Chapter 91: How She Wins (Every Time)

Chapter 91: How She Wins (Every Time)

I woke up to the weight of someone sitting on me. Not heavy, but enough that my chest dipped slightly with each shift. My first thought was Duchess. Maybe she’d decided I made a better mattress than her cat bed again.

But then I opened my eyes.

And there she was.

Celestia Valentina Moreau, perched on top of me, straddling me like I was some kind of throne she’d claimed overnight. Her hair was loose, spilling forward around her shoulders in glossy waves, catching the morning light that leaked through the blinds. And her smile—bright, radiant, mischievous—hit me before my brain had even fully caught up.

"Morning, husband," she chimed, voice way too awake for how early it had to be. "You’re awake now."

I blinked at her. Correction—trouble. That smile wasn’t just happiness. That was her I’m plotting something smile.

So I closed my eyes again. "No."

If I pretended to be asleep, maybe she’d get bored.

Her gasp was instant, dramatic. "But you just opened them!"

Silence.

I bit down on my lip, fighting a smirk. The more I ignored her, the more she’d push. And knowing Val, she’d push in ways that tested my willpower first thing in the morning.

"Husband." She shook me lightly, her hair brushing against my cheek. "Husbaaand."

Nothing.

> "Babe."

I stayed still.

> "Kai."

...And there it was. The last weapon in her arsenal—my name. Simple, sharp, impossible to ignore when she said it like that. My lips twitched, the beginning of a smile threatening to break.

She saw it. Of course she did. Her eyes lit up in victory. "You’re smiling."

I kept my eyes closed. "Nope."

"Yes." She poked at my cheek. "Yes, you are. I win."

I almost laughed. Almost. And then—

Her hand moved.

Slipped under the waistband of my shorts, warm against my skin. She stroked me right there and not slow, fast like someone told her it was going to be the last time.

My eyes flew open before my brain even processed it while her fingers retreated as fast as they appeared.

She froze. Met my gaze. And smirked like the devil himself or herself. "Good. Now you’re awake."

"Val—" My voice cracked. "Oh my—"

She didn’t let me finish. Her lips crashed into mine, stealing the rest of my sentence. Her kiss was firm, deep, and unfairly good for someone who’d been awake long before me. When she finally pulled back, she was grinning ear to ear, smug and unbothered.

I sighed, defeated. "Fine. What is it this time?"

Her eyes gleamed. "I want to tick another box on my list."

Of course.

I dragged a hand over my face. "So early in the morning?"

"I’ve been thinking about it all night," she said sweetly, like that was supposed to make it better.

I groaned. "Can I at least get five more minutes of sleep?"

"Nope." She leaned forward until her nose almost touched mine. "Pleaseeeee."

"Val—"

Her grin sharpened. "I’ll suck you off until you pass out if you agree."

I choked. Literally choked on air. "Wh—what?"

She sat back a little, tilting her head, innocent as anything. "I’ll take that as a yes."

I stared at her. "That is not how agreeing works."

"That’s exactly how agreeing works," she argued, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she hadn’t just casually said the most insane thing before breakfast. "Husband says nothing, wife takes it as yes. Easy math."

I rubbed at my temples. "It’s too early for this."

Her pout was instant, lower lip jutting out in practiced perfection. "But it’s Saturday. You don’t even have classes today. You have me. Isn’t that better than sleep?"

I groaned again, but my chest softened despite myself. How could it not? She was impossible—ridiculous, chaotic, relentless. But she was also smiling at me like I was her whole world, and that was a hard thing to fight against.

"Val..." I warned.

She only beamed brighter. "Yes husband."

I narrowed my eyes at her. She narrowed hers right back, challenge clear.

And just like that, I knew I’d already lost.

---

She didn’t suck me off.

Not even close.

Oh, she said

Classic Celestia.

So instead of whatever madness she had hinted at, we ended up taking showers. Separately, because she shoved me into the bathroom and said she’d "get distracted" if we bathed together. Not sure if that was supposed to be her acting responsible or just a new way to torture me.

By the time I was done, I found her in the kitchen with Duchess sitting on the counter like an unamused chaperone. Val had her hair tied up messily, my shirt hanging loose over her shorts, and she was flipping pancakes like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Not just pancakes, though. Bacon was sizzling in another pan. A pot of scrambled eggs steamed softly on the stove. Toast already sat on the table, cut diagonally, because apparently rectangles are "boring." She even had orange juice poured, because of course she did.

"Morning feast?" I asked, leaning against the doorway.

She didn’t look up. "You’re welcome, husband."

I smirked. "I didn’t say thank you yet."

"You were about to," she countered, tossing her hair as she slid the last pancake onto the stack. "And if you weren’t, Duchess was going to bite your ankle until you did."

Duchess meowed like she agreed. Traitor.

Breakfast was good. Too good, honestly. The kind of food that made me suspicious because I knew Val was up to something. She never cooked this much unless she was plotting. Still, I ate, because my stomach didn’t care about my suspicions.

Halfway through my second pancake, I put my fork down and asked, "So. What’s on this box you want to tick so badly?"

Her eyes lit up instantly. That was my mistake.

"You’re asking?" she chirped, leaning forward like a kid who just got permission to open their birthday presents early.

"Yeah," I muttered warily. "Might as well get it out of the way before you surprise me with something insane."

She gasped, placing a hand over her chest like I’d insulted her honor. "Excuse you, I only ever have very normal requests."

I raised an eyebrow. "You straddled me awake this morning and threatened me with..." I cleared my throat. "That. At seven a.m."

She beamed. "Exactly. Totally normal wife things."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Val..."

She leaned back in her chair dramatically, crossed her legs, and announced, "I want to go on a date."

I blinked. "...A date."

"Yes," she said, as if it were obvious. "An official one. Like, you take me out, we leave the house, maybe there’s flowers, maybe you hold my hand while the sun sets, I don’t know, husband, romance."

I just stared at her.

"We already do that," I pointed out. "We literally eat together every day. You moved into my house against my will. We go everywhere together."

Her eyes narrowed. "That’s not a date. That’s cohabitation."

"...That’s a big word for you this early in the morning." I raised a brow, then added, "Besides, we’ve already done that. Like—multiple times already. Dinner, a picnic, that one where we took a train ride and you saw Strawberry Pocky."

She leaned forward, lips curving into a smug smile. "Those don’t count."

I blinked. "Don’t count? How—how do they not count? We went out, I paid, you terrorized me in public. That’s literally the definition of a date."

She tilted her head like I was the slow one here. "Nope. Those were practice dates. This one’s gonna be official."

"Val..." I started, but she was already leaning forward, eyes shimmering with something dangerously close to pleading.

> "Please, Kai? Just once, don’t make me drag you. Just say yes because you want to go with me."

I groaned. "Val, it’s Saturday. Do we really have to?"

She pouted, lower lip trembling like she’d practiced in the mirror. "You don’t want to go on a date with me?"

"That’s not what I said."

> "You hate me."

"Also not what I said."

Her pout deepened. "Then prove it. Take me out."

I dragged a hand down my face. "Can’t we just stay in? Watch a movie or something?"

She gasped, horrified. "That’s not ticking a box! That’s just Saturday night laziness."

I muttered under my breath, "Sounds perfect to me."

She didn’t let it slide. "Fine. If you don’t take me out..." She leaned forward, eyes gleaming, "...then the other deal’s off the table."

I choked on orange juice. "Val—"

She tilted her head innocently. "What? I told you I’d suck you off until you pass out. I keep my promises, husband."

I set my cup down carefully, trying not to combust. "You can’t just throw that around like it’s a bargaining chip."

She smirked. "Of course I can. That’s exactly what it is. The most powerful bargaining chip in existence."

I groaned. "You’re impossible."

"And you love it," she shot back instantly, leaning her chin on her hand. "So. Is it a yes?"

I wanted to say no. I really did. I wanted to point out that it was Saturday, that dates were cliché, that we didn’t need to tick a box just because she scribbled it on some ridiculous list.

But then I looked at her.

At the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, hope tucked just underneath. At the way she leaned forward like my answer actually mattered, like this silly list was more than just chaos—it was her way of asking me to make memories with her.

I sighed, defeated. "Fine. We’ll go on a date."

Her face lit up instantly, blinding. "Really?!"

"Really," I muttered, stabbing my pancake before she saw my smile.

She squealed, actually squealed, and threw her arms around me across the table, nearly knocking my plate over. "Best. Husband. Ever!"

Her grin was already blooming across the table, lighting up the morning brighter than the sun through the window. I leaned back, watching her bounce a little in her chair, humming to herself as if she’d already won.

And maybe that was when I realized—making her happy had somehow become the only box that mattered to me.

---

To be continued...