Older!Toji talking you through it even in the middle of a fight.
cw: 18+ mdni, masturbatĂon, age gap, phone sèx, slight degradation, Toji calls you âkidâ twice
You were restless as the morning dawned, more than you should be.
Youâd been tossing and turning all night, so used to the 6â3 man, over 200 pounds that would lay beside you, pull you onto his chest with an incoherent gruff and that would settle you. But now, the birds are starting the tweet and the sun creeping itâs way into the sky with every passing minute, youâre eyes canât close even with the warm comforters holding you. All you can think off was you boyfriend, who you hadnât seen in three days.
You had had a fight, maybe you made some choices you shouldnât have. And Toji is older than you, warned you of the outcomes and all you could do was get defensive, raise the bastards blood pressure you had him yelling till you stormed out.
Would it have been so hard to admit he was right?
Yes, actually. And what? Prove you were young and incapable of making adult decisions? It pissed you off. Thatâs why you youâd had another sleepless night. But it irked you to no end, tossing the blanket off your body, youâd make the call youâd been dreading to make. Though, not to apologize.
Toji picks up on that second ring, always, doesnât matter whatâs going on, if itâs you. Heâll drop everything for you, sliding the rifle into the back of the drunk while he quickly leaves a âjob.â
He sighs as he gets in the drivers seat, engine roaring to life, âDid you call me in your sleep baby?â
âOr are you just not talkin, stubborn little shit, as always.â
Thereâs a rustle on your end of the line, an oh so familiar muffled noise and a huff, âNot- âm not stubborn.â
His finger taps the wheel, ears so sharp, of course he can hear your little whimpers, can practically see your juices dripping down your folds, dampening your underwear. He lets out a condescending laugh, âShit youâre fuckin dirty mama. Gettin off tâmy fuckin voice, thought you were mad at me.â
You scowl, âAhh- I am.â
âSheâs not mad at me.â And you can hear the smirk on his pink lips, only makes you wetter. You bite your lip, only rubbing your pulsing bud faster, you grit, pitchy moans leaving you, âYouâre- nnngh- so annoying, you and your stupid face- mm shit!â
âIs that right?â
âDonât f-fuck with me Fushiguro.â
âThen I should hang up-â
You let out a throaty whine, fingers dampening as you run your fingers through your glossy pussy lips. Your eyebrows knitted together, frustrated, âNo- mmh- just- just-â
ââYour first issue doll,â he hushes you, his member already starting to bulge in his pants, âYouâre always in such a fuckin rush, told you about that shit, didnât I? Canât get off like that, especially after what I do with you and your cunt.â
You shake your head, panting, âCocky mother-â
â-Ah huh sweetheart, why donât you dip a finger in that pretty pussy while youâre at it.â
Itâs only muscle memory to follow his instruction, gasping when you push it inside your tight walls.
âGood baby, work that finger in you, take your time.â
You give your home such lazy pumped with your fingers, thighs squeezing together as you keen, âToji.â
Your older boyfriendâs hands grip the steering wheel, Adamâs Apple bobbing, âNow put another finger in, slow, yerânot rammin it in there.â
Tojis deep voice swirls Iâm your mind, easing another finger into your tight heat. Fluttering while you imagine his thick digits opening you up- moreâ the way heâs have his shaft filling you up to the brim, hold your legs open while he bottoms out. You start to thrust your fingers inside you faster, eyes low and hiccuping on your own moans. But itâs not enough, not wide enough, fast enough. âMmph- fuck!â You groan out.
âThereâs your second issue kid,â Toji drawls out, eyes focused on the road, almost crashing once from the way your pretty moans fills his ears, ââS never gonna be enough, think about whatâs Iâd do for ya, huh? How Iâd make you take it, legs over my shoulders while I got my cock through alll those tight little ridges âf yours, till youâre shaking and crying. Nipples all hard beggin fâme to suck on âemâ shit, bet theyâre all perked up for me right now, want my tongue around em, lapping you up donât you baby?â
âUugh- Yeah,â You mewl, hips bucking into your hand, more slick water falling out of you.
âCourse ya do angel,â his voice so so hypnotic, makes your insides tingle, âget em all wet, biting and kissing up your neck to your plump lips, squeeze on youâ fuck, wont you spank it for me? Lemme hear it.â He groans.
Youâre trembling, fingers coming down on your chubby clit, hard, just like Toji would. The wet plap, plap, plap of your sobbing pussy filling Tojis ears, your sticky string of juices down your pruned fingers. Youâre chanting his name between curses, eyes squeezing together. The pace of your fingers sloppy as you grind into your hand.
âGod sheâs messy, all fâme yeah?â He shifts in his seat, pulsing cock throbbing as your moans only get louder, trying to relieve some of the tension but youâre only making it harder.
Your lips purse out, head burred in the pillows, you can practically feel his large hands on you, guiding you, filling you, pressing right against that spongy slot that makes your cream, youâre babbling. âaaah- bastard, asshole-â
âLooove the way you talk tâme puddin, keep goin.â
The older man can imagine how disheveled youâd look around him, sobbing and your skin all clammy in the moonlight, nails going down his back as he drills deep into you, hands gripping your hips so hard Thry bruise. His jaw clenches, âNeeded your old man tâtalk you through it didnât you? Wanted me more than 7 inches deep inside you while fucked you all mean ând roughââ
âFuck, mmm- yes!â Your toes curl, that deep feeling in your stomach snapping apart when you cum all of your digits. Youâre still dazed as you come down from the high, rolling over to the side Toji usually sleeps on.
âCome home soon Toj.â You speak softly, still panting, your tired eyes finally closing, and he hums. Something about only being ten minutes away. âIâll âpologize proper⌠so bring somethin good for breakfast.â
âFâCourse puddin.â
And thereâs a comfortable beat of silence before Toji speaks, âLove you kid.â
And your voice is so sweet, melodic in his ears, you purr, âLove you too Toji.â
a/n: my young bitch TORE on The Precipice. Jessie Mazin using nepo baby privilege for goodđđ
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"them pieces of silicone won't look at you the way i do" ; a sly challenge against your boyfriend's ego after he criticises your use of sex toys
đ ཟâźđ cw: bondage. use of a vibrator. sub!fratjo. very light degradation. overstimulation. Űśŕ§ 1.5k words.
"đ˛ đŚđđŽđ, đŹ'đđ¨đ. i just don't see the point in this thing. you've got me to take care of you, baby."
was the last time such an order of words had escaped satoru's lips in so polished a succession. what followed, traditionally recognised by the average onlooker as something so unbecoming of the charming athlete, was but one of many sly confirmations of a modest inclination.
gojo satoru bled with a vivacity that infected those around him like a deadly virus. symptoms varied. admiration. envy. annoyance. desire. and an unyielding fancy from others to conquer.
it was with such knowledge that he didn't cheapen himself to anything less characteristic of he who is captain of the football team and president of his fraternity. to some's pleasure, and to most's chagrin, vanity was a second skin, a wretched kink in his dna that, alongside his devilishly good looks, he'd felt no need to stifle; present during football games, head to head with his opponents as he speaks ill of their athletic prowess. present during frat parties, head to head with other frat bros as he speaks ill of their sexual prowess.
and as his girlfriend, to think that you'd be exempt from such torment may only determine you as dangerously unwise. which is why it came to no surprise that he'd dared to question your use of sex toys, and that such audacious questioning served as none but yet another opportunity to advertise his own superiority. after all, nothing came close to the near biblical ecstasy of being split open by his cock, and more so, bearing the privilege to access such ecstasy at your very own command. smug as ever, with the conviction of one forever pardoned from subjugation, he shamelessly expressed this reminderânot even bothering to apologise for rummaging through your things, but had somehow reassigned his place on the moral low ground to you for owning such supposed abominations.
and certain responses, a huff, a cross of the armsâthe smallest indication of having taken offense, typical of you, quickly concealed by the clearing of your throat, he hadn't been naive to expect.
but he had been naive to expect defeat.
"ah...fuck! c-c'mon! i said i was sorryângh!"
alas, his transgression was rendered impossible to overturn. but such a reflection wouldn't come easy to him by simply observing your expressionâsoft eyes suddenly interested in your nails, your walls, the open novel on your lap in which the content had been reduced to incoherent lines of black ink.
still. rested.
as if the soothing quietude of your dorm wasn't polluted with the buzz of your vibrating wand and the shaky urgency of satoru's cries. heard from the foot of your bed. mere meters from you.
you simply cross your legs, lean calmly back against your headboard, which all but prompts satoru into a fervid quest for only the smallest glance.
"pleaseâŚi can'tâŚi can't take it anymoreâŚ" he pants, to which you make no discernible physical response, except avert your eyes from your lap, almost as if searching for confirmation. and surely enough, he was still there. the ever so fierce gojo satoruâhottest and toughest boy on campus, the social kingpin, sex god, from whom a glance was worth the world's riches, restrained to a chair with your vibrating wandâthe contraption previously subjected to his cocky ridiculeâtied to the hardened and aching length of his cock.
his tip glows an angry red from the continued abuse, beads of precum leaking obscenely down his veiny girth as each plea rings louder than the last. then, perhaps to prove your motivations less base, your eyes travel upwards, passing over the way his sweaty pectorals strain against the tightness of the rope, to a set of pink and glossy lips agape in none other than pure bliss.
and then it became clear to you.
this wasn't beneath him at all.
a smirk finally tugs at the corner of your lips, and a voice, sweet and thick as honey, yet fierce as the heat of molten steel, fans into the atmosphere as a deceptively maternal response, "i'm sorry, baby. what was that you said again?"
"nghâbaby!" the plea escapes in parts of a sob and a laugh, back arching against the chair in a delicious battle against his powerlessness. you only shut your book, a dusty page-riddled 'thump!' that signals anything but mercy, and set it aside as he continues to plead, "i saidâŚi saidâŚi can't take it! it's too muchâŚ"
"nah ahâŚ" you tut, "before that."
the state into which satoru's features contort warms your heart, and just for a second, his confusion turns you away from how the length of his cock rivals that of the wand that continues to buzz mercilessly against him. how the movements of his hips don't cease, riding the vibrations in earnest as if he were a bitch in heat. it pulls a soft coo from your throat, making his cock twitch, no less when you continue to taunt him with this riddle.
"oh, come onâŚ" your tone teeters on the edge of a sneer, "you're usually all talk, mr quarterback. nothing to say this time?" a high pitched whine follows, and after that, a witch-like cackle as you salaciously cross one leg over the other, intending only to reveal a sliver of skin from your sundress to contrast your boyfriend's state of vulnerability. you sigh, feigning resignation, "you're slow, aren't you? where was all that sweet talk about being better, hm?"
"i know! i knowâfuck! i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i didn't meanâ"
"âabout how nothing compares to being fucked by you?" you tilt your head, smiling as if you were merely spectating upon a performance of which you had no control. "because from where i'm sitting, it seems like i'm still yet to witness this stamina you keep blabbering about."
conceding to what is now, undeniably, a spell of torment of which he can no longer plead his way out, he shakes his shoulders in a light sob, a rhythm that nearly matches that of his hips. "fuckâŚyou're evilâŚyou're so fucking evilâŚ"
"maybe," you purr, tracing the hem of your dress, rested and wrinkled on your upper thigh, stopping short of what he would kill to watch you touch. "but we both know that you asked for it."
"god! okay! fine! i'll never say anything like that again! I sweaâ"
"i like you like this," you interrupt, as if musing upon a trivial observation, "why would you hide this side of you from me, baby?'
with his mouth agape, and his eyebrows creased as if he were about to break into tears, he sneaks a quick glance below his waist, eager to witness the nearing of his own climax. his cock bobs lightly against his toned abdomen, a string of creamy white stretching between themâand the wand, ever so obtrusive, taunts him with several reminders of his incapacity, daring him to break free and give himself the release he so desperately craved.
"it feels so fucking goodâŚ"
"I know, baby."
"but it's nothing compared to you."
you pause.
he continues, "i wanna breed that sweet little pussy and feel it squeeze every drop out of me. i wanna watch your tits bounce when you ride me. god, i'd rather you milk me for all i'm worthâ'til my cock fuckin' snaps. i'd rather it be you torturing me like thisâŚnotângh!âthis fuckin' thing!"
the plea, an elixir most damning to inexperienced taste buds, almost catches youâthe smell of your arousal guarded feebly between the full flesh of your thighs, dripping like molten lava, taunting satoru's nose like a siren's call.
but then came his next words. and oh, thanks be to his naivety, for baring his armor to your procurement.
"i know you want it too." he grunts. "you know you want it."
complete silence. satoru pants as if his speech were a bout of strenuous exercise, and even still, the sound takes defeat over the loud hums of that damnable sex toy.
"oh, toruâŚ" you coo, and his posture straightensâwand be damnedâas he awaits your response in hopeful anticipation, "you still haven't learned, have you?"
you don't even give yourself time to watch his face drop, his head tip back again, his hair slap back onto his forehead like leaves of a willow tree in a snowstorm, his orgasm come upon him in a violent twitch of the hips. the bliss had betided within the few seconds it took for you to swing your legs off of the bed, retrieve your novel, and make but a casual destination of the door to your bedroom.
averting his eyes from the mess of cum on his abs, upon realizing the lack of intervention proceeding his orgasm, he strains his neck towards the door, catching your hand against the doorknob. "heyâhey! what the fuck! come turn this thing off!"
your expression, eerily calm, discourages further thought. just another loud cry. "ah, baby! please! i can't! i can't take it anymore!"
"i'm off to study. thanks for taking care of me, baby. that was amazing."
John "christ, kid, slow downâ" price who can hardly keep up with his younger partner in bed. He's gotten used to distracting you with his mouth or hands, you even broke his pride down enough to invest in toys after begging for a fourth round in a day. He's old and hasn't exactly prioritized his health, which means he often ends up on hid back breathing through his teeth while you ride him to your heart's content.
Vs
Simon "another? C'mon, please love I'll be goodâ" riley who even in his forties has the energy and want to bend you over every surface he can manage. Seriously, you're pretty sure his dick his permanently half-chubbed. You, the one nearly half his age, have to shove him away and whimper before he lets up to go take a cold shower. He says its all the love he has for you, you're pretty sure he's just a freak.
stop trying to âarriveâ in your DR. feel where you are and flow.
post inspo!
we always discuss how we arenât separate from our drs, how thereâs no disconnect between us here and us there. and yet every single time, you go into an attempt trying to arrive. trying to wake up as if you havenât already been there the entire time.
why?
because youâre not actually trying to shift. youâre trying to confirm.
youâre trying to feel it here, see it here, know itâs happening here because you donât trust that itâs already happening without your supervision. you start simulating the arrival, so you can monitor every sensation and know youâre doing it âcorrectlyâ.
but thatâs just resistance to the natural flow of shifting. itâs pressure. when you feel like you have to focus on arriving in order to receive, you interrupt yourself from actually shifting because youâre over monitoring. you take yourself out of the experience and replace it with you watching yourself experience. when you focus too hard all it means is youâre performing. taking it so seriously so that you donât âmissâ the moment. but nowhere in this situation are you actually coming to terms with the fact that youâre already in your dr.
youâre just containing it. shrinking it into little parameters in hopes you can control and validate the shift before you allow yourself to flow into it. thats not what allowing yourself to shift means.
allowing yourself to shift is acknowledging that you already exist in your dr. therefore trying to create an entire narrative that doesnât come naturally to you makes no sense. let the imagery come to you. let the dr chase you. you donât have to have intense focus. you can just daydream and let it be chaotic because thatâs flow. flow is not correcting the scene. itâs not steering every detail. flow is letting the information remain unfinished. itâs letting the picture paint itself.
allow the experience to be what it is! donât dampen it by focusing on if youâre there yet. the answer is always yes! you are there. now trust that and allow your dr to form around you, instead of trying to forcefully form your thoughts around it.
letâs all do a shifting exercise tonight! doesnât matter if you have doubts. doesnât matter if your script is unfinished (yes iâm talking to you overthinker). doesnât matter if your sleep schedule is fucked and you planned to do it at this time but now itâs âtoo lateâ. doesnât matter if you have things to do tomorrow. this exercise is for everyoneâwhether youâve shifted to your dr or not.
tonight, when you go to shift, i want you to feel the emotional tone of your dr before setting your intention. let yourself be filled with the peace and love and wholeness of finally being in the place you belong. be present. where do you feel the energy most? let it overflow into every part of your body. even just two minutes of this is enough for your intention to be backed by emotional resonance (which strengthens a manifestation and an assumption because your subcon processes things you experience emotion with as real). after you feel youâve connected emotionally (again, this should not take a long time. anything will work) set your intention simply and clearly.
say things like:
âiâm shifting now.â âiâm going to my dr as i sleep.â âi allow myself to be in my dr.â
(you can also say your own dr specific thing! no limitations, just examples!!)
this is not to convince yourself. there should be no âokay and now what?â response. donât immediately go searching for your dr in your senses. do not wait for things to change. just say it like you mean it and let go.
once your intention is set, act like it already worked. i donât mean start convincing yourself youâre seeing, hearing, or thinking in your dr. i just mean own the choice. own the decision of having just shifted. act as if you just placed a same-day delivery order and your confirmation code just came. relax. listen to music or asmr. and go to sleep. itâs done.
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Simon Rileyâs never thought that beforeâuntil theyâre barreling down his driveway, barking up a storm at you. A pretty thing in the neighborhood, pushing a stroller.Â
He follows after his stubborn German Shepherds, gruffly ordering them to heel. They wonât hurt you, of course, but you donât know that. He braces himself for the screams when he rounds the mailbox. A terrified mother and her child, chased by three trained-to-kill dogs and a masked manâ
Laughter stops him in his tracks.Â
Cap, Kilo, and Mac are planted on their asses, tails wagging, tongues hanging out. Your toddlerâs giggling so hard sheâs nearly tippinâ out of her seat as she yanks on Macâs ear, earning a face full of slobber for it.Â
And youâyouâre bent over, one hand holding Capâs paw, the other scratching behind Kiloâs ears.Â
âCute pups,â you say.Â
Cute...what?Â
You look up at him, past his mask and into his eyes. He freezes. But you just smile.Â
âYou military?âÂ
He ends up not replying, because the setting sun catches in your eyes and his brain is temporarily short-circuited. Youâre not deterred, however, your chin tilting to the gun holstered at his hip.Â
âMy husband was, too.â Your gaze drops to the paw in your hand. âHe did an op down in Coal Ridge last year.â
You donât have to say anything else. Everyone knows what went down in the ridge.
Ghost tries to find somethingâanythingâto say. Condolences would be a start. But nothing he thinks of is good enough, or sounds right in his head. So he just stands there, looming over you, watching you pet his assassin dogs.Â
And thenâit hits him in the chest like a bullet.Â
Youâre all alone in that house at the end of the street with your little girl.Â
Something rears its head under his ribs. A protective urge so strong itâs almost staggering.
âWell,â you sigh, straightening and offering him a playful, cute little salute. âHave a good one.â Your eyes flick to the insignia on his sleeve. âLieutenant.â
As you stroll away into the setting sun, Simon watches you go, and the âcute pupsâ whine at his feet as you leave.
And suddenly, three guard dogs don't seem like enough after all.Â
Seeing you at Shotoâs celebratory get together for reaching second place in the hero ranks should evoke no feelings from Katsuki, right? Even if he hasnât seen you in three years. Even if he might just want you back a little
Tags/CW: exes to ???, emotionally constipated Katsuki (just how I like it), angst with happy ending, making up, kissing, conversations about sex but no smut, making out in Katsukiâs car, takes place during MHA: more (but I made it a bit fancier), men who yearn are men who earn
The bathroom is too hot.
Steam still clings to the mirror even though Katsuki cracked the door open nearly ten minutes ago, and now every surface still has that damp, sticky feeling that makes his skin itch. The air smells faintly like eucalyptus from the stupid overpriced shaving cream Kirishima convinced him to buy last month, mixed with clean soap and the sharp metallic scent of running water. His apartment is quiet except for the constant buzz of the fluorescent light above him and the rough scrape of the razor dragging slowly down his jaw.
âShitâFuckââ
He hisses through his teeth the second the blade catches unevenly against his skin. A sting blooms near his chin, followed by the bright bead of blood surfacing almost immediately.
Katsuki glares at himself through the fogged mirror like the reflection personally pissed him off.
âGreat.â
He looks fine. More than fine, honestly, which somehow only irritates him more.
His hair is freshly trimmed, the ash blond strands still slightly damp from his shower, pushed back messily from his forehead. The sleeves of his black compression shirt cling to his shoulders and arms while the expensive button-up he plans on wearing hangs neatly from the bathroom door beside pressed slacks he spent way too long picking out earlier. Even his watch sits carefully beside the sink instead of abandoned somewhere random like usual. The entire thing feels too deliberate. Too polished. Too much like he gives a shit.
Which he doesnât.
Obviously.
Except his stomach has felt weird since he woke up this morning.
Not nervous. Definitely not nervous.Â
He canât pinpoint the exact moment he clocked off hero work or how much time he spent at the gym so he could show off a pump tonight, nor can he try to convince himself it isnât for the reason he doesnât want to admit. He just wants to look good.
And thatâs it. Simple as it sounds. No reason for him to choke on stuttering breaths.
The razor scrapes harder against his jaw this time as he rinses it aggressively under the sink. Hot water rushes over his fingers, turning the tips of them pink.
The celebration dinner is stupid to begin with, if you ask him.
Shoto gets ranked top two after the downtown incident last month, Endeavor immediately turns it into some flashy media spectacle about family legacy and hero society, and somehow all of Class A gets invited because the public still eats up that âgolden generationâ garbage years later. Old classmates pretending they all still keep in touch more often than not. The entire thing sounds exhausting.
But youâre gonna be there.
Thatâs the problem.
For all he cares, itâs beenâwhat? Three years?
Three fucking years since heâs properly seen you.
Not in passing through articles online. Not blurry photos people tag him in accidentally after hero events. Not hearing your name mentioned by Mina or Sero every couple of months when they gossip over drinks.
Actually seeing you.
As in, In person.
Close enough to touch.
Because when him and you were no more, instead of running back to him like youâd always do, you moved out of Japan, got a job somewhere else in the world. You blocked him on all socials, blocked his number âeven the agency landlineâ and for a while, he didnât care to contact you. He didnât care to check up on you, because who checks up on someone who said they wished they never met you? He went out of your life as quietly as you went out of his. Not caring if his last words hurt you, like you did.
Katsuki braces both hands against the sink and stares downward as water drips steadily from the faucet. His reflection blurs at the edges from the steam still clouding the glass, turning him into something distorted and unfamiliar.
Pathetic.
The worst part is he doesnât even know what version of you is walking through those doors tonight.
Maybe youâre angry.
Maybe you barely look at him.
Maybe youâve become one of those calm, polished heroes that smile perfectly for cameras now, the kind that know exactly how to navigate crowded rooms without making enemies out of everyone in them.
Or maybe youâll look through him entirely.
That thought digs somewhere unpleasant beneath his ribs.
Fair enough, honestly.
He earns that.
The memory still crawls up on him sometimes when it gets too quiet. Usually late at night after patrol when heâs too exhausted to keep his thoughts from wandering somewhere ugly.
In all honesty he did try to talk to you. Last year, after he found out he wasnât blocked anymore. But he was angry, vulgar, everything youâve ever said you hated about him. And for better or for worse you had only told him you knew heâd never change. And he had left it there, not pressing anymore, not needing anymore proof to accept you just werenât coming back.
Maybe this is why he wonât wear the polished clothes heâs picked out for tonight. Maybe the Nike sweats he tumble dried this morning and a t-shirt will make him look more casual, put together in a way fancy clothes wonât.
Because tonight is casual to him. It should be, at least, amidst picking up Kirishima and Izuku in his new car. He shouldnât even care that youâre going to be there.
He keeps staring at himself anyway.
Like maybe if he looks long enough, heâll suddenly figure out why this feels so fucking strange.
The bathroom light washes his skin pale while steam curls slowly around the edges of the mirror, softening the sharpness of his reflection. Katsuki barely recognizes the version of himself standing there sometimes. Not because he looks differentâhe does, obviously, older and broader and rougher around the edgesâbut because somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-five, the anger inside him changed shape.
Less explosive.
Much more exhausting.
He reaches for the towel hanging off the counter and drags it roughly over his face before tossing it aside. The nick near his chin still stings faintly. Tiny. Irritating. His eyes flick toward the button-up hanging from the bathroom door again, then away immediately.
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
The idea of showing up looking like he spent hours trying to impress you makes something hot crawl up his neck. It feels pathetic now. Worse now, somehow, after standing here spiraling like an idiot for nearly forty minutes over a dinner he doesnât even want to attend.
Katsuki grabs the hanger off the door and shoves the expensive shirt deeper into the closet on his way back into the bedroom.
Fuck that.
The softer lighting from his room settles easier against his eyes compared to the harsh fluorescent buzz of the bathroom. Outside the windows, the city glows orange and blue beneath the darkening sky, traffic crawling between towering buildings while distant sirens echo somewhere far below. His apartment sits high enough that most nights the noise blends together into background static.
Tonight it all feels too loud.
He yanks open a drawer harder than necessary and pulls out the black t-shirt he wears for training. The fabric stretches tight across his shoulders when he changes, outlining muscle built from years of relentless schedules, combat drills, patrols, sleepless nights at the gym whenever his head gets too crowded to sit still inside his own apartment.
Not for you.
Obviously.
The thought comes so defensive it almost makes him scoff at himself.
The sweats are clean at least. Black Nike joggers fresh from the dryer this morning, soft at the inside, fitted enough that Kirishima once called them âboyfriend material clothesâ before Katsuki threatened to blast him through a wall. Casual. Comfortable. Like he isnât thinking about tonight at all.
Like he didnât spend an embarrassing amount of time earlier deciding between watches.
His jaw tightens again.
This is ridiculous.
Youâre just another person he used to know.
Thatâs it.
Three years changes people. Hell, maybe you arenât even the same woman anymore. Maybe you cut your hair shorter now. Maybe you picked up some accent overseas since your Japanese seemed too weird the last time you talked. Andâ and maybe, like the thoughts that used to consume him before he ever reached out to you last year, thereâs somebody else waiting for you back home after tonight, somebody softer than him. Somebody easier. Someone your shared friends know about but wonât let him know of.
That thought lands badly, like he woke a dragon from a millennial slumber. His chest immediately feels too tight for it.
Katsuki snatches his car keys off the counter before he can sit with the feeling any longer.
His hone buzzes again from the kitchen table as he passes by. Probably Kirishima. Maybe Deku. Maybe another last-minute reminder about tonightâs schedule.
He ignores it.
The kitchen still smells faintly like coffee from this morning, dishes abandoned beside the sink because he hasnât had enough energy lately to care about cleaning immediately after meals. Thereâs protein powder spilled near the toaster from breakfast. A hoodie tossed over one of the dining chairs. Tiny signs of somebody actually living here instead of the spotless, polished apartment magazines keep trying to photograph whenever reporters sneak glimpses during interviews.
For a second, his eyes drift unconsciously toward the balcony.
You used to stand out there all the time. Especially during storms.
Wrapped in one of his hoodies with your arms folded over the railing while Musutafu lit up below you in blurred neon reflections. You always complained the city looked lonely from this high up.
Katsuki used to think that was stupid. Now he gets it.
His throat feels strangely dry.
âFuckinâ hell,â he mutters under his breath.
The worst part is he genuinely has no idea how tonightâs gonna go.
Maybe youâll smile politely at him like heâs an old coworker and heâll have to be casual about greeting you, though he doesnât want to.
Maybe youâll avoid him altogether.
Maybe Minaâll force everybody into some obnoxious group photo and suddenly heâll be standing beside you for the first time in years pretending his heart isnât punching against his ribs hard enough to bruise merely at the thought of it all.
Or maybeâ
Maybe youâll just look heavenly good.
Thatâs the real problem, honestly.
Because he already knows you will.
Not because of makeup or clothes or whatever expensive shit pro heroes wear to these events now. You always looked good to him in ways that annoyed the hell out of him. Half-asleep in his shirts. Sitting on his kitchen counter eating takeout straight from the carton. Yelling at him from across the apartment while he ignored you on purpose just to hear you get louder.
Three years later and his body still remembers stupid things about you automatically.
The sound of your laugh.
The weight of your legs thrown over his lap.
The smell of your peachy shampoo lingering on his pillows after arguments where one of you stormed out dramatically only to come back two hours later.
Katsuki grips his keys tighter.
Nope.
Heâs not doing this tonight. Heâs not showing up already halfway dragged into the past because of somebody who made it painfully clear they didnât want him in their life anymore.
That should matter.
It does matter.
And honestly, he understands why you left.
Back then he was still angry at everything. Angry at hero society. Angry at himself. Angry at how badly he wanted somebody and how terrified he is of needing them at the same time. Every conversation between you eventually turned into him snapping before you can get too close to whatever ugly thing sits underneath his ribs.
You called him cruel once.
Not loudly. Not even during a fight.
Just tired.
And somehow that had struck him worse than any screaming ever could. Thatâs when it clicked to him, that no matter how much you said you saw the good in him, you never truly could. Even if one of your last sentences to him was that you loved him, he didnât believe you could ever love someone you thought was cruel, someone you wish you never met.Â
Katsuki locks the apartment behind him harder than necessary before heading toward the elevator.
The hallway lights flicker softly overhead while he waits, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh. His reflection stares back at him from the metal elevator doorsâbroad shoulders, tired eyes, black compression shirt clinging too tightly against muscle that suddenly feels more like armor than confidence.
Casual.
Tonight is casual.
Just old classmates catching up. Nothing more.
Then his phone vibrates again.
EIJIRO: donât be weird tonight bro
A second message immediately follows; something about sitting shotgun in his new car.
Katsuki stares at the screen for a long moment. Then another vibration.
IZUKU: Kacchan are we still meeting downstairs in 20?
His jaw flexes hard enough to ache.
Because somehow, despite everything, despite all the years and silence and blocked numbers and ugly last conversationsâ
A part of him still feels twenty-two again. Twenty-two and convinced that no one could love the way he expressed himself.
______
By the time Katsuki parks outside the izakaya, the knot in his stomach has already settled into something meaner. Sharper. Musutafu glows around him and his friends in streaks of reflected neon against rain-dark pavement while a valet moves between cars beneath the izakaya entrance. The place itself is ridiculously upscale even if it is just traditional, all warm golden lighting spilling through enormous glass windows and polished black stone.
Kirishima lets out a low whistle from the passenger seat as he climbs out. âCanât wait to see everyone.âÂ
âShut the fuck up,â Katsuki mutters automatically, already slamming the car door closed harder than necessary.
Cold evening air immediately brushes against the back of his neck. Somewhere nearby, traffic hums steadily through the city while muffled laughter spills from the izakaya entrance every time the doors open. Izuku smooths anxiously at the sleeves of his suit beside the car, glancing toward the building with that same nervous energy heâs carried since high school.
âDo we think Todoroki planned all this himself,â he starts, adjusting his tie, âor do you think Endeavor hiredââ
âDeku,â Katsuki interrupts flatly, shoving his hands into his pockets, âif you start analyzing anything, iâm leaving.â
âI wasnât gonna analyze theââ
âYou literally were.â
Kirishima snorts loudly beside them, and normally the familiar bickering would loosen something in Katsukiâs chest. Tonight it barely registers because his attention keeps drifting toward the entrance before they even reach it, heartbeat strangely steady in a way that feels worse than panic. Like his body already knows something his brain is still trying to avoid.
The hostess opens the doors with a practiced smile, and warm air immediately wraps around them alongside the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses. The restaurant is crowded with heroes, old classmates that are lingering discreetly in sorted tables near the back, all surrounded by polished wood and amber lighting that makes everything glow soft and expensive.
Katsuki barely notices any of it.
His eyes find you almost instantly.
Of course they do.
Youâre seated near the center of the room beside the girls, half-turned toward Mina while Ochaco laughs at something across the table. The lighting catches warmly against the side of your face, softening the curve of your expression while gold jewelry glints subtly against your skin every time you move. Your hair is longer now than the last time he saw you in person, falling over your shoulders while one hand curls loosely around a sake glass. You look comfortable there. Relaxed. Like you belong in rooms like this now.
And for one awful second, Katsuki genuinely forgets how to breathe.
Three years vanish instantly beneath the weight of recognition. His body remembers you before his brain does, something visceral and humiliating tightening beneath his ribs before he can stop it.
Fuck.
You look different, but not enough to feel unfamiliar. Older, maybe. Sharper around the edges in the way everybody becomes sharper with time. Thereâs confidence in the way you sit now that wasnât fully there before, something steadier beneath your posture. You carry yourself like someone whoâs finally learned how to exist without apologizing for taking up space.
Then Mina notices them entering.
âOh my god, finally!â she calls immediately, waving dramatically across the room. âYou guys are late as hell!â
Several heads turn at once.
Including yours.
Katsuki feels it immediately, that split second your eyes land on him from across the room. It happens so fast he almost convinces himself he imagined it. No widening. No visible surprise. No anger flashing across your face. Your gaze settles on him briefly before moving smoothly toward Kirishima instead.
âOh, Eiji,â you smile warmly, standing slightly from your pillow as the group approaches. âHi.â
The knot in Katsukiâs stomach twists tighter.
Kirishima grins instantly. âThere she is. Damn, itâs been forever.â
âIt literally has,â Mina groans dramatically. âThis bitch abandoned us internationally.â
You laugh softly at that, embarrassed enough to duck your head slightly.
The sound lands somewhere dangerous in Katsukiâs chest.
Ochaco immediately stands to greet Izuku while the others start talking over each other all at once, greetings and questions colliding noisily together after years apart. You converse with everyone easily. Kirishima gets pulled into a quick side hug while you squeeze Ochacoâs hand excitedly across the table. You ask Izuku about agency work overseas, laugh when Kaminari nearly trips over a table trying to sit down, you smile politely at Jirou when she teases your accent sounding slightly different now.
But Katsuki gets nothing.
At first he tells himself maybe you just havenât gotten there yet. Maybe itâs awkward. Maybe youâre nervous too and trying to settle into the conversation before acknowledging him properly.
Then Kirishima nudges him lightly with his elbow.
âOi,â he mutters under his breath, âsay hi, silly.â
Katsukiâs jaw tightens immediately.
His eyes flick toward you again, but youâre already sitting back down beside Mina, smoothing your sleeve absentmindedly while listening to Momo speak. Completely relaxed. Completely normal.
Like he isnât even there.
Something hot immediately crawls beneath his skin, but it doesnât feel like anger. Anger wouldâve been easier to deal with. Easier to understand. This feels uglier than that.
Because you arenât being cold.
You arenât glaring at him or avoiding eye contact dramatically or making the tension obvious for everyone else at the table.
Youâre just indifferent.
Clean, casual, effortless indifference that makes it painfully obvious youâve already figured out how to exist in the same room as him without it affecting you at all.
Katsuki pulls form to his seat harder than necessary across from Kirishima, the sharp scrape of the table flinching away from him against the floor briefly cutting through the table conversation. Nobody reacts except Mina, whose eyes dart toward him automatically before flicking carefully toward you.
You donât even look up.
Jesus Christ.
His chest suddenly feels too tight.
âYou look good, by the way,â Mina says suddenly, leaning dramatically against your shoulder. âLike suspiciously good. What the hell are they feeding you overseas?â
You laugh quietly, almost embarrassed by the attention. âLiterally just less stress, probably.â
The joke lands casually around the table. Kaminari laughs. Jirou snorts into her drink. Ochaco starts teasing you immediately about abandoning Japanese work culture.
Nobody else notices anything strange about the comment.
But Katsuki does.
Of course he fucking does.
Less stress.
Like loving him had exhausted you so thoroughly that leaving the entire country became the healthiest thing youâd ever done for yourself.
His fingers curl tighter around the edge of the menu sitting untouched in front of him.
âStill working with that rescue agency?â Izuku asks curiously.
You nod. âMostly disaster relief now, yeah. Itâs quieter than here.â
âQuieter?â Kaminari repeats incredulously. âWhy would you want quieter?â
âBecause some people enjoy peace,â Jirou answers dryly.
âExactly,â you laugh.
And there it is again, that strange feeling pressing heavier against Katsukiâs ribs every time you smile. Because you do seem peaceful now. Not forced. Not pretending. Actually peaceful.
Your posture stays relaxed through every conversation. Your smile comes easier than he remembers. Even your voice sounds lighter somehow, no longer carrying that constant tension that used to sit beneath your words whenever the two of you argued. Back then, loving each other always felt loud. Intense. Like every conversation teetered dangerously close to becoming a fight neither of you knew how to stop once it started.
Now you just seem⌠calm.
Katsuki suddenly feels too large in his seat. Too rough around the edges for this version of you. His broad shoulders, his obnoxiously loud voice, the constant restless energy simmering beneath his skin all feel painfully obvious in comparison to the quiet ease you carry now.
Mina notices it first.
Her eyes flick carefully between the two of you once. Then again.
Her smile falters slightly.
Because now itâs becoming noticeable to everybody else too.
You still havenât acknowledged Katsuki properly once since they entered the izakaya.
Kirishima notices next, judging by the awkward way he shifts beside Katsuki before clearing his throat.
âSo, uhâŚâ he starts carefully, eyes darting between you both. âCrazy seeing everybody together again, huh?â
âMm,â you hum politely before taking another sip of your drink.
Thatâs it.
No tension sharpens your voice. No bitterness leaks through your expression. Nothing about your reaction feels forced or emotional at all. Katsuki Bakugo has somehow become just another former classmate sitting at the table across from yours instead of the man you once shared a bed and apartment and entire future with.Â
You used to tell each other that by the time youâre twenty-five youâd surprise your friends and old classmates by popping a kid out of the blue in one of these events. You used to laugh at the thought of him flaunting a baby bump on you, dreaming that youâd hide your engagement ring from everyone until it was the right time to announce youâd get married.
In another life, it may have been different.
Instead of that, you and him are forcibly strangers now; the realization settles, once again heavily in his stomach.
At least showing hatred towards him would mean he still mattered enough to ruin your evening.
This indifference feels like being erased entirely.
______________
The longer the night settles around the izakaya, the more Katsuki realizes he completely misjudged what this dinner was supposed to be.
Not some polished, high-class event packed with cameras and stiff hero society bullshit.
Just an izakaya. Despite how fancy it is.
A crowded, noisy, familiar little place tucked between glowing Musutafu storefronts where the tables are too close together and the air smells like grilled meat, fried oil, spilled beer, and cigarette smoke clinging faintly to old wood. Somebody in the back is laughing loud enough to echo over the music while waiters squeeze through narrow spaces carrying trays overloaded with skewers and drinks. Half the groupâs jackets are already tossed carelessly everywhere.
Casual.
Comfortable.
The kind of place Class A used to practically live in after internships.
Which somehow makes this worse.
Because you fit into it too naturally even if youâve missed the majority of it.
Time passes eerily as Katsuki watches from across the table while Mina complains dramatically about agency interns stealing her skincare products, and you laugh so easily at something dumb Kaminari says that for a split second it genuinely feels like no time has passed at all.
Except it has.
He notices it in tiny things.
You donât interrupt people as much anymore. Back then you used to talk over everyone whenever you got excited, eyes bright and hands moving while you argued passionately about absolutely everything. Now you lean back when people speak, quieter in a way that feels more intentional than shy. You still smile the same, though. That part hits him unexpectedly hard.
Same slight squint around your eyes. Maybe a few subtle wrinkles now, that still manage to look good on you.
Same habit of hiding your laugh behind your drink or your hand sometimes.
Itâs awful how quickly he notices all of it.
A waiter slides another round of drinks onto the table, glass clinking loudly against wood.
âBakugo,â Sero grins from farther down the booth, already flushed pink from alcohol, âyouâve been weirdly quiet all night. You sick or somethinâ?â
âIâm always quiet,â Katsuki answers flatly before taking a long sip of beer.
The table immediately erupts.
âThat is literally not true,â Jirou snorts.
âShut up! It is!â
âMe when I lieâ Mina snorts.
âYou used to start fights with strangers in restaurants,â Kaminari points out.
âCorrection,â Kirishima says, grinning, âhe used to start fights with strangers everywhere.â
âI remember that guy at karaokeââ
âHe deserved it.â
âYou didnât even know him!â
Katsuki barely listens.
Because across the table, youâre smiling into your drink again, shoulders shaking slightly with quiet laughter while Mina nearly falls sideways into Ochaco from laughing too hard.
And you still wonât look at him.
Not really.
Your gaze passes over him occasionally in that absent, polite way people acknowledge furniture in crowded rooms, but nothing lingers. No awkwardness. No tension. No visible effort to avoid him either still, which somehow stings too much.
Itâs like you already adjusted to his presence within the first five minutes of arriving.
Meanwhile he feels painfully aware of every movement you make.
The way your rings tap softly against your glass.
The faint crease between your brows whenever you listen closely to someone speaking.
The small scar near your wrist he remembers kissing once while you laid half-asleep across his chest.
His stomach twists hard enough to make him irritated with himself all over again.
This is fucking ridiculous.
âBakugo.â
His head lifts automatically.
Momoâs looking at him from across the table. âDid you hear me?â
âNo.â
âI said,â she repeats patiently, âShoto wants everyone at his agency anniversary event next month too.â
Kaminari groans. âDude, you say no to everything.â
âBecause everything sounds terrible.â
âSee?â Mina points accusingly toward you. âThis is why our sweetie over here escaped the country. Weâre emotionally exhausting.â
The comment is obviously meant as a joke and the table laughs.
Even you smile.
But Katsuki feels the words land somewhere unpleasant anyway.
Before he can stop himself, his eyes flick toward you.
For the first time all night, you finally look directly back at him.
It lasts maybe two seconds!?
Three, max.
Then, when Kirishima opens his mouth itâs as if he canât stop being a moron. Like he never could have guessed what the context of âtime and placeâ is. He points at you, then Katsuki.
âRemember when you guys sneaked out during the winter festival and everyone thought you were kidnapped?â
The entire table immediately erupts.
âOh my god.â
âThey were gone for HOURSââ
âBecause SOMEONE turned their phones off,â Kaminari wheezes.
âYou guys came back looking guilty as hell,â Mina accuses dramatically.
Katsuki feels his shoulders tense instantly. He sees you shrink into a timely creature in your seat.
Back then, youâd dragged him behind the gym building because you were freezing and irritated and insisted his body temperature was âunnaturally useful.â He remembers pinning you against the wall afterward just to shut you up after you laughed at how red his ears got.
He remembers kissing you until neither of you could breathe properly.Â
The memory hits hard enough to feel physical. Youthful kisses, teenage loveâ he remembers how it felt when he kissed you first and when he had kissed you then. He remembers making out in your dorm late at night when he shouldâve been resting his injuries after the war.
Around the table, everyoneâs still laughing.
Except you.
Youâve gone still beside Mina, fingers tightening almost invisibly around your drink before you take another sip.
Then, calmly, casuallyâ
âSo,â you interrupt smoothly, turning toward Ochaco and Tsuyu instead, âhowâs hero life treating you two?â
Clean cut. Effortless for anyone who canât read behind your eyes.
The conversation immediately shifts away from the topic entirely.
Like you did it on purpose. Like the memory embarrasses you now.
Katsuki drops whatever sits at the top of his tongue like it stung too much to be spoken out loud. Like he was given a sound reminder that his words are always unnecessary.
___________
Everyone eventually becomes too careless despite the fragility of the situation.
Alcohol warms the tables steadily, loosening voices and posture until conversations start overlapping loudly across the cramped izakaya booth. Kaminari is practically hanging halfway over Sero now while arguing about hero rankings nobody else cares about, and Kirishimaâs laugh keeps booming loudly enough to earn irritated glances from nearby tables. Even more empty beer glasses crowd together beside greasy plates streaked with sauce while waiters weave expertly through the narrow aisles carrying fresh rounds of skewers and drinks.
Normally Katsuki would be right in the middle of it all.
Tonight he barely said a word, even if he found himself at your table for some reason.
Because every single time the conversation drifts naturally toward old memories involving the two of you, you choose to redirect it before it can fully land.
Always subtle enough most people probably donât notice.
But he notices.
Every single time.
When Mina starts retelling the beach trip where the two of you once again disappeared from the bonfire for over an hour, you smoothly interrupt to ask Jirou about her latest music project overseas. When Kirishima almost brings up the apartment you used to share in the heart of the city, you casually wave down the waiter and ask if anyone wants another round of drinks before he can finish the sentence.
And the worst part is how effortless you make it look.
You arenât visibly uncomfortable. You arenât tense or bitter or awkward every time his name comes up paired with yours. You navigate around him cleanly, naturally, like youâve already spent years learning exactly how to exist comfortably in spaces where even if Katsuki Bakugo is present, he can simply be erased.
The notion starts irritating him more with every passing minute. It sits tighter beneath his ribs by the second. Makes his heart beat in fragile, irregular beats.
A doctor had once told him to keep track of arhythmic beats like this.Â
Tonight he does not. But usually, he does.
Across the table, you tilt your head back slightly while laughing at something Ochaco says, fingers still loosely wrapped around your glass. The soft amber lighting from the hanging lanterns catches against your face warmly enough that Katsuki immediately looks away afterward, jaw tightening hard.
Then your phone lights up beside your plate.
His eyes catch it automatically, assumption quick to replace every spec of vermilion in his irises.
A name flashes briefly across the screen before you casually turn the phone face down against the table.
Itâs a nickname paired with a heart.
It could be a friend, but for that heâs unconvinced.
Something twists violently low in Katsukiâs stomach.
Immediate. Sharp enough to genuinely piss him off.
Three years.
Obviously thereâs somebody else now.
What the hell did he expect? That you spent years overseas grieving a relationship that ended with both of you saying things cruel enough to permanently carve into each other?
His fingers curl tighter around his beer glass.
Mina notices instantly.
Her eyes flick carefully between him and you before she awkwardly clears her throat. âOkay, wow,â she says carefully, trying to laugh through the tension, âthis table energyâs getting kinda weird.â
âOnly because your face gets louder every time you drink,â Jirou answers dryly without looking up from her glass.
âNo, seriously,â Mina insists now, glancing more cautiously toward Katsuki. âEverybodyâs acting strange.â
âNobodyâs acting strange,â you answer calmly before finally looking directly at Katsuki for the second time all night.
And somehow that feels worse.
You really are fine. Not pretending. Not secretly emotional underneath the surface. Fiâne. Almost too cold.
You are completely, genuinely fine sitting across from him after three years apart.
Something reckless rises inside his chest almost immediately.
âYou got somethinâ to say?â Katsuki asks suddenly, attention fully turned to you. âThen say it to my face.â
For once, he manages to keep your eyes in his.
The table quiets.
Not completely, but enough that nearby conversations and clinking glasses start bleeding awkwardly into the silence between your group.
Your brows pull together faintly before rising. âWhat?â
âYouâve barely looked at me all night.â
âWhy would I?â
When you respond, Kirishima visibly winces beside him.
âBakugo,â he mutters quietly under his breath.
An effort for calmness that pays out fruitless soil. Katsuki barely hears him now that the irritationâs already pushing its way out.
âNo, seriously,â he continues, eyes locked onto yours. âWhatâs the deal?â
The atmosphere around the table shifts immediately.
Mina looks horrified. Izuku suddenly looks like he wants the floor to physically open beneath himâhe hasnât said anything about you up till now. Not on the phone, not in the car when Katsuki snapped like broken glass at every single thing. He didnât even say anything about you when Katsuki told him that if he treats everyone like theyâre special, then no one really is special to him. (When does Katsuki ever get so emotional?)
Even Kaminari goes quiet for once.
You stare at Katsuki from across the table for a long moment, expression unreadable beneath the warm restaurant lighting. Then you blink slowly before setting your drink down carefully against the table.
ââŚThereâs no deal. You made sure of that.â
The calmness in your voice instantly makes his irritation worse.
âYouâve been ignoring me all night.â
âNo,â you answer evenly, âIâve been talking to everyone.â
âExcept me.â
The silence afterward settles heavily between you both.
Around the table, nobody moves. The noise of the izakaya suddenly feels distant compared to the pressure building in the booth. You lean back slightly in your seat, eyes finally holding his properly instead of sliding politely past him like earlier.
âWhat exactly are you expecting from me here, Katsuki?â
The question catches him off guard immediately.
Not because of the words but because of the exhaustion in your tone that has completely replaced anger.
âI dunno,â he answers flatly, defensive before he can stop himself. âBasic acknowledgement maybe.â
You stare at him another second before letting out a small breath through your nose. Not dramatic. Not emotional. Just tired.
âI said hi when you walked in.â
âNo,â Katsuki says immediately, âyou said hi to Eijiro.â
Kaminari audibly mutters âoh my god, bets. Bets now!â under his breath before Mina immediately kicks him hard beneath the table.
Your fingers tap once lightly against your glass before stilling again completely.
Then, finally, something shifts in your expression.
And itâs not sadness.
Just plain right resignation. Like youâve already given up.
Because now everybody at the table is looking literally anywhere except the two of you. Kirishima suddenly becomes very interested in his drink. Ochaco stares fixedly at the condensation sliding down her glass. Even Sero awkwardly clears his throat under his breath.
âFuck yeah, stop playing games.â
You hold Katsukiâs gaze the entire time when you speak again.
âI ainât got shit to say to you in front of everyone.â You say, bluntly, âbut since you say we donât have to play games, I didnât ignore you because I hate you,â you continue. âI ignored you because every single time I look at you, I remember the last conversation we had.â
The words land directly against his sternum. Heavy. Sharp like a swirly blade and enough that for a second he genuinely forgets how to respond.
The memory crashes back immediately whether he wants it to or not.
Rain hammering against pavement outside the apartment.
You crying so hard your voice kept shaking despite how badly you tried hiding it.
Him saying things he knew would hurt before they even left his mouth.
You standing there afterward like heâd physically reached inside your chest and twisted something apart with his bare hands.
âI wish I never met you.â
Katsuki remembers that part perfectly.
Worse, he remembers exactly what he said right before to make you say it. Something cruel. Something calculated. Something along the lines of âyouâre lying to yourself when you say you love me.â
Because back then hurting each other always came easier than admitting how badly neither of you wanted things to end.
Across the table, your expression remains composed, but now he notices the strain sitting carefully beneath it. The effort itâs taking you to stay this calm. To keep your voice level instead of letting old wounds split open in front of everyone.
âIâm not trying to make tonight uncomfortable,â you continue more quietly now. âI came because Iâm back in Japan and I missed everyone. Thatâs all.â
Everyone.
But not specifically him.
The distinction settles ugly and heavy enough inside his chest that he and everyone else in this room are short of words
The atmosphere around the table changes only when the emergency hero alert rings on everyoneâs phones.
Around you, everybody moves at once.
Years of training erase the awkwardness almost instantly. Drinks abandoned. Jackets pulled on. Conversations cut short mid-sentence while tables scrape across wood flooring. The emotional wreckage sitting between you and Katsuki gets shoved violently aside beneath instinct and urgency.
You stand automatically too.
And for one humiliating second, relief floods through you so fast it almost makes your knees weak. Because now you donât have to stay sitting across from him anymore.
You donât have to survive whatever expression is currently sitting on Katsukiâs face after what you just said.
You donât have to keep pretending your heart isnât beating so hard it physically hurts.
The group spills out into the cold Musutafu night in a rush of noise and movement. Sirens already echo faintly somewhere ahead, reflecting red against rain-slick pavement while civilians stop to stare at the sudden crowd of pro heroes flooding onto the sidewalk.
You breathe in sharply the second cold air hits your lungs.
It helps. Barely. Your hands still feel shaky and so fucking stupid..
Because the worst partâthe genuinely humiliating partâis that none of what you said was a lie.
You did ignore Katsuki because looking at him hurts.
But not in the way everyone at that table probably assumed. Everyone, including him, thinks itâs because you stopped loving him.
And honestly thatâwouldâve been easier.
The problem is, that standing across from Katsuki after three years still feels dangerously close to standing too near an open flame. Like one wrong moment of weakness could drag you straight back into him before you remember all the reasons you left in the first place.
And Godâyou wanted to.
Thatâs the pathetic part.
The second he walked into the restaurant tonight, broad shoulders filling the doorway, looking so pretty even if all the boyish charm had abandoned his face for good, while his eyes immediately found yours across the room, something inside your chest reacted so violently you almost forgot how to breathe.
Three years.
Three whole fucking years.
And your body still recognized him instantly.
You hated that.
Hated how good he looked. Hated how familiar his voice sounded. Hated that even now, after everything, some traitorous part of you still wanted to walk straight across the room and touch him just to prove he was real. Kiss him so you at least be able to go back to your friends overseas and let them know you got the kiss of closure youâve been wanting so desperately.Â
But you knew better now.
You had to know better now.
Because loving Katsuki always felt like standing too close to an explosion and convincing yourself the heat wasnât burning you alive.
You pull your hair back quickly while jogging after the others down the crowded sidewalk, the heels of your boots striking wet pavement hard enough to ground you back into the present. Neon signs blur overhead while people move aside hurriedly at the sight of pro heroes rushing past.
Beside you, Ochaco glances over briefly.
âYou okay?â
The question is gentle enough to make your throat tighten unexpectedly.
âYeah,â you answer immediately.
Too quickly.
Ochacoâs expression softens in that awful way people look at wounded animals they arenât sure how to help. That facade that all heroes put on when theyâre helping a missing child find their mommy.
You look away to let her go before she can say anything else.
Ahead of the group, Katsuki is already moving faster than everyone else, irritation practically radiating off him in waves while sparks crackle faintly against his palms. The familiar sight hits somewhere deep in your chest with painful precision.
God.
There he isâ Still carrying himself like the entire world personally offended him for existing.
And somehow you still love him enough it makes you feel sick.
You wonder briefly if he knows.
If heâs always known and if so, why heâs denying it.
Maybe thatâs what made the breakup so unbearable in the first place. Katsuki understood exactly how much power he had over you, and every time he got scared of needing someone that badly in return, he lashed out before you could hurt him first.
________
The robbery cleanup drags longer than expected.
Statements. Damage reports. Civilians needing reassurance. Media helicopters circling overhead long enough to become irritating background noise.
By the time everything finally settles, the sky above Musutafu has turned that heavy shade of black and blue. The streets are quieter now, washed silver beneath streetlights while exhausted civilians slowly reclaim the sidewalks. Neon signs remain glowing in the background of it all.
Katsuki feels wrung out.
Not physically, though. Physically heâs fine. His heart, at least, has finally stopped palpitating. Itâs everything else which isnât his heart that's clawing at the inside of his chest thatâs making him tired.
After an agonizing thirty minutes of broken communications on splitting the bill with everyone else, he gets dragged into easy conversation.
âAlright, alright,â Kaminari groans dramatically while stretching his arms over his head. âIâm officially declaring tonight cursed.â
âYou declare everything cursed,â Mina replies instantly.
âBecause everything is cursed.â
Kirishima snorts beside them while Izuku adjusts the strap of his gauntlets. âAt least nobody got seriously hurt.â
âYeah,â Katsuki mutters distractedly, digging his car keys from his pocket.
His mind hasnât stopped replaying the familiar sound of your voice through your conversation for the past twenty minutes. The kind of familiar that dug straight under his skin and stayed there.
Katsuki hates how much those words affected him. Hates that part of him wanted to turn around and ask what the hell that tone meant after everything thatâs happened between you before leaving for his hero duties.
Instead, he shoved it down where everything else goes. The pit of his dropping stomach.
The group behind him, after enthusiastically rejoicing and pleading for even a sight of his car, reaches the parking structure entrance together with him, footsteps echoing faintly through the concrete levels while fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Minaâs still talking about how good the food was. Kirishimaâs half-listening while Denki complains loudly about tomorrowâs paperwork.
Normal. Everything feels painfully normal again.
Izuku has already left to chase after Ochaco. Katsuki gets to go home with one less friend to lash out on and half a heart.
âLater, man,â Kirishima says to a far away Izuku raising a hand.
Katsuki barely listens while waving him off with a lazy flick of his hand.
Then he sees you. And every thought in his head immediately cuts clean in half.
Youâre standing beside his car. leaning against it casually. Not waiting in some cinematic pose.
Just there.
Hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket while cool garage lighting spills softly across your face. You look tired now. More tired than you did at dinner. Hair slightly messy. Faint smudges of eyeliner still near the corners of your eyes.
Real. Thatâs the first thing that hits him. Just you. Waiting for him.
Kirishima notices you first from the whole group.
âOh, hi.â
Mina stops talking.
Denkiâs eyes widen slightly before darting rapidly between both of you like he accidentally walked into live explosives.
Katsukiâs pulse kicks hard once against his ribs and his neck.
You look at him quietly before speaking.
ââŚCan we talk?â
Simple words. Calm voice. And somehow they hit harder than that joke of an argument earlier.
Nobody moves for about two seconds. Then Katsuki clicks his tongue sharply without taking his eyes off you.
The concern. The donât blow this up worse look sitting all over his face.
âTch,â Katsuki mutters. âIâm not gonna start shit in a parking garage.â
âThatâs not super reassuring when you phrase it like that,â Mina says.
You huff out the faintest breath beside the carâalmost a laugh.
The sound catches Katsuki off guard badly enough that his eyes flick toward you automatically. Because he forgot for a second what it sounded like when your amusement wasnât forced. Heâs forgotten what it was like when he used to make you laugh, being so caught up in the destruction of it all.
Kirishima notices too. Something in his expression softens before he finally sighs heavily and throws his hands up. âAlright, alright. Weâre leaving.â
âBut if either of you commits emotional crimes,â Mina warns dramatically while walking backward toward the elevator, âIâm intervening.â
âYou say that like youâre emotionally qualified to help anybody,â Katsuki shoots back automatically. âOr like you have to wait around here.â
âSee? This is why therapy should be mandatory for heroes!â
The elevator doors of the garage close over the sound of Denki cackling.
And then theyâre gone.
Silence settles almost immediately afterward. Not awkward exactly.
The parking structure hums quietly around you both, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead while distant traffic echoes faintly from outside. Somewhere farther down the level, water drips steadily from a pipe into concrete.
Katsuki shoves one hand into his pocket to stop himself from fidgeting.
You still havenât moved from beside his car.
Up close now, he notices the exhaustion sitting beneath your eyes properly. The careful composure from dinner looks thinner somehow. Like tonight finally wore through it.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. Thenâ
âYou really think I hate you?â you ask quietly.
The question lands so directly he almost flinches.
Katsukiâs jaw tightens automatically. âYou ignored me for four fuckinâ hours.â
âI ignored you because I was trying not to ruin my own night.â
That catches him off guard enough to shut him up briefly.
You look away first, arms folding tighter across yourself.
âI spent three years trying to get over you,â you admit quietly. âDo you understand how humiliating it is that seeing you again almost reset all of it instantly?â
Katsuki feels something sharp twist low in his chest.
Because your voice still doesn't sound angry. It sounds like youâre simple frustrated with yourself.
âI didnât know what version of you was gonna walk into that restaurant tonight,â you continue. âAnd honestly? I was scared that if I talked to you normally for even five minutes, Iâd forget why we broke up in the first place.â
The parking garage suddenly feels too small, too warm. Katsuki stares at you, heartbeat starting to thud harder beneath his ribs again in a way that has nothing to do with fighting anymore. He starts thinking of every single moment today where his thoughts remained the same as yours.
You laugh softly then, but thereâs no humor in it.
âAnd the worst part is,â you murmur, eyes dropping briefly toward the concrete floor, âI still wanted you to come sit next to me. I keep thinking I want the goodbye kiss that I never got. I can never fully leave you behind and I think itâs just because I donât want to. Last year when you messaged me, I found myself excited at the thought of us getting back together.
The words hit him harder than any fight tonight did.
Just honest enough to split something open clean down the middle.
Katsuki stares at you like he genuinely forgot how to move for a second. Because heâd prepared himself for anger; âresentment, perhaps. Even the mischellanious instant where youâd be maybe telling him you moved on and he was pathetic for still carrying pieces of this -you- around like shrapnel under his skin.
He didnât prepare himself himself for this right now in any of his overthinking scenarios.
You standing in front of him at nearly two two in the morning, exhausted and vulnerable and still admitting you wanted him back once too. The million dollar question is: do you still?
The fluorescent lights of the parking lot above you the two of you flicker faintly. Somewhere deeper in the garage, a car alarm chirps once before falling silent againâKatsuki barely hears any of it.
âWhen I saw your message,â you continue more quietly, âI remember staring at my phone like an idiot for an hour before answering.â A weak laugh leaves you. âMy friend literally had to pry it out of my hands because I kept rereading it.â
His chest tightens painfully.
Because he remembers sending that message.
Sitting alone in his apartment after patrol with alcohol burning down his throat while he typed and deleted different versions of I miss you for nearly twenty minutes before settling on something colder instead. Something easier.
âWhy would you fucking unblock me?â
Pathetic.
âYou sounded angry,â you admit softly. âBut I still kept hoping maybe underneath it⌠maybe you missed me enough to try again.â
Katsuki looks away sharply, jaw flexing hard.
He did.
Thatâs the worst fucking part.
He remembers pacing around his kitchen waiting for your replies like his life depended on them. Remembers the stupid spike of hope every time his phone buzzed. Remembers ruining the entire conversation because the second things started feeling vulnerable again, panic crawled viciously straight up his spine and turned everything mean.
Same old him as always.
âYou told me I never changed,â he mutters roughly.
Your expression shifts slightly at that. Not regret exactly. Something sadder.
âBecause you hadnât.â
The honesty stings immediately because part of him knows youâre right. Back then heâd still been treating love like a fight he needed to win before somebody could abandon him first. Katsuki drags a hand hard down his face before laughing once under his breath. Bitter. Exhausted.
âYeah,â he mutters. âProbably deserved that one.â
Silence settles again after that. Raw, void of the hostility every other silence between you tonight. However, this time, the hostility of any previous silence between you tonight, is missing. Everything is raw and open like an oozing, fresh wound.
Had that been the case, heâd known better of.
Youâre still standing near his car with your arms folded tightly across yourself like youâre physically holding your own chest together. Katsuki notices your fingers trembling slightly against your sleeves.
Youâre nervous.
That realization hits unexpectedly hard too. Because he also forgot what it felt like knowing he could still affect you like this.
âI hated you for a while,â you admit suddenly, voice quieter now. âOrâI tried to, at least, at least.â You shake your head faintly. âI wanted to, anyway. It wouldâve made moving on easier.â
Katsuki doesnât interrupt.
Doesnât trust himself to.
âBut then stupid things kept happening,â you continue, eyes unfocused now like youâre talking more to yourself than him. âIâd hear someone laugh like you at work and my whole day would get weird after. Or somebody would burn coffee and suddenly Iâd remember your apartment.â Another soft, embarrassed laugh. âThereâs this hero overseas that yells exactly like you during meetings. I almost walked out the first time because I started tearing up.â
Something dangerously warm starts spreading low in Katsukiâs chest.
Not ego. Not satisfaction.
Something worseâHope.
Small and so fragile and so, so terrifying. and plainlyâ
You finally look back up at him then, expression open in a way he hasnât seen in years.
âAnd honestly?â you say quietly, âI think part of me kept waiting for you to come after me.â
That one nearly knocks the air clean out of him.
Because he wanted to.
God, he wanted to.
He remembers standing in airports during patrol assignments wondering what country you were in. Remembers opening your chat box dozens of timesâ knowing which one it was simply by how many weeks ago was your last conversationâ just to close it again before typing anything. Remembers seeing your name finally appear in his Instagram chat box instead of âUserâ and feeling his stomach drop so hard he had to sit down.
But wanting something and knowing how to hold onto it were always two different things for him.
Katsuki swallows hard before speaking.
âYou said you wished you never met me.â
Your face changes instantly. Pain flickers there, between your worried brows so quickly he almost misses it.
âI know.â
âYou meant it?â
âNo,â you answer immediately.
Too fast for it to not be honest. Katsuki would crack up a cocky smile if the sound of its admission didnât hook directly beneath his ribs.
You inhale shakily afterward, eyes dropping again.
âI said it because I wanted to hurt you back,â you admit. âAnd because youâd just spent an hour making me feel stupid and calling me a liar for telling you i loved you.â
The words land heavy between you both. Katsuki feels nausea twist unpleasantly in his stomach because he remembers that night perfectly now more than any other time.
Not just the fight.
Your face.
The way you looked at him like you were begging him to give you one reason to stay softer with each other instead of turning everything into a bloodbath.
And he had spectacularly failed, spectacularly.
âYou really thought I didnât love you?â you ask suddenly, quieter now.
And since the answer to your question is humiliating, Katsukiâs throat feels tight.
ââŚYeah.â
You stare at him for a long moment after that. Then you laugh again, but this time it sounds closer to heartbreak.
âKatsuki,â you whisper softly, âI moved across the world and still couldnât stop loving you properly.â
That one hurts.
Not in a bad way.
Worse.
Because suddenly all three years between you feel unbearably visible at once. Every missed call never made. Every airport not boarded. Every message typed and deleted. Every lonely apartment. Every night spent pretending this wasnât still sitting unfinished between you both. It never actually had to be that way.Â
Katsuki looks at you standing there beneath harsh garage lighting with tired eyes and shaky hands and too much honesty spilling out at once and realizes, with horrifying clarity, that if you were to claim your goodbye kiss; if you so as kissed him right now, he genuinely doesnât think heâd survive it quietly.
Neither of you says anything for a while after that.
The parking garage hums quietly around you, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead in uneven intervals while rainwater drips somewhere deeper in the structure with slow, hollow echoes. The city outside has started slipping into that strange hour between night and morning where everything feels softer around the edges. Traffic is thinner now. The distant sounds of Musutafu blur together into something low and tired beneath the concrete silence.
Katsuki can hear your breathing.
Not because the garage is particularly quiet, but because heâs standing too close to you again after three years and his body keeps locking onto every tiny thing automatically.
The way your shoulders rise slightly every time you inhale. The faint tremble still lingering in your fingers. The exhaustion sitting beneath your eyes.
You look nothing like the polished, untouchable version of yourself he built up in his head over the past few years. Standing here now, you just look human again.
Real enough to ache over.
To you⌠Does he look that way too?
âLetâs go, Iâll take you home.â Katsuki shifts his weight once before dragging a hand through his hair roughly. âWe should probably get outta here before Mina decides to come back and interrogate us.â
The corner of your mouth twitches faintly. âThat implies she never actually left.â
âSheâs probably hiding behind a concrete pillar right now.â
âShe absolutely is.â
The tiny bit of shared amusement loosens something dangerously fragile between you both.
Katsuki unlocks the car with a sharp click of the key fob. Then you glance toward the passenger side before looking back at him again, uncertainty flickering briefly across your expression like youâre second-guessing whether this is a good idea.
Honestly, heâs wondering the same thing.
Because every second around you tonight has felt like standing near something unstable with no self-control left to keep his hands off it.
Still, he opens the passenger door for you anyway.
You hesitate only a second before climbing inside.
The interior of the car smells faintly like leather, rain, and burnt caramel coffee from whatever drive-through Kirishima dragged him through earlier this week. Soft dashboard lights glow low against the dark while droplets of rain slide slowly down the windshield overhead. The city reflects across the glass in blurred streaks of neon and gold.
Katsuki rounds the front of the car slowly, pulse thudding heavier with every step.
By the time he slides into the driverâs seat, the air inside already feels too warm.
Youâre sitting angled slightly toward the window, arms folded loosely across yourself while the glow from passing streetlights softens the side of your face. Your makeupâs mostly worn off by now. Thereâs still a faint smear of eyeliner and mascara at the corner of your eye.
He has to physically stop himself from reaching over to wipe it away.
Silence settles again, but itâs different inside the car.
The enclosed space presses everything tighter together until even breathing feels too noticeable.
Katsuki rests one hand against the steering wheel without starting the engine. âSo what now?â
You let out a quiet breath through your nose before leaning your head back against the seat. âI donât know.â you sigh âI didnât really think this far ahead.â
âYeah,â he mutters. âMe neither.â
Rain starts tapping lightly against concrete again. Thin at first. Then steadier.
Your eyes drift toward the sound automatically. âIt always rains when we talk about serious shit.â
Katsuki snorts softly before he can stop himself. âThatâs because you always picked fights during storms.â
âI did not.â
âYou absolutely did.â
A small laugh escapes you then, quieter than before but real enough that something in his chest twists painfully around it. God, he missed that sound. Missed sitting beside you while conversations slipped this easily between silence and teasing without either of you forcing it.
A newer realization scares him a little; It would be so easy to fall right back into this. Too easy.
You turn toward him slightly then, knees shifting against the seat. âCan I ask you something?â
âTch. You usually do anyway.â
Your eyes narrow faintly at the automatic attitude, but thereâs no real heat behind it now. âWhy didnât you come after me?â
The question settles heavily into the space between you both.
Katsukiâs jaw tightens immediately.
Outside, headlights slide briefly across the windshield before disappearing down the garage ramp. He watches the reflections fade instead of looking directly at you.
âDidnât think you wanted me to.â
âThatâs not what I asked.â
Of course it isnât.
You were always annoyingly good at pulling honesty out of him even when he fought it.
Katsuki exhales slowly through his nose before speaking. âBecause I thought if I showed up and you looked happier without meâŚâ He laughs once under his breath, rough and humorless. âDidnât think I could handle that. Itâd just fucking prove iâm hard to love and youâre better without me.â
The space between you afterward feels fragile.
When he finally looks over, your expression has softened into something unbearably tender.
Fuck, fuckâFuck.
âYouâre an idiot,â you murmur quietly.
Thereâs no cruelty in it. Maybe a tad of acceptance. A smear of sadness.
Your eyes flick downward briefly then back to his face, and suddenly Katsuki becomes painfully aware of how close youâre sitting. The center console feels too small now. The air feels thick with old history and exhaustion and everything neither of you managed to bury properly.
His gaze drops to your mouth before he can stop it.
He notices immediately when your breathing changes.
Slight.
Barely there.
But enough.
The tension inside the car shifts all at once after that.
Not explosive and immediate, like heâs used to. Itâs slow and dangerous. Like something pulling tighter inch by inch.
Katsukiâs fingers flex once against the steering wheel. âTell me to stop looking at you like that.â
Your throat moves subtly when you swallow.
âYou first.â
Fuck. Shit!
The flirtiness in your tone hits him hard enough to feel somewhere low in his stomach.
Rain streaks slower down the windshield now, blurring neon lights outside into smeared ribbons of color while the heater hums faintly beneath the dashboard. The whole car feels suspended outside time somehow. Separate from the rest of the city. With nothing left to do but park at the side of the road, Katsuki swerves the steering wheel towards his new direction.
When he shuts off the engine, youâre the one who moves first.
Barely.
Just enough to lean a little closer and more tentative toward him. Youâre giving him room to pull away if he wants to.
Katsuki doesnât. Neither pull away, nor want to.
His hand reaches for your face almost automatically, rough palm settling carefully against your jaw like muscle memory never left him at all. The contact pulls a shaky breath from you instantly, and that sound alone nearly destroys whatever restraint he still has left.
He kisses you before he can think too hard about it.
And it feels exactly like coming home to something he convinced himself no longer existed.
Warm.
Familiar.
Devastating.
You make this tiny broken noise against his mouth the second the kiss lands properly, fingers grabbing instinctively at the front of his shirt like you need something solid to hold onto. Katsuki feels his entire chest cave inward around the feeling of you kissing him back just as desperately. His lips ache with buzzing numbness and he tries his very best to even remember the steps to a kiss heâs trained to fit perfectly into.
Three years of missing each other crashes together all at once inside that kiss.
His other hand slides against your waist, pulling you closer over the center console while rain drums steadily overhead. Your lips part against his almost immediately, breath shaky and uneven as the kiss deepens into something messier. Hungrier.
Katsuki kisses like heâs starving.
Always has.
Like every emotion he doesnât know how to say properly gets forced violently through his hands and mouth instead.
You remember that instantly.
He feels it in the way your fingers tighten against him. The way your breathing starts breaking apart every time he kisses you harder. The way you lean into him like you missed this just as badly as he did.
When you finally pull back for air, neither of you gets very far.
Your forehead rests shakily against his while both of you breathe the same recycled air inside the dark car. Katsukiâs hand is still cupping your jaw. Your fingers are still twisted tightly into his shirt.
With one swift movement, Katsukiâs hand forces your jaw right into his, your lips slamming against each other's once again.
The kiss turns rough immediately.
Not careless âNever careless with you.
Katsukiâs just overwhelmed by the sheer force of finally having you this close again after years spent trying to convince himself he could survive without it.
Your breath catches sharply against his mouth when he kisses you deeper this time, fingers twisting harder into the front of his shirt while the center console digs awkwardly against your hip from how far youâve leaned toward him. Rain continues sliding steadily down the windshield outside, blurring neon lights into streaks of gold and red across the dark interior of the car.
Katsuki barely notices any of it anymore.
All he can focus on is you.
The warmth of your mouth.
The familiar way you melt and tense at the same time whenever he kisses you too hard.
The shaky inhale you keep failing to steady every time his thumb brushes beneath your jaw.
His chest feels unbearably tight.
Because this isnât nostalgia anymore.
It isnât just memory. Youâre actually here. Actually kissing him back with enough desperation that it almost hurts.
A strained sound escapes him before he can stop it, muffled against your lips while he pulls you even closer over the console. His hand slips from your jaw into your hair, fingers curling carefully at the base of your neck like he physically cannot stand another inch of distance between you both.
You break the kiss first this time, but only barely. Only enough for more air.
Your lips still brush his when you speak.
âKatsukiââ
His name falls apart halfway through your breath, soft enough that he nearly loses whatever remains of his self-control entirely.
Because you still say his name the same way.
But now he knows it means something. He can accept it means something.
Katsukiâs forehead presses hard against yours while he tries and fails to regulate his breathing. The inside of the car suddenly feels too hot, thick with condensation and recycled air and of unresolved feelings collapsing violently into each other all at once.
âYou gotta stop lookinâ at me like that,â he mutters hoarsely.
Your brows pull together faintly. âLike what?â
âLike you and i willââ He cuts himself off immediately, jaw tightening hard enough to ache.
The words refuse to come out cleanly.
You stare at him for a second too long after that, your expression softening into something that almost looks painful.
âKatsuki,â you whisper quietly, âI literally just told you I couldnât move on.â
Yeah. He knows.
And somehow hearing it still doesnât feel real.
âBut if we yâknowânow,â he coughs âmaybe youâll regret it.â
His eyes search your face automatically like heâs trying to find evidence that this is temporary. That youâll wake up tomorrow and realize kissing him again was a mistake. That eventually youâll remember all the reasons loving him became unbearable in the first place.
The fear must show somewhere across his expression because your hand suddenly lifts toward his face.
Your fingertips brush against the side of his jaw where the faint razor burn still sits from earlier tonight, and the tenderness behind the touch nearly destroys him more effectively than the kissing did.
âKatsuki, are you talking about sex?â you murmur softly, whispering the last word extensively.Â
A weak huff of laughter leaves him despite himself. His lower lip pouts out.
âYou always get this line between your eyebrows whenever you get shy like this.â
Your thumb smooths unconsciously against the spot moments later like muscle memory. Katsuki feels his stomach twist painfully around the familiarity of it.
God.
He missed this.
Not even the kissing specifically. Not even the sex. (And heâs missed these two plenty)
Just this.
You knowing him so instinctively that his body reacts before his brain catches up.
âI wouldnât regret it. Iâve wanted it so much even though I was convinced itâd never happen again. I canât regret doing something that I want to do.â
Your words settle heavy enough in his chest that suddenly he needs to kiss you again before he says something humiliating.
His mouth crashes back against yours harder this time.
You make another soft noise into the kiss immediately, one that sounds dangerously close to heartbreak, and Katsuki swears he feels the sound straight through his ribs. His hand tightens carefully at the back of your neck while your fingers slide upward into his hair, slightly damp strands catching between your knuckles.
The angle is awkward across the center console.
Neither of you cares.
Your knee bumps clumsily against the gear shift while Katsuki leans further toward you, broad shoulders pressing you deeper into the passenger seat unintentionally from the sheer force of how badly heâs kissing you now. Every breath between you feels uneven. Messy. Shared.
Three years disappears frighteningly fast like this. Just temporarily drowned beneath the overwhelming relief of finally touching each other again.
Katsuki feels your hand trembling slightly where it cups the side of his face.
The realization makes him pull back barely enough to look at you.
Your lips are swollen now. Eyes glassy beneath the dashboard glow while your breathing comes apart in shallow bursts that mirror his almost exactly. Then your expression shifts suddenly, something vulnerable flickering across it fast enough to make his chest tighten again.
âWhat if we do this again?â you ask quietly. âWhat if we try again and it ruins us worse this time?â
The question lands hard because itâs real. Not dramatic or hypothetical. Youâre genuinely afraid. Because itâs been over three years since youâve kissed, even more since you were intimate with each other, since you held an actual conversation.
And honestly? So is he.
Katsuki stares at you in the dim car lighting while rain taps softly overhead, your fingers still resting against his jaw like youâre scared to let go completely.
Then, slowly, he turns his head just enough to press a kiss against the center of your palm,vermillion eyes locked in yours..
The gesture feels strangely vulnerable coming from him.
âI think,â he says roughly afterward, eyes still fixed on yours, too sceptical, âit already ruined us the first time.â His thumb brushes carefully against your waist, then, sensually across your ribs âDidnât stop either of us from wanting it again.â
It feels strangely fragile now that the adrenaline of finally kissing each other has settled slightly. Not awkward exactly. Just painfully real in a way neither of you can hide from anymore.Â
Neither of you seems fully willing to let go first.
You look mentally exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones and bleeds across the surface of your skin; heart beating fast, eyes wide open and desperate. Katsuki, for worse luck despite it all, probably looks the same.
Your eyes drift downward briefly before you let out a small breath through your nose. âThis is probably a terrible idea.â
Katsuki huffs quietly. âYeah.â
âBut I really donât care right now.â you admit âdo you?â
âHell nah!â
Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist
~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2026. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work //
Likes and reblogs are so appreciated but if you you liked this you can let me know in the comments <3
Katsuki has already turned seventeen by the time you wake up from your coma. Despite the late nights he spends at the hospital by your side, when you wake up, he is inevitably, at school. You wake up to Mitsuki Bakugo holding your hand.
Tags/CW: Bakugo x fem! Reader, high school sweethearts, estab! relationship, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, reader in a coma after the war, class 2-A is a soft menace, mom (in law lmao) Mitsuki is mothering, spoilers for season 8.
Despite it being hard to accept at the state you find yourself in, or even realise it at first, Mitsuki is the one by your bedside when you wake up.
For a second youâre convinced youâre dreaming. The room is too bright, the sheets too stiff, and Katsukiâs mom is sitting there like she fought her way past three nurses and a steel door just to sit and stare at you. Which, knowing her, she probably did.
Her arms are crossed, but her foot is tapping like sheâs been waiting a long time. Like sheâs been worried. And that solemn look on her face is screaming an apology you donât recognise yet.
ââBout time,â she mutters, voice sharp but thin around the edges. âYou scared the hell out of us, kid.â
Your throat tightens as you glance, puzzled, around the room. Itâs empty, aside from Mitsuki's chair, your bed, and the iv attached to the tender inside of your elbow. No friends, no parents, not a begrunting boyfriend⌠just Mitsuki and a hospital room you donât recognise.
In a swift movement, she clasps your hand inside her palms. âIâm sorry sweetheart. Your parents couldnât make it to Japan yet.â she says and you blink at her.Â
The lump in your throat starts bubbling in pain. Your lip quivers next, eyes watering at the fraction of a second. The moment you try to move, the dull ache in your ribs reminds you why youâre here in the first place.
âIâm so sorry,â
You try to speak, but find your lips feel like theyâre glued together. It hurts when you pry them and it hurts even worse when you try to speak.
âKaââ
Panic ensues at the sound of your voice. How long have you been here? You donât even recognise your own voice. Where you could hear softness, you now hear raspiness, broken sounds that canât form a word.
But still, you want to askâThe last thing you remember is watching Katsuki fall to the ground with his chest torn, you lurching towards Shigaraki with all you had and white hot pain everywhere in your body.
âKatsâKaahââ
Mitsukiâs eyes flick to your abdomen, the monitors attached to you, then back to you again. Softer, barely âKatsuki? He usually doesnât leave until he passes out sitting up. Bratâs got stubbornness.â
âMissâMitsukâMitsuki, my mâmom,â
The sound rips out of you like gravel dragged across concrete, and Mitsuki is already movingâ one hand on your shoulder, the other hovering like she wants to fix something she canât reach.
âHey, heyâ donât force it,â she says, voice dropping into that hushed, frantic register only mothers have when something hurts their kid. Or a kid who might as well be theirs.
She reaches for the small cup of ice chips on the tray next to your bed, scooping a few with the spoon and pressing it gently to your lips. âJust this, sweetheart. Slow.â
The cold hits your tongue, sharp and clean, and for a moment itâs the only thing keeping you together. Everything else feels like itâs drifting âyour memories, your breath, the distant echo of Nejire screaming your name before everything went dark.
Mitsuki watches you swallow, her jaw tight, eyes shining with things she will never say out loud.
âYouâve been out for a few months,â she adds quietly. âMasaru is trying to get ahold of your folks, along with the doctors but⌠you know how time zones are. And⌠circumstances.â Her mouth twists like she hates how uptight sheâs being. Like practiced softness physically pains her. âWe didnât want you waking up alone.â
Your chest pulls tight. It shouldnât mean as much as it does. But it does.
Your fingers clutch weakly at the blanket. âKââ The name falls apart in your throat again.
Mitsuki seems to understand anyway.
âHeâs alive,â she says firmly. âHeâs at school and heâs healing, but heâs alive. Stubborn little shit tried to pretend he wasnât feeling okay just so they wouldnât kick him out of your room last night. Heâs been visiting everyday.â
Your breath shudders. Relief hits so hard you feel dizzy.
âAndâ just so you donât freak out laterââ Mitsuki adds, rubbing your hand with her thumb in a rare, almost guilty motion, âhe might start crying a lot.â
That makes you freeze.
Mitsuki sighs, leaning back in the chair like the confession took something out of her. She stops herself from telling you the doctors had announced to everyone that you would probably not make it, not too long ago.
âDonât tell him I said that. Heâll yell at both of us.â
She glances toward the door, then back at you. âHeâs gonna be pissed you woke up without him here. Believe me. But, weâll tell him after classes are over. You okay with that sweetheart?â
You nod, or at least you think you do. Your head barely moves, just a slow dip that makes the world tilt a little. Youâre not sure if youâre agreeing or just reacting to the tenderness in her voice â something youâve never quite heard directed at you like this, so softly, before.
âGood,â Mitsuki murmurs, like she was bracing for you to argue. Her hand squeezes yours gently, thumb brushing over the back in a slow, steady rhythm that feels like itâs meant to keep you anchored.
You swallow again, rough and painful. The word âclassesâ sticks in your mind like a burr. Katsuki is⌠at school. The school is alright if thatâs the case, and maybe, your friends are too, your teachers, All Might. Thereâs so much you want to ask, but such little strength inside you.
Mitsuki watches your face carefully. âHe wanted to skip,â she says, rolling her eyes as if the memory frustrates her. âSaid he didnât care about his damn education if you wereââ She cuts herself off. Too sharp. Too honest.
Another small, guilty sigh. âAnyway. We made him go. The teachers insisted. Kid was a wreck. No sleep, no food⌠I swear he almost blew up a vending machine because someone told him to âkeep his chin up.ââ
Despite the pain, a weak ghost of a laugh bubbles in your chest â a tiny sound, but it pulls at your ribs like something tearing.
Mitsuki immediately notices. âEasy. Easy, sweetheart,â she whispers, leaning in, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. âYou donât have to talk yet. You donât have to do anything yet.â
But you want to. You want to ask what happened, how bad it was, whether Katsukiâs really okay or just putting on a front because thatâs what he does when the world is falling apart around him.
You try again, voice scraping out of you like rough smoke: âHâhowâŚ?â
She shakes her head fast, stopping you before the sentence can hurt you more. âLater. When Katsukiâs here.â Her voice softens, unbearably so. âHe deserves to hear you first.â
Your breath stutters, the weight of that landing somewhere deep and tender.
Mitsuki reaches up and brushes a loose strand of hair from your forehead. The gesture is so gentle it barely feels real.
âWeâll tell him after school,â she repeats softly. âHeâll come running the second he hears. And heâs gonna be loud, and dramatic, and probably hug you too hard. But he needs this. He needs you.â
Her voice cracks just a little on that last word. Barely noticeable, unless youâre looking for it. And you are.
âRest now,â she adds, settling back into her chair but not letting go of your hand.
______
Later that evening, the hallway outside your room is louder than it should be for a hospital â muffled bickering, restless footsteps, a sharp whisper thatâs definitely Kaminari complaining heâs been standing too long. With your eyes barely opening from your earlier slumber, you can hear Kirishima gently shushing him. Someone â Mina, probably â keeps insisting they should âjust peek in real quick because what if sheâs awake?âÂ
You also catch the hissed argument thatâs delivered as a response âDude, stopâ she might be asleep again!â and âIâm not stopping, you stop!â
Their silhouettes shuffle under the doorframeâs faint light, shadows overlapping like they canât decide whether to crowd closer or bolt down the hall.
You blink slow, the world tilting for a moment, and the ceiling swims into focus. Your throat is dry. Your body feels like itâs made of bandages and cement. But your brain? Your brain catches up just enough to realize:
Theyâre here. All of them. A soft exhale escapes youâ barely a sound, but apparently loud enough for the enhanced senses of teens with superpowers.
Mitsuki nods her head towards the door and chuckles. âThey canât wait to see you,â The commotion outside stops all at once, like someone hit pause. Thenâ
âDid you hear that?!â
âKaminari, shut upââ
âWait, waitâ I think sheâs awakeââ
âKatsukiâs gonna kill us if we go inââ
âOh my god. Just. Check!â
Kirishimaâs voice breaks through the chaos; firm, gentle, leader-of-the-chaos-crew mode âGuys. Calm down. Weâll knock first.â
Thereâs a beat of silence and then three different knuckles rap on the door at the exact same time. Your chest shakes with a tiny, pained laugh thatâs followed by a thunderous cough. The whispering begins again immediately.
âBroâ I said one person should knock!â
âThat wasnât me!â
âYou literally have the loudest knuckles, Sero!â
âHow do you even know thatââ
Someone sighs. Hard. You recognise the sound as Izuku, doing that tight little anxious inhale before he tries to be responsible.
âShould I⌠um⌠should I ask Recovery Girl if weâre allowedâ?â
âNo, if Kacchan shows up and weâre gone, heâll blast us into spaceââ
âOh heâs definitely gonna show upââ
You try shifting, just enough to look toward the door. A small movement, but enough to tug at something deep in your gut. You wince, which apparently sends the hallway into frenzy.
And before they manage to organize themselves, one brave soul reaches for the door handle.
Minaâs whisperâundoubtedly its hersâcuts through the noise âOkay, on threeââ
You have exactly one second to process that, and tighten your hold around Mitsukiâs hand as hard as you can, before a hand curls around the knob and another, much sharper voice snaps from down the hall.
âTouch that door and I swear to god youâre dead.â
Every single voice outside vanishes. You donât even need to see him to know who said it. Katsuki.
Last time you laid eyes on him he was in a puddle of his own blood, chest torn, right arm destroyed. The thought alone is making your jaw tremble.
Your stomach flips; your eyes do that stupid thing where they well up so much that they sting and your heart kicks into a frantic rhythm, strong enough that the monitor beside you responds with a panicked series of beeps.
For a fragment, you come to believe this is a dream. An afterlife experience. Some sick and twisted purgatory. Some strange, cruel limbo replaying the moments before everything went black.
Mitsuki reacts before you do. She leans in, her free hand hovering near your shoulder as if she can physically hold you together while the monitor continues its frantic beeping. âEasy,â she murmurs, voice low. âBreathe, sweetheart. Youâre fine.â
Her thumb presses gently into the back of your hand, grounding you.
The footsteps outside slow, the scrape of rubber soles against the linoleum deliberate now, controlled in that way Katsuki walks when heâs trying to stop himself from running. Thereâs a muffled scuffleâsomeone tripping over someone else during their attempt to scramble out of his path.
The doorknob turns. Not violently, but slowly. Carefully. Like heâs afraid the world behind it might shatter if he enters too fast.
The door opens halfway, and Katsuki steps inside.
Heâs out of breath, but it's the kind where heâs trying very hard not to show. His hair, shorter than you remember, is a mess from whatever fight he had with the wind on the way here. His uniform shirt is wrinkled, sleeves pushed up his forearms in uneven rolls, and his tie is gone entirely.
But none of that is what gets you. Itâs the way he stops actually. Abruptly.
And not because Mitsuki is in his way or because your friends are whisper-squabbling just outside the door. He stops because he sees you.
Awake.
His eyes widen first, a stunned flicker of disbelief that washes over his face before he can hide it. Then everything in him seems to go slack for a moment â shoulders dropping, jaw unclenching, the tension dissolving so suddenly it looks like his legs might give out.
âNo fucking way,â he breathes, so quietly it barely reaches the room. His gaze flits across your face, ignoring his motherâs plea for decent language.
Whatever strength he had walked in with drains from his posture all at once. His breath catches on a sound too close to a sob, and he stumbles two steps forward before genuinely stopping himself, like heâs afraid he might do the wrong thing and make you hurt again.
The monitor chooses that exact moment to spike again, a sharp, accusing beep-beep-beep echoing through the walls.
Katsuki flinches, just barely. His eyes flash to the machine, then to your hand clutching Mitsukiâs, then back up to you. Something like guilt â real, aching guilt â tightens his expression. His head jerks toward yours and in the same instant he looks completely guttedâlike the beeping is some damning confirmation that youâre in pain because of him, that all those months of him replaying the footage of you almost getting torn apart in half, ignoring every warning from people who told him not to, all led to this moment right here: you trembling, terrified, trying to hold yourself together.
He tries to say your name, but it dissolves into a choked gasp. Tears are already spilling, hot and unguarded, not even wiped away. Katsuki Bakugoâwho never criesâcanât stop crying.
Instinct drags you forward. You try to sit up, to reach for him, anything to close the distance, but the muscles in your abdomen seize. A bolt of pain rips through you so sharply your vision whites out, and you collapse back into the bed with a strangled breath.
âStay still!â Mitsuki catches your shoulder before you can tear something, her voice shaking now too. âSweetheart, you canât moveââ
Your hand slips from hers anyway, desperate to get to him.
âHeyââ His voice cuts off, a sob and cracks, embarrassing him. He swallows hard, trying again. âHey. Take it easy, you dummy.â
He says it softly. Too softly for it to be an insult.
Katsuki kneels swiftly beside the bed, and his scarred hand hovers over yours.Â
When he finally touches your hand, itâs feather-light, trembling with the same fear and relief burning in his eyes. He doesnât grip, doesnât hold too tight, doesnât let go either. He rests his palm over yours, as if heâs anchoring himself to you while afraid that even the slightest pressure might hurt you.
You notice heâs holding a flower inside his other hand. Your eyes widen at the sight and he looks down at his hand too, muttering âItâs for you. A âget well soonââ
âKatsuâtsukâkiâ you breathe out, shakingly.
Your fingers twitch, wanting to wrap around his hand, to pull him closer, to fix the broken edges of him the way heâs holding onto you. You try to shift, to ease closer, but your abdomen flares with pain and you freeze, groaning softly.
He freezes too, instantly still, and looks at you with wide, frantic eyes. âHey⌠hey, hey, IâIâm sorry,â he whispers, voice cracking, almost pleading.
Then, slowly, he adjusts himself so he can lean against you without putting weight on your ribs. His hand over yours flexes, releases, flexes again, as if he canât decide whether to grip or just stay connected to you.
His tears fall freely now, soaking your fingers, and the sound of him crying forces tears to come out of your eyes too.
All you can do is squeeze his hand back, as much as your pain will allow, and whisper his name again.Â
He takes it, eve though his own hand aches like itâs being pierced, because the touch is not just an ember that youâre alive. Itâs the undeniable fact that youâre awake.
And Katsuki is just so, so happy that this one good thing happens to him, he doesnât even mind that the rest of the class storms inside minutes later and everyone sees him crying.
Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist
~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work //
Likes and reblogs are so appreciated but if you you liked this you can let me know in the comments <3
Synopsis. A jester marrying a princess? Not even in the most terrible joke.Â
Gojo Satoru has loved you ever since the first time he made you laugh, heâs loved you since you appointed him as your personal jesterâand heâs loved you even when your royal engagement was announced.Â
But if only a prince can marry a princessâŚmaybe a jester can wreck it.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!princess!reader, jester!Gojo, royalty AU, forbĂdden Iove, yearning, PLOT, hurt, best friends to Iovers, betrothaIs (not to Gojo), heâs so siIIy, and so in Iove, sad backstorĂŹes, vĂŹoIence and bIood (not to or from Gojo), rhymes, pranks, Naoyaâs awfuI, hidden schemes, makeovers, masquerade baIIs, masks, somewhat CindereIIa-Iike, oraI (fem rec.), tongue f, fĂŹngering, heâs PĂSSYDRĂNK, p taIking, pĂnching, bĂting, spĂtting, Ănappropriate use of the jester hat, heâs FĂRAL, raw, matĂng presses, first times (for both), heâs BlG, making it fit, talking you through it, pushing down, dirty taIk, rhymes whilst heâs INSIDE, creampĂes, cĂşmpIay, royal weddings, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swĂŠaring.
Word count. 16.8k
A/N. TO THE LOVELY BABYGIRLS THAT HAVE BEEN BEEEEGGING FOR THIS TROPE- and inspired by the very talented @/karolineprihodko on Tiktok <33
âA fool may sleep. A fool may sneer. A fool may ask why the princess is crying here?â
Itâs so sudden that it stops your tears.
Crouched in a small passageway near the royal court. Between the gleaming armors upon display of Gakuganji the Great and Kashimo the Fierce. For a brief moment of madness; you think you must have imagined the lilting voiceâalmost melodic. Marvelous.
Itâs one of the most beautiful things youâve ever heard - even more so than the music wafting from the open doors of court, brought by the travelling circus that your palace was entertaining.
And then youâre hearing him again.
âSob sob sobâfor my princess is a crier. Dear Gojo here, shall set Yagaâs stache on fireâ!â
That makes you finally lift your head out of your arms, with a laugh that is full-chested and unabashed. For the first time in a longâŚlong time.
âWhat might your name be?â You ask the boy with the bright blue eyes, and an even brighter smile.Â
And that was the story of how you met Gojo Satoru - when you were eight, and heâd been merely ten. Though he didnât look tenâhe mightâve looked even younger than you.Â
White hair. Winks of dimples upon each cheek. His face was chalk-white from the make-up typical of jesters, even young ones, supposedly.Â
He was drowning in a faded red and blue jester outfit that looked as if itâd been dragged through multiple shows a night. It looked far too big to have been his originally. Even through the patched-up collar, his collarbones showed, and from the too-wide sleeves; his pale, near-skeletal limbs stuck out oddly.Â
His face was pretty, however, with eyes too large for his head.Â
Gojoâs cheeks were sunken in, yet his smile wasnât the slightest bit smaller. That, too, looked too large to be his.Â
And youâŚ
Crying outside the royal court, after your parents had declared you far too young to see the travelling circus. The acrobats. The sword-swallowers. And one little jesterâŚthat had gone missing during the processions.Â
Though, in time, Gojo took delight in weaving in additional parts of fighting off dragons and two haunted knight armorsâenraptured courts that clapped and laughed as he sang of a white-haired fool and his crying princess. Heâd whisked you off your feet and made you swoon in ways a princess utterly shouldnât - and then produced you before your horrified father, His Majesty, as the sole suitor that made you laugh.Â
At least according to him.
Though one thing was true from that fairytale: Gojo had been the only person to make you laugh. The only one.
Previous jesters and palace acts wavered between confusing you with their overly long ballads, or enraging you - all because they assumed some little princess couldnât handle humor. And maybe that was why - Gojo hadnât underestimated you - that youâd gone right up to your father in the middle of a particularly splendid fire-breathing act, stood in the center of the lavish floor, and declaredâ
For Gojo to be released from the circus to become your personal jester.
As a royal jester he would be clothed, bathed, and tutored alongside you - so long as he kept you entertained with his rhymes (to which you had no doubt that he wouldnât falter).Â
Not minister nor royal guest should lay a hand on him. He was to be treated as an equal member of the court, and should have titles bestowed upon him in due timeâbut for now, he will grow up as your best friend. Your only.
And whilst declaring this in about as much royal haughtiness as you could have managed, you looked over at Gojo. You donât remember for what reason. You donât remember what you were looking for.
All you remember is that Gojoâs eyes seemed brighter in that moment, like the nightâs cloak of stars. There were tears in his eyes.
And he flashed you his crooked grin.
You grinned back.
His Majesty and the advisors didnât take long to mull over the thought before asking the circus master to name his price for the boy. And Gojo had been small then - oh-so-small - a mere waif of a boy. He was clearly the youngest amongst these adults, and the circus master hadnât even remembered he was part of the troupe.
Heâd demanded two crowns and a bag of wheat.
To which The King had obliged with a simple wave of his handâbefore freeing the other circus members, as well. He was mercifulâŚmost of the time.
And youâd been so overcome with joy that you ran to the jester and took his hands then and there.
Had it been in the little passageway where youâd met, then you might even have embraced him.
But perhaps youâd given the ministers enough conniptions for the day?
âFollow me.â You breathlessly whispered to the little jester that seemed far too shocked for words. âI shall summon the royal tailor whilst you take your bath- we have every fragrance in the land, and more than enough botanical springs.â
But the longer he stayed speechless and unmoving, the more self-conscious you grew.
Your fingers loosened around his, âThatâŚthat is if you wish to-â
âI do.â He stopped you from slipping away - he clasped your hands even tighter. Tight enough to nearly hurtâbut you didnât stop him. âI-Iâd be honored, Your Highness.â
âYou shanât have to call me that.â
And though a few eavesdropping court ladies and gentlemen gasped at the destruction of long-held social etiquette, Gojo had merely smiled and nodded. And then youâd been the one to whisk him away.Â
You.
Gojo shared little about his upbringing that first day in the palace, and even less over the years. You knew that heâd been born into an average family just a kingdom over - Gojo itself was a fairly used name - but tragedy struck and his parents both passed awayâalthough you never asked how, and he never shared why. It almostâŚseemed as if he didnât remember. A part of him that had scrubbed out most of those years, like a bloodstain.
And heâd lived in the same lifeless home as them for five days. Trying to wake them.
No one listened.
No one arrived.
No one helped.
No one helped.
No one helped.
Driven by hunger and loneliness, Gojo finally left the house after those five days. And just his fortune, he hadnât walked long before encountering the travelling circusâso many jugglers and jesters and acrobats and fire-breathers. And one master leading them from the front.Â
Heâd been both enraptured and scared.
And hungry. SoâŚso hungry.
Even the smell of the lion food was appetizing to him.Â
One acrobat passing by had spotted the boy watching wide-eyed from the side of the road, and seeing how desperate he was, shared her lunch and invited him to join. It was the biggest act of kindness heâd felt in five days.
And so he taught himself to rhyme. To joke. To smile.Â
And two years later was when you saved him- you told Gojo that it wasnât so much as saving him than him saving you. But he denied.Â
âThank you.â Gojo had whispered to you, almost fearful, during his first night in the palace. The Princessâs jester had been granted quarters right across the hallway from your own chambersâand yet, the first night was always the scariest, wasnât it?Â
Heâd given you quite the fright sneaking into your royal chamber after all the candles had been snuffed and your attendants had left. Soundless as a mouseâand looking just as unwelcome inside the gilded bedroom. But eventually, you welcomed him onto the lavish mattress far too large for even two.
Let alone two children.
Laid a fair distance apart, you faced each other.Â
âI forbid you to say those words again, Gojo.â You smiled. âAnd just for the one night, I trust?â You meant the bed-sharing; should your attendants walk upon this in the morning, then Gojo would be thrown into the dungeons faster than he can rhyme.Â
Gojo nodded, somewhat flushed. âJust for the one night.â
.
.
.
âSatoru-â
âMmmm, puff pastries and wagashi.â
âSatoru.â
âHuh? Ohhh, sweet cheesecake.â
âSatoââ The exasperated call of his name doesnât land before the kick does - square in the middle of Gojo Satoruâs broad back.Â
Sometime in the last few years, after heâd taken up training with General Yaga to keep himself fit for his dances, Gojo had started sleeping without his upper garments on.Â
And you couldnât deny that it was a sight for sore eyes; his sun-freckled sun, the dips and curves of his muscles shifting as he did. The roundness of his deltoids. The sensual curve of his spine. The patterns of his scapulae, and lash marks that he wouldnât explain. They moved like waves of an ocean, and they peaked and fell just as much. Some mornings you dared to trace every single oneâjust with your eyes, of course.Â
But of course, he was just your best friend - socially, your jester, at that.
Which is exactly why youâre kicking him off the bed the second you hear your morning attendants heading down the corridor. As soon as heâs out of sight, the double doors to your bedroom openâand theyâre floating inside with steaming-hot trays of breakfast and new fragrances for your skin.Â
One of the attendants sets the breakfast tray down on your bedside table, and you sneak him a few of the blueberry-spotted pancakes. Though have to slap Gojoâs hand away from swiping the syrup, too, before one of them sees.
âSuch a beautiful day, isnât it, Your Highness?â Your head attendant, Utahime, trills as she throws the curtains open to let soft morning sunlight flood inside. âThe perfect morning.â
âIt is.â Youâre nodding. You slap Gojoâs hand away from the syrup again.
âAnd we have no more than an hour to get you ready, Your Highness. So I beg you to finish your tea quickly.â Another attendant hands you your morning tea - just how you liked it. It smelled of something floral that reminded you of the royal gardens, and something else so utterly appetizing that you could feel Gojo huffinâ and puffing about beneath you.
Served him right for sneaking in again, you think.
You slap Gojoâs hand away again. Utahime continues speaking onwards obliviously, ââprepare for the guest.â
âA guest?â That piques your interest.Â
This time, Gojo steals the syrup. And it creates a loud clatter that draws the attention of all the attendants sweeping and scurrying about to pick out your gown for the dayâyouâre unceremoniously coughing to cover it up. Youâre not sure it works.
Utahime crinkles her nose, âNasty little ailment, isnât it?â Her intelligent eyes dip down to the bed - though she keeps it discreet. Utahime, as well as being your head attendant, was one of your closest friends as well.Â
Close to you in age, youâd hand-picked her to be what was essentially your right-hand woman.Â
And she knew of the ratherâŚclose friendship that you and Gojo had; perhaps improper for court etiquette, but just right for the two of you.Â
From underneath the bed, Gojo snickers.Â
You bounce on the mattress, whilst Utahime kicks the bed post.Â
âAhâŚthis ancient bed.â Youâre commenting once the other attendants look at you with raised brows, âHonestly, sometimes I believe it to be haunted.â
âWake up to a mysterious figure at your bedside, do you?â Utahime eyes you. You avert your gaze from hers. âWell, we should do well to rid your chambers of that before the Prince arrives, Your Highness.â
âThe Prince?â
âPrince Zenin Naoya, of course.â
Gojo knocks his head on the bed frame.Â
.
.
.
Prince Zenin Naoya possessed many titles; the latest one being the most unpleasant royal youâve ever had the displeasure of meeting.
Which was saying rather a lot.
Youâve met many a-princess that were appalling to her attendants, and many princes that boasted their numerous wars. Your father himself fell into the latter group. And many, many more dukes and duchesses and marquisâand whatever other title had surfaced over the last few centuries and gotten latched-onto with rabid, golden-ringed claws. Had it not been for your duty to maintain a peaceful political climate, you would have forgone those social gatherings altogether.
Though your father was particularly careful not to repeat the border strife that had occurred not too long ago in your kingdomâŚsome violence-seeped dispute over power.Â
And so you lifted your head and plastered a smile.
You managed to clamor through even the most painful of social obligations.
But this oneâŚthis one might just force you to rewrite all the royal rules that had been drilled into you since you were younger.Â
âIt is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.â You nod in acknowledgement as the Prince bows. His coronet was made of pure gold; a simple band with a blood-red ruby in the middle.Â
It flashed at you menacingly.
And so did his pearly-white smile.Â
âThe pleasure is all yours, Your Highness.âÂ
Youâre taken aback at his choice of words. You meet Gojoâs eyes a little ways away from the court- and his read the same confusion. He shakes his head imperceptibly. Then Naoya turns to the King seated on the throne beside you instead. His smile leers, âMy utmost gratitude for this invitation, Your Majesty. My parents send their regards.â
âGood people, good people.â Your father nods, âTheir assistance duringâŚthose times of trouble shall forever remain in my memory.â
âWho are we if not united against the face of the radicals, Your Majesty?â Naoya graciously bows once more.Â
âWell said.â And then the King makes a sweeping gesture in your direction. âAnd in the future, it seems we shall be united once more.â
Naoya throws his gaze at you again, and the way he looks at youâŚit makes you hug your arms to yourself.
Youâre unsure why your gaze had been upon Gojo at that very moment - they always did seem to find him - but you watch as his expression darkens. Darkens. Darkens. In a way youâve never seen before, and then itâs hitting youâ
âFather?â
But he ignores you, âSatoruâ!â In the years that youâve brought Gojo to court, your father had become rather fond of his rhymes and riddles as much as you were. So it wasnât exactly surprising that he had been called upon, and Gojoâs expression switches instantly into one of foolish mirth. âWhy donât you share one of your amusing rhymes with our guest?â
âAs you wish, Your Majesty.â He bows deeply. As he makes his way to the middle of the court, where Naoya and his entourage were gathered, the bells upon his blue-and-white garments jingle.Â
And before you know it, Gojo clasps onto Naoyaâs shoulders and ensnares him with his words. âNaoya oâ Naoya, with your great riches and gait.â The corners of his lips twitch - something sharp. Gojo covers his mouth in a faux-whisper, though his words reach every single corner of the vast chamber. âEvery lady here knows you take potions to compensate~â
Naoyaâs face turns green then red. A furious red.
As if fearing the Prince would swing, Gojo jumps back- just in time for the hay-blond man to whirl around. âBut oh, no potion shall make Prince Naoyaâs rooster bigâthe most you ladies get will be the size of a fig~â
The jester laughs maniacally, and so does much of the court; you yourself canât stop from letting out a startled laugh or two.Â
Your best friend never did hold back - perhaps because he was the only one allowed to do so without fearing the threat of the dungeons.Â
And Gojo watches as a giggle slips past the hand youâd brought up to cover your mouth- and his grin widens as he takes it as a challenge. Dancing around Naoya, he continuesâ
âNaoya is hated by the ladies of the court. Naoya is hated in his medical reports~â He trills gleefully, darting a hand out and knocking Naoyaâs coronet off. âAnd all the ladies and all the healers, have never seen a cock this short~â
Red face now turning almostâŚa sickly yellow, Naoya attempts to fist-fight the jester. Though Gojo was far more agile than he looked, and he was dodging each hit with ease.
âOhâhave I offended you, Your Highness? Perhaps a change of paceâŚâ Gojo crows. âFor all Naoya hates women, he might as well court men-â
âYou- youââ
âEasy, son.â Your father chuckles to himself as well, âYou should do good to familiarize yourself with the Princessâs jester if you are to marry her.â
Gojo stutters- and his rhyme pauses. His eyes widen.
You feel the red, red carpet give out beneath you.Â
.
.
.
âI simply mustâŚapologize for Sato- my jester, Your Highness.âÂ
The clinking of silverware fortunately masked the waver in your tone. It was insincere and unapologetic.
Naoya maintains an expression as if heâd just smelled something unpleasant, perhaps as if it was on his very plate. The Prince cuts into his bird with far too much force than necessary, âApology accepted.â Rather short.
Though you yourself didnât careâyou shoot a look at the ministers that were currently attempting to meld into the royal portraits on the wall.Â
With nervous smiles, they urge you to continue.
It was a poor imitation of a romantic dinner - as romantic as a political marriage could get.Â
The royal dining room had a table that sprawled nearly from one end-to-end. Polished mahogany. Intricately-carved legs. So thick that they didnât buckle under the hundreds of dishes piled on top: soups to puddings to heart-shaped wagashi to those you couldnât even name. Woven in-between were flickering candles and vases of red, red rosesâsprouting confessions of love.Â
Some of those petals were even scattered across the floor.
Though the dining room could seat about four-hundred guests, right now it only seated him and you. You and your future husband.
Your future husband.
Your future husband.
Your future husband.
It still hadnât sunk in, and you didnât want it to.
Zenin Naoya takes a bite of his roasted bird and spits it back out. From his entourage, one of the Zenin ministers darts out with a dish to collect it.
You wrinkle your nose in distaste.
Two courts were watching this fallacy of courtship.Â
From your side, it was the entirety of your court save for some of the outer ladies-in-waiting and some gents, and your parents. From his side, it was Naoyaâs entire entourage at his every beck, call, and swallow. Just waiting for the opportunity that their beloved Prince didnât like anything.
Which seemed to beâŚeverything.
You yourself can only pick at the delicacies on your plate - theyâd done well to include favorites of both you and His Highness. And yetâŚ
And yet, in the past eighteen years youâve never sat through a dinner without Gojo at your side.Â
Always at your right-hand seat. Always chomping through his dinner with overexaggerated noises that made you laugh, and the ministers grimace.
How could you feel so alone surrounded by so many people, and yet lacking one?
Youâre biting back a sigh.
âPssst.â
Confused, you look up at Naoya- but he seems just as morbidly indulgent in his food as he was before. He was spitting out even more.Â
And so you look aroundâbut none of the ministers nor advisors catch your eye, either.
âPsssssst.â
There it was again. Somewhat irritated and feeling your confusion growing - this dinner certainly hadnât put you in a good mood - youâre about to excuse yourself from this social hostage-situation. Someone must be attempting to make a fool out of you. Youâre resting your hands on the polished table and about to push offâ
When you feel somethingâŚtouch your wrist.
Youâre about to scream-
âTamper your screaming, please.âÂ
Oh, well if they asked so nicelyâŚ
Wait-
Who?
Without making too much of a spectacle, you slide your fork off the edge of the table.Â
Naoya grumbles at the metallic ringingâand muttering a dainty apology, youâre leaning down to pick it up. Or so it seems.Â
Instead, youâre crouching yourself down and lifting the tablecloth ever-so-slightly. Itâs a purple velvet, one of the finest in the land, and it opens up to reveal one of the greatest treasures this palace held. At least, in your opinion.
Gojo Satoru brings a finger up to his lips and winks. His make-up crinkling handsomely as he did so, âDo you frequent these parts?â
âI should ask the same from you.â You hiss, glancing around to make sure that no one was looking. âSatoru, what do you think youâre doing-â
âExercising my culinary skills, my princess.â And he raises up a little velvet packet in one hand, shaking it around tantalizingly. He answers your question before you can voice it, âJust a little horseshoe, just a little wool from Yagaâs sweater, and perhaps the Prince that swallows this shall be a little sweeter~â
Your jaw drops. âYou cannot be serious-â
âNever in my life have I been more serious.â Gojo replies solemnly, then with an innocent flutter of his lashes- âForgive me for not sharing, my princess. But perhaps you would favor it as well?â
âIt shanât suit my palate.â You answer firmly.
âItâs far more palatable than what I did to the wine, trust me.â Gojo smirks.
âYou rouge.â
He opens his mouth as if to say something more, but Naoyaâs tone grates through the little bubble of mirth youâd formedâin less than a minute, no less. âWife- wife.â
You and Gojo stare at one another in shock.
Wife?
One of your ministers coughs pointedly, and with a final glance at Gojo, youâre straightening in your chair. âWere you perhaps addressingâŚme, Your Highness?â And any smart man would have quickly backtracked at this opportunity to change their answer.Â
But you never claimed that Zenin Naoya was particularly smart. âMy eyes donât perceive any other woman here?â He scoffs, taking a bite of a chicken leg and then immediately spitting it outââAs for the engagement plans- eugh.â
Youâre biting back a laugh as he drags out a string - seemingly from a woolâŚsweaterâŚof Yagaâs - from his mouth and looks at his ministers in bewilderment.Â
âTh-the chef must have been in a state of pioneering.â You cough out.
Another bite he takes.
And another wad of wool he spits out.Â
You bring a hand up to your lips, âPerhaps you should wash it down with the wine, Your Highness? It had been brewed specifically for this occasion.â
And so he does - eyeing you all the while.
Naoya takes a big swig of his goblet andâshrieks as he finds half of a shoe inside.Â
One of Gojoâs very own.
That shriek is loud enough to make the walls of the dining chamber rattle; and Gojo shoots out from the side of the dining table, unable to keep his laughter in control, and dances away. âTwiddle dee, twiddle dooâNaoya coughed up a shoe~â Those double doors are still swinging as it sinks in what just happened- and your ministers and guards take a menacing step towards where the colorful intruder had disappeared.Â
You raise your hand to signal them to halt.
âThis insolentââ Naoya was spitting with fury- unable to even formulate words. His mouth is a downturned slash, and he shoves the plate off the table. It shatters vociferously.
You notice that heâs turned a little green in the way he only seemed to do when Gojo was nearby. âMy first order as King shall be to rid this incompetent kitchen-â He spits. â-and that godforsaken jester-â
Your fork clatters to the floor once again. âWhatâs wrong with Satoru?â You didnât care if you sounded rather too offended by such a question. âIs it the practical jokes? I shall request that he ceases such-â
âWhatâs wrong? Whatâs wrong?â Naoya cackles to himself. âWoman, what is there not wrong about that goddamn fool? Heâs- heâsâa fool.â
âFor that is his duty, is it not?â You narrow your eyes at him.
âI suppose.â Naoya leans back in his chair, âBut his duty is to the crown, and when I am King-â
âHis duty is to me.â Before you know it, youâre standing. Youâre breathing hard. Youâre ignoring the ministers that attempt to hold you back. âHeâs my best friâjester.â
And you repeatâŚthough you donât know whether itâs more for yourself, Naoya, or the boy with the blue eyes that was once underneath the table.
âHeâs mine.â
Those words fall like the blade of a guillotine.Â
Naoyaâs eyes were spitting fire. âHeâsâŚyours, is it?â He throws his cape back and stands, âYour HighnessâŚI fail to understand why you entangle yourself with a mere jester?â Though the sentence itself wasnât one particularly barbed, his distaste bled through every syllable.Â
âHe- he is my best friend-â
âHe is a jester.â Naoya says with a tone of finality. He pushes back, letting the chair clutter behind him- the brings up a palm to stop his ministers from righting it. âAnd a jester can never be anything to a princess. Never.â
Those footsteps of his resound louder than your heartbeat. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
On the way to making his exit, he stops before the entrance and speaks. âWe are to be engaged in six moons, and when you are my wife, I expect you to act like one.â Naoyaâs gaze is deadly as he grips the door open, âMy family earned our titles bringing down entire households- a mere jester is nothing to me.â
Another guillotine: this time, itâs the closing of the dining room doors.
âYour Highness-â
But youâre following Naoya out, and tears burn behind your eyes.
Just as luck - or perhaps fate - would have it, who else had been standing behind the doors listening to every word? None other than Gojo Satoru.Â
Though his face is downturned, and you canât make out his expression, your heart soars at the sight of him. Heâs pressed against one of the walls closest to the doors, and he clenches his fists at his sides. And youâre just about to reach out- to tell him that Naoyaâs words didnât matter- to tell him that Naoya didnât matterâ
But before you could, Gojo sharply turns to you and bows. Those bells atop his hat jingle as he does so, and he stays bowed as he asks, âThis fool begs to be dismissed, Your Highness?â
Your Highness? âYouâŚyou mayâŚâ Your brows furrow, fingers trembling towards him. âBut Satoru-â
And yet, heâs gone.
And you didnât get a single look at his expression.
You wondered what you would see. You wondered what you would be hoping to see.
But no matter what it was, you knew that all you wanted to see - whether anger or mirth or irritation - was Gojo himself.Â
Your engagement was in six moons.
.
.
.
To your dismay, Gojo Satoru was avoiding you.
You should have realized that something was off that moment after the disastrous dinnerâor perhaps when he didnât join you to sleep, or perhaps when he hadnât joined court in the following days. According to one of the palace staff, the jester was ill, but every attempt at a visit to his quarters ended up with you being rebuffed or diverted.
And how many opportunities for diversion there were.
The palace was a-flush with florists, and bakers, and candle-makers, and mask-designersâand orchestras upon orchestras practising for your engagement waltz.Â
One of those times youâd been dragged away to floral-picking for the grand engagement ball - the one that would announce your union to the entire kingdom. Another time it had been to pose for a portrait with Naoya (a particularly taxing endeavour). And another time it was to pick out the colors for your mask- this was to be an extravagant masquerade ball after all. And another time it had been to get fitted for the ballgown youâd be wearing for the nightâlike exactly right now.
This time, youâd gotten just past the guards stationed upon either side of Gojoâs chambers (both on his word, and to prevent the Princess from getting into anyâŚscandalous affairs before the engagement).
And youâd cracked open the door - ever-so-slightly - only to find that what was insideâŚmade you halt.
Gojoâs room was completely and utterly empty.
Not just of himself, but of his literature books, his shoes, his bells, his flower vases. Anything and everything that made the chamber so utterly Gojoâs, was gone. Even the braid of friendship you wove for him when you were twelve - that he kept at the very top of his jewelry box - and the flower crowns you made for him that he dried and hung from his windowsâyou made them rather often, beforeâŚNaoya.Â
He had intruded upon your idle dance between love and friendship - and you were still feeling bitter and confused as Utahime fitted you. As she wound up the hip springs of your corset- and tightened, and tightenedâ
âI just fail- hah, fail to understand.â Youâre muttering, slightly out-of-breath.
Utahime looks up from the knots of your corset, âYour Highness?â
The royal tailor had just stepped out to aid in bringing the imported silk and cloth of gold up to your bed chambers, and in the meantime your attendants were helping tighten your numerous layers underneath. Your ballgown - engagement dress, more precisely - would be fitted on top of the base linen undergarments and the crinolines.Â
Tonight, you will be engaged.
And to a man that has never made you laugh once-
âYour Highness?â Utahime repeats, snapping you out of your little reverie.
âOh- forgive me.â You nod at her in acknowledgment. âWhat I meant to say was, I just fail to understand what heâs thinking.â
She nods back - you didnât have to specify who. âIt is precisely as I have told you, Your Highness.â Utahime tightens a few more knots- knocks a few more breaths out of you. âThat olâ nuisance has not a single thought in his mind. You must not worry yourself too much about him.â
âOh, but UtahimeâŚhow can I not?â Youâre sure the flurry of other attendants surrounding you were listening in - smoothing down your layers, preparing your jewelry. But you didnât care at the moment, if you did say so yourself.Â
âI believe it is just a little ailment, Your Highness. I fear I am not blessed enough for such a thing to prove fatal to that jester-â
You gulp. âI believe Satoru may be avoiding me.â
At that, even Utahimeâs brows furrow. âPardon?â
âHis chambers have been emptied of even the flower crowns, and I havenât even the faintest glimpse of him these past few days.â Speaking these words aloud seems to make them too real. âI believe I told you of how he overheard the conversation between Naoya and I?â
Utahime nods.
âNaoya had uttered some things- balderdash, if you ask meââ Your fists threaten to clench, but two attendants were working on your nails. Another was double-checking the measurements for your mask. Mask. âYet I fear Satoru may have misconstrued some thingsâŚand I havenât laid eyes on him ever since.â
Thereâs a silence.
Her fingers finish their final knot.
And then Utahime stands to look you squarely in the eyes. âThis is Gojo Satoru we speak of, is it not?â
Slowly, unsure of where this was going, you nod.
âThen you have naught to worry about, Your Highness.â She flashes you such a beautiful smile, looking over your corset for imperfections - of course, there were none. âIt is most likely that heâs skulking about these palace walls, looking for a minister to scare or a prince to embarrass.â
Youâre letting out a soft huff of laughter.
âOr evenâŚa princess to adore.â
Your eyes widen- and youâre snapping your gaze to hers. Thereâs a knowing expression that Utahime wears - one she often gets whenever she notices Gojo hiding in your room, or watches the two of you sneak out during royal balls.Â
This one, in particular, was about to be the most crowded and convoluted yet.Â
And youâre meeting her smile, eventually. âI thank you, UtahimeâŚâ You then look down as you hear the doors of the dressing room fly open, âBut adoration cannot stop a royal engagement.â
Three sharp claps sound as the tailor gets the attention of your attendants.Â
âThat will be all, ladies. Thank you.â And his own attendants and apprentices flood the room to take over the fitting stageâUtahime squeezes your shoulder as she leaves.
Though she doesnât reach her bed chambers for a much-needed rest, as she might have wanted to. Instead, sheâs halting right outside the entrance-
âYou.â
And making sure you were occupied by the tailoring, Gojo bows dramatically. Holding his little bells so they donât jingle- âAt your service, Madam Sour-face.â
âCease it.â
âNo, I said Sour-face-â
âForget it.â Utahime could feel a migraine coming on already at the mere sight of his impish grin.Â
âSour-face Utahime with her pressure so high, one more joke and sheâll make me cry~â
Why - oh why - couldnât the universe take as kindly to her and forbid her from seeing this man, too? She continues, âFirst, enlighten me as to why youâve been giving Her Highness the cut?â
A too-innocent expression crosses his face. âPardon? I fear I have no recollection of ever-â
âI will kill you with my bare hands and feel no ounce of guilt.â
Gojo clicks his jaw shut.
âIâŚâ And itâs under the pressure of her unwavering glare that he finally cracks- letting out a deep sigh and dropping his head. âI plan to leave the palace.â
âPardon?â Even she sounds utterly shocked. âWhen-â
âTonight.â Gojo has never sounded more serious to her. âI have spent the past few days gathering my possessions, everythingâŚshe gifted me. As the ball starts tonight, I shall take my leave.â
âBut your duties-â
âI have informed His Majesty of my decision. It seems though he shall miss the rhymes, he is keen for an amicable marriage between Her Highness and Prince Naoya. A jester can be replaced, trust in a marriage cannotâespecially not one of political nature.â Utahime is almost shocked at this simple foresight, but then again- everyone always did underestimate the fool.
She watches his reaction, âAndâŚthe Princess?â
Which seems to make him flinch - as though struck. Perhaps a part of him was. ââŚI shall leave her a letter before I depart. Her Highness does not deserve to see such cowardice-â
âAnd yet you still remain.â Utahimeâs words make his blue eyes snap to hers. She crosses her arms in front of her, and lets a smug smile take over her lips. âFor what reason were you spying outside Her Highnessâs fitting, if not to see her?â
âIââ He takes a desperate step closer. âIt was simply in passing-â
âFor what reason did you empty your bedroom of the flower crowns Her Highness made especially for you? Surely they shanât prove themselves too useful on the road?â
Gojoâs eyes widened. âIâŚthe memories-â
âFor what reason have you waited until the last minute to leave? Until the last minute she shall not be yours, and yours only?â
He snarls, âShe was never mine.â
âBecause you believe the Princess does not deserve to base herself- being the lover of a fool yes?â When Gojo does not answer, she continues. âThe fool seems to believe he knows what the Princess deserves. But does the fool know what he deserves?â
Thereâs a prolonged silenceâof which is only punctured by the awed gasps from inside the dressing room, as the tailor and his apprentices comment on your beauty.
Gojo has the sudden, mad thought to open those doors just a little wider and see you for himself. Just one last time.
One last time.
What was he thinking?
He laughs to himself bitterly, âA jester can never be anything to a princess. Never.âÂ
âBut a princess can be everything to a jester, yes?â Utahime asks. âMore importantly- who are we to dictate what a person is to another person?â
The answer was as obvious as it was painful.
Gojo Satoru loved you.Â
Loves you.
Something of it must show on his face, because Utahime throws him a pitiful look sheâs never shared beforeââYou may leave if you please, I shanât stop you.â And then she reaches out and presses a hand against the doors- they part, unlocked. âBut if you wish to stay and stop acting a-foolâŚthen follow me.â
She brushes past him.
Meanwhile Gojo looks inside and catches a glimpse of you - and heâs never seen anything more beautiful.Â
He runs after Utahime, bells jingling.
.
.
.
âYou lookâŚâ
âHow odd.â
âHow startling.â
âWhat a change!â
Utahime crinkles her nose, âThe only thing this proves is that your face is more tolerable when it is covered.â She turns to the brown-haired woman next to her, âAnd that my Shoko is a goddess when it comes to handiwork.â
Shoko smiles sweetly, âI have much practice making death masks.â
âIâll say.â
As the other few attendants pendulate between laughing to themselves, and admiring Shokoâs quick work - sheâd been requested just a few hours before to make a mask befitting a royal ball, and sheâd finished it just in time - Gojo leans closer to the mirror.Â
He reaches his trembling fingers up to touch his face, âThis is surelyâŚme?â
âUnfortunately.â Utahime sighs, and she gets elbowed by Miwa.
Utahime had gathered the most trust-worthy attendants she led: Miwa, Momo, and Kugisaki from tailoring. Along with the impeccable royal healer, Shoko, who she knew would be the only one that would be able to create a mask for the ball with her expert hands. And theyâd gotten to work fixing up perhaps their most difficult case yetânone other than Gojo Satoru.
The royal jester was rather fussy at first- insisting that the powder puffs and cloth wipes tickled.Â
Before Utahime put her foot down and announced that they werenât going to present a âhalf-assedâ (forgive her language) marriage-wrecker to the Princess just yet.
That reminder of you kept him quiet for the rest of the make-over.
And Kugisaki had even commented, âPerhaps we ought to invoke the Princessâs name every time we need to keep the jester in line?â
âDo not tempt me.â Utahime had replied.Â
Gojo had shuddered.
But it really was true: he sat through the rest of the next hour or two without so much as a single rhyme or peep.Â
Not even when they told him to âpucker upâ in order to douse him in rouges and lip stains. That likely saved five years from Utahimeâs lifeâŚ
Gojo himself helped them scrub off his stark-white jesterâs make-up. The vampiric base. The teardrops of black paint. The red, red lipsâa few of his little troupe openly stared as theyâd never seen the Princessâs jester without his make-up.Â
And Gojo himself knew that he wasnât all that bad looking - he had noble features. A strong nose. A high set of cheekbones. A pert, pretty mouth that always looked to be on the verge of saying something he shouldnât.
Or, at least, that was how you described him.
You were the only person that got to see Gojo without his court-deemed make-up; and you always did say he was handsome. To which heâd always bat his long, white lashes dramatically and compose you a sappy sonnet about your eyes. He supposes he knew he was decent, butâŚhandsome?Â
He never saw it.
But these girls seemed determined to make him.
Cloudy hair. Delicate features. Blue eyes like a painting.
They replaced his make-up with something simpler. Gone was the cast of white, instead replaced by just a bit of rouge and shimmer. His pale brows were tamed and so was his hair - braided to the side using fragrant rose oils, with a few pieces falling handsomely over his face. All thanks to Momo, of course.Â
Kugisaki had dug up something from that olâ tailorâs trunkâa snow-white cloak and doublet, along with the associated tights he often made fun of. It was a suit fit for a prince.Â
And it was exactly the type of suit heâd made fun of a prince for.
But here he was now - not a single difference between him and them. Or at least physically.
Gojoâs training sessions with Yaga had kept him fit; and he fit the suit perfectly. His broad shoulders were outlined against the clean cut, and his trim waist fit snugly into those damn tightsâeven through the suit, it was obvious he was well-built, in a way those baggy jesterâs outfits never did show. Polished shoes. Silver buttons. Silver belt. Heavy silver chains and pendants that arrived with the robes.Â
He might even have passed for a battle-hardened Prince like thisâŚ
Momo helped him into his equally as white gloves - it seems they were sticking to a theme for him. All the better to help his eyes and his crown stand out.
Oh yesâŚthe girls had somehow bribed Yaga into letting them sneak down to the royal treasure. For just a few minutes.
All the spoils of war and generations of wealthâand theyâd come out with a crown.Â
It was Utahime whoâd dug this one out, deciding that that would make him stand out far more than the usual hats.Â
Made of pure silver; the design itself was rather simple, or so it seemed at first. Only when one looked closerâŚwhen one ventured furtherâŚcould you see that what seemed like a simple band was actually a wreath of silver branches and floral vines twisted into one, with sapphire-studded flowers blooming along it. One more thing had been taken from the treasury - a signet ring with a âGâ.Â
âIt felt proper.â Miwa, who had found the ring, beamed. âNames and titles are lost to time. And though I may not know what the âGâ once stood for, at least for tonight, it can mean âGojoâ, can it not?â
Gojo felt it getting slid onto his left hand, and he stares at the ring with furrowed brows.
He stares and stares.
Heâs never felt more worthy of you.
By the time they had finished, the strings of the orchestra had started playing their opening sequence - the ball was commencing.Â
Utahime turns to the rest of them, âWe have done well.â Then, ultimately, back to grumble at him. ââŚYou have done well.â
And though Gojo could make up a rhyme to rile her up, though Gojo could comment that they could have done better and bask in the ensuing chaos, though he could do his mask and his maskâ
He simply looks at each and every one and smiles. Sincerely. âThank you.â
They smile tenderly back.
The final component of his outfit for your engagement ball was the mask. Though there was no set theme, Shoko had gone above and beyond to craft his in the shape of the upper-half of a snow leopardâs face. The feline gaze. The sharp ears. The faint outline of rosettes against the white mask. It was mastery.Â
Gojo dons it and smiles to himself. He really did feel handsome, as you had always said.
His blue, blue eyes twinkle from behind the mask.
.
.
.
âYou look absolutely riveting, Your Highness.â
âI thank you.â
This was a royal ball that looked gilded. There was no other word to describe itâgilded.Â
Polished floors. A thrumming orchestra. Golden chandeliers had every single candle lit; and they crept halfway down to the ballroom floor as if gifted from the Sun itself. Just for you.Â
And that was in addition to the numerous other decorations that made even the most high-titled of guests gape in awe: the shimmering fountains that looked as if they were sprouting liquid gold, golden-dipped gardenias wreathed around the hallway, and the long table of foods were most lovely. All sorts of sweets and champagnes in honor of the union.
Guests upon guests upon guests being announced as they entered. They were dressed to impress, and there were more aristocrats gathered for this one ball than youâd seen in your entire life, perhaps.Â
Had Gojo been here with you, then you two wouldâve had the most amusing time coming up with stories for each one.Â
There was Sir Gakuganji who held a secret liking for abstract dancing, here was Lord Todo whose son had fallen in love with a thousand-year-old portrait. No one would be spared. The two of you would have tucked yourself into some alcove and watched as the lavishments flew by, and when everyone was appropriately drunk youâd sneak out to the stables or to star-gaze.Â
Your heart clenches.
SatoruâŚ
You attempt to shake your head free of him.
It most certainly was a beautiful ball. And if you imagined that this was one of no particular purpose, then you really could see it.Â
The ball was decorated to match your dress, you see.
Floor-length silk. Gold-threaded bodice.Â
Celestial layers upon layers.
Your uppermost skirts had gold dusting atop it; and they dazzled as you floated across the ballroom.Â
Your attendants had decided that going for a more simple look with the jewelry was appropriate - it would accentuate the simple gold circlet atop your head. A single sapphire embedded into the middle of it.Â
Naoya had sneered at the choice, of course. When doesnât he? But this time, he was particularly offended at the presence of a sapphire rather than the Zenin familyâs signature blood-red rubies.
You refused to make your attendants change it. You donned your cat-like mask with pride.Â
Perhaps thatâs why he seemed keen on ignoring you in favor of a group of other beautiful court ladies in attendanceâthough you honestly couldnât imagine anything different happening had the two of you been married, as well. You sighed inwardly.
Youâre nodding in acknowledgement as Prince Okkotsu Yuta nears with a man beside him.Â
He looked older - about your fatherâs age, if not a few years older. Tall. Toned - in the way of someone that had one been corded with muscle, but had since lost it to age. Bearing an ice-white beard and a row of silver medals proudly lining his chestâhe stands before you in his off-white uniform and bows. It was obvious that the man was rather handsome, drawing eyes from around the ballroom.Â
But what catches your eye the most were his eyes.
Summer-sky blue eyes.
They reminded you ofâ
âMy uncle, Michizane, Your Highness.â Yuta introduces him. âThis is his first time in the palace sinceâŚâ
Your voice drops into something hushed. âI understand.â Turning to the general, youâre half-bowing once more. âI am rejoiced to welcome you into my home, any troubles that we may have had in the past-â
âHave naught to do with the present, Your Highness.â Michizane graciously nods at you. âAnd most certainly have naught to do with the beloved princess.â
You manage a smile.
âAnd if you can excuse my being so impudentâŚit is precisely what I sought this occasion for, Your Highness.â He looks over the bustling crowd, now getting ready to waltz- and seemingly catches the eye of your father. Your father who now looked as though heâd just seen a walking dead man. âI hope to bury the misunderstandings between my family and your father, and understand what happened to my younger brother and his family. It had proved itself to be both a blessing and a curse that I had been on an excursion during those troubled times. And I seek a resolution for the sake of my inner peace, if nothing else.â
Youâre nodding in agreement. âIt is most tragic what happened. For the sake of bordersâŚnothing is worth so much. And I cannot ask for your mercy enough-â
âIt is not something I shall ever be able to forgive. But you are not at fault, dear princess.â Michizane smiles conclusively, but not unkindly.Â
âAnd yet, I have been wracked with guilt ever since.â You ultimately reply.Â
Though you hadnât met Michizane previously, you had learned that the history between your families was a long and bloody one. His family had been of a royal bloodline, of kingdoms now lost and eviscerated into neighboring ones - including yours. And you knew it was partly the fault of your kingdom. And although royal tutors justified and justified away your fatherâs actionsâyou could see past them
âPerhapsâŚâ Michizane is the one to break through your whirlwind of thoughts. He reaches his gloved hand out, a silver signet ring on his middle finger. â-a dance to commence the burying of our animosity?â
âBut of course.â
As the orchestra starts up a lively tune, Michizane whisks you away onto the dance floor. Much to the horror of some of your elderly ministers, of course, who gaped at the mere presence of the man.
And at the fact that your first dance wasnât with the Prince.
But laughter bubbles to your throat as Michizane twirls and swirls youâsways you smoothly around and around the dance floor. He was one of the best dancers youâve ever encountered, and youâre smiling appreciatively at him once the song comes to a close.
From the corner of your vision, you spot the black-and-red-clad Naoya storming his way over to you. And you hurry to beg a second dance when-
A title is announced - louder than all the rest.Â
A prince.
PrinceâŚyou donât hear the name.
But you donât need it.Â
Because youâre looking up at the grand staircase from which guests made their entrance, hand-in-hand with their partners or followed by their entourages. This one had neither. This one was one of the most beautiful men you think youâve ever seen.
He looked like something from a story.
Snow-white mask. Snow-white suit. He was tall and clearly toned - but there was something in his demeanor that made him seem almostâŚdainty. He gripped the balustrade of the landing and looked over the glistening ball- barely even breathing, it seemed like. And he looked content to remain there in awe, before the chief butler reading out the named coughs- pointedly.
The man startles.
He looks over at the chief butler, and then nods jerkily to himself. In self-assurance.
Cautiously, he makes his way down to the ball.
And the closer he gets, the more of his details youâre taking in: like the traces of signature silver on his suit, and the way his fingers trembled ever-so-slightly.Â
He looked just like the princes youâd read about in fairytales - the ones you imagined as a child before you happened to meet a real-life prince.Â
Curls of white could be seen behind that snow leopard mask of his. They contrasted oh-so-beautifully with the blue, blue sapphire atop his crown.
Just like his eyes.
Your breath hitches-
âI believe I may have been monopolizing you, Your Highness.â Michizane whispers as the Prince nears.Â
âPardon?â You look at him- but he merely smiles.
Before you know it, the mysterious guest has neared enough to give the two of you a jerky bow. His tone tremors ever-so-slightly as he asks, âP-permission for the next dance, Your Highness?â
Michizane nods at you reassuringly.Â
âI would be delighted.â You breathe, and then heâs taking your hand in hisâgently. A touch even softer than the fabric of his tender, tender gloves.Â
âI bid you a good evening, Your Highnesses.â Michizane tips his hat, âAnd do take care of the lovely princessâŚâ Before turning to the younger manâŚhis brows furrow the longer he looks-
But a lady-in-waiting taps Michizaneâs arm for a danceâand heâs made to turn away.Â
And youâre left alone.
With him.
Naoya stuck with some other lady-in-waiting as you put your handâŚtentatively on the other manâs right shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath, as if your mere touch was replenishing his soulâand he doesnât move away. Then you let your second hand get grasped - gently - in his own.Â
Backward with your right foot.
Sideways with your left foot.
Backwards.
Sideways.
Backwards.
Sideways.Â
Itâs halfway into the song, pressed closed to his thundering chest, that you finally break the silence. âThe crown suits youâŚSatoru.â
Gojo flinches, âYou discovered-â
âYou did not seriously think you could fool me?â You smile. He mirrors it- albeit sheepishly. âGojo Satoru, how could I possibly be gulled? You have been my dearest friend since I was eight-â
He twirls you in the middle of the ballroom.
And you continue. â-and the one I hold closest to heart.â Looking deep into his blue, blue eyes.
Gojo sighs, âWords cannot describe how beautiful you are, my princess. The least this fool can do is but dress to impress.â
âYou look particularly dashing this evening as well, Satoru. You always do.â Surprise makes his lips partâand youâre leaning in. Though they do not touch, you hear gasps from the onlookers. âYou look like a Prince.â
âAnd you look like my dreams.â
The two of you dance for a second song, and a third, and a fourth. Without letting Naoya gain any entryway between you two - that non-existent space - you two dance the night awayâdizzy with nothing but the proximity.
The realization that you could be soâŚclose as long as no one found out. That you couldnât be closer.
That you could.
That you needed to.
By the time that most of the guests had well and thoroughly indulged themselves in the bubbling champagne and wine, the clock had struck midnightâand you and Gojo disappear into the night once no oneâs looking. Through the small passageway where the two of you had first met, then up a few flights of staircases, breathless and giddy, youâre lucky there were no guards stationed outside your bed chambers as the ball raged on.
And youâre opening the door and falling into the vast bed with him.
Your hands on his lapels. His hands on your waist.
Youâre both letting out synchronized grunts as your back hits the springy mattress, and Gojoâs letting out a scorching breath that fans your face. That sets your skin searing.
âWe ought not toâŚâ You whisper- and then youâre pressing your lips down his neck. Illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the windows.
âI am of the same thought.â He responds, in an equally hushed tone - as if anything louder would shatter this fragile dream. It most certainly must be a dream, yes? This was all youâve ever wanted- and him. âAnd yetââ
And yet, Gojo places a hand on the back of your neck, and guides your mouth to his.Â
He kisses you loooong and deep- and inexperienced. You both are.
Youâre chuckling as you tug his lips open with yours - letting Gojoâs sultry tongue slide inside your wet cavern. He drags his tastebuds inside and moansâ
And after kissing you and kissing you as if starved for eonsâ
Until your lips were buzzing.
Until his hot hips were crushing into yours.
âyou let your fingers fall to his silver buttons. Rapidly undoing them.
âMy princess.â The jester wrenches deep from his chest - guttural and gone. There was a crazed hint in his tone already. âAllow meâŚâ
And before you know it, he guides your hips to rest back on the king-sized mattress. Sapphire eyes boring deeply into yours- Gojo hands you his crown to hold, as he hovers himself down and unravels the first few layers of your gown.Â
His fingers are quick- nimble.
And it takes him far shorter an amount of time to rid you down to your undergarments than it takes your careful attendants. Desperate. Depraved. Soon enough, youâre feeling goosebumps prickle across your skin at the bite of cold midnight air; your chemise and undergarments were much too thin.
And soaked.Â
Utterly, utterly soaked.Â
But Gojoâs face flushes - almost hard enough to warm your skin through sheer proximity. He admires your sopping cunt through your panties, he leans down and presses his nose right where your clit would be. And then he sniffsâ
âFuck.â
He almost jolts. Reaching in and tearing through your undergarments with his teeth.Â
âFuh-fuck.â
The noise that expels from him is almost unbidden- and its primal tone is enough to make your toes curl. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, he stares at your swollen folds. He stares at your glossy slit.Â
He stares and stares as slick beads out of you in a pretty streamâand before Gojoâs own mind seems to register, heâs muffling a hot moan between your naked legs. Immediately shoving himself nose-deep.
His chin thwacks! the top of your sopping slit, and his tongue wastes no time darting inwards.Â
Your entrance is so wet that he has no trouble easinâ his thick muscle inside- despite its impressive girth. And then immediately zig-zagging his sensual inches fucking inâaaaaaaall along your walls and driving the curvaceous tip of his tongue into every little ridge and cranny. Fat. Trembling with need.Â
âYes, my princess.â Gojoâs managing between husky breaths- each scorched out against where you were most sensitive. âYes, my princess-â
âS-Satoruââ Your handâs reaching down to twist your fingers into his snow-white locks.Â
Youâre giving him a particularly hard pull and he groans-
âMy princessâŚâ That ocean gaze of his is half-lidded and hypnotized, flickering right up to bore into your eyes as he gluttonously propels his tongue even deeper. âI cannot live if I do not make you mine.â
Your feet plant on either side of his shoulders- a steadfast pedestal. For you to buck your hips and shove your drivelling cunt against his mouth, âThen what deters you, jester?â
Gojoâs chuckle is dark and deepened with lust. âNothing, Your Highness.â
Heâs moving his tongue in and out of your hole at such a frenzy.Â
This was the night of your royal engagement, and youâre here getting eaten out by your jesterâ
âDoes it vex you that this lowborn jester has finally gotten his hands on the princessâs pretty pussy?â He gurgles out into your arching core, the wads of your sap slipping between his lipsâand then back out as he licks. âPerhaps not youâŚbut surely those godforsaken ministers that must have hoped for a moreâŚroyal touchâŚ.â
And licks and licks and licksââY-you keep running that mouth, Sato-â
âJester, remember?â He grins. âPray tell, Your Highness, am I the first?â
He must know the answer. He surely must- heâs been at your side for the past eighteen yearsâŚand you yourself were aware that you were his first, too.Â
Yet you find your lips moving before your mind does. And you whimper, âY-yesâŚâ
âPardon, my princess?â
âYes-â
Gojo drags the doughy patches of his fingertips across your clit.
âThen you grant this lowly fool the deepest and most precious honor.â
It was an honor.Â
An honor to eat your pretty coreâto press his puckered lips against your folds in such a sensual kiss- one that would make even the most scandalous of court ladies faint. To part those tender pussylips and dive his tongue inside- every single inch that thrusts away at a vigorous pace. Stuffing you from the hilt of his tastebuds, to that flexible tip that swirled to nâ fro-Â
Gojo had his face pressed up so closely - so deeeeep - that parts of his features were rubbinâ red. Covered in slick. Dripping with it.Â
And yet he was only scouring deeper- deeper- fucking deeper until your pelvis was crushed against his hungry maw. Crushed. âAnd this fool is grateful- so very, utterly grateful.â His tastebuds were going in nearly till those sweetened soft spots you loved so much in those solitary moments in the privacy of your baths, yet he flares his tongue till heâs stretchinâ you out even more. âI shall do anything for you, my princess- anythingâI live to serve you-â
Gojoâs honed canines nip at your clit.
âAnd this pussy.â
And serving you, he is.Â
With every fibre of his being. With every part of him that could reach youâheâs eating you out like such an animal, as if he was going fucking frenzied on your cunt.Â
The tip of his nose massaging your clit. That left hand of his fastening to your waist and dragging you right back nâ forth even deeper.Â
âAnd th-this fool deserves not such a privilege-â He whispers, mostly to himself. Though his wide, lust-glazed eyes maintain contact with yours, âThis fool deserves nothing. And yetâŚyet, I care not if they happened to enter this chamber right now- I would gladly get thrown in the gallows for this greed, for a second taste.âÂ
Wide-eyed - almost crazed - he tugs his wet tongue uuuuup the middle of your slit, and almost up to your navel. âIn fact, I beg of it.â
And his other handâŚ
Oh, Gojoâs other set of fingers smear the puddle of slick that spreads from your core- all along your inner thighs and making its way down your calves. He collects it all.
Every single drop.
And then, like the most precious of mead, he brings those wettened fingertips up to his mouth and sucks. Savors. Gojoâs eyes flutter closed and his Adamâs apple bobs with ecstasy - âShe tastes like she yearns for more.âÂ
âI speak seven languages, Your Highness.â Gojo replies, âOne of which is pussyââ Then with his flattened tongue, he laps up the rest of the satiny ribbons escaping you- before flicking his eyes to the mountain of pillows piled behind you. âMy princess, might I request that you procure a little treasure I have left underneath your favorite pillow?â
âA little treasureâŚ?â Almost dazed, you reach underneath and your fist closes around something soft and bell-decorated. One of his jesterâs hats.Â
âA long, long night beside the princess left this poor fool forgettingâthe hat bestowed upon me by the princess, I should be getting~â Gojo trills- whilst he still lavishes his heated, horny lips across your swollen cunt. âBut if the princess puts it upon my head, she can be as pushy- as she wishes as I eat this royal pussy~â
Your jester is speaking rhymes between your legs?
âOh, sometimes your mouth is overworked.â Youâre harrumphing at the overjoyed jester - once youâre unceremoniously dumping the cap nâ bell onto Gojoâs head.
Grinning, he bites down on the expensive tip of his right glove and tugs it off.Â
He makes quick work fastening that behind his ears, before nudging your hands to grasp onto the floppy âearsâ on top. Your sole source of balance as he leans in and eases one of his long fingers inside- then twoâthen teasinâ a third.
As he shovels in oblong inches into your sopping cunt, pushinâ apart your tender folds and letting his padded tips find their way inside. And inside.
In and out.
âPlease-â You breathe heavily as he quickens the pace after a few squelching thrusts. His middle finger was the longest, and it was spreading you apart the deepestâfuck, it was just so soft inside. So welcoming. So tight that you were clenchinâ around him almost hard enough to make his poor digits snap- and the mere thought makes Gojo hard enough in his trousers that he wants to cream them right away-
Youâre clamoring onto your elbows suddenly, âY-you cannot be serious, SatoruâŚâ
Oh, had he said that out loud? It seems heâd said that out loud. And yet, without even a hint of regret in his grin- Gojo hums. âA jester shanât ever lie to his princess.â Those kiss-bitten lips of his purse with a wad of spittle that lands gently between your pussylips, âOr his pussy.â
âYour pussy?â You ask- before the breathâs suddenly knocked out of you as he starts driving a third finger in this time. Properly.
Stretching you out to the maaaaaximum.Â
The globular ends of his fingers edging in, in, inâhe doesnât just remain pistoning them vertically. Gojoâs rude in the sense that heâs hooking them right below where you needed him the most.
Throbbing, thumping; your g-spot was most certainly aching for him.
But that was exactly the problem- and Gojoâs smile grows wicked as he keeps thrusting his three fingers into your cunt. âJ-just the slightest bitâŚfuck, to the left, jester.â
âIf the princess may still utter a sentence, then this poor jester must go harder on her entrance~â He croons. Swabbinâ into every good spot except for that one - your favorite - he suckles on your sensitive nub. âWhat deters you from claiming what you seek, hm? Use me, Your Highness.â
Your teary eyes snap open. When had you even closed them? âUse?â
âUse me.â Less of a demand- more of a live-saving plea. Gojo was so far gone by this point that his hardened hips were ruttinâ against the luxurious mattress with every swipe of his tongue, âClaim what you wish. Use me- use meââ
And as he wishes, youâre lightly tugging on the points of his jester hat to keep him pressed against you-
But that wasnât enough for him.
âI beg of youâthis lowly fool begsâŚâ As his right hand shapes out the tight, tight channel of your cunt - Gojo reaches his other hand up to grasp your own- to make you clutch his cap nâ bells even tighter. Hard enough for his fingernails to leave marks- and he needs you to be just as rough. âFucking use me like the princess you are. The princess that saved me.âÂ
He ruts even more suddenly- he must be painfully hard now.Â
âClaim my lips. Claim my tongue- claim every fibre of my being to be used by youâŚâ A low snarl snatches from the back of his throat. â-just claim me as yours, as I have claimed you, my princess.â
And then youâre knocking that stupid little hat off his head- and fisting your hands in his hair once more to crush Gojoâs pretty, pink lips against your cunt. Arching off the mattress, you were just bucking and bucking your treacly pussy all over his face.
Stringing yourself through the shockwaves of pleasure that kept pouring up your legs - like warm water. Gojo was just salivating in-between them.
He doesnât even have the time to breatheâand youâre getting the distinct feeling that he didnât want to. Couldnât even make himself think of anything else but dragging four - now four - fingers between those swollen-shut lips and thud-thud-thudding into your g-spot. âGood princess.â He hisses between clenched teeth, âGooooood princess-â
âKeep quiet, jester.â Youâre feeling yourself get slowly overcome by primal desperation.Â
âAs you wish, mistress~â And Gojoâs never been happier- lashing and lashing those ridged tastebuds inside until your walls buzzed with the texture. âMmmm.â
And soon enough, youâre feeling your legs start to twitch- in the way they did whenever you had your fingers stuffed deep in the baths- âOh.â By this point, Gojo was aiming to intrude four fingers and his slippery tongue between your pussylips.Â
Swirlinâ and swirlinâ itâtap-tap-tapping it over that first tight ring of muscle.Â
His greed sickened you- and made you even wetter. And with a forceful tug of those angelic strands of his, youâre staring deep into Gojoâs eyes - fluttering desperately as he fights not to detach himself with your wet pussy. He doesnât.
And heâs accelerating his fingers hitting the bullseyeâ
âI-I feel I shanât last very long, Sato- jester.â Youâre hissing, eyes threatening to shut as the white-hot pleasure keeps wracking through you.
With his spit-glossed lips wrapped around your clit, he hums. âMmm?â
âOh.â You hunch into him. âRepeat that.â
âMmmmmââ Gojo elongates his nearly-feline rumbles, and then his lips quirk up- into a grin you recognize as being a signature of when he gets a devious idea.Â
One sure to ruin courts and leave you amused - though youâre sure that youâre the sole one being ruined right now.Â
Heâs nuzzling his face ever-deeper against your cunt, then muffles out an entire sentence - what you assume to be a rhyme - whilst he keeps his mouth sucklinâ on your clit. Making the sensitive bursts of pleasure explode twofold behind your eyes- youâre seeing stars as he repeats itâagain, and again, and again and again and againâ
Gojo often did love repeating a joke if it managed to make you laugh exceptionally hard.
However, now you were all but crying out for mercy. Your chin trembles as you keen out Gojoâs name in a lingering echo, âI-I really shanât- ohâŚâ No matter how many years of royal diction or elocution youâve endured, it couldnât mask the way your voice cracks on the tail end of your sentence.Â
Almost pathetically so.
And soon enough, Gojoâs finding his witty mouth stuffed full- fucking you through your high.
Tongue flicking in and out. Teeth grazing over your clit.Â
He alternates between letting his tastebuds enter your pussy as wellâand then letting his doughy digit take over as he suckles on your clit. Like the sweetest thing in the world. âMmmm.â Repeating his little rhymes over and over- interrupted only by the noisy slurps! of him sucking on your nub- and the embarrassing little whimpers as he was wrenched by you.
Side-to-side. Up and down.
Youâre moving him wheeeeeerever you wanted- and he was in heaven as pain sears from his scalp.
You grip onto his braid, and another lock of his hair, as handlebars to prolong your wave of pleasure. The bliss stabs through you white-hot as he presses deeeep into your g-spot. âI havenât felt anything like this- hah, before, SatoruâŚâ
âYour jester aims to please.â
Your orgasm makes you shiver. It rattles past your walls - where the pounding was most prevalent - and then up your spine to make your head pound with pleasureâthe curling of your toes, the fluttering of your lashes, the way youâre letting escape the sweetest soft moans; sweeter than any orchestra downstairs. Gojo memorizes it all.Â
Through peak after peak.
Through thrust after thrust.
And as the crescendo comes to a close, he parts with your pussyâa pointed squelch! emanates from the connection. âThough the back of this Princessâs pussy I did knock, Her Royal Highness still yearns for the jesterâs cock~â
Your mouth gapes, âDo not tell me that was the rhyme you have been repeating this entire time?â
âAs you wish, I shanât.â He grins. And then Gojoâs raising himself to his haunches- shrugging off his cloaks and his coats. âPerhaps another? From all the princes and lords to pick, our beloved Princess yearned for the jesterâs di-â
âAnother word and you shall be turned out.â You warn him, albeit half-heartedly.
âNow that doesnât rhyme, Your Highness.â Gojo faux-pouts. With a few more tugs and pulls - he really didnât understand how you aristocrats wore this on every occasion - heâs ridding himself of his upper garments and his trousers.Â
Though youâve seen the royal jester shirtless time and time again, his perfectly-toned body made your eyes bulge.Â
And then finally the linen undergarments that presented himâGojo Satoruâs long cock, hot and rock-hard.
He was engorged till he looked fit to burst - with his mushroom-curved tip blushinâ an angry red, and his veins popping out down his shaft. So prominent that you could almost count every throb-throb-throb!
Gojoâs tip glistens wetly with precum, capping the top of his cock and just oozing like a lacquer down every inch. Almost eight inches, if youâre mentally counting correctly.Â
He wraps a single hand around his thickened base- rustling the soft curls decorating his pelvis. Spreading out in an alluring patternâGojo then uses his other hand to nudge your thighs apart. Hamstrings stretching. Toes curling. Making sure theyâre pinned to the springy mattress before he inches his red-hot cock closer.Â
Thereâs a resounding squeeeeelch! as he smears the very first, readied inch down your opening crevice.Â
âEasy there, Your Highness.â Gojoâs breath hatches with a moan. âEasy- hahâŚâ
âI am no steed, Satoru.â
âYou speak the truth, my princess.â He shoots you a ravishing smile- hungry. He really did look ready to eat you. Ready to shovel his entire length in.
Ready to breakâhimself. Fuck.
He was breaking himself.Â
A mere few inches are entering past that first ring of muscle-
And youâre arching your back into his chiselled chest. âOh h-heavensâŚâ It leaves you and mixes with the broken grunts nâ gruffs that were leaving Gojo just as equally, just as desperately, as he keeps your hips pushed into the bed and siiiiinks his cylindrical length inside.Â
Itâs like nothing your royal tutors had lectured you upon - down to the fact that all those awkward anatomical lessons were for your wedding night with a prince, no less.Â
You feel a pearl of red escape youâand you embrace him with weakened limbs. âSatoru-â
âH-heaven is correct.â Gojo hiccups out. Was he still stuck on that youâd uttered earlier- had he even heard anything more? And were thereâŚtears twinkling at the edges of his lashes?Â
Before you can finalize an answer, youâre mewling at the slight resistance of your cunt. Gojoâs cock was oh-so-girthyâmore than you might have expected, and seemed to be throbbing even bigger with every second he was mazinâ himself inside you.
And he feels the shift immediately- heâs affected by it immediately.
His handsome jaw grits. His chest caves with a sudden groan. He turns his half-lidded eyes downwards, and using both overlarge hands he grips each of your asscheeks.Â
Those pretty, princely features of his twist into something agonized- as Gojo arches his sculptured back and drives his cock inside. âPlease-â Your best friend pants out. âPlease, please, please, pleaseâh-havenât I served you well, Your Highness?â
âYou would be correctâŚ?â Youâre answering him- head foggy because of the sudden flurry of semi-thrusts.
In and out. In and out. He was buried just a few inches past his sensitive slit - and the small tremors of your cunt meant that he was thrown to ecstacy every few split-seconds.Â
Gojo seemed to be growing longer than you remembered seeing him.
Gojo seemed to be pulsing even thicker-
âTh-thenâŚshanât this lowly fool be rewarded with a single inchâŚ?â He mumbles- sounding utterly drunk. And it wasnât just his slurring tone and his tapering sentences that gave you that impression - but Gojo had his face pressed into the crook of your neck, and his hot tongue gliiiiiding up your sweaty neck. âA mere inch, my princess-â
You buck- and even that seemed far too much for the pussydrunken jester.
For heâs digging his crescent-shaped nails into your soft flesh and dragging you back into him - hitting his hips with a resounding thwack! âNo- no, please donât leave, Your Highness.â He begsâfucking begs.Â
âI-I am notâoh.â Another blustering thrust that leaves your deepest innards probed.
âIf you wish me to cease- then just say the word. And I shall heed every syllable.â Gojo murmurs, his sapphire eyes threatening to shut with the hypnotic squeeze. With his pure need. With the urge to feel himself from the outside- and considering how big he was, heâs sure heâd manage to. âBut please- please, do not leave me. Th-this pussy has been my deepest, darkest desire ever for f-far too long.â
Your eyes widen, âHow longâŚexactly?â
Those plump, rose-pink lips of his graze yours as soft as a feather. âEver since I knew what it wasâŚand I woke up with quite the ah- rock-hard situation. I had never left your chamber faster, Your Highness- what if the attendants witnessed it?â
You moan as one of his hands lifts off your ass to thumb aside your sultry pussylips. Lovingly full.
âWhat if they were aware how feverishly I desired you?â
They were just glued with sap- it makes him break off a moan.
âWhat if- hngh, what if they could see through meâa lowborn mutt- eager to dirty the precious princess?â
Gojo stares so long and lovingly at your slightly-ajar cuntâso lovingly, that his mouth ends up watering. He continues, âTo dirty youâŚto corrupt you.â A stream of spittle leaks from the corner of his lips, and it ends up dapplinâ over your folds.Â
âTo- hah, fuck you.â
Your jester roves his hips closer - smearing the translucent liquid using his hips. Aaaaaaall over as he nudges and nudges his rounded, reddened tip deeper inside - taking over your cunt little by little.Â
Stars flash behind your eyelids, and in that opportunity, Gojo had reached over to take the crown that heâd donned for the ball. Your engagement ball. And he was promptly caressing the top of your scalp with it, placing it atop your beautiful headâyou suited his colors.Â
Gojo lets out something that sounded more like a prayer: âTo fuck you with the crown on, has always been this foolâs most embarrassing wish.â
Heâs finally bottoming out.
Finally. And itâs a sensation like none other.Â
Gojoâs cock was stretching you out in ways youâve never felt before; managing to mold your channel to his measurements. And his hammers were just so sensualâslow, semi-thrusts so that he can fit himself inside. âPlease-â Inside and inside. âPlease, please- this lowly jester knows every secret and preference of yours, my princess.â
Your heels are digging into the gorgeous dimples at the base of his spine. âYes, ohâŚâ
âEvery- single- inchââ And youâre being propelled in short jerks upwards- those ancient royal bedsprings protesting. As much as you were begging for more. Your hands drag down his creamy-white back, leaving bloodied marks- and that only leaves him pulsating even harder inside you. Gojoâs blossomed tip had contentedly filled you up till your cervix - âIn ways those ministers would- hah, wring my neck over.â
âI would never let them.â Youâre spitting out.
âAnd yetâŚâ Gojo leans down to whisper. âThat only made this fool yearn for it- more-â A few more pressurized thrusts, and every prominent vein of his massages your spots oh-so-perfectly. As he pushes nâ pushes he continues babbling, âPlease let it fit inside-â His lips tremble with a whimper. âPlease let it fit insideââ
Shock strangles your words, âS-Satoru, youâre already inside.â
âP-pardon?â He almost stutters his hips - before he likely realized that your syrupy-sweet cunt was far too heavenly for him to merely linger. And heâs thrusting away like an animal.Â
Nodding, âSatoru, I promiseââ Eyes scrunching together at the incredible sensations of him stretchinâ you out, hitting into your every nook, letting his velvety tip glide across your tenderest area - that g-spot. âYouâve succeeded your fantasy.â Your legs tighten around his slender waist, âPromise.â
Gojoâs chin hits his chest.
And heâs staring down at where the two of you glossily connectââO-ohâŚâ Gojoâs mouth looked so delicious like this - you almost wanted to bite him - as an expression of cute surprise takes over him.
And all of a sudden, itâs as if heâs simply meltingâŚ
Into your arms. Into your cunt. Gojoâs honey-dipped tip probes into your cervix, and instead of even ramming away - heâs merely draaaaagging and swirlinâ the bulbous edge of him around. Again and agaaaaain. The texture of his flared ridge was something incredible, and it knocks nâ grinds against hidden spots of nerves. âI finally have you, Your Highness.â
Youâre feeling your heart pound at his confession - oh-so-tender. Even when he was fucking you deep into the plush mattress.
âYou have never not, my jester.â Youâre admitting back up at him.
The most beautiful smile graces his face- and Gojoâs feeling quite unfairly about all this. So heâs slitherinâ his right hand between your legs and spankinâ your neglected clit.
Those slight brushes of his bushy happy trail werenât enoughânow he was twiddling and turning such dizzying patterns atop that sweet, sweet nub. Watching your every minute expression, he hums. âBeautiful through anger, happiness and shock, yet the Princess looks prettiest on my cock~â
âYou fiend.â Youâre swatting his chest.
Only for him to gather up those weak legs of yours and bend you into a mating press- a mating press. Muscular thighs against your thighs. Your knees against your tits.
Gojo keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he drills away, âThough this lowly fool may be poor with the manners of a pig, arenât you happy to have a cock thatâs actually big~?â
And thatâŚyou have to admit that that one actually draws a laugh out of you.
And just as soon as the bubbling noise emerges from your lips-Â
Gojoâs body seems to collapse. His hips seem to falter. His cock thunks at the back of your womb, sending your teeth chattering, and lets out a throb-throb so hard that you feel it louder than your own heartbeat.
Your eyes shoot open, âS-SatoruâŚ?â
âI-I am quite alright, Your Highness. Naught to worry about.â Though there was something thoughtful behind his eyes, âIt is simplyâŚâ
And only after a few more thrustsâafter a few more rub-a-dubs of his thumbâŚfingers now so jittery on your cunt that heâs teasinâ you with his silver signet ring, too.
The smooth metal makes you keen-
âFor all the horses and all the men, could not pull the fool out of his princess again.â He near-tentatively utters. It could be heard only slightly above the smacking of skin-on-skin, of his hips practically plastered onto yours, and you canât help it - youâre startled into a laugh.
âP-pardon?â You speak through both moan nâ giggles.Â
âOhâŚâ Meanwhile, Gojo was absolutely shattering. He was drooling. He wasâfuck, he was tearing up. And great globules of tears were hitting the edge of your shoulder.
Gojoâs rubbinâ himself raw- heâs wracking his brain a mile a minute just for a new verse to come up with.Â
Something that will make you laugh.
Something that will make you squeeze your tremoring thighs âround him.Â
Something that will make you clenchâand itâs such a startling, tight sensation that damn-near sends him hurtling straight into his high. But he canât cum before you - of course, he canât. What good jester possibly ever could? Before his princess no less?
Gojo accelerates his hips until tears start clinging onto his long lashes, and his cocktip starts twitchinâ out of pure oversensitivity.
And so he keeps on repeatingârhyme after rhyme, botched whimper after whimper. Each one more ragged than the last. Your jester was making you whine with laughter as he fucked you- whispering in your ear in aaaaaall the dirty ways one perhaps shouldnât to a princess.
He fucks you like an animal.Â
Itâs the final note youâre hearing - ââno prettier princess than thee.â - as your sudden high takes you by surprise. Legs shaking. Back arching. Youâre squeezing him tighter than ever as the white-hot pleasure courses through you.
Thrumming your every vessel and vein.
Thrusted deeper into you with every one of his- they seem to burst pretty fireworks inside your now-emptied head. Nothing but lust inside it.
And it doesnât take much for Gojo to topple into his orgasm, as well. He shakes- he stuttersâŚâC-cummingâŚâ Breathlessly. Large tears were puddlinâ at the crook of your neck, dampening your skin more than your perspiration. âAnd I cannot think of a more appropriate home.â
âShould you sire an heir, they shall have your head.â Youâre whispering to him - a smile on your face.
âBut you forevermore have my heart.â
âRake.â
âFor you only, my princess.â
That bawling divot atop his shaft keeps floodinâ out a constant stream of cumâhot-white and lacquering your insides. Every single burst of cum made him twitch- letting out the prettiest erotic whines. âMy princessâsolely for you.âÂ
âMore.â You murmur gutturally. âMore- more.â
âMoreâŚdeep inside.â Lovingly, heâs patting at your bloated pussy. âJust for my princess.â
Until your walls were almost heavy with the condensation of his sap, and after only a few thrusts of his shaft- it was pouring out of you almost like a waterfall.Â
Between the crevice of your puffy pussylips, you feel it drip-drip-dripping out of you. Eventually formulating a little froth of creamy white âround Gojoâs swollen base - a few globules that heâs smearing with a thumb and pushing right back into you. A thumb stuck right between your folds. âA-and where do you believe you are putting your hands, Satoru?â
âSimply giving my princess everything she deservesâŚâ He leans down to nibble on your soft ear lobe. âAnd right on her engagement night, as well.â
Youâre moaning as he tugs on your clit a few more times.
âHappy engagement, Your Highness.â The jester speaks, as he fucks his cum into you harder than ever.Â
You end up babbling for a few minutes longer, before the sudden sparks of your high start bating- and Gojo himself starts finally slowing his hips down.Â
âMmmmâŚâ You reach up and clasp him by the back of his neck, sweaty, with his hair curled at the name. You whisper into his mouth, âMy greatest pleasure, to be engaged to you, Prince Gojo Satoru.â
Thereâs a long stretch of silence - still thrusting - before he mutters.Â
âI really do wish I could marry youâŚâ Summer sky-blue eyes shuttering into the kissâ
âSatoru.â
ââmy princess.â
.
.
.
âZenin Naoya.â
The young man whirls around - and his nose crinkles in distaste as an older man enters the royal guestsâ quarters.Â
No union had been announced.
The engagement ball had long since ended, and you had even long since disappeared with some prince- some jester, as he had discovered through ballroom gossip.Â
The fucking jester.
Naoya knew he should have gutted him after that dinner.
But alas, once he arrived outside your royal bed chambers to finish off the job- heâd been blocked by your personal guards from entering. That damned General Yaga had threatened that a single step closer could constitute an attempt at treason- treason?Â
Accusing him of treason? Did he not know who Naoya was?
General Yaga hadnât budged. And thus, Naoya had no choice left but to retire to his own guestâs quarters.Â
Alone and angry until morning arrived.Â
He had just settled with the thought of enacting his own taste of justice today- he shall lure some of the ministers to your bed chambers, perhaps falsifying an ailment youâd befallen under, before Gojo can escape. And once they discover that that lowborn jester had sullied the Princess- dungeons it is for the fool.
And oh-so-generous Prince Zenin Naoya shall agree to marry even a ruined maiden.Â
Then comes the crown. Then the titles, the land, the power.
The woman shanât be too bothersome, either, at least you were easy on the eyes. Even if the jester had gotten his hands on you first.
And ahâŚperhaps he shall throw out this court and your father along with it? Thatâs if he was in a good mood - and it was the original plan, after allâŚ
Or perhaps he shall stage a coup of which your father had âledâ and enact justice as King- yesâŚa royal hanging should seem righteous enough. The jester shall be first.Â
This was justice.Â
Naoya had just been in the middle of writing a letter to inform his father of this change of plans, when a knock-knock-knock thundered from the door. The broad, bearded man on the other side of it hadnât waited for him to answer before coming inside.Â
âMay IâŚhelp you?â He stands. Had this seemed like any old guard or minister, then Naoya would not have hesitated to draw his sword- but this was clearly someone of high status. Of numerous battle accomplishments.
And his eyes dip down to the silver scabbard at his waistâŚ
This was clearly someone potent.
âI have arrived with a proposition.â The bearded man invites himself to sit down on the very chair that Naoya had been at work at.
Naoyaâs eyes narrow, âOf what kind? Do I look like an errand boy to-â
âOf the kind I am aware your family is quite expert at.â Those words held such a dark weight to themâand he doesnât take his eyes off of the Prince for a single second as he utters. âTo be frank, I must request the ahâŚremoval of Prince Okkotsu Yuta from the throne.â
That makes the royal straighten. âFind yourself a common mercenary-â
THUNKâ!
From underneath his coat, the visitor pulls out a hefty bag - so large that Naoya wonders just how it had remained obscured for this long. There is a weight to it that makes the polished desk rattle, papers flying. There is an overabundance of its contentsâso that the burlap rim threatens to burst open.
Naoya gulps as he eyes the - albeit alluring - bag. âD-do you believe the Kingdom of Zenins to have plummeted so far that we hold the need for a single sack of gold?â
The other man chuckles, âGold?â
And with a single flick at the rimâitâs opening to revealâŚsapphires.
A miniature mountain of it.
Such a rare beauty. Naoya had never seen so many in all the treasuries heâd ransacked combined - and his hand it darting out to grasp itâ
âThis is, of courseâŚmerely the advance.â The man places his hand on top of the bag, and slides it discreetly away from the Prince. His fingers twitch towards it, but Naoya canât do anything with the other man here. âTrust me when I claim that your kingdom will have no shortage of sapphires for the next hundred years. I simply request that you prove your abilities to me.â
That snaps the Prince out of his constant eye-contact with the expensive bag. âProve?â
His now-client nods. âProve it. I should hope that the eradication of Prince Yuta shanât prove too daunting- and for that, I wish to know what otherâŚdeeds you have accomplished, Your Highness.â
âThe burning of the Inumaki kingdomâs crops.â Naoya immediately blurts outâbefore he lists off his familyâs proud accomplishments as though he was listing off a market list. The other man nods with an unreadable expression. âTheâŚdisplacement of the Cursed rubies, the demotion of the Ijichi household, the framing and eradication of the Gojo family-â
âOh?â At that last one, he looks more alert. âKindly elaborate on that final one, it seems to have ahâŚpiqued my interest.â
Naoya hesitates- before a single glance at the sapphire sack makes him talk once more. âIt was prior to my birth, thus the details might not be as adequate. Essentially what happened had to be done- the Gojo royals were advancing their economy in leaps and boundsâfar too rapidly, far too soon.â
As he continues, an almost proud smile twitches at his lips.Â
âIt was ingenious- really.â He hums, âJust a few forged letters, just a single meeting with His Majesty-â Naoya gestures vaguely at this palace. âAnd he became convinced that the Gojos were planning battle over the borders.â
Naoya spits.
âBorders? Pah- what borders?â Heâs pacing now, hands clasped behind his backâback turning to the other man as the Prince stares into the licking fireplace. âCome dawn, the palace was painted in red. Ministers. Mongrels. That King and Queen- the cowards begged for mercy, were you aware?â
Silence stretches.
It seems like an eon passes before the manâs answering - in a rough tone that punctures the silence. âIâŚI was not aware, no.â
Naoya huffs out haughty laughter.
âAnd what of their son?â
The Prince looks at the other man over his shoulder, brows pinched in confusion. âThey had no son.â
âNo.â The sword is pulled out of his scabbard. âThey hid Gojo Satoru well.âÂ
It embeds deeply in the junction between Naoyaâs shoulder and his neckâand his scream is silent. Expression twisted into shock as those final words registered - Gojo Satoru. Even in death, he hears his name.Â
Much louder than Naoyaâs scream was the impact of his cold, dead body hitting the carpeted floor - and almost instantly, Prince Okkotsu Yuta enters the chambers. âI have recorded the confession, uncle, and the troops are storming the Zenin palace as we speak.â
âGood.â Michizane pulls his sword out and watches as blood creates a painting across the brick fireplace and floor. He wipes it off using what would have been Prince Naoyaâs engagement robes, and places it back in his scabbard.Â
Yuta takes a step closer to offer a clean wipe to his uncle, âShould I summon a court meeting at once?â
âNo.â Michizane takes it and dabs at the beads of sweat on his forehead. Then he nods at Yuta to collect the bag of precious sapphires, âI have a far more important affair to attend to.â
.
.
.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKâ!
Both you and Gojo startle awake- and a single glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows reveals sunlight filtering in. A soft breeze rustles the sheer curtainsâŚand Gojoâs beautiful locks right beside you.
It wasnât the first time that you were waking up next to him.
But it was the first time it wasâŚin such a manner.
Youâre tugging on the satin blanket- of which you were wearing nothing underneath. Bare. Barely holding yourself back from him. And Gojo smiles to himself as the thought seems to occur to him, as well, reaching over to kiss youâbefore wincing at the red, red nail marks that twinged with movement.Â
Youâre leaning in as wellâ
But then two things occur to you:
It must have been at least midday.
Someone was at the door.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKâ!
More insistent this time.
The two of you look at each other.
Then at the door.
Then at each other.
Gojo jumps to his feet, throwing off the blankets and attempting to dive underneath your bed- but youâre raising a hand to stop him. Shaking your head imperceptibly. âNoâŚâ
âMy princess?â Gojo asks.
âI believe there comes a time where one must stop running.â Youâre speaking, more to yourself. And in a quick fashion you cross the room to don your satin robeâGojo manages to bunch up a few blankets that cover his bits. You shake your head and scour for one of his casual night garments from underneath your bed - throwing it at his head.
âFor all the princess in the land-â
âOh, perhaps I ought to hand you to the guards.â The guards that were surely outside. Perhaps waiting to accuse you of treason for shattering the Zenin union. Perhaps ready to embarrass you and your jester in front of the royal courts.
Whatever it shall be - whatever the price may be for loving Gojo Satoru - youâre raising your head high and taking it like a ruler.Â
You open the doors, and outside standsâŚ
Michizane?
He looks just as startled as you, though he manages out a rough smile. âMay I see the ring?âÂ
Youâre unsure what he meansâand youâre considering telling your guards to escort him away, when Michizane peers inside your bedroom and locks eyes with Gojo. Gojo who seems to startle the instant that blue, blue gaze meets his. PerhapsâŚ
And then heâs stepping forwards- pushing the door open ever-so-slightly further open.
And presenting his left hand - with the silver signet ring still upon it. A hollowed gasp leaves the older man, and heâs clasping Gojoâs hand in his own trembling, timid onesâholding it as though it was the most prized treasure in this world. Buried for eons.Â
Gojoâs voice sounds scratchy, âI-it is not my possession to don-â
Michizane shakes his head.Â
âI believeâŚâ He looks between the two of you, bright eyes twinkling with tears. â-that there is much we need to speak of.â
.
.
.
There was to be a royal wedding.
There was to be a royal wedding.
There was to be a royal wedding.
The union between yourself and the long-lost prince of the Gojo kingdom.Â
After Michizane had explained to you both - let alone an astounded court - that he was the uncle of your beloved jester, that he was titled royalty, and that Gojo himselfâŚwas the sole survivor of a gruesome attack that the Zenin family had orchestratedâŚGojo didnât believe it. Not at first.
Not that someone knew his life before this life.
Not that someone had come toâŚsave him. Because Michizane didnât - to Gojo, it had been you. And it forevermore shall be.
But you could see the fearful hope - almost unwelcome on his face - as Michizane explained that he hadnât known about the status of the Gojo heir, his nephew, before the engagement ball. He was so young, he must have forced himself to forget such a traumatic ordeal. Thus, it had always been assumed that he had perished along with his brother and his wifeâthough Michizane couldnât find a small body amongst the carnage.Â
And so he had always hopedâŚalways, alwaysâŚ
And it had been the signet ring (looted by the Zenins and gifted to your father, no doubt) that roused his suspicions. Then those eyes. That hair. That smile, like his motherâs.
It had to have been him.
Fearing such an attack, had the late Gojo royals not kept the birth of their son a secret, then his features would have gotten him poisoned before he even stepped foot into the royal court. The cap nâ bells masked more than one would think.Â
The scheme to expose the Zenins had been planned beforehand - being the only reason that Michizane even attended the ball in-person. And heâd thought that perhaps finding his late nephewâs look-alike had been a good omen.
Had beenâŚ
Oh, he just had to confirm it for himself. Especially after Naoya had affirmed that the Zeninâs hadnât been aware of any son.Â
Michizane could see the Gojo name in the boy. And so he was right.Â
Acceptance had taken long hours cooped up in the numerous palace librariesâporing over history books, and rewriting ones that misunderstood.
During this time was when youâd iron-handed your ministers into changing the law that âonly a prince shall marry a princessâ. Of course.Â
Long days and longer conversations.
Gojo had finally accepted that he was the sole righteous heir to the throne of Gojo by the time heâd ascended to the throne. It had occurred during a coronation too grand for words - of which you were the honored guest, of course.
Michizane had accumulated vast sapphire mines during his time away, and the Gojo kingdomâs infrastructure was soon able to recuperate their losses. Though not all of itâŚcertainly some wounds would take time.
But the first time that Gojo stepped through those familiar palace walls, he cried as if it were a dream. And heâd said as muchââI had believed it was a dream- oh, I believed this was all a dream. This is my home.â As he embraced you in the middle of the royal lobby, you could agree with the sentiment. âYou are my home.â
The first portrait that one saw when they entered the palace - moved by Michizane from Gojoâs former chambers to the main hallways - was one of his mother, his father, and Gojo himself.
Just an infant with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile.
He had his fatherâs eyes, but his motherâs smile.Â
After Gojoâs crowning, the borders of the Gojo kingdom were reestablished - all territories and citizens that surrounding kingdoms (as well as yours) had absorbed were handed to their rightful ruler.
His kingdom was newâŚbut building. And fast.
Then Gojo had gotten to work helping right all of the Zeninsâ wrongs. He aided in expanding the Inumakisâ agricultural lands, he returned the Cursed rubies that had been embedded in Naoyaâs coronet to lord Sukuna, he promoted the Ijichi householdâs titles twofold.Â
And he rebuilt his own family.Â
Of course, the Zenins themselves met their rightful fate. Prince Yuta had attacked their palace and numerous fortresses, causing those family members to be impounded. Some fled but were quickly caughtâin part due to General Yagaâs tireless assistance.Â
Gojo had insisted that the children grow up in his palace. And though youâd been befuddled at first - most certainly you wouldnât allow them to be hurtâŚbut as for raising them yourselves over placing them in noble homes - you quickly registered that Gojo simply didnât want history to repeat itself.
Above all, he took in young Fushiguro Megumi as a ward.
The trials for the other family members were currently ongoing.
But, recently, there was a new event that shook your kingdom.Â
The wedding.Â
Not one of political natureâŚbut rather love. No matter the class, position, or power the two of you heldâyou would always be his princess, and he your best friend- oh alrightâŚyour jester. But solely because Gojo still loved to act a-fool to make you laugh.Â
Your father had no choice but to approve your wedding to such a powerful young King. Why would he risk such strong political ties? Why would he risk your abandonment?
Your people throw snow-white petals of gardenia as the wedding carriage passes through the streets- on its way to a honeymoon voyage before setting down in a newly-built palace between his kingdom and yours. Megumi would live there, too, and of course youâd convinced your most-trusted attendantsâUtahime and everyone else that had readied Gojo that night of the engagement ball - to reside there, as well.Â
Not as servers, but with titles. With General Yaga as your head of guards.
You couldnât be happier.Â
Gojo holds your hand. Wedding band on his left ring finger, the Gojo signet on his middle. Â
Faces beamed and cheers soared as you two passed by in your dream-like carriageâupon a cloud. And though the kingdom had been decorated until one nearly couldnât spot a single roof, Gojo only had eyes for you.
Heâs unabashed as he leans down to publicly kiss you.Â
Now that he finally could, the boy that had once been jester.
âSatoru.â
âMy queen.â
A/N. Ugh had just finished watching the animated Sleeping Beauty before I wrote that ending, can you tell??
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, DlLFS (and MlLFS too!), age gaps (reader and JJK men are ALWAYS aduIts), arranged marriages (Toji), cIan Ieader!Toji, sIight exhĂbitĂonism, sIight bĂłndage (Nanami), mentions of kids, brĂŠeding, manhandIing, matĂng presses, HEADLOCKS, p sIapping, p talking, spĂtting, fĂngering, rings and pĂercings, rockstar!Geto, headIines, use of âmĂłmmyâ (Ino), miIking, overstĂm, sĂşgar dĂĄddies, running from it, oIder men, sĂxty-nĂne, talking you through it, pressing down, making it fit, heâs BIG, counting inches, overworked Higuruma, creampĂes, cĂşmpIay, sIight cĂşmfIation, pIot, pet names, swĂŠaring.
A/N. MWAHAHAH.
⥠TOJI FUSHIGURO - The Arrangement.
âO-oh, shââ
âShhhhh.â Tojiâs voice is dangerous. Low. His chin was hooked into the crook of your neck - and youâre getting pushed back down, down, dooooown his-Â
âOh myâŚâ Your mouth waters, weak arm reaching out to grasp the edge of the futon.
But Tojiâs guiding it to his shaggy salt-and-pepper hair. Making you tug. Making you wrench.
His other palm - calloused after what you assume to be countless years of training his Heavenly Restriction - comes up to plaster over your mouth. âUnless ya want them to hear.â He mutters, referring to the council of elders seated behind the sliding doors.Â
You knew it was part of the ceremony: to make sure that you and the older clan leaderâŚaffirmed your new union.
An arranged marriage, of course. The marriage of the century in jujutsu societyâs highest circles.Â
But even after a lavish wedding, and an even more lavish title suited to you, you still couldnât believe that you were married to Zenin Toji.
Perhaps expected considering that the two of you had met just a few weeks ago; youâd announced to your council that you were ready for marriage. And theyâd then presented you with a list of all the potential candidates for husbandâevery eligible bachelor from the Kamo clan to the rather obscure Fujiwara clan. The list had gone on and on with their names and ages.
And at the very end youâd spottedâ
Zenin TojiâAge: 38 (once divorced).Â
As soon as the elders had noticed you focusing on that one name, theyâd dismissed you with a nervous chuckle. âOh, thatâs just Toji. Ignore him, heâs just there out of obligation-â
âBut why would I ignore him?âAnd that had effectively shut them up.
Although what you really wanted were more answers.
Toji.
Toji.
Most of the other candidates ranged across their twenties, and they were names youâd heard of in mere passing during those stuffy clan functions. Toji, however, was beyond that age range and once divorcedâand youâd heard of him almost too well. You knew him without ever knowing him.
Youâd heard of the newly-appointed Zenin clan leader as he fought against every single elder to claim his rightful title as head - the first one sinceâŚever without a speck of cursed energy.
Youâd heard of the terror of the Zenin clan - or so they whispered - who could bring down battalions with a single swipe of his cursed weapons. He didnât need cursed energyâand what they feared above all was the power of raw humanity underneath it.
ButâŚyouâd also heard of the merciful man. The first Zenin clan leader to grant his wife a divorce when she wished for it, thus leaving him printed once more upon a paper listing jujutsu societyâs bachelors.Â
Leaving him impressioned in your mind.
Zenin Toji was an enigma you wanted to understand.
And you laughed at the expressions upon your eldersâ faces as you announced that the sole candidate you were interested in was none other than the notorious Toji. You could count on one hand how many had readily agreed to your union with the older manâand that would be exactly zero fingers.Â
However, the meeting had proceeded as tradition dictated. Your council of elders reached out to the uptight council of the Zenins - and theyâd reached out to re-confirm thrice that the man you were really looking for was Toji. Wasnât he much older? Wasnât he fearsome? Wasnât he difficult to understand?
You waved off their worries and met him over a fragrant tea ceremony.Â
To be quite honest; there wasnât much talking between the two of you - although the Zenin elders kept up a constant stream of chatter with the elders of your own family. Meanwhile you simply looked at Toji over the rim of your ceramic cupâandâwatchedâ
And he met your gaze just as intensely.
By the end of the tea ceremony, you nudged your elders to proclaim your approval for a union.
And Toji nodded his own approval.
The wedding preparations were accomplished in a week. It was a wedding for the history books - you heard that your council of elders were pushing to get it written in already - and it ended off with a lavish banquet that lasted into the long, long hours of the night.Â
As sunlight started seeping into the horizon, you and Toji got up from your seats at the head of the table. And you made your way to the master bedroomâwhere rows upon rows of elders sat outside in preparation for the consummation.
They were here to hear you-
âFuck.â You canât stop the sudden whimper that escapes you at the feeling of Toji hiking up one of his muscular thighs. He still had his wedding robes on - dishevelled upon his frame, the graze of expensive Zenin cotton nâ silk makes you shiverâ
And as soon as you do, you feel one of his large palms settle at the base of your spine.
Toji keeps you pinned down - deliciously helpless - once he reaches that upright leg forwards and rests his heel atop your scalp. Stepping on your sweaty crown. Keeping you pinned in one place as he fucks you- with a sheer audacity that makes your jaw drop.
âCareful.â Tojiâs low tone trundles out. Youâre bent into such a shape that it makes his cock thicker- stretchinâ out your snug channel with a sultry squeeeelch! âKeep your mouth open like that and youâll catch flies.â
Leaning down as far as he could, he then spits.
âOr youâll catch me.â
A few more vicious strokes that leave you gaping.
A few more changing angles- Toji was the type to not just straightly thrust. He was stirring his cock âround in somewhat circular motions of his hips as he pummeled inside, managing to hit eeeeevery single nerve-ended spot inside you. âAnd- hah, and we wouldnât wanna explain that to those old toads, heh?â Asking you. And thenâŚnot you. âIsnât that right, fuckers?â
Thereâs restless murmuring from outside.Â
âW-well, maybe if youâfuuuuuck.â Just as soon as youâre mid-sentence - as though Toji had been waiting for this exact moment - he reaches forwards and slams! his ruddied tip into you hard enough that you can feel him in your damn throat. âFuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-âÂ
âLoud.â Scoffing. âThough I bet they already know whatâs happening- hah.â
You were in utter shambles.Â
Tojiâs cock was sensually curved towards the right - the perfect angle to spot those areas where you were most sensitive and stimulate them until you were crying. âY-youâre so shamelessâ!â
With a roll of his forest-green eyes, the clan leader crouches his body further forwards and accelerates his pace. His heel pressing down even harder.
With this position he had you in, Toji couldnât keep his palm glued to your drivelling maw anymore. And he was letting it aaaaaall outâthe more nâ more pretty moans that were leaving you, the more heâs speeding up his hips. Purposefully thumping his blushinâ red tip down your most precious spots.Â
And as if that wasnât enough, heâs using his free hand to sift apart your stuffy pussy. Pressinâ aside your folds and getting a good eyeful of your entrance - getting flooded with his rock-hard inches, and then emptied out for him to do it all over again. And again. And again and again andââAnd who was it that decided to marry me?â
You donât know whatâs hitting you harder: the shock of being called out, or the sudden wad of saliva that heâs spitting between your legs. âWellâŚmeâŚâ
Toji nods. âPretty young thing like youâŚfor what reason could you want to marry- me-â Every space between his words was punctured with a targeted strike to your g-spot. âMoney? Name? Power?â
Your headâs getting foggy - you donât even realize that youâre drooling before Toji looks down and tuts. He watches as a slick puddle formulates underneath youââDid you wanna marry this olâ clan leader for power, doll? Sâthat what you wanted?â
As much as you could, youâre shaking your head- difficult, given the way he still had the heel of his foot on you.
âNo? Then what?â Toji pretends to think. âHmmm, could it be that your clan elders pressured you into this, doll?â And just at that moment, he stops- even though it seems as if he wanted to say more. âIâll kill you all ifââ
It wasnât targeted towards you.Â
But youâre vehemently denyingââNo. No. Not at allâŚâ Sobs and sultry moans strangle in your throat, and your poor, poor hips are driving back into his as much as you could. âPlease- oh, I j-just wantedââ
âLet me think.â Now that heâd started his vigorous pace up again, your eardrums were crackling with the constant pap-pap-pap! of Tojiâs toned hips hitting yours. He was just so large - in every possible way, it was as though he was engulfing you with his massive body, with his shaft stretchinâ out your insides in ways youâve never experienced before. âIs it because- haaaaahâŚâ Toji breathes, the cloud of his heated breath wafting down your arched spine. âIs it because you knew that those other- boys couldnât fuck you as well as I could?â
Your jaw drops- âFuck.â
But it seems that Toji had found his footing. He drags you even harder against him - the ramming of your two bodies almost violently shaking the flooring beneath. âIs it because you knew that- mmm, this pussy would always be satisfied with me?â Whatever little jostling youâre experiencing at his movements, heâs considering it a nod. âIs it because youâd been greedy? Because youâve been yearning-â
Somehow, heâs tipping his head backwards and managing to perfect a stream of spit down onto your stuffed cunt.
â-for someone more mature. Someone that knows how to handle a pussy, doll?â Voice dipped in lust. âHave you been yearning for Zenin Toji to fuck you properly?â
âY-yesââ You pitch out softly. Sniffling. Seeing stars behind your eyelids. âToji, mâso closeâŚâ
âSo cum, then?â He snickers, as though it should be the most obvious thing in the world. âWhatâre you waiting for? Permission?â Leaning back and projecting his voice - though, not for you. âJust so yâknow, Iâm gonna make my wife cum.âÂ
âOh-oh my godââ The words crackle in your throat as a final bash to your syrupy-sweet spot leaving you careening into your high. Stars of pleasure burst behind your shuttered lids - and youâre dragged through wave upon wave of white-hot bliss.Â
It overtakes you like nothing youâve ever felt before.
And Toji was only more than happy to prolong them using his length. Hitting you right when your peaks were at their highest - and if you were in the right state, then youâd wonder how he even managed to time them - and making your veins feel molten within. Making you whimper and thrash into him. Thrashing and thrashingâfucked like youâve never been before through your orgasm.
Youâre so hazy afterwards that you barely even register the shuffling outside the bedroom - as the elders started making their way back to the banquet. Mission accomplished, you suppose.
And Toji takes his foot off your head.Â
âHaaaaah, fuck.â He hisses. âWant to give them an encore, my wife?â
You couldnât nod faster.
Before you know it, heâs tipping his head back and calling out - at the eldersâ
âGet ready for an encore, fuckers.â
⥠NANAMI KENTO - Parent-teacher DATING?!
âMs. TeacherâŚâÂ
Itadoriâs sweet, sweet voice breaks through your conversation with one of the parents; and youâre looking down to see him clasping one end of your flower-patterned apron. Pink brows furrowed. Chubby cheeks puffed. And how could anyone resist that face?
So throwing an apologetic smile at the parent, youâre leaning down slightly so that you could hear the little boy better. âYes, Yuji?â
He cups a hand over his mouth then leans in towards your ear as if to whisper. âI have a secret to tell you.â And he does not whisper.
Still, you bite back a giggle and ask. âOh, really? How exciting. Do I get to know that secret, Yuji?â
He nods.
Then leans in once more-
âMy papa has a big, big crush on y-â
âYujiâ!â
You didnât have to look up to see that it was none other than Nanami Kento, Itadoriâs father, pushing past a few gossiping parents and kids playing jumprope- heading in your direction. He quickly clasps Itadoriâs arm and gently tugs the boy away, âI am so, so sorryâI have no idea whatâs gotten into him-â Nanami pinches the top of his nosebridge with a sigh. âHe seems to have gotten it into his head that I have f-feelings for you, andâŚâ
You watch, almost astounded, as the ever-stoic Nanamiâs ears burn bright red.
âA-and I sincerely apologize if he made you uncomfortable in any way-â
âOh, no.â Youâre raising your hands up and fervently shaking your head. âHe didnât make me uncomfortable at all. Did you, Yuji?â
âYup!â Those tufts of pink hair atop his head bounce as he nods as well, beaming - happy to see that you were on his side, at the very least. He then turns back to Nanami. âI didnât make Ms. Teacher uncomfortable, papa. I just told her what you told me-â
âSunshineâŚâ Nanami grumbles, though with less panic in his voice this time.
And youâre biting back a smile as you look between the handsome father and his son; itâd been two years since Nanami had adopted Itadori, according to what the man had told you when heâd first enrolled the boy in Tokyo Jujutsu Elementary. Since then, youâve had the privilege of watching over the father-son duo as they become closer, as they found family in one another, as they opened themselves up to both the school and you.Â
And although you knew you shouldnât have favorites as a teacher - you canât deny that one of the best parts of your day was seeing the two.Â
Yes, the two.
It didnât quite help that Nanami Kento was the talk amongst the single ladies and men at pick-up. Tall. Tender. With his broad shoulders and his blond hairâalways slicked back, not even a single strand out of line.Â
Nanami was the type of man to hold doors open for students, other parents, and teachers alike - heâd happily stand there for half an hour as an entire grade passed by, if he had to.
Nanami was the type of man to not worry about what anyone thought of him as he let his energetic son paste stickers all over him, or use the play make-up heâd snagged from Kugisaki.
Nanami was the type of man to buy you a large bouquet of roses for Teacherâs Day- roses. And heâd apologized for at least fifteen minutes about not meaning any sort of innuendo, and heâd completely understand if you didnât want to take themâyouâd cut him off then nâ there by taking them with a gracious thank you. Even if others at pick-up shot you knowing smiles.Â
So could you blame yourself if you happened to form a crush on the man?
And hearing what Itadori had to say about it nowâŚ
âI wouldnât mind, yâknow.â You speak once youâd ushered Itadori to play with some of his friendsâFushiguro and Kugisaki had just been dropped off. And Nanami was still standing next to you, watching as his son scampered off after causing perhaps the most chaos heâs ever experienced in his life.Â
But ahâŚyour voice was low enough that it couldnât be heard by anyone around you two. Perhaps not even Nanami himself- but of course, he heard.
Of course, he heard.
He turns to you with widened eyes, âI uhâŚI- excuse me?â
You turn back to him with a grin, âHow about coffee sometime this week?â
âI have a better plan.â As soon as the first bout of shyness wears off, heâs clearing his crackling throat and answering you. âHow about dinner?â
.
.
.
âFuck. Fuck. Fuh-fuck.â Nanami wrenches between clenched teeth. His hot breath sticks against the side of your throat; and every single puff makes your skin erupt with perspiration.Â
Which worked for himâit just let the movements between your two ravenous bodies proceed even faster, slipperier, sloppier. Nanami has you pressed flat against his neat mattress, in a bedroom that was humble and meticulously organized - and with Itadori at Fushiguroâs for a sleepover, the two of you could let those ancient bedsprings creak as much as they liked.Â
Nanami could fuck you as hard as you liked.
Heâs grinding that golden happy trail into your front; both palms pressed flatly atop your inner thighs to keep them open. To keep you stretched as faaaaar apart as you could goâbecause fuck- Nanamiâs cock was thick enough that he had to pin you down nâ squeeeeeeze his inches inside as far as they could go.Â
Rubbinâ his prominent veins along your walls. Entire body tensing up whenever you clench-
âFuuuuuuck.â With a heavy sigh, heâs letting his head tip backwards. And honestlyâyou donât think youâd ever seen a more attractive sight.Â
Youâve always known that Nanami was ripped underneath those office button-ups of his - but this was damn-near Herculean. The way his shoulders were defined and pulled taut as they closed in on you, the way his chest was absolutely lusciousâyou almost wanted to take a bite. And youâd guessed that with energetic Itadori as a son, he hadnât had the time to hit the gym lately.
Because there was a layer of thickness over his muscles that left Nanami softer and stronger- the soft curve of his belly pushes down on your core.Â
Jostling your body back nâ forth with every honed thrust.
Banging at the back of your cervix and your throat- âFuck. It feels so good, Kento.âÂ
âS-soooooo fucking good.â And you wonder which one of you two was more gone on your syrupy cunt: you or him. Nanami struggles to keep his damn head up- collapsing into the crook of your neck and letting out botched groans- every single time his sensitive tip slid uuuuuup your channel into its deepest depths. He almost sounded as though he was in pain as he weptââF-forgive me, darling.â
Perking your head off the plush pillows, âWhat for, Kento?â
âWell itâs justâŚâ And his foggy glasses were still on his face - which Nanami pushes up his nose bridge. âI havenât felt this good inâforever. So forgive me if Iâm a littleâŚâ
And then heâs surging his hips forwards and giving you a good thwack! with the rounded end of his shaft. Enough to make stars appear in your vision-
â-rough.â
And then itâs like the floodgates have opened.
Because Nanamiâs grip on you grows hard enough to leave fucking nail marks, his sweat splashes with the urgency of his movements. âAnd I wanted to f-fuck you all niiiiiice and slow like this pretty pussy deserves.â Those strong arms keep manhandling you open as he shovels straight into you. âW-wanted to show you that a mature man like me could- hngh, make you feel the best youâve ever felt.â
âBut I already doâŚâ You huff out, arms thrown needily around his neck.Â
Yet Nanami doesnât seem to hearâhe doesnât even seem to register. At least, the only acknowledgement that you get of your response is the way his body flinches ever-so-slightly at the mere sound of your voice. âAnd yetâŚâ Those hazel-brown eyes of his widen as they run down your body, ultimately resting where your pussy was bloated all âround him. âAnd yet, one kiss of these pretty lips and Iâm done for.â
âD-done forâŚâ You repeat - mostly because you donât know what else to do.
Donât know what else youâre capable of doing other than wrapping your weak legs around his waist. Your hamstrings stretch and scream; and youâre sobbing yourself as his pace seems to accelerate.
âI can feel myselfâŚâ Nanami speaks through a watery mouth. â-getting fucking addictedâshit, like some hormonal punk. I should know better. A man my ageâŚâ
âOh- oh, Kento.â
âI should know better- I should fucking know better.â He admonishes himself - though that doesnât stop or even slow down the feral pap-pap-paps! of his pelvis hitting yours. Through scrunched-up eyes, heâs gazing upon you. âC-canât believe you got some old man like me-â Despite your instant protests. â-to finally break.â
After a few more sudden strikes - almost animalistic - youâre managing to string together enough syllables. âButâŚI donât mind, Kento.â
And thatâthat might just be the one thing that makes him falter. âPardon?â He blinks up at you with glazed-over eyes.
Nodding, âI promise I donât mind.â In fact, youâre tugging him in with a fistful of his blond strands between your fingers. âI- ngh! want you to go even harderâŚif you can-â
âOf course I can, my love.â The both of you are startled by his instant answer. âI-I mean, if you know that it means I might leave a few marks andâeven more marks.â Perhaps most notably on your spongy cervix, welcoming his bashing thrusts.
But you donât mind. Like you said.
Youâre nodding even harder, âYes, please.â
So polite. How could he ever refuse?
And in the blink of an eye, the blond-haired man leans over to clasp that patterned tie draped over his bedpost. Itâd gotten thrown there sometime after the frenzy of getting home - quite convenient for when Nanami wanted to throw it loosely over his clammy neck and give you the other end to hold ontoâ
âDonât be afraid to pull if it gets too much.â He puffs out at you in a breezy breath.
âToo much?â You ogle up at his handsome face. You half-jokingly wondered whether the bed - and perhaps you - would be in one piece by the time that Itadori gets home tomorrow. It was going to be a never-ending nightâŚ
âMhm, because this is going to be rough, darling.â
⥠GETO SUGURU - Controversy.
WHO IS ROCKSTAR HEARTTHROB GETO SUGURUâS GIRLFRIEND? HOW CAN WE BE HER?!
GOLD DIGGER?! BASSIST OF 6EYES SHUTS DOWN MALICIOUS RUMORS SURROUNDING BEAU: SAYS THEY ARE âBULLSHITâ.Â
DILF OFF THE MARKET: GETO SUGURU CONFIRMS RELATIONSHIP OF âYEARSâ HE SAYS.Â
Everyone knew of Geto Suguru. Or so it seemed when they were screaming his name and cursing yoursâeveryone wanted to be with him.Â
Or be him.
Who wouldnât? Thick rings. Grey-black hair. Feline smile.
A 6â2, long-haired dreamboat that just-so-happened to be the bassist of the hottest rock band on the charts right now: 6Eyes. Theyâd been discovered quite early on - when theyâd just been out of high school, actually - and had maintained a steady presence in the music scene ever since. Shattering record after record and filling stadium after stadium. By the time youâd gone with some of your college friends to one of their concerts, they were already titans in the industryâand youâd been an instant fan.Â
So imagine your surprise when your friend announced that one of the security had invited your group backstage.Â
That was the night youâd met Geto Suguru - youâd locked eyes and the both of you had just known.
You signed that NDA. You met for dates under disguises. And youâd even met his young adopted daughters- oh, you adored them.
Several months later, when TMZ or some other site had broken the story of Geto secretly dating a fan over ten years younger than him - and that was when scandal ensued. The fandom was rabidâand you understood.
Though Geto, who was rather used to biting headlines and speculation, told you that the whole thing would blow over soon enough- you holed up in your shared penthouse. You turned off your social media notification. You tried not to turn on any celebrity news channel.Â
And you decided: the very least you could do is make a good first impressionâŚ
âEasy nowâŚeasy thereâŚâ Geto holds the recorder in one hand nâ the side of your hips in his other. Youâre maddeningly aware of both the rolling tape and the way his puckered, pretty tip is getting guided to your entranceââDonât strain yourself now. Trust Suguru.â
Just the very first inch of it slipping lusciously between your pussylips and easing inside.
Geto was always so thick, donning numerous veins that creep up the sides of his shaft in zig-zagging patterns. And the sheer girth of him intruding is enough to make you gasp-
âMmm, thatâs good.â The older man murmurs with a smile- long, greying hair forming a curtain around the two of you. âLetâs try again. A little louder this time.â Before he reels his hips back the mere inches heâs squeezed inside, and then ramminâ right back in again - it sounds the loudest squelch! as youâre taking even more of him. âOhhhh, thatâs good. Maybe I can use that as the outro, heh?â
âMaybe just use it for the entire ch-chorus.â You hiss.
âTrying to take my spotlight?â Geto leans down to kiss your swollen lips- or so you think. Heâs pressing his pierced mouth against yours and gnawinâ down on your lower lip.
âScared of- mmpf. Scared of being ousted by the young new talents?â
The edges of his lips curling upwards. âA rock veteran like me? Oh, I donât think I have anything to be scared ofâŚâ
And you can only moan straight into his greedy, greedy maw as youâre jostled back and forth. Getoâs thrusts were oh-so-merciless and puncturing deeeeep into your wombâusing the smooth Prince Albertâs piercing atop his flared tip, heâs torching every hidden spot and nerve-end inside. Mazinâ around your walls and pushing into those little ridges that just made your back arch into him-
His eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles.Â
âHey hey-â The only thing snapping you out of your frenzy is Getoâs sharp tuts. He stalls your restless hips by hooking his fingers into your thighs and throwing them over his broad shoulders- dragging you back into him. âDonât run away, gorgeousâthe studio sessionâs not over yet.â
âI wasnât running away.â You huff.
âSure seemed like it to me.â He grins - that silver piercing of his glinting in the dim lighting. It was the type of Cheshire-cat grin that you knew wouldnât bode well for youâŚand as soon as youâre thinking about it, Geto opens his sensual mouth and spitsâstraight between your lips.
The wad lands softly on your tongue.
And Geto himself reaches a second ringed hand up to close your jaw- to urge you to swallow. âRemember to keep those vocals hydrated, gorgeous. Weâre getting to the good part now.â
You think you could gasp at the audacityâbut whatâs leaving you instead are a series of long, lewd moans. Mewls. Pleas.Â
Heâs drawing them out over and over again by hiking your thighs up his shoulders and pressing you into a mean mating press- lunging his body down into yours. Crushing your pliable self underneath him. Slashing your cervix with loooooong thrusts and his ropey precum puddling sweetly at the back of your pussy.
âYeah- yeah, louder now.â Pushing the recorder even closer. âLouder, girl.â
âI amâoh.â With the way he was fucking you like he almost hated you - though it was rather the opposite - your sentences warble with hiccups and gasps. The lines of his veins were somehow massaging the exact hidden spots that drove you wild.Â
âYou got this.â
âFuck-â
âLouder. Sâjust you and me.â This was exactly what he wanted to hear - his favorite melody was you. âJust a bit of chopping up nâ remixing- this is perfect. Gonna sound so fuckinâ pretty to my bass.â
âFuh-feels so good-â
âMhmmm, I know, gorgeous. Now let the listeners know.âÂ
Making your noise pitch upwards in volume.Â
After a few more strokes, he bores down at you with a thoughtful expression. âNowâŚwhy donâtcha try calling me âSuguâ for the recording?â
âYou want me to be sappy? Okay, rockstar.â Youâre unable to bite your tongue fast enough- though your snapping only makes him even more excited.
Amethyst eyes glistening. âOh, donât be a diva just yet, newbie.â The older musician brings the audio recorder closer to catch your every breath, âTrust me. Iâve been in this industry for a loooooong time- câmon now. Listen to your- heh, vocal coachâsay âSuguâ.â
How you loved riling him up just as much as he did to you. âThen give me something good to moan for, baby.â
âDonât test my patience, superstar.â
Though he does as you say.Â
You should have expected it all the same; the rockstar had mapped out every single good spot inside you. And it was with a near-photographic memory that heâs inching his length backwards- until it was just his lavish red tip lickinâ up your entrance.
Just for a secondâŚjust for twoâŚ
Before slamming into your g-spot so hard nâ suddenly that you almost sob.
Making your cunt mold to the exact texture of his circular piercing- hitting your sensitive area first, before then pushing his smooth tip into it as well. Youâre feeling every bit of himâand youâre making sure that your future audiences can hear it, too.Â
âS-Suguâ!â Youâre thrashing in his arms- and heâs crashing and crashing his hips into you. Gluing the heated, stinging pink skin of his pelvis against yours so ferally that you canât keep up with his pace no matter how fast youâre attempting to buck and bounce.
âOh, that oneâs going in the intro for sure.â He titters.Â
âSâfucking mean.â You whimper as he pushes down on your lower half - purposefully, so that his scruffy happy trail scratches your clit.
âSugu knows best.â So sweetly, he kisses your foreheadâand you wonder whether the loud smacking sound that he leaves behind is more for the recorder or to make you squirm. Shy, much? âNow how about I fuck you pregnant nâ we just announce the baby on the album?â
You pause for a second - before a smile twitches at your lips. âA rockstar baby? You read my mind.â
He reciprocates. âAlways knew you were made fâme.â
The headlines were sure to love this.
⥠CHOSO KAMO - MY UNCLEâS GF?!
Someone had suggested playing two truths and a lie:
You werenât a lot older than Choso- at least in his eyes. That didnât matter to him.
Choso has always wanted you.
Heâs over that now, though.
Chosoâs palms are sweaty âround his lightweight beer as he utters the words; words just a little louder than he intended them to be. Maybe that was the pre-game finally kicking inâbut he couldnât blame it on that, either. Had it been called three truths and a lie, then Choso would have also confessed that he was stone-cold sober as he murmurs two of his deepest secrets to the little circle of drunk college kids.Â
And you.
YouâŚyouâre looking at him like youâd already guessed heâd say that.
Had he really been that obvious? Choso first met you three years ago, during his sophomore year in college, when heâd gone home for the holidaysâand discovered that, this year, Sukuna had been dragged home, too. ExceptâŚhis uncle hadnât come alone this time.
Heâd brought along- you.Â
You were the one to greet him at the doorâand Choso remembers his breath catching in his chest. He remembers feeling his heart bang against his ribcage. He remembers his eyes widening- and his mouth gaping stupidly as you introduced yourself.
So caught up in you, heâd been forced to ask Sukuna for your name again-
âBack off.â His uncle had scoffed, crimson eyes narrowing. Honestly - Ryomen Sukuna was the only person alive that could make cotton candy-pink hair look intimidating. âDonât think I donât see the way yer looking at her.â
Heâd probably stammered something intelligible-
âLook all ya want- if she feels uncomfortable, sheâll thump ya herself. But you canât touch.â Sukuna set his beer bottle down. âMâactually serious about this one.â
And Choso could see why - you were the first person that Sukuna had ever brought into the Itadori family home. You were smart. You were funny. You werenât afraid to put the pink-haired man in his place. You were fucking gorgeousâ
AndâŚyou were Sukunaâs girlfriend. Ten years older than Choso.
Which is why - no matter how badly you made his heart flutter - Choso had vowed to never, never so much as even think to act upon his feelings for you.Â
He just had to grit his teeth and avoid prolonged conversation with you during every family function and gathering you attended with Sukuna- of which the man was making an appearance at every single one now. Almost as though to provoke him even more.Â
And Choso was forced to make peace with the fact that heâd never make peace with his feelings.
That isâŚuntil the two of you broke up.
Heâd heard news about it just a few weeks ago, actually- his father had said something about Sukuna being down in the dumps after youâd broken up with him. Something about not making enough time and drifting apartâChoso hadnât heard the details, heâd been too overwhelmed with the guilty glee thatâd shot through his body and made his heart pound. And then just tonight - oh, how he wished he could kiss whoever was looking down at him (but no, that was saved for youâŚ) - Choso just-so-happened to run into you at the bar he was attending with his friends.
So of course he had to invite you over to their table.
Of course, he had to ignore your protests about being older than them all. None of that shit mattered.Â
Of course, he had to sit right opposite you on the table and divulge his greatest secret - one heâd been keeping to himself for three years now.
Youâre just opening your mouth to respond-
When Chosoâs feeling a harsh smack! on his back and one of his friends crowing in his ear. âAtta boy! You never struck me as the type to like MILFs, man.â
âTechnically Iâm not a MILF yet.â You giggle, fixating your gaze upon him. He almost flinches. âBut youâre rightâŚI never thought youâd be the type to like older women. Iâm ten years older than you, Choso, you know that right?â
Choso mumbles almost too quietly to hear. âTh-that doesnât matter to meâŚâ
âYeah- and youâd probably like that âmaâamâ shit, eh?â His friend guffaws, making the now-bashful Choso - whatever courage he had liquified - duck his head. âOh- sorry I didnât meanââ
âNo, no.â You dismiss the babbling college boy. âIâm not offended at all. In fact, you might be right.â
The table bursts into wolf whistles-
And itâs a blur until youâre ragging with the banter a little more - before discreetly excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. Chosoâs staring up at you - totally not admiring your back like some pathetic lovesick fool - before catching your gaze and your pointed wink.
And then heâs scrambling right after you. As discreetly as a sledgehammer.
.
.
.
Nose buried into the crook of your neck. Mouth gaped wide open- letting out the sweetest crackling moans into your skin.Â
Choso had you pushed against the bathroom stall - clean, donât you worry - with his arms wrapped around your body nâ his cock shoved between your legs. Dragging in and out in a way that was so messyâheâs roverinâ around his globules of cum with that fat tip of his, and then reeling his hips rapidly backwards to spray it down your walls over and over.
Heâd cum as soon as heâd put it inside.
And it wasnât his fault.
Honest!Â
âOh- oh.â And now he was panting desperate breath after breath between thrustsââIâm sorryâŚthe condom broke, baby.â Chosoâs lower lip cutely trembles as he speaks. âCanât help it. And then your pussyâs just so warm and welcoming a-andâŚâ
His breath hitches as he hits that one gluttonous spot that makes you clench.
â-and I just- canât- when youâre squeezing me like that.â
Basically hypnotized, Chosoâs slender fingers dip down between your legs. And so swiftly - that youâre almost surprised at his nimbleness - he pulls out of your wet hole nâ clasps his hand around his barely-wrapped length. The rubber condom had been too tight around him, and itâd shattered into a million piecesâChoso looks up at you through his doe-like lashes, and waits until youâre nodding.
Thatâs when heâs wringing off his broken condom and squeezing out whatever wetness it held. Pushing out the cum back onto your pussy.Â
Making such a mess.Â
Those pure-white droplets that end up splattered back down on your pussy- warm and utterly unwholesome. A sinful cover. He wasnât leaving a single ounce wasted. âSh-shit.â Chosoâs mouth gapes wide open. âItâs all your faultâŚâ
Just the cutest trickle of saliva makes its way down his lips - and youâre reaching upwards to wipe it away. âAwwww. Ever done it raw before, Cho?â
After a brief bout of hesitation, he shakes his head.
âIâve never done it before.â He confesses. Your eyes widen, so he was a virginâŚ
âThen are you sure you can handle it, baby? No need to push yourself if-â
âNo.â He gasps. Sharp. Shot-through. It leaves his lips before he even knows whatâs happening- and then youâre clenching again in a way that makes his brows twist together, and his fingers dig into your waist. âNo, no, no, no-â Eyes frenzied. âWe donât have to stop fâme, baby. We donât even have to slow downââ
Cum-coated; his thickened cock gets sandwiched between your lips then jerked back and forth a few times. By now he was so wet with slick nâ sap that it was making him slip a few times before heâs actually managing to get it in againâand that, too, with your help.Â
You reach down to help grip Chosoâs raging-hot erection, and guide it inside your cunt: an action that leaves the other man blushing down to the roots of his hair. Even his tip throbs just a little harderââTh-thank you, maâam.â
Your brows raise in amusement- and it only hits him then. So he was into the âmaâamâ thing.
âI mean- baby.â He sounds so utterly ruined. âThank you, baby. Promise I can handle it now, mâkay?â
And ohâŚyou canât deny that it was just so fun to tease him. âHmmmâŚI dunno, Choso-â
Chocolate-brown bangs sticking to your skin, heâs lurching his face away to bore straight into your eyes. âI-is it because Iâm younger?â He asks with a hint of desperation, and your lips part as your exâs hot nephew keeps steamrolling away with his pussydrunken mouth. Poor, poor Choso. âBecause I promise I can handle it. I can fuck you- ngh, the best. Promise mâgonna make you feel soooooââ
Chosoâs hips were hammerinâ away at a pace youâd never have suspected- and his hips end up crushed against yours. So close that the scruff of his happy trail scratches your clit raw.
â-g-good.â A single tear track runs down his face - youâre unsure whether heâs talking about you or himself.
âEasy there, tiger.â Youâre pushing back on a stray lock of his hair- darker now with perspiration. The sweet gesture makes Choso huffs.Â
It wasnât doing him any favors, however, as that only made him look even cuter. Youâre craning your neck and planting a chaste peck on his bubblegum-pink lipsâonly for Choso to take control of the kiss and softly bite down on your bottom lip. âBaby-â He rasps. And with just how sweet Choso had always been to you, you couldâve almost forgotten how strong he was- how easily he could bounce you down on his cock- how needy he was for you. Feral. Even though you had him wrapped âround your finger, he was jostling your pussyâs inside like craaaazy. âDonât do that. Donât baby me- I need to be taken- ngh, s-seriously by you, mâkay?â
âOhâŚâ Youâre letting out a heated breath as his tip empties out at your cervix.
And to prolong that sensation; Choso claws his hand up and pushes on the lower part of your stomach. Right beneath where your cunt was expanding and contracting with his cock. âFeel how big I am?â He doesnât stop putting pressure on that spot until youâre nodding - âHow hard? How much Iâm leaking?â Just on cue, a splatter! of precum leaks between your pussylips.
And with something like a broken whimper- Choso snakes his fingers down to push the leakage back up your channel.Â
âO-ohâthis pussyâs so fuckinâ wet. And I can handle it- I can handle it.â He utters more to himself. The more heâs speaking, the harder and longer heâs fucking you, the more ruined he sounds. âMânot as innocent as you think, baby.â
âOh? Do tell.â You smile.
Such a gorgeous, gorgeous smile that he almost hesitates wiping away with a roll of his thumb - stimulating the nerves of your clit. But it makes you break out into the prettiest lewd expression that leaves him rutting his hips even harder, âDo you have any idea how fuh-fucking long Iâve waited for this? How badly Iâve wanted to- ngh, stuff my cock and fuck you like an animal?â As he trails off, he feels his stinging tip start to twitch even more wildly. Dangerously. âFuckââ
âH-how long?â Youâre asking with a smug smirk.
Chosoâs blinking a few times just to let the question register- and finally muttering. âEven when you were dating- him. Ever since I first saw youâŚâ And then he rubs his thumb at an even more steadied pace, matching it to the pushes of his spearing cock. âYou were wearing that red dress of yours- hah, and I could see the strap of your pretty pink bra peaking outâŚthe one with the bows on-â
That makes you gasp.
Which Choso takes advantage of to plaster his lips against yours nâ suckle on your tongue.Â
âAnd then-â Barely managing out through kisses- through stabs of his length- through the pleasure. âAnd then you called me âbabyâ as you were getting ready to leave, and I- ngh, knew you were teasing me for being youngerâfuck, I h-had to run to the bathroom just to jerk off.â
Rovering his mushroomy trip straight into your nerve-ended g-spot; youâre arching into his chest as you feel Choso lose his grip on his sanity.
Already having been so loose.
Heâs babbling as he cums long and hard, and oh-so-deeeeeply into your cunt. Mouth ajar. Body collapsing against yours - caging you even further against the bathroom wall. âBaby- fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-â
âShit, so muchâŚâ Just feeling the ribbons upon ribbons of creamy-white sap he was emptying out. Hot. hypnotizing. Every stroke managed to hit your best spots, and every push meant your pussy was getting overloaded with his cum. The inches of his shaft were curved just perfectly enough that heâs managing to slip aside your walls and use his tip to circle and circle those webs of cum at the very base of your pussy. All over.Â
Soon enough, youâre feeling a layer of it make its way down your inner-thighsâand Choso still didnât seem like he was going to stop anytime soon. You moan, âH-how can you cum this much- mmpf.â
He captures your lips in another sloppy kiss. âMust be the stamina of a younger guy.â
âChoso youâre pussydrunk.â Youâve never heard him sound so drawling and dreamy.
âHmmmmâŚâ Heâs nuzzling the crook of your neck, leaving bite marks that will be entirely too difficult to explain when youâre going back outside. âDid you cum? Promise I can- ngh, make you cum, tooâŚâ Grazing your skin with his lips.
âProve it, then.â
âYes, maâam.â
⥠RYOMEN SUKUNA - 6âŚ9?
âItâs a fuckinâ pandemic, isnât it?â
Youâre looking at your boyfriend over the rim of your book, âExcuse me?â
Sukuna was seated on the armchair in the corner of your bedroom; just having finished a video call with his brother and his nephew. The bright chatter (at least from their end) had died down some minutes ago, and theyâd bid your boyfriend goodnightâwhich was rather the same routine for these biweekly calls. Despite how much the two of you visited, Itadori Yuji always found it too hilarious to put strange filters on his grumpy uncle.
Except, tonightâŚSukuna had sat in the armchair for a few minutes longer.
Usually; he would join you in bed.
Usually; he would grumble - though with a fond smile on his face - about whatever Yuji had been chattering about before.Â
He was practically an honorary father to the boy, and it always made you smile to see.Â
Usually; he wouldnât look up at you as expressionless as if heâd seen a ghost- as if his soul had wafted away. And ask you about someâŚpandemic? Did Yuji put something in his head again?
At the confused expression on your face, Sukuna was heaving out a sighâpushing up those glasses that were totally, most definitely not glasses and merely a tool he uses toâŚseeâŚbetter up his handsome nosebridge. Sukuna was in his late thirties, and silver was beginning to tinge the edges of his pink hair, climbing up his temples. His crowsâ feet creased as he frowned at you, âTheâŚ67 thing. Itâs a pandemic.â
â67 thing?â You gape, your book plopping down on the bed.Â
âYou heard me.â He scoffs. âIâve been thinking itâs mass hysteria- every brat at his kindergarten keeps repeating it. But there seems to be no pattern or cohesion. I thought it was just those damn kindergarteners, but the other day I even caught Jin saying it-â
âS-sixâŚsevenâŚthing.â Youâre repeating - for no reason other than to confirm to yourself that what youâre hearing was real.
Sukuna straightens in his chair, âSee? Now itâs got youââ
âKuna, like the meme?â Youâre shaking your head, âThe one from the song? Oh my god, itâs not mass hysteria-â
He crinkles his nose. âThe hell is aâŚmeme?â
âYou donât know what aââ How has he been Yuji - of all peopleâs - uncle but still had no idea? You continue, âItâs basically an Internet inside joke- itâs been over for a while now but the kids are still obsessed with it.â Finally gripping your book once more, you level him a look. âYou didnât seriously think it was mass hysteria, did you, Kuna?â
Sukuna crosses his bulky arms and looks away. âTchââ
And when he catches you giggling, he barks-
âWhat?!â
âOh- nothing.â And from the smile upon your lips - Sukuna knew that whatever was coming out of your mouth next wasnât about to be anything sincere.Â
Which is why heâs raising himself off the sofa and climbing up the foot of your bed.
You continue, âItâs just youâre getting old, Kuna.â
Joking; nothing ever riled Ryomen Sukuna up more than teasing him for not understanding some new slang or lyric.Â
And with how much he riled you up sometimesâyou had to get back at him somehow, alright?
Soon enough, heâs pinning you down to the bed - with his toned pelvis pressing down on your waist, and his arms creeping upwards to keep your wrists pushed against the mattress. âSay that shit again. I dare you.â
Youâre leaning up as though to kiss him. âOld man.â
.
.
.
Sukunaâs tongue was zig-zagging wiiiiildly between your legs- striking the soft circle of your entrance and then swervinâ as deeply inside as it could go. Deeper. Deeper.
No matter how fervently his mouth was glued to your pussy.Â
No matter how ravenously.
His hips rut off the bed with every single lickâand that fat, throbbing tip of his kept shovelling nâ shovelling at a synchronized pace with his tongue.Â
He had you twisted in sixty-nine with your pussy latched onto his lips.Â
Sukunaâs own cock squeezing out heavy volumes of his salty precum near your lips, then promptly pushinâ them inside with his thrusts- Sukuna was so loooong and rock-hard that he was managing to swab across every spot and directly target the back of your throat. Playing with that dangly in the back.
Youâre moaning as he squeezes two ringed-decorated fingers into your tight cunt. And he grins as he feels the vibrationsââAh ah- sârude to talk with your mouth full.âÂ
Just then, Sukunaâs planting a smack! on your pussy that makes you pull off of his shaft with a loud pop! âH-heyâŚâ
âWhat?â He trundles. Reaching his hips up and guiding his needy tip back into your mouth, âSpeak.â
All because he knew that youâd attempt to nonetheless- and it would end up with the most lewd noises being muffled into this cock. It would end up with his eyes scrunching shut, his head throwing backwards at the shocks of pleasure. âTh-thought I told you to speak? Hah- not babble. Cock got your tongue or something?â
AndâŚit would end up with you being all huffy nâ puffy. âThatâs not even f-fairâŚâ
âHeh- fair?â From where heâd been nipping at your clit, Sukuna pulls off - just to confirm he wasnât hearing things. He wasnât. And though you couldnât see his expression from this angle, you could practically hear the amusement in his tone. âWhat happened to me being old, huh? You surely donât need me to go easy on you.â
âI d-didnât say thatâŚâ Youâre stubbornly answering him - though the constant drives of his fingers were driving you absolutely mad. Sure.Â
âGood.â And then youâre feeling two more consecutive smack-smacks! atop your bloated folds. âBecause, babydollâŚmâbarely even started.â
In no time, Sukuna has you manhandled so that your stomachâs against the soft bed. Your backâs against his thoroughly toned front - so incredibly strong; he was bulkyâwith a layer of thickness to him that made your skin tingle with want - and his erect cock placed between your legs. He takes a few moments to wetten your core up- because no matter how many times youâve taken him, you think youâll never get used to Sukunaâs sheer size.
And before long youâre clawing onto the headboard for dear lifeâas he damn-near molds your tender cunt to his size. Startinâ at the tip-top of his bloated shaft, and then bouncing you down- down- down so many inches greedily.Â
Utterly greedily.Â
âOh- oh, fuuuuuck.â Hands shooting forwards to grab onto more of the mahogany frame.
But Sukuna stops you right then nâ there by wrapping his right arm around your neck; like a wreath, your pants are immediately cut off. And his muscles bulge as they tightenâthe defined ridges of his biceps pushing against your throat - itâs sensual enough to make your mouth waterâŚâAnd whereâd you think youâre going, huh?â
âNowher- mmpf.â Cut off immediately by the tightening of his muscled restraint.Â
âLyingâs not a good look, brat.â Then his second set of fingers snakes down to spank! your stuffed pussy- right atop your bloated folds. The shockwaves that run up your spine are enough to make you buck and whineâand enough to make him drag you back into him. Again and again. âWasnât stuffing this mouth earlier ânough to teach you a little lesson?â
So stubborn. âNot at all-â
Heâs spitting straight between your lips.
And when Sukunaâs fucking you; itâs with harsh, pointed jabs - scouring deeeeep into the bottom of your pussy and leaving the mark of his cockhead. That rounded bruise you feel throb-throb-throbbinâ away every time he repeats the actionâhe fucks you like he hates you.
And heâs only growing faster, harder by the second.
Only tightening his headlock and wrenching your body back into his. Again and again.
Over and over.
Until the globes of your ass were stinging with impact, and youâve memorized the pattern of his happy trail. Itâs practically a part of you.Â
Sukunaâs rugged cock knew aaaaall the right spots. Making your pupils roll around in the whites of your eyes, and leaving you wondering just how he had this much stamina stillâŚâAwww, câmon now.â His low voice trundles in your ears. âGet your act together, girl. You donât wanna be this cockdrunk for someone so old, huh?â
âI-Iââ
âWhat was it you called me?â He growls, sharp canines nipping at the shells of your ears. âHuh? What was it you called me? See, this fossil âere has some troubleâŚremembering-â
Every syllable of his was punctured by a thorough glide across the velvety channel of your pussy- âUmmm, then in that case, I didnât say anything?â You try your luck.
âNice try.â Sukuna grins. âBut mânot that geriatric yet.â
Another spank. âPlease-â
âWhat did you call me?â
âI-I just meant-â
And another. âWhat did you call me?â
âAnâŚold man.â You feel embarrassed just letting the words slip between your lips.
You didnât think he could get even rougher with his movements - his shaft was throbbing, and his pelvis was smack-smack-smacking into you. So hard that youâre propelled forwards by the sheer force; and Sukuna roughly lurches you back with his headlock. âI might be an old man- cheh. I might not know all theseâŚdamn Internet memes- but I do know how to fuck this pussy right.â To prove his point, he scours in-between your pussylips to squeeze your pretty clit. âLook at her- sheâs in love with me.â
âO-ohââ Eyes fluttering shut.Â
âI know how to make her cry with pleasure. I know how to make her- mmmngh, squeeze like she doesnât want me leavinââŚheh.â He continues muttering into your ear as his hips grow more fervent. âI know how to make her feel so goodââ
Your teeth grit. âShit.â And you recognize the twisting sensation at the pit of your stomach. âK-Kuna, Iâm gonna cum-â
âAnd even better.â He chuckles. Gnawing at the top of your ear shell, before moving down to bite the tender crook of your neck - like a wolf catching his prey. âI might not know those fuckinâ- memes like the youngsters do. But I do know how to make this pussy- cum.â
âS-sooo closeâdonât stop.â Youâre bouncing nâ bouncing back into his pistoning hips.Â
Feeling the pleasure well up. Feeling your head start to spin a little as you near your high-Â
Youâre crashing past your tipping point. And Sukuna gives you one, two, three good strokes to fuck you through the bursts of white-hot pleasure running through your veins - before heâs suddenly setting you free of his headlock and letting you drop straight into the plush pillows.Â
Reeling his damn cock out.
You donât know whatâs louder: your disappointed groan or his rough cackle.
âWhat? Wanted this old man to be nice in bed or something?â As soon as youâre looking over your shoulder, youâre met with Sukunaâs priggish grinâhis sharp canines peaking out at the edges of his lower lip.Â
Grumpily, you nod. âYes? What- canât last orâoh.â
Another smack. âThatâs not gonna work on me again- sorry, babydoll.â And before you know it, youâre being flipped right over - getting your legs thrown over his shoulders and pushed into the meanest mating press youâve ever experienced. âBecause mânot letting my bratty girl properly cum until Iâve had a good few rounds to blow off some steam. And mâsure you can keep up- heh, if notâŚâ
âAnd um- how many rounds might that be exactly?â
Sukuna smirks. â67.â
âI hate you.â
⥠INO TAKUMA - âM-mommy!â
AITA for seducing the HOT rich MILF (40âsF) that I (23M) pool-clean for while her ex-husband and kids were away?! In my defense, sheâs reeeeeally hot.
You freeze.
Ino freezes.
The world itself seems to freeze; all except for the ruby-red tip of Ino Takumaâs cock. Shoved deeeep inside your cunt - deep enough to leave a permanent bruise there - and throbbing away wildlyâheâs cumming with that particular title escaping his lips.Â
And then his lower lip wobbles once- twice- before he ducks down and attempts to hide his face in his arms.Â
âHey hey-â Swiftly, you reach down to push his hands away - youâd be disappointed not to see his pretty expressions as you fucked him even further. All pouty lips and doe-like eyesâIno Takuma was so pretty, and perhaps thatâs what drew you to the younger pool cleaner in the first place. âWhatâs the matter, Taku?â
âI-I didnât mean to call you that- honest!â He stammers out.
To which youâre cocking your head with a sly smile- time to try something. âCall me what, Taku?â
âYâknow what it isâŚâ Ino grumbles, huffing. And when you simply continue to stare at him in slight confusion, heâs rockinâ up into your wet cunt as he speaks- âThe way I c-called youâmommy- oh.â Just as youâd predicted, his velvety length jolts at the mere utterance of that title. Excitedly spurting out a few creamy-white wads of cum that glue to your cervix.
So messy. He was so fucking messy.
How ironic, considering that his entire job was to clean your pool.
Youâd been introduced to Ino through one of your friends - those networks of older rich women with far too much time and money on their hands. Juggling kids and businesses. And youâd just been complaining to them over a gold-flaked brunch that your last pool cleaner had moved towns, and with your kids now entering middle school, the pool was left without use and starting to gather leaves.Â
Thatâs when theyâd shared Inoâs number with youâa reliable pool cleaner. Just graduated college, and so easy on the eyes if they did say so themselvesâŚ
Youâd huffed that youâd tell their husbands- meanwhile you on the other hand had just recently gotten divorced. One too many nights of your husband coming home with a cloud of mysterious perfume around him, or a lipstick stain on his collar - at least youâd gotten a good chunk of everything in the divorce!
But that was all in the past- maybe love just wasnât for you.
You had your kids. You had your gorgeous hillside mansion. You had your hobbies and friends- men just werenâtâŚforâŚ
Fuck, thatâs when heâd showed up at your door.Â
Bright and early. Beaming with all his gorgeous pearly whites; the sweetest smile on such a killer body. Ino showed up in nothing but an unbuttoned flowery shirt and swim trunksâtheir lightning-yellow color perfectly complemented his slightly-tanned skin and messy brown hair. Slightly tawny from the Sun.
âEr, I hope you donât mind.â Ino had said, a sheepish smile on his face. âI thought Iâd get changed for the job before I got here.â
Mind? Mind?!
In simply what world would you mindâit took every speck of reason and rationality in you to dart your eyes away from the plane of his chest, his washboard abs. Sultry shoulders. Slender waist. There was a scattered happy trail that ran between his six-pack and- beneath his swimming trunks.Â
Fuck.Â
Instead, you focused on the tight necklace of shells around Inoâs throat. âC-come in.â
On the first day, you stayed inside - only peeking out occasionally from your bedroom window - as Ino cleaned your pool. You tipped him heavily.
On the second day, heâd told you that it was completely okay with him even if you used the pool whilst he was cleaningâand you took that as your sign. You donned a bikini you hadnât gotten the chance to use in years, and sprawled yourself out on the nearest sun bed - making occasional conversation with him almost as an excuse to ogle him.
And if you werenât mistaken, youâd say that he ogled you too.Â
But you really did discover that Ino was a sweetheart- and made you giggle like a schoolgirl, too. How embarrassing you felt admitting this!
And a part of you was almost relieved when your kids arrived home from school - escorted by their driver - so you could resume your mundane lavishness. But a bigger part of you was already yearning for when youâd see him againâŚ
And so continued the third day.
And the fourth day.
And so on to the fifth and the sixth.
Before you knew it, Ino had been employed as your pool-cleaner for at least a monthâand heâd quickly grown to become someone you and your kids were quite fond of. Even your driver had caught on, and shot you a knowing smile every time you asked him to escort Ino back to his downtown apartment. Perhaps feeling jealous of such an occurrence, your ex-husband had showed up with tickets to an amusement park - already having planned a day trip for your kids.
Theyâd, of course, begged to go. And so youâd agreed.
Leaving nobody inside this vast mansion: but you, Ino, and the growing tension between you two.Â
The only thing was, right before he left, your ex-husband had the audacity to stop Ino and snipe at him. Low and threatening. âTouch her and Iâll make you very, very sorry.â
So, of course youâd fucked Ino as soon as they were out of the house.Â
Squeezing your robe-covered thighs âround his waistâjust so perfectly curved to meet your embrace. âW-we really shouldnât beâŚI mean- Iâm old enough to be your-â
âWorks just fine for me, pretty.â Heâd cut you off. Pulling on the gauzy material of your robe to let your tits spill out- fuck, he was in heaven.
Enough so that itâd taken just putting it in for Ino to cover your luscious inside in his sap. To watch the satiny liquid seep between your pussylips and leave his pelvis gleaming with a sheen. To wrench out the most pathetic calls of your nameâand one particular title that made him want to get swallowed up by the Earth.
Again and again.
Inoâs cock was longer than youâd expected - and all this time, youâd been wondering where the hell heâd been hiding all that in his swimming trunks. Just reaching over six pretty inches. Just smooooth and leaned ever-so-slightly towards the left. Itâs making his bulbous tip drag across every sweet spot inside you, and your thighs quiver as you take him.
Every single inch. Youâre arching your back and mustering up your strength to grind your hips forwards and back, forwards and back.
Milking himâ
âCâmon, baby.â Youâre cooing down at the handsome man. He blinks his teary eyes open- and you just canât help but lean down nâ kiss them away from his cheeks. âCall me âmommyâ again?â
âC-canâtâŚâ Ino blushes down to the roots of his chocolate-brown hair. âItâs embarrassing-â
âBut it gets me so wet, Taku.â You poutâand his eyes widen at your admission. You watch as his pupils shift down- as if making sure. âPleeeeeeeease? Just once?â
And in response, you smush your thighs harder around him. Youâre sure you leave red, red welts on his skin - but that wasnât registering in his mind right now. Nothing was. Nothing but the smooch of your soft velvety insides embracing his cock, and the sensation of cum sploshinâ around inside you. âFineâŚbut only because I wanna impress youâŚâ His breath hitches. â-mommy.â
You shiver. âOh, I liked thatââ
And he does, too, because your cuntâs just suctioning on his length as if you were trying to take his soul. His fucking soul.Â
The thing is- Ino would have gladly given it to you at this moment.
âIt feels good- it f-feels s-sooooo good.â Tears begin to crinkle at the corners of his eyes, and Inoâs fingers dig into the sides of your hips as he bucks upwards. âFuck, it should be illegal for it to feel this good- mommy.â And he canât fucking help itâit echoes before he can stop himself.Â
âTaku, I think you like saying that more than me.â With a soft chuckle, your dominant hand ends up wrapped around his throat. âCâmon now- a little faster for mommy.â
âSh-shutângh.â No matter how hard he attempts to regain control- it doesnât work. He pushes upwards into your soft, syrupy cervix as though marking it.
After a few desperate thrusts, he asks you- âIs this okay?â
âHmmmmâŚâ You pretend to think - and the ruined expression on his face is oh-so-completely worth it. âHow about a biiiiit faster?â
His jaw drops- but he doesnât complain. Heâs grabbing onto either side of your thighs now, and plunging straight into your deepest depthsâmultiple thwacks! every second, it feels like. âH-how about-â
âJust a little faster.â
Doubting himself. âIs that even possible-â
âBut youâd do it for- heh, me wonât you? Youâd do it to make me feel good?â
Nodding and nodding. âYes, mommy. A-anything for you mommyââ Broken moans and pleas cycle at the back of Inoâs throat, and heâs planted his feet flat on the mattress to push himself up ravenously. âMâjust here for you to use me.â
Your eyes widen - your smile grows.
âJust use me-â He gasps, face reddening as he follows your instructions. âFucking use me like a toy. Use me- fuh-fuuuckââ
âA liiiiiittle bitââ Your head tips backwards as heâs entering the perfect pace - rapid enough to leave your thoughts stupidly muddled, but still steady enough that youâre feeling every single ridge, vein, and curve. Giving your walls such a good massageââTh-thatâs perfect, Taku.â You squeeze his pretty neck tighter, and youâre hearing him let out a little hiccup of a sob. âMommyâs so proud of you.â
Oh, and you thought that he was ruined enough already?
You thought that he was reaching his limits?
Because after that particular sentence - oh, youâre evil for that - Ino digs his digits into the flesh of your thighs and rams deep into your womb. His pistoning cock resting there for a brief few split-seconds as he sputtersââL-let me make you a mommy all over again.â
Your breath catches. âDo you even know what youâre asking for, Taku-â
âFucking yes.â His glazed tip twitches dangerously in a way that told you he was oh-so-close to cumming again. Again. âYes, please- fuuuuck, let me get you pregnant. Let me make you a mommy for the third time. I-I promise Iâll be the best- ngh, dad and nothing like that asshole. Iâll take care of you and cherish you and-â
You kiss him to shut him up.
âBut of course, baby.â You hum. âBut you have to be quick before my ex-husband finds out.â
Heâs never cum harder in his life.Â
Verdict: NTA (drop the fucking tutorial, OP).
⥠GOJO SATORU - Sugar, sugarâŚ
Gojo Satoru wasnât technically a DILF - but he was a sugar daddy.
And they called you a gold digger.
Gojo called you business-savvy.
It was a rather unique situation: the relationship between the two of you had started out as a regular sugar daddy-sugar baby relation. You met Gojo Satoru at some stuffy olâ business function when you were the arm candy of some other businessmanâone whoâd been ignoring you in favor of one of his business associates the entire night, of course.
Whatever.
Youâd gotten used to this routine by now - and so youâd drifted by the grazing table with microscopic clean cuts and cheeses you couldnât even pronounce.Â
And that was exactly how your knight-in-shining-suit had sidled up next to you.
With two champagne glasses in-hand and a flirtatious smile upon his face, he handed you one of the drinks. Then you gestured at the businessmen youâd arrived with- and Gojo had the audacity to roll his eyes and pretend to retch. That was when you knew youâd get along.
Tall. Toned. With twinkling blue eyesâand just the slightest bit of silver creeping into his already-white hair. Gojo Satoru was as handsome as he was richâand considering that both aspects occupied a fair share of the conversations tonight, you were rather flattered to be in his presence. Though the CEO of Gojo Corporations didnât waste time: âYâknow, if I was lucky enough to arrive with an angel- Iâd never leave her sight. Why waste time with some geezers over such a gorgeous gal?â
You smiled.
And you left that night with Gojo instead.
From the boxes of jewelries and flights around the world - to the tabloids and online speculation that couldnât get enough of you.Â
CEO of Gojo Corporations finally finds love?!
Gold digger or gold-hearted: All we know about Gojo Satoruâs girlfriend!
Is it sugar baby season? The newest IT Girlâs best red-carpet looks so farâ
But of course, there was always some truth to those headlines. Perhaps.Â
You were Gojo Satoruâs sugar baby. You were in a transactional relationship- though he never laid a hand on you. Not unless you initiated it.
SoâŚwhat was it really?
You got your answer a few months into this limbo of lustâthe two of you finally started dating.Â
And to be quite honest; it wasnât that big of a change at first. The two of you went out for romantic dinners either way. The two of you dodged paparazzi and rumors every step. The two of you bantered and teased as much as you did anyways- the only change would be that Gojo Satoru finally let loose when he fucked you.
Though, at times, he still did like to let his sugar daddy side peek throughâŚ
âA-awwww- just look at you.â Gojoâs hands were rubbinâ furiously down his length - from those curls of white cozily decorating his base, up to that poor, pretty tip that just wouldnât stop cumming. Up and down. Up and down.Â
Salty-sweet heaps of cum were pouring out of his cockhead and splashing down your front- your stomach, your inner thighs, your cunt. He watches as it creates a little waterfall effectâand Gojo reaches down to pat your stuffed pussy with his long fingers. âNo matter what pretty trinkets nâ expensive lingerie you wear- you always look the prettiest covered in my cum, sweetheart.â
âS-Satoruââ Youâre squirming underneath him. Hands clasping the silken sheets.
Your fingers were decked-out in diamond rings. Your lacy lingerie was tugged nâ pulled aside for access.Â
Around you were bracelets upon necklaces upon every piece of jewelry that your heart could desire - Gojo had taken it upon himself to empty out Tokyoâs luxury stores earlier. All for you, of course.
All to drown you inâwhilst he attempted to do the same with his fucking cum-
âI fuckinâ loooooove it when it covers you like this.â He hisses- nose scrunches in a feral way as he glides his fingers across those splatters. Those smears. That ruinous mess. His favorite was to see you like this: pull out game, who? You often scoffed whenever Gojo claimed that his was unmatched. âLove the way it looks like your pretty pussy canât keep it in-â Just another light tap on your cunt. âLove the way it looks so pretty on your skin like thisâmmm, youâve got me obsessed, girl.â
Your thighs were shaky- but not shaky enough to stop you from attempting to pull him even closer. Theyâre wrapping around his waist, and careening him close ânough to kiss your puffy pussylips with his throbbing tip. His length doesnât stop sensitively twitching for a single secondââO-ohâŚgreedy for more, my girl?âÂ
âMore.â Just barely managing to wrangle out. âW-want some moreââ
âFuuuuck.â He whispers underneath his breath - something so ragged in his tone. That blushinâ tip of his was twitching in excitement already, and Gojo probably doesnât even realize before heâs slotted his still-erect length between your legs and his rockinâ away at a slow pace. âYou seriously want more?â
Your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation of him intruding your hole- seemingly only growing bigger every time he feels you clenchinâ around nothing. So needy.Â
âYes-â Youâre nodding furiously. Perhaps had this been any other time, then youâd have been almost embarrassed at your unabashed eagerness. âB-but this time, I want it inside, Toru.â
âInside?â Gojoâs pale brows fly to his hairline. âBut youâre already stuffed so full, my sweetheart.â
And then heâs smearing his fingertips between your bloated folds- teasinâ them apart and taking a good look at your entrance. He canât help himself - heâs spitting straight into that puckered holeâand watching at the glossy wad slips down your crevice and only adds to the mess heâs made previously. Youâre shivering as he runs his nimble digits up nâ down your slit and presses on your clit.
âYes, butââ You keen, arching into his firm core. âBut you never really came inside, Toru.â
âOhâŚâ Those glossed lips of his part.
And youâre taking the opportunity to throw your arms weakly around him- âAnd I want it inside this time.â Though Gojo loved teasing you with his creamy-white sapâmaking you beg for it at times, heâs never properly cum inside.
He always thought itâd be too soon: you were younger, after all. And a pregnancy at this point might derail your plans-
âBut I want it.â Had he been babbling this entire time? The sheer determination in your eyes sends a jolt of dark-black need through him - far more primal than he ever thought possible. Far more. Gojoâs blue peripherals glaze over as he clasps his cock even tighter, as though afraid heâs so hard now that itâd fucking fall off.
âShouldnât fall off now.â He whispers breathily.
âWhat?â
âNothing.â Gojo quickly amends. Before he uses the pointed tip of his shaft to web up those dollops of cum heâd spurted âround your thighs and foldsâit creates a gloss of white that he thinks would suit the insides of your pussy so well (did he mention that he was the one to pick out your lingerie colors?) âRound and âround.
It devises the most sinful sounds between your legs. And your breath catches in your throat: âA-are you gonna cum inside or not, Toru? Hurry-â
âSo impatient.â Heâs tutting. Voice low and husky. âI hope you know that if I fuck my cum insideâthen mâgonna fuck you pregnant, sweetheart.â
Goosebumps scatter across your skin.
But Gojo doesnât let you squirm, he doesnât let you move about restlessly- heâs pinning you down with his hips and rumbling lowly in your ear. âMâgonna make sure it takes.â A rough sliiiiiide of his length sandwiched between your cushy pussylips - drooling for him by now. âMâgonna stuff you so full that you wonât even be able to walkââ Another rough slide. A thrust. âMâgonna give you the most precious gift of all - in my eyes.â
âP-pleaseâ!â
As youâre letting your head tip backwards, Gojo reaches his hand up to and clasps your gorgeous, gorgeous face. Smushing your cheeks together in a way that was so pathetic - âAre you okay with that, pretty baby?â
Youâve never heard him sound so serious.
And youâve never yowled an affirmation faster in your entire lifeâ
In the next few seconds, Gojoâs stuffed rawly all the way to the hilt and is messinâ up your insides with determined strokes. Once. Twice. Thrice- he punctures through your clingy walls and hits all the best spots - memorizing your g-spot and running his flared tip along it.Â
And honestly, it doesnât take much - the two of you were already so overstimulated already - before youâre feeling the wave of euphoria start to build up in your stomach already. Almost as lewd of a sensation as the clear twitchinâ mess that Gojo and his length had turned intoâbabbling, gasping, sobbing as he runs his fat cock raw on your velvety walls. Fucking raw.
You were going to make him an actual DILF.
âY-youâre gonna get it nowâŚâ Itâs the last thing heâs getting out before a flood of white sap enters your tight cunt. Getting absolutely drenched from the inside. âWhen have I ever forgone you of a gift, my girl?â
âNeverââ Youâre keening out. Rushes of pleasure start up between your legs- before crackling through your veins and ultimately ending up at your brain.
Hazy and startling at the feeling of him fucking you through both your highs. Thrust after thrust. Gush after gush of both pleasure nâ his milky-white cum.Â
Underneath the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm; you can feel his spurts of cum start to trickle between your legs. It was just as warm as your skin was getting, and creating a little puddle beneath you that Gojo takes one looks at and gasps-Â
âNow now, are you wasting your gift, sweetheartâ?â He cocks his head, genuinely ruined.Â
âN-no?â
âOr do I just have to- heh, regift it to you again?â
âShut up.â
⥠HIGURUMA HIROMI - Ms. Babysitter.
âWe have to be quiet, angel- fuck. Fuck.â Higurumaâs voice sounded raggedâ
Ruined. Nothing but carnal desire creeping up into the edges of his tone; giving you a jolt, considering that youâve known the older man to be nothing but utterly calm and collected.
He was one of the best parents that you babysat for.Â
One of your college friends had recommended you for the job - the hot lawyer in your neighborhood needed someone to look after his young daughter whilst he worked long nights? You were agreeing before youâd even heard the hours, you canât denyâand despite how hasty of a decision it had been, you thoroughly enjoyed working under Higuruma Hiromi.
And being under Higuruma HiromiâŚthough that didnât come until a few weeks after youâd been employed.Â
The first night, youâd barely seen him. Dark hair. Dark circles.
The main thing you remember was that he looked exhaustedâand some strange part of you was actually enticed by the hard-working man. Especially when he was such a gentlemanâŚ
Fuck, that suit fit him so well.
He addressed you oh-so-respectfully; unlike some parents who were tempted to treat you like a live-in server. Hands behind his back. Jet-black eyes to himself as he gave you a two-minute tour around the house- youâd been thoroughly enjoying yourself admiring his broad shoulders in that suit, when a sudden call from the office meant your tour had to be paused.Â
Higuruma had pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. Heâd sighed.
And he was out that door before you could even confirm bedtime- which hadnât been too much of a problem, to be honest. His daughter was extremely well-behaved and didnât hesitate to let you know.Â
She also didnât hesitate to let you know that her dad was very, very single.
You let her stay up just a liiittle past her bedtime.Â
And then the second night, heâd apologized for his hastiness - telling you that a recent case had them fighting to prepare before the court deadline, and thereâd just been so many fucking tax audits to go through.
You nodded like you understood. But what really intrigued you was when heâd told you that his daughter had just loved having you over. Though a part of you was simply satisfied that you did your job well (buttered popcorn and K-pop Demon Hunters wins again!), you canât deny that it made your heartâŚflutter hearing it from the older man like this.Â
It made you realize that you had a little crush.
So of course, you made him a regular.
And the pay was so good that you were able to weed out your other clients to focus predominantly on Higuruma and his bizarre babysitting schedule (some nights he worked until 3AMâŚ)âyou guessed the overtime was paying off.Â
Though your interactions were limited mostly to the brief conversations before and after- though you never did cross your boundaries. That all came to a head when one night - about a month or two into your babysitting gig - Higuruma suddenly perked up after a late night at the office. It was 3:31AM when he quietly let himself inside the house, sighing as he finally tugged off his tie.
It was 3:32AM by the time you got up off the couch and offered him some cookies youâd made with his daughter in the morning.
3:40AM when he suddenly remembered- and suggested resuming that house tour you didnât get to finish. And though youâd been a bit hesitantâfor nothing other than the fact that you might wake his sleeping daughter up, he promised that the two of you would be quiet.
Then, finally, 3:47AM when he was telling you to be quiet in bed-
âWouldnât wanna wake her up, hm?â The prominent outline of his nose runs down the side of your throat - and it makes you shiver. Fuck, you always have thought that that was one of the most handsome parts of him.Â
A soft moan strangles in your throat as he slots his thickened tip between your foldsâfeeling it like this, your mindâs reeling with the question of how the fuck heâs going to fit like this.
Higuruma always did strike you as the type of man to be big; but this was enough to make your mouth water and your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull. From here, you were feeling at least seven or eight inches of his erection, furiously hot, wrapped in throbbing red veins and having the most luscious precum dripping out from top. He seemed hard enough to fucking ruin you - just how you wanted it.Â
And as if reading your mind, Higuruma runs his slippery wet tip down your pussylips, and trundles in his low tone. âAre you sure you want to do it? We donât have to rush into anything if you donât want-â
âI do.â Cutting him off mid-sentence.
Although by the way that Higurumaâs stern lips were quirking up ever-so-slightlyâyouâre taking it to mean that he didnât exactly mind. He keeps one hand underneath your ass, so that you can be pushed up into his roverinâ hips, and his other one caresses your cheek softly. âHm, is that soâŚ? Then I guess what I meant to say isâŚcan you take every single inch, sugar?â
You gulp. Your eyes dart down nervously to his twitchinâ, throbbing length. âYes.â
And youâve never been more sure of anything.
Higuruma merely horses out - âThen buckle up, angel.â
Before you know it, his round, ruddied tip is probinâ inside. Sifting your gluey walls from side-to-side before spreading you up so maddeningly open.
He spots your sweet areas with a few dollops of pre- as soon as Higuruma found himself inside you, he was fighting back whimpers of pleasure. The older manâs achinâ cock doing all the talking for him as he shovels his way inâ
âSh-shit.â Your eyes sprint to the back of your head as you take him. âShit, youâre so big-â
The way youâre moving your hips around as though confused whether to buck right down or make him ease up- itâs just so cute. And he plants a reassuring hand on the side of your waist, âEasy now.â Higuruma hushes out, âEeeeeeasy, angel. You can take it for me.â
âRight thereââ You keen out as his flared tip rubs along your g-spot.
And although he knows what you meant, that doesnât stop Higuruma from throwing you a ravishing smirk. Letting his second hand run down your core- âNo, sugar. Right here.â He pushes down right where he knew your womb would be - that soft pressure making your walls clench around him wildly, until you could feel every throb of his engorged tip even in your brain. âAnd youâre gonna take it fâme, right?âÂ
Jostling you hard with every thrustâso that youâre nodding away. Almost pathetically.Â
âMhmâŚexactly what I thought.â He coos - so lovingly thrusting away between your quiverinâ legs. Higurumaâs skin slap-slap-slaps against yours at a steady pace, âJust a few more inches nowâkeep quiet, please.â
âIâm t-trying.â Gnawing down on your lower lip. âHow many more?â
âAh, just one inchâŚtwoâŚâ And after a prolonged thrust- so deep that you swear youâre feeling it in your throat, Higuruma cracks a grin. âMaybe more.â
Five more?
Five more?
And you were already on the verge of being fucked absolutely stupid? Youâre letting a groan escape youâlewd and louder than you intended- and before the realization hits you, Higuruma himself swiftly reaches over to where his work tie had been dangling off the side of the bed. Bunching it up, shoving it between those pretty lips - he couldnât have anyone waking up now, could he?
And thatâs exactly what heâs telling you: âCâmon, angelâŚâ Shoves getting deeper and longer. Rougher- as he rams his thickened inches past where you donât think anyoneâs ever gone before. And throughout it all, the older man was so steady with youââCâmon- câmon. You can do thisâfuuuuuck, you can do this. This pussyâs gonna take all of me, right?â
Nodding and nodding.
âYeah? Because youâre my goooood girl, right? Taking me so well.â He continues rasping - tone pitching higher and higher as he goes on. âMy good- fucking- girlââ
âO-oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-â
âYouâre my goooooood fucking girl, huh?â The stubs of his five oâ clock shadow rub up against your skin. The deeper he thrusts, the hotter his body seems to become on top of yours. More and more. âCan you count how many inches mâputting in you?â
Tears flow down your eyes, âY-yes- mmpf.â Somehow managing past the tie. âAh- four? Five. Six.â
Higurumaâs eyes widen.
âSevenââ Your voice seems like itâs on the verge of cracking. âEight.â
Itâs just too adorable how youâre sweetly attempting to respond to him even with the gag in. And Higuruma canât help himself as he leans in and kisses you through the tie.
Itâs hot and itâs messy.
And it ends up with him smiling against your stuffed lips, âFinally bottomed-out.â
Hazily, youâre blinking a few times. It clears your vision enough for you to jerk your head down and see that it was indeed true, Higuruma had stuffed himself inside your pussy until his thick base was kissinâ your pussylips. Just the most innocent peck.
âAnd nowâŚâ ExceptâŚfuck, except he was reeling right back again. â-for the fun part.â
Right back until that rounded tip stretched your hole out.
Right back inside-
âMakes me wanna put a baby in you- I swear. Taking me like this.âÂ
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cw: explicit smut, creampie, your best friend toji canât help but suck on your tits when theyâre in his face.
Youâre standing between his knees on the sagging couch, legs bracketing his spread thighs, trying to salvage something resembling âprofessionalâ out of his perpetually fucked-up hair.
Heâs got an important meeting in like forty-five minutesâsome back-alley deal with a couple ex-sorcerers who apparently pay stupid money for stupid jobs. âGood payout,â heâd grunted when he asked you to fix him up. Thatâs Toji code for âdonât ask questions and donât make me late.â
Youâre working fast. One hand cups the back of his head, steadying him; the other rakes through the damp black strands with a little water from a spray bottle and a pea-sized dollop of the cheap gel you keep in your bathroom drawer. His hairâs thick, stubborn, always falling into that lazy, dangerous flop over his forehead no matter what you do.
Your tank top is way too short and at least one size too smallârides up with every reach. You lean in closer to get the front right, elbows brushing his shoulders. The fabric stretches tight across your chest. One wrong shift andâPop!
Your left tit slips free entirely, nipple already half-hard from the cool air and the friction of cotton all morning. Itâs right thereâswaying an inch from his nose. Toji goes still. You donât notice at first. Too focused on sculpting that one rogue piece that refuses to behave. Then you feel it: warm breath ghosting over sensitive skin. Thenâ
His mouth closes around your nipple in one smooth, shameless motion. A wet, sucking pull. Tongue circling around your sensitive nipple. Your whole body locks up and you look down. âTojiââ he doesnât stop, sucking harder as his cheeks hollow, as he laps at your breast. His eyes are half lidded, heâs clearly enjoying himself.
âToji, what the fuââ Your nippleâs swollen, glistening, darker than the rest of you now, and the cool air after his mouth feels like a slap.
âThey were right there,â he says again, rough hands running up your legs. His thumb brushes the crease where thigh meets ass. âSwinginâ in my face while youâre playinâ hairdresser. Whatâd you expect?â
Youâre still standing between his spread thighs, his knees bracketing your legs, that stupid too-small tank top shoved up under your tits now from all the movement. You can see the thick outline of his cock straining against his sweats. âI was trying to make you look presentable for your shady little meeting,â you manage, trying for annoyed but landing somewhere closer to breathless. âNot⌠this.â
He smirks, green eyes flicking up to meet yours. âYeah?â He leans forward again, just enough to drag the flat of his tongue over the wet peak he just abandoned. You twitch, thighs squeezing together on instinct. âYouâre doinâ a shit job of actinâ mad about it, princess.â
His free hand comes up, cups the underside of the breast he hasnât touched yet, thumb brushing over the neglected nipple until it pebbles tight. Then heâs guiding it slowly toward his mouth too, giving you every second to pull away. But you donât.
Instead your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan. The sound vibrates through you again and you feel yourself get wetter, slick gathering at the tops of your thighs. âToji,â you whisper, half plea now. âYouâve got that meeting inââ
âFuck the meeting,â he mutters, voice muffled as he latches onto the second nipple, sucking harder this time. His hand on your ass finally slides higher, fingers dipping under the hem of your shorts, finding damp cotton and pressing against your clit.
You choke on a moan, knees buckling. He steadies you, âBeen watchinâ these tits spill out every damn time you lean over for months,â he growls against your skin, switching back to the first nipple like he canât decide which one he likes better. âYou think I donât notice? Think Iâm not hard as fuck every time you âaccidentallyâ flash me?â
He nips and your hips jerk forward against his hand.âSay stop,â he rasps, finally pulling back far enough to look up at you. Lips shiny, pupils blown. âSay it and Iâll stop. Weâll fix my hair, Iâll go make my sketchy money, and weâll pretend this never happened.â
His fingers flex against your soaked pantiesââOrâŚâ He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting you there. âYou can keep standinâ there lettinâ me suck on you till youâre drippinâ down my wrist. Your call, baby.â
His free hand grips your ass, kneading, spreading you open a little as his fingers dip lowerâtwo sliding through your folds, coating themselves before pushing inside slow. You clench around him instantly moaning, âTojiâoh godââ
âYeah, thatâs it,â he growls. You canât even form wordsâjust a needy whine as he switches breasts again, sucking the other one deep while his thumb rubs messy circles over your clit.
When you finally slump forward, forehead dropping to the top of his head, he eases his fingers out slow, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean with a satisfied hum. âGood girl,â he rasps, pulling them free with a soft pop. âNow turn around.â
Before you can even process it, his big hands are on your hips, spinning you so your back is to him. He yanks your shorts and panties the rest of the way down in one rough tug, letting them tangle around your ankles. Then heâs hauling you back, sitting you down hard on his lap so your bare ass lands right on the fat, throbbing length of him still trapped in his sweats.
You grind back on instinct, slick pussy lips sliding along the thick ridge of his cock through the thin barrier. He shifts under youâhips lifting just a fractionâand you feel the slow drag of fabric as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband and his cock flaps free. The fat head pops past your tight hole and into your wet cunt. âYouâre such a perv,â you gasp, âAll those times I âaccidentallyâ flashed you in the kitchen? Under the car hood when I was helpinâ with your junker? You were just sittinâ there gettinâ boners, huh?â
âDamn right.â He nibbles at you ear as he bounces you. âThat time at the beach? Bikini top slippinâ while you bent over for the cooler? Nearly nutted in my trunks right there in front of everybody.â He punctuates it with a sharp slap to your inner thigh, âAnd donât get me started on laundry day. Your shitty dryer always eatinâ your brasâtits bouncinâ free every time you reach for the high shelf. Been jerkinâ off to that for weeks, princess.â
âFuckâyou never said shit.â Youâre panting now, grinding faster, the wet schlick of your pussy against his cock. âWhy would I? You kept doinâ it.â He nips your shoulder, free hand coming up to maul your breast againâpinching the nipple heâd sucked raw earlier until you yelp.
You glance down between your bodies just in time to see itâhis cock glistening, veins bulging, coated in your cream every time you lift up. The sight makes you clench hard; he curses under his breath, hips snapping up harder in retaliation. âShitâdo that again.â
You doâsqueezing down on every upstroke, fluttering around the head when heâs almost out, youâre arching back against his chest, head thrown on his shoulder. âGonna cum already?â he taunts, âBarely started and youâre shakinâ hard as hell.â
âShutâshut upââ you gasp, but youâre too close, too full, too overwhelmed by his cock. âJustâdonât stopâfuck, Tojiââ your whole body locks up, pussy spasming violently around him as you scream his name. His punishing thrusts, drawing it out until youâre whimpering, oversensitive and trembling.
âFuckâgood girlâcumminâ so hard on meââ His rhythm stutters as hot pulses fill your pussy, you can feel it leaking down your thighs, warm and sticky, mixing with your own mess.
Eventually he huffs a laugh, voice hoarse. âHairâs completely fucked now.â You snort weakly, âYour meetingâŚâ
âFuck the meeting.â He nuzzles into your neck, one hand sliding up to cup your breast again, thumb circling the swollen nipple. âGot better things to do. Like gettinâ you to the bedroom so I can eat this pussy properly. Wanna taste what we just made.â
a/n: ima whore for a good titty suck like fuckkkkk
Ë. ŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛ŕ§â¤ď¸ŕ¨ ŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛.Ë mdni. after getting stuck on the receiving end of yet another one of their stupid jokes, you decide to get back at the morons you have the misfortune of calling best friends. who would have thought revenge is a dish best served...by having gojo and geto bitch and moan over which one of them you like better?
"i hate them."
"what did they do this time?" shoko snickered, perching an lit cigarette between her teeth as you scowled at the sky.
"they totally ruined up any chance i had with sukuna," you complained, jaw tense as you replayed last night's disaster of a party.
all you wanted was to have sloppy sex with their hot friend. it wasn't like you were looking for anything serious. just having a few drinks and hooking up with a a man who definitely knew how to make you cum.
"i think they might've done you a favor," she shrugged, and you threw her an irritated glare.
"they told everyone we were in a polyamorous relationship," you added, already grinding your molars thinking back to the way satoru had draped his arm over your shoulders while suguru's fingers possessively dug into your hips all because they saw you speaking to him. "and that i get the cuck chair."
"that's ridiculous," she muttered, blowing out a puff of smoke while she tried to hide her hint of a smile. "we all know it would be satoru."
apparently not.
because two seconds later, sukuna had walked away, and you had gone home last night un-laid.
but how the hell were you supposed to do anything to dumb and dumber? what could you do that would wipe those stupid smirks off of their faces?
they were so self-absorbed, they-
"sho," you hummed her name in a completely new tone, a little scheme of your own starting to take shape as you smiled. "i have an idea."
"i bet it's a bad one."
she might've been right.
but it didn't stop her from taking part in your plan an hour later, sitting in front of you in your dorm as you both listened for the approaching footsteps.
any minute, the two dickheads from the night before would be dropping in just in time to catch a conversation they wouldn't know was pre-planned.
you heard them first, the familiar low hum of suguru's laugh, satoru's voice ringing out.
action.
"promise you won't judge me, sho," you whined, just loud enough that they would certainly be able to hear but not so much they'd stop to think anything of it.
"you already know i will," she recited her line, scrolling on her phone while you did your best to continue without cracking a smile.
"i think i do have feelings for him."
all the sounds had stopped outside.
abrupt silence in the place of footsteps and chatter.
"is this a joke?" she deadpanned, much like you imagined she would if you ever did wake up one day and confess you were in love with idiot number one or two.
"no," you defensively huffed back, biting back a giggle as you heard a tiny creak, like someone was putting pressure on the door to eavesdrop. "last night, when he was acting like we were together, and y'know, touching me, it just-"
"don't be gross," shoko grimaced, interrupting right on time before you could give away any identifying details.
"should i tell him?" you innocently asked, really trying to sell it.
"definitely not," shoko shook her head, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth a stifle a yawn. "you already know you're better off as friends."
"yeah, you're right," you hummed, feigning disappointment. "i think he's gonna be here soon."
"i'm leaving then," she announced, bending over to pick up her bag and starting towards the door, ready to catch the two imbeciles listening in. her hand hovering over the doorknob as she delivered her final line, "please don't fuck-"
you were pretty sure you'd never seen anyone move as fast as them the second she swung open the door, stumbling backwards with sweat sticking to their brows and panicked expressions plastered across their faces.
"idiots," she muttered, stepping past them and leaving the door open without another word.
they were both staring at you though, mouths stuck half-open like they couldn't even manage to string a coherent sentence together.
"hi, satoru," you softly greeted, your stare shifting slowly from one to the other. "hi, suguru. you're a little earlier than i expected."
pretending to be totally oblivious to what they just overheard.
"hey," suguru finally forced himself to speak first, clearing his throat as he just stood out there and blinked at you.
âdo you guys wanna come in?â you asked, clearing the textbooks you hadnât been studying to start with off your bed.
"uh, well, i mean-â
you glanced down at the floor as satoru started to talk, doing your best impression of a girl desperately trying to disguise a crush.
âi actually forgot, um, something,â satoru gulped, grabbing onto suguruâs forearm and physically pulling him back into the hall.
he shut the door before you could question his stupid excuse.
fine by you.
your room probably couldnât fit both their inflated egos in it anyway.
theyâd be at each otherâs throats by the end of the night.
Ë. ŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛ŕ§â¤ď¸ŕ¨ ŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛.Ë
âobviously, she likes me.â
âyouâre literally delusional,â suguru muttered, scowling at him with crossed arms as satoru spun uselessly around in the chair at his desk.
âyou think she likes you?â satoru gawked, grabbing a pencil off the cluttered surface and throwing it at his best friend.
âdo i have to remind you which one of us is more popular with women?â he wryly retorted, mouth curling up in a smirk.
âwhich is exactly why sheâd want me instead of a man whore like you,â satoru snapped.
a strange twinge of discomfort settled into suguruâs stomach at the idea of you crushing over satoru instead of him.
what the hell did he have that suguru didnât?
âyeah?â he challenged, arching up an eyebrow. pride pierced by the disgusting feeling threatening to drown his better judgment. âyou wanna bet?â
satoru scoffed, chest puffing out he just declared war over who your heart belonged to.
âlet the best man win.â
or the best moron.
a/n: this was inspired by that one episode of himym lmfao :3 anywayyy imagine while theyâre so busy bickering reader just goes and starts dating sukuna anyway
Reader whoâs been atleast 4 of your closest friends maids of honor and youâre just so sure itâs not in the cards for you.
Literally, youâve gotten tarot readings that keep telling you to âwaitâ and âitâs coming soonâ but soon has already came and went and youâre still nothing but the background character in your own love life. There are the few guys who circle you but your just a good friend to hang out with, to have a good laugh with or when a man needs a nice and quick fuck.
How could the helpless romantic be romantic-less?
And youâre a maid of honor at another wedding- your sisters, clipboard in hand, giving out direction, making sure the family that shouldnâtve been invited anyway is far away from the bride, making sure the bridessmen arenât drinking too much, with that giddy smile is still you, curls bouncing with every step while walking around like a chicken with its head cut offâ you finally get a break. Tapping your fingers on the bar tabletop, and setting your check marked and note filled clipboard down.
Youâre mid sip of your margarita when you hear that low voice next to you, âYouâre pretty good at ollâ this, yeah?â
Your eyes widen in shock, coughing on your drink as you take in this big masked man beside you. Decked out in all black, You give him a nervous laugh, âI think so.â
Thereâs a moment of awkward silence, ice in his glass sweating, âDo yâ like ollâ this then?â
You shrug, âSure! Itâs not too much since theres a wedding planner-â
ââNo, yâlike playin assistant for them ând not yourself. Not your first merry go round, is it?â
You blinked eyes furrowing, âHow do you-â
ââMary is my cousin.â He clarifies, naming your close friend whose wedding was less than six months ago, âDeena-â he points over to your sisterâs future wife, âsheâs my co-worker.â
You bite the inside of your lip, nodding in understanding, but it all makes you feel smaller. How long are you gonna keep doing this? Working your ass off and no benefitâ
âWell I-Iâd want them tâ do this for me.â And it comes out meek, sillily so. Youâre clutching onto the bar for strength. And this stranger watches you, the way your lips purse out, rocking on your heals, curls falling in your face.
âWell would you like tâ try it?â He asks, setting his glass down and turning to face you finally. Heâs handsome, you can tell. Unconventional to some, scar on his hairline, another from his cheek to his ear. Blonde hair styled messily. Youâre intrigued.
âTry what?â
âWhat itâd be like, tâbe a bride.â
You shaking your head, chuffing out a laugh, âThatâs silly.â
âIs it?â He leans back in the bar stool, arms folding over his chest, his knee brushes against yours, âWouldnât be so bad tâbe center of attention fâonce. Iâd be- whot do they call it- shit- manifesting what you want.â
You swore he was just another guy, just letting you hear talk youâve been itching to hear. That heâs a complete stranger, and you could be putting your life at risk. Or trying to scam youâ
âYouâd really think itâd come true if I tried?â
In theres such sincerity in his eyes, a gleam so warm in this whiskey brown that runs right through you, fingers brushing against yours, âPromise sweeâart. Wonât waist yâtime.â
How could you say no to that?
a/n: my romcom idea for my âJune Bride seriesâ Simon is like apart of some linage for Cupid, so match making is in his blood. Youâre a special assignment to him or something because you keep ignoring the signs since youâre too nervous.
Imagine joining an online chatroom because you struggle meeting people in real life, but god do you want to lose your virginity, right?
Most of the men you meet aren't all that interesting, but there's this one guy...fucking hilarious, witty, a bit dry. His chat name might be "deadmeat" but by the pictures he sends it's anything but.
Deadmeat: thought of you again, bloody mess. Can't wait to have you.
The picture attached is his usual, hard cock covered in at least two previous loads, tip flushed pink and wanting. The calloused, tattooed hand it's cradled in is what drew you in initially. Most folk in the chat room were...well...gifted in size, and as fun as it is to imagine you can hardly manage two fingers on a good long day.
But this man? Perfect fit. About the width of his palm, fingers easily wrapping around. Not small by any means, but definitely not heart-stopping in a bad way.
You: just a few more days. Got the motel booked?
You make sure it's safe, of course you do. Swapping photos together in anticipation for the day.
Deadmeat, or ghost as he requested you call him now, is...a little different than you expected. Tall, for one, nearly brushing his head on the top of the doorframe when you nervously unlock the motel room.
You don't quite realize the breath of your mistake until you and ghost are half undressed in bed and you slip a hand under his waistband. You slide you hand along the soft hair at his base, wrap your hand over it andâ
...no. no way.
The amusement on ghosts face as you frantically shove his pants down and pull out his dick is palpable. Holy shit, he's massive. You're a few centimeters shy of wrapping your hand around him, not to mention the length.
You swallow thickly, glance up at him.
The fucker has the audacity to chuckle, reaching down to wrap his impossibly large hands around his dick, give himself a few pumps "well? Everything you were expecting? Don't worry, i can make it fit."
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synopsis: with no friends and a wallet full of cash, you concoct one last idea to make your final semester one to remember. paying everyone's favorite pretty playboy to pretend to be your boyfriend to complete your college bucket list before you start the life your family is forcing you into. but you might be buying far more than you bargained for.
pairings: broke!Geto x rich!Reader x dropout!Sukuna(+ rich!Gojo)
content: mdni, angst, college au, fake dating, pining, yearning, reader is an emotional mess, we all suffer here, discussions of arranged marriage and wedding planning, mentions of emotionally abusive/neglectful parenting, geto is PAINFULLY down bad and in love with reader, geto pov!
art by @/aransmind !!
âI thought you were dating her.â
It was the fourth time Suguru had heard that comment in under forty minutes.
Forcing a tight smile as he shrugged his shoulders and pretended to not notice how normal you looked by his best friendâs side.
Any stranger would think you were together.
The kind of annoyingly perfect couples who completed each other, wearing designer clothes so casually it was clear youâd been born into wealth rather than working your way into it.
âItâs complicated,â he muttered to Shoko, dragging his suitcase behind him as he walked over to join where the two of you were debating over which ridiculously over-caffeinated beverage to order.
Internally scolding himself for the red-hot jealousy burning beneath his skin as he shuffled within earshot, biting the inside of his cheek when you laughed at a joke he missed.
âSup, Suguru? You want something too?â Satoru grinned, pulling out his wallet without a second thought.
Ready to pay for him. Ready to be there for you the way he was always there for him too.
But was it because Satoru respected his relationship with you? Or was he just a better guy?
"Nah," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm good."
"Are you sure?" You asked, mascara-laden lashes fluttering as your attention shifted to him. Big eyes blinking up at him, your lips parting as your fingers brushed against the sleeve of his shirt.
"Yeah," he nodded.
"I'll just order for me and you then," Satoru hummed, giving you an easy grin before turning towards the counter.
Leaving Suguru alone with you for the first time in...well, since you'd moved in with him.
You had been pretty closed off. Keeping all of them at a distance, claiming you just wanted to focus on final exams, avoiding actually interacting unless it was in group settings. Fuck, he even texted Sukuna to see if you were still going to work, but you had stopped answering his messages after your argument. Recoiled back into your shell and desperate to repair the cracks in it you let them see.
So much for giving you a great send-off for the school year before graduation.
Did you feel like it ended for you the same way it started? Alone?
Or did you at least consider them your friends now?
Graduation had come and gone without a change. Your parents didn't even show up to watch you receive your diploma. And you ditched all the after parties for the comfort of your room - although Satoru had cancelled the big blow-out barbecue he'd been planning previously, still turning people away from his door the rest of the afternoon and into the night who showed up expecting one of his usual ragers. Even though you were both living together, Satoru had told him that he saw the kittens more than you.
But despite your distance, you'd still decided to come with them to the post-grad trip they'd been planning before all of this stupid shit had started to spiral.
Suguru hadn't been sure if you wanted to come though, or if this was just another thing your parents had pushed you to do.
He guessed he couldn't complain this time.
Not when it meant he'd actually get a week where he could try to bridge the distance, to break through the barricades you'd hastily rebuilt around your heart.
You couldn't exactly run or retreat from your feelings when you'd be spending your nights under the same roof and your days on the beach together.
Especially with no Sukuna to steal you away.
You were the only reason he was even able to be here now.
Suguru couldn't go back in time. Couldn't talk himself into having the courage to just talk to you in person instead of letting himself get catfished.
The best he could do was cling to whatever tiny chance he could find to change your fate and his.
"How are you?" He asked, clearing his throat as he took half a step closer to you. Hoping his hand would just happen to brush against yours. Aching to just lace his fingers with yours to feel like a couple one more time.
"Okay," you mumbled shyly, trying to smile at him like he wouldn't be able to see it didn't reach your eyes.
You smiled at Satoru.
Why the fuck did he always have it so much easier?
"His mom wanted me to come, but I'm actually pretty excited," you added, attempting to lighten the mood. Nudging against him playfully, your glossy lips catching the light.
"Have you been there before?" Suguru asked, forcing himself to make the conversation casual.
To not sour it by being too serious.
He didn't want to disappoint you. To ruin an ounce of your fun when you had a lifetime of it ripped from you.
"No," you shook your head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "But I heard it's beautiful."
"I can think of something prettier," he evenly hummed, the words slipping out reflexively as your mouth clamped shut abruptly, shoulders going stiff as your eyes widened with surprise.
Shit.
He shouldn't have said that.
But it was too late to take it back, and honestly, he didn't really want to.
"I don't think you should flirt with your best friend's fiancĂŠe," you finally said after a long pause, reluctantly meeting his stare like you didn't want to be saying it.
"You wouldn't be his fiancĂŠe if it was up to you," Suguru responded, as if you needed the reminder.
Did it make him an asshole?
He didn't know. He sorta felt like he didn't know anything these days. Fumbling to find his footing when the world just kept crumbling, the crack between you growing by the day.
"It's not up to me," you murmured, no tears welling up in your eyes today, but a resigned sort of sadness that somehow made it all worse.
"You're not married yet," Suguru pressed, throwing a quick look over to where Satoru was still standing in line, playing on his phone rather than paying attention to the conversation happening behind him.
"Suguru," you said his name so softly, so considerately, he could hear what was coming before you even opened your mouth again. Well fucking aware you were about to confirm everything he'd been worried about in the past couple weeks with just your next shaky sigh. "I know it sucks, but I'm trying to just deal with it."
You were folding.
All your alone time lately was surely you talking yourself into this. Disentangling yourself, slowly snipping away all the heartstrings tying you to them in a matter of self-preservation. Convincing yourself you'd be okay, that they would all be if you played the martyr.
"You shouldn't have to-"
"I know," you stopped him, offering an apologetic smile as you rested your palm on his forearm. "I'm just tired of making things messier than they should be."
"There's nothing wrong with you wanting more out of your life than," he bluntly retorted, gesturing over to Satoru without really meaning to, fumbling for his next words, for the right thing to say to make you see that it was too soon for you to give up. "Than this."
Than marrying a man you didn't pick and punishing yourself for just craving human connection.
"I don't know," you mumbled, removing your hand from him as he resisted the urge to grab your shoulders and shake you out of this. The most he could do was follow after you, snagging your wrist and spinning you back around to face him. His pretty girl. Helpless and hurt. Looking at him with those tender eyes as your lips parted again, "I feel like all I really did was hurt you and Sukuna."
Like you weren't the one hurting even more.
As if either of them were fucking scared of your mother.
What the hell did he have to do to make you see he couldn't care less about the repercussions if it meant you would be happy?
"Don't worry about us," he grimaced, sure that Sukuna would probably say the same thing. Might actually shake you too if he overheard this bullshit. "You're the one-"
"Who can make it easier on everyone," you stopped him, before awkwardly coughing to clear your throat, tilting your head to the side to signal that a certain someone was coming back.
"Am I interrupting something?" Satoru chirped, passing you a small pink drink with a cheeky smile.
"No," you answered before Suguru could, his jaw clenching tight as he watched your lips wrap around the straw to take a slow sip.
"I think they're gonna start boarding soon."
And Suguru had already screwed things up from the start.
Keeping to himself as the three of you returned to the rest of your small group, letting them talk as he watched your reactions, studied the way you played with your fingernails. You had painted them purple, a soft shade with a fresh coat of lacquer over it.
You kept catching him looking, your lips pushing out in a pout as you tried to nudge him with your elbow to get him to stop staring.
Suguru wasn't sure he could stop if he tried.
Which, uh, he didn't.
Just eyed you a little more discreetly instead, pretending to listen and nod along to whatever they were talking about while his brain raced to work out how the hell he'd get through to you.
He promised Sukuna he would.
Swore that he'd make sure you wouldn't throw in the towel before either of them had managed to make their first move.
And while he worked on winning you back, making you believe that there was still a chance, your former boss had begrudgingly sworn to take care of the cats - and look into your parents while they were occupied with wedding planning.
He doubted your mother hadn't made it this far without making more enemies other than her daughter.
But even if she hadn't, how hard could it really be for Sukuna to break in and steal a few documents without getting caught?
They might live in a gated community, but that just meant they were probably the type to leave their doors unlocked.
"You want help with that?" He muttered, gesturing to your bag once you both made it on the plane, Satoru a few steps ahead while you stared down at the ticket in your hand. "What's your seat number?"
You held it out for him to see, and he felt a rare flicker of relief return to him.
"You're next to me."
Thank fuck.
He took that back about three seconds later at the realization Satoru was sitting in the same row.
You would be sandwiched between them.
âI kind of thought youâd both be in first class,â Suguru admitted, pushing your luggage up overhead as you slid into the seat, your knee already brushing against Satoru's as he manspread in his typical oblivious fashion. Satoru was already staring out the window, bright blue eyes squinting at the runaway before looking back to chuckle.
âAnd leave you back here bored without us?â
His mouth curled up in a smile, but Suguru was still childishly stuck on us.
Knowing there was nothing he could do but pretend he didnât care, that envy hadnât crawled under his skin and started slithering towards his heart when he had to sit next to you and listen to you casually chat with his best friend - who might really end up your husband if he couldnât come up with something soon.
If Sukuna did manage to get the rest of your documents, would that be enough for you?
What would make you feel safe enough to snip yourself free from their control?
âi guess they must have given you your passport back,â he muttered, leaning in to talk closer to your ear.
âI wouldnât be surprised if she tries to take it back afterwards,â you mumbled, pulling your passport free from your pocket and passing it to him.
For a girl with ridiculously wealthy parents, there were barely any stamps in it.
He flipped through it again, as if it would magically make more appear, pausing on the photo of you that was clearly taken more than a couple years ago.
âLook at you,â he hummed, drawing out the syllables as he stared at your picture. You were as close as you could get to frowning at the camera without your lips physically curling down, eyes burning with something youâd lost somewhere along the last few years.
âI was having a bad day,â you huffed, nose scrunching up as you snatched it back from him and stuffed it in your pocket.
How many good ones did you get?
Suguru pulled out his own, holding it out for you to assess, enjoying the way your expression lit up when you realized he was returning the gesture rather than just teasing you.
âYour hairâs so much shorter,â you giggled, squinting as you held his passport up to his face to compare, and heâd let you laugh at him all you wanted if it meant heâd get to see you grin like this.
âThat bad?â He asked, arching up a brow like he wasnât coaxing you into a compliment.
âItâs cute,â you reassured without thinking about it, stare lingering on the photo before you placed his passport back on his lap. âI like it.â
If you only realized just how much he liked you.
God, it was fucking pitiful.
Pining on a plane for a girl promised to the one other person he deeply cared for, talking in circles around everything he really wanted to say.
Around what you clearly didnât want to discuss.
Not when you knew heâd change your mind.
You pretended to be absorbed in the in-flight movie, sharing a set of earbuds with him so you could watch together, ignoring the way your thighs kept rubbing against each other.
As if the touch was anything close to innocent when he kept glancing over to find you watching him more than the movie.
Was this supposed to be enough?
Was he meant to spend the rest of his life wondering what-if and overthinking about these tiny moments he managed to steal with you?
Suguru couldnât fucking stand the idea of you being the one that got away.
Or that he wasn't the one for you at all.
Satoru wasn't helping either.
Leaning against you constantly, tapping your hand and talking to you like you were an old friend, discomfort pooling and threatening to drown Suguru watching you end up sitting in the shotgun seat of the rental car after the plane landed.
That ridiculous ring glittering every time the sun's rays hit it, your hand resting on the center console a little too close to Satoru's arm as he drove the oversized van all of them had piled into.
Everyone was talking over each other, excitedly chattering over plans to go swimming or sight-seeing, but Suguru was just staring like a moron at the back of your head.
What were you thinking?
Did he even want to know?
You seemed so resigned. Like you found a little freedom in just letting yourself getting taken by the tides.
Would you want a life preserver if he threw one to you?
He hadn't come any closer to figuring it out by the time they made it to Satoru's vacation house, right there on the beach, painted a bright shade of blue that just hurt his eyes.
But it was big enough for them all to get a room, and the second they were all out of the van, his friends were scurrying to go claim one - with you trailing awkwardly behind them.
Suguru slung his bag over his shoulder, about to jog to catch up to you, but Satoru beat him to it.
Asking what you wanted to eat tonight, a stupid, simple question that shouldn't mean anything.
It didn't mean anything.
So why did it feel so fucking shitty?
Suguru didn't pick out a room. Just dropped his bags inside a few seconds after the two of you walked through the entrance.
And when no one turned, no one looked, he just started towards the back, unlocking the back door to go out on the wooden porch that led out to the shore.
Was he being dramatic?
Yeah, probably.
Not that they would notice.
Sitting on the sand as the waves washed in, exhaling as he tried to desperately tune out the sounds filtering out of the house he slipped out of. The bass thumping behind him after Satoru must've set up the speakers, the sound of your soft giggle from before ringing in his ears as he rested his face in his hands.
You might be a damsel in distress, but this wasnât a fairytale.
It wasnât Suguruâs story.
He was just a side character trying to steal the princess and play the hero, holding out hope that you'd choose him when he'd never be able to offer you what you deserved.
But he still wanted to make sure you had that choice.
That you weren't going to spend the rest of your life wishing he'd done something to change the plot instead of sitting on the sidelines like he was now.
The past few weeks without you had been so empty, he wasn't sure how he made it so long like that before.
But now that he knew what he was missing, he couldn't bring himself to fill that spot in his heart back in.
He just had to learn how to live with being a loser in love with you.
"Hey."
His head snapped around, the lump in his throat bobbing as his eyes locked onto you.
You had changed into a bikini, one of those see-through coverups thrown over it as you trekked through the soft sand with a pair of flip flops in your hand.
"Shouldn't you be back inside?" He asked, forcing himself to drag his stare back up to your eyes.
"Shouldn't you?" You returned the question.
"I'm just thinking," he shrugged, swallowing the drool pooling in the back of his mouth as you walked over and took a seat in the sand next to him.
"About?" You asked, a hint of nervousness in your tone that gave you away.
"You already know I'm thinking about you."
But before you were forced to reply to that, his phone began to loudly buzz in his pocket.
Of course.
Because clearly, he couldn't catch even the smallest of breaks.
Begrudgingly, he pulled it out, frowning automatically at what he found on it. Whose name was currently displayed on the caller ID.
Sukuna.
God, it better be good.
âShit,â he cursed, feeling an invisible vein in his forehead throb as his finger hovered over the screen.
âIs something wrong?â You innocently asked, looking like a goddamn angel in the setting sun, basking in the fading warmth as you cautiously watched him too.
âIâve gotta take this,â Suguru grimaced.
And for a guy who was used to planning five steps ahead, he still hadnât expected what he would hear on the other end.
âSo, uh, I got arrested.â
a/n: if anyone wants to be added to the taglist or has previously requested and was missed, pls comment on this chap and let me know :3