"life Spring"

achilles!megumi…save me…save me, achilles!megumi!

𖦹 WHO HAVE I REMEMBERED? ⇆ touya "dabi" todoroki

┆︎summary ┆︎you find that love can create curses the same way they dismantle them.

┆︎tags┆︎the frog prince au, came back wrong trope, princess reader, prince turned usurper touya, obsessive behavior, survivor's guilt, stockholm syndrome, fade to black sex

┆︎wc┆︎5.1k

┆︎an┆︎my entry for @ljubimaya 's grim nightmares collab ! and special thanks to ethel cains new album for getting me through this. i tried something new with the formatting/writing style cause i wanted to go with discordant storytelling so let me know how you guys like that.

null.

the court whispers that you and your sisters―the kings daughters, were born from the wishes of faeries. and you, the eldest, even more so. what other way could it be explained, besides magic? that the sun kissed your cheeks each morning when it rose, and the world seemed more bleak when you were not around.

you, only short of eleven years, pay little attention to this. in fact, you pay little attention to anything that does not interest you. and lately―your latest obsession is the well outside of the castle gates.

in order to sneak away from your guards and your servants, you don a simple frilled hood and sneak through the passage-ways of the dungeon. and in the palms of your hands is your treasured ball, golden and full of sparkling light. a gift from your mother―who passed giving birth to your youngest sister.

the well reminds you of your mother, you think. and maybe that is why it entrances you so. you sit on it now, half an hour later. the stone is cool and slightly wet, where it touches slivers of bare skin. you toss the golden ball up and catch is easily in your hands. the forest is awake, but not yet bursting with energy. the birds sing their morning songs and occasionally you can hear a shrub rustle in the distance. a rabbit or dear, most likely.

it's soft, but you can hear it. the water inside the well bobbing along.

your mother had been obsessed with water. the ocean, lakes and rivers. she sketched and painted it all of the time. you never understood what was so captivating about them. only that her pieces of art were as beautiful as she had been. as miserable, and bleak, too.

the next toss of your golden ball is much higher, spurned from the strength of escaping thoughts of your deceased mother. you watch as it soars into the air, bright even against the blue sky. it comes hurtling down just as fast and you hold out your hands to catch it. the ball skims past your fingertips and you seem to watch it all in slowed motion as it lands deep within the well with a plop!

you move quickly, bracing your hands over the edge of the well with a gasp. but the well is too dark and much too deep for you to even begin to see to the bottom. even your ball, golden and bright, is swallowed up by its darkness. the tears prick up along your waterline, trickling down your brown cheeks in slow, steady streams before bursting into full-flamed sobs.

you cry and wail, kicking at the side of the well. your fists beat down on the stones and your grief chokes you. your fingers scrape against its surface, taking the moss underneath your nails.

"princess? what's wrong?" a voice calls out, approaching from your left. you turn towards the voice, staring into the face of an impassive young boy. he has a head of shock white hair, blue eyes that seem to stare so hard that they pass through you.

you don't like it. not one bit. you wipe your tears determinedly with the puffed sleeve of your gown, gesturing towards the well.

"i am crying because my golden ball fell in the stupid well" you explain, eyes narrowing with anger as you glare once more at the well. "it was a gift from my mother. i need it"

"i'll get it for you" the boy offered, staring between you and the well in equally unnerving moments.

you scoff, though the boy's foolish gesture warms you anyway. "don't be an idiot. it's gone f-forever. the well is too deep for anyone to go down. especially you, you're too small"

"i can" the boy stresses, which such conviction that it makes you pause. he relaxes the tense line of his shoulders and stares at you for a while longer. you don't know why you feel so inclined to believe him. he's a stranger, and dressed plainly. "for a price"

"whatever you want" you promise, not really thinking about it. your eyes drift to the well. you're going to get your ball back. "how about fancy clothes? pretty gems? a feast thrown in your honor? you can have it all, if you can get my ball back for me"

the boy frowns. "i do not want any of that. i want you to marry me. if you give me your hand, then i will go and get your ball for you"

"alright. fine" you acquiesce, shrugging one shoulder and without so much of another word, the boy jumps into the well. alarmed, you yell out for him, peering over the edge into the dark abyss.

moments later, your ball soars into the air and lands beside your feet with a thud.

one.

your father says socializing is perhaps the most important duty of a princess. engaging with the members of the court, with the nobles―all to find a good match. at just shy of sixteen years, you only care to socialize for the sole purpose of dressing up. spending days on selecting the perfect gown, the shoes to match. the art of your maids styling your hair, applying the gentlest forms of makeup upon your face. coming home to your castle after a long day, just to repeat the process again the next week.

unlike your younger sisters, you thrive at court life. the dancing, the rules of conversation, you understand it all. some part of you likes the attention. the boys who throw themselves at your feet, pushing at one another to please you. it fills your mind with a sense of power, of control.

you press your gloved palm to a lords, a smile dancing on your face as he whisks you across the floor. the music carries you and the lord―unnamed because you care not to know, fluttering from the tips of your toes into the smallest hair on the crown of your head.

the lord begins to pull you in. there's a curly mustache on top of his lip. his hand hovers along the small of your back, prepared to dip you, maybe. you never get a clear conclusion to his actions, because touya is wrenching him away from you.

his blue eyes are narrowed in anger. he heaves a breath, and one scathing look in the lords direction is enough to send the grown man scattering away.

"touya" you whine petulantly, in the middle of the ballroom floor. people turn their heads, sparing you only a glance before tearing away again. they know better than to interrupt the crown prince. and you should know better than to invoke his wrath like this. "that's not fair, i was dancing―"

"his hands were all over you" touya interjects, hissing the words at you. his white hair has been combed neatly and his hands shake when they reach out for you. you allow the movement, and the dance begins anew. touya seems to be replacing the lords hands with his own, touching the small of your back, palms pressed together.

"we're not married yet" you remind him cheekily, letting him spin you around before you're pulled in close once more. your eyes catch on his doublet, the intricate pattern work in his house colors. your dress, empire waist with elegant beadwork has been done to mirror his as well. "father still has to accept your proposal, in fact" its wrong to tease him, you know it is. but you can't help it.

"he will" touya hisses again. his hand tightens around your waist. he's so horribly endearing when he's angry, like a hissing kitten. the crown prince is close to you in age, a year older. where most people are afraid to anger him, fearing his wrath―you can only imagine him being that same fool hearted boy who leaped head first into a well to retrieve your ball for you.

but it is perhaps the wrong thing to say after all, because the crown prince takes one final glance at your smiling face and roughly pulls you from the floor. you protest, trying to pull away. touya only tightens his grip and drags you further into the darkened halls outside of the ballroom.

"touya―mmpfh!" the prince pushes you into one of the rooms, shutting the door behind him with his foot. he presses you against and swallows the sound of his name on your lips with a searing kiss. one of his hands braces against the door behind your head and the other remains possessively on your hip. he brings up one hand briefly to cup your chin, moving your head to deepen the kiss.

you've kissed him before. mostly chaste little things, sweet presses of your mouths together when the two of you are alone. but nothing like this. the way touya kisses you now feels like ownership, devouring your mouth and restricting your movements, knee pushing between your skirts.

his tongue swipes against the seam of your lips. you open them obediently, to which you've earned a gentle caress on your hip, and his tongue twines with yours.

touya pulls away string of saliva connecting your mouths as he stares down at you. you pant, trying to catch your breath―unable to hide the sound that escapes you when he pushes his face into your neck, pressing biting sharp kisses there as well.

your betrothed stops sucking a mark into your neck long enough to bite out the words, "you are my wife, i won't share you. not with anyone." drunk in it you nod along, hand squeezing his shoulders as arousal settles in the bottom of your stomach, new and foreign. "say it."

"i-i'm your wife" you whine into a series of kisses. you aren't married yet. your father is still thinking on the betrothal. he could reject it at any time. he could be rejecting it right now.

touya's hand slides under your skirts, pressing against heated skin, and that doubting little voice falls quiet.

two.

the wedding will go on, no matter your conflicting feelings on it.

it feels too soon. touya died only two years ago. you loved him. it feels wrong to marry someone else. every inch of you is pulling you towards someone you cannot have. you need more time. yet you say nothing, as your maids usher you from the tub into a warm towel. they scrub at your skin, drying the water from your flesh.

the war has just ended. there on the throne, on touya's throne―sits an usurper. your father's people, your people, they have lost loved ones. women who have lost their husbands, much like you have. children, without fathers. resources that are scarce and dwindling. and yet your father thinks a marriage will united the kingdom.

play your part, your father had said. what the people need now is something to make them happy. you stare bitterly into your reflection as the maids bring out the wedding gown. the one you were supposed to be wed in, when you were going to be wed to touya―that one had been destroyed. you don't even want to look at this one. it is like everyone is trying to take his memory from you.

you screw your eyes shut as the dress is pulled onto your frame. lace and tulle scratch against your brown skin. you want to claw out of yourself desperately. to be anyone else.

the maids murmur quietly amongst themselves. you are a vision, they say. you can hide no longer, and your eyes must open. you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror and you hate what you see. its not the dress you would have chosen. you look mature and wise, elegant beyond your years. you look nothing like the girl who chased touya through the gardens, tumbling with him on the grasses.

you look like a queen―regal. you do not look like the girl touya kissed under the moonlight as he held your hand. your hand comes up to your neck absentminded, searching for the ring he had given you, dangling on pure silver. it is not there, you realize a moment too late, and your hand connects with the smooth bare skin there instead.

your eyes slide over to the chest, where you have kept it safe since the night prior. it isn't wise to marry a man with a ring of another around your throat. even you know that.

but still, each step towards your husband-to-be feels traitorous. all eyes are on you, and the wedding march plays and all you can think about is how much you want to run away. but you are a coward, so all you do is keep your head straight as you continue down the aisle of the cathedral.

the priest begins with the ceremony. your heart feels like lead in your stomach and a feeling of pure dread encompasses you. your fingers shake from where they are wrapped around the stem of the bouquet. the man you are to marry stands across from you, smile on his face.

there is nothing to be joyous about. your husband turns that smiling gaze towards you now, and you feel the priests eyes on you as well. you open your mouth to prepare to speak your vows. your voice is hushed and you have to clear your throat softly to try again.

the sounds of men yelling outside wash over the quiet cathedral. several heads turn towards the doors, you among them. there are more shouts and moments later the doors burst open.

even from where you stand, you know by the glint of silvery steel on his helm that this man is the usurper. the man is followed by a small group of armed men as they charge into the cathedral. one of your own knights unsheathes his blade at your fathers command, and you can do nothing but stand there are more blades are uncovered―glinting in the morning light.

you swallow a gasp as the usurper cuts down the knight, spraying blood and viscera among the guests, making his way towards you determinedly. the cathedral is thrown into disarray as the usurper and his men charge, cutting down those who stand in their way. you throw down your bouquet, cursing the tightness of the dress that doesn't allow you much movement at all―trying to flee.

the usurper reaches you, pulling you towards him. several men hold your husband, and even if you did not want to marry him, you bear no ill-will towards him. and when he stabbed through the chest, you cry out for him all the same. the usurper turns towards you once more and he stares at you―you know he is, you can feel it even with the helm obscuring his face.

"let me go! let me go, let me, stop touching me!" you shout, fists pounding against the chest of the usurper. you fight against him, scratching and squirming. though you might as well be kicking mere pebbles against him, with the way he doesn't move. tears cloud your vision and soon your fight wears out of you.

without a word, the usurper reaches forwards―gripping your arm far too gently as he takes the ring from your finger and tosses it among the remains of your husband with a scathing growl.

"i wont' share you" the usurper says, voice gravelly and rough as recognition dawns on you. your eyes widen, and the usurper drags you to the front doors.

"touya?" you ask, eyes glistening with fresh tears. the usurper stiffens but does not answer you.

though, not answering is answer enough.

three.

he insists that you call him dabi, now. the name fills your mouth with bile and so you refuse. he is touya―you have to believe that the man who stands before you now is your touya. he is still yours. sour and mercurial. the touya that loves you deeply, that loves you purely. dabi is the one who yells, who accuses you of horrible things―of abandoning him. who tells you that this, the life you live now, is your fault.

the ballroom carries on in merry feasting. everyone present seems to be wholly engrossed in dancing, in the meal. no one pays much attention to the usurper king and his wife. or perhaps, they are all like you―pretending that nothing has changed.

touya's arm leans across your chair, draping over your shoulder. it is a miracle that you do not shudder when his fingers dance along the skin of your jaw. his mouth presses close to your ear and you can feel him gently playing with the neckline of your wedding dress. "are the festivities not to your liking?" he inquires, whispering. this time, you do shudder.

"i-i'm content" you reply, swallowing your nerves. you can feel the way touya continues to stare at you. a month ago, still new to your life here as the usurpers wife―you tried everything you could to rebel. you refused to eat, scratched at him every time he came near.

and one morning, he had the chefs prepare your favorite. fluffy pancakes, drowning in sticky syrup. sliced fruit and yogurt on the side. a tall glass of chilled orange juice, free of pulp. again―you had refused the meal. dabi had leaned over you on the bed, gently cupping your cheek.

"is it not to your liking, wife?" he had asked, always with the wife. as if he was making up for lost time. but to you, it only felt like a reminder of your place beside him. you had stubbornly shook your head and moments later dabi had the chefs brought into your chambers and slain.

you do not doubt for a second that dabi would have every noble in this room slain if he felt like it, guided by twisted morals. you don't want anyone else to die for you. you don't want him to kill anyone else. "i'm happy, touya" you say once more, plastering a smile onto your face. you force yourself to look at him―the scars and the charred flesh. his hair, dyed black now. the soullessness of his blue eyes.

moments of silence pass. you play with your hands in your lap, anxious as you wait for his visible displeasure to pass. touya continues to stare at you, and without another word, he stands.

fear washes over you. he stares down at you, eyes roving over your face. "we're to retire for the night, my dear" he says, sounding almost like touya again as he helps you from your chair. you know what's to come.

guards are posted up and down the halls, spears raised and at the ready. each nods in your direction, acknowledging their king and queen. touya moves steadily forwards getting closer to your shared chambers.

you had caved once, earlier in the week, and asked one of your elder servants how her first time had gone. her hair was graying and you knew she must have a had a child already. she did not answer you, not immediately, braiding down your hair.

"it's going to hurt" she told you, staring down at you pityingly "men do not understand that they have to be gentle, for a maidens first time. you have to relax and let the worst of it pass"

touya's mouth claims yours the moment you two are alone. it feels invasive, like he's trying to crawl into your body from your mouth and stay there. you try to kiss him back, but he dominates the kiss so easily, moving you this way and that. his hands deftly undo the buttons on the back of your wedding gown, pressing fevered kisses to your neck once the slope of skin is exposed to him.

"there is not a single woman in the world who compares to you" touya whispers, pushing you down onto the bed gently. his eyes meet yours in the dim lighting as he kneels before you. his hands undo the straps of your shoes, lightly massaging your foot, then your calf and then up to your knee. "in beauty, in grace. i have lived my entire life in your image, and i will continue to do so still. you have entranced me mind, body and soul"

he is reciting his vows to you, you realize somewhat dazedly, as he pushed the gown from your shivering frame. clad in only your undergarments, the air chills you. his teeth nip at a sensitive part of your throat, pulling a meek sound from your lips.

touya's hands hover above your body before slowly touching the bare skin of your legs. he kisses you once more, humming into it as his hands caress flesh. like he can't quite believe you're real. you've never been touched like this before, and your stomach curls when his hands skirt around your pelvis.

his hair tickles the skin just underneath your breasts. you look down when you feel his face pressing into your stomach. touya groans, loudly. "you're so soft" he whispers, nearly feverish with it. you don't know what to say to that, so you say nothing. his face presses further into your skin and he smells you, groaning again―like he's trying to push past the layer and live in your bones instead. even that level of closeness may not be close enough for him, you realize with slight horror.

"like vanilla" touya murmurs, hooking two of his scarred fingers over your underwear and slowly pulling them down your legs. touya's gunmetal blue eyes are focused onto your cunt, like a predator right before it strikes. blindly, touya brings the silken garment to his nose before he tucks your underwear into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"you can't―!" you protest in embarrassment, squeezing your legs together as shame fills you. you only realize entirely too late that this does nothing but expose more of your privates to him, and before you can try to shift your position, touya is pulling your legs apart once more.

touya dances his pointer down the length of your inner thigh, and then once more. he drags it down from your hooded clit to your entrance. "so pretty" he murmurs. the attention causes you to shiver and in return, touya finally looks up to face you. "are you a maiden?" he asks, as if he does not already know the answer.

"touya―" you reply, nearly whiny. his fingers continue to trace your outer lips, and them pushing them aside to drift between your folds.

"dabi" touya corrects sternly, but doesn't bother saying anything more on that subject, too engrossed in playing with you. "answer me."

you can feel yourself getting wet. it is the single most embarrassing thing in the world. you don't know if its his tone of voice, the way touya plays with you―somehow both nonchalant and obsessive about being in-between your legs. "y-yes. i'm untouched"

not truly. there was that time at the ball. but touya had used only his fingers, bringing you to completion quickly. you wonder if he can even remember it.

"do you touch yourself?" a shake of your head. touya presses more insistently, grazing them along your sensitive nub as he stares at your face for a reaction. "with words" a harder press and this time a tiny sound escapes you, hardly above a gasp and your cunt throbs, clenching around nothing.

"i haven't" you answer dutifully, voice shaky as another gasps escapes you. "please-"

touya laughs. it sounds cruel and condescending all at once. he brings those eyes back up to your face. "do you even know what your asking for?"

your thighs press together. you don't. touya knows you don't.

"i thought not" touya chuckles, spreading your legs once more. he drags you none too gently down the length of your bed, and settles his lower half against it. his fingers continue their gentle petting, mouth placing little kisses against your inner thighs that have you squeezing your eyes shut as more slick pools from your cunt.

"but that's alright, isn't it?" he asks, and you open your mouth to speak when you realize that he isn't talking to you. touya licks a broad stroke up your cunt, pulling a little squeal from your lips before drawing back to kiss your clit. "you just need your husband to figure everything out for you, don't you sweetheart?"

four.

"i could get in so much trouble for this" you say, as touya helps you cross over a path of stones. you hold your skirts up in your hands as he guides you along. "if my father finds out i've left, it could ruin my reputation"

"why do you need a reputation?" touya replies, looking at you with a perplexed expression―like he really can't understand the concept. it is entirely too endearing for your liking. touya is supposed to be a pest, he is a pest. but you like having him around all the time. "i'm going to be the one to marry you, why does any of that matter?"

you feel yourself flushing. he hasn't let that go, and you don't think he ever will. you are grateful that it is too dark out for touya to see you properly. you don't say anything else, refusing to give in. instead, you allow yourself to be led along, trying to puzzle out where exactly touya is taking you.

"oh wow" you breathe, as you reach your destination at last. the moon stretches over the forest floor, glittering against a lulling stream. the grasses tickle against your ankles, and you are surrounded by a sea of blue flowers. there are fireflies, and their lights illuminate the prince's face. "touya, where are we?" it's hard to believe such a place has existed so near to your kingdom.

"its not too far from the well where i met you" touya says, staring at you. your head whips to stare back at him. your eyes drift slowly away from touya, and back to the sea where you find yourself immersed in. the blue is not so far away from the color of touya's eyes, you realize. the thought does not bother you. "do you like them? the flowers? i do not think they are nearly as beautiful as you are, but they will have to do"

you flush again. you have been told that you are beautiful, hundreds of times. maybe even thousands. yet the way that touya says it is...it is not the same. "will have to do for what?" you ask, turning back around.

"i do love you" touya says, stepping close to kiss your cheek, then then corner of your mouth. you both meet in the middle to sweetly kiss. touya takes your hand in his, and you gasp into the kiss when you feel something cold slide onto your finger. your eyes fly down, wide as saucers as you stare down at the ring.

"touya―"

"it isn't silly and childish. i knew i would marry you the day i saw you crying at the well" he continues, watching your expression as you lift your hand to your face. "i am in love with you. i will never love anyone else. nothing compares to you. you have bewitched me ; mind, body and soul"

you can only stare at him.

but touya knows your silence is a good one. a soft smile dawns on his face as he stares at you. he brings your ring-adorned hand up to his mouth, and kisses every finger. his eyes do not stray from yours. when has touya turned into such a romantic?

"i've spent my entire life under the thumb of my father" touya murmurs. "i did not have anything to live for. but you. i want you more than anything in the world. we will be wed soon. you only need wait a little longer. can you do that for me?"

a shiver befalls you.

the scene breaks. the doors open, and you start from the pleasant memory. you turn towards the doors, gazing into the stern face of your father.

nervously, you reach below the neckline of your daygown and pull out the ring touya gave you, suspended by a silver chain. "my letters to touya, has there been any answer?" you inquire. the same as you do everyday when your father comes to visit you.

nearly a year of silence. you have never gone so long without any word from him. it scares you.

yet the air around you feels oppressive, heavy. you bring your attentions away from the ring around your neck to look at your father. his face is pinched, heavy. he does not have good news, you realize, and your heart drops to your stomach at the thought of it.

"father?" you ask, standing hurriedly. "what is the matter?"

your father only grimaces, and gestures for you to sit back down. you obey, gripping the material of the setee in a tight grip. "the prince is dead" you shake your head. a second time, and then a third as tears well up into your eyes. "a fire, in the east wing of the castle"

five.

you rub your lower skin softly, mind elsewhere. the cross stitch in your hands has long since been abandoned.

the wind blows, rustles your gowns as you sit alone in the gardens. touya has been gone for three days now―on business. he is soon to return. though you wish for his carriage to fall of a mountain anyway. it hadn't the last time, so you know it won't this time either. and he may not be with you physically, but you feel the hold he has on you all the same.

hard not to, when everyone has given you such a wide berth. they know that talking to you for too long, smiling in your direction. complimenting your hair ; any of it could incur his wrath. and those who angered the usurper king were all quickly disposed of. the news of your pregnancy has only seemed to worsen his possessive streak.

a shadow falls over you, blocking out your light. hands fall on your shoulder. you no longer have the strength to resist him.

"i've returned" touya says softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your cheek. his hand travels down your body, laying over your own, gently caressing your belly. "how have you fared, in my absence?"

"i am content" you reply, softly. obediently you tip your head back and allow him to kiss you for real. "happy" you say, and the lie tastes like ash in your mouth.

touya hums into the kiss. "and the babe?" he inquires, eyes landing on your slightly swollen belly.

"another story entirely" you tell him, and your husband laughs. the sound of it fills you with dread and you want to fling yourself from the highest tower. but you are a coward, above all―and so all you do is smile and let him lead you back into your chambers.

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

me when the fic i imagined has a long detailed plot with more than one smut scene and i realize i can't get it done in a day or two :

the amount of people suddenly liking and reblogging that one sukuna fic make me seriously consider a part two

KUROO I LOVE YOU KUROOOOO 😖

༉ ease your mind.

cw — wlw. ambessa x f!reader. ambesscock. that’s it that’s the fic. fingering. slight orgasm denial if you squint. pussy slapping. overstimulation. creampie. ambessa loves her stupid little wife (not outwardly said but. yk). ambessa has a huge cock and it almost kills reader (not clickbait!!!)

you stood at the balcony of your palatial-like room, the cold air of the evening hitting your cheeks as your brows furrowed. ambessa sighed at the sight. you were her prized possession, she cleared the rust from you and made you lustrous; now, you were gradually dulling. she couldn’t let that happen. “your performance reflects your effort, little one. you’ve been dragging your feet all week.”

you internally winced at her words. there was no getting around ambessa, no slick tricks or batting eyelashes could conceal how you really felt. “you’re spending too much time in your head. no more of this self-deprecating prattle; you’re fine.” she said finally.

“right..” you exhaled under your breath.

she huffed. if there was one thing she loved about you, it was your compliance. not that it started that way; you had thorns in your words, much to her chagrin. “you disagree,” she noted.

you were a bit too quick to answer, “i do not,”

“no?” she raised an eyebrow at you. another weird shot in your stomach at the slightly teasing tone in her voice. “it’s… it’s silly.” you gulped. “silly.” that was the word you decided? it surprised her even though it shouldn’t. “humor me.”

your eyes briefly flicked to her face for a moment before you looked back down, sighing defeatedly. damn her. “i.. have been dissatisfied with my performance lately. and i fear you have to.” you muttered, you almost thought she didn’t hear you and would coax you to speak louder. but she understood you just clearly. she just didn’t understand why. “so?” you raised an eyebrow at her, looking up at her, continuing as she didn’t let you get the chance to speak yet. “i would have said something to you if i had any grievances. do you doubt my methods?”

mouth slightly gape, you closed it and swallowed again, looking down at the white cement beneath you, “n..no.” ambessa smirked. “no?” she repeated. “then do not waste your brain on such frivolous matters. or do you need a reminder on who exactly you belong to?”

“i-i..” somehow, you were just now made aware of her very close proximity to you. maybe a little too close if you weren’t busy rubbing your thighs together at the mere idea.

“i think you do.”

—

a violent, shuttering breath came from your chest as ambessa’s thick fingers worked amongst your slit, teasing up and down slowly before she rubbed firm yet calculated circles on your clit. gripping the red silk sheets for dear life, and she barely even started. “isn’t this better, hm? a great difference than whatever nonsense you had in that little head of yours.” you sobbed at her teasing, quickly throwing your head back when she added a thick finger inside you. you already felt so full, what more could she have?

you tried your absolute hardest to not squirm and writhe under her when she added another finger, the lewd squelching of your aroused pussy echoing the sumptuous walls. “absolute submission suits you far better, darling..” she drawled while slyly adding a third finger. you nodded dumbly, agreeing to whatever eloquent words she cooed to you. they made your pussy drool hot, creamy juices that made her stomach churn in satisfaction. you pleaded and gasped, her scarred forearm never faltering when your nails dug into it.

to her truimph of having you exactly where she wanted, she removed her fingers, licking them clean shamelessly. messily. like she was sampling piltover cuisine again. except this time it was from your pretty pussy, which automatically made it 10x better than the diplomatic, ‘progressive’ city.

you whine at the loss, bucking your hips up to desperately chase the feeling again until a harsh slap met your cunt, making you squeak and close your thighs together instinctively. “don’t be greedy,” she growled, her blunt hands grabbing the supple skin of your thighs and spreading them wide open for her. you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so incredibly aroused right now. “good girls don’t get rewarded if they’re inattentive. behave.” she leaned down to say firmly in your ear. you had no other choice but to nod your head, sniffling in compliance.

“your words, girl.”

“y-yes, ambessa.”

“good,” she smirked, leaning up again, lazily undoing her pants with an unreadable expression on her face. she knew you loved this sight of her, standing tall at the edge of the bed as you anticipated for what’s going to come next. it gave you a grueling feeling in your stomach, yet you chased it. chased her. with a scarred hand, she guided her cock out of the tight and inconvenient confines of her pants, mostly, if not already rock hard. dribbles of precum ran from her slit, making your mouth water at the sight, desperately wanting a taste. but not right now. was she twitching from the cool air of the room, or is she just simply built up and found the chance to finally fuck you? it was probably both.

she didn’t even let you breathe before you felt your knees rub against your chest and pulling you further to the edge of the bed, her slick tip sliding up against your slit, making you shudder. “let me show you how i value your excellence above anything else.” she finally sunk her cock into you, inch by inch, making you cry out. she wasn’t even fully in you yet. “breathe,” she cooed, guiding you through it was the least she could do. she held your legs steady as she sunk even further into you, biting your lip to alleviate the slight uncomfortableness. all of this, for you? the least you could do is just sit there and take it.

but, as soon as the pain faded away, you almost instantly became drunk on her cock, every snap of her hips knocked the wind out of you. your pussy salivated on her, smearing on her stomach and thighs and even on the bed, but she didn’t care. in fact, she encouraged it so much she forced you to look down at the sheer mess you were making. you were embarrassed, but the way you felt her cock twitch and hearing her groan when she saw the way she glided in and out of you made it worth it.

she made you pliable. a moldable, sticky mess, like you were designed by the gods to piece together perfectly like a complicated and difficult puzzle. “please, please please..” you whined, feeling her splitting you open. you were so full of her it was like you could fucking feel her in your throat, her cock kissing and bruising you in places you were unaware of until this evening. she was too big, you finalized— yet you could take it, she knew you could. each pant, moan and whine made that very clear to her.

“just fabulous..” she praised under her breath, appreciating how it earned a squeeze and twitches from your dewy, spongy walls. she knew you were getting close, dangerously so. she never relented her pace, having you babble and slur out nonsense, praise for her fucking you so good, thanking her for fixing your silly self-deprecating problems. she simply smirked and exchanged back filth to your slushed mind, but her smirk would slightly falter as she felt herself growing closer to release as well.

“‘bessa, gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, fuck—!!” you were only met with a nod, a final command as you followed it, like always. sobbing helplessly, a final, brutal slam made you gush everywhere, sinking herself down as you came unbelievably hard, your moans borderline whorish when you felt her cum deep inside you, a few shallow thrusts to ensure no drop escaped.

she barely even broke a sweat, yet you were under her fucked out of your mind, thighs twitching in mock-withdrawal in her hands, face ridden with tears and sweat. you were looked a mess, but you never looked more gorgeous in ambessa’s eyes.

her eyes widened softly as your arms wrapped around her neck and pulled her closer to you, but she made no attempt to pull away. she chuckled at your deprivation, rewarding you with a kiss on the side of your lips. “it seems like i hadn’t fail you this time.” you nodded and let out a meek “no” in response. you were too weak to speak at the moment.

you just wanted to selfishly bask in her embrace just a wee longer, wanting your skin to be hers for just a moment.

© 7KH 2024, all rights reserved — do not claim, modify, copy or translate my content.

if i accidentally click on the tumblr tv feature ONE MORE TIME!!!

FRIENDS WHO PLAY TOGETHER STAY TOGETHER ! ! — ARCANE

( tw ) f!reader. FF pairings. modern AU! masterbation. fingering. squirting. cunillings. dry humping. reader is kinda possessive in Vi’s. some yearning.

featuring. Violet, Caitlyn Kiramman & Mel Madarda

authors note. When you off that honey packet and ur home girl the only one in vicinity. Mel is so 🤭 I can’t she my type to a teeee. Anyways I’m about to go watch Act 2 WISH ME LUCK IM SCARED. Also idk how I feel about Kaits part I could do better 😔

VIOLET 

You and Vi were at another one of your friends' sleepovers. You didn't wanna come, you wanted to spend the Saturday just the two of you, alone. You hated sharing her attention, she was your best friend. You were each other's number one, why did you need other friends when you two were each other's everything. It was late now, almost everyone was sleeping or about to fall asleep when Vi crawled between the bodies of people to where you were laying. You didn’t notice until you felt the familiar embrace of her against your back. Despite yourself, you felt yourself relaxing against her body.  

“Are you still mad at me?” she whispered into your ear before placing a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder. “You know my favorite person. You have nothing to worry about.”  

“Yeah, whatever.” You grumbled. You weren't truly mad anymore but you knew what came next, what Vi did to reassure you that you were special to her. Her only best friend. You weren’t surprised when her hips rocked into your ass, when she pressed her tits against your back nor when her hand traveled underneath your oversized sleep shirt and cupped your breast. 

“Vi…” You sighed nuzzling into the arm underneath your head. She tightened her grip on your breast and rocked her hips into you. You push back harder and soon enough you guys find a rhythm. Your ass pushing down on her hips when she grinds up into you. Her callused palm grazes your nipple and you whine softly. She whimpers into your shoulder, finger going to your nipple when she pulls and twists. You wish her mouth was on you, you wish your mouth was on her. You turn your head to her “I love you the most. My favorite forever.”  

You feel her smile into your shoulder. “You're so beautiful, you know that?” translation: I love you too. 

MEL MEDARDA 

You couldn’t believe it. Your best friend’s tongue was inside of you. Licking you. Her lips were sucking on your clit, her teeth were biting your pussy lips. You could hear how wet you were—you could feel yourself leaking all over her face. “Mel!” You scream out into the dark room before slamming your hands over your own mouth. You don’t want anyone to see you—you don’t want her mother to see you, what a scene she would make. Seeing her daughter nose deep into her childhood best friend. Mel pulls her mouth off your clit with an embarrassingly loud pop. “Do you feel that? This is how you’re supposed to eat pussy darling.” She smiles when you just nod. Afraid that if you remove your hands from your mouth, you might confess something you don’t want.  

Plus, this was just a favor, strictly platonic, you were just friends. That’s why she was eating you out in the first place—you wanted to finally dip your toe into the dating scene but you were scared because you were inexperienced, you didn’t wanna leave your future partners disappointed in your nonexistence skills. And that’s where your best friend came in. Where you didn’t know anything about sex, she knew what felt like everything. Though you never saw her with anyone, she talked like she knew the ins and outs of men and women and she offered to teach you.  

“Now after you use your mouth and get them wet you wanna bring in your fingers, like this.” Mel grabs one of your thighs and pushes it down, giving her a better view of your dripping pussy before using her free hand and pushing a slender finger into you. You gasp. “I know you’ve fingered yourself before sweets, how many fingers have you shoved into this pretty pussy?” 

You whimper, hesitantly removing your hands. “T-two Melly.” You answer bashfully, using the nickname you gave her when you were children. She hums and adds another. You bite your lip, lower abdomen clenching when she curls them into your spongy g-spot. 

“Now pay attention to me alright?” She leans down to place a kiss on your pubs, leaving a trail of light kisses until she reaches your clit. She moves her hand out of you and a fast pace, fingers curling when she knuckles deep. You moan at the feeling of her hand pounding into you.  

She gives your clit a few kitten lips before wrapping her full lips around the swollen area. She bits hard enough for you to wince before she starts sucking. You feel yourself coming apart on her face before you can stop yourself. She hurriedly removes her fingers, mouth sucking you even harder when you feel liquid gush out of you. You grab the back of her head and scream. You can’t stop it, you don’t want to. You throw your thigh over her head and curl your foot into her back, still riding the high. When your pussy stops shooting the mysterious liquid out Mel’s fingers find themselves back inside, four this time. 

You feel tears collecting in the corner of your eyes, as she finger-fucks you. Mel pops back off your abused clit to whisper praises, good girl, you're doing so good, look at how well you take me, you feel heavenly, and when she goes back to playing with your clit you know you don’t want anyone to fuck you unless it’s her. Maybe you can ask her to teach you how to give hickeys next. 

CAITYLYN KIRAMMAN 

You were horny. Cait was horny. You both kept glancing at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking, sussing out what the other was thinking. The movie you guys were watching was a rating away from being straight porn. When it was over you, both decided to call it a night. It was late she said. You guys had class tomorrow you said. When the lights turned off, you both said goodnight and laid down in your shared bed. You two were so close and loved being near each other that on the first day of the semester you pushed your twin beds together. Oh, how you were regretting that idea now. All you wanted to do was fuck yourself. You knew you weren’t going to fall asleep without an orgasm and so after twenty minutes when you thought Cait was asleep, you found your hand traveling into your boy shorts. You sighed in relief when your fingers grazed your throbbing clit. You rubbed it for a few seconds before shoving two fingers into yourself. 

That relief was short-lived when you heard a breathy moan that didn’t come from you. You tensed up and stopped. When you didn't hear anything—maybe she was making those noise in her sleep—you slowly started to move your fingers in and out, palm rubbing against your clit. You bite your lip to stifle a moan and turn onto your back. You could barely move your fingers in and out lying on your side. You part your legs and moan when you finally hit your G-spot. You're so horny but your imagination isn't cutting it. Opening your eyes you turn your head to find the outline of your best friend who was the star in some of your fantasies, her hourglass figure would for sure spark a fantasy. When your eyes adjust to the dark you're shocked to see Cait staring back at you, her blanket pooling at her hips when you could see her hand abruptly stop moving. Your Cait was masturbating too, in the same bed as you. A grin spreads along your face. 

“I-I’m not—”  

“I am.” You whisper, pushing your blanket off you. Her eyes immediately latch onto where your fingers are slowly pushing in and out. Your other hand comes up to your tank top where you push your shirt down. Your breasts spill out. Cait’s face turns into a tomato, eyes widening even more than they already are. She doesn't remove her gaze from your breasts when she starts fingering herself again. You watch her mouth part into a small O and her eyes roll to the back of her head. You imagine what she looks like riding your face and start to speed up. Your other hand twisting your nipples.  

“I-m gonna..” Cait whimper and spasms for a few seconds. You moan at the look on her face, so pleased with herself, and soon enough you're squeezing your eyes and coming too.  

𖦹 AM I THE SAME GIRL? ⇆ atsumu miya

┆︎summary ┆︎you've taken up two new interests―geology and unearthing the truth behind atsumu's new cryptic behavior.

┆︎tags┆︎getting together, friends to lovers. reader is oblivious. atsumu is predictably, a loser in love.

┆︎wc┆︎3.7k

┆︎an┆︎it is the beginning of winter and for some reason i always think of summer. and also this 100% an excuse to research further about something that has always interested me. half of what i learned didn't even make it into the fic but just know i have about 3 hours worth of stuff lodged in my brain now.

okinawa is a long thirty-six hours from your home in hyogo. you've already vowed to visit once your curator job takes off―and you actually have enough money to stay there. but anyway. the reason you want to visit so badly is because of the hoshizuna no nama―or the star sand beach. where sand is typically made up of tiny rocks and particles, the sand is made of tiny star-shaped little particles.

you know this, and other odd things about rocks you've never heard of before, thanks to your monthly subscription to the petrology society journal. the part time job you've gotten at onigiri miya doesn't allow much for extra expenses, but the journal is one of the things you don't mind dipping into your budget for.

it's nothing something most people would expect from you (and certainly not something you thought you would enjoy so much) but you had caught the tail end of a documentary on the history of the earth while studying for yet another exam.

you're reading the latest issue now, or you're trying to. it's more like you're pretending to read it, as your eyes scan over the same paragraph seven times. in reality, you're way too interested in watching osamu and a few of his friends play a friendly (?) game of volleyball. and more specifically―watching atsumu play volleyball.

osamu had asked if you wanted to join, or maybe if you wanted to keep the score but you had declined. these were osamu's friends, and you felt more than a little out of your element just by being there. you attended the inarizaki high, same as osamu and his friends, but to say you were friends then was a generous statement.

at most, you and osamu partnered together often to work on projects or study. classroom friends. not the sort that hung out together outside of school hours. and when you started working part-time at onigiri miya, you assumed it would be the same. it isn't, and as a result, the two of you have struck up a tentative new friendship.

atsumu, osamu's twin, is an entirely different story. even in highschool, he was never someone you were able to understand. and nothing about him ever made any sense. even after all the time that has passed, that remains the same.

it's like he pays too much attention to you, but at the same time―none at all. you don't get it.

suit yourself atsumu had said, putting his hands on his hips as his eyes traced over you―watching keenly as you found a place to sit off to the side. you can just be my cheerleader instead.

your scowl had been instantaneous. feathers ruffled, you planted yourself down on your beach chair and forced yourself not to give atsumu the time of the day. a challenge, when he's possibly the hottest person you've ever seen. he carries himself differently than osamu, and you wonder if that's what makes you so drawn to him.

you aren't sure if you want to know the answer. what does that say about you, being attracted to boys with bad attitudes and piss colored hair?

"i don't hear any cheerin" atsumu drawls out, when he catches you staring for maybe the third time in a row. you scowl again, and cross one long leg over the other, body language clearly expressing your displeasure.

the star sand, in the end, isn't made up of anything mythical―not like you had been expecting. you know magic isn't real, but still your mind had conjured up the idea that the star sand was made of remnants from magical stars. sand, star shaped or not, are made up of decomposed organisms.

your eyes slide once more towards atsumu. for once, he isn't looking back at you. people, famous volleyball athletes or not, are made up of the same things.

--

today had been taxing in a way it hasn't been in a long time. you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, plastered with heat and sweat. class fared no better, and you forced yourself to trudge through the lessons―completely fumbling when a professor suddenly cold-called on you.

the one time you decide to give yourself a few extra hours of sleep instead of keeping up with the reading, you make a fool out of yourself in front of everyone. you're sure no one even remembers it, or gives it a second thought. but you wouldn't know how to stop being so mean to yourself, even if you wanted to.

your day hadn't gotten any better. you spilled a cup of iced coffee all over yourself, tripped and skinned your knee, had a disastrous shift at onigiri miya (to the point where osamu sent you home early)―and to top it all off, passed out the moment you arrived back at your apartment, instead of working on a paper that was due the next day.

never again will i take a summer class, you think to yourself, as you stand sleepily in line at the nearby convenience store.

"you seem tired" a voice says, next to you. and you turn blearily to face atsumu miya himself. "you're in grad school, right?"

it's totally and completely unfair that he gets to walk around looking that perfect. if there is a god, it's clear that he has favorites. and you are most certainly not one of them. atsumu, on the other hand, is.

"i'm regretting taking summer classes" you explain, tracing the floor pattern with the toe of your beat-up sneakers. you don't want to delve too deeply into your issues, and you're unsure if atsumu even cares to listen. "it's―challenging. at times"

"it might be a busy day, but try to make some time for yourself. any time spent settling your mind is time well spent. staring pensively into that cup of tea for a few moments can be equally beneficial" says atsumu, reading off of his phone, tone unusually wise. "calm your mind, and your heart, and make it an at-peace day"

it's night. your brow arches, thoroughly concerned.

"what?" is all you say, looking at him.

"it's pretty straightforward you know" atsumu pouts―pouts. this whole infatuation...thing, would be a lot easier if he weren't so pretty to stare at. "just, keep it in mind, okay?"

"...okay" you promise, because what else can you even say at this point.

a grin spreads across his face, surprisingly genuine. you don't even want to begin to unpack what that might mean, so you don't. you pay for your things, and part ways outside of the entrance of the store, going in opposite directions.

you get back to your apartment. and you make yourself a cup of tea, staring at it in the snoopy shaped mug.

it does help you feel a bit better.

--

your favorite shifts at onigiri miya are the morning ones. well, late morning and the beginning of the rush hour. you and osamu typically chat politely, where he asks about the different events happening in your life. neither of you seem to have many friends and you're all the more glad for the easy friendship you have with him.

this morning had been passed in comfortable silence, both of you in separate parts of the shop, working.

that is, until osamu sticks his head to the front of the shop and throughs a wrench in your entire life. "you know you could just talk to him"

"huh?" you say ineloquently, serving spoon held above the rice. it dawns on you pretty quickly, what osamu is saying and you don't have to look at him to know that he knows. still, you lie and reply with, "i have absolutely no clue what you're talking about"

"really? because 'tsumu's standing right there" your head snaps up. atsumu is not there. you turn to glare at osamu, who only laughs loudly at your expense. "god you're easy"

"i'm going to quit" you threaten, though both of you know that isn't the case. osamu only laughs louder. "i don't deserve this treatment"

the bell jingles overhead. "what treatment?" atsumu says, in the flesh this time―fresh from a jog. both you and his twin look surprised. speak of the devil, they say, and he shall appear. "osamu you better be treating your best employee with the utmost respect!"

"i don't even treat you with the utmost respect" osamu drawls, before heading into the back of the shop so he doesn't have to hear his twin's response.

atsumu, thoroughly annoyed, stalks to the front. he stares down at you through the separation glass and smiles. "good morning. doing better?"

"uhhh" you say, awkwardly, staring at him. or trying not to stare at him. he's wearing a tank top today and you can feel your brain shutting down. eventually, your brain reboots itself and you remember what it is he wanted to know. "yes―the tea helped. thanks for that"

"no problem" atsumu replies, and rattles off his usual weekend morning order. two spicy tuna and two yaki. he watches you make them with eerily focused eyes―like it's his first time ever seeing anyone make onigiri or something.

you make your way to the cash register, and atsumu follows. his eyes land on your latest issue of the petrology society journal. "you've been reading those a lot."

your eyes, naturally, also track to the magazine. you usually like to read to pass the time when there's no customers in sight. but being noticed, perceived, by atsumu of all people, makes you feel suddenly too-conscious. you try to remind yourself of the star sand, and how it's just like regular sand. atsumu is just another person. no need to get so worked up about it.

"every time i see you, your nose is usually in it" atsumu says―unaware of the effect it has on you. he points to the cover. "do you know what kind of rock that is?"

"basalt" you gurgle out, avoiding his stare.

atsumu's eyes light with understanding. "looks kinda like gravel to me" he lifts his gaze to you once more. "is that a rock? gravel?"

you pretend to think on it―like you haven't covered that topic on one of your earlier issues weeks ago.

"gravel's made up of a lot of other crushed rock" you explain, eyeing him. he's looks genuinely interested. "usually limestone, sandstone and basalt"

atsumu smirks, victorious, and snaps his fingers. "i knew it"

he did not 'know it'. you hand him onigiri with a small smile and a shake of your head anyway.

--

osamu, atsumu, their friends and a handful of new faces you don't quite recognize are playing volleyball in an indoor gym. once again, osamu has extended an invitation to you―but you learn that atsumu has asked that you be there as well.

this time, you bring along an ice cooler, stashed with water bottles. you don't really know what volleyball players eat to conserve energy and after classes sucking the joy from your body, you didn't feel too up to making anything. but they seem overjoyed at the snacks you've brought anyway.

what excites a bunch of grown adult men about mere trail mix and greek yogurt, you'll never understand. but if it means everyone likes it, then you're happy. you're chatting with a few siblings and close friends of the players and you're having so much fun you haven't bothered to pick up your magazine once. but its tucked into your crossbody bag, pressing up against your side as a gentle reminder of its presence.

watching them play volleyball is fun all on its own, too. atsumu and his brother play on the same team, playfully bickering with one another. and then atsumu's eyes search through the small gathering of people watching until they land on yours. he slaps the back of osamu's shoulder and jogs off the court before he can retaliate.

"give me your hands" atsumu says, instead of greeting you like a normal person.

you, predictably, do no such thing. instead, you shoot him a cautious look, cradling them to your chest. "i'm not doing that"

atsumu rolls his eyes. "just do it"

he holds his hands out, expectant. side-eying him, you comply. he takes hold of them―touch surprisingly gentle. his hands are warm, but aren't sweaty like you'd expect. he turns your palms over, and his eye's scan over them, studying them.

there's not much else for you to do, but join him. you look at your palms, trying to see what he see's. if he's seeing anything at all.

"you know, by looking at your hands, i'd say you would make a pretty good spiker" he says, and then, cryptically―"a twist in your plans will lead to unexpected joy. embrace the change"

"what are you, miya-san, you aren't making much sense at all" you say, trying not to give away how much you like it when he gently starts to trace over your palm lines with his thumb.

atsumu holds up one of your hands, comparing it to his own. "your palms and your fingers are proportional―see? signs of a good hitter they say"

that sounds like you made it up, you want to say, but don't.

"and the last part―it was your horoscope this morning" he says, continuing to make less and less sense. why does he know your horoscope in the first place? does he check it periodically, or is this a spur of the moment thing? the two of you are still holding hands. what does any of this mean?

i didn't know atsumu was into this kind of stuff, you think to yourself, as you stare at his hands in return. you suppose you aren't the only one with new, emerging interests.

"and what do your hands say?" you reply instead, hoping that he doesn't pull away.

atsumu snorts, and this time, places his in yours. "well i guess you can check. not that you know what you're looking for"

"well explain it to me then" you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning his palms over in your hands, like he had done with yours. you hear the hitch of breath that follows, before you see it.

"well my fingers are slightly longer and that means they're unproportioned to my palms" he explains, matter of factly. you stare more pointedly at his hands, so you don't have to look up into his face. "so you could say i would make a good middle blocker"

"but you're not" you say, frowning.

"i'm not" atsumu confirms, smirking at you―like it's a fond secret the two of you share. someone laughs in the background, surely not at the two of you, but he pulls away anyway, running a hand through his hair.

"is it really that hard for you to want to cheer for me?" he asks suddenly, staring at you.

confusion falls upon your face. every time it seems that you finally have a handle on the conversation, atsumu has to flip them so that you remain ever puzzled. "huh?"

"i always ask you to. cheer for me, i mean." he explains, uncharacteristically looking away. "but you never do. you cheer sometimes for osamu, or suna. oran especially."

you wish for the contact of his hands again. "i didn't think you were serious. i'm sorry"

it dawns on you then, that he has. nearly every time they play, in fact. he asks without fail. but you assumed it was a joke, or something.

"try it next time?" he asks, 100% serious, ignoring the way his team calls out for him. you have a feeling this isn't about the cheering anymore. but it's like you're missing several pieces of a particularly large and complex puzzle. in other words. you have no idea what it is that atsumu means behind his words.

"okay" you say, because what else is there to say?

atsumu beams, and jogs back onto the court.

--

osamu says he's going to head out to go pick up some supplies. he returns forty-minutes later with no supplies and with atsumu in tow, flanked on the other side by suna.

"hi atsumu, hi suna" you greet, waving, closing your magazine. "are you guys getting anything?"

suna and osamu look to be in much higher spirits than atsumu, who looks seconds away from puking. he doesn't. suna leans close to whisper in his ear, and atsumu glares at him fiercely―trying to turn around to leave the store. osamu doesn't let him, looking all too cheerful to push him towards you.

you decide you really don't want to know what shenanigans the three of them are up to.

"your usual, miya-san?" you ask again, putting on a pair of serving gloves.

atsumu spares another look at his brother, before shuffling forwards half-a-step. he rubs nervously at the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "there's a market. for crystals and stuff, about an hour from here in osaka. it's here for two weeks and i wanted to know if you wanted to go with me"

then, looking up at the ceiling of all things, continues. "it'll have other stuff too. like horoscopes and fortune telling."

you don't really need the extra information. you figured that sort of thing would be there. but horoscopes are kind of atsumu's thing. you're pleased he wants to share it with you―even if you find it a little cool as well.

"sure" you smile "sounds fun"

atsumu looks as though he could faint. or puke. or maybe do some combination of the two. but his color improves, and he gives you a small smile in return, shockingly bashful.

he peers down at you, shedding all of his strange behavior. "okay. great. tomorrow? i'll pick you up"

"tomorrow works for me, miya-san" you reply, good-naturedly.

atsumu turns and leaves onigiri miya without another word.

"you should dress nice" suna says, oddly, once he's completely gone. osamu's too busy typing madly on his phone to interject, so you look at him strangely. now he is starting not to make sense.

--

you do dress nicely. so much so, that atsumu compliments you on it at least four different times before you can even make it to the marketplace. i like your hair, it's cute. pretty, like your skirt. things like that. you don't know what to make of it.

"are you excited?" you ask, once the security guard hands the two of you wristbands.

atsumu clasps his on deftly, but signals for you to hold out your wrist once he notices you struggling. you try not to jerk in place every time his fingers graze your skin―but you aren't sure how successful you are at keeping a straight face.

"shouldn't i be asking you that?" he asks, raising his brows in confusion. he doesn't wait for you to answer, tugging you along by the hand in the direction of one of the booths.

"oh i recongize this one" you tell him, pointing down at a jagged stone. "its called chalcedony. i read about it a few days ago. it's a type of cryptocrystalline"

"a what?" atsumu asks, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stares down at the stone with a puzzled expression. it's cute on him, the casual bewilderment. he looks at it like he's trying to place where he's seen it before.

"a cryptocrystalline" you repeat, smiling at him. much easier to do when he isn't looking at you. "it means you can only tell that it has the structure of crystalline when its under a magnifying glass"

atsumu hums, pleased. "cool", he says, and browses the rest of the booth with you. once you're done with that one, poiting out all of the stones and rocks you've read about―atsumu pulls you along to the next one, eager to repeat the process. he's seems interested in what you have to say, asking questions to pick your brain for more information when he senses you might be holding out on him.

"i'm glad i heard about this" he brings up, as you walk away from a food stall―matching bowls of yakisoba in hand. "i read yesterday that opportunity only seizes those who are ready to take it and that i need to take the fearful leap"

you stop a stray noodle from landing on your crisp yellow cardigan, looking over at him. "what?"

atsumu's eyes are on yours. "my horoscope" he says, like it means something important.

"oh!" you exclaim, once realization hits you "i'm surprised you've gotten so into horoscopes and fortune telling"

a odd look crosses his face. "i'm not―you are"

"no i'm not" you tell him. "why would you think that?"

atsumu's face heats. "well, you're always reading about the rocks. the crystals and gemstones"

"i like petrology. not crystals and gems" you explain, unable to hide your smile. "it's about rocks in general. like their origins or what they're composed of"

you remember all of atsumu's cryptic words, odd, strange ways of speaking. the sage advice in the store that one time. they were horoscopes. before you can stop it, you burst out laughing. you try to muffle it into your arm, but the sound escapes anyway.

"that's what you were meaning with all those weird things you kept saying?" you ask, once you've managed to stop laughing. "i thought you were trying to―i don't know, warn me of my ominous and impending doom!"

"i wasn't" atsumu pouts, tossing his unfinished yakisoba into the trash. "i was trying to find something to start a conversation with you. i didn't know how else to tell you i liked you"

your amusement dries up and your throat closes up. your eyes look around, at everywhere else but him.

"...are you going to say anything?" atsumu asks, looking like the boy you remember from highschool.

"i―uh. i like you too" you stammer out, staring down at your shoes. it's shockingly easy to do. logically, you knew there was always a small, small chance that he would reciprocate your feelings, always in the most pleasant of dreams.

in them, atsumu would blush (much like he is now) and ask "are you sure?" much like his is now.

and in your dreams, you would throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. or confess your undying love and attraction to the most strangest boy you've ever known. but like the star sand, and so many other rocks you've learned about, reality does not end up like your wistful imagination.

"i'm sure" you nod, and gingerly reach for his hand. "do you want to keep looking around?"

atsumu beams. squeezes your hand in his own. it feels better than any of your dreams could have ever conjured up. "'course i do"

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

PLS HE LOOKS SO CUTE!!!!!! BABY YUJI IS MY BELOVED