MY PREVIOUS USERNAME WAS chososyndrome !!! i did not steal anyone's work.
m.list | rules
fandoms i'm in: weak hero class, alice in borderland, all of us are dead, tears of themis, mystic messenger, obey me, aot, haikyuu, genshin impact, sso, jjk, arcane, marauders, harry potter, bsd, wuwa, folk of the air, powerless . . . and many more!
i also like: kpop, sylvanian families, sanrio (esp. pompompurin!), chiikawa, books (esp. fantasy & romantasy), the resident, mcr, and more!
I hate when people talk about the canon shit, we literally have a dude named hornkus binglefuck dont even start with canon lad nobody fucking cares anymore
Synopsis. A jester marrying a princess? Not even in the most terrible joke.Â
Gojo Satoru has loved you ever since the first time he made you laugh, heâs loved you since you appointed him as your personal jesterâand heâs loved you even when your royal engagement was announced.Â
But if only a prince can marry a princessâŠmaybe a jester can wreck it.
A/N. TO THE LOVELY BABYGIRLS THAT HAVE BEEN BEEEEGGING FOR THIS TROPE- and inspired by the very talented @/karolineprihodko on Tiktok <33
âA fool may sleep. A fool may sneer. A fool may ask why the princess is crying here?â
Itâs so sudden that it stops your tears.
Crouched in a small passageway near the royal court. Between the gleaming armors upon display of Gakuganji the Great and Kashimo the Fierce. For a brief moment of madness; you think you must have imagined the lilting voiceâalmost melodic. Marvelous.
Itâs one of the most beautiful things youâve ever heard - even more so than the music wafting from the open doors of court, brought by the travelling circus that your palace was entertaining.
And then youâre hearing him again.
âSob sob sobâfor my princess is a crier. Dear Gojo here, shall set Yagaâs stache on fireâ!â
That makes you finally lift your head out of your arms, with a laugh that is full-chested and unabashed. For the first time in a longâŠlong time.
âWhat might your name be?â You ask the boy with the bright blue eyes, and an even brighter smile.Â
And that was the story of how you met Gojo Satoru - when you were eight, and heâd been merely ten. Though he didnât look tenâhe mightâve looked even younger than you.Â
White hair. Winks of dimples upon each cheek. His face was chalk-white from the make-up typical of jesters, even young ones, supposedly.Â
He was drowning in a faded red and blue jester outfit that looked as if itâd been dragged through multiple shows a night. It looked far too big to have been his originally. Even through the patched-up collar, his collarbones showed, and from the too-wide sleeves; his pale, near-skeletal limbs stuck out oddly.Â
His face was pretty, however, with eyes too large for his head.Â
Gojoâs cheeks were sunken in, yet his smile wasnât the slightest bit smaller. That, too, looked too large to be his.Â
And youâŠ
Crying outside the royal court, after your parents had declared you far too young to see the travelling circus. The acrobats. The sword-swallowers. And one little jesterâŠthat had gone missing during the processions.Â
Though, in time, Gojo took delight in weaving in additional parts of fighting off dragons and two haunted knight armorsâenraptured courts that clapped and laughed as he sang of a white-haired fool and his crying princess. Heâd whisked you off your feet and made you swoon in ways a princess utterly shouldnât - and then produced you before your horrified father, His Majesty, as the sole suitor that made you laugh.Â
At least according to him.
Though one thing was true from that fairytale: Gojo had been the only person to make you laugh. The only one.
Previous jesters and palace acts wavered between confusing you with their overly long ballads, or enraging you - all because they assumed some little princess couldnât handle humor. And maybe that was why - Gojo hadnât underestimated you - that youâd gone right up to your father in the middle of a particularly splendid fire-breathing act, stood in the center of the lavish floor, and declaredâ
For Gojo to be released from the circus to become your personal jester.
As a royal jester he would be clothed, bathed, and tutored alongside you - so long as he kept you entertained with his rhymes (to which you had no doubt that he wouldnât falter).Â
Not minister nor royal guest should lay a hand on him. He was to be treated as an equal member of the court, and should have titles bestowed upon him in due timeâbut for now, he will grow up as your best friend. Your only.
And whilst declaring this in about as much royal haughtiness as you could have managed, you looked over at Gojo. You donât remember for what reason. You donât remember what you were looking for.
All you remember is that Gojoâs eyes seemed brighter in that moment, like the nightâs cloak of stars. There were tears in his eyes.
And he flashed you his crooked grin.
You grinned back.
His Majesty and the advisors didnât take long to mull over the thought before asking the circus master to name his price for the boy. And Gojo had been small then - oh-so-small - a mere waif of a boy. He was clearly the youngest amongst these adults, and the circus master hadnât even remembered he was part of the troupe.
Heâd demanded two crowns and a bag of wheat.
To which The King had obliged with a simple wave of his handâbefore freeing the other circus members, as well. He was mercifulâŠmost of the time.
And youâd been so overcome with joy that you ran to the jester and took his hands then and there.
Had it been in the little passageway where youâd met, then you might even have embraced him.
But perhaps youâd given the ministers enough conniptions for the day?
âFollow me.â You breathlessly whispered to the little jester that seemed far too shocked for words. âI shall summon the royal tailor whilst you take your bath- we have every fragrance in the land, and more than enough botanical springs.â
But the longer he stayed speechless and unmoving, the more self-conscious you grew.
Your fingers loosened around his, âThatâŠthat is if you wish to-â
âI do.â He stopped you from slipping away - he clasped your hands even tighter. Tight enough to nearly hurtâbut you didnât stop him. âI-Iâd be honored, Your Highness.â
âYou shanât have to call me that.â
And though a few eavesdropping court ladies and gentlemen gasped at the destruction of long-held social etiquette, Gojo had merely smiled and nodded. And then youâd been the one to whisk him away.Â
You.
Gojo shared little about his upbringing that first day in the palace, and even less over the years. You knew that heâd been born into an average family just a kingdom over - Gojo itself was a fairly used name - but tragedy struck and his parents both passed awayâalthough you never asked how, and he never shared why. It almostâŠseemed as if he didnât remember. A part of him that had scrubbed out most of those years, like a bloodstain.
And heâd lived in the same lifeless home as them for five days. Trying to wake them.
No one listened.
No one arrived.
No one helped.
No one helped.
No one helped.
Driven by hunger and loneliness, Gojo finally left the house after those five days. And just his fortune, he hadnât walked long before encountering the travelling circusâso many jugglers and jesters and acrobats and fire-breathers. And one master leading them from the front.Â
Heâd been both enraptured and scared.
And hungry. SoâŠso hungry.
Even the smell of the lion food was appetizing to him.Â
One acrobat passing by had spotted the boy watching wide-eyed from the side of the road, and seeing how desperate he was, shared her lunch and invited him to join. It was the biggest act of kindness heâd felt in five days.
And so he taught himself to rhyme. To joke. To smile.Â
And two years later was when you saved him- you told Gojo that it wasnât so much as saving him than him saving you. But he denied.Â
âThank you.â Gojo had whispered to you, almost fearful, during his first night in the palace. The Princessâs jester had been granted quarters right across the hallway from your own chambersâand yet, the first night was always the scariest, wasnât it?Â
Heâd given you quite the fright sneaking into your royal chamber after all the candles had been snuffed and your attendants had left. Soundless as a mouseâand looking just as unwelcome inside the gilded bedroom. But eventually, you welcomed him onto the lavish mattress far too large for even two.
Let alone two children.
Laid a fair distance apart, you faced each other.Â
âI forbid you to say those words again, Gojo.â You smiled. âAnd just for the one night, I trust?â You meant the bed-sharing; should your attendants walk upon this in the morning, then Gojo would be thrown into the dungeons faster than he can rhyme.Â
Gojo nodded, somewhat flushed. âJust for the one night.â
.
.
.
âSatoru-â
âMmmm, puff pastries and wagashi.â
âSatoru.â
âHuh? Ohhh, sweet cheesecake.â
âSatoââ The exasperated call of his name doesnât land before the kick does - square in the middle of Gojo Satoruâs broad back.Â
Sometime in the last few years, after heâd taken up training with General Yaga to keep himself fit for his dances, Gojo had started sleeping without his upper garments on.Â
And you couldnât deny that it was a sight for sore eyes; his sun-freckled sun, the dips and curves of his muscles shifting as he did. The roundness of his deltoids. The sensual curve of his spine. The patterns of his scapulae, and lash marks that he wouldnât explain. They moved like waves of an ocean, and they peaked and fell just as much. Some mornings you dared to trace every single oneâjust with your eyes, of course.Â
But of course, he was just your best friend - socially, your jester, at that.
Which is exactly why youâre kicking him off the bed the second you hear your morning attendants heading down the corridor. As soon as heâs out of sight, the double doors to your bedroom openâand theyâre floating inside with steaming-hot trays of breakfast and new fragrances for your skin.Â
One of the attendants sets the breakfast tray down on your bedside table, and you sneak him a few of the blueberry-spotted pancakes. Though have to slap Gojoâs hand away from swiping the syrup, too, before one of them sees.
âSuch a beautiful day, isnât it, Your Highness?â Your head attendant, Utahime, trills as she throws the curtains open to let soft morning sunlight flood inside. âThe perfect morning.â
âIt is.â Youâre nodding. You slap Gojoâs hand away from the syrup again.
âAnd we have no more than an hour to get you ready, Your Highness. So I beg you to finish your tea quickly.â Another attendant hands you your morning tea - just how you liked it. It smelled of something floral that reminded you of the royal gardens, and something else so utterly appetizing that you could feel Gojo huffinâ and puffing about beneath you.
Served him right for sneaking in again, you think.
You slap Gojoâs hand away again. Utahime continues speaking onwards obliviously, ââprepare for the guest.â
âA guest?â That piques your interest.Â
This time, Gojo steals the syrup. And it creates a loud clatter that draws the attention of all the attendants sweeping and scurrying about to pick out your gown for the dayâyouâre unceremoniously coughing to cover it up. Youâre not sure it works.
Utahime crinkles her nose, âNasty little ailment, isnât it?â Her intelligent eyes dip down to the bed - though she keeps it discreet. Utahime, as well as being your head attendant, was one of your closest friends as well.Â
Close to you in age, youâd hand-picked her to be what was essentially your right-hand woman.Â
And she knew of the ratherâŠclose friendship that you and Gojo had; perhaps improper for court etiquette, but just right for the two of you.Â
From underneath the bed, Gojo snickers.Â
You bounce on the mattress, whilst Utahime kicks the bed post.Â
âAhâŠthis ancient bed.â Youâre commenting once the other attendants look at you with raised brows, âHonestly, sometimes I believe it to be haunted.â
âWake up to a mysterious figure at your bedside, do you?â Utahime eyes you. You avert your gaze from hers. âWell, we should do well to rid your chambers of that before the Prince arrives, Your Highness.â
âThe Prince?â
âPrince Zenin Naoya, of course.â
Gojo knocks his head on the bed frame.Â
.
.
.
Prince Zenin Naoya possessed many titles; the latest one being the most unpleasant royal youâve ever had the displeasure of meeting.
Which was saying rather a lot.
Youâve met many a-princess that were appalling to her attendants, and many princes that boasted their numerous wars. Your father himself fell into the latter group. And many, many more dukes and duchesses and marquisâand whatever other title had surfaced over the last few centuries and gotten latched-onto with rabid, golden-ringed claws. Had it not been for your duty to maintain a peaceful political climate, you would have forgone those social gatherings altogether.
Though your father was particularly careful not to repeat the border strife that had occurred not too long ago in your kingdomâŠsome violence-seeped dispute over power.Â
And so you lifted your head and plastered a smile.
You managed to clamor through even the most painful of social obligations.
But this oneâŠthis one might just force you to rewrite all the royal rules that had been drilled into you since you were younger.Â
âIt is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.â You nod in acknowledgement as the Prince bows. His coronet was made of pure gold; a simple band with a blood-red ruby in the middle.Â
It flashed at you menacingly.
And so did his pearly-white smile.Â
âThe pleasure is all yours, Your Highness.âÂ
Youâre taken aback at his choice of words. You meet Gojoâs eyes a little ways away from the court- and his read the same confusion. He shakes his head imperceptibly. Then Naoya turns to the King seated on the throne beside you instead. His smile leers, âMy utmost gratitude for this invitation, Your Majesty. My parents send their regards.â
âGood people, good people.â Your father nods, âTheir assistance duringâŠthose times of trouble shall forever remain in my memory.â
âWho are we if not united against the face of the radicals, Your Majesty?â Naoya graciously bows once more.Â
âWell said.â And then the King makes a sweeping gesture in your direction. âAnd in the future, it seems we shall be united once more.â
Naoya throws his gaze at you again, and the way he looks at youâŠit makes you hug your arms to yourself.
Youâre unsure why your gaze had been upon Gojo at that very moment - they always did seem to find him - but you watch as his expression darkens. Darkens. Darkens. In a way youâve never seen before, and then itâs hitting youâ
âFather?â
But he ignores you, âSatoruâ!â In the years that youâve brought Gojo to court, your father had become rather fond of his rhymes and riddles as much as you were. So it wasnât exactly surprising that he had been called upon, and Gojoâs expression switches instantly into one of foolish mirth. âWhy donât you share one of your amusing rhymes with our guest?â
âAs you wish, Your Majesty.â He bows deeply. As he makes his way to the middle of the court, where Naoya and his entourage were gathered, the bells upon his blue-and-white garments jingle.Â
And before you know it, Gojo clasps onto Naoyaâs shoulders and ensnares him with his words. âNaoya oâ Naoya, with your great riches and gait.â The corners of his lips twitch - something sharp. Gojo covers his mouth in a faux-whisper, though his words reach every single corner of the vast chamber. âEvery lady here knows you take potions to compensate~â
Naoyaâs face turns green then red. A furious red.
As if fearing the Prince would swing, Gojo jumps back- just in time for the hay-blond man to whirl around. âBut oh, no potion shall make Prince Naoyaâs rooster bigâthe most you ladies get will be the size of a fig~â
The jester laughs maniacally, and so does much of the court; you yourself canât stop from letting out a startled laugh or two.Â
Your best friend never did hold back - perhaps because he was the only one allowed to do so without fearing the threat of the dungeons.Â
And Gojo watches as a giggle slips past the hand youâd brought up to cover your mouth- and his grin widens as he takes it as a challenge. Dancing around Naoya, he continuesâ
âNaoya is hated by the ladies of the court. Naoya is hated in his medical reports~â He trills gleefully, darting a hand out and knocking Naoyaâs coronet off. âAnd all the ladies and all the healers, have never seen a cock this short~â
Red face now turning almostâŠa sickly yellow, Naoya attempts to fist-fight the jester. Though Gojo was far more agile than he looked, and he was dodging each hit with ease.
âOhâhave I offended you, Your Highness? Perhaps a change of paceâŠâ Gojo crows. âFor all Naoya hates women, he might as well court men-â
âYou- youââ
âEasy, son.â Your father chuckles to himself as well, âYou should do good to familiarize yourself with the Princessâs jester if you are to marry her.â
Gojo stutters- and his rhyme pauses. His eyes widen.
You feel the red, red carpet give out beneath you.Â
.
.
.
âI simply mustâŠapologize for Sato- my jester, Your Highness.âÂ
The clinking of silverware fortunately masked the waver in your tone. It was insincere and unapologetic.
Naoya maintains an expression as if heâd just smelled something unpleasant, perhaps as if it was on his very plate. The Prince cuts into his bird with far too much force than necessary, âApology accepted.â Rather short.
Though you yourself didnât careâyou shoot a look at the ministers that were currently attempting to meld into the royal portraits on the wall.Â
With nervous smiles, they urge you to continue.
It was a poor imitation of a romantic dinner - as romantic as a political marriage could get.Â
The royal dining room had a table that sprawled nearly from one end-to-end. Polished mahogany. Intricately-carved legs. So thick that they didnât buckle under the hundreds of dishes piled on top: soups to puddings to heart-shaped wagashi to those you couldnât even name. Woven in-between were flickering candles and vases of red, red rosesâsprouting confessions of love.Â
Some of those petals were even scattered across the floor.
Though the dining room could seat about four-hundred guests, right now it only seated him and you. You and your future husband.
Your future husband.
Your future husband.
Your future husband.
It still hadnât sunk in, and you didnât want it to.
Zenin Naoya takes a bite of his roasted bird and spits it back out. From his entourage, one of the Zenin ministers darts out with a dish to collect it.
You wrinkle your nose in distaste.
Two courts were watching this fallacy of courtship.Â
From your side, it was the entirety of your court save for some of the outer ladies-in-waiting and some gents, and your parents. From his side, it was Naoyaâs entire entourage at his every beck, call, and swallow. Just waiting for the opportunity that their beloved Prince didnât like anything.
Which seemed to beâŠeverything.
You yourself can only pick at the delicacies on your plate - theyâd done well to include favorites of both you and His Highness. And yetâŠ
And yet, in the past eighteen years youâve never sat through a dinner without Gojo at your side.Â
Always at your right-hand seat. Always chomping through his dinner with overexaggerated noises that made you laugh, and the ministers grimace.
How could you feel so alone surrounded by so many people, and yet lacking one?
Youâre biting back a sigh.
âPssst.â
Confused, you look up at Naoya- but he seems just as morbidly indulgent in his food as he was before. He was spitting out even more.Â
And so you look aroundâbut none of the ministers nor advisors catch your eye, either.
âPsssssst.â
There it was again. Somewhat irritated and feeling your confusion growing - this dinner certainly hadnât put you in a good mood - youâre about to excuse yourself from this social hostage-situation. Someone must be attempting to make a fool out of you. Youâre resting your hands on the polished table and about to push offâ
When you feel somethingâŠtouch your wrist.
Youâre about to scream-
âTamper your screaming, please.âÂ
Oh, well if they asked so nicelyâŠ
Wait-
Who?
Without making too much of a spectacle, you slide your fork off the edge of the table.Â
Naoya grumbles at the metallic ringingâand muttering a dainty apology, youâre leaning down to pick it up. Or so it seems.Â
Instead, youâre crouching yourself down and lifting the tablecloth ever-so-slightly. Itâs a purple velvet, one of the finest in the land, and it opens up to reveal one of the greatest treasures this palace held. At least, in your opinion.
Gojo Satoru brings a finger up to his lips and winks. His make-up crinkling handsomely as he did so, âDo you frequent these parts?â
âI should ask the same from you.â You hiss, glancing around to make sure that no one was looking. âSatoru, what do you think youâre doing-â
âExercising my culinary skills, my princess.â And he raises up a little velvet packet in one hand, shaking it around tantalizingly. He answers your question before you can voice it, âJust a little horseshoe, just a little wool from Yagaâs sweater, and perhaps the Prince that swallows this shall be a little sweeter~â
Your jaw drops. âYou cannot be serious-â
âNever in my life have I been more serious.â Gojo replies solemnly, then with an innocent flutter of his lashes- âForgive me for not sharing, my princess. But perhaps you would favor it as well?â
âIt shanât suit my palate.â You answer firmly.
âItâs far more palatable than what I did to the wine, trust me.â Gojo smirks.
âYou rouge.â
He opens his mouth as if to say something more, but Naoyaâs tone grates through the little bubble of mirth youâd formedâin less than a minute, no less. âWife- wife.â
You and Gojo stare at one another in shock.
Wife?
One of your ministers coughs pointedly, and with a final glance at Gojo, youâre straightening in your chair. âWere you perhaps addressingâŠme, Your Highness?â And any smart man would have quickly backtracked at this opportunity to change their answer.Â
But you never claimed that Zenin Naoya was particularly smart. âMy eyes donât perceive any other woman here?â He scoffs, taking a bite of a chicken leg and then immediately spitting it outââAs for the engagement plans- eugh.â
Youâre biting back a laugh as he drags out a string - seemingly from a woolâŠsweaterâŠof Yagaâs - from his mouth and looks at his ministers in bewilderment.Â
âTh-the chef must have been in a state of pioneering.â You cough out.
Another bite he takes.
And another wad of wool he spits out.Â
You bring a hand up to your lips, âPerhaps you should wash it down with the wine, Your Highness? It had been brewed specifically for this occasion.â
And so he does - eyeing you all the while.
Naoya takes a big swig of his goblet andâshrieks as he finds half of a shoe inside.Â
One of Gojoâs very own.
That shriek is loud enough to make the walls of the dining chamber rattle; and Gojo shoots out from the side of the dining table, unable to keep his laughter in control, and dances away. âTwiddle dee, twiddle dooâNaoya coughed up a shoe~â Those double doors are still swinging as it sinks in what just happened- and your ministers and guards take a menacing step towards where the colorful intruder had disappeared.Â
You raise your hand to signal them to halt.
âThis insolentââ Naoya was spitting with fury- unable to even formulate words. His mouth is a downturned slash, and he shoves the plate off the table. It shatters vociferously.
You notice that heâs turned a little green in the way he only seemed to do when Gojo was nearby. âMy first order as King shall be to rid this incompetent kitchen-â He spits. â-and that godforsaken jester-â
Your fork clatters to the floor once again. âWhatâs wrong with Satoru?â You didnât care if you sounded rather too offended by such a question. âIs it the practical jokes? I shall request that he ceases such-â
âWhatâs wrong? Whatâs wrong?â Naoya cackles to himself. âWoman, what is there not wrong about that goddamn fool? Heâs- heâsâa fool.â
âFor that is his duty, is it not?â You narrow your eyes at him.
âI suppose.â Naoya leans back in his chair, âBut his duty is to the crown, and when I am King-â
âHis duty is to me.â Before you know it, youâre standing. Youâre breathing hard. Youâre ignoring the ministers that attempt to hold you back. âHeâs my best friâjester.â
And you repeatâŠthough you donât know whether itâs more for yourself, Naoya, or the boy with the blue eyes that was once underneath the table.
âHeâs mine.â
Those words fall like the blade of a guillotine.Â
Naoyaâs eyes were spitting fire. âHeâsâŠyours, is it?â He throws his cape back and stands, âYour HighnessâŠI fail to understand why you entangle yourself with a mere jester?â Though the sentence itself wasnât one particularly barbed, his distaste bled through every syllable.Â
âHe- he is my best friend-â
âHe is a jester.â Naoya says with a tone of finality. He pushes back, letting the chair clutter behind him- the brings up a palm to stop his ministers from righting it. âAnd a jester can never be anything to a princess. Never.â
Those footsteps of his resound louder than your heartbeat. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
On the way to making his exit, he stops before the entrance and speaks. âWe are to be engaged in six moons, and when you are my wife, I expect you to act like one.â Naoyaâs gaze is deadly as he grips the door open, âMy family earned our titles bringing down entire households- a mere jester is nothing to me.â
Another guillotine: this time, itâs the closing of the dining room doors.
âYour Highness-â
But youâre following Naoya out, and tears burn behind your eyes.
Just as luck - or perhaps fate - would have it, who else had been standing behind the doors listening to every word? None other than Gojo Satoru.Â
Though his face is downturned, and you canât make out his expression, your heart soars at the sight of him. Heâs pressed against one of the walls closest to the doors, and he clenches his fists at his sides. And youâre just about to reach out- to tell him that Naoyaâs words didnât matter- to tell him that Naoya didnât matterâ
But before you could, Gojo sharply turns to you and bows. Those bells atop his hat jingle as he does so, and he stays bowed as he asks, âThis fool begs to be dismissed, Your Highness?â
Your Highness? âYouâŠyou mayâŠâ Your brows furrow, fingers trembling towards him. âBut Satoru-â
And yet, heâs gone.
And you didnât get a single look at his expression.
You wondered what you would see. You wondered what you would be hoping to see.
But no matter what it was, you knew that all you wanted to see - whether anger or mirth or irritation - was Gojo himself.Â
Your engagement was in six moons.
.
.
.
To your dismay, Gojo Satoru was avoiding you.
You should have realized that something was off that moment after the disastrous dinnerâor perhaps when he didnât join you to sleep, or perhaps when he hadnât joined court in the following days. According to one of the palace staff, the jester was ill, but every attempt at a visit to his quarters ended up with you being rebuffed or diverted.
And how many opportunities for diversion there were.
The palace was a-flush with florists, and bakers, and candle-makers, and mask-designersâand orchestras upon orchestras practising for your engagement waltz.Â
One of those times youâd been dragged away to floral-picking for the grand engagement ball - the one that would announce your union to the entire kingdom. Another time it had been to pose for a portrait with Naoya (a particularly taxing endeavour). And another time it was to pick out the colors for your mask- this was to be an extravagant masquerade ball after all. And another time it had been to get fitted for the ballgown youâd be wearing for the nightâlike exactly right now.
This time, youâd gotten just past the guards stationed upon either side of Gojoâs chambers (both on his word, and to prevent the Princess from getting into anyâŠscandalous affairs before the engagement).
And youâd cracked open the door - ever-so-slightly - only to find that what was insideâŠmade you halt.
Gojoâs room was completely and utterly empty.
Not just of himself, but of his literature books, his shoes, his bells, his flower vases. Anything and everything that made the chamber so utterly Gojoâs, was gone. Even the braid of friendship you wove for him when you were twelve - that he kept at the very top of his jewelry box - and the flower crowns you made for him that he dried and hung from his windowsâyou made them rather often, beforeâŠNaoya.Â
He had intruded upon your idle dance between love and friendship - and you were still feeling bitter and confused as Utahime fitted you. As she wound up the hip springs of your corset- and tightened, and tightenedâ
âI just fail- hah, fail to understand.â Youâre muttering, slightly out-of-breath.
Utahime looks up from the knots of your corset, âYour Highness?â
The royal tailor had just stepped out to aid in bringing the imported silk and cloth of gold up to your bed chambers, and in the meantime your attendants were helping tighten your numerous layers underneath. Your ballgown - engagement dress, more precisely - would be fitted on top of the base linen undergarments and the crinolines.Â
Tonight, you will be engaged.
And to a man that has never made you laugh once-
âYour Highness?â Utahime repeats, snapping you out of your little reverie.
âOh- forgive me.â You nod at her in acknowledgment. âWhat I meant to say was, I just fail to understand what heâs thinking.â
She nods back - you didnât have to specify who. âIt is precisely as I have told you, Your Highness.â Utahime tightens a few more knots- knocks a few more breaths out of you. âThat olâ nuisance has not a single thought in his mind. You must not worry yourself too much about him.â
âOh, but UtahimeâŠhow can I not?â Youâre sure the flurry of other attendants surrounding you were listening in - smoothing down your layers, preparing your jewelry. But you didnât care at the moment, if you did say so yourself.Â
âI believe it is just a little ailment, Your Highness. I fear I am not blessed enough for such a thing to prove fatal to that jester-â
You gulp. âI believe Satoru may be avoiding me.â
At that, even Utahimeâs brows furrow. âPardon?â
âHis chambers have been emptied of even the flower crowns, and I havenât even the faintest glimpse of him these past few days.â Speaking these words aloud seems to make them too real. âI believe I told you of how he overheard the conversation between Naoya and I?â
Utahime nods.
âNaoya had uttered some things- balderdash, if you ask meââ Your fists threaten to clench, but two attendants were working on your nails. Another was double-checking the measurements for your mask. Mask. âYet I fear Satoru may have misconstrued some thingsâŠand I havenât laid eyes on him ever since.â
Thereâs a silence.
Her fingers finish their final knot.
And then Utahime stands to look you squarely in the eyes. âThis is Gojo Satoru we speak of, is it not?â
Slowly, unsure of where this was going, you nod.
âThen you have naught to worry about, Your Highness.â She flashes you such a beautiful smile, looking over your corset for imperfections - of course, there were none. âIt is most likely that heâs skulking about these palace walls, looking for a minister to scare or a prince to embarrass.â
Youâre letting out a soft huff of laughter.
âOr evenâŠa princess to adore.â
Your eyes widen- and youâre snapping your gaze to hers. Thereâs a knowing expression that Utahime wears - one she often gets whenever she notices Gojo hiding in your room, or watches the two of you sneak out during royal balls.Â
This one, in particular, was about to be the most crowded and convoluted yet.Â
And youâre meeting her smile, eventually. âI thank you, UtahimeâŠâ You then look down as you hear the doors of the dressing room fly open, âBut adoration cannot stop a royal engagement.â
Three sharp claps sound as the tailor gets the attention of your attendants.Â
âThat will be all, ladies. Thank you.â And his own attendants and apprentices flood the room to take over the fitting stageâUtahime squeezes your shoulder as she leaves.
Though she doesnât reach her bed chambers for a much-needed rest, as she might have wanted to. Instead, sheâs halting right outside the entrance-
âYou.â
And making sure you were occupied by the tailoring, Gojo bows dramatically. Holding his little bells so they donât jingle- âAt your service, Madam Sour-face.â
âCease it.â
âNo, I said Sour-face-â
âForget it.â Utahime could feel a migraine coming on already at the mere sight of his impish grin.Â
âSour-face Utahime with her pressure so high, one more joke and sheâll make me cry~â
Why - oh why - couldnât the universe take as kindly to her and forbid her from seeing this man, too? She continues, âFirst, enlighten me as to why youâve been giving Her Highness the cut?â
A too-innocent expression crosses his face. âPardon? I fear I have no recollection of ever-â
âI will kill you with my bare hands and feel no ounce of guilt.â
Gojo clicks his jaw shut.
âIâŠâ And itâs under the pressure of her unwavering glare that he finally cracks- letting out a deep sigh and dropping his head. âI plan to leave the palace.â
âPardon?â Even she sounds utterly shocked. âWhen-â
âTonight.â Gojo has never sounded more serious to her. âI have spent the past few days gathering my possessions, everythingâŠshe gifted me. As the ball starts tonight, I shall take my leave.â
âBut your duties-â
âI have informed His Majesty of my decision. It seems though he shall miss the rhymes, he is keen for an amicable marriage between Her Highness and Prince Naoya. A jester can be replaced, trust in a marriage cannotâespecially not one of political nature.â Utahime is almost shocked at this simple foresight, but then again- everyone always did underestimate the fool.
She watches his reaction, âAndâŠthe Princess?â
Which seems to make him flinch - as though struck. Perhaps a part of him was. ââŠI shall leave her a letter before I depart. Her Highness does not deserve to see such cowardice-â
âAnd yet you still remain.â Utahimeâs words make his blue eyes snap to hers. She crosses her arms in front of her, and lets a smug smile take over her lips. âFor what reason were you spying outside Her Highnessâs fitting, if not to see her?â
âIââ He takes a desperate step closer. âIt was simply in passing-â
âFor what reason did you empty your bedroom of the flower crowns Her Highness made especially for you? Surely they shanât prove themselves too useful on the road?â
Gojoâs eyes widened. âIâŠthe memories-â
âFor what reason have you waited until the last minute to leave? Until the last minute she shall not be yours, and yours only?â
He snarls, âShe was never mine.â
âBecause you believe the Princess does not deserve to base herself- being the lover of a fool yes?â When Gojo does not answer, she continues. âThe fool seems to believe he knows what the Princess deserves. But does the fool know what he deserves?â
Thereâs a prolonged silenceâof which is only punctured by the awed gasps from inside the dressing room, as the tailor and his apprentices comment on your beauty.
Gojo has the sudden, mad thought to open those doors just a little wider and see you for himself. Just one last time.
One last time.
What was he thinking?
He laughs to himself bitterly, âA jester can never be anything to a princess. Never.âÂ
âBut a princess can be everything to a jester, yes?â Utahime asks. âMore importantly- who are we to dictate what a person is to another person?â
The answer was as obvious as it was painful.
Gojo Satoru loved you.Â
Loves you.
Something of it must show on his face, because Utahime throws him a pitiful look sheâs never shared beforeââYou may leave if you please, I shanât stop you.â And then she reaches out and presses a hand against the doors- they part, unlocked. âBut if you wish to stay and stop acting a-foolâŠthen follow me.â
She brushes past him.
Meanwhile Gojo looks inside and catches a glimpse of you - and heâs never seen anything more beautiful.Â
He runs after Utahime, bells jingling.
.
.
.
âYou lookâŠâ
âHow odd.â
âHow startling.â
âWhat a change!â
Utahime crinkles her nose, âThe only thing this proves is that your face is more tolerable when it is covered.â She turns to the brown-haired woman next to her, âAnd that my Shoko is a goddess when it comes to handiwork.â
Shoko smiles sweetly, âI have much practice making death masks.â
âIâll say.â
As the other few attendants pendulate between laughing to themselves, and admiring Shokoâs quick work - sheâd been requested just a few hours before to make a mask befitting a royal ball, and sheâd finished it just in time - Gojo leans closer to the mirror.Â
He reaches his trembling fingers up to touch his face, âThis is surelyâŠme?â
âUnfortunately.â Utahime sighs, and she gets elbowed by Miwa.
Utahime had gathered the most trust-worthy attendants she led: Miwa, Momo, and Kugisaki from tailoring. Along with the impeccable royal healer, Shoko, who she knew would be the only one that would be able to create a mask for the ball with her expert hands. And theyâd gotten to work fixing up perhaps their most difficult case yetânone other than Gojo Satoru.
The royal jester was rather fussy at first- insisting that the powder puffs and cloth wipes tickled.Â
Before Utahime put her foot down and announced that they werenât going to present a âhalf-assedâ (forgive her language) marriage-wrecker to the Princess just yet.
That reminder of you kept him quiet for the rest of the make-over.
And Kugisaki had even commented, âPerhaps we ought to invoke the Princessâs name every time we need to keep the jester in line?â
âDo not tempt me.â Utahime had replied.Â
Gojo had shuddered.
But it really was true: he sat through the rest of the next hour or two without so much as a single rhyme or peep.Â
Not even when they told him to âpucker upâ in order to douse him in rouges and lip stains. That likely saved five years from Utahimeâs lifeâŠ
Gojo himself helped them scrub off his stark-white jesterâs make-up. The vampiric base. The teardrops of black paint. The red, red lipsâa few of his little troupe openly stared as theyâd never seen the Princessâs jester without his make-up.Â
And Gojo himself knew that he wasnât all that bad looking - he had noble features. A strong nose. A high set of cheekbones. A pert, pretty mouth that always looked to be on the verge of saying something he shouldnât.
Or, at least, that was how you described him.
You were the only person that got to see Gojo without his court-deemed make-up; and you always did say he was handsome. To which heâd always bat his long, white lashes dramatically and compose you a sappy sonnet about your eyes. He supposes he knew he was decent, butâŠhandsome?Â
He never saw it.
But these girls seemed determined to make him.
Cloudy hair. Delicate features. Blue eyes like a painting.
They replaced his make-up with something simpler. Gone was the cast of white, instead replaced by just a bit of rouge and shimmer. His pale brows were tamed and so was his hair - braided to the side using fragrant rose oils, with a few pieces falling handsomely over his face. All thanks to Momo, of course.Â
Kugisaki had dug up something from that olâ tailorâs trunkâa snow-white cloak and doublet, along with the associated tights he often made fun of. It was a suit fit for a prince.Â
And it was exactly the type of suit heâd made fun of a prince for.
But here he was now - not a single difference between him and them. Or at least physically.
Gojoâs training sessions with Yaga had kept him fit; and he fit the suit perfectly. His broad shoulders were outlined against the clean cut, and his trim waist fit snugly into those damn tightsâeven through the suit, it was obvious he was well-built, in a way those baggy jesterâs outfits never did show. Polished shoes. Silver buttons. Silver belt. Heavy silver chains and pendants that arrived with the robes.Â
He might even have passed for a battle-hardened Prince like thisâŠ
Momo helped him into his equally as white gloves - it seems they were sticking to a theme for him. All the better to help his eyes and his crown stand out.
Oh yesâŠthe girls had somehow bribed Yaga into letting them sneak down to the royal treasure. For just a few minutes.
All the spoils of war and generations of wealthâand theyâd come out with a crown.Â
It was Utahime whoâd dug this one out, deciding that that would make him stand out far more than the usual hats.Â
Made of pure silver; the design itself was rather simple, or so it seemed at first. Only when one looked closerâŠwhen one ventured furtherâŠcould you see that what seemed like a simple band was actually a wreath of silver branches and floral vines twisted into one, with sapphire-studded flowers blooming along it. One more thing had been taken from the treasury - a signet ring with a âGâ.Â
âIt felt proper.â Miwa, who had found the ring, beamed. âNames and titles are lost to time. And though I may not know what the âGâ once stood for, at least for tonight, it can mean âGojoâ, can it not?â
Gojo felt it getting slid onto his left hand, and he stares at the ring with furrowed brows.
He stares and stares.
Heâs never felt more worthy of you.
By the time they had finished, the strings of the orchestra had started playing their opening sequence - the ball was commencing.Â
Utahime turns to the rest of them, âWe have done well.â Then, ultimately, back to grumble at him. ââŠYou have done well.â
And though Gojo could make up a rhyme to rile her up, though Gojo could comment that they could have done better and bask in the ensuing chaos, though he could do his mask and his maskâ
He simply looks at each and every one and smiles. Sincerely. âThank you.â
They smile tenderly back.
The final component of his outfit for your engagement ball was the mask. Though there was no set theme, Shoko had gone above and beyond to craft his in the shape of the upper-half of a snow leopardâs face. The feline gaze. The sharp ears. The faint outline of rosettes against the white mask. It was mastery.Â
Gojo dons it and smiles to himself. He really did feel handsome, as you had always said.
His blue, blue eyes twinkle from behind the mask.
.
.
.
âYou look absolutely riveting, Your Highness.â
âI thank you.â
This was a royal ball that looked gilded. There was no other word to describe itâgilded.Â
Polished floors. A thrumming orchestra. Golden chandeliers had every single candle lit; and they crept halfway down to the ballroom floor as if gifted from the Sun itself. Just for you.Â
And that was in addition to the numerous other decorations that made even the most high-titled of guests gape in awe: the shimmering fountains that looked as if they were sprouting liquid gold, golden-dipped gardenias wreathed around the hallway, and the long table of foods were most lovely. All sorts of sweets and champagnes in honor of the union.
Guests upon guests upon guests being announced as they entered. They were dressed to impress, and there were more aristocrats gathered for this one ball than youâd seen in your entire life, perhaps.Â
Had Gojo been here with you, then you two wouldâve had the most amusing time coming up with stories for each one.Â
There was Sir Gakuganji who held a secret liking for abstract dancing, here was Lord Todo whose son had fallen in love with a thousand-year-old portrait. No one would be spared. The two of you would have tucked yourself into some alcove and watched as the lavishments flew by, and when everyone was appropriately drunk youâd sneak out to the stables or to star-gaze.Â
Your heart clenches.
SatoruâŠ
You attempt to shake your head free of him.
It most certainly was a beautiful ball. And if you imagined that this was one of no particular purpose, then you really could see it.Â
The ball was decorated to match your dress, you see.
Floor-length silk. Gold-threaded bodice.Â
Celestial layers upon layers.
Your uppermost skirts had gold dusting atop it; and they dazzled as you floated across the ballroom.Â
Your attendants had decided that going for a more simple look with the jewelry was appropriate - it would accentuate the simple gold circlet atop your head. A single sapphire embedded into the middle of it.Â
Naoya had sneered at the choice, of course. When doesnât he? But this time, he was particularly offended at the presence of a sapphire rather than the Zenin familyâs signature blood-red rubies.
You refused to make your attendants change it. You donned your cat-like mask with pride.Â
Perhaps thatâs why he seemed keen on ignoring you in favor of a group of other beautiful court ladies in attendanceâthough you honestly couldnât imagine anything different happening had the two of you been married, as well. You sighed inwardly.
Youâre nodding in acknowledgement as Prince Okkotsu Yuta nears with a man beside him.Â
He looked older - about your fatherâs age, if not a few years older. Tall. Toned - in the way of someone that had one been corded with muscle, but had since lost it to age. Bearing an ice-white beard and a row of silver medals proudly lining his chestâhe stands before you in his off-white uniform and bows. It was obvious that the man was rather handsome, drawing eyes from around the ballroom.Â
But what catches your eye the most were his eyes.
Summer-sky blue eyes.
They reminded you ofâ
âMy uncle, Michizane, Your Highness.â Yuta introduces him. âThis is his first time in the palace sinceâŠâ
Your voice drops into something hushed. âI understand.â Turning to the general, youâre half-bowing once more. âI am rejoiced to welcome you into my home, any troubles that we may have had in the past-â
âHave naught to do with the present, Your Highness.â Michizane graciously nods at you. âAnd most certainly have naught to do with the beloved princess.â
You manage a smile.
âAnd if you can excuse my being so impudentâŠit is precisely what I sought this occasion for, Your Highness.â He looks over the bustling crowd, now getting ready to waltz- and seemingly catches the eye of your father. Your father who now looked as though heâd just seen a walking dead man. âI hope to bury the misunderstandings between my family and your father, and understand what happened to my younger brother and his family. It had proved itself to be both a blessing and a curse that I had been on an excursion during those troubled times. And I seek a resolution for the sake of my inner peace, if nothing else.â
Youâre nodding in agreement. âIt is most tragic what happened. For the sake of bordersâŠnothing is worth so much. And I cannot ask for your mercy enough-â
âIt is not something I shall ever be able to forgive. But you are not at fault, dear princess.â Michizane smiles conclusively, but not unkindly.Â
âAnd yet, I have been wracked with guilt ever since.â You ultimately reply.Â
Though you hadnât met Michizane previously, you had learned that the history between your families was a long and bloody one. His family had been of a royal bloodline, of kingdoms now lost and eviscerated into neighboring ones - including yours. And you knew it was partly the fault of your kingdom. And although royal tutors justified and justified away your fatherâs actionsâyou could see past them
âPerhapsâŠâ Michizane is the one to break through your whirlwind of thoughts. He reaches his gloved hand out, a silver signet ring on his middle finger. â-a dance to commence the burying of our animosity?â
âBut of course.â
As the orchestra starts up a lively tune, Michizane whisks you away onto the dance floor. Much to the horror of some of your elderly ministers, of course, who gaped at the mere presence of the man.
And at the fact that your first dance wasnât with the Prince.
But laughter bubbles to your throat as Michizane twirls and swirls youâsways you smoothly around and around the dance floor. He was one of the best dancers youâve ever encountered, and youâre smiling appreciatively at him once the song comes to a close.
From the corner of your vision, you spot the black-and-red-clad Naoya storming his way over to you. And you hurry to beg a second dance when-
A title is announced - louder than all the rest.Â
A prince.
PrinceâŠyou donât hear the name.
But you donât need it.Â
Because youâre looking up at the grand staircase from which guests made their entrance, hand-in-hand with their partners or followed by their entourages. This one had neither. This one was one of the most beautiful men you think youâve ever seen.
He looked like something from a story.
Snow-white mask. Snow-white suit. He was tall and clearly toned - but there was something in his demeanor that made him seem almostâŠdainty. He gripped the balustrade of the landing and looked over the glistening ball- barely even breathing, it seemed like. And he looked content to remain there in awe, before the chief butler reading out the named coughs- pointedly.
The man startles.
He looks over at the chief butler, and then nods jerkily to himself. In self-assurance.
Cautiously, he makes his way down to the ball.
And the closer he gets, the more of his details youâre taking in: like the traces of signature silver on his suit, and the way his fingers trembled ever-so-slightly.Â
He looked just like the princes youâd read about in fairytales - the ones you imagined as a child before you happened to meet a real-life prince.Â
Curls of white could be seen behind that snow leopard mask of his. They contrasted oh-so-beautifully with the blue, blue sapphire atop his crown.
Just like his eyes.
Your breath hitches-
âI believe I may have been monopolizing you, Your Highness.â Michizane whispers as the Prince nears.Â
âPardon?â You look at him- but he merely smiles.
Before you know it, the mysterious guest has neared enough to give the two of you a jerky bow. His tone tremors ever-so-slightly as he asks, âP-permission for the next dance, Your Highness?â
Michizane nods at you reassuringly.Â
âI would be delighted.â You breathe, and then heâs taking your hand in hisâgently. A touch even softer than the fabric of his tender, tender gloves.Â
âI bid you a good evening, Your Highnesses.â Michizane tips his hat, âAnd do take care of the lovely princessâŠâ Before turning to the younger manâŠhis brows furrow the longer he looks-
But a lady-in-waiting taps Michizaneâs arm for a danceâand heâs made to turn away.Â
And youâre left alone.
With him.
Naoya stuck with some other lady-in-waiting as you put your handâŠtentatively on the other manâs right shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath, as if your mere touch was replenishing his soulâand he doesnât move away. Then you let your second hand get grasped - gently - in his own.Â
Backward with your right foot.
Sideways with your left foot.
Backwards.
Sideways.
Backwards.
Sideways.Â
Itâs halfway into the song, pressed closed to his thundering chest, that you finally break the silence. âThe crown suits youâŠSatoru.â
Gojo flinches, âYou discovered-â
âYou did not seriously think you could fool me?â You smile. He mirrors it- albeit sheepishly. âGojo Satoru, how could I possibly be gulled? You have been my dearest friend since I was eight-â
He twirls you in the middle of the ballroom.
And you continue. â-and the one I hold closest to heart.â Looking deep into his blue, blue eyes.
Gojo sighs, âWords cannot describe how beautiful you are, my princess. The least this fool can do is but dress to impress.â
âYou look particularly dashing this evening as well, Satoru. You always do.â Surprise makes his lips partâand youâre leaning in. Though they do not touch, you hear gasps from the onlookers. âYou look like a Prince.â
âAnd you look like my dreams.â
The two of you dance for a second song, and a third, and a fourth. Without letting Naoya gain any entryway between you two - that non-existent space - you two dance the night awayâdizzy with nothing but the proximity.
The realization that you could be soâŠclose as long as no one found out. That you couldnât be closer.
That you could.
That you needed to.
By the time that most of the guests had well and thoroughly indulged themselves in the bubbling champagne and wine, the clock had struck midnightâand you and Gojo disappear into the night once no oneâs looking. Through the small passageway where the two of you had first met, then up a few flights of staircases, breathless and giddy, youâre lucky there were no guards stationed outside your bed chambers as the ball raged on.
And youâre opening the door and falling into the vast bed with him.
Your hands on his lapels. His hands on your waist.
Youâre both letting out synchronized grunts as your back hits the springy mattress, and Gojoâs letting out a scorching breath that fans your face. That sets your skin searing.
âWe ought not toâŠâ You whisper- and then youâre pressing your lips down his neck. Illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the windows.
âI am of the same thought.â He responds, in an equally hushed tone - as if anything louder would shatter this fragile dream. It most certainly must be a dream, yes? This was all youâve ever wanted- and him. âAnd yetââ
And yet, Gojo places a hand on the back of your neck, and guides your mouth to his.Â
He kisses you loooong and deep- and inexperienced. You both are.
Youâre chuckling as you tug his lips open with yours - letting Gojoâs sultry tongue slide inside your wet cavern. He drags his tastebuds inside and moansâ
And after kissing you and kissing you as if starved for eonsâ
Until your lips were buzzing.
Until his hot hips were crushing into yours.
âyou let your fingers fall to his silver buttons. Rapidly undoing them.
âMy princess.â The jester wrenches deep from his chest - guttural and gone. There was a crazed hint in his tone already. âAllow meâŠâ
And before you know it, he guides your hips to rest back on the king-sized mattress. Sapphire eyes boring deeply into yours- Gojo hands you his crown to hold, as he hovers himself down and unravels the first few layers of your gown.Â
His fingers are quick- nimble.
And it takes him far shorter an amount of time to rid you down to your undergarments than it takes your careful attendants. Desperate. Depraved. Soon enough, youâre feeling goosebumps prickle across your skin at the bite of cold midnight air; your chemise and undergarments were much too thin.
And soaked.Â
Utterly, utterly soaked.Â
But Gojoâs face flushes - almost hard enough to warm your skin through sheer proximity. He admires your sopping cunt through your panties, he leans down and presses his nose right where your clit would be. And then he sniffsâ
âFuck.â
He almost jolts. Reaching in and tearing through your undergarments with his teeth.Â
âFuh-fuck.â
The noise that expels from him is almost unbidden- and its primal tone is enough to make your toes curl. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, he stares at your swollen folds. He stares at your glossy slit.Â
He stares and stares as slick beads out of you in a pretty streamâand before Gojoâs own mind seems to register, heâs muffling a hot moan between your naked legs. Immediately shoving himself nose-deep.
His chin thwacks! the top of your sopping slit, and his tongue wastes no time darting inwards.Â
Your entrance is so wet that he has no trouble easinâ his thick muscle inside- despite its impressive girth. And then immediately zig-zagging his sensual inches fucking inâaaaaaaall along your walls and driving the curvaceous tip of his tongue into every little ridge and cranny. Fat. Trembling with need.Â
âYes, my princess.â Gojoâs managing between husky breaths- each scorched out against where you were most sensitive. âYes, my princess-â
âS-Satoruââ Your handâs reaching down to twist your fingers into his snow-white locks.Â
Youâre giving him a particularly hard pull and he groans-
âMy princessâŠâ That ocean gaze of his is half-lidded and hypnotized, flickering right up to bore into your eyes as he gluttonously propels his tongue even deeper. âI cannot live if I do not make you mine.â
Your feet plant on either side of his shoulders- a steadfast pedestal. For you to buck your hips and shove your drivelling cunt against his mouth, âThen what deters you, jester?â
Gojoâs chuckle is dark and deepened with lust. âNothing, Your Highness.â
Heâs moving his tongue in and out of your hole at such a frenzy.Â
This was the night of your royal engagement, and youâre here getting eaten out by your jesterâ
âDoes it vex you that this lowborn jester has finally gotten his hands on the princessâs pretty pussy?â He gurgles out into your arching core, the wads of your sap slipping between his lipsâand then back out as he licks. âPerhaps not youâŠbut surely those godforsaken ministers that must have hoped for a moreâŠroyal touchâŠ.â
And licks and licks and licksââY-you keep running that mouth, Sato-â
âJester, remember?â He grins. âPray tell, Your Highness, am I the first?â
He must know the answer. He surely must- heâs been at your side for the past eighteen yearsâŠand you yourself were aware that you were his first, too.Â
Yet you find your lips moving before your mind does. And you whimper, âY-yesâŠâ
âPardon, my princess?â
âYes-â
Gojo drags the doughy patches of his fingertips across your clit.
âThen you grant this lowly fool the deepest and most precious honor.â
It was an honor.Â
An honor to eat your pretty coreâto press his puckered lips against your folds in such a sensual kiss- one that would make even the most scandalous of court ladies faint. To part those tender pussylips and dive his tongue inside- every single inch that thrusts away at a vigorous pace. Stuffing you from the hilt of his tastebuds, to that flexible tip that swirled to nâ fro-Â
Gojo had his face pressed up so closely - so deeeeep - that parts of his features were rubbinâ red. Covered in slick. Dripping with it.Â
And yet he was only scouring deeper- deeper- fucking deeper until your pelvis was crushed against his hungry maw. Crushed. âAnd this fool is grateful- so very, utterly grateful.â His tastebuds were going in nearly till those sweetened soft spots you loved so much in those solitary moments in the privacy of your baths, yet he flares his tongue till heâs stretchinâ you out even more. âI shall do anything for you, my princess- anythingâI live to serve you-â
Gojoâs honed canines nip at your clit.
âAnd this pussy.â
And serving you, he is.Â
With every fibre of his being. With every part of him that could reach youâheâs eating you out like such an animal, as if he was going fucking frenzied on your cunt.Â
The tip of his nose massaging your clit. That left hand of his fastening to your waist and dragging you right back nâ forth even deeper.Â
âAnd th-this fool deserves not such a privilege-â He whispers, mostly to himself. Though his wide, lust-glazed eyes maintain contact with yours, âThis fool deserves nothing. And yetâŠyet, I care not if they happened to enter this chamber right now- I would gladly get thrown in the gallows for this greed, for a second taste.âÂ
Wide-eyed - almost crazed - he tugs his wet tongue uuuuup the middle of your slit, and almost up to your navel. âIn fact, I beg of it.â
And his other handâŠ
Oh, Gojoâs other set of fingers smear the puddle of slick that spreads from your core- all along your inner thighs and making its way down your calves. He collects it all.
Every single drop.
And then, like the most precious of mead, he brings those wettened fingertips up to his mouth and sucks. Savors. Gojoâs eyes flutter closed and his Adamâs apple bobs with ecstasy - âShe tastes like she yearns for more.âÂ
âI speak seven languages, Your Highness.â Gojo replies, âOne of which is pussyââ Then with his flattened tongue, he laps up the rest of the satiny ribbons escaping you- before flicking his eyes to the mountain of pillows piled behind you. âMy princess, might I request that you procure a little treasure I have left underneath your favorite pillow?â
âA little treasureâŠ?â Almost dazed, you reach underneath and your fist closes around something soft and bell-decorated. One of his jesterâs hats.Â
âA long, long night beside the princess left this poor fool forgettingâthe hat bestowed upon me by the princess, I should be getting~â Gojo trills- whilst he still lavishes his heated, horny lips across your swollen cunt. âBut if the princess puts it upon my head, she can be as pushy- as she wishes as I eat this royal pussy~â
Your jester is speaking rhymes between your legs?
âOh, sometimes your mouth is overworked.â Youâre harrumphing at the overjoyed jester - once youâre unceremoniously dumping the cap nâ bell onto Gojoâs head.
Grinning, he bites down on the expensive tip of his right glove and tugs it off.Â
He makes quick work fastening that behind his ears, before nudging your hands to grasp onto the floppy âearsâ on top. Your sole source of balance as he leans in and eases one of his long fingers inside- then twoâthen teasinâ a third.
As he shovels in oblong inches into your sopping cunt, pushinâ apart your tender folds and letting his padded tips find their way inside. And inside.
In and out.
âPlease-â You breathe heavily as he quickens the pace after a few squelching thrusts. His middle finger was the longest, and it was spreading you apart the deepestâfuck, it was just so soft inside. So welcoming. So tight that you were clenchinâ around him almost hard enough to make his poor digits snap- and the mere thought makes Gojo hard enough in his trousers that he wants to cream them right away-
Youâre clamoring onto your elbows suddenly, âY-you cannot be serious, SatoruâŠâ
Oh, had he said that out loud? It seems heâd said that out loud. And yet, without even a hint of regret in his grin- Gojo hums. âA jester shanât ever lie to his princess.â Those kiss-bitten lips of his purse with a wad of spittle that lands gently between your pussylips, âOr his pussy.â
âYour pussy?â You ask- before the breathâs suddenly knocked out of you as he starts driving a third finger in this time. Properly.
Stretching you out to the maaaaaximum.Â
The globular ends of his fingers edging in, in, inâhe doesnât just remain pistoning them vertically. Gojoâs rude in the sense that heâs hooking them right below where you needed him the most.
Throbbing, thumping; your g-spot was most certainly aching for him.
But that was exactly the problem- and Gojoâs smile grows wicked as he keeps thrusting his three fingers into your cunt. âJ-just the slightest bitâŠfuck, to the left, jester.â
âIf the princess may still utter a sentence, then this poor jester must go harder on her entrance~â He croons. Swabbinâ into every good spot except for that one - your favorite - he suckles on your sensitive nub. âWhat deters you from claiming what you seek, hm? Use me, Your Highness.â
Your teary eyes snap open. When had you even closed them? âUse?â
âUse me.â Less of a demand- more of a live-saving plea. Gojo was so far gone by this point that his hardened hips were ruttinâ against the luxurious mattress with every swipe of his tongue, âClaim what you wish. Use me- use meââ
And as he wishes, youâre lightly tugging on the points of his jester hat to keep him pressed against you-
But that wasnât enough for him.
âI beg of youâthis lowly fool begsâŠâ As his right hand shapes out the tight, tight channel of your cunt - Gojo reaches his other hand up to grasp your own- to make you clutch his cap nâ bells even tighter. Hard enough for his fingernails to leave marks- and he needs you to be just as rough. âFucking use me like the princess you are. The princess that saved me.âÂ
He ruts even more suddenly- he must be painfully hard now.Â
âClaim my lips. Claim my tongue- claim every fibre of my being to be used by youâŠâ A low snarl snatches from the back of his throat. â-just claim me as yours, as I have claimed you, my princess.â
And then youâre knocking that stupid little hat off his head- and fisting your hands in his hair once more to crush Gojoâs pretty, pink lips against your cunt. Arching off the mattress, you were just bucking and bucking your treacly pussy all over his face.
Stringing yourself through the shockwaves of pleasure that kept pouring up your legs - like warm water. Gojo was just salivating in-between them.
He doesnât even have the time to breatheâand youâre getting the distinct feeling that he didnât want to. Couldnât even make himself think of anything else but dragging four - now four - fingers between those swollen-shut lips and thud-thud-thudding into your g-spot. âGood princess.â He hisses between clenched teeth, âGooooood princess-â
âKeep quiet, jester.â Youâre feeling yourself get slowly overcome by primal desperation.Â
âAs you wish, mistress~â And Gojoâs never been happier- lashing and lashing those ridged tastebuds inside until your walls buzzed with the texture. âMmmm.â
And soon enough, youâre feeling your legs start to twitch- in the way they did whenever you had your fingers stuffed deep in the baths- âOh.â By this point, Gojo was aiming to intrude four fingers and his slippery tongue between your pussylips.Â
Swirlinâ and swirlinâ itâtap-tap-tapping it over that first tight ring of muscle.Â
His greed sickened you- and made you even wetter. And with a forceful tug of those angelic strands of his, youâre staring deep into Gojoâs eyes - fluttering desperately as he fights not to detach himself with your wet pussy. He doesnât.
And heâs accelerating his fingers hitting the bullseyeâ
âI-I feel I shanât last very long, Sato- jester.â Youâre hissing, eyes threatening to shut as the white-hot pleasure keeps wracking through you.
With his spit-glossed lips wrapped around your clit, he hums. âMmm?â
âOh.â You hunch into him. âRepeat that.â
âMmmmmââ Gojo elongates his nearly-feline rumbles, and then his lips quirk up- into a grin you recognize as being a signature of when he gets a devious idea.Â
One sure to ruin courts and leave you amused - though youâre sure that youâre the sole one being ruined right now.Â
Heâs nuzzling his face ever-deeper against your cunt, then muffles out an entire sentence - what you assume to be a rhyme - whilst he keeps his mouth sucklinâ on your clit. Making the sensitive bursts of pleasure explode twofold behind your eyes- youâre seeing stars as he repeats itâagain, and again, and again and again and againâ
Gojo often did love repeating a joke if it managed to make you laugh exceptionally hard.
However, now you were all but crying out for mercy. Your chin trembles as you keen out Gojoâs name in a lingering echo, âI-I really shanât- ohâŠâ No matter how many years of royal diction or elocution youâve endured, it couldnât mask the way your voice cracks on the tail end of your sentence.Â
Almost pathetically so.
And soon enough, Gojoâs finding his witty mouth stuffed full- fucking you through your high.
Tongue flicking in and out. Teeth grazing over your clit.Â
He alternates between letting his tastebuds enter your pussy as wellâand then letting his doughy digit take over as he suckles on your clit. Like the sweetest thing in the world. âMmmm.â Repeating his little rhymes over and over- interrupted only by the noisy slurps! of him sucking on your nub- and the embarrassing little whimpers as he was wrenched by you.
Side-to-side. Up and down.
Youâre moving him wheeeeeerever you wanted- and he was in heaven as pain sears from his scalp.
You grip onto his braid, and another lock of his hair, as handlebars to prolong your wave of pleasure. The bliss stabs through you white-hot as he presses deeeep into your g-spot. âI havenât felt anything like this- hah, before, SatoruâŠâ
âYour jester aims to please.â
Your orgasm makes you shiver. It rattles past your walls - where the pounding was most prevalent - and then up your spine to make your head pound with pleasureâthe curling of your toes, the fluttering of your lashes, the way youâre letting escape the sweetest soft moans; sweeter than any orchestra downstairs. Gojo memorizes it all.Â
Through peak after peak.
Through thrust after thrust.
And as the crescendo comes to a close, he parts with your pussyâa pointed squelch! emanates from the connection. âThough the back of this Princessâs pussy I did knock, Her Royal Highness still yearns for the jesterâs cock~â
Your mouth gapes, âDo not tell me that was the rhyme you have been repeating this entire time?â
âAs you wish, I shanât.â He grins. And then Gojoâs raising himself to his haunches- shrugging off his cloaks and his coats. âPerhaps another? From all the princes and lords to pick, our beloved Princess yearned for the jesterâs di-â
âAnother word and you shall be turned out.â You warn him, albeit half-heartedly.
âNow that doesnât rhyme, Your Highness.â Gojo faux-pouts. With a few more tugs and pulls - he really didnât understand how you aristocrats wore this on every occasion - heâs ridding himself of his upper garments and his trousers.Â
Though youâve seen the royal jester shirtless time and time again, his perfectly-toned body made your eyes bulge.Â
And then finally the linen undergarments that presented himâGojo Satoruâs long cock, hot and rock-hard.
He was engorged till he looked fit to burst - with his mushroom-curved tip blushinâ an angry red, and his veins popping out down his shaft. So prominent that you could almost count every throb-throb-throb!
Gojoâs tip glistens wetly with precum, capping the top of his cock and just oozing like a lacquer down every inch. Almost eight inches, if youâre mentally counting correctly.Â
He wraps a single hand around his thickened base- rustling the soft curls decorating his pelvis. Spreading out in an alluring patternâGojo then uses his other hand to nudge your thighs apart. Hamstrings stretching. Toes curling. Making sure theyâre pinned to the springy mattress before he inches his red-hot cock closer.Â
Thereâs a resounding squeeeeelch! as he smears the very first, readied inch down your opening crevice.Â
âEasy there, Your Highness.â Gojoâs breath hatches with a moan. âEasy- hahâŠâ
âI am no steed, Satoru.â
âYou speak the truth, my princess.â He shoots you a ravishing smile- hungry. He really did look ready to eat you. Ready to shovel his entire length in.
Ready to breakâhimself. Fuck.
He was breaking himself.Â
A mere few inches are entering past that first ring of muscle-
And youâre arching your back into his chiselled chest. âOh h-heavensâŠâ It leaves you and mixes with the broken grunts nâ gruffs that were leaving Gojo just as equally, just as desperately, as he keeps your hips pushed into the bed and siiiiinks his cylindrical length inside.Â
Itâs like nothing your royal tutors had lectured you upon - down to the fact that all those awkward anatomical lessons were for your wedding night with a prince, no less.Â
You feel a pearl of red escape youâand you embrace him with weakened limbs. âSatoru-â
âH-heaven is correct.â Gojo hiccups out. Was he still stuck on that youâd uttered earlier- had he even heard anything more? And were thereâŠtears twinkling at the edges of his lashes?Â
Before you can finalize an answer, youâre mewling at the slight resistance of your cunt. Gojoâs cock was oh-so-girthyâmore than you might have expected, and seemed to be throbbing even bigger with every second he was mazinâ himself inside you.
And he feels the shift immediately- heâs affected by it immediately.
His handsome jaw grits. His chest caves with a sudden groan. He turns his half-lidded eyes downwards, and using both overlarge hands he grips each of your asscheeks.Â
Those pretty, princely features of his twist into something agonized- as Gojo arches his sculptured back and drives his cock inside. âPlease-â Your best friend pants out. âPlease, please, please, pleaseâh-havenât I served you well, Your Highness?â
âYou would be correctâŠ?â Youâre answering him- head foggy because of the sudden flurry of semi-thrusts.
In and out. In and out. He was buried just a few inches past his sensitive slit - and the small tremors of your cunt meant that he was thrown to ecstacy every few split-seconds.Â
Gojo seemed to be growing longer than you remembered seeing him.
Gojo seemed to be pulsing even thicker-
âTh-thenâŠshanât this lowly fool be rewarded with a single inchâŠ?â He mumbles- sounding utterly drunk. And it wasnât just his slurring tone and his tapering sentences that gave you that impression - but Gojo had his face pressed into the crook of your neck, and his hot tongue gliiiiiding up your sweaty neck. âA mere inch, my princess-â
You buck- and even that seemed far too much for the pussydrunken jester.
For heâs digging his crescent-shaped nails into your soft flesh and dragging you back into him - hitting his hips with a resounding thwack! âNo- no, please donât leave, Your Highness.â He begsâfucking begs.Â
âI-I am notâoh.â Another blustering thrust that leaves your deepest innards probed.
âIf you wish me to cease- then just say the word. And I shall heed every syllable.â Gojo murmurs, his sapphire eyes threatening to shut with the hypnotic squeeze. With his pure need. With the urge to feel himself from the outside- and considering how big he was, heâs sure heâd manage to. âBut please- please, do not leave me. Th-this pussy has been my deepest, darkest desire ever for f-far too long.â
Your eyes widen, âHow longâŠexactly?â
Those plump, rose-pink lips of his graze yours as soft as a feather. âEver since I knew what it wasâŠand I woke up with quite the ah- rock-hard situation. I had never left your chamber faster, Your Highness- what if the attendants witnessed it?â
You moan as one of his hands lifts off your ass to thumb aside your sultry pussylips. Lovingly full.
âWhat if they were aware how feverishly I desired you?â
They were just glued with sap- it makes him break off a moan.
âWhat if- hngh, what if they could see through meâa lowborn mutt- eager to dirty the precious princess?â
Gojo stares so long and lovingly at your slightly-ajar cuntâso lovingly, that his mouth ends up watering. He continues, âTo dirty youâŠto corrupt you.â A stream of spittle leaks from the corner of his lips, and it ends up dapplinâ over your folds.Â
âTo- hah, fuck you.â
Your jester roves his hips closer - smearing the translucent liquid using his hips. Aaaaaaall over as he nudges and nudges his rounded, reddened tip deeper inside - taking over your cunt little by little.Â
Stars flash behind your eyelids, and in that opportunity, Gojo had reached over to take the crown that heâd donned for the ball. Your engagement ball. And he was promptly caressing the top of your scalp with it, placing it atop your beautiful headâyou suited his colors.Â
Gojo lets out something that sounded more like a prayer: âTo fuck you with the crown on, has always been this foolâs most embarrassing wish.â
Heâs finally bottoming out.
Finally. And itâs a sensation like none other.Â
Gojoâs cock was stretching you out in ways youâve never felt before; managing to mold your channel to his measurements. And his hammers were just so sensualâslow, semi-thrusts so that he can fit himself inside. âPlease-â Inside and inside. âPlease, please- this lowly jester knows every secret and preference of yours, my princess.â
Your heels are digging into the gorgeous dimples at the base of his spine. âYes, ohâŠâ
âEvery- single- inchââ And youâre being propelled in short jerks upwards- those ancient royal bedsprings protesting. As much as you were begging for more. Your hands drag down his creamy-white back, leaving bloodied marks- and that only leaves him pulsating even harder inside you. Gojoâs blossomed tip had contentedly filled you up till your cervix - âIn ways those ministers would- hah, wring my neck over.â
âI would never let them.â Youâre spitting out.
âAnd yetâŠâ Gojo leans down to whisper. âThat only made this fool yearn for it- more-â A few more pressurized thrusts, and every prominent vein of his massages your spots oh-so-perfectly. As he pushes nâ pushes he continues babbling, âPlease let it fit inside-â His lips tremble with a whimper. âPlease let it fit insideââ
Shock strangles your words, âS-Satoru, youâre already inside.â
âP-pardon?â He almost stutters his hips - before he likely realized that your syrupy-sweet cunt was far too heavenly for him to merely linger. And heâs thrusting away like an animal.Â
Nodding, âSatoru, I promiseââ Eyes scrunching together at the incredible sensations of him stretchinâ you out, hitting into your every nook, letting his velvety tip glide across your tenderest area - that g-spot. âYouâve succeeded your fantasy.â Your legs tighten around his slender waist, âPromise.â
Gojoâs chin hits his chest.
And heâs staring down at where the two of you glossily connectââO-ohâŠâ Gojoâs mouth looked so delicious like this - you almost wanted to bite him - as an expression of cute surprise takes over him.
And all of a sudden, itâs as if heâs simply meltingâŠ
Into your arms. Into your cunt. Gojoâs honey-dipped tip probes into your cervix, and instead of even ramming away - heâs merely draaaaagging and swirlinâ the bulbous edge of him around. Again and agaaaaain. The texture of his flared ridge was something incredible, and it knocks nâ grinds against hidden spots of nerves. âI finally have you, Your Highness.â
Youâre feeling your heart pound at his confession - oh-so-tender. Even when he was fucking you deep into the plush mattress.
âYou have never not, my jester.â Youâre admitting back up at him.
The most beautiful smile graces his face- and Gojoâs feeling quite unfairly about all this. So heâs slitherinâ his right hand between your legs and spankinâ your neglected clit.
Those slight brushes of his bushy happy trail werenât enoughânow he was twiddling and turning such dizzying patterns atop that sweet, sweet nub. Watching your every minute expression, he hums. âBeautiful through anger, happiness and shock, yet the Princess looks prettiest on my cock~â
âYou fiend.â Youâre swatting his chest.
Only for him to gather up those weak legs of yours and bend you into a mating press- a mating press. Muscular thighs against your thighs. Your knees against your tits.
Gojo keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he drills away, âThough this lowly fool may be poor with the manners of a pig, arenât you happy to have a cock thatâs actually big~?â
And thatâŠyou have to admit that that one actually draws a laugh out of you.
And just as soon as the bubbling noise emerges from your lips-Â
Gojoâs body seems to collapse. His hips seem to falter. His cock thunks at the back of your womb, sending your teeth chattering, and lets out a throb-throb so hard that you feel it louder than your own heartbeat.
Your eyes shoot open, âS-SatoruâŠ?â
âI-I am quite alright, Your Highness. Naught to worry about.â Though there was something thoughtful behind his eyes, âIt is simplyâŠâ
And only after a few more thrustsâafter a few more rub-a-dubs of his thumbâŠfingers now so jittery on your cunt that heâs teasinâ you with his silver signet ring, too.
The smooth metal makes you keen-
âFor all the horses and all the men, could not pull the fool out of his princess again.â He near-tentatively utters. It could be heard only slightly above the smacking of skin-on-skin, of his hips practically plastered onto yours, and you canât help it - youâre startled into a laugh.
âP-pardon?â You speak through both moan nâ giggles.Â
âOhâŠâ Meanwhile, Gojo was absolutely shattering. He was drooling. He wasâfuck, he was tearing up. And great globules of tears were hitting the edge of your shoulder.
Gojoâs rubbinâ himself raw- heâs wracking his brain a mile a minute just for a new verse to come up with.Â
Something that will make you laugh.
Something that will make you squeeze your tremoring thighs âround him.Â
Something that will make you clenchâand itâs such a startling, tight sensation that damn-near sends him hurtling straight into his high. But he canât cum before you - of course, he canât. What good jester possibly ever could? Before his princess no less?
Gojo accelerates his hips until tears start clinging onto his long lashes, and his cocktip starts twitchinâ out of pure oversensitivity.
And so he keeps on repeatingârhyme after rhyme, botched whimper after whimper. Each one more ragged than the last. Your jester was making you whine with laughter as he fucked you- whispering in your ear in aaaaaall the dirty ways one perhaps shouldnât to a princess.
He fucks you like an animal.Â
Itâs the final note youâre hearing - ââno prettier princess than thee.â - as your sudden high takes you by surprise. Legs shaking. Back arching. Youâre squeezing him tighter than ever as the white-hot pleasure courses through you.
Thrumming your every vessel and vein.
Thrusted deeper into you with every one of his- they seem to burst pretty fireworks inside your now-emptied head. Nothing but lust inside it.
And it doesnât take much for Gojo to topple into his orgasm, as well. He shakes- he stuttersâŠâC-cummingâŠâ Breathlessly. Large tears were puddlinâ at the crook of your neck, dampening your skin more than your perspiration. âAnd I cannot think of a more appropriate home.â
âShould you sire an heir, they shall have your head.â Youâre whispering to him - a smile on your face.
âBut you forevermore have my heart.â
âRake.â
âFor you only, my princess.â
That bawling divot atop his shaft keeps floodinâ out a constant stream of cumâhot-white and lacquering your insides. Every single burst of cum made him twitch- letting out the prettiest erotic whines. âMy princessâsolely for you.âÂ
âMore.â You murmur gutturally. âMore- more.â
âMoreâŠdeep inside.â Lovingly, heâs patting at your bloated pussy. âJust for my princess.â
Until your walls were almost heavy with the condensation of his sap, and after only a few thrusts of his shaft- it was pouring out of you almost like a waterfall.Â
Between the crevice of your puffy pussylips, you feel it drip-drip-dripping out of you. Eventually formulating a little froth of creamy white âround Gojoâs swollen base - a few globules that heâs smearing with a thumb and pushing right back into you. A thumb stuck right between your folds. âA-and where do you believe you are putting your hands, Satoru?â
âSimply giving my princess everything she deservesâŠâ He leans down to nibble on your soft ear lobe. âAnd right on her engagement night, as well.â
Youâre moaning as he tugs on your clit a few more times.
âHappy engagement, Your Highness.â The jester speaks, as he fucks his cum into you harder than ever.Â
You end up babbling for a few minutes longer, before the sudden sparks of your high start bating- and Gojo himself starts finally slowing his hips down.Â
âMmmmâŠâ You reach up and clasp him by the back of his neck, sweaty, with his hair curled at the name. You whisper into his mouth, âMy greatest pleasure, to be engaged to you, Prince Gojo Satoru.â
Thereâs a long stretch of silence - still thrusting - before he mutters.Â
âI really do wish I could marry youâŠâ Summer sky-blue eyes shuttering into the kissâ
âSatoru.â
ââmy princess.â
.
.
.
âZenin Naoya.â
The young man whirls around - and his nose crinkles in distaste as an older man enters the royal guestsâ quarters.Â
No union had been announced.
The engagement ball had long since ended, and you had even long since disappeared with some prince- some jester, as he had discovered through ballroom gossip.Â
The fucking jester.
Naoya knew he should have gutted him after that dinner.
But alas, once he arrived outside your royal bed chambers to finish off the job- heâd been blocked by your personal guards from entering. That damned General Yaga had threatened that a single step closer could constitute an attempt at treason- treason?Â
Accusing him of treason? Did he not know who Naoya was?
General Yaga hadnât budged. And thus, Naoya had no choice left but to retire to his own guestâs quarters.Â
Alone and angry until morning arrived.Â
He had just settled with the thought of enacting his own taste of justice today- he shall lure some of the ministers to your bed chambers, perhaps falsifying an ailment youâd befallen under, before Gojo can escape. And once they discover that that lowborn jester had sullied the Princess- dungeons it is for the fool.
And oh-so-generous Prince Zenin Naoya shall agree to marry even a ruined maiden.Â
Then comes the crown. Then the titles, the land, the power.
The woman shanât be too bothersome, either, at least you were easy on the eyes. Even if the jester had gotten his hands on you first.
And ahâŠperhaps he shall throw out this court and your father along with it? Thatâs if he was in a good mood - and it was the original plan, after allâŠ
Or perhaps he shall stage a coup of which your father had âledâ and enact justice as King- yesâŠa royal hanging should seem righteous enough. The jester shall be first.Â
This was justice.Â
Naoya had just been in the middle of writing a letter to inform his father of this change of plans, when a knock-knock-knock thundered from the door. The broad, bearded man on the other side of it hadnât waited for him to answer before coming inside.Â
âMay IâŠhelp you?â He stands. Had this seemed like any old guard or minister, then Naoya would not have hesitated to draw his sword- but this was clearly someone of high status. Of numerous battle accomplishments.
And his eyes dip down to the silver scabbard at his waistâŠ
This was clearly someone potent.
âI have arrived with a proposition.â The bearded man invites himself to sit down on the very chair that Naoya had been at work at.
Naoyaâs eyes narrow, âOf what kind? Do I look like an errand boy to-â
âOf the kind I am aware your family is quite expert at.â Those words held such a dark weight to themâand he doesnât take his eyes off of the Prince for a single second as he utters. âTo be frank, I must request the ahâŠremoval of Prince Okkotsu Yuta from the throne.â
That makes the royal straighten. âFind yourself a common mercenary-â
THUNKâ!
From underneath his coat, the visitor pulls out a hefty bag - so large that Naoya wonders just how it had remained obscured for this long. There is a weight to it that makes the polished desk rattle, papers flying. There is an overabundance of its contentsâso that the burlap rim threatens to burst open.
Naoya gulps as he eyes the - albeit alluring - bag. âD-do you believe the Kingdom of Zenins to have plummeted so far that we hold the need for a single sack of gold?â
The other man chuckles, âGold?â
And with a single flick at the rimâitâs opening to revealâŠsapphires.
A miniature mountain of it.
Such a rare beauty. Naoya had never seen so many in all the treasuries heâd ransacked combined - and his hand it darting out to grasp itâ
âThis is, of courseâŠmerely the advance.â The man places his hand on top of the bag, and slides it discreetly away from the Prince. His fingers twitch towards it, but Naoya canât do anything with the other man here. âTrust me when I claim that your kingdom will have no shortage of sapphires for the next hundred years. I simply request that you prove your abilities to me.â
That snaps the Prince out of his constant eye-contact with the expensive bag. âProve?â
His now-client nods. âProve it. I should hope that the eradication of Prince Yuta shanât prove too daunting- and for that, I wish to know what otherâŠdeeds you have accomplished, Your Highness.â
âThe burning of the Inumaki kingdomâs crops.â Naoya immediately blurts outâbefore he lists off his familyâs proud accomplishments as though he was listing off a market list. The other man nods with an unreadable expression. âTheâŠdisplacement of the Cursed rubies, the demotion of the Ijichi household, the framing and eradication of the Gojo family-â
âOh?â At that last one, he looks more alert. âKindly elaborate on that final one, it seems to have ahâŠpiqued my interest.â
Naoya hesitates- before a single glance at the sapphire sack makes him talk once more. âIt was prior to my birth, thus the details might not be as adequate. Essentially what happened had to be done- the Gojo royals were advancing their economy in leaps and boundsâfar too rapidly, far too soon.â
As he continues, an almost proud smile twitches at his lips.Â
âIt was ingenious- really.â He hums, âJust a few forged letters, just a single meeting with His Majesty-â Naoya gestures vaguely at this palace. âAnd he became convinced that the Gojos were planning battle over the borders.â
Naoya spits.
âBorders? Pah- what borders?â Heâs pacing now, hands clasped behind his backâback turning to the other man as the Prince stares into the licking fireplace. âCome dawn, the palace was painted in red. Ministers. Mongrels. That King and Queen- the cowards begged for mercy, were you aware?â
Silence stretches.
It seems like an eon passes before the manâs answering - in a rough tone that punctures the silence. âIâŠI was not aware, no.â
Naoya huffs out haughty laughter.
âAnd what of their son?â
The Prince looks at the other man over his shoulder, brows pinched in confusion. âThey had no son.â
âNo.â The sword is pulled out of his scabbard. âThey hid Gojo Satoru well.âÂ
It embeds deeply in the junction between Naoyaâs shoulder and his neckâand his scream is silent. Expression twisted into shock as those final words registered - Gojo Satoru. Even in death, he hears his name.Â
Much louder than Naoyaâs scream was the impact of his cold, dead body hitting the carpeted floor - and almost instantly, Prince Okkotsu Yuta enters the chambers. âI have recorded the confession, uncle, and the troops are storming the Zenin palace as we speak.â
âGood.â Michizane pulls his sword out and watches as blood creates a painting across the brick fireplace and floor. He wipes it off using what would have been Prince Naoyaâs engagement robes, and places it back in his scabbard.Â
Yuta takes a step closer to offer a clean wipe to his uncle, âShould I summon a court meeting at once?â
âNo.â Michizane takes it and dabs at the beads of sweat on his forehead. Then he nods at Yuta to collect the bag of precious sapphires, âI have a far more important affair to attend to.â
.
.
.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKâ!
Both you and Gojo startle awake- and a single glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows reveals sunlight filtering in. A soft breeze rustles the sheer curtainsâŠand Gojoâs beautiful locks right beside you.
It wasnât the first time that you were waking up next to him.
But it was the first time it wasâŠin such a manner.
Youâre tugging on the satin blanket- of which you were wearing nothing underneath. Bare. Barely holding yourself back from him. And Gojo smiles to himself as the thought seems to occur to him, as well, reaching over to kiss youâbefore wincing at the red, red nail marks that twinged with movement.Â
Youâre leaning in as wellâ
But then two things occur to you:
It must have been at least midday.
Someone was at the door.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKâ!
More insistent this time.
The two of you look at each other.
Then at the door.
Then at each other.
Gojo jumps to his feet, throwing off the blankets and attempting to dive underneath your bed- but youâre raising a hand to stop him. Shaking your head imperceptibly. âNoâŠâ
âMy princess?â Gojo asks.
âI believe there comes a time where one must stop running.â Youâre speaking, more to yourself. And in a quick fashion you cross the room to don your satin robeâGojo manages to bunch up a few blankets that cover his bits. You shake your head and scour for one of his casual night garments from underneath your bed - throwing it at his head.
âFor all the princess in the land-â
âOh, perhaps I ought to hand you to the guards.â The guards that were surely outside. Perhaps waiting to accuse you of treason for shattering the Zenin union. Perhaps ready to embarrass you and your jester in front of the royal courts.
Whatever it shall be - whatever the price may be for loving Gojo Satoru - youâre raising your head high and taking it like a ruler.Â
You open the doors, and outside standsâŠ
Michizane?
He looks just as startled as you, though he manages out a rough smile. âMay I see the ring?âÂ
Youâre unsure what he meansâand youâre considering telling your guards to escort him away, when Michizane peers inside your bedroom and locks eyes with Gojo. Gojo who seems to startle the instant that blue, blue gaze meets his. PerhapsâŠ
And then heâs stepping forwards- pushing the door open ever-so-slightly further open.
And presenting his left hand - with the silver signet ring still upon it. A hollowed gasp leaves the older man, and heâs clasping Gojoâs hand in his own trembling, timid onesâholding it as though it was the most prized treasure in this world. Buried for eons.Â
Gojoâs voice sounds scratchy, âI-it is not my possession to don-â
Michizane shakes his head.Â
âI believeâŠâ He looks between the two of you, bright eyes twinkling with tears. â-that there is much we need to speak of.â
.
.
.
There was to be a royal wedding.
There was to be a royal wedding.
There was to be a royal wedding.
The union between yourself and the long-lost prince of the Gojo kingdom.Â
After Michizane had explained to you both - let alone an astounded court - that he was the uncle of your beloved jester, that he was titled royalty, and that Gojo himselfâŠwas the sole survivor of a gruesome attack that the Zenin family had orchestratedâŠGojo didnât believe it. Not at first.
Not that someone knew his life before this life.
Not that someone had come toâŠsave him. Because Michizane didnât - to Gojo, it had been you. And it forevermore shall be.
But you could see the fearful hope - almost unwelcome on his face - as Michizane explained that he hadnât known about the status of the Gojo heir, his nephew, before the engagement ball. He was so young, he must have forced himself to forget such a traumatic ordeal. Thus, it had always been assumed that he had perished along with his brother and his wifeâthough Michizane couldnât find a small body amongst the carnage.Â
And so he had always hopedâŠalways, alwaysâŠ
And it had been the signet ring (looted by the Zenins and gifted to your father, no doubt) that roused his suspicions. Then those eyes. That hair. That smile, like his motherâs.
It had to have been him.
Fearing such an attack, had the late Gojo royals not kept the birth of their son a secret, then his features would have gotten him poisoned before he even stepped foot into the royal court. The cap nâ bells masked more than one would think.Â
The scheme to expose the Zenins had been planned beforehand - being the only reason that Michizane even attended the ball in-person. And heâd thought that perhaps finding his late nephewâs look-alike had been a good omen.
Had beenâŠ
Oh, he just had to confirm it for himself. Especially after Naoya had affirmed that the Zeninâs hadnât been aware of any son.Â
Michizane could see the Gojo name in the boy. And so he was right.Â
Acceptance had taken long hours cooped up in the numerous palace librariesâporing over history books, and rewriting ones that misunderstood.
During this time was when youâd iron-handed your ministers into changing the law that âonly a prince shall marry a princessâ. Of course.Â
Long days and longer conversations.
Gojo had finally accepted that he was the sole righteous heir to the throne of Gojo by the time heâd ascended to the throne. It had occurred during a coronation too grand for words - of which you were the honored guest, of course.
Michizane had accumulated vast sapphire mines during his time away, and the Gojo kingdomâs infrastructure was soon able to recuperate their losses. Though not all of itâŠcertainly some wounds would take time.
But the first time that Gojo stepped through those familiar palace walls, he cried as if it were a dream. And heâd said as muchââI had believed it was a dream- oh, I believed this was all a dream. This is my home.â As he embraced you in the middle of the royal lobby, you could agree with the sentiment. âYou are my home.â
The first portrait that one saw when they entered the palace - moved by Michizane from Gojoâs former chambers to the main hallways - was one of his mother, his father, and Gojo himself.
Just an infant with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile.
He had his fatherâs eyes, but his motherâs smile.Â
After Gojoâs crowning, the borders of the Gojo kingdom were reestablished - all territories and citizens that surrounding kingdoms (as well as yours) had absorbed were handed to their rightful ruler.
His kingdom was newâŠbut building. And fast.
Then Gojo had gotten to work helping right all of the Zeninsâ wrongs. He aided in expanding the Inumakisâ agricultural lands, he returned the Cursed rubies that had been embedded in Naoyaâs coronet to lord Sukuna, he promoted the Ijichi householdâs titles twofold.Â
And he rebuilt his own family.Â
Of course, the Zenins themselves met their rightful fate. Prince Yuta had attacked their palace and numerous fortresses, causing those family members to be impounded. Some fled but were quickly caughtâin part due to General Yagaâs tireless assistance.Â
Gojo had insisted that the children grow up in his palace. And though youâd been befuddled at first - most certainly you wouldnât allow them to be hurtâŠbut as for raising them yourselves over placing them in noble homes - you quickly registered that Gojo simply didnât want history to repeat itself.
Above all, he took in young Fushiguro Megumi as a ward.
The trials for the other family members were currently ongoing.
But, recently, there was a new event that shook your kingdom.Â
The wedding.Â
Not one of political natureâŠbut rather love. No matter the class, position, or power the two of you heldâyou would always be his princess, and he your best friend- oh alrightâŠyour jester. But solely because Gojo still loved to act a-fool to make you laugh.Â
Your father had no choice but to approve your wedding to such a powerful young King. Why would he risk such strong political ties? Why would he risk your abandonment?
Your people throw snow-white petals of gardenia as the wedding carriage passes through the streets- on its way to a honeymoon voyage before setting down in a newly-built palace between his kingdom and yours. Megumi would live there, too, and of course youâd convinced your most-trusted attendantsâUtahime and everyone else that had readied Gojo that night of the engagement ball - to reside there, as well.Â
Not as servers, but with titles. With General Yaga as your head of guards.
You couldnât be happier.Â
Gojo holds your hand. Wedding band on his left ring finger, the Gojo signet on his middle. Â
Faces beamed and cheers soared as you two passed by in your dream-like carriageâupon a cloud. And though the kingdom had been decorated until one nearly couldnât spot a single roof, Gojo only had eyes for you.
Heâs unabashed as he leans down to publicly kiss you.Â
Now that he finally could, the boy that had once been jester.
âSatoru.â
âMy queen.â
A/N. Ugh had just finished watching the animated Sleeping Beauty before I wrote that ending, can you tell??
brat taming with choso ! đŐ Üž.ËŹ.ÜžŐđŠŻ
in which you refuse his princess treatment !? (smut)
youâre on one knee in the hallway, fingers fumbling with the laces of your left sneaker, when you hear chosoâs footsteps stop behind you.
âprincess?â his voice is soft, confused. âwhat are you doing?â
you glance over your shoulder. heâs standing there in his usual black hoodie, hair loose, brows drawn together like you just announced you were moving to another country. you finish the knot, double it, and stand up.
âtying my shoes,â you say, brushing your hands off on your jeans. âweâre gonna be late if we donât leave soon.â
he blinks. âi always do that for you.â
âyeah, well.â you grab your bag from the hook by the door. âi can do it myself today.â
choso doesnât move. he just watches you, quiet, like heâs trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. youâre already reaching for the doorknob when he finally speaks again.
âdid i forget something?â he asks. âdid i do something wrong?â
you pause, turn around. his face is open, genuinely worried, and it makes your chest twist. âno, baby. you didnât do anything wrong. i just⊠wanted to do it myself this morning.â
he nods slowly, but the crease between his brows doesnât smooth out. âokay.â
you make it all the way to the kitchen before he appears again. youâre standing at the counter, pouring cereal into a bowl, when he stops in the doorway.
âprincess,â he says again, softer this time. âi made you breakfast already. itâs in the fridge. the good yogurt. the one with the strawberries you like.â
you look at the bowl in your hands, then at him. âi know. i just felt like cereal today.â
he stares at you for a long moment. âyou hate that cereal.â
âitâs fine.â
âyou said it tastes like cardboard last week.â
you sigh, setting the bowl down. âchoso, itâs okay. i can make my own breakfast. you donât have to do everything for me.â
he doesnât argue. he just watches you eat three bites of the cardboard cereal before you give up and push the bowl away. he doesnât say anything when you grab a banana instead. instead, he keeps watching, quiet and thoughtful, like heâs cataloging every small rebellion.
by the time youâre in the car, heâs still quiet. his hand rests on your thigh like it always does, thumb stroking absent circles, but his mind is clearly somewhere else. you donât push it. you just let the silence sit between you, warm and familiar.
he doesnât ask again until youâre home that night.
youâre in the bedroom, changing out of your work clothes, when he appears in the doorway. heâs been home for an hour alreadyâlong enough to shower, long enough to make dinner and leave it covered on the stove. but he doesnât mention any of that. he just leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you pull a t-shirt over your head.
âsweetheart,â he says, and thereâs something different in his voice now. lower. âcome here.â
you turn. heâs still in the doorway, but his eyes have that lookâthe one he gets when heâs been thinking too hard about something and finally decided what to do about it. you cross the room slowly. he meets you halfway, his hands finding your waist, pulling you in until your chest is pressed to his.
âyouâve been doing everything today,â he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple. âtying your shoes. making breakfast. carrying your own bag. i didnât stop you. but i need to know why.â
you rest your forehead against his collarbone. âi donât know. i just wanted to feel like i could handle things. without you doing everything for me.â
heâs quiet for a moment. then his hands slide down to your ass, gripping you firmly, lifting you until your legs wrap around his waist. he carries you to the bed like you weigh nothing, laying you down on your stomach, his body already covering yours.
âyou can handle things,â he says against the back of your neck, his voice low and rough. âi know that. but you donât have to.â his hands are already working your jeans down your hips, yanking your panties with them. âyou donât have to do anything when iâm here. thatâs the point.â
you feel him shift behind you, hear the sound of his zipper, feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. he doesnât wait. doesnât tease. just pushes inside in one slow, deliberate thrust that has you gasping into the mattress.
âchosoââ
âshut up,â he snaps, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you harder. âyou wanna act like you donât need me? fine. but youâre gonna take this cock like its the only thing you need.â
his hips snap forward, burying him deeper, and you moan, your fingers fisting the sheets. âyou were so fucking stubborn this morning. tying your own shoes like i wasnât right there. making that shitty cereal like i didnât already have something ready for you. what the fuck was that?â
you whimper, your body rocking with every thrust. âi justâi wantedââ
âyou wanted to be difficult,â he growls, his hand sliding around to your clit, rubbing tight circles that make your thighs shake. âyou wanted to prove something. but look at you now. face down, ass up, dripping all over my cock because you canât even pretend you donât need me.â his pace is brutal, each thrust punching a moan out of you. âsay it. tell me how badly you need me.â
âi- i need you,â you gasp. âcho, pleaseââ
âthatâs right,â he pants, his voice dark and mean. âyou need me. you need me to fuck you like this because you can't make yourself cum as good as i can. but youâre still my good girl, arenât you? my perfect little princess who just needed to be reminded who she belongs to.â his fingers work faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, and youâre so close you can barely think. âcum for me. cum on this cock like the needy slut you are. show me how much you need it.â
you cum with a broken moan, your walls clenching around him, your body shaking. he fucks you through it, his pace relentless, his hand still working your clit until youâre sobbing into the pillow. only then does he let himself go, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing as he fills you.
he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves. then he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms, his hand stroking your hair.
ânow,â he murmurs, his voice already thick with sleep. âare you gonna be good and let me take care of you?â
you press a kiss to his chest, your body still humming. âokay.â
disclaimer â.Ë my works are purely fiction with all events occurring between 21+ consenting adults
right so since i'm a greedy WHORE i've been thinking about yuta and toge sharing you. and!! AND!! with yuta's copying technique... oh boy
i just imagine the three of you sitting at a bar, having a laugh and a few drinks. you've been best friends for a long time, and honestly, you're all lowkey down bad for each other but just haven't admitted it yet.
you slowly start dropping little hints to each other throughout the evening. not too much, though. the next time you three hangout, a few more secrets are spilled. and so on.
one night, the three of you are in your apartment, cuddled on the couch together and watching some stupid comedy film you chose at random. at some point, the scene changes into a threesome situation, and though its comical given the movie's theme, it had the three of you thinking...
and suddenly remembering your drunk confessions of wanting each other.
you're all staring at one another, not saying anything, just flickering your gaze over each others bodies. you suddenly recognize how sculpted both yuta and toge are. they can't decide whether they want to stare at you lips, chest, or thighs.
you fumble with the remote to turn off the tv as toge's lips close in on yours, tongue sliding heatedly into your mouth. he lets out a hum of satisfaction right before you feel yuta pulling at your waistband.
now, you're moaning uncontrollably, yuta's tongue slurping at your cunt so filthily, and toge's sucking and biting on your nipples desperately as his hands run all along your torso.
you don't even remember when you got there, but now you're in the bedroom, breaking the bed, toge fucking you into oblivion whilst yuta fucks your mouth with his cock. he's whimpering, one hand grabbing the sheets, the other grips your hair.
your eyes are watering, body feeling so overwhelmingingly full and overstimulated that you're about to lose it.
"fuck, i-"
"don't come."
toge's voice is sharp and demanding. your body freezes, your orgasm leaving you in an instant- but it still feels like you're about to break.
he looks at yuta, watching how you take his cock so well, smirking as he then stares you dead in the eyes and directs his commanding whispers towards yuta, "fill her mouth."
yuta growls, spilling his seed down your throat, your eyes rolling as you take all of him proudly.
toge's still moving in and out of you with no intention of stopping, hands gripping your waist as he slams into your warm walls.
yuta shudders, slowly pulling himself out of you with a wicked grin, leaning down to kiss you hard and wet on the mouth before sitting back on his knees to watch you and toge.
his arms are crossed, face smug, parting his lips to speak. you gaze at him, eyes glassy as your body shifts along the bed from toge's ardent thrusts. you notice the cursed speech marks appearing on yuta's cheeks.
oh, fuck.
he licks his lips, watching you intensely, "come," he says, low and raspy.
your throat breaks, but before you can push over the edge, toge speaks again.
"stop."
you cry, body begging for release, eyes rolling, shaking violently as if you actually had come when you hadn't yet.
"so, that's what we're doing?" yuta chuckles, smirking at toge.
toge smiles darkly, nodding in agreement.
"p-please," you whine, unsure if you can take anymore. you were so fucking close.
the two of them look at you, eyes lowered and plotting. "no," they say in unison.
so, as you can imagine, they continued their game of cat and mouse, telling you to come, then telling you to stop repeatedly until they felt like you'd suffered enough.
when they finally let you have it, your scream nearly shattered the bedroom window, throat croaking and body squirming so aggressively you almost fell onto the floor.
"come."
"again."
"come."
"again."
you have no idea how many orgams you had, you lost track. all you knew is that you were utterly destroyed by the end of it.
you've said those words so many times, it could be considered a catchphrase by now. sat beside you, mammon nods along in agreement with a scoff, nose wrinkling with a pout as he blinks up at satan. "yah, what she said. why yall always got yer heads in the gutter 'bout us?"
satan stares back silently, eyes darting back and forth lazily between the two of you for a long moment with a look of exasperation. lifting one hand, he wags a finger at the spaceâor lack thereofâbetween you and mammon. "i know you don't have much experience in having friends, mammonâ" "hah?!" "-but normally, friends don't cuddle with each other."
you feel mammon's arms tighten around you, tugging you closer against his chest and shifting his body to block you from satan's view. cheek now smushed into his chest, you have to crane your neck to peek over his shoulder, met with the sight of satan shaking his head while sighing in a way that reminds you of lucifer. "friends can cuddle! yer jealous cause the human don't wanna cuddle with you!" mammon's quick to defend, and it's your turn to nod in agreement, even sticking your tongue out at satan playfully. mammon snickers, lifting one hand off your waist to stroke your head. "that's my girl, good human!"
satan's now pinching the bridge of his nose, a furrow between his eyebrows as he turns to leave. "great, your idiocy is contagious and the human's caught it. we'll have to quarantine the living room before anyone else gets infected." the sound of his footsteps fade until you and mammon are left alone in silence. arms loosening around you just a bit, mammon goes slack with an annoyed grumble, dropping his head down until it rests against yours and his breath tickles your forehead. "stupid jerk.. s'totally normal for us to cuddle.. right?"
you nod again, squirming to free your arms from where they'd been trapped between you two to wrap them around mammon's shoulders, tilting your head back to look up at him. he meets your gaze with a familiar look of insecurity he thinks he hides well. "totally! back in the human world, me and my girlfriends would cuddle all time when we had sleepovers! smarty pants doesn't know what he's talkin about," you reassure him with a coo, stroking his hair sweetly. physical affection between friends has always been normal to you, and you didn't understand why all the brothers found it weird when you and mammon got close. maybe it was because he was a boy and you were a girl? hm..
mammon brightens at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his arms tighten around you again now that you've chased his doubts away. "ha! yeah, i knew that! 'm tellin ya, they're all jealous ya like me more," he says with all the conviction in the world, tugging you up further onto his chest with a happy sigh as he relaxes back into the couch cushions, "totally normal."
"totes normal," you agree, tucking your head underneath his chin as you get comfortable on his chest. you can hear the steady thumping of his heart, the sound comforting and familiar, eyelids drooping low as you let it lull you into a state of sleepiness. you were just about to slip into unconsciousness when mammon's voice catches your attention, bringing you back. "would it be normal if we.. kissed too?"
lifting yourself up until your hovering over him, mammon blinks up at you with wide eyes, hands twitching nervously over your sides like he's keeping himself from pulling you back down into him. kissing. that's something you never did with your friends back in the human world, but you've seen it in movies and read about it in a few books. friends made out sometimes, right? why else would they put it in films and write about it if it didnt happen? yeah.. yeah!
smiling down at him, you nod in agreement, resting your hands on his chest as you sit on his abdomen. "sure! it's just another way of showing affection, right? totally normal!" mammon's expression melts into one of relief, hands holding more firmly onto your sides as he nods along with your words. "yeah! yeah, yer right! just kissin, it aint nothin serious. totally normal!"
you both go quiet after that, caught in a weird staring contest, as if you're both waiting for the other to do something. mammon's fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, causing it to bunch up around your hips and the cool air of the room sending a little chill up your spine as it hits your exposed lower back. you squirm slightly, unconscious of your position and accidentally rubbing your ass back against mammon's crotch, and his hips press up into the movement so subtly, its obvious it was on instinct instead of purposely. mouth suddenly feeling dry, you lick your lips, and mammon's eyes dart down to follow your tongue. his chest rises under your palms as he sucks in a sharp breath.
"hey.." he murmurs quietly, eyes still trained on your mouth.
"yeah?" you mumble back, your own gaze lowering to his lips.
"c'mere."
you lean in without complaint, mammon's hand cupping around the nape of your neck to pull you in faster as he tilts his head to catch you in a kiss. it's just a kiss, simple, your lips pressed against his for a few moments before you two pull back. it's quiet again, you both sharing a few blinks before you're crashing back into each other.
fingers tangling in his hair, you tug his head back so you can get a better angle, licking into his mouth until mammon whines and presses his tongue to yours. his arms sneak around your waist, hands dragging up the length of your back and pushing your shirt up with it, his warm palms contrasting with the cold room and sending more shivers up your spine. you can taste the sweetness of the candy you two had shared earlier, sucking the flavor from his tongue before breaking away with a wet pop, mammon chasing after your mouth with a whimper. he's quick to find another way to keep his mouth busy, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he smothers your throat with open mouthed kisses and bites just hard enough to make you gasp.
hands moving down your sides, his palms cup around your ass with a gentle squeeze, using his grip to guide your hips down against his in slow grinds. dragging your clothed pussy over the quickly growing bulge in his pants, he whimpers again, the sound muffled against your skin. "this is normal, yeah? tell me it's okay, please," he begs, nosing along your jaw until his lips are pressed to the corner of your mouth, waiting. you bite down on your lip, trapping a moan in the back of your throat as mammon continues humping up against you. it has to be normal, right? it feels too good to not be.
"yuh huh, sooo normal, monnie," you rush out in one breath, voice pitching around a whine when the button of his pants bumps against your clit. thats all mammon needed to hear, flipping your positions fast enough to make you dizzy. settling himself between your legs, he kisses you deep as he grinds down into you, holding himself up on one arm while the other rubs over your side. "fuck, this feels good! why weren't we doin this sooner?" he groans into the kiss, and now you're wondering the same thing, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him down closer, "ahhn, don't ever wanna stop.."
your lips part to share your agreements, but instead, a shrill scream cuts through the air.
mammon jolts so hard he nearly throws both of you off the side of the couch, barely catching himself in time as he whips his head around toward the door way. there stands asmodeus, both hands cupped over his cheeks as he stares at you both with wide, sparkling eyes. a few steps behind him is leviathan, looking equal parts disgusted and horrified. "eugh, on the couch?! you're sucha degenerate, mammon!"
mammon's jaw swings as he tries to speak, a high squeak escaped in lieu of any words as his face progressively gets more and more red. you can feel your own face heating, quickly hiding behind your palms. you hear asmodeus squeal, the sound of his heeled boots clicking against the floor getting horribly close. "ohhh, i knew you two were dating! always saying you're 'just friends' and yet here you are, getting allâ"
"shh-shut yer trap, asmo! we aint doin nothin! and we are friends! we were just... just wrestlin, thats all!"
"wrestling? with what, your tongues?" you hear leviathan comment, still standing in the doorway, and soon after mammon's jumping off of the couch and chasing him, the sound of them yelling slowly fading. peeking out from between your fingers, you see asmodeus still standing over you with a wide, teasing grin. "soooo?"
you only groan and turn over, burying your face into the cushions. maybe it wasnt that normal..
i love mc and mammon having a 'dumb and dumber' type relationship. also enjoyed writing the other bros in this
You havenât been paying attention to the teacher for half an hour.
To be fair, itâs hard to focus when someone keeps burning a hole into the back of your head.
You were so close to falling asleepâuntil the sensation arrived.
A gaze. Heavy. Like it was drilling straight through your skull. Your whole body jerked with a shudder, and you went still, your heartbeat suddenly loud.
You didnât know who it was.
It could be a demon who wanted to kill you out of jealousy? Or a demon who wanted you for lunch?
Either way, you refused to turn around. Absolutely not.
Instead, you busied yourself. Writing colorful notes. Drawing cat doodles. Daydreaming. Anything to stop your brain from catastrophizing.
You even started planning your last words.
If you got cornered in the halls and someone tried to stab youâwould you call one of the seven brothers?
Mammon. Probably Mammon. Heâs a decent protector, assuming heâs in the mood to be useful.
You also considered running out the classroom the second the bell rang. Then reality reminded you that you would not outrun a demon.
Okay. Maybe you could take a peek at who youâd be running away from.
A quick look. A safe glance.
You tilted your head carefully, eyes landing on a certain white-haired man.
The demon staring at youânow that you knew the identity ofâimmediately jerked his head away, nearly knocking himself out of his chair.
Heat spread over his neck and up his face, blooming into an unmistakable pink flush.
â...Mammon? Are you okay?â You blinked.
In your mind, it was kind of a cute reaction. At least you knew you werenât dying today.