Wondering if any one can help me!! I’m searching for a Sylus x reader fic I have read in the past. It’s set in an AU where Sylus is like a King and Luke and Kieran are his sons and they are younger. He was married to MC but she died. And then reader is her friend and for the good of the kingdom Sylus married reader. And it’s very angsty and reader ends up with child, but then MC’s sister shows up and secretly is poisoning reader cause she wants to be married to Sylus.
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Synopsis. You, heir to the throne and fated to be married off to a royal you’ve never even met. Gojo Satoru, your personal knight and the one man that will not let this happen. He will not.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, knight! Gojo, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, PINING, arranged marriages, Naoya is awful, Gojo YEARNS, flower language, politics, slight víolence, slight angst, matíng presses, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, oraI (fem rec), he goes FÉRAL, cúmming in his pants, manhandIing, spítting, biiig stretches, dúmbifícation, cúmflation, p talking, p sIapping, overstím, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.7k
A/N. What happens when ya let a girl listen to Golden Brown by The StrangIers.
“You are not to speak, you are not to look.” The king intertwines his decadently ringed fingers on his lap, the royal signet glinting pointedly amongst them. “You are not to so much as breathe in the princess’s way from tomorrow onwards.”
And it’s only with his hard-earned years as your knight that Gojo stops himself from shuddering where he knelt, head bowing to hide the clench in his jaw.
Though, surely something must have flashed across his features - because the next few words have a familiar warmth that twisted Gojo’s heart much more than his royal timbre, “Satoru, my boy, you understand that this is your duty? Yes?”
“I understand.” The answer is instant, as is the raise of the other man’s brows.
“And do you understand that this marriage is my daughter’s duty?” Your father barks out a disbelieving laugh into the barren throne room. “We wouldn’t want Prince Naoya getting the wrong idea between the princess and a- a knight.”
The words make his eyes prick wetly, and Gojo can’t help but bend even lower as he whispers. “I…I understand, sir.”
After all, it was the second thing that Gojo Satoru had drilled into his mind from the very moment he first met you.
The first being that he’s loved you ever since.
Which - retrospectively speaking - might’ve been an incredibly bold declaration coming from the scrawny, fidgeting six-year-old you happened to catch sneaking in and stealing lilac blooms from the royal garden all those years ago.
He remembers how you’d giggled, looking positively like a little blossom in all those gauzy layers of gown. Piping up from under the lilac tree he was latched onto, “My father says that’s not allowed.”
Gojo had fallen then - literally, startling about six feet from the branch he’d been straddling and straight into a scratchy pile of leaves with a dull thud! Back hurting, head spinning, it was a wonder that he hadn’t sprained anything, but right then and there he remembers thinking he was in heaven.
Because here was a pretty lil’ angel his age ogling down at him, speaking in a regal accent so different from his. “My father says that’s not allowed either.”
Your grin beamed down on him and warmed his skin even more scorchingly than the balmy rays of sunlight filtering in through the leaves. And for the first time ever in his life, Gojo Satoru had stuttered.
“Yer- yer father sounds stupid.” He had spit out, chubby cheeks puffing out the more you stared at him. What? He was sure he looked ridiculous with all those stray sticks and leaves stuck in his cloudy locks, but did you really have to look at him like…that?
“My father…” Your lips curled even further, as if you knew something he didn’t. “-the king.”
Oh.
Oh.
And it’s only then that Gojo notices the thin, silver tiara on your head, a delicate wreath of jeweled flowers that twinkled almost as bright as your eyes. It reflected specks of light into his gaze almost mockingly.
Idiot- it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over him that chilled him to the very bone.
Even at the tender- well, wise and sensible age of six, Gojo had heard from the adults in town all about the torture chambers and p-prisons that the royal palace was home to.
Just why did he feel the need to escape from his mother at the market to bring her a batch of those wispy, amethyst flowers anyway?
Sure, they were her favorite but- the royal family would have his head before even she did. And he didn’t even get to butter her up with the lilacs!
“Forgive me!” Gojo had squeaked out in a cry so shrill that you hurriedly took a step back, eyes widening once the interesting boy in front of you dropped to his hands and knees. “Ah- I mean uh- forgive me, your highness- your princessness.” Drooping into a bow so low that his soft tufts of hair brushed the warm ground. Words tumbling out a mile a minute, “It was an accident- I must’ve been um sleepwalking and I pinky-promise won’t do it again-”
“Those lilacs haven’t bloomed yet, y’know?” You’re cutting him off smoothly, and Gojo remembers feeling a pang of irritation- let him recite his apologies before you throw him in a cell, dammit! Right before flooding with confusion, eyes snapping up to meet yours hesitantly.
Pointing at a pretty white gazebo, overlooking the lake only a few meters away, you’d shrugged your shoulders. “The garden staff puts the best ones in a bouquet over there.”
At which, he’d replied with an exceptionally eloquent, “Huh?”
“Well, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
It’s only after hours upon hours of picking every lilac flower in sight and chatting about all the worldly topics a pair of six-year-olds knew that you were dragged away by one of your worried attendants.
And he almost felt…sad about it. Weird.
The yolky setting sun that day cast shadows for Gojo to hide himself in behind one of the gazebo pillars as he peeked at your retreating back. In-step with an older woman muttering about “losing her job oh- the king will banish her.”
And if there was one thing that he would never forget - well, amongst everything else - it was the way his heart banged selfishly against his ribcage with a repeated turn around turn around turn around-
You did. And you’d smiled, and Gojo hasn’t been able to step away from your side since.
Well, he had to - to go home that evening and proudly proclaim to his thoroughly cross mother how he’ll become a knight, that is.
Honestly, even the colossal lilac bouquet did little to deter her scoldings about running off. But despite how bad it was - and the fact that he was sentenced to be confined to his room for a whole month - it didn’t matter.
Gojo visited you the next day, too.
And the day after that, and the day after that- and again and again no matter how many times you’d teased him about coming so often to see you. Because you were right there no matter what royal duties or lessons dictated, waiting in the lilac garden for him.
Every day.
When Gojo was eighteen he’d applied for a position in the royal guard, breezing through the demonstrations of physical strength because of course, he did. He’d been training for his very day for years.
And it showed - oh, how it showed.
It showed in the way he stood almost a head above every other man lined up there, veering numerous inches above six feet. All sculptured, Herculean muscles and arms toned from years spent climbing the palace orchards with you. The strongest.
He considered himself exceedingly humble, too, of course.
Humble enough to not brag outright in your face once Gojo had climbed the treacherous way into being your personal knight before the age of twenty.
“Hah, I can tell your father- erm, his majesty all about where you sneak off to now.” Gojo snickered, flicking your forehead in a way that a princess simply shouldn’t be treated. “Perhaps I’ll bargain titles with him- tell the courts about the way you climb trees, and ride horses and-”
“Snitch”
“Harlot.”
“Knave.”
“Hobgoblin.”
“Satoru.” You’d deadpanned up at as six foot four inches of white-haired nuisance clinging onto whimpers out a dramatic ouch, that one hurt. Desperately trying to keep the smile off of your face, “You’re with me each and every single time.”
Well, was.
It seemed like the king was to be putting a stop to that very, very soon. With your looming- he gulps to keep the leaden ball of tears away from his throat, your engagement.
“Toru—” Your voice snaps him out of his hazy little reverie, and he finds himself straightening his back into a respectful posture outside of the throne room. Warily eyeing the way you bound up to him, “What did my father want to talk to you about so suddenly?”
“Ah…” Gojo’s throat feels hoarse. Parched. The smile plastering onto his face wobbly, “Just- just security measures for the visitor we’re going to have, your royal highness.”
Your brows quirk upwards, pretty lips falling open just enough for him to realize you were about to comment on his use of that. That title.
“Now if you pardon this knight, ma’am-” Gojo pipes up before you can bludgeon him with questions, striding down the luxurious hallway to his newly-assigned post at the royal treasury. Far, far away from your chambers. “-I have been called by Knight Commander Yaga to my-”
“Satoru- wait.”
He should’ve known better than to have thought he could escape you - not when even his own heart didn’t want to.
Lurching up in an almost-nauseating swoop the moment your voice echoes from behind, hitting his glinting armor. “You…are you okay—? You haven’t called me any of those silly formal titles since we first met.” Words practically dripping with concern, fuck- he was sure your face was furrowing. And if it was up to him he would kiss away every tense crevice.
But no, that was not his place.
His place was to stand rooted to the spot, face turning only a half-degree to grace you with a soft bow. Gojo knew it wasn’t the epitome of respect, but a singular look in your face right now and he would break.
“I am in perfect condition to carry out my duties, ma’am.” He’s nodding, voice oh-so-brittle in his throat for how hardened it thundered.
“That’s not what I mean.” Stubborn.
Gojo turns back to the winding corridor in front of him, “Then if that is all, I shall be on my way. I hope you have a good day, ma’am.”
“Satoru.”
And if his cheeks were cold and encrusted with a few streaks of salty tears when he reached the treasury, Gojo was only grateful that his fellow knight Ijichi was too afraid of him to say anything.
.
.
.
Gojo Satoru was avoiding you - marching the other way if he glimpsed you, running around the palace for menial tasks, he wasn’t even your personal guard anymore, for goodness’ sake! Your best friend was ignoring you and you weren’t sure why.
Was it because you had to skip out on your daily walks in the lilac garden to greet the visiting Zenin royals?
No, he was always so understanding of the royal responsibilities that you couldn’t skive off. Besides, his strange attitude had sparked up even before Prince Naoya and his family arrived at your kingdom - ever since that meeting with your father.
You were dying to ask the king what exactly was talked about that day, a meeting so confidential that he didn’t even have the royal advisor transcripting it. But your father was always so busy with the older Zenin couple these days, cooped up in office rooms surrounded to the brim with official documents.
And that left you with…him.
Naoya Zenin. A prince if there was ever any, who couldn’t talk about anything but that.
“So…um.” Your eyes dart around the palace gardens, you always did love it here - that comforting smell of flowers wafting in clouds around you. But right now you felt anything but comforted. “How are you liking the garden, Prince Naoya?”
He shakes his brown-tipped locks, eyes narrowing. “Rather plebian for a royal palace, if I do say so myself.”
“R-right…” You’re sputtering in an unlady-like fashion, “We do have orchards too if you wanted to-”
“Of course, the gardens in my palace are much bigger-” He’s waving a gloved hand loftily, nose crinkling into a sneer at the bustling gardeners planting beautiful white blossoms everywhere. Honestly, you were informed there was a grand ball soon - but wasn’t this a bit much? “And we teach the help to stay out of sight.”
“Both.”You fight the urge to just storm off then and there - it wouldn’t do good to start a war between the two most powerful kingdoms right now.
“Ah yes yes- nice.” Naoya repeats airily, words warbling as if he was biting back a laugh. “Suppose the low-borns are tolerable if they’re nice.”
A vision of Gojo - tiny and trembling into a bow in front of you - flashed through your mind, and you find your pretty heels digging hard into the dark soil. That was it.
“Perhaps.” Your voice comes out dangerously even, dangerously. Naoya only raises his brows in faint interest, “Yet, even the least tolerable tch- ‘low-born’ would be more tolerable than a pompous, arrogant-”
“There you are, your highnesses!”
Satoru.
You would recognize that low, lilting baritone amongst a thousand others. And before you can turn around to face your best friend that had been missing for days, he plows on, “A little gift- from this lowborn.”
Thud!
Before you can even blink, pale hands reach out to unceremoniously dump a radiant yellow flower crown on Naoya’s blond bangs. And you swear Gojo pushed down on his head harder than necessary.
The first thing you register is the warm wall of muscles pushing up against your back, lecherously counting every ladder of washboard abs and Gojo’s plush pecs in your mind. Mindlessly, you’re leaning back even closer, savoring the way his breath hitches. Harlot.
The second thing you’re realizing is that Naoya Zenin - for the first time in twenty-something years - had gone quiet. Very, very quiet. Suspiciously so.
You force your words into some semblance of levelness, “Are you…are you alright, Prince Naoya?”
But Naoya didn’t speak - you didn’t know if he was even breathing. Long face growing greyer and greyer by the second, he doesn’t answer you.
No, instead he’s pointing a trembling finger behind you. “You there…you- what shrub have you placed upon my royal head?”
“Laburnum.” Comes the answer - and just as soon comes a drawling, strangled squawk.
Your first instinct is to look towards the shimmering lake not too far away from you, eyes searching for any trace of those familiar ducks- before gasping in surprise and looking back to the prince. Mouth ajar, still making those undignified noises.
Him?
“You- you will-” He hisses, so furious that you have to take a step back - right into Gojo’s waiting arms - to avoid his flecks of spit. “-you will pay for this.”
In only a split-second, Naoya had thrown the flower crown onto the ground and wheezed his way up the flowery pathway back to the castle. What a sight it was.
But nothing compared to the way that Gojo comes into your line of sight and preens. One hand tapping at his cheek in thought, the other held behind his back. “Whoops- I forgot that the king specifically informed me that our honored guest was allergic to laburnum flowers. Guess, low-borns aren’t of good memory. Right, my princess?”
“Satoru- you- you ass.” You’re yelping through fits of laughter, not caring for the way the rest of the gardening staff smiles knowingly. “What if that bastard gets deathly sick? The blame would be on you.”
He rolls his summer blue eyes, “Proudly.”
“I should send you to the gallows for this.”
Gasping in faux shock, “Most salacious indeed!”
And for the first time in so long, it feels normal.
The breezing heat of Gojo’s body against yours feels normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to think too deeply about it. Too enchanted by the sheer lack of armor - all billowy white poet shirt and flattering cotton pants.
“Y-yeah well-” Shit- why was your skin burning this way? The sun wasn’t even at peak temperature for today. Absentmindedly, you’re playing with one of his silk lapels, “Thank goodness we’re losing him in a few days, I asked mother and she said the Zenin’s are only visiting until the fast-approaching ball.”
“Princess-” It all comes out in a rush, “-that ball. The reason for it is actually-”
“Your highness! The queen is asking for a conference with you!” The curious voices of your maidservants drag you away from Gojo’s arms, into a much less scandalous position.
And yet, with only a nod behind - you still stay standing in front of him. You stay.
“Right…” Gojo’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a deep gulp. Shadowy gaze darting away, “I should get back to my duties, ma’am. Suguru has been abusing his position as head gardener to work me like a mule.”
The way your face crumples with disappointment makes Gojo’s heart feel sliced open. And raw. “Of course. I’ll see you around, Gojo.”
Gojo. Gojo.
And of course he couldn’t let you walk away - of course he couldn’t let you leave his life just yet.
So without thinking, without even realizing, he’s clasping a slender hand around your wrist to pull you back. To reel you in. To him.
Velvety strands of snow-white curtain Gojo’s eyes, and the doughy fingerpads on your skin shiver. Mumbling, “Before- Before you go, my prin- ma’am. I just wanted to give you-” And you don’t know what makes your heart race more - the cherry-red blush painting all over Gojo’s cheeks and up to the very tips of his ears, or the sunny flower crown clasped in a hand pulled from behind his back. “-this.”
Your mouth drops into an awe-struck oh! It was beautiful - trickling blossoms of every shade of yellow entwined gently together. Embedded with celestially dainty buds of an amber so pale it looked almost white, diamonds on a tiara fit for a princess.
You had a feeling it would be your favorite one.
All you could think of was Gojo with his staggering hands, and his battle-worn fingers, making something so delicate for you.
“Is…is this one just as allergy-inducing as the other, Satoru?” You’re breathing, rustled by a breeze so gentle that it almost hurts.
“No.” Gojo whispers, just as quiet. As if the slightest sign of a raised voice would break whatever saccharinely thick moment this was, “Yellow acacia and yellow carnation. For you, my princess.”
For the way he’d be losing you just as soon as he loses that asshat.
And even once you’d adorned his crown and been hurried off by a few palace staff, Gojo stared. Even once you were nothing but a speck of royal satin and yellow crowns, he stared. Even once you were gone, and he was left so very alone, he stared.
Only thanking the heavens above that you always slept through your flower language lessons.
.
.
.
Over the next few days; wherever you were, Naoya Zenin was to follow.
And Gojo was sure that it was pushing the young royal closer and closer to a spectacular aneurysm any time that you called specifically for him to accompany you. Blatantly refusing any other knight that came your way.
The pointed third during “romantic” boat rides on the lake, always the guard overseeing dinners, the one to step in with a blunder if your future fiancé got too…opinionated. Gojo was always there.
It was more like you spent your time trying to make his dutiful façade crack than supposedly entertaining your guest.
Sneaky princess.
After all - Gojo found himself pacing and arguing out loud with himself any time you did - he was simply doing his job, right? Even if the aforementioned job went against just a few direct orders from the king himself.
But these were a direct order from the princess. His princess. And Gojo had stopped his procedural traversing and ranting since realizing this.
Although- the head chef, Nanami’s, veiled threat about turning him into pig feed the next time he heard stomping may have played a slight part in this, as well.
And it was on such a day that Gojo found himself stationed to guard the inside of the royal drawing room. Spine ramrod straight, eyes flooded with steel while he took in the sight of you and that bastard- Naoya sketching the other in silence.
It was a dainty, sunlit room, and the hours might have almost been peaceful - if it wasn’t for the split-haired bastard, that is.
After that flower fiasco and a thorough telling off for misremembering the prince’s allergies, this was meant to make up for a “bonding activity” according to the king; which to him read more like a desperate attempt to push the two of you together before the grand ball tomorrow night.
Gojo’s chest caves in with a sudden spike of pain, tomorrow night. Your engagement ball, where you will surely be handed off to a man who wouldn’t be worthy of you in a thousand different lives.
Fuck, had it really been days since already?
It hurt too much, and so he looks towards the prince’s parchment- how insulting. Hundreds of royal art lessons, yet Naoya still couldn’t capture the exact curve of your smile. And those pretty crinkles by your eyes- they were entirely the wrong number! And Gojo’s sure that any fool could see the way your lips-
He was getting ahead of himself. And reminded embarrassingly of the hundreds of sketches of you over the years stowed away underneath his bed alongside a stubby piece of charcoal.
And he was leaning over the prince in a way that he was sure would get him strung and quartered in the Zenin palace. Or, at least, that’s what Naoya’s daggered glare was telling him.
With a sheepish smirk, Gojo snatches a glimpse at your artwork. Stifling a laugh at the way you’ve given up on drawing the other man and started engaging in idle scribblings of weasels and hollies.
“That one looks like him, don’t you think?” He can’t help but whisper from the corner of his mouth, stomach swooping in delight as soon as your eyes light up.
Tacking on a familiar hairstyle and sneer onto a particularly shoddy caricature of one of the weasels, giggling. “He does.”
Gojo points at another drawing - this time of a bullfrog- honestly, what interests for a princess. “And that’s-”
“That Jinichi.” You’re finishing off for him, carelessly drawing away a few more - quite frankly, Gojo finds everything you do beautiful, but these were appallingly ugly - scribbles of foxes and goats. “That one’s Oji Zenin, and that’s Gakuganji and that’s-”
“Ahem.”
There was only one person who could make the clearing of a throat sound so snobbish. And that was Naoya Zenin.
Brows raised, feet tapping impatiently on polished marble as he snatches the parchment from your grip.
Schwing–!
“Toru- no.”
Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s pulling out his famed, silver sword until you’re stopping him with a hand to his tense bicep. Shit.
Growling through clenched teeth once more at Naoya while he nestles it back into its scabbard with unsteady fingers - only because you asked.
But the other man doesn’t even flinch - wearing that perfect mask of regal stoicity, though Gojo manages to catch the way his eyes flicker nervously down at the hilt of his sword. Doesn’t show anything other than the tightening of his thin lips as he gazes upon your humorous drawings.
The impatient tap! tap! tap! of his feet slowing down, stopping - before Naoya throws your paper down onto the floor and stomps. Gojo would’ve almost found it comedic if it hadn’t been for your startled demeanour.
“Excuse me-” He’s hissing, angling his broad body between you and this unseemly sight. Gojo looks dead-on into Naoya’s spit-fire red face, “-but I would have to hope not to remind a young prince of royal etiquette.”
“Excuse me, sir.”
“No need to call me ‘sir’, your highness.”
Naoya looks up, death in his eyes.
Gojo thought this might be the end. The missed trip to the dungeons all those years ago was finally catching up to him, and he would be thrown in today for drawing his weapon on a royal but goddammit- if he wasn’t going to keep you safe from his ire for as long as he breathes and then some.
But - to both you and Gojo’s surprise, and perhaps even Naoya himself - he simply turns swiftly on his heels and walks out of the room. Letting the heavy double-doors SLAM! deafeningly behind him.
It takes a beat. One. Two.
He counts every raging ba-dump–! of his heart against this ribcage- before the terse silence shatters with laughter.
“Toru- To- Satoru—!” You’re wiping away genuine tears, “‘No need to call me sir-’ where did you even come up with that-”
“Fuck! You can laugh but I thought I was headed to the gallows.” He’s exclaiming, and it was quite difficult to act as if your laugh wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d heard in his entire life. “Although- it would have been a killer last line. Wouldn’t it, my princess?”
The two of you stare at each other for one singular ba-dump–! Before bursting into peels of undignified cackles that could make an entire court shiver in scandal.
“Killer- killer alright-” You’re rolling your watery eyes, “This is just as bad as the time you caught Yaga in his interpretive rain dance routine- I thought you were surely dead then.”
Please, Gojo’s stomach and his heart were hurting - though, for very different reasons. “Not as bad as when you wanted to play dress-up with the sacred royal crown and lost it.”
“Don’t remind me, my father was-” That’s when your tear-lathered lashes flutter, a hand coming up to swat softly against your cheek as if to jolt back your senses. You’re groaning over Gojo’s whine, “-my father. Oh no! What will he say about this?” You almost knock your cushy stool over with how fast you’re teetering into a stand, “I must go apologize to weasel- Naoya right away lest relations with the Zenins-”
“Let me.”
Your brows raise, “What?”
“Let me.” Gojo’s repeating, more firmly this time. Thumb grazing briefly down your knuckles as he pulls you back into your seat.
Just for a split-second - like he couldn’t even think of letting himself touch such a precious treasure.
He knows you will argue this, he knows your stupidly selfless self will fight to apologize; which is why before you can say a word, he’s marching hastily out of those same doors and towards the luxurious guest chambers.
Truthfully, Gojo Satoru didn’t give a fuck about Naoya Zenin - but he’ll be damned if you, his beloved, was cast in a hameful light because of his childish actions.
He has to do something for you, while he still can. While he still has you. While he can still love you.
The corridors are winding, decadent. He takes a deep breath when nearing the slightly-open gilded door of the Zenin suite, that distinctly nasally tone of Naoya drifting in conversation from within. Shuddering in a deep breath, “Pardon m-”
“-drew me as a weasel!” The prince bursts, fury seeping into every hard syllable of his. Gojo stills where he stands outside, hand on the cool metallic doorknob. “I have never met such a vulgar, unrefined-”
“Oh, do bear it until the engagement Naoya.” The gruff voice of a man responds - and he recognizes it from all the recent chiding at palace staff to be the prince’s cousin, Jinichi Zenin. “After that ya can take your time breaking ‘er in.”
What?
“A boor telling me to break in a wench.” The younger man scoffs, though he sounds much calmer than just moments before.
Gojo thinks he could throw up all over the gleaming floors, he thinks he wants to keel over and beg at the king’s feet to keep this from happening to you. He thinks he just might.
But right now, he can’t bring his feet to move a single inch. Pressing himself up closer against the adjacent patterned wall, sharp ear yearning for more shards of the conversation.
“They’re all the same anyways.” Says Jinichi, “Just give ‘er something sparkly or flowery and keep her sated. Don’t want another one running off before you can dig your claws into the crown, now, do we?”
And perhaps he’s a hopeless fool for praying that Naoya might say something - anything - else. Wishing for the non-existent good in your soon-to-be fiancé, who only grits out a displeased, “Fine. Only because I want to see her pretty lil’ face when I break her to my will.” There’s the sound of urgent footsteps, “But if father doesn’t give me the throne for my efforts then I’m killing her and you, you brute.”
Stood stock still.
Gojo doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to - and right now, ice-cold spikes of anger were the only thing latching him rooted to the spot, not even flinching once Naoya closes the door behind him and walks- seeing him.
His jaw clenches, eyes harrowing. “You.”
And Naoya had very clearly taken the opportunity to arm himself in his family chamber, because his spindly fingers itch towards the hilt of his dangerously glinting sword. Just seconds away from-
“Please.”
Gojo drops onto one knee, the tendons of his neck aching with how far downwards he had it bent into a pitiful bow. “I ask his highness to please let the princess go- to call off this impending engagement. I- I will bear the brunt of committing an offense, and will gladly take any punishment that is bestowed upon me. I just please beg of you to-”
“The same hand.”
“What?” Gojo forces himself to look up with tear-filled eyes, to face the prince squarely in his chestnut gaze. His delighted chestnut gaze.
Pointing towards his right hand, “The same hand you were to raise your sword at me, the same hand you used to put that wretched toxic flower crown on me-” And then his blade, “-I order you to repent.”
The other man breathes, “Repent…”
“Repent.” Naoya stands up taller, perhaps the most self-confident that Gojo has ever seen him. A barbarous curl of his lips starting to form, “Repent, and I shall consider ending my engagement with the princ-”
CRUNCH!
Pain. Blinding pain was all that Gojo could feel, and…relief.
He couldn’t even register the steady trickle of warm crimson on his skin and onto the floor in rose-like splotches - even though he could see it through bleary eyes. Head still spinning to catch up with the nanosecond events of drawing his sword and slicing a wide gash down his forearm.
Through half-lidded eyes, he puts back his bloodied blade into the scabbard and looks up at the stricken prince.
Repentance.
“So you love her.” Is all that Naoya hisses. And Gojo can’t lie, nor can he muddy your name.
So he simply waits quietly, silence speaking enough for eons. Waiting for you to be set free. And if he tried, he could even manage a smile-
Sniffing insolently - though, it sounded more like a snicker. “How valiant, for a low-born.” All that is said before he spits furiously at Gojo’s feet and breezes past in a swish of capes - as if nothing ever happened. “I might even invite you to the princess and I’s wedding ceremony.”
.
.
.
In a palace of thousands, it was only Gojo Satoru that could manage to stand out.
None of the royal jesters could make the court laugh quite as loud. None of the other knights - no matter how muscled, or chivalrous - could make the ladies-in-waiting swoon just as much. And none of the other reputable men could make you seek him out in every chamber, state room, or training ground just like this.
It was strange not to see even the barest glimpse of Gojo for an entire day, and the palace didn’t quite feel like a home without him.
“I’m telling you, Nobara–” You’re wheezing out in condensed puffs as your eager right-hand attendant continues mercilessly tightening away the undergarments of your ballgown. “Something’s probably happened to him or-”
“-or he’s being locked up for offending some uppity duke.” She’s rolling her honeypool eyes, one of the few who wasn’t afraid to express themselves this way in front of you. Flitting about the opulent dressing room you rarely liked to use, “You know how that eugh- Gojo is.”
“Which is precisely why I’m worried.”
Honestly, you didn’t even care for a grand ball when you didn’t know where your best friend was. Whether he was in the dungeons or…worse.
But Nobara wasn’t here to hear you ramble about Gojo Satoru - you oftentimes got the impression that he irritated her too much for her own liking - she was here to doll you up in costly pale blue silks and muslins that draped off of you prettier than a painting.
And you felt dizzy by the time she let you be escorted off towards the emanating music of the ballroom - with an excited goodbye and a reluctant promise to keep an eye out for Gojo.
Hair done more intricately than you could’ve even imagined, your jewelry caught every light in the room, a bejeweled flower tiara weighing heavily on your head. Adorning your face in a crown that reminded you of the one Gojo had made you only a few days ago.
It was almost a struggle to keep your face held high as you took the first few steps down the winding imperial staircase. To the ball.
You have to stop yourself from tilting your head down at the thrumming masses of decadently dressed-up nobles and clinking champagne to check whether Gojo was hidden away somewhere down there.
Manners. Posture. Eye contact.
It was all painfully practised, and so was the tightening of your features as your own father started reading off your introduction. He never took on this task - what was happening?
“And now, for the most important guest of all-” Booming voice thundering in your ears almost as loud as your heartbeat was. The king addresses the congregation in the middle of the dancefloor, more ruler than father at this point. “-my daughter, princess of our beloved kingdom. And the queen of the next!”
Your hand stills where it had been helping you balance in your heels down the stairway- what?
Thankfully, your father carries on - or rather, not thankfully, considering what his next words are.
“Yes, my people, this may come as a surprise to you all.” He chuckles above the deafening murmurs, and you slowly find yourself scurrying onto the raised platform your father’s throne was seated on. “But tonight is not only a simple celebration of our nation, it’s a celebration of love. Of two nations.”
There’s a beat of silence as he reaches out a withered hand to you, and you find yourself wordlessly taking it.
“F-father, what-” you whisper, but there’s no response. Your skin bristles with goosebumps, and you’re not sure whether it’s from the summer breeze wafting from the gardens, or from the speech’s implications.
Letting yourself be pulled right into the middle of the stage,right into the spotlight - where Naoya Zenin was waiting for you. Dressed in his finest suit of white silk, adorned with layers upon layers of military accolades and velvety medals.
The bright, blazing light of the chandelier was scorching, and your hands clench in unease. What was happening?
“That is right, my people.” The king drags your hand up to mesh in an entwinement with Naoya’s clammy ones, holding it up for the eager public to see. “After much consideration and forethought, our royal families have decided that today my daughter is the beloved princess of our nation. But tomorrow, she will be the future queen of the Zenin kingdom.”
There’s cheering - but you can’t hear any of it. In fact, the entire world could be falling upon you and you don’t think you would have noticed.
All you can feel is the queasy churning of your stomach, and the stern whisper of Naoya’s voice against your ear. Fingers tightening around your own, bruisingly. “Dance with me before I break this pretty hand, princess.”
You’re like a ragdoll, being puppeteered in a rigid beeline onto the dance floor.
If it wasn’t for one of Naoya’s hands bracing onto your waist, you wouldn’t even have realized that the royal orchestra had started up a gorgeous waltz. A slow, romantic melody that you might’ve otherwise loved if you weren’t trapped in the arms of a fiancé you never asked for.
“Looking pretty out of it there, princess.” The prince sneers after a few practised motions of your dance, making your dazed eyes stray from the swooning crowd and onto his pointed features.
And despite it all, you can’t help but feel betrayed. You thought that the two of you might have rapport at your obligation, if nothing else. “You- you didn’t even tell me. An entire engagement and you didn’t even bother to-”
“As a husband, I don’t owe my tch- wife anything.” His nose crinkles at your wandering eyes, the way your feet itched ever-closer to the surrounding people rather than the dancefloor. “Wishing it was someone else dancing with you?”
“Yes.” You’re spitting out before you can stop, trying oh-so-hard not to let your face twist into even a semblance of the fury steeped inside of you. “Anyone but a husband that I never wanted and never will want.”
“As if you deserve any bett-”
Your nails dig into one set of his fingers enough to engrave deep craters, almost enough to make him bleed. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth.”
Naoya seems stunned for a few seconds - but, alas, just when you’re hoping that you’ve shut him up for good, you’re faced with the fact that the universe isn’t that kind to you.
“You mean you would marry the tch- low-born.” He pulls you into an incredibly rough twirl when the music crescendos, pulling you even closer. It’s all you can do to not fight his grip- “I’m not below finishing off his other hand if that’s what it takes to break you.”
“What are you even talking about?”
Each word jagged. “The knight. You love him, don’t act stupid.”
Raising your chin in defiance, “So what?” And just as much as confusion filled you, as did panic. Because Naoya’s grip was only getting firmer, his moves much harsher. Opening his mouth to spit out-
“Pardon me, your highnesses.” A deep bass cuts in, startled- you almost give yourself whiplash peering up into those fathomless mahogany eyes. Yaga’s thin brows furrowing into something heavily-set, “May I cut in for a dance with the princess?”
You don’t wait for an answer from Naoya - and neither does Commander Yaga. Swiftly sweeping you into his engulfing embrace as the orchestra changes into something slightly more upbeat.
Dressed in a thick suit adorned with even more medals than Naoya - ones you knew for sure were real, unlike his. And you couldn’t help but wonder just how good Gojo would look with his own.
“So…” Yaga starts, once more couples join the floor and his words can’t be heard over the shuffling of feet by anyone other than you. His calloused hands let you lead him through a waltz much more mellow than what Naoya had with you. You always did think that the leader of your knights was a gentle giant. “Begging you to forgive my indiscretion, ma’am but ah- trouble in paradise?”
“Trouble in hell, as expected.” You’re shuddering, gaze bouncing off of any flash of sapphire blue around the room.
The man in front of you nods gravely, “Right right. I might not be a married man, but even I know that times like these often call for a walk in the lilac garden. You know, to- ah, clear your head.”
Quirking a brow, you stare at him. “What?”
And oh, Yaga simply looked like all the gold in the world couldn’t pay him enough for this.
“Times like these-” He’s emphasizing, boring deeply into your eyes as if to mean every syllable to strike your very core. And it does. You don’t know why, but it does. “-call for a walk in the lilac garden.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
Yaga’s lips twitch upwards into an almost-smile, and his rumbling voice is soft for the next few words. “Go, your highness.”
So you do.
You’re realizing, with an ache of such gentle appreciation, that the commander had danced you two until you were practically teetering on the massive veranda. Open to the garden; where every prim hedge, bush, and tree was gorgeously decorated until your eyes sparkled.
Your breath bates…a choice. Head turning back to the luxuries of a royal ball that was none-the-wiser.
Then, with a brief hug you bully Yaga into, you run - as much as the delicate heels digging into your feet would allow. Faster.
If this was any other time, you might’ve felt disappointed at how you weren’t even stopping to admire the beauty of the moonlight-bathed garden. But right now, your heart was only pounding to go faster and faster.
Nothing else mattered.
Gojo was leaning on one pillar of the same white gazebo - and he was beautiful. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was a faerie of the night.
Just a lone, tall silhouette that you could recognize so well; azure eyes twinkling, ivory strands of his hair shimmering with the silvery blue of the moon swimming amongst a dark sky. One he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of until he jolts his head towards the sharp snap! of a twig underneath your rapid feet.
“My…my princess.” He falls onto one knee.
It all comes out in a whisper - as if Gojo had dreamed of this moment so many repeated times before and wasn’t sure if this was a dream, too.
“Satoru-!”
It wasn’t.
Gojo stands up to embrace you like it’d be the last time he ever would, like you were the one thing connecting him to this life and he was a dying man desperate to breathe.
Strong arms winding around your waist, you’re pushed against one of the closed-off walls of the gazebo before you can even realize it. Arching off of the cool wooden surface and into his blistering heat. Into every ravenous, panted-out cloud of breath against your ear, “You came.”
He sounded pained. And you were sure you did just as much when you’re whimpering, “You disappeared.”
Gojo lets off a choked-up noise that could’ve been anything from affirmation to blatant shock. Half-lidded eyes boring deeply into yours, he shrugs off the jacket on his non-dominant arm to you with a low bow.
“May I have this dance, my princess?”
You’re gasping at the sight of starchy white bandages around his other hand, fingers hesitantly falling into Gojo’s heated flesh. “S-Satoru, what happened ah-”
But he drifts you gently into a soundless dance, the distant crickets and swish! of lilac branches your only tune.
And you never even understood just how much Gojo was a part of your life until he was moving through the exact same steps of waltzing that you’d learned growing up. The exact same once that you used to force him to sit through.
“I thought you were here because you read my letter.” Gojo mutters, lips so close now that they grazed the sensitive shell of your ear.
You’re having trouble finding your voice, “What letter?”
“The- the one that I left-” Just for you. His long lashes flutter open in shock, features contorted into something almost devastated. You wonder what made him feel this way. “-the one that I left in your chambers- about the- the prince, and the engagement and-”
“I got prepared for the ball in the dressing room today, I didn’t go to my room.” You’re continuing, voice small. Scared. “Satoru…you knew about the engagement?”
And Gojo’s voice told you everything you needed to know.
You feel your angry flare up hot and red, fists curling into Gojo’s delicate lapels. But that only proves to inch him even closer and make you sound much more breathless than you intended, “You knew about it and- and you didn’t even think to give me a hint that I was being carted off like a prize for some pompous asshat?”
He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, lips still so pink in the night, wobbling. “I…I couldn’t let you be married, I just couldn’t. I would give my life if it meant you get the freedom to choose who you wanted.” Your dance had stalled, and you almost feel disappointed. “But I’m a coward, and this-” Gojo throws his hands across, voice hitching, “-sneaking around, hiding, running away is the only way I could ever-”
“You should have told me. Not just in the letter.” You’re insisting, running your hands through your hair. Suddenly, something strikes you, “That arm- it’s because of Naoya, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t even have the energy to protest, and that only spurs you on even more. “I-I could have talked to my father- maybe the council and we could have made it so that…”
“So that what?” Gojo’s voice hardens as much as it could with you, which wasn’t very much at all. His fists clench and unclench at his sides like it was taking everything in him to not just…“So that you can be the laughingstock of the kingdom when you marry a low-born knight?”
He was right. They would never accept him, no matter how much you did.
You’re rendered speechless, shivering at the way he rubs his wet eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, I don’t want you- I need you.” And he was so beautiful like this, just centimeters away from you in the escape of the night. “I need you. I need you, I need you- I need you more than the sun above my head, and the air that I breathe, my princess. You have bewitched me, and I am yours. But you cannot be mine-”
You breathe out, “Satoru…”
“-and maybe in another life-”
“Maybe in this one.”
Soft hands rover their way onto the sides of your arms, and Gojo shakes you feebly as if to snap you out of this hypnosis and urge you to run. Eyes wide, yearning. “I have always been yours, body and soul.”
You always have wondered whether there was a method to shut Gojo Satoru up. And, right now, you think you may have found the perfect answer.
Because his entire towering figure just melts into your touch the very second you press your lips onto Gojo’s plump ones. Soft. Velvety.
His nostrils flare through a breathy sigh when you tilt your head mere sultry degrees to deepen the kiss. You were addicted to the honey-coated taste of him, the flat drag of his scratchy tastebuds rolling over your loosening maw.
“Ngh- my princess…” He’s puncturing your kisses with kiss after sloppy kiss, heavy hands wrapping around your body to wrangle you flush against his hardened ones. And you could count every glissade of his washboard abs through that thin poet’s blouse, “I love you.”
You’re not sure if it’s a fragment of your imagination, or- it’s not.
Gojo manhandles you - and himself - to sit on the opulent gazebo bench with you plopped into his manspread lap, without breaking the kiss for a split-second. Because it hurt to part from your pretty, candied lips, to let those slippery strings of saliva break in the clouded air between you two.
Even if it was to purr out—
“I love you I love you I love you-” The straight edges of his pearly white teeth sinking into your lower lip, groaning from the back of his throat. And your jittery legs shift needily on his warm, meaty thighs, “-I love you.”
“Satoru—” Just about the only thing that you can say right about now, your tone resounds in Gojo’s ears and makes him grunt. Your fingers tangle into his cushy locks, “T-touch me.”
He snickers, one hand clawing onto the crown of your sweat-dampened scalp and wrenching your face away until you’re huffing and puffing cutely for more. “Mmm, how about we use those princess-y manners of yours, hm?”
“Please-”
“Louder.”
“Please.”
“Harlot.” Gojo slides in a looong few digits past those impossibly endless skirts of yours, making your thighs dampen with treacly webs of needy slick. Letting those doughy fingerpads fringe over the covered mound of your pussy, just the very edges. “That was my f-first kiss, y’know?”
He had been hopelessly saving it for you, after all.
Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your weighted lids as soon as he teases you, mewling. “Was mine too, so we’re even-” Your hips shift in a lazy back n’ forth on top of his heated core, “-just- just want you to touch me.”
“I dunno…” Gojo drawls - drunken. And you feel the edges of his kiss-bitten lips warp around the very tip of your plummy tongue to suck on like his favorite gummy candy, “Wanna kiss my princess just a lil’ bit more.”
Panting, “K-kiss?”
“Mhm.”
Your eyes shutter in a heady blink, oh-so-cutely ready to crash back into a filthy, filthy French kiss once more, Gojo pulls away-
A noise of disappointment fresh on your lips and just about to spill out, before he lifts you up easily with only a single beefy hand underneath your body. Splaying you out on the sprawling wooden table right beside you, your back hits the ice-cold surface and makes you gasp into the crisp night air.
The lecherous sound of it almost as loud as the sudden clack! of Gojo’s knees collapsing down onto the floor. Your face contorts into a wince because surely it sent a stinging pain up his legs?
“M’quite used to being on my knees for you, my princess.”
But he didn’t seem to care - didn’t even seem to notice when he was much more enamored with the heavenly sight down there.
“These lips-” He smears away your lacy layers upon layers, budging up to nuzzle the soft skin of your inner thighs. And shit- the filmy glaze over his eyes told you that Gojo doesn’t even realize the way his bubblegum pink tongue lolls out over the splotchy spatters of your juices. “-were tellin’ me they feel a little…left out.”
Your mouth waters with a syrupy lamination of saliva as soon as his murked breath strikes your cunt. And the drag of his rumbling bass is so delicious – you couldn’t help but imagine just how it would feel on you.
“Just- just get it on with it-” you’re hissing, fingers latching onto a few thick locks of ivory to drudge him ever-closer.
“Impatient.”
As if Gojo himself wasn’t impatient.
As if he wasn’t just leaking out thick wads of drool from the parted sides of his twisted grin at just the thought of tasting you. Sliding the pointed tip of his button nose languidly up the crevice of your puffed-up slit, he breathes you in and feels his cock twitch-
“Oh, princess.” Gojo can’t move, he can’t breathe if it wasn’t around your needy cunt right now. He’s ignoring those shooting bites of pain up the sides of his arm to tug on your useless garments.
Pulling- shit, he always did fucking hate how many layers you royalty had to wear.
Pulling and pulling until the slow trawl of your undergarments by his nimble fingers wasn’t enough, and he just had to lunge his cottony head over to plummet his pearly whites into your panties and rip—!
A proper, gaping hole where your teary pussy was- and you looked even more gorgeous down there than he could’ve imagined.
Gojo’s face was blank, eyes wide and locked right at your geysering orifice like a man starved. For eons it felt like, until you were bucking up with pure need.
You’re humming in concern, struggling up onto your elbows to stare down at him. “Sa…Toru?”
And at your pretty voice, Gojo twitches. He gasps - full-bodied, like you’d just sent a zillion volts of shock down his sloped spine just by speaking to him. And he was well and fully intent on acting on it-
“Princess…princess princess princess—” Leaking from between his lips like he couldn’t stop, he hits the cute target of your cunt instantaneously with a fat thud of spittle, one. Two. Three, until your entrance was overflooding. He’s drawling the plummy end of his spit-glossed maw across your folds, “Oh, my princess. Just look at you.”
You feel his mess drool off the side of your plumpened pussylips and smear all across your peaked clit with only a simple touch of Gojo’s round-ended thumb.
Just down-right filthy when he crashes forward to slot the curvaceous nub of his sweltering hot tongue over the brim of your hole. Drawing all over that snug orifice with slow patterns round n’ round-
“Toru–!” It’s the only thing you know at this point. “Toru.”
“Whaaat? Jealous, my princess?” The words clang in your head- and the realization hits you at the same moment Gojo’s thickly viscous swab of spit does on your own tongue. A soft nudge at your slackened chin urging you to swallow-
And he can’t waste a second, can’t spend even a mere moment away from his favorite spot between your legs. Because now that Gojo got a taste, he wants alllll of it.
Stumbling back down in haste to plant so many uncountable smooches on your bawling pussy folds. Skimming his tastebuds just along your quivering hole.
“Shit- shiiiit–” When you’d heard court ladies giggling about this, you didn’t think it would feel this good. Or maybe that’s just because it was Gojo stuffing himself impossibly deeper between your legs. “M-more, Toru–”
Your voice was cracking just as much as his fucking sanity was.
Trilling out into frenzied shrills when Gojo swerves his eager thumb to pry open your gluey folds even further and give your fattened clit a flick!
You swear you feel Gojo depart his jaw with a giggle when your hips are bucking up pliably off the splintered table and into the bustling hot cavern of his mouth. More. “Easy there, your royal highness-”
“D-don’t call me that–” You’re whimpering, fingers tugging on Gojo’s bangs in some form of retaliation. But, of course it backfires on you just as soon as the force makes your knight moan.
“Wasn’t calling you that.” Gojo rolls his eyes, and your heart races in anticipation when the pointed edge of his chin strikes the drowned ends of your cunt. Lathering his pretty features in all the collective beads of slick raining fountaining out of you. His summer blue eyes flick downwards - and you can’t help but follow. “Was talking to her. Isn’t that right?”
Fuck.
You were fucked.
And you were losing your mind when Gojo drags you roughly towards the edge of the table with only an ounce of his strength. Mouth making out greedily, heels digging into the fleshy mounds of his back, you can only sob and beg for more more more-
“S’fuckin’ chattier than my girl.” He’s nodding along with every saturated squelch after squelch! resonating in his eardrums - as if it was a full-on conversation with your noisy pussy. “Let’s hope that fiancé of yours doesn’t hah- f-fucking hear.”
But Gojo was acting like he wanted him to.
“Hope the- the king doesn’t find his princess bein’ eaten out by- ngh- a knight.” Barrelling long, slender inches of his index and pointer past your tight ring of mushy muscle.
Your head throws back when he digs into the velvety depths of your pussy with just a single quirk-
“O-oh my god, Satoru–” You’re gasping in the flowery night air, tummy aching with every pump deeper because he was just so close to where you wanted him. “More- j-just a bit more.”
And yet, he acts like he doesn’t even hear you right now.
Cupping over one massive palm over his ear and drifting ever-closer, “Wha’s that? C-can’t hear ya, girl- ngh ya gotta be- louder.”
Louder and louder he was getting with the vulgarly fast thrust graced upon your gummy walls. The sound only makes him giggle all drunk on you, “What’s that? Here? That turn you on? Hmmm…”
And just when you’re letting your vision blur with stars- just when you think it couldn’t get any better-
“Mmmm– wan’ another taste-”
It’s the last thing your ringing ears hear before Gojo’s lurching forwards and burying his nose into your sensitive clit to give your overstuffed entrance a leeengthy lick. Right at the very split-second the globular edges of his digits scratch at that magical spot.
“W-woah.” Your head snaps up blearily to steal a glimpse at what had Gojo Satoru’s voice so airy n’ cracking in awe.
Only to see him fluttering his lathered lashes, the slick-gleaming apples of his cheeks blushing. Like some maiden in love. “Got even wetter f’me, your highness.” He’s breathing out, spitting out another voluminous cobweb of drivel and watching the way it sliiides across with the ribbons of slick pouring out of you. “Ohhhh, even b-better than any candy- better than a-any dessert.”
You yelp when one rugged and grabs a rough handful of your ass and latches his lips even sloppier against your hole. “T-Toru your arm!”
“Oh? This?” He’s glancing down at the bandages as if he’d forgotten they were ever there. “S’nothing for your- hah- personal knight. Doesn’t even hurt, I’d- I’d rather die than let a stupid injury get in the way of what I’ve been dreaming of for aaaages.”
The dual points of pleasure make your toes curl, every part of your body shaking-
Gojo was out of control now. Crazed.
High-pitched bouts of giggles escaping him, muffling around where his candy-glazed cerise lips were latched around your clit and sucking. He makes sure to hold fatal eye contact while he hollows out his scorching cheeks and drags the fleshy nub.
“M-making out with your pussy- your pretty, pretty pussy, my princess.” Your heartbeat echoes in rapid staccato with the vicious thud! thud! thud! of his neatly crowned fingertips pecking your g-spot. Each of his puffed-out gruffs making your tongue loosen in a please, “Making you s-so loud, making you feel so good.”
And without even realizing it, he’s rovering the papping brims of his fingers to give your clit a spank. Letting the syrupy beads slide allll the way down his tongue - letting you watch.
“S’all me.” Gojo slurs out. “Me- me me me me–” Steady rivulets of slick bubbling from the edges of his tongue when his sinful motions get faster. Harder. “Gonna ask who m-made you feel this way n’ it’s me. Your Satoru.”
More ravenous.
Swirling around slow probes of his sensory tips, it glazes his skin all the way down to his knobbly wrist in a thick coat of sap. Memorizing every gooey ridge and crevice inside your tight channel - shit, Gojo feels his ruddied tip spurt out a jetstream of buttery pre in his pants.
He thinks he might just burst in his pants if you don’t finish right this second.
But luckily - or unluckily - for him, you do. Right this very second, after being wrung dry underneath only a few more lapping slashes of his ferocious tongue, tweaking your buttony clit until you cum.
And oh, you’re so pretty when you do.
Your head throwing back with a broken moan of Toru–! It takes every ounce of trained will in his drunken body to not break off from your gooey pussy and watch the way your beautiful face twists.
Fucked out.
“O-oh, shit–” You’re practically sobbing at this point, wrist aching with just how hard you were pushing Gojo’s readily used face into your fluttering core. Your vision blurs with sparks n’ stars, “-H-how are you so good. Unfair, unfair—”
Babbling away such nonsense with that smart mouth of yours, Gojo thinks he sees utter heaven when your hot juices flood inside his mouth in generous heaps.
Lugging down an open palm underneath his chin to greedily collect the leaking beads that sprinkly in a shiny sheen off of his chin, he finds himself moaning. “Shhh, your knight’s here. Give it t’me– use me, my princess.”
And use him you were.
Riding out each white-hot peak of your high with slobbering grinds all across Gojo’s beautiful features. Your clit catches on the poking ridges of his mouth and nose and you squeal- “Ngh- b-better when you’re shut up like th-this, Satoru–”
Just for that, he’s spanking your goopy pussy thoroughly.
All the way until those shots of electricity down your bowed spine are nothing more but prickly tingles, all the way until your thundering ears calm down and you can hear each damp thwack!
All the way until your high has bated and yet, Gojo is still snogging each swollen fold of your pussy like a feast. “M’sensitive–” You sniffle, and he doesn’t even seem to hear you. “Fuh-fuck, Toru, keep doing that n’ m’not gonna let you ngh fuck me.”
That’s what finally gets his attention.
You can feel your lips burst with a slight giggle when all it takes is a quick nanosecond for Gojo’s plumpened mouth to jerk away from your cunt with the snap! of wiry slick.
Scrambling onto unsteady feet, he’s teetering over the edge of the wood ever-so-slightly. Muscular body casting a shadow on yours, and you think he’s never looked sexier.
Fawny strands of frosty white curtaining Gojo’s half-lidded eyes, thick thighs pressing against yours shivering; and even from your position homed towards the end of the table, your eyes catch sight of such a massively outlined bulge.
Staggering.
One that made your hands ghost down Gojo’s tensed abs, and he’s throwing his perspiration-dampened head with a whine.
“Need you, Satoru–” You’re managing out, strangled and messy. You’re sure you sound just as yearning as you feel. Fingers tug-tug-tugging impatiently on his gauzy clothes, “Want- you- out of these-”
And whatever the princess wants, the princess gets.
It’s as if on command - Gojo’s shedding his billowy shirt like it burned him. And very, very soon were his snug pants to follow, your layers, his sanity-
“Hngh- please.” He’s gruffing out, flinching just as soon as you cup his cheeks to smear away the remaining traces of slick glimmering on top of his blushing skin. Your touch was electric. Tonality painfully hoarse, “Let me fuck you- wanted it for so long. Let me fuck you please.”
Your drenched pussylips stream out a damp spot right across where you could feel his inflated vein poke between your folds. And he felt so…long. “Yes- yes, please.”
Getting the princess to say please?
He’s nodding his head shakily - Gojo could pass out, he could cu-
Oh, just a few taps of his mushroom tip on the outer edges of your pussy and he spots something creamy topping over your mound like icing. Sweat-slicked brows furrowing, Gojo nudges in even closer to where pooling splotches of cum pours from the strawberry pink divot right in the middle of his head.
He’s cumming and he couldn’t stop.
Couldn’t do anything but whine at the tender bolts of bliss aching all the way from his toes to his fuzzy head.
“S-Satoru did you just-”
“Shut up.” Oh, you would have his head later for this. “Shut up- shut up and just…”
N’ so he curls a hand at his bulky base and draws out a thick swab at the torrents of seed decorating your cute cunt. Making sure the milky sap formulated a glossy cap on his crownhead, before pushing rigorously in-
“F-f-fuuuuck–” he keens out, a thin line of sweat trekking down the side of his temples. And if he pushed just an inch further, Gojo could feel his hooded eyes well up with fucking tears- “Tight so tight s-sooo hot- so…”
You’re mewling, “Deeper- c-c’mon.”
He was fucking you like he didn’t even realize it - like he was enchanted by each mindless rut pulled from the carnal depths of his hips.
Two warm hands latch on in a vice-like grip on the delicious curve of your hips, and he’s holding your body still and pushing and pushing and pushing-
“Sh-shit!” Gojo’s voice pitches up embarrassingly high at the end of his slew of swears, buttering up your insides in a muggy few ribbons of pre in response. “But s-so tight- dunno if it’ll even…even fit.”
He sounded hypnotized.
“Are you- ngh! are you alright, Satoru?” You’re musing out, eyes glassy with a solid combination of lust and utter concern. Before you know it, your hand is reaching out to stroke the ba-dump–! thudding against his pecs.
“No.”
And it takes only the slightest graze of your doughy fingerpads against his flaming hot skin, the slightest touch from you before Gojo rudely swats your hand away and bottoms out-
You don’t even know what you were mad at- were you mad?
You really can’t even remember. Not when the crowned tip of Gojo’s incredible length was planting a sweet peck right into the sponged ends of your cervix, the entirety of his shaft spearheading you so deep that you think he might just be fucking into your lungs.
So big that he didn’t even have to try to rub the puffy zig-zag of his veins along your sweetest spots, even the most minute gyrations made your toes curl.
Splitting you apart. Stroking the weepy base of your slit with the hot, rounded sack of his breeder balls so right that it made you putty in his hands.
“Don’t t-touch me, my princess.” Gojo’s nuzzling his tear-stuck cheek against your own, you could feel the warble of his unsteady confessions. “Don’t touch me or I’ll…I’ll cum.”
And when has Gojo Satoru ever lied to you? Well, the upturned jolt of his split-ended tip right into the target of your mushy cervix told you that he wasn’t.
Gojo’s sinking down the edges of his teeth into his wobbly lower lip, he’s forcing his eyes to narrow down n’ obscure his crystal clear image of you to stop himself from cumming.
“So beautiful, can’t help it–” His breath hitches once he’s pushing apart your trembly thighs and stretching them over the two ends of his broad shoulders. Your ankles pitching down onto the rippling plush of his toned deltoids. “So perfect.”
“S-sweet-talker.” You whisper, mouth as dry as the Sahara with how his thick circumference was stretching out your rubbery walls until they were seering.
But if Gojo heard then he didn’t snap back - he was too pussydrunken to.
Moving on instinct, on that carnal twinge inside his brain that forced his powerful limbs to lock your ankles with one hand behind his head. To brace an engulfing palm right beside your head and lower himself down, down, down into a-
A mating press.
Gojo Satoru had you in a fucking mating press.
“So mine.”
And he was pounding all his aching inches into you like it would be the last time. Like he was mazing through your adhesive-like walls and plummeting the leaky end of his cock to knock against your very womb.
Gojo’s nose crinkles at the sheer warmth you were coating him in, dripping fresh slathers of slick in rings ‘round his hilt. He shivers as it drools down his tight balls, “I’m…I’m really fucking you- ngh! I’m fucking you, my princess.”
“Yes- yes yes yes—” Your mouth parts ajar, and you don’t know what it floods more with - your pathetic whines, or saliva. Coating a treacly river from each curl of your lips, “More. More, Toru.”
Oh.
You might have just broken him with that.
Even through your fucked-out stupor, you’re gaping at the way that the hand beside your head curls into an unyielding fist. It has to.
Otherwise, Gojo’s plump cockhead would be sugarcoating your sloppy hole in much more than just copious amounts of sticky precum. He would’ve cum.
“M-more?” You hear from above you, your knight’s bulging pecs vibrating with the plea. Oh, was it a plea - strained, shaking. Gojo sounded as if he was two seconds away from simply bursting into crazed laughter, “More…more. My princess wants- fuck! More?”
Fat ends of his fingers lock around the sides of your cheeks and force you into such an unladylike pout. “Say it- say it, little royal.”
“Shit!” Your core arches up into his hardened one, just as Gojo knew it would when angling his hips juuust right to give your bulging g-spot a long, hard swipe. Your throbbing clit scratching against his pale happy trail. “Yes- ngh yes I want more. Want more, Satoru!”
More.
And more was exactly what you were going to get. More than you could handle.
Your thighs ache with the struggle to stay open when Gojo tightens his lock around your ankles. Gruffing out a tight, “Take it then.”
He was so sexy, the swelling flex of his biceps enough to make your pussy drool and him slip n’ slide pliantly. Jackhammering away rugged pumps that you feel all the way in your leaden throat.
Your most favorite spots are so bruised that they’re almost tender, curling the base of your spine with tendrils of bliss that make you yelp.
“O-ohhh my god—” The side of his neck dampens as you’re leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that make the man pinning you down shiver. His sculpted abs twinging with every massage down your front, “Just like that, a-always wanted to fuck you, Toru–”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Gojo hiccups, the expression upon his features plain pained. Voice dipping into a whine, “Don’t know what y-you’re doing t’me.”
But now that you were babbling away, you couldn’t stop. Not even when he’s speeding up his vigorous cadence until the globes of your ass are left stinging, “M’serious– I always wanted-”
“Shut up shut up- shut up- my princess.” You don’t think that either of you were even lucid at this point, and every pap! of skin-on-skin is followed by the screeching creak of the table below you. Gojo rolls his eyes down at you fondly, “Gotta m-make you cum so you can shut up.”
Otherwise you were going to drive him wild until there’s no turning back.
Before you can let off a moan - or fervently agree - he thumbs over the perked hood of your clit. Drawing- circles? Hearts? No, his own name.
A tedious little S-A-T-O-R-U that makes your gushing walls clench oh-so-tightly around his sweltering length. Tummy tightening into something so close to shattering.
And Gojo was rough. Snickering at the way you whine, spilling out wadded volumes of spittle between your parted lips. He breathes, “Gonna make you cum- g-gonna make my princess cum.” You swear he nods down at your pussy and grins, “G-gotta be a good girl f’me, m’kay? Gonna be a good- girl- and…”
His hips slap sloppily against yours, overworked thumb stuttering on a swooping U over your sensitive nub. And the tension in the air pulls tight, tight, tight like the most delicate of strings, before crashing- “-cum.”
You don’t know who cums first - you or Gojo.
All you know is that as soon as your mind explodes with bursts of bliss - his poor cock does, as well.
Head toppling backwards, overfilled pussy slopping out waterfalls of sweet, sweet juices, it’s all you can do not to sob.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck-” Your nails rake red, red lines all down his expansive back. Pulling him in even closer until all he can manage are dirty lil’ half-thrusts to pound you through your high. “M’cumming, Toru-”
“Y-yeah?” Gojo’s stuttering wetly, sloppily. Pushing the fat battering of his fountaining orifice into the groove of your g-spot over n’ over n’ over. You didn’t know how anything could feel so good. “N’ who made you cum, hm? Who’s f-fucking this pretty pussy, hm?”
“You-” You’re prattling, “You, Satoru.”
“Fuck.” Gojo gapes in wide-eyed craze, breath hitching when you lean over to drag your tongue over the sappy trickle of drool escaping his rose-red lips. “G-gonna make me cum again, swear-”
And he does.
“Can- can we hold hands while I hck! fuck you through your high, my princess?” He bats his lashes, a delicate blush taking over the tips of Gojo’s ears when you lace your fingers together.
You can feel the splat! of even more heavy seed hitting the bottom of your pussy, swashing a warm second coating to your elastic walls every time Gojo thrusts. He was so solidly inside. Pinpointing specks of pure white with each swab.
So full. So much of his voluminous ounces that it’s taken to tipping over from between your pussylips and forming a creamy puddle below you. You’re slipping all over it with every slither of Gojo’s cock.
But neither of you can even think to bring yourselves to be disgusted. To care for etiquette.
Because Gojo drifts his hand over an invisible line where your tummy was being bloated with his length and his cum- and you find yourself aching for more all over again.
“This looks…” Gojo starts, syllables scratchy and jagged. He’s practically whimpering - whimpering - at the sight of that lecherous cylindrical bulge being fucked into you.
You’re dripping with him, and his cock twitches ferally at the thought of you all round and glowing. What a pretty mama you’d make. “...looks like the n-next heir to the throne will be a Gojo, my princess.”
Oh, you liked the thought of that.
And looking at Gojo Satoru now - eyes still not fully focused with how ruined he was, skin blushed the same maidenly shade of red that his slobbering mushroom tip was, pretty smile directed at you and only you in this lilac-scented haze - you didn’t think you wanted it any other way.
But, of course, Gojo would never want it any other way, either. Never.
He clears his throat, sapphire gaze hardening; the intensity of it sending chills sprinting down your spine. Burning with a fervent I love you I love you I love you.
Massive hands intertwined with yours pull into your line of vision, and Gojo takes his dear time pressing a lingering peck onto each n’ every single one of your knuckles. But particularly on the one above your left ring finger.
This was it.
“My princess…run away with me?”
.
.
.
“Didya hear ‘bout that Prince Naoya?”
“Oh yes- had his bride stolen away by a knight, I hear. Put a knife to his throat n’ took her away in the dead of night!”
“Hogwash! The boy was a looker, she went quite willingly, see- I always did think that Naoya wasn’t good ‘nough for our princess.”
“Wonder what happened after? That Zenin bunch was quite furious I hear, that bratty prince is still out for blood. But ol’ Naobito and some commander came to the rescue- Somethin’ about corruption and Jinichi…”
“Bah! Who cares about that? S’the biggest royal affair of the century- a handsome knight sweeping away the beloved princess? They’re swoonin’ n’ calling him the Knight of Roses already. All I wanna know is how the young couple is doing!”
Yaga rolls his eyes at other rambunctious customers churning gossip-mill, a pint clutched tightly in one hand and a scrap of paper in the other.
Honestly, he comes to the pub for once to escape from palace duties - and the palace duties seem to want to escape with him!
And even after so many months since that engagement party fiasco? News really did trickle down slowly when royal scandals were so often covered.
Oh, whatever. He muses, thumb gliding over the glossy parchment- some new innovation from kingdoms beyond the sea, according to what the eagerly-accompanied writing had said. A…a photograph, you had called it.
And Gojo’s surprisingly intricate drawing of you fiddling with the ah- camera gave him an idea of the machinery, though- most of the sketches were of you. All of them, actually.
Yaga gazes on in slight wonderment at the perfect black and white depiction of your smile, rivalling the one of Gojo Satoru’s beside yours. Beaming, sleeves rolled up and fatigued with a day of hard work, so in love.
It was oh-so-positively sweet.
The cherry on top? Well, Yaga couldn’t quite decide between the matching bands glinting on each of your left ring-fingers, the glimpse of a pretty lil’ cottage behind you two, and the massive bouquet of undoubtedly deep red roses Gojo was presenting you with.
Or perhaps it was the hand you were resting absent-mindedly on the obviously rounded curve of your tummy.
How fortunate, he tucks away the photograph into his coat with a smile and orders another pint. Knight of Roses, indeed.
A/N. Yearning is my kink mhm. Hope you have a lovely week <3
໒꒱₊ ⊹ you send them the "would you miss me if I was gone" text 𓂃.
໒꒱₊ ⊹ characters: N. Kento, F. Toji, I. Shoko, R. Sukuna, K. Choso, G. Suguru, G. Satoru, H. Yu
໒꒱₊ ⊹ warnings: depression, self harm, death (no one dies don’t worry it’s not angsty in that way)
໒꒱₊ ⊹ extra stuff to notice: Sukuna is not a curse in this verse, nor is Choso, and they’re all older brothers of Yuuji. Toji isn’t an assassin, he left and he now works as a chef in a restaurant bc I said so. Kento and Satoru’s readers are siblings and heirs of their family business empire. Fem reader intended.
Young Luke and Kieran AU, Sylus x nonMC!Reader | fem reader, not proofread | 1139 words | Crow Family masterlist
authors note: i think i made sylus a little too weepy in this and it’s rlly cheesy but its so sweet so idc. i almost cried writing this tbh. i hope you love it <3
Silence greeted you the moment you stepped into the base. No six year-olds clinging to your legs. No too-large man pulling you to the couch.
You stepped inside cautiously, breathing a sigh fo relief at the pitter-patter of little feet.
"Mama!" Luke whisper-shouted. "Mama, Mama, we have to be quiet!"
You knelt down, glancing between them. "Why is that, my loves?" you asked softly.
"Papa's 'eeping," Kieran whispered.
Luke nodded solemnly, leaning close to your ear and raising his hand to cover his mouth. "Papa was punching all the bad guys super hard last night so he's extra tired."
Kieran mirrored Luke's pose, leaning in conspiratorially. "Yeah, he was saying, um…" He furrowed his brows for a beat. "'It doesn't matter whose place this is—'"
"'It's time for a new ruler!'" Luke finished, feigning a deep voice.
"You sound almost as scary as me," came a booming, groggy voice.
"Papa!" The twins grinned, running to his feet. He gently patted their heads before glancing up at you.
"I thought you were sleeping," you said.
Sylus's lips just barely curled up. "Let's just say I have a… sixth sense when it comes to you." He beckoned you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist once you got close enough.
"Happy birthday," you murmured, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck.
His arms tightened around you just a fraction. "Did I ever tell you my birthday?" he asked.
"I have two very eager informants," you chuckled.
Luke tugged on your clothes. "Mama, did you bring cake?"
You laughed. "Yes I did, my love, but I think we should let Papa get a little more rest before we eat cake."
Kieran sighed woefully. "Can we at least give him our presents now?" he asked hopefully.
"I'm alright with that," Sylus shrugged.
"Alright," you relented. "Gifts, and then Papa takes a nap."
The twins darted away before you could finish speaking, giggles left in their wake. Sylus raised a brow, tracking them carefully.
"I hate that they had to hear what happened last night," he murmured.
"But at least they're safe," you said.
Sylus nodded. "At least they're safe."
The twins returned quickly, Kieran dragging along a large bag while Luke bounced eagerly beside him.
"Open it, Papa!" he ordered.
"We'll sit on the couch first, yeah?" Sylus chuckled.
Luke and Kieran crawled into his lap as soon as he sat down, tucking themselves into each of his sides. You snapped a quick picture before sitting down next to them.
Sylus pulled the tissue paper out carefully, a warm smile growing as he pulled out a Grumpy Crow plushie.
"It's your very own Mephisto!" Kieran chirped.
Mephisto squawked in protest.
Luke patted his head sympathetically. "Don't worry, Mephie, we're not replacing you."
"You made Mephie to keep us safe," Kieran explained. "So we wanted to give you your very own crow so you'll be safe, too!"
Sylus's breath shuddered for a beat before he pulled both twins in for a tight hug. "Thank you, boys. I'll be extra safe from now on."
They grinned brightly in unison. "We knew it'd protect you, Papa!"
"Now it's time for Mama's gift!" Luke turned to you eagerly.
"Mine won't protect you like Grumpy Crow will," you said slowly as you handed Sylus a small box. "But I hope you like it."
Sylus looked at you curiously before gingerly opening the box, eyes fixating on a silver ring.
"I saw the ruby and thought of you," you said, wringing your hands.
"You thought of me?" Sylus's gaze flickered to you, something vulnerable passing through before that familiar cockiness shone through. "Just can’t get me out of your head, can you, sweetie?"
"No, I can't." You shook your head honestly. "I figure that will look pretty on your hand until I can get you a different kind of ring."
Sylus's ears flushed red, mouth running dry.
Luke and Kieran giggled. "Mama and Papa sittin' in a tree—"
"Don't you want to give Papa the last gift?" you interrupted.
Any mischief in their eyes disappeared as they nodded eagerly.
"The last gift?" Sylus echoed. "Just what do you three have planned?"
"Just look," you said simply, handing him a manila envelope.
Sylus's brows furrowed, hesitating for just a beat. With a deep breath, he opened it, pulling out a collection of papers.
"Certificate of adoption?" he read. "Is this—" His voice caught in his throat.
"We want you to be our Papa for real," Kieran said. "Will you please be our Papa, Papa?"
"Of course, my boys." Tears built along his waterline. "I'll always be your Papa. Always."
He pulled them in close, grateful that either of them mentioned his tears dampening their shirts.
"I thought I wouldn't be able to," he muttered. "Their birth certificates—"
"I pulled a few strings," you answered. "They're not the official certificates they were given at birth, but they're enough."
"Thank you." Sylus's gaze was heavy. "Thank you so much." He pressed kisses to each twin's cheeks. "And thank you, boys, for wanting me to be your Papa." His tears ran freely now. "This is the greatest gift I could have asked for." Sylus took a deep breath. "I'm so proud to have you as my sons."
"I love you, Papa," Kieran said softly.
"Yeah, Papa, I love you," Luke nodded.
"I love you, too." Sylus smiled. "So much. My boys."
You rose to your feet slowly. "Why don't we go take that nap?" you suggested gently.
Sylus stood, one twin in each arm. "Come on, little dove," he nodded you forward. "I'd like the whole family together."
You crawled into bed first, the twins following close behind. Luke curled into your side, a small heater against your stomach. When Sylus climbed in, pulling you into his arms, Kieran collapsed onto his chest, soft snores rising within seconds. Luke followed suit soon after.
"They're more tired than I am," Sylus chuckled.
You stared at him, hair tousled and eyes heavy and tired but full of adoration as he watched the rise and fall of Kieran's chest.
"You're the best thing to happen to those boys, you know," you murmured.
Sylus blinked, doubt painting his features. "I hardly think anyone with my lifestyle can be the best thing for a pair of six year-olds."
"I wouldn't have thought that at first either," you admitted. "But you are. There's no doubt about it. You gave them what they needed… love."
"I rather think it's the other way around." He gently brushed the bangs out of Kieran's eyes. "They deserve everything," he sighed.
You scooted closer. "And you're willing to give it to them."
"Yeah." Sylus swallowed. "I'd give them everything because they looked at me and didn't see a fiend, but a father." His eyes grew watery again. "I owe them everything for that."
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Smau: in which you autocorrect their fave term of endearment to something else
Warnings: mostly crack, sexual language, cursing, not proofread
Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Ino, Shiu, Hiromi
Synopsis. His crime? Missing Valentine’s Day. His punishment? You’re banning him from between those pretty Iegs of yours.
How long he lasts? Well…
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, séx bans, puníshments, he misses Valentine’s Day, spoiIing, grovelling, WALK HIM LIKE A DOG, semi-pubIic (Toji’s), DlLF!Nanami, bouquets, they’re RUINED (without your p), p talking, cervíx smoochín, aphrodísiacs (Choso), true form!Sukuna, DP, spítting, chokíng, overstím, DÚMBlFICATlON, needy JJK men, GOJO’S POWERS, FÉRAL Gojo, use of cursed energy, he’s slightly insane, matíng presses, manhandIing, proposals creampíes, cúmfIation, cúmpIay, BRÉEDING, REACTIONS, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. The laaaaaaaaast of the Valentine’s Day parts heheheh <33
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 23rd FEB. at 9:56AM
“C’mon, mama.” What a sight to behold—speed-walking through the gym, with a 6’3 hunk that followed you like a lost puppy. His green eyes were permanently on you, scarred lips pulled into a semi-grin that screamed anything but apologetic.
If this was anyone else, then you’d have signalled security.
But this was Toji Fushiguro - and Toji Fushiguro was never the type to admit when he was sorry. And yet…he admits that, this time, the fault lies solely with him.
After all, he did accidentally miss Valentine’s Day for some gig Shiu had given him…
Toji gruffs, staring down those losers that followed you with their eyes. “What do I need to do to make it right, girl?” He bets they couldn’t even bench as much as him. “Do you want more flowers? Do you want me to beg? Because I will beg.”
“I know. You’re forgiven.”
He perks up, “So am I still banned from fu-”
“Yes.”
Damn…
You’re turning around to look at him- and the utterly crestfallen look on Toji’s face makes you giggle.
All of this might just be punishment for his forgetfulness, but you can’t deny that it sent a special zap of thrill down your spine to be the one making the Toji Fushiguro desperate like this.
Sauve. Cool. Collected.
Not even in the middle of his most impossible targets did he ever break a sweat- and yet, just your contemplative hum makes his breath hitch. Finger on your chin, wondering whether he deserved to have the sex ban taken off…or whether you wanted to make him grovel a little more.
His dark brows furrow, the tips of Toji’s ears burning. “The hell are ya laughing at?”
“Oh, nothing.” You’re humming, making your way over to the usual treadmills. “I’ll see you after the workout~”
“Huh? Wait-” He watches you leave. “What do you mean we’re working out separately now- wait—”
But alas, it was too late.
And you’re left with a fuming Toji Fushiguro. The gym floor quakes a little as he immediately storms over to the weight-lifting section, bench pressing just about double his personal max in less than ten minutes.
And it was a challenge. Arms straining on the metal pole, veins popping out in his neck. They cascaded down the expanse of his chiselled chest, dipping even lower down where his tank top drenches in sweat, even lower…His sweat seeped through his skin-tight top- leaving a glistening sheen across those biceps. You swear they looked about the size of your head when pumped like this.
Toji’s expression was almost erotic - dark brows furrowed, skin slightly flushed. His features seemed locked between something of a scowl and a sweet pleasure.
Sweet, sweet pleasure.
You’re watching him through the mirrors covering the walls- and it seemed that you weren’t the only one. People couldn’t tear their eyes off of Toji.
Some of the older women. Some of the personal trainers.
Even a few couples- yes, both of them.
And it makes something in you…bubbles. Something at the pit of your stomach that you don’t quite know how to name- but sour, sour realization floods you just as soon as you’re taking in the gaggle of college students. They were ogling Toji - as most were - yet the only difference remained in the fact that they were pushing one of the girls towards him. Phone in hand.
No doubt to ask for his phone number.
And that’s when you’re stopping your machine.
Heading over to your boyfriend in an instant—you reach him just as soon as he’s setting his loaded barbell on the rack. Breath ragged. Chest heaving. Without thinking much of it, he’s tugging on the hemline of his tank top n’ wiping the sweat off of his face - revealing such defined abs that it makes your own mouth water.
He sure was a sight to see- but that didn’t mean that just anyone could gawk at him.
And just because you imposed a sex ban, doesn’t mean that anyone could try and swoop in…
Toji’s green eyes flicker over to you instantly- “Eh? Come to tease me again-”
“I need to talk to you—” And without a second wasted, you’re holding onto one of Toji’s large wrists. Tugging him to his feet, you can’t help the pointed inflection in your voice as you continue- “-babe.”
The giggling group silences.
In just a few minutes- you have your feet headed towards the empty locker rooms, your hands pushing Toji into the nearest stall you find. He’s letting such a sleazy smirk cover his face as he lets himself be fucking pushed inside—
Before the shower turns on and suddenly you’re being fucked against the blue-and-white tile.
Your back against the wall. His roverin’ cockhead pounding into you at such a frenzied pace. Feverish. Furious.
Almost angry with your pussy for not lettin’ him feel you sooner.
He was just so biiiig and blushing that Toji manages to hit every spot- without even trying, he has you crying and mewling into his arms. Pushing in just long thrusts—“Fuck.” Toji whispers, hoarse tone barely audible over the rushing of the water. “Fuuuuuck, how I missed my pretty girl.”
You throw your arms around his shoulders. “M-missed you, too.” He was ruttin’ into you so hard that the heels of your feet were being cleanly lifted off of the tiled floors - and Toji himself was holding you up. With just a single hand on your waist.
One more between your legs n’ flicking your clit fervently—
Such a sinful grin spreads across Toji’s face. “Oh? Really?” Before the digits upon your clit start thumbing between your pussylips n’ spreading them all wiiiiiide open. Further and further open. He takes a gooood, long look at your drivelling hole—“Because I was talking about this pretty pussy right here.”
Your jaw drops.
“I-I—” Head dizzying with how fast he’s pinpointing every tiny spot with his tip. Hittin’ even the most hidden of crannies with his accurate, split-ended crown - over and over. Upturning those walls of yours and finding even more that you knew only he could reach—“I meant-” Fucking you from the flared tip of his shaft and down, down, dooooown to the girth of his base—decorated with so many curls of black that scraaatch at your core. “I mean…ngh, fuck.”
“My pussy-” He echoes out. “M-my pussy…” And Toji Fushiguro had the audacity to cock his head, his shaggy black bangs swaying. “What were you talking about, mama?”
Enough to leave you speechless- and to leave him grinning at his success. “That’s not the answer to that question, girl.”
“I know, but-”
“There are no buts.” Toji scoffs, rolling his verdant eyes.
And before you know it, he’s scooping you up into his arms- feet off the floor, ankles knotting around his waist. Toji pulls away from the tile then - who the hell said he needed the support of some damn wall to hold his pretty girl up? He’s merely tuggin’ you to him like a koala, stuck against his chiselled front—pounding up even harder n’ haaaaarder. Dragging his thick, vein-covered cock even loooonger down your channel.
“Sh-shit—” Throwing your head back. Gravity is making you slip n’ slide down Toji’s incredible body, your front pressing up against his abs. All you can really do is hold onto dear life.
You claw your fingers down his buff shoulders - hard enough to draw blood - and Toji merely fucking chuckles. “Toji, it feels so good—”
“I know.” He answers cockily- before craning his head down and aiming a dollop of spittle between your legs. Strikin’ your pussy dead-on. Even though he didn’t really need it - the water n’ your slickness was enough to let Toji pummel in at such a raaaapid pace. He just liked to see how you’re squirming at the sensation, “And who wanted a fucking- sex ban, again?”
The water rushed down his hair and obscured his sight- and whatever you could see from between his long black bangs was just…fuck. The sheer feral need in his eyes made you shiver. “It was m-”
“Oh, wait.” Toji hums in wonderment. Eyes settling down on you, as if just seeing you for the first time. “Do you know who it was? It was you—wasn’t it, mama?”
“Y-yes-”
“Oh yeah? Thought you could go without my cock for that long, did ya?” Toji snickers, pinching your clit. It’s hard enough to make you bounce n’ buck your treacly cunt back down his shaft— “Heh—look at ya. Didn’t even last three weeks- hah, honestly. Have some more discipline, girl.”
“You’re telling me to have more discipline.” You gasp. “And who forgot Valentine’s Day-”
“Eeeeeasy there, mama.” He trundles out. Voice low. Almost dangerous. Another pinch on your clit- “Don’t make me put you under a sex ban.”
Your lips part, “You wouldn’t…”
“I would.”
His globular tip swipes down your cervix, leaving what feels to be a permanent mark. Slides of his gooey precum—“And now…” Toji leans in to whisper his next few words in your ear, scorching hot pants against the cool water. “-you’re gonna cum.”
Shivers run down your spine.
Toji continues in his guttural tone. “You’re gonna cum around my cock, and when you do you’re gonna scream so loud that it’ll alert the gym.” Already hearing the grin in his words- “And then m’gonna cum inside you. You won’t wash it out until we get home - you’re gonna walk out there with my cum dripping down your legs.” Toji leaves a final piiiinch on your clit. “And after this, you’re never puttin’ me under one of those damn bans ever again. Understood?”
“U-understood.”
“Good girl.”
.
.
.
By the time he’s finished with you - way, waaaaay past your allotted time - you’re adjusting your uncomfortable leggings before going out. Feeling the sploshin’ of Toji’s gooey white cum inside of you, it’s a damn quest to try and walk properly.
And Toji doesn’t even try to leave the locker room at different times in order to avoid suspicion. He’s sauntering out proudly and throwing an arm over your shoulders, tugging you to his side.
Giving the most shit-eating grin at those other bastards that stare at him in envy.
You wonder out loud how you’re not banned from that gym yet.
Toji takes that as a challenge.
♡ NANAMI KENTO - 18th FEB. at 7:46PM
“Papa, you forgot something!” Itadori Yuji squeaks out as he’s walking up the daycare steps. Spider-Man back-pack tightened with four different straps around his chubby body, his light-up shoes illuminating every step of the way.
Everyone knew when Yuji arrived at his classroom—the students because of his totally awesome shoes, the parents because of…his father.
Nanami Kento stood tall, stoic and composed as the sea of parents dropping off their kids parted for him. Blond hair slicked back immaculately. Glasses sharp and polished.
His silhouette drew eyes - whether one was conscious of it or not - though his own merely settled down upon his son. Crinkling slightly in concern, “Forget? Did you forget your lunchbox again, Yuji?”
The pink-haired boy shakes his head.
The older man hums, “Then did you forget your extra clothes?”
He shakes his head.
“Your football?”
He shakes his head.
“My goodbye hug?”
“No, papa—” And honestly, Nanami had no idea that a four-year-old could sound so exasperated with someone else. Yuji sighs and shakes his head in a way the man knew he picked up from him- “You forgot it’s Valentine’s Day!”
Oh.
Nanami’s lips part, and he sweeps a glance around the classroom corridors - looking as if love threw up inside it. Pink fairy lights and streamers. Heart-shaped designs. So there was a reason everything seemed a little…brighter than usual today, and- wait.
Wait, that explained the special heart-shaped pancakes you’d made for him. The twinkle in your eye. The rather lengthy pawing n’ kissing in the privacy of your bedroom.
Oh.
He intakes a sharp breath, “I didn’t wish my love—” Nanami looks at his pink-haired little traitor. “Why didn’t you tell me, sunshine? I should’ve wished your momma as soon as the sun rose- oh, and I need to buy roses. Then the gifts—wait, didn’t she say she wanted-”
“Papa…”
Nanami snaps out of it immediately- then straight into something new. “Did your momma seem mad, Yuji?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, “Momma told me not to tell you.”
Oh, you were definitely mad…
“She also said she was gonna teach you a lesson when you get home- it was funny.”
Oh.
The boy shuffles. “Papa, can I go now?”
.
.
.
Lo and behold, that was how Nanami Kento found himself suffering under…a sex ban. Ever since the 14th of February, you’d forbidden your handsome husband from touching you, fucking you, making you cum—even kisses were chaste.
And though you had to admit that your stoic husband kept it together quite well, you say the way his tie got just a little looser n’ looser every day.
The way he’d linger his eyes on you too long. The way he’d take a longer time during showers.
No doubt fucking his fist to the thought of you.
And…you’re almost embarrassed to admit it, but it takes just four days for you to get impatient.
Yes, you.
Ogling how his toned body would fill out those button-ups of his, how he only seemed to be getting more handsome by the day.
Nanami had taken up a tradition of buying you a bouquet every single day to make up for Valentine’s Day - and it’s the night of the 18th when you finally just snap-
“F-fuck—ngh.” Just dragging him to your shared bedroom and sitting him down on the bed- you just barely tug off his tight work pants. Just enough to take his thick tip out. Bracing yourself before bouncin’ your hips down and taking his girthy tip in whole-
Your back arches, toes curling.
The most lecherous whine leaves you—almost as lecherous as the sloppy sluuurp! of his honed cockhead pressing between your pussylips. Such an incredible carnal stretch that you’ve missed so much, “Fuck, it feels so good.” You gasp. “I’ve missed you s’much.”
“Shiiiit—” His bouquet drops from his hands. Red rose petals on the carpeted floor now- Nanami’s deep voice had taken on a breathy lilt, “Shit, momma-”
“I’m s-still mad at you.” You’re huffing down at him. “But my- ngh, pussy’s missed you soooo much—”
“I know, darling. I know.” His forehead lines with a trickle of sweat. Nanami’s eyes fall half-lidded as he feels himself get swallowed up deeper n’ deeeeper inside you.
With the most damp sluuuuurping noises. Just so cute - it’s like you were gobbling him up.
Two of his hands clasp at your unsteady ankles, bending them to his will ‘round his toned waist. Before you can say anything in response, he uses the leverage to fuck a good strike at your core. All the way from tip to hilt. And as you’re shrilling out, he murmurs. “This fat fuckin’ cock missed your pussy, too.”
“R-really?” Though you don’t even need to ask - you could feel the way his bulbous tip throb-throb-throbbed all the way deeply inside you.
Nanami’s blond hair shuffles as he nods. “Missed you sooooo fucking much-” Almost too dirty to fall from the gentleman’s mouth. “Feel how much harder I am—?” Dragging his vein-decorated shaft aaaaaall down your sopping wet walls, pushing them apart. “Feel how much- fuck, bigger m’getting?” The way each pulsation only seemed to make him swell, his round flared tip growing even wider. It’s the perfect structure to scrape every sweet spot- and Nanami knew just where his wife’s favorite areas were. “Feel how hungry I am for you?”
You gape, “Hungry?”
And when he responds, there’s something utterly shattered in his tone. “Yes—” Breath gusting out in a scorching breeze- pants damp, canines pricking at your neck. Your husband sinks his teeth into that tender skin at your throat, “Fucking famished for this pussy.”
And he’s fucking you just like it, too.
Pourin’ out wads of pre into every nook n’ crevice. Twitching his bulbous cockhead against even the tiniest of nerves inside- he jerks his hips up a mile a minute. Utterly pounding into the back of your pussy—
Until it was nothing but a gooey, battered mess. Slick with all the translucent sap he was emptying out-
“Missed you so much.” He husks out against your clammy skin. Holding you tighter n’ tighter to his sculptured pecs, the more he’s honing out direct thwacks! inside you. Just four days without this perfect pussy and he’s a man gone. “Missed you- fuck, missed you so much—”
“B-but you always seemed unbothered.” Huffin’ down at him, your lips twist into a pretty pout- one that he’s reaching up and biting. “I thought it was just me that- ngh, missed you like this.”
“Oh, my love.” The sheer force of his thrusts was enough that you find yourself clawing onto his broad shoulders. To help you balance, Nanami loops his strong forearms around the small of your back- tugging you to him. “I thought about this pussy every single day that I didn’t have her.”
And that’s not all…as if to prove his point, the blond-haired man reaches down one hand and tugs on your perked clit—
It was just swollen and throbbing for attention- and he gives it all that you wanted. Rolling the calloused pad of his thumb right over it, up and down. Long swipes. Slight circles. Edging the tip of it between your wet crevice- in just a few seconds, you swear you’re starting to feel Nanami write out things on top of your overstimulated nub.
What you swear were swirls and loops.
And you recognized Nanami Kento’s handwriting- hell, you’d been married to the guy for years now! That neat, slanted script. So it doesn’t take you long - not until he punctuates a slight puuuuush that you assumed to be a dot - that it hits you like four semi-trucks at once.
Nanami was writing out ‘missed you’ on top of your cunt.
Over and over again.
So many times that you’re starting to feel a bit raw with pleasure.
You cling onto him for dear life, “And what did you think about?"
“What?” He breathes, brain too muddled.
Your delayed response. “And what did you think about- ngh, Kento?”
Nanami throws his head back and lets out a faint, grumbling whimper as you’re clenching around him - just as gone as you. These few days had rendered him extra, eeextra sensitive to even the slightest twitches and sensations of your cunt. He whispers out an answer that you can’t hear.
“What was that, baby?” Fluttering your lashes at him, leaning in close.
A slight channel of slick n’ precum escapes from your wettened hole- and makes his breath hitch. He repeats.
“What was—”
He repeats it.
And this time, he’s pummelin’ straight into the veeeeery bottom of your gummy pussy with it. Swiping out his spot there-
“I thought about getting you pregnant.”
And Nanami’s fucking you like he’d rather die than not have you all round n’ glowing - plump with his child - by next Valentine’s Day. If he could get you pregnant tonight itself and make you a family of four by then—then that’s even better.
A stripe of his gooey white cum- “Let me make up for these four days, my love?”
.
.
.
Next Valentine’s Day, it’s the three of you that are dropping off Yuji at school- you, your husband, and your baby. Just a few months old but already matching the energy of her older brother.
Yuji skips up to the steps - just a year more and he’ll be in first grade already. How time passes.
He announces in that bright voice of his, “You didn’t forget Valentine’s Day this year, papa.”
Nanami slightly blushes at the attention of the other parents around you two - at him, at you, at Yuji’s voice, and at the presence of your cute lil’ daughter. They looked torn between coming up to congratulate the two of you, and keeping their distance from a baby so young—Nanami was known to be a private man, after all. If it hadn’t been for Yuji’s excited announcements, the daycare might not have ever known of the newest addition to your family.
His hair. Your eyes.
“That’s right, sunshine.” Nanami pats Yuji’s head of pink hair, “I won’t be forgetting any time soon.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - 3rd MARCH at 11:03PM
You weren’t going to last.
That’s right—you weren’t going to last.
That sex ban had been set on the 14th of February, once Geto Suguru - your ever-handsome leader of the Time Vessel Association - had deemed that his favorite little association member hadn’t…celebrated Valentine’s Day quite to his standards.
Though you had no idea what he was talking about- you’d planned everything out perfectly.
You’d spoiled him with a jasmine bouquet, he’d spoiled you with even more red roses.
You’d spoiled him with his favorite traditional Japanese breakfast, he’d spoiled you with your favorite (courtesy of the chefs in the Association, of course).
You’d wanted to ride him silly- he’d wanted to fuck you pregnant. See, that’s where the little miscommunication seemed to have happened - if you can even call it that. Because in the end you’d been pummeled with his thick, veiny cock—for but a total of two rounds before you’d exhausted yourself to sleep in his arms (it’d been a long day of planning, alright?)
But the thing is, Geto Suguru hadn’t wanted to go two rounds.
Geto Suguru had wanted to go…all night.
And you never fall asleep before the revered leader. Never. Was his cock really that boring to you? Did this even count as celebrating Valentine’s Day at all, then?
Geto Suguru was a ruthless ruler.
It was considered that you missed Valentine’s Day- yes, you missed it.
Thus, you were henceforth and until further notice- banned from having sex with the esteemed leader until you improved your stamina. Which was quite the unfair match-up - Geto had training in martial arts, in cursed energy, in reverse cursed energy. How were you supposed to compare?
He was fucking mean.
And to be quite honest, a part of you had the nagging feeling that Geto was simply riling you up for the fun of it…and you wouldn’t be surprised.
Which is why when you’d sucked up your pride n’ finally asked him to fuck you by March—he’d merely raised a dark brow. Sharp. Scouring. “And have you finally fixed that pitiful stamina of yours?” He’s spitting, “I do not wish to be insulted once more…”
“I h-have.” You’d claimed- alright so maybe you hadn’t worked on your stamina just like he’d said. But who was Geto Suguru to know?
His brow raises even higher.
He knew. He definitely, definitely knew.
But to your utter surprise- Geto is tugging on the dark fabric of his robes. Beckoning you with a single look over to his futon, “Alright.” Clipped and chilling. “But I hope you know that I am not a merciful man, gorgeous.”
You’d never scrambled over to him faster.
Because when Geto Suguru fucked you- he fucked you.
Just like he hated you. In no time, he had your jittery legs on his shoulders n’ his rounded cockhead pushing between your pussylips. Just stretch-stretch-streeeetching out the first rim of your entrance before draggin’ away down that tight channel.
The long-haired man tugs open all those cute lil’ crannies that you’ve missed being stimulated. Your back arching off of the ancient tatami as he folded you sooooo deep in half—ass cheeks barely touching the floor in this ruthless mating press he had you in.
Cock hitting the back of your pussy for hours. And hours.
And hours and hours.
“P-please—” You warble out in your shattered tone, head throwing backwards. It’s hitting the surface behind you with a dull thud- and Geto merely huffs out a chuckle.
He raises his left hand - and for a second, you think he might just use it to cushion the back of your head. But instead…Geto uses it to clasp onto your poor, perspired neck and shoves you deeper against the floor-
“Don’t make me put ya into a headlock before you hurt yourself.” He snickers out, something animalistically breathy in his tone. Those thick fingertips of his squeeze either side of your neck- swervin’ his luscious tip inside even faster. “Because just know—”
And the hairs on the back of your neck raise once Geto Suguru leans into whisper.
“-that when I say all night long…” And for the nth time tonight, his slick n’ mazing tip drives you straight into your high. “-I mean all night long.”
“A-all night…” Your mouth hopelessly babbles.
Spit drivels down either side of your mouth—and Geto wastes no time before leaning down and lickin’ them away. “Keep it clean, gorgeous.” He murmurs against your lips, “M’gonna make a mess of you- hah, anyway the next time I cum inside. Again.”
His sweetened sap was already sploshin’ away inside of you- and even the tiniest jolts of his tip made him stir you from the inside. You drag a hand down your bloated-feeling front and whine, “Again?”
“Yes?” Geto asks, “Something the…matter—?”
And whatever your answer had been, it’s getting fucked back down your throat with his bludgeoning cock. Frenzied. Fast. Ferocious in the way he was claiming every single inch of space inside you. Nothing but a pinkish blur between those poor legs of yours- and you might not realize it in this state, but Geto himself had missed you.
How he’d missed the feeling of this velvety pussy. The way you’d open up just for him n’ seemed to mold your channel to his girth- and he was rather girthy, if he did say so himself. The way you’d clench ‘round him at even the tiniest sparks of pleasure-
And right now it’s as if you were holding him hostage.
Making him rut his hips wetly into yours - slick n’ cum spraaaying out of your hole and creating a mess in-between - again and again and again—
He tightens his restraint on your neck until you’re seeing stars- veins popping out from his hand. “Something-” Each word was punctuated by the most thorough gash of his swollen shaft, thudding against your gooey cervix. “-the- matter- gorgeous?”
“N-nothing—!” You babble out. “Nothing at all-”
“Then why’s this pretty pussy trying to- mmm, run away from me, hm?” He’s humming.
And you snap your head down- it’s just then that you’re registering the ministrations of your hips. The way you lurch back just a bit when he’s hitting a spot just right, feet planted flatly on the mattress.
You bounced and swerved - almost as if you weren’t sure whether you wanted to run away or fuck back down for more, more, more. For the feeling of his smooth slippery tip reaching into your deepest depths- fuck, you’d almost forgotten how much he stretched you out.
And Geto doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s running you straight into another orgasm. And another.
“What? Can’t handle it?” Fingernails digging into your soft skin by now. “Can’t handle it?” His balls were still big n’ heavy with so many wads of cum yearning to be inside you- “Can’t handle it? Can’t handle it—? Speak up.”
“I can.” Gasping out in your botched tone. “I can- I can—”
“Then what?”
“It’s just-”
“I knew it.”
But that was a test, you see.
He didn’t want to know the answer - for now. He just wanted to know if you could match all the claims you uttered- if you could take him all night long like he’d promised.
Dawn wasn’t even close to breaking.
Your drenched cunt quivers. His own cock dribblin’ out a clingy line of slick—“I already toooooold you.” He replaces the hand on your stomach with his own, right palm cascading down the front. Geto pushes down on that cute lil’ bump he was fucking into you, “First, you miss Valentine’s Day-”
“But I didn’t-”
“Then you lie to me about improving your stamina-”
“Well…”
“If you can’t handle it, then don’t fuck me—”
“B-but-”
Shutting you up with a looong swab right near your throat. “Because how else m’I going to get you pregnant, gorgeous?”
And as you’re struggling to get out a single coherent sentence, Geto sighs. Dramatic.
“And here I thought you’d finally match my freak-” Something he’d learned from an audio Larue had been listening to, something he found quite amusing himself. “Here I thought you’d match my stamina-” He was probin’ his long shaft into the door to your womb. “Here I thought we’d finally get you pregnant for next year—”
“Y-you still can-” You whisper.
He leans in. “What was that?”
“You still- hck! can.” Increasing the volume of your tone, and it makes Geto’s pretty amethyst eyes widen. “Promise you still can. It’s still March.”
Geto hums in interest, “And about that concern you had before then…?”
“I was just worried…” Splaying out your hand on top of his- on top of your stomach. Slightly bloated with the sheer amount of gooey, glittering was struck to your walls—the slightest push is enough to make you trickle out between your legs. “-that it might not fit, Suguru.”
And something in him seems to twitch.
His cock seems to jolt—
You’re being fucked even deeper into your mating press before you know it. With Geto’s roverin’ cockhead flooding your bruised, battered insides in his syrupy sap - it leaves a carnal part of you feeling so satisfied.
The way he rests his weight on your lower half to stop you from moving around too much.
“Oh, gorgeous…” Breathless. “I’ll just make it fit.”
.
.
.
It’s the very next day - even without formal confirmation - that Geto Suguru announces to his association the imminent birth of his heir.
You find that announcement to come true soon enough.
♡ CHOSO KAMO - 14th FEB. at 9:12PM
To be quite honest, Choso Kamo didn’t know that there was a human…culture surrounding this date. He’d never heard of it before.
Imagine the half-curse’s surprise when he wakes up one day and the world seemed to be drenched in pink and red. Why were there hearts plastered upon every shop window he saw? Why did the population of couples somehow seem to double? Why did strangers insist upon trying to hand him chocolates as he walked down the street?
Wondering whether his last blood manipulation technique had left him feeling light-headed, Choso knew to seek the smartest person he knew for answers - you.
His beloved human girlfriend.
And when you’d given him a brief run-down of the semi-holiday—well, Choso Kamo was in tears. Why? Well, because no one told him that he’d just missed a perfectly fine opportunity to spoil you, of course!
All those candy shops he passed, all those plushie stores he ignored…
You’re telling him that he should’ve just dropped everything he was doing and bought out the whole store?! (No, you were not telling him that—but Choso was certainly thinking it). And he believed it, too.
Which is why - as the self-dubbed Worst Boyfriend in The World - Choso demanded that you punish him with a sex ban. And when you’d refused, he’d punished himself with a sex ban.
“I-I don’t deserve it, baby.” He’d wrapped his arms around himself and turned away, as if the mere sight of you in your pajamas was enough to tempt him into breaking his ban. “I can’t even look at myself in the mirror after not knowing such a thing-”
“Choso, baby.” You’d interrupted him. “Shut up.”
He’d grown hard in his pants at that.
The first hour, it had been…do-able. Choso was still alive, he felt like he was still alive.
And his cock had remained behaved in his pants.
Three hours in and he was…shattering slightly at the edges. He’d disappeared into your underwear drawer when you weren’t looking- stealing one of your prettiest scraps of lace and fucking his first raw using it.
That had bated him.
At least until the fifth hour, when you’d asked to cuddle in bed.
And Choso felt his cock jolt just a little in his pants- eagerly agreeing. Tightening. Though you should’ve known that something was off when he’d asked to be the big spoon this time (Choso Kamo was never the big spoon), but you didn’t think much of it…
Then had come the seventh hour—two hours into cuddling you. Two hours into having his raging hard erection pressed up against your ass- and he thought he was going a little insane.
He needed to distract himself- he needed to think of something else.
Anything.
And it’s then that those unfortunate pretty eyes of his had fallen upon the small wrapper upon your bedside cabinet. The small slab of sweetness.
The small piece of chocolate.
Without thinking much of it, Choso had reached out and torn it open - fingers jittery to do something. He’s popping both halves into his mouth.
“Wait-” You’re catching his action—only too late. “Cho, baby, that’s-”
But it was too late. He’d started feeling hot all over. Feverish. “Baby—what is this-”
“Aphrodisiac chocolate.” Sighing. “I’d bought it for us today - yes, one half for each - but since you put on that sex ban…”
It’s all the explanation that he fucking needs before he’s tearin’ at your poor pajama shorts. Furious. Feral. Before he’s leaving them in shatters- and leaving you with your voice lost in your throat, Choso’s angry red tip swivelling inside.
Just so wet with pre and rock-hard.
His sex ban had lasted seven hours.
The ridge of his cockhead was flared so widely, scrapin’ against all those tender spots inside you. It’s a lecherous sensation - enough to make you clench, enough to make you hold Choso’s fat cock hostage. Drool wettens Choso’s lips as you clench—“S-sex ban?”
Did that sound like a question?
Because your poor boyfriend’s tone was wavering almost comically upwards towards the end- ruined. He punctuates it not with a question mark, but with a solid sopping thrust inwards. Shovelling just a few more of his inches in-
“Yes?” You pant out. It already feels as though he was pumping against the corner of your lungs. “Baby, wasn’t that what you said- oh.”
Yet another smooooch of his lengthy cock- it drives inside and presses on a tender spot you particularly like. “Sex ban?” Choso repeats. There’s an almost urgent look in his eyes, glazed and glittering with dark need. “No—”
And then he’s shaking his head fervently- for a mere few seconds before he glues his split-ended tip to the roof of your cunt. Bottoming-out.
He collapses his muscular body onto you and pants-
“No, no.” Hips stuttering, though that doesn’t stop him from drilling into you like a maddened man. Lecherous, long strikes of his cock. “No, that can’t be—I’d never ban myself from something as h-heavenly as this pussy…”
“But you-” You’re starting to refute him.
Only for Choso to pump out a few direct hits to your cervix—groaning. “Because l-look how pretty she is takin’ my big cock.” He whispers, marveling at the way you clung onto him. Your sopping wet walls were lacquered in a good gleam of his precum, so tight that he almost thinks he wouldn’t fit- but you always do manage to surprise him. “Look how goooood she feels wrapped ‘round me- my pretty pussy.”
And then he’s fucking and fucking into you-
At an irregular pace - sloppy and staccato. It’s almost as if he couldn’t control just when and how his hips were moving, merely chasing that carnal instinct within him. That little voice that told him to bruise his achin’ hot cockhead at the base of your cunt, and then push n’ push n’ puuuuush as deep as it could go.
If he wasn’t knockin’ at your womb, then each thrust wasn’t worth it.
“Look how—” Head dipping into the crook of your neck, those clammy brown strands of his hair stick to your skin. He was blushin’ and shaking all over- “Look how good she ngh- feels when she’s being fucked by me? She’s been waiting for my cock all this time, riiiight?”
You’re unable to answer, merely twitching as Choso runs a finger down your slit. Pressing perfectly on the button of your clit.
“Of course, she is. Look how wet she is f’me—h-how could I ever deny her?” Baritone taking a shaky degree, wetness pouring out of him in waves and splatters. “Look how much she wants to- ngh.”
And it’s then that Choso’s ruddied tip twitches daaaangerously.
You knew that your beloved boyfriend was the sensitive type- but to this extent? It’s almost as if being away from your pussy (for a few hours, yes, but even that was torture for Choso Kamo) had rendered him more sensitive than ever.
More susceptible to getting pussydrunk.
More susceptible to getting addicted to the slippery clench of your cunt. Those pretty walls that opened up for him—straight down to your even prettier womb.
He rubs the sides of his shaft rawly against your walls and whimpers- “L-look how much she wants to be filled up with my cum.”
And it’s then and there that Choso is talking himself into an orgasm. The textured sensations of your cunt. The wetness of your constant sap. The way you were looking up at him with teary eyes- his sheer length almost too much for you to handle.
And this was too much for him to handle.
Choso merely reels his hips back a bit- before pummeling deepest into your depths and pourin’ out his cum with such a squeeeelch! A lecherous sound. The sound of his dewy wads of seed emptying out at the bottom of your pussy, filling you up from the inside out-
He’s throwing his body forwards and crushing you to him. “Baby, m’never gonna think of a sex ban ever again—” Murmuring wetly into your skin. You swear he was almost in tears- “Never. M’sorry, but I just don’t think I can handle it.”
“You really didn’t have to, Cho—” You reassure him.
And at that, he slips out just a few more beads of ivory cum. “N-ngh, don’t say that unless you want me to cum again.”
“Maybe I do.” Cocking your head up at the pretty boy- “That aphrodisiac is said to last five hours, after all.”
He shivers.
You throw your arms around his sweaty neck and pull him closer. “And it is still Valentine’s Day. Why don’t you make it up to me like this, Cho?”
He does end up cumming again.
.
.
.
The next day, Choso Kamo ends up buying out all the nearest candy shops and plushie stores. Some of them being delivered later on in the day, some of them being carried in dozens upon dozens of bags upon his two hands - not that he minds. He’d carry anything for you. To you.
After all, it’s not like you’ll be walking for about the next week…
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 1st MARCH at 1:23PM
“Cheh—and it’s not like I’m upset about it, or anything!” The King’s fervent denials make the walls of the throne room trundle - almost as loud as Ryomen Sukuna’s voice, were his blatant lies.
And yet, Uraume has long since learned to keep their mouth shut during times like this.
They sit poised before Sukuna, head bowed and expression of something contemplative. He might have four eyes, but he’ll never be able to tell how his right-hand follower was on the verge of laughter. Of tears from the sheer amount of laughter.
They might have to take a leave of absence after this.
And Sukuna - never the less oblivious - slams all four fists down on the armrest of his throne. Echoing in a hollow voice, “I just fail to understand why my…most tolerable human has refused to copulate with me these days. Although, even that should be understandable- if she wishes not to, then she wishes not to. I can understand that. But my question is why as of the 14th of the last moon cycle-” He sits upright in his seat, seething. “-she pretends that I do not even exist! Me—the King—!”
Uraume manages to disguise a laugh as a cough. “The 14th of the previous moon cycle, you say, Your Majesty?”
“Hm?” He grunts. “And what of it?”
“Well, then perhaps you should know that you missed a day that is quite important, Your Majesty.” They lightly sip their tea as the King’s interest piques- “In certain cultures, the 14th of the year’s second month is celebrated as the day of love. To express one’s affection for their lover, their family, and their friends.”
The King stays quiet.
Uraume finishes their tea. “Tell me, Your Majesty—had you gifted your lover anything on the 14th?”
He sputters, “I-I—well, not quite but-”
“Did you wish prosperity upon her on the 14th?”
“No, but-”
“Did you act in a manner deemed nicer than your…usual demeanour?”
“No-”
“Nothing at all?”
“No.” Sukuna runs two hands down his rugged face, “Heavens…”
.
.
.
And it doesn’t take long for Ryomen Sukuna - over three weeks late - to finally shower you with gifts. Lavish, as a King should provide for his Queen.
In the most expensive silks in this land and the next few, too. In the most intricate little trinkets that he knew you’d love. In the most gorgeous jade twinkling in the moonlight. In the most sweet-smelling perfumes. The most sweet-tasting candies.
Everything and anything.
Though he personally believes that nothing could taste as sweet as you.
And he shall have a word or two later with you- something about telling him directly whenever you wanted something of him. But right now, he was faaar too busy sprawling you out flatly on your bed. Pressing two hands into the smooth mattress beside your head, as two of his swervin’ cockheads fucked you dizzy—
He was fucking that pout right off your lips.
“S’this pussy still furious?” Sukuna coos down mockingly at you- both sets of his lips twisting into the meanest grin.
As you struggled to get out the words - past those thick, bludgeoning shafts - he merely leans down. Fluttering those pinkish lashes at you, Sukuna’s second mouth opens up wiiiiiiide—licking up the crevice of your pussy. “S’this pussy still angry at me for forgetting ah- Valentine’s Day? I don’t think sooo—”
And almost on cue, you’re sputterin’ out in a gooey mess of slick. It travels down your legs and gets lapped up by Sukuna’s monstrous tastebuds- “M-maybe I still am.”
He hums from the primal depths of his chest. “I know you are, woman.” Those crimson irises of his roll, a scoff scorching down your features. “But what about this pussy—”
You tighten your legs around his waist, “Sh-she is, too-”
“I beg to differ.” And just then, Sukuna spanks—! one hand down upon your throbbing clit. His other two hands clutch your ankles to throw you off balance- to stop you from bucking. His sleazy grin only seems to grow as he watches the thiiiiick sheen of slick at your inner thighs. “See? She loves me.”
“She’s mad at you-”
A hit at your gummy cervix—two. “She loves me-”
“She-”
And then snaking right down to your g-spot—you’re feeling both of his rugged, rounded tips massage your sweetest spot. He doesn’t even properly thrust for a few moments- the King ruts his hips back n’ forth. “See—?” Aiming to bruise his rock-hard lengths against the sides of your walls - your nerves - making you feel him from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. “She fuckin’ loves me~”
You don’t get to contradict what he’s saying.
You don’t even get to try- because at that very second, you’re throwing your head back and cumming. Unable to control the lightning bolts of white-hot pleasure that run down your spine—sensations of his rounded tips driving you wild.
Pummeling.
Shovelling in and out. In and out.
Probin’ against the areas you were most sensitive, emptying out wads of precum in sinful splats. “Th-that’s just not fair…” Voice hatching into the prettiest whines in your throat- it’s just what makes him arch his powerful hips and buck, buck, buck.
More. More. More.
Sukuna rests two hands underneath your spine n’ aaaarches you even more for him. Like this, it’s easy enough to see where the rounded bumps of his monstrous cocks were hitting your cervix. Thud-thud-thud. “Fuh-fuuuuuck, Kuna.” And at the very same time, his lecherous tongue sticks out and drags up and down your dripping wet slit. “Not fair- really not fair-”
“Not fair that this pussy likes me more than you?” He titters, “Now, that’s not fair t’me—”
“Oh, you-”
“Poor, poor Ryomen Sukuna.” He pretends to weep, to shake his head. “With no clue as to why his favorite human is ignoring him.”
“Shit-” He pumps a direct hit to your womb. Twitching there in warning.
“If it was gifts you’d wanted, then I could buy you this whole damn world-”
Your eyes widen, “The world?”
“Yes, the world.” Sukuna sounded dead serious. “Don’t be frugal, woman.” And you didn’t doubt that he didn’t have enough gold to do so- or at least give a damn valiant try. Sukuna digs his honed, blackened fingernails upon either side of your hips—cocks fucking you through your first high and straight into another. Another. Another. “Do you know how many nights we’ve lost together?”
It just feels so fucking gooood to have his furious, feverish tips pressing into every spot. You can only whine—
“Do you know how many times I could’ve cum inside this pussy until then?” Almost reminiscing as he fucks you, all those times he’s done so before. Will do so again. “Do you know how many times I’ve lost having that pretty pussy squeeze ‘round me when she cums- yes, you do that.”
Your breath hitches, “S-squeeze…?”
“Mhmm—” Ravenous red eyes narrowing down at you. There’s an almost feral grin upon his face- “Didn’t you know that? She squeezes around both cocks- like she wants to hold me back whilst she cums. Like she can’t- fuck, bear to leave.”
“Oh my god-” You gasp. Arching into his plush pecs.
And Sukuna is more than happy to let you do so - in fact, one of his hands lifts off of the bed to crush your face into his chest. Your mouth slobberin’ stupidly all over his pinkish nipples—his second mouth swabbin’ his tongue between your pussylips n’ fucking straight into your hole.
While he fucks you with two cocks. The stretch was just incredible.
The next time you reach your highs, you’re squirting.
“And you say this pussy doesn’t love me…”
.
.
.
The next morning, Uraume wakes up at the crack of dawn- as per their duties.
And they have to admit that last night…they didn’t obtain a satisfying rest. Forget eight hours of sleep, they’d have been lucky to get eight winks—no thanks to their King of Curses, of course. The constant pounding and rattling and rutting had echoed all throughout this wing of the Royal Estate.
And whenever Uraume had thought it had finally paused and perhaps their King had retired for the night- it would start right up again.
It must’ve been right before daybreak that they finally heard the last creeeeeak–! and groan of those ancient bedsprings.
And just like that…peace.
They’d closed their eyes for all but 1 minute and 34 seconds, of course. Uraume would know, they counted.
And they’re stomping right out of bed- genuinely reconsidering that leave of absence when—
A knock at their door.
Possibly one of the other attendants. Possibly some problem or the other that they had to address right away- honestly, give a person time to brush their teeth first!
But, no.
Not at all.
Instead, Uraume is met with no one at the door.
No person.
Nothing but a large wrapped-up gift box, the type that one can tell is expensive at first glance. Looking around the corridor provides no other person there with them - and they’re dropping down to their knees in an instant. Opening up the large lid-
Inside, are the most beautiful crisp white kimonos. And a note attached—
‘Thank you. - R.’
Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.
They still don’t get paid, though.
♡ INO TAKUMA - 15th FEB. at 2:48AM
Ino Takuma has fucked up.
Majorly.
First, he ended up spending waaaay longer than he should’ve on his latest mission report—who even needs to impress the higher-ups, anyway? Ino has this ongoing theory that they don’t even read those damn things…And yet again, that didn’t stop him from scrutinizing each and every word that slid across the page like slugs on salt.
And by the time he’d finally dotted his last full stop (a momentous occasion) and looked outside- tell him why the world looked dark?
The black-out curtain of night. He’d gasped then—
Brown eyes flickering immediately to the clock on the wall, one that had been tutting at him for the past few hours. Watching. Waiting.
It shifted its sharp, spindly hand to the next hour that struck.
12:00AM
Midnight.
Exactly four hours past when he was supposed to meet you for your Valentine’s date.
Shit.
Shit.
Ino checked his phone, and had never run faster in his entire life. Not even when he was being chased by a Special Grade curse.
And that wasn’t all- of course, that wasn’t all.
To make matters worse, he’d wanted you to have the most beautiful bouquet possible today - the brightest, the reddest, the freshest. And fearing that the air conditioning in Jujutsu High’s offices might make the flowers wilt, Ino had put off the gift for after he’d finished up his work. Who’d have thought that one might just prefer slightly-wilted flowers to banging on the door of a florist’s shop at 12AM? No chance.
Shiiiiiit.
From then on had been a sequence of banging on store doors to no avail, or scanning the emptied aisles of any Valentine-themed shop he set his eyes on.
His plundering and pillaging wasn’t fruitful - and it was 2:33AM by the time that Ino slipped quietly into your shared apartment. With the wholly bountiful loot of: a box of orange candy, a card, a set of matching journals, a turtle plushie that sang ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber, and a pathetic plastic rose he managed to fight some old lady over.
To be quite honest, he would have broken up with himself.
But alas—that is not quite yet possible. You’d been awake and understanding, however, worried that he’d been working himself to the bone over that new report.
You’d been so sweet - ushering him to get ready for bed, and telling him that it was just some commercial holiday. He knows that, but still…
Ino thinks he could cry a little (he does).
And as he gets into bed beside you, he’s promising himself that he won’t fuck you stupid like he’d wanted to on Valentine’s Day. “Ban me from your pussy.” Ino whispers.
You turn to him in confusion, “Excuse me?”
“Ban me from your pussy- I’m so serious.” He’s promising himself that he’s going to make it up to you first before even having such thoughts. “I can’t believe I missed fucking Valentine’s Day- ban me from your pussy. I don’t deserve her.” He’s promising himself that—that—
You hum, “Hmmm, you sure about that?”
And whatever promises he’s trying to fool himself into—they’re flying out the window as soon as you’re pressin’ your behind to his front. Your pretty ass against his cock. Teasing.
In what should be an innocent spooning position…but Ino traces a few fingers down your inner thighs. That’s when his brain short-circuits- as he registers that you were wearing his favorite pair of silky panties. Strappy. Crotchless.
You’re fucking evil.
Your boyfriend doesn’t even need to spread them aside- merely setting a hand underneath your right leg and perking it up. Just the barest few inches he needs to tug down his sweatpants n’ glue his ruddied tip to your core.
He’s hitting your pussy with a wet thwack! Meeting your pussylips in the sweetest kiss. Letting his slick precum slide-slide-sliiiiide vertical lines down your crevice. It dribbles down to your thighs, all wet and gooey.
And Ino isn’t lasting too long before he throws his head back and ruts—harsh and animalistic. The raw sensation of your hole was almost too much. He doesn’t even know where his lengthy shaft is going, honed cockhead probin’ between your pussylips and getting sandwiched by them. The cutest hot embrace that he’s held hostage by- he humps his way between your legs like a damn beast. Again. And again.
“Please-” He echoes a guttural whisper into your neck. Scorching hot breath wafting all over your features, crushing your limbs so tightly to him that it almost hurts. “Please, please, please—”
You’re amused at the slight crack in his tone. “Please what, baby?”
“Please…” Ino’s large chocolate eyes peer down at you. He’s craning his neck down and gnawing on your pretty lips. “Please, ma’am?”
“Not that, baby.” You hum. Pushing your hips further back into his- in no time, he was fucking you with the swollen reddened tip of his cock. He was thiiiick and honed at the very top, slipping inside easily and swabbin’ into the tiny geysering orifices of your cunt. “I j-just meant that you didn’t have to-”
“But I do have to beg.” Ino insists, lips wobbling as though he was on the verge of tears. “Ban me from your pussy. I didn’t manage to make it before Valentine’s Day and spoil you- oh.”
Just then, your velvety walls were clenchin’ around him. And it’s enough to make Ino’s hips stutter sideways, hitting the globes of your ass cheeks with a sudden spank. “Shit…” You swear at the stinging contact. Ino was now gripping either side of your hips n’ digging his rovering cockhead between your pussylips - in rapid, ruinous half-thrusts just to ease inside. “B-but it just—ngh, couldn’t be helped. Don’t beat yourself up, baby-”
“But you should beat me up.”
Lifting your head off the pillow and looking over your shoulder. In slight worry- “Taku—”
“Wait, sweetness-”
“Taku, do you want me to be mean to you?” And when he isn’t answering immediately, you rut up your hips into his prominent v-line. Just so toned, massaging your back- it marks whichever direction his globular cockhead was heading. Leeeeft and right. Baaaack and forth.
Shoving even deeper into your tight channel. And you can feel his blushing face pushing into your neck, fever-hot. “You’re such a naughty boy, aren’t you?”
He groans—loooong and drawn-out. “Sh-shush, pretty. I didn’t mean it like…” But his train of thought trails off - just as much as yours does - because Ino’s rotund tip only seems to swell even bigger. The flares ridge of it scrapin’ ever tender spot inside you, bucking back and forth.
Your glistening hole to the back of your cervix. Deeper and deeper.
You gasp, “So you did like me calling you that.” Spit-slick lips of his parting as you arch your spine even further. “Such a naughty boy- fuck, you don’t even deserve to be fucked like this- y’know?”
And to your surprise, he’s fervently nodding. Rutting. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Least of all, you don’t deserve this pussy-”
“I don’t deserve it—” Uttering in such a whiny tone. Biting back his gasps.
“Maybe I really should ban you.”
“Please.” Trembling digits clasp onto either side of your hips, digging his rounded fingertips into the flesh there. He’s leaving marks there, he’s tightening his hold- as if afraid you’d actually run away and he’s have to chase after your pretty cunt—“T-tell me more, pretty. Make me feel sorry…”
Ino’s hot breath makes shivers run down your spine. “Y-you probably thought about fucking me all day, huh?”
He hisses as if caught, “Fisted my cock about- mmm, five times in the office bathroom thinking of you, sweetness.” Hands gliding all over your body - n’ down your front where he presses on your stomach. That faint cylindrical bulge he was fucking into you, “With this very hand, pretty- fuck, I imagined this so many times.”
“Filthy.” You tut. “And yet, you still missed Valentine’s?”
“I thought about coming home early s-sooooo many times.” Ino whines against your ear. Just the notion of you insulting him is enough to tighten his heavy balls, slappin’ away between your legs with fervour. “So many times- fuck the report, fuck those elders.”
“Language.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” A few lines of perspiration glide from his chestnut hair. And his tone is all clogged up with lecherous husks, “B-but I’d rather have been fucking you—”
“Oh.” Because then he’s slamming into your g-spot that you see stars.
The split-ended shape of his cockhead, pushing straight into where you were softest. It’s almost as if Ino was fucking his very shape into your cunt, molding your pretty walls to him- not that he deserved that, either.
But the fact that he didn’t deserve your treacly wet pussy and was still managing to fuck into you like a madman…oh, that was nearly enough to make him cum.
“Would’ve fucked you right on that table.” Ino rasps out, panting. Breathy. “Would’ve fuh-fucked you all day long- would’ve fucked you even if someone heard. If someone came in.”
Your eyes grow wide, “Would you have?”
He nods. Dead serious. “I would’ve fucked you right in front of them.” So much of a carnal sensation that he almost couldn’t handle it - he gnaws the pointed tips of his canines against the shell of your ear. “Showed them how niiiicely I fuck this pretty pussy—showed them…ngh, just how greedy she is to swallow me.”
“Pervert—” You whine.
And he grows even bigger inside you. “That, I am.” Before a sudden look of sheepishness crosses his face once more, “And th-this pervert is sorry that I couldn’t make it-”
“But at least you did now.” You answer. “And as a little reward for my- oh, naughty boy…”
Edging in closer, “Yes?”
You’re smiling that very smile that ruins him—“How about for Valentine’s Day you cum inside, Taku?”
And that’s all it takes for him to cum inside.
Thick. Hot ropes.
Flooding your insides with all his ribbons of sap, they’re reaching every deep spot inside you n’ leaving your walls scalding hot. As if he was trying to leave you feeling him in there for daaaaays on end - just sizzling inside and splashin’ with his seed. So much.
The volume was so much that it leaves you leaking out between your legs, gluing your thighs together in all his slick white sheen. And very drag of his long cock leaves your poor innards practically drowning—
“Can I make it up to you again, pretty?”
“You lecher.”
He almost cums again right then n’ there.
.
.
.
The next day, Professor Yaga is receiving a report straight to his desk. Thick. Taking up presence on top of the ancient wooden furniture.
It was covered in a manila folder way, which was unusual for a report - if you followed the protocol of most sorcerers, one was lucky if they slap-dashed a mere page and called it a day. Thrown right over the desk a week after the deadline. And by the size and heft of this thing, it was at least fifty full pages.
As Yaga gets closer, he’s reading the stamp on the envelope—Ino Takuma. One of the best Grade 2 sorcerers that jujutsu society possessed.
It was no surprise that he was the one who put together such a detailed report. Yaga had been told by Panda that he’d worked right through Valentine’s on this thing, leaving around midnight. Which was…quite a lot of effort for a report. Yaga wasn’t sure if he himself would’ve put in this much work, but he also knew that Ino had been aiming for that Grade 1 rank.
He also knew that the boy had a girlfriend - you - and wondered just how you let him get away with such a thing. But then again, maybe that wasn’t his business…
Yaga sits down and opens up the folder, finding the first page to be—nothing to do with the report at all. Instead, it was a notice of taking leave - for a week citing ‘personal situations’.
Next was a receipt for a bouquet of 143 red, red roses. Seemingly filed in here by accident.
Well, Yaga holds back a smile, he guesses he could permit it this time…
♡ GOJO SATORU - You think he lasts?
You: Toru, where the hell are you??
You: We’re late for our reservation!!
You: Pick up your phone.
You: TOOOOOOOOOORU.
You: TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORU
You: Ugh, you’re probably on some mission or something </33
You: But on Valentine’s Day of all days?? C’moooooooooon.
You: At least pick up your phone, Toru.
You: Gojo Satoru, you are hereby and forevermore under a sex ban.
Just a few minutes after sending that last text, you hear a sudden crash outside your penthouse apartment—loud and reverberating. It had the sort of electric charge that made the hair on your body stand on end.
Like thunder.
It leaves you wondering whether a storm could be nearby- there weren’t many neighborhood noises that carried up to your floor. Gojo had picked this place specifically because of that. So perhaps an oncoming thunderstorm? Perhaps some sort of electrical shortage?
Your bedroom light was certainly flickering- and you almost considered turning it off altogether.
What a day. First you get all dolled up for your boyfriend to not arrive at your shared home on time, then he doesn’t answer your texts, then this…whatever this is.
But you can placate yourself by thinking that you won’t get caught in the impending storm, then. No romantic dinner on Valentine’s Day anyways. On the bright side, your make-up shall remain flawless!
At least, that’s what you think.
Because then that crash emanates through the apartment once more—though, this time, it sounds far too close to be a distant storm. Far too…inside the apartment?
You’re just able to sit up on your king-sized bed. Before there’s yet another crash, and soon enough your damn bedroom door is being ripped off its hinges. Absolutely obliterated. Absolutely shattering into a zillion pieces of the most expensive mahogany that Japan can offer.
And you almost don’t have to look up to know that none other than your boyfriend can do such a thing.
Sure enough, once you’re blinking your eyes back open - and the haze of wooden dust dissipates - you see Gojo Satoru standing there. Ivory head bowed. Feet apart. Chest heaving as though he’d just run a marathon—or worse yet, teleported one.
He must have teleported one.
Times like this, you’re really registering just how tall Gojo is. He covers most of the cut-out frame of the bedroom door, blocking any light. And also blocking his expression…
You’re calling out to him cautiously, “Satoru?”
To which he snaps his head up at you and blanches—“Were you serious about the sex ban?” Face slack. Voice high.
Now you’re just taken aback. “The one I set like two minutes ago? I-I don’t know, Toru, I just wanted you to get home-”
“But I am home.” He responds. And as he takes a single step closer, a wave of charged atoms hit you like a faint forcefield - right now, you’re not even sure if Gojo knows his powers are leaking out like this. “But, I am—I am.” Your boyfriend insists, and there was a wide desperation in his blue eyes as though you wouldn’t believe him. “Were you serious about the sex ban?”
“Toru-”
“Were you serious about the sex ban?”
Like a mantra.
He takes another step closer, and the pressure of his cursed energy was almost unbearable. “Were you serious about the sex ban?”
“Toru, no—it was just- oh.”
And you don’t know how it happens - one minute you’re attempting to placate your slightly-frenzied boyfriend about the joke you’d made minutes earlier. And the next, you’re being laid flat against the mattress—Gojo’s hands pushing down on your hips, his right knee pressing between your legs.
Feeling just how soaked you were through those sodden panties of yours- you had no idea how he even had the faintest inkling that seeing him so ruined made…something in you stir. Almost as if he had a sixth sense.
And his hypersensitive ears pick up the lecherous squeeeelch! that you’re letting off once he presses his knee down.
“Fuck, you’re so…” Gojo’s coral pink lips part, glossed over with a sheen of slick that made it seem as though his mouth had been watering the entire way here. His head droops forward. His other hand starts to crackle with cursed energy—“Fuck, you’re so ready f’me.”
“Sa—toru…” You’re letting your heart race. You need him. And that’s all it takes for him to flinch- as though your mere tone saying his name awoke something in him. And the man is dragging his free left hand down your front - in a split-second, your clothes vaporize into thin air.
The dress you’d picked out especially for tonight. Your bra. Your garter.
All but your sodden panties.
He’s keeping that on.
Reaching out one buzzing index, he juuuuuust pulls it to the side. Gojo doesn’t waste a single second before tugging his damn designer pants down and freeing himself.
Showing you just the briefest flash of his rudded, ravaging hot tip—before you’re feeling it stuffin’ between your unsteady legs. Right between without waiting for you to get ready. Right between without waiting for you to accommodate him.
It’s so tight that he hisses.
And it seems that Gojo Satoru has just enough sense to wait until you’re catching your breath- before he reels his hips back and bucks. And bucks. And buuuuucks—teasing your entrance with the sheer stretch. Pummeling himself past that first clench of resistance to try n’ fit inside. He arches his spine to angle his cockhead against the roof of your pussy, “S-see?”
There’s a crack on the tail end of Gojo’s sentence. And you’re looking up at him in slight concern, “Yes?”
But he doesn’t even seem to hear - merely pulling his thickened erection back and stuttering out yet another strike. Sloppy. Into the deepest depths that he could reach at the moment, “See that?” And then back out- and then back in. The sequence continues. “See—”
And you’re not quite sure what you’re supposed to see- “What do you-”
“M’fucking you.” Cold chills sprint down your spine at the realization that this was that the ever-intelligent Gojo Satoru wanted to tell you. Was he really that gone on your pussy already? “And i-if I’m fucking you…I’m having sex with you.”
Your mind’s getting all muddled- whatever response you had locked-away in your throat getting mixed up with Gojo’s own groan. “Can’t have a sex ban if m’having s-sex with you.” He’s echoing out such a harrowed noise at the feeling of himself sliding even deeper.
Getting cushioned by your velvety walls.
Getting suctioned across every ridge n’ vein upon him.
All ten or so inches - yes, The Strongest also seemed to be the The Biggest - squeezing in through the tight channel. You were being thoroughly stretched-out, with his hand pinning one side of your hips so that you don’t squirm. And perhaps subconsciously breezing out the warm air of reversed cursed energy—all so that he doesn’t hurt you once he’s emptying out his solid shaft towards the bottom of your spongy cervix.
Ending out with a reverberating thwack! right on your womb.
Bottomed-out.
Something you never thought possible so soon- with Gojo’s size.
And the man himself twitches just a bit as he takes in the vision between your swollen pussylips. Your folds spread wide open n’ your entrance attempting to clench around his swollen length- “See?” Gojo whispers out once more. “S-see—now m’never gonna leave from…”
“From?” But your question gets answered soon enough. Because your boyfriend runs a finger down your core, ending up at your mid-section- the circle of bright blue around his pupils starts to glow.
And with Gojo’s Six Eyes, he can see exactly where his throbbing tip ended inside you. Smushed against your cervix in the most loving kiss - he presses down on that exact spot with a single finger. “-from here.” So muddled in the mind with his cock- you’ve almost forgotten what he was talking about. “I’m n-never gonna leave from here now, sweetheart.”
“Is that—oh, ngh.” His globular cockhead presses against the softened end of your pussy- but really it feels like he’s fucking right up to your very throat. Again and again. Thrust after thrust.
“It’s true.” And you genuinely wonder whether he can read your mind at this very moment. Because right now, Gojo had one hand latched onto your body n’ never letting go - all so that he can seep out reverse cursed energy into you.
So that he can drill into you like a damn animal—fucking his swollen, red cock in and out. In and out. In and out. Without fearing breaking a bone or two or you- “I swear.” Gojo lovingly nuzzles your throat, the complete opposite of how filthily he was fucking you. “I swear to not pull out-”
Your eyes widen, “You’re gonna c-cum inside, Toru?” And you can’t deny that you’re growing wetter at the fact…
“I swear to always kiss your cervix- ngh, that pretty womb every single time.” His mouth parts with a few dribbles of saliva. He was gone. “I swear to always fill you up over n’ over n’ over—until you overspill.”
And you couldn’t help but feel that these sounded oddly like wedding vows. “And- and—?”
“I swear to give you the best orgasms of your entire—”
See, Gojo Satoru never had to try quite as much to get you to cum - he just knew your body that well. He was acquainted well enough with the cute sweet spots inside of you, he was well-versed in just how to make your pits of pleasure tick. He knew from experience where to hit your g-spot just right and in the same thrust bang against that one spot on your womb.
But now…now he isn’t using anything he knew. He wasn’t using anything he could think up.
Gojo was fucking you on pure, carnal instinct.
And it’s with such ferality that he angles his hips juuuust to the side- bludgeoning cockhead reaching the target of your bundle of nerves. You’re seeing white in an instant.
And as though that hadn’t been enough, Gojo reaches his hand down and spanks! his energy-covered fingertips down on your clit. The little sparks of jujutsu coursing through your veins and mingling with the constant thrashes he was pounding out at your g-spot. It’s with one-two-three more hits on top of your ravaged clit that you’re toppling over the edge of your high-
The vision of you cumming on his cock so, soooo fucking pretty…
“F-fuuuuck—” You’re hearing Gojo echo out in what seems like a distance. It was too hard to register with the dizzying sensations in your mind- his tip probin’ inside your cunt again and again and again.
Fucking you through each blissful bout of your high. He lets his lashes flutter just a bit—“S-squeezing me so tight.” Gojo’s voice cracks once he’s letting it out, visceral shivers wracking through his body. “So tight like you don’t wanna- ngh, let go.” His scalding lips fall on top of yours. “But you don’t have to…”
And then he’s veering into his own euphoria.
Pretty pinkish balls emptying out in looooong waves of dribblin’ slick- gooey and hot. Sticking to your walls like a layer of glaze, it gets sploshed about every time Gojo’s pinpointing your insides with his split-ended tip. The circular divot at the very end swervin’ about his white cum—filling you up.
You feel filled to the brim even before he’s done- and Gojo hums at the mess he’s made.
Still cumming. Still so much volume that it leaks out of you anyway - with more n’ more glittery wads of cum being added onto the pile, you couldn’t imagine just how much was going to end up inside you in the end.
How much of it was going to reach your very womb—
“I t-told you.” Gojo breathes out, deep blue eyes staring into yours. It’s just so mesmerizing to stare up into his enchanted look - so much so that you nearly don’t notice once he picks up your left hand. Placing a peck upon its back, “I kept all my oaths, didn’t I? I came home in time for Valentine’s- all your gifts are outside, by the way, my girl.”
You’re nodding dazedly. “You kept your promises, Toru.”
“My oaths.” He corrects - there was a difference, see? But before you can compute that difference, Gojo reaches a hand out towards the destroyed bedroom door- “And there’s another oath I want to make.”
And then it flies into his hand.
You think it might be a tight bundle of his blindfolds, at first. But it ends up being something more solid, something more cubic—something like…a ring box.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my wife.”
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - 27th FEB. at 2:37PM
Overtime.
Throughout the course of your relationship until now, that dreaded ‘o’ word had remained your husband’s metaphorical mistress—and your worst enemy. Of course, Higuruma absolutely hated whenever you mentioned this - first of all, because he’d never, ever take a mistress.
Why would he, when he had you? His beautiful wife.
May lightning strike him down otherwise.
And secondly, because…well alright. Higuruma has to admit that that was the only qualm he had with your little comparison- because he was a self-admitted workaholic.
Whenever divorce season (you always thought this expression to be somewhat morbid, and he just claimed it was fact), or suing season, or some other multi-billion yen case came along—Higuruma and his firm would be thrown into a frenzy. Working long, sleepless nights.
Your husband slept more at his desk than in bed, those days.
Although it has calmed down somewhat since you two had moved in. Since you two had gotten married.
The law firm had grown - and with it - the number of capable lawyers who could take on a share of cases. Higuruma didn’t have to do anything quite by himself anymore.
Higuruma was more in-check, remember?
Also, the fact that you were around him more—urging him to take care of himself more - likely helped. If he didn’t have you knocking at his home-office door and telling him that you were going to sleep now, then honestly he might just never sleep again. During those seasons, at least.
Except…well, except for this February.
February 14th.
Holed up in his office- he’d been half-way through the nth meeting that day.
Some massive fraud case that they had in the bag - but the other team wasn’t too bad themselves. One could never be too confident in court. And so here they were, poring through the documents well into the evening when—Higuruma had glanced at his phone for a text from you. By chance.
And it was only then that he’d realized he’d missed Valentine’s Day.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He’d handed that meeting over to a junior and ran out immediately.
Nonetheless, Higuruma has missed his chance- no matter how many bouquets or chocolates he bought you. And so here he was, suffering from a sex ban.
Tortured by it.
Because of his own fault, most certainly. But that didn’t make his poor, neglected cock throb any less.
Still showing up to work with impeccable attendance (even earlier, actually) because the longer he stayed in your proximity, the more desperately he wanted to stuff your hole full. The more he’d think about it at work. The more he’d fantasize about just how wet you’d be when you finally lift this ban. The more he’d run to the bathroom whenever you called—fisting his cock furiously in there to the sound of your voice.
The more those around him grew slightly…concerned.
“S-sir?” His most-trusted junior was bounding up to him after nearly two weeks of this.
As Higuruma lifts his head up, he’s realizing that she’s followed by a froth of other juniors and staff. All seemingly coming to speak with him? Something must be amiss…“How may I help you?”
“Sir, actually—” She looks behind her and nods at the other attorneys. “Sir, we would like to tell you that you’ve been working so hard lately-”
“Well, yes-”
“And the case is so near to a close-”
“Certainly-”
“And we can handle it from here.”
“Oh.”
Kicked out of his own office (not quite, but close enough…). Higuruma Hiromi had been dismissed at the plea of his juniors, who’d clearly thought he’d been working himself to the bone—he’d gone home early for the first time in…his entire life.
And once he got home, Higuruma knew what he needed to do first.
First, he’d go up to you - his beautiful wife - and go a bit of grovelling. As all husbands should. Then he’d get on his knees, eat your pretty pussy—and then…
“P-please—” You’re throwing your head back. Cumming for about the third time in the past hour- Higuruma always had such an effort on you.
No matter how many years you two were together- that first taste of your pussy was always like heaven for him. He could see the pearly gates themselves openin’ up—and to him, it looked quite a lot like those swollen pussylips of yours.
Sensitive n’ splattered in a sheen of slick.
He rubs his thumb between your crevice and licks off those honeyed juices - greedy. Just before he’s swirlin’ his thickened tip around your gummy entrance and shoving inside—the first thrust.
All the way from his fat, mushroomy tip- to the tufts of curly brown at his base.
Higuruma doesn’t even wait for you to accommodate his size. He doesn’t care if you’re struggling, he doesn’t care if your cunt quivers like you can’t take it all- because a single slide-slide-sliiiIiide down the channel of your pussy and he’s done for.
After not feeling you for soooo fucking long - and he’s immediately pussydrunk.
That stoic, stern attorney is pussydrunk.
“My- my angel—” An immediate scorching pant escapes him. It gusts against your face and leaves your heart racing- everything about Higuruma now just seemed feverish.
Without a second sentence, he’s reeling his hips back. All the way from base to tip- one of his hands pins down against the side of your hips, the other guides his cock.
Using it as leverage to lavish your insides with his drivelling pre. Honed, burrowing tip. And the rest of him was just so thiiiiick and covered in angry veins, harder than you ever think he’s been. He massages your cunt even with the tiniest of sultry movements, fucking you in tiny, rapid thrusts. Thrust after thrust.
Every inch of him stretchin’ out your walls just felt incredible-
“Shit—” You keen, arching your spine up into his. Higuruma still had his shirt only partly unbuttoned, and that formal tie of his still dangling from his neck.
And he doesn’t say a thing.
Too focused on your cunt.
Too focused on perking his hips up just a bit- his ruddied tip swipes the roof of your cunt. Leaving you shocked at the pressure of him inside you, right before he’s funneling you with eeeeven more inches—fighting against the slight resistance at your first ring of muscle to fuck himself even deeper. Deeper.
And he still doesn’t make a sound.
He seems to be reaching for your very throat, and you whine. “Sh-shit, Hiromi.” As your legs start to ache n’ strain around his slender waist, your husband dips a hand down between your legs. Making you gasp as his expert fingers start toyin’ with your pretty clit - teasing and draaaagging that sensitive nub out till you start to sob. “Shit—fuck, Hiromi. Hold on-”
“Hold on?”
A chill runs down your spine.
Immediately, you’re snapping your head up to meet Higuruma’s dark, dilated eyes. His expression that seemed something feral—he’s rutting his hips once more.
This time…this time, you’re realizing that he’d actually been holding back with his strikes earlier. Now, he was plummeting all those nine inches from tip to hilt without stopping. Without slowing down. Without sensually hittin’ at your sweet spots to help you take him better- he was drilling into you like he was crazed. “Hold on?”
Higuruma repeats.
And you can only peer up at him- “Y-yes?” Sobs and saliva clogging up your throat - you sounded pathetic to your own ears. “It was just a saying, Hiromi, I-”
“You want me to…fucking hold on?” Voice slightly breathy. Slightly gone. “I’ve waited-” And between those vicious thrusts that he was pounding upon your pussy, Higuruma spits out lewd whispers. “-waited for too fucking long to have her- and you want me to- fucking—hold—on—”
Three exact slams upon your spongy cervix, it makes you thoroughly squeal. “I-I was just saying-”
“I thought about this pussy every goddamn day and night and-” He was on a roll now. As if the more he rutted himself inside, the less he could control what he said—“-and during every fucking meeting—”
Serious black eyes staring down at you. You could see your own gaping expression reflected in them.
“I ran to the bathroom every morning when you’d call me-” He utters. Admits. “-just to fuck my hand to the sound of your voice—” And you don’t know what’s making your stomach churn more - the registering of his words, or the way that Higuruma thrusts in deep. So deep that he knocks against your womb. “-and you want me to fucking hold on?”
So deep that he’s cumming.
Loooooong, miry stripes of seed that stick to your walls.
They dribble down your insides. That glaze every inch of you in a creamy white- splashin’ around your insides and coating every nook n’ cranny. It just feels so sizzling hot inside of you, and you’re shivering at the feeling of him warming you up from the inside - saturated sap leaving you whimpering at the noise. The warmth.
He fucks his webs of seed deeper inside. And you raise your head up ever-so-slightly and watch as it dribbles out of you.
And Higuruma can’t help but do the same-
“Fuck…” He breathes. “S-so are we about to hold off on that pregnancy, too?”
.
.
.
“Boss-” Higuruma turns his head at the address of his title - none other than the very same junior from yesterday. She shuffled slightly before him, almost nervous to voice out such thoughts—“You seem well today, sir.”
Higuruma hums, “Is that so?”
She nods eagerly. “Your dark circles have cleared up- and you seem to be glowing. Alert. A bit more sharp than you were yesterday…” Assessing all of him- “You just seem happier than you’ve been in days, sir. Is the fraud case really going that well?”
And he has to hide a smile with the paper he was holding. “You could say that…”
A/N. No idea why this turned into them also trying to get us pregnant- maybe I’m ovulating??
synopsis: how he reacts when you call them by their full name in front of other people
character/s: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb x f!reader (separate)
warning/s: none!
note/s: my favorite one has to be zayne and sylus' im ngl i had so much fun writing this
xavier:
you should’ve known that dating the notorious quiet, handsome man in the association would be an open invitation for your coworkers to pry and get answers for the questions they always had but never dared to ask.
how could they? whenever they talk to xavier, he replies with one-word answers, worse, sometimes he just stares as if the question was the stupidest thing he has ever heard. and honestly, that idea wasn’t far-fetched.
having you as his partner and girlfriend only solidified the association’s curiosity about xavier.
“i don’t think he’d care.” simone mutters as she bites another mini sandwich from the snack display.
tara shakes her head as if trying to convince her to change her mind. “he can’t not care! right?” she turns to you as you tilt your head in confusion, not catching majority of the conversation, too caught up in a mini staring contest that you and xavier had from across the room.
“what?”
“how do you think xavier would react to being called by his name.” you furrow your brows at tara’s question, not exactly getting it.
“nothing? it’s his name…” “no, not his name but his name-name.”
in all honesty, tara lost you. but you urged her to explain that couples usually dislike it when they’re called by their given names rather than a pet name.
and now that you’ve thought about it, you didn’t think that you’ve ever called xavier by his real name.
with tara’s devilish grin, you almost felt bad for wanting to test it out, after all, no better time than the present, right?
“i bet twenty that he doesn’t care.” simone wagers, you almost scolded her, if not for tara’s enthusiastic counter with a fifty.
your gaze flits towards xavier who was already approaching the three of you with two drinks in hand.
he smiles softly as he hands you the flute of champagne. you gave him a grateful smile, the words slipping out of your lips almost in a foreign way.
“thank you, Xinghui.”
you could see the way xavier’s smile twitches. he does not respond; instead, he wraps an arm around your waist.
“are you having fun, star?” you nod before turning back to your friends whose expressions differed from triumph to devastation at the immediate turnout of their bet.
“mm!” you nod, a smile on your face as you lean over to his warmth. “i was just telling simone and tara how much my Shen Xinghui treats me well.”
xavier swoons at the my but not so much what came after.
“ah. i see.” he tightens his grip around your waist before he gestures towards the open balcony, in the guise of fresh air.
you bid your friends a wave goodbye, tara looking like she was trying her hardest not to laugh and simone already counting the bills in her wallet to slap on tara’s waiting hand.
once you and xavier were on the clear, he pulls you into his arms, his face buried on the crook of your neck.
“did i do something wrong? i’m sorry.” xavier says softly against your skin, tickling you slightly.
you giggle, pulling his face away to see a pout on his lips.
“what do you mean, Xinghui?” his pout deepens.
“i don’t like that name.” “what do you mean? it’s literally your name.”
“yeah, to others, but not to you.” xavier says as he holds you tighter against him.
you conclude that it was the end of your little prank, as you explained the bet that your friends made. xavier huffs as he mumbles at the crown of your head.
“i’d rather you call me lumiere.”
“really?!”
“no.”
zayne:
when zayne told you that his parents were going to visit, it was safe to say that you spent the entire day ensuring that your home was welcoming. you and zayne spent time cleaning and redecorating your shared space.
the doorbell rings, and for a moment, you thought it was his parents who arrived an hour early, but to your surprise, it was only the deliveryman for the patisserie you ordered from.
knowing that althea and jace rarely spent time in linkon, you wanted to ensure that they could try new delicacies, so you ordered linkon’s finest macarons, and as a bonus, you bought them their favorite tea as well.
you placed it on the kitchen countertop and forgot about it, thinking that you could easily plate them once they arrived. you failed to notice the curious doctor who approached the box after you left.
althea and jace arrived right on time, you greeted them with a smile as althea hugs you, complimenting how beautiful you had grown from the last time she saw you, while you led them to the couch. zayne sat on the opposite sofa, engaging in small talk, blushing slightly as his father coos about how chubbier his cheeks are and how healthier he looks.
“i’ll prepare some tea.” you excuse yourself as you walk to the kitchen to steep the tea.
once it was finished, you put the teacups on the tray as you walked back to the living room, where they were.
“oh! zayne, could you pour out the tea? i’ll go get the dessert,” you say to your husband, who freezes for a split second.
“no need, darling,” zayne says as he makes a move to stand up. “i can get it; you should sit down. you’ve done enough,” he says, coaxing you to sit down. you shake your head, stopping him from standing up.
“it’s okay, zaynie, i’m already standing up, just sit down and catch up, i’ll be right back.” you say, giving his cheek a swift peck, hearing his mother coo at how domestic the two of you were.
you went back in the kitchen, humming slightly under your breath before it stops as you opened the box ofdesserts.
there were only six macarons left. you ordered eight.
your jaw drops at the only answer as to why two were suddenly missing. without saying anything more, you plated the remaining macarons before carrying it back.
you can see zayne’s back as you walk, slightly tense as he tries to keep up with a conversation with his father.
“Li Shen.” zayne jolts as you say his name, you can’t see his exact expression, but judging by the way althea was biting her lip in amusement and jace was already grinning, you know that he knows that he’s in trouble.
“yes, dearest?” zayne answers, his hand on the teacup as he takes a small sip, trying to act unbothered.
“why are there only six macarons?” you walked slowly, placing the plate in the middle of the coffee table and facing him, crossing your arms.
zayne blinks slowly, you can see the small gulp he took.
“perhaps the patisserie made a mistake. we can contact them after,” he says in a calm tone.
you raise a brow.
“you have crumbs at the corner of your mouth, Li Shen.” his eyes widened before he put the teacup down, wiping at his mouth, trying to get rid of the evidence, but the four of you know it was too late.
althea laughs at the display, patting her husband affectionately on the arms.
“this reminds me of when we caught our little zaynie sneaking for the cookie jar when he was young, right jace?” jace nods, a stifled laugh leaving his lips.
zayne looks down in embarrassment. you clicked your tongue softly before sitting beside him.
“i told you the desserts were for your parents!” you whined softly as you took one of the macarons, slicing it and eating it, stabbing another bite for zayne.
he unashamedly takes it.
“i apologize, my love.” he was not sorry at all.
althea and jace only look at the two of you, amused. yet, happy that their zaynie truly found love.
you reached down absentmindedly towards zayne’s teacup, only for you to flinch.
his teacup was frozen solid.
you looked at him who avoided your gaze, before clearing his throat.
“i’d argue that the frozen teacup is your fault.” zayne says, immediately regretting it as you glared at him.
“what was that?”
“i said that you are sweeter than any macaron i have ever tried.”
sounds about right.
rafayel:
rafayel has been working on a painting for the last three hours. well, that’s how long it seemed to you because you’ve only been in his mansion for three hours. you knew he was painting for longer, given that it looked like it physically hurt him to adjust his posture.
“raf, take a break,” you say gently as you place a hand on his back.
he looks at you with a smile on his face. “in a bit, cutie! i promise. i’m about to invent a new color.” you rolled your eyes at his quip, yet let him do it, you wouldn’t have been able to pry him off anyway.
the sound of a doorbell ringing takes your attention off your boyfriend, who seems to have the idea of ignoring the sound.
“don’t worry, cutie. it’s probably thomas.” rafayel waves it off. you sighed and walked towards the door.
“you know, he wouldn’t be as overbearing if you stopped ignoring him,” you retort.
“no, cutie. he’d lock me up in his basement to keep painting if he could.”
you paid his response no mind as you opened his door, awaiting to see thomas’ brunette hair and stressed-out expression. only to be pleasantly surprised when you see the shade of rafayel’s hair greet you.
“talia! what a surprise.” you say, greeting her as your eyes flit downwards, seeing the luggage at her feet. “oh! let me carry those in, please come inside. i didn’t know you were visiting.” you hurriedly grasp her luggage, then usher her in.
talia thanks you with a smile on her face, giving you a gentle laugh as you fussed over her.
at this point, you were flustered. you did not know that rafayel’s aunt was visiting; had you known, you would’ve made a greater effort in getting rafayel to clean his own home. it was in no means ready to cater to a guest.
“ah, really?” talia asked, genuinely surprised. “i thought rafayel might’ve told you. but then again, rafayel easily forgets things.”
you smiled, nodding, still giving her your best host-like smile, while inside your head, you were already scolding your boyfriend in your mind.
“--just like how he forgot to pick me up from the airport.” “what?”
you couldn’t help but cut talia off as your eyes widened. you looked over to the painter who was still stuck in his own world, as if his only remaining family member wasn’t standing in his house.
“Qi Yu.”
rafayel freezes in his action, the paintbrush dropping from his hand for a split second before he sharply turns towards you, who looks back at him, unamused.
your arms were crossed, a glare on your face as you stared him down.
“...yes, my cutie?”
you give him an unimpressed look before raising a brow. rafayel seems to have noticed the additional presence in the room as his eyes widened. from under his breath, you could hear him mutter a curse.
he immediately straightens, ignoring the kinks in his back that screamed at him from the sudden movement, before he walks to where the two of you were, his arm rising to wrap against your waist, only for you to dodge it in an obvious way.
“cutie–”
“you didn’t tell me that talia was visiting!” you say, exasperated. “and how could you invite her here when this place is such a mess! she came all the way from varona and this is what you greet her with?”
rafayel rubs a hand behind his neck, sheepish. “i forgot.”
“really, Qi Yu. you forgot.”
rafayel flinches as you use his full name; that action spurs talia to let out a laugh at the banter.
“i have seen rafayel be summoned by his father using that name, and he does not even bat an eye, yet…” talia smirks as she interlocks her arm with yours.
“i see my nephew has a weakness.”
rafayel would’ve found a way to refute, really, he would, but his face was burning and his lips were formed into a pout as he saw you visibly soften at talia’s assurance.
“no need to worry about me, dear. i’ll make myself at home in the guest room.” talia pats your arm once before she wheels in her luggage towards the relatively tidy guest room.
when talia was gone, you looked at rafayel with a blank expression on your face.
“cutie…”
“so, let me get this straight.” you interrupt him. “you ignore me for three hours even though you invited me to your house. you forget to pick up your aunt from the airport and you forget to tell me so i can prepare to accommodate her, and now all you can say is cutie? really, Qi Yu?”
rafayel wraps his arms around you, pulling your front flush to his chest as he whines. “cutiee—” he buries his face onto your hair. “i’m sorry. please never call me that again.”
your lips twitch, secretly having fun with his reactions.
“Qi Y—” “cutiee. stooop.” rafayel whines as he nuzzles his face onto your neck. he sighs as he pulls away, a pout still on his face. “i promise i’d take better notice of my schedules.”
“and?”
“and?!” rafayel echoes back, offended that you didn’t take the bait before he collects himself. “and i’ll treat you and talia to an expensive dinner tonight.”
“good.”
rafayel pouts.
“you can be so mean sometimes, cutie.”
“really, Qi—” “stop!”
sylus:
sometimes, you curse yourself for being competent. at first, you thought that showing guts in the hunter’s association would bring you more respect and dignity.
in reality, it just thrusts you on more missions that make you question if the salary was justifiable.
you were so tired, you just got back from a week-long mission.
you just wanted to rest in sylus’ arms and whine about how the association was wringing you dry and look at him in appallment once he suggests quitting your job. you know, the usual.
as you ride your motorbike to the N109 zone, you can already imagine the conversation. you smiled softly to yourself as you approached the heavy doors that seemed to readily open to you.
you walk towards the main hall, brows furrowing as you hear luke and kieran throwing out profanities and the sounds of controllers clicking.
you push open the door to see luke, kieran and, surprisingly sylus, on the couch with their vr gear on. you see the tv playing a racing game that you vaguely remember playing. judging by the twins’ response, you assumed that sylus was in the lead.
as much as you would’ve loved to join in and have a little game night, you were tired and wanted nothing more but to be held by your lover.
seeing sylus be so unguarded and oblivious to your arrival, you couldn’t help but time your entrance, once you see sylus seconds away from the finish line, you cleared your throat as you loudly called out.
“Qin Che.”
luke and kieran freeze as if they were the ones being called as they ripped out the vr gear from their faces, looking like deer in headlights. sylus also takes his off, albeit slower, as he takes in your figure. a look of surprise and longing in his expression.
you had your arms crossed, a blank expression on your face as you stepped closer.
almost immediately, you see the twins skedaddle past you, dropping their gear and leaving sylus sitting on the couch.
“ooooooo, dad’s in trouble!” you hear luke tease, and a sharp smack! right after, as kieran urges him to move faster, the door slams shut.
an offended caw resounds in the room, you turn around to see mephisto banging itself on the door, wanting to get out as well. you bit back laughter as you see the door open for just a sliver before a gloved hand– you’re assuming luke, reaches out to pull mephisto by the wing, an indignified squawk leaving the metal crow’s beak.
the room was silent, save for the video game’s background music, to which sylus shuts down.
you walked over to him, who sat there waiting for your next move.
without another word, you sat on his lap, your face pressing against his chest, hearing the way his heart was beating significantly faster.
“welcome home.” sylus says as he wraps his arms around you, breathing in your scent.
“your heart’s beating really fast.” you point out, voice muffled by his chest. you pull away slightly to look up at sylus who immediately presses a kiss on your forehead.
“well. it seemed like a certain kitten hissed at me unprovoked,” sylus said as he affectionately ran his fingers through your hair.
“all because i called you by your name?”
sylus chuckles as he presses another kiss to the crown of your head.
“sweetie, you underestimate the power you have over me.”
caleb:
you really shouldn’t have agreed to be caleb’s date at their high school reunion. hell, he shouldn’t have even bothered going.
the day could’ve been spent with the two of you cuddling in comfortable clothes on your sofa, but no. caleb thought it would be a good idea to show you around the DAA.
which wasn’t what was happening as his former classmates whisked him away. you stood off to the side, a frown on your face, arms crossed over your chest.
caleb promised you that he’d be back in five minutes. it’s been thirteen minutes, and there was no sign of him ending the conversation. good thing that gideon was right beside you, keeping you company, as he only arrived a few minutes ago.
“your boyfriend sure is popular, huh?” gideon teases as he nudges you with his elbow.
“too popular if you ask me,” you mumble under your breath, eye twitching as yet another former classmate approaches him.
gideon snorts under his breath. “he’s always been popular, not even your scrunchie on his wrist managed to ward off the girls at the time.” you huff at that, eyes zoning in on the girl by the corner of your approaching caleb.
it was irrational, you’re well aware of that, but enough was enough.
‘caleb is mine.’ the jealous part of your mind screamed.
“Xia YiZhou!”
for a split second, you can feel the tension in the room drop, and everyone in the room freezes. caleb immediately turns to where you were standing, smiling sheepishly.
“coming, honey!” caleb walks briskly to where you were, but you gave him the cold shoulder.
he tries to pry your arms away from your chest as he attempts to coddle you.
“you said five minutes, Xia YiZhou.” you say, turning away from him. from the side, you can hear gideon stifle a laugh as caleb’s face drops at your words.
“pips, you know—” “five minutes. you said.” you glare at the way caleb’s lips twitched, you knew the bastard was fighting a smirk.
“is my pipsqueak feeling bored–” he reaches up to playfully pinch your cheek, but you dodged his hand before walking away.
“damn dude, good luck.” you hear gideon say as you exit the venue.
caleb follows you, letting you walk three steps ahead. you walk by the school’s open garden, feeling the breeze pass your face.
“go away, Xia YiZhou! i don’t wanna see you.” you hear caleb chuckle from behind you, and all of a sudden, he’s right beside you, flinging an arm around your shoulders.
“what’s got my baby apple upset, hm?” you huffed, reaching for your opposite shoulder to pull his hand, only to feel his palm sweating.
and caleb’s palm only ever does that when he’s nervous.
you fight the grin that threatens to escape your face. however, caleb already caught sight of it.
“ah, i see. someone just wanted my attention.” you rolled your eyes, dropping the facade.
“there were too many girls trying to talk to you.” you huffed. “it’s like they don’t know you have a girlfriend!” you squint your eyes, accusatory.
“unless you told them you didn’t have one.”
“hey now, pipsqueak.” caleb flicks your forehead softly. “even if they didn’t know, i’d let them know. no need to be jealous,” you huff, turning around.
caleb couldn’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips as his arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
“i’m all yours, pipsqueak.”
“Xia YiZhou, you dummy!”
caleb only smiles against the back of your head, finding your little tantrum cute.
“yeah, yeah. your dummy. i know.”
mentally, he was already planning all the ways he could get you to call out to him affectionately once more.
note/s: omg two uploads in one day that's craaaaaaazy lmao i hope you enjoyed this one <3
nanami yells at his poor girlfriend for something that wasn't even her fault :( (angst to comfort!)
wc: 4k || ac: @/thatsallitcheif || based on this req !
nanami was pissed the fuck off.
not the boring kind of snappy attitude he got whenever he was forced to deal with gojo or yuji, no. he was properly upset, his anger evident in the way his temples look ten times as tense as he swings the door to your shared apartment open.
today was... rough, to say the least.
some idiot in his business class had been assigned as his partner, a group project that was supposed to show just how much attention you'd been paying to the course. y'know, something he actually gave a shit about?
and that partner, god if he wasn't a useless prick. he skipped meetings, turned in half-assed work at the checkpoints, and acted like nanami would just fix it. like this seriously didn’t matter.
and then the feedback today? oh god.
it definitely wasn't stellar, definitely not the standard nanami holds himself to. his lecturer was pointing out gaps, weak cohesion, a lack of balance. just stupid little bullshit things that weren't even his fault.
nanami had sat there, his jaw close to exploding from the way he was clenching it so tight, knowing he couldn’t say a word without sounding weird and defensive.
so yeah, he came home with bucket loads of irritation and absolutely nowhere to put it. well, yet.
he wipes a veiny hand down his face as he scuffs his shoes off at the door, praying to god that nothing else goes wrong tonight or he might actually kill someone.
as he tracks inside, what other than the kamisama kiss intro starts blaring in his ears, the happy upbeat tune dragging against his eardrums, he realllly didn't need this right now.
he peers over to the couch and spots you sitting cross legged fully engrossed in the shower.
you were cute, but to be honest, he just wanted to go to bed. so, when you whip your head around and spot that he's finally home, he braces for the impact he knows is coming.
you hop up and dart into his arms with the biggest little smile on your pretty face, you clasp your hands together behind his back and pull him in close.
"ken! i missed you." you muffle into his chest, relived to see your boyfriend after a long day of free periods at home.
he sighs through clenched teeth, then half heartedly wraps an arm around your waist before letting it drop back down and slipping from your tight grasp.
“hey,” he mumbles, already tracking halfway down the hallway, leaving his poor, pouty girlfriend standing there all confused.
he doesn't notice though, the door to the bedroom is already in his sight and he looks at it like a finish line.
you stay cemented to the wooden floor, watching with a small frown as he pads down to the bedroom.
you tell yourself not to read into it. i mean, c'mon! he probably had a long lecture, he looks exhausted, and everyone has off days, after all. even your perfect boyfriend.
you smooth it over in your head before you overthink it to the point of tears.
you turn and follow him down the hall, keeping your steps feather light as to not irritate him further. "hey, baby? i made sushi earlier,” you say softly. “it’s in the fridge. i thought you might want some when you got home?"
he stops just short of the bedroom door. not to turn to you, not to soften up and cut the foul attitude, nuh uh. just to answer dully.
“i’ll have it for lunch tomorrow,” he sighs. “m' not hungry.”
the door handle clicks open under his hand, and your chest gets all tight and uncomfortably achy. he never turns down the food you make. never. even when he’s exhausted, he always eats at least a little. he always thanks you and asks how long it took to make, then tells you it tastes good even when the rice is overcooked.
you nod even though he isn’t looking and force a brighter tone of voice. “oh, okay! that’s alright.”
he stays silent, and an old habit of filling up conversation space before it turns awkward twists around in your gut..
“um,” you start, then stop. your fingers rub together nervously as you look away from him shyly. “there’s.. uh, something else i gotta tell you.”
he turns his head slowly to face you, his expression oozing with irritation as he answers curtly, “what.”
your thoughts jump backwards to earlier that morning. you were ironing one of his more expensive shirts after it had been crinkled on the clothes line. the setting might've been too high, because the unfamiliar scent of burnt fabric started wafting into your nostrils... your heart dropped when you saw the mark.
you swallow. “i’m really sorry. i was ironing your shirt. the one you wear to class sometimes? and i didn’t realise the heat was too high and i… i messed it up.”
his expression doesn’t change yet, but you can tell some cogs are stalling and jamming in that big head of his.
“i ordered you a new one,” you rush on. “it's the same cut, the same color. it should be here in a couple of days... gosh– i'm so sorry honey, i– i know it won’t be exactly the same but i–"
“you did what.”
your words freeze up in your mouth.
“you burnt my shirt?" he spits lowly, “i told you not to iron my clothes, [name].”
your shoulders pull in. “i know. i just thought i could help. i didn’t think–"
“–clearly.”
oh.
he steps closer. not into your space, but near enough that you feel the heat and anger pulsating off of him. “do you have any idea how expensive that shirt was?"
you nod, feeling the anxiety crawl up your back and down your throat. "yes, baby... that’s why i replaced it.”
“oh, but you didn’t replace it,” he says. “you bought a different one. that's not the same thing.”
“i'm sorry,” you say quietly. “i didn't know where–”
“you never know,” he cuts in. his voice is getting louder now, he's no longer being careful with his volume. “that’s the problem, [name]. you never know, and you still insist on getting involved in all of my important shit.”
you ears begin to ring a deafening hum. this isn’t how he talks to you. not ever. he corrects you sometimes, sure. maybe he gets semi-annoyed, but even then it's very rare. but this tone, this anger? it feels so horribly wrong on him..
“I was trying to do something nice,” you mumble out softly, the nervousness you were sure you'd shaken since meeting him curling around your head and trapping you in that shy vice once more. “i.. i’m sorry i ruined your shirt, kento..”
“yeah? well sorry doesn’t fix it,” he snaps. “sorry doesn’t mean anything when you keep doing the same thing over and over.”
your lips are getting wobbly but you manage to choke out a small reply. “but.. i don’t?"
he lets out a curt, poisonous laugh. “don’t lie. you mess things up constantly. the chores, my things, the schedules. i spend half my time fixing what you fuck up.”
okay, wow. that hurt like a motherfucker. you'd always been a little insecure about the way you weren't always the best at house work, but you were trying. you were trying for him.
“I clean,” you plea. “i cook. i try to–”
“no! you try, then you do it badly,” he snaps. his voice is close to shouting now. “half the time i redo your shit because i don’t trust you to do it right the first time. i’ve told you this before, if you don’t know what you’re doing, stay out of it!"
all of this over a shirt?.. your poor mind was reeling with what ifs. what if this was him finally throwing the cat out of the bag and telling you he wanted to break up? what if this was his way of telling you he'd be better off with a girl who was more capable? what if this was all a big lead up to him telling you you were never good enough to be with such an upstanding man like him?
each cruel word from his mouth only acts as a catalyst to these thoughts. you were incompetent, useless, untrustworthy. he doesn’t say them outright, but he might as well with the way he's berating you.
you feel so small now, your clammy hands curl into themselves until your nails are leaving little moons in your skin. you don’t raise your voice at him, you don’t interrupt at all, and you most definitely don't even think of arguing back. you’ve never been good at fighting with people, especially not with him. especially not when he looks at you like you’re an obstacle he needs to kick out of the way.
“just leave everything to me, why don't you?” he continues. “obviously i don't do enough. it would be easier that way since you clearly can’t handle basic tasks without ruining shit.”
your eyes sting. you blink hard, but it doesn’t help, like, at all. the hot streaks down your flustered face is evidence of that...
this doesn’t feel real. nanami is kind, nanami is patient, nanami listens, nanami's kind. the man in front of you is mean and cruel and doesn’t seem to see you as his loving girlfriend at all.
“I didn’t mean to make things harder for you,” you whisper.
he only scoffs. “intent doesn’t matter. results do. and your results are always a fucking problem.”
you want to dissolve into a puddle on the floor, you want to curl up somewhere and hide away from this monster disguised as your once living boyfriend. you don’t defend yourself, you don’t tell him how much effort you try to put in, how careful you try to be. you don’t remind him of the mornings you wake early just to make his day smoother, you don’t point out that he never used to talk to you like this.
you just stand there, and you take it. this was so unbelievable, so new, you didn't know how else to handle it.
and he just keeps on going. every frustration from his day pours out, redirected and sharpened, pointed straight at you. the partner who didn’t pull his weight, the criticism he didn’t deserve, the sense of being judged for things outside his control. it all lands on you instead, because you’re here, because you won’t fight back, because you look like you can carry it.
and you do. for a while.
your eyes go all blurry from the way tears prick at your lids, your gaze plummets to the floor and your hands start to shake. you hate how badly you're taking this, how he can obviously see that you're terrified but he just won't stop.
after it feels like he's gotten it all outta his system, he finally stops talking. the words dry up, leaving a thick silence behind in both his throat and the air. his chest is heaving as the anger drains out, replaced by a horrible, innate awareness.
what did he just do?
his head shoots up to look at your face wet with tears, then to your hands and the way they shake, to your eyes as they dart anywhere but him. his girlfriend, his gentle girl, looking like she'd just been battered, standing there all scared..
because of him.
fuck.
he opens his mouth to say your name, to apologise, to explain, but he never gets the chance.
because you push him away before he can, your hands come up and push against his chest, not hard, but forceful enough that he gets the memo.
“don’t,” you say. your voice cracks pathetically. “just.. just leave me alone.."
then you turn and dart the rest of the way down the hall.
the bedroom door closes behind you with a soft, careful sound, like you don’t want to make anything worse, even now, after he'd just rebuilt every wall you'd managed to break down with him when it came to you opening up.
~
“my sweet girl… please open the door…”
you'd been locked away in the bed room for a little over an hour now, hiding from him.
his voice comes through the wood much softer than of the foul shit you’d heard from him tonight. he sounds worn down and stripped bare of all the angst he'd been harbouring beforehand. you sit on the edge of the bed with your knees pulled up to your chest, staring at the door with a forlorn expression.
you don’t move and you most certainly don’t answer.
from the other side of the barrier, nanami stands with his forehead pressed to the wood, feeling like every bad person in the world all at once.
“i know you don’t wanna see me,” he says quietly. “i get that. i deserve it.” he sighs softly. “but please… just listen. you don’t have to say anything. just… let me say this, sweetheart.”
you don't reply once more, the apartment feels too big and roomy without you in it, even though you’re only a few steps away.
“i’m sorry,” he huffs out quietly, his soft spoken self coming back out into the open. “i’m so fucking sorry. i should have never spoken to you like that. not ever. i don’t care how bad my day was, i don’t care how angry i felt, none of it excuses what i said to you.”
he gulps down the stinging in his lungs and persists.
“what i said was so cruel. it was disgustingly wrong. it was aimed to hurt you, and i knew that while i was doing it. and that’s the part that makes me feel sick to my stomach.”
you stay silent, but your ears are definitely pricked.
“i took everything i was feeling and i threw it at you because you were there. because you wouldn't yell back. and that’s disgusting of me.” his voice dips. “i made you feel small. i made you feel useless. i made you feel like a burden in your own home.”
you press your face into your knees. your eyes start to sting all over again.
“but baby, you are none of those things,” he says a tad louder because he needs you to hear this part clearly. “not even close. i don’t know how i let that shit come out of my mouth when the truth is the complete opposite.”
he exhales slowly, gathering himself just to let go again.
“today's class was rough. just stupid thing after another, more stupider thing.” a pause. “and i came home already angry, already looking for somewhere to drill it.”
his voice breaks a little. “and i took it out on you.”
another fill of quiet and you still don’t make a sound nor open the door.
“i love you,” he mumbles desperately. “i love you so much it seriously scares me. im not usually one for relationships, but i told myself i'd try my best with you, because you mean more to me than anyone else..." his voice cracks like he might cry. "and tonight... i acted like someone who doesn’t deserve you at all."
his forehead stays against the door and his shoulders sink.
“everything i said about you not doing enough… about you ruining things… i don’t believe any of it. not for a second. i was lashing out, i was trying to hurt something because i was hurt.”
he lets out a strangled sound that might of been a laugh if it didn’t flatline only a second after sounding.
“you cook for me every single day. you make food that reminds me to slow down and actually eat instead of skipping meals like an idiot. you clean even when i tell you not to worry about it. you organise my class notes when i forget. you remember my deadlines better than i do. you wake up early just to see me off with a smile like i’m the best part of your morning.”
your fingers shake into the blanket beneath you.
“you ironed that shirt because you wanted to help me,” he continues. “because you thought about me while i wasn’t even home. and i stood there and tore you apart for it.”
his voice drops lower. “i’m appalled by myself. truly. i never wanted to be the kind of man who raises his voice at you. i never wanted to be the reason you look scared in your own house.”
he shifts on the floor outside, the faint sound of him sitting down against the door.
“you do so much for me,” he says softly. “you do more than i made it out to look. you make this place feel like a home, you make me feel so steady when everything else is a chaotic mess. and i stood there and told you that what you do doesn't matter..."
his hand lifts and presses flat again to the door, right where your back would be if you were standing there.
“i am so, so sorry my love."
his apology pours through the door and it feels earnest and aching, but it doesn’t erase what’s already been said. the words he used still sit under your skin, sharp and lodged deep in your pumping arteries.
outside, nanami closes his eyes with a deep breath, he knows there’s no guarantee you’ll forgive him. he knows apologies don’t rewind time, and he knows he might have undone months, maybe years, of trust he'd built between the two of you, especially with such a shy girl, in a single night.
his throbbing head drifts softly to the first time he met you. you were timid, you spoke softly and avoided all of his eye contact, you were careful with everything you did. he remembers promising himself he’d never be another voice that made you shrink away like a snail into its shell.
yet tonight, he was 10x worse than that.
he stays there, back against the door, replaying every sentence he'd spat down at you. every moment he could have stopped and didn’t. every chance he had to walk away instead of cutting you down.
“i’ll wait,” he says quietly, not sure if you’re still listening. “as long as you need. i’m not going anywhere.”
...
the door clicks, then slides open gently leaving nanami's back without a rest.
"baby?" he flicks his head around, now looking up at a very sad, yet very pretty girl.
he practically jumps to his feet, flattening down his shirt and running a hand through his hair.
“are you okay?” he asks quietly like he’s afraid the question alone might do some more irreversible damage.
you can't muster up and answer, you don't try to tell him something you're not even sure of yourself, so you stay quiet looking up into his solemn eyes.
he spots a dried track of salt running down your cheek and his arm reaches up instinctively to wipe it away. after, you gently push his arm away, but too keen on him thinking he can touch you just yet.
“i’m fine,” you say. your voice is steady, even if it doesn’t quite match how you feel. “really.”
he nods, even though it’s obvious he doesn’t believe you, not one bit. he drops his hand back to his side like he’s been reminded of his place.
“i’m sorry,” he chirps again. “i know i already said it. i just… i need you to know i mean it.”
the way nanami looked right now would send your past self into a coma. he was shrunk into himself, his eyes were hollow from stressing out over you, and his voice was shaken and impossibly weak. still. even if he was sorry, the fact that he'd done what he did still remained.
“i don’t forgive you,” you say honestly.
he flinches, just a little. but he doesn’t interrupt.
“not yet,” you add. “but i don’t want to shut you out either. i just… i need some space from what you said.”
he lets out a big exhale with relief and guilt all tangled together. “that’s more than okay,” he says. “i understand, honey. completely.”
he steps forward then, giving you time to move away if you want to. when you don’t, his big, grounding arms slither around your shoulders and hold you tenderly against his chest.
you let yourself melt into him, after this hell of a night you needed some tlc, even if it was from the very root of your discomfort.
“i’m taking tomorrow off,” he says softly, chin resting near your hair. “no class, or homework, nothing. m' gonna spoil you, baby. i promise you."
you pull away to look up at him. “ken., you don’t have to do that.”
he gives a small shake of his head. “i know. this isn’t about getting back on your good side.” his mouth curves into something gentle. “i just want to. i want to spend the day with you. i want to make it a good one after all of the pain i just put you through.”
you shyly mumble, “you don’t need to spoil me.”
“yes, but i want to,” he replies simply. “please, let me.”
his hands come up to frame your face, the pass of his thumbs resting along your cheeks as he strokes lines down where your tears would of fallen.
“i hate that i made your pretty little face look like this,” he murmurs. “i hate that i put that look in your eyes. you deserve softness, my love...not that..”
your lips inch upwards into a small smile despite the situation, and you look him in the eye for half a second.
he notices right away and of course, his own smile follows gently.
“there it is,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your flushed cheem. “that smile. i love that smile.”
he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, his stubble tickling your chin.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers again, another kiss following. “i’m so sorry.”
he guides you back toward the bedroom with a hand at your back, he helps you sit on the bed, then gently encourages you to lie back. his movements are nice and kind, so attentive, he’s really making sure every step feels safe and familiar.
he leans his big muscular body over yours as he peppers small kisses over your delicate skin.
“i’ll never talk to you like that again, okay?” he says quietly between kisses. “never. i don’t care what kind of day i’ve had, you are not where my anger belongs, and i am so sorry for ever getting that mixed up."
you look up at him with shiny eyes. “you.. you really scared me,” you admit.
his expression softens further, if that’s even possible at this point. “i know. and i hate that. i swear to you, i will spend every day making sure you never feel like that with me ever again.”
he presses his forehead to yours, “you’re not a burden,” he insists. “you’re not useless. you’re the best part of my life, [name]. and i am so grateful you didn’t walk away from me tonight even though you had every right to. hell, you still do."
you reach up, fingers curling lightly into his shirt. “i just… need time.”
he nods. “take all of it. anything you need. i’ll be right here.”
pulling you into his side after rolling over, his arm rests tightly around you in such a way that feels protective without being overwhelming and possessive.
“tomorrow, i’ll take you wherever you want. we’ll eat whatever you want. we’ll do whatever you want, we'll do nothing if that’s what you need.” he assures you, sighing contently into your neck.
you let go of a small "mhm." in response, your sore, puffy eyes finally starting to close.
“thank you,” you whisper.
he kisses your hair. “always.”
he might of been an asshole who misplaced his anger, and he might of been the single most asshole-ish guy in the universe tonight, but when a man like nanami makes a mistake? you best belive he never, ever makes it again.
that's why you stay curled up in his arms as he strokes your back gently. you could tell he meant every word of the apology, and you knew that this was a one time thing.
nanami wasn't the prefect boyfriend, but after that night, he promised himself he'd be the closest thing to it. for you, his sweet, gentle girl.
A/N first request done, 9 to go ! mean nanami is so yum i lava him 🤞🏼
Synopsis. Dearest gentle reader, it’s a royal affair! This social season we answer the age-long question: can a knight truly love a princess? For amidst the celebrations and pomp of your royal betrothal, rumors circulate that a certain handsome knight, Choso Kamo, already has his eyes (and hands) on you. Is forbidden romance in the air?
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, knight!Choso, Bridgerton AU, princess x knight, best-friends-to-Iovers, regency AU, YEARNING, letters, secret admirers, betrothals, poIiticaI alliances, unrequited Iove (or is it?), the Ton, Lady Whistledown’s, papers, scandaIs, balls, pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, spítting, he’s a MUNCH, face-ríding, sneaking off, service d, he’s FÉRAL, ríding him, using him, fírst times, manhandIing, making it fit, cervíx smooches, begging to be yours, rough s babbIing, DÚMBlFICATlON, making you work for it, creampíes, pushing it back in, cúmpIay, slight overstím, confessions, HAPPY ENDING, coronations, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.9k
A/N. Heard there was a new Bridgerton season so I just had to <33
The letter is short.
“It’s you.
My dearest princess, surely, you must know that it can only ever be you.
I have battled fruitlessly this greatest conflict of my life—those of the soul—and I cannot bear it any longer. I have fraught, and choked, and swallowed my words in the hope that, perhaps, one day they shall cessate along with this traitorous heart of mine. It is what it deserves. Diverted from its duties to the body, my heart exists solely to count the beats of time that I am beside you.
It aches the greatest ache, as my affection remains unchanged. And the words yest escape me onto this page, my dearest princess.
Thus, I beg that you forgive this lowly admirer for his treason.
For, it’s you. It’s you. It’s you.
It shall at last and forevermore be you.”
Unsigned and unclaimed. Left on the gilded surface of your nightstand, as it had been every morning for the past four years.
Your bashful secret admirer.
Now, the first time had been rather a shock—to both you and the flutter of attendants who’d happened upon the parchment. You certainly didn’t have any close acquaintances nor prospects entertained whom were so dedicated to deliver a letter at the splinter of daybreak (and a brief interrogation of your personal ladies-in-waiting showed that they’d seen nothing of who’d been slipping you notes at night).
It had to be someone from the palace, however - if they managed to deliver these letters so frequently and so easily.
Though most nobles sent their correspondences upon dishes of pure silver, with an attendant from their court that would recount every detail of your reaction to them later. But this one had no staff attached to it, no emblem, no name. No identity in the very least.
Nothing but slanted, slightly trembling words as if the writer’s hand had been caught in an inescapable tremor the entire time. And the flower.
Every morning, once you excitedly unfurled the little pink ribbon that tied the letter up, a small yellow daffodil would fall from inside. As if a piece of the early morning sunlight, plucked from the skies, placed in your hands, you’d roll the stem between your fingers as you read through the letter.
Each word more tantalizing than the last.
You’d tried to spend the night awake on several occasions, of course, to catch this romantic culprit in the act. But the only thing that served you was a few hours of sleep, and a thoroughly cranky elocution teacher once you kept nodding off during class - and no admirer, evidently. And yet you’d still awoken to the neatly tied-up parchment in the morning.
Like a phantom in the night.
The letter was the first sign of daybreak itself.
When that scheme had found itself utterly useless, you’d taken to warning your personal knights stationed outside your royal chamber - certainly not to get your admirer caught, rather to find out just a morsel of information about them. A morsel.
Yuji and Nobara had been rightfully horrified, though you’d insisted that whoever this was meant no harm!
You suspected that your admirer snuck into your room in the few minutes between the knights changing their stations: Yuji and Nobara would be set firmly outside until midnight, and any dark hours past that would have your doorstep occupied by knights Choso and Yaga. Two of the most trusted knights in all the kingdom, with all the accolades to prove it.
And it certainly helped that Choso had been your personal knight for the past two years - though you’d been friends for far longer than that. Always at your side, always staring down nobles that overstepped, always offering his hand out to you when a step was too steep.
He was your rock. He is.
He’d been one of the court advisor’s sons, your age. You remember being a young royal unaware (or perhaps uncaring) of the duties that loomed for you in the horizon; spending summer mornings playing tag with Choso and a few of the other children in the palace, and winter nights breezing through books and time like sand—just the two of you in that grandiose library. His father resided in a modest estate not too far off from the palace, and Choso cried every time he had to say goodbye to you. Every single day.
You grew the most close with Choso.
And once he had come of age, he’d promptly signed up to become a knight.
Through training and nutrition plans, and battles and scars, Choso had climbed up the ranks faster than any other you’ve ever seen. Though he was still as tender-hearted as you remembered him - he’d shed a few tears the day he was assigned to a brief battle on the outskirts of the kingdom. Away from you.
But you’d simply wiped away his tears and cooed in a low voice that your elocution lessons hadn’t taught you to—come back to me soon, Cho.
And he had.
The battle with the Zenins had ended, and Choso Kamo had returned as the kingdom’s most celebrated warrior. It’s whispered to this day amongst the palace staff how he’d kicked off his saddle in town, run past all the bubbling celebrations- straight to the royal palace where he’d waded past the congratulating courts and straight to you—
All in platonic friendship, of course.
Of course.
But you suppose it didn’t help quell the rumors when Choso rejected your father, the King’s, offers of estates and riches. Of lifetimes of luxury. He’d stood before the royal court and bowed his head, having only one request of the monarch: to be your personal knight. Forevermore until he breathes.
And how could one say no to the turning point of the battle?
And thus, he’d become your knight. Yours.
You suppose it was around this time that the letters had started, too…
You clutch this morning’s letter to your chest and breathe in the smell of fresh ink, leather, and the faintest hint of summer vanilla that dripped off of the page. It was always this scent that followed your admirer’s ardent declarations, and soon enough every time you passed the gardens or poked at a vanilla dessert, you couldn’t help but think of him.
A knock interrupts your thoughts and you startle.
Pushing the letter carefully underneath your pillow, “Come in.”
The towering double doors of your bedroom had small gilded swirls on it, which, if you stepped back, melded together to form an image that looked like the clouds above. Frothing and tumbling and swirling. Heaven itself. How oddly poetic that through these gates of heaven would walk in Choso Kamo, his knight’s armor catching the rays of morning sunlight.
His visor was pushed up to reveal his face.
His features were sharp and handsome.
His doe-like brown eyes were the envy of the courts.
He looks at you in your thin nightgown and flushes- “Y-your Highness—!”
Choso’s armor clanks and clutters as he hurries to turn away from you, and soon enough you find yourself staring at the knight’s broad back. Chiselled after so many years of training. Bringing a hand up to your lips you have to stifle a giggle at the sheer contrast- “My dearest knight, does it disgust you to gaze upon me like so?”
“Th-the furthest thing from it, Your Highness.” He sputters, and you swear you catch the back of his neck - just the slightest slit you could see between his armor plates - burning bright red. Blushing.
“Do you believe me of unsound character, then?” You challenge, “Do you believe me a harl-”
“Bear not the thought!”
“Then turn.”
He does—barely. Just enough degrees that you can see his handsome side profile, and he can stare at you through his peripheral vision- though that, too, is largely obscured by his helmet. “Forgive me…” Choso gulps. “-but the mere sight of you is not suited to be gazed upon by this lowly knight, my princess.”
“You have been within ames-ace of Yaga for far too long.” You tut.
But you’re still reaching for the gold-laced robe draped over the edge of your bed - your attendants had placed it there last night. Choso was always the first to greet you in the morning.
And it’s only once he’s completely sure that the robe now covered the beautiful angles and curves of your body, that is obscured from him what is Eve’s most beautiful apple, does he turn to face you. Only to find that he had spent so long mustering up the courage, that you’d already dipped underneath your pillow and pulled out-
“Yet another letter, Your Highness?” Choso queries, and you nod.
It was requisite that such an occurrence must be shared with your personal knight - most of all, your friend. And you didn’t feel the need to hide it from Choso as you did with your parents—perhaps because you knew his duty was to you, above all. You above the crown. “Oh, you shan’t believe it- today they wrote the most romantic line about how their heart beats simply to count their time beside me—”
Choso gives a jerky nod, “And the flower?”
“As always.” You’re pinching the little flower where it had been laid safely on top of your decadent pillow, showing it to him.
Your best friend takes one look at it and breaks out into an almost…relieved smile. “I see- he really is a stubborn old fool, isn’t he?”
“Oh, don’t call him a fool.” You huff. Turning away with your flower, “I think he’s just lovely.”
“Suppose he is a fool?” Choso probes, “Suppose he isn’t of great wits- would you still think he’s lovely?”
You furrow your brows at him, “But, of course. Intelligence cannot be measured by how many dusty books you read. Despite that, I believe that one would be of rather sound wits should they wish to compose letters this beautiful.”
There’s a pause. “Then suppose he isn’t rather pleasant to look at?”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” You counter stubbornly. “I think that I should find them quite beautiful either way.”
“Then suppose he’s a commoner?”
“That is the last thing I would fuss about-”
“But what if he’s a…” Choso starts- and as you wait for him to finish—he shakes his head. Giving you a light bow, “I apologize for getting carried by the conversation, Your Highness. I have just been reminded of my orders to urge you into prompt preparation to receive some very special guests today. I have summoned your ladies-in-waiting, they are stationed at the third royal baths.”
“Guests?” You ask. The palace always did have a constant flow of royals and nobles and merchants and people of the public going in and out, and rarely did you have to make a personal accompaniment with them. “What special guests may we—”
It’s then that you look at your calendar of quarter days: social days and tutoring days, and a day circled in rouge.
Today.
“Ah…”
.
.
.
Dearest gentle reader,
Royal gossip has always been the lifeblood of the Ton—particularly this year, with the debut of our Royal Highness, the princess, this social season. Rumors have been a-swirling for quite some time now, speculation about just which eligible gentleman will be lucky enough to win over the beautiful royal’s hand in marriage: perhaps a fair noble, perhaps the richest merchant of the land, perhaps a prince from a far-away land. The possibilities are endless!
Our dignified royal family has always been rather private about such matters regarding their princess, but today this humble writer is here to put these whispers to rest, my dear reader.
My most trust-worthy sources inform me of a royal fleet that has docked in our harbor early in the morrow—a fleet with none other than the Zenin family insignia upon its flag!
Now, before you fear another military skirmish with the ever-ruthless Zenin family, gentle reader, let me assure you that my insiders state this royal visitation to not be an act of warfare. Rather…of romance.
Some claim an age-long betrothal, some claim a political marriage in the works.
The cauldron of curiosity bubbles even further once you learn that the Zenin family, including His Highness Naoya Zenin, shall be paying a royal visit to the palace today! And some members of the royal knights claim they shall take extra precaution, and that Her Highness’s personal guard - a handsome young knight by the name of Choso Kamo - is to be with her at all times. Ooo la la!
It will certainly make it difficult for either Prince Naoya nor any other…admirer to get close to the princess (the palace walls talk, gentle reader, and some of my sources claim the presence of a second interest in Her Highness’s life—secret letters being hand-delivered every single night!)
But that is neither here nor there, and your writer is certainly not planning a visit to the royal dungeons in the near future!
Yours Truly,
Lady Whistledown.
.
.
.
“—such a beautiful garden-” Naoya’s lip curls as he looks out of the tall, sun-lit window at the rolling field below. Your parents barely have enough time to open their mouths in response before he continues, “-but of course, ours is much larger. Second only to our stables and the incredible militia grounds that we have-”
Everyone in the meeting hall closes their mouth, quenches their hope for speaking at least for the next twenty-five minutes.
You learn within the first few moments of meeting him that Naoya Zenin liked hearing his own voice, and any time he wasn’t, he was replaying his own voice over and over inside his head. You also learn that you don’t like him in the slightest.
Which makes being betrothed to him all the more difficult.
It had been a political alliance- or so your father had briefed you one night several months ago. Calling you into his office, holding your hand, he had let you cry on his shoulder for the first time in years that night.
To unite two people who had been locked in a bloody border war for far too long - that was your duty.
And this marriage was the key.
It had been long enough to let the finality of it sink in, and not nearly as long enough for it not to sting. Still. It hurt like a hot iron embedded in your heart once you had to curtsey for the prince.
He had barely bowed back.
And now the two royal families - as well as several esteemed members of your council - were spread out in the grand meeting hall. Watching as the blond-haired royal turned his nose up at the plate of intricate desserts offered to him by a male attendant—he flicks his hand at the boy and orders the woman standing beside him to do it.
The woman being no one else but the most talented healer in all the land.
Shoko Ieri looks ready to stab him with her scalpel.
“Compensating.” A low whisper sounds from behind you.
You don’t have to turn to know that it’s Choso- but you do anyway. And your heart flutters just a little as you spy his warm brown eyes through the gaps of his visor, “Pardon?”
He repeats, “Compensating.” Nodding towards Naoya who had now roped your mother into a spiel about his armory.
“—we boast the largest swords in the entire world, you see.” Naoya was bragging in his grating tone, and your poor mother could only nod. “The best- the biggest. Any old cod can claim that size doesn’t matter and yet our biggest swords are-”
You can’t help it - you catch Choso’s eye and you both have to force yourselves from bursting into a fit of chuckles.
Both turning into each other.
Your hand clutching Choso’s arm for support.
Choso’s gentle hum of laughter breezing the top of your head.
Only too late do you realize that everyone in the room had their eyes turned to you - each in varying degrees of horror at the proximity between a princess and her knight. Except for Shoko who had gone from glowering at the prince to looking somewhat…knowing.
Damn you, Shoko—you’re half-heartedly cursing her out in your head as you straighten up. Trying not to flinch as Choso follows and takes a step backwards to stand behind you.
As a knight is told to be.
You can’t see the expression on Choso’s face nor his demeanour, but what you do know is the familiar creaking of metal as your best friend sags in on himself. Almost shielding himself from the world underneath all that armor.
Perhaps from it.
You notice that he always did so whenever someone in court made his place known: whenever they flickered their eyes between the two of you, whenever they pushed their noble sons to greet you, whenever they questioned just why a knight was allowed to even look at the princess like so.
He took it all to heart. Crumpled it up inside, and in doing so he crumpled that beating thing as well.
You wanted to say something—but you knew you couldn’t.
And, of course, it’s Naoya who speaks first. “Hmm, once we are wed then I shall have to make sure that such a thing is not repeated.”
“There is no such thing to speak of.” You speak through a grit smile.
“So you say—” He takes a bite of a puff pastry and places it back on the golden plating, “-but as your husband, it is I who shall have the final say.”
Yell strangled in your throat, you take a step forward-
Only for your father to sense the growing tension and ease his way in, “So is that to say a royal wedding might be on the horizon?”
Naoya takes his sweet time answering, “Well…” Looking straight at you as he contemplates, he wipes off a bit of leftover vanilla cream from the edge of his lip and flicks it. “That is what I’m saying, Your Majesty.”
Your father claps his hands heartily, “Send for the wedding preparations right away—! Oh, and draft the announcement for the-”
But you don’t hear a single word.
It feels numb.
It feels like something’s buzzing inside of your head.
You’re unsteady on your feet until a cold metallic hand reaches out and clasps hold of you.
You know it’s Choso and you do not let go.
.
.
.
Your heart aches at the letter you receive on the morning afterwards: the morning of the official announcement.
“My dearest princess, cry not.
Cry not—for a single drop of your tears is worth more than all the raindrops in heaven, all the rays of sunlight kissing the Earth, and all the beats of my heart.
It has been running rattle-brained, foolishly wild, these past few hours as I stagger upon the thought that I may lose you. Not that this lowly admirer had you in the first place, my dearest princess, you must forgive me for my presumption. But in every little way in which you are mine, I gain to lose you still.
Cry not for a man that should not cry for you, my dearest princess. Cry not for a man that cries for you still.
And I…above all I am a selfish man. I am a selfish man—utterly selfish—and should all the world’s laws be up to me, then you and I, should you wish it, would have been married four summers past.
Alas, I am overruled.”
You’re dressed for the public.
And once you’re escorted to the royal balcony where all palace announcements are conducted, you look up from the ground just in time to see Yuji catch Choso’s eye. The long-haired man behind you shakes his head.
Though you’re not quite sure what it means, it somehow makes you feel all the more worse.
.
.
.
Dearest gentle reader,
Though it is not in good manners for a lady to gasconade, allow this writer here to tell you that I had proclaimed so—a royal wedding is forthcoming!
You have read that right, dear reader!
Don your best silks and gather your best florals, for soon her Royal Highness, the princess, shall be wed to Prince Naoya Zenin. According to what was proclaimed at the most recent palace announcement, a grand wedding is to take place in a week’s time, immediate after the Royal Diamond Ball, to celebrate the union. Though experts speculate that this marriage is likely of political origins rather than the heart-fluttering romance that some think, one thing is for certan—His Highness, Naoya Zenin, certainly seemed to take the affair in stride.
Witnesses to the official announcement claim that the prince simply couldn’t keep the smile off of his face at the thought of his beautiful new bride (though others claim that it’s due to his imminent rise to the throne thereafter, as he isn’t the first heir to the Zenin Family—however, you didn’t hear that from me, dear reader!)
Others at the site were more entranced by none other than the princess’s trusty personal knight - Choso Kamo was expectedly standing guard beside Her Highness. But what caught the attention of eagle-eyed onlookers was rather the…expression upon his handsome face.
You could not pay me to name a more heart-broken man, dear reader! You could not!
Perhaps this is an omen of how the wedding preparations are being handled behind the curtains? Perhaps this is an omen of…something more?
This writer has a personal inkling about the reasons as to why knight Choso might have looked at Her Highness with nothing less than sorrow (did somebody say tears in his eyes?)
And amongst this roulette of wishful men I know you’re asking me—but Lady Whistledown, what of the princess’s secret admirer?
Well—you’ll be happy to know that I come with reliable insight that the secret delivery of love letters has yet to cease! Yes, gentle reader, this particular admirer seems quite passionate in their affections. Even going so far as to send one just after the announcement. Should the letters have yet to halt now, one can only imagine whether they shall stop even after the royal wedding.
The prince. The admirer. The knight (perhaps?) How can one choose?!
Yours Truly,
Lady Whistledown.
.
.
.
“Big brother-”
“No-”
“Big brother, I simply state that-”
“Quiet, Yuji.”
Choso’s tone comes out harder than he’d intended, and his chest clenches at the wounded look in the younger boy’s eyes. Without wasting a single second, and without looking to see if anyone was nearby, he’s lunging forwards and embracing the boy into his arms.
Holding him just as he had when they were children and the pink-haired one would fall and bruise himself- though the only one that feels bruised right now is Choso.
It had been a week since the wedding announcement.
And all preparations had been in full swing: enough so that between all the dress-fittings, and the flower-pickings, and the guest-greetings, Choso hadn’t even had the time to exchange a proper conversation with you. Not that he was in the place to - especially not anymore.
Tonight was the Royal Diamond Ball of the season, where one Diamond shall be picked, always taking place inside the palace.
Except, this time, it had doubled in both extravagance and guest-list due to the simple fact that tonight was also the grand ball before your wedding. Tomorrow morning you would walk down the aisle in a dress of white.
Tomorrow morning you will be another’s wife.
He hugs his younger brother tight, “Yuji, I apologize for my brash words-”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” Yuji finally breaks the hug, “I was simply careless with my own words.”
“You were not-”
“I just don’t understand why you can’t be happy- why both of you can’t be happy. Together.” He looks away, eyes filling with tears he knows wouldn’t encompass even the tiniest fraction of what his brother has shed over this very reason. “It’s just not fair.”
“Some things…some things are meant to be the way they are.” Choso stares ahead at the gilded hallway spread out before him, “We must simply persist.”
Yuji looks as though he wants to say something more- but at that very moment, the doors to your royal chamber are opening. The two knights had been stationed there until you were fussed-over and all dolled-up for the Royal Diamond Ball tonight - the last as an unwed princess. The last before you were bound to Naoya Zenin.
And looking at you now, Choso thinks that it would’ve been worth it to cut down the wedding and all its procession for you.
Because there wasn’t a word to describe you.
The soft champagne of the taffeta draped over your shoulders and puffed up fashionably at your arms, cascading down in a waterfall of expensive silks up to your ankles. Following were glistening pearls that only brought out the beauty of the dress - your beauty - wrung at the edges of your hem and necklines. Delicate bracelets where your hands were gloved. A singular diamond hanging from your neck. And of course—your tiara.
It weighed heavily on your head.
Your ladies-in-waiting had dabbed on a bit of glittering rouge on your lips.
It was all that Choso could stare at.
You weren’t just bound to be the Diamond of the season, you were a diamond from the night sky. And he’s still trying to find a word to describe you that he knows wouldn’t come close, not even in a hundred of his l—
“Choso?” You cock your head gently at him. Trying not to bite down on your lower lip in nervousness and smear your attendants’ hard work, “Is something the matter-”
“Enchanting.” He blurts out- but that wasn’t enough. Would never be enough.
You look at him with slightly widened eyes, and he wouldn’t take the word back anyway. He looks at you and says in a more firm tone, “You look enchanting, my princess.”
You try - and fail - to bite back a smile—and ultimately end up swatting him on his armored chest. “Enchanting? Do not think that flattery shall stop me from forcing you into a dance tonight.”
“Ah—foiled again!” He dramatically looks to the skies.
“Fool.” You joking strike him again - Choso had dressed up for the occasion as well. His armor had been polished until it shined like a mirror, reflecting your own two ogling eyes back at you. Even the hilt of his blade looked deathly sharp.
He’d pushed his visor up and that gave you a glimpse of those two doe-like eyes, chestnut brown and warm. He was staring at you in a way that made you squirm.
Though Lady Whistledown’s society papers tended to use pretty prose, what they hadn’t lied about was this. Just how handsome he was.
“P-perhaps we ought to make our entrance.” You say.
And he nods in understanding, “We ought to—” But, what Choso realizes, is that he doesn’t understand at all.
And his breath hitches as you clutch onto his right arm with both hands. Attaching yourself against his side- how he wished he could feel the warmth of your body through his armor-
“These shoes are far too tall.” You fail to meet his eyes, “Forgive me, but if I could use a bit of support until-”
“Anything you want, my princess.” He breathes.
Your actual entrance into the grand ball is a blur - you’ve attended far too many of these in far too short a time before. It’s the crunch of velvet carpet underneath your too-tall shoes, and the strangely burning sensation of all eyes being directed at you.
At the way you were still holding onto Choso.
You distance yourself from him silently, and he falls in step behind you. The master of ceremonies announces your name even though everyone here already knows it. The staircase is never-ending and unrelenting, each step louder than the thundering of your heartbeat, a staccato of what feels like your own unravelling.
You’re slightly off-kilter as you reach the end- before a hand shoots out to help you.
You grasp onto the man’s calloused hand gratefully, looking up to realize that it was Yaga.
“Watch your step, Your Highness.” He helps you stand and wade through the crowd. As the head knight, Yaga had the freedom to forgo the armor tonight. It was a strong navy blue, nearly the entire chest of it covered in numerous medals and colors - warning off keen-eyed nobles from nearing.
You catch sight of Naoya surrounded by ladies-in-wait by the feast-
Yaga’s voice breaks through, “What is it that’s on your mind, Your Highness?”
“Nothing.” You answer instantly, “It’s just- it must be pre-wedding jitters.”
“I see…” He looks at you intensely, and you feel as though he can see right through you. Know right through what you’re really feeling. “Then in that case, all is well, correct?”
“Correct.”
He almost smiles, “And you are ready to be wed to His Highness Naoya, correct?”
“C-correct.”
“And you shall be thinking of a certain knight- or a certain admirer on the altar, correct?”
“Correct-” You falter, “Excuse me?”
“Ah—it seems the orchestra is commencing.” Yaga looks into the distance where the violin players had started easing in soft trills, as if music itself had waited for your arrival. “Now, my back is certainly too weathered for such dances- but I shall hold you with me no longer, Your Highness.” He turns to you and gives you a gentle smile, “Go—have your first dance.”
You almost plead, “But with who?” Naoya was still…occupied with all the court ladies- not that you would ever in a million years want to dance with Naoya Zenin in the first place-
“Whoever your heart may desire.” Yaga interrupts your thoughts, letting go of your hand- though not before pressing in something delicate and flat into it. He looks somewhere behind you—“A letter, asked of me to hand to you. I only implore that you stay as true to your heart, as he is to you.”
As Yaga disappears into the crowd starting to twirl in their tulle skirts—you open that little piece of paper up.
A short message.
“My dearest princess,
Steps behind you, a vision I do not deserve to see.
The most enchanting girl in the world to me.”
Enchanting.
The paper nearly falls out of your hand, and you can only look behind you - to where Choso Kamo was refusing to meet your eyes. His metallic visor was down and you couldn’t help but step closer.
Uncaring what they say as you’re reaching out and fastening it upwards- “Is this your penmanship, my dearest knight?”
He does not answer.
“Do you think I look enchanting, my dearest knight?”
He does not answer.
“Does your heart beat solely for me, my dearest knight?”
He does not answer.
“Do you not wish for me to be married—” At that, he flinches like a wounded animal. And you already know that he most certainly won’t be answering that question. Which is why you’re answering instead, “For I feel much the same towards you.”
He snaps his head up, glittering brown eyes pleading down at you. He breathes…“Of which sentiment?”
You smile, “All of it.”
“A-and the marriage-” Choso takes a jerky step towards you, his armor creaking like the weight of dungeon chains. “The alliance-”
“May I have this first dance?” You simply reach your hand out.
And as the music crescendos, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of your head. Letting you lead into a golden floor.
Gasps deafen the ballroom music.
.
.
.
The Ton was a-flutter and a-ripe with scandal as you spent your first dance at the Royal Diamond ball with your knight instead of your betrothed. At least, that’s what you imagine - the truth is that you’d been too entranced with Choso Kamo to even pay attention.
He’d held you gently - so gently - as though his large hands could break you at any given moment.
And Choso had never let his eyes stray from your figure as he twirled you around the ballroom. He would have cared about the whispered- he should have…but how could he when he had the most enchanting girl in the world in his arms?
Too soon- your dance was cut short by an arm on Choso’s shoulder. Stopping him.
You’d both turned to face Naoya Zenin, furious spit lining the edges of his lips. He had barked out a formal order for the knight to step aside and hand him your dance- and though Choso’s hand had gone to his sword…
You’d shaken your head at him.
It was a half-dance with Naoya (of which you’d excused yourself feigning networking duties) and a hastened walk to the edge of the ballroom. Right where Choso Kamo was attempting to blend into the gilded ballroom.
You’d nodded discreetly at him and he already knew—
With Yaga suddenly causing a commotion- accidentally spilling his red wine on Lady Mei Mei’s dress, no one had noticed the two of you slipping out after the second dance. Before the Diamond was announced.
He followed you silently, two steps behind as a knight should, all the way up to your royal bedroom.
It was only once you’d reached your towering double doors that you took Choso by hand- all but dragging the handsome knight inside. And though he’d squawked in surprise, you’d merely looked at your best friend with determined eyes.
“Take me, Choso.”
He gasps. His shudders.
He was going to ruin the princess.
CLANK!
CLANK!
CLANK!
CLANK!
Choso’s heavy armor fell to the ground—
CLANK!
The last of it before the knight scoops his strong arms underneath your legs and hoists you up into that princess carry you’ve read about in every fairy tale. Choso walks you gently over to the expansive bed, before setting you down and laying you all flat—
“Why’re you by the foot of the bed, Cho?” You’re huffing down at the man who was now pressed against the mahogany bedframe. He had his knees down on the soft carpet, kneeled at your feet. Grabbing onto one of Choso’s toned arms - still in a gauzy white poet’s shirt that had been worn underneath his armor - you attempt futilely to pull him upwards. “Come lay with me.”
Looking away with a blush. “Why…have you really not the faintest idea, my dearest princess?” Hearing those words from his mouth sends shivers down your spine.
He looks at you with dark, half-lidded eyes. Hands spreading your thighs apart and sliding down the sides of your legs. Beneath those customary layers of silk. Choso’s hands keep roaming, and there’s a sudden rush of heat pulsing down to your core once you register his fingertips scraping the edge of your undergarments.
Mouth falling slightly agape.
“I-It’s only customary to give the lady a kiss before the dance—”
You’re gasping as your brain registers the innuendo- but not before Choso dips his mouth down and gives your cunt a looooong kiss through your sodden panties. Open-mouthed and hot.
He draaaaags the tip of his tongue down your slit n’ tastes you for the first time. Letting a single droplet of your syrupy slick end up splashin’ on his tongue- and he fucking moans. Loud.
Just so husky and attractive that it makes your body buck up into him without even realizing.
And it’s all that Choso needs to let go of his inhibitions. It’s all that he needs to hold both your wrangling thighs down and press himself even deeper against your aroused cunt. Nose-deep. Chest heaving in such guttural puffs.
It’s as if the knight didn’t even need to breathe as long as he could reach deeper against your sopping slit. So wet that he’s feeling your puffy pussylips through the fabric of your underwear- he slashes his tongue between your folds and makes you rut-
“Wh-what is this feeling…ngh.” Unable to help but pipe up in a shrill tone, you struggle to keep your hand pressed against your noisy mouth.
And he doesn’t even answer.
He can’t.
He’s lurching his mouth back and forth at a frenzied pace—crazed. Licking his tongue all over the inches of your cunt he could reach, rubbin’ his ridged tastebuds up and down the swollen outer part of your pussy.
You were just so damn soaked that it almost felt as if there was no barrier between your pussy and his ravenous mouth at all. Gaping even wider open and heavily kissing your pussy, he was almost thrusting his face against your sensitive cunt-
“Choso-” You gasp, your breaths all dampened. Hands weaving through his long brown hair for dear life. “Choso oh heavens—”
It was just too enchanting how your voice broke on the very last syllable of your sentence. And Choso can’t deny that it makes something carnal deep inside him twitch- “My dearest princess.”
“O-oh…” And you certainly didn’t expect his murmuring tone to send vibrations running up your spine like that.
Breathy. “Is that good, my dearest princess?” Choso’s mouth waters at the way his words only seem to make you splosh out in even more slick—gushing. It trickles greedily down either side of his mouth like two slick rivulates. And you can’t help but snap your head down and think that he looked utterly drunk - gaze half-lidded, lips puffy and red, forehead beading with sweat from his movements. Kissing. “My dearest princess.” Heaving. “My dearest princess.”
“P—please—” You’re trilling out, your head falling into the pillows behind you. “Choso, heavens, I beg of you to c-catch your breath-”
“And yet does it feel good, princess?”
That broken lil’ sentence of his punctuated by the most sloppy slash between your pussylips- smearin’ them apart and accurately pinpointing your clit. With the flexible tip of his tongue he presses inwards against that soft spot and makes you see stars.
Sends your hips rutting furiously against his pretty face, and your moans roaring. “Damn—fuck.” His cock throbs at the way he’d made such a poised, perfect princess break her demeanor. Swear- shit, he really was ruining you. “Fuck, yes- mmm, it feels so good.”
“Feels so good…what?” He’s rasping out.
And you have to blink through your film of tears down at him- “What?” He was now creating a rhythmic mwah of his lips down upon your clit - just lick upon lingering liiiiiick to drive you absolutely wild.
“It feels so good—” He’s groaning out straight into your cunt, already knowing that you’d be left all tender with his voice And just then you feel two pointed canines snag against your throbbing nub and almost…bite. “-who?”
“Choso—” So that was what he wanted all along? To have you hiccup and squeal his name as he draaaagged his lips from corner to corner of your leaky crevice and lapped up every ounce you gave? To have you absolutely shattered- “Choso-”
“Yeeees?” Alternating between snagging his honed canines down your clit n’ suckling on it.
Like his most favorite candy from the feast downstairs- and yet, you’d be the sweetest dessert out of them all. He was making out with your pussy just like it, too. “Choso- fuck, Choso I didn’t have the daftest idea that you could ever—mmm, it just feels too good.”
“Feels good?” He’s gutturally gasping, teeth scraping through your panties and creating little tears. Wrapping his pink lips ‘round your clit and hollowing his cheeks out of sheer force- “This feels good?”
“Yes-”
Nibblin’ his pearly whites down on your undergarments and tearing it down your slit. Swipin’ his tongue back and forth- “This feels—good-”
“Yes.” You gurgle out. It’s more and more.
It’s just the pinkish tip of his tongue that was proddin’ at your bundle of nerves. He slips it into a tiny hole town through your silken undergarments- and it’s enough to make your hips cleanly arch off the mattress. “Ch-Chosoooo—”
Choso’s darkened eyes flap wider open- “Suppose that feels even better, my dearest princess?”
And all he really wanted to do was make you numb with pleasure.
All he really wanted to do was slobber his mouth across that sweetened cunt of yours until he couldn’t even breathe- he’d be satisfied by the fact.
And Choso isn’t even thinking twice before he’s weighing down on one of the tears in your panties - something that he’d done with his very own mouth. Now his crowned fingertips were pushing against the delicate fabric and making it rip-rip-riiiiiiiiiip—!
Not even all the way through.
Just enough for two of Choso’s rightly thick fingers to seep through your undergarments and kiss your hole dead-on.
You flinch as he’s spreading your entrance with the most lecherous slurp! The knobbled ends of his digits pushing aside both your pussylips and simply aiming for that cutely leaking hole- how in heavens were you this wet? This tantalizing?
Tasty.
Choso reaches his slick-gazed fingers out of your cunt and raises it up to his vision - glimmering in the pale moonlight with all your candied liquids - he doesn’t hesitate before plopping them straight into his mouth. His eyes roll to the back of his skull and Choso moans as he tastes you-
“S-shoooo good—”
Fuck, was he slurring his words?
You’re raising up onto your elbows to question him, “Choso, did you just-”
But Choso doesn’t seem to hear- Choso doesn’t even seem to have anything running through his mind right now except for you and your pretty pussy. You and your pretty pussy.
You and your pretty pussy that gapes just as he pumps a few inches of his fingers inside - cunt getting glossed in your clingy slick once he squeezes his way inside. He’s feeling for the way your sopping wet walls glue to him like adhesive- stopping him briefly in his tracks before Choso’s stickin’ a thumb on top of your clit and making you take him.
“C’mon-” He hisses between clenched canines, brows furrowing down in concentration. “C’mon c’mon—it feels good. Doesn’t it, princess?”
“It does-” Hiccuping - trying and failing to buck your hips up for more. But the only thing you’re doing is succeeding in having Choso slip a hand up to grab your waist, pinning your body down to the squeaky mattress with such ease.
Your knight’s keeping your body on a damn leash while he fucks out a slooooow and sensual tempo between your legs. Just the fatness of each finger roverin’ deeper spots inside your walls, you swear you can feel out every single stretch. “Easy there, princess.” He knew his princess’s body better, it seems. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“It does but—fuck.” And just then Choso’s hooking his fingers in an incredible way that leaves your legs weak. Plumply pushing against one bunch of your nerves and sending shockwaves up to your brain. “Fuck, I want more, Choso.”
“Patience, Your Highness.” Choso spits out- literally. A dangling ribbon of saliva that clings onto your pussylips n’ makes it easier for the first inch or two of his digits to slip inside.
“But Choso—”
“Patience.” He hums, low vibrations. The space between your legs lets out the most lecherous loud squelches as he’s probin’ in and out. Watching as your swollen pussylips stretch out aaaaaaaall wide open-
He curls his lengthy digits against the velvety roof of your cunt. Making you just twitch, he’s grinning his slick-lipped grin. “I know you’re all needy right now, princess. But you need to learn to take it loooong and slow—” Emphasizing it by dragging his puffy digits along your walls and scissoring them multiple times. “-like that, see? That feels good, hm?”
“It does, but…” You pout.
Choso’s long lashes quiver, eyes widening slightly. “But?” Slightly crazed.
“But I want- hck!” Further pushing your slobberin’ cunt against his features, you’re dragging your most sensitive bits along his faces and shivering as it grazes his prominent nose. Desperately yowling, “But I want more-”
“Then command it.”
You snap your eyes open, “P-pardon?”
“Then command it.” But it still doesn’t sound real in your ears- ringing with pressure from his fingers slipping in and out. Hitting almost every spot you wanted him to—almost. He latches his mouth ‘round your clit once more and- he doesn’t suck. No.
Choso’s sinking his teeth into that perfect lil’ nub and draaaaagging it right out a centimeter or two until you scream. Fluttering his pretty lashes, “Aren’t you the princess, my dear?” Barely even waiting for your answer before your cunt squelches with a third one of his fingers- “Aren’t I your knight? Go on—command me.”
“P-please-” And Choso gnaws his teeth down even more meanly to stop you from using your royal manners. Until all you can do is bend your spine into the perfect curvature and puuush- grabbing onto his sweaty locks with absolutely no mercy. “Choso, I order you to go harder.”
His cock has never been harder.
He’s not even giving you a warning before thwacking! a strike with three globular fingertips, all the way at the very gooey bottom of your pussy. Rasping. “Harder?”
“Faster.” You barely gasp. “Choso, I-I order you-”
“Faster?” As if the only thing he can do when he’s so focused on fucking your pussy in harsh, thumpin’ hammers is that mantra of your words. “What else? What else, my liege?”
“Leige…” Bouncing your hips up, up, up—you might be too gone on his perfectly girthy fingers to realize the way you were swervin’ your waist to and fro. Just letting his lengthy fingers navigate the slick maze inside of you, plump fingertips spearheading inside like a spotlight and curving against every spot.
But Choso notices.
Of course, he notices.
He’s noticed every single thing about you, silent and stoic at your footsteps, for years. Always looking. Always admiring from afar—and he knows when you want something. “What else do you wish for, my princess? What else makes your pussy- hngh, feel good?”
“I want you to h-hit that one spot-” You’re blubbering through your constant tears. Moving your hips just to the side so that his curvaceous fingers were nearing where you wanted him the most. “So close—oh.”
“Never tell me to do anything twice, Your Highness.” He mutters, tone shot. “I’m always at your service.”
And he was.
And he was shovin’ his fingers - almost thickened with how long they’d been inside you - straight against that bundle of your nerves. Against that crevice you’d heard dubbed as your g-spot from that scandalous literature hidden away at the back of the library…
And when Choso had found that particular spot, he was hitting it like a madman—
Once. Twice. Thrice.
The way he’d memorized just where it was and mapped out every single inch of space inside you was dizzying. The way he’d leave a few sultry split-seconds to twirl his bulbous fingertips against your g-spot before reeling back and thud-thud-thudding. “It feels good, right?”
He was back to that familiar mantra and it was sending zaps of power down your spine to realize just how breathy he sounded. Just how smoky. Just how shattered.
Choso was eating you out like he was going crazy with every lick up your weepin’ pussy crevice. Uuuuup and down and fightin’ against his very own fingers to stick the edge of his tongue inside your quivering hole. “It feels so-” You’re gripping onto the strands of his hair stupidly, “So good-” Tears freely flowing down your cheek with just how many times he was mercilessly forcing his way against your sweetest spots. Your most favorite. “So good- so good- sooo good—”
You smack your hips up in a sloppy drag down Choso’s face and he moans.
“Choso, you’re just the best—”
And that? Those particular words are just about enough to make his red-hot, achingly hard erection pulse once. Twice.
Beading out a silky trickle of cum that darkens his thick pants.
Before he’s frankly quite sure that he might be on the verge of cumming- and such a valiant knight could never cum before his lovely princess, now, could he? Not daring to be so selfish, Choso heightens the pleasure and pressure until his tongue looked like nothing but a strawberry-pink blur lickin’ into every nook and cranny of yours. Slap-slap-slapping down on your clit.
And his fingers were fucking into you so hard- so ruthlessly. Viciously banging your g-spot like a constant bullseye and Choso was an expert at archery. Didn’t you know?
He doesn’t slow down - doesn’t dare to - even once your drenched walls start convulsing around him in a staccato. Even once you open your mouth in a soundless scream.
Even once you start to cum—
And Choso had never smiled wider in his entire life than he does right now with his lips glued to your pussy. Salivating. Tongue strokin’ your clit through every peak of your high- “C-cumming, Choso.” You pant out tearily. “And I can’t seem to stop…”
“You don’t have to.” Right on cue he bangs a roughened thrust just against your g-spot. Leaving you throbbing and aching for more.
And everything ‘more’ that you want - Choso’s more than happy to give.
Your loyal knight elongating your wave of bliss with his slick fingers. The perfect amount of thickness to stretch your walls but also leave you keening at his rapid pace- he pinpoints each tender point of your orgasm and thrashes against your nerves right at that exact moment.
Again.
And again and again.
And again—until your high makes you see white-hot stars behind your closed eyelids. Planting sloppy drags down his face right in synchronization, “Any longer and I don’t believe I shall cum any more, Choso.”
“As long as it feels goooood, princess.” He gurgles out, “Heh, so good that your body can’t cum anymore.”
“I-I don’t believe it works like- fuck.” Lips soiled with tears and saliva. Glazed. Doesn’t matter how much you’re running your voicebox ragged, because Choso doesn’t even slow down- not even when he’s fucked you through your orgasm and letting it taper out into mere tingles.
Shots of power. Vulgar strokes barely even starting to falter as you begin to feel so utterly raw n’ overstimulated. “But Choso, I want…”
“Hmmmm?”
He sounds so gone on your pussy that you know merely asking nicely won’t make Choso latch off. Experimentally, you’re tugging on his sweat-drenched bangs and he doesn’t even budge-
“Choso Kamo.” You’re starting out, struggling to keep your voice steady. And yet at the tone of your voice, Choso flinches as though he already knows- “As your princess, I order you to just fuck me already.”
He takes a few seconds to detach from your pussy.
Pulling away his sticky slick-glazed lips with a superior squeeelch! And Choso stares up at you with dark, half-lidded eyes. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
His ruined voice sends shivers across every inch of your body.
A body that he’s now plastering his hands onto and all but tearing through your soft layers- like butter underneath his strong hands. He’s ripping your silken gown straight through the middle, “I shall summon the tailor first thing tomorrow morning.” Choso grunts, already reading that expression on your face. “Worry not- your next dress shall be white, my princess.”
“Wh-white…” You breathe out, feeling light-headed at the implication.
Before you know it, all Choso has unhooked your half-corset and left you all exposed for him. For him to ravenously sweep his eyes down. For him to gaze upon every inch of you and gulp- was his mouth watering just at the sight of you naked?
But you’re not left too long to ponder upon the thought before Choso starts shrugging off his gauzy shirt and trousers. He’s letting the buttons pop open—pop! pop! pop! And displaying such a firm chest chiselled with prominent pecs, further down along were naturally ripped abs and the most sensual happy trail.
All dark and slightly unruly where it dips juuuust below his pants hemline.
Choso flattens his thumb against those golden buttons and lets himself spring free- and oh.
Oh.
You have to bite back a gasp out of sheer manners, though it should be rather obvious that you were ogling him. All about seven or eight inches of him- maybe more. Definitely more.
The cutest blushin’ pink at his tip, growing slightly more pale towards the base.
Glistening shaft. Heavy balls. He’s decorated with more veins than you might’ve imagined from him, and he’s so hard that each time they twitch his erection flinches in mid air. Fuck…Choso’s just so long and rock-hard that his puckered pink tip jumps upwards and smears a swipe of glistening sap across his abs. It glares at you like a smirk, and Choso sleazes out a smile right back.
Letting his head fall backwards once he gives his long cock a good pump.
“Oh…” He’s swearing underneath his breath, edging in closer on two capped knees. Those meaty thighs of his were just irresistible - all meaty and milky and flexing.
The slight muscles in his legs twitch as he inches closer to you on the bed. Cornering you against the headboard, Chose wields his swollen tip cloooose between your legs- kissin’ your puffy pussylips. Just a single swipe. “Fuck.”
And that’s all it takes for Choso Kamo to break on your pussy.
Head hanging downwards. Long locks covering his face. The entirety of his body fucking lurching- he’s messily creaming down your slit with copious amounts of cum.
Scorchin’ hot and sticking to you like adhesive.
It dribbless between your folds and enters your hole just the sliiiightest bit - already enough to start sploshin’ inside you and make you feel stuffed to the brim. You’re squirming at the unfamiliar sensation—and what does Choso do?
He’s reeling his hips back and rutting against you like a damn animal.
Unable to control himself. Merely pushing his fat cockhead between your pussylips and shoving- he groans at the way he couldn’t even fit the honed point of his very honed tip inside.
Just sliding lecherously past your pussylips and rubbin’ his veiny shaft down your front.
The only thing that that’s doing is grazing your clit and driving the man on top of you absolutely wild. He’s huffing through a pout as he looks down, “I want- ngh, I want to make it feel good for you, my princess. But it just won’t seem to fit.” Without much warning, he’s slithering his right hand down and scissoring open your snug hole. “Does this pretty pussy need me to s-stretch her out even more?”
“Oh—maybe.” You blubber out, looking at him through a heady gaze. “Choso…it’s my first time.”
And he knows he should expect it- fuck, he’s been at your side through every second of every day after you’ve come of age. He should already know by now.
His lips part, “Oh.”
“And I suspect it’s your first time, too?”
“It is…” Choso looks away bashfully, “My apologies, Your Highness, that I’m not experienced enough to perhaps give you the pleasure that you deserve-”
“Cho?”
He immediately shuts himself up, “Mhm?”
But instead of answering- you’re grabbing ahold of one of Choso’s muscular deltoids. It was just so plush and flexed as you moved him beneath you - flipping your positions over until his back hit the decadent mattress. And you’re clamoring on top of his slender hips, only slightly wobbly with the aftermath of your previous high.
All of Choso’s ivory sap dripped down your inner thighs and tried to glue them together. It was a treacly sheen that slid down his rock-hard abs.
And you’re gliding on top of him- draaaagging your swollen pussylips down his veiny shaft. A whimper lets out of your lips as his flared silt catches on your folds, “F-fuck—Cho, the court ladies told me about this particular position called, ahem- riding.”
He’s looking up at you with wide, heart-shaped eyes.
And your veins bubbled with molten embarrassment and need, “I’m going to ride you now, alright?”
“Yes-”
“Yes…what?”
Choso breaks out into the most sinful grin you think you’ve ever seen on him- “Yes, my liege.”
And that’s all it takes for you to perk your hips up just a lil’ bit and let Choso’s round orifice trace the outer rim of your hole. Just getting your body trained to the size - and even that is enough to make the man beneath you squirm.
To make him blush. To make him gasp.
To make him reach both quivering hands up and dig them into the globes of your ass- he’s jolting as though fighting with himself over letting you take your agonizing pace or humpin’ up into you like an animal.
Crying out—“Please. I need you so f-fucking bad.”
And you can pinpoint the exact moment that Choso’s husky voice breaks - all because you’re swerving your hips down and taking a gooood three or so inches of his fattened cock. Red-hot. Throbbing all the way deep inside of you.
The stretch was just so incredible that you’re seeing pure white- a primal moan ripping from your throat at the way he molded to your walls. Almost as if he was made for you.
He’s giving his first spurt of milky precum against your velvety channel, it drips down to your entrance and makes you twitch at the sensation.
Choso Kamo was ruining you from the inside and he wasn’t even trying yet.
Yet you’re still gasping- clawing onto his shoulders and then eventually down to his cushion-like pecs. Providing a firm hold for you as you’re trying to keep yourself balanced. Your mind muddled-
“Does- does it feel good yet, my princess?” Almost in the distance, you can hear Choso’s words echoing. They seem to rattle inside your emptied brain right now. “Does- does it- fuuuck—because it feels like heaven to me.”
“Shit, it feels so…” Your jaw drops agape, running out of words. Having him intruding at your innards like this wasn’t necessarily unpleasant- in fact, when he slightly rutted and rubbed against a few particular spots it almost felt unreal…
You’re keeping a firm grip on him and lightly bouncing your hips down - short, sloppy thrusts that give off a slurp! every time.
And Choso was giving off the prettiest little whimper every time you swallowed his solid tip. Just about two or three inches. “F-feels good?” He’s begging. Tears crinkle on the edges of his eyelids, and his lips wobble ever-so-slightly. “Feels good, right? Am I making my princess feel good?”
“So good.” You manage to gasp out. “Shit, I have yet to feel such pleasure with my fingers…”
“Being held at a degree higher than the fingers of my princess—?” He couldn’t believe it himself. And almost as though to confirm, Choso’s reaching over and lifting your dominant hand off of his pectoral. He brings it up to his mouth and gives it a long kiss, “Y-you cannot be serious.” Breathing in, as if to breathe in your essence. “The hands of my princess…”
Your jaw drops as his own does - opening wide enough to slip as few of your fingers inside and suck. “You’re more of a lecher than your innocent demeanour- ngh, lets on.”
“Only for you, Your Highness.”
And with your never-ending vulgar strokes, you’d managed to bully about half of Choso’s erection inside of you. It was a girth thick enough to stretch out hidden nooks n’ crannies inside you that you didn’t even know you had, and the perfect length to already be throbbin’ away by your g-spot…
You swivel your hips lightly enough to let his tip graze your most favorite spot- and you can’t help but fucking shake at the burst of sensations.
He’s hissing at the way you clench, “Oh, please-” Head falling backwards into the pillow in a dizzy haze. “D-does that little…squeeze mean it feels good?”
“Yes-” You gasp, “And it also means I ache for you more.”
Your best friend gulps, “Where?”
And it doesn’t take long for you to maneuver one of his calloused palms off of your hips and down to your stomach. Where it felt like he was so big that you could feel him from the outside—Choso presses down as he sinks in. “Here.”
That was almost enough to make him cum.
But Choso had already cum earlier - and it wasn’t a matter of not being able to stuff your pussy full all over again. He’s sure he could cream himself dry on your pussy. It was more so the fact that, in order to make up for it, he needed to make you cum at least twice more before finally finishing off himself.
One taste of your cunt clenchin’ around him and he’s feeling a tear slip down his cheek.
Almost subconsciously - body moving before mind - Choso arches off the comforter to probe his blushin’ tip deep inside you. “Shit- you just reached so deep, Cho.”
“Would you like me to take over, Your Highness?” Oh—how he loved the way that title rolled off of his tongue when he fucked you. His lowly body marking out your insides-
And he’d known you for so long by now.
He knew everything about you: every like, every dislike, every tell about your body. And he already knows from the hazy look in your peripherals that you’d been growing tired, thighs twitching any time you tried to messily bounce down on his cock.
Which is why one of Choso’s large hands cup your ass and start to help you fuck back into him- his muscules flexing mouth-wateringly every time he did so. Deeper and deeper. “Come on, my princess.” The hand on your stomach lifts off and glides down your pussy’s slit. Perfectly finding and pressing down on your knobbly clit - so sensitive. “Come on- fuck, let this loyal knight of yours make you feel good.”
“But the thing is…” You whimper out, head dropping down to look at the space between your legs. Like this, the size difference between your puckered hole and Choso’s thick cock. Growing even thicker before your very eyes. “-you’re just so damn big, Choso. Will it even fit?”
“I can make it fit.” He answers readily, as though the answer had already been on the tip of his tongue. For years, actually - all those long nights since becoming your personal knight. With only his hand and the image of you. He knows he’s fucking pathetic.
But he can’t bring himself to regret a single moment anyway. Because it’s only with that imaginary practice that he’s swervin’ his hips up to yours in slightly circular motions. “I can do anything for you.”
“Anything?”
He gasps out, “Anything for you, Your Highness.”
With his tongue stuck between his teeth, he’s crossing his brows and focusing on simply sensually fitting his cock inside. Uuuup with that big stretch.
Your head knocks backwards, “Ch-Choso—” Never been stretched like this before.
And then again with those rovering pushes.
“Choso.”
And again.
“Fuck-”
Choso wasn’t even answering any more - just couldn’t. He had his mind focused solely on one thing, and that was to pump all his generous inches inside you, which might be easier said than done considering how the longer he spent in contact with your pussy…the more pussydrunk he seemed to be becoming.
Until he was all but babbling—gasping, tearing up, fighting against the carnal resistance, holding onto you hard enough to leave nail marks all down your body. He was shovelling his ruddied cockhead with a thwack! against the very bottom of your pussy.
Bottomed-out.
You collapse down onto his chiselled chest with a strangled scream, feeling the metaphorical pop! of both your cherries. As well as the squirt of precum emptied out against your cervix-
The last thing you’re feeling before Choso’s leaving your entrance all sore.
Before he’s drilling up into you like a crazed man.
Fucking up into you with honed, deep thrusts - all the way from the globular edge of his shaft and then doooown until your clit scratches on the tufts of black hair at his base. He’s whacking your g-spot and then skidding right down until his puckered tip meets your womb. Rapid. Ravenous.
The bed creaks from the sheer pace of his movements, mingling with the shrill noises that you were letting out yourself. “So this is what it feels like- oh.”
Choso drags his right thumb down your pussy’s slit- that dewy spot of your clit being the perfect target for him to press down on. “This is what it feels like—” There’s such a dreamy quality to his words, languid and slightly slurred. “It feels like absolute heaven j-just-”
“Just?” You look up at your knight when he trails off.
Not expecting him to break out into the most sleazy smile. “Just having my innocence taken by the princess.” He says it in a way that sends shives down your spine - firm and possessive.
And even more possessive was the way that Choso thereafter clings a hold onto your waist and pulls you down to him. His abs shifting underneath you as he presses a kiss to your bitten lips—as he spits a wad of his saliva between them. “Taking the princess’s innocence- the whole kingdom should know that I r-ruined their perfectly innocent princess.” He’s gasping out, lost in the feeling of his entire engorged inches being suctioned by your walls. “That I made her- hah, pussy mine.”
“Choso—” Your eyes blow wide in shock and pleasure.
Because just then the hand teasin’ at your clit decides to jump straight to pinching right there.
It makes you twitch on top of him.
The pit of your stomach fizzling with something that feels good-
“Oh, but fear not, Your Highness.” He continues as if he isn’t just driving you wild. Ruining your insides with the constant, rhythmic squelching of his large cockhed—pushing and pushing. And pushing.
Choso stares up at you with a half-lidded gaze - direct eye contact even when he’s craning upwards to bite down on your left nipple. Dark lashes fluttering, “For every part of me is likewise yours.”
“Every part?” You shudder.
“Every part.” In emphasis, his cock throbs furiously inside you.
Succeeding in swervin’ in each glittering droplet of precum and slick and seed back in. He groans, “And you know you can ride this lowly knight as much as you want- as hard as you want.”
“I…” Your mouth feels as parched as a desert, “I would like that, my knight.”
Leaning slightly back on the bed, he’s letting you take more control. “Ride me- ride me dry, princess.” Just so achingly needy for you that you could almost taste it.
His salted-caramel taste sizzling at the back of your throat- his vanilla scent filling up your every other sense. You could now fit the pace to whatever you liked, “Sh-shit-” To whatever massaging rubs against your bundled nerves. “Shit—it’s almost t-too much. Impossible to believe.”
“Yeah? Feels good, doesn’t it?” Choso’s on board with his hand planted underneath your ass. Using a singular hand, he’s manhandling your hips up and down—up and down. Jerking you almost like a ragdoll down his incredible size, he lets every drop of his drivelling precum get sucked dry by your cute cunt. “Feels good riding your m-most loyal knight? Feels good making such a mess of me—oh?”
“It does.” You’re so stupid on his cock by now that you simply have to confess. “I—fuck, I must be true- it does.”
“Good.” Spittle drools down one edge of his lips. Choso Kamo wanted to be used.
He wasn’t letting you even bounce your hips away for a mere millisecond- always chasing the back of your pussy with his cockhead. He hisses, “Feels good just- fuck, being fucked by the very man sworn to protect you, hm? Feels good knowing that all those years I’ve wanted this- all this time, I’ve imagined it like some pervert—” Choso casts a glance around the grand room, “All the nights I was here. All the days I spent watching you. Feels good knowing that I would’ve died just for a taste of your sweet cunt, huh?”
Thumb faster n’ faster on your clit.
“Feels good knowing that I shan’t ever in this life, nor any others, even so much as look at another?”
And another one of his rugged hands lifts up from your thighs to cup your cheek - he lets you hold your own chasing your high. Slurping and swallowing his fat cock between your legs intensely, as Choso wipes away a stray tear cascading down your cheek.
“Feels good knowing that you have bewitched me—you and this damn- pretty pussy.”
“Yes-” You’re whimpering out loud enough for it to echo across these four gilded walls. Your mind being a complete mess. “Yes, yes, yes—and I’m gonna…”
“Fuck.”
He’s feeling it before you do once you finally crash into your high.
It’s your second of the night, and just because you’re slightly overstimulated from it doesn’t mean that Choso’s about to slow down. Instead, he’s drilling into you with achingly needy strikes - all vicious pumps against the spot of your nerves, and then nicely sliding down the back of your cervix. Over and over.
A long overarching wave of your orgasm- “Ch-Choso.” One that leaves your body limp and helpless to the way he crushes you against his beating chest. “Need you to cum inside, Choso.”
You’re pleasing up at him in a way that’s irresistible.
“Let your climax at least settle, impatient princess.” He’s lightly chuckling. Increasing his ministrations on your poor clit - only elongating your zaps of pleasure.
Until he seemed to be numbing your body completely with so many sensations, all bubbling through your veins and pouring out in the form of your sweetened slick. “But I want it.” You huff. “What if that was an order?”
“Oh, you really are my spoiled princess. Even after I’ve already given you m-my cock and two orgasms…and my heart.” He’s echoing out in a parched tone. Increasing and increasing the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you - until it you’re been fucked considerably past the twinges of your high.
Straight into another.
And it seemed to be exactly what Choso was waiting for- before he’s throwing his head back and cumming right in unison with you. “Fuuuuck- take it all.” Words trembling. “Take it all, my dearest princess, take it all from your knight.”
And you can feel him empty it out inside you.
His heavy balls twitching with the looong stripes of sap he was flooding out, they splosh against each of your crevices. Pumped deeper inside with every thrust. The smell of his arousal just twitches something dark and carnal within you- and you’re pushing your face into the crook of his neck. Inhaling that soft vanilla accent.
So in contrast with the pelvis slamming against yours, hard enough that his skin starts to redden. The sheer force of it is enough to make you flinch back - and enough for him to hold onto your body in any way he can and pin you down to his front.
Unable to escape, you can only whine at the way he fucks you through his high. “Oh my…” Your mouth starts to water. No novel or scandal sheet had ever described this before. “Ch-Choso you’re the best.”
And you swear that only makes him cum harder.
So much of it that it begins to trickle out of your hole almost immediately- something that Choso certainly couldn’t have.
So he swipes his thumb down from your clit and starts swabbin’ those wads back inside.
“I ache for you.” He’s whimpering out, big bulbous tears glimmering on the edges of his lashes. His pink lips jut out into what almost looks like a pout, “My dearest princess, I ache for you-” Followed by the sharp inhale of breath once he grazes over your clit once more. “-so much so that it’s leaking out.”
“I ache for you, too, Choso. So much.”
“Hah…not as much as I do for you.” As if the petering out of his ribbony white cum had ultimately brought back an inkling of his rationality again. “Though for a lowly knight to be so forward-”
You’re leaning down and wiping away the tears from his handsome cheeks. “Choso…you would never be undeserving of me.” It’s the firm tone that makes him freeze, snapping his head to you with sheeny eyes. “In fact, I could argue that it is I who does not deserve y-”
Choso doesn’t let you finish that sentence.
He’s kissing you long and sound.
And as he smiles against your lips, you decide that you have a long conversation to be had with your father at daybreak.
As heir to the throne.
.
.
.
There is a celebration in the bejeweled chapel that morning.
Though not of a wedding, rather…a coronation.
With the promise of a wedding.
And as you sit upon your velvet throne, the crown jewels balanced heavily on your head and your hands, you feel the folded-up piece of paper tucked away in your locket. Humming.
You catch Choso’s eye, closest amongst the row of knights at attention.
You wink.
He smiles.
Yuji shoots you a thumbs up.
Yaga watches the scene and smiles a slight smile.
Shoko could not have looked more smug.
And Naoya? Though the Zenin family was happy to attend, one such prince was pointedly not invited. Nor would he be claiming any thrones any time soon.
As the ceremony continues, the letter pulses with delight-
“My dearest princess,
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Your dearest knight.”
.
.
.
Dearest gentle reader,
Church bells are a-toll—though not for a royal wedding (though be patient, and we shall see the very same soon)—for it’s a royal coronation!
Her Highness, the princess, both shocked and scandalized the Ton at the Royal Diamond Ball last night by attending to her first dance with none other than…her personal knight. Yes, Sir Choso Kamo was chosen personally by the daring royal to be the gentleman that sweeps her off of her feet (on the dance floor).
And query any ogling noble at the ball that night, and should they find the time between plucking the flies out of their mouth, then all shall confirm that the young couple was rather…scandalously close. Though keeping to his hands confined to places the Ton would approve of, it was rather evident that the way the princess and her knight looked at each other was ripped straight from a fairy tale. The romance!
And just as any good fairy tale should have an obvious villain, this writer’s insiders claim that Prince Naoya Zenin was certainly not happy with the incident.
Though you must forgive this dear writer if my memory of such dudgeon royal guests is far from perfect. For I was far too occupied with the later…disappearance of Her Highness.
And most conveniently, her knight, as well.
The princess was most certainly not present as she was dubbed the Diamond of the season, nor would she have been able to keep her eyes (or hand) away from Sir Choso long enough to notice. You read that right, dear reader, the Ton has positively been fanning themselves all morning at the juicy details being whispered down palace halls.
My trusted sources claim that the princess and her knight had been locked up in her royal bed chambers…all night. And though the contents of what they may have gotten up to inside this chamber is all speculation, late-night patrol down the palace halls claim they heard the most…peculiar noises emanating from the princess’s bedroom.
All. Night. Long.
Though, of course, Her Highness’s ultimate return to the ball long past the Diamond announcement is a source of many rumors—this eagle-eyed writer would like to point out something else entirely.
Bite marks. Unsteady gait.
Glowing.
Perhaps all coincidence, of course, that Sir Choso Kamo had donned his knight’s armor and hidden any of his own marks from view. It is undeniable that the princess had been carrying evidence of a knight—my apologies, I meant night well-spent!
And perhaps most damning of all might be the fact that - after a terse discussion with His Majesty, the King, as my sources say - an announcement was made at the very cusp end of the ball.
Of the princess’s coronation as Queen tomorrow, and of Sir Choso Kamo’s induction as King Consort. He shall henceforth and forevermore be known as King Consort Choso Kamo, Duke of Kamo Estate.
And lastly, of a summer wedding, due on the horizon. (Sources also claim something else due…a bundle of joy perhaps between the young couple.)
But that is enough of speculation—oh, what was that?
I can hear your cries, gentle reader, I can hear them! Worry not, this writer is yet to forget a single detail of the most succulent gossip from the Ton - I already foresee your queries about what happened to Her Majesty’s secret admirer then.
I believe you shall be delighted to know that my insider tells me that…the very secret admirer you speak of is now King Consort. What a romantic twist to the tale!
Now as Prince Naoya fumes and my readers rejoice, excuse me while I dry my tears and pick out my best summer arrangements for this royal wedding—for you know that this writer must always be on the scene!
We wish the happy royal couple all the best with their preparations!
Yours Truly,
Lady Whistledown.
A/N. Any guesses on who Lady Whistledown might just be??
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being the wife of the strongest was almost as dangerous as being the strongest himself. so you're not surprised when you're scheduled for your bi-anual hostage & ransom. well, until your kidnapper just so happens to have the same fucking face as your husband, and you find out that satoru has more secrets than you were aware of.
♡ ₊˚‧ in today's episode. you wake up with a pain in your head, your wrists bound, in a basement with your— husband?
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. canon verse :: angst :: smut :: messy dynamics :: named twin :: kidnapping :: jujutsu society dynamics :: love triangle :: yearning so much yearning :: secrets & mystery :: clan politics :: the guy who got you vs the guy who earned you
Throat dry. Taste of metal. Neck cricked.
Dark.
So, very dark.
You should be eating mochi. You should be coiled up on your couch with your feet up. That was the plan after your grocery trip. Did you fall asleep? Forget your sweet treat?
What time was it?
You needed to start dinner. Satoru would be back soon.
What time was it?
Why was it so dark?
What time was it?
The dull ache in your eyes ran to the back of your head. Down your neck that strained. Hung. Ugh. You always found the worst positions to fall asleep in, huh? That'll be a pest while you cooked dinner.
Dinner.
Time.
What time was it?
Why was it so dark?
Your eyes squeezed. Struggled. A chore to even open them. The sprain in your neck shot down your spine as you slowly raised your head. Groaned and rolled your shoulders back. Knocked wood. Wait— wood?
Weren't you on the couch?
Your hand reached for your neck. To massage the pain away.
Your hand didn't budge.
Couldn't.
It hurt to open your eyes. Hurt to blink. Hurt to force yourself awake and look ahead at the tv playing whatever soap opera you probably fell asleep to.
A door.
A door?
A door, and a table, and darkness and talismans—
Talismans?
Despite the pressure behind your eyelids, you blinked. Once. Twice. Ten times. You tried your hands again— nothing. They're behind you. Your arms hurt too. Your wrists burned.
Wait.
No couch. No tv. No living room. You're in a chair. Your wrists stung because they were bound. Behind your back. Your neck hurt because it was hung. Because you were asleep. No—
Because you were knocked out.
What. What happened?
As the reality sunk into your dilating eyes, so did it your heart. It stuttered. Once. Twice. Ten times. Faster, and faster. As fast as your gaze that flickered around.
Left, right, up, down, left— to the door.
To the talismans.
To the table.
The man—
The. What?
"Oh my god," you whispered. Shoulders tensed. Mind catching up to your sprinting heart. Heaving and frazzled. Like your eyes that gaped. Not this again. Not another kidnapping. What was it now— thrice? In the same year?
You tried to kick your legs. Bound too. The chair rattled. The rope bit into your ankles and squeezed beneath your knees. A warning: don't even try.
Wait— the man. The man. There was a man—
"Good morning."
He drawled. Easy. Lazy. The tone, pitch and rasp you were used to. Your heart fluttered. She always did when it came to him.
"S— toru?"
You blinked again. Ten more times for good measure. He stood at the table. Setting down items you couldn't see because of his broad figure. Head hung. Not in his jacket. But that was his white hair. The back of his blindfold. His voice.
Satoru. Your husband.
Tension drained from your shoulders. You sigh. Relieved. Then hitch— confused.
Why were you bound?
"Toru? What's going on?" You tugged on the restraints, pouted. "These are tight. What're you up to now?"
You were surprised. But you couldn't really be surprised at that. You signed up for a life full of uncertainties when you married the man, the maniac: Gojo Satoru. 'Always expect the unexpected' was surely in your wedding vows. Probably in fine print on your marriage certificate.
Was he trying something new? Some more kinky shit that he's always on about? You did say you wanted to try something new. Last thing you expected was for him to take it in a: lemme abduct my wife from the grocery store and lock her in a dingy basement kind of way, though.
Odd choice. Considering you've been dealing with kidnappings and ransoms since you slipped his pretty silver and sapphire ring on your finger.
"You know," you mumbled, tugging on your wrists again. "When I said something new, I was talking wax or something. Temperature play y'know?"
He chuckled. Deep and rich.
"Oh yeah?"
"Mhhm. But roleplay's fine too I guess. Just loosen this up a bit?"
It's your husband.
It's your husband.
It's your husband and his extraordinaire personality. Your husband and his knack for swiping the rug from beneath your feet.
So why were the hairs on your neck still standing?
He turned around. Something in hands. Small and black. You were flushing before you had the chance to shoot him something coy. Knees pressing together the way they always did when his lips set in that thin line. When from even beneath his blindfold you knew his eyes were serious. That rare firmness that had you gripping the sheets and tossing your head back into the pillow.
He approached. Lifted your face. The callouses kissed your jawline. His hands felt rougher. Your thighs quaked.
A thumb and forefinger grasped your chin. His touch felt warmer as he tilted your head. Side to side. Pale brow arched and lips set thinner.
He muttered something. You didn't hear. You were too focused on the item in his hand and his thumb that swiped to the base.
Click.
Your knees pressed tighter. Tummy looping. You anticipated buzzing.
Buzzing.
Where was the buzzing?
You flinched. Aching eyes screeching at the burst of light shone directly onto them. He pinched the item in his large hand and brought it to your eyes. Only then did you realise it was a torch.
"Uhm—" you winced again. His grip tightened. Holding you steady as he observed your constricting pupils.
"Satoru? What're you—"
"Don't worry your pretty little head 'bout it. Just making sure you don't have any brain damage."
"I— what?"
Brain damage? Why would your husband need to search you for that?
The answer throbbed from the back of your skull. Dull and aching. It only confused you more. Did he hit you? Hell— weren't you at the grocery store?
Did he.
Did Satoru fucking knock you out?
"Satoru— what the fuck is going on?"
Excitement bled into something darker. Something colder. The flutter in your tummy twisted. On instinct you tugged on the binds again.
He switched the torch off, but didn't answer.
"Satoru, this isn't funny." You tried to harden your voice. Your stare. In that way that always told him his joke was going too far. Or that your patience was running thin.
But your eyes quivered. Your heart stuttered. Hell— sprinted. A race off with your mind as you scrambled for answers. Tried to shove away anxieties and the growing fear gnawing at the back of your skull.
He only stared. Crooked his head. Silent.
Too silent for Satoru.
"Let me go— untie me." You repeated, brows pinched, fingers clenched. "This isn't funny. Untie—"
The chair rocked.
His hand shot to the back of it. Shoved it. So the front legs lifted off and your legs dangled in the air. Your yelp choked through the dark room and your body braced for the cold floor instinctively. Eyes squeezed shut. Shoulders squared.
It never came.
His long fingers curled around the backrest. Gripped it tight. Supporting the chair so that it dangled on its hind legs. So that your body limped back and cowered against it. Helpless. More helpless than you already were.
"Jumpy little thing, aren't you?"
He crooned. Velvet smoothed over a rasp from the back of his throat. He stared you down. The kind of stare that pinned you in place. The kind of stare that husbands don't look at their wives with.
"Wh-What're you—" you croaked, confusion drowning in your gaped eyes. "Satoru. Please. I'm scared."
He was silent again. Silent in the way that wasn't your husband. A quiet that pinched on your growing anxiety and weaved it into fear. Something rational. Real.
Easily, he brought the chair back. Smoothly resting it on the floor.
"Ouch. So he really hasn't talked about me, huh?"
He? Who's he?
Your frantic eyes glued to him as he withdrew and rounded back to the table. Setting down the torch and running a finger over the other items. Now that your eyes weren't bleary with sleep— you could see them clearly.
Blades.
Blades. A nail clipper. Was that a wooden rod? A bucket?
Your breath thinned. Heart lunged into your throat. Knees quaking— and not in the way they once were. When you thought this was all some kinky foreplay from your husband who took your suggestion into consideration.
"I. . ." you tried to find the words, the questions, anything but the fear weighing on the back of your tongue. "What's. . . What's going on? Where am I? Why are you—"
"So many questions. You talk this much to all your kidnappers or am I just special?"
You watched closely. Anxiously. As he swiped up one of the tools. A blade. A dagger to be precise. Unsheathed and narrowed at the tip. He tilted it in his hand. The steel glinted back into your eye.
Only then did you see the dangling lamp above your head. Dull like the rest of the room. Not enough to see where you were— but enough to see your body. To see him. See whatever he planned to do to you.
"Quite the hefty bounty on your head, y'know." He raised the knife, idly observing and fiddling with it. "Bigger than most. You must be one special girl, huh?"
He turned. Leaned back on the table with one hand on the edge as the other tipped the razed blade in your direction. "A shame, really. A waste of a pretty face."
The blade glinted your fate. Hanging from his hand like an extra limb rather than a weapon. As if his hands were sharper than steel. His fingers loaded with bullets.
Or maybe that was his tongue?
"So tell me. Does he always let you get caught up in his mess?"
There it was again. He. Who the hell was he talking about?
Your fingers curled deep in your palms. Wrists tight. Like your jaw. Like your heart. As you stared at the man that wore your husband's skin.
He sounded like your husband.
Looked like your husband.
Tall as him. The same fluffy white hair. The same black blindfold. Grinned with the same teeth as him.
Hell— joked like him too. Quick and crude. Sharp like a scalpel.
But you knew. Irrevocably. Unfathomably. The answer pulsed through your pumping veins and buzzed in the dizziness of your head. Soured in the nausea on your tongue.
This man— this thing— this creature in black that approached you with a blade in his hand rather than the beautiful bouquets you were so used to.
This wasn't your husband.
"Satoru."
You still called for him like it was. Like the name alone would save you. Soft and scared. Shaking as he loomed over you.
Maybe it was an act.
Maybe it was a joke.
Maybe he was really committed to the bit.
Maybe he'd laugh when he saw your tears and pull you into his arms.
Maybe he'd assure you that it was just a cruel trick. An early April fool's prank.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe.
Your head inched away. Pressing further into the wooden chair that bit back in splinters through your clothes. "I. . . why— why are you acting like this? I'm scared."
He stopped in front of you. The phantom of your beloved. The nightmare that wore his skin and dared to try and charm you with his grin.
"Well maybe," he hummed. Leaning over you. Looming. His presence stabbing into you more than the binds did.
He raised a hand—
You flinched.
— and pinched at the corner of his blindfold.
Then peeled it back. Lifting one edge to his brow to reveal the same pale skin you'd kiss goodnight. The same blue eyes you'd wake up to every morning.
Beautiful. Brutal.
With a scar cleaved over one. Ugly. Violent.
Etched with years and carnage.
He leaned in. Close. Too close. To give you a better look. To burn it in your memory. "Cause I'm not your Satoru."
His head tilted. Like it was nothing. Like he was telling you about the weather.
"Make sense?" He crooned. Patted your cheek with the flat of his hand.
He didn't care for your shock nor your terror. Barely blinked at your gaped eyes and your parted mouth.
He just withdrew. His face at least, as he observed your stare. Brow arched. Lip quirked. "What? Think I'm pretty?"
"Who. . ." You quivered. "Are you?"
The cold dagger pressed smooth beneath your chin and nudged it. Tilting your head to him as he hummed.
"Gojo Satoshi."
.
.
.
What?
"I know. Real original." He rolled his eyes, sharp teeth peeking from his grin. "People hear 'twins' and go crazy with the names."
"Twins? What do you mean tw—"
"My brother's keeping you all pretty and dumb, huh?"
If you weren't so bewildered, you might have been offended.
Instead, you scrunched your brows. A hundred questions and a thousand theories racing through your panicked mind. The man before you looked like your husband. Sounded like your husband. Grinned and joked exactly like the man whose ring was on your finger.
He stood before you not as a curse. Not as something wearing Satoru's skin.
But as his twin. A twin you knew nothing about.
"I don't understand," you said, the crick in your neck tensing. "Satoru has a twin? He never told me."
"Course he didn't, dollface. I'm his dirty little secret."
Satoshi sighed, theatrical, as he withdrew the knife.
Then snapped! his arm. Fast. Too fast for you to react. Your flinch and yelp were delayed.
Thud!
The blade ripped into the wall behind you. Taking with it just a few strands of your hair. It barely grazed your cheek. But your heart still pounded. Eyes still glazed.
Despite it all, you managed to ask, "what do you want with me?"
Breathy, shaky, a hint of praying hope. As you hesitated to look up at him while he slipped the blindfold back over his eye. Hiding away the only thing that distinguished him from his twin.
"It's not you I want," he hummed, stepping away. Yet his stare lingered. Raking over every inch of you in a way that told you something else.
"Like I said, you got a nice price over your head. And Satoru's stupid enough to let a pretty thing like you walk around alone."
Turning his back to you, he stretched his long arms above his head with a long sigh. "You see, my brother and I have some unfinished business. And unfortunately for him, he's got a weak spot now."
His head turned. Glancing at you from over his shoulder. There's that fucking grin again. That one that looked too much like the Satoru you knew and loved.
"So, enjoy your stay~"
Singing. He was singing as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked to the door. Pushing it open and ignoring your protests together with the harsh scratching of rope.
"What does that even mean! Hey! Wait get back here— I have questions!"
"Same here. I mean, wax?"
You flushed. Growing stiff the second he decided to pick on your careless words from earlier. "That—"
His grin only grew. Head curving back to you once more. With his brow arched and his teeth glinting in the dim light.
"What? Embarrassed?" He cooed. "Not to worry. I won't tell Satoru a thing when he comes to get you."
"What so you're banking on that?"
"But of course."
He kicked the door wider. Revealing a staircase that he trekked up. Leaving you behind in the dark basement with questions etched into all four walls. Still tugging on your restraints and thrashing in the chair.
Until he called back down to you. Stiffening you in cold sweat. His voice echoed. Casual. Too casual for a statement so weaved in hatred.
Synopsis. Dearest gentle reader, it’s a royal affair! This social season we answer the age-long question: can a knight truly love a princess? For amidst the celebrations and pomp of your royal betrothal, rumors circulate that a certain handsome knight, Choso Kamo, already has his eyes (and hands) on you. Is forbidden romance in the air?
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, knight!Choso, Bridgerton AU, princess x knight, best-friends-to-Iovers, regency AU, YEARNING, letters, secret admirers, betrothals, poIiticaI alliances, unrequited Iove (or is it?), the Ton, Lady Whistledown’s, papers, scandaIs, balls, pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, spítting, he’s a MUNCH, face-ríding, sneaking off, service d, he’s FÉRAL, ríding him, using him, fírst times, manhandIing, making it fit, cervíx smooches, begging to be yours, rough s babbIing, DÚMBlFICATlON, making you work for it, creampíes, pushing it back in, cúmpIay, slight overstím, confessions, HAPPY ENDING, coronations, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.9k
A/N. Heard there was a new Bridgerton season so I just had to <33
The letter is short.
“It’s you.
My dearest princess, surely, you must know that it can only ever be you.
I have battled fruitlessly this greatest conflict of my life—those of the soul—and I cannot bear it any longer. I have fraught, and choked, and swallowed my words in the hope that, perhaps, one day they shall cessate along with this traitorous heart of mine. It is what it deserves. Diverted from its duties to the body, my heart exists solely to count the beats of time that I am beside you.
It aches the greatest ache, as my affection remains unchanged. And the words yest escape me onto this page, my dearest princess.
Thus, I beg that you forgive this lowly admirer for his treason.
For, it’s you. It’s you. It’s you.
It shall at last and forevermore be you.”
Unsigned and unclaimed. Left on the gilded surface of your nightstand, as it had been every morning for the past four years.
Your bashful secret admirer.
Now, the first time had been rather a shock—to both you and the flutter of attendants who’d happened upon the parchment. You certainly didn’t have any close acquaintances nor prospects entertained whom were so dedicated to deliver a letter at the splinter of daybreak (and a brief interrogation of your personal ladies-in-waiting showed that they’d seen nothing of who’d been slipping you notes at night).
It had to be someone from the palace, however - if they managed to deliver these letters so frequently and so easily.
Though most nobles sent their correspondences upon dishes of pure silver, with an attendant from their court that would recount every detail of your reaction to them later. But this one had no staff attached to it, no emblem, no name. No identity in the very least.
Nothing but slanted, slightly trembling words as if the writer’s hand had been caught in an inescapable tremor the entire time. And the flower.
Every morning, once you excitedly unfurled the little pink ribbon that tied the letter up, a small yellow daffodil would fall from inside. As if a piece of the early morning sunlight, plucked from the skies, placed in your hands, you’d roll the stem between your fingers as you read through the letter.
Each word more tantalizing than the last.
You’d tried to spend the night awake on several occasions, of course, to catch this romantic culprit in the act. But the only thing that served you was a few hours of sleep, and a thoroughly cranky elocution teacher once you kept nodding off during class - and no admirer, evidently. And yet you’d still awoken to the neatly tied-up parchment in the morning.
Like a phantom in the night.
The letter was the first sign of daybreak itself.
When that scheme had found itself utterly useless, you’d taken to warning your personal knights stationed outside your royal chamber - certainly not to get your admirer caught, rather to find out just a morsel of information about them. A morsel.
Yuji and Nobara had been rightfully horrified, though you’d insisted that whoever this was meant no harm!
You suspected that your admirer snuck into your room in the few minutes between the knights changing their stations: Yuji and Nobara would be set firmly outside until midnight, and any dark hours past that would have your doorstep occupied by knights Choso and Yaga. Two of the most trusted knights in all the kingdom, with all the accolades to prove it.
And it certainly helped that Choso had been your personal knight for the past two years - though you’d been friends for far longer than that. Always at your side, always staring down nobles that overstepped, always offering his hand out to you when a step was too steep.
He was your rock. He is.
He’d been one of the court advisor’s sons, your age. You remember being a young royal unaware (or perhaps uncaring) of the duties that loomed for you in the horizon; spending summer mornings playing tag with Choso and a few of the other children in the palace, and winter nights breezing through books and time like sand—just the two of you in that grandiose library. His father resided in a modest estate not too far off from the palace, and Choso cried every time he had to say goodbye to you. Every single day.
You grew the most close with Choso.
And once he had come of age, he’d promptly signed up to become a knight.
Through training and nutrition plans, and battles and scars, Choso had climbed up the ranks faster than any other you’ve ever seen. Though he was still as tender-hearted as you remembered him - he’d shed a few tears the day he was assigned to a brief battle on the outskirts of the kingdom. Away from you.
But you’d simply wiped away his tears and cooed in a low voice that your elocution lessons hadn’t taught you to—come back to me soon, Cho.
And he had.
The battle with the Zenins had ended, and Choso Kamo had returned as the kingdom’s most celebrated warrior. It’s whispered to this day amongst the palace staff how he’d kicked off his saddle in town, run past all the bubbling celebrations- straight to the royal palace where he’d waded past the congratulating courts and straight to you—
All in platonic friendship, of course.
Of course.
But you suppose it didn’t help quell the rumors when Choso rejected your father, the King’s, offers of estates and riches. Of lifetimes of luxury. He’d stood before the royal court and bowed his head, having only one request of the monarch: to be your personal knight. Forevermore until he breathes.
And how could one say no to the turning point of the battle?
And thus, he’d become your knight. Yours.
You suppose it was around this time that the letters had started, too…
You clutch this morning’s letter to your chest and breathe in the smell of fresh ink, leather, and the faintest hint of summer vanilla that dripped off of the page. It was always this scent that followed your admirer’s ardent declarations, and soon enough every time you passed the gardens or poked at a vanilla dessert, you couldn’t help but think of him.
A knock interrupts your thoughts and you startle.
Pushing the letter carefully underneath your pillow, “Come in.”
The towering double doors of your bedroom had small gilded swirls on it, which, if you stepped back, melded together to form an image that looked like the clouds above. Frothing and tumbling and swirling. Heaven itself. How oddly poetic that through these gates of heaven would walk in Choso Kamo, his knight’s armor catching the rays of morning sunlight.
His visor was pushed up to reveal his face.
His features were sharp and handsome.
His doe-like brown eyes were the envy of the courts.
He looks at you in your thin nightgown and flushes- “Y-your Highness—!”
Choso’s armor clanks and clutters as he hurries to turn away from you, and soon enough you find yourself staring at the knight’s broad back. Chiselled after so many years of training. Bringing a hand up to your lips you have to stifle a giggle at the sheer contrast- “My dearest knight, does it disgust you to gaze upon me like so?”
“Th-the furthest thing from it, Your Highness.” He sputters, and you swear you catch the back of his neck - just the slightest slit you could see between his armor plates - burning bright red. Blushing.
“Do you believe me of unsound character, then?” You challenge, “Do you believe me a harl-”
“Bear not the thought!”
“Then turn.”
He does—barely. Just enough degrees that you can see his handsome side profile, and he can stare at you through his peripheral vision- though that, too, is largely obscured by his helmet. “Forgive me…” Choso gulps. “-but the mere sight of you is not suited to be gazed upon by this lowly knight, my princess.”
“You have been within ames-ace of Yaga for far too long.” You tut.
But you’re still reaching for the gold-laced robe draped over the edge of your bed - your attendants had placed it there last night. Choso was always the first to greet you in the morning.
And it’s only once he’s completely sure that the robe now covered the beautiful angles and curves of your body, that is obscured from him what is Eve’s most beautiful apple, does he turn to face you. Only to find that he had spent so long mustering up the courage, that you’d already dipped underneath your pillow and pulled out-
“Yet another letter, Your Highness?” Choso queries, and you nod.
It was requisite that such an occurrence must be shared with your personal knight - most of all, your friend. And you didn’t feel the need to hide it from Choso as you did with your parents—perhaps because you knew his duty was to you, above all. You above the crown. “Oh, you shan’t believe it- today they wrote the most romantic line about how their heart beats simply to count their time beside me—”
Choso gives a jerky nod, “And the flower?”
“As always.” You’re pinching the little flower where it had been laid safely on top of your decadent pillow, showing it to him.
Your best friend takes one look at it and breaks out into an almost…relieved smile. “I see- he really is a stubborn old fool, isn’t he?”
“Oh, don’t call him a fool.” You huff. Turning away with your flower, “I think he’s just lovely.”
“Suppose he is a fool?” Choso probes, “Suppose he isn’t of great wits- would you still think he’s lovely?”
You furrow your brows at him, “But, of course. Intelligence cannot be measured by how many dusty books you read. Despite that, I believe that one would be of rather sound wits should they wish to compose letters this beautiful.”
There’s a pause. “Then suppose he isn’t rather pleasant to look at?”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” You counter stubbornly. “I think that I should find them quite beautiful either way.”
“Then suppose he’s a commoner?”
“That is the last thing I would fuss about-”
“But what if he’s a…” Choso starts- and as you wait for him to finish—he shakes his head. Giving you a light bow, “I apologize for getting carried by the conversation, Your Highness. I have just been reminded of my orders to urge you into prompt preparation to receive some very special guests today. I have summoned your ladies-in-waiting, they are stationed at the third royal baths.”
“Guests?” You ask. The palace always did have a constant flow of royals and nobles and merchants and people of the public going in and out, and rarely did you have to make a personal accompaniment with them. “What special guests may we—”
It’s then that you look at your calendar of quarter days: social days and tutoring days, and a day circled in rouge.
Today.
“Ah…”
.
.
.
Dearest gentle reader,
Royal gossip has always been the lifeblood of the Ton—particularly this year, with the debut of our Royal Highness, the princess, this social season. Rumors have been a-swirling for quite some time now, speculation about just which eligible gentleman will be lucky enough to win over the beautiful royal’s hand in marriage: perhaps a fair noble, perhaps the richest merchant of the land, perhaps a prince from a far-away land. The possibilities are endless!
Our dignified royal family has always been rather private about such matters regarding their princess, but today this humble writer is here to put these whispers to rest, my dear reader.
My most trust-worthy sources inform me of a royal fleet that has docked in our harbor early in the morrow—a fleet with none other than the Zenin family insignia upon its flag!
Now, before you fear another military skirmish with the ever-ruthless Zenin family, gentle reader, let me assure you that my insiders state this royal visitation to not be an act of warfare. Rather…of romance.
Some claim an age-long betrothal, some claim a political marriage in the works.
The cauldron of curiosity bubbles even further once you learn that the Zenin family, including His Highness Naoya Zenin, shall be paying a royal visit to the palace today! And some members of the royal knights claim they shall take extra precaution, and that Her Highness’s personal guard - a handsome young knight by the name of Choso Kamo - is to be with her at all times. Ooo la la!
It will certainly make it difficult for either Prince Naoya nor any other…admirer to get close to the princess (the palace walls talk, gentle reader, and some of my sources claim the presence of a second interest in Her Highness’s life—secret letters being hand-delivered every single night!)
But that is neither here nor there, and your writer is certainly not planning a visit to the royal dungeons in the near future!
Yours Truly,
Lady Whistledown.
.
.
.
“—such a beautiful garden-” Naoya’s lip curls as he looks out of the tall, sun-lit window at the rolling field below. Your parents barely have enough time to open their mouths in response before he continues, “-but of course, ours is much larger. Second only to our stables and the incredible militia grounds that we have-”
Everyone in the meeting hall closes their mouth, quenches their hope for speaking at least for the next twenty-five minutes.
You learn within the first few moments of meeting him that Naoya Zenin liked hearing his own voice, and any time he wasn’t, he was replaying his own voice over and over inside his head. You also learn that you don’t like him in the slightest.
Which makes being betrothed to him all the more difficult.
It had been a political alliance- or so your father had briefed you one night several months ago. Calling you into his office, holding your hand, he had let you cry on his shoulder for the first time in years that night.
To unite two people who had been locked in a bloody border war for far too long - that was your duty.
And this marriage was the key.
It had been long enough to let the finality of it sink in, and not nearly as long enough for it not to sting. Still. It hurt like a hot iron embedded in your heart once you had to curtsey for the prince.
He had barely bowed back.
And now the two royal families - as well as several esteemed members of your council - were spread out in the grand meeting hall. Watching as the blond-haired royal turned his nose up at the plate of intricate desserts offered to him by a male attendant—he flicks his hand at the boy and orders the woman standing beside him to do it.
The woman being no one else but the most talented healer in all the land.
Shoko Ieri looks ready to stab him with her scalpel.
“Compensating.” A low whisper sounds from behind you.
You don’t have to turn to know that it’s Choso- but you do anyway. And your heart flutters just a little as you spy his warm brown eyes through the gaps of his visor, “Pardon?”
He repeats, “Compensating.” Nodding towards Naoya who had now roped your mother into a spiel about his armory.
“—we boast the largest swords in the entire world, you see.” Naoya was bragging in his grating tone, and your poor mother could only nod. “The best- the biggest. Any old cod can claim that size doesn’t matter and yet our biggest swords are-”
You can’t help it - you catch Choso’s eye and you both have to force yourselves from bursting into a fit of chuckles.
Both turning into each other.
Your hand clutching Choso’s arm for support.
Choso’s gentle hum of laughter breezing the top of your head.
Only too late do you realize that everyone in the room had their eyes turned to you - each in varying degrees of horror at the proximity between a princess and her knight. Except for Shoko who had gone from glowering at the prince to looking somewhat…knowing.
Damn you, Shoko—you’re half-heartedly cursing her out in your head as you straighten up. Trying not to flinch as Choso follows and takes a step backwards to stand behind you.
As a knight is told to be.
You can’t see the expression on Choso’s face nor his demeanour, but what you do know is the familiar creaking of metal as your best friend sags in on himself. Almost shielding himself from the world underneath all that armor.
Perhaps from it.
You notice that he always did so whenever someone in court made his place known: whenever they flickered their eyes between the two of you, whenever they pushed their noble sons to greet you, whenever they questioned just why a knight was allowed to even look at the princess like so.
He took it all to heart. Crumpled it up inside, and in doing so he crumpled that beating thing as well.
You wanted to say something—but you knew you couldn’t.
And, of course, it’s Naoya who speaks first. “Hmm, once we are wed then I shall have to make sure that such a thing is not repeated.”
“There is no such thing to speak of.” You speak through a grit smile.
“So you say—” He takes a bite of a puff pastry and places it back on the golden plating, “-but as your husband, it is I who shall have the final say.”
Yell strangled in your throat, you take a step forward-
Only for your father to sense the growing tension and ease his way in, “So is that to say a royal wedding might be on the horizon?”
Naoya takes his sweet time answering, “Well…” Looking straight at you as he contemplates, he wipes off a bit of leftover vanilla cream from the edge of his lip and flicks it. “That is what I’m saying, Your Majesty.”
Your father claps his hands heartily, “Send for the wedding preparations right away—! Oh, and draft the announcement for the-”
But you don’t hear a single word.
It feels numb.
It feels like something’s buzzing inside of your head.
You’re unsteady on your feet until a cold metallic hand reaches out and clasps hold of you.
You know it’s Choso and you do not let go.
.
.
.
Your heart aches at the letter you receive on the morning afterwards: the morning of the official announcement.
“My dearest princess, cry not.
Cry not—for a single drop of your tears is worth more than all the raindrops in heaven, all the rays of sunlight kissing the Earth, and all the beats of my heart.
It has been running rattle-brained, foolishly wild, these past few hours as I stagger upon the thought that I may lose you. Not that this lowly admirer had you in the first place, my dearest princess, you must forgive me for my presumption. But in every little way in which you are mine, I gain to lose you still.
Cry not for a man that should not cry for you, my dearest princess. Cry not for a man that cries for you still.
And I…above all I am a selfish man. I am a selfish man—utterly selfish—and should all the world’s laws be up to me, then you and I, should you wish it, would have been married four summers past.
Alas, I am overruled.”
You’re dressed for the public.
And once you’re escorted to the royal balcony where all palace announcements are conducted, you look up from the ground just in time to see Yuji catch Choso’s eye. The long-haired man behind you shakes his head.
Though you’re not quite sure what it means, it somehow makes you feel all the more worse.
.
.
.
Dearest gentle reader,
Though it is not in good manners for a lady to gasconade, allow this writer here to tell you that I had proclaimed so—a royal wedding is forthcoming!
You have read that right, dear reader!
Don your best silks and gather your best florals, for soon her Royal Highness, the princess, shall be wed to Prince Naoya Zenin. According to what was proclaimed at the most recent palace announcement, a grand wedding is to take place in a week’s time, immediate after the Royal Diamond Ball, to celebrate the union. Though experts speculate that this marriage is likely of political origins rather than the heart-fluttering romance that some think, one thing is for certan—His Highness, Naoya Zenin, certainly seemed to take the affair in stride.
Witnesses to the official announcement claim that the prince simply couldn’t keep the smile off of his face at the thought of his beautiful new bride (though others claim that it’s due to his imminent rise to the throne thereafter, as he isn’t the first heir to the Zenin Family—however, you didn’t hear that from me, dear reader!)
Others at the site were more entranced by none other than the princess’s trusty personal knight - Choso Kamo was expectedly standing guard beside Her Highness. But what caught the attention of eagle-eyed onlookers was rather the…expression upon his handsome face.
You could not pay me to name a more heart-broken man, dear reader! You could not!
Perhaps this is an omen of how the wedding preparations are being handled behind the curtains? Perhaps this is an omen of…something more?
This writer has a personal inkling about the reasons as to why knight Choso might have looked at Her Highness with nothing less than sorrow (did somebody say tears in his eyes?)
And amongst this roulette of wishful men I know you’re asking me—but Lady Whistledown, what of the princess’s secret admirer?
Well—you’ll be happy to know that I come with reliable insight that the secret delivery of love letters has yet to cease! Yes, gentle reader, this particular admirer seems quite passionate in their affections. Even going so far as to send one just after the announcement. Should the letters have yet to halt now, one can only imagine whether they shall stop even after the royal wedding.
The prince. The admirer. The knight (perhaps?) How can one choose?!
Yours Truly,
Lady Whistledown.
.
.
.
“Big brother-”
“No-”
“Big brother, I simply state that-”
“Quiet, Yuji.”
Choso’s tone comes out harder than he’d intended, and his chest clenches at the wounded look in the younger boy’s eyes. Without wasting a single second, and without looking to see if anyone was nearby, he’s lunging forwards and embracing the boy into his arms.
Holding him just as he had when they were children and the pink-haired one would fall and bruise himself- though the only one that feels bruised right now is Choso.
It had been a week since the wedding announcement.
And all preparations had been in full swing: enough so that between all the dress-fittings, and the flower-pickings, and the guest-greetings, Choso hadn’t even had the time to exchange a proper conversation with you. Not that he was in the place to - especially not anymore.
Tonight was the Royal Diamond Ball of the season, where one Diamond shall be picked, always taking place inside the palace.
Except, this time, it had doubled in both extravagance and guest-list due to the simple fact that tonight was also the grand ball before your wedding. Tomorrow morning you would walk down the aisle in a dress of white.
Tomorrow morning you will be another’s wife.
He hugs his younger brother tight, “Yuji, I apologize for my brash words-”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” Yuji finally breaks the hug, “I was simply careless with my own words.”
“You were not-”
“I just don’t understand why you can’t be happy- why both of you can’t be happy. Together.” He looks away, eyes filling with tears he knows wouldn’t encompass even the tiniest fraction of what his brother has shed over this very reason. “It’s just not fair.”
“Some things…some things are meant to be the way they are.” Choso stares ahead at the gilded hallway spread out before him, “We must simply persist.”
Yuji looks as though he wants to say something more- but at that very moment, the doors to your royal chamber are opening. The two knights had been stationed there until you were fussed-over and all dolled-up for the Royal Diamond Ball tonight - the last as an unwed princess. The last before you were bound to Naoya Zenin.
And looking at you now, Choso thinks that it would’ve been worth it to cut down the wedding and all its procession for you.
Because there wasn’t a word to describe you.
The soft champagne of the taffeta draped over your shoulders and puffed up fashionably at your arms, cascading down in a waterfall of expensive silks up to your ankles. Following were glistening pearls that only brought out the beauty of the dress - your beauty - wrung at the edges of your hem and necklines. Delicate bracelets where your hands were gloved. A singular diamond hanging from your neck. And of course—your tiara.
It weighed heavily on your head.
Your ladies-in-waiting had dabbed on a bit of glittering rouge on your lips.
It was all that Choso could stare at.
You weren’t just bound to be the Diamond of the season, you were a diamond from the night sky. And he’s still trying to find a word to describe you that he knows wouldn’t come close, not even in a hundred of his l—
“Choso?” You cock your head gently at him. Trying not to bite down on your lower lip in nervousness and smear your attendants’ hard work, “Is something the matter-”
“Enchanting.” He blurts out- but that wasn’t enough. Would never be enough.
You look at him with slightly widened eyes, and he wouldn’t take the word back anyway. He looks at you and says in a more firm tone, “You look enchanting, my princess.”
You try - and fail - to bite back a smile—and ultimately end up swatting him on his armored chest. “Enchanting? Do not think that flattery shall stop me from forcing you into a dance tonight.”
“Ah—foiled again!” He dramatically looks to the skies.
“Fool.” You joking strike him again - Choso had dressed up for the occasion as well. His armor had been polished until it shined like a mirror, reflecting your own two ogling eyes back at you. Even the hilt of his blade looked deathly sharp.
He’d pushed his visor up and that gave you a glimpse of those two doe-like eyes, chestnut brown and warm. He was staring at you in a way that made you squirm.
Though Lady Whistledown’s society papers tended to use pretty prose, what they hadn’t lied about was this. Just how handsome he was.
“P-perhaps we ought to make our entrance.” You say.
And he nods in understanding, “We ought to—” But, what Choso realizes, is that he doesn’t understand at all.
And his breath hitches as you clutch onto his right arm with both hands. Attaching yourself against his side- how he wished he could feel the warmth of your body through his armor-
“These shoes are far too tall.” You fail to meet his eyes, “Forgive me, but if I could use a bit of support until-”
“Anything you want, my princess.” He breathes.
Your actual entrance into the grand ball is a blur - you’ve attended far too many of these in far too short a time before. It’s the crunch of velvet carpet underneath your too-tall shoes, and the strangely burning sensation of all eyes being directed at you.
At the way you were still holding onto Choso.
You distance yourself from him silently, and he falls in step behind you. The master of ceremonies announces your name even though everyone here already knows it. The staircase is never-ending and unrelenting, each step louder than the thundering of your heartbeat, a staccato of what feels like your own unravelling.
You’re slightly off-kilter as you reach the end- before a hand shoots out to help you.
You grasp onto the man’s calloused hand gratefully, looking up to realize that it was Yaga.
“Watch your step, Your Highness.” He helps you stand and wade through the crowd. As the head knight, Yaga had the freedom to forgo the armor tonight. It was a strong navy blue, nearly the entire chest of it covered in numerous medals and colors - warning off keen-eyed nobles from nearing.
You catch sight of Naoya surrounded by ladies-in-wait by the feast-
Yaga’s voice breaks through, “What is it that’s on your mind, Your Highness?”
“Nothing.” You answer instantly, “It’s just- it must be pre-wedding jitters.”
“I see…” He looks at you intensely, and you feel as though he can see right through you. Know right through what you’re really feeling. “Then in that case, all is well, correct?”
“Correct.”
He almost smiles, “And you are ready to be wed to His Highness Naoya, correct?”
“C-correct.”
“And you shall be thinking of a certain knight- or a certain admirer on the altar, correct?”
“Correct-” You falter, “Excuse me?”
“Ah—it seems the orchestra is commencing.” Yaga looks into the distance where the violin players had started easing in soft trills, as if music itself had waited for your arrival. “Now, my back is certainly too weathered for such dances- but I shall hold you with me no longer, Your Highness.” He turns to you and gives you a gentle smile, “Go—have your first dance.”
You almost plead, “But with who?” Naoya was still…occupied with all the court ladies- not that you would ever in a million years want to dance with Naoya Zenin in the first place-
“Whoever your heart may desire.” Yaga interrupts your thoughts, letting go of your hand- though not before pressing in something delicate and flat into it. He looks somewhere behind you—“A letter, asked of me to hand to you. I only implore that you stay as true to your heart, as he is to you.”
As Yaga disappears into the crowd starting to twirl in their tulle skirts—you open that little piece of paper up.
A short message.
“My dearest princess,
Steps behind you, a vision I do not deserve to see.
The most enchanting girl in the world to me.”
Enchanting.
The paper nearly falls out of your hand, and you can only look behind you - to where Choso Kamo was refusing to meet your eyes. His metallic visor was down and you couldn’t help but step closer.
Uncaring what they say as you’re reaching out and fastening it upwards- “Is this your penmanship, my dearest knight?”
He does not answer.
“Do you think I look enchanting, my dearest knight?”
He does not answer.
“Does your heart beat solely for me, my dearest knight?”
He does not answer.
“Do you not wish for me to be married—” At that, he flinches like a wounded animal. And you already know that he most certainly won’t be answering that question. Which is why you’re answering instead, “For I feel much the same towards you.”
He snaps his head up, glittering brown eyes pleading down at you. He breathes…“Of which sentiment?”
You smile, “All of it.”
“A-and the marriage-” Choso takes a jerky step towards you, his armor creaking like the weight of dungeon chains. “The alliance-”
“May I have this first dance?” You simply reach your hand out.
And as the music crescendos, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of your head. Letting you lead into a golden floor.
Gasps deafen the ballroom music.
.
.
.
The Ton was a-flutter and a-ripe with scandal as you spent your first dance at the Royal Diamond ball with your knight instead of your betrothed. At least, that’s what you imagine - the truth is that you’d been too entranced with Choso Kamo to even pay attention.
He’d held you gently - so gently - as though his large hands could break you at any given moment.
And Choso had never let his eyes stray from your figure as he twirled you around the ballroom. He would have cared about the whispered- he should have…but how could he when he had the most enchanting girl in the world in his arms?
Too soon- your dance was cut short by an arm on Choso’s shoulder. Stopping him.
You’d both turned to face Naoya Zenin, furious spit lining the edges of his lips. He had barked out a formal order for the knight to step aside and hand him your dance- and though Choso’s hand had gone to his sword…
You’d shaken your head at him.
It was a half-dance with Naoya (of which you’d excused yourself feigning networking duties) and a hastened walk to the edge of the ballroom. Right where Choso Kamo was attempting to blend into the gilded ballroom.
You’d nodded discreetly at him and he already knew—
With Yaga suddenly causing a commotion- accidentally spilling his red wine on Lady Mei Mei’s dress, no one had noticed the two of you slipping out after the second dance. Before the Diamond was announced.
He followed you silently, two steps behind as a knight should, all the way up to your royal bedroom.
It was only once you’d reached your towering double doors that you took Choso by hand- all but dragging the handsome knight inside. And though he’d squawked in surprise, you’d merely looked at your best friend with determined eyes.
“Take me, Choso.”
He gasps. His shudders.
He was going to ruin the princess.
CLANK!
CLANK!
CLANK!
CLANK!
Choso’s heavy armor fell to the ground—
CLANK!
The last of it before the knight scoops his strong arms underneath your legs and hoists you up into that princess carry you’ve read about in every fairy tale. Choso walks you gently over to the expansive bed, before setting you down and laying you all flat—
“Why’re you by the foot of the bed, Cho?” You’re huffing down at the man who was now pressed against the mahogany bedframe. He had his knees down on the soft carpet, kneeled at your feet. Grabbing onto one of Choso’s toned arms - still in a gauzy white poet’s shirt that had been worn underneath his armor - you attempt futilely to pull him upwards. “Come lay with me.”
Looking away with a blush. “Why…have you really not the faintest idea, my dearest princess?” Hearing those words from his mouth sends shivers down your spine.
He looks at you with dark, half-lidded eyes. Hands spreading your thighs apart and sliding down the sides of your legs. Beneath those customary layers of silk. Choso’s hands keep roaming, and there’s a sudden rush of heat pulsing down to your core once you register his fingertips scraping the edge of your undergarments.
Mouth falling slightly agape.
“I-It’s only customary to give the lady a kiss before the dance—”
You’re gasping as your brain registers the innuendo- but not before Choso dips his mouth down and gives your cunt a looooong kiss through your sodden panties. Open-mouthed and hot.
He draaaaags the tip of his tongue down your slit n’ tastes you for the first time. Letting a single droplet of your syrupy slick end up splashin’ on his tongue- and he fucking moans. Loud.
Just so husky and attractive that it makes your body buck up into him without even realizing.
And it’s all that Choso needs to let go of his inhibitions. It’s all that he needs to hold both your wrangling thighs down and press himself even deeper against your aroused cunt. Nose-deep. Chest heaving in such guttural puffs.
It’s as if the knight didn’t even need to breathe as long as he could reach deeper against your sopping slit. So wet that he’s feeling your puffy pussylips through the fabric of your underwear- he slashes his tongue between your folds and makes you rut-
“Wh-what is this feeling…ngh.” Unable to help but pipe up in a shrill tone, you struggle to keep your hand pressed against your noisy mouth.
And he doesn’t even answer.
He can’t.
He’s lurching his mouth back and forth at a frenzied pace—crazed. Licking his tongue all over the inches of your cunt he could reach, rubbin’ his ridged tastebuds up and down the swollen outer part of your pussy.
You were just so damn soaked that it almost felt as if there was no barrier between your pussy and his ravenous mouth at all. Gaping even wider open and heavily kissing your pussy, he was almost thrusting his face against your sensitive cunt-
“Choso-” You gasp, your breaths all dampened. Hands weaving through his long brown hair for dear life. “Choso oh heavens—”
It was just too enchanting how your voice broke on the very last syllable of your sentence. And Choso can’t deny that it makes something carnal deep inside him twitch- “My dearest princess.”
“O-oh…” And you certainly didn’t expect his murmuring tone to send vibrations running up your spine like that.
Breathy. “Is that good, my dearest princess?” Choso’s mouth waters at the way his words only seem to make you splosh out in even more slick—gushing. It trickles greedily down either side of his mouth like two slick rivulates. And you can’t help but snap your head down and think that he looked utterly drunk - gaze half-lidded, lips puffy and red, forehead beading with sweat from his movements. Kissing. “My dearest princess.” Heaving. “My dearest princess.”
“P—please—” You’re trilling out, your head falling into the pillows behind you. “Choso, heavens, I beg of you to c-catch your breath-”
“And yet does it feel good, princess?”
That broken lil’ sentence of his punctuated by the most sloppy slash between your pussylips- smearin’ them apart and accurately pinpointing your clit. With the flexible tip of his tongue he presses inwards against that soft spot and makes you see stars.
Sends your hips rutting furiously against his pretty face, and your moans roaring. “Damn—fuck.” His cock throbs at the way he’d made such a poised, perfect princess break her demeanor. Swear- shit, he really was ruining you. “Fuck, yes- mmm, it feels so good.”
“Feels so good…what?” He’s rasping out.
And you have to blink through your film of tears down at him- “What?” He was now creating a rhythmic mwah of his lips down upon your clit - just lick upon lingering liiiiiick to drive you absolutely wild.
“It feels so good—” He’s groaning out straight into your cunt, already knowing that you’d be left all tender with his voice And just then you feel two pointed canines snag against your throbbing nub and almost…bite. “-who?”
“Choso—” So that was what he wanted all along? To have you hiccup and squeal his name as he draaaagged his lips from corner to corner of your leaky crevice and lapped up every ounce you gave? To have you absolutely shattered- “Choso-”
“Yeeees?” Alternating between snagging his honed canines down your clit n’ suckling on it.
Like his most favorite candy from the feast downstairs- and yet, you’d be the sweetest dessert out of them all. He was making out with your pussy just like it, too. “Choso- fuck, Choso I didn’t have the daftest idea that you could ever—mmm, it just feels too good.”
“Feels good?” He’s gutturally gasping, teeth scraping through your panties and creating little tears. Wrapping his pink lips ‘round your clit and hollowing his cheeks out of sheer force- “This feels good?”
“Yes-”
Nibblin’ his pearly whites down on your undergarments and tearing it down your slit. Swipin’ his tongue back and forth- “This feels—good-”
“Yes.” You gurgle out. It’s more and more.
It’s just the pinkish tip of his tongue that was proddin’ at your bundle of nerves. He slips it into a tiny hole town through your silken undergarments- and it’s enough to make your hips cleanly arch off the mattress. “Ch-Chosoooo—”
Choso’s darkened eyes flap wider open- “Suppose that feels even better, my dearest princess?”
And all he really wanted to do was make you numb with pleasure.
All he really wanted to do was slobber his mouth across that sweetened cunt of yours until he couldn’t even breathe- he’d be satisfied by the fact.
And Choso isn’t even thinking twice before he’s weighing down on one of the tears in your panties - something that he’d done with his very own mouth. Now his crowned fingertips were pushing against the delicate fabric and making it rip-rip-riiiiiiiiiip—!
Not even all the way through.
Just enough for two of Choso’s rightly thick fingers to seep through your undergarments and kiss your hole dead-on.
You flinch as he’s spreading your entrance with the most lecherous slurp! The knobbled ends of his digits pushing aside both your pussylips and simply aiming for that cutely leaking hole- how in heavens were you this wet? This tantalizing?
Tasty.
Choso reaches his slick-gazed fingers out of your cunt and raises it up to his vision - glimmering in the pale moonlight with all your candied liquids - he doesn’t hesitate before plopping them straight into his mouth. His eyes roll to the back of his skull and Choso moans as he tastes you-
“S-shoooo good—”
Fuck, was he slurring his words?
You’re raising up onto your elbows to question him, “Choso, did you just-”
But Choso doesn’t seem to hear- Choso doesn’t even seem to have anything running through his mind right now except for you and your pretty pussy. You and your pretty pussy.
You and your pretty pussy that gapes just as he pumps a few inches of his fingers inside - cunt getting glossed in your clingy slick once he squeezes his way inside. He’s feeling for the way your sopping wet walls glue to him like adhesive- stopping him briefly in his tracks before Choso’s stickin’ a thumb on top of your clit and making you take him.
“C’mon-” He hisses between clenched canines, brows furrowing down in concentration. “C’mon c’mon—it feels good. Doesn’t it, princess?”
“It does-” Hiccuping - trying and failing to buck your hips up for more. But the only thing you’re doing is succeeding in having Choso slip a hand up to grab your waist, pinning your body down to the squeaky mattress with such ease.
Your knight’s keeping your body on a damn leash while he fucks out a slooooow and sensual tempo between your legs. Just the fatness of each finger roverin’ deeper spots inside your walls, you swear you can feel out every single stretch. “Easy there, princess.” He knew his princess’s body better, it seems. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“It does but—fuck.” And just then Choso’s hooking his fingers in an incredible way that leaves your legs weak. Plumply pushing against one bunch of your nerves and sending shockwaves up to your brain. “Fuck, I want more, Choso.”
“Patience, Your Highness.” Choso spits out- literally. A dangling ribbon of saliva that clings onto your pussylips n’ makes it easier for the first inch or two of his digits to slip inside.
“But Choso—”
“Patience.” He hums, low vibrations. The space between your legs lets out the most lecherous loud squelches as he’s probin’ in and out. Watching as your swollen pussylips stretch out aaaaaaaall wide open-
He curls his lengthy digits against the velvety roof of your cunt. Making you just twitch, he’s grinning his slick-lipped grin. “I know you’re all needy right now, princess. But you need to learn to take it loooong and slow—” Emphasizing it by dragging his puffy digits along your walls and scissoring them multiple times. “-like that, see? That feels good, hm?”
“It does, but…” You pout.
Choso’s long lashes quiver, eyes widening slightly. “But?” Slightly crazed.
“But I want- hck!” Further pushing your slobberin’ cunt against his features, you’re dragging your most sensitive bits along his faces and shivering as it grazes his prominent nose. Desperately yowling, “But I want more-”
“Then command it.”
You snap your eyes open, “P-pardon?”
“Then command it.” But it still doesn’t sound real in your ears- ringing with pressure from his fingers slipping in and out. Hitting almost every spot you wanted him to—almost. He latches his mouth ‘round your clit once more and- he doesn’t suck. No.
Choso’s sinking his teeth into that perfect lil’ nub and draaaaagging it right out a centimeter or two until you scream. Fluttering his pretty lashes, “Aren’t you the princess, my dear?” Barely even waiting for your answer before your cunt squelches with a third one of his fingers- “Aren’t I your knight? Go on—command me.”
“P-please-” And Choso gnaws his teeth down even more meanly to stop you from using your royal manners. Until all you can do is bend your spine into the perfect curvature and puuush- grabbing onto his sweaty locks with absolutely no mercy. “Choso, I order you to go harder.”
His cock has never been harder.
He’s not even giving you a warning before thwacking! a strike with three globular fingertips, all the way at the very gooey bottom of your pussy. Rasping. “Harder?”
“Faster.” You barely gasp. “Choso, I-I order you-”
“Faster?” As if the only thing he can do when he’s so focused on fucking your pussy in harsh, thumpin’ hammers is that mantra of your words. “What else? What else, my liege?”
“Leige…” Bouncing your hips up, up, up—you might be too gone on his perfectly girthy fingers to realize the way you were swervin’ your waist to and fro. Just letting his lengthy fingers navigate the slick maze inside of you, plump fingertips spearheading inside like a spotlight and curving against every spot.
But Choso notices.
Of course, he notices.
He’s noticed every single thing about you, silent and stoic at your footsteps, for years. Always looking. Always admiring from afar—and he knows when you want something. “What else do you wish for, my princess? What else makes your pussy- hngh, feel good?”
“I want you to h-hit that one spot-” You’re blubbering through your constant tears. Moving your hips just to the side so that his curvaceous fingers were nearing where you wanted him the most. “So close—oh.”
“Never tell me to do anything twice, Your Highness.” He mutters, tone shot. “I’m always at your service.”
And he was.
And he was shovin’ his fingers - almost thickened with how long they’d been inside you - straight against that bundle of your nerves. Against that crevice you’d heard dubbed as your g-spot from that scandalous literature hidden away at the back of the library…
And when Choso had found that particular spot, he was hitting it like a madman—
Once. Twice. Thrice.
The way he’d memorized just where it was and mapped out every single inch of space inside you was dizzying. The way he’d leave a few sultry split-seconds to twirl his bulbous fingertips against your g-spot before reeling back and thud-thud-thudding. “It feels good, right?”
He was back to that familiar mantra and it was sending zaps of power down your spine to realize just how breathy he sounded. Just how smoky. Just how shattered.
Choso was eating you out like he was going crazy with every lick up your weepin’ pussy crevice. Uuuuup and down and fightin’ against his very own fingers to stick the edge of his tongue inside your quivering hole. “It feels so-” You’re gripping onto the strands of his hair stupidly, “So good-” Tears freely flowing down your cheek with just how many times he was mercilessly forcing his way against your sweetest spots. Your most favorite. “So good- so good- sooo good—”
You smack your hips up in a sloppy drag down Choso’s face and he moans.
“Choso, you’re just the best—”
And that? Those particular words are just about enough to make his red-hot, achingly hard erection pulse once. Twice.
Beading out a silky trickle of cum that darkens his thick pants.
Before he’s frankly quite sure that he might be on the verge of cumming- and such a valiant knight could never cum before his lovely princess, now, could he? Not daring to be so selfish, Choso heightens the pleasure and pressure until his tongue looked like nothing but a strawberry-pink blur lickin’ into every nook and cranny of yours. Slap-slap-slapping down on your clit.
And his fingers were fucking into you so hard- so ruthlessly. Viciously banging your g-spot like a constant bullseye and Choso was an expert at archery. Didn’t you know?
He doesn’t slow down - doesn’t dare to - even once your drenched walls start convulsing around him in a staccato. Even once you open your mouth in a soundless scream.
Even once you start to cum—
And Choso had never smiled wider in his entire life than he does right now with his lips glued to your pussy. Salivating. Tongue strokin’ your clit through every peak of your high- “C-cumming, Choso.” You pant out tearily. “And I can’t seem to stop…”
“You don’t have to.” Right on cue he bangs a roughened thrust just against your g-spot. Leaving you throbbing and aching for more.
And everything ‘more’ that you want - Choso’s more than happy to give.
Your loyal knight elongating your wave of bliss with his slick fingers. The perfect amount of thickness to stretch your walls but also leave you keening at his rapid pace- he pinpoints each tender point of your orgasm and thrashes against your nerves right at that exact moment.
Again.
And again and again.
And again—until your high makes you see white-hot stars behind your closed eyelids. Planting sloppy drags down his face right in synchronization, “Any longer and I don’t believe I shall cum any more, Choso.”
“As long as it feels goooood, princess.” He gurgles out, “Heh, so good that your body can’t cum anymore.”
“I-I don’t believe it works like- fuck.” Lips soiled with tears and saliva. Glazed. Doesn’t matter how much you’re running your voicebox ragged, because Choso doesn’t even slow down- not even when he’s fucked you through your orgasm and letting it taper out into mere tingles.
Shots of power. Vulgar strokes barely even starting to falter as you begin to feel so utterly raw n’ overstimulated. “But Choso, I want…”
“Hmmmm?”
He sounds so gone on your pussy that you know merely asking nicely won’t make Choso latch off. Experimentally, you’re tugging on his sweat-drenched bangs and he doesn’t even budge-
“Choso Kamo.” You’re starting out, struggling to keep your voice steady. And yet at the tone of your voice, Choso flinches as though he already knows- “As your princess, I order you to just fuck me already.”
He takes a few seconds to detach from your pussy.
Pulling away his sticky slick-glazed lips with a superior squeeelch! And Choso stares up at you with dark, half-lidded eyes. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
His ruined voice sends shivers across every inch of your body.
A body that he’s now plastering his hands onto and all but tearing through your soft layers- like butter underneath his strong hands. He’s ripping your silken gown straight through the middle, “I shall summon the tailor first thing tomorrow morning.” Choso grunts, already reading that expression on your face. “Worry not- your next dress shall be white, my princess.”
“Wh-white…” You breathe out, feeling light-headed at the implication.
Before you know it, all Choso has unhooked your half-corset and left you all exposed for him. For him to ravenously sweep his eyes down. For him to gaze upon every inch of you and gulp- was his mouth watering just at the sight of you naked?
But you’re not left too long to ponder upon the thought before Choso starts shrugging off his gauzy shirt and trousers. He’s letting the buttons pop open—pop! pop! pop! And displaying such a firm chest chiselled with prominent pecs, further down along were naturally ripped abs and the most sensual happy trail.
All dark and slightly unruly where it dips juuuust below his pants hemline.
Choso flattens his thumb against those golden buttons and lets himself spring free- and oh.
Oh.
You have to bite back a gasp out of sheer manners, though it should be rather obvious that you were ogling him. All about seven or eight inches of him- maybe more. Definitely more.
The cutest blushin’ pink at his tip, growing slightly more pale towards the base.
Glistening shaft. Heavy balls. He’s decorated with more veins than you might’ve imagined from him, and he’s so hard that each time they twitch his erection flinches in mid air. Fuck…Choso’s just so long and rock-hard that his puckered pink tip jumps upwards and smears a swipe of glistening sap across his abs. It glares at you like a smirk, and Choso sleazes out a smile right back.
Letting his head fall backwards once he gives his long cock a good pump.
“Oh…” He’s swearing underneath his breath, edging in closer on two capped knees. Those meaty thighs of his were just irresistible - all meaty and milky and flexing.
The slight muscles in his legs twitch as he inches closer to you on the bed. Cornering you against the headboard, Chose wields his swollen tip cloooose between your legs- kissin’ your puffy pussylips. Just a single swipe. “Fuck.”
And that’s all it takes for Choso Kamo to break on your pussy.
Head hanging downwards. Long locks covering his face. The entirety of his body fucking lurching- he’s messily creaming down your slit with copious amounts of cum.
Scorchin’ hot and sticking to you like adhesive.
It dribbless between your folds and enters your hole just the sliiiightest bit - already enough to start sploshin’ inside you and make you feel stuffed to the brim. You’re squirming at the unfamiliar sensation—and what does Choso do?
He’s reeling his hips back and rutting against you like a damn animal.
Unable to control himself. Merely pushing his fat cockhead between your pussylips and shoving- he groans at the way he couldn’t even fit the honed point of his very honed tip inside.
Just sliding lecherously past your pussylips and rubbin’ his veiny shaft down your front.
The only thing that that’s doing is grazing your clit and driving the man on top of you absolutely wild. He’s huffing through a pout as he looks down, “I want- ngh, I want to make it feel good for you, my princess. But it just won’t seem to fit.” Without much warning, he’s slithering his right hand down and scissoring open your snug hole. “Does this pretty pussy need me to s-stretch her out even more?”
“Oh—maybe.” You blubber out, looking at him through a heady gaze. “Choso…it’s my first time.”
And he knows he should expect it- fuck, he’s been at your side through every second of every day after you’ve come of age. He should already know by now.
His lips part, “Oh.”
“And I suspect it’s your first time, too?”
“It is…” Choso looks away bashfully, “My apologies, Your Highness, that I’m not experienced enough to perhaps give you the pleasure that you deserve-”
“Cho?”
He immediately shuts himself up, “Mhm?”
But instead of answering- you’re grabbing ahold of one of Choso’s muscular deltoids. It was just so plush and flexed as you moved him beneath you - flipping your positions over until his back hit the decadent mattress. And you’re clamoring on top of his slender hips, only slightly wobbly with the aftermath of your previous high.
All of Choso’s ivory sap dripped down your inner thighs and tried to glue them together. It was a treacly sheen that slid down his rock-hard abs.
And you’re gliding on top of him- draaaagging your swollen pussylips down his veiny shaft. A whimper lets out of your lips as his flared silt catches on your folds, “F-fuck—Cho, the court ladies told me about this particular position called, ahem- riding.”
He’s looking up at you with wide, heart-shaped eyes.
And your veins bubbled with molten embarrassment and need, “I’m going to ride you now, alright?”
“Yes-”
“Yes…what?”
Choso breaks out into the most sinful grin you think you’ve ever seen on him- “Yes, my liege.”
And that’s all it takes for you to perk your hips up just a lil’ bit and let Choso’s round orifice trace the outer rim of your hole. Just getting your body trained to the size - and even that is enough to make the man beneath you squirm.
To make him blush. To make him gasp.
To make him reach both quivering hands up and dig them into the globes of your ass- he’s jolting as though fighting with himself over letting you take your agonizing pace or humpin’ up into you like an animal.
Crying out—“Please. I need you so f-fucking bad.”
And you can pinpoint the exact moment that Choso’s husky voice breaks - all because you’re swerving your hips down and taking a gooood three or so inches of his fattened cock. Red-hot. Throbbing all the way deep inside of you.
The stretch was just so incredible that you’re seeing pure white- a primal moan ripping from your throat at the way he molded to your walls. Almost as if he was made for you.
He’s giving his first spurt of milky precum against your velvety channel, it drips down to your entrance and makes you twitch at the sensation.
Choso Kamo was ruining you from the inside and he wasn’t even trying yet.
Yet you’re still gasping- clawing onto his shoulders and then eventually down to his cushion-like pecs. Providing a firm hold for you as you’re trying to keep yourself balanced. Your mind muddled-
“Does- does it feel good yet, my princess?” Almost in the distance, you can hear Choso’s words echoing. They seem to rattle inside your emptied brain right now. “Does- does it- fuuuck—because it feels like heaven to me.”
“Shit, it feels so…” Your jaw drops agape, running out of words. Having him intruding at your innards like this wasn’t necessarily unpleasant- in fact, when he slightly rutted and rubbed against a few particular spots it almost felt unreal…
You’re keeping a firm grip on him and lightly bouncing your hips down - short, sloppy thrusts that give off a slurp! every time.
And Choso was giving off the prettiest little whimper every time you swallowed his solid tip. Just about two or three inches. “F-feels good?” He’s begging. Tears crinkle on the edges of his eyelids, and his lips wobble ever-so-slightly. “Feels good, right? Am I making my princess feel good?”
“So good.” You manage to gasp out. “Shit, I have yet to feel such pleasure with my fingers…”
“Being held at a degree higher than the fingers of my princess—?” He couldn’t believe it himself. And almost as though to confirm, Choso’s reaching over and lifting your dominant hand off of his pectoral. He brings it up to his mouth and gives it a long kiss, “Y-you cannot be serious.” Breathing in, as if to breathe in your essence. “The hands of my princess…”
Your jaw drops as his own does - opening wide enough to slip as few of your fingers inside and suck. “You’re more of a lecher than your innocent demeanour- ngh, lets on.”
“Only for you, Your Highness.”
And with your never-ending vulgar strokes, you’d managed to bully about half of Choso’s erection inside of you. It was a girth thick enough to stretch out hidden nooks n’ crannies inside you that you didn’t even know you had, and the perfect length to already be throbbin’ away by your g-spot…
You swivel your hips lightly enough to let his tip graze your most favorite spot- and you can’t help but fucking shake at the burst of sensations.
He’s hissing at the way you clench, “Oh, please-” Head falling backwards into the pillow in a dizzy haze. “D-does that little…squeeze mean it feels good?”
“Yes-” You gasp, “And it also means I ache for you more.”
Your best friend gulps, “Where?”
And it doesn’t take long for you to maneuver one of his calloused palms off of your hips and down to your stomach. Where it felt like he was so big that you could feel him from the outside—Choso presses down as he sinks in. “Here.”
That was almost enough to make him cum.
But Choso had already cum earlier - and it wasn’t a matter of not being able to stuff your pussy full all over again. He’s sure he could cream himself dry on your pussy. It was more so the fact that, in order to make up for it, he needed to make you cum at least twice more before finally finishing off himself.
One taste of your cunt clenchin’ around him and he’s feeling a tear slip down his cheek.
Almost subconsciously - body moving before mind - Choso arches off the comforter to probe his blushin’ tip deep inside you. “Shit- you just reached so deep, Cho.”
“Would you like me to take over, Your Highness?” Oh—how he loved the way that title rolled off of his tongue when he fucked you. His lowly body marking out your insides-
And he’d known you for so long by now.
He knew everything about you: every like, every dislike, every tell about your body. And he already knows from the hazy look in your peripherals that you’d been growing tired, thighs twitching any time you tried to messily bounce down on his cock.
Which is why one of Choso’s large hands cup your ass and start to help you fuck back into him- his muscules flexing mouth-wateringly every time he did so. Deeper and deeper. “Come on, my princess.” The hand on your stomach lifts off and glides down your pussy’s slit. Perfectly finding and pressing down on your knobbly clit - so sensitive. “Come on- fuck, let this loyal knight of yours make you feel good.”
“But the thing is…” You whimper out, head dropping down to look at the space between your legs. Like this, the size difference between your puckered hole and Choso’s thick cock. Growing even thicker before your very eyes. “-you’re just so damn big, Choso. Will it even fit?”
“I can make it fit.” He answers readily, as though the answer had already been on the tip of his tongue. For years, actually - all those long nights since becoming your personal knight. With only his hand and the image of you. He knows he’s fucking pathetic.
But he can’t bring himself to regret a single moment anyway. Because it’s only with that imaginary practice that he’s swervin’ his hips up to yours in slightly circular motions. “I can do anything for you.”
“Anything?”
He gasps out, “Anything for you, Your Highness.”
With his tongue stuck between his teeth, he’s crossing his brows and focusing on simply sensually fitting his cock inside. Uuuup with that big stretch.
Your head knocks backwards, “Ch-Choso—” Never been stretched like this before.
And then again with those rovering pushes.
“Choso.”
And again.
“Fuck-”
Choso wasn’t even answering any more - just couldn’t. He had his mind focused solely on one thing, and that was to pump all his generous inches inside you, which might be easier said than done considering how the longer he spent in contact with your pussy…the more pussydrunk he seemed to be becoming.
Until he was all but babbling—gasping, tearing up, fighting against the carnal resistance, holding onto you hard enough to leave nail marks all down your body. He was shovelling his ruddied cockhead with a thwack! against the very bottom of your pussy.
Bottomed-out.
You collapse down onto his chiselled chest with a strangled scream, feeling the metaphorical pop! of both your cherries. As well as the squirt of precum emptied out against your cervix-
The last thing you’re feeling before Choso’s leaving your entrance all sore.
Before he’s drilling up into you like a crazed man.
Fucking up into you with honed, deep thrusts - all the way from the globular edge of his shaft and then doooown until your clit scratches on the tufts of black hair at his base. He’s whacking your g-spot and then skidding right down until his puckered tip meets your womb. Rapid. Ravenous.
The bed creaks from the sheer pace of his movements, mingling with the shrill noises that you were letting out yourself. “So this is what it feels like- oh.”
Choso drags his right thumb down your pussy’s slit- that dewy spot of your clit being the perfect target for him to press down on. “This is what it feels like—” There’s such a dreamy quality to his words, languid and slightly slurred. “It feels like absolute heaven j-just-”
“Just?” You look up at your knight when he trails off.
Not expecting him to break out into the most sleazy smile. “Just having my innocence taken by the princess.” He says it in a way that sends shives down your spine - firm and possessive.
And even more possessive was the way that Choso thereafter clings a hold onto your waist and pulls you down to him. His abs shifting underneath you as he presses a kiss to your bitten lips—as he spits a wad of his saliva between them. “Taking the princess’s innocence- the whole kingdom should know that I r-ruined their perfectly innocent princess.” He’s gasping out, lost in the feeling of his entire engorged inches being suctioned by your walls. “That I made her- hah, pussy mine.”
“Choso—” Your eyes blow wide in shock and pleasure.
Because just then the hand teasin’ at your clit decides to jump straight to pinching right there.
It makes you twitch on top of him.
The pit of your stomach fizzling with something that feels good-
“Oh, but fear not, Your Highness.” He continues as if he isn’t just driving you wild. Ruining your insides with the constant, rhythmic squelching of his large cockhed—pushing and pushing. And pushing.
Choso stares up at you with a half-lidded gaze - direct eye contact even when he’s craning upwards to bite down on your left nipple. Dark lashes fluttering, “For every part of me is likewise yours.”
“Every part?” You shudder.
“Every part.” In emphasis, his cock throbs furiously inside you.
Succeeding in swervin’ in each glittering droplet of precum and slick and seed back in. He groans, “And you know you can ride this lowly knight as much as you want- as hard as you want.”
“I…” Your mouth feels as parched as a desert, “I would like that, my knight.”
Leaning slightly back on the bed, he’s letting you take more control. “Ride me- ride me dry, princess.” Just so achingly needy for you that you could almost taste it.
His salted-caramel taste sizzling at the back of your throat- his vanilla scent filling up your every other sense. You could now fit the pace to whatever you liked, “Sh-shit-” To whatever massaging rubs against your bundled nerves. “Shit—it’s almost t-too much. Impossible to believe.”
“Yeah? Feels good, doesn’t it?” Choso’s on board with his hand planted underneath your ass. Using a singular hand, he’s manhandling your hips up and down—up and down. Jerking you almost like a ragdoll down his incredible size, he lets every drop of his drivelling precum get sucked dry by your cute cunt. “Feels good riding your m-most loyal knight? Feels good making such a mess of me—oh?”
“It does.” You’re so stupid on his cock by now that you simply have to confess. “I—fuck, I must be true- it does.”
“Good.” Spittle drools down one edge of his lips. Choso Kamo wanted to be used.
He wasn’t letting you even bounce your hips away for a mere millisecond- always chasing the back of your pussy with his cockhead. He hisses, “Feels good just- fuck, being fucked by the very man sworn to protect you, hm? Feels good knowing that all those years I’ve wanted this- all this time, I’ve imagined it like some pervert—” Choso casts a glance around the grand room, “All the nights I was here. All the days I spent watching you. Feels good knowing that I would’ve died just for a taste of your sweet cunt, huh?”
Thumb faster n’ faster on your clit.
“Feels good knowing that I shan’t ever in this life, nor any others, even so much as look at another?”
And another one of his rugged hands lifts up from your thighs to cup your cheek - he lets you hold your own chasing your high. Slurping and swallowing his fat cock between your legs intensely, as Choso wipes away a stray tear cascading down your cheek.
“Feels good knowing that you have bewitched me—you and this damn- pretty pussy.”
“Yes-” You’re whimpering out loud enough for it to echo across these four gilded walls. Your mind being a complete mess. “Yes, yes, yes—and I’m gonna…”
“Fuck.”
He’s feeling it before you do once you finally crash into your high.
It’s your second of the night, and just because you’re slightly overstimulated from it doesn’t mean that Choso’s about to slow down. Instead, he’s drilling into you with achingly needy strikes - all vicious pumps against the spot of your nerves, and then nicely sliding down the back of your cervix. Over and over.
A long overarching wave of your orgasm- “Ch-Choso.” One that leaves your body limp and helpless to the way he crushes you against his beating chest. “Need you to cum inside, Choso.”
You’re pleasing up at him in a way that’s irresistible.
“Let your climax at least settle, impatient princess.” He’s lightly chuckling. Increasing his ministrations on your poor clit - only elongating your zaps of pleasure.
Until he seemed to be numbing your body completely with so many sensations, all bubbling through your veins and pouring out in the form of your sweetened slick. “But I want it.” You huff. “What if that was an order?”
“Oh, you really are my spoiled princess. Even after I’ve already given you m-my cock and two orgasms…and my heart.” He’s echoing out in a parched tone. Increasing and increasing the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you - until it you’re been fucked considerably past the twinges of your high.
Straight into another.
And it seemed to be exactly what Choso was waiting for- before he’s throwing his head back and cumming right in unison with you. “Fuuuuck- take it all.” Words trembling. “Take it all, my dearest princess, take it all from your knight.”
And you can feel him empty it out inside you.
His heavy balls twitching with the looong stripes of sap he was flooding out, they splosh against each of your crevices. Pumped deeper inside with every thrust. The smell of his arousal just twitches something dark and carnal within you- and you’re pushing your face into the crook of his neck. Inhaling that soft vanilla accent.
So in contrast with the pelvis slamming against yours, hard enough that his skin starts to redden. The sheer force of it is enough to make you flinch back - and enough for him to hold onto your body in any way he can and pin you down to his front.
Unable to escape, you can only whine at the way he fucks you through his high. “Oh my…” Your mouth starts to water. No novel or scandal sheet had ever described this before. “Ch-Choso you’re the best.”
And you swear that only makes him cum harder.
So much of it that it begins to trickle out of your hole almost immediately- something that Choso certainly couldn’t have.
So he swipes his thumb down from your clit and starts swabbin’ those wads back inside.
“I ache for you.” He’s whimpering out, big bulbous tears glimmering on the edges of his lashes. His pink lips jut out into what almost looks like a pout, “My dearest princess, I ache for you-” Followed by the sharp inhale of breath once he grazes over your clit once more. “-so much so that it’s leaking out.”
“I ache for you, too, Choso. So much.”
“Hah…not as much as I do for you.” As if the petering out of his ribbony white cum had ultimately brought back an inkling of his rationality again. “Though for a lowly knight to be so forward-”
You’re leaning down and wiping away the tears from his handsome cheeks. “Choso…you would never be undeserving of me.” It’s the firm tone that makes him freeze, snapping his head to you with sheeny eyes. “In fact, I could argue that it is I who does not deserve y-”
Choso doesn’t let you finish that sentence.
He’s kissing you long and sound.
And as he smiles against your lips, you decide that you have a long conversation to be had with your father at daybreak.
As heir to the throne.
.
.
.
There is a celebration in the bejeweled chapel that morning.
Though not of a wedding, rather…a coronation.
With the promise of a wedding.
And as you sit upon your velvet throne, the crown jewels balanced heavily on your head and your hands, you feel the folded-up piece of paper tucked away in your locket. Humming.
You catch Choso’s eye, closest amongst the row of knights at attention.
You wink.
He smiles.
Yuji shoots you a thumbs up.
Yaga watches the scene and smiles a slight smile.
Shoko could not have looked more smug.
And Naoya? Though the Zenin family was happy to attend, one such prince was pointedly not invited. Nor would he be claiming any thrones any time soon.
As the ceremony continues, the letter pulses with delight-
“My dearest princess,
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Your dearest knight.”
.
.
.
Dearest gentle reader,
Church bells are a-toll—though not for a royal wedding (though be patient, and we shall see the very same soon)—for it’s a royal coronation!
Her Highness, the princess, both shocked and scandalized the Ton at the Royal Diamond Ball last night by attending to her first dance with none other than…her personal knight. Yes, Sir Choso Kamo was chosen personally by the daring royal to be the gentleman that sweeps her off of her feet (on the dance floor).
And query any ogling noble at the ball that night, and should they find the time between plucking the flies out of their mouth, then all shall confirm that the young couple was rather…scandalously close. Though keeping to his hands confined to places the Ton would approve of, it was rather evident that the way the princess and her knight looked at each other was ripped straight from a fairy tale. The romance!
And just as any good fairy tale should have an obvious villain, this writer’s insiders claim that Prince Naoya Zenin was certainly not happy with the incident.
Though you must forgive this dear writer if my memory of such dudgeon royal guests is far from perfect. For I was far too occupied with the later…disappearance of Her Highness.
And most conveniently, her knight, as well.
The princess was most certainly not present as she was dubbed the Diamond of the season, nor would she have been able to keep her eyes (or hand) away from Sir Choso long enough to notice. You read that right, dear reader, the Ton has positively been fanning themselves all morning at the juicy details being whispered down palace halls.
My trusted sources claim that the princess and her knight had been locked up in her royal bed chambers…all night. And though the contents of what they may have gotten up to inside this chamber is all speculation, late-night patrol down the palace halls claim they heard the most…peculiar noises emanating from the princess’s bedroom.
All. Night. Long.
Though, of course, Her Highness’s ultimate return to the ball long past the Diamond announcement is a source of many rumors—this eagle-eyed writer would like to point out something else entirely.
Bite marks. Unsteady gait.
Glowing.
Perhaps all coincidence, of course, that Sir Choso Kamo had donned his knight’s armor and hidden any of his own marks from view. It is undeniable that the princess had been carrying evidence of a knight—my apologies, I meant night well-spent!
And perhaps most damning of all might be the fact that - after a terse discussion with His Majesty, the King, as my sources say - an announcement was made at the very cusp end of the ball.
Of the princess’s coronation as Queen tomorrow, and of Sir Choso Kamo’s induction as King Consort. He shall henceforth and forevermore be known as King Consort Choso Kamo, Duke of Kamo Estate.
And lastly, of a summer wedding, due on the horizon. (Sources also claim something else due…a bundle of joy perhaps between the young couple.)
But that is enough of speculation—oh, what was that?
I can hear your cries, gentle reader, I can hear them! Worry not, this writer is yet to forget a single detail of the most succulent gossip from the Ton - I already foresee your queries about what happened to Her Majesty’s secret admirer then.
I believe you shall be delighted to know that my insider tells me that…the very secret admirer you speak of is now King Consort. What a romantic twist to the tale!
Now as Prince Naoya fumes and my readers rejoice, excuse me while I dry my tears and pick out my best summer arrangements for this royal wedding—for you know that this writer must always be on the scene!
We wish the happy royal couple all the best with their preparations!
Yours Truly,
Lady Whistledown.
A/N. Any guesses on who Lady Whistledown might just be??
letting gojo fuck you raw might have been a mistake, especially now that he wants kids.. ☆
part one here
yes—it felt good. heavenly, even. feeling him fill you up without a contraceptive barrier between you might overlap an ego death on the life-altering-experiences venn diagram.
but now your boyfriend throws a tantrum whenever you tell him to wrap it. he pouts and whines and stamps his fucking feet like a child at your child-preventative measures. he’s too tall to act like a toddler—if you didn’t secretly enjoy the pining you’d hit him upside the back of his head and tell him to stop sulking.
“we’re too young to be parents,” you’d tell him as he rubs his uncovered cock through your folds, from your entrance up to your sensitive clit and back down.
his counter? “ the earlier we start, the longer we have to try for more. ”
“maybe you're forgetting the whole ‘jujutsu sorcerer, could-die-at-any-moment ' thing?”
“are you forgetting that i’m the strongest? plus, i think i’d look hot saving the world wearing a baby carrier… not that i would endanger our kid like that. bad point, ask me a new one.”
“we aren’t playing trivia.”
“cmon,” a tap of the head of his cock to your clit. “humour me.”
“alright, children are fucking expensive.”
“babe, you’re not serious—you do know i’m filthy rich, right? capitalism fears me. i’m like that rich disney duck with the top hat and—”
you point a finger in his face. “put a goddamn condom on or you’re banned from sex for a month, scrooge.”
and he blinks, pretends to be offended at how responsible you are, and then falls into an easy smile because sex with you is more than enough for him. when he sinks into you, condom-covered or not, he falls a little bit more in love each time.
but it is not the same and you know it.
the weight of him on top of you is the same. as is the snapping thrusts of his hips into yours and the gentle circles he traces over your clit and the way he moans your name once he’s sheathed fully inside of you. it’s the same.
but it’s not the same as taking him raw. it’s not the bulge of his veins against your velvet walls. nor is it the beading precum at his tip dripping inside of you, or the filthy fucking drawling moans he lets out when he fills you to the brim.
“you’re so beautiful,” he's moaning like he's in heat. completely enthralled with every aspect of your being, satoru groans and moans and snaps forward into you like he's trying to breed you regardless.
and you're so full, stretched to your limits with his cock pulsing inside of you, but you don't feel satiated like you could. you've tasted it once, the feel of his cum spilling into you, the knowledge of what it could do to you. to him. he would look good as a dad. god, him holding a baby in his arms...
"pull out."
gojo stops immediately at your words, blinking the lust from his eyes in an immediate shock change of expression. he's looking you over, making sure you're not in any pain, before pulling out of you completely with no questions asked. he's always been good like that—sure, he'll whine about wearing latex but he'd never push you past your spoken limits.
"you wanna stop?" he asks gently, already reaching for a washcloth to wipe you down with. his eyes watch you carefully, obsessed with your interest and comfort: you have to stop yourself from laughing at his panic. "we can watch some TV or go to bed or i could make you—"
his words die in his mouth when you reach down to his still-hard cock and slowly pull the condom that covers it from the top. it slides from his length with a little resistance before finally pulling over the head and snapping back at your hand with a subtle sting.
"fuck me," you meet his eyes.
"what? you said—"
"satoru. fuck me. breed me, even. how many other ways do i have to put it? i want you to fuck a baby into me."
he blinks again. no witty comment, no awful smirk or joke about being a dilf. you've gone and rendered satoru speechless. when he does finally move his lips, it's not to dirty talk you like expected.
"we aren't married."
you can't help but laugh. "what?"
"i'm going to marry you first, and then you are going to make me a dad. i have it all planned out, babe, we can't have drunk honeymoon sex if you're pregnant. though you would look fucking beautiful on a beach somewhere with a baby bump. god now i'm conflicted."
"you have it planned?"
the thought of satoru planning this out hits you, him thinking about a future with you, a ring on your finger, embracing the stress of parenthood together so well that when the kids move out and you're old and grey, you abhor having a silent home.
"so are you going to propose or not?" you look at him.
again, he blinks. "right now?"
"why not? do you have a ring?"
satoru looks at you, smiles, and slips off the bed—still naked—to reach into the bedside drawer. a small black box sits in his top drawer, ironically under a pile of condoms. he holds it in his hand and returns to you with a kiss to your knee, and then one to your inner thigh, and another just above your clit. he works his way up your stomach, of course stopping to bite at your nipples when he reaches your chest, and then presses himself fully against you once his lips find yours.
when he pulls away, you're met with the sight of a ring you had pointed out to him months ago. had he really been planning this long? "i knew i was going to marry you on our first date," he says, but then counters, "actually, that's a lie. it was when i tasted that sweet pussy of yours for the first time, but that's not as romantic."
you smile, bracing yourself for a long-winded speech when satoru suddenly pushes the tip of his now-uncovered cock inside of you. you gasp, and he swallows it with a kiss before taking your hand in his and slipping the ring down your finger with a breathy; "will you marry me?"
"yes," of course, is your answer. which warrants a sudden deep thrust from your now-fiancé as he bottoms out inside of you.
"yeah?" he nips at your neck. "you'll marry me? gonna make me a dad too, huh? gonna fill you up, baby, gonna breed you out and—"
"i thought you said—"
"changed my mind. now, lift your legs up: you're not leaving this bed until i've knocked you up, pretty."
this is a repost from my old fricks handle im not stealing it trust
summary! after the fight, satoru ignores you for what feels like an eternity out of his own selfishness. then, after shoko drags you to a party he's also attending, he gets ferally jealous over his friend nanami whose getting a bitttt too close for comfort, taking a body shot off of his sweet 'girlfriend's' body. but, does he really have a say in this after what he did? (nanami swoops in and saves reader.) (angst to comfort, messy, toxic relationship dynamics, gojo is a fuckwit still) !! soooo ooc for gojo.
disclaimer: this is all unhealthy, do not chase this and/or leave comments about it. i'm well aware, and so is everyone else, trust me 😭 didn't like it? stop reading and don't leave hateful comments 💔
wc: 7k || inspo from my mean!sukuna x shy!nerd!reader
satoru had handled this situation in the worse possible way, he knew that.
he knew how bad he fucked up, how much of an asshole he was for crashing out that hard. really, he knew!
but, like all immature men, he couldn't stop himself from going that extra mile by blatantly ignoring you after that night.
not because he didn't like you, god no. because he just couldn't deal with that look in your eye, the one that said 'i know i shouldn't be with you, but i'm too attached to let you go.' he hated it.
so, he drowned his worries in alcohol and parties, because what else was he supposed to do? talk about how he felt? yuck. that wasn't really something he was capable of.
in his defense, he didn't let another girl touch him from that point on. (sure, he flaunted around shirtless for all of them to gawk at, but looking never hurt anyone, right?) whether or not that was because he felt guilty for being in a relationship and acting single or if he really valued your feelings was yet to be determined..
things were different on your side of things.
you knew how fucked up this situation was. the only issue? you didn't know what to do. you'd never been in a relationship before, let alone had someone treat you like that, so this was tricky.
you did the thing you did when all things were tilting sideways, you called shoko.
"he WHAT?!?" oh wow, two people yelling in your ear in one week, perfect.
"i just… i dunno shoko… what do i even do?"
"shit… i don't know, but that mother fucker has me messed up if he thinks i'm not gonna tell everyone about this. fuckkkk no."
your face went red immediately. "shoko, maybe don't tell-"
"i won't, i wont. i'm just pissed off, who does he think he is? talking to you like that?"
"i don't know shoko… i'm so confused on what to do.."
shoko knew what to do, she knew exactly what to do. despite him being an insufferable pos, gojo was one of shokos friends. (she uses the word 'friend' very loosely.) so she knew how to hit him hard.
"are you mad? does what he did make you upset?"
"yes, i'm so mad, i just don't know what to do with my feelings." you sigh. you weren't confrontational, nor boisterous. your reaction of anger felt like a slight blip compared to most, but that doesn't mean you didn't feel it just as much.
"you're mad, you're upset, i get it. what he did was fucked up, y/n. you and me both know this isn't going anywhere, so, why not piss him off royally before inevitably ending things with that fuck wit?"
you thought about that, for a long time. sure, if you were anything like yuki or maki, you'd be out at some function screwing his best friend. but you weren't like that. you didn't know the first thing about emotional warfare. all you knew is that you felt angry, not only did he hurt you, but he had the audacity to ignore you now of all times, not come over, miss your calls?
no, shoko was right.
"what do you think i should do?"
~
11pm, saturday.
"this isn't want i had in mind.." you sigh shyly, holding shoko's arm as she pulls you through the rowdy crowd packed full into this loud family type of house. you weren't confrontational dressed in a cute, shot dress that really put you on display. totally out of your comfortable zone but shoko insisted this was critical to success.
"don't worry, you'll be fine. just stick with me and we'll figure it out from there." she reply's, yelling over the shitty drake song they had bumping over the loudspeaker.
“oh, by the way, he’s here,” she says boredly, “satoru showed up like an hour ago according to yuki.”
your stomach drops to the center of the earth, because wow. this was getting really real, really fast. shoko squeezes your arm, she's steady as always. “don’t freak out. this is perfect.”
you wince at her. “perfect?”
“yeah. you wanna get under his skin? just exist. you don’t even gotta try.” she nudges you toward the living room. “you’re cute as fuck. guys notice you without you doing anything, y/n. he knows that. let him deal with it when he finally clocks you. watch him switch up from ignoring you, to falling to your feet. pathetic fucking man.” she mutters bitterly under her smokey breath.
you push a strand of hair behind your ear shyly. “i don’t know how to… make someone jealous.”
“you don’t have to.” she guides you through a cluster of people and toward an open couch near the wall. “just sit. someone will come talk to you within, hmm… ten minutes? trust.”
shoko pulls you down onto the couch, and you sink into the leather trying to get comfy. she sits there, looking laid back as fuck like usual, lighting up a cigarette indoors because she seriously couldn't give less of a shit. you watch the people in the lounge mingle and dance, it all looked so easy for them, it was making you nervous. god, how were you ever gonna pull this off when looking at people socialising made you jittery?
shoko snaps her tongue and nods her chin toward the hallway. “told you.”
you look up just as two men push through the people. the first is tall with dark hair that hangs over his eyes, a black hoodie half zipped over a nice, tight shirt. choso. you’d seen him once or twice around campus, he was a plug everyone was chill with.
the second is quite the opposite, hes got blond hair with beautiful, broad shoulders. he's dressed very well for a random house party with a black dress shirt rolled up to show off his muscular forearms and a pair of well fitting jeans. yum. nanami. you’d never talked to him, only heard his name in passing when gojo complained about someone being too serious in their friend group.
they spot you and ieiri pretty quick.
choso’s face lifts in recognition at shoko. “yo.”
she smiles. “sukuna's been talking up your stuff, got any on you?”
that’s all it takes for him to flop onto the couch next to her, "y'know it."
they talk about some new strain he picked up, shoko starts bargaining, choso rolls his eyes, both of them are in their own small bubble, it seems.
then nanami comes closer, he sits on your other side but not too close, not really far, either. it's a good, respectful distance. he gives you a small smile. “evening.”
oh wow. his voice.
you manage a quiet “hi.” through the nerves creeping up on you.
he looks over you like some hot professor grading a good students paper, then he rubs the back of his neck, “i haven’t seen you here before, sweetheart.”
you look down at your palms. “i… uh, don’t usually come to parties.”
“that tracks,” he says. “you don’t have the whole soulless glare a lot of these people have.”
oh, so he's funny too? your face gets redder and redder, you're so glad the lights are low. this man was slowly becoming the perfect candidate for ticking off satoru, who of which you were yet to spot, that scared you..
“what’s your major?” he smiles, knocking you out of your little mind blip.
you tell him softly, looking up at him through the curled lashes shoko did on you earlier, trying not to get drowned out by lady gaga singing through the speaker.
he tilts toward you so he can hear you better, but he doesn’t crowd you. “huh, that suits you,” he says. “girls as breathtaking as you always pick that one.”
and a flirt? yeeeeesh.
he's so calm and steady with the way he annunciates his speech. you’re used to loud mouths like satoru, guys bumping into you or shouting over each other. nanami feels like the opposite of every boy in this house.
nanami's usually very blunt with women, but for some reason, he feels so drawn to you. his first instinct when he saw you sitting on the couch was to scoop you up, take you upstairs, and keep you safe for the rest of your life, you definitely had that aura about you.
he clears his throat, then nods toward your dress, appreciating your figure briefly. “so, did shoko drag you here?”
your shy laugh answers before you do. “yeah.”
shit, her laugh is adorable. “thought so. she has a habit of dropping her friends into situations they’re not prepared for.”
you look over at her. she’s leaning into choso now talking about prices, both of them relaxed. “i… guess she thinks i need it, thinks i'm too shy.” you say, twirling at a strand of your hair, hiding behind the real reason you were here..
nanami hums in thought, just a small sound of acknowledgment. “there’s nothing wrong with quiet,” he says. i love quiet. “people mistake it for weakness. it isn’t.”
you smile softly. “you, uhm, you kinda talk like a guidance counselor.”
that earns a real reaction from him. a short exhale that might be a laugh, though he restrains it like everything else about him. “i get that a lot.”
your nerves dissipate a tad.
he keeps the conversation going without forcing anything. he asks about your classes, if you’re enjoying them, what you like outside of school. he listens, deeply, with full attention, his eyes on yours, his posture angled in a way that tells you he cares about your answers.
nobody ever does that.
you peek at him when he asks about your hobbies. he waits patiently for you to answer, no teasing, and no rushing. he was taking your personality so well.
you tell him you like to bake when you're stressed out, or how you like to go to different cafe sports with shoko.
“what lovely hobbies you have, y/n? was it?.”
“y-yeah, it's y/n.”
"such a pretty name."
you let out another shy laugh. “thank you.”
“it suits you,” he says. your heart makes a small, confused jump. you aren’t used to compliments that feel this gentle. not thrown out like confetti. not made as jokes, just nice and honest.
nanami throws an arm around the back of the couch, but doesn't touch your shoulders. he still keeps a respectful ways away, somehow still felling like he's close. you, by instinct, shift closer to him , your face blushing a deeper pink.
he notices your movement and smiles, “you’re adorable,” he says with his voice dropping down into that sexy drawl he does. “sorry if that’s too forward, your face is just so pretty.”
you're sure you'd died and acceded to heaven, because what? there was no way in hell this gorgeous, calm, 6'3 hunk of a man was being so outwardly flirty towards you. you knew you were cute, but not at all charismatic, this all felt so foreign to you.
you nod your head. “thank yo.” you breathe out.
he studies your reaction but not in a predatory way. he's more curious like he’s trying to get you without overstepping. “you’re not used to hearing that, are you?”
you look down. “not… like that.”
his eyes linger on your face, he's studying your every reaction. “you should hear it endlessly.”
you don’t know what to do with that.
and then, he adds quietly, “i don’t usually approach anyone at parties. but you caught my eye, sweetheart.”
by now your shyness was loosening inch by inch. he’s handsome in a toned down kinda way. he's dressed cleanly, with his hair styled like he actually tries, a face too pretty to be real but serious enough to balance it all out.
you didn’t know this type of guy existed here.
you didn’t know someone like him would look at someone like you.
"hm, if you don't mind my asking, are you romantically involved? i apologies if that's too much, i know we just met. i'd only like to make my intentions clear. respectfully, of course."
you try to answer, but you really, really don't want to. how were you supposed to tell this man you had a boyfriend, one that you were planning on dumping and that you only came here to make him jealous, and worst of all, he was the man you subconsciously picked out to do the job? yeah, no. you stayed silent with the same blush coating your cheeks.
nanami knows what you're saying without saying it. you most likely had someone you were with/talking too, but they were 'underperforming', as he liked to put it. you had to be at least a little interested in him, right? otherwise you wouldn't of been rubbing your thigh up against his like a needy puppy. hm, that'd do for him. he'd knock you off your pretty little feet, then swoop you away. you were too cute to pass up, exactly his type.
he takes pity on your flustered state and shifts the subject. “do parties overwhelm you?”
you nod before you speak. “a little.”
“well, you’re handling it perfectly.”
you shake your head with a nervous giggle. “i’m just… trying not to think too hard, i guess.”
nanami smiles for the millionth time that night, (very unusual for him.). “you’re doing much better than you think.”
your fingers twist together. “why are you being so nice?”
“because i want to be,” he answers without hesitation. “and because you look like you’re trying. that deserves a little kindness.”
you glance at his profile. he’s watching the room again, protective in a quiet way. you think about how different he feels from satoru, theres no chaos, no big bright spotlight, no pushing boundaries for the sake of it. nanami sits beside you like he’s zip tying you to the couch, giving you a center point to breathe around.
he looks over at you again. “if it’s too much at any point, tell me. i’ll walk you outside.”
nobody has ever said something like that to you in a space like this. not with that level of sincerity, not satoru, ever.
you nod, suddenly very aware of the point in where your thighs meet. “okay.”
nanami leans his elbow on his knee, posture relaxed yet attentive. “you’re doing fine.”
you look at him and something in your chest shifts. not dramatic, not jolting, just a calm pull. like he’s showing you a version of attention you never knew you were allowed to have.
“thanks,” you whisper.
he gives another small smile, eyes dipping to your lips for a second before he looks away again.
and that’s where everything starts to rattle around and change subtly. you were most definitely falling for this man.
you drift a little as he talks, still keyed into him but pulled by a tug in the corner of your vision. you glance past a pair of guys arguing over pong rules and see satoru near the kitchen doorway, freakishly tall frame tipped toward sukuna as they talk, your heart breaks from the sight of him, the thought of your last message being left on seen while he was out here doing… this.
he’s cackling at something with his head thrown back, he looks fine. way too fine. and that upsets you more than anything he'd done to you so far.
your shoulders decide to curl in before you can stop yourself. it’s small, but nanami notices.
“hey, something wrong?” he asks quietly, leaning in just a bit so the noise of the room doesn’t swallow you up.
you shake your head then sigh because lying feels pointless. he already read you once tonight, and somehow that makes it easier to let it spill.
“i didn’t come here for fun,” you say, fingers rubbing at the hem of your dress. “i’m kind of… dealing with something. or trying to.”
he waits with that appreciative stare, he's left an open space for you to step into if you want.
you take it.
“i… uh…" you sigh and spit it out, "gojo is my boyfriend,” you start, nanami’s brow lifts at that, like he’s running through every memory he has of satoru and coming up short. “or… i don’t know if he is, honestly. he was. we were together. and then we had a little…” fight? no, you can't call it a fight, more like a humiliation ritual where you sat there, got berated, then hugged him because your heart was too big for a man so small minded.
you look up to see him staring at you so sweetly, he's not trying to juice it out of you, he just looks like the safest person to spill your guts to, so you do. you tell this new found man everything, the words come out uneven, and maybe a little strained, but they come.
you tell him about seeing the video of that girl taking a shot off of his body, how he was smiling and laughing while his girl was at home waiting, how when he got home and saw you watching the video he had no idea was taken, he went off at you. how all you could do was apologies for him, because you knew he'd never utter the words himself.
then you mention the way he looked guilty after, the way he seemed ready to fix it.
and how he then spent the entire week ignoring you anyway..
nanami doesn’t interrupt. he just listens, elbow resting against the back of the couch, posture relaxed but attention locked on you. listening. intently listening.
“shoko suggested coming here and… i don't know, make him feel what he did to me… but,” you say, rubbing your hands together. “but it feels so pointless now. i feel silly.”
nanami’s expression sours. he seems more thoughtful like he’s reassessing everything he ever assumed about his 'friend'.
“gojo, huh? he never mentioned you,” he says, calm as ever. “not once.”
you nod, sadly. “yeah. shoko said he wasn’t exactly open about our… thing.”
nanami studies your eyes. “hm. that tracks,” he mutters bitterly, more to himself than to you.
you look down at your hands again. “it’s embarrassing… i.. i let him treat me like that, and i hate it.”
nanami’s voice turns from passive aggressive to reassuring in a heartbeat.
“you didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. “you trusted someone who didn’t know how to be decent with that trust. that’s his problem, not yours.”
he was a good therapist, you'd give him that. all the stress of this situation felt like it was evaporating under his thought out assessment.
he studies your face once more. “you’re way too sweet for him,” he says plainly. “and too pretty. too beautiful for someone who doesn’t appreciate what he has.”
you blink up at him, stunned. he doesn’t say it like a line. it doesn’t sound like some cheesy tactic to get you flustered, even though it definitely does. he says it like he’s stating a fact he can’t quite believe gojo overlooked.
“i’m serious,” he adds when you don’t answer immediately. “you deserve someone who actually shows up. someone who knows how lucky he is.”
nanami feels like the opposite of satoru in every possible way. grounded, warm in a quiet, unshowy way. he makes up space instead of taking it all and throwing it around.
you look past nanami’s shoulder for a second and catch satoru again. he’s chugging his drink, leaning into sukuna’s shoulder as they argue about something stupid. he looks the same as he always does. the same boy who made you feel wanted, then discarded, then sorry for being upset.
he hasn’t looked your way once, was he seriously this oblivious to his surroundings?
“you came here hoping he’d notice you,” nanami says, voice gentle but straightforward. “but he’s too focused on himself to see what’s in front of him.”
you nod, looking up and catching his eye. normally, you're horrible with eye contact, but he was making it so easy.
nanami leans closer, enough that you hear him clearly even over the music. he looks at you with want in his gaze, it makes your thighs squeeze together.
“if you really want to get through to him,” he says slowly, “there are better ways than sitting here hoping he looks over.”
you tilt your head. “what do you mean?”
nanami doesn’t answer. instead, he sits back against the couch, eyes rolling just slightly as he glances across the room toward where gojo stands.
you’ve never seen nanami look intrigued before. but the expression fits him in a strangely attractive way.
when he looks back at you, his gaze is steady enough that your breath nearly stalls.
“i thinki know exactly how to help you, sweetheart. but only if you’re willing.”
you give him that look that says 'i'd do anything for you.'.
he smirks at your cute expression, then stands from the couch still holding your gaze, and then offers his hand. an invitation that makes your pulse skip for reasons you try not to think about.
when you take it, his fingers curl around your arm and he guides you through the crowd. he doesn’t drag you. he leads you through gently, he knows exactly where he wants you and why.
you follow him straight toward the kitchen where half the house seems to have gathered. the counter is cluttered with cups and sticky spills, and a beer pong table is set up with an eager crowd around it. voices layer over each other, laughter juttering out as people cheer on whoever’s playing.
as soon as nanami steps inside the circle, “nanami! finally showed up,” yuji calls, bright as ever.
“look at this guy,” shiu adds, lifting his drink in greeting. “didn’t think you left the houe after sunset.”
toji bumps nanami’s shoulder as he passes. “thought you bailed on us tonight, old man.”
“you’re two years older than me,” nanami replies calmly, which only makes toji smile wider.
yuki waves from the corner. “don’t scare him off. we need him sober enough to beat sukuna at pong.”
the energy is loud and tough, it’s impossible not to feel it pulling you in. nanami’s hand stays on your arm just a second longer before he lets go, placing you beside him like that’s exactly where you should be.
people return to their game, taking shots when they miss cups. there’s a small clutter of people watching, and the more chaotic it gets, the bigger the crowd grows.
nanami leans down, voice close and quiet at your ear, soft enough that it feels private even in the middle of all this noise.
“do you trust me?”
you look up at him, and it’s embarrassingly easy to answer. maybe it’s the way he looks at you like you’re someone worth taking seriously. maybe it’s the steadiness of him, the way you don’t feel lost near him. maybe it’s just because he’s unfairly attractive and you’re not immune to men with good shoulders and forearms.
“yes,” you say before you can second guess it. “i do.”
his smiles small and certain, he already knew you’d say that. “good.”
he steps away to speak to toji, who listens with a grin, eyes flicking between you and nanami. then toji’s mouth pulls into a slow, wicked smirk.
“alright, listen up!” toji shouts, slapping his palm against the table until everyone quiets down a bit. “we’re switching games. body shots.”
groans, cheers, catcalls.
you blink, heat gathering under your skin as you stare at nanami. because you know. of course you know. he’s not exactly subtle about the direction this is going. oh god.
“rules are simple,” toji continues. “pairs do rock paper scissors. loser takes a shot out of the other’s collarbone.”
the crowd reacts immediately, already invested. people elbow each other, laughing, pushing friends toward the table.
you swallow. “nanami…”
he doesn’t push you forward. he just stands beside you, close enough that you catch the faint warmth of him. “just watch,” he says quietly. “it's not your turn yet, pretty.”
yet.
the word almost knocks your knees out.
toji and yuki are up first since toji called it. they face each other, hands ready.
“best out of one,” toji says.
they throw.
yuki does paper, toji does scissors, yuki loses.
toji leans back against the cleared space of the table, he hollows out his shoulder with his shirt collar tugged aside as yuji pours vodka into the dip of his collarbone. the line of his body draws attention, the sharp cut of muscle on display. yuki rolls her eyes but steps forward, brushing her hair back before dipping her head and taking the shot.
guys cheer, girls whistle, someone screams that yuki is a legend.
next up is yuki and maki because yuki refuses to back down after losing round one. they face off again, hands ready.
yuki loses. again.
maki smirks, tilting his head as she tugs her strap down just slightly to reveal the spot where the shot will be poured. toji cheers dramatically, encouraging the room to get louder, he loved commanding attention.
when yuki leans in, the men in the crowd lose their minds, whooping and hollering like they’ve never seen two women do anything mildly suggestive in their lives.
you shift on your feet, flustered and nervous, trying not to think about what nanami has planned. because you’re pretty sure you know. and you’re even more sure you’re not prepared for it.
people are pressing closer, gathering from the hallway and the living room. you spot choso weaving through the crowd with shoko at his side, both of them curious enough to head straight toward the commotion.
shoko catches your eye, lifts a brow, and mouths, what the hell is happening?
you just shrug.
manami stands tall next to you with his thumbs hooked in his pockets, he's looking over the crowd with a level of focus that makes your stomach knot up.
then he stiffens ever so slightly, you follow his eyes.
gojo is there. he’s near the center of the group now, easy to spot, easy to hear. he looks like he belongs here, like nothing’s wrong in his world. not a single sign he even knows you walked into the room.
you hated how bad this hurt.
nanami watches your face fall and a sense of anger shoots throughout his body.
his eyes turn challenging, it’s the first real sign that he’s about to do something.
he wraps his big, strong hand around yours, he studies your face one last time, checking for any sign you’ve changed your mind.
you nod before he even asks, because you really want this, not even for the sake of making satoru feel something, at this point you're content with doing whatever nanami wanted.
that’s all he needs.
he guides you toward the table lightly. conversations flatten as people notice the two of you stepping into the center of the circle. someone whistles when they get a proper look at you under the kitchen light. someone else nudges a friend and points, already stirring things up. "she's so cute."
toji clocks it and chuckles like he’s just been handed the best toy in the house.
“alright,” he calls out, waving his cup in the air, “we got a new pair.”
you watch as the people push closer and become more intrigued, more commotion than before.
gojo’s head snaps over.
his laugh dies. his smile stops. he freezes so cleanly it’s almost funny, except nothing about it feels light. he stares like his brain needs a second to catch up to what he’s seeing.
you. here. at the table. next to nanami?
and nanami isn’t backing away.
your chest thumps with adrenaline, but you force yourself to keep your eyes from switching to that pest.
nanami steps right infront of you, his broad chest and muscular torso blocking your sight so you face him instead of the man burning a hole into you from across the kitchen.
two of his fingers brush your chin, pushing so you're looking up at him with that beautiful expression.
“trust me,” he mumbled enough that only you hear it. "i'll be gentle with you, sweetheart. i promise"
you melt into his touch and nod.
toji barks out, “rock, paper, scissors!”
the chant picks up around you, everyone watching as you and nanami hold out your hands. you throw, nanami throws too.
he loses.
and you hear some 'ooouuu's' from the crowd.
a wave of noise rises, people cheering, hollering, leaning in to see what happens next. nanami doesn’t look bothered at all. in fact, he looks like he planned it from the beginning, a slow smirk slipping across his face as he turns to you. yeah, he wanted this, he wanted to be the one to take the shot.
“come here,” he says.
he guides you toward the cleared section of the table holding your waist. you lean back as he directs, hands braced behind you. you feel so provocative in such a position, waiting for this man to suck at your neck, but you could care less in this moment.
“suck in your neck,” nanami says quietly, leaning in so only you hear him. “i’ll be gentle.” he reassures for the second time.
toji steps in with the bottle. he moves slower with you than he did with the others, pouring carefully into the hollow of your collarbone, the chilled liquor makes your jitter, but nanami steadies you, holding your waist still.
the blonde smiles at the sight of the alcohol sitting there ready for him to drink. you were a beautiful display, lying there all for him, it makes his chest blip and his face heat.
he leans in.
and he really takes his time about it, satoru was watching after all. he lowers his head slowly, caging your body in with a hand in either side of your torso against the table.
he dips his head down and sucks at the liquid.
his mouth is hot against your skin, his lips feel so good, so powerfully dominant, you try your best not to let out a sound.
he doesn’t drag it out too far, but he doesn’t rush it either. he stays just enough to make the room react exactly how he wants. the people are going nuts, mainly because nanami never did this sort of thing, he was strictly business no party, but seeing him indulge, especially with a girl as cute as you, it was mesmerising. for most people, of course, not satoru.
he was seething. he was watching this all play out with the most feral, jealous look on his face.
all he wanted to do was push through the crowd and pull you away from nanami. but how could he? firstly, no one was even aware the two of you were 'dating' because he kept it a secret, and secondly, he'd be the biggest hypocrite of the century… ignoring you for a week the dictating your life? after all, he had done this exact thing to you, and it was really dawning on him how fucked up this felt..
to add insult to injury, nanami goes further.
he pulls your body into his by your hips, and sucks at your neck long after he'd drank the liquor. nanami was practically kissing and sucking at your neck in front of a crowd that was eating it the fuck up.
gojo sees nothing but red fury.
at first he’s frozen, still trying to compute. then comes the confusion, hitting sharp. and then anger. real anger. he looks between you and nanami like he’s watching something he wasn’t supposed to see, like someone reached inside his ribs and yanked something out.
he can’t look away.
he doesn’t blink.
he’s furious.
but underneath all of that, he’s panicking.
nanami knows he’s watching. he lifts his head slowly, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his knuckle. the room is still loud, but somehow the air right around you feels cut clean, like a line has been drawn.
nanami looks at you first, making sure you’re okay. flustered as hell, but fine.
then he flips his head around, his eyes lock with satorus, and he gives the white haired a big, cocky smile.
.
“what the fuck was that?!”
gojo had marched through the crowd like a storm, grabbed your wrist in one hand and nanami’s shoulder in the other, and hauled you both upstairs toward the empty hostess room without a single care for who he shoved aside.
now he’s pacing, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to tear the frustration out from the root. his voice is rough from how he yells that opening line, but he’s already launching into more before either of you can answer.
“are you insane?” he seethes, pointing between the two of you. “both of you? in front of everyone? you’re unbelievable.”
nanami just stands beside you, so calm it genuinely rage baits the shit out of gojo.
you step back on instinct, not wanting to be yelled at for a second time, nanami, bless his soul, notices and places himself a half step in front of you without drawing attention to it. gojo clocks that and his rage builds and builds and builds.
“you never pull that shit,” gojo spits at nanami. “you never get involved, you never play. then suddenly you’re kissing my girlfriends neck in the middle of the kitchen? what is wrong with you?”
nanami exhales once, slow, controlled. “didn't know she was your girlfriend, you never told us. there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“bullshit.”
“you’re angry because you never thought someone else would take care of her when you weren’t.”
gojo stops walking and looks at nanami like he had three heads.
“excuse me?” satoru snaps.
nanami looks at him evenly. “you’ve been treating her like something you can ignore or pick up whenever you feel like it, pussy behaviour if you ask me.”
gojo steps forward. “don’t you dare pretend you know a damn thing about how i treat her.”
“i know enough,” nanami replies. “i know you hid the relationship. i know you left her waiting around while you partied with other people. i know you only notice her when someone else does.”
you feel gojo turn to you, like he’s trying to find confirmation or denial in your expression. you stare at the floor.
“you’re a shit friend,” gojo bites out, jabbing a finger at nanami. “we’ve known each other for years. years!. and you go and pull something like that? in front of everyone? you think that’s cute?”
nanami’s voice is steady as stone. “you’re a shit boyfriend.”
gojo laughs once oud and so calloused. “fuck you.”
“no,” nanami says. “you can’t treat women like placeholders and expect no one to notice. you can’t drag her around in secret and then act all butt hurt when someone actually shows her attention.”
“you don’t know what we have,” gojo fires back.
“don't i?” nanami asks. “because from where i’m standing, you haven’t acted like a man in a relationship once.”
“i think i respect her more than you do,” nanami returns.
gojo’s nostrils flare. “shut the fuck up.”
“you're so childish.”
that’s the first time nanamis tone drops and gojo reacts like he’s been clocked in the mouth. he spins toward you again, almost offended that nanami is still talking.
“you’re coming with me,” he says, reaching for your wrist. “we’re going home. now.”
you retreat, your body moving before your mind can catch up. you step right into nanami’s side, fingers catching the fabric of his shirt near his ribs. you grip it tight.
gojo stops mid reach.
his eyes flick down to where your hand grabs at nanami, then up to your face. the disbelief in his face is almost funny.
he scoffs, so disgusted.
“wow,” he breathes, shaking his head. “that’s how it is?”
you want to speak, but you just can't.
he looks between you and nanami again,
“fine,” he mutters. “you know what? whatever. it’s obvious who you’re picking.”
nanami moves his arm subtly, positioning his hand at the small of your back, not touching you yet, just there if you need it. gojo notices that too.
“don’t,” satoru spits, pointing. “don’t pretend you’re innocent in this.”
nanami raises a brow. “i never said i was innocent. i said you weren’t good for her.”
that’s what sends gojo over the edge.
“i’m better off without you,” he throws at you, voice sharp. “both of you. seriously. go ahead. stay with him. let him babysit your sorry ass, y/n.”
youre fighting the instinct to shrink away.
gojo barrels on, unable to stop himself, hurt twisting everything he says into the same bitter bite he spouted a week ago.
“you can go get screwed by him all day for all i care. i’m done. i don’t need this. i don’t need you acting scared of me while you hold onto him like some lost puppy.”
nanami takes a step, subtle but protective. gojo cuts him another look full of resentment.
“you two deserve each other,” he finishes, “she’s better off with someone boring and stiff like you anyway.”
nanami doest react.
satoru turns, grabs the door, yanks it open, and storms out. the sound of it slamming echoes down the hall.
…
your hand is still curled in nanami’s shirt, knuckles tight. now that gojo is gone, the adrenaline leaves you in a rushless collapse, your body leaning without meaning to. nanami steps in and catches your weight instantly.
his hand settles at your back, then another comes up to support your shoulder. he doesn’t talk, he waits for your breathing to even a little,
only then does he speak, his voice low but soft.
“you’re alright.”
you nod, or try to.
he adjusts his grip, resting your smaller body gently against his chest. his arms bracket you in a way that feels steady, he’s giving you space to gather yourself.
“you’re safe,” he murmurs near your temple. “i’ve got you.”
your fingers stay twisted in his shirt, and he covers your hand with his own, much larger one.
“you don’t have to talk yet,” he says. “just stay here as long as you need.”
you close your eyes, his hand running soothing, slow circles across your back.
“he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that,” nanami adds. “you didn’t deserve any of it.”
his arms tighten a fraction. “you’re not something to drag around. and you’re not something to yell at.”
you grip his shirt again, harder this time.
he keeps his voice level, calm enough to draw you back into yourself. “you’re with me now. i’ll make sure nothing touches you tonight. not him, not anyone.”
you melt against his body, gosh, could you fuse with this guy forever?
“let’s stay here a while,” he murmurs. “just you and me.”
"i'd really, really like that."
A/N: can the select few stop filling my inbox with hate now 🙏 i did it please be happy 💔
summary! your best friend satoru gojo has had a massive crush on you for years, the only issue is, he's pretty slutty. all he wants is you, god, you're the only thing he cares about these days, but he's too insecure to let himself want someone as beautiful and kind as you are.. he feels like he doesn't deserve such a loving person, so he sticks to his promiscuous lifestyle until you two can't handle pretending you're not enamoured with each other anymore. (insecure gojo, angst to comfort, gojo uses sex as an escape (no explicit mentions of said sex between others), toxicity, he's a sweetheart i promise)
satoru was off-his-fucking-face drunk.
he saw you from across the room chatting it up with shiu, a well known plug around campus, and a very attractive one at that, although he hated to admit it.
he knows he probably shouldn't of felt that stab of jelousy that just radiated through his gut, he's supposed to smile, then shrug all nonchalantly, cmon. don’t be weird. she talks to people. you talk to everyone. that’s how this shit works. he thinks.
but then he clocks the way shiu leans in closer, not to the point he's feeling all up on you, but he's close enough that it really, really pisses gojo off.
so, like any good 'best friend' who was almost blackout would do, he stalked over and threw his floppy, muscular arms around your waist with a deadly glare.
"can you fuck off shiu? no one wants you around here fucking up freshman with your fucking sketchy shit." he slurred, clinging to you like a koala.
"good cussing, satoru." shiu smiles with a new cigarette hanging from his lip.
"i hate you."
"i know, buddy..." he replies, winking at you before slipping the back of smiles into his pocket, "well uh, i'll leave you two alone then?" the obviously more mature man offers, you clench your teeth and pull one of satorus arms off of your body.
"sorry, kong. we'll chat another time?"
"no, you won't. go away shiu." satoru quipped, the black haired man just waves with a chuckle and moves on. he knew drunk gojo wasn't to be taken to heart, after all.
good riddance, he thought. everyone knew you were his, so why wasn't shiu getting that?
he sighed, but deep down he hated that part of himself. the obsessive part that wants to pull you away while knowing full well he's never once made any sort of claim on you. he doesn't get to play guard dog when he himself is the one who's taught everyone he's nothing more but a temporary play thing for others to use.
he knows it's pathetic, but still, he couldn't help but cling to you. it was just second nature to him at this point.
once shiu's gone, you exhale curtly. this always happened. despite your and satoru's relationship being nothing more than a tight friendship, he always got disgustingly possessive when you gave your attention to others, especially men, and especially at parties.
you sigh, then pry his other lanky arm off you with a big huff, fuck, he was heavy.
“you’re being ridiculous, satoru,” you groan, yelling over the music even though he's loud enough for the both of you, “i was only asking him how his studies were going.”
“don’t care,” satoru mumbles with his cheek pressed to your smaller shoulder. “don’t like him.”
“you don’t like anyone who talks to me.”
“mhm.”
you groan softly, this has happened so many times it’s become expected at these kinds of things. you reach for his collar and tug it, steering him away from the kitchen before he can latch back on to shiu who was now talking to maki.
“come on,” you roll your eyes. “you’re piss faced.”
he laughs boisterously, a stark change from the pout he was wearing a few seconds ago. “only a bit.”
“you’re literally swaying.”
“and? i sway when i'm sober.”
you can be bothered arguing with this meat head. instead, you turn toward the stairs and brace for impact because right on cue, his hand slides into yours and he pulls you up them.
“satoru,” you hiss, but he’s already halfway up, pulling you along behind him.
“i want to go to my room,” he says bluntly. “it's too fucking loud down there.”
he keeps a tight hold of your hand all the way up the spiral stairs with his thumb brushing your knuckles over and over, a nervous little tic he did when he got overwhelmed.
people smile and shout at the both of you as you walk pass, you think you can make out sukuna yelling his name, but he ignores all of them with a scoff like the dismissive drunk he is.
the moment you’re inside his room he shuts the door with his foot and leans back against it, still holding your hand.
this is always the part that makes your heart go all soft.
satoru looked so much gentler when he was inebriated like this. physically he’s still got that massive muscular upper body, still takes up all of your personal space and all, but he seems so fragile. like he’s set down the flashy go getter version of himself everyone else sees and picked up the one he only lets you have.
“sit,” he says dragging you toward his bed.
you smile at his slightly slurred speech and sit, he drops down beside you with his long lanky knees bumping yours. he immediately scoots closer until his leg presses against your own. his hand itch's until it's touching yours, your wrist, then your fingers, lacing them together.
he was always a little touchy when drunk.
“you okay?” you ask.
“yeah,” he says with a smile, then, “you’re really good.”
you laugh and lean back on your free hand. “that wasn’t the question, silly.”
he shrugs, flopping back onto the mattress and dragging you with him so you’re both propped up against his bashed up and faded wooden headboard. he loops his strong arm under your back and around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. okay, maybe a lot touchy.
you and satoru had a special kind of thing going on.
in freshman he spotted you from across the way at a mixer, he clocked you from the other side of the room and decided, for reasons he never really explained, that you were his person now.
he stole your cup, replaced it with a fresh one, and talked your ear off until you forgot what being nervous actually felt like, he seemed like a suave man on the outside, but this guy poured straight chronically online brainrot humour into your brain for like, two hours straight?.
by the end of the night you were sitting on the curb together, sharing fries he'd door dashed to the frat laughing like you’d known each other forever.
from then on, it was just a thing. you studied together, even though he never actually studied and mostly complained. you slept over, even though you both had comfy beds of your own.
you knew his school schedule, his little moods, the signs that meant he needed to leave a party early and unwind somewhere else. he knew when you were lying about being fine and when you needed him to just sit there and not try to fix anything.
people joked about you two all the time.
geto once asked why you didn’t just date already. satoru laughed far too loud and said that’d 'ruin absolutely everything'. you giggled too, telling yourself it was better like this, that you liked having him without the risk of romantic intimacy.
but like everything, the truth always came out.
one night where the both of you were almost blackout drunk, he took you upstairs after throwing his guts up into the toilet. you laughed at him and he flipped you off back, cleaning up then pulling you into his room like a rag doll.
he held you in the middle of the floor after you'd both toppled over, and he admitted everything to you through very crappy, slurred speech.
he told you how much he loved you, how badly he wanted you all to himself, how no one else could do it for him. you admitted the same, you told him how much you needed him in your life and how you felt more loved with him that anyone else.
you kissed, it was gross and quick but it happened. your feelings were out in the open.
for that night, at least.
morning came and the previous confession felt like small tiny fragments in both of your minds, you just couldn't remember any of it fully.
you went about your little friendship like nothing had changed. from what was left in your brains, you had a semi-clear thought on it all.
oh shit, maybe she/he likes me back?
sometimes, late at night, you’d lie next to him while he talked about nothing, sometimes you thought you caught drawls of that night in how he went quiet when you mentioned another guy, or when his hand squeezed yours that little bit tighter. but then he’d joke it away, or pull back, or remind you with a grin that you were his best friend.
so you stayed quiet, and so did he.
because being close to him like this felt better than not having him at all, loving him quietly was safer than risking losing him.
you didn’t know he was doing the exact same thing, from the other side of that line, telling himself over and over that you deserved better than him and that wanting you meant destroying his favourite thing in the world, your friendship.
now, your eyes drag over his pretty face as he stares up at the celling, letting out a long sigh that smelt like hard solo.
then he starts talking.
“god, this theme sucked actual nut sacks." he announces. “it was so bad, y/n. tell them to never do it again.”
you snort. “hm? weren't you the one hyping it up last week.”
“can you be quiet? i was lying. why are you lying to me?" he was making no sense.
“i feel like that's not... a proper answer?” you shake your head like you yourself were letting it go, he wasn't sober enough to be answering things correctly.
“rude.” he turns his head to look at you. “everyone looks stupid.”
“you’re wearing bright red board shorts and no shirt."
“yeah,” he says seriously. “so fucking stupid.”
you glance at the discarded lifeguard whistle on his desk, the red plastic stark against the silky oak. “you look fine, toru.”
“nah.” he shakes his head, hair flopping into his eyes. “everyone’s dressed like baywatch rejects. i hate it.”
“you hate fun.”
“i love fun.” he squeezes your waist as to prove his point. “this just isn’t fun fun.”
“yeah? what’s fun fun then?”
his face turns and he's suddenly looking happier. gosh, these drunken mood swings.. “like... a onesie party.”
you laugh and sit a bit closer. “of course.”
“like animals,” he adds, gaining conversational momentum. “or dinosaurs. geto would be a gorilla. choso would be like, a wolf or some shit.”
“yeah? what would you be?”
he breathes out an answer before you can even finish your sentence. “a bunny.”
“oh wow, no you would not.”
“i absolutely would. i'd buy ears and everything.” he whines with a forlorn expression, oh we're sad now? perfect.
you picture it and bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, but he notices.
“see,” he says, now smug (you seriously couldn't keep up). “way better than 'surfer sluts'.”
you look at his shorts, then back at him. “at least the name was semi-creative?”
“tch, only thing creative 'bout it.”
he rambles on, complaining about the trashy pitbull music, about how someone spilled a drink on his nice new grey decarbra's, about how the freshmen are hella annoying this year. his hands wonder as he talks, sometimes he's squeezing your fingers, sometimes drifting to your hip, sometimes tracing the line of your knee cap? he's doing it absentmindedly so you guess it was fine.
you two chat about how shitty the party was for a good half hour, circling back to old gossip and relationship dramas, laughing and spit balling for ages. you'd never tell him but you loved these moments, where he'd laugh and talk to you like you'd known him since he was born, rather than just a few years ago.
he always looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the universe, whether you'd be out on long drives in his fancy car, or over at your dorm making really crappy cupcakes, he'd always gaze at you so lovingly. the bond between two best friends, am i right? you pushed away the thought of his lips on yours.
he sobers up a tad so the conversation is semi coherent on his end.
eventually, he circles the topic back you like he always does.
“so, you talk to shiu a lot,” he says quickly, darting his eyes back and forth from your face to gage your reaction.
“you know i talk to everyone,” you reply.
“yeah, but like.. you talk to him a lot.”
you smile at his badly hidden jealousy, “he’s in my stats class, satoru. nothing more.”
“still.”
you roll your eyes. “i asked how his studies were going. that’s it.”
he hums but it sounds very unconvinced.
“you get so weird about this,” you add. “it’s not that serious, i promise.”
he shifts closer again and his forehead drops to your shoulder. “i just don’t like when guys look at you.”
“they’re going to look at me.”
“i know.” his voice drops. “i hate it.”
you bump his knee with yours. “that’s a you problem, toru.”
“rude,” he repeats, but there’s no real malice in it.
you blurt out quickly, regretting it as soon as it pours out, "you're the only guy i'm this into, satoru, don't worry." fuck why did i say that?!
gojo's heartbeat is now thumping. she means that... in a friend way, right? of course. of course she did. no biggie...
he bites his lip as his hand goes all shake dragging up and down your arms.
you sit in silence for a bit as he and you both process, listening to the muffled frank ocean seeping through the floor boards. his thumb keeps tracing your knuckles, slower than before like he’s losing steam, getting sleepy.
to satoru, his room feels so much safer because no one’s looking at him like they want to eat him alive. not in here, with you. there's no one staring, waiting for him to be alone so they can make a move. sure, he's into it, but sometimes he jsut wants this, with you.
this is the version of him that he loves, sitting. talking. hands brushing without it being a big deal.
he wonders, not for the first time, why this version never feels like it’s allowed to want things. to want things like you.
the silence is comforting, but you make the mistake of opening your mouth. you promise you were only trying to lighten the mood, and/or distract from your almost confession earlier.
“c'mon,” you say lightly, not really thinking, “you should be thriving tonight, not sulking up here in your room. i mean, this theme was basically made for you.”
he lifts his head. “uh? what’s that supposed to mean?”
you shrug. “you know, surfer sluts. pretty fitting, no?"
you don't realise, but he goes stiff at your throw away comment, his fingers pause their ministrations on yours, his grip loosening until your fingers slide apart. he sits up straighter, and his body naturally moves away. his blue gaze dropping to the floor.
he’s heard it all before. much worse than this. louder than this. laughed off in locker rooms and kitchens and group chats.
'he's a slut.'
'a manwhore.'
'gojo’s just being gojo.'
he knows deep down he's built it, with every hook up being another brick. it was easier than being the guy who wanted one girl and didn’t know how to ask without ruining everything.
but fuck, he doesn’t want you to see him like that. that’s the fucked part. he doesn’t mind anyone else thinking it. just not you.
“oh,” he says.
you tilt your head, smiling. “oh, what?”
“nothing.”
you watch as his face turns into a distant blunt pull, you can't tell if he's still going through his drunken emotional switch ups or what.
“hey,” you say. “hey, i was joking.”
“yeah,” he mutters. “i know.”
he doesn’t look at you. oh shit.
without him pressed against you, the room suddenly inflates ten fold, when did it get so cold? the space between your bodies is small but very prominent, like a missing piece to a puzzle you'd spent hours putting together.
“toru?” you try again.
he scratches at his neck, a nervous habit you’ve seen a hundred times but never really questioned. “it’s fine.”
it’s clearly not, but you don’t push. you’ve learned when to stop.
he swings his legs off the bed and leans forward, elbows on his knees. the chatter downstairs seeps up, laughter and shouting coming through the walls. he stares at nothing, his mouth moving like he’s chewing on words he doesn’t want to swallow.
“everyone thinks that,” he says eventually, “so you’re not wrong.”
you frown, then fling your own legs off of the couch and hug into his side. “hm? thinks what?”
“that i’m just… that.”
oh.. you wince to yourself and drag a hand up and down his arm for comfort, “hey.. i didn’t mean it like that.”
“i know.” he huffs a laugh lacking all the humour it usually had. “doesn’t really matter how you meant it.”
he looks down at you, “it’s true.”
you don't know how to answer, because you know it's true, too. you didn't mean to be rash, but he was a slut. this guy averaged two girls a week and bragged to almost everyone about it, why was he getting angsty now? his constant rotation was the main reason you hadn't brought up your feeling for him since that night. who sleeps with that many chicks if they really did like someone for real?
he keeps going, words pouring now that the dam’s cracked.
“i mean, look at me,” he says, gesturing at himself. “everyone here’s fucked me or wants to. it’s kind of my thing now, not that i totally mind, it's just.. not all i am.”
“i don't think that's all you are, okay? you're my bestfriend, satoru. i know you better than that.” you're trying so hard to save this sinking ship.
'bestfriend..' he echoed in his mind, a solemn smile playing at his mouth, he wanted to be so, so much more than that.
"yeah, i know you don't think that.” he shrugs, smiling softer. “you're the only opinion i really care about, anyways.”
you tap his wrist for his hand again and he lets you intertwine your fingers. his heart blips, you don't normally initiate this type of intimacy, it was always him grabbing for your hand.
"of course satoru, don't worry,” you say.
he wants to say something else but whatever it was stays lodged behind his smile, any sadness he had was long gone, he was now hyper fixated on your hand.
"i know you wanna tell me something else."
“yeah but.. forget it,” he says almost too happily.
you squeeze his hand. “c'monn, tell me.”
he shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes again. “it’s stupid.”
“you’re stupid,” you say gently.
stupidly in love with you..
~
satoru stretches and lets out a deep, throaty groan. he somehow didn't have a hangover this morning, that was surprising.
he yawns and rolls over to bury his face into the pillow, his head feels packed with cotton and gravel, but it's not necessarily throbbing.
he's halfway through another groanish yawn when he realises the blankets that are pulled over his chest, when did they get there?
he stares at the ceiling, frowning. his comforter is pulled up to his chest with the corners tucked around his shoulders in a fashion he never ever does himself because he’s lazy and tall and always hangs off the bed. someone even kicked his shoes into place on his shoe rack.
you, of course it was you.
your face floats right to the front of his mind clear as day. your pretty little laugh, your hand in his, the precious way you were looking at him when he knocked out, you looked so beautiful.
he had morning wood and the thought of you was only making it pulsate harder. you were so kind to him, you'd always been there as an anchor, no matter what. he'd crash at your place when he felt like it, he'd squeeze into bed with you and hold you against his body.
shit, your body.. he presses his boner into the bed and groans, draging a heavy hand down his face.
“fuck.”
he's loved you for years, every girl he's ever fucked was a distraction. a distraction from the fact he never felt good enough to have you, all of you, all to himself. he hated it.
he catalogs the evidence like it’s a horrible case against him and his promiscuous ways. the kind words you'd always spewed, the way you can leave him without it feeling like you're really gone..
he racks his brain for every girl who’s woken up here and slipped out before he got to learn their last names. how none of them ever did this. how none of them stayed this gentle with him.
he tells himself thats gotta mean something.
then, he reminds himself that wanting something doesn’t mean he deserves it..
as he's having a deep, 'i love my bestfriend but i'm too much of a whore to deserve her, what the fuck do i do?' crisis for the fiftieth time this month, the door slams open.
“rise and shine, whore,” sukuna bellows, stepping into the room blowing a fat cloud of sweet vapor straight into the air. “get the fuck up. house looks like a dump.”
satoru squints at him. “i hate you.”
“yeah, yeah.” sukuna hits the vape again. “come clean. you threw up in the downstairs sink.”
“that wasn’t me.”
“it was absolutely you.”
satoru rolls onto his side and curls in on himself dramatically. “fuck off.”
sukuna snorts. “get up and mop you insufferable asshole.”
he waits until the door slams shut again before forcing himself to sit up. he scratches at his neck, then glances down at himself, he's still shirtless and in these ridiculous shorts. he grabs his geek bar off the side table and takes a hit, then throws it aside and sniffs.
he grabs a pair of grey sweats off the floor along with boxers from his draw, he strips, poses nakedly in the mirror for a good ten seconds, and pulls them on, not bothering with a shirt. he comes down the stairs barefoot, every step reminding him of how much of a lightweight he is. he makes it to the bottom and, holy fuck, the house was a mess.
empty cups are everywhere, bottles spilt into the carpet, peoples sweaty clothes strewn all over the place, what a palace.
choso is sweeping loads of trash into a big rubbish bag on the floor, nanami is wiping down the counters with a pissed off look, sukuna and toji are flipping the couch back over.
geto spots him before everyone else, "there he is,” he smiles, clapping a hand on satoru’s shoulder. “you okay?”
“no.”
geto grins. “heard you were real fucked up last night.”
satoru sighs. “don’t.”
he grabs a rubbish bag and starts scooping cups off the floor, his mind keep floating back to you, over and over again. he can still feel your hand in his, he can still see the way you'd hugged into his side when he got all quiet.
that’s the last thing he remembers before everything goes black is you.
he clears his throat. “hey.”
no one looks up.
“hey,” he tries again, louder. “did anyone see y/n leave last night?”
ino looks up like hes been waiting for a question like that, “why,” he asks. “you forget where you put her?”
satoru shoots him a look. “shut up.”
“i think she left kinda early,” nanami says without looking up. “before two.”
satoru’s chest loosens just a bit. “yeah?”
“yeah,” nanami continues. “she walked out with-"
toji stood up from kneeling besides the couch,
“shiu,” he says casually, cracking open a beer he had in hand. “she went home with shiu.”
the room goes quiet for exactly a second.
satoru stops and the trash bag slips from his fingers.
“what,” he says.
toji shrugs. “saw them out front walking to his car. sure looked cozy.”
he feels his heart beat thump, his head starts to throb and his eyes feel like they want to water and spill.
“that’s not-" he laughs weakly. “that’s not funny.”
toji takes a sip. “wasn’t joking.”
geto raises an eyebrow, watching satoru a little too closely. “you sure, man?”
toji nods. “yep.”
it feels like someone socked him in his mouth, his ears ring, the house feels claustrophobic, suddenly everything's very wrong.
you wouldn’t.
would you?..
he thinks about the way you held his hand, the way you tucked him in, all 6"4 of him, the way you told him he was 'the only guys you were this into.'. maybe that never happened ? maybe it indeed was just a figure of his imagination.. fuck, maybe his whorish lifestyle had finally scared you off..
he breathes in deep. if you did sleep with him, satoru doesn’t get to be hurt. he’s the guy who taught you this was normal, that this was so right and casual.
if you chose someone else, all that means is you learned the rules from watching him doing it over and over and over again.
his chest tightens and he laughs again. “ha. wow. okay.”
ino bursts out laughing. “are you deadass?”
sukuna snorts. “c'mon bro, you hook up with mad girls. don't be pressed when she does the same.”
geto covers his mouth, he wants to laugh but he knows he shouldn't. “that’s rough, but sukuna's right, satoru.”
gojo wipes a hand down his face quickly, blaming the hangover. “yeah. hilarious.”
“guess surfer sluts really was her thing,” toji adds, smirking.
that one lands.
satoru bends down and picks up the rubbish bag again with his eyes fixed to the floor, “i’m gonna go take the trash out.”
"okay, bro."
~
now, in your defence, while you did go home with shiu, you didn't sleep with him.
you couldn't, not when you were this deep under the satoru spell.
"thanks for letting me crash here, i didn't want to disturb gojo's sleep. oh, and yuki brought higuruma over last night. didn't wanna be up until 4 listening to them fuck."
you're half dressed under the covers, wiping your eyes as he come in with a cup of coffee.
"i got you, don't worry." he smiles from the door of his room, he let you take his luxurious bed while he slept on the equally as nice couch. shiu was surprisingly rich for a collage kid, maybe all that 'sketchy shit' as satoru liked to put it, was really selling.
he brings the cup down onto the table besides your bed and flicks your nose, "just remember your promise, gotta do that last section of the assignment for me, payment for my generosity."
"mm, wouldn't dream of leaving you without proper compensation." you laugh, taking the cup and sipping gently.
he looks from one of your eyes to the other like he's appreciating your presence, then quickly looks away and spins around.
"gotta make a few runs this morning, leave whenever you feel like it, yeah?" he throws over his shoulder.
you give him a thumbs up and he nods, waving while walking out.
the morning scuffles along, you eventually pull yourself out of his beautiful bed and get dressed into whatever clothing you could find that'd fit you in his draws. there were a few women's camis aswell as sweat pants in here, oh no, did he have a girlfriend?
as if being summoned by the universe, who else but shoko walks into the house, with her own key, no less.
she locks eyes with you for a second then smiles and waves like she couldn't care less.
"sh-shoko? what the fuck?"
"hey, y/n. is shiu still here?" she was so calm you just had to pry.
"why? are you two a thing? god, i promise this isn't what it looks like, i was just at a party and he offered to-"
"hush, i don't give a shit if you fucked him, girl. he's not my man."
phew... wait- not phew! you guys didn't even do anything!
you explain to her what went down, and she, in turn, told you why she was there. turns out she and shiu were hooking up on the dl, but she only felt for him physically, so you weren't a bother to her. "yeah, we fuck and he gives me drugs, pretty sweet deal. would recommend."
"yeah, i'm so good, thanks."
after that semi-akward interaction you gathered your stuff and got the hell out of there.
shiu's place was just off campus so the walk back to your own apartment wasn't far. like you did every morning after a party, you tried to give satoru a call. only, after the third ring, the line went dead.
satoru was finishing up the last little chores around the frat when he got your call, he stared at his phone as it rung on the kitchen bench, your name in cute heart emojis flashing on the screen.
he declined.
the last thing he wanted right now was to talk to you after shiu had been apparently digging in you. no way.
"yeesh, that's harsh, man." choso commented from his spot sitting at the breakfast bar.
"it's nothing, just busy right now." satoru tries his best to sound nonchalant but it's obvious he's still very much annoyed.
"oh yeah? you stop training when she calls you, man. you're never 'too busy.'" choso makes air quotes around that last part.
satoru sighs and chucks the last of the solo cups in the recycling bin, then takes off back up the stairs.
he shuts his door far harder than he needs to and falls onto his bed.
shiu.
the name keeps coming back, no matter how hard he tries to shove it away.
he tells himself he has no right to feel like this, none. he fucks around constantly, hell, it’s practically his brand. he’s built this whole thing around being easy, wanted and available. so why does the idea of you choosing someone else make his chest feel so disgusting?
you’re your own person. you always have been. he’s never tried to cage you, never tried to tell you what to do or who to see. that’s not him and he prides himself on that.
still.
you’re supposed to be his person.
not like that, he tells himself. not in a gross way he gets to possess but in the way you always end up together. the way you fall asleep next to him without it meaning anything and somehow meaning everything at the same time.
he massages the bridge of his nose with both hands.
get over it.
get over it.
get over it.
god, he just can't. instead, he unlocks his phone and stares at your pretty contact photo, the stupid nickname. his thumb taps call before he can talk himself out of it.
it barely rings twice before you're answering all giddy.
“toru!” your voice is so bright. “oh my god, i was just about to try you again. are you hung over?”
he feels pain coil up in his tummy.
“no,” he says flatly.
on your end, you're taken back by his bluntness “oh! uh, okay.”
he winces internally at your dejected response but doesn’t soften the blow. if he does, he’ll crack, and he can’t afford that right now.
“what’s up?” you ask, still trying.
“nothing,” he replies. “just busy.”
your heart clips like it'd been hooked onto a fishing hook.
“…hey, uh, are you.. are you mad at me?”
he scoffs sharply. “why would i be mad at you.”
your voice dips. “i don’t know. you’re being kinda blunt, i guess.”
he laughs curtly. “i’m allowed to be blunt.”
“not like this,” you say quietly. “you’re never like this with me.”
that hits him in his throat. he pretends to ignore it when in reality it throws his heart for a loop, "what do you want,” he asks, it's so clipped.
you go silent for a second, clearly recalibrating. “i was wondering if you wanted to hang out later? maybe get food or something. i can come over.”
normally he’d say yes without thinking. normally he’d already be planning how fast he could ditch whatever else he had lined up.
today, though, his jealousy makes the decision for him.
“can’t,” he says. “i’ve got a girl coming over.”
the line goes very quiet.
“…oh,” you say.
gosh, he can picture your face. the sweet little drop in your eyes you try to hide. the way you probably nodded even though he can’t see you.
there’s a mean, awful part of him that hopes it stings. not because he wants to hurt you, but because he wants proof that he matters the way you matter to him.
the rest of him despises that part. hates that when things feel out of control he reaches for the only thing that’s ever numbed really it.
he doesn’t want the girl coming over. he wants you. he always does. but wanting you feels so dangerously hard in a way fucking his feelings out never does.
“right,” you add. “that's okay.”
he should stop. he should backtrack and admit to what he really wants, he wants to talk to you about shiu, why you did it when you know he hated him, why you'd sleep with that fucker of all people, get some sort of closure. instead, he keeps going, so cruel and careless.
“yeah,” he says. “don’t really feel like cancelling either. kinda want good company.”
that’s a lie. he feels like shit. but he wants it to sting, shit, he hates that he wants that.
you swallow audibly. “okay. well. have fun then.”
“always do,” he replies, too fast.
the silence is horribly awkward.
“…i know you said you're fine, but really, toru, are you good?” you ask, one last attempt.
he exhales through his nose. “yeah. don’t bother coming over tonight, okay?”
there it is. the line he knows will hit you deep.
your voice wobbles a little, “i wasn’t.”
“good,” he says. “talk later.”
and before you can respond, he hangs up.
the second the call ends, regret slams into him full force.
“fuck,” he grumbles, slamming the phone onto the bed.
he presses his palms into his eyes and groans. what the hell was that? why did he do that?
you didn’t deserve that. he’s supposed to be your best friend, not... not whatever that was.
he tells himself he’s doing you some sort of fucked up a favor. that pushing you away now is kinder than letting you see how messy he actually is when he cares.
it sounds noble until he admits the truth. he ran because staying would’ve meant being honest with you.
he sits there for ages, replaying your tone over and over until it makes him feel nauseous.
he hates this. hates how jealous he feels. hates that he can’t say anything about it without blowing everything up. hates that he took it out on you because he doesn’t know how to handle it like a normal person.
his phone vibrates, instead of checking the notification he unlocks it, opens a different app, scrolls, and sends a message he knows he’ll definitely regret later.
gojo: come over
her reply is quicker than he'd thought it be.
xxx xxx xxx: omw ;)
he drops the phone and leans back, staring at the ceiling. this is what he does. when things get too much, he drowns them out. replaces one feeling with another until it’s all numb enough to ignore.
a knock sounds at his door twenty minutes later.
he doesn’t give himself time to think it over, he opens it, steps aside, and lets the girl in. she smiles at him, then she reaches for his arm like it's her god given right.
the door clicks shut behind them.
and even as he kisses her, his mind betrays him, flashing back to your voice on the phone, so sweet, so soft and hurt.
he squeezes his eyes shut and pushes it away.
anything to not feel like this.
~
now, the party a few days later is so much worse.
the theme is white out so the crowd looks like a sea of seagulls packed into this seats living room.
you're clad in a pretty little white dress with big white heels and matching accessories, pretty basic yet still jaw dropping.
you're walking past the tv when satoru comes into view, today, not only was his hair white, but his entire outfit was too.
he’s across the room near the kitchen island, leaning back against the counter with a drink in his hand and two girls pressed in real close. one of them is laughing like a hyena at something charming he said, her fingers hooked into the waistband of his jeans like she’s testing how far she can go. the other is touching his arm, tracing up his strong bicep.
he's too busy with them, he doesn't even spare you a fleeting glance.
you try not to look, you really, really do. but it’s just so difficult when that used to be your spot. when that used to be you next to him, stealing sips of his drink, talking shit about everyone else at the party like you were above it all together.
you frown, the conversations you and satoru had lately have been few and far between. he's dry as hell, and suddenly busy every time you ask to hang out.
you keep telling yourself it’s fine, it's all good. people grow apart all the time, it's collage! maybe he’s bored of being your friend. maybe you leaned too hard on a friendship that wasn’t meant to last.. and while you tell yourself it's fine, your chest twists and ticks and throbs with pain.
you step toward a couch where choso, shoko and geto are lounging around, all three of them clock your mood the second you flop beside them.
“hey, you good?” geto asks, passing you a drink.
you shake your head. “i’m okay.”
choso gives you a look. he's not gonna push but he'd like to. “you wanna sit here with us?”
“yeah,” you say quietly. “that’d be nice.”
you sit between them with your legs tucked up, watching the party happen around you like it’s something you’re not really part of anymore. your eyes keep flocking back to satoru like some sort of pathetic magnet.
you loved satoru's company. he was your favourite person on earth, you'd spend every second with him if you could, now he was pushing you away? you'd of at least liked a conversation about it. maybe a warning.
hes getting loud talking like he's the only person worth listening to in the entire room, patting girls on the ass and leaning in close to their necks to hear them properly.
every time he laughs or slings his arm around their shoulders, you feel your heart crack.
you miss him. god, you miss him so bad. not whatever this was.
choso nudges your knee gently. “c'mon, you don’t have to stay if it’s not fun.”
you shake your head again. “i don’t wanna be alone.”
he nods like he understands that more than you realise.
time drags on and an hour passes. then another. you try talking to other people, but it feels so wrong. your attention keeps snapping back to satoru.
he’s still backed against the kitchen island with a drink he hasn’t touched like, forty minutes, he's pretending bf to laugh at those girls terrible jokes, letting them sleaze all over him.
normally he’d lean into the gag. he'd flirt back and say something stupidly charming and let the night dissolve into a forgettable hook up.
but tonight it just feels so weird.
the girl on his left moves in with her mouth near his ear, saying something he pretends not to clock. her breath fans over his skin and his stomach churns, not with excitement but with this dull guilt that keeps scratching his lungs raw.
he looks at their faces and feels a light sense of absence.
he thinks about how easy it would be to disappear upstairs with one of them. how everyone would nod like yeah, that tracks. just gojo being gojo, and the thought makes him want to rip out of his own skin.
he didn’t want this shit tonight. he didn’t want these grabby hands all over him. he’s so tired of being wanted in the most bare minimum way.
he wanted you here.
eventually, after you'd stared holes through the back of satorus head, choso leans down to your ear. “you wanna go upstairs for a bit? i’m gonna smoke.”
you stumble over your words. “oh, i uh, i don’t smoke.”
“i know,” he says quickly. “you don’t have to. just… sit with me. i don’t really wanna be alone either.”
good, you really needed an escape right now.
“okay,” you say. “yeah. i’ll go with you.”
you stand together, weaving through the crowd toward the stairs. you can tell people are staring but you don’t look over your shoulder.
choso leads the way up, your shoulders brushing as he pulls out a pre roll with a smile.
across the room, satoru is midway through a sentence when he spots you. he wants to smile, its his reflex when he catches sight of you, but then he remembers he doesn’t get to do that right now, and the happy pull of his lips dies before it ever reaches his face.
you’re walking up the stairs with choso, close enough that your arms are touching. you’re leaning in to hear what he’s saying, head close to his mouth in a way satoru hasn’t had in days.
his put on smirk falls immediately.
“hey,” one of the girls says, pulling on his arm. “you listening?”
he pulls his wrist free without looking at her. “yeah. go get a drink or something.”
she frowns. “what?”
“look, just go,” he snaps.
both girls scatter away, muttering throw away curses but he really doesn’t care. he’s stalking over to where geto and shoko are now sitting with bottles to their lips.
“great,” he says bitterly, sitting down hard onto the couch. “first she’s fucking shiu and now my best friend? perfect.”
geto thinks for a second. “...what?”
shoko squints at him. “what are you talking about?"
satoru laughs bitterly, “don’t play dumb. i just saw them.”
geto follows his eyes to the stairs and sees you and choso disappearing around the corner. he sighs. “they’re going up to smoke.”
satoru scoffs. “yeah. sure, she doesn't smoke.”
“no,” shoko cuts in, annoyed. “actually sure. choso asked if she’d sit with him.”
satoru’s face drops into a deeper scowl, “since when does she hang out with him like that."
“since always?” geto replies. “they’re friends you just hog her, normally.”
satoru shakes his head. “this is bullshit.”
shoko sets her drink down with a dissatisfied groan. “you don’t get to act like this.”
he snaps his head toward her. “like what.”
“like you own her,” she says flatly. “you don’t.”
geto nods. “man, you’ve been pushing her away all week.”
“because she doesn’t want me,” satoru fires back. “she made that pretty clear.”
shoko raises an eyebrow. “did she now.”
“she went home with shiu.”
shoko’s face twists. “oh my god.”
geto leans forward. “that’s what this is about? you're ditching your best friend because she wanted to get her pussy ate?”
“what- no-,” satoru says. “you make it sound like-" he stop himself from spewing words he doesn't really mean. "it's just the fact she knows i hate that guy. that and everything else..."
shoko exhales sharply. “she didn’t fuck him.”
satoru freezes. “what.”
“she didn’t sleep with him,” shoko repeats. “she stayed the night because she didn’t wanna wake you up at the last function.”
the wave of relief that flows through him is euphoric, but it's followed closely by guilt. because despite everything you still chose him in the quiet ways. and he’d repaid that by pushing you as far away as possible.
geto turns to shoko. “oh, are you serious?"
“dead serious,” she says. “i walked in that morning. she was fully dressed and half asleep. they didn’t do shit.”
satoru feels like the floor drops out from under him and his heart is smudged into the wood.
“she told me herself,” shoko adds. “she was worried about you that morning, too. wanted to go over straight away and see if you were hung over.”
he's taken back by the revelation, satoru feels like he can't breathe.
geto runs a hand through his hair. “man…”
“also,” shoko continues, clearly not done, “she’s been really upset. you know that, right?”
satoru stares at the stairs. your face flashes in his mind. the way your voice sounded on the phone. so hurt.
“i'm gonna be honest, you’ve been acting like an asshole,” geto says gently. “and she’s been taking it like a champ. i'd of socked you in the jaw by now."
the music seems to disappear into the depths of his mind as he reels.
you didn’t fuck shiu.
you weren't up there sleeping with choso.
god, he thinks about the way he spoke to you. the way he brushed you off so calloused, the way he said he had a girl coming over and didn't brush her off for you, like he'd always done.
his stomach drops.
“oh fuck,” he whispers.
shoko watches him closely. “you're a real asshole, you know.”
he swallows. “fuck, i know.”
geto snorts.
satoru rubs a hand down his face, standing abruptly. “i need air.”
he takes off, on his way past he stops at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at them.
for the first time in days, he doesn’t feel angry.
he feels scared, typical gojo reading too deep into things and reacting rashly. he really needed to work on that.
~
"i don't know cho... this is the first time something like this has happened. i feel like he hates me or something... i just don't know what i did."
choso, bless his heart, had been listening to you pour your heart out about gojo for the past half an hour, blowing smoke out his open window. that last part caused his zooted brain to form a coherent thought.
"it's probably because you fucked shiu." he announces in uneven tones, he was more than a little gone.
you stare at choso like he’s just spoken another language.
“uhm?” you quiz.
his head falls to look at you from his spot by the window, he’s so relaxed he looks like gravity might forget about him any second now.
“yeah,” he nods, very sure of himself. “that’s gotta be it. gojo’s dramatic like that.”
your stomach drops, not in guilt, but in pure disbelief.
“i didn’t fuck shiu,” you say with a bitter taste in your mouth.
choso's neck rolls and he rubs his face, “…huh?”
“i didn’t sleep with him,” you repeat, “nothing happened. i crashed at his because i didn’t wanna wake satoru up and yuki had a guy over our place."
he processes this slowly with his face scrunching, the thought is buffering.
“okay,” he says after awhile, “but you went home with him.”
“yes,” you snap. “but that’s not the same thing.”
he hums, then shrugs. “dunno, sounds the same.”
you were gonna punch this loser.
“oh my god,” you mutter. “i have to go.”
“go where?” choso asks genuinely curious.
“i have to tell satoru,” you say grabbing your phone. “not because i did anything wrong, because i didn’t. but because he thinks i slept with someone he hates.”
choso sighs again. “you know you’re allowed to sleep with people.”
“i know that,” you say quickly. “this isn’t about that. it’s about him thinking i did it behind his back with someone he clearly can’t stand.”
choso nods like this makes sense to him, even though it absolutely does not. “okay.”
you pause at the door. “can you not tell anyone else?”
he raises two fingers in a salute. “your secret is safe with me.”
you don’t trust that for a second, but you’re already shutting his door.
you bolt down the stairs two at a time looking over the crowd. the stupid partys still bumping. you look for his pretty white hair, for his broad shoulders, but with everyone wearing the same color it became impossible.
you groan and head for the couch you left shoko and geto at.
“where’s satoru,” you breathe.
“uh. outside, i think.” geto responds surprised.
“yeah,” shoko adds. “went out front. needed air, apparently.”
you nod and make your way to the front door, the coolness of the night sweeps over your face and you notice a very tall man almost instantly.
he’s leaning against the lamp post across the street with his phone in one hand and his vape in the other.
he only vapes when he’s stressed.
stepping closer, you clock just how small this moment feels and how big it could blow up and become if you say the wrong thing.
“toru,” you say softly.
he looks up.
the second his eyes land on you, he feels his heart pulse.
“can we.. can we talk?” you ask.
he doesn’t answer, he gives you the most longing stare you'd ever seen. then, he steps forward and pulls you into his arms.
hard.
his biceps wrap around you so tight, his scrunched up face presses into your hair, his grip is stable and you want to cry at how passionate this feels.
he breathes out a shaky, “i’m sorry.”
you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him back.
“i’m so sorry,” he repeats. “i was a dick. i shouldn’t have been so rude. i should’ve talked to you, communication and all that shit.”
you move back to look up at him. “hey. hey, it’s okay.”
he shakes his head. “no, it’s not. i acted like a stuck up cunt. i thought you slept with shiu and i just… i lost my mind.”
you sigh. “i didn’t. i swear. nothing happened. i should of told you that.”
he nods quickly. “i know. shoko told me. i just… god. i’m sorry i made you feel so shit.”
you reach up and rub your thumb under his eye. a sweet gesture you’ve done a hundred times before. “i’m sorry you got that impression.”
he leans into your touch for half a second before catching himself. “i had no right to be mad even if you had slept with someone. i know that.”
you nod. “yeah. you didn’t. but i get it's because you thought i did it behind you back, especially with someone you really hate."
a beautiful, silent moment exists between you two before you step back, forcing a small smile. “are we all good?”
he lets out a weak laugh. “yeah, you're so good.”
“that wasn't the question, silly.” you add, gently.
after that, you'd both agreed to ditch this lame party and stay at yours for the night. yuki was at higuruma's, so the place was all yours.
at your apartment, you both shower separately then change into comfy sleep clothes. his essentials hoodie ends up on you without either of you talking about it. when you come back into your room, he’s flopped onto your bed with his big arms spread, staring at the ceiling.
“c’mere,” he says, patting the space beside him.
you smile and crawl in next to him, turning onto your side so your head rests against his chest. he adjusts automatically, one arm coming around you, fingers threading through your hair in slow, relaxing strokes.
it feels like safe, blissful warmth. like coming home.
you lie there in silence for a while, listening to his breathing even out.
then he speaks again.
“hey, uhm.. sorry for blowing you off for a chick, the other day, by the way.”
you lift your head. “huh?”
he grimaces. “i lowkey didn’t even have plans. i invited her over after i hung up. just wanted a distraction.”
your chest does a confusing little blip.
“would’ve liked to see you instead,” he adds quietly.
your heart aches and swells at the same time. you press your face back into his chest, “it’s fine.” laughs at your adorably muffled voice, then sighs. “i shouldn’t have done that.”
you shrug. “you’re allowed to see people.”
he hums. “yeah.”
you hesitate, then say it anyway. “i don’t care about the girls you hook up with. doesn't really effect our friendship, right?”
the words feel so distasteful and strange, but you push through.
he smiles a forlorn smile. "right.”
he pulls you a little closer, brushing his lips against your temple in an almost kiss. he threads a piece of your hair through his fingers like a coiled ribbon, feeling the individual stand's texture against the pads of his fingers. this was his therapy, the soothing lull of you, with him.
he can feel your soft breathing slow down as you knock out, the way you always do when you know you can trust him to stay with you.
and god, that trust truly destroys the last bit of careless arrogance he carried in him.
because just hours ago he was so sure you’d replaced him. that you’d looked at someone else and chosen them.
but you no, didn’t.
you never did that.
every girl he’s ever dragged into his bed flashes through his mind in quick, ugly snapshots like those old black and white movies.
they've got faces he can't remember, voices that sounds distorted and wrong, and their bodies look like every other persons. it's surreal.
he tells himself, not for the first time, that he never meant for it to get this bad. it all started as some quick fun. then it became a boarder line addiction, one he desperately wanted to break.. he feels sick at how it turned into something people expected from him, something he leaned into because it meant no one would ever ask him for more.
no one except you.
you wriggle around adorably in your sleep, your knee hitting his thigh, and it smacks him all over again how easy it would be to lose this bliss. how close he came. how close he kinda still is.
he’s been hiding behind it for so long. the flirting. the girls. the persona. acting like he doesn’t care.
but lying here with you? knowing you didn’t do anything wrong, knowing he almost burned the best thing in his life because he couldn’t get over his own shit, something in him finally snaps into place.
he doesn’t want to be that guy anymore.
he wants to be someone you can choose without any hesitation. someone who doesn’t make you doubt where you stand. someone who doesn’t reach for distractions the second things feel too hard for him to handle alone.
i’m gonna fix this, he thinks.
he’s not stupid enough to think it’ll be easy. habits don’t disappear overnight. insecurity doesn’t vanish just because he wants it to. but he can stop hiding behind other people. he can stop pretending he’s fine with the left over crumbs when what he wants is everything.
he wants to earn you.
not with big gestures or revolting drunk confessions he can’t really back up, but by showing up differently to what hes been doing. by choosing you the way you’ve always chosen him.
he was gonna stop. he couldn't be labeled a good for nothing playboy anymore,
~
"so bro, did you figure shit out with your girl?"
"what, you mean y/n? yeah, man. that's all sorted."
gojo was back at the frat the next day after a very messy, long night of staring at your sleeping face, (and fighting to overwhelming urge to kiss your pretty nose.) he was chatting it up with toji who had heard about the drama through shoko.
"just curious, are you two like.. a friend with bennies kinda situation? or what." he asks, shaking his banana protein powder violently in it's can to break apart the clumps.
satoru starts drumming his fingers against the kitchen bench, trying to sound nonchalant. "nah, man. she's just my friend. i've got other girls for that shit." he winces at that douchey response... hm, if he wanted to stop the slut allegations he needed to work on how he talked to guys like toji.
"yeah, and she's just fine with that?"
"i dunno, bro."
toji shakes his head and chuckles, then geto interrupts from the couch.
"ever think of like, oh, i don't know. telling her you're into her?"
gojo lets out a fake groan like he's sick of the question, not like he's obsessed over that very idea for around a year now. "can you two lay off? i'll tell her eventually."
"yeah right. you're gonna waste away your life fucking hoe's you don't even like, and she's gonna get a guy hitched. like shiu." sukuna chimes in from the stairs. fuck, was everyone coming down to clock his shit?
"fuck off with the shiu shit, they didn't do anything."
"yet."
he was seriously about to throw hands.
the chaos is interrupted when nanami walks through the large front door holding a piece of paper.
"i just got the theme for the next function." he says, holding it in the air. "it's that stupid white lies thing we did last year in june, remember that?"
oh, they remembered. everyone in white or coloured shirts with sharpie on the front spelling out a little white lie about each person. so much drama came from that, it was insane.
satoru faintly remembers sukuna's shirt saying, 'i'm not cheating on my girl.' and getting his wallet set on fire not long after said girl got to the party.
"sweet, that's easy to set up." toji commented. all satoru was thinking was how you were the first person he had to invite, his hand itching for his phone.
he smiles at your response and pockets his phone, his mind reeling with what he was gonna write on his shirt, as he taps a finger to his chin, the most big brain, amazing thought pops into his head.
god, i'm so suave.
his promise to himself was about to become really real after this party, he just hoped it didn't all go downhill..
you on the other hand, you were contemplating whether or not what you had planned for your shirt was too much. the instant you'd read his text about the theme, the idea immediately popped into your head.
being brave enough to actually go through with it? that was another story..
~
11pm saturday, the frat.
okay, you're really nervous now. you stand outside for way longer than necessary, your jumper covers the secret writing on your shirt, you can't embarrass yourself, yet.
you take a deep breath and walk into the familiar house you'd crashed at so many times.
it's still early, so only the people actually in the frat are there so far. you walk through slowly and the first one you clock is sukuna.
he’s got a beer in one hand (already? smh.), his white shirt is stretched across his muscly chest with thick black letters that read, i hate milfs.
you snort before you can stop yourself.
toji’s near the tv wiring up the music, his shirt says, i’m not a felon.
these guys weren't real, what the fuck.
shoko’s leaned against the counter nearby, one of those big chunky choofs in her hand. her shirt reads, i’m not addicted to nic.
you love her.
you pull out your phone and shoot satoru a text letting him know you've made it, you barely have time to lock your screen before arms wrap around you from behind.
big, hard, comforting arms.
gojo buries his face into the side of your neck, "there you are,” he says, pleased. “you smell good.”
the blush that covers your cheeks is embarrassing. “well, hi to you too.”
he pulls off and beams down at you, although, you can't help but see a slight hint of nerves in his eyes.
“missed you,” he laughs.
before you can overthink that, you notice that his shirt is covered by a loose flannel, hanging open but covering the writing on his chest.
he notices your eyes flick down and smirks. “don’t look yet.”
you scoff. “oh, so you’re hiding yours too.”
“maybe,” he says. “what about you?”
you tug at the strings of your jumper. “mhm.”
his eyes narrow playfully. “suspicious.”
"you love it."
he grins. “yeah. i do.”
he’s tugging you along by the hand, weaving you through the house toward the kitchen the next second.
“come onn,” he says. “it’s still early. let's pregame before it gets all sweaty and gross.”
the kitchen is devoid of people, satoru hops up onto the counter, then contemplates ad corrects himself.
“wait,” he says. “no. you sit.”
before you can argue, he lifts you and plops you on the bench, your face feels hot but you blame it on the lack of air flow.. or the way he’s standing way too close.
he pours you a drink keeping in mind you’re not trying to get wrecked tonight, then puts it beside you.
“there ya go, sweets,” he says.
“perfect.”
you sip, then notice his fingers tapping against the counter like a drum, oh yeah, he's definitely nervous.
you tilt your head, flashing him that gorgeous smile that always made him weak in the knees. "so.”
he looks at you. “so.”
you smile. “what’s your shirt say?”
...
his laugh is strangled and just a little too loud. “oh, uh. straight to the point, huh.”
“you know it."
he rubs the back of his neck. “it’s stupid.”
“uh huh.”
“and you’re gonna laugh.”
“probably.”
he squints at you. “you go first.”
you shake your head. “nope.”
“c’mon,” he whines. “you’re way braver than me.”
you giggle, heart doing that annoying thing again. “mm, absolutely not.”
he rolls his eyes, then comes up with a compromise.
“okay,” he says. “same time, then.”
you pause. “uhm?.”
“we'll both reveal it at the same time,” he continues. “y'know, like one, two, three.”
you stare at him. “c'mon.”
“you're so lame, pleasee,” he plead.
you roll your eyes. “okay, okay, fine.”
he grins, wide and oh so nervous. “really?”
“yeah,” you say, with your fingers are already curling into the fabric of your jumper. “on three.”
he nods. “okay.”
the moment stretches. neither of you moves.
“you count,” he says.
you swallow and nervously laugh. “one.”
his fingers fall into the edge of his flannel.
“two.”
your hands slide to the hem of your jumper.
“three.”
both of your fabrics lift.
his flannel drops open as you tug your jumper over your head, both of you frozen for a good minute as the truth finally, finally stares back at you.
i’m not in love with my best friend.
on both shirts.
identical. same handwriting style.
you stare at his chest.
he stares at yours.
then you both lose it.
you're both toppled over laughing at how ridiculous this was.
“no fucking way,” he gasps.
you wipe your eye, “are you kidding me.”
he steps closer, closing the space until he’s right between your knees, caging you in gently. his smile softens as he looks down at your shirt.
“wow,” he murmurs.
you feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with fabric.
“guess we both lied,” you say quietly.
“guess so.”
his hands caress your face ever so slowly, like he’s giving you time to slap him off but you don’t.
you stare up at him with big, wide eyes. he smiles and inches toward until your noses touch.
he leans in, “can i?” he asks, quietly.
you nod smiling harder than you ever had before. “yeah.”
then, he kisses you.
it’s soft and warm, nothing like that sloppy drunk one you both pretend you forgot.
you kiss him back deeper, your fingers drift through his hair pulling him closer, and the sound he makes against your mouth is almost whiney, wrecked.
the bliss is interrupted by someone yelling from behind you.
“about fucking time,” sukuna bellows.
you break apart laughing again, foreheads still touching. satoru groans and drops his head to your shoulder.
“i’m killing him,” he mutters.
he hops you off the counter, taking your hand. “we’re leaving.”
“where.”
“my room. like, now. these assholes are not ruining my moment.”
you follow him up the stairs both of you grinning like idiots. he's pulling you softly but quick enough the moment isn't lost.
his door closes behind you. the room is dim, only lit by the lamp on his desk, nice and moody.
he doesn’t rush you and he doesn’t pounce like he did with other women. no. he reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “hi,” he says, dumb and fond.
you smile. “hi.”
satoru literally can't fight this urge any longer, he pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms fully around your body. your cheek presses to his chest, right over his heart, and it’s beating oh so fast. one of his hands slides up to cradle the back of your head with his fingers threading through your hair, stroking slowly.
“i’ve wanted this for so long,” he says into your hair. “like, embarrassingly long.”
you laugh softly. “yeah?”
“yeah,” he says. “i just didn’t think i was, like, allowed to? if that makes sense”
you look up at him with a confused smile. “why wouldn’t you be?”
he swallows. his eyes flick away, then back. “because i’m kind of an asshole, if you couldn't tell.”
you knew what he meant. the women, his not so shiny reputation, his arrogance.
“you're not the only one, i didn’t say anything either.” you rub the side of his face.
he smiles into you hand, “why?”
you stop. then take a breath and decide to be brave. “because you sleep with everyone. and i thought if you wanted me, you would’ve... i don't know, stopped.”
ouch, but deserved.
“fuck,” he says quietly. “i hated that you saw me like that.”
“i mean,” you shrug weakly. “it’s kind of hard not to.”
he laughs. “yeah. fair.”
he presses his forehead to yours. “that shit was never about wanting other people, y/n. it was about not knowing what to do with wanting you.”
your head just went really fuzzy at his poetic expression.
“i made a promise to myself,” he continues. “after i realised i was gonna lose you if i didn’t get my shit together. i’m done with it. all of it. i don’t wanna be that guy anymore.”
you search his face, looking for the joke, but he's dead serious.
“i didn’t think i deserved you,” he admits. “so i kept proving myself right.”
for a moment, neither of you speak. then you reach for his hand and hook your pinky around his.
“okay,” you say. “then let’s just… talk. no more of this back and forth.”
“pinky promise.” he smiles and seals it, then leans in and kisses you again. he pulls back for a second then begins to pepper your face in sweet little pecks, making you giggle at the ticking movement.
“i’ve wanted to do this,” he says between kisses, grinning like he can’t stop himself. “just whenever. whenever i felt like it.”
you laugh, hands in his hair now, tugging him back down. “you’re so silly.”
you end up tangled on his bed, just talking. his legs are weaved through yours as he kisses your face occasionally. you tell him you'd been feeling for the past, what, two years? you tell him how the women always made you jealous, how you'd wish it were you he wanted. he spills his guts just as much. he tells you how they never meant anything, how he knew he had a problem and he was working on it, for you.
three hours of straight yap fly by.
he eventually goes really quiet and clears his throat out. “hey.”
“hmm?”
“would you wanna,” he hesitates, suddenly adorably shy, “go on an actual date with me? like. flowers. dinner. me trying really, really hard.”
you smile so hard your cheeks hurt. “yeah. i would.”
his grin is blinding, him and his stupidly perfect teeth.
“holy shit,” he laughs, pulling you close again. “i got the girl.”
you smile, then drift off wrapped up in each other, both of you finally feeling secure in your feelings for one another.
"night, toru."
"good night, sweetheart."
A/N: i'll be writing some spicy/dating headcanons for this fic !!
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Smau: in which you pull the TikTok Tinder prank
Warnings: mostly fluff and crack, angst if you squint ig, cursing, mild sexual language, some of the men are assholes, not proofread
Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Ino, Shiu, Hiromi
okie would u do like mean gojo making reader get used to orgasming more than once cus all her life she’s been like one and done and like gojos tryna break her out of that habit;)
mdni. mean!gojo breaking your one-and-done habit.
gojo’s got you spread on the hotel bed, wrists pinned above your head in one massive hand, blindfold on you because he likes watching your mouth fall open when you can’t see the smug look on his face.
you’re already shaking from the first one. came so hard on his cock you saw white behind your eyelids, thighs locked around his hips, babbling nonsense while he fucked you through it slow and deep. now you’re trying to push him off, oversensitive, clit throbbing, walls fluttering around nothing since he pulled out.
“satoru—wait—i’m done, i can’t—”
he laughs, knees shoving your thighs wider. “done? baby, you’re just getting started.”
you whimper when his fingers slide back down, two of them slipping through your slick folds, circling your swollen clit with barely-there pressure that still makes your whole body jerk.
“see? still so wet. still so greedy.” he presses harder, watching your hips twitch up. “you’ve spent your whole life thinking one’s enough. cute. wrong.”
he’s been at this for weeks—edging you, overstimulating you, making you come again and again until you’re crying and begging and finally admitting you want more. tonight he’s done playing nice.
he pushes three fingers inside without warning, curling them up hard against your g-spot while his thumb stays relentless on your clit. the stretch burns so good your back bows off the mattress.
“satoru—fuck—t-too much—”
“too much?” he mocks. “you came once and thought that was it? nah. you’re gonna come again. and again.”
you’re sobbing now, thighs trembling, trying to close them but he just wedges his shoulders between, holding you open. his fingers pump faster, hitting that spot over and over while his thumb rubs tight, mean circles.
“look at you,” he coos, leaning down so his breath fans your ear. “already dripping again. pussy’s crying for it. you love being forced to take more, don’t you?”
you can’t answer. your second orgasm builds terrifyingly fast, sharper than the first, almost painful. you try to warn him, try to push his hand away, but he just pins your wrist harder.
“don’t you fucking dare stop it,” he growls. “come on my fingers like a good slut. show me how many times this greedy cunt can go.”
it hits you like a slap—almost blinding. and he doesn’t stop. keeps fucking you through it, slow now, dragging it out until you’re whimpering, boneless, tears slipping out from under the blindfold. when you finally go limp he pulls his fingers free and kisses the corner of your mouth, soft for once.
“that’s two,” he whispers, already sliding back down your body. “we’re going for four tonight. maybe five.”
your exhausted laugh turns into a broken moan when his tongue flicks your oversensitive clit.
“satoru—”
“shh,” he says against your pussy, voice vibrating through you. “you’re not done until i say you are.”
