☆ freak god ☆

—

The two of you are entering the curse’s territory. Choso takes this opportunity to stare.

Choso kind of likes you. Scratch that, actually, he really likes you.

You’re strong, capable of much more than you think. Conversation is never strained, doesn’t feel forced. You treat his brother like your own, and you have a genuine care for the people around you that is a true rarity. You care for him.

He’s not used to people yet. Being thrust into the modern world is an adjustment that anyone would struggle with, and everyday does not come easy. But you, you’ve never looked at him sideways, never made fun of or judged him. You just give him that dopey smile that he’s become so fond of.

He was more than a little excited when he was paired up with you for his next mission.

He hides his adoration under layers and layers of indifference. He would rather die than let you know how he truly feels. The rejection might actually kill him.

He watches you even now. Admires the movement of your body, the sway of your hips. The inquisitive look on your face as you look around. Your soft lips are in a small pout. God, he’s utterly infatuated with y-

“Well, this is weird.”

Choso snaps back into reality at your passive comment.

In a subway station not too far off the edge of Tokyo, vines billow across the walls, far and lush. The station is dark, the vines long overgrown and covering the light sources on the ceiling. He only just now notices them, too focused on you to take in the surroundings.

“...Plants?” He murmurs.

“There’s a lot of them.” You hum.

You start to walk further in, and he follows you.

Your shared footsteps echo throughout the hallway, empty and devoid of other people. A light at the end of the hallway flickers. You begin to walk down another flight of stairs, entering the lion’s den even further. 

You have no fear. It makes his heart flutter.

Choso notices that the vines begin to… change. The farther you go, the vines start to grow things. They look like the buds decorating the tree branches in the early spring, except much larger, more bulbous. The buds are red and pulsating, the tips closed so tightly that it looks like the plant could snap in two.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like this.” He mutters, moving closer to inspect the bud.

He walks up to it, looking around it. He can hear your shuffling behind him, probably doing the same. It looks almost alive up close. Yes, he knows that plants are alive, but these look distinctly… human. Fleshy, pumping to the rhythm of a heartbeat.

He pokes it. Nothing happens.

“We should find the curse and get this over with. I’m getting the creeps.” You tell him.

He turns to you, nodding. When he looks back, he only has mere seconds to realize that the bud has opened.

It sprays him.

Immediately, he begins to suffocate. Whatever he was sprayed with coats his airway like a thick slime. He chokes, coughing and gasping for air. He can hear your shout of concern, and he raises a hand to stop you from approaching. 

He swallows roughly. His brain feels numb, like the one time Yuuji made him take a puff of a joint. It’s hazy, but not completely unclear. Choso takes a shuddered inhale. The coating simmers down. His chest feels fuzzy, but he’s not dead or dying. Not yet, at least.

“Did you get hit?” He rasps.

You shake your head, and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

He wipes his face, the pink spatter smearing off onto his hand. He runs his fingers over it. 

What the fuck was that? “Are you okay, Cho?” You ask, placing a hand on his back.

Choso nods reluctantly. He swallows at the contact, your fingertips on his back feeling like they’re searing onto his skin.

“God, what was that? You need to let me know if you start to feel off. We’ll leave right away, I don’t give a fuck what the old man has to say about it.” You tell him sternly.

“Yeah… yeah.” He replies, voice rough.

You stare at him for a moment, worry evident. He returns your gaze. When you finally decide that he’s in an acceptable enough state to keep moving, you sigh, pulling away. 

“Okay. Let’s go.” You say, walking ahead.

When he doesn’t follow, you pause, turning to wait for him. He stands straight, walking after you.

Choso adjusts his collar.

He’s starting to sweat.

—

You occasionally look over to Choso.

He looks… alright. He’s breathing a little hard, maybe sweating a bit. It is humid lower down in the station, you can’t really blame him.

You’re afraid. Whatever it was that sprayed him in the face is in the forefront of your mind. Why have that as a defense mechanism if it was for nothing? Is that all it really was?

You care about him. Probably more than you should. He’s never given you any indication that he gives a fuck about you in return, so you really, really shouldn’t. You can’t help it. He grew on you from the moment you first met. On those nights where you’re all alone and thinking about things too deeply, you start to believe that maybe it’s more than just care.

It’s something else entirely. Something all consuming, the type of feelings that make your chest ache when he’s in your presence. If something happened to him and you did nothing to stop it…

You give him another glance.

He has a flush working its way up his neck, evidently pink, and not previously there. It gives you pause.

“Cho, you good?” You ask nervously.

He doesn’t appear to hear you. He continues walking, a distant look on his face.

You stop.

“Choso.” You state warily.

Slowly, he turns to look at you. His cheeks are flushed, the blush working its way up to the tips of his ears. His bottom lip trembles before he speaks.

“What?” He rasps, voice still rough from whatever entered his windpipe before.

“I’m asking if you’re okay.” You repeat. “I need to hear you say it.”

He’s looking at you, but it’s almost like he’s looking through you. He’s breathing harder now. He gives you a long, heavy once over. His gaze is intense, amber eyes filled with something you can’t quite place. Something distant and needy and longing all at the same time.

Your heart skips a beat.

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead.

“I…” He begins, trailing off.

He’s fully panting now. You move closer, placing a hand on his forehead. The first thing you notice is the fact that he’s burning up. The second is the depraved whine that rips from his throat the second your skin makes contact with his own.

Your eyes widen. His own do too.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t- I’m not-” He rambles.

“We need to leave. I’m taking you to Shoko.” You tell him with finality.

“I’m okay. I swear, I-” He gulps harshly, “I just need a second.”

“Choso, you’re burning up. You’re sweating, and you’re not acting like you. Something is wrong. We need to leave.” You state.

He hesitates. You can tell he’s struggling. That he wants to power through, wants to get the job done. 

He’s never really said no to you, though.

“Fine.” He grits out.

You give a curt nod, swivelling around and heading back the way you came. He follows you.

All that echoes through the hallway is the sounds of your shared footsteps and the increasingly heavy lilt of Choso’s breathing. You occasionally spare a glance. It doesn’t ease your concerns. He’s only getting worse.

You yourself are starting to not feel too great.

It’s like a haze that is silently impeding on your vision, creeping in on the edges of your sight, blurring. You’re sweaty. It’s really fucking hot in here. It’s distracting, but not completely debilitating. You will it away, forcing yourself to walk, one foot in front of the other.

When you reach the second level, the footsteps behind you stop.

You turn around.

“Cho?”

He’s nearly bent in half. Choso is gripping the wall next to him, swaying slightly. There’s a bud right beside him. It’s partially opened, slowly leaking the particles that sprayed him directly in the face earlier.

Now that you look closely, all of them are.

Panic grips your chest.

“We need to go now.” You spit, walking up to him.

You’re about to drag him up these last two flights of stairs by his arm, but he holds a hand out frantically.

“Don’t touch me!” He shouts. “D-don’t.”

Startled, you step backwards. His hand shakes in the air where he holds it out. 

He looks up at you, and Choso looks positively fucked.

Hair messy, eyes foggy, mouth parted. There’s a desperation on his face that you’ve never seen before. You watch the rise and fall of his chest. You stare at his lips. Heat licks at your core. You clench your thighs together where you stand.

Wait…

What?

Realization dawns on you all at once. It washes over you like a violent wave. If it wasn’t your own arousal suddenly crashing into you that made you aware, it was the way Choso shifted, revealing the thick, large bulge in his pants.

It’s not making the two of you sick.

It’s an aphrodisiac. A very, very strong one. One that hit Choso directly in the face.

“C-choso. Cho- we have to move. Can you do that for me?” You say, wobbling slightly.

He shakes his head. His legs tremble, and he falls to his knees. Panic. It leaves you, trickles away like rain. You don’t want to leave. You have to. You want to stay. You need to go. To move. 

You want him.

Oh. This, you think, is bliss.

You bite your lip. It bleeds. The blood trickles down your chin as you attempt to gain footing. To regain yourself.

A hand finds your chin.

Your eyes widen. You watch, in what feels like slow motion, as Choso’s tongue licks all the way up from the base of your chin to your bleeding lip, lapping up the crimson. The amount of slick that leaves your already dripping pussy should be criminal.

“C-cho…” You whisper, voice teetering on begging.

“M’sorry, m’sorry, I c-can’t-” He whines. “Help. P-please.”

“We can’t do this, i-it’s not right.” You stutter, words slurring together.

Choso, still kneeling, grinds against your leg. You swear you can feel every inch of his thick cock. You’re barely keeping yourself standing, only still up with the repeated mantra of get out, get out, get out replaying in your mind.

He gasps, hands gripping onto your thighs.

“I j-just need… just a little bit. Need you, need to feel y-you.” He breathes.

The image in front of you is pure sin. Temptation. The sight of Choso desperately grinding himself on you for relief that only you can provide… it beckons you. You feel yourself slipping.

It would be so easy to just…

“Okay. J-just a little.” You pant.

You frantically undo your belt buckle as Choso repeats ‘thank you, thank you’ over and over again. 

You pull your pants down over the swell of your ass, and Choso is on you before you can even blink. He pulls you down to the ground roughly, your ass hitting the tile. He crawls over you, caging you in with his thick arms.

The both of you struggle to fish his cock from his loose pants in a frenzy. You barely have time to take in the sheer length of him before he’s humping your clothed pussy. It’s rough, your whole body bouncing with every thrust. You gasp, and he whines into your shoulder.

“G-guh, fuck, feels s’good, need more!” He slurs, gasping.

“Cho- hold on, just w-wait!” You cry out.

He continues to hump you like an animal as you reach in between you to pull your panties to the side. You grab his heavy cock, briefly admiring the thick vein that runs up the side before he begins to fuck your hand too. He leaks into your palm, pre dribbling out over your knuckles.

It’s not normal. It can’t be.

“Please, please, baby, please…” He begs.

“Shh, it’s okay, Cho, I-I’ve got you.” You tell him, shushing gently.

You line him up, and before you can even tell him you’re ready, he pushes himself inside in one swell thrust. You gasp harshly, and he throws his head back. For a moment, you’re caught up in the genuine surprise that he fit.

He wastes no time. He fucks your pussy like it was made for him, breaking you in and stretching you open. Your cunt aches around him, the stretch a heavy burn. Grabbing your clothed legs, he pushes them over your head, giving him unrestricted access to your sloppy hole.

You groan, drool leaking out of the side of your mouth.

You can barely think. The haze consumes your thoughts, your vision, your very being. All you can think about is him, him, him.

In a final act of sanity, you try to rip as many clothes off Choso as possible to attempt to take his fever down. He’s a beast, completely and utterly consumed by instinct, long past reason. He ruts into you like a man starved, deprived of your pussy, his lifeforce, until this very moment.

“C-cho, fuck, slow d-down…!” You cry out, head lolling back.

He gives you no response, no indication that he’s even still present. He pants, mouth dropped, eyes distant and unfocused.

“Fuck, f-fuck, feels s’ fucking good, I-I can’t-” He slurs.

The tip of his cock rams into your cervix, and you let out a choked gasp. He gets off on it, his cock twitching violently inside your leaking cunt. 

Curses fall from his lips. You call his name once, twice, anything to grab his attention. It doesn’t work. 

“I can’t, I c-can’t- fuck!” He hisses.

Choso lets out a strangled groan, and you immediately know what happened. He fills your stretched pussy with his warm seed, the excess spilling out and leaking down your ass. His head is thrown back, mouth in a sweet ‘o’ shape.

You pull him down into a sloppy kiss. All full of teeth and tongue and oh so perfect. It’s sobering, for a moment.

You’ve imagined kissing Choso plenty of times. Not once did you ever think it would be like this.

You let out a sigh of… relief? Disappointment? Doesn’t matter. It’s finally over.

At least, you were sure of it until Choso, who’s still hard, keeps fucking his cum deeper and deeper. 

His hips slap against the back of your ass, the sound now wet and sloppy with cum. There’s barely a rhythm to it. He’s just fucking you however he pleases, using you for his pleasure. He pants on top of you, and you grip his messy pigtails desperately.

“Cho, cho!” You cry out.

All you can do is blubber his name, his full balls slapping against your ass, your grip in his hair tightening. Choso moans loudly, unashamedly, clearly beyond lost in the sensations.

“Gonna fill you up over and o-over and over again. W-won’t let you go until you’re full of my baby.” He rasps.

You whimper, and he chuckles lowly.

“You like hearing that? Wan’ me to breed this little -fuck- pussy, huh? God, I knew you would, so-... so good for me!” He gasps.

A thick layer of cream wraps around the base of his cock, a sticky mixture of your juices squelching with every thrust. He stares at it, a wild look in his eyes. His pubes grind hard against your clit, and your legs tremble.

Your pussy tightens, and you feel your climax approaching. Your nails rake down his bare back, leaving red marks in their wake.

“Gon’ cum, gonna cum Choso, o-oh fuck!” You whimper.

He fucks you harder, faster. He’s crazed, desperate to feel the clenching and fluttering of your walls around him.

You cum fucking hard, your screams echoing through the empty halls of the subway station. Your cunt clamps around Choso’s cock like a vice, and he grits his teeth, fucking you through it.

“Yes, yes, yes, thereee you go, my s-sweet girl, hah, fuck!” He spits out, eyes clenched tight.

He doesn’t stop. You’re not sure he’s physically capable of stopping anymore. Choso is running on nothing but the high of your tight pussy, sucking him in further and further. 

It feels like a never ending orgasm, just keeps riding. His thick cock just keeps dragging against your walls, and you can feel every vein, every throb. The sensations have you gripping and clawing at him for relief that never comes.

“Chooo, I c-can’t, I can’t take anymore!” 

He laughs, depraved and husky.

“You can. I- hngh, I know you can take i-it. Just a little more, baby, I promise.” He slurs.

You whimper, nodding. Deep down, you know the truth.

You’re in for a whole lot more than just a ‘little more’.

—

Face down against the tile, drool spilling down around your cheek, you wonder how many times Choso has bred you at this point.

It has to be at least, what- five, six times? He’s out of control. Fucking you prone bone against the cold tile, your eyes roll back, unintelligible quiet babbling spilling from your lips. Choso, behind you, grunts, low and deep.

“You’re doing so good, so good, so so good…” He murmurs incoherently.

You passively look behind you and find that he’s not even talking to you. He’s speaking to your pussy, spreading your cheeks and staring at where the two of you are connected. It has to be a nasty sight, multiple of his loads leaking out of you mixed with your own countless orgasms.

He runs his finger along the base of his cock, collecting all your combined juices. He sucks them off his fingers, moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Tastes s’good.” He whines.

You whimper, lips swollen and pouty from how many times he’s bitten and kissed them. He does it again, this time raising it to your lips.

“Taste, baby.” Choso murmurs.

You part your lips for him, and you make eye contact while you suck his fingers clean. He nearly whimpers, his rutting faltering for a brief moment. He’s fucking you long and deep, no longer the quick hard thrusts he was doing previously. 

You can tell he’s becoming exhausted, that the aphrodisiac that has wormed its way out of your system long ago is finally starting to leave his own. You kiss along his wrist where it’s caging you down, and he places messy smooches on the back of your head.

It’s become more… intimate, the more he winds down. He’s coming back to himself, but losing himself in the sensations of your body all the same. You don’t know what it means. You’re scared to find out. 

With a particularly hard thrust where his tip kisses your cervix, you let out a choked gasp.

You’re done. Far beyond checked out. Choso reaches in between the two of you to rub circles around your clit, and the overstimulation makes you sob.

“This feels good, right? This spot right here?” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You shake your head.

“No, C-cho, I can’t give anymore. I can’t- ah! I can’t do it!” You plead.

“It’s okay baby, one more time, that’s all I want. I need you to give me one more, can you do that for me?” He moans, feeling you clench around him.

Tears roll down your cheeks, but you nod all the same. You don’t trust your voice enough to answer him with words. He huffs softly, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck.

“Good girl.”

He continues to rub on your little nub, fucking your abused pussy that’s now shaped just like him. You focus on your upcoming orgasm. You, contrary to your better judgment, want to please him. Crave his praise. 

If he wants an orgasm from you? You’ll do anything to give it to him.

Not that you have to work very hard, anyways. The drag of his fat cock inside you, the friction, it makes you squirm. You’re genuinely afraid of the next orgasm that is about to be pulled from you. It’s coming hard, strong, and fast. 

You can tell it’s going to be all consuming.

“Choso!” You warn, body tensing.

“Let it happen, baby, give it to me. Want -fuck- want it so bad. Need to feel you!”

You whine, you cry, you tremble, and with a gasp and a tensing of your whole being you let go for the last time.

He holds you through it, thrusting gently into you to let you ride it out. Choso murmurs sweet nothings, praising you and encouraging you to keep feeling. 

Spurred on by your own orgasm, Choso’s hands clench into fists, and he lets out a strained groan, cumming inside. You don’t feel anything fill you. You realize that he’s cumming dry, and he’s truly emptied the gas in his tank.

It’s over.

And only then do you hear the repeated ‘I love you’  spilling from his lips.

Choso lays beside you, and the two of you catch your breath. Your bottom lip trembles with every gasp for air, and you can hear Choso heaving. In a voice so small that you almost can’t hear, Choso whispers your name. You turn to him, the two of you locked into each other’s eyes. 

“You don’t have to say anything, Cho. I know.”

He sighs, leaning over to place a small peck on your forehead. You’re unsure about a lot. His feelings for you, your feelings for him. But, more than anything…

You run your hands along your body, sensual and smooth up the beads and pearls on your attire. The pearls jingle under your touch, ringing out and disturbing the air. You push your breasts upwards, even more so than the corset generally does.

You don’t break eye contact. In your movements, you make sure to stand up to his confidence with your own. In this game between you two, you won’t lose. There’s nothing more you hate than losing, even if it is to your own special client.

His golden eyes watch you like a hawk, wanting to drink up every single movement. A predator stalking his prey. His eyes are lidded, observing with a faux indifference that you can see right through. 

In the middle of the song, you take off your corset. Reaching underneath the corset to grip it, you knock each peg off the front. You twirl it around for a bit before throwing it at your special guest. He catches it, gently folding it for you and placing it to the side.

You feel much freer now. Your body moves like water, smooth and delicate. You step a little closer to him, getting on your knees and doing your floor routine. 

His eyes follow the sway of your hips and the swell of your ass while you move. You have him entranced, the ash on his cigar building up and falling off with how little he’s paying attention to it. On the ground, you make a split second decision. You face away from him, reaching behind your back.

You take your brassiere off.

It’s nerve wracking. It’s exhilarating. You’ve never once taken the top piece of your costume off in front of a client, and you find yourself in front of Nanami willing to do anything to keep his eye.

You look at him over your shoulder. All he can see is the bare of your back.

Your nipples harden in the cool of the room, your body warm with excitement. When you finally allow him a taste, a viewing of your bare body, you can feel the air in the room shift. He doesn’t look appreciatively anymore. Doesn’t have the energy of a strong man with a boyish crush.

He looks hungry. Starved, even.

His posture shifts to one more tense. You look up at him from under your lashes, batting them lightly. Seductively, you stand and walk slowly, grabbing feather fans from off to the side. Your heels tap against the floor, the music rattling your chest.

You bat the fans lightly, covering your bare chest and then revealing it to just him. The feathers feel light against your breasts, the gentle brush giving you goosebumps. His cigar is in the dish now, barely smoked. Nanami sits forward, taking in everything he can.

He makes you feel so wanted. People have watched with admiration before, with lust. No one quite gazes at you like him. He observes your movements like you’re already his. Possessive, protective, and dominating, all rolled into one simple survey of your body.

And maybe you are. Perhaps you always were, from that first moment on the stage.

—

You straighten out your form fitting ruby red dress, pulling at the bottom and making sure it fits your breasts just so.

You’ve been mentally preparing for hours. Your nerves are alight with excitement, at the prospect of seeing him once more. And it’ll be different this time. 

After Nanami’s private dance, he walked you home, ever the gentleman. In front of the steps of your apartment building, he offered to take you out for drinks. Somewhere outside of your regular establishment of work.

Of course, you agreed.

A ping can be heard across the room, and you swiftly pick up your phone.

Nanami: The car will be outside shortly.

You stare at the ceiling, taking a deep, calming breath.

You have other concerns. Ones that feel like they ravage your body from the inside out. You’re afraid he won’t like you after the veil of being a performer is lifted. That if you are no longer on stage, flaunting your assets, he’ll be less interested in getting to know you. It’s a very real possibility, one that has happened to multiple girls at the club.

The hardest part is that you’ve been appreciating the attention, enjoying his firm presence in your life. If that were to be ripped away now? You don’t really know if you could recover from that.

You grab your clutch, locking your front door and heading down the elevator. Your foot taps in your heels the whole way down, the nervousness finding its way out. You walk through the lobby, giving a small smile to the front desk worker. 

Nanami’s car, a sleek black Rolls Royce, pulls up to your apartment building. It makes you feel extremely out of place, as your building is nice, but not a six figure car nice. Nanami steps out from the backseat, and you feel your body immediately lose all the tension it had stored in your bones.

Heat builds up in a different way when you see his attire. He’s not wearing a waistcoat this time, choosing to instead flaunt a black suit jacket and a button up top that is down quite a few buttons. You’ve never seen his bare chest.

You feel like a scandalized woman from the 1800’s with how hot and bothered it makes you. You’re a grown woman, not some flustered virgin. You take a shuddered breath to calm yourself.

He gives you a long, heavy once over. When he reaches your face, a soft smile breaks out.

“Angel.” He greets, opening the door for you.

“Nanami.” You purr, stepping into the car.

He slides in beside you. He signals the driver to go, and the car starts to drive away from your building. 

“You look beautiful tonight, darling.” He murmurs in your ear.

You lean into him, smiling softly.

“Hm. Not as ravishing as you, though.” You whisper back.

He chuckles.

“Have you always been so well versed in flattery?” He asks with a grin.

“It’s not flattery, I’m being honest.” You leave out the part where you’re always honest with him, “But no, I haven’t. I was quite awkward once upon a time.”

“Now that I would have liked to see.” 

“I’m glad you never will. It was… a rough period.” You say wistfully.

He offers his hand, never takes, and you accept. His fingers run over your knuckles, feeling the soft skin and the rings you wear.

“I want to know all of you, Angel. A little awkwardness doesn’t scare me.” He tells you.

“Really? So there’s absolutely nothing I could do to scare you away now?” You ask slyly.

He hums, thinking about it carefully.

“Well, perhaps one or two things.” He chuckles.

“I knew it.” You say triumphantly. “Maybe I just have to be a little crazy to test the waters.”

“Being crazy was not on that list.” 

“What about liking bad romcoms?"

“Hm.” He purses his lips.

You laugh at him, nudging him gently with your shoulder.

“I’m just joking. Although I do rather enjoy a good romance every now and again.”

“A romantic, huh? I would’ve never guessed.” He teases.

“You seem to be quite the romantic yourself. A fancy date, luxurious gifts. What’s your deal, Mister Perfect?” You question.

“Hm.” He murmurs, hand gripping yours tighter, “Not particularly. I find that with you, though, it’s easy for me to give you everything. I would, if you asked for it.”

“I want a car.” You grin.

“We’ll go to the dealership tomorrow.” He replies seriously.

You gape at him, before backpedaling.

“I’m joking. Please don’t.” You beg.

He chuckles, maintaining eye contact with you. 

“You may be, but I am not. I want you to know how serious I am about you. About… this.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. You know what he’s referring to, and it’s the uncomfortable grey area that sits between you two constantly. 

“I am as well.” You smile.

You look past him, out the window, and see one of your favourite restaurants.

“Have you been there?” You ask him, gesturing outside.

He glances over, and then shakes his head.

“I’m afraid not. You know it well?” He questions.

“It’s one of my favourites. They make a divine house made pesto. Their crostini platter is amazing as well. We should go sometime. It’s not fancy or anything like that, though. I’m not sure if you would like it.” You confess.

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, as you call it, Angel. I’m not so conceited. I would love to.”

Your heart flutters at how quick he was to agree to another meeting.

“What kind of food man are you, Nanami?”

“In what way?” He asks, amused.

“Are you more of a steak and potatoes man, or are you a salad guy?” You muse.

“My favourite is seafood pasta. Does that satisfy your curiosity?” 

“Interesting. I’ll have to think about it.” You grin. 

The car stops. Nanami exits, gesturing for you to wait. He walks around the car, opening the door on your side. You thank him, and he wraps an arm around your waist to walk you inside.

His arms are strong and sturdy around your midsection. His hand splayed out on your hip makes your face burn, suddenly feeling a little warm.

There’s security at the building, and they nod to him as he walks by.

“You come here often?” You ask, curiosity peaked.

“Sort of. This is one of my favourite places to unwind after a long day at work. I figured I would share a little bit of myself with you as well.”

“Do you bring women here a lot?”

He pauses, taking a long glance at you before laughing under his breath.

“What?” You question.

“Jealous already, Angel?” He grins.

Your ears feel hot with embarrassment, and you turn your face away. With a finger under your chin, he pulls you back to look at him.

“No. The answer is no. I’ve only ever brought you here.” He tells you.

You nod, processing the information. Satisfied, Nanami begins to speak with the front desk attendee. 

You attempt to hide your smile. It feels good to be let in like this. To be someone’s number one. It has been a long time since you’ve meant much of anything to anyone, let alone a man.

“Mister Nanami. Welcome back.” The clerk says.

“Elio.” He greets.

“Table for two today?” The man says with a sly smile.

“Indeed.”

The man grabs the menus, leading the two of you down the hall. It’s mostly a lounge. Not quite a restaurant, not really a bar either. It’s alternative, red lighting illuminating the gold accents and green velvet furniture. 

You peer at a tiger statue as you walk by.

The two men talk about Elio’s children and family, and you briefly wonder how often Nanami comes here to know about the front desk clerk’s life. 

Elio places the menus down in a booth close to the back corner. You slide in, thanking him gently. 

You sit close enough to Nanami for your knees to brush if you move too much. 

“A scotch for you, I assume?” You tease.

“You think I’m so predictable. Maybe I’ll switch it up and get a cosmo.” 

“I’d like to see that.” You grin.

“You will see it. I’m full of surprises.” He says, amused.

“Oh no, Nanami, I don’t doubt that.” You purr.

The waiter comes over to take your drink orders. You purse your lips at the menu for a moment.

“A negroni for me, please.” You tell him, turning to Nanami.

“Scotch, double. Anything top shelf.” Nanami says. 

You laugh under your breath as the waiter confirms the orders. He leaves, and you look over to your date.

“Surprises, right?” 

“Maybe another day.”

By midnight, you’re on your fourth drink. The two of you have been chatting for hours, talking about anything and everything that comes to mind. The alcohol has loosened you up a little, making all your nerves just melt away.

“Tell me about little Nanami.” You murmur, running a finger along the edge of your drink.

“What do you want to know?” He asks, leaning back.

“Anything. You mentioned your parents. Were they kind?” You ask.

“They were… there, sometimes. I don’t blame them. We were poor growing up. My mom had to work two jobs to make ends meet. It couldn’t have been easy for them.”

Until this point, you’ve assumed that Nanami has always been this way. Poised, practiced, the kind of man that grew up with money and no longer finds it interesting. Perhaps he’s just adapted to his environment, much like you did.

“My family was the same. It’s hard, being in the city doesn’t help either.” You reply, swirling your drink. “Are they… still around?”

“Yes. Living much better than they previously did.” He says.

“You’re generous, Mister Nanami.” You smile softly.

“Of course. They’re my parents. It would be wrong of me to leave them behind, family is important to me.” He replies. 

You hum in acknowledgement and silent agreement.

“What of your parents?” He asks.

“It was just my mother and I growing up. She worked a little too hard, but she was a good mother in the end.” You say.

“I would like to meet her sometime.” He says, finishing off the rest of his drink.

You chuckle.

“Yeah, good luck with that.” You reply, flagging down a waiter for another drink.

“No longer with us?” He asks.

You nod.

He places a hand over yours on the table, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry, Angel.” 

“Don’t be.” You murmur, “It was a long time ago.”

“That kind of wound never leaves.” 

“I suppose so.” You whisper.

The waiter takes your orders for another, and you’re left in silence.

His hand is still on yours.

“You ordered a Manhattan this time.” You smirk, focused on the way his skin feels on your own.

“Told you, surprises.”

You chuckle. He pulls his hand back, and you find yourself desperately missing the warmth.

“It’s still whiskey. Not too far off from your regular order.” 

“Just wait, next time I’ll order a shirley temple.”

You laugh louder this time, leaning back in the seat. 

“When did you discover this place, anyways?” You ask.

“A few years ago. Back when I could only afford Johnnie Walker.” He chuckles.

“Ah, how times have changed then.” You smile.

“I’m lucky my boss hasn’t discovered where I go after hours. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t. I would never know peace again.” 

“Cruel?” You question.

“More like annoying.” He replies, looking put off at the thought of his boss.

“Don’t worry baby, he can’t get you here.” You chuckle.

“I hope not.” He says, amused. “Especially not when I have such a beautiful woman with me.”

“Scared he would sweep me off my feet?” You tease.

“I would never let that happen.” He replies, suddenly serious.

You chuckle softly. 

You reach down, tracing a hand along his leg. Your palm brushes along his grey pant leg, slowly, enticingly. 

“Don’t fret, sweet pea. I only have eyes for you.” You whisper softly, looking pointedly from his lips to his eyes.

A satisfied rumble comes from his chest, low and deep. He looks at your hand briefly, then back up to your face.

Desire. You could recognize it from a mile away. It’s dripping from him, coming off in gentle waves through his citrine eyes. His hand finds your jaw, tracing along it lightly. Leaning into his touch, you nearly purr, your lips running along his palm.

You resist the urge to jump on his lap and beg for him to fuck you.

“Needy thing, aren’t you?” He murmurs.

You bite your lip to hide the embarrassing whimper that was about to escape your throat. You nod slightly.

“Just for you.” You reply.

He presses his forehead against yours, your noses brushing. Your breathing intermingles with his, puffs of air coming out in gentle shudders. He looks pained, eyebrows scrunched together, like he’s trying to resist temptation. 

“Stop fighting it.” You breathe.

“We shouldn’t. Not on the first date. It’s not proper.” He whispers.

“It’s not.” You agree.

Your bottom lip brushes against his, your mouth parted.

“I am a gentleman.” He murmurs.

“You are.” 

Your breath comes out in shudders, body trembling with anticipation.

“It would be wrong of me.”

“Mm. Perhaps.” You say, “But maybe I want you to be a little naughty.” 

Nanami meets your lips gently, enrapturing you in a kiss. 

It’s slow. Lips interlocking for the first time, the kiss filled with every ounce of nervousness and uncertainty. His hand traces your jaw, thumb rubbing along your cheek. You moan quietly, the sound muffled by his mouth on your own. 

It’s relaxed, leisurely, and every bit as electric as you’d hoped it would be. 

You pull away first, panting from the lack of air. You meet his eyes, hoping that your own convey everything you’re feeling for him at this moment.

“Again.” You breathe.

He grins, before pulling you back in once more.

—

Like clockwork, he’s there the following Wednesday. 

He watches you the entirety of your first set. Of course he does. It’s one of the best ones in a while. The crowd hasn’t gotten this rowdy for you in at least a week. 

You always do better when he’s there. You work harder for him.

In your dressing room, you sit, your next outfit already on. A cigarette hangs from your lips, the smoke curling and swaying in the still air of the room. A half empty glass of scotch sits on your vanity, the condensation from the glass slipping down the edge.

It’s quiet. You enjoy the peace.

At least, until there’s a knock on your door. 

It’s your boss, the owner of the club. He walks in before you even answer the door, taking a look around. You raise an eyebrow, leaning an elbow onto your dressing table. He flits through the racks of your attire on the wall.

“You mind?” You ask, nodding to your current setup.

“You’ve been bought out for the night.” He suddenly says.

You sit a little straighter.

That’s not a cheap gesture to make. 

“Who?”

“Nanami Kento. I wouldn’t have accepted, as I rarely take those kinds of offers, but security told me you know him. That, and the fact that he handed over a pretty penny for you.” He muses, walking back towards the door.

“You know him?” You ask.

“I know of him. Only heard whispers of his name. Was told by my men that he started frequenting the club, but I never met him until now.” Your boss replies.

You nod, taking in the new information. People know of him. His name must be big. You want to know why.

“Angel?” Your boss suddenly pipes up.

You turn to him, his hand on the doorframe.

“Be careful with that man.”

—

The music starts.

You step out into the private room, one heel in front of the other. Your movements are slow and restrained. Every sway of your hips, every curve of your arms has purpose. Intent.

He’s there. Sitting on the couch in that same spot he was during the last private dance. The only difference is now you have him all to yourself for the whole night. An entire night of restraint doused in buckets of sexual tension. 

The lighting is purple this time, the beads on your outfit glimmering under the low light. Your fishnets are a new brand today, one you’ve never tried. They feel scratchy on your skin.

You do the usual gimmick for a while. It feels like deja vu. You strip off a few layers, revealing your skin to Nanami. He drinks it up, passively puffing on his cigar. The two of you still haven’t spoken, enough being said from your body language alone.

On the fourth dance, you begin to get bored of the routines.

You decide to wing it.

The song plays, the lighting changing back to the usual red. You revel in the familiarity of it.

Your movements are no longer gentle. Your heels clack off the ground harshly, your legs moving swift and rough. The bass of the jazz over the speakers rattles your chest. He can tell something is different this time. That you have something planned. He leans back, intrigued.

You remove your headpiece, throwing it off to the side carelessly. You throw your arms up, moving them slowly back down your body. With a small twirl, you face away from him. Your hips sway, swerving just enough so that the movement shakes your ass.

You can hear the appreciative hum it receives over the sound of the music.

You throw your head to the side, gazing at him from the corner of your eye. Your eyes are lidded, the thought of what you’re about to do filling you with adrenaline. 

You remove your brassiere, swinging it around your finger before tossing it to the side. As if on cue, your nipples harden under the cool air. You’re left in just your fishnets, heels, and panties that matched your corset. 

You never step off the stage. You’re not supposed to step off the stage in a private dance. As your boss likes to say, you work in a respectable establishment. There’s no hands on touching between the girls and the men who pay to see them. 

You ignore all of it.

You step down from the stage. Nanami looks momentarily surprised, like he wasn’t expecting you to stray from policy and routine. It feels good to catch him off guard.

You step towards him, slowly now, no longer having quick footsteps. Swiftly, like you’ve practiced this a million times, you place a knee beside his on the couch, and swing your other one over to sit on his lap. He leans back, taking in the view.

You grind on him for a moment, the exhale escaping his lips creating violent butterflies in your stomach. Power. It flows through you. You have complete control of him, whatever reactions that get pulled out of him are because of you, and the rush makes you dizzy.

You grab his hand, moving it up the expanse of your stomach, from your belly button, up, up, up to between the valley of your exposed breasts. He lets you guide him. Doesn’t push, doesn’t take. Allows you to show him what you want. 

You move his hand to rest over your breast, and he gives you a look asking for permission. As if you didn’t just place his hand directly on your tits. You laugh softly, grinding down on his lap.

Nanami takes over then, rolling the bud of your nipple between his fingertips. Somehow fondles your breasts exactly how you like them touched. Like he knows you without even asking. His other hand sits on your waist.

You feel it then. His cock is hard underneath the thin material of your panties, straining through his slacks. He’s big, and god, you fucking knew he would be. You preen, head thrown back, gasping at his hands touching all over you. 

He toys with the thin straps of your underwear, long fingers threatening to rip them right off. You would let him.

His palms on your bare skin lights up your nerves, your body feeling like it’s on fire. You can feel a wet spot beginning to form in your panties, your clit rubbing just right against the clothed head of his cock. 

You’re not even dancing anymore, lost in the feeling of his body against your own. Your body moves on instinct, grinding against him like it’s what you were made to do, what you were born for. 

With a firm grip on the back of your neck, Nanami pulls you down into a sloppy kiss. It’s raw, all teeth and tongue. His hand guides your hips back and forth on his lap. You moan into his mouth, loud and unashamed. You place a hand on his shoulder for support, the other running along his exposed chest. 

He pulls back from the kiss, and your core pulls tight when you see how undone he appears. His lips are glossy, hair mused. Your lipstick is smeared across his mouth and down the side of his face. He looks up at you with devotion in his eyes, desperation pulling across every feature of his face. 

“I’m finding it harder and harder to be a gentleman around you, Angel.” He breathes, hands running along the expanse of your thighs, “Will you forgive me?” 

Your lips part, a grin pulling across your face.

“I already do.”

—

The next week, Nanami meets you in your dressing room.

You called for him, the security guards bringing him back to you. When you hear the knock on your door, you call out a simple ‘come in’, already knowing who it is. 

You watch Nanami in the mirror as he opens the door, stepping into the small room.

“You called?” He asks.

You chuckle.

“Don’t sound so disappointed. I just wanted to speak with you before my next set.” You smile, amused.

“Disappointed? With you? Never.” He says, almost chiding. 

He walks up behind you, a hand placed on your shoulder. You hum, leaning your head to rest on his arm.

“I missed you on Wednesday.” You tell him.

He hums, gently massaging your shoulders.

“I apologize for my absence. I had some business matters to attend to.” He replies.

You make a noise of acknowledgement, grabbing your setting powder to dust over your face. The particles of powder fly in the air as you tap the excess off your brush. 

“I know you’re a busy man. I won’t ask you to be here all the time.” You say honestly.

He digs into a particularly deep knot in your neck, and you whine, leaning back into him. He chuckles, shushing you gently.

“So tense, Angel. Is everything alright?” He asks.

“Mm, I’m not that stressed. All I think about is you, so I’m pretty lax these days.” You grin lazily.

He chuckles at that, removing his hands from your neck. He leans on the wall nearby, pulling a cigar from his suit jacket. 

“You’re not supposed to smoke in here, Mister Nanami.”  

“You’re acting like I can’t see the ashtray full of cigarettes on your vanity.” 

You laugh, your teasing clearly not working. 

“So serious. And you say I’m the tense one.” You smirk.

He lights the cigar, taking a few short puffs.

“I apologize. Perhaps the work is finally getting to me.” He replies with a sigh.

“I’m just teasing.” You murmur, standing from your chair, “Sounds like you need some stress relief.” 

You walk closer to him, your hand finding his chest. You run the tips of your fingers along the bare skin you find, dipping under his shirt. He peers down at you, an eyebrow raised.

“Stress relief.” He parrots.

“Yeah.” You simply say, your hand going down further, “I can be very good with my hands.”

Your palm rests on his belt, gripping it lightly. Your body presses up against his. He watches you, eyeing your every move like a hawk. 

“What do you say, Nanami?” You purr.

He hums, low and appreciatively. He leans down over you, close enough to murmur in your ear.

“You think you can handle it?” He asks, voice gravelly.

Heat licks at your core, crashing over you in a violent wave. You exhale, smiling.

“I know I can.”

He grabs your hips, lifting you up and dropping you onto your vanity. You gasp, and his mouth finds your own.

You wrap your legs around his hips, bringing him closer. It’s not even close to enough, and you whine into his mouth, wanting more. He presses himself against you, dexterously removing your corset one peg at a time. He throws it to the side, moving onto your bra next. 

The minute it’s off and your tits drop, he’s groaning into your mouth like a man starved. His palms find them almost immediately, rubbing along the expanse of your breast, working his fingers up to your sensitive nipples.

You arch into him, body on fire at the touch. You remove his suit jacket, ripping it from his arms while he swiftly pulls the panties off your body. Your bodies are tangled, caught in a frenzy of trying to get as much skin showing as possible. You gasp when he turns you around, your elbows on the table, feet on the floor.

Nanami rips a hole along your fishnets, the rough treatment bouncing your body around. He crouches down so that he’s eye level with your cunt. When he finally gets a view of your already dripping pussy, he melts, a shuddered exhale leaving his throat. 

“God, you’re soaked, sweet thing.” He groans, running a finger along your wet slit.

You whimper in response, needy beyond what you thought was possible. You sway your hips back and forth a little, attempting to seduce him into giving you more.

“Nanami, please…” You sigh, back arched.

He holds your hips in place, effectively keeping you still.

“Patience, Angel.” He begins, voice a low rumble, “Let me enjoy this.”

You feel his tongue lick a stripe up your cunt from bottom to top. He takes his sweet time, laving his tongue lazily over your wetness.

You thought he would be restrained, put together even in the most primal of situations. Instead, he’s sloppy with it, making out with your pussy, his spit and your juices combining. He latches onto your clit, and you arch, a choked moan ripped from your throat.

“Nanami!” You gasp, calling out for him.

He sucks, licks, and draws circles around your clit. You can tell your cunt is already puffy with need, his face nestled between your folds. You hold onto the vanity for support, desperately clinging onto anything you can. His mouth is filthy, the sensations he’s giving you lighting your body on fire. Your toes curl in your stilettos, head thrown back. 

He spreads you open for him, his thick hands wrapped around your thighs. He’s eating it from the back like it’s his last meal, devouring you, chipping away at your sanity until there’s nothing left. With a thumb on your clit, he inserts his tongue inside your neglected hole.

You cry out as his tongue stretches you open, pushing back onto his face. His chest rumbles, the vibrations making your legs tremble. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking g-good at this, yes!” You moan.

He pulls his tongue back out, focusing his attention back on your clit. His lips wrap around it, pulling and sucking hard. He pulls his hands back, rolling up his sleeves. 

Two thick fingers slip inside your tight hole. He holds your asscheek with his other hand, simply marvelling at the way your pussy sucks in his fingers, attempting to milk them.

“Sweet girl, so perfect for me. Look at her, this tight little cunt, she’s sucking me in.” He murmurs, giving your asscheek a firm slap.

You whimper, his fingers hitting you in all the spots you can’t reach on your own. They curl downwards juuust right, hitting that spongy spot in your walls. You nearly choke out a sob, head falling between your shoulders.

“Please!” You beg.

“Please what, darling?” He replies smoothly.

“I want to cum!” You plead with him, teetering so close to the edge.

He chuckles softly, rubbing comforting circles onto your hips. 

“What do we say, princess?”

“Please, please, please make me cum!” You babble.

He hums, placing a kiss on the asscheek that he slapped. 

“Good girl.” He murmurs.

He slips a third finger inside, curling them and pumping them in and out of your soaked cunt. Your pussy is positively dripping, little rivulets of your juices slipping down and falling onto the floor. The sound of his fingers inside is obscene, obnoxiously loud and squelching with every thrust. 

“Fuck, I’m so close, don’t stop!” You cry out.

He whispers praises, the words flowing freely from his lips. 

“That’s it, cum for me, I know you can do it. I can feel it sweet girl, you’re almost there.” He says encouragingly.

With a final push of his fingers, you cream all over them, cunt clamping violently around his fingers. He groans, feeling your pussy fluttering around him. Moans and cries fall freely from your lips as you ride out your high.

“Thereee you go baby. You’re doing so good, cumming all over my fingers in your changeroom like a dirty slut. My sweet girl.” He murmurs, voice low.

Panting, you push yourself off the vanity. He looks at you curiously as you stand.

“Your turn.” You say, grabbing him by the belt.

As you begin to undo it, he puts you back onto the vanity, now sitting on it. You whine, and he shushes you.

“Next time.” He huskily says, leaning over you.

He unbuckles his belt, and you watch, mouth watering in anticipation. 

When he finally pulls out his cock, you nearly cry from joy.

It’s long, thick, with veins running up the sides. His hair is neatly trimmed to perfection, just like the rest of him. It looks divine. Looks like everything you’ve ever wanted.

He runs his cock between your folds, both of you sighing at the contact. You shudder when the tip of his cock gets caught on your needy clit. 

He catches himself on your hole, pressing himself inside. You groan at the stretch, and he pauses only a few inches in.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” He asks, restraint evident in his strained voice.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you pull him all the way in, his cock fully seated inside you. He lets out a choked moan.

“More than. Stop dicking around and fuck me already.” You grit out.

He pulls out, pushing back in with force. You gasp, head thrown back against the mirror. He shows you no mercy, immediately giving you long, deep strokes. You feel every inch, the veins rubbing against your walls. 

“Nasty girl, is this what you wanted? For me to fuck you nice and hard?” He spits, hands spreading your thighs.

“Y-yes!” You breathe, desperation seeping in. 

It feels crazy, just having cum and him plowing you not even minutes later. Your legs shake under his sturdy palms, his thick cock stretching you open. You look down at where the two of you are connected, jaw dropped at how much you’re taking. 

“Fuck, sloppy pussy making a mess all over me.” He groans, “Look at that, sweet thing just creaming around my cock.” 

“Nan-ami, f-fuck, so big!” You moan.

The slapping of his hips against your ass is loud, the squelching in between your legs even louder. His cock kisses your cervix, and you know you’re going to be sore tomorrow. The idea of him fucking you until you can’t walk strokes some sort of ego inside you, body preening at the thought. 

He’s rough with you, nails digging into your thighs, cock being thrusted inside you at a brutal pace. He’s hit the peak, teetered too close to the edge between being a gentleman and destroying your fat cunt. All that restraint, that resolve, it’s all gone, his psyche stripped bare for you to see. For only you. 

“Yes, yes! Just like that, please, more!” You beg, babbling whatever comes to mind.

The table underneath you rattles with the force of his thrusts, glass falling off the table and shattering on the floor. You ignore it, you ignore everything but the feeling of Nanami in between your legs, on top of you, over you. 

You reach up, gripping his hair by the roots. You pull him down into a sloppy kiss, and he groans into your mouth, pushing your legs up further. 

“So tight and wet, fuck, I’m losing it-” He cuts off with a moan, pussydrunk beyond belief.

You can distantly hear the cheers of the crowd in the main room. No doubt your next set is coming up. 

Fuck them.

You don’t care who comes looking for you, as long as Nanami keeps fucking you nice and deep, you’ll ignore everything. All your responsibilities, your job at the club, everything.

You don’t know when it happened, but you would kill for the man in between your legs. 

You claw at his arms, his chest, his back. Anything to stabilize you, your sharp nails raking down his body, leaving red lines in their wake. He looks like he doesn’t even feel it, balls slapping against your ass, his pelvis grinding just right on your clit. 

Your stomach drops when you feel it. Another orgasm, and it’s about to wash over you hard. A little line of drool peeks out from the corner of your mouth, and he wipes it away with a thumb, cradling your face. 

“Oh, fuck, Nan’mi, cumming, cumming!” You warn, choked gasps leaving your throat. 

“There you go baby, cum for me. Let me feel it again.” He breathes, forcing you to look at him with a hand on your jaw.

Your eyes roll back, your orgasm hitting you in violent waves. Your body shakes, vision blurring, ears ringing. He keeps fucking you through it, hard and fast and so, so much. A tear escapes you with how overwhelming the sensations are, body still twitching.

His thrusts become uneven. Messy. You know he’s going to cum, and you memorize these telltale signs in your very being, not letting it go.

If he came inside you right then, you would welcome it.

“F-fuck, cumming, going to cum-!” He grunts, jaw clenched.

With a choked moan, he pulls out, jerking himself off and painting your mound with sticky white ropes of cum. You sigh in relief, running a hand along his scalp.

“Yeah, ride it out baby.” You coo, another hand running along his chest, just briefly passing over a nipple. 

“Hah- yes, fuck…” He sighs, coming down from his high.

The two of you make eye contact.

He looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists in the world.

Your second date was at a bar. 

Ino mostly talked at you. You really just sat there, stirring your drink, checking your phone every now and again. His blabbering all kind of melded together after a while. It was when Ino suddenly looked past you, his eyes lighting up, that you began to pay attention.

“Nanami-san!”

Oh. Great.

You turn around briefly, not at all ready for this awkward conversation. 

When you turn around, you’re not expecting his boss to be as attractive as he is.

Clean cut, blond hair tidy, suit pristine. His shoulders are broad, filling out his suit jacket in a way that makes your thighs clench. He has to be older than you by at least ten years. Nanami looks mildly put off to be spotted, but obliges his junior in coming over.

“Ino-kun.” He says, voice monotone.

Ino begins to chat once more, completely losing track of you in the presence of his superior. You roll your eyes a little. Stirring your drink, you glance at this illustrious Nanami that you’ve heard so much about. 

He’s already looking at you.

You take a sip from your glass, watching him from over the rim.

Ino suddenly remembers your presence, looking at you with an ‘oh shit’ expression.

“Oh, I totally forgot to introduce you two!” He says, exchanging your names to each other.

You smile, slow and sultry.

“Yes, I’ve heard a lot about you, Nanami.” You say.

“Likewise.” He replies, looking down at you through tinted glasses.

His voice is deep, the baritone in his voice breaking the silence. It makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Come sit with us, Nanami-san!” Ino chirps.

“I do not believe that is appropriate, Ino-kun.” He scolds gently.

“Nonsense!”

Ino grabs a chair, pulling it up to your table. You resist the urge to groan at his lack of awareness. You’re supposed to be on a date, for fuck’s sake. You might as well not even exist at this point, his focus entirely changed to the man beside you. 

Nanami lets out a great, deep sigh, sitting in the chair Ino brought over. He takes off his suit jacket, placing it on the back of his chair.

Ino talks, and you completely zone out. Why? Nanami is rolling up his sleeves, and you’re too busy drooling over his veiny forearms to keep track of any of the words leaving Ino’s lips. His arms are thick and beefy, and you desperately find yourself wanting a taste. 

The night continues much like that. Ino talks, Nanami listens, you do neither. Ino is also too absorbed to notice the way Nanami’s eyes occasionally flicker to you, full of intrigue and curiosity. When you look, he’s always watching back, and vice versa.

Almost like a little game.

At the end, when Ino has finished one too many drinks, with Nanami still at zero and you remaining at one, he offers to drive both of you home.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. I’d rather you get home safe.” Is what he had said.

You and Ino sit in the back of his car. He drops Ino off first, his apartment closer than your own. Ino leaves the car with an over exaggerated wave. 

“Bye, Nanami-san!” He yells.

You snort, expecting as much.

Nanami stays silent.

—

You throw your head back, gasping.

Parked outside of your apartment building, still in Nanami’s car, you find yourself on his lap.

You grind back and forth over his hard, clothed cock. Your mouth waters at the sheer size of it in his slacks, your eyes rolling back. He chuckles at you, giving your ass a firm slap.

“Ino, Ino… He’s competent, but so foolish.” Nanami murmurs, “Ignoring such a pretty little thing. I thought he would know better than that.”

His big hands guide your hips, grinding you down onto him. The wet patch in your panties grows larger, staining his well tailored pants. He tuts, gripping your ass.

“Look how wet you are. Naughty thing, aren’t you?”

You whimper, nodding. You’d agree to anything he told you at this point. 

“Mm, fuck, want your cock inside me.” You moan, gripping the headrest. 

“Yeah? I bet, little one. Can feel your wet little cunt clenching around nothing.” He groans.

You reach down, basically ripping open the buckle on his belt and unzipping his pants. You pull his length out, whining at how perfect it is. You prop yourself up, pushing your panties to the side. You sit straight down on his cock, the entire length slipping in easily with how soaked your pussy is.

You cry out at the stretch, his girth filling you to the brim. He groans, gritting his teeth when you fully seat yourself down. 

“So fucking tight…” He mutters, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. 

“Oh, Nanami, s’big!” You slur, struggling to adjust. 

He hums, low and deep in his chest. 

“Come on, sweet thing. Ride my cock, I know you can do it.” He nearly purrs. 

You nod, lifting up, up until only the tip is inside. You slam back down, a choked moan leaving your throat when his spongy tip pokes your cervix. 

The sloppy sounds of you bouncing on his cock fill the car. You leave a thick rim of cream around his thick base, your pussy slobbering all over him. He helps you along, hands propped under your thighs, guiding you up his thick cock. Nanami whispers sweet praises in your ears, encouraging you. 

“Yeah, that’s it, look at that pretty pussy. Taking me so well, fuck- yes!” He groans, head thrown back. 

Your hips slow, and he takes over, planting his feet and fucking up into you. He fucks you hard and deep, giving you long strokes. The car shakes with every thrust, and he sucks bruises onto the side of your neck. Your dress pushes upwards over the swell of your ass. 

“Ohh- fuck, Nanami, yes! Fuck me just like that!” You cry out.

Your clit grinds against his pelvis, the delicious friction making your eyes roll back in your head. His cock feels like it keeps getting bigger and bigger, swelling up. Your tight pussy molds to the shape of him, long and curved.

He keeps hitting that sweet spot, and you feel your orgasm coming on rapidly. You babble mindlessly, nearing the edge.

“Daddy, yes- please! So close, please fuck me- don’t stop!” 

His cock twitches violently, and he grits his teeth. 

“Yeah, gonna cum all over daddy’s cock? Cum, sweet thing, let me feel it.” He grunts, balls slapping against your ass. 

You do just as he asks, squirting all over his thick cock. He moans, his thrusts getting rougher.

“That’s it, good fucking girl, I knew you could do it. Fuck- gonna cum, shit-!” Nanami groans.

You clamp harder around him, and he pulls out, cumming all over your mound. Thick, milky ropes spill out from the tip of his cock, gooey and warm on your tummy. He lets out soft moans, and you jerk him through his release. 

You both pant, catching your breath. You scrape the cum off your stomach with your finger, sucking it clean. 

He stares at you, nearly awestruck. 

The lights are blinding. The cheap staircase creaks under your footsteps, and yet the second you exit the backstage room you’re on polished marble and surrounded by lavish velvet curtains.

You walk slow, sensually as the music begins. One pointed heel in front of the other, long fishnet covered legs moving gracefully. The crowd is rowdy today. You can’t see them quite yet when your eyes are still adjusting to the overpowering stage lights. The backup dancers enter after you, big feather fans covering you from vision.

You enter with a wide smile, all teeth and no honesty.

Your workplace is well known, and not for being a friendly environment. You get bad men with shit attitudes and big pockets. The men are handsy, but the bouncers are better. You’ve worked somewhere more respectable, of course. But the men aren’t as loud and they don’t throw cash at you like they have nothing else to spend it on.

‘Cause they really don’t. And you like the attention.

Your routine starts. It’s a new dance, just choreographed a few days prior and not yet been seen by the clients. You lipsync along to the music when the words begin, red painted lips grabbing the eyes of one too many hungry men. 

The feather fans move, and you step forward, a vision dressed in all white. The steps come to you like they're etched into your body. Your corset is tight, restricting the movement of your upper half and pushing your assets much higher than they should be.

Your hands trace along the expanse of your body, and you turn, removing the feather plume just above the swell of your ass. You throw it to the side, revealing the open piece in the back of your dress. The crowd whoops loudly, and you throw a cheeky smile into the void. 

One leg in front of the other. A swerve close to the backup dancer, leaning in for an almost kiss just to add to the sex appeal. Your stilettos are loud on the marble, but not as loud as the music coming from the speakers. Your now adjusted eyes sweep across the room as you take the gloves off every so slowly, just to the rhythm of the music around you. 

That’s when you see him.

A few tables back, dead center in the middle of the room. 

You see a lot of stares on a daily basis. Most lecherous, others passive, a few envious. You’ve never seen a gaze quite so intense. It makes you feel like he’s not just watching the routine, or focusing on the way your body moves. He’s looking at you. So deeply and so passionately analyzing you that it nearly throws you off balance.

A cigar hangs from the tips of his fingers. His suit is sharp, more pristine than perhaps all of the men here. His features are crisp and angular, not a blonde hair out of place on his head. His eyes are a warm shade of amber, and you’re surprised you can tell from your position on stage. He’s leaning forward, elbows on the table and hands crossed, an air of nonchalance surrounding him that doesn’t quite fit the look he’s giving you. 

Regaining your composure, you continue your practiced dance. You rarely feel the gaze of another on you. You’ve been in the business too long for that. When you turn away from the crowd, though, you can sense him. As if he’s right behind you, hand on your hips, breath in your ear. Except he’s twenty-five feet away, and you’re on stage far from his touch.

The music takes a turn, all horn and straight jazz. You take that as your cue to move your hands up, up, and knock the top button off your corset. You don’t have to look, you know he’s watching carefully, but curiosity gets the better of you. 

He doesn’t watch your hands as they carefully undo your own lingerie, he chooses to make eye contact. As if he knew you were going to turn and look at him.

He takes a puff of his cigar, leaning back in his chair. It’s magnetic. His gaze undresses you and makes you feel more vulnerable than any nudity on stage has ever brought out. When the corset is fully off your midsection, he uses that opportunity to give you a quick once over. He swirls his scotch around in the glass before taking a deep sip.

You watch his lips part around the glass, your own mouth in a soft ‘o’.

He’s dripping in sex. You want a taste.

Your last step is to take the skirt off your lower half, and you do, body moving in a quick circle and tossing it to the side. 

The crowd is still cheering and whistling. You smile and wave, giving them what they want.

The only one the smile is meant for is him.

–

There’s a short intermission in performances where the girls get ready and the men outside converse with the others they came with. Drinks refilled, cigars relit. 

In the backroom, the girls hide a bottle of dark rum for confidence shots. You need one, and you haven’t needed one in a long, long time.

After grabbing a glass from a work friend, you throw the rum back, throat burning. You resist the urge to gag, taking a shaky breath. It’s not enough. You need a little more.

Throwing on a robe, you head out into the main room and walk straight to the bar. You give a bouncer a look to let them know you’re heading out of the backroom, and he gives you a nod back.

Deep, deep inside, you know the truth that you won’t admit. People start to filter out during the second half, and you don’t want to miss him. You need to lay eyes on him at least one last time before the night is over. Your mystery man, the one whose set of citrine eyes won’t leave your head.

You walk, heels clacking, soft jazz playing in the back. Some of the men try to approach, but you walk straight by, and they get a stern talking to from the bouncers shortly following.

Even if there are some dangerous men in the building, security is tight. You aren’t concerned about walking to the bar.

Your only concern is finding him.

Approaching the bartender, you ask for some random fruity drink on the menu. Far from strong, but you don’t need the drink to get a buzz. You just need him, and when you want something, you damn sure get it.

You don’t even get the drink from the bartender before you feel it again. His gaze.

You smile, softly biting your lip to try and control your childish excitement.

“Put her drink on my tab.”

The voice is smooth like butter. Raspy and deep like thick wisps of cigarette smoke and spice, soft like the fur throw pillows in your changeroom. It’s perfect. You laugh softly, turning to your right where the voice came from.

“Sorry, sweet pea, they’re on the house for the girls.” You purr, looking to the bartender. “His drink is on me.”

The bartender nods, walking away swiftly to help the next patron. 

He laughs softly, taking it in stride.

“I’m afraid my attempt to introduce myself hasn’t quite gone how I’d hoped.” He says, taking a step closer.

He’s more attractive up close. Big, broad. Taller than you thought he was going to be. He’s definitely muscular, large biceps hidden under the well tailored suit. You hum.

“Well, not all hope’s lost. I’m still here.” You tell him, taking a sip of your drink from the small black straw.

He offers out a hand like a gentleman. Not pushing, not forcing. You take it.

He raises your hand up, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your knuckles. While you smile at him softly, internally you can feel the way your cheeks heat up.

“Nanami. Nanami Kento. It’s a pleasure to be in the presence of a woman quite so divine.”

“You flatter me.” You say, voice smooth.

“I’m afraid not, Miss Angel. You captivated me on that stage. I can’t say I’ve ever felt that same way at any point in my life.” He confesses.

Your hand is still in his. Reluctantly, and with a trace of your finger along the expanse of his palm, you pull away.

“Just Angel is fine, baby. No need for formalities.” You continue, “And I’m glad. I hope to invoke a response from my dancing.”

Nanami hums.

“Is that what that was?” He drawls, low and sultry.

He’s seeing right through you. The same way he saw you on that stage, he’s looking at you now, unravelling you, reading you to a point that almost makes you uncomfortable. Almost.

You’ve never been viewed quite like this.

“Perhaps not.” You say, taking a sip of your drink. “Who’s to know?”

A chuckle now. He leans on the bar, pulling a cigar out of his pocket and flicking on his lighter. 

“You play that role well.” He states.

Confused, you shoot him a look. Smoke billows out of his mouth around the cigar.

“Naivety. As if you’re clueless to my eyes on you the whole night.” He says, taking a quick glance down at your lips, “As if you didn’t watch me your whole routine.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“You’re rather forward, Mr. Nanami.” You tell him with a sultry smile.

“Is it too much?” He murmurs.

You shake your head. Soft jazz is still playing in the background. You recognize the song. It’s the one they play right before the next girl is about to go onstage.

“Not at all.” You admit, suddenly very shy.

“I’m glad. I would hate to offend a lady, especially one as ravishing as you.” 

With a quick glance around the room, you make an unnerving realization.

The men in the room would have usually tried to swarm you like flies at this point. You’ve been out for so long you were genuinely surprised no one else other than your mystery man came to approach. Now you know why.

All of them are looking at you. Nervous. Afraid, even. 

Then, you understand, they’re looking at him.

“Just who are you, Nanami Kento?” You ask curiously.

 He raises an eyebrow, cigar hanging from his lips.

“Do you want to know?”

A rhetorical question. You pluck his cigar from his lips, taking a slow puff provocatively. 

It’s a nice cigar. One that isn’t cheap by any means.

“No. What fun would that be?”

“Nanamin~!” 

A voice calls out from the crowd. Nanami’s demeanor shifts, suddenly looking very tired and mildly irritated. He lets out a great sigh.

“I apologize. I must go.” He says.

Your shoulders slump, and you silently curse whoever it was that was calling out for him.

“Will I see you again, Mr. Nanami?” You ask, trying not to let your disappointment show.

You offer him back his cigar. He declines.

“Keep it, darling.” He states, beginning to walk away, “Just Nanami is fine. Ignoring the formalities, right?”

He leaves without answering your question. You grin.

That night, when you go on for the second time, you’re wholly unsurprised to see him still present in the crowd.

—

Nanami visits twice a week. Every Wednesday night, and every Friday as well. He shows up at ten o’clock without fail. Never late, always sharp and pristine. He’s taken to a spot closer to the front, the kind that you have to hand over a stack of cash for. 

You’ve caught him off guard during the other girls’ performances. He doesn’t watch them the way he watches you. He barely pays attention at all, choosing instead to write… something in his pocketbook. Perhaps work related scribbles.

You wouldn’t know, you haven’t verbally spoken to him since that first night.

You speak to him through your dances.

When you bend over, you make sure to watch him the whole time. While you slowly and provocatively strip off each bit of the luxury pieces donning your body, you make sure he’s looking first. He always is.

After your most recent performance, you relax in your dressing room, getting ready for the next one. A knock rings out on your door, and you pause, standing up from your chair to go and open it.

A bouncer is waiting outside.

“Angel. You have a client that wants to speak with you.” He says.

Clients that have big pockets also spend it on stupid shit. Private conversations and meetings are one such case. The girls are allowed to say no, but the men are also allowed to offer. The girls that have more meetings gain more popularity with the crowd, and thus more money.

You’re one of those girls. At least you were.

“Tall, blonde, small glasses?” You ask, leaning against the doorframe.

Until him.

“No. You hoping for someone else?” The bouncer asks with a chuckle.

You smile, disappointment obvious in your stance.

“Something like that. Not tonight. Let them know.” You tell him with a flippant wave.

“Will do.” He says, before leaving you alone.

You close the door, sighing loudly as you slump into your chair. This was stupid. The waiting, the teasing. It leaves you with a constant simmering frustration that you want more. You barely spoke that first meeting, and you’re supposed to be okay with that?

Every time you peek your head out after your final performance, he’s gone into the wind. You should be going out, seeking him out in between performances like you had done the previous time. But you’re stubborn. 

You want to be chased. To be craved by him.

Carefully buckling up your next outfit, a red corset dripping in tassels and pearls, you’re filled with a new determination. If he doesn’t want to approach you after this next performance, nothing will ever make him change his mind.

On the way out, you let them know to change the song.

The usual routine follows. The cheers getting closer, the lights, the girls half dressed passing by. Your long sheer feathery black robe catches dust on the floor as it drags along. You don’t hesitate today. You’re already walking onto the stage before they can finish announcing your name.

The lights are a different colour with this routine. Red, more sultry, more passionate. The music is slow to start. You’re on the stage alone this time. 

Your robe swishes to the side when you move, giving the crowd a cheeky view of your ass. You look into the crowd, carefully moving the robe further and further up while you make eye contact with your new favourite patron.

He’s there, of course he is.

He looks as he always does. Favourite brand of cigar in between his lips, suit jacket hanging off his shoulders, golden locks of hair carefully styled back out of his face. He’s wearing navy today, with a striped vest.

God, you want to rip it right off him.

You want to be the one to make him flustered for once. To see him lose his cool attitude that he always carries in the air around him. You’re sick of being thrown off balance, of being the vulnerable and shy one. No one has ever had this effect on you, least of all any of the clientele. 

Some commotion is heard from the middle of the room. You ignore it. Probably another bar squabble.

You face away from the crowd, slowly bringing the robe off your shoulders, and letting it fall to the ground.

It doesn’t have the reaction you’d hoped for. What is usually whoops from the crowd at increased nudity is now yells and screams. You turn around, trying not to let the confusion show on your face.

You’re immediately met with the culprit of the yelling. 

A man stands, directly in the middle of the room, as angry as you’ve ever seen a man. He’s short, stout, and rather ugly if you’re being quite honest. That’s not your main concern though. Your issue, and what you’re too delayed to do anything about, is the fact that he has a gun pointed right in your direction.

You freeze. Time stops.

What the fuck? 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. In your peripheral, you can see that the bouncers aren’t moving fast enough. Everything seems slower, more drawn out. Your brief moment of terror stretches out into multiple minutes of agony.

Your body won’t react.

Move.

Move. 

It seems that, in the grand scheme of things, there were greater plans for your future than dying here. It all happened in the span of a few seconds. The pointing of the gun, him on the ground.  While you remain frozen in place, the man gets tackled to the floor by none other than your knight in shining armor.

Nanami.

The girls run out from backstage, yanking you by the arm and into the backroom. There’s still shouting, the chaos growing louder and louder. The lights are dim when you walk behind them, almost in a trance. You don’t have time to look behind you.

The girls are calling your name, and it sounds like you’re underwater. They bring you into the back, give you something to cover up with, and offer some hot tea. You decline.

One of your coworkers, Tulle, a rather petite girl with a short pixie cut, stays with you in your dressing room while the others figure out what’s going on outside. The two of you wait.

Your mind wanders to Nanami. Was he alright? There didn’t seem to be any gunshots from what you perceived. You wouldn’t know anyways, you were so fucking out of it. Your head wasn’t present at all. Why did you freeze? You could have done anything. Fought back somehow, ran away, screamed for help.

Yet you froze.

Silently, and angrily, you grip Tulle’s hand. She squeezes back, a sympathetic look on her face. 

It’s stupid, how badly you want to cry. You’re stronger, better than that. You’ve been through worse. If Tulle sees a tear slip, she doesn't say anything about it.

The head of security for the bar enters the room. Both of you look up.

“We’ve identified him by one of our bouncers. He’s the same one who tried to pay for a meeting with you earlier, just couldn’t take the rejection I suppose.” He says woefully, “Don’t worry, Angel. He’s in cuffs now.”

Ah.

It doesn’t feel any better knowing that he’s gone, despite the fact that it probably should. You can still see the gun in your head, a memory constantly on repeat over and over. Can still hear the screams of the people in the room reacting to a man waving a gun around.

Nanami.

“The man who saved me, is he okay?” You ask suddenly.

He nods.

“He’s fine. Looked thoroughly pissed about the whole thing, though.” He smirks.

“Is he still here?”

“No. He left before the cops got here.” 

Your heart sinks. He left? After all of that?

You would have thought that he would at least check in after to make sure you were okay, even if it was brief. It’s a heavy disappointment that perhaps your knight in shining armor wasn’t the man you thought he would be, regardless of if he did save your life.

“We’re shutting down the club for the night. Go home, rest, Angel.” He states, before heading for the door.

“Right…” You murmur.

“Oh. Actually, I almost forgot.” He turns around, fishing a small box out of his pocket.

“He left this for you.”

He leaves after handing it to you. The box is velvet, and it doesn’t feel cheap.

“What do you think it is?” Tulle asks, peeking over your shoulder curiously.

Only one way to find out.

It ends up being a bracelet. A diamond one, platinum plated and with the smallest winged angel charm hanging from it. You lift it up carefully out of the box, watching the jewels glimmer in the light. Tulle whistles in appreciation from beside you. Your breathing hitches as you take it in.

What an interesting man.

—

You don’t take time off work. You also don’t see Nanami for a few days after that. 

Against your better judgement, you missed him in the crowd. It wasn’t the same performing when he wasn’t there to watch. The cheers felt empty. Stripping off your outfit piece by piece meant nothing. It was just… a job. No longer as pleasurable as it once was.

It makes you wonder what happened to him. If he got scared off by the events of the previous week. You’d hoped not.

And you’d be proven right. When you do see him again, it’s a Monday.

A knock at your dressing room door calls for you, something you’ve become familiar with as of late. You open the door.

“Angel, you’ve got a client here to see you.” He says, voice light.

A flashing image of the gun comes to mind. Not the man, not the room, not even the situation itself. Just the barrel of a gun pointed right at your chest, silver and deadly.

“No. I already told you, no more clients for now.” You tell him sternly.

“You’ll want to see this one.” He states, words ominous.

You pause, analyzing his face. He seems serious.

“Fine.” You concede, sitting down in your chair.

He walks off then to retrieve the customer. Deep down, you don’t even have to look. You already know who’s going to be at your door.

“Angel.”

Your eyes glance up in the mirror. Nanami stands in the doorframe, tall and looming. You look back down, reaching for your signature red lip. Slowly, you reapply.

He waits for you to finish.

“What do you want?” You ask, detached.

He moves from the doorway, taking a few long, slow strides over to your place in the chair. He doesn’t touch you. He’s too much of a gentleman to take without asking. He just stands over you in the mirror.

“I… I apologize. For last week.” He says hesitantly.

You side eye him.

“Do you mean for your absence? Or for the fact that I almost got shot?” 

Nanami doesn’t flinch.

“Both.”

“Why’d you leave?” You whisper, finally spitting out the question that has been plaguing you for multiple sleepless nights.

He sighs. He looks like he’s choosing his words very carefully, thinking hard about his next statement. You can see multiple times how he begins to say something, and then pulls back.

“Myself and the police don’t get along very well.” He decides on.

“... Ah. I see.” You reply quietly.

You should’ve known better. A man doesn’t come here unless he’s wrapped up in some shady shit. Perhaps you presumed he would be different. He seemed different from the other patrons. Less crass, less boisterous, not as likely to brag about things he shouldn’t be doing.

You look up at him, still in the mirror. He’s waiting patiently for your reply. Testing the waters.

“Everyone here has had their fair share of run-ins with the cops.” You tell him, organizing the already tidy desk of your vanity.

He hums shortly. A deep, comforting sound.

“You’re wearing it.” 

The bracelet he gifted you sits lightly on your wrist. It glimmers, it always does. Shines constantly. It would be annoying if it wasn’t a constant reminder of him. A steady ground to show you that in spirit, he’s still here.

“I am.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

He offers a hand out to you. You place your palm against his, and he inspects the piece of jewelry adorning you. The piece he adorned you with.

“It looks more beautiful on you than I could’ve imagined.” He murmurs appreciatively. 

All the tension, all the apprehension and stress immediately leaves your body. You sigh, leaning into him. You wanted to be mad at him. It would be easier than this. Easier than craving him, than needing him by your side for more than a few fleeting glances and moments.

“You didn’t have to get me this, you know. I can tell it wasn’t cheap.” You say.

You know the difference between real pieces and fakes, after all. Your time as a dancer has given you an astute taste for luxury.

“I wanted to give you a gift of my appreciation. You work hard. You deserve to be treated.” He confesses, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

You feel your face flush with gentle heat. The kind that licks at your ears, makes you shy away from touch.

“Thank you, Nanami. Truly. I’m grateful.” You tell him. 

“Don’t be. It’s the least I can offer. For as long you allow, I intend to treat you properly. As a man should.” He states, voice a heavy drawl.

“Careful, Nanami. I’m starting to think you’re coming here just for me.”

“I am.”

You pause at that, finally turning around to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to admit it so… casually. The eye contact that follows is heavy and thick with tension. Your mouth parts, trying to find the words that are desperately trying to come out. Your thick eyelashes bat at him gently.

“Really?” You stupidly say.

He doesn’t laugh at you, doesn’t smile. He simply crouches low.

“From the very moment I first saw you on that stage I was mesmerized. I hadn’t, and still have not, seen a woman quite so enchanting. You’re a vision, Angel.” He murmurs, “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.” 

It’s a crime, really. How fast he tears down your defenses. 

You’re used to being smooth and charismatic. To charm men with petty words and a pretty smile, make them fall in love. With him, your ability to speak leaves you stranded. Alone. You’re left defenseless against the curve of his lips, the intensity of his eyes.

“Well, I do like to hear how perfect I am.” You smirk, regaining some footing.

“And perfect you are, darling.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Nanami.” You smile, “Say, why did you start coming here in the first place, sweet pea?”

He hums.

“Originally, it was just for work. My boss had occasionally visited with clients and wanted to bring his men along as well. After I saw you, though, it became something beyond what I ever anticipated.”

“And what is it that you do for work?” You ask, amused.

“... I’m afraid I don’t believe I should share that with you.”

“Boo.” You stick your tongue out at him.

He chuckles at that.

“Come on, don’t be like that, Angel. It’s better this way. For both of us.” 

“Hm. I suppose I’ll just have to believe you this once.” You smile cheekily.

Your smile drops slightly when you see how close the two of you are. Your eyes dart down to his lips, and back up again. He saw it. He sees everything. Sees right through you, strips you bare without even trying.

You let out a shaky exhale. Your hand is still in his. You’ve been holding each other the whole time without even realizing it. The contact, now in the forefront of your mind, feels electric. His brows furrow slightly, as if he’s holding back and it pains him.

The cheers from the main room interrupt the moment. The second half of performances is starting. 

You look at the door, sighing. Nanami stands to his full height once more, clearing his throat.

“I’ll see you out there, Angel.” He says, pulling a cigar out of his pocket.

“Wait!” You exclaim quickly.

He pauses, surprise etched across his features. You take a breath, composing yourself.

“What about a private dance?”

Hina puts on your powder, and Miwa settles the headpiece atop your head.

“Are you excited, my lady?” Hina asks, positively beaming.

You grin at her, cheeks already hurting from how much you have been smiling throughout the day.

“More than, Hina. I still cannot believe that this is happening.” You confess, picking at your nails.

“It was always meant to be. Everyone could see it but you two, apparently.” Miwa pipes up, fastening the piece in place.

You scoff playfully, shoving her lightly. She laughs, backing away to make sure that your veil looks right. 

“Beautiful.” She chirps.

The three of you giggle, the pre-wedding nerves kicking in.

A knock echoes through the room, and you turn to the door.

“Come in!” You yell.

A butler comes in, a letter in hand.

“For you, my lady.” He says with a small bow.

You take the note, thanking him. You open it as the butler takes his leave.

My love,

As I am unable to witness your beauty prior to our wedding, I must share this note with you instead. I cannot wait to see you in your wedding gown, walking down the aisle. I just know you will be positively radiant. I only hope you are not as nervous as I, for if you are, we are both in a bit of a predicament.

On a more serious note, do not fret, my dear. Today will be perfect, just like you. I cannot wait for this day to be over so we might begin our lives together. My beautiful bride, I will await you at the end of the aisle, and I cannot even begin to describe how delighted it makes me.

I love you,

Choso

Your ears burn as you read the letter. You did not realize he could be so romantic. 

Miwa squeals behind you, and you turn around to see the two ladies reading the note as well. Flustered, you close the note, and they giggle at your embarrassment. 

“Who knew the Duke could be so charming!” Miwa exclaims.

“He has reserved it only for her.” Hina replies, powdering your face.

Miwa picks up your jewelry, fastening it around your neck. She puts your earrings in as well. Both women take a step back, and you look into the mirror in front of you.

Choso was right. You do look radiant.

“You are beautiful, my dear.” Hina murmurs.

You smile softly at her.

“Are you getting emotional, Hina?” You ask, teasing.

“No.” She says, wiping her eyes.

You laugh, rubbing her arm gently.

“Say, do you know anything about… tonight?” Miwa asks suddenly.

You tilt your head, confused.

“I am aware that things happen.” You reply.

“Do you know what they are?” 

You are minutely under the impression that whatever happens during your wedding night is supposed to allow you to bear children. You are also privy that it is called consummation. That is as far as your knowledge goes. Your mother refused to ever have a further conversation with you, the topic never being broached with anyone else.

“...No.” You admit sheepishly.

Miwa and Hina give each other a glance

“Well, that will not do. I will go grab the drawing papers.” Hina says, walking away.

You give Miwa a look, and she gives you an apologetic glance.

—

“So he… inserts himself. How long does this go on for?” You ask.

The papers are laid out in front of you, graphic depictions of intercourse on every page. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment, but you force yourself to look anyway. Clearly, this piece of knowledge that you were lacking is of utmost importance.

“Usually only a few minutes.” Miwa says, and Hina nods.

“Depending on the man, sometimes longer.”

“Does it hurt?”

“The first time? Greatly.” Miwa replies.

You cringe, not anticipating needing to do something like this on your wedding night. You were not aware what consummation entailed. It makes your nerves begin to creep to the surface, tickling your skin. You are lucky to be having this conversation now and not later.

Then, you picture Choso, who you will no doubt be sharing a bed with tonight. In these positions. Fully nude.

You shake your head rapidly, trying to rid yourself of improper thoughts.

“Alright, I believe I understand!” You say, standing up from your chair unexpectedly.

Miwa and Hina both jump at your sudden display.

“Shall we put the dress on?” You ask rapidly.

“Uh- yes! We shall.” Hina replies.

Hina runs to grab the dress from the next room, and you are left alone with Miwa. She grabs your hands, holding them tightly.

“Do not be nervous. Today will be perfect, from beginning to end. You will look back on this day fondly for many years.” She reassures.

You smile, tense shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Thank you, Miwa. I do not know what I would do without you.” You say earnestly.

She grins, perking up.

“I know.”

—

Your mother and father ride with you in the carriage. It brings you an odd sense of deja vu to be in this exact same position only a week after the previous. This time, your mother speaks to you in hushed whispers, even though your father can still hear.

“And remember, darling, to smile the whole time. Men like that.” She utters.

You roll your eyes at her softly.

“Yes, mother.”

“Good.” She replies.

You think that the conversation of her telling you exactly what to do is finally over, until she turns to you once more.

“I do not like the Kamos.” She says sharply.

You stare at her.

“A…Alright.” You tell her, dumbfounded.

“But…” She says, voice softening.

“I like them a lot more than I liked Lord Geto in the end. You are lucky. I am glad.” 

It is an apology, a concession, a statement that shows she sees you. It is the only acknowledgement you will likely ever get from her about the situation with Lord Geto. You assumed, and it appears correctly, that she was not particularly fond of Lord Geto, especially after what you told them about his dishonouring. 

In the end, your father is the one who makes the calls. Your mother, in a grander scheme, has no real say in the matter.

Your father stays silent. You nod softly.

“Thank you, mother.” You murmur.

Satisfied, she gives you a curt nod, and returns to staring back out the window. You are grateful in many ways that you will not see your parents after this. Since Choso decided to live in the countryside, at least for the winter, you have long come to terms with it.

You will miss your mother, in your own way. Your father, not as much.

You arrive at the chapel. It is slightly more grand than the one that held your previous wedding, but you do not worry yourself about frivolities like that. You care about what is inside, and that is your soon to be husband and his family.

You step out, taking in the summer air. It smells fresher today. More alive.

Your family follows, and your mother gives you a small smile, heading inside. You wait outside with your father for the wedding march to start.

It feels almost like your last wedding. The sweaty palms, the uneasy tremors, the impending nervousness that never seems to fade. All for different reasons now than before. Now, they are trembles of excitement, not fear. The anticipation is nearly killing you. You just want to see Choso.

Your wish is swiftly granted.

The wedding march starts, and the doors open. You take a moment to adjust to the lighting when you walk in, but when you see him, the world stops.

He is truly stunning like this. Broad shoulders filling out his navy blue suit, tall and looking like he is about to break from the nerves of the day. His black cravat lays over his well tailored suit. He is positively mouth watering. He does not see you at first, looking over at all nine of his brothers in the pews.

He turns his head, though, and looks like he experiences the exact same moment you just went through. 

A smile pulls across his cheeks, small and goofy, like he cannot control his expression even if he tried. You return it, and the closer you walk to him, the more you just want to throw yourself into his arms and stay there forever. 

 Your father passes you off to Choso, immediately taking his seat after. Choso’s gaze on you does not break, not when you walked, not when your father passed you off, and not now. He takes his hands into your own, and runs his thumb over your knuckles, something you have come to discover is a calming mechanism for him.

“Hello.” He breathes, almost in disbelief.

You grin, giggling softly.

“Hi.” You say giddily.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” The priest begins.

There are a lot more people in attendance at this wedding. You did not notice before, your stare entirely on your soon to be husband. You spot many familiar faces. Your eyes land on the Prince, and he gives you a dramatic wave. Nanami grabs his arm from the air beside him, scolding him.

You grin, turning back to your fiance.

“You are perfect.” He mouths softly.

“I love you.” You say in return.

“I love you too.”

“I ask that people in the room do not speak unless spoken to.” The priest says, looking very pointedly at the two of you.

You bite your lip, leaning your face into Choso briefly to hide your giggles.

“We continue. Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the estate of holy matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I do.” Choso states without hesitation.

The priest turns to you.

“Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the estate of holy matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honour and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I do.” You repeat.

“By the joining of hands together, I now pronounce thee man and wife, in the name of the father, the son, and of the holy ghost. Amen.”

You finally, finally, get to lay your lips on his own.

The audience in attendance claps. You pull back against your better wishes, keeping the kiss short and sweet. The two of you walk down the aisle together, hand in hand.

You glance up at him the whole time, simply watching his facial features.

You trust that he will take you where you need to go.

—

Your wedding reception was… rowdy, to say the least. 

Definitely more out of control than the average reception. Choso’s nine brothers did not make it easy. You liked them. You finally got to meet the ones you hadn’t met before. Noranso, Sho-oso, Tanso, Sanso, Kotsuso, and Shoso were very excited to meet you, and they were much more outspoken than the brothers you have already met.

Choso says it has something to do with their father being gone now.

The prince was very adamant on getting everyone to drink as well. The liquor, combined with an already excited crowd, was a recipe for disaster.

You had finally managed to filter everyone out around eleven o’clock, Miwa giving you a solid hug and a knowing look before she left. The brothers all retreated to their rooms.

It left just you and Choso.

He held out a hand, leading you to your now shared bedroom. You realize that, until then, you have never actually seen Choso’s bedroom. It is very much him. 

You take a look around, and he closes the door behind you.

You can hear his footsteps move closer, and you do not move. You cannot bring your limbs to wake. You feel his presence behind you, strong and unyielding. With his hands on your hips, he places gentle kisses along your shoulder, leading up to the expanse of your neck. You sigh, leaning into the touch.

“I love you.” He murmurs into your neck.

“I love you too.” You whisper back.

He turns you around gently, making you face him. There is a look in his eye you have only seen twice before. Both times were in your bedroom.

You feel that familiar heat trickle up into your core. Your eyes flit between his gaze and his lips.

“Choso…” You breathe.

His name on your tongue spurs him into action, his lips pressing against your own. It is not like the previous times. It is slow, unhurried. Sensual. His hand rests on your lower back, and you sigh into his mouth. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. You undo his pigtails, his hair falling down over his neck. He pulls back, fingers tangled in your dress.

“May I?” He murmurs.

You nod, perhaps a little too eagerly. He pulls your dress over your head, and groans at the sight that awaits him.

You are residing in only your undergarments and a corset. Hina had insisted you forgo a chemise for convenience, leaving your breasts on full display for your husband. Your nipples peak in the cold air, your skin rippling in goosebumps from nerves. 

Choso hesitates before touching you, looking at you for a silent show of permission. You nod, and against your expectations, he lifts you. You squeal as he carries you over to the bed, and he laughs.

He basically throws you down, leaning over you and enrapturing you in a kiss. You wrap your limbs around him, desperate for more. He pulls back, leaning down the expanse of your body.

“I have been dreaming of this for ages.” He states huskily, placing kisses down your collarbones.

You whine, arching up into him. You call out his name once more, and he gives you what you want. He latches onto one of your breasts, suckling gently. Choso’s hand raises to give the other attention, rolling the bud in between his fingertips. You moan, throwing your head back. 

You feel dizzy. The sensations of everything happening for the first time are overwhelming, your body struggling to catch up.  He leans back, basically ripping off his cravat and undoing the buttons of his suit jacket. He pulls off his shirt as well, and your mouth waters at the sight of his bare chest, strong and broad. 

He picks you up, pushing you further up along the bed so your head rests on a pillow. He moves downwards, further down than you expected him to. You watch him curiously. He takes your undergarments off, sliding them down your thighs, exposing you to him. Embarrassed, you attempt to hide your face in your arms.

“Do not be shy, my love. You are perfect.” He says, his face disappearing between your legs.

Your corset is tight, so tight that when he breathes over your soaked cunt, you feel like you are going to pass out. Hina and Miwa gave you a lot of information, but they did not say anything about this. 

He nuzzles his face in between your lips, groaning at the sensation of you on his mouth. 

“So wet already, huh?” He murmurs.

You do not even know what that means. You tremble, propped up on your elbows to watch, despite every instinct in your body telling you to shy away from him. He places a kiss over a spot that makes you arch, gasping. He focuses his attention on the little bud at the top of your pussy, running over it with his tongue.

You are starting to realize now what the name for that heat in your core was. It was arousal. Arousal that is currently being sated by your lover in between your legs. 

They told you it would hurt, that your first time would be painful. All you can focus on and feel right now is the overwhelming pleasure that Choso is giving you. It feels like utter bliss.

“Choso!” You cry out, hips bucking.

He holds your hips down, allowing him full access to your pussy. He spreads your lips with his thumbs, licking stripes all the way up and down your slit. The tip of his tongue flicks across that little spot, and you feel tears coming to your eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He moans, savouring your taste.

You run your hands through his hair, gripping the strands by the roots. He wraps his lips around your little bud and sucks, and you let out a noise so debauched you could not even begin to describe it. When you are not looking, you feel a small pressure inside you. You peer downwards, and see that your husband has slipped a finger inside your waiting hole. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, eyes on yours.

You shake your head.

“No. It feels… feels good.” You confess shyly.

Chos lets out a small sigh of relief. He slips in another, carefully moving them in and out, curling them just so. You whine, wiggling your hips to meet his hand. The light, dim and yellow from the candles, illuminates your husband's back muscles. He looks beautiful like this, pliant and willing to do anything to please you. 

His mouth is parted as he watches your pussy take his fingers. He leans down to mouth at your bud, his lips soft against you. 

Your mind is reeling, trying to keep up. If it feels this way to only have his fingers in you, what is it going to be like when he puts his hardness inside? Your body trembles at the thought.

“You are doing so good for me, taking my fingers so well, my love.” He murmurs into your clitoris.

“Choso, I want more.” You plead.

He shushes you gently, kissing you on the cheek.

“Patience, darling. I do not want you to experience any discomfort. You must wait.” He tells you.

You grab his face, pulling him into a rough kiss. He groans into your mouth, and slips another finger into you. Your body shakes, tipping back and forth over a fine line between too much and not enough.

“I do not want to wait. I want you, now!” You argue.

He chuckles, kissing along the shell of your ear. 

“You just have to argue with me, don’t you?” He grins.

You frown, turning your face away from him stubbornly. With a sneaky curl of his fingers inside you, you throw your head back, gasping.

“You want me that bad, sweetheart?” He murmurs.

“Yes, please, I need it!” You beg.

You do not even know what you are really pleading for. You just want more of him, you need to be closer, to feel him inside you, whatever that may entail. 

He pulls his fingers out, sucking your juices off of them one by one. You watch carefully as he unbuttons his pants, kicking them off. He’s left just in his undergarments. Choso hesitates before taking them off.

“Are you sure?” He asks nervously.

You prop yourself up, pulling him into a sweet kiss. You reach down to pull down his undergarments yourself.

“I am sure.” You whisper into his mouth.

You pull them down completely, and you cannot control the way your mouth immediately drops when you look down.

It is big. Large and reddened with want, dripping with a clear liquid from the sticky tip that you want to lick clean. That is supposed to be inside you?

“I do not know if it is going to fit…” You murmur, eyes wide.

He chuckles, kissing you on the forehead. 

“We will take it slow.” He reassures, “That is, if you still want to.”

“How many times do I have to tell you-” You frown, wrapping your fingers around his cock.

He barely manages to stifle his groan, throwing his head back.

“-I need you.” You purr.

He looks down at you, eyes full of lust. He removes your hand, leaning you back onto the bed. 

“Another time.” He says.

He props your legs up, throwing them around his waist. Choso runs his tip through your folds, and you moan when it catches on your little bud. He pauses over your entrance, before pressing into your waiting hole. 

You gasp, eyes wide. He bites his lip, face falling into the crook of your shoulder. The first sting fades fast. It does not hurt, per se, but it feels… full. You feel full, the pressure from the stretch making you squirm. 

He slides the next few inches inside.

“Cho!” You whimper.

“I know, my love, I know.” He coos, running his fingers along your scalp.

He keeps going, and it feels like there is an endless supply of him, just more and more until you can barely take it. Both of you sigh in relief when his hips meet yours, fully flush against you. You take deep breaths, struggling with the feeling of him inside you. You swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“You feel that, darling?” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and holding it over your tummy. “That is me in there. You are doing so well, so good for me.”

You groan, tears threatening to escape from the overwhelming emotions flowing through you. 

He pulls out, ever so slowly, and presses himself back in. 

Choso starts with gentle thrusts, taking you slow and passionately. The pace allows you to feel every inch dragging along your sensitive walls. It is intoxicating, overcoming your every sense. All you can think about is your husband, thoughts of him bouncing around in your skull.

On a particular thrust, he presses in, causing a loud ‘squelch’. You keen, throwing your head back into the pillows.

“God, you are soaked, sweetheart. Look at this sloppy little thing.” He says, thumbing at where the two of you are connected.

You grip him by the roots of his hair, forcing his forehead to rest against your own. You look him dead in the eyes fiercely, fire behind them.

“More, Choso, I want more.” You breathe.

He nearly whimpers, nodding against your forehead. He adjusts his arms, and picks up the pacing of his thrusts. You cry out, finally getting what you have been craving.

It is deeper now, impossibly deep. His large hands grab your legs, pushing them up over your shoulders. You are pinned down now, completely at his mercy. There is nothing you can do but rake your fingers down his arms. 

Every long, deep thrust pulls out more noises from you, the soft ‘uhn, mmph’ sounds filling the air. He looks delectable like this, looming over you, hair framing his face, mouth parted and eyes squeezed shut. He is lost in it, completely wrapped up in the feeling of your tight hole sucking him in. 

The slap of his hips against your own is loud, the force in every thrust evident. His pubic hair brushes hard against your clit, the friction making your spine arch almost painfully.

“Choso, yes!” You gasp.

“Hah, s-so tight, god!” He breathes, fucking you deeper, harder.

His pace is unyielding, hard and fast, giving you his whole length with every push inside. He reaches down, roughly rubbing circles into your clitoris. You nearly scream, voice echoing into the room around you. 

You feel a knot in your lower stomach begin to form. It is tight, winding up further and further the more your husband rubs that hard bud at the top of your pussy. Something is happening. Something so scary, so overwhelming, that you grip at Choso’s arms.

“Cho, something… something is happening. I am-” You whimper, “I am scared!”

He kisses you, lips tangling with one another. He pulls back, placing kisses along your jawline.

“Do not be afraid, sweetheart. Just feel it, let it happen.” He pants, amber eyes memorizing every movement of your face.

With your husband’s comforting words, the knot finally snaps, your climax violently washing over you. Your vision goes white, body trembling uncontrollably. You can distantly hear the sounds being ripped from your throat, rough and raw. Your husband’s praises fall on deaf ears, your hearing completely lost from you.

His thrusts grow sloppy, his pacing slightly off. Moans fall freely from his lips, his head thrown back.

“Cumming, I am cumming, fuck-!” He grits out.

With a long, drawn out groan, his climax hits, and you preen at the feeling of his seed filling you up. It is warm, and you can feel some of it slipping out and dripping down your slit. You run your fingers along his back, allowing him to ride out his high for as long as he pleases. 

His cock softening, he pulls out, laying on the bed beside you. You roll over onto his chest, reveling in the sound of his heartbeat in your ears. You catch your breath, your world completely turned upside down.

“That was…” He begins, trailing off.

“Fantastic.” You finish. “Utterly perfect.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment before breaking out into giggles. He wraps his arm around you, holding your body close to him. The light illuminates your husband perfectly, lightly falling over his muscles and sharp features. You run a finger along the scar on his face. 

“Do you require water? I can call the maids.” He murmurs, rubbing your back.

You shake your head, laying back down on his chest.

“No. I am content to just lay like this for now.” You tell him. 

He nods. You ask him a question that has been nagging you for a little while now.

“Have you done this before?” You ask.

“Sex?”

You nod. He hums in thought.

“Why? Are you jealous?” He replies, amused.

You scoff, pushing at his chest. He laughs, pulling you back down.

“I jest. The answer is no, I have not.” He tells you honestly.

“Then how…” How did you know what to do? How did you do it so well? Thoughts run rampant through your mind.

Choso suddenly looks very, very embarrassed. He sighs.

“I tried to do research on how to make this the best possible experience for you, but there was not as much information on women’s pleasure as there is men's. So I found… other methods.” He confesses.

“Such as…?” You ask.

“... I spoke to some… ladies of the night. Asked them how best to please my wife during her first time. They helped me understand what to do and what to avoid. I paid them handsomely for their time, of course.” He tells you.

You stare at him. Really look at him. Choso, who you only were to marry less than a mere week ago, went through all this effort on figuring out how to please you. To make this experience the least bit painful as he possibly could.

You are not sure whether to laugh or to cry.

“Choso…”

His hand runs along the side of your face, caressing you gently.

“I only hope that you enjoyed yourself. That is all.” He says earnestly.

You resist the urge to sit up and smack him silly.

“I more than enjoyed myself, Choso. You need to give yourself more credit.” You tell him sternly.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling his chest. 

“I am glad.” He simply replies, “I did as well.”

You lift your leg up a little, looking at the sticky mess of seed in between your legs.

“I can tell.” You say.

He leans over, running his fingers in between your legs, nearly scooping up the seed. He pushes it back inside you, and you let out a quiet moan when his fingers fill you once more. He lays back down only once it is all pushed back in, satisfied.

“Do you think it will take?” You ask quietly.

“I do not know. I hope so.” He replies honestly.

You hum, snuggling further into him.

“You will be a good father.” You tell him.

He goes quiet at that. All you can hear from him is his gentle breathing with the rise and fall of his chest.

“Stop thinking.” You scold.

He makes a noise of acknowledgement.

“I… can only hope I will. Every day I have the fear that I will turn out like my father. It would kill me to hurt you the way my father hurt my mother. The same applies to our children.” He muses.

You look up at him, his face a conflicting swirl of emotions. Your hand finds his face, running along his cheek. He leans into your touch.

“You will not. I know because you are kind with a heart of gold, and a good man, Choso. You basically raised all the boys in this house right now. Even Yuuji, who you are raising right now. Every single one of them adores you. You are not your father. You never will be.” You say.

He kisses your hand, holding it closely. You can see all the emotions in his eyes threatening to boil over. Instead, he simply places a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you.”

You smile.

“I love you too.”

—

The first thing you think when you open your eyes is that it is extremely late. The second is a query on where your husband is if you have been in bed for so long. 

You ring the bell, calling the maids over.

Hina comes in first, ready to greet you.

“You slept in, my lady.” She says matter-of-factly.

“Why did you not wake me up, Hina?” You groan.

“Your husband insisted I let you rest, my dear. Blame him if you are to blame someone.” She says, amused.

Hina prepares you for the day, dressing you and doing your makeup. You wear navy blue, a common colour around the house as of late.

Walking down the halls, all the drapes are opened. Something you insisted on when you first started living here. We all need sun, you said. Choso never disagreed with anything you asked for, so you got your way.

This house is much different than the one in the Ton. The decor is still dark, but with more hues of purple and navy, much more welcoming than the other. You spend most of your time here now, along with your husband and the other brothers. You only return to the Ton for parties or for the start of the season, which is to be happening soon. 

You pass by all the packed bags, exiting into the backyard.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light. You hear the boys before you see them. Eso, Kechizu, and Yuuji are all in the backyard, arguing over a game of pall-mall. Yuuji waves his hands wildly as he complains, the three not even noticing your entrance. You shake your head. 

You then spot your husband, sitting under a tent, holding your daughter.

You smile at the sight at first. He sticks out his finger for your daughter to hold, and she chews on it, all gums. He looks down at her happily, not even looking at the scene in front of him. You then force a frown, remembering that you are supposed to be mad at him. He hears you coming, turning to look.

“My love.” He greets with a smile.

You ignore him, placing a kiss on your daughter’s forehead. She smiles widely when she sees you.

“You let me sleep.” You frown, crossing your arms.

He chuckles, gesturing to the spot beside him. You sit, facing towards the boys on the field.

“You needed it. The prince’s parties always take a lot out of you.” He says.

“You know I always want to spend as much time with you as possible.” You say, gesturing to him and your daughter. 

“I know, darling. Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?” He asks.

You hum, as if thinking about it deeply.

“Perhaps.”

“And what will I have to do to earn your favour back once more?” He questions with an amused smirk.

“You can dance with me.” You say cheekily.

“You did not do enough dancing last night?” He laughs.

“No. Never enough. Not with you.” You tell him.

He stands, and you follow. Still holding your daughter, he sways back and forth, and you match his movements, wrapping your arms around them. Your movements cause your daughter to slowly doze off, and you chuckle. 

“You are glowing.” Choso murmurs.

You look back up to find him staring so earnestly it almost frightens you.

“Shut up.” You murmur, embarrassed.

He laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You know, we never did dance last season.” Choso points out.

You hum, swaying with your husband. 

Yuuji calls out for you, and you turn and wave at him.

“We have the rest of our lives to dance together. I am not worried.” You say.

He smiles, pulling you into a deep kiss. 

Yes, this, you think, is bliss.

—

-Miss Miwa and Mister Muta were not the only couple to welcome a child in the off season. The Duke Kamo and his Duchess welcomed a daughter in early May. A much deserved happy ending for the couple indeed after their rocky start. Keep an eye on those Kamos, eligible ladies. Allegedly, they are quite the romantics.

This author sees much gossip approaching upon us in the upcoming season. Rest assured, if it happens, it will be reported here.

Yours sincerely, 

Lady Whistledown.

—

Kugisaki puts down her pen, sighing with relief at the end of the most recent issue.

Her parents like to stay in the Ton for the winter, the boredom seeping into her very bones. With the arrival of the newest season, the gossip is bound to be back, and Lady Whistledown will finally be able to return.

She is interested to see the Kamos come back this season.

Surely they will have much insight indeed.

════════════════════

a/n: i pay 50 dollars for a blindbox imagine my face when i pull geto... thanks for following along with my fic u little freaks love yall

It is the only explanation for how he manages to find you every time. You are fast with your footsteps, efficient in your movements. It would be enough to shake off any aggressor. Not him. Never him. 

You try to resist the urge to pant, adrenaline carrying you only so far. Your endurance begins to waver. You keep pushing. The second you falter, he finds you. It’s never good when he finds you. 

You push off trees that you pass to gain speed. It’s so dark that you can barely see, your eyes strain to catch up with the landscape that passes by. Multiple times, you’ve nearly ran headfirst into a tree. The moon is your only saviour, a guide in the dark forest. 

With every rustling of the trees above you, you wonder if it is him. If he has found you.

Distantly, you hear his laugh. It’s pure evil, and dripping with unbridled joy. He loves this game. It’s cat and mouse, predator and prey. The hunter and the hunted.

You wonder what it will be this time. Perhaps your scent, maybe your breathing, or even the footsteps that no doubt trail behind you. He can notice things like that, with his inhuman senses. It is futile, really. You have never made it to the edge of the forest, and you doubt you ever will. Once, only once, you made it close. You paid the price.

You’re so lost in thought that you do not see the root of a tree sticking out of the ground, shrouded in darkness. 

The resulting fall is graceless, your body hitting the ground with a large ‘thump’. Fallen leaves scatter around you, and you desperately scramble to get up. You’re stopped by a large weight on your back, pressing you into the ground.

You know what it is.

“Hello, little mouse.” 

You can hear the grin in his voice, evident as day and night. You whimper pathetically, wiggling underneath him. He has you pinned with one knee on your back, and you have yet to raise your head to try to look at him. Why bother, anyways? 

“Sukuna… let me go.” You attempt to plead with him.

He laughs, loud and booming. Shame seeps into your core, the humiliation settling in.

“Let you go? No, I don’t think so. Not after what you just pulled.” He sneers.

You try to wiggle some more, to ease the pressure on your spine. He doesn’t budge. 

“You really think you can get away from me? I didn’t realize you were so fucking stupid.” He laughs, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said.

Your hand snakes downwards.

You were prepared this time. Before you left, you strapped a dagger to your leg. You knew he would always find you, but maybe this time, you can create some distance. Perhaps you can even free yourself. 

You pull the dagger out of its holster, jamming it directly into his thigh. Surprised, he grunts in pain, and the pressure on your back eases only slightly.

It’s enough.

You push yourself free, stumbling and breaking out into a full sprint. 

“You fucking brat!” He screams after you.

You can hear the vitriol dripping out of every word. If you didn’t sign your death wish before, you surely have now. Sukuna is prideful, rageful, and everything in between. He does not take kindly to being injured, especially by someone he deems as weaker than him. 

He does not hide his movements this time. You can hear him jumping through the trees, chasing after you.

You’re so close, so close to the edge of the forest. You recognize the tree on the left, fallen and with odd branches sticking out at certain angles. You’ve only seen it once before, but you’d recognize it anywhere.

You push harder, ignoring the burning in your lungs, the violent ache in your legs. You’re almost there. You’re almost free.

You see the edge of the forest, the field right before the village illuminated by the moon above you. It glows like a halo, holy and all forgiving. It looks like hope. 

Hope that’s immediately crushed.

The second you bound over the edge of the forest, a hand grabs your robe, pulling you back in. He lifts you in the air for the briefest moment, the raw display of strength taking your breath away.

Sukuna forces your face into the dirt, and you choke out a gasp at the impact.

He leans down, whispering in your ear.

“Where do you think you’re going, running to the edge of the forest like that?” 

His voice is low, without a hint of mockery. It’s how you know he’s serious, that you’ve really fucked up this time. 

You begin to tremble, forcing the tears to start welling up. 

“I-I am sorry, my lord-” You start.

“Don’t pull that fucking act with me.” He murmurs dangerously. “Calling me your lordship only after you’ve fucked up beyond repair. You piss me off.”

“Fuck you! I don’t owe you shit.” You bite back.

“There she is.” He chuckles darkly.

In a final attempt to free yourself, you bite his hand resting beside your head hard enough to draw blood. You wiggle away, only for him to push you back down.

He rips the robe off your body, the force of his grip leaving it in tatters. Your bare body is on display underneath, the cool air of the night tickling your most sensitive spots.

“Fuck you, you fucking asshole! I fucking hate you-”

You hear the rustling of clothes behind you, and you feel the pressing of something at your entrance. You bite him again, and he ignores it, holding you down.

“Sukuna, you dick, don’t you fucking dare-”

“Open up.” He grins.

He presses his already leaking cock inside you, and you gasp at the sheer size of him. He’s big, stretching you open as far as you can possibly go. You whine, face still pressed into the dirt.

“Look at this slutty pussy, already fucking soaked. I knew you liked the hunt just as much as me, you fucking freak.” He laughs, large hand gripping your hair.

“No I don’t, you psychopath!” You grit out.

He pulls out, pushing back in and creating a loud ‘squelch!’ that makes you burn with embarrassment.

“Really? What’s that, then?” He mocks.

It’s humiliating. He’s pushing you into the ground, your ass in the air, breeding you like a dog. It should be embarrassing, your dignity being ripped away piece by piece.

Instead, you feel yourself get wetter at the thought.

“Thaaat’s it, let me in. Take my fucking cock.” He groans, feeling the fluttering of your walls.

He begins to fuck you roughly, giving you no time for adjustment. You gasp, breath caught in your throat. All that can be heard echoing through the forest is the wet slap of Sukuna’s hips on your own.

His cock is deep like this. So impossibly deep that you can feel his tip hitting your cervix on every thrust. He smacks your ass with his free hand, the sting amplifying the nerves that are alight.

His body cages you in, his hips rutting into you. You can feel every ridge and vein of his cock in your sensitive walls. You grip the dirt in front of you, attempting to crawl away from the brutal, deep thrusts he’s giving you.

He grips you by the hips, pulling you back.

“Don’t even try it. Just lay there and take it.” He spits.

You groan, fingers still intertwined in the ground, trying to find some semblance of support. 

“Fuck, this pussy was made for me. I’ve claimed this shit, you hear me? It’s mine. Say it, tell me who this cunt belongs to.” He grits out.

Whimpering, you tilt your head up just enough to speak.

“F-fuck you.” You cry out.

He laughs, light and airy. 

“I am, little mouse.”

The backshots he’s giving are deadly, and your eyes roll all the way back when his balls slap against your neglected clit. All you can do is moan while he fucks your pussy like his own personal toy. A human fleshlight.

You look back at him. His robes drape off his shoulders, the muscles of his four arms on full display. His pink hair gently sways with the wind. If he weren’t fucking you so ferally, you might think he was beautiful. 

You watch, in abject horror, as the mouth on his stomach opens. The tongue lolls out, slobbering as it moves. You begin to shake as it moves closer and closer to your other hole.

“Sukuna-” You warn, heart racing.

“Relax, little one. Just enjoy it.” He grins.

The tongue licks over the expanse of your asshole, and your whole body twitches. It’s warm and wet, laving over your puckered hole. Sukuna spreads your cheeks further apart, giving him more access. The tongue dips inside shallowly, and you nearly scream at the feeling of both holes being filled.

His claws dig into the skin of your hips, blood trickling down your thighs. Sukuna throws his head back, lost in the feeling of your cunt gripping him tightly.

“Fuck, I’m going to breed this little pussy.” He spits.

You moan loudly, and he chuckles breathlessly.

“You like the sound of that? I knew you would, you little slut. I’m going to fill up this tight little hole with my seed, and you’re going to take it like my good girl, understand?” 

You nod into the ground, tears and drool slipping down your cheek. Against your better judgement, you feel the knot inside your core tightening. You feel the impending release coming, and it’s coming hard.

You cry out his name repeatedly, speaking it like a prayer.

“Sukuna, S-Sukuna, Sukuna!” You call out, gasping for air.

“Tell all of them who you belong to, tell them who your master is!” He groans, leaning down to the shell of your ear, “You’re mine, you fucking hear me?”

“Yours, I’m yours, Sukuna!” 

Your release builds and builds, and it finally snaps. With a drawn out wail, you cum all over his cock, squirting your release over his stomach and thighs. He moans at the convulsion of your walls, thrusts growing sloppy and uneven. With a pained grunt, he cums inside you, filling you to the brim with his virile seed.

You pant, attempting to catch your breath. The force of your orgasm has you trembling, body twitching underneath Sukuna. He lifts you by your hair, moving your face in front of his still hard cock.

“Clean me off.” He commands.

You open your mouth, and he slips his cock inside. You suckle on him gently, licking off your mixed juices. He hums contentedly, watching you closely. You pull back, staring up at him with watery eyes. 

His gaze softens.

“Are you alright?” He murmurs.

You nod, a small hiccup leaving your throat. He lifts your naked body into his arms, stroking the top of your head. 

“You need to tell me with words.” He tells you.

“I… I’m okay.” You say, swallowing roughly.

“Good.” He says sternly.

“Sukuna?” You call out, voice small.

He looks down at you questioningly.

“That was fucking insane. We have to keep doing this.”

══════════════════════

“Where are we going, my lord?” You ask.

You have been in the carriage for a while now, over a half hour. The scenery outside is just plush greenery, beyond the Ton at this point.

“I should like to keep it a secret until we are there.” He replies.

You hum, going back to staring outside.

The duke is watching you, as if he can sense something is off. He probably does. He is awfully perceptive like that.

He does not speak on his suspicions.

“It is beautiful outside the Ton, is it not?” He says.

You hum once more.

“It is.” 

“I would like to move out here soon. It is peaceful. Quiet.”

“I take it you would enjoy the solitude.” You tell him.

“Indeed. I… sometimes tolerate the men I work with, with a heavy emphasis on the prince, but I find that out here is where all the good happens. No prying eyes, no gossip. Just peace. However, being in the Ton right now is best for business.” He states.

You nod, suddenly looking out the window to notice a building coming up.

“Is that where we are going?” You ask curiously.

He peeks his head out to see where you are looking, and smiles.

“Indeed.”

The carriage slowly pulls up to the building. The duke exits first when it stops, holding open the door for you. He offers you a hand. You take it, feeling the warmth of his skin through your gloves. You continue to hold your hand in his own, even after the door is closed.

He pauses, glancing down to where your hands are meeting. He does not move to pull away, though. He simply runs his thumb along your gloved hand. 

You pull away first.

“Where are we?” You ask, looking straight ahead.

He clears his throat.

“It is a school.”

You turn to him, mildly confused.

“A… school?” 

He elaborates as the two of you walk closer to the building.

“An orphanage. A mix of the two, more specifically. I had it built a few months before my father died. He was a pretentious bastard, to be frank. He always thought that education should be reserved for a select few. I happen to think that education should be available to anyone who should want it.” 

“So there are children here?”

“Yes. They are taught and raised by teachers who I personally selected for the job.”

The double doors open, and you walk inside.

“The children here… most of them had no home to return to, no parents to care for them. Others are from lower income families who come here every day to learn for a very low fee. There is no school in the Ton for children like that. We provide the transportation for them, of course.” He says, explaining further.

You look around in awe, admiring the space around you. Children run by your feet, happy voices raised, followed by teachers who give you a smile and a small bow as they pass. 

“It looks like it is their outdoor time.” He states, amused.

“Duke Kamo!” A woman’s voice says. 

She approaches, an older woman with greying hair and a tight collared shirt under her dress. Her approach is warm, welcoming.

“Headmistress.” He replies, giving her a small bow.

You bow as well, and she laughs.

“I told you to stop bowing, my lord. Please, come with me. We will do the walking tour.” She says, gesturing to follow.

You interlock your arm with the duke’s. He does not flinch. As if it is almost natural for your arm to be there.

“I see you brought a friend this time, my lord.” She states, looking back at the two of you.

“Oh! I apologize for my rudeness, my lady.” You say, followed by introducing yourself.

She hums, smiling softly.

“I did not realize the duke had friends. And such pretty ones, at that.” She teases, amused.

“Get on with the tour.”

His words are spoken harshly, but you can see the way his ears flush red with embarrassment. The headmistress laughs at him, shaking her head. 

“The children are doing remarkably well, increasingly so since the last time you visited. We have been integrated more outside learning, and it seems to be helping rather than being in the classroom all day.” She says.

He nods, taking a look around at the state of the building.

“That is good to hear. And the funding is enough?” He asks.

“More than enough, my lord. Thank you for your generosity. These children really need it.” She replies earnestly.

“And the deliveries? Food, school supplies, it is all arriving as scheduled?”

You are still sort of reeling from the situation. This is not what you had expected for the day, and you did not even know that this was a part of the duke’s life. It makes you wonder what else you do not know, what you have yet to discover about him.

Their chatter falls distant as you look into the surroundings. The building is well taken care of, clean and put together despite having children run through the halls daily. The teachers in their classroom teach basic mathematics, writing, and reading as you pass by. There are children of all different ages, some appearing as young as five, some as old as thirteen. 

The three of you walk through the kitchen, watching as the cooks make the lunches for the children. You pass by the dining hall, walking through a pair of double doors that lead outside.

“Do the children here get adopted?” You whisper to the duke.

“Occasionally. Not as often as I would like, however. These children deserve a forever family.” He whispers back.

You approach a class who appears to be learning about science outside. Their teacher greets you.

“Children! Say hello to the duke!” The teacher says.

A chorus of ‘hello, duke’ is heard, which makes you chuckle. He goes over to inspect what the children are looking at, and you stay behind with the headmistress.

“He is rather generous.” You tell her.

“Indeed. He is a good man. You are lucky to have each other.” She says.

Your face grows hot, and you quickly go to correct her.

“It is not like that, we are just… friends. Most of the time. Regardless, I am engaged.” You state, embarrassed.

She chuckles unbelievingly.

“Happily engaged? Well, congratulations, then.”

“Not quite happily, but… he makes it easier.” You confess quietly, staring out towards the duke.

He is speaking with the children, excitedly telling them about plants and how they feed from the sun. They listen intently, asking questions over each other louder and louder. He answers each and every one, not leaving any of the children behind. He laughs at something one of the children says, ruffling her hair. It gives you butterflies in your stomach.

He would be a good father, you realize. 

A good father to someone else’s children.

Your chest squeezes tight. Your corset suddenly feels ten sizes too small, and you place a hand over your chest, attempting to regulate your breathing. You feel dizzy, almost nauseous at the thought. What the hell has gotten into you?

“Are you quite alright, my lady?” The headmistress asks, concerned.

“Yes, I am fine, I just feel really hot all of a sudden.” You tell her.

“Let me go get you some water. I will return shortly.” She swiftly takes off inside.

Your heart is still pounding in your ears.

You come to a realization then that should have been made a long time ago.

All the bickering, all the laughs, all the tears, the tension, it has all accumulated to this one moment. You do not want him to get married, to have children. To grow old with someone, to live every moment in the presence of a woman by his side. You loathe the idea of someone else being able to see him like this, for him to be vulnerable with another.

All because you want him for yourself.

It is a realization so frightening that your hands begin to tremble. You want him. It has never been Lord Geto, not once. It has always been Choso. From the first moment you met, he consumed your very being, till there was nothing left but him inside your heart. You want him. You want him.

You are in love with the duke. So hopelessly and devastatingly infatuated with him.

And you can never have him.

The headmistress returns with water, urging you to sit down. You do, the sounds around you fading into nothing. You can only hear one phrase rattling around in your head. 

You love him.

Choso kneels in front of you, his concerned face coming into view. He says your name once, twice, until you come to. He holds your hand, caressing it gently. 

“Are you alright?” He murmurs, worried. 

His eyes are so earnest. Genuine. It makes you tear up for a moment, but you force the tears down, unwilling to ruin this moment for him.

“I am just warm from the summer heat. I apologize.” You tell him.

“Do not be sorry. I am done here anyways. I have checked in on everything I needed to. Let us go home.” He says softly. 

You nod, biting your bottom lip to stop the words you really want to say from slipping out. 

The carriage ride is quiet. With your recent discovery, it hurts too much to speak to him knowing you’ll never see him again. You stare out the window distantly, feeling like your mind is disconnected from your body. You listen to the rattling of the carriage as the horse pulls it forward.

“Tell me what is wrong.” He suddenly says.

You glance at him.

“Nothing is wrong, my lord.” You reply.

He scoffs.

“You know that is not true. You have been distant the entire day. Tell me what plagues you.” He states.

You go quiet, staring at the way the trees blow in the wind. The window is opened, allowing some of the breeze inside, and it tickles your face when it passes.

“I am to be married in two days.” You say bluntly.

His face drops.

“What?” 

“This will be the last time I ever see you, my lord.” You state, voice steady.

He stares at you, stunned. His mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say.

“Why… what- I thought Lady Whistledown posted about the rumours about him in her paper? Was that not enough to sway your parents?” He asks.

You laugh humourlessly, thinking about the conversation you had with your parents a few days prior.

“No, I am afraid not.” You simply say.

“So what, that is it, then? You will not fight it? You are just going to accept being married to that bastard?!” He exclaims.

“It does not matter, regardless. I have accepted my fate. I will be married off to Lord Geto. Perhaps if I am lucky, I will not have to bear too many of his children. He looks like he has a big head. That is, if he does not kill me first.” You muse. 

“You think this is humorous?!” He yells, livid.

“No, I do not! You think I am not taking this seriously, Choso? I have fought, with all my might, to be out of this. I had a conversation mere days ago where I confessed that he dishonoured me. Now if I do not marry him, my father will disown me forever, leaving me houseless and penniless.” You shout back.

“You can still fight! There is hope!”

“Give up, Choso. It is over.” You whisper. 

“I will tell them that I dishonoured you first.” He says, voice shaking.

You pause. You truly look at him, maybe for the first time this entire conversation. He looks disheveled, distraught. Worked up over an issue that is not relevant to him in any way. Before, you would have perhaps listened to his words, taken that little piece of hope for yourself. Now, it just makes you sad when you think of your mother’s words from the prior day.

“And what will we gain from that, exactly?” You ask.

“I… we…” He stammers.

“Exactly. They would not believe you, and even if they did, they would force you to marry me. We both know that you do not want to marry me, and that you want nothing from me. It would do nothing but cause us pain for the rest of time. Spare me.” You tell him detachedly.

The carriage stops in front of your estate, and you open the door, leaving without a second glance. Your feet hit the cobblestone, and you say your final words to him.

“Goodbye, Choso.”

He does not reply before the carriage door swings shut. It will be easier this way, you tell yourself. Easier for who, you do not know.

—

You stand in the middle of the church, staring up at the intricate stained glass. It is Mary, mother of god. She looks rather beautiful like this, surrounded by blue and red and yellow stained fixtures. The church itself is quite pretty. You wish you were here under better circumstances.

“My lady, does the aisle satisfy you?” Someone asks.

You turn, staring at the aisle that separates the pews. 

It is adorned with white ribbons, decorated in red and white flowers. There are flower petals on the ground as well. It is… not very you. It screams like your mother, loud and obnoxious. To many, red symbolizes love and passion. To you, it is just… gaudy.

“It is lovely.” You say simply. 

The person nods, getting back to work.

You stare at your mother and the priest speaking hushed about something, likely to do with your husband to be. You look away.

“Are you excited, my lovely bride?”

You do not face him as he approaches, still looking up at the stained glass window.

“You are in an awfully cheery mood today, Lord Geto.” You somberly state.

He smiles. It looks the same as the ones he first gave you all the way back then. Surrounded by people of the Ton, dancing and laughing, his smile charming and sweeping you off your feet. All you can feel towards him now is a faint sense of disdain, overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of nothingness.

“Well, it is my wedding tomorrow, is it not? That in itself is reason for celebration.” Lord Geto chirps.

“Your wedding.” You murmur.

“Indeed. I do not doubt you will make a beautiful bride. Perhaps we have gotten off on the wrong foot lately. I am sure that once we marry, it will be just like when we first met.”

“And what was that, my lord?”

“Amicable.”

Amicable. How funny to think you could ever be on good terms with Lord Geto. Even neutral terms are pushing it far. Who knows, maybe he will break you sooner or later. He has the rest of your lives to do it.

“We will see.” You say. 

“You yourself are in a rather non-combative mood. Perhaps you are finally realizing that we are indeed a good match?” He asks.

You know even he does not believe his own words.

“Something like that.” You reply.

He rolls his eyes.

“When did you become so dull? What happened to that girl with fire?” He teases cruelly.

“You finally got what you wanted, Lord Geto. Be happy about it.” You simply respond. 

He laughs, loud and echoing through the church.

“Oh, trust me, I am. I cannot tease you a little along the way?” He asks with a sly grin.

You stare at him, devoid of any emotion.

“Do as you wish.” 

He smiles.

“I will, especially now that the Kamos will no longer be in the picture. That goes for any of your other wretched friends as well. Did you say your goodbyes?” He questions with mock concern.

“I did.”

That seems to surprise him, and his grin falters slightly.

At least you can still catch him off guard.

The bell atop the church rings, signalling the mid afternoon. You feel it rattle your body, and you stare back up at the stained glass.

It is truly fascinating.

—

“You are usually in a good mood when you come back from the school, brother. Instead, over the past two days, you have been acting like a priss. Mind explaining yourself?” 

The tea room is quiet despite the presence of Choso and Eso. Choso chooses to ignore Eso’s words, continuing to read the book in his hands. 

“You cannot ignore me forever, brother.” 

Choso groans, slamming his book shut.

“What do you want?” He snaps.

Eso pauses. Choso sighs.

“I apologize, Eso. I did not mean to snap at you.” Choso relents.

Eso hums, leaning back in his chair.

“I cannot help if you do not tell me what the matter is. We are brothers, remember? Just because you are older does not make you immune to requiring help from us.” 

Choso thinks about Eso’s words, sitting with his head in his hands.

“She is marrying him today.” He mutters.

“Today?!”

“Yes, today. And I hate it. I hate everything about their union. It makes me so angry. I cannot go to the wedding, but even if I wanted to, I have been barred from attending.” He confesses.

“Hold on, why did you not mention this sooner?” Eso gawks.

“Because I did not know what to say.” Choso honestly replies.

Eso knows deep down that this is a now or never moment. He takes a deep breath.

“Brother. Why are you so angry about their union?” Eso asks.

Choso looks at him like he has grown a second head.

“Eso, he is a freak. He is cruel, vindictive, and only wants to hurt her. I do not want to see her hurt more than he has already done.” 

“Did something happen that I should be aware of?” He questions.

Choso, frustrated, rubs the space in between his eyebrows.

“He dishonoured her. By force.”

Eso exhales through his nose. 

“Bastard.” He murmurs.

“Indeed. Now that she told her parents, she is being forced to marry him.” Choso says angrily.

“Well… brother… you did dishonour her first, did you not?” Eso questions.

Choso leans back in his chair, running a hand over his face.

“I told her as much. She did not want to listen to me. She simply said that I did not want to marry her, so it did not matter.” He sighs.

“... Do you?” Eso asks.

“Do I what?”

“Want to marry her.” 

Choso pauses. He opens his mouth to say the first thing that comes to his mind, which is no, he does not. The words get caught in his throat.

He thinks about the statement you made. About bearing Geto’s children. It makes him sick to think that you’ll be carrying his children. He hates Geto. Hates everything he represents. He hates how he treats you, how he carries himself like he is a god in human flesh. Loathes his stupid fucking sly smile.

But more than that, he thinks about you. He thinks about your kindness, your intelligence, your compassion. Your love for his brothers, your selflessness. Your beautiful smile, your stupidly perfect face. Your love for art, your curiosity, your desire to learn more. He thinks about how you felt in his arms that fateful night that he took your lips on his own, the feeling of your skin on his. 

And it makes him ill to think that you would belong to anyone but him.

“Yes.” He whispers, finally confessing what he knows he’s felt all along.

“I dream of her every night, Eso. She haunts me every moment of the day, whether I am awake or not. I want her. God, I want her so bad it physically pains me. I think that maybe from the moment I met her, I have always been hers.”

“Then what are you going to do about it, brother?” Eso asks sternly.

Choso realizes then that he can still do something about this. He can end this, right there, right now. No matter how you feel about him, he can at least try. Even if you do not love him, he would do anything to free you from the torment of Geto, despite the fact that it would be a marriage where he would always pine for you till the end of time.

He has to try.

—

Hina does your makeup, swiping some rouge across your cheek. 

She uses some beeswax on your eyelashes to darken them, and some black liner along the edge of your eye. She finishes it off with powdering you down, and she steps back to observe her work. 

“Beautiful as always, my dear.” Hina says.

You force a smile, looking down at the options for jewelry. You decide on sapphires. 

Something blue. For him.

You have not seen Choso since that day, and perhaps it is for the best. You do not think you could bear to say goodbye once more, the grief would surely kill you. It is fine this way. You will leave the Kamos a memory in your brain to hold onto forever. The one thing that is yours to keep.

You stand from your chair, and observe the wedding dress hanging in the corner. It is frilly, overstated and severely outdated. Something utterly and completely void of any of your personality. Your mother hand picked every decision for it, the modiste giving you a pitiful glance the whole time. 

Hina plucks it off the rack, pulling it over your head. You settle into it, feeling rather uncomfortable with the itchy fabric.

A knock rings out, your mother entering. 

“Are you ready, my dear?” She asks.

You nod. You cannot speak. You fear that if you do, only sobs will come out.

You follow her downstairs, the carriage waiting for you outside. You do not spare a glance at the Kamo estate before you depart. A reminder of what you will never have is too much to bear.

The ride is quiet. Your parents sit across from you, and they do not speak to you. It is fine. You had no interest in conversation anyways. You merely peer out the window, watching the people of the Ton go about their day. 

Once you arrive at the church, the priest meets you outside to talk about some of the protocols. Your mother waits inside. The priest re-enters the building when he finishes speaking, no doubt going to his waiting spot at the end of the aisle. 

You link your arm with your fathers. You do not speak.

You can hear the wedding march from inside. Your heart starts to beat faster, harder, like a violent thumping in your chest. It is painful. Your fingers tremble. You clench your hands to make it go away.

The doors open, and you are faced with the smallest wedding crowd you have possibly ever seen.

Most weddings have at least a few rows of pews filled with people in attendance. In total, there are maybe three people in attendance. Your mother, an aunt, and a distant cousin. None of your friends or favourite relatives, the Earl refusing to let them attend.

Your eyes tear up, and for all the wrong reasons. The walk to the altar feels like a march to your demise. You want to pull away from your father, to run away forever. To leave this awful place.

Alas, you must face your fate.

Lord Geto awaits you at the altar. Smug, sly, and everything you hate in human form. He smiles at you. You do not return it. 

Your father passes you off to Lord Geto, not at all looking pleased to do so, but clearly not hateful enough to prevent you from marrying him in the first place. You hold hands with him, resisting the urge to rip your hands away. Your lip curls in disgust.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.” The priest begins.

All the words fall into the background of the fuzziness in your mind.

This is it. Everything you have fought for accumulated to this one very moment. It is officially over. Your life will no longer be your own, and you will be moved to the countryside like cattle, possibly never to be seen again. You would say that it could be worse, that you could be dead, but even death would be a more merciful fate than this. 

“-I do.” Lord Geto says.

The priest turns to you then. 

“Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the estate of holy matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honour and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

You stare at the man in front of you. He looks victorious. Like he won the game only he has been playing. Perhaps he has. 

You look back at the priest.

“I d-”

“Stop!”

The doors to the church slam open, and everyone in the room jumps at the impact. You turn to the source of the noise, and your heart positively flutters at the sight.

The duke, Choso, is here.

“My lord, what are you-” The priest begins.

“Stop this wedding at once!” Choso angrily states, walking up the aisle.

“What the hell?!” Lord Geto spits.

“Choso…” You whisper.

He stops halfway up, as if he is scared to move any closer. 

“I would not be able to live with myself if I did not at least try to tell you my thoughts before… before any of this.” He says, voice breaking.

You pull your hands from Geto’s, turning towards Choso. Hope, so small and miniscule, bubbles up in your chest.

“Yes?” You say, trembling.

“Hold on-”

“I do not want you to be married. I loathe the thought of it. At the beginning, when we still hated each other, I thought maybe it was because I was jealous. Then, it was that I hated who you were interested in. The reality is, after all this time, I could not stand that anyone but me would be by your side.”

Your eyes widen.

“I do not know when it happened, but I have fallen so deeply in love with you that it frightens me. Ever since I met you, you have consumed my very being. I need you. I wish to not breathe air unless you are sharing it with me. I wish to not experience life unless you are by my side during it. I just want you. Nothing more, nothing less. Just you.”

Your mouth parts, words unable to even form on your tongue. The room is deathly silent, your breathing the only thing you can hear.

“Choso…”

“I am in love with you. Marry me instead.” Choso says, holding out a hand.

You laugh suddenly, tears escaping your eyes. 

You do not answer him. You run away from the altar, ignoring the calls from your parents and Lord Geto. Grabbing Choso’s hand, you pull him with you, running out of the church doors.

The two of you run side by side down the street, laughing the whole way. The wind blows around you, and for the first time in your life, you feel lighter than air. Your veil trails behind you while you run, flowing in the wind. When you run far enough for them to not be able to find you, you stop, chest heaving.

Choso gazes at you like nothing else matters.

“I-”

“I love you, Choso.” You breathe.

He stops, staring at you in disbelief. As if he never expected for you to return his feelings. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer.

“You do?” He repeats.

“Yes! Yes, I do. God, I am in love with you. I think I always have been.” You laugh tearfully.

He pulls you into a kiss.

It is rushed and messy, making up for lost time. You grab his face, pulling him impossibly close. Your noses smush together, foreheads bumping. You run your fingers through the base of his pigtails, along the back of his neck, his arms, anything you can reach. 

It is not perfect, but that is what makes it so you.

He pulls back, the widest smile you have ever seen on him stretched across his face. He murmurs your name, cupping your cheek. You lean into the touch, feeling your own smile exhausting your cheeks.

“Marry me, my love. I promise, every single day of your life you will never be left wanting. You will be cherished for the rest of our lives together. I love you, marry me.” He says breathlessly.

You pull him into another short kiss. 

“I will marry you, Choso Kamo.” You grin. 

For the first time in a long time, you feel perfectly content.

════════════════════

a/n: ONE MORE CHAPTER ONE MORE

Her face scrunches up, discomfort obvious. It is only for a moment, but it is enough.

“Hina. Something else is going on, is there not?” He prods.

She pauses, looking over her shoulder to see if there is anyone around to listen. When she deems it safe, she turns back around.

“Humbly, I must ask for your help, my lord. The lady is… depressed.” She whispers the last part.

“Depressed?” He asks.

“Indeed. She will not eat, she will not leave her bed, not even to bathe. It is almost like she ceased to exist any longer. I have tried to help her, but she does not want it.” Hina says mournfully.

Choso stares at her for a moment, confused. How could this happen? Days prior you were gleefully looking forward to the future. What caused this sudden change? Questions run rampant through his head, and he struggles to make sense of any of it.

“How did this happen? What caused it?” Choso asks, trying to find a solution.

Hina’s lips make a fine line.

“Hina. What happened?” He repeats.

“It is not my place to say. As far as I know, I am the only other person who knows what happened. You must speak to the lady herself to understand.”

Worry. That is the main and first emotion that Choso can place. He nods thoughtfully.

“Alright. Take me to her.” He says seriously.

“You will have to be very quiet, my lord. Her parents have forbidden you from entering, but I will take you.” She murmurs.

He gestures for her to walk, and she does. The pair walk quietly, footsteps barely audible in the echo of the hallway. The closer he gets, the more uneasy he feels. The more worried he gets.

“Hina! Is that you, dear?” Your mother’s voice calls out.

Your maid quickly glances behind him, and turns to Choso frantically.

“Go. I will distract her mother. I trust you know how to get there?” She asks.

He nods, and the two separate, going in opposite directions.

He has the way to your room memorized at this point. He has dreamt of the situations that happened there so many times that the route is ingrained in his brain. A left, a right, and then the first door on the left.

He pauses before opening the door. Should he knock? Footsteps approaching him make the decision for him, and he enters the room.

It is where he finds you, sitting like a lump under your covers.

—

Nothing.

It is all you have felt for days. Pure and utter nothingness.

You have barely left your bed, only getting up to use the bathroom. You cannot find the motivation to do anything else. Anything that once brought you joy now just fills you with dread. Your room is safe. Nothing can touch you there.

So you hide under the covers, staring out the window. It is all you fill your day with, from morning to night. 

One evening, your mother enters.

You can tell it is her from the way her heels clack off the marble. She sits beside you, creating a divot in the bedsheets. She sits in silence for a moment. You do not greet her.

“Lady Whistledown arrived this morning.” She says simply.

You know what that means. Miwa has certainly done her job, and she did it well. It took a mere few days for Whistledown to catch onto the rumours Miwa spread about Lord Geto.

You cannot even think of his name without feeling nauseous.

You continue to lay in silence.

She sighs, placing a hand over the sheets that drape over your form.

“I am sorry. For the way things have turned out. It is not easy to be faced with such scandal from the Ton.” 

Your eyes flick to her for a moment, and you are genuinely surprised to see that she seems completely genuine. No mockery, no power trip, just empathy.

You nod, looking back towards the window.

“It is time to get out of bed, dear. You must face this eventually. People are beginning to talk.” She states.

You snort softly, realizing what this is truly about. Reputation. The more you appear unbothered, the less people will talk. If only she knew what you were really avoiding.

When you continue your silent solitude, she says nothing. She merely stands up, walking out the door and closing it behind her.

In her own way, you think that perhaps she cares. That this is the only way she knows how to show it. It does not make you feel any better.

The next day is equally as torturous. Your maid spoon feeds you forcefully, making you eat broth that the chefs carefully prepared. You gaze out the window passively, watching the trees blow in the wind. Everything is quiet.

Until your door opens.

You resist the urge to sigh. You hope that by staying quiet enough, your mother may leave you alone. She does not, only standing still by the entryway.

“I wish to be alone.” You murmur, voice rough from unuse.

Your thoughts halt when the footsteps on the floor do not sound like your mother’s. You peek your head out, eyes widening.

“Duke Kamo?” You whisper.

He sits on the edge of the bed, concern etched onto his features. You suddenly feel very embarrassed of your current state. Unbathed, not fed, and dark circles under your eyes. 

He ignores all of that, placing a hand on your cheek.

“What is going on?” He murmurs softly.

Everything overflows all at once. It starts with one tear, two, then three, then gut wrenching sobs that wrack your entire body. He lifts your upper body into an embrace, holding you close while you wail into his coat. 

He rocks you back and forth, shushing gently. The duke’s hand caresses the back of your head soothingly, your face buried in his shoulder. His scent is comfort. That spice and woodiness that you have become so familiar with invades your senses, calming you greatly.

The two of you stay like that for an incomprehensible amount of time. Your screams eventually fade into sniffles, and he holds you through all of it. Your eyes burn, and you can already feel the puffiness forming around your eyes. 

“Talk to me.” He whispers in your ear.

You pull back, wiping away your snot. He raises his hand, rubbing the tears off your face. When you finally feel presentable, thinking about it all over again makes you want to continue crying. A tear slips down, and he wipes that away too.

You place your forehead against his. His breathing is slow, steady. You try to match it.

“He forced himself upon me.” You choke out, voice trembling.

The duke immediately goes stiff. You can nearly hear the sound of his molars grinding together, but he waits for you to continue speaking patiently.

“He kissed me. I tried to push him away but I… I was not strong enough.” You take a deep, shuddered breath, “He told me it was because I would not stay quiet. Because I was trying to ruin his reputation.”

Your bottom lip trembles once more, but before you can cry, the duke cups your face with his hands, staring you directly in the eyes.

“It is not your fault. Never will be.” He says.

It is the first time you are looking at him since you confessed. He looks angry, so very upset that it makes your heart hurt. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find the words to calm him, despite your own heartbreak.

“I…” 

“I am sorry. I am so sorry I was not there to…” He inhales deeply. “I will kill him. I will publicly challenge him to a duel for your honour today. I will put an end to this.”

You immediately jump up, shaking your head.

“No! Do not. I do not want to see you hurt, it would kill me.” You tell him, leaning into his hands.

“It would not be me who is hurt.” He replies.

“I do not care! If there is even a possibility you could be hurt because of me…” A wave of nausea overcomes you at the thought, and you halt your words.

He hesitates, before nodding carefully.

“If that is what you wish.” He states.

You sigh in relief, glad that the idea of a duel is rid from his mind. You lay back down in your bed, utterly exhausted from your display of emotion.

“What can I do?” He breathes. “Tell me how to help you.”

You shake your head. You reach out your hand. He takes it. 

“I just need you here. That is enough.” You whisper.

He nods, holding your hand tighter. A show that he is there, that he is not going anywhere.

“How are the boys?” You murmur softly.

“They miss you.” He says. “I have been barely holding them back from storming your estate thus far.”

You chuckle, your first genuine laugh in what seems like a long time. 

“I miss them too.” 

He stays for a while. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you just sit in the tranquility of the room. But he is there, an unshakable presence beside you. A comfort. A home that you did not realize was there.

“Come outside with us tomorrow.” He says.

“I cannot.” You reply tiredly. “I am not capable.”

“You are. I know you are strong enough.” He chides, running his thumb along your knuckles.

You sigh, squishing your face into your pillow. You think about it for a moment. Maybe it would be good for you to get some air. You will not have to tell your mother anything, she will just be happy that you are out of bed. You know what you are going to do.

“Alright. I will come.”

—

It feels odd being dressed again.

Your corset is tied, dress pulled over your head. You have some soft makeup done, and when you look in the mirror, you almost look presentable. No one else will know, but the dark circles under your eyes are still present. Still a reminder. Your maid gives you sad looks every now and again.

You walk to the tea room, where your parents are no doubt residing for their morning crumpets and tea. You enter the double doors. They both turn to look at you, surprised by your presence.

“My dear! You are out of bed? How wonderful.” She says.

“I am. I figure I need some air after the long rest I have had. May I go out for a walk amongst the Ton? Hina shall come with me.” You reply, getting straight to the point.

“I do not know if that is a good idea.” Your father states sternly.

“Oh, nonsense.” She scoffs. “Go, my dear. Enjoy your walk.” 

The knowing look she gives you before you leave makes you uneasy, but you brush it off.

When you step out of the front doors, you squint at the brightness of the sun on your face. It is much too strong after all the time you have spent in the darkness of your room.

Beginning your journey, you walk to the park where the duke said he would meet you. You notice almost immediately the way people are whispering when they see you. It is no doubt due to the Whistledown publication a few days prior. 

You try to ignore it, but seeing everyone talk is a reminder of Lord Geto. A recurring nightmare that cannot escape you even for a moment.

Even when he is not there, he still manages to ruin your life.

You arrive at the park, and you immediately spot the duke and Yuuji. Yuuji waves wildly, before running over to you and entrapping you in a massive hug. 

“Big sister! I missed you so much. Choso said you were feeling unwell. Are you better now?” He asks.

You force a smile, ruffling his hair.

“Much, Yuuji. It is good to see you.”

You glance at the setup in front of you. They occupied one of the tables in the park, painting supplies and canvases littered about. You look up, meeting eyes with the duke.

“What is this?” You murmur.

“Painting. Will you join us?” He asks softly.

He pulls out a chair for you, and you sit. 

“I thought you did not believe in art.” You tell him.

“I still do not. However, I know that it is something you enjoy. Alas, here we are. Do you like it?” He questions, almost nervous.

You grin, seeing all the colours and brushes lined up in front of you.

“I love it.”

You start, already picking up a brush and dipping it in the water. Yuuji gets straight to it as well, looking at the different colours thoughtfully. You do a few brushstrokes on the canvas, and notice almost immediately that the duke is sitting doing nothing.

“Is everything quite alright, my lord?” You ask curiously.

He clears his throat, nodding.

“Yes, I suppose I just… do not know what to do. I have never painted before.”

Yuuji gasps dramatically, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Like, never ever?” He asks.

Choso gives him a shove.

“It is easy my lord, I assure you. Take a look at the surroundings. When you see something that catches your eye, paint it.” You tell him.

He purses his lips, taking a look around. You stifle your giggle at his cluelessness. Yuuji is too distracted by the colours in front of him to pay any mind to the two of you.

He looks around, his eyes eventually landing on you.

“Did you see anything, my lord?” You ask.

He stares for a moment, eyes fonder than you would have expected. The longer he waits to reply, the warmer your cheeks feel, the heavier the weight in your core settles.

“Yes.” He says, still watching you.

“Excellent. Now paint it!” You chirp.

He nods slowly, looking down at the tools in front of him. He picks it up, beginning to work on his art. 

The three of you chat occasionally while you paint, ignoring the stares of people as they walk past. Your maid sits in a chair behind you, doing embroidery of her own. Yuuji tells you about his past few days, and you listen intently. Occasionally he drags the duke into it, who vehemently refuses to get caught up in his antics. It makes you laugh.

It feels like home.

The afternoon sun is warm by the time the three of you finish. Proudly, you prop up your work to show the other boys. Yuuji makes a ‘woah’ noise, and the duke looks rather surprised.

“It’s our estate!” Yuuji yells, voice much too loud for the matter at hand.

You attempted to capture every aspect of the Kamo estate, from the beige stone bricks to the dark vines creeping up the front. It looks pretty good, if you do say so yourself.

“You did it from memory? That is impressive.” The duke tells you.

You chuckle softly, placing the canvas back down. 

“I try. Well, are you boys done?” You ask.

Yuuji hums excitedly, showing off his painting. It is a little wonky, slightly off, but you can see it is a portrait of him, Miss Kugisaki, and Mister Fushiguro. A difficult portrait to make, but done surprisingly well for someone who has only painted a handful of times.

“‘Tis adorable, Yuuji!” You exclaim.

“It is very nice.” The duke says, observing it. “Looks just like them.”

The boy preens at the praise, puffing up his chest proudly.

“Thanks, I know!”

The both of you turn to the duke. A blush dusts across his face. 

“What did you paint, big brother?” Yuuji asks curiously. 

The duke coughs uncomfortably, looking rather embarrassed.

“It is nothing. It is not well done.” He says.

“Everyone has to start somewhere, my lord.” You hum.

Yuuji nods.

The duke can tell that the two of you are not going to relent, and he sighs. He hesitates, clearly having some sort of internal struggle. After a few moments, he lifts up the painting, and you freeze.

“Woah, it’s big sis!” Yuuji says.

Unmistakably, and rather good in terms of skill, it is a painting of you. You were expecting perhaps a poorly drawn tree, a picture of the river running through the park. This is… something else entirely. 

Your ears feel hot, and you suddenly feel very shy. The duke looks even more distressed than you. Mortified might be the correct term, like he never thought you would see his creation despite you being right beside him.

“It is beautiful, my lord.” You murmur.

He finally faces you, and you look into his light brown eyes like you might find some answer to a question you have not yet discovered.

“It looks just like her, the resemblance is uncanny! How did you do it, big brother?” Yuuji asks, looking closer at the canvas.

“She is right there, it is not hard.” He grumbles.

“So grouchy.” Yuuji groans.

The boys bicker, but all you can stare at is the canvas. 

The brushstrokes are loose, relaxed like someone who has been painting for years instead of someone who just picked up a brush. Your eyes are the focal point, and he captured them perfectly. You look… different, somehow, in his artwork. Like you are seeing yourself through his eyes.

“My lady?” He whispers.

You look up and see both boys now looking at you. You laugh uncomfortably.

“Shall we pack up? I do believe it is time for us to stretch our legs.” You tell them, standing from your chair.

You and the duke begin to pack things up. Your hands touch each other when you both reach for the same brush, and it makes you pause. You both mumble a small ‘I apologize’, going back to putting everything in its place in the case.

Yuuji, instead of helping, is staring at the two of you like he is seeing something he has never noticed before.

—

Yuuji skips ahead of you while you walk through the Ton, looking through the windows of various shops.

The duke carries the case of art supplies while you try to keep up with him. The two of you have not yet spoken of the painting, instead sitting in a fine line between comfortable and uncomfortable silence. 

“I want to go in here! I’ll be right back.” Yuuji yells out to the two of you, before dashing into the store.

And then there were two. Other than your maid, of course, who stands a respectable distance away.

The duke leans against the wall. You stand, holding your umbrella to shield you from the afternoon sun.

“I liked your painting.” You murmur quietly.

He sits with those words, silent for a moment.

“Thank you.” He replies.

Another bout of quiet falls over you. You kick the loose rocks from the cobblestone paved roads under your feet. 

“I have been thinking.” He starts.

You look back up at him, curious. Encouraging him to continue.

“I did not realize art could be so… relaxing. Therapeutic. There were many times in the past where I undermined your love for painting. I apologize.” 

“You do not have to apologize, my lord. It is hard to imagine how freeing it is until you actually participate in it.” You reply simply.

“That is true, I suppose. I think… I will enroll Yuuji in art tutoring as well. He seems to like it.” He states.

Your eyes widen in surprise, shocked at his sudden change of heart.

“Really? That is all it took for you to change your mind?” You ask.

He laughs softly.

“I suppose so.” He says.

“Well, I am glad that you did. Yuuji will be very happy to hear it.” You smile gently.

So quickly, and likely before the duke can even stop the words leaving his lips, he confesses something to you.

“I am not sure whether I enjoyed painting or if I just enjoyed painting you.” He blurts out.

Your mouth parts, and you suddenly are able to hear your heartbeat in your ears at the implications. Your grip on the umbrella falters for just a moment, but it is enough for it to get picked up by the wind and carried down the street. 

You curse, going to chase after it, holding up the skirt of your dress. The duke comes with you, looking equally as frazzled. The umbrella keeps going and going and going, and you suddenly double over in laughter at how ridiculous the two of you look chasing after this umbrella gone wild. 

Infected by your joy, the duke lets his own laughs out between bouts of running. You get to the end of the street before he finally catches up to it, snagging it from the ground and holding onto it tightly. 

He lifts it up, handing it to you.

“My lady.” He pants, drained from the sprinting and laughing.

You grin, taking it from him.

“Thank you, my lord.” You breathe out. 

The two of you gaze at one another, both catching your breath. Your chest rises and falls, and you cannot help but notice the way his broad chest does the same. You look up at him, suddenly very interested in the way he nearly glows under the summer sun.

Your eyes especially focus on the way he reaches up to adjust his cravat against his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing making you feel hot in all the right places. He gazes at you while he does it, unaware of the effect it has on you.

You clear your throat.

“Shall we head back? Yuuji is probably fretting over where we went.” You tell him.

“Indeed. Let us go.” He replies.

The two of you head back, meeting Yuuji and Hina halfway, the boy already running to look for you before you got back.

“There you are! Where did you guys go?” He asks, confused.

“We chased after her umbrella that decided to fly away.”

You laugh again at the image of him running after the umbrella. As if he senses why you are amused, he jabs you with his elbow gently.

“It is not funny.” He deadpans.

You do not take it too seriously. You can see the grin he is forcing down curling at his lips.

“Well, we landed in front of a good store, at least.” Yuuji says, looking up at the sign.

It is an art store, and a very well known one. Yuuji looks at his brother longingly, and Choso sighs. 

“We will be back.” He says.

Yuuji whoops, heading into the store. You chuckle as you watch them enter. 

“You seem to be having fun, my lady. I am glad.” Hina says suddenly, after being quiet for most of the day so far.

You smile softly at the ground, thinking about your outing with the boys.

“I am.” You whisper wistfully.

She gives you a knowing look, moving to stare straight ahead.

“You should spend more time with them. It will be good for you.” She states.

“I wish I could. Mother would have my head.” You sigh.

Hina gasps sharply, and you turn to her, confused. 

The man who always appears when you least want to see him (not that you ever truly do) is walking straight for you from across the street. You want to say his name. You want to tell him to stop where he is, to not come any closer.

You cannot. You are frozen in place.

“You.” Lord Geto seethes.

You frown, standing your ground silently.

“Now you want to be quiet? Great. I saw the latest edition of Lady Whistledown, no doubt your doing.” He snaps.

As if perfect timing, a couple walk past, whispering about Lord Geto. He grits his teeth.

“Silence!” He yells at them.

Shocked, they scurry away quickly.

“You cannot do anything to me here, Lord Geto.” You tell him, getting over the trembling in your fingers.

“I cannot? That is news to me. Believe it or not, darling, you are my betrothed. I can do whatever I want.” He sneers.

The man in front of you is nothing like the one you first met. He has been dissected, ripped apart for the whole Ton to see, and it was your doing. Gone are the charming smiles, the sly ploys to get at you. He cannot contain his vitriol anymore, anger on full display.

“Oh, spare me. You exhaust me.” You reply, rolling your eyes.

“I exhaust you? Imagine how I feel! You insolent-”

“Do you ever stop talking?” You cut in.

On pure instinct, Lord Geto’s hand raises above his head, coming straight towards your face. You can see it, but cannot react in time. It is too fast, too unexpected. You can only flinch.

A hand reaches out to grab Lord Geto’s wrist, ripping it away from you.

“Get the fuck away from her.” Choso basically snarls at him.

Yuuji comes barreling out of the store behind his brother, instantly bristling at the scene in front of him.

Not wanting to fight them, Lord Geto pulls his wrist away, sneering.

“Ah, it is you, the knight in shining armor.” 

He turns to you then, peering around where Choso’s body is now blocking his sight.

“Soon enough, you will not be able to hide behind them anymore, princess. What will you do then?” 

With that, he walks away, skulking down the street, glaring at the people who whisper when he passes.

You sigh, the tension leaving your body all at once.

“Are you alright?” Choso murmurs.

“My lady, that was terrible! Are you okay?” Hina asks.

You hate the feeling of being fretted over, cringing slightly. The adrenaline of seeing him again after the last time is still pumping through your veins, your heart beating fast.

“I am fine, please, do not worry about me.” You sigh.

“Of course we’re going to worry! That bastard just tried to hit you!” Yuuji yells.

“Language, Yuuji. But yes, he did.” Choso corrects.

“I assure you, this is not surprising in the least. Now tell me, what did you buy?” You say, attempting to change the subject.

The boys share a glance.

Relenting, Choso hands a bag to you.

“For you.” He simply says.

“For me?” You parrot, opening the bag.

In the bag, there is paint, a very, very expensive brand of paint. There is a new writing quill in the bag as well. You tear up, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed.

“For me?” You say once more.

He nods. 

“Do you like it?” He asks quietly.

You nod, bottom lip trembling. He sags in relief, as if you could ever hate something he has gifted to you.

“Yes. Very much so.” You smile tearfully.

—

That night, you return to your estate, heading straight for your parent’s room.

You push the doors open, and they startle.

Both in night attire, they stare at you like you have grown a second head. Your mother is in bed, book in hand, and your father stands in the middle of the room, caught off guard.

“My dear, what on earth?” Your mother asks, shocked.

“Lord Geto dishonoured me against my will.” You confess suddenly.

Your parents go silent at that. You continue, hands clenched at your sides.

“I hate him. I hate him, and I want him gone. Meeting him was the worst thing that ever happened to me.” You grit out, emotional.

Your parents share a look. Your mother looks more stressed than your father.

“Husband…” She says, full of warning.

“Silence, woman.” Your father states, voice booming.

She goes quiet, instead turning to stare at you sadly.

“You know we cannot break the engagement now.” He says sternly.

You knew this would happen. You expected this outcome, but it does not hurt any less to know how little your parents care about you. You fight back.

“No, I will not accept that, Father. I cannot. I will not marry him.” You reply, voice breaking.

“You will. You have no choice in the matter, you will do what I say!” He yells.

“The duke dishonoured me first!” You blurt out, “He came to my room in the middle of the night, and dishonoured me, and I let him. I cannot marry Lord Geto.”

Your mother sighs, closing her book.

“My dear…” She says sadly, “You do not have to lie.”

Your heart drops.

“Lie?”

“I know you have a little infatuation with him, but the duke did not dishonour you. He came in the middle of the night? Without anyone noticing? I highly doubt that.” She says.

Your father shakes his head, pinching the space in between his eyebrows.

“You think I am lying to get out of marrying Lord Geto?!” You exclaim, the weight of the situation suddenly hitting you.

“Stop this foolishness at once, girl! If Lord Geto dishonoured you, then that is done. You must go through with the wedding.” He says.

“You are not listening to me! I just said the duke-”

“You really think the duke wants you?” Your father spits. “You have nothing to offer, you weak little girl. He would not marry you even if we begged him, and that is completely disregarding the blatant lie you just spat.”

You stop in your tracks. Your breathing is the only thing you can hear. Your entire body is trembling, reality hitting you like a carriage.

You will have to marry Lord Geto.

They do not believe you.

They do not love you enough to care about the fact that he dishonoured you by force.

It is over.

“Go to bed now, dear.” Your mother whispers.

Tears slip down your cheeks, and you turn, slamming the door shut behind you.

They do not care.

You were foolish enough to think that they would. Perhaps your father is right about one more thing. 

Thoughtlessly, you have wrapped yourself up in the idea that Choso will save you from this, one way or another. You have nothing to offer the duke. He will not save you from your fate.

You are alone.

════════════════════

a/n: we're almost done guys literally like two more chapters omg

—

“Big brother!” 

His brothers are all sitting in the tea room, waiting for him. Choso walks in, adjusting his cravat. 

“Eso. Kechizu. Yuuji.” He greets. 

“You are up awfully late, brother.” Eso points out.

Choso flushes, letting out an uncomfortable cough.

“I… slept in. I apologize for keeping you waiting.” Choso says.

“You slept in?” Kechizu questions, confused.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, it is just…” Kechizu begins.

“You never sleep in, big brother! You must have been sleeping really well.” Yuuji chirps.

Choso rubs the back of his neck.

“Something like that.”

While Yuuji and Kechizu continue their conversation, Eso stares at him. Choso silently curses him for always knowing when something is off. 

“Is something the matter, brother?” Eso asks.

“No. Why do you ask?” Choso replies, playing it off.

“Yuuji is right. Sleeping in is rare for you. Did something happen last night?”

It is a pointed question. They did not speak last night about the events that happened at your estate. Choso has yet to admit to anyone, including himself, that he almost lost control once more. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” He decides on.

Eso hums, clearly unconvinced. Eso gives his brother a look that says ‘we will talk about this at a later date’.

Choso sighs.

“Yuuji. We must continue your tutoring.” He says, changing the subject.

“Sure thing, big brother!” Yuuji stands, making his way over to the table in the middle of the room. 

The two sit, Choso aiding him with his homework. He’s noticed that lately, his younger brother has been getting better with studying. It fills him with pride.

However, the longer Choso sits down to speak with his youngest brother, the more he notices something is off about him. Of course he can, he always knows when something is wrong with his brothers. It’s his duty.

“Yuuji? Is something the matter?” He asks.

The younger boy purses his lips. He looks like he’s deciding on whether or not to speak his mind. Choso waits patiently.

“Is it true? About big sister.” He murmurs.

“Is what true?” Choso knows what he’s talking about.

“Kechizu told me about last night.” Yuuji replies.

Choso sighs, prepared to explain himself once more to another one of his brothers.

“Yuuji, Lord Geto is-”

“He deserved it. I do not care about that. What I care about is whether or not we’re ever going to see her again.” 

Choso cannot see his face, but he knows what he’s feeling. It’s what the rest of his brothers are feeling as well. Confusion, unease, distress in some cases. He suddenly feels very, very guilty for putting his brothers through what he has.

In moments like this, he normally knows how to ease their minds. As of right now, it feels like somebody’s boot is in his mouth, rendering him unable to speak. 

For a brief moment, he thinks about what you would say to Yuuji. He lets it guide him. 

“I apologize, Yuuji. I do not know. Perhaps we will see her in public, or catch her without the watchful eye of her parents. Fear not, I will fix this. Last night will not be the last time you ever speak to her.” Choso says with certainty.

Yuuji thinks about his words, then nods softly.

“I trust you, big brother.” 

He goes back to his work, like his words did not completely gut Choso. He trusts him? Yuuji has never said anything like that to him before.

He really has to figure this out. For their sake.

And possibly his own.

—

“-Then, last night, the duke assaulted him. If I am being honest, I found great satisfaction in the sight. I hate Lord Geto, Miwa. He makes me wish I could disappear forever, never to be seen again.”

Miwa, not expecting the sudden onslaught of information she just received about your fiance, is rendered speechless.

Until this moment, you have provided her, and everyone, the belief that things were good between you and your betrothed. Once you sat down for tea, you could not hold it back anymore, unleashing a torrent of backstory on your fiance and how despicable he was.

“I do not know what to do, Miwa. I am lost. My worst fear is marrying him, and every day I get closer and closer to my nightmare coming to reality.”

“I… that is… a lot. I had no idea. I am so sorry for your unfortunate situation.” Miwa says.

You nod, too overcome to say anything more. You take a sip of your tea which has already gone cold during your extensive conversation.

“I am sure there is something you can do to get rid of him.” Miwa states, pondering.

“I have tried everything. My parents are unwavering in their stance. They want me to marry him.” You say, defeated. “I am starting to think that I may have to marry him after all.”

She hums softly, compassionately. 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, thinking of what to do.

“What if…” She murmurs.

You look up at her.

“Your parents care about appearances, right? ‘Tis why they want you to marry him in the first place. Title. What if you made him look bad in front of them? Gave them a reason to not want him betrothed to you any longer?” She says, perking up.

“But how? I have nothing on him, nothing that my parents do not already know.” You reply.

She thinks about it for a moment, brows scrunched up in thought. 

“We will find something. I will have Kokichi ask around and speak to him directly. Perhaps as a man, he will discover something that we cannot. I will talk to my maids, they will dig deeper as well.” Miwa declares, suddenly serious.

She takes your hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Do not worry. We will get you out of this.” 

You stare at her for a moment. You feel the burn in your eyes, an onslaught of tears about to make their way down the apples of your cheeks. 

You think about freedom. What it would be like to be free from his shackles. To be in the arms of someone else, truly happy. Someone actually kind, intelligent, exciting. Someone like-

You pause. With great effort, you scrub the image of pigtails and amber eyes from your brain.

“Thank you, Miwa. I am so very grateful to have you by my side.” You tell her.

She beams.

“Of course. What else are friends for?”

—

A few days later, you prepare for a dinner with Lord Geto and your parents.

You choose your own dress and jewelry. You decide on a navy blue gown. 

It’s a little piece of strength during what is bound to be a difficult night. Blue, the colour of calmness, loyalty, and security. Blue, as your own form of resistance.

After all, it is another man’s favourite colour. You hold it close to your heart. A little piece of the Kamo’s with you tonight, since you are so far apart.

You walk down the hallways, staring straight ahead. The maids have just brought it to your attention that Lord Geto has arrived.

You hear him before you see him.

He is in the dining room with your family, chatting and laughing with them. You enter the room, smiling.

“Mother. Father. Lord Geto.” You greet with a small bow.

“Oh, dear, you look ravishing tonight! This surely is your colour. Do you not agree, Lord Geto?” She asks with a faux smile.

You turn to him, and a grin stretches over his face.

“Indeed.” He simply states.

He stands, approaching you like a cat ready to pounce. He lifts your hand, kissing the back of it gently. 

“My lady.” He murmurs.

You ignore him, walking to your chair. You wait for him to pull it out for you, and only take your seat when he does. He circles around, sitting across from you.

“My dear, we were just speaking about your upcoming nuptials! I was thinking of classic red and white as the theme. What do you think? If you like it, I will have the flowers ordered immediately.”

You smile at her.

“Of course, Mother. That sounds delightful.” 

She squeals, positively elated for you to be on board with her plans. 

“I knew it! Oh, darling, I knew we made the right decision with her and Lord Geto.” She chirps, turning to Lord Geto, “Are you excited as well?”

“Very.” He chuckles, “Your daughter is one of a kind. I truly cannot wait to have her by my side forever.”

The last bit is pointed. He’s mocking you. You smile at him. You are not afraid any longer. Miwa’s husband uncovered some very interesting information for you, and you intend to use it to your advantage.

“Why thank you, Lord Geto. That is very kind.” You reply.

“He truly is the kindest. I can think of no other person so charming! Is that not right, darling?” She exclaims, taking a long sip of wine.

Your father grunts in response, more focused on when the food will be arriving. 

“Anyways, I heard that you are to be travelling again soon, Lord Geto. Your travels amaze me! Tell me more about your voyage to Africa.” Your mother says.

He obliges, telling her grand tales of white horses with black stripes and animals with necks doubly as long as their body. You pick at your gloves, waiting for the right opportunity to strike.

The food comes, and you silently thank god for the distraction. At least you will hear his voice no more.

“But indeed, I do hope to make some discoveries on my next voyage to Asia. Your daughter will surely report our findings to you.” He grins.

Your mother laughs joyfully. Loudly and overbearing. Your father ignores her, choosing to instead focus on the steak in front of him.

“Lord Geto, you are truly fantastic. I am sure I will hear much about it in Lady Whistledown.” She says, amused.

“Lady Whistledown does not report on everything from Lord Geto, so I would not get your hopes up.” You murmur.

“Whatever do you mean, dear?” Your mother asks, confused.

You turn to Lord Geto. You can see the confusion etched on his features. You revel in it. You carefully watch each change in his face before you say your next words.

“Oh, I apologize, Mother. You did not hear through the grapevine? I have been hearing much of it lately.” You ask, feigning ignorance.

“Hear what?” She asks, becoming agitated with being left out of the loop.

“The fact that Lord Geto used to lay with men.”

The table becomes so silent you could hear a pin hit the ground. 

It is a low blow. You personally have no issue with those who partake in those of the same sex, but you know the Ton does, and especially your parents. Lord Geto’s face drops. You can tell. Everyone at the table can tell by his reaction alone.

It was not a simple lie.

“Lord Geto?” Your father sternly asks for an explanation.

He gapes for a moment, mouth opening and closing like the fish you used to catch when you were a child.

It makes you grin.

“I… I do not…” He stammers.

“Stop stuttering, boy. Is it true or not?” Your father says.

Your mother quietly watches, fuming.

He stares at you then. Your parents cannot see it, but you have known him long enough to recognize it. That simmering rage that he is usually so good at hiding is on full display. The mask has been lifted.

He takes a shaky breath.

“Unfortunately, it is true. I… I was a rebellious teenager. My parents hated nothing more than homosexuals, and I decided to use that to my advantage. I did not particularly enjoy it. It is a thing of the far past.” He says through gritted teeth.

Not quite what you heard. You heard that he got thoroughly fucked by men and very much enjoyed it. But, alas, the sneaky rat will do what he does best. 

Lie.

“Who was speaking about this?” Your mother asks you.

“Some ladies I was in cahoots with at the park. Lady Nishimiya and Lady Mai Zen’in, in particular. Although I am not sure who they heard it from, who knows?” You chirp.

Your father angrily pushes his plate off the table, the ceramic shattering on the floor. You flinch.

“Hell! This is bloody ridiculous. How long have you known about this, you brat?” He asks.

You feign ignorance, giving him a confused frown.

“You did not know? I was under the assumption that everyone knew. It is quite the prolific rumour.” You tell him. 

Your parents look positively scandalized, and it fills you with an unusual amount of glee. 

Lord Geto, however, looks like he wants to jump over the table and personally strangle you with his own two hands.

“I assure you, it is not as grand as she is making it sound. Let us-”

“I believe you should take your leave for the night, Lord Geto.” Your mother spits.

He pauses, shocked.

You smile.

Lord Geto stands slowly, giving a small bow and making his way out of the room. He does not leave without throwing you a nasty glare on the way out. You hold your head high. You are the one victorious this time. 

The door shuts behind him, and silence falls over the rest of you at the table.

“Well… I do believe it is time for dessert.” You grin.

—

You wake up the next morning, refreshed and ready for the day.

You have a stupid smile on your face the whole morning, despite your parents’ bad mood. You skip along the halls, heels clacking off the marble.

You paint. You read. You partake in some baking.

Everything is blissfully perfect.

Well, almost everything. As you paint outside, you catch yourself staring at the Kamo estate more often than not. You wish to speak to them. Desperately.

You did not realize how lonely you would be when they are removed from your life. Their absence leaves a hollow pit in your stomach, unfilled by anything except for their presence. You wish to paint with Yuuji, drink with Eso, have conversation with Kechizu. 

You wish to see the duke. Among other things you wish to do with him.

You shake your head, face feeling hot.

You would be lying if you said you had not been thinking of the last time you saw him. How close he was, so close that he was almost able to take off the sheet and reveal your bare form to him. If your father had not interrupted, you wonder if he would have.

You wanted him to.

You are not particularly privy to all things… sex. You are aware of the general concept, your maid made sure of that. However, if it feels anything like the night where he kissed you for the first time, you decidedly would not be opposed.

You debate about it, but you end up deciding to write a letter. You write to the duke, explaining the situation, and how things are looking up. You write a short note for the younger brothers as well, not wanting to leave them out.

Smiling, and covered in ink, you close up the letter.

You give it to your maid, trusting that she will have it delivered despite what your parents may feel for the Kamos. 

You look out the window to their estate once more.

Soon, you hope.

—

“Tell me all about it.”

You have tea with Miwa once more the next day, and she is more than eager to hear about how your dinner with Lord Geto went.

“Oh, Miwa, it could not have been better. Once I revealed the information your husband provided, my parents were positively livid. I do think that they are starting to be swayed.” You tell her with a big smile.

“Excellent! I am glad it all went to plan.” She says.

You hum, pouring a little more sugar in your tea.

“I have another idea.” Miwa suddenly speaks up.

“What is it?” You ask curiously.

“While I do think it is working, I do not think it is enough. We should put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak.” She replies.

You chuckle, surprised. You were not expecting Miwa to have such a devious side.

“Alright, tell me. What is your ingenious idea?” 

“We use the ultimate gossip mongerer to really give your parents a scare. To make them truly care about their image so much that they must cancel the wedding.” She says.

“Lady Whistledown?” You ask, surprised.

“Indeed. We can use her to our advantage. If we start spreading the rumor around, no doubt she will write about such a blasphemous affair.” Miwa states proudly.

You laugh.

“Miwa! You are a genius. I will get right on spreading that. Will you help me out with that as well?” You reply.

“Of course! I will immediately go tell all my friends right after this.” She chirps.

You grin, suddenly very excited at the prospect of being free.

“I do not know what I would do without you.” You tell her honestly.

“Do not thank me just yet. Let us complete the plan first.” Miwa smiles.

You lean back in your chair, sighing deeply.

“Ah, freedom, I can see it already.” You say.

“What is the first thing you are going to do with your newfound freedom?” She asks.

You hum.

“Probably speak with the Kamos.” You confess.

“The Kamos?” Miwa parrots.

“Yes. After the little mishap at the Kamo estate last week my parents have barred me from speaking to them any longer. I just wish to see them again.” You tell her.

“Ah, yes, I heard about that. I did not realize their tussle was about you, though.”

“Allegedly, the Earl was saying some unkind and vile words about me. The duke decided to step in. Admittedly, I am still a little peeved about that. I wish he would have spoken to me first before taking action.” You say, pouring more tea.

“You must be close.” Miwa states.

“To the duke? Not particularly.” 

Miwa tilts her head, confused.

“You just said he defended your honour. Surely that is a sign of closeness, is it not?”

You choose to omit the fact that he was also the one that dishonoured you.

“He is just… a nuisance. He irritates me to no end, we cannot even have a conversation without some sort of bickering. I dislike him so.” You say.

“There has to be something about him you like for you to stick around so long.” She asks, amused.

“His brothers. But I do suppose that he has some admirable traits. He is loyal to a fault. He is generous, extremely so, and intelligent. Did you know he was studying for a doctorate before his father passed? It is fascinating. We must discuss more about science next time I see him, for I have read much more of the chemistry book in my collection.” You say.

Miwa stares.

“But you… do not like him?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Miwa analyzes your face to see if you jest. You are not. She then smiles at you as if she knows something you do not.

“Right. Interesting indeed.” She murmurs.

“But alas, with your plan, Miwa, I hope to see his brothers soon. I am sure things will work out.”

“I am sure.”

The two of you clink your teacups together, unified.

—

Choso sits at his desk, catching up on a mountain of paperwork that he has been avoiding. He has managed to make his way through most of it, the words starting to blur on the paper. At this point, he is just signing without looking.

He hears a knock at his office door.

“Come in.” He says, still looking down.

The door opens, and Choso briefly looks up.

Eso.

“You have been avoiding me.” Eso states.

“I have not.” Choso replies.

“You have.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Yes, no.”

Eso scoffs, going to pour himself a glass of whiskey from the cabinet.

“That is supposed to be for guests, you know. ‘Tis the highest quality liquor we have.” Choso deadpans.

“I do not really care. We do not have guests anyways.” Eso replies, taking a swig.

Choso sighs, going back to his paperwork. 

“Talk to me, brother. What happened with her that has you so distracted lately?” Eso asks.

“It is nothing, Eso. You are making a big fuss about something so small.”

“So something did happen?”

Choso, suddenly feeling like strangling his brother, glares at Eso.

“No.”

“You keep saying no, brother, but I do not believe you.”

Choso rests his head in his hands, debating if he is going to tell Eso he nearly messed up again, ruining his reputation as the calm, level headed older brother.

“She accepted the apology.” Choso simply says.

“That is it? Truly?” Eso questions suspiciously.

“Yes. She accepted the apology, we talked about science, then I came home.”

“And no… dishonouring, this time, then?” 

Choso thinks about his answer. It takes a moment too long.

“Brother, I swear to god.”

“No. There was no dishonouring. That is the truth.” Choso says.

“You expect me to believe that after the pause you just made?” Eso asks incredulously.

“Yes. I expect you to believe me when I tell you the honest truth.” Choso replies.

That seems to silence Eso. He sighs, taking a seat. 

“Well, then, I suppose there is nothing else for me to say.” He says.

“Indeed there is not.”

The two ruminate in silence for a few minutes, Eso nursing his drink and Choso’s pen dancing across paper. Choso ignores the way that Eso occasionally looks over, as if he is trying to decipher some hidden code. 

Another knock at Choso’s office door.

“For the love of god, who is it now?” He grumbles.

The door opens, and one of the maids walks in.

“My lord.” She bows slightly, “I have a letter.”

“A letter? From who?” Choso asks, confused. “I was not expecting anything today.”

“It is from next door.”

Choso stands up from his chair, darting across the room to grab the letter from her. Eso snorts, waving the maid away. She leaves, shutting the door behind her.

“You are rather excited, brother.” 

“Shut up.”

Eso stands, taking a look at the enclosed envelope in his brother’s hands. Choso does not know why his brother is staring at him so, grabbing a letter opener.

Eso, really, is watching the stupid smile that came onto his brother’s face when he heard there was a letter from you.

—

You have a visitor.

You happily tap your feet as you walk to the front foyer, humming as you go. The letter to the duke must have arrived, and now he is here to speak with you. Something you have been waiting on for many days.

You swiftly make your way down the stairs, glancing up at the bottom of the steps.

“My lord-”

You pause when you realize, it is in fact, not the duke at your doorstep.

“Betrothed.” Lord Geto spits venomously.

You sigh, not willing to have this conversation right now.

“What do you want, Lord Geto?” You ask, rolling your eyes.

“What, I cannot come visit my future wife?” He replies.

You scoff.

“You really believe this farce will last much longer? That truly is comedic, my lord.” You seethe. 

“Do not be such a brat, my lady, it is unbecoming.” He chirps.

Anger bubbles in your chest. You slowly walk closer to him, pointing a finger accusingly.

“How dare you, Lord Geto? A brat? What the hell has gotten into you lately? You dare call me a brat in my own home? I should have you kicked out immediately.”

You turn to call your maid, to have him removed. A hand around your wrist pauses you. You try to remove it, tugging harshly, but he grips you hard enough to bruise.

“I will not be here for long. I just came here to do this.” He says simply.

“To do what? Grab my-”

You are cut off by lips meeting your own.

Time seems to slow. Your first immediate thought is that this is wrong. So very wrong. It is followed by a fierce sense of disgust that rattles you to your very core.

You fight back. You try to pull away, pushing your free hand anywhere you can reach. His neck, his chest. You attempt to claw at his eyes, and he simply grips your face.

You lean back, your body being stopped by the table behind you.

This is wrong. You need to do something. You need to move.

His tongue makes its way into your closed mouth, and you cry out, the sound muffled by his mouth against your own. You hit him. You smack him, throw your fist at him repeatedly. It does not matter. He is too tall, too strong.

Your eyes begin to sting.

Geto pulls away, a string of saliva still connected between the two of you.

“There. Was that so bad?” He asks, a vile grin on his face.

You stand there, stupified, staring at him with wide eyes. Your body trembles.

“I am going to tell my parents what you have done, you perverted freak!” You spit at him, finally ripping your arm out of his grip.

He simply laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“You can. It will not free you from me, though.” He states.

You pause, voice shaking.

“What do you mean?”

He hums, stepping backwards.

“It means, my dear, that you have been dishonoured. If you let them know, you’ll be bound to me forever. After all, what other man would ever want a dishonoured woman?” He smiles.

The realization that he is right hits you all at once. You fall to your knees, dread seeping into every one of your bones.

If you tell them, they will force you to marry him with some old fashioned belief that a woman dishonoured is a woman to be married. If you say nothing, you are submitting to him, and there is still the possibility that your parents will continue the engagement.

You are trapped. He has gained the upper hand once more.

“What… why have you done this?” You ask, voice quiet.

He crouches, meeting you at eye level. 

“Because you could not just be silent. You had to try and ruin me. I will not let you get away with it.” He murmurs.

He stands back to his full height, headed towards the door. With a wave over his shoulder, he leaves you with one final message.

“See you at the wedding, my love.”

—

Choso opens the letter with his knife, pulling out the contents. He smiles softly at the curvature of your writing, the neatness of the letters.

Eso has long left, Choso insisting that he read the letter alone.

Thus, he begins.

My lord,

I would like to update you on the current state of things. My dearest friend has provided me some excellent insight on how to be rid of the situation I am in. The plans are already coming into effect, and I have high hopes for the best outcome. The first step has already been taken, and everything has gone swimmingly. Perhaps soon, we will be able to meet once more.

Your brothers promised me a game of pall-mall, and I intend to take them up on their offer. I would like it to be the first thing done, matter of factly. Let your younger brothers know that I will not take it easy on them, and I would hope for the same in return. This especially applies to you, my lord.

I would not have been able to do this without the continued support of you and your family. Of course, I am still barred from speaking to you, and I knew this letter would be the only way to reach you. I want to thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your family has been a great blessing to me, and I thank my lucky stars every day to have met such an amazing group of people. Thank you, Choso, for everything. 

We shall meet in person soon enough.

Kindest regards,

The girl next door

════════════════════

a/n: i need to stop making people evil... anyways, next chapter is going to be a long one, hope you enjoyed

“Watch this!” He shouts back.

He kicks the football forward, shooting it and kicking it straight into the net, right over Eso’s head. He lets out a whoop, jumping in the air, while Eso scowls.

“Again!” Eso yells.

You watch the boys bicker, sitting on your chair doing embroidery. Well… you were. The ring sits on your lap, half done and ignored. You run your fingers along your lips softly, retracing where Choso’s lips were on yours just days prior. Heat rises in your core just thinking about it.

The backdoors open up behind you, and you turn around swiftly, expecting Choso. It’s Kechizu, and you feel guilty for the way your shoulders sag.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly.

You sigh, nodding.

“I apologize, Kechizu. I am just on edge lately.” You reply. “Come, sit with me.”

He obliges, sitting in the chair next to you. Eso continues to get more irate with Yuuji as he scores more goals, Yuuji doubling over in a fit of laughter about it. 

“He’s truly talented, isn’t he?” You muse.

Kechizu hums.

“Too talented for his own good. He does not know what to do with it.” 

You chuckle, picking up your embroidery needle and continuing to work.

“He will, with time. He is a loose cannon right now. Yuuji will grow up and hone his skills, I am sure.” You say.

“You have faith in him.” Kechizu states matter-of-factly.

“You do not?” You tease.

Kechizu flushes, pouting, and you laugh at him.

“I jest. Of course I do, and I know you do too. Just like Eso, and just like Choso, in his own way.” You say, pushing the needle through the fabric.

It’s silent for a moment, and you glance up casually at Kechizu. He’s staring.

“Is something the matter?” You ask.

Kechizu looks like he’s debating on whether or not to speak his mind, before ultimately giving in.

“It is nothing, I just… I do not think I have heard you call my brother by his given name before.” He points out.

Your heart skips a beat. You school your face, not betraying the panic you suddenly feel at trying to cover your slip up.

“Ah, you know, I call the three of you by your given names, I figured that I should refer to the duke that way as well. If it makes you uncomfortable, though-”

“It does not. I like it.” He says simply.

You hum, going back to your embroidery. You try to act nonchalant, but your hands are trembling. Your hand slips, and you prick yourself with your needle. You curse, putting the wound into your mouth.

“Are you alright?” Kechizu asks, panicked.

“I am quite fine, I just-” You hiss, watching the blood trickle down, “I just pricked myself. Nothing to fret over.” 

It makes you feel foolish. You have not pricked your finger on embroidery needles since you were a little girl. What is happening to you? You sigh, putting down the ring for good before you bleed all over it.

“Do you need it bandaged?” Kechizu asks.

You stare down at your finger. The blood has not stopped, still trickling down your finger and running lightly down the back of your hand. 

“Perhaps. It is a deeper wound than I previously had thought.” You confess.

“My brother should be inside in the tea room. He knows how to bandage wounds. He has practiced countless times. Eso and Noranso injured themselves while playing football quite frequently.” 

You pause.

If you say no, it looks strange, especially after calling him by his first name in front of his brother. The reality is, you really do not want to see him. He’s been avoiding you for days, and continues to hide even when you are present at his estate.

But your finger is stinging, it is irritating you, and you just want to get back to embroidery.

You sigh a great, deep sigh.

“I suppose I will go see if he is still there.” You purse your lips.

Kechizu chuckles.

“Good luck.”

‘Good luck’? His ominous message that he leaves you with makes you feel like he knows something you do not. It’s unsettling.

Ignoring your gut feeling, you enter the house, walking towards the tea room. You’ve been present in the house enough to know exactly where it is.

You stand in front of the door for a moment.

Really, you should just walk back outside. The wound will close eventually, and you can just spend time with the brothers until then. It will all be fine. You do not have to face the duke, and you can go about your day.

You turn around, ready to walk down the hall. The door swings open behind you.

“Kechizu, I thought we agreed upon no more lingering-”

He stops, and you close your eyes, sighing deeply.

You’ve been caught.

“‘It is just me.” You say quietly, turning around to face him.

You have not seen him since that night. His hair is down today, pieces framing his strong features. His eyes are wide, clearly not expecting to see you on the other side of the door. He’s only wearing an undershirt, the chest of it wide open. 

Your mouth waters.

“Oh.” He mutters. “What are you doing here?”

You lift up your injured hand, the blood dripping down your fingers on full display. He leaps into action, pulling you into the tea room.

“Wait here.” He commands, sitting you down on the couch.

You fiddle with your fingers while you wait for him, staring at the tea room. It’s as boring as the rest of the house. Just as dreary as well. You go to open one of the curtains, allowing some light in.

The sun is hot on your skin through the glass. You close your eyes, feeling the summer sun.

You make the decision to open the rest of the curtains as well.

When the duke re-enters, he pauses and squints at the sudden light in his place of refuge.

“I thought I told you to wait in the chair.” He grunts.

“I do what I please.” You humph in retaliation, sitting back down on the couch.

He rolls his eyes, moving to sit beside you. 

“Show me.” He murmurs.

You raise up the injured hand. He takes your hand gently in his own, beginning to wipe it down with a damp cloth. He’s careful, treating you like fine china. You wince when he goes over the direct puncture.

He pauses, glancing up at you for permission to continue. You nod.

“How did this happen?” He asks.

“Embroidery.” You simply say.

He hums. The duke wipes away the remainder of the blood. He places the towel off to the side, reaching for his small tray of aid supplies. He rolls up his sleeves, and you try to not notice the veins peeking out over thick muscles. Taking out the bandages, he unrolls them.

“You are not one to make simple mistakes like that.” He says suddenly.

You feel your cheeks grow hot, the real reason for your mishap coming to the forefront of your mind. You fumble for words, figuring out the most reasonable explanation that does not include confessing you were fantasizing about the man in front of you.

“I- well, I just… I was distracted in conversation with Kechizu.” You decide on.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing your story.

“Wrapped up in conversation with my brother, huh?” He mumbles, taking your hand once more.

He wraps your finger with the bandage. You take the opportunity to stare at him.

He looks rather beautiful in this light. Like a statue carved out by England’s finest artisan, all chiseled marble and sharp edges. His hair is longer than you had expected it to be, layered hair draping down his shoulders.

“What are you looking at?” He grumbles.

You exhale.

“You.”

He stills. Tired amber eyes meet your own. He does not address your statement, finishing up with wrapping the bandage. Once he decides that it will stay on, he stands.

“Change it in a few hours. Do what you wish until then.”

You watch him go.

“You are leaving?” You whisper.

He opens the door, leaving without sparing a second glance.

The duke leaves despite the fact that you were the one in his space, papers and documents laid out on the table in front of you. The room feels much bigger without him in it.

His tea is cold.

—

That night, a letter from Yuuji is delivered by your maid.

You find it rather amusing that he wrote a letter when he lives right next door. Using a letter opener, you tear it open. The chicken scratch making up the contents of the letter gives you trouble, but you get the general gist of what he is trying to say.

“A charity sports event, huh?” You murmur.

Allegedly, the Prince signed up the youngest Kamo to participate in a sports competition without his knowledge. By Yuuji’s words, you assume that the eldest was not made aware either. 

He wants you in attendance for support.

Of course, you go.

The next day, you are dolled up in the summer heat, wearing a dark shade of amethyst purple. You carry your umbrella, walking amongst the stands and crowds of people. It is a bigger affair than you anticipated. There are vendors, games, and a plethora of seating for the insurmountable number of guests in attendance.

While walking to the stands, you see the Kamo brothers. Eso and Kechizu are seated, leaving an empty space on either side. One for you, and one for their eldest brother. On instinct, you prepare to walk over.

An arm interlinks into your own, holding tighter when you try to tug away.

“What a coincidence seeing you here, darling.”

You sigh.

“Lord Geto.”

“Sweetheart.”

He wears his usual fox-like grin. He’s lightly dressed, no doubt due to the summer heat. It almost makes you jealous. Oh, if only you were a man that did not have to wear corsets.

“What are you doing here? You do not believe in charity.” You quip.

He chuckles lowly.

“I had an inkling that you might possibly be in attendance, and it turns out I was right. Come, shall we find our seats?” He smiles.

Gritting your teeth, you nod, hoping that if you just comply he will eventually leave you be. He leads you in the opposite direction of the Kamo brothers. You sit in the third row of an adjacent stand, now waiting for the games to begin. 

“I see you did not listen to me.” He says.

You raise an eyebrow, refusing to look at him.

“I do not listen to many things. You will have to be more specific.” You state.

“The Kamos. You still continue to speak with them.” 

You look at the brothers sitting on the stands then. The duke has joined them. Eso and Kechizu are speaking about what’s happening on the field. The duke is looking directly at you. You turn away, unable to handle the weight of his gaze.

“That is one thing you cannot convince me to give up, unfortunately.”

You would willingly give up many things if forced to. Family, friends, your life. But them? Never that.

He makes a noise of discontent. A muted hum.

“Why are you so attached to those monkeys anyways?” He asks.

It almost sounds like a genuine question when he says it. You take a deep breath, calming yourself. The more you react, the better he feels.

“They are kind. They are intelligent. They are thoughtful, insightful. Most importantly, they are good people. I enjoy their company, much more than I enjoy your own.” You sneer.

“How fascinating. You wish to speak with them even though they are lesser?” 

“They are not lesser. No one is lesser or greater than anyone else. We are all humans, and we are equal.” You tell him.

“You will come to realize eventually, my dear, that the divide between classes is too great to close. The unintelligent monkeys at the bottom of the chain will never reach us. They are lesser. It is a fact.” He grins.

The duke has disappeared from his seat. You only notice now when you longingly look over, thinking about where you could be right now compared to being with this insolent idiot. He should return soon, you rather think.

The event is beginning.

“I will not try to change your mind, Lord Geto-”

“-Suguru-”

“-Because you are beyond saving. I will not waste my words on you any longer.” You say.

He laughs, light and airy. He takes your hand, his fingers touching the bandage still wrapped around your finger.

“You are amusing, my dear. I cannot wait for you to be my wife.” He gleefully says.

“I cannot say the same.” You scoff.

You can see Yuuji on the field. He looks so excited to be there, so joyful. It fills your heart with warmth. You smile fondly.

“And when will I receive a smile like that again, dear?” He teases.

“When I am dead.” You quickly respond, mood souring.

He laughs louder this time, heartier. His long hair sways when he moves.

“We’ll see about that.” He grins slyly.

“Lord Geto!” 

He frowns, turning towards the source of the voice. It’s his footman, running up from the direction of the carriages.

“The horses got loose!” 

“What?!” He sneers, standing straight up.

“I apologize, my lord, I do not know what happened! I checked the reins mere minutes before they escaped.” The footman says.

“You incompetent monkey!” Geto seethes.

You watch as he storms off, going to fix whatever situation he got himself into. You humph, straightening out your dress, happy to be away from him. When he leaves, you think about going to sit with the Kamo brothers, until a presence sits down right beside you.

The duke is wearing a purple waistcoat today compared to the usual black or grey. His hair is up in his usual updo. You look at his hairstyle differently now that you know what it feels like to run your fingers through it.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, surprised.

“I saw you had an open seat, so I came to sit.”

You watch him suspiciously. His face does not betray anything, so you let it go.

“Yuuji is on the blue team it seems.” You muse.

The duke merely hums.

The resounding silence that follows is deafening. Attempting one more time, you speak up.

“Is it just football that they are playing? If so, I fear the other team is in for it. Yuuji’s favourite sport is football.” You chuckle.

The duke nods.

You bristle, turning away from him slightly. In your peripheral vision, he turns to you. He opens his mouth a few times to say something, but nothing comes out. Eventually, he finds words.

“Are you… alright?” He asks.

You roll your eyes, irritated with his behaviour.

“No, I am not. Why bother coming over here to sit if you will not even speak to me? It is foolish.” You snip.

He pauses, his face scrunching up for a moment. Like he’s wildly uncomfortable and unsure of how to handle this conversation.

“Against my better judgement, I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You scoff.

“Against your better judgement? How charming.”

He rolls his eyes with a groan.

“‘Tis not like that. You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” 

He frowns.

Another silence blooms.

“I am… uncomfortable.” He suddenly says.

You turn to him, confused. Your silence is a cue for him to elaborate.

“With this. With the other night.”

“Ah.” You simply state. “That.”

He hums.

“I understand if you… regret it, my lord. You do not have to explain yourself.”

You prepare yourself for the inevitable hurt that is about to come. Of course he regrets it. That is why he has been avoiding you for nearly a week at this point. He may, but you don’t. It consumes you.

“Do not do that.” He says, voice soft.

“Do what?” You ask, puzzled.

“Do not call me only by my title like nothing happened.”

He pulls back, running desperate and rushed kisses down the expanse of your throat. Your nightgown is pushed up, and you can feel his hardness against your barely clothed core. You gasp, throwing your head back with a hearty moan.

“Choso…” You breathe.

You turn your face away, embarrassed.

“I am sorry.” He suddenly says. “I should not have done what I did. It was wrong of me. I dishonored you. I am plagued with guilt about it every single night.” 

“Hold on a moment!” You gripe, “You act like I had nothing to do with it when I did. I chose it just as much as you did, I am not an inanimate object. You need not allow it to keep you up at night.” 

He goes quiet at that, staring at the field. 

The teams are announced with a speakerphone, and the crowd goes wild with whoops and cheers. You clap loudly when Yuuji runs onto the field, whistling and waving out at him. Choso gives a clap as well.

Yuuji grins when he sees the two of you, waving and jumping wildly.

“He looks happy.” Choso murmurs.

You smile, the boy’s joy infectious.

“He does. Thank you for letting him do this.” You say earnestly.

“I was not going to tell him no, no matter my feelings for the prince. He was so excited when he found out.”

The ball is kicked off, and the game begins. The players run across the field, passing the ball between each other. You simply clap when it looks like something happens. You do not really know anything about football, but you showed up anyway simply to support your younger brother.

“You are a good brother, Choso.” You tell him.

“Sometimes I worry otherwise.” He confesses.

You turn to him, confused.

“Why on earth would you think that?” 

He looks uncomfortable. Like he is not used to speaking about this topic. You wonder if you are the only one he has ever confessed that to.

“I am not always there. Emotionally, that is. I was never taught how to deal with that, so I… avoid it. I feel sometimes that they deserve a brother who can truly open up around them and be a comfort in return.” He tells you.

“They do not need comfort. They need you.” You murmur, brushing your leg against his own.

“Everyone needs comfort.” He scoffs.

You know it is not you who he is truly mad at.

“True, but that is what they have each other for. You’re a pillar for them. They know that whatever they need, whenever they need, they have you to stand by them. You have sacrificed a lot for them. Have more grace with yourself, and trust that at the end of the day, they are happy. That is all that matters.”

He ponders your words for a moment. He does not reply. He bumps his leg against yours, and your fingers brush on the bench they are placed on. 

“Thank you.” He says sincerely.

You smile softly, heat tickling the apples of your cheeks.

“You need not thank me. It is what I am here for.” 

The crowd suddenly ramps up in volume, and the two of you turn to the field. Yuuji has the ball, kicking it through an opposing player’s legs. He runs forward, kicking the ball past the goalie and directly into the net. 

The people around you rise and cheer, and you and Choso both jump to your feet along with them. You whistle using your thumb and pointer finger, your umbrella a forgotten memory on the ground. Choso chuckles beside you at your enthusiasm.

The other team gets the ball to kick off the next half, and you sit back down.

“Say, how did you know that Lord Geto was going to leave?” You ask curiously.

Choso blushes. Embarrassed, he tells the truth.

“I must confess, it was with… poor intentions. I may have given Kugisaki and Fushiguro some money to loosen the reins on his carriage.” He says bashfully.

You stare at him. He is not joking.

Breaking out into giggles, you try to stifle them with your glove. Choso, beside you, tries to hide a smile of his own from you.

“Are you serious?” You ask in between gasps.

“Quite.” He replies, amused.

You shove him gently, laughing.

“You are ridiculous, truly.” You smile.

He gazes upon you with a smile you have never quite seen on him before. You do not know what to make of it, but it makes butterflies flutter in the pit of your stomach. You bite your lip and stare at your lap, trying to calm your own smile.

The two of you continue to chatter while Yuuji plays his game. For a moment, it is easy to forget all the tension and live in the moment. Yuuji continues to score two more goals for his team, bringing him to score three out of four goals his team achieved total. 

The two of you meet up with Eso and Kechizu after the whistle blows and the game ends. 

“Big sister! Big brother!” Yuuji yells, skipping over.

He jumps into your outstretched arms, and you laugh, swinging him around.

“I am so proud of you! You worked so hard today.” You tell him.

You turn to Choso, and he ruffles his hand through Yuuji’s hair.

“It was an eventful game. Well done, Yuuji.” 

Yuuji positively beams.

You end up leaving with the Kamo brothers, ignoring the whispers that follow you while you go. Their opinion does not matter anyways. 

—

You are aware that Lord Geto does not receive an invitation to the next ball of the season, and for one reason only.

The ball is at the Kamo estate.

You do not believe that there has ever been a ball at the Kamo estate, at least not in your lifetime. It brings much chatter among the Ton of what one of England’s most illustrious families’ house entails.

You, of course, are in attendance. You arrived early to help prepare, directing the maids on where to place things and making sure the cleaners reach certain spots they may have not before. You help them, carrying baskets of flowers around the estate.

The weather is beautiful, not too warm, just enough with the lightest breeze. The sun begins to set, and the guests are soon to arrive.

It is perfect. Nothing could go wrong with this ball, right?

Wrong. So very wrong.

You stand to the side with Lady Ieiri, chatting about the recent books you both have read, and her experience with medical training as of late. Lady Iori joins in as well, and you are rather enjoying the conversation with other women. You do not partake as often as you probably should.

The night has been going smoothly thus far, the initial novelty of being inside the Kamo estate wearing off after a few hours inside. The band is playing gentle dancing music, reflecting the personalities of the majority of the Kamo brothers.

“I heard about your engagement.” Lady Ieiri says.

Your life lately has been so good you’d nearly forgotten about it until she mentions it. 

“No congratulations?” You tease.

“Not from me. Apologies, my lady, but I despise him.” Lady Iori states angrily.

“You are not the only one.” You reply.

“He was a dear friend to me once, but that was long ago. I do not see him changing his ways from back then anytime soon.” Lady Ieiri muses, taking a pull from her pipe. 

“Me either. He is despicable, that man.”

“Why marry him then? Surely there were other options, no?” Lady Iori questions.

“It was arranged.”

The other women let out resounding noises of understanding. 

“That is a shame. I apologize for the misfortune.” Lady Ieiri says genuinely.

“No need. I will figure out a way to be rid of this situation, to be sure.” You state.

“I wish you luck, then.” Lady Ieiri chuckles.

You hear a minor commotion coming from the hallway outside of the ballroom. It seems the other women heard as well, both of them turning their heads towards the sudden out of place noise. 

The noise grows louder and louder, and unease rises up in your throat. You swiftly hand your drink to Lady Iori, headed towards the tension outside. In a strange way, you really hope it is nothing, and not for your sake.

There is a crowd forming in the hall near the exit, and you push through the herd of people gathered there.

“Excuse me- pardon, apologies, excuse me!” You say, pushing your way through.

The sight you are met with is not a good one.

Choso, disheveled and angrier than you have ever seen him, has Lord Geto, who was not supposed to even be here, on the ground. He holds him one-handed by the collar, landing repeated hits to his face. Lord Geto, clearly taken off guard by the attack, holds his arms up defensively.

“Cho- Lord Kamo! Get off of him!” You yell, attempting to grab his attention.

He either ignores you or just does not hear, as he continues to fight and wrestle with the Earl. You move closer, grabbing onto Choso, attempting to pull him off the other man.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?!” You shout, pulling with all your might.

He merely pushes you off, focused on one thing and one thing only. 

Breaking Lord Geto’s face in.

Lord Nanami and Prince Gojo push through the crowd then, the latter’s jaw dropping at the scene in front of him. They both rush forward, grabbing one arm each, and yanking him away from the Earl.

“Get off of me!” Choso shouts, deep and gravelly.

“You fucking freak! How dare you lay hands on me?!” Lord Geto spits.

“I am the freak?! I am the freak?! You are a disgrace! Get off of my property before I call someone to have you removed!” He yells in return.

Choso still continues to struggle in the other men’s grasp, nearly breaking free until Nanami steps in.

“I lack context, but you need to calm down. Now.” Nanami hisses, taking into account the large number of eyes watching.

“Fuck that!” Choso barks.

You stagger backwards, feeling your heart slowly fall to your feet. 

This is not happening right now. It cannot be. Eso breaks through the crowd then, going to speak to his brother. There are whispers all around you. Snide comments, shocked expressions. 

Lord Geto is helped off the ground by a few of the men, blood trickling down his face from the multiple cuts scattered across.

“You are going to regret this, you fucking monkey.” He grits out.

He sees you then. His sneer only deepens. The second he takes a step towards you, you run.

You turn on your heel, pushing through the crowd, making your way outside through the back entrance. When you make it out, you dry heave, both from exertion and the stress of the situation. Tears roll down your face at the implications of what this means for you. For him.

A call of your name rings out from behind you.

“No, do not come near me!” You gasp, corset feeling much too tight.

Choso, to his credit, looks genuinely frazzled. He has a split lip from the altercation, blood smeared across his face and the back of his hand. 

“Listen, I-”

“No! Do you have any idea of what you have just done?” You say, voice trembling.

“I know, I know, I am-”

“In what universe is it a splendid idea to get into a fist fight with my betrothed?! Please, explain that to me!” You angrily spit.

“He was speaking ill of you! I could not let him simply walk away from that!” Choso yells in return.

“You should have just let him! Once my parents catch wind of this situation, do you understand what will happen?! I will… “ You sob, body folding in half with the force of it, “I will never be allowed to speak to you or any of your brothers again!”

Choso paces, running his hands over his face.

“We will… we will figure something out.” He says, attempting to rationalize.

“Like what?! Enlighten me on how you are going to fix this, because you cannot! You should have just let him do whatever he wanted! Technically he is allowed to, according to the Ton, as he is my betrothed.” 

“I do not regret it!” He shouts, pointing his finger in the direction of Geto, “You did not hear the positively disgusting things he was spouting!”

“Why do you care? You do not even like me. ” 

“Wha- when did I-” He asks, outraged.

“After that night, you ignored me. It is obvious that you regret it, so spare me from your false explanations. I understand.”

He stares at you, a shocked expression on his face.

“You say you want to defend my honour, but who was the one who defiled it first, Choso? Is this some form of guilt for the other night?” You ask, defeated.

“No! I…” He trails off, words dying out.

You scoff, running a hand over your head, frustrated.

“Just leave me be.” You murmur.

You keep walking, headed back to your estate, where you can be alone. Choso watches you go, and does not move to stop you. He turns to go back inside.

You figured he would.

—

Choso walks into his office, running his hands over his face. Eso comes in fast behind him, slamming the door. The moment he turns around, he speaks.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Eso asks accusingly.

“I do not know, Eso. If I did, I would not be in this situation.” Choso replies, slamming his body into his chair.

The guests have long since left, the night ruined after the fight at the front entrance. People began to filter out rather quickly after that, whispering gossip in their wake.

“All you had to do was keep it together for one night, brother! One!”

“He was not supposed to be here.” Choso grumbles.

“I am very aware. It could have been handled civilly, like proper men. You could have asked him to leave even once!” 

“You did not hear what he was saying, Eso.” Choso says, voice darkening.

“Then tell me, brother. Help me understand what is going through your head.” 

“He was speaking of defiling her. About all the disgusting and filthy things he would do to her, whether she wanted them or not.” Choso grits out, as if the words pain him.

—

“-And he was hitting him, repeatedly.” You say, voice trembling.

Your maid, carrying a bucket of warm water, begins to wash you off in the tub. You struggle to choke down the persistent lump in your throat since the night’s earlier events. 

“Is that not a good thing?” Your maid asks.

“... I cannot say I had no satisfaction in it.” You say, face hot.

“So what is the issue then, my lady?” She questions.

You sigh, watching the way the water ripples around your bare body. 

“Once Mother finds out about this, if she has not already, she will forbid me from seeing the Kamos anymore. I will…” You sniffle, choking down your emotions, “... I will not see them.”

She hums, leaning your head back and running the water over your scalp.

“And that saddens you?”

“Yes.”

“That you will not be able to see all of them?” She asks.

You turn to her confused.

“What do you mean?” 

“Is the duke included in that list?” 

You pause, slowly turning back to face forward in the tub. 

“I… I do not know.”

Suddenly you feel the urge to spill everything and anything to your maid. Everything that you have been keeping locked up, with no one to speak to about it.

And you do.

—

“I am not disagreeing with you that he deserved it, but why has it got you so worked up?” Eso questions.

“I could not allow someone who Yuuji cares about so deeply to be spoken of in such a way.” Choso states.

Eso stares at him dumbly. He then sits down, putting his head in his hands.

“You are impossible.” He mutters.

“God, Eso, what is your problem now?” Choso groans.

“You are trying to tell me that attacking him had nothing to do with how you feel about her?” 

“I do not feel any way about her.”

“Nothing. You feel absolutely nothing. No hate, no affection, just absolutely void of any opinion? Eso asks, near deliriously.

Choso suddenly goes very, very quiet. Eso waits, tension suddenly building.

“... I need to tell you something.” Choso suddenly says.

Eso, who is already close to being at a breaking point, merely sighs.

“What is it?” He mutters, exasperated.

“... I…” Choso clears his throat, running a hand through his loosened hair, “... I dishonored her.”

Eso stares.

“Elaborate.”

Choso groans.

“Do not make me say it.”

“You are going to say it.”

“I… I kissed her. Also her neck. And maybe pressed against her.”

Eso stares once more.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

—

“He did what to you?!” Your maid asks, appalled.

“Do not make it sound so scandalous. We just… interlocked lips. That is it.” You reply.

“Good god.” Your maid murmurs, scrubbing your arms.

“It does not matter anyways. He regrets it. Apologized and said as much.” You say.

Your maid raises an eyebrow at you.

“And do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Regret it?” 

You open your mouth to speak your first instinct, which is yes, absolutely, but something makes you stop. Your hesitation speaks volumes more than your words, and your maid sighs.

“Oh, my dear.” She murmurs.

“No, I do. I do not even like him. He is stubborn, argumentative, and a pain in my arse. I cannot have a single conversation with him without some form of bickering. I hate him.” You say, suddenly irritated.

Your maid takes it in stride.

“I am sure.” She simply states.

—

“I do not know what came over me that night. I do not even like her. She drives me insane.” Choso gripes.

“Well, clearly you have to like her to some degree.” Eso says.

“No, I do not. It does not matter, it was a small mishap. I apologized to her, she accepted, and now we will go on with life.” He states with finality.

“Small? Small? This is monumental brother, and a serious issue. God, I wish you did not tell me, now I am wrapped up in this scheme as well.”

“You exaggerate. It is not a scheme.”

“You should have married her then and there.” Eso quips.

Choso barks out a laugh.

“Me and her? That’s hilarious. No, we have worked it out, and it will never be spoken of again. I doubt she will ever speak to me about anything ever again.”

“Because of her parents?”

“Because she despises me.”

Eso is going to lose it.

—

“I have not seen him so angry before.” You murmur, stepping out of the tub.

“The duke?” Your maid asks.

“Yes, but also Lord Geto. It was… frightening. I am finding it hard to adjust to the idea that I am marrying a man that I fear.” You confess.

Your maid brings a towel, drying you off.

“Sometimes, my lady, this is how things are for women in the Ton. Married off like cattle to whoever your elders choose. I know you are strong, though, and I am certain you will persevere.” 

You nod softly, allowing her to drape the towel around you.

“He is a monster, that man. I dread the idea of spending the rest of my life with him. He told me that after we marry, he was going to move me far from the Ton. I will have no one.”

“I will be there with you every step of the way, my lady. He will not get rid of me. I will stay by your side.”

You smile, giving her a hug.

“Thank you.” You say earnestly.

“Of course…” She replies, trailing off.

You raise an eyebrow at her questioningly. She shifts back and forth.

“Nothing, just… thinking.”

“Mind sharing?” You ask.

“Have you ever thought about… marrying the duke instead?”

“Over my dead body.”

—

“So what now?” Eso asks his brother.

Choso rests his head in his hands, staring out the window. From his chair, he can see your estate. 

“I do not know. It is likely that we will not see her for the foreseeable future. I must… explain to Yuuji.” Choso winces.

Eso hums, leaning back.

“That is unfortunate. I rather liked her.”

“Well, I am glad someone in this house does.”

“Brother.” Eso warns.

Choso sighs. 

“Apologies. I am not myself lately.”

“I can tell. Everything you have told me tonight is… very unlike you, to say the least.” Eso replies.

Choso stares out the window once more. The trees sway, the moon bright in the sky. He comes to a decision, then.

“I think I will go speak to her.” Choso says.

Eso snorts, until he realizes that his older brother is in fact very serious.

“How do you reckon that will bode over well?” Eso asks.

“It will not. She’s hardly agreeable.”

Eso rolls his eyes.

“However,” Choso continues, “I feel guilty. I keep inserting myself into things that I should not, and it has had an effect on her life. As a gentleman, it is my duty to apologize. I do not know the next time I will be able to.”

“That is noble of you, brother. I wish you luck tomorrow.” Eso says, standing out of his chair.

“No, I think I will go right now.” Choso murmurs, shooting up.

“Now?! It’s the middle of the night!”

Eso stares dumbfounded at Choso as he walks out of the door, on a warpath to his neighbour’s estate.

“Brother!” He yells out.

He does not respond, already long gone. Exasperated, Eso pulls a bottle of scotch from the cabinet.

It is going to be a long night.

—

You sit in the chair of your vanity, naked, squeezing the last bit of dampness out of your hair with a rag. 

You are glad to have had the conversation with your ladies maid. It was necessary, and you feel a weight lifted off your chest now that you know you are not dealing with this all alone anymore.

Taking your earrings out, you place them in a small dish on the top of your vanity. All your fine jewelry is laid out, sparkling under the low lamp light. You stand, walking over to the large window in your room. You can see the Kamo estate.

You sit on your ledge, body facing outside. 

You wish to be there.

Life is easier when you are in that house. You do not have to think, nor worry about the life you are soon destined to live. You are just a girl there. The people in that house see you, truly. Well, all those except the duke.

Slightly chilled, you take a blanket and hold it to your chest. 

It is then that you hear noise outside your bedroom.

It is hushed. Quiet, but carries the unmistakable back and forth of bickering. Who on earth is outside your door at this hour?

Before you can think deeply about it, the door is swung open, a body being pushed through.

“I said I am going, you witch-”

You pause, stunned into silence.

The duke stands at your door, looking from what is supposedly your ladies maid to your form. 

Your very naked form. 

You can see the gears turning in his head as he processes the situation, the door slamming shut behind him. A large blush breaks out across his face, and he immediately turns around. Your own face burns hot, rushing to cover up the rest of your body with the sheet.

“What the hell are you doing in here?!” You whisper yell.

“I apologize, I came by to apologize- and your maid, she led me here, I just assumed-” He stammers.

You groan, putting your head in your hands.

Of course she would pull something like this. That conniving, scheming woman.

“It is fine, my lord. Just… say whatever it is you came here to say so you may leave.” You say, gritting your teeth.

He stands, still staring at the door he entered from. 

“... May I turn around?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment. You are covered up by a blanket. Nothing is on display. He has seen you in night attire before, and the blanket covers up more. It should be fine, right?

“You may.”

He obliges, turning to face you once more. A blush is still evidently dusted on his cheeks, yet he does not break eye contact.

“I wanted to apologize for my behaviour this evening. With some time to reflect, I feel it could have been handled more appropriately. I apologize.” He says.

He sounds earnest. He always does.

“It feels like all you do is apologize, my lord.” You tease.

He chuckles softly.

“I do not really feel like myself around you. I behave differently, less controlled. It is not very gentlemanly of me, and I apologize for that as well.” He concedes.

You hum.

“I accept your apology. Although the ones you really should be apologizing to are my parents. That is, if you do wish to see me around the estate.”

“So if I avoid them will you stop invading our house?” He grins.

You scoff, attempting to hide your own smile.

“No promises, my lord.” You reply.

The duke looks around your room for a moment, eyes landing on a book sitting on your bed. He walks over to it casually, picking it up and observing it.

“Antoine Lavoisier?” He asks, surprised.

“I am trying to expand my knowledge to fields other than philosophy as of late. I will admit, however, chemistry is still something that my mind struggles to comprehend.” You confess.

“It is certainly not an easy subject.” He muses, flipping through the pages.

“You know of it?” You ask.

He makes a noise of acknowledgement.

“In university. I was studying for my doctorate in biological sciences before my father passed.” He says wistfully.

“I did not know you had completed so much schooling.” You reply, mildly surprised.

“I would have completed more. I would have gone on forever, if I could. I love to learn, and I adore science even more. I just wish sometimes that I… had more time with it. Before all this business I must now handle.”  He confesses to you.

Saddened, you stand from your seat on the ledge. Your feet tap on the floor as you walk over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“There are still opportunities. Lectures to attend, laboratories to visit. Perhaps you should ease off the business occasionally. It may do you some good.” You say.

He shakes his head.

“I cannot. My brothers need my support for their studying, not the other way around. It is a small sacrifice that I choose to make every day for them.” He states.

Your hand moves along his shoulder, brushing the loose hairs at the nape of his neck.

“You are rather selfless, my lord. Too selfless for your own good.” You murmur.

He turns to glance at you then, giving your figure a slow once over. You look up at him, his face illuminated by the yellow candle in the corner. 

Your blanket had shifted when you stood, exposing the length of your collar bone. His eyes focus on it, an expression falling upon his face that you have only seen once before.

That night.

“My lord?” You whisper.

He closes the book in his hands, amber eyes gazing upon your face. You can feel the way his chest rises and falls, the hand on his skin suddenly feeling too warm. 

“Choso. It is always Choso to you.” He murmurs softly. 

Your breathing picks up, hitches in the back of your throat. You can feel your heart begin to pump quicker. It makes your chest shudder with the weight of it. He puts the book down carefully on the bed, turning to you.

His hand reaches out to brush your face, and he hesitates. Begins to pull his hand back before you grab it, placing his hand on your cheek. You nuzzle into it, reveling in the warmth of his bare skin.

His hand traces downwards, and you lead it lower, lower, until his fingers are grazing the front of the blanket. He is a simple finger flick away from opening the blanket, exposing you to him.

“I cannot do this to you again.” He breathes, voice conflicted.

“Then do not.” You reply.

He does not move away. His hand lands on your bare chest, feeling your heartbeat underneath your ribcage. He places his forehead against your own, his eyebrows pulled tight. Like he is desperately trying to resist temptation. Your lips brush against his, softly, barely a whisper of a touch. 

“Choso…”

A loud knock on the door breaks you out of your reverie. Your father calls out your name, and panic seeps into your very core. 

You curse, looking around, trying to find somewhere to hide the duke. He looks as well, appearing just as panicked as you are. You think about under the bed, but it’s too visible. Your closet is too full. You then realize another way.

The window.

You run over to it, opening it up. There are vines that work their way up your house, close to your window. The perfect escape.

“Here!” You whisper.

He turns to you, gobsmacked when he sees what you are implying.

“Are you crazy?!” He whispers back.

Your father calls out your name once more, and that seems to move him into action. He crouches, exiting your room through the window. You watch him climb down the vines, only looking away when he reaches the bottom.

You throw on a nightgown, running to the door, and opening it for your father.

“Father.” You greet, trying to hide your sweating.

“We need to speak.” He says sternly.

You know exactly what the conversation is about, and it happens to be the man who just left your bedroom in a panic.

How could this happen again?

════════════════════

a/n: 8k words what a doozy

“Old bandmate. He left to join his loser younger brother’s group.” Sukuna says.

“Sukuna has mad issues with the kid.” Toji quips, taking out his lighter.

“I don’t. I just think he’s a fucking pussy.” Sukuna grins.

“Whatever, man. You’re a dick.” Toji replies with a smile of his own.

You’ve long zoned out on their conversation, just watching him. Observing his movements. He had a joint hanging from his lips, the dark rings around his eyes making him look impossibly tired. The black eyeliner doesn’t help either.

“I’m going to piss.” You say suddenly, standing up.

“Don’t fucking care.” Sukuna says, taking the blunt from Toji.

You roll your eyes, entering the crowd of university students that are far too drunk for how early it is. The speakers are loud, your heartbeat moving with the sound of the music. Your head is hazy.

While you attempt to look for the mystery man, you lose track of him. You sigh, choosing to find a corner and smoke instead. It wasn’t worth it. It means nothing. You pull down your tiny dress when you find it.

You pull out your pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and sticking it in your mouth. You attempt to light it, flicking the dial on the lighter repeatedly. Nothing happens.

You huff in frustration.

A lighter appears in front of your face, lit and glowing, and you gratefully move forward to stick your cig over it.

“Thanks.” You murmur, turning to the face behind the hand.

It ends up being him.

“You’re Sukuna’s girl.” He says. A statement.

“Can’t say I know who you are.” You tell him, voice raised over the music.

“Didn’t expect you to.” He replies.

His voice is gravelly, deep. Rough with use and cigarette smoke. He smells like it too, all leather and spice.

“What’s your name?” You ask, pulling the cig out of your mouth. You lean back on the wall for support.

“Choso.” He says around his blunt.

“Choso…” You parrot, tasting the name on your tongue. “What are you doing in a place like this, baby?” 

“Brother likes to party.” He drawls, eyes lidded.

“And you don’t?” You ask, amused.

He shakes his head, but you already knew the answer. He’s shy, doesn’t say much, his words few but carrying a certain finality about them. You knew this wasn’t his scene from the moment he walked into the house looking around uncomfortably.

“Sukuna says you’re in a band.” You tell him.

He raises an eyebrow.

“So you did know who I was?” He asks with a lazy grin.

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you turn away.

“No.”

He chuckles softly.

“Yes, I’m in a band.”

“You a bassist?”

“Drummer.”

And that image fills your core with a heat so strong it catches you off guard.

“You ever played?” He asks.

“Nah. Never got the opportunity.” You reply.

The truth really being that Sukuna never allowed you to.

“Even though you’re dating a lead? Bummer.” He tells you, moving a step closer. “I can teach you sometime.”

He towers over you, and you have to look up to meet his eyes. He gives you a slow once over, and you have to resist the shudder that runs down your spine. Choso takes a sip from his red solo cup, still keeping his eyes on you.

“We’re not dating.” You say, suddenly feeling the need to specify, “But yeah. I’d like that.”

You say it with a stupid smile on your face.

What you and Sukuna had was exclusive only for you. He was allowed to go out and fuck whoever he wanted, but god forbid you do the same. The one time you did out of spite, he beat the shit out of the guy so bad he was hospitalized for a week. You try not to repeat it.

You’re half expecting him to leave when he finds out. That the thrill of hitting on someone who’s dating an enemy wears off, leaving no adrenaline in its wake.

He doesn’t.

After an hour of conversation, he pulls you upstairs, pushing into the bathroom and locking the door behind you. 

He’s on you immediately, pulling you in for a nasty makeout. It’s rushed, sloppy. You wouldn’t ask for anything less. He tastes like cheap vodka and weed, but the way his tongue moves is divine. You run your hands across the expanse of his neck, nails raking.

You giggle as he lifts you onto the bathroom counter, dropping you down onto it and falling to his knees. 

“Slutty little dress…” He murmurs, pushing up the bottom and exposing your wet panties.

You whine, and he rips them off your body. He spreads your legs, groaning when he gets a look at your waiting pussy.

“So fuckin’ perfect. Knew she would be.” Choso says, leaning down for a taste.

He licks all the way up your slit, and you buck when his tongue slides over your clit, soft and slow. He nuzzles his face in it, and you can feel his breath against you. He stays there, savouring it.

“Choso, please.” You moan impatiently.

“You want it, baby? Tell me how much you want me to eat this sweet little pussy.” He grins lazily.

For someone so quiet, you weren’t expecting him to be such a talker. You’re not complaining, though. You can hear his voice better in the quiet of the bathroom, the bass of the music a distant sound. It’s hot, and you can feel yourself getting wetter just by his words.

“Fuck, Cho, I want you so bad. Please eat me out!” You squirm.

He obliges, satisfied with your begging. Choso spreads your lips with his thumbs, taking a proper look. Embarrassed, you try to hide your face, and he chuckles.

“Don’t be shy, baby. S’the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” 

He spits on it, then licks a stripe up your pussy. He gives your clit a sweet kiss. Lazily, he wraps his lips around it, suckling gently. As if he’s enjoying the moment as much as possible. You sigh, throwing your head back against the wall. 

He eats like he’s made for it, licking and sucking along your most sensitive areas. Choso enters his tongue inside you, moaning openly at the wetness dripping down his chin. It’s good, but it’s not enough. It leaves you craving something else big to fill you up.

He latches onto your clit, sucking and shaking his head repeatedly. He barely gives himself room to breathe, so focused on sucking your wet cunt.

“Choso, god, fuck! Feels so good!” You cry out for him.

“That’s it, baby, scream my name.” He murmurs into your pussy.

You wrap your hands around his pigtails, using them as handlebars. You need something to grip onto. The edibles you took with Sukuna are starting to hit, your head hazy and feeling like it’s filled with cotton balls. Every touch feels electric, amplified up to one hundred.

The feeling is intense. Sukuna doesn’t eat girls out. Doesn’t believe in it. You don’t remember the last time you had your pussy ate, but it definitely didn’t feel like this. He licks all over, doing swirls and shit with his tongue.

You buck your hips against him when he sucks your clit particularly hard, and a hand comes up, wrapping around your hip and pressing on your stomach to hold you down.

You’re dripping, all your wetness being lapped up by an eager Choso. He maneuvers to slip a finger inside, focusing all his attention on your clit. His fingers are thick, much bigger than your own. He enters it until your entrance is just brushing against his ring. You let out a whimper, overcome with pleasure.

“More, more!” You moan.

He fucks you with his finger, long and deep. He curls up to press against your g-spot, and you swear you see stars. He flicks his tongue over your clit, staring up at you. He gauges your reactions, and you maintain eye contact, not wanting to back down.

He looks good like this, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy. In between your legs.

He slips in another finger, now fucking you with two. You can see the way his muscles move under his mesh shirt, and you clench around him. He moans, feeling your tight pussy flutter around his fingers.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweet girl.” He purrs.

Your pussy squelches while he finger fucks you, and a grin stretches across his face.

“Hear that? Fuck, she’s talking to me.” He groans, reveling in the sounds your cunt is making.

You grab his pigtails hard, pulling him up towards your face.

“Hurry up and fuck me already.” You hiss.

Obediently, he rushes to take off his belt, fumbling slightly with the anticipation. He undoes his jeans, pulling out his cock. It’s massive, flushed tip leaking with pre. You eye the veins going up the side, wondering what it’s going to feel like inside you.

“Don’t have a condom.” Choso rasps.

“Don’t care.” You reply.

You grab him by the base, pulling him closer and running his tip through your folds. He bites his lip as you push him inside your waiting cunt.

The both of you sigh with relief. You lean your head back once more, adjusting to the big stretch. Choso, on the other hand, is locked into the sight of every inch entering you. He hits resistance, and you whimper.

“Just relax for me, baby. Almost there, just a little more.” He coos.

You try to force your muscles to unclench, and he pushes in another inch, causing you to cry out.

“Choso! Please, s’full!” You slur.

He enters you fully, pushing in the last few inches with a drawn out ‘Gooood girl’. You groan, fully filled to the brim.

“Look at that, baby. You took all of it, it’s all gone.” He murmurs adoringly.

And gone it is. You’re genuinely surprised it all fits, fluttering around him when you see how wide he has you stretched. He rocks his hips gently, shallowly, testing the waters.

“God, so fucking tight.” He grits out.

The drag of him along your walls is heaven, his fat cock hitting all the deepest spots inside you. Once he thinks you’re ready for it, he pulls all the way out, pushing right back in. You gasp, and he continues to fuck you with long, deep strokes.

“Oh, Choso!” You cry, voice wobbling.

“Yeah? You like when I fuck you nice and deep?” He groans huskily.

You nod your head frantically, words leaving you. He pushes your legs all the way up until your knees are touching the wall behind you. It gives him a full view of his cock inside you.

There’s already a layer of cream collecting at his thick base, the squelch of your pussy loud as you take him repeatedly. He reaches down, rubbing your clit with his thumb. You gasp, not expecting it.

You nearly scream as he picks up speed, throat raw from all the noise leaving your lips. The bathroom counter digs into your back, and you can’t even feel it with how fucking good it feels.

“Fuck baby, your cock is so big!” You moan, looking up at him with parted lips.

“Hah, so wet and warm. Shit… s’good.” He says.

His eyebrows are pulled together, head thrown back. You have the sudden urge to kiss him. You pull him down, locking lips. It’s messy, it’s nasty, and he tastes like your pussy juice. You love it.

His strokes are long, and you suddenly feel extremely overstimulated. You feel your release coming whether you like it or not.

“Yeah, you gonna cum all over my cock, pretty girl? Shit, I can feel it coming.” He grits out.

“Cho, m’gonna cum!” You cry.

Tears slip down your cheeks, so overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through your veins. He rips your orgasm right out of you, forcing it to the surface. You do scream this time, voice raw as your cunt clenches around him hard.

He fucks you through it, gritting his teeth and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You’re so dizzy you nearly pass out, barely holding on. Your hands are around his neck, holding onto him desperately.

He keeps going. Keeps fucking you at that fast, hard pace. Your nerve endings are on fire, beyond overstimulated. His thrusts start to waver, but he holds strong, fighting his own impending orgasm.

“Shit, fuck, so tight! Want you to cum again. Want to feel it, I need it.” He moans.

You don’t even know if it’s possible for you to cum again after the first one. You’ve never done it twice so close to each other. Your bottom lip trembles, weak whimpers leaving your throat. No one has ever been this deep inside you.

Your pussy is loud, squelching and creaming around him. He’s still rubbing your clit, timing it with his deep strokes. Against your better wishes, you feel an extreme pressure in your core.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. Give it to me.” He murmurs, deep and rough.

Your nails run down his back, clawing onto anything you can get your hands on. Tears are running down your face now, no doubt taking your mascara with it. You breathe deeply, heavily. The pressure is different. Not like normal.

It scares you, and you attempt to let him know.

“No, Choso, something- something’s wrong! Feels different!” You whine.

As if he knows what’s about to happen, he speeds up. Your body bounces against the counter, and he pulls the top of your dress down to expose your tits. He groans when they fall, wrapping his lips around a nipple and sucking. 

He watches your face, waiting to see the moment where you finally fall apart. It’s too much. The pressure builds, and builds, until your orgasm hits you so hard it physically burns. You’re moaning, and you can’t even hear your own voice. You feel an unusual amount of liquid leaving you, and you look down to see your cunt squirting all over him.

While the humiliation settles into you, Choso looks like he’s just visited heaven. His thrusts become sloppy, the wet squelching filling the bathroom.

“Wish I could drop my load in this pussy, wanna cream it so bad. Want to fill you up.” He groans.

You pull him off your tits, holding him forehead to forehead.

“Then do it.” You slur, eyes lidded.

His eyes close then, chasing pleasure that’s at the tip of his fingers.

“Oh, fuck, I’m cumming. I’m gonna cum.” He moans, head thrown back.

You wrap your legs around him, holding him deep inside you.

“Cum in me, Cho.” You whisper, a sleepy, fucked out smile on your face.

He stills, groaning unashamedly. You can feel his cock twitching, and the feeling of his cum filling up your waiting pussy.

“That’s it, fill me up baby.” You coo, running a hand through his hair.

He grinds his molars, still cumming, letting out the very last few spurts. When he finishes, he pulls out. He watches the way his cum drips out of you, and pushes it back in. You whimper, and he leans down to get a taste of your combined juices.

When he comes back up, a lazy grin on his face, you know you’re completely and utterly fucked.

—

Limping, and on cloud nine, you walk through the crowd once more.

You’re looking for Sukuna. 

You see him, on the exact same couch you left him on. When he spots you, his face immediately pulls into a frown. You walk up, slow and steady. You can feel some of Choso’s cum leaking down your leg.

“Where the fuck have you be-”

“We’re done, dickhead.”

════════════════════════════════════════════

Choso laughs an outraged, broken laugh.

“The issue with that, dear brother, is that she lied to me. She told me she was done speaking with him, I was rather happy to hear it, and now they are engaged.” Choso has his head in his hands, pushing his loose hair back.

Eso, rather done with the conversation, chooses to instead humor his older brother.

“Brother, you are truly smart, but also an awful idiot sometimes.” He simply states.

Choso gawks, not used to pushback from his younger siblings. He points a shaky finger at Eso.

“You… you… I ought to-”

“Think deeply about this, brother. I will not make the connection for you. Discover why you are so upset about this matter.”

Choso, now the confused one, slowly lowers his hand.

“What? I just told you, she lied to me.” 

“Perhaps she did, perhaps she did not. But I do not think that is the only reason you are disturbed by this piece of information.” Eso claims.

“What else could possibly be upsetting me, Eso. Please explain.” Choso states, walking around the room, “God, and you call me the idiot.”

Eso sighs, closing his newspaper.

“One day, brother, you’ll see what the rest of us already do. Maybe not Yuuji, but he is not the brightest. The rest of us, however, are not so blind.” Eso cryptically tells Choso.

“Eso, I do not know what is going on with you, but I do not have time for this. I must figure out what is going through that foolish woman’s head.” He says, standing up and putting his suit jacket on.

He strides out of the door, a man on a mission. Eso, still seated, watches him go with a small shake of his head.

He’s rather done with this whole thing, and he has a feeling in his gut that this situation won’t be over anytime soon.

—

Choso knocks on the door of your estate fervently, waiting impatiently for the butlers to answer. When they do, he immediately requests your presence.

“I need to see her. Now.” Choso says sternly.

He is invited in, and he waits in the lobby of your home, pacing back and forth. He stares at whatever catches his attention, hoping to find something to pass the time with.

Your home is bright and airy. Baby blue walls adorned with paintings of greenery and joy. He recognizes one of the paintings hanging as one you did yourself. He hears footsteps from the top of the staircase, and swivels around to only be met with your mother. 

She slowly walks down, acknowledging his presence with a stern once over.

“Duke Kamo, what a surprise! What graces us with your presence?” She says, voice gravelly.

Impatiently, Choso shuts her down.

“I am here to see your daughter.”

Your mother laughs, and it fills him with heated annoyance.

“I thank you for your time, Duke Kamo, but I am afraid we are no longer accepting suitors as of now.”

Choso pauses, a blush creeping down his face. He stutters, not expecting his presence to be misinterpreted this way.

“I… I apologize, my lady, but that was not my intention. I simply seek to speak with her about her recent engagement.” He states firmly.

“Ah, yes! Such a joyous affair, is it not?” She chuckles.

“Respectfully, I-”

“Lord Kamo?” 

Your voice echoes from the top of the stairs behind your mother, and his eyes leave her immediately. You’re underdressed, in a mere nightgown and barefoot, like you were caught off guard. Your hair is mused like you just woke up, and his chest pulls tight.

“My lady.” He greets, bending into a soft bow.

“What on earth are you doing here looking like that?! Get back inside, now!” Your mother scolds loudly.

Choso, rather sick of your mother, immediately opens his mouth to defend you. Instead, you sigh, walking down the stairs past her.

“It’s fine, Mother. ‘Tis just the Duke. Go back inside, I will be with you shortly.” You plead.

Choso watches you come down, the sun draping down around you through the window. It is almost like a halo, he finds. Taking in your words, he feels an innate sense of satisfaction that you feel comfortable enough to be so vulnerable around him, and that you’re willing to disobey your mother to display it.

Your mother, clearly aggravated by your rebellion, huffs. She stomps her way back inside, no doubt to complain to her husband.

His satisfaction is short-lived. You turn to face him, and you look absolutely exhausted. There are dark circles under your eyes that were not present the last time he saw you, your eyes the variety of swollen that only comes from hours of crying.

“What is it that you require, my lord?” You ask softly.

He gapes for a moment, unsure of how to approach the topic. His previously practiced approach that was basically entirely on the offensive slips his mind completely.

“I’m here about your engagement.” He decides on.

“Ah. That.” You chuckle humourlessly. 

“You cannot seriously be thinking about marrying him. I thought you were past this. We just spoke about how you were done with him!” Choso says, the hurt seeping through into his words.

“Indeed.”

“So, what, you lied? Were you speaking with him this whole time?”

You laugh again, tone more bitter this time.

“I did not lie. I was under the impression he understood we were not to speak any longer. I was wrong.”

“So what, that’s it, then? You just get married off to him like cattle?”

“You act like I have a choice in the matter. Why do you care anyways? This has nothing to do with you!” You angrily spit.

“It has everything to do with me!” He shouts back.

“Oh, god, please explain that to me. You told me a while back that I was scaring away suitors. Is that what this is about? You being wrong in your assumptions?!” 

“My brother cares about you, which means by extension, I-” He breathes through his nose, calming himself, “Which means that I need to look out for your wellbeing. I cannot do that if you are marrying a man as despicable as him.”

“You think I do not know that he is despicable? I despise him! You always do this.” You groan, running a hand over your face.

“Do what?”

“Pick a fight with me over everything! You’re insufferable. Is that all you came here to do? Argue with me?” 

“No! I came here to try to convince you to end your engagement, but it always has to be a fight with you apparently!” 

Choso leaves out the part that he’s trying to do this for your own good, because for some reason, he’s uncomfortable with admitting that he cares. Aggravated, you bite back.

“And I am trying to tell you, my lord, I can’t. That’s your problem, you just don’t listen to me!”

“You can, you are just choosing not to fight for it!”

“I have fought my whole life for freedom and it has surmounted to absolutely nothing. So no, I won’t fight, because nothing will come of it!” You yell, pointing a finger at him as if this is somehow his fault.

“Do you even know about his past? He’s killed people. Do you understand the gravity of what that means?” Choso says, nearly begging you.

“It does not matter. None of it matters. It’s over.” You state, voice gradually decreasing in volume.

“Are your standards really that low that you would accept spending the rest of your life with a monster?! What happened to wanting a man that was at least kind?! You would be happy to be by his side forever without even attempting otherwise?”

Silence. It’s sudden, eerie, and Choso finds himself nearly suffocated by it. His words seem to have finally broken you down.

You sniffle, and Choso’s anger drops to zero almost instantaneously.

“Just go. Leave.” You whisper. 

“Look,” He begins, “I am sorry I upset you, but I heavily implore you to think-”

“Leave!” You scream at him. “I wish to not see your face any longer! You’ve made your point, now go.”

He stops talking. Sees the state you’re in. Knows no good will come of trying to sway you now. With a slow nod, he turns to leave, walking towards the front door. Before he goes, he speaks once more. One final attempt.

“You would not be alone. There are people that are on your side. I am on your side.” He says softly, before opening the door and walking out.

He doesn’t look back.

—

The third ball of the season. It’s here, and it is at your estate.

The maids have been frantically preparing for days, making sure the entire property was pristine and presentable to the Ton. You personally have been doing nothing of the sorts.

You have not seen your husband-to-be since the arrangement, and you’re rather happy about it. It would be peaceful if your mother was not constantly talking about wedding preparations. No doubt, she will continue to talk about them tonight as well.

Your maids dress you. Emerald green is the colour of choice for your attire tonight, and you allow yourself to be dolled up like a porcelain doll. An inanimate object which will soon belong to a man you want nothing to do with.

You have felt the constant weight on your shoulder, body involuntarily preparing for the inevitable. Exhaustion wracks you. During a time which should be joyful, you are instead filled with an existential dread. You do not know why you’re so surprised. You have been expecting this outcome, anticipating to be married to a man you do not get along with. A man who does not truly care for you.

Perhaps you thought you had more time.

The guests begin to arrive, piling through the door one by one. You stand beside your mother near the entrance, welcoming the first few that come in. Wondering if the next person that leaves a carriage will be your betrothed.

“Do not be so down. Smile. There are people watching.” Your mother chides, still smiling at the guests that walk by.

Forcefully, a tense smile pulls across your cheeks.

You just want this whole nightmare to be over.

Eventually, you leave her side quietly, choosing to enter the dancefloor instead. If you were forced to be here anyways, why not enjoy some refreshments while you are at it?

“My lady!” A woman’s voice calls out.

You turn, not expecting the person you see. A friend that you have not seen for some time.

“Miwa! What a surprise. I have not seen you in ages.” You say with a smile.

She giggles, her earrings swaying back and forth.

“Indeed, it has been too long! How are you? I heard about your recent engagement! Congratulations, you deserve it.” She chirps.

You blink, forcing down the words you truly want to say. The unspoken truth sits like a heavy weight in your throat.

“Yes, thank you. I heard about your own marriage, how is your new husband?” You ask.

“Oh, Kokichi is wonderful! We are so in love, every day is another day to look forward to with one another.” She swoons, clasping her hands together.

You try not to be bitter. It’s not her fault. However, looking at her feels like a glimpse into the life you’ve always wanted, and now will never have. You smile, patting her elbow softly.

“That is amazing, Miwa. I’m so happy for you.” You tell her earnestly.

She continues to talk at you, and your line of vision wanders. While scanning the crowd absentmindedly, you lock eyes with the second last person you want to see right now.

Of course Duke Kamo is here as well. 

As soon as he sees you, he begins to walk towards you, and is stopped by another lord of the Ton. He looks irritated to be interrupted, and you would laugh if you weren’t so irate with him.

“We should have tea soon! You must come see Kokichi’s grounds, they are truly beautiful. We have the most lovely garden!” Miwa says excitedly.

“That sounds delightful, Miwa. Send me an invitation, I will definitely be there.”

The two of you separate with sincere goodbyes, and you go to grab another beverage. You push through the crowds of people, briefly apologizing. The band playing in the background plays happy and upbeat tunes, no doubt due to your mother’s good mood.

You whip out your fan, flicking it open and fanning yourself briefly. The summer has become hot.

Ladies in attendance of the ball continue to approach you throughout the night, congratulating you on your successful engagement so soon into the season. You thank each and every one of them with a kind smile, despite the fact that a part of you withers further and further every conversation you have about it.

You have never been one to socialize in large groups, but you suppose this is your life now. The life of a married woman, reduced to mere gossiping and being a visual piece for your husband’s vanity.

You notice that the men no longer approach you now that they know you are spoken for. It is funny how that works.

“Is something amusing you, darling?” 

And comes the appearance of the man you wish to see the least. Suguru Geto, in all his glory, has finally arrived and discovered your presence. You turn, a frown gracing your features.

“Oh. You are here.” You state matter-of-factly.

He chuckles.

“Well of course. I would never miss the opportunity to spend time with my beloved.” He smiles.

You don’t know how you were ever swayed by his smile. It’s sinister, cunning, and always has an undercurrent of mockery. You hate him. You hate him, loathe his very being. You scoff at him, placing your empty glass on a nearby tray.

“Beloved. Now that amuses me.” You sneer.

Chuckling, he swiftly moves forward, interlocking your arm with his own.

“Do not be so down, my dear. This is going to be a great union. You just have to become accustomed to your new status as my betrothed.” He says, forcing you to walk with him.

“I will never be accustomed to it. I despise you, Lord Geto.” You reply, face turned away from him.

“It’s Suguru now, my love.” He corrects, ignoring your last statement.

“It will be a cold day in hell before I ever call you Suguru.” You seethe.

“So quick witted. I wonder where you got that sharp tongue. Clearly not from your parents, who are so agreeable.” He continues, “But do not fret, my dear. You will call me Suguru soon enough.”

You can read through the lines and see the thinly veiled threat in his words.

“If you find my tongue so sharp perhaps you should not marry me.” You state.

“On the contrary, my dear. It is exactly why I want to marry you. Who will challenge me if not my wife?” He asks cheerfully.

“I think that is called an enemy, Lord Geto.” You snip.

“Is it not the same thing? Marriage, fighting, enemies. There is no marriage truly without flaw. I assume that with time, we will get over this bump in the road.” He says matter-of-factly.

“This bump in the road that you speak of, Lord Geto, is forcing me into a marital pact that I want nothing to do with. I want nothing to do with you. Why do you torture me so? Does it pleasure you?” You ask, the desperation you have been feeling for days beginning to seep into your words.

He laughs heartily. You loathe the sound.

“It has nothing to do with pleasure, my dear. It simply comes down to the fact that when I see something I want, I get it. And believe me, I have wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

Defeat. It settles deep into your bones. If there was any hope remaining inside you, it has long left. You come to the realization that this man has no intention of letting you go anytime soon. You are trapped, a fly in a spider’s web, waiting to be devoured. 

“You-”

“Suguru.”

Prince Gojo stands in front of you, a vision in all white. The man beside you smiles, and it makes you feel like you are missing out on some unspoken history that has never been disclosed.

“Satoru.”

“I hear you’re engaged. Mind if I dance with your betrothed?” The prince asks, voice light and airy.

Nervously, you look at Geto. His expression is unreadable, face void of any emotion. He ends up resuming his smiling, all pretendian and filled with sharp edges. You fully expect him to say no, despite not knowing anything about their past. 

“Of course not. My dear?” He says, looking at you.

You give a small nod, anxiously glancing up at the prince. Prince Gojo reaches out a hand, and you take it, letting him lead you to the dancefloor.

He holds you close, an arm wrapped around your waist. He lowers his head just enough to whisper in your ear.

“You need to be careful with him. Very careful.” The prince says.

You sigh tiredly.

“Yes, I am aware. You are not the first person to have this conversation with me.” You reply.

“I cannot stop you if this is what you choose, but I would not be able to live with myself if I did not at least try to change your mind.”

He spins you, and you come back to face him.

“”Tis not my mind you must change. It is my mother’s.” You tell him.

“An arranged marriage?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

You nod solemnly, and he hums introspectively.

“Now that is a shame. I would have expected better from the Viscount.”

“They do not care about me, they care about title. The status of Earl is more than enough to sway them from any rumors they may have heard about him.” You say, led across the dancefloor.

You look, and Geto is carefully watching you. Eyes unwavering, posture rigid. This, perhaps, is the first time you have ever seen him on edge. He does not blink.

“I can speak to them. Attempt to change their mind.” The prince says earnestly.

You laugh softly. Without humor.

“There is no point, unfortunately. To them, the threat of me not finding another is far greater than that of me being at his mercy.” 

“I am very sorry, then.” Prince Gojo states earnestly.

You’re surprised at his sudden sincerity, the in his voice making your eyes water slightly. You blink away the tears, instead focusing on the movement of your footsteps on the tile.

“What is your history with Lord Geto?” You ask, changing subjects.

“It is a long one, indeed.” He replies.

“We have time. The song is not yet over.” You say with a smile.

He chuckles, indulging you.

“He was my closest friend. My only friend, at a time. We were… inseparable. Everything we did we did together. One day, he started changing. He became distant, irritable. He looked more tired, walking around everywhere with a frown. I did not realize until it was too late.”

“Realize what, my lord?”

“That he was indulging in literature far beyond morally correct. Passages in books that spoke of greater humans and lesser beings. Content of class divide and the less educated. Once upon a time, believe it or not, he was a good man. He wanted to help people.” He says wistfully. “That was, until the day he stopped believing it was worth it.”

You stay silent, absorbing the new information provided by the prince. There is one question on the tip of your tongue, one that has been lingering on your mind for days.

“The Duke, he mentioned that Lord Geto has… killed people. Is this true?” You murmur, equally afraid to say the words as you are to hear the response.

“I highly suspect it. He was under the impression that his parents were uneducated beasts masquerading as the upper class. Shortly after, his estate went up in flames, the doors locking them in. I believe it was him. I always have.”

You nod slowly. The news that you may be engaged to a potential murderer is not settling easy with you.

“Thank you for being so candid with me, my lord. I know it could not have been easy for you.” 

“It is no matter to me. Somewhere deep down, I still have hope that one day he will change. Perhaps it will be you that initiates it.” He says.

“I cannot be so sure. He appears set in his beliefs. I have my own qualms with him and his hatred for others, and I can only wish that he does not speak about it with me. That is my single reprieve from this nightmare.” You confess.

“The best of luck then to you, darling. If you ever need help, or even a simple break, just call for me. I will be there. It is the least I can do.” The prince tells you.

The song finishes, and you both bow. You murmur a quick ‘thank you’, overwhelmed by his graciousness. 

When you turn to leave, you move in the opposite direction of your betrothed. He catches up to you. 

Forcefully, he grips your arm, and you flinch.

“My dear.” He says, voice sinfully sweet.

Your bottom lip trembles, and you force yourself to be composed before you face him. You cannot let him see you weak. If he does, god only knows how he will use it to his advantage.

“My lord.” You say, bowing slightly.

“Dance with me.” It is not a request.

You nod, and he wraps an arm around your waist, leading you to the floor. The happy music does not match the energy in the air between the two of you. It’s thick with tension, covered in a layer of mendacity. No one around you would be able to tell what is truly happening with the smile on Lord Geto’s face.

“Well? Did you enjoy your dance with the prince?” He says, voice carrying uncontained mockery.

“Yes, I did, actually. It was rather enlightening.” You reply smugly.

His eyebrow twitches. Possibly for the first time, you are getting under his skin.

“Enlightening? That is not the description I would have expected.” He feigns obliviousness.

“Well, it is the description I would use. Best friends? How sweet. I did not believe you were capable of friendship.” You jab with a smile.

The smile drops from his face. He’s no longer wearing his mask.

“Careful, love. You are treading onto dangerous territory.” He tells you, voice barely above a murmur.

His grip around your waist is tight, fingers painfully gripped around your corseted midsection. 

“You should get used to it, my lord. I do rather like living on the edge.” You reply. 

“I am starting to realize that. Well, I suppose I have the rest of my life to become accustomed, no? After all, we are soon to be bound for eternity.”

Eternity. An eternity with him sounds like the hell they only whisper about in the bible. You try to remain calm, and not be overcome with anxiety.

“Yes, well, perhaps I may become used to how intolerable you are. Although I highly doubt that.”

Lord Geto stares at you for a moment. Slowly and controlled, he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You just love being a fucking brat, don’t you?” He murmurs.

When the air leaves your lungs, it’s forceful and not at all gentle. You cannot control the way your eyes widen, nor the pounding of your heart in your ears. 

“I thought you were more of a… sophisticated woman, not like those monkeys you call friends. I thoroughly enjoyed our chatter about literature. Believed we were on the same page. Perhaps we are not.” He muses.

You bite your tongue at his choice of wording, despite the way it enrages you. What overcomes you more is panic.

“Then maybe you should forgo this farce of an engagement.” You reply, voice trembling.

“No…” He starts, an egregious smile creeping onto his cheeks.

“... I think I will just change you.”

—

Choso is struggling. As usual.

He had to show up to this event. He could not leave you alone with that monster of a man. Would not forgive himself if he did.

Honestly, he was surprised he even received an invitation after his run in with your mother a few days prior. He’s sure he did not leave the greatest impression of himself. Choso tries not to think about it too heavily.

From the moment he arrives, he looks for you. Yuuji is by his side, chatting indistinctively about anything that crosses his mind. He tries to respond when he can, despite his mind being elsewhere. His brother is distracted anyways the moment Kugisaki arrives. 

Time stops when he finally lays eyes on you.

As usual, everything about your outward appearance is pristine. Proper. You glimmer in this yellow lighting, dolled up no doubt by your maids. Not a thing about you is out of place. You are… perfect.

You don’t notice him at first, talking to a woman he does not recognize. Your eyes glaze over the crowd, finally landing on him. He ignores the feeling in his chest when you immediately frown at his presence. He begins to walk over to you, and is swiftly interrupted by Lord Okkotsu.

He grits his teeth and bears it, vowing to find you after. 

Lo and behold, thus begins a long night of the exact same situation over and over again.

Every time Choso is finally freed from a meaningless, empty conversation, he’s wrapped into another, stuck in an endless loop of talking to people he wants nothing to do with at the moment. Occasionally, he glances over to you, just to make sure of… something. He’s not too sure what.

Dread fills him when he looks at you and finds you talking with Lord Geto.

Realistically, he always knew he would be in attendance. He’s your betrothed. Something about seeing him, however, is different than imagining it. It enrages him.

Before he can get to you, Gojo interrupts your little tryst with Geto. He’s not sure whether to thank his lucky stars or Gojo for the break in conversation.

After your dance with the prince, he decides that then is the time to approach. Your betrothed finds you before he does.

All he’s left to do is watch. Watch you dance with Geto, filled with anger, bitterness, resentment. It consumes him, and he is unable to hide how unhappy it makes him. Nanami, who appeared beside him, places a hand on his shoulder. A show of understanding.

You started off the dance with Geto confident. He saw it in the way you carried yourself. High, high above Geto, above him, above everyone. It gave him some peace.

And slowly, after talking with him more, you begin to wilt, like a flower come autumn.

He hates it. You’re powerful. You’re confident, bold, and stubborn beyond belief. He is nearly unable to have a conversation with you without some form of bickering, because you refuse to take anything. He admires that about you.

With Geto, it’s like it all disappears. Everything that makes you who you are. Everything he looks upon with a sense of warmth.

And he loathes it. It envelops him with an anger he’s never felt.

Geto leans down, whispering in your ear. That seems to be the final blow.

Whatever he says, it leaves you in a clear daze for the rest of the dance. He hears Nanami calling his name, but it sounds so distant, so far beyond him. As soon as the song ends, you run.

He chases you. Geto does not.

When he does not find you anywhere on the premises, he has half a mind to go back in and kill Geto with his own two hands.

Whatever he said to you, it made you want to disappear.

You’re gone.

—

You lay in bed. It’s quiet.

Your parents have done you the honour of leaving you alone and ignoring the fact that you are still in bed this late. You did your duty as their daughter last night. That is all they needed from you.

The sheets are pulled up nearly to your chin, and your eyes feel like they are weighted. Your body is weak, limbs heavy. Likely case, you’ll end up in bed for the rest of the day. You have already skipped breakfast and lunch, why not dinner as well?

Geto had tried to make an appearance at your estate. You told your mother to leave at once when she relayed the information, and she disappeared in a huff. No doubt he stayed to have tea with your parents. You ignored his presence in your home. 

Sleep comes easily. Occasionally, your maid will peek her head in to check on you, and you dismiss her with a wave of her hand. 

“...I think I will just change you.”

You cannot breathe. Your chest hurts. You’re suffocating.

Your situation could not possibly get worse. 

You’re at the mercy of a man who does not even like you. Maybe, just maybe, if you had let him walk all over you, if you had submitted to him, he would not despise you so. Perhaps you would not be threatened with being forced into submission. 

When you think about allowing him to change the fundamentals of who you are, you think about Yuuji. You think about the Duke. The Kamos, who your betrothed- no, Geto, refuses to acknowledge based on the simple fact that Yuuji was not raised in the Ton. Yuuji, who is filled with nothing but kindness and love and youthful joy. 

You cannot concede. It goes against everything you believe in.

If he has to force you into submitting to him, so be it. At least you would not do it by choice.

“My lady.” Your maid calls from the door.

“What is it?” You ask, voice small.

“You have a visitor.” She replies.

You sigh, shifting in the bed slightly. You rub your eyes tiredly.

“Whoever it is, I do not wish to see them. Send them away. I wish to be alone.” You tell her.

“I apologize, but… he is right here, my lady. It would be untoward.”

You pause, turning towards the door.

Your maid is never allowed to bring people straight to your room. Your mother strictly forbids it. Who would she willingly bring to you?

You sit up in bed.

“Who?”

“I apologize for intruding, my lady.”

Ah.

“Duke Kamo.” You greet.

You push the sheets to the side, getting out of bed and giving a small polite bow. He bows his head slightly in response. The maid leaves, the two of you now alone in your bedroom.

“What can I do for you, my lord?” You ask, voice a little scratchy from unuse.

“I just came to check on you after last night. I did not have the chance to speak with you.” He says softly.

“I apologize, my lord. I was… preoccupied.” You decide on.

“I noticed.” He starts, “I also wanted to apologize for our argument the last time we spoke. My behaviour was unseemly. I am sorry.” 

You give him a small smile.

“No need, my lord. I apologize as well. I have not been myself lately.” An understatement.

Briefly, his eyes flicker over you. If you cared any more, you would be embarrassed at the state of your appearance. Sleep ridden, groggy, and in your nightgown. You would be embarrassed if it was anyone but Duke Kamo in front of you.

It helps indeed that he does not look displeased with what he sees.

“So, how are you?” He asks.

You sigh, voice wavering.

“Not well, if I am being honest-”

“Is it him? Did he hurt you?”

He speaks quickly, firmly. He seems appalled to even say the words, shoulders visibly pulled back, irritated. Like a cat ready to pounce at the slightest indication.

“That’s a quick assumption.” You laugh softly.

“Is it the truth?”

You pause.

“...Not physically, no.” You murmur.

“So he did hurt you, then.” He says, jaw clenched.

You choose not to respond, instead looking down at your feet, ashamed. Ashamed of what, you are unsure. 

The Duke walks up to you, close, closer than you think he has ever been, and raises your chin with his finger. He looks down at you, eyebrows pulled together, almost desperate.

“Talk to me.” He whispers.

Heat rises, low and deep in your gut. You let out a shuddered exhale.

“It… ‘tis nothing, my lord. Please, do not worry yourself-”

“Of course I am going to worry!” He says, pushing away from you.

The duke paces your room, obviously stressed. He raises a hand, pushing the stray hairs out of his face.

“My lord-”

“Do you have any idea what I would do to him?”

You pause.

“Sorry?” You choke out.

“If I ever find out that he’s hurt you, god…” He rubs his temples, then steps closer.

You watch him move, unable to find the words you feel you should say. He’s never said anything like this before. Your mouth parts, and instead of speaking, you simply place a hand on his chest, right over his heart. 

He stops pacing.

“My lord…” You murmur, breath heavy.

Your foreheads are nearly touching. He’s close, so close. Everything around you fades away for a moment. All you can hear, all you can feel, is the movement of his chest, his breathing, his heart beating a little faster than normal. 

You could move. You could stop whatever this is right now, nip it in the bud. You find, however, that the feeling low in your stomach, the butterflies in your chest, are speaking for you. Forcing your body close to his own.

“Let me speak to your parents.” He says, voice gravelly.

“I told you, that will not work. They do not care about me so deeply they would cancel my engagement.” You murmur.

“I’ll make them listen, then.” 

“No. It will only make things worse for me.”

He sighs, exasperated.

“Why are you so stubborn?” He speaks, softly but sternly. The words tickle your skin.

Scolding you with affection behind his words.

“Stubborn?” You grumble.

“Yes, stubborn. You will not let anyone else help you with anything, it all has to be done by you.”

“I think that is called being independent, my lord.” You quip back.

“Or foolish.”

You bristle, pushing him away at the contact you have with his chest. 

“What is your problem? You always have to start something with me.” You say, aggravated.

“My problem? What about your problem! I am trying to help you fix it, and you will not accept my help!” He gripes.

“Because I do not need it. I can figure this out on my own.” You argue.

“Yes, because that has been working so well thus far.” 

“I hate you.” You tell him earnestly.

He laughs then, deep and baritone. Disbelief is evident on his sharp features.

“Really, you hate me?”

“Yes, I hate you. You aggravate me. Just when I thought I could finally get along with you, you go and pull this!” You yell.

“You are insufferable.” He groans.

“If I am insufferable, you are deluded.” You scoff.

Closer. He’s big, much bigger than you.

“You are crazy.”

“Mentally insane.”

Closer. Your eyes flicker down to his lips.

“Psychotic.”

“Unstable.”

The two of you have no space between you, staring each other dead in the eyes. He doesn’t back down, and neither will you. Your chest rises and falls, breathing deeply. He has this look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

Like he’s seeing right through you. That he knows what you really want.

“Unhinged.” He murmurs.

“Deranged.” You whisper.

He rushes forward, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. You gasp into his mouth, body reacting immediately. He groans into your mouth like he’s been craving this, waiting for it.

It’s all teeth and hunger. He grips your waist, pulling you flush against him. You run your hands through his hair, moving his face impossibly close.

You don’t know what you are doing. You have never experienced anything like this, and you doubt he has either. It’s primal, the way you allow yourselves to just feel, for your bodies to take over and do exactly what it was made for. Your body slots against him, and it almost makes you feel like you were made for him.

He pushes you back against your dressing table, hoisting you up. Glass falls, shattering on the floor. You wrap your legs around him, still locked lips, achingly eager. That flame that was once dim and simmering in your stomach is now a wildfire, bright and yearning for him.

Your nails run along his neck, his back, anything you can reach. His large hands are on you, holding you in place, kneading the fat of your hips. You slip your tongue into his mouth teasingly, testing the waters.

He pulls back, running desperate and rushed kisses down the expanse of your throat. Your nightgown is pushed up, and you can feel his hardness against your barely clothed core. You gasp, throwing your head back with a hearty moan.

“Choso…” You breathe.

He stops. Pulls back. Suddenly looks very aware of what he’s doing to you. 

His face drops.

“I… I am so sorry, I should not have…”

He backs up.

“Choso?” You call out to him.

“This should not- This cannot happen.” He says, before rushing out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You’re left alone, sitting on your dressing table, surrounded by broken perfume bottles, wondering what the hell just happened.

════════════════════

a/n: woah two in one week im in it

Your cheeks feel hot as he leads you to the dancefloor, the next song already starting. He twirls you around him, his strong arms holding you close.

“I am afraid to admit you have been on my mind since our last meeting.” He says.

A small, giddy smile reaches your face.

“And I you, Lord Geto.”

“A diamond as beautiful as yourself saying that to me? I must have prayed to the right god.”

“You’re too kind, my lord.”

You move around him carefully, maintaining eye contact with his intense grey stare.

“So, my sparkling diamond, have you read anything interesting as of late?” He asks.

You giggle softly.

“Of course. Mary Wollstonecraft has been a recent interest of mine, although I try not to make it very well known.” You tell him.

“Ah, a feminist writer, right? I do not believe I know much of her work.” He confesses.

“Well allow me to enlighten you, Lord Geto.” You grin. “Society has so much to gain from allowing women into roles other than breeding stock for men. Than reducing us to simple gossip mongers. Women deserve economic independence, just like the men of the Ton.”

He hums.

“It’s quite a concept. I do wish to see it in my lifetime. I’ve met enough intelligent, powerful women in my lifetime to know that our current system is not quite right.”

You smile, and nod softly.

“It’s not just powerful women. All women deserve independence.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“And you, my lord? Have you been reading anything of interest?” You ask.

He picks you up gently, twirling you around softly.

“Unfortunately, I have been occupied with other matters. But I do intend to read more of Machiavelli’s work when I return back to my estate at the end of the season.”

“...Machiavelli?” You question.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes. Is something wrong with that?”

“No, it’s just…” You pause, letting him step around you. “... I would hope that your interest in Machiavelli is only academic and not moral.”

“Do you believe otherwise?” He asks.

You try to read his expression. It’s blank, almost teasing if teetering towards anything. You decide to interpret his words as a joke, moving on gently.

“Of course not, my lord. Forgive me.” You smile.

“There is nothing to be forgiven. I enjoy spending time with someone who asks questions. What is there to life if not the desire to learn more?” He says.

“I rather like that way of thinking.” You tell him, smiling.

He stares at your face for a moment, as if taking in every soft line and feature. His hands are soft and gentle on your own. His hair is in a bun this time, soft pieces framing his angular face.

“I should like to take you for a promenade among the Ton.” He says suddenly. “Not unchaperoned, of course. I wouldn’t want to disgrace you, my lady.”

“Of course, my lord. I would enjoy that greatly. You would have to speak with my mother, but I do not believe she’ll have any issues at all.” You say softly.

“Oh?” He says, teasingly, “And why is that?”

Embarrassed, you look away. He takes your chin, not roughly, but enough to force you to look back at him.

“Do not be shy, darling.” Geto murmurs.

“Because you are an attractive man with a good title. Do you disagree?”

“So you think I am attractive?” He grins.

“...You’re impossible.” You bashfully say.

He chuckles, finally releasing you and giving you grace. 

“I apologize, I just enjoy teasing you. You are rather adorable when you are embarrassed.”

The song ends, and the both of you bow at each other. 

“I do hope you’ll allow me one more dance before the night ends, my lady.” Geto smiles.

You turn away, speaking to him over your shoulder.

“I do not know, I am quite busy. We’ll see.” You smile cheekily.

He laughs, and you leave, going to find your mother with a giddy smile on your face. You have not seen her since being announced as the diamond, but you can only assume she is around with the other mothers showing off.

You need to tell her the good news.

A head of black hair catches your interest instead. 

The Duke looks frazzled, frustrated. His eyebrows are scrunched, his body on a warpath to exit the building. You chase after him, concerned.

What is going on with him?

“My lord! Duke Kamo!” You call out, pushing through the crowd.

He turns to see you, his expression souring even more.

“What do you want?” He asks, seething.

You take a step back, surprised by his anger.

“I just wanted to check on you, I saw you across the room and noticed you were distressed. I… I apologize if this is about the fruit, my lord. I would not have thought to have taken it had I known-”

“Yes, well, you do not really think in general, do you?” He spits.

You pause, anger flaring up from your feet all the way up to your chest.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, words careful but sharp.

“All I am simply implying is that you do not think about how your actions affect others. You are selfish.”

“Selfish?” You repeat, appalled.

“Yes, selfish. You come into our lives, trying to replace me as Yuuji’s brother. That whole ordeal with giving him the book I refused him? Just one example of many. Your relationship with him is so one sided it’s almost depressing.”

People around you start to look. You don’t care about their eyes. You only care about his. The two of you have bickered. You’ve fought. But he has never ever acted like this. Against your best efforts, tears start to well up in your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” You whisper. “I only wanted to…”

“Wanted to do what?” He asks. “Go on.”

“I only wanted what was best for him.” You state, voice weak.

He scoffs, half laugh, half outrage. 

“What is best for him is for you to leave him alone. He was doing just fine before you, and he’ll do better without you. All of us will.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. You want to be important to someone else so bad that you’re desperately clinging onto him like a pathetic leech. Let. Go.”

Those final words make your bottom lip tremble traitorously. You stand a little taller. 

“I apologize for intruding on your life, my lord. It will not happen anymore.” You say, tone barely a whisper.

“Good. Now go run off to your knight in shining armor. Geto might be the only one who does not despise your presence.” He seethes.

You take a step back. You stare at his face for just a moment. Just enough to see any break in whatever this is that he’s going through. He doesn’t. You take that as your answer, and leave to go somewhere, anywhere but there.

You accidentally push past someone, and they spill their drink on you. You apologize profusely, despite being the only one with drink on their attire, and are instead met with a nasty look. 

You leave, heart heavy with a flurry of different emotions.

—

This night was a whole different level of fucked up.

This has to be Choso’s personal hell. He is definitely repaying some karma from a past life by being here. He should have known that coming to the Zen’in estate would be a mistake. 

It started off well. He stuck by Yuuji’s side mostly, listening to his idle chatter with the Fushiguro boy. Refreshments were flowing, no one was bothering them, things were going well.

Until people started to approach him.

Somehow, someway, every single person present decided that tonight was the perfect opportunity to let Choso know how much they loved his father.

“Your father was such a good man, a great business partner. He had such a good head on his shoulders. You should be proud of who he was.”

Choso just had to grit his teeth and bare it. It was fine, the night would end, and everything would go back to normal. They didn’t know anything.

“He was so kind and generous. I wish I had a father like that.”

It was fine.

“He did a great many things for his community. I personally saw him as a hero of sorts.”

It was fine.

“Your mother was so lucky to have him, he was a really gentle man.”

It was fine.

“I wish I had worked with him more before he died. He was so progressive.” 

It was fine.

“You’re really turning out just like him.”

…Just like him?

Choso feels the nausea rising. It trickles up his throat like lava, suffocates him. The room is too hot. There’s too many people here. He has to leave. Now.

He pushes through crowds of people, leaving the conversation he was having abruptly and without explanation. He just has to get some fresh air, that’s all. Then he will be fine.

“-uke Kamo!”

He turns around, already angry to be interrupted again.

It turns out to be you.

Words leave him before he can stop them. Cruel, sick words that should never have left his lips. 

“I do. You want to be important to someone else so bad that you’re desperately clinging onto him like a pathetic leech. Let. Go.”

He regretted everything as soon as he said them. He doesn’t think that about you. Doesn’t truly believe you’re trying to replace him. 

He hates the way you make him feel. He’s not supposed to be feeling. He’s a pillar for his brothers, and that is all. Someone they can always rely on. He doesn’t want to feel whatever confusing emotions he has towards you.

He loathes it.

Despises himself even more when he sees the way tears well up in your eyes after every pointed jab at you. What is wrong with him?

“I apologize for intruding on your life, my lord. It will not happen anymore.”

Don’t go. I hate how weak your voice sounds.

“Good. Now go run off to your knight in shining armor. Geto might be the only one who does not despise your presence.”

Don’t leave. If you have to go, please god, go anywhere but to him.

And despite all of this, his face does not change. He does not let it. He is not built for vulnerability, to say what he feels and when. 

It is all one big facade that he hates himself for portraying.

You leave. Someone spills their drink on you, and he has to resist the urge to grab them by the collar and make them apologize to you. But you brush it off, being as far away from him as possible the most important thing to you at the moment.

Don’t go.

—

You step into the gardens, gasping at the fresh air, trying to quell the ache coming up in your throat. Your hand is on your chest, and you try to focus on the sound of your own heartbeat to calm yourself. It is too fast to help.

You quickly whip out your fan instead, flicking it open and fanning yourself to catch some breeze in the summer heat. It’s quiet outside. Better.

You take slow steps, one foot in front of the other. It almost feels like you are in a daze of sorts, conscious enough to know you should be going somewhere and distant enough to not know where. 

His words echo in your head like an empty chamber, just bouncing around constantly, taunting you. You did not think you were selfish. You just found someone who felt like he needed to be taken under your wing. He seemed like a lonely soul, just like you.

…Were you selfish?

Perhaps you were. Maybe Yuuji would have been better off if you had left him alone that day. Kicked his ball back over the shrubbery, chased him away. You would have never known him, and the two of you would have gone about your respective lives as it should have been.

At least then you would have never met Choso Kamo.

You start to tear up again.

What’s worse is the fact that you do not want to go back to not knowing them. 

“My lady?” A familiar voice behind you calls.

“Lord Geto?” You say, wiping your eyes.

“Is everything alright? I saw you run out of the ballroom rather quickly.” He asks, concerned.

You smile at him softly, doing your best to mask the internal turmoil you have been facing.

“Yes, I assure you I am quite alright. I just wanted to get some air. It can be rather suffocating in there.” An understatement.

He hums.

“True indeed. Do you mind if I join you on your walk?” 

“Of course not.” You tell him, taking his arm on your own.

The two of you begin to stroll, the night breeze quite crisp now that the sun has fallen. The trees around the estate sway with the wind, and you watch them move.

“It is odd being back here after being away for so long.” He suddenly says.

Confused, you turn to look at him.

“Have you not been in England?” You ask.

“No, I have not. I have spent the past few months travelling across Africa, if you can believe it. I made an excellent friend down there who showed me a great deal of the culture. I asked him to come to England so I can return the favour, but Miguel intends to stay in Kenya for the foreseeable future.” He tells you.

“Africa! How exciting. It must have been far travels, no?”

“It was. But I did rather enjoy myself. I definitely intend to return in the future. Perhaps then you should return with me.” He says with a smile.

Your cheeks heat up at the implications.

“Perhaps so. I did not realize you were already making future plans for us, Lord Geto.” You tease.

“I have been making plans since the first time I saw you, my darling diamond.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. He still sees it anyway. 

Briefly, you think of the Duke’s last words to you in the ballroom.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re really out here?” He asks suddenly.

You stare at him, shocked.

“Whatever do you mean?” You ask.

“I mean that something, or someone, upset you in there. Who was it?”

You sigh, shoulders drooping.

“It is nothing, my lord, I promise. I simply had a small disagreement with the Duke. We get into it quite frequently.” You say, ignoring the fact that this might have been the last.

“The Kamo?”

“Yes.”

He purses his lips, looking away.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing. I just did not realize you were so close to…them.”

You pause in your steps.

“... What does that mean, Lord Geto?” You ask.

He hums. Turns to look at you with a grim expression.

“The Kamo’s took in that new boy, yes? They should not have done that.” He confesses.

He begins to keep walking, but you stay put, removing your arm from his own.

“Why not? There is nothing wrong with him.”

“Don’t do this.”

Physically recoiling at his words, you take a step back towards the building.

“Do what, my lord? I thought you enjoyed questioning, no?”

Lord Geto sighs deeply.

“I just do not believe that he needs to be mixing in with us. Nobility, that is. Compared to us, he’s simply a mere… well, a monkey.”

You stare at him. Really stare at him.

“A… what?”

“I’m sorry my dear, but it’s the truth. There are simply people who are less superior, less educated. He happens to be one of them.”