the perfect peasant s. gojo
synopsis: your whole life all youâve known is tending to gojo satoru, all you know is him. you wash his body, tend to his needs without a doubt. what happens when someone offers you a way out of it? do you take it, or stick to all youâve known?
pairings: prince!gojo x peasant!reader x slight!getou
content: HEAVY SMUT MDNI, breeding kink, oral!m receiving, rough sex, degradation, vaginal sex, pet names, creampies, (un)protected sex, obsessive traits, mentions of blood, name calling, mentions of weapons, slut shaming, possessive!satoru, gojoâs kinda crazy lol
gojo satoru was destined to ascend the throne, a crown already perched upon his silken white locks. and you? you were naught but a humble peasant, a mere pet. anger had no recipient, for your station was bestowed upon you at birth. your realms lay divided by an unconquerable gulf of rank and expectation, yet fate conspired to entwine your paths, even beyond the bloom of youth. to love satoru was to anchor your very existence.
his blue irises watched over you, making sure you scrubbed every spec of dirt off the chiseled gravel. heâd stare as you made his bed, or prepared his food. he was waiting for you to make a mistake, yet you fulfilled your duties, perfect as ever. the weight of disappointing him heavier than any other consequence. to the outside, he was cold, calculated, and an arrogant heir to the throne. inside the four walls of his chamber, he was a different kind of arrogant, and you assumed to be the only one who knew it.
it was no surprise to the kingdom; you sleeping with gojo satoru, of course. all eyes watched you cling to his side, always at his beck and call. after all, youâre the prettiest little thing. why wouldnât satoru make better use for you? whispers, stares, and disapproval were loud to you. some servant you were, when in reality you were gojo satoruâs pet, his concubine. and a sick part of you reveled in that fact.
your dress was now a patchwork of grime and faded hues, a testament to your daily toil and humiliation. the coarse fabric, never meant for comfort, scratched against your skin, chafing with each movement as your rag scrubs against the floor of gojoâs chamber. patches of dirt clung stubbornly to the hem, souvenirs of the countless hours you spent tending the prince.
the door slams open at six pm sharp, and enters a tall male, the build of a warrior looming over you from the entrance of the bedroom, as you were settled on your knees, bucket beside you. gojoâs scowl stains his pretty face, his hands clenching by his side, and his eyes trailing down to you. that godforsaken dress barely even fit you anymore, it was a disgusting piece of trash.
âtake it off.â the prince demands, causing your eyes to widen at his sudden command. âwâ what?â
âi said take it off, correct or incorrect?â you fumble with the buttons, fingers slipping through each loophole before you stand up, allowing the gown to pool at your ankles. gojo satoru is arrogant, hence the whispers on why he shouldnât be king float around the kingdom like no other. youâre pathetic to him, a good dog.
ârun my bath.â and thatâs exactly what you do. reaching to pull your gown back up, satoru sucks his teeth at the sight, waving his finger at you. âleave it there.â you nod your head slowly, on your way to the large golden bathtub.
you set the water just how he likes it; warm enough to heat him up, but not enough to burn his delicate skin. with doing so, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. lace was what rested underneath the gown, and thatâs the only thing that covered you. you tried to look deep down, tried to feel pathetic or disappointed at the sight of yourself but you didnât. you reminded yourself that your only purpose was to make sure satoru was content, even if it meant betraying yourself.
your feet move quicker than your brain, and before you realize it, youâre standing before the prince. âyour bath is ready, gojâ master.â you correct yourself, flustering at the slip up. the corners of his lips curl up at the sight of your panicked expression, his slender finger finding your lips. âhave you prepared it properly?â
âyes,â you reply eagerly, guiding satoru to the golden bathtub. water rests in the middle, flowing through the tub. the prince undresses himself, and you shield your eyes, even if youâve been exposed to the sight multiple times before. it was out of respect, and you respected him more than you yearned for him. the prince steps into his bath, leaning his head back as he settles down into the water. perfect, as always.
âyouâll have a new gown by sunrise, let that forsaken one rot in a trashcan. a peasant as pretty as you shouldnât be covered in dirt and grime.â the prince glances at you, like he was waiting for something. gratitude? oh right, âwhatâre you waiting for, dumb pet?â his voice erupts you out of your time-consuming thoughts. youâve undressed yourself down, exposing yourself fully to the white-haired heir. with a careful step, youâve entered the large tub across from him.
despite the hardships, your hands remain softer than his calloused ones. everything about you is in contrast to satoru; he was born lucky, you were born unlucky. from birth, your purpose was to scrub his shoes, and his was to look down at you. you werenât a princess or a soon-to-be bride, you were a peasant and nothing more than that.
your soft hands trail soap up his arms and down his chest; bathing him began a daily ritual. it wasnât sweet, or romantic, yet a task. a task to remind you that you were his pet, before you were his concubine. his pink lips press together and his eyes shut closed once your hands touch his body. a moment like this signified trust, his trust in you. trust that youâd always be by his side, throne or no throne.
the sun sets through the large window, causing the curtains to dim. the bathroom was silent, it typically always is after a bad day for the prince. another day of his parents trying to force a bride onto him, reminding him that he needs an heir to the throne. or maybe the townspeople whispered too loud for him to hear about how he isnât fit to be a ruler, that heâs still a child. his jaw ticks, and your hands slow down, trailing up his chest. the water ripples, and his eyes bore into yours. âwhatâs on your mind, princess?â wrong. you werenât a princess, but you couldnât control the smile on your lips when he referred to you, using that pet name.
the water lapped softly between your bodies, the scent of sandalwood soap clinging to your skin. his arms around your waist were possessive, his breath warm against the hollow of your throat. the anger in his voice from moments before had softened, banked into something low and heated, something meant only for you.
âso jealous,â he murmured, the words a lazy vibration against your skin. his fingers traced idle patterns on your hip, calloused pads dragging slowly. âthinking of some⌠noble lady in a distant court? with her perfect posture and her perfect pedigree?â a low, unamused chuckle. âboring. all of them. they wouldnât know what to do with their hands if it wasnât holding a fan or a dagger.â
he pulled back just enough to look at your face, his blue eyes catching the fading sunset light. they were sharp, calculating, even now. but the freeze-thaw of his temper had melted the ice from them, leaving something warmer, something dangerously devoted.
âtheyâd see you tending your garden,â he continued, his thumb circling your navel. âand theyâd see dirt. theyâd see a servant. they wouldnât see this.â his gaze swept over you, openly claiming every inch. âthey wouldnât see how you hold your breath when i kiss you hereâperfect, every time. they wouldnât see how your hands know my body better than any sword knows its hilt.â
he leaned in again, his lips finding your jaw this time, a series of slow, open-mouthed kisses. âtheyâd want a queen. a politically useful ornament.â his teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. âi want my pet. my perfect, filthy little peasant who scrubs my floors and knows my bath temperature without being asked.â
one hand slid down, cupping you between your thighs, his touch firm and claiming. âmy concubine. my secret.â his voice dropped to a whisper meant only for you, laced with that familiar, arrogant sweetness. âand iâll have a wife, yes. someone to sit beside me on the throne and smile for the court. but you?â he applied pressure, a quiet command. âyou get this. you get me. the real one. the one who gets so fucking angry at the council he could burn the castle down, and the only thing that stops him is remembering he has to come home to you.â
he kissed you then, finally, his mouth hungry and deep. it tasted of wine and authority and a desperation heâd never admit to. his tongue swept against yours, and for a moment, the crown, the kingdom, the whispersâit all fell away. there was only the slick heat of the water, the tight circle of his arms, and the dizzying, sickening truth he was branding into you with every touch:
they could have his name, his title, his future heir.
but they would never have this; this frantic, worshipful, needy piece of him that belonged to the peasant girl in his arms.
when he broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing unsteady. the prince was gone. just satoru , raw and wanting.
for a moment, even if just a split second, you feel at ease. like youâre on the same status as him. âi havenât finished picking the berries out of the garden.â you respond softly, and the prince lolls his head back, laughing at you. youâre unsure of whether you should laugh too, or not, so you simply smile. âyou can finish picking the berries when iâm gone tomorrow, iâm off to scout a potential wife in a rivaling kingdom.â
âthe higher upâs orders,â the male scowls, his eyes following the tiles on the ceiling. âwho are they to order me? iâm stronger than every one of them in this kingdom, i donât need to listen to their disgusting words. they talk to me as if iâm a child, as if iâm not worthy for the throne.â
you listen to each of his words, your fingers trailing down his biceps as the prince speaks his familiar anger towards the higher ups, including his parents. the ones he despised. you know better than to speak at a time like this, all you can do is offer your ear. âi am no child, i am heir to the throne. the crown will be mine, wife or no wife.â the hint of jealousy flowing through your veins, halted ever so slightly at his reassuring words.
but why would gojo satoru need a wife, when he had a sweet peasant like yourself?
the prince leans in closer, his arms extending to wrap around your waist, pressing your skin flush against his. his anger is often fuel for something else, he uses it as a weapon against you. his lips press against the soft skin of your neck, kissing lightly. his kisses were often lazy, like he was never bound to lose you. why rush when you were destined to be at his side for all eternity?
who would tend to him, if not you?
at sunrise, your new gown sat at the edge of the bed, where satoru once lingered before he was on his way to scout a wife. not by choice.
the gown was a vision of pristine beauty, its silk shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow. delicate embroidery adorned the bodice, with tiny pearls catching the light like dewdrops on a spiderweb. the color was a gentle lavender, reminiscent of a twilight sky, and the fabric cascaded in graceful folds to the floor, whispering with every movement. it was a masterpiece of elegance and refinement, a garment fit for a queen, yet possessing a quiet charm that spoke of understated grace.
your mouth falls agape at the sight, the gown was worth more than you ever were. words couldnât express gratitude, or the emotions coursing through your body. maybe this meant something, or it couldâve meant nothing at all. he had nothing but money to spare, a gown like this didnât even leave so much as a hole in his pockets. you purse your lips together, taking a glance at yourself in the mirror. were you worthy of a gown like this? right now, that didnât matter because you fell in love with how the beautiful piece of art fit over your body.
your eyes widen in shock when you hear the sound of a ticking clock above your head, you were supposed to be tending the garden, not gazing at yourself in satoruâs bedroom.
your feet lead you down the large staircase, eyes staring down at the embroidery designs covering your body. you donât even notice when you run into someone at the bottom of the staircase. youâre a nervous wreck, instantly dropping your face towards the ground, muttering apologies only to meet with the sound of unfamiliar laughter. âdust yourself off, why donât you?â eyebrows furrowing in confusion, youâve never heard this voice before. it was different; lighthearted, and a silver of kindness was underlying the maleâs tone.
you stand to your feet, eyes meeting with a tall male, he was around the same height as satoru, long black hair, and a smile on his pretty face.
âi beg your pardon,â you stammer, âthe fault is mine entirely. i was remiss in my attention, and now i am late.â he waves off your concerns with a gentle hand. âthe fault is mine, for i am unfamiliar with the customs of this place. i am but here for a meeting with your king.â
you study his features, noting the absence of satoruâs arrogance, and the lack of mockery that usually colored the voices of those within the castle. âare you acquainted with the kingâs solar? you have wandered far past the main entrance.â you inquire.
a chuckle escapes him, and he shakes his head. âalas, i am not. would you be so kind as to guide me? i apologize for the imposition.â your teeth worry your lower lip, and your fingers twist in the fabric of your gown. to assist him would surely make you even later for the tasks satoru had set, yet to refuse would reflect poorly upon you.
âfollow me,â you concede, leading him through the echoing halls, your feet padding softly against the cold stone. sunlight streams through the towering arched windows, illuminating swirling motes of dust and casting long shadows from the ornate tapestries. suits of armor stood guard in alcoves, their polished metal gleaming.
âi have not yet had the pleasure of knowing your name,â the gentleman remarked, his gaze fixed upon your back. you turn, a soft smile gracing your lips â a rare occurrence, for few had ever bothered to ask or even acknowledge your presence. âi am y/n l/n. are you perhaps a jester or some such?â
he laughs heartily, waving a dismissive hand. âgetou suguru, at your service. not a jester, though i appreciate the jest and the lack of formality.â you halt, turning to study him more closely. he was the prince of the rival kingdom, the one satoru was visiting â the very prince satoru held in such disdain. a wave of embarrassment washed over you, the tips of your ears flushing a faint pink.
âoh, forgive me, for i am heavily lost in thought.â you murmur, trying to further push down the embarrassment.
you gesture towards a grand, oak door, its surface intricately carved with scenes of mythical beasts and valiant knights. âhe resides in the solar, just beyond this door.â suguru turns to get a better look at your face, simply bowing his head. âthank you for allowing me a piece of your time,â you give a curt nod, keeping a polite smile on your face before scurrying out into the garden.
hours pass by, and youâre leaning forward, your knees pressing into the sharp grass as you pick the strawberries and toss them into the basket. your fingers move delicately, plucking the berries from the thorns. âquite the work you do around here,â suguru says from behind you, pulling your attention from your tasks once again.
âitâs simply my duty here, your highness.â you turn to get a better look at suguru, the wooden basket pressing into your lap. âplease call me suguru, no need for the formalities now. weâre out the prying eye of others.â
you smile softly, shaking your head. âvery well, suguru, what brings you out here into the garden? the meeting fared well, i presume.â
âoh, please, it was a simple meeting about our kingdoms coming to a ceasefire. no need for either one of us to be overtaking the other.â suguru responds calmly, plucking blueberries from the bush beside the strawberries. the berries fall into the basket gracefully and the sun is haloing around the long-haired male, casting out his features. you listen to him, your ears perking up at his words. at the sound of the proposal, you can only imagine satoruâs distaste for this outcome when all he wanted was to overthrow suguruâs father, dethrone him, and all.
you press your lips together, nodding your head along with his words before standing on your two feet and dusting your fresh gown. âa solution to all the problems, huh?â suguruâs lips curl up into a dangerous smile, his eyes following your every movement. âa solution to all the problems. iâll be on my way now, i hope to see you again. maybe the next time will be around my kingdom, hm?â
you return the smile, yours seeming to be softer than his. your eyes watch as he travels to his carriage, your focus returning to the berries before you carry your basket into the castle.
your ears recognize the sound of satoruâs voice, his frustration evident as him and his father, the king, argue through the long halls. âlike hell, iâd ever marry her or anyone else for that matter. soon, the throne will be mine so your words mean less, if not nothing to me.â
âwith that attitude, this throne will be getou suguruâs and youâll be kissing his feet.â the king remarks, resulting in gojoâs flared anger. youâre on your way to the kitchen to wash the fresh berries when satoru stops you in your tracks, eyes gleaming with fury. âmy chamber. find yourself there laying on the bed before i get there.â you almost squeal, quickly nodding your head. âyes, master.â somewhere along your frenzy, the berries end up in the hands of another peasant.
it takes no less than sixty seconds for you to reach satoruâs chamber, gown pooling on the ground beside the large mattress. the only thing covering your body being lace as you lay still, awaiting the princeâs return.
the door slams open, and you gaze down to see satoru undressing, a scowl etched upon his face. this marks the second day he has approached you with such a grim expression.
the chamber felt smaller than usual, the air thick with the scent of himâozone and worn leather and the sharp tang of his fury. you lay perfectly still, the cool silk of thegown pooled beside you a stark contrast to the heat of his gaze on your bare skin. he didnât look at your face as he shed his clothes, his movements jerky, violent. the thwack of his belt hitting the floor made you jump.
then he was over you, a shadow blotting out the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. there was no soft exploration, no whispered âprincessâ to ease you into it. just the blunt, insistent pressure of him, the sharp intake of his breath as he buried himself to the hilt inside you in one hard, claiming stroke. a choked sound escaped youâpart relief, part shockâand his hand clamped over your mouth, his thumb pressing down on your lower lip.
âquiet.â the word was a brutal puff of air against your ear. his rhythm was punishing, relentless. each thrust was a punctuation to the argument heâd just left, a way to hammer his frustration into something tangible, something he could control. you were his control. his hips snapped against yours, the slap-slap-slap of skin against skin the only answer to the kingâs words, the councilâs words, suguruâs words.
your hands came up to grip his forearms, your nails biting into his skin. you needed an anchor, something to hold onto as he used you, as he poured the roiling chaos of his soul into your body. your eyes found his, but he wasnât seeing you. he was seeing the sneering faces of his advisors, imagining the cold, pretty features of some foreign princess he was supposed to wed. he was seeing suguru smiling that calm, infuriating smile across a negotiating table.
his pace faltered for a second, his forehead dropping to rest between your shoulders. a tremor ran through him. âhis⌠peace⌠ceasefireâŚâ he growled into your skin, the words garbled by the rhythm he forced himself back into. âhe talks⌠like he knowsâŚâ
your own breath was coming in short, ragged pants. you remembered suguruâs voice, smooth as river stone. âa solution to all the problems.â you remembered the way his eyes had tracked the movement of your hands in the garden, observant, assessing. suguru saw the dirt on your gown, the labor in your fingers. satoru saw through the gown, saw the pet underneath. one saw a servant. the other saw a secret.
and now satoru was inside you, his body a confessional for his rage. this wasnât making love. this was a siege. he was storming the fortress of his own helplessness, and you were the willing, aching battleground.
âlook at me,â he suddenly commanded, his voice raw. his hand left your mouth and fisted in your hair, forcing your head up, forcing your eyes to lock with his. the blue was a hurricane. âthis⌠this is mine.â he punctuated each word with a deep, rolling thrust that stole your next thought. âmy⌠my fury. my⌠peace.â a humorless, broken laugh. âhe can have the damned treaty. he can have the bored nobles and the empty throne.. but this?â
he leaned down, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours, his body still moving within you, a steady, pounding drumbeat.
âthis is the only thing⌠thatâs mine by right.â his kiss was desperate, swallowing the moan you couldnât hold back. it tasted of tearsâhis, or maybe yoursâand salt and a profound, terrifying loneliness. when he broke away, his climax was a shattering thing, his body locking taut above you as he spilled himself inside you with a groan that sounded like a surrender.
for a long moment, the only sound was your combined, heaving breaths. the anger had bled out of him, leaving behind a hollowed, vulnerable exhaustion. he didnât roll off you. he just collapsed, his full weight pinning you to the bed, his face buried in the curve of your neck.
you didnât move. you could feel the rapid, slowing beat of his heart against your chest, the wetness of his tears mingling with the sweat on your collarbone. the silence was different nowânot angry, but profoundly sad.
you wanted to soothe him. to whisper that he was worthy, that he was more than their whispers, that you were his and his alone. but the words died in your throat, because the truth was a double-edged sword.
and that, more than any crown or treaty, was the most dangerous thing of all.
even in this intimate embrace, your thoughts wander beyond satoru, drifting to suguru. you should feel guilt for entertaining thoughts of another man while the one you love expresses his anger through you. his slender fingers intertwine with yours, and his gaze pierces into your soul â you sense that he can read your mind, aware that your thoughts stray from him.
his eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of hurt passing through them before being replaced by a determined glint. satoru pulls back just enough to look at you fully, his hands framing your face. âare you even here with me?â he whispers, his voice rough with a mixture of anger and vulnerability.
you try to focus on satoru, to push suguruâs image from your mind, but it's like trying to grasp smoke. âsatoru,â you begin, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.
âno,â he says, his grip tightening slightly. âdonât say my name if youâre not thinking of me. donât pretend like iâm the only one in this room.â he pushes deeper inside of you, a possessive move thatâs almost punishing, and you gasp. the pleasure is still there, but itâs tainted with a sharp edge of guilt and a growing sense of unease.
âtell me, pet.â he murmurs, his voice barely audible. âtell me what youâre thinking, tell me whatâs overtaking your mind whilst iâm right here.â
you press your lips together, pulling the woven sheet over your bare chest. could you say youâre worried about the kingdom? no, satoruâs not an idiot, he wouldnât fall for that lie.
âiâve heard talk, whispers and such about your father decrowning you for getou suguru, the thought worries me deeply, master.â the lie comes out faster than your brain can process it, but you can only bite your tongue, praying that satoru will believe you.
his eyebrows crinkle and his chest is exposed to you, âthe crown will stay mine, as will the throne. over my dead body, iâd allow my idiotic father the will to restrict me from the throne i was born to have.â
with those words, satoru arises from the soft mattress and trudges to the restroom. he didnât mention anything about setting his bath, he just walked away from you. clearly, the matter affected him more than he would like to admit. the thought of suguru taking his crown, his throne made his jaw clench with an anger youâve never seen before.
you contemplate on the best possible solution, given the fact that you would consider him your friend before becoming his servant. he wasnât always this way, not in adolescence, despite being heir to the throne, even at seven years old. his fate never changed, as did yours. the words of seven year old satoru swim around in your mind, âwhen iâm king, youâll never be a servant again.â it was a stupid promise, but that promise was the reason you had so much hope in anything. part of the reason why you eagerly kept satoru content, disregarding your self respect.
your eyes flicker to the cracked door, uneasy floating around in your stomach before satoru walked out of the restroom. his hair fell on his forehead, and his eyes held a hunger behind them. âturn around,â the prince commands, and you do so. a humiliating state for you to be in, face burying into the pillow with your ass in the air.
you can hear the faint shuffling behind you, the quiet breathing that escapes satoru. you donât say anything, what could you say to help soothe his problems? nothing. there was nothing for you to say, so to help him, you could offer yourself up to him.
the air in the room grew taut, electric with the hum of his unchecked agitation. you obeyed, turning onto your stomach, the cool pillow pressing into your cheek. your body was a open, trembling invitation, ass high, back archedâa offering born not of desire, but of desperate penance. you could feel his gaze, a physical weight scorching the skin of your back, traveling down the curve of your spine to the place where you were most exposed, most his.
he didnât touch you at first. the silence was a slow, deliberate torture. you heard the soft shush of his own skin as he moved, the hitch in his breath. then his knee pressed into the bed beside your hip, and his handâthat powerful, calloused handâcame down on the back of your thigh. not a caress. a brand. a possession. he slid his palm down, over the swell of your ass, fingers splaying wide, possessively claiming every inch.
âsuch a good little pet,â he murmured, the words slick with a poisonous sweetness. âpresenting yourself so nicely. is this what you want? to be used? to forget?â his fingers dug in, pulling your cheeks apart, the cool air of the room kissing the wet, aching heat heâd left behind. a low, depraved groan vibrated in his chest. âso loose from me already. greedy. you take everything i give, donât you?â
you whimpered, the sound muffled by the pillow. it was true. you did. you took his anger, his seed, everything. you took it all and begged for more, because it was all you had of him.
then his other hand fisted in your hair, not to hurt, but to hold, to anchor you as he guided his swollen cock back to your entrance. he didnât thrust. he just pushed, inexorably, filling you again, stretching you wide on a slow, relentless invasion. a full, broken gasp tore from your throat. he was everywhere.
âthis is mine,â he growled, his voice a raw scrape against your ear as he bent over you, his chest heating your back, his hips not moving yet. âthis hole. this body. this mind.â he punctuated each claim with a tiny, torturous roll of his hips, making you feel every ridge, every vein. âwhen i fill you, there should be no room for anything else. no other face. no other voice.â
finally, he began to move. not the frantic punishing pace from before, but a deep, purposeful grind. each stroke was a statement, a verdict. he was re-marking his territory, overwriting the ghost of another princeâs smile with the brutal, beautiful reality of his own possession. the sound was different nowâless of a slap, more of a deep, wet shluck as he pulled out and pushed back in, steadily, relentlessly.
your fingers scrabbled at the sheets, your knuckles white. the pleasure was there, a insistent, coiling heat in your belly, but it was tangled with a shame so thick it was almost a flavor in your mouth. you were his instrument, his confessional, his canvas for rage. and you were loving it. the degrading angle, the total loss of control, the way he owned you from the inside outâit was a perverse kind of worship.
âlook at you,â he breathed, his thrusts gaining a punishing rhythm, his hand still tangled in your hair, forcing your head up. âmy beautiful, filthy pet. taking my cock like you were made for it. because you were.â his other hand came around, sliding between your thighs, his fingers finding your clitânot teasing, not playing, but claiming.
he circled it with a firm, unyielding pressure, a direct command to your traitorous body. âcome for me now. let me feel it. prove youâre here with me.â
his words were the match. the tension in your core shattered. your release was a silent, shuddering thing, your walls clamping down around him in waves that made his thrusts hitch. he rode it out, his own control a fraying thread. with a final, guttural cry that was more pain than pleasure, he buried himself to the hilt and came again, his seed flooding you, his body locking you in place, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.
he stayed there, inside you, connected to you in the most fundamental way. the furious tempo of his breathing slowly synced with yours. his hand in your hair loosened, his fingers now just resting there. the hand on your clit slid up, over your stomach, and splayed flat, possessively covering your lower belly, as if he could physically hold his seed inside.
for a long, long minute, there was only the sound of breathing and the distant chirp of a night bird outside. the anger had bled away, leaving behind a devastating, quiet. a quiet more frightening than his fury.
he finally pulled out, the loss of him feeling like an amputation, and collapsed beside you, not touching, just lying in the same pool of spilled intimacy. his voice, when it came, was hollow. defeated.
âhe has a peace treaty,â satoru whispered to the ceiling, the words hanging in the dark. âhe gets to play the benevolent prince. the reasonable one.â a dry, humorless swallow. âand i get⌠this.â
he gestured vaguely between your two bodies, at the mess on your stomach, the still-quivering aftermath of your shared violence.
âhe gets the kingdomâs admiration. i get⌠you.â the words were an accusation, a prayer, a dirge all at once. âand youâre thinking of him.â
you closed your eyes, the lavender gown a forgotten ghost on the floor. the lie had been cowardly. the truth was a death sentence. you were thinking of suguruâs calm smile, his easy laughter, the way heâd called you y/n instead of servant or pet. you were thinking of a peace that didnât require blood or submission to achieve.
and satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the kingdom, the furious, glittering heir, was lying broken beside you, knowing it.
from behind, satoruâs slender fingers zip your gown slowly, and he looks at you from the mirror, his body pressing into your back. you look into the reflection of yourself and him, the corners of your lips curling ever so slightly. âtoday, we will go to the village. find me a stone, the sunstone would be nice, in particular. donât fret regarding the price. complete that task, while i complete a task of my own.â you turn around to look at the prince, nodding your head at his words.
the carriage ride to the nearing village was quiet, eyes following your movement. the people of the palace were confused as to why satoru was bringing you out into the village â why couldnât he go alone? your fingers twist the fabric of your gown, and his hand hovers over top of yours. âstop the worrying, wonât you?â
you canât help but worry, what were the townspeople going to see when they caught sight of you and satoru together? it wasnât glorified, nor a public relationship. more of you playing your role as a pretty pet for the prince. âyouâll ruin the gown, is that what you want?â
âof course not,â you respond, voice coming out softer than usual. âstop the carriage here.â the prince voices out, his eyes not peeling from yours.
âthen twist something else.â he retorts, before the carriage doors open, allowing you a better view of the village.
as you step onto the cobbled streets, all eyes turn towards you â or rather gojo satoru. the villagers, a mix of weathered farmers and sturdy craftsmen, pause in their tasks to scrutinize the prince, and you. your teeth worry at your lower lip before satoruâs lips find the crest of your ear. âdonât be late finding your way back to me.â his hand rests on the small of your back.
the hand on your back wasn't comfort. it was a brand. a slow, searing pressure that followed the line of your spine as you walked away, a silent, possessive mine radiating from his palm into your bones. the marketplace noiseâthe haggling, the clatter of carts, the laughterâfaded into a dull roar. your mind was a frantic bird trapped in your chest, beating against the cage of your ribs.
satoru always knew. it was in the way his eyes had narrowed when youâd flinched at his touch, in the hollow, defeated quiet after. heâd felt the shift in you, the mental withdrawal. and now he was sending you here, into the open, with a simple, impossible task. find me a sunstone. it wasnât about the jewel. it was about the village. about him.
your feet carried you on autopilot, the lavender gown whispering against your legs a constant, guilty reminder of the gulf between what you were wearing and what you were. a queenâs dress on a traitorâs back.
âah, forgive me.â a deep voice exclaims. a hand, strong yet gentle, reaches down to help you up. you look up into the face of the man you bumped into, and your breath gets caught in your throat. suguru was strikingly handsome, with kind eyes and a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. âand so, we meet again, huh?â
suguru helps you to your feet, his fingers brushing yours. âwe meet again, and iâm somehow on the ground once more.â you tease, a small smile finding your lips. his voice is laced with genuine concern. âare you hurt?â you, flustered by his presence and the knowledge of who he was, stammer a reply, assuring him that you were fine. ânot hurt, just embarrassed. i always seem to not be paying good attention when we meet.â
you canât help but notice the genuine warmth in his eyes, so different from the cold animosity that resided inside gojo satoru. âwhat brings you to the village today?â
âiâm in search of a large jewel, no further information on that matter.â you reply, dusting your gown off. âand you? this village seems to be far, in terms of where your kingdom lies.â
âah, iâm searching for herbs. i decided upon myself that i was in quite the mood for traveling, so why send others to a task that i can easily handle myself?â you purse your lips together, your feet picking themselves up to walk alongside the prince. it would be far from well if satoru caught sight of you with suguru, but that thought lingered far in the back of your mind.
âvery well, not everyone has the mindset of you.â you reply, half-jokingly. âi know, sending a pretty girl like you out of your way frequently is the move of an idiot.â that idiot being gojo satoru. your lips pull together to let out a soft chuckle, while you shake your head at suguruâs words. âand what makes you think i donât like going out of my way?â
âstepping away is a breath of fresh air, sometimes itâs needed.â
suguru looks at you, his eyebrows creasing together. âfresh air? thatâs exactly what this village lacks. look around, take in the judgmental stares, the whispers. doesnât this remind you of the palace you reside in?â
his words sink into your mind, playing over and over â and heâs right. this village isnât much different from the palace, because youâre still judged, even if the people arenât the same. youâre still seen as the peasant that satoru fucks into his bed every night, thatâs all people will see when their eyes are boring into you. âtake it upon yourself to stop by my palace, at least once. at dusk, at dawn, time doesnât matter.â
you come to a halt, the stall that withholds the jewels, standing beside you. ânonetheless, iâll be on my way.â
âiâll hope to see you again, y/n.â you had almost forgotten your name after all these years. no one ever referred to you as yourself, you were just gojo satoruâs pet â the palace keeper, the servant.
this chance encounter had complicated everything, blurring the lines between loyalty and curiosity, and suguru left you wondering if everything you thought you knew about the rivalry between your kingdoms was a lie.
is that really the prince satoru had such a distaste for? was there something underneath the mask of kindness? or was his kindness just something satoru lacked, feeding into his misplaced anger?
you approach ryomen sukunaâs stall with a mix of trepidation and determination. the jewel sellerâs reputation preceded him â a shadowy figure known for his crooked dealings and an unsettling aura that made even the bravest think twice. his stall was tucked away in the darkest corner of the marketplace, flickering lamplight casting eerie shadows on the strange assortment of gems and trinkets displayed.
sukuna himself was a striking figure, his crimson eyes gleaming with an almost predatory intensity. a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he watches you approach, his gaze sharp and assessing. his voice like gravel, âwhat brings such a delicate creature to my humble abode?â
âi seek a jewel,â you speak, your voice clear despite the knot of anxiety in your stomach. âa large one, fit for prince satoru.â
sukunaâs smirk widens, revealing a hint of sharp teeth. âsatoru, you say? i have many jewels, each with its own unique⌠properties.â he gestures towards a velvet-lined case, where a dazzling array of gems glitter under the lamplight. âtell me, little bird, what kind of jewel does your prince desire?â his eyes bore into yours, as if trying to unravel your very thoughts. you knew you had to tread carefully; sukuna was not a man to be trifled with, and the fate of your task â and perhaps more â hung in the balance.
you take a deep breath, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling that sukunaâs gaze evokes. âprince satoru seeks a jewel of exceptional beauty and power,â you say, choosing your words carefully. âone that reflects his own brilliance and strength to become king.â
sukuna chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to caress your senses. âbrilliance and strength, you say? such qualities are indeed alluring.â he leans closer, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. âbut perhaps, for the right kind of enticement, i can find something that matches not only your princeâs extravagant tastes, but also your own exquisite charm.â
he gestures towards the case, his long, slender fingers lingering near a gem of deep, swirling blues. âthis âeye of the abyssâ holds the power to control fate itself,â sukuna whispers, his voice a seductive murmur. âbut i sense you desire something⌠brighter. something that mirrors the light in your eyes.â
your heart flutters. the jewel was magnificent, yet sukunaâs attention felt far more captivating. âit is intriguing,â you admit, your voice a bit breathless. âbut i seek something more⌠pure, more akin to the warmth you exude.â
sukunaâs smirk deepens, his gaze intensifying. âpure, you say? in this world, little bird, true purity is a myth. but perhaps⌠perhaps i have something that resonates with the hidden depths of your soul.â
he retrieves the sunstone, its golden light bathing his features in a seductive glow. âthis is the sunstone.â sukuna purrs, his eyes never leaving yours. âit brings joy and prosperity, but its true magic lies in revealing oneâs deepest desires. tell me, little bird, what does it reveal to you?â
your breath gets caught in your throat. the sunstone was perfect, but sukunaâs words hinted at something far more intimate. âhow much?â you manage to ask, you voice barely audible.
sukunaâs smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with playful anticipation. âah, the price,â he starts, his voice lacing with amusement. âletâs just say, it involves a secret, a memory, or perhaps⌠a favor.â he pauses, his gaze lingering on your lips. âbut who knows? maybe we can negotiate something even more⌠personal.â
your bottom lip gets caught in your teeth, and dread fills your body. what exactly were you signing up for, talking to sukuna this way? you press your lips together, eyes following the black ink that paints sukunaâs skin. âiâll return once more, with something of value for you.â you speak lightly, your posture sharp and your eyes up.
âvery well, i hope to see you soon, little bird.â
the same words that left sukunaâs mouth, also left suguruâs mouth just a few moments prior.
the walk back to the meeting point was a blur. all you could hear was the echo of his words: âtake it upon yourself to stop by my palace.â
you were a live wire, humming with a terror that had nothing to do with satoruâs anger and everything to do with the terrifying, traitorous hope suguru had somehow planted in the barren soil of your soul.
satoru was waiting exactly where youâd left him, leaning against a stone well, a picture of idle grace. his eyes were on the approaching crowd, but they snapped to you the moment you entered his radius. they swept over you, the gown, your face. no smile. just that terrifying, placid calm that came before the storm.
then his hand was on your back again, guiding you firmly toward the carriage. the ride was a silent torture. his thigh pressed against yours, a solid, unyielding bar of muscle and menace. you could feel the tremor in him, a caged thing vibrating just beneath the surface of his stillness.
at the palace gates, as the carriage slowed, he leaned in. his lips were at your ear, his breath a icy wisp that made you shudder. âyou were late.â
you hadnât been. youâd been exactly on time. but the accusation was a formality. the real trial was coming.
âthe crowd was thick,â you whispered, the lie tasting like ash.
he didnât respond. just helped you out, his hand at the small of your back, guiding you through the corridors. servants bowed, their eyes darting between your disheveled hair (from the collision) and satoruâs thunderous expression. they saw a prince returning with his pet. they saw nothing of the war inside the carriage.
in his chamber, he shut the door with a final, definitive click. he didnât look at you. he walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a simple, dark dressâthe kind you wore when scrubbing floors. he threw it on the bed.
the command was flat. deadly. this wasnât the frenzied, angry claiming from the bath. this was something colder, more surgical. you undressed, the lavender gown falling away like a shed skin. the lace beneath was damp, not from sweat, but from a traitorous, lingering arousal that had nothing to do with satoruâs touch and everything to do with suguruâs proximity.
you were in the plain dress before he turned. his eyes went from the discarded queenâs silk on the floor to your simple, servile form. he picked up the gown, the beautiful, expensive thing. he held it over his arm like a butcher holding a cut of meat.
âhe saw you in this,â satoru stated, not asked. his voice was still quiet. âthe rival prince. saw my property parading around his territory.â
âi was on your errand,â you said, the defense weak even to your own ears.
âwere you?â he finally looked at you, and the glacial blue of his eyes was a frozen sea. âor were you on his? seeking his kind words? his fresh air?â
your blood ran cold. heâd been watching. not just the meeting, but the walk. heâd seen everything.
he took a slow step toward you. âyou think i donât know what he offers?â a humorless, brittle sound escaped him. âpeace. quiet. a life where youâre not a secret to be hidden in a bed.â another step. âhe offers you a cage with gilded bars. i offer you a throne.â he tossed the lavender gown onto the bed beside you. âand you stumble into his arms in the marketplace like a beggar looking for a handout.â
he was in front of you then, not touching, but his heat was a physical force. his hand came up, not to strike, but to gently, deliberately, cup your jaw. his thumb stroked your cheekbone, a mockery of tenderness.
âthe crown will be mine,â he breathed, the promise a venomous vow. âand when it is, you will wear silks worth a hundred of this rags. you will stand beside me, and every knee will bend. but you will belong to me. not to the court. not to the history books. not to the idea of a queen.â his grip tightened, just enough to bruise. âto me.â
he leaned down, his lips hovering a millimeter from yours. the scent of ozone and cold fury enveloped you.
âhis peace is a lie,â he whispered. âa pause before the war starts again. my loveâŚâ his other hand came up, fisting in the rough fabric of your new dress at your hip. âmy love is a weapon. and i will use it to keep you. even if i have to chain you to the throne itself.â
he kissed you then. it wasnât sweet. it was a conquest, a claiming, a desperate, terrified act of overwriting. his tongue swept in, not asking, but taking. It tasted of wine and winter and absolute, unyielding possession. when he pulled back, his forehead rested on yours, his eyes shut.
âgo to the village again,â he murmured, the words a paradox of command and surrender. âsee him. let him fill your head with his pretty lies.â
he opened his eyes. the hurricane was back, but now it was directed inward, a storm of pure, agonized need.
âbut when you come back to meâŚâ his hand slid down, gripping the back of your thigh, his nails biting through the dress. ââŚyou will remember who owns your mind. who owns your soul.â
he stepped back, releasing you. the space between you was an abyss.
ânow go. and be exactly as late as you wish.â
it wasnât permission. it was a test. a challenge. and as you turned to leave his chamber, the weight of his gaze on your back was heavier than any crown. you had been given a choice. and you both knew, with a terrifying certainty, which path you would take. not because you wanted to, but because you were his. his pet. his princess. his prisoner. and he would burn the world to keep you from ever finding the door.
the princeâs large arms engulf you and your back presses into the soft mattress, this is all youâve wanted, right? so why did a silver of you want to go to suguruâs palace?
you look over to see satoru sleeping soundly beside you. so much trust he had in you, to allow you to reside in his chamber, to be able to fall into deep slumber beside you. sucking in a deep breath, you move ever so slightly, testing the waters. the clock ticks, and reads twelve in the morning.
you stealthily slip out of the royal bedchamber. your heart pounding against your ribs as you navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, your destination the grand palace of suguru, a clandestine rendezvous you dared not miss. the silken robes you wore whispered against the cold stone floors, each step a gamble in this perilous game of secrets.
midway through your covert journey, hidden behind an ornate tapestry, you overhear the hushed tones of satoruâs parents. âthe arrangements are nearly complete,â his mother says, her voice laced with regal satisfaction. âthe gojo family will be pleased with this union; it solidifies our power and ensures a strong lineage.â his father adds, âsatoru must understand the importance of this marriage. it is not merely a matter of personal desire but a duty to the throne. he will be pursuing this marriage.â
a wave of jealousy washes over you, threatening to consume you. the words struck you like a physical blow, each syllable a reminder of your precarious position. a marriage, a political alliance, things you could never be worthy of.
the grand palace of suguru suddenly seemed miles away, your mission tainted by the bitter realization that your devotion to satoru might never be enough. deep down, you already knew that. on one hand, going inside of suguruâs palace would be an ultimate betrayal to satoru, and on the other hand, why did that even matter? to satoru, you were a pet. not a person, and definitely not a wife.
the journey to suguruâs palace was fraught with anxiety. every rustle of leaves, every distant guard patrol sent shivers down your spine. you navigate the familiar paths with practiced ease, your mind racing with the potential consequences of your actions. what if you were caught? what if satoru woke up and discovered your absence? yet, beneath the fear, a flicker of hope burned bright.
reaching the gates of suguruâs palace, you were greeted by a familiar face. toji, suguruâs most trusted advisor, awaited your arrival, a knowing smile playing on his lips. he leads you through the opulent halls, the silence amplifying your anticipation. finally, you arrive at suguruâs private study. as the doors swing open, your breath gets caught in your throat. suguru stands by the window, gazing out at the moonlit gardens, his silhouette a beacon of hope in the darkness.
âah, so i see youâve made your mind about needing fresh air, hm?â suguru comments, turning to get a better look. âperhaps, i can only hope you refrain from changing my mind.â
suguru ticks his teeth, his red tongue sliding over his lower lip. âiâm glad we share the same hope about something.â you brush yourself down, taking a slow step toward the long-haired male. âis that so? why were you so eager for me to visit your palace, getou?â
âplease, call me suguru. like iâve told you before.â the male says, bringing a glass to his lips and taking a slow sip. âfor one, you mentioned needing a breath of fresh air and i can provide that for you, and i can provide many.. many other things. and two, youâre a pretty girl. i see why prince gojo has kept you around for so long.â suguru stands tall, his long haired clipped back out of his face, bringing out the dimensions of his facial structure.
âi have other qualities beside my beauty,â you comment, your eyes holding a strong gaze. âiâm aware. youâre also excellent at picking berries.â the tall male teases, a light chuckle escaping his mouth.
âthat much is very true, but i do have other qualities.â a soft smile creeps onto your lips, and youâre finding amusement in his teasing. this was the most normal conversation youâd had in years. suguru offered you a warmth you hadnât felt in a very long time, and you couldnât help but slip into him every passing moment.
one trip to the palace wasnât enough, so youâd find yourself with suguru almost every night â sneaking out of satoruâs bed, or lying about going to the village when in reality you were going to suguruâs palace. the lying shouldâve made you feel guilty but it didnât, considering satoru was set to be married anyhow. that fact, alone, was enough for you to feel okay with going off to see suguru. you knew eventually, satoru would figure it out, though. he wasnât an idiot, and you were a fool for treating him like one.
looking at the white-haired prince from the mirror, he stands behind you, his front pressing against your back as he brings a velvet box to your attention. he holds onto the box in front of you, allowing you to open it for yourself. âgo ahead, princess. itâs for you.â reluctantly, you open the box and your eyes meet with the sight of two pearl earrings.
you bring the box closer to the light, examining the two earrings. âtheyâre beautiful, what are they for?â you ask, your voice soft. satoru lets out a low chuckle, âcanât i just spoil my favorite girl?â he brings the earring up to your ear, clipping it perfectly. in your mind, this jewelry was only an apology for his upcoming marriage, the marriage you hadnât mentioned knowing to him once. the prince tilts your head so you can look back at yourself in the mirror, the pretty earrings dangling from your ears.
âtheyâre perfect, thank you, sir.â you murmur, fingers delicately brushing against the pearls. his lips fall down into a frown at the title, it takes away the intimacy of the moment.
âexcuse me, for i must retrieve the jewel you tasked me to provide for you.â satoru opens his mouth to speak, but quickly shuts it again. he simply nods his head, turning his back as you exit the bedchamber.
the trek back to the village felt longer this time, each step heavy with anticipation and a growing unease. the once-familiar dirt path seemed to twist and turn, mirroring the turmoil in your mind. the air hung thick and humid, the cicadasâ drone a constant, irritating buzz.
the village itself was a hive of activity, the marketplace bustling with merchants hawking their wares and villagers haggling for the best price. the smells of exotic spices, ripe fruit, and freshly baked bread filled the air, a stark contrast to the grim task ahead. you navigated through the crowd, your eyes scanning for sukunaâs familiar crimson stall.
there he was, lounging on a cushion, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. he looked every bit the enigmatic and dangerous merchant, a predator amidst unsuspecting prey. a shiver ran down your spine despite yourself.
âsukuna,â you greet, your voice carefully neutral.
he grins, a flash of sharp teeth. âback so soon, little bird? come to admire my exquisite collection again?â
âiâm here for the sunstone,â you state, cutting to the chase. âi have the payment.â
sukunaâs grin widens, but there was a strange glint in his eyes. âah, the sunstone. a treasure indeed.â he leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
âunfortunately, my dear, youâre too late.â your heart skips a beat. âwhat do you mean?â
âsomeone else has already acquired it,â sukuna purrs, enjoying your obvious dismay. âa very generous patron, i must say. they recognized the stoneâs true value. they sure were eager to exchange a few secrets for the stone.â
âwho?â you demand, your voice rising slightly, betraying your anxiety. âwho bought the stone?â
sukuna chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. âthat, my little bird, is a secret i intend to keep. letâs just say they have... plans for it.â he leans back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. âperhaps, you should try again next time, y/n. but be warned, the rarest treasures are often the most elusive.â
you clench your jaw, fists tightening. this is the first task youâve failed to complete, and as simple as it all seemed, satoru would easily notice that something was off. you were perfect to him, never left a spot, never made a mistake. despite whatever satoruâs purpose was with the jewel, you failed to retrieve the item.
your teeth bite at the skin on your lower lip, as you contemplate the options at hand: go back to the palace and tell satoru the truth, or run away to prevent facing him.
with slow feet, you reach the palace again. walking through the prickly garden ground, you reach the large gates. afraid of what lingers behind the mist of it all.
you slip through the palace gates, the grand archway looming like a judgmental sentinel. your heart hammering against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of your stealthy movements. the air hung heavy with the scent of jasmine and the distant echo of courtly music, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within you.
each step was a calculated risk as you navigate the labyrinthine corridors, the polished marble floors reflecting the flickering candlelight like treacherous mirrors. shadows dance in your peripheral vision, morphing familiar tapestries into menacing figures. you hug the walls, fingers trailing along the cool stone, seeking solace in its solid presence.
the weight of your failure pressing down on you, each ornament and luxurious furnishing serving as a reminder of the task you had bungled. the vibrant colors of the royal banners seemed to mock you, their intricate designs a testament to the order and prosperity you had jeopardized.
you could almost feel satoruâs piercing gaze on you, his arrogant demeanor a mask for his sharp intellect. the thought of facing him, of admitting your defeat, sent a shiver down your spine.
you reached satoruâs chambers, the familiar sight of the door a beacon of hope in the sea of anxiety, hopefully he was already gone into the neighboring town. you slip inside, locking the door behind you with a soft click, and leaned against it, your body trembling with exhaustion and relief.
âwhatâs with the long face?â satoruâs voice erupts through the walls, as he exits the restroom and walks towards you. you freeze momentarily, before dusting your gown off. fingers digging into the material, âi couldnât retrieve the jewel, toru.â you admit, a deep sigh of relief escaping your throat. his crystal eyes widen at the nickname, you hadnât used it since you two were mindless children playing in the garden of a palace thatâs soon to be his entirely.
âwell, why couldnât you? youâve never had any trouble completing a task before, why now?â satoruâs voice is questioning, itâs almost as if heâs trying to accuse you of something. âmy perfect little pet has never made a mistake this grave before, so what the hell has happened to you?â his eyes are wide and heâs staring you down, his lips curling down into a scowl.
a slender finger is pointed at you and heâs beckoning you to come closer, to face him. your movements are slow, but eventually youâre face to face with the prince, ready for the punishment youâre about to endure. âyou want to make it up to me, yeah?â you nod your head carefully, âthen make it up to me, pet.â
you lick your lips, reluctantly dropping down to your knees. you look up at satoru, who rests his hand atop of your head, like heâs waiting to control you. like youâre a puppet on a string.
the wooden panels dig into your knees, your gown just barely protecting them. your hands fumble with the zipper of his pants before he sucks his teeth at you, pulling your face up to look at him. âuse your teeth.â the prince commands, his lips curling up into a dangerous smirk. you donât know whatâs worse; the command itself, or the fact that you had already begun unzipping his pants with your teeth.
his pants pool at his ankles once you tug at them with your teeth. your eyes gleam with joy at the sight of satoruâs bulge poking through, like itâs trying to escape the confinement of his undergarments. âdonât you dare lift a finger.â satoru warns, glaring down at you. you dig your teeth into the waistband of his undergarments, tugging them down until they meet with his pants at his ankles. his cock springs free from the restraints of his clothing, almost hitting you in the face. you gaze at the pre-cum leaking from his tip.
you leave a sweet, wet kiss to his tip. slow, sensual, before you start sucking. from the view, you witness his pretty blue eyes roll back. abs tensing. you lay your tongue flat across his tip, moving your mouth down slowly. you almost gag with every inch you take in your mouth, trying to accommodate yourself to his large size.
your sweet lips wrap around his angry, hot tip once again and this time you take him deeper down your throat. your cheeks hallowing out as you suck him in.
you pull your head back, your tongue laying flat and following the bulging veins on his pretty cock. your eyelashes flutter up at satoru, and youâre basking in the sight of his exterior crumbling apart at your hand. for once, you felt like you held some power over him.
at the sight of his dick entirely down your throat, and your glistening eyes staring back up at him, he feels his balls tighten, in need of a quick release. âjust like that, pretty girl.â satoru groans out, silver-hair sticking to his forehead. âyouâre a good fuckinâ pet.â
he grabs onto the top of your head, making sure his entire cock disappears in your mouth before letting his seed coat the velvety walls of your throat. he doesnât release his hold on your head, not until heâs sure heâs emptied out his entire load in your mouth. the prince pulls his cock back, watching spit fall down your chin.
satoru helps you onto your feet, his strong hands grasping onto your shoulders to help you steady yourself. he looks into your eyes, a hand brushing your cheek and despite all of the sex, this moment feels intimate â the same amount of intimacy you felt when he helped you put on the pearl earrings. ârun the bath, yeah?â his thumb finds your lower lip, and you nod at his words, your mind dazed.
what satoru felt for you didnât mirror how he acted â he wasnât one to talk about his feelings, he figured you already knew that he cared deeply about you. despite his cold demeanor, satoru would do anything for you. he would wage wars, cross oceans, and defy the gods themselves if it meant ensuring your safety and happiness. he was a prince, bound by duty and tradition, but his heart and soul belonged to you. and though he wouldnât openly declare his thoughts, he would protect you from the shadows, a silent guardian watching over your every step.
so imagine his surprise when he feels the mattress dip, and he feels you carefully extract yourself from the embrace of the silk sheets. satoruâs cerulean eyes, usually so vibrant, were half-lidded, watching your every move with amusement. you, however, remained blissfully unaware.
you slip out of the room and make your way out of the palace. the journey to suguru seemed to get shorter each time you marked your way. as usual, toji greets you at the large gate and leads you to suguruâs bedchamber.
suguruâs chamber was a sanctuary, a space where the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lift, if only for a moment. soft lamplight cast long shadows across the room, illuminating shelves lined with ancient texts and personal mementos. you sit perched on the edge of his bed, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the embroidered blanket. suguru watches you, his heart swelling with an unfamiliar tenderness he rarely allowed himself to express.
âitâs a beautiful blanket,â you murmur, gaze fixed on the blanket. âdid you make it yourself?â
suguru chuckles softly, âhardly. it was a gift from my grandmother before she passed. she believed in the power of handmade things, the way they carry the love and intention of the person who created them.â
you look up, your eyes meeting his. âpersonally, i believe sheâs right.â
a comfortable silence settles between you, filled only with the quiet rhythm of your breathing. suguru finds himself drawn to your gaze, the way your eyes seemed to reflect the depths of his soul. he longed to reach out, to touch you, to bridge the distance that separated the two of you, but he hesitated, unsure of how you would react.
suguru leans in, his hand gently cupping your cheek. and then, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a culmination of unspoken desires and hidden affections. the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you.
as your lips met, there was a spark of something within you â maybe regret, guilt, or maybe the anger at yourself for not leaving satoruâs side sooner. surely, he wouldnât care about you being involved with anyone else. he never claimed you as anything other than a pet, a good servant who he sometimes gifts to feel better about himself.
your back hits suguruâs mattress, his weight hovering over top of you. your gown falls to the ground, the clothing covering his body also evaporating, all while your lips remain unified as one. his tongue teases yours, his hands roaming down the sides of your body, slowly adjusting on your hips. his lips travel down, sucking on the sweet skin of your neck before finding solace on your areola.
one hand cups your left breast whilst his tongue keeps your right one company. his mouth wrapping around your nipple, and your mouth falling agape felt ethereal. all your worries and doubts disappeared when his mouth continued to trail down your body, leaving soft kissing that lingered. he looks up at you, strands of his black hair sticking to his face as he buries his nose in your heat. he peppers kisses to each of your thighs, his tongue tracing idle shape on your skin.
he pulls his head back up, eyes glistening with lust. your breath gets caught in your chest as you lay bare underneath the man, a nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to leave, to go back to the palace before satoru notices youâre gone.
sleeping with getou suguru is betraying everything youâve known, and worst of all, betraying satoru. your breath hitches when his tip teases your entrance, his eyes looking into yours for a sense of doubt. he breathes slowly, and your hand finds his chest before you nod your head.
slowly, suguru pushes himself inside of your leaking hole, a groan leaving his throat as he goes further. he starts off slow, his thrusts almost being a kiss to your pussy as his lips engulf yours. you moan into his mouth, teeth clashing as he kisses you hastily.
and then he starts fucking you. really fucking you. his hips snap violently against your ass, and his fat tip is curving up against your g-spot, you can feel him in your stomach. âah, youâre too fuckinâ tight.â suguru groans out, bringing his hand up to wrap around your neck â the sight disgustingly perfect. âpretty pussyâs sucking me in like this, fuckk.â he murmurs, his hand tightening around your throat.
his eyes meet with the sight of your tits bouncing with every one of his violent thrusts, heâs trying to fuck the memory of satoru out of you. your mouth falls open, inviting his thumb to find itâs home on your tongue. your lips wrap around his thumb, and you suck sweetly, eyes never leaving his.
he can feel himself slipping with every gaze of your eyes, every bounce of your tits, and every sound you make.
you gasp, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks as your hands clutch the sheets, your body jolting with every thrust. âyou gonna cry, pretty baby? this cock too big for you?â suguru smirks, his tongue rolling over his lower lip. you canât formulate a response, you simply relax your head further into the pillow.
suguruâs hand is quick to retract back to your throat, forcing your head up to look at him. âyou poor baby, you canât handle it?â he taunts, pulling his hips back just to slam back into you, your stomach bulging with every movement he makes.
your mouth falls open, but youâre unable to let out any sounds, afraid of anyone catching you in the act of betraying your prince. âaggh, iâm sososo close.â you cry out, and suguru only smirks at you, nodding his head tauntingly. âyeah, baby? you close?â
your brain is all foggy that you arenât even sure when suguru pulled out until you feel thick ropes of cum painting the skin on your stomach. you breathe out heavy, your release coming soon after his.
âlet me get you cleaned up, yeah?â suguru asks, running a hand through his silky hair. âyeah, thatâll be nice.â
the silken robes feel foreign against your skin, a stark contrast to the silken robes you acquired at satoruâs palace. you sit on the edge of the ornate bathtub, the water swirling with fragrant oils suguru had insisted on. he kneels beside you, his brow furrowed with as he gently caresses your cheek.
âyou okay?â he asks, his voice laced with worry. âdid i hurt you?â
you smile softly, trying to ignore the voice screaming at you in the back of your mind, making you feel guilty for sleeping with suguru. âno, no. iâm okay.â he sighs, his gaze softening.
suguru rinses the cloth, his movements precise and careful.
after, he helps you dress in a simple robe, he then murmurs something about bringing you tea. surely enough, within a few moments, suguru enters the bedchamber with two cups of tea in his hands. you stand up straight, your legs aching slightly as you reach for the teacup.
âwhy, thank you.â you smile softly, taking a sip. âanything for you,â
you begin wandering through the unfamiliar chamber, teacup in your hand, trying to shake off the unease that clung to you like a shroud. the bedchamber was beautiful, yes, but it felt⌠empty. cold. suguruâs back is facing you, and heâs glancing out the window.
the room was filled with scrolls and books, the air thick with the scent of incense and old paper. your eyes scan the shelves, landing on a small, intricately carved wooden box tucked away in a corner of his desk. curiosity piqued, you open it.
inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, lay a stone. not just any stone, but sunstone, the one sukuna told you someone else purchased. a wave of dizziness washes over you as you recognized the pulsing, malevolent energy that radiated from it â the same energy you had felt emanating from sukuna.
âwhat are you doing?â
suguruâs voice, sharp and cold, cut through the silence. you slowly turn to meet with his wide eyes. you hold up the stone, your heart pounding in your chest. âthisâ this stone.. where the hell did you get it?â
he steps closer to you, his eyes fixed on the sunstone. âah, so youâve figured out my secret.â
âi went to retrieve this stone from sukuna, why the hell do you have it?â
suguru didnât answer, his gaze hardening. âi was going to tell you, in time. but i see i have no choice now.âhe advances, and you step back. âsatoru canât be king, heâs arrogant, idealistic. itâll ruin his kingdom, and mine.â
âthe hell does it matter, you come from two different kingdoms. using sukunaâs stone, though? is that the real reason you were in the village?â
âusing the stone is the only way i can stop him.â he says, his voice devoid of emotion. âand what better way to hurt satoru by taking whatâs closest to him? that day in the village, i was there to find this stone then i happened to bump into you and i got distracted.â
suguru pauses, licking his lips. âbut then it piqued my interest when you said something about finding a jewel for satoru.â the long-haired male takes another slow step closer to you, and you step back, bumping into the desk.
âso you were using me to hurt satoru? to prevent him from becoming king?â you furrow your eyebrows, hand reaching behind to grab a book from
the desk. âi wasnât using you, i simply was intrigued and i got carried away.â
âbut, this, i canât let you tell satoru about it.â
suguru lunges forward, grabbing your arm. you struggle, but heâs too strong. your shakey fingers wrap around the spine of the book behind you, and you bring it up, slamming it to suguruâs face before running out of the bedchamber, not daring to see the aftermath. he stumbles back, a scowl on his lips, eyes widened in surprise as the book drops to the ground with a satisfying thud.
desperate to escape, you werenât paying attention to where you were going. you run straight into a wall of muscle. a gasp escaped your lips as you look up into the impassive face of toji. his eyes narrow, and a smirk played on his lips as he assesses your disheveled state.
âleaving so soon, pretty?â he rumbles, his voice a low, dangerous purr.
the world swims. your knees buckled, and the last thing you see is tojiâs stoic face before darkness consumes you.
when you next open your eyes, the air is cold and damp, and the scent of mildew assaulted your nostrils. you were lying on a rough stone floor, and the only light came from a flickering torch on the wall. panic claws at your throat as you realize youâre trapped in a dungeon.
your heart sinks, and you reach to stand up but a chain is wrapping around your ankle. hopeless, your back presses against the cold wall and you bury your face in your hands. how could you be so stupid? this wouldnât have happened if you just stayed in satoruâs bed at the palace.
the sun rises at the palace, and satoru wakes up to your missing presence. yes, the prince was aware of you slipping out of the chamber at midnight but he simply assumed youâd be back before he woke up in the morning. the white-haired prince sits up, eyebrows knitting together as his eyes dart to each corner.
he rubs his eyes, surely, he must be mistaken, right? nonetheless, satoru continues his daily ritual, assuming you were down in the kitchen or the garden.
the prince dresses himself, and begins down the large staircase, serving past the many maids and servants but none of them were you. he peeks his head into the kitchen, and surely enough, you arenât in there. he puckers his lips, finger tapping his chin in thought as he falls to take a seat on the last step. his long legs sprawling out, âsatoru, you are making a fool of yourself, appearing so improper.â his mother states, staring down at her son.
âa fool of myself? is that how you speak to the near-future king?â the silver-haired male retorts, folding his arms. âthat title can be stripped away as easily as itâs given to you.â
satoru steps up, his long figure hovering over the older lady. âhave you seen y/n?â his mother raises her eyebrows, âwho?â
âthe servant?â the silver-haired male purses his lips together, âthe one who whores herself out? i havenât seen her, and i rarely do, she seems to always be in your chambers. nonetheless, you should be ready to see your bride.â satoru wants to say something, but he doesnât. he brings a slender finger up to her face, âi need to see no wife, i refuse to, and watch your mouth.â as time passed, he found himself loathing his parents even more than usual.
nonetheless, satoru didnât stop short of looking for you; his cerulean hues darting to every corner and crevice of the palace. he hadnât even realized there was so many bedchambers in the palace until you were gone.
the garden was a painting of serene lies. the rose bushes, trimmed to surgical perfection by some hapless servant. the still pond, reflecting a sky too blue to be true. satoruâs boots crunched on the gravel path, but his mind was silent, a void where your laughter should have been. he saw the dirt on the leavesâwrong. the slight tilt of a blossomâunbalanced. this place was a cathedral to order, and everything in it was screaming absence.
getou suguru, strolling as if he owned the very sun that baked the flagstones. his long black hair was flawless. his smile, when his eyes met satoruâs, was a study in tranquil superiority. the picture of a prince at peace.
satoru stopped. the world narrowed to the ten paces between them.
âsatoru,â suguru said, his voice a smooth, practiced instrument. ârising early. or⌠searching?â his gaze swept past satoruâs shoulder, back toward the palace, as if he could see through stonewalls to the empty bedchamber.
âwhere is she?â the words left satoruâs mouth before he could clamp them down. no title. no mockery. just a raw, open demand.
suguruâs smile didnât falter. it deepened, actually, into something pitying. âwho? your little pet? i couldnât say. she seems a restless soul. a bird that longs for a different sky.â he took a single, infuriatingly calm step forward. âperhaps she finally found the courage to fly.â
the insult was a silk-wrapped blade. restless. pet. bird. and the implicationâthat he, suguru, was the skyâwas a declaration of war. satoru felt a familiar heat coil in his gut, but it was colder, sharper than his usual rage. this was the heat of a fuse burning down.
âyou,â satoru said, his voice dropping to a vibration only suguru could feel, âdonât get to talk about whatâs mine.â
âyours?â satoru laughed softly, a sound like rustling parchment. âhow possessive. but ownership is such a⌠fragile concept. a treaty can be signed. a marriage can be arranged.â his eyes gleamed. âa heart can change its mind.â
satoru saw it then. not just smugness. a flicker of something else in suguruâs eyes. not kindness. not malice. certainty. the certainty of a man who has already played his move and is waiting for the board to realize the game is over.
âyou saw her,â satoru stated, the pieces clicking into a terrifying picture. the village encounters. the âfresh air.â the sunstone. âyouâve been feeding her lines about peace and open skies.â
âi offered conversation,â suguru corrected lightly. âsomething you seem⌠stingy with.â his gaze drifted again toward the palace. âa girl like that⌠she deserves to be seen. not hidden away in your chambers like a dirty secret. she deserves a future.â
the air crackled. satoruâs crown, the weight of it, the destiny of it, all of it vanished. there was only this. the arrogant, correct bastard standing in his garden, speaking of his future with his property.
âmy future,â satoru said, each word a shard of ice, âis a crown on my head and her on her knees beside it. in blood, if necessary.â he took a step, then another, until he was in suguruâs space, his taller frame looming. âyou donât get to offer her a future. you donât get to see her. you get to look at the empty space where she was and remember that she always comes back to me. she always has.â
suguru didnât flinch. but his smile finally softened, becoming something genuine, and somehow more terrifying. âdoes she?â he asked softly. then he turned, as if the conversation was concluded. âyou should check your own bed. before you accuse others of stealing. some treasures just⌠slip away in the night.â
he walked away, leaving satoru standing in the gravel, a statue carved from pure, undiluted fury. the final piece connected. the sunstone. sukunaâs stall. your failure.
you hadnât failed him. youâd chosen to fail. to go to suguru. to let that smooth, reasonable voice fill your head with poison.
a low growl built in satoruâs chest. it wasnât a question anymore. it was a fact. suguru had you. not as a captive. as a convert. the thought was a physical sickness. he had whispered his way into the one place satoruâs raw power couldnât reach: the space behind your eyes. the place where you decided what you wanted.
satoru turned on his heel, the motion sharp enough to snap the stem of a rose beside him. he didnât run. he moved with a terrible, calculated purpose, each stride eating the distance to the palace. servants scattered before him, their paleness a testament to the storm in his wake. he didnât shout your name. he didnât roar. the silence was infinitely worse.
he reached his chamber. the door was shut. he threw it open.
the last thread of control snapped.
satoruâs scream was not a human sound. it was a rupture, a shockwave of pure, unadulterated loss that shattered a mirror across the room and made the crystal chandelier tremble. his fist punched the wall, again and again, not feeling the splintering stone or the blood that matted his knuckles. the boy-king, the arrogant heir, was gone. In his place was something ancient and ravenous. a claim had been violated. not a political one. a soul-deep one.
you werenât just missing.
and you had left satoru for him.
he stopped, breathing in ragged, broken gasps. the blood on his hand looked black in the dim light. he stared at it. the calm that followed was more frightening than the scream.
he wiped his bloodied hand on his tunic, leaving a rusty smear. he would not raze suguruâs palace. not yet. he would not shout your name in the streets.
he would walk into getou suguruâs palace like he owned it. he would find the room where you were, and he would see the proof on your bodyâthe bruises suguruâs hands had left, the scent of his pathetic, gentle cologne on your skin. he would see the sunstone glowing on a shelf, a blight on suguruâs âpeace.â
and then he would look at you. he would look into the eyes of the person who knew him best, who had felt his love as both a caress and a brand, and he would show you what happened to things that tried to leave.
satoru turned, his face a mask of serene, beautiful horror. the journey to suguruâs palace wasnât a sprint. it was a pilgrimage. every step was a promise. every breath was a litany.
the word was a hammer in his skull. a mantra. a death sentence for anyone who disagreed.
he stepped out into the dawn, the sun rising on a kingdom that had no idea its prince had just crossed a line from which there was no return. the game was over. the real hunt was beginning.
the thoughts eat away at him, and satoru decides to find out the truth for himself. each step he took was a calculated act of aggression, the ground trembling beneath him, mirroring the turmoil in his heart. the carriage door is slammed shut, and satoruâs jaw ticks. âiâm sure youâre exactly aware of where i want to go.â
the landscape, once familiar, now twisted into a grotesque mockery of its former self, seemed to mock him, amplifying his frustration. trees contorted into nightmarish shapes clawed at the sky, their branches heavy with the weight of your defiance.
the sky a canvas of stormy grays and ominous blacks, reflecting the tempest brewing within satoru. his eyes, usually bright with arrogance, now burned with a cold fury, intensified by a sense of betrayal. he moves with ruthless efficiency, each step driven by the singular goal of finding you, was now tinged with a bitter edge.
as he plunges deeper into suguruâs kingdom, the oppressive atmosphere grows heavier, the air thick with the stench of decay and disappointment. buildings once majestic now lay in ruins, their surfaces defaced with disturbing symbols that seemed to taunt him with your absence. the kingdom was a twisted reflection of suguruâs ideals, and now, in satoruâs eyes, a monument to your stubbornness.
he canât understand why you ran, why you chose this over him. this confusion only fueled his anger.
satoruâs senses are on high alert, every fiber of his being focused on finding you, but now with a mix of protectiveness and exasperation. the thought of you, willingly or not, being in this forsaken place fueled his anger, sharpening his resolve. he would find you, no matter the cost, and demand an explanation. his promise echoes in the shattered landscape, a vow of determination tinged with a possessive edge.
the air hangs thick and cold, heavy with the stench of mildew and despair. torches flicker, casting dancing shadows on the damp stone walls of the dungeon. chains rattle in the silence, the sound echoing off the cold surfaces, each link a testament to captivity. you were slumped against the wall, wrists raw where the metal bit into your skin, clothes torn and dirty.
the temperature drops further, a palpable shift in the atmosphere. a figure materialized in the torchlight, impossibly bright against the gloom. satoru. his white hair seems to glow, and his blue eyes, usually sparkling with amusement, were now sharp and cold. you sit up straight at the sight, unable to move any further.
âso,â he says, his voice dangerously soft, âthis is where youâve been hiding.â he takes a step closer, his shadow engulfing you. you flinch, trying to pull away, but the chains hold you fast.
âi can explainââ you start, but satoruâs quick to cut you off with the point of his index finger.
ârunning away, huh? did you really think you could escape me?â each word laced with a chilling disappointment. âdo you have any idea how worried i was?â
he stops right in front of you, his towering presence suffocating. he reaches out as he crouches down, his fingers brushing against your cheek, but his touch is devoid of warmth.
âi protected you, i took care of you, and this is how you repay me?â his voice raises, the contained anger finally breaking through. you stare up into his wide eyes, trying to push yourself further back into the wall.
you accept the harsh reality, youâre trapped, and itâs all your fault. âdid he touch you?â satoru looks at you, slender fingers grasping onto your chin. âdid you let him touch you?â slowly, and weakly, you nod your head at his words.
satoru laughs, but itâs humorless, and he yanks the chain out of the wall. you donât speak, not because you canât, but because youâre afraid to. you know everything about what satoru does to people who betray him, heâll kill you with his bare hands since itâs so personal, or heâll cut your feet off, making sure you never run again.
the prince helps you onto your feet before he scoops you up into his arms, as if youâre a runaway bride. how ironic. you donât look at him, you donât speak, and you barely breathe. the sight was truly pathetic, and you knew it.
the only thing you remember from the carriage ride back to the palace is the wandering eyes that seemed to linger on you for longer than usual. you donât remember waking up in satoruâs bedchamber, and you donât remember even entering the palace.
your eyes flutter awake, and youâre feeling around the bed, like youâre looking for something, or rather someone. the chamber is empty, and youâre laying under satoruâs sheets, a silken robe covering your bare body. there arenât any chains, no locks on the entrance, itâs the same as it always is.
betrayed by suguru, and betraying satoru. was he waiting to kill you? how did he find you? how long had it taken him? god, you could only hope it was a painless death. your feet drag lightly against the floor, eyes staring at the door. you itched to reach out, to run, but you were afraid of what lied beyond that door.
the door swings open, revealing satoru in all his glory. the corners of his lips are curling up into a smile, one devoid of any warmth. âthinking of running away so soon, princess?â you stand in place, fingers tugging on the silk material of your robe. âno,â you respond carefully, eyes boring into satoruâs as he stalks closer to you, like a predator circling itâs prey.
âgood,â the prince claps, âi have a surprise for you.â you look around the chamber, and he tsks his teeth at you, waving a slender finger. âno need to change, youâre fine just the way you are.â
you look down at yourself, at the robe with not a trace of clothing underneath, and it barely went past your mid thigh. he extends his hand out for you to grab, and with reluctance, you do. âdonât fret regarding your appearance, the palace is empty.â
your feet pad lightly against the marble tiles, âempty?â the palace was hardly ever empty, that sentence seemed nearly impossible to be true.
heâs leading you to your death, this it it. those are the only thoughts swimming through your head, your heart beat increasing rapidly. âcare to know whyâs empty?â satoru doesnât spare you a glance when he speaks, and he stops in his tracks in front of the dungeon. you stop beside him, looking down at the spiral staircase before your eyes meet with satoruâs. âi killed them all, my parents, the shitty servants, and suguruâs parents. i killed everyone that was standing in the way of me receiving my rightful throne.â
you laugh, shaking your head at satoruâs words, but his smile doesnât give you any ease. âyou must be speaking nonsense..â you say, your voice soft, and laced with confusion.
ânonsense? you must not know who youâre speaking to,â the white-haired male leans closer, lips hitting the crest of your ear. âyouâre speaking to your new king.â he presses a finger into your back, urging you to travel down the staircase. heâs following behind you, finger still sinking into your spine. your eyes widen slightly, and your fingers tremble as you continue to walk down each and every step carefully. you had nowhere to go, no one to save you from this inevitable consequence.
your breath hitches once you reach the bottom of the staircase, satoru still standing behind you, watching you. your eyes widen at the sight of blood coating the tiles and the walls, and the sole survivor of this massacre. âah, the infamous suguru getou.â satoru smiles widely, taking measured steps toward the long-haired male. he pulls the cloth out of suguruâs mouth, his smile never fainting.
âyouâre sick,â suguru spits out, eyes glaring up at satoru, whoâs rather amused. âoh?â satoru laughs, turning to look back at you. he points at you, beckoning you over to him. âcâmere, pretty girl.â
your feet move before your brain can process his words, and youâre standing in front of him, the two of you looming over suguru, whoâs slouching against the wall. satoru side glances you, tongue sliding over his lower lip, before he puts something in your hand â a cold piece of metal.
âwhat?â you and suguru both choke out at the same time, âi said cut his hands off.â satoru leans down, mouth closer to your ear, and his hands hovering over yours. âhe should suffer the consequence of touching whatâs not his, correct?â suguru looks up at the two of you, eyes widening, and eyebrows raised.
âi asked you a question, y/n.â you freeze, fingers trembling as they wrap around the sharp object. looking up at satoru, youâre just met with sick amusement. âshould i repeat myself?â he asks, and you shake your head.
âor should your feet be cut off, since you canât seem to stay in one place?â satoru taps his chin in faux thought, humming to himself. âmaybe i should punish both of you? maybe you both should lose limbs?â
âoh, whatâs that, y/n?â satoru brings a hand to cup his ear, âyou donât want to lose your ability to run again? well then, cut his fucking hands off.â he folds his arms across his chest, eyes filled with amusement while he witnesses your emotional turmoil.
you look down, unable to meet suguruâs gaze, unable to look at satoru either. âthis is all your fault, shouldâve never touched something that didnât belong to you.â the male says, before digging into his pocket for something. âoh, and this? the stone you so intelligently planned to overtake my kingdom with, well now, itâs mine. your kingdom is mine too, considering iâve rid the toxic waste that resided there.â
âyouâre the last one,â satoru muses, stepping closer to suguru. âeven killed that bodyguard of yours, and he was a handful.â
he snatches the metal out of your hand, and crouches down beside suguru. âthis whole fuckinâ process has been taking too long, so as per usual, iâll do it myself.â
âis there anything youâd like to say?â
âi donât regret fucking your pretty little peasant into my bed, if thatâs what you want. you wonât be getting an apology from me, you pig.â suguru spits out, glaring at the male.
blood splatters on your face, staining your chest and the rest of your body. âthatâs not the proper way to speak to the king.â satoru murmurs to himself, stretching his long legs. the funny part was, satoru hadnât even cut off suguruâs hands, he demolished the entire getou clan, and the gojo clan on his own.
he turns to look at you, blood staining his pretty face. his eyes are wide, and his expression is feral, but nonetheless, you stand there, trying to ignore the increasing heat between your thighs.
satoru walks toward you, pressing the cold metal into your neck. he drags it down slowly, icy blue eyes meeting yours. âyou let suguru fuck you?â you part your lips, breath hitching as the blade drags further down. âyeah, i did. youâ you donât own me anymore, satoru.â but even those words came out nervously.
âthe hell i donât,â he spits out, eyes piercing through your soul. âyou run away once and now youâve got a fuckinâ mouth on you, huh?â his fingers dig into your cheeks, and he forces your gaze onto him. satoru laughs, but itâs humorless, his eyes glassy as he stares at you, itâs a taunting stare. one of dominance, one that seeks fear from you.
âlet me guess, suguru sweet talked you, told you heâd make you feel free, so you picked up and ran to him.â satoru taunts, tongue tapping against his front teeth. ânot only are you an idiot for believing him, youâre an idiot for thinking you could run away from me. from this palace, from your role.â
âmy stupid little pet, huh? that has a ring to it, but i thought you were smart.â satoru turns his back to you, âgo upstairs before i change my mind, and kill you too.â
your words get stuck in your throat, and your feet are planted in the ground. you want to speak, want to scream, but you canât. youâre afraid of him, and youâre afraid of dying at his hand. you obey him wordlessly, bare feet padding up the staircase lightly. satoru should kill you, you betrayed him, ran away, and ultimately embarrassed him. you were confused as to why he hasnât bothered killing you yet.
you look around the empty palace, the cold floor sending an unconscious shiver down your spine. your eyes are dim, and your head hangs low.
should you run or accept your fate?
the palace was a tomb. a gilded, echoing tomb where every footstep of yours sounded like a profanity. the blood on your robe had dried to a stiff, dark brown. you could still smell itâcopper and salt and the ugly sweetness of a life ending. suguruâs final, defiant spit still seemed to hang in the air.
you didnât run. the thought was there, a frantic bird in your chest. run. now. before he remembers you exist. but your feet carried you upward, step by terrible step, back into the sun-drenched, silent horror of the galleries. the emptiness was the worst part. no servants scurrying. no maids whispering. just you, the ghost of blood on your skin, and the echoing memory of satoruâs laugh.
you stopped in the grand hall. the tapestry depicting the gojo lineage was still there, but one corner was scorched, a blackened hole where the face of his grandfather had been. you stared at it. this was your home now. a museum of murder.
you froze. the sound had come from the direction of his chamber. your chamber. you turned slowly, your heart a trapped, frantic thing.
the door to his room was ajar. a sliver of that familiar, warm lamplight spilled into the hall. he was waiting. not in a chair. not pacing. just⌠waiting. you could see the edge of the bed, the rumpled silk sheets. the single pearl earring was still on the pillow, a stark, white beacon in the crimson dawn of his reign.
you walked toward it. each step felt like you were wading through tar. you reached the threshold. and there he was.
satoru sat on the edge of the bed, perfectly still. he had changed. the blood was gone, washed from his hair and skin, replaced by the pristine white of his under-tunic. but his eyes⌠his eyes were still feral. still glowing with the aftermath of the storm. he held a polished silver platter in his lap. on it sat a single, perfect strawberry, glistening with dew, and a neat pile of sugar.
he looked up at you. the silence was a physical entity, thicker than the dungeonâs mildew.
âyouâre filthy,â he said, his voice calm. scarily calm. âbut iâm not hungry.â
he gestured to the floor at his feet. âkneel.â
it wasnât a request. it was the settling of a verdict. you moved without thinking. your joints creaked as you sank down, the cold marble biting through your thin robe. you kept your eyes lowered, fixed on the toe of his boot.
he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, the platter held between you. his scentâozone and cold stoneâwashed over you, erasing the lingering reek of mildew and fear.
he picked up the strawberry. held it over the sugar. âthis is what you are to me now. a sweet thing. a decoration. a secret i keep in my pocket.â he shook it gently, sprinkling it with sugar. âa reminder that sweetness needs a preservative. or it rots.â
he brought the berry to his own mouth, took a slow, deliberate bite. the juice was bright red. he chewed, his eyes never leaving yours.
âi killed them all for you,â he whispered, the words dropping into the silence like stones. âmy parents. their guards. the council. suguruâs parents. their knights. i erased every single voice that would have said no to you. every single throat that would have called you âservantâ or âpeasantâ or âpetâ with disdain.â he swallowed. âi made the world smaller. so there was only room for us.â
he set the half-eaten berry back on the platter. reached out. his fingers, stained with other peopleâs blood just hours ago, were clean now. they were warm against your cold cheek as he tilted your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze.
âand you ran to him.â the disappointment was a physical pain in his voice. âyou ran to the man who wanted to use you as a tool to hurt me. to weaken me. did you think his peace would be softer than my love? that his bed would be less of a cage?â
your throat was sand. you couldnât speak.
âanswer me.â his thumb brushed your lower lip, a fey, terrifying caress. âdid it feel free? being a bargaining chip? a prize in his game?â
âi⌠i didnât know about the stone,â you forced out. ânot untilâŚâ
âuntil he showed you?â his smile was a slash of white. his hand slid from your face to the back of your neck, not hurting, but possessing.
he stood up, the platter clattering as he set it aside. he loomed over you, his shadow swallowing you whole.
âthe kingdom is empty. itâs just you and me. no one to whisper. no one to judge. no one to take you away.â he knelt in front of you, his face level with yours. the madness was gone, replaced by a terrifying, serene clarity. âyou think i havenât seen it? the way you looked at him? the way you listened to him? you wanted his âfresh air,â his easy kindness.â
his other hand came up, cupping your jaw, his palms framing your face. âbut kindness is a currency, princess. and his is counterfeit. It buys compliance. mineâŚâ he leaned in, his breath warm on your lips. âmine buys everything. your safety. your worth. your throne. your very breath, if i choose to give it or take it away.â
âi am your king now. not by some councilâs vote. by right of conquest. by right of the blood iâve spilled to keep you.â his forehead touched yours. âand you will be my queen. not as some political alliance. because you are mine. by the blood in your veins and the soul in your chest and the way you clench around my cock when you think i donât notice.â
a tear finally escaped, tracing a clean path down your dirty cheek. it wasnât for suguru. it wasnât for the dead. it was for the horrifying, undeniable truth in his words. he wasnât punishing you. he was claiming you. more fully than ever before. the game was over. the board was swept clean. and the only piece left on it was you.
âso you have a choice,â he murmured, his thumb catching your tear. âa real one. not like the fairy tales. you can run. right now. out that door. down these empty halls. out into a kingdom that has no master but me, and a million eyes that would drag you back to me for a reward. youâd get, maybe, an hour of freedom before the hounds found you.â
he leaned back, his gaze stripping you bare. âor you can stay. you can wear the crown iâm going to force onto your pretty head. you can sleep in a bed soaked in the blood of anyone who ever doubted you were worth it. you can be my queen in every way that matters. my pet. my secret. my equal in every twisted, beautiful, horrible way that counts.â
he stood up, extending a hand. not to strike. to help you up.
âthe throne room is being prepared,â he said, his voice back to its normal, arrogant timbre, laced with something raw and hungry. âthe crown is being reset. itâs waiting for its queen.â
his hand hung in the space between you. the offer. the sentence. the only thing he would ever give you that resembled a choice.
you stared at his hand. the hand that had held a blade. the hand that had held your face. the hand that would one day hold your child. the heat between your thighs wasnât just fear. it was a traitorous, sickening recognition. this was it. this violent, possessive, all-consuming dark was the only place youâd ever belonged.
your hand, trembling, rose to meet his.
he didnât grin. he just closed his fingers around yours, hard enough to bruise, and pulled you to your feet.
âgood girl,â he breathed, the praise a brand on your soul. âwe have a kingdom to rule.â
and for the first time, you believed him. not because you wanted to. but because you knew, with chilling certainty, that there was nowhere else left to go.
