Synopsis: When Astraheim falls and it seems like all hope it lost, a familiar knight reunites with his princess. Together, you flee a kingdom reduced to ash, carrying old promises, impossible choices, and feelings neither of you can afford (or want) to name.
Tags/Warnings: fem!reader, mature themes(!), death, grief, s/a, smut, etc⌠each chapter will have individual warnings
A/N: finally back from the dead! been working on this since last autumn⌠iâm so excited to share with you all! this is also being crossposted on ao3 :)
I DO NOT CONSENT TO POSTING MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS OR FEEDING IT INTO AI
warnings: graphic violence, character death, death (decapitation, stabbing), fire/burning buildings, leg injury, political attack, blood, grief, trauma, flashbacks, etc
word count: 4.0k
series masterlist | prologue
The taste of ash filled your mouth. It coated your tongue, bitter and thick as if the air itself has turned solid. Heat pressed against your skin, making its way through the thin fabric of your nightgown. The dress was tattered and torn, the purple silk hidden underneath soot and dust. The heat wasnât the gentle warmth of morning; instead, it was biting at your flesh like it wanted to eat you.Â
You tried to inhale and the smoke clawed down your throat, forcing a cough that sent a sharp, blinding pain through your ribs.Â
Eventually, you're somewhere in the village: outside the palace perimeter but not quite at town square. You canât recall how you managed to escape, only flashes of brief memory stuck.Â
The advances. Fighting back. Blood gushing from his neck. Survive. Do what it takes to survive.Â
Now that you're away from the palace, the wind howled, nipping at your skin. It bit your cheeks, your hands, and legs through the ruined fabric of your nightgown. While the warmth was strong, the wind was worse. It devoured the heat as the air blew across your face, making your hair dance in the wind. You couldnât feel it thoughâyour eyes were too fixated on what was in front of you. On the cobblestone paths, your legs finally gave out. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was disbelief. Either way, your knees his the stone, barely protected with the thin fabric, and your dagger clanked against the ground.
The Kingdom of Astraheim had fallen. The palace was in flames. Orange bursts of fire crackled, emitting a heat that overtook the heartless cold of the night. The screams of your civilians had long died out, leaving you to wonder what had become of the rest of his men. Was it a suicide mission? Would they go terrorize another Kingdom? Or would they flee back to where they came from after learning their leader is dead?
How long until they find out he's dead?
You tried to standâpain in your thigh quickly put an end to your efforts. Glancing down at your leg, you saw the red seep through the already soiled fabric. When did that happen? You closed your eyes but the flashes rushed back. This time, it was how wide Father's eyes were as his head detached from his body, and then how Mother pleaded with him as he stabbed her in the gut.
The sound of a horse's hooves against the cobblestone broke your train of thought. Looking towards the direction of the noise, you saw it. A black palfrey stepped towards you. His mane was braided neatly and the light of the fire reflected in his eyes.
Clop. Clop. Clop.
On top of the horse was a knight. His shiny, silver armour matched the reflection in the horse's eyes. You couldn't make out a face through the helmet's visor. The knight wore a cape, the underside of it a deep purple. The purple of Astraheim. This couldn't be a knight of Astraheim, you reasoned with yourself, they're all dead. The only logical answer could be one of Marlon's men, disguised as an Astraheim knight to finish you off.Â
You scurried, leaning towards your dagger. It was just out of your grasp, but looking back at the knight, you pushed through the throbbing of your leg and managed to grab the blade.Â
"Royals have a certain voice," Father's voice rang through your ears. One of the things he wouldn't stop repeating. "You need to sound confident, even if you are not. A ruler who sounds panicked leads a panicked kingdom."
"Who are you?" despite feigning confidence as best you could, your voice still wavered. You pointed the sharp tip towards the horse, but more specifically, towards the knight. Mustering up your remaining courage, you willed your voice to be commanding and steady.Â
The horse stopped, the knight pulling on its reigns. Your eyes followed as the man dismounted and stepped towards you.
You shuffled back, still pointing the blade at him. Leaning back on your other arm, you tried to create as much distance as possible. "Who are you?"
"M'lady," the knight knelt down in front of you, bowing his head before extending his hand.
You didn't take it. You weren't a fool.Â
"Show yourself." You tilted your chin up, trying your best to use that royal voice.
You expected him not to listen. Why would he? The knight obliged anyway. His hands rose up, lifting off his helmet. The first thing you noticed was his eyes. Striking green compared to the rest of his pale face. His lashes surrounded them like a frame for a portrait. Your brain took in the rest of him, fine stubble and furrowed eyebrows, as your heart dropped with a feeling you couldn't quite name. Relief? No⌠betrayal?Â
It's been years. You haven't seen him since before your royal visit at Zarmitia. He disappeared after his ceremony and hasn't bothered visiting you until now? What kind of friend does that? Whyâ
"Zayne?" it fell from your lips before it had processed.
He fell to one knee and bowed his head before extending his hand back towards you, "Princess."
He's still a knight, you remembered, he's sworn to me now.
Your dagger lowered and you placed it into the holster on your thigh without a second thought.
"I've got to get you to safety." Zayne rushed as you placed your hand in his gauntlet. "Are you injured? Can you stand?"
"I'm fineâ" you quickly realized the opposite as pain shot down the side of your leg. Your knees buckled under your weight as your tried lifting yourself up. The knight took control in an instant, having ahold of your weight. Looking down at your left leg, you remembered the injury as you took in the soiled fabric again. Purple fabric stained with blood did not make a pretty colour. "Shit," you cursed under your breath, trying to put weight on the injured leg and realizing it was, once again, a bad idea.Â
"Don't do that."
You bit your tongue before you could snap back. You're not the boss of me.
He didn't say another word before scooping his arm under your knees, carrying you to his horse.
"Zayne," you fussed, "I can do it myselfâ"
"No," he interjected, "you're injured." You writhed as he mounted you onto his horse, not letting you do it on your own. His eyes were on your leg the entire time. The fingers of his gauntlet brushed against the edge of the stain, pulling back when you hissed. "You're injured and I'm your knight. I'm sworn to you, Princess."Â
Zayne put his helmet back on before taking the reigns, leading you and the horse to, what you assumed, was away from the palace. "Let me fulfill my duty."
There was no point in arguing with him, he's always been like this. His steed only took a handful of steps before you heard the whinny of another horse. That was a sound you could recognize anywhere. It was the noise of your beloved riding horse, "Caspian!"Â
The knight's head turned to yours in an instant. He knew Caspian too; that horse has been by your side for years.Â
"Zayne, we have to look for him." you pleaded, leaning down towards the knight.
He took a breath before responding, his eyes now gazing towards the direction of the stables. There wasn't any telling if it had been engulfed by the flames or not, and even trying to go there would be risky. "The stables are far," he started, hesitating before leading the horse away again. "There's no telling if the fire's reached there."Â
"Please," you begged.Â
He turned towards you for a moment.Â
He couldn't deny you then. He still can't deny you now.
"Fine," he begrudgingly decided, leading the horse towards the stables. "If it gets too dangerous, we are leaving."Â
It wasn't a very long way from where you were, only about a seven minute walk. But still, a lot can happen in seven minutes when your kingdom is in the midst of burning down. Your eyes travelled back to the palace, now that it was closer, you could see the flames properly. The pushed against the glass of the stained windows, casting a beautiful orange glow on the stories told on those panels. You imagined what the inside must've looked like, the carpet and banners engulfed in flames and turned to ash. The wooden beams must've been turned to soot.
Your mind wandered to the throne room. You wondered what the carpet looked like now, and how hot the thrones must me. The image of Marlon's body flashed in your mind, with his greasy hair and blood gushing out of his stab wound. The stab you inflicted onto him. Abruptly, the image of Father's decapitated head took place of Marlon's body. His eyes were lifeless and wide, rid of the gentle soul that once resided in them. Then, Mother's face flooded your mind's eye. You could hear her cries as clearly as you could see her body, with blood gushing out of her gut and staining the carpet below.Â
You shoved you fists into you eyes, rubbing as hard as you could, like it would reverse the damage that's already been done.Â
"Are you alright?" Zayne took notice of you rubbing your eyes.
You lied to him, "I'm fine."
He knew, but he didn't press further.Â
As you made your way towards the stables, the heat of the fire became more present. It drowned out the cold bite of the night, warming you up an uncomfortable amount. You looked towards Zayne, seeing one side of his reflecting the fire while the other side was blank except for the moonlight. Did he feel the heat too? Does the armour trap it all in? The sound of things falling in the distance filled your earsâprobably beams and pillars in the palace.
Caspian's squeal broke your train of thought. You head snapped up, gazing towards where the sound came from. "He sounds close!"
Another whinny confirmed your suspicions. The sound of his galloping was faint, but you could hear it getting louder. "Caspian!" you called once more.
Just through the smoke, you could see the familiar silhouette of Caspian standing on his hind legs. A streak of brown emerged through the smoke before the rest of him followed. His coat was covered in ash and soot; you couldn't tell which spots were part of his coat and what was dirt. The horse reached you in a panic, lowering his head towards your shoulder and huffing.
"You're okay," you reached up to stroke his muzzle, scratching his chin with the other hand. Releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you did a once over on your horse.Â
Now, he might've not been the strong, muscular palfrey that Zayne's steed was, but Caspian was your loyal riding companion. He's been with you through the bad and the good, sticking by your side whenever things weren't fine.
This time was no different.
Caspian nudged your shoulder againâhard enough to knock you off if it weren't for Zayne.
"He doesn't have a saddle." he observed out loud, retreating his hand once he was confident you were stable.
"I know," you positioned yourself to go from one horse from the other, "he'll be fine."
Zayne had to move fast to get himself to the other side of his horse, below you just in case you fell. "Princess!" his tone was stern, almost out of breath as he softly scolded you like a child.
You sucked in a breath as you lifted your weight from Zayne's horse to Caspian, the pain in your thigh flaring up again. "I'm fine!"Â
"I can manage." you insisted, now mounted on Caspian.Â
"You cannot."Â
You opened your mouth to retort again before you heard the sound of timber groaning somewhere overhead.Â
"We need to go." Zayne decided with an annoying amount of finality. He mounted his horse with ease, making you almost scoff with jealousy.
There was a crunch behind him. Both of your heads shot in that direction. You hand reached for the dagger, his reached for his sword.Â
Two men emerged from the smoke. Their armour was different. It wasn't the plate armour that Zayne wore, it was chain mail instead. Their capes were the same orange that Marlon wore.
Zayne recognized it too. He removed his sword from its sheath in one smooth motion.Â
The image of Marlon's body flashed in your mind before you willed it away.
"Stay behind me." Zayne spoke. His tone wasn't harsh, but firm and steady instead.Â
The two men mirrored Zayne, also unsheathing their swords. "The Princess!" one of them pointed as the other took a step forward. They kept coming forward.
Zayne's horse backed up. Your horse stomped his feet. You don't know when it happened, but you also pulled out your dagger, still adorned with dried blood.Â
"Where is the Captain?" the man on the right demanded, his eyes flicking from the blood on the knife to your face.
"I killed him."Â
The other man looked between you and the burning place. The echo of falling timber was getting closer. Sweat beaded on your hairline. Zayne's eyes went wide at your words, but he didn't look towards you. He kept his concentration on the men ahead.
"The Great Marlon?" one of them scoffed, almost rolling his eyes. "No."
"Yes," you lifted you chin. "Go to the throne room if you don't think I'm truthful. Though I think his body's been cremated by now."
Your stomach twisted with the cruelty of your words. What kind of a Princess am I?
A moment passed before they realized you weren't bluffing.Â
"The Captain's dead,"
"Our orders died with him."
"The mission failed!"
They shook their heads. One took a step forward while the other stepped back. "But the Princess!"
As if their thoughts lined up, they both turned and fled.Â
Your dagger went home into its holster and Zayne's sword did the same. The highest tower of the palace started crumbling, the stone giving away with a thunderous roar.Â
"Mercenaries," Zayne tsked, grabbing the reins of his horse. He looked around to ensure there wouldn't be any other surprises. "We need to go. Follow me, Princess."Â
Caspian trailed after Zayne without you needing to tell him.Â
As you travelled away from the palace, the pressing burn of the heat gave away to the harsh wind of the night. It was quickâone minute you were warm, swiping away the sweat on your forehead, and then next you were shivering in your nightgown from the cold. It was late spring. While the mornings were warm, the nights held onto the winter's harshness.
Eyes fixed on the horse below you, you didn't dare look back up at the castle. The castle that once stood tall and proud. The castle that housed you your entire life. The castle where you and Zayne would scurry around as kids.Â
You remembered the macaroons you'd swipe from the kitchens. You recalled the lavish pastries and dishes and meals. You realized, a quick moment later, that you'll never experience that again.
Your thoughts dove deeper. Your chambers with your favourite dresses. The balcony that overlooked the garden. The garden that hosted so many cherished memories. The throne room with your family portrait and Father's crown. The crown that was supposed to be yours in only one short year. You never got to wear it. Now, you'll never get to.Â
You don't know when, but eventually you reached the Kingdom's gates. Adorned with the purple banners of Astraheim, you could barely see your family crest on them. The fire hadn't reached the gates yet, but that didn't make Zayne stop.
You halted Caspian, turning the horse around so you could see the skyline of your home. What once was your favourite view, with the castle's mighty silhouette overlooking the village and town square, was destroyed and consumed by unrelenting flames.Â
"Wait," your voice came out soft, looking over your shoulder at Zayne.Â
Your knight was only a few paces ahead of you. His steed halted, and he turned to look at you. "No."
There it was again: that annoyingly final tone of his.Â
"We need to leave," his horse stepped closer, "it's for your safety."
"No," you turned back to the Kingdom. Various towers of the palace were in flames. The fire had spread from town square to the edges of the village. You didn't look at Zayne as you spoke again. "Everything I've ever known is burning to a crisp. The least you could do, after disappearing for all those years, is stay."
"But, Princessâ"
You cut him off before he could reason, even argue, with you. "Just until the fire goes out."
Three heartbeats later, his voice came. "Fine," he gave in, "only until the fire goes out."
It wasn't like he could deny you anyway, he's sworn to you.
Your eyes laid fixed on the scene in front of you, but more specifically, where the throne room resided in the palace. Where your parent's bodies laid. Where you killed Marlon. Where the crown, and your tiara, were.
You realized how quiet the air had gotten. The only sounds were the crackling of fire and the occasional rumble of stone and wood. The screams had long died out. You assumed all your villagers were goneâhow could they survive? They wouldn't have had time to flee. The ambush was so sudden, as quick as Marlon decapitating the King. You shook your head once more to try and rid the image of Father's head.Â
The ash drifted in the wind, landing atop your hair and onto the horses. It tickled your nose, forcing a sneeze out of you. Everything was sore. Your leg, especially. But your back, your arms, and your neck were no exception. You looked down at your hands, realizing how they were dirtied with ash and grime. You swept the hair out of your face, tucking strands behind your ears as you gazed towards Astraheim once more. The fire moved quick; the palace was half its original size and the fire spread form the village to the crops.Â
Five minutes later, only the bright embers of the fire remained. The flames were only a quarter of their original size.Â
"Let's go," Zayne's voice is soft this time, like he was wanting to avoid breaking the silence. "We have a long journey ahead of us."
Your next question didn't come immediately. It only came after a bit of riding, until you couldn't see the skyline of your kingdom behind you. "Where are we going?"Â
"You remember Lilith and Xander?" he asked, pulling on the reigns to slow his horse down to let you ride side by side.Â
"Of course," you caught up to him, "I was there mere moons ago."
"Their tavern." he glanced at you before returning his eyes to the meadow in front of him. There was no path to follow. Just the sound of a nearby creek and pure memory. "I pray they are still alive and well."
The only thing you could do was pray.Â
You stayed quiet. What would you have to say?Â
Questions chewed at Zayne's mind. He knew of Marlon's schemeâhe had been recruited for it. He only wished he could've gotten to Astraheim earlier to warn the King and Queen. He left as early as things allowed and rode as fast as he could, yet clearly it wasn't good enough. The knight glanced towards you, taking in your tired and dishevelled state. Flat hair, ash covered hands, a soiled, torn nightgown. It was a miracle he reached you when he did.
His mouth went bitter at the thought of the mercenaries getting to you before him.Â
What happened to Marlon? Did you really kill him or was that just a good bluff? If it wasn't Marlon's blood on the dagger, then whose was it? Zayne peered towards you again.Â
Your head was low as your counted the different types of wildflowers in the field. The meadow was beautiful. You would've stepped down to pick a bouquet if the circumstances were different. You glanced towards Zayne, but his eyes were back on the road ahead. Your eyes trailed down his armour, noticing the different scratches that hadn't been rid from polishing. You noticed the sword on his hip. Being close enough to him to get a proper look, you realized it was the one you gifted him on his birthday.
He still used the same sword five years later?Â
Of course he still used the same sword. It was his most prized possessionânot only because it was you that gifted it to him, but also because it was made from Xander's masterful handiwork. During his time in the East, he used it very solemnly, keeping it hidden in his chambers and only taking it out when venturing back to the West, to Lilith and Xander's tavern.Â
Zayne's looked up towards the sky, trying to see the position of the moon. You had been riding for what seemed like hours now. If he had to guess, you were about halfway to the tavern. Halfway to safety. Unfortunately, the sky was overcast and he couldn't pinpoint the location of the moon. He assumed it was around the witching hour.
"Your Majesty," he started, but cut himself off when he glanced towards you.Â
You had fallen asleep on Caspian, with your hands loosely dangling around his neck.
He steered his horse closer to yours, keeping a keen eye, ensuring your protection. In one swift motion, he unclasped his cape from his armour and covered you with it. Shielding you from the night and preserving your warmth was most important to him.
A painstakingly slow two hours later, you arrived at the tavern. Your soft snores were drowned out by the laughter that drifted from the building. The light flooded though the windows, basking the area around the tavern in a warm glow. He guided the horses into the stables attached to the side of the building, dismounting his horse and removing the saddle. There were a handful of other horses in the stalls, but they were sleeping on the hay below.Â
You woke from your slumber, leaning up and rubbing at your eyes. "How long was I asleep for?"
"A few hours," Zayne's voice was gentle once more, careful not to rouse the other horses. He secured his steed to a nearby post before doing the same for Caspian."You needed it."
His cape was draped on you, you noticed, weighted and thick against your body. You tried to dismount from Caspian, yet your leg wouldn't allow you to smoothly. You didn't argue when he came to assist you. He carried you out of the small stables as your head leaned against his shoulder. He made his way towards the front door.
Warm light, jovial laughter, and carefree chatter could be seen and heard from the door. Zayne knocked on the door with his boots, not being able to with his hands.
After a moment when it didn't open, he did it again. This time, with more force and urgency.Â
The third time, he kicked the door open with one powerful thrust.Â
The wood squeaked on its hinges. The loud boom! caught the attention of everyone. Their heads turned towards the knight, taking in the image of the girl in his arms. Laughter died out quickly as conversations also came to an abrupt end.
Zayne's helmet was still on. He looked past the tavern's patrons, his eyes finding Lilith first. She was serving drinksâher eyebrows creased as confusion dawned on her face. Then, Zayne saw Xander behind the bar, cleaning out a glass with a grey rag.
Realization dawned on Xander's face the next second.
"Princessâ?!"Â
series masterlist | prologue | chapter one | chapter two (coming soon!)
sorry about the delay lovelies! hope you all enjoy :) likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
wanna be on the taglist? lmk!
taglist (crossed out means i was unable to tag): @kyoskyo @songpyeonpyeon @patchesofwork @weebausarus @zeptorg @misshunterwantszayne @katasstrophie
warnings: mentions of death, grief, fluff
word count: 6.2k
âZayne!â the Princess gasped and giggled at the sight of the macarons in the little boyâs hand. He had two; a pink and blue one he swiped from the royal kitchens.Â
âShh,â he handed her the pink one, watching with green eyes as she took a bite and hummed, delighted. âDonât tell anyone!â
The two kids hid in a corner of one of the many palace corridors. For as long as they could remember, theyâve always had each other. Even at only five and six years old, they were practically glued at the hip. He was the son of a knight. The Captain of the Royal Guard, to be specific. She was the Princess, dearly beloved by her people and others abroad.Â
âWe should get another one.â she suggested after finishing the desert, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Sure enough, minutes later, they were at Lilithâs feet. They looked up at her with their gleaming, hopeful faces, begging for another sweet treat.Â
The girl tugged at Lilithâs apron, âPlease, Lilith? Just another one!âÂ
Zayne stood to the side, knowing that Lilith wouldnât deny the precious Princess. But still, he eagerly nodded along.Â
Lilith sighed, shaking her head with a fond smile toying at her lips. She tried to conceal it, but it was tough to hide with the two kids using their charm against her. âFine,â she gave in, handing them another macron each.
A pause, and then she handed Zayne another one. âOnly if you promise to give that one to Xander.âÂ
Zayneâever the serious one, even at five years oldânodded solemnly. âI promise.â Then the kids were off out the kitchens. The Princessâ giggles filled the air as the knightâs son trailed behind her.Â
Soon, they were outside the blacksmithâs forge. The Princess knocked on the doorâonce, twice, thrice. On the third knock, it opened. Xander stood there, some tool in hand, as he looked down at the little ones of the palace.Â
âFor you,â Zayne held up one of the macarons. âFrom Lilith.â
The blacksmith took it with a smile, popping it into his mouth. He invited the kids inside, welcoming them into his place of work. This was a regular occurrence for Zayne. Oftentimes, his father would be out on missions, so heâd linger around Xander. At first, he was sceptical about keeping a child so young around him, but Zayne proved himself to not be reckless. For the Princess, however, this was a rare treat. She hardly had the chance to be around the blacksmith and see his work.
âIâm working on a new sword for your father,â Xander explained, walking them over to the table where he was engraving the hilt.Â
Zayne peered at the half-finished sword on the table. âHow heavy is it?â
âI bet I could pick it up.â the Princess commented, rising onto her tippy toes to see it. Her little fingers grasped the grip, and all the strength she could muster, she willed it to move.
It barely moved an inch.
âHere,â Zayne stepped closer, his hands beside hers now. Heâd seen his father do this a thousand times. âLike this.â
Together, with all the strength two children could muster, they lifted the blade an inchâmaybe twoâoff the table.
The Princess beamed. âWe did it!â
Zayne smiled, cheeks pink with pride he didnât understand yet.Â
Xander shook his head, a smile spreading on his face. âYou two will run this kingdom one day.â
âWe already do,â the Princess playfully scoffed, flipping her hair and crossing her arms.
In a way, it was true. Where one went, the other followed. Dessert thieves. Secret conspirators. They grew, as children do. The Princess would walk everywhere she pleased, and Zayne would follow, half a step behind her. As seasons passed and trees lost and regained their leaves, they grew taller, smarter, and impossibly closer.
Late spring was the Princessâ favourite time. The flowers were in full bloom in the royal garden, the sound of birds singing filled the air. Usually, sheâd be up in the branches, worrying Zayne with the fear of her falling. Today though, was differentâshe hadnât climbed up a single tree and instead walked along the garden path with her hands folded behind her.
âNo climbing trees today, Princess?â Zayne inquired, hiding his smile as she walked on her tippy toes, pretending to be taller than him.
They were eight and nine now, and the Princess was the same height as Zayne for the first time. She hoped to grow taller and surpass him, just so she could tease him for being shorter than her.
She sighed in response to his question, shaking her head. âMother said I canât get my dress dirty.â
âWhy not?â
âKing Oscar is coming and heâs bringing his son, Prince Caleb.â
Zayne nodded, unsure of what to make of the news.
âI havenât met a Prince before.â she admitted, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
Just as Zayne was about to say something, the Queen interrupted.Â
âThere you are!â she walked over, extending her arm for the Princess to take. âKing Oscar has just entered the gates. Theyâll be here any minute!â
The Princess held onto her motherâs hand, but glanced at Zayne before turning to her mother. âCan Zayne come too?â
The Queen agreed, and the three of them, along with King Gentry, waited by the palace entrance. Not soon after, a carriage came into sight, and stopped in front of them. King Oscar emerged, along with Prince Caleb.
Prince Caleb was a carbon copy of his father, chocolate brown hair and sunset-purple eyes. Even though the boy was only eight-years-old, it was clear he was someone who was used to attention. It was obvious just from the way he carried himself.
As King Gentry met with the Princessâ parents, the Queen nudged the Princess. Remember your manners.Â
She curtsied, bowing her head.
âYou must be the Princess of Astraheim,â Prince Caleb smiled once she rose. He took her hand and placed a kiss on it.
She nodded shyly. âYou must be Prince Caleb.â
Zayne didnât know what he was feeling, but he knew one thing for certain: he did not like Prince Caleb.
âI have a gift for you!â Caleb exclaimed suddenly, digging in his satchel and pulling out a s lil mall pouch. He handed it to her. âFather said that Princes must always give gifts to Princesses. I hope you like it.â
She opened up the pouch, revealing a necklace. Simple, nothing too fancyâa gold chain with a small, diamond pendant. âItâs very pretty,â she traced the diamond with her finger. âThank you.â
Caleb smiled, a small, shy one. Zayne cleared his throat. He did not like this feeling. The Princess turned to him, sensing his discomfort.Â
âThis is Zayne.â she said brightly. âHeâs my best friend!â
Zayne awkwardly extended his hand towards Caleb. The Prince took it and shook his hand. The knightâs son accidentally squeezed the Princeâs hand harder than necessary.Â
Zayne did not like Caleb.Â
âHow about you show Prince Caleb around the palace?â King Gentry suggested to the Princess and Zayne. Listening to the Kingâs suggestion, Zayne and the Princess started walking, with little Caleb trailing behind them.
Years passed, like they always do. The Princess grew into her royal training, and Zayne delved into the journey to knighthood. Where they once spent every waking moment together, now they lived in hurried whispers and chaste goodbyes. Zayne spotted her walking along one of the corridors, heading to her chambers after her Princess Etiquette Class.
Without thinking, he pulled her aside into a corner, his hand on her arm as he leaned in close to whisper. âPrincess,â he started, a small smile on his face. When was the last time they snuck around together? Neither of them could remember. âCome to the gardens with me tonight?â
The Princess took note of how he was taller than her now, almost a full head. She realized sheâd never surpass him in height. She was tired, of course, but sheâd sacrifice any amount of sleep to be around him like before.
The Princess nodded, much to Zayneâs relief.
âIâll see you by that old tree?â
She knew exactly which one he meant. When she arrived, she saw Zayne sitting on the bench, two pastries in hand. He handed one to her when she approached. A freshly baked, warm, puff pastry.Â
His hand brushed hers as he passed it. Neither of them mentioned it.Â
âHowâd youâ?â
âLilith.â
The Princess shook her head fondly, sitting down next to him. âI shouldâve known.âÂ
They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, but was really only twenty minutes. The Princess realized she should be heading back before anybody discovers sheâs missing from her chambers.Â
âThank you for the pastry,â she turned to Zayne, âI really should get going.â
He understood duty better than anyone. Yet still, a subtle frown tugged at his lips.Â
Of course she noticed; she notices every detail. She just wishes there was something she could do about it.
âI miss being around you.â Zayne admitted softly, looking down. For a twelve-year-old boy, especially one training for knighthood, vulnerability was not common.Â
âI do too.â She reassured, matching his soft tone. âMeet again on Thursday?âÂ
He nodded, watching as she stood from the bench. âIâll see you then.â
Secret garden meetings turned into a regular occurrence, and thatâs how they coped. Sometimes, only one of them showed, other times, both. But even routines built with the utmost care can break.Â
One evening, Zayne didnât come.Â
The Princess waited at that bench for hours. The sunset turned to nightâthe birds stopped chirping and the crickets started singing. She sat there, fiddling with the fabric of her skirt. Night air nipped at her skin, causing goosebumps to rise on her uncovered arms.Â
Heâs just late, she convinced herself. Told herself heâd come running down that path like he always did.Â
He didnât.Â
It happened again the next night. And then the night after that. Four days and he hadnât shown up; she hadnât even seen his face around the palace. She was getting worried.Â
The first time he didnât show up, she chalked it up to him being tired from training. The second time, she concluded he mustâve forgotten. The third⌠maybe he was busy with chores? The fourth time, she lost hope and dragged herself back to her chambers with her head hanging low. She stopped going down to the gardens and instead started waiting on her balcony.
âLilith,â the Princess stopped by the royal kitchen, âhave you seen Zayne?âÂ
Lilith knew what had happened, of course. But, she didnât have the time to sit down and explain it to the worried Princess.Â
The maid shook her head, a sorry smile on her face. âAsk Xander, maybe he knows.â
One, two, three knocks on Xanderâs door and he opened it up.Â
She got right to the point before the blacksmith could get a word out. âWhereâs Zayne?âÂ
His lips turned into a line as he invited her inside. âPrincessâŚâ he hesitated, closing the door. âYou might want to sit down for this.â
âSit down?â She was getting irritated, yet tried her best to hide it. âWhy-?â
âCaptain Jace,â Xander started, unsure of how to keep going. There was no easy way of saying this. âWas gravely injured in battle. Zayne hasnât left his side.â
She was stunned. âIs heâŚ?â
The blacksmith shook his head. âTheyâre saying he wonât have long.â
She doesnât remember the next few hours; it was all blurred together. With her skirt gathered in her fists, she was rushing down the hall to the infirmary. The nurses denied her entrance, saying only family was permitted.
Only family.Â
She stood there, breath uneven, staring at the closed doors as if sheer willpower could force them open. They stayed shut. Voices murmured on the other sideâhealers speaking in tense whispers, footsteps moving quickly, the muted sound of someone crying.
None of it belonged to her. Slowly, she stepped back. The corridor felt colder than the gardens at night. Her hands trembled as she smoothed the front of her dress, trying to pretend she still had control over something, anything. She didnât sleep that night.
The next morning, Lilith knocked on her door. âHe passed during the night.â She broke the news, dressed in black. Her voice was tired. âThe funeral is in a few hours. You should get ready, Princess.â
It could be felt in the air. Captain Jace had been a loyal servant for decadesâlong before either of the kids were born. Astraheim felt still; she could feel it even though she hadn't stepped outside yet. The sunlight didnât feel warm, and the corridors were empty instead of being filled with laughter.Â
âDo you have any macarons, Lilith?â The Princess suddenly spoke, soft and quiet.
âMacarons? I donât understandâŚâ
âJust one would be enough.â
Lilith didnât question further. âIâll see what I can do.â and then she left the Princessâ chambers, closing the door behind her.Â
The day moved on without her permission. She got ready, adorned in a simple black gown, hair cascading down her shoulders. The funeral arrived quicker than anticipatedâit was closed casket.Â
She caught sight of Zayne. She didnât expect him to approach her, or to even look at her, but she still allowed herself to hope. Some might say it was foolish, but she missed her best friend.Â
It seemed like he grew older in the four days they spent apart. His hair wasnât as neat, the skin around his eyes was darker. The corners of his lips turned down.Â
She hadnât realized she was staring, and she didnât remember when he turned to her. They locked eyes from across the room.Â
He stared like she was his only anchor.Â
Of course, they didnât get a chance to interact at the funeral. Shortly after the ceremony, Zayne disappeared to his chambers.Â
The Princess, after getting that macaron from Lilith, followed after him.Â
She knocked, twice, before he opened the door.Â
âZayne-â
She didnât have time to finish her sentence before he engulfed her in a hug, his silent sobs causing his shoulders to tremble.Â
Her arms wrapped around him without a second thought, holding him.Â
He pulled away, avoiding eye contact. âIâm sorry,â he let out, attempting to control his breathing, and in turn, his crying. âI didnât want you to see me like this.â
âYou donât have to apologize,â her hands slid down his arms, her voice gentle and warm. âNot to me, anyway. I brought you something,â she revealed the treat. Macarons were Zayneâs favourite. âI thought⌠I donât know. I thought maybe it would help. Even a little.â
He took the macaron from her fingers, his hand brushing against hers once more.Â
âIt does,â he whispered. âThank you.âÂ
A silence settled over them. Not awkward, just⌠heavy.Â
A knock echoed from down the hallway, followed by the stern voice of one of the knights, âZayne. The King wishes to see you.â
Zayne stiffened. She caught it. How could she miss it?
Duty. Responsibility. All of it hitting him at once.
He looked at her one last time. She wanted to hug him again, to pull him back into the quiet safety of this room, but she didnât.
Instead, she whispered: âIâll see you later?â
He hesitated, then nodded.
But they both felt the shiftâsubtle but sharp. Something was changing. And neither of them knew how to stop it.
That night, she went back to the garden once more.Â
Zayne didnât come that night.Â
The next morning, she couldnât find him anywhere. She went to the King, wondering what was so important that he had to discuss with Zayne.
âI was just offering my condolences and support.â he brushed her off, but she knew he was bluffing. She didnât press further, knowing it would be futile. Thereâs no point in arguing when your fatherâs the King.Â
Zayne didnât show up the next night either.Â
The Princess waited, just like before. Sheâd stay out as long as she could before she couldnât handle the cold anymore. Sheâd even bring two pastries, just in case heâd forgotten to eat, begging Lilith for them.
But now, the winter months were approaching, and she couldnât handle the cold nights like she could in the earlier seasons. Instead of going out the garden every night, she started spending an hour or two outside on her balcony before bed. This way, she could still wait for him and have a view of the gardens.Â
He just needs time, sheâd rationalize, grief changes people.Â
Zayne has changed; thereâs no doubt about it.Â
Sheâd catch glimpses of him around the palace. Zayne hanging out with senior knights. Zayne carrying a bundle of spears. Zayne polishing armour with an old rag.Â
Training, she assumed, consumed him. He had that air of quiet, desperate intensity to him. He spent his mornings in the barracks, afternoons in the sparring yard, and evenings assisting knights twice his size. She understood duty better than anyone. Her etiquette tutor had doubled down on her ever since the funeral.Â
âA great princess never disappoints her people.â her tutor said, over and over, until it was embedded in her bones. Her public appearances had doubled, and she had started traveling abroad. People would come from far and wide to see the Princess of Astraheimâshe was truly beloved by the people. But understanding still hurt.Â
Sometimes heâd acknowledge her. Small glances. A quick nod. The ghost of a smile she used to know. They barely saw each other apart from quick, polite greetings passed in the hallways.
At feasts, sheâd see him stationed beside her father, posture straight and expression unreadable. Even though he was only a year older, it seemed like more. Sometimes sheâd swear sheâd catch him staring, but as soon as their eyes would meet his gaze would go elsewhere.Â
In the softest part of her heart, she wondered if this is what growing up meant. Does growing up always mean growing apart? Would they ever return to how they used to be? A year and a half passed before they spokeâtruly spokeâ again.
The Princess spotted him at the Midsummer Festival out in the village, standing rigid beside some senior knights. They were old friends of his late father. Zayne looked older now. Sharper. His training had chiseled away the softness of boyhood, at the softness she once adored. It carved away at him and left behind angles she didnât recognize and shadows beneath his eyes she wished to vanish.Â
He was a knight, just without the title. She wondered if he still laughed the same.
As the festival was nearing its end and the villagers started drifting away, the music quieted and the Princess escaped to an alleyway. She was relieved to be alone, only accompanied by a stray cat purring at her feet. Alone at lastâuntil she wasnât. Zayne caught a glance of her petting the cat, and decided to go up to her.Â
She noticed him instantly.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The air went still, thick with tension.
âZayneââ
âPrincessââ
She giggled. He let the corners of his lips turn upward, just slightly.
ââŚPrincess.â His voice was deeper now, still gentle, but no longer the boyish tone
she remembered. Zayne bowed briefly, too formal for someone who used to steal pastries for
her.
She hated the bow. Hated the formality.
âYou donât have to call me that when itâs just us, you know.â she said quietly.Â
He hesitatedâand that hesitation cracked something inside her. âI wasnât sure if I
could,â he admitted.
She blinked. âWhy wouldnât you?â
Zayne exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that made him look
ten-years-old again. âYouâre busy. And Iâve had training. And after my fatherâŚâ he trailed
off, swallowing the words he couldnât say. âI didnât really know how to be around you
anymore.â
Her chest tightened. She broke eye contact, looking down at where her fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her dress where the bodice connected with the skirt. âYou couldâve just come to the garden.â
âI did, twice. You werenât there.â he murmured softly, taking a breath before
continuing. âI figured maybe youâd moved on.â Zayne added, now looking at the cobblestone
beneath them instead of at her.Â
Wait⌠twice? What is he talking about?Â
She shook her head, looking up at him once more. When did he get so tall?Â
âTwice? When?â her head cocked to the side as they made eye contact once more. âI went out every night, but you stopped showing upâŚâ
âThe first time, Xander stopped me.â he explained, taking a breath that raised his shoulders. âHe said it was too late and youâd be asleep already. The second time, I bumped into the King on the way to the garden. When I told him where I was going, he forbade me and ordered me back to my chambers.â
She felt a flush of frustration. âForbade you?â
He nodded. âHe⌠he didnât tell you?â
Zayne could see the way her jaw clenched as she looked down, back at the cat rubbing itself against her feet. The sound of her teeth grinding against one another answered his question.
The junior knight took another breath, eyes fixated on the orange fur of the cat. âYouâll be Queen one day. And Iâm⌠Iâm just trying to be a knight worthy of serving you.â
A minute passed before the Princess responded, leaving Zayne worrying he said the wrong thing. When she spoke next, her words were quiet and carefully chosen. âYou were never just anything to me.â
His head lifted. Their eyes metâreally metâfor the first time in forever. The ache in
his expression nearly knocked the breath out of her.
âZayne,â she stepped closer. The cat by her feet meowed in protest. âIâve missed you.â her voice was so quiet the faintest of wind couldâve blown it away. The words hung between them like a fragile ribbon.
âIâve missed you too.â he sighed, like a great weight was lifted when the confession left him. Then, his jaw clenched. âIf I let myself be around you the way I want to be⌠I donât think Iâll be able to stop.â
She didnât know what that meant yet; not fully, at least. She swallowed, offering the smallest of smiles. âThen⌠donât stop.â
For a beat, nothing happened. Thenâvery slowlyâZayne stepped closer. Only half a step, enough to make her aware of the scent of leather and metal that clung to him. It was different from the lavender and warm pastries she associated with him.
âIâll walk you back to your chambers,â he decided
This time, the formality didnât feel like distance. And for the first time in a year and a half, they left together. Slowly, their garden meetings came back. It wasnât as regular as before, but they managed. Every so often, heâd swipe pastries from Lilith again, sharing them with the Princess on that old garden bench.Â
One day while her tutor was teaching about⌠posture? Or maybe composure? The Princess wasnât listeningâshe sat at her desk, chin on her palm, mindlessly drawing on the corner of her parchment.Â
Lady Alice, the tutor, noticed she was drawing rather than taking notes.Â
âPrincess,â she snapped her fingers in front of the girlâs face. That got her attention, and quick. Before the Princess could stop it, Lady Alice snatched the paper. Instead of seeing her notes, she saw doodles of hearts in the corner. âWhatâs this?â
âItâs nothingâ!â the Princess felt her face flush with embarrassment.Â
Maybe she shouldâve skipped class today.Â
âUh huh,â Lady Alice, shooting the Princess a knowing look. The friendship between her and Zayne was no secret to the people who lived in the palace. âI hope youâre not hoping for this to progress anywhere. Youâll end up marrying for duty, not love.â
The Princess realized, at that moment, how much Zayne meant to her. She wasnât getting married any time soonâwhy couldnât she pursue him?
For Zayneâs sixteenth birthday, she requested Xander to forge him a sword. Complete with carvings on the hilt and a royal red sheath, it was truly a piece of artwork. She waited in the garden like numerous times before, the early September air still warm even though the sun had dipped below the horizon.
She saw Zayne approaching, and she quickly stood from the bench to greet him. Zayne had two cupcakes this time, both decorated with pale blue icing.Â
âHappy Birthday,â she said, the both of them biting into the cupcakes.Â
âFatherâs been talking about knighting you soon,â the Princess told Zayne, walking towards the bench. She had wrapped the sword in a dark cloth beforehand. Picking up the sword, she stepped back towards Zayne, holding it out to him. âBut donât tell him I told you.â
The boyâs eyebrows furrowed, confused by whateverâs in her hands.Â
âOpen it!â she encouraged, stepping closer. âItâs your birthday gift.â
Tentatively, he reached for the sword, unwrapping the cloth from around it. The way his eyes lit up when he realized what it was made her stomach flutter.
âPrincess⌠this,â he swallowed, his fingers running over the intricate engravings on the hilt. It was perfectly balanced, sharp as glass, and a show of true craftsmanship. He was starstruck, to say the least. âThis is exquisite.â
She gave him a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist. Instantly, his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, his nose pressed against her hair while his other hand held the sword.Â
I love you. âI love it.â he breathed out, inhaling the flowery scent of her hair. âThank you.â
A week later, there was a royal gala. The Princess couldnât care less for the reason for it, all she cared about was how she could feel Zayneâs eyes on her all night. He lingered by the walls, observing and people watching, not making any movies.
Truly a knight, only without the title.Â
âZayne,â she went up to him when she saw him at the dessert table. âHonour me with a dance?â
He turned to her, a grin playing on his lips. One of those charming boyish ones, reminding her of the boy whoâd sneak around the halls with her. âArenât I supposed to ask you that?âÂ
She shrugged, âI donât know, I donât care. Come dance.â She took one of his hands in both of hers, gently pulling him towards the center of the room. âPlease.â
How could he deny her when she looked at him like that? Big, pleading eyes that sparked with the light of the chandelier. She wore a pink ballgown, complete with delicate jewellery and the tiara refracting and reflecting light.Â
âI donât know how to danceâŚâ he admitted sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.Â
âIâll teach you,â she decided, tugging on his arm again. âItâs not hard. Letâs go to the garden.â
Once in the sanctuary of the garden, she began her lesson with him. âOkay, hold my hand,â she extended her left hand.Â
He took it, taking a step closer to her.Â
âGood,â she stepped closer as well. âNow, place your other hand on the bottom of my shoulder blade.â
Zayne placed his hand on her waist, stepping closer so they were almost chest-to-chest. He held her carefully, like she was made of fragile porcelain.Â
That works too.Â
She placed her free hand on his shoulder. âOkay, now step your left foot backâwait, your right footâokay good! And turn your body like this.â
âPerfect! Now step your feet togetherâyes, youâve got itâand step your other foot out and turn your body the other way.â
They managed to fall into a clunky box step, both of them looking down at their feet, trying to coordinate their steps to the faint music from the ballroom. Soon enough, they were flowing with ease, timed with the tempo of the slow music being played by the orchestra.
Zayne let go of her waist, twirling her around before pulling her back to him, his hand returning to its spot on her waist.
Her laughter filled the air. âWait, I wasnât expecting that!â Their eyes met and the Princessâ giggles slowly dispersed, a giddy smiled still adorning her face. âYouâre a fast learner.â
He leaned in, cheeky, whispering, âI had a good teacher.â
The yellow glow from the lanterns surrounding them casted a halo; it caused Zayne to look older and younger all at once. And the Princess? Well, anybody could tell she was royalty just by glancing at her.
Zayneâs heart fluttered against his ribcage, like a bird in a cage.Â
They settled into a new rhythm, still matching the orchestraâs symphony.Â
âI have something to tell you,â she broke the comfortable silence.
He blinked. âFunnyâI have something to tell you too.â
Slowly, their steps came to a halt. They stood there, in front of their old bench, surrounded by the various flowers and trees of the royal garden.
âYou go first.â the Princess looked up at him.Â
âIâm getting knighted,â he exhaled, looking down and breaking eye contact. He looked up before he continued speaking. âYour fatherâthe King, told me yesterday. He plans to do it at the Winter Solstice.â
Winter SolsticeâŚÂ oh.
Yet still, she was thrilled for him. âZayne, thatâs amazing!â
He didnât seem excited. Not even happy about it.Â
âWhy do you look like someone told you terrible news?â
âIâm not ready,â he whispered like it was blasphemy. âI donât feel like I deserve it. And because-â he stopped himself, jaw clenching and teeth grinding. âBecause everything is changing.â
She swallowed. Hard. That lump in her throat didnât seem to go down. âI have something to tell you too.â
He looked up, eyes filled with worry. âWhat?â
âIâm⌠leaving.â the word was heavy. Still, she tried to make it sound casual, gracefulâprincess-like.
She was failing horribly. Taking in another breath, she continued. âLady Alice and I are going to Zarmitia. A diplomatic trip. Iâll be gone until March.â
âYouâre visiting Prince Caleb?â
She nodded, not trusting her voice to not break.Â
âWhen do you leave?â
âDay after tomorrowâŚâ
His body went sharp, his fingers tugging at the fabric at her waist. He pulled her closer, until they were chest-to-chest. Her hand let go of his, moving to cup his jaw like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hand joined the other at her waist, holding her to him.
Together for just a little bit more.Â
âI⌠I know itâs far,â she murmured, âand long. But Iâll write to you.â
âYou say that like letters could replace you.â a slight pout graced his lips as his eyes looked between hers.Â
The words came out before he could stop them. Her breath stilled. Their eyes met, their breaths lingering in the air. He uttered her name like a sacred prayer and the air left her lungs.Â
âI donât know how to act around you anymore,â he admitted quietly, his green eyes flickering between hers. âI donât know what Iâm allowed to feel. Or want.âÂ
The Princess couldnât hear anything over the sound of her heart in her ears. âWhat do you want?âÂ
He hesitated. Maybe for longer than he should have.
Then, a singular word, âYou.âÂ
They didnât thinkâthey just moved.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. Testing the waters, it was nervous yet desperate. It was a question. She answered by committing. The kiss was soft and trembling, filled with every wish and every almost. His hand slid to her jaw; hers fisted at the fabric of his tunic. He pulled away, his thumb brushing her cheek.Â
âPrincess, IâŚâ his voice left him, replaced by a ball in his throat. Was it a mistake? Gods, he hoped not.Â
âDo it again.â
He didnât need to be told twice.Â
It was everything. Everything they had been too young and too scared to say. Shy at first, both being too tentative, they slowly figured it out together. They didn't know how long they stood like that, kissing as if the world had shrunk and it was only them remaining.Â
Untilâ
âPrincess?â Lilithâs voice called faintly. Neither of them heard.
Then again, but sharper. âPrincessâoh!â
They broke apart so violently Zayne tripped on the gravel. They held their hands behind their backs, embarrassed like school children caught doing something wrong.Â
Her face burned. Thank the Gods it was dark.
Another voice followed, âWhere did these damn kids goâ? Oh.â Xander stood behind Lilith, eyes wide before he understood.Â
The Princess wanted to wipe that grin off his face.Â
âIâum,â Zayne panicked, praying no one could see the way his cheeks and ears were dusted crimson.
âItâs not what it looks like!â
Xander and Lilith gave each other knowing looks, folding their arms over their chest.Â
âS-SorryâI should go,â Zayne stumbled over his words; a rare sight for everyone.
âZayne, waitââ
He took her hand, looking up at her as he placed a chaste kiss on it. âForgive me, Princess.â
He bowedâfar too formal for something that just happenedâand turned to walk towards Xander. He looked back, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.
Her fingers trembled by her lips where his warmth still lingered, watching as he walked away from her. She willed him to come backâjust another kiss, pleaseâbut he didnât.
Zayne and Xander made their way inside the palace.
Lilithâs eyes softened as she walked up to the Princess, âItâs late, Your Highness. We should get inside.â
âYes,â she cleared her throat and nodded, hands curled into fists and now at her side. âInside. Of course.â
She didnât see Zayne the next day.Â
Once more, time moved against her will, and much too quickly for her liking. Before she knew it, she was bidding her parents and the villagers of Astraheim goodbye, getting onto the carriage that would take her to Zarmitia.Â
She didnât get to give Zayne a proper goodbye.
âPrincess!â Prince Calebâs voice filled her ears upon her arrival. He had been ecstatic for this visit. They hadnât seen each other in at least two years. He welcomed her with a kiss to the hand, followed by a warm hug.Â
âItâs nice to see you, Prince Caleb.â She curtsied, bowing her head in politeness.Â
Over the next few months, he showed her around his kingdom. This was the Princessâ first official visit to Zarmitia. Caleb took her horseback riding to the woods, went out and about to greet the villagers, and even went to local festivities.Â
While she was grateful, she would rather spend time with Zayne.
On the Winter Solstice, he was all she could think about. Zarmitia had its own ceremonies and traditions for Winter Solstice, but she was zoned out most of the time, her mind wandering back to Zayne getting knighted.
I wonder what Zayne had for breakfast. Does he have the sword I gave him with him? I should get him a souvenir from Zarmitia.Â
Her mind was Sir Zayne this, Sir Zayne that. She tried her best to conceal itâand it seemed to work! Caleb was too excited to notice her inner turmoil, and Lady Alice was busy with other dutiful things.Â
âWhen will you be back?â Caleb asked her before she went back on her carriage the next spring.Â
âIâm not sure,â she told him honestlyâthe only thing on her mind was going back home. Back to Zayne. âWrite me letters?â
Prince Caleb nodded, letting her climb into the carriage. He bowed, a bright smile on his face. âSafe travels, Princess.â
Upon her arrival back to Astraheim, her people were happy to have their Princess back. They held a celebration, filled with music and laughter and dancing. She attended, of course, but kept her eye out for the knight with dark hair and green eyes. She didnât catch sight of him. Not even a glance.Â
When she returned to her chambers after a long day, it was the same way she left it. Everything was in its place, aside from one thing. There was something on top of her bedside table. She walked over, seeing something carefully wrapped in cloth, secure with a bow of twine. Beside it, sat a letter. The Princess decided to unwrap the object first.
Undoing the bow and pulling back the cloth, it revealed a stunning dagger. Perfectly balanced and perfectly carved. It was obvious it was Xanderâs work. It was a gorgeous piece of art; the hilt was white with gold engravings, matching the cross guard. Upon further examination, she discovered the pommel had a flower carved into it. It was a peonyâthe flower of Astraheim.Â
She set the dagger down. Careful and cautious. She turned her attention to the parchment. Sheâd recognize that handwriting everywhere.Â
it starts with a wince. a small oneâyou try to hide it, curling tighter under the blanket on the couch, shifting like maybe itâll help. zayneâs across the room, rifling through something in the kitchen, but he notices. of course he does. he always does. his eyes flick to you immediately, that furrow in your brow, the way your hand curls over your lower stomach. and he doesnât say anything. just murmurs a soft, âiâll be right back,â and disappears down the hallway.
you think heâs grabbing a heating pad or painkillers. but then you hear the faucet running. the bathroom fan whirring to life. the strike of a match. by the time he calls for you, youâre blinking in surprise at the open doorwayâsoft amber light glowing behind him, steam curling around his shoulders like a halo.
âbathâs ready,â he says simply, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world.
when you walk in, your jaw nearly drops. he didnât just run a bathâhe lit your favorite candle, dimmed the lights, dropped in one of those overpriced bath bombs you keep for special occasions. the water is warm, pale pink, with tiny flower petals floating on the surface. it smells like lavender and vanilla and everything soft. his hoodie slips off your shoulders. his hands help you step in. and when you sink down into the heat with a shaky exhale, it almost brings tears to your eyes.
you think thatâs itâjust a moment of care. just zayne being soft. until you hear the clink of his belt unbuckling. the quiet rustle of clothes falling to the tile. and then heâs stepping in behind you, legs bracketing yours, pulling you gently against his chest like youâre something precious. his arms wrap around your middle. his nose brushes the back of your neck.
âhurts?â he murmurs, voice warm and thick with concern. you nod. he presses a kiss there, low on your shoulder. âlet me help.â
his hands start slow. one resting flat over your stomach, rubbing lazy circles into the ache like heâs trying to coax it out of you. the other drifting beneath the surface, fingers trailing softly along your inner thigh. you sighâmelting into the heat of the water, the strength of his body behind you. and when his fingertips finally brush over your clit, light and teasing, your hips jolt forward with a whimper.
âsâokay,â he breathes, kissing just behind your ear. âyou can take it. i got you.â
heâs hard already. you can feel it, thick and twitching against your lower back. but he doesnât rush it. just keeps touching you with reverence, circling your clit until your head falls back against his shoulder, your legs opening without thought beneath the water. youâre wetter than you thought you could be, even like this. even aching and cramping and raw.
he moves his cock between your thighs before you even ask. guides it with one hand, slides it between your folds with practiced ease, slow and careful until heâs nudging at your entrance, murmuring, âtell me if it hurts.â you nod. he kisses your temple. and then he pushes inâslow. steady. your gasp echoes off the tile.
youâre so full. stretched around him, warm water sloshing as your hips shift. he doesnât thrust at first. just holds you there, chest to your back, his cock buried deep inside while his hand slides back down to rub gentle, slow circles over your clit again. itâs so much. the pressure, the heat, the dull cramp now replaced with this deep, blooming pleasure that makes your toes curl.
âthatâs it,â he whispers, rocking into you once, twice, every movement slick and seamless under the water. âlet me take care of you.â
you cum fast. embarrassingly fast. your hand flies to his forearm, fingers digging in as your whole body trembles in the water, thighs clenching around him, breath caught on a moan. he doesnât stop. just fucks you through it, pace slow and rhythmic, mouth pressed to your damp shoulder as you whimper his name again and again.
âfeel better now?â he asks when youâre trembling in his lap, completely boneless.
and all you can do is nod, face flushed, head lolling back against his shoulderâbecause the ache is gone, the cramps forgotten, and zayne is still inside you like he belongs there. like heâd stay there all night if you let him.
Ship: Incubus!Sylus x Nun!Reader x Priest!Zayne
Warnings: MDNI, 18+ Content Ahead, AFAB!Reader, No Y/N, 2nd Person, Use of Sister as in the Nun way not the Sibling way
Content Warnings: religious guilt, shame and self hatred, shapeshifting Sylus, dubious consent, slight coercion, oral sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, corruption, threesome m-m-f, p-in-v sex, double penetration, double vaginal penetration, loss of virginity, overstimulation, creampies
Word Count: 12.5k
A/N: This is my first Love and Deepspace fanfic! I'm very happy with how it came out and I hope you all enjoy it as well! Thank you so much to my beta readers @swiminthunder and @azure-nevermore. Without them, this fic would be a grammatical mess
Taglist: @salbeitraeume @luvinbloom @stuck-in-deepspace @xlinxsworld @vanaaa @nightlyrayne
Cross Posted to AO3
You admired Father Zayne; felt respect towards him that you had seldom experienced before. He was well spoken and commanding, he took great pride in his work, and he made extraneous efforts to help his community. He wanted everyone to feel at home in the Lordâs flock, and even if his face stayed relatively stoic, you saw him for the caring man he was. Ever since he filled in for Father William after his unfortunate passing, you havenât been able to focus on anything but him. He is well- spoken, and every service radiates the passion he has for his work. Nuns, priests, and churchgoers alike respect Father Zayne. Youâve even caught a couple of young women whispering about how handsome he is. Of course you playfully told them to keep their admirations to themselves lest someone hear. Though you had very little room to scold them for their proclivities.Â
While the members of your congregation are focused on the holy word that Father Zayne is preaching, all you can focus on is the man himself. His sharp features, angled nose, soft cupidâs bow, and intense gaze could put any angelic statue to shame. His hands, though often covered by pure white gloves, are deliciously veiny and large. The small bit of skin you are able to glimpse at through his vestments make you flustered in a way youâve never experienced. You feel disgusted by your behavior; you are in a holy place, under the Lordâs roof, and yet you have such impure thoughts. Lusting over the man who is the townâs holy beacon while you have taken an oath to the Lord. You pray every night to rid yourself of these unclean thoughts, doing everything in your power to rid yourself of this sin. However, these thoughts that plague you come back stronger every day. It is to the point that you wonder if you should avoid Father Zayne unless you absolutely have to. Being in his presence alone feels like temptation that if you were to indulge in would force you down a path of no return.Â
You snap out of your thoughts as people around you rise for benediction. You scramble to stand and partake in the final blessing of the service, closing your eyes and allowing Father Zayneâs voice to fall over you.Â
â...The Lord bless and keep you; The Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to youâŚGo in peace, Lord bless you all, and may you all get home safely.â Father Zayneâs voice echoed throughout the chapel as a choir of âamensâ rang in the air. You and your sisters gracefully escorted the members of your congregation to the front of the chapel, wishing them blessed good nights and safe travels.
Even as you spoke with the invigorated members of your church, your eyes couldnât help but wander over to Father Zayne. You kept sneaking glances at the taller man in his vestments. A part of you felt like a broken record thinking about how handsome he was for another night in a row, but it didnât make it any less true. As the last of the churchgoers left and your sisters began to trickle back into their dorm rooms for the night, you made your way over to Father Zayne.Â
âThat was a wonderful sermon, Father Zayne, I always look forward to the passion you exude during the gospel,â You praise, trying to tone down how excited you are to be speaking to him yet again. His face remains stoic, but you think you saw a small twitch of a smile creeping up on his lips. You may be imagining things, but you like to hold onto the hope that he enjoyed the praise he was given.
âThank you, Sister. I hope you have a good night, I must head back to my study before I turn in for the night,â Father Zayne spoke, nodding his head softly as he made his exit. You wave him goodbye and watch him turn the corner out of sight. You always wish you could have longer conversations with him, yearning to talk with him for hours on end, but that would be unbecoming of a nun. Your intentions with speaking with him arenât entirely pure, after all. The thumping in your chest, the way your cheeks heat up when heâs around, and the way your hands get clammy are all signs of your impurity. Once again, you need to relinquish your sins to the Lord before bed.Â
The bright gleam of the moon shone throughout the church grounds. You held a lantern in hand as you made your way back to your living quarters. The air was cool but nice, especially against your flushed skin. You folded your sweater closer to your chest, following the dimly lit path of the hallway. Despite walking these halls every single day and night, something appeared different tonight. Almost as if something was watching you. You tried to shake it off and convince yourself youâre just being paranoid, but the weight just wouldnât leave your shoulders. There were moments you swore you heard footsteps creeping up behind you, only for no one to be around. The feeling only intensified in your stomach as the temperature felt as if it had dropped. Your body shivered as you hurried your pace back to your room. Why did it feel as if the path to your dorm was taking even longer than usual?
âOh sweetie, you look so pitiful,â A voice echoes out. You snap your head around to follow the voice that calls to you, but youâre met with an empty hallway. A chill runs down your spine and you feel your heart thump in your ears. Surely you werenât hallucinating a voice speaking to you. What if this was the Lord himself speaking to you, just to call you pitiful? Youâre not sure which one would be worse at this moment. After a couple of more moments of silence, you make your way back to your room. Slowly opening the door, youâre met with an empty room, and a sense of relief washes over you. You shut the door behind you and set the lantern onto the bedside table as you sit down on your bed. You kick off your shoes, ready to quell the ache that is pulsating in your feet, when you finally notice a figure standing in front of your door.
âW-Who are you?â You gasp, eyes widening as you look at the otherworldly being up and down. The figure easily towered over you, his body large, muscular and imposing. His facial features were sharp and dangerous, and his crimson eyes intimidated you as if they stared directly into your soul. Messy silver hair hung above his eyes, but all you could focus on were the two dark red horns that sprouted out of his skull.Â
âA-A demon? What are you doing here?â Your voice stuttered, in complete disbelief that a creature of sin was standing before you in your bedroom, let alone inside the church. Your hands shakily scramble to the rosary around your neck, jutting the copper crucifix towards the man in front of you.Â
âSweetie, if that was enough to scorn me, do you really think I wouldâve made it this far?â He scoffed, almost offended that you thought a little cross could deter him. Still, you didnât let go of your hold on the cross despite your hands shaking in his presence. The warm and worn edges of your rosary seemed as if it was the only thing grounding you in this moment. A part of you wondered if you were dreaming, because in what world would a demon be residing in your room?Â
âI asked you what youâre doing hereâŚWhat do you want?â You swallow hard trying to maintain any semblance of confidence you could muster. You couldnât show this creature how weak and terrified you were. The man stepped towards you, looking closer at you as if he was examining you head to toe. You jolt slightly at his sudden movement, but determined to keep your resolve.
âYou are shaking like a little kitten with her tail between her legs, yet you are still trying to act tough and bare your fangs.â A small smirk crept up on his lips as a small chuckle left his throat. âHow cute.â The manâs tail swished behind him lazily, as if he was simply toying with some prey he had found outside.
âAre you not going to answer me?âÂ
âIf you must know, I followed a delicious scent in here.â He leaned closer to you until his face was hovering right above yours, his dark eyes possessing a certain hunger to them. âIt beckoned me to come closerâŚto take a bite.â You pulled away and crawled to the middle of your bed. You didnât understand what he was getting at, or maybe you didnât want to admit you had an inkling.
âWhat are you saying?â Your eyes squinted at him as you pulled your knees to your chest. Sylus looked a bit unamused at your inability to understand.Â
âMust I spell everything out?â He sighed, shaking his head. He raised his hand towards you and you instinctively closed your eyes, afraid of what he might do next. Surprisingly, he flicks your forehead with his middle finger, earning a small yelp from you. âIâm Sylus. I am an Incubus, a demon that feeds on desires. And you, my dear, are swimming in them.âÂ
A part of you sits in disbelief as you piece together his words. âDesires? Me? I think youâre sorely mistaken.â Sylus taps the tip of his beautifully chiselled nose and smirks.Â
âI think not. My nose never lies.âÂ
âWell, it did this time!â You snap. Your face grows red as you lose your composure, but Sylus seems unaffected by the sudden outburst.Â
âIf my nose suddenly went faulty, I might be in trouble,â He chuckled, crawling onto the bed closer to you. âYou got defensive awfully fastâŚI believe thereâs some feelings you have yet to come to terms with, Sister.â The demon gently touched your cheek with his fingers, his long nails trailing down to your throat.Â
âD-Donât call me that. Your unholy mouth shall not refer to me by my name, or Sister. In fact, I think you need to leave.â Slapping his hand away, you scoot further back towards the headboard, keeping your rosary jutted out towards him. You werenât going to relinquish your guard just yet.Â
This was nothing new to Sylus. Most humans were appalled at his arrival every time unless they were truly debaucherous. He rarely encountered a human that didnât fight his very presence, but they always caved eventually.Â
âIâm not leaving until I have gotten my fill. You wouldnât kick out a starving puppy would you, Kitten?â Your mouth hung agape as he laid onto your bed, lounging like he wasnât an intruder in your bedchambers.Â
âIt is a good thing that you are not a starving puppy. Besides, you will starve here as well. Thereâs nothing for you to feed on here, so please go elsewhere.â Despite how confident you try to sound, your voice wavers a bit at the end. Either way, he does not seem to be budging.Â
âAs much as I would love to leave, Kitten, I do not have the strength to. I followed my nose here in order to feed but that took the last of my energy.â Your eyes watched his tail lazily swish behind him before flopping over like a limping flower as he spoke. A part of you knew not to believe such a farce of a story, he looked well put together, not like a demon starving for his next meal. You could not see any traces of dark circles, sunken cheeks, or frail limbs on him. In fact, his muscles were deliciously well defined, his face was strong and handsome, and his eyes were intoxicating and you sensed as if they were already trying to pull you in. As if he could see the wheels in your head turning, he spoke up.Â
âUsually I can leave undetected, but with an empty stomach, I cannot guarantee I wonât be seen leaving your room. And how do you suppose you would explain an incubus to your fellow nuns?â The thought terrified you and sent ice through your veins. Imagining waking up the next morning and escorting a sex pest out of your room through the halls of a holy sanctuary. Your fellow Sisters would croak, and Father ZayneâŚHe would look at you with such disgust. He would discover the lustful thoughts you have about him, how you wish every day would come true and pray every night to go away. He would see you as unclean and filthy, and he would wonder why someone like you would even have been able to take an oath to begin with. Everything youâve worked hard for in the past 4 years would all be for naught.Â
After a couple minutes of silently spiraling, you clear your throat to speak. âI cannotâŚindulge in the ways you need to be fedâŚBut are there ways to feed you enough to where you can get enough strength to leave?âÂ
âThere arenât.â You were afraid of that answer. To be honest, this was all making your head swim in directions you werenât prepared for. It all made you feel trapped; if you let him stay then you ran the risk of being caught with a demon in your dorm, cast aside for being unclean and impure. However, if you fed him then wouldnât you be just as perverse as him? Why must the Lord test you in these ways? Perhaps it truly was a punishment for your behavior as of late.Â
âI can see your thoughts swirling around, Sister. Perhaps you should sleep on it for the night.â He hummed, poking the spot between your eyebrows.Â
âI do not wish to sleep unguarded in a room with a sexual deviant.âÂ
âDo not fret. I cannot do anything to you if you do not wish for it. I may be a deviant, but Iâm not a monster.â While you could feel a little tension in your body release as he spoke, his words did little to soothe the storm that was swirling inside you. Thoughts of your reputation, plans on what to do if he were discovered, and the occasional thought of how sinfully handsome he looked all amalgamated together into a ferocious cloud in your mind. Frankly, the situation made you exhausted, and as much as you would like to figure out a solution right this second, you need to sleep.Â
Rubbing your temples, you sighed heavily. âFor tonight, you may sleep in here. You must sleep on the floor and do not even ponder the idea of crawling into my bed or else-âÂ
âOr else what, Kitten?âÂ
âYou have terrible manners. Did your mother never teach you to not interrupt when someone is speaking?â He shrugged, but motioned for you to continue. You were already exasperated, and the night wasnât even over. âAs I was saying, you must sleep on the floor. During the day, you may stay in here, but if anyone comes into this room, you must hide yourself. I canât help you leave this place if you are caught. Any questions?â
âMay a poor demon have a pillow? The floor is awfully hard, Kitten.â Before he could ask anything else, you tossed a spare pillow towards him.Â
âGood night. Do not disturb me.â You huff. Sylus did not respond after, only giving you a deep laugh, lying down on the cold floor for the night. He was excited for the game you two were going to play from now on.Â
âââ ââ â° â â âââ
It had been a couple of days since you began harboring an incubus in your room. You were terrified of someone walking into your living quarters in the middle of the day and discovering your awful secret but it seems so far your secret was safe. In your free time, you attempted to do research on him in the library but alas, nothing came up in your search. Scanning through countless books you were unable to even find anything on incubi as well. It seems the Lord really was putting you between a rock and a hard place.Â
Hiding him in your room was weighing heavy on your conscience, you felt like you were living an even bigger lie than you originally had been dealing with. All you wanted to do was escape this situation unscathed and go back to normalcy but you had a feeling that wasnât going to happen anytime soon. Thankfully, despite his intimidating appearance, you come to realize Sylus was quite nice towards you. On days you would come back to your dorm after being on your feet all day, he would massage your sore feet and ankles. Taking his time to make sure all of the tension in your legs was gone before letting you sleep. He would tell you about what he saw out of the window that day; some days it was birds building a nest in the tree next to your window, others it was the cat that was roaming around the convent. He would make remarks about how plump the little feline is getting due to everyone spoiling him.Â
You never completely let your guard rest around him, wondering every time he was nice to you if it was just a ploy to defile you. He never pushed, though, which surprised you. You hated to admit it, but Sylus was growing on you a bit, even if you were still wary of him. While scripture had taught you about demons that lead you to temptation, you never expected the one that appeared at your door step would be kind or interested in watching animals outside your bedroom window. It was a very strange feeling, and you werenât sure what to make of it.Â
Without realizing it, though, he had gotten you to talk about Father Zayne. It started out as vague mentions here and there of your daily duties, but it quickly evolved into long conversations about your intense admiration for the man. How he was extremely intelligent, a great leader, how his voice made your heart beat out of your chest, and how when he smiled at you you often wondered if you had gone to Heaven somehow. You were embarrassed to say these thoughts out loud; until now, they had been locked deep inside of you. It was freeing in a way to finally get it off your chest, but the heat on your face wouldnât go away. Sylus said very few words and just let you speak your mind, but a smirk never left his face as you indulged in your feelings.Â
Long after you went to bed, he watched you carefully, observing the slow rise and fall of your chest. He had finally figured out the source of those desires that you had denied ever having. Even now through âinnocentâ chatter amongst you two, he could sense the desire you have for this man and how youâve rebranded it as admiration. He couldnât help but let out a low laugh, finding you completely and utterly adorable. Perhaps this meal was going to be even more delicious than he had initially planned for.Â
âââ ââ â° â â âââ
It had been a long day of cleaning and organizing with your Sisters, lending your helping hand wherever you could. Thankfully after hours of hard work, you were finally done. As you began to make your way back to your dorm, you were stopped by Sister Simone.Â
âAh! Before you head back, do you mind taking these files to Father Zayne? I was heading there but Mother Jenna needs my help.â Despite exhaustion beginning to set in your bones, you agreed. She handed you two large boxes of files, thanking you as she headed in the opposite direction. A part of you was excited to see Father Zayne. You hadnât crossed his path in a few days, so this was a much welcome addition thrown your way. As you arrived at his office door, you set the boxes down for a moment as you knocked softly on the dark wood.Â
âCome in.â Zayneâs smooth voice echoed through the door. You opened the door slowly and was immediately met with a sight you werenât prepared for. Absent were his normal vestments in favor of a white button up, rolled up to his elbows. The shirt fit him well but as he moved, you could see it taut against his chest giving you the faintest hint of how toned he was underneath the fabric. His usual swept back hair was a bit disheveled, and a sheen of sweat and a flush decorated his cheeks. At the tip of his nose sat a pair of wire glasses you never even knew he owned. You already thought he looked very handsome, but this was a completely different aura to him, one that you realized was dangerous to be near. Your heart began to ring in your ears, your hands grew clammy, and all you could do was stare in awe of this man crafted by the Lord himself.Â
âIs everything alright, Sister?â His voice snapped you out of a trance you didnât register you were in. You blinked a couple of times, fumbling to get your words out.Â
âAh! Y-Yes! Sorry Father, I was asked to drop these file boxes off to you.â You bent down and hoisted the boxes back up. âWhere would you like me to put them?âÂ
âFeel free to set them over there, next to that shelf. I will go through them in a moment.â He pointed to a corner of the room, resuming the task of organizing the papers he had in his hand. Placing the box where he said to, you finally took in your surroundings. His office was disheveled as boxes, file folders, papers, and scrolls littered every surface. It seems as if thereâs a method to his madness, but you were unsure of what it was. Turning back to Zayne, you could see his brows stuck in a permanent furrow as he intensely read through the papers in his hand.Â
âFather ZayneâŚItâs already very late. Are you sure you donât want to take a break for the night?â The man shook his head and let out a small sigh.Â
âUnfortunately, if I leave my office in the state that it is in now I will not be able to sleep.âÂ
âThenâŚmay I help you? If you were to do this alone, you will be here until dawn. It will be faster if it is the both of us.â Zayne looked up at you for a moment. He scanned the room around him as if he was pondering on what his next move should be.Â
âVery well⌠I appreciate the help, Sister.â With that, the two of you worked in tandem to clean up the storm that had been created in his chambers. While you worked, you both spoke about a variety of topics, such as sermons, events planned during the rest of the year, and the reasons why both of you chose the path of the Lord. You learned that after serving, Zayne had met Father William and that William took him under his wing. He made him realize that life wasnât just war and bloodshed, but that there could be peace and stability through it all. He spoke of his own admiration for Father William, and the more he spoke you swore, you could see a twinkle in his eye. This was the longest you had ever got to be around Zayne, and you enjoyed your time together. How easy the conversation flowed, how being in each otherâs spaces feltâŚright.Â
After putting away the final book on Father Zayneâs shelf, the two of you stood back to admire your work.
 âI appreciate the help, Sister. It was nice to have some company while I worked.â He looked over at you, and for the first time all night, youâve got to see his features up close. His mouth twitched up in a small, genuine smile, and his eyes were tired but grateful. You could feel a blush blooming onto your cheeks as you looked away.Â
âI-It was no trouble at all. I wouldnât have been able to rest well either, knowing you were working here all night.âÂ
âI will take care of the boxes in the morning. Go get some rest, Sister. And thank you again.â He opened the door for you and walked out behind you. Locking his door, he turned to walk away before stopping. He looked at you once last time and gave a small nod, âGood Night.âÂ
âGood Night, Father Zayne.â And with that, you were now alone. The walk back to your dorm started out at a normal pace, but quickly grew more frantic the closer you got to your room. The heat that had burned your cheeks for the past few hours had crept down to your cunt. Your core throbbed, and your mind was flooded by thoughts of Father Zayne. The sweat glistening on his forehead, his button up stretching against the muscles you had never noticed, the scars that littered his deliciously toned forearms. How would his hands feel if they had traced your chaste body? Would the sweat still glimmer the same on his forehead if he were on top of you? What expressions would he make as the both of you committed the ultimate sin? Your head began to swim, unable to fight between shame and pure unadulterated lust.Â
Stepping into your dorm room, Sylus quickly sensed the intense arousal oozing out around you. Your pheromones were sickly sweet, desperate to be devoured. âWhat exciting adventure happened today to get you so worked up, Kitten?â He stepped towards you, and you practically threw yourself into Sylusâ arms. Your body ached and yearned to be touched. Fire coursed through your veins, and an unfamiliar heat lit up in your core. You grasped onto Sylusâ arm, face flushed and breath uneven as you looked into his crimson orbs.Â
âW-What are you doing to me?â You whispered. He smirked and lifted his hand up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.Â
âIâm not doing anything, everything youâre feeling right nowâŚevery ache, every fiery sensationâŚis your body yearning to be touched. Youâre yearning to be devoured.â His voice faded into a whisper as he spoke his truth. He had no hand in the overwhelming feelings that were welling up inside of you; he was merely a spectator. âThey were here long before I arrived.â
âWhat do I do about them? I-Iâve never felt this way prior to you...â Your mouth was as dry as cotton as you desperately cling to his arm. A part of you was scared, scared of what you were feeling, scared of what to do about it, and scared of what came after.Â
âI can help extinguish these flames, but only if you want me to. If you say yes, youâll be giving up a part of your oathâŚa part of yourself.â His sultry voice called to you like a siren song as his lips softly caressed your jaw. Without realizing it you let out a small gasp, the small bit of contact making the ache explode in your chest. Your eyes shut as you relished in the small bit of ecstasy. You knew you needed to say no, you needed to stay pure for the Lord, for your faith, for ZayneâŚbut you were running out of reasons to say no to this silver haired seductress. He lied in wait for your consent, you held all the power in this situationâŚbut you never felt more out of control in your whole life.Â
As you weighed the morality of your options in your head, his lips never left your jaw, painstakingly painting a trail of fire from your ear to your collar bones. Your resolve was quickly melting away, and you were struggling to keep your head on your shoulders. Your eyes fluttered open to see dark hair brush against you, and hazel eyes gazing at you with that familiar hunger.Â
âSisterâŚI see how you look at me. How you look away when I meet your gaze. I wish to see more of you, to see expressions that are locked away from others. Please, wonât you grant me this one selfish wish? Wonât you let me help you?â The voice that came out of his mouth was not Sylusâ smooth and seductive tone that you had grown accustomed to, but the soft, professional voice that echoed in the chapel every service. The face that greeted you every morning when you came to do your daily chores. The man you have yearned for every single day now in your bedroom, here to fulfil the one lustful dream that has plagued you.
âPleaseâŚâ in a way you felt betrayed by your own words. How much longer were you going to keep fighting this feeling, these sinful urges? With your aching words, Zayne immediately got to work, small whimpers left your lips as each article of clothing made its way unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. You covered your eyes with your hands as you laid close to the man of your affections, in nothing but a set of white cotton. Embarrassment crept into your skin, the cool air brushed against your bare skin. He brushed the tips of his fingers along the hem of your bra, tracing the fabric that laid upon your ribs gently.Â
âMay I?â He whispered. You bit your lip softly and nodded. Sliding his hands to your back, he unclasped the back of your bra and slid it off your body. Heat welled up in your face as his piercing gaze focused on your breasts.
âMmn!â A small whimper slipping its way past your lips as his hands squeezed the plump flesh of your breasts. He fondled them carefully, taking his time in feeling the weight spill into his fingers. He dragged the pad of his thumb along your perky nipples, rubbing small circles on the nub. Each movement of his thumb sent waves of electricity through your body. It was such a simple gesture, yet your body temperature was already heating up.Â
With a hungry gaze, Zayne leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the soft skin. You didnât dare look at him, shutting your eyes tightly as you focused on his tongue exploring your tender breasts. His hot breath tickled you as he lapped at your flesh. The sensation of his lips grazed your skin while his tongue claimed you made your head spin.Â
âSisterâŚâ Zayneâs voice whispered, âPlease look at me.â You obediently followed his request and slowly opened your eyes. You moved your hands slowly as Zayne grabbed them gently and pulled them away from your face.Â
âS-SylusâŚThis is embarrassingâŚâ You whimpered, averting your gaze a little. You couldnât handle those strict hazel eyes looking at you, not when you were exposed like this. Not when laid bare with all of your desires on the table.Â
âI do not appreciate being called another manâs name, Sister.â He said, a small look of irritation tightening his features. âI know you know what my name is, say it.â He ordered. His gaze seared into your skin, his eyes never leaving yours even as you attempted to swallow away the shame that you couldnât shake off.Â
âF-Father ZayneâŚâ You uttered.Â
âGood girlâŚâ He softly smiled, bringing your hands to his lips and kissing your knuckles gently. âNow, please watch me Sister. Do not tear your gaze from me.â You nodded softly as he tucked your hands beside you. He quickly nestled himself in between your breasts, taking the other nipple into his mouth and giving it the much needed attention it yearned for. Your other one was not neglected, however, as his fingers flicked and tugged on the protruding buds.Â
âA-Ah~! Father!â You whined, moving your palms back to your mouth in attempt to muffle any sinful noises that dared to escape your lips. It was only while watching Father Zayneâs hands explore your chest that you realized just how large his hands were. They easily engulfed your chest, massaging the flesh in his palm. He grazed your nipple with his teeth gently, sliding the erect nub between his tongue and teeth. He soon pulled away reluctantly. He loved the idea of spending all night suckling at your breasts until sunrise came, but he was here to feed after all. He craved the arousal that youâve been oozing since the day he stepped into the convent. He could be roaming the city having a meal every night, but he preferred to work for his food. The harder he worked, the more delicious the bounty in the end. And what could be more delicious than a sexually repressed nun drowning in desires? Now that he has you beneath him, he was ready to finally taste the sweetness that had been teasing him for days now.
His hands travelled from your ribs, to your stomach, to the hem of your underwear that sat firmly on your hips. He thumbed the band of the underwear, looking up at you with silent instruction. Your hips raised slightly to allow Zayne to slide your underwear off with ease. Adding to the list of discarded clothes, he took in your form; memorizing the way your skin flushed with arousal and embarrassment, the small curves of your body, the small tufts of hair that settled between your thighs, and how every touch made you ache for more.Â
Zayne leaned down and settled himself between your legs, his breath tickling the inside of your thighs. He trailed his fingers along your soft curls, brushing them gently between his digits and spreading open your folds to inspect your eager hole. Once again you wanted to hide away, to crawl into a hole and perish. Every time you sensed the urge to close yourself away, you looked down at Father Zayneâs yearning gaze. Youâve dreamt about him begging to touch you, to taste you, and now you finally have everything youâve dreamed about handed to you on a silver platter. Sure, itâs not the real him, but you never expected the real him to show up in your bedchambers anyway. You never expected anything from him, not even the greetings he returns when you speak to him every morning. You keep telling yourself youâre happy with the little he gives you, but in this moment, you realize truly how much you crave from this man. He would never stoop so low as to ruin his holiness for a simple nun, and you wouldnât want him to anyway. If youâre going to cross into the world of sin and debauchery, you want to leave him unscathed.Â
You snapped out of your thoughts once you sensed something warm pressing against your folds. Looking down, you see Zayneâs tongue lay flat on your lips, licking long strides up your sensitive slit until he flicks your clit with the very tip of his tongue. Your voice hitched and you immediately slap your hands against your mouth once more.Â
âItâs a shameâŚI desperately want to hear your moans, but it would be quite the predicament if we were caught.â Zayne sighed, almost disappointed. Nevertheless, he continued lightly teasing your pussy, his tongue carefully mapping out a trail of desire. You slid one of your hands to his hair, startled by just how soft his dark locks were at your fingertips. If you werenât in the predicament you were in, you could spend all day just running your fingers through his hair. You imagined his head laying on your chest, moving in tandem with the rise and fall of your chest as you played with his hair. Somehow this was more intimate than anything that was to come.Â
You watched as he snaked his hands around your thighs, squeezing the soft and silky flesh before wrapping his mouth around your core. He began to lap at your cunt like a man starved, devouring you as if you were his last meal on earth. Your hips threatened to lift off of the bed, but he tightened his grip on you to make sure you couldnât run away. You whimpered and moan against the palm of your hand, terrified of any sound leaking through your fingers as he mercilessly attacked your pussy. Wrapping his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves, he began to suckle on your clit messily.Â
âNgnn~!â Your voice hitched. Keeping your voice lowered was impossible at this rate, but you had to, or else you would alert the sleeping sisters next door. Panting and moaning into your palm, you tried to steady yourself, but it was almost as if Zayne was doing everything in his power to get you to squeal. He was determined to make you utterly lose control and dive head first into passion and lust. You felt his finger prod your tight hole, slowly pushing inside of you. Your tight walls clamped around him, the foreign protrusion sending shock waves through your body. You wriggled in his tight grip, unable to handle this sudden onslaught of pleasure. You never experienced anything like this, anything so intense, so overstimulating, so addicting.Â
âLet me in SisterâŚLet me give you the full extent of pleasure possible.â Zayne gasped, his mouth sticky with your juices. Slowly thrusting his finger inside of you, he looked up at you with pleading eyes to let him in. It was so hard though, you never had anything like his thick finger trying to curl inside of you. It was overwhelming to feel your most sensitive spots being rubbed by his calloused fingers.Â
âI-IâŚngnnn~ I canât Father!â Your voice flutters, choking the words out between moans.Â
âYes, you can. Youâre already taking me so well. I know she wants me to fill her up more.â Zayne begged, making his middle finger speed up inside of you. He was enthralled by how you pulsated around him, how your juices dripped into his palm, and how your cunt echoed sloppy wet noises in your room. If you two werenât condemned to be quiet, he would be relishing every moan you could give him like it was a symphony created for him alone.Â
Eventually, you were loose enough for Zayne to slip in a second finger, stretching your cunt slightly more but it felt like such a big leap. It wasnât very large, but you already throbbed like you were filled to the brim. You werenât sure how much more you could take. Pleasure was pooling in your stomach and you wondered if you were going to burst like a balloon. You gripped his hair harder as he continued to drive you closer and closer to orgasm, earning a groan from Zayne. He took this as his sign to try harder, speeding up his fingers, curling them deep inside and lapping at your clit with a desperation heâs never had previously. Your thighs trembled in his grip and your hips began to grind into his mouth, rutting against him. You were close, and he could feel it. How was he able to somehow press every button to nudge you closer to release? You knew he was a sex demon, but it was unnatural for him to know every single thing that made you tick.Â
âZ-Zayne I-â You whimpered, fisting his hair and holding his face close to your throbbing cunt. âI feel weird~! I- haah~ I-I! Ngnn!â You moan, your eyes rolling back as your back arches off the bed. The room became blurry as you nearly screamed into the palm of your hand. Unknowingly, you achieved your first orgasm and Sylus was there happily lapping up every drop of juice you bestowed upon him. By the time you regained your senses, the familiar silver haired devil was between your legs, lapping at your cum that drenched his fingers.Â
âYouâre intoxicatingly sweet~â He cooed. âI knew I had a delicious meal waiting for me, and you are by far the most delicious,â Sylus hummed, planting chaste kisses to your inner thighs. His own body was energized and powerful, enjoying the delectable meal that had been given to him. Your sickly sweet essence courses through his veins, a delightful feeling after going hungry for some time.Â
Your body grew heavy with exhaustion as he cleaned you up, grabbing a rag from your drawer to wipe the mess away from your thighs. You were surprised at how gentle he was, rubbing the cloth on your fevered skin as if you were a delicate piece of glass that would break if he pressed too hard. A startling juxtaposition to the intense actions that just concluded moments ago.Â
âIâŚI donâtâŚâ You stuttered, trying to wrap your head around what happened. âWhatâŚwas that?âÂ
A deep laugh reverberated in Sylusâ chest as he finished wiping your body down and pulling the blanket out from under you. âCongratulations, you experienced your first orgasm. This is the pleasure they warn you about, Kitten, the whole reason they want you to live a life of chastityâŚIf you had intense pleasure like this every day, itâs hard to focus on the word of the Lord, is it not?â You nodded sleepily, not completely registering Sylusâ words. He tucked you in and laid next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. âSleep now. You did well, Kitten.â He whispered, his soothing deep voice lulling you to sleep.Â
The next morning you were quick to try and hide the evidence of your wrongdoings, but you noticed that Sylus had already done the work for you. All except a much needed bath. You kept your head low for the day, head in the clouds as you fought between the shame and guilt you felt for breaking your oath to the Lord and the burning passion that seemed to only ignite further due to last nightâs activities. You had been taught your whole life to detest any lustful feelings and thoughts, that they were unholy and unclean. And yet, indulging in them sparked a thrill and a sense of freedom that you had never thought possible. Perhaps that was what made you feel so ashamed in the first place, that you enjoyed it and yearned for more. You should feel more regret for your actions, for walking into the dark side, but Lord, you were invigorated.Â
You had been standing in place for a while without realizing it, your mind wandering with each thought. You were only brought back to reality with a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and was met with the concerned face of Sister Tara.Â
âAre you alright? Youâve been standing here for quite some time,â She asked, worry plaguing her features. You smiled softly at her and brushed away any concern.Â
âYes Iâm quite alright. I just had a bit of trouble sleeping last night,â You uttered, resuming your task of sweeping up the leaves from the courtyard.Â
âMaybe you should go get some rest? I can take over your duties if youâre not feeling well,â Tara said.Â
âI appreciate the offer, Sister, but Iâm quite alright. I fear I would just be sitting on the bed staring at the ceiling if I were to lie down at this hour.â You chuckled, but your words did little to make Tara feel better.
âAlrightâŚâ Sister Tara was unconvinced, but did little to press you further, âIf you change your mind, come find me and I will take over for you.â She smiled, making her way back inside. You hated lying to her, sheâs always been so sweet to you. The both of you joined the convent at around the same time and have been close since then. It always comforted you to have someone close to you in age here. It helped make you feel less alone and you know that she matched your same thoughts and energy. You wonder how sheâd react knowing the reason you didnât sleep well was because you were having sexual exploits with a demon you have holed up in your living quarters. Poor thing might croak at the revelation.Â
Despite refusing Taraâs offer, your attention span didnât get much better. You bumped into the other nuns, stumbled over your own two feet, ran into walls and pillars, and even broke a plate during meal time. You were a complete and utter wreck. It had been years since you were scolded by Mother Jenna but yet here you are, being lectured as if you were a newcomer.Â
âIâm sorry MotherâŚâ you uttered, unable to meet her intense expression.Â
âTake this plate and reflect on your actions today. You may get up once everyone has finished their meals.â Jenna ordered, handing you the two largest halves of the broken plate. You nodded obediently and made your way to the corner of the refectory, kneeling with plate in hand and began to pray. You prayed for forgiveness for breaking the plate, for allowing temptation to latch itself into your veins, and indulging in them in a place so sacred. How can you ask for forgiveness for a plate when you have something more heinous looming over your head? You werenât even sure you deserved it.Â
At that nightâs sermon, you could barely look at Father Zayne as he spoke. Every glance you managed to sneak in just reminded you of the filthy actions you committed the night prior. You couldnât bear to keep having those thoughts in the Lordâs house, to be filled with lust while sitting in the pews next to your sisters was blasphemous. You opted to just keep your face to the Bible in your hands, pretending to follow along with the scripture. Before you knew it, the service was over and your Sisters were already heading towards the doors to help see everyone off for the night. You put on a brave face and wished everyone safe travels and thanked them for their continued attendance.Â
Father Zayne had noticed your lack of usual spark and enthusiasm. Without realizing it, he had grown accustomed to you finding him after each service to tell him what you enjoyed about each one. He would notice the light in your eyes as you spoke and the eventual redness that would dust your cheeks as he gave you well wishes for a good night. However, tonight you had barely looked at him during service, and even now, you began to make your way back to your living quarters without so much as even acknowledging his presence. For a man in his position, it would have just been better to leave you alone, but something gnawed at him from deep inside his stomach. Before you were able to leave the chapel completely, he called out to you. âSister!â
You slowly turned around to face him, the familiar redness on your cheeks still present even as you acted uncharacteristically. He caught up to you and examined your features. Thankfully, you still had color to your face, and he didnât see any dark circles or hollowed out cheeks. The only thing he could notice was some turbulence that sat behind your eyes, as if your mind had been a storm for quite some time.Â
âMy apologies for calling out to you, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. You donât seem like yourself right now. Is there anything troubling you, Sister?â He spoke, worry furrowing itself between his brows. You hated making him fret over you or your silly chaotic thoughts, but a part of you couldnât help but relish in the fact that for once he sought you out and not the other way around. It didnât help the complicated feelings that circled in your chest.Â
âIâm quite alright, Father.â You smiled softly, not quite meeting his gaze. âMy sleep was a bit perturbed last night so I have felt under the weather. I appreciate you asking about me, but I think I will turn in early for the night.â And with that, you quickly turned to head back to your bedroom.Â
âGood night.â He managed to choke out as you walked away. It had reached you but you couldnât react, not now. He wasnât satisfied with the answer, and he knew he shouldnât press but, something just wasnât quite right. He watched you turn the corner out of his sight. He began to turn away himself, but then he noticed a shadow following you. At first he wanted to chalk it up to your own, but the way it moved was unnatural. His jaw tightened as he pondered on what to do, but either way he wanted to get to the bottom of it.Â
âââ ââ â° â â âââ
Back in your room, Sylus lounged on your bed as he perked up a bit at your arrival. His normally bored expression grew relaxed as he watched your frame shuffle into the cramped dorm room.
âThere you are, Kitten. I was wondering if you were ever going to make your way back here,â He cooed, his tail swishing behind him. It reminded you of a cat in a way, the way their tails move back and forth when theyâre stalking their prey.Â
âItâs SisterâŚâ you grumbled, sitting down on the bed. He scooted closer to you, arm snaking around your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder.
âYou look tenseâŚDo you need me to take care of you again?â He planted a chaste kiss to your jaw as his free hand began to roam your torso. You scrunch up your face and nudge his face with your palm.Â
âYou are the reason why I am tense. Youâve ruined everything.â You sigh, continuing your gaze upon the hardwood floor beneath your feet.
âOh? Do tell,â He hummed, pulling you into his lap. As much as you wanted to yell, to push him off of you and give him a piece of your mind, you donât have the strength. You were the one who fell into temptation; he was simply just someone who dished it out.Â
âBefore you came here I was living a normal lifeâŚI was perfectly content with my life here, with talking with my SistersâŚwith Father Zayne. Now, I canât look any of them in the eye. Iâm ashamed of what Iâve done, ashamed Iâve let myself be tempted by a demon and let him lounge in my bed as if heâs a pet. I shouldâve screamed and fought you when I first saw youâŚI hate youâŚâ Your voice trails off near the end, not even having the heart to finish your sentence. Sylus remains unfazed by this, nuzzling his face against your cheek.Â
âMmmâŚBut you didnât,â He simply stated. âI think you are coming to terms with the reality that you havenât been as pure as you thought. That these lustful feelings have been swirling around in you for some time now, and that whether I was here or not, they were going to swallow you up eventually,â Sylus spoke matter of factly, as if he had witnessed this exact scenario a thousand times. Â
âI feel like Iâm being torn apart. Iâm plagued by my guilt of betraying the Lord and disgust of letting myself be taintedâŚbut then Iâm also wrestling with my thoughts on how good it felt, how free and euphoric my body was all at once. I canât decide what to do, and itâs troubling meâŚâ You admit, voicing your concerns. Itâs strange, confessing your sins to a demon in your bedroom rather than to a priest in a confessional. Your chest was a bit lighter getting this off of your chest but it didnât solve the situation.Â
âWho said you have to choose right now? Youâre putting so much pressure on yourself to decide, when you can just focus on feelingâŚâ He planted a small kiss on your neck. âI can do all the thinking for you right now.â His whispers were so tempting. His hands slid to the edge of your skirt, sliding his hand ever so slowly up the side of your thigh. You felt like you should fight against this but, remembering the freedom you experienced last night, you didnât dare. Maybe having a demon do your thinking for you as he fondled your body in every right way wasnât such a bad idea. Before you could react, the door to your room swung open. You jolted in Sylusâ grip as you realized the unwelcome guest was Father Zayne himself, but, Sylus seemed completely unfazed.Â
âFather Zayne? What are you doing here?â You gasp, wriggling in Sylusâ grip to make him let you go. However, he seems to only tighten his hold on you, leaving you plastered to him.Â
âSisterâŚâ The shock in his voice was evident to you. His face scrunched slightly as he examined what was laid out in front of him. He saw the fear and embarrassment in your features, the small tears in your eyes as you attempted to wriggle out of the demonâs grip. As he turned to Sylus, his gaze darkened and anger flooded his senses. âYou are not welcome here. Leave at once.â
Sylus continued to remain unaffected by just getting caught. To him, he had no qualms in being caught, he didnât have years of religious training to keep him on the straight and narrow. He was a creature forged by chaos and lust, determined to create chaos wherever he went. Crosses and scripture written by man had no bearing on him and did not frighten him. If he stood, he would tower over the young priest, and could absolutely crush him in a test of strengths. âOh no, it seems weâve been caught. What a shame, I was hoping to have a little bit more fun before someone came and ruined it.âÂ
You continued to struggle in Sylusâ arms, panic settling into your bones as your mind swam. How could you even begin to explain this to the one man you never wanted to find out? That a demon was here because you let him in and had refused to shoo him away this entire time. âF-Father pleaseâŚI can explainâŚâ Your voice came out more feeble than you were expecting. Terrified of what would happen next, you refused to look up at Zayne. Would he be disgusted? Ashamed? You wouldnât blame him for reacting that way, heavens know you would if you were in his shoes.Â
As he watched you struggle in the demonâs arms, he couldnât help but squeeze his fists and tighten his jaw. After Father Williamâs passing, he became incredibly lonely, losing the only mentor he had and the only person he had any closeness with. When his duties were passed to him, he of course wanted to do right by the man who brought him up from darkness, but he didnât expect to find a light in this small church. At first, he was unused to the casual greetings and kindness you showed him, but slowly he began to open up. He noticed the blush that would spread across your face when he was near and how you stuttered more around him. You, however, didnât notice the soft glances Father Zayne directed towards you. How he would always stop when you called his name, no matter what he was doing. Even if he couldnât talk long, he would spare the time, no exceptions. Now seeing you enraptured by this incubi made him wonder if he did something wrong. If he didnât express his gratitude and feelings towards you soon enough that you fell right into the arms of a predator.Â
âYou should be ashamed for attacking an innocent nun, you foul beast. Though I should not expect someone of your standing to have standards.â Zayne spat, his dark expression never leaving Sylusâ.Â
âInnocent? I think our Sister here is a bit less innocent than you may think, Father.â A deep laugh vibrated against your back as Sylusâ free hand roamed up to the hem of your skirt. He gripped the fabric in his fist and ripped it off with ease. Your panties had also been a victim to his brute strength, leaving you bare in front of the man you looked up to. âKitten, you wound me. Last night you were melting underneath my touch, but tonight, you act as if I am a nuisance. Thatâs not very nice.â Sylus feigned a wounded tone. Sylusâ large hands held your legs open, exposing your bare cunt to the Zayne. You couldnât even look up at Zayne, you were humiliated to your core. You tried to use a free hand to cover yourself but it did little to shield your arousal. Zayneâs jaw tightened at the scene before him. He shouldnât be indulging in this demonâs game, yet here he was, enticed by your hole fluttering around nothing and dripping onto the sheets beneath your bottom. Your feeble attempts to hide it also did not go unnoticed. Â
Your eyes stayed tightly shut as you attempted to free yourself once more. You couldnât let Father Zayne be taken down this path of debauchery. If he leaves now, he can pretend he never saw anything, taking plausible deniability. You can leave the convent tonight, run away taking no more casualties and never look back.Â
âPlease Father ZayneâŚleaveâŚâ You whimper, small tears running down your cheeks. Sylus never broke his gaze directed towards Zayne. He watched as the holy man struggled to keep himself composed. His mouth was clenched together tightly, his face and ears were dusted with a pretty pink, and his priestly robes were doing little to hide the growing erection in his pants.Â
âFather, you are feeling some impure thoughts yourself, are you not?â Sylus hummed, the vibration of his voice tickling your back. He relished in the sweet smell of your and Zayneâs arousal mixing together in the room, working in tandem with one another to create a sickly sweet scent that he was growing obsessed with. Sylus slid one of his hands to your throbbing core, easily sliding his fingers through your slick. You couldnât hold back a small yelp from slipping past your lips. You wriggled in Sylusâ grip, trying to fight your hips jutting forward as he lazily traced circles around your clit. His fingers barely moved around your plump lips, and already your wetness was echoing in the room for the both of them to hear.Â
Zayne stood frozen as he watched you become a plaything for Sylus. He focused on Sylusâ fingers swirling around your swollen bud, and your body twitching with every fragment of stimulation. You tried so hard to hold back any moans from escaping your lips, but your body reacted on its own. Every small jerk of your hips, every soft whimper you let out, and the beautiful look on your flushed face fueled his jealousy. He wasnât angry you were committing an atrocious sin, he was upset because another man was making you feel this way. He should be the one to be making you writhe in ecstasy. âAre you sure you donât want a taste, Father? I can attest that sheâs quite delicious.â He smirked.Â
Zayneâs resolve finally snapped, hearing about this demon taking a taste for himself felt like the final straw. Moving closer to you he dropped to his knees, shooting a glare to Sylus before inspecting your dripping core. While Sylusâ hands went back to holding you wide open, Zayneâs gloved hands pressed into your inner thighs as he inched his face closer. His hot breath tickled your folds as he examined your glistening pussy up close. Your gaze flew open, you watched as Zayne leaned forward and placed his lips onto your cunt. Did your eyes deceive you? Was this another one of Sylusâ illusions?Â
âF-Father Zayne what are you-â You squeak, your voice quickly evolving into moans as his tongue dragged along your folds. You threw your body against Sylusâ large chest, gripping his forearm with an iron grip as you watched Zayne carefully. His approach to eating you out was a lot more awkward than Sylusâ, but Lord, did it still feel amazing. A part of you kept waiting for you to snap awake and this all be a dream, a terribly horny dream, but it never did. Rather than having some farce imitation please you like the night prior, here was the real man pleasuring you. The real Zayne was between your legs, lapping at your sex with a hunger that you never thought would cross the young priestâs mind.Â
His thumb snaked up and pressed against your clit as he focused on pushing his tongue into your tight hole. Small groans left his lips every time your hole clenched around his tongue and it only encouraged him to please you more. He was going to be damned if a sex demon could please you better than he could. Your back arched and your hand made its way down to his dark locks, tightening your grip on them as if trying to tether yourself to reality. Sylus focused on nipping and kissing your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of marks without care. He didnât intervene just yet but still wanted to make his presence known. The mix of pheromones in the room was intoxicating to him, making his body burn with a hunger he hadnât experienced in a very long time. He knew by the end of the night, he was going to be well fed for many moons to come.Â
For a moment, Zayne pulled his mouth away and looked up at you. His fingers lazily traced the outside of your hole, watching it twitch and beg to be filled. âAre you feeling alright, Sister?â You shakily nod, only being able to muster out a few whimpers.
âI think our dear Priest deserves a proper answer, donât you think?â Sylus cupped your jaw and forced you to look at Zayne. âGo onâŚâÂ
âI-It feelsâŚs-so good!â You pant. âP-PleaseâŚdonât stop.âÂ
âWell, donât keep the lady waiting.â Sylus asserted. Zayne obediently followed his command and slipped two fingers into your throbbing pussy. You yelped in pleasure as you felt them slip inside. After spending months of looking at Father Zayneâs hands, you knew his fingers were beautifully long and thick, but you never thought youâd get to feel them nestled deep inside you. They were even bigger than you had imagined, hitting every sensitive spot inside of you as if his fingers were made for your pussy. He laid his tongue flat against your clit once more, wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub. He suckled and swirled the tip of his tongue against it while thrusting his fingers slowly. Zayne began to realize how intoxicating this orchestra of noises that bellowed out of you were. They were more melodic than any record or choir he had ever heard. He had only just dipped his toes into temptation and was already jumping head first into the deep end.Â
As much as Sylus enjoyed watching the two of you play around, he was eager to have his own as well. Letting Zayne hold one of your thighs, he snaked his free hand up to one of your plump breasts. He groped the weight of it in his palm before rubbing the sensitive nub between two of his fingers. Electricity was coursing through your veins with every touch the two men gave you. Zayneâs fingers curled deep inside of you, rubbing against your most sensitive spot, causing your hips to shoot up off of Sylusâ lap. He methodically prodded against your g-spot and you already thought you were going to see heaven. Zayne was bringing you closer to orgasm with each second and Sylus was only adding fuel to the fire.Â
âMmmâŚDonât run from it, KittenâŚRemember how good it felt last night? Why not show that same courtesy to your favorite priest? Iâm positive heâs dying to see your blissed-out expression.â Sylus whispered, nuzzling his nose against your earlobe. Your hands latched onto whatever it could to ground you in this moment, opting to have one hand on Sylusâ forearm and your other fisted in Father Zayneâs hair.Â
âI-I~! Oh God~!â Unable to warn either of them, your body convulsed with pleasure, moans echoing out of you haphazardly. Looking at you, Zayne couldnât believe his eyes. You were absolutely stunning as your face contorted with pleasure. He had been blessed to witness many beauties in life; breathtaking scenery, magnificent artwork, miracles performed in front of him, but yet they all paled in comparison to the flushed expression on your features. He thought back to all of the small smiles you had given him, the redness sprouting on your cheeks and the tip of your nose when you got embarrassed, the few times your hands bumped earlier while cleaning, and suddenly his greed consumed him. He wanted all of those things, he wanted more. He wanted to be the one who made you cum like this and moan his name, not some demon.Â
âGood girlâŚâ Zayne whispered, standing up and pressing your lips together. His soft lips passionately danced with yours, your tongues quickly crashing against each other. Despite the sexual deviancy that you had grown accustomed to over the past two days, your heart couldnât help but thump against your ribcage as you realized that Father Zayne was your first kiss. It was heated, passionate, and loving. Surely it wasnât as innocent as you had envisioned but, God, did it satisfy you all the same.Â
He pulled away from your lips with nothing but a string of saliva connecting you two. You panted and collapsed against Sylusâ broad chest. Sylus rubbed between your legs, feeling your body jolt at the sudden stimulation.Â
âWeâre not done yet, Kitten. Itâs bad manners to cum without saying thank you.â He gripped your chin and forced you to look up at Zayne, eyes hazy from pleasure.Â
âT-Thank youâŚZayneâŚâ Your voice was soft and pliant, already tired from the intense orgasm.Â
âMmm, good girl. Now donât you think itâs time you return the favor?â Zayne was quick to interject.Â
âNo. She doesnât have to do more than necessary. She needs to rest.âÂ
âNoble words for a man straining the stitches in his trousers.â You couldnât help but follow your eyes down Zayneâs torso and notice the painful erection pressing up against his belt, practically begging to be released. You swallowed hard and moved your hand to your slick folds.Â
âItâs okay Zayne. I want you to feel good too.â You look up at him with sweet doe eyes, your gaze making his heart flip in his chest. He wanted to argue, to whisk you away to his chambers away from Sylus and let you rest butâŚhow could he say no to you begging so nicely?Â
âI will continue, only if you promise to tell me if itâs too much. I do not wish to hurt you.â He cleared his throat. A small smile graced your lips as you nodded.Â
âOkayâŚâ Zayne unbuckled his belt and freed himself from his trousers, his thick, throbbing cock springing free. He wasnât sure if it was because he was in the presence of a sex demon or that you were just that sinfully erotic, but he had never experienced an erection this strong in his life. He quickly positioned himself in between your legs, rubbing the swollen tip against your puffy cunt. He could hardly stifle a groan as he realized just how drenched you were against him. He continued to rock his hips against you, frotting his tip against your already sensitive bud.Â
âPlease ZayneâŚâ You whimpered, pulling him closer to you. âPut it inside, I c-canât wait any longer!â How could he resist a siren call like that? Without a word, he began to push himself inside. Your moans synchronized with his as his cock stretched your tight hole. Once he got the tip in, he stalled waiting for your body to adjust. Though it felt like a test of patience to not push himself fully inside, he would never forgive himself if he hurt you. When he took a vow of chastity he thought he could live without sex, but now he would be a broken man if he died without knowing what it was like to have your walls clench around him.Â
As noble as his intentions were, you were too impatient to appreciate it. You began to rock your hips against his, slowly inching his cock deeper inside of you. âZayne please~! I need your dick as deep as it will go.â You couldnât stop the filth from leaving your mouth. Your body ached and burned for him, you needed that tip to slap against your cervix until you couldnât walk straight.Â
âBut I donât want to h-â Zayne struggled to compose a sentence, too enamored by the heat enveloping his throbbing member.Â
âYou wonât hurt her. Sheâs ready to take your cock, Father. Donât leave her waitingâŚor else I might have to show you how youâre supposed to fuck her.â Sylus prodded at Zayne. He could see the irritation spark on his face and with the jumpstart he needed, he slammed the rest of his cock into you. Your voice cried out as he began to thrust, giving you the unrelenting friction you so desperately needed.Â
âF-Fuck~! YesâŚNnn-yes~!â Your moans warbled out of your throat, your body finally melting into Sylusâ chest. Sylusâ hands never stopped playing with your breasts, teasing and tugging on the tender nubs. He loved watching your breasts bounce with each thrust, it made his own cock stir in his pants. His thick fingers moved to your cunt, and soon he began to shower your tiny bundle of nerves in attention. As Zayne thrusted inside of you, his fingers circled around your overstimulated clit, giving you a dual sensation you couldnât fathom. âOh Gods~! Fuck~!âÂ
âMmmâŚThatâs it, Kitten. Just focus on our touch.â Sylus muttered, planting kisses against your exposed neck. Zayneâs thrusts grew more erratic as he could feel himself edging closer to climax. Any semblance of composure he walked in with was thrown out the window the second his cock was completely engulfed by you. His hands gripped the bedsheets underneath you until his knuckles turned white, tethering himself to this world as he pounded into you. Without either of you realizing it, Sylus had freed his own massive cock, hissing at the cool air brushing against his warm skin. âEase up for a moment, Father. I think itâs fair that I get a turn as well. After all, I brought you two together.âÂ
Zayne glared at Sylus, the displeasure etched deep into his face at the thought of sharing you with him. Even if he was correct, Zayne finally wanted to be selfish for once in his life and wanted to keep you all to himself. Sylus realized he wasnât going to budge and could only chuckle at how much of an open book the priest was.Â
âFine, have it your way.â Sylus nudged the tip of his cock against your already stuffed entrance, knocking you out of your fucked out trance.Â
âW-WaitâŚThereâs no w-way I can fit both of youâŚâ You whined, grabbing onto Sylusâ forearm once again.Â
âTrust me, Kitten. Just take a deep breath for me.â Before you could protest any further, you could feel the tip of his cock pushing into you. Zayne slowed down for a moment and Sylus took this opportunity to pop it inside. Both you and Zayne hissed from the pressure, feeling it in drastically different but equally delicious ways. The extra sensation of feeling full and the slight burn from the stretch made your legs shake and feeling the tip of Sylusâ cock rub against the bottom of his own had Zayne stifling a moan.Â
âY-YouâŚâ Zayne uttered, trying to fight back against this intrusion but couldnât deny how good it felt. He could feel every pulse in your pussy that much better, and the extra stimulation was just a bonus. Once he confirmed there was no pain or discomfort on your face, the tension in his shoulders ease. âForgive me, Sister. I donât know how much longer I can keep myself composed.âÂ
âThen d-donât beâŚâ You whisper, pulling him closer towards you to crash your lips against him. His thrusts resumed after tasting your tongue against his, moving in synchrony with Sylusâ cock. When Zayne thrusted deep inside you, Sylus would wait to push his cock deeper once Zayne pulled back. The constant friction pummelling against your g-spot was a sensation you had never even heard or thought about. It was intoxicating. You moved your hand up from Sylusâ forearm to his hair, gripping it tight in your fist. The action caused him to groan in your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck. Your toes began to curl and your legs began to shake, letting all three of you know just how close you were to reaching your peak.Â
âI-Iâm gonna c-cum~! I canât hold it!â You cried out, volume control long abandoned.Â
âLet go for us, Sister.âÂ
âCum all over our cocks, Sweetie.âÂ
With their encouragement, you finally let go. Your orgasm crashed over you in a deep wave, your body convulsing as your juices squirted onto their cocks. Your cum trickled down Zayneâs stomach and onto Sylusâ thick, muscular thighs. The two men moaned in unison at your pleasure, a shiver running up their spines as you wriggled between them. They both could feel themselves being edged closer and closer to cumming. Zayne buried his face into your shoulder, inhaling your scent as his balls tightened, emptying deep inside of you. Sylus wasnât far behind, his seed flooding your insides and together your combined orgasms dripping down onto the sheets below.Â
Pants filled the air as the three of you rode out your blissful highs. Zayne brushed the stray hairs out of your face before planting soft kisses around your cheek and lips. Sylus complimented his movements, rubbing your thighs and stomach softly while nuzzling against your neck once again. The two men slowly pulled out of you, their cum gushing out from between your thighs leaving a bigger mess that one of you would have to clean up later. For now, you were happy enough to just mingle in the company of their warm bodies.
This was the most delicious meal Sylus had to date, and now that heâs had a taste, heâs hesitant he wants to leave it behind for good. Perhaps he could make an agreement with you two to keep his stomach full and your desires satiated.Â
fanfiction is a rare gem and a solid, living proof that, in a world of tiktok, influencers and content posting, not everything is about money and going viral. art can still be art just for the sake of the artistsâ pure love, joy and passion for the art they create. fanfic writers write 100k words and more about the characters they love for free. just because they love these characters and the art of writing so much. art is not dead and the world is still beautiful.
Growing up, you were close. His father was a knight under the king, your father, and heâd always be in the kitchen helping the maids with whatever they were doing.
Heâd feed you extra snacks. Youâd tell him the royal drama. From childhood, you were inseparable.
But when he turned 13, and you were 12, he vanished to train for knighthood. All you got was a simple note: Iâll see you again, Princess. Yet you never did. You waited and waited for him to return, but he never showed up. You never saw him. Never knew what happened to him.
You heard his father had died and heâd gotten knighted while you were away abroad. You were angry you couldnât make it to his ceremony. That was when you were 15 and he was 16.
Now, at 20 and 21, youâre reunited again under horrible circumstances. Your family and the kingdom has been destroyed, currently burning to a crisp.
Everyone in the palace had died. Everyone in the village was gone. Everyone but you and Zayne.
You looked up at him once more, a feeling of melancholic nostalgia washing over you. You took in the way the flames reflected off his silver armour, his eyes glancing towards the castle ruins through the visor.
His gaze turned to you before you realized you were staring at him. Neither of you spoke, too stunned by the feeling of bittersweet reunion.
He knelt down to your level, his knee guards scraping against the cobblestone. For a second, he bowed his head, then extended his hand to you.
Heâs still a knight, you remembered. Heâs sworn to you, now.
-
AAAAHHHHHH iâm not dead guys i promise đ i apologize for being as active as i promised. school and life and work has really taken a toll on me (first semester of uni, amiright?!)
anywaysssss, would people be into reading something like this?! itâs been festering in my mind for quite some time now and inspiration has only boosted with the knight x princess trend on tiktokâŚ
please please PLEASE tell me your thoughts on this⌠i crave validation and human connection so badâŚ.
UPDATE: sheâs officially in the planning stage!! stay tuned for updatesâŚ.
Good morning, dear,Â
Or rather, it would be, if my wife so much as looked in my direction this morning. Instead, I find myself writing to you like some forgotten soul behind enemy lines, using this means of communication as if I am but a mere stranger begging for a moment of your time. It is humiliating. Your refusal to hear your husband out is noted and begrudgingly endured but I forgive you (see? It is not so hard at all).Â
Please just answer your messages. We have a data plan for a reason.Â
Love, always,Â
Your Kento
Hello Kento,Â
I hope you are well.Â
Please refrain from contacting me via my work email. It is inappropriate and annoyingly endearing. Let me be mad in peace. Thank you.Â
Best wishes,Â
Your Wife
Hello to you too, sweetheart,
I must admit your response is both upsetting and encouraging. Truthfully, I wasn't expecting you to respond at all. Of course, I wish your email was more welcoming but beggars and whatnot.
What must I do, my love?
I have apologised. Not once or twice, but countless times. So many times now it feels like âIâm so sorryâ were my first words. I rose early to prepare your favourite breakfast â drove clear across the city to find the precise ingredients (you and I both know there is only one acceptable brand of jam in this household). I plated it neatly, included a smiley face, just as you like it, though, I observed, it was met with a frown, thus defeating the spirit of these things.Â
Your work clothes were laid out, ironed with care and to perfection, if I may say so myself. I made sure the heating was on well before you awoke, so the chill wouldnât bother you so â Iâve seen how cold mornings test yourâŚpatience, should we say. Your lunch was packed and ready, with a handwritten note tucked inside, although Iâm sure you carelessly tossed it aside in your bid to destroy my will to live on a spiritual level. It was a new recipe, by the way. I hope it suits your taste. Do let me know. Perhaps by softening your glare when you arrive home since apparently smiles are beneath you.
Even last night, I relinquished the duvet entirely â though I must admit, it was less an offering and more a tactical surrender after you ripped it from my body without mercy. I woke up frozen, on the brink of pneumonia. Need I remind you, I am at a tender age?Â
And after all of thatâŚ
You walked past me.
Not a word.
Not even a glance.
You washed the dishes (which is, and I cannot stress this enough, my responsibility), and shoved my work clothes off the bed because â what was it? The sleeve was âencroachingâ upon your own and the cotton needed space because âhusband air is toxic?â
That was particularly hurtful. Entirely uncalled for. My blazer may never recover.
Still, I could take it. I could take all of it. Because I admit my fault and I recognise my need to be punished.
But to leave without kissing me goodbye?
That, my love, was unconscionable.
A line crossed. A declaration of war. An admittance of lesser character. I am disappointed in you. Thus, I now join your unrelenting form on the S.S. Marital Displeasure. Letâs see how we fare at sea, together.
Yours, unwaveringly,
Kentoâ the husband you once swore never to abandon
P.S. Dinner is on me tonight. Please let me know what time youâll be home.
P.P.S. You looked radiant this morning. Even in silence. Even in a mood. Youâre still the most beautiful thing in the room.
Kento,Â
You infuriatingly adorable man.
All those things you listed about this morning are things you do everyday. I know that was supposed to guilt trip me, but that just annoyed me more cause I get it â youâre totally perfect and handsome and tall and you smell nice. Ugh, youâre the worst.
Lunch was yummy, by the way. Ten out of ten. The note, which I didnât carelessly throw away mind you (that was very rude to assume, how dare you) telling me âyou are loved even when youâre grumpyâ was not. I am not grumpy, Kento. I am aggrieved.Â
You have aggrieved me.Â
Also, donât try to guilt trip me about the cover hogging. You run hot and you know we have a spare duvet in the closet. Many times now, I've begged you to take it because I know I have bad sleeping habits BUT you refused. You said, need I remind you, that you insist on sharing one to be as close to me as possible. Your words.Â
The work clothes thing was an accident. I didnât mean to push it off, and I was trying to stay mad so I made up some lie. Tell your blazer Iâm sorry. Tell its owner I will never forgive nor forget. You know what you did.Â
And I donât want you to join my ship. We canât both be on it. Weâll sinkâŚdamn thatâs metaphorical. For your own good, get off now whilst you still can.Â
Lukewarm wishes,Â
Your Wife
P.S. Iâll be home later than you, I have some things to finish
P.S. There was only one other person in the room and that was you, and even then you were clearly the more beautiful one Mr. Wakes Up With A Five OâClock Shadow And Silky Golden Locks. That pissed me off so much more. Try to be less perfect, thank you.
My dearest,
Iâve read your message precisely three times and still, Iâm not entirely sure whether Iâve been forgiven or sentenced. However, I feel a sense of optimism, foolish or not.Â
Let me begin with your opening line: âinfuriatingly adorableââ it is not quite a compliment but I accept it with caution regardless. I am adorable and I understand that you wish I wasnât. As soon as possible, I will find a cure.
Moreover, in reference to my morning route, youâre right, of course. The tasks I listed are things I do every day. Not as some grand gesture, but because loving you â actively, attentively, without pause â is part of my daily routine. Like ironing my shirts or making my coffee. Itâs muscle memory now. If I were to stop, I fear I might just malfunction and catch fire. That said, if you are aggrieved â not grumpy, as I so mistakenly suggested, please forgive me for that tooâ then I humbly bow to your deliverance, Lady Justice. Though I maintain that the distinction is rather blurry when youâre stomping past me with furrowed brows and lips pressed into a line sharp enough to cut marble, lips I dare say I wish I could kiss into their usual form.
Regarding the duvet â yes, I recall saying that. I stand by it. Even if I must freeze to death one night beneath your siege of unconscious theft, I would still rather reach out and find you beside me than not. You will indubitably note that that was unnecessarily dark, Iâm sure, and youâll then make a comment about the phase we shall not talk about that I went through in my youth.
Further, the blazer has accepted your apology. It insists you take it off me tonight. Is that too forward? You usually love when Iâm forward but I worry this will only enrage you more, likely in a way that will leave me dangerously sore. Perhaps that is what I intend. I cannot tell anymore. I just miss your touch.
As for the note, I didnât assume you threw it away. I merely feared it. I know you well enough to know that even when youâre furious, youâre still gentle with the things I give you. Itâs one of those things you do that melt my heart.
Your ship â this solitary vessel of marital vengeance â sounds lonely. It is precisely that reason however that I must stay aboard, respectfully.
With all my love,
Kento â your infuriatingly tall, overly warm, occasionally smug but entirely yours husband
P.S. Iâll have dinner ready by the time youâre home.
P.P.S. I will attempt to be less perfect, though I make no promises. Iâve spent years mastering my five oâclock shadow, it practically comes in on its own when it senses youâre at your most vulnerable. As for my silk, golden locks, I owe that to you and your hair mask. Thank you.
Kento.
Iâve read your message. Twice. Once dramatically, on break. Once again, aloud, with emphasis, so the plants in my office could also judge you. And I must say...
The audacity. The calm. The poetry. The charm.
Ugh. Disgusting. I hate how you win arguments by being emotionally intelligent and devastatingly eloquent. Stop.
Also, your blazer is so dramatic. I was always going to take it off you, that was never in question. And yes, I love when you're forward. I loved it just now. Reminds me of that time we snuck off into the janitor's closet and...
Moving on.
I will admit (reluctantly) that your words were very lovely, they usually are, and the image of you freezing like a noble idiot because you'd rather suffer than part from me for even a life-saving second was both tragic and romantic and exactly the kind of behaviour that makes staying mad at you basically impossible. I hate that for me.
But fine. F I N E.
You may stay aboard my metaphorical ship, provided you bring snacks and acknowledge that I am the captain and youâre just here for deck-swabbing privileges and forehead kisses. Youâll be handsomely rewarded ;)
Love,
Your Wife
(Still aggrieved. But slightly less so. Like⌠69% less.)
P.S. If youâre trying to seduce me via dinner, itâs working. You might get that kiss. Or two. Depends how good it is.
Dear YN and Nanami Kento,Â
I hope you are both well.Â
Do forgive me for intruding me but, as Head of HR and as your friend, I feel a need to remind you both that you are liaising using your work emails which are monitored by HR. Resolving marital disputes on company hours and company mail is not recommended nor permitted. Please set this aside for when you get home. I also wish to remind you that your offices are a short distance from each other. There doesnât seem to be a need to be communicating via emails at all. From my desk, I have been watching you two write your emails with smiles on your faces.Â
I suspect neither of you are mad at each other at all. So, YN, please just forgive him already. He hasnât done much work all day, whereas your productivity has increased. We should probably hold a meeting to discuss both changes. I am concerned.Â
Lastly, your fight is distracting everyone. One colleague described it as âfunny,â another âsweet,â and someone else called it âforeplay.â Iâm sure you understand why exactly I intervened. You are both already on two strikes. Please don't make me remind you of what exactly what happened the last two times. The company is still paying for therapy sessions for the affected employees.
Do better.Â
Best wishes,Â
Ijichi Kiyotaka
P.S. Why were you even mad? Did he forget an anniversary? Comment on your weight?
Dear Kento,
Did not realise the whole office was invested in this. No wonder the intern was giving me a look and Sharon from IT told me that she and her husband also fight like this to âspice upâ their love life, and that its best when the husband gets mad too. TMI but appreciated. Are you even capable of getting mad at me?
Well, anyway, you heard the man. Letâs continue this conversation at home.Â
And Ijichi, I know youâre reading this, you Peeping Tom. I hope you know weâre going to make sweet, dirty love tonight. All night. Bring this up to the Big Boss, I dare you. I know you havenât forgotten the huge favour you owe me for beating Gojo up when he needlessly sent you on errands around the city. Please stand up for yourself. Do better, as you say.
Kento, letâs go home together tonight. I need to apologise to your blazer as soon as possible and to catch up on kisses expeditiously. In fact, expect a knock on your office door.Â
Love,Â
Your wife
Dear wife and Peeping Tom colleague,
You have no appreciation for the work I put in to get back into my wife's good graces. All your disclaimers about simply doing your job were clearly written in deceit since your gossiping self could not resist prying. Do not think I haven't overheard you collecting bets on why she was mad at me in the break room.
Please expect Gojo's presence in your office with some new, overbearing task soon.
You're welcome.
Worst wishes (to Ijichi),
Nanami Kento
And nothing but love (to my wife),
Ken
Ken,
You're so hot when you're all assertive. Wanna get strike three? Preferably in your office, on your desk?
Gojo can distract everyone for an hour...or two.
Lust,
Your Wife
Dear Nanami, YN, and my favourite Peeping Tom,
This is what happens in the office?
Wow, maybe I should get a desk job (lol that's probably what Nanami's getting right now, lucky guy)
Can't believe I was slaving away, keeping the world safe, and you two were slacking off and getting it on. I'm expecting a baby Nanami soon. Make me the godfather pls pls pls
Stay sexy,
The Strongest
P.S. Can I watch? Iâm kiddingâŚunless?
sneak peek at the nanami fic iâm working on! (kind of a part two to this)
cw: pregnant!reader, foreplay. sorta nsfw, so 18+ mdni.
-
week twenty-seven: you initiated sex with kento.
it started innocently enough, few kisses that turned heated, a hand on his thigh, the other running up his chest and through his hair. one thing lead to another, and the movie on the tv was long forgotten.
straddling his lap, legs on either side of his, your hands tugged at the collar of his shirt. his lips met your neck, teasing, playful, and you were a goner.
âken,â you mewled softly. grabbing a fistful of hair, you tugged tenderly, looking down into his eyes. âneed you, please,â
his hands fidgeted with the hem of your shirt (which was one of his, since they fit better than yours). âi donât know if thatâs a good idea, honey.â he looked down at your stomach, placing a hand on it and rubbing his thumb back and forth. âdonât wanna hurt the babyâŚâ
if you werenât feeling so horny, your heart would explode.
âkento,â you voice was sharper than you intended, âitâs been so long.â ever since you started obviously showing, he hadnât fucked you properly. always settled on fingering you or eating you out. âitâs the size of a cauliflower. itâll be fine.â
âbut-â
you rolled you hips against his with a whine, tugging at his shirt again. âplease!â
it was obvious from his hardness he wanted it too. finally, with a long exhale, he nodded.
âokay.â his hands found your waist, âyouâre on top, though.â
the text came in the middle of the day, zayneâs phone buzzing with a soft ding!
âsorry,â he apologized to the patient he was with, quickly checking his phone and then putting it away. making a mental note to reply to the text afterwards, he continued with the appointment.
once his patient had left, he pulled out his phone once more. itâs just another movie, he thought. why the warning? the girls would sit on the floor in front of the tv (no matter how many time heâd tell them to sit further back) and youâd be curled up against his side. just another normal, family movie night.
âcould you get some takeout too please? đâ
a smile crept into his face as he fondly shook his head, replying to your text in an instant.
âYes.â
when he arrived home, takeout bags in hand, he was greeted at the door by his adoring wife and two daughters. like the wonderful wife you were, you kissed his cheek and took his coat off his shoulders, hanging it up before taking the bags of food from his hands.
âdaddy!â one of your girls, the older one, reached her arms up towards him. she grabbed at the air, signalling she wants to be picked up.
the younger one came waddling after her, mimicking her older sister. âdada!â
zayne smiledâsomething that became more common after having kidsâand leaned down to be at their level.
you watched the entire interaction from the kitchen, recording everything with your phone.
âhi girls,â zayne spoke softly. the younger girl jumped towards her father, throwing her hands around his neck. he picked both of them up, one of each arm, and kissed their cheeks.
eventually, the girls sat in front of the tv and ate their chicken nuggets and fries, watching the intro to frozen with wide-eyed curiosity and excitement. you and zayne sat snuggled on the couch, legs tangled beneath a shared blanket and fingertips brushing in the popcorn bowl.
movie night was going smoothly. the girls laughed and giggled, finishing their dinner in a hurry so they could munch on some popcorn too.
when elsa started singing âlet it goâ, the younger of the two girls turned her head around to her dad.
âdad, is elsa your sister?â
âno she canât be, or else dadâs parents would be dead.â the older one responded, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
âoh.â she paused, thinking thoughtfully for a moment. âis she your cousin?â
you hid your giggle, covering the lower half of your face with a blanket. zayneâs face was priceless, mouth slightly opening and closing as he thought of what to say.
âno,â he started, sounding hesitant, but not wanting to break their hearts by telling them elsa and anna arenât real. âelsa and i are not related.â
âbut you have the same ice powers!â
âdad, can you make olaf too?â
zayneâs eyes flickered over to you, and upon seeing the gleefulness in them, he understood why you warned him about the girls wanting to watch frozen.
âŚand it made his heart feel just a little fuller.
-
a/n: apologies about the unexpected hiatus. i just graduated high school! hoping to set aside more time to write during the summer đ¤
synopsis : He wasnât supposed to fall for you. Not with the kind of work you didâwork that made men like him keep their distance.
content : hostess!mc/reader, not fluff but not quite angst either, romance yes
now playing : Old Love - Yuji, putri dahlia
He didnât mean to fall for you.
Not for the way your smile slipped out when you thought no one was watchingâsoft, secret, curling up into your eyes like something you forgot to hide.
Not for the way your face lit up when you tasted something sweet, like joy was simple and heâd only just remembered what it looked like.
And definitely not for your laughterâgod, your laughterâthat didnât belong in a place like this. It rang out clean, bright. Untouched.
He wasnât supposed to fall.
Not with the kind of work you didâwork that made men like him keep their distance.
Not when heâd built his life on lines he didnât cross, rules he didnât bend.
Not when he wasnât even meant to be there that nightâstuffed into a booth at the club, dragged out by Greyson for a birthday he hadnât wanted to celebrate.
But you were there.
And suddenlyâso was he.
Zayne had watched you that whole night.
Not on purposeânot at first. But his eyes kept drifting, finding you in every pause, every lull in conversation.
The soft sway of your hair with each step, like it had a rhythm all its own.
The way you poured wine without spilling a dropâelegant, effortless. Like this wasnât just a job, but a craft youâd made your own.
In the low, moody glow of the club, you looked untouchable.
As if you didnât belong to this place at all, but moved through itâlike smoke, or something not quite real.
He watched. Quietly.
Careful not to let it showânot in his face, not in the way he sat rigid, fingers curled tight into his coat.
But god, he was mesmerised.
Fully. Completely.
And he hadnât even touched you yet.
Greyson stumbled out first, the rest of the group trailing behind in a blur of laughter, apologies, and half-hearted goodbyes.
Then it was just you and Zayne.
He didnât move. Didnât look like he intended to.
So you tilted your head toward the barâwordlessâand walked.
He followed.
You sat him down and ordered a slice of cheesecake. The best one on the menu.
He didnât ask why. Just picked up the fork and took a bite.
And thatâs when it happened.
You laughed at somethingâsmall, probably stupidâbut it slipped out before you could catch it. Light. Unfiltered.
Zayne went still beside you.
Completely still.
He hadnât expected it. Not here. Not from you.
But godâit did something to him.
The kind of thing he didnât have words for.
Not yet.
âYou were so obedient,â you tease, licking your popsicle with an exaggerated wink as you glance up at him.
Zayne walks quietly beside you, milk tea in hand, eyes never on the pavementâalways on you.
These walks had become routine now. Late-night dessert runs. After-shift drives.
Little rituals that started the night heâd stayed longer than he meant to⌠said more than he probably should have.
You remember it clearly. The way heâd asked to stay in touch.
Youâjust tipsy enough, basking in the slow glow of his attentionâhad leaned in with a grin and handed over your number.
It started small.
Heâd show up during your shifts. Never making a scene, just watching. Waiting.
And when your night ended, heâd walk you to his car. Drive you home. Never asked for anything.
Then one evening, heâd asked if he could take you out. Just dessert.
You remember sliding into the passenger seat, laughing as you buckled in.
âYouâre the first guy whoâs ever taken me out for something other than sex,â youâd saidâhalf a joke, half confession.
You hadnât expected the way his face shifted. The quiet ache in his eyes.
His hands moved slower then, gentler, as he reached across you to pull the seatbelt into place.
The softness of it caught you off guard. Made your breath stutter.
âThen Iâll be the only guy from now on,â he said.
You laughed, brushed it offâplayful, easy.
But your heart had already betrayed you.
And now?
Now, seeing you had become part of his routine. His rhythm.
Before your shift. After.
If you so much as texted craving something sweet, heâd show up with itâno questions, no hesitation.
He didnât say much. Never asked for more.
But the way he looked at you?
He was starting to realiseâhe needed you more than he wanted to admit.
You both slowed as the club came into view, neon lights casting soft blue against the pavement.
You turned to him, that familiar grin on your lips. Playful. Easy. âThis is it. Iâm going now.â
He gave a small nod, hands tucked deep in his coat pockets. âI wonât be able to pick you up tonight,â he said, voice lower than usual.
You waved him off. âItâs okay. I know youâve got a long shift.â
A step back. Still smiling. âI can take care of myself, you know.â
His gaze softenedâbarely, but you caught it.
The crease between his brows smoothed, and for a heartbeat, he just looked at you.
Like you were something fragile in a world too sharp. Something he didnât quite know how to protectâŚ
But wanted to.
âI know,â he said.
But what he didnât sayânot out loudâwas that he wished you didnât have to.
He stayed there, watching as you disappeared into the club, swallowed by low lights and velvet curtains.
Only when the door clicked shut behind you did he finally turn and head for his car.
Sliding into the driverâs seat, he exhaled slowly.
His palms itched against the steering wheel. His collar felt too tight.
He shouldnât be thinking about you like this.
But god, the image of you clung to him.
The way your head tilted when you teased. The spark in your eyes. The curve of your smile like you knew exactly what you were doing.
That dressâbarely skimming your thighs.
The way you walked. The way you moved in those heels like the world owed you its attention.
He leaned back, closed his eyes.
Let out a quiet, frustrated breath.
You were driving him mad.
And the worst part?
You didnât even know it.
ââ˘
The hospital hums with beeping monitors and rolling carts, a constant background chorus of machinery and footsteps.
Zayne moves through it all on autopilotâwriting reports on whiteboards, checking charts, letting children place sticker crowns on his shoulder as he makes his rounds.
Then comes a thought.
Sharp. Uninvited.
What would your children look like?
And thenâdid you even like children?
He chokes on his own spit, coughing into his fist.
âYou good, doctor?â Greyson appears beside him, giving his back a firm pat.
Zayne raises a hand, nodding as he swallows down the last of the cough.
âYes. Iâm fine,â he says after a beat, voice tight but steady.
Greyson studies him a second longer before shrugging and moving on, clipboard tucked beneath his arm.
Zayne exhales, adjusting the stethoscope around his neck like it might steady him. But the thought lingers.
Youâholding a toddler. Your laugh mixing with theirs. Something soft, impossible. A vision from a life he had no business imagining.
He drags a hand down his face.
Itâs stupid.
Heâs never even seen you in daylight.
He forces his focus to the next room. To the patient. To anything else.
A little girl with tangled hair and smudges of marker on her arms beams at him as he walks in. Her grin is gap-toothed and infectious.
âDr. Zayne!â she calls.
âHey, princess,â he says, masking the shake in his chest with a practiced smile. âDid you draw me something today?â
She holds up a pageâstick figures under a rainbow. Or maybe an explosion. He canât tell.
âThat oneâs you,â she says, pointing to the tallest figure with absurdly long arms.
Zayne crouches beside her bed, taking the drawing like it might fall apart in his hands.
âAnd whoâs this?â he asks, tapping the smaller figure beside himâbig eyes, a dress, a smile that somehow feels too familiar.
She shrugs. âI dunno. Maybe your wife.â
He freezes.
Just for a second.
Long enough for the air to shift.
Long enough for the thought to wedge itself deeper.
Maybe.
âMaybe,â he says softly, folding the paper and slipping it into his coat pocket.
Her monitor beeps steadily. His heart doesnât.
He finishes his rounds on muscle memoryâhallways blurring past, fluorescent lights feeling too bright, too white.
By the time he makes it to the parking lot, the sunâs slipping behind the buildings.
He leans against his car, pulls out his phone. Opens a message thread.
âCraving anything sweet tonight?â
He stares at the words.
Deletes them.
Types again.
âAre you okay?â
No.
Backspace. Gone.
He locks the screen and exhales, head tipping back, eyes closed against the fading sky.
God, what were you doing to him?
Over at the club, the shift drags.
The music is louder than usual, the crowd drunker, the tips smaller. Youâre on your feet for hours, smile painted on and cracking at the edges.
Someone spills a drink on your tray. Another tries to grab your waist like youâre part of the decor. You laugh it offâpolite, effortless. Like always.
But tonight, it wears on you more than usual.
Maybe itâs the ache in your legs.
Maybe itâs the fact that heâs not here.
He usually is. Somewhere in the corner, tucked into a booth, quiet and watching like heâs memorising the shape of you.
But not tonight.
You told him it was fine. That you didnât need looking after.
You meant it. Mostly.
Still, when you glance at your phone between tables, you find yourself hoping for something.
A text. A dumb dessert joke. A âyou good?â
Something.
Nothing.
You wipe down the counter harder than necessary, forcing a breath through your nose.
Donât be needy.
Donât get used to kindness that was never promised.
The club lights shiftâpurple to red, red to goldâand your head throbs with it. You duck into the back for a break, slipping behind the staff door and leaning against the cool wall.
You check your phone again.
Still nothing.
You open his name. Type.
âBusy shift?â
Pause. Backspace.
âI didnât see you. Everything okay?â
Backspace.
You sigh, thumb hovering.
Instead, you swipe up and lock the screen.
Shove the phone into your pocket like itâs heavy.
Because the truth is, youâre not used to missing people. Youâve made an art out of not needing anyone.
But Zayne?
Zayne is making you forget the rules you built around your own heart.
And thatâs dangerous.
You shove the phone deeper into your apron pocket and push off the wall, heading back out into the club.
The music swallows you whole againâbass thudding against your ribs like a second heartbeat.
You move on instinct, clearing glasses, flashing smiles, pretending you belong in a place that feels more like a cage with every passing night.
But your mind drifts.
It always does when youâre tired. When you let your guard down even a little.
You remember the first time you walked into a place like this.
Not because you wanted to.
Because you had to.
The debt collector had been polite, at least. Smiling when he explained it in simple words your mother couldnât quite grasp, not through the painkillers and the hospital bills.
Smiling when he leaned back in his chair and said, âItâs simple. A few nights a week. Some tips, some cash under the table. Youâll make a dent in whatâs owed.â
Like it was nothing.
Like it was normal.
And maybe it is, for girls like you.
Girls who grew up learning that being pretty was a currency, that being polite was a shield, that survival sometimes meant smiling even when you wanted to scream.
You hadnât screamed.
Youâd just nodded.
And now here you are. Still smiling. Still surviving.
Some nights itâs almost easy. Some nights you almost forget.
But not tonight.
Tonight, you feel every compromise pressed against your skin. Every choice you didnât really get to make.
And for the first time in a long time, you wish someone would notice.
You wish someone would see past the gloss and the grin and the practiced tilt of your head.
Someone like him.
Zayne.
You shake the thought off, slipping between tables with mechanical grace.
You donât have time for stupid things like hope.
Hope gets you reckless.
Hope gets you hurt.
You know better by now.
You wipe down the counter one more time, even though itâs already clean, just for something to do with your hands.
And when your break finally rolls around, you duck back into the staff hallway, sink onto the bench, and let your head fall back against the wall.
Your phone buzzes.
Your heart jumpsâtoo fast, too hopeful.
But itâs just a shift schedule update.
You let the screen dim without reading it.
And in the hollow quiet between songs, you whisper the one thing youâll never say out loud.
âI miss you.â
ââ˘
It was supposed to be a forgettable night.
Just one drink. A quick in-and-out for Greysonâs birthday. He hadnât even planned to stay past the first round.
But then the music shifted. The crowd parted.
And there you were.
You moved through the club like it didnât touch you. Like the noise and heat and heavy stares slid right off your skin.
Your tray was balanced with casual precision, your smile a half-formed thing you only gave to customers who tipped well.
But it wasnât your smile that caught him.
It was the quiet.
There was a stillness in you, even in motion.
Something practiced. Controlled.
Like youâd learned how to be looked at without being seen.
He knew the look. Knew the posture.
It was armor.
You stopped at a nearby table, set down a round of drinks. A man reached for your wristâtoo familiar, too fast.
Zayne tensed.
But you stepped back smoothly, smile never slipping, voice light as sugar as you said something he couldnât hear.
Whatever it was, it worked. The man laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender.
You walked away untouched.
But he didnât.
He was still sitting there, heart beating faster than it shouldâve, watching the place youâd just been.
It shouldâve ended there.
Just a glance. Just a moment. Just a beautiful woman in a too-loud club, doing her job.
But then you passed his table. You didnât look at himâbut he looked at you.
And for the briefest secondâhalf a breath, maybeâyou brushed a hand across your hip.
A nervous tic. A flicker of discomfort.
Gone just as fast.
But he saw it.
And it stayed.
Even after Greyson had one too many and spilled whiskey on his sleeve. Even after the group peeled off into the night, loud and laughing.
Even after he shouldâve left, shouldâve gone home, shouldâve forgotten you.
He stayed.
He sat in that booth long after his reason for being there had disappeared.
Because of you.
Not your smile. Not your body.
But that flicker.
That moment when your guard cracked.
That was the night it started.
The night you became more than a passing glance.
More than a pretty girl in a loud room.
You became a question he couldnât stop asking.
The drawing is still in his coat pocket.
He hasnât taken it out, hasnât looked at it againâbut he knows itâs there.
Knows the crayon lines are probably smudged now from how many times heâs slipped his hand over that spot, just to feel the weight of it.
The thought of you still hasnât left him. Not since the hospital. Not since the half-typed texts in the parking lot.
He told himself heâd leave it alone.
Give you space. Give himself time.
Be smart.
But smart doesnât feel the way you do when you laugh.
Itâs nearly midnight now.
The hospital is quiet, fluorescent lights dimmed, halls echoing with tired footsteps and vending machine hums.
He should go home. Sleep. Reset.
Instead, he leans against the break room counter, thumb hovering over your name in his phone.
Thereâs a long pause before he types.
Just one line.
'Still working?'
He stares at it.
Itâs too casual. Too easy.
But he sends it anyway.
And for a minute, he regrets it. Instantly. Completely.
Wonders if youâll ignore it.
If heâs overstepped. If heâs made the wrong move again.
But then, three blinking dots.
You reply.
'Yeah. Almost done. You okay?'
He exhales, his shoulders dropping just slightly as he types, slower this time.
'I had a rough day. Thought about cheesecake.'
He thinks for moment. Thenâ
'You free after?'
You donât tell him yes.
You just send a location.
A late-night diner tucked behind a gas station on the edge of downtown. The kind of place that smells like burnt coffee and fried things, with flickering neon signs and booths that have seen too much.
You get there first and slide into a corner booth, tired and still half in uniform, the faint shimmer of the club lights still clinging to your skin.
You order coffee you wonât drink and a slice of pie you donât really want, just to have something on the table.
You check your phone twice.
He walks in just as the server sets down your plate. His coat is still on, hospital badge clipped to the pocket, hair mussed like heâs been running his hands through it all night.
He spots you instantly. Doesnât smile.
But his eyes do something soft. Something wrecked.
Zayne slides into the booth across from you.
You study him for a second.
He looks tired. Paler than usual. Thereâs a crease between his brows like somethingâs still pressing on him.
âYou okay?â you ask, voice low.
He nods.
Then shakes his head.
âI donât know,â he admits.
Itâs the first honest thing heâs said all day.
You push the plate toward him without a word.
He doesnât hesitate. Picks up the fork. Takes a bite.
Silence stretches, but itâs not the kind that hurts. Itâs the kind that feels⌠mutual. Like youâre both resting in it. Like your bodies are tired of pretending.
Zayne sets the fork down slowly, eyes still on the pie.
Then, âI thought about you all day.â
You blink.
Itâs not like him. Not like this.
He keeps going, quietly.
âAt work. During rounds. Between rooms. I couldnât stop. It wasâŚâ He trails off, shaking his head. âIt was too much.â
You donât say anything. You donât have to.
Your heart is loud enough inside your chest to answer for you.
He finally looks up. Meets your eyes.
âI donât know what this is,â he says. âBut I keep coming back to it.â
To you.
You lean back against the booth, eyes soft, mouth tugging into the faintest smile.
âI didnât ask you to.â
âI know.â
âBut you did anyway.â
He nods.
You stir your coffee. Take a slow sip. Itâs gone cold.
âMaybe Iâm bad for you,â you say. Itâs not flirtation. Itâs a warning.
âI think we both already knew that.â
And stillâneither of you moves to leave.
The pie sits between you, half-finished. The lights buzz above your heads. Somewhere, a jukebox plays a song neither of you recognise.
And under the table, your knees brush.
Just slightly.
But neither of you pulls away.
You donât move your knee. Neither does he.
The contact is small, meaningless to anyone else. But for you, it feels like a crack in the dam. Like if one of you shifts just a little further, it might all come pouring out.
Zayneâs fingers curl on the edge of his plate. Not tight, just steadying. Like heâs holding himself in place.
Your gaze drops to his hand.
Then rises back to his face.
âI used to come here a lot,â you say, voice low, mostly to fill the space. âAfter work. When I first started at the club.â
He glances up, waiting.
âMy feet would hurt, and Iâd smell like vodka and desperation, and Iâd sit in that corner over thereââ you nod toward the back booth ââand pretend I was someone else.â
Thereâs a pause. A long one.
Then Zayne speaks, softer than before. âDid it work?â
You shake your head. âNot really. But for ten minutes, with a slice of pie and no one looking at me like I was for sale⌠it helped.â
Something flickers in his eyes. Anger, maybe. Or helplessness.
But all he says is, âI hate that thatâs the world you live in.â
You offer a small smile that doesnât quite reach your eyes, âItâs just the world.â
Another silence. Comfortable. Heavy.
Zayne shifts slightly, resting his elbow on the table, hand open between you.
Itâs not an invitation. Not exactly.
But itâs there.
You look at it. Then at him.
Slowlyâso slowlyâyou reach across the table and lay your hand in his. Fingertips first. Like a question.
His fingers close around yours cold, but careful.
For a while, neither of you speak.
You just sit there, two tired souls in a fluorescent-lit booth at the edge of the world, holding onto something small and quiet, real.
For the first time in what feels like forever, you donât feel like youâre performing.
And when he finally walks you to your apartment door, he doesnât try to kiss you.
He just stands outside your door, waits for you to get in, and waits for you to close it.
You give him a shy smile, âI still donât know what this is.â
He meets your eyes.
âMe neither.â
And thenâfinallyâa smile. Faint, a little broken, but honest.
âGood night,â he says.
You smile and nod, closing the door. His touch still lingered on your hand.
And for once, you donât feel like running from it.
The city is still stretching when you wake.
Sunlight spills in slanted lines across your bed, catching the shimmer of your discarded heels by the door.
Youâre not usually awake this earlyânot without a shift dragging you from bedâbut this morning, you are.
Because you didnât sleep much.
Because your hand still remembers the shape of his.
You roll over and check your phone. No new messages.
Just the one from last night, still sitting there like an afterthought, like a thread you could pull on if you wanted to:
âYou free after?â
Your lips tug into the smallest smile. You donât reply. Not yet.
You press the phone to your chest and let the silence settle around youânot heavy this time, but calm.
Itâs been a long time since quiet felt like anything other than loneliness.
You pull on a hoodie and wander into the kitchen barefoot. Make toast you donât eat. Brew coffee you forget about.
The apartment is still. Safe. Yours.
And for the first time in weeks, you donât feel the need to be anywhere else.
He doesnât sleep either.
The couch is stiff. The apartment too quiet. He keeps the TV on low just for the illusion of company.
But itâs you heâs thinking about.
The way your fingers curled into his like it wasnât a question. The sound of your voice when you told him about sitting in that corner booth like you were trying to disappear.
It gutted him.
Not because you were broken.
But because youâd learned to live like it was normal.
He wants to text you. Something small. Something stupid.
âDid you ever actually eat that pie?â
He doesnât.
Instead, he lets himself lie back, eyes half-closed, and replay the moment your hand touched his across the table. Not rushed. Not reckless.
Just⌠soft.
And thatâs the problem.
Youâre not a mistake he made one night.
Youâre something quiet and persistent.
Like a pulse beneath the skin.
Something that makes him feel aliveâand that terrifies him.
He sits up. Rubs a hand over his face.
Maybe he shouldnât see you today.
But he knows he will.
Your shift doesnât start for hours. No need to rush.
So you let the water run hotter than usual, stand still beneath it, eyes closed, as if the heat could erase the noise from last nightâthe bodies, the stares, the constant wanting.
But itâs not the club that lingers.
Itâs him.
Zayne.
The quiet way his hand found yours, careful, like he was holding something fragile.
The way he didnât kiss youânot out of disinterest, but something that felt like reverence. Like restraint was his language for care.
And thatâs what unsettles you most.
Because youâve known touch that took.
Words that smiled while hands closed in.
People who made affection feel like a transaction.
But Zayne doesnât take.
He waits.
And itâs that waiting thatâs dangerous. The kind that makes you want to give something away, without being asked.
You catch your reflection in the fogged mirror.
For a second, itâs easy to imagine his fingers along your jawâsoft, not searching. Just⌠there. Present.
Thatâs where the ache begins.
Not in your bodyâbut somewhere deeper. Somewhere you thought youâd sealed off for good.
You brace your hands on the sink, exhale slow.
Donât get used to it.
Softness is expensive. And youâve already paid more than enough.
Later, when youâre stepping out the door, your hand moves on instinct.
Phone. Screen. Empty.
Still no message.
You donât know if thatâs better or worse.
You type anyway.
âLast night was nice.â
Four small words. Quiet things.
You hover for a beat too long.
Then send them.
And tuck the phone away before your doubt catches up.
He doesnât plan to see you.
Not really.
He just ends up outside the club around the time you usually show. A coincidence, maybe.
A lie he tells himself because itâs easier than admitting the truth.
You spot him before he sees youâleaning against the hood of his car, hands tucked into his coat pockets, the city casting him in gold and shadow.
You canât help the way your mouth curves. Barely. Just a flicker of something soft.
You cross the sidewalk slow, hands buried in your jacket.
âYou stalking me now?â you ask.
âMaybe,â he says, like it doesnât matter either way.
You lift a brow. âYouâre not even gonna deny it?â
Zayne shrugs. One corner of his mouth tugs up, tired and honest.
âDidnât feel like lying today.â
The quiet stretches between you. Not awkward. Not quite.
Then, quieterâ
âI donât have to be in for another twenty.â
He nods toward the passenger seat.
You open the door and get in.
Neither of you speaks much.
The windows are down. The wind moves through the car like itâs trying to carry something awayâyour thoughts, maybe. The fear. The wanting.
He doesnât ask where you want to go. He just drives.
Like the road is the only thing that makes sense.
Like proximity is enough.
You sit curled sideways in the seat, arm propped against the window, eyes half-lidded, watching the city slip by in streaks of light and blur.
You glance at him. Study his profile.
âI donât get it,â you murmur.
He doesnât look over. âGet what?â
âYou. This.â
A vague gesture between youâfragile and undefined.
âYouâre good,â you say. âClean. You donât belong in my world.â
He doesnât answer right away.
Just presses his mouth into a line and turns off onto a narrow road. Trees rising on either side, the city falling behind.
When he stops, itâs at a quiet overlookânothing but sky and the glitter of far-off buildings.
He shifts into park. Kills the engine. Everything goes still.
Then he turns to you, slow.
âYou think Iâm clean?â he asks. Not mocking. Just⌠tired.
You study him now. Really study him.
The faint stubble. The lines beneath his eyes. The way his shoulders slope under invisible weight.
âNo,â you say. âNot now.â
A beat.
âBut you make me feel like I could be.â
His hand movesâhesitant. Reaching without reaching.
Fingertips graze your wrist, like heâs asking for permission without needing an answer.
âDonât say that,â he whispers.
You donât pull away.
âWhy not?â
His eyes flicker.
âBecause I donât know how to deserve it.â
The silence that follows isnât empty.
Itâs full of every word neither of you knows how to say.
Then he lifts his handâslow, reverentâand lets it settle along your jaw. Just barely. Like you might vanish if he touches you too fast.
You let your eyes fall closed.
So does he.
His mouth hovers near yours. A breath away.
And thenâ
you both pull back.
At the same time.
Like something holy just almost happened.
Like it still could.
You lean in, rest your forehead against his shoulder. He exhales, soft and long, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.
synopsis: dr. zayne coming home later than expected and finding his sweet girl asleep while wearing a new set.
cw: smut (18+ mdni), somnophilia, male masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v, prone bone, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, darling), mentions of phone sex, soft(?) sex, creampie, missionary
wc: 2.9k
-
he entered the house late one night, dragging his feet on the wooden floors as he walked in. god, he doesnât even know what time it is. 4, 5am? zayne feels absolutely horribleâhe said heâd be home by midnight, yet an emergency surgery held him back. he doesnât expect you to be awake, that would be absurd, but he does get curious as he sees a note on the kitchen counter.
âsurprise in the bedroom for you, loveâ the note read, in your handwriting. it was written in red ink with hearts all over it.
huh? he raised an eyebrow, rereading the note again. and again. thereâs no way youâd still be awake.
zayne keeps holding onto the note as he walks into your shared bedroom, confusion written clearly on his feautures as he slowly opens the door. youâre asleep, he knows you are. he cringes when the door hinges squeaks, stopping his movements. he pushes the door open again, just enough for him to slip into the room before he closes it behind him. he made sure to turn the handle before the door closed, staying as quiet as possible.
his eyes flickered over to the bed, seeing your sleeping form. you cuddled his pillow, arms wrapped around it as if it were him. it was something he often caught you doing when he was away, and it made his heart melt more every time he saw it.
he chuckled under his breath. cute, he thought.
the lamp on your nightstand was on the lowest setting, casting a warm yellow glow over your slumbering body. zayne took a step closer to the bed before his breath hitchedâyou were wearing a new lingerie set.
it was his favourite colour on you, too. a rich pink, the colour of perfectly ripe raspberries. the lace of the lingerie had intricate designs, flowers and vines with lighter pink accents. the colour made the tone of your skin pop as it accented your curves, making you seem that much more beautiful and feminine in his mind.
the set didnât leave much to the imaginationânot that he needed it, anyway. but he couldnât deny how absolutely breathtaking you looked, all dolled up and pretty as you snuggled against his pillow.
his pants grew tight at the display.
your handwriting in red ink caught his eye again. thereâs a note on your bedside table, accompanied with a bottle of lube and your fuzzy pink handcuffs. âgo crazy. please.â
his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on your temple.
a shower and then heâll do as you asked, he decided.
âď¸âęłâ˘â *Ö´
zayne doesnât know whatâs gotten into him. the doorâs cracked open just enough so he can see you, and he just canât seem to take his eyes off you. even through the fogged up glass of the shower he can see the silhouette of your body, blurs of pretty pink lace adorning your skin.
before he knows it, his hand is on his cock. thick and veiny, itâs hard just from the thought of you. he teases himself as he yearns for you, wishing it was your hand instead. he tugs on himself, eyes fluttering as his jaw grows slack, a breath escaping his throat. he turns around in the shower so the water hits his back before tugging again, eyes flitting closed as he rasps your name. he could physically feel his knees weaken; what was happening to him?
zayne reaches a hand towards the shower wall, steadying himself as hot water continues to downpour on him. heâs burning. itâs too hot, itâs too much. he turns the temperature down, turning around so the colder water hit hit face, his chest. his eyes are still closed as he unhurriedly strokes himself, another hiss of his loverâs name tumbling past his lips.
now that he thinks about it, when was the last time the two of you had been intimate? with both of you leading busy lives, zayne being a doctor and you being a hunter, spending time with one another was rare. but you knew it would be like this even before you became official, both of you did. nonetheless, you made it workânavigating through the thick and thin.
zayneâs horny mind quickly found itself thinking about the phone sex from a week ago; it had become a norm in your relationship. he loved hearing your sighs and whimpers over the call as you tried to keep yourself quiet in your cold, empty hotel room you often found yourself in during missions. but still, whenever it happened, your fingers could never replicate the feeling of his dexterous ones, and his fist didnât feel as good as your dainty one. it was in no way as good as the real thing, but it was good enough to satisfy both of you when youâre apart.
but now youâre here, and so is he, and heâs so excited. itâs painfully obvious with the way he is shamelessly touching himself, eyes half lidded as they roam down your silhouette. his sweet, loving girlfriend is finally home, wearing new lingerie, has given him her consent and he is definitely going to be taking advantage of it.
he comes out of the shower a few minutes later, not even bothering with getting dressed. zayne just had his towel hanging low on his hips, hair still damp. he didnât let himself finish, wanting to do it when he fucks you instead. plus, why would waste cum when he can dump it in you? his mind gets full of ideas, but when heâs standing beside the bed his heart goes soft. he picks up the note again, rereading it.
he flips the paper over. âi have the day off tomorrow!â
could this get any more perfect?
zayne puts the note down back on the nightstand before turning his attention to you. he sat down, the mattress creaking under him as he brushed the hair away from your face. heâs so soft, gentle and domestic, as he leans down to kiss your cheek, catching a whiff of your shampoo.
you started to shift, mumbling incoherently before you stilled again, still asleep. zayne pulled back, letting one of his hands wander. he traced to smooth curve of your neck, drawing mindless shapes as his hands travelled further down. it finally settled on your waist, thumb rubbing back and forth on your silky, pliable skin.
it didnât stay there for long, thoughâhe couldnât stop himself from exploring further. his hand goes further south, tracing the intricate details of the lacy panties you wore. eventually zayneâs hand is between your thighs, forefinger swiping across your slit-
but then he realizes that theyâre crotchless.
you, his innocent devoted girlfriend, bought crotchless lingerie.
dirty girl!
he couldnât help but to smirk, his face heating up at the discovery.
he quickly bring his hand to his mouth, spitting on his middle and ring fingers. his hand returned to you cunt, teasing and spreading you open. you may be asleep, but he could feel the way your body reacted to his touch.
âzayne,â he caught his name amidst your slumberous mumbling. it caused his smile to grow.
slowly, carefully, he could feel you getting wetter and wetter. his fingers traveled upwards towards your clit, not quite touching. he circled his finger around it, mindful of not applying direct pressure but still aware of how the muscles of your thighs twitched when he brushed against it.
even in your sleep, youâre so reactive to him.
zayneâs skilled fingers made their way back to you slit, prodding at your entrance before pushing in. of course he caught the way your walls happily welcomed him in, fluttering and throbbing like itâs been ages since theyâve had any attention. his fingers scissored and thrusted inside you, stretching you out to take his painfully hard cock. he fisted himself with his free hand, eyes blissfully closed and head thrown back as his thumb rubbed circles on your clit. the towel he wore was long forgotten on the floor, but he couldnât care less right nowânot when he had you all to himself after god knows how long.
your mindless whimpers were music to his ears, a sound heâd never tire from hearing. he felt your velvet walls fluttering and throbbing around his fingers, and combined with the way your thighs quivered and spasmed, he knew you were close. you arms tightened around his pillow and you buried your face further into it, shoulder rising and falling faster as your breathing picked up.
âmm-mmh,â your hums and whimpers filled the room, along with the squelches of your wetness against his fingers. with a hitched breath and a soft pant, you came undone around his fingers, cunt wildly throbbing around zayneâs digits.
he eased you through your orgasm, slowing down his fingers with a subtle smile on his lips. he withdrew them, leaving your puckering hole trying to clench around nothing as he brought his fingers to his mouth. zayne hummed at the taste of your sweetness, licking his fingers clean of your juices. he knew it was lewd. he just made you come while youâre asleep! but he just couldnât resist; why would he waste a delicacy like this?
he stopped pumping himselfâhard, fat cock resting against his stomach as he let himself go. with prominent veins and an angry tip, he was aching to finally be inside you. zayne grabbed a pillow, settling it so it was under your hips before he moved so he was on top of you, seamlessly slipping inside your heat and bottoming out into a prone bone.
you shifted under him, a looong whine leaving your throat when he pushed himself in. he waited until you settled to move again, slowly pulling himself out before gently pushing back in. he continued his slow, unhurried pace as he noticed you waking up from your slumber.
âzay- hah,â your voice was meek, quiet, riddled with sleep. âzayne,â you almost whined, tired tone taking over as mewls continued to leave you.
âgood morning, sleeping beauty.â he whispered into your ear, leaning down to place a kiss on your trapezius. âsleep well?â
âmmhmmm,â you hummed dreamily, hiding the growing smile on your face by hiding your face in the pillow. âoh!â
âi apologize for being late,â zayne continued to sweetly talk to you, keeping his tempo slow and controlled. âthere was an emergency surgeryâyou know how that goes.â
you hummed once more, only half paying attention to what your boyfriend was saying. your mind was more pre occupied with how he was making love to you. ââs okay,â your words slurred, still quiet as you arms stayed wrapped about his pillow. âbig fancy surgeon stuff.â
âmm, exactly.â he nosed where your neck and shoulder met, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash. he let his eyes close, pace speeding up just a crumb. he let his lips linger on your skin, pressing his words into you. âi love you.â
âi- mmh, love you too.â
he smiled, one hand gliding down to you waist. âi like these,â he pulled at the waistband and let go of it, causing it to hit your skin with a smack! âdid you get them while you were away?â
you hummed again, nodding. still too sleepy to form full, coherent sentences.
âwords, sweetheart,â he grunted, a particularly hard thrust eliciting a moan from the both of you. âi need words. use them.â
ây-yes,â you replied quietly, eyes closed as your fingers curled against the pillow. âknew you liked the colour, so i- mm, got a pair.â
âtheyâre crotchless,â he smirked against your skin, eyes opening slightly to watch your expression. âdirty girl.â
zayne could see the way your cheeks grew rosier, matching the lingerie that garnished your body. âaw, are you shy, darling?ââ
your whine of his name left him reeling. his pace sped up, the pap! pap! pap! of your skin drowning out your noises of pleasure.
âzayne!â you mewled with a gasp of his name, back arching deliciously against him. âhah- harder!â
âwhatâs the magic word, my love?â
ânnmh- please,â your face went deeper into the pillow, fingers gripping at the pillowcase helplessly.
he listened, humming contently as you did as he asked. âvery good,â
your body rocked back and forth with the power of his thrusts, sweet mewls trailing past your lips. zayneâs head was up in the stratosphere with how well you were taking him, velvety walls gripping onto him like a vice. he sped up his pace, one hand resting on your waistâpulling you down onto himâwhile the other stayed by your head, supporting himself.
you turned your head just slightly, looking over your shoulder at the doctor. you took in his drip-drip-dripping hair and the way the smell of his body wash was stronger, even if it was masked by the scent of sex. you concluded he mustâve just taken a shower. you were snapped out of your thoughts when the bulbous head of his cock bumped against your g-spot, eliciting a breathy moan from your lips. âhngh, zayne, there!â
ârightââ he grunted, biting his bottom lip in concentration. he thrusted again, hard, hitting the spot you wanted. âhere?â
âyes!â
he chuckled at your earnest response, pushing his cock against that spot repeatedly. he looked down, watching the way he kept disappearing into you, mesmerized.
âatta girl, taking me so well.â
âtheeere you go, just like that.â
you could feel that familiar coil in your stomach, the one that left your body tingling and buzzing with electricity. your noises became sharper, more needier, and he picked up on that almost immediately.
âwait, wait-â zayne panted quickly pulling out. you clenched around nothing, whining at the feeling of being empty. âwanna see your face with you come, love.â
he flipped you around effortlessly, pillow still under your hips as he spread your legs. his cock easily found its way back into you, like coming home from a long day. your back arched at the new angle, lips parted and eyes closed as zayne cradled you head in his hands.
âso pretty fâme, darling,â he praised, hips moving again as he found his pace once more. he leaned down, capturing you lips a with his own, devouring your little noises.
your hands came up to touch him, raking through his hair, clawing at his shoulders, just trying to hold onto anything. âz-zayne, mmh, so- so close! keep going!â
one of his hands snaked down your body, past the valley between your breasts and down your stomach, index finger just ghosting past your clit. it was teasing, mischievous, and he knew it. smirking against your lips, he nibbled at them as you let out a needy and annoyed whine.
âhah-harder!â
he didnât have to be told twice.
zayne pinched your swollen, puffy clit before he drew stars on it, observing with a watchful gaze as your body shook and spasmed. he couldnât help the smirk that crawled onto his lipsâhe was the one making you feel this way. heâs the one thatâs making you tremble beneath him, right on the brink of your orgasm. it was his name that sweetly fell from your lips like a mantra.
that gave him a bigger ego boost than it probably shouldâve.
your cunt fluttered and squeezed around him, trying to milk him for all heâs worth. âso- so close-!â
âi know, sweetheart, itâs okay,â he cooed, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear. your thighs shuddered, chest heaving with your quick intakes of air.
you came with a cry of your loverâs name, back arching off the mattress as your legs grew numb. your walls pulsated are him, desperately trying to keep him in you. a few more thrusts and zayne came as well, head hanging above yours as he whispered sweet nothings. he stilled, making no movement to take himself out of youâjust staying together in the most intimate way possible, coming down from your highs and breathing syncing up.
your eyelids flitted open, your hands coming up to cup zayneâs face. you pulled, bringing his head down to yours as you placed a sweet kiss onto his lips. âthank you,â
âmm,â he hummed, smiling against you as he placed another kiss onto you. âof course.â
he reluctantly pulled out, eyes flickering down to your poor, picking hole, oozing with the combined aftermath of your orgasms. zayne moved off the bed, quickly making his way to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and running it under some warm water before he returned to you.
your eyes were closed, blissfully fucked out, legs still spread for him. a sigh escaped you as he ran the towel on your thighs before making his way between them, careful and delicate, like the gentleman he is.
after discarding the towel, he came back to you. the mattress dipped under his weight as he pulled you onto his chest, kissing the top of your head as his hands raked through your hair. you were already close to falling asleep, he could tell, and a small smile graced his lips. âi love you.â
âmmh, love you too.â you mumbled, pushing yourself further onto his body.
his eyes flickered to the bedside table again, where your pink fuzzy still rested. maybe heâll use those next time, he thinks before joining you and falling asleep.
