hey it’s ok if you lost your ai virginity back when you were uneducated. a lot of posts go like “reblog if you have never ever used generative ai and never ever will!!!” but it’s ok if you have used gen ai before and it’s even ok if you used to think it was cool, back before you understood what it really was and how it worked, either because no one had taught you about it and you discovered it on your own or because the only education you had received about it was from the tech bros. you’re not a burger with a bite out of it for having used ai. ok
thank you ao3 for being an archive and not an algorithm. thank you for letting me like things without consequences, thank you for being free with no ads, thank you for having lawyers to defend our freedom of speech. thank you tag wranglers. thank you to all authors and thank you ao3
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students, with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else. [ Fratboy!Sukuna FWB Series ]
[ TAGS ] — MDNI. 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. fwb. angst. hurt/comfort. slow burn. fluff. spit. ráw. rough. heavy spanking. degradation. dacryphilia. slight exhibitionisim. pda. soft sukuna. choso + yuuji r his younger brothers. every position. heavy creampies. violence. depression/anxiety. anger issues. squirting. cockwarming. alcohol. family trauma. tags will be updated as series continues.
✮ ch 1 || how it all started ✮ ch 2 || miss me already?
✮ ch 3 || call me ✮ ch 4 || two worlds
✮ ch 5 || coming soon ✮ ch 6 || tbd
✮ ch 7 || tbd ✮ ch 8 || tbd
✮ ch 9 || tbd ✮ ch 10 || tbd
✮ ch 11 || tbd ✮ ch 12 || tbd
✮ pt 1 — sukuna is starting to toe the line
✮ pt 2 — you’re desperate to prove this is just sex
✮ pt 3 — cockwarming him for the first time
✮ pt 4 — sukuna’s brothers visit unexpectedly
✮ pt 5 — pregnancy scare with sukuna
✮ pt 6 — sukuna has a stash of naked polaroids of you
✮ pt 7 — halloween special. scare actor!sukuna
✮ pt 8 — sukuna’s noticeable bulge at the gym
✮ pt 9 — high stakes no nut november edition
✮ pt 10 — holiday special (coming soon)
✮ visuals ✮ bts lore ✮ music tag ♪ ✮ tiktok tag ✮
✮ pinterest board ✮ ask tag ✮ main masterlist ✮ ao3 ✮
[INFO] — parts vs chapters: chapters is the actual series and is connected. parts exist in the same universe but is separate all dabbles that are not connected to each other or the chapters . [ they can be read separately. ]
there is NO SERIES TAGLIST ✮ age should be visible on your blog — (art by @/to00fu, dividers by @/lariesographic )
i get so emotional over non-human characters who are experiencing 'being human' and fundamentally are lonely and just want friends that all they'd ever want is friendship and company and that is the most important part of being human for them is to have friends..... god. GOD,, give me a moment here im. IM.
you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...
genre/warnings:
18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, kinda slowburn, angst to eventual fluff, divorce, marriage of convenience, heavy pining (from gojo's part), childhood friends trope, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, infertility, explicit smut
note:
loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress (but i promise you, it's different). my god, for the past month this is all i can think about *sobs* wc. 10.5k ! this is the longest thing i've ever posted here, and if you'd give it a chance, then i'll be really, really thankful!
credit header goes to @/gojokko in twitter!
image: emperor gojo | emperor naoya
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist | empress masterlist
“I accept the divorce.”
Your perfect life was done for. Everything you had worked hard towards— it was now in shambles and tatters.
You, an ethereal, revered empress... someone untarnished in the face of public and private, had just agreed to the emperor’s blatant request of separation.
“My god... how can this be!?”
“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”
Emperor Zen’in Naoya of the Eastern Empire, your husband—and companion for more than ten years—smirked as he looked down at you, paying zero attention to the uproar in this courthouse.
But then you heard that kind, velvety voice from the back of your head:
“If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”
This place has turned into a whopping circus ever since you and Naoya stepped inside anyway. And so, having nothing worthy left to lose, you declared, “And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage.”
Your boldness once again stirred a wave of clamor among the crowd, and even Naoya was glaring at you in disbelief now. “A remarriage…? How dare you—!”
“Well... is it the time for my grand entrance?”
Deep from behind the curtains, suddenly he emerged, dressed in the most lavish robes befitting his own throne, outshining everyone in the room as if he was the one owning the place.
“Heh.” His low chuckle stunned even the mass as he took big strides towards where you were.
This would seal your fate. From now onwards, you would no longer be the perfect empress. Your messy divorce and remarriage will relegate that image to history.
“My goodness, that’s…” the woman in the front gasped. “Western Empire’s…”
“Gojo… Satoru?” Naoya's eyes lit with genuine fury as the other man took his place by your side. “You couldn't possibly mean…!”
You interrupted him regally. “Yes, he is the man I wish to remarry.”
This event was going to blow up tomorrow, with scandalous titles no less than The Deposed Empress Remarries! And there was no going back, ever.
How did your pristine life turn into such a shameful debacle? None of these turn of events would be imaginable for you several years prior...
SATORU, THE CROWN PRINCE OF WESTERN EMPIRE
To Satoru, you were more than just the east’s breathtaking empress—you had captured his attention long before you ascended to that role.
Seven years ago, you were the renowned noble lady, the paragon of perfection sought after by many lords and monarchs alike.
You were both cunning and fair, pretty in the face, came from an illustrious family known for birthing famous empresses in either western and eastern empires. You were the quintessential template that mothers advised their sons to seek in a wife.
The fairest in the land—that was how people called you. And Gojo Satoru is always and only interested in the best.
“Suguru... look at her.” His eyes would soften at the sight of you as he nudged at his closest ally and confidant, the duke. “She is so... pretty, isn’t she?”
Unfortunately, you had been promised to the Eastern Empire’s crown prince from a long time ago too. There was little that the outsiders, including himself—even if he was the heir apparent to his own throne—could do to sway your heart.
“There's more to women than their faces, Satoru,” Suguru sighed, thinking that what he had was a mere lust. “Moreover, she’s engaged to the Zen’in... and they have a very good relationship. Nothing you can do about that.”
“Hmph.”
To be honest, he couldn’t fathom what you could possibly like about that murderous Zen’in spawn. He was a pompous human being, no less.
How on earth could you stand someone like that? Satoru had always wondered… especially when it was well-known to the land that you and him were on good terms despite your arranged marriage.
—and once, he thought he knew who you are…
. . .
Satoru swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat as he attended the royal wedding of you and Zen’in Naoya. Despite hating the circumstances, he had to admit it was a fairytale wedding—albeit with the wrong groom.
You were the epitome of picture book princess. In his eyes, and in the eyes of the attendees of your wedding.
Oh, and he made headlines too, that day—
“My princess, may I have this dance?”
Two hours hadn’t even passed by after you swore your vows as Naoya’s bride, and there he was, asking for your first dance, in your own wedding ball, right in front of your newly wedded husband.
Everyone bet on you turning him down and making a fool of himself, but instead, to spare his feelings, you put your delicate hand in his, and with a wide, shy smile, you said, “Yes.”
Satoru thought it was his greatest achievement then. To have made Naoya red-faced, to have made him watch as he put his hands on your waist, twirl you around— and come one breath away from your face.
“Princess, you’re…” his breath caught as he pulled you close, staring straight at your face—and suddenly he felt like life was so unfair to him as the slow melody of waltz was all he could hear.
How could you be this close... and yet so far by being somebody else’s wife?
And yet he forced the words out, with sincerity he had never showed anyone else before, even as his heart bled and shattered. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”
Your eyes widened, sparkling with wonder, before you thanked him with the loveliest of smiles. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”
Satoru was certain... you had ruined him, because no one else would ever be able to turn his world with just a smile like you did, even as you broke his heart too into a million pieces.
. . .
Ever since that day, everyone had branded him as a prince in search of scandal—coveting the princess married to Zen’in clan.
What everyone didn’t know was that it went beyond that. His obsession of you went beyond your beauty and charms and wits. Rather, it goes a long way back.
YOU, THE CROWN PRINCESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE
As inconceivable as it was, once upon a time, you and Naoya were a truly, happy couple.
Handpicked by the late emperor to become his son’s wife, you couldn’t be more proud. With you being the next empress of the Eastern Empire, your clan once again proved itself that it was always worthy of a seat in the monarchy.
But beyond that, you were elated that it was Naoya that you ended up marrying. Your own childhood friend, who often led you around his palace by hand and filled your days with many joy and laughs.
“One day soon, when we are the emperor and the empress—” younger Naoya was always someone who had big dreams about ruling his nation. “We will create a nation in which no one can do anything as they please! We’ll establish order, and anyone who goes against it will be punished! That way, it’ll encourage fairness!”
Not knowing it yourself, you had given your heart wholly to him. You had agreed to all his dreams and visions. You devoted yourself to them all, even more so after your marriage and coronation, as he promised you an ever after.
“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”
YOU, THE EMPRESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE
“Your role is to give an heir to the throne, Empress.”
Your title had never sounded so heavy to you before now, especially when Naoya was the one saying it.
You sighed, gathering your wits and scattered feelings before levelling your calm gaze on your husband. “I understand that, Your Majesty. But it is not something that I can do on my own.”
This year would mark the fifth year of your marriage to Naoya. You understood that the fact you still weren’t able to be with his child would raise questions from the court, but still, must you be reminded of this fact over and over?
Your husband—no, the emperor—barked a satire laugh.
“Oh, really? As I understand it, being infertile is not something I can help you with.”
That hurt. It was a searing pain, like being branded with a red-hot iron. And it felt as if he had torn through your chest with his fist alone.
“I’m not infertile.” Your eyes gleamed with pure defiance as you lifted your chin, facing him in his audience chamber.
It dawned on you that lately, one of the few ways you could speak to him was by requesting an audience as opposed to your usual midnight talks in your private chambers.
When did it start to change? Or was Naoya this kind of person right from the very beginning and you were just blinded by love back then?
"Oh? And what would you call being childless for five years then?" Naoya sneered at you from his dais, placing one hand on his jaw. "Bad luck? You must be terribly cursed with misfortune then."
You fisted your dress, summoning all your strength to hold back tears. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of him.
It wasn't as if you didn't want to carry his heir. For many women, holding their baby in their arms is a cherished dream, and when they hold a position of power like yours, it becomes not just a desire but a duty.
You tried everything—calling in the best doctors, consuming horrible potions, even consulting with the oracle. And they all said you were perfectly healthy and fine. You were at your wits end too.
The irony. You were celebrated in public for your competence, while privately, you suffered your husband's cold detachment and cruel remarks.
. . .
"Empress, where should we put the welcome gifts?"
You studied the floor plan of the banquet hall for your annual New Year's ball with a thoughtful hum before pointing at the entrance.
"Place it here. We want our guests to know that we are generous, and it's easily accessible since the parlor is the first area they reach after arriving."
You loved planning festivities. It was therapeutic in a way, and it gave you little time to think of anything else.
"Oh, and I want to have a welcome arch and flowers placed at the entrance too. This is the grandest event of the year, second only to the Emperor's birthday... we must display the grandeur that befits such an occasion."
Your head maidservant, Hanabi, placed a hand on her abdomen and nodded with a warm smile. "That's a very clever suggestion, Your Majesty! I'll ensure they arrange everything just as you wish!"
As she scurried away, you watched her with an assessing gaze. Hanabi had been with you throughout the five years of your marriage, always at your side, assisting with day-to-day matters and serving as your confidant. She was a great aide.
And you were observant by nature... so of course you noticed things.
...and if you were correct, then she was most definitely with a child.
The thing is... she is unmarried. You hesitated to jump to conclusions without evidence, yet the timing struck you as more than coincidental—it nagged at you for weeks now, suggesting a connection you hoped did not exist.
Because if they really did... then...
You didn't dare to think, because it would be more than a nightmare. But you weren't able to let this go either, so you did what was necessary.
You planted a note in Hanabi's chamber, and then you waited in the gardens, the chilly midnight air wrapping around you like a shroud.
You had done everything you could. Five years ago, you let go of everything and had decided to spend your life with your first love—Naoya.
Because you truly and devotedly love him. You give your all for him—for your life together.
"Ooh, Your Majesty~! It's so cold out here, why not in our usual—"
Hanabi's voice faltered as soon as she saw your crimson gown, feeling like the world had collapsed on her. And you rigidly turned towards her, feeling more or less the same.
And yet, what you had received from him is the greatest betrayal.
SATORU, THE EMPEROR OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE
He first realized something was clearly wrong with you during the New Year’s ball that you hosted.
Satoru had just been crowned emperor during this time, and though rulers typically sent envoys to such grand celebrations due to concurrent festivities in their own lands, it had been several months since he last saw you. He wants to see you.
A meritless action, but he wanted to, regardless.
But that day, you were a fantastic actress in this stage called banquet hall and nobody was the wiser… but he would know, because you mattered a lot to him.
"Your Majesty, you don't seem well." He approached you with a glass of champagne, affixing a friendly smile. "Is there anything amiss?"
Taken aback, you didn't expect such close proximity that you took a step back. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up.
"Emperor Satoru—"
"Ah, none of that, no. Address me just as you usually do, hmm?"
A smile finally tugged at your lips. "How is that fair, when you address me so formally?"
Satoru chuckled. "You, my queen, deserve all the finery and grandeur there is. And I will see to it that you do."
That was his nickname for you ever since you ascended the throne. Both of your countries refer you as “empress”, but he loves addressing you as “queen” instead.
There was a shift in your expression, and he thought you looked melancholic. It bothered him, stirring a desire to erase that somber look from you. Because above anything and everything, you had to be happy and smiling.
"You're still a flirt, I see, Satoru," you remarked, throwing him a soft smile. "It won't do you good if you're seen with me most of the time, you know."
No, I’m doing this just for you. He wanted to tell you that, but he sighed instead. "You've got it wrong. When I'm in the company of the most beautiful woman in the lands, what's there to be ashamed of?"
Perhaps hearing that finally melted you a bit as you freely giggled this time, and Satoru was glad that he made you laugh even a little.
"You would think that, huh..." you fondly mumbled. And then your expression crumbled, and he could've sworn something painful flashed in your eyes—
What happened to you? He so desperately wanted to ask, but then he saw that preying gaze on both of you. Zen’in Naoya. Satoru clicked his tongue as he watched him weave through the crowd, his gaze locked ominously on both of you.
“Seems like we don’t have much time, after all,” he began, urgency sharpening his words. “But rest assured, whenever you want to talk to me, just send a little birdie my way and I shall answer.”
“Huh?” you blinked at him questioningly, totally not getting what he meant.
He winked, then took your hand and placed a kiss on it, eliciting murmurs of surprise from the crowd at his bold gesture. “And chin up, my queen. You have nothing to fear, and if it makes you feel better...”
He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “To me, a diamond is most beautiful. And you… are one that sparkles above all.”
“Naoya, unhand me this instant!”
You were tired of this shit, of Naoya always manhandling you—of him always having a total control over you.
After seeing how close you got to Satoru, Naoya practically saw red. Still, in the prying eyes of public, he remained unperturbed, but his vice-like grip on your arm was sure to leave bruise as he unkindly led you out of the ballroom.
"Naoya!" you raised your voice this time, even louder than before, uncaring even when the wandering eyes of the servants curiously followed the two of you.
You were not made an empress just to follow him. And with that conviction, you forcibly pulled your arm away from his grip right after he shut the door to the drawing room close, not even wincing at the stinging feeling.
His eyes shone with anger. “You insolent—!”
“No—” You stood your ground, and suddenly you got very irate and burst out, “How dare you, Zen’in Naoya!”
He looked at you with equal surprise and mortification, clearly unprepared for your righteous tirade.
"You have made a mockery of our marriage! You have insulted me and your own throne by carrying on with— with the help! My maid!" you screamed at his face, pure anger coursing through your veins. "How could you!?"
Naoya took in your outburst with eerie silence, a sneer slowly forming on his lips. "You get riled up over that? Have you forgotten emperors are free to take mistresses, especially when the empress isn't capable to bear any heirs?"
A burning arrow shot straight to your heart at his response but you willed yourself not to show it. "Regardless, you could've done better and not put our throne to shame by fucking a servant."
"I've told you time and time again. A woman's duty is to bear children, and since you've proven yourself beyond barren, I did you a favor."
"A favor...?"
"As soon as Hanabi births that child, you can raise him as your own," Naoya frankly stated unabashedly, as if proud with his idea. "Saves you the trouble and I get my heir, a win-win solution, no?"
Raise him as my own...? Saves the trouble? You could've sworn that throughout your entire life, you had never been so insulted before now, right in this moment.
"What I do, I always have my throne in mind. And yet you..." his eyes narrowed into unsatisfied slits. "What are you trying to achieve by whoring yourself to that rake, Gojo Satoru? Are you telling people of the ton that you're having an affair?"
His voice made you want to throw up. The realization that everything you thought you had together might have meant nothing to him at all made you feel sick.
And so, hiding your trembling hands and swallowing you unshed tears, you responded to him with a clipped tone—
"You're most despicable, Naoya. And you are a complete fool if you think even for a second that I'd want to raise your bastard!"
He seemed taken aback by your rejection, but you didn't falter. "And oh, since you want to make use of that lowly maid so much, feel free to take her back and track her down yourself, because I've sent that wench away."
With that, you turned your back on him, striding out with your head held high, even as your life crumbled into dust.
Days after your full-blown argument with Naoya, your situation only worsened. By now, even the palace servants knew you had incurred his wrath, while Hanabi had won his favor by carrying his child—possibly the heir to the throne.
The child she was carrying was no threat to your position. After all, you were the empress. A child of your blood would trample over any bastard.
However, you'd be damned if you shared a bed with him again, and Naoya made it clear that his mistress would be elevated to the rank of royal consort. Given the current trajectory—and history's tendency to repeat itself—emperors often divorced or banished their empresses in favor of their mistresses.
Bah. You could only scoff at your laughable predicament. You came from a prestigious clan and were revered, yet now you were no more than a scorned woman.
Dark thoughts consumed your mind for a time—you couldn't deny that you had considered leaving the palace for self-imposed exile or even ending your life. However, reason always prevailed.
You wouldn't give Naoya what he wanted most: your compliance. And around the time when you resolved to do that, a finely decorated envelope arrived at your study, with no signature whatsoever.
Intrigued, you opened it to find an intricate dried rose bookmark and a folded letter nestled inside.
Greetings to you, my queen. Yeah, it's me. Hope you won't be too surprised. But if you do, know that I always mean well.
Satoru. You weren't expecting this. A small smile tugged at your lips. How long had it been since you last smiled so freely?
I've heard you love reading, hence the bookmark. Fun fact: I made it myself, with Shoko's help. She is sooo bad at explaining though so if the flower is wrinkled... please blame her.
This time, you giggled. He was an emperor, for god's sake. Should someone of his station write so informally like this?
Now... I'm no oracle, but even I know that you must be having bad days. And so, let me entertain you with several tales from my kingdom. So, the other day, my good friend Suguru, the duke—you must've heard of him surely (they said he is the most handsome bachelor in the West but they must be missing an eye for saying so because clearly I'm more!)—just fired a pair of his servants because he caught them in a thirst! He is so uptight! Why can't he let two people in love be!?
Before you knew it, you found yourself chuckling at the lines upon lines of anecdotes Satoru had penned in the letter. The way he wrote, it was as if he was right here, saying all of this to you in real-time. For a while, you were completely absorbed in the world of the Western Empire he described, and all your worries and anxieties seemed to fade away.
Okay, that's it for now. This is just a teaser actually, so if you want to subscribe to more tales of my humble little country, you can always be my empress reply to this letter! :D Look out for a white cat near your windowsill during the hour of snake—he is my trained pet, and put your message in his little backpack. Don't worry, he's cute and doesn't bite!
You were so giddy by the end. His message warmed your heart so much that your eyes grew misty. In the aftermath of Naoya's betrayal, you were certain your life would be filled with much sadness to come.
Yet, your friendship with Satoru might just be the thing that would save you.
No matter how much his friends Duke Geto and Countess Shoko urged him to see reason—that you were no longer available and occupied with your duties as the empress of your own empire—Satoru couldn't help but still cast an eye your way.
You were clearly unhappy, and to him, someone as radiant as you should be happy.
And so, that was why he took his quill and started writing that letter to be sent to your place, along with a rose strapped inside.
He knew that, being the kind person you were, you would most likely respond, but still, the moment his cat arrived back with your reply, he was elated beyond measure.
Of course I knew it right away! I omitted your name because who knows who might catch your cat on the way. Anyway, I hope Mr. Cat will arrive back to you safe and sound.
Firstly, thank you for your letter. I must say I'm so happy to receive it :) I haven't had best days so reading it made me smile. And secondly, of course I'll subscribe to your stories of Western Empire. I've been wanting to visit it myself but just haven't gotten the chance to... so if you will continue it, I shall be happy to read :D
If anything he wrote brought you joy, then Satoru was content. He had achieved his goal then.
And it was his own little secret that... by corresponding with you, it allowed him to savor the feeling of having you as his own, if only through words.
Mr. Cat's name is Sugu-chan after Suguru but you can call him whatever you wish. And don't worry, he is strong and can fight if necessary! And don't be too formal with me, my queen. We have known each other forever. Anyway do tell me, what is your favorite color now? Let me guess, is it still that specific shade of crimson?
You name your cat after your best friend...? And you're making it hard for me to be less formal when you always address me as queen! Hmm, I suppose so. I love burgundy. I've even had my study designed with that exact color scheme. It just gives me the confidence I need, you know.
So you still love burgundy... I'll keep that in mind ;) Frankly, any shade of crimson suits you—you're always a vision in them. Back then and especially during your coronation. I love blue, so I think we're a match? :D
Back then...? Hmm, surprisingly yes, red and blue would make a good match... Anyway, I believe you promised me unusual tales from your 'humble little country', so please indulge me!
You've forgotten it already? Around the time we first met, back when I was still known as "the cursed prince"? It holds such importance for me but sadly it seems like it was just a passing moment to you :(
Oh, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it! So, this time let me tell you about the time when Earl Nanami got wasted . . .
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Amidst the turmoil of your marriage, exchanging letters with Satoru became your sole respite. His stories regarding his own empire amused you, and sometimes it got you to wonder what it was like to live there.
However, running away from your problems would never solve them. Writing to Satoru may have helped you to cope, but still, your real issue with Naoya wouldn't vanish simply just by ignoring him.
. . .
"Your Majesty..."
For a good one minute, you stood still. Your lady-in-waiting had delivered an earth-shattering news—but admittedly, a possibility you thought was in the cards the moment you went against Naoya.
"His majesty has summoned the high priest to his study," the elderly woman added, close to tears. "But it is very likely that he has submitted the petition for—" her voice faltered when she caught sight of the emptiness in your eyes, unable to continue.
A divorce. Naoya had been considering a divorce. And by now, he was set on it.
"I'm so, so sorry..." she choked out, her voice breaking with sorrow to mourn you, but you remained expressionless, lost in your thoughts.
The last time an empress of Eastern Empire was divorced was more or less a century ago, because she had committed a grave treachery against a royal consort by poisoning her. She was sentenced to death by hanging afterwards.
The irony. You were in similar situation, only that you weren't vengeful enough to resort to poisoning Hanabi. Speaking of her, her baby was due in another four months, and now she was living happily in Naoya's quarters.
"Don't be. I'm perfectly fine."
To consolidate his illegitimate child's position, Naoya used the most effective way. Since you wouldn't listen to him, and Hanabi must be a far delightful companion rather than you, he was more than willing to cast you aside in favor of making her his empress instead.
You thought it would hurt more, and yet what you felt the most right in this moment was white-hot anger. This is unacceptable. It was the greatest insult to you both as a woman and as the empress.
Now, all you could think of was how to uphold your dignity and plot your exit from this palace with your head still held high.
If I can't be the empress here...
And after a sleepless night, you came to a daring solution. And your plan—
...I'll be one somewhere else.
It was an invitation, Satoru thought, almost in disbelief. Or it sounded a lot like one, didn't it?
Heart beating a little faster and blushing, he reread the latest letter you had sent him.
It's only the beginning of summer, and the heat is sweltering... I'm considering treating myself to a trip to the winery village on the border between the east and west. I think it'll be nice if I have a companion...
Winery village was right in the middle of the western and eastern empires, and it was a safe zone. Vineyards were vast and thick, but it wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot. So, it intrigued him why you would want to go there.
Just as he was about to reply to you that it was a very good coincidence that he too wanted to pay a visit to the said village, suddenly—
"Gojo! Gojoooo!" Shoko suddenly burst into his study, startling him.
"Shoko! What the heck?!"
Lady Shoko might be a countess, but she, Satoru, and Suguru all attended the same royal academy. Despite their prestigious titles now, Satoru insisted that in private, both Suguru and Shoko address him just as they did before he ascended the throne.
Still, she was ruder than Suguru in many ways. Satoru gave her a stink eye, but his confusion grew as she seemed to be delivering momentous news.
"Gojo, have you heard that Naoya will divorce Y/N?!"
"Wha?" it felt like a ton of bricks suddenly fell down on his head. And then his friend proceeded to tell him everything she knew.
"It wasn't made official yet, but even the townsfolk have been talking about it. They also said that Naoya have taken a mistress, and that she was formerly the empress' maid."
Satoru listened to her in silence, but the moment he heard that the Zen'in spawn planned to divorce you, anger flared within him. And to add insult to injury, he two-timed you with a servant?
The fucking bastard. He never deserved you at all. How crushed must you have been, enduring all this shit?
"Now, I wouldn't normally encourage you this," Shoko took out the cigarette she stashed in the folds of her dress and sighed. "But since you never let go of that weird fixation on her, should the royal divorce happen..." she shrugged as she took a seat in front of him.
"No matter how laughable it is, you might have a chance."
She is so right. These long years of longing for your affections and dreaming of having even a minute more of your time... there was now chance to turn it to reality.
When you arrived at the winery village for your vacation to breathe in some fresh air, honestly, everything was still in shambles.
You couldn't forget the horrified looks from the court when Naoya announced the divorce. Most were shocked and pleaded with him to reconsider. Some from your circle of ladies even sobbed, openly stating that you didn't deserve this fate.
“Empress... His Majesty shouldn't be that harsh...” Hanabi had said to you afterwards, seemingly concerned for you. “Your legacy here… I’ll make sure to carry them on.”
Sometimes you didn’t know whether Hanabi was pretending to be dumb or indeed she was. One thing you knew though...
“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi.” You looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice. “Beware, the Emperor is fickle, be sure to not run out of entertainments.”
You knew you deserved a better fate than being the empress of the Eastern Empire, but seeing those who still cared for you made you solemn. Your loyal maids, those who supported you... and what about organizations you've spent time and energy to?
“My queen, ah, there you are.”
Satoru's voice from behind startled you, interrupting your daydreams. He quickly came beside you and extended his hand, asking for yours.
You offered him your right hand, and he promptly pressed a kiss on it, his bright blue eyes gazing up at you.
It wasn't as if you just noticed how pretty his eyes were, but now that there was no ballroom and scrutinizing eyes around you, you couldn't deny that the way his eyes sparkled as he gazed at you—solely and purely on you—made you breathless.
What... would it be like to have this man... to be your husband instead?
"I missed you. I know we talk daily through letters, but seeing your beauty firsthand is always a sight for sore eyes," he cheekily commented as he let go of your hand. "Now, I get to see you without your pesky husband around, and yeah, you never fail to make my silly heart race."
You chuckled. "You always flatter me..."
He only gave you a toothy smile, and you two strolled the vineyard. For a while, you talked about nothing of importance, like where your ladies-in-waiting were, how things were from his side.
"How do you find being the emperor?"
"It's tiring! It's boring too to look through accounts and oversee those trivial state affairs! And not to mention how many people have been nagging me to take a wife soon!"
"Oh? You haven't been on the lookout already?"
"Nah. No one is good enough, I need someone already familiar with state affairs and such," he said, wrinkling his nose sourly at the thought. But then he cast his eyes on you.
"And frankly, you are my standard," he fixed you a meaningful smile. "No one comes close. If you weren't betrothed to the Zen'in back then, I'd have proposed you in a heartbeat."
Thump. Thump. Thump. Your dead heart suddenly came to life. Gojo Satoru had just confessed his affections for you so candidly, and it got you thinking how much easier your life would be with him. He would love you, take care of you...
And beguile you.
His eyes fondly crinkled at you. "You are everything I desire in a woman to be my wife."
He adores you so easily, so fluidly... and yet, Naoya, who has you fully, is throwing you away.
Satoru observed how your face fell once again, just as it had during the New Year's ball. And now he knew, it was because you were facing your impending divorce.
But he wasn't going to tell you that, instead, he would willingly be your confidant and offer you his very being. He was about to crack a joke to lift your spirits, when you blurted—
"What if I said... I want to be your empress?" you kept your pace, not looking at him at all. "What if I said... I'll leave everything and come to you?"
Huh? What…?
That was loaded. Have you entertained the thought too? Satoru had craved the very idea for so long he didn’t even miss a beat—
“Then I’d marry you.” His voice was straight and true, shooting straight to the most tender part of you that Naoya had torn to shreds. “If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”
No hesitation. It almost reduced you to tears. You stopped where you stood, willing yourself not to tremble. There is still one person who sees this much value in you.
“Then I’ll be yours,” you breathed out. “I’ll be your empress, Satoru.”
Satoru could've sworn time had stopped. If one moment ago, you looked like you were about to shatter, now you were a vision of the dignified and perfect queen he had always known you were.
“I’ll be your queen— your everything.” You declared, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze not escaping him.
How many years had he dreamed of this moment? How many long nights had he endured, yearning for you, knowing you were beyond his reach?
Finally, finally... Satoru grinned, swearing to all the divine beings out there that he had never known how liberating it was to finally have what he wanted. “That would be my greatest honor.”
He drew you close—you let him—and after one second of taking in your enchanting eyes, he crashed his lips against yours.
His lips started soft and gentle, then became fiery as his tongue met yours. He pulled you closer, one arm around your waist and the other holding the back of your head. You responded eagerly, pressing against him, fingers tracing his neck and feeling the lines of his undercut.
One is finally having the woman he had wanted for so long, and the other was plotting her escape from her misery.
You were using him. He knew it. Yet, he didn't care. Hidden behind bushes and vines, you shared your very first heated kiss, aware that this moment would leave its mark as both the greatest stain and triumph in your lives.
And when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and wet, with a wolfish grin, he promised you once again—
“Give me everything that is yours... and I swear on my life, I will do everything to turn your life into a living dream.”
“Empress, your husband His Majesty the Emperor, has requested a divorce.”
It was how your once pristine life transformed into the scandal of the century inside the courthouse.
"If you accept this petition, then you will no longer be the Empress of Eastern Empire. You will lose all the rights you have as a senior member of the imperial family..."
You donned your finest attire—the intricate crimson and black dress you had designed and commissioned the dressmaker to create. Today, faced with Naoya's divorce decree, it would be the last time you adorned the colors of his empire.
"The ties that bound you together as husband and wife would be severed—"
Good riddance, you thought.
"If this is not what you want, you have the right to—"
"I accept the divorce."
Your voice cut through the heavy solemness of the witnesses and turned them into a mass of disbelief. You disregarded Naoya's smirk and held the priest's gaze. "And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage."
The crowd was in for a second wave of uproar when you boldly stood your ground, and they erupted into clamors once again when Satoru made his grand entrance and took his place beside you.
"You—!" Naoya was so furious that he roared. "This is my empire!"
"And?" Satoru challenged with a dauntless smile. "I'm here to propose, and since she accepts your divorce request, I believe she has no relations with you any longer and is free to marry someone else."
You remained motionless, until your cold fingers met warmth when Satoru linked his hand with yours reassuringly.
"This is treachery! I won't fucking permit it!" Naoya hollered as he faced the high priest, who had a grim face while observing this three-way headlock between the three of you.
"Emperor Naoya, that matter falls into the jurisdiction of the church." The high priest let out a sigh and then turned to you, assessing your calm gaze.
Regardless, Naoya paid him no mind. "I refuse to grant you any permission to remarry! You will be banished to the cold palace until the rest of your pitiful days! Not only do you fail miserably by being barren beyond help, you also dare to whore yourself—" he was now rambling curses at you before everyone in the court, and it pierced you deeply—
Until Satoru tugged you behind him, so that you wouldn't have to see his face any longer.
"High priest!" Satoru's voice blared as he clenched his jaw, irate at the string of profanities directed at you. "Do you still truly believe that the deposed empress can't remarry? When she has suffered through this man's downright betrayal?"
Your head was spinning. You wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.
And thankfully, even the high priest saw reason, that you were undeserving of this debacle. In the end, his words held more weight than anyone else's, even Naoya's.
"I accept Empress Y/N petition to marry Emperor Satoru!"
In the chaos of the courthouse after the high priest granted your wish, Naoya shook his head in disbelief, looking at both of you with intense disdain.
"You've always wanted that wench, haven't you, Gojo?" Naoya cackled with a malice you would never have expected from someone who had been your husband for ten years.
You had tuned out all the noise. This dumpster fire was too much even for you. But then, you felt a strong arm enveloping you, sealing your fate as the match made in this courtroom—
"I have, yeah," Satoru replied with a smug grin. "And now that she is mine... it's just the beginning of your downfall, Zen'in."
Your wedding banquet in Western Empire lasted a week long.
True to his promise, Satoru spared no effort to make you happy. The moment he brought you to his palace, he ordered immediate plans for wedding celebrations. Make it grand, make it unforgettable... he took charge himself.
And on the final, seventh day, as you were about to be formally crowned as the empress of the western lands, you were stunned.
"This is your coronation dress, Empress," your new lady-in-waiting, Shoko, said with pride. "Gojo— I mean, His Majesty, specifically has his late mother's dress altered to suit you."
You promised yourself that you would no longer wear any shades of crimson. As much as you loved the color, it reminded you too much of your homeland and Naoya. No matter how much you despised him now, once upon a time, he was everything you loved and more.
And you thought you couldn't possibly love another color until you saw the extravagant navy dress in your chamber. Made of luxurious satin and adorned with literal diamonds, it shimmered under the light and flowed gracefully with layers of brocade cascading to the floor.
To give you something so valuable... You had expected to enter into a marriage out of necessity, but your new husband had no intention of ceasing his ways to win your heart.
If it's with him, maybe... just maybe...
Today is the day.
Satoru sat on his throne before his court in the grand hall of his audience chamber. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed in his official attire, robe of silk and a crown made of pure gold.
Next to him, another resplendent crown adorned with jewels and diamonds shimmered in the light—the empress' crown. Your crown.
Today was the day this empire would truly acknowledge his queen. He stole a glance at you on his other side, and his breath was taken away.
With your hair tucked into an elegant updo, you were the very vision of a fairytale queen. You were incredibly stunning, almost otherworldly— shade of blue suited you as much as crimson did, just as he thought.
This day would go down in history. But before that, he would ensure that the news would reach Zen'in Naoya. He would spite him so hard.
"Today marks a momentous occasion. We gather here to celebrate not only my marriage and my new wife's coronation," Satoru glanced at his audience with a smirk, his expression widening as he spotted his best friends Suguru and Shoko. "But also the start of her reign... and as we know it already, her fame and beauty are second to none."
The crowd burst into giggles, clearly aware of his scandal at the Eastern Empire's courthouse. And even you smiled.
Satoru shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes. "Spare me, I'm a newlywed, after all. Anyway..." His gaze shifted to the intricate crown, a relic of his late mother's, and then back to you. "Come."
You knelt before your new husband, bowing your head. The whirlwind journey from the East, your remarriage to Satoru... It had all felt surreal until this moment. Now, the weight of reality settled upon you, almost shaking your very core—
But just as the thought crossed your mind, Satoru placed the crown upon your head. As the jewels settled into place and you rose to face the crowd, his voice cut through the air:
"And here I present to you, your new empress!"
The room erupted in applause, the cheers echoing around you. Everyone congratulated you without fail, and your breath was taken away.
It was a sight beyond belief, as they chanted your name, over and over again—
“ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!”
"I have something for you!"
You wouldn't expect that you would ditch your last night of wedding celebrations along with your husband, and yet here you were, led by the hand by a very giddy Satoru.
"Where are we going?" you questioned him, your pretty dress sweeping the halls in a rush.
He turned to you to send you a wink. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll love it."
Somehow the way he called you made your heart thump a little faster inside your ribcage. This man is really, truly, your husband now.
He was such a refreshing person, it almost made you let go of everything that molded you into the perfect empress in the east, and be just... you.
"Here." Both of you stopped in front of a grand door, and he ushered you inside. "Come, come~"
A study, you realized as you stepped inside, but then a gasp left your lips—
"How do you find it, hmm?" Satoru put an arm around your waist, proud of how the burgundy walls and mats enveloped the entire space, creating a tranquil sight that perfectly matched your taste.
It was so much like your private study in the Eastern Empire's palace. You might now hate that place, but your private study was filled with the memories of smiles while writing back to Satoru's letters and waiting for his cat to come. And to have this now in your new home...
"You remembered..." you looked up to him, almost tearing up.
"Of course I do," he pressed a kiss on your temple. "I said that so long as you're with me, I'll turn your dream into reality, didn't I?"
This man really treasures you, or at least that was what his actions had proven so far.
"You're everything I've ever wanted and more," Satoru said, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a warm embrace. "You might not realize it, but I've been in love with you since you first visited western lands."
"What?" you turned to him with genuine confusion. "How?"
"That blind boy who you led by the hand... he had no friends," Satoru sighed against you. "The first and only person who asked him if he was lost... is you."
Suddenly, you were thrown back in time to your first encounter with Satoru many years ago. He was known as "cursed" for being born with peculiar eyes, had been blind for a period of his childhood, before he awakened the true extent of those brilliant blue eyes and brought his clan to power by wielding them.
Back then, you thought it was wrong for him to be left alone, so you took him by the hand and escorted him back to the palace, unaware that he was the infamously cursed crown prince.
"You made me feel less lonely. And I thought then... someday, somehow... through some sort of miracle in which I regained my eyesight and could see you... I'd immediately ask for your hand."
But you were named the crown princess of the Eastern Empire. The thought of how crushed Satoru must have felt upon hearing the news pricked at your heart.
You felt soft, you felt loved, and most of all, you felt an overwhelming certainty that with this man by your side, you would finally experience the genuine love that had been missing from your life for so long.
"You have me now," you whispered in response.
Unlike your first kiss in the winery village, this time, you were the one who faced him and pulled him into a searing kiss.
Be it impulse, overwhelming feelings or something else... you didn't care. You just want him.
And wouldn't you know, your new husband... is also a wonderful, dashing lover.
"You're so... fucking beautiful..." Satoru's lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, tracing each curves and lines.
You moaned into his mouth, clutching his robes. He captured your wrists with one hand, using the other to tilt your head back so he could leave bruises on your neck in the process, making you moan.
"Keep making that sound, yeah?" Satoru rasped, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. "Keep me going with your voice."
As he gripped your waist, it dawned to him once again that you were here, with him.
Seeing his colors on you ignited desire straight to his cock. His empress was stunning, more so now than ever, more than any woman Satoru had ever seen.
He led you to the bed, his movements urgent yet tender. The air was thick with desire as you lay back, pulling him down with you. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more.
This wasn't your first time, yet you had never been this excited before. From heated kisses until somehow managing to get rid of your underwear and left you in your dress... your body nearly thrashed in response.
"Look at you... An queen of two empires, yet rendered putty in my hands," Satoru wickedly grinned as he slipped a hand under your dress, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your clit. You let out a soft sigh at the prodding. You were getting wetter by each second... and Satoru felt his cock straining against the tight material of his dress pants.
"More..." you pleaded, arching your hips. "More...!"
Any of your wishes would be his command, so he pushed two fingers inside you at once, and you let out an erotic gasp. Satoru was so close to tearing his pants off by seeing how tight you clenched around his digits.
Breathy moans fell from your lips with each harsh brush of his thumb over your clit, his fingers fucking you fast—
"Satoru...!" you shuddered, gripping his shoulders as you became limp and came into his hands in spurts.
"My queen..." he then captured your lips in a brash kiss, and you reciprocated it. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours in an attempt to calm his raging heart. "No matter what."
His watery, sparkling eyes was mesmerizing to you, and you took one breath before you crashed your lips into his, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
"As pretty as you look in this, I'm going to take it off," Satoru murmured with a meaningful smirk, slowly undoing the laces of your dress. "I want to see you completely naked... just for me."
Soon, you laid bare, and the cold air made your body shiver. Satoru clenched his jaw tightly at the scrumptious sight.
It was almost difficult for him to take in all of you at once—your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, erect nipples, and legs spread wantonly for him. Satoru had been here so many times in his dreams, and to see it becoming reality...
"If back then, you had chosen me instead—" he sounded almost heartbroken, which startled you. "I would have treated you right from the start—"
You looked up to him. "You would..."
"Don't you know how many years... I've been just there— watching you and that bastard? Knowing I can do even more than him?"
"Mhm..."
You rose, tugging him closer, before you unclasped his robe, letting it fall to the floor. "Satoru... right now... I'm yours."
He allowed you to undress him and soon he too was out of his stuffy royal attire. Your eyes wandered on each part of his body you touched. His chiseled body, snow-like skin, and then the hardened bulge that sprung out the moment you undid his pants—
The sight of his cock alone only turned you on even more. You gently gripped the glistening head, running a thumb over the tip before gliding your hand towards the base of his length. With a gentle rhythm, your hand moved from base to tip in a slow, teasing motion... before pecking his head.
"Yeah... you're right." His eyes never left yours, admiring you as if you were the most precious gemstone, before catching you off guard. While you rubbed him, he snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you so that you tumbled on top of him.
You moaned loudly as his cock—big, both in length and width—entered you, his hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart so he can shove himself deeper.
You felt so, so full, as you pulled Satoru to you tightly, groaning into his shoulder. And he started to set the pace, moving against you.
"Ahh," you moaned out shakily, fingers clawing into his back. To him, the sounds you made drew him in like a siren's song, it made him throb inside you. "Ahh—hngh!"
"Feel good?" he asked, voice sultry and deep, as he thrusted into you particularly harder, causing you to stifle a moan. "Let it out—hah—sweetheart... I want to hear you, hmm?"
And you did. You felt hot. Your unabashed, nasty sounds with each thrust drove him to the edge. With every lift of your hips, you squeezed him so tightly it almost made his head spin. His breaths came in short pants too.
"You fit me so damn well," he groaned, holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers. "So fine..."
One woman. It took just one woman—you—to unravel him like this.
"Satoru, harder—" You commanded, wrapping your arms around his neck even as you trembled. "N-not enough... harder!"
He actually had to swallow, because you and your pussy felt so damn tantalizing. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
He slammed his hips against yours twice—no, thrice the previous speed, and you incoherently squealed. The squelching sound of your hips slamming against each other, and the immense wetness coming out where you two were joined... it was clear: you were addicted.
"Did Naoya ever make you feel as good as I do you now?" he drawled, sinking into you impossibly deeper, squeezing your left mound and flicking your right nipple at the same time. "Did he... ever make you ride him like this?" And then he instantly regretted his words.
Because the moment he said that, you felt cold, reminded of nights in which Zen'in Naoya grabbed you just to forcefully breed you. You winced, and Satoru caught it.
"I..." you shifted your gaze away from him, and he could've sworn that it was sorrow he saw flashing in your pretty eyes. "I-I... don't want to talk about him..."
Feeling remorseful, Satoru reached for the back of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing your lips softly. "I'm sorry—"
"You don't have to—"
"Tonight, I'll make you scream my name so hard you'll forget him," he promised as he pulled away from you, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, give me everything and I'll show you how a man truly loves his woman."
And he followed through. He worshipped you meticulously, treating your body with the reverence one might bestow upon delicate glass. He peppered kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach, lips and tongue trailing down, his relentless thrusts so well-paced and brutal at the same time.
"I'm— close!" You whimpered, and yet still grinding your hips against him. He was watching your every move, every wave of pleasure that was evident on your face— committing it to memory for those moments when he couldn't hold you close.
You gasped—as a mind-blowing orgasm then ripped out of your very being, your hips faltering as you surrendered to ecstasy with a cry of his name, coming all over him. "Satoru... Satoru! Ahhh!"
And Satoru kept his gaze on your face as he too busted inside of you hard, feeling himself filling your womb with his essence, his hands kept your waist steady, memorizing the way your lips part and the way your body went limp into him with satisfaction.
Dear heavens, I love you. The sight of you was nothing but perfection, and with everything he had, he was very sincere when he said—
"You're flawless, sweetheart."
2 MONTHS LATER
"If you give me a son, I'll throne you as the empress right on that very day."
The Eastern Empire's palace was bustling as the royal consort's screams echoed through the halls. The day Naoya had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—his mistress was delivering his heir.
Yet unbeknownst to him, whispers in the dark suggested the royal baby was arriving suspiciously early. Many, still mourning the previous empress who had been dethroned so abruptly, were not exactly thrilled with this turn of events.
"My lady, just a little bit more!" the maid encouraged. Hanabi strained once again as the pain peaked and her body spasmed, letting out the loudest wail as the baby finally slid out of her.
"W-what... is it?" on the brink of passing out, Hanabi asked anyone who might hear her. She had to know, for she was so close to obtaining her throne—
"It's a girl, my lady!" the midwife announced.
What?
Her world crumbled at that very moment. A girl? A girl can't be the heir!
She wanted to sob, to utterly mourn, and right at this moment she was full of fear, because if Naoya knew—!
Like a curse, he suddenly made his presence known in the birthing chamber. His face scrunched in distaste at the scent of blood filling the air. He took one look at Hanabi, tearful and frazzled after the ordeal, then turned to the midwife, who was trembling at his presence.
"A baby girl, Your Majesty."
In that instant, fury flashed through him. He shot everyone in the room a glare before his eyes settled on his consort, full of spite.
"You useless tramp."
Your life with Satoru in Western Empire was wonderful.
He was everything Naoya was not. Satoru adored you, prioritized your well-being and happiness, often humored you, and made your days an endless delight.
And dare you say... you had begun to return his affections as well.
How could you not? Everything he did, he did with you in mind. He eased you into your position so seamlessly, and soon you found your place comfortably at court.
"He is mixing pleasure with his kingly duties," Suguru grumbled, watching his best friend order the gardeners to plant more blue roses simply because you mentioned finding them beautiful earlier. "Empress, you have to keep a tight grip on his leash."
"Well, at least he's happy." Shoko shrugged and nudged you. "Can't you see by now? How much of a loser he is for you?"
You did see him—a man who showed you everything he had. He had given you everything you unknowingly needed.
And you just wished... you could return the same for him. It still made you bitter, knowing you might never be able to give him heirs due to your condition.
. . .
"Sweetheart... what's on your mind, hmm?"
You looked up to him as he pressed a kiss on your cheek, an arm securely around you, sweaty and panting after your steamy session.
With his hair down and messy after you yanked him earlier, your lips curved into a genuine smile. "You look hot like this, you know?"
He clicked his tongue. "Hmm, I am, of course. But no use in changing topics, I know you well enough now."
Your bare body was pressed against his chest, fingertips tracing gentle lines on his skin.
"There's a possibility that... I can't give you any children." You almost felt ashamed saying this to him, unable to look at him in the eye. "I-I... I've failed for many years—"
"Hush," he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his expression firm. "No thinking that, yeah? I don't care."
"But—"
"Children are gifts," he said then, caressing your face tenderly. "It's not up to us to control how it'll take or not. And I married you not because I want heirs or such—I love you, you know?"
Your glassy eyes met his, and you willed yourself not to shed a tear.
He grinned cheekily. "Besides, you've felt it yourself—my sexual potency is undeniable. And I don't believe for a second, that you're what that bastard claimed you to be. I bet he's the one who is impotent—"
"Satoru! You're so obscene—!" you giggled freely and poked his chest.
At that time, you were just relieved that he didn't mind. Though it was still weighing in your mind on some days, you felt a newfound sense of liberation compared to when you were still in the Eastern Empire.
But you were in for another plot twist. Perhaps Satoru is correct, and your doubts are unfounded...
"Ugh..."
Your stomach churned in discomfort, a sickening nausea that seemed to twist your insides and threaten to force its way up. This had happened for days now.
You wanted to find a physician before Satoru was aware of your state. You didn't dare to hope or speculate, because you were tired of it by this point. You just wanted clarity.
Yet, the physician's words left you speechless.
"Your Majesty... it seems that you are with child," he remarked in wonder as he assessed your vein. "Yes, definitely. You are with child."
It was a revelation you hadn't expected. For years, you had been convinced that you were unable to conceive, but now...
You were carrying a new life. Yours and Satoru's.
You felt like bursting with joy as you made your way to his study. Your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Above anything else, you were eager to share this news with him—
...until everything you had known turned on its axis once again.
Right before you went past the ajar door, you saw a glimpse of your husband and his most trusted confidant, overhearing snippets of their conversation:
"Satoru, however you look at it, this is tantamount to declaring war," Suguru sighed, clearly at odds with his perspective. "It's not wise."
"We can finally put an end to them this way," Satoru's tone was steely as he moved a chess piece across the map, positioning it on the border between east and west. "No better time than now."
"The Empress will face the greatest backlash from this. They'll accuse her of being vengeful enough to provoke an attack on her home country—"
"On the contrary, her presence will encourage those still loyal to her to defect. That's why I have her here. We need defectors—"
You let out a choked gasp, backing away from the door in shock. For one good minute, you refused to comprehend what Satoru was implying.
. . .
. . .
Did your new husband... marry you for his own hidden agenda?
i want to date and have sex again soooooo bad i want a real man who wants to hang out with me and is fine with big arms and lays beside me in my bed and calls me pretty and makes me nut and makes me breakfast and we get drunk on thursdays and he wants to go on holiday and he likes me loads and wants me to be his girlfriend
here's what a regular morning for geto looks like; at about five when it’s still dark outside and the sun has yet to rise, his alarm beeps. wearing nothing but sweats and house slippers, he checks on the girls while they're still asleep, then walks slowly with shuffling feet and half-opened eyes towards his kitchen. he throws a couple of fruits, some boiled chicken, and protein powder into a blender, then mixes it up while he brushes his teeth at the same time.
if for whatever reason he’s having a particularly bad start—dry skin, frizzed ends, terrible headache—he’d spend more time on prepping for the rest of the day, drink more water, listen to an old song, maybe try that moisturizer this nice stylist once recommended or apply a jelly mask, but thankfully he feels perfectly fine, pimples have been a no-show in months.
he detaches the blender and brings it to his lips, chugging down liquid breakfast in one go because if he stops he’ll gag at the taste. said blender sits in his sink to be washed later on, not now when he’s still thinking about crawling back into bed and retiring early. he grabs his car keys, extra socks in a duffel bag, and is out of the house on his way to the gym by six.
like clockwork, the routine works and it sticks. so it stays.
which is why it's a little disorienting that morning when things don't go according to plan. like how he's out of toothpaste, or that his breakfast sludge tastes extra unbearable.
or that he gets an email with the subject line ‘URGENT—PR Meeting @ 10 am.’ before he's even stepped out the front door.
——————————————————
they've gathered in a fancy boardroom. sitting across from him, his PR manager ijichi looks in ill-health as always, stress and the works. he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, forgoing formalities before stating "geto-san, you should know your image is of utmost importance."
it's how he starts every conversation with geto these days and judging by the lack of reaction, he clears his throat tensely, swallowing the nerves down before continuing, "i'm sure you've seen the footage, of your..." he trails off, thinking of the right word, "—altercation with the fangirl, it's been garnering plenty of backlash."
'UFC Fighter Geto Suguru Bullies Fan' reads the headline. geto's eye twitches then. should've known you'd come back to haunt him. he's failed miserably at ridding his thoughts of that infamous incident, no thanks to his daughters and their pestering to apologize and make amends.
"we understand laying low for the time being would be impossible given your schedule and upcoming projects, but you don't have the best rep right now—" to emphasize, ijichi points to a large projector screen displaying an onslaught of angry comments loading in real-time. unsurprisingly, most of them are in defense of you. oh just look at that poor thing, how dare he disrespect a fan! dragging his name through the mud, his reputation tarnished over a thirty-second clip.
ijichi pipes up again, "—but fear not, we have a plan! all you have to do is make a public apology, we'll do more fan events, and play up the good guy role until all of this blows over."
the damage's already been done, nothing he could say would play well in his favour, the video does what it needs to. so he merely rolls his eyes at the suggestion, "sounds like bullshit." it's way too blatant and obvious, what a setup. no one's falling for it.
and he supposes it'll be the last thing you'd wanna see after being humiliated online. despite getting the most heat, he'd survive this, scandals blow over in a matter of weeks. but you'd forever hold on to this memory with hurt. that and maybe hatred too. he's not betting his chances on your continued support as his 'number-one fan'.
ijichi clears his throat, avoiding geto's intense gaze, "n-nonetheless, we'll try to give our best options moving forward, incidents like these are rather common occurrence with clients like you." what he means by that of course, is geto's now placed within the same category as the prissy, self-entitled c-list influencers they represent. his blood boils just thinking about it. even more so when ijichi adds fuel to the evergrowing fire, chaos unleashed—"it's also worth mentioning that the board is calling for your suspension from all competition until further notice...they're concerned about how it might look having a 'bully' on their match roster."
there’s an eerie silence that follows and geto realizes that they're serious. having the courtesy to cover their faces while hunched over stacks of papers. he means piles of white that’s filled with legal jargon and whatever else.
at that moment, it sinks in. he's in deep shit. absolutely fucking screwed. "what does she want?" he snaps, his patience growing thinner by the second. what he's learned from years of experience is that people are predictable. selfish. fame and fortune have done a number on him. hiding behind a carefully crafted persona, geto knows the game and plays it well. initially, it had been about survival. never letting them see who he really was. no weaknesses, just a cursed curation subjected to these frivolous, insignificant things.
attend the photoshoots, get the sponsors, sit on sukuna's podcast for an hour talking about his wins, his losses, promote his latest films—alongside gojo in a remake of baywatch and his highly anticipated villain role in the new bond film. the appeal of a sexy, evil man dodging bullets and throwing punches in a suit is universal—but it's a lot less glamorous than it seems.
ijichi waves a hand to calm him, "best we shouldn't try to escalate the situation, reaching out to her will only cause more trouble, let's stick to the plan—"
geto ignores them completely. grabbing his belongings—albeit too forcefully—before making his way toward the exit. he feels all eyes on him, expecting some brilliant idea that would magically fix his problems. if it's monetary compensation you want, the idea isn't foreign to him. he's had run-ins with stalkers and greedy ex-girlfriends asking for the same thing. "fuck this—" he says, sternly, stubbornly, "—i'll speak to her myself."
——————————————————
"any objections?" geto asks from his seat across from you, rubbing the last bits of strawberry jam from the corner of his lips with his thumb. frosted cream he licks off the healing cut on his upper lip without so much as flinching from the sting. you bet he tastes the metallic blood too.
unsurprising that the most mundane actions get you hot and bothered. turns out all it takes is an all-black fit and a nasty attitude. if only this weren't a crepe cafe, if only there weren't a table between you and the sweetness on his tongue. the dessert is all but gone, but seeing him suck the remnants off his finger makes you want to jump his bones. sit atop his spread thighs and kiss that sexy smirk off his face.
"plenty," you tell him, "i have no interest in being your girlfriend," you turn your nose up, feigning disinterest. you tell yourself you're practically over him at this point, who cares that he's so irresistible. you've got much more of a backbone than that! gone are the days of fawning over him now that you've seen the man hidden beneath the very shiny surface.
geto laughs, loud and brash. "as if," his sardonic reply agitates you even further. "listen, i don't know how to break this to you but...you're not my type." for effect, his eyes boldly trail down your body, not trying to be subtle and his grin widens after seeing your face contort with irritation, those teeth cheekily biting down on his straw like he's got a secret. like he knows he's getting under your skin.
you feel the hairs on your arms bristle like a cat in defense. "stop that," you warn, arms crossing over your body, doing no justice in hiding it. "just tell me what you want."
“i wanna get to know you more, as friends—” he says calmly, adding that last bit just to be sure and you scoff in disbelief. he wants to get to know you apparently. whatever that means. god help him, he actually continues "—and you sorta owe me, your little stunt is costing me my career, i'm sure you've heard about the suspension."
"my stunt?! i had nothing to do with that!” you exclaim. it's not your fault that video went viral, and if he's so concerned with his oh-so-precious career he should've thought about that before he delivered those off-handed, off-ensive words!
"regardless, we’re in this shitshow together, best we make the most of it," he reasons. leaning back in his seat, he takes off his hoodie before tossing it over his lap. he's getting comfortable, stretches his arms out, and rolls his broad shoulders under that sinful black t-shirt. borderline provocative. it stretches over his chest and hugs his biceps tight. your eyes widen at the veins running down his forearm, oh sweet rivers of blue, what you'd do to have a feel.
averting your eyes back to his, you challenge him on the matter, "and if i say no?"
ever the arrogant man, his lips curve into a self-assured smile. happily admitting, "you wouldn't."
it sounds like the perfect opportunity on paper—a dream come true. exactly as you pictured it. to be by his side, to earn his favour, his undivided or however-much-provided attention. but where you fit in is still uncertain, it feels more like an elaborate plot leading to your downfall, one that involves him making your life a living hell. if anything's certain, he's not to be trusted. "not precisely," you spit out.
geto inches closer, resting his forearms on the table and tilting his head. "you have every chance to say no," he says, making it sound honest but that deceptively genial expression stays.
the thing is, you have friends. none of whom had fallen into place like geto has. selectively, by your own doing. you already know his favourite colour, his date of birth, all his records and achievements, where he likes and dislikes to get his soba— his favourite meal by the way, a piece of him you've once shared on your very popular fan account while the other fans were still speculating, second-guessing—hah! you patted yourself on the back for being so knowledgable, as if you were so much closer to him, but completely delusional as you've left out the fact that it wasn't proven and he said no such thing.
but when you decided he was going to have a space in your heart, your life, separating fact and fantasy was never part of it. this wasn't a spark of fate, you were merely one in a sea of millions latching on to the end of his red string. and yet, it all feels so destined when the same...or the real geto suguru sits before you now. "what's your favourite food?" you ask, breaking the silent pause.
he's taken aback at the sudden question but he ponders, "dumplings," it's definitely not the answer you were expecting, but it's the answer you want. the first of many you hope he shares with you.
he asks in return, "what about you?"
"soba," you reply. a glimmer in his eye sparks at the sound of it.
"i know a really good place," his face softens. "maybe we could check it out sometime."
"as...friends?" you question.
"friends," suguru concludes with a self-satisfied smile.
—————————————————
he's invited you over the next week. 'i need you to look after the girls while i'm away.' is reason enough for him to let you into his fine abode. it's smaller than expected, something a celebrity like him would usually scoff at, opting for big mansions and penthouses. instead, his apartment is reminiscent of just about every other apartment in tokyo. no fancy furniture or frilly accents. cozy, simple, and in desperate need of more space.
he greets you by the door along with the girls. they tug on his sweater, reaching up for him to carry them in his arms. it makes your heart melt to see how he obliges their every request. "i'll be home as soon as i can," he tells them, "it's not fun without you." he hates going away. most days are filled with missing them, worrying about schedules and well-beings with every slow second that ticks by. he talks of movie sets and going over countless scripts, but promises to bring them back a souvenir or two.
you'd like to relish in the warmest parts of him for a little longer, how nice to be on the receiving end of his doting, kind eyes. gently creasing with every smile, every breathy laugh that pours from him. saved only for his daughters it seems.
geto leads you toward the laundry room and strips out of his sweater as he continues to pack, handing it to you. "don't ruin the wool, it was expensive," the instruction almost flies over your head when you see his shirtless body up close.
the tattoos are new. coloured scales and deep blacks lining them. so detailed and symbolic. curving over his neck, his solid pecs and squared shoulders, down the dips of his biceps, stopping short by the crease of his elbow. still shiny and vibrant under a transparent adhesive wrapped tight around the skin.
"sure," you reply and try not to gawk at him, telling yourself to be patient because you'd have fun with this image later on in private when the dishes are wiped dry and the soft plush of his guest bed calls to you ("your bed," he refers to it without correcting himself.) only then would you indulge in the imagery of fearsome creatures painting his body, monsters and beasts with claws and scales—all for what you'll think, is it merely just a way for him to scare off opponents? to seem intimidating? prideful thing that he is.
does he sit there and groan in pain when the needle strikes deep into dermis, or does he think of you. of your wide eyes admiring the art, admiring his tolerance for the pain. the healing process is just as much of a test of strength, of control, and he won't admit just how much he longs to give into your gentle fingers brushing over the raw, sensitive skin. "ive cleaned my hands!" you'll assure him, before rubbing the ointment over the pockets of tightness, urging him to never peel the flaking, itching bits.
he goes over the specifics, which products to use, how he likes to separate the fabrics by colour and material, a symbols chart that's printed and taped to the wall for reference—"school uniforms are a priority, make sure you iron them, socks and undergarments should be washed every day, don't bother with fabric softener, it builds up over time," he explains with such familiarity. like he's gone through this exact script plenty of times. it makes you curious as to why he didn't bother hiring a housekeeper.
"i'm not letting a random stranger into my house," he says, a little insulted you would even ask. which makes sense when you remember he's filed for multiple restraining orders in the past. but you force yourself to not burst at the seams with raging pride when you realize you're no longer in 'random stranger' territory. "and the girls like you," he adds softly, barely audible above the humming machines but you hear it loud and clear.
it's then you notice it for the first time when his duffle is thrown carelessly atop the dryer, forgetting to zip it shut. tucked inside amongst a sea of items, you find the condoms there.
your eyes grow wide, cheeks heating up. he's got them in three different colours too, a variety. were they for different types of sex? you don't actually know, because a virgin like you can't even look at them on the shelves let alone actually read what's on the box.
was he using them? is he dating someone new? you won't ask, it's none of your business. jealousy knotting in your stomach when thinking of his escapades. all those women who got to see a foil packet in his hands, watching him tear it open with his teeth like some barbarian, so hard and eager. what chance does the thinnest bit of latex have when up against his hardness. springing forth and spreading the material wide. snug and tight.
or course he'd be sexually active. he's a virile, hot-blooded man with needs, and you...well, you're happy with the plenty of orgasms you receive from your toy. you have no choice but to be optimistic. it takes years of self-pleasure sessions to learn one's body. and those years of fantasizing were saved for him, there was no one else. all the failed dates and one-night stands. leading up to nothing. the awkward conversations and uncomfortable trysts at foreplay just won't do, you need the only person that would satisfy you. no man could live up to it.
picturing geto is the only thing that gets you there—tossing you around, folding you in half, those large hands fitting into every crevice perfectly, looming atop you every night as you slide your toy deeper, fast strokes hitting your spot with perfect accuracy, over and over, a stray hand reaching towards your throat and holding your breaths hostage—
still, you shake yourself rid of those thoughts, geto's made it clear you're not his type. he isn't attracted to chubby virgins who have a fanatic past. least of all when he's got his choice of any woman he wants.
"you okay?" geto asks while he puts his hair up in a bun. the sight alone makes you want to scream in frustration and claw at the walls.
"fine," you shoot him a forced smile. you'll have a hot shower tonight, use you toys til the batteries run out, til his sheets are a soaked-through mess, it'll be fine, you'll clean them well, h'es taken you through the process after all. you're convinced by then the soft pang in your chest shall fade and you won't think about those stupid condoms anymore.
—————————————————
by the time summer arrives, you find yourself stuck in between two greek gods. geto and gojo stood towering on either side of you basking in the heat. their skin hot, tanned, kissed by californian sun and sand. their laughter caught in between the space above your beach hat-covered head. you don't catch the conversation when all you think about is the one, two, hundred drops of sea water trailing down sculpted muscles. your eyes zeroing on the dips of geto's neck as he takes large swigs of water, gulping down. your teeth itching for a bite, tongue urging for a taste of his salty, sweat-damp skin.
"okay, take five!" the director's rusty voice sounds through the megaphone and it's your cue to hobble back to your makeshift area of shade and little comforts. like your books and your endless supply of mojitos. omitting the fact that you ogle suguru the entire time from behind said books, biting your lip at the way he saunters out the water.
rule number one of being geto suguru's friend—don't stare.
because you don't hide the sexual frustration very well. two long weeks of imagining him in place of the leading men between the pages as well as the sheets—regency rakes on horseback, a professor in a library, a priest disciplining you for being oh so sinful—you're desperate for the lifeguard this time. "fuck me sideways..." you curse under your breath, watching suguru over the edge of your sunglasses. his body does all the right things, tempting back muscles calling out to you, shining broad shoulders that slant lazily in his laidback stance, hands over his narrow hips, and an ass sculpted to perfection under swim shorts so tight. you imagine what it'll look like flexing with every hard thrust inside of you, keeping your legs locked behind him...
gojo's grin widens over geto's shoulder when he's caught you. and you don't look away in time before suguru's head turns to catch you in the act as well. shooting you a playful wink and a smile that makes your heart beat double time, the curve of it turns you into this hungry, greedy thing. to feel it against your shoulder if he were spooning you, would he kiss you there while he fucks you slow and deep, holding you safe and secure, making you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
and his body does half the job when he’s got one of those faces too, the gaze of every woman entrapped. salivating and staring at him with expectation, anticipation. gets stopped every few seconds by random girls to take selfies, or to ask if he was so very kind to help apply sunscreen on their backs, not to mention he’s real chummy with the ladies playing extras. their familiarity with one another leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
compared to the rest, you stand out wearing just an oversized t-shirt and bikini bottoms. modest, plain, abut geto knows you hide enticing curves underneath. much is left to his imagination but your thighs peeking from below the hem is all he needs.
“you’re staring,” says gojo pointedly, smirking at his best friend drooling over you. “so this is what you've been up to?” gojo’s just trying to rile him up but geto’s eye twitches at the thought of him speaking about you. like he's watching you with the same heated gaze.
"she's sweet" gojo adds, his grin widening "i like sweet," his eyes stay fixated on you, lifting his sunglasses up to get a better look now that you've resorted to lounging on your side.
"don't even think about it," geto tries to play it off as light teasing but even he hears the warning caught in his voice.
as you reach for the third glass of the day, you feel geto's presence behind you. "are you reading porn—" he asks, you're about halfway through your book, somewhere in the middle of a sex scene featuring a pirate and his royal captive at sea. "huh, didn't think you were the type," he gets a whiff of mint on your breath, the smell of old paper, and sunscreen goodness by the crook of your neck.
you choke on the first sip, "it's a romance novel!" you sputter.
he smirks, "ah, forgive me, i couldn't tell from all that filth."
"i-it's not filth!—" your voice rises in pitch.
"i'd say a princess doing anal on a pirate ship is pretty filthy." yes, absolutely yes it is. and don't you know it. but he doesn't get to make fun of you.
"s-she...she trusts him! and he's gentle with her, he's the only one who understands her needs, she's not just some princess—" why should you be defending yourself. sure, there's no denying these books are erotic, marketed for the lonesome and horny, but you are anything but ashamed. "these books are written by very talented women! reducing it to just porn would be a disservice!"
when he all but takes it as a sign to walk away, you decide to turn away from him, "you don't get it," you spit out.
he's still chuckling to himself. "you're right, i wouldn't know, i've never been the romantic kind," he says, choosing then to sit cross-legged beside you. he's been doing it more often these days, spending his free time with you.
you narrow your eyes suspiciously, pursing your lips "how unfortunate, i love romantic men, i want a man who treats me like a goddess and worships the ground i walk on." you sigh, just thinking about it makes you yearn.
geto's face cringes, "men like that don't exist," he says. his will to protect stirs within, something about this hopeless romantic before him. doesn't help that his initial impression of you was just that. a damsel, helpless and scorned. a princess in need of rescuing. tells him you've never been saved before, never been touched and handled with care.
you stiffen at his reply, often you've heard it from the people around you, nothing unfamiliar about a harsh reality check, "well they do in my books and that's enough for me."
——————————————————
"care to explain what you were doing out so late? bad date? or...did you get stood up?" geto asks. leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom with one hand stuffed into his bontan pants and the other mindlessly jangling his car keys about.
"if you don't mind, i would rather not talk about it," your voice comes out stuffy, waning between frustration and hopelessness. he's watching as you hurriedly rid yourself of the tears. maybe if you were better at hiding your emotions, then you'd be safe and sound, away from his judgemental, cocky smirk.
"i went out to this club—" you finally explain, not noticing the tick in his jaw. "—thought it was gonna be fun, i'd dance a little, have a few drinks, maybe get lucky.” it was a stretch to think so but you had to stay optimistic, this was meant to be the first step in moving on! finding love is hard enough in the wild, even harder when the man you have feelings for doesn't want you back but still manages to take up every corner of your life.
plus, you dressed up and he didn't even mention it, didn't even say you looked nice. how pitiful, no amount of makeup or designer dresses could hide the rejection you feel. and under geto's scrutiny, it weighs heavier than ever.
geto thinks it's pure torture seeing you by your vanity, platform heels tossed by the side and a velvet dress so tight your cleavage spills over, the fur jacket is a nice touch and so are the earrings. "is that why you're dressed like a stripper?" he doesn't intend for it to sound the way it does, but it comes out through gritted teeth thinking about that last part. about some sleaze putting his hands on you, buying you a drink, sweet talking you into his bed when you didn't belong there. were you giggling like a teen at every compliment? biting on your straw and looking past your shoulder at the most mediocre men?
"w-what, no!" instantly, your pride is knocked a few notches down at his comment, "i was trying to look pretty! is it so bad to wanna be noticed?" you have that pout on your face and it takes everything within him not to kiss you, here and now, show you just how much he's noticed you.
"i highly doubt you wouldn't be noticed," he says. what he means, of course, is that you couldn't be sexier if you tried, glossy lips and glittery eyes, how the fuck was he able to withstand the drive back. white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel as he forces his erection away when your dress hikes all the way up, thick thighs calling out to him. he could spread you here and eat you out, make you lose your mind, but he stays put instead, geto won't give you a reaction, steels himself after taking deep breaths, you can wear whatever you like, he concludes, you wouldn't need his approval or opinion.
"yeah, well, no one did," you mutter, taking off your makeup and releasing your hair from its do, geto sneaks a glimpse at your reflection, watching as your hair releases into wild tresses, cascading across your shoulders and framing your face in that regal way.
looking around, he notices the soft bedding, the sheer curtains, everything about this room juxtaposes his, so soft and...girly. finds the empty spaces on the walls and atop the shelves, where his image would rest. it should feel daunting, knowing the lengths of your obsession but as he watches you now, he can't help but feel a tugging his chest. like he's fond. you're so...endearing.
"what's that?" he points to a small photo tucked by a corner of your vanity mirror. standing by the center of an octagon cage, a seventeen-year-old geto's smile is hindered by a mouthguard, however, joy and triumph are evident on his face. blood splatters across his skin but you both know it belongs to another, an opponent he's knocked out flat without any scruples—
"your first win," you note, a youthful face and bangs tucked behind his ear, so fresh they have yet to scar and bloat into the ears he owns now. "don't worry i threw the rest out the day we met but this photo is special." because you spent many nights as a moon-eyed teen, sighing and singing, wishing him into your life as more than just an idol. and because it was the start and ironically, the end too. the last moments before he'd got caught up in everything.
at that moment you move towards him, the straps of your dress start to fall down your shoulder and you're emboldened by heated cheeks and wobbling steps from all those caipirinhas, “um...i need some help,” you whisper, forgetting that your dinner pudge is showing and you've got layers of shapewear underneath. fuck it, the worst he could do is say no. you want to feel the warmth of his presence, to have him pull this dress off you, watch his pupils dilate, his mouth parting as he tastes you for the first time on your bed, feast on you in this very room.
surprisingly, geto's eyes darken with every step you take, his hands reaching out towards your hips instantly, "turn around," he obliges, and you obediently follow after his call. his breath shudders as he gently pulls the zipper down the delicious curve of your back, revealing smooth skin and all the flesh he’s dying to taste. his fingers merely hovering, too afraid to touch but he slips then and you gasp at the feel, a slight brush of his skin just above your waist.
"you're...not bad y'kno," he whispers, low and almost...painful. like it takes everything within him to admit. the weight of his words is heavy, too much for him to shoulder, but he needs you to know it.
"not bad?" you ask. you don't know why it hurts, why it doesn't feel as good as it should, he's fucking with you. that has to be it. so capable of pulling you in and spitting you back out as he did the first time, toying with your feelings however he so pleases.
"i'm just trying to make you feel better," he lies and it's the worst thing he's ever tasted on his tongue, "isn't that what you wanna hear?"
"dont pity me," you sigh. it stings in the worst places. all those internal wounds ready to open up again. you throw away any hope that he'd ever like you that way. he never made any promises and you were foolish to think he'd want more. friends. you remind yourself. just friends.
"i think you should leave," you say without hesitation. fast enough to pull away from the burn, to release yourself from this...longing.
geto swallows the urge, reluctantly pulling himself away just as you willed it. you've had a long night and he's done nothing but make things worse. his feelings muddled with lust, he's so uncertain, so unworthy, "i'm sorry," he says, because it's all he can offer you. and as the door shuts on his way out, the resounding echo does nothing to hide the sob that breaks from you.
——————————————————
"you're kidding me," he groans, crossing his arms while leaning against the archway by the kitchen with an exasperated look plastered on his face. furrowed brows etching a fold between his narrowed eyes when he sees you.
not wanting to stir up an argument first thing at such an early hour, he tries to ask about the commotion. yet you're currently bent over searching for god knows what. metal clanging around nosily, it does nothing to distract him from the view of your ass. the moment you rise from below the counter does he see you sporting his white t-shirt. "it was all you had lying around, and since things will get messy..." you trail off, avoiding his gaze shifting from the top of your head, down your ample chest, halting right atop your thighs, most likely examining your shorts...or what seems to be a lack thereof.
"you trying to distract me?" he would fight you on it. tell you how inappropriate, how...tempting you're being. but he'd be dead before stepping into the ringer with you. geto is convinced you've got a vendetta against him, out to kill him with your perfect ass and juicy thighs hugging those shorts, they fit like a glove in the best sense. shit, he can even see your perky tits hiding underneath his shirt. his, he wants to reiterate.
would you like to be ravished here? wonders if he should use that strength he's honed over the years to pin you down and keep you there—not that it would be required, you'd fold immediately in his arms, bending you over this island—but he's meant to get the breakfast sludge started, this is neither the time nor place. don't you know he is a depraved and desperate man with zero self-control.
"i'm much more than just my body," you say, turning around and putting your hair up in a bun. giving him a view of that tantalizing slither of skin, baring the nape of your neck and shoulders, flesh calling out for his lips, his teeth, "could you get started on the dumplings?" you add, gesturing to the ones you've kept in the fridge last night.
geto eyes the frozen homemade dumplings you've left out to thaw. to his surprise, his cock goes fully hard at the sight. a raging hard-on that tents and throbs and teeters him on the edge of breaking when he remembers you working on them; mixing the meat filling, folding the skin messily, lips that quirk up every time your wonky, imperfect wraps split down the middle. geto pressed up against you from behind as he guides your hands masterfully, pleating the edges around a spoonful of pork and chives, “gently now,” he instructs, it’s not meant to be as hot as it sounds but you don't protest, “your hands are amazing,” you gasp when it comes out perfect.
and when you're out of meat filling, you dust your hands rid of flour. then place them over the apron snug around your belly, and suddenly he's drawn...so enticing the way they sit atop the swell of it, bringing them up to your face just as round and full, your forehead damp with sweat. he feels pride at being able to teach you something new, wonders what else he could teach you, with more than his hands, this primal side of him awakened. all that pent-up frustration seeping from him. it’s the final straw, fuck the dumplings.
"you're doing this on purpose aren't you," he corners you then, lifting and setting you down on his counter. looking into your eyes staring at him shocked, like you've been caught. he continues, "well i'm not falling for it." he's so assured when he says it aloud, but his willpower slips more and more. so close, so desperate for it.
he doesn't remember the last time he's kissed, let alone fucked a woman as beautiful as you. how did he get here, inviting a fan into his house, his life. the infamous meet-ugly is never mentioned but you've caught his interest, his attention. who dares to peel back the layers and delve within the deepest parts of him. doesn't say he's sorry or that he'd regretted it. these words won't do enough. repentance feels so unfamiliar. still, he wishes to kneel by your feet, begging for you to release him from all that discomfort. the need to prove himself outweighs his need for self-preservation. setting aside his own ego for the chance that you'd see his heart hidden beneath.
who is he to touch you, why does it feel so good, why does it ache so bad? you'd do better not to trust him, he's not a real person but a jumbled mess of things he led the world to think—
"i don't know what you're talking about," you challenge him, your voice rife with arousal and desire. his large arms caging you in, eager hands grasping at your thigh and flinching at the mere brush of your skin, scorching hot and scalding. inching their way across your body. those fingers so curious and deft, he slides them up the opening of your shorts, finding nothing underneath but the heated core of you. when he raises an eyebrow in lieu of asking, you charge in. pressing your soft lips against his and feeling his resolve break in return.
déjà vu : a french term that translates to "already seen." It is a phenomenon where an individual feels a strong sense of familiarity or recognition with a current situation.
bnha chap. 362 n 403 spoilers ! childhood friends to lovers can you tell i'm inlove with this trope oooorrr…, angsty?? bittersweet hurt/comfort ?? fem reader, reader's height isn't specified but is shorter than katsuki's, reader gets a bit insecure but katsuki fixes that up rq, reader is very mushy n inlove with katsuki, (but aren't we all) katsuki loves reader very much in return
in his final moments, katsuki thinks of you.
he thinks about primary school. you’re both ten, double digits. foolishly believing you were all grown up. katsuki’s fingers are white and dry from cleaning up the chalkboard, since you guys were tasked for clean up duty today.
or at least, you were. but your classmate suddenly vanished without a word and katsuki, as nice and helpful as he was (to you, at least) decided to stay behind to help you, don’t ask him where your cleaning buddy went, he has absolutely no idea and has absolutely nothing to do with it. at all.
“ y’know—” he starts, soaking the soggy sponge into the water bucket next to him, then squeezing it out. “when we’re done with this stupid school stuff, i’ll go pro.” he states, slapping the sponge onto the board, creating a loud splat noise.
you, having heard this time and time before, simply look at him and smile, placing your classmates chairs on top of their desks row by row “mhm, i know !” you grin “ 'n you’ll be number one, right ?” you’re standing in between two desks, hands playing with your uniform skirt behind you’re back.
“hell yeah i will !” katsuki boasts, smirking. he scrubs at the board a little more vigorously.
“bad word !” you tease, giggling as you point at him “ 'm gonna tell miss you said a cuss word again !”
he huffs, turning around to scrunch his nose up and stick his tongue out at you, you stick yours out back playfully. “as if i care ! yer too much of a wuss to snitch on me anyways.”
“no I’m not, i’ll do it right now !” katsuki rolls his red eyes at you, returning to his task and wiping the board down in a zig zag motion. “ i don’t care” he reiterates.
you pout at his back and just then get an idea you’re sure will piss him off, a cat like grin pulls at your lips.
“okaaayy … then i’ll just tell your mom !” you sing, bursting into giggles when he swiftly turns around and waves the wet sponge in your direction. he’s too far to reach you but you dodge anyway, just to mess with him.
“no you won’t.”
“yeah, i will !” you counter, blowing a raspberry at him. you both break out into a fit of giggles when he aggressively dips the sponge into the water and flicks the droplets at you once more, before he decides to close the distance and chase you around your cramped little classroom growling and screaming, threatening you with the dirty sponge.
you’re squealing and giggling and laughing, trying to fend him off with a broom and even then, at ten. then when the concept of cherishing memories of the time you spend together wasn’t even an afterthought in his mind, katsuki remembers wishing he could stay with you like this forever.
when you’re both out of breath the classroom is just as messy—if not messier than it usually is. you give eachother a look then belly laugh some more.
you’re picking up chairs again and katsuki’s helping you, so it goes even faster. you don’t wanna go home because you won’t be seeing him anymore, but you have to admit your eager to finish and leave school.
katsuki’s back is to you on the second row and he can’t see you looking at him from the back row, he decides it’s time he says what he wanted to say before you got distracted. he clutches the legs of the chair he’s holding a little tighter.
“hey,” his voice comes suddenly in the quiet, it surprises you a little, you hum in response “ 'm really gonna go pro when we’re done with school, y’know.” he insisted.
you tilt your head wearily, looking at him with his back still turned to you. “yeah, i know.” you respond “you said that already.” you’re confused, he can’t hear the scrapping noise of the wooden chairs anymore, it’s annoyingly too quiet now.
“ you’re coming with me” he pauses, turning to you a little so you catch a peak of his quickly reddening face. it sounds like a statement but even then you know better. you don’t miss a beat, nodding furiously “uhuh, always !” his cheeks flare up more as he turns fully towards you. he walks over until the only thing separating you is the desk in between. he turns his back to you again to lean against the desk seperating you both.
“you’ll be with me, and we’ll be pro's together” he maintained. he feels his chest tighten when you offer him more of your pretty bright smiles and nods, you smile at him the way he knows you don’t with the other boys in class who are stupid enough to think they deserve even a second of your time and it makes him feel a little bit more confident as he speaks more clearly “a-and I’ll be number one, and you’ll be number two. but not behind me, with me, yknow ?” he feels stupid for having to explain himself but you don’t mind, as long as you can stay with katsuki you don’t mind which number you are. you move across the table so you can stand next to him. you nod and he let's out a little huff and a smile starts pulling at his mouth.
"a-and" he gulps " 'n then—i'll marry you."
it's quiet for just moment.
and then you register what he said and feel your entire body heat up.
"w-wha ?! " you sputter "marry me ?!" your wide eyes startle him as he glances at you but refuses to look over again. he's red to the tips of his ears, pulling at the bottom of his now longer tucked in shirt. despite the growing lump in his throat, he nods.
"mhm," he kicks at an eraser laying on the floor, the only noise heard coming from it hitting a wall a little further. you don't see where, you're still looking at him. " my ma says i can't do it now, since it's...illegal, or something." he scoffs dissaprovingly "b-but..when 'm older," he sucks in a breath, then suddenly turns to you causing you to sit up straighter in suprise, you feel your hands gripping the desk tighter and tighter as your face feels more and more on fire. "when i'm older—i'll do it. that way, none of those other losers will look at you."
he looks way more flustered than you but he's sitting up straight still, eyes determined and unwavering and it knocks the wind out of you, because for as long as you can remember katsuki's been the coolest.
there's absolutely no doubt in your mind he's embarrassed. if his face wasn't a dead give away, his posture and demeanor give it away just as much. you've known him for a long time now, since you were 6 years old and he had walked up to you. little newbie you, who had transferred in the middle of the school year and with nobody to play with. he was there, head held high with his friends in tow behind him, demanding to know what your quirk was and the rest was history.
katsuki persists even when he knows the odds are low, he perseveres and keeps kicking and punching and blowing up everything in his path where anyone else would've given up while they had the chance. like when he fought against those 4th graders while you were all still only in 2nd grade. his face was all messed up and he had a nosebleed, but he ended up winning. because he swore he would keep winning.
'cus that's what heroes do.'
katsuki fights and keeps fighting even if you think the odds are low, because he doesn't. to him, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he'd win. even here, when he isn't fighting, instead confessing to you. he's red-faced, embarrassed out of his mind and nervous, but his shoulders are squared and there's no doubt in his eyes after he had just told you he would marry you. when he thought about being older, he thought about you being there with him.
and even after what you'd heard all you can think is that your katsuki is so cool.
so with a bright smile, bright eyes and the summer sun slowly setting in your empty little cramped classroom, you give him your response.
"mhm ! "
katsuki thinks about his last year of middle school.
today's the last day of your middle school life before you go off to high school and katsuki couldn't be happier to leave this shitty school. he's 15 now. older, but besides his features, remained the same (to you, at least) .
it's your last day and you finish it off with cleaning duty, ironically, and he remembers that day back in elementary. then proceeds to shake it off, hoping to shake off the embarrassing memories. but it doesn't seem to work because it feels like the universe is seriously fucking with him.
you're the one tasked with cleaning duty again and with your cleaning buddy, yet again, being nowhere to be found. katsuki yet again staying behind to help you out. and again, katsuki has absolutely no idea where your buddy went and has absolutely nothing to do with it. at all.
it shouldn't be anything new, he stays and helps, albeit begrudingly, every time you have cleaning duty. but it feels different somehow. katsuki chalks it up to it being the end of the year.
the only difference from last time is you actually finish in record time. usually, that would've been great news, less time at school and even more free time katsuki can spend with you.
but you're quiet today.
you usually chat his ear off, and just because it's you, he chat's right back. wether you're messing around teasing each other or just talking about your day at school or who's house you're staying over at for the afternoon and which movie you're watching, you're always talking about something. it's comforting where he'd usually think it to be annoying with anyone else. but they aren't you.
and he doesn't like it.
when you finish you reach for your bag sitting neatly on top of your desk but katsuki stops you, grabbing your wrist. the feel of your soft skin has him involentarily flushing lightly, he ignores it in favor of squeezing your wrist when you don't immediately look back at him.
"what's up with you ?" he questioned gruffly. it comes out harsh, but that's not what you hear. you've known katsuki for a long time, after all. he's worried, you can tell. his words are rough around the edges but his eyes are soft, filled with care and the soft stroke of his thumb against you skin sends slight shivers down your spine when you turn to look at him shyly.
you open your mouth to deny him, but he can practically read your mind "don't give me that 'nothinngg' bullshit" your nose scrunches at the way his voice raises in pitch as he crudely mimicks you and a little smirk pulls at his face for only a moment before it falls again " don't go lyin' to me. know i hate that shit" he rasped.
you sigh, he's known you just as long as you'd known him after all.
you lean against your desk and he copies you, your shoulders brushing as he scoots himself a little closer to you. you jump up a little to sit on your desk, you're the same height as him like this. he scoots a little closer and turns to look at you, placing his hands on your desk to lean on it, fingers inches away from yours.
"i just—" you faltered "this our last day of school. when the day is over we'll be high schoolers." you stated. katsuki scoffs jokingly and leans a bit closer to you "what ? you tellin' me youre gonna miss this dump ? last i heard, you were the first one who wanted to leave so you wouldn't have to deal with mr. nakamura anymore." he jests, trying to lighten the mood as best he could, the worry in his eyes still shining bright. a smile pulls at the corner of his lips when you huff out a little giggle.
"yeah well, i won't be missing mr. nakamura. or his stupid tests" you pretend to shiver as you cringe "at all." katsuki let's out a cute chuckle. he's like a magnet, you feel yourself scooting closer to where he's leaning next to you, like you're being pulled closer to him, you don't mind. you never mind being close to katsuki.
"but..?" he coaxed, knowing that wasn't all you wanted to say.
"but.." you continue "but i'll miss this, yknow ? like—the school itself wasn't..the best" katsuki scoffs in response but doesn't interrupt "the teachers weren't either. but—i dunno—this. being here." you confess, you stare down at your shoes as you kicks your legs aimlessly into the air " we've spent such a long time here, and now we're leaving. we went from being the youngest—to the oldest, to going back to being the youngest again, and that in itself isn't the problem.."
"then what is ?" he raises a brow.
"we're gonna be in a completely different school, with completely different people—"
"but we'll be together." he interrupts "you said you wanted to go to ua too" you said you were gonna stay with me is what he wants to say, but it's childish and that wouldn't be fair to you.
"of course, i still do !" you reassure "but—there'll be tons of new, strong, cool people at ua.."
"maybe even stronger and cooler than me.." you trail off. you don't need to say more for katsuki to understand what you mean and it pissed him off.
"shut up." he growls.
"katsuki—"
"no. shut the fuck up." he's right in front of you before you can blink. you reflexively part your legs and he takes the opportunity to stand even closer to you, right in your space. you feels your cheeks warm at the proximity, your close enough to see it's apparently affecting him too, his cheeks turning a cute pink but as stubborn as your katsuki is he doesn't budge. as usual.
you don't exactly know what you and katsuki are. you know you like him, you know you have for a long time. and you'd like to believe he likes you too. he doesn't act the way he does with you the way he does with his other friends (or his lackeys as he calls them, you're the only one he openly calls his friend) but he doesn't really have anyone close to him besides you, so you don't know if he'd act this way with someone else.
the thought leaves a nasty taste in your mouth, so you decide to focus on something else. something else being katsuki, of course, he's all up in your space. his gaze not allowing you to look or even think about anything else but him.
"who i meet at ua doesn't fuckin' matter, they'll all be weaksauce compared to me anyway" he states smugly, causing you to huff out a laugh again " i don't care if theyre cool, or strong" his nose scrunches up in disgust as he quips venomously "i don't care about any of that—and i don't hang out with you because of that either—i fuckin' care about you because you're you."
your heart stutters.
" what, you think i hang out witcha because of superficial shit like that ? you mockin' me or something ?"
"no, no course not !" you insist, shaking your head.
" exactly, so don't..." he huffs, looking away from you towards the ground, there's a random eraser lying on the ground and he kicks it "don't go saying dumb shit like that."
"i don't waste my time with just anyone, 's why i'm wastin' it with your ass" he jokes, chuckling when you squeeze his nose in response. supressing a smile and whining at him when he leans forward to bite yours.
"katsuki, you're gross !" you giggle as you push at his face, he smiles lightly at the sound of your laughter, one of his favorite sounds. "ya started it." he disputes weakly, his smile turning into a smirk when you groan and then it falls again as he looks at you seriously.
" but seriously" he starts "i mean it, y'know. don't just say shit to say it"
"i know" you smile. he grunts in acknowledgement then continues.
"i don't care about how cool those future ua asshats are gonna be. you're different, you're not like that—i mean—that's not what i look at—what i see with you" he fumbles around for his words and groans, slamming his forehead against your shoulder. you're used to katsuki being physical, but that was usually when he was being annoying, pinching and prodding and biting at you. he's rarely ever this affectionate. it's different, but nice..really nice, so you savor it while you can. your fingers twitch a little closer to his and you decide to take a leap of faith, placing your hands ontop of his. he flinches and you're about to pull back when he grips your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. you feel him huff into your uniform. his hair tickles as he shuffles his head deeper inside your shoulder.
"you're not like those other losers, y'not like anyone" he explains "you're—when you're around it's like you're glowing. you're bright and when you talk, everyone sorta—gets pulled towards you like you're some typa magnet" his hands get warmer against yours as he speaks. you're surprised that he sees you this way, when that's practically the same way you see him.
" you pull people in so easily, and it pisses me off that you don't realise it. you are strong, and cool and everything else but that's not all you are. s'not all i care about."
"you're annoying. and whiney. extremely annoying, actually" he chuckles, and you pull at his ear "but—" he continues "but you're..fun to be around or whatever, wouldn't be around you otherwise. you're too fuckin' nice and your taste in music isn't bad" katsuki grumbles.
he wants to say more, so much more. he wants to say he thinks the way you immerse yourself when you're watching a movie together is adorable. the way you hold yourself back from commenting during the movie so as not to be annoying, even thought he could listen to you naming street signs and never get bored. the way your eyes light up when you get your grade back for a test you had studied your ass off for, when you come to him showing off your hard work it makes him want to hold you and never let go. he wants to say the way you're not scared to banter and bicker with him, the way your nose scrunches up when you try to hold in your laughter when he passes you a crudely drawn picture of your homeroom teacher, the way you smile at him whenever you see him, whenever he shares his umbrella or your lunches even though you have your own and he has his, makes him want to kiss you silly.
he wants to say all this and more, but he knows the words won't come out right, they never do. but somehow you understand and it's another thing he admires—that he loves about you.
"i...didn't know you felt that way" is all you can quietly muster up. you're cute, he feels you squeezing his hands a little tighter " yeah you didn't, cus i didn't tell you" he ribbed. you huff out a 'dont be annoying" gruffly and he chuckles. the asshole.
your asshole, though, your heart decides.
you're both quiet, everything is quiet and you're happy, reassured. you'd be happy if this is where the conversation ended but katsuki never fails to surprise you today it seemed.
" 'sides" he squeezes your hands tighter "i promised you i'd marry you didn't i ? how can i do that if i'm not around you, hah ?"
you're heart skips approximately three beats at the memory of his promise and you lean back to look at his fully red cheeks and his fleeing eyes.
"you still remember that ?" you ask incredulously. he rolls his eyes but you can tell it's simply to save face as he responds " of course i do. wasn't that long ago."
"but—we were like—ten when that happened. "
"so ?" he responds simply "doesn't change nothin'. i told you, i don't say shit to just say it."
you're flustered and so utterly confused, but there's a happy feeling bubbling in your stomach at his words " but we're not even dating !"
"we're not ?" of course not , he knows he hadn't properly asked you to be his girlfriend. but he figured if he talked about the memory that seemed to refuse being pushed aside, he could casually sneak by what he was too embarrassed to ask. but of course, you never make it easy for him.
"no, we aren't" you pout, crossing your arms at him. he grumbles, reaching to pull your arms away from your chest but you're stubborn, he was right about you being extremely annoying. "cut that out," he hissed.
"mm-mm ! " you shake your head "you can't just decide we're together. i didn't even know you liked me like that.." you trail off shyly. katsuki looks utterly baffled "hah?! whaddya mean you didn't know ? you don't see me actin' like this with anyone else do you ?"
"that's cus you're mean to everyone else !" you choked out, puffing your cheeks out at him.
"well yeah ! but—that's the thing, i'm not mean to you !" he defends, faltering when you raise a brow at him "fuck off, m'not that mean ! i'm just messing with you !" he rebutted. you simply roll your eyes at him and after a moment he sighs.
"fine" he concedes "i should've told you i liked you, i don't just decide that i want you to be my girlfriend when it's convenient for me or something" he keeps quiet about how you could of also told him you liked him as well for now, for fear of you getting moody at him again.
you still look away from him and he groans "hey c'mon, look at me." he utters sincerely. after a minute, you offer him a glance and he takes his opportunity, turning your face towards him, holding back a grin when he feels how warm your cheeks are.
"do you...wanna be my girlfriend ?" he stammers, looking at you with his red cheeks and bashful red eyes, and yet his gaze doesn't falter.
so cool.
it's your last day of middle school, your last day before you go off to a different school with different people. but with your katsuki by your side, and that's all that matters to you.
and with a bright smile, bright eyes and the summer sun slowly setting in your empty classroom, you give him your response by pressing your lips to his softly.
katsuki thinks about the night before today, when you'd knocked at his door in the dead of night.
usually, on any other day, he'd have scolded you for being up so late but would've ended up letting you in anyway. but lately, things hadn't been as they had been before..everything happened. and he could tell you were upset, so he simply let you in without a word.
you take the liberty of laying down in his bed like you used to back at his house and back at the dorms. he doesn't mind. it feels familiar, comforting.
he lies down next to you and you immediately latch onto him, seeking his warmth. with your head in his chest, you hold onto him tightly, like he'll dissapear if you don't. he clings to you just as tightly.
"what's up with you ?" he mumbles sleepily, softer than when he would've if he were more awake, but still focusing all of his attention onto you.
he feels you shake against his chest "jus' wanted to be wif you" he hears you mumbles. he presses his lips to the top of your head, pressing a sweet little kiss onto it as you breathe "you know that's bullshit." he reprimands, he feels you squeeze him tighter. he squeezes your waist twice, his warm hands running up and down your sides "c'mon, talk to me" he prodded
you look up at him and he looks down at you. your eyes are glossy, he can tell even in the dark and he's sure you were crying a little. his theory is confirmed when he hears you let out a little sniffle, his heart breaks at the sound. his heart breaks even more when you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping at the front of his shirt.
"baby," he pleads softly, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, mouth and cheeks when you whine. "tell me what's bothering you, yeah ?"
"m'just—you're gonna be fighting tomorrow, and we all are and i know you're strong but you'll be in the front lines against him" you blubbered, you hiccup as tears roll down your cheeks " and i know you're strong. but katsu, i can't—" you gasp. he shushes you softly, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips. he knows what you're gonna say, he knows you're worried. he's known you for so long after all.
he hated himself the day he woke up after the first war. when he woke up to you crying at his side, with you yourself still being injured. he hates how much he worried you that day and he knows that the fleeting glances you give him whenever you have a briefing with the pro's, the way you stare off at nothing whenever you catch a glimpse of his scars, are all out of worry for him. he did the same after he had found out you had also been heavily injured during the brawl, so he can't say he wouldn't do the same way.
"baby, babe—look at me" he intones softly, grabbing onto your tear stained cheeks to get you to look at him, he's close so he's sure you can see him despite the darkness. he can't help pressing another kiss to your lips " nothing's gonna happen, okay ?" he reassures, rubbing your cheek softly.
"i can't see you like that again, katsuki. i just can't" you whimper, leaning into his hand.
"you won't, promise you won't." he vows. he knows you're even more worried because you'll both be in different areas and he hates he won't be able to keep his eye on you. but you're strong and cool and everything else, so he trusts you'll be okay "i need you to trust me"
"i do" you sniffle, taking a deep breath "i do trust you, but i just—don't wanna see you get hurt, kacchan"
he sighs softly, staring at you lovingly as he pulls you towards his chest. you nuzzle against him and he presses his mouth to the side of your head. "i can't promise i won't be gettin' hurt, s'gonna happen on the job" he says carefully, rubbing your back "but i promise i'll always come back to you. no matter how fucked up i get, i'll win. for you." he declares, feeling you shove your head deeper against his shoulder.
you remember how despite getting extremely injured by shigaraki, he recovered in record time. it seemed nothing could stop your boyfriend from proving to the world he was the best. because katsuki fights and keeps fighting even if you think the odds are low, because he doesn't. because to him, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he'll win.
and despite the worry and the fear gnawing at you, you can't help but think your katsuki is so fucking cool.
so you nod against his shoulder and he feels the collar of his shirt grow wet, but he doesn't mind as your grip on him loosens lightly until you can feel yourself falling asleep.
before you fall though, you hear katsuki speak.
"besides, i promised you i'd marry you didn't i ?"
he feels you smile into his neck, and you give him your response by happily nodding into his shoulder with a hum.
in his final moments, katsuki thinks of you.
he thinks of the promises he's made. he thinks of the promise he made to his old hag to not cause you, such a sweet girl, too much trouble. he remembers the promise he made to his old man to stay safe while he went out on patrol and when he'd fight against shigaraki for the second time. he remembers the promise he made to himself to get his limited edition all might card signed one day. and he remembers the promise he'd made when he said he'd always, always come back to you.
and he remembers the promise he'd made to marry you. the promise that you both would be together and none of the other losers would look at you.
so when he awakens, katsuki doesn't bother to ask why or how.
he simply fights and keeps fighting, so he can win, no matter how fucked up he gets.
warnings: these links contain nsfw content which is not suitable for children along with descriptions of them, please be advised. 18+ only.
read new megumi fic: here
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔;
making out w/ gojo b4 sex:
theres nothing gojo loves more then having his sweet girl on top of him, kissing her passionately as he rubs her pretty body with her bigger hands: showing her just how much her loves him!
rough public sex w/ gojo:
he hates it when you tease him, having no other choice besides showing you whos in charge and making you writhe and shake under him just so happens to be the only way for you to get that in your pretty little head
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔;
sucking off geto in his car after a shopping trip
he swears he cant stand you... youre his pretty baby and you know that! but he just looks so good in that black compression shirt and his black jeans that you just have to tease him! dont worry, he'll handle that in the car <3
fucking with geto outside in the sun
he loves the way your ass looked in those bikini bottoms, every time he looked over and got a glimpse of you while getting some sun, he couldnt help it but to put you on his lap and make you ride him! you looked too good <33!
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎;
fucking nanami after a longg day
we all know this man hates his job... what better way to make it better than to fuck that pretty cunt of yours? he loves how tight you are, relishing in the feeling of your pussy for as long as he gets!
nanami's big ass cock stretching you out
we all know nanami has a big cock! and one thing he loves about it and the way you struggle to take him everytime and how tiny you look under him! watching the way your pussy stretches everytime he pushes himself in will always turn him on... making you guys session even longer as he's continuously hard >__<
