Aqours Imagines

Riko stood speechless, nearly stammering, at those words. As much as she knew that Chika had said those words, in that order, she couldn’t believe they were directed at her. It was something she knew about only in her novels: to have it transcribed to her made her feel almost heavy–her cheeks had tinted to the color of her hair even in the late-spring breeze, while mentally she attempted to grasp at her own words. How should she–hell, how could she–respond?

“D-do you mean it?” She asked, her breath hitching against her tongue as she spoke, to an almost-immediate regret. How could she have said something so outright stupid to her? In her flinch, she let the images of a paranoid mind’s eye flood her senses: Chika had already departed her, mere seconds after her confession no less, over how mediocre her reply was. Almost as if she were preparing to run away from this all, she felt something heavy weighing her down: Chika.

“Of course I mean it, Riko! I’ve liked you since I first saw you in class, and since we started Aqours, I’ve been happy to have you here and even happier to get close with you!”

Riko stammered once more, her face beet red. Clammy, shaking hands clasped onto one of Chika’s wrists, and in an instant she started running, holding her in tow. Chika kept along, curious as to see what exactly Riko had in mind. She already knew Riko’s family, considering that she was her neighbor, so it couldn’t be an introduction: maybe she was planning on doing some Tokyo tradition she had no idea about.

“Where are we going?” Chika asked as Riko stopped at a building. Of all places, Riko stopped at an impersonal wooden shack and they were standing at a side which didn’t have a door on it: Riko had no interest in going into the building, and rather she got comfortable against the wall. Her shoulder blades resting on wood, she took Chika’s hand and brought it above her shoulder: to an outsider, it looked as if Chika had pinned Riko to a wall.

“C-c-can you say that again, Chika-chan?”

“Of course! I love you, Riko-chan!”

Riko practically melted hearing Chika declaring her love while pinning her against the wall: she felt almost feeble, helpless: the only place for her to go was forward, directly into the girl confessing to her, or to stay at the wall, looking directly into Chika’s eyes. No matter which way she looked at it, it was a win-win.

Hanamaru wouldn’t consider her life bad, even in theslightest. She had a loving family, a warm home and a source of food – wasn’tthat all she needed? Her life was plain, but pleasant. A quiet temple girlwhose only company was books and her own imagination – a girl like that justwasn’t made for adventures. She was perfectly content with herself, the onlyexcitement she needed could be experienced through the words of others. Atleast, that was what she told herself. Still, the romantic inside of her yearnedfor more. A story. A lover. A friend.

In the depths of her mind, there was a flash of red hair.

Yes, a friend. She could only really say she’s had one ofthose – and that was a long time ago. They had met on a sunny afternoon on a busyplayground; just two children who became friends with passing comments, as theytend to do. Still, Hanamaru truly did consider her a friend. She was small andgentle, someone Hanamaru felt she needed to protect. Maybe she consideredHanamaru a real friend too? She shook her head and returned herself to reality,knowing thinking more on it would just do her harm. Her hands busied themselveswith looking up meaningless information on the computer, simply to give herselfsomething to do.

A shadow cast over Hanamaru’s desk and from in front of her,a meek voice broke out.

“E-Excuse me? I would like to check out this book…”

“Ah, right away- zura?”

Her breath caught in her throat when she glanced up to meettwo shining turquoise eyes, which also seemed to widen in surprise. A moment ofsilence stretched out as neither of them dared look away, hesitant to evenblink, in fear of this moment being taken away from them. It was her.

“Hanamaru?”

The grin which stretched across their faces mirrored each otherperfectly.

“I’ve missed you, Ruby.”

Kanan, Dia, and Mari are the sole three members in their closed polyamorous relationship. In spite of their differences in tastes in the bed, they manage.

Mari is one of the brattiest power bottoms one could ever meet. If a rope has any sort of slack in it, Mari’s wiggling around when she’s tied up, letting out whimpers just for the sake of whimpering. Mari adores loud sex and even if her partners aren’t that loud, she tries to get them more into it with how much it sounds like she’s getting into it.

Dia, alternatively, is a top as strict as Mari is a bottom. She is only happy when she has all of the reins in the bedroom, especially with Mari; with Kanan, she’s a bit more lenient. This, most of the time, ends up with a lot of marks on Mari’s skin, something which she doesn’t mind one bit. Mari enjoys being punished by Dia, and makes sure to be much more noisy with Dia; even when she’s spanked once, she spurts out words in English and Italian.

Kanan rounds out the trio by being a very laid-back switch. Her easy-going nature allows her to be as open about her kinks as Mari and Dia are in the bedroom with one another, although to a slightly lesser degree.

Kanan, when in the bedroom with Mari, usually takes the role of dominant, but has moments when Mari completely overpowers her. Mari knows all of Kanan’s weak spots: in particular, her neck and the small of her back, when kissed, melt her into practically a puddle. If Kanan is able to control herself when Mari leaves herself vulnerable by aiming for her weak spots, she scratches into Mari’s back and, if she’s wearing a shirt, lifts it up.

Kanan, with Dia, almost always takes a submissive role; that is not to say that whenever Dia feels submissive, she goes straight to Mari: Kanan usually serves as a dominant for her. Yet, when Dia is with Kanan, it is typically because Mari is unhandleable. Dia is more gentle with Kanan, and she always makes sure to kiss her while in bed: Dia loves kissing Kanan, because she always puts up a fight when lip is against lip.

Mari has always been a fan of kissing. She kisses all over. Outside of Kanan’s sweet spots, her favorite places to kiss Kanan are on her torso, whether she’s kissing at her breast, her tummy, or her hips (and elsewhere). For Dia, she likes kissing at her cheeks, her breasts, and undoubtedly her butt and thighs; she’s slightly more plush than Kanan and Mari adores how Dia’s slight fat feels against her lips.

Dia’s a big fan of toys. Her favorites depend on the partner for the night. If she’s solely with Mari, then she pulls out the strap-on; her hips can provide much more force and weight than her hands could possibly dare to, something which is important if she wishes to establish dominance. With Kanan, she’s a bit more methodical, for she knows that Kanan is pretty much down for whatever and she’s free to do whatever. Thus, non-penetrative vibrators are her favorites on Kanan, and she enjoys spending a lot of time with her with her hands to the headboard of her bed and rubbing her out. Kanan’s excessive stamina is her greatest blessing with Mari and her greatest boon with Dia. When she’s with both, she prefers not to use toys at all and uses her fingers and mouth.

Kanan, whenever she’s given any opportunity to, will mark. Scratches, love bites, actual bite marks, hand-prints from smacking, and lipstick stains are among her favorites to give: lipstick stains, especially (Kanan only wears lipstick for the reason of marking). Lipstick stains are typically her main way of marking, especially considering one of her girlfriends’ tendencies to tie up her hands and leave her unable to scratch and slap her; and she would never consider biting Dia. Kanan wouldn’t consider Dia the type to like being bit, unlike Mari, who vocally adores it when she’s bitten.

The one issue that Kanan had with the entire wedding was Mari’s dress. It was extravagantly poofy and looked like most other wedding dresses until about mid-chest. She was a bit glad that Yoshiko’s bad luck didn’t rub off on Mari or she could have suffered a wardrobe malfunction during her special day, and even then, her breasts were practically spilling out of her dress at that point. Mari takes advantage of this by jumping up and down in excitement as they reach her bedroom, and by the point that they’re alone, the malfunction has happened and Kanan learns that Mari had not worn a bra for the entirety of the wedding.

Mari takes absolutely no time ripping off Kanan’s tuxedo off of her. She spent the money on her clothes and she could, in her eyes, do whatever she wanted to those clothes now that the event was over: buttons had scattered all over Mari’s bedroom floor, and each new spot of flesh Mari exposed she kissed. Of course, she coupled this with a few gropes to Kanan’s breasts and backside.

Kanan struggles to find how to rid Mari of her dress but eventually finds her way. As soon as the dress falls, Mari is only clad with a white lace garter on her right thigh; and down there she’s as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Kanan feels a bit bad because for the occasion she only trimmed down.

Mari insists on only tribadism and 69 for the first night together, mainly due to being based on or providing mutual pleasure. Kanan finds it a bit dull considering what Mari typically loved in the bed, but runs with it because it’s a special day for Mari and she really doesn’t want to ruin things for her now. Besides, a bit of vanilla never hurt anybody.

Mari is thankful that she had been able to keep up with Kanan, because now that they were in bed together for an extended period of time, Mari realizes that Kanan has practically infinite stamina. Even as she’s panting away while Kanan’s fingering her, Kanan seemed to somehow keep herself upright while Mari, who’s quite a bit rougher, had brought her to orgasm enough times for her to have lost count (yet, with Kanan, Mari had trouble counting past three).