Gojo had already returned to his usual state of careless satisfaction, stretched across the sheets with one arm tucked beneath his head, his breathing evening out as though the last hour had been nothing more significant than an interruption to his evening. He looked comfortable. He always did. There was something almost infuriating about how easily he could slip back into himself afterward, how quickly the intensity between them dissolved into the familiar shape of friendship.
The sheets were still warm beneath you, twisted into careless folds around your legs, carrying the heat of the room in their creases. The dim light from the bedside lamp caught in the loose strands of his white hair, turning them almost silver against the pillow, while the faint scent of his cologne hung in the air between you. You could still feel the ghost of his touch everywhere, a residual warmth beneath your skin that seemed reluctant to disappear even as the rest of the room slowly returned to normal.
You were still staring at the ceiling when he turned his head toward you.
“You know,” he murmured, voice roughened, “I think purple might be my new favourite colour.”
Your mouth twitched.
He caught it immediately.
“There,” he said, pleased with himself. “I knew I could get a smile out of you.”
You laughed because it was easier than explaining why the sound felt strange in your own throat.
His gaze wandered lazily over you, lingering just long enough to make his meaning obvious. “Seriously, though. That was a pretty good choice.”
The purple lace was still somewhere beneath the sheets, half-hidden in the disarray you'd made of them, and you found yourself looking at it with a peculiar sense of embarrassment. Three weeks ago, you'd bought it with him in mind. You had imagined his reaction, imagined that little pause he always made when something caught him unexpectedly, the slow grin that would follow when he realized you'd deliberately chosen something because you knew he'd like it. You had wanted his attention. You had wanted him to look at you and know that you'd wanted him to look.
Now the memory seemed almost childish.
“Glad you approve,” you murmured.
“I more than approve.”
He laughed softly, entirely at ease, and reached toward you in the absentminded way he sometimes did, fingertips brushing your side as though touching you were as natural as breathing. Ordinarily you would have leaned into him. You would have stayed there, talking about nothing until the hour became unreasonable, perhaps stealing his shirt and pretending you hadn't when he complained about it the next morning.
You could remember how those nights used to feel with a clarity that was almost cruel. The low amber light spilling across his bedroom floor. The curtains stirring faintly whenever the window was cracked open. The tangled sheets, the discarded clothes, the warmth of his body still pressed close to yours while the city outside continued on without either of you. There had always been something intoxicating about those hours after everything had gone quiet, the two of you reduced to nothing more complicated than warmth and breath and the lazy rhythm of conversation.
Sometimes Gojo would pull you against his chest without even seeming to realize he was doing it. You would lie there with your cheek resting against him, listening to the steady beat beneath your ear while his fingers wandered absently through your hair. His voice would lose some of its usual brightness in those hours, becoming softer and lower as he talked about missions, about people you barely knew, about whatever ridiculous thought happened to cross his mind. You had loved those moments more than you ever admitted.
Perhaps that was what had confused you.
Instead, you reached for your clothes.
The movement made his hand fall away.
“Leaving?”
“Yeah.”
He sounded surprised, though only mildly. “Already?”
You pulled your shirt over your head and smoothed the fabric down.
“I have things to do.”
It was a perfectly ordinary answer. There was nothing in it he could have objected to, and you made sure there was nothing in your voice for him to question. That was the strange thing about disappointment once it had settled deeply enough: it stopped demanding to be spoken. It became quieter than anger, more private than sadness. You had no desire to accuse him of anything. You weren't even certain he had done something wrong.
You were simply beginning to understand that the arrangement had been asking you to be someone you no longer wanted to be.
Gojo watched you dress for a moment, then dropped his head back against the pillow.
“You staying tomorrow?”
You glanced at him.
“Maybe.”
“That's suspiciously vague.”
You smiled faintly. “You'll survive.”
“Cruel.”
He sounded amused.
You bent to retrieve your bag.
“Text me when you get home.”
You paused.
It was such a small thing. So ordinary. Something he'd said dozens of times before.
“Okay.”
You left before he could say anything else.
The corridor outside his apartment felt colder than it should have. You could still smell him on your clothes, still feel the warmth of the room clinging stubbornly to your skin, and for a moment you stood there with your hand around the strap of your bag, wondering why leaving had suddenly begun to feel so much easier than staying.
For a while, Gojo didn't think about it.
Why would he?
You had never been particularly difficult to understand. You wanted him, he wanted you, and somewhere along the way the two of you had found an arrangement that required very little discussion. There were no expectations attached to it, no promises either of you had made foolish enough to regret. You came over when you wanted to. He called when he wanted you. Sometimes you stayed until morning. Sometimes you left before either of you had properly fallen asleep. It worked precisely because neither of you asked it to become anything else.
So when his message appeared on your phone the following evening—
you busy?
—you stared at it for nearly an hour before answering.
kinda
His response arrived almost immediately.
come over
You set your phone face-down.
That was the first time he'd had to wait for you.
There would be others.
At first, Gojo treated the change as coincidence. You were busy. You were tired. You had things going on. He teased you about becoming difficult, complained that you were abandoning him, sent increasingly ridiculous messages whenever you took too long to answer. You played along when you had the energy for it, but something in you had become reluctant to perform the old version of yourself for him.
You stopped dressing with him in mind.
That was perhaps the smallest change, and somehow the one he noticed most.
There had always been little things. A particular perfume. A dress he'd once complimented. The lingerie he'd discovered by accident and then spent an embarrassing amount of time pretending he hadn't been thinking about. You had enjoyed being desired by him. There had been something intoxicating in knowing exactly what would make those bright blue eyes linger.
Now you found yourself choosing clothes without considering whether he'd like them.
You didn't bother wondering what he would think.
You simply got dressed.
And Gojo began to notice the absence before he understood what it meant.
He noticed that you no longer watched him from across the room to see whether he'd noticed you. He noticed that your teasing had softened into ordinary conversation. He noticed that you stopped reaching for him automatically when you sat beside him. He noticed that you left his apartment with your own clothes on instead of wandering around in one of his shirts while you waited for your coffee.
He missed the little things before he understood that he was missing them. The way your eyes used to find him the moment you walked into a room. The almost imperceptible smile that would appear whenever he caught you looking. The way you'd steal his clothes and then pretend innocence when he complained, bare feet padding across his floor while morning sunlight spilled through the curtains. There had always been a softness in you around him, something warm and unguarded that made his apartment feel less like an apartment whenever you were there.
He noticed because he was accustomed to being wanted by you.
What he didn't notice was the reason.
That was the part you kept entirely to yourself.
You had begun to feel foolish about how much you had wanted from something that had never promised to give it to you. There had been no betrayal, no cruel remark, no moment dramatic enough to point toward and say there, that's when everything changed. It had been smaller than that. A hundred conversations in which you had tried to tell him about your day and watched his attention drift. A hundred moments when he could read your body perfectly and somehow miss what you were saying with your mouth. The realization had accumulated gradually until you could no longer pretend you hadn't seen it.
He listened when you touched him.
He listened when you wanted him.
There was something humiliating about realizing that his attention seemed to deepen in proportion to how much of yourself you were willing to give him physically. As though the things you said carried more weight once your clothes were on the floor. As though the intimacy of those nights could convince him, temporarily, that there was something complicated and worth knowing beneath the surface of you.
And God, you hated that you had started to feel clever only in hindsight. All those nights when he'd looked at you with such complete concentration, when every movement seemed to matter to him, when you could feel his attention like a physical thing; you had mistaken being thoroughly wanted for being thoroughly understood.
Maybe that was why the silence afterward had begun to hurt.
Because you knew he could listen. You had felt him do it. You had felt what it was like to have all of his attention fixed on you, undivided and almost frighteningly intense.
You just couldn't seem to make him listen when there was nothing for him to want.
Everywhere else, you sometimes felt like background noise.
And once you'd noticed it, you couldn't stop noticing.
You remembered how easily he could read you in the dark. A shift of your breathing, a hand curling into his shirt, the smallest change in the way you moved, and his attention would sharpen immediately. He could spend an entire night learning every silent answer your body gave him, as though there were nothing else in the world worth hearing.
You wished, sometimes, that he would listen to you with that same patience when you were sitting across from him in daylight. You wished he would notice the hesitation before you spoke, the tiredness beneath your jokes, the way your voice changed when something actually mattered to you. You wanted him to look up from his phone and listen as though your ordinary words were worth the same attention as everything you could never bring yourself to say aloud.
So when Gojo began trying to coax you back into the old rhythm, you let him.
You smiled when he complained that you were neglecting him. You rolled your eyes when he sent you shameless invitations at impossible hours. You occasionally went over when you wanted to, and afterward you lay beside him listening to him ramble about something ridiculous while the familiar warmth of his body slowly became less comforting than it used to be.
Sometimes, lying beside him afterward, you could almost remember why you'd stayed for so long. His arm would settle around your waist, his chin would rest against your shoulder, and the room would grow quiet except for the distant noise of the city beyond his windows. You would feel the weight of him beside you and remember all the nights when that closeness had been enough to make you believe you were loved.
Then morning would come.
Sunlight would creep across the sheets. His voice would brighten again. He would reach for his phone, complain about being hungry, tease you about stealing the blankets. The spell would dissolve with the daylight, and you would be left wondering whether the tenderness of the night had ever followed him out of the bedroom.
And then, sometimes, there would be a name flashing across his screen before you even had the chance to fully sit up.
A notification. A message. Something casual, effortless.
Maybe it was the girl he had seen the day before, the one whose laughter had lingered too easily in the air between them.
Maybe it was nothing at all. It didn’t matter. It never really did.
What mattered was the way your chest tightened anyway, because there would always be something you wanted to say and never could.
A message you had rehearsed in your head a hundred times but never once let yourself type out. Words that would have sounded too soft, too honest, too revealing in the light of day when he looked at you like you were simply temporary.
And you would watch him scroll, watch his expression stay unchanged, watch him respond without hesitation, like it was nothing, like it never carried weight, like it never meant anything more than passing time.
He would never look at you the way you looked at them.
And that was the part that stayed with you long after the room had gone quiet again.
He seemed happier whenever you came.
That should have made you happy too.
Instead, you found yourself wondering how long it would take him to realize that you were no longer looking at him the way you used to.
Gojo didn't know yet.
And because he had spent so long believing he understood the boundaries between you, he kept reaching for the version of things that had existed before, certain that if he could make you laugh again, make you stay a little longer, make you look at him with that old softness in your eyes, everything would fall naturally back into place.
He didn't understand that you were already learning how to leave without making a sound.
modern au 𖧷 husband!toji fushiguro 𝔁 wife!reader 𖧷 angst oneshot!
warnings. angst, mdni. hurt NO comfort. he's been gone on a job for years. mild mentions of violence, painful reunion, megumi needs a hug. yes i cried while writing this. song inspo here and here if you want to listen along
based on this request from my send a song and a character post.
masterlist | wc: 4.8k
"did he tell you what exactly happened?"
you frown at the sight over the woman's shoulders. your son, megumi, was staring at a paper in front of him that you couldn't make out. his left eye was clearly bruised, purple-toned and swollen.
"i'm sorry, mrs. fushiguro. i only came after i heard the students make a commotion."
you hadn't heard someone call you that in forever.
"it's miss. i'm not married."
"apologies, miss fushiguro. although—i've been meaning to reach out to you about megumi's performance in class lately. he's a bright child, but i noticed he's quite distant. disengaged from lessons, antisocial during free time. i hope that's something you can talk to him about…?" his elementary teacher stares at you with the same expression you've seen since the moment you'd been put in this role. pity.
we're worried about you and the baby.
no mother should have to raise a child alone.
someone ought to step in for him, find a man worthy to be his dad.
you've heard it all before. and all of it sickened you.
no one could have convinced you that your life was going to end up this way. you had dreams prior to your twenties of a life defined by a full home of laughter and joy, a partner you could rely on and luxuries you needn't worry whether you could afford to have or not.
"… yes, well. i'll talk to him, thank you for letting me know. have a good day." your mind was elsewhere as you took your tight-lipped son out of the classroom, and the silence stretched all throughout the car ride home moreover. you snuck a couple glances into the backseat and he still held that far away look in his eyes as he stared out the rainy window.
when you entered the dimly light apartment you two shared, you set his backpack and things on the breakfast nook. megumi could tell you were gearing up to say something, so he stops in the hallway after he's pulled off his ratty red tennis shoes. you wondered when exactly he'd learned that silence; swallowing his thoughts instead of sharing them with all the graceless honesty children his age were supposed to have.
"megs honey, c'mere."
"i'm okay, mom."
you give him a softly stern look and his mouth presses into a thin line. for a second, you see the argument forming behind his eyes, but he seems to think better of it. begrudgingly, megumi pads his way back toward the kitchen and climbs onto one of the stools at the breakfast nook.
you stand in front of him.
up close, the bruise looks worse and your stomach twists.
"who hit you?"
"it doesn't matter."
"megumi."
"he got hit too."
you blink. goodness, those public school teachers really don't pay attention. "thank you for letting me know, but that's not what i asked."
his gaze drops toward the counter. the refrigerator hums behind you, rain tapping unevenly against the balcony doors. you take a slow breath through your nose before speaking again.
"your teacher said there was a fight. she didn't see what started it." you pause, studying his face. "so i'm asking you, because i'd like to know what my kid has to say first."
something in your voice makes him look up and you soften immediately. god, he was so little. sometimes you forgot.
megumi had always carried himself with an odd seriousness that made people speak to him older than he was, so much so even you were guilty of it sometimes. he'd been tying his own shoes before the other kids in his class, packing away his own belongings without being asked, checking that the front door was locked whenever you came home late from work. he never even begged for toys or new gadgets, and that should've worried you sooner.
you reach out carefully, brushing your thumb underneath the uninjured side of his face.
a cute little pout formed on his mouth. "he was being annoying, okay?"
"you punched someone because they were annoying? that doesn't sound like you."
"makoto said something stupid about you." his jaw clenches. you knew the kid's mother, a rather standoffish lady you grew up with. born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
you know that face. it's the one with a stubborn furrow between his brows, the one he gets whenever he doesn't understand why the world refuses to operate according to the rigid sense of justice that reminds you far too much of someone you once knew. your son was never the violent type, but there were a couple things that he felt deeply passionate about.
you weren't oblivious, you knew there probably were questions from classmates. why doesn't your dad ever come to school events? where did he go? is your dad dead?
children were curious, but they were also capable of being cruel without knowing the difference.
"what did he say about me?"
megumi's eyes flick toward yours before dropping again.
"he said you must be bad."
your brows knit together in confusion. "bad?"
"he said it's your fault dad left us."
the words settle heavily in the apartment. you don't find words to respond quickly enough, so he continues.
"and he said his mom said women like you can't keep men."
you had gotten good at ignoring adults. from distant relatives with loud opinions that talked behind your back, to "well-meaning" acquaintances who had looked at you like your life was an unfortunate cautionary tale instead of something you'd fought tooth and nail to build. it was unfortunate children were malleable clay that parroted what they heard.
"so i punched him, 'cus that's not true."
your gaze snaps back to your son. megumi looks almost defiant now, chin tipped slightly upward. oh, your poor baby boy.
"he shouldn't have said it."
"i agree, he shouldn't have."
his expression changes slightly, surprised by your quick support. he was sure you were getting ready to scold him. "but you still can't punch people, my love."
"why?"
"because that's not how i taught you to solve your problems."
megumi slides off the stool suddenly, frustration working across his features. "he wouldn't stop, mom!"
"then you should've told your teacher."
"she wouldn't do anything!"
"you don't know that."
"yes, i do!"
the certainty in his voice catches you off guard.
"they always say stuff, and nobody cares!"
his face crumples for half a second before he forces it away. the anger dissipates, and you can see the tears forming in his eyes. your chest tightens painfully.
"hey… hey."
you crouch down in front of him. megumi immediately looks elsewhere. you knew he hated to cry in front of you nowadays.
"look at me."
you wait until eventually, reluctantly, those watery dark eyes meet yours.
"you don't have to defend me."
"i do, you're my mom."
you shake your head. "no, baby. you don't."
he hates when you call him that now. usually you'd get an immediate grimace, some irritated insistence that he wasn't a baby anymore. this time however, he says nothing.
"like you said, i'm your mom." your hands settle gently on his shoulders. "i'm supposed to protect you, you're not supposed to spend your day worrying about protecting me." you can tell he's listening. his lower lip is still trembling despite how hard he's trying to keep it still.
"you know what matters more than what they say? what you know." your hands move to cup his tiny face. "i know who i am, and i know who you are. nobody gets to decide either of those things for us."
you pull him into your chest without a warning and megumi stiffens instinctively, embarrassed by affection even in the privacy of your apartment but you don't let go. after a few seconds, the tension leaves his shoulders and his forehead presses into the crook of your neck.
"the next time this happens, you tell me," you murmur against his hair. "if your teacher isn't listening, then i'll make her listen."
"you'll embarrass me."
you smile despite yourself. "yeah, i probably will."
"mooom!" even though he sounded irritated, a muffled laugh escapes against your shoulder. there he was. your fingers comb gently through the spiky, shaded mess of his hair. you stand up, walking towards your noisy fridge and grab a frozen bag of peas from the freezer.
"now sit back down and put this on your bruise before your eye swells shut. can't have my kid looking like rocky." he climbs onto the stool again, obliging without protest. though, a question mark appears on his face.
"who's rocky?"
you groan. "honey, you're making me feel old."
the rest of the evening passes quietly. you make dinner and megumi finishes most of it while complaining that the vegetables taste weird despite them being the exact same vegetables he'd eaten two nights ago without complaint. you let him have the argument this time. after today, you figured he deserves one meaningless victory.
by the time the rain settles down outside, the apartment has grown warm with that particular nighttime stillness you'd learned to appreciate. the television plays quietly from the living room while you wash two plates in the sink, and megumi is sprawled on the couch doing his homework until you tell him to wrap up for bed.
when he's finally changed into pajamas and climbed beneath the blankets, exhaustion has taken over your son. his bruised eye still looks awful beneath the warm light of the bedside lamp, and even though you'd checked it several times throughout the evening, you find yourself inspecting it once more as you sit beside him and gently sweep his bangs away from his forehead. megumi tolerates the attention for a few seconds before sinking deeper into his pillow with a sigh.
"mom, you've looked at it like a hundred times and it still looks the same, i don't think staring is going to make it disappear."
"i'm aware that glaring at a bruise is not medically proven treatment, thank you very much smartypants." you chide, smoothing the blanket over his chest before your expression softens again.
"megumi, honey, listen to me because i'm being completely serious right now. i know i don't always have every answer. our life isn't exactly like everybody else's, but there has never been a day where taking care of you felt like a burden i wished i could put down. you are my favorite person in this entire world. even though i don't condone what you did today… between you and me, that kid deserved it."
megumi's mouth twitches slightly. "you said i shouldn't have punched him, but you also said he deserved it... i think you're sending me mixed messages."
you let out a quiet mocked gasp and gently pinch his cheek. "i said no such thing."
"you kindaaaa did."
"i kinda-absolutely-did-not! goodness, this conversation is supposed to be about how deeply and unconditionally i love you, you little menace."
that manages to get a small laugh from him, and the sound immediately fills you with happiness. you bend down and press a long kiss against his forehead, then rest your hand against his hair as you speak more quietly. "can i get an 'i love you' for the road?"
he watches you for another moment before mumbling an "i love you". you smile and brush your thumb over his temple before standing.
"goodnight, megumi."
"goodnight, mama."
the sincerity in his voice pangs in your heart. you hadn't heard him call you mama in a good while. when you glance back, he's already curling toward the wall with the blanket tucked underneath his chin. you leave the door cracked the way he still secretly prefers and stand there for several seconds longer than necessary, watching until his breathing begins to even out.
only once you're back in the kitchen does the weight of the day settle. you feel pathetic for letting makoto's cruel comment ruin your night, even more so because you know it wasn't really the child who'd gotten beneath your skin. perhaps, part of you still worried they were right. not about megumi—never about him. but rather about yourself. you stare at the half-clean kitchen for another minute before deciding you've had enough emotionally mature mom-ing for one evening.
"fuck it," you whisper to yourself, opening the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulling down the cheap bottle of wine you saved for moments like this. you pour yourself a generous glass and carry it toward the living room. after a few bitter sips, a knock echoes from the front door. for a few seconds you wondered whether you'd imagined it due to how late it was. another rap comes a moment later, heavier and more deliberate this time.
you set the wine glass on the coffee table and glance toward the hallway by habit, checking that megumi's bedroom door remains undisturbed before approaching the entrance. nobody you knew had any business coming over at this time without calling first, and the uneasiness gathering in your stomach only worsens as you lean forward and look through the peephole. your entire body goes cold at the realization. what a sick coincidence.
there was no logical reason for toji fushiguro to be standing outside your apartment after years of silence. you unlock the door but keep the chain latched, opening it only enough to stare at him through the narrow gap. "i'm assuming there's some emergency happening, because i can't imagine another reason you would think showing up at my apartment without warning was even a remotely acceptable thing to do."
toji's gaze moves over your face before flicking toward the chain. "wow, nice to see you too."
you almost laugh at the audacity. "you don't get to feel any kind of way right now, toji. i didn't ask you to come here."
his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "if you're planning on turning this into an argument, save yourself the effort because i didn't come here to fight with you."
"unless you have something useful to say, i suggest you leave."
toji exhales through his nose, his patience already wearing thin in that familiar way that used to drive you insane. "can you open the damn door first? i don't feel like airing our personal shit where every fucking person on this floor can hear us."
you scoff in disbelief. you remember all those months passing without so much as a text message, and whatever sympathy that was threatening to surface disappears immediately.
"you gonna let me in or not?"
you stare at him for several long seconds before shutting the door in his face. there's an immediate thud against the other side.
"babe, seriously?"
"i'm taking the chain off, jackass. don't call me that."
the hallway falls quiet. you remove the chain and reopen the door, stepping aside just enough for him to enter.
"five minutes, toji. i'm serious. i've got work and megumi has school tomorrow. unlike some people, we operate with an actual schedule."
his eyes narrow slightly as he walks past you. "you always gotta throw something in there, don't you?"
"you give me plenty of material."
you close the door quietly behind him and fold your arms across your chest. there had been a time when toji's presence could consume whatever room he entered, when you knew the shape his jacket in the back of your mind and exactly where he'd kick his shoes despite you asking him a thousand times not to leave them in the walkway. now, he looks almost displaced.
his gaze drifts across the apartment and you hate yourself for noticing every place it lands. megumi's backpack is still on the breakfast nook with his homework folder peeking out, the corner of one worksheet folded where he'd erased too aggressively earlier. the frozen bag of peas sits abandoned beside the sink, already softened enough that condensation covered it. from your shared past experiences, he knew you always kept a spare bag when he came home from a bad job. toji's eyes linger there.
"something happen?"
you know better and should've lied because the last thing you needed was to give toji ammo to stay longer. alas, your honesty betrays you.
"megumi got into a fight at school." toji's attention snaps toward you so quickly that you immediately regret saying anything.
"what? our megumi?"
that jilts you. when did he believe he had any claim over your son?
you answer flatly. "he's fine."
"what do you mean he got into a fight?"
"i mean exactly what i said, toji. before you start working yourself up, i've already handled it and he's sleeping now."
his expression darkens. "just tell me what happened."
you exhale slowly and move toward the coffee table, reaching for your wine because you need something to do with your hands when you got on edge. "another boy said something, megumi punched him, the other kid hit him back. he has a little shiner, that's it."
"what did the kid say?"
you take an extended sip.
"mm, it doesn't concern you."
"stop, don't do that."
you look at him over the rim of your glass. "don't do what?"
"hide whatever caused this. obviously it fucking matters if a level-headed kid like megumi hit somebody first."
"interesting. coulda fooled me that you're the expert on my child."
the words leave your mouth before you can stop them and toji's jaw ticks. you know what strikes his nerve.
"see, there it is."
"there what is?"
"the actual reason you let me in."
you laugh humourlessly. "you think i invited you inside because i've been waiting forever for an opportunity to argue with you? trust me, toji, i've had plenty of mental arguments when you were gone and they were all more productive than this."
"then tell me what happened instead of playing games."
"i'm not playing games."
"tell me what the fucking kid said!"
you stare down into your glass. you wish, more than anything, that you didn't still possess this stupid, ugly desire for toji to hear what happened and react correctly. not violently or defensively, not with the same pride that had poisoned half your conversations while you were together. that small part of you that still loved him hard wanted him to understand and kiss away your tears and tell you it was going to be okay.
"he told megumi it was my fault you left."
toji's eyebrows pull together, and you continue before you lose your nerve.
"apparently his mother has some opinions about me, and like most people who don't know when to shut their mouth, she shared them where her son could hear. he told megumi that women like me can't keep men, and megumi punched him because he thought he had to defend me."
toji looks away, but you see it. that flash of guilt.
"that's fucked up."
you wait, but nothing else comes. your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass.
"that's it?"
his gaze returns to you. "what do you mean, that's it?"
"i don't know, i suppose i imagined there might be something more substantial. finding out your son got into his first real fight because another child was making fun of him and his mother for not having a father around means nothing, then?"
his expression twists. "don't turn it into that."
"turn it into what?"
"you know what i mean."
"actually i don't, so please explain it to me. i'm dying to know what exactly you're insinuating."
"you're making it sound like i wanted to fucking leave."
you stare at him. you don't even feel angry, just stunned.
"didn't you, though?"
toji exhales sharply, already irritated by the direction the conversation has taken. ""no, of course not. you know damn well that's not how it happened."
"that's funny, because i don't remember being given much information to work with."
his jaw shifts. "you knew what i did for a living."
"don't you dare."
"i'm not throwing it in your face, i'm saying you knew there were gonna be times i couldn't tell you everything."
"everything?" you repeat incredulously, lowering your glass. "toji, i knew you killed people for money, i think we were several miles past the point of expecting full transparency about your work." his expression tightens, but you continue before he can interrupt. "i knew what you were capable of before i ever decided to build a life with you, what it meant when you disappeared. i knew better than to ask names or know where you were going, and god knows i learned very quickly not to ask when you'd be home because half the time you couldn't answer me anyway."
toji's gaze drops.
"you'd leave for a three day job and come back after five, and we'd fight about it because i was worried sick spent those extra forty-eight hours wondering whether something had happened to you. you gave me lousy apologies and we'd move on. those were our bumps, toji. i understood because i had no other choice."
"this wasn't like those jobs, it was high risk."
you laugh quietly, but there is nothing remotely amused in it. "high risk and you took five fucking years."
you hated stating it literally because the duration of his absence felt easier to manage when you didn't give it a time. time blended together more kindly that way, reduced to birthdays and school pictures and clothes megumi outgrew rather than one enormous stretch of life in which toji simply did not exist. a blip where your husband should have been. instead, you lived life like a widow.
"i couldn't contact you, it was too dangerous."
you study his face waiting for signs of bluff, but toji isn't lying and that made it worse.
"and not knowing nearly destroyed me. you don't know how hard it was to care for megumi without knowing whether you were alive or not."
your words shut him up. you set down the glass before your hands can fail with how badly they've begun to shake. you press your lips together, but the emotion has already climbed too high in your throat to force back down.
"i didn't know whether you were somewhere choosing not to call me or whether you were lying dead in a ditch."
"i wasn't dead."
"fuck, i know that now!"
your voice jumps before you can stop it. your eyes dart toward the hallway. the anger drains from your face and toji notices.
"baby, i was trying to come back."
"i said stop calling me that. i don't care because trying didn't help me when megumi had a fever and i was so terrified i stayed awake all night to make sure he was breathing. or when i had to choose between missing work and watching him because daycare fell through even though i wasn't making rent that month."
"did you not get the money i sent you? i thought it was covering something, but—"
"what money are you talking about?"
the irritation that had been taut across his features falters. "the money i sent every month."
you stare back at him with such complete disbelief that his brows slowly upturn, and the horrible realization begins creeping across his face before you even have to answer him. "there was no money. not one cent from you showed up after you disappeared. if somebody convinced you otherwise, then congratulations on trusting the wrong person with the well-being of your family."
"that's not fucking possible. he told me it was handled."
a scoff. "congratulations, you were scammed."
toji drags a hand down his face as he turns away from you, and for once there is no immediate rebuttal, only restless movement as he paced the room. "i left enough to cover the apartment for a long time. i sent it in portions so it wouldn't look suspicious. the whole point was making sure nobody could trace anything back to you or megumi."
"well whoever you trusted clearly decided he needed it more than we did, because i spent the first year after you disappeared selling half the shit we owned just to keep us from drowning."
his head snaps back toward you. "if i'd known there was even a chance the money wasn't getting to you, i would've found another way."
"i don't care about the money, toji!"
toji goes completely still. you let out a shaky breath before continuing, an ache growing in your stomach. "i showed him pictures of you when he cried. i would tell him fairy tales about where you were, but megumi got older and smarter and knew they were pathetic excuses. he stopped asking about you."
"it fucking kills me inside that i missed everything. please, you have to give me a chance."
you blink.
"tell me what i missed. i already know saying i had reasons doesn't magically erase what happened. but he's my son and you're still my wife, and maybe that doesn't mean shit to you anymore—but it means everything to me."
his gaze made you stir still after so long, and the anger between you seems to collapse beneath the exhaustion of finally saying something neither of you had been willing to acknowledge.
"he looks like you when he smiles." your voice cracks when you say it. "every single day he gets closer to looking like your copy. there were so many nights where i'd cry myself to sleep with a picture frame of you. i don't hate you, toji, and that is part of what makes this so fucking unbearable. i needed my husband."
the confession rips out before you can reconsider it. you feel a tear roll down your cheek and finally realize you'd begun crying. he steps closer, slow enough that you could easily move away, but your heartbeat stumbles and you stay put. his hand lifts toward your face, cupping your cheek and you instinctively lean into the touch. his knuckles brush carefully beneath your eye to wipe away stray tears. you should stop him.
your shared muscle memory moves faster than good sense and when his mouth finds yours your body answers out of pure habit. your hand catches automatically against the front of his shirt, and you lean your entire body into the feeling. then reality hits. you pull back so quickly that your shoulder bumps against the edge of the wall, and the sudden nausea rising through your stomach forces you to press one hand against your mouth while the other shoves weakly against his chest.
toji moves away immediately. "shit, i shouldn't have done that."
you stare at him through watery eyes. the look on his face makes you feel worse because he doesn't appear triumphant or smug or even hopeful, only devastated that you seemed regretful.
"i'm sorry."
"you need to leave."
"i swear, i wasn't trying to push you into anything."
you wipe furiously beneath your eyes, your demand still standing. his gaze shifts briefly toward the hallway before returning to you, and the longing there is so obvious that it feels invasive even though he makes no move toward megumi's room.
"just don't let him forget about me, even if you don't tell him i was here tonight."
he pauses.
"i will always love you. to my dying breath."
your face crumples before you can stop it. "get out."
toji's expression breaks slightly, but he nods and pulls the door open without another word, leaving with a click.
you lock the door the instant it closes, your knees finally giving out. you sink onto the floor beside the entrance with one hand clamped over your mouth because the first sob leaves you far louder than you intended. you press your palms against your eyes until colors burst behind them, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet enough that megumi won't hear.
however, you don't hear the faint movement from the bedroom down the hall. megumi stands barefoot just beyond the edge of the living room, mostly hidden by the darkness stretching, with one hand curled tightly around the doorframe and the blanket he'd dragged with him gathered against his chest.
he had woken sometime around the first raised voices, disoriented enough that he'd nearly called for you before recognizing the unfamiliar man's voice coming from the living room. his father had been standing inside their apartment.
and you, his mother, was sitting on the floor beside the front door with her face buried in her hands because of him.
he doesn't approach you. instead, he watches with tears gathering silently in his own eyes before retreating toward his bedroom as carefully as he can manage, closing the door behind himself and crawling beneath the blankets without turning on the light. i hope the bruise stays, he thought to himself. i don't want to look like him.
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⋮ ⌗ wherein the puppy boy you thought hated you, was actually down bad for you. like, literally. on his knees, eating your pussy.┆
• 1.3k words ; smut ; hybrid puppy choso ; sub!cho ; swearing ; somnophilia ; pet names ; mommy kink ; praise ; oral sex (f receiving) ; mentions of rut ; fingering ; mdni !!
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he was from an underground illegal fighting ring, bred to fight other hybrids and keep the cash rolling. eventually, the owner had been caught, and things escalated from there on.
for the first few months of staying with you, choso was cautious and had his guard up around you. of course, you couldn't blame him. nonetheless, you helped him settle throughout the months, letting him adjust at his own pace.
soon enough, he was less snappy towards you, finally tolerating you— but still, cold. :(
but you're sure you can make him warm up to you even more!!
...
though you didn't mean like this...
it was already midnight, you were comfortably tucked in your bedroom, sleeping peacefully, wearing a cute babydoll nightgown with spaghetti straps and lacy hems.
until, you felt stirring in between your thighs.
you thought you were having a wet dream— wherein your cute puppy boy choso was slurping and messily eating your pussy out.
it was just a wet dream you had because you'd been fantasizing over him.
right?
but the moment you opened your eyes, your sleepy gaze first registered the mop of black hair in between your legs that had fluffy ears?
wait.
fluffy ears?
you gasped, back arching off of the mattress as a wet muscle of tongue lapped you up from your twitching hole to your hooded clit.
choso was immediately alerted, pulling away from your sopping wet pussy momentarily to look up at you with those teary, widened chocolate brown orbs of his that you always seem to get lost in with every eye contact.
his cheeks, marked with a horizontal black ink, was dusted with blush and... pussy juice.
"c-cho? what— what are you doing?" you asked, voice still raspy and soft from slumber, supporting your upper body on your elbows.
"fuck— s-so sorry mommy, couldn't— couldn't help myself— please, please please please can i continue?" he hiccuped, panting and drooling over your lapped cunt. choso was shirtless, giving you a view of his ripped upper body, and wore only his black boxers that had a prominent bulge on the crotch, half-hidden by the way his hips rutted against your sheets.
his beefy arms were wrapped around your thighs, spreading you open, flexing ever so slightly around your soft skin, while his own skin was adorned with a thin sheet of sweat, almost burning.
burning? hot? heat— a rut?!
"u-uhm, y-yeah, yeah g-go ahead cho..." you gulped, relaxing on your bed again, your nipples now pebbled and pressing against the fabric of your thin nightgown.
you were not going to pass on a chance of a lifetime.
or maybe choso liked you from the start, but just didn’t admit it.
instantly, choso's eyes lit up, "t-thank you, thank you mommy... i-i'll make you feel really good, i'll be a good boy..!" his lips wrapped over your pussy with no struggle, a choked gasp coming from your throat as his lips slid around your clitoris, his thumb pulling your hood back so he can suck on your sensitive pearl freely while his other hand rubbed sweet tight circles over your pulsing hole.
"o-oh my fu-ck," you gasped out weakly, toes curling on the sheets, your thighs itching to close shut from how good it felt, but with choso's arms around your thighs, you doubt you can.
your puppy was so fucking good it had to border on a crime!
"does it feel good mommy?" he blinked up at you, his narrowed tongue circling your nub, thumb slowly pushing inside your hole.
"mmmnggh! y-yes, it- f-fuh-feels g-good baby, keep going... be a good boy for mommy..." you mewled breathlessly, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his locks (careful not to harm his ears) and push him down on your wet pussy (to which choso didn't seem to mind), buckling your hips for more.
your room was illuminated by the moonlight that seeped through the windows, filled with obscene slurping and squelching accompanied by your whorish voice and choso's grunts and whines.
the moon shone over your squirming form and choso's sweat-slicked one, hips desperately grinding on his face while he happily took it, his own hips humping your sheets.
"good boy, good— mng— boy... y-you're going to make mommy cum if y-you keep doing that," your cheeks were flushed, sweat forming on your skin, body heating up, but it was nothing compared to choso's.
his face had been buried deep in your cunt with no intention of pulling away, drowning in the scent of your feminine musk, drinking your juices greedily like a starved man.
every naughty flick of his tongue on your exposed pearl, every sweet kiss on your fat labias, and every suck on your pink pussy flesh was driving you insane.
he knew every external spot that made you keen out.
the same spots you abuse and rub when masturbating.
of course, choso still pulled away ever so often.
... to ask for praise and reassurance.
"a-am i doing good, mommy?"
"i'm your good boy, right? only i get to eat you out like this, right?!"
"not there? are you sure, mommy? but you leak so much when i kiss your clit!"
gods, you needed to train his filthy mouth.
but then again, that same filthy mouth was the same reason why you're so fucked out already.
"g-good boy, right there, pup— m-mommy's gonna cum soon," you gasped out, scratching your nails over his scalp that made his fluffy black tail wag behind him, his small fangs grazing your sensitive flesh with each dopey smile.
"then cum for me, mommy, please give me a reward for being a good boy." he begged, whining and sucking harder on your pussy— kissing and licking all over, your juices spreading all over your inner thighs, biceps flexing on them.
"o-oh, fuck, cho— d-don't bite my clit like that!" you keened, trying to push him off as he gently grit and grind his teeth over your pink pearl.
your stomach was getting tight, the forming knot slowly uncurling, and your pussy throbbed like crazy.
finally, choso unwrapped one arm on one of your thighs and slid two fingers in while kissing your clit (as an apology? you didn't know), pumping his middle and ring finger in your tight heat with wet squelching, chocolate doe eyes hooded with deep lust as he eyed you from below.
"k-kyaaaahaahh!!!~~ ♡" with one last pump, you finally came undone, your juices spraying everywhere.
choso pulled his fingers out at the last second, lips closing over your cunt as he drank your pussy squirt greedily, pink hearts forming in those hungry eyes.
after the last drops of your juices spilled from your pulsating hole, choso finally pulled away after placing a soft kiss on your clit that received the most of his relentless hunger. he began to loosen his remaining hold on your thigh, rubbing and kissing them instead while sitting back on his haunches.
"h-haah, thank you, cho..." your voice was soft and shy, a tired smile painting on your lips.
you felt tired, thus made you pull your nightgown back down and close your legs.
but choso splayed his palms on your thighs, spreading them open. his eyes were lidded and had hearts for pupils, a crazed, hungry grin painted on his lips, exposing his pearly whites and sharp fangs, tail wagging behind him. his voice dropped an octave down, though still deceivingly sweet.
cw: mdni. smut. nerdjo is kindaa an asshole. oral (m receiving). orgasm denial. not proofread.
satoru is good at reading people.
he knew people like him; nerds, geeks, people who refused to hide their interests and intellect often got looked down on. he knew people like his twin brother, satori, who are strong in the social aspect. while he dominated physics classes and debate forums, satori was the life of the party, the ‘cool’ kid who had an aura that made everyone want to befriend him.
then there’s people like you.
the first time you walked in late to his general calculus class followed by a bow, apology, and explanation about being lost on campus, he had to suppress a scoff.
okay, maybe he was being mean or unreasonable but seriously? late on the first day yet your hair and make up was meticulously done? so you cared more about dressing all cute not that he found you cute! and looking all pretty also not that you’re that pretty too! than you care about finding where your 7 am class is? sure.
satoru usually had no problem with people like that, really. dress cute, do your make up, style your hair, do what you want. but he did hate people who could care less about their academics then would come bothering those who put in the effort to show up on time because they had incomplete notes or supplies. how was your problem theirs now too?
people like you were what he considered a nuance in his life. pretty girls who didn’t give guys like him a glance because no matter how pretty his own face is, you’d always prefer guys like satori. pretty girls who knew they were pretty and used it to their advantage.
satoru tried his hardest to avoid you in class. barely sparing you a glance or paying attention when you spoke in recitations. simply tuning your voice out with a small scowl as he looked away from the board.
he saw the way you chatted with the others and his lip curled whenever you smiled at one of them while taking their notebook. have you no shame? seriously, just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean you get to have your hands on the answers to every fucking assignment.
it didn’t help that for a group project, his group mates urged him to pick you. you! resident pretty girl who uses her charm to pass the class with ease.
“c’mon, satoru. it’s gonna be way easier with her!” one piped up when the professor looked at him expectantly, waiting for his last chosen member.
he grits his teeth. yeah, easier to fucking fail! whatever. if you don’t finish your shit on time, they will be the one burdened with additional loads.
so your name slips down his tongue bitterly and he hears some groans from his other classmates who probably wanted you in their group too. was he the only one who wasn’t fucking swayed by your charm?! what the fuck happened to the intellectuals in class? had you turned them into putty in your hands? yeah, well he’s not falling for it at all.
sure, he was a bit surprised when you showed up to his dorm 30 minutes early than the designated meeting time the next afternoon for a group meeting but he didn’t have time to dwell on the thought or hear your small, ‘hi!’ because his eyes were zeroed on the tiny fucking skirt you wore.
he gulps audibly as he lets you in, eyes averting to the posters on his wall and suddenly, he’s a bit self conscious about his choice of decor.
the anxious lump stays in his throat when you don’t say anything and made yourself comfortable near the small coffee table. jesus, you were probably thinking about how big of a loser he is now. why the hell did he care what you think anyway?!
he swallows the bitter taste of insecurity as he forces himself to speak up, “did you at least answer the equations assigned to you?” it comes out harsher than intended and the twinge of guilt that struck his chest when your face morphed into confusion pissed him off.
“well, yeah” fuck, has your voice always been that beautiful? what has he been missing out on? what?! hell no! he’s not that weak! he won’t succumb into your hands just from a confused eyebrow twitch and two (2) words!
he huffs, “whatever. you can do the presentation instead. me and the others will answer the equation problems”
he saw your eye twitch and sharpen at his words and the next thing he knew, you were on your knees while he sat at the edge of his bed.
“f-fuuck! ah! so good, oh—!” one of his hands were tangled in your hair, hips bucking into your mouth. he looks down and immediately regrets it. jesus christ, he wouldn’t mind doing your thesis if it meant having you on your knees —wait, what?!
“t’s all you’re good for, yeah?” he forces the words out in between heavy breaths, desperate to hold on to his pride despite the needy whines slipping out of his mouth. “sittin’ pretty on your knees, choking on my cock, hm? aahh! l-like that, yeah?”
you hollow your cheeks on purpose, tongue swirling his length.
“yeah. yeah, just like that, baby. make me cum ‘n maybe i’ll let you laze around while me ‘n the others work on the project, hm?” he chuckles, purposely pushing your head down further to make you choke.
he’s whining already, eyes shut and words dying down his throat as he inched closer to his release. “fuckfuckfuck—baby, ‘m gonna cum! fuck!”
you pull away at the last second with an obnoxious ‘pop!’ and his eyes shot open, head snapping down so fast he hears his neck crack.
meanwhile, you smile up at his teary and disbelieving gaze before moving back to the coffee table and taking out your notebook.
“actually, I’ve already answered all the equations last night. I’m pretty sure they’re all correct but we can compare my answers to your guys’ once they arrive. That’s what we always do.”
Suguru and Satoru love fucking with you. They've just never taken it quite this far.
or Suguru and Satoru get you high to fuck you.
pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru
wc: 3.7k
contents/warnings: dubious consent, drug use (weed), slight coercion, cunnilingus, reader is suguru's girlfriend, satoru has a crush on reader, they lokwey planned this beforehand, suguru is kind of terrible but it's okay because he's so sexy <3
notes: i truly think there's no universe in which you're dating gojo or geto without fucking the other one at least once
credits: dividers by @/dividers-are-us
It starts as an evening not different from many others. The evening sun illuminates the dorm room into a warm orange while some playlist put on by Geto plays in the background. You're seated between the two strongest, head leaned against the back of the couch—supplied charitably by Gojo's money—with your eyes closed. They're sharing the joint and talking about things you’re only halfheartedly listening to.
The three of you have done this many times, getting high in Suguru's and Satoru's dorm while shitty movies play in the background. It always inevitably ends with Suguru and you throwing Gojo out or scampering to your room to fuck like rabbits, much to Gojo's dismay. Though, almost any activity the three of you partake in ends in Suguru fucking you stupid.
It's almost a routine at this point, except you're already higher than you usually are. Or maybe it's just a different strain, you're not familiar with the details. You've always let the two of them figure it out. Why bother with it when they can just deal with it?
Right now your focus is on Suguru’s hand on your leg, on the way his fingers softly stroke the inside of your thigh and occasionally dip under the hem of your shorts. He's intimately aware of how horny you get when you’re high and he enjoys torturing you. Quite the sadist, he only fucks you when you’re reduced to a begging mess, tears glistening in your eyes, bruised mouth pleading “Fuck me, please. I need it please please please-”
“It's your turn, lightweight” Gojo laughs and you’re pulled back into the present. Your eyes open slowly and turn your head in his direction. Slender fingers offer you the joint whilst his bright blue eyes twinkle with something you can’t quite place. As usual, neither he nor Suguru seem that affected by the weed. Contrary to Satoru's statement you’re not actually a lightweight, but whenever you smoke with them, they manage to make you look like a fucking teenager trying weed for the first time. It’s ridiculous.
So you scrunch your face before shaking your head, you don't need to be even more out of it. Your expression makes Suguru chuckle and press a soft kiss against your temple. “Come on, baby, you can handle a bit more.”
You don't have to look at your boyfriend to see his stupid grin. His tone is condescending, a tone usually reserved to tell you “I know, baby. But you can take it.”
Fingertips ghost under the hem of your shorts again and your head spins. Just a bit higher. Please please please just a bit more.
His fingers disappear again.
Bastard.
Maybe you’d been nodding—or more likely, Gojo just did not care— because he places the lit joint between your lips. Fuck it, you decide and take a deep drag, exhaling when he removes the joint. Your cherry-colored lipstick stains the white filter, and the sight of him then placing it between his own lips suddenly feels weirdly obscene.
You let out a shaky breath; your mind is cloudy—and you like that, like the disconnect from your thoughts—but the weed and Suguru’s fingers on your leg border on too much. Your head falls back against the couch, your body is somehow loose and heavy at the same time. A sigh escapes your lips and you close your eyes again.
“What’s up baby?” Suguru asks, the faux concern in his voice makes you want to slap him. It also makes you want to fuck him more. That’s the struggle of dating him. You can never quite tell if you want to scratch his eyes out or if you want him to fuck you senseless (most of the time it's the latter).
Gojo says your name and places a hand on your knee. When you don't respond, his other hand grabs your chin and pulls your head in his direction. You’re met with a barely hidden grin while Suguru’s fingers dip under your shorts again, ghosting over the hem of your panties. You feel your face heat up even more —your body is always betraying you, there’s no pretending with him— and you clench your hands into fists.
“Hmm, you’re flushed,” Gojo states and strokes your cheek, his thumb brushing over the corner of your lips. It’s no wonder he’s Suguru’s best friend. He’s just as much of an asshole as your boyfriend and the way they enable each other is annoying. You hate them both, truly.
“’s hot,” you rasp out and Suguru laughs softly. Your head turns in his direction and your breath catches in your throat when you look at him, whatever insult you wanted to throw at him dies on your tongue. His amethyst eyes are dark and hungry. Your mouth is dry, you want him so bad, want his mouth, his teeth, his hands, anything. Why he hasn't already thrown out Satoru to tear you apart is beyond you.
“Maybe you need to take off some of your clothes,” the hand on your thigh moves upwards and his skilled fingers play with the hem of your crop top, “you’d be less warm.”
Heat flares in your stomach and your brows furrow in confusion. The lines between the three of them have always been…blurry. Gojo’s fingers tend to linger on your body, tend to gravitate towards you even when there’s no reason for him to be touching you. When the two of you are out alone, strangers often mistake you as a couple. Cooing how sweet your boyfriend is, how affectionate. And when you try to correct them, Satoru pinches your skin and thanks them with a shit eating grin.
Then there’s been a drunken kiss during truth or dare. A kiss so intense it left your lips swollen and bleeding. You’d never quite known how to deal with his overbearing presence. The kisses on your cheek, the arm thrown over your shoulder and pulling your hair like you're in preschool. And it's not that you didn't find him attractive, you're not blind, but there was still that pesky personality off his. The one that had problems accepting any boundaries and the word "no". So when you and Suguru officially started being a thing, you thought it’d put an end to Gojo's behavior. If not for your sake, then for his best friend's.
It didn’t. And Suguru never said anything. You never questioned him about it, just chalked it up to whatever weird fucking thing is going on between the two of them.
So you open your mouth to protest—you're not wearing anything underneath your top, which Suguru knows, and being topless in front of Gojo is all kinds of wrong—but it doesn't stop your boyfriend from pulling the top over your head while you're too sluggish to stop it.
He throws it away and entangles your hair from the many necklaces around your neck, and tucks it behind your ears. It’s a loving gesture, his thumb softly stroking your jaw, meant to soothe your nerves. And while your body sings every time he touches you, it doesn't quite work this time.
Gojo takes in a sharp breath and embarrassment flushes through you—you ignore how you feel your underwear dampening even more—and you want to cross your arms in front of your chest but Suguru anticipates your movement, grabbing your wrists and leveling you with a commanding stare. You test his grip once—only once because his darkening eyes are warning enough for you to become pliant—before letting your arms drop to your sides.
You're still not looking at Gojo, the humiliation of him seeing you like this is written all over your features. It turns him on how your roles are almost reversed. Usually, he goes too far and is greeted with your annoyance or even your absence when you're pissed off enough. Always on this high fucking horse, and now you're here—tits out, thighs clenched together and Suguru on his side for once.
While your mind is still clouded, your body is tense. The discomfort of the situation has an almost sobering effect. Suguru notices—of course—because the joint is pressed against your lips again, though this time you shake your head.
Geto's expression twitches in annoyance at your disobedient antics. Usually, you're the most pliant, the most behaved when you're inebriated but this time that unnecessary blanket of shame makes you difficult. While he doesn't take it personal, considering you just don't know any better, he finds it irritating of you to misbehave in front of an audience.
So he takes a deep drag of the joint and grabs your jaw. His long fingers dig into your cheeks, hard, effectively forcing you to open your mouth. Without pause, his lips are pressed against yours—pure muscle memory and desire coaxing you to open your mouth—pushing the smoke into your mouth. You let out a gasp when his tongue touches yours, the spark of electricity going through your body prompting you to forget all about your previous unease. The kiss quickly turns into a mess of spit, teeth and tongue. Suguru knows how to play you like a fiddle, just how he has to touch and kiss you to successfully empty your brain of any silly thoughts.
Your fingers grip his shirt, desperately pulling him closer. You want to mold yourself to him, to feel him all over you and Suguru adores you like this. All desperate and willing to let him do whatever he wants to you. He fondly hums into your mouth and his fingers move from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fasting your hair into a ponytail and pulling.
The action elicits a whine out of you. When Suguru pulls away—you chase after him, but the grip on your hair stops you—there's a line of spit connecting the two of you and Satoru wants to lap it up. You look thoroughly debauched, all heavy breathing, lips swollen and wet with spit. Last remnants of your lipstick are smudged around the corners of your bruised mouth, not quite helping your frazzled expression. Like an act of sympathy—and it's just that, an act—Geto lets go of your hair and leans back against the back of the couch. You mirror him since the weed makes it difficult to keep yourself upright. You feel yourself sinking into yourself, into the couch while this warm current flows through your veins. The previous feeling of anxiety dissipates in the air like smoke and you smile.
"I think you've been mean to our friend, baby," your boyfriend tsks while tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear. "Just look at him."
It's then that you finally grace Satoru with your attention. There's a sizable tent in his boxers and he's practically panting like a dog. His eyes are glued to your tits, to your perked up nipples and he's just itching to touch you. He wants to tug at them, to put them in his mouth and suck on them until you sob. Ever since he got to hear the little whimpers and gasps you let out when he kissed you during truth or dare, he's been desperate to hear more.
Like he can read his mind, Suguru's thumb starts to lazily circle your left nipple. The contact, despite it being feathery light, closer to an almost touch than an actual one, makes you twitch and the sound that escapes you—a pathetic little cry—makes precum leak through Satoru's boxers.
“So mean,” agrees Gojo, his voice dropping multiple octaves. His pink tongue darts out to wet his plush lips but his eyes remain fixed to your chest, on Suguru's finger circling your pretty, puffy nipple.
Your skin is flushed, your panties are drenched and all you want is for your boyfriend to finally throw out the white haired menace so you can be folded in half and fucked til your cunt is sore. Want and shame have you feeling dizzy, so you nuzzle into his shoulder mumbling a desperate "Please". You're seconds away from climbing his lap and humping his leg like a dog in heat.
"Poor baby," Suguru smirks and kisses the top of your head, "Satoru, you should take her shorts off." He looks at his roommate, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t want my baby to overheat.”
You open your mouth to protest, but are cut off by Suguru shushing you.
"You trust me, right? You're so needy, I just want you to be taken care of."
Satoru resembles a dog, perking up and practically salivating. It’s no question he’s wanted to fuck you for a long time now. Technically, he wanted you first but it's Suguru you wanted. It's Suguru you gravitated towards. Which is no surprise, he's always had an easier time getting girls, and guys. Even in high school, people fell to his feet. And it wasn't like people weren't into Gojo, he just always ended up scaring them off. He is always a bit too much. He's too eager and his non-existent respect for personal boundaries is off-putting. So when he finally got offered the chance to kiss you as a dare, he'd leapt at it. Pulled you close and almost devoured you. He still jerks off to the memory of your whimpers, to the memory of your taste and the warmth of your mouth.
He gets on his knees in front of you and it's ridiculous how he's almost as tall as you this way. His large hands run up and down your thighs and you shiver despite the warmth of the room. Through your hooded eyes you gaze at him and you think he might have never been more beautiful than this. Cheeks flushed, the tips of his ears tinted red and pupils huge.
"Hips up, baby," he grins, still all confident despite his obvious arousal, and his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your shorts.
“Fuck,” he hisses when he sees your panties —lacy, green and completely soaked. Humiliation churns in your stomach and you want to press your thighs together, want to hide your arousal because they haven’t even done anything to you yet. But as soon as you try to, Suguru slaps your thigh, hard and a wince escapes your throat.
“You don’t need these,” Gojo decides and his fingers grab a hold of the waistband, urgently pulling down the ruined scrap of fabric. The world spins slower than usual and God, you’re so fucking wet it’s ridiculous.
Before you have any chance to observe his expression of seeing you completely bare, Suguru grabs your jaw and presses his lips onto yours. His mouth is warm and hard, his nails dig into your skin, making you whimper into his mouth. It’s so easy for him to coax open your lips, to rob you of oxygen and whatever shred of doubt might be left.
You’re panting when Suguru pulls away and he takes advantage of your dazed state by grabbing your left thigh and pulling it over his own. Like an offering, he exposes your gleaming cunt to his best friend.
You twitch for a second, your body overcome with the urge to snap your thighs together but you know better than to listen.
Gojo knows this. He doesn't even look at you, no, instead his eyes observe Suguru’s and whatever he sees in them is enough confirmation he needs. He leans forward, his face mere inches away from your core, and you hold your breath, unsure whether it's in anticipation or dread. Maybe it's neither. Maybe it's both.
He’s slow, careful, when he touches you, pulling open your lips like he’s inspecting you. And then his thumb grazes your clit oh so softly—the touch barely even there—but it’s enough to make you cry out and buck your hips. You feel like you might actually combust when you’re touched properly.
“Is my princess sensitive?”, Suguru coos, his grip on your thigh tight while he presses wet kisses against your neck.
“Fuck you both,” you groan and close your eyes. You can't bear to look at either of them. Somehow it’s both too much and not enough at all. you miss the glance Suguru and Gojo share, you boyfriend’s nod.
Suddenly there's a harsh slap on your cunt and you let out a surprised gasp. You body startles but Suguru’s large hand, splayed over you stomach, keeps you down.
“You wanna be good now, or do we have to do this the hard way?”, Suguru asks and while his voice remains soft and pleasant, you know better. He’s not afraid to hurt you, to make you sob and shatter you into tiny little pieces.
“I’m gonna be good,” you whisper and you cunt throbs.
Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull when Gojo finally puts his mouth onto your dripping core and the sound that escapes your throat is loud and desperate.
Gojo’s mouth is skilled and you’re too high to care about any of the cries that escape you. He laps gently at your folds, sucking on them before his tongue wanders up to your throbbing clit. He circles the bud as many times as he pleases, occasionally flicking it back and forth before sucking on it.
While Gojo assaults your cunt with his mouth, turning it nice and puffy, Suguru starts kneading your breasts. Pinching and pulling your hard nipples, soothing them with his tongue before biting them. His mouth attacks your neck, your tits and your collarbones, leaving bite marks and hickeys all over you. If you weren’t so far gone, you’d comment on that, like you always do. You’re acting like a fucking teenager.
It's embarrassing how easy it is for Gojo to get you towards the edge. How messy and desperate he's got you. You've soaked his face in your juices and a pool of arousal gathers on the couch. With every flick of his tongue, more of your slick gushes out. stopping when your hips buck up and your cries become louder. At one point, you thread your fingers into his hair, desperately trying to keep his talented mouth on your cunt so you can finally come, but he doesn’t care. Just grabs your wrists and pulls them away like it’s no effort at all.
“Oh, is something wrong?”, he coos and blows air on your sensitive little nub.
Your hips jut up, and you let out a breathy whine.
“Please,” you beg with trembling lips.
“I think you can do better than that.”
Suddenly there are two long fingers inside your tight core. You let out a high-pitched moan. The stretch hurts in the best possible way. Suguru adds to that painfully pleasant sensation by biting your neck harshly. You’re gasping, arching your back. Your core is throbbing, desperate for Gojo’s skilled fingers to start moving, but he doesn’t.
“Please, Toru. I- I need to come. Please,” you whine. Your hips want to grind down on his skilled fingers, but Suguru presses a hand on your stomach to keep you in place.
“I’m not convinced,” Satoru sing-songs. A mean grin takes over his face while he starts pressing soft kisses against your trembling thigh. His dick presses uncomfortably against his jeans, begging to be touched, but he thinks he might be okay with it forever remaining untouched if he got to keep seeing you like this.
“Fuck, please…I- I’ll let you do whatever you want, I don’t care, just let me come. Please.”
Your breath catches in your throat when Gojos fingers start to move. They’re stretching your cunt, moving in and out in a slow rhythm to get you used to it. When you’re used to the stretch, he adds a third finger. He starts moving them, changing his aim with every hit like he's looking for something. Every cruel thrust punches out a mewl put of you and makes your thighs twitch.
When he finally hits that sweet spongy spot inside of you, you spasm and your eyes roll into the back of your head. It's like an electric shock cursing through your body. You can't help but cry out, limbs twitching while your heart speeds up.
You miss the grin on his face before he starts to attack that spot with the tips of his fingers. A high pitched keen escapes your lips and he suckles on your clit, all while pumping his fingers fast and hard into your core. The noises your sticky cunt makes are so loud, the constant schlick, schlick, schlick almost as loud as your cries.
Gojo's pace is a brutal one, one that hurts as much as it makes your insides clench in pleasure. Your poor pussy is so overwhelmed, unsure whether she wants to suck Satoru's long fingers in or push them out. Slick gushes out of you, pooling into a small puddle under your ass and covering the entirety of Satoru's hand. Pleasure pulses through you and you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and tighten and you think you feel prepared for your orgasm. But suddenly a finger presses against your untouched rim, not entering just yet, but nudging against it and god, your slick adds just enough lubrication for his finger to slip inside, just a bit, and your vision goes white.
You come with a soundless cry, your body tensing up, cunt clenching oh so tight around his digits, digits he's still moving inside out of you, while liquid gushes out of you. It's so intense, your body completely overstimulated and it's only when you start sobbing, writhing around like you're in pain, that Satoru stops and slides his fingers out of you.
It appears you actually passed out for a hot second, because when you finally return to your body, Suguru is pressing soft kisses along your jaw, cooing how well you did. You're utterly spent, eyes remaining closed while you nuzzle into his neck.
Suguru notices your slowed down breathing, how sleep is tugging at you senses but that just won't do. So he grabs your jaw, the action waking you right back up, and smiles at you. A smile that reminds you of a predator.
"Oh, baby. You don't think we're finished with you, do you?”
frat!sukuna crashing out over gojo trying to steal his baby mama!
frat!sukuna wouldn't say he baby trapped you.
because apparently, the whole trap part didn't fucking work in the first place.
if it did, you wouldn't be letting rival frat president!gojo buy you groceries and grin at you like he couldn't wait to get in your panties. freak just wanted to try your fucking breast milk.
the white-haired idiot had no interest in changing diapers or pushing around strollers or burping a four-month old only to end up with a trail of spit down his shirt.
but noooooo, it seemed like you still thought he would make a better boyfriend than the actual father of your child.
sure, okay, it wasn't like the two of you had ever officially dated. but fucking in the bathroom at frat parties was and going out for breakfast together the morning after was kinda close? besides, you were supposed to come to him all doe-eyed and distraught with a pregnancy test in hand to let him lock you down for good and become future father of the year. not just retreat and run away - right into the arms of a waiting buffoon with nothing better to do than beg for your attention.
he'd been trying to step up. but someone wouldn't stop getting in the goddamn way.
sukuna knew you used to tutor him. he just hadn't known how borderline obsessed gojo was with you.
intercepting his calls, pretending to be you over text, trying to tell him the wrong times for appointments and pick ups, everything possible in his power to put himself firmly between the two of you. you didn't even believe him when he tried to tell you either.
rolling your eyes and swearing that satoru would never.
you were naive. a little awkward. the shy sort that got all agitated at the slightest bit of attention. sukuna liked the way you flushed just from a few words, how you refused to meet his stare unless you were laid bare beneath him, biting your lip or burying your face into his collarbone when he groaned your name.
so how the hell had a guy like satoru gojo sunk his claws into you right under his nose?
"he just wants to fuck you," sukuna gritted his teeth, trying not to actually growl when you slid into the booth across from him - all while mr. moron who snuck in walked over to the barista with your baby strapped to his chest.
"i think you're projecting," you muttered under your breath, arching up an eyebrow and swirling a straw around the drink sukuna already ordered you. your favorite.
"i never said i didn't," he sharply retorted, holding his chin up high like it wasn't eating him fucking alive seeing you act like a married couple with gojo when that was supposed to be him.
"come on, it's not like you're actually interested anymore," you murmured, shaking your head as you sighed at him.
"what the fuck are you talking about?" he frowned, brows furrowed tight.
"you're surrounded by sorority girls most weekends," you shrugged, as if he wasn't trying to spend every night you'd let him at your place taking night shifts with his son. "and i just had a baby."
"did he fucking say something to you?" he snapped, squinting accusingly at gojo before swiveling his head back to you.
you were all flustered, your cute face scrunching as you scoffed and motioned for him to lower his voice, "it's common sense. we're not together. of course you're sleeping with other girls. it's fine, i-"
"no, no, i'm-" he protested, but you weren't finished, awkwardly mumbling that it wasn't like the two of you were ever something serious anyway.
"satoru asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday," you added, shoulders sheepishly bobbing up. "so, you know, if you decide to date around too, it's not gonna be weird or anything."
"did you say yes?" he gawked, grinding his molars as he debated on banging his own head against the wall of the cafe.
"well, not yet," you mumbled, tilting your head to the side. "but i'm-"
"you two talkin' about me?" your not-boyfriend chuckled, grinning as he returned with a bag filled with muffins and croissants and whatever else filled with sugar he could find on the menu.
you opened your mouth to speak, but then you abruptly glanced down at your chest, mouth pressing together as you sighed and slipped out of the booth, holding your arm's out to take your baby back. his baby back. "i think i'm about to start leaking. i'm gonna go feed him out in the car."
sukuna almost said that no one would give a shit if you fed him in here. but he knew you better. knew you'd never be comfortable with that - so he bit his tongue, not exactly pleased at the prospect of spending the next twenty minutes sitting here with gojo waiting for you to come back.
"her tits look fuckin' great, don't they?" satoru chirped the second you slipped out the door, loudly opening the bag and popping the first thing he pulled out into his mouth.
"shut the fuck up," sukuna snapped at him, scowling as he resisted the urge to strangle him.
the asshole was just trying to ragebait him.
and it was unfortunately working a little too well.
"can i ask you something?" gojo grinned, crumbs falling to the table as he spoke with a full mouth.
"I'm not saying you don't know how to fuck your girl, Fushiguro."
Your boyfriend takes a long toke of his cigarette, leaning back in the plush armchair facing the hotel bed. He blows smoke towards the two of you, his eyes narrowing. "Sure fuckin' sounds like it."
You roll your eyes. Even as he watches his girl getting fucked by his best friend, he's got a mouth on him. Any other man would be humbled by such a sight — Toji just stares.
He's hard. you can see the fabric of his sweats straining at the crotch, even from where you lay pressed into the bed. If Shiu weren't fucking you so deeply, you might be able to take a breath, focus your eyes, and discern whether or not that dark patch over Toji's groin is from his leaking pre, or if it's just a trick of the light.
"I'm just saying—" Shiu slows the snapping of his hips and transitions instead into a rolling motion that is more soothing than it is erotic. I'ts good; you like it. You could fall asleep like this, full of cock, the weighted blanket of his body on top of yours. "—you fuck to fuck. I fuck to connect."
Toji snorts from his chair, like he's in a position to puff his chest out. "I'd already be inside of her. No need to connect."
He's certainly not a romantic. Shiu groans, pushing himself nice and deep as he presses a sweet kiss to your neck.
One of his hands (rough, but not mean like Toji’s) snakes down your body in search of your clit. It’s still sensitive from the half-hour of head he warmed you up with, so he’s gentle when he starts circling the pad of his finger around your nerves. You find yourself gasping, hiccuping as air fills your lungs, and moaning as it leaves.
“You hear that?” Shiu glances over his shoulder to Toji, who now looks a little less cocksure than before. He’s restless, adjusting himself in his pants and spreading his knees to make room for the heavy erection he’s sporting. “She sound like this with you?”
Toji rolls his neck, feigning arrogance. “Nope. She’s louder with me.”
He’s not wrong. Toji often has you screaming into the pillow as he drags his fat cock in and out of you. Pounds you, for lack of romance. You like how he’s rough and dirty and strong in how he handles you; but there’s something about the attention Shiu is giving you that makes you dizzy with pleasure.
Shiu ignores Toji from there on. His eyes rove over your face, as do his lips. He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead as he fucks you — his moustache tickly against your skin. It’s damp with your arousal, and you can’t help but wonder if he’ll smell you on his lips later tonight and remember how you tasted.
Of course he will.
The cigarette smoke that lingers in the air fills your lungs, and you turn your head in your haze to find your boyfriend has the waist band of his sweats lowered beneath his balls. His cock is out, but not free — the tight grip he has it in looks near painful. He strokes in time with Shiu’s thrusts into you, taking into account each time he slows to pull back and look at the mess of need you must be.
“Don’t look at me,” he grumbles when he notices your eyes on him. “You wanted this. Look at him.”
You feel like you’ve been caught red-handed, drooling over the sight of him fisting his leaky cock, but Shiu kisses your cheek and leans down to whisper in your ear before you can break your gaze away. “Don’t listen to him. He’s imagining he’s me. Keep watching him, let him know he’s only half the reason you’re this wet right now.”
Your skin warms. Despite Toji’s order, you keep watching him. A gentle flush, one that is so unlike your Toji, paints his face pink. He’s got his lip caught between his teeth, holding a groan in his muscled chest as he watches you and Shiu. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you were being fucked silly, on your hands and knees like a whore — but no, Shiu is practically making love to you.
Your lips part as you watch your boyfriend experience a surge of a million different feelings. Questions he isn’t sure he wants answered; do you prefer the stretch of Shiu’s cock to his? Do you like being worshipped like this? Will you say yes if he asks to make this a regular thing?
“I love you,” falls from your lips in a shaky moan. Though you say it softly, as if to meet only Shiu’s ears, your eyes are still on Toji. “Love how you feel inside of me.”
Toji’s eyes widen. His hand jerks faster, hips buck up a little from that self-made prison of an armchair. He doesn’t know if you’re talking to him or Shiu, and it’s about to send him over the edge. A part of him wants to leap up and pull Shiu off you; fill you with his own cock instead and flood your womb with his release. Another part of him wants to get behind Shiu and fuck into him; let him be the vessel between you that gets to know exactly how the two of you merge to ‘make love’. He’d fuck him deep and mean justs to get the message through to you.
But, the part of him that wants to keep his ass planted to the cuck chair and watch his girl take the load of his best friend wins out.
“I’m gonna fucking—” he cracks, choking on his words as his hips stutter and cum shoots all over himself. His black shirt is soaked in the stuff, his fist covered, but he doesn’t stop.
Shiu pays him no mind. It’s hard when you feel this good, wrapped around his cock for the first, and likely only, time in his life. He’s dreamt of this, convincing Toji to share his score — he is his handler, after all.
You want to come, but Shiu is taking his time bringing you to the peak. Usually Toji would just hike a hand around you and rub you ‘til you beg for mercy. Shiu, however, seems to like the way you squirm beneath him as he paws at your thighs, pushes them up against your body, and folds you into a mating press.
The new depth he reaches inside of you is torturous. You feel so full, yet so unsated at the same time. You wonder how well you’d take them both; whether you’d stretch out to accommodate two cocks at once or if one would have to fill your mouth instead. You want to crawl over to Toji and lick his cock clean, taste something from him as you’re so full of another man.
Another glance over at your boyfriend rewards you with the sight of his screwed-up face. His eyes are set on the spot Shiu fucks into you, and he strokes himself into overstimulation. Seems he won’t be left out for even a moment.
“Fuck,” Shiu’s hips slam forward, skin slapping against skin in a heated rhythm. His chest heaves, and you can tell he’s about to cum — even with how overwhelmed your pussy is, you can feel him twitching inside. “I’m close.”
“Not inside,” Toji growls from his seat. That was his only rule going into this. That, and no butt stuff. Toji reserves your womb and ass for himself.
“I know, asshole,” Shiu grunts. His eyes roam your face once more with a soft (but elastic tight) smile on his face. “Want you to come first. On my cock; I’ll pull out after, okay?”
You can hardly nod. Once again, his fingers come down on your clit, wedged tightly between your moving bodies. He circles it, quick but gentle, and sends you absolutely dizzy with pleasure. You know Toji is still stroking himself as he watches you come undone; and you know he’s probably going to pull another orgasm or two out of you tonight to repair his ego. Your poor cunt.
Your orgasm washes over you quickly, and with enough pressure to force a loud, crying moan from your chest. Your legs shake, eyes squeezing shut as your head spins. You haven’t felt this good in… ever.
Not just because of Shiu; but knowing Toji is watching.
Your climax sends Shiu careening over the edge. He’s quick to pull out, leaving you feeling absolutely lost in your emptiness. He gives his cock a squeeze, as if to stall his orgasm, and looks you over hungrily before… pulling away?
Instead of shooting over your stomach or across your pretty face, Shiu leaps off the bed and makes his way over to Toji, whose eyes are wide as his best friend approaches. He’s not given much time to react before Shiu is taking the back of his head in one hand and feeding the tip of his cock past his lips with the other. Toji chokes on his surprise, and then on the load that Shiu releases into his mouth with a loud groan.
Instinctively, he spits. Rivulets of cum drip from his lips, down his chin, and join the mess of his own cum on his stomach and cock. His eyes are wide, a little angry, but his surprise doesn’t stop Shiu from pulling back and leaning down to catch your boyfriend's lips in a very messy kiss. Cum and spit is passed between them, paired with loud groans that travel right from them to your still-buzzing clit.
You watch from the bed with wide eyes, having just discovered something very interesting about yourself.
You wonder if they’ll let you sit in the cuck chair next.
୨୧ 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐂 !
frustrated incel!mahito headcanons . . . ꒰ read part 1 here ꒱
incel!mahito who usually humps his favourite body pillow when he just can't get the image of your drooling cunt out of his head! he can't last more than two minutes and spills inside his pants every time.
incel!mahito who keeps thinking about all the men who you've let fuck you in the past. you've let them pull your hair and call you all kinds of names while being balls deep inside your pussy. it makes his blood boil. all he wants to do is get his hands on you and rub his cock all over your insides so hard that all the filth from your other pathetic boyfriends gets scrubbed off completely (even though deep down he knows he's just all talk and could never get his hands on a girl like you).
incel!mahito who sweats buckets the first time you visit his place to work with him for an important presentation. he showered and even bothered to brush his messy hair before you came.
incel!mahito who remembered everything else but to close a few tabs he had opened the night before in his computer, so as soon as he opens it to google something, graphic hentai flashes on the screen. he shuts it off immediatelly, hoping you were too engrossed in your textbook to notice anything. but when he subtly turned around, your eyes were glued to his screen and your eyebrows knit.
"what was that...?"
"n-nothing! just pop ups and stuff..." he stumbles over his own words. you find the combination of his barely noticable lisp caused by his braces and his burning red ears absolutely adorable.
you lean closer to him, your fist propped under your chin. "is that so?"
"yeah!" he says a bit too eagerly, but he immediatelly clears his throat. "i mean, why would i..." his anxious blabbering abruptly stops when your hand drops to his crotch. there is a soft curve and a continuously growing wet spot that darkens the fabric of his sweatpants.
"liar."
incel!mahito who leaks so much pre that you can barely give him a proper handjob. you can't really wrap your hand around his cock since it's so slippery and his legs keep shaking.
incel!mahito whose cock is way bigger than you expected. it's fat and heavy, and everytime he lifts it up and lets it fall, it lands on your stomach with a wet plop.
incel!mahito who doesn't know where his dick is supposed to go. he is clueless about female anatomy and he almost starts crying out of sheer frustration when he can't find the right hole, but you guide him in before he bursts into tears on top of you.
synopsis: you never meant to get in the middle of a marriage. but when you're caught between your beautiful best friend and the king she was forced to wed, you find your position as a maid-turned-concubine particularly challenging - especially when he begins demanding an heir from one of you. can gojo keep you all to herself? or will everything else keep getting in the way?
pairing: queen!gojo x concubine!reader (x king!geto)
wc: 20.7k
content: mdni. angst + smut, medieval setting, FEM!JO!!!, YURI YURI YURI!!!, lots of yearning and pining, intense jealousy, loathing, childhood crushes, gojo is obsessed, yandere!femjo tbh, piv sex, character death, trauma, reader is suffering, heavy angst, fear of being abandoned, cold and conniving gojo, but she's also a sweet puppy for her girl, they want each other so bad, humiliation, wrongful imprisonment, unbalanced power dynamics, master/maid relationship, use of nicknames (princess, angel), geto slander lmfao, confessions, kissing, oral sex (f! recieving), fingering, blindfolds and restraints, 69, multiple positions, happy ending
a/n: this was a commission for my incredibly lovely angel @cantarcantar + the art above is from the super talented @anniewinniie and the div is by @/tsumiinum
“Fuck, Suguru, you’re so-”
As much as Satoru enjoyed hearing your pretty little pants and moans, she was rather sick of hearing you whine his name instead of hers.
But of course, even if she was the queen, what could she do when you were her husband’s concubine?
“Someone’s going to hear you, pretty,” he wryly replied, and she could practically hear the smirk in his honeyed voice, syrupy sweet just for you.
Blegh.
She held in her gag, grimacing at his deep grunt.
Satoru parted the thick vines concealing your not-so-secret garden hideaway. Tucked behind flowering bushes, forget-me-not covered trellises, a blanket was spread out on the green grass of your hidden nook as Suguru fucked you right there, your dress bunched up above your hips as he greedily plunged his ridiculously oversized cock inside you.
Where was the patience?
The preparation?
Treating you like a princess rather than rutting into you like some ruthless animal?
Satoru felt her mouth twitch down, heart freezing as she found herself slipping through the gap in the trellises, forcing herself to slyly smile as she interrupted the scene.
“Suguru,” she called out, keeping her voice airy and calm as she condescendingly looked down at your bodies tangled together. Containing the cold anger that had sunk its claws into her heart as she cleared her throat, sucking in a slow breath, “Your advisor is looking for you.”
Her husband threw an annoyed look over his shoulder, dark bangs falling in his face as his soft purple eyes hardened into a scowl.
“He can wait,” he grimaced, as if to say, so can you.
But Satoru could be just as stubborn.
“I heard it’s about a rather important matter,” she lied, shrugging her shoulders as the skirt of her finely embroidered dress swung and shifted by her feet.
“I will be finished in just a-”
“We can always continue when you return,” you reassured him, brushing his bangs back out of his face and biting down on your glossy bottom lip.
You knew your place.
Content to be that knave’s concubine, free for him to use whenever he pleased. Unbothered no matter how many times he expected you to wait and adhere to his whims when he should be doing his damndest to make your every wish come true.
Satoru despised it. Detested the infuriating way her husband took and wasted every ounce of your attention.
You were her best friend first.
“Fine,” Suguru hissed, hesitantly pulling out of you but not before throwing Satoru a heated glare.
“I can keep your concubine company,” she smiled, blue eyes sparkling with satisfaction as Suguru unceremoniously shoved his cock back inside his pants, storming past her to go off and search for an advisor who was likely already tucked into his bed.
He would just come back for you once he figured it out.
But by then, Satoru was sure she could kill the mood enough that he wouldn’t get to have you tonight.
Not without her in the room.
“I’m sorry,” you softly apologized once he was gone, hastily pulling your dress down, embarrassed that she’d seen you so exposed.
As if it wasn’t the first time.
She was well aware of her husband’s preference for you to not wear any undergarments when he was planning on seeing you. Had walked in on the two of you in their marital bed more times than she could count.
At first, she thought it was better you than her.
Held no interest in having sex with him herself or making any heirs, no matter how much the court tried to convince her that it was necessary.
Why would she ruin her body for a man she could barely stand? Who she was forced into a political marriage with?
Lately?
She was growing tempted to just take her clothes off and offer herself up if it meant Suguru would go a single day without insisting on having sex with you. Even if she’d be resisting the urge to gag and roll her eyes at every one of his groans.
“I’ll return to my chambers, Your Majesty,” you respectfully murmured, averting your gaze with faint shame creeping into your fair features. You were trying to not make this strange or strained, smoothing out your dress as you pushed your palms off the blanket.
“How many times must I ask you to call me Toru, hm?” She teased, breaking the tension with an easy laugh.
It used to be breezy to be around you.
Before he snatched you from her grip.
Back when you were both girls growing up together, as a princess and her maid. Your delicate hands brushing her hair and working all the knots out with nimble fingers at the end of every day, chatting about the scullery gossip before Satoru would pull you into the blankets and demand that you sleep next to her.
To keep the nightmares away.
Everyone always let Satoru do what she wanted.
Except for having you.
Sure, she could drag you around, take you everywhere she went, but instead of simply being hers, you were more of an accessory.
The most you could be was a maid. A servant.
Not a lover.
Satoru tried to be content with that. Truly.
Accepted it from an early age that you weren’t going to be hers when she was destined for a political relationship and your stare often lingered a little too long on knights instead of ladies.
She told herself that at least she got to bring you along to this palace to be by her side for this marriage, but the moment Suguru saw you standing next to her, he stole you.
Made you his concubine within the week, put you in your own room and dolled you up in gowns and gems. Satoru had been sneaking blue dresses in your new closet, replacing the jewel tones and purples with the shades of the sky, of the ocean rather than the rich hues he had such a proclivity for.
But it didn’t make much of a difference when you were tending to him now instead of her.
“Toru,” you said her name so sweetly, chewing the inside of your cheek now as you reluctantly met her stare. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“You are not the one who should apologize,” she exhaled, shrugging her shoulders as she walked over to where you were sheepishly staring at the blooming flowers.
Skimming a delicate hand over your arm, appreciating the warmth of your skin as she stopped just shy of your shoulder, tracing a little heart with the edge of her thumb as she soothed you.
“Come with me,” she murmured.
Your head snapped up, your eyes wavering and wide. Unsure. “Where?”
“My room,” Satoru hummed. “Like old times.”
Back when the only hands that ever had the fortune to brush over your body were hers. When you belonged solely to Satoru.
Funnily enough, you were still sleeping in her bed. Just with her husband.
What would she have to do to keep his calloused palms off her prize?
“Are you sure Suguru will be-”
“No man would complain about two beautiful women in his sheets,” she rolled her eyes, interlocking arms with you and pulling you forward.
It wasn’t exactly true.
Suguru would have plenty to grit his teeth and groan about when he wouldn’t get the chance to put his dick inside of you.
But you were naive enough to not realize that, smiling back at Satoru the way you used to, leaning against her arm and sighing with relief, relaxing once it struck you that she wasn’t upset with you.
“I’m not nearly as beautiful as you,” you wistfully mumbled under your breath, and Satoru’s heart soared. Pale cheeks heating up at your compliment, squeezing you reflexively as she laughed.
She knew she was beautiful. Blessed by the gods in nearly every aspect from the moment she was born.
But even when they had given her a face any male would love, they had cursed her with a heart that could only belong to a female.
To you.
Had been stamped with your name and sealed to be yours from the first day she found you.
It wasn’t fucking fair that Suguru got to just reap everything she sowed.
Got to be the one inside you, on top of you, beside you. Who could just openly want you with no repercussions.
If his smug smirks and sly remarks weren’t enough for her to loathe him, Satoru still would have hated him for that fact alone.
“I think you are far lovelier than any of these lousy flowers,” Satoru spoke softly, tilting her head around the garden she’d grown to only feel disgust for too.
It had been beautiful at first. A work of art she’d taken to walking the winding paths through in the evenings to calm her chaotic mind when the two of you first came here.
But all it had taken was to walk in on Suguru mounting you on a patio table the third week in for every last petal and blossom of this place to become tainted.
He was making a fucking fool of her.
Freely flaunting how much he adored fucking you wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
No doubt she wasn’t the first to catch the two of you.
“You flatter me,” you blushed, turning away from her as you picked up the pace.
You already knew the way back to her marital room.
Even if she wasn’t the one you usually came there for.
Satoru had separate chambers, of course, ones that were made solely for her, but she knew that Suguru would retaliate in some petty fashion if she brought you there instead.
“I am merely being honest,” Satoru hummed, lips curling up in an easy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She knew you well enough to know you were too embarrassed to respond. That you weren’t truly taking her seriously.
Shouldn’t you know by now that the only person she saved her sincerity for was you?
“I find myself missing you more and more,” Satoru slowly added, heart thumping so hard she was sure it would somehow end up lodged in her throat as you looked back at her with those big, apologetic eyes.
Guilt-ridden.
Weighed down by the obvious worry you carried for fucking her husband.
“I miss you too,” you murmured quietly, lip curling up in your best attempt at a smile before it immediately fell again.
“You seem tired,” Satoru observed, reaching over with her free hand to brush the hair away from your face. Treasuring the few seconds her fingertips skimmed across your soft cheeks. “Let’s get some rest.”
“But Suguru-”
“Do me a favor,” she purred, offering her most reassuring grin. “Do not worry about him.”
She could deal with it.
It was worth whatever trouble would come to watch you trade your dress for one of her silky blue nightslips, staring at the bare expanse of your exposed back as you bent over to shimmy it on, holding her breath as you turned around, looking absolutely delectable.
The sweetest dessert she could ever dream of.
And the only one she wasn’t allowed to taste.
“Do you want me to do your hair?” You asked, fiddling with your fingers as you nervously looked around the room.
Satoru wished she could wipe your anxieties away.
“I would never say no to that,” she said instead, putting up a far more carefree front than she truly felt.
Perching on the edge of the stool of her vanity, passing you her hairbrush as you slowly pulled all of her long, silky white strands back over her shoulder. You took your time brushing it out, carefully separating it as you went and making sure there were no tangles before you slowly began to braid it, nimble fingers working to twist the parted hair.
She could see your reflection in the mirror, the way you bit your kiss-swollen bottom lip, brows pinched together tightly in focus as your practiced hands made an easy job of it.
“There you go,” you hummed once you finished, tying a white ribbon at the end as you looked in the mirror back at her. “Do you like it?”
“I like everything you do,” Satoru replied on instinct.
Except for Suguru.
Your face flushed, smiling as you stepped back away from her, glancing over to the bed.
“Good night then,” you muttered.
“Good night,” Satoru replied, shoving down the lump in her throat as she tried to discreetly dry her clammy palms on her own nightdress as she stood up. Snuffing out a few of the candles so that the only light was from the flickering fire, crawling into bed after you, pretending to be unaffected by your proximity as she got under the sheets next to your body.
But she wasn’t quite as good at it as she used to be.
Unable to slow her breathing, chest rising and falling far too fast as you tossed and turned, the short hem of the slip riding up on your thighs under the covers as Satoru desperately stared at the ceiling of her four-poster bed and ignored the heat ignited in her core.
A steady pulse, an irritating throb straight to the center of her, speeding up each time your leg brushed against hers, or your hand accidentally grazed along her arm.
“Sweet dreams,” she belatedly whispered, but you had already fallen asleep, soon snoring on one of her pillows like you once did so long ago, hair sprawling out that Satoru couldn’t stop herself from softly stroking.
Her pretty maid, right where she belonged once more.
But for how long?
When would Suguru do something that would fully free you of her?
God, what the fuck was she going to do if he knocked you up? Forced you to bear his heir? Make you raise a whole brood of miniature hims?
That asshole would surely move you to a separate palace, maybe claim that Satoru made threats or something equally absurd to justify giving you a title or some security.
Satoru refused to let any of that happen.
You were more than just a breeding mare.
More than just a pawn to be played with – no matter what her husband attempted to turn you into.
Like she summoned a demon, the door swung open, and Satoru immediately removed her hand from by your head, sitting up in bed to stare at the intruder.
The real interloper here.
Suguru scowled at the sight of her next to you, his lips pressing in a thin line as he peeled off his expensive robe.
“Return to your private chambers,” he dismissed, irritation heavy in his voice.
“This marital bed is mine too,” Satoru retorted, patting the spot next to her to gesture for him to join.
She’d prefer not to spend the night suffering the masculine scent of his cologne, but she supposed she could just roll closer to you to inhale your much sweeter smell. It was always light, flowery, like some intoxicating summer bloom she wanted to pluck and preserve.
He laughed at the idea of sleeping together too, a low and cruel one.
Satoru wanted to snarl back that if she were a man, if they were both vying for your hand, you would have chosen her without a blink.
But she just had to bite her tongue and stare at the one person who had everything she wanted.
“Funny that I only find you in here when it’s with her,” he knowingly scoffed.
“Is it?” Satoru feigned ignorance. “I was the one who brought her here.”
Her husband didn’t care though.
No, he just walked over as if she had no place in this room, no right to her spot in the bed beside you, stripping his shirt off before removing his pants, as if a little bit of nudity would scare Satoru off.
“What do you think our love would do if she knew you lusted after her even more than I do?” Suguru mocked, barely making an effort to disguise his thinly-veiled threat. One corner of that irritating mouth of his curling up in a crude smirk, casually dismissing the weight of her affection for you to a simple sin.
His love?
Satoru almost laughed back at him.
You were hers. Had always been.
And would be once again.
“Shall I tell her?” He asked, tilting his head towards your sleeping figure as he pulled back the blankets to get in too.
“She would think it’s just a jest,” Satoru rolled her eyes, her nose scrunching up as he actually got in next to her.
It didn’t matter how obvious she made it to you.
You were blissfully unaware.
Clueless to the hunger she harbored in her heart to chain you to her.
“I suppose we’ll find out soon,” he muttered under his breath, and despite the shield she’d prepared, it splintered with sheer panic at the thought of you taking his word.
At the risk of you being repulsed by the realization, rejecting her and refusing to exist in the same space for the rest of her life.
That wouldn’t do.
Suguru was already a persistent problem.
But now it appeared she had no choice but to solve it before he could screw her over. Before he could wreck what she’d spent so long building.
She’d prefer to prepare a guillotine for his cock, to punish him for the crime of being inside you, but she refused to be the one put in prison for it.
No, Satoru needed a plan. A foolproof way for this to end with you in her arms.
Perhaps some poison to put His Royal Majesty in a grave while she was at it.
ε✿з
“Morning, beautiful.”
You wondered who your king’s groggy morning voice was meant for. You?
Or his wife?
Your true master.
“Good morning, husband,” Satoru replied, her usually sweet voice cold and clipped.
Of course.
You weren’t exactly surprised.
But what did throw you off was the two very different arms strewn across your waist, one thick and muscled slung low towards your hips while the other far daintier one was delicately tangled just below your breasts.
Somehow, you had ended up in between them.
Rather fitting, wasn’t it?
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Suguru scolded her, and your stomach just curdled at the annoyance in his tone.
The weight on your midsection disappeared, and you tried to roll on your side, to pretend you were still asleep, but then he was pulling you against him, and you could only bite the inside of your cheek and focus on the taste of blood on your tongue to hold it together as something hefty and hard pressed into your spine.
It was just wrong to do this in front of Satoru.
You didn’t understand what Suguru saw in you anyway.
It wasn’t like you truly were stunning. Not compared to her.
You weren’t blind.
You’d always been rather plain put next to Satoru’s perfect face.
She was the one people stopped to stare at when she walked in a room, the subject of whispers and wishes and fools willing fate to just give them a single chance for the pleasure of one conversation in her presence.
And beneath her beauty was the sort of one-of-a-kind soul someone could spend the rest of their life searching for.
Even now, when you were sleeping with her husband, she was still being sweet to you.
Swearing that she knew you couldn’t do anything about being his concubine, bringing you back to her bed for a sleepover like she hadn’t caught you having sex with him.
You didn’t deserve her. And you really couldn’t comprehend why Suguru wouldn’t want her.
Yet, she always tried to spare your feelings.
Sent away any maid who mocked you and scolded any staff member that attempted to tease you ever since you were children.
Going from dismissing any knight that tried to flirt or feel you up as teenagers to stripping some lower noble of her rank simply for speaking ill of you two weeks ago over suggesting that she should punish you for trying to steal her husband.
You hadn’t asked for any of it.
All you wanted was to watch her fall in love. To stand by her side and see her find her happily ever after.
Instead, you were embroiled in an affair with the man she married.
And now the guilt was gnawing through your bones, shame shattering you every time she saw you with him.
You sort of felt like your life could be divided in two groups.
Before Satoru. After Satoru.
She saved you. You were born into servitude, to parents who worked in the worst kind of noble homes. The ones where the money was passed down with generations, belonging to spoiled gamblers and drunks who didn’t know how to do anything other than spend it — and couldn’t care less about their staff members.
You learned how to scrub baseboards and sweep instead of how to read and write. To never speak unless spoken to. To make yourself smaller than a speck of dust just to survive.
It didn’t matter.
They had a son a year older than you.
One that was particularly fond of pulling your hair and ripping up your uniforms every time you hung them out to dry.
Who found a passion in pushing you down and pretending to his family that you had committed every variety of petty crimes against him.
Your life was a living hell.
Until your angel showed up.
In a pretty white dress that matched her soft hair, the sun shining on her pale face as she blinked down at you with big, blue eyes. She was visiting with her parents, supposed to be attending a play date with your personal tormentor, only to walk in on him attempting to cut off a chunk of your hair with a knife he’d stolen from the chef.
He had accidentally cut you with it, a thin streak of blood trickling down your throat as you sobbed hysterically, unable to stop yourself as you curled up against the tree he cornered you against.
“Drop that,” she commanded, an air of authority to her even when she was still a child.
He did, even though his obedience seemed to surprise him.
“You’re not the boss of-”
She was already stepping forward though, kicking the knife away before graciously approaching you, unbothered by the sniffing mess you’d become, just squatting down and drying your tears with her sleeve.
“You’re coming home with me.”
And you did.
She had half-dragged you inside, forcing herself to fake tears of her own before crying to her parents that he had attacked her, and that you’d gotten hurt defending her.
They believed her lie.
And she bought you from the hellhole you were born into.
You would probably be dead without her.
Starved or beaten for not performing your duties well enough, discarded like some cheap possession instead of a person.
The boy was punished, his family’s status revoked — although you never learned what happened to them after that.
At least with Satoru, you could be her doll.
Someone she dressed up and dragged around to tea parties and meals, forcing everyone to have a chair for you like it was normal for a mere maid to dine with royalty.
She grew out of it when she got a little older, when people began to look down on you for her behavior instead of her.
But when they announced her marriage, she still refused to go unless she brought you with her, insisting that she wouldn’t adapt without a familiar face before whispering to you in private that she’d never leave her favorite friend behind.
Did she regret that now? Wish she never took you in to begin with?
You felt like a nuisance.
It was impossible to ignore the whispers of the court here, the constant discussion of the heir that didn’t currently exist.
All of it felt like your fault.
Surely, if you weren’t here, if you weren’t imposing, then Satoru might have already gotten pregnant, or perhaps have even had a child already.
As far as you knew, they had yet to even consummate their marriage.
You used to whisper about what it would be like to have sex. So sure that she would be the one to experience it first. Giggling under the covers about how the whole thing seemed sorta gross. To let a guy stick it inside of you and listen to him grunt and groan?
Honestly, you never thought it would be you giving up your virtue before her.
Sugugu hadn’t been shy about the fact you were the only one he was intimate with.
Turning his nose up and scoffing when you inquired about the status of their relationship, the same way Satoru did, as if it was simply absurd that they could ever have a baby together.
And now his royal advisors had started whispering suggestions that he should plant his seed in you instead, murmuring that if Satoru was too stubborn, he must secure his line another way as if you weren’t in the same room when they said it.
As if your loyalty hadn’t always lied with her.
But she wouldn’t listen to your warnings.
How were you supposed to convince two people who acted like they couldn’t stand each other to not only have sex, but create a child?
You knew you were a fool. Naive to still presume that there must be some way to make this work without making Satoru suffer. But you couldn’t stop trying.
“I would like you to leave,” Suguru snapped at her, and years of experience had engrained the instant impulse to protect her in you.
To interrupt and insist that she had every right to be here too.
Even if Satoru had never once needed you to defend her. Not the same way you needed her.
“Will you drag me out if I do not?” She cheekily returned, and you finally forced yourself to start to stir, to stop the argument already in progress as they both immediately fell silent. Satoru’s soft hand skimmed over your forearm, delicately dragging her fingertips up to your shoulder before yawning, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Morning,” you muttered, slowly cracking your eyes open and beginning to sit up just for a second hand to shift to the small of your back.
“Did she bother you with all her tossing and turning?” Your king asked, concern veiling his contempt for his wife as he peered down at you with those dark purple eyes. Devoid of the light you were used to seeking, swirling with something you weren’t quite comfortable enough to name.
Sometimes, you wondered how much he wanted you, and how much he wanted to piss her off. Equally unhappy at the situation he’d been thrusted in, forced to marry a stranger he didn’t know or want and finding refuge in pissing off the one person that was also innocent in this. Taking it out on her instead when he had no way to punish the system he was stuck in.
“Satoru never bothers me,” you answered honestly, still doing your best to mend the bridge between them as you peered up at him with an expression you hoped would earn some empathy from him.
Or at the very least, get him to not toss her out before she even stepped foot out of the bed.
“You’re too sweet,” he muttered, sitting up straighter to let the blankets fall down around his bare waist. Tenderly caressing your cheek as you stilled, thinking of what he seemed to leave unsaid. Too sweet for whom? Him? Or her?
You supposed you were just overthinking it, blinking nervously before he leaned down to kiss you on the lips right there in front of her, pushing his tongue in as you tried not to scrunch your nose up at the thought that he had yet to brush his teeth before slipping his tongue in your mouth.
But you returned it, accustomed to going with the tides instead of swimming against them, allowing him to possessively splay his fingers across your back as if Satoru’s fingers weren’t still sinking into your shoulder.
And by the time he pulled away, you had collected yourself enough to smile sincerely back at him when he rested his forehead against yours.
It wasn’t that you disliked him, or harbored any hatred for him.
The feeling swirling in your stomach was closer to pity. You felt bad for him.
He felt like a flip side to Satoru. Reminded you of her in his own strange way when he spoke to you like you were more than just a maid. Even if he only saw you as his own accessory instead of hers.
“Meet me in the gardens at noon,” he instructed, slipping out of his bed as you both stared. His back muscles flexed as he bent over, only throwing a look back to wink at you while Satoru made a quiet gagging noise next to you.
You nearly giggled, only holding it in when his dark brows pinched together in a glare back at her.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” you murmured, nodding dutifully as his chest puffed back out with pride. Finishing redressing quickly, his mouth twitching down at the two of you in his bed, but he didn’t say anything to disprove Satoru’s theory about men and beautiful women.
“Alone,” Suguru added, starting towards the door before Satoru could add something snarky.
The moment he was out the door, you could hear his voice calling through it for a servant, and you already pictured the way a few were likely stationed at the end of the hall, ready to accompany him and do whatever he wanted.
“Meet me in the gardens,” Satoru mimicked him, rolling her bright blue eyes as her long lashes fluttered dramatically as she twisted you back around to face her. “He’s so insufferable.”
“Satoru,” you said her name, face heating up at the way the syllables felt rolling off your tongue, still strange to address her so intimately when she was so far above you. “It worries me-”
“No,” she interrupted you sternly, your shoulders slumping at her unexpected scolding. “There is nothing for you to worry about.”
“But the two of you-”
“I know,” she sympathized, knowing what you were about to protest before you had to say it. Seeing through all of you the way no one else ever did, or probably ever would. “But you should just keep doing what he asks.”
Like you couldn’t see how much it hurt her to even suggest that.
Satoru was more sensitive than she’d ever show. Feelings hidden under her carefully crafted shield, always pretending to be the perfect princess on her towering pedestal, protected by some impenetrable glass that never let you touch her.
She could say she couldn’t stand Suguru. But who wouldn’t be hurt at the man they married so blatantly disrespecting them?
“I just want you to be happy,” you softly said.
“I will be. Eventually,” Satoru stiffly said, dragging her thumb over your bottom lip like she was wiping off his kiss. “We just have to grin and bear it for now.”
“And things will get better?” You hopefully asked, reaching up to clasp her hand. Feeling a little bit like a child again, looking up to her with blind trust, faith that she could fix problems that seemed far too big for you. Imagining all three of you a few months from now, getting along and grinning over lunch in the garden, sitting underneath the shade of an umbrella and snacking with Satoru on one side and Suguru on the other.
“I promise they will.”
There was nothing you craved more than for her to be correct.
But your blind belief in her started to fizzle and fade when the days refused to stop dragging on while you rarely got to see her. Only catching glimpses of her from across the room, usually when one of you was being flaunted on Suguru’s arm and the other was left to stand on the side and stare. Barely getting a chance to speak to her when the king you were both supposed to obey had decided you were better kept in your bed chambers or his private office, away from the wife he pretended didn’t exist around you.
You tried to tell yourself what she had.
To just bear it.
Comforting yourself with the handful of smiles she snuck you, reassuring yourself that you didn’t have to be wracked with guilt every second you spent with Suguru. That you shouldn’t hate yourself for the moments with him where you found yourself actually enjoying his company, or genuinely giggling at a joke he made.
It didn’t make it easier to stop loathing the parts of you that liked the attention. Being doted on and deemed deserving of more than just the monotony of being a maid.
Underneath it all, you still knew what was coming.
A girl like you was only measured by what uses she was good for.
Could taste his expectation in the air long before Suguru delivered the curdling news over tea, sitting there like a brainless doll as he informed you that he had the maids brew the kind that helped fertility.
Casually suggesting that you make a fine mother as you feigned agreement, running off to a bush to throw it up the moment he left to attend to other business.
You couldn’t do that to her.
No, you wouldn’t.
You refused.
It wasn’t like you had any idea how you would refuse, not when you were sure he would be back in your bedroom tonight. Stripping off his robes with that easy smirk of his, placing his crown on your head as he buried his cock in you, probably already planning on no longer pulling out but plunging himself deep enough to make sure the seed he planted was sowed.
That it would sprout into an heir he could use as an excuse to remove any power his wife politically held.
You puked again.
Bile rising that you couldn’t push down, getting sick until you finally managed to suck in enough deep breaths to pull yourself together, wiping the corner of your mouth and standing back up on trembling legs, looking around to make sure no one had seen you.
But a few maids were standing nearby, wide-eyed and whispering to each other before scampering off in a hurry once your stare caught theirs, surely off to spread rumors about what they’d seen.
You were stumbling away too, walking back inside the cobbled halls and hurrying through the twists and turns, ignoring the pointed looks you received from staff members and guards passing by. You weren’t sure where you were going until you were there, nervously tapping your knuckles against the door to Satoru’s office, hardly able to keep your breathing steady until you heard her call out in an annoyed tone, “Come in.”
You pushed it open, holding your breath as you peeked inside to see her head hanging down behind her desk. Her cheek resting on her hand, silky hair falling around her shoulders as she sighed and scribbled something into a thick book.
“What is it-”
“I’m sorry,” you half-whispered, your voice coming out as a croak from your sore throat.
She immediately stopped what she was writing as her head snapped up at the realization it was you, shutting the book and placing her palm over it. Her blue eyes were razor sharp, freezing over in a flash under furrowed brows.
“What happened?” She demanded to know without a pause. Ready to go to war with just two words.
“He wants me to have his heir,” you blurted out, still panicking as you looked to her like there was something she could do about it.
In all the years you’d known her, the only other time you’d seen the expression that was on her face now was the day you first met her.
Focused and flat at the same time, not betraying anything as she just blinked at you once more.
“Tell me you don’t want it,” she requested, completely serious as you struggled to tear your stare away.
“Of course I don’t,” you answered, shaking your head as your fingers nervously clutched at the skirt of your dress, fiddling with some of the fine embroidery as you struggled to catch your breath, the taste of vomit lingering in your mouth as you thought about what your life would look like a year from now if you did. A black-haired baby on your hip and a hole punctured straight through your heart.
You almost added that you had only come here for her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to when all that had resulted in was you warming her husband’s bed.
What would her life have been like had you stayed behind? Would you have been kicked out of the palace you’d spent years by her side in? Left to start over in some quaint village, maybe starting a small farm or working in a local shop instead?
You would choose any of it over being the reason she was suffering. Even if it meant struggling and scraping by all alone.
“I will take care of it,” she stiffly said, her nose upturned in the air as she pushed a plate of cookies someone had left on her desk away from her. “You should go now.”
A piece of you shattered.
Some deep internal wound ripping open at her quick dismissal, despite your instinct to believe that her words were more binding than any oath.
“But-”
“Trust me, princess,” she softened her tone, smiling now, like you couldn’t see how tight of a line her mouth made. Using a nickname she hadn’t called you in years, back when she tried to make you feel better about the difference in your status, late night promises that you could be her princess and she could be yours.
“Toru,” you murmured back, watching her eyes crinkle for a second before she shook her hair and pointed a delicate finger towards the door.
“Please leave,” she asked, and you had never been good at disobeying her.
Feeling like a mutt that had been thrown out in the rain, tail tucked between your legs as you walked all the way across the palace to your own chambers. Pacing the floor there in a panic, wringing your hands and wearing out the carpet as you tried to think of some solution.
Stupid nobles and their moronic obsession with bloodlines.
Why couldn’t they just adopt a child and raise it correctly?
You would have his child if Satoru asked you to. If she said she didn’t want to do it herself.
But you were scared for her. Terrified that she would somehow end up thrown out if you had an heir and she refused to.
Maybe it would be easier if one of them were less stubborn. If Satoru was less prideful and Suguru more agreeable.
Was that asking for the impossible?
Just an idiot jammed between a rock and a hard place and wondering why you couldn’t squeeze out?
You prepared yourself that evening anyway, going through the motions of putting on the thin style nightdress Suguru preferred, but picking one in a soft shade of blue that reminded you more of Satoru. Carefully applying a thin layer of makeup, exhaling at your reflection as you wondered to yourself where the girl from a few years ago had gone.
She probably would have strangled you for suggesting sleeping with Satoru’s king, no matter the circumstance.
And right now, you would give just about anything to go back to those days. Where the most important thing you had to worry about was how to style Satoru’s hair the next day, or what would be served for breakfast in the morning.
“You’re wearing blue.”
Your head turned to find Suguru standing there in the doorway, his lips turned down as his hazy stare slid over your body. You hurried to stand, forgoing spritzing the fancy perfume he gifted you across your skin as he strode over to you. Ready to fake moans and feign devotion.
“Is this not one you gave me?” You innocently asked, tilting your head to the side.
It wasn’t like you could purchase your own dresses.
Truthfully, you had no idea what even happened to the funds you saved up before Satoru brought you here. She had said she would take care of the transfer, but within days of coming here, you were being whisked off your feet and away from her by the man in front of you now.
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” he muttered, his fingers plucking one of the straps off your shoulder and pulling it down with a sigh as he ignored your inquiry. “I’m taking it off of you anyway.”
His hands shook while he removed it, his fingers unsteady for once as he tried to shimmy your panties down your thighs next. He kissed you, but the sour taste of wine was still on his lips, and you ached to pull away.
To ask him to reconsider what he wanted from you.
Even if you knew that wasn’t your place.
To your surprise though, he retreated first, your mouth still hanging open as he let out a low groan. You knew something was wrong at the sound of it. How guttural it came out when you hadn’t even touched his cock yet.
You blinked up at him only to see red.
Blood dripped down his lips as he stared at you without really seeing you, fear glittering his dark eyes empty in the candlelight as your own fingers reached out to wipe it away. Had you bitten him without realizing it? Was he hurt?
Before you could even touch it, he coughed hard, and your face was suddenly wet.
Your hand was still outstretching towards him the moment he collapsed.
Someone screamed, but it wasn’t until servants began running into the room that you realized the horrible sound was coming from you, ripped from the back of your throat as the scene immediately morphed into a mess. Maids shouting for doctors and rushing around to try and stop the bleeding that was still pouring from his mouth, propping him up. But even if his eyes were open, they weren’t blinking.
Had his soul already separated from the still shell he left behind?
Something damp hit your palm, your fuzzy vision struggling to focus as it belatedly struck you that you were still dripping with the red, your palms shaking, refusing to stop twitching at the unnerving sight of it.
Steady drops begging to drop down to your bare breasts, staining your skin as you stumbled back, running from the inevitable as your shattered gasps wouldn’t allow enough air into your lungs.
This wasn’t happening.
It couldn’t be.
This must be a nightmare. Some awful dream you’d gotten dragged into as you tried to wake yourself back up, desperately wiping your face as you struggled to get it clean, but nothing was working. Nothing was changing.
Hyperventilating as a maid shouted, calling in guards while your back hit the wall, your fingers trembling as you buried your face in your hands, as if you could hide from what was happening.
“Is he still alive?”
No. No no no.
If he was gone, what the hell would happen to you?
There were too many people in the room, too much going on for you to focus on what was happening in front of you. Your ears filling you in no matter how much you desperately wanted to shut it all out.
To rewind the clock, even if it was just for a few minutes. Bring it back to where everything was still normal.
The palace doctor arrived out of breath as you peeked back up at your world unraveling only to find him shaking his head as he checked the limp body on the floor’s pulse.
You knew it before he said it though. Had from the moment he coughed and collapsed.
“The king is dead.”
The only person in power now was his wife.
Someone was probably on their way to get Satoru now, to shake her awake from her bed and notify her that her husband was no longer among the living.
Even if you didn’t want to have his baby, you still never would have chosen this.
Curling up with your bare knees to your chest, staring at your blood-splattered blue nightdress left in a crumpled pile on the floor, eyes wild as you watched people rush in and out.
Guards filing in, one of them ripping you up from off the ground with a rough grip on your arm, barking some question you didn’t understand as you tried to shake your head, dragging you out of the room as you got one last glimpse at Suguru’s still form staring up at the ceiling.
“Did you do this?”
“What?” You blinked, turning back with disgust as you rebuffed it. “I-I wouldn’t-”
The guard wasn’t listening, pulling you out only for you to nearly run into someone else.
Your pounding heart stopped the second you realized it was Satoru.
Her pretty face pinched up with disdain, long hair loose and cascading down her back, an intricate amethyst-colored gown draping over the cobbled hall as she looked down at you, her mouth twitching as her gaze drifted across your exposed skin.
You were about to beg her to tell them that it couldn’t have been you, bottom lip trembling as you tried to get the words out, but she cut you off, looking to the knight by her side as she solemnly shook her head.
“Lock her up.”
She couldn’t mean it.
It honestly felt more far-fetched than Suguru’s sudden death. Unable to understand those three sharp words that left her lips until another man was yanking you away, pulling you down corridors.
Humiliation burned through you as the initial shock started to fade and the reality of your situation began to sit in. Being dragged naked across the palace until you were led up a long spiralling staircase to a tower you’d never stepped foot inside before.
Spared the cruelty of the cold dungeons only to be shoved inside a tiny room at the top, a heavy door slammed shut as your eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. A barren space with only a small bed pushed against the wall, a small window that was only big enough for you to peek out of, the bitter night breeze blowing in through it as you stood there, waiting for, well, you weren’t sure what.
Satoru to show up and swear this was all some awful joke? To tell you that she didn’t mean to scare you and that everything was fine? That this was all a part of some plan of hers?
Wishful thinking, wasn’t it?
If they thought you were responsible, that you somehow killed him, you would be executed within a month.
Maybe not even offered a trial, just dragged out to be hanged or beheaded without a chance to defend yourself.
Who would have sympathy for a traitor?
A poor maid masquerading as a concubine, one who truly should have never had a place beneath the king to begin with.
All you were was an ignorant idiot that was born to take the blame. No matter your innocence.
And yet, when you finally heard footsteps approaching your lonely room, you were still rushing towards it, ready to plead your case to whoever showed up.
When you heard Satoru’s voice, you nearly sobbed.
She must be coming to let you out. To explain everything away and bring you back to her room the way she once had. Whisk you away and remind you with that charming smile that she had told you not to worry.
Satoru wasn’t your knight in shining armor. She was better.
A hero with her white-haired halo, your blue-eyed angel in a gossamer gown.
“Toru, please,” you called out, peeking up to discover a rectangle carved out of the thick wood of the door, wide enough for you to look back out into the barely-lit hallway.
“Make sure no one comes up here,” Satoru coldly instructed the knights outside, your heart stalling as you stared at her through that thin slat. The heavy click of several additional locks followed while her sharp eyes watched you back, your heart shattering into even tinier bits with each one.
And then Satoru did something that stomped on all the remaining shards of it.
She left.
You broke down, sobbing on the floor until there wasn’t anything left in you to cry out. Curling up on the frigid ground instead of the bed, unable to even summon the strength to get up and crawl towards it.
At some point, you supposed you fell asleep like that, because when you woke up to a fraction of the sun slipping in through your tiny window, there were clothes and food delivered, along with a cold bucket of water and a washrag.
Too numb to feel thankful, as if someone had scooped every part of you out as you ignored the food in front of you, about to cup a handful of water and drink it before you looked down at your hands and saw all the dried blood still staining them, your stomach shifting once again as the memory of Suguru’s face before he died floated up in your brain.
You scrubbed your skin, washing Suguru off of you until the bucket had run red, staring at the liquid sloshing around. Refusing to stop until you were certain there were no traces of him left, your hands raw and trembling when you dropped the rag back down.
Putting clothes back on didn’t make you feel any better.
Not when you had traded the fancy dresses you had just begun to get used to for a plain one, the material scratching your skin as you finally managed to get yourself up into the bed.
But even just trying to go back to sleep didn’t work when a knight came barging in to conduct an interrogation.
Which essentially just meant hours of him asking the same questions and getting angry when you kept giving him the same answers?
“Did you conspire to kill the king?” No.
“Did you poison him?” No.
“Did you have any reason to want him dead?” Yes. No.
It didn’t matter what you said though.
As long as it didn’t align with what he was hoping to hear, he wouldn’t give any of your words credence.
And by the end of it, you were being dragged back to your cell, waiting for a fate far worse than simply being the mother of the future heir to the kingdom.
Even if you used to think there was nothing worse than betraying Satoru.
Being abandoned by her was the cruelest sentence of all.
A raw throbbing ache taking up residence in your chest, reminding you of her absence with every short breath you sucked in, no blankets to curl up and hide under as you waited for the inevitable.
You knew what the cold felt like. How brittle it could be when it settled into your bones. Knew how starvation felt when your body started to break down bits of yourself for sustenance.
But knowing her warmth, how full she could make you feel, only ate at you more. Shoved off the pretty pedestal she placed you on, no longer sparkling or polished as you stared at your bitten-down nails and numbly craved pieces of her you knew would never be yours.
Perhaps this was punishment for dreaming too big.
For ever thinking that you could have her while you were still catering to Suguru.
A day passed.
And another.
The hours slipping past you in a dull daze, food delivered that you refused to take a bite of. A little voice in your head that was quickly growing delirious suggested that it could be poisoned, and it was the only thing that tempted you into taking a small bite.
But then you thought of the fear in Suguru’s eyes when he died, and you dropped it again, returning to your uncomfortable bed, curling up to stare at the same wall you’d been studying the cracks in since you first crawled into it.
You were losing it.
About to start speaking to yourself just to stop the silence from driving you crazy, only your thoughts to keep you company as you tossed and turned, no energy left in your exhausted limbs as you tried to think of all the ways this could end.
Unable to come up with a way out of this when the only person you ever found worth living for had decided you weren’t worth it anymore.
Satoru had told you to trust her.
But you never had anything to offer her other than loyalty.
And what good was that when you would’ve had her husband’s baby if he hadn’t died?
She must hate you.
“Oh, princess.”
Great.
You had lost it.
Were you hearing things now? Sanity slipping away with every day you decided not to eat?
“Won’t you at least look at me?” Satoru’s sweet voice called out to you.
You weren't going to, stubbornly keeping your head forward until you heard the locks actually unlatching. Sitting up on the thin mattress and turning just in time to see the door opening, and your angel returning to you.
An easy smile curling up on her glossy lips, her ethereal eyes sparkling in the fading light of the day drifting in from outside, a white dress softly fluttering around her frame as she leaned against the wall like she was waiting for you to get down on your knees and thank her.
“I didn’t do it,” you breathed, almost automatically.
You needed her to believe-
“Sweetheart,” she softly shook her head as she sighed. “I know.”
Then why did she throw you in a tower and lock you up like this? Leave you a broken mess, laid bare and bloody?
“I just had to take care of a few things,” Satoru cooed.
You didn’t move. Couldn’t.
Unable to speak when you stared at her, feeling like a stranger in your own skin as you studied her back.
“Did you think I would just let you rot?” She teased, as if you weren’t still a prisoner while she tilted her head to the side, appraising you like you were some fruit she had finally decided to pluck.
It hurt.
A small wound ripping open beneath the surface, one you were quick to bandage up and come up with excuses for.
Almost immediately telling yourself that surely, she came to you as soon as she could, relief washing over the fresh sting at the realization she truly didn’t think you were behind Suguru’s death. That she hadn’t abandoned you after all.
“Don’t just sit there and stare at me,” she huffed, sick of your silence, folding her arms across her chest and frowning at you.
“Toru?” You croaked out her name, wanting to trust that it still had a place on your lips as you waited for her to disappear. Standing up on unsteady legs, muscles sore from how little you’d used them lately as you took unsure steps forward. A piece of you still convinced that you might be imagining this, or drifted off to some pretty dream where she played the same role she always did.
Your savior.
But when you got to her, hesitantly reaching out to touch her face, your fingertips trembling as you touched her cheek to discover it was solid.
Soft.
“I missed you too,” she murmured affectionately, reaching up to hold your hand there. Relaxing into your touch as you felt something inside you instantly crumble at the tiniest show of regard.
And before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around her neck, tears welling up as you inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume, burying your face in her throat as a rough sob escaped you.
She let you.
Didn’t push you off or give you that look like you had overstepped some boundary.
No, she just slid a hand over your back, holding you closer and letting you cry into her collarbone. Stroking your hair, slowly picking out the tangles and knots in it as your body shuddered with the force of your tears.
You didn’t think you had anything left in you to cry.
But apparently there you weren’t dried out yet, and she held you through all of it. Murmuring soft words into your ear, coaxing you to calm down as you struggled to piece yourself back together after you let it all fall apart.
“I swear, I would never do anything that could put you at risk,” you added, anxiety still swirling around your thoughts as you shook your head.
“Don’t worry,” Satoru purred, squeezing you as another shudder wracked through your body. “The right person will be imprisoned soon.”
As terrible as it sounded, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care who had done it, or even why, as long as it meant you and Satoru would be safe.
The rest was just noise.
You could go back to being her maid. Waiting on her hand and foot if it meant you wouldn’t have to be away from her side again.
And if the court tried to take her crown, or shipped her back to her own palace after the rightful king had been killed, well, you both could get through it together, couldn’t you?
“I thought you left me,” you mumbled, your voice cracking as she tenderly hummed your name.
“I would never,” she swore, petting your head as she pulled you into her chest, your shoulders slumping at how tightly she held you.
“Promise?” You hopefully asked, needing to know. Needing her to say she wasn’t going anywhere.
Simply needing her.
“I promise.”
You believed her with just two words.
Under her spell in a handful of moments, your heart pounding in your chest when she eventually pulled away, cupping your face and wiping away your tears like it hurt for her to see you crying.
“Come with me,” she spoke slowly, her thumb skimming lightly over your cheekbone.
You would follow her anywhere.
Across the kingdom. To another, or even over the sea to some small countryside village. Any place was fine.
As long as she wanted you there.
Skipping down the long stairs after her, your pulse thrumming in your eardrums as you waited to get stopped by some guard, for a knight to pop up and point a sword at you for absconding with their queen.
No one else was around however, the halls barren and silent as her soft fingers interlaced through yours, tugging you ahead as she navigated through them with ease.
“Were you starving yourself for my attention?” She half-whispered, her voice hushed and husky as she threw you a look you didn’t understand.
Was she disappointed in you?
“I haven’t been hungry,” you mumbled, shaking your head. You never thought she’d come check on you. Or even be keeping tabs through whoever came to drop off the food for you.
“That’s no excuse,” she softly scolded you.
“I’m sorry,” you automatically apologized, hanging your head lower as she opened a door and ushered you into a room you’d never been in before.
It looked like it was actually fit for a princess.
Ornately designed and filled with expensive furniture you couldn’t fathom the cost of, your body freezing just two short steps inside as she shut the door behind you. Quickly making herself comfortable, slipping off her short heels and walking over to the massive bed against one wall, looking back at you with barely concealed excitement, searching your face to see if you shared
“You can stay here for now,” she whispered, winking at you as she ran her palm over the soft fabric of the blankets adorning the bed. “It’ll be our secret.”
Your secret.
The words echoed in your head, unable to shut your open mouth as you struggled to take your eyes off of her.
“Much better than that dingy tower, hm?” Satoru goaded, pride glittering in her brilliant stare.
“What is this?” You asked, looking around at the intricate tapestries hung on the walls, the plush carpets laid over the floor, the carvings into the wooden dressers and the canopy of the bed.
“Your room,” she happily hummed.
“My-” You couldn’t even say it out loud.
It had to be a joke.
“There’s a warm bath waiting for you,” she murmured, nodding towards an adjoining door you’d been too overwhelmed to notice before. “And some fresh fruit on a platter by the tub. Your favorites.”
What were you meant to make of this?
Her belated apology for locking you up for days? For leaving you behind to handle affairs far bigger than you?
Something itched at the back of your conscience, telling you to second guess this gift.
But how were you supposed to listen to your better judgement when everything left of your sensibility had been broken?
“Please eat something,” she added, and all you could do was nod your head like a moron.
“I will,” you dutifully answered.
Who were you to disobey your queen?
“Do you need help getting out of that?” She asked, glancing towards your dress, nose wrinkling at the dirt on it before she dusted herself off like perhaps you’d gotten her filthy too.
“No, I can do it,” you insisted, slipping into the bathroom before you could somehow end up even more self-conscious.
But your muscles were already aching for relief, a throbbing pain beginning in your shoulder when you lifted your dress up and over your head.
One that was thankfully soothed by the still warm water in the tub, a welcome relief to the frigid water buckets you’d been sticking using the last few days. Flower petals floating on the surface, bath salts mixed in as you sank yourself in neck-deep.
True to her word, there was a platter of food set up by the tub, and you forced yourself to take a few bites, nibbling on just enough to satisfy her request.
Satoru was trying to take care of you.
Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
Offering your shoulder for her to cry or cling to after her husband died horrifically?
Of course, you knew she didn’t like him. Or well, more accurately, she loathed him. But his passing put her in a precarious position, her own life most likely hanging in the balance when she had no heir to guarantee her safety or status here.
You didn’t know what she was going to do.
Which also meant you had no idea what you were going to do.
A piece of you wished you were born a man. That you’d been given the chance or opportunity to learn swordsmanship, or got to train with the knights. That you would be able to protect Satoru, shield her from these petty and cruel court politics instead of getting caught in the crossfire.
Washing yourself of the last few days did not help quell your feelings of inadequacy, or solve a single one of your problems, no matter how soothing it was to soak and scrub yourself clean properly this time.
You didn’t linger in the tub.
No matter how much you might have liked to, a far greater part of you longed to be around Satoru. Craving her company after you’d been deprived of her presence for so long. You wanted to curl up in her lap like you used to, back when you were children and she’d be the one to comfort you over every skinned knee and scraped elbow.
Stepping out of the tub with a heavy sigh, squinting when you discovered something wasn’t quite right.
“Toru?” You called out, glancing around the small room searching for something that was evidently forgotten. “There’s no towel.”
Or change of clothes.
Nothing but your discarded dress from before to cover up, although you weren’t exactly inclined to pick it back up.
You thought she’d just open the door and toss something to put on.
Not just swing the door open and saunter in a second later, not even blinking as her eyes swept over your bare form. Lingering on the swell of your breasts and the way the water droplets were still rolling down between them.
“The maid must have forgotten,” she hummed, dragging her stare off of you to do a courtesy sweep of the room. “Give me a moment.”
You were overthinking it.
Nodding obediently as you glanced down at your legs, shuffling on your feet as heat rose to your cheeks, thankful for the soft thud of the door shutting.
She returned a couple minutes later, a towel in one arm and a white gown that looked an awful lot like a short version of her own in the other, passing both to you with that practiced smile of hers she usually saved for when she was up to something.
“There you go,” Satoru chirped. “I’ll wait for you.”
It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen you naked before.
But this felt decidedly different.
And you didn’t know what to do about the strange fluttering in your stomach at the idea of her watching you dress, at the way her eyes had drifted so dangerously slowly over the shape of you.
Was this a dream?
Were you still asleep? Still stuck in that tower?
Wishing for something you had never once been able to admit to yourself that you wanted?
You took an extra few minutes to dry off, adjusting the way the dress hung over you five times too many before you paused to brush your teeth in the mirror, avoiding your reflection as you spit in the sink, watching the tinged pink drool disappear with a soft exhale.
Satoru was pristine. Pure.
And what were you?
You opened the door, fiddling with the hem of the dress she’d given you as you nearly ran straight into where she was waiting right outside of it.
“I was getting worried,” she lightly joked, and you were brushing past her, a painful surge of panic bubbling back up.
“Why are you doing this for me?” You asked, hyper aware of how undeserving you were as you padded barefoot back into the overwhelmingly lovely room. “It’s too much, I-”
“You should know by now that nothing is too much for me when it comes to you,” Satoru chided with a soft chuckle. Refusing to let you step away from her, grabbing your wrist before you could slip away.
She was so close.
That familiar scent of her lulling you back in, daring you to breathe her in again.
And god, you wanted to.
Satoru said your name, and before you knew what you were doing, you were leaning up on your tip toes and pressing your lips to hers, impulsively planting a kiss to her strawberry-flavored mouth.
You knew within half a second that you shouldn’t have done it, but you couldn’t stop yourself, deepening it as your fingertips tenderly grazed her impossibly perfect skin. It took every ounce of self restraint for you to pull away from her, shaking your head as you tried not to cry at the thought you would never get to do that again.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, immediately wishing you could take it back, sure that she would throw you back in the tower for the crime of presuming you could possibly deserve anything as sweet as her lips. “I shouldn’t have-”
But before you could so much as finish your sentence, Satoru was cupping your face and pulling you back in, her nose nestling against yours as her blue eyes sparkled with something you’d never seen in them before.
“Do it again.”
ε✿з
You were kissing her.
For a moment, Satoru was sure she had died and this was heaven.
How often had she scrawled into diaries her deepest dreams of getting to experience the taste of you on her tongue?
Your gentle hands on her face and your heaving chest pressed against hers, lips slipping between her own with desperate affection.
You. Desperate. For her.
Her brain only conjuring her small words and short sentences, too overwhelmed by the sensation of your soft mouth to think straight.
God, you tasted so good.
Fruity and sweet at the same time, your delicate fingers sifting through her hair as you let out the quietest squeak Satoru immediately wanted to hear over and over, sure she’d never get sick of the sound.
And behind the lovestruck haze, a jealous voice scoffed that she should’ve killed Suguru far sooner for getting to taste you like this first.
Slipped the poison in his cup the moment he set his sights on you and made his intent to steal you clear.
Of course, cleaning it up would’ve been much messier, but red hot jealousy coiled and cut through all her cold logic when she thought of his massive mitts manhandling you instead of treating you like the rare flower you really were.
Satoru was the one who spent her life watering you, taking care to tend to the soil and fertilize it, making sure you’d bloom so beautifully for her, and he tried to rip your roots out like you wouldn’t just wither away without her.
“Satoru,” you whispered her name, sucking in a sharp breath as you pulled back, eyes shining with surprise.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you,” she swallowed hard, spit pooling in the back of her mouth.
From the day you looked up at her like some wounded lamb, you had been hers.
Perhaps it had just taken a little separation for you to see that too.
“You were waiting for me?” You repeated, that dazed, dreamy look in your eyes as you looked up at her, as if you thought she was going to change her mind.
“My heart has always been yours,” she proclaimed, although the confession she used to imagine came out far more shaky than it had in her head. Not nearly as cool or collected or calm as she pictured when your cheek was so warm beneath her palm.
Praying that you wouldn’t change your mind now that she had no way to take back the words.
“But I’m-” You were about to put yourself down. To diminish the light inside you that she loved so much.
“You’re mine.”
And no one else’s now.
Before you could protest, claim something silly about the difference in your status, she was pulling you back onto the bed, your form landing on top of hers as the feathered mattress cushioned the fall. You tried to wiggle back, but Satoru simply gripped your waist, refusing to let you budge as she pushed her bottom lip out in a pout you immediately softened for.
“Say it for me,” she requested.
“I have always belonged to you,” you acquiesced, and Satoru wanted to bury herself inside of your heart to make sure there really was no space for anyone else inside of it.
That it was wholly hers the way you already occupied every nook and crevice of her body and brain.
She was craning her neck up to kiss you again, your mouth meeting hers a little slower, more hesitation creeping in as your body began to melt against her. A possessive hand sliding up your spine, already annoyed at the fabric separating your skin from hers.
Needing to feel you properly, for your soft flesh to dimple beneath her fingers, to leave lovebites scattered across every inch of you that you offered.
“It killed me to see you with him,” she muttered, chest seizing at how vulnerable the confession came out.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, shaking your head before she abruptly flipped you over, pinning you beneath her and pushing your dress up to expose-
Oh fuck.
Was every part of you so pretty?
Your pussy glistening as she nudged your thighs further apart, her pulse pounding in her ears as she finally got to see all of you up close. Presented perfectly for her, your nose scrunched up like you might be scared she could possibly find something wrong with you instead of being awestruck by the simple sight of you splayed out for her.
She might not have a cock, but Satoru was sure she could make you cum hard enough to forget about any petty insecurities that might be plaguing you.
“Take your gown off,” Satoru instructed, only realizing how stern it came out when you faltered, hesitating as you bit your bottom lip. “Please.”
Before she had to break down and beg for you to strip.
Satoru sat up and started lifting off her own dress as well, watching the way your eyes hung onto the heave of her breasts, how they kept shyly flickering back up to her face as your fingers slowly moved to remove the fabric.
You weren’t girls anymore.
Not kids playing husband and wife, or king and queen.
Exploring each other for keeps, hands tepidly traveling across hips and thighs and breasts at first, although it didn’t take much time for the touches to turn needy.
Hungry for something you’d both been starving yourselves of for years.
Could you really blame Satoru for not being able to stop herself?
For hooking one of those soft thighs of yours over her shoulder and dragging her tongue along the inside of it before the last little tendril of self-control she possessed snapped?
She had to have you.
Slipping two fingers inside you slowly, feeling the way you squeezed around her digits, your mouth forming a delicious little ‘o’ she wanted to kiss again. Already shaking before she even began to swirl her fingers around inside of you, barely able to contain the heat rolling through her core just watching your reactions as she pushed in deeper.
You whimpered, and every single thing that led up to this in Satoru’s life was suddenly worth it.
The mocking, the marriage, every mistake she made on this meandering path, she’d do all of it again if you were waiting for her at the end of it.
Your lips swollen and kiss-bruised as you let out soft sounds of pleasure that were because of her. Your naked form shivering in the same bed as you reached down to run your fingers through her hair, holding it back as she found herself half-delirious with lust she couldn’t hold back.
Slotting in a third finger the second she thought you could take it, watching your eyes widen and start to water as they rolled back, your hips bucking up to drive her fingers as deep as possible.
“My princess can take more,” she purred, spreading you further apart, greedy eyes gazing on your stripped bare body, the thin sheen of sweat sticking to your skin as you moaned her name.
“S-S’toru,” you cried out, and she was a little tempted to just do this for hours and count how many times she could make you say it precisely like that.
Satoru must have imagined this moment a million times. What your face would look like all scrunched up, how you would shiver and shake as she swirled her fingers in, feeling for all those sensitive spots that had you immediately trying to squirm and wiggle away.
Pushing and pressing into them while she pleaded for you to stay put in her sultriest voice.
“Be a good girl for me,” she hummed, and you nodded, loyal as ever. Itching to please her as badly as she wanted to please you. “Let me love you.”
Let her hold you.
Fuck you.
Make you cum as many times as you could in a single night and then give her the rest of them. All your nights. All your days. Everything.
Satoru had always been greedy.
And you satiated her sweet tooth more than anything else ever did.
Sinking her teeth into the inside of your thighs just because she could, feeling your muscles twitch and spasm as you gasped, caught off guard.
You didn’t stop her.
No, you let her bite and lick and kiss, her mouth latching onto your swollen clit, swirling the tip of her tongue over it as you let out a raw noise. As if someone had just ripped it from your stomach, pulled it out of you too fast for you to soften it.
Her fingers continued to thrust in while she nipped at your clit, just for your body to confirm what she suspected by clenching around her hand like you wanted to trap it in there. You were cumming for her already.
She’d seen you do it with Suguru.
But this one was so much more visceral, no dramatic or drawn-out moan, just your body melting into a puddle for her to mold as you fell apart for her.
You were shuddering, limbs trembling, as you tried to pull her back by her hair.
But you had never been good at telling her no.
Even when she was driving you right to the brink of overstimulation, and then pushing you well past it, greedily sucking on that sensitive bud, pressing her tongue flat against it as she pumped her fingers in-and-out, finding a steady rhythm to ruin you too.
Satoru had never had sex before. Her purity protected well into the marriage she was supposed to save it for. No experience of her own to truly compare this too. But she’d touched herself and pretended it was you enough times to have an idea of what would make you unravel just right.
Operating on instinct, on need, peering up at you from her position between your thighs as pretty tears welled up in your eyes. Satoru wanted to soothe your ache, to kiss them away and drag her tongue over the streaks they left on your cheeks.
Perhaps she should’ve planned a little better, found something bigger to stick in you, to make you moan and murmur for mercy with, watching you fall apart while she teased and toyed with your body now that you had finally given yourself fully to her.
You were so beautiful like this.
Being brought to the heights of pleasure, worshipped the way you should’ve been from the start, her tongue and fingers working together as she clumsily made out with you, only pulling off to drag the thick muscle over your slick folds for a better taste.
“I-I-” You hiccuped, your voice half an octave too high as your thighs clamped down around her head, your own thrown back as you wiggled your hips, chasing a second climax. “I c-can’t-”
“You can,” Satoru hummed, rubbing her own thighs together to soothe the aching need between them. “Want you to cum for me again, princess.”
You wouldn’t deny her.
You never did.
Desperately groaning as you gave in, sweat making both your bodies sticky as you tried to not to tug too hard at her hair, still holding back to not hurt her as you crumbled into a crying mess. Tears slipping out that she was quick to climb back on top of you and wipe away, kissing your lips to swallow your whines, enjoying the way you fit so nicely beneath her until you started to come back down.
“You look so pretty like this,” she softly complimented, tracing her thumb over your lip, already missing your kiss the moment your mouths were apart.
“Toru,” you whispered her name, and she was sure that she would never get sick of hearing it. Far fucking better than the way you used to say Suguru.
“Mhm?” She hummed, chewing on the inside of her cheek as you stared straight through her. That fuzzy look in your eyes fading as understanding replaced the daze.
Like you’d suddenly gained some clarity.
“It was you, was it?” You asked, and you didn’t need to say what when you were both well aware of what you were accusing her of.
Were you really just now considering it?
Was your judgement clouded from your unconditional love? So devoted that you were deluding yourself into ignoring the obvious?
“No,” Satoru lied, still in the habit of hiding the truth if it meant sparing your feelings. Refusing to lose you after she just got you. “It wasn’t me.”
ε✿з
You were flying far too close to the sun.
You knew that somewhere deep inside of you as Satoru snuggled against your collarbone, her warmth wrapped around you as she burned you up. Her scorching touch seared into your skin as she refused to let even an inch separate the two of you.
Sooner or later, your wings were going to fail you, and send you tumbling out of the sky back to the ground.
Would she catch you when you crashed?
Or would you be left to stare up at her until she was just a beautiful bird flying high out of your reach?
All you were doing was damning yourself by dreaming of a happy ending with her.
You guessed you should just be grateful for what you had while you had it.
That she hadn’t cut your tongue out for daring to slip it between her lips.
It hadn’t been the first time you had thought about it.
But even entertaining the idea of her choosing you had always been so preposterous you pushed your budding feelings down deep, refusing to let them devour you no matter how often she occupied your dreams.
Your life had been built around the pristine pedestal you placed her on.
Your world revolved around her smile, her laugh, hearing your twinkling voice in your ear and feeling her soft fingers brushing over your skin.
Everything you’d ever done had been for her.
So why did it feel like you’d just gone from warming one ruler’s sheets to another?
As if you were just in her bed for the comfort she brought, the security of her position.
You hoped she wouldn’t think that. That she understood that if she asked you to run away with her today, you would accept without hesitation.
Next to her now, her sleepy eyes fluttering open as she hummed your name, it just made you think of how stupid you were not to have been doing this all along. For not seeing this for what it was sooner.
“You’ll be safe here,” Satoru murmured, snuggling against you as you rolled onto your side. Keeping herself glued to you, her lips lingering on your skin with a content sigh.
“What happens next?” You murmured, watching the morning sun beginning to rise through the stained glass window, slowly chasing the dark away as your personal sunshine faltered for a moment.
“They’re still investigating his passing,” she mumbled, refusing to say Suguru’s name. Or call it for what it must have been. An assassination someone wanted to make you the scapegoat for. “You haven’t been officially cleared yet.”
And still, she’d showed up for you, hadn’t she?
“But I will be?” You hopefully asked, your heart thrumming at the thought of this being ripped from you too.
“Nothing will happen to you,” she swore.
You had given her your heart. Your soul. Your body.
Those were all you really had to offer.
But handing her your trust?
That was…tricky.
Especially when she wouldn’t offer any more details about your detainment as the minutes melted into hours and the hours twisted into days that just kept passing.
In the dark moments, a cold voice suggested that you should at least consider the chance she could have done it. Orchestrated it from the shadows. But she had told you she hadn’t.
She would’ve confessed it if she had.
Suguru had his fair share of enemies. Disgruntled rulers from other kingdoms, angry nobles and dukes who wanted more power than he allowed.
It wasn’t like it was outrageous that one of them had grown sick of his antics and took matters into their own hands.
So you tried to be content too, Satoru trading your tower for more comfortable quarters, her trusted knights stationed outside the room you caught glimpses at when she slipped in-and-out, leaving you to attend to her duties most days.
She brought you meals, insisting on hand feeding you half the time, murmuring under her breath that you couldn’t be trusted to do it yourself before she had you for dessert. Hands spreading your thighs apart as she lapped and licked you up, refusing to pull off until you had cum on her tongue or come undone with her fingers, falling apart for her to mend back together.
Still, it had started to feel like you were becoming more a part of her schedule than like her partner.
Perhaps that was wishing too much though.
Wanting more than you had any right to ask for.
At the end of the day, you would still always be a maid in everyone’s eyes.
Her pet.
Her people wouldn’t exactly be pleased to know that their queen was more interested in women than securing another king or providing them an heir?
Were you a price she was willing to pay for political control? Would there come a day where she would remarry another man?
Was it already being arranged while you wasted weeks lounging around in her bed and longing for her to join you, smelling her scent on the pillow and aching for her return?
The worst part was how Satoru was so hesitant to let you hold her, doing everything on her terms as she came up with excuse after excuse to keep your hands either bound behind your back or tethered in her hair instead of tracing over her soft skin.
Did she think you were too dirty?
That you would stain her supple flesh if you so much as squeezed her close?
No matter how much it stung, you still shoved down your discomfort. Told yourself that you should be grateful for what she was giving you and ignore how much she withheld.
You had to plead with her just to be allowed to visit her office during the days to keep yourself from going insane. A trusted knight always had to accompany you there, a shawl hiding your face as they carefully took you there when no one else would be around. She stocked extra books for you, a basket left next to one of the armchairs with embroidery supplies, sometimes making you write letters for her that she couldn’t care to do herself to foreign kingdoms and nobles to settle their unrest.
And after a month, you began to settle.
Setting aside old foolish hopes and accepting your new routine.
Waiting for her to join you in her office, curling up in one of the other chairs as you tried to tell yourself that she’d come back soon. She had run off to attend some important meeting, patting your head and telling you that it was nothing when you tried to ask what it was about.
So what if it made you feel a little pathetic for waiting around like a poor puppy dog abandoned by her owner?
Satoru would return to you.
And she made all of it worth it.
Your body was beginning to fall asleep though, pins and needles pricking your limbs when you stood to shake it off, walking around in a circle and wondering if you were just destined to be on her leash before you decided to slump yourself in her chair instead.
It smelled like her.
Your body relaxing at the scent, already trained as your eyes skimmed over her cluttered desk space, papers strewn around from the hurry she left in before.
Curiosity pricking at you as you found yourself slowly opening up drawers and peeking inside to see if there was anything interesting hiding from you. And slipped underneath thick ledgers and blank papers was a plain black leather-bound notebook you’d seen her writing in before.
You pulled it out, a not-at-all small piece of you hoping that maybe it was a secret diary as you started flipping through it, that you’d find your own name scribbled down with hearts drawn next to it.
It turned out your name was there.
But it was the words that were with it that sent your stomach through the floor.
The contents of it were cold.
Sharp. Each word punctuated so deeply that the ink bled between the pages.
The confirmation that she loved you was there. Just sandwiched between white hot anger that someone else had gotten to touch you first. To fuck you in the bed you belonged in with her.
Queasiness slowly building in your core, something thick and slimy coiling around your heart as you skipped from the earlier entries to the more recent ones, knowing what was coming before you found the entry for the day Suguru died.
And there in between the lines, the truth stared back at you.
She had dinner with Suguru.
Shared a meal together right before he went to join you that she never once mentioned to you.
No.
This couldn’t be right.
Satoru couldn’t have-
Or well, if she did, she wouldn’t have framed you for it.
She loved you.
Swore that you were hers and that she’d never let anything awful happen to you again. The idea that she’d put you through hell just to have you all to herself was crippling.
Maybe she didn’t outright admit that she’d done it, maybe you still didn’t know precisely how, but you knew it was her with a scary sort of certainty.
Your body freezing as you read and reread the five short lines in front of you detailing her evening, forcing yourself to turn the page and read ahead, to see her absolutely unaffected as she offered just a single line about Suguru dying. Images of his face, that awful look in his eyes before he collapsed floating back up as you choked on the stomach-churning memory of him.
An awful thought crept in that she left it here for you to find. That some part of her hoped you’d be nosey enough to snoop and come across it.
For you to see all of her.
Was it a test?
Her attempt to see if your devotion to her was strong enough to stay despite what she’d done.
You closed the book, shoving it back where you found it and standing up as the knowledge started to sink in, to seep through and cast a darker shade on your days together as you rushed to return to your chair.
What if it had all been designed to keep you firmly in your place beneath her? Confined to her chambers and chained to her heart?
Didn’t she already know she didn’t need to do any of it for you to stay?
The door opened with a creak, and you were reopening the forgotten book you’d been reading before you found the forbidden one.
“Hi, beautiful,” Satoru greeted as she walked over, bending over to press a soft kiss on your cheek before breezing past to her desk.
“Hi, Toru,” you echoed, pretending to be absorbed in the book in your hands, hoping she wouldn’t notice you were holding it upside down.
You closed it, placing it in your lap as you looked up at her with easy obedience, praying she wouldn’t pay any mind to the suspicion now lingering underneath it.
“Was I gone long?” She earnestly asked as she slid into her seat, scooting it up close to her desk and leaning across it as her blue eyes focused solely on your face.
“It felt like it,” you confessed, swallowing hard.
“I must make it up to you tonight then,” your Toru teased, her perfectly cruel mouth curling up as she delivered a cute wink.
She did make it up to you.
But it didn’t make you forget what you found.
What were you meant to do about it?
Pretend you hadn’t? Pray that no one else would ever discover what you had?
You wished she would abandon this. Abdicate the throne and take you away somewhere warm.
But it was Satoru.
Hadn’t you learned already she refused to give up anything once it was hers?
The privilege, the power, the promise of a gold gilded future with you waiting on her.
She would never let it go.
It was you that didn’t know how to move forward. That could figure out where to go from here when she didn’t seem to notice your indiscretion.
You spent two days torn over it. Treading softly with her, feigning that you were fine overnight until she left you again and you unraveled in her absence.
Opening the bedroom door an hour after she left, already knowing who’d you find on the other side.
A brute of a man standing guard, his back to the opposite wall as his ruby red eyes narrowed at you with pure annoyance.
“No.”
You hadn’t even spoken yet.
Eying him with the same irritation he showed for you, nose scrunching up as you stopped yourself from huffing.
Most of the guards she had stationed outside your room changed, unaware of who they were even protecting, a rotating roster of men ready to keep you from breaking free. But not him.
He was always the one posted directly by your door.
Dark pink hair falling down in his face, scarred and marked skin always creased in a stern scowl when he caught you staring at him, one foot about to fall forward before he shook his head.
“Stop,” he grunted as you peeked out of the door, and you feigned innocence, shrugging your shoulders.
“I just want to go to her office,” you pleaded, and he glared at you, refusing to even entertain your request.
“No,” he deadpanned.
But there was something underneath his rude facade that you didn’t like. Your brows pinching together as you tried to pout at him, to come up with something persuasive enough to change his answer.
Before you could, there was the click of heels, and you glanced back to see Satoru returning, a platter prepared with desserts. Her pretty face was pinched up with obvious displeasure though, her mouth twitching down as you hurried to step back inside your room.
She was slamming the door shut after you a few seconds later, half-shoving the tray into your hands as she turned to you with a disgruntled hiss.
“Why were you speaking to him?” Satoru snapped, and the only thing you could properly think about was how pretty she looked when she was jealous.
The downturn of her lips, the way her blue eyes glinted with unfettered annoyance, blowing air out of her nose as she tilted her head to the side all dramatically.
“I wanted to see you,” you murmured, cupping her face just for her jaw to clench.
Torn between taking you at your word and questioning it.
“You know I would be here with you all the time if I could,” she softly said, despite how cold her stare still was. Her hands still held warmth for you though. Delicately picking up a slice of a cake she must’ve requested the chef make, bringing it up to your lips.
You opened up for her. Holding her stare as she pushed it through, taking a small bite as she watched you swallow it.
“I worry about you,” you confessed as she wiped the icing from the corner of your mouth.
“Don’t.”
You never thought Satoru could possibly ask too much of you.
But that was simply impossible.
And the longer you went without any answers, the more you found yourself starting to spiral. To unravel as you waited and waited for something to change.
What could you do?
It wasn’t like the court you’d never found any friends in would support what the two of you shared. Satoru had kept you completely clueless to what was happening outside of the two rooms you could be in, ignorant to how much trouble she might be in with no husband to wear the crown.
Truthfully, you had no plan.
No magical solution that struck you in the middle of the night.
But you wanted to help.
Peeking back out into the hallway a week after you first found her book, ready to prod and press her knight for more information on what you’d been missing, but to your surprise, the hallway was empty.
No sign of anyone as you slipped out, your heart thrumming loudly in your chest as you started down the familiar path to her office.
It was a short walk, but every step made your chest constrict, pulse pounding so loud you were sure someone had to hear until you were finally there, her office door cracked open just enough for you to steal a glimpse inside.
The knight was there, his brows knitted together tight as he looked through all the books lining the shelves, walking over to her desk and carefully looking through the documents on it with that permanent scowl of his.
Searching for something.
Oh no.
You had a feeling you knew exactly what he was hoping to find.
He was going to betray her, wasn’t he? Looking for proof of what she’d done
His hand reached for the drawer her notebook was in, and you were pushing the door open before he could discover it.
Your suspicions were confirmed with how straight he abruptly stood, acting as if he hadn’t just been snooping.
“What are you doing out of your room?” He snarled at you, his voice hoarse and harsh as you refused to tremble or back down.
“What are you doing in here?” You returned the question, throat constricting at the intensity of his glare.
You weren’t brave. Not nearly as strong or stubborn as Satoru.
It wasn’t like anyone would ever be intimidated by you.
But you would try for her.
He didn’t answer your question, just grinding his back molars as he stepped out from around the desk, starting to stomp over as if he planned to drag you out and toss you back into your room.
If he did that though, he might just come back and find precisely what he was looking for.
So while he started towards you, you walked the opposite way around to where he’d been, a lie slipping off your tongue like you were used to telling them, “I just wanted to grab some books I left in here.”
“Hurry up then,” he scoffed, biting his tongue, probably not pushing it so you wouldn’t go and tattle to Toru about him being in here.
He thought you were stupid.
Just a brainless fool who was only good for getting fingered and fucked.
Not batting an eye when you grabbed a couple books you’d set aside on Satoru’s desk before pulling open the drawer and grabbing her diary, sliding it in the middle of the pile as her knight impatiently looked outside the door.
She would notice it was gone.
And you would have to fess up, admit that you’d read it enough to know to take it.
You’d rather her be mad at you than to get caught for her crime.
Stoking the flames in the fireplace the second your guard half-pushed you back into the room you were supposed to be in, ripping out the incriminating pages first and using them for tender before tossing the rest of the book in.
Watching it go up in flames, ashes sputtering out as it turned to dust in front of your eyes while you paced the floor and planned out the speech you would give her.
Or would have given her had she actually returned for dinner.
The sun setting and the moon replacing it through your window as you waited and waited for her to come for you. Debating and drowning in your anxieties over what could be taking her so long, your eyes compelled back to the burning papers, using the fire poker to keep the flames going before you were finally forced to face the reality that Satoru might not be showing up tonight.
Climbing back under the freezing covers, the bed so much bigger without her there to curl up against.
It didn’t matter how silky the sheets were or how comfortable the mattress was.
You couldn’t sleep anymore when there wasn’t the scent of her perfume and the softness of her skin to comfort you.
Was she upset with you?
Had something awful happened to her?
To make everything worse, you started to hear a…commotion on the floor below you. Voices and the sound of things moving around, shouts and scuffles that only served to heighten your nerves.
You almost opened the door to go find out what was going on. Sneak out again to search for the truth, but every time your hand settled on the knob, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn it.
Ignorance could be bliss.
But the truth would come out sooner or later.
Curled up on the edge of your bed, hands clasped together as your eyes stuck to the door, shadows dancing across the floor as the sun rose once again.
When it opened again, you were immediately standing, wiping sweaty palms on your nightdress as your breath got stuck in your throat, a hot lump forming the moment Satoru actually walked through.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she softly greeted, exhaustion obvious in the dark circles betraying her beautiful face.
“What happened?” You asked, studying her features for some clue, heart slamming into your chest as you tried to figure out what the chaos beneath you could possibly be. What could’ve taken her so long to come to you.
“They discovered who killed our dearly departed king,” she said, a faint hint of amusement shimmering before she turned away to lock the door behind her.
“What?” Your throat closed up, the word coming out as a stunned squeak as your brain tried to add together everything you knew.
The person who killed Suguru was standing in front of you.
If they knew that, she would be on her way to the gallows.
Not turning around so you could undo her corset.
You automatically stepped forward, fingers trembling as you undid her dress out of habit.
“One of the knights slipped poison into his wine,” Satoru apathetically huffed, as if it was a waste of time to even talk about it.
“One of the knights?” You echoed, reaching for something you didn’t know if you were confident enough to confront her about right as you unlaced the final part. Satoru stepped out of it with ease, her perfect body on display as she twisted back around to look over her shoulder at you. “Which one?”
“Does it matter?” She scoffed, arching up an eyebrow, clearly unhappy with your question.
But you still had one more left.
“Why?”
Her hesitation to answer gave you a different one.
“You know as well as I do what he was like,” she said, a little too snappy as she squinted at you.
But the moment the words were out there, you could see she regretted her response, her fingers skimming over your waist and squeezing you tenderly. “It’s all over now.”
You stared at her.
Satoru was lying to you.
You didn’t know why it surprised you. Couldn’t explain why it left you so shocked, staring at her in silence as you struggled to find something to say that wouldn’t give away what you knew.
“The knight was executed over night,” she added, your heart stilling as you realized the toll had risen to two.
But could you be upset when the other option was one, or maybe both of you taking their place?
“How did-”
“He stole something of mine,” Satoru muttered, and you knew what must’ve happened without her offering anything else.
She must have returned to her office first and realized her journal was gone.
And there were only two people she trusted enough to have access to the office it was kept in.
So she pinned the blame on her knight and beheaded him before he could speak about any of its contents or piece together what she’d done for you.
“He didn’t,” you breathed, your lungs shrinking as you struggled to get any more air in.
One of you had to be honest here.
She blinked at you, not comprehending what you were saying.
“What?”
“It was me,” you admitted, stiffly shrugging your shoulders. “I saw him searching your office. And, I, um, took it and threw it in the hearth.”
“You burned my-?”
“I read it,” you swallowed hard, that hard lump still there, still choking you up as you avoided her stare. “Before. I know-”
“No,” she cut you off, grabbing your chin and forcing you to tilt your face up to meet hers. “You, you were supposed to stay out of this.”
You knew in an instant all she wanted was to protect you. To shield you from the nasty politics and petty games these awful people liked to play.
But you couldn’t stand the idea of her doing anything at the expense of herself.
“You should have told me from the start,” you insisted. “I-I would’ve-”
“Your hands were supposed to be clean.” And your head empty.
Did she think you wouldn’t have loved her if you knew what she had done?
And now you had helped her conceal it.
“We could have-” You started, about to tell her that as long as you were together, you could work out the rest.
“If I told you before, you would have said there was another way,” Satoru solemnly said, her eyes narrowing as her fingers tightened around your wrist.
You couldn’t really argue that. You would have said precisely that. Told her it was too risky. Tried to dissuade her from taking drastic measures and attempting to convince her to run away with you.
You used to wish that the two of them would find a way to work it out. That you could find a happily ever after where everyone would get along.
What would your reaction have been if she touched your face and told you that she was going to murder her husband?
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” She pressed when you took too long to reply, her fingers pinching your chin to draw your attention back to right now. “I was not about to let you carry his child.”
It wasn’t like you could have hers.
Even if you’d do that in a heartbeat.
“He would have just kept putting babies in you and pushing me away from you” Satoru hissed, jealousy and anger rolling into her raw voice. “I couldn’t-”
“I know,” you interrupted her this time, softening as you leaned into her.
“Now it’s just us again,” she whispered conspiratorially, pressing a clipped-short nail against the tip of your nose.
How were you supposed to be mad about that?
You held your breath though, still searching for anything that could stand in the way.
“These people, they are not going to just let you rule forever,” you whispered, thinking about what could befall both of you if her treason was ever discovered. Sure, she’d found someone to blame, but there must be other loose ends. Whoever she obtained the poison from. The subjects who never supported her as queen to start with. “If they find out or-”
Satoru pressed her finger against your mouth, stopping you while you spiralled.
“Princess,” she murmured, clicking her tongue as her initial emotions swirled into that cocky confidence of hers. Pride returning as she realized that you weren’t going to condemn or curse her, but that you were concerned for her. “Don’t you know me?”
You hoped that meant she had already considered every side of your fear and took care of every conceivable problem.
“I love you,” you offered instead, your voice trembling as you put your trust in her hands.
“His throne is mine,” she smiled softly. And his concubine.
“What if someone else challenges it?” You pressed.
“There’s going to be a baby born with dark hair and purple eyes in a few months. His child. The mother doesn’t want the child, so I made a deal. She gets her own estate. We will get our heir,” She explained, speaking in short sentences like it would make the revelation easier to swallow.
“Someone else was pregnant with his child?” You breathed, taken aback.
When the fuck did he have the time to plow someone else’s field when he pretended to be so preoccupied with you?
It was wrong, especially when it wasn’t like your heart had ever wanted him, but it wounded your own pride a little bit at the idea you hadn’t been enough for him.
You supposed you should’ve suspected it, if Satoru wasn’t enough for him either.
“You weren’t his only-”
“Whore,” you finished for her, the word coming out a little strangled as you saw the situation for what it was.
All you’d been was a warm body to Suguru.
You were both disposable, to be used and discarded when his interests drifted.
“We’ll tell everyone the baby is yours,” she added, as if she had already planned every last detail out. “And until the child is old enough, I can still rule as a regent.”
Was that why she’d been hiding you away?
Faking a pregnancy instead of keeping you prisoner?
“Do you think they’ll accept a child they think is a bastard?” You asked, needing her to say yes.
To assure you that your fears were unfounded.
That she’d take care of you the same way she always had.
“I will give them no other option.”
When she spoke like that, that cold look icing over her eyes as she steeled her resolve, you knew she would. That she would do anything necessary to make sure of it.
“And what? We live happily ever after?”
Say yes.
You needed it. Craved her confirmation.
Looking up at her as your trembling fingers reached out to trace her waist, holding your breath as she nodded slowly.
“Forever.”
Your angel was standing in front of you promising you everything you ever wanted.
How were you ever meant to say no?
Even if she would lead you straight to Hell.
“You can be my queen,” Satoru murmured, giving you that pretty puppy dog pout you always fell for, placated as she leaned down to leave a soft kiss to your forehead like it was all settled.
Regret still lingering in your body as you ached to actually be that for her. Wishing your circumstances had been different from the beginning.
That you were never cursed to be so far below her, and in the body of a woman that could never wear a matching ring or recite wedding vows to her.
“I wish I was a-”
“Do not,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “You are perfect precisely the way you are.”
“Then why don’t you let me love you like you love me?” You asked, almost immediately annoyed at yourself for sounding a little whiney.
But you wanted to be inside of her.
To feel her squeeze and squirm around you, to hear her dissolve into messy whimpers and whines because of you.
“W-what do you mean?” She stuttered, her white brows arching up high as her lips got stuck in the sort of ‘o’ that made you itch to slip your tongue inside of her.
“I want to make you feel good,” you simply said, cheeks heating up as you swallowed the spit pooling in your mouth.
You had never seen Satoru nervous before.
Her mouth opened and clamped shut a few times before she started trying to ramble off reasons that she was better at giving, but you were sick of them.
Sick of all the stupid things that had kept you apart.
All the years you could’ve spent in her warmth that you missed out on. Mourning what both of your lives could’ve been if you were born as other people.
But she had sworn you were enough for her.
Was it wrong to want to show her how she was far more than enough for you?
“I-I just like the way you taste and-”
You kissed her mid-sentence, shutting her up before she could stall this any longer.
Grabbing her this time, guiding her back to the bed one step at a time, tangling your fingers in her soft, silky hair as your tongue slipped past her lips, tracing the sharp tips of her canines until her back hit the mattress.
And god, the moment you climbed on top of her, straddling her soft waist and pausing to peel your nightdress over your head, you hated yourself for not doing it sooner.
For missing out on the view you were currently taking in, eyes slowly drifting over the swell of her breasts, the pink peaked buds of her nipples as she sucked in uneven breaths, staring up at you with those dazzling blue eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, the words ripped from you as you struggled to keep yourself steady.
It felt like you were defiling something holy.
Her sacred body below you, your fingertips skimming over her pale stomach, swirling slowly across her nipple as you bit your bottom lip.
If she was an altar, a god, you’d pray to her every day.
Swear your faith and undying devotion, shower her with offerings and pray for just a sliver of her favor.
You couldn't believe she was yours.
“I’m a virgin,” Satoru suddenly blurted out, your fingers freezing as you drifted them back down below her belly button.
“Oh,” you blinked.
You suppose it should’ve been obvious.
But you had never really thought too hard about it.
You never exactly prized your virtue. But hers was different.
Special.
“Do you want me to stop?” You tentatively asked, about to climb back off of her before her hand gripped onto your hip to hold you there.
“No,” she answered a little too quickly.
So you came up with another solution to, ah, quell her nerves.
The ribbons you used to tie her hair with now strewn all over the bed, a long one in your hands as you adjusted her head forward.
“I’ll be gentle,” you promised.
Even though she practically jumped at every tiny touch you delivered to her skin, shivering at just a brush of your thumb over her nipple and when you leaned close enough for your breath to ghost across her throat.
You wrapped the ribbon around her eyes, excitement tingling between your fingers as you fixed the silk ribbon into its proper place, tying a pretty bow around the back, careful not to get her hair caught in it.
“Can you see?” You asked, humming softly with satisfaction as you lifted her wrists up next, positioning them above her hair as she writhed in the sheets.
“No,” she echoed, her voice shaking a little no matter how cocky she still tried to sound.
“Good.”
You tied her wrists next, watching the way she tested how strong the knot was by flexing them as you smiled to yourself.
“You know, you’re so mean,” you murmured, tracing your fingertip across her sharp features, brushing your thumb over her defined cheekbones before drifting down to her soft lips. “It’s only fair I get to play with you too.”
“I’m never mean to you,” Satoru huffed, and you were a little tempted to grab another ribbon and gag her with it for playing dumb.
“I hate it when you hide things from me,” you muttered, shaking your head with a soft tut of your tongue.
“I do it because-”
“You love me?” You asked, slowly shuffling down her body, pressing kiss after kiss across her heaving breasts down her slender abdomen.
Hoisting one of her thighs over your shoulder, sucking in a breath before you leaned in to leave on the most sensitive spot on her body.
“S-so much,” her cute voice cracked, nearly crumbling at the soft contact.
All her strength quickly melted into a puddle of pure need, her hips bucking up when you shifted down to start sucking on it, a gorgeous whimper escaping her – and immediately making you greedy for more.
You never thought Satoru would be at your mercy.
Her pretty pale body shivering, perfect skin glistening with sweat as she shuddered for you, her soft thighs trying to close around your head as you dragged your tongue down across her soaked cunt.
You didn’t think anything could ever taste so goddamn good.
No better than a man, wiggling your own hips down into the mattress to chase friction you couldn’t find, pushing your tongue in-and-out as her muscles twitched and tensed beneath your fingertips.
Suguru had never gotten you half as wet as her.
Never worked you up like this, left you soaked and squirming without even being touched. Your thighs pressing together to push down the heat stirring in your core, your pulse pounding so hard you nearly couldn’t hear her whining over it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I-I-”
You knew Satoru loved to chatter.
But once you were inside her it was like she physically couldn’t shut up, stammering and stuttering out curses, straining against the binds on her wrists and whining about not being able to see you.
“P-please, wanna see you, want to, oh god,” she begged, the beautiful arch of her back nearly breaking your resolve as heat soared straight up to cloud your head.
And before you could stop yourself, you were twisting around, angling your hips down to put your own pussy perfectly above her mouth, shutting her up by giving her something to lick and suck instead.
“Oh, fuck, ngh-”
Her words traded in for another heated moan as she shoved her tongue inside you, swirling it in with a desperation you found yourself quick to succumb to.
It really wasn’t fair that she was so good at everything you tried.
But you still refused to completely lose yourself, working harder to make her cum first, slipping your thumb up to her clit, only pulling off to start cooing and condescendingly coaxing her into coming undone, copying the same methods she so expertly pulled on you.
“C-come on,” you murmured, dragging your thumb in a slow circle as she shifted to suck on your clit just right, driving you right to the brink with her eagerness to give you everything she had. “Show me how much you love me.”
Preferably by falling to pieces on your tongue.
Sweat practically dripping off her, her moans reverberating through you as her body began to shake. On the very brink of breaking, pushed closer and closer as she started to cry out your name.
Her soft voice was music to your ears, a soft purr that made all the knots in your stomach pull tight instead of making them curdle like Suguru’s sometimes had.
You slipped your fingers inside her, feeling the way her walls squeezed down on them, trying to keep you in as you worked her oversensitive bud. She made a cute little squeak, her tongue lolling out as she began to babble again, “S’too much, I-I-”
“Shhh,” you murmured, pressing your tongue down as she spasmed and whimpered desperately at the sensation. “Can’t you cum for me?”
You glanced back over your shoulder to see the sight of her nodding hard and fast, the blindfold slightly crooked and her hands clawing at the pillow as she chased her climax.
“Put that pretty tongue of yours to better use,” you softly suggested, ignoring the initial discomfort at your reversed roles as you grinded your hips down on her face.
Apparently, your Toru could be a good listener too when she tried.
Doing her best to devote her tongue to you right up until the moment she couldn’t hold herself together anymore, cumming with a cry into your clit as your fingers found a sweet spot right below her cervix, pressing on it as you teased her swollen bud with the tip of your own pink muscle.
She was trembling, her legs twitching and toes curling as she let out devastated little whines that it wasn’t fair, squirming as you cleaned her up, enjoying the way she whimpered every single time your tongue dragged over her skin.
You could spend eternity buried between her thighs.
Or with hers between yours.
So what if it might be too much to ask?
She would make the universe give it to you anyway.
ε✿з
“My pretty princess.”
And her not terribly ugly son.
Satoru traced your face with her fingers, sighing to herself as the morning sun kissed your face, bathed you in beautiful warmth – oh, and the baby in your arms. Both of you snoozing softly, drool leaking out on your nightdress as you slept on your side, blissfully unaware of the outside world.
You made a pretty mother. Loved the little bastard Satoru did her best to tolerate.
Cradling an infant that neither of you had to carry, kissing his forehead and proudly showing him off to the other members of the court after he was born.
He’d never know he wasn’t yours. No one would.
Satoru would make sure of it.
His mother had been more than happy to take the estate. Especially when she knew the alternative would be Satoru taking her tongue to ensure she’d never talk.
She was still keeping tabs though. Just to be safe.
To make sure that this happy little family of hers would stay that way.
The nobles had protested. Insisted that she had no place as queen with Suguru dead. But his son, with his soft purple eyes and dark hair, well, that was enough to buy her eighteen more years.
Of course, there were still whispers.
Rumors swirled that she quickly snuffed out, either with quiet compensation or cold force. So what if a few more people had to be poisoned to protect your life together?
Rewriting history hadn’t been that hard.
No one needed to remember how much she hated Suguru. Or how rocky the marriage had been.
She got to be the mourning widow. The gracious wife still honoring her deceased husband by letting his bastard child be the heir. Raising him with a concubine instead of throwing both of them out.
That was how she’d be remembered.
“Good morning,” you yawned, slowly cracking your eyes open as you smiled at her.
“Sleep well?” She inquired, tempted to pick up the baby and place him back in his cradle so she could be cuddled instead.
You still had nightmares sometimes. Ones where you’d thrash around and she’d have to scoop him up and call for a wet nurse to take him until morning.
Waking you up to soothe you, stroking your hair and pretending not to know she was the reason for them.
And yet, you looked at her like she hung the sun in the sky and shined bright enough to chase away all the shadows. To bury the skeletons somewhere you’d never see them.
“Mhm,” you hummed, affectionately glancing between his chubby cheeks up to Satoru’s persistent pout as she puffed air into them.
“Have any attention left for me?” She pleaded, craning her neck over them to dramatically wait for you to press a gentle kiss to her nose.
Yuuta wants you to ruin him ! Cw: aged-up submissive, inexperienced, virgin, pervert yuuta x dominant reader, loss of virginity, spit, cnc, slapping, somnophilia
Yuuta is almost too cute to be true. A shy, kind-hearted, soft-spoken boy with big, glossy doe eyes that made your hands itch with the need to squeeze him.
He looks sweet, he is sweet. He looks innocent, but he's not that innocent.
Everybody believed that a guy such as Yuuta was just incapable of producing a single dirty thought in that little head of his. His appearance creating the illusion of innocence— halo-effect in it's purest form. Yuuta's personality can easily fool anyone as well. He blushes when Panda asks inappropriate questions, actually gasped when you two first held hands, and would turn red just from forehead kisses alone.
Yuuta was an extremely strong sorcerer, but somehow, you managed to be stronger than him.
Sometimes you would goof around, dragging him or play fighting. And he never fought back, his muscles going completely soft under the touch of your delicate hands when he could easily pin you down and overpower the situation. You could really just treat him like a rag doll and he'd let you with a shy, far-too-happy smile. He turns into putty whenever you're around. Making a special grade's knees buckle with something as small as smilling up at him.
And he did act weirdly.
Now, you had never raised your hand to your man, that's wrong. But for some reason, he would cower whenever you got mad. You could picture imaginary puppy ears pressing tightly to his head as he plead "please don't hurt me" with the most adorable expression ever. As if dangling the option to be mean right in front of you.
This behavior came off as confusing because you had no idea of the thoughts that haunted his mind. No matter how much Yuuta tried to surpress his perverse thoughts, they always leaked through the cracks of facade. Cracks that you created simply by existing around him.
Yuuta's mind could make a gutter look clean.
You two haven't had sex yet, deciding to take things slow and easy. Yuuta was happy with how much you respected him, but it just made him so frustrated! He was always so needy, so desperate, and only your hands could fix that. He's just too obsessed, too head over heels, hopelessly, pathetically in love. Yuuta is incapable of being mean to you, his body simply isn't capable. That's why he wants you to hurt him, to establish dominance as he kneels by your feet like the obedient puppy he desperately wants to be. He has so many naughty dreams where you take advantage of him and steal his virginity, he always wakes up with a layer of wetness spreading over his crotch, pouting as he wished you'd touch him inappropriately as he slept.
He's constantly bearing himself to you, so loudly vulnerable for you to take him once and for all. But you never do anything! You're too kind, and he thinks about how would it be like if you decided to disrespect him for once. Groping him as he passes by and laughing at his flustered reactions, yanking at his hair as he's forced to perform oral until his jaw hurts, shoving him down on the mattress and fucking him silly, pulling orgasm after orgasm until he's begging for you to slow down, to be gentle, only for you to spit in his mouth and lightly slap his tear-soaked face when he tries to fight back, a choked moan ripping from his throat as he's forced to endure actual torture. All for you.
Maybe one day. For now, he can't even maintain eye-contact without popping a boner.
nerd!jo who gets all flustered the second he's down on his knees removing your soaked panties. his breath hitches slightly, he couldn't believe it was actually happening. on his knees in front of you, feeling your gaze on him, about to eat you out for the first time.
nerd!jo who swears he was about to cum right then and there when he sees your bare pussy, seeing how wet you are. practically dripping all over the sheets, as he inches closer, breath ghosting over your glistening folds. before lapping his tongue around your wet entrance. taking a moment to savor your taste on his tongue.
nerd!jo who gets addicted to your taste on his tongue after a few minutes. tongue diving deep into your cunt, pumping in and out, hitting your sweet spot. gaining more confidence with each lick.
each orgasm.
nerd!jo who continues eating you out even after your second orgasm, completely obsessed with eating you out at this point. enjoying each whine, whimper, moan, and plea you let out. that nervous nerd at the start who was practically close to cumming by the sight of your bare pussy alone. was now between your legs making you cry out in pleasure. making your legs shake and quiver around his head, with his tongue alone.
nerd!jo who practically had to be pulled away from your pussy. your slick and juices all over his face from multiple orgasms. as he looks up at you. his eyes glossed over, hair a mess, breathing heavily, looking all disheveled and starved.
nerd!jo who, after that day, ate you out like it was part of his routine. who could never be the same person he once was before eating you out.
before tasting you.
before getting addicted to the feel of your pussy around his tongue.
Note: thank you for reading!! lwk struggled writing this cuz i have never written for gojo. and I was dead ass terrified when writing this cuz of that. also the text divider was made by this diva 😍 (aka me), overall hope you enjoyed my bundle of cells and atoms!!! (also don't drag me if my writing shit, I know it's kinda ass😔.)
sneaking around with best friend!geto is all fun and games until pretty girls start feeling up his biceps at the bar :(
“someone jealous?” gojo snickered in your ear, slinking up by your side as he waved the bartender over to order another obnoxiously fruity and brightly-colored beverage while you nursed your own suddenly bitter drink.
“yeah, you,” you sarcastically muttered, refusing to feed into his (correct) suspicions that you were sleeping with your mutual friend. the year you’d spent between geto’s sheets didn’t make you his girlfriend though.
not that you ever asked to be either.
“come on,” he goaded, his hip bumping into yours as he cocked his head towards where geto was currently getting groped by a manicured hand. “i know you want to pry him away.”
“so you can grab him next?” you teased, trying to deflect as you twisted around just for his hand to cage you in between his broad frame and the bar top. his pretty blue eyes were fuzzy though, pupils blown wide as you realized that maybe what he’d been sipping on tonight weren’t mocktails after all.
“nah,” he grinned, white teeth glinting as he leaned in lower. “think i’d rather grab you.”
“how much have you had to drink?” you exhaled, eyes drifting down to his glossy lips, lingering there a little longer than they should.
“enough to want a taste of you,” he shamelessly smirked at his attempt to be seductive, his palm sliding up your side as if it always had a place there.
you’d never taken any of his flirting seriously.
but maybe you should’ve.
considering whether or not imploding your situationship over sleeping with your other friend as gojo’s fingertips gracefully slipped down to disappear underneath your dress.
“you’re touching something of mine,” a honeyed voice interrupted with a drawn-out huff, but gojo didn’t pull away.
and a new idea blossomed, your mouth curling up as you glanced between the two men too busy glaring at each other to notice the sparkle in your stare.
what better way to punish your man by showing him just how swiftly a certain someone else would swoop in to steal you?
“boys,” you hummed, clicking your tongue. “don’t you know how nice Paris is right now?”
⡴ toxic!reader manipulating & leading on frat!sukuna who is unfortunately whipped
“are you fucking kidding me?” he yells, nose scrunched up while he stares down at you. he grates his teeth before continuing while his hands thread into his roots distressingly. “what am i doing wrong?” it’s almost weird to hear his usually deep, solemn voice so whiney.
you exasperatedly sigh, rolling your eyes and sticking your hands back into your (really his) coat pocket, ready to leave his room. “oh, here we fucking go.” his deep red eyes squint, closing in on your annoyed face.
“here we fucking go?” he quotes you, dark eyebrows raising on his forehead in disbelief. “don’t try and act like i’m being fucking crazy!” his bulky arm whips out to gesture his point while the other remains in his tussled hair.
“i think you’re overreacting a little about your friend going on a date that hasn’t even happened yet.” your choice of words is intentional. as expected, his chest heaves a couple feet away from you. “you’re being—”
“FRIEND?” he screams in what sounds like horror. your eyebrows lift in almost a mocking way. his shoulder tense even harder before he slaps his calloused hands on his tattooed face and runs them down his skin, pacing back and forth infront of you. “THAT’S what you wanna call us? i-i’ve fucked you, took you out on dates, bought you fucking flowers.” he leans on his wall, covered in his nephew choso’s band posters, facing away from you and hissing through his teeth.
“i’ve told you thank you, ryomen.” his head snaps back to hiss at you, looking over his shoulder as the words fall out your mouth.
“you can’t even call me by my fucking name?” you don’t respond, playing around with the lighter in his coat pocket. “what will it fucking take for you to like me? i’ve dedicated the past six goddamn months on you and now you’re going on a date with gojo?”
“i do like you, sukuna.” his gaze softens for a moment at your words. his bottom lip juts out ever so slightly, if he wasn’t upset right now you’d tease him about the pout. “me and gojo are just going to the movies. me and him have been friends for years.”
he grumbles under his breath, turning to fully face your gaze again. he looks conflicted, now biting at the side of his lip. in full honesty he looks pathetic, his shoulders have now slumped discouragedly yet still looking over you.
“he wants to fuck you.” he grimaces, like it disgusts him to even mention him to you or just you with another man at all. “you wouldn’t care at all if i hung out with yorozu?”
your arms crowds over themselves in front of your chest.
“i know you wouldn’t do that, ‘kuna.” he sighs out at the nickname. “unless you all of a sudden wanna give this up.” you gesture to the two of you.
“fuck.. no.” he shakes his head, pushing back the hair he did all nice for you tonight, exited to see you—atleast before you dropped you’ll be going on a date with his frat brother right after you fucked sukuna. “…why do you do this to me?” his voice cracks halfway through before his neck cranes to the side like he’s trying to hide his face from you.
you step forward, coming closer to him and softly placing your manicured hands—that sukuna insisted on paying for this past time— on his cheek and turning his face to the side. his lips are slightly ajar while his eyes bore into you.
you lean up to be level with his ear, glancing lightly at the botched ear piercing you have him when he moved at the last moment.
“i’m not doing anything, ‘kuna.” you whisper, soft just centimeters away from his skin. his large hand moves quickly to grab at your hip like he’s trying to keep you in his room forever from those words alone. he breathes hot against your neck. “how ‘bout you take me out this saturday? try to convince me you’re better than gojo.”
you’re about to step away now before his whole arm wraps around your waist, and he stares smittenly down at you. he hesitates before he finally opens his mouth to say something.
“block that other guy for me and it’ll be somewhere fancy.” he grumbles, matching your glare.
“i’ll think about it.” you kiss his cheek before he immediately tries to place his palm over where you left the smudge of lip color. “give me a reason to break gojo’s heart and not yours.”
you weave out of his grasp, and walk out of his room.
ᝰ.ᐟ your roommate, nerd!cho, is secretly a panty thief! ⸝⸝ 18+ mdni
roommate!nerd!cho is incredibly quiet and keeps to himself when you first move in. he's a big, awkward computer science major who basically lives in front of his monitors, wearing hoodies that are three sizes too big and constantly pushing up his glasses. he used to get so tongue-tied and red just saying "hi" to you in the hallway.
roommate!nerd!cho takes a while to warm up, but once he gets comfortable, he’s the sweetest guy ever. he'll quietly fix the wi-fi before you even have to ask, or leave a donut on the counter for you. he's just really gentle, thoughtful, and incredibly nice to have around the apartment.
roommate!nerd!cho agrees to a simple laundry system with you to keep things running smoothly. you always put your clothes in the wash first thing in the morning. by the time he goes to do his, your turn is done and you’re already gone to your morning classes. it works perfectly every single week.
roommate!nerd!cho has a massive, secret crush on you that he keeps bottled up inside. he thinks you are way too pretty and completely out of his league, so he just admires you from a distance. because he’s so shy, he never plans on doing anything about it—but holding these heavy feelings in for so long makes him incredibly touch-starved and desperate for any connection to you!
roommate!nerd!cho finds a pair of your light pink cotton panties with a little white lace trim stuck to one of his hoodies. he's sorting his laundry on a tuesday morning when he sees them. "h-huh? w-what the..." his face goes bright red and his heart starts hammering. he knows he should just leave them on the counter, but looking at them triggers a dark, needy urge he didn't even know he had.
roommate!nerd!cho pockets them instead of returning them. his hands shake like crazy as he stuffs your pink panties into his pocket, quickly throws his clothes into the washer, and runs back to his room to lock the door.
roommate!nerd!cho collapses against his door and pulls the panties out. he holds the soft cotton to his face and takes a deep breath—smelling your laundry soap and the warm, sweet scent of your skin. it completely ruins him. he's so excited and hard that his dick is already leaking through his sweatpants.
roommate!nerd!cho babbles total filth to himself in a messy, breathless whimper as he pulls his pants down. he wraps your pink underwear tight around his shaft and starts jerking off. "oh my god—you smell so good," he groans, his glasses getting all foggy from his hot breath. "i'm so sorry—fuck—i'm such a disgusting freak... but haah—want you so bad." he strokes himself faster and faster while picturing your body, until he blows a huge, messy load right inside your underwear, completely ruining them.
roommate!nerd!cho realizes there is no way he can wash the sticky stains out without you finding out. shaking and sweaty, he hides his ruined prize in the very back of his desk drawer, tucked behind his computer parts where you'll never look.
roommate!nerd!cho gets totally hooked after that first time. doing laundry isn't a chore anymore; it’s his favorite part of the week. he starts offering to carry the baskets just to sneakily look through your clothes. soon, he steals a black silk thong, and then a pair of white boy-shorts with a tiny red bow on them.
roommate!nerd!cho gets greedy one weekend when you stay overnight at a friend's place. being all alone in the apartment makes him bold, and he steals two pairs at once: a sheer lavender mesh pair and some comfy grey cotton ones you usually wear to sleep.
roommate!nerd!cho uses both at the same time to get off. he wraps the tight lavender mesh around the bottom of his dick for friction, while keeping his face buried in the grey cotton. he actually licks the middle of the grey pair, trying to taste you, whimpering and begging for the real thing while he messes up another pair of your clothes.
roommate!nerd!cho starts worrying that you'll notice your underwear is missing. to keep you from getting suspicious, he carefully hand-washes the cleaner ones in his bathroom sink, dries them in his room, and sneaks them back into your clean basket. but he never gives back his favorites—especially the ones that smell the most like you.
roommate!nerd!cho sits across from you at the table the next day, looking like a totally innocent, sweet roommate as he drinks his coffee. when you complain about losing your favorite pink underwear, he just gives you a shy, sympathetic smile. but underneath the table, his dick is throbbing hard, knowing those exact pink panties are stuffed inside his pillowcase so he can sleep on your scent every single night.
friends with benefits with toji fushiguro but you’re actually benefitting from the ‘friendship’ and not begging for him to spend the night after he bends you into myriads of poses you didn’t know you could handle while pounding your cunt into a fucking waterpark.
friends with benefits with toji fushiguro but he’s actually kinda hurt when you kick him out of your house after you came over 5 times from oral and his dick. maybe not kinda…but god forbids he expresses that to you cuz a man gotta keep his aura yknow?
friends with benefits with toji fushiguro but he burns the image of you sleeping and drooling on his chest and resist the urge of licking your saliva off your lips cuz he’s a freak like that, dreams abt fucking you on the countertop in the mornings and kiss you goodbye as you leave for work like he’s a thing—like a boyfriend, or a husband??????
friends with benefits with toji fushiguro but he realises he’s fallen in love with his hot nonchalant baddie ‘friend’ and he’s freaking out when he accidentally blurs out ‘I love you’ while he cums hard in your hot little pussy.
friends with benefits with toji fushiguro but he’s actually fucking sulking like a 9 year denied McDonalds because you pretend you didn’t hear the desperate, come-fueled confession from the deepest part of his cock just so you can continue being JUST friends with benefits.
friends with benefits with toji fushiguro who catches himself stare out of the window after you rejected his invitation for dinner as if he’s heartbroken. and maybe he is???? AS FUCK????? so what????
friends with benefits with toji fushiguro but he doesn’t wants to be friends with benefits anymore because he’s pussy-whipped and he’s so fucking in love with you and your beautiful eyes and your beautiful voice and your beautiful brain and he’d do anything to be your thing—your anything more than a fucking ‘friend’ 💔💔💔
satosugu are cheating on each other with you, part two.
part one here!
you knew your nebulous position as the other woman was never going to last. when you’re the affair partner of both people in the same relationship, it’s inevitable that the truth will eventually come out. you just decide to have it happen on your own terms.
you escalate your own behaviour; with suguru, who you mostly have sex with and share the occasional drink, you up your antics. you leave behind lip gloss, you kiss bruises in places he won’t immediately notice, keep your nails sharper to scrape lines down his skin. you moan in his ear as he fucks you and ask, “what would your husband think, if he walked in here right now? watching me take you like i’m the one you’re married to?” just to relish in the way his voice strangles on a heavy groan as he comes.
with satoru, who’s far more interested in the emotional side of things, you devote yourself fully to the role of secret girlfriend. with suguru, you might be a nice, illicit fuck for when his husband’s busy. with satoru? you’re the partner he wishes his husband was. he takes you on elaborate dates, he buys you flowers, he flourishes with every sweet kiss and whispered affirmation. when he calls you late at night, paralysed with fear because he just knows his husband is cheating, you leave suguru in bed to console him from the safety of your bathroom. he can barely look at you when he fucks you, refuses to turn the lights on, then shudders in your arms as you nurture him in the aftermath.
it’s manipulative. you’re halfway in love with them from the thrill alone. you let it build and build, watch as their marriage slowly falls apart from their own actions, and, when it’s all coming to a climax, you arrange a threesome.
in the end, it’s easy. you invite them. suguru tells you happily that his husband’s out of the prefecture that weekend, and he misses you so much, sweetheart. can’t stop thinking about you. satoru tells you his husband is definitely with that homewrecker, so why can’t he spend a weekend with you? they don’t even care about the third, so long as you make sure they’re hot.
then they both show up, and it’s glorious.
after all, aren’t you blameless? it’s suguru that told you he wants something casual, satoru who said he doesn’t mind if you see someone else at the same time, since he’s doing the same. it’s not your fault they’re cheating. it’s not your fault they’ve accidentally fallen for the same woman outside of their marriage. it’s definitely not your fault that you accidentally arranged a threesome with both of them. how could you know? it’s not like suguru’s ever seen you snooping through his apartment. it’s not as if satoru has given you any details about his wayward husband, either.
there’s a moment of silence. of shock. they stare at each other in obvious disbelief while you smile cluelessly. you tell them you “just know they’re going to get along!” and they “have so much in common.” they don’t correct you. no, suguru does something better:
“it’s nice to meet you,” he says, perfectly neutral. “i’m geto suguru. i’ve heard a lot about you.”
satoru looks heartbroken. he looks angry. “gojo satoru,” he replies. “can’t say i’ve heard much about you.”
“looking forward to learning more, i hope.”
“something like that.”
you’re giddy with excitement. how couldn’t you be? they don’t even know. they’re playing some secret, private game between just the two of them, unaware that you know. that you’re a witness to it—better yet, that you’re an orchestrator.
they fight over who kisses you first, and when you goad them into kissing each other, satoru bites suguru so hard his lip splits. suguru growls, pulls him by the hair, and tells him that if he can’t mind his teeth like a good boy, suguru will tie him up so he won’t be able to use his hands, either.
somehow, that’s exactly what happens.
satoru bites and scratches as you all undress, a ball of tightly wound feeling he can’t quite get ahold of. when suguru kisses your neck, satoru tugs at his long hair so hard his neck cracks. after that, well, suguru doesn’t let it slide. he sits you in satoru’s lap and watches satoru bite his way across your tits before pulling his arms behind his back and tying him to the headboard. satoru’s legs follow, winding his calves to his thighs. it says something that satoru doesn’t argue.
“you act like you two know each other,” you say breathily, chest sore from where satoru bit your breasts on the wrong side of too hard, skin pinkening and indented with the shallow divots of his teeth.
satoru groans, watching as suguru pulls you away, situating you in his lap with your back to his chest and your legs spread over his thighs, presented to his husband. “never met the guy,” he says lowly, “and if i have, i don’t recognise him.”
“don’t worry,” suguru croons. “we are going to get very familiar.” his hand caresses down your side as he says it, thumbs rubbing strong circles into your skin.
satoru’s eyes stay fixed on your face.
suguru takes you apart with careful efficiency, teasing you until your pussy flutters with each brush of his fingers against your thighs, your navel, just short of the apex of your thighs. when he finally touches you where you want him, his fingers are long and slow and languid as he spreads you open, fingering you with lazy contentment as he sucks wet kisses down your neck and back. he leaves you straining and whining, makes satoru watch until he’s groaning as if he can feel the phantom touch of suguru’s every caress.
suguru bends you forward until you’re on your hands and knees, head just barely brushing against satoru’s knees. satoru parts his legs further, staring down at you with something close to awe. a little scared, a little sad, and very aroused. suguru crowds your back, bending over your figure and biting the shell of your ear as he slowly, slowly sinks into you.
“my good little wife,” suguru says, loud enough for satoru to hear. satoru chokes on his next breath, bordering on a sob. “should’ve married you, sweetheart. i could keep you like this forever.”
“suguru—“ satoru pants.
his skin is red and raw from his shuffling, his dick rock hard and straining against his black boxers. from the way his chest heaves, his eyes burn red-rimmed with tears, you’d think he’s the one being fucked. when he catches you looking, he lurches forward with a low groan, cut off as the rope tightens around his muscular thighs. he murmurs your name on a strangled groan.
a hand moves, grabbing you by the cheeks and pulling you to look over your shoulder, neck craning at an awkward angle. “ignore him, sweetheart.” suguru whispers in your ear. “eyes on me. he’s not the one fucking you so good, is he?”
“i could be,” satoru growls. “i have. fucked her hard and fast, like a whore. she must be, if she’s willing to fuck you.”
it’s mean, unnecessarily targeted at you when the ire is really directed at his husband. suguru’s eyes crinkle on a smile.
“that’s not a very nice thing to say, is it? she’s always so sweet, so good. maybe you just don’t fuck her right.”
“i’ll show you—“
you stop listening. suguru thrusts so hard and sure, just slow enough to have you craving more, just fast enough to satisfy you. stamina has always been his strong suit, and he fucks you into over sensitivity. his thumb moves, sitting heavy and mean over your clit, rubbing firmly against you with every thrust forward. you fall apart warbling his name, hands reaching backwards to scratch at his thighs. then he fucks you to tears, keeping eye contact with satoru, muttering filth in your ear all the while.
“should knock you up, so you have no choice but to marry me.” he says, watching as satoru’s mouth drops on a whine. “keep you happy and full in my bed, so you never have to leave. you’d be the perfect wife, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”
satoru comes untouched with a breathy whine of your name. your name, as if his husband isn’t right there. as if he hadn’t just watched his husband fuck the girl he’d been playing around with. suguru follows soon after, spilling into you unprotected.
they both stay the night. you share a quiet, almost awkward breakfast, where you play the fool and chatter with your usual enthusiasm. when they leave, it’s at the same time.
you don’t know what happens when they get home. what you do know is that suguru texts you a few days later to come over. satoru asks you out on another date. and, a few weeks later, you fall back into bed with the both of them.
The Time I Worked at a Convenience Store in Hell the pet
Sum: Died, went to hell, got a retail job, full of regret because you sucked off your landlord to make rent, and then got handed a deal by those predators from the other night. What could go wrong? Everything. Don't make friends in Hell.
Yan! SatoSugu x Reader // Featuring brief Yan! Sukuna x Reader
Warnings: Yandere, AFAB! reader, dub-con -> non-con, oops! all evil men, lots of sex between satosugu, oral (m! receiving/m! giving), threesome, anal, use of aphrodisiacs, somnophilia/waking up to assault, contract coercion, pet play-ish, blood drinking, monster anatomy, objectification/dehumanization, manipulation, captivity/ownership implications, humiliation, violence, hell setting, murder, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MDNI
Part one: Hell // Part two: The Pet 6k (end)
a/n: WHEW, that is probably the most smut I've ever written. Enjoy! Who knew a crack idea would turn into such a long fic? This is the final part for now, but I might come back with an epilogue or something in the far future.
Hell is much like modern society.
If you have enough money and a good hand, you'll do well for yourself.
Status has everything to do with how Hell is run. If your sin was so spectacular that it elevated you into a higher creature, like a nymph, a succubus, or a vampire, then life won't be so bad. Life was always easier when you had claws to force your way up to the top. Easier to build a lavish little life for yourself while waiting for your little pet to come home.
And how Satoru missed his pet. His muse. His everything.
Some eager groupie from the last concert lay tangled between their dark cotton sheets, their body already cooling as Suguru drank from their wrist. Eyes left open wide. Fear, maybe. People often didn't believe you could die again in Hell. The murderer faced a consequence, sure, but the dead faced an even worse one for being foolish enough to die twice.
Suguru had always been more flirtatious with his prey in the beginning, the type to play with his food before letting his teeth and hunger decide how the night would end. Violet eyes glittered beneath the neon lights pouring from the high-rise windows as he dragged pale pink lips across the heat of tonight's meal. Leaving a trail of soft nips from their neck down to their chest, wet open-mouthed kisses before stopping on their collar, thin red droplets would pool against their skin when he got a little too frisky, all while Satoru got his fill.
The need for desire would never truly be sated. Ever the curse of being a succubus. No amount of adoration from fans, or the eager hands reaching for just a taste of such a beloved idol, would ever fill the hollow ache you left behind. He supposed after all these years he could forgive you for granting them a death sentence back in the land of the living.
All pets eat their owners when starving.
Still, he enjoyed that emptiness. It allowed him to become crueler, all in the hopes that when you finally returned, he could be loving again. It let him drag out harsher thrusts with pitiful creatures who were willing to pretend his touch actually meant he cared about them. Satoru could only drown out their sounds and imagine your own instead, blue eyes half-lidded in a daydream as he dropped his face into the creature's shoulder and bottomed out once more, followed by a pitchy whine; the feeling of Suguru joining in sent him a little off the edge. Feeling his lover's cock through the cunt of the groupie... well, it was enough to remember old times.
However, there was a rat in their bed. A toy for Suguru to drain once Satoru's heat had been satisfied.
Suguru would have never forced his cock into your ass dry like that. Wouldn't have ignored your cry of pain and swiftly pushed past the tight resistance while you begged for mercy as he kept pace with Satoru's thrusts.
He would have been patient with you. Loving, even. He would have teased you for hours, prepped you over his lap with care and the use of Satoru's saliva as lube, kissed every sound from your lips until you forgot to hate him properly. But this was not you. This was not someone Suguru loved. And for anyone else, cruelty was the only love he had to offer.
By the time Satoru panted your name against unfamiliar lips, each of his measured thrusts had grown sloppier by the second. He was close, and so was this groupie with a mind far too gone to care that Satoru had called them by a different name; it's not like he exactly remembered theirs either.
Suguru finally lifted his head, pulling his leaky cock free with a soft pop while Satoru remained buried inside them. The dark-haired one leaned across their shoulder, violet eyes meeting ocean-blue ones, both softening into affection, matching the faint pout lingering on Satoru's lips before Suguru delighted him in a kiss - lazy and far too intimate.Saliva stretched between their mouths when they parted. Only breaking when Suguru decided to feast - ripping the poor creature's throat out.
Satoru was used to that by now. Only pulling out with a groan and reaching for the towel to wipe the juices off his cock. A cheerful little creature announced that another hundred years or so was added to their already lengthy sentence.
Not that it mattered. With what they made, another hundred years was little more than a fee.
Reincarnation wasn't cheap, but then, neither was justice in Hell. That was the funny thing. The monsters flourished. Everyone else paid for it.
૮₍ ´˶• ᴥ •˶` ₎ა
Unfortunately, you happened to be one of those people.
Specifically, one of those people currently trying to scrub dried slushie syrup off the rotting laminate counter while pretending not to reflect on your actions with your landlord.
You needed money. Sukuna had already docked your pay, and there was the issue of Sukuna not letting you get another side gig. The clause was written in your contract, and he kept insisting that extra money would get to your head.
It had been a couple of days, and you had ignored Mr. Nanami in passing this morning, your throat still aching from last time and not exactly eager for a second round with your already wounded pride. Who knows, he might get eager for more if you let him, and you aren't willing to gamble on that just yet. The orc only offered you a small bow of his head before brushing past with a crumbled list of errands in the same green hand that pushed your head down the length of his cock. The flashbacks came swiftly and rather unwillingly. Your eyes caught onto the lotto ticket in his hand before you both went about your day. He seemed eager to cash one in.
You'd watched plenty of the damned souls shuffle up in the weary hours for those cursed scratchers - mostly the freshly dead ones who were sent here for a long, long time. Curiosity finally got the better of you, so you asked your boss what the payoff was. A jackpot? A wish? Something worse?
He only grunted and slapped aside the glossy nymph-centerfold he'd been ogling. And briefly jacking off to, which you had done your absolute best to ignore while restocking cigarettes three feet away. After a few more prods, his ember-red eyes - minus the pair still glued to a page of a river nymph's shimmering cunt - slid toward you.
"Does all kinds of crap," he rasped, voice gravelly with boredom, and one of his four hands waved around like the prize was obvious and you were just stupid, "Grants wishes. Lets you stake a chance that some idiot on top makes a wrong choice."
A single obsidian claw drifted upward, glinting beneath the lights.
"Maybe some idiot cheats on his wife. Maybe they get bold and rob a bank. Or even better, they decide that the exit door is far more inviting than the land of the living. If they crash-land here" - he shrugged - "you cash in."
He bared a cocky smile, a fang flashing beneath the yellowing light before muttering, "There's cash too, but that's for crybabies like you."
You nearly wondered if someone had wagered on your own little academic misdemeanor, but the crybaby comment got to you before the thought had time to process.
You threw the cleaning rag at him.
Then immediately trembled at the sound of his roaring laughter, loud enough to wake the dead.
૮₍ ´˶• ᴥ •˶` ₎ა
On your merciful ten-minute break - earned after haggling with orcs, chasing sticky-fingered goblins, and wiping down returned magazines that a succubus had a little too much fun with in the bathroom - Sukuna grudgingly took the register so you could get a moment to breathe and finally wash your hands after touching liquids that seemed a little too biological for your own liking. He flicked a pair of crimson eyes up at you long enough as you took off that stupid vest to growl out, "Ten minutes, got it?" As if you had any desire to piss off a creature like him. Everyone in Hell carried private horrors; Sukuna felt like his own horror. One you weren't willing to investigate like Scooby Doo.
Your bargain-bin phone chirped in your pocket as you sat down in the dark alley beside the shop, finding comfort upon an old wooden crate and a floor that was littered with cigarette butts. Pulling the poor excuse of a device from your pocket, the cracked screen glowed, flaring itself to life. The handset itself had been a "kindness" from Sukuna, if kindness meant flinging it towards you and docking the price - plus interest - from a wage already whittled down to one penny an hour.
Unknown: Hey, this is Geto :) You working? Gojo says hi. Any customers? We're down the street.
Right.
The vampire incident. All you remembered were Suguru's cool fingers brushing yours as he passed you a pack of condoms to scan, the weight of his violet eyes that made your own mind fuzzy. And at the end of it all, Satoru's rather cheerful wink over his shoulder, like more happened than you remembered. You must have handed over your number while fretting about bigger issues.
Hello… Mr. Geto. No customers. I am working. You texted back - fussing with the punctuation and whether you should be formal with an idol or not.
You weren't willing to bet on whether Sukuna would actually eat you for losing a customer. You also weren't sure why a pair of rather famous idols would willingly waltz themselves into a dive like this? They could go between districts, have things ordered to their fancy penthouses, even pay for their reincarnation twice over. Why keep drifting back to a moldy store like this one?
Rain drizzled with a whisper in the alley, turning neon into watercolor. Sukuna shouted that he was off. You took a sharp inhale of the damp air before you shrugged into your Quickie Mart ;) vest, and slid behind the counter just as the warped bell above the door jangled.
They glided in like regulars. Satoru peeled off a black mask, even prettier than you remembered, and sang, "Mr. Geto and I have arrived," clearly savoring your stiff text. His hood fell, snowy hair tumbled free, fangs flashed with his whip of a tail thrashing behind him. He veered toward the candy aisle, pale ears pink - perhaps from the drizzle. Succubi tended to run on appetite, not temperature, and surely a stranger wouldn't be flushed for you.
Suguru followed at a cat-like prowl. No mask. Maybe he liked the attention, or maybe fans kept their distance from a mouth with sharp canines. He leaned against the counter, midnight hair spilling from a loose top-knot, voice velvet-soft. "You're actually alone here for once. Can you tell me where the good stuff is?"
You fixed your gaze on the day-glow promo flyer, unwilling to meet those eyes again - those violet pools could easily turn your thoughts to syrup. "The good blood bags," Satoru called from between shelves, “not that animal-processed shit.”
"Due to humane-harvest regulations," you recited from the crumpled memo taped beside the register, "most live farms have closed. We currently only carry synthetic, animal-processed, and shelf-stable blood products." The words tasted stale in your mouth. You'd said them enough times by now to feel like part of the store itself.
"How tragic," Suguru mused. When you risked a glance up, violet eyes snagged yours across the counter, half amusement, half hunger. He looked amused by the whole thing, really. The memo. The store. The fact that anyone had decided shelf-stable blood could be considered an actual meal and not prison food.
"Tragic for the animals?" you asked.
"For me," Satoru cut in before Suguru could answer.
He dumped his armload onto the counter with a bright, careless clatter - ramen bricks, cola, sour gummies, novelty blood-flavored lollipops, and whatever else he could find.
"He's unbearable when he's peckish," Satoru added, leaning his hip against the counter, his blue eyes looking down at his pile and then at you with a cheerful smile as if to say get scanning.
Suguru's smile thinned. "Satoru."
"What? You are."
You forced yourself to start scanning, not wanting to get involved in petty arguments between friends? Lovers? You aren't sure, and you're not exactly paid enough to care either.
"Packaged blood never agrees with me," Suguru said.
He tapped one cool, ringed finger against the scan plate, not touching you, though close enough that you became annoyingly aware of your movements that stiffened.
"Reliable donors are rare down here," he continued. "Living ones, especially."
Outside, thunder rolled over the roof. Inside, the leak found a new rhythm, each drop ticking into the bucket like a ticking clock.
"Can't you just pay donors?" you asked. "I'm sure your fans would volunteer."
You said it mostly because it seemed obvious. Two famous idols, one vampire, one succubus, and an entire city of people willing to embarrass themselves for a chance with one of them. Surely finding someone willing to offer a little blood couldn't be that hard.
Suguru's eyes did not move from you.
"They would," he said. "For the wrong reasons."
You weren't sure what to do with that.
Maybe you should have been more concerned. Maybe that was the correct response when a vampire started talking about living donors while standing close enough for you to see the shine of his fangs. But concern had gotten a little difficult to maintain in Hell. Everything here wanted something. At least Suguru seemed polite about his needs.
Satoru invaded your space even more than before, blue eyes bright despite the harsh lighting.
"Maybe you could be one."
Your hand paused over the scanner, catching his eyes with your own for a brief moment before grabbing another bag.
"A what?" you asked, though you had a feeling you already knew.
"A donor," Satoru said with a shrug, as if it were obvious, though you both knew you weren't going to admit that.
Suguru glanced at him, faintly disapproving. "You make it sound so crude."
Satoru's mouth curved playfully, keeping his manic eyes on you. "It is crude."
"It's practical."
"For you, maybe."
"Satoru."
The name came soft, but it landed neatly enough that Satoru only smiled wider. Almost like a puppy being acknowledged for doing something wrong, but wasn't exactly punished either.
His tail slid across the counter with serpentine grace. The dark, spiked tip of the heart brushed the side of your hand before curling loosely around your wrist. Not tight, but you were sure he could yank you toward them if he wanted, in a blink of an eye.
"You're still human, right?" Satoru asked, his voice dipping into a more taunting manner. "Warm blood, little pulse, a short sentence. What terrible thing could have sent you here, puppy?"
The nickname caught.
Worse, it warmed your face.
You hated that part most of all, the tiny, traitorous spark in your chest that happened whenever they came around. Echoes of last time floated up through the fuzz of your memory: Satoru's off-hand confession that you reminded them of a pet they once had.
You should have corrected him.
Instead, you looked down at his tail around your wrist and tried not to think too hard about how casual it felt. Familiar, almost, in a way that made no sense at all.
"Satoru," Suguru chided again.
This time, Satoru sighed and loosened his tail, though the tip lingered near your fingertips.
Suguru faced you fully, his voice slipping into something almost business-like, though a brief flash of annoyance cut through before smoothing away again. "We - no - I'll pay properly. Consistently. Nothing without consent. A small draw at a time."
The scanner beeped when your thumb brushed the trigger, pausing for a second before you forced yourself to keep ringing up their items.
"A small draw," you repeated.
Suguru nodded. "Enough to help me. Not enough to harm you."
That sounded reasonable.
A little strange, maybe, but a lot of things in Hell were strange. Last week, a ghoul had tried to pay for cigarettes with a jar of molars and three expired coupons. A blood donation contract with two rich idols was not the most horrifying offer you'd received recently. Actually, compared to your landlord, it was almost civilized.
"Interesting," you managed.
Rain tapped harder against the windows. The ceiling dripped. And all that remained was awkward silence before Satoru coughed.
"And we tip," Satoru added, lashes half-lowered over ocean blue, "very well."
You forced your eyes away from Suguru's face only to land on Satoru's. He looked pleased with the exchange, mouth curved around a soft bite of his lower lip, as if he already knew the money had caught your attention.
Which was annoying.
Because it had.
"Is a contract involved?" you asked. "Sukuna said I could only have one job at a time, and I’d rather not get eaten alive because I missed some fine print."
Satoru waved one hand as if brushing dust from a windowsill. "Sukuna won't do anything as long as we pay him."
Your stomach sank a little.
Not from fear, exactly. More from the miserable realization that, of course, that was how things worked. Hell had rules, but money made those rules.
Satoru leaned closer, smile brightening. "Why? You considering it?"
His tail gave the smallest pleased patter against the counter. Like a cat's tail wanting to show it's ready to pounce.
Suguru moved in before you could answer, his annoyance at Satoru flashing quick and sharp before his expression settled back into something gentler. "We can pay you out of your current position. Whatever you owe Sukuna, we'll cover. Whatever other debts you have, we can fold them into the contract."
Nanami's name came to mind before you could stop it.
Your throat ached.
You looked down at the scanner, pretending to check the total.
"That would be… a lot," you said.
"We can manage a lot," Suguru said with a gentle smile as he knocked on the table a lot before shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Especially for a puppy," Satoru hummed. "Think about it. You have our number."
Satoru paid in crisp bills that looked too fresh for this store. Suguru added a tip large enough to make your breath catch, then smiled as if he had done something perfectly ordinary.
By the time the bell above the door jangled behind them, the rain had blurred their figures into watercolor through the glass. Satoru glanced back once, lifting his fingers in a cheerful little wave. Suguru did not wave. He only looked at you through the rain-streaked window with the same calm patience he had carried the entire time.
You stood there until the register screen went dark.
Then you looked down at the tip.
It wasn't enough to fix everything. Not even close.
But it was enough to make the offer feel real.
Rent was coming up. You were still short on cash even after Sukuna’s miserable wages. Between owing Sukuna and Nanami. It wasn't exactly the worst option. People donate plasma all the time.
And it wasn't like they'd eat you alive.
Would they?
૮₍ ´˶• ᴥ •˶` ₎ა
Suguru hadn't expected to send a deal your way so soon.
He had always been better with patience.
Satoru, however, burned through his the same way a match devoured its own head, bright and careless of what came after. Suguru had learned to be slower. To savor the architecture of a downfall. To set each stone carefully, then watch you mistake the path for your own idea until the only road left led straight into his waiting arms.
The lotto ticket he and Satoru had purchased had been the first stone - planting the little idea in your mind to cheat on an exam. A deal with old man Sukuna to give them a lucky one if he got a piece of the cut.
A fair trade, though Suguru had been unwilling to agree at first. Need had a way of outgrowing logic. It would only be one time, he told himself. Surely, you would forgive him.
The next stone was Nanami.
It wasn't difficult to guess that you would end up in the cheapest apartments in town. It was even easier to send that grief-ridden orc a deal. Suguru could have forced him, bought out the complex, posed as your landlord, but force was messy. Grief can be coaxed, especially if you play nice enough.
A conversation between heartbroken souls. A sympathetic tilt of the head. His voice was kind as he spoke of old lovers and second chances, of souls misplaced by death and doors that could still be opened for the right price. He had watched Nanami's jaw tighten in thought. Witnessed that careful, moral man consider such a sinister offer.
All Nanami had to do was play along.
Push you where you needed to go.
Let his loneliness rot into something useful.
Suguru exhaled softly through his nose, the sound almost a laugh, almost a sigh. Beneath him, Satoru had shifted to nuzzle Suguru's crotch.
The succubus knelt between his lover's legs. White hair spilled through Suguru's fingers in soft, disordered strands, damp at the roots from rain and all that restless hunger Satoru carried beneath his skin. His horns, pale and smooth, caught the low amber light when he moved. His tail lashed once against the rug before curling around Suguru's ankle, impatient as his hands freed Suguru's cock.
Suguru threaded his fingers deeper into that snowy mess and guided his head down, pushing his glossy pink lips past the angry tip and all the way down to the dark hair at the base. The tail tightened around his ankle as Satoru gagged and choked before coming up for air with a blissed smile on his lips.
Satoru, at least, had never pretended to be patient.
He came home from your little store with his pupils blown wide, blue eyes too bright, mouth still curled around that awful little smile he wore whenever he had the chance to be near you. Suguru had seen it immediately. The flush along the tips of his pointed ears. The way his wings had flexed beneath his jacket, eager and cramped, as if he had needed to unfold himself around you and had only barely remembered not to.
Poor Satoru.
Always hunger first. Restraint second.
He had barely lasted long enough to get through the door before collapsing to the rug, long limbs eager to crawl to Suguru's feet, pressing his face against Suguru's thigh while whining about how cute you are when you're miserable.
Suguru had told him to be quiet.
Satoru didn't even consider listening, far more interested in moaning around his lover's cock.
Suguru tilted his head back, keeping a firm hand in Satoru's hair in case he decided to nip more than usual, picturing how the old you used to do the same.
But the new you was different and was handed a much more unfortunate set of cards.
You beneath the lights of that miserable store. That ugly vest hanging from your shoulders. The tired shine in your eyes as you pretended money didn't matter, and the shame of being the first to arrive in hell despite all your reincarnations.
He should have enjoyed it more.
He should've let you struggle a little longer, watched you claw through another week under Sukuna's thumb and endure Nanami with his grief-stricken appetite. That had been the plan, hadn't it? Hope, then pressure. Mercy, then need. A door opened only after every other exit had vanished.
Suguru knew better than to rush a cage.
A cage built too quickly looked like a cage.
And yet, when you had stood there looking at them as if they were an inconvenience instead of destiny, a new emotion pulled at his heart.
Not guilt.
Possession, perhaps.
Recognition.
The old ache of seeing your soul wearing a new life and knowing it still belonged to him. Your eyes held different memories. Your mouth formed different defenses. But the soul beneath it all still flinched all the same.
Still stubborn. Breakable. Trying so hard not to need anyone.
Suguru's fingers tightened in Satoru's hair.
Satoru made a muffled, pleased sound. Tongue sliding against the length, slurping around the tip before his tail began to slide up Suguru's thigh.
Sure, it felt good, but so did thinking of you.
So close and yet you were still staring at them as if they were strangers. As if they had not waited through death after death for you. As if Satoru had not ruined countless bodies trying to forget the sound of your voice. And that Suguru hadn't bargained and learned the shape of every dirty little rule Hell had to offer just to drag you back within reach.
You truly were a perfect reincarnation.
Suguru reached for his phone.
The screen lit beneath his thumb. Three tickets to the overworld waited in his cart, each one obscenely expensive and worth less than the look that would cross your face when you finally understood.
He purchased them without hesitation.
Their sentence would have to be made up eventually.
So would yours.
But what was time to creatures like them? What was punishment when money could ease the edges for a while? Creating a chain long enough to make sure each of you reincarnates together every single time.
Forever, if Hell allowed it.
And if Hell didn't, Suguru would simply find the rule that could be bought.
૮₍ ´˶• ᴥ •˶` ₎ა
You must have been incredibly stupid.
At least, you were more than sure that was what Sukuna would have said if he could see you now, currently tangled with not one, but two of his customers on the couch in his office.
The office he had sworn was off-limits to you.
It wasn't even the nice leather couch.
It was the questionable couch across from it, with the sunken cushion, a few questionable stains that smelled a little too off to be considered food or even sex, and a spring poking into your knee like it, too, was punishing you for your questionable decisions.
Satoru only laughed softly beneath you, ever the flirt with little to no shame. You straddled his waist while the warmth of his slender hands traveled over the span of your body, peeling clothes from your skin and tossing them onto the floor with ease. With each lost garment, he guided you deeper into another kiss, each press sweeter than the last and even cheekier with the occasional nip.
Not hard enough to draw blood.
That would certainly send Suguru into a frenzy.
Yet the sharp nips should have hurt, given his fangs. Instead, they sent heat low into your belly and dissolved every sensible thought in your pretty little head until they started packing their bags and leaving without a forwarding address.
You had read about succubi before. Hell, there were warning pamphlets attached to every box of condoms.
About how easy it was for them to make the mind go fuzzy. How one kiss could make someone more addicted to sex than any other drug imaginable. How desire could push every warning away and leave only the thought that this was, somehow, an incredible idea.
The pamphlets had undersold the experience entirely.
One kiss had been enough to make the pen slip from your fingers after signing. It made the contract seem small, just another set of terms and conditions you would've clicked through when registering for a new login. Temporary. Necessary. Probably fine, especially when every red flag that popped up in your mind slowly turned itself green.
Who cared if they were paying for your body?
Who cared about the little nicknames he kept calling you, like puppy, lover, or the way he kept murmuring about how much he missed this when you had never met him before? Let him picture whoever he wanted as long as you got your fill, right?
Satoru's lips moved with yours, guiding your hips against his. The growing hardness beneath you made your stomach twist with want, desperate to be filled. He could tell. You knew it by the little smirk he wore between kisses, and the soft, pleased hum under his breath that made the office feel far too cramped and hot.
Every kiss pulled another thought loose until all that remained was warmth, want, and the awareness that you were probably going to regret this later.
You heard a buckle unfasten and hoped it was Satoru, though your stomach churned at the feeling of someone behind you. A cold hand groped your breast while the other rested at your throat, pulling you away from Satoru's kiss only to guide your love-bitten lips to the owner of the cold hands. Suguru's tongue swept away any blood left from the small nips his lover had caused, all while Satoru shrugged his pants down from beneath you.
Maybe you got lost in Suguru kissing you senseless. Maybe it was the feeling of Satoru's thumb pushing your panties aside so he could touch you. Or maybe it was Suguru only breaking away to kiss your neck, soft enough to make you forget what his mouth was made for.
"Relax," Suguru whispered as you dropped yourself onto Satoru, who sang out one of the prettiest noises you had ever heard.
Manic blue eyes met yours as you slowly moved up and down, his hands helping guide you.
"All will be well."
You felt more of Satoru than you did the bite on your neck, more of his warmth than the dizzying pull of losing blood. Satoru thrust upward helplessly, with no real rhythm, only the need to push himself deeper, to keep you there, to fill the office with pitiful cries about how much he loved you and how he could not wait to spend eternity with you.
Suguru's hand stayed between your thighs, toying with your clit, until you cried out, drinking from you until he was full.
You only felt warmth after that.
The feeling of falling, then being held, then being wanted again before dozing off against Satoru's body while he continued his desperate rut and Suguru joined alongside him. No pain from being stretched full. Only the dizzy feeling that everything was going to be okay. Your blood scented the air, thick and sweet, but your mind couldn't care less.
It all felt too good.
Satoru's tail curled around your thigh with a pleased little flick.
"See?" he said, blue eyes hazed and half-lidded. "Told you we'd take care of you, puppy."
The nickname should have made you pull away.
It didn't.
Everyone was evil in Hell.
You knew that by now.
But with Satoru warm beneath you and Suguru cool against your back, with the rain tapping against the office window and the locked door keeping the rest of Hell outside, you let yourself believe, just for a moment, that maybe this version of hell would not feel so particularly awful.
Which, in hindsight, was probably how Hell got most people.
૮₍ ´˶• ᴥ •˶` ₎ა
You awoke to the long scrape of a rough tongue against your bare cunt and ass. Too big to be either Satoru's or even Suguru's tongue. You tried to move, but a large, firm hand was holding you in a rather embarrassing doggy-style position that left your more intimate regions exposed, with your cheek pressed against the coarse fibers of the couch. The softness of Satoru's chest was no longer there.
The spring still dug into your knee, far more aching now than before. Instead of heat swelling within your belly, it was just cold, hard fear.
"Satoru?" You croaked. A whimper had threatened to escape. Trying to remember what happened. When they left. Was this all just a cruel prank?
All you were greeted with was a far too familiar chuckle that sent your heart straight to your ass.
"Such a dumb dog," Sukuna cooed.
You felt a hot breath on your cunt before the rough muscle circled your tight rim with just the tip. Paired with a cold piercing that threatened to push past your hungry muscle. A hiccup escaped you before you tried to move. Only to remain where you were. One of his hands, maybe two? Sent a painful slap to your ass that had you yelping like the animal he claimed you to be.
"Mr. Sukuna." You tried not to whimper. You really did, but it was more of a sob that escaped you as his tongue spilled from his stomach, leaving his regular mouth free to speak. "I didn't mean to break - "
Another spank, much harsher than the last, paired with a playful whistle.
"Crybabies aren't really my type, but those two for your contract said I could get a little action. Y'know for breaking our agreement and all."
The tongue plunged through without care - the aphrodisiacs from Satoru must still be in effect. Despite the tearing feeling of being stretched to accommodate such girth and length, you felt like you were going into heat.
"I usually prefer cunt, but I don't exactly want to lick another man's cum, much less two - hope you don't mind me taking my payment"
You tried to form a sentence - most of the noises that escaped were more animal than anything else, " They didn't say - " the muscle continued to swirl eagerly inside you, "It's not in the contract."
Sukuna laughed loud enough that you could feel the vibrations from his tongue rattle your insides.
"Course it ain't. You think a couple of bastards like them are going to warn you before the dog bites?"
You twisted enough to look back at him, vision blurry, heart hammering somewhere high in your throat. He was smiling down at you with all four eyes bright beneath the singular office light, your folded contract pinched between two claws.
A bright red stamp: SOUL TIE ACCEPTED.
The muscle stopped its cruel movements, only for a second, as if Sukuna just wanted to see the look on your face when you realized how royally you had screwed up.
"What does that mean?"
Sukuna's grin widened.
"It means you really are a dumb dog, aren't you?"
You could only stare at him, mostly in mute horror.
He flicked the contract once, the paper snapping loud beneath the muffled hum of the convenience store outside.
"They didn't need a donor," he said. “Not with their money. Especially with all their willing fans. Hell, half the district would open a vein for those bastards - why would they need you?”
Your mouth parted, but nothing came out.
"They played you for their own reasons," Sukuna continued. “And you gave 'em an easy win."
The room started to spin, or maybe you were just about to throw up.
Satoru's easy affection. Suguru's gentleness. The contract. The money. The debt. Nanami's name curling like rot in your throat. Every choice you had made suddenly lined up in a neat little row, less like choices and more like stones placed exactly where your feet would fall.
Sukuna watched the realization crawl over your face.
There was no pity in him.
Only satisfaction.
"Enjoy the kennel, puppy," he said, tossing the contract onto the couch beside your face, right before continuing like your horror only added to the payment. "You'll probably be stuck with those bastards forever. Might as well help break you in, huh?"
