Welcome to my page, I hope you find something here that you might enjoying reading like I did. I started this page because I’ve been on tumblr for awhile now and I always wanted to try writing stuff myself but am not good at keeping motivated to write a whole consistent story😂. With that said, I am OBSESSED with reading other creators content and want to showcase their works to those who follow me.
I know how much it means when writers are validated and I love giving out praise where it is due. I was inspired after reading Lupus Noctis by @avocadoguru (written by 2 people as far as I know) and reviewing their series as the chapters come out has inspired me to do the same thing for other people!
So, if for some reason this page gets big everyone thank them for this fun idea I had.
I WOULD LOVE TO TAKE REQUESTS FOR WHAT I SHOULD READ NEXT! I can’t get enough of reading stories on tumblr so please let me know what to read next
Tentative guidelines for what I enjoy reading the most right now (always changing)
Big into xreader works. That’s really all I read
Katsuki bakugou
Azriel
Cassian
Harry styles
Izuku midoryia
Miguel O’Hara
Bradley Rooster Bradshaw
Jake Hangman Seresin
Jamie Tartt
Roy Kent
Eijiro Kirishima
Sam Obisanyia (I know I spelled his last name wrong I swear I’m changing it later)
I am into almost every type of story there is. So far I haven’t come across anything that I don’t enjoy reading but if there comes a day where something makes me uncomfortable I will ask to not be recommended those types of stories.
Thank you for being here and thank you for listening to my little rant!!
Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for centuries.
So when he found someone new, a female named Selene, you wanted to be happy for him. But something felt… off. And when you finally voiced your concerns, it didn’t go the way you expected.
An emotional argument. A messy fallout. And now, Azriel is doing everything he can to make things right. But something between you has changed—something unspoken and impossible to ignore.
Overview: friends to lovers, miscommunication trope, some grudge holding and petty remarks, angst , groveling az, some serious yearning and longing, inner circle & friendship dynamics. HEA! check specific part warnings for more!
♥︎ Part One ┃5k
Worried about how his new relationship seems to be changing him, you talk to Azriel about your concerns. Things take a turn when he refuses to listen.
♥︎ Part Two┃5.2k
You and Azriel are struggling with the aftermath of your heated argument. Unfortunately, you both cope in very different ways.
♥︎ Part Three┃8.5k
Azriel’s attempts at an apology fall short, Cassian’s advice backfires, and confrontations force both you and Azriel to face uncomfortable truths—though not the same ones.
♥︎ Part Four┃7.3k+
You navigate the aftermath of your confrontation. Azriel takes his first steps toward making things right.
♥︎ Part Five┃7k
A chance encounter offers a break from your tangled thoughts about Azriel. Meanwhile, Az reaches a pivotal realization.
♥︎ Part Six┃12.6k
The night of the gratitude banquet arrives. Your life will never be the same after it.
god .. sex with izuku before bed as a means to put you to sleep. rolling you onto your tummy as his lips kiss down your spine and teeth nip at your shoulder blades, his breathy laugh tickling the shell of your ear because he’s so amused at how much more whiney and needy you are when you’re on the brink of exhaustion.
“shh angel, don’t think,” he’d say from behind — pulling you up by the hips until your back arches perfectly, face smooshed into the lavender scented sheets ( he claims it’ll help you sleep better ). izuku tuts when you squirm, wiggle back onto his cock as he pumps it to full hardness and gets ready to fill you to the brim. “none of that, let me do the work, okay?” he’d add as a warning, because you may be sweet when you’re sleepy but not sweet enough to avoid using your manners.
and when izuku pushes in, thick all the way down to his base and filling you until you feel him in your lungs — your mind blanks, the haze of exhaustion taking over. he holds you up nice and strong when you start to sway from the weight of his thrusts, making sure he hits deep enough to pull dizzying orgasms for you. fingers slow and doting on your clit while you gush and whimper words that no longer make sense.
izuku works the tension out of your muscles, relaxes you one orgasm at a time — each stronger than the last while the heavy warm of him on top of you, owning you guides you to sleep. you’ll be slick between the thighs by the time he’s done with you, spooning you while his dick twitches amongst the seed spent inside your welcoming, wet cunt — his soft praises coasting their way through your dreams.
summary: azriel is very experienced in the romance department and you're not. well, that is until you're introduced to the world of nesta's favorite book genre and everything changes.
warnings: horny!az x innocent!reader!!!, shadow bondage, praise kink, PIV, mentions of smutty books, mentions of nessian’s unintentional exhibitionism, size kink/big dick az, overstimulation, orgasm denial
word count: 6.1k
Curled up on the loveseat next to the fireplace at the far end of your reading room at the House of Wind, you’re too entranced by the book in front of you to notice the two Illyrians who sneak in.
It isn’t until a shadow swirls around your wrist that you’re broken from your trance, which is quickly followed by the book in your hands being snatched up quickly.
“Hey!” you cry out with a frown as your eyes finally come up to meet your mate’s as he stands in front of you next to Cassian, as he smirks down at the book he stole from your grasp. “I just got to the best part.”
“Ohh, are they about to fuck?” Cassian chuckles, snatching the book from Azriel’s hand to skim the page you’re on.
“N—No,” you say sheepishly with a furrowed brow, sitting up quickly as your cheeks flush red at his question. “They just admitted their feelings for each other and kissed.”
Cassian frowns over at you as he finishes reading the page, visibly disappointed by the lack of steaminess in your book. “You’re a very different reader than Nes is.” he remarks, handing you the book once again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you question innocently.
“I mean, the books she reads…they’re very detailed if you know what I mean.” the male retorts with a smirk, “They really get her going, and I thank the Cauldron for them every day.”
You open your mouth to ask him more, but your mate plopping down next to you on the loveseat stops you in your tracks.
“Ignore him, sweetheart.” he says softly, pulling your legs into his lap as he massages your calves gently. “He’s being crude.”
“Yeah, sure.” Cassian chuckles, grinning wildly. “If you really wanna know about them, you can ask Nesta. She’d be happy to introduce you to the world of highly inappropriate books anytime.”
Azriel shoots Cassian a warning glare as your blush deepens, your eyes wide with curiosity as the male throws his hands up in defeat before retreating from the room. Before you can say anything on the matter, Azriel reaches a hand up to stroke your cheek, leaning over to kiss your forehead simultaneously.
“Did you have a good day, love?” he says in a quiet voice to change the subject, thumb running along your cheek while smiling at you.
“Pretty good,” you mumble, forgetting about your book once more in favor of climbing up into your mate’s lap. “Just spent most of the day reading and napping by the fire.”
“Hmm, just pretty good? That sounds like your idea of a perfect day.” he hums against the soft skin of your neck, trailing kisses along the smooth expanse.
“I am on my second book of the day, so it’s been pretty successful if I do say so myself.” you giggle, running your hands through his hair while leaning into his touch. His hand running along your thigh, toying with the hem of your dress makes you shiver, your hips involuntarily leaning into his as you do. “H—How was your day?” you question, trying to ignore how flustered he makes you feel.
“Boring, I missed you too much.” he murmurs shortly, breathing in your scent as he leans in to nip at your neck, his hands holding your hips in place when you unconsciously grind yours against his. “Thought about coming home and spending all day with you instead of being stuck in Windhaven.”
You giggle when his teeth graze your neck, skin heating as drinks you in. “Missed you too, Azzy.” you say quietly while reaching for his face, your hand hooking under his chin to pull his lips away from your neck and up to your own.
Your lips are plush and warm against his as you run your fingers through his hair. A small whimper sounds as he tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth, surprised by the eagerness from the male. The tiny noise is enough to drive Azriel wild, but he controls himself for your sake. He wants nothing more than to rip the little sage cotton dress you’re wearing to shreds and pull you onto his cock, to have you ride his length until you’re a crying mess, but he makes no such advances.
Though the two of you have been mated for over three years now, you’re still as shy as the day he met you, still just as meek when it comes to sex as you were on the day he first kissed you. Sure, you’d bedded males prior to being with Azriel, but you’d never actually been with someone who took the time to make sure you were taken care of first. You’d never even experienced an orgasm before being with him, so the world of sex was essentially brand new once you’d accepted the bond. Azriel was worlds more experienced than you and you knew it, but he never minded taking things slow, not with you. He enjoyed taking his time and taking in every single inch of you, enjoyed making sure you were satisfied and drawing those sweet little sounds out of your pretty little lips when you’d cum for him.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about doing more for your mate, you knew he was always holding back with you, knew he was treating you like a fragile doll that was ready to break. You’d been fine with that for quite a while, but things had changed recently. Within the last few weeks, you’d craved more and more from him, craved the rough touch and sharp tongue you knew were hidden behind that sweet facade he always put on for you. You didn’t want him to hold back anymore. But in all reality, you didn’t know how to reciprocate and make things interesting for him, so you stuck with your simple, basic manners of affection for now.
You’re pulled from your thoughts when one of Azriel’s hands snakes from your waist towards your breast, groping at it through the thin cloth of your dress. You gasp against his lips and he chuckles, thumb rolling along your pebbled nipple gently.
“A–Az…” you mutter as you pull away from the kiss, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of maroon, “We–We can’t, not in here…”
As much as you wanted to, you’d never done anything like this in any place other than in your shared bed. You’d be downright embarrassed if someone caught you in such a public place…that was the fuzzy feeling in your chest that you were feeling right now, embarrassment, wasn’t it?
“Hmm, why not?” he says, feigning a frown as he peers at you with darkening hazel eyes, “It is your reading room, after all. You should be able to do whatever you want in your own room.”
Azriel typically stopped as soon as you expressed your apprehension to him, but he could feel the heat radiating from your body, could smell the arousal on you as he teased you. He knew you well, he knew you wanted this just as much as him.
“Az,” you say with a breathless giggle, burying your face in his shoulder as he tries to coax it out of you.
“What love?” he coos, gently angling his hips up into yours to earn a strained moan from you, “Just tell me what you want. We can do whatever you want.”
Before you can even think about what you really want, there’s a harsh knock against the threshold of the open door. “Dinner, lovebirds.” Nesta says bluntly, walking past the room without another word.
There’s still the ghost of a smirk on Azriel’s lips as you look up at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you think about even getting caught in your mate’s lap in the reading room. He leans over then to kiss you quickly before pulling the two of you to your feet, shadows smoothing out the skirts of your dress as his fingers intertwine with yours.
“We’ll finish this conversation later, hmm?” he murmurs, smiling down at you sweetly as you nod feverishly, trying to compose yourself before making your way downstairs.
_______________________________
You decide to change up your lounging location the next day, opting to read in the drawing room of the House of Wind instead of your private quarters, in hopes that you’ll get the courage to stop Nesta if she makes her way downstairs.
If you were being honest, you hadn’t stopped thinking about Cassian’s suggestion from the day before, about him telling you to ask his mate about the world of highly inappropriate books.
Sure, the books you read were fun, but from the looks of it, the books that Nesta read were highly influential in her love life, and Cassian definitely benefited from her reading them. The thought of the time you’d accidentally walked into the kitchen one evening for a midnight snack and had actually run into the two of them tangled in each other came to your mind when you thought of it. How Cassian had Nesta bent over the kitchen island, one large hand gripping the meat of her ass while the other was snaked around her neck as he pounded into her mercilessly from behind. How you remembered him muttering extremely foul words in her ear, mumbling about ‘Is this how they did it in the book, huh? Is this how you wanted me?’.
You thanked the Cauldron that neither of them had seen you that night, and that you were able to slip out of the room before you were heard. But that didn’t mean that the vision wasn’t etched into your brain and didn’t replay in your thoughts every once in a while.
Luckily for you, Nesta did decide to make her way to the drawing room in the early afternoon, a handful of her infamous books in hand. She silently sits on the loveseat opposite to you, offering you company in your reading time.
“I’ve never seen you reading down here,” she remarks bluntly before opening one of her books, raising her brow at you when you give her a shy smile.
“I just thought I’d switch it up today, I’ve been cooped up in my reading room for a while.” you say as nonchalantly as possible, though it’s not a complete lie, you had been meaning to find a new reading spot for a few weeks now.
Nesta sees right through the thinly-veiled half lie, a smirk playing on her lips. It’s then that you know that Cassian definitely told her about your reaction to his suggestion.
“Are you sure that’s all? You sure you weren’t waiting for me to come downstairs too?” she implores, sharp eyes honed in on your wide ones. “A little bat might’ve told me that you’re potentially interested in some…new reading material.”
You flush at her words, cheeks hot as she gives you a knowing smirk. Your silence is enough for her to know your true answer, so she takes the opportunity to extend two of the books to you. Hesitantly, you take them, placing them in your lap as you study the titles–Fire and Desire and Cloaked in Shadows–before looking back up at her. Nesta looks at you expectantly, as if she’s waiting for you to open them and test the waters.
You carefully open Fire and Desire to a random page, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the words.
“Gods, look at that,” Manon moaned, sharp nails trailing along the swell of her new pet’s peaked nipple, “look how well you take my fingers, such a needy slut.”
The girl whines desperately, bucking her hips wildly as Manon adds another finger and circles her clit with her thumb. The witch kisses down her neck, leaving bruising marks along the exposed skin so everyone knows she’s hers, that she’s theirs.
“P–Please, Masters, I’m so–so close.” she begs, eyes welling up with tears as she stares at the witch; she’s desperate for release, but she can’t get there until they say so.
“What do you think, princeling?” Manon says in a teasing tone after feigning contemplation, fingers never relenting in the female’s dripping cunt.
Dorian stands behind the females, a smirk on his lips as he watches, hands falling onto the girls’ hips to press his ever-hard length against her. A half-surprised gasp falls from her lips when the prince’s hand grips her throat, squeezing lightly as she grinds back against his cock.
“I think she’s earned her right to cum, but, not just yet.” he says with a smirk, Manon grins wickedly at him as his free hand travels to the girl’s ass, “I think I want her to cum while you continue to finger her sweet cunt and I’ll take her in the ass–”
“Oh–that one’s mine.” Nesta’s words pull you from your trance, snatching the book from your hands hastily. “Sorry, I meant to give you this one instead.” she says with a wry chuckle, handing you another one called The Archer’s Attraction. “That one and Cloaked in Shadows are much more beginner friendly. Still very heated, but much better for your tastes.”
You’re almost too flustered to open the other books, but your interest is well past piqued now. So, you opt to flip to a random page of The Archer’s Attraction to see if this one is any better.
Luna is straddling Enos’ chest, hips bucking in overstimulation as he tugs her further and further up his body until she’s hovering over his mouth. His tongue lashes out then, licking a stripe up her core to make her shout in pleasure. He smirks up at her, lips glistening with her arousal as his fingers slide through her folds to lazily pump into her.
Tears shine in her eyes as she tries to free her hands that are bound behind her back, writhing under his touch.
“I know, I know it, sweetheart.” he coos condescendingly, rubbing soothing circles on her hip as she quietly begs for him to let up. “Is it too much? The little slut can’t take it anymore?”
She thinks for a moment, silent turmoil in her mind as she thinks through her next words. She wants nothing more than for him to keep going, but she needs his cock more than anything. Needs him to pound into her and take full control, she needs more than his tongue and his fingers.
“N–Need you, Enos.” she whines, pouting down at the dark-eyed male.
“Has your brain gone to mush with just two orgasms?” he chuckles, “ Silly little girl, you have me right here, and I’ll give you what you want after I take what I want from you, okay?”
Luna nods quickly, hips jerking when his fingers begin their slow attack on her core.
“Good girl, now sit on my face and cum one more time and I’ll give you my cock.”
You can feel Nesta’s smirk before you even look up from the novel, all too aware of the tiniest gasp you let out upon reading the last sentence. This time, the gasp wasn’t from true shock, but from intrigue instead.
“Is that one more your speed?” she laughs as you close the book, you meekly nod at the female, “Well good, it’s yours to keep if you want it. Read away, I’m sure Az will be more than happy to oblige if you find anything you enjoy in there.”
Nesta immediately turns back to her own book, leaving you to read in silence next to her. Instead of asking one of the million questions you have floating through your mind at the moment, you decide to open The Archer’s Attraction to the first page and begin reading. You’re almost immediately hooked, the romance and tension between the two main characters draws your hopeless romantic heart in as soon as you’re through the first chapter.
There’s definitely not a lack of heated scenes throughout the book, and each one leaves you with blushed cheeks and an ache in your stomach. The dominant personality of the male, Enos, is what really gets you, though. Each scene with him and Luna has you desperate for more of his foul mouth. Your mind races as you think of what it would be like for Azriel to talk to you like that, to let him take control and let him degrade you if he wants to.
The majority of the day slips away from you quickly as you finish the book at record speed, desperate to feed the burning desire in the pit of your stomach with each turning page.
By the time you reach the last page, the sun is low in the sky and the drawing room is dimly lit only by fae lights littered around the ceiling. Nesta is still deeply engrossed in her own book on the opposite couch when you look up, but looks up soon after with a knowing grin.
“How was it?” she questions with a raised brow, shutting her own book after stuffing the bookmark in.
“So good,” you giggle, setting The Archer’s Attraction on the table next to her other books.
“Oh, keep it. Re-read it as many times as you’d like.” she offers with a smirk. “And if you grow tired of those two in the next day or need some more inspiration, my personal library is open to you at any time. You know where to find it.”
You smile at the silver-eyed woman while mumbling a thanks to her, and she actually shoots you a genuine smile in return before turning back to her own book.
You excuse yourself quietly after that, slipping from the drawing room to make your way up to your bedroom with your new books in hand. Your body feels like it’s on fire as you set the books down on your bedside, mind racing as you think about all of the new and exciting things you want to try with your mate.
To distract yourself while you wait for him to return, you nearly float into the en-suite bathroom to prepare for bed. Excitement flows through you while you brush your hair and clean up. At some point during your flurry of emotions, you inevitably tug on that bond connecting your soul to Azriel’s, and he in turn tugs back as you’ve finished changing into your favorite silk slip and are curling up under the covers.
One of his shadows slithers into the bedroom then, snaking up your arm and toward your ear. Home late, trouble in Autumn. Don’t wait up, the shadow whispers to you. Your excitement stills then, sadness replacing the warmth in your chest since he won’t be home for quite a while.
You know to heed the shadow’s warning and decide not to wait up for him, knowing he might not even be home until dawn if things go awry with Beron. So, you nestle into the blankets and try your best not to think about the arousal swirling in your stomach as you attempt to fall asleep.
_______________________________
Moonlight filters in through the window as you feel the bed dip behind you, a sign that your beloved mate is finally home. You aren’t sure if what time it is, but know it’s sometime in the dead of night when you peer outside. An arm snakes around your waist slowly then and you groan lightly, rolling over in Azriel’s arms to face him.
He frowns down at you then as your tired eyes begin to flutter open, obviously disappointed in himself for not being able to sneak in successfully without waking you.
“Az…” you mumble, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek gently.
“Shh, sweetheart. I’m sorry I woke you.” he coos, his own hand resting on the curve of your hip as you inch closer to him. “Go back to sleep, love.”
You only whine in protest then, becoming all too aware of the pit of arousal that’s been brewing in your gut since the morning. Your arms weakly push at him and he chuckles quietly, adjusting to where he’s laying flat on his back for you. It’s not an unusual sleepy request from you, as you often sleep on top of the large male’s chest when you’ve missed him.
You don’t lazily flop down on his chest like you usually do, though. Instead, you straddle his hips and pull yourself up to his lips, kissing him slowly. Azriel’s brow furrows as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the tired kiss without a word of explanation. Your hips are pressed firmly against his as you grind into him, making the male grunt in surprise at the feeling.
“Sweetness, what are you doing?” he murmurs against your lips, hands falling subconsciously onto your hips to keep you in place on his lap.
“Need you, Az.” you almost whimper as your hands snake towards the waistband of his boxers. It’s in this moment that you thank the Cauldron that he doesn’t like to sleep in anything other than underwear.
“Need me?” he questions, one side of his mouth quirking up in a smirk as you sit yourself up to look at him properly, waiting for his approval before hastily tugging his boxers off. The look in your eyes is tired but desperate, one he hasn’t seen from you in a while. He can smell the arousal swirling around you as you stare down at him, your lips pulling into the slightest pout as you nod. “Alright, I guess I can’t say no to that when I left you alone all night.”
Your eyes flicker with excitement as he speaks, need roiling deep within your stomach again. He grips your hips more firmly then, attempting to roll you off of him so he can put you onto the bed underneath him, but you don’t budge. He raises a brow at you, but doesn’t protest as he watches closely as your hands finally push the waistband of his boxers down enough to free his cock. In your time mated to the male, you’d never been on top, never ridden him before. You’d always been afraid that the new position might hurt, that you might fuck something up. But after reading about it, you couldn’t get the image of riding his cock out of your mind, feeling so full of him as you cry out his name, it’s the only thing in your brain. You need this.
Azriel props himself up on his elbows while you stare down at his cock, eyes wide with need as you fist the length slowly. You’ve always struggled to take his full, thick length, so you know it’s going to be a challenge to ride him, but you’re up for it.
“Let me get you prepped first, sweetheart.” he suggests, knowing the inner turmoil in your eyes too well.
You shake your head adamantly at his words, pouting up at him. “Need you now, Az.” you retort, essentially begging to ride him as you continue to stroke his hard cock.
“Are you sure you want it like this?” He questions, groaning when you squeeze the length perfectly in response before nodding weakly at you before moving to sit up slowly. “Let me at least help you then, okay?” he says, adjusting the two of you so you’d be able to easily slide down on his length while using his upper body to balance, his back resting against the headboard.
You’re silent as Azriel guides you back onto his lap, watching closely as you grip his cock to line it up with your core. You look up at him when you slide the tip between your dripping folds, revelling in the way he nearly growls when you tease him. A small, yet devious smile is on your face before you begin to sink onto his length, gasping as he fills you perfectly.
“Fuck, sweetheart.” Azriel grunts, hands holding your hips like a vice as he slowly pushes you down onto him. “That’s it, love. Fuck, you feel so good.”
It takes almost a full minute for you to get fully sheathed onto his large cock, tears pricking your eyes as you bottom out, feeling so fucking full but so fucking good.
“Hey, hey,” he says quickly when he notices the tears in the corners of your eyes, hands falling from your hips to cup your cheeks as he frowns, “are you okay, sweetness? Is it too much?”
“N–No,” you say firmly, raising your hips slowly to ride his length. “It—I feel so full. It feels so—so good.”
Azriel watches you with wonder-filled eyes as you start to bounce on his lap, unable to hold back the moans that fall from your lips as you do. He’s quick to wonder what’s gotten into you, what made you so needy today while he was gone. But he doesn’t dare to ask in case he ruins the moment. He lets you take the lead, enjoying the view.
“So tight, sweetheart. Your sweet cunt feels so good, squeezing my cock so perfectly.” he praises in a low voice, eyes clouded with lust as his hands wander over your body slowly.
Your glassy, tear-brimmed eyes light up at his praise, as if his words spur you on even more, and you speed up your hips. You look down between your bodies, core clenching as you watch Azriel’s cock sliding into you easily with every bound. As you stare, his hand comes into view as it slides between your legs, finding your clit with ease to heighten your pleasure. A hedonistic sob leaves your lips then, making Azriel chuckle at your reaction.
“G—Gods, Az.” you whimper, whipping your head up to look at him again, noting how his hazel eyes have gone nearly black with lust. “F—Feels so good. Wanna—Wanna cum on your cock like this.”
A smirk passes over Azriel’s face as you continue to whine and buck your hips frantically, watching you with rapt fascination. He’s never seen you act like this in your time together, and he’s especially shocked that you all but pounced on him as soon as he entered the room this evening.
“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” he says experimentally in a low voice, watching your face for your reaction. His words seem to spur you on even more, you grip his shoulders like a vice as you pick up your pace on his length, babbling under your breath in between moans.
“Look at you, riding my cock so well. Should’ve had you do this a long time ago, sweetness.” he praises, continuing his assault on your clit as you stare at him with wide, glassy eyes. “You gonna cum on my cock like this, sweetheart? Gonna be a good slut and take my cum?”
Your hips stutter almost imperceptibly before picking back up again, shocked by his foul words and the way they make your stomach churn with desire.
“Y–Yes, want you to fill me up, Az.” you whine.
“Keep riding me like this and I’ll fill you up soon enough, love.” he mumbles with a smirk while moving his hands to grip your waist, guiding you to move even quicker up and down his length.
You whimper at the loss of pressure on your clit, but a gasp of surprise falls from your lips when you feel a cold, wispy tendril make its way to your core to replace its master’s fingers. Your heart races as you look down to see shadows snaking around your midsection and between your thighs, focusing on your clit as Azriel pulls you down onto his cock frantically. He’d never let his shadows participate in the bedroom with you, so the sudden sensation is enough to send you tumbling straight to the edge.
“That’s it, sweetness.” Az groans, a smirk plastered on his face as he stares at you, “Such a good girl, so tight around my cock. I know you’re close, love, go ahead and make a mess of my cock.”
His words of praise are your undoing, finally letting the pleasure roiling in your gut come to a head. You let out a loud shout of pleasure as your walls flutter around his cock, hips stuttering as Azriel continues to guide you along his length. The male continues to murmur words of praise as you come down from your high, refusing to let you out of his grip as you squirm against him.
“Just a little longer, love.” he coos as he watches you writhe in his lap. “Just–Just give me a second and I’ll give you what you need from me.”
Your eyes are wide and brimming with tears of pleasure as you stare at your mate, watching as something animalistic takes over as he adjusts you on top of him. He situates you to where you don’t have to move up and down anymore, opting to thrust up into your dripping cunt to reach his own high. One of his hands reaches for your clit once more, rubbing tight circles against it as he holds you in place with his other hand. You try to squirm out of his touch then, overstimulation sending a jolt of electricity to your core, but his firm grip doesn’t let you budge.
“A–Az!” you cry out, taking in the details of his face as he stares at you with lust-filled eyes. “I–I can’t.”
“Do you want my cum, sweetness?” he questions, never breaking as he searches your eyes for any sign of true hesitation but finding none when you nod at him quickly. “Then you’ll take what I give you and cum with me like a good little girl, alright?”
You’d truly made something snap within Azriel by riding him tonight, forever changing your dynamic for the better it seemed. The look in his eyes is domineering but still filled with awe, watching as you nod feverishly at his request. A deep chuckle falls from his lips and arousal swirls in your stomach all over again.
“C’mon, sweetheart.” he coaxes, pressing his fingers into your clit again, “I know you’re close again, so cum with me, baby.”
A loud shout of pleasure falls from your lips as the first wave of your second orgasm washes over you, while Azriel shudders beneath you. His grip on your waist forces you down finally, fully sheathed on his length as his release coats your fluttering walls.
“Good girl, that’s it, take everything I give you.” Azriel praises, pupils blown as he stares at you intently, taking in every detail of your pleasure-filled expression. “Such a good girl for me.”
Once his grip on your waist loosens, you collapse onto Azriel’s chest with a loud whimper. He continues to coo in your ear as you come down from your high, his hands rubbing soothing circles along your back as you fight sleep on top of him.
You don’t know how long it’s truly been when your eyes flutter open again, but you’re no longer in your mate’s lap, but lying face down on the bed as he runs a wet cloth between your thighs to clean you up while continuing to murmur praises to you. He slides into the bed next to you after finishing his cleanup, pulling you against his side when he sees you look up at him.
“Hi,” he says in a low voice, one hand coming up to smooth your hair down.
“Hi,” you reply softly, nuzzling into his side.
“Wanna talk about what just happened?” he suggests, a small smirk playing on his lips.
“No, not tonight.” you giggle, a blissful smile on your lips as you rest your head on his chest and let your eyes flutter closed. “That’s a conversation for another time when I’m not out of it like I am right now.”
“Alright, love.” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Rest up.”
_______________________________
Everything about your relationship with Azriel changes after that night, and it’s definitely for the better.
You become damn near insatiable, which makes sense considering you’ve continued to read Nesta’s books instead of your own for the entire week. Every book inspires you to try something new with your mate, who never complains, only takes it in stride as he watches you turn into someone just as horny as him.
Azriel has never experienced anything like this sudden switch-up in his five hundred years, but he definitely cannot complain.
He’s gotten to fuck you in the shower, pounded into you while you bent over the arm of the chaise in your reading room, ate you out on the kitchen counter in the middle of the night, fingered you at the dining table on an evening that it was only you two, and even had you crawl under his desk to cockwarm him with your sweet mouth while he was working late one night.
To say he’s been pleasantly surprised by your eagerness would be an understatement, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t questioned the reasoning behind it at all. The question has been eating away at him slowly, but he hasn’t found the perfect time to ask until right now.
Currently, you’re laying in your shared bed, hands bound behind your back with shadows as your face is buried in the sheets, your ass in the air as he stands behind you.
Azriel has been edging you for a good hour at this point, but only because you asked him to, you wanted to try it out.
Your thighs are shaking, tears brimming in your eyes as you crane your neck to look at the male behind you. His eyes are dark with lust as he looks down at you, a smirk playing on his lips while one hand reaches for your core, fingers swirling against your clit at an agonizingly slow pace.
“A–Az,” you whimper, trembling under his touch, “P–Please, I–I need to–to cum, please.”
“Yeah? My little slut has had enough?” he coos in a demeaning tone, chuckling darkly as you nod feverishly at him. “Alright, you poor thing. I’ll let you cum on my cock if you tell me something, okay?”
You nod again, eager to do anything to please your mate now. You look at him expectantly with wide, glassy eyes, waiting for his question.
“What’s made you so insatiable this week, huh?” Azriel questions in a low voice, sliding two fingers into your heat with ease while twisting his hand so his thumb can stroke your clit. “What’s gotten into you? Last week, you were my shy sweetheart, but you’ve turned into a horny little bunny this week. What changed, sweetness?”
“I–I, fuck.” you whine, hips bucking involuntarily as you squeeze your eyes shut to focus on anything other than Azriel’s fingers pumping into you. “I–I started reading some of Nesta’s b–books and got–got inspired.”
“Is that so?” he chuckles, his fingers coming to a halt buried deep in your cunt makes you cry out in frustration. “Have I helped you fulfill your fantasies about some of those horny little scenes you’ve been reading about?”
“Y–Yes!” you whine, pressing your hips into his hand as he stays still behind you. “Y–You definitely have.”
“Next time, I’ll have to have you read your favorite scenes to me and see how well I can help recreate them for you, yeah?” he teases, finally pulling his fingers from your heat as he positions himself between your thighs, “But right now, I think you’ve been teased enough and deserve your reward. Cum on my cock whenever you’re ready, sweetness.”
A sob falls from your lips as his cock finally nudges into you, your whole body shaking from the pent-up pleasure. You nearly black out when he bottoms out, one hand snaking around to tease your clit as you cry beneath him.
It doesn’t take you long to reach your high, especially after being teased mercilessly for over an hour now. Your walls flutter around his cock, making Azriel groan, following close behind you in his own release, being so turned on by the process of edging you that it takes him all of ten strokes with you milking his cock to coat your walls with his cum.
“F–Fuck, sweetheart.” he groans as you both come down from your high, pulling out of you slowly as you all but collapse onto the bed when his shadows release you from their hold. “Who would’ve thought you being my little bookworm would pay off so well?”
A small giggle falls from your lips as he leans down to kiss your cheek.
“There’s plenty more where this came from, don’t worry.” you say tiredly as he pulls you into his chest and peppers your face with kisses.
🏁 ꒰ ✩ smut ⋆ mdni ⋆ pro hero izuku midoriya & fem!reader. oral sex, somnophilia, established relationship, dom and sub dynamics, care taker izuku. -> izuku implements a seven step nightly routine that always ends with the taste of you on his tongue.
nightly routine with izuku includes a shower together where he scrubs you clean n puts a hand between your legs ton wash you up but he doesn’t touch you and pretends … pretends not to notice the way your thighs quiver around his wrist or how you reach back to curl your fingers in his hair for stability. sudsy kisses pressed on your shoulders and soapy digits splayed against your tummy to keep you still. “gotta make sure you’re squeaky clean, hm baby?”
then he oils and moisturises you up before bed, he’s already picked out your PJs — something that smells like baby detergent, clean and lacy and barely there and you know what the fabric means and he just pretends that they’re ordinary jammies. big scarred hands working through the knots in your body, squeezing and tugging on your thighs and the fat at your hips and thumbs pressing into your nipples and even still — izuku will smile as though nothing is happening, nothing is going to happen. playing with you, toying with his sweet baby who grows sleepier by the second.
you’re already drifting by the time izuku pulls away from your embrace, an iron grip not quite iron when he’s so easily able to break free. he’s over you, a finger to his lips making a shhhh sound when you whine because he’s not going anywhere, not really, shimmying his way down your torso — tongue circling your belly button, hot kisses against your warm flesh. “sleepy time, baby, don’t make a fuss,” he hums, because you will attempt to kick your feet and bring izuku back up for cuddles. “hands to yourself please.”
so you sling your arms over your sleepy face and let him draw your knees up to a bend, his teeth already grazing at your swollen clit from over your sweet little boy shorts. pulse erratic just like your heartbeat which is no where near calm enough to sleep. “miss you, come back.”
“don’t be a silly girl, ‘m right here,” deku’s voice pinches and peaks with condescension. the sound rumbles through your syrupy, tortured cunt — clenching around nothing, self-lubricating as she lies in wait for your boyfriend’s fingers or tongue. you’ve been waiting all day to be touched properly, the teasing and the taunting putting you on the edge where you toe the line between heaven and hell. “relax for me, let’s go to sleep — yeah?”
slick glues the seam of your shorts to your aching, vacant hole as izuku carefully peels them away, tucking one leg behind your pudgy pussy lips. clear and stringy between your folds — tantalisingly good enough to eat, and while the position of your clothing is awkward and uncomfortable, it’s irritation is minuscule in size when compared to that first stroke of his tongue against you. curling at your clit, knocking the little nub from side to side. slurping sounds slip between moans of gluttony, that mimics that of a man sheathing himself inside his partner raw for the first time.
jaded eyes sparked with a mischievous or borderline evil emerald peek from over your stomach, rising and falling with heavy breathing that only comes with someone losing consciousness to sleep. “lift your hips, c’mon pup,” he coos, slack jaw, words breathy whilst he tongues at your quivering entrance — carefully thrusting along your silken walls. you slowly begin to obey, rocking upwards and bowing into his eager open mouth. “look at that, there we go. you listen so well.”
your body does. only to him. as soon as you’re up, nimble fingers slide up to the base of your spine and hold you in place — against the mouth that works on you until you’re drenched and dripping down his chin. the flex of his jaw, as he drinks you down as though you’re aged whisky. rare. a treat undeserved by a mere man such as himself.
“baby, tell me about your day.” izuku drawls like a man lost without water for days, pausing for air, lapping at the wet inner crease of your thigh where spit and arousal marry to become one.
he latches onto you, while you find mental strength to mumble about your day plans. sucks a swollen fold between perfect white teeth, sending blood flow straight down south. “was good — mmnph — got my nails done ‘n went shoppin’…” the hero keeps you talking until you’re hazy, heated and half a second away from sinking into sleep. blinking away the blur that fades the edges of your vision, pleasure melding with exhaustion — you meet eyes and they’re already on you as though he hasn’t given a thought to look away from your parted lips and bobbing throat. just as you open your mouth to continue, his tongue laps at your candied cunt and squirms into you, pressing against the gushy, gummy spot nestled deep within. “oh, oooh! got somethin’ new for you.”
and you’re so sweet, god you are. in taste and in physical form. izuku gets the kind joy from you as a kid would at a candy store — static straight to his brain when you whimper into night’s humid blanket and squeeze your thighs around his head. arousal seeping through your sleep shorts to fuel him on as you pour your chalice straight into his mouth.
“for me? god, ‘m a lucky guy. aren’t i? can’t wait to see it…” he chuckles, almost humbly. words nestled against your soaked slit like a promise of other worldly ecstasy. a whisper in the wind, a heart shaped signature against your clit. “i think i want you to cum now, angel. nice and hard, let your body unwind. give me all you can.”
you listen again, every fibre and nerve ending in your body following izuku’s command like a dog who’s well trained and knows her tricks off by heart. at this point, you’ve barely any strength or will to stay awake. the stars align and moon flashes bright behind your drawn curtains — you cum against greedy lips and a tongue that smooths over your sluice sex like a salve, blacking out and falling victim to the soothing voice of sleep.
“lights out, baby,” izuku coos through the after shocks, all in a days work for his pretty baby.
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
꒰ summary ꒱ when a misunderstanding leaves your family convinced you’re bringing a plus one to your cousin’s wedding in Japan, the last person you expect to volunteer for the role is your infuriatingly observant intern, Satoru. it’s supposed to be temporary. professional. strictly off the record. but with your mother already sold on the idea of your mystery boyfriend, and Satoru proving far too good at the role, pretending starts to feel a little too dangerous. also, why is your “intern” secretly the heir to gojo corporation?!
꒰ tags/warnings ꒱ fake dating ⚹︎ undercover ceo! satoru ⚹︎ accountant! reader ⚹︎ satoru is 29, reader is 26 ⚹︎ lots of family pressure. reader has a complicated relationship with her mom ⚹︎ forced proximity ⚹︎ one bed trope ⚹︎ slow burn ⚹︎ mutual pining ⚹︎ wedding chaos ⚹︎ angst and fluff ⚹︎ some suggestive content but no explicit smut ⚹︎
꒰ authors note ꒱ hi cuties! this is a commission piece, and it is about 12k total. this first part is just shy of 6k and the second part will be out next week. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻 (art by @/hanamin_0123 on x)
"Oi. Boss lady."
“No.”
One problem at a time, and the spreadsheet in front of you wins by default. Because Column F is wrong. It’s been wrong for forty fucking minutes, and if it stays wrong for forty seconds longer, you may actually die here at your desk — hunched over, half-blind, and found by Shoko on a Monday morning with your face pressed into a pivot table like a cautionary tale.
"But… you don't even know what I was gonna—"
"—the answer is no, Satoru."
Unlike the human embodiment of a headache currently lingering on the other side of your desk, the spreadsheet in front of you is at least pretending to be important.
The chair beneath him creaks, and then comes the silence you know too well. It’s the one that comes right before he decides to be a problem on purpose. Attention is gasoline and Satoru is, structurally, a fire hazard. Still, your eyes flick up, and—
"No fair…” he huffs, that ridiculous pout tugging at his lips. “You didn't even let me finish the question."
Your eyes roll back down.
“Mhm.”
"And it was such a good question.”
You turn a page. "Really?”
“Yup.” He’s draped over the corner of your desk now, like gravity has wronged him, whining. “It was such a thoughtful… personal… deeply relevant… extremely genius level getting-to-know-you tier question that—”
You scowl. "—Satoru, enough. Just do your job."
It lands harder than expected. The sigh he lets out is deeply, theatrically offended. And when you glance up again, he’s sprawled over that same corner of your desk you made the mistake of clearing for him on day one because you’d thought, foolishly, that giving him a designated surface might contain him.
It had not.
Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.
Snowy white hair falls against his brow, sleeves rolled to his elbows; looking far too expensive and far too comfortable for someone whose official title is intern. His coffee is sweating beside your open planner — the one with a date next week circled in red: WEDDING, scrawled across the margin in your own handwriting. The condensation trails towards a stack of vendor invoices and—
…
Wait.
Are those the same vendor invoices you asked him to file yesterday?
Fucking great.
“Oh, c’monnn,” he grumbles, blinking at you over the rim of those absurdly expensive sunglasses he insists on wearing indoors. “One question. Just a tiiiiny one. It’s completely harmless. Humor me, yeah?”
You narrow your eyes.
“Satoru, you’ve been trying to ask one question for the last four months.”
“Yeah,” he says. “And you’ve been dodging it for four months. Imagine that.”
Technically… four months and four days. But who’s counting?
With an exhausted groan, your eyes fall shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. Noise drifts in from the hall — the elevator, the printer, a phone trilling somewhere nearby. But when you look up again, it all seems to fall away.
He’s gone strangely still. The smug grin hasn’t disappeared, but it’s softened at the edges, hooked at one corner with his head tilted slightly. And those eyes…
Oh.
That’s — no. You’ve seen his eyes before. Obviously. Four months of them. But right now, with the morning light doing something cruel and unhelpful behind him, they catch in a way that makes you forget you were mid-thought. The kind of blue that doesn’t ask if you’re looking. It already knows.
Which means of course, you look away first. “Fine.” Your hand drops as you mutter. “One question. But if it’s stupid, I’m sending you back to HR.”
It’s not much of a threat. It’s his last day, after all, and for reasons you still don’t fully understand, Satoru has always seemed oddly immune to consequences — which, frankly, feels statistically improbable given the amount of shit he’s managed to pull in the few months of being here.
“One question?” his grin sharpens. You point your pen at him. “Don’t make me regret this.” Yet his pleased chuckle is already making you. “Awhh… look at you. Finally yielding.” His pen twirls between his fingers, nodding with false solemnity. “Okay. So, here’s the thing… throughout these four months working beside you, I’ve seen a lot—"
“—that’s not a question.” You deadpan.
But ignoring you, he reclines back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head.
“Liiiike… I’ve seen the exact face you make when Mei-Mei emails you,” he smirks. “Even noticed you work through lunch more than you should. And I’ve noticed that little line right here—” he gestures vaguely between his own brows “—every time the budget goes sideways.”
Lips parting, you blink.
…why is he so observant?!
For someone who acts like he doesn’t give a shit, he’s strangely attentive.
You clear your throat, huffing. “Okay… what’s your point?” Your hands straighten a stack of papers that doesn’t need straightening. “Is there a question in here somewhere, or are you just reciting my habits back to me for fun?”
His grin is far too pleased. “Relax. I’m getting there.” And leaning forward, his voice drops, like he’s unraveling a conspiracy. “I just find it interesting how you answer work calls before the second ring. Every damn day. Doesn’t matter who it is.” His head tilts with a smug grin. “But for whatever reason, for the past month, your personal phone’s been ringing off the hook, and you never pick up. Not once.”
Heat creeps up your neck. Not because he’s wrong — but because he’s right. And he said it like it was nothing. Like noticing the pattern of your avoidance was just something that happened to him between stamps.
Oh.
Way too observant.
Shit. He couldn't have settled on what's your favorite color!? Or, what superpower would you have!? No. Of course he had to go for the fucking jugular.
His eyes drop to the planner lying open beneath the invoices. The circled date: WEDDING. And his grin sharpens. “Ohoho… I get it now,” he whistles, leaning back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “What’d your fiancé do to screw up this bad? Is the wedding off?”
Your head jerks up. “F-Fiancé?!” And he rolls his eyes with a scoff, still grinning. “Knew it. God, he must be really in the doghouse. Or maybe he’s just clingy as hell to be calling that much.”
You blink.
Okay. Nevermind. He’s wrong. That is not even remotely what’s happening. The most committed relationship you’ve had is the one with your coffee machine. And yet… part of it feels almost cosmically cruel.
Because somehow, this is the second time in a month that someone had looked at the scattered pieces of your life and decided a man must be hiding inside them. Except the first time, you never even got the chance to correct it.
After all… how do you tell your mother she’s wrong?
Last month, you still answered her phone calls.
Not because you expected anything different. But because somewhere between the second ring and the third, there’s this gap — this stupid, paper-thin gap — where you still believe she might ask how you’re doing and actually wait for the answer.
Some habits taste like smoke. Some burn like liquor. But yours, unfortunately, had always looked a lot like hope.
Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.
“Oh—uh, hi mom!”
Your phone was wedged between your ear and shoulder while you stepped out of your car, juggling your purse and what was left of your sanity. You were already behind schedule, and your mother was calling — which meant the day had already made its intentions very clear.
“What’s up?” the door slammed shut with your hip. “I’m actually about to—”
“—Trish sent the venue photos,” she blurted, launching into a conversation like always.
Blinking, you shook the bitterness away. Striding toward the towering glass of Gojo Corporation. “That’s—yeah, that’s great,” you muttered, badge in hand as you pushed through the front doors. “But I’m actually heading into work right now? So—”
“—It’s such a beautiful venue,” she ignored you. “Very traditional, very grand. But you know the Zenin family—they never do anything small.” And as she sighed in awe, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
The rational part of your brain told you to let this go to voicemail. But the rational part of your brain has never once won this fight. Because…
Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.
"Mom, I'm sure it's lovely, really… but I'm kind of—um, excuse me…" you pivoted around a man in the bustling lobby with a sigh. “Sorry. I’m literally walking into the building right now? But maybe we can revisit this later and—"
"—have you booked your flight yet?"
Your mouth flattened.
Clearly, your half of this conversation is optional.
“No… not yet,” you mumbled, as patiently as you could manage, jabbing the up button harder than necessary. “It’s been a crazy ass week so I haven’t had a chance to, but—”
“—every week is a crazy week for you.” The huff she let out sounded almost offended by the inconvenience of your life. “Why can’t you just book it now while we’re talking? I mean, it literally takes five minutes.”
A miracle, really, that your blood pressure isn’t a medical emergency.
Every week is a crazy week?
Yeah. No shit.
Two managers resigned last quarter. Another got escorted out by security. And their work didn’t disappear. No. It landed on your desk. Because that’s how it goes. That’s how it’s always gone. Group projects. Internships. End-of-quarter disasters no one else wanted to touch. If something needed fixing, it found its way to you.
You’re the one people relied on.
Just… never the one people chose.
“Mother. I’m at work,” you said, stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open, dropping your voice as you stabbed at floor fifteen. “Look—I’m about to walk into an eight a.m. meeting. But I’ll book it tonight, promise.”
“…eight a.m.?” she repeated slowly, before letting out a small, unbothered laugh. “Oh! Right. It’s eight p.m. here. Silly me. I keep forgetting.”
…
Keep forgetting?
She keeps forgetting that she’s ten thousand miles away? Forgetting that twenty years ago she abandoned you in another country to live abroad in Japan—handing you to your grandparents like a detail she'd get back to later?
How convenient that she forgot that.
The elevator slid shut, and you watched the numbers tick upward. “Um. Yeah…” you managed, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. “Anyways. I’ll book it tonight. After work. Okay?”
"Okay, okay. Sure. Sounds good. But are you bringing anyone?”
Squeezing the strap of your bag, you swallowed the lump in your throat. This again? The last thing you needed was to walk into your shitty eight a.m. meeting looking emotional.
No thanks.
“I… uh…” you cleared your throat. “I um—actually—haven’t decided yet. But anyways, I gotta go, so—”
“Waitwatiwait. Haven’t decided? Does that mean… you actually found someone?!”
Her voice pitched up so fast it almost startled you, and your mouth dropped so low it could’ve hit floor one.
Shit.
“I-I—I didn’t say—"
“—oh, thank God. This is incredible!!” she squealed. “We’ve been so worried. I mean—Trish is younger than you and she figured it out,” her tongue clicked. “People have been asking questions, you know. Your aunt Sara keeps bringing it up every time I see her and—”
“—Mom, I—"
“—It’s about time,” The laugh she let out was relieved, like a problem in her life had finally begun resolving itself. “You can’t keep putting love on hold forever, because men aren’t going to wait around forever. You’re already twenty-six—not getting any younger, dear.”
Love?!
Who has time for that?
And why the fuck is twenty-six the age a woman expires?!
“What’s his name?” she pressed, practically beaming through the phone. “What does he do? Is he from there, or—oh, is he Japanese? Your father would love that, he always said—”
And she was off.
Spinning an entire man out of thin air. An entire future, really. Building him in real time from a tiny slip up you had because you were too tired and cornered and desperate enough to answer the phone in the first place. And you stood there, letting her. Because interrupting her has never once worked in the history of your life.
“—actually, never mind,” she chirped a moment later, as if she was being considerate now. “You have work. I’ll call tomorrow and you can tell me everything, yes? Okay, bye-bye honey—”
Click!
And just like that, the elevator went quiet. You were left staring at your reflection in the metal doors, phone pressed to your ear, listening to the silence where your mother’s voice had been.
‘We’ve been so worried.’
…
If they were so worried… why had you spent most of your life learning to take care of yourself? And yet, the second there might be a man, suddenly you’re worth getting excited about?
Funny how that works.
Scoffing, you lowered the phone, shoving it into your bag just as the elevator chimed open. Itadori Yuji’s head snapped up behind the reception desk.
“Morning, boss,” he waved, radiating sunshine as you walked towards the conference room. “Kento’s asking if you’re still good for the budget review at eight… or if I should just tell him to panic.”
Your smile softened, burying the sting. “Yes… I’ll be right there.” And as you stepped through the polished glass doors, you played the role you’d always played.
The reliable one. Twenty-six years old, with two master’s degrees, a career at one of the most competitive corporations in the world, and a team of seven that would quietly fall apart without you.
But…
None of that glitters quite like a diamond ring, does it?
“Oi,” Satoru frowns. “You’re makin’ that face again.”
“Huh?”
Blinking out of your spiral, your eyes trace back to the man across from you. His chin is resting in his palm, those impossibly blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet stillness that makes something in your chest trip over itself — like a lock turning in a door you didn’t know was closed.
“Oh.” You clear your throat, forcing the pen back into motion. “…what face?”
“The one you make when something’s wrong,” he says quietly, gaze unmoving. “When you’re upset and trying to act like you’re not.”
For a second — one terrible, unguarded second — you don’t have a single thing to hide behind. It’s just him, looking at you like your well-being is something he’s been keeping track of in a column you didn’t even know existed.
But then the sarcasm kicks in, right on time. "Wow," you say, forcing your hands back to the papers in front of you. "So… now you read faces?"
“Mm... nah. Just yours, sweetheart.”
And that grin — god, that fucking grin — hooks at one corner like he knows exactly what just detonated inside your chest. You don’t acknowledge it. Acknowledging things have consequences, and consequences with this man are not something you can afford.
"…that’s highly inappropriate," you mutter, shoving it down. "Let’s maybe redirect some of that insight toward the invoices, yeah?"
“Sorry, sorry.” He leans back, hands up like he’s the picture of innocence. “Wouldn’t wanna start shit with your dear future husband.” His grin goes sharp as he twirls his sunglasses between two fingers. “Though, wow. Tough look for him. Whatever he did, he clearly fucked up bad.”
Why does he sound… bitter?
No. You must be imagining it. This is Satoru. Satoru, who treats everything like a joke until proven otherwise. Satoru, who doesn’t care enough about anything to sound bitter over a man who may or may not exist.
You scoff. "You’re making some wildly stupid assumptions right now…"
He perks up at that. "Oh?" With his grin hooking higher, almost hopeful. "Wait. So, there’s no fiancé, then?"
Your lips purse.
What does he care? He’s not your mother.
“I wish you’d be this interested in your actual job,” you sigh, arms crossing. “Those invoices have been sitting there all week.”
“Uh-huh.” He tips his head. “And yet somehow, I noticed you still didn’t answer me.”
You frown.
What the fuck are you supposed to say!?
Oh. Um. Actually, Satoru, there is no fiancé. That’s the problem, actually! My mother invented him the other morning and I haven't worked up the nerve to call her back.
Yeah. No. You'd rather die at this desk.
“Maybe because it’s none of your business.”
“But I—”
“Drop it.”
He stares at you for a beat, then he flops back in the chair with a dramatic huff, long legs kicking out in front of him, mouth dragging into a sulky pout.
“Well, damn,” he grumbles, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, rolling his eyes. “No wonder you’re single if this is how you shut people down…”
The second the words leave his mouth, he blinks. His gaze flicks up to yours like he hears it too late — like he realizes, all at once, how shitty that sounded.And it only feels worse the moment he sees your face.
God.
Of all the places to hit.
“Oho… wow. Okay. This?” you say with a thin, self-deprecating laugh, chair scraping as you shove back from your seat. “Yeah. This is exactly why I shouldn’t have let you ask, Satoru.” You reach for your planner, your purse, anything to do with your hands besides let them shake.
He straightens, watching you scramble. “Whoa. Wait. I—"
“—because you don’t know when to stop!” The words come out louder than you mean, blinking at the sting behind your eyes. “You just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you get what you want. Well good. I hope you’re happy.”
Before you can turn away, he’s on his feet. “Wait—” And the moment his hand catches yours, you freeze, breath snagging.
His voice is quieter now. His grip is firm yet gentle, and the air between you shifts, while something warm and uneasy twists low in your chest. The kind of feeling that makes you want to lean in and run in the same breath.
Though your eyes stay down. “Satoru… let go.”
“I didn’t…” he starts, then stops, gaze flicking to where his fingers still circle your wrist — before climbing back to your face, slower this time. “I’m… sorry. I just—” His mouth tightens. “I see how hard you work, okay? I see it. And every time that phone rings, you get this look on your face like it’s already ruined your day before you even touch it. And…” His brows pinch. “Fuck. I dunno why, but it pisses me off!”
Your gaze hesitantly drags to his, and the look in his eyes is softer than they have any right to be — all that blue, stripped of its usual sharpness, turned careful. Like he’s stepping toward something breakable and knows it. Like… if he asked once more, something in you might actually give.
“Satoru…” your breath hitches. “I-I—"
“Oh, finally.”
Shoko’s voice trails in, and your head snaps up so fast your neck almost goes with it. She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, coffee in hand — looking like a woman who arrived exactly on time for something she's been expecting all week.
Her gaze flicks down to where he’s holding you, and the corner of her mouth twitches.
"Sooo… not to interrupt whatever this is," she says, taking a sip, "but Kento's one eye-twitch away from a medical event. He needs you to sign off on the variance line before he starts reconciling his own will and—"
You're already jerking your hand back. "Yup—coming!" And as you step away, heat floods your face, but you don't look back. Not once. Not even when you feel him still standing there, watching you go.
Because looking back would mean acknowledging that something just shifted. And you are not — not — doing that today.
Unlike those invoices, perhaps some things are better left… unfinished.
You’re gone in a blur of heels, nerves, and professional self-preservation, leaving Shoko trailing behind and Satoru staring at the empty doorway like maybe the conversation might wander back through it.
It doesn’t.
And it’s not long before his mouth is pulling into a slow, petulant pout—just before he flops back in the chair with all the elegance of a man personally betrayed by the universe.
Un-fucking-believable.
He’d almost had you! After four months and four days of being stonewalled, redirected, and professionally shut down, you’d finally looked like you might give him something. A crack. A sliver. And then Kento had to ruin it with his stupid reconciliation sheet, his stupid earnest face, and his stupidly impeccable timing.
…
He could fire Kento.
Should he fire Kento?
As tempting as that thought is, Satoru settles for glaring at the empty doorway a second longer before dragging a hand down his face and raking it back through his hair. There’s no point. This performance will end soon. Because by this time tomorrow, he’ll be on a flight back to Tokyo. Where he can resume the slow, agonizing process of preparing to inherit a company he didn't actually give a shit about.
'Grow up, Satoru.'
'Apply yourself, Satoru.'
'You have no idea what it takes to run something like this, Satoru.'
Right. Because apparently, the heir to a multinational corporation needed to learn humility. Alphabetize files. Sit in a cubicle. Fetch coffee like some goddamn spreadsheet slut with a trust fund and nowhere to put it.
Four years of business school, two years shadowing his father; and yet, this is what they had for him?!
He scoffs. And when his gaze drops to the wreckage of your desk, he’s pulling the stack of vendor invoices toward him with a sigh that sounds put-upon even to his own ears. You’ve been nagging him about filing them for the better part of the week and… the least he can do is clear one thing before he goes.
The stamp thuds against the first page. Then the next. Then the next. And with muscle memory taking over, his face goes blank in the way it always does when boredom finally wins. It’s mindless shit. Still, he’s used to it. So naturally, when the phone on your desk buzzes, he doesn’t think twice; snatching it up, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he reaches for the next invoice.
It’s probably another budget nuisance. Or Mei. Or one of the other thousand little crises that seem magnetically drawn to your extension.
“Yo,” another stamp echoes. “Satoru speaking.”
There’s a sharp inhale. “…who?”
His brow lifts. “Uh… Satoru?” Another thud of ink slams against the paper and he huffs, annoyed. “What do y’need?”
The line goes quiet for a beat too long. Before the woman on the other end finally murmurs, “Satoru…” Sighing in awe. “What a lovely name. Is that Japanese?”
"Uh… yeah?” he snorts, flipping to the next page. “I mean. Last I checked.”
“Mm… I thought so!” She giggles. And her voice pitches like she's just unwrapped a present she didn't know she was getting. “So… Satoru. Why exactly are you the one answering her phone, hm?”
…
Why the hell does this woman sound so invested? And why is she asking questions that should be obvious?
Frowning down at the invoice, he stamps it harder.
“Because it rang?” He says it like it’s obvious. “And uh—sorry, but. Maybe because I’ve been with her for months, so… why the hell wouldn’t I?”
"Months?!” A soft gasp crackles, far too delighted. “You've—you've been with her for months?!"
"Mmm… four months and four days, technically."
He’s been her intern for that long.
That’s the question, right?
"—technically?!" she squeals, like the word personally seduced her. "Ohmygoodness—oh, this is perfect. Four months and four days—that is so specific.”
He blinks. But she doesn’t give him time to process.
“Look at you Mr. Devoted. Keeping track. I was starting to worry she’d never find someone like you. Every time I asked it's like pulling teeth. But I knew there had to be someone. I told her father—I said, there is a man, I can feel it.”
Pausing mid-stamp, the words slowly begin to catch up. Satoru straightens.
"…sorry. Who is thi—"
“—everyone is so excited to meet you at Trish’s wedding. I already reserved your seat and—"
Her voice keeps going… and going… and going. He pulls the phone away slowly as her voice echoes on the receiver, staring down at the phone in hand to see:
📞 Mom
Oh.
Oh, shit.
This is not your work phone. Your work phone is currently sitting at its dock twelve inches to his left. And it dawns on him that he accidentally just spent the last sixty seconds answering your personal phone like an absolute jackass and—
"Uh…” he backpedals. “Wait. I—"
"I told Sara, I said, we have to meet him and—”
"Stop. I-I really think—"
“—Satoru, what are you doing?’
His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, mouth dropping as he sees you standing at the doorway, eyes wide in horror.
Oh, fuck.
“Who is on the other end of that phone,” you hiss.
He winces, pulling the phone from his ear like it’s toxic — and you’re snatching it right out of his hand. He lets you have it without a fight, sinking back into the chair like he’s trying to physically dissociate from the situation he’s just created while you press the phone to your ear.
“And I mean…” she rambles. “I certainly was never one to wait around at twenty-six, believe me. But—"
"Mom."
"Oh! Honey!” She gasps. “Oh, my goodness, hi—I was just having the loveliest chat with—"
"I'm at work. Gotta go."
"—okay! I can't wait to meet Satoru, he—"
Click!
The phone sits in your hand like evidence.
And Satoru — to his credit — has the decency to look like a man standing in the blast radius of his own stupidity. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Like he’s rehearsing an apology in a language he hasn’t learned yet.
You stare at him.
He stares at you.
And somewhere ten thousand miles away, your mother is already calling your aunt Sara.
“Sooo… funny story…”
“—what did you do?!”
Satoru flinched, and now, the tears were already rolling down your cheeks — hot, fast, completely unauthorized. Not the kind you could disguise as allergies or blame on the air conditioning. No. The ugly kind.
Great. Fucking great.
You were standing in the middle of your own office, in the building where you work, crying in front of your intern. And Satoru felt the weight of it all at once. In the last four months, he had seen you in every flavor of workplace misery there was. Pissed off, stressed out, one spreadsheet away from actual murder.
But cry?
Never.
And this had his fingerprints all over it.
"Shit," he breathed, panic flashing across his face. "I—fuck. Okay. Please don't—I can fix this. I can—"
"Fix this?" A splintered laugh ripped out of you, and you hated how thin it was. "Fix what, Satoru? You just confirmed a boyfriend to my mother, a boyfriend that doesn't exist—and she is, at this very moment, probably already—"
Another break in your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your hand to your forehead hard like you could hold the tears in by sheer force. But it only made it worse, because now you could feel the wetness on your own face, the heat of it under your palm, and the mortification landed like a second wave.
God. How fucking humiliating.
"Hey, hey—it's okay,” his voice softened. “We'll just… call her back. Right? Tell her it was a misunderstanding. Easy."
“Easy?” you scoffed, the word coming out strangled. “Y-You don’t understand my mother, Satoru,” you managed, voice gone thin as thread. God, you sounded like a child. “If she thinks something is true, then it’s true. That’s it. That’s—there’s no correcting her, there’s no walking it back, she’s already told my aunt Sara by now and Sara’s told Trish and—oh, fuck—”
Another sob tumbled out, and your fingers dug harder into your temple.
God. Stop it.
Stop it stop it stop it.
Think.
Think logically. You're good at this. You solve problems for a living.
But every time you tried to grab onto a thought, it slipped — replaced by the echo of your mother's voice, high and delighted. The happiest she'd sounded talking to you in years. Maybe ever.
…what look will she give you when you show up alone?
"I can’t," you whispered, and the word came out waterlogged. "I-I'm supposed to get on a plane to Japan in a week and—do what? Tell them there's no one? Tell them I'm still—"
Single.
The word sat in your mouth like a stone. You didn’t realize you’d gone silent until the silence itself started ringing — your sniffling, the hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled life of the office continuing beyond the door like yours wasn’t actively coming apart at the seams.
And through all of it, you could feel Satoru looking at you. His stillness; holding you with an expression you'd never seen on him before and couldn't categorize if you tried.
"Um…” he looked down, scratching the back of his neck. “Soooo... the wedding's in Japan?"
You blinked. “What?” And as you wiped your face with the back of your hand, his gazed tentatively flicked back up. “The wedding…” he repeated, voice careful. “It’s in Japan?”
"Yes." Your brow furrowed, not understanding. "Why?"
He didn't answer right away. Just looked down at the floor for a second, jaw shifting, like he was turning something over in his head — something he hadn't fully assembled yet but could already feel the shape of.
"Huh… okay."
Okay what?
You watched his expression change in real time — from guilt to calculation to something else. "Right then!" He said, clapping his hands once, bright and sudden. "No biggie. I'll just go with you."
No biggie?
Your mouth dropped.
That wasn’t even an option, was it?
…is he crazy?
“You’re kidding,” your laugh was awkward and breathless. His eyes rolled with a smug grin. “Sweetheart, c’mon,” and he was gesturing between the two of you like the answer was sitting there in plain sight and you were the only person in the room committed to not seeing it. "Your family thinks you're bringing someone? Cool." A hand pressed to his chest with theatrical solemnity. "I'm someone."
You stared at him. Genuinely stared.
Oh. He wasn’t kidding.
Yup. He’s crazy.
"You are not 'someone,' Satoru. You are my intern."
“Yeah. For like… another six hours?"
He checked his watch with a shrug, and your lips flattened.
"…that is not the point."
“Mm… feels a little like the point."
He smirked, but it faded faster than usual, dimming at the edges as his blue eyes hesitated on yours. Something shifted in his posture; the performance pulling back, like a tide going out. "Um… look…" He pushed off the desk, stepping closer. "It’s really no hassle." He said, hands sliding into his pockets. "I already have a flight scheduled. My family's in Tokyo. And I was going back after this internship anyway, so… this just moves my timeline back a little."
He was shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t agreeing to fly across the world with you and walk straight into the disaster that was your family.
…
His family’s in Japan too?
You barely knew anything about him. He kept his life sealed off with the same practiced deflection you kept yours — jokes in place of answers, charm in place of honesty. You never bothered to ask, because asking meant caring and that was a door you never intended to walk through with anyone.
But…
"Just… let me come with you. I’ll be your boyfriend for the weekend. For the wedding. For… whatever you need,” he said. And this time, when he stepped closer, there was no grin to hide behind. "I can be useful. I caused this. So… let me fix it."
Heat creeped up your neck, and you scoffed, weakly.
"Okay… but you can't fix my mother."
"No…” he murmured, tilting his head. His hand came up and brushed a tear trailing down your cheek with a careful gentleness. “But… I can make sure you don't have to walk in there alone?"
Your breath hitched, and when your eyes finally lifted, the morning light was being cruel again — catching in that impossible blue and turning it soft. Like stained glass dipped in sunlight. Like something holy made dangerous by the simple fact that it was looking straight at you.
“Mhn. So, do I get the job, boss lady? Because that look you’re giving me…” a slow smirk curls up the corner of his mouth. “Very encouraging for my boyfriend résumé, by the way. Might get addicted to it and wanna make it a full-time gig.”
“Shut up,” you mutter, looking away too fast to be convincing.“That was not a look. I was just—” You grimace. “…never mind.”
He’s chuckling as you brush past him. And his words are what scared you the most. Which was bad. Very, very bad. Because your mother was one problem. Japan was another. But Satoru looking at you like that?
Shit…
That felt like the kind of complication that didn’t stay neatly contained. And you knew better than anyone. Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.
a/n: hehe. this has been fun to work on! i am excited to share the next part. clearly i love these fake dating/fake marriage tropes aha 🙂↕️ bc this is like... what—my third time doing it? soooo i tried to change things up and make it feel less standard/generic :) but anyways, like i said pt 2 will be out in a week, pls lmk if you wanna be tagged 💖
summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?
genre/warnings ⸺ enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, suggestive, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly, all they do is bicker 💀, some historical inaccuracies, mentions of sex work
chapter summary ⸺ those who you hold to your heart begin questioning you about your intents and thoughts about gojo. you are not yet ready to answer them, yet you keep encountering the infamous man particularly in the ton's latest excursion (9.0k)
a/n ahhhh guys i have so many updates for you all (yap will be for after the chapter). i missed you all so much and i am SO SORRY for how long this update took. i swore to myself i would finish this series and i hope you haven't lost faith in me <3
prev. the art gallery | next. soon!
general masterlist | series masterlist
Dearest Gentle Reader,
Parties in the country are truly enjoyable—the ton all descend down to the plains and fields, and this weekend, it will be at the Getos’ estate. As we all know, the season’s diamond, along with her current favored match Duke Nanami, will be gracing the manor. One can only wonder if Duke Nanami’s sudden enthusiasm for the country air has anything to do with a certain Miss Itadori’s confirmed attendance.
Furthermore, Duke Nanami is not a man given to delay, and a country estate offers precisely the privacy…certain declarations require.
⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS
It was a miracle that you got Sukuna to get into the family carriage without causing an exhibition of yourselves at the gallery. With the way you had ushered Sukuna—-praying he did not cause a tumult in the main hall—Choso and Yuji had recognized your forms coursing towards the exit quite easily, and made to follow you both.
However, as soon as you all had seated yourselves in the carriage: “Sister, what did I just see?”
You groan. It’s not easy to pacify your older brother once he’s set off—he easily sees through any words meant to calm. Sukuna is seated in front of you, appearing like a kettle with smoke blowing out of the orifices of his ears. Choso and Yuji exchange equally confused glances as you carefully answer, “Well, Brother, I had…felt a little wired and thought that a period of repose might do me and my nerves some good. And I…happened to encounter Lord Gojo—”
“What?!” comes from Choso and Yuji at once, while Sukuna exhales in anger.
His jaw is clenched, so much that you suppose it would make a fine knife. “And, pray tell, why did you stay there? Let me remind you that you seemed in no hurry to escape that…that bastard’s company—”
“Sukuna!” you cry out in outrage. “I know you abhor him so, but that does not mean you should lose propriety—”
“You’re defending him now? Sister, did it take a few words from him for you to forget all that he has done to you?”
“I’m not defending him.” You pinch your nose in frustration—you were quickly finding that the carriage was rather too small for such a heated exchange. “Rather, I am trying to tell you that Lord Gojo and I are now on amicable terms—”
“What?”
“Are you both incapable of uttering out more than a singular word?!” you snap towards your other brothers once more. “After he had taken the fall in my stead at the park, would it not be natural to reconsider his positions and thoughts?
It was as if you had just suggested that he eat out of his own chamber pot, for Sukuna’s look to you was more than a blend of incredulity and fury. Harsh breaths escaped him, loud and jarring, and served as testament to how seriously he was understanding your assertions. He searched for words, failed multiple times, and then bit out a “I had thought you more intelligent than this.”
You snorted in fury. “For your sake, I am going to dismiss that from my mind, for I am very well endowed with the capacity to reason, thank you very much—-”
“You indubitably are not, seeing it only took a few pleasantries and flirtations from that sob for you to accede and disregard all that he has done to you—”
“And you are the one inflamed—irrationally so, for your kind knowledge—without even listening to what I have to articulate about the matter—”
“It does not matter what you say!” he calls loudly, so much so you see your other brothers flinch. You could sense an intervention from Choso coming, one commonplace in such disputes. “I will never express my consent for you to marry that man, nor will I permit this insensibility from you!”
“There was no mention of matrimony here, and the insensible one is you, not me, to be drawing such ridiculous determinations from my words!”
“I know what this leads towards, and there’s nothing not insensible from being benevolent and civil towards him—”
“I do not care what you have to say,” you sigh furiously. “It would do you good to remember that you not the lord of the house nor are you my mother—but you do seem to have an affinity for taking the role often–”
Your brother laughs, and each chuckle is filled with a chord of anger. “Oh, hoho. If you believe I am acting like Mother, maybe I should cease any hope for you, as well.” In his anger, he did not see the tinge of hurt flash across your face. “Perhaps I never should have come to your avail, if you are to act this insolent—”
“Sukuna!” Choso interrupts him, harshly. “Mind your words!”
When your brother was experiencing a fit of anger, it was as if he was a bull gone berserk. If it was one individual angering him, waving the red flag, it would take another shade of vermillion to redirect his ire. Although he was quick in understanding people’s dispositions and, as he matured, learned to gain more tact with his words, he was still the same with his family: unable to cease charging after the nearest point until he felt the matter resolved. Only, rather than slow his momentum after his previous mark, he continued the fervor, or in a particularly heated exchange, upped the ante even more.
Today, Sukuna’s anger did not spare Choso. “Do not tell me to mind my words when I know how much minding you have done for our sister, Choso.” He practically spits out his name. “Staying idle, letting Mother have her way with her schemes with trying to get Sister married to a known rake—I truly have been grappling between deciding if you truly have just lost your mind or ceased to care about our sister—”
“Unlike you,” Choso’s words are calm but furious nonetheless. “I choose to trust our sister and give her the autonomy to decide what is best for her. It would make me no better than Mama,” Sukuna’s jaw clenches at the obvious statement thrown at him, ”to force her to abide by my bidding and follow only my thoughts, none of her own.”
“Surely you understand that there is a difference between trust, and guidance? Where were you when Sister had disappeared today, when she was no longer by His Grace’s side?”
In an uncommon manner, Yuji echoes his words. “Indeed, where were you, brother?”
Be rest assured that your brother is no true animal, he is a man. A man diverted easily by one thing: gossip. Thus, it was as if the red flag had vanished, and his head turned to shoot a look, one with guarded curiosity, towards the younger brother, and some of the foreboding you had been feeling throughout the heated exchange faded. “Was he not with you?”
“No, rather…” Yuji’s brow is furrowed as he tries to recall the events, and his countenance lights up when the memory comes to the forefront of his mind. “I believe I saw him conversing with a lady—”
After the object of Sukuna’s fury had been diverted from you to Choso, you had become a spectator—with it, came the chance for you to calm your temper. All to say: you were truly about to enjoy Sukuna probing into Choso’s affairs, rather than yours with Gojo.
“And who was this fair lady you were so occupied with, Choso?”
A blush creeps its way up Choso’s neck. “I—”
“I think her hair was of a fair, blonde color!” Yuji interrupts.
At this, Choso snaps, “I was simply aiming to refresh myself and head to the retiring room. Yuji is spinning tales filled with misrepresentations—”
Sukuna crosses his arms, a true image of ease while Choso the shade of a ripe rhubarb. “Ah, but there must be something to represent for him to recount your whereabouts with a certain lady—”
“Even so, I may have encountered many ladies. There is no need to single out any one.”
“Oh!” Sukuna widens his eyes in jest, nodding as if in understanding, and from Yuji comes, “Our brother is so fetching he has lost count of all the ladies that propose him!” This earns him a bark of laughter from Sukuna, while Choso groans in vexation.
The prospect of Choso courting a lady was indeed quite interesting—you were biding your time to comment on the matter, for you aimed to kindle the mischievous energy in the room. In the matters of gossip, you remained silent until you could contribute to the situation in a manner that would leave the victim sweating further.
Thus, while Yuji and Sukuna were riotously laughing, your voice interrupted them in a succinct manner, your tone innocent. “I wonder, if it was indeed true Yuji last saw Choso with a lady before he retired, what was the true manner in which you refreshed yourself, Choso?”
This opens another round of merriment, courtesy of your younger and middle brother, while Choso is left at a loss of words. As the wheels of your carriage take you further and further towards your manor, the teasing jabs of Sukuna and Yuji are enough to allow you to sit back, reflecting on the afternoon and what had happened.
He should be finishing the entries of the ledger for today.
On the matter of business, particularly that of his family, Gojo has been an excellent student. His focus never wavers—if you would ask him to do a task that required six hours of endless work and accounting, he would be able to do it with ease. Notwithstanding, in the recent past, it seems that his focus only gravitates towards a certain diary. He can’t help but grab it multiple times, size its contents endlessly, and then audibly groan in aggravation as he realizes he’s drifted off in his thoughts and the person who had penned the very words perturbing him.
The action, almost like a vexing mannerism he had developed, lent time the ability to progress faster—it seemed that every time he wished to take a break from his work, his hand would drop his pen and instinctively wander towards the offending object situated on his desk. Furthermore, every time he opened the pages of the diary, he would be absolutely absorbed by the words he read there. In rather deficient and rushed handwriting it read:
March the 14th
Thoughts upon Mr. P. Cartwright’s recent pamphlet, On the Nature of Governance and Gentle Reform
I cannot but find fault in his suggestion that the land-owning class alone possess foresight enough to administer lasting peace. Is it not the case that lived experience—particularly that of women and tradespeople—might supply the very insights the gentry lack?
I am struck by the phrase: "The crown must not only wear gold, but bear the weight of silence between its people." I know not whether he meant it as metaphor or lament, but it lingered in my thoughts the remainder of the evening.
My brother scoffed at the piece, which only compels me further to engage with its ideas.
He reads it again.
Though he tells himself he ought to focus on the ledgers, on the minute accounting of the family’s trading affairs, it is this diary—your diary—that distracts and ensnares. And in this entry, all about some dry-sounding pamphlet and even drier politics, you somehow manage to sound precisely as you did that day in town: curious, self-possessed, maddeningly earnest.
It was a glimpse through the window of your thoughts and constitution then, and he had just tasted another just a few days ago, while looking at the painting.
Perhaps, we are simply of different minds.
I meant to thank you. For what you did last time.
Gojo’s pride is a powerful entity. It is not easily tempered, nor does it submit itself readily to introspection. To admit a misstep—to confess even inwardly that one has been less than just—is no small undertaking.
And yet, there is a growing unease in him when he recalls how freely he had once spoken of you. With derision, perhaps not in tone, but certainly in implication. Called you simple. He had thought himself discerning, perhaps even clever, for observing what he believed to be your uncomplicated ways.
Now, he began to wonder whether it had been discernment at all—or merely impatience, a failure of character that prevented him from looking more deeply.
You had not been simple. Far from it. Rather, you had been precise—deliberate. A careful calculation, one that had fully accounted for the particular brand of foolishness Mr. Gojo so often exhibited. And yet, curiously, the knowledge did not leave him bitter at having been outwitted.
Instead, it stirred something else entirely: a reluctant admiration, tinged with curiosity. Should fortune ever permit their paths to cross again, he resolved, he would at least endeavour to be civil—perhaps even amiable—in short, something nearer to an acquaintance than an adversary.
These frequent excursions to the countryside, you found, were irritating you to no end. It seemed as if just yesterday you had traveled to Kent, and the ton was packing their carriages to visit yet another well-placed young man’s grand manor in the countryside. This came with less fanfare, of course, since your mama hadn’t chosen to scheme with Lord Geto’s mama this time to get you to the manor early. Reflecting on the memory, the affair was both a hassle and simply too theatrical.
After you had broken your fast, the instructions from your mama were clear: visit your room and make sure no essential item was left before you all headed to the Geto manor. Of course, you had wanted to exchange with her a retort along the lines of “if I had truly forgotten something behind for the short visit, I truly did not need it” but you knew voicing so was not wise. Instead, you idly traversed the staircase to your room to give it a half-hearted once over.
Inside was Nobara, with a vexed look on her face. Once she noted your presence in the room, she became even more furious. “How would you have made do without your hair comb?” she reprimanded, and you searched for the offending object to find it was on your bed. “Would I have just used my bare fingers to arrange your hair?”
“That would have sufficed,” you respond airily, to which you get a vexed look that you do not notice, for you are too busy lazily glancing over the rest of your room for anything you may have missed. “Your hands are rather lovely and would serve as dainty hair combs.”
“Humph!” Nobara scoffed. “You would not find it so lovely if it was my fingers pulling your hair to rid it of its tangles.”
You could not help a bemused smile, the corners of your mouth pulling up almost of their own accord. “Perhaps not,” you replied, sitting down onto the bed in a most unladylike manner. Nobara clucked her tongue as you pick up the tortoise-shell comb and turn it over in your hands as if it were an object of intrigue.
Nobara has moved to your wardrobe, eyeing it like an enemy on the battlefield. “I suppose you will not be needing your silk shawl,” she says, her back to you but her tone sharpened like a blade.
“It is not that necessary,” you say, wondering if this trip will be as tiresome as you expect. “The weather in Kent has been quite warm lately, and I’m sure Geto manor will not be any different.”
“Then packing your parasol would be in due order,” she sighed, and you kept on idyllically examining your hair comb. The sounds of Nobara rummaging throughout your room to pack essential items and accessories disrupt the otherwise still silence.
Then, Nobara interrupts, as if voicing a thought revolving in her head. "Do you feel that he will be there?"
You felt a quiet dread settle upon you as the conversation turned.
“Nobara, surely you must know he will be in attendance. Lord Geto and Mr. Gojo are scarcely to be seen apart, and by all accounts, they are possessed of a most affectionate friendship. I think it only natural for Mr. Gojo to accompany him.”
“But are you quite certain,” Nobara inquired, her brow slightly raised, “that you will be able to avoid speaking with him?”
You paused, considering. “It would, of course, be incumbent upon me, as a lady of some standing, to offer a civil word should circumstances demand it. Yet I cannot imagine why there should be such unease on the matter. After last week’s unfortunate events, I had thought that Mr. Gojo and I had come to some form of understanding—if not reconciliation, then at least a courteous truce.”
Nobara, who had been made thoroughly acquainted with the particulars of that encounter—and indeed with the quarrel that had followed with Mr. Sukuna—could not conceal her displeasure.
“Even if the two of you are capable of exchanging pleasantries, I would caution against complacency. But,” she added, softening somewhat, “I am not inclined to worry overmuch—for you are now being courted by Duke Nanami, and whatever once existed between yourself and Mr. Gojo must, by necessity, be consigned to the past.”
Though Nobara spoke with the clarity and firmness of truth, a faint restlessness stirred within you. It was not opposition, precisely—but neither was it agreement.
“We might still be friends,” you said, rather more hastily than intended. “It is hardly improper, I think. That he is not my suitor should not preclude a friendship—however much my brother may disapprove.”
“I suppose,” Nobara replied, though not without some reluctance. “And yet I must confess, your disposition towards him strikes me as altogether too yielding, considering the trials you have endured on his account. I cannot help but fear his attentions are less than sincere. He slandered you most grievously among his peers, and when confronted, displayed neither remorse nor explanation. Might it not be, rather, that he seeks to regain your favour—having discovered, too late, that he cannot so easily relinquish the diamond of the season?”
You pressed your lips together, unwilling to offer immediate assent. Nobara, as ever, spoke with reason—but still, you could not bring yourself to share in her conclusion.
“If he were truly endeavouring to secure my affections,” you said at length, with measured caution, “I do not believe he would confine himself to mere civil discourse in a lonely corridor. No, I am more inclined to think he seeks only to establish a peace between us.”
But Nobara’s expression betrayed no such optimism. “If you are persuaded that his motives are sincere, then I shall not press you further. Yet you must consider the judgement of your brothers—”
The mention of them rekindled your irritation. The memory of your altercation with Sukuna still lingered, raw and recent, and before you could temper your response, the words escaped.
“My brothers are far too impassioned to hear a word of reason! They have constructed an entire narrative upon their own suspicions, and will not so much as allow me to speak in my own defence.” You sighed, a note of exasperation slipping into your voice. “It is utterly maddening, Nobara!”
Nobara looked at you with pity. "I understand your position, my dear, and Sukuna is very ill-tempered. But," and Nobara paused, as if wading through uncharted waters, "you must understand that you are their only sister, and, naturally, they are protective over you."
You look down at your lap, silent, and she sighs. "I suppose the loss of the master of the house had truly led them to bear the responsibility of being the head of the house. Choso inherited the title, but Sukuna clearly feels the need to support him in the role."
You suppose she had reason; after all, Sukuna would rather you become a spinster than get whisked off in some unhappy marriage, even if it would bring your family more power to be married to a duke-to-be like Lord Gojo. It will go unsaid these couple of days (you were still angry at him for undermining you so), but you truly do appreciate your brothers. Even Yuji, who was akin to a gluttonous beast and admired Lord Gojo.
The death of your father had not been easy and had affected your family in many different ways. While Choso had hardened into a man from the timid babe he once was, Sukuna had sought to grow more independent, furthering his education. Yuji was too young to remember your father, and your mama had remembered it all too well. It is what propelled her to make sure you secured a good match, for to her, lacking a husband truly crumbled the foundations of her stable life.
You and your mama have quarreled this season, but you cannot truly resent for her what she has done. After all, she had struggled but succeeded to keep her place in society in the wake of widowhood, all so you would not feel its weight when seeking a match.
Being reminded of this struggle further serves to remind you how you truly have squandered your time this season. While you had gotten a hint of a proposal from Duke Nanami, you would have to admit you had bid your time in his presence being a bit absentminded than what was proper. This affair with Gojo had truly led you off course.
As if realizing your thoughts, Nobara softened. “I understand that you, as a young lady, feel the need to fulfill your duty and secure a husband. However, you must remember that you are exactly that—a young lady.” Her tone turns coy as she turns to you, bearing a simper on her face. “If you must endure the season, then why not do so with a touch of mischief? A harmless prank upon Mr. Gojo—or perhaps even a few artful flirtations—surely that would not be so very unreasonable?”
"Well...I suppose you have reason," you hesitantly reply. "However, would such antics not sully my reputation as the diamond?"
“Nonsense!” she cried, waving her hand with theatrical flair. “If there are young ladies of some notoriety who can contrive to spill punch upon their own bodices—or upon the gowns of others—to draw attention and yet suffer no loss of standing, I see no reason why you might not indulge in a few playful flirtations.”
Grudgingly, you agree. "I suppose. But," and you purse your lips, "I do not think any exchange I have with Gojo further will be of a flirtatious nature. I surmise that I have repulsed him with my nature, for him to break off our mamas' arrangement and intentions."
"No one can say definitively what the young lord is thinking," Nobara replies. She moves the final stack of clothes she had finished folding inside a container and claps her hands together. "But what I can say is that you must not bear such a load. It would be a pity if you underwent this season and got married without truly experiencing true drama. After all, what is being so young for?"
Her suggestion was as dangerous as it was alluring. You were well aware that such frivolities, however harmless they might seem in theory, could prove quite ruinous in execution. And yet, the notion of abandoning the constant vigilance, of engaging in conversation without carefully measuring every syllable—perhaps even indulging in a touch of mischief—held a singular appeal. “Nobara, should your counsel result in the tarnishing of my reputation—or worse, in a scolding from my hot-headed brother or Mama herself—I shall see to it that your tea is thoroughly despoiled next week.”
"You will do no such thing!"
The interior of the Gojo carriage was quiet, save for the occasional sounds of nature that filtered in through the ornate doors.
Satoru stood in his seat, observing the landscapes that slid by and played with his cuffs. To his opposite sat his mother, who was similarly looking upon the vast grassy countryside that they encountered on their passage to Lord Geto's manor.
It was this exact situation that Satoru was dreading to find himself in. Ever since his...decision concerning you before the house party in Kent, he had been keenly avoiding conversing with one person: his mama.
Such evasions had not been difficult to manage. Satoru’s calendar was never wanting for engagements, duties, and last-minute obligations with which to shield himself. But time, relentless as ever, had brought him here—boxed into a carriage, and worse, into silence. A silence that now pressed heavily upon him.
Satoru could not help but feel afraid.
At last, she said, "Satoru."
“Yes, Mother,” he replied too swiftly—and, to his mortification, at a pitch rather higher than was respectable. He coughed.
“There is a matter I have been meaning to discuss with you,” she said, turning her gaze not upon him but fully to the passing landscape, rendering her expression utterly inscrutable. “But it seems that every time I make the attempt, you have taken refuge in your study under the pretext of some important task or another.”
Satoru could feel the disapproval roiling off her in waves, and swallowed. "I was simply attending to my duties, mother. Surely you cannot find me at fault."
At length, a single word passed her lips—“Interesting.” It was not the word itself that unsettled him, but the tone, which held all the quiet condemnation of someone who had seen straight through him. A mother, after all, is rarely deceived.
Quiet blanketed the carriage once more, and his mother's face was still turned away from him. Satoru moved to wipe the sweat from his hands.
"I suppose you know what I am seeking to ask you."
He grimaced. "Why the greenery is quite nice outside?"
"No," she responded dryly. "Why you made that absolute blunder and humiliated me---"
"Humiliated is a bit much, isn't it?" Satoru remarked. "Maybe my inclinations did not match yours, but it was a mutual decision made between me and Miss Itadori!"
"Decisions can be rash! I know your nature, Satoru---I am your mother!" she admonished, finally facing him with unconcealed disapproval on her face. "I truly worry for you, for I do not think you understand the true nature of marriage---"
"I solely understand the nature of marriage that I feel is best for me---"
“Do not interrupt me,” she snapped, and he fell silent, though not without a glance of obvious irritation. She observed him a moment longer, then sighed—deeply, as if mourning the loss of something no one else could see.
“What a shame,” she said, the disappointment in her voice now tinged with regret. “The two of you already seemed as comfortable as a couple years married. I had thought your compatibility rather promising.”
Satoru exhaled, exasperated. “Mother, your idea of compatibility and my own are irreconcilable. I cannot be expected to suffer under principles I do not share. Simply put, I disagree.”
“Your principles, whatever they may be, are just that—your principles. They are underdeveloped, as expected of someone at your tender age and lack the fortitude found in those with experience. I have experienced love with your father and found myself in a quite agreeable marriage. You should share my principles!”
“However, I do not,” Satoru responds back, remaining unconvinced. “You are not the arbiter of what deems a marriage well and fine, nor are you in my position. To me, you are solely discussing so-called principles because of your pride and how it has felled when I did not accept the match you had meticulously arranged for me.”
Instead of anger flashing across her face at disrespect, Duchess Gojo instead held a muted expression, as if almost amused. Looking upon it, Satoru felt like a child once more who had to crane his neck to see his mother, the enormity in their age and experience creating such a divide. At last, she sighed. “Then so be it. Your life is yours to live, and your principles are your own to develop. I can only help but worry for you.” However, her expression turned sharp. “But I do not approve of the way you and Miss Itadori have completely cut ties. Do apologize, I cannot face her mother after your petulant actions.”
Satoru could protest further, but he had realized that he had been relieved of the many scoldings he was sure were going to fall onto him. Acquiescing, he bowed his head. “Whatever you say, Mother.”
Naturally, when the ton arrives, the Geto manor’s gardens are bustling with noble gentlemen and ladies resting idyllically under both the pavilions and their sunshades. Most of the youths are standing near the refreshments, eager to chance a conversation with potential matches, or, like you, resting with their families.
Shaded from the glaring heat of the sun, you sip your tea, sighing in contentment at its taste. No matter what your complaints were, you could not deny that the Geto Manor was beautiful and lavish. Attendants fluttered between the guests, offering any pastries or refreshments, and the gardens were plentiful in green grass and beautiful flowers. The architecture was truly a marvel to look at, and the manor great in size.
You jokingly thought that if your courtship with Duke Nanami were to fail, Lord Geto would not be a terrible second option.
“The view here is splendid, is it not my dear?” Your mother echoed your thoughts, taking a bit of pastry into her hands.
You watched as she bit into it, and the shade of a satisfied look crossed over her face. “I wholeheartedly agree, Mama. The weather, too, makes it a lovely day.”
You and your mama had not truly talked. With Sukuna’s overbearing presence—and tendency to intrude into conversation he did not like the topic of—you and your mama had been rendered silent, the much needed conversation between you two tabled. However, after such a long day of travels to the Geto Manor, it seemed that all your brothers were winded; currently, all three of them were slumbering or winding down in their respective rooms. Neither you or your mama protested in the slightest when they had expressed their inclinations.
Without the boys, lazing in the garden and observing others felt less overbearing, for it was lacking of Sukun’s perpetual, acute stare on you. In the silence, both of you observed the flurry of conversation around the both of you.
Before you could converse on any unaddressed topic amongst the both of you, there came sounds of graceful steps behind you. “If it isn’t Miss Itadori!”
You turn, to face Duchess Gojo and both you and your mama stand up. Curtsying, you respond, “Your Grace.”
“How is the season, my dear?” She makes herself at home, pulling a chair, which confuses you. You would understand sharing a few words as courtesy with you and your mama, but after the whole affair at the Gojo house party, you would assume her no longer interested, or at the very least, that she would avert any possible conversations with you. Instead, she seems enthusiastic in seeking out your presence.
"It is all good and well, Your Grace," you bow your head and smile at her.
"Good, good," she sighs and then pointedly looks at you. "I do want to apologize, my dear, for what happened at Kent. It was a surprise to me and you, I assure you," she sighs, her lips pursed in disapproval at the memory.
Your smile is a bit strained, and you fear to look at your mama’s countenance. "No worries, Your Grace. Not all pairs are suitable matches, but I do wish well for Lord Gojo's future and that he succeeds in finding another match that suits him better."
You can't help but think that Duchess Gojo looks a bit dejected at your response. She smiles ruefully and lets out a sigh while picking up her teacup with her pinky.
You all spend some time in silence, for, after all, what more do you have to converse upon? Even your mama and Duchess Gojo could not delve and gossip on your pairing with Gojo, for it was no longer a pairing. However, if you were to leave, Duchess Gojo and your mama could find steady company in other gossiping matters that surely circulated amongst each other.
Tired with the uncomfortable environment, you quickly found a reprieve. "I find myself quite parched. If you'll excuse me---"
"No worries, my dear," Duchess Gojo waves her hand, and you cannot help but think her expression mischievous. "The boys are there, and they'll fetch one for you. Then, in the general direction of the refreshments, she calls out, "Would one of you dears please fetch Miss Itadori here some water?"
The boys?
Slowly, you turn toward the refreshments table. There, amid crystal decanters and glinting glass, stood three towering, unmistakable figures: Duke Nanami, Lord Geto, and—most arrestingly—Lord Gojo.
They had only just arrived, it seemed. The typical flurry of debutantes and dowagers had not yet descended upon them, leaving the trio in a rare moment of unbothered conversation. At Duchess Gojo’s call, all three turned their heads. Two reached instinctively for a glass of water at once.
Your eyes found him instantly. Gojo’s hand hesitated mid-air, his fingers brushing the rim of the glass just as Duke Nanami's touched it too. For a moment, neither man yielded. Then Gojo, blinking as if suddenly aware of himself, withdrew his hand with a smile so swift and unreadable it might have passed unnoticed. Nanami took the glass.
It was an exchange so small that anyone else might have missed it. But you did not. And the inexplicable flutter in your chest made you glance away, determinedly occupying yourself with the steam curling from your tea.
Duke Nanami arrived a moment later, offering you the drink with a courteous nod. “My lady.”
"Why don't the three of you keep us some company?" Your mama invites him.
"Of course." He then beckons Lord Gojo and Geto, and you cannot help but think Lord Gojo a bit too casual in agreeing to sit near you. Any exchange with him was bound to tread precarious ground—even if, lately, that ground had proven less treacherous than imagined.
“Did you all just arrive?” The way Duchess Gojo glanced over the three—and scarcely glanced at Gojo—made you wonder if any quarrels had erupted between the two.
"Yes." It is Lord Geto who replies, one leg over the other and reclined in his seat. You couldn't help but think him very relaxed for a host. To your side sits Duke Nanami, with Geto right next to him and Gojo exactly opposite from you. "However, Gojo here had taken his fine time getting ready.”
Gojo clears his throat, the sound soft but pointed, but not before shooting Lord Geto a glare, and the display reminds you of how deep their friendship ran. He turned back then, but had not fully done so before catching your eye.
There was a flicker of something—too fleeting to name—before he schooled his expression. “I simply wished to arrive at my most presentable. It would be terribly rude to do otherwise, would it not?”
“Indeed,” Duke Nanami dryly replied.
Now that Nanami was here, your mother turned to him with interest, watching him carefully. “I hope the passage here was not too tiring, Your Grace?”
“It was not. The route was quite scenic, and I enjoyed conversing with my mother,” Nanami responds.
Your mama smiles at him, satisfied. “It is very kind of you to be so caring towards your mother,” she sighs. “She must get lonely, at times, being a widow.”
He nods. Your gaze wanders from him, to the person sitting across from you; you startle to see Gojo’s eyes already on you. You both avert your eyes back to Nanami. “Mother is social, she makes do.”
“It must be so hard after the death of your father for you to handle the dukedom,” she coos. The promise of gleaning wealth—for you, but consequently for her—really candies her word and tone.
However, Nanami, ever the humble gentleman, bows his head. “I simply do the duty the title bestowed upon me requires.”
Your mama hums sweetly, as if in understanding. “Oh, but you must have even more affairs to handle after the great sum of land I heard you bought in the Americas.”
Silently, you gape at her. You understand her enthusiasm, for Nanami is the one courting you and the ton is abuzz with rumors of his proposal. However, you are uneasy about how guileless her words are. Duke Nanami, however, seems unfazed. “It was indeed a good deal.”
Then, another voice speaks up. “Indeed. Father had bought quite a lot of sum from it, as well, after I had advised him to.” You all turn, to find Gojo lazed back in his chair; you noticed, however, his leg was shaking minutely beneath the table. “Any deal in the Americas has great probability of being con work, but my insight had told me that it would not be such a bad idea for the land we invested in.”
Nanami agrees. “I had only bought it after Gojo had recommended it to me.”
You couldn’t help yourself. “How wise of you, Lord Gojo. Perhaps you should consider politics.” Once all the stares turned to you, you bit your tongue, vexed at yourself for speaking out.
Gojo, particularly, stared at you, until a barely-there smile began to play at his lips. “God forbid. I’ve enough headaches managing my father's estate. Though, should the House ever require a charming distraction, I’m happy to volunteer.”
You can’t bite back your smile anymore, either. “So long as the House is in need of charm and not actual solutions.”
Geto barks out a laugh, and Nanami hides his chuckle with a cough. You feel Gojo’s eyes on you, and Gojo replies, with a trace of amusement in his tone, “Ah, but charm is a solution. To many things.”
“Mostly to boredom,” Geto voices, watching the conversation with interest.
“And don’t we all suffer so,” Gojo dryly remarks.
Upon this exchange, your mother interrupts, turning her gaze to Nanami once more. “Still, I imagine such responsibilities weigh heavily,” she sighs, as if forlorn. “Perhaps it’s why so many in your station choose to settle down early, to share the burden.”
Once more, he has the perfect answer. “I would argue partnership brings clarity to duty, not escape from it.”
Your mama practically glowed. She turned to you as though Nanami had just recited scripture, and you gave her a small, warning look that she did not heed in the slightest.
"How beautifully put," she sighed. "And so true. I imagine a man of your station has no shortage of responsibilities. The dukedom, the estates, the tenants—"
"And Parliament," Nanami added, with his usual quiet precision. "Though I confess I find the agricultural matters most rewarding. There is something grounding in knowing your land well."
Your mama clasped her hands together as though he had composed a sonnet. "Oh, how admirable! Don't you think so, dear?"
"Very admirable," you agreed, because it was, and you doubt agriculture was a quarrelsome topic.
"I have recently taken an interest in crop rotation, actually," Nanami continued, speaking to your mama but including you with a courteous tilt of his head. "There are new methods coming from the Continent that I believe—"
"I've implemented those."
The table turned to Gojo.
He was sitting with one arm draped over the back of his chair, the picture of nonchalance, as though the words had simply wandered out of him without his permission. When the silence prompted him to continue, he gave a mild shrug.
"The four-field system. I introduced it on the northern estate last spring. Yields were up by a considerable margin." He examined his teacup with an air of studied disinterest. "I could send you my steward's notes, Nanami, if you'd like."
Nanami regarded him evenly. "That would be appreciated."
"Of course." Gojo took a sip of his tea. Then, as though it were an afterthought: "We've also begun drainage improvements on the eastern marshland. Father thought it a waste, but the surveyor's projections were rather compelling. I oversaw the plans myself."
"How industrious of you," Duchess Gojo remarked, in a tone that suggested she had never once seen her son oversee so much as a breakfast tray.
"I have hidden depths, Mother."
You pressed your lips together very hard.
Your mama, undeterred, steered the ship back to Nanami. "And your home in the country, Your Grace—I hear it is magnificent. How many rooms, if you don't mind my asking?"
"I have never counted them," Nanami admitted, with what you suspected was deliberate modesty.
"Forty-seven," Gojo supplied, as if plucking the number from thin air. Then, just as casually: "Ours has sixty-two, but who's counting?"
He caught your eye, and to his credit, had the decency to look only slightly pleased with himself. You raised a brow at him. He responded by raising his teacup, as though toasting you.
"Lord Gojo," you said, keeping your voice light, "I did not realize you took such careful inventory of your peers' homes."
"I take careful inventory of everything, Miss Itadori. It is a point of pride."
"Is it also a point of pride to announce it at tea?"
Geto made a sound into his cup that he poorly disguised as a cough.
"Only when the company is worth impressing."
"Then you must be terribly selective about your tea parties."
"Extremely. I attend only the finest."
"And yet you were late to this one."
"Fashionably," he corrected, raising a finger.
"Is that what we're calling it?"
"It is what I am calling it, and I am a lord, so it becomes fact."
"I don't think that is how facts work."
"And I don't think you should concern yourself with how lords work, Miss Itadori, and yet here we are." His eyes were bright, and the smile that played about his mouth was no longer the performative one he wore for ballrooms. It was smaller, more crooked, and entirely directed at you.
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep your own smile from growing any wider, and somewhere between his absurdity and your inability to stop engaging with it, you became aware of the silence around you.
Your mama was staring. Not displeased, exactly, but certainly bewildered, as though she had opened a door expecting a broom closet and found a ballroom. Duchess Gojo had set down her teacup entirely and was watching the two of you with an expression of poorly concealed interest.
Nanami's face, as ever, revealed nothing. He sipped his tea with the composure of a man who had watched the weather change and found it unremarkable.
But beside him Geto's gaze slid toward Nanami. It was not a look anyone at the table could have caught, angled as it was, low and sidelong, carrying the particular weight of a question that could not be asked aloud.
Nanami did not turn his head. But after a moment, almost imperceptibly, he set his teacup down a fraction harder than necessary.
Geto looked away. The answer, it seemed, had been received.
"Well," your mama said, rallying herself with the determination of a general regrouping after an unexpected flank, "I do believe the orchestra is beginning the next set. How lovely."
"Indeed," Duchess Gojo murmured, though she was not looking at the orchestra at all.
The dining hall is blanketed in the warmth of candlelight and a tune is playing on the piano, accompanied with the sound of cutlery and low, soft conversations. This, paired with the cooler air seeping in from the night sky, sets up a comfortable atmosphere as you dine with your mother and brothers, who finally woke from their slumber or whatever else they were during their rest.
“The wine is quite good,” Choso murmurs. It is his second glass. You notice your brother seems a bit more anxious than usual, with his leg shaking anxiously; you presume it restlessness from sleeping an obscene amount in the day.
Sukuna snorts, ever derisive. “If you believe this to be good, you would go mad after tasting some of the drinks in the wineries in France.”
“A man goes to Europe once and never ceases to talk about it,” you murmur bitterly, but everyone on the table hears you; an uncomfortable silence fills the air.
The man in question interrupts, anger hardly concealed. “I, at the very least, am touring and exploring the world instead of endeavoring to fall into the arms of a man who has humiliated me.” Sukuna did not mince his words—-the both of you had not reconciled ever since leaving the art gallery.
Pinching your brow, and procuring all the patience you had, you lowly bit out, “Must you be like this? Right now, when we are on a stay?”
He clenched his jaw. “I could ask that of you as well, Sister.”
“Oh, simmer down you two,” your mother impatiently scoffs, interrupting your squabble. The both of you, brother and sister, hmmphed, arms crossed identically. “We are not in our home. It would suit you both well to behave accordingly.”
Thus, silence fell as you all continued dining, save for the occasional sound of pleasure from Yuji at the victuals—the Geto Manor had fine chefs indeed. You almost started to believe the rest of the dinner would go easily, until your mother interrupted once more. “How do you perceive Duke Nanami’s attentions?”
Ah, she’s started to demand answers. “I suppose he is in due order to propose.” You make no mention of the fact that he already—in some sense—had.
She hums, the sound not exactly pleased but rather indicating that the news was moderately satisfactory. “And why do you suppose so?”
You pause. “He has spent quite some time with me at balls as of late, after Lord Gojo had broken off our courtship.”
At the mention of Gojo, there are varying reactions across the table: Sukuna comes to attention, and, consequently, so does Choso. Yuji continues feasting vulgarly, paying no attention to the conversation, while your mother asks, “I did mean to ask you, dear. Today, you and Lord Gojo seemed agreeable; is a match with Lord Gojo truly out of the question?”
A tense but loaded silence ensues and you feel your heart bumping faster, a strange feeling swelling up your throat. In the end, however, you cannot muster a response, to which Sukuna retaliates against. “Sister, you cannot be serious.”
“What? I had yet to answer Mama and still you come at me with such fervor! Patience is a virtu—”
“I’m tired of your antics!” Sukuna says, loudly, to which your mother sends him a pointed look, displeasure painted all over her countenance. He presses his lips together and, in a pained effort, takes a great sigh and continues in a lowered voice, “Lord Gojo has embarrassed you, Sister. It would do you well to forget that man. I do not know why, after I have re-iterated my opinion multiple times, you still yearn for that man in such a foolish manner.”
At this fortuitous time, Yuji decides to cease feeding on the meat and chimes in. “But, Brother, the lord is quite fit! I think you would find pleasure in sporting with him. I believe that, for once, Sister had made the right choice.”
“Fit,” Sukuna repeats through gritted teeth. “You would have our sister wed a man based on his physique?”
“Well, not, not quite—”
“Enough, Yuji. If I were you I would cease speaking immediately,” Choso sighs, though not unkindly. Your brother wilts, returning to his plate and cutting through a piece of lamb rather gloomily.
But the damage is done. Sukuna's gaze has not left you, and you feel it like a brand against the side of your face. You busy yourself with your wine glass, turning the stem between your fingers, but the silence stretches too thin, too taut, and it is Choso who breaks the silence.
“Sister,” Choso says, in a careful manner. His voice and its cadence seem to tread lightly, as if trying very hard not to be cruel. “You hesitated.”
“I beg your pardon?”
"When Mama asked if Lord Gojo was out of the question. You did not say yes." He is not accusatory in the way Sukuna is.
“It is settled.”
“Then why did you not say so?”
The table, all of a sudden, feels smaller. The background noises, which were previously surrounding you comfortably, seem to be quieter than ever. You set your glass down, one you did not even realize were taking a sip out of nervously. The wine dips and crests over the rim, staining the white tablecloth. “I apologize if my response did not come as swiftly as to your exacting standards.”
"Do not deflect," Sukuna cuts in, leaning forward, and you can see the restraint your mother's earlier reprimand bought him is now spent entirely. "He asks you a direct question and you dance around it as you always do. You are still thinking of him. Admit it."
“I am not—”
"You are." Sukuna's voice drops, and the quietness of it is worse than his shouting. "I watched you today, at the gallery. The way you looked at him. The way you spoke to him—as though nothing had transpired between you, as though he had not cast you aside like some common—"
"Sukuna." Your mother's voice is iron now, a warning forged in steel.
He stops. But only just. His jaw works, teeth grinding behind closed lips, and his eyes—your eyes, your same eyes, the ones you share by blood—burn with a fury that you know, deep down, is born not of contempt but of something far more tender. He is angry because he loves you.
And you cannot even tell him he is wrong.
"Yuji is not entirely without sense," you say quietly, and you do not know why you say it. Perhaps it is spite. Perhaps it is exhaustion. Perhaps it is simply the truth, clawing its way out of you against your will. "Lord Gojo is not—he is not what you paint him to be. He was kind to me. Genuinely kind. And I do not think it unreasonable to—"
"To what?" Sukuna's composure shatters. He rises slightly from his seat, napkin falling from his lap, and your mother reaches for his arm but he shakes her off. "To go crawling back? To let him toy with you a second time? You are a daughter of this house. You are my sister. And I will not sit idle while you throw yourself at the feet of a man who has already proven he does not value you as he ought."
The words land like a slap. But they are not untrue.
Your throat tightens. The room blurs at its edges, and you realize with a swell of horror that your eyes are hot, that if you remain at this table a moment longer you will cry in front of all of them, and that is something your pride, battered and bruised as it is, will not survive.
You stand. Your chair scrapes against the floor with an ugly sound that cuts through the piano's melody.
"Sister—" Choso starts.
"I find I have lost my appetite," you say. Your voice is steady, but your hands are not. You press them flat against your skirts to still them. "If you will excuse me."
"Sit down," your mother says, but it is more tired than commanding, and you pretend not to hear.
"Sis, I didn't mean to—" Yuji begins, eyes wide and stricken with guilt, as though he understands that his well-meaning comment was the spark that set the powder alight.
"It is alright, Yuji. Enjoy your meal." You touch his shoulder as you pass and you do not look at Sukuna.
You walk from the dining hall with your back straight and your chin raised, and it is only when you have turned the corner, when the warmth of candlelight gives way to the cooler dark of the corridor, that your composure fractures. You press your back against the wall, the stone cold through the fabric of your dress, and you breathe—once, twice—willing the sting behind your eyes to retreat.
From the dining hall, muffled but unmistakable, you hear your mother's voice: "Are you satisfied now?"
And Sukuna's reply, quieter than you have ever heard him: "She needed to hear it."
The smell of jasmine and dusty books wafts through the air as bookshelves surround you. It seems to be a recurring manner of yours to be going to your host’s libraries as you take a book from the shelves.
You wander through the shelves and, with the corner of your eye, notice a book Sukuna had mentioned once. Despite your current animosity at the man, you go and grab the copy of The Mysteries of Udolpho, the spine slightly cracked and weathered at the edges.
The dust simmers in the air, almost sparking through the moonlight peeking in. You settle down on a reading chair, with a candle lamp burning fragrantly. For the first time this evening, your shoulders loosen and you thumb the pages of the book.
Suddenly, you hear the shuffle of footsteps walking slowly towards your direction. You are much too wearied from the course of events of the evening, however, to be truly alarmed. Instead, you continue reading from The Mysteries of Udolpho in the hopes that the impending intruder passes you by.
You turn a page. Emily is now alone in a castle she did not choose with people whose intention she cannot parse.
The sound gets closer and closer. It stops. Then a “Miss Itadori, I didn’t know you had such a palate for terror.”
You look up to see a somber yet teasing Lord Gojo standing at the edge of the bookshelf, half in moonlight and half in shadow, his cravat loosened just slightly—as though he, too, had been slowly shedding the evening.
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a/n sooo....ahahah hi guyhs :3 being a uni student is so hard and had me busier than expected :( however i am j*bless this summer so i will be writing more and (hopefully) finishing the bridgerton series. i missed you all so much and i was really really missing writing and being a whole human being w hobbies. that being said i do have an exciting update!!!!
soooo i'm thinking of starting commissions/some paid membership stuff/a ko-fi. i am a broke college student and i think if anyone with a big heart (and wallet) would love to support me and my writing, i would soso appreciative.
i plan on offering "membership" tiers. i.e. those who join as members would get my writing 1-2 weeks to a month before it gets posted on here. i also plan on having exclusive content solely released to those who are members as well as more say on what i get to write next. let me know what you guys think! i don't plan on posting any differently on my main tho, just more perks for anyone who chooses to support me :3
that being said if u r broke i hear u so relatable i love u still. i will make sure you are not starved for content <3
ok anyways will be answering asks and posting more on what i'm writing / prioritizing on the feed. keep an eye for my ko-fi and thank you to ml mr.pati @herfudanshipati for beta-reading this chapter :333
choso in the carriage ride back
no more to say keep an eye on the updates. i missed you guys so much and am so excited to read the reblogs and comments and asks teeeheee
summary: azriel is very experienced in the romance department and you're not. well, that is until you're introduced to the world of nesta's favorite book genre and everything changes.
warnings: horny!az x innocent!reader!!!, shadow bondage, praise kink, PIV, mentions of smutty books, mentions of nessian’s unintentional exhibitionism, size kink/big dick az, overstimulation, orgasm denial
word count: 6.1k
Curled up on the loveseat next to the fireplace at the far end of your reading room at the House of Wind, you’re too entranced by the book in front of you to notice the two Illyrians who sneak in.
It isn’t until a shadow swirls around your wrist that you’re broken from your trance, which is quickly followed by the book in your hands being snatched up quickly.
“Hey!” you cry out with a frown as your eyes finally come up to meet your mate’s as he stands in front of you next to Cassian, as he smirks down at the book he stole from your grasp. “I just got to the best part.”
“Ohh, are they about to fuck?” Cassian chuckles, snatching the book from Azriel’s hand to skim the page you’re on.
“N—No,” you say sheepishly with a furrowed brow, sitting up quickly as your cheeks flush red at his question. “They just admitted their feelings for each other and kissed.”
Cassian frowns over at you as he finishes reading the page, visibly disappointed by the lack of steaminess in your book. “You’re a very different reader than Nes is.” he remarks, handing you the book once again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you question innocently.
“I mean, the books she reads…they’re very detailed if you know what I mean.” the male retorts with a smirk, “They really get her going, and I thank the Cauldron for them every day.”
You open your mouth to ask him more, but your mate plopping down next to you on the loveseat stops you in your tracks.
“Ignore him, sweetheart.” he says softly, pulling your legs into his lap as he massages your calves gently. “He’s being crude.”
“Yeah, sure.” Cassian chuckles, grinning wildly. “If you really wanna know about them, you can ask Nesta. She’d be happy to introduce you to the world of highly inappropriate books anytime.”
Azriel shoots Cassian a warning glare as your blush deepens, your eyes wide with curiosity as the male throws his hands up in defeat before retreating from the room. Before you can say anything on the matter, Azriel reaches a hand up to stroke your cheek, leaning over to kiss your forehead simultaneously.
“Did you have a good day, love?” he says in a quiet voice to change the subject, thumb running along your cheek while smiling at you.
“Pretty good,” you mumble, forgetting about your book once more in favor of climbing up into your mate’s lap. “Just spent most of the day reading and napping by the fire.”
“Hmm, just pretty good? That sounds like your idea of a perfect day.” he hums against the soft skin of your neck, trailing kisses along the smooth expanse.
“I am on my second book of the day, so it’s been pretty successful if I do say so myself.” you giggle, running your hands through his hair while leaning into his touch. His hand running along your thigh, toying with the hem of your dress makes you shiver, your hips involuntarily leaning into his as you do. “H—How was your day?” you question, trying to ignore how flustered he makes you feel.
“Boring, I missed you too much.” he murmurs shortly, breathing in your scent as he leans in to nip at your neck, his hands holding your hips in place when you unconsciously grind yours against his. “Thought about coming home and spending all day with you instead of being stuck in Windhaven.”
You giggle when his teeth graze your neck, skin heating as drinks you in. “Missed you too, Azzy.” you say quietly while reaching for his face, your hand hooking under his chin to pull his lips away from your neck and up to your own.
Your lips are plush and warm against his as you run your fingers through his hair. A small whimper sounds as he tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth, surprised by the eagerness from the male. The tiny noise is enough to drive Azriel wild, but he controls himself for your sake. He wants nothing more than to rip the little sage cotton dress you’re wearing to shreds and pull you onto his cock, to have you ride his length until you’re a crying mess, but he makes no such advances.
Though the two of you have been mated for over three years now, you’re still as shy as the day he met you, still just as meek when it comes to sex as you were on the day he first kissed you. Sure, you’d bedded males prior to being with Azriel, but you’d never actually been with someone who took the time to make sure you were taken care of first. You’d never even experienced an orgasm before being with him, so the world of sex was essentially brand new once you’d accepted the bond. Azriel was worlds more experienced than you and you knew it, but he never minded taking things slow, not with you. He enjoyed taking his time and taking in every single inch of you, enjoyed making sure you were satisfied and drawing those sweet little sounds out of your pretty little lips when you’d cum for him.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about doing more for your mate, you knew he was always holding back with you, knew he was treating you like a fragile doll that was ready to break. You’d been fine with that for quite a while, but things had changed recently. Within the last few weeks, you’d craved more and more from him, craved the rough touch and sharp tongue you knew were hidden behind that sweet facade he always put on for you. You didn’t want him to hold back anymore. But in all reality, you didn’t know how to reciprocate and make things interesting for him, so you stuck with your simple, basic manners of affection for now.
You’re pulled from your thoughts when one of Azriel’s hands snakes from your waist towards your breast, groping at it through the thin cloth of your dress. You gasp against his lips and he chuckles, thumb rolling along your pebbled nipple gently.
“A–Az…” you mutter as you pull away from the kiss, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of maroon, “We–We can’t, not in here…”
As much as you wanted to, you’d never done anything like this in any place other than in your shared bed. You’d be downright embarrassed if someone caught you in such a public place…that was the fuzzy feeling in your chest that you were feeling right now, embarrassment, wasn’t it?
“Hmm, why not?” he says, feigning a frown as he peers at you with darkening hazel eyes, “It is your reading room, after all. You should be able to do whatever you want in your own room.”
Azriel typically stopped as soon as you expressed your apprehension to him, but he could feel the heat radiating from your body, could smell the arousal on you as he teased you. He knew you well, he knew you wanted this just as much as him.
“Az,” you say with a breathless giggle, burying your face in his shoulder as he tries to coax it out of you.
“What love?” he coos, gently angling his hips up into yours to earn a strained moan from you, “Just tell me what you want. We can do whatever you want.”
Before you can even think about what you really want, there’s a harsh knock against the threshold of the open door. “Dinner, lovebirds.” Nesta says bluntly, walking past the room without another word.
There’s still the ghost of a smirk on Azriel’s lips as you look up at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you think about even getting caught in your mate’s lap in the reading room. He leans over then to kiss you quickly before pulling the two of you to your feet, shadows smoothing out the skirts of your dress as his fingers intertwine with yours.
“We’ll finish this conversation later, hmm?” he murmurs, smiling down at you sweetly as you nod feverishly, trying to compose yourself before making your way downstairs.
_______________________________
You decide to change up your lounging location the next day, opting to read in the drawing room of the House of Wind instead of your private quarters, in hopes that you’ll get the courage to stop Nesta if she makes her way downstairs.
If you were being honest, you hadn’t stopped thinking about Cassian’s suggestion from the day before, about him telling you to ask his mate about the world of highly inappropriate books.
Sure, the books you read were fun, but from the looks of it, the books that Nesta read were highly influential in her love life, and Cassian definitely benefited from her reading them. The thought of the time you’d accidentally walked into the kitchen one evening for a midnight snack and had actually run into the two of them tangled in each other came to your mind when you thought of it. How Cassian had Nesta bent over the kitchen island, one large hand gripping the meat of her ass while the other was snaked around her neck as he pounded into her mercilessly from behind. How you remembered him muttering extremely foul words in her ear, mumbling about ‘Is this how they did it in the book, huh? Is this how you wanted me?’.
You thanked the Cauldron that neither of them had seen you that night, and that you were able to slip out of the room before you were heard. But that didn’t mean that the vision wasn’t etched into your brain and didn’t replay in your thoughts every once in a while.
Luckily for you, Nesta did decide to make her way to the drawing room in the early afternoon, a handful of her infamous books in hand. She silently sits on the loveseat opposite to you, offering you company in your reading time.
“I’ve never seen you reading down here,” she remarks bluntly before opening one of her books, raising her brow at you when you give her a shy smile.
“I just thought I’d switch it up today, I’ve been cooped up in my reading room for a while.” you say as nonchalantly as possible, though it’s not a complete lie, you had been meaning to find a new reading spot for a few weeks now.
Nesta sees right through the thinly-veiled half lie, a smirk playing on her lips. It’s then that you know that Cassian definitely told her about your reaction to his suggestion.
“Are you sure that’s all? You sure you weren’t waiting for me to come downstairs too?” she implores, sharp eyes honed in on your wide ones. “A little bat might’ve told me that you’re potentially interested in some…new reading material.”
You flush at her words, cheeks hot as she gives you a knowing smirk. Your silence is enough for her to know your true answer, so she takes the opportunity to extend two of the books to you. Hesitantly, you take them, placing them in your lap as you study the titles–Fire and Desire and Cloaked in Shadows–before looking back up at her. Nesta looks at you expectantly, as if she’s waiting for you to open them and test the waters.
You carefully open Fire and Desire to a random page, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the words.
“Gods, look at that,” Manon moaned, sharp nails trailing along the swell of her new pet’s peaked nipple, “look how well you take my fingers, such a needy slut.”
The girl whines desperately, bucking her hips wildly as Manon adds another finger and circles her clit with her thumb. The witch kisses down her neck, leaving bruising marks along the exposed skin so everyone knows she’s hers, that she’s theirs.
“P–Please, Masters, I’m so–so close.” she begs, eyes welling up with tears as she stares at the witch; she’s desperate for release, but she can’t get there until they say so.
“What do you think, princeling?” Manon says in a teasing tone after feigning contemplation, fingers never relenting in the female’s dripping cunt.
Dorian stands behind the females, a smirk on his lips as he watches, hands falling onto the girls’ hips to press his ever-hard length against her. A half-surprised gasp falls from her lips when the prince’s hand grips her throat, squeezing lightly as she grinds back against his cock.
“I think she’s earned her right to cum, but, not just yet.” he says with a smirk, Manon grins wickedly at him as his free hand travels to the girl’s ass, “I think I want her to cum while you continue to finger her sweet cunt and I’ll take her in the ass–”
“Oh–that one’s mine.” Nesta’s words pull you from your trance, snatching the book from your hands hastily. “Sorry, I meant to give you this one instead.” she says with a wry chuckle, handing you another one called The Archer’s Attraction. “That one and Cloaked in Shadows are much more beginner friendly. Still very heated, but much better for your tastes.”
You’re almost too flustered to open the other books, but your interest is well past piqued now. So, you opt to flip to a random page of The Archer’s Attraction to see if this one is any better.
Luna is straddling Enos’ chest, hips bucking in overstimulation as he tugs her further and further up his body until she’s hovering over his mouth. His tongue lashes out then, licking a stripe up her core to make her shout in pleasure. He smirks up at her, lips glistening with her arousal as his fingers slide through her folds to lazily pump into her.
Tears shine in her eyes as she tries to free her hands that are bound behind her back, writhing under his touch.
“I know, I know it, sweetheart.” he coos condescendingly, rubbing soothing circles on her hip as she quietly begs for him to let up. “Is it too much? The little slut can’t take it anymore?”
She thinks for a moment, silent turmoil in her mind as she thinks through her next words. She wants nothing more than for him to keep going, but she needs his cock more than anything. Needs him to pound into her and take full control, she needs more than his tongue and his fingers.
“N–Need you, Enos.” she whines, pouting down at the dark-eyed male.
“Has your brain gone to mush with just two orgasms?” he chuckles, “ Silly little girl, you have me right here, and I’ll give you what you want after I take what I want from you, okay?”
Luna nods quickly, hips jerking when his fingers begin their slow attack on her core.
“Good girl, now sit on my face and cum one more time and I’ll give you my cock.”
You can feel Nesta’s smirk before you even look up from the novel, all too aware of the tiniest gasp you let out upon reading the last sentence. This time, the gasp wasn’t from true shock, but from intrigue instead.
“Is that one more your speed?” she laughs as you close the book, you meekly nod at the female, “Well good, it’s yours to keep if you want it. Read away, I’m sure Az will be more than happy to oblige if you find anything you enjoy in there.”
Nesta immediately turns back to her own book, leaving you to read in silence next to her. Instead of asking one of the million questions you have floating through your mind at the moment, you decide to open The Archer’s Attraction to the first page and begin reading. You’re almost immediately hooked, the romance and tension between the two main characters draws your hopeless romantic heart in as soon as you’re through the first chapter.
There’s definitely not a lack of heated scenes throughout the book, and each one leaves you with blushed cheeks and an ache in your stomach. The dominant personality of the male, Enos, is what really gets you, though. Each scene with him and Luna has you desperate for more of his foul mouth. Your mind races as you think of what it would be like for Azriel to talk to you like that, to let him take control and let him degrade you if he wants to.
The majority of the day slips away from you quickly as you finish the book at record speed, desperate to feed the burning desire in the pit of your stomach with each turning page.
By the time you reach the last page, the sun is low in the sky and the drawing room is dimly lit only by fae lights littered around the ceiling. Nesta is still deeply engrossed in her own book on the opposite couch when you look up, but looks up soon after with a knowing grin.
“How was it?” she questions with a raised brow, shutting her own book after stuffing the bookmark in.
“So good,” you giggle, setting The Archer’s Attraction on the table next to her other books.
“Oh, keep it. Re-read it as many times as you’d like.” she offers with a smirk. “And if you grow tired of those two in the next day or need some more inspiration, my personal library is open to you at any time. You know where to find it.”
You smile at the silver-eyed woman while mumbling a thanks to her, and she actually shoots you a genuine smile in return before turning back to her own book.
You excuse yourself quietly after that, slipping from the drawing room to make your way up to your bedroom with your new books in hand. Your body feels like it’s on fire as you set the books down on your bedside, mind racing as you think about all of the new and exciting things you want to try with your mate.
To distract yourself while you wait for him to return, you nearly float into the en-suite bathroom to prepare for bed. Excitement flows through you while you brush your hair and clean up. At some point during your flurry of emotions, you inevitably tug on that bond connecting your soul to Azriel’s, and he in turn tugs back as you’ve finished changing into your favorite silk slip and are curling up under the covers.
One of his shadows slithers into the bedroom then, snaking up your arm and toward your ear. Home late, trouble in Autumn. Don’t wait up, the shadow whispers to you. Your excitement stills then, sadness replacing the warmth in your chest since he won’t be home for quite a while.
You know to heed the shadow’s warning and decide not to wait up for him, knowing he might not even be home until dawn if things go awry with Beron. So, you nestle into the blankets and try your best not to think about the arousal swirling in your stomach as you attempt to fall asleep.
_______________________________
Moonlight filters in through the window as you feel the bed dip behind you, a sign that your beloved mate is finally home. You aren’t sure if what time it is, but know it’s sometime in the dead of night when you peer outside. An arm snakes around your waist slowly then and you groan lightly, rolling over in Azriel’s arms to face him.
He frowns down at you then as your tired eyes begin to flutter open, obviously disappointed in himself for not being able to sneak in successfully without waking you.
“Az…” you mumble, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek gently.
“Shh, sweetheart. I’m sorry I woke you.” he coos, his own hand resting on the curve of your hip as you inch closer to him. “Go back to sleep, love.”
You only whine in protest then, becoming all too aware of the pit of arousal that’s been brewing in your gut since the morning. Your arms weakly push at him and he chuckles quietly, adjusting to where he’s laying flat on his back for you. It’s not an unusual sleepy request from you, as you often sleep on top of the large male’s chest when you’ve missed him.
You don’t lazily flop down on his chest like you usually do, though. Instead, you straddle his hips and pull yourself up to his lips, kissing him slowly. Azriel’s brow furrows as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the tired kiss without a word of explanation. Your hips are pressed firmly against his as you grind into him, making the male grunt in surprise at the feeling.
“Sweetness, what are you doing?” he murmurs against your lips, hands falling subconsciously onto your hips to keep you in place on his lap.
“Need you, Az.” you almost whimper as your hands snake towards the waistband of his boxers. It’s in this moment that you thank the Cauldron that he doesn’t like to sleep in anything other than underwear.
“Need me?” he questions, one side of his mouth quirking up in a smirk as you sit yourself up to look at him properly, waiting for his approval before hastily tugging his boxers off. The look in your eyes is tired but desperate, one he hasn’t seen from you in a while. He can smell the arousal swirling around you as you stare down at him, your lips pulling into the slightest pout as you nod. “Alright, I guess I can’t say no to that when I left you alone all night.”
Your eyes flicker with excitement as he speaks, need roiling deep within your stomach again. He grips your hips more firmly then, attempting to roll you off of him so he can put you onto the bed underneath him, but you don’t budge. He raises a brow at you, but doesn’t protest as he watches closely as your hands finally push the waistband of his boxers down enough to free his cock. In your time mated to the male, you’d never been on top, never ridden him before. You’d always been afraid that the new position might hurt, that you might fuck something up. But after reading about it, you couldn’t get the image of riding his cock out of your mind, feeling so full of him as you cry out his name, it’s the only thing in your brain. You need this.
Azriel props himself up on his elbows while you stare down at his cock, eyes wide with need as you fist the length slowly. You’ve always struggled to take his full, thick length, so you know it’s going to be a challenge to ride him, but you’re up for it.
“Let me get you prepped first, sweetheart.” he suggests, knowing the inner turmoil in your eyes too well.
You shake your head adamantly at his words, pouting up at him. “Need you now, Az.” you retort, essentially begging to ride him as you continue to stroke his hard cock.
“Are you sure you want it like this?” He questions, groaning when you squeeze the length perfectly in response before nodding weakly at you before moving to sit up slowly. “Let me at least help you then, okay?” he says, adjusting the two of you so you’d be able to easily slide down on his length while using his upper body to balance, his back resting against the headboard.
You’re silent as Azriel guides you back onto his lap, watching closely as you grip his cock to line it up with your core. You look up at him when you slide the tip between your dripping folds, revelling in the way he nearly growls when you tease him. A small, yet devious smile is on your face before you begin to sink onto his length, gasping as he fills you perfectly.
“Fuck, sweetheart.” Azriel grunts, hands holding your hips like a vice as he slowly pushes you down onto him. “That’s it, love. Fuck, you feel so good.”
It takes almost a full minute for you to get fully sheathed onto his large cock, tears pricking your eyes as you bottom out, feeling so fucking full but so fucking good.
“Hey, hey,” he says quickly when he notices the tears in the corners of your eyes, hands falling from your hips to cup your cheeks as he frowns, “are you okay, sweetness? Is it too much?”
“N–No,” you say firmly, raising your hips slowly to ride his length. “It—I feel so full. It feels so—so good.”
Azriel watches you with wonder-filled eyes as you start to bounce on his lap, unable to hold back the moans that fall from your lips as you do. He’s quick to wonder what’s gotten into you, what made you so needy today while he was gone. But he doesn’t dare to ask in case he ruins the moment. He lets you take the lead, enjoying the view.
“So tight, sweetheart. Your sweet cunt feels so good, squeezing my cock so perfectly.” he praises in a low voice, eyes clouded with lust as his hands wander over your body slowly.
Your glassy, tear-brimmed eyes light up at his praise, as if his words spur you on even more, and you speed up your hips. You look down between your bodies, core clenching as you watch Azriel’s cock sliding into you easily with every bound. As you stare, his hand comes into view as it slides between your legs, finding your clit with ease to heighten your pleasure. A hedonistic sob leaves your lips then, making Azriel chuckle at your reaction.
“G—Gods, Az.” you whimper, whipping your head up to look at him again, noting how his hazel eyes have gone nearly black with lust. “F—Feels so good. Wanna—Wanna cum on your cock like this.”
A smirk passes over Azriel’s face as you continue to whine and buck your hips frantically, watching you with rapt fascination. He’s never seen you act like this in your time together, and he’s especially shocked that you all but pounced on him as soon as he entered the room this evening.
“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” he says experimentally in a low voice, watching your face for your reaction. His words seem to spur you on even more, you grip his shoulders like a vice as you pick up your pace on his length, babbling under your breath in between moans.
“Look at you, riding my cock so well. Should’ve had you do this a long time ago, sweetness.” he praises, continuing his assault on your clit as you stare at him with wide, glassy eyes. “You gonna cum on my cock like this, sweetheart? Gonna be a good slut and take my cum?”
Your hips stutter almost imperceptibly before picking back up again, shocked by his foul words and the way they make your stomach churn with desire.
“Y–Yes, want you to fill me up, Az.” you whine.
“Keep riding me like this and I’ll fill you up soon enough, love.” he mumbles with a smirk while moving his hands to grip your waist, guiding you to move even quicker up and down his length.
You whimper at the loss of pressure on your clit, but a gasp of surprise falls from your lips when you feel a cold, wispy tendril make its way to your core to replace its master’s fingers. Your heart races as you look down to see shadows snaking around your midsection and between your thighs, focusing on your clit as Azriel pulls you down onto his cock frantically. He’d never let his shadows participate in the bedroom with you, so the sudden sensation is enough to send you tumbling straight to the edge.
“That’s it, sweetness.” Az groans, a smirk plastered on his face as he stares at you, “Such a good girl, so tight around my cock. I know you’re close, love, go ahead and make a mess of my cock.”
His words of praise are your undoing, finally letting the pleasure roiling in your gut come to a head. You let out a loud shout of pleasure as your walls flutter around his cock, hips stuttering as Azriel continues to guide you along his length. The male continues to murmur words of praise as you come down from your high, refusing to let you out of his grip as you squirm against him.
“Just a little longer, love.” he coos as he watches you writhe in his lap. “Just–Just give me a second and I’ll give you what you need from me.”
Your eyes are wide and brimming with tears of pleasure as you stare at your mate, watching as something animalistic takes over as he adjusts you on top of him. He situates you to where you don’t have to move up and down anymore, opting to thrust up into your dripping cunt to reach his own high. One of his hands reaches for your clit once more, rubbing tight circles against it as he holds you in place with his other hand. You try to squirm out of his touch then, overstimulation sending a jolt of electricity to your core, but his firm grip doesn’t let you budge.
“A–Az!” you cry out, taking in the details of his face as he stares at you with lust-filled eyes. “I–I can’t.”
“Do you want my cum, sweetness?” he questions, never breaking as he searches your eyes for any sign of true hesitation but finding none when you nod at him quickly. “Then you’ll take what I give you and cum with me like a good little girl, alright?”
You’d truly made something snap within Azriel by riding him tonight, forever changing your dynamic for the better it seemed. The look in his eyes is domineering but still filled with awe, watching as you nod feverishly at his request. A deep chuckle falls from his lips and arousal swirls in your stomach all over again.
“C’mon, sweetheart.” he coaxes, pressing his fingers into your clit again, “I know you’re close again, so cum with me, baby.”
A loud shout of pleasure falls from your lips as the first wave of your second orgasm washes over you, while Azriel shudders beneath you. His grip on your waist forces you down finally, fully sheathed on his length as his release coats your fluttering walls.
“Good girl, that’s it, take everything I give you.” Azriel praises, pupils blown as he stares at you intently, taking in every detail of your pleasure-filled expression. “Such a good girl for me.”
Once his grip on your waist loosens, you collapse onto Azriel’s chest with a loud whimper. He continues to coo in your ear as you come down from your high, his hands rubbing soothing circles along your back as you fight sleep on top of him.
You don’t know how long it’s truly been when your eyes flutter open again, but you’re no longer in your mate’s lap, but lying face down on the bed as he runs a wet cloth between your thighs to clean you up while continuing to murmur praises to you. He slides into the bed next to you after finishing his cleanup, pulling you against his side when he sees you look up at him.
“Hi,” he says in a low voice, one hand coming up to smooth your hair down.
“Hi,” you reply softly, nuzzling into his side.
“Wanna talk about what just happened?” he suggests, a small smirk playing on his lips.
“No, not tonight.” you giggle, a blissful smile on your lips as you rest your head on his chest and let your eyes flutter closed. “That’s a conversation for another time when I’m not out of it like I am right now.”
“Alright, love.” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Rest up.”
_______________________________
Everything about your relationship with Azriel changes after that night, and it’s definitely for the better.
You become damn near insatiable, which makes sense considering you’ve continued to read Nesta’s books instead of your own for the entire week. Every book inspires you to try something new with your mate, who never complains, only takes it in stride as he watches you turn into someone just as horny as him.
Azriel has never experienced anything like this sudden switch-up in his five hundred years, but he definitely cannot complain.
He’s gotten to fuck you in the shower, pounded into you while you bent over the arm of the chaise in your reading room, ate you out on the kitchen counter in the middle of the night, fingered you at the dining table on an evening that it was only you two, and even had you crawl under his desk to cockwarm him with your sweet mouth while he was working late one night.
To say he’s been pleasantly surprised by your eagerness would be an understatement, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t questioned the reasoning behind it at all. The question has been eating away at him slowly, but he hasn’t found the perfect time to ask until right now.
Currently, you’re laying in your shared bed, hands bound behind your back with shadows as your face is buried in the sheets, your ass in the air as he stands behind you.
Azriel has been edging you for a good hour at this point, but only because you asked him to, you wanted to try it out.
Your thighs are shaking, tears brimming in your eyes as you crane your neck to look at the male behind you. His eyes are dark with lust as he looks down at you, a smirk playing on his lips while one hand reaches for your core, fingers swirling against your clit at an agonizingly slow pace.
“A–Az,” you whimper, trembling under his touch, “P–Please, I–I need to–to cum, please.”
“Yeah? My little slut has had enough?” he coos in a demeaning tone, chuckling darkly as you nod feverishly at him. “Alright, you poor thing. I’ll let you cum on my cock if you tell me something, okay?”
You nod again, eager to do anything to please your mate now. You look at him expectantly with wide, glassy eyes, waiting for his question.
“What’s made you so insatiable this week, huh?” Azriel questions in a low voice, sliding two fingers into your heat with ease while twisting his hand so his thumb can stroke your clit. “What’s gotten into you? Last week, you were my shy sweetheart, but you’ve turned into a horny little bunny this week. What changed, sweetness?”
“I–I, fuck.” you whine, hips bucking involuntarily as you squeeze your eyes shut to focus on anything other than Azriel’s fingers pumping into you. “I–I started reading some of Nesta’s b–books and got–got inspired.”
“Is that so?” he chuckles, his fingers coming to a halt buried deep in your cunt makes you cry out in frustration. “Have I helped you fulfill your fantasies about some of those horny little scenes you’ve been reading about?”
“Y–Yes!” you whine, pressing your hips into his hand as he stays still behind you. “Y–You definitely have.”
“Next time, I’ll have to have you read your favorite scenes to me and see how well I can help recreate them for you, yeah?” he teases, finally pulling his fingers from your heat as he positions himself between your thighs, “But right now, I think you’ve been teased enough and deserve your reward. Cum on my cock whenever you’re ready, sweetness.”
A sob falls from your lips as his cock finally nudges into you, your whole body shaking from the pent-up pleasure. You nearly black out when he bottoms out, one hand snaking around to tease your clit as you cry beneath him.
It doesn’t take you long to reach your high, especially after being teased mercilessly for over an hour now. Your walls flutter around his cock, making Azriel groan, following close behind you in his own release, being so turned on by the process of edging you that it takes him all of ten strokes with you milking his cock to coat your walls with his cum.
“F–Fuck, sweetheart.” he groans as you both come down from your high, pulling out of you slowly as you all but collapse onto the bed when his shadows release you from their hold. “Who would’ve thought you being my little bookworm would pay off so well?”
A small giggle falls from your lips as he leans down to kiss your cheek.
“There’s plenty more where this came from, don’t worry.” you say tiredly as he pulls you into his chest and peppers your face with kisses.
satoru gojo eats you out until he falls asleep / 0.3k
cw: 18+ mdni gojo is pussy-drunk, oral (f!reader receiving), no use of y/n, fluff
m.list
he’s nestled between your legs, his head slightly resting on your thigh, tongue swirling over your swollen clit. he’s been at this for god knows how long already—licking and suckling on your clit like it was his lifeline.
you were exhausted from the many orgasms he managed to pull from you.
“just one more, baby,” he pleaded, voice low and a little wrecked, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your thighs. “can you do that for me?"
you nodded, and his lips closed around your clit. you moaned breathlessly, back arching slightly off his bed. you dared a glance down at him and your cunt clenched around nothing.
the sight of him alone almost sent you barreling over the edge. his cheeks were glistening with your slick, white hair completely tousled and messy from how hard you’d been pulling on it, those brilliant blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded, lashes fluttering like he was fighting sleep just to keep tasting you.
“satoru,” you whine, reaching down to grab his hand. he takes hold of it immediately, giving you a gentle squeeze, thumb brushing over your knuckles.
his eyes slip shut as he loses himself in the taste of you. lips still working against your clit, slow and indulgent.
slower. slower. slower.
he’s barely tracing the tip of his tongue through your folds now, movements lazy and dreamy, those long white lashes resting against his flushed cheeks. his breathing has gone deep and even, warm puffs of air against your over-sensitive skin.
you were having an even harder time keeping your own eyes open, but you couldn’t fight it off any longer. you fell asleep with satoru sound asleep against the plush of your thighs, his tongue still pressed soft and warm to your clit, his hand still entwined with yours.
Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for centuries.
So when he found someone new, a female named Selene, you wanted to be happy for him. But something felt… off. And when you finally voiced your concerns, it didn’t go the way you expected.
An emotional argument. A messy fallout. And now, Azriel is doing everything he can to make things right. But something between you has changed—something unspoken and impossible to ignore.
Overview: friends to lovers, miscommunication trope, some grudge holding and petty remarks, angst , groveling az, some serious yearning and longing, inner circle & friendship dynamics. HEA! check specific part warnings for more!
♥︎ Part One ┃5k
Worried about how his new relationship seems to be changing him, you talk to Azriel about your concerns. Things take a turn when he refuses to listen.
♥︎ Part Two┃5.2k
You and Azriel are struggling with the aftermath of your heated argument. Unfortunately, you both cope in very different ways.
♥︎ Part Three┃8.5k
Azriel’s attempts at an apology fall short, Cassian’s advice backfires, and confrontations force both you and Azriel to face uncomfortable truths—though not the same ones.
♥︎ Part Four┃7.3k+
You navigate the aftermath of your confrontation. Azriel takes his first steps toward making things right.
♥︎ Part Five┃7k
A chance encounter offers a break from your tangled thoughts about Azriel. Meanwhile, Az reaches a pivotal realization.
♥︎ Part Six┃12.6k
The night of the gratitude banquet arrives. Your life will never be the same after it.
