#do they know the power they have on people??
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Heatwave: Day 1
tw: explicit content, 5k+ words, reader/sukuna. female!reader, beta!reader, alpha!sukuna, true form!sukuna. oral (male/female receiving), PIV, size difference, sukuna has a knot, sukuna is lowkey a masochist, some anal (not the reader's ass).
It wasn’t as bad as one might expect, being Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine.
Oh, he was terrifying, certainly. Death wasn’t uncommon in the household, though rarer than some might think.
Sukuna traveled often, sampling both the lands and the people within them, returning to the estate only when it pleased him to do so.
Everyone in the estate knew their master’s expectations and the consequences for not meeting them. Only the rare missteps resulted in punishments, though they were indeed brutal.
On some occasion, the lord’s aide would bring half-dead curses - or corpses of enemy sorcerers - to a separate building on the estate for some strange and nefarious purpose.
It made no difference to you. The estate was clean and well-maintained, the servants attentive, and the stocks never ran low.
You were living the perfect life.
No one denied you anything. You could summon merchants, make the odd trip into town, and entertain yourself however you wished, provided you fulfilled your responsibilities as a concubine.
You were a nobody before you came to the estate.
You’re still a nobody, but everyone here is a nobody in Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes.
Your lifespans are determined by how useful you were to him at any given moment.
And he had an unexpected use for a common whore like you.
It was probably more surprising that you were a beta, and not an omega – infinitely more desirable for an alpha like the lord, one would assume.
You’d never presumed to pry before, but it’s easy to speculate, after having known him long enough.
He’s a powerful man, utterly indifferent to societal standards or norms. His desire and satisfaction were above all other things, just as he was above everyone weaker than him. And everyone was weaker than him.
It was hard to imagine him at the mercy of an omega’s potent pheromones, longing for the comfort of his partner’s nest, pining for the love of his mate, or driven madly to lust by the scent of a rut.
Or perhaps he indulged plenty, but so much fervor could only end in bloodlust on his part. Any omega summoned to his chambers to serve his pleasure never returned.
You do fare luckier in that respect. He may not have been gentle lover, but as long as you’d served him he’d left you with no more than bruises and bite marks.
And he could hurt you, destroy you, utterly disfigure you in permanent and terrifying ways… with just a casual glancing blow.
Sukuna is present on this night, though, and it appears he’s summoned you.
His aide, Uruame, is far closer to him than any of his concubines, and by now you know the sound of their footsteps slowing as they near your door.
They smile at you as you open the door for them, bowing before your eyes meet theirs.
Uruame is not fond of any of their lord’s concubines, as a rule. Being a beta themselves, it’s unlikely they understand Sukuna’s needs as an alpha any better than you do.
But what they can understand is that you respect their lord immensely. A sorcerer yourself, you know enough to appreciate the scale of his power, and you had never made any secret of your admiration.
Unlike many other concubines brought in, you had very little arrogance to show for your beauty and bedroom skills. Uruame probably does appreciate that.
You’re a beta from a brothel, so you have no delusions of self-importance, but Sukuna, and by extension Uruame, couldn’t care less where you came from.
You know their purpose as soon as they arrive; they don’t need to engage in any inane conversation or instructions.
As soon as Sukuna had returned, you’d readied and dressed yourself in case he were to summon you. It happens more often than not whenever he’s back at the estate.
You suspect you’re the only one he summons during his rut.
His omega concubines are… single-use. Your fellow betas are few in number, and he’s no more forgiving with his concubines than he is his other servants.
You follow Uraume to his room. You can’t tell if he’s in a rut or not, but your suspicion is confirmed as Uruame gives a short nod, then strides off.
Sukuna doesn’t like being seen during his rut. Many have learned the hard way.
“Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation?” His voice is as gruff as ever. Low, heady, a delicious groan that sends shivers down your form.
He didn’t ask to be answered, of course. The only appropriate response to Sukuna’s question is action.
Quickly you slide the door open and shut it behind yourself as you fall into a low bow. You don’t meet his eyes without permission.
“Get up.” Your cue to sit up, to not bother with any further formalities. His rut must be well underway. “Come over already.”
You don’t waste any more time. He sounds impatient, and he probably is, but any less deference could see your head separated from your body. It’s especially important not to touch him first, to let him touch you.
Sukuna loathes being touched without permission.
It’s not something you have to worry about, though. As soon as you’re within reach, one of his hands bears down onto your shoulder; to him, it’s as good as an explicit instruction.
You never subject Sukuna to the indignity of having to voice his desires.
Perhaps that’s why he likes you so – there’s a flash of something pure alpha, an intense delight in his eyes as you kneel and attend to him in prefect obedience and submission.
Falling to your knees at his feet, wasting not even a second, you work to free his painful erection from the confines of his clothes.
Practiced hands accomplish it easily, and you’re rewarded with a large hand that strokes through your hair, brushing it back out of your face and holding it there.
His erection springs forward, as impatient as he is. His knot is already swollen up.
It’s red and flushed, pink to match his hair, heavy and thick like all the rest of his limbs.
Even an omega would blanch at taking such a monster. You are well-trained.
It’s enough just to lick at it, some cursory strokes to wet the shaft with his precum, to touch your lips to his heated flesh. Searing, really.
Wide, open-mouthed kisses dragged along him until his cock is coated well enough with spit and his own pre.
Without any further hesitation you open your mouth wide and take him all the way down to the knot, lips thinning where his cock swells and throbs.
The head is already lodged in your throat, and you swallow as you take it down, pressing your lips in. A moan tells you he’s already growing sensitive.
It wouldn’t feel very good for him to knot in your throat – he’s never bothered with it before – but there’s always a flash of satisfaction in his eyes.
Sukuna doesn’t want to knot your throat, but it pleases him to think that he could. That you are willing and ready to take it, if he wished.
“Good little beta." The mouth on his abdomen seems to grin at you, wide and dripping saliva.
A fire ignites in your belly at the praise, face heating up, your own mouth opening wide.
No matter what you are, Sukuna is an alpha through and through, and the desire to please surges as his hand presses you forward.
As a concubine or a common harlot, you’d always been good at your job.
Sorcery had delivered you from the streets and into Sukuna’s estate, and diligence, determination, had kept you alive throughout it all.
Others died around you. Weak. You would do whatever it took to survive, however ugly it may be.
Taking cock down your throat isn’t even close to the most degrading thing you’ve done, and at least there’s only one man now for you to serve.
He’s not even a bad lay. Either a suppressed instinct to please his mate as an alpha or some fortuitous chemistry has always ensured he brings you to release whenever you fuck.
The unmarred half of his face is undeniably handsome, and after all you’d seen, you’re utterly indifferent to the deformity. It’s just there. A part of him like any other – the other arms, the other mouth.
You’re sure you yourself have flaws in his eyes, but if he truly did not want you, you’d never have been allowed in his chambers to begin with. Sukuna is a man with absolutely no interest in pretenses. He takes what he wants, when he wants it, always.
Sometimes, you think that you and Sukuna aren’t all that different after all.
An alpha who was malformed, cast out by society, recognized only in disgust or fear.
And you, sold by a father eager to make any money he could off a pretty beta daughter.
You were unfit to be an alpha’s bride, but perfectly suited to be every alpha’s whore.
If you wanted happiness, you had to seize it, even if it meant choking the life out of someone else.
Both of you were worth only as much as you could curse others. Sukuna’s worth is greater than yours, but in his shadow everyone is equally worthless, and in his gaze – at least for this moment – you are worthy of him.
The fingers in your hair tighten; a hiss, “Take it!” and you suckle diligently as you bob backwards, diving forward straight away to take him to the root again.
Inhuman though he may be, his cock is much the same as any other alpha’s, if a bit larger.
Hot, smooth skin, veins that pulse and bulge inside your mouth. A salty taste you’d grown accustomed to, a stretch in your mouth and your jaw that you ameliorated by focusing on hollowing your cheeks, dragging your tongue along it.
Betas can’t purr, not like omegas or alphas can, but you approximate it with a hum, a gentle sigh through your nose and fluttering, lowered lashes.
A low exhalation. Controlled. “There she is…” The hand in your hair goes to stroke possessively over your cheek. “My little beta. All for me.”
His eyes dilate in lust – you always meet his gaze while you do this, for as long as you’re able, you know he likes this – and you know before you feel the touch of his hand on your jaw to begin drawing back.
His hand barely ghosts you before you move, leaving trails of saliva strung between your lips and his shining cock while you gaze up at him.
Another theatric he enjoys. His tongue darts out from his lips, grasping and stroking himself, hand coated in a sweet-smelling oil you recognize.
His other arms reach to grasp you by the shoulder, pulling you up to stand and burying your face in his neck wordlessly.
They wrap around you, pulling you into him as he steps back to sit on the bed where you follow.
It surprises you every time, just how much your body comes alive at his touch.
Heart racing as if it can jump through your skin and into the hands that trace your throat, your collarbone, down your chest, dragging the slip of a robe you’d worn down with it.
Sukuna likes undressing you, alpha that he is.
Like you’re a sacred treasure to be unveiled only by his hands. You always wear something easy to take off, and nothing else.
His touch is your leave to respond in kind; he’s fully bared, now, all tattooed skin and corded muscle.
A warrior’s form, conveying power and strength in every divot and valley. Your heart races as you lay your hands on him.
Maybe it’s the thrill of it.
Sukuna is utterly untouchable. The greatest sorcerers of your time had died failing to scratch the smooth, unbroken skin he offers to you so freely.
As a concubine, you don’t get much contact. Less still, since no one would dare lay a hand on a consort Sukuna summons so often to his side.
Normally that suited you just fine, but sometimes with him you feel like a dog straining on a leash.
Desperate for him to reach out, to feel him on you. Lust and adrenaline coursing through you the instant he makes contact.
Even as a beta, this close, it’s impossible not to smell him; he’s pulled you to his throat on instinct.
His scent glands are right there, and you don’t hesitate to lick at them, letting your breath ghost over the hot, spit-slicked skin. Dragging your teeth along the swollen flesh.
That’s one of the things he likes best. He knows you’re a beta. You have no fangs, you couldn’t mark him if you wanted to. Not with anything but curses.
But still, it is a pleasure. The salt on your tongue, the flesh that yields beneath your teeth, even without breaking, as the alpha’s aroma fills your senses.
Sukuna is spiced; harsh, in some ways, like cinnamon, but warm like a pleasant woodsmoke, like the heat of oil burning in a lamp. Just this side of decadent – opulent, almost, and still primal and raw.
It doesn’t affect you like you imagine it would an alpha or omega. But it’s nice. He smells nice.
You don’t hesitate to nip at his lips when he presses them to yours.
Perhaps one of the reasons Sukuna hates being touched without permission is because he also doesn’t care to be touched gently.
If he weren’t in rut, you would have dragged your teeth over his cock while it was in your mouth, but he’s not able to savor such services in his current state.
They’re red, so red, all his four eyes staring into you. Burning in want. In want of you.
“Fierce little thing.” You can taste his grin, you’re close enough. “See how fierce you’ll be when you’re full of me. My beta. Mine.”
“Yours,” You agree breathily, and lean back in to catch his mouth with your own.
His lips are one place you’re able to make him bleed, dragging the bottom lip beneath your teeth and pinching it, then darting your tongue in to taste.
Sukuna hums at the taste of metal in his mouth, sucks your tongue between his lips to press and purse and suckle on at his leisure. Brilliant red eyes half-lidded in lust.
Your hands get to work, one of them cupping his jaw and then his hair, brushing it back in a way that makes him preen now that he’s in rut and can’t suppress it.
Alphas love getting petted, and Sukuna loves the scrape of fingernails over his scalp, a tight tug against his hair; it all sends his knot pulsing against you.
“Here. Your mouth had a taste, let’s see how your cunt likes it.” His arms lift you up just enough to sit over his well-muscled legs.
Your thighs spread while his cock falls forward, between your thighs.
Sukuna holds you there, just far enough, letting it rub against you with little tugs to your hips. Desire sparking like flint where his length rubs against you. Fuck.
Oh, you want him. Ache for him. It pulls low in your core, to lean into him, to feel his arms holding you in place, to feel him all against you.
You wrap your arms around him in return, clawing at his shoulders as the mouth on his stomach tongues between your legs. It’s exquisite and agonizing all at once. Slick and dragging against you, heavy and broad.
He’s already purring at the taste of you. Hands clenching in desire over the roundness of your hip.
You want him. You want him.
You can have him, take him, touch, touch, touch. Dig your teeth into the firm muscle against his neck to feel his purr grow louder under your teeth.
Your curse technique flickers at your fingertips, dancing over the open canvas of his back.
Inhaling sharply, you think you hear him swear, and then, “Yes.” He laughs breathily, “More. Put more into it. That can’t be all you’ve got.”
It isn’t. The sound of him is everywhere now, vibrations that shake you all the way to your core.
The mouth on his belly still laps at your folds. It drools on your folds like you’re a meal he cannot wait to savor.
Sukuna is already running hot. It’s too easy when he’s like this, all heated, blood pumping heavy through every part of him.
Just beneath the surface you feel it; searing, boiling, heat jumping up to meet your touch. Like liquid fire underneath his skin, you’d heard it described. Exhilarating, Sukuna had called it.
A talent half-learned by accident in the steamy, lurid, filthy recesses of the brothel you’d worked at. A dark place filled with malice and jealousy, reeking of curses in every corner. One day you’d awoken with a strength that sung in your veins, screamed to be used.
You had learned to vanquish shadows with a flick of your wrist, the creatures bursting from the inside.
Once, on a lark, you’d tried it on a client who struggled to maintain his hardness. It had been remarkably effective, pooling blood in his cock, and with a little work you were able to reproduce it in other ways.
It had all been success from there. Climbing the ranks, scoring pleasure into the flesh of those who paid you well enough.
Oh, it was painful, too, but what pleasure in life came without a little pain? If you wanted something, you had to be willing to sacrifice for it.
A founding principle of jujutsu. It’s no wonder Sukuna so delights in battle, either against sorcerers or in his own bed; when you heat his blood in his veins it sends his knot pulsing, throbbing, twitching in excitement as pre drips out.
With him holding you so close you can feel his purring throughout your whole body.
A rare pleasure, a prize you win with vicious effort, cursed energy surging in your hands as you rake your nails over the glorious, muscled expanse of his back.
“Open,” Sukuna commands.
It’s a tone that never fails that make you tremble in anticipation. Your cunt is already dripping with it.
The part of your legs widen, and you lean back to look down at where he’s settled against you.
He’s so large. Always so large. The knot swelling already.
You’re clenching already, quivering, like you’re the one in heat and not he in his rut.
God, you want him to fuck you already.
One massive hand reaches down, stroking over his cock, wet with your saliva, his precum, and the oil substitute for an omega’s slick.
It nudges at your cunt and you let out a short whimper that sends him snarling, thick fingers digging sweet bruises into your hips.
“Always so sweet for me,” His lips ghost over your temple as he stares down, “Delectable. Strong little thing, you can take it.”
The head of his cock slots against your entrance. Fuck, it’s hot, burning, searing, you’re so fucking ready, your cunt is weeping and you feel like keening for it, “Please. Alpha, please.”
You can almost see it in his eyes, red and feral with need. Omega, my omega, my mate – all the things you’ve heard from alphas before.
Clingy, possessive, biting at you, rutting into you like they can breed you. All the filthy things whose beds you’d warmed in the past.
They all pale in comparison to the King of Curses. Hot and throbbing and silken against your entrance, the deep grunt of effort that you feel when he lines himself up and drives himself in.
The very sensation knocks the wind out of you.
Sukuna slides in easily but it’s tight, so tight, always. You feel him feel it, too, all those muscles growing taut before you as he sinks into you.
Your arms tremble before they remember what to do; grasping carelessly at his shoulders, clawing for purchase as the whines claw their way up your throat. They’re shoved back down by the deep moan you make when he reaches the end of your passage.
“F-fuck,” it’s good, it’s so good, it hurts so good and there’s nothing you can do but sit there and take it. Just as he told you to.
It’s always a bit painful, but there’s a pleasure in it, too, the piercing delight of being so thoroughly fucked into. You swear you feel yourself dripping out where he enters you, and you moan again at the feeling of him dragging himself out.
A low noise, a chuckle; like every sound Sukuna makes, you feel it just as much as you hear it.
“Do it again.” He demands, and you would never make the alpha wait.
You couldn’t even if you wanted to.
He pushes into you again and your moans crack, because he slides through easier this time but it’s just so big, so fucking huge you feel your walls trying to flex, envelop him, desperate to find any give at all, but there’s just no give.
It’s like having solid steel lodged inside you, burning hot and smooth against your core.
“Good beta.” Sukuna effortlessly lifts you up by the hips, dragging you off his cock and savoring how you whine at its loss, “My good little beta. Squeezing me so tight.”
He drops you down, down, back onto him. Cock thrusting up into you, cleaving your cunt apart, hitting a spot that makes you wail. Sukuna laughs, and you can feel his cock twitching.
“Need my cock, do you, little beta?” The rut is at its height now, pulling him in, smearing possession all over his face, his evil grin. “Even if it breaks you apart?”
All you can do is nod while you pant. He pulls you up and down by the waist, fucking you on his cock like a tool for his pleasure –
And Sukuna has never failed to use a tool to its fullest extent. “Fuck, fuck – fuck, alpha, please – please, please – ”
His own laughter is broken up by heavy breaths. One of his huge hands grasps you by the scruff of your neck, and you try to go obediently limp but your whole body jerks with the unrestrained force of his fucking into you.
Tight and unforgiving, baring your throat for him to dive into. An alpha in the midst of his rut. His teeth graze over your neck, licking where scent glands would normally be.
“Please,” Your breath catches in your throat at Sukuna’s kiss, all teeth and feral smiles pressed into your skin.
He stays like that for a moment, knot pulsing desperately just outside of your cunt.
Grinding into you like he thinks he can fit it in – you both know it can’t, you simply don’t have the anatomical space of an omega. But it feels good.
So good. It rubs, hot and throbbing against your clit, and fuck if you don’t nearly cum from it right there, tightness in your core heavy and ready to burst.
“Sukuna,” You say his name in a broken moan.
Teeth in your jugular. Hot tongue over your throat.
Hands gripping your sides. Moving you up and down like a puppet.
Cock pressing and pressing into you, relentless. Pleasure lapping at your insides as his cock rocks into you, begging to be let in.
A thumb on your clit, rubbing circles. “Cum, beta. Cum for your alpha – hngh – cum now – ”
Pleasure bursts through you, as if brought to life by his words. White hot and overflowing, every part of your body floating on air.
It’s like you’re a feather in his hands. Airy lightness fills you and even the stretch between your legs feels pleasant, a welcome intrusion, cunt blissfully numb.
Sukuna fucks you through it all the while, breathless, determined, on the brink himself as he chases the friction of you squeezing the life out of him.
You twitch in his grasp, aftershocks trembling through. He holds you upright easily, letting your head fall forward while he drags you up and down, mindlessly brushing his burning knot against your entrance.
It’s several moments before you catch yourself; it makes no difference to Sukuna. Your climax brought him closer, but not there, not just yet.
It’s with the giddy sort of warmth your afterglow brings that you lazily grope the space next to the bed.
You find the vial of oil he’d used earlier, and easily unscrew the top and spread it across your fingers with a single hand.
Sukuna had stared a moment the first time he saw you do that. So you have a sorcerer’s dexterity after all, he’d said, and it was the compliment you’d treasured most to date.
This time, his eyes don’t leave your body. All four of them, red and fiery and burning into you. Your chest. Your face.
They linger where your bodies are joined, at the stretch of your cunt taking him, the hole that has no more to give him but squeezes him anyways.
You can tell by his ragged breaths he needs more stimulation, heavy in rut and knotted tight as he is. That’s fine. You’ve done this before.
Slicked fingers find his waist, and then lower, to his ass. He parts his knees further, as if for more leverage to thrust fruitlessly against you, and you take the opportunity to squeeze one well-muscled cheek with your dripping hand.
The sharp inhale – you’re sure he’d hate to hear it called a gasp – “Beta!” – tells you you’re free to go ahead.
So you do, digging your fingertips into his ass, into a hole too well-oiled to not have been prepared beforehand.
A rumble swells, in his chest, his throat, pressing hard against you along with his cock, nudging his knot further against your entrance.
You tease along the rim and then drive into it. He hisses as it burns, knot throbbing against you, massive hands squeezing bruises and then caressing them as soon as they bloom.
It’s delicious, the way it clenches at your fingertips, tight and furled up, but you slip in easily with his preparation and your oiled fingers.
Darting into the yielding warmth of his insides, a pleasure that has him seizing against you, all muscle and magnificent form trained on your touch.
Your cunt clenches at the thought, the power you have in this moment; it squeezes the cock spearing you and sends tremors through his form.
“Clever girl,” He rumbles as you drag along his insides, “Clever fingers,” another heavy thrust, fingers twitching, “More,” thrust, shudder, “More!”
With a heated urgency your fingers curl, feeling, pressing around in a way that has Sukuna panting, teething at your shoulder, kneading hands against your hips while you search for just the right spot.
His knot presses insistently against your entrance, where there’s no space for you to receive it, but it catches on your oversensitive clit enough to make you gasp and whine.
Sukuna grins, mouth wide open, drooling like the feral, satisfied monster he was.
“Beta…” he hums, and it feels like he’s saying your name, as close to a loving coo as a creature like him can make.
And then, then, you find it, as you have so many times before. A high, keening noise Sukuna would be otherwise unwilling to part with, drawn out from him in the height of his rut.
You press into a bundle of flesh through his insides. A spot that sends him rutting wildly against you, unconcerned with his knot or anything besides fucking and feeling more of that pressure into him.
It’s almost all you can do to keep it coming, your other arm flailing desperately to reach around him for any kind of purchase while he thrusts your mind away.
Pleasure finds you again but this is liquid flames instead of white hot.
It pours out from you, spilling everywhere, the feeling of his release spurting inside you.
Full, full, fuller, so full you swear you’re bursting, it feels so fucking good. Flowing out over his cock, against your cunt, where his hurried thrusts squeezes it into a lewd, sopping met against your clit.
This one brings tears to your eyes. The sound of it, wet and squelching, utterly lewd, like you can feel the tremors of pleasure that have you milking him for cum that cannot impregnate you.
His hands are all that ground you, points on your body where his touch had ceased to be painful, to be anything but a feeling of him against you, the warm and powerful alpha who’d taken you to his bed, monster or not.
Sukuna groans and pants his heart out, still fucking into you while your eyes are glassy and all movement has left your body.
Your clever little hand fallen to the side as its purpose was fulfilled, his knot finally unraveling into the delicious joy of breeding you.
Ahh. He can admit the look in his eyes when he looks at you is fondness, to some degree. His perfect little beta. Wicked fingers and the smartest mouth he’d ever seen. Always so good for him.
He lays himself down alongside you on the bed, still buried deep in you, cum leaking slowly away.
The mess never bothered him, not in the torrid, heated moments of bodies entwined. He’d bathe with you later.
So warm. Always warm and welcoming him, your cunt is the most exquisite hole he’s ever known, but it’s the rest of you that makes it worth his time. Every time.
There’s something about it that sends a frenzy through him.
A hurried urge, like a desire to run or jump or lash out, but instead it makes him want to wrap his entire self around you and laugh in wicked delight.
It feels like fire on the battlefield, blood on his tongue, power coursing through every pore, seas ready to part at his command. It feels like strength, but he’s not even holding you very tightly.
He takes a deep breath, face pressed to your hair; beta. A faint, pure, neutral scent, so unmistakable in its cause. It elicits no particular reaction, stirs no great curiosity or lust.
But you do. It’s easy, natural, to wrap all four arms around you and squeeze. Your perfect figure yielding in his grasp, compressing beneath him, legs folding as he swings one over yours.
A purr rumbles deep in his chest as the sensation envelops him.
Touching, holding, entwined. You, completely full of him, made docile with his cum and his knot, surrendering to his embrace. All his. All for him.
Your boneless, weak figure in his arms, the little sigh of bliss you let out… it’s a feeling that’s only come to him in the midst of battle, curses coursing, glorious, in every direction.
A thrill of triumph that enervates, lightens every one of his limbs and sets him with a feeling of utter satisfaction.
Sukuna is purring in earnest now, and he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed by it.
Why suppress his instincts for the beta that so perfectly warms his bed? Why restrain himself in any way, when you’re wholly incapable of binding him, of bearing pups or marking him, and serve him with such delectable vigor?
An arm, so much smaller than his, slowly slips itself over his waist. You’re barely conscious, pretty face all flushed from your climax, unable to even open your eyes.
But your head drifts towards his chest even while asleep, where the vibrations are the strongest. Tucked under his neck, nestled in him and his scent.
An alpha’s purr is usually a sign of contentment, but it’s supposed to be soothing to omegas. As far as he knows, it doesn’t have any particular effect on betas.
Sukuna supposes it’s probably just you.
It’s so easy to reduce you to want, to unrestrained lust, pure and devoted entirely to him. Why should he need an omega when he has this at his beck and call?
You can’t be bred, of course – that was the whole point of using a beta. But sometimes he does wonder.
What you would look like if you were with child. Breasts heavy with milk, the mild scent of a beta humming with the life nurtured within.
You’re strong. You’d produce fine offspring. Your curse technique is interesting in its own right – igniting a person’s own cursed energy from beneath their skin. Not remarkable in effectiveness, but wholly unique in its operation.
Would it stop his ruts, to see you pregnant for some time? You’re the only one he spends them with, so seeing you pregnant might just delay them, without the influence of an omega’s hormones.
Would he grow more aggressive as you neared delivery? Would his instincts command him to slay your spawn so he could fill you with his own?
Uruame is a beta, and has the necessary parts. He could breed you without all the tiresome mechanics of a bond between alpha and omega; place his two favorite subjects together and watch as his loyal subject bred his most treasured concubine for him.
Watching you take in the seed of someone other than him… but Uruame is a beta, and belongs to him as much as you do. If he scented them as well, perhaps? They always had very little scent of their own.
Heat stirs within him at the thought. It’s too early to tell if it’s anger at the idea or arousal, especially in the state he’s in.
You make a little noise, and all four eyes shoot down to look over your form, all sweat and heat and dripping cum.
He shifts to move some of his weight off of you, sliding onto his back and settling your head on his chest so you can drift to sleep to the sound of his purring.
After all, his rut is just beginning. Sukuna can spare you some rest…
For an hour or so.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#omegaverse#beta!reader#alpha!sukuna#lemon#sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#afab!reader#female!reader
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(Reposting from twitter)
My POV as a Black fan that thinks Dot and Bubble's racism commentary is trash
Rewatched Dot and Bubble and I'm gonna break down from my POV as a Black fan why this episode didn't work for me & why it's an awful racism commentary. Long arse post incoming:
The whole "You should've noticed the cast was all white except for fifteen ha your bias is showing" doesn't work for a show that's been predominantly white for 60+ years. D&B casting has been the default for most of the show so its not abnormal enough to be a racial litmus test. An example is the Matt Smith era The only reoccurring character of colour in s5 (2+ appearances) is Liz 10. Artie n Angie in s7. 0 in s6. RTD's own era isn't fully safe either. For many eps Martha or Mickey are the *only* Black characters. Most POC are side characters or extras.
White fans should be aware of the predominantly white casting of the show but this late in the game feels cheap. Most of the show has gone through 100% white episodes including fan faves and it was never an issue back then bc it was beneficial. This is so hollow. Representing racists as cartoon caricatures SEVERLY underestimates the danger of white supremacy irl. White supremacy is system designed and constructed and rebranded over centuries. It is not accidental. People aren't racist bc they don't know they're racist because they *do* They know the system that oppresses POC, Black people especially, benefits them socially and financially and that is why they participate. Its not stupidity it's intention. That should've been the Finetime core not Lindy goofing around bc the arrows are gone or some shit.
Human Nature showed us racist young people that exercised this power bc they knew this. They may be children but they are still dangerous bc of their views. Martha knew this. The silly tech obsessed gen z angle erases this danger and that of actual gen z white supremacy
Instead of the camp goofy tone we could've gotten a serious focused episode. The slugs and millenial/gen z social media silly distracts from what could've been the main theme of colonisation instead of saving it for 10 mins of exposition at the end & scattering microaggressions. Saving Fifteen's racism scene for a goofy episode was a horrid idea. Spending 30 mins on representing racism as silliness then giving a dramatic dangerous score is the definition of tonal whiplash. Representing his oppressor as a blonde bimbo again does not take this seriously. Fifteen went to 1960s BRITAIN & got through it unscathed. Finetime is a fictional futuristic land but the racism of 1960s Britain was real. If anytime was right it could've been Devil's Chord. Distancing yourself from a panto villain is easy but addressing your history is hard.
The scene itself is incredibly performed so I'll give Ncuti his flowers but what he used this skill for could've been so much more. Having his FIRST SCENE begging to save a racist is disgusting. It isn't Black people's responsibility to show compassion to people that want us dead. Yes the Doctor helps the baddies bc they care. But they're aren't ignorant to prejudice. The liberal anti racism of who is so jarring and why I still think Thin Ice is performative. When white people are angry at injustice it's radical. When it's Black people we're aggressive.
Respectability politics is a tool of white supremacy. That if one pleads and is nice enough they can earn liberation. What would white fans think of Fifteen if he DIDN'T beg Lindy? If your allyship with Black people depends on showing kindness to racists you are NOT an ally.
Next up is Ricky. It was established ALL Finetime citizens have white supremacist views yet Ricky September stans refuse to see him in any negative light. Just like Joan Redfern white dw fans refuse to see racism if a character is likeable. If nice guy Ricky's a racist, then anyone no matter the niceness can be racist too and that's a pill white fans aren't ready to swallow. If racism is systemic and not about individual character, then what's keeping them safe? What happens when YOU are under the microscope.
THIS is why we NEED Black writers in Doctor Who. The nuances, depth and complexity of the Black experience can only be told at it's best by Black creatives and not guessed, assumed or spoken over by white fans and white writers. It's okay to put ego aside and say you don't get it.
"Im white but I loved the Doctor's reaction" "I'm white and i thought the racism commentary was great" "I'm white but i-" Yet again, we have to sit through another round of white and non Black fans of colour dictating Black representation for us. I'm so fucking tired man. AGAIN IM YELLING FROM MY HILLTOP TO WATCH SHOWS BY BLACK WRITERS. Almost EVERY single theme in Dot and Bubble and frankly most of the show has been done WAY better in other media. RTD is not the authority on Black stories. We are. Always have been and always will.
Tl;dr Dot and Bubble is an unserious and tacky racism commentary. It's core message is drowned by more RTD Who camp. Don't tell me this episode was good at representating my own experience. It wasn't. S15 having Black writers isn't a need it's a must. Goodbye.
#dw spoilers#doctor who spoilers#doctor who#rtd2 era#rtd2#antiblackness#fandom antiblackness#racism#fandom racism#rtd critical#anti rtd#fifteenth doctor#dw negativity#doctor who season 1#dot and bubble
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You know, the Stolitz scene was a trainwreck as a whole (they usually are), but what honestly got me most was the way Blitz started pleading when he thought his livelihood was going to be taken away.
THIS IS NOT A STOLAS SLANDER POST. I'm coming from a place where I've seen Blitz being mostly, if not entirely blamed for their lack of communication most of the time.
Moving on...
People keep going like "Well if imps are so low in the hierarchy..." - Let's take a break to think. Blitz isn't rich, he's just getting by really. And how is he getting by?
By prostituting himself. To the upper class.
That's what it is, he's a certified whxre. Things may have evolved in the meantime, but that's how it started. Blitz got asked for the deal while being chased by a crazy lady and him, wanting to keep his business and livelihood, said yes, obviously.
Now Stolas was suddenly taking the book back with no apparent explanation (until they got to the crystal), so of course Blitz thought he was doomed. On a side note, why couldn't Stolas say "You won't need the book, I have an alternative" instead of the ominous "I'll need the book back, permanently. I have made up my mind." I would be scared out of my mind.
He teared up immediately and started pleading, you could already see what was going through his head. He won't have the means to support his business anymore, to pay his employees, to afford a home, he'll be homeless and have no means to take care of Loona. Everyone will leave him again and he will starve on the streets all alone.
He'd do anything to be able to live a life a bit better than miserable, of course he would.
And this brings me to Stolas's treatment of Blitz. I see that everything tends to fall on Blitz, and I'm not saying he has no fault (in fact I didn't even like him at the beginning of the series too much), but Stolas treated him like a peasant. Just the episode before Ozzie's he's called him his "impish little plaything" and asked for a reward for the rescue. He put out cigarettes on his horns, he ignored his "stop" most times, he addressed him in this little baby voice with babying diminutives. "Itty bitty" imp.
And I am sure Stolas is socially clueless. He was brought up alone and sheltered, taught to be a prince first and foremost.
Stolas probably saw this as playful banter, as something that is inoffensive, silly. It was only in the Ozzie's episode that he finally saw that actually, his silly play served to make Blitz feel smaller.
And of course in this scenario, Blitz would see this coming out of the nether. He reacted quite badly, but why would this prince be actually in love with him? As he said, he needed to have a minute (or several) to think about everything. They needed to talk this out, and Blitz was about to apologize when Stolas cast him out.
They were both emotionally charged. They fucked up. But I can see Blitz's side. And the power imbalance is so evident, that hierarchy that everyone keeps saying is irrelevant - in a moment's notice, he could have his life swept from underneath him. Just like he thought it happened in that split moment; it worried him so much that he cried and pleaded (and that's not in Blitz's character to do).
And then he was so scared of not being enough too, ugh, his little "I can always do better!". He's so used to everyone just seeing him as a lost cause, better to be discarded. With this amalgamation of things, no wonder he can't believe Stolas would have feelings for him.
So uh, I don't know what the conclusion to this is. Normalize getting imps some actual comfort? So far the only really privileged imp in Helluva Boss is Fizz after getting rid of Mammon. And when I say priviledged, I'm referring to wealth and upper class, not taking into account personal issues such as disability and so forth.
Anyway, this was my two cents on Stolitz. I honestly haven't thought too much on them, I'm riding on the Fizzarolli high. I'm chill over here in my Fizzmodeus bubble, but doesn't mean I have no thoughts on Stolitz.
#Blitzo#Stolas#Stolitz#Helluva Boss#Helluva Boss full moon#full moon#the certified trainwreck of Helluva Boss#I'm so chill in the house of Asmodeus
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another really well-designed visual storytelling element of dot and bubble is the decision to have the fifteenth doctor star in it wearing his “doctoriest” costume yet. doctor outfits vary, of course, but a unifying trait is some kind of suit/smart-casual style and long jacket — subverted in many cases, obviously, but even thirteen wears the long hoodie and suspenders, and twelve’s punk fits still follow roughly the same template, nine has his leather jacket doing the job — whereas fifteen has most noticeably stepped outside that mold for the past few episodes, starting with the kilt and open-shouldered vest (!) in TCORR, then the t-shirts and, in general, far less rigidity.
but in Dot and Bubble, you take one look at this man and know: he’s the Doctor. which is why it creates such a powerful feeling of juxtaposition — all this ‘Doctor-aura’ posturing that usually works on side characters straight away completely fails to have any kind of effect in the face of unabashed, impenetrable bigotry. the clothing is a kind of uniform, it provides reassurance that this man *is* the doctor, that he’s come to rescue you, that he’s the same person he’s always been. but not to the residents of finetime.
since time immemorial (the second doctor’s era, but maybe even earlier, i haven’t seen much hartnell so correct me if i’m wrong) the doctor’s been asked — “why am i talking to you, why am i telling you my secrets?” and he’s always replied that he has a “face you can trust”. it’s time lord magnetism. people are naturally drawn to him. he commands a room. people begin to follow his orders because they know on some primal, innate, subconscious level that this entity is going to help them survive and make their existence better.
which is why it’s so jarring when they don’t. the racism, privilege and prejudice that clouds their eyes is genuinely so strong that it almost works like a perception filter, blocking out the doctor’s natural charisma, his bottomless kindness, all of the superhuman qualities that make him irresistible. they don’t see the charming 2000-year-old Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey that is going to “save their lives and everyone else’s”, long jacket fluttering out behind him as he runs, holding his hand outstretched like a beacon of hope. they see a Black man and nothing else, and that puts him beneath them no matter what he says, no matter what he does, how he proves that *he’s the Doctor*. to fascists, race stands above everything. you can be accomplished, talented, wise, clever, brilliant, but to them, the simple fact of the colour of your skin renders you unworthy. and that’s why they’re beyond saving.
#doctor who#dot and bubble#doctor who meta#doctor who analysis#dw meta#ncuti gatwa#fifteen#fifteenth doctor#dw#doctor who series 14#ruby sunday#costume design#costume analysis#russell t davies#the doctor#kitty.txt
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vi. morning confessional - t.w.
pairing: female driver! x toto wolff
word count: 2.5k
warnings: i typed this entire chapter on my phone while i was at work, so if there are any spelling errors, oopsies! cursing, age gaps, power imbalances, yearning, tons of yearning, oral (f! receiving), mentions of sex, teasing, slight praise kink, slight size kink, yadayadayada
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rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, causing you to stir. scrunching your nose, a yawn takes hold. at the action, his arms instinctively pull you in closer, smothering your face in his chest.
“good morning.”
“good morning beautiful girl,” his voice is thick with sleep, and oh so sexy, “how did you sleep?”
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“better than usual.”
“me too,” soft lips connect with your temple, “what time is it?”
yawning once more, you roll over, plucking your phone off the nightstand.
“8:38 a.m.”
“shit.”
“somewhere to be?”
“yes,” the team principal groans, rubbing his eyes, “unfortunately i am running very late for it. i’ll just let my assistant know i can’t make it.”
“oops,” you shrug, collapsing back into his arms, “why can’t you just stay every night?”
“you know why, schatzi,” he murmurs, squeezing you, “this is going to be a long two weeks.”
“awww,” you tease, ruffling his hair, “is someone going to miss me?”
“you have no idea.”
“we’ll be in japan. that will surely be exciting,” you begin to run your hand through his hair, melting as his lashes flutter.
“and you know what comes after japan.”
“miami,” you suck in a breath, “that still gives me some time to consider everything.”
“just don’t overthink it,” one eye opens, “if you overdo it, you’ll start to reconsider every little thing.”
“i know,” you exhale, “it’s just overwhelming. i don’t like disappointing people either.”
“oh i know,” toto leans in, the tip of his nose brushing yours, “you tend to put on this facade that you’re selfish, doing things only for your gain. however, i have learned that deep down, you’re a huge people pleaser. that’s why you’ve been dragging your feet in giving me your answer. you don’t want hurt james. you don’t want to disappoint the team. most of all, you don’t want to face the backlash that will follow.”
your lower lip trembles, tears welling up in your eyes. they threaten to spill over, and his brows furrow, “oh schatzi, i didn’t mean to hurt your—“
“no,” you sniffle, “i just hate that you’re right.”
“you don’t have to spend your life pleasing others, you know,” his arms engulf you in an embrace, rubbing circles on your back as you weep into his chest, “you’re allowed to make decisions for yourself. you need to do what you feel is best.”
“but there’s just one thing that i can’t shake,” the words are barely coherent, but he hears them anyway.
“and that is?” he inquires, kneading into your shoulder blades.
“i want to be with you at mercedes. i’m just scared that if something happens between us, i’ll regret my decision.”
“us?”
your eyes snap open, panic settling in, “i-i, um, i — i didn’t mean anything by that, i just—“
“you want an us?” fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head to meet his gaze.
“i-i mean,” your voice falters, “isn’t it inevitably going to happen if we keep seeing one another? one of us is going to develop feelings and we’re going to—“
lips crash into yours, nearly knocking the wind out of your lungs. it’s a passionate kiss, needy and brimmed with hunger. fingers tangle in your hair, tugging at the roots as you whimper, his tongue licking along your lower lip. he sucks on it, the hand on your back delving lower and lower, gripping the curve of your ass.
a noise rumbles in the base of this throat as you suck on his tongue, the kisses growing sloppier and messier by the second. the noise is guttural, almost like a growl.
he pulls away momentarily, panting slightly, “who is to say that the feelings aren’t already there?”
“toto you don’t—“
“i do,” shifting his weight, he pins you to the bed, “like i said, i didn’t have a crush. i can’t stop thinking about you. every single time i think about racing, or my drivers, or even mercedes in general, my thoughts wander to you.”
as he takes you in, you can’t help but gaze into his eyes, your hand reaching out. fingers brush his cheek tenderly, tracing the lines that scoured his face. his lashes flutter at your touch, his chest heaving as your fingertips wander, memorizing every minuscule detail.
your fingertips land on his lips, “i just need to know one thing.”
“what is it, love?”
“this offer, signing me as a driver to mercedes. is it business or is it personal?” preparing for the worst, you feel yourself instinctively shy away.
yet, he isn’t fazed, maintaining eye contact, “do you want my honest answer?”
“of course i do.”
“personal. completely personal,” there’s a glint in his mocha depths, an emotion you couldn’t quite read.
“ever since i saw that photo of you, signing that contract with williams, i knew i wouldn’t be able to resist you. i tried, i really tried to maintain my distance. to stay away. but i can’t. there’s something about you that draws me in. i don’t quite know what, but i know that i need you by my side. at mercedes, where i can make you a world champion. my world champion. i would make my golden girl a world champion.”
“toto,” you begin, but he continues, pressing a finger to your mouth.
“yes, it would be good for mercedes to sign on a driver with your talent. our reputation would benefit. you have the qualities of a mercedes driver. but this isn’t about business. this is personal. it always has been. it always will be.”
“i-i,” you stutter, the temperature of the room elevated as toto’s mouth inches closer and closer to yours, “i don’t know—“
“you don’t have to say anything right now,” his voice is low and thready, consumed with desire, “i know it’s a lot. there’s a lot to consider and a lot at stake. but for now, just focus on me. can you do that for me baby?”
nodding meekly, anticipation takes a hold as he lowers his head, mouth connecting with your heated skin. the kisses travel further and further down, his hands finding yours, intertwining your fingers together.
“so beautiful,” he whispers, “so, so, so breathtaking.”
“so are you—“
a moan fills the space as his mouth envelops your clit through your panties. he groans at your reaction, knuckles turning white as you squirm, gripping your hands tightly.
“take them off, please.”
“so you do beg,” he taunts, his breath hot as it fans against your inner thighs, “what do you need again, schatzi?”
“i need you,” you whimper, dripping with desire, “i need you, toto wolff.”
“i’ll take care of you baby,” his pupils are dilated, blush tinging his cheeks, “just relax, and let me take care of you.”
at the sight of you beneath him, aching for his touch, toto nearly unravels.
was he dreaming? or was this heaven?
god, you were so fucking beautiful like this. all needy and desperate. between your thighs, he couldn’t help but notice the wet spot pooling in your panties. goosebumps riddled your arms and legs, yet your skin was so soft and warm.
you were practically inviting him in.
and how could he resist?
“is this okay?” the team principal tugs on the hem of your panties.
“yes,” the corners of his lips curl into a smirk at your quick response, “please, toto.”
dragging the fabric down your legs, he relishes how they glow in the morning light.
every part of you was so beautiful. every. single. part.
“open your legs,” strong hands grasp your thighs, the command sending a shiver down your spine, “i need to see that perfect pussy.”
you can’t help but obey, shielding your face instinctively as he situates himself, mouth merely centimeters from your drenched pussy.
if your body was an altar, toto was prepared to worship, savoring and praising every inch of you until there was nothing left.
“don’t hide,” he tuts, “i want you to watch.”
“but—“
a hand, your hand, covers your mouth as his tongue delves between your folds, your back arching. fingertips dig into your hips, holding you in place.
toto was a starving man. and fuck, did you taste so fucking good.
he couldn’t get enough, the tip of his nose brushing against your clit as his tongue explores every inch of you. his tongue applies pressure to your clit as he sucks lightly, swirling in circles as you buck your hips.
“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”
toto didn’t have to ask if you were close. he could sense it, the way your muscles were beginning to tense up. the way your hips rocked back and forth, practically riding his tongue. the way your voice was growing louder and louder, yearning for more and more.
already this close and he had barely even started?
fuck, was he going to have fun with you.
“toto,” there it was again, his name from your lips, “toto, i’m going to — you’re going to make me cum.”
“you deserve it,” he pulls away, mouth and chin glistening, “you deserve it baby. cum for me. be a good girl and cum for me.”
the words coax you to the edge, and you feel a finger wedge its way into your tight hole, your walls stretch, adjusting to the size of his finger. just as you get used to one, he shoves another inside, pumping them in and out, curling once they’re inside.
the euphoria crashes over you like a tidal wave as his mouth plants kisses over your clit, practically making out with your pussy. you feel your walls close in, the pleasure wound up tightly in your lower abdomen.
“toto,” you’re almost breathless, “i-i’m going to cum.”
moans flood toto’s ears as you orgasm, your thighs squeezing against his ears. your muscles twitch and shudder, juices dribbling down his chin.
pressing one last kiss to your pussy, he catches his breath, wiping his chin.
before you know it, two fingers are pressed against your lips, “taste yourself.”
opening wide, your tongue dances along the digits, licking them clean. toto watches in awe, a fiery hunger burning within.
it took every fiber of his being not to just spread you open again, filling you up, claiming you.
claiming what was rightfully his.
“oh my god,” you exhale, scrambling to muster a single coherent thought, “that was—“
“you’ll get more.”
your back meets with the mattress once again, hands on your head, “holy shit.”
“never had a man make you cum like that before?” you want to slap the smug smirk off his face.
but you stop yourself, feeling a frown form as he plucks his clothes off of the floor, shoving his legs into his slacks.
“leaving so soon?”
“i have to go,” relief ripples from your head to your toes as you sense his disappointment. he was just as upset to go, “i want to stay baby, but i have about sixty-two missed calls and seventy texts. they’re wondering where i am and i need to get going.”
“that’s all right,” reaching for own phone, you wonder if you were in a similar predicament.
you couldn’t quite remember, but you were sure you had missed a few meetings. one of them was more than likely with the press. one was probably a team meeting before the next destination.
“what’s going to be your excuse?”
toto pauses momentarily, leaning over to give you a swift peck, “the answer is simple. they won’t get one. they don’t need to know where i was.”
“someone’s grumpy,” you giggle as you notice the prominent frown.
“yeah i am.”
“and why’s that?” you arch a brow.
“because i want to fuck the shit out of you,” the casual delivery has you reeling, your heart fluttering as he shoves his arms into his dress shirt.
“i want to watch you cum again and again and again. but i can’t. i have to go about my day as if i didn’t just taste pure ambrosia on my tongue. i have to sit there and answer phone calls, emails, my team, and act like nothing ever happened.”
“is it hard for you?”
“of course it’s hard,” toto runs a hand through his hair, and you pick out the tightness of his jaw as he speaks, “i want to tell someone. i want to tell someone how the most beautiful woman in the world has me wrapped around her finger. how i’m putty in her hands. but i can’t.”
“toto, i—“
“i hate to interrupt you,” he crosses over to the bed once again, scooping you up in his embrace, “but i really have to go. i’ll text you, okay? maybe we can rendezvous at some point in these next few weeks. i’ll fly you out. you wouldn’t have to pay a single penny.”
“okay,” you nod, inhaling his scent one last time, attempting to memorize the way his arms feel around your frame. it was far too quick, toto pulling away, tousling your hair.
“be a good girl for me. i’ll see you soon.”
“i’ll see you soon, toto.”
and just like that, he was gone.
biting your lip, you curl up on the mattress, throwing the comforter over your body.
you shouldn’t cry. not over this.
but why did you feel that urge? why was it becoming increasingly more difficult to focus on anything other than the team principal?
yeah, you had a crush on him. that was years ago, when you were a teenager. that was innocent, a young girl swooning over a man nearly three times her age.
now, that crush was developing into something much more. something far more complex that you could have ever imagined.
you were falling head over heels for toto wolff, whether you liked it or not.
and you couldn’t fight it, no matter how hard you tried to push those feelings away. you had tried to seal them away in a box, throwing out the key.
somehow toto had found that damn key.
he was the key, really.
and who knew what would happen if you opened the lid to that box.
however, there were far more pressing matters.
picking up your phone, you scroll through your messages, notifications, and emails.
there was nothing too crazy you missed, just a quick debrief before you all left for home for the next week or so.
although, one particular text caught your eye.
it was james, sent about fifteen minutes ago.
good morning, american girl! i’m not sure if you’re aware, but the fia has made their decision concerning your tussle with george. it’s not good, but it’s not bad either. i figured you were probably not feeling up to the team meeting since you got pretty banged up from the crash. get some rest, then give me a call when you can.
also, is there a reason why toto wolff approached me yesterday? he was asking about your contract. do you have any idea what that was about?
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taglist: @toldyouitwasamelodrama @nebarious @whoisss @kravitzwhore @prettiest-at-the-party @persona1lies @zoeyjadetice2010
let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! thank you for reading! <3
#f1#toto wolff#toto wolff x reader#formula 1#formula one#f1 x reader#toto wolff smut#toto wolff x you#toto wolff x y/n#formula one x you#formula one x reader#f1 x female reader
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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 008 ]
“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”
c/w. modern royal au. infidelity. angst. gaslighting. toxic characters. toxic relationships. mentions of neglect and abuse. hurt and comfort. unedited.
notes. thank you to everyone who waited patiently, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter <3 this will be the beginning of kiyoomi arc!
wc. 11k
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[ EIGHT ] all they keep asking me is if I’m gonna be your bride – the only kind of girl they see is a one-night or a wife
The Kingdom of Inarizaki was at a loss whether to celebrate the early return of the latest married couple from their honeymoon. The couple seemed to be doing great – according to the tabloids, anyway. When they arrived, the Princes and their wives waved to the people, all eager for a glimpse of the infamous couple who had married for love. For two years, society had their eyes on you – the shy, reserved noblewoman who caught the eye and heart of their one and only Crown Prince Suna Rintaro. And oh, what a wedding it was, broadcasted all over the world and celebrated like a holiday.
What the world didn’t know was that it was an entirely different story behind the Palace walls.
You may share a bedroom, but never the bed. You’d been acquainted with the couch for the next few nights, only seeing your husband once in the mornings before he left to do his duties, and every now and then when the Queen wanted to have dinner. Not that you were complaining – the space was most appreciated. Without Suna lingering, there’d be less reminders of how much of a fool he took you. A naïve, young woman who really deluded herself into believing a Prince could want her. Although…
Suna didn’t not want you, either.
In the few spaces in between, he would look for you. He would make small talk and ask if you’ve eaten. If you liked breakfast, which was a silly question, since it was always tea and waffles. If you enjoyed yourself while he was away, this, again, was a silly question. You spent the mind–numbing hours blaming yourself for being in this predicament. That, perhaps, if you had just been brave to walk away that night you found out the truth, then you wouldn’t be out here wondering if the maids’ whispers were true – that Suna spent most of his nights at Belleview Manor, because quote unquote, “he was unwelcome in his own quarters.”
As if somehow it was your fault he did not feel comfortable to sleep under the same roof with you.
Sighing, you flipped your novel closed. No one had given you official duties yet, other than the blatantly obvious one of giving the Crown Prince an heir. ‘They will have such sleepless nights!’, the Queen’s goons crooned. ‘So young and virile, they are, we’ll have a new Crown Prince in no time!’ Oh, if only it were that easy. If there were to be a Prince, Iris would most likely be the mother, considering he saw her more often than you did. And how funny of a thought that was – you wanted distance from him, yet something died inside you little by little the colder your room got.
“Since we have returned, my schedule will be full.”
You glanced up from where you sat. Suna had sauntered back into the room, his tie loosened; hair messed up like he ran his fingers through it several times. Already, a servant stood beside him to comb his hair back neatly. You couldn’t help but stare. How long had it been since you combed his hair for him? You knew he hated it when they gelled it back. He preferred it messy and unkempt, saying his bedroom hair felt most natural. The bedroom hair he’s shown only to you in the quiet breaks of the night when he was in your bed.
The bedroom hair Iris had seen, as well.
Just the thought of it forces a smile on your face. Standing up, you brushed off the imaginary dust off your skirt. Less than a week in the Palace, and you were already so miserable. You could at least try to look less bothered by his unrequited affections.
“Do what you must.”
Once his hair had been brushed to perfection, Suna gestured for his servant to step away. The man politely bowed down before exiting the room. “I mean to say,” he continued, stepping closer now that there was no one else around. Your breath hitched the closer he got, but you dared not move, not even when his warm, familiar hand cups the curve of your cheek. “The meetings I must attend and people to deal with will take up most of my time.”
You knew what he was trying to say – that he wouldn’t be around, and you had to entertain yourself in his absence. Gently, you take a step back from his touch, watching as an unreadable expression crosses his face.
“And as I have said, do what you must. I have my own duties to fulfill as well.”
“You do not sound bothered by this.”
“Why should I be?” you shrugged, “If I am to be stuck with you for the rest of my life, surely I can enjoy what little time left I have for myself.”
Suna’s lips thinned. “You could act a little less eager to get rid of me.”
“On the contrary, I have no intention of leaving.”
“So I will see you tonight?”
“If we run into each other at the palace, yes, yes you will.”
If he seemed discontent with your half–hearted response, he did not show it. Must be the practiced regality and composure befitting for a Crown Prince like him – all lazy, yet wary, watching eyes. He, too, must know the true meaning behind your words. There was no need to pretend.
You both knew Suna would run into Belleview Manor as soon as the night ends, and his duties for the day had been tended to. Meanwhile, his wife would stay up all night in her couch.
Not quite waiting for him, but not quite imagining if he slept better at her side, either.
It was an unspoken deal between you two already. So he leaves without another word, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding when the door finally slams shut.
Tears prick at your eyes for the umpteenth time. You were tired of this. Tired of not knowing where you truly were in his life – were you his wife, his friend? After you’d heard of his passion and dedication to Iris, you weren’t so evil to stop him from seeing her. He loved her first. And you of all people should know the pain of not having the one person you wanted most. To him, she was his unattainable treasure. She was already making him smile before you even came to his life. She was already offering companionship and the comfort he desperately needed in this tiresome world of politics and power. She was his solace in all this chaos.
And you… you were just his wife. And without a baby in your belly, you might as well be just another useless figure in the Palace.
You refused to be so.
You may be worthless to him as his wife, for you truly couldn’t have his heart, but you refused to be a worthless person. Deep down, you knew you weren’t. It was just the title of ‘Princess’ that made you feel incapable and short. Did that mean you weren’t meant to be Princess, then? Should you go back to your manor, learning how to handle the household and managing the family business like your parents taught?
If you were not for Suna, did that mean you were not for the Crown, as well?
You bit your lip in contemplation. There was only one person who could provide you a solution to this.
“It is not every day I am summoned by a Princess,” a smooth, deep voice filtered through the garden. Smiling, you stood up to greet the Third Prince. A curtsy, a bow, and soon you two were sipping tea – the momentary peace a guise of what was to come. Kita must have sensed it, too, his gaze flitting over your pinched face with understanding and patience. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Surely we are not here to discuss the pleasantries of your honeymoon.”
You grimaced. “Definitely not. There were no pleasantries to begin with.”
His face fell.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you… My apologies. I’m not sure how to proceed with this.”
Nodding, you set your tea town. You had a feeling he truly meant his apology, which felt good, seeing as most of the Princes had too much pride to know the word ‘sorry.’ But you hd always known that Prince Kita was unlike the other Princes – he had more honor, and a stronger sense of morality compared to his brothers. Maybe it was due to his being raised by his mother, who was a lawyer, and therefore was not so exposed to the greed and competition experienced by the other Princes.
Whatever it was, he was just different. And you could rely on him to be truthful, too.
“Have you always known about them?” you muttered, refusing to look at the Prince’s face in fear of being met with pity. That was the last thing you wanted – to be seen as the poor, unwanted wife. “Iris and Rintaro?”
“I have.”
“I see.”
Kita sighed. “Please don’t misunderstand, Princess. I never meant to keep it from you. None of us did – except for those truly involved. It was just… I grew up with them, too. Keiji and I were only a year ahead of Rintaro and Iris. When I heard the Crown Prince had become acquainted with a foreign royal scholar, we didn’t think too much of it. Her sudden marriage with Kiyoomi surprised us all, and none of us would’ve thought that her friendship with Rintaro would turn into something more.”
“You don’t need to explain all of this to me, Your Highness.”
“Perhaps, but…” reaching over the table, the Prince squeezed your knuckle. You chuckled, not having realized you’d balled up your hands into a fist. It turned out you couldn’t fool anyone, not even yourself, to act like you didn’t care how much it all hurt. “I do not want you to think I am not on your side.”
“You do not need to be on my side. He is your brother.”
“Blood means little to me when my own kind is cruel to others,” he retorted, looking offended you would suggest otherwise. “I have always been against it, Princess. I told him from the beginning that to covet one’s brother’s wife is one thing, but to involve someone else, all for his selfish reason of ascending a throne that was always rightfully his just seemed heartless.”
Heartless. Gods. To know that your husband was capable of being cruel was one thing, but to hear it coming from his own brother’s lips was another.
“But Rintaro is Rintaro. Of course he is stubborn.”
“Indeed, he is,” Prince Kita sighed in defeat, leaning back against his seat as he stroked his chin in thought. “Princess, while I cannot guarantee I can take all of your woes away, I want you to know you can trust me. If there is anything you need, let me know and I will do it for you. It’s the least I can do to make your stay here in the Palace tolerable.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I do, and I am a man of my word.”
“Then I suppose there’s no point beating around the bush,” you gritted your teeth, forcing the words to come out.
It had always been a lingering thought at the back of your mind – to leave Rintaro – but there was this prideful, equally stubborn voice at the back of your head telling you it was too early to give up. That you needed to fight. But what was there to fight for? It wasn’t like Rintaro would learn to love you. And neither do you plan on wooing him. So, instead, you swallowed up your pride and called for Kita, knowing he would never judge you for the choices you were about to make.
“I actually called for you today because I wish to discuss royal marital laws, possibly with your mother. She would know about it best.”
“You need legal counsel,” he caught on, and you nod, “I can arrange that. I assume you want it discreetly, too. That is no problem at all. But if I may be bold, I wish to ask something from you in return.”
“Name your price.”
“It is about this maid that I am fond of. Airi,” her name came out breathily from his mouth, almost like a whisper. You noticed the Prince glancing around the empty garden almost warily, though you already took measures to ensure no one would be around to witness this conversation. Reassured, Kita sat up straighter and looked you in the eye, nothing but sincerity and determination in his expression. “I will do anything you ask of me, as long as it is within legal reasons, if you take her in as your personal maid.”
“I’ve heard rumors about you having affections for a maid in your quarters,” you mumbled, feeling almost sorry for the kind–hearted Prince. It seemed he, too, did not escape the heartbreaking torment for falling for a person you could never have. “So it is true, after all.”
“It is. You seem surprised about it. Is it so shocking to learn of a Prince having genuine feelings for another?”
You shook your head. “Not at all. I think I should know best that passion is something you brothers certainly have,” you snort, and Kita fights back a grin. “Very well, then. I will take care of your lovely maid, although I do wish to know – why are you assigning her to me? Have you… done anything to stain her honor?”
The color seeped out of the Prince’s face.
“I would never do such a thing.”
“I figured you wouldn’t.”
Kita’s shoulders squared before he exhaled. “Airi is… Ever since I set my sights on her, she has been in danger. People have been very unkind towards her, especially with the staff in my quarters. And as much as I would love having her by my side in my every waking hour, it would break my heart to know that she is being looked down upon simply because I admire her. But I figure with her at your side, with a new assignment, she will have some peace.”
Your heart ached for him. You could tell this was not an easy decision to make, but a necessary one if he wanted to ensure his lover’s well-being.
“You can still see her, Your Highness. It’s not like I will take her away from you.”
“I wouldn’t let you, either, but these are very difficult times for everyone in the Palace. The security of the throne weakens every day. The Parliament is restless, and there is only so little I can do with all these failed unions,” he rattled on, eyes widening when he realized it too late. Bowing his head, the Prince’s brows furrowed. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to–”
“Our marriage is not a failed union. Not yet. I will make certain it will not be a failure.”
It couldn’t be a failure. There was only one way out of this dreadful marriage, and as much as you hated it, that exit only existed in a path where you had no choice but to let him be a great King. This is why you need Kita’s mother’s counsel. Surely there could be a loophole in the clause that would invalidate the marriage. But until that opportunity presents itself, you were stuck here in this Castle, surrounded by everyone but your husband.
You had to make it work.
“With all due respect, Princess,” sighs the Prince, looking more remorseful than irritated. “Why is it that you try so hard? You do not need to stay with him, you know. It may be against the law for royal marriages to be annulled, but surely we can find a way. You do not need to torture yourself by spending one more day with your husband.”
“I know that.”
“Then why do you stay?”
“Because,” you croaked out, feeling a lump grow in your throat. “Because loving him is all I had known, and perhaps it is time I learn to despise him, as well.”
Silence stretches. The prince sat there, unmoving, as your words hang in the thick air between you two. You knew he would understand; he wouldn’t judge. But there is still concern in his handsome features that made you realize how pitiful you really are. And maybe there was no one else to blame but yourself, because you were foolish, and in love. But you were trying – by the Gods, you really were doing your best – to just be in love and not have to be foolish anymore.
Kita could see this as well. Your strength, your grit. He could see everything from where he sat, and that was why he simply nodded. “Are you getting there yet?”
“I will get there someday.”
Before the Prince could say anything else, a servant appeared from the bushes. He looked sheepish upon the intrusion, an apologetic smile on his face directed to the Prince. “Your Highness. It is time for your lessons.”
The Prince sent you a knowing look. This was not to be the last time you see each other, and you smiled up at him, grateful. It felt good to have at least one person you could lean on in the Palace. You stood up, too, shaking his hand just as his servant excused himself. If your memory did not fail you, the Third Prince studied law outside of the Palace and had to attend university, unlike his brothers who had chosen to indulge in their promised wealth after graduating high school.
“Excuse me, Your Highness. I have matters to attend to, but my words still ring true – I am only a call away should you need me.”
“Thank you so much for your time, my Prince.”
“It was my pleasure. I will inform you right away of my mother’s availability.”
“Oh, and Princess,” piped up the servant from somewhere around the bushes, “Princess Maiko is looking for you. She is waiting for you in her drawing room.”
You should’ve expected that Princess Maiko would come looking for you. The whole ordeal she witnessed back at your rest house must have come as a shock for her. Sure, her marriage didn’t go so well, either, but at least Tooru hadn’t gone around sleeping with someone else. For a man who didn’t want to get married, he kept to his vow of loyalty to his wife. Still, you didn’t want this to be a competition on who had it worse – Maiko was simply worried, and you had to explain yourself for your untoward behavior on everyone’s getaway.
“Princess! Oh my gosh – how are you?! I was worried sick!”
“Princess,” you return her hug, smiling despite the fact the smaller Princess had a bone–crushing grip. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you, I am well.”
“Oh, Princess, you couldn’t be,” she pulled back with tears in her eyes. You almost apologized on the spot now that you remembered demanding to return to the City without informing the others why. Especially not Maiko, who seemed to be clueless. “I… I heard from Tooru about everything. The entire situation with Iris and the Crown Prince – truly, I did not know a single thing. If I had, I would have told you right away.”
“I know, and I’m thankful for your support.”
You squeeze her hand in reassurance, and the Princess leads you to sit on the couch. She slumps on it rather ungracefully, her innocent, wide eyes moist as she shakes her head.
“I had no idea Iris could do that. I just… the moment she arrived in the palace, she was so lovely, you know? She was always a little reserved, and liked to keep to herself, but I never would’ve guessed. I truly thought she was a good friend of mine, and now I have no idea who she really is.”
“Neither did I.”
“How are you, though? And please, tell me the truth. You do not need to pretend all is well.”
You shrug half-heartedly. “I am the Crown Prince’s wife. I must learn to be strong.”
“You mustn’t torture yourself any longer,” she licks her lips, chuckling without a trace of humor in it. “Although I do not blame you for staying in a marriage without love,” she smiled sadly, holding your hand firmer where it sat on her lap. “What do you plan to do?”
“I will divorce him,” you announced, and finally saying it loud felt different than just having the thought float in your head. It now felt like a reality. A choice you had to be firm in making. Licking your lips, you couldn’t help but glance at the beautiful wedding ring sitting on your finger – how just like your marriage, it is sparkling yet meaningless.
Leaving him would be the right choice. It would not mean you were weak.
“Once I meet with Kita’s mother and work our way around the law… I’m going to leave him. If it is a proper marriage he wants, then it is the one thing he will not get,” braving to look her in the eyes, you force a determined smile. “I believe it is the right thing to do, Your Highness. I must pick my battles wisely.”
“I understand, and I support you if this is what you want to do.”
“Thank you, Princess.”
“Although…”
“Although?”
“I still find it hard to believe,” she quipped, momentarily letting go of your hand as she stood up, pacing around the room. Her dark hair, neatly braided and adorned with headpieces, slowly started falling into curled pieces around her delicate face with how fast she’d been pacing. Almost as if her feet couldn’t quite keep up with her thoughts. “Iris and Kiyoomi had been married for five years, and Tooru told me they’d loved each other long before then. I am aware I am not the best at reading the room, but surely I am not so foolish to miss the love in their eyes. I would have known, Your Highness, I swear.”
You smile, confused. “I… am not sure I understand what you mean.”
“I mean Iris never looked in love,” she reiterated. “Granted, she was never affectionate with Kiyoomi, so that much is clear, but with the Crown Prince? They barely even speak to each other.”
“You couldn’t have known if they did spend time together,” you told her as softly as you could, “I heard they often hid in Belleview Manor, away from the eyes of the public.”
“But I live here,” she argued, and you stopped trying to butt in. For such a small thing, you had already learned once Maiko had her head set on something, almost nothing could stop her. “I live in Honor Hall, just five minutes away from them! I could have heard something. And on the few times I do see them together, Iris had always seemed… walled off. If Rintaro was able to display his affections openly, Iris was not the same. That night you weren’t at the house, they did not seem like a happy couple to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
Maiko shook her head again, causing more curls to loosen. “They seemed familiar with each other, but not intimate. It was almost as if they were lovers purely in the bedroom, but they couldn’t have known each other’s heart,” her eyes lit up, before it dimmed again when she took in your somber expression. “I do not mean to give you false hope, Princess, but believe me. I know a man in love when I see one, and it is not the Crown Prince with Iris. But… but when you were not married yet, everyone could tell the Crown Prince smiled more. He laughed often, too, and he even spent more time with his brothers.”
“Well, that is only natural. He has a lot of siblings. Of course he would enjoy their company.”
“No, no, you do not understand, Princess. The Crown Prince… didn’t grow up that way,” she bit her lip, and then scooted next to you. “As the only son of the King and Queen, he was already more important than the rest. Because of that, he was raised differently – away and isolated from his brothers. He was always tutored alone, and never played with the other Princes. He spent his childhood locked up in his study, but then the Queen allowed him to attend regular school, and when he graduated… he met you. And I swear, he was different then.”
“Because he already met her,” you remarked, hoping she would stop already. Rintaro does not love you. “He’d become happier because Iris was already in his life.”
“I went to the same school with them; grew up with them. I had crushed on Prince Tooru for so long that I followed wherever he went, and where Tooru was, the Crown Prince would follow. They were born just months apart. And Iris never made the Crown Prince look… look…”
“Look what?”
“Look content,” she finally supplied. “But when the Crown Prince introduced you to us, he had this look on his face. When you spoke to others, he would always be looking at you, listening to your every word. Even when you were not in the same room, he would speak fondly of you. And he even once told me he still could not believe someone as precious as you had been attending the same lousy balls he’d been enduring all his life. He said that if he had met you earlier, he might have never skipped out attending the dances.”
“I don’t know,” your lips trembled, “I do not know what to do, Princess. Hearing of this does not make it any better.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but you must understand,” she squeezed your hand, desperation evident in her tone. “Your husband looks at you the way I wished mine would at me. He may say otherwise, but his eyes cannot lie. He softens when you are around, Princess. That night you did not return home at Greenville, the Crown Prince could not sleep at all. And these past few days…”
“I believe that is enough. I do not wish to hear how he spent his nights at Belleview.”
“He didn’t, Your Highness. The Crown Prince has never even spoken to Iris ever since we returned from your honeymoon.”
Rintaro could count the number of things pissing him off with one hand.
One: You had barely acknowledged his existence the past few days.
Two: Iris wouldn’t stop pulling him into dark, secluded corners in the Castle each time she chanced upon him. Two-point-five: She couldn’t understand he was not in the mood for another one of their trysts.
Three: Kiyoomi skipped another meeting concerning Itachiyama again.
Seriously, Rintaro understood being a Prince was tiresome work. It was not as grandiose as the tabloids made it out to be. Even in his sleep, he sometimes dreamt of paperwork, or he would wake up in the middle of the night with his hands signing off imaginary papers. The pressure was tougher on Kiyoomi, too, because he was expected to be ready to take after Wakatoshi at any time he even faltered – note: the First Prince never did – and to also act as representative for the other territory thanks to his birthright. But his brother was an hermit, and seemed to fear the sunlight, considering he never left his quarters. Or on the rare occasions he did, he would be hiding away in other countries doing who knows what.
He had just finished a meeting with some of the territory leaders regarding a public complaint that the price of goods had gone up, and some daily necessities were now ridiculously overpriced. One of the main suppliers of good livestock and coconuts, Itachiyama, made it even more expensive – not for any good reason, just that their leader loved to remind Inarizaki constantly that they needed him more than he needed the monarchy.
His goading affected his people, and Rintaro has had enough. Kiyoomi could at least try to pretend to be interested in the meetings. Out of all the nine princes, Kiyoomi was the most influential for being a half-blood. The Itachiyama president adored him. He wouldn’t have had to struggle negotiating for prices had he been doing his work. He was the damned mediator between the two countries, for goodness’ sake!
And to make it all worse, his life did not get any better outside the meeting rooms.
No, because his wife was intent on acting like he did not exist. And on the few times he did manage to be in the same space as you without you running off, you always looked through him. Like he wasn’t even a real person. As if he was just an apparition, a ghost in your mind that you could overlook if you tried hard enough.
He already knew you wouldn’t be in your quarters once he returned, but Rintaro still couldn’t help the pang of disappointment washing over him. He chose you to be his future Queen for many reasons, one of them being your wisdom in these kinds of things. You just needed a little encouragement to speak up, but Rintaro was confident you would make a great leader. You had genuine care for your people. You would have been able to help him make the best decisions for everybody – if you would just listen to him. Wasn’t that how marriages work? To share the burden of the Crown together? The Crown was too heavy for one person alone, which is why Kings cannot be crowned without their Queens.
Rintaro couldn’t do it alone. Each day was becoming more challenging for him, and he so desperately wished he could discuss the country’s future with you. He would feel more confident in his choices. He would be more reassured that he was doing the right thing, but it seemed that all he knew how to do lately was fuck everything up.
On his way back, Rintaro stopped trying to look regal. He let his shoulders slump and ran his fingers through his hair again. The gel be damned. Loosening his tie, he rolled his shoulders back and winced at how stiff his back was. Sitting on his ass all day long, having to listen to old men argue back and forth over money, and simultaneously having to deal with a marriage he’d already screwed over – Rintaro just wanted to disappear.
He wanted to return to Greenville.
It was peaceful there. People minded their own business, everyone had their own purpose and reason for waking up each day and there, he could just be himself. Not the Crown Prince, not a young man who had to hurt you for the sake of the throne. He could just… be free.
“Your Highness,” a servant bowed in front of him, keeping a respectful distance but enough to let him know he needed his attention.
“Good evening,” he greeted back, “Have you seen my wife?”
“Her Highness was with Princess Maiko this morning. Last I heard, she has not left the Palace, at all.”
“I see,” Rintaro was already moving towards Honor Hall before his feet could register it. It was a good twenty minute walk, and the chances of running into Iris weren’t miniscule, but it would be worth it. He could use some fresh air, anyway. And he figured with Maiko around, you would be less opposed to spending the evening with him – until he realized Maiko must have known everything, too. How he manipulated you, and left you in the middle of nowhere.
On second thought, having two Princesses who clearly did not welcome him would not make for a great night.
“My Prince!”
Rintaro stopped on his tracks. He had a split second to school his expression to surprise – the good kind – when he came face to face with the last woman he wanted to see.
“Mother,” he greeted, taking her gloved hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles whilst she fanned herself. “I wasn’t informed you would be visiting.”
She waved her fan around. “Oh, I had to nearly knock down the guards when they wouldn’t let me in, but I had to see my daughter. I heard from the news that you came home too early. Well, what is wrong? Is she sick? Does she not like the countryside? Or perhaps there was an emergency you had to attend to?” fanning herself harder, Rintaro’s hand wound at the small of her back to guide the older woman into a nearby seat. “She hasn’t answered any of my calls, and I am worried, my son.”
“Your concern for her will put her at ease, I’m certain,” he reassured, swallowing the uncomfortable lump growing in his throat. “This is just… a difficult time for us, Mother. I fear Her Highness is having doubts about our marriage once she saw how overwhelming the Crown could be. She simply wished to return home because she felt there were things to be done here.”
Your mother sighed and shook her head. “My poor daughter. She always felt the need to prove her worth by working herself to death,” spinning to face him, she pointed her fan in his direction – which would be considered a threat to the Crown Prince, but she was his mother–in–law. Her presence itself was a threat to his life. “Promise me you won’t let her exhaust herself, son. Promise me you’ll take care of her.”
“She is in good hands, Mother, I promise you this.”
Pleased with him, your mother beamed. “I was also… Well, I may be crossing the line, but now that you tell me my poor daughter is anxious about her royal duties, I was planning to hold a ball in her honor. A welcoming ball for the new Princess, of sorts. It should help her integrate into your world better, but still with the comfort of our support.”
“A ball sounds lovely. We can hold it anytime as we are still in our honeymoon period and she will be free for quite some time.”
“That is perfect! I will make the arrangements, then.”
Wearing his best Prince Charming smile, even if he was anything but, Rintaro found himself mindlessly agreeing to everything your mother wanted. He would have to squeeze all these events in his already hectic schedule, but he was not complaining. She was right. You deserved to relax and enjoy yourself. He should know best that having royal titles did not promise a life of gallivanting and endless tea parties. Once your mother had exhausted herself from all the planning, Rintaro escorted her out to the palace entrance, stopping only when your figure appeared from the corner.
Finally, you were looking at him.
But with a glare.
Well, he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“You are a far better actor than I give you credit for – lying to my mother like that.”
“I did not mean to.”
You rolled your eyes, and Rintaro bit his lip. Cute, he thought, but he would never say it out loud. He would simply enjoy the fact you did not push him away, or walk away as if you were scalded when he started walking next to you. For a moment, everything almost seemed normal. Minus the extreme glaring, of course.
“Surely. It’s not like telling her you manipulated me for the past two years was on your to-do list.”
“Do not use that tone on me.”
“I will speak with you however I wish. You do not get to tell me what to do.”
“You are right; I cannot tell you what to do, so do as you please, then,” he surrendered, and you must be surprised by how he easily gave in from the way you froze. Glaring harder, Rintaro bit his cheek, tilting his head to the side as he gazed upon your pretty face. And oh, how badly he wanted to smooth that frown you’re wearing. “I missed you. I have not seen you all day long.”
“Must have been a lovely day for you, then.”
It was hell, actually, was what he wanted to say, but even that did not seem enough to articulate what he truly felt. I missed you, and I’m sorry I hurt you. Please sleep on the same bed with me again. I want to hold you all night long, and your scent calms me. But instead, all that comes out of his mouth was, “It was not lovely at all.”
“Hmm. I’m not Iris.”
“No, you aren’t.”
He agreed wholeheartedly – you were not his lover. Iris would not argue with him like this; in fact, they never argued at all. Whenever they had misunderstandings, they resolved it by taking out their frustrations on the bedroom, and the next day, all would be forgiven and forgotten. It was easier with Iris, in some ways, because with you he actually had to use his words, and he had to say the right ones. Both of which he wasn’t good at, but would try his very best anyway.
“I heard you spent the day with Maiko. How was it? Did you two have fun?”
“As fun as two women suffering at the hands of men who despise them could have.”
Rintaro took a larger step to stand in front of you, his eyes narrowed into slits. “I do not despise you.”
“Really? You made me feel otherwise.”
Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair again, feeling much more exhausted than he did after the meetings ended. “You do not have to make this so difficult, you know. I am trying to fix this.”
The laugh you let out is sardonic, teetering on the edges of borderline angry. But he would take it – because arguments with you were better than having you ignore him, and he would take a thousand more arguments if it meant you talked. He would consume your wrath over your coldness every other day. Even when you cross your arms and look at him like he was the most vile creature to ever walk the Earth – because your eyes are on him, and in that moment, in the middle of another of a hundred hallways in his Palace, there was no one else but you and him. A husband and his wife. A Prince and his Princess.
“Oh, are you now? Because last time I checked, you were still in love with someone else, and I’m still nothing but a pawn in your silly game.”
“I may be in love with someone else, but it was you who I couldn’t get off my mind.”
“Is that supposed to make my heart flutter?”
You reel back as if burnt, and Rintarou couldn’t fathom why your expression hurt him so much. As if his declaration, his vulnerability, of being putty in your hands repulsed you instead of excited you. However, he refused to show he hung desperately to your every word, refused to admit that you held all the power in your hands, not him. So, he plays it off, and flirtingly lifts a brow just to get you even more riled up.
“I was hoping it would.”
“Whatever it is you’re planning, Rintaro, you won’t win.”
His eyes darkened. Suddenly, all self-restraint he previously had had been thrown out the window. The urge to press his lips to you – yes, those same lips scowling at him – becomes all too consuming. He fools himself into taking the heat in your eyes as desire instead of anger. And he takes one step forward, two, then three, until your back hits the wall and his large frame prevents you from escaping. He liked you best here, he realized, under his mercy and staring up at him with your soft lips, pliant and open to release a gasp when he leans in. Closer, closer, only for his lips to meet the skin of your cheek.
Rintaro stifled a disappointed groan.
Masking it with a chuckle, he trailed his lips down your cheek and to your jawline, all the way until he’s inhaling your intoxicating scent – he wants your damned perfume to stick to his skin for days to come so everyone in the Palace knows he is yours. And like a flower, you bloom only to him. Craning your neck and pushing your chest upwards to his despite your resistance, breathing hard and heavy to let him know he wasn’t the only one affected by this.
And by the Gods, he wanted nothing more than to take you in this wall right here and then.
Brushing his lips just above your pulse point, Rintaro smiled. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, and he was certain his was, too, when you began to crumple his shirt in your hands. “I never knew my name could sound so important without the titles attached to it.”
“Wh–what?” your query came out breathily. Not that he could blame you, for his words have also begun to sound more like a whisper.
“Rintaro,” he echoed, nosing your neck to greedily take in more of your scent. If not on his skin, then he will settle for the evidence of you all over his clothes – and damned the servants who dared wash his dress shirt. “Not Prince, not Your Highness. Just Rintaro. It makes me feel like… it is just you and I, husband and wife, as simple as that,” you draw in another gasp just as his fingers start ghosting over your waist, fighting the urge to pin you in place, or to just hold you delicately because he knew he’d broken you enough. Rintaro felt weak, his head dropping in the column of your shoulder. “I truly did miss you. And I do not like how I spent many nights, in our bed, alone.”
“You do not deserve to share a bed with me.”
“I know,” he lamented, and that firm resolve of keeping him at a distance was enough to wake him up. Pushing himself off of you, Rintaro took a solid minute to admire you like this – lips parted, expectant for a kiss, and skin flushed with a thin layer of sweat, with eyes so bewildered he could see himself clearly in the reflection – that he was just a man now, and not really the husband you wanted him to be. Once he had his fill, Rintaro smoothed down the wrinkles you fisted in his shirt and took a step back. “But you do not deserve to sleep in just a couch. Take the bed tonight. I will sleep outside.”
“But that’s–”
“I’m the one who fucked up,” he smirked, sarcasm dripping from his face, “So I should be the one sleeping uncomfortably. I know I cannot tell you what to do, and neither do I plan on ordering you around, but this is the one thing you cannot argue with me on. You will take the bed. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Back to titles. Back to formality. Back to reality.
“Good girl,” he murmured absentmindedly, nodding in the direction of your bedroom. “Let us head back to our quarters. I’m buying you a new dress for the ball first thing in the morning.”
To say Rintaro had changed would be an understatement.
He was a completely different person than your husband in the honeymoon. It was as if… last night’s intimate encounter had brought him back to the Rintaro you fell in love with, but this time it felt different. He felt more intense. Maybe it was the fact that his secrets were now laid out in the open, which could mean his attentive actions toward you no longer held the purpose of winning you over. Maybe now he truly just wanted to spend time with you because he could.
Cancelling his plans for the day, he’d told the servants you were going out shopping, and oh, what a cunning, devilish Prince he is. He knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of him out in public. With so many eyes watching, you spent nearly every second of the day with your arms looped around his, laughing and smiling at every word he said, and not daring to keep your eyes off him lest someone took a photographed and headlined it ‘Newly Married Royal Couple Having Their First Lovers’ Spat In Public.’ No. No, that would be catastrophic. The Queen would be furious.
Here, in public, you were forced to act sweet and touchy with him, to which the stupid Crown Prince basked in as he led you from boutique to boutique. He complimented you on everything, even when you wore a hideous bright orange gown that made even the designer flinch. But in Rintaro’s eyes, you were simply mesmerizing. He even got a suit that matched all of your dresses, claiming that everyone should know he was married to you. Everyone already knew that – the whole world knew – but you didn’t want to burst his bubble.
Aside from having a day off, your husband genuinely did seem to be doing things other than paperwork.
You stopped being kind once you entered the car, however, when the windows had rolled up and you had both stopped waving to the people. Here, it was just the driver and the both of you, and the driver knew better than to comment on whatever happened, anyway. Sighing, you scooted to the other end of the seat, prying yourself off of Rintaro’s tight grip around your waist.
“Drop the act.”
“What act?”
“Oh, please,” you scoffed, taking off your gloves and folding them neatly in your lap. “We are in the privacy of our car. You needn’t pretend any longer.”
“Who said I was pretending?”
You looked at him dead in the eye. “You are not fooling anyone. This was all a PR act – you did not actually mean whatever it is you said to me out there, but worry not. I’ll get out of your hair and divorce you – surely that will make everything easier.”
The way Rintaro’s eyes nearly popped out of his head would be comical if he didn’t look so scared. In a flash, your husband crossed the distance and sat next to you, his hurried movements causing his bangs to fall into his eyes. His large hands began to engulf yours, and you suck in a breath – without the gloves, it felt more intimate. “What divorce?” he chuckled nervously, brushing his lips over your bare knuckles. It was the faintest of touches, only done to appease you, but it still didn’t stop the bolt of heat coursing through your thighs. Gods, it was just so hard trying to stay mad at him.
“You know that’s impossible. Royal marriages are forever. Look, if you truly wish to divorce me, fine. But you know you will have to help me become King first. Once I am crowned, I can write a new law that says royal couples can be separated.”
“You are despicable.”
“I am,” he whined. Whined! Seriously, who was this man? “But I promise you, if you help me, I will let you go. Look, I’ll even find a high–ranking nobleman for you. The best of the best. You wouldn’t have to be lonely anymore. Just… don’t ever mention divorce to me right now. I won’t let you.”
Scoffing, you pull your hands back from his heavenly lips. “You seriously think after everything, loneliness is somehow my biggest issue?” Rintaro opened his mouth to retort, but you shook your head, making yourself small between him and the window seat. You hated it, how helpless you felt, from wanting his touch to being burnt by it. You hated it even more how you couldn’t look him in the eye as you mumbled, “Have you ever thought that maybe I just want to forget you?”
“I do not want you to,” he breathed out, and your eyes snapped shut when you felt his fingers brush over your cheeks. “But I am not so selfish to deprive you of a good thing. You will find someone who can love you better than I could.”
Your heart fell.
“Well, that would be easy. You never loved me to begin with.”
The Crown Prince never spoke again. You both mulled over your silences as you arrived back at the Palace, heading into the bathroom to do your nightly routines. Rintaro was to your left, taking out his razor blade and shaving foam while you stood to his right, lathering on your cleanser and toner. Thankfully, the silence did not feel as heavy as it did on the ride back home, but it was still far from being comfortable. It was only after you’d moisturized and turned to leave the room that Rintaro caught your wrist, glancing down at you with a pleading expression.
“Please. Can we stop fighting? I thought today was fun. Let us not end it hating each other.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, if I ruined your precious day,” you snapped, leaning back to examine how he missed a spot below his jaw. A slight stubble was visible, but you had to stop your hand from reaching out to him. You sighed. “All this space in the Palace and they couldn’t give us separate bathrooms?”
“Traditionally, royal married couples slept in separate rooms. Everything was separate, too, including bathrooms,” he gestured around you, “Perhaps you would’ve liked the old ways.”
Screw it. The small talk is the most awkward thing you have ever experienced.
“…You missed a spot,” you finally mumbled, taking his razor from him and gesturing for him to crouch down so you can reach. “Do you want me to finish it?”
Rintaro, despite his surprise, nodded and obeyed. It must have been uncomfortable for him to slouch, but he did so without complaints. He let you shave him as you saw fit, turning his head side to side, lathering on more foam, and you watched as his shoulders visibly deflated. Eyes fluttering close, Rintaro sighed, the tips of his fingers gingerly tracing circles as they laid beside your hips.
“You will take the bed as discussed,” he reminded, “You will not argue with me on this.”
“Okay,” you answered, because you, too, had no energy for more arguments. Once you were done with him, you wiped off the rest of the foam with a warm, wet towel. You both left the bathroom and went your separate ways – you to your king–sized bed, and him just outside the bedroom and into the lounge room, where you spent the past few nights sleeping. You realized he must not be sleeping well from it because of his large frame, yet Rintaro did not seem to mind.
Just as he was about to close the door, he lingered for a few beats.
“Thank you for going along the happily married couple act today,” he said, lifting his gaze from the carpeted floors to gaze into your eyes. “And for the record, I meant it when I said you looked beautiful.”
Then he turned, and swiftly closed the door, leaving you to be with your thoughts – all filled of him.
It didn’t help that the sheets and pillows still lingered with his scent.
You had your upcoming ball to thank for distracting you from your confusing feelings for your husband. That in itself was such a ridiculous statement, but one that ringed true. After Rintaro’s surprising gentleness, and the revelation from Maiko that he hadn’t spoken at all with Iris, you were now in a dangerous zone called Getting Your Hopes Up. Truly, you should know better. You had known Rintaro for years to know he could be effortlessly charming. He could have you wrapped tight around his finger, smiling like a lovesick fool, only for him to break your heart once more.
If not for that cold, hard truth, you would have invited him to bed with you that night. It seemed too tempting. It felt like the right thing to do. But you didn’t, and you were glad you held back on your desire, because you weren’t sure you could handle another heartbreak.
Especially because these past few days made you realize one thing – that you were still in love with him. The next morning, you found yourself wishing you had woken up next to him, and that was enough to make you avoid your husband all over again. And much to your disappointment, Rintaro stopped trying to chase after you, too, after countless rejections on your part. He had kept his distance, and only spoke with you momentarily when you arrived at your mother’s ball and had to exchange niceties with everyone.
After that, your husband excused himself and spoke with his brothers, but not after your parents couldn’t stop cooing at how adorable you and the Crown Prince were. He handled it with grace; kissing your cheek and thanking them for raising such a wonderful daughter. But the moment your parents became occupied with welcoming other guests, you were now left to entertain the other women in the ball.
Until the music began playing.
Until your song reverberated all across the room.
“This is the song you and the Crown Prince danced to the night you met,” your mother whispered beside you, giggling in your ear. “I requested it specifically for this night. Enjoy the dance with your husband. He’s already waiting.”
True to her word, you could feel Rintaro’s heated gaze on you from across the room. He’d stopped speaking with his brothers – the twins smirking beside him, Akaashi smiling at you softly, Tobio waving enthusiastically while nursing a glass of wine, and Kita firmly hovering from the walls with a concerned frown. Not that you paid attention to them. Your gaze was held by your husband and him only, bewitched as he started walking forward. The crowed parted for him like a true Prince until nothing stood in his way. Everyone smiled, giggling behind their gloves at the apparent ‘romance in the air.’ Beside you, your mother pushed you encouragingly, and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, waiting to see if you would take the Crown Prince’s outstretched hands.
“My love,” he whispered above your gloved hands, and your heart skipped a beat. He didn’t call you Princess, or Your Highness. You knew it was for the sake of keeping appearances, but by the Gods, you loved him. You were so hopelessly in love with your husband that you placed your heart in his hands once more, silently pleading with him not to break it as he led you in the middle of the dance floor. “May I have this dance?”
“Yes,” you breathed out, your hand resting on his shoulder as naturally as his arms came to your waist. The exact same movements from the night you first met, with the same song, but with your love for him stronger tonight than it did when you first laid your eyes on him.
This time, you danced as man and wife, and you recalled his words from the other day.
How there were moments it seemed so simple – where there were no titles, just you and him, having this dance like it was the most natural, inexplicable thing in this world.
The chord struck. The crowd parted. He took the first step in the dance, and you took a step back. Not once did you tear your gaze away from him, happily drowning in the depths of his hazel eyes you could look at forever. And isn’t that what you’d always wanted? To spend a lifetime with him, to grow old together. It would have been so easy if it weren’t for –
“Don’t think about anything else,” your husband shook his head lightly, “Just enjoy this moment. Tonight, there is only you and I.”
“Okay,” you found yourself nodding, and his grip on your waist tightened for a second. “Just you and I.”
Rintaro’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles. “Just you and I.”
You and him in those moments – you felt immortal. Like nothing could stand in your way. Or perhaps you could die tonight, and you would die happy. Because you were in your husband’s arms, and he was looking at you and only you, murmuring how you were becoming more and more beautiful with each passing day. You were melting in his arms, like goo. Like pudding. And he was strong enough to catch you, to brush his nose against yours at each dip, or letting his lips linger on your forehead each time you came back to him with each spin.
But happy moments never lasted long enough, and soon the rotations were beginning. More couples have joined the dance floor. Through one spin, you caught sight of Tooru and Maiko. Neither of them looked happy, but Tooru visibly brightened when he caught your eye, and shamelessly winked. On the other side of the room danced Iris and Kiyoomi, with the latter looking so nauseous you worried dinner would be spilled on your mother’s floor. And then too soon, Rintaro’s hands were leaving yours as he moved to the nearest dance partner, and you were caught by a pair of strong, muscled arms.
“My turn,” Tooru teased, a grin now on his handsome face as he nudged his head in Rintaro’s direction. He was now dancing with your mother, and you could tell, even from this distance, the smile he wore was genuine. “Should I beat him up?”
You chuckled, throwing your head back. Despite his jokes and jabs, Prince Tooru was a surprisingly great dancer – less stiff than Rintaro, and more confident in his receiving when you spun and dipped. But dancing with him did not feel the same. There was no passion, no yearning, no longing – just the lighthearted air of good humor and his calming nature.
“I don’t think beating the Crown Prince up would be a very wise decision.”
“Indeed, but I was never the Prince known for making wise decisions. That would be more Shinsuke’s forte,” he snorted, and the song reached a part for another rotation. However, Tooru refused to let you go and intentionally spun you away from what was supposed to be your next dance partner. Out of shock, you slapped his chest, and his broad chest rumbled with laughter.
“Your Highness! That was unbelievably rude!”
“As I have said,” you both laughed when he spun you again, “I am not the Prince known to be socially adept.”
You bent over in giggles, your head resting on his chest as you danced more throughout the night. Your feet were getting tired, but your mother was right – this was a night to enjoy. You danced to your heart’s content, exchanging jokes with the handsome Fifth Prince until you craned your neck to the side, only to be stopped by Prince Tooru’s large hand. This time, he no longer smiled as he gazed upon the dancing partners behind you, and your skin turned cold.
You had a feeling you knew exactly why.
“Don’t look. You won’t like what you’ll see.”
Nodding, you pursed your lips and forced a smile at him. “It’s okay, Princess,” he comforted, “Just look at me. You need not concern yourself with others.”
So you danced, and danced, until you could hear your father pleading with the Fifth Prince to give his daughter back because he didn’t get a chance to have a dance with you yet. Reluctantly, Tooru handed you over to your father, but not without a faux frown.
“That was a lovely dance, Your Highness. I wish we could’ve danced more.”
“I think we danced enough.”
Tooru’s smile was guarded; secretive. “I’m afraid it was not enough.”
You danced with your father next. And it was lovely, seeing him up close with all his smile lines and wrinkles. You missed him so, dearly, and he felt the same way. It hurt having to lie to him when he asked how you were settling in the Palace, but you didn’t want to concern him with your personal matters, and for some reason, it didn’t sit well with you if your father disliked Rintaro. So you swallowed your discomfort down and told him everything was great – silently wishing he wouldn’t pry further. He didn’t. And when the song slowed, your father kissed you on the cheek before letting you meet with your next dancing partner.
Stood in front of you was a great wall of what could only be described as majestic. Dressed in white with gold ornaments, Prince Kiyoomi’s curls framed his handsome face beautifully. You had been so accustomed seeing him in more comfortable clothing, and in the privacy of his own home, that seeing him out here in society, it reminded you that he, too, was a Prince.
The Second Prince – the would have been next King should Ushijima and Rintaro falter.
“My Prince.”
“Princess,” he bowed, taking your hand in his as you made your way back to the dance floor. The music played again, this time louder, and the Prince leaned down until his lips were brushing against the shell of your ear. You repressed a gasp, unable to help yourself from digging your nails into his palm when you were greeted by how good he smelled – like mint, new leather, and pine. It also dawned on you how tall and firm the Prince was – perhaps taller and more muscular than Rintaro.
“Y–Yes, Your Highness?”
“Remind me to thank your mother for extending her invites to the forgotten Prince. Imagine my shock when I saw her invitation letter this morning.”
You chuckled nervously, thankful that he had now slightly tilted his head back. “I hardly doubt you are a forgotten prince.”
He snorted, effortlessly spinning you with one hand. “It’s not like I do my duties to begin with. I wouldn’t be surprised if I truly was forgotten,” distracted by his scent, you unknowingly stepped on the hem of your dress and slipped backwards. A scream nearly tore out your throat when the Prince’s large hands cupped the small of your back, your chest pressed to his and his curls brushing against your cheeks as he held you close. “Careful.”
“Th–thank you.”
You were a mess after that. You were never the best dancer, but something about being in the older Prince’s presence made you extra nervous. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He simply danced with grace, and hid his grimace well each time you stepped on his toes. He had also convinced you to stop apologizing every time you did, and by the time the dance was over, you were more than ready to disappear.
“Thank you for the dance, my Prince,” you bowed, words hurried, “I shall see you–”
“Kiyoomi!” a woman appeared out of nowhere, her thick, dark curls pinned up beautifully with some loose strands swaying in time with her hips. She had the same moles as Kiyoomi, and you watched, entranced, as the older woman wrapped her arm casually around the prince. The two shared a silent conversation with their eyes before Kiyoomi glanced at you, and the woman followed his line of sight. “Oh! Your Highness. Greetings. I don’t believe I have introduced myself before – I’m Kanami; Kiyoomi’s mother.”
You smiled at her, politely taking her hand as she extracted herself from her son’s arms and taken to draping herself all over you. Discomfort must be written all over your face, because the Second Prince sent an apologetic smile your way.
“It is an honor to meet you, Miss Kanami. Are you enjoying the night so far? The travel all the way from Itachiyama must have been exhausting.”
“Oh, it was, but it’s all worth it now that we’ve met again!” she squealed, and you paled.
“We have met before?”
Just as she nodded and went about to retelling this so–called meeting, Iris popped up behind Kiyoomi, her smile stiff as she regarded Kanami. Instantly, your mood soured. She hadn’t spoken to you at all tonight, which you were thankful, but something about the thought of her dancing with your husband, and probably being suggestive while at it had your blood boiling.
“Mother! Such a shock seeing you here. I wasn’t aware you were invited.”
Kanami barely glanced her way, her dark, curious eyes still on your face.
“Hello, Iris, and it’s Miss Sakusa, dear,” she corrected, her enthusiastic smile momentarily fading into a scowl before it returned. “Say, Your Highness, since you’re still on your honeymoon period – and I’ve heard your dear husband is too busy these days – would you want to come visit Itachiyama with me? I would be honored to be your host. It will also be a great opportunity to learn more about your Princess duties and politics!” leaning closer, she whispered behind her gloves, although her words were loud enough to be heard by Prince Tooru and Iris. “Although if I will be honest, politics does not interest me in the least bit.”
Your mouth fell open and closed, unsure of what to say, until you settled on chuckling and patting her hand wrapped around your arm. “I… Thank you for invitation, Kanami. I am most tempted to see your beautiful country, but Princess Iris should be the one visiting her territory, should she not?”
Kanami scrunched her nose.“The Princess never grew up in Itachiyama. She would be just as clueless as you. Besides, I have always wanted to invite you over ever since you had Kiyoomi as your last dance on your eighteenth birthday!”
“He… was?”
“He was! Don’t you remember, dear?” she turned to Kiyoomi, who looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him already. But judging by his reaction, it seemed true – Kiyoomi was your last dance on your debut ball. “Well, in that case, I was always fond of you. I may be crossing the line here, but it was always a famous royal saying that whoever was your last dance on your debutante ball was your destined lover.”
#suna rintaro x reader#suna x reader#suna rintarou angst#suna x yn#haikyuu x reader#suna rintarou x reader#rintaro suna x reader#kiyoomi x reader#sakusa x reader#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa x reader fluff#kiyoomi sakusa x you#suna x you#tooru oikawa x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#suna rintarō x reader#suna rintarō x you#series: dusk till dawn
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thoughts on Fable LU
I know most creators in the LU circle like to make Fable be a nice, gentle person in contrast to Legend- the sweet to his sour if you will, but you know what?
I want Fable to be the most ice queen level sort of screwed up that, when the chain find out Legend has a sister, they THINK she's the sweet one- only to meet her and realize that Legend is the nice one in the family.
I want a Fable that lost her mom and dad because Ganon's servants were hunting her family down for ages, killing off every Hylian Knight as they sought out the hero, hoping to eliminate him before Ganon emerged. I want a Fable that knows her father was betrayed by his best friend and cast into the dark world. I want a Fable that's watched the king make dubious decisions for years and has come to accept them as normalcy. I want a Fable who doesn't hesitate to kill for the good of her kingdom. I want a Fable that's well aware of how dark the world is and grew up with that knowledge.
I want a Fable who has watched her brother tear himself apart for the world they protect, who's seen him go from innocent child to grief-ridden young man; full of guilt and still desperately wanting to save everyone. A princess who contrasts her hero, but not in a way that makes him look cruel, but highlights the humanity of the saltiest hero.
A princess who is cold to outsiders, in contrast to how Legend befriends other kingdoms with ease. A princess who will kill, where her hero shows mercy. A princess who makes the tough decisions, because she won't force others to do so for her. A princess who is dangerous and cold, someone who makes even the heroes doubt which side she stands on.
I want a Princess Fable Hyrule who has set her sights on being strong- not because she wants to be 'great' or because she wants power, or even to go down in history. Not even for Hyrule. (She never got to see Hyrule or know it's people, it makes no sense that she'd love them with anything like someone who actually knows anything about them personally, not like her brother). No, she wants to be powerful for one reason: so her brother can stop forcing himself to be strong.
She called this little boy to help her and watched him make his first kill and sent him on a mission that slowly tore him apart and reforged him into a hero. Like her predecessor, she blames herself for stealing his childhood, except Legend is her brother, and she has no way to give back what he lost. So, instead, she tries to create a place where he no longer has to remain what he became, and maybe can go back to being what he was before; carefree, content, and happy. (He won't, but she wants him to have that option anyway).
She's a wildfire to the court, to her enemies she's a storm, but she's a warm, gentle thing with her baby brother.
She's the scary Zelda to me. I think all of them should be affected by their worlds and experiences, but I feel like she, of all of the princesses, has the best potential to be hardened. After all, she's been through most of the same hell as Legend, only unable to change it. She's been powerless long enough, I want her to be just a bit power hungry in the wake of it.
I want Fable to be scary!
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⇢ ˗ˏˋ joost klein x tinder date!reader ࿐ྂ
ੈ✩‧₊˚ OCEAN EYES : mention of sex (but no smut) fluff ; use of alcohol ; imagine ; all is fictional ; english is not my first language
(part two)
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_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ CREATING AN ACCOUNT on tinder wasn’t on your to do list, but after another failed attempt on meet your future ‘husband’ in real life, you decided to seek luck at this app. after choosing your best pictures, you set your profile with hope that you wouldn’t have to text with all of those weirdos that probably were on this site, asking themselves why i don’t have girlfriend?
you honestly couldn’t understand people (mostly the whole alfa men) on this kind of platforms, where they acted like they’re better than everyone else, but in reality they wouldn’t even say ‘hi’ to you. also what’s the point of having a dating app, if you can’t even properly ask the other person to date. you personally hated texting, it was the worst way to communicate, because you weren’t able to show your emotions clearly and it was easier to misunderstand the intentions.
you tried to ignore all suspicious looking people, but you lose hope, when even people your type were weird or impolite towards you. you were close to just delete app and forget about everything that happened. but then you received some kind of ‘super like’ from very good looking blonde man, the first thing that caught your attention was his bright blue eyes. how ironic, you thought. blonde hair and blue eyes, if he were a girl, he definitely would be miss universe. but god knew that he would be too powerful if he was a woman.
before you even checked his profile, you saw that he already messaged you. he already had big plus, because it was usually you who needed to start a conversation.
‘you & me, beer in an hour?’ okay, he definitely was really straightforward but you couldn’t tell that you didn’t liked it.
‘okay’
it was an irresponsible decision, but you couldn’t care less right now. you were truly tried of the endless conversations about nothing, you needed some adrenaline in your life. and even if it turn out that he’s a murderer, you will have an interesting story to tell your future kids — of course if you will survive in that scenario.
, , ,
it was almost twenty minutes after the set time, but you still waited like a fool, because you were curious if you were just scammed at this point. when your second cigarette started to slowly gutter out, you checked your phone to see if he tried to inform you about his lateness, but as you thought — nothing. you were honestly irritated that you couldn’t met a proper guy, not even for a relationship but just good sex, apparently you just missed to have someone close, in physical and mental way.
fuck it. you said to yourself and deleted this stupid dating app, right after you did that, you heard someone’s calling your name. before you turned around, you throw out a cigarette.
“i get it that i’m late, but you don’t have to ignore me” you saw the blonde guy in front of you, with two bottles of wine in his hands and two beer cans in his jeans pockets.
“so your real miss universe, nice to meet you” you said with a bit of irony in your voice, and he just laughed, giving you bootle of alcohol.
“or maybe i’m just in your imagination, guess we will never know” he said with smile, and you realised that he loved to laugh a lot, but honestly that was exactly what you needed now. some positive energy. “but now let’s go, shall we?”
, , ,
at first it was supposed to be quick meeting to get each other better and then probably forget about the existence of each other. but to your surprise it turned out that you were sitting in some sketchy looking place with joost for almost four hours already, and the fun only began.
you couldn’t believe that your perfect type of person was right in front of you and he was interested in you, which was the most unbelievable part. he was the first person that could make you laugh only by saying something random, or maybe it was because you were under the influence of weed, that you just smoked. either way his ability to turn every little thing into a joke was hilarious and you simply loved it.
suddenly you both became silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for you, which was also something new. all you could hear was the sound of wind and some other birds but you decided to interrupt the silence.
“you want to come to my place?” you said without thinking twice, well. . . let’s be honest your brain wasn’t working at all at the moment.
“to do what?” he looked at you with his typical smirk, sipping his beer.
“obviously to play monopoly” you said sarcastically, but underneath you had a little smile. “i want you to fuck me” you added and he seemed to be taken aback with your directness, as he watched you getting up.
“so you’re coming or i will need to please myself on my own?” you said, walking slowly in the direction of your house.
“you don’t need to tell me twice” he quickly said and you just chuckled as you felt his hands on your waist.
that was a great match, for sure.
, , ,
⇢ ˗ˏˋ thank you for attention! hope you liked it!
#joost klein x you#joost klein imagine#joost klein x reader#i love joost#stand with joost#joost x reader#eurovision imagines#imagine#x reader
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any advice for someone who's very bad at keeping friendships? people just up and vanish despite my best efforts, and I don't really know how to meet anyone else (dating apps are the worst/the pandemic ate my education/I work remote). late 20s are basically for feeling unlovable and ruined, I suppose.
Maintaining friendships---maintaining all relationships, particularly with people inconveniently not in the same apartment or office building---is hard. It just is. I've also found there's a steady attrition of freely-available friendship in your late twenties, as people move out of their crowded apartments, shack up, start having children and/or climbing the ladder into jobs that demand more of their attention and energy.
It is tough to be in your late 20s. You realize that you've taken for granted how full the world felt, with people and potential. You're not quite prepared for when you find yourself alone, and someone starts locking doors that you thought would be open forever.
Unfortunately, there is no easy fix to this. The only fix is: you are going to have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and do it all again. And again. And again.
"It" can take a lot of different forms. I know "join a group" is the most trite, annoying advice I can give but---do it. Find a group that you think you might be interested in joining, and join. Book club, running club, esoteric interest of your choice club; go on MeetUp and see what's in your area, volunteer for stuff. Ignore (for weeks, if not months) the fact that you feel awkward and out of place, and make it a commitment.
And then, when you've been part of a group---well, it's not so weird to ask if Lisa wants to go to a street festival with you. Not if you've packed lunches for the homeless with Lisa or laughed about a particular book with Lisa or been running alongside Lisa as you train for the upcoming 5k.
(Maybe Lisa will politely decline. Maybe Lisa will come to the street festival, but then has excuses for the next thing, and the next; she's too busy to make a good friend right now. And so---you will pick yourself up. You will do it all again.)
Or you can reach out to those people you've fallen out of touch with. "Hey, James, if you're in town let's grab lunch!" sounds very fake but it's not if you genuinely want to grab lunch with James. Ask Aiden if they're doing anything on Thursday, and would they like to come to bar trivia with you? If they're not in the same city, find some time for calls, or zoom---or hell, go old-fashioned and write letters.
If those ideas sound labor- and time-intensive, hard in the way that making yourself vulnerable always is......yes.
As I said, there's no easy route to this. Relationships take effort and someone has to go first; someone has to toss the ball and hope another human catches it. You cannot guarantee the catch, that's out of your power, so the only way to find people is to keep lobbing balls at everybody's heads and hope they have good reflexes.
#I think one of the lessons imprinted on my soul in the last few years#is how much effort everything takes.#if you want a good life you have to build it; it will take so much work.#more work than you thought possible. more work than you think appropriate. the work of a lifetime in fact.#at any point you can decide that you are not interested in building that life! you can stop. you can always stop.#your only punishment will be.....no one else will build it for you. you'll have to live out your days in a half-built life.#and there's another kind of pain in that.#sarah gives advice
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Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 7
This part was brought to you by the amazing @megasweetbones . They wrote this part, I simply edited it. Go check them and their work! Show them some love!
First Previously AU Summary
“Were you the ones that summoned me, freeing from the bane that is paperwork?” the being asked.
Constantine was momentarily thrown for a loop, but the Brit was able to right himself more quickly than any of the other heroes.
"We summoned you to make a deal. I'm offering my soul-"
"Let me stop you there." The King's smile was mocking. And probably terrifying to everyone else, given his fangs. His lichtenberg lightning marks spasming in a way that could be mistaken as agitation. "I know who you are, John Constantine. Many hold claim to fragments of your soul. But, even if that was not the case, I am the one who holds claim to all souls. As all souls have , and will, pass through the Infinite. Your soul holds no weight here. Neither does your mind or body. Do not bargain with them. And do not bargain with me. Simply tell me why it is you summoned me, as I already know what I want from you."
Constantine looked like he didn't know whether to be offended or not. But it seems fear won out, as well as desperation.
"Forgive me, please, your majesty. Trigon has threatened to destroy our universe, starting with Earth. We have summoned you here to ask that Trigon be forced to return to the Infinite Realms. Or, to at least be stopped from devouring our universe."
It was as if everything paused. The billow of the wind, crackling ice, the flicker of the candles, the shifting of the lightning scars and cape of stars.
"He has threatened... what?" Quiet, almost shocked, the words passed from the Ghost King's lips.
Lips which twisted into a snarl. Fangs elongated. Flickering candles became green blazes. Wind roared back into whipping gales. The King's body distorted with his rage. Unfathomable and nightmarish.
"He dares to Challenge me?!? My Rule? My Authority? He knows of how this world has those under my protection and, yet, still believes he can touch what is MINE?"
If Red Robin and Supernova hadn't already been exposed to this Eldritch madness and the Realms, frequently, they'd probably be near catatonic. Like the other heroes. Most were on the ground or leaning against something. Aquaman looked sea sick. Flash was shockingly still for once. Even Batman couldn’t handle the madness the King oozed.
Supernova can smell that at least two people have pissed themselves. Euwh. What an awful day to have a nose. Especially with his heightened sense of smell. Phantom could probably smell it too, though was uncaring in his rage.
At least Constantine was able to speak in the face of an angry Ancient who Rules the Infinite. His experience with powerful otherworldly beings that could end him at any moment coming in play.
"Please, let us know what deal it is you wish to make in order to have Trigon stopped. He will be here very soon."
"I want you to abolish the Anti-Ecto Acts and free the souls of my citizens, who were captured and experimented on under such heinous laws." Phantom turned to look at Red Robin and Supernova, who should have pretended to be affected like the others. As it stands though, they were standing there. Unshaken and unaffected. "There are those among you who have already worked to undo the damage. But they should not be forced to work alone. I want all of you to support them and my people you have wronged. I want my people returned, safe and sound."
Phantom was finally able to calm down as he spoke. Wind slowed down and candles went back to but a flicker. He turned back to look Constantine dead in the eyes.
"Make no mistake, I would have fought for the Earth, and this universe, the moment I was made aware of Trigon. I have my own reasons for protecting this world and its people. But I expect the same in return. In that you are protecting the health, well-being, and safety of your people? I must do the same. Free my people and erase the laws that allow your kind to hunt us for sport and science. This is not a deal, as it's my job to prevent my people from destroying the Balance. No, this is a warning. My people may question why I'd save yours, given these laws. My people want war. While I deal with Trigon, you will undo the mistakes of your government. Or else, banishing Trigon would be for nothing."
With that, the King left. Ice and the haunting aura leaving with him.
Constantine looked over at the two young men who stood, casual and unmoving. He, as well as every other person in the room, was still shaking. The whole situation called for a drink, or a dozen. But he knew that he needed to get everyone in order to fulfill their end of the deal. The Bat would just knock down any liquor once he was aware and the Anti-Ecto Acts were too important to deal with while drunk. Bullocks.
To be continued?
Note: Hoped you guys enjoyed that! @megasweetbone really out did themselves. Now the question is this a good place to finish? There isn't much more I would add but some aftermath so I want you guys to tell me if I should just leave it as is or not. Once it is finished I am going to ask the others who helped with the story ( @fanfics-or-dragons and @megasweetbones ) if I can post it on Ao3! After all I want to properly credit them so knowing if they have an account so I can add them as a guest writer or credit them another way. Tell me your thoughts in the comments!
-Gremlin
Edit: I have decide to post it on Ao3. If I decide to add anymore it will be in an epilogue or another story. Thanks for your support!
#danny phantom#dcu#dcxdp#dp + dc#dp x dc crossover#danny fenton#superboy#conner kent#ghost king danny#time zone au#super dead tired#kon el superboy#kon el kent#tim drake#red robin#conner kent x tim drake#danny fenton x tim drake x conner kent#danny fenton x conner kent#danny fenton x tim drake#dpxdc#justice leauge dark#justice league#long post#other writers
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i would like to see annabeth fully take down people more often like why has she not gotten a moment like percy had in tlo where he stood over her protectively when she was stabbed
i want that bc she would do it in a heart beat and i feel like her power is just whittled down to smarts but i want her to actually kick ass more often without getting injured again and again
like why tf does she keep getting snuffed from doing some crazy shit
like we know annabeths trained WAY more then percy right like why hasn’t she ripped someone’s ear off with her teeth yet
lowkey feel like she should’ve been the one to get the nose bleed bc i feel like it would’ve been so shocking to see the girl who always has a plan and is always super strategic get taken down by a simple nose bleed especially if percy was the one who got that bad gash instead and she was trying to protect him just for her to get a random ass nose bleed TRAGIC
also yes i know she fights and is good i just want her to have more insanely badass moments like if she had fought and taken down octavian instead of throwing her dagger into the water that one time like love that moment super cute and silly but GIVE ME BADASS MOTHERFUCKER ANNABETH XHASE GIVE IT TO ME
#pjo annabeth#annabeth chase#pjo#hoo#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#heros of olympus#hoo fandom#pjo fandom#hoo text post#pjo text post#hoo/pjo#pjo hcs
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Hi!!! Sorry if you've been asked this before but is it possible for you to summarize the Bonus Links' personalities? Just asking because I'd like to get a general idea, apologies if this is too much of a pain to answer 😭🫶🏻
hey! luckily I already wrote up character intros a while back that I never posted to tumblr lol, so I'll go ahead and post them now! under the cut since this is mega long lol
Loft
Pronouns: he/him
Game: Skyward Sword
Age: 22
Height: 5’3”
Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally
Personality: World’s Nicest Man Pushed To His Limit. It’s his nature to be light-hearted and easy-going, but ever since the events of Skyward Sword he’s been unable to let the implications of Demise’s curse and Zelda’s connection to Hylia go. He’s usually mild, but he’s got a lot of suppressed anger in him that comes out at inopportune times. He tends towards being optimistic, but has lately been caught in a depressive spiral. As a result of all these conflicting emotions, he hasn’t felt like himself in a while. Before everything, he could have been described as a little bit lazy, but these days a better word would be lethargic. He’s got a mischievous and thrill-seeking streak that often surprises people. He knows he’s powerful, but he’s lost some confidence in the years since his quest. He’s wracked with guilt about the way everything ended.
Slate
Pronouns: tends to use he/him, but really any
Game: Breath of the Wild (ignoring TotK for now)
Age: 21
Height: 5’0”
Communication: Mainly signs, speaks occasionally
Personality: The Reviews Are In: Friendly Guy, Vaguely Off-Putting. He knows he’s not pre-calamity Link, but he’s not exactly sure what he is instead. He’s accepted this about himself, and it grinds his gears that other people refuse to. He’s not sure what to do with all these memories inside him that aren’t his, and that he feels nothing for. He’s become more expressive, but when he’s upset his face goes entirely blank. He has a tendency to be distracted, blunt, intense, impulsive, somewhat abrasive. But he’s not unkind, and can even be outright friendly. He’d offer his help to anyone who asks, and he makes it a point to know everyone in Hyrule. He’s happiest out in nature, and doesn’t mind the solitude. He only ever lies by omission, and otherwise says exactly what he means. There’s something a little otherworldly about him.
Mask
Pronouns: he/him
Game: Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask
Age: 15
Height: 5’2½”
Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally
Personality: Local Teen Needs Hug So Bad, Will Bite If You Try. He’s prickly, hot-tempered, moody. He’ll pick verbal battles he probably shouldn’t. Everything is a touchy subject. But he’s developed this behavior as a coping mechanism. He’s kind by nature, and it takes effort to lash out. The person he is with Malon- gentle, more soft-spoken, with a good sense of humor and a love for harmless mischief- is a lot closer to the person he’s comfortable being. He’s a scared kid. He feels out of place, both mature and immature, of this world and not. Sometimes, he gets scrambled between Termina, the Hyrule he’s in now, the Hyrule he left behind, and the Hyrule of the war. He has a lot of resentment for both the gods and the royal family, and all he wants is to be left alone.
Wolf
Pronouns: he/him
Game: Twilight Princess
Age: 23
Height: 5’5”
Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally
Personality: Thank God I’m A Country Boy. He’s a gentle soul, probably the gentlest out of all of them. He likes to be useful, and he has made being the problem solver of Ordon Village part of his identity. He’s a bit of a mother hen and likes to take care of people. Midna was good at bringing out a little bit of attitude and snark in him. He’s got a bad case of Resting Bitch Face, but he’s not an angry person. However, he’s had a hard time adjusting to life back in Ordon. He’s usually even-tempered, but lately he’s been irritable and easier to anger. He feels isolated by his experiences, and has been avoiding most of the villagers, including his loved ones, even though it makes him lonely. Mostly he just doesn’t want to take it out on them, but it’s also about his pride. He enjoys the company of animals far more these days. He wants a quiet life, and has been avoiding Zelda's attempts to make "Hero" a political role for him to fill.
War
Pronouns: he/him
Game: Hyrule Warriors
Age: 25
Height: 5’7”
Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally, had Proxi speak for him at one point during the war
Personality: Link “This Is My Jaeger, I Make The Tactical Decisions” Faron. He comes across as a very charming young man, witty, helpful, pleasant in conversation, well-adjusted. In reality, he is constantly doing complicated political 4D chess in his mind at all times, even when it’s not necessary. Many years of being subject to the whims of the Royal Court and pressure to be a perfect symbol have poisoned him: he’s become calculating, manipulative, superficially polite, two-faced. He has to be the one holding all the cards, considering all the variables, fixing all of the problems, because he can’t trust anyone else. If you were to strip him of all pretense, he'd actually be a dry, resigned person, perpetually annoyed with everyone around him. He values status and reputation, and he wants more power than he has. His appearance is important to him because he knows his pretty face is an asset. He holds deep respect for the gods and the mantle of the hero. He has a strong sense of duty, but one that often leads him to justify terrible actions. The ends justify the means.
Mirror
Pronouns: he/they
Game: A Link Between Worlds, Triforce Heroes
Age: 22
Height: 5’1”
Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally
Personality: Local Link Doing Pretty Well Actually, All Things Considered. He’s just living his life, having a mostly pleasant time. He used to be quiet and reserved when he was younger, but has come out of his shell in a big way. He’s a bit vain, and fond of doing things with a dramatic flair. They like to have an audience, they like to make people laugh, they like to have your attention. Rather than being poisoned by court politics, he thrives in them. He doesn’t pretend to be charming, he just is. They can be on the arrogant side. He’s interested in fashion and art more than fighting these days, but still keeps his skills up to date. He pretends the scar on his face doesn’t bother him, but it does. He’s particularly obsessed with the legend of the hero before him.
Mage
Pronouns: he/him
Game: A Link to the Past, Link’s Awakening, Oracle of Ages, Oracle of Seasons
Age: 32
Height: 5’3”
Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally
Personality: Weird Uncle You Just Stopped Hearing From One Day. He’s a difficult guy to get a read on. He comes off as deeply serious, imposing, no-nonsense. He is actually full of nonsense. The fact that no one can tell what is and isn’t part of the bit is part of the bit. He mostly ignores his own problems by dedicating his life to solving other people’s problems. He wanders from place to place, helping people and becoming a bit of a larger than life folk legend in his own right in the process. He’s leaned into learning magic more than the sword, and has built up quite the arsenal of spells. He doesn’t speak often, and is content to let other Links lead despite being the oldest and the most experienced. He’s difficult to rile and even more difficult to get a straight answer out of.
Spirit
Pronouns: he/him
Game: Spirit Tracks
Age: 16
Height: 4’11”
Communication: Mainly signs, speaks occasionally. He has a stutter when he speaks.
Personality: Wants To Be Anywhere But Here, Preferably On A Train. He’s fully given up swordfighting, and basically just wants to go back to being a Royal Engineer like nothing happened. He has no interest in gaining any kind of attention, authority, or power from the mantle of the hero, and would actually prefer that everyone stop looking at him. He’s quiet, sweet-natured and generally non-confrontational, but he’s not afraid to stand up for himself when pushed. It’s just that it’s easier to let Zelda stand up for him instead. He’s pretty mature and in-tune with his emotions for a 16 year old. Seeing spirits everywhere, he has a lot of private thoughts about grief and death that he doesn’t share with anyone. The gears in his brain are constantly turning, and once he’s stuck on an idea, it’s all he can focus on. He often doesn’t give himself enough credit for how capable he is. Please let him tell you about trains.
Mini
Pronouns: he/him
Game: Minish Cap
Age: 14
Height: 4’3”
Communication: Only signs, mute.
Personality: He’s Just A Little Guy, Only 2 Pixels Tall. Mini doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s not very expressive in the face, and it can be hard to tell what he’s thinking or feeling. Mostly, he’s a little rascal. He likes to root around in the garbage and build strange little machines from what he finds. He spends a lot of time hanging out with the Minish, moreso than humans. It’s a little bit of an escapism thing. He hasn’t really processed what it meant to become the hero so young, and is actively trying to avoid doing so. He’s very independent, and simply doesn’t compute attempts to coddle him.
Wake
Pronouns: he/him
Game: Wind Waker, Phantom hourglass
Age: 20
Height: 5’5”
Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally
Personality: Everyone’s Favorite Cousin At The Family Function. He’s a fun person to be around. Friendly, energetic, laid back, good-natured, outgoing. He is always up for a good shenanigan. But he can get serious when he needs to, and often plays the important role of mediator in group dynamics. He’s the glue that holds the team together! He seems to take everything in stride, and presents himself as unbothered by the things that have happened to him. Whether that’s actually true, or he’s just compartmentalized everything too well remains to be seen. He has a strange way of being very open, and yet a closed book at the same time. He’s sentimental, and family is important to him
#hope this helps#and that my summaries aren't too rambly#long post#astronomically so probably#all links#bonus lore#bonuslinksdotjpg
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Someone described Katsuki’s thoughts on their future as this “catch and chase” esc game and I can’t stop thinking about catch-a-Kacchan now. The symbolism of that now is so telling with Katsuki’s new admission. Oh my god.
Like of course izuku could never catch Kacchan: that was the game. The hope that their rivalry and therefore their new found relationship could stay this way forever. He would never lose Izuku because they were always trying to catch each other—chase, grab, hold, let go, and chase again.
IT EVEN PUTS A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON KATSUKI’S PHRASING OF CALLING OFA A “CURSED POWER”
Honestly it almost feels like the end to this statement, one he never quite articulated to himself, and especially not to the world. Ofa gives power, ofa gives hope, and ofa ties itself to the people it interacts with. Ofa breathes the life into the game of their lives, catch and release.
Ofa may be a cursed power, but I just thought we’d be competing, and I’d be on your heels, for the rest of our lives…
Because ofa is the beacon that, on a very literal level, allows catch-a-Kacchan to exist. What do I do if I don’t have an excuse to be with you? What if I don’t deserve it?
AND THE NUMBER ONE RULE OF HOW KATSUKI ALWAYS WON CATCH-A-KACCHAN WAS THAT HE HAD TO TAP IZUKU ON THE BACK… HE HAD TO MANEUVER HIMSELF BEHIND IZUKU TO WIN…. WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME
And it’s such a small detail of symbolism, and idec if it’s purposeful, it’s just the fact that it exists at all that I love it so god damn much.
As Izuku tries to comfort him in the only way he really knows how (“well I still have the embers! It was a nice dream while it lasted! Please don’t cry you’re just overly sensitive right now, I’m sure you won’t feel this way later..”), and as Katsuki believes that the only way he’s allowed into Izuku’s life is this small glimpse into their rivalry—and, in spite of it all, allmight reminds them that they have changed.
The world, it has changed. The winds still blow high across the country, and we are reminded that the most important part of despair is the connection we have with each other. They are not just heroes, they are the greatest heroes—together.
The world will never be the same—and isn’t that the most beautiful part of it all? That we have changed, together?
#bkdk#midoriya izuku#mha deku#bakudeku#bkdk brainrot#bnha deku#bakugou katsuki#mha analysis#y’all know it’s bad when I REALLY pull out the mix between freak out fandom words and the poetic ass way of saying it
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It's Supposed to Be Fun
(a letter to my friends in the twst fandom)
I've been wanting to make this post for a while and these thoughts may seem scattered but I’m gonna try to express them.
Lately, I have seen many friends and moots that either are leaving the fandom or feel guilty over not having posted in a while or losing interest in twst. On the other side, I also have friends being harassed.
This a reminder to remember why you joined this community to begin with. I know that keeping up with the fast-moving pace of fandom and comparing ourselves to others, can skew our perspective on these things.
It’s supposed to be fun.
Why do we post art or write? Sure, partly for recognition, there's no denying that. But, why do we create, I mean really? For enjoyment. Not for others, not to be “popular” FOR JOY.
So, whether you’re dealing with people critiquing you or feeling guilty about not creating. My question is this: Why waste so much of your time on something that makes you miserable?
Did it stop being fun? Why? Haters? Loss of interest?
To my friends who feel guilty for not creating and not sure if they lost interest in twst:
Don’t feel guilty. At one time, the creation of your twst content was natural. It's what you did for fun with friends or for yourself. Revisit that mindset and think - if creating twst content now will bring that same joy it did before.
If the answer is no, then maybe it’s time to pivot. It’s okay for interests to fade. It doesn’t mean that time, memories, or the friends you made are lost. Connect with your friends, we will understand! We still love you! It's not a race there's no time limit, just pick up were you want to. Draw fanart of old events or OCs.
To my friends who have been harassed:
I say this with sincerity…. People who harass others over fictional characters are fucking losers.
Like… There’s no other eloquent way to encapsulate it. I’m starting to not care for the reason anymore - If you harass or be shady to others over a ship or fictional character. CONGRATS! YOU ARE A LOSER.
We all join fandoms as a hobby, for fun. We’re all just kids in the sandbox playing pretend again… and if you are the type of person to go up just to “kick the doll out of someone’s hand" or make commentary on how “their way of playing is wrong." You’re a loser. I have a life outside of twst, we all do. Someone saying my ship is wrong or cringe is just so laughable to me. We have to make fun of these people more for being so goddamn lame.
Imagine being so unhappy that when you see someone having fun you HAVE to comment on it. By all means, if it gets you through the day...talk shit to close friends or even post about it on your own blog. (THAT WAS ALWAYS ALLOWED.) Don't bother creators directly. Don't be a loser.
I sure see tolerance leave people’s bodies when they see a fandom opinion they don't like. (And this is coming from someone who has lots of opinions on these things! But that's why I always put the disclaimers that, hey this is just MY opinion.)
Discussion is one thing, unhelpful comments are another. We shouldn’t give these people the time of day. Curate your online space. Yes, when you post things online you are subjecting yourself to scrutiny. But, we as creators need to stop letting these people have power over us. Period. We do this for free!! FOR FUN. The best thing you can do is create shamelessly.
Delete weird replies, block whoever you need to do to rid yourself of these people who have nothing better to do. Keep your peace. It’s supposed to be for fun. You don’t owe anyone a response.
The twst fandom is like a little family to me and I guess I feel protective over the people in it? I have made many friends and memories because I joined it. And even dispite a handful of the negative experiences (AKA: A couple of “losers" that I’ve had to deal with.) I’ll always look fondly back on this time.
The key for me has always been to just…create for myself. I originally made bunnwich for me and one friend to make fun little arts about our Yuu’s and now I get to have lots of friends to share it with! I’ve transitioned from an OC blog to probably more of an Oc x Canon blog…but I don’t care tbh. I just…draw what I feel like. I know there are people who probably dislike me for that or feel strange about my content and that’s fine. I’m still gonna keep drawing it, loser.
And I just want you guys to do the same, twst or not.
I can’t forget that all my followers and friends are a bonus, if I had never joined tumblr I’d still be drawing the silly shit I draw in peace. And while yes, I do want to grow as an artist and sell more merch and keep growing... I can’t forget my initial excitement for this silly little game. I like to talk about it. I like to write about it. It inspires me.
It’s supposed to be fun. Please remember that. I know it can be discouraging to have others being shitty to you. Or going through a creative drought. But, try not to let this stop you from creating what you love.
#Anyways just had to get this out#feel free to ignore#I love you guys alot and idk if this is helpful but I hate to see you guys upset#ren speaks🌱#twst
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Recently got into the walking dead and let me just say i’m obsessed with your carl fics. It’s alarming how many times i’ve read them lmao.
CLINGY c.grimes
☆ WORD COUNT - 2.4K
CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER
☆ SUMMARY - being clingy was the most natural thing in you and carl's relationship after all the trauma you'd both endured. but when things get too much for carl, he shuts you out, leaving you to assume only the worst.
☆ WARNINGS - clingy relationship, crying, blood, gore, mentions of death, walkers, mean!carl, yelling, stress, mentions of violence, weapons, (2) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷
clingy was a word you had much distaste for.
when the world literally ended, there wasn't much to do aside from survive and hold onto your loved ones. you'd been alone so long, people slowly falling, dying, leaving. before you knew it, it was just you and the group you'd found. well, they'd found you.
more specifically, he'd found you.
the boy with the sheriff's hat, eyeing you with his gun in the air. you made no sudden movements, eyes cast down on the ground as if you didn't care whether or not the bullet would fly from his gun.
it was just you in the house they'd raided. you didn't have a family, nor a group. just you, covered in blood, starved and in a kind of fetal position, knees pressed against your chest as you eyed the pool of blood surrounding you. some of your own, some from the ones before.
when you'd met the group, you had nothing. dead parents, dead siblings, nothing seemed to matter anymore. the world was gone, the people you loved either dead, taking the easy way out or leaving it to the walkers. or perhaps they'd left you, walking out when things got tough, leaving you and the remains of your family behind.
the screams from outside of the house would alert you of their soon fate afterwards.
you opened up, albeit it was slow.
you liked to believe there was an instant connection between you and the boy. he lowered his gun almost instantly, realising you weren't a threat behind the blood and glassy eyes. how he'd known, you weren't sure. he just did.
he rushed towards you, calling downstairs for his father in a panic.
you didn't speak much at first, staring when he'd offered his name. carl grimes. the boy you'd soon learn to love.
and with time, you made a new family. daryl dixon was a good idea for a father, you soon learned, carol sort of alike a mother when she snuck you an extra one of her homemade cookies.
you lost others, more fell. but you and carl never frayed.
rick and michonne would always catch you together, smiling and looking at one another knowingly. it was safe to say that it was no surprise when carl announced you were together. after all, you were practically joined by the hip.
this brings us back to the beginning. the word clingy.
you hated the word as much as you hated the death surrounding you. could anyone truly be clingy in a world like this? is anyone really too much? you liked to believe that there was no such thing as too much anymore. people died, left, separated. any day could be someone's last. you'd prefer to know that you'd spent all the time with them as you could.
if that was clingy, then so be it.
carl was used to this side of you, he catered to it, if anything, he matched it. he was used to the way you laid against him, talking lowly as he went about his tasks.
there was a grey cloud looming over alexandria at a time like this. the survivors were getting more powerful and it was plaguing carl's mind. you did your best to be as gentle as you possibly could, attempting to console the boy but it seemed no matter what you did, he would find himself bubbling over with anger.
"will you pass me the carving knife?" he cut you off mid-speech, ignoring the way your lips instantly shut closed, eyes searching your side of the table.
you weren't hanging from the boy as you usually were, picking at his hands and fingers, playing with them as though they were dough. you weren't snuggling into him while he placed his arm around you. your normal routine simply didn't exist with the past week or so.
but if space was what he needed, you were more than happy to offer that to him. "okay." you mumbled, picking up the knife you thought was the carving knife and passing it to him.
you didn't know much about knives and guns, usually sitting your head on your knees and listening to the boy speak about them. yet, every time he told you what was what and their intent, everything went in one ear and out the other. he'd often admire the way you asked a thousand questions over, one's he'd already answered. he'd only smile, answering them again.
now you realised perhaps you should have been listening.
apparently, you'd passed him the wrong one. you heard what you assumed was a swear pass his lips in a whisper as he placed the knife back to the table roughly. "what's wrong?" you questioned softly, watching him pick up a thinner knife, sanding it down with the block in his hand.
"got the wrong one." but his voice was anything but the gentle carl you knew and loved. this one was sort of mean, a tone of anger behind his words. "how many times have i explained all of them to you? i mean, you still don't know, seriously?"
it seemed as though the dark cloud over alexandria had moved into the room belonging to carl grimes. you found yourself sneaking your knees closer to your chest, just like the day he'd found you. "sorry." you mumbled, glancing away.
confrontation wasn't exactly your forté.
it didn't help that fighting with carl was a rare experience. "maybe if you just listened to me every now and again we wouldn't have this problem."
offence took over your face, brows knitting together. "I do listen to you." but when he talked about things like knives and guns it was sort of hard for you to keep up.
a scoff left his lips. "sure you do." angry carl never failed to show you a different side of the boy you loved.
you stared at him in shock, wondering where the sudden attitude towards you was coming from. you knew he was stressed, understood it even but you'd done nothing to deserve the hatred being thrown your way.
that was when the shaky, "why're you being so mean?" left your lips.
like i said, confrontation wasn't something you practiced often. you were sort of unsure of where to go in this situation.
carl breathed out a ragged breath, practically throwing the tools onto the table. you jumped slightly, staring at him with widened eyes. "maybe you're the one being too clingy." his eyes stared into yours but they didn't look like the ones you'd fallen for so deeply. "just..." breathing through his nose. "just leave me alone for a bit, yeah?"
clearly, he wasn't in the mood for any of this.
and neither were you.
you spoke no words as you quickly scooped up the bag on the ground, making a haste exit towards the door. the sound of a quick sniffle before you shut the door closed was enough for the weighing bricks to fall down on carl.
the sudden severity of the situation dawned on the boy.
he'd made you cry.
and he swore never to be the cause of your tears.
he didn't run after you, though, much too caught up in his own head. the stress of the entire situation of the saviours was weighing on him too. he crashed his elbows onto the table, shoving his head between his hands and groaning. he wondered if he'd ever get anything right.
before he could get too far with the self pity, his bedroom door swung open to reveal his father.
"what was that?" the older man questioned, not giving a clue to what he was talking about. but carl could guess. "y/n just ran out of here crying, you have somethin' to do with that?"
in a moment like this, disappointed dad gazing at him, carl would have done anything to wipe that look off his face. "dad, you don't get it―" about to explain himself, weave out of whatever this was.
"i don't care." was the answer he gave, having better things to be doing than sorting out this teenage relationship himself. "fix it." and finally slamming the door.
rick always taught carl how respect worked, he punished him when he was wrong, rewarded him when he was right. he didn't teach him to act like this.
it was night fall when carl finally found himself walking around the town of alexandria. he was sort of hoping you were out here instead of back at home for he really didn't feel like speaking to daryl at the door and asking were you home. however, he searched every nook and cranny, every place you usually went when you were upset and yet he walked back empty handed, realising you definitely hadn't been outside.
finally, he found himself standing on your doorstep, sucking in a breath before knocking on the white door, the light from above shining down on his face making him squint.
the door opened to reveal carol, thankfully not daryl. carl really couldn't imagine what daryl would have to say to him right about now. he just hoped he was out hunting somewhere or other, at least then he wouldn't get the urge to haul the boy off his front porch.
"y/n?" is all carol questioned, she was dressed in her own hunting attire and carl could only guess that she was on her way out too.
he pressed his lips into a thin line. "she home."
the woman nodded. "upstairs." before swapping places with the boy, making her way outside while inviting him in. "carl." he looked towards her. "don't make me regret leaving you inside."
he only nodded, allowing her to close the door from the outside.
finally, the silence of your house enveloped him.
you, carol and daryl all lived in the same two story house but sometimes it seemed only you lived here. all the decorations were your work, pictures and photo frames, some of before, some of now, everything screamed... you.
it was that cosiness about you that made him fall for you all that time ago.
his boots found the stairs, making his way up and finding your bedroom door, the last door on the right hallway.
your door was white, a brass handle leading him into the room he'd seen a thousand times before.
he'd imagine your room at the other side of the door, pretty pink bedsheets with matching curtains. he'd found the curtains for you on a separate occasion, you'd been over the moon. and the pretty lights that decorated your walls along with the picture frames and the stuffed animal he'd found tucked away in your bloodied back so long ago, now fresh against your bed.
a sort of comfort from the world before.
he knocked, receiving no answer.
"sweetheart? it's carl." again, he was met with the mere silence as his fingertips hung heavy against the door handle. "i'm coming in, okay?" it wasn't a question, more like a warning.
when he did walk in, he was met with a sight he'd seen before.
tears coating the edges of your eyes, sitting criss-cross legged on your bed in your favourite pijamas, pretty stuffed toy between your legs. carl had seen this before, held you through it, comforted you and swore that whoever hurt you would pay. what was he to do now when he was the cause of your sorrow?
"hey, baby." his tone was as gentle as could be, making his way to sit next to you on the bed. "missed you."
you two were so different.
carl had the stubbornness of a mule, when things got tough he found it awfully hard to apologise, not that he ever had to do it much. though, he'd much prefer for everything to disappear in a blink of an eye, forget everything ever happened and go back to the way you two were.
and when you were upset? you shut off.
"i was thinking..." still avoiding the two words that would seemingly make it all okay. "maybe next week we can go someplace? find somewhere to hang out for the weekend, like a night away." his words prodded no reaction from you. "how's that sound, angel?"
a shrug was the only thing he was met with.
your glassy eyes strayed far from his, not even attempting to look him in the eyes. he sighed, unsure of where to go. "look at me, sweet girl." long fingers entrapping your chin and turning it towards him.
there was a pang of guilt as he looked in your glassy red eyes, evidence that you'd been crying earlier that day. and he'd been the cause of it.
finally, the long awaited. "I'm sorry." and carl the stubborn mule grimes didn't just apologise to anyone. "shouldn't have talked to you liked that, c'mere." in a time like this, all you needed was comfort, that was what compelled you to move with his hands, climbing into his lap. the sound of your soft cries soon filled his ears. "i know, i know, 'm so sorry." hand rubbing circles against your back, holding you close.
you didn't mean to cry the way you did, but the weight of the day collapsing on you was enough for you to cling to the boy.
you buried your head in the crook of his neck, wisps of his own hair in front of your face, his hat steady on his head as he held you so gently, as though you were made of glass.
a wobble of your bottom lip as you pulled away from the boy, holding your hands up to your face as if to shield yourself. there was something so scary about him seeing you cry. "i didn't..." your own voice cracking. "i didn't mean to be clingy."
his heart quite literally shattered.
"no, no." his voice sort of high pitched as he pulled your hands from your face. "no, you're not, sweetheart, i promise you're not."
you sniffled at the boy. "but you said―"
carl couldn't dare to hear the rest of such a sentence. "i didn't mean it, baby, i promise." he pulled you back towards his chest, head finding his neck again only this time you didn't cry as hard, mere sniffles leaving your nose. "was bein' an asshole, baby, 'm so sorry."
it'd take a while for you to believe him.
but he'd do whatever it took.
main masterlist/carl's masterlist
#carl#grimes#carl grimes#carl x reader#carl grimes x reader#carl x you#carl grimes x you#carl x y/n#carl grimes x y/n#carl imagine#carl grimes imagine#carl grimes drabble#carl grimes oneshot#carl grimes smut#carl grimes fluff#carl grimes angst#carl drabble#carl oneshot#carl smut#carl fluff#carl angst#the walking dead#twd#twd x reader#twd x y/n#twd x you#twd imagine#twd fluff#twd angst#twd oneshot
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Getting Dared To Call Them Daddy Pt. 3
Summary: You get dared to call Valentino and Angel Dust daddy.
Warnings: Swearing, slightly suggestive, Val being Val. I speak Spanish but not Italian, so I just went off of what I found online. Forgive me if I’m incorrect ❤️🩹 Also decided to reupload this to see how it’ll do + I made some minor changes.
Valentino:
Your sentiments about Valentino were mixed. As a bartender, the last thing you wanted to do was chat it up with the patrons, especially because they usually only spoke to you to try to get into your pants. While the moth wasn’t that blatantly obvious with his intentions, the language he used with you subtle and strangely bordering along sweet, you knew what he did for a living.
He was a pimp, exploiting people for money and power, so you didn’t trust him all that much. Still, you couldn’t help but find him…attractive, appreciating the moth from afar with fleeting glances. That was all you allowed yourself to do, prohibiting your mind from traveling past the superficial thoughts, and you made sure of it by being curt with Valentino whenever you interacted with him.
You did this for the longest time, but then Velvette convinced you to play a game of Truth or Dare one night, and suddenly, you had to interact with the moth in the worst way possible. “I dare you to call Val daddy,” She said, immediately halting what you were doing as you processed her words. Had she noticed the way you looked at Valentino? No, there was no way she had…or had she?
“I’m sorry, what?” You stammered, setting down the glass you were cleaning. “Come on, Vel—why the fuck should I do that?”
“Got a bone to pick with that fucker, that’s why,” Velvette said, shrugging before tapping the counter, asking for another drink. “Trust me, babe, he won’t hurt a single hair on your head.”
You complied, feeling slightly relieved that her dare had just been a mere coincidence. Slightly. You still had to call the moth daddy, which was weird because how the hell would that constitute as payback? That’s what you wondered as you grabbed a bottle of tequila, serving Velvette a shot knowing damn well that she preferred cocktails.
“Okay, but that doesn’t help me understand why I should do it,” You said, sliding the shot to her.
“Look, you’ll understand when you do it, alright?” Velvette said, shooting you a dirty look before downing it like a champ in front of you. “Also, never mind calling him daddy,” She added, and you would have sighed in relief if she hadn’t continued, “Say ‘Papi,’ or however the fuck you say daddy in Spanish.”
Yeah, if you used the Spanish version on Valentino, you weren’t going to be able to walk away from him—literally. You might as well ask him to fuck you. As you opened your mouth to protest, a familiar face slid onto the stool next to Velvette. ‘Fuck,’ you thought, averting your eyes and focusing on the dirty glasses you had set aside, trying not to panic.
“Do what?” Valentino asked, chuckling when Velvette shot him a glare over her shoulder.
“Nothing.”
“Uh-huh.”
Even though the background was filled with the chattering of people and the incessant sound of slot machines being used, the silence that enveloped the bar was painfully loud. You decided to speak up, the tension between the two overlords only serving to exacerbate your anxiety.
“So, uh, what d’ya want, Val?” You asked, clearing your throat.
Valentino turned to you with a hum, his antennas moving at the sound of your voice. As he faced you, you were glad that he had no pupils, irises, or whatever they were called, feeling only slightly intimidated under his stare. Your throat bobbed in anticipation as you watched him contemplate your question, though.
“Hm, tell me, what does the pretty little barkeep recommend?” Valentino eventually asked, his gold tooth glinting under the dim light as he grinned.
“Well, what are you craving?” You asked, backing up and leaning onto the counter behind you, gesturing to the various liquors around you, “I can make you anything—been doing this shit for a long time.”
“You know what? Surprise me.”
Valentino perched his chin on top of his knuckles, intent on watching you work. You mentally sighed, turning around and grabbing the first bottle of liquor you saw, which happened to be rum. It was easy to make something good out of it, so you had a cocktail whipped up for the moth in no time.
“Here ya go—oh! Where’s Velvette?” You asked as you turned around, the stool next to Valentino empty.
“Over there being a fucking piss baby,” He gestured to the other side of the bar with his head. “Nothing new.”
Velvette moved several stools down while you were making Valentino’s drink, which was a bit funny to think about, admittedly. She looked pissed, but he didn’t seem to care, his claws brushing against the back of your hand as he accepted the cocktail. You mentally cursed yourself out for the way your body reacted to the gesture, goosebumps littering your skin.
“Thank you, cariño.”
You were about to ask Valentino if he liked his drink, but then you felt something hit your arm, looking down at your feet to see a crumpled piece of napkin. Yeah, it had to be Velvette. You raised your head to look at her, and oh, did you regret doing that, the way she mouthed “Do it,” with a serious expression making your heart drop.
Chewing your lip, you backed up, hoping that everything would turn out fine. It probably would, especially as Valentino wasn’t that much of a threat compared to the other Vees. You couldn’t even imagine a worst case scenario if you wanted to…unless it had to do with the whole avoiding him thing—then no, everything would not turn out fine.
“So, did I do you right?” You asked, trying your best to appear nonchalant as you leaned over the counter.
You suddenly became painfully aware of everything Valentino did, but you particularly liked the way his antennas moved whenever you spoke, seemingly delighted by the sound of your voice. He placed his drink down on the counter, slightly craning his neck as he took in the sight of you. This was the longest you had ever interacted with him for, and judging by the look on his face, he knew that.
“Of course you did,” Valentino chuckled, the nickname affecting you more than the first time, “It would have been obvious if you hadn’t, no?”
“Right,” You said, feeling Velvette’s stare burn into the side of your head.
Valentino offered you a sly smile as he picked up his drink, but before he could attach his lips to the rim, you reached out and wrapped your hand around his. The way his eyes widened as you leaned in and helped yourself to something that was not yours felt so…powerful. He quickly recovered, though, and you knew that when the scent of cigarettes and alcohol wafted into your nostrils.
“Hm, yes, it would have been obvious,” You hummed, throat bobbing as you swallowed the alcohol.
“I told you,” Valentino said, thinking he had you right where he wanted you.
“I just had to make sure, y’know?” You said, resting your cheek on your palm, looking up at him through your lashes. “Now how’s about you do me right, papi?”
Just like that, Valentino switched up, recoiling as the word left your lips. It’s not that he didn’t like it—no, he fucking loved it. In fact, he’d rail you right there on the counter, forcing you to call him papi over and over again until your voice went hoarse. But the moth knew that you’d never willingly do that, the way Velvette cackled on the other side of the bar a testament of that.
Now, Valentino was pissed, and because you couldn’t tell who it was directed at, you tried to apologize. “I didn’t—“ You started, but then he grabbed your face, bringing you in for a searing kiss that left you feeling rather…dizzy, intoxicated even. “Once I handle this pinche puta desagradecida,” Valentino spoke against your lips, a wicked smile on his face as he watched a pink streak trickle down the corner of your mouth, your eyes half-lidded, “I’ll do you right, baby, mm?” You could only nod, feeling defeated, but at least he’d make you feel good.
Angel Dust:
The first person you befriended at the Hazbin Hotel was Angel Dust. He was friendly—too friendly, even—but you didn’t mind. You liked him, and honestly, you thought he liked you too. But then you saw how often he seemed to be in Husk’s space, never missing an opportunity to invite him into his bed. That is why you took everything Angel said or did with a grain of salt, failing to notice the way he looked at you longingly from across the room, wishing that you reciprocated his feelings.
But when Angel introduced you to Cherri Bomb, a close friend of his, you started to have second thoughts about everything. She quirked a brow at you an hour into a game of Truth or Dare, her eyes darting between you and Angel, who was practically glued to your side. You shrugged Cherri off, though, because what were you supposed to tell her that she didn’t know?
“Shit, ran outta beer. I’m gonna go get me anotha’ one,” Angel announced as he stood up from his spot on the couch. “Don’t ya two play without me, alright?”
Yeah, Cherri didn’t care, and she made that known as she turned to you with a wicked smile on her face. “Truth or Dare?” She asked you, taking a swig of her beer as she waited for your response. You didn’t want to come off as lame, so you put on a brave face and said dare, never anticipating that she’d make you confront Angel in the dumbest way possible.
“Bold—I like it!” Cherri said, looking over her shoulder before suddenly seizing the collar of your shirt. “Come ‘ere, darling.”
“What are you—“ You started.
But you interrupted yourself with a gasp, your faces only a few centimeters apart as she pulled you in. What the Hell was Cherri up to? You wondered, your nose crinkling when her breath fanned against your face. She eventually turned away and settled her lips next to your ear, which you were glad about…until she hit you with something even more unpleasant.
“I dare ya to call Angel daddy,” Cherri said, letting you go before you could process her words.
You shook your head, confused by the idea of calling Angel a term he sometimes referred to himself as. And what would calling him daddy achieve, exactly? Except for making things awkward between the two of you.
“I’m sorry, what?“ You stuttered in disbelief. “That’s—no! I can’t do that!”
“Wait, nah, you’re right,” Cherry said, but she wasn’t agreeing with what you thought she was agreeing to. “Do you know Italian? ‘Cause I think it’d be more effective if you said it in Italian.”
“No,” You deadpanned.
“It’s like, papino, or uh, paparino? Some shit like that. But neither sound that hot, ya know?” Cherry continued. “You can just call him papi, ehh…no, papino.”
“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” You scoffed.
Angel liked Husk, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in between that—or did you?
“What? You gonna pussy out?”
No, you were not, but out of all the things Cherri could have dared you to do, why…that? She laid back on the couch adjacent from you, innocently swinging her legs over the armrest as you rested your face in your palms. You were so busy mentally cursing yourself for caring about how Cherri perceived you that you jumped when the couch dipped next to you.
“Is everythin’ alright with ya?” Angel asked you, your eyes widening when he settled a hand on your back.
As his fingers delicately stroked your spine, an act that felt intimate and therefore forbidden, you figured out Cherri’s reasoning behind her dare. You lowered your hands, peering up at Angel to see him looking down at you with genuine concern. His hand halted as your eyes scoured his face, but when a blush creeped up his neck, embarrassment flooded your brain.
Angel didn’t even look at Husk like that, you realized, most likely fooling around with the poor old bartender because you didn’t seem to reciprocate his feelings. That was a painful thought, but you had no time to beat yourself up over that, especially with Cherri watching you and Angel thinking something was wrong with you.
“Shit—no, sorry,” You quickly said, straightening your back and offering him a smile.
“Are ya sure, honey?” Angel asked, your stomach flipping at the endearing term. That was a first. “Ya took, like, quite a while to answer.”
“Yeah, do ya need to cool down for a sec?” Cherri added, a smug look on her face.
Of course she was acting innocent. But it made sense, considering that the two of you continued to play the game despite Angel telling you not to do so.
“Nah, trust me, I’m good,” You said, trying not to glare at her.
“Ehh, I’m startin’ to think that somethin’ happened while I was away,” Angel said, folding his arms as his eyes darted between the two of you, obviously suspicious.
Cherri downed the rest of her beer, saving herself from having to respond to the spider and leaving you completely at his mercy. It was times like these where you regretted skimping on drinking, so you had no other choice but to get over the stupid dare.
“Yeah, I have no idea what you’re going on about,” You said, leaning back into the couch and crossing your legs.
“I ain’t blind! The two of ya are actin’ all weird and shit,” Angel said, standing up and wildly gesturing around himself with his hands. “I was only away for a few minutes, so what the Hell did ya guys talk about in such a short span of time, huh?”
“Oh, you wanna talk about ‘actin’ all weird and shit’?” You got up from the couch and approached the spider.
Cherri sat up, interested to see what you were up to. You weren’t a pussy, and you were going to show her that.
“I—uh, what?” Angel shook his head, his brows knitted in confusion.
“Please, you act weird all the damn time!” You started, observing how flustered he was under your stare. “Yet I don’t tell you shit.”
“I don’t know what ya talkin’ about—“ Angel started.
“Bullshit.”
You placed a hand on his shoulder, his body immediately growing tense. This was the first time that you had touched Angel, so you weren’t entirely surprised to see him react the way that he did. But when you trailed your hand down, your fingers disappearing into the fluff of his chest, that just proved to you that whatever he felt towards you was different.
“This—do you feel this?” You asked him, noticing the way his heart-rate picked up underneath your palm. “Yeah, that’s what you do to me all the time.”
“This—do you feel this?” You asked him, noticing the way his heart-rate picked up underneath your palm. “Yeah, that’s what you do to me all the time.”
“I, uh—it ain’t no different than how I treat Husk,” Angel weakly countered, a nervous chuckle escaping his throat.
“I’m not talking about Husk,” You said, trying not to glare at Cherri as she squealed. “I’m talking about this,” You placed your hand directly over his heart.
“I make ya feel like…this?” Angel stuttered, reaching up to place his hand over yours.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t ya tell me anythin’?”
“Because of Husk.”
Angel stared right through you, thinking about how the two of you could have been together if you’d been honest from the start. That was what you gathered from his facial expressions, observing how they alternated between happiness and disappointment.
“I feel like such a jackass,” Angel admitted, pulling you in by the waist with his second set of arms. “All this time ya liked me, and I thought ya didn’t ‘cause—ah, I fucked up, huh?”
“Hey, I didn’t say anything either,” You smiled at him.
“That don’t compare to what I did,” Angel scoffed. “I mean, the whole time we could’ve—“
“How about you shut up and give me a kiss, papino,” You said, reaching up to cradle his face, thumb caressing his cheekbone.
You would have received your kiss if you hadn’t added the last part, but hey, you weren’t complaining. The way Angel melted in your arms was reward enough. “Did ya really learn Italian…just for me?” He asked you, too busy swooning over you to notice how your arms trembled as you held him. “Yeah, uh, something like that,” You chuckled, shooting Cherri a glare when she tried to interject. “I think—I think he’s the one that needs to cool down now,” She laughed, but the spider shook his head, mumbling something about wanting to do the opposite in bed with you. Yeah, you were in for a long night.
Credit for Angel’s part:
@/hazbingirliexoxo
(Not sure if they wanted to be tagged again)
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel valentino#hazbin valentino#hazbin valentino x reader#hazbin valentino x you#valentino x reader#valentino x you#hazbin hotel the vees#hazbin the vees#valentino#the vees#hazbin hotel angel dust#hazbin angel dust#hazbin angel dust x reader#hazbin angel dust x you#angel dust x reader#angel dust x you#angel dust#angel dust fluff#cherri bomb#velvette
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