helloooo i literally ADOREEE your writing and have read ALL of your jjk works istg!!! i was wondering if you had any recs for any series? ive been in a slump lately and i rlly wanna read some new fics but cant find any :((
oh i gotchu. all of these are NSFW (unless otherwise indicated), well written, and untragic ending (uhhh unless i remember wrong, some of these i read a long time ago) because i'm picky and a pussy.
completed
gojo satoru
convergence theory (ao3)
canon au, marriage of convenience au. tension is well written, and gojo is a little shit lke he would be in canon. beautiful and yummy characterization of him as the complex character he is.
shame on me by @starmapz
canon au. i love how gojo is written, and i love trish's writing style, lol. reader has a curse inside her, like sukuna is inside yuji, and gojo comes to take her to jjt. it's very well written the yearning >
games and matches by @lostfracturess
modern au, dad's best friend au. AHHH HE'S SOSOSO FINE IN THIS like i need him so bad. i just love reader's inner conflict and also the drama. i need dilf gojo <3
pandora's box by @c0pkiller
priest au. it's just so interesting to see them battle their impulses and what their religion has told them to do. the pining is chef's kiss, and satoru is realllyyy sweet in this one. i didn't know what to expect when i was reading it but wow it was very, very well written.
moonlight (ao3)
canon au, mating bond au. sort of omega verse but not really. the sexual tension is INSANE and it's genuinely so well written. the angst is delicious and the comfort that follows is even more delicious.
family formation by @dellalyra
found family au in canon universe. i love this one, super fluffy and well written. it's super domestic, and very comforting. i love gojo (as a father and daddy :p)
ukiyo (ao3)
secret marriage au in canon. super flufy as well baha gojo is adorbs :3
baby steps by @lemonlover1110
pregnancy au, and if i remember correctly canon au. the tea in this is crazyyy actually, and i felt the angst as gojo and reader grappled with the pregnancy. i loved the ending, it felt so rewarding <3
nanami kento
inflitration by @pseudowho
canon au, fake marriage au. i loved the pining in this. It had a lot of my favorite tropes, including forced proximity, the classic making out to avoid getting caught, and fake marriage (to overthrow a cult). also haitch writes this man beautifully so ik it was going to a banger
strangers in love by @ayyy-pee
exes to lover au, and the angst hurts really good. they make up very well by the end and i love this series a lottt. lexi writes conflicts out so beautifully, and im so in love. the end had me on my toes but i was so glad nanami pulled thru <3
your best friend's brother by @delirious-donna
modern au, best friend's brother au. the humor is done amazingly well, and their writing style is amazing. The sexual tension is actually INSANE there were times I was screaming at them to fuck because of the chemistry they had :3
toji fushiguro
unscripted (ao3) by @ryowriten / @kasukuna
modern au, toji's a erotic va in this. ITS SO FUNNy and megumi is super super silly. reader is so me coded (she's a loser basically) and toji is super hot. the sexual tension is amazing and it feels like reading a rom com.
sukuna ryomen
hesitance by @yenayaps
modern au, gym employees au SO FLUFFFYYY READER IS ME. i love sukuna like this, where he's so down bad. the ending is sooo sweeet it'll make you cry
defiance by @yenayaps
heian era au. GRAAHHHHHH THIS ONE WAS SO SWEET IT'S SO CUTE LIKE THE ENDING MADE ME CRY BC IT WAS SO SWEET. everyone needs to read this one, i love heian era aus like this
ongoing (BUT i have very strong faith that they are going to be finished because the authors are active with frequent updates. otherwise i'll kms live on camera)
what you know by @starmapz
sukuna x reader college AU. SUPER self indulgent, sukuna is such a cutie. i would even say found family au because sukuna takes care of his brothers and AHHH IT'S ADORABLEEE <3 it's also really steamy bc sukuna is SO HOT so :333
kickoff by @celestie0
gojo x reader, college AU. oh my god i love this series gojo is so lore accurate if he was a college student in 2024. he's just ughhhh so well written you will have such a crush on him. also reader is a baddie too what can i say
in holy matrimony by @celestie0
gojo x reader, modern au, fake marriage au. the banter in this is BEAUTIFUL it's so fucking funny. it's sort of like a rom com, and the angst is just written so beautifully. reader is just a girl :(
motherhood and matrimony by @alygator77
gojo x reader, fake marriage au ceo au. AHH THIS FIC IS MY GUILTY PLEASURE. please im always on my toes with this one, reader's a single mom and her son's interaction w gojo are sooo cute. gojo best dad :(
controller by @yenayaps
sukuna x reader, ceo au. i haven't gotten the chance to fully read this one but WOW seeing the tags + knowing how sienna writes this is gonna be FIRE
angels in the snow (ao3)
nanami x reader, strangers to lovers. don't be afraid to pick this one up just because it's ongoing, you'll feel very satisfied because it feels like a collection (and has 52 chapters already) than an incomplete series. nanami and reader meet at an airport and have to drive home together bc their flight gets canceled. the progression of their relationship is so sweet, and he's suchhh a green flag. very comfy <3
⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ! | okay first off, WHY is this SO FUCKIN EMOTIONAL for no absolute reason. damn. consider this a 1000 follower special! likes & reblogs are appreciated! 𖹭
[𝜗ৎ] 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : 2.9𝗄
𝓜𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏!
my husband hates me.
the thought settles deep in your chest like a stone, familiar and heavy, as you lie on the silk sheets of the massive bed.
your fingers trace the embroidered patterns on your robe—some floral design you can't see but can feel beneath your fingertips. the fabric is soft, expensive. everything here is expensive. everything here screams luxury and power and wealth.
but none of it screams love.
you hear nothing from his side of the bed.
the man is so impossibly quiet, it makes your skin prickle with unease. you've been here for three months now. three months as the wife of ryomen sukuna, the king of curses, the most feared ruler in all the lands. and in those three months, he has barely spoken a word to you.
at first, you thought it was a game.
some twisted test of patience. you were clever enough to know that political marriages were rarely about love. you'd been prepared for indifference, for coldness, for a husband who saw you as nothing more than a strategic alliance.
but this? this silent treatment that stretches night after night, this deliberate distance he keeps?
it cuts deeper than you expected.
your hand moves from your robe to your stomach, pressing against the plane of your belly. you're small. you know this. delicate in a way that makes people underestimate you. and blind. gods, the blindness. the one thing that has sent every single suitor running in the opposite direction.
princes would see your face first—the one they called ethereal, otherworldly, beautiful in a way that seemed impossible—and they'd fall to their knees.
they'd whisper sweet words, promises of devotion, declarations of love at first sight. and then you'd speak, and they'd realize your eyes didn't track their movements, didn't meet their gaze. and slowly, painfully, you'd listen to them pull away. hear the hesitation creep into their voices. feel the distance grow until they were gone.
you were used to it.
but sukuna? sukuna had looked at you once, for a single moment, and said yes. the entire empire had been shocked. the king of curses, the ruthless murderer, the emperor who had never shown interest in any woman, accepting a blind bride from a neighboring kingdom? it was scandalous. impossible.
and you'd felt hope.
you hate yourself for that hope now.
because three months of silence have taught you the truth. he doesn't want you. he tolerates you. and honestly? you'd almost prefer cruelty. at least cruelty would be a reaction. at least cruelty would mean he saw you as something worth acknowledging.
but this nothingness? this endless, suffocating nothingness?
it makes you feel like you've already disappeared.
the servants guide you through your days with practiced efficiency. they dress you, feed you, lead you through the palace halls. you've memorized the layout of your chambers, the path to the gardens, the number of steps from your room to the dining hall. you've learned to navigate this world without sight, just as you've always done.
but you can't navigate him.
you don't know where he sits at meals. you don't know if he watches you. you don't know if he even notices when you're in the same room. his presence is a void—a massive, oppressive absence of warmth that you can feel but never touch.
tonight was bad.
you'd been led to the gardens by a new servant, someone who didn't know your habits. she'd taken you left instead of right, and you'd walked straight into a hedge, thorns scratching your calves before she'd yanked you back with a flurry of apologies.
then you'd almost fallen down a staircase—the grand staircase with its uneven steps—your foot catching on the edge, your heart lurching into your throat as you'd pitched forward. a guard caught you just in time.
and the whispers.
you can't see their faces, but you can hear their voices. the concubines. the noblewomen. the servants who think you can't hear them.
"the blind empress."
"does he even notice her?"
"i heard he hasn't touched her once."
"what a waste of a pretty face."
"she must be so lonely."
"she must be so pathetic."
you'd smiled through all of it. kept your head high, your shoulders back, your voice steady. you learned long ago that showing weakness only invites more cruelty. so you'd walked through the halls with your practiced grace, your cane tapping against the marble floors, your face serene.
but inside, you were crumbling.
and now, lying in this massive bed, with your hair spread across a silk pillow and the scent of incense curling through the air, you can feel him beside you. he's so close. you know he's sitting up, his back probably against the headboard, his presence a heavy weight in the darkness.
does he ever sleep?
you've never heard him snore. never heard him shift in his sleep. he's so still, so silent, you sometimes wonder if he's even real.
a long, long time passes. the candles burn down. the incense fades. the night wraps around you like a shroud.
and you can't take it anymore.
"ryomen?"
your voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper. you hate how small you sound. how vulnerable. you'd wanted to sound strong, confident, demanding. instead, you sound like a child calling out in the dark.
silence.
you wait. count your heartbeats. one. two. three. four. five.
just when you're certain he's ignoring you, just when the familiar ache of rejection settles into your chest, a voice cuts through the darkness.
"what."
it's gruff. low. a single word that rumbles through the air like distant thunder. and it's the most he's said to you in days.
you swallow. your throat is dry. your fingers twist in the sheets.
"i...i want to ask you something."
more silence. you can feel him staring at you. you can't see it, but you can feel it—the weight of his gaze, heavy and unreadable.
"ask."
you take a shaky breath. this is it. this is the moment you've been building toward for three months. the question that's been eating you alive, consuming you from the inside out.
"do you hate me?"
the words hang in the air between you. they sound so small. so pathetic. you wish you could take them back, but it's too late. they're out there now, exposed and raw.
"hate you?" his voice is strange. almost...confused?
"because of...because i'm...y'know, blind." the words taste like ash in your mouth. "i know it's...i know i'm not what you expected. i know i'm not the best option. i know i'm—"
"stop."
the word is sharp, and you flinch. your breath catches in your throat. you brace yourself for anger, for cruelty, for him to finally confirm what you've suspected all along.
but instead of harsh words, you feel movement. the bed shifts. his weight moves closer.
and then, without warning, a hand wraps around your waist and pulls.
you let out a frightened shriek as you're yanked from your position, your body colliding with something solid and warm. your hands fly out, grasping at fabric, at skin, at anything. you're on his lap, straddling his thighs, your chest pressed against his. he's so big—so impossibly large—that you feel like a doll in his arms.
"ryomen!" your voice is high, panicked. "what—"
"quiet."
his hand settles on your thigh. it's huge. calloused. rough in a way that sends shivers down your spine. but the touch is gentle. impossibly gentle. he strokes your thigh once, twice, a soothing motion that slowly calms your racing heart.
"you really think," he says slowly, his voice rumbling against your chest, "that i hate you?"
you can't speak. your throat is too tight. you settle for shaking your head against his chest, even though it's a lie.
a low sound escapes him—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh. his hand slides from your thigh to your chin, tilting your face up. his thumb brushes across your lower lip, feather-light.
"open your eyes."
the command catches you off guard. "what?"
"your eyes. open them."
you blink, confused. your eyes are already open. you can't see anything, but they're open. you tell him as much.
"no." his voice is strange. softer. "i mean...look at me."
"i can't see you."
"i know." his thumb traces your jawline. "but i can see you. and i want to see your eyes. please."
please.
the word catches you off guard. the king of curses, saying please? to you?
you don't move. don't breathe. just let him hold your face in his massive hand, his touch devastatingly tender.
"i don't hate you," he says, and his voice cracks on the words. "gods, woman. i could never hate you."
your heart stutters. "then why—"
"because i'm fuckin' terrified."
you blink. "what?"
"do you know what i am?" his hand slides from your face to your hair, fingers threading through the strands. "i'm a killer. i've been killing for centuries. my hands are stained with blood i'll never wash clean. i'm rough, and violent, and i don't know how to be gentle."
"but—"
"but when i saw you..." he trails off. his fingers tighten in your hair, just barely. "when i saw you, i couldn't breathe. you were so beautiful. so small. so... perfect. and i thought, 'she's too good f'me.' , 'i'll break her.' , 'i'll hurt her.'"
his voice drops to a whisper.
"so i stayed away. because every time i look at you, i want to touch you. and every time i touch you, i'm afraid i'll destroy you."
tears prick at your eyes. you don't understand. you can't understand. this entire time, you thought he hated you. you thought he found you repulsive, broken, worthless.
but he was...
...afraid?
"you don't hate me?" you whisper.
"no." his forehead presses against yours. "i love you. i've loved you since the moment i saw you."
a sob escapes your throat. it's ugly and raw and you can't stop it.
"but you never—you never talked to me—"
"because i didn't trust myself." his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. "because i knew if i started, i wouldn't be able to stop."
"then don't stop."
the words leave your mouth before you can think. they hang in the air, bold and desperate.
"don't stop," you repeat. "please. i don't want you to stop."
sukuna goes still. so still that you wonder if he's stopped breathing.
"you don't know what you're asking."
"i do." you reach up, your fingers finding his face. you trace the planes of his cheeks, the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips. "you're my husband. i want you. all of you."
"i'll hurt you."
"i don't care."
"i'll break you."
"i don't care."
his breath hitches. and then, finally, finally, his lips crash against yours.
the kiss is desperate. hungry. it tastes like three months of longing, of confusion, of aching loneliness. his hand fists in your hair, pulling you closer, and you gasp against his mouth. his tongue slides against your lower lip, asking for entry, and you give it willingly.
he tastes like sake and power and something darker. something that makes your toes curl and your heart race.
he pulls back, breathless.
"tell me to stop, and i will."
"don't," you say immediately. "don't stop."
he groans. his hands slide down your back, gripping your hips, and he lays you down on the bed. you fall against the silk sheets, your hair spreading around you like a halo. you can't see him, but you can feel him—his weight on the bed, his heat surrounding you, his breath ghosting across your skin.
"m'gonna show you," he says, his voice low and rough. "m'gonna kiss every inch of your body. gonna taste you until you scream my name. i want to make you feel so good that you forget every single doubt you've ever had about yourself."
your breath catches. "ryomen—"
"let me." his lips brush against your neck. "let me show you how much i love you."
you nod, unable to speak.
his hands find the tie of your robe. he undoes it slowly, reverently, like he's unwrapping a gift he's been waiting centuries to open. the fabric falls away, cool air hitting your skin, and you shiver.
"beautiful," he breathes. "so fucking beautiful."
you feel his lips on your collarbone. soft. worshipful. he kisses down your chest, his tongue tracing a path between your breasts. his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples, and you gasp.
"sensitive," he murmurs. "good. i'll remember that."
he takes one nipple into his mouth. his tongue circles the peak, slow and deliberate, and you arch into him with a desperate moan. he laves at you, sucking gently, nipping with his teeth until you're writhing beneath him.
"more," you gasp. "please—"
"patience." his voice is a dark promise. "i haven't even started with ya' yet."
he switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention. his hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing patterns on your skin, until he reaches the apex of your thighs. you're already wet—embarrassingly wet—and he lets out a low growl when he feels it.
"fuck," he mutters against your skin. "you're soaked. f'me?"
"yes," you whimper. "only you."
he groans. his fingers slide through your folds, collecting your wetness, and you buck into his touch.
"tell me what you want."
"i want—" you gasp as his thumb circles your clit. "m'want your mouth."
his laugh is dark and breathless. "demanding little thing, aren't ya'?"
"please," you beg. "ryo, please—"
"shh." he kisses your stomach. "i'll give ya' what y'want."
he moves down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire. he kisses your hips, your thighs, the inside of your knees. by the time he reaches your core, you're trembling, desperate, aching.
and then his tongue touches you.
you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. he laps at you like a man starved, his tongue sliding through your folds, circling your clit, dipping inside you. he moans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.
"taste s'good," he mutters against your skin. "could eat ya' forever."
he sucks your clit into his mouth, and you scream. your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down, his massive hands gripping your thighs. he alternates between sucking and licking, building a rhythm that has you climbing higher and higher.
"that's it," he praises. "let go f'me...lemme taste ya'."
his fingers find your entrance, sliding inside you without warning. two fingers, thick and long, stretching you. he curls them, hitting a spot that makes you see stars, and you shatter.
you come with a scream of his name, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through you. he doesn't stop. he laps at you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're sobbing from the intensity.
when you finally come down, he crawls up your body, his lips finding yours. you taste yourself on his tongue, and it's the most intimate thing you've ever experienced.
"m-more," you whisper. "m'want more."
his eyes—you can feel them—search your face.
"are you sure? we can stop. we can—"
"i'm sure." you reach for him, your fingers finding his chest. "i want you...please."
he hesitates. you feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint he's barely holding onto.
"m'bigger than ya'," he says, matter of factly. "a lot bigger. and i have...i have two dicks, woman. i don't know if—"
"i don't care." you pull him closer. "i trust you."
he groans, pressing his forehead against yours.
"if it hurts too much, tell me. and i'll stop."
"okay."
"promise me."
"i promise."
he shifts above you, and you feel something heavy and thick press against your thigh. and then another. two cocks. the thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a thrill through your body.
he aligns himself with your entrance, and you feel the tip pressing against you. he's huge—so much bigger than his fingers—and you wonder if you can actually take him.
"relax f'me," he murmurs. "breathe."
you inhale deeply, and he pushes in.
just the tip, and you gasp. he's stretching you in a way that's almost unbearable. it hurts. there's a burning sensation, a pressure that's too much and not enough.
"shh," he soothes. "you're doing s'well. so good f'me."
he pushes deeper, inch by agonizing inch. you feel your body struggling to accommodate him, your walls clenching around his length. and then—
a sharp pain.
fuck...you forgot.
you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. he stops immediately.
"did i hurt ya'?"
you can't answer. the pain is fading, replaced by a strange fullness. you feel something wet trickle down your thigh. warm. sticky.
blood.
his eyes slowly flicker down, and you can hear his breath stop. he's tense. too tense.
"fuck," he hisses. "you're—you're a fuckin' virgin?"
you nod weakly, biting your lip. your heart is pounding fast. loud. "is that...bad?"
"no." his voice is strained. "no, it's not bad. i just—fuck—i didn't know. i would have been more careful, woman."
"you are being careful," you whisper, fingers pressing into his shoulders "keep going."
"you're fuckin' bleeding."
"i don't care. please. i want to feel you." you sniffle. god, the pleasure is making you bold. too fucking bold.
he lets out a shaky breath. "you're going to kill me."
but he pushes deeper, slower this time. gentler. his lips find yours, kissing you softly as he sinks into you. the pain fades, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that makes you moan.
when he's fully sheathed, he stops. lets you adjust. his forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged.
"y'feel incredible," he breathes. "so tight. so...fuck...perfect."
"move," you beg. "please."
he pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. the friction is delicious, the stretch exquisite. he sets a rhythm—slow, deep, deliberate—each thrust hitting a spot that makes you see stars.
"ryomen," you gasp. "r-ryo—"
"i know," he murmurs. "i know, doll. feels s'good, doesn't it?"
"yes—yes—"
his hand slides down your stomach, pressing against the slight bulge where he's buried inside you. the feeling makes you moan.
"look at that," he says, awe in his voice. "you can feel me, can't ya'? right here."
he presses down, and you feel it—the outline of him inside you. it's obscene. it's incredible.
"more," you gasp. "harder—"
"y'sure?"
"yes—please—"
he obliges. his pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with your moans and his grunts.
"gonna come," he warns. "where do you want it?"
"inside," you gasp. "please—i want to feel you—"
he groans, his hips slamming into yours. and then he's coming, hot and thick, filling you so completely. you feel it—his release pouring into you, painting your walls, claiming you from the inside. his cum is already trickling down your thigh, oozing out of your cunt.
at the same time, he's stroking his other cock. you feel the wet spurts hit your stomach, warm and sticky.
he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you. his face buries in your neck, and you feel his breath, ragged and uneven.
"i love you," he whispers, gruff. it's funny. you've always thought the word love doesn't exist in his vocabulary. but here he is, saying it over and over again. "i love you so much it terrifies me."
you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer.
"i love you too."
a long moment passes. then another. and then—
"we're going to do that again."
you laugh, breathless.
"right now?"
"after i clean you up." he kisses your neck. "and then again. and again. and again. until ya' can't walk."
"promise?"
he pulls back, and even though you can't see him, you know he's smirking.
"promise."
you're already half asleep when he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like he's afraid you'll disappear. his lips press against your hair, your forehead, your eyelids.
"my wife," he murmurs. "my perfect, beautiful wife."
synopsis: he made you a promise he couldn't keep, all because he was distracted with someone else, because he chose someone else. so, what happens when a mission goes wrong and hes not there?
flower: black dahlia
warnings: angst, a lot of angst.
w/c: 6.8k
a/n: it is here finally, my first finished longshot! it took me 2 months to complete it cause I'm lazy af, so dont expect anything new soon lmao. apologies for any mistakes since its eng is not my first language (and me dumb).
wanna thank my girl @tarjapearce for helping me throughout the process, you're an angel <3 dividers by @rookthornesartistry and @strangergraphics-archive.
Each breath you take seems more raw than the previous one, your throat burning with each inhale after exhale. Your thoughts are as uneven as your breathing, the anxiety and fear fighting your instinct to survive.
As you reach the car, you’re finally able to open the door after countless attempts, as your blood burns through your vessels and chains you down. It seems like a blink before you’re driving away to God knows where, the only certain thing at the moment being the lump of fear in your throat.
It’s when you regain control of your mind that you reach the phone and frantically search for Sylus’ contact, looking up and down to the road in front of you. The numbness from your mind travels to your limbs, as if the only thing you can feel is the rapid heartbeat inside your head and the tight grip in your chest. Once you see it you click it almost instantly, a shuddering breath of relief leaving your lips.
‘Its okay, I’m safe now. Everything is gonna be okay.’
While waiting for the call to pick up, you try to regain your other senses and look at your surroundings as a way to figure out where your survival instincts took you. You then proceed to use the GPS on the dashboard panel, redirecting yourself back to the base.
The plan was simple: meet with the seller, receive the protocore and go back to the base, but that is if the other party didn’t take you for fools. Once you understood the ambush at place, it was almost too late. Almost.
There was always a possibility and you knew it, everyone knew it, even Sylus. That’s why the protocols existed, to make sure if things got complicated you could get out safely even if he or the twins weren’t with you.
First things first, you would always call him for help. During these missions it was established that he would always have his phone close in case of an emergency, and honestly it normally wouldn’t reach the second ring before he picked up whenever you needed. That's how careful he was, it was his promise. His deal, and he never breaks his deals.
That's why when it reached the last ring, your blood grew cold. The reassurance you’ve built until now going down the drain as if you didn’t make an effort to gather it all up.
Your breathing picked up again, all the hairs in your arm raising up in terror and fear. ‘No, nononono.’
You try again. And again.
And nothing.
The only thing you could hear were his words of promise towards your safety, a soft lullaby that normally would bring you comfort, but now just brings a new sense of dread and betrayal.
Suddenly two blinding lights appear on the retro visor, and a sense of dread falls upon you. A heavy hot feeling washes from your head to the pit of your stomach, so heavy that it almost makes you fall forward on the steering wheel. You’re being followed.
You get it together and search for Kieran’s contact, immediately pressing the call button, and when he answers you at the 5th ring, you rest against the back of your seat as some of the burdens upon you leave your body.
Kieran answered, so why didn’t he?
“Hello hello, how can i assi—“ “Kieran, it was all a trap and they are following me now.” Your voice sounds rough after biting your lip for so long, the vibrations scratching your throat as it tries to escape. You can hear him pause for a small second before calling his brother and immediately taking action.
“Where are you lil boss?” his tone is the most serious you’ve ever heard, cementing the realisation that you’re truly in trouble.
As you let out a shaky breath, you shake your head in denial as if he could see you. “I-I don’t know K, i don’t fucking know where i am a-and they right behind me—“.
Your tone is pathetic and you know it, but can anyone blame you? You’re supposed to be safe, he promised, and now everything seems so uncertain. “Take a deep breath for us yeah? I need you to do that.” His voice turns from serious to a comforting tone, bringing you back from the pit you’re already in.
You do as he says, word for word, and he makes sure to hear it before proceeding, “Thats perfect lil’ boss, now I need you to look at the dashboard and see the location you have in the GPS, can you do that?”
Once again, you nod in an attempt to communicate with him and search for an address, saying it loud enough before hearing a loud thud through the phone. They are searching for you. “Okay now you need to keep updating us on your location and direction, once you notice we’re already home yeah? Luke will keep talking to you so don’t worry, we’ve got you”
From there, everything felt like a quick blur. All you remember is being followed and then a loud crash happening behind you. Next thing you know, Luke is in the backseat with you while trying to talk to you out of it. But you’re not in the car with them right now. You’re in his office, the scent of leather filling your senses. You can feel the chair sinking beneath you and his caress on your hands, grabbing them while his red piercing stare reassures you. And he says it, he says that if anyone even tries to mess with one of his, he will be there to make sure they know who they were messing with. But you’re not there, nor is he here.
Sometimes you would help your “sister” in her… business. You grew up with her, a case of a chosen family since your parents knew each other by heart, before everything fell apart. Since then, you’ve gone through the hardships that N109 zone threw at you both, her being the brains and you being the practical side. She was always more street smart than you, taking the sisterly role at a really young age and neither playing chess or checkers, but her own game created by her own rules.
So when your aunt's shop wasn’t enough to go through difficult times, she was the first to give you an opportunity to be great, and to be great means to be powerful. The world doesn’t favour the weak, it only strengthens the strong, so why not take a shot to help the ones who really need it?
Your fascination and experience with protocores came handy in tradings and auctions, using your pair of expert eyes to look for diamonds in the dirt. And that’s how you met him.
You met Sylus through a protocore auction, a poor one may be added. The prices on it were horrendously high for such poor quality, and when you saw him pondering to buy one of them you couldn’t stop yourself from giving him some advice — Seeing such precious money being spent on waste is hard on anyone.
Your keen senses attracted him, the sense of opportunity too strong for the leader of Onychinus to ignore, so he made you deal: be his eyes and he will put you under his wings, providing anything you need.
From there you started to make appearances in his name, making business with dealers and getting better protocores and better prices. The more you interacted the closer you got with Sylus and the twins, to the point that you started to look at them more than simple coworkers, instead, more like family.
But as the bond changed so did their boss, a slight shift in his demeanour almost invisible to the naked sight. There started to be a tension clinging to the air whenever you two were together, pushing each other's buttons. Normally it would be him provoking you, but those slabs felt like tickles in comparison to what you’ve gone through, so it would be useless. Unless of course, he took a more soft and gentle approach, then it would be impossible not to bend.
It was in those moments where the knot of need would crawl to your throat, the line between danger and want blurring the more you felt his gaze on your form, and it felt exciting. After 2 years, it was impossible to not fall for Sylus’ late night talks, the intimate trust he never showed anyone else and words that would only be spoken in a whisper, to you. Although that was before she came around.
They quickly bring you to the living room to sit you on the leather sofa, making sure you’re comfortable before going on separate paths. Kieran quickly turns around and goes to search for the first aid kit, leaving Luke to search for any potential injuries you have. After sitting on his heels in front of you, he gently grabs your shoulders first as he moves you gently while checking around for any wounds while trying to bring you back from your disassociated state.
“Where is he?”
He knew the question would come earlier or later, but it still made him stop in his tracks. If he didn’t have his classic mask on, it would be pretty obvious he was sweating out of remorse and guilt, so he tries to change the subject while waiting for his brother’s return.
His mask hides the nervousness felt by the sudden question, drops of sweat pilling up out of remorse — or perhaps guilt. He tries to change the subject while waiting for his brother's return, hands retreating to his lap to nervously play with his fingers. “Before that, why don’t we wait for Ki-“
“Luke.” Nothing else moves besides your lips, a chilling silence making the poor man almost choke on his words.
You were always a light hearted person, sometimes teasing the twins and indulging their goofy pranks, pranks who would get you chanced by Onychinus leader himself. Each day that you passed together made them realise how your closed, but gentle heart was able to warm the coldest parts of someone, making them even more attached. They’ve seen you angry as well, really angry, and it's something they dread to see it again, but it’s in that moment that Kieran realises there’s something else scarier than your burning fury;
Your lifeless eyes, empty of any emotion. It’s now he realises how fucked up the situation is. You are not like them, you could’ve died.
Kieran interrupts the pregnant silence, confused about his brother’s low levelled head — as if in pain. He closes the distance between you two, sitting down right next to you with the aid kit in his lap and positioning himself towards you. Before he can open his mouth, your voice cuts their thoughts once again.
“…Where is he?” You repeat your question while looking at nothing, reflecting the void inside your heart.
Both twins look at each other, as if discussing with their eyes if the truth is the best they could give you at the moment. The thought of bringing you pain as a consequence of your request, hurts them more than any wound they have ever stitched on themselves.
Luke is the first to break eye contact. ‘I can’t do it brother’. Kieran sighs, putting the kit on the table beside him before shifting on his seat, looking ahead while supporting his elbows on both his thighs.
He hesitates, his lips parting and pressing together a few times in an attempt to organise his thoughts. After battling with his thoughts he lets out an exhale in defeat, your pain more important than any cover up.
“…He had to go to Linkon at the end of the day, he told us not to wait for him and in any emergency to call him, but —“ The man sighs and shakes his head in frustration for the man he serves. Sylus is more than he could ever ask for and done more than he could ever thank, but seeing someone like you being thrown in this makes his unconditional adoration shake for the leader.
For the first time since you’ve sat on the couch, your gaze lowers, processing the twin’s words with your mind and heart. He was with her when you needed him the most, and it seems you're not the only one who reflects on that.
The room is engulfed by the soft lights that the fireplace provides, warming up superficially but leaving a frostbite feeling in everyone's hearts, as the three of you fall into a moment of reflection. The ringtone of Luke’s phone cuts the silence short, bringing everyone out of their trance, and once he goes to pick it up, your hand comes flying in his direction and grabbing the device from his hand, throwing it to the wall in your left.
The action surprises both twins as they slightly jump on their place and look at you, shock invading their hidden features. They can see your arm frozen, still in the throwing motion as you try to regulate your breathing. You then open your lips and let the words spill through, letting their fears become reality.
Both men get up in a blink of an eye, already throwing questions and pleas for you to not make rush decisions. Their voices feel like long distant whispers in your mind, the only thing going through being the promise he made and the one he broke.
“Don’t pick his calls, not until I’m gone.”
A few months ago, Sylus started to act… differently. He started to make Mephisto work overtime, to the point you wondered when was the last time you’ve seen him pestering you for attention. Whenever you tried to spend time with him on the usual ungodly hours, he seemed distracted with reports and news of N109 Zones’ beloved sister, Linkon city.
You knew better than to be bothered by it, no matter how much affinity you had with the man he was the leader of Onychinus at the end of the day, trouble found him the same way he would find you in the middle of the night. When the city’s shadows got darker, you could see a shift in his attitude as his cold features appeared often, absent of any emotion or the usual glint of mischief.
But on the day of the Nest meeting, things changed drastically. After they got to the base and settled in one of the rooms downstairs and the gunshot was heard, all you could do was jump in place and wipe your head to the direction of the noise. You and the twins knew whatever was going on in there Sylus would not get hurt, but just the sound itself was enough to make your heartbeat fasten its pace with worry.
Once that episode was done you did give him an earful of swears, telling him off about his recklessness and manipulating tactics — i mean can’t he convince the girl with less self damaging methods?
As time went on, you could say your relationship with MC was … stable, just civil enough to promote a neutral ambience. She wasn’t really up on making new friends and you weren’t really interested in someone as unstable as her — she was part of one of your enemies after all. As time passed though, you could see her being included more into the organisation, which didn’t bother you if it wasn’t for a few peculiarities.
It seemed, bit by bit, the solo attention that was given to you by Sylus was starting to diverge towards her. Not just that, but the trust he would’ve put on you to do the job you were assign to was also being put on her, on the miss hunter that decided to buy the whole action just because she wanted to be bratty. Slowly, the confusion turned into uncertainty, and the uncertainty turned into something you didn’t feel in a long time since being at his side — insecurity. MC wasn’t just anyone; she was a professional hunter, one of the best it seemed, and not with a normal evol, no. With an aether core, just like him. Suddenly you could see why he was relying more on her than you, and how compatible they seemed even with all their bickering.
He noticed it of course, and it was the perfect opportunity to tease you about it. When he noticed it was deeper than a simple “jealousy”, that sweet voice of his sang like a lullaby in your ears.
‘No matter how important she is for our mission, she will never be as important as you are to me, little flower.’
And you trusted him, you dumbly did.
The twins are walking by each of your sides, your fast pace making them more and more nervous about the thoughts on your mind, “L-Look let's talk about it yeah? Why don’t we sit down and-and try to come to a better solution?” Luke tells you while stumbling on his words, almost matching his clumsy steps to wherever you’re going.
Kieran nods affirmatively while keeping a hand ghosting the middle of your back, as if to catch you in case another episode begins, “He’s right lil boss, making decisions in the heat of the moment never goes well. And you should be restin—“
As you make a sharp turn towards the corridor of your room, your pace is a clear answer for them two — ‘The decision is done.’ You enter your room and go to grab the travel bag beneath your bed, laying it on top of your covers and opening it completely.
Kieran calls out your name once again with an authoritarian voice, an unfamiliar tone from the twin behind you. “Please,” he begs, the desperation in his voice overpowering his need to take some sort of control, “ — talk to us, this can’t be the only way can it?”
Your hand stops in place, fingertips barely caressing the ends of the bag as your mind goes to a blank. The truth is that if you take time to think as much as a drop, you know it will overboard the ocean of emotions inside you — and you know that once it begins, it will be hard to reach an end.
So you stay quiet, get your back straight before slowly turning towards the men that anxiously wait for an answer. And even with silence falling on you three, they wince at the statement you’ve done. Kieran breathes in sharply while Luke takes a step back, both startled with your silent response that could mean a thousand words alone. Pain? Betrayal? Maybe even emotions that you promised to seal deep in your heart.And that was their answer.
Your mind covers the sands of time, as next thing you know you’re feeling the tears that the sky is letting down for you, walking by foot until — until somewhere.
You couldn’t even farewell the two people that were always there for you, the only ones that really took their word up to their promise. You stopped at the stairs from the entrance, rain engulfing you into a tight embrace before turning around to face the twins. They look at you, and you can imagine the expressions they’re making so vividly that it stabs a fourth blade into your heart. All you can do is hug them one last time and control the tremors that your body is letting out, a last effort to make this goodbye less painful. But they know, they know that the drops on your face are not made by the clouds above, but from you.
You turn around, not daring to share another word nor gaze. It would just make you weak, so instead you go forward, walking through the open gates that once opened your heart and now close along with it.
After walking for what seems like hours, a sob is hidden by the rain that shocks the floor. Another one gets out, and another one, and another, until you drop to your knees in angst. You almost died. You could still feel their hands gripping into your arm and —
You clumsily reach your phone and make one last phone call, to someone that you know will listen to your pleas and anguish.
Once you finish the call, all you can do is close your eyes and feel the gentle touch that the water provides to you, and share to her the yells of your broken heart.
That night, the skies cried with you.
The ear-piercing noise of the brakes screeching on the road can be heard inside the manor, before the air goes heavy with anticipation. A door suddenly opens, letting the chilling melody made by the rain creep in and, for just an instance, overthrow the deadly silence that consumes the house. The moment is broken by the tremor that shakes the house, caused by the smashing door.
Quick breathing and heavy steps echo through the corridors, each one more desperate than the last. When Sylus reaches the living room part of him knew, he knew something wasn’t right. He tries to catch his breath, but each inhale scratches the inside of his throat as despair replaces the oxygen in his lungs — almost as a punishment.
“What the hell happened?” The man spits out, the authoritarian tone hiding the fear in his voice. Sylus pants while looking at the twins, both sitting on the same sofa you’ve sat before — a futile way of prolonging your presence. They don’t answer, maybe didn’t even hear it, one of them keeping his face in his hands while the other simply looks down with his forearms on his knees.
“Where are they!?” His yells pierces the room as well as the brothers mind, waking them up from a protective slumber which avoided them from facing reality. Luke jumps in surprise looking at his boss in despair, and as he tries to formulate an answer, Kieran cuts him off.
“They left, boss. They quit.”
It was after the dinner party, when the faint festive mood still lingered in the air but the quiet manor expressed explicitly that the day had ended. Sylus couldn’t believe it still, he wasn’t accustomed to celebrate his birthday even with the unsuccessful tries of his twins. He needed to give you the credit, he was expecting something, but not this.
Everything in the celebration screamed ‘him’, making him participate in his favourite silly activities and helping the twins with offering their leader a new karaoke set — even if it pained you internally.
“Running away from me already, birthday boy?” You broke his wandering mind, making him stretch the smile in his face a little longer.
He chuckled before taking his forearms from the railing and straightening up his back. “Im afraid your birthday boy isn’t here, as for my understanding it's the 19th already.” Your silent cussing made him snort in amusement.
“Well, uhm — would you kind sir be mindful enough to give him a gift of mine?” You improvised, hiding the nervous tremor your hands had let out.
Sylus pretended to think for a moment, before giving up to your hopeful look — too adorable for your own good if he might add. “Hm, I guess that can be arranged. It is the least I could do to thank the host for this extravagant party.”
You swayed your hand up and down, suggesting him to stop with the compliments — accepting those were never your forte per se. You walked up next to him before resting your hands against the railing in front of you, and take a deep breath.
“Well, I had some really poetic words to tell the birthday boy, but it seems harder now that I’m sharing the message.” A sigh escaped your lips, and you wished that some of your nervousness did too.
His intrigue only grew from there, facing you with his body as to give you his full attention. “Is that hesitance I sense? What could such an important message be to make you fear its content, even after lying and hiding this big of an event from Onychinus leader himself?”
You scoffed and shook your head as a response to his question, quickly following up “Why are you saying as if I committed a crime? It's a surprise party for a reason.” You couldn't deny the success from his effort in making you feel more at ease, maybe a reminder that this isn’t a bigger deal than what you did daily.
“This past year has been, well something”, you chuckled to yourself, “but even amongst the strongest waves, there’s a serene feeling to it. A feeling I’ve been waiting to hold on to.”
His eyes scanned every move you made, even the small smile you tried to contain as memories came to bay, and he himself tried to hide how much he adored it.
“He pays me extremely well, but I find it futile to buy him anything when he can buy anything he wants and more, so —“ Your left hand trembled as you lifted it up from its support, reaching into your pocket and taking out a small velvet pouch.
“— I tried to be creative.”
You turned to him, extending the present and staying still until he picked it up, eyes looking anywhere but him.
Sylus took in your flustered state, maybe enjoying it a bit too much, before carefully picking up the present in front of him.
“Well miss, I will need to confirm the gift before delivering it to the client in question. Security measures, as you understand” He looked at you through his lashes, and even if the look could be perceived as sensual, there was a glint of reassurance behind his gaze. ‘Your thought on it is already enough’ it whispered, but falling in deaf ears as you couldn't even look at him.
“Yeah yeah just open the damn present. I'm dying of anxiety over here…” Your last mumble wasn't ignored, and made the leader of Onychinus have a laugh himself. He respected your wishes before opening the small pouch.
After gently picking up the object with his fingers, he couldn't even hide his surprise when looking at it.
“What… Is this a necklace?” He asked, his confusion obvious in his tone. He definitely wasn’t expecting getting surprised once more today,
“Yeah, I — uhm, I made it.”
Nor the words that came out of your mouth. A silence fell upon you two, and even the stars seemed to be waiting for your next move, observing your interaction from afar.
Sylus broke everyone’s expectations by laughing. Not his usual laugh though, not the sexy smug laugh that he lets out once in a while, no. He laughed as if he was a young child, free of malice or second intentions. It was so beautiful, so raw and pure that you almost cried by the melody he created so effortlessly, so beautiful that it made you stop and stare at him.
Once he calmed down, he cleaned the corner of his eyes, as if to catch the tear that dared to escape his ruby eyes. “You just keep on catching me off guard more and more, I’m not sure if I enjoy it.” But his genuine smile contradicted his statement, clearly enjoying every moment of it.
As you got to your senses, you couldn't help but be embraced by a wave of embarrassment. “… If you don’t like it it's okay, I’m not a jeweller by far, so i understand if it's not your taste —“ “Its the most beautiful thing someone has ever gifted to me.”
The sudden shift in his voice caught you completely off guard, snapping your gaze towards him instantly. Despite the seriousness of his tone, his eyes didn't lie, full with a gentleness foreign in his eyes.
“Its the first time someone has ever given me a hand-made gift like this,” he caressed the metal beads of the necklace, falling in love with it the more he looked at it, “I couldn’t ask for more, little flower”.
The manor’s floor ranges in pain as Sylus’ footsteps press against it, the pace mirroring his racing mind. The closer he gets to your bedroom, the more his heart jumps against his chest. He had to see, he had to confirm this wasn’t just a shitty prank you three pulled on him, even if in the back of his mind the truth was looking straight at him.
He races through the stairs, walking them up in groups of two, and his body just gets into autopilot. So many times he has made this same path, only this time it is filled with dread. Going forward, sharp turn to the right and walk a few feet until he reaches your door, but once he stops, he hesitates to open the door. Sylus’ hand trembles, probably for the first time in his life, in fear. He already lost so much, faced so many horrors, but it’s now he realises that losing you is the biggest one until now. The hesitance annoys him deeply, so he pushes it aside while grabbing the doorknob tightly and twisting it with force, opening a new wound he couldn’t heal.
The twins catch up on him slightly later, looking into the room and watching their leader in the middle of what used to be your room, empty of any sign that would proclaim this space as yours. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak. He just stays there, expressionless, like he was before he met you.
Seconds pass before he regains his sense of self, turning around and going back on his steps, walking straight past the brothers and towards his own office. He can’t hear Kieran's and Luke's questions, since the only thing in his mind is the way your cute chuckle slips through when you’re embarrassed, how your eyes close when you laugh so hard you’re almost wheezing, and how you look at him as if he was just another human being instead of the monster other proclaim him to be.
And then he wonders, do you believe their words now?
It truly is like two faces of the same coin, bringing the the twins into a sense of deja vu — the way he gets into a dissociated state like you do when stressful situations appear, how he doesn’t stop his tempo because they all know if he does, he falls, the same way you do.
He steps into his office and prepares Mephisto for the night shift ahead, as well as assembling himself for the round he is about to go through too. Quick and direct, Sylus doesn’t lose anymore time entertaining his brainstorm of emotions, only having one goal in mind — finding you.
Once out of the room and heading towards the stairs, he stops by the call of his name. Luke steps closer to the man while his brother stays behind, now only a few feet away from the white-haired man. With a strained voice, he speaks the words that are plead in everyone’s minds,
“Please find her Boss.”.
Sylus clenches his jaw, the tension breaking his expressionless facade as dread falls from its slits. No, he won’t let you go like this, not because of a stupid mistake of his responsibility, not because of a promise he couldn’t keep. He turns to face the younger male, and his eyes shimmer in determination and pain, cutting the heavy ambient around them.
“I will.”
He was waiting for you at the entrance, already bored to mind even before the event even started. It was a social party of a trusty source of his, and for the sake of his business relationship, Sylus had no choice but to participate. He would always bring you along to avoid “unwanted” attention to himself, since lately he hasn’t gotten the curiosity to entertain himself with a stranger.
He would normally give you full liberty to choose your own clothes, as long as it was adequate for the meetings he didn’t really care about, but in the past few months he couldn’t help but … spoil you a bit. A coat that seemed clearly your style? Or that set that would look so good on you for the auctions ahead? He couldn’t just pass by, he needed to buy it. So when he saw a suit that complemented his own iconic colours, it was a match in heaven.
He waited (im)patiently for your arrival, wondering how the outfit would look on you: Would you like it? Would you feel comfortable in it? Would you feel confident in it—
“Sorry I took so long, took a while to figure out how to wear it” You chuckled nervously as you approached him at the bottom of the stairs. He searched for the source of your voice before his gaze fell upon your figure, and Sylus got quiet.
The tight shirt already shaped your figure beautifully, but the vest on top? It was as if you were built by Astra Himself. With the black shirt a few buttons open your chest was shown just enough to tease, and the black vest with crimson strikes was adjusting your torso so perfectly he thought it was dangerous. You couldn’t help but try to hide yourself, not used to his hungry eyes, but as soon as you tried to cower your figure he was suddenly in front of you, with his hand gently grasping your wrist forbidding you from covering.
“Don’t,” he stroked your palm with his thumb, feeling the warmth of your skin, “You look too beautiful to be hidden.” You shook your head in denial and let out a nervous chuckle, not used to being complimented by the Onychinus leader himself, “You don’t need to stroke my ego now, we’re wayy past that phase.”
Sylus frowned, not enjoying the tone that accompanied your words, “Are you doubting my truth, puppy? I think we’re past that phase as well.” The hand on your wrist slipped into yours instead, interlocking your fingers in his. You looked at him shocked, not quite processing his words immediately, and once you stumbled on your words after attempting to retort, you knew you were done.
Annoyance long gone, the soft ruby eyes softened at your embarrassed expression, enjoying every minute of your visual flustered state. He must say, red does look good on you, especially on your cheeks. And it's once he noticed his own heart jumping against his chest that he knew, he was done for as well.
It’s hard to determine how much time has passed since Sylus got to the road in hopes of finding a trail of you. It pained him to think you would’ve walked the same path he’s driving drenched and cold, shaken up by a meeting that shouldn’t have happened. He thought he could find you wandering the streets since it didn’t take him much to reach home before you left, but since there was no trace of you, he could only conclude someone took you.
The thought would be enough for him to grab the steering wheel tighter, enough for his knuckles to turn white. There was no doubt in his mind that you’ve contacted someone you trust, probably your sister, but after what happened to you… he couldn’t handle the possibility of you being in danger and him not be able to save you, again.
His eyes burned, enough to leave the ruby of his eyes even more crimson, and Sylus didn’t know if it was because he refused to blink, or if it were tears that threatened to escape. Memories and flashbacks wouldn’t stop from coming in and out of his mind, leaving a little bit more of madness in his brain.
With his left leg twitching, hands slightly trembling, and breathing getting heavier by the second, Sylus could feel something new brewing inside of him, another emotion no one else has made him feel besides you: panic.
In one of those sleepless nights of yours, when memories of your past taunt you in your dreams, you’ve got used to the ruby-eyed male’s company to ease your mind. And back then, it was one of those nights.
Sylus was observing your sleeping form, your chest rose and lowered with each breath, eyes softly closed and parted lips that made you look so beautiful. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, enjoying every minute while he could to take in all your features — it was the only way he could without seeming lovestruck (which he totally was).
He already accepted he was a lost cause, even if you were the one with the nickname it seemed he was the dog on the leash, and the one holding it was you, even if you were too dense to decipher.
The man couldn’t contain himself, and so he reached his calloused hand and rested it against the softness of your cheek, gently stroking it with the pad of his thumb. He thought and overthought, until finally surrendering to his desires and leaving a kiss on your forehead so light it felt like two petals against the skin.
As he pulled away, he opened his eyes and sighed in content, grateful to have you resting in his bed with him. Maybe one day he will be as bold as he is in his line of work to make sure you’re there for other reasons.
A loud screech cuts the silent street as Sylus turns to stop at the side of the road, his hyperventilating making him dizzy enough to shake his sight. The memories overflow him and the bother in his chest turns into pain, making his right hand abandon the wheel and grab where it hurts. He leans into his seat quite roughly, a way to shake off this awful feeling he can’t quite shake off.
Both of you were in the kitchen, you and your stubborn self trying to pull him into the middle of the “dance floor” while your favourite song plays in the background. His eyes glinted in amusement while his lips let out a breathy laugh, your excitement expanding to everything around you.
While you sang your lungs out and swayed Sylus towards every direction, he couldn’t help but stare at your goofy smile and so beautiful lips. He then slid his hands down to both sides of your waist and secured them there, while a genuine smile of his own slowly made way to his face.
You opened your eyes in surprise, but non the less delighted, and you looked at him. For some reason this caught him off guard as well, bringing you two to a stop while the melody kept on playing. It’s true what others say: in moments of intimacy with a cherished one, it’s as if the sands of time are at each other's fingertips, stopping its continuous flow.
In a sudden move, Sylus leans forward and slams both hands against the steering wheel: once, then twice, then one final blow. His breathing is erratic now, his mind — it just doesn’t stop working, it keeps replaying moments he wouldn’t even remember on an ordinary day and clinging onto him when he doesn’t even have you near anymore. Every time he remembers, a part of him gets cut and keeps on bleeding, stinging every time he notices you’re gone.
One of his hands left your waist and cradled your face, making you close your eyes and lean into the warmth of his rough palm. A melodic silence fell upon you both, but no words were needed to be said. Sylus didn’t need his Aether core to know your deepest desire at the moment, and he couldn’t lie that it mirrored his. So he leaned it, and as a good reflection you are, you did so as well.
The car door slams against the vehicle by force, the space inside being so claustrophobic that it makes the air in his lungs trapped in place. He leans against the car and lets himself be embraced by the rain above, a chilling comfort given by the skies. While his breathing slowly comes to a steady, the pressure on his heart only increases as so the burning feeling in his eyes.
He doesn’t move nor does he make a sound, only the rain drops against the concrete and metal being heard. But the same way you reflected him back then, this time he’s the one mirroring the skies this time, as only Astra himself is the only witness of his crystal drops that interline with the ones from above.
An outcast you rejected a while ago cannot bear the sight of you with other men! And what's a better place to corner you and beg to love him? By the lake, at night, when you're naked and alone. After he made sure to get rid of your newest lover, of course!
part of slutty (slasher) summer
˖ꨄ ݁˖ pairing: ꒰ Stalker/Killer!Suguru Geto x Slutty!Reader ꒱
˖ꨄ ݁˖ content & warning: ꒰ mdni 18+ :: heavy smut :: set in 80s :: psycho stalker suguru :: yandere :: obsessive behaviour :: extreme possesiveness :: violence (not towards the reader) :: emo Suguru :: minx reader :: she's so mean :: murders :: death threats :: university au :: suguru has piercings :: oral sex :: masturbation :: stalking :: panties stealing (ofc) :: breeding kink :: creampie :: oral sex :: pussydrunk suguru :: belly bulges :: blood :: we love beating men :: miserable suguru :: extreme jealousy ꒱
˖ꨄ ݁˖ words: ꒰ 11.4k ꒱
˖ꨄ ݁˖ notes: It was supposed to be shorter, but then I spiralled and cooked another long fic. Hope you'll like it <3
He was always there – somewhere, lurking behind the university's walls, with lavender eyes fixed on your figure.
Suguru Geto was known as your menace, stalker, the man who somehow became utterly obsessed with this campus's slutty sweetheart. A freak, an outcast, always hanging out with his weirdo friends. Metal bars coated his face like twinkling stars, and long, shiny hair brushed the ends of his hips, hung with heavy chains.
Two years of a master's degree, two years of a nightmare, a man haunting your dreams like a spectral creature with eyes always fixed on your body and heavy, bittersweet cologne trailing you through the corridors.
You first met in September of 86'. Right on campus, you sat on the grass with your new group of friends and a jock whose name you had long since forgotten, clinging to you like a puppy. The prettiest new girl at university, a heartbreaker, a slut, which you never truly denied. For it was the truth that you enjoyed sleeping around and chirping bewitching sweetness to your next foolish victims.
And Suguru saw you then, as you lay on lush grass in a mid-thigh skirt and white socks, wrapped just above your knees. You wore a checkered top and long earrings that brushed your neck. Squinted eyes turned to his freaky group once, with glossed lips curving into a mischievous smile and a slightly raised eyebrow.
"Why is he staring at me?" you asked, piquing Shoko's interest.
She looked over her shoulder, pushing a low groan. "Ugh, I guess he wants to talk to you. Don't mind them, probably some weird art major."
But it was hard to ignore the lavender irises hiding behind the almond-shaped eyes and this curious, slightly cheeky tilt of his head. September was still rather warm, and yet black jeans wrapped his long legs, hung with silver chains and patches. Dark tee with some washed-out band and thick bracelets stacked one after one on his pale wrists. Massive shoes could probably leave a hole in your delicate, white heels, and so grimace tug on your lips.
A jock sitting right next to you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear, with a, "Don't worry, sweetheart, he won't be bothering you."
But you didn't answer, since he would be replaced by another guy by the end of this week. There was no need to raise his hopes.
The days were passing, and you were soon completely wrapped up in the university's tight schedule. Classes, studying, partying. Classes, studying, partying, fucking.
The young adult life was fun, with your friends always pulling you out of the dorm in the dead of night and taking you from one bar to another. From the local student's club to the cabin by the lake, owned by one of the jocks you happened to sleep with.
But the joys of a student's life – be it an evening spent studying or fucking in the car after a stressful exam – were, after a few months, taken away by your stalker.
Suguru Geto has been following you since day one. The moment his eyes fell on your body sprawled on the campus lawn, skin shimmering in the late summer sun, and a sweet giggle tickling his pierced ears.
His brain turned fuzzy whenever he saw the angelic aura wrapping around your cheeky face. Heart melted when your eyes fell on him, even for a single second. An uncontrollable feeling bubbled in his chest at the sheer sight of a little crease appearing between your brows when you bestowed him with a grimace.
It was clear that, for some reason, you treated him rather as a foe than a man who could pique your interest.
At first, he did nothing but look. Observe, with this devilish smile tugging at his lips and lavender irises taking pleasure in the loveliest scowl slipping onto your face. He tried to keep himself at bay, but not because shyness coiled in his heart.
No, simply because he wished to know everything about you, before making an official approach. Your favourite flowers, the desserts you most cherished, the tight course schedule that always seemed to keep you up all night, favourite shapes and colours of the clacking jewellery that hung from your skin. Of the big hoops that always brushed your neck, and bracelets stacked one on another, chirping like sweet birds whenever you passed by.
He wished to know the colour of your lingerie and how your panties smelled after a long day. To feel the warmth of the bra that had just left the embrace of your breasts. Smell the sweetness of your slightly sweated skin after days when you joined the cheerleading sessions.
Suguru… Suguru wanted to be the one having you all to himself, even if you hated the sheer sight of him.
Whenever you took a shower during late, late nights – someone always seemed to be there. In the shared bathroom on your floor, the one meant to be used solely by the female students. A listener, whose ears pricked up to hear a soft hum of a random melody that bubbled in your throat and sweet sighs when the first hot droplets hit your skin.
The first time you noticed it was when the bathroom doors closed louder than they should. Another girl coming back from a late session, you thought, giving it no mind.
But the silence that lingered in the air stretched for too long. As no other shower seemed to be in use, nor did any other sounds of movement filled the lonely bathroom.
You waited, and waited, to hear something that would not make you believe that a fucking creep slipped inside the room just to await your naked body leaving the shower.
But nothing else ever came, and so your voice echoed off the walls with a, "Hello?"
Silence stood still, and the hot droplets soon turned into the cold sweat tickling the shivering skin along your spine. Nothing, but the thick fog filled the tiled bathroom and a heavy breath of yours, trying to listen for the eerie footsteps that clacked against the wet floor a few seconds ago.
Coming closer, and closer, till you could already see the heavy, black boots peeking from the lower door crack. A gentle tingling of the oh-so-familiar silver chain slashed through the air, and if you lifted your head up, surely you could see a peek of silky black hair. The shower doors were, after all, not two meters tall.
"You fucking freak," a low snort escaped your throat. "You don’t think I know who you are?"
Silence.
He simply stood there, as if waiting. For you to come outside? Or maybe simply enjoying the tension that rose within a blinding fog. The faster beating of your heart, shuddered breath you tried to conceal with a harsh tone, and trembling fingers covering your breasts, as if he could see your naked body through the door.
"Cat got your tongue, huh? Don’t be a coward, at least say something," you continued, making sure the miserably weak latch was keeping the door closed. "You’ve been stalking me for months. Don’t you know who my boyfriend is?"
Suguru knew.
But he also knew that the captain of the basketball team wasn’t your boyfriend. Because you didn’t do that stuff – relationships, love, cheesy romance.
So a low chuckle slipped past his lips as he pressed his forehead to the door. Trying to smell the sweet body wash that lingered in the air, imagining the foam that coated your soft body and curled around those plush breasts he loved so dearly.
"I can’t believe you’re getting off to this," another snort escaped your throat, as you banged with a fist on the door. "You don’t think I’ll report you? I’ll end you, do you hear me?!"
But Suguru could simply laugh – deeply, with a vibration hitting the plastic surface. His large palm pressed to the door, as if he tried to imagine where exactly your hand lay. So the image of your skins almost touching could slip an eerie, excited thought that tickled his mind in such a pleasant manner.
A wrath coiled beneath your heart, hearing how much he enjoyed this little torture. Because, if only he wanted, he surely could rip the door off the hinges with little to no sweat. Instead, he simply let out a hum, curling the fingers into a fist.
"Sure, baby. I hear you loud and clear," a low purr bounced off the tile, foggy walls.
The heat made your head spin, body leaned against the plastic door in need of fresh air. But going out now would mean slipping right into his needy clutches.
And before you could snap once again, he added, "I hope you won’t mind me taking those pretty panties of yours, hm? I’ll give them back one day, pinky promise," and with that, the leather shoes disappeared from your sight.
With your pitched you fucking psycho, kissing his cheeks goodbye, as he left the stuffy bathroom.
And so during the first semester, you started seeing the consequences of having a stalker like him.
Your panties were disappearing one by one, and you knew that it was not a fault of the old washing machines in the dorm. Always suddenly appearing back on your bed, clean and fragrant, although only god knew what he did with them.
Other times, it was the white knee-socks from the cheerleader costume. The woollen, soft material that wrapped your sweaty thighs after hours of training. Always disappearing whenever you planned to do the laundry, always back on your bed a bit stiff, with a heavy cologne still clinging to the cloth.
The report to the headmaster did truly nothing, as you had no proof whatsoever that Suguru Geto was your stalker, nor that he slipped into the women’s bathroom. After all, no one else saw him, and for that matter, no one could accuse him of anything.
The jock you were sleeping with back then refused to deal with him another way, for he simply didn’t see a reason to it.
You snorted, the first time Toji said it and slipped off his bed. The winter’s biting cold was sneaking past the old dorm windows as you started dressing yourself up.
"Doll, what are you doing?" The mountain of a man asked with a sigh, stretching his massive body on a bed. "I won’t kill some random guy, just because you think he’s stalking you."
You scoffed at the quizzical tone of his voice, pulling on the warm, woolly sweater. "So you think I made this up, huh?"
Toji groaned, lazily wiping his face with a hand. "Come on, I’m just saying that he may have a crush and that’s it."
"He’s been stealing my underwear and listening to me taking showers for months!"
The emerald eyes followed you with a raised eyebrow, as you pulled tight jeans onto your ass. The scowl between your brows made him chuckle lowly and sit up on a bed, patting the still-warm place next to him.
"Come on, let me make you feel better. It’s not as if he’ll do anything else." His long hand reached for the loops of your jeans, but you quickly smacked it. "Doll, I’m serious. If you were in danger, I would definitely deal with him."
Fully dressed, with shoes on, you turned to him with a low tsk and, "I think you’re too much of a fucking coward to do it," before going out of his room and closing the door with a thud.
Months passed; winter turned into early spring, the second semester began, and Suguru Geto was slowly getting closer.
In slow, baby steps and yet you felt the line between the two of you thinning. With him appearing on your horizon much more often, following you around the campus, barely trying to hide it.
In early spring, he started leaving little gifts on your bed, under the door, in the locker. A pretty set of lingerie, favourite flowers, a tape with music he thought you could like, the… death threats.
Not to you, oh, but of course, as he would rather cut his limbs off than make a single, precious strand of your hair fall for the greediness filling his heart.
All the death threats were always aimed at your lovers, of course.
As Suguru had a little patience left for seeing you change men like gloves, with none worthy to be bestowed with the softness of your skin. To nuzzle into your neck, trace kisses down the chin, and hear the sweet laughter every single day.
Suguru was simply jealous. And he addressed it quite openly in short, paper notes that you somehow always found in your bag.
The mix of, baby he’s not good for you, and, break it off, or he’ll regret ever setting his eyes on my girl.
When you brought them all to the headmaster, he simply offered to monitor the situation. As you still had no proof to offer that Suguru Geto was the one who wrote them all. No one saw him slipping the notes into your bag, nor his ghastly figure stealing all your lingerie.
On a campus, he was simply a weird guy.
In classes, the best student.
For you, a hellish nightmare that tried to crawl under your skin and wrap around your body like a deathly viper.
And so you ignored the threats. Broke most of your relationships, but didn’t quite reveal the reason. If he had a problem with you sleeping with one guy for a month or two, then… you simply had to stick to one-night stands and not show yourself on campus with any other men.
As long as you weren’t hanging onto anyone’s shoulder, it should be okay. Somehow, you would last the next year and leave this town behind. With the stalker hot on your heels and the presents stacked in your bedroom, one on top of another.
The middle of the second semester began quickly, with spring in full bloom and the sizzling sun once again letting you slip away for the pool parties at the jocks’ houses. You allowed yourself to get lost in the pleasures and madness of student life, with summer just around the corner. Only a few months left, and you would get a break from your stalker for the whole holidays.
But then… Suguru Geto confessed.
He came to your dorm with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, a small bun sitting high on his head, and pierced lips curling in a gentle smile, as he knocked on your dorm’s door. After months of following you obediently like a puppy, he knew every little thing about you.
Every mood swing of yours, each emotion, always oh so visible on your lovely face. He learned how to watch you, please you, and say the right things to become the perfect boyfriend.
He knew how your pussy smelled during the ovulation days. How you usually tasted, checking it each day with a pretty lingerie of yours pressed to his lips, and fingers pumping his leaking cock.
He learned the melody you always hummed under the shower and the brand of shampoo that made your hair smell like the sweetest garden.
He found out what you liked and hated in bed, all the kinks you wished to try. The way your fingers pressed to your swollen clit, whenever you stayed in your dorm room alone. How your breath hitched when you were close, and thighs squeezed around nothing, although he truly wished it was his head being squished between the heavenly softness that haunted his dreams.
And when you opened the door, he knew that it was now or never. He, finally, was worthy to ask for your love.
"Hi, baby," he said, glancing at your figure dressed in nothing but a skimpy gown.
Wrapping you a bit too tight, ending just above the mid-thighs and with perked nipples poking through the flimsy material.
A scowl bubbled in your throat, and you quickly, with full force, tried to close the door. But he was quicker, slipping his heavy shoe right into the small crack.
"Leave, or I’ll start screaming," you warned him, getting as an answer a low giggle.
He pushed the door easily, coming into your room. The dim light slipping from the night table bathed the small space with a soft glow. A few scented candles flickered on your desk and the bed of your roommate, as usual, was empty.
You took a few steps back, trying not to show any signs of panic.
The sudden fear that rose in your chest. Breath becoming slightly more hitched, fingers trembling around the gown you tried to pull down. Eyes fixed on him, as if he could attack any minute now.
But he, as always, was looking at you. Closely, carefully, with lavender warmth slipping up and down your body and a handsome smirk tugging on his lips. Long hair tickled his shoulder, swimming down along the muscular back dressed in leather jacket. Metal bars on his lips and eyebrows twinkled like coins under the spilling candle-flame, adding a sort of wickedness to his demeanour.
Suguru Geto was… handsome.
Dear lord, he was beautiful.
And as difficult as it was to swallow, you could not change the fact that your stalker was one of the prettiest men you had ever seen. With a horrendous and sinful character, yet the face of an angel.
So you allowed yourself to trace the broad back bulging under the jacket. The height looming over your shivering figure. Long fingers that gripped the bouquet and beefy thighs dressed in black jeans. The woodsy scent of his cologne wrapped around your senses in an utterly pleasurable way, melting you in its warmth.
You hated the way he made you feel. Confused, scared, and most of the time simply furious. But somehow, on some days, a bit too balmy. With a heat spreading all over your body, slipping under the chest, down the belly, between the thighs, as if the wickedness of his actions, the sheer idea of how obsessed he was with you, made you excited.
So then, while he stood in your dorm with a straightened back, you decided to wait. To see what other foolish plan would bloom in his devilish mind, only for you to bring it back to the headmaster.
"What the fuck do you want?" you snapped, crossing arms over your chest.
He took a step closer, lavender eyes mingling with an excitement of a source that made your spine tingle in an unpleasant way. Long hand extended towards you, pushing a lush bouquet right into your arms.
"Go out with me," he stated, not even curving his tone into a question.
A statement, rather, it was as if he was utterly sure that you would agree.
And you stood there with the same scowl that didn’t leave your forehead even for a second. Fingers wrapped around the heavy bouquet, nostrils tingling with the strong, flowery smell you loved so much.
But the wrath coiling beneath your chest was dangerously close to spilling. Eyes bulged, hearing the question he dared to push after months of acting like a psycho stalker and turning your life into madness. Everyone looked at you like a crazy, delusional woman who tried to frame a poor outcast as a maniac who, Suguru Geto, definitely wasn’t.
And now he had the audacity to stand in your bedroom, checking your body dressed in nothing but a flimsy robe, as a sly smile tugged at his lips.
"What did you just say?" Rolled in tremble, as you could barely stop the rage bubbling in your chest.
His head tilted. Long legs took another step closer. Until the big hand lifted to nuzzle your soft cheek, strong thumb brushing the skin aflame with fury.
"Go out with me, baby. Let me love you as you deserve it." The silkiness of his tone made your head spin, in both an unsettling pleasure and madness. "And if you don’t want to date me, use me. It’s been a while since you slept with someone, hm? Why won’t you just use me for your pleasure?"
Thumb slipped to your slightly parted lips. The urge to bite it and suck on it fought in your mind, bringing an irrational feeling that made your lower lip tremble right under his digit.
His words clearly stated that he, in fact, did not know that you hadn’t given up on sleeping with other men. Because if he did…
"Why so sure that I’m not fucking with anyone?" You muttered, tilting head in a cheeky manner.
As if you wanted to indulge yourself in the psychotic game of his, fully aware that you would always end up as a loser. Because for the past few months, Suguru Geto was never, ever, letting you win any of the tricks you tried to play on him. The reports, gathering the evidence, paying people to give him the lesson, although the next day he was always appearing back on the university’s lawn. Fully aware of all your miserable attempts.
Something in his eyes twinkled, but the smile didn’t come off his lips even for a second. "Do you?"
You smacked away his hand, and with a swing, shot the flowers through the room. Gentle petals smashed against the wall, falling pitifully on your roommate’s empty bed.
Before he could even look their way, your arms wrapped around his neck, perked nipples pressed against his torso as you lifted yourself up on tiptoes. The sweetness of your skin immediately enveloped his senses, and it seemed this sudden, intimate gesture left him speechless.
"Every. Single. Night." You whispered, tugging harshly on the long, silky hair curling behind his neck. His breath slipped out shuddered, and, for the first time, you noticed a true rage bubbling in his gaze. "Think you’re so smart? That I’m scared of your stupid threats?" He didn’t answer, allowing himself to cherish the softness of your body pressed to his. "I’m fucking every day with a different guy. Guys, maybe? Who knows, maybe I’m already knocked up stupid after all the cum they–"
His patience finally snapped.
One hand curled around your waist, the other lifted to squeeze your jaw before the last, nasty words would fully set his mind ablaze. The fingers dug painfully into your cheeks, the arm kept you in place, forbidding you from slipping away from the deathly clutches.
"Aren’t you a smartass, hm?" He chuckled, but his low voice was edged with the wrath that made the lavender irises narrow into a cat-eye glance. "I’m giving you an easy way out, baby. If you’re a fucking nymphomaniac, why won’t you make me your boy toy? Think I was joking?" He tugged you, drawing a soft groan from your throat. And as fear filled your body from head to toe, something exciting, maddeningly confusing, tingled in your fingertips.
"You are a fucking joke," a muffled mutter bounced off the walls, only making him squeeze your cheeks even harder.
"I don’t think you’re in a position to make me angry, baby," he leaned closer, his lips mere millimetres from yours.
Another move, and he could taste the sweetness of your lip gloss.
"Or what?" You snorted, enraging him even more. "You’ll kill me? Come on, psycho. At least I’ll get myself free from you."
Suguru never wanted to hurt you. He never wanted to do anything that would cause you even a moment's pain. But the way you spoke to him, the way your eyes twinkled with the truth of choosing death rather than spending another second in his presence, made his blood boil in a disgustingly dangerous way.
Your doe eyes fixed on his, lovely face twisted in a wicked smile as he finally loosened his grip on your cheeks.
"Is that your final answer, then?" He asked, low bass filling the small room. Candle flames licked a side of his face, with warm tongues and peppered kisses. A devil truly looking like an angel. "I promise you’ll regret it, baby."
And with a final scowl, you pushed him away. This time, he allowed you to do it without a fight.
To kick his massive body out of your room and smash the door till the tremor bounced off the corridors.
Back then, while gathering the beautiful flowers of the bed and pushing them all to the trash can, you didn’t know what consequences your decision would bring upon the lives of not just you, but all the other people you associated yourself with. The rage filled you from head to toe, making your mind go foggy from the dizziness and adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins.
Back then, you thought that the official rejection would finally stop all his attempts to coax you into this weird relationship he had made up in his head and give you a little breather.
So when you didn’t notice his presence around yourself for the next few days, a grain of hope bloomed beneath your heart. That maybe, he finally decided to leave you alone.
Your lingerie stopped disappearing, death threats were no longer found in your bag, and all the little presents stopped appearing on your bed. Life was getting back on track, and you could enjoy the last few months of university, hanging on jocks’ shoulders and slipping into parties every single weekend.
But as it would soon turn out, those few days of peace were nothing but a bad omen. The storm that would soon haunt not only your life but the whole campus itself.
As on the night one of the male students had left your dorm, he disappeared. Simply, just like that, only to be found two days later in the local forest. With body dismembered into pieces, head a few meters away from the torso.
When the news spread across the campus, not a single student or professor was left unshocked, their hearts shattered.
Did he have any enemies? People wondered. Did he find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time?
The police went to you first, of course, since you seemed to be the last person who saw him that night. But the two officers didn’t get anything from the stuttering, and weeping body of yours, with dark circles swollen under your eyes. As, in fact, you didn’t even know his name, after meeting at some party and taking back for a quick fuck to your room.
Weeks passed before you could somehow move on and find calmness within a company of another guy. Not a one-night stand, but simply someone whose kindness and gentlemanly manner made your mind flutter with peace. He talked to you gently and made a sweet, genuine laugh slip past your lips. A friend, companion, but of no love interest from your side.
And yet, after a while, he disappeared too. Only to be found in the lake, with a purple body bulging from the water and a head wrapped in a dirty sack.
This case… made you spiral into madness.
Because, as you would soon discover, men who got close to you in any way were always, always, going missing just a few days after exchanging a few simple words with you. Be it a random student working in a library or a waiter at your favourite dinner. It didn’t matter who they were to you, but a single glance at your face was enough to sentence them to death.
And whenever another person was disappearing, you always saw him.
Suguru Geto, looking at you from across the campus, with a diabolical smirk tugging at his lips. Of unmatched beauty, with cheeks, straight eyebrows, and almond-shaped eyes. Lavender gaze lingering, with an uncanny sense of a secret only the two of you knew. The love and obsession so heavy that he was ready to cut you off from any men if that would force you to crawl back to him.
So you simply stopped hanging around campus. You just gritted your teeth, hid face beneath the heavy hoodie, and left the room only for classes. Room – classes, room – classes, the route that, during the last month before the summer break, became your routine.
You made minimal contact with other men, be it people in your class or a cashier at the local supermarket. Avoided the parties, gatherings, hangouts, just to not risk anyone’s life any further.
Just one month, you thought, desperately wanting to move back to your parents’ house for the summer holidays.
To leave Suguru, the university, this whole mess behind, and lock yourself far away from all the problems you already caused.
And then, a few days before leaving, Shoko knocked on your door. And when you opened with a puffy face and a shirt dirty from a chocolate ice cream you just stuffed yourself with, she sighed heavily, quickly coming inside.
"Do you even have a roommate?" She asked, noticing that the other half of the room was always empty.
With a brief nod, you fell back on your bed and closed the book you had just been reading. Ice cream in a big paper cup was melting on your bedside table, and heavy curtains cut off the summer light in the stuffy room.
"She’s always hanging out with her boyfriend," you muttered, patting the place next to you.
Shoko took a seat, watching the misery furrow your face. "You can’t cut yourself off. It’s not healthy, you know?" she said, tugging a lock of your hair back behind an ear.
Your fingers fiddled with the old, pink tracksuit, picking on the little, plastic diamonds glued to the soft material.
"I don’t want anyone else to die," a low, almost crying voice filled the space as you desperately tried to hold back the tears already swirling behind your eyelids. "What if he’s going to hurt you?"
She wondered for a second, taking in your state, a pain ripping at her heart. "Don’t worry, I won’t let that bastard get anywhere near me. Besides, it seems that he only aims for your…" She bit down on the lower lip, as if not wishing to confirm what was already obvious. "Anyways, I thought that maybe we could have some fun tonight. Nothing crazy, just a simple funfair with me, Utahime and Yuki."
You looked up from behind the wet eyelashes, seeing the comforting smile on your friend’s face.
"I don’t think I’m in the mood for fun," another sigh escaped your tightened throat. "Besides, he can follow me there."
She hummed, nodding her chestnut head. Short hair curled around the lean cheeks, and a single cigarette was pushed behind an ear.
"Well, how about you slip away through the window? He won’t notice you leaving the dorm. His room is on the other side of the building; he won’t even see you cross the lawn."
A low giggle slipped past your lips, seeing a cheeky grin lift her lips. "And how do you know that?"
"I think you truly underestimate your friends. Yuki’s boyfriend is friends with his roommate, the nerd guy, Satoru. We’ll make sure he keeps him entertained for a few seconds," Shoko laughed, squinting her eyes like a sly kitty. "Besides, there’s some weird metal band in town. I’m sure he and the rest of Addam’s Family will hang out there. He already knows you’re too scared to even leave your room, so… he won’t suspect anything."
The plan indeed sounded good. And as your room was on the first floor, slipping away would be easy. The worst that could happen was a small scratch, but it seemed worth it to experience even the simplest moment of joy before leaving your friends for two months.
At the same time… the fear was eating you alive. The thought that he might somehow be able to track your location sent a shiver down your spine. Made your mind freeze, heart trying to leap from the tightened chest. You didn’t want to hear about any more murders. Didn’t want to befriend kind, innocent people who would meet a tragic end only because of the psychotic stalker who cared for you in his sick, twisted manner.
And yet, without a second thought, you nodded, drawing a squeak from Shoko’s beaming face. She pulled you into a tight, warm hug, a sweet fragrance of perfume and cigarette smoke wrapping around your senses.
"So get your ass up now and go take a shower," She said, pushing you towards the door. "I’ll prepare a little special outfit for our night out."
The bathroom was empty when you entered, but no one interrupted your long, warm shower. No heavy footsteps bounced off the tiled walls, and no one’s silky hair peeked down at your naked body. It felt almost unusual, yet you tried to enjoy this intimate moment of peace just as you used to, with the same melody hummed softly beneath the dripping rain and a sweet body wash lathering your skin.
Colours seemed to slowly spread across your cheeks, the purple smooched disappeared from under your eyes, and a heavy, relaxed breath escaped your throat.
The life, even for a slippery second, felt as if it was back under your control.
When you turned to the room, a small, shocked gasp rolled off your tongue.
"I am not wearing that!" You scowled, looking at the set Shoko prepared for you.
You had long forgotten about the tight, extremely short pink skirt and the sparkling white top that were hidden in your wardrobe. A set of white lingerie lay right next to them, and your heart almost stopped at the bra, thin enough to make your perked nipples visible through the flimsy top.
"What do you mean? You wore it so many times before!" she exclaimed, adding a pair of big hoops and milky-white heels. "Come on, don’t be a prude!"
"I’m not, but…" but what if some guy tries to talk to me, and he will be there, and…
"Nuh-uh, stop. I can read your thoughts," Shoko said, quickly wiping a towel over your naked body. Her chestnut eyes slid up and down your figure, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips. "Mhm, perfect. Dress up and let me do your make-up."
So after an hour and a long fight over the crimson lipstick that smudged your lips in an utterly whorish way, you and Shoko, under the sky blanketed in darkness, finally slipped away through the window. Bags fell onto the lawn first, heels following right after, only for your stupidly giggling lips to shush each other as you ran across campus.
Yuki and Shoko were already waiting outside, and when you saw them crouched behind the bushes, a loud, alive laugh filled the warm summer night.
"Why didn’t you wait in the car?" You asked, slipping into the passenger seat.
Yuki started the car, slowly reversing from the university’s car park. "For your entertainment, dear." She chuckled before pulling onto the main road.
After ten minutes of laughing and chit-chatting in the car, with music blasting from the speakers and Yuki’s cabriolet swooshing along the forest roads, you finally noticed the lights.
Red, orange, and purple, with a Ferris wheel looming over the dark, haunted house, rollercoasters, and multiple colourful booths filling the place with a mixture of burnt popcorn and sweet cotton candy. The tacky music beamed from the stickers, bouncing off the nearby lake, hidden just behind the deep forest.
Children, teenagers and students filled the park to the brim, with plastic red cups or paper boxes of food in their hands. Men tried to show off their muscles, hitting the high striker again and again until the golden bell buzzed with a red alarm, tickling your earlobes. A few squeaks escaped from the haunted house after a group of girls left it, laughing and giggling, while another group just entered, fear twisting their faces.
It seemed perfect, joyful and carefree, lifting a heavy burden from your shoulders and allowing you to experience a moment of happiness.
Shoko wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you towards the entrance.
After an hour, you completely forgot about the terror that had haunted you for the past year. You couldn’t count the cans of beer you drank, the amount of caramel popcorn that filled your belly with sweetness, all the times you almost barfed on the rollercoaster, and your miserable attempts to win a plush toy in darts.
Some men looked behind their shoulders to sense a direction from which sugary laughter was coming. Some tried to talk to you, but all three girls were immediately taking you away from their clutches, knowing that the presence of another guy was the last thing you needed.
But then all of them left for the haunted house, which you refused to enter, and suddenly became easy prey. Easy enough for someone to come into your line of sight and let out a chuckle when another soft ball didn’t hit the moving object.
"I’m sorry, but you really suck at it," a low voice whispered in your ear, and you quickly looked over your shoulder.
A young man, surely your age, with coffee-coloured eyes that mingled like little stars and sandy hair brushed slightly back. He stood tall, with broad shoulders bulging beneath the blueish shirt. Muscular arms peeked from beneath the short sleeves, with a few creamy buttons revealing his warm chest.
Your lips pouted. "I’m not that bad."
"It’s the fourth time you lost it."
Sixth, almost slipped away, but instead, you let out a giggle.
His eyes scanned your face, taking in the loveliness warming your skin, before drifting towards a booth filled with plushies.
"So which one do you want?" He asked, giving the cashier a few dollars for another try.
You bit the plush inside of the cheek, pointing with a finger at the big, black cat with yellow eyes and a pinkish nose.
"He looks mischievous," a man murmured, nevertheless sending you a smile.
His legs spread a bit wider, and his body leaned over to get a better view of the moving cans.
"I like them a bit mischievous," you said, moving yourself to stand right next to him.
With a corner of the eye, you noticed his gaze on your warm cheeks, before he looked back towards the game. "I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m a nice guy."
The first ball flew, hitting right in the middle of the small can. You gasped, shooting your head towards him. To look at the cheeky smile and sandy brows curving up.
"You did not!"
He shrugged, rolling a chuckle. "Not bad, hm?"
Another three balls in his hand disappeared just as quickly. One by one, each hitting the can with force, until the metal cups fell to the ground. The cashier seemed just as surprised and charmed as you, watching the blue veins bulge on his forearms and squinting at the aim.
When the last can fell, you suddenly, without a further thought, grabbed his shoulders and started jumping with loud squeaks.
"Oh my god! Amazing!" The pure happiness lighting your face swelled his heart with pride as he pointed a finger at the big, black cat.
"Here you go, pretty," He said, a gentle rosiness kissing his lips as he pushed the plush into your arms.
A bit too small to hug it fully, slightly bigger than your chest.
"Pretty?" Fell rather cheeky, as you walked towards one of the benches.
The warm summer air coated your body, hair stuck to the glossed lips, and you noticed the way his finger curled into a fist, as if wishing to push those few strands away.
"Well, aren’t you?" He scratched the back of his neck at the poor attempt to crack a flirty joke.
And as heartwarming as it was, maybe a little cheesy, you smiled, nuzzling cheek into the soft fur of your new gift.
"Mhm, whatever you say, handsome."
This time, his lean cheeks blazed with colour. Eyes slipped over your shoulder, as if the loveliness of your eyes was simply too much to bear. Cute.
"I’m Nanami," he said, coffee eyes finally meeting yours once again. "I was watching you for a while and thought you were pretty…"
The shyness creeping up his neck melted your heart. He was handsome, of course he was, with a sharp jaw and sandy hair, a few golden strands as if licked by the sun's rays. Eyes deep and warm, like sweet cocoa, held the damnedest purity that men your age usually did not possess. Pale skin, coated with a sheen of sweat, fingers curling and straightening under the weight of your gaze.
You sat down on the nearby bench, nothing but a black cat keeping your thighs from touching each other.
"Are you trying to flirt with me, Nanami?" You asked, turning head his way.
"Is it working?"
You hummed, leaning closer with a devilish smile dancing on your lips. "I think you’re pretty cute."
Nanami turned out to be the utmost gentleman. Always paying attention to everything you said, listening with pricked ears and quick nods. Sometimes the conversation turned to him, but more often to you. And although you thought of yourself as a rather boring person, Nanami enjoyed every word that slipped past your lips.
He seemed rather boring, but kind, shy, and utterly curious about your persona. Making a pleasurable warmth bubble in your belly and a wicked need to coax him into your arms. To use him for your own satisfaction, as back in the days when you enjoyed spending your nights with men too good to hang out with girls of your sort.
And soon you started leaning closer. And closer, placing the cat on the other side of the bench, pressing your thighs together. He was sweetly, utterly aware of your presence. Of the sweetness that filled his nostrils, the warmth of your body and giggles kissing his earlobes.
"I was thinking…" fell sweetly, with your breasts stuck to his arm.
"Maybe we could move somewhere quieter?" A lovely pout formed on your lips, doe eyes lurking up from beneath the curtain of lashes. "There’s a lake nearby. And I could reaaally use a cold swim right now."
You felt a tremor slip down his spine. The goosebumps rising on the skin of his bicep, you curled fingers around. A bulge in his trousers that made your eyes twinkle and lips lift in a wicked smile.
"But you don’t h-have a swimsuit," he said, perfectly knowing how stupid his reasoning was.
Because the lack of a swimsuit was, indeed, the whole point of this secret meeting.
So when a low, "Do you mind?" Slipped past your lips, he quickly shook his head.
"Let’s meet in ten, then." You said, before walking away towards the hidden beach with a gentle sway of your hips and a big cat wrapped within your arms.
It was safer to meet there separately. The reasons were obvious, but Nanami didn’t need to know them. There was no need, as for the past few hours you had been carefully scanning the park for the dark, heavy shoes and their owner, a face that still haunted your dreams.
It seemed he truly had no idea of your whereabouts, so the invitation seemed quite safe. Nanami appeared too good to get himself tangled up in your whole mess, yet the egoistic, carnal need for pleasure was far stronger than the need to keep a clear mind.
The short path through the dark forest led you towards a small beach, with trees looming over the crystal water and the moon peeking through the thick branches. Crickets hummed a summer melody, gentle waves crashed over the soft sand and without a second thought, you started undressing yourself.
The top, skirt, heels, followed by the flimsy white lingerie. A shiver ran down your spine when you dipped your feet in the water. Lukewarm, but still cooling your body in such a pleasing way. You slowly went further, and further, till the lake wrapped around your hips and moonlight bounced off the crystal droplets gathering on your skin.
Soft sigh slipped past your lips as you immersed yourself fully, with only your head peeking over the calm surface.
After a while, you finally heard footsteps slowly coming towards the beach. Nanami was close, and so you went back to the shore, slowly, slowly, walking out of the lake, with beads coating your naked body. Hanging off the perked nipples, nuzzling into the collarbones, dripping down your pussy, and a sheer sight of you could make one recall legends of water nymphs. With a beauty that unlatched heaven itself, carrying a wicked spell that spiralled men into madness.
When the shadow lurked from between the bending trees, your lips curled. Head tilted, mind already imagined the fever that would hit his lovely, virgin cheeks.
"Nan–"
And yet, before the name could fully roll off your lips, your breath hitched instead.
Because the man who appeared in front of you wasn’t him. The kind boy you met just minutes ago.
No, but instead Satan himself. Demon, nightmare, a fiend plaguing your life since the year before.
With a tall, muscular body dressed in black, heavy shoes wrapped around his ankles, creamy skin drenched… in blood. Long fingers wrapped around the long knife, and this damned smile bubbled behind the lavender irises.
"You–" a shuddered breath escaped your tightened throat, body suddenly a lot more naked than it should.
Everything you showed, exposed, and wanted to offer wasn’t meant to be seen by him.
And Suguru Geto knew it. Oh, he knew too well, and that’s why the lavender gaze travelled up and down your body with a satisfaction.
"Hi, baby," he said, slightly tilting his head. "Why the surprised face? Have you waited for someone else?"
You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to confirm the obvious. Instead, your hands lifted to cover the soaked breasts, eyes quickly fell on the clothes left messily on the sand. Four big steps and you could at least grab the lingerie.
But Suguru noticed the way your gaze wandered, and a small gasp escaped his lips. He was faster, with long legs carrying him to your panties before you could take a step, body still frozen in fear. With one hand gripping the knife, he bent over and grabbed the dirty panties with the other.
"Such a pretty set. All for me?" He giggled, lifting the material to his nose. You could hear a low moan as he took a deep, heavy sniff with utter pleasure. Pervert. "Fuck, baby. You always smell so fucking good." Before you could snap back, his tongue peeked out past the pierced lip, taking a long, moany lick of your juices, lavender eyes not leaving your face for a second. "And taste like heaven."
Something bubbled in your belly. A mix of emotions too strange to identify, making your mind spin into a fury and spine tingle with a craving too queer to admit. The sole fact that standing naked in front of your stalker felt…
"Where’s Nanami?" you added quickly, trying to ignore the way your thighs clenched the moment Suguru moaned around your panties.
He took a step closer, coming your way at an unhurried pace. Panties hidden in the back pocket of his jeans, a thumb brushing away your juice, mixed with a crimson liquid on his cheek.
Suguru shrugged, eyes still fixed on your face. "Who?"
Your fingers turned into fists, as "What did you do to him, psycho?" fell through the gritted teeth.
But the gentle crease appearing between your brows melted Suguru’s heart. Low chuckle bounced off the calm water, as he was only a few steps away. If he wanted to, he could simply extend his hand and grab you by the neck.
"Baby, I really thought you learned your lesson," an angelic pout twisted his lips, as he pressed the drenched knife to his cheek. "Let me think… are you talking about the guy who was coming to see you? Blond, slightly shorter than me?"
When a terror flickered behind your gaze, his eyes lightened. "Ah, so that was him? Well, I didn’t like the fact that he was coming to meet my girl," Lavender irises dropped down to your breasts covered by your hands, before slipping towards the soft belly, hips, mound of your pussy, with a low growl tickling your ears. "Fuck, baby. I’m so happy this fucker’s dead. I can’t believe–"
Before Suguru could finish, you took a step.
And the next one, and another, before your palm met with his cheek. You didn’t expect the hit to be that hard, and yet he stumbled and fell on the soft sand. With a shock crossing his face and hand lifting to grab his burning skin.
"Bab–"
You launched towards him, your hips straddling his, palms pressing his shoulders down until his head hit the ground. Everything felt too weird, unnatural, as burning rage took over your mind and adrenaline pulsed beneath your skin.
Another slap echoed from the looming trees, and when his head flew to the left, you quickly turned it right with the next hit. And the next, next, counting each man who died because of you. The jock, the kind guy, the diner waiter, the student from the library… Nanami.
One hit more ruthless than another, but the adrenaline cooed over the sizzling pain that ripped your palms. No tears ran down your face, no trembling washed over your spine.
It was a wrath that had been simmering beneath your heart for months and finally found a way to spill in a deeply dishonourable way, leaving you filled with disgust for the violence he forced upon you.
When you finally finished, with deep breaths slipping one by one through your parted lips and eyes looking down at his face, a sort of peace dripped into your mind. Upon seeing a thin thread of blood trickling down his lips and a nasty, lavender bruise slowly forming high on cheeks.
He lay still with a mix of shock and absolute, loving madness that slipped in a shudder past the bloody traces on his face.
If Suguru Geto had thought he already loved you those few minutes before, now, with your naked body straddling his and cheeks pulsing from a beating he had himself awakened in you – he wasn’t sure whether love was enough to describe the devotion his heart swelled with.
Your breasts rose with deep breaths, lips slightly parted, while your hands still pressed his shoulder into the sand. And before he could speak, your finger hooked around his lip piercing, pulling him forward as pain shot through every nerve the metal had struck.
"Stop fucking testing me," you growled, with squinted eyes looking straight into his. "Think you’re so smart? I know your psychotic ass is too miserable to lay a finger on me. Pull another stunt like that and I’ll fucking kill you," you launched him forward, without a care whether the lip ring would rip through the skin. "Do you understand?"
He quickly nodded, but the heart-shaped irises were enough to raise another wave of fury beneath your chest.
And when he thought you would stand up and simply walk away, leaving him on a sand with a blood trickling down his chin and a hard cock trying to rip through his pants, you…
Kissed him. Smashed your lips against his, licking clean the crimson liquid pooling on his skin.
Suguru was already taken by surprise, but now, feeling your warmth so close to his body, he could swear that heaven was nowhere but in the taste of your sweet breath.
He moaned, drinking the saliva dripping from your lips and feeling the wet pussy rolling against his bulging jeans. Your hands lifted to his cheeks, squeezing them tight till another pitiful groan slipped right into your mouth.
And when his big palms landed on your hips, you pulled back, giving him yet another slap. "Don’t fucking touch me, you psycho."
Your words fell harshly, but the desire bubbling in your lower belly and sticky juices coating his jeans were enough evidence to make you feel utterly, madly turned on by the miserable state he allowed you to put him in.
"Baby, fuck, sit on my face, I’m begging you," he moaned, looking down at the long, silky thread that dripped down from your cunt right onto his bulge.
The sheer sight made his mind spin, and when you moved over his face, Suguru was sure that blood started dripping from his nose.
"I don’t care if you’ll suffocate, but you better make me cum," you stated, looking down into his dazed eyes.
Knowing fully well that the death between your thighs would bring him the peace he did not deserve.
With one move, you sat yourself on his face, tongue already peeking out and plastered to meet the heavenly sweetness of your cunt. A low, loud groan filled your drenched walls as he could finally savour the flavour he had craved for so long.
Lavender eyes rolled back, muscular body trembled as you sat with your full weight, till his teeth grazed your swollen clit and tongue sealed the leaking entrance. He drank the honeyed saps like a man starved, lapping through your folds with low moans and shallow breaths. Getting himself intoxicated by the creaminess trickling down his throat and coating the inside of plush cheeks with a sheen of sugar.
His hand immediately slipped down to his cock, fiddling with a belt, only to pull out a massive, leaking shaft that hit his abdomen. You looked over your shoulder, mouth watering at the sheer sight of the monstrosity he dared to keep hidden all this time.
He did offer to be your boy toy, and maybe, maybe, you would think it over, knowing the fatness that could poke each and every nerve deep inside your pussy.
When his lips curled around your clit, sucking on the swollen button, your hips rolled in pleasure.
"Fuck," you moaned, feeling a smirk already tugging on his bloody lips.
The metal rings felt slightly cold, bringing a weird pleasure to the heat that ripped you from the inside.
His long fingers curled around the thick shaft, pumping it in slow, lazy strokes. The reddened head pulsed as if ready to burst, balls contracted whenever your hips rolled over and over again, smearing his chin, cheeks, nose in a creamy cum.
His tongue fluttered around your clit, folds, poking inside the tightening cunt. When his other hand slipped up to grab your tit, you allowed it with a soft groan. Long fingers rolled the hardened nipple, squeezing the fat that fit into his palm just right.
"My sweetest," he pulled slightly away, forcing a frown upon your lovely forehead. "That desperate to get fucked, huh? I’m sorry my baby needed to wait that long."
It could look as if he was talking to you, but, in fact, his squinted eyes were nowhere but on your glistening pussy. With another wave of cum already sticking to his lips and lonely hole clenching desperately around nothing.
"My–"
"Stop talking," you muttered, grabbing a fistful of his silky hair, only to push him towards your cunt. "I’m far from cumming."
And he did as you ordered, plastering himself again to the heaven between your legs.
This time, he lapped more hungrily. With lips, tongue, nose poking all your sweetest buds, sucking on the trembling clit and pushing, pushing, pushing inside the weeping cunt. Each roll of your hips tugged painfully on his piercing, but he didn’t mind.
No, but rather took a carnal pleasure from the heaviness of your body, feeling that dangerous warmth bubbling in his loins.
And you were no better, with head falling behind and eyes closing from the ecstasy that was ready to spill any second. Looking back on his cock, you moaned, already imagining the fat, leaking shaft nuzzled deep inside your pussy. With a slightly curved head hitting your womb and a warm cum filling you to the brim.
"Oh fuck, I’m close," an almost inaudible whisper rolled off your tongue, but Suguru caught it in time.
With a sly smirk and lips sucking on your clit harsher, till the plumped bud trembled on his tongue, leaking a few droplets of sap.
His face turned red, for you really cut the air off and made him suffer in pleasure, strangled beneath your oozing cunt. Eyes rolled back again, a low groan spread through your pussy, sending another wave of climax down your spine.
And within the next few rolls and his tongue digging deep inside your soft walls – you finally cummed. Gushed, all over his face, drenching it in splatters of crystal droplets, landing in his mouth, on cheeks, dripping down the forehead. Your thighs squeezed around his head, a pitched moan left parted lips, and fingers grabbed his hair tighter.
You trembled, and trembled, feeling the ambrosial orgasm tickle your spine. Probably the first and best given to you through oral sex alone.
And as embarrassing as it was to admit, Suguru was, by far, the only man who made you moan that loud.
You didn’t have a moment to catch your breath. No strength to lift yourself up from his body. And to him it was of no problem, as the second later, the world spanned only for you to find yourself under him.
With thighs glued to your chest and ass slightly lifted up.
"I told you–"
His lips fell onto yours before you could finish, drawing a sweet moan from your throat.
"My poor baby is in heat," he muttered, licking a long stripe of your sweating cheek. "Let me take care of you. You waited so fucking long, didn't you?"
"And whose fault is that?" You snapped, feeling his smirk back onto your lips.
He kissed you messily, yet with a sweetness and care you would never associate with a psycho of his sort.
"I told you," he started, pulling away to take his shirt off. Muscles upon muscles glistened under the moonlight spilling through the trees, dark locks cascading down to his hips. "You will regret rejecting my love."
His trousers quickly joined the shirt on the sand, and soon he was hanging over you naked. With a heavy cock lying on your belly and droplets of precum leaking onto your belly button. It burned down through your skin – the hefty girth that made your mind spin from the sight alone.
He didn’t cum, as if waiting to release himself deep within the warmth of your pussy, and his next "Last time you mentioned something about getting knocked up, hm?", only confirmed the nasty thoughts already bubbling in your skull.
"Don’t know how to use a condom?" You bit down on lower lip, deep inside knowing that you yourself would throw that condom away.
There was simply no way you would pass up a chance to feel such a monstrous shaft deep inside you. His big palms hook under your thighs, folding you even further, till the breath alone slipped in trembled gasps and chest squeezed under the heaviness of his body.
And yet, you still tried to expose yourself even further, moving your hips in desperate need to meet the long-craved fraction and the maddening stretch. It felt so embarrassing, humiliating, to get yourself drunk on the pleasure that tickled your fingertips and made your lips fall open.
Dizziness already coiled behind your eyes, and Suguru could see it clearly. In the way you looked at his leaking cock, with this slutty, needy gaze.
"Do you want me to use it, baby?" He chuckled, leaning himself down. Only lick a long stripe down your neck, feeling the sweat tickle his taste buds. "Tell me you don’t dream about getting fucked raw and stupid."
A moan slipped past your lips when the head of his cock smooched your entrance, and lips sucked on sensitive skin right beneath your jaw. "Just do it already, fuck."
"Tell me you love me," He murmured, teeth grazing one of your pulsing veins. "Tell me you’ll stay, and I promise to give you everything."
Hips already rolling, as you tried to get yourself closer to his fatness. To the tip that oozed with sticky precum and the heat radiating from his cock.
A pathetic mewl escaped your throat as he sank himself a bit deeper. But only the plump head, that already marked the painful stretch you would surely get after the rest of the shaft followed.
"Stop dreaming, you psycho," you gritted through your teeth, pushing out even more of the cum that wrapped in a creamy ring around his cock. You stretched your hand, taking a fistful of his hair, only to pull him closer. Till your lips crashed in another kiss, the dried blood sticking to your maws. "Fuck me stupid, and I’ll think about it."
And Suguru, as desperate as he was, needed only those few, mean words to shove his massive shaft deep inside your pussy.
A loud scream bounced off the trees, soon muffled by his lips, drinking in every cry, every moan that started spilling out.
The stretch was as painfully ecstatic as you expected, spinning your mind with drowsiness and rolling eyes into the skull. He filled every corner, every fold of your plush hole, till the reddened head smooched your womb. You trembled from head to toe upon a sudden intrusion, and the way he immediately started moving.
Pushing, thrusting, shoving his cock till the balls squelched against your lifted ass, and nasty splashing filled the little beach. He kept you in place, with muscular arms folding you in half and lips licking, sucking, and biting on the sensitive skin of your neck. Chest plastered to your nipples, brushing the perked buds each time he rammed his cock inside your weeping cunt.
The air felt sticky and steamy, with the sweetness of your breaths mixing whenever another moan slipped past your lips, and Suguru watched carefully as pleasure twisted your face.
The ethereal beauty that warmed your cheeks, eyes lidded in delight, a stream of spit dripping down your chin, before he licked it with a low, nasty groan.
"Fuck, baby, I waited so long," He muttered, mind spinning into madness whenever your plush cunt clamped on his cock. "So hungry, weren't you?"
When his fingers slipped between your bodies, only to press against your clit, a pitched, "Mmm y-yeah, fuck, I hate you so much," rolled right into his smirking lips.
He chuckled, shoving his shaft faster, deeper, till a small bulge appeared right under your belly button. "Do you? Because I thought you, ugh, liked them a bit mischievous, huh?"
You heard those words somewhere before. Maybe because they were the same words said to Nanami.
But then, with his cock stuffing you, nasty, full and plush lips caressing yours, you couldn’t give a single fuck about how he knew about them. The only thing that mattered was his heavy, beefy body pressed to yours, leaving barely any space for the warm air that desperately tried to slip between your sweating skins.
"Suguru," a lovely mewl escaped your throat when his curved tip hit your sweet spot inside. Ramming into it relentlessly, with a force that drove your body into the sand. "So, oh god, you fill me so good."
His lips met your jaw, chin, lavender eyes tracing each scowl of your face. "You love it, don’t you, baby?" Big thumb rolled the swollen clit, pulling another pinched moan from your throat. "I know, baby, you love it so fucking much. And if I’ll do this," He rammed his tip against your spot again, before nuzzling it right against the plumped womb. "You will cum very, very soon."
And he was right. Pushing all your buttons, kneading your body in all the right places as if he knew exactly how to make a warmth bubble in your belly.
Fingers of one hand dug painfully into the backs of your thighs as you opened them even further, letting him slip into you even deeper.
"Talk to me, baby." He ordered, feeling the erratic clenching of your walls. "Tell me how much you love me."
"I love it–ahhh," rolled instead, and you could feel a dissatisfied tsk bouncing off your chin.
"No, baby," his teeth sank into your neck, his thumb pressing on your clit even harder. "Come on, baby, tell me how much you fucking love me. I’ll kill every man you’ll ever try to talk to. Hell, I’ll slash your pretty friends’ throats if they try to keep me away from you." Each nasty word was marked by a more brutal roll of his lips. Till the sweet pleasure of smooching your womb soon turned into your painful cries. "Say it, say that you love me."
The warmth in your lower belly was ready to spill, head lulled to the side only to be brought back by his lips, tugging harshly on yours. He bit into them, then licked the swell with a coo, as if trying to coax you into the madness-confession he had waited so long for.
And you, wrapped around the heavy weight of his cock inside your cunt and the way he made your feet curl in pleasure, finally, unfortunately, had given up.
"Suguru, I love you–nghh–s-so fucking much," a sweet mewl slipped past your lips. "So good, fuck, you feel so fucking good. I love you, love you, love you, love you–"
Your desperate cries were muffled by his low groan, dripping into your throat, as he finally stilled.
With cock kissing your womb, lips lick the tears rolling in the corners of your eyes and a thumb pinching the trembling clit.
You came with a loud cry, squirting all over his beefy thighs, abdomen, soaking the trembling shaft that started filling your clamping walls with waves and waves of cum. Its stickiness glueing to your soft insides, creamy droplets plugging you so full, till the milky threads spilled from the rim of your cunt.
And in the brief moment when Suguru Geto let his guard down, your fingers seized the long knife left messily on the sand and, with a single furious thrust, drove it deep into his left thigh.
A low groan slashed through the air when the shimmering iron struck his thick muscles, sending a painful wave over his spine.
You rolled his heavy body off, milky cum still dripping down your thighs and eyes…
Eyes looking no better than his. With heart-shaped irises glancing down at his body wrinkling in pain, with a sweet giggle, as you finally felt the winning pleasure spreading all over your chest.
His naked, muscular figure sprawled on the sand, cock already getting hard once again, upon seeing the bloody, sticky mess you left on him. Lavender gaze gazed up to you with a swelling devotion, and you needed to grit your teeth not to give him one last slap.
Instead, you started dressing yourself, slowly, with eyes squinted and lips tugged by a sly smile.
"I should fucking kill you," tickled his ears, and he could only give you a short nod. "But it would be a waste of resources," your eyes slipped onto his already leaking cock.
"I’ll come over tonight, baby," he mumbled, wrapping his hand around your ankle. If he could, he would crawl behind you, but the pain slashing through his thigh was already spiralling him into dizziness. "Fucking, wait for me, I’ll come over."
"I’ll be taking a shower in two hours, and I expect to see you there," you said with a final low hum and a tilt of your head, before walking away.
And Suguru… he had to jerk himself twice before he could finally stand up, swaying and pain swirling droplets of sweat on his neck. Yet, neither death nor such a minor injury could ever keep him away from his sweet, precious girl.
You know what, I kind feel sorry for Nanami... anyways, pyramidhead Toji next! I haven't written Toji for such a long time! I hope you enjoyed the first story <3
not in the embarrassing way. not in the clingy, overbearing way people always assume when they see you wrapped around him with your cheek pressed into his shoulder while he scrolls through his phone.
just openly.
like loving him is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.
at the beginning of your relationship, you used to ask before every touch.
“can i hold your hand?”
“is this okay?”
“do you want space?”
sae remembers the first time you asked if you could hug him.
you stood outside your apartment after your third date, fingers hooked behind your back, swaying slightly on your heels while looking at him with careful eyes.
not nervous.
considerate.
like you were trying to learn the shape of him before touching anything fragile.
“you can say no,” you told him quickly. “i just like hugging you.”
sae stared at you for a second. then said yes.
and you hugged him like it meant something.
not casually. not absentmindedly.
you wrapped your arms around him with this quiet sort of sincerity that made his chest feel oddly tight.
he remembers standing there thinking:
oh.
so this is what it feels like to be wanted gently.
months later, you’re practically melted across him on the couch while he rewatches match footage.
one of your legs thrown over his lap. your cheek against his shoulder. fingers playing lazily with the ends of his hair while he scrolls through clips on his tablet.
“you’re staring again,” he says without looking away from the screen.
“i know.”
“why.”
you hum thoughtfully, like this requires genuine analysis.
“i like your face.”
“that’s vague.”
“okay,” you murmur, shifting slightly so you can look at him properly. “you also have very delicate eyelashes.”
“. . .”
“they look soft.”
“they are eyelashes.”
“mhm. pretty ones." your thumb smooths against his temple. “they curl at the ends when you’re tired.”
sae finally glances at you then.
you’re looking at him with unbearable fondness. soft-eyed and completely serious.
like this is important information.
you smile a little when he looks back. “there you are.”
“what does that mean.”
“you disappear into your head sometimes.” another gentle stroke through his hair. “i like when you come back.”
something in his chest shifts quietly at that.
you always notice things.
small things.
the difference between his exhausted silences and his irritated ones. the way his shoulders loosen after a shower. how he taps his fingers against his leg when he’s thinking too hard about something.
you notice all of it like memorising him is instinctive.
and somehow, instead of making him feel watched, it only makes him feel known.
you’re always touching him when you’re alone together.
your hand in his hair. your face pressed into his neck. your fingers tracing slow shapes against his arm while you talk to him about whatever strange thought has crossed your mind that night.
you ask him questions at one in the morning while half asleep against his chest.
“do you think people stay the same forever underneath everything, or do they become entirely different versions of themselves every few years?”
or,
“if soccer never existed, what kind of person do you think you would’ve become?”
sometimes the conversations last for hours. sometimes they fade naturally into silence while your fingertips drift absentmindedly against his skin.
sae likes both equally.
especially because you never seem uncomfortable with quiet. you just like being near him.
and you love him so visibly.
that’s probably the part that unsettled him most in the beginning.
you never acted embarrassed by how much you adored him.
you looked happy when he walked into a room.
your entire face softened whenever you looked at him for too long.
you called him cute constantly, which had genuinely annoyed him at first.
the first time you said it, he thought you were joking.
“you’re cute when you’re irritated,” you told him one evening while he stared at you flatly from across the kitchen.
“that’s not a compliment.”
“to you maybe,” you’d replied easily.
the problem was that you always sounded so sincere.
you never called him handsome or hot. never used the kind of compliments he was used to hearing from other people.
only cute.
but when you said it, it sounded strangely precious. like you were calling attention to parts of him nobody else noticed.
sae gets home late most nights.
between training, media appearances, travel, and sponsorship obligations, exhaustion settles deep into his bones more often than not. there are days where he barely feels like speaking by the time he reaches the apartment.
and then he opens the front door.
there’s usually about two seconds of silence before he hears your voice from somewhere inside.
“sae?”
then the sound of quick footsteps.
the first time you slid around the hallway corner in socks, you nearly slammed directly into the wall trying to get to him faster. now he expects it.
“you’re going to hurt yourself one day,” he says automatically as you hurry toward him.
“probably,” you admit easily before wrapping your arms around his waist anyway.
you always hug him immediately after he gets home. like you’ve been waiting to do it all day.
your cheek presses against his chest while you mumble a quiet, “welcome home.”
it does something strange to him every time.
because nobody has ever said those words to him like they truly meant it.
like home was a person instead of a place.
his hand settles instinctively at the back of your head. “were you waiting long?”
“not really.”
he knows that’s a lie immediately.
there’s a blanket tangled on the couch and a book lying open beside it. one of the lamps is still on. you probably fell asleep trying to wait for him again.
when he points it out, you only shrug sheepishly.
“i wanted to see you first.”
you always say things like that so simply.
never expecting anything in return.
never making him feel guilty for being busy.
you have your own life. your own friends and routines and responsibilities. but somehow you still make space for him so naturally that being loved by you never feels heavy.
there are nights where you climb directly into his lap halfway through a conversation and bury your face into his shoulder without warning.
“hi,” you mumble against his neck.
“. . . hi?”
“pick me up.”
“you’re already on top of me.”
“properly.”
he sighs like you’re inconveniencing him, but his hands are already moving to your waist before he even finishes speaking.
you grin victoriously when he stands with you clinging to him like a koala.
“you’re needy.”
“and you adore me," you tell him with complete certainty.
sae looks at you for a long moment before answering.
“. . . obviously.”
your expression softens every single time he says things like that, no matter how casually.
like part of you still can’t fully believe he means it.
truthfully, sae doesn’t think he fully understands it either sometimes.
that someone can know him this well and still love him this gently.
sometimes he comes home and finds you asleep on the couch waiting for him.
those nights affect him more than he likes admitting.
he’ll walk into the apartment quietly and see you curled beneath a blanket with a book slipping from your lap, glasses slightly crooked from sleep while the lamp beside you casts warm light across your face.
you always try so hard to stay awake for him.
and always fail eventually.
he stands there for a moment just looking at you before setting his bag down.
“baby,” he murmurs softly.
you wake slowly every time, blinking at him with sleepy confusion before your entire expression changes the second you recognise him.
“sae . . .”
your voice is rough with sleep.
warm.
you sit up right away despite still looking half unconscious, reaching for him on instinct alone.
“you’re home,” you mumble, like you’d been thinking about that fact all evening.
he leans down automatically when your hands cup his face.
you stare at him for a second, eyes heavy-lidded as you look over his features carefully, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes.
“you look tired,” you whisper.
“long day.”
a small frown appears on your face for exactly two seconds before you lean forward and press a soft kiss to his forehead.
then another to his cheek.
then one to the corner of his mouth.
and then suddenly you’re kissing him everywhere with sleepy determination. gentle little kisses scattered across his face while your fingers slide into his hair.
his jaw.
his cheekbone.
the bridge of his nose.
back to his jaw again because you seem particularly attached to kissing him there.
“missed you,” you mumble between soft kisses.
sae’s hands settle around your waist as he lets you pull him closer. “you should’ve gone to bed.”
“i wanted to wait for you.”
“you fell asleep.”
“emotionally i was awake.”
he stares at you for a second while you smile sleepily against his face.
“. . . that doesn’t make any sense.”
“it does to me.”
you only continue kissing him afterward, warm and sleepy and impossibly affectionate while your fingers slide through his hair.
“you’re very clingy when you’re tired,” he murmurs quietly.
“mhm.” you admit. then you look at him carefully again, your expression softening almost painfully. “and you’re very cute when you’re tired.”
“there it is again.”
you hum sleepily against his face, smiling a little when his fingers slide beneath the blanket pooled around your legs.
“can’t help it,” you mumble. “you come home looking all worn out and pretty.”
sae gives you a look at that. “pretty?”
“very.” your thumb brushes slowly beneath his eye. “especially right now.”
your expression softens even further the longer you look at him.
it always does.
like every time you see him after being apart for a while, you still need a second to process that he’s actually there.
it used to make him uncomfortable.
now he thinks he’d notice immediately if you ever stopped.
you suddenly narrow your eyes slightly, head tilting as you study him with sleepy seriousness. “did you eat properly today?”
“yes.”
“protein and everything?”
“. . . yes.”
“good.” a tiny approving nod before you kiss his cheek again. “good boy.”
sae actually blinks.
slowly.
you don’t even realise what you’ve said at first because you’re too busy smoothing his hair back from his forehead.
then your eyes widen slightly.
“oh my god,” you groan. “pretend i didn’t say that.”
he stares at you flatly. “that’s difficult.”
you bury your face into his shoulder immediately, muffling a horrified laugh. “i didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“. . . right.”
“that was supposed to stay in my head.”
“you have concerning thoughts.”
“you’re literally sitting here letting me kiss you forty times in a row.”
“that’s unrelated.”
you laugh into his shoulder while he feels your face heating against his neck.
the worst part was that he could tell from the immediate horror on your face that it had genuinely slipped out by accident.
you peek up at him eventually, smiling sheepishly.
“you secretly liked it.”
sae doesn’t answer straight away.
because the annoying thing is ─ you’re right again.
he likes your hands in his hair.
likes the way your face lights up when he walks through the door.
likes being loved by someone who never makes him question it.
your fingers drift lazily along the back of his neck while your eyelids begin drooping again.
“sorry,” you mumble suddenly. “i know you’re probably exhausted.”
“i’m fine.”
“still.” your gaze flickers over his face carefully. “you work so hard.”
something in his chest twists quietly at the softness in your voice.
you say things so gently sometimes it catches him completely off guard.
before he can respond, you lean in again and press three tiny kisses to his jaw in quick succession.
it was affectionate enough to make his chest ache with it.
“cute,” you whisper against his skin.
another kiss.
“cute.”
another.
“very cute.”
sae exhales quietly through his nose while you smile against him. “you’re obsessed with me.”
“why wouldn't i be?”
sae looks at you for a long second after that.
then he finally sits properly beside you, letting you curl against his chest beneath the blanket. the moment he settles, you tuck yourself into him with a sleepy sigh, arms wrapping loosely around his middle.
comfortable. instinctive.
like your body already knows exactly where it belongs.
“there,” you mumble contently. “better.”
his hand moves instinctively to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair carefully as you tug lightly on his sleeve.
“sorry again,” you mumble drowsily. “you want quiet after practice.”
sae’s hand moves to the back of your head automatically, smoothing your hair down.
“this is quiet.”
you smile against him at that.
a few minutes later your breathing evens out again, sleep finally pulling you under for real this time.
the room falls quiet for a while.
just the soft sound of your breathing and the occasional sleepy kiss you press against whatever part of him is closest.
but right before you drift off completely, sae hears one last sleepy mumble against his shoulder.
Satoru couldn't believe the utter nonsense that these brainless were spewing right in front of his face. Never in his 40 years, he heard something so fucking absurd. The board members that were arguing with each other for 30 minutes now collectively fell into silence after taking a peek at their ceo — who didn't have the best reputation going around.
" sir, we absolutely can not lose this deal if we do by any chance — our stock with plummet." It's like they were rubbing it on his face at this point.
A $42 Billion deal. If it fails, Gojo cooperation ’s stock will plummet, and him — the CEO could be ousted by his very own board now stare at him like a flockof birds who trying to either save him from eaten alive or his remaining flesh get eaten by them.
Looking up at his bourgeois high ceiling, Satoru took in a careful breath. The meeting room was suffocating, he was currently on the top of the world but he realised he was never really free to be begin with. And that realisation only left a bitter after taste in his mouth.
He tried to remember the exact words that were thrown at him yesterday — that awfully sounded like a indirect insult. That fucking old man, can he just die and hand over his company to his first born son, that was balding already. Isn't he like 100 or something?? Satoru mentally rolled his eyes while trying to guess that old frat's age.
It all happened in such a short time too, he couldn't even fucking eat his dinner after hearing that traditional bullshits. During a private dinner in Tokyo he attended recently, Chairman Hasegawa dropped an awfully polite looking time ticking bomb. He mentioned that Hasegawa Industries only did partners with leaders who value long-term legacy over short-term profit.
Then that old fuck dared to side eye him while practically tasting out the words that came out of his mouth after. The absolute audacity!! If only,
His secretary — the only one who he can trust and truly stood by his side.
The Chairman had implied that if the CEO — while looking dead in the fucking eye, he might add — who cannot commit to a life partner, he cannot be trusted with a multi-decade partner alliance.
It's hilarious how he thought that's all he would say but he underestimate how messy old traditionalists can be. That old man didn't forget to highlight the fact of his personal dating life and quoting the history of brief, public relationships with models, he had in passing years.
He had been living like a Saint for past 5 years, but he's reputation couldn't be repaired by merely taking a break from dating either.
Satoru's blood was boiling every fucking time, when he get flashbacks of that evening. But he could tolerate all that shit but,
To save the deal on the spot, he had to fucking lie. Satoru had to swear that he had actually been in a serious, quiet relationship for almost a year and is planning for a private wedding. The old man was delighted and immediately demanding that Satoru must bring his new fiancée to the final, week-long Merger Summit in Kyoto in three months to sign the contract.
He just fucking made his death bed so he might as well fucking lie down on it.
After dismissing that board meeting of utter bullshit. He finally could relax at the blissful silence now stretched throughout the space. Now, how the fuck is he gonna find a wife in just 3 months. It's not like he can advertise it on the television. If Hasegawa Chairman gets a whiff of his fat ass lie, he's done for.
He looked up from his devastated stance to your approaching figure. Satoru let out a pleased groan at the sight of sugary sweet caramel ice latte you slid down on the table — in front of him. Quickly taking a sip of the sugar monastery of his, he finally gained some energy to figure things out before he gets strangled by his own web of lies.
" So, i did a brief background check on Hasegawa Heavy Industries Chairman. He seemed like an extreme — "
" traditionalist?! "
" Yeah, he takes the old customs very seriously — he recently disowned his youngest son after finding out he had a child out of wedlock." Satoru rolled his eyes after hearing this, how typical of that old man. Disowning his own family left and right for mundane things.
" All he could be described as a person who puts his reputation and honour above everything else. He is a traditionalist through and through who believes a man can not rule a corporate empire if he can not maintain a stable, traditional household. He despises American corporate volatility and the new generations leadership."
You can't even believe the very information that you find out about the new business partner of the Gojo Corporation's. Reading it out loud felt utterly absurd even more than writing the whole thing down on your tablet.
" What is this, 1970s or something!! It's 2026, for God's sake." You plopped down unceremoniously in the comfy chair that was sat right to the CEO's gigantic one. Satoru looked at you with a soft fondness that exclusively reserved for you, only. After all these years of working under him — you gradually came out of your shell and started to be very comfortable around him. Kind of comfortable where you stick your tongue out to him — the CEO who is decades older than mind you, and took a long slip from his drink.
" Yuck!! It's too sweet, you gonna get diabetes very soon and die. Just remember to have my name on your will, okay?? I want your beach house in bali." you continued to yap his ear off while still slipping the very drink you called yuck, 5 seconds ago.
" yes, Your Highness. How dare I forget about your important request." Satoru dramatically drawled out his words while taking the tablet from your hands and looking the information by himself.
" um sire?? " nope, he didn't like that disgusting sweet fake ass professional voice of yours at all. The very voice that left his all business partners very satisfied by feeding their ridiculous egos just right. " what is it? Spill it out. And no,you absolutely cannot take any vacations yet." Satoru held his hand out in front of your face without even looking up from the tablet he was scrolling on.
" it's not that. Ugh, I want to resign." he must be having hallucinations after all this stress being put upon his shoulders. " repeat that again. I might have misheard something." He still wouldn't look up from that damn tablet. Grinding your teeth nervously, you repeat what you just said earlier and stood up because you were sweating buckets, even under the air conditioner that blasted to the fullest.
Satoru finally looked up and landed his gaze directly at you, the means one thing. That man is pissed off beyond limits. " You, see my mother is pestering me for sometimes now — saying I should settle down and get married and stuff. I was avoiding her as much as possible, but she threatened me that if I didn't meet this guy she hand pick for me, she would come here and whoope my ass and yours too apparently because I always used the same excuse saying, you don't gimme any leaves. Well, it's not like that's a complete lie. You don't gimme any vacations, though."
You kept rambling like a broken record while he tried to catch up to your talking speed and understand everything that came out of your mouth at 2× speed. " um, so I really don't have any choice you see." you peeked at him under your lashes slowly while passing the ball to him.
" if you don't go to meet this potential partner of yours, your mother will come here and whoope your ass and mine too?!"
" yeah. I will hand out the resignation letter by tomorrow evening." You nodded at yourself while Satoru awfully looked like he's gonna have a stroke at any moment now.
" I'll double your salary. Stay."
" I fear my mother too much to cave in for money."
" five times more than the salary I pay for you now."
" Have you finally gone insane with all the sugar you inhale down to your throat more than the h2o you consume."
" seven times."
" no."
" eleven times."
" HR will flip out and probably sue both of us." you sighed like you were dealing with a 5 year old child who throwing a tantrum over to stop his favourite nanny from leaving. Then Satoru slammed his poor tablet on to the glass table. You flinched away from the sudden display of aggression. It's not the first time, you saw him crash the fuck out but this was the first time he crashed out over you. Well, everything has a first time so nothing you couldn't handle.
" I'll dismiss the HR, those fuckers weren't doing anything anyway, the only thing that they were good at is messing things up." Satoru was not angry. He was not that kind of person. He doesn't get angry.
He get enraged instead.
He wanted nothing but to fucking break things, sometimes even burn this very building to the ground.
" 15 times more - "
" I thought we were over this conversation and for the record, I already get paid more than an average secretary in this country ever get paid for. Probably even more than a fucking neurologist." You threw your hands dramatically to likely to make a point. You were literally pointing out the obvious.
" well, you're not just an average secretary. Your salary is more than justified and if someone disagree, I'll see them in court. " Satoru was daring you to point out the people who called you an average employee. He's just as dramatic as always. You mentally rolled your eyes at his fuming figure, walking around the room like he's pants were on fire.
" the bali beach house. I'll turn it to your name by tomorrow morning. How's that? Is it enough to convince you to stay with me." you couldn't help but gape like a fucking fish at him, utterly speechless by his bizarre bribes that — you were now at a lose of thinking what to say back to them. " sure, I love that beach house, but you know I was just joking around, right? When i ask you to pass its keys to me."
" well, I'm clearly not joking right now." Satoru gestured at himself as to prove a point that he was indeed very serious. " anything you said over the 10 minutes, does not solve my problem at home." You were not happy with resigning either, you loved working here. With him. But you cannot stress your old mother any longer. You've been such a neglectful daughter to her for the last 5 years now. It's only fair for her to blow up on you. But she sure did guilt tripping you to quitting your job here. Satoru took in your distress self, he hadn't seen such a withered expression on your face. It didn't suit your sunny personality at all.
He's just blind. You were the biggest grump hanging around.
" then marry me."
" excuse me? "
" your mother wants to see you get married, yes? Then why not marry me rather than whatever pest you're supposed to meet?? you know that I've to get married in three months too, so why not killing two birds with one stone??"
" You don't even know him. Stop insulting innocent people." Satoru clicked his tongue in annoyance after getting scolded by you. He didn't like displeasing you. It's just put him off for some reason. " it's just my instinct. I don't have a good feeling about him." He grumbled, sulking while kicking imaginary dirt on the plush carpeted floor.
He's such a child, sometimes.
" where do you think you're going right now?" Satoru raised his eyebrows slightly, looking at you already holding the door handle. " get your stubborn ass back here." You immediately let go of the door handle after hearing his stern voice that was barely used towards you. Pouting slightly you made your way back to his side and look at the chair he was pointing out to you to sit down, before even you could sit down properly he grabbed the arm rest of the chair with both of his hands and dragged your poor little self awfully close to him. It all happened so fast that you just stared at him dumbfounded.
Satoru leaned down so fucking close to your eye level — you felt his warm breath tickling your eye lashes. Deliberately avoiding his intense eyes that were fishing out your gaze ruthlessly, you chose to glare at the nothing but the empty space. " don't ever avoid my eyes, now look at me — please." at least he had the decency to say please, and your name slipped from his devastatingly handsome, pretty pink lips oh so quietly. The intensity of the moment made your face burn with embarrassment.
You gathered your wits to finally look at right into his eyes, they were so blue that you swear they sparkled like the sunlight hits the ocean waves. Fighting the very urge to close your eyes tightly, you just brased yourself to whatever gonna happen inside this room.
" good girl."
" that was very creepy."
" I see you blushing, miss secretary."
" I'm just embarrassed by this whole y/n ceo thingie that's going on right now."
" the y/n, what?"
" never mind, not that your old ass might now what's going on with my generation."
Satoru let out a heavy sigh after making out your murmurings, just barely one might add — he doesn't even know who's the sane person here. It's obviously not him and neither his little secretary either. God bless this company.
" I'm not that old, you know? I'm only 40 years old."
" you've been saying that for a while now." You fired right up at him, seeing your pouting self glaring at the floor, he bite back a chuckle. " want me to show you my birth certificate." Satoru kneeled down in front of you and tried to take a good look at your face that was facing the floor.
" you've one? I thought you were so old that birth certificates didn't exist in the era you were born." He finally got a glimpse of your face that was hidden by your hair that was covering half of your face. You were smiling, teasing at him. Pushing his buttons left and right.
" what do you even take me for? A caveman from ice age? "
" something little close to that."
" You little demon." Satoru gasped at the utter audacity of you laughing right at his face. Your laugh was so contagious that he couldn't help but let out a chuckle of his own. Here he is, laughing at his own misery.
" so, yes or no."
" You can't be serious!! YOU'RE LIKE 100 YEARS OLD !! " you were enjoying this situation, way more than you liked to admit while Satoru gasped loudly and clutched his imaginary pearls ever so dramatically. " I'M NOT. I'm telling you, ugh, I'm only 42 this year."
" well, that's make it even more worse. I'm just half of your age!!! This is simply unacceptable."
" says who? Tell them to meet me in the court, professionally."
" You just can't fucking throw lawsuits like you're feeding the street pigeons."
" I've a big ass law committee of my own so why not taking a use of it rather that let those fuckers lazing all day around."
" ykw?? You're so infuriating!! " you silently screamed while throwing your hands so angrily. You're minutes away from ripping away your CEO'S beautiful white hair locks. " you only figuring it out now?? After all those years working for me." Satoru had that absolutely infuriating, agitating smug look on his face, you wanted to scratch his face with your prettily maintained manicure nails. And Satoru would probably like that, which makes it even worse.
" that's not something you could be fucking proud of!! " you hissed right onto his annoyingly handsome face.
" no, it's something you should be scared of." Still grinning like the fucking Grinch that stole the Christmas cheer by beating shit out of the Santa's fat ass, Satoru basked in the victory of winning the argument.
He didn't btw. He's just delusional.
" have you lost your mind??! whatever, I'm not even surprised that your old age is finally catching up to you to fry your bird brain. I'm done with this stupid argument. I'm grabbing my stuff and going home." your voice held finality and tried to escape this forced proximity that being cooking up between you two. But Satoru just kneeled there at your feet while bodily blocking your way up. " move, you fat fuck." you wanna do nothing but kick his balls and annihilate his unborn children.
" not until you accept my proposal. Marry me, please."
" what are you, 4?? stop acting like a child. And adding please to end of every sentence like sprinkles of sugar doesn't get you anywhere."
" enough. we're going on a date. Take a half day and go freshen up, I'll pick you up at 6pm."
" no I'm not gonna."
" yes, You are."
" no. I'm not."
" then I guess I would've to throw your pretty ass on to my shoulders and kidnap you from your apartment." the absolute audacity of this man. he really doesn't give a fuck about your opinion in this matter.
" I'm gonna sue you for threatening me like this." you pointed your finger at him while with a look of betrayal painting on your face. The whole office is mad. There was a pin drop silence as the giant clock in the wall only did occasional sound of ticking. Satoru slowly stood up from the floor he was still kneeling and stare down at you. The thing here is you were both so stubborn as fuck. So you didn't back down either, staring up and him while your chin held high.
" I would like to see you try, sweetheart." that fucking smug fucking piece of shit.
" this is unacceptable. ABUSING POWER and authority." your manicure nails were itching to scratch whatever skin you could reach at the moment. Of course Satoru knew this nasty habit of yours. He remembered this one time all too clearly — to this day like it happened only yesterday. You scratching the face of a male employee who didn't stop flirting and touching you without the consent at a company dinner.
He had to fucking physically remove your body and hands from the man who was clearly bleeding down to his face with scratching marks marking his face like he just got attacked by a pissed of cat. Hauling your stubborn ass that was still trying to break free from his arms to get back to your unfinished business before, as if you didn't almost end the poor man's appearance to life.
Satoru, of course, was very pleased by your feisty attitude. He immediately fired the man and made sure he absolutely would not get another job at any company in the country ever again.
While Satoru was walking down the memory lane, you stood there silently contemplating the consciousness of damaging your infuriatingly handsome CEO'S billion dollar worthy face. Yeah, it was a lot actually. You would've to go to jail for at least 3 years for that. So you calmed down your horses. Barely being the keyword was not very reassuring.
" where the fuck are you going." Satoru was brought back to earth by the ominous screeching sound of the double doors to his meeting room being opening. You glared at him so hard that if looks could kill, he would be dropped dead by 3rd degree burning.
" to die. Possibly lights away from your old ass." you seethe like an angry cat that hadn't been fed for second time since the morning.
The door was slammed shut so hard like that the material had personally offended you. The very floor started to shake a little because of the impact of shutting the door so roughly.
" see, she has the soon to be madame gojo potential in her." Satoru mumbled to himself while smothering out his eyebrows that were tensed after all those banter happened between the two of you.
He's gonna get wrinkles sooner or later because of you. And his sudden decision of wife you up was only sealing the deal.
He's never the one to appear at right on time but for you — he could make anything possible when it's come to you.
Satoru cleared his throat while trying to fix his hair — be presentable for you, of course. He looked nervous.
Are you kidding?
Satoru Gojo, the solace heir to the multi dollar corporation, impossible.
He really wasn't that nervous.
He's so fucking sacred that he will fuck up everything, he planned at a very short time after proposing to you in his very meeting room so unceremoniously.
Satoru prayed for whatever God that watched over him. Please don't get me killed or scratched by the little demon that lived right behind that very door, he's standing in front of.
Oh, Brother, this man is hopeless.
And — kind of creepy.
He pressed his ears onto the door, and check if the atmosphere was right or not. Like he didn't want to get his head smashed by a fucking flower vase or whatever you would grab to throw at his way. But then he heard this —
agitating, grating voice.
Your voice came out muffled through the door or he's just deaf cause of his old age. Obviously,
" 𝒀𝑲𝑾 𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑨𝑰𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑴𝑬𝑬𝑬??!
𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑻𝑻 ~
𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬, 𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑶 𝑹𝑼𝑫𝑬!!!
—𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑩𝑯𝑶𝑰𝑰𝑰𝑰
𝑫𝑶𝑬𝑺 𝑰𝑻 𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑲 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑰 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑬???
~𝑰 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫𝑵'𝑻 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑺𝑺𝑺!!!! "
What the fuck is going on — Satoru couldn't help but frown, who the fuck are you talking with like that. Is this one of your many questionable copying mechanisms. Did someone really say that you were so rude? Is it another employee. Why didn't you tell him about this. He took a mental note to look into this matter.
But that was not the problem. Why were you fucking singing that?? Have you finally gone insane. Maybe she was just on crack as always. Sighing loudly, he finally strengthen out his shoulders and knocked on your door, but didn't forget to look around if someone saw him pressing his ears to your door like a fucking creep.
At least he is self-aware. Talk about some progress.
Satoru knocked on the door impatiently after not hearing an answer for 3 minutes, maximum.
" coming!! " you opened the door with hoping to see your fellow Indian restaurant delivery gurlie down the street, but your million dollar smile completely disappeared after seeing your one and only boss and you whipped your head around to look at the clock.
It was 6:12 pm, he wasn't kidding, then.
" took your sweet time, isn't it? Well, well, well, this is not the welcome I prepared for, but I'm not complaining." you quickly looked down at yourself after realising what you were wearing. You were still on your fluffy pink towel. Before even you could slam your door to that one annoying smug piece of shit who was hoarding the entire space of your little apartment entrance while grinning like a perverted fox — grabbed the door you were trying close. But you were no match for his inhuman strength.
That old man didn't have the bulging biceps for nothing. " go away, you Satan." you gritted your teeth until they start to clink sightly. Even if you use your all strength in all your fucking might, you still could not push him away or close the door. Unfortunately, after hissing at him ever so dramatically, you let go of the act of pushing your door.
You were scared that your towel would fall off because the knot that was holding your towel together barely survived with lots of hopes and prayers.
Meanwhile, Satoru fell into the entrance of your apartment, face first. When you suddenly let go of the door, he couldn't fucking control his body from falling down. Serves him right, you thought while standing there with a look of utter delight on your face.
" get up, you're embarrassing yourself." Satoru wanted to dig a hole in this very moment in your apartment, and bury himself alive.
Why does he always embarrass himself when he's around you.
" have some mercy on me, I beg you."
" go and beg somewhere else. Why are you even here." You stomped your feet while whining loudly, complaining that he ruined your peaceful afternoon by showing his annoyingly handsome face.
The last five words were not necessary. You didn't say that, btw. He's just delusional.
" just get out of my fucking apartment. Go do something, man." Satoru's poor face was nudged multiple times by your bare feet. At least your feet were cute.
He's such a weirdo.
Satoru finally came out of his miserable mental state and picked up his worn-out body back. Looking at your figure disappearing to a room, it must be your room. He assumed quietly and welcomed himself in. He took your retreating self as the invitation to come into your apartment.
He's so fucking pathetic.
" put on something nice. We still have time." Satoru called you out while sitting on a cute pink sofa. He noted that your favourite colour might be pink by just taking a look around the tiny apartment. It was decorated rather adorably despite your nasty little attitude. Not that he finds it unattractive, he's very into it. Thank you very much.
" I'm not.going.anywhere." you sheeted out your words one by one like you're making a statement from the government itself. " yes, you are. Do you want me dress you up too?" Satoru made himself comfortable as firing right back at you with a teasing edge in his voice.
" I would like to see you try, over my fucking dead body." He sat right up after hearing you growling like a maniac that escaped from the prison after killing multiple police officers. That's oddly specific.
You paused what you were gonna do after hearing a knock on your door. A giggle escaped your lips while you raced to open the door while, Satoru had this utter dumbfounded look on his face. He also went after you because why did you look so fucking happy — a strange feeling crawled into his heart after seeing you so damn elated.
He can't be serious right. HE CAN'T FUCKING BE JEALOUS OVER YOU SMILING EAR TO EAR FOR SOMEONE WHO IS NOT HIM.
No. No. No.
That's not possible. Satoru liked you as his secretary. Nothing more, Nothing less.
Dude, why are we lying again.
Satoru cursed silently while taking off his blazer after seeing you still in this flimsy towel that barely covered anything.
It was not that short. He's just being dramatic.
" what?? what are you doing??" You flinched sightly after Satoru's blazer came around you — engulfing your figure down to your mid-thigh. " covering your ass, who in the world goes like this to open the door. Do you want to give everyone a free show or something." His voice had a slight annoyance to cover up how jealous he was. Satoru felt like this view was reserved only for him to enjoy.
" it's not even that short."
" that's obviously not what I was implying." Seeing your pouty face, Satoru lowered his voice into something soft and gentle. And carefully pulled your hand from the door knob you were holding into his much larger ones and stepped right in front of you while hovering over the entrance. He slowly opened the door and came face to face with a female delivery driver.
Now, he understands why you were so comfortable with your inappropriate look. It was not a big deal, he's just so old for this generation.
The delivery girl looked taken back after seeing an absolutely hunk of a man — who's very fucking attractive that was standing in your doorway, she only then saw your hands that were waving left and right like a child to came across a ice cream van. " I'm sorry, I was late. There's lots of deliveries going around today. I did my best to get yours quickly as I can." Satoru was pushed aside by you while he stumbled back a little. He was surprised by your strength. You were just three apples tall but your mouth and your fighting strength always made up to your short height this was amusing him, greatly.
" it's okay. I was not that hungry anyway, and thank you for your hard work." You thanked politely while saying a white lie without batting an eye. You know how harsh delivery jobs could be. You didn't want to stress this poor girl any further.
Satoru quickly took out his wallet to pay for your food and to his surprise you keep making a grabby hand to him like you were planning for this from the very beginning. Why is he even surprised. Before even he could ask how much it is, you just snatched his poor wallet rather rudely to your hands and paid ever so effortlessly. Like his money is your money.
Uh, soon to be your money, perhaps.
You took the many take outs bags and passed them to Satoru, not even looking back at him. Great, he's now officially your servant too. Well, he cannot fucking complain because he clearly asked for this even begged, embarrassing he knows— and he's right where we wants be.
" keep it." When she tried to give you the change, you waved your hand off with a smile. It's a 100$ bill. Not that you cared. It's not your money anyway. She left, thanking you with a big smile.
" close the door." Satoru again closed the door with his foot like an obedient puppy. He couldn't move his arms that were full of take out boxes. Still holding his wallet, you padded onto the floor with bare feet — happily humming a song.
" what am I?? Your dog??"
" if the collar fits." You said in a sing song voice that had him losing his fucking mind. He already lost his face, his dignity and what else there be lost anyway.
Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts.
No grey hair or wrinkles. Not yet.
Don't let her agitate you.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
" bring those here. Hurryyyyyyy!! I'm so hungry." Your whining shattered his silent meditation in one go, completely. Satoru absolutely gave up the idea of having some peace in his life.
Satoru finally got you out of the apartment after begging, promising whatever luxury he could ever offer, but you only perked your ears when you heard about getting ice-cream.
He watched you gobbling down the food faster than any normal human being possibly could. It's like you were inhaling the food instead of eating it. Satoru just couldn't get you dressed up any faster, though — not until you finish your ongoing kdrama episodes that were available on Netflix.
Of course, you made him pay for your monthly subscription with his black card. You picked the most expensive one, too.
You were giggling so hard while watching this particular drama. He read the title, saying, " 𝑴𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒔." Satoru didn't look at the 42-inch television that hanged upon the wall in front of him, watching your facial expressions were so much more interesting and entertaining than the show that was playing on the screen. This didn't go unnoticed by you either. You just pretended to act like he didn't keep watching you so awfully close, almost like a stalker.
Then you finally felt some human emotion that called 'pity ' towards the man who splayed on your couch like an overgrown dog with a look of utter devastation.
You're lying. You just left with him because he said he would buy you ice-cream. Your fat ass just cannot resist any kind of food that was given to you for free. Who didn't like free food anyway.
That's how you end up with your annoying boss ten in the fucking night outside of your town. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire with occasional squeeze his hand did to your ones that were engulfed by his thick fingers. His hands were so warm and reassuring. Satoru was navigating you through the sea of heavy crowd that were passing around the two of you. All you could see was his broad back rippling with delicious amounts of back muscles and his intimidating towering height, Satoru towered over every person that he brushed passed by — you couldn't help but admire your boss's amazing, mouth-watering physique. It's not like it's illegal.
But it felt illegal. You wondered how exactly tall he is, like 6'3 or 6'5?? Something close to that, maybe.
The night market was bustling so lively with thousands of local vendors and foreign tourists. The narrow walkways are illuminated by glowing red paper lanterns, and flashing neon signs were so bright that it was almost blinding. The air is thick with the savoury aroma of grilling meats, and sizzling sauces.
You grabbed Satoru's shirt to get his attention. Satoru quickly came to a halt to see if something had happened to you. The sounds around you were a chaotic mix of vendors calling out in energetic greetings , the clinking of beer glasses, the hiss of hot griddles, and live singers having a blast on the side of the street.
Satoru covered your head and shoulders with his now discard blazer, and the other hand came hold your waist protectively. You pulled him away from the crowd to a stall that caught your eyes. That's why you stopped him in the first place. Satoru, let your hands pull him with you. The small stall had no customers, but it was packed with fish-shaped taiyaki cakes filled with custard, soft mochi, and glossy syrup-dipped candy fruits.
" buy me mochi." you pressed your cheek into one of his biceps that was facing to your side and was demanding him to buy you mochi like a spoil little brat.
Well, who made that system up.
Of course, him.
Satoru only let out a pleased chuckle after hearing your demanding voice, it was very adorable of you. " which flavours do you want them, darling." He questioned quietly while rubbing absent mind circles on your waist ever so softly. The touch had your brain melting. " uh, I want mango and vanilla icing filling one." hiding your face further into his biceps, you mumbled slowly to him.
" why only one?? choose some more." Satoru said while moving his hands to caress your cheek. His touch was very gentle and tender in a way that made you sleepy all of a sudden. Snuggling into his soft, warm hand — you tiredly mumbled, saying you want the chocolate and strawberry flavours too. Satoru bites back the urge to devour your chubby cheeks right then and there, you was suddenly being so cute and docile in his arms had him losing his fucking mind.
He was not mentally prepared to see you acting so cutesy around him — and it's indeed not good for his health. His heart felt like it was about to fall off from how loud it was beating.
Alerting the vendor to which flavours he wanted, his arm instinctively came to hold you waist again. He just couldn't get enough of touching you, now. Your soft skin beneath his hard ones felt so fucking amazing. It was like a newfound addiction on his part.
" feeling sleepy, darling." after feeling you trying to snuggle even more into his side, Satoru softly questioned, holding you tightly to his body. " a little hm, and my feet hurt too." you complained to him quietly after burying your face completely into his biceps. Then, sneak a glance at him under your lashes. " why didn't you tell me earlier." Satoru said in his usual dramatically worried tone, fussing over you — trying to take a good look at your feet. It was indeed irritated with angry red marks. " we're getting new shoes." paying the vendor hastily while taking the bags that was filled with sweet mochi — he suddenly picked you up with one hand ike you weigh nothing.
" whaat!! put me down!! you brute." you whisper yelled, trying to loop your hands around his neck. You didn't want to fall off and crack your neck. Thank you very much. Now, you can see almost everything in the night market without straining any joints in your neck. It's like you were at the top of the world.
" you're absolutely not walking with these shoes, not here or anywhere else either. I'm gonna throw these away. What brand is even this. Such poor quality. I should sue them. What if you get irritations after this huh???"
" I'm not throwing these away, and no, we're not gonna sue anyone over a pair of shoes."
" to the record, these shoes hurt your feet, and it's a huge crime itself, and I'm definitely gonna burn these."
" please, you're so dramatic."
" I'll show you how dramatic, I could be." You were about to roll your eyes at his ridiculously dramatic take even on slightest inconveniences. Typical rich people. There was a bit pause in the retort that were right at the end of your tongue but the you saw something — It is a cozy, open-air boutique packed from floor to ceiling with the softest plush footwear imaginable, you never one to walk pass something so cute.
Slippers are stacked on tiered wooden shelves hung from the canvas ceiling on a tiny clothesline. It looks like a waterfall of pastel pinks, mint greens, and warm cream colours. You looked down at Satoru, who had already made his way towards the tiny little boutique before even you could grab his hair and lead him to the store like the ratatouille.
" I got to put me first." Satoru rolled his eyes after letting you climb down on him very carefully. You looked crazed after seeing cute fluffy slippers and shoes everywhere around you. It was heaven.Every pair resembled an adorable design. Plush bunny ears that bounce when they moved, embroidered with sleepy eyes, 3D bear snouts, and slippers shaped like chubby, smiling frogs, or almost every character in Disney world. But then, a very specific one caught your eye.
It's a plush white cat with blue eyes that had extremely cute floppy ears, with an infuriating smirk that you see every day — and the sunglasses hanging off from its eyes were cherry on top combination. " that one awfully looks a lot like you." Satoru followed your line of sight curiously. You pulled his hand to drag him closer to your target.
" why are you waddling like a baby duckling."
" shut up!! Not everyone fell from a fucking coconut tree like you."
" what the hell even that supposed to mean."
You ignored his offended tone and tried to stand up on your toes to grab the pair of slippers that caught your eyes. " y-you!! just warn me before lifting me up out of nowhere, you idiot." slapping his hands that holding you in the air. " Wait, they have your size ones too!!!"
" stop wiggling." Satoru had to pull you back to his chest before you let yourself fall down face first. " it's hilarious. Oh my god!! why are they looks so similar to you. Wait this has to be a family heirloom." holding the slippers one by one to each side of his face — you exclaimed quietly while laughing softly.
Satoru's heart started thudding so hard like it's trying to escape from his throat.
His heart has to go, bro. It's working overtime these days.
He just physically couldn't stop himself from looking at you. It's like his eyes were chasing even a micro expression you make. He can't miss anything that happens at this very moment. Satoru wanted to engrave your smile to his mind.
"Look at these," you said, laughing — sliding your hands inside the slippers and holding them like puppets. You slowly made the floppy ears attached on them nod at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners.
He didn't fucking care to look at the slippers.
He just couldn't.
For the last hour, the market had been a blur of loud vendors, heavy smoke, and flashing neon lights, — but standing under the warm, twinkling fairy lights of the stall, everything else went quiet. Whenever you let out a genuine laugh, and look at him with your eyes crinkled with mirth — entirely unguarded.
It completely disarmed him, utterly at your mercy.
The ambient pink and gold light from the display caught the edge of your cheekbones, but it was the sheer glow of your expression that held him on chock hold. He found himself tracking the slight dimple near your cheek, the way your eyes mirrored the tiny string of lights, and the pure happiness you held in your very eyes.
"You're not even looking," you teased, voice dropping into something softer, playful edge as you took a note of his silence. Satoru swallowed hard and looked away from you for a second to take his shit together. The bustling noise of the night market suddenly rushed back into his ears, though his focus didn't waver from you at all. He forced out a small, helpless smile of his own, unable to deny how deeply that single smile had just anchored him to you.
He realised that he's in deep shit.
Screwed for life.
Despite having a dozen places he was supposed to be, a hundred things constantly weighing on his mind.But looking at you right now, illuminated by the cheap, twinkling fairy lights of a ridiculous slipper stall, the noise of the world simply disappeared.
He didn't want to be anywhere else in the world other than right here.
With you.
Choosing ridiculous fluffy slippers in a cramped boutique, watching you laugh freely without a care in this restless world.
Even if the entire city froze around them, he wouldn't mind at all. Satoru felt like he could die in this moment. He would die as a happy man, right here without any regrets.
"I am looking," Satoru said softly after breaking the blissful silence that was stretching between you and him. His voice was steady but held a weight that made your hands pause inside the plush slippers that you were holding. "I'm looking right at you."
" ugh, that's so cheeky."
" I see you blushing, miss secretary."
" shut up."
" yes, madam."
Satoru leapt into action before even you could bend over to remove your shoes. He kneeled down in front of you and softly grabbed your feet while you held sat on his shoulders. " getting comfortable, I see." He said, urging you to lift your feet up. " Hmm, very comfortable. A 10/10 seat. I should give you 5 star reviewing for this."
" well, I've a seat even better than this-"
" save your breath and stop being delusional."
" nah, we will get there. Naturally."
" in your dreams."
" yeah. I'll dream about it. Thank you very much for reminding me."
" stop biting your future husband. this is considered domestic abuse." Satoru exclaimed while holding his arm after you bite his biceps rather violently. When he took a look at the damage — your whole teeth had left its imprint on his bicep. The angry red mark felt so contrast against milky white skin.
" what the fuck are you?? A fucking feral cat in streets?? Biting and scratching people left and right??!!" Hah what is this behaviour!! "
" You were asking for it, you were dying for it!! "
Satoru had to cover his face for a second to get the strength to deal with your nasty tempter and attitude.
Well, he asked for this, btw. Even begged.
Suffering from success, I guess.
While Satoru kept contemplating his life decisions, you look your sweet time trying the slippers that you chose. " sooooo, how do I look??" Satoru eventually broke out from his reverie and stood up from the floor. " Hmm, it's hard to decide. give me a little spin."
You did just as he said — giving him a cute little show, the white, flowy fabric of her garment rippled around your ankles like water, catching the gentle breeze drifting through the market alley. The delicate blue straps of your dress, tied into neat bows at your shoulders, shifted with your movements. The contrast was striking—the elegant, airy white of your dress making the ridiculously bulky, fluffy slippers look even more endearing.
You looked up at him, biting your lower lip to suppress another laugh as you wobbled slightly in place after twirling. "Are they too much? Be honest." Satoru looked from the blue bows on your shoulders down to the giant plush slippers on your delicate feet, his heart hammering against his ribs. Just looking at you standing there in your flowy white dress, framed by a wall of pastel fluff slippers, you looked entirely breathtaking — and Satoru had never been more certain that this was exactly where he belonged.
" no. they look very cute on you — almost like you didn't just bite me with your teeth."
" then they can do a good job."
" yeah. hiding that fact you bite and scratch people in daily occurrence??"
" yup. you get my point, old man." sticking your tongue out to taunt the poor man further, you continued what you were doing by standing in front of a giant ceiling to floor size mirror — checking out the cute slippers that you wearing.
" I'm not old."
" denial is a river in egypt, and your wifey is right." The words slipped out of your mouth with effortless, teasing confidence—until the reality of what you had just said caught up to you in a speed of light.
Wifey.
That one word hung in the air between you two. Your breath caught in your throat. Completely frozen, your foot still slightly raised in front of the mirror, as the playful smirk died on your face while you didn't dare to look behind.
Satoru didn't dare to move. He didn't even fucking blinked. The teasing warmth in his expression instantly melted into something intense, possessive, and fiercely obsessive. That one word you uttered so easily had sent a electric jolt straight through him, pinning him to the spot.
Meanwhile, you realize that after you screwed up a big time after accidentally spoken your hidden feelings aloud so easily, a fiery crimson blush rushed up your neck, instantly staining the cheeks and tips of your ears. Desperate to swallow the words right back in, you pulled her lower lip between your teeth, biting down hard on it as if you could physically trap the rest of your thoughts inside.
You finally turned and looked up at him through your lashes, lip still caught firmly under your teeth, eyes wide with a mix of panic and breathless vulnerability. Caught red-handed.
The silence between you and him stretched — suffocating you two with an undeniable tension, thick and electric, completely drowning out the entire roaring city around you.
Satoru stared intensely at you biting your poor lips, his gaze dropping to the blue bows on her shoulders that were swaying sightly, then back to your flushed face.A quiet, low chuckle vibrated in his chest—not a teasing laugh, but one of pure, overwhelmed disbelief at his own luck.
Did he just fucking get his dream girl?
After all this time, having you right under his nose. How could he not realise sooner that he undeniably, utterly, irresistibly in love —
With you.
After all this time.
Hell yeah.
Always.
Satoru took a single, deliberate step closer into your space, his shadow completely eclipsing the pastel light of the stall. "Is that so?" he murmured, voice dropping an octave, entirely hypothesise her with his voice. " my wifey, huh?"
" woah, woah hold your horses."
" can't do that now they escaped the second you said the word wifey."
" I'm gonna get a restraining order on you."
" as if that could stop me. you're all mine now."
You did such a poor job of hiding how nervous you're at this moment — pretending to act as if you are not trying to physically hold back your racing pulse.
You looked so small underneath the glowing fairy lights, caught between your own careless words and the intense, unyielding weight of Satoru's gaze that pinned down at you.
He didn't give you a chance to backtrack or room to laugh it off or pretend it was just a silly joke — he knows you more than anyone so there's no way escaping without any consciousness.Satoru took one more slow, deliberate step forward, completely erasing the last bit of distance between you and him.
The crisp white fabric of your garment brushed against his clothes, and the subtle scent of your flowery soft perfume mixed with the warm air of the stall. He reached out, his long fingers gently holding the smooth skin of your jawline. Satoru let his thumb wander just below your lower lip that was bitten so harshly by you, a soft but firm pressure that coaxed you to finally stop biting it.
Satoru leaned down slightly, his cerulean blue eyes locked onto yours, it's almost looked teasing, but the fiercely possessive edge into it told you otherwise. The roaring night market, the flashing neon lights, the passing crowds—none of it existed anymore.
"You said it, not me," he whispered, a breathless little smile tugging at the corner of Satoru's lips. He looked so ethereal, stealing your breath away for a second. "Which means you're all mine now. don't make me repeat that again." your poor heart thudding violently against your ribs, the blue bows on your shoulders kept trembling slightly as you took a sharp, shallow breath to calm your racing heart.
His hand drifted from your jaw, fingers sliding lower to gently wrap around your wrist, his grip warm, solid, and entirely inescapable. It was certainty a simple touch, but that made her knees feel weak, especially while balancing in those ridiculous, oversized plush slippers."There’s no escape, not after tonight." Satoru murmured against the quiet space between your lips, his voice steady, low, and laced with absolute finality. "You're stuck with me."
" have you ever murdered someone?"
" hm, no not yet."
" the fuck you mean by not yet?? were you planing to??"
" no, but I've a very strong feeling that you'll make me wanna murder people in the future."
Before even you could bite back a response — Then, the soft canvas flap behind them rustled."Excuse me! cute couple!" the voice was bright, booming, and completely unaware of the brewing tention between the two of you. But to you, this loud vendor is a heaven sent angel who saved you from the blue-eyed apex predator that was about to swallow you whole.
The elderly vendor with a pristine white apron and a friendly, wrinkled face popped out from behind a tower of pastel fleece, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. He looks genuinely elated after seeing the outfit that Satoru was wearing. Any normal human could just guess how expensive that suit. Satoru's regal stance only added the fuel to the fire.
"You both look so wonderful together! Are you going to buy both sizes of the cat slippers? I see this miss already found the larger size for the handsome boyfriend right here!"
You immediately face palmed after hearing that. You knew the exact words that were about to slip from that infuriating white-haired menace's tongue.
" future husband." Satoru's shameless voice chirped rather loudly, and the vendor awkwardly kept smiling. Well, Satoru's smile can be so creepy sometimes. He looks like kind of an overly smiling serial killer appeared in movies.
" t-that's nice. haha, young love. Indeed." The vendor side eye Satoru so hard after saying the young part. It was suspicious. But Satoru just let it slide because he's too happy to be worried about something so trivial.
He's lying. He's so fucking offended.
Probably gonna bulldozer the whole stall by the morning.
You covered your face in utter humiliation, face turning a shade of crimson that rivalled the glowing red lanterns down the street. You instantly ripped your wrist from his grip, burying your face into hands as the sheer embarrassment of getting caught in such an awkward situation with a total stranger. The poor vendor probably thinks they both nuts.
He blinked when you suddenly snatched your hand back from his grip — as he slowly turned his head to look at the beaming shopkeeper.
For a split second, a flash of mild irritation crossed his features at the prior interruption." just pay him already. I wanna go home."
After hearing your stern voice. Satoru looked down at you —hiding your burning face, you were trembling with embarrassed laughter, shoulders twitching—his irritation completely disappeared.A genuine, breathless laugh escaped from his lips.
Satoru reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet without a single hesitation. He looked the enthusiastic vendor right in the eye, a proud, undeniable smirk settling onto his face.
"Yes," he said, his voice ringing out clearly over the market noise as he gestured to the giant plush paws on her feet, and then to the larger pair that already was in the old man's hands. "We’ll take both. Anything for my future wifey." Looking away from him and the vendor, you pretend not to hear anything and let out a muffled, defeated groan, but you couldn't stop the hopelessly happy smile from spreading across your face.
You're so fucked.
You like this fucking shameless old man.
" let's go, wifey."
He's so insufferable.
" don't call me that."
" nope. you started it. and you can't back out now."
So fucking annoying.
But you liked him anyway. " why not get married tomorrow morning anyway."
" shut the fuck up."
" yes, wifey."
" STOP CALLING ME THAT ALREADY."
" I see you blushing, my darling wifey."
Your face was still burning a furious, hot pink, and you could feel his smug, victorious gaze heavy on the side of your face without even looking.
"I'm leaving," you muttered, voice a mix of a squeak and a huff.Without waiting for him, you turned on your heel and stormed away from the stall — not bothering to change out of your slippers. The delicate blue bows on your shoulders bounced with every angry, embarrassed step you took while marching straight back into the crowded narrow street of the night market.
"Hey, wait up!" Satoru's voice called out from behind you, entirely laced with amusement. You completely ignored him, weaving furiously through the clusters of tourists and locals. But it was impossible to outrun him in a crowd.
And you looked utterly ridiculous with the fluffy slippers that you were wearing.
Within seconds, his long ass strides caught up to you, his shadow falling over you once again."Wifey, hold on," Satoru teased restlessly, leaning down slightly so his voice vibrated right next to your ear. "You’re walking too fast. Can't lose my three apples tall wife in this crowd." He held up the plastic shopping bag, shaking it lightly so the plush slippers inside rustled. And his other hand was holding the shoes that were cutting your feet earlier.
"Stop saying that word!" you shrieked quietly, covering your burning ears while kept marching toward the bright neon exit of the market. "I was just joking! It was a slip of the tongue!" you exclaimed so loudly over all the sounds of the night market.
"Sounded pretty official to me," he countered, a low, effortless chuckle rolling through his chest. Satoru didn't try to stop you from walking this time; he simply walked right beside her, matching your frantic pace with ease, a proud, permanent smirk etched onto his face.
By the time they reached the edge of the market where the neon lights faded into something quieter. The night was officially winding down. The roaring crowds began to thin, and the cool night air brushed against your flushed cheeks.
You finally slowed your pace, letting out a long, exhausted sigh, though you still refused to look him in the eye.Even though you had tried so hard to storm away to escape his merciless teasing.
But as you both walked side by side toward the parking spot, the heavy weight of the shopping bag that was in his hand was a constant reminder — you were caught red-handed. And judging by the soft, fiercely affectionate look Satoru gave you whenever you tried to steal glance at his way, you're 100% sure that insufferable blue-eyed menace absolutely wouldn't let you forget any of this.
The view from the top floor of the corporate tower usually anchored him.
But today, it was just an annoying distraction. Satoru's office was a piece of architecture that screamed generational wealth. Polished obsidian floors stretched out to meet floor-to-ceiling glass walls that overlooked the sprawling Tokyo skyline. A heavy desk carved from a dark walnut sat in the centre of the room, stark and clean.
There was nothing felt out of place but except for the massive, slightly crushed plastic shopping bag sitting on the sleek leather sofa across from him. Peeking out from the top was a flash of white-colored cat with blue eyes and a goofy, embroidered smirk apparently reminding you of him.
Satoru rested his jaw in his palm, his eyes boring holes into the vacant desk just outside his glass door. Your workspace was perfectly neat. The computer monitor was dark. Multi-coloured pens and highlights that you used for your reports rested inside the cute pen holder you had on your desk.
No blue bows tied into your shoulders as shaking with silent laughter. No rustle of a white, flowy garment as you rushed around making his life a chaotic mess.It was 08:45 AM.
You were never this late. That's a lie, he's just being dramatic. You sleep like dead every morning. Even missing your 19 alarms that were shaking down the apartment of yours.
Satoru's mind traced back to the previous night. After you had spent twenty blocks frantically marching away from his relentless teasing, he had finally managed to guide you into his ridiculously flasy car. During the drive, you had pouted, staring stubbornly out the window at the passing neon lights while your cheeks retained a stubborn, lovely pink hue.
When he reached your apartment building, he walked you safely to the very door of your apartment. " See you tomorrow, boss," you muttered, intentionally using his professional title to re-establish boundaries, though your eyes had darted nervously to the bag of slippers in his hand. " See you tomorrow... wifey," Satoru had murmured back, just to watch you suffer.
He's such an asshole.
Satoru shifted in his gigantic ass chair, his brow furrowing as a rare spike of genuine anxiety pierced through his usual idgaf demeanour.
He picked up his personal phone for the fourth time in ten minutes.No texts. No emails. No formal sick leave request routed through HR.
Did he push you too far at the market? Was the "no escape" comment too intense?
He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the dark wood of his desk. Satoru was a man accustomed to having absolute control over multi-million-dollar mergers, yet here he was, completely devastated because his secretary had missed her morning check-in.
He unlocked his phone, Satoru's thumb hovering over your contact name. Part of him wanted to demand an explanation as your employer, but the louder, more desperate part of him just wanted to make sure you didn't catch a cold from walking around the market in your thin, flowy dress.
The rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the dark walnut desk stopped instantly when the internal intercom buzzed.
" Sir, your eleven o'clock appointment is arriving, and I have a quick update from Human Resources regarding your executive assistant," a generic voice from the temp pool chimed through the speaker.He didn't care about the appointment.
He pressed the button, Satoru's voice dropping into his usual tone, commanding corporate register. "Put the HR update through."
" Ah, yes, sir. Head of HR just messaged. Your secretary submitted a digital formal request about twenty minutes ago. Stating that she is taking a paid day off today for... personal reasons. It was auto-approved due to her perfect attendance record."
Personal reasons. Is this how you gonna play this??
"Understood," Satoru said shortly, cutting the line before the temp could say another word.Leaning back into his leather chair, an annoying scowl clouded his face.
Personal reasons? you had never taken a random day off in the five years — you had worked for him.
Not once. Well, he didn't let you take any, btw.
Satoru's eyes drifted back to the giant plush cat ears peeking out of the shopping bag on his sofa. A slow, knowing realization began to dawn on him, replacing his anxiety with a wave of deep amusement.
You weren't sick.
You were just hiding.
This dude is so fucking delusional.
The proud, stubborn little secretary who had boldly claimed she was going to be his "wifey" under the night market lights had woken up this morning, realized the full weight of what she had said, and panicked.
You probably couldn't handle the thought of sitting at your desk outside his glass wall, having to look him in the eye while he poured your morning coffee and reminded that there was no escape.
Talk about being delusional. I had been diagnosed for less.
A low, slow chuckle vibrated in his chest. Satoru stood up, fastening a single button of his tailored suit jacket as he walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window. "Personal reasons," Satoru murmured to himself, his reflection showing a thoroughly entertained, fiercely possessive lopsided smirk. "Nice try." Did you really think a digital HR form could keep him away?
You told him last night that you were gonna be his wife very soon, — you didn't, btw
And Satoru was a businessman who always collected his dues. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and ignored all the boundaries entirely, like what the fuck personal space did even mean?
You loved your personal space. Satoru also loved your personal space.
Grinning like a love sick fool — Satoru kept typing direct messages to your personal number.
Was looking on the bluelock wiki and apparently sae regularly takes 1 hour naps?! thought it was such a cute idea for a lil drabble so here you gooo. literally just straight fluff.
As much as your boyfriend rejected the idea of spooning, protesting that sleep was strictly a time of rest and personal space, you could always count on his mid-day nap as a loophole to his no-cuddling policy. By afternoon, after interviews and practices, Sae practically had no energy left to deal with people; not even to swat you away. So, to his misfortune, it eventually became accepted routine for you to snap on some brand-sponsored eye masks and settle down on the couch with him during his designated nap time - at exactly 3 pm.
"Alright," he would say, setting the timer on his watch. "Come here."
And at 3 pm exactly, your only rule was to keep silent. Almost always, you found yourself on top of him, your head resting on his chest so you could fall asleep to his heartbeat. He'd tolerate the clinginess, just for an hour, and maybe unconsciously (?) sling an arm around your waist protectively. The two of you would stay like that until both of you fell asleep. Once you woke up, the precious hour would be over in an instant.
This habit of his (now, yours) had actually proved effective to your sleep schedule - you found yourself less groggy during the end of the day, and your overall energy had increased decently. Though often, you wondered, was it really the sleep that rejuvenated you, or getting to be in Sae's arms?
So, on an unassuming night, you decided to experiment. Shifting sneakily under the covers, you carefully took Sae's hand, beginning to wrap it around your waist as slowly as you could until you heard his tongue click. You groaned.
"Uh-uh," he muttered groggily. "Don't even try it, babe."
being toji’s older sister comes with multiple disadvantages.
he treats you like his personal bank account, walks into your room just to fart or flex in your mirror, eats all your things, and calls you to pick him up at ungodly hours when he’s drunk.
the worst disadvantage, however?
his obsessed, annoying cocky little best friend.
although, as sukuna’s 6’4 tattoo muscular tank of a body slides into the backseat of your car, his smirk unmoving and cologne strong— you were unsure ‘little’ was really the right adjective.
“you know, driving you and your friends home when you’re drunk was an offer when you were eighteen— not twenty two.” you muttered. toji only grunted, relaxing in his seat.
“shouldn’t have offered at all, then.” he muttered, already drifting off to sleep. sukuna only poked his head between the two seats, red eyes on your face as you drove, smirk widening when toji spoke again. “sukuna’s staying over.”
“of course he is.” you muttered. sukuna only grinned, the action sharp and annoying, and toji only snorted loudly. once you two arrived to the apartment you shared with your brother, sukuna was dragging him upstairs, his eyes on you the entire time.
you ignored it, letting him struggle with getting your asshole of a brother into bed as you slid into your kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. by the time you were settled on the counter, taking your first sip, footsteps echoed until sukuna was joining you, his eyes flickering to you as he grabbed a glass for himself.
you slowly tilted your head. he was never that quiet. was he okay? oh, fuck, has he finally given up? were you finally free—
“toji told me some guy bought you flowers.” sukuna finally spoke, voice deep, unamused. his pretty eyes narrowed. “you rejected him, right? does he not know you have a husband at home?”
you almost choked on your water, wide eyes flickering to him, utterly flabbergasted. “husband?”
“husband.” he insisted. “i got toji’s blessing.”
“kuna,” you started, oblivious to how the nickname made his eyes soften and ears flush. “you really need to see someone about those delusions.”
“you’re right,” he drawled out, stepping closer. “i should start seeing you.”
you sighed. he turned serious, his eyes darkening, stepping closer, palms firmly pressing against the counter on each side, frowning.
“how long are you going to pretend I don’t really want you?” he asked, voice low. “you’re not stupid. you know this isn’t a joke.”
you swallowed harshly at the change of mood, voice quietening. “kuna—“
“you know i would do anything for you.” he cut you off, serious. “you know how serious i am— fuck, y/n, i have wanted you for years.”
you sucked in a sharp breath. he continued, voice growing more intense, almost desperate.
“you know i would kneel and beg for you to give me a chance,” he murmured. “i would do absolutely anything for you. you used to use age as an excuse when we were kids, and it fucking haunted me. two years should never matter as much— but whatever. i was patient, i waited and waited, and ‘m a fucking man now, and you know it. i can handle it— i can handle you. i will be the best fucking gentleman— i would be the perfect boyfriend for you.”
he leaned closer, enough for you to feel the heat of his body against yours.
“i fucking did everything.” he grunted. “you hated cigarettes, so i quit. you said you didn’t date losers, so i scored top grades, had a social life, and got l a fucking full-paid athletic scholarship. i never even touched another girl— because no one could even compare to you. it’s always been you.”
he paused for a second, taking in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering shut. “i don’t even care if you think it’s pathetic anymore—“
he froze when your lips pressed against his— hard enough for him to shut up, yet gentle enough for him to absolutely melt against you. his hands were immediately on your waist, warm fingers practically shaking, a whimper escaping his lips— the sound so deep and desperate, almost as if you were air and he just learned what it was like to breathe. you pulled away, and almost grinned at the needy whine escaping his lips. his face was flushed, eyes slowly pushing open, breathing shaky.
“you’re a horrible kisser.” you whispered softly. his cheeks flushed further, lips forming an embarrassed scowl.
“ex-fucking-cuse me for saving myself for you,” he muttered, fingers holding into your waist more tightly, as if you would disappear if he didn’t. he let his face drop into your neck, and breathed out as the realization settled in. “you just kissed me.”
“…i did.” you whispered. “had to shut you up.”
“‘ll talk forever if that’s what it takes.” he mumbled. “fuck. that was everything i ever dreamed of and more. can we kiss again?”
“you’re not gonna take me out a date first, mr. i-will-be-the-best-gentleman?” you teased, sliding a hand into his hair. his head snapped up, eyes wide.
“you’re serious?” he grinned, looking more like a puppy who finally got his favorite toy more than a terrifying, tattooed frat boy who people were terrified of, a man twice your size. “oh, ‘ll fucking spoil you. i’ll treat you so good, you’ll forget other men even exist. i’ll buy you flowers— fuck, ‘ll buy you an entire fucking flowershop—“
“do i need to kiss you again?”
his grin only widened, already leaning down eagerly. “you ask that like i would ever be stupid enough to say no.”
Synopsis. A jester marrying a princess? Not even in the most terrible joke.
Gojo Satoru has loved you ever since the first time he made you laugh, he’s loved you since you appointed him as your personal jester—and he’s loved you even when your royal engagement was announced.
But if only a prince can marry a princess…maybe a jester can wreck it.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!princess!reader, jester!Gojo, royalty AU, forbídden Iove, yearning, PLOT, hurt, best friends to Iovers, betrothaIs (not to Gojo), he’s so siIIy, and so in Iove, sad backstorìes, vìoIence and bIood (not to or from Gojo), rhymes, pranks, Naoya’s awfuI, hidden schemes, makeovers, masquerade baIIs, masks, somewhat CindereIIa-Iike, oraI (fem rec.), tongue f, fìngering, he’s PÚSSYDRÚNK, p taIking, pínching, bíting, spítting, ínappropriate use of the jester hat, he’s FÉRAL, raw, matíng presses, first times (for both), he’s BlG, making it fit, talking you through it, pushing down, dirty taIk, rhymes whilst he’s INSIDE, creampíes, cúmpIay, royal weddings, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 16.8k
A/N. TO THE LOVELY BABYGIRLS THAT HAVE BEEN BEEEEGGING FOR THIS TROPE- and inspired by the very talented @/karolineprihodko on Tiktok <33
“A fool may sleep. A fool may sneer. A fool may ask why the princess is crying here?”
It’s so sudden that it stops your tears.
Crouched in a small passageway near the royal court. Between the gleaming armors upon display of Gakuganji the Great and Kashimo the Fierce. For a brief moment of madness; you think you must have imagined the lilting voice—almost melodic. Marvelous.
It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard - even more so than the music wafting from the open doors of court, brought by the travelling circus that your palace was entertaining.
And then you’re hearing him again.
“Sob sob sob—for my princess is a crier. Dear Gojo here, shall set Yaga’s stache on fire—!”
That makes you finally lift your head out of your arms, with a laugh that is full-chested and unabashed. For the first time in a long…long time.
“What might your name be?” You ask the boy with the bright blue eyes, and an even brighter smile.
And that was the story of how you met Gojo Satoru - when you were eight, and he’d been merely ten. Though he didn’t look ten—he might’ve looked even younger than you.
White hair. Winks of dimples upon each cheek. His face was chalk-white from the make-up typical of jesters, even young ones, supposedly.
He was drowning in a faded red and blue jester outfit that looked as if it’d been dragged through multiple shows a night. It looked far too big to have been his originally. Even through the patched-up collar, his collarbones showed, and from the too-wide sleeves; his pale, near-skeletal limbs stuck out oddly.
His face was pretty, however, with eyes too large for his head.
Gojo’s cheeks were sunken in, yet his smile wasn’t the slightest bit smaller. That, too, looked too large to be his.
And you…
Crying outside the royal court, after your parents had declared you far too young to see the travelling circus. The acrobats. The sword-swallowers. And one little jester…that had gone missing during the processions.
Though, in time, Gojo took delight in weaving in additional parts of fighting off dragons and two haunted knight armors—enraptured courts that clapped and laughed as he sang of a white-haired fool and his crying princess. He’d whisked you off your feet and made you swoon in ways a princess utterly shouldn’t - and then produced you before your horrified father, His Majesty, as the sole suitor that made you laugh.
At least according to him.
Though one thing was true from that fairytale: Gojo had been the only person to make you laugh. The only one.
Previous jesters and palace acts wavered between confusing you with their overly long ballads, or enraging you - all because they assumed some little princess couldn’t handle humor. And maybe that was why - Gojo hadn’t underestimated you - that you’d gone right up to your father in the middle of a particularly splendid fire-breathing act, stood in the center of the lavish floor, and declared—
For Gojo to be released from the circus to become your personal jester.
As a royal jester he would be clothed, bathed, and tutored alongside you - so long as he kept you entertained with his rhymes (to which you had no doubt that he wouldn’t falter).
Not minister nor royal guest should lay a hand on him. He was to be treated as an equal member of the court, and should have titles bestowed upon him in due time—but for now, he will grow up as your best friend. Your only.
And whilst declaring this in about as much royal haughtiness as you could have managed, you looked over at Gojo. You don’t remember for what reason. You don’t remember what you were looking for.
All you remember is that Gojo’s eyes seemed brighter in that moment, like the night’s cloak of stars. There were tears in his eyes.
And he flashed you his crooked grin.
You grinned back.
His Majesty and the advisors didn’t take long to mull over the thought before asking the circus master to name his price for the boy. And Gojo had been small then - oh-so-small - a mere waif of a boy. He was clearly the youngest amongst these adults, and the circus master hadn’t even remembered he was part of the troupe.
He’d demanded two crowns and a bag of wheat.
To which The King had obliged with a simple wave of his hand—before freeing the other circus members, as well. He was merciful…most of the time.
And you’d been so overcome with joy that you ran to the jester and took his hands then and there.
Had it been in the little passageway where you’d met, then you might even have embraced him.
But perhaps you’d given the ministers enough conniptions for the day?
“Follow me.” You breathlessly whispered to the little jester that seemed far too shocked for words. “I shall summon the royal tailor whilst you take your bath- we have every fragrance in the land, and more than enough botanical springs.”
But the longer he stayed speechless and unmoving, the more self-conscious you grew.
Your fingers loosened around his, “That…that is if you wish to-”
“I do.” He stopped you from slipping away - he clasped your hands even tighter. Tight enough to nearly hurt—but you didn’t stop him. “I-I’d be honored, Your Highness.”
“You shan’t have to call me that.”
And though a few eavesdropping court ladies and gentlemen gasped at the destruction of long-held social etiquette, Gojo had merely smiled and nodded. And then you’d been the one to whisk him away.
You.
Gojo shared little about his upbringing that first day in the palace, and even less over the years. You knew that he’d been born into an average family just a kingdom over - Gojo itself was a fairly used name - but tragedy struck and his parents both passed away—although you never asked how, and he never shared why. It almost…seemed as if he didn’t remember. A part of him that had scrubbed out most of those years, like a bloodstain.
And he’d lived in the same lifeless home as them for five days. Trying to wake them.
No one listened.
No one arrived.
No one helped.
No one helped.
No one helped.
Driven by hunger and loneliness, Gojo finally left the house after those five days. And just his fortune, he hadn’t walked long before encountering the travelling circus—so many jugglers and jesters and acrobats and fire-breathers. And one master leading them from the front.
He’d been both enraptured and scared.
And hungry. So…so hungry.
Even the smell of the lion food was appetizing to him.
One acrobat passing by had spotted the boy watching wide-eyed from the side of the road, and seeing how desperate he was, shared her lunch and invited him to join. It was the biggest act of kindness he’d felt in five days.
And so he taught himself to rhyme. To joke. To smile.
And two years later was when you saved him- you told Gojo that it wasn’t so much as saving him than him saving you. But he denied.
“Thank you.” Gojo had whispered to you, almost fearful, during his first night in the palace. The Princess’s jester had been granted quarters right across the hallway from your own chambers—and yet, the first night was always the scariest, wasn’t it?
He’d given you quite the fright sneaking into your royal chamber after all the candles had been snuffed and your attendants had left. Soundless as a mouse—and looking just as unwelcome inside the gilded bedroom. But eventually, you welcomed him onto the lavish mattress far too large for even two.
Let alone two children.
Laid a fair distance apart, you faced each other.
“I forbid you to say those words again, Gojo.” You smiled. “And just for the one night, I trust?” You meant the bed-sharing; should your attendants walk upon this in the morning, then Gojo would be thrown into the dungeons faster than he can rhyme.
Gojo nodded, somewhat flushed. “Just for the one night.”
.
.
.
“Satoru-”
“Mmmm, puff pastries and wagashi.”
“Satoru.”
“Huh? Ohhh, sweet cheesecake.”
“Sato—” The exasperated call of his name doesn’t land before the kick does - square in the middle of Gojo Satoru’s broad back.
Sometime in the last few years, after he’d taken up training with General Yaga to keep himself fit for his dances, Gojo had started sleeping without his upper garments on.
And you couldn’t deny that it was a sight for sore eyes; his sun-freckled sun, the dips and curves of his muscles shifting as he did. The roundness of his deltoids. The sensual curve of his spine. The patterns of his scapulae, and lash marks that he wouldn’t explain. They moved like waves of an ocean, and they peaked and fell just as much. Some mornings you dared to trace every single one—just with your eyes, of course.
But of course, he was just your best friend - socially, your jester, at that.
Which is exactly why you’re kicking him off the bed the second you hear your morning attendants heading down the corridor. As soon as he’s out of sight, the double doors to your bedroom open—and they’re floating inside with steaming-hot trays of breakfast and new fragrances for your skin.
One of the attendants sets the breakfast tray down on your bedside table, and you sneak him a few of the blueberry-spotted pancakes. Though have to slap Gojo’s hand away from swiping the syrup, too, before one of them sees.
“Such a beautiful day, isn’t it, Your Highness?” Your head attendant, Utahime, trills as she throws the curtains open to let soft morning sunlight flood inside. “The perfect morning.”
“It is.” You’re nodding. You slap Gojo’s hand away from the syrup again.
“And we have no more than an hour to get you ready, Your Highness. So I beg you to finish your tea quickly.” Another attendant hands you your morning tea - just how you liked it. It smelled of something floral that reminded you of the royal gardens, and something else so utterly appetizing that you could feel Gojo huffin’ and puffing about beneath you.
Served him right for sneaking in again, you think.
You slap Gojo’s hand away again. Utahime continues speaking onwards obliviously, “—prepare for the guest.”
“A guest?” That piques your interest.
This time, Gojo steals the syrup. And it creates a loud clatter that draws the attention of all the attendants sweeping and scurrying about to pick out your gown for the day—you’re unceremoniously coughing to cover it up. You’re not sure it works.
Utahime crinkles her nose, “Nasty little ailment, isn’t it?” Her intelligent eyes dip down to the bed - though she keeps it discreet. Utahime, as well as being your head attendant, was one of your closest friends as well.
Close to you in age, you’d hand-picked her to be what was essentially your right-hand woman.
And she knew of the rather…close friendship that you and Gojo had; perhaps improper for court etiquette, but just right for the two of you.
From underneath the bed, Gojo snickers.
You bounce on the mattress, whilst Utahime kicks the bed post.
“Ah…this ancient bed.” You’re commenting once the other attendants look at you with raised brows, “Honestly, sometimes I believe it to be haunted.”
“Wake up to a mysterious figure at your bedside, do you?” Utahime eyes you. You avert your gaze from hers. “Well, we should do well to rid your chambers of that before the Prince arrives, Your Highness.”
“The Prince?”
“Prince Zenin Naoya, of course.”
Gojo knocks his head on the bed frame.
.
.
.
Prince Zenin Naoya possessed many titles; the latest one being the most unpleasant royal you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.
Which was saying rather a lot.
You’ve met many a-princess that were appalling to her attendants, and many princes that boasted their numerous wars. Your father himself fell into the latter group. And many, many more dukes and duchesses and marquis—and whatever other title had surfaced over the last few centuries and gotten latched-onto with rabid, golden-ringed claws. Had it not been for your duty to maintain a peaceful political climate, you would have forgone those social gatherings altogether.
Though your father was particularly careful not to repeat the border strife that had occurred not too long ago in your kingdom…some violence-seeped dispute over power.
And so you lifted your head and plastered a smile.
You managed to clamor through even the most painful of social obligations.
But this one…this one might just force you to rewrite all the royal rules that had been drilled into you since you were younger.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You nod in acknowledgement as the Prince bows. His coronet was made of pure gold; a simple band with a blood-red ruby in the middle.
It flashed at you menacingly.
And so did his pearly-white smile.
“The pleasure is all yours, Your Highness.”
You’re taken aback at his choice of words. You meet Gojo’s eyes a little ways away from the court- and his read the same confusion. He shakes his head imperceptibly. Then Naoya turns to the King seated on the throne beside you instead. His smile leers, “My utmost gratitude for this invitation, Your Majesty. My parents send their regards.”
“Good people, good people.” Your father nods, “Their assistance during…those times of trouble shall forever remain in my memory.”
“Who are we if not united against the face of the radicals, Your Majesty?” Naoya graciously bows once more.
“Well said.” And then the King makes a sweeping gesture in your direction. “And in the future, it seems we shall be united once more.”
Naoya throws his gaze at you again, and the way he looks at you…it makes you hug your arms to yourself.
You’re unsure why your gaze had been upon Gojo at that very moment - they always did seem to find him - but you watch as his expression darkens. Darkens. Darkens. In a way you’ve never seen before, and then it’s hitting you—
“Father?”
But he ignores you, “Satoru—!” In the years that you’ve brought Gojo to court, your father had become rather fond of his rhymes and riddles as much as you were. So it wasn’t exactly surprising that he had been called upon, and Gojo’s expression switches instantly into one of foolish mirth. “Why don’t you share one of your amusing rhymes with our guest?”
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” He bows deeply. As he makes his way to the middle of the court, where Naoya and his entourage were gathered, the bells upon his blue-and-white garments jingle.
And before you know it, Gojo clasps onto Naoya’s shoulders and ensnares him with his words. “Naoya o’ Naoya, with your great riches and gait.” The corners of his lips twitch - something sharp. Gojo covers his mouth in a faux-whisper, though his words reach every single corner of the vast chamber. “Every lady here knows you take potions to compensate~”
Naoya’s face turns green then red. A furious red.
As if fearing the Prince would swing, Gojo jumps back- just in time for the hay-blond man to whirl around. “But oh, no potion shall make Prince Naoya’s rooster big—the most you ladies get will be the size of a fig~”
The jester laughs maniacally, and so does much of the court; you yourself can’t stop from letting out a startled laugh or two.
Your best friend never did hold back - perhaps because he was the only one allowed to do so without fearing the threat of the dungeons.
And Gojo watches as a giggle slips past the hand you’d brought up to cover your mouth- and his grin widens as he takes it as a challenge. Dancing around Naoya, he continues—
“Naoya is hated by the ladies of the court. Naoya is hated in his medical reports~” He trills gleefully, darting a hand out and knocking Naoya’s coronet off. “And all the ladies and all the healers, have never seen a cock this short~”
Red face now turning almost…a sickly yellow, Naoya attempts to fist-fight the jester. Though Gojo was far more agile than he looked, and he was dodging each hit with ease.
“Oh—have I offended you, Your Highness? Perhaps a change of pace…” Gojo crows. “For all Naoya hates women, he might as well court men-”
“You- you—”
“Easy, son.” Your father chuckles to himself as well, “You should do good to familiarize yourself with the Princess’s jester if you are to marry her.”
Gojo stutters- and his rhyme pauses. His eyes widen.
You feel the red, red carpet give out beneath you.
.
.
.
“I simply must…apologize for Sato- my jester, Your Highness.”
The clinking of silverware fortunately masked the waver in your tone. It was insincere and unapologetic.
Naoya maintains an expression as if he’d just smelled something unpleasant, perhaps as if it was on his very plate. The Prince cuts into his bird with far too much force than necessary, “Apology accepted.” Rather short.
Though you yourself didn’t care—you shoot a look at the ministers that were currently attempting to meld into the royal portraits on the wall.
With nervous smiles, they urge you to continue.
It was a poor imitation of a romantic dinner - as romantic as a political marriage could get.
The royal dining room had a table that sprawled nearly from one end-to-end. Polished mahogany. Intricately-carved legs. So thick that they didn’t buckle under the hundreds of dishes piled on top: soups to puddings to heart-shaped wagashi to those you couldn’t even name. Woven in-between were flickering candles and vases of red, red roses—sprouting confessions of love.
Some of those petals were even scattered across the floor.
Though the dining room could seat about four-hundred guests, right now it only seated him and you. You and your future husband.
Your future husband.
Your future husband.
Your future husband.
It still hadn’t sunk in, and you didn’t want it to.
Zenin Naoya takes a bite of his roasted bird and spits it back out. From his entourage, one of the Zenin ministers darts out with a dish to collect it.
You wrinkle your nose in distaste.
Two courts were watching this fallacy of courtship.
From your side, it was the entirety of your court save for some of the outer ladies-in-waiting and some gents, and your parents. From his side, it was Naoya’s entire entourage at his every beck, call, and swallow. Just waiting for the opportunity that their beloved Prince didn’t like anything.
Which seemed to be…everything.
You yourself can only pick at the delicacies on your plate - they’d done well to include favorites of both you and His Highness. And yet…
And yet, in the past eighteen years you’ve never sat through a dinner without Gojo at your side.
Always at your right-hand seat. Always chomping through his dinner with overexaggerated noises that made you laugh, and the ministers grimace.
How could you feel so alone surrounded by so many people, and yet lacking one?
You’re biting back a sigh.
“Pssst.”
Confused, you look up at Naoya- but he seems just as morbidly indulgent in his food as he was before. He was spitting out even more.
And so you look around—but none of the ministers nor advisors catch your eye, either.
“Psssssst.”
There it was again. Somewhat irritated and feeling your confusion growing - this dinner certainly hadn’t put you in a good mood - you’re about to excuse yourself from this social hostage-situation. Someone must be attempting to make a fool out of you. You’re resting your hands on the polished table and about to push off—
When you feel something…touch your wrist.
You’re about to scream-
“Tamper your screaming, please.”
Oh, well if they asked so nicely…
Wait-
Who?
Without making too much of a spectacle, you slide your fork off the edge of the table.
Naoya grumbles at the metallic ringing—and muttering a dainty apology, you’re leaning down to pick it up. Or so it seems.
Instead, you’re crouching yourself down and lifting the tablecloth ever-so-slightly. It’s a purple velvet, one of the finest in the land, and it opens up to reveal one of the greatest treasures this palace held. At least, in your opinion.
Gojo Satoru brings a finger up to his lips and winks. His make-up crinkling handsomely as he did so, “Do you frequent these parts?”
“I should ask the same from you.” You hiss, glancing around to make sure that no one was looking. “Satoru, what do you think you’re doing-”
“Exercising my culinary skills, my princess.” And he raises up a little velvet packet in one hand, shaking it around tantalizingly. He answers your question before you can voice it, “Just a little horseshoe, just a little wool from Yaga’s sweater, and perhaps the Prince that swallows this shall be a little sweeter~”
Your jaw drops. “You cannot be serious-”
“Never in my life have I been more serious.” Gojo replies solemnly, then with an innocent flutter of his lashes- “Forgive me for not sharing, my princess. But perhaps you would favor it as well?”
“It shan’t suit my palate.” You answer firmly.
“It’s far more palatable than what I did to the wine, trust me.” Gojo smirks.
“You rouge.”
He opens his mouth as if to say something more, but Naoya’s tone grates through the little bubble of mirth you’d formed—in less than a minute, no less. “Wife- wife.”
You and Gojo stare at one another in shock.
Wife?
One of your ministers coughs pointedly, and with a final glance at Gojo, you’re straightening in your chair. “Were you perhaps addressing…me, Your Highness?” And any smart man would have quickly backtracked at this opportunity to change their answer.
But you never claimed that Zenin Naoya was particularly smart. “My eyes don’t perceive any other woman here?” He scoffs, taking a bite of a chicken leg and then immediately spitting it out—“As for the engagement plans- eugh.”
You’re biting back a laugh as he drags out a string - seemingly from a wool…sweater…of Yaga’s - from his mouth and looks at his ministers in bewilderment.
“Th-the chef must have been in a state of pioneering.” You cough out.
Another bite he takes.
And another wad of wool he spits out.
You bring a hand up to your lips, “Perhaps you should wash it down with the wine, Your Highness? It had been brewed specifically for this occasion.”
And so he does - eyeing you all the while.
Naoya takes a big swig of his goblet and—shrieks as he finds half of a shoe inside.
One of Gojo’s very own.
That shriek is loud enough to make the walls of the dining chamber rattle; and Gojo shoots out from the side of the dining table, unable to keep his laughter in control, and dances away. “Twiddle dee, twiddle doo—Naoya coughed up a shoe~” Those double doors are still swinging as it sinks in what just happened- and your ministers and guards take a menacing step towards where the colorful intruder had disappeared.
You raise your hand to signal them to halt.
“This insolent—” Naoya was spitting with fury- unable to even formulate words. His mouth is a downturned slash, and he shoves the plate off the table. It shatters vociferously.
You notice that he’s turned a little green in the way he only seemed to do when Gojo was nearby. “My first order as King shall be to rid this incompetent kitchen-” He spits. “-and that godforsaken jester-”
Your fork clatters to the floor once again. “What’s wrong with Satoru?” You didn’t care if you sounded rather too offended by such a question. “Is it the practical jokes? I shall request that he ceases such-”
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Naoya cackles to himself. “Woman, what is there not wrong about that goddamn fool? He’s- he’s—a fool.”
“For that is his duty, is it not?” You narrow your eyes at him.
“I suppose.” Naoya leans back in his chair, “But his duty is to the crown, and when I am King-”
“His duty is to me.” Before you know it, you’re standing. You’re breathing hard. You’re ignoring the ministers that attempt to hold you back. “He’s my best fri—jester.”
And you repeat…though you don’t know whether it’s more for yourself, Naoya, or the boy with the blue eyes that was once underneath the table.
“He’s mine.”
Those words fall like the blade of a guillotine.
Naoya’s eyes were spitting fire. “He’s…yours, is it?” He throws his cape back and stands, “Your Highness…I fail to understand why you entangle yourself with a mere jester?” Though the sentence itself wasn’t one particularly barbed, his distaste bled through every syllable.
“He- he is my best friend-”
“He is a jester.” Naoya says with a tone of finality. He pushes back, letting the chair clutter behind him- the brings up a palm to stop his ministers from righting it. “And a jester can never be anything to a princess. Never.”
Those footsteps of his resound louder than your heartbeat. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
On the way to making his exit, he stops before the entrance and speaks. “We are to be engaged in six moons, and when you are my wife, I expect you to act like one.” Naoya’s gaze is deadly as he grips the door open, “My family earned our titles bringing down entire households- a mere jester is nothing to me.”
Another guillotine: this time, it’s the closing of the dining room doors.
“Your Highness-”
But you’re following Naoya out, and tears burn behind your eyes.
Just as luck - or perhaps fate - would have it, who else had been standing behind the doors listening to every word? None other than Gojo Satoru.
Though his face is downturned, and you can’t make out his expression, your heart soars at the sight of him. He’s pressed against one of the walls closest to the doors, and he clenches his fists at his sides. And you’re just about to reach out- to tell him that Naoya’s words didn’t matter- to tell him that Naoya didn’t matter—
But before you could, Gojo sharply turns to you and bows. Those bells atop his hat jingle as he does so, and he stays bowed as he asks, “This fool begs to be dismissed, Your Highness?”
Your Highness? “You…you may…” Your brows furrow, fingers trembling towards him. “But Satoru-”
And yet, he’s gone.
And you didn’t get a single look at his expression.
You wondered what you would see. You wondered what you would be hoping to see.
But no matter what it was, you knew that all you wanted to see - whether anger or mirth or irritation - was Gojo himself.
Your engagement was in six moons.
.
.
.
To your dismay, Gojo Satoru was avoiding you.
You should have realized that something was off that moment after the disastrous dinner—or perhaps when he didn’t join you to sleep, or perhaps when he hadn’t joined court in the following days. According to one of the palace staff, the jester was ill, but every attempt at a visit to his quarters ended up with you being rebuffed or diverted.
And how many opportunities for diversion there were.
The palace was a-flush with florists, and bakers, and candle-makers, and mask-designers—and orchestras upon orchestras practising for your engagement waltz.
One of those times you’d been dragged away to floral-picking for the grand engagement ball - the one that would announce your union to the entire kingdom. Another time it had been to pose for a portrait with Naoya (a particularly taxing endeavour). And another time it was to pick out the colors for your mask- this was to be an extravagant masquerade ball after all. And another time it had been to get fitted for the ballgown you’d be wearing for the night—like exactly right now.
This time, you’d gotten just past the guards stationed upon either side of Gojo’s chambers (both on his word, and to prevent the Princess from getting into any…scandalous affairs before the engagement).
And you’d cracked open the door - ever-so-slightly - only to find that what was inside…made you halt.
Gojo’s room was completely and utterly empty.
Not just of himself, but of his literature books, his shoes, his bells, his flower vases. Anything and everything that made the chamber so utterly Gojo’s, was gone. Even the braid of friendship you wove for him when you were twelve - that he kept at the very top of his jewelry box - and the flower crowns you made for him that he dried and hung from his windows—you made them rather often, before…Naoya.
He had intruded upon your idle dance between love and friendship - and you were still feeling bitter and confused as Utahime fitted you. As she wound up the hip springs of your corset- and tightened, and tightened—
“I just fail- hah, fail to understand.” You’re muttering, slightly out-of-breath.
Utahime looks up from the knots of your corset, “Your Highness?”
The royal tailor had just stepped out to aid in bringing the imported silk and cloth of gold up to your bed chambers, and in the meantime your attendants were helping tighten your numerous layers underneath. Your ballgown - engagement dress, more precisely - would be fitted on top of the base linen undergarments and the crinolines.
Tonight, you will be engaged.
And to a man that has never made you laugh once-
“Your Highness?” Utahime repeats, snapping you out of your little reverie.
“Oh- forgive me.” You nod at her in acknowledgment. “What I meant to say was, I just fail to understand what he’s thinking.”
She nods back - you didn’t have to specify who. “It is precisely as I have told you, Your Highness.” Utahime tightens a few more knots- knocks a few more breaths out of you. “That ol’ nuisance has not a single thought in his mind. You must not worry yourself too much about him.”
“Oh, but Utahime…how can I not?” You’re sure the flurry of other attendants surrounding you were listening in - smoothing down your layers, preparing your jewelry. But you didn’t care at the moment, if you did say so yourself.
“I believe it is just a little ailment, Your Highness. I fear I am not blessed enough for such a thing to prove fatal to that jester-”
You gulp. “I believe Satoru may be avoiding me.”
At that, even Utahime’s brows furrow. “Pardon?”
“His chambers have been emptied of even the flower crowns, and I haven’t even the faintest glimpse of him these past few days.” Speaking these words aloud seems to make them too real. “I believe I told you of how he overheard the conversation between Naoya and I?”
Utahime nods.
“Naoya had uttered some things- balderdash, if you ask me—” Your fists threaten to clench, but two attendants were working on your nails. Another was double-checking the measurements for your mask. Mask. “Yet I fear Satoru may have misconstrued some things…and I haven’t laid eyes on him ever since.”
There’s a silence.
Her fingers finish their final knot.
And then Utahime stands to look you squarely in the eyes. “This is Gojo Satoru we speak of, is it not?”
Slowly, unsure of where this was going, you nod.
“Then you have naught to worry about, Your Highness.” She flashes you such a beautiful smile, looking over your corset for imperfections - of course, there were none. “It is most likely that he’s skulking about these palace walls, looking for a minister to scare or a prince to embarrass.”
You’re letting out a soft huff of laughter.
“Or even…a princess to adore.”
Your eyes widen- and you’re snapping your gaze to hers. There’s a knowing expression that Utahime wears - one she often gets whenever she notices Gojo hiding in your room, or watches the two of you sneak out during royal balls.
This one, in particular, was about to be the most crowded and convoluted yet.
And you’re meeting her smile, eventually. “I thank you, Utahime…” You then look down as you hear the doors of the dressing room fly open, “But adoration cannot stop a royal engagement.”
Three sharp claps sound as the tailor gets the attention of your attendants.
“That will be all, ladies. Thank you.” And his own attendants and apprentices flood the room to take over the fitting stage—Utahime squeezes your shoulder as she leaves.
Though she doesn’t reach her bed chambers for a much-needed rest, as she might have wanted to. Instead, she’s halting right outside the entrance-
“You.”
And making sure you were occupied by the tailoring, Gojo bows dramatically. Holding his little bells so they don’t jingle- “At your service, Madam Sour-face.”
“Cease it.”
“No, I said Sour-face-”
“Forget it.” Utahime could feel a migraine coming on already at the mere sight of his impish grin.
“Sour-face Utahime with her pressure so high, one more joke and she’ll make me cry~”
Why - oh why - couldn’t the universe take as kindly to her and forbid her from seeing this man, too? She continues, “First, enlighten me as to why you’ve been giving Her Highness the cut?”
A too-innocent expression crosses his face. “Pardon? I fear I have no recollection of ever-”
“I will kill you with my bare hands and feel no ounce of guilt.”
Gojo clicks his jaw shut.
“I…” And it’s under the pressure of her unwavering glare that he finally cracks- letting out a deep sigh and dropping his head. “I plan to leave the palace.”
“Pardon?” Even she sounds utterly shocked. “When-”
“Tonight.” Gojo has never sounded more serious to her. “I have spent the past few days gathering my possessions, everything…she gifted me. As the ball starts tonight, I shall take my leave.”
“But your duties-”
“I have informed His Majesty of my decision. It seems though he shall miss the rhymes, he is keen for an amicable marriage between Her Highness and Prince Naoya. A jester can be replaced, trust in a marriage cannot—especially not one of political nature.” Utahime is almost shocked at this simple foresight, but then again- everyone always did underestimate the fool.
She watches his reaction, “And…the Princess?”
Which seems to make him flinch - as though struck. Perhaps a part of him was. “…I shall leave her a letter before I depart. Her Highness does not deserve to see such cowardice-”
“And yet you still remain.” Utahime’s words make his blue eyes snap to hers. She crosses her arms in front of her, and lets a smug smile take over her lips. “For what reason were you spying outside Her Highness’s fitting, if not to see her?”
“I—” He takes a desperate step closer. “It was simply in passing-”
“For what reason did you empty your bedroom of the flower crowns Her Highness made especially for you? Surely they shan’t prove themselves too useful on the road?”
Gojo’s eyes widened. “I…the memories-”
“For what reason have you waited until the last minute to leave? Until the last minute she shall not be yours, and yours only?”
He snarls, “She was never mine.”
“Because you believe the Princess does not deserve to base herself- being the lover of a fool yes?” When Gojo does not answer, she continues. “The fool seems to believe he knows what the Princess deserves. But does the fool know what he deserves?”
There’s a prolonged silence—of which is only punctured by the awed gasps from inside the dressing room, as the tailor and his apprentices comment on your beauty.
Gojo has the sudden, mad thought to open those doors just a little wider and see you for himself. Just one last time.
One last time.
What was he thinking?
He laughs to himself bitterly, “A jester can never be anything to a princess. Never.”
“But a princess can be everything to a jester, yes?” Utahime asks. “More importantly- who are we to dictate what a person is to another person?”
The answer was as obvious as it was painful.
Gojo Satoru loved you.
Loves you.
Something of it must show on his face, because Utahime throws him a pitiful look she’s never shared before—“You may leave if you please, I shan’t stop you.” And then she reaches out and presses a hand against the doors- they part, unlocked. “But if you wish to stay and stop acting a-fool…then follow me.”
She brushes past him.
Meanwhile Gojo looks inside and catches a glimpse of you - and he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
He runs after Utahime, bells jingling.
.
.
.
“You look…”
“How odd.”
“How startling.”
“What a change!”
Utahime crinkles her nose, “The only thing this proves is that your face is more tolerable when it is covered.” She turns to the brown-haired woman next to her, “And that my Shoko is a goddess when it comes to handiwork.”
Shoko smiles sweetly, “I have much practice making death masks.”
“I’ll say.”
As the other few attendants pendulate between laughing to themselves, and admiring Shoko’s quick work - she’d been requested just a few hours before to make a mask befitting a royal ball, and she’d finished it just in time - Gojo leans closer to the mirror.
He reaches his trembling fingers up to touch his face, “This is surely…me?”
“Unfortunately.” Utahime sighs, and she gets elbowed by Miwa.
Utahime had gathered the most trust-worthy attendants she led: Miwa, Momo, and Kugisaki from tailoring. Along with the impeccable royal healer, Shoko, who she knew would be the only one that would be able to create a mask for the ball with her expert hands. And they’d gotten to work fixing up perhaps their most difficult case yet—none other than Gojo Satoru.
The royal jester was rather fussy at first- insisting that the powder puffs and cloth wipes tickled.
Before Utahime put her foot down and announced that they weren’t going to present a ‘half-assed’ (forgive her language) marriage-wrecker to the Princess just yet.
That reminder of you kept him quiet for the rest of the make-over.
And Kugisaki had even commented, “Perhaps we ought to invoke the Princess’s name every time we need to keep the jester in line?”
“Do not tempt me.” Utahime had replied.
Gojo had shuddered.
But it really was true: he sat through the rest of the next hour or two without so much as a single rhyme or peep.
Not even when they told him to ‘pucker up’ in order to douse him in rouges and lip stains. That likely saved five years from Utahime’s life…
Gojo himself helped them scrub off his stark-white jester’s make-up. The vampiric base. The teardrops of black paint. The red, red lips—a few of his little troupe openly stared as they’d never seen the Princess’s jester without his make-up.
And Gojo himself knew that he wasn’t all that bad looking - he had noble features. A strong nose. A high set of cheekbones. A pert, pretty mouth that always looked to be on the verge of saying something he shouldn’t.
Or, at least, that was how you described him.
You were the only person that got to see Gojo without his court-deemed make-up; and you always did say he was handsome. To which he’d always bat his long, white lashes dramatically and compose you a sappy sonnet about your eyes. He supposes he knew he was decent, but…handsome?
He never saw it.
But these girls seemed determined to make him.
Cloudy hair. Delicate features. Blue eyes like a painting.
They replaced his make-up with something simpler. Gone was the cast of white, instead replaced by just a bit of rouge and shimmer. His pale brows were tamed and so was his hair - braided to the side using fragrant rose oils, with a few pieces falling handsomely over his face. All thanks to Momo, of course.
Kugisaki had dug up something from that ol’ tailor’s trunk—a snow-white cloak and doublet, along with the associated tights he often made fun of. It was a suit fit for a prince.
And it was exactly the type of suit he’d made fun of a prince for.
But here he was now - not a single difference between him and them. Or at least physically.
Gojo’s training sessions with Yaga had kept him fit; and he fit the suit perfectly. His broad shoulders were outlined against the clean cut, and his trim waist fit snugly into those damn tights—even through the suit, it was obvious he was well-built, in a way those baggy jester’s outfits never did show. Polished shoes. Silver buttons. Silver belt. Heavy silver chains and pendants that arrived with the robes.
He might even have passed for a battle-hardened Prince like this…
Momo helped him into his equally as white gloves - it seems they were sticking to a theme for him. All the better to help his eyes and his crown stand out.
Oh yes…the girls had somehow bribed Yaga into letting them sneak down to the royal treasure. For just a few minutes.
All the spoils of war and generations of wealth—and they’d come out with a crown.
It was Utahime who’d dug this one out, deciding that that would make him stand out far more than the usual hats.
Made of pure silver; the design itself was rather simple, or so it seemed at first. Only when one looked closer…when one ventured further…could you see that what seemed like a simple band was actually a wreath of silver branches and floral vines twisted into one, with sapphire-studded flowers blooming along it. One more thing had been taken from the treasury - a signet ring with a ‘G’.
“It felt proper.” Miwa, who had found the ring, beamed. “Names and titles are lost to time. And though I may not know what the ‘G’ once stood for, at least for tonight, it can mean ‘Gojo’, can it not?”
Gojo felt it getting slid onto his left hand, and he stares at the ring with furrowed brows.
He stares and stares.
He’s never felt more worthy of you.
By the time they had finished, the strings of the orchestra had started playing their opening sequence - the ball was commencing.
Utahime turns to the rest of them, “We have done well.” Then, ultimately, back to grumble at him. “…You have done well.”
And though Gojo could make up a rhyme to rile her up, though Gojo could comment that they could have done better and bask in the ensuing chaos, though he could do his mask and his mask—
He simply looks at each and every one and smiles. Sincerely. “Thank you.”
They smile tenderly back.
The final component of his outfit for your engagement ball was the mask. Though there was no set theme, Shoko had gone above and beyond to craft his in the shape of the upper-half of a snow leopard’s face. The feline gaze. The sharp ears. The faint outline of rosettes against the white mask. It was mastery.
Gojo dons it and smiles to himself. He really did feel handsome, as you had always said.
His blue, blue eyes twinkle from behind the mask.
.
.
.
“You look absolutely riveting, Your Highness.”
“I thank you.”
This was a royal ball that looked gilded. There was no other word to describe it—gilded.
Polished floors. A thrumming orchestra. Golden chandeliers had every single candle lit; and they crept halfway down to the ballroom floor as if gifted from the Sun itself. Just for you.
And that was in addition to the numerous other decorations that made even the most high-titled of guests gape in awe: the shimmering fountains that looked as if they were sprouting liquid gold, golden-dipped gardenias wreathed around the hallway, and the long table of foods were most lovely. All sorts of sweets and champagnes in honor of the union.
Guests upon guests upon guests being announced as they entered. They were dressed to impress, and there were more aristocrats gathered for this one ball than you’d seen in your entire life, perhaps.
Had Gojo been here with you, then you two would’ve had the most amusing time coming up with stories for each one.
There was Sir Gakuganji who held a secret liking for abstract dancing, here was Lord Todo whose son had fallen in love with a thousand-year-old portrait. No one would be spared. The two of you would have tucked yourself into some alcove and watched as the lavishments flew by, and when everyone was appropriately drunk you’d sneak out to the stables or to star-gaze.
Your heart clenches.
Satoru…
You attempt to shake your head free of him.
It most certainly was a beautiful ball. And if you imagined that this was one of no particular purpose, then you really could see it.
The ball was decorated to match your dress, you see.
Floor-length silk. Gold-threaded bodice.
Celestial layers upon layers.
Your uppermost skirts had gold dusting atop it; and they dazzled as you floated across the ballroom.
Your attendants had decided that going for a more simple look with the jewelry was appropriate - it would accentuate the simple gold circlet atop your head. A single sapphire embedded into the middle of it.
Naoya had sneered at the choice, of course. When doesn’t he? But this time, he was particularly offended at the presence of a sapphire rather than the Zenin family’s signature blood-red rubies.
You refused to make your attendants change it. You donned your cat-like mask with pride.
Perhaps that’s why he seemed keen on ignoring you in favor of a group of other beautiful court ladies in attendance—though you honestly couldn’t imagine anything different happening had the two of you been married, as well. You sighed inwardly.
You’re nodding in acknowledgement as Prince Okkotsu Yuta nears with a man beside him.
He looked older - about your father’s age, if not a few years older. Tall. Toned - in the way of someone that had one been corded with muscle, but had since lost it to age. Bearing an ice-white beard and a row of silver medals proudly lining his chest—he stands before you in his off-white uniform and bows. It was obvious that the man was rather handsome, drawing eyes from around the ballroom.
But what catches your eye the most were his eyes.
Summer-sky blue eyes.
They reminded you of—
“My uncle, Michizane, Your Highness.” Yuta introduces him. “This is his first time in the palace since…”
Your voice drops into something hushed. “I understand.” Turning to the general, you’re half-bowing once more. “I am rejoiced to welcome you into my home, any troubles that we may have had in the past-”
“Have naught to do with the present, Your Highness.” Michizane graciously nods at you. “And most certainly have naught to do with the beloved princess.”
You manage a smile.
“And if you can excuse my being so impudent…it is precisely what I sought this occasion for, Your Highness.” He looks over the bustling crowd, now getting ready to waltz- and seemingly catches the eye of your father. Your father who now looked as though he’d just seen a walking dead man. “I hope to bury the misunderstandings between my family and your father, and understand what happened to my younger brother and his family. It had proved itself to be both a blessing and a curse that I had been on an excursion during those troubled times. And I seek a resolution for the sake of my inner peace, if nothing else.”
You’re nodding in agreement. “It is most tragic what happened. For the sake of borders…nothing is worth so much. And I cannot ask for your mercy enough-”
“It is not something I shall ever be able to forgive. But you are not at fault, dear princess.” Michizane smiles conclusively, but not unkindly.
“And yet, I have been wracked with guilt ever since.” You ultimately reply.
Though you hadn’t met Michizane previously, you had learned that the history between your families was a long and bloody one. His family had been of a royal bloodline, of kingdoms now lost and eviscerated into neighboring ones - including yours. And you knew it was partly the fault of your kingdom. And although royal tutors justified and justified away your father’s actions—you could see past them
“Perhaps…” Michizane is the one to break through your whirlwind of thoughts. He reaches his gloved hand out, a silver signet ring on his middle finger. “-a dance to commence the burying of our animosity?”
“But of course.”
As the orchestra starts up a lively tune, Michizane whisks you away onto the dance floor. Much to the horror of some of your elderly ministers, of course, who gaped at the mere presence of the man.
And at the fact that your first dance wasn’t with the Prince.
But laughter bubbles to your throat as Michizane twirls and swirls you—sways you smoothly around and around the dance floor. He was one of the best dancers you’ve ever encountered, and you’re smiling appreciatively at him once the song comes to a close.
From the corner of your vision, you spot the black-and-red-clad Naoya storming his way over to you. And you hurry to beg a second dance when-
A title is announced - louder than all the rest.
A prince.
Prince…you don’t hear the name.
But you don’t need it.
Because you’re looking up at the grand staircase from which guests made their entrance, hand-in-hand with their partners or followed by their entourages. This one had neither. This one was one of the most beautiful men you think you’ve ever seen.
He looked like something from a story.
Snow-white mask. Snow-white suit. He was tall and clearly toned - but there was something in his demeanor that made him seem almost…dainty. He gripped the balustrade of the landing and looked over the glistening ball- barely even breathing, it seemed like. And he looked content to remain there in awe, before the chief butler reading out the named coughs- pointedly.
The man startles.
He looks over at the chief butler, and then nods jerkily to himself. In self-assurance.
Cautiously, he makes his way down to the ball.
And the closer he gets, the more of his details you’re taking in: like the traces of signature silver on his suit, and the way his fingers trembled ever-so-slightly.
He looked just like the princes you’d read about in fairytales - the ones you imagined as a child before you happened to meet a real-life prince.
Curls of white could be seen behind that snow leopard mask of his. They contrasted oh-so-beautifully with the blue, blue sapphire atop his crown.
Just like his eyes.
Your breath hitches-
“I believe I may have been monopolizing you, Your Highness.” Michizane whispers as the Prince nears.
“Pardon?” You look at him- but he merely smiles.
Before you know it, the mysterious guest has neared enough to give the two of you a jerky bow. His tone tremors ever-so-slightly as he asks, “P-permission for the next dance, Your Highness?”
Michizane nods at you reassuringly.
“I would be delighted.” You breathe, and then he’s taking your hand in his—gently. A touch even softer than the fabric of his tender, tender gloves.
“I bid you a good evening, Your Highnesses.” Michizane tips his hat, “And do take care of the lovely princess…” Before turning to the younger man…his brows furrow the longer he looks-
But a lady-in-waiting taps Michizane’s arm for a dance—and he’s made to turn away.
And you’re left alone.
With him.
Naoya stuck with some other lady-in-waiting as you put your hand…tentatively on the other man’s right shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath, as if your mere touch was replenishing his soul—and he doesn’t move away. Then you let your second hand get grasped - gently - in his own.
Backward with your right foot.
Sideways with your left foot.
Backwards.
Sideways.
Backwards.
Sideways.
It’s halfway into the song, pressed closed to his thundering chest, that you finally break the silence. “The crown suits you…Satoru.”
Gojo flinches, “You discovered-”
“You did not seriously think you could fool me?” You smile. He mirrors it- albeit sheepishly. “Gojo Satoru, how could I possibly be gulled? You have been my dearest friend since I was eight-”
He twirls you in the middle of the ballroom.
And you continue. “-and the one I hold closest to heart.” Looking deep into his blue, blue eyes.
Gojo sighs, “Words cannot describe how beautiful you are, my princess. The least this fool can do is but dress to impress.”
“You look particularly dashing this evening as well, Satoru. You always do.” Surprise makes his lips part—and you’re leaning in. Though they do not touch, you hear gasps from the onlookers. “You look like a Prince.”
“And you look like my dreams.”
The two of you dance for a second song, and a third, and a fourth. Without letting Naoya gain any entryway between you two - that non-existent space - you two dance the night away—dizzy with nothing but the proximity.
The realization that you could be so…close as long as no one found out. That you couldn’t be closer.
That you could.
That you needed to.
By the time that most of the guests had well and thoroughly indulged themselves in the bubbling champagne and wine, the clock had struck midnight—and you and Gojo disappear into the night once no one’s looking. Through the small passageway where the two of you had first met, then up a few flights of staircases, breathless and giddy, you’re lucky there were no guards stationed outside your bed chambers as the ball raged on.
And you’re opening the door and falling into the vast bed with him.
Your hands on his lapels. His hands on your waist.
You’re both letting out synchronized grunts as your back hits the springy mattress, and Gojo’s letting out a scorching breath that fans your face. That sets your skin searing.
“We ought not to…” You whisper- and then you’re pressing your lips down his neck. Illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the windows.
“I am of the same thought.” He responds, in an equally hushed tone - as if anything louder would shatter this fragile dream. It most certainly must be a dream, yes? This was all you’ve ever wanted- and him. “And yet—”
And yet, Gojo places a hand on the back of your neck, and guides your mouth to his.
He kisses you loooong and deep- and inexperienced. You both are.
You’re chuckling as you tug his lips open with yours - letting Gojo’s sultry tongue slide inside your wet cavern. He drags his tastebuds inside and moans—
And after kissing you and kissing you as if starved for eons—
Until your lips were buzzing.
Until his hot hips were crushing into yours.
—you let your fingers fall to his silver buttons. Rapidly undoing them.
“My princess.” The jester wrenches deep from his chest - guttural and gone. There was a crazed hint in his tone already. “Allow me…”
And before you know it, he guides your hips to rest back on the king-sized mattress. Sapphire eyes boring deeply into yours- Gojo hands you his crown to hold, as he hovers himself down and unravels the first few layers of your gown.
His fingers are quick- nimble.
And it takes him far shorter an amount of time to rid you down to your undergarments than it takes your careful attendants. Desperate. Depraved. Soon enough, you’re feeling goosebumps prickle across your skin at the bite of cold midnight air; your chemise and undergarments were much too thin.
And soaked.
Utterly, utterly soaked.
But Gojo’s face flushes - almost hard enough to warm your skin through sheer proximity. He admires your sopping cunt through your panties, he leans down and presses his nose right where your clit would be. And then he sniffs—
“Fuck.”
He almost jolts. Reaching in and tearing through your undergarments with his teeth.
“Fuh-fuck.”
The noise that expels from him is almost unbidden- and its primal tone is enough to make your toes curl. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, he stares at your swollen folds. He stares at your glossy slit.
He stares and stares as slick beads out of you in a pretty stream—and before Gojo’s own mind seems to register, he’s muffling a hot moan between your naked legs. Immediately shoving himself nose-deep.
His chin thwacks! the top of your sopping slit, and his tongue wastes no time darting inwards.
Your entrance is so wet that he has no trouble easin’ his thick muscle inside- despite its impressive girth. And then immediately zig-zagging his sensual inches fucking in—aaaaaaall along your walls and driving the curvaceous tip of his tongue into every little ridge and cranny. Fat. Trembling with need.
“Yes, my princess.” Gojo’s managing between husky breaths- each scorched out against where you were most sensitive. “Yes, my princess-”
“S-Satoru—” Your hand’s reaching down to twist your fingers into his snow-white locks.
You’re giving him a particularly hard pull and he groans-
“My princess…” That ocean gaze of his is half-lidded and hypnotized, flickering right up to bore into your eyes as he gluttonously propels his tongue even deeper. “I cannot live if I do not make you mine.”
Your feet plant on either side of his shoulders- a steadfast pedestal. For you to buck your hips and shove your drivelling cunt against his mouth, “Then what deters you, jester?”
Gojo’s chuckle is dark and deepened with lust. “Nothing, Your Highness.”
He’s moving his tongue in and out of your hole at such a frenzy.
This was the night of your royal engagement, and you’re here getting eaten out by your jester—
“Does it vex you that this lowborn jester has finally gotten his hands on the princess’s pretty pussy?” He gurgles out into your arching core, the wads of your sap slipping between his lips—and then back out as he licks. “Perhaps not you…but surely those godforsaken ministers that must have hoped for a more…royal touch….”
And licks and licks and licks—“Y-you keep running that mouth, Sato-”
“Jester, remember?” He grins. “Pray tell, Your Highness, am I the first?”
He must know the answer. He surely must- he’s been at your side for the past eighteen years…and you yourself were aware that you were his first, too.
Yet you find your lips moving before your mind does. And you whimper, “Y-yes…”
“Pardon, my princess?”
“Yes-”
Gojo drags the doughy patches of his fingertips across your clit.
“Then you grant this lowly fool the deepest and most precious honor.”
It was an honor.
An honor to eat your pretty core—to press his puckered lips against your folds in such a sensual kiss- one that would make even the most scandalous of court ladies faint. To part those tender pussylips and dive his tongue inside- every single inch that thrusts away at a vigorous pace. Stuffing you from the hilt of his tastebuds, to that flexible tip that swirled to n’ fro-
Gojo had his face pressed up so closely - so deeeeep - that parts of his features were rubbin’ red. Covered in slick. Dripping with it.
And yet he was only scouring deeper- deeper- fucking deeper until your pelvis was crushed against his hungry maw. Crushed. “And this fool is grateful- so very, utterly grateful.” His tastebuds were going in nearly till those sweetened soft spots you loved so much in those solitary moments in the privacy of your baths, yet he flares his tongue till he’s stretchin’ you out even more. “I shall do anything for you, my princess- anything—I live to serve you-”
Gojo’s honed canines nip at your clit.
“And this pussy.”
And serving you, he is.
With every fibre of his being. With every part of him that could reach you—he’s eating you out like such an animal, as if he was going fucking frenzied on your cunt.
The tip of his nose massaging your clit. That left hand of his fastening to your waist and dragging you right back n’ forth even deeper.
“And th-this fool deserves not such a privilege-” He whispers, mostly to himself. Though his wide, lust-glazed eyes maintain contact with yours, “This fool deserves nothing. And yet…yet, I care not if they happened to enter this chamber right now- I would gladly get thrown in the gallows for this greed, for a second taste.”
Wide-eyed - almost crazed - he tugs his wet tongue uuuuup the middle of your slit, and almost up to your navel. “In fact, I beg of it.”
And his other hand…
Oh, Gojo’s other set of fingers smear the puddle of slick that spreads from your core- all along your inner thighs and making its way down your calves. He collects it all.
Every single drop.
And then, like the most precious of mead, he brings those wettened fingertips up to his mouth and sucks. Savors. Gojo’s eyes flutter closed and his Adam’s apple bobs with ecstasy - “She tastes like she yearns for more.”
“You understand?” You’re asking, half-bemused.
“I speak seven languages, Your Highness.” Gojo replies, “One of which is pussy—” Then with his flattened tongue, he laps up the rest of the satiny ribbons escaping you- before flicking his eyes to the mountain of pillows piled behind you. “My princess, might I request that you procure a little treasure I have left underneath your favorite pillow?”
“A little treasure…?” Almost dazed, you reach underneath and your fist closes around something soft and bell-decorated. One of his jester’s hats.
“A long, long night beside the princess left this poor fool forgetting—the hat bestowed upon me by the princess, I should be getting~” Gojo trills- whilst he still lavishes his heated, horny lips across your swollen cunt. “But if the princess puts it upon my head, she can be as pushy- as she wishes as I eat this royal pussy~”
Your jester is speaking rhymes between your legs?
“Oh, sometimes your mouth is overworked.” You’re harrumphing at the overjoyed jester - once you’re unceremoniously dumping the cap n’ bell onto Gojo’s head.
Grinning, he bites down on the expensive tip of his right glove and tugs it off.
He makes quick work fastening that behind his ears, before nudging your hands to grasp onto the floppy ‘ears’ on top. Your sole source of balance as he leans in and eases one of his long fingers inside- then two—then teasin’ a third.
As he shovels in oblong inches into your sopping cunt, pushin’ apart your tender folds and letting his padded tips find their way inside. And inside.
In and out.
“Please-” You breathe heavily as he quickens the pace after a few squelching thrusts. His middle finger was the longest, and it was spreading you apart the deepest—fuck, it was just so soft inside. So welcoming. So tight that you were clenchin’ around him almost hard enough to make his poor digits snap- and the mere thought makes Gojo hard enough in his trousers that he wants to cream them right away-
You’re clamoring onto your elbows suddenly, “Y-you cannot be serious, Satoru…”
Oh, had he said that out loud? It seems he’d said that out loud. And yet, without even a hint of regret in his grin- Gojo hums. “A jester shan’t ever lie to his princess.” Those kiss-bitten lips of his purse with a wad of spittle that lands gently between your pussylips, “Or his pussy.”
“Your pussy?” You ask- before the breath’s suddenly knocked out of you as he starts driving a third finger in this time. Properly.
Stretching you out to the maaaaaximum.
The globular ends of his fingers edging in, in, in—he doesn’t just remain pistoning them vertically. Gojo’s rude in the sense that he’s hooking them right below where you needed him the most.
Throbbing, thumping; your g-spot was most certainly aching for him.
But that was exactly the problem- and Gojo’s smile grows wicked as he keeps thrusting his three fingers into your cunt. “J-just the slightest bit…fuck, to the left, jester.”
“If the princess may still utter a sentence, then this poor jester must go harder on her entrance~” He croons. Swabbin’ into every good spot except for that one - your favorite - he suckles on your sensitive nub. “What deters you from claiming what you seek, hm? Use me, Your Highness.”
Your teary eyes snap open. When had you even closed them? “Use?”
“Use me.” Less of a demand- more of a live-saving plea. Gojo was so far gone by this point that his hardened hips were ruttin’ against the luxurious mattress with every swipe of his tongue, “Claim what you wish. Use me- use me—”
And as he wishes, you’re lightly tugging on the points of his jester hat to keep him pressed against you-
But that wasn’t enough for him.
“I beg of you—this lowly fool begs…” As his right hand shapes out the tight, tight channel of your cunt - Gojo reaches his other hand up to grasp your own- to make you clutch his cap n’ bells even tighter. Hard enough for his fingernails to leave marks- and he needs you to be just as rough. “Fucking use me like the princess you are. The princess that saved me.”
He ruts even more suddenly- he must be painfully hard now.
“Claim my lips. Claim my tongue- claim every fibre of my being to be used by you…” A low snarl snatches from the back of his throat. “-just claim me as yours, as I have claimed you, my princess.”
And then you’re knocking that stupid little hat off his head- and fisting your hands in his hair once more to crush Gojo’s pretty, pink lips against your cunt. Arching off the mattress, you were just bucking and bucking your treacly pussy all over his face.
Stringing yourself through the shockwaves of pleasure that kept pouring up your legs - like warm water. Gojo was just salivating in-between them.
He doesn’t even have the time to breathe—and you’re getting the distinct feeling that he didn’t want to. Couldn’t even make himself think of anything else but dragging four - now four - fingers between those swollen-shut lips and thud-thud-thudding into your g-spot. “Good princess.” He hisses between clenched teeth, “Gooooood princess-”
“Keep quiet, jester.” You’re feeling yourself get slowly overcome by primal desperation.
“As you wish, mistress~” And Gojo’s never been happier- lashing and lashing those ridged tastebuds inside until your walls buzzed with the texture. “Mmmm.”
And soon enough, you’re feeling your legs start to twitch- in the way they did whenever you had your fingers stuffed deep in the baths- “Oh.” By this point, Gojo was aiming to intrude four fingers and his slippery tongue between your pussylips.
Swirlin’ and swirlin’ it—tap-tap-tapping it over that first tight ring of muscle.
His greed sickened you- and made you even wetter. And with a forceful tug of those angelic strands of his, you’re staring deep into Gojo’s eyes - fluttering desperately as he fights not to detach himself with your wet pussy. He doesn’t.
And he’s accelerating his fingers hitting the bullseye—
“I-I feel I shan’t last very long, Sato- jester.” You’re hissing, eyes threatening to shut as the white-hot pleasure keeps wracking through you.
With his spit-glossed lips wrapped around your clit, he hums. “Mmm?”
“Oh.” You hunch into him. “Repeat that.”
“Mmmmm—” Gojo elongates his nearly-feline rumbles, and then his lips quirk up- into a grin you recognize as being a signature of when he gets a devious idea.
One sure to ruin courts and leave you amused - though you’re sure that you’re the sole one being ruined right now.
He’s nuzzling his face ever-deeper against your cunt, then muffles out an entire sentence - what you assume to be a rhyme - whilst he keeps his mouth sucklin’ on your clit. Making the sensitive bursts of pleasure explode twofold behind your eyes- you’re seeing stars as he repeats it—again, and again, and again and again and again—
Gojo often did love repeating a joke if it managed to make you laugh exceptionally hard.
However, now you were all but crying out for mercy. Your chin trembles as you keen out Gojo’s name in a lingering echo, “I-I really shan’t- oh…” No matter how many years of royal diction or elocution you’ve endured, it couldn’t mask the way your voice cracks on the tail end of your sentence.
Almost pathetically so.
And soon enough, Gojo’s finding his witty mouth stuffed full- fucking you through your high.
Tongue flicking in and out. Teeth grazing over your clit.
He alternates between letting his tastebuds enter your pussy as well—and then letting his doughy digit take over as he suckles on your clit. Like the sweetest thing in the world. “Mmmm.” Repeating his little rhymes over and over- interrupted only by the noisy slurps! of him sucking on your nub- and the embarrassing little whimpers as he was wrenched by you.
Side-to-side. Up and down.
You’re moving him wheeeeeerever you wanted- and he was in heaven as pain sears from his scalp.
You grip onto his braid, and another lock of his hair, as handlebars to prolong your wave of pleasure. The bliss stabs through you white-hot as he presses deeeep into your g-spot. “I haven’t felt anything like this- hah, before, Satoru…”
“Your jester aims to please.”
Your orgasm makes you shiver. It rattles past your walls - where the pounding was most prevalent - and then up your spine to make your head pound with pleasure—the curling of your toes, the fluttering of your lashes, the way you’re letting escape the sweetest soft moans; sweeter than any orchestra downstairs. Gojo memorizes it all.
Through peak after peak.
Through thrust after thrust.
And as the crescendo comes to a close, he parts with your pussy—a pointed squelch! emanates from the connection. “Though the back of this Princess’s pussy I did knock, Her Royal Highness still yearns for the jester’s cock~”
Your mouth gapes, “Do not tell me that was the rhyme you have been repeating this entire time?”
“As you wish, I shan’t.” He grins. And then Gojo’s raising himself to his haunches- shrugging off his cloaks and his coats. “Perhaps another? From all the princes and lords to pick, our beloved Princess yearned for the jester’s di-”
“Another word and you shall be turned out.” You warn him, albeit half-heartedly.
“Now that doesn’t rhyme, Your Highness.” Gojo faux-pouts. With a few more tugs and pulls - he really didn’t understand how you aristocrats wore this on every occasion - he’s ridding himself of his upper garments and his trousers.
Though you’ve seen the royal jester shirtless time and time again, his perfectly-toned body made your eyes bulge.
And then finally the linen undergarments that presented him—Gojo Satoru’s long cock, hot and rock-hard.
He was engorged till he looked fit to burst - with his mushroom-curved tip blushin’ an angry red, and his veins popping out down his shaft. So prominent that you could almost count every throb-throb-throb!
Gojo’s tip glistens wetly with precum, capping the top of his cock and just oozing like a lacquer down every inch. Almost eight inches, if you’re mentally counting correctly.
He wraps a single hand around his thickened base- rustling the soft curls decorating his pelvis. Spreading out in an alluring pattern—Gojo then uses his other hand to nudge your thighs apart. Hamstrings stretching. Toes curling. Making sure they’re pinned to the springy mattress before he inches his red-hot cock closer.
There’s a resounding squeeeeelch! as he smears the very first, readied inch down your opening crevice.
“Easy there, Your Highness.” Gojo’s breath hatches with a moan. “Easy- hah…”
“I am no steed, Satoru.”
“You speak the truth, my princess.” He shoots you a ravishing smile- hungry. He really did look ready to eat you. Ready to shovel his entire length in.
Ready to break—himself. Fuck.
He was breaking himself.
A mere few inches are entering past that first ring of muscle-
And you’re arching your back into his chiselled chest. “Oh h-heavens…” It leaves you and mixes with the broken grunts n’ gruffs that were leaving Gojo just as equally, just as desperately, as he keeps your hips pushed into the bed and siiiiinks his cylindrical length inside.
It’s like nothing your royal tutors had lectured you upon - down to the fact that all those awkward anatomical lessons were for your wedding night with a prince, no less.
You feel a pearl of red escape you—and you embrace him with weakened limbs. “Satoru-”
“H-heaven is correct.” Gojo hiccups out. Was he still stuck on that you’d uttered earlier- had he even heard anything more? And were there…tears twinkling at the edges of his lashes?
Before you can finalize an answer, you’re mewling at the slight resistance of your cunt. Gojo’s cock was oh-so-girthy—more than you might have expected, and seemed to be throbbing even bigger with every second he was mazin’ himself inside you.
And he feels the shift immediately- he’s affected by it immediately.
His handsome jaw grits. His chest caves with a sudden groan. He turns his half-lidded eyes downwards, and using both overlarge hands he grips each of your asscheeks.
Those pretty, princely features of his twist into something agonized- as Gojo arches his sculptured back and drives his cock inside. “Please-” Your best friend pants out. “Please, please, please, please—h-haven’t I served you well, Your Highness?”
“You would be correct…?” You’re answering him- head foggy because of the sudden flurry of semi-thrusts.
In and out. In and out. He was buried just a few inches past his sensitive slit - and the small tremors of your cunt meant that he was thrown to ecstacy every few split-seconds.
Gojo seemed to be growing longer than you remembered seeing him.
Gojo seemed to be pulsing even thicker-
“Th-then…shan’t this lowly fool be rewarded with a single inch…?” He mumbles- sounding utterly drunk. And it wasn’t just his slurring tone and his tapering sentences that gave you that impression - but Gojo had his face pressed into the crook of your neck, and his hot tongue gliiiiiding up your sweaty neck. “A mere inch, my princess-”
You buck- and even that seemed far too much for the pussydrunken jester.
For he’s digging his crescent-shaped nails into your soft flesh and dragging you back into him - hitting his hips with a resounding thwack! “No- no, please don’t leave, Your Highness.” He begs—fucking begs.
“I-I am not—oh.” Another blustering thrust that leaves your deepest innards probed.
“If you wish me to cease- then just say the word. And I shall heed every syllable.” Gojo murmurs, his sapphire eyes threatening to shut with the hypnotic squeeze. With his pure need. With the urge to feel himself from the outside- and considering how big he was, he’s sure he’d manage to. “But please- please, do not leave me. Th-this pussy has been my deepest, darkest desire ever for f-far too long.”
Your eyes widen, “How long…exactly?”
Those plump, rose-pink lips of his graze yours as soft as a feather. “Ever since I knew what it was…and I woke up with quite the ah- rock-hard situation. I had never left your chamber faster, Your Highness- what if the attendants witnessed it?”
You moan as one of his hands lifts off your ass to thumb aside your sultry pussylips. Lovingly full.
“What if they were aware how feverishly I desired you?”
They were just glued with sap- it makes him break off a moan.
“What if- hngh, what if they could see through me—a lowborn mutt- eager to dirty the precious princess?”
Gojo stares so long and lovingly at your slightly-ajar cunt—so lovingly, that his mouth ends up watering. He continues, “To dirty you…to corrupt you.” A stream of spittle leaks from the corner of his lips, and it ends up dapplin’ over your folds.
“To- hah, fuck you.”
Your jester roves his hips closer - smearing the translucent liquid using his hips. Aaaaaaall over as he nudges and nudges his rounded, reddened tip deeper inside - taking over your cunt little by little.
Stars flash behind your eyelids, and in that opportunity, Gojo had reached over to take the crown that he’d donned for the ball. Your engagement ball. And he was promptly caressing the top of your scalp with it, placing it atop your beautiful head—you suited his colors.
Gojo lets out something that sounded more like a prayer: “To fuck you with the crown on, has always been this fool’s most embarrassing wish.”
He’s finally bottoming out.
Finally. And it’s a sensation like none other.
Gojo’s cock was stretching you out in ways you’ve never felt before; managing to mold your channel to his measurements. And his hammers were just so sensual—slow, semi-thrusts so that he can fit himself inside. “Please-” Inside and inside. “Please, please- this lowly jester knows every secret and preference of yours, my princess.”
Your heels are digging into the gorgeous dimples at the base of his spine. “Yes, oh…”
“Every- single- inch—” And you’re being propelled in short jerks upwards- those ancient royal bedsprings protesting. As much as you were begging for more. Your hands drag down his creamy-white back, leaving bloodied marks- and that only leaves him pulsating even harder inside you. Gojo’s blossomed tip had contentedly filled you up till your cervix - “In ways those ministers would- hah, wring my neck over.”
“I would never let them.” You’re spitting out.
“And yet…” Gojo leans down to whisper. “That only made this fool yearn for it- more-” A few more pressurized thrusts, and every prominent vein of his massages your spots oh-so-perfectly. As he pushes n’ pushes he continues babbling, “Please let it fit inside-” His lips tremble with a whimper. “Please let it fit inside—”
Shock strangles your words, “S-Satoru, you’re already inside.”
“P-pardon?” He almost stutters his hips - before he likely realized that your syrupy-sweet cunt was far too heavenly for him to merely linger. And he’s thrusting away like an animal.
Nodding, “Satoru, I promise—” Eyes scrunching together at the incredible sensations of him stretchin’ you out, hitting into your every nook, letting his velvety tip glide across your tenderest area - that g-spot. “You’ve succeeded your fantasy.” Your legs tighten around his slender waist, “Promise.”
Gojo’s chin hits his chest.
And he’s staring down at where the two of you glossily connect—“O-oh…” Gojo’s mouth looked so delicious like this - you almost wanted to bite him - as an expression of cute surprise takes over him.
And all of a sudden, it’s as if he’s simply melting…
Into your arms. Into your cunt. Gojo’s honey-dipped tip probes into your cervix, and instead of even ramming away - he’s merely draaaaagging and swirlin’ the bulbous edge of him around. Again and agaaaaain. The texture of his flared ridge was something incredible, and it knocks n’ grinds against hidden spots of nerves. “I finally have you, Your Highness.”
You’re feeling your heart pound at his confession - oh-so-tender. Even when he was fucking you deep into the plush mattress.
“You have never not, my jester.” You’re admitting back up at him.
The most beautiful smile graces his face- and Gojo’s feeling quite unfairly about all this. So he’s slitherin’ his right hand between your legs and spankin’ your neglected clit.
Those slight brushes of his bushy happy trail weren’t enough—now he was twiddling and turning such dizzying patterns atop that sweet, sweet nub. Watching your every minute expression, he hums. “Beautiful through anger, happiness and shock, yet the Princess looks prettiest on my cock~”
“You fiend.” You’re swatting his chest.
Only for him to gather up those weak legs of yours and bend you into a mating press- a mating press. Muscular thighs against your thighs. Your knees against your tits.
Gojo keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he drills away, “Though this lowly fool may be poor with the manners of a pig, aren’t you happy to have a cock that’s actually big~?”
And that…you have to admit that that one actually draws a laugh out of you.
And just as soon as the bubbling noise emerges from your lips-
Gojo’s body seems to collapse. His hips seem to falter. His cock thunks at the back of your womb, sending your teeth chattering, and lets out a throb-throb so hard that you feel it louder than your own heartbeat.
Your eyes shoot open, “S-Satoru…?”
“I-I am quite alright, Your Highness. Naught to worry about.” Though there was something thoughtful behind his eyes, “It is simply…”
And only after a few more thrusts—after a few more rub-a-dubs of his thumb…fingers now so jittery on your cunt that he’s teasin’ you with his silver signet ring, too.
The smooth metal makes you keen-
“For all the horses and all the men, could not pull the fool out of his princess again.” He near-tentatively utters. It could be heard only slightly above the smacking of skin-on-skin, of his hips practically plastered onto yours, and you can’t help it - you’re startled into a laugh.
“P-pardon?” You speak through both moan n’ giggles.
“Oh…” Meanwhile, Gojo was absolutely shattering. He was drooling. He was—fuck, he was tearing up. And great globules of tears were hitting the edge of your shoulder.
Gojo’s rubbin’ himself raw- he’s wracking his brain a mile a minute just for a new verse to come up with.
Something that will make you laugh.
Something that will make you squeeze your tremoring thighs ‘round him.
Something that will make you clench—and it’s such a startling, tight sensation that damn-near sends him hurtling straight into his high. But he can’t cum before you - of course, he can’t. What good jester possibly ever could? Before his princess no less?
Gojo accelerates his hips until tears start clinging onto his long lashes, and his cocktip starts twitchin’ out of pure oversensitivity.
And so he keeps on repeating—rhyme after rhyme, botched whimper after whimper. Each one more ragged than the last. Your jester was making you whine with laughter as he fucked you- whispering in your ear in aaaaaall the dirty ways one perhaps shouldn’t to a princess.
He fucks you like an animal.
It’s the final note you’re hearing - ‘—no prettier princess than thee.’ - as your sudden high takes you by surprise. Legs shaking. Back arching. You’re squeezing him tighter than ever as the white-hot pleasure courses through you.
Thrumming your every vessel and vein.
Thrusted deeper into you with every one of his- they seem to burst pretty fireworks inside your now-emptied head. Nothing but lust inside it.
And it doesn’t take much for Gojo to topple into his orgasm, as well. He shakes- he stutters…“C-cumming…” Breathlessly. Large tears were puddlin’ at the crook of your neck, dampening your skin more than your perspiration. “And I cannot think of a more appropriate home.”
“Should you sire an heir, they shall have your head.” You’re whispering to him - a smile on your face.
“But you forevermore have my heart.”
“Rake.”
“For you only, my princess.”
That bawling divot atop his shaft keeps floodin’ out a constant stream of cum—hot-white and lacquering your insides. Every single burst of cum made him twitch- letting out the prettiest erotic whines. “My princess—solely for you.”
“More.” You murmur gutturally. “More- more.”
“More…deep inside.” Lovingly, he’s patting at your bloated pussy. “Just for my princess.”
Until your walls were almost heavy with the condensation of his sap, and after only a few thrusts of his shaft- it was pouring out of you almost like a waterfall.
Between the crevice of your puffy pussylips, you feel it drip-drip-dripping out of you. Eventually formulating a little froth of creamy white ‘round Gojo’s swollen base - a few globules that he’s smearing with a thumb and pushing right back into you. A thumb stuck right between your folds. “A-and where do you believe you are putting your hands, Satoru?”
“Simply giving my princess everything she deserves…” He leans down to nibble on your soft ear lobe. “And right on her engagement night, as well.”
You’re moaning as he tugs on your clit a few more times.
“Happy engagement, Your Highness.” The jester speaks, as he fucks his cum into you harder than ever.
You end up babbling for a few minutes longer, before the sudden sparks of your high start bating- and Gojo himself starts finally slowing his hips down.
“Mmmm…” You reach up and clasp him by the back of his neck, sweaty, with his hair curled at the name. You whisper into his mouth, “My greatest pleasure, to be engaged to you, Prince Gojo Satoru.”
There’s a long stretch of silence - still thrusting - before he mutters.
“I really do wish I could marry you…” Summer sky-blue eyes shuttering into the kiss—
“Satoru.”
“—my princess.”
.
.
.
“Zenin Naoya.”
The young man whirls around - and his nose crinkles in distaste as an older man enters the royal guests’ quarters.
No union had been announced.
The engagement ball had long since ended, and you had even long since disappeared with some prince- some jester, as he had discovered through ballroom gossip.
The fucking jester.
Naoya knew he should have gutted him after that dinner.
But alas, once he arrived outside your royal bed chambers to finish off the job- he’d been blocked by your personal guards from entering. That damned General Yaga had threatened that a single step closer could constitute an attempt at treason- treason?
Accusing him of treason? Did he not know who Naoya was?
General Yaga hadn’t budged. And thus, Naoya had no choice left but to retire to his own guest’s quarters.
Alone and angry until morning arrived.
He had just settled with the thought of enacting his own taste of justice today- he shall lure some of the ministers to your bed chambers, perhaps falsifying an ailment you’d befallen under, before Gojo can escape. And once they discover that that lowborn jester had sullied the Princess- dungeons it is for the fool.
And oh-so-generous Prince Zenin Naoya shall agree to marry even a ruined maiden.
Then comes the crown. Then the titles, the land, the power.
The woman shan’t be too bothersome, either, at least you were easy on the eyes. Even if the jester had gotten his hands on you first.
And ah…perhaps he shall throw out this court and your father along with it? That’s if he was in a good mood - and it was the original plan, after all…
Or perhaps he shall stage a coup of which your father had ‘led’ and enact justice as King- yes…a royal hanging should seem righteous enough. The jester shall be first.
This was justice.
Naoya had just been in the middle of writing a letter to inform his father of this change of plans, when a knock-knock-knock thundered from the door. The broad, bearded man on the other side of it hadn’t waited for him to answer before coming inside.
“May I…help you?” He stands. Had this seemed like any old guard or minister, then Naoya would not have hesitated to draw his sword- but this was clearly someone of high status. Of numerous battle accomplishments.
And his eyes dip down to the silver scabbard at his waist…
This was clearly someone potent.
“I have arrived with a proposition.” The bearded man invites himself to sit down on the very chair that Naoya had been at work at.
Naoya’s eyes narrow, “Of what kind? Do I look like an errand boy to-”
“Of the kind I am aware your family is quite expert at.” Those words held such a dark weight to them—and he doesn’t take his eyes off of the Prince for a single second as he utters. “To be frank, I must request the ah…removal of Prince Okkotsu Yuta from the throne.”
That makes the royal straighten. “Find yourself a common mercenary-”
THUNK—!
From underneath his coat, the visitor pulls out a hefty bag - so large that Naoya wonders just how it had remained obscured for this long. There is a weight to it that makes the polished desk rattle, papers flying. There is an overabundance of its contents—so that the burlap rim threatens to burst open.
Naoya gulps as he eyes the - albeit alluring - bag. “D-do you believe the Kingdom of Zenins to have plummeted so far that we hold the need for a single sack of gold?”
The other man chuckles, “Gold?”
And with a single flick at the rim—it’s opening to reveal…sapphires.
A miniature mountain of it.
Such a rare beauty. Naoya had never seen so many in all the treasuries he’d ransacked combined - and his hand it darting out to grasp it—
“This is, of course…merely the advance.” The man places his hand on top of the bag, and slides it discreetly away from the Prince. His fingers twitch towards it, but Naoya can’t do anything with the other man here. “Trust me when I claim that your kingdom will have no shortage of sapphires for the next hundred years. I simply request that you prove your abilities to me.”
That snaps the Prince out of his constant eye-contact with the expensive bag. “Prove?”
His now-client nods. “Prove it. I should hope that the eradication of Prince Yuta shan’t prove too daunting- and for that, I wish to know what other…deeds you have accomplished, Your Highness.”
“The burning of the Inumaki kingdom’s crops.” Naoya immediately blurts out—before he lists off his family’s proud accomplishments as though he was listing off a market list. The other man nods with an unreadable expression. “The…displacement of the Cursed rubies, the demotion of the Ijichi household, the framing and eradication of the Gojo family-”
“Oh?” At that last one, he looks more alert. “Kindly elaborate on that final one, it seems to have ah…piqued my interest.”
Naoya hesitates- before a single glance at the sapphire sack makes him talk once more. “It was prior to my birth, thus the details might not be as adequate. Essentially what happened had to be done- the Gojo royals were advancing their economy in leaps and bounds—far too rapidly, far too soon.”
As he continues, an almost proud smile twitches at his lips.
“It was ingenious- really.” He hums, “Just a few forged letters, just a single meeting with His Majesty-” Naoya gestures vaguely at this palace. “And he became convinced that the Gojos were planning battle over the borders.”
Naoya spits.
“Borders? Pah- what borders?” He’s pacing now, hands clasped behind his back—back turning to the other man as the Prince stares into the licking fireplace. “Come dawn, the palace was painted in red. Ministers. Mongrels. That King and Queen- the cowards begged for mercy, were you aware?”
Silence stretches.
It seems like an eon passes before the man’s answering - in a rough tone that punctures the silence. “I…I was not aware, no.”
Naoya huffs out haughty laughter.
“And what of their son?”
The Prince looks at the other man over his shoulder, brows pinched in confusion. “They had no son.”
“No.” The sword is pulled out of his scabbard. “They hid Gojo Satoru well.”
It embeds deeply in the junction between Naoya’s shoulder and his neck—and his scream is silent. Expression twisted into shock as those final words registered - Gojo Satoru. Even in death, he hears his name.
Much louder than Naoya’s scream was the impact of his cold, dead body hitting the carpeted floor - and almost instantly, Prince Okkotsu Yuta enters the chambers. “I have recorded the confession, uncle, and the troops are storming the Zenin palace as we speak.”
“Good.” Michizane pulls his sword out and watches as blood creates a painting across the brick fireplace and floor. He wipes it off using what would have been Prince Naoya’s engagement robes, and places it back in his scabbard.
Yuta takes a step closer to offer a clean wipe to his uncle, “Should I summon a court meeting at once?”
“No.” Michizane takes it and dabs at the beads of sweat on his forehead. Then he nods at Yuta to collect the bag of precious sapphires, “I have a far more important affair to attend to.”
.
.
.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—!
Both you and Gojo startle awake- and a single glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows reveals sunlight filtering in. A soft breeze rustles the sheer curtains…and Gojo’s beautiful locks right beside you.
It wasn’t the first time that you were waking up next to him.
But it was the first time it was…in such a manner.
You’re tugging on the satin blanket- of which you were wearing nothing underneath. Bare. Barely holding yourself back from him. And Gojo smiles to himself as the thought seems to occur to him, as well, reaching over to kiss you—before wincing at the red, red nail marks that twinged with movement.
You’re leaning in as well—
But then two things occur to you:
It must have been at least midday.
Someone was at the door.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—!
More insistent this time.
The two of you look at each other.
Then at the door.
Then at each other.
Gojo jumps to his feet, throwing off the blankets and attempting to dive underneath your bed- but you’re raising a hand to stop him. Shaking your head imperceptibly. “No…”
“My princess?” Gojo asks.
“I believe there comes a time where one must stop running.” You’re speaking, more to yourself. And in a quick fashion you cross the room to don your satin robe—Gojo manages to bunch up a few blankets that cover his bits. You shake your head and scour for one of his casual night garments from underneath your bed - throwing it at his head.
“For all the princess in the land-”
“Oh, perhaps I ought to hand you to the guards.” The guards that were surely outside. Perhaps waiting to accuse you of treason for shattering the Zenin union. Perhaps ready to embarrass you and your jester in front of the royal courts.
Whatever it shall be - whatever the price may be for loving Gojo Satoru - you’re raising your head high and taking it like a ruler.
You open the doors, and outside stands…
Michizane?
He looks just as startled as you, though he manages out a rough smile. “May I see the ring?”
You’re unsure what he means—and you’re considering telling your guards to escort him away, when Michizane peers inside your bedroom and locks eyes with Gojo. Gojo who seems to startle the instant that blue, blue gaze meets his. Perhaps…
And then he’s stepping forwards- pushing the door open ever-so-slightly further open.
And presenting his left hand - with the silver signet ring still upon it. A hollowed gasp leaves the older man, and he’s clasping Gojo’s hand in his own trembling, timid ones—holding it as though it was the most prized treasure in this world. Buried for eons.
Gojo’s voice sounds scratchy, “I-it is not my possession to don-”
Michizane shakes his head.
“I believe…” He looks between the two of you, bright eyes twinkling with tears. “-that there is much we need to speak of.”
.
.
.
There was to be a royal wedding.
There was to be a royal wedding.
There was to be a royal wedding.
The union between yourself and the long-lost prince of the Gojo kingdom.
After Michizane had explained to you both - let alone an astounded court - that he was the uncle of your beloved jester, that he was titled royalty, and that Gojo himself…was the sole survivor of a gruesome attack that the Zenin family had orchestrated…Gojo didn’t believe it. Not at first.
Not that someone knew his life before this life.
Not that someone had come to…save him. Because Michizane didn’t - to Gojo, it had been you. And it forevermore shall be.
But you could see the fearful hope - almost unwelcome on his face - as Michizane explained that he hadn’t known about the status of the Gojo heir, his nephew, before the engagement ball. He was so young, he must have forced himself to forget such a traumatic ordeal. Thus, it had always been assumed that he had perished along with his brother and his wife—though Michizane couldn’t find a small body amongst the carnage.
And so he had always hoped…always, always…
And it had been the signet ring (looted by the Zenins and gifted to your father, no doubt) that roused his suspicions. Then those eyes. That hair. That smile, like his mother’s.
It had to have been him.
Fearing such an attack, had the late Gojo royals not kept the birth of their son a secret, then his features would have gotten him poisoned before he even stepped foot into the royal court. The cap n’ bells masked more than one would think.
The scheme to expose the Zenins had been planned beforehand - being the only reason that Michizane even attended the ball in-person. And he’d thought that perhaps finding his late nephew’s look-alike had been a good omen.
Had been…
Oh, he just had to confirm it for himself. Especially after Naoya had affirmed that the Zenin’s hadn’t been aware of any son.
Michizane could see the Gojo name in the boy. And so he was right.
Acceptance had taken long hours cooped up in the numerous palace libraries—poring over history books, and rewriting ones that misunderstood.
During this time was when you’d iron-handed your ministers into changing the law that ‘only a prince shall marry a princess’. Of course.
Long days and longer conversations.
Gojo had finally accepted that he was the sole righteous heir to the throne of Gojo by the time he’d ascended to the throne. It had occurred during a coronation too grand for words - of which you were the honored guest, of course.
Michizane had accumulated vast sapphire mines during his time away, and the Gojo kingdom’s infrastructure was soon able to recuperate their losses. Though not all of it…certainly some wounds would take time.
But the first time that Gojo stepped through those familiar palace walls, he cried as if it were a dream. And he’d said as much—“I had believed it was a dream- oh, I believed this was all a dream. This is my home.” As he embraced you in the middle of the royal lobby, you could agree with the sentiment. “You are my home.”
The first portrait that one saw when they entered the palace - moved by Michizane from Gojo’s former chambers to the main hallways - was one of his mother, his father, and Gojo himself.
Just an infant with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile.
He had his father’s eyes, but his mother’s smile.
After Gojo’s crowning, the borders of the Gojo kingdom were reestablished - all territories and citizens that surrounding kingdoms (as well as yours) had absorbed were handed to their rightful ruler.
His kingdom was new…but building. And fast.
Then Gojo had gotten to work helping right all of the Zenins’ wrongs. He aided in expanding the Inumakis’ agricultural lands, he returned the Cursed rubies that had been embedded in Naoya’s coronet to lord Sukuna, he promoted the Ijichi household’s titles twofold.
And he rebuilt his own family.
Of course, the Zenins themselves met their rightful fate. Prince Yuta had attacked their palace and numerous fortresses, causing those family members to be impounded. Some fled but were quickly caught—in part due to General Yaga’s tireless assistance.
Gojo had insisted that the children grow up in his palace. And though you’d been befuddled at first - most certainly you wouldn’t allow them to be hurt…but as for raising them yourselves over placing them in noble homes - you quickly registered that Gojo simply didn’t want history to repeat itself.
Above all, he took in young Fushiguro Megumi as a ward.
The trials for the other family members were currently ongoing.
But, recently, there was a new event that shook your kingdom.
The wedding.
Not one of political nature…but rather love. No matter the class, position, or power the two of you held—you would always be his princess, and he your best friend- oh alright…your jester. But solely because Gojo still loved to act a-fool to make you laugh.
Your father had no choice but to approve your wedding to such a powerful young King. Why would he risk such strong political ties? Why would he risk your abandonment?
Your people throw snow-white petals of gardenia as the wedding carriage passes through the streets- on its way to a honeymoon voyage before setting down in a newly-built palace between his kingdom and yours. Megumi would live there, too, and of course you’d convinced your most-trusted attendants—Utahime and everyone else that had readied Gojo that night of the engagement ball - to reside there, as well.
Not as servers, but with titles. With General Yaga as your head of guards.
You couldn’t be happier.
Gojo holds your hand. Wedding band on his left ring finger, the Gojo signet on his middle.
Faces beamed and cheers soared as you two passed by in your dream-like carriage—upon a cloud. And though the kingdom had been decorated until one nearly couldn’t spot a single roof, Gojo only had eyes for you.
He’s unabashed as he leans down to publicly kiss you.
Now that he finally could, the boy that had once been jester.
“Satoru.”
“My queen.”
A/N. Ugh had just finished watching the animated Sleeping Beauty before I wrote that ending, can you tell??
synopsis. katsuki wants to know why you're staring at everyone today. and, most importantly, why everyone except him ?!
cw. nothin big i think ! readers is kinda weird n its okay embrace your inner weirdo to be cringe is to be weirdo, either way katsuki's into it bad lol, cussing. cut him some slack he's nervous
a/n. short bday post(wasnt originally but i remembered hey today birfday! lol), i had funsies making this banner i wish i could've used it for something better lol but i fink this is cutesie(then again ive got free will for a reason i could use it again if i want to will keep in mind) the title of this is the name of the song that ppl use in that mii trend i think it's so cute omg i need NEED THIS GAME GIMME IT
you're going around asking all your classmates to get a look at their faces.
it was definitely weird at first, the way you walked up to kirishima and told him to sit still for a couple seconds. especially because all you did afterwards was nod and walk off, but everyone is pretty much used to your antics. they were endearing in a way...so he's heard. not that katsuki finds you endearing.
it really would freak out anybody unfamiliar how kaminari, sero, midoriya, iida, shoji... all your friends simply seem so damn eager to help you in whatever it is you were doing. no questions asked. guess you could say class A was bonded in that way.
katsuki wonders what the hell was up with that...but more importantly, he bitterly wonders why you hadn't walked up to him yet.
it's stupid, you were just doing something stupid again. still, it wasn't like you to shut him out of your stupidities. he thought you were somewhat close enough to have him included, yet you avoided him like the plague. there weren't that many people in your class--what, did you think you were too good to look at his face or something ?
..what's wrong with his face anyway ?!
nothing. of course there's nothing wrong with his damn face and he knows that (he'd checked the bathroom mirror earlier and nothing seemed out of place at least). you definitely weren't scared of him..at least he hopes thinks so. the way you never failed to run your mouth sure made it seem like you liked him enough to bother him. so what the fuck was your deal now ?
finally, after classes end, katsuki catches you outside of class 3-B. he'd just been gotten a drink from the vending machine and decides--
fuck it.
"oi."
you look up at him, blinking in surprise before your face settles again. katsuki analyses you, you don't seem mad. he wants to hit himself for worrying so much about how you feel.
"hi." you respond casually, happy. the relief in flowing through his chest feels like a breath of fresh air in a sunny, flowery field. yuck. he should stop thinking.
as casually as he can he cracks open the can of soda he bought, groaning when a few fizzles spurt onto his finger. "what're doin' standin' here like an idiot ?"
you don't ask him the easy question of why he's so curious to know what you're doing, the snide comment he made doesn't even distabilise you a little bit. you never did what katsuki expected you to. maybe that was what made you so interesting to him, regrettably. you definitely kept him on his toes.
you softly rock forward and back on your heels, a soft hum slips past your lips "i'm waiting for tetsutetsu. i need his face."
that was definitely a sentence. to hear on a tuesday.
"...the fuck did you just say ? "
"i need to...see, his face."
you seem to realise yourself that the response was absurd, and katsuki should feel insulted when you laugh in his face but he's sure that if he were to see his expression from another point of view it'd make him chuckle a bit.
"it's for my game." you continue explaining when katsuki raises a brow, mouth occupied with his drink "my tomodachi life island, i'm adding all my friends to it. i don't wanna make any mistakes on the faces, you know ? i promised tetsu i'd add him to my island, so i'm waiting for him now." you say, tone now a bit more cheerful.
katsuki feels his expression sour at the affectionate nickname, he gulps back his drink "and you're gonna corner him to stare at his face like you've been doing with everyone else all day ?"
you nod assuredly "yup."
"tch," he scoffs. figures you'd ask someone from the whole other class before him. not that he cares or anything.
you tilt your head, stepping a bit closer and katsuki almost jumps out of his skin. he hates how you make him feel, how every one of your movements no matter how small throws him off completely.
"you're mad ?"
"no." comes his quick, sharp response. his eyes won't meet yours after a couple seconds of your stare down match. you have those often, granted katsuki thinks you might not see them as matches like he does. you watch him like a docile bird but he feels like prey under your gaze.
he moves back to make space between you both but you step closer. his breath gets caught in his throat, grip now tight on his soda can. "oi-"
"why are you mad ?"
"i'm not fuckin' mad." he hisses through gritted teeth.
you snicker after a pause, clearly not convinced. and you tell him so. because you always believed katsuki needs your opinion on him.
"you're a terrible liar."
usually, katsuki likes that you're so outspoken. it was one of many things thing he respected about you. he also sort of liked how you laughed. it was soft and airy and it trails off at the edges, fading for only him to hear in instances like this. like the soft smell of your perfume that tickles his nose and--
"tetsu sure is taking a while, i wanna add him to my island already. i want to make him friends with kiri." you sigh, your complaint trailing off into a whine.
katsuki snaps out of his daydream to roll his eyes, this time making sure to take a full step away from you, as casually as he could. he chooses to stand a bit next to you, leaning against the wall.
"can't believe you'd waste your time on this shit..." he grumbles, he can't watch his tone enough for it not to sound bitter before it's already out.
"oh, bakugou, you buzzkill.." your eyes widen and you turn your stupid face at him with the smallest hint of a smirk, eyes twinkiling with thoughts katsuki already knows he'll hate. his lip curls up into a frown.
"i hate that face. whatever you're thinkin' fuckin'--stop.'"
"do you wanna be on my island ?"
you say it quickly, arms behind your back to fiddle at your hands excitedly. you talk like you're trying not to scare off a wounded animal. it should feel insulting, but an unknown instinct in him prepares to hiss.
"that's not what the fuck i said."
"but it's what the fuck you meant." you respond without missing a beat, completely straight faced despite what you just said. katsuki catches the laugh building in his throat too late until it clogs weirdly and he clears his throat to pretend it didn't happen.
and clearly it doesn't work to fool you, you smile a little wider.
"that's funny i...i was gonna ask you if you wanted to be in it, actually." you mutter, eyes drifting downards and away from his now. his ears prick up at your words despite himself.
"so..why didn't you ?" he mutters, trying not to sound overly eager.
you shrug casually, too casual for katsuki who feels like flicking you on the forehead for causing him so much distress over something so stupid.
"just thought you didn't want to.." you admit "i wasn't going to force you to be a resident against your will."
he huffs, remembering not to let his arms drop since he still has a drink in his hand. he chugs the remainder of his drink down, then turns and chucks it in the trashcan behind him.
"well...you're not hearing me say no, are you ?"
"well, technically you just did."
"cus you fuckin--accused me of sayin' shit i didn't say." he scoffs.
you roll your eyes but thankfully, you let him have this. "well bakugou, can i add you to my island ?" you smile widely, eyes crinkling at the corners.
he raises a brow, this time actually shoving his hands in his pockets "y'not gonna stare into my soul like with the other guys ?" he jokes.
this time you splutter, eyes darting around you. you quickly look off to nothing in particular to your right. "i don't need to look at your face."
his eyebrows furrow, insulted "fuck does that mean ?! why not ?"
"cus...cus !" you insist weakly. your lips pull down into a small pout and katsuki hates how cute he finds it. you look stupidly cute.
he scoffs. "that doesn't mean anything, just so you know."
"i already know what your face looks like--i'm already looking at you." you shoot back quietly, face completely turned away from him now, glued to the floor, staring holes into the tile below your feet.
pride bubbles in his chest. finally, he has the upper hand. for once, you're the one stumble over your words about him catch you off guard. thinking he might start to enjoy this too much, he takes his chance and steps a bit closer.
"well, now y'not..." he drawls lowly, "you don't wanna miss any details, right ? i'll get pissed off if you get my face wrong, i'll start a fuckin' riot on your island."
your shoulder shake with a giggle. then, with a sigh, you finally look up at him. katsuki hates how quickly his heart beats, how quickly he feels nearly cornered again. how thrilling it all feels. you tilt your head and he stares back, challenging, raising a brow.
katsuki doesnt know how long he sits there letting you look at him, but he nows he won't to stop you for however long you feel like standing here playing this game. he can't have you know that thought, so he speaks again, sarcastically.
"takin' your sweet time, huh ?"
your nose scrunches up and you playfully frown at him, tutting. "my island is on the line here. can't make any mistakes," you tease.
"besides i wanna...get you right. you've got a lot of details."
"m'pretty sure human faces should have a lot of details."
you rolls your eyes, but they dont stray far. he doesn't want them to."it's different right now..." you whisper.
"different..?" he utters just as quietly. he leans in slowly, so close now he can see your lashes flutter in surprise. yet, you don't move.
"yeah, you're...different," your eyes flick down to his lips before locking with his again. "in a good way."
katsuki gulps, his eyes flutter shut before he blinks then back open, you follow the movement with utmost focus.
it makes him dizzy, but you won't look away, and neither will he. he definitely doesn't plan on breaking first but he'll admit you're a worthy opponent. he can't tell if the way your eyes dart across his face means you're still analysing him or if this was something completely differnt now.
who was he kidding...whatever it was, so long as it was you he couldn't find it in himself to complain. or tell you to stop. because the truth is that he doesn't want to either when he thinks to lean forward again. just a little more--
"oh ! hiya, yn ! and the explosion guy !"
just as quickly as it happened the moment's over. a small shriek slips past your lips, katsuki's just quick enough to miss you almost headbutting him. your head whips around dumbly searching for the source of your interruption. you relax when you realise that metal freak finally appeared. just as quickly as you'd been batting your eyelashes at him your face hardens, your shoulders square up at attention.
"a-ah, tetsu ! c'mere, i need your face !"
"huh ?!"
katsuki wonders if there's a way to kill people in your game.
taglist(if your name is thick i couldnt tag you :< ). @napbatata @andysdrafts @queenpiranhadon @jastoo46 @cecelia77 @katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba @moonshuul @erenstitanweave @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam @aspiringwriter1111 @sugurusmoon @redvelvetstan1 @niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia @qyuin @bakugouswaif @3thr3al @mimimikamiks @eternallyshifting @frosted-flakes @vnstennis @dragonictales @kab-oo-m @blueemochii @theblackfandomtraveler @raeyas-ghost @usagi-kb-kc
୧ ‧₊˚ 𝐂𝐄𝐎 𝓖.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 and his pretty secretary... or fiancé..? ⋅ ✰
everyone thinks gojo satoru, heir to japan’s largest corporation, is impossible to tie down. Cold, arrogant, and rumored to have a different woman on his arm every week. so when he suddenly announces that his overworked secretary is actually his fiancée, the entire company is left stunned.
art by yunonoai. i recreated the purple divider above this. please tag me if u use it ♡ other dividers by cheriisoda and pixopix
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who treats the entire office like his personal kingdom. People straighten up the second they hear his shoes clicking down the hallway, but somehow he always seems especially irritating with you. He drops folders onto your desk with a lazy, “Need this done before lunch,” then disappears before you can argue.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who is annoyingly perfect at his job. Cold, efficient, untouchable. Even when you’re furious at him, you can’t deny he’s good at what he does, which only makes your resentment worse because he clearly knows it too.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose office smells expensive. Crisp cologne, coffee, and the faint scent of whatever luxury detergent rich people use. You hate that you associate the smell with long nights spent working overtime because of him.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who doesn’t flirt with you at first. That’s the problem. He flirts with everyone else. Receptionists giggle when he walks by, executives’ daughters practically throw themselves at him during company dinners, and gossip spreads about whatever model or actress was spotted leaving his penthouse that week.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who makes you stay late constantly, then has the nerve to look confused when you snap at him one night and tell him you actually have a life outside this company.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who starts unconsciously relying on you for everything. His coffee order. His schedule. Which tie matches which suit. He’ll bark, “Where’s my blue file?” across the office before remembering other employees exist.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose grandfather absolutely adores you because you’re the only employee who doesn’t kiss his grandson’s ass. The old man laughs every single time you glare at Gojo during meetings.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who accidentally blurts out that you’re his fiancée during a family dinner because he panics after hearing the words arranged marriage for the tenth time that night.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who immediately turns to you afterward like you’re the unreasonable one for looking horrified.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who says, “Just play along for a little while,” as if he didn’t just ruin your entire life in front of a room full of billionaires.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose family becomes obsessed with you overnight. Suddenly flowers are arriving at your desk. His grandmother wants your ring size. His grandfather keeps asking when the wedding is.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who offers you an absurd amount of money to keep pretending to be engaged to him, and gets offended when you tell him he’s insufferable enough that no amount of money feels worth it.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who starts acting weirdly protective once the fake engagement begins. If another executive talks down to you during meetings, Gojo cuts them off with an icy smile that makes the entire room tense.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who insists on driving you home after late nights because “my fiancée taking the subway at midnight looks bad for me.”
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who absolutely cannot act normal during fake couple moments. He’s smooth with everyone else, but with you there’s this strange stiffness to him sometimes, like he’s overthinking every little thing.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who stares at you for half a second too long the first time you fix his tie before an event. His ears go slightly pink, and he immediately gets mean afterward to compensate.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who learns your habits embarrassingly quickly. He knows exactly how you take your coffee, which snacks disappear first from the office vending machine, and when you’re about to get a stress headache before you even say anything.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who keeps accidentally slipping into domestic behavior. Holding doors open for you automatically. Saving you a seat during meetings. Texting you when he gets home after business trips without realizing how boyfriend-ish it sounds.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who gets irrationally annoyed whenever someone calls you by your last name instead of “Mrs. Gojo” during fake engagement events.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who has a massive penthouse that somehow still feels lonely. The first time you go there for contract-related fake dating reasons, you realize how empty it actually is despite all the expensive furniture.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who secretly likes when you yell at him because everyone else is too intimidated to do it. You call him an arrogant asshole to his face and he just stares at you with this weirdly entertained look.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who is horrible at receiving care. If he gets sick from overworking, he insists he’s fine while looking seconds away from collapsing at his desk.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who starts smiling more around the office after the fake engagement begins, and everyone notices immediately. Unfortunately for you, this leads to endless teasing from coworkers asking if you’ve “finally tamed” him.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who’s terrifyingly good at physical affection in public. His arm around your waist feels natural. His thumb rubbing circles against your hand during family dinners feels natural. Which is a problem, because none of it should feel real.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who has absolutely zero actual relationship experience despite his reputation. You assume he’s some experienced playboy because of rumors and tabloid gossip, meanwhile he’s internally fighting for his life every time you get too close to him.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who one day realizes he’s started thinking of you as his real fiancée long before either of you have actually talked about feelings.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who shows up one morning and finds you asleep at your desk because you stayed up helping your parents with the family restaurant/store/accounting stuff the night before.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose fridge contains imported water, expensive champagne, and literally nothing else meanwhile your family’s fridge is packed with leftovers, labeled containers, and six different sauces in reused jars.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who cannot comprehend why you refuse to let him buy you expensive things. The first time he casually hands you a designer bag because “you looked at it too long,” you nearly throw it back at his head.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who gets dragged to your neighborhood for the first time and looks hilariously out of place in his luxury suit while old aunties openly gossip about him from across the street.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who’s painfully aware your parents don’t trust him at first. To them he’s just another cold rich man who probably sees their daughter as disposable.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who slowly starts looking forward to dinners at your house because it’s the first time in years someone’s made him feel like part of a family instead of a business asset.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who slowly starts looking forward to dinners at your house because it’s the first time in years someone’s made him feel like part of a family instead of a business asset.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who nearly malfunctions the first time your mom fusses over him and packs him leftovers to take home.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who has no idea how normal people function. You once mention waiting for payday before buying something and he genuinely pauses because the concept has literally never applied to him before.
5 times sukuna was heavily yearning + 1 time you finally noticed.
oblivious, lonely reader who’s used to doing things alone x downbad!sukuna. jealous!sukuna. gn!reader. reader wears glasses. uncle!sukuna. sukuna calls reader angel. he’s so down bad bro. ooc sukuna as usual. mentions of nsfw contents.
— ☆ —
1. movie nights.
you had a specific, detailed, high maintenance routine for watching movies. you had slowly perfected the process— a mental to do list popping up every time a new movie dropped that you needed to watch.
first, you needed to be in your designated ‘movie night pajamas’, the most comfortable you owned. your favorite blanket had to be there, along with your favorite pillow for support. you liked watching in your home more than cinemas, because you disliked the idea of not being able to pause the movie for whatever reason. who decided to make bathroom breaks that short, anyways?
for snacks, chips poured into your favorite bowl, your favorite niche flavor. a chocolate bar sat beside it just incase the movie got intense enough for you to crave it. your favorite drink was set beside them in a thermal cup, allowing you to drink it as slow as possible without it melting too quickly.
your phone had to be on dnd, blocking out every notification. the room had to be cold, and you avoided any distractions because pausing the movie on piracy websites meant three minutes of closing ads to turn it back on.
tonight, everything was perfect.
you were perfectly wrapped in your blanket, eyes wide as it watched the screen perfectly, chips tasting perfect, drink perfected, everything absolutely perfect—
bzzz.
you immediately groaned. who could possibly be showing up? you hadn’t ordered food. no one was invited over. it was late. what could possibly be urgent enough to prompt someone to ruin your little routine?
you paused the movie (which took three minutes of pressing ‘x’ on ads urging you to ‘text hot, single ladies in your area’, and ‘ai bots who can make you cum in three minutes!’), pushed the blanket off, and pulled the door open with a soft pout you didn’t even register, just to pause when you saw sukuna standing there, eyebrows furrowed, frowning.
you and sukuna weren’t that close, really. you were in the same friend group, but you always felt nervous around him. he was intimidating, scary, too cool for you. he always stared at you blankly, and you decided he was judging you for… everything. you were awkward, nervous, a little odd.
so, him showing up to your home at midnight was a little… nerve-wracking. his red eyes slowly scanned your comfortable, worn out pajamas, messy hair, tiny pout that faded as your eyes widened, before he blinked blankly. “sorry for showing up unannounced.”
he didn’t sound apologetic. at all. his tone was monotonous, almost unamused.
“can i come in?”
you slowly blinked, before realizing how dumb you must look. you grimaced internally, stepping aside, letting him in. immediately, his eyes landed on your little set up, and he arched an eyebrow. “movie night, huh? watching part two of your little movie series?”
“how did you know?” you mumbled, genuinely confused. much to your surprise, his lips twitched up in something that looked like admiration, amused, and it was the closest you ever got to see him smile.
holy fuck, he was so gorgeous it felt unfair. now that you were actually focusing on the man towering over you, dressed in a black shirt and gray sweatpants, tanned skin peaking from under his clothes, muscles on view—
“it’s your favorite series, and it just dropped. i can recognize the sketchy ass website because you hate netflix. you have your little movie night routine, pajamas, chips, and drink.” he murmured casually, nonchalantly, as if it was normal that the guy you thought disliked you knew this much about you. “i listen, you know.”
your jaw was slack, eyes wide. he only snorted, arching an eyebrow. “don’t tell me fucking gojo was right and you really think i hate you.”
you paused. “well…”
“are you serious?” sukuna scoffed. “you’re my fucking favorite in the group, dumbass.”
“what?” you mumbled back, more confused. “you always glare at me. you never talk to me. i was starting to think you didn’t even know my last name.”
he stared at you, almost as if you were insane, then sighed. “you really are oblivious, huh?”
“hey—“
he shook his head, still looking mildly amused. “here’s the notes suguru said he would drop by to give you and forgot. i know you like studying early.”
“oh. you didn’t have to—“
“i wanted to.” he immediately stated, face serious. “‘ll leave you to it, can’t have someone ruining your perfect night. goodnight.”
with that, he was out, leaving you even more flabbergasted.
what. the. fuck.
2. hangouts.
you were still getting used to the idea that sukuna told you that not only did he not hate you, but that you were his favorite in the group. to you, the idea was unbelievable. flabbergasting. maybe even a little more scarier than being hated by him for some reason, but you managed pretty well.
at least you were more comfortable hanging out with your group now.
however, you had a tiny little habit. you hated the coffee at the place your friends loved, so often, you just walked away to the place next to it to buy your own coffee. it provided you a break, making the little pit of your stomach that grows when having to be around people, even your best friends, for too long reset, and you just get a chance to catch your breath.
today wasn’t different. in the middle of the hangout, you grabbed your wallet and slipped out, enjoying the tiny walk in fresh air before you stepped into your favorite cafe.
the familiar barista immediately lit up at the sight of you, boredom fading from his face. he was your age, friendly with a cute grin that grew whenever you two chatted— something that made you feel at ease when ordering.
“my favorite customer,” he immediately greeted, grinning. the bell at the door chimed, and you both didn’t pay any mind to it. “i wonder what you will order this time.”
you snorted. you both knew you ordered the exact same thing every single time. “yeah, i wonder too.”
he chuckled, eyes flickering to the screen. you could feel a figure stopping behind you. “well, you know your total.”
you hummed, about to pay, when the familiar scent of sukuna’s signature perfume finally registered in your mind as he moved to step beside you, eyes narrowed, jaw slowly twitching. “make it two.”
you slowly glanced up. the barista looked up in surprise, before he nodded calmly. “of course.”
before you could register it, sukuna’s card was pressing against the machine, paying for you both. your jaw went slack for the second time this week, flabbergasted once more, but sukuna was already pulling you out of line so that the people behind you could pay.
and, more unfazed that he should be by his own actions, he casually held out the receipt. “here. you take the code and collect points on their app, right?”
“…how the fuck do you even know that?” you mumbled, utterly confused. “why are you here? how did you find me— did you even know what you ordered—“
“easy there, angel.” he murmured, calm. “you always carry the receipt and i see you type something from it on your phone often. ‘m here because the coffee in the other shop is ass. you always come here, so i figured i would try my coffee with you. i know what i ordered because i know your order.”
you openly gaped at him. he only reached over, grabbing both drinks, arching an eyebrow. “are you gonna gape at me forever or drink this sweet shit?”
“…did you just call me angel?”
his amusement immediately faded, ears turning red as he shoved your drink your way, looking away. “absolutely not. hallucinations. let’s go.”
that was what he chooses to deny? not that he knew your movie night in details? that he knew your exact drink? that he knew you secretly collected points from your favorite coffee shop?
you let out a tiny chuckle, amused, following behind him. that somehow managed to make his ears even more red, a scowl pulling on his pretty lips.
fuck. he was gorgeous, and adorable.
how horrible for you.
3. aquarium.
you laid face-down on shoko’s bed, face showed between the pillows, eyes shut in pure horror. “‘m so screwed.”
she sighed for the nth time from where she sat on the ground, studying. “you quite literally could not be more not screwed.”
“i have a crush on him, shoko. i never have crushes. and now i have one, on fucking sukuna. the guy once punched a guy for breathing ‘his’ air. he fucking hates people. i am so utterly fucked. he will kill me.”
she glanced up, as if she knew something you didn’t. “he won’t kill you. kiss you? maybe.”
“stop being delusional.” you mumbled, voice muffled as you buried your face into the sand further. “‘m so fucked.”
she sighed. “you’re delusional too if you don’t realize what’s happening. anyways, isn’t it the twenty seventh? your monthly aquarium night?”
you jumped up, gasping. “it is! fuck!” you quickly grabbed your phone to check the time, before opening the aquarium’s instagram page just in case there were any updates.
and, unfortunately, right there on their instagram story, posted twelve hours ago, was a simple statement.
‘couples only day!’
“oh, fuck my fucking life.” you mumbled, eyes on the story, shoulders drooping. “shoko, be my aquarium date.”
“couples only, huh? if only these weren’t the conditions,” she mused, almost flirty, before tilting her head.
“yes.”
“ask sukuna to go with you.”
you blinked once, twice, before pulling up your phone, nodding, serious. “good idea. ‘m asking gojo or geto.”
“that is quite literally not what i said.”
“you’re a genius.”
you sent off a quick text to geto and gojo, jumping off her bed to head to your own apartment to get ready. after dressing up all cute for the sake of your loved marine animals, you glanced down at your phone, where a vague text from gojo said he couldn’t, followed by maybe three million crying emojis (which was maybe because he had begged before to accompany you said no. aquariums were a single, you-only trip), and geto sent back a simple ‘he’s almost there’, and a thumbs up.
what kind of reply was that? you frowned, sending five questions marks, about to ask who the fuck ‘he’ was, when your doorbell rings.
you pulled the door open, and freeze when your eyes landed on the one and only sukuna. he glanced at you, eyes blank, and nodded once. “let’s go.”
“…where?”
he raised an eyebrow. “the aquarium. date night. let’s go.”
“…are you sure?” you immediately mumbled, voice uncharacteristically low. “‘m, uh, kind of enthusiastic about this. nerdy. geeky. um, annoying.”
his lips twitched up into an endeared smile that he immediately pushed back. “i know what ‘m getting into. let’s go.”
you grabbed your jacket, eyebrows furrowing. “suguru could have just said he couldn’t come. i’m sorry he sent you instead.”
“oh, he could come.” sukuna stated blankly, stepping into the elevator behind you. you glanced up at him, confused, and he stared back blankly, as if waiting for you to collect dots you didn’t even see. he only sighed after a few minutes, shaking his head. “this is both cute and infuriating. so, which stupid creature is your favorite?”
you expected a night with sukuna to be awkward. tense. uncomfortable. a night where you had to hold back so you don’t become labeled as talkative, or annoying, or too much.
you didn’t expect for him to be a good listener. nodding at whatever you said, asking questions at first to keep you talking until you were comfortable rambling. you didn’t expect him to hold your things so you could comfortably get closer to the glass, or stay longer at your favorite animals, or ask you about ones that seemed interesting, his eyes soft and lips twitching upwards just the slightest. you didn’t expect him to disappear at one point and come back with a few limited-edition items from the small gift shop either, dumping them in your arms wordlessly as you two were walking out.
“thank you for being my fake date for the night, kuna.” you mumbled as he was dropping you off, sleepy, eyes soft and voice slurred. he paused at your words, lips twitching into a frown before he eyed how sleepy you were and only sighed.
“of course, angel.” he muttered, reaching over and nonchalantly pressing a kiss to your forehead before he turned around, walking away. “…sleep well, goodnight.”
gaping at him seeming like a new routine, except this time, your sleepy eyes were set on his back as he left, almost getting distracted by his muscles showing through the fabric. oh, you were so, utterly fucked.
4. the beach.
you sat quietly on the sand, wrapped tightly in a towel, eyes ahead as you watched gojo, geto and shoko shoving each other in the water. choso was on a towel beside you, deeply asleep and snoring. toji was playing around with megumi and nobara and yuji, who was yapping about how his uncle dropped him off and disappeared. everyone was enjoying themselves.
you were freezing.
you had gotten there earlier, having known they would all show up too late. you liked swimming alone with no eyes on you, so with too much sunscreen, you stayed in the water under the sun in what you knew was the perfect time for you. by the time everyone else arrived, you were already drying in the shade.
oh, how you wished you had a dry towel—
a dry towel dropped into your lap before the thought even finished. you froze, glancing up at the sky, before immediately closing your eyes again and wishing for a million dollars just in case.
“don’t stare at the fucking sun.”
ah. your genie.
you peaked through your lashes at sukuna, who glared at you, a hand going to shade your eyes from the sun. he was dry, holding a small bag which you assumed was for his wallet and phone and car keys and towel, the sun kissing every spot on his perfect body, as if purposely teasing you.
fuck. how could someone be so pretty?
he sighed, pulling a cap out of the bag. he pushed it on top of your damp hair, shading your face, and slumped beside you. “switch towels. mine is dry.”
“hi.” you mumbled dumbly, blinking a few times to snap yourself from the daze seeing his beautiful red eyes in the sun put you through. his lips twitched, face softening, and he only pulled the cap down further. you finally remembered how to think. “don’t you need your towel dry?”
“‘m not going into the water this late.” he stated. his eyes flickered to choso asleep, and he rolled his eyes, standing back up. you watched shamelessly as he effortlessly pulled the heavy umbrella so it was covering the sun kissed stoner, sighing, voice lower. “that dumbass.”
“i spray him with sunscreen every two hours. flipped him once.” you mused, taking the chance of sukuna being distracted to switch towels, sighing in relief once the warm, dry, soft towel wrapped around you. “thank you, kuna.”
“don’t mention it.” he grunted, then frowned once he registered your words, “you rub sunscreen on him?”
“oh, no, it’s a spray.” you hummed, pulling it out. “isn’t it cool?”
he glanced at the spray bottle, shoulders slowly relaxing. “mhm. it is. can you spray me?”
you nodded, moving to stand up, immediately stumbling in the towel. firm fingers immediately steadied you, and you deeply hoped he couldn’t feel the warmth radiating off you from being flustered as he slowly let go.
you slowly sprayed him, the sunscreen leaving a shiny coat that made him look even more beautiful. after making sure every part of him was covered, you slowly sat back down. “try to rub it to make sure it’s even.”
he hummed, eyes shut, slowly spreading it out, spreading it out on his tan skin.
what a fucking sight, really. he was so, unbelievably gorgeous. you were so fucked.
“…you went early, huh?”
“…yeah.” you mumbled, eyes still on him, hoping he keeps his eyes closed.
“tell me next time. ‘ll go with you.” he sighed. “these idiots always come when it’s already too cold.”
you nodded slowly as he finally finished, slumping next to you on the little beach mat gojo had gotten, so close that his thigh was pretty to your covered figure. he frowned. “your lips are pale. still cold?”
you grimaced. “‘ll be okay. thank you for the towel—“
he sighed, an arm wrapping around your shoulder before he was pulling you towards him. you missed the way his body relaxed, lips twitching into a repressed grin, the face of a man finally achieving one of his long lost goals.
holy fuck. you were pressed to his side, his body oozing warmth. he smelled great, and you could feel his muscles every time he shifted. as you stared ahead, trying to pretend like you weren’t malfunctioning, your eyes landed on shoko, gojo and geto staring back at you guys from the water, jaws slack.
well. at least it wasn’t you this time.
5. studying.
as much as it seemed otherwise, studying with gojo actually helped you. you both kept each other in check— you stopped him whenever he started yapping, and he distracted you whenever you were spiraling. you both were a team when studying— having been one since the first semester, when you both met.
during breaks, however, was when you really liked studying with gojo. you both sat with thirteen expensive pastries in front of you, gojo’s treat, and he grinned excitedly. “oh, this will be so good. you go first.”
“you don’t have to tell me twice.” you mumbled, picking one up. you immediately moaned in delight, holding the rest to gojo, who reached over and took the rest from between your fingers. “fuck. this is so good.”
gojo let out an even louder moan. you both ignored the disgusted glares from the people around you, happily chewing. “oh, these are fucking godsent. thank you for being my taste buddy.”
“thank you,” you mumbled, grabbing another one. “you’re the one spoiling me with these. you’re, like, my dream man right now.”
gojo let out a loud laugh, before pausing, shivering in horror at whatever he imagined. “do not let sukuna hear you saying that. he’ll have my head.”
“why would he have your head for that?” you mumbled, mouthful, and distracted by the heavenly taste of these. you weren’t even a fan of pasteries, but these were on another level. you tried another, and immediately groaned. “fuck. try this one.”
you immediately extended your hand out to gojo. he, as usual, ate half of it off your fingers instead, and dramatically melted in his seat. “ten out of ten. perfect. stunning. i will marry whoever made these.” he swallowed, and quickly ate the rest off your fingers to. “and he will because he’s, like, in love with you.”
“you flipping liar.” you mumbled, unamused with the obvious fake news. “he doesn’t. he’s just a good friend.”
“he’s not a good friend,” gojo snorted. “he almost shoved my head into the toilet bowl yesterday because he was bored. he likes you.”
you did not believe him the slightest. “uh-huh. wanna try the red one?”
“yes, please.”
later that night, you were curled up in bed— going over everything you had studied earlier to lock the information into your mind. the groupchat was blowing up after choso was caught kissing someone (you already knew the news. choso blurted about his ‘secret’ crush to you before when he was high, and forgot.) and you just shot back a sticker laughing, said you were studying and you needed more caffeine to deal with this, and shut your phone off completely.
you really needed caffeine.
everytime you shut your eyes, all you can see is a cold, cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite shop. the condensation running down, the inviting taste, everything—
fuck. you needed one so bad. you frowned, turning your phone on to glance at the time, and paused when a notification stood out from between the ones on the groupchat.
sukuna: pick u up for coffee in five?
you stared at the message, then slowly glanced down at the sweatpants and oversized hoodie you were in, your hair messy, broken glasses on because you were too lazy to get these specific ones fixed and you lost the other, before sighing. you needed caffeine too bad to worry about how you looked in front of him right now.
you: please :c
a car honked downstairs a few minutes. you quickly grabbed your wallet and your half-dead phone, rushing downstairs, grabbing an oversized jacket on the way so you could tug it on top of your thick hoodie, grimacing at how much of a mess you looked. you slid into the passenger seat, and sukuna only stared at you, eyes slowly taking in your appearance, lips softly pulling up.
“don’t say anything.” you immediately mumbled. his smirk widened, but he didn’t speak, immediately resuming to drive, eyes ahead. “‘m so sleepy.”
“uh-huh. let’s get some caffeine in you.” he murmured, turning more serious. “don’t overwork yourself tonight. did you have dinner?”
you nodded, ignoring how your heart felt like it was twirling in your chest. “i did. ate and drank and slept well.”
he hummed. “good.”
in the coffee shop, he got the same as you, paying despite your complaints. once the drinks were out, he grabbed both, wrapping yours in tissues to keep your fingers from being cold before handing it over, humming.
you were looking over notes in your phone, too tired to register his actions. you only quietly took the cup, immediately sipping, shoulders slowly rolling down, tense muscles relaxing. “thank you, kuna.”
he clicked his tongue. “don’t mention it.”
in the car, you focused on sipping the coffee, and he cleared his throat. “gojo said you two were on a study date this morning. pastries and shit. said you called him your dream man.”
you snorted. sukuna glanced over, utterly unamused, almost pouting. “i love gojo.”
his lips immediately formed a scowl. “you love him?”
“not like that,” you snorted. “he’s just… he was the first person who was nice to me in university, you know. the first person who made sure i never felt like a burden. he means a lot to me, platonically.”
he was silent for a while, then nodded, pulling up in front of your building. “good. you deserve to never feel like a burden. you… mean a lot to me.”
was he trying to kill you? you immediately shuffled out, heart beating like it was trying to escape your chest, cheeks burning. “you mean a lot to me too, kuna. um, goodnight. thank you for picking me up.”
“don’t mention it, angel.”
+1.
against your will, you were dragged to a party.
you would have been enthusiastic, really, if finals hadn’t just ended— leaving you too sleep deprived that you couldn’t even walk straight. gojo had came over to force you out and picked your outfit out for you, keeping in mind your pleads for it to be something warm, and you ended up in the passenger seat of his car, asleep soundly, vaguely aware of his whining about you needing to be awake as he drove you there.
you could only remember little snippets between your tiny naps, really.
gojo having his arm around you as he dragged you in.
you slumping down beside choso, immediately falling asleep on his shoulder.
sukuna crouching down in front of you, concerned, eyes worried.
sukuna covering you with a blanket.
sukuna sitting beside you, pulling your head into his shoulder instead.
geto replacing choso. you shifting, head falling into his shoulder because he was warmer.
sukuna immediately pulling you back towards him, an arm falling around your waist to keep you close, bickering with geto.
after that, you drifted into deep sleep— the kind that only came after a week straight of pulling all nighters. and, when you woke up again, you were wrapped in a blanket, on the roof, on a tiny couch with your head on sukuna’s lap and a cigarette between his lips.
the second he registered you awake, he pushed the cigarette into the ashtray, eyes soft, fingers on your shoulders to help you sit up. “you okay, angel?”
“mhm. sleepy.” you mumbled, blinking slowly, still half asleep. you yawned, rubbing your eyes. “thank you for watching over me, kuna. you’re, like, my angel.”
“…don’t mention it.” he whispered— although, it sounded more like a pained whimper. “i… yeah. don’t mention it.”
it was silent for a few minutes. you both stared up at the sky, lost in thought, before sukuna cleared his throat.
“…the stars are pretty.”
“mhm.”
he paused, before speaking again. his voice was low, soft, but it was laced with quiet frustration that you could tell wasn’t pointed at you. “we’re, uh, done with the semester.”
“…mhm.”
he clicked his tongue, and sat up, like he’s restarting. “…we’re good friends.”
“we are.” you mumbled, still dazed from your delicious, needed nap. he let out a small groan, face buried into his palm.
“fuck.”
“…kuna?” you murmured, voice soft, sleepy. his eyes finally flickered up, frustrated and almost disappointed in himself, and you only gave him a small, sleepy smile. “i like you too.”
and finally, it was his turn for his jaw to go slack, eyes widening, before he turned to you quickly. “you’re not fucking with me, right? you like me?”
you nodded, sleepy, but focused. “i like you.”
he didn’t hesitate before dropping to his knees in front of you, eyes soft and almost pathetic. “say that again. please.”
“i like you, kuna.” you repeated, quieter, softer, more serious.
he let his head drop, face pressed against the blanket covering your thighs briefly, voice muffled when he spoke. “…you have no idea how many years i have been dying to hear this, angel. fuck.” when he lifted his head back up, his red eyes were almost glossy. “‘m marrying the fuck out of you one day.”
that managed a sleepy laugh out of you. “take me on a date first, at least. we haven’t even kissed yet.”
his eyes lit up at the mere thought— before you watched him visibly holding himself back, trying to appear more relaxed, probably to not scare you off, despite his reddening ears at the idea. “right. dates. i will date you so fucking good, i promise, you will never think of anyone but me again. not even that stupid barista who clearly wants you so bad. only me.” he nodded, serious, scowling, before his eyes softened again. “best dates of your life. where do you want to go? dinner? coffee? aquarium? your little movie night routine at my place? do you want me to make it a surprise? i will be the best boyfriend— wait, fuck, not that yet—“
you reached over, softly pressing your lips to his,
he froze, eyes probably wide, then immediately melted the second your fingers gently cupped his face to pull him closer, letting out a soft, little sound into the kiss that had his face flushing further.
once you pulled away, your eyes met his dazed ones, and he slowly sucked in a deep breath. “….fuck.”
“dinner sounds good.” you whispered back, thumb brushing over his bottom lip, and he shut his eyes, as if it took visible effort not to groan. “next week?”
“you think ‘ll make it to next week?” he let out a sharp laugh. “you have me fucking kneeling for you, angel. tomorrow. 8. please.”
“okay.” you murmured, voice soft. “now, come back up, i will want to continue napping on you.”
