that so many people living here haven’t seen the true darkness, heavens sprinkled with stars like flour on the baker’s table. He remembers those and smiles to himself, sensing the sentimental wave washing over his mind.
The rest of his body still buzzes with chatter and laughter of the spontaneous dinner near the blacksmith’s forge. It was fine and put him in a good mood. But warm embers in the fire, prattle and songs, and Kremnoan men patting each other on the shoulders always bring out memories he wishes to digest alone. Just a while ago, he moved up on the terrace next to his lodging, trying to wash away thoughts about the past and finish his drink while lying on the blanket left on the floor.
Watching Okhema fade into a quiet night is boring. Peaceful and easing the tension in his body, but not interesting, and he doesn’t feel like resting yet. There is too much adrenaline still running through his bloodstream to think about sleep; besides, what point would it be now if the morning will arrive sooner than expected?
Just to fiddle with his hands and pass the time, he takes off the heavy gauntlets and the golden plates off his legs, finally revelling in the mild wind stroking his skin through clothes. His arms are hot from wearing metal all day, sweaty under his fingers, albeit quickly drying with each swipe of the breeze.
He once again stares into nothingness but the sound of footsteps nearby jerks him out of his reverie.
It’s you, walking from behind the balustrade, pulling yourself over the marble with grace but visible tiredness.
Not surprising that it’s you since little to no one knows about the passage between the columns that allows one to step onto his balcony without first getting through the guards. It’s useful, even for Mydei. He was insistent on sharing the same houses and rooms with everyone else, but Krateros didn’t want to hear any of that, and thus he ended up with a private quarter and this spot, right next to his room; it would be great for stargazing, if not for the skies forever brightened by the Dawn Device.
“And why are you sneaking around at night?” He says in a gruff voice. “Tough day?”
“How did you know?” You reply with a question to his question, sitting in front of him, leaning over his raised knee as he makes enough space for you on the carpet.
“It’s past the Curtain-Fall Hour. And you bit your lip again.”
“Aah, nothing gets past your keen eyes, does it?” You laugh sheepishly, reaching with your fingers to press on your lips and bite them again, but you stop in the last moment under the influence of his dissatisfied glare. “You know how it’s like with the Council of Elders. The pots with fresh water and food should have been delivered to refugees much earlier, so I’m quite pissed about the fact that only now we have people assigned to do the job…” You end up with a whine, slumping over his knee.
Mydei is happy to see you. He nods, passing the cup to you and waiting until you take a sip, your fingers brushing against his. You don’t drink much, just to taste it, but the pomegranate seeds stick to your lower lip anyway. Before he can instinctively reach to wipe your mouth, you do it yourself against the hem of your dress.
“Manners.”
“I’m tired, spare me the critique. At least the benefit of working near the Marmoreal Palace is that I can take a bath right after leaving.” Your hair smells nicely of flower oils as you push it away from your face and sigh contentedly.
He finds you beautiful no matter if you’re freshly bathed or not, or if you’re exhausted or wear a dress stained with fruit juice. He won’t tell you that. This isn’t the first time you’ve ended up here when your mind needed distraction after long hours of work. It’s become somewhat a habit. If anything, he likes it too.
“I’ve heard you spent some time near the blacksmith’s workshop. Isn’t there too hot to host a party? Did something happen?”
“The forges are always burning. Do they bother you that much?” He chuckles as your eyebrow lifts and your forehead creases with curiosity. “Nothing happened. They had wine and honey brew, which some of the soldiers could not refuse. I followed them to hear their stories.”
“But you don’t drink… Was your evening pleasant, then?”
“I’m certain I would enjoy it much less if I were interested in alcohol.” Mydei pats your head. Your eyes close briefly under his touch. “It’s valuable to know what’s happening among other people, especially during times like these.”
You agree silently.
“Heh, maybe one day I will hear from you an engaging tale of flirting in front of the fire instead of the usual serious blabber.” Your cheeky grin spreads wide across your face, making him sneer in disbelief.
“I consider you serious to a similar degree. What would be more worrying is if you stopped rambling incessantly after work. At least you’re keeping me amused without getting on my nerves.”
“Unlike Phainon?”
“I might take back what I’ve just said about you.”
“Forgive me, I was just teasing you! Don’t look at me with this expression…” You plead, showing him the most innocent face you can manage despite laughter bubbling deep in your throat. “Alright, back to tonight’s celebration— and then you started thinking about the past and decided to leave, hmm?”
“Indeed.”
“You should try telling me some of your stories. Maybe they’d weigh less on your heart then.”
“Maybe another time.” He cuts you off fast.
“I’ve heard that already.” You chortle softly, pinching his left arm through the sleeve. He barely flinches under your touch. “I have another question then, if you don’t mind. Just warning you that it’s quite specific and I allow you to behead me if it’s too personal.”
“I’m always dreading your unexpected questions.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks down at you with half a smile. “But since we are here alone, feel free to do so.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about this for a while already but couldn’t find the right moment…” You start slowly, moving onto his lap like a curious cat, though you subconsciously pin him in place without an evident chance for him to escape since he’d be forced to throw you off himself first. Out of reflex, his palms settle on your hips to keep you upright if you were to lose balance; his thumbs draw tiny circles on the fabric of your tunic, slightly bunching it up. “Are you… by any chance… a virgin?”
The question is purely evil by his standards — nothing he has ever cared about, and neither wanted to contemplate, yet forever present because of his legacy. Futile were his constant efforts to make it clear that he was not interested in being a king and, less important but still affecting him deeply, not ready either. Not in this lifetime, no matter how long, not even after a thousand deaths.
Thankfully, you were one of those few people that he could trust.
Or so he thought because your inquiring voice still hangs in the heavy air and he wishes you weren’t that likeable because he couldn’t even get mad at you.
He just sighs, resigned.
“Why do you need to know?”
“I don’t. I just want to know but it’s not a demand.” Your finger plays around the golden swirls of his leather belt. “Please, don’t feel obliged to answer.”
“You wouldn’t be asking me that if I had a choice.”
“You can always refuse. I won’t be mad! I’m sorry if I’m pushing your limits, though…”
Your gaze is fixed on his chest as your fingertips caress his skin, exploring the sinuous red markings, and his breathing raises heavily. You would never order anything from him, at least not when it comes to intimacy. That’s a problematic topic for both of you, if you assume correctly.
Even more so if the current state of Amphoreus is taken into consideration. Perhaps those average citizens of Okhema do not feel the dread reaching their feet, blissfully unaware — or without the desire to be aware. Which is, frankly, understandable, as bearing the knowledge of the black tide and the reality behind the borders of the Holy City is enough to make your spirit falter multiple times a day. This is not what one could call a good climate for flirting or looking for love. The chances of losing friends and family are too great.
Besides, swept by the workload between the forever complaining Council of Elders and running errands in Lady Aglaea’s or Lady Tribios’ stead takes too much of your daily time to even think of anything that isn’t helping the cause.
Mayhaps that is exactly why you grew so close to Mydei across all these years of serving Okhema. He’s also involved, even more than you could ever be. Together with other Chrystos Heirs, he represents hope, although his life was nothing but hopeless, if you were to believe the tales and songs you often hear among the crowd. But he protects those who cannot shield themselves. For the very same reason, the majority of his people refer to him as a god king even though he is still just a crowned prince and hasn’t claimed any of the Coreflames yet.
Your innocent curiosity always blossoms between the frown of his eyebrows before they can even form a wrinkle, with your kind spirit taking away all his sturdiness.
He takes a deep breath, again.
“And how do I look to you?”
“I think you had your fair share of lovers. It just doesn’t feel significant to you because you’re always moving forward.” You guess, a bold statement despite the burn on your face.
Mydei remains silent.
Nevertheless, you are not wrong. As far as he remembers, many men and women alike were falling easily and often for him — that he wasn’t counting, but this makes him uncomfortable in his own skin since it implies that they didn’t seem worthy of his time. Quite the opposite. Mydei cared for some of them, enjoyed as well, picking only partners who gave him the resolve to continue his endless journey. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t; they got tired or fed up and he was too busy reaching the elusive destination; some wanted nothing else than an immortal warrior protecting them; others died of old age or sickness or defeated by enemies. None had made him weak. But there is something different with you that feels too weakening to ignore…
Albeit your appearance is distinct, so many other traits downright unlike those he remembers — you do bring out from the depths of his heart the same emotions he used to know only in the past. From when his most treasured companions were still alive, when Hephaestion was still sitting beside him in his lithe form. Since then, no one made him feel truly complete.
Not even Phainon…
Not even you…
How many years has it been? Is love even something he can understand outside of just hearing it in another language? He’s aware that this word exists. A concept, not acknowledged by any of his kin.
Has he ever specifically looked for love?
Not after bidding farewells to his friends, wasting opportunity after opportunity to say anything more about his feelings besides calling it a fellowship exceeding life and death. Ingrained forever in his heart, they follow him to this day, in memories. He misses them. Always and forever. But there is a part of him regretting that he hadn’t given himself a chance in a romantic or at least sexual pursuit before it was too late and he grew bitter and hurt, death after death until resurrection was the only thing setting his heart ablaze.
Another issue is that he has never wished for an heir. That would only bring more suffering. If not for him, then for that innocent child burdened with his blood. Even with the use of elixirs from the Grove, he was doubtful if women could avoid getting pregnant after sharing his bed. Especially doubtful since Mnestia’s blessings were often unexpected, breaking all forms of law and order.
But he doesn’t want to think about it now.
Disinterested in searching for a female companion, Mydei considered men as well, as it surely would prevent the risk of conceiving a child. However, it didn’t feel right in his mind to flirt with those who were sons and grandsons of his previous comrades.
But he doesn’t want to think about it now, either.
Such is the fickleness of lovers because Cerces, Titan of Reason, would surely argue about all that, but Titan of Romance was never one to listen.
Now, it is beyond Mydei’s understanding how he ended up tonight with you on that intricately woven carpet, with pillows and half-empty bowls of fruits from the previous feast. Even worse, he enjoys your presence and smiles inside whenever there’s a chance to spend time together when none of you is busy.
But that is a long story. Stupidly so, he thinks about it way too often, reminding himself of all the shared adventures and uneventful days, similar to how he reminisces about his companions of old.
“I am… not interested in that kind of pleasure.” He replies at last.
That was honest enough. But not satisfactory. Your head shakes slowly, accepting his vague words while trying to connect them into something that would let you imagine anything more than that. He must have sensed it because he places his hand over your palm.
“Even if I say more, you won’t find any sufficient reason to my decision.”
“What a pity. Maybe next time if you ever feel like talking with me more. I don’t mind, though…”
Mydei bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste his blood for a second. What do you mean by that?
The sheer confusion of having you on his lap, talking about intimacy, cuddling him and raking your nails gently across his muscles, prevents him from even getting hard in his pants. Laughable. Foolish. As if that would ever happen in reality, like it must be a dream despite him being the one to invite you to spend the evening together since he’s rarely available for a private conversation, even at nights.
His eyes close upon your gentle touch. When will he finally comprehend that it’s making him too weak? Letting your hands on him scatter what little sanity he has left in his mind…
“Have you been always interested in finding out?”
“Hmm, no… But I wonder if you’d ever want to take it further than just letting me on your lap or sharing the same fruit on the rooftops at night?”
His lips purse until the sharpness of his jawline relaxes with a scoff. One day he might actually fall for someone like you. Maybe he already did but doesn’t want to admit it.
Would he let anyone else on his lap or share the same fruit on the rooftops at night? Unlikely.
This small distance between the two of you makes him squirm underneath you. In spite of your everyday guise, now you look confident, although bashful. And he, instead of the recognisable pride and intensity, is clueless, cornered. He pulls you closer by the waist. His body burns hotter the more he tries to stay away.
How quickly you can defeat him with your soft body and saccharine eyes. Mydei would even dare to say that he prefers having you on top, as much as he likes being in charge otherwise. But he cannot stop admiring you either — something about this peculiar aura that makes you as mysterious as you are inviting.
As he thinks, your lips curve around his fingers after placing kisses through them; you keep eye contact as you continue, nuzzling into his open hand. He knows you’re doing your best because otherwise you would rather hide, hoping that closing your eyes is enough to make you disappear. He could smile about it, too, if he did not see such behaviour as sickening. Painfully adorable.
Insecurely flirting, you couldn’t be possibly any closer to the complete opposite of him, yet the more time he spends with you, the more similarities he finds despite those contrasting first impressions. He’s now gently grabbing your cheeks between his palms, as if to ground himself before overthinking your strange familiarity, that you fit here like he’s been doing that for years and not a short while.
A kiss might heal your fears; it must, judging from how quick you are to react. For a moment there is no place left in Mydei’s mind that isn’t occupied by the giggles coming out of you once he allows himself to do more than just taste that sweet flavour of your lips.
This could not get any better, but before he can even relish in this little pleasure, your hands settle on his abdomen. Then you try going further south. When you reach the hem of his pants, your mouth turns dry and your throat clenches, forcing you to stop the kiss when you imagine what this will lead to if he won’t stop you. In turn, his breathing also increases; he knows very well what’s happening and he would gladly give it to you freely if not for a better idea invading his senses.
“Mhm—” His grunt against your mouth is almost indecorous. “Stop your hands.” You pull apart, slightly ashamed of your own eagerness.
While you shy away and look down, Mydei swiftly places you below him, laying your back on the soft carpet. Suddenly he looms over your form and his hair falls to the sides of his face like a golden waterfall. One arm supporting his weight, he pushes some locks behind his ear with the other and then uses it to open your legs without any strength; you are easy to spread for him, but still attempt to regain an ounce of control by hooking a calf above his hips and force him to retain some distance.
“I have never claimed a woman in bed. And I do not plan on changing that tonight.”
“That’s… d-did you have to get us in this position just to say that?” Your voice trembles with an awkward laugh.
“Had you asked that question yourself, you wouldn’t be straddling my lap before that.” He sounds petulant, but that doesn’t stop him from leaning down to kiss your neck. “But if you’re so insistent on getting an answer out of me, I can prove you my lack of experience.”
By that, you understand what he means — a demonstration rather than using words to convince you. Then again, you wonder how else could he demonstrate something that he’s never done before. Does he want you to guide him? Should you?
Instead of allowing you to ponder too much, he ends up with his face between your legs, pulling away the soft cotton of your flimsy tunic. As always, it’s been so easy for you to set fire inside of him; it never takes long nor does much effort on your part to become this desperate mess he tries to contain. Everything about you looks divinely forbidden but tastes like sacred sugar on his tongue as your scent fills his nostrils; it smells sweeter than all the pomegranates. It feels softer than silk when he nips your inner thighs, teasing you until you muffle your first moans in the pillows.
The only thing that doesn’t match perfectly the vision in his head is your body language, which seems reluctant somehow. But how else can he interpret this resistance when your pulse quickens and he knows very well what the agitated rhythm of it means?
“Are you alright?” He asks against your stomach.
“Not at all.” Your voice barely works when you speak and he has to lean closer.
“What? Is everything fine?” he insists, worried.
“Nothing is fine. The crowned prince of Kremnos is kissing my thighs!” You try to laugh off the embarrassment, but it takes another short-breath confirmation, maybe even a whine and some broken words to explain your sudden hesitation. “This is the first time someone moves between my legs…”
“This is my first time getting down on a woman…” He responds without stutter, but his confession gains your attention and you prop on your elbows with wide eyes.
“You’re now making me curious and wishing I knew this story.”
He shakes his head with a smirk. “Irrelevant. Is it even the right time?”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting—”
Without adding anything else and stopping your voice, Mydei goes straight to work — slowly, tentative. If he truly needs to get acquainted with that act, then why not do it now with you? When his tongue starts tasting every inch, he hears you gasping in surprise at this unexpected warmth enveloping your pussy.
“Mydei!” You laugh in between whimpers, trying to stop your knees from shaking when he eagerly suckles everywhere around, no precision whatsoever but definitely mapping where you get sensitive. “Ah—! I will not believe that you haven’t touched a woman!”
“Is it that different? Because I don’t think so.” He replies bluntly, raising his head for just a moment before kissing all around your tummy. He has no problem being honest about how little experience he really has. That is mostly because of how you look, all messed up and giggly despite him just instinctively following some clues.
Unable to stop himself from wondering, sometimes his attention to detail gets on his nerves. Why can’t he simply enjoy you as you are, writhing and all excited just because he’s the one touching you? Why does he have to muse if you always get so easily riled up, or is it his influence alone? He doesn’t dare to ask you about your experience, frowning when none of the possibilities can be backed by what he knows about you.
After nibbling around your midriff, he remembers the main goal. He carefully uses two fingers to separate your folds, finding that tender button of flesh pulsating hot under his thumb. Again, you tremble hard underneath the foreign touch, although he believes it feels good enough and he cannot take his eyes off you.
“I wasn’t doubting you…” You chuckle before the moan spills off your open lips.
“Here?” He asks, ignoring everything else.
“Y-yes…” Your voice turns into a sob with the next flick against your clit, unable to talk anymore as Mydei leans forward again.
It only takes him a while to understand exactly how much pressure you need, which direction to apply it and how much of you he should fit inside his mouth.
“Does it feel good?” There’s genuine concern behind these words.
“Yes, yes, it does…”
The goosebumps rise on your thigh under his palm. Whenever you let out a shaky exhale, the only other sound that remains between you two is the obscene one made by your wet cunt sliding against his face. And you enjoy every little bit of it as your eyes roll back, finally succumbing into this new type of pleasure; your nails disappear among the wild strands of his golden hair as you desperately grab and caress them. His name keeps escaping your lips each time his tongue circles your pussy, never focusing on your sweet spot exclusively until it reaches the point where it aches for his attention.
“Mydei, I— you’ve just asked if it’s the spot…”
“Yes. This is why I’m not touching you there.” He smiles.
“H-uh, don’t be like that!”
“Am I doing it well, or do you rather have my fingers instead?” The tone is serious even if he sees the annoyed look taking hold of your expression.
He waits for a response, pleased to watch you fumble while searching for the right word — especially once your hips start swaying unconsciously to regain back the friction that was removed too suddenly. When no verbal answer comes, he lifts an eyebrow with pride at the lack of it because it can only mean that he has flustered you beyond reason. You can only yelp out a timid agreement, too busy hiding your face behind your hand, before he gives it a chance and slides one finger inside.
“Mydei, ugh—!”
“And others complain that I’m incompetent at expressing my feelings…” He croons at your intangible comment.
“Hmph…”
Despite what he initially claimed, Mydei does indeed know how to pleasure women. Perhaps it is not that different, like he said, just to understand the other person, no matter the previous experience. His calloused hands aren’t particularly gentle nor careful as he moves inside but that’s just a matter of getting adjusted to your body; other than that, he knows what he’s doing. He assumes with great accuracy, making up for the lack of habitual gestures with what is his keen instinct. His wrist moves slow yet feels like hammer nonetheless, a firm thrust compared to the previous kitten licks left on your clit which you still sense the dissipating flutter of.
And the sight is no less arousing for him; after licking his upper lip clean, Mydei stares at your gaping mouth and your furrowed eyebrows when his free hand rubs soothing circles on the inner part of your knee. A second finger slides alongside the first to stretch you further, to feel the squeeze of your walls getting snug. They twitch deliciously whenever he curls upwards, reaching your sweetest spot hidden deep within and allowing himself some needy murmurs to match yours.
“It’s e-enough…” You mumble in an utterly unconvincing tone.
“Is it? Do you want me to stop?” He looks up at you, eyes sharply gauging if you truly meant it.
“… No.”
He raises an eyebrow at you, sighing at the mixed response. “Are you close?”
“Y-yes, I think so…”
With your juices spilling all over him, Mydei speeds up until every motion becomes nearly too much. His touch sets you ablaze until there’s nothing else you can do but come undone with a long whine followed by short gasps to keep your breathing steady — though it does nothing to calm the muscles clamping around his digits, even after he stops moving them altogether. He enjoys having you trapped between bliss and oversensitivity, feeling the softness of your warm skin glimmering with sweat and your heartbeat racing underneath the skin.
Any attempts of calming yourself down end up futile while your pussy convulses around his still inserted fingers, covered in your sticky arousal; not that he minds at all. Frankly, he is quite delighted seeing you shaken to such a degree. He would lie saying that it wasn’t rewarding to render you completely vulnerable. Alas, he’s doubtful that this could feel that good with his lack of tact. He’s skilled in the art of war, not love — if he can even call it as such, knowing this word only in one language, nonexistent in the other. Any previous endeavours were always clumsy, frustrating; at least now he’s aware of that, slightly more confident while getting close to someone’s body.
Your state, however? Unimaginable.
It’d be simply impossible to make you that satisfied in a short amount of time and he doesn’t believe that you’d be that much more sensitive than any of his past lovers either. So, where lies the difference? Is it in your eyes that glance at him between fluttering lashes, shiny from tears and with pupils blown wide to cover the colour of your irises almost whole? Do you see in him something more than anyone else? That makes him flinch, bedazzled and iffy at being perceived even through your barely responsive consciousness.
Nonetheless, he doesn’t want to part with your pussy because it feels so good keeping his fingers nestled inside — a warm hug of your slippery walls. He swallows a knot in his throat and eventually withdraws, staring at your opening as it contracts briefly before the climax dwindles entirely. His jaw stays slack with amazement at the glistening surface that welcomes him — swollen, slightly parted around the entrance dripping slick from his relentless pumping. A vision that will haunt him every night before sleep unless he somehow manages to tell you that he needs you more than he’s willing to admit; that he wants to do this again. Then he does it, leans forward once again. Your core throbs tiredly when he brings his mouth right against your sensitive clit.
“Mydei, enough!”
He kisses you there just once, a long-lasting suckle. “Now it’s enough.”
You let out a breathy laugh, weakly fiddling with his hair in amusement. You barely register what is happening anymore until he starts trailing upward; he can only purr once your hands grab him by the neck and pull him up, eager to smooch those lips covered in your own essence.
And here it is again, the sudden urge that hits him when he realises how willingly you cling to him right away after the deed. You wrap your arms around him, holding tight as you both roll sideways on the fluffy carpet before sinking anew into the pillows and silken sheets. Mydei breaks the kiss just to nuzzle into your collarbone and you whisper something similar to ‘I love you’. Although he didn’t hear it clearly, he will not bother asking for clarification.
“I’ll leave you a good memory…” He whispers back with his golden eyes meeting yours as he embraces you closer and settles comfortably on the side to not squish you with his weight.
“Just one?” You pout. “Can I ask for more?”
“Mhm.” He’s thankful you understand what he’s unable to say out loud. Except that he’s more and more desperate to overcome that abstract shyness because it’s humiliating that he’s more scared to whisper in your ear that he wants to bed you than to speak in front of the entire Kremnoan Detachement. “But not right now.”
“Yes, not right now. I feel like falling asleep…” You hum with satisfaction and yawn softly, brushing a few stray locks of his hair behind his ear.
He wants you to fall asleep in his arms, looking at you almost pleadingly after he nearly melts against your palm when it touches his temple. Your fingertips dance through the sharp curves of his features — cheeks, jaw, forehead, nose bridge and back to his lips where they pause for a second, letting him brush a brief peck on them. A sigh leaves his mouth while he holds you tighter as he puts his head on top of yours. The sound makes your heart ache when he mumbles another unclear statement and you’re too dazed to translate his language.
If there ever existed a moment without his worries and legacy weighing heavy on him, that would be now — watching Kephale’s sun gleam at the first morning hour with you still sleeping safe in his arms, cuddled on his chest.
Maybe he will tell you one day that you remind him of his dearest friend…
— i will add commentary to the lines that made me go hbjdosiodfr.....ddjirjpoijojdds fljdfjs.... mueiddideiadfjkfni... you get it. and then i shall praise you in the way you deserve to be praised in the tags if that is okay!! (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)💞 OKAY!!! allons-y:
Curious it is that so many people living here haven’t seen the true darkness, heavens sprinkled with stars like flour on the baker’s table.
manu your imagery + prose + the metaphors you use to describe setting... I AM HELD TAUT IN ITS CLUTCHES!!! i tend to associate different writer's styles to food heh and yours is indeed very pastry flavoured to me 🥺 it's very layered and textured if that makes sense... delicate!! there's always a sense of indulgence and intricacy i associate yoru writing with, especially your longer fics like this... ANYWAY!! just beautiful writing overall straight from the get go YAY 💗💗💗
You end up with a whine, slumping over his knee. / Before he can instinctively reach to wipe your mouth, / Mydei pats your head. Your eyes close briefly under his touch.
these little actions are so cute to me... 🥺 the familiarity between him and the reader — i know you said it's past that stage in the slow burn heh but seeing how gentle he is with her is making me tear up waaaaahhh!!! (。ﾉω＼。) favourite trope of all time ever will be big beefy brute of a man who turns into a wide eyed soft hearted puppy around the one he loves hehe :3
Your cheeky grin spreads wide across your face, making him sneer in disbelief.
nyooooo this destroyed meeee /pos!!! reader is so silly and cute here ehehehe i'm unsure if this is a manudei coded fic so i shan't read too much into it — but this reminds me of a selfship sketch you posted some time agoooo!!! 🥺 i really really like the dynamic reader and mydei have going on here. how he entertains all her ridiculous musings and endures her teasing WAAHH... so cute so cutes :3 i imagine payback for this will be given when he beds her in due time... eeek!!!!!!! 🙈🥺💘
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about this for a while already but couldn’t find the right moment…” / Out of reflex, his palms settle on your hips to keep you upright if you were to lose balance;
🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 HOLY WOAHH!!!!!!!! 😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵 /POS BY THE WAY LOL OH MY GOSH... we are getting into the spice... *insert that one office meme of michael scott right here* AOAKDASDH oh please this reader is really so cheeky and bold AAAHHHH!!!! 🙈 her teasing met with his gentle response — the underlying concern when he keeps you upright in the case you may fall (。•́︿•̀。) #considerateking EHE!
Futile were his constant efforts to make it clear that he was not interested in being a king and, less important but still affecting him deeply, not ready either. / Thankfully, you were one of those few people that he could trust.
okies so the extent of my mydei knowledge has been rooted in my brain solely through manusmosis (manu osmosis) and all your mydei posting... iirc & just using basic comprehension here i think that he has no interest in rearing an heir? 🤔 (kill me if i'm wrong) and reading the succeeding paragraphs i am understanding that perhaps it is not the best climate to raise a child LOL AH... i hope that is correct... REGARDLESS — what i am trying to say here is how i so admire your ability to lay down the groundwork for the very intricate lore of hsr + amphoreus in a way that makes it easy for people unfamiliar with the content (aka, me) to relate these circumstances to the characters AND find things about them... like their habits and mannerisms and relationships with other characters to hold close 🥺💗 like i have grown so attached to mydei and this reader even if it has only been a handful of words and i WISH NOTHING BAD EVER HAPPENS TO THEM ): you know!!!!! i think it is not easy to accomplish this as an author, especially for an audience who may not be familiar with the character (aka, me) ehehe so :3 👏👏👏 i applaud you so much for it!! you are truly such an incredible writer friend!!!
Your innocent curiosity always blossoms between the frown of his eyebrows before they can even form a wrinkle, with your kind spirit taking away all his sturdiness.
🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I AM SO SORRY MANU I HAVE NOTHING SUBSTANTIAL TO SAY HERE 🥺 it hurts so good... he is so weak to the reader and soft on them oh my goshhhh in my head i am imagining him speak more gently to them compared to how he addresses other people 🥺💗🥺💗🥺💗🥺💗🥺💗
many men and women alike were falling easily and often for him
OMG #considerateBIkingwhoisnotactuallyaking
He’s aware that this word exists. A concept, not acknowledged by any of his kin.
mydei no love???? 🥺 mydei no experience with love?????? 🥺🥺 mydei... 🥺🥺🥺 love is just a concept to him??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺 manu this is frying me so horrible /POS (always pos with you oh my goodness) poor man must be snapping his neurons with all the overthinking he is doing considering his feelings for the reader + the nature of their relationship LOL NYOOOO... someone please save him please shake him by the shoulders and make him seeeeee /silly 🥹
Mydei swiftly places you below him, laying your back on the soft carpet. Suddenly he looms over your form and his hair falls to the sides of his face like a golden waterfall.
him taking charge like this OASODDHJKHKS this is so sexy to me... how the turn tables... reader being the one to push his buttons (affectionately) prior to this moment vs now when she is flustered by this change in his behaviour WEHEH... he said. there are limits to how much teasing i will take ✋ waaahh after all he is still a very mighty chrysos heir!!! 🙈💗 this part made me blush so much heh
Everything about you looks divinely forbidden but tastes like sacred sugar on his tongue as your scent fills his nostrils; it smells sweeter than all the pomegranates. It feels softer than silk
pastry writing... 🥹 this is such a simple paragraph but it squeezes my heart soooo so good... how he views the reader in tandem with the sweetest things in life. again this just reinforces to me however much he may be parading about waving his denial flag in the air, the love for her is creeping up very steadily up his spine heh... he will admit to these feelings sooner or later (I HOPE) 🥺💖
“What? Is everything fine?” he insists, worried. / “Nothing is fine. The crowned prince of Kremnos is kissing my thighs!” / “This is my first time getting down on a woman…” / He shakes his head with a smirk. “Irrelevant. Is it even the right time?”
these few back-and-forth lines SO SINCERELY I GIGGLED OUT LOUD... 🥺🥺🥺 it's soooo very sweet to me. earlier you mentioned how mydei trusts the reader so wholly, and it makes me smile to see him be so forthright in admitting that this is his first time WAH THAT'S REALLY CUTE ): he is really cutesie here manu.... still super manly of course!!! (ง •̀_•́)ง but it is indeed quite lovely to see this side of him, as opposed to the content i am already exposed to of him through my dashboard eheheh... manu's characterisation of mydei is bible (TO ME!!!!) 🙇♀️
raising his head for just a moment before kissing all around your tummy.
HE IS JUST A BIG KITTY CAT NOOOOO... he must be truly pussydrunk to be all adorable and endearing with you like this uwaaaah... (⁄ ⁄>⁄ω⁄<⁄ ⁄) 💓💓 tummy kissies 🥺 i picture him hiding a smile into her tummy when it inevitably coaxes some tickled giggles from her ehehe.
“I’ll leave you a good memory…” He whispers back with his golden eyes meeting yours as he embraces you closer / “Just one?” You pout. “Can I ask for more?” / He wants you to fall asleep in his arms, looking at you almost pleadingly after he nearly melts against your palm when it touches his temple
i didn't expect to cry reading this fic SOKSDAFSLJ nor did i expect to grow as attached to mydei and this reader and their bond as i have... 🥺🥺🥺 it was undoubtedly the ending of this fic that did it for me — the bittersweet tragedy of it all ): not knowing what tomorrow will bring and the hesitance of perhaps taking that leap of faith over a cliff that you can't see the other side of ): beautiful 🥺 Beautiful!!! as your writing always is, manu 🤗💘 THIS WAS TRULY SUCH A TREAT OF A FIC TO READ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
❛ A TRIAL OF INTIMACY AND ROMANCE ❜ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
౿ it wasn’t unlike your boyfriend alhaitham and his roommate kaveh to get into playful spats, you just didn’t think that one day you would end up at the centre of one… in the best way possible.
alhaitham x fem reader x kaveh. threesome though it’s mostly alhaitham letting kaveh touch you. fem oral receiving. alhaitham cums his pants. alot of haikaveh bickering. teasing. you are alhaitham’s gf. a small smidge of possessiveness. pussyjob (and an accidental tip slip). groping and touches.
word count. 7.8k words. ₊ 𓂃 return to masterlist.
You like to think you have a good relationship with your boyfriend's roommate, Kaveh.
It was an almost instantaneous sort of connection when Alhaitham had first introduced you both and despite what the Scribe may claim (playfully for the most part) – you dont think his roommate is a particularly hard person to get along with at all. Infact you might even say he was quite the opposite.
Kaveh has always been kind to you, keeping you company if Alhaitham was busy with work or even just listening to your troubles, and you’re glad that you both ended up building such a strong friendship considering how much time you wind up spending over at your boyfriend’s house.
Well, that and as much as Alhaitham would never admit it, you do believe that he wants Kaveh to like you, because despite how often the both of them may bicker and fight – you think there was a reciprocated sort of respect between them both. They were best friends after all – it's normal to want your bestfriend to get along with your girlfriend.
And thankfully, to your boyfriend’s pleasure, both of your personalities seemed to slot together quite easily. Sure, Kaveh was the opposite of Alhaitham in many ways – he was a little more emotional, dramatic and outspoken but he was also kind-hearted and gentle. You’d shared breakfasts together, dinners or drinks at the Tavern and despite the way the blonde never could hold his alcohol – he always seemed to get a little sappier whenever he ended up a little tipsy around you.
He’d always gush about how grateful he was that you came into not only his, but Alhaitham’s life – claiming that you helped to loosen and soften him up a bit, though both of you know that the Scribe would never admit that himself. You can still remember the look he was giving you both as you whispered giddily beside him at the table, Kaveh even loudly joked that if you ever needed an ear to talk about how annoying Alhaitham was, he'd gladly lend his.
A statement that had earned him not only a scoff from your boyfriend, but also a laugh from you.
And to your surprise, that very same Scribe even lasted until the end of the night before opting to see you both home– (like you weren't all going to the same place anyway).
But because of these moments, the rest of your friendship continued as such, you were comfortable around each other and that was the most important part. It was something you cherished quite deeply to yourself actually, and you were glad to have built such a relationship with someone who was so close to Alhaitham.
But that’s exactly why you worry about Kaveh, especially as you look at him now. You’d arrived at their house this morning – having made plans at the beginning of the week to spend the night with your boyfriend, ultimately deciding on a low-key sort of date night when he was relieved from his duties as Scribe.
You hadn’t dressed up too much, opting for a simple, plain dress given the humidity that often settled in Sumeru around this time of day and your want to be cute but still comfortable enough to rest in Alhaitham’s house for the night. Actually, you hadn’t even expected your boyfriend’s roommate to be home at all, assuming he’d be out in the desert on a job that he’s been dealing with the last few days.
But it seems that job hasn’t even gotten that far yet.
There's an endless amount of blueprints spread out across the coffee table in Alhaitham's living room and you can tell by the tired look on Kaveh's features that he's probably been staring at them for a while. He often got like this, overworking himself to death on projects and stretching himself quite thin just so he can earn himself a smile from a client.
And as much as you loved that part of him, the selfless and adorable part, you can't help but find yourself worrying. Even just looking at him now makes you bury yourself into Alhaitham's chest a little more from where you’re resting next to him on the couch. His arm is resting quite snugly around your waist and he seems to pick up on the inner workings of your brain quite quickly as he lets his gaze drop to you.
You share a look before he’s looking back at his roommate to ask.
"And just when was the last time you had a break, might I ask?" Your boyfriend speaks flatly, although you can hear the way the question is laced with subtle concern.
"Ugh, I don't know, a few hours ago, maybe. I— I don't have time for this, Alhaitham. I still have designs to finish. Why do you ask?" Kaveh’s voice strains, most likely from a mixture of fatigue and not having used it in a while. His fuse was shorter than usual when he got like this– so it was quite easy for Alhaitham to rile him up, though judging by his expression, that is probably the last thing he needs right now.
But then you feel your boyfriend shrug, and you can almost predict what’s coming. "No reason, we were just hoping to spend some time together is all and you seem to be taking up most of the living room."
It’s not that Alhaitham did it deliberately— his manner of speech was just more matter-a-fact, he always preferred to speak factually and didn’t particularly like to lace his words with rhetoric just to make someone feel better. And as it stands now, Kaveh is in the middle of what is supposed to be your date night. So why wouldn’t he say that?
Maybe that’s exactly what makes something in his roommate’s exterior crack. The blonde scoffs, “Do you really need to rub it in, Alhaitham? Can't you at least show a little respect for your senior? I’d kill to be able to enjoy a day off from my work but some of us don’t just organise files for a living.” He’s looking at you both now from where you rest at the other side of the room, and despite the blonde’s frustration, Alhaitham remains quite unbothered.
“Jealous are we now, Kaveh? You get wound up by some things so easily.” He teases, amusement evident in the way his lips seem to curl around his words and you feel his arm squeeze around your waist a little tighter. “I do wonder where all of that frustration comes from. Pent up perhaps?”
Another scoff from across the room, and you feel like you can’t turn your head fast enough to keep up, “Oh please, you wouldn’t know the first thing about anything like that. Haven't you only had one relationship, you... you don’t understand anything!" Kaveh runs his hands through his hair and you can’t help but send him a sympathetic look when he looks at you, although only for a moment as Alhaitham’s readies his quip.
“Oh, are you claiming that you have much more experience, Kaveh? Or would you prefer I started rhyming the facts?” You feel your boyfriend push himself up a little straighter on the couch as he remains holding you, "Like how long it’s been since the last time you had a date to accompany you to the Tavern, or anywhere for that matter."
"What's your deal? I don't have any trouble getting dates, Uh... I've just been busy trying to catch up on my work. I'd be much more suited to being a boyfriend than you anyway, I'm much more experienced."
"Oh really?" There’s a breath of silence when Alhaitham responds this time, like Kaveh’s mind is only just catching up to what his mouth is spouting, though it’s not fast enough for it to stop him as he flippantly twists his wrist in the air. As if shrugging off Alhaitham’s disbelieving tone.
"Absolutely. I can only pity a man that doesn't understand the first thing about intimacy and romance." He responds quite confidently this time, as if he’s completely sure about what he’s saying. But you can feel the response Alhaitham’s body has to his words before he voices it himself. It’s like there’s something akin to amusement, or curiosity in his sudden body language.
But not even as subtle of a hint could prepare you for what he actually says.
"If that's the case then, go right ahead. If you're so confident in your abilities, feel free to demonstrate." Alhaitham outstretches his hand around you as if giving Kaveh the floor, and that earns him a raised brow from the blonde across the room— followed by a confused look from you aswell. Though you allow his roommate to voice that for you both,
"Hmph, what's that supposed to mean?" Kaveh asks, but you both share a look that lasts too long for it not to be deliberate before Alhaitham can answer.
"Well, you both get along quite well, don't you? If you think you're much better suited for my position, we can prove that right now." Despite the implication of his words, Alhaitham seems to look as unbothered by this conversation as always. Which in turn only leaves the both of you, gaping and glancing between him and each other before you turn your whole body around to face your boyfriend. You almost manage a What? But then Kaveh cuts you off—
"T-this isn't funny, Alhaitham. I'm not in the mood for your pranks." Though if you were to turn back around you’d notice the way he seems to have taken a more flushed sort of shade. He buries his head in his hands as if in an attempt to hide that, but that’s an impossible feat when it comes to Alhaitham.
Who turns his gaze back to you despite the way he responds to Kaveh, "Going through all of this trouble for a prank sounds like a real headache." His words are followed by his hand coming up to softly graze along your cheek, and you would think he just answered all of your questions with a single movement with the way you lean into it. But then he speaks again, smiling subtly "I'd even argue that she seems quite eager to help you relax a bit, and judging by the look on your face, you don't seem opposed to that idea either.”
You find yourself feeling incredibly flustered for a moment as you whip your head back around to look at Kaveh again, noticing the way he immediately looks away as soon as your eyes meet. You can’t say you’ve never thought about him in that sort of light— you’d be a fool to try and deny that he wasn’t gorgeous. Tanned skin, blonde hair— his eyes were like rubies almost, his body lean and well cut.
Looking at him now makes you suck your lower lip between your teeth and you can feel the way your boyfriend’s watching you as you fidget slightly to rub your thighs together, as if to quell the sudden heat that you can feel growing between them. But you feel his hand come to rest on your waist a moment later and he finally urges you to chime into the conversation with a “Well?”
It’s not like Alhaitham’s insecure in your relationship either, he’s more than confident in the pleasure he’s able to pull from you and the amount of times he’s had you spread out beneath him account for that. But still, he’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable with— so if you decide against it, he’ll gladly kick his roommate out of his home so that he can see to whatever needs you have himself.
And that reassurance alone makes you smile as you look up at him.
"I don't mind, Kaveh. If... if something like that will make you feel better then." You look back towards Kaveh next, who’s already looking at you and you don’t know if he’s gawking or half expecting you both to start laughing. Maybe both at once as his eyes widen at you now, "I don't mind you using me for it. We're friends, right?"
Right— Friends.
Kaveh swallows, and then he quickly pushes himself to stand and for the first time since you’ve met— you feel like you can’t meet his gaze as he takes his first careful step closer to you. It was quite unlike him to be so quiet, and maybe that’s what makes it all worse. You’re still resting quite comfily in Alhaitham’s lap, and even if you were to try to move— you’re not sure he’d let you with how tight his arm seems to be resting around your waist.
So you wait there, until the architect’s soft footsteps bring him to stand opposite the both of you and Alhaitham helps you this time as you turn around to face him— until you’re resting your back up against your boyfriend's chest and feel him spread his thighs to make room for you between them.
There’s another beat of silence before he finally speaks again,
"Did he put you up to this?" Kaveh takes an uneven breath as he asks, motioning to Alhaitham behind you and despite the way he tries to laugh with his question, the undercurrent of nervousness seems to make it come out as more of a sigh.
You shake your head, remaining quiet despite the way your arousal is making you warm and the blonde’s sudden close proximity isn’t doing anything to help that either. Your thoughts have taken the potential scenario and already begun running with it, and you’re sure your boyfriend is already beginning to pick up on your growing impatience when he squeezes his arm around you.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you, Alhaitham? Just how close are you going to let me get before you make fun of me?" Kaveh asks again as his pretty features pull into another frown, but he still doesn’t seem to put any distance between you both.
Alhaitham picks up on that too as he responds to his taunt quite neutrally, "I don't know what you mean, I'm not stopping you. After all, weren't you the one who said you were better suited for my position?"
The silence settles over the three of you again with Alhaitham’s question and you watch the way Kaveh seems to drop his gaze to think, as if he’s going over the proposal in his mind a million times before coming to a decision. But then his gaze lifts to look at you,
"Hmph, I didn't mean it like this." He mumbles, but then he takes a deep breath and his shoulders seem to relax a bit. "Whatever."
Kaveh takes another half a step closer, as his eyes hold you there — and the pretty colour of them makes you rock back into Alhaitham despite the way it makes something in your stomach stir. His voice drops to something softer, gentle when he addresses you, as it always does. "Are you, um... okay with this? You don't have to do this just because Alhaitham said so."
His question makes you smile as you blink back at him, allowing yourself the moment to admire the intricacies of his features while he's leaning in to look at you closely. Kaveh has always been gorgeous, kind but even now — you can’t help but appreciate the sort of person he really was, and you’re glad that someone like him is who Alhaitham chooses to surround himself with.
You offer him a reassuring nod as you let yourself rock back against your boyfriend's chest a little more, "I'm okay with it."
“Fine then.” And with that, Kaveh eventually relents before he’s letting his figure fall to his knees, bringing himself to be just below level with you, and you feel the way the movement makes your boyfriend exhale a breath along your shoulder. It makes you shudder as you find yourself almost instinctively spreading your thighs to make room for him, and it’s hard for the architect to not let his eyes immediately drop to the skin that’s between them when you reach forward to bunch up your dress.
“Ready?” Alhaitham asks you, as if he’s giving you another opportunity to back out when his palm comes to rest on the inside of your thigh from behind. His fingers tap as you take a breath, and his roommate opposite you stills until you’re able to stutter out a response.
“Yes, I’m ready.” You answer, and your boyfriend’s hand pulls at your inner thigh in that same moment, until you’re spread out on his lap and positioning your thighs to rest over the top of his. You feel immediately exposed as you feel the cool air roll over your too warm skin— it’s like you’re being served up on a grand table like a meal, and there’s something in Kaveh’s gaze that seems to feel the same way as you watch the tips of his ears begin to flush.
But still, he’s looking at you like he’s a man who's been starved for years and he’s about to have his first, real taste of good food again.
There’s a moment of silence between the three of you as Alhaitham holds you close, but it’s only for a moment before Kaveh’s palm comes to rest on the opposite thigh to push — helping to hold you open. You feel yourself begin to burn at the way it makes your arousal spark beneath your skin, and you’re feeling particularly flustered already as you watch the way the architect admires the damp spot in your panties.
Kaveh takes another breath, and then he shuffles himself closer from where he’s resting on his knees. “If you’re sure about this. Well…” There’s still a hesitance to his words, but it seems to break off into something quieter, needier when his fingers squeeze into your skin. “Friends, right?”
You stiffen as you watch your boyfriend’s roommate lean forward, but you soften almost immediately when you feel him press a quick kiss against your clothed pussy, exhaling against the warm press of the intimate skin like it’s the first breath he’s taken in days.
But the sound that leaves you is almost humiliating when he pushes even deeper into you next, letting his tongue tease along the damp fabric of your underwear and pressing into the swollen bump of your clit, all while Alhaitham holds you in place for him on his lap. Your thighs and hips quake, as do your lungs when you try to manage a staggered inhale— but you feel like you can barely breathe beneath Kaveh’s movements, feeling the way he’s drinking you up, tongue rolling and curling through your folds so expertly you wouldn't believe there was still a layer between you both.
You’d never imagined Kaveh would feel like this, not that it was something you imagined often — but it still came as quite a surprise. It’s true you’d never seen him date much at all, nevermind heard him even mention prior intimate experiences— but with the way he’s working you right now, you can barely believe he’s even single at all.
You're jolted from your thoughts by a particularly wet smear of Kaveh’s mouth against you until you feel yourself trembling, and Alhaitham knows you’re already close as he curls himself around you from behind. The movement lets you feel the heavy press of his half-hard cock against your lower back, closely followed by the smear of his lips along the shell of your ear. “Any thoughts? Seems like you’re getting quite worked up.” He sighs, deliberately along the sensitive parts of you.
Your boyfriend’s words take on a familiar, teasing drawl— it’s one he’s used on you before, normally when he’s got you buried beneath him on the mattress or just about creaming around the press of three of his fingers, but the tone makes you swallow as you try to turn your head to look at him.
Though the call is quickly cut off by Kaveh’s voice as he mutters up at you both from between your thighs, “Oh, would you butt out, Alhaitham.” The sound quivers through your pussy, like a pleasurable vibration that makes your head drop back to moan and your body jolt as you meet the blonde’s gaze for a moment. He’s flushed to his chest and his hair is mused from his efforts, but you think he looks like something out of a wet dream when the lower half of his face and cheeks are already slick with his own spit and your arousal.
You wonder if he notices the way it makes you even wetter,
“And why would I do that?” Alhaitham cuts off your eye contact with his response, and he deliberately rocks himself into you— pushing more of his roommate’s mouth even deeper between your thighs until you both moan. Though it’s closely followed by the press of Kaveh’s fingertips hooking beneath the fabric of your underwear, before he begins to finally provide you with some relief and pull them to the side.
Your arousal makes you glisten, clinging to the soaked fabric as it's pulled out of his way and it’s quite clear to see the almost proud look on Kaveh’s features as he admires it, then looks up at your boyfriend a moment later.
“See!? I told you.” He almost glows from where he’s still kneeling between your spread thighs, “Take a good look, Alhaitham.” And if you weren’t in such a state you think you’d end up giggling— if not at the blonde’s amusement then definitely at Alhaitham’s deliberate silence in response to it. But your boyfriend doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, in fact he just opts to leave the spread of your thighs to his roommate as he frees up both of his hands instead.
“You seem more surprised than I am.” He eventually opts to say with a hint of sarcasm, well-timed with the way Kaveh’s tongue finally presses back against the now exposed skin of your folds, cutting through the glistening petals as he suckles and smacks at the mess. And you can’t help but arch back into Alhaitham at the movement, an opportunity which he seizes quite eagerly to grab and palm at your breasts as he takes one into his hand slowly. His movements are precise, twisting and flicking at the raised skin of your nipples through your dress until you’re whimpering so greedily for something more.
Lucky for him, you hadn’t opted for a bra today. After all— you were just having a date indoors.
“Better?” Alhaitham breathes against your jawline as he touches you, and you feel the way his teasing question makes Kaveh grumble between your folds, like he’s claiming you needed his touch to feel such pleasure.
But before the blonde can even pipe up and complain about it, your boyfriend’s free hand reaches forward to wrap itself in his roommate’s already tousled hair, and he uses it as leverage to bury him even deeper into your pussy. He turns his attention to him for a moment as he sends him a narrowed look and a whisper of a smirk, and you think the expression on Kaveh’s face as he blinks up at you both makes you begin to throb, “You seem to be putting that mouth to much better use now than you were a moment ago, Kaveh.”
You can feel yourself growing closer, and that alone urges you to turn to meet Alhaitham as you find your hands grabbing to scratch at his muscled forearm. It’s a movement he goes unaffected by, long fingers seemingly unphased by your hands as they clasp gently around one of your nipples before he pulls, and the spark of your orgasm is so close you feel lightheaded. At the same time, Kaveh is going between circling his tongue around your clit and pressing it in and out of your cunt, groaning at the way he can feel your walls squeeze and tremble around the muscle, but also at the way your body squelches as he slurps at the slick his movements seem to press out.
He’s so close up against you, he can barely breathe as Alhaitham holds him there— but he still can’t help but only want to press even deeper as he drinks in your reactions, swallowing loudly as he feels his own cock begin to leak precum against his clothes.
Your lips part to moan, but it’s covered up quite quickly by the sudden press of Alhaitham’s lips against yours, urging you to murmur out his name as he kisses you, messy and driven by the way Kaveh’s mouth is wrapped around you all while he watches. The realisation of all of it makes you feel terribly overwhelmed, and you can feel your boyfriend press more of his clothed cock against your lower back as he licks into your mouth.
“I’m gonna cum.” You try to manage against the heat of the kiss and the movement of Kaveh’s mouth against your cunt, shaking into your boyfriend’s chest before he opts to pull away to admire you. Your chest is rising and falling with every shaky breath you’re struggling to take, and it’s all made so much worse when you feel Kaveh close his mouth around your clit to suckle.
Though it’s only for one, too short moment— seconds from your orgasm, before the hand in his blonde hair is tightening just enough to urge him off of you with a wet pop.
“Anddd, I think we’ve seen more than enough now.” Alhaitham hums from where he rests behind you and it’s almost immediately that you watch Kaveh’s blown features pull into a pretty, flushed frown. The expression he’s wearing makes you whimper a bit, kicking out your feet at the loss of not only your orgasm, but the warmth of his mouth as you feel your boyfriend’s arm snake it’s way back around your waist.
“Are you kidding me, Alhaitham?” Kaveh grumbles exasperatedly, “You’re just being selfish.” It’s quite obvious that he was enjoying himself as much as you seemed to be. But maybe that's the exact reason that Alhaitham’s taking great satisfaction in teasing him like this,
“How am I to blame for your shortcomings, might I ask, Kaveh?” He taunts the blonde before you, who’s furiously trying to readjust his shirt from where it’s tousled over his chest slightly — revealing more of the tanned, smooth muscle as you shamelessly let your eyes trace the valleys of his skin. “Afterall, I gave you more than an ample amount of time to get the job done.”
Alhaitham’s words are again matter-a-fact, but they mostly come from a place of knowing (given the right technique) how quickly he could make you cum himself. Yet here you are, still wound up and needy, and he think’s that's more of a fault on Kaveh’s part that anyone else's. So he waves his hand at his roommate again as the blonde gives him another sharp look from his knees, “Yet you still came up short. Seems I'm not the one to blame after all.”
And maybe it’s his own arousal that makes him barely able to argue back as he only stutters out a strained, “You—“
But then your voice calls suddenly, and the silence that falls over the two men on opposite sides of you almost makes you shake. “Haitham?”
"Yes?" Alhaitham answers to you intently as he turns his head towards you again, meeting your gaze from over your shoulder as you watch the way his features seem to almost immediately soften. It makes you shimmy yourself a little closer before you’re bringing up one of your hands to cover your mouth and whispering something ineligible from where Kaveh is kneeling, like you’re leaving him out of a secret exchange.
It makes him grumble to himself as he watches you both, and if he wasn’t so painfully hard and sweating profusely in his clothes right now, he’d leave you both to it. But for some reason, he can’t find it in himself to look away from you either.
It’s like he can see why your boyfriend dotes over you so much.
Kaveh watches the way Alhaitham listens carefully to whatever you’re whispering to him, smoothing his fingers along your skin from where they rest against your body while you speak, and holding you close in a way that almost makes something beneath his own skin sting. Another moment, and you pull away again to share a look but with the next, Alhaitham kisses you.
It’s a different sort of kiss to the one’s he’s seen you both share before; it’s messier, deeper — possessive in a way, like Alhaitham’s staking his claim over you and it seems almost uncharacteristic of his usual lax attitude. But Kaveh watches the way you curl into the warmth of his roommate’s lips and body, watches you twist in his lap so he can curl you closer with his strength and you let out a little whine as you both breathe deeply into the other's lips.
He can almost see the way your tongue’s are pressing up against each other between your breaths, something so consuming, suffocatingly passionate and heated that it makes him feel suddenly too warm beneath his own shirt again and he has to ground himself with an exhale. The sight makes him swallow loudly and he almost reaches to press his palm into the bulge of his cock— to quell the insistent throb that seems to be settling there despite how it may look. But before he can— Alhaitham opens his eyes to look at him, with a narrowed sort of sharp look before the kiss is breaking wet and he’s following it up with a quick peck against your swollen lips and a shrug, “I guess that’s fine.”
And then you’re suddenly turning yourself back around to face Kaveh again, a little more dazed and kiss drunk this time.
Your finger points softly to the noticeable tent in his pants, but you don’t make him feel self conscious when your lips part, muttering. "Kaveh, you can... take it out if you want."
But Kaveh can barely get his words out fast enough to respond, "Wha.... really? You're sure?" You nod at his question, and he gives Alhaitham a look before he watches the Scribe turn away to look at you instead. Like he’s deciding it’s best for him not to chime in, but opting to not stop him either as he pushes himself back up to his feet.
He feels unsteady as he stands, blame it on the fact that most of the blood in his body has rushed to his cock right now, or the way he’s lightheaded from his own arousal. But he tries to take his time as he strips back the layers of his outfit, not wanting to seem too eager until he’s able to push down his pants, and he lets himself gasp at the first sting of sexual freedom the release gives him.
His cock is as gorgeous as you would expect, tanned shaft and a dark pink tip— paired perfectly with the blonde hair that gathers at the base and a few freckles and veins decorating along the length of him. He isn’t as thick as Alhaitham is, but he has an upwards tilt to him that almost makes you drool, pre-cum already gathering at the tip as it glistens in the dim lighting of the living room.
Kaveh feels himself flush beneath your attention as you watch him, wriggling in Alhaitham’s lap like you’re excited about it. But your boyfriend’s gaze is still on the side of your face, and he’s busying himself with stroking his fingertips up and down the length of your arm instead. It’s quite suspicious for him to be so quiet, but the blonde decides not to question it as he brings himself to stand closer to you again.
His fingertips brush against your thighs as he reaches out to touch you once more, trembling slightly as he allows himself to take a proper look between both you and then the slick petals of your pussy that await him.
Like you, Kaveh would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like this before. Afterall, he’s heard the sweet sounds that his roommate is able to pull from you behind the privacy of his bedroom door; the way your voice lilts into something prettier when you cum and that sweet little dazed look you always seemed to wear whenever you’d pad out of the room an hour or so later.
He’s not sure what he’d call it— admiration, amusement, jealousy? It’s hard for him to decide on an answer, and he’s not given enough time to either when Alhaitham suddenly clears his throat. His green eyes are giving him a look from where he seems to have dazed off staring at you, and the realisation makes Kaveh clear his own throat before he’s taking a slow fistful of his cock— opting to smile down at you instead before he’s lining himself up against your cunt.
“Well then, I guess this is happening. Are you ready?” His words waver as the blunt head strokes softly along your folds, and he’s watching the way even the slightest touch seems to make his cock glisten. You already feel soft as silk and even that small bout of friction makes his knees threaten to buckle completely as he tries to steady himself with a breath.
You give him a pretty look and a nod, but before Kaveh can finally sink himself into you, Alhaitham cuts him off—
"Whoa whoa whoa, let's not get too ahead of ourselves, shall we?" The Scribe’s voice calls from behind you as he hooks his chin over top of your shoulder, narrowing his gaze up at his blonde roommate while he gapes and frowns back down at him now. But you listen to him, shimmying yourself down a little lower until you’re spreading your thighs a little more and the shaft of Kaveh’s cock rests between the folds of your pussy this time.
Alhaitham hums like he’s happy with that, "Just like that is fine."
“Fine. Whatever you say, Alhaitham.” Kaveh’s in no position to argue with what he’s giving him after all, he’s been generous enough to let him do this to begin with. So he swallows before readjusting himself again, and he grounds his body by grabbing gently at your thighs to keep you spread.
You’re already soaked as he presses his cock up against you, rubbing it along your slick folds and leaning enough of his weight onto you that it only presses you even closer into Alhaitham’s chest. The first silky grind of the length of him splits through you before catching on your clit, making you both gasp and moan at the wet tacky sound that follows and Kaveh has to take a breath for a moment as he squeezes his eyes closed. Trying not to cum too soon.
But it seems your audience isn’t going to let him away with that so easily.
"Need some help?" Alhaitham goads from where he’s back to stroking at your skin, fingertips dancing up the valley of your ribs and cupping at your tits as he gives Kaveh a taunting sort of look.
It makes him scoff, "N... no! I was just giving her a break, that's all!" Though he’s not sure how convincing he sounds when his voice breaks slightly— weighed down beneath his own arousal and the throb in his cock.
It makes Alhaitham scoff, "How kind of you. There's no rush afterall."
"I know that! It's called empathy Alhaitham, you should try having some!" Kaveh’s voice raises unsteadily, but the frown on his features doesn’t seem to hold much malice when he’s so flushed and stricken with pleasure.
"Actually I think my generosity right now far makes up for that." Alhaitham gives him a narrowed, lidded look before he presses his head into you, and that seems to be enough to end the argument when Kaveh breaks away from his gaze. He looks at you instead when your legs curl up around his waist, pulling him closer as he pushes the shaft of his cock even tighter up against the warm press of your folds– and he feels them wrap around him so invitingly it makes his hips jerk.
Kaveh opts to lean over you this time as he presses his palm into the plush back of the sofa, sandwiching you between him and Alhaitham as he allows himself to be pulled even deeper into the desperate hug of your cunt. You’re already whining when he draws his hips back, a languid and slow movement that makes you almost cry out when he rolls them back into you again a second later— desperately rubbing your slick along his throbbing cock as he tries hard to meet your gaze.
But Alhaitham seems to be stealing all of your attention away for himself as he presses ticklish kisses up the column of your throat from behind, hugging himself into you from where he’s letting his best friend rub his cock between your legs. All while you sit on your boyfriend’s lap.
So he opts to meet Kaveh’s gaze instead, and he looks almost smug when he does.
"Are you really just going to tease me while you watch, Alhaitham?" The blonde over you trembles as he lets his cock glide through your folds again, letting himself hump against you as each withdrawal of his hips makes a loud, wet sound. It’s hard to take him seriously as he coats his shaft in a mess of your slick and his spit, but it still feels like the Scribe is teasing him by not letting him really feel the tight squeeze of your walls.
He just shrugs again. "Actually, I have something far more important to attend to.” And Kaveh has to watch as he takes another slow handful of your tits through your dress, back to swiping his thumb across the pebbled press of your nipples until it almost makes you shake. It’s Alhaitham’s name you moan when your lips part, and he can see the smug little smile on his lips when he hears it. "Though if I'm not mistaken, it seems your pity from earlier was misplaced. Since someone seems to quite enjoy my understanding of intimacy and romance."
Alhaitham leans in a bit closer as he lets his voice, lips and teeth tease along the shell of your ear. But his gaze holds Kaveh’s as he palms at you– groping at your tits as his thumb circles the fabric of your dress again. “So feel free to apologise whenever you’re ready.”
That makes his blonde roommate scoff before he’s suddenly picking up the pace of his hips, like he’s got a point to prove as he mutters out a response, "Oh please, I didn't think it would end up l-like this, did I."
But Kaveh isn't an idiot, he can feel the way Alhaitham’s movements are only making you wetter and urging you to pull him even closer with every grope of his hands as your heels dig into his lower back— so despite his pride, he opts to give in… if only for your sake. "Keep doing that to her." He watches your body rise up into your boyfriend’s palms, long fingers pressing around your nipples to squeeze and he feels the way it makes you shudder.
“Oh? So you do need my help afterall.” Alhaitham chuckles, but the feeling of your pussy against Kaveh’s cock is so hot and aching, he doesn’t care. It feels like he’s burning up in the best way, and his roommate can see that quite clearly too as he relents. “Well, you only had to ask, Kaveh.”
“S-shutup, It’s for her sake, alright?” He lets himself rut into you harder as Alhaitham’s touch steadies you, he can feel you getting wetter beneath him with every thrust of his cock through your folds and for the first time when he turns to look at you, you meet him with your own blown gaze as you stir beneath him.
“It feels good, Kaveh.” Your words break into a whisper, and the tone you say his name in makes his pace stutter almost dangerously as he feels your clit graze along the sensitive underside of his cock, making him to press into you harder. Kaveh’s burning up, he feels like he can barely breathe— even as his roommate watches him hump his cock against his girlfriend’s cunt— he doesn’t care, you feel too good. He’s making a mess of the space between your thighs as his cock desperately drools precum along your skin, but it only helps to further ease his movements as he rubs himself up against you.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Kaveh.” Alhaitham huffs, but then he grunts with the next particularly sharp thrust of Kaveh’s hips and it makes you purr. Afterall, how could anyone be able to resist the feeling of your ass constantly grinding up against the press of the hard cock behind you. It’s simply natural for him to be close himself despite the way he’s barely been touched— but he’s far too preoccupied playing with you to care anyway, and it was to be expected that his girlfriend could get him into such a state.
Kaveh gives him a sharp look at his words, but he can’t argue back at all when he feels goosebumps begin to burst along his skin.
Then you gasp, head lolling back against Alhaitham’s shoulder as he rolls at your tits and the next eager press of Kaveh’s shaft against your folds makes you stiffen— legs squeezing tight around his waist as the blonde grits his teeth. “Kaveh, you’re gonna make me cum!”
And your voice breaks into something beautiful as you do, shaking between the two men that hold you and it’s closely followed by another groan from Alhaitham behind you as he gives into his own orgasm– making a mess of his slacks as he ruts his hips up into your ass. The stuttered movement seems to angle your hips up a bit more than planned, but it’s just enough for Kaveh to accidentally slip the tip of his cock inside of you— making you both gasp as you squeeze and cream around the head of his cock, and he treats himself with a short thrust deeper before he’s barely able to pull back in time.
“Just… Just, Ugh—” He’s already mourning the tease of your warm walls trembling around him before his hips jerk, and Kaveh cums with a tight lipped moan of your name as his load lands messily across your skin, painting your body in his seed as his own crumbles beneath the weight of his orgasm. It’s dizzying, how pretty you look beneath him— fluttering lashes and parted lips as more of your cream catches on the shaft of his cock and he presses up against you in a way that makes the blonde sway as he rides out his high.
He feels completely wrecked when he finds it in himself to stumble away from you both, and you give him a cute, satisfied look before curling your way back into Alhaitham— who’s looking equally as wrecked with the now soiled fabric in his slacks bothering him. Kaveh watches the way the stickiness makes him fidget.
The three of you let the silence rest for a while longer as you catch your breath, and your boyfriend moves to pull your underwear back into place before pushing back down the fabric of your dress and pulling you deeper into his chest. It urges you to rest your head into the crook of his neck as you turn to face him, and you share a quick kiss as Kaveh begins to straighten out his clothes again, unable to break his gaze away from you as he does.
Alhaitham is the first to speak as he urges his roommate to look away from you.
“Hm, dare I say I’m actually impressed, Kaveh. Seems whatever you were spouting earlier wasn’t just empty rhetoric afterall.” His voice scratches slightly as he addresses him, no doubt still coming down from his own still lingering pleasure.
But the blonde only just finishes smoothing down his shirt before the compliment makes him freeze in disbelief, “Wha? Really?”
“Oh? You sound surprised.”
Kaveh barely manages one of his prettier frowns to respond again, “Maybe it’s because you’ve never said anything good about me before. So excuse me for feeling like you don’t really mean that.” But he does find it in himself to scoff this time, watching you fidget against your boyfriend’s chest before you’re cracking an eye open to look at him– and he’s pretty sure he can see you smiling as they bicker back and forth.
“And what makes you think I’m not just speaking on someone else’s behalf?” Alhaitham quips back, motioning towards you in his arms and if Kaveh wasn’t still coming down from his orgasm, he’d put up more of a fight than he is right now as he pulls up his pants again. Hissing as he tucks his now softening cock back behind the fabric.
“Are we forgetting I’m your senior? You really should show me a little respect, Alhaitham. A compliment won’t kill you.” The blonde scoffs as he runs a trembling hand through his hair, grumbling when he takes in the mess of the braid, but before Alhaitham can respond back again— you’re making your first attempt to move. Your boyfriend is quick to grab your hand to steady you as he helps you stand but because of who Kaveh is— he can’t help but want to reach out too.
“Hey, do you need me to help clean you up?” He asks kindly, taking in the damp spots on your dress that are most likely due to being soiled in his cum.
But Alhaitham only lures you back against his chest when he stands up behind you, beginning to guide you in the general direction of the bathroom as he finds his own now soiled slacks to be quite uncomfortable themselves. “I think I can handle that part on my own, Kaveh.” He opts to answer in your stead, but you still manage to give the blonde a sleepy, hormone-drunken smile before you’re taking unsteady little steps to follow your boyfriend down the hall.
Kaveh watches you both leave before Alhaitham turns to look at him again, his voice taking a more sincere tone than it has all day.
“But it’s nice to know you’re feeling more relaxed. So feel free to actually get some rest for once.”
oh my gosh um. hi vana... ( °ヮ° ) ? HI VANA?!?!?! (ó﹏ò｡) i can't believe you just posted this like it was nothing. like it wasn't about to completely alter the trajectory of my life. i can't believe this is my fifth time reading this and i'm even More affected by it than the first time i read it. okay oh my goodness i am feeling so #Floshed after reading this /POS. okay wait. OKAAAAY! VANA. noooooo. nooooooidsfjoaji!!!! NO 😭 my hands are legitimately shaking (COCO GET HELP...) i know i sent you an ask about that line... and in retrospect i sounded very insane in that ask (what the freak did i say about. aliens. LOLLA*R(_@Y&K) but also i might sound even more insane in my comments here so i do apologise in advance <33 thank you for putting up with me <333
first of all though before i begin to proper ramble i would just like to say that. HALLO HI YAYAYAY HOORAY FOR VANA HAITHAM FIC WRITING RENAISSANCE & CONGRATULATIONS ON KAVEH FIC WRITING AWAKENING. 🥳🎊🍾 babie you already know that i just love the way you write for Anyone at all because if there's one thing you should know about vana... is that she's always going to have the Correctest Characterisations 🫶 whatever dialogue she writes is bible 🫶 so true 🫶
and on top of that... your writing is so. so!! visually and emotionally evocative... besides the fact i quite literally feel like i can slip myself into reader's shoes and feel like i am there (which is something that is usually quite difficult for me 🥺 so... for me to say this is really a testament to your abilities as an author!! SOBBLES VANA YOU ARE JUST THE BESTEST)... besides that fact. oh man. oh myaaaan. it needs to be researched how Viscerally i reacted to this fic lol... how my heart raced when i realised the insinuation of haitham's comment. how i started to tear up at kaveh's hesitance and his tendency to dote on us. how my heart dropped and my * Throbbed when you wrote that very first kiss he gave us through our panties (<- i can't believe i'm writing this. ALALAOKKD IM GOING TO LIGHT UP THE SKY LIKE A FIREWORK). i wish i could live inside your beautiful brain and see all the beautiful thoughts you have firsthand because vana babie this was truly just so incredibly captivating — it didn't even feel like i was reading 7k+ words!!!!
i know how much effort you put into this and i'm so happy and lucky and grateful to be able to read this 🥺 i really do hope you open a ko-fi someday because i feel so guilty every time i read Anything you post like... this... for me... for... Free?!?!? :C that cannot be legal :C WAH!!! thank you for creating such an amazing panty-dropping orgasm-inducing work of art and sharing it with us 🥺🥺 just... WAAAH. I LOVE YOU VANA!!! 💗💖💘💗💓💝💕💞💗💘💓💖💘💕💕💝💞💗💞💓
He’d always gush about how grateful he was that you came into not only his, but Alhaitham’s life – claiming that you helped to loosen and soften him up a bit, though both of you know that the Scribe would never admit that himself.
vana i think you were really diabolical for this /aff. actually. ACTUALLY!!! the way you wrote kaveh so sweet... so unassuming... throughout the entirety of this fic... the way he is so close with reader and haitham makes me feel like this whole scenario you've crafted for this fic was just a ticking time bomb ASDFGHJKL... it was only a matter of time before haitham had to force his hand and make both kaveh and himself come to terms with deeply improper deeply buried feelings....... AAAAAHHHHHHHH.... so diabolical i tell you.... /aff.......
And as much as you loved that part of him, the selfless and adorable part, you can't help but find yourself worrying. Even just looking at him now makes you bury yourself into Alhaitham's chest a little more from where you’re resting next to him on the couch. His arm is resting quite snugly around your waist and he seems to pick up on the inner workings of your brain quite quickly as he lets his gaze drop to you.
LIKE HI.... DOES THIS NOT AMOUNT TO SOME SORT OF EVIDENCE..... perhaps i am just very easily made scandalised LOLKJR#(_* but how haitham and reader are soooo open to pda in front of kaveh...... so what i'm gathering is that a) haitham is trying to get a rise out of kaveh, or b) haitham just doesn't care (it's His house after all), or c) haitham secretly wants get freaky with you and kaveh together and this is his way of initiating it. or d) all of the above. i am leaning towards the last option LOL
Despite the implication of his words, Alhaitham seems to look as unbothered by this conversation as always. Which in turn only leaves the both of you, gaping and glancing between him and each other before you turn your whole body around to face your boyfriend.
HASFIJRFONP HE IS SOOO UNBOTHERED THE FACT HE IS SO UNBOTHERED BY IT I JUST KNOW HE ANTICIPATED THIS MOMENT COMING. SOONER OR LATER. i dunno.... that's like. really very hot to me AAAACK. 😵💫😵💫😵💫 the way he is so all-knowing and acts like this is nothing. how it puts both kaveh and reader off-kilter. the fact he has the upper hand here ouuuff. OOF. OOOOOF. sorry it's too early to cum. BUT I WANT TO..... THAT IS SOOOO HOT. YOU HAVE CREATED SUCH A DELICIOUS DYNAMIC BETWEEN ALL THREE INDIVIDUALS HERE VANA I JUST. WOW. I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!
His words are followed by his hand coming up to softly graze along your cheek, and you would think he just answered all of your questions with a single movement with the way you lean into it.
His voice drops to something softer, gentle when he addresses you, as it always does. "Are you, um... okay with this? You don't have to do this just because Alhaitham said so."
THESE TWO PASSAGES AAAAUUUHGHH JUST. KILL ME ALREADY. IM ALREADY DEAD — ACTUALLY. kaveh and haitham are both sooooooooo so so sweet on the reader in such different ways; kaveh being genuine with his tenderness and haitham being rather manipulative / condescending with it... gossshhhhh. it's like the wolf x herding dog x lamb situation... and it's beautiful... YOUR MIND VANA I WOULD LIKE TO KISS IT PLEASE... IF YOU WOULD LET ME....
It’s a different sort of kiss to the one’s he’s seen you both share before; it’s messier, deeper — possessive in a way, like Alhaitham’s staking his claim over you and it seems almost uncharacteristic of his usual lax attitude.
vana you basically one-shotted me with this entire segment and everything after. haitham seeing just how good kaveh is making you feel without even having put his dick in you yet and getting agitated by it. AGITATED (unanticipated) BUT AS EQUALLY TURNED ON (anticipated) oooooufdihshaj i'm certain he wasn't expecting kaveh to make you nearly cum like that. i never thought haitham to be the jealous type but i DO strongly believe that he is possessive and you wrote that so masterfully here!!!! HOW IS ALMOST SEEMS UNCHARACTERISTIC OF HIS USUAL LAX ATTITUDE, YES!!!!!!!
"Whoa whoa whoa, let's not get too ahead of ourselves, shall we?"
sorry i dunno why i whined Out Loud at this piece of dialogue AAHSJDKHUEisdol40=AAUUUUUGUGHF(3034U* 🙈🙈 haitham.... you're slipping........ where's that nonchalance of yours you so proudly wear... awwiiieeeee are you feeling a bit angry..... so cute... it's sooooo cute this line!!!!!! ): i don't know ): something about haitham getting so Worked Up by seeing how affected we are by kaveh that makes me wanna pinch his cheeks ): so cute ): AAUUGH
it’s closely followed by another groan from Alhaitham behind you as he gives into his own orgasm– making a mess of his slacks as he ruts his hips up into your ass.
WHAT WAS THE THING I SAID ABOUT ALIENS TO YOU... please wait i will go find that ask and screenshot to place here
ASDGHD+E*NP*(_H*){r=8u HELP I DONT REMEMBER SAYING THIS IN SUCH A WAY AT ALL... BUT THE POINT STILL STANDS LOL!!! this entire segment had me gagged my jaw-dropped i probably leaked a little JKSHlaJ THIS IS SOOOOOO SEXY. vana babie you write smut so incredibly well and i'm always blown away by how you write it as often as you do but STILL do not repeat concepts or descriptions. AND how you so excellently weave characters' personalities into the dirty talk / their actions of how they fuck you... it's definitely not easy but you make it LOOK!! so easy... i am forever in awe of you!!!!! 🥺🥺
THIS WAS SUUUUUCH A FANTASTIC READ truly i am #Blessed to have eyes and to be able to read this, especially for free?! TT you're such an amazing storyteller and this entire scenario played out so seamlessly... and i will always!! ALWAYS love the way you write so descriptively and how you evoke such intense emotions in me with your visual storytelling <3333 I AM SMOOOOOOOCHING your big beautiful brain please know you are one of my all time favourite writers on here and i love you so so much WAAAAH!!!!!!!
i just love you 🥺 thank you for a lovely fic 🥺 i love you!! i just said it but i wanted to say it again 🥺💗 i love you (and again) !!!!!!!!
^ hkvh x reader dynamic in this fic tbh heehee 🙈🙈🙈🙈
that's what they call men like him. kaiser is powerful, inked in vines and blue roses across his arm, a crown on the back of his hand. he appears before you when you close your eyes every night, without fail.
"miss me, angel?"
there's a soft tap of his finger against your knee, crowding himself between your legs.
"how do you always find me?"
in a glance, kaiser holds up a glittering golden string, as if it was conjured in thin air and but also there all along, all at once.
"we're connected, silly. don't you see?" he presses his body over yours now, shadowing over you, so much bigger and broader as he leans his hand against the headboard, his face just shy from yours, looping a strand of your hair over his fingers.
"you were always meant to be mine."
he says it with conviction. like a fact, something etched in stone at the beginning of the universe.
"you don't know me." you reason.
"i will." he proclaims. "i do. i remember you. i know you." his hands are on you now, gentle as ever but they burn with a searing heat. he leans back again to watch himself touch you, hands over the outside of your thighs, trailing up to your waist.
"you know me, too." he stalks over you like prey, like a predator that plays with its food before it devours it whole. but then he kisses you softly on the cheek, and you can't help but wonder -- are predators this gentle? is he really one, if he treats you so tenderly?
"i could remind you, if you want." his breath ghosts over your ear, a whisper of something greater. his mouth descends down to your neck, hands lifting up the bottom edge of your shirt. "is that what you want?"
these hands that hold you, that cradle you with familiarity. you want to know. you want to remember.
"yes," you tell him, arching into his touch. "yes."
info: prince!kaiser x f!reader, enemies to lovers, fantasy au, arranged marriage, eventual smut. afab reader w she/her pronouns. reader has an established backstory and is not weak, reader’s appearance is nondescript. reader calls him “mihya” as they get closer. oliver and karasu are bffs in this lol. maybe some angst if you squint. happy ending!! plot is balanced with comedic moments.
synopsis: You will be killed by the one you love most. That line from his prophecy has haunted Kaiser his whole life. Against it all, you stand before him. Will you be the one to rewrite fate itself?
word count: 14k (please don’t let this scare you, i promise my writing is efficient)
a/n: this might be my magnum opus, i promise i poured my best dialogue and writing into this and it shows. if you consider reading like so seriously i will love you forever. also the smut is huge just like his cock <3 or my heart
Kaiser has been forsaken thrice fold. First, by his parents. His mother is said to be a beautiful woman that captured the hearts of all. His father could not bear her ultimate betrayal: leaving, causing him to wither away to nothing.
Kaiser guesses that this aspect of her runs in his blood after all.
The second and third time he is forsaken happen at once.
On the night that Kaiser is, by royal decree, anointed successor to the throne, he does as tradition dictates. He approaches the golden temple at the top of a mountain and mirrors the prophet within, sitting cross-legged in front of them.
The prophet gazes into the distance. And then, like a man possessed, they speak.
Lone Emperor who covets the throne,
You will be killed by the one you love most.
Kaiser swears he feels even his heart stop at that. Cold rushes through him, the chill of it colder than anything he had felt at the front lines of war.
Forsaken by all the Gods —
The prophet stops, staring into the distance with a frown.
The silence is deafening. Noa, despite tradition, interrupts the ceremony and approaches the prophet, clicking his fingers in front of their face.
“The prophecy?”
The prophet’s eyes widen with fear. “I- I cannot.”
“What, are you afraid?” Kaiser scoffs. “The prophecy is bad as it is, it can’t get much worse than that.”
“No, I mean I cannot. The — the Fates! They’ve stopped speaking to me!”
“Excuse me?” Kaiser’s scowl is evident, and Noa swears that in any other situation, Kaiser would’ve moved for his sword and set his blade ablaze.
It speaks volumes that all he does is stare right at the prophet, fear barely contained in his eyes.
The prophet grips at Noa’s hand, forcing his gaze. “My lord, please believe me. This — in the history... it has never happened before. I swear it.”
Noa whistles, and the guards outside come rushing in. “Seize them,” he commands, and they stare at each other for a moment.
To seize and capture that which is considered holy? Is that not blasphemy?
Noa cares little, almost removing his sword from his sheath to do it himself. “What are you all waiting for?”
“My lord! I swear to you!” The prophet grapples towards Noa in spite of their hands being held behind their back, the guards barely catching them from falling to their knees. “The fact that I would admit this at all shows my loyalty to you!” The prophet gasps, breath coming fast.” I could have pretended, could have given a false prophecy. I did not. That’s the choice I made. That is all the proof you need.”
It’s convincing enough that Noa hesitates, taking a deep breath in. But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar.
At that sight, Noa makes a single motion with his hand for the prophet to be taken away.
The room clears.
“Kaiser, I —”
Whatever comforting remark Noa might have made dies in his throat, because Kaiser laughs, a bitter and broken sound, that he would in the future rarely have his walls down to ever reveal again. He hides his eyes behind his hand and he laughs.
“Of course, my prophecy would come to something like this.” He drags his hand down across his face. “Forsaken by all the Gods.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Noa says it with conviction, and it’s enough for Kaiser to face him.
“Master?”
“You will still be the successor to the throne. As is your destiny.”
“My destiny?” Kaiser jabs a thumb to the now-empty seating. “We just heard my destiny.”
“What the gods have declared has nothing to do with me. I declare you the next to rule. That is all.”
Noa presses a hand to the crown of Kaiser’s head. “No one will know what transpired here. A tragic prophecy is a given. It is meant to be a trial of sorts, after all. Mine, too, was unpleasant. Though not nearly as dire.”
“What was yours?”
Noa breathes in deeply. “A twisted rivalry with a twisted man. One that was to be all-consuming to me.”
Kaiser scoffs. “A rivalry. Just train and win.”
Noa lets the comment pass, staring out of the temple and past the mountains. “The rivalry came and went. At the time, I felt it was the worst. I could not eat, sleep, or breathe without the thought of what he would do next on my mind. But I was lucky, that it passed.”
He motions for Kaiser to take his arm, bringing him back up to standing. “Yours will pass too, I’m sure of it.”
Kaiser waves his hand, gesturing at Noa to let go of him. It’s easy to say, easy to have faith when it is not your life that balances on the precipice.
Forsaken thrice: once, by his parents. Another, by the Gods. And third, by his own future lover. Kaiser curses the Gods and the Weaver for such a fate, for something possibly worse than death is looming over him.
You will be killed by the one you love most. That line has haunted his very being to this day.
~
The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow.
The prophecy is on a need-to-know basis, and Kaiser has never been crueler. He trains, harder than ever. Enough that when an unmovable sword is found at the rocks of the ocean, he trains until he is able to pull it from the bank, wield it with one hand. Rumor has said it might take three men to carry, or that the night sky that shimmers across it is strong enough to kill even a god. His sole retrieval of it is proof to the people of his strength and stature, but compassion and love are rarely a topic of conversation with his name.
He focuses on his work. He does not take lovers. He barely sees others as friends. And he most certainly does not take a bride.
~
You appear before the throne and you do not bow. The scowl on Kaiser’s face at this says enough.
“You dare-”
“You have the sword.” You ignore Kaiser entirely, setting your sights completely on Noa.
The silence that follows is as large and wide as the ocean, but your gaze is sharp and keen, never faltering once until Noa speaks.
“Water sorceress,” Noa addresses you coldly, “or that’s what you told our people.”
“Yes.”
“You are not the only sorceress of water. Yet your power is second to none.” Noa stands, stepping down the stairs with heavy, thumping footfalls until he’s standing right in front of you. “They call you the water’s mistress, in the neighboring lands.”
“They do.”
He begins to circle you, like a hunter might before striking a deer. Standing next to you, his deep voice clear right next to your ear, he eyes you curiously. “They’re all wrong, aren’t they?”
You don’t answer. Noa takes that as answer enough.
“A power like that. Do you think me stupid?” He observes you, checks you visually for weapons, watches your hands to ensure you don’t call magic forth.
“Demigod.” He about spits the word from behind you, and yet all you do is tilt your head to catch him in your eye’s view.
“You are as well-informed as they say.”
“I am as logical as they come.”
“We are the same in that regard, then. So let’s get straight to the point.”
Noa returns back to the throne, seemingly satisfied with his observing, gesturing at you to continue.
“You have something belonging to me. A sword, heavier than most. Ancient, yet sharp. It is said to look like it contains a night sky.”
“The blade you’re speaking of was found by us, it is ours to keep.”
In the short silence that follows, Kaiser swears there must be irritation on your end, but you don’t show it. Instead, you take a deep breath in.
“The blade was thrown out of the heavens and spat out into this realm during a war between Gods.”
“Is that so? And how can you prove it’s yours?”
“I can wield it, unlike your people, who do not have the means to wield a sword as such.” You state simply.
Like rose grown blue, the impossible becomes possible. You can feel the divinity and the power that comes off the sword in waves the minute it’s unsheathed, your eyes widening. The ring of it is as familiar to you as your own skin, how could you not have felt its presence sooner? But Kaiser is fast, much faster than you expected, faster than he should be with a sword of that weight, that magnitude. Before you can turn your head, cold silver kisses your neck.
“This blade, sorceress?” He comes around from behind you, stalks around you just like his Master had, sword pointed like it may just draw blood from you at any moment. When you finally see his face, his sneer is wicked.
He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all.
“Say we return the sword to its rightful owner,” Noa calls back your attention, “what would you offer us in return?”
“Offer in return? This sword does not belong to you. It is returned, as it should be.”
“This sword, with its divinity, could harm even a god.” Kaiser presses the blade closer to your neck, gleaming metal against your skin. “It protects this nation. What if the gods forsake us? If we return it to you, what would protect us against them then?”
“For what reason would they do such a thing?”
Kaiser barks a laugh. “Of course, there would be no criticisms from one of them. Water sorceress, demigod. Tell us, who are you, truly? What do your people call you, up there? No matter.” He lowers the sword, but leaves it unsheathed, its heavy weight balanced in his palm. A threat that at any moment, he may change his mind. “Those titles mean nothing to me. I have been forsaken, demigod. So know, I trust not even the gods.”
You sigh. Foreseeing a troublesome future has its cons, you suppose. Your queen would smile if you told her such.
“You ask for something with power in equal to or more than the blade. You asked me for my titles. I shall give you both.” The sleeves of your dress shimmer as you move them, and it’s in this moment that Kaiser notices they are not sleeves but water itself, cradled around your wrists like armor. “The Gods had bestowed on me the title Sword Maiden, and I offer myself and my services to you until the end of your line.”
That shocks the room like a bucket of cold water.
You turn to Kaiser, who stands beside the throne. You step forward once, and water rushes underneath that step, descending in waves over the floor as if it goes through it, a magic they have never witnessed prior. “You say the Gods have forsaken you? Let my presence be proof to you that they still watch over you.”
Kaiser scowls, “What sort of cheap trick is this?”
“My domain is truth. I cannot lie.”
“Oh, please.”
Your eyes narrow at him. “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”
A goddess who cannot lie. Noa’s faith lies in logic, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His gaze flits between Kaiser and you before he seems to settle a decision in his mind.
“Until the end of Kaiser’s line.” Noa negotiates.
Kaiser’s gaze snaps to Noa. “You’re taking her up on this?”
You almost frown. “Fine.”
Noa quirks an eyebrow at you. “That simple?”
“Human lives move quickly.”
Kaiser eyes you curiously. “What happens when you lie?”
You blink at him. Once. Twice. Is that… almost a flustered look you have on?
He readjusts his grip on the blade. “Speak, sorceress.”
“Wh-What do you want me to say?!” You grip at your dress nervously, and that has him even more curious.
“I’m waiting here,” he sing-songs playfully.
“Before the lie can leave my voice, my neck swells up like a balloon, and chokes me.”
He smiles wickedly. “Demonstrate.”
Gods, if it wasn’t immoral, you could wring his neck right now.
You think, for even a moment, a simple lie. And in seconds, you’re almost suffocating on nothing, and Kaiser laughs. Laughs. A full laugh, bending at his knees.
“Oh gods, you’re like a pufferfish!”
You let go of the lie, taking heaving breaths. “Just because I have water capabilities does not mean I am a fish.”
In the midst of the conversation, Isagi leans against Noa’s side, a soft conversation full of worry.
“You’ll have to explain her presence to the council,” Isagi tells him, blue eyes wide with hesitation.
“Right, and your suggestion?”
“I have thought about it, considerably. If you say you hired her, with a force as powerful as her, the other nations may think you are to wage war. So… Given the heir’s… reputation,” Isagi’s gaze flits nervously between you and Kaiser. “If he is willing, she may be a good fit.”
Noa sighs. This, this exact theory, has been a conversation with the other members of his team for months. That a wife by his side would make him seem less chilling, make the transition to a new heir easier on the public, prevent outroar. It is one thing to feel that Kaiser keeps a nation safe, and another to love him as a ruler.
It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation.
“Kaiser.”
He whips around, ceasing his antics quickly. “Master.”
Noa looks like he is about to say something to him, but hesitates, turning to you instead. Isagi nervously steps away from the dais, returning to his position.
“Goddess,” this time, there is no malice behind Noa’s words. “I accept your offer. However, your presence in this nation and in this castle must be explained appropriately. Should I bear you the title of my successor’s betrothed, would that be a title you’re willing to bear?”
Kaiser’s back straightens. “Excuse me?” he utters low.
“You do not have to bear children,” he specifies. “And you do not have to truly be wed.”
A goddess, to be betrothed to a mortal, as princely as he is, is a serious affair. Kaiser slides his gaze to Isagi, with the audacity to even suggest such. And yet, you seem to ponder it like a simple question.
“I see. As long as the sword is in my presence and protection, how you communicate with your nation is none of my concern.”
“So be it, then,” Noa agrees quickly. “I’ll have our people show you to a room.”
You nod, and are whisked away. The throne room, as if knowingly, empties quickly, guards rushing out to leave Kaiser alone with Noa.
“You made this decision for me,” Kaiser spins to face Noa, spits his words through gritted teeth. “I have been clear. I will take no brides.”
“You believe the prophecy made a choice for you.”
“The prophecy bears no mercy. Or do you wish for my death so eagerly? If so, take your sword out and do it your damn self.”
Noa lets him speak, heave his words out until there’s silence once more.
“She cannot lie,” Noa says softly. “She cannot lie to you, Kaiser. And she is a goddess, a divine being.”
“Demigod,” Kaiser corrects.
“She is divine, and she cannot lie. She is correct, to this end – that as long as she is here, the prophecy cannot come to be. For she has not forsaken us.” Forsaken you, goes unspoken. “She could be good for you, if you allowed her to be.”
Kaiser lets out a canned laugh. “Ha. How can the divine ever understand us?”
Noa stands. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”
Kaiser taps his hand against his sword hilt. “You really will not move on this?”
Noa shakes his head. “She is too valuable to lose, and you have a reputation for cruelty. The solution is nothing short of perfect.”
The logical comes above his feelings. Kaiser knows this, even if he hates to come face to face with it.
Noa walks out of the throne room, leaving Kaiser to his bitterness.
“Shitty master,” he mumbles under his breath to no one.
~
It’s jarring to all the guards, the way you don’t even stand let alone bow when Noa knocks to enter your room. But Noa cares little for things like that, if you’re truly offering what you’ve said.
“Perhaps I was too hasty, in presenting the solution before giving you the facts.” He hesitates before you in the reflection of your vanity. You don’t respond, barely even look at him as you unclasp your jewelry, laying it on the table.
“He will not love you.” Noa tells you after a breath, his surefire eyes finally meeting yours.
You give him a curious gaze. “That is likely for the best. I would outlive him, after all.”
“It is, truly, on a need-to-know basis. To tell you this-”
“The prophecy, I presume you’re referring to,” you interrupt, turning to face him.
The shock rolls quickly off him. Divinity does have its mysteries, he supposes. “You already know.”
“I asked the water, why he is so quick to believe he is forsaken. They told me that he lives under the burden of a prophetic trial. That is all I know.” You stand, moving to unzip your dress only for Noa to hastily pull a partition screen across the room and turn around.
“The water, it speaks to you?”
“It does. Though it’s worth noting that it does not make me all-seeing.” Your voice carries over the partition with the ruffle of clothing. “The queen of the Gods, who sees all fates – she is the only one who is truly all-seeing.”
You come out in a nightgown, folding the partition back. He chucks you a robe that you catch easily.
“You should learn the ways of this world if you want to pass as a simple water sorceress, especially before the banquet.”
You frown. “The prince is my betrothed, is he not? Will he not handle it all?”
The idea you present sparks in Noa’s mind. “Brilliant. I’ll have Kaiser and some of the other members of our team show you the ropes. Good night, sorceress.”
You nod to him, and the door clicks shut.
~
“She’s a what?”
Oliver slams his metal cup of beer down, rolling the dice once more.
“A demigod, Oliver. Gods, are you that drunk already? Keep up.” Karasu grabs at the dice as Oliver moves his pieces.
“Can you all shut the fuck up? What happened to need-to-know basis?” Chigiri slinks himself over to their table.
“We’re need-to-know.” Karasu jabs a thumb at himself and Oliver.
“They are, actually, need-to-know.” Isagi puts a gentle hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, settling down next to him. “Because she’s never been human in her life.”
“And now we’re supposed to, what, teach her to be human? Is that a thing we can do?” Chigiri twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, tapping the end against Isagi’s cheek.
Oliver snorts. “What, like a class? Some of us have never sat in one of those, you prissy little shits.”
“She can’t dance, for one.”
“Get Kaiser to teach her. Isn’t he her betrothed?”
That has Oliver almost spitting out his drink, choking on it in coughs. “He's her what?”
Chigiri scowls in his direction. “Dude, are you listening at all?”
“If she’s really his betrothed, none of us should be teaching her.” Oliver warns genuinely. “He’ll cut down everyone here, before he lets us touch her.”
“It’s just an excuse,” Isagi waves his hand, pulling out a leather-bound bind of notes. “They’re not actually together.”
“Oh, you actually got that motion to pass. Shit.” Karasu remarks admirably.
“It must be so tiring,” Bachira sighs happily, falling into place next to Isagi, “to have to actually care about what other people think.”
“The optics, Bachira,” Isagi smacks the end of his pen across Bachira’s nose, and he makes an oh! sound in response.
When Kaiser walks in, the room almost goes silent. He’s used to it, of course. Hearing only the way his footfalls come heavy, boots thumping into the stone floor as a drink is placed right in front of him immediately.
The room slowly fills back with noise as he shoulders off his coat, wrapping it around the chair before sitting. But only his table is still strangely silent.
He flits his gaze over the group. Usually, they’re the first to kill the silence in the room, yelling about the game or a duel. He looks at Isagi, specifically, who seems the most nervous. “Something you wanna say to me?”
“Uh…”
Chigiri sighs, killing the tension. “We’re deciding who gets to teach her how to dance.”
Kaiser quirks an eyebrow. “The demigod?”
Chigiri nods, and Kaiser takes a long gulp of his drink, popping it back down and twirling the top of it with his fingers. “I’ll do it.”
“What?” It’s Isagi’s turn to be shocked, sitting up straight.
Kaiser exhales audibly. “None of you could handle her. She could cut you with water the moment you accidentally step on her.”
It’s not an insult, really. They know this too. That this is Kaiser’s brand of protection, to add insult to injury just to keep others out of harm’s way. But they play his game.
“Think we can’t dodge fast enough? A bit demeaning, don’t you think?” Oliver’s grin is wicked, making straight eye contact with Kaiser, who only draws his eyebrows in at his direction.
“You think that god-killing sword is gonna save you?” Karasu asks.
“I don’t have the sword anymore.”
“What?”
It stings more than it should, he thinks. The sword that he thought chose only him, so quickly released from his grasp. But his strength is his own, he holds fast to that.
Kaiser glances at Karasu. “Those are the terms. She marries me, she gets the sword.”
Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”
Chigiri scoffs at that. “She’s a demigod. Being down here is probably like being in the sewers to her.”
Kaiser stands abruptly, pushing his drink aside, his coat billowing as he wraps it over himself once more.
“Where are you going?” Isagi yells, but he doesn’t answer.
“He gone for real?” Oliver elbows Karasu. “I’m too drunk to tell.”
“Yeah, man. He’s gone”
“Great.” Oliver slaps a piece down. “I’ll bet 50 bucks right now they get married for real.”
“What the fuck?” Chigiri tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it might give him some reprieve.
Karasu laughs, “Okay, I’ll play. I’ll bet 20 that they try to kill each other.”
“You’re just a hater.”
“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”
“She’s a goddess. He’s literally already betrothed to her.” Oliver takes another swig. “Y’all ain’t gonna marry a goddess if she was given to you? Damn, put me in his place, I’ll do it right now.”
~
Kaiser trains, every morning, from sunrise to noon.
You only know because most of the rooms in the palace outlook to a self-contained field. You see him, often, because of this, even if he doesn’t speak to you. As you walk down the corridor, in your classes with Isagi about the current climate of the nations.
“It is useless for me to learn this,” you tell him. “In a few short millennia, the border of the nations will undoubtedly change. And we will have to relearn it all again. What is the use? Why war at all over something so insignificant? Just have a conversation about it.”
Isagi makes a pointed, bored expression at you for this, and then pretends like you didn’t say anything at all.
At the end of class today, you press your elbows to the open windowsill.
Kaiser is there, sparring with Ness. Ness is quick, agile, fleet-footed and runs circles around Kaiser so much so that it almost makes it difficult to keep up.
Kaiser approaches him at bone-breaking momentum, launches strike after hardened strike. He’s shirtless, bandages wrapped around the bottom of his torso, and his body is streaked with sweat. He’s strong, clearly. Broad shoulders clear now from when they were hidden under layers of clothing the first time you met him, the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing with each step of the friendly duel, hair dipped in saltwater blue.
You know what he looks like, now. You get a sense why Fate brings you here.
He looks like a hero.
The kind that Gods covet, watch from their merry clouds. It’s no wonder that he’s burdened by a prophetic trial, with a face as cutting as his sword, his hair framing his face and flowing.
He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily.
You give him the space you think he might be asking for. You turn away.
~
He approaches you one night, just before sunset. Karasu had just finished an etiquette lesson with you, setting away forks and knives. Whatever he sees on Kaiser’s face makes him move quicker. He nods once to Kaiser, and then hastily leaves.
“You’ve been making yourself quite at home here, demigod.” Kaiser traces the lace outline of the tablemat, every ridge under his calloused finger.
“I vowed myself to your kingdom to the end of your life. I’m simply doing what is asked of me.”
“And you’re all ready for the banquet, I’m guessing?” The sentence is almost mocking as he approaches you.
“It’s just a ball, is it not? I’ve been told I’m just to stand there and make pleasantries.”
Kaiser chuckles, more bared teeth than sweet. “It is, arguably, the worst part of being so-called royalty.”
“You’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”
"To say no to a goddess' proposal would be the greatest blasphemy, no?"
"From what I've seen, you have not minded sacrilege much at all."
“Marriage means little to me. Disillusioned, perhaps, with the prophecy.” He waves his hand like he speaks of something meaningless. But you see it clearly. Before he had even allowed himself the thought of love, it was taken from him. “Your power is great, your presence ensures the continuation of myself as an heir and successor. Even I can reason with that.”
He's right in front of you now, so close you can feel his body warmth.
“Does it bother me?” He shrugs. “Sure. As far as I’m aware, you are no wife of mine. But a protector of this nation? For that, you are an indispensable ally.”
He looks out the window, towards a coming sunset. Something indescribable on his face, like grief and guilt all in one. He takes a deep breath in and out, inhaling the peace and exhaling the heaviness of his heart, before facing you again. “A war is coming. No one believes me, but I can feel it, as steady as a river’s current. Until then, I’ll make my peace with you.”
You nod. “So be it, your highness.”
That has him stepping back, more incredulous than you’ve ever seen him, body tensed and frowning. Maybe he should’ve expected it, given the way he’s just dismissed you. “Your highness? You hadn’t questioned my lineage before, but now you dare to do so?”
You stare at him blankly. “You are a prince, are you not? Isagi says that’s what princes are called.”
One side of his mouth upturns in relief, and he bursts out a bright laugh. “Is that what they teach you in those lessons Isagi gives? Oh,” a hand runs through the front of his hair, “I thought my own wife-to-be would dare insult me.”
You scoff. “I have no need for that.”
“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.” He says it proudly, like fact, like a knowing so deep within him that it turns pride into faith. “A title like that is something used by the Itoshi brothers, let’s say,” he comments airily. “Their throne is carried by a bloodline.”
He turns on his heel, only looking back when he realizes you don’t follow.
“You don’t know how to dance yet, do you?”
You lean your hip against the table. “I can dance.”
“Come, then. If you’re to be my wife, it’ll be an embarrassment if you don’t at least act like it.”
You follow him to a ballroom – a stunning, wide area with a looping chandelier, curtains that weigh down in arches over each floor-to-ceiling window.
He swoops you from your distraction with a hand around your waist, and the physical contact shocks you so greatly that orbs of water swirl in your hands.
Kaiser only raises an eyebrow at you. “This is a dance, not a duel. Or do the gods do it differently?”
For a man who was so passive to you, he holds you so close that your chest to chest, you can feel each breath he takes against you. When he steps with you, his movements are slow and deliberate, never inefficient. He moves not with fluidity, but with each sure step. Pulls you forward, then pushes you back. Circles you, spins you around.
It’s exactly like when you see him train. Like steps to a kata.
“I thought you said this was not a duel.”
“These are steps to a classic waltz, demigod.”
“You have no fluidity to you.”
Kaiser scoffs. “Should I apologize? With the prophetic curse hanging above me, I haven’t taken a dancing class.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Hm?”
“The prophecy. It doesn’t have to be a curse.”
He stops, separating himself from you, scowling.
“This session is over.”
“Kaiser-,”
“What?” He snaps. “You, of divine nature. You want to tell me how to view my prophecy?”
“I do not say this out of pity, or out of some sort of higher knowing.” You say it with conviction. “As heir to the throne, a throne that is currently being held by Fate itself, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this at all.”
“And yet?”
“To know your fate is to be able to defy it.” And maybe it’s just an effect of your divinity, but it rings like a bell, like truth itself. “Your prophecy may have made a wound, but you are the one who cuts it open. You are a man who wields a sword that cannot, should not be able to be wielded by anyone but the divine. Does that not say something? About you, about your capabilities?”
“And yet you took it from me.”
The silence that follows is thick with indecision. Kaiser lets the uncomfortableness sit, rejects every heartwarmed statement you make with a roll of his shoulders, like water off a smoothened rock, replaced with only his anger. “I trained for weeks before I could lift that sword out of the riverbank. Yet it is yours, now, simply because you are supposedly its rightful owner.”
Conflict runs through your face so clearly, he wonders that even if you could lie, whether it would mean anything at all. He watches as your hand reaches into a conjured puddle of water that floats in the air, and out comes the divine sword.
You hold it in your hand with an ease that he has spent months capturing. It strikes envy in him like a branded sear.
“My role here is technically to secure the sword. I have no need to wield it.” You hold it at the bottom of its handle, directing the top of it to him. “If you swear you won’t lose her, I can set a compromise of sorts.”
“You think I’d agree to a compromise?”
You open up your palm, and a bracelet appears. “This will help you keep the sword in a pocket dimension we can both access. If you’re willing to place it there to secure it when you’re not using it, I’ll return her to you until the end of your line.”
Huh. A safe-keeping place is a more neutral proposition than he had thought you’d come up with. To have her back kills the fight in him, and he accepts begrudgingly, testing the magic in his hands until it becomes natural.
“For the record, Kaiser, I have not always been worthy of it.”
Something about the way his name slips off your lips has him keening. “Worthy?”
“I stayed true to my course. I was given a title. And then I could wield the sword, presented to me by my queen.”
“Your queen. Heir to the throne.” He laughs bitterly, knowingly. “You’re a princess.”
“Despite your mocking tone, I’ll have you know that title of mine is of the highest regard. I don’t take it nearly as lightly as you do with yours.”
“That’s why you didn’t bow or kneel. You take what’s meant to be yours without a second thought. Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” He flicks a finger between your eyebrows. “What a spoiled thing you are. Can you even fight?”
Something in Kaiser takes pride in the way you frown more deeply, it’s almost like a pout. It’s almost…
“Well, I definitely wasn’t sitting idly in the war between Gods.”
“I’ve never seen you train.”
“That’s because you’re always on the training grounds.”
“Oh? You won’t show me?”
“I’m giving you space. I’m no wife of yours, no?” There’s a sting to it when you say it, having his words thrown back at him.
“Duel with me. Tomorrow.” He spins you, lets you out of his hold before bringing you back in.
~
He begins to meet you, day after day. A duel first, and then a dance. The dichotomy would be distasteful to any other, but you of divine blood do not even flinch at his request.
He may be displeased to have you, but his mouth cracked as wide and wicked as a cat’s at the prospect of a fight.
“Go on, then.” He takes a blunt, wooden sword, throwing it in your direction. “Or do you only fight with magic?” He teases.
You swing the sword, rotating your wrist with ease. “Do you forget yourself, prince? I am half divine, you will surely lose. Are you sure you want to go through with this anyways?”
His mouth widens, more teeth than smile. “Bring it.”
You know, the moment you defend against his first strike, that a singular hit from him on the battlefield must be deadly. He is surefooted, his whole weight bears down in every move. He doesn’t let you breathe once, much faster than you would’ve thought with someone of his size and height.
Kaiser was almost right about one thing, that the divine adds to your magic more than your physical strength. With enough training, in just simple hand-to-hand combat… He might have the potential to beat you.
But not today. Today, you have him pinned to the ground, makeshift blade to his throat.
“You’re awfully close,” he gasps out slyly. And it’s in this moment that you notice, too, how right he is about that, how you can feel his heartbeat underneath yours, his chest against yours with each exhale.
“What?” He grins wide, “afraid you’ll miss?”
By all the Gods, you want to knock the living daylights out of him. He notices your anger in that hesitation, your conflict between doing what is right and what you want, and flips you over, swapping your positions until his hips are pressed against yours.
Something about your shell-shocked face makes him stir.
“First rule of fighting, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair before planting it next to your head, leaning into you close. “Never get distracted by your opponent.”
He’s closer than he was before, admiring the way you look under him, your hair splayed along the ground and the sweet fire of irritation in your eyes. Is the heaving of your chest from your anger towards him, or from something else entirely?
“When Gods fight, there is not nearly as much prattling.” You grit at him. He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean.
~
It is during dances that he speaks to you. Not at first, but slowly, like a river that streams into the ocean. You tell him tales about the Gods, about your friends, about wars and petty arguments. And he starts to answer you, more often than not, with every question you might have.
“I have wondered about something.”
“Hm?”
“The sheathing. It prevents even me from detecting the sword’s divinity.”
“Huh, so Nagi really wasn’t lying.”
“Nagi, who is always with Reo?”
Kaiser nods. “They say Nagi was once sought upon by a god for his talents, a god who was constantly sending him dreams. But he grew tired of it, so he found a material that prevents even the gods from finding him so he can sleep in peace.”
The conversation often leads to the prophecy, a bitterness like licorice on his tongue. Even if he skates around the topic, you don’t let him hide from it, cutting straight to the heart of the truth.
“You can live in the cold bitterness you’ve put yourself in, Kaiser,” you tell him, one of these nights. “Or you can live, and maybe even possibly die, warmed by a life you truly felt was worth living. Your own choices. Not because of a prophecy, or because of Noa, or even in spite of me.”
But despite it, he doesn’t move away. Because it is the only time he has you to himself. He sees you, always, with Isagi and Oliver and Karasu and Chigiri. How you have molded into their lives with simplicity, sit with them at meals and have easy conversation despite knowing nothing, in a way that he has never once allowed himself to enjoy. What does it say about Kaiser? That he can't stand your presence but he can't stand your absence even more? That he would rather have a biting argument with you than leave you to your own devices?
It's during duel and dance that he comes as close as he can to touching you. If he did anymore, it would become something he doesn't have the heart to name without unease settling in his gut.
~
On the day of the banquet, Chigiri sits you down in your vanity, braiding your hair back in his hands.
“The queen of the Gods, her lover, a friend of mine… He used to do this for me too.”
Chigiri silently appreciates that you don’t ask him why it is him that helps you with this. That divinity doesn’t hold the same notions this world does.
“He would-,” you laugh softly to yourself. You’re stunning like this, Chigiri can’t help but notice. A goddess, most casual as can be. “He would say that I was useless at it, actually. You two might’ve been good friends.”
“Me? Friends with a god?” Chigiri finishes the braid, tilting your head in his hands to admire the way the braid crowns around each side.
“Of the Fae, actually. A beautiful man he is. You would fit right in.”
That stops Chigiri, has him taking a sharp intake of breath, smiling at you through the vanity’s reflection. “Thank you, princess. Though you would do good to be more careful during this banquet to compliment anyone.”
You smile softly back. “Ah, yes, my betrothed who will not love me might get jealous. Gods are not so different than people, in this regard.”
“Is that so…”
~
It’s when you meet the Itoshi brothers at the banquet that you begin to understand why Isagi gave you all these lessons.
Where Kaiser is muscle and sword first, more fighter than prince, Sae and Rin are the opposite. They have a grace befitting of royalty. Instead of heavy footfalls that you can hear even in the blanket of snow, they are light-footed, conscious of it in the echoed ballroom.
Though you suspect, from the way Sae grips Kaiser’s forearm as they shake hands, from the way Kaiser regards Sae, that he is somehow just as strong of a fighter. That royalty is an illusion Sae and Rin put on, for peace’s sake.
Something indescribable flits over Sae’s face as you curtsy in front of him, but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with his nonchalance.
“The betrothed of the banquet. We are most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sae bows his head to you, and Rin follows in his stead.
You smile, something beaming and sweet. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“Would you mind, Kaiser?” Sae’s eyes only leave yours for a glance, to check in at Kaiser’s now furrowed look. “I’d like to take your wife-to-be for a dance.”
Kaiser’s back straightens, a hardened gaze with gritted teeth. But he says nothing. You swear Sae almost grins.
“I’ll return her back to you.” He says it like a favor, and Kaiser is only held back by Karasu’s hand on his shoulder.
“It’s just one dance, Kai,” Kaiser looks at Karasu, then to you, and then back to Sae. He barely nods once.
“Are you sure?” You ask him.
He scowls. “What do I have to be worried about?”
Well, it’s not like you want to anger him further. You let Sae take your hand, leading you to the floor.
“I almost didn't think you were who you said you were, when I saw you,” Sae tells you, breaking the quiet of the dance.
You lean back so you can see his whole face, your confusion clear. “Your highness?”
“When I had heard of you, they told me that waves flowed off your dress like water itself holds you sacred. Yet here you are, as regular as can be.”
Sae twirls you away from him, then brings you back into his arms. “They say you shook the earth with a single step. Where is all that power you were said to hold?” He holds you close, watching your every reaction with his crystal gaze. “This place. They’ve placated you, tamed you.”
He brings his mouth to your ear, the body warmth of his entire chest seeping into yours. “If you were mine, I would never force you into a box you didn’t belong. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Kaiser, even with his god-killing sword.” He spins you again, capturing your waist. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t be afraid to demonstrate your power to the world.”
“Sae.” He looks at you in a way that feels meaningful. You don’t know the pleasantries of this nation or his in-depth, but you know, somehow, that this feels like this is something you should shield from.
“Oh? No honorifics already? We’re that intimate, are we?”
To fight is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Being able to hurt others with a play instead of a sword, you’re not sure if you can shield others from something like that.
As the song ends, Sae takes your hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Consider my proposition, princess. Before your marriage solidifies, and becomes something you can’t escape from.”
With his hand on the small of your waist, he brings you back to Kaiser dutifully. Kaiser links his arm with yours immediately, before any of you can spare a goodbye.
“What did he say to you?”
You hum. You get the sense that maybe…
“Nothing of importance,” you tell him instead.
“Hm?” He tilts your chin up to meet you eye to eye. “Is my own betrothed keeping secrets from me?”
“He said I don’t seem all that powerful.”
That makes Kaiser smile, not something sweet but with teeth bared, like a wolf. “He hasn’t seen you in action.” He pulls you in, hand wrapping to the back of your neck, a slow and deep whisper. “Do you want to show them?”
“Weren’t we both told that’s inappropriate? Isagi said the optics could make your allies scared.”
Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Isagi this, optics that. Our country has always been about the brawl and brave. Let the nations fear us, then. I, with my cruelty and a god-killing sword. You, a sorceress second to none. It’s a pretty picture, is it not?”
He straps his sword to his back and brings you to the middle of the room, and as the guests of honor, the crowd gives you both a wide berth. He circles you, just like you practiced. Makes you center stage.
“Go on then, princess.” He lets go of your hand and bows, sweeping his arm out. “Show us who you really are.”
“Kaiser,” you whisper. “We have very clear orders-”
“I make the orders, not follow them. So make your choice, princess. Wasn’t it you who said that it is worth living a life warmed by your own choices? Tell me, then. Do you want to show them? Or do you want to play nice?”
This play, to have ego and pride dive head-first into a situation, is so very human. And yet-
You let water overcast your body from your waist, let it roll off in layers like waves into the floor. Anyone who has had experience with magic can see your ultimate control over it, how the floor isn’t wet at all, how the water was conjured from nothing. Your hair is silken with dampness, framing your face like gloss. Gasps and awes from the audience makes Kaiser grin even wider.
“There we go.” Kaiser reaches behind him to unsheath his blade, and the galaxy within swirls. He spins it in his hand, and it’s almost like he’s never been happier.
In seconds, he strikes at you. Your hands move up instinctively, blocking the blade with a stream of water. The sound it makes, divinity against divinity, is like a low bell. The floor beneath you shakes with the strength of the strike, water dispersing around your feet in cascades to cushion the impact. You hear screams of shock, a glass breaking.
“Kaiser,” you grit, but all he does is widen that wicked, quicksilver grin.
And then he laughs, stepping away and sheathing the blade back. He holds one hand out to you instead.
“Next time, I want a duel in front of everyone. But this time, I guess a dance will suffice.”
You exhale gratefully, taking his hand in yours and retracting your water. “Let us dance, then.”
And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you.
~
Isagi collapses into the booth, a palm pressed to his eyebrows. “Our allies thought they were about to fight each other.”
“Can I cash in on my bet now?” Karasu rolls a skewer stick between his fingers. “Because they might’ve almost killed each other.”
“Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.”
Isagi opens his eyes to find Chigiri and Bachira standing before the booth. Chigiri’s not meeting his eyes, his mouth perching to one side in a way that squishes one of his cheeks.
“What happened?”
“They’re gone.”
“Ha?”
“We had one drink. One.”
Oliver has the audacity to laugh, hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry, Isagi,” he pats him on the back. “I’m sure they’re just fucking around.”
In another corner of the hall, royals speak in low tones.
“We can just take her if you like her,” Shidou tells Sae with the sweetest smile a man like that can muster. “No need to ask poor little Kai-Kai.”
Sae says nothing, eyeing you quietly as you step out of the hall.
~
You are sitting at the edge of the ocean, letting the slate-crested waves wash over you, when he finds you.
“You can dry me in a moment’s notice if I am to sit with you, right?” He says it almost reluctantly, even though he’s here anyways. He’s dropped his off coat somewhere along the way, and there’s something so naked about seeing him in just a shirt. He almost seems softer, without the harsh lines of battle-ready clothing or the fur that drapes around him, relaxed in a way he wasn’t in the banquet hall.
You smile. “I can keep you dry whilst you're sitting.”
He relents, then. Allowing the strangeness of sitting on wet sand without getting wet.
“Was the banquet up to your expectations, then, Kaiser?”
Expectations. He’s had none of a party like this. Being allowed to dream is a privilege, and privileges were not granted to him.
“You are officially my wife-to-be,” he says instead. “Shouldn’t you call me something a little more intimate?”
You gaze out into the horizon for a moment, and something in your eyes unfocuses, like you’ve gone somewhere else and then returned. “Very well. I shall call you Mihya.”
It strikes a chord in him, like a teaspoon hitting a glass. “Mihya? Where did that come from?”
“The water.”
“She speaks to you?”
“She says in another life, you are given a nickname like that.”
“Another life…” He lies down in the sand, watches the streaks of sunset in the blueing sky.
“Ask then, Mihya,” you lean over him slightly, until all he can see is the sky and the way your features soften. “The question we both know is on your mind.”
He almost wants to reach out, hold your cheek in his hand. It’s a foreign feeling to him, so foreign it almost feels like unease – to want to extend a gentleness like that to another person. “Won’t you just tell me?”
You breathe in the sea-salt air, and breathe out a heart-warmed truth. “The prophecy does not hold you captive in another life.”
Kaiser, for once, lets himself dream. Of a different life, where he is unburdened by a prophecy, and burns brightly.
~
“It would seem strange if you weren’t together, with all the other guests in the palace.” That’s what Oliver tells you as he gestures for you to take his arm, leading you to Kaiser’s room.
It’s both plainer and more furnished than you thought, like someone who isn’t him had chosen the furniture and the color of the walls. But the items in the bookshelves seem well-loved, items taken out and put back haphazardly, scrolls and books placed back half-way. The bathroom door opens with a flood of light.
“You’re here.” It’s rare to shock Kaiser in a way that doesn’t make him immediately reach for his sword.
You turn to look at him, taking in his half-dressed state. “Were you expecting some other woman?”
“Oh, so you’re the jealous type?”
He almost wants to laugh at the clear discomfort on your face. Gods don’t tease, he’s guessing?
The bed gives way to you as you take your place. “I hear it’s common for princes to take many lovers.”
The moonlight spills over the bedsheets as the room darkens, and you summon the sword to float right above you, looking into it. He joins you, wanting to see exactly what you’re seeing.
“It’s not a night sky.” Your voice is so soft in the blanket of night between you both.
“Hm?”
“Inside the sword. Your people say it looks like the night sky. It’s not. It’s a galaxy.”
He reaches his hand out, tracing over the glass along the middle of the weapon, a silent remark for you to continue.
“At the beginning of all worlds, the first-ever contract was made between the first-ever forces, and with it, this sword was said to be conjured out of the galaxy. And so, a part of the galaxy at the beginning of all worlds was contained in this sword.”
The stars in the sword move within like they’re responding to your words, borne witness to all the events. But instead of watching them, you turn to him.
“You have held and wielded a primordial piece of this world. It has allowed you to hold it, granted you its blessing.”
Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had.
The sword disappears with a movement of his hand, and he rolls to lean over you. Silence drops like a curtain. The only sound he knows is your breath and his.
During a fight, his feelings can almost be mistaken for adrenaline. But even under the shadow of the moon, with the cushioned silence between you both, the way you cut straight to the truth rings like a silver bell.
He can’t hide from you. Or maybe. Maybe he’s tired of hiding at all.
He is a man who has only known war and battle, was born and bred into it. War-forged, is what they call men like him. His hands know weapons, know how to kill.
He does not know if they know how to love. And yet-
He cups your face, and drinks you in.
He kisses you with caution, like you might melt from his grasp if he held too tightly. Presses his lips against yours slowly. He runs his hand gently over your hairline as he parts from you.
Is this okay? He wants to ask. But instead, he says: “Tell me what you want.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips brushing against yours when you answer: “You.”
And then he kisses you like a man starved, never known by this feeling that gets caught up in his throat with every noise of yours he swallows.
“Is this… is this what you want?” You try to ask as you part from him for air, but he presses his mouth to the space behind your ear instead, laying kisses down your neck. “Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?”
That makes him stop. But when he looks at you with a surefire gaze…
He knows it, undoubtedly. That this, for once, is his.
“There are no lovers,” he tells you between kisses, to your shoulder, down your collarbone, to your breastbone.
“What?”
“I take no lovers.” He unclasps your bra, lets the material fall from his hands to cup your supple flesh. “I’ve never been princely, after all.”
“You- Kai-”
He runs his thumbs across both your nipples, admires how they perk up at his administrations, flitting his gaze between them and your face as he brings his mouth down over one of them.
He presses kisses down your body, cups your heat in his hand like he’s begging you to respond, like he’s saying let me have this. The inside of your thighs is soft as cream under his calloused hands. His thumb moves along the outside of your underwear, from your slit up to your clit with his fingers pressing tentatively against the fabric until you’re grabbing at his wrist.
“You’re so tense,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want me to take care of that for you?” He runs the knuckles of his hand over your clothed slit, bumping into your clit with his thumb until your breathing gets heavy, your hands gripping his shoulders.
“Kaiser,” you breathe, and he clicks his tongue.
“That’s not what you call me, baby. Not anymore.”
“Mihya.”
“Mm,” he slides his fingers into your panties from the side, a huff of breath leaves him at the wetness he finds. “Good girls get rewarded, you know?”
Heat coils hot deep in your stomach. He can’t take the restriction, pulling your panties down and revealing your core to the cold air. He lets his slickness pool on his fingers, collects it before bringing it to your clit. It’s like a drug, watching the way your face gives way to pleasure, how your body arches into him.
“Mihya,” you gasp again, like a chant, a prayer. Is this what the gods feel like, to be asked of?
“Let me watch,” he says it like a demand but it aches with desperation, a thing he won’t admit outside these four walls. He presses with more confidence now, slides one finger into you, then two. There’s little resistance with the way he’s riled you up, long fingers pressing into you until he reaches something that has you making a broken moan so pretty he can’t help but tilt into it again.
“I want to see it,” he tells you. This is something he makes happen to you, with his own hands, his own words, his own body that shares its heat with yours. That notion alone runs arousal straight through him. Your panting breath, the way your body shakes with each swipe against your clit.
“I want to see you fall apart in my arms.” He whispers, and you respond in kind. You always do to him, don’t you? He’s been seen too surely by you, now it’s his turn. Your body tenses entirely, tightly, gripping him as he grants you reprieve. A soft whine leaves your mouth along with something like his name, and the rough pad of his thumb circles over your clit until you crash, coming around his fingers.
He swipes a thumb over your cheek, allows himself the gentleness that he’s held back for so long with you.
“One more, okay?”
Your eyes widen. “Mihya,” this time it’s like a warning, but the way you say his name is so breathy it has him pressing a hand over his pants.
“Yeah, say my name just like that.” He shuffles down until his mouth is pressing to your stomach, just above your mound. Then again to the inside of your knee, trailing up until the inside of your thigh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there.
“You’re-, wait, we just- I just”
“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” He kisses your clit first, like a promise, and then he laps at your core generously, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit, his flat tongue against the whole of you. Every drop of slick from your previous orgasm is taken in by him with each moan he makes against your core. If he had known this feeling was going to enter his life, that it would’ve felt like this, maybe he would’ve readied himself better for it. Instead, he finds himself starving at the table where it’s served. The taste of you on his tongue wraps him in a heady pleasure, but it’s every sound he takes out of you that has him pressing a little more insistently, tongue laving over you.
“Pl-please,” your words break between gasps, and it has him lapping into your clit with more pressure.
“I can never say no to you, can I?” he mumbles between your legs. And then he’s flipping you over, hoisting you onto your knees and skimming his hands over your rear and thighs before diving in again. Your face is pressed into the pillow, hands grabbing the sheets. Kaiser almost seems dazed as he moans into your cunt, swollen and wet like a siren’s call, hands wrapped so tightly around your plush thighs that it feels like it might bruise.
“Let me taste,” he mutters, mouth still lodged into your cunt, like that isn’t what he’s already doing. “Come on baby, give it to me. Let me taste it on my tongue.”
Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing as another orgasm rocks through you, your breath coming short as you break apart on his tongue with a whine.
He flips you over again, and the look on his face takes your breath away. Your slick shimmers on his mouth as he trails his tongue over his lips, like he’s addicted, like he can’t get enough. He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him.
“There something you want, pretty?” He leans over you, hand to the bedpost, and how broad and tall he is becomes that much more obvious. You let yourself look, at the way his tattoo drapes over his arm, run your hands over the muscle of his torso down to his v-line. You hear a sharp intake of breath as your hand moves lower, running under his loose sleep pants to the base of his cock.
He grabs your hand in his, bringing it over your head and circling both your wrists. “Ask.”
“You-,” your eyes narrow and you huff at him, but it only makes him smile. “Won’t you just-”
“Nuh-uh.”
“I could cut you down here.”
He drops his pants, pumping his cock once and then sliding it along your slit. “You could. And then who’ll give you what you want?”
You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks.
“You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?”
The harsh look you give him under those fluttering lashes of yours makes something stir in his gut, arousal shot through his veins, pupils wide. He plays with you, warm hands against your skin and between your legs, the soft skin of his cock sliding between your thighs until you’re gasping in his hold again, grinning like a battle won.
“Please, Mihya,” you sigh.
“Mhmm. Please what?”
“Please- please fuck me.”
He gets off on it, watching you yield to him, spreading your legs, dripping your hot slick onto his cock. He presses the head against you, petaled folds opening up to receive him as he slides into you slowly. Just the first few inches is so thick inside of you that your hands wrap around the muscles of his arms, nails digging in.
“Shh, baby, you can take it,” he hushes your little whines, tracing your hairline with such gentleness it contradicts the way he pulls out of you just slightly only to push in again.
“You’re- oh,” your body gives into him, even more so when he brings his hand down to tap on your clit, his mouth over your neck, to the side of your mouth, until he’s kissing you and taking in every noise you make. It’s almost a distraction, helps your body to relax so he can press into you deeper. You think you feel every inch as it enters you, all the way until the hilt, until the head is pressing deep inside of you and his hips meet yours.
He lets out a rough, deep moan against the expanse of your neck, breath coming short as your walls tighten around him.
“Fuck, baby. You gotta let me move.” Your arms wrap around him tighter, a whimper falling from your lips as he tilts his hips up to plunge into you again. It’s hard and slow and deep and if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you might’ve hit the headboard. But he’s careful about it – more than you might’ve thought he’d be. Pressing your body into the bed as his hips meet yours again and again.
“It feels so good,” you tell him, and it has him pressing a kiss to your cheek in return. Makes every moan you make that much sweeter, to know it’s out of your pleasure, to know it’s because of him.
“Good girl. Tell me again.”
“Feels- you’re so big, so- please, I need-” Your walls can barely clench down onto him with how he feels inside of you. Chest to chest with him, the contact of skin on skin-
“You drive me insane,” he grumbles it into your skin; a confession, exacerbated with each thrust of his hips as he picks up the speed, until he’s slamming into you with a kind of strength that has you seeing constellations behind your eyes. He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. Heat pools in your core until you’re arching your back, and he knows it now – knows it like the back of his hand.
“Give it to me.” It’s a command, a need, if you listen closely enough. “Come around my cock. Show me.”
“Mihya, it’s so much, it’s so so much.” It’s treacherous, the way it works through your body, being on the brink.
His thumb is slick over your clit, pressing just a little more, until your thighs are tightening under his unrelenting body. “Come for me.”
You chant his name until the words start to become nothing in your mouth, until you’re breathless, until your whole body tenses under him and his hold against you gets that much rougher and your walls clamp down and then your body shakes as you come. You almost scream, only silenced by his lips on yours. He comes quickly after that, his eyes never leaving yours, taking in how you look underneath him as his cock gets more sensitive and paints the inside of your walls. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow until he feels your body start to relax under his.
You can barely process coming down as he’s kissing you again, deeply and with force, like he’s etching the memory of you into his mind and onto your lips.
For once, he lets himself recognize – how tiring the emptiness has been, to be devoid of this feeling and instead be filled with the fear that it’ll be turned against him. For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his, not a prayer but a soft word spoken in return. Kaiser does not want something as untouching as approval or attention from the divine. But he does want your waist in his arms, your forehead against his.
“Just like this,” he whispers it, a kiss placed to your forehead. You don’t know what he means, too tired to ask.
This is exactly what he’s always wanted. Just like this.
~
Not unlike a parent, Noa notices the closeness of your relationship. In touch, in stolen glances, in longing. A private conversation with him over afternoon tea is not unique, but the heaviness that weighs on him is.
“As the goddess who cannot lie, I have to ask you.” The hardened look on his face makes you straighten your back, putting down your teacup. “You know, that I have to ask.”
Silence sits between you both like a shoe about to drop.
Noa yields. “Has he truly been forsaken by all the gods?”
You are strangely silent as you look at him, then away, then back.
“Answer me, demigod.”
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
“I. Don’t. Know. I have told you before, that I am not a seer, or an oracle. Water holds memory. I can see the past, I can even see other lives parallel to ours, but I cannot see the future. This is the limit of my power.”
“You are of divine nature.”
“I had said what I said at our first meeting, and that has not changed. As long as I am here, the Gods have not forsaken him. For I have not forsaken him. Is that not enough? How many Gods would travel to your realm, vow themselves to a human kingdom? Even if it is I alone that stands before you, is that not enough?”
Noa sighs, more exasperated than you’ve ever seen a serious man like him. “He deserves more, that boy. For what he has been put through.”
“All greatness comes with a price. All heroes face tragedy. He, no matter how much you may care for him, is not the exception to that.” You tilt your head, like a cat with curiosity. But unlike that sweetness, your words are cutting. “You made him a ruler. You made him a hero. So, stand by that. Or does it make you uncomfortable? To consider the role you, too, have played in his life?”
Noa, of course, has thought about this too. Had he not chosen Kaiser to rule, would he have had the prophecy weighing on him like a second shadow?
“If the prophecy holds true, you will inevitably leave him.” Noa swallows, hand flat against the table. “He will inevitably be forsaken, even by you.”
“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”
~
In the weeks that follow, you learn exactly why. Like Kaiser had predicted, talk of battle comes.
“We suspect a neighboring nation wishes to wage war with us.” Noa looks out to the slate-blue ocean from the window of the war room.
“A man who wants control of this whole world,” Karasu huffs. “There’s never a lack of them, is there?”
“He thinks himself a god. Or that’s what Sae has told us.”
“You’re sure Sae’s information checks out?”
“Shidou and Otoya like to visit neighboring nations for uh… fun, let’s say,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, then plants his face in his hands. “He said something along the lines of “you don’t wanna know how they found out” and “Shidou sleeps with both men and women, so it’s been cross-checked too.””
“And then we asked him about war,” Isagi throws his notes down on the table. “He said, and I quote, ‘I already have more land than I know what to do with. What could another few acres give me? What a hassle.’”
“The enemy are bold to come for us first.” Kaiser frowns considerably. They are possibly the one nation blasphemous enough that would not blink at the thought of fighting a god. “There’s something we’re not seeing.”
Isagi nods in agreement. “We still don’t know the reason they’re coming here first. It could be the sword, or the goddess.” Isagi frowns. “I told you not to make a scene at the banquet.”
Kaiser gives him a curious look with a smile he fails to hide. “The point of a banquet is to wow the people. The people were wowed, were they not?”
“It could be, it could not be,” Noa kills the conflict there. “That information would have been made public regardless of the spectacle. It could even simply be the throne itself they seek. An army like ours could parade into the neighboring nations and lay waste, our people are used to much harsher weathers.”
“Or maybe he means to make a statement,” Karasu shrugs. “If he wants to be a god, maybe he means to punish the disrespect we’ve shown.”
“What do we actually know?” Chigiri taps the map of this nation splayed across the table.
“We know he wants to take control of this world, and we know his plan includes something from us.”
“He knows once he controls the world, he has to take care of it, right?” Oliver rests his jaw in his hand. “As in, it’s not just about buying the house, it’s about cleaning it too. The plan – it has to be bigger than this, no?”
“Won’t happen once we kill him here. So as far as we know, there are three things we have that he could want: the sword, the goddess, the army.” Chigiri holds up his fingers as he counts.
“So we’ll meet him with all three at the front lines. Fear does not wield us, after all. Only strength.” Kaiser says it like a mantra. You suspect it might be exactly that.
~
“What a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon, princess.”
As an ally, Sae arrived on the day of battle without question. He is much different from the first time you saw him, chainmail armor wraps tight and sleek around his body, clearly of a weight underneath his clothing. He stands straighter, shoulders broader, badges clipped to his outer jacket. It’s clear to anyone who looks at him, that it’s almost like he was born into them – meant for them.
“You’re both on the front lines then?”
“Idle hands,” Kaiser starts.
“Devil’s workshop.” You finish. You hear a horse galloping, then a voice.
“There’s something wrong.” The people give a wide berth as Oliver arrives, with a sleek black mare that’s obedient as can be. “The majority of the enemies’ troops are not in front of us.”
All of you turn to look, but it’s on the front lines that makes it most difficult to tell where the crowd begins and ends.
“I did a rough head count from the tower. This isn’t the count we had observed just the other day. They’ll die easily, like this, against us. And I don’t mean that from an egotistical standpoint. I think these men are here to die, meant to die. It serves to mean –”
“This is a distraction.”
Karasu appears at your side, with an utmost silence only he is capable of. “They’re headed for the main castle, from around the edge of the border.”
You and Kaiser look to each other with a whole silent conversation, and Sae sighs.
“Go on, then.”
You turn to Sae immediately, with a seriousness he doesn’t expect. “You’ll be unprotected.”
“We chopped liver to you, girl?” Shidou sneers.
Oliver drops down from his horse. “I’ll take over here.”
“Your care for me is truly touching, princess,” Sae’s voice lilts touchingly, almost revealing how much he likes it. “But you swore a vow to this kingdom, so go fulfill it.”
Even in the middle of a war, it gets Kaiser all worked up, his chin jutting as you both run back to the palace. But Sae understands duty, stands by it. It’s what makes him worthy of his own title in his own kingdom.
Oliver waits until you’re both out of sight before turning to Sae. “Did you really plan to steal her?”
“Well,” Sae shrugs. “Did you plan on letting her go so easily?”
~
Your water runs in cascading waves through the whole of the palace, like the ocean itself comes rushing through the walls. It knocks all the soldiers down as you and Kaiser run through, and he picks up any stragglers with ease.
“The throne room?” Kaiser slams the hilt of his sword into the guy behind him, and he collapses instantly.
“It is the safest room.”
“That makes no sense. If you knew anything about our people, you’d know we never hide ourselves there in a battle.”
“Go anyways,” you tell him, as another man gets thrown off his feet. “Go, Kaiser!”
He takes one final look at you, at the strength that you hold in your hands, and then he runs.
The man he finds sitting on the throne has black hair cut blunt to his chin, a white mask over one side of his face. Kaiser unsheathes his sword, pointed straight and true.
“That throne doesn’t belong to you.”
“It will. Along with that sword you’re holding.”
Kaiser chuckles, the kind that has madness interlaced in it. “If you wanted the sword so bad, you could’ve asked for a one-on-one combat duel. I haven’t had a satisfying fight in a long time, I’d be happy to lay the sword as a winning prize.”
What must be the man’s most elite fighters drop down from the ceiling, crowding in on all sides.
“Ah, I see,” Kaiser stands straighter, reaching behind him to unsheath his second sword. “It is your capabilities that do not match mine.”
When they come for him, it’s clear to even the heavens that he is exactly as he is fated – a force to be reckoned with. He moves like a spider-spun silken web, capturing each of them blow by blow. His swords cut like butter through them with impressive speed and strength. His breath comes fast and hard when he finishes, sweat dripping down his back.
“I see now, prince,” the man approaches him, and it’s closer up that he realizes he’s simply in a suit, no armor. “Why they praise you, despite your blasphemy. You, a prince famous for cursing divinity at a whim’s notice, are a powerful ally. Kneel before me, then, and I’ll cease this all – let you join our cause in a war against the gods, in stealing their divinity from them. I’ll even forgive this transgression of bedding one.”
“Me? Kneel?” The canned laugh that Kaiser lets out echoes. “I kneel to no god, let alone a man who wants to become one.”
“So be it, then.”
Kaiser hears something above him. By the gods, what’s with this guy and ceilings? Is that why he wants to fight here? A dust of something shimmers down, he pulls his cloak over himself-
From the doorway, you throw your water across the room, shielding Kaiser from whatever it may have been. And in the same moment, a poof of shimmer bursts over your own head and tumbles down around you.
“That’s the problem with you gods, isn’t it? You always think you’re infallible.”
You cough, falling to one of your knees. Dread fills inside of you, like a faucet you can’t turn off. You can’t move. How is that possible?
The man taps two fingers to the top of your head, and your world goes dark.
~
When you blink your eyes open, the first thing you’re aware of is the way your vision swims. Your mind feels clouded, stuffed with cotton. You press your palm to your head, and even that feels muted.
“I’ve made her mine now. She’ll do exactly what I say. Does that make you upset?” Is what you think you hear, through the ringing of your ears. “Let’s see you put that god-killing sword to good use then, shall we?”
“It’s. Magic.” You spit out the words as your hands press into the ground. Your legs cramp from the way you’re forcing them to stay down. “Mihya. Run, please.”
“Awh, worried about me?” Kaiser teases as he logs the odds. There is no water that swirls around you, so it begs to reason – you can’t call it. The only weapon you have is a dagger.
Kaiser tilts his head until his neck cracks. “Have some faith in me, princess. I’m not afraid, even against you.”
He breathes, in and out, until the calmness of battle seeps into him, raises his sword pointed right at you. “I’ll win, even against you.”
And then he reveals that cocky, surefire smirk. “You should worry more about not dying yourself.”
When you launch at him, it is without mercy, makes him realize how your kindness seeps into the way you fight. His weapon is bigger, larger, and he uses it to keep you at arm’s length, to wrap around towards the enemy. But he sees his problem almost immediately. Like a puppet on strings, you’re protecting the enemy.
He knows it, the moment the prophecy solidifies into place in his mind. That feeling of being lost on a path, gone with the reigning down a light. The final puzzle piece in the picture.
You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you.
For once, the prophecy is not a curse but a guiding starlight. He corners you with strike after strike, until you’re as close as can be to the enemy. And then he approaches you with no defense, lets you strike at him. In the same breath, his sword lands behind you and takes off the enemy’s head.
None of the fight felt as clear as this moment, when your blade presses into his heart.
He collapses, right in front of the throne with you on top of him. The throne that should be undoubtedly his, belonging to him as heir. Tears fall from your face before your mind can clear. Like you know, soul to soul, as his lifeform slips through your fingers. He brings his hand to cup your cheek, as he had wanted to do when you laid like this above him in the sand.
“I did not expect a death so gentle for myself.”
His smile is so bittersweet that it aches all the way to the bottom of your heart. His hand slips down from your face as you finally come to.
“You will not die on me.” You gasp out, a statement said with so much conviction that the silver bell of truth rings in return. You call to your water immediately, a stream so fast it cuts into your skin but you don’t care.
A magic that can only be done once. You take the divine sword from the ground, aim the blade carefully at yourself – your own soul. Only this sword can make a cut like this, with the hand of the divine. You slice your wrist, and instead of blood, pure golden lifeforce pours out.
You separate your divinity from yourself, and you feed it to him. It will not turn him divine. You are only half-divine yourself, after all. What you can give is not nearly enough to turn a man into a God. But it will hold his soul in this world, let you do an unspeakable magic: an exchange of divine power for life, a process long enough for the water to heal his heart back together again. The hand you lay against his mouth shakes more and more with each second that your golden blood pours into him, but your other hand lays steady as ever over his heart, until you feel it beat once, twice. Hear him spurt out a breath.
You collapse on top of him before you can see him open his eyes.
~
“I see the prophecy has been completed.”
When Kaiser wakes, there’s a split second where he thinks he might’ve just ended up wherever souls go at the end of their line. There’s what must be a full-fledged goddess standing right over him. It’s only your warm body splayed across his chest that tells him otherwise. His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it.
Golden threads extend down the sleeves of the goddess’ arms. He’s seen the paintings. Fate itself stands before him.
“How could you do this?” He makes his disdain clear, lacking any respect one might give to the queen of the gods herself.
“I am sorry.” She answers immediately, and that makes Kaiser’s eyes widen just slightly. “Your grievances, you may relay them to me, if you wish. There is a bigger picture at play here, bigger than you or the water sorceress or even myself. The threads of fate are not woven selfishly.”
“You gods up in your clouds play with the lives of mortals. That has always been written in history. But to her? To one of your own?”
“She is more one of mine than most. The heir to the throne of the Gods, I would’ve entrusted her with my life. It’s why she complies with Fate in every life, without complaint.”
“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heavy too, are my hands, that weave the golden threads. You and her are one of many that have suffered by my hand. For that, there is no apology I can give. What I can give, well… Would you like to hear your full prophecy, prince?”
Lone Emperor who covets the throne,
You will die by the hands of the one you love most.
Forsaken by all the Gods but one,
Re-emerge, awaken, as the ruler you are meant to become.
In any other circumstance, he would be eager as ever to finally hear the full prophecy. But his eyes are only on you, your slumbering state as he holds you in his arms.
“What will become of her?” He asks quietly.
“She will be a water sorceress, as she had initially been.”
“She will die, then? Like a human does?”
“All things die, hero.” Hero. That’s what he is now, having been trial-passed. The title burns like bourbon down his throat. “Even the divine dies. But yes, she will die as a human, and be reborn again as the cycle permits.”
“A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.”
“Who says it would be simple? Besides, she has gone through the trial of the divine once before. Don’t you have faith she could do it again?”
The trial of the divine. He had not known such a thing prior to you. But if anyone could pass it, it would be you.
“I will make her my wife. I care little for the words or respect of the gods, even a queen like yourself. But it is my duty to inform you. If she will have me, I will wed her as has been planned.”
“The prophecy is complete. What happens now is too inconsequential for me to put effort into. However…” she watches you, teartracks streaked down your cheeks. “I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.”
In a blink, her form disappears.
“Kaiser!” Oliver’s voice echoes through the halls, taking big leaps with Noa to his side, skidding to a halt when he finally finds you both.
“The goddess-”
“She lives,” Kaiser cups your head into his chest. “Though she is goddess no more. A trade. Not a fair one by any means.” His thumb traces across your cheek, a state of his so vulnerable it renders Oliver speechless.
Noa approaches the threshold where Oliver does not dare. He rests his hand on the crown of Kaiser’s head. “Another chance at life is the greatest gift, and she has granted you as such. That is a debt you’ll never be able to repay her for..”
“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, then.”
~
It’s only in the aftermath, that you find out how deep in you truly were.
Kaiser takes a big inhale of the winter air. It’s fresh and cold. And with him, the nation breathed a breath anew, and the trial laid in ashes under his feet.
You’re facing the horizon of the sea when he finds you.
In the catch of the light, sometimes he swears he sees the divinity that had shimmered off of you before. It’s almost hard to believe, with the ring of water that floats around you, that it had ever left you at all.
“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, as it always is with you now.
“Relearning the water.”
“What does it say?”
“That I am still its mistress. Still a sorceress,” the water around you drops into the wet sand. “That its loyalty with me is not dependent on divinity.”
He places a hand to the back of your neck, easing out the tensions there. “But?”
You smile weakly. “I have to strain to hear her now.”
“Guess we can’t do that spectacle again for our wedding.” He cracks a smile, something to ease the ache. “Water holds memory, right?”
“That, it does.”
He grabs your hand, pulling you up and towards the waves. You yell for him, but the ocean crashes loudly around you both, and he drags you into the water anyways. Once you’re deep in enough that the waves drape over your knees, he pulls you in close.
“Let her bear witness, then.” He whispers it against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face. He kisses you, deep and with so much heart you might burst from it.
A prophecy unfolded, a fate changed, a life saved.
There’s a part of you that can feel an oncoming future. A sheathing that can block even the eyes of Gods. God-killing weapons that have descended from the heavens themselves. A potion that can cause madness in the minds of the divine. A war between mortals and Gods is coming, you’re sure of it.
But not in this life. In this life, you are a water sorceress, and he is a trial-passed hero. And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time.
author's note: ohmygod THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE tell me what you think!!! this is my longest fic ever so i really hope you enjoyed
“I suggest you stop moving around so much. It only serves to make the application more difficult.” Dan Heng’s voice is low as he speaks to you, and as much as you’d love to stop moving and make this infinitely easier for you both — It’s quite difficult to do that when you’re finding it particularly hard to get comfortable at all.
Your lips are pursed as you rest above him, knees on either side of his thighs as you keep yourself upright. The proximity between you both is almost suffocating, but it’s vital as you try to steady his face with your free hand, the other holding the liner brush as you try to get a little closer.
But then your hand twitches slightly and it makes Dan Heng blink at your own uncertainty. Making you scoff as you give your hand a shake off. “Well you’re so stiff it’s hard to get close.”
That was true.
He’s fidgeting and he knows it. Not only was this quite a compromising position for you both — it was painfully hard for him to relax when his only means of entertainment is to gaze up at you like this. Your features are practically ghosting his own and every time you breathe out an adorable huff of frustration, he feels it tremble along his features.
Dan Heng curls his hands into the fabric beneath him, and then he releases it again as he tries to find a more comfortable position. And then he clears his throat, almost awkwardly despite the neutral blink he gives you. “Be as it may, I trust you know what you’re doing?”
You answer almost too quickly, “Ofcourse I do.” before your hand is cupping his cheek again as you push yourself a little closer. Your eyes almost glow with determination this time, and he finds himself swallowing quietly as he looks up at you.
Dan Heng remains still this time around, “Well, just take it slow. Don’t rush.”
“I know.” And your voice is quiet when you respond to him, accompanied by a stroke of the red liner along his lower lash line as the silence over you both rests.
He never expected it would be quite this intimate. He’s admiring your features as you stroke the brush gently along his skin and he finds it to be quite relaxing. A lot more so than he expected it to be — though he’s not seen what it looks like yet, the narrowed look you’re wearing is somehow easy to trust.
But then, without realising — Dan Heng opts to find a more comfortable place, almost by instinct and without much thought. It’s too natural the way his hands seem to fall onto your waist to rest there and the sudden touch almost makes you stiffen, twitch as you pull away the liner brush suddenly to avoid a mistake.
It makes you have to take a flustered breath, clearing your throat as you pretend you’re simply collecting more product onto your brush.
But because Dan Heng’s been staring at you for quite some time now, he can identify the change in your expression. “What? Is there something wrong?” Though you’re not sure if he deliberately means to stroke his fingertips along your skin when he asks.
So you decide not to bring it up. But your hand doesn’t feel as steady as it did a moment ago when he looks at you, and it seems your canvas is looking a little more flushed this time around too.
alhaitham x mermaid!reader au
⤀ synopsis: mermaids, and their vanity, and their affinity for pretty things... who better to admire, than the fairest one of all?
⤀ cw: fem!reader, established relationship, mirror sex, fingering, praise, rough + unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, a lil bit of dom!haitham, overstimulation, cervix kisses, squirting, subspace, vry sweet he’s actually so in love — mdni || ꒰ 5.1k wc ꒱
⤀ notes: recommended to read the affiliated series, but it can stand alone as well ! reblogs & feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡
series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼
Mermaids and their vanity and their affinity for pretty things…
Where Alhaitham lacks in idle conversations, he makes up for in his acute observation; taking note in particular of the way you glance at your reflection—not only in the mirrors of a merchant’s passing display, but at every turn, and every corner. In the stained glass windows of the Akademiya, in the bronze vessels decorating Lambad’s second floor…even now, on your excursion through the Grand Bazaar, he catches the quick flit of your head as you peer at yourself in the fountain beneath Zubayr Theater.
Not that he’d ever fault a star for its beauty, when even the sweltering Sumeru sun is roped into your orbit—bending to your will as it dazzles behind you, like a halo in your backdrop. Perhaps the world is, but a shell…and a pearl such as yourself—beautiful and rare—ought to shine on a more veracious display. A familiar smirk plays on his lips, painting his handsome face in a devious shade of sly.
It’s clear from just your peripherals that he must be devising something terrible… Yet there’s a dance to your step when you stop him in his path; your hands clasped coyly behind your back, as you dip into his vicinity with your feigned innocence.
“And just what are you smiling for?” you lilt, shifting your weight forward onto your tiptoes. He leans over to honor what he can only surmise to be a wordless request, but you pull away before his lips ever have the chance to meet yours. You gleam in that coquettish smile of yours—one that sits so perfectly atop your playful flirtations. “Thinking about me?”
Alhaitham clears his throat, crossing his arms with a raised brow, despite the remaining wisp still tugging at the corner of his lip. “Am I not allowed to smile?”
By now, he can accurately read your tells and predict your actions: pursed lips and shifting eyes…all in a poor attempt to hide your grin as you quip back with something smart, or flirtatious, or on certain days, shameless—any of which might send a lesser man into a fluster. Not that he fares particularly better when it comes to you…
So he cuts you off while he’s still ahead, his strong arm easily pulling you back into his sphere, and with a tilt of his head, gestures at the fountain, letting curiosity guide you as it casts your reflection onto the waters’ surface once again.
“Just thinking about how pretty you are...”
And pretty you are indeed when he sits you between his legs, your bare back arching away from his chest as he curls his fingers in your cunt, hitting exactly where he knows you’d keen. His free hand kneads at the meat of your inner thigh, parting your legs wider in the process, your pussy lips following suit, blooming with the sticky sound of your wetness.
Alhaitham huffs, impressed, as he glances into the mirror standing steadfast before you both. Large and unwavering, it’s resolute in its honorable pursuit to uncover the truth—the one with your cunt propped open and your head thrown into the curvature of his neck. The one you’re clearly not yet privy to, if your eyes are squeezed shut in the midst of all your pleasure. It’s a shame, really. For although he’s never had the ambition to conquer the unknown verities, if such beauty were the splendor of all the world’s truths, then he’d gladly partake down this endless road—as a scholar or as a madman. After all, who better to perfect his limited human perspective, than the fairest one of all?
Tilting his head, he kisses his way up the column of your neck, feeling you curl into him as he paints intermittent bruises on your supple skin, stopping only when he reaches beneath your ear so that his teeth may tug lightly on its lobe.
“I know how you love to admire your own reflection…” His voice gravels in your ear, the rich baritone sending a shiver whose reach extends all the way down to your core. “So don’t you want to see how pretty you look?”
“No. That’s—” Whining, you continue to shake your head at the very prospect, ignoring the clear disconnect as you tighten and clench around the fingers still holed up inside of you. “‘s embarrassing…”
He hums from deep in his chest; thoughtfully amused at how such words could leave your mouth, when your cunt gushes as unabashedly as if she were attempting to lure his fingers further with a squelching song of her own. But there’s nothing to tempt, when there’s no iron will to break, for your bodies move like the moon and the tide: ebbing and flowing, ever connected, fates intertwined. Where his thumb spreads to draw harsh circles, your breath shallows in response, crying out at the sudden aggressive waves of pleasure that surge at your clit. Your nails dig into the sheets, hips lifting and squirming to no avail, as he continues to barrage you from the inside out.
“Haitham…” you breathe, and he knows you’re close from how you moan through sealed lips, brows furrowed and teeth clenched, until the disappointing realization that he’s pulled out. Your doe eyes flutter open, perplexed and brimming with spoiled petulance at his amused brow and little smirk, whilst at the same time, your lips part with all the intention of asking your lover ‘whyyyy?’, if only for the fact that he’s simply…faster.
Slick-coated fingers grasp onto your chin, slowly tilting your head down—away from that safe corner by his neck—so that you’d come meet him in the mirror, with all your vanity in tow. He holds your gaze, never turning away, not even as his head dips again so that his lips are level when he whispers low and sultry into your ear.
“If you look away, I’ll stop.”
…And so you watch as Alhaitham turns his attention back between your legs, spreading open your folds until they’re well smeared with your free-flowing slick. And you watch as two lithe fingers penetrate past your slit, steadily pumping slow, smooth strokes, before splintering apart to stretch you open in preparation for the third prodding at your entrance, eager to join the fray.
“That’s it,” he coos, though his low voice does absolutely nothing to soothe how you squirm against him at the…discomfort? The fervor? Perhaps even the discomfort of such fervor, as it’s become nigh difficult to tell, when his free hand has migrated to fondle with one of your breasts, roughly kneading the mound to double your sensations. “Look at you…”
Yet what is there to look at but the lascivious combination of your shame and desire? Both wrestle for a place in your reflection, battling to outweigh the other upon your visage…but it’s hardly a fair fight when shame has never been your forte—especially not when you squeeze around him so tightly, almost as if in resistance to how he’s scissoring you open.
It’s almost mesmerizing how your body reacts so eagerly: how your mouth falls open in a gasp and then a squeal, as your gummy walls concede to stretch by way of his provocation. Or that slight hitch in your breath, chest stuttering as you inhale the familiar stretch of three digits sinking into your cunt whilst you sink ever deeper into the watery depths of such hedonistic volitions.
Still, Alhaitham so greedily grasps at every open inch of you, ravishing your body with almost everything at his disposal. His chiseled frame looming behind you as he holds you open and bare, his grip the jaws of lust incarnate; his heavy breath crowding on your skin like a heated apparition of his own dire need to fuck and please and share in the admiration of just how beautiful he thinks you are—until like fine mist, it disperses across your mind, and the shame melts off your bones, replaced with only the desire for more, for him, for more of him.
“Haitham…” you mewl again, brows furrowing in an earnest attempt to keep your eyes open in spite of the rush, because god forbid he stop…
But it’s tortuous, the way Alhaitham pumps his fingers in and out—slowly, steadily—so that you’d see in your reflection, just how wet you are, hear every squish that sounds as he repeatedly buries himself three knuckles deep. Your slick coats his skin with a layer of gloss at every re-emergence, wordlessly conveying that it isn’t nearly enough to satisfy the burning ache between your legs.
“Please more… ‘m so close…” Pleading, you do what you can to muster your sweetest voice, your most honeyed cadence, in the hopes that you’d persuade him to your cause, rolling your hips to embody your words, furthering both his reach and your intent. For all the time you’ve spent with your lover in the nation of wisdom, it’s certainly helped to remember that only praxes can truly validate such words of honesty, and you truly are honest in your intent to cum.
“As you wish,” he hums, and his breath wraps around the shell of your ear in a warm embrace (though it’s hardly even an ember compared to the heat quickly ebbing in your belly.) The want amplifies by tenfold as he digs the heel of his palm against your clit, forcing another wave of euphoria to course through your form, as he angles his fingers in pursuit of where you feel him most.
Every twist, every curl, beckons at sweet release, as the tips of his fingers drag past each velvet inch of your walls at an ungodly pace, drawing out your orgasm with such magnetic fortitude that even your own lucidity seems to fade in the midst of such mental upheaval. It goes, and it goes, and it’s gone—as if the plug had just been pulled from your very being—and like a doll, your eyes fall shut to the joy of diving back into such revelry.
A sharp slap to your clit jolts you back to reality with a staggered gasp, your thighs nearly snapping shut at the sudden impact, while rootless static fills the emptiness in your stolen pleasure. Your perpetrator, however, only spares you a half-lidded glance whilst he continues to brandish the finishing touches of another hickey along your neck.
“Keep looking,” he issues, one part a command, the other, a warning. His grip loosens from your thigh, allowing your legs to fall just the slightest bit slack, before his voice softens and he pries open the lips of your drenched cunt, strumming through your folds so unbearably lazily, as you situate your gaze back into the mirror. “I want you to see everything I do to you…”
“Like how pretty you are when I touch you…” He dips a finger between your pussy lips, unfolding the rippling petals on his way up your slit, carefully paving the way for his place beneath the hood of your clit. “Here,” he drawls, rubbing at the nub so deliberately, that the sudden titillation evokes your instinct to shrink away with a broken, pitched cry; for wherever you squirm, Alhaitham follows, and backed against his chest, there’s nowhere left to turn, but forward at your reflection in the glass.
It's obscene. You’re obscene. But despite the disconnect with your head, your body still begs for more, and you think it’s almost pathetic how far you’ve sunk into his magnetism (though you vaguely recall it was once the other way around) that you hardly recognize the figure before you, so…distorted by the draw of lust. Your chest heaving with every breath that circulates through full, parted lips, your face bleary from carrying the heavy weight of pleasure on your lashes. Yet, the longer you watch, the more you glisten between your legs, clearly seduced by that perfect view of your own body on display.
Perhaps there is something provocative about the way your folds are spread, barred open by his fingers while he taps away at your clit. Perhaps there is some coquetry in the way your empty hole drools, some enchantment in how your juices shine…everything to flaunt how you need to cum—how you need him and anything he’s willing to give.
Your eyes begin to glaze, your focus drifting as you continue to stare at how your lover’s reflection so teases the hardened nub, every touch drumming your nerves with pleasure like the beguiling lull of gentle waves. At least your lungs seem to appreciate the monotonous pattern; your heaving chest adjusts to match his rhythm, the faint stimulus now an almost comfortable familiarity—one too easily shattered by the whims of another, as Alhaitham presses firmly into your swollen clit.
Renewed arousal swells in your belly, burning through whatever you thought had previously dissipated, and closing the window on any remnant of self-restraint, as you soon start to squirm with electrified impatience. Once steady breaths devolve into ragged gasps; your spine curves and your hips jolt, all from exposure to Alhaitham’s prolonged stimulation, writhing this way and that, until you inevitably grind against his cock, surprising him with his own throbbing rush of sensation.
“Do you see how,” Alhaitham grunts, gritting his teeth as he holds down a groan, “erotic you are…” Even half-dazed, you can feel just how hard his erection stands against the small of your back.
You exhale, waveringly so, as you steady yourself before releasing your grasp on the sheets, clawing weakly at his toned bicep in an effort to garner his attention. Between your misty eyes and sweat-mottled skin, disheveled hair and trembling thighs…there’s a delicate show of tenacity as your reflection holds his gaze, daring to dance with the devil you’ve chosen to submit to. “So show me what I look like when you fuck me.”
“Gladly,” he chuckles, and there’s a wicked glint that shines from beyond the turquoise, accompanied by a dim clang and a quiet rustle, as he frees his cock from its fabric confines.
A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat as his hands run a path along the concave of your waist, before scooping you up by the underside of your thighs, and shifting you further in his lap—spread open on wide display, behind the glaring pink of his leaking tip.
Alhaitham drags his cock along your slit, gathering slick from your fluttering anticipation, as he tempers the urge to plunge into you right then and there. He swallows the thought, giving way for the honeyed lilt of your name to flow from his lips instead. You turn, looking up at him with that darling half-lidded gaze, and he breathes in the sweet image of your pretty face. Please allow him to have one good look at you—the real you, in the flesh—before he fucks you into oblivion.
He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, murmuring something you don’t quite catch. “‘Ayouni,” he hums, aligning his cock at your entrance. (My love, my eyes—as precious as the gift of sight.) “Nour ‘ayouni…” His tip dips past your entrance, wallowing in the tight fit, before finally pushing into your quivering insides—a resolute promise to fill both your desires, and your cunt as deep as you’d take him. (Light of my eyes, anything for you.)
Large hands secure themselves onto your hips, easily crowding you in until your knees are folded before your tits and your back is pressed flush against his chest. Every bead of sweat stitches your bodies together, skin on damp skin, though only you are locked on full, shameless display; your body and limbs tethered to invisible strings in his hands—his little mermaid, his little doll—to maneuver and fold as he pleases.
A pitched sob breaks the thickness in the air, followed by a few hushed whimpers and stifled moans, as you watch yourself take him, inch by overwhelming inch. It’s never truly occurred to you how big he really is—at least not until now, when you’re confronted before your very eyes with just how much your little hole must work to accommodate his size. That initial stretch when he first pushes past your folds, and how it grows wider little by little as he forges on… (it’s no wonder you always feel so delectably full.) Or how you can clearly see the protruding veins disappear as he glides deeper (is that how he’s always able to touch upon every crook and corner?)
The sight alone has you pulsing: your greedy cunt quite literally drooling at the prospect of swallowing him down to the base, churning out more slick to ease his descent, and melting any discomfort into delight. As his bonafide lover, it’s one thing to be fucked beyond belief, but to see yourself completely surrendered to your lecherous desires, and entirely pliable at his behest…? What a terrifying way to solicit your pleasure.
Still, you’ve no choice but to sputter out a moan as your walls constrict around his shaft, drawing out a grunt from Alhaitham with how titillating it feels when you cling to him like this. His rasp reverberates on the shell of your ear, travelling down your spine like lust-tainted fire to pass the message down between your thighs. And although dew threatens to blur your vision, from what you can see in the mirror, it’s clear that he’s yet to bottom out. Even worse, is that you can feel the emptiness—your insides so cravenly wanting what is amiss—because it’s just so inherently wrong that you aren’t full enough, that he isn’t deep enough.
An urgent hand flies to tangle your fingers in his hair, as you turn to pull him into a wanton kiss, your lips just as greedy as your hips that grind on his cock for more. “Want you,” you murmur between tongue and teeth, exchanging breaths as desperation and uncertainty clash in your throat, and crack like lightning in your voice. “All of you, all the way…please…?”
“Aren’t you, ngh,” he pauses, failing to swallow down his grunt, as disbelief rolls in with another tide of arousal that pulses in his cock. His attempt to taunt, ruined by his inability to resist any longer. “Aren’t you shameless today?”
“Don’t care.” Though slurred, the words still tumble out of your mouth with a sense of urgency, your fingers curling against him, grasping onto the hope that he’d finally fill you. “Just n-need you.” In such a deliriated state, it’s difficult to tell whether you had imagined the way his breath rings through the hollows of your bones—the resounding echoes of a small, yet exasperated laugh reverberating through the very core of your being…but it was real, and his presence was there, and how could he ever say no when you’re asking for his cock so nicely? Per your request, of course he’ll drop you lower onto his shaft.
Alhaitham groans, powerless against the way you whine, tightening around him as he advances further and further, until he bottoms out with a guttural ‘fuck.’ He’s never had you in such a position, but with you atop his lap and gravity as his prerogative, it’s suffice to say he’s reached...
“Too..d-deep…” you babble, eyes rolling back as your words disperse into the same nothingness that’s engulfed your thoughts.
A soft tut tut clicks from his tongue, followed by a light roll from his hips…and suddenly your string of whimpers break into a shrill gasp as his eager tip kisses the entrance to your womb. Alhaitham is, after all, a man of his word, though this time, he lets his actions speak in his stead. (Where did I tell you to look, habibti?)
There’s little time to process any of his wordless cues—especially not when his stuttered breath is hot against your neck, the warmth just beginning to melt away the jarring discomfort of being penetrated so deeply, before equally warm fingers squish your cheeks to turn your attention back to the mirror in question. “Like what you see?” he whispers, and your dew-laden eyes flutter open to the sight of you and him: thighs spread, legs tangled, your hips on his, as you sit impaled on the entirety of his length.
All you can muster is a whimper and a nod, because what else can you do when you’re so overcome by the feeling of Alhaitham…everywhere? On your tongue where you can still taste his kiss, in your veins where his love circulates to your heart, and most obvious of all, in your cunt where his leaking precum swirls with your slick.
“Show me where you feel me,” he rasps, gingerly plucking your hand away from that wrinkled patch of sheets you so desperately latch on to. His touch is sticky on the back of your hand—no doubt the remnants of your juices still clinging stubbornly to his fingers, like a souvenir collected from his last venture between your legs—but he serves well as a guide: directing you along your abdomen, letting just the very tips of your fingers, ghost across your sensitive skin.
“This…” Starting at the apex of your thighs, he helps you along the path up your lower waist. “... is how far I am inside you…”
You can’t help but wonder if it were even possible to be buried so deep within someone, but curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand begins to move on its own, absentmindedly glossing over where you feel his tip so deep, it almost seems…taboo. Not that you really care for the ins and outs of such moral standards, especially when it feels so right to be stuffed so full. Or perhaps your eyes are simply playing tricks on you—dirty work done by the fog that’s settled in your head with the sole intent of altering your cognition.
“Don’t believe me?” Hand in hand, he presses gently down onto your belly, where even the slightest bit of pressure is enough to make you jolt. But from the way he struggles to catch his breath, to the violent throbs bursting all along his length, Alhaitham too, suffers from the repercussions of his boldfaced provocation—too human to act as if he’d been left unscathed.
For even as you cry in little songs of pleasure, your walls almost seem to be spinning a trance of its own: clenching and unclenching, the pulsating rhythm urging him to move… Which he obliges to of course—adjusting ever so slightly, until he’s perfectly angled and prodding at the divot that absolutely ruins whatever’s left of you, as you’re made to feel everything all at once. Every long, languid stroke comes as an electric current, reinvigorating dead limbs as the muscles come twitching back to life, conducting more and more arousal with every rough drag of his cock. Euphoria surges and sparks fly, overloading the wires in your head, with each thrust into the very spot that unravels you so.
“Keep singing for me,” he murmurs, content with how the shape of his name breaks into pieces of fragmented whimpers and moans, echoing across the room. It’s clear his words are largely lost on you—displaced by the fresh barrage of wet kisses down your neck, to be absorbed through your skin and used as fuel for your core.
“My beautiful mermaid,” Alhaitham keeps his eyes locked on your reflection; eager, despite his own fraying disposition, to catch all your reactions. “My beautiful mermaid…who always…”
His grip tightens around the meat of your thighs, while a dominant hand glides up to the back of your knee—effectively lifting your leg higher and spreading you open wider—before a quick, rough motion lands him somewhere inexplicably deep.“…takes me so well.”
You keen, nails digging into whatever they can, anything that might still tether you to this reality when every sensation has been ignited into something far too big for you to handle. Your back curves in response, arching away from his chest, but the shift in position only sits you deeper on his cock, and a shrill sob cracks from your throat, as your stomach coils and your teary eyes flutter open to the direct image of your reflection. In the mirror’s shallow abyss, your looming orgasm stares back as its own depraved monster—inhabiting your body and tainting your pretty face with lecherous intent, as it urges you to let go.
“Come on, let go…” Or perhaps the fiend whispering in your ear is Alhaitham himself. “I promise you’re just as ravishing when you cum,” he croons, speeding up his pace to climb the heights of his determination. “Maybe even more so…”
The sheer intensity of his rough fucking is overwhelming. The extensive depth, the meticulous precision, the impressive girth—they’re all things you’ve come to expect in the bedroom with your less-than-feeble lover. But to exploit your vanity, whilst simultaneously feeding you with praise…to hold you open with his own hands, to make you a spectator of your own base instincts…
It’s a dangerous combination. It’s too much. It has your entire body trembling as the pressure peaks—your muscles wound taut, and your pussy clenching tight.
“‘m c-cumming…” you sob, though your quivering voice soon falls flat from the sheer enormity of the orgasm that races to smother you in its fervor, replacing the blood in your veins with liquid bliss, and allowing that to circulate through every inch of your being, until it becomes the only thing you can even bear to breathe.
The name ‘Haitham’ tangles with your cries, and he loves it—addicted even, to the sound of you, the sight of you—finds it near impossible to tear his eyes away from that perfect view of your pretty little cunt, obediently stretched and fully stuffed with every inch of his length. Warmth blooms and engulfs him at his mushroom tip, and Alhaitham bucks by reflex, desperate to chase your waning orgasm with his.
He’s close too; you can feel it. The familiar (yet delusional) way in which each throb seems to fill you out even more, the relentless increase in speed and force, unapologetically running his veined cock along your sensitive walls, over and over until he drags you back to the edge. His own breath skips and stutters in his lungs, but still he punctuates each word with power and precision, jutting in as deep as you’d allow him to follow. “Just. Like. That.”
And so, when it breaks, it shatters—like skipping stones across the water, rippling and disruptive as they bound on and on in a path of hedonistic destruction—until your vision blanks, and your body convulses, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. Your release comes in a violent torrent, uncontrollably battering through your body as you drench him in your juices, leaving the remaining splice of your consciousness trembling, spent, and completely surrendered to the pleasure.
Somewhere in the white noise, you hear the echo of your name, said with a pleased lilt, as if he were…impressed? Proud? Maybe even both, for Alhaitham finds himself mesmerized by the undeniable, tangible evidence, that he’s pleasured you this far beyond belief. It’s surreal—the only word in any of the languages he’s studied (including yours)—that could even begin to describe such eroticism. For a moment, he loses track of his movements, lets his hips fall to an irregular rhythm as he fully takes to the reflection in the mirror: colorless, liquid pleasure still dripping from your hole, glistening as it runs down his shaft with every shallow draw…only to be pushed back with a squish and a squelch from the wetness that now finds a rival in the soaked sheets.
Without hesitation, he pummels back to reality, thinking only with his cock, as he pounds into you with a newfound ferocity that seems almost inhumane…but then again, a mermaid like you isn’t quite human after all.
“Can you, ngh, hold out…a little longer…?” His voice is low and strained, yet still retaining a softness reminiscent of morning mist above the waters, grazing wisps atop your skin. (Just a little longer, I promise.)
“‘kay…” The word spills from your mouth, melted and slurred into a weak mewl, too dazed to process much, other than the fact that you’d do anything he asked of you, even at your own expense. Just a little longer…(but ignore the tears that prick of overstimulation.) For him, for Alhaitham, anything for Alhaitham (in spite of how your body screams ‘too much,’ as you cream around his cock again, this time faster than all the others had come.)
Any sense of clarity found in your mantra, only serves to prove that perhaps your head truly has been scrambled to nonsense, because the only thing you could even fathom to think of, is the desperate need for him to finish inside you. For him to paint you with a white fire so hot, it’d cleanse away even the smallest remnants of your tortuous embers. The final few thrusts come sloppily—too busy drowning in your deluge to care—while the very last stroke nuzzles deep against your womb, as he fills you full of his cum.
Two sets of labored breathing resonate around the room, and in the afterglow, Alhaitham sets your frail legs down, knees buckling and knocking into one another, as your feet are finally brought to rest on something solid. (Though mentally, you don’t feel any closer to the ground.) Still, the drastic change in position shuffles his cock against your sensitive walls, breathing life to another soft groan that escapes into a silent harmony.
“Sorry,” he whispers, peppering you with soft kisses wherever his lips can reach. The unyielding grip, once pressed so firmly into your thighs, melts away—replaced by gentler hands that work to sooth the tenderness in your flesh. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” He readies himself to withdraw from your warmth, but you blink your bleary eyes, and the distant stars in your pupils illuminate just a fraction more.
Alhaitham studies the ‘you’ in the mirror; watches the steady rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evens out, and your red-rimmed gaze drifts down the length of your body. One of your hands absentmindedly wanders, delicately brushing over the dark imprints left upon the skin of your thighs, color-matched to the hickeys blooming along your neck and shoulders—each one a bruise forged from his passion. And nothing could ever attest more to the throes of passion than the very reflection of your bodies, melded seamlessly together: his cock in your cunt, leaking with shared essence.
‘How…beautiful…’
You shake your head in dreamy opposition. “W’nna stay like this…for…a bit longer…” Your words trail into a content sigh as you rest your head back against that comfortable nook at the juncture of his neck, angling just enough to still catch your reflections in the mirror.
notes2: mirrors in his kit -> mirror in the bedroom pipeline, am i right (๑>•́๑) … i wasn't able to complete this in time for mermay this year, so consider this a little something for kinktober, i suppose ^^;; but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank you so much for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡
jade this made me feel so ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა and ૮꒰ ྀྀི ɵ̷̥̥᷄ ♡ɵ̷̥̥᷅꒱১ and ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝꒱ྀི১ and then ໒꒰ྀི × ˕ ×｡꒱ྀི১ (jade ko) . . . i was compelled to pull out my ipad to leave scribbles in the hopes that it might convey just how crazy reading this fic made me LAKAJSSHSJAJJ but please you should not think too much of the incoherency of my commentary ACTUALLY you shouldn’t read my tags at all. for the sake of my own dignity (WHICH I HAVE CLEARLY LOST AFTER READING THIS HWAAAAAHHHGH)
gn reader. sfw / fluff. alhaitham writes you a note in the morning. domestic scenario. you stayed over. he’s very in love and i hope that translates. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.
It was quite often that ALHAITHAM found himself waking up before you in the morning, his natural body clock seemingly working against him when it came to allowing him a later lie in.
Though for some reason, he doesn’t seem to mind all that much as he rests on his pillows— flicking quietly through the pages of his book as you still rest peacefully to his side, breathing gently. Despite the way he’s been enjoying the words on the pages in front of him, he can’t help but find his concentration wavering— instead casting glances towards you, curious yet admiring looks that have him reading the same sentence a few too many times for him to have even taken any of it in.
Until eventually, he relents, and Alhaitham finally opts to bookmark his chapter before gently turning himself to face you, propping himself up on his side as he ensures not to disturb you with his movement.
You seem to be quite comfortable as you rest with your cheek pressed against your pillow, your lips are parted and your lashes seem to flutter cutely with your every breath. Like you’re looking around in a dream, he feels like he’s in one right now.
Part of him wants to reach out to brush his fingertips along your cheeks, to press a kiss into your hairline or smear one against your temple. Maybe even to pull you closer despite his looming responsibilities, he even gets as far as to let his fingertips outstretch. But then he watches the way your brows furrow adorably and he can’t help but let them rest there.
So alternatively, as to ensure he doesn’t wake you, Alhaitham opts to allow himself another few moments by your side instead, to admire you, even if only just like this. To let his viridescent gaze flicker across your features as he memorises your soft skin.
Until the moments turn into minutes and it takes much of Alhaitham’s strong will to push himself away from you, closer to the edge of the bed rather than closer to you like he wishes to. Though it’s not without a few more lingering looks over his shoulder as he stretches out the fatigue from his muscles, he wonders what you’re dreaming of.
His morning routine consists of much of the same as always,
Alhaitham gets himself dressed to go to the Akademiya quite quickly after his shower, only opting to satiate himself with a coffee in the morning. But for some reason, he seems to find himself looming in the doorway to his bedroom more times than usual, finding excuses to enter under the guise of looking for something misplaced. Really, he’s checking to see if you’re awake yet; if you need anything, if you’re waiting to pull him back to bed with you for a few extra moments.
Maybe if you were to catch him right now, he’d let you.
But instead, you’re still sleeping gently, And Alhaitham thinks you look quite pretty like this; your features are more relaxed than the adorable smiles and teasing glances he’s used to. Theyre pressing into the fabric of his pillow case and he finds himself hoping they’re soft enough for you, he likes the way they’re beginning to smell like your shampoo.
He even found himself tucking in the comforter over you, to ensure you’ll still be warm in his absence— though it may translate as no more than an excuse for him to spend a little more time by your side. Its further emphasised by the way he finds himself resting there, transfixed on the gentle rise and fall of your chest and your steady breaths.
It’s not like him to get like this, he’s sure Kaveh would have a lot to say if he seen him being so soft, though he doubts he’d believe it in the first place. It’s true, the feeling was something he was unfamiliar with, but he didn’t hate it nor find it much of a hassle. Well, maybe only when it would affect his focus, you seemed to have a funny way of ending up on his mind no matter what he was doing.
He often finds himself wondering if you’re content with the relationship he’s able to give you. Despite his confidence in his intellect, it was far more difficult to feel as reassured about his romantic compatibility. He was never one for the grand gestures or public displays of affection, and he hopes that you don’t feel that to be a sacrifice of the finer things in life.
Alhaitham may not be the type to kiss you in a crowd of people, but he was the type to find you in one.
But because he does love you, and he wants to try, he finds himself sorting through the endless piles of books and documents in his home for a stray piece of paper as he grabs his pen. And he lets it rest on the table infront of him as his eyes narrow down at it.
He was never good at this, with his words— though he finds himself writing a little more than a regular letter for anyone else would normally entail. There was a lot he could say, to compliment about you or tease at because he liked the way it made you smile. He wishes he could weave his love for you beneath every stroke of ink. But for now, he hopes this’ll translate in the same way.
Alhaitham keeps his footsteps light as he returns to your bedside to slide the folded piece of paper onto the table at your side. And he’ll offer you one last lingering look before he goes, something inside of him silently hoping that you’ll wake up in time for him to kiss you goodbye, but even when that’s not the case,
Loving you feels like enough anyway.
You wake up not long after he leaves, but it’s still late enough for his usual lingering body heat to have dissipated almost completely from his previous space in the mattress. The realisation makes you huff as you stretch, a small, drowsy sound slipping from beneath your lips as you do.
You shift to your side as you feel the previously tucked blankets around you pull from beneath your body, and it makes you smile to yourself when you realise Alhaitham must’ve done it before he left. You go back to pushing yourself a little closer to the edge of the bed to feel around for his clock with your next thought, making a curious sound when you find it, though not as you’re sure it was left previously.
It seems to have been pushed closer to your sleeping figure, like he’d known you’d reach for it first. But it’s also accompanied by a small note that finds its way into your hands before that when you pull yourself back.
Your eyes linger on the small piece of paper as you open it, your fingers tracing across the familiar cursive and you feel something begin to squeeze in your chest as you read.
“ You seemed to be sleeping quite soundly so I opted to let you rest. Should you require me however, you need only call. Don’t forget to enjoy a meal and factor the ongoing celebrations from the Sabzeruz Festival into your route home this morning, though i’m quite confident in your abilities, I would hate for you to run into any trouble while i’m gone.
Speaking of which, should you have some free time this evening, we could enjoy it together. I’ll be sure to leave some time aside in my schedule.
I’ll admit i’ve been awake for quite some time already. Yet, I find myself feeling fine despite that.
You were a disgrace to House Targaryen, the product of an impulsive wedding between a lost prince and some Essosi whore. You had little social capital within the Red Keep and few prospects for marriage, but that was alright. You were perfectly happy to stay out of the game of thrones, wed some politically relevant lord of Alicent Hightower’s choosing, and die in peaceful obscurity.
Unfortunately for you, Prince Aemond had other designs for your future.
5.8k words, aemond x fem!reader x jacaerys (though sadly, jace is not in this chapter). romance, childhood friends to lovers (except it's cousins), political drama. warnings for targaryen incest (between cousins), xenophobia/racism (depending on how you interpret the reader's racial coding), teenagers discussing sex, and a reference to underage sex in canon. the reader is half-valyrian and half-essosi, ethnically undefined. features are not described but she is considered conventionally attractive. dividers from @/cafekitsune.
I. THE HERMIT, REVERSED
You were a child when you learned that your mother was a whore.
Your father—a cousin to King Viserys—found your mother in one of the famed pillowhouses of Lys and brought her home as a souvenir. She was already heavy with you when they landed in Blackwater Bay, singing to you as your father cradled her belly every night. Though they had already been wedded in the Red Temple of Volantis, their union blessed by the light of R’hllor, it was your father’s wish that their love was also witnessed by the gods of Westeros. They were wedded once more in the Great Sept of Baelor, in a ceremony that was an affront to your grandsire, Prince Velarion. So wroth was he that everyone anticipated a terrible fate for your little family: the marriage annulled, your father forced into penance, and your mother killed.
But to the displeasure of Prince Velarion, one of the dragons chose you for a bond. (You were still in the womb when Wildfyre started clicking and squawking at you, and snarling at any man who came near your mother; he did not stop until you claimed him at ten-and-two, soaring upon his back through the skies of Myr.) The dragon keepers insisted that this was a sign that you were chosen by the gods of Old Valyria, so the lives of you and your mother were spared.
Still—your mother was eventually exiled, and your lord father wished to see her back to Lys. You had cried bitterly and begged to go with them, but your father said that the journey through the Stepstones would be too dangerous. He entrusted you to Viserys until his return, and then embarked on a journey that should not have taken more than one hundred days.
Ten years later, you still waited for him.
It was hard to recall when it was concluded that your father was unlikely to return; you only remembered that you did not accept it. The mornings and evenings of your early childhood were spent watching all the ships that passed through Blackwater Bay, waiting for red-and-black sails and a man you could now hardly remember. You only stopped once you flew through the skies of the Free Cities on dragonback, and not a single lost prince waved to you from among the crowds.
Your father’s disappearance left your position in jeopardy. The King could have easily taken control of his wealth and disinherited you if he so wished—as your grandsire was inclined—but His Grace instead decided that you should stay in the Red Keep and be treated like any other trueborn Targaryen. You were told as a child that this was an act of magnanimity, a gesture born out of love for his lost cousin, but you later came to realise that it was likely a self-serving move conjured up by Otto Hightower. Marriages were the easiest way to form political alliances; having an extra Targaryen lady to marry off was good leverage.
But despite your utility, you were still a stain within the Red Keep—a disgrace for the histories of the Targaryen dynasty. Nearly as great of one as Princess Saera herself, though perhaps still not quite as embarrassing as the three bastards sired by Lord Strong unto Princess Rhaenyra. Nevertheless, you were still a pariah. After all, children inherit the sins of their parents in the eyes of the Seven, meaning that your mother’s sin was also yours.
And so—when you were a child, you learned that if your mother was a foreign whore, then so too were you.
II. JUSTICE, REVERSED
Aemond was a child when he learned that people mistook you for a whore.
He learned this by listening to his queen mother, eavesdropping on a hushed conversation between her and his father. They were at a tourney, the crowd abuzz with chatter, which was perhaps why they were speaking so openly. The Queen stared at you as you sat next to Helaena, frowning at the closeness between the two of you. Being close in age, it was natural that the two of you spoke to each other frequently. You were a little older than all three of Alicent’s children and, as was common of a girl your age, you had prepared a favour: a ring of forget-me-nots interwoven with a ribbon you often wore. It was simple, but pretty, and it gave Aemond a feeling of deep distaste for some reason he couldn't identify.
His mother seemed to find it distasteful too. “Hard to believe she prepared a favour,” she said. She used the tone with which she often spoke of Princess Rhaenyra, the one that suggested derision. Aemond listened carefully, as he tended to whenever you came up in the conversation.
“And why would that be?” his lord father asked. He sounded defensive, also similar to the way he always did when his firstborn daughter came up. And as with Rhaenyra, Alicent seemed not to care for his sentimentality toward you.
“Well, what man would think to ask for it,” she asked, not delicately, “given her parentage?”
“Whatever you may think of her mother,” the King replied, “the girl is still a trueborn Targaryen. It is natural that she may catch the attention of some lordling or knight.”
“Surely not one with any faith, nor any serious ambitions in the court,” Alicent remarked. “Because she is—”
She paused then, hesitating. When Aemond snuck a glance at his father, he saw a stiff smile on his face.
“She is?” he questioned.
“...she resembles her mother more and more with each passing day,” Alicent remarked. “And one would think that she is similar. Foreign and improper in nature. A daughter of sin.”
Aemond’s brow furrowed. His mother spoke often of sin, of those who should beg for the grace of the Seven lest they be condemned to hell. She often reminded Aegon not to commit any such transgressions lest he disgrace the family, which he seemed to often do anyway. Aemond did not think you were particularly like his older brother, who stank constantly of wine and snuck off to Flea Bottom on every possible occasion. On the contrary, you were mostly well-behaved—except when you were quarrelling with Aegon—hardly ever indulged in any vices, and you only ever snuck out of your room to make miserable, wistful faces at the waters of Blackwater Bay.
And unlike Aegon, you were also kind.
Aemond did not know why exactly you had always been so nice to him; he just knew that you were unwaveringly so. Perhaps you felt a kind of kinship with him because he was frequently as miserable as you. For as long as the two of you had known each other, you had never once teased Aemond, and you in fact defended him. Just a few moons ago, you’d shouted at Aegon after the incident with the pig in the dragonpit, comforted Aemond after the fact, and encouraged him to claim Vhagar thereafter. To show up your ass of a brother, you’d suggested. And when Lucerys slashed his face open in the aftermath, you kept Aemond company for the entire duration of the recovery—watching them remove his ruined eye despite your disgust, keeping him company at his bedside when a fever took him, glowering at the Strong bastards whenever they came near him. Only his mother cared for him more deeply.
Aemond did not know what kind of sin such a kind person could have committed—what his queen mother should be referring to. So he turned to his brother and asked, “What does Mother mean by that?”
“Mean by what?” Aegon asked, eyes on the knights before the crowd. Clearly distracted.
“She called our cousin a daughter of sin. What does she mean?”
“Oh.” His brother glanced briefly at you, eyes considering. They travelled down your silhouette in a way that Aemond misliked for some reason he couldn't identify. “She means our cousin is a whore.”
“A whore?” Aemond asked, questioning. He’d heard the word many times, of course—sometimes uttered by his brother, and once lobbed at Princess Rhaenyra—and understood it as an insult. But no one had ever explained its specific meaning to him.
Aegon gave him an incredulous look. “You don't know what a whore is?” At Aemond's blank expression, Aegon explained, “It means she spreads her legs for money and is destined to go to hell. You know, like the women on the Street of Silk.” He paused, sizing up Aemond. “I should take you there someday, give you a proper education—then you’ll know exactly what mother means when she says ‘daughter of sin’.”
“I know what sex is,” Aemond replied defensively, though he didn't entirely know the details. “I'm not stupid.” He frowned then. “She doesn't work on the Street of Silk, though.”
“No, but her mother worked in a Lysene pillow house—much the same as the Street of Silk, though I hear the establishments of Lys are nicer, and filled with the most beautiful slaves from all over Essos.” Aegon looked at you again in a way that Aemond did not like. “I wonder if she inherited any of her mother’s talents. Maybe she’ll let me fuck her someday and I'll find out.”
Aemond felt a sense of disgust at the thought, even without fully knowing what his brother was imagining. All he knew was that he hated the thought of his brother putting his hands on you. “She wouldn't.”
“She would.”
“Would not.”
“Would too.”
“Would not! Who’d want to lay with you?”
Aegon scoffed. “Every woman from the Wall to Yi Ti, of course. Who wouldn't want to fuck a Targaryen prince?” He elbowed Aemond. “That includes you too, you know. Maybe if you pay her, she’ll let you have a turn as well. Then I wouldn't even need to take you to the Street of Silk to become a man.”
The feeling of disgust intensified. Not knowing what to do with it, Aemond kicked Aegon in the shin, making the young man yelp.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“For being an ass.”
“An ass? I'm giving you advice, man to man! Guiding you toward adulthood and a glorious night with our Lysene beauty of a cousin!”
“I don't want a glorious night with her.”
“Fine, then—I alone will enjoy her.”
Aemond kicked him again, and Aegon cursed. “Little shit!” he hissed, which—as Aemond had planned—earned him a violent shush and a glare from their mother. His brother gave him a dirty look for the manipulation.
“I don't know why you're getting all sensitive about this,” Aegon said. He squinted at Aemond then, discerning. “Say—is this jealousy? Insecurity? Are you worried that you aren’t man enough to bed her?”
Aemond glowered at him, which made Aegon laugh and clap his back.
“No need to worry if she rejects you, little brother. I know a number of skilled women on the Street of Silk, any one of them as good in bed as our cousin should be. After all, one whore’s as good as another.”
Aegon scowled. “Stop calling her that. She’s a lady of House Targaryen, not a whore.”
“Who says a lady can't be a whore? Just think of our Aunt Saerra! I guess you wouldn’t know, but she ended up in a pleasure house, first in Flea Bottom, and now somewhere in Lys. And look at our half-sister—mother to three bastards. I'm sure our dear cousin will follow in their footsteps. It's in her blood.”
“She wouldn't do that,” Aemond replied sharply. “She's nothing like those two.”
How could you be? Princess Saerra had been a vile person and Rhaenyra was a self-serving liar. Both Aegon and his mother had to be wrong about you—Aemond was sure of it. His mother treated you with such judgement, but he was certain you were undeserving of it.
He was sure of it too when his brother finally took him to the Street of Silk years later, and he bedded a woman for the first time. Sylvi was her name. She was indeed very skilled, and she was kind as well—stroking his hair afterwards and praising him for doing such a good job. It reminded him somewhat of his mother’s touch upon his head after Lucerys took out his eye, and the way you held his hand as his fever set in. But that was the end of any similarity between you and Sylvi; and in that respect, you were much more like his mother than this strange woman anyway. Aemond knew then that you were neither a whore nor a sinner. He couldn’t imagine you disgracing yourself like the girls who sold themselves at the brothel, let alone selling yourself to someone like his brother.
But his mother had been right about one thing: no one asked for your favour that day during the tourney. You’d sighed at the ring of flowers, looking a little forlorn, and tossed it later onto the floor of the godswood—an offering for the old gods, you'd said to the weirwood, because the new ones were shit. Aemond watched you from behind an ancient oak, waiting for you to leave. Once he was certain you were gone, he snatched your favour from the ground. He studied it carefully, eyes tracing the ribbon woven deftly between the flowers. He remembered that you wore it when you stayed by his bedside.
He untangled it from the ring of forget-me-nots, and he decided to take it back to his room.
III. THE MAGICIAN
Alicent Hightower was eager to marry you off.
The Small Council had spent the past several weeks discussing the prospects of your marriage. Without any parents to oversee your betrothal, the decision of your match laid entirely in the hands of King Viserys—which was to say, in the hands of Otto Hightower and his daughter. Alicent had very little love for you—no pious woman in her right mind would love a daughter of sin—but you were glad for her influence in some ways. Rhaenyra, before she left King’s Landing, relayed to you that Otto had brought up your future betrothal when you were as young as ten, but Alicent cautioned him against premature decisions. Let us not waste the opportunity given to us by her marriage, she always chided, but Rhaenyra had the sense that it had less to do with politics and more to do with wanting to spare you from the fate of a child bride.
But now you were a woman grown, and you were quickly becoming a nuisance for the Queen. She had been willing to tolerate your presence near her children when you were all young and she was charged with raising you, but she had recently begun imagining that you had corruptive influence over her sons. Aegon regularly talked of how much he'd love to bed you, which made her furious with him; and Aemond always insisted on having your company, which made her furious with you. Ever since your first blood, the Red Keep had regularly been plagued by rumours of your indiscretions with whichever knight or lord with whom you were most seen. Most recently, the most popular whisper was that Prince Aemond was your lover and you were secretly carrying his child. Why else would such an adroit and honourable young man regularly associate with the daughter of a whore?
Alicent had been apoplectic when she heard the rumours. They were, you supposed, believable. Her second son had always been strangely attached to you, nearly to the exclusion of all others. He didn't even treat his own sister with such affection—and he certainly held no such love for his brother—so a carnal relationship was a somewhat natural conclusion for an outsider. You, however, withered at the thought. Aemond may now be as comely as the Maiden herself, but you still saw him as the awkward little boy whom you grew up alongside and whom you constantly defended from his bullies.
Of course, his mother had no way of knowing any of this; she could only see the signs of a sordid affair between the two of you. That Alicent Hightower had raised you out of the goodness of her heart and you chose to return this favour by corrupting her son and engaging in the great sin of fornication was a huge upset. Not only did she chew you out in the throne room in front of King Viserys, utterly humiliating you—she also designed to send you to the Silent Sisters.
You could have easily ingratiated yourself to her with the correct penance. You could have distanced yourself from Aemond, as well as every other man in the Red Keep. You could have dedicated yourself to studying the Seven, immersing yourself in their grace. And most of all, you could have fervently denounced your mother and fervently renounced all sin. You could have made it clear that you were not a sinner, and especially not a harlot.
But you would lose respect for yourself if you did any of those things. You loved your mother too much to disavow her; you refused to practise a faith that would condemn her to hell simply for her profession; and most importantly, you did not want to distance yourself from Aemond. You had only three friends in this world, and that was only if you were allowed to include your dragon in the count. Your cousin Jacaerys got along well with you, but he'd long since left the capital, making Aemond your only companion in King’s Landing who was capable of human speech. (Wildfyre, though loyal, was not exactly a good conversationalist.)
All this to say, you simply did not want to let Aemond go.
In the end, you placated Alicent by making the somewhat extreme decision to invite her most trusted septa to inspect your maidenhead. When it was revealed that you were not, in fact, fucking Aemond, Alicent had no choice but to recant her allegations. Mollified, the Queen afterward extended an olive branch by meeting with you at least once a week. Repairing our relationship, she called it. By this she meant that she would spend an hour proselytising to you in an attempt to save your heathen Lysene soul, and then another hour discussing your marriage prospects. Better to be rid of you before her second son could actually be seduced by your sinful nature.
Right now you were both sitting in the garden, enjoying a pot of chrysanthemum tea in the sun. Alicent had just wrapped up an impromptu sermon about the Seven; now she was speaking to you about marriage. She kept talking about a Lord Stokeworth and a Lordling from House Tully. The former was nearly thirty years your senior and the younger was almost ten years your junior, but they were both willing to overlook the fact that people knew you as the daughter of a Lysene whore. It was more important to them that you were the blood of the dragon.
“Rivermen are especially difficult to make alliances with,” Alicent told you, “but they are bound by oaths and loyal to their kin. And I'm sure the lordling would treat you well. A marriage with a Tully would do well for all of us.”
“Rivermen are bound by oaths,” you said, “but they have already sworn loyalty toward us. They have never once expressed unrest during King Viserys’ reign, have they?”
Alicent stopped. She regarded you carefully, her fingers twitching—nails scraping against one another. She clearly wanted to use you to assure the loyalty of the Riverlands to the Hightowers, but you were unwilling to openly commit yourself to her cause. For the past several years, you'd been careful to wear neither black nor green, and this was perhaps both her greatest reason for not loving you and for not banishing you.
“That is true,” she said, “but Lord Tully has been sick a long while now, and his hold on his bannermen has loosened. Their allegiances are unclear. It would do well for the Crown to have more influence in the Riverlands, in case of any trouble during our succession.”
“I am still confused, my Queen. I do not think the Riverlands have ever been inclined to defy either their liege or the Iron Throne. They have all bent the knee to Princess Rhaenyra.” With this, you paralyzed the Queen: the only reason they would have to protest the Iron Throne was if it were ever usurped. She had just implied treason, and you would not let it go unnoticed.
You supposed it was a bold thing to point this out, but you really did not want to marry a ten year old. Ideally you'd wed a handsome lord with reasonable political standing, as far away from the Red Keep and the new gods as possible. The Riverlands were too close, and the Faith of the Seven was too strong there. On the other hand, Dorne, Winterfell, and the Iron Islands were incredibly far, and the peoples of the latter two followed entirely different faiths. Most importantly, the men of their respective noble families were quite handsome. You would happily live up to your reputation and debase yourself for Cregan Stark if the opportunity ever arose.
“If oaths were the problem,” you said delicately. “I'm sure the North could use attention. The Ironborn have always wanted for independence, and we have relied greatly on the Starks to suppress them. Or perhaps we could consider the problem of Dorne.”
“Dorne,” she repeated, her stare hard.
“King Viserys has always wanted to bring them into the kingdom, has he not?” She breathed deeply, and you added, “These are not suggestions, of course. Merely questions. I am eager to learn the wisdom of the only woman to sit on the Small Council.”
Let it not be said that you did not know how to play to people’s emotions. Alicent’s shoulders relaxed, and she took a sip of her tea. “These are good questions,” she admitted. “The problem of Dorne is too complex to manage with a simple marriage to House Targaryen, but the Greyjoy suggestion is intriguing. I might be inclined to caution the King against it, if he were to propose it. The Ironborn are a proud people. I do not think a marriage to a Targaryen lady would be enough to placate them, and a marriage to you specifically may present… a danger to the North.”
“You would worry about giving them a dragon.”
“Yes. But Winterfell…”
The Queen paused. You tried not to smile.
“Winterfell always honours their oaths,” you said, “but given what the realm asks of them, it never hurts to reward them for their loyalty. Who knows what may happen in the future?” Who knows what may happen if Prince Aegon were to ascend the Throne? “If a struggle were ever to happen at the Wall, I am sure Lord Stark and his bannermen would remember which queen sent him a Targaryen wife and a dragon in support of their struggle.”
Alicent nodded. She looked at you as if seeing you in a new light—a better one.
“I will speak to the Hand about this matter,” she determined. “I shall get his thoughts before the tourney in a fortnight, and see which families we should introduce you to then.”
“I shall prepare myself for it.”
“Good.” She smiled at you. “See to it that you are dressed well for the occasion. I feel that green would be a lovely colour on you—don’t you?”
IV. DEATH, REVERSED
“Hello, father of my bastard child!”
Your voice rang through the dragonpit, a cheerful echo in its near pitch-black depths. By the light of the torches, Aemond could barely make out your silhouette, but he could hear the lightness of your footsteps nevertheless.
For someone who had been the subject of vile accusations for the past month, you seemed awfully happy. You weren't always so thick-skinned, Aemond mused: when you were younger, he often caught you brooding in the dragonpit, sniffling at the way women talked about you and the way men leered at you. Any other child—himself included—would have been terrified to stay here, alone in darkness and brimstone, but your only friend for a long time was your dragon, so naturally his home was where you went when you were miserable. And you were very often miserable.
But you were now well-adjusted in your adulthood, apparently impervious to most insults and whispers about you. (What are they going to do? you often said dryly. Call me a tart? A temptress? That I belong in Flea Bottom? They’ve been saying that for years!) You had just taken the past month of scandal in stride, and now you seemed irreverent of it. It made Aemond tense: although he did not terribly mind that people mistook you for his lover, he still had appearances to manage. And he disliked it when people spoke ill of you. Ever since he had built a reputation as a respected prince, he made it clear that no one was to speak poorly of you before him. The only exception was his idiot brother, with whom he was meant to maintain the appearance of unity. The other day, he caught him monologuing about the ways in which he imagined Aemond was debasing you (“I hardly knew my brother had it in him! It surely had to be my cousin’s work—seducing the fierce Aemond One-Eye!”), and Aemond could scarcely hold himself back from maiming him. Still, his sword stayed within its sheath, his knuckles white and tense around its hilt.
He could not solve the issue of his brother with intimidation. Aemond could only caution you against fueling him: “If you keep talking like that, the whole of the Red Keep will start whispering about you again.”
You laughed. “Who’s going to overhear us? Will Vhagar be gossiping with Dreamfyre about our scandalous relationship?” You craned your neck, looking behind him. “Where is your old lady, anyhow? Can I give her a treat today?”
“Vhagar awaits us outside. You are always welcome to feed her, but the dragon keepers said there is a scarcity of lamb at the moment.”
“Ah, well. Let’s go find Wildfyre, then—I called for him earlier, but he didn't come. I bet he’s napping somewhere.” The two of you began walking, cutting a path through ash and crumbling bone. Aemond guided you around what looked like the fresh remains of cattle, and you thanked him, wrinkling your nose at the familiar stench of charcoal and rotting flesh.
“What you said about the lamb,” you started, “concerns me. Are the smallfolk short of livestock?”
“I have heard from the Hand that there is a sickness among the animals of the Reach, so the yield has been worse this year than most others.”
“How sad! I hope they’ll be alright.”
“The dragons are well-fed—the Hand has assured it.”
You gave Aemond a curious look. “I was speaking of the smallfolk, not the dragons.”
Aemond paused. “Of course,” he said, “the Hand will also ensure their well-being. I did not even think to question that.”
Truthfully, Aemond had not thought of the smallfolk at all, but he should have. Whenever he or Aegon spoke of the issues of the Realm, they were always your first concern—the farmers and the craftsmen and even the whores of Flea Bottom. Aegon said it was evidence of your commoner blood, but Aemond thought it was discerning of you. Were you born his eldest sister and not his eldest cousin, it would be evidence of your good judgement as a future ruler.
Though of course, if you had been his eldest sister, then you would have been wedded to Aegon—a thought that Aemond found exceptionally distasteful. In fact, the thought of any man touching you made his knuckles tighten around his sword, yet it was a reality that his mother had told him to make peace with many times.
Aemond, she told him the other day, looking at his tightly controlled expression, I know you have a great… fondness of your cousin. But the two of you are no longer children. It is improper for you to spend so much time around her. You would not want to compromise any future prospects for yourself, nor disgrace yourself in the eyes of the Seven. And god forbid you ruin her prospects. Your grandfather and I have been working hard to secure a good match for her—a difficult feat, given her parentage.
Unfortunately for Alicent, Aemond felt that the Seven could fuck themselves. And his prospects had always been lacking as the second son, but he would eventually overcome the circumstance of his birth. Aemond considered himself a loyal son, but he would not succumb to whatever mediocre designs his mother had for his future.
He would make sure that you would not, either.
“You seem happy,” he observed. “I take it your afternoon with Alicent went well?”
“Very well. I avoided a marriage to that Tully boy, and I think I may have even charmed your mother.” You flashed him a smile—one he'd been seeing since childhood, but of which he never tired. “She is now considering potential matches in the North for me. I'll likely be meeting potential suitors in the upcoming banquet—I do hope they’ll be handsome. And wealthy.”
Aemond did not bother trying to smile. “The North is very far.” He slipped into Valyrian: “You belong in the South, near skies filled with dragons and the waters of the old Freehold. You are a Targaryen, are you not?”
“I may be a Targaryen, but I am unwanted here,” you dismissed. Even after all these years, you spoke Valyrian with a Lysene accent, and—as often happened in private speech—you reverted to a vocabulary that was closer to the Low Valyrian of your mother rather than the High Valyrian taught by the maesters. Still, you were the only person in the whole of the capital more fluent in the language than Aemond; he only spoke as well as he did because he’d grown up practising with you. “The further I get away from the Red Keep, the less hated I will be.”
“But you will be alone.”
“I will have Wildfyre, my lord husband, and an entire castle of people to make friends with.”
“Or enemies of.”
“If I can charm Alicent Hightower, I do believe I can also charm anyone else in the Realm.” You grinned at him—though Aemond did not miss the careful look you gave him. “But if you're worried about being lonely, I can always fly back on Wildfyre and visit you.”
“You need not be concerned. I have many allies within the Red Keep.”
You stopped then, openly studying him. “It is—difficult,” you replied in the Common Tongue, “for me not to worry about you.”
His brow arched. Aemond could not help but stare, puzzled: you watched him enough on the training grounds to know that not only could he easily kill most men, but also that most men feared him for it.
“There are few people in this world who would worry about me,” he said neatly, and your look grew embarrassed.
“Yes, I know it’s silly of me. Why would I worry about the famed Aemond One-Eye, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Rider of Vhagar, and winner of countless tourneys?”
“Two. I've won two tourneys.”
“Well, that’s more tourneys than most will win in their lifetime. And I’m sure you'll win the one in the fortnight as well.”
Aemond did not see the point in denying it. “Perhaps. What of it?”
You breathed deeply, and Aemond could see on your face how much you were trying to be diplomatic. “What I mean to say is—you are a respected warrior with many allies. But an ally is not the same thing as a friend, and a sword cannot offer its wielder any reprieve. Sometimes I fear whom you will rely on if I leave.”
“You think I have no friends,” he said plainly, and you gave him a sheepish look. He did not smile.
“I’m just worried you don't have anyone you can actually trust here,” you explained.
Aemond would spurn the words coming from anyone else. He might even be inclined to intimidate them, simply to remind them of his position. A prince should not be so patronised.
But looking at you, with your worried eyes and furrowed brow, he thought of the two weeks you spent by his bedside as healed, and all those times you checked on him after chasing away Aegon, and how you took him dragon riding until he was as comfortable at it as you. You likely still saw the weak child he once was—a habit he could not fault you for, but which aggrieved him nevertheless.
He did not let his irritation show on his face.
“You need not worry, cousin. I do not need trust from anyone—only respect.” And respect was something he had in spades.
You gave him a dubious look, but relented. “Alright. Just know that you can always write to me, no matter how far away I am.”
Aemond hummed. He'd nearly forgotten your initial concern: the looming distance from him, the gap and loneliness that your marriage would supposedly create.
His mouth curled.
“I appreciate it, but I have the sense that you’ll end up closer to home than you think.”
“Oh? What do you mean?” Your brow knotted. “Has your mother said something to you?”
“Nothing concrete,” he replied smoothly. “But nevermind—let us fetch Wildfyre. We should fly out before the day grows any older.”
The thought of flying distracted you from all others. “Yes, it would be troublesome if we stayed out too long.”
“Where would you like to go?”
You grinned. “I'll race you to Spicetown? We can go to the market and be back by midnight.”
“Midnight?” Aemond sounded—was—amused. What a free-spirited thing you were, to be careless enough to return to the Red Keep with him after curfew. “This is why those rumours started in the first place, you know.”
“It was worth the trouble, don’t you think? Or are you going to deny me now?”
He could not. Aemond was a disciplined man—his goals could not allow for much error in his life—but he also found it impossible not to humour any request from you. He did not have many joys in his childhood, and he had never outgrown his habit of wishing for the joy you brought with your happiness. It was hard for him not to indulge you.
In fact, this wish you had for your future—to marry some trifling lord beneath you and move far away from King’s Landing, the place in which you belonged—would be the first thing he would ever deny you.
END PART I
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1.1k words
alhaitham cooks you a dish from his childhood.
in the apartment you shared with alhaitham, there was no explosive rage or hurtful yelling – there were no plates thrown or doors slammed or chairs hurled against walls that had seen more than they should have.
no, home was quiet and healing. it was ivy-crawled bricks, breezy curtains and ambient lighting that was a testimony to the soft-lipped love he spoke to you, words he learnt passed down from his gentle grandmother.
alhaitham would keep you safe; he promised himself the moment his eyes met yours.
love was gently knocking on the door to tell you that dinner's ready. love did not rage or come home angry – it did not yell at you over something trivial. love was patient and whole and kind. home was love, love forgave and repented and knelt to ask for forgiveness; love forgave, without a second thought, because love was home.
home was love, alhaitham was home, alhaitham was love.
between you and love, you usually cooked – it wasn’t that alhaitham didn’t want to cook, or that he couldn’t; well . . you were just better. better in the sense that dinner’s vegetables just seemed to slice and arrange themselves neatly in obedience to the ruler of the kitchen. somehow, you measuring seasoning with your tender heart always made it taste better despite his countless accurate measurements.
cooking in the kitchen was also where love was found.
it was in the sweet, soft light that entered through your kitchen window, perfect rays broken up through the trees outside – and of course, it was found in alhaitham; his built frame leaning against the kitchen countertop, admiring you and feeling a slight twinge of envy at your proficiency in the kitchen. dishes were cooked with ease and you just had so much fun, twirling around with your wooden spatula. you gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek before turning back to stir your pot of stew.
“ah, it’s going to burn–”
“don’t be silly, it’ll be fine!” the only thing he felt in the kitchen, with you at its helm, was happiness.
perhaps he could try once again? perhaps he could– no, he would. he would make some of that happiness with his own hands, laden into porcelain bowls to share with you.
the next time alhaitham walked into the kitchen, it was with aching arms heavy with brown bags chockfull of dinner ingredients. vibrant padisarah petals, marbled chunks of beef, plastic bags filled to the brim with rice grains and aromatic spices that left its mark on your kitchen. he knew exactly what he wanted to share with you tonight.
“you’re cooking?” he hears your footsteps as you bound into the kitchen, pattering against the cool marble excitedly.
“yes, i am. dinner should be ready in a few hours.” alhaitham lets a faint smile grace his features. you wrap your arms tenderly around his waist, burying your face into his back. he couldn’t see your sweet grin this way, but that was alright. your joy practically radiated off your warm frame.
“thanks for cooking tonight.”
he lets his hands work their magic – some sort of magic he still faintly believed in. it had been some time since he cooked something like this, after all; and much less a dish he last tasted in his last remnants of childhood.
in went the beautiful cuts of meat, sizzling over hot oil, browned then mixed with all the nostalgic spices his tastebuds yearned to remember. fresh limes, red tomatoes, sweet onions, everything tasty and good were then added to the mix. white pearly grains of rice were cooked and added to the pot.
almost done, now.
all that was left was to wait for everything to meld in perfect harmony. alhaitham found himself staring at his work. the rice was a blank canvas for the myriad of spices, with familiar love and nostalgia that this dish brought together in a pot. empty dishes and cutting boards stained with effort littered the kitchen counter, and he sighed in fervent exhaustion just at the thought of cleaning up.
“oh! don’t worry about the dishes tonight, i’ve got them~” you chirped eagerly, tiptoeing to catch a glimpse of whatever was making your kitchen smell absolutely heavenly.
“you’re sure?” alhaitham raises an eyebrow. “i can do it, it’s not a problem.”
“no, i’m sure – you put in so much work for tonight! think of it as a thank you!”
always so sweet, offering to lend a hand no matter how tiresome or bothersome it was. did you know how much of an angel you were? alhaitham lets another smile slip past his weary face. thank you.
he hears the timer ding! and immediately turns to the stove, his masterful work steaming and ready – it looked incredible. warm gravy coated every grain, beef chunks tender and pulling apart at the force of a dinner fork. it smelt incredible. it was warm, spicy, fragrant with every hint of nostalgia he added.
it smelt like home.
kind, inviting, warm, hopeful, home.
“it’s done!” alhaitham lets out a quiet laugh as you wrap your hands around his waist again, peeking at the food hungrily.
“it smells so good.”
“this one’s for you.” he nods, setting down your bowl after ladling steaming hot biryani into it. he finishes it off with a few padisarah petals, turning the bowl towards you.
“alright, chef. you wanna introduce your dish?” you tease, giggling softly and pushing some rice aside to reveal the chunks of spiced beef. you spoon a portion of the biryani into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully and savouring every bit of effort he put into tonight’s dinner.
“well, i wanted you to try something i grew up eating. my grandmother made this for me in my childhood years.”
you hear your spoon clink against your bowl as you set it down to rest, staring at him.
“you made me something your grandmother used to make for you?” there is a slight quiver in your voice as you comprehend his sweet words.
this wasn’t just any dinner, then. it was a part of himself that he wished to share with you. it was young alhaitham seated at the dinner table, waiting for the food every night made by his loving grandmother. it was when three wooden chairs were swapped for two new ones, when only a good plate of homemade food could make him push aside any grief. it was his grandmother’s love in a dish –constant, reliable, and never failing to bring a hint of a wistful smile to his face.
“i did. i thought you would enjoy it.” alhaitham smiles, looking up from his bowl to see you wear a sombre, yet grateful expression; but there was no denying that you were enjoying it.
you were loving every bite, immensely – it tasted just a touch heavier on your tongue after he shared – and it was beautiful. nostalgia was the most powerful ingredient one could add, and time only told the truth – everything tasted better, when made with all the love and care and conscience in the world.
one of the most beautiful things of love is that you can always find them in everything— and you can always see them no matter how long time goes by.
someone would guess you’d always recognize suguru by his ears: (he’s always embarrassed when you describe them as—) cute, elongated, and stylish even years after his teenage days.
it’s true, he keeps up. never missing a beat as to how to present himself as handsomely as can be. (and if he was ever considered a womanizer, that part of him has simply evaporated since the beginning of you. of us, he loves to say.)
or, some would assume it would be the way his nose scrunches together when he smiles deeply, eyebrows curving towards the other and eyes adorably creasing around the edges— in fact, you could swear you remember every single smile he’s given you since you first met.
that’s how memorable it is, that smile.
oh, what an angel. the sweetest treat.
but really, and truly, when years go by, and the youthfulness of man slowly becomes the maturity of the heart, that’s how you’ll remember him.
in your well-lived home, there will be no doubt left in your mind as to who could’ve possibly left this cup of tea at my bedside this morning? because it’s him.
there will be no question as to how did my favorite meal become a successful set of two on my dinner table? because without a doubt, it’ll always be him.
it didn’t take you long to realize:
no one else could have loved you just as much and just as well as he does— to have known which mug it is you love to sip out of and how long to seep the tea leaves, always teasing the childish amount of sugar-dipped teaspoons you love to indulge in.
because suguru loves you beyond words and the cheesiest expressions, (though please believe, he will never fail to spoil you with the random bursts of poeticism that pours out of his heart. unashamedly, in the deep of the night— against your forehead, against your cheeks, he will seal it all with a kiss.)
he loves you even more than just watching you take the first bite out of every meal he’s prepared— he considers this to be, single-handedly, the most tasteful bite he’ll ever get the chance to eat.
but it goes on, in a hundred different ways.
more, and more, and more. i love you more than that.
and it’ll always continue to linger within you, within the breach of your four walls, and into another life.
that’s how you’ll remember him.
beautiful, loving. you’ll remember him as everything.
KINKTOBER DAY 17 — APHRODISIACS. dan heng (hsr) x f!reader! ﾉ link to return to kinktober 2024 masterlist & taglist
it’s only natural that you’d try to play it off, especially when he had already warned you about this ahead of time. your bad, you’ll admit. unfortunately for you though, this aphrodisiac is one of the strongest, and it won’t be going away anytime soon.
CONTAINS — aphrodisiacs, hints of mutual pining, marking, wall sex, squirting (reader cums from him putting it in)
To your surprise and nobody else’s, Dan Heng was right after all.
A small part of you knew he was when he had initially warned you- advised that you stay on the Express because you’d make for an easy target, but you also couldn’t deny that you’d much rather join him than stay cooped up in your room all week.
Any time with Dan Heng is better than no time with Dan Heng, or so you thought. Maybe if you’d pictured this outcome in your head a bit earlier, you wouldn’t have tagged along.
But you’d also rather die than admit you were wrong.
The Express’ hallway looks hazy when you try to make your way back to your room after wishing him a good night. Similar to how the world appears when you’ve come down with a high fever. You think you can feel the blood buzzing in your ears, and it wasn’t even a direct hit. You’re certain of this fact- you’ve always been quick on your feet.
But this one has already started to make you feel lightheaded.
The thought of him taking notice of how your nails dug into his door frame earlier to prevent yourself from collapsing onto the floor haunts you a little. He’s so observant that you’re surprised he hasn’t said anything yet- besides a couple glances and maybe one or two concerned “Are you alright?”
Perhaps he really didn’t know, and you were just that capable of hiding the fact that you’ve been hit with one of the strongest aphrodisiacs in existence.
Though that seems unlikely.
It seems to only worsen with each passing minute. Switches from the initial dull ache between your legs to a sharp throbbing, and you feel so hot. Feverish. Maybe even delirious at this point. It takes all the strength in your body just to roll over in bed and flip open your computer to search if aphrodisiacs can actually kill.
You sure hope not. What’ll happen if you’re dead by morning? Having never kissed Dan Heng a single time?
You don’t even want to imagine a life with that kind of depressing end.
It’s possible that you ended up lasting for another thirty minutes at least. Maybe five in reality. Though it’s hard to keep track of time when you’re rubbing your cunt back and forth against your pillow like it’s the last thing you’ll do. Imagining that it’s him you’re straddling only seems to make it even worse.
You want him so bad.
That’s why after some time, you find yourself in front of his room again- head hanging low, chest rising up and down in heavy pants, and your legs barely able to hold up your weight. You don’t even bother facing him. Not when you can already tell what face he’s making when he says the words,
“I told you that you shouldn’t have come along.”
If you wanted to give him a sheepish laugh, it only comes out as a pained whine instead. “S-sorry,” your eyes widen at how strained your voice sounds, and you think you see him stiffen in front of you. “Do you think….. um, do you know to fix it?”
It falls eerily silent.
“..Please…? I can’t… can’t really.. ask Welt for help.”
“Don’t ask Welt.” His voice softens ever so slightly, but you think there’s something unfamiliar behind it. You suck in a sharp breath as soon as he takes a step forward to reach around you and close the door behind you— slowly, as if giving you time to change your mind. “I know how to help.”
Your first thought is that he smells nice. Really, really nice. You’ve always thought that he’d smell good, but with the way you are now, it’s intoxicating. Your knees almost buckle, and you hope he doesn’t hear you swallow a gulp.
You could just lift your arm and touch him. You could pull him in for a hug and take a deep inhale straight into his chest. You could bury your face deep in-
“If I were to help you fix this, then I would need to touch you.” Your eyes widen, walls instinctively fluttering around nothing at the suggestion. His words carry more weight to them, and you at least know Dan Heng well enough to recognize this as his way of asking if you’re okay.
And you’re much, much more than okay with receiving his help.
“Please…. yes please.”
Time seems to slow down as he closes the distance between the two of you— backs you up until you’re pressed against the wall and your face heats up. Your entire body follows as soon as you look at him, head fuzzy and clouded and you’re barely able to process just how close he is.
This is something you’ve always wanted. Maybe even dreamed about.
“I…” your eyes slam shut when you feel him hike up your skirt— slowly, and his fingers briefly ghost over your waist before he finally slots his thigh between your legs and nudges. “F-fuck..!” Your head falls back, back of your hand instinctively coming to hide your face— and he freezes.
That sensitive? You didn’t know it was possible for it to worsen. If you weren’t in such a daze, maybe you’d feel more embarrassed about it. “Close your eyes,” his voice is so close that it sends a shiver down your spine, “and let me touch you more.”
You listen. It’s a confirmation to him that you desperately need his help— because you never listen. “You’re lucky that you weren’t hit directly,” you feel him tilt your chin up, and a part of you wishes you could hold it— nuzzle your cheek against his palm— but then something suddenly clicks in your head.
“..You… you saw—”
His lips slot against yours the next second. Just one peck, and then another. It shuts you up immediately- sends a weird warmth coursing through your body and bubbles up in your core. Feels good. Feels good and he hasn’t even started. He pulls away, only to mumble a “yeah. I saw everything. I always keep an eye on you because you never listen..though I couldn’t make it to you in time” before his lips are back on yours.
To his surprise, you keep your eyes shut like he told you to. Maybe it’s all too much for you to take in, so closing your eyes and focusing solely on how he feels is the only way you know you’re not dreaming. Your body goes into overdrive, knees buckling as soon as he deepens the kiss and you almost moan when you feel him wrap an arm around you to keep you upright.
You’re practically melting. Melting into the kiss- letting him pull you even closer and letting him press his thigh into your cunt. Everything after that becomes a blur in your head. Where you end and he starts is something you don’t bother thinking about. It’s a mess of kisses— deep and full of tongue— and he trails them down your neck, ends just below your ear after he’s kissed every inch of your skin.
You’re certain he’s left marks, but his lips feel too good for you to care. The exact moment when he picked you up to press your back against the wall never registered in your head either. You only open your eyes when you finally feel him prod at your hole, and your heartbeat is practically thumping against your ribcage. “I’m going in. Hold tight.”
He starts to pushes inside, and your vision goes white. “Wait— w-wai—” You choke, embrace around his neck slipping, loosens just a bit too much and you sink down onto his length— mouth falling open in a silent scream as soon as he bottoms out in one rough motion.
It hits you all at once. A violent orgasm that rips from deep inside you- one you’re not quite familiar with- has you screaming into his shoulder, nails digging into the muscles of his back as you gush all over him. He practically growls at the feeling, fingers digging into your thighs even when they tremble and jerk against him.
The room falls silent aside from your panting and his breathing. Your walls spasm around his thickness- strongly feeling the aftershocks, and he feels your slick dripping down his cock and onto the floor beneath you.
“‘S n-no fair at all,” you whimper, “feels too good. I’m almost scared—”
“Don’t say things like that.” If it was even possible, he holds you even closer. Even with the softness in his voice, you can tell he’s struggling to hold back. “You don’t need to think about anything,” he reminds you, “just hold tight and let yourself feel everything.”
KINKTOBER DAY 9 — PREDATOR ﾉ PREY. gallagher x f!reader ﾉ delivering this basket to your grandmother sounds easy enough until you find out 1) she’s not home and 2) someone else is.
NOTE — submission for @pixelcafe-network’s challenge friday #4. i was assigned little red riding hood for our fairytale theme!
CONTAINS — established relationship; acting ﾉ role playing. predator/prey (wolf!gallagher), tw consensual non-consent (tw cnc), oral (receiving), muffling (glove), fingering, squirting, overstim, pet names, fear play & size kink if you squint ^^;
ᘏ explicit smut (18+) — link to sign up for my taglist & to view mlist!
The forest seems to be much quieter than usual.
You subconsciously pick up the pace to ease your mind. It’s as if the birds have unanimously decided to go somewhere else to sing— and even the rabbits you typically feed on your way to your grandmother’s place are nowhere to be found today.
It’s completely silent aside from your own footsteps— the only noise apart from the thoughts in your head. It’s a bit odd, you think… the sun is still out, and the weather has been clear lately. Absolutely nothing’s wrong— from what you can see, at least.
Is it just something in the air today?
You’re struck with a sense of uneasiness as soon as you reach her home. Even her door looks a bit ominous. Certainly not as cheerful and inviting as you’ve grown used to, but you chalk it up to your nerves from the strange silence. A knock would probably be fine.
Your hand hovers hesitantly over the door before you swallow your paranoia and knock once, gulping when the noise practically echoes throughout her home.
A chill runs down your spine. “..Hello?”
It falls silent again, and the fear returns to your chest. “..Grandmother? I brought you a basket of goods from the village…”
The door seems to creek open on its own at this— just enough for you to nervously peer inside. It’s empty… and normal. Everything seems to be in place- as if your grandmother had simply just vanished from the Earth. It sends another wash of nerves down your spine, but you shake it off and continue towards her bedroom.
“It has….” you call out to no one in particular, taking slow, cautious steps down the hall. “..Apples. We baked you a cake too. It’s small though— we put some strawberries in it— um.. G-Grandmother?”
You stiffen as soon as you enter her bedroom, as if on instinct. Something isn’t right- your mind must be playing tricks on you. She’s.. she’s in bed? She still doesn’t say anything to you, even when the old wood creeks underneath your weight.
It’s not right— doesn’t look right. Something’s very, very off about this. Every muscle in your body locks in place when you try to speak. “Who…. who.. are you?”
Whatever is hiding behind the blankets starts to move, and you stumble a couple steps backwards, eyes widening when it finally looks back at you— or you should really say— when he finally looks back at you.
Your heart gets stuck in your throat. That is not your grandmother.
The fight or flight response takes less than a second to kink in. You’re running faster than you think you’re even capable of, racing to the door before you could manage to let out a single scream. The world is reduced to a blur when you swiftly turn the corner—
It’s right there. You hear him chasing after you, but the door is right there. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Just a little further and—
A large hand loops around your wrist, and your body suddenly jerks backwards. “O-ow—mmph!” You stumble backwards before your back roughly collides against his chest, and the other hand clasps around your mouth only a second later.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you hear him chuckle when you try to claw against his arm, “just where do you think you’re going?”
He’s strong- and you’re sure he knows this. Doesn’t hesitate when he lets go of your wrist to snake an arm around your waist and pull you flush against him. His arms feel big around you too.
“Hmmm…” he hums, and you gasp when you feel him dip down to take a sharp inhale directly into your pulse point, “not so fast, you lil’ rabbit.”
He laughs a bit when you try to say something against his palm. Laughs hard enough for you to feel the vibrations of his chest. His body feels warm when he tightens his embrace around you— and it’s only then when you realize whatever’s pressing into your ass feels even warmer. It feels big.
“There’s no need to panic…”
You struggle anyways. Push and jerk back hard enough to stumble and fall onto your knees, and he takes the opportunity to pin both your hands behind your back and hold you still for him.
“W-wait!”
“Hm?” He suddenly stills behind you, and the hold on your wrists loosens a little. You don’t say anything else. No mention of that word that’ll get him to stop in an instant… nothing but an impatient sway of your hips.
He lets out a gentle sigh.
“Don’t make so much noise,” he flips up your dress, and you suck in a deep breath. “It’s nothing personal. Wolf’s gotta eat. And you happen to look delicious.”
“I-I’m.. not. Please don’t kill me,” you start to beg, craning your neck to plead with the man looming over you. “I don’t think— don’t think I’ll be delicious.”
He laughs at this too. Enough to let go of your hands, and your palms slam onto the wooden floor to catch yourself from falling. “Oh, you’re just too cute, aren’t you? Making deals with a wolf? What a bold, bold girl you are.”
Your eyes widen when he slips off a glove before balling it up in his fist. “Okay then. Just one taste. If you make it, then that’s good for you, isn’t it?”
It’s your only shot. Your only chance. You give in and nod, and the smile he returns sets the deal in stone. You’d be the helpless bunny under him, and he’d be the hungry wolf.
“Mm—!” the glove is roughly pushed into your mouth the next moment, and he’s pulling your hips back towards him. “Can’t have you making too much noise, sweet bunny. What if the other animals hear and want a taste of my meal? We can’t have that, can we?
“So better behave yourself.”
You clench your eyes shut. It’s the only way you can hide. You close them tight, ball your fists up and wait for him to have his way. It doesn’t help that you’re soaked— you know you are, and you know he’ll say something about—
“Soaked through your panties?”
He pulls the fabric aside to press his palm over your cunt, and a needy whine threatens to slip out. “What? Dying to get eaten out here?” Gallagher puts a little more pressure into it now— pushes his fingertips against your clit and you jolt. How sensitive. Exactly what he wants.
“N-no! I’m not..”
“Oh,” a deep laugh erupts from his chest again, “really now? Then how do you explain this mess?”
He slides a finger inside, and the noise that follows makes your face burn. That wet? Actually that wet? No way.
“A—ah!”
He never planned on letting you respond in the first place. He starts lewdly fucking the digit in and out of you, curling it deep inside you and it’s loud. It’s embarrassing. Your thighs start to tremble from the movements— body instantly recognizing the familiar touch.
Just like a domesticated pet. “Mm. You’re drenched.”
“Gonna cover me in it before we even start?” You shake your head adamantly, and he huffs. “Haven’t even gotten a taste yet, bunny.”
“So… let’s see. Let me… take a look first.”
Every muscle in your body freezes when you feel his breath fan against your cunt. He’s so close— you can feel each exhale against your clit— feels good. Feels really, really good.
“U-um…” you mumble into your arm.
“That’s just right,” he laughs, and your walls flutter around nothing. The position he’s holding you in makes your heart pound. You’ve never had it like this. Cheek pressed against the floor and your hips held up high for him. There’s nothing for you to grab onto— nothing to hold— leaves you with no other choice but to hide your face in your arms and let him have you however he wishes. “What a treat. I’m gonna devour you whole.”
D-Devour?
It happens too fast for you. Starts with one, slow, long stripe up your cunt— he uses the flat of his tongue to get a good taste of you and you shiver and whimper.
Gallagher stills, tongue still flat against your cunt. The noise that leaves his throat next is akin to a growl— rumbles against your clit and fills your core with heat— and then it’s over just like that. The grip around your hips tighten abruptly, and he’s buried deep in your cunt the next second.
“A-ah!” You cry into your own hands, eyes rolling back into your skull. It’s messy— nothing short of primal. He laps at your cunt, flicks his tongue at your clit and pulls you flush against his face. You can’t run from it— can’t squirm or budge with the way he’s holding you like captured prey. “F-fuck!” You manage to choke out a curse, and you feel him laugh against you again.
“A vulgar little bunny, aren’t you? Thought I told you not to attract others to my meal, didn’t I? Where’s the silence?” His grip around your thighs tighten, and you yelp. “I don’t like getting distracted while I eat.”
Your hands clasp harder against your mouth as soon as the words register in your ears. Eyes clenched shut, thighs going numb, and the sound of him devouring you whole is even louder than you could ever be.
It all feels too good. Way too good. Too good for your mind to even comprehend that you’re getting close.
You don’t expect your orgasm to hit you like a truck. It comes out of nowhere and you cum hard, screaming into your fingers as you gush all over his face.
But he doesn’t stop. In fact, he doesn’t react at all. Gallagher doesn’t slow down even when you twitch and tremble violently from the aftershocks.
“A-ah, I— wait…!” He gives another squeeze around your thighs, and you think you get the message.
oh to bury your face in al haitham’s clothes after he’s spent a whole day sweating and toiling beneath the scorching sumeru sun ): nuzzling into the dampness of his compression shirt and humping his discarded boxers ): falling dizzy at the scent of his musk that melts into the heady oud of his cologne ): kissing away those hot pearls of sweat that dribble down the planes of his chest, the pulsing veins that lead you down south to the sticky tack of his pubes ):
⌕ pairing: dad alpha!toji fushiguro x daughter omega!reader
⌕ warnings: BLOODCEST, reader goes into heat, piv sex, use of dad/daddy/papa, kind of subspace-ish but just bc of heat, knotting, toji is guilty as hell, a/b/o stuff like pheromones/scent/slick, toji is a dominant alpha, crying. dead dove do not eat! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED
⌕ word count: 2.7k
MORE A/B/O-TOBER HERE!
This was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime. You and your beloved father had planned this vacation months ago, with the hopes of finally having a full two weeks of father-daughter alone time you two had so desperately been craving recently. Between both of your demanding jobs, respective social lives, and other various responsibilities, you barely even got to see each other anymore, outside of when you both came home at night. It had been a rule that you were to eat dinner together every night, and you had upheld that for a long time, but it had gotten to the point where it was no longer feasible.
So, the solution to missing each other? A two weeklong trip to the beach town of your dreams, at an all-inclusive resort that your wonderful dad had spent months saving every last cent to pay for. He had said it wasn’t right to force his beautiful daughter to pay even a single dime for this trip. It was his gift to you. Your gift to him? Just your presence and love.
To be quite honest, you and your dad had a… less than conventional relationship. Your friends found it odd that you still lived with him even though you were plenty financially stable enough to go out into the world on your own, and would surely have much more freedom in doing so. But you just couldn’t leave your beloved dad. Not when he loved you the way he did, cherished you and pampered and spoiled you at every turn. Who in their right mind would ever give that up? Certainly not you. You made it a point to never mention to others that you still slept in his bed every night, put to sleep by his strong arms wrapped tightly around you as you breathed in each other’s familiar scents.
When planning the vacation, you had made sure to schedule it in a timeframe where you would not be in your heat. They had always been fairly regular, so you had just done the math and planned it for when you’d be in the clear. Toji was more than happy to do so, as he wanted you to enjoy this trip completely uninhibited, especially from something so debilitating as a heat. Toji himself wasn’t too worried – in his older age, his ruts had slowed down pretty significantly, and even then, they weren’t ever severe enough to truly hinder his day-to-day life too much.
To say the vacation was much needed would be a vast understatement. The stress of busy lives had melted off both of your shoulders as you basked in the sun on white sand beaches, calmed by the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and sipping fruity cocktails served in coconuts. At night you’d go out dancing, grinding against each other in a drunken haze amongst people who didn’t know your familial relations. Sure, the age difference was apparent, but they didn’t know Toji was your dad. It was so freeing. And if he had kissed you soft and sweet on the dance floor? That secret would go with you to your graves.
Of course, with your luck, the magic couldn’t last forever. In the afternoon of the fifth day, you had started to feel… odd. Twitchy. A little foggy. Your skin felt hotter than normal, but you chalked it up to too much time in the tropical sun. The strange tingling between your legs was just because of… something. Whatever. Nothing was to ruin the vacation of your dreams, so you’ll ignore, ignore, ignore. No need to pay attention to such silly things.
Until it got worse. You had uncharacteristically asked Toji not to cuddle you to sleep that night, which he found profoundly odd, but your skin felt like it was on fire. The thought of anyone else touching you, even your dad, sounded like hell.
And then… even worse. In the wee hours of the night, you woke up gasping and whining. You felt hot all over, a sheen of sweat coating your body. Everything ached, your head felt fuzzy and sharp at the same time, and you could barely breathe. The worst, though? You were so painfully horny, your cunt throbbing and leaking, it was pure misery. There was no denying it anymore – you were in heat. Immediately, you began to panic. This was not supposed to happen.
The only thing you could think to do in your haze was shake the man next to you awake.
“Dad, daddy, please wake up,” you whined, shaking him by his arm.
“Wha- what it is it, sweetheart? Everything okay?” Toji mumbled gruffly, eyes still closed and clearly still mostly asleep.
“I’m in heat.”You could barely get the words out, speaking suddenly feeling impossible.
That woke him up quickly, lurching up. What? W-what do you mean?”
“Heat,” you repeated. “I-I’m in heat,” you damn near cried.
The heat pooling between your legs was getting more unbearable by the second, groaning as you cupped your hand over your throbbing pussy.
“Why? How? We-we planned around it!” he stuttered, staring at you with wide eyes. It was unmistakable, the presentation – despite never seeing you in one for long, he had witnessed the beginning phase of it multiple times.
What really tipped him off, though was your scent. The whole suite reeked of your sickly-sweet scent, pheromones emanating off your shivering body in droves. To say Toji wasn’t affected by it would be a lie. In fact, he scooted back in the bed to try and escape the potent yet divine odor, but there truly was no escape.
Toji wants to panic, unsure of what to do in this shocking moment, but it’s clear you’d beaten him to it. Hyperventilating and scratching at your skin, the panic of an incident so interruptive really settling in. He had to comfort you, and fast.
“Hey, hey, sweetheart, calm down,” he attempts, gathering you in a tight hug to try and soothe you. “It’s okay, I promise. Daddy’s here.” That was the problem. Only daddy was here – no heat partner in sight. While you had no real partner, you had a few alpha friends who didn’t mind helping you out during your heats to ease the pain. Of course, those same friends were a plane ride away, and it’s not like you could ask the alpha next door if they could knot you.
As his eyes trailed down your body, he gulped when he saw the crotch of your sleep shorts was soaked in slick. Fuck.
Fat crocodile tears ran down your burning cheeks as you sobbed in his arms, and all Toji could do was hug you close and rock you side to side. With you so close to him, he had no choice but to inhale your bleeding scent, and he wishes he could rip his nose off. This is not good.
Resigning himself to the situation at hand, Toji sighed. There’s only one way out of this – unless he just locked you in the suite to suffer through your miserable heat alone.
“Calm down, baby, daddy’s gonna help you, okay? Daddy will help you.”
“R-really?” you sniffled, pulling back to look your dad in the eyes, gauging his sincerity.
“Of course, baby. Daddy’s gonna make you feel all better, okay? No need to worry anymore.”
Saying that Toji had never had thoughts like these about you before would be far, far, from the truth. In fact, he’d lost count of the times he’d jerked off in the shower to the thought of burying his cock so deep inside you, you couldn’t breathe, but he always watched the cum swirl down the drain in shame. And you, the same. Your fingers never felt as good as you’d imagined Toji’s would. Even though you were closer than the average father-daughter duo, the two of you had never crossed that line. At least, not yet.
But now, your brain was so addled by this primal state that the implications of what your father was promising you meant nothing. All you could think about was relief.
Toji gulped. There’s no going back now.
“Lay on your back, baby.”
You quickly do as your told, movements far from graceful as you fell from his arms and stumbled back on the bed. Maybe he could just get away with a quick fingering – maybe that would put you back to sleep for now.
Slithering a hand down your sleep shorts, Toji shivered when he felt how soaking wet you were. Pressing the tip of his ring finger just at the rim of your hole had you whimpering, head falling back against the pillow and gripping his arm tight.
“More, please,” you groaned, eyes screwed shut.
“Okay, sweetheart.”
His ring finger slipped into your hole with shocking ease, absolutely no resistance. Clearly your body was well beyond desperate. The gasp and groan you let out was one of pure desperation and distress. The thick finger inside you surely felt nice, but it was still only one – you needed much more.
“More, more,” you whined, gripping his wrist and attempting to force him further inside you.
Toji’s heart pounded in his chest, dread filling his entire body and chilling his blood as the realization that his fingers would almost certainly not be enough. Even worse, the lethal combination of your scent, slick, and whines sent blood rushing south. Fuck.
A second finger dipped inside you, and he began slowly pumping them in and out of your hole, scissoring his fingers apart in a hopeless attempt filling you up enough to beget enough relief. It was simply futile.
Whines and whimpers filled the suite as you bore down on his fingers, taking it into your own hands to push him further inside you. The arousal churning through your veins was intolerable and it just wasn’t enough.
Throwing your arms around his neck, you yanked him towards you, making him stumble and almost collapse on top of you. Hot, frantic breaths fanned across his face as you pressed your forehead against his, involuntary guttural groans escaping your throat.
“Dad, please,” you begged. “P-put it in.”
His heart stopped, blood running cold at your desperate request. Once you crossed that line, you could never go back. Hearing your pained moans though, was addling Toji’s judgement.
“Honey, I…” he started, fingers still pumping in and out of you in hopes of keeping you slightly satiated. “I don’t know…”
Toji fought hard to maintain his composure, but the fact of the matter was, he was still an alpha - and a dominant one at that. Though middle age had relieved him of some of the more undesirable, undeniable traits of such a label, he was only human. One could only fight biology and primal instinct for so long.
“Fuck it.”
Pulling away his fingers despite your protests, he roughly yanked off your shorts and panties, flinging them off the side of the bed before throwing your legs over his shoulders. Tugging his boxers down just enough to pull out his aching cock, wasting no time at all as he forcefully thrusts into you, bottoming out immediately. Your cries were almost certainly loud enough to be heard outside your room, but neither of you could give less of a fuck.
Guttural groans tumbled out of Toji’s mouth as he basks in the feeling of your tight, wet heat clenching hard around his length, thrashing underneath him. Despite his considerable endowment, you had not a single complaint, your pussy clearly frantic to be filled.
“Daddy!” you cried out, throwing your arms around his neck and panting deeply, chest heaving.
“It’s okay sweetheart,” Toji assured, resting his forehead against yours. “Dad’s got you. It’ll be okay.”
It’s not long before he’s building up a considerable rhythm, fucking you hard and deep as you keened underneath him with a constant stream of whimpers and cries. The wet, sticky sound of skin on skin was sweet music to Toji’s ears, encouraging him to pick up the pace – something you were more than happy about.
The primal alpha instincts in him had him digging his nose deep into your neck just over your scent gland, huffing your potent scent like the sweetest drug, soaking up your pheromones that emanated from you. He wasn’t even aware of the way his own pheromones had mixed with yours, the musky odor clouding your senses. It was like you were made just for him, and he just for you. Your pheromones swirled together and encased the both of you in a blissful bubble of primitive desire and ecstasy.
The sex was messy, sloppy, and uncoordinated, having lost any sort of real rhythm in favor of frantically rutting into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every desperate thrust. A tiny voice in the back of Toji’s head, what was left of his rational mind, wondered if maybe your heat had catapulted him into rut, but that was no concern to him in the moment.
All you needed, all he wanted was to satiate your burning desire and arousal, to curb your instinctual need to fuck and be fucked, if only for a little bit.
Wanting to feel you deeper, Toji leaned forward to press your knees to your shoulders, allowing him to bury himself deep in your pussy, his tip kissing your cervix. So caught up in the ecstasy, a familiar yet bygone word escaped your lips.
“Papa!” you exclaimed, throwing your head back and gasping.
Papa. A term you had given up well over a decade ago, indicative of how far gone you were. How you had reverted to nothing but pure instinct, recognizing the man fucking you as what he once, and always would be, to you.
Toji almost came right on the spot. A strangled moan came from his throat, his arousal increasing tenfold.
“Say it again,” he demanded, voice deep and gruff.
There was no need to tell you twice. “Papa! Papa! Papa!” you chanted like a perverted spell, entirely unaware of what you were saying, much less the implications.
And Toji does something he swore he wouldn’t do – without halting his movements, he cupped your cheek and crashed his lips against yours. It was messy, all teeth and tongue and spit, but he could no longer keep himself from kissing his sweet, sweet daughter.
“Papa’s got you, baby,” Toji mutters against your lips, punctuating his words with hard thrusts. “Papa’s gonna make you feel so much better.”
The overstimulation of pheromones, messy kisses, and the hardest fuck you’ve ever had, had you hurtling closer and closer to what you so badly needed.
“Gonna come,” you whined, gripping his cheeks and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.
That had Toji’s heart racing even faster, scared he’d go into cardiac arrest at this point.
“Come for me, baby,” he encourages, kissing you back. “Come for Papa.”
Your next words yet again brutally took him by surprise.
“Knot me, daddy, please.”
Fuck. How is he supposed to deny that?
As your own orgasm crashed over you like a suffocating wave, screams and moans piercing Toji’s ears, he continued to fuck into your oversensitive pussy deeper and deeper until he began to feel the familiar swelling at the base of his cock. And soon enough, he’s damn near howling as he spills hot, sticky cum into your welcoming cunt, balls spasming as they empty themselves inside you. Neither of you were in the right mind to reckon with the potential consequences of that.
Toji’s thick knot had swelled to full size, stretching to a point that had you whimpering, hugging your dad close.
“Hurts Papa, it hurts,” you whined, tears gathering in your glossy eyes.
Toji quickly kisses the tears away, cradling you as best he could. “I know, sweetheart, I know. It’ll go down soon, okay? And we can get some rest, you and me.”
The alpha was far from prepared for how many more of his knots were in your future.
the intimacy of the first time you take Alhaitham’s headphones off of him…
reaching up to cup his face as you straddle his lap, gazing into pools of gentle aquamarine as he stares back, unsure of what you may do but there’s an unwavering sense of devotion in his gaze while his hands wrap around your wrists to follow your movements as your fingers work higher to curl over the silvery headphones that always reside there.
he doesn’t break his curious eye contact when you pull them down to rest around his neck - but he does make a soft noise in his throat that you catch when your fingertips graze over the shell of his ears, down to the lobe where your thumbs run across them, then smiling up at your beloved Alhaitham. a small crescent of a grin creeps over his face, crinkles at the corners of his eyes, a sight that you know is graciously reserved for you.
he leans in and presses his forehead to yours, an endearing release of breath that covers your face while his arms encircle your waist to pull you close. his starlight grey hair shimmers when you push the tendrils behind his ears to see them better, a satisfied grin on your lips when you spy the faint blush dusting his skin. he wonders your reasoning for taking his headphones off, not that he minds in any way. Alhaitham is always listening for you, the lilt of your voice or the chime of your laughter.
your voice drops to a whisper when you press your lips to his ear and say his name, a murmured “i love you, haitham.”, and a sensation crawls across his body while you remain happily perched in his lap. he smiles again, a low chuckle as your kisses tickle his ears and throat. he listens as your breath and his starts to pick up in combination, a low gasp here and a lighthearted giggle there, savoring the sounds of you and him in love.
