࿐ stoner choso! the first thing you notice about him is that he looks wildly out of place. everyone else is loud. the music is loud. the people are loud. somebody is standing on a kitchen counter trying to shotgun a beer and failing spectacularly. you’ve never been a fan of frat parties, and the one was especially brutal.
but he’s just sitting on the back porch - alone - with a hoodie and sweats, hair tied back, smoking a joint.
you end up outside when your social battery dies (you last through about three conversations with frat guys before needing a break). the night air feels cool against your skin when you push open the sliding door. he glances up.
“you escaping too?” he asks. his voice is low and rough, features sleepy and dark and you’re filled with the sudden urge to push the stray strands of hair off his forehead.
“that obvious?”
“a little.”
he shifts over on the porch swing, making room. you sit in silence, staring out at the backyard, the party noise reduced to muffled bass thumping from inside the house now. he holds up the joint after a moment. “want it?”
you hesitate. “depends. is it gonna kill me?”
he smiles, small and crooked. “probably not.”
“very reassuring.”
“i try.”
you pluck the joint from his hands and his fingers brush yours. you ignore the weird little spark that shoots up your arm. you take a drag, the smoke burning your throat immediately. you cough so hard you nearly fold in half. he watches you, vaguely amused, and chuckles when you thrust the joint back to him, grimacing. “you could’ve warned me.”
“where’s the fun in that?”you stare at him. he stares back, and then suddenly both of you are laughing.
you end up staying on that porch for almost two hours. his name is choso. he studies something science-related that you don’t fully understand because he explains it while half faded and distracted. he has a younger brother. he hates tequila. he likes old records and strawberry mochi and rainy weather.
he knows your name and that you definitely don’t like smoking. he likes the curve of you smile and the way you tuck your knees up onto the swing. he likes the sound of your laugh and knows that your favourite dessert is an ice cream sundae.
the party starts to die down well into the morning - you’d been so distracted by your conversation with this perfect stranger that you’d lost track of time. “i should probably go,” you say.
“yeah.” choso looks at you with his pretty, tired eyes and neither of you move as you watch each other in silence.
a beat passes. “can i get your number?” he blurts.
you blink and choso immediately looks like he regrets saying anything. “that sounded stupid.”
“it kinda did,” you lilt. “good thing i’m giving it to you anyway.”
his ears turn pink and you grin - it feels impossible considering the man looks like he could intimidate a bear. you type your number into his phone and when you hand it back to him he shoves one hand in his pocket. “i’ll text you.”
“you better.” he smiles again, the same one from earlier, and your stomach swims because it feels like it’s just for you.
and later, when your phone lights up before you’ve even made it home, the message reads:
choso :) : made it ten minutes before texting
you stare at the screen smiling like an idiot.
you: desperation, actually 😉😉
three dots appear immediately.
choso :) : yeah, probably. wanna hang out tomorrow?
choso didn’t think he was the obsessive type, not until he met you. now he’s certain that he’s obsessive because the sight of you riding his cock has him dazed and, well, obsessed. eyes practically filled with hearts at the way you whine about how he’s ‘too big’ to keep going but still moving regardless, bounces slowing to needy grinds.
“don’t stop,” he pouts, “keep going.”
your cunt jumps around him, “but cho—”
“just a little more,” encouraging, hands on your hips pulling at your soft skin. “i wanna keep watching you move.”
hands planted on his chest to leverage yourself a little better, “you’re lucky i like you,” sulking as your thighs spread a bit wider over him.
he really does feel lucky in this moment because even though you’re too tired to keep the pace you had earlier, you’re moving your hips quickly, desperately. chasing what feels good for you and he loves that, loves watching you use him to make yourself feel good. getting off on it an obscene amount, and his dick twitching inside you has you mewling.
every grind forward has his cock pulling from you just the tiniest bit and the slide is smooth, your creamy cunt swallowing him back in before he can mourn the loss of your heat. there isn’t a single doubt in his mind that you’re leaving behind a milky, white ring around his shaft.
your arms are trembling, weak from exhausting yourself and how good it feels. “cho, i cant– hng– i can’t—”
“i got you,” he coos softly, comforting.
and then he’s grabbing your hips harshly and fucking up into you quick, sharp. the lewd squelching of your pussy getting fucked so well filling the room. and he’s still watching you, delighting in how you whimper and fall apart on his dick. taking him so well, lower lip wobbling as you get closer and closer to cumming.
“you’re so pretty,” he compliments, “i love you so much, so pretty when you’re on top.”
his words do you in, he knows it. your cunt shivering around him at the praise and gushing around him as you reach your high, soaking his dick. as hard as he tries, he can’t hold off on cumming. pumping you full of his hot load, groaning through his orgasm because you’re so snug around him and so pretty when you cum.
even through your shaking, he’s still helping you hump down into him. twitching on top of his lap as your clit grinds against his pelvis, all sensitive and dazed. a part of him wanting to make you keep going, for you to keep riding him even if it overstimulates your poor pussy.
because he’s not just obsessed with you riding him but also with how you cum... and everything else about you.
"I get exhausted by talking to multiple people for a long time, so i sometimes need to just go home and stare at a wall til i come down from that" sam my neurodivergent brother in christ 😭😭😭😭
He's demonic and bloody but he holds me tight ᥫ᭡. yokai!Choso × f!reader
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ceredits to @\Glowx_21 for the artwork ♡
Summary : Jin Itadori has been desperately looking for a babysitter that won't run away as soon as his sweet boy Yuji begins to talk about his "older brother" that no on can see. Lucky for him, he finds you : incredibly good with kids, and passionate about spooky things. You'd never thought that, one night, this Choso Yuji's been talking about, would give you the most intense, sloppiest orgasm you've always desired.
Content Warning : yokai!Choso\ghost!Choso, SMUT, PinV, unproteced sex, oral sex ( m&f receiving ) MINORS DNI
WC : 5.5K
a\n : english is not my first language so please be mindful of it ♡
The first thing Yuji’s father told you, when hiring you as his babysitter, was that his son has a very very fervid imagination; Jin thought he needed to reassure you about his imaginative way of talking, especially about those nights where you could hear him talk to nothing right before bedtime, spending ten good minutes talking about how the pediatrician said this was just one of the many phases of childhood. Nothing more than a classic imaginary friend, except Yuji was convinced that it was his brother.
What Jin Itadori didn’t know, was that you’ve always been a sucker for spooky and scary things, it would be even more appropriate to say that you had a proper passion for horror in general : the way it sends you chills down your spine, the feeling of goosebumps covering up your skin, it makes something that you can’t quite fully understand sparkle into your brain. It makes you feel alive.
But the real deal comes with your insane attraction with the villains in those movies, but is it your fault if writers made them all so dangerously charismatic ? Casting directors truly need to revise their choices when it comes to selecting people to interpret them, and the more tormented they look, the more you clench your thighs.
So when Yuji first talked about his “brother”, what spontaneously came out of your mouth was was :
“Is he cute ? I might like him ! ” the baby boy’s eyes lightened up like stars in a night sky, wide smile with a couple of missing teeth when he first looked at you, and then at the emptiness next to him, as if there was someone else. You could tell he was not at all used to someone acknowledging the existence of this phantomatic brother, not that you believed that he actually existed, but why not indulging into a child’s fantasy, to make him happy ?
On the other hand, you couldn’t possibly imagine that everything Yuji said about that thing was the truth. To your eyes, it was invisible, but there was a tall, gloomy figure next to the kid, his sleepy eyes slowly opened wide as that question slipped off your tongue, a reaction that made Yuji giggle before responding.
“ Choso is nice ! But he is too shy to talk to others, that’s why you can’t see him. ”
“ Oooh that’s his name ? Choso ? Well, tell Choso it would be nice to meet him, hope he won’t be shy for long ! ”
You’ve never been someone easy to scare, but from that night on, nothing has been the same.
It all started with simple coincidences, nothing worth noticing but difficult to ignore in the long term. The first days went smooth, you got to get to know Yuji better, help him with homeworks, cooking him his favourite meals before bed; something began happening the first time he showed you one of his family drawings, well dressed stickmen under a big sun.
“ This is dad, this is me and my brother ! ” the entire scene felt like something ripped out of a classic horror movie with a haunted house and sensible kids able to see something that parents couldn’t see until it was too late. The figure next to drawn-Yuji was way taller than both of them, it seemed to be wearing a very long black robe fully covering his body, spikes coming out his head.
“ He’s almost as handsome as you, little tiger. ” after jokingly scruffing up his pink hair, you leaned your face down towards the paper when, all of the sudden, you felt a huff of icing cold hair behind your neck. You couldn't help but react instinctively, covering the nape of your neck with your hand before straightening up your back and look behind you. Nothing, of course.
“ Choso don’t be rude ! ” all you saw was an open window behind you, and Yuji’s voice brought you back to the reality you had lost attachment to for a slip second. With a small smile curling up your lips, you stood up and went to close the window, looking up at the clock on the wall.
“ Don’t worry Yuji, I’m sure he just wanted to get a better look at your drawing. ” of course it was nothing more than the chilling autumnal breeze. “ ready to go to bed ? ” lucky you, Yuji was never difficult to deal with, the most well behaved child you’ve ever met, even if he seemed to have energy to stay awake for days on end.
After tucking him in bed, you went straight back to the living room : you closed every window, cleaned up all the dishes, markers and papers scattered around the coffee table, until you could finally sit down and cozily curl up into a fluffy duvet. It was still early for you, and Mr Itadori had a long night shift at work.
A new horror film popped up on the screen, something about a family being haunted by a spirit. How ironic.
Days, weeks passed.
Your experience as Yuji’s babysitter went great, spending a lot of time together almost as if you were becoming some kind of older sister to him; Yuji wanted you to meet his friends, baby Megumi and Nobara were such cuties, you even offered to chaperon all of them during some playdates. It was then when some more peculiarities began to happen more frequently.
First of all, every time you went to those playdates, you began to feel an incredibly cold sensation coming from your back. Every, single, time, but it didn’t pick much on your scepticism, given the fact that it was almost fully winter by then. At home, objects seemed to shift on their own in places where they were not supposed to be.
Vases shifting on their surfaces, folded clothes that you personally had put on the coffee table that, when you left for a moment to answer the phone, were suddenly on the sofa. You did not believe in ghosts but holy, things were getting weird.
“ ..Choso is not a bad guy, y\n. Please don’t go away. ” as you were tucking Yuji in bed for the night, his words hit directly to your heart, tender with this little boy’s sweetness.
“ Don’t worry, little tiger, I will stay. ” your palms stroking his soft strands of hair when a spark of clarity shooted through your brain : why did he say that ? Did he know something about the strange things happening around the house ? – Oh my god, I’m getting paranoid. “ Dream about something nice, alright ? Don’t let bad thoughts trouble you. ”
What the fuck was happening ?
…
Today’s been a long day, you had to study for your own exams and helped Yuji with his never ending homeworks. Is it normal for elementary school to give this much homework ? Your mind is so tired, to the point you think you’re actually hallucinating as, while cooking dinner, you seem incapable of finding the cloth you swear you just placed on the kitchen counter next to you. Your eyes finally catch it, and you could swear it is moving on it’s own sliding away from you. No hand moving it, not a huff of hair strong enough to do something like this.
You can’t understand whether it’s for tiredness or because you’re scared to death, but your hand abruptly grabs it and shove it on your shoulder, heart pumping so fast you quickly fill a glass of water and chug on it.
I’m just stressed, I need to eat and take a nice shower. That’s all.
Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong.
Maybe it’s your stubbornness mixed with the hot shower’s steam clouding up the bathroom that’s convincing you that everything’s alright now, nerves no longer brushing against your skin making you all tense; the small droplets running down your body help with giving you some sense of relaxation, together with the softness of the towel wrapped around your naked body.
You let down your hair from the hairpin’s grip, slightly swaying the soft strands side to side to let them loose, your eyes still closed as you take in a deep breath. Who would have thought that that would have been your worst mistake ? As you use another towel to dry away the sheer stratification of humidity from the mirror - which was making the surface all blurry - next to your reflection, you suddenly catch a blood chilling figure right behind you.
Whatever noise was supposed to come out your mouth gets stuck into your throat, eyes wide open with terror while your skin becomes a couple of shades lighter the more you look at it.
“ – it’s just.. no, this is just.. an hallucination. ” one step, two, but at the third one, as you go backwards, back collides with something sturdy and inhumanly cold.
“ why ? ” you don’t move. You can’t. The figure’s reflection hasn’t disappeared yet, and the voice brushing right against the outer shell of your ear makes it impossible for your conviction of being hallucinating to stay solid. You do your best to swallow down the huge knot that’s tying your vocal chords, but never has something felt so difficult.
The voice sounds distorted, polyphonic even, it seems like it’s your entire body that’s listening to it, that he is talking right to your very spirit; there’s not much you're able to do other than never leaving it’s reflection from the mirror, silently observing how Choso actually looks like. Turns out that Yuji’s quite capable of depicting his brother, who’s wearing that exactly black robe - traditional clothes you’d say, something truly antiquated - the black line tracing the center of his face side to side turns out it actually looks like it is bleeding something .. thick, something you truly don’t want to find out what it is … or do you ?
The tip of your tongue suddenly feels like tingling at the thought, but it’s when you finally set your eyes onto his that you realize there’s something truly wrong with you. They look sleepy, haunted, pitch black pupils so large they almost cover every trace of white in it, looking downwards straight at you.
“ why are you not scared ? ” Choso doesn’t fail to give you chills exactly like the first time, fist gripping the towel so tight your knuckles are turning fully white.
“ you’re .. you’re not real. ” still not able to turn around and face whatever is behind you, you finally manage to speak, trying whatever you can to gain back the last bits of your sanity. Fool.
In the blink of an eye, the creature is right in front of you, leaning his face down, down at a mere palm from yours, trying to stare into your soul through your eyes. Black strands fall down his forehead like thin spikes, contrasting so much with the alabaster shade of his skin, just like the like on his nose, which you notice it’s starting to elongate a little through the cheeks.
“ you know I am. ” his lips stay flat despite the tone of his voice now resembling a scraping screech, those eyes of his being just a moment ago heavy lidded, are now fully open, observing your face with a creepy accuracy, almost as if he’s looking for something in your expression. “ do you.. think I’m handsome ? ”
A pop of color finally appears on your skin, a sheer pink coloring up your cheeks hearing that question.
So he was actually there the whole time.
“ yes – ” unlucky for you, the pain you feel after slapping both your hands on your mouth is way too bland to distract your mind from the unholy thoughts it is forming.
“ yes ? oh, you are a strange one. ” so tall, so broad, so.. fucking hot. It’s like one of your deepest fantasy just became reality, but the monstrous nature of it makes it almost impossible for you to understand what your body is telling you : are you supposed to run and never come back in this place, hoping not to end up in a psychiatric hospital, or to realize that the dampness in between your leg is not a product from the shower ?
His eyebrows suddenly furrow, the distance between you dissolves into nothing as he almost beauties his nose into your collarbone. Choso emanates such a cold energy, your body gets immediately covered with goosebumps, and your nipples so perky their shape become visible though the fabric of the towel that’s barely hanging on your body by now.
There’s not a single word you can think of as he slowly brushes the tip of his nose along your skin, confusion contorting his face as much as yours, since you do not understand what's happening. You even just got out of the shower for god’s sake !
“ you’ve got a strange smell on you, y\n. ” just like this, hearing your name pronounced by his distorted, but somehow softer voice, the need to brush your tights against one another becomes impossible to ignore, embarrassment making your body tingle and step back, only for you to hit the wall. That’s when it hits him, a careful observer for being a ghost . “ is it arousal ? ”
“ what ? no – no ! Absolutely not. ” and who, exactly, are you trying to fool ? Acting as if your entire body isn't asking for whatever that creature is to touch it; it recognizes the presence that’s been haunting you lately while you were taking care of Yuji, the lingering cold sensation behind your neck when you brought the kid to the park, or when you tucked him in bed.
Your skin remembers it, and now, it’s craving it.
Choso steps closer, as if he has not even the slightest clue about what personal space is, his fingers slowly curl around the knot that’s keeping the towel on your body.
“ do you want me to please you ? ”
A loud crash makes your head turn immediately to the side, and just like that, you wake up in your fully dark bedroom, the window shudders wide open because of a strong huff of wind. Why are you in your room ? How ? Your head spins like from a hangover, you look around and there’s nothing strange, your body still wrapped around you.
I was so tired that I collapsed, that’s all.
After properly closing the window, you fall back on the bed, eyes looking at the ceiling when those sensation’s memories hit directly your skin : it’s almost as if you can feel the tip of that ghost’s nose brushing against your neck, and you can’t help but envy that version of your dream who got to directly experience that. Because it was a dream, right ?
The strangest thing of all is that it felt so real, it's obvious that the whole Choso situation with Yuji is sticking to you after all this time, but it’s not the first time you have a wet dream about some supernatural creature or a horror’s villain. Nonetheless, the frustration is hitting your need for pleasure hard, so it’s only natural for your fingers to reach down between your tights.
Untying the towel once and for all, as the fingertips find your throbbing clit, you pinch one of your nipples just enough to make yourself whimper – his name.
“ Oh God, Choso, right there .. ” your voice soft, inner tights getting wetter and wetter as you build up the pleasure you wish it was him giving you, with closed eyes you imagine his fingers touching you, his broad figure hovering over you as his eyes drink your pleasure expression in.
What your mind can’t even conceive, is the fact that not only Choso is real, but he is in the room with you, hiding in that particularly dark corner right in front of your bed. His tall figure perfectly merges with the absolute absence of light, admiring your body reacting to the pleasure you’re feeling thinking about him.
After you passed out in the bathroom, Choso thought he finally managed to scare you once and for all to the point of convincing you to go away and leave him alone with Yuji’s full attention; yes, he’s been jealous of you since you firstly came, the way his little brother couldn’t stop talking about you made him angrier every time he saw you coming back to his house, despite his tentatives to scare you away. They always worked with other babysitters, why not with you ? Choso sensed something was different with you the first time he heard you asking if he was cute, but never had he imagined you had such a .. attraction for something like him.
It is not the first time he observes you from your own room, he got curious with time, but never has he seen you do something like this. Maybe this is the reason he can’t take his haunted eyes off of your sopping wet pussy, or maybe it’s because of the unbearable urge to touch it. To taste it – to feel it. He is so used to you being asleep, that he doesn’t think before stepping out of the corner, his steps not making a single sound of course.
“ so you do want me to please you. ”
On the other hand, you are so caught up in your own pleasure, eyes shut while you try to remember every single detail about him, that you’re convinced you’re imagining his voice.
“ touch me- pleeeease touch me. ” your words are a mere whisper brushing against your own lips.
It sounds like enough for him to get closer, and closer, as a haunting spirit he is, until you sense the bed sinking under something’s weight.
You finally open your eyes, pulled away from your fantasy.
Your mouth immediately opens up to let out a scream Choso doesn’t let come out by putting his hand on it.
Oh I’m soooo fucked.
He’s silent, head slightly tilted to the side trying to understand your reaction, given the way you were begging him just a moment before for him to touch you in such a scandalous manner. Then, the same smell as before hits him, way stronger this time, and his eyes slowly fall onto the hand you were using to give yourself pleasure. Choso wraps his fingers around your wrist, under your attentive gaze, he slowly brings your hand towards him, letting your wet fingertips brush against his lips.
Your heart pumps so fast into your chest you can feel the rhythm into your eardrums, watching a haunting entity taste your pleasure : the tip of his tongue swipes against the few stains on his lips, before sliding your fingertips into his mouth, gently sucking on it with, what it seems, a crescent greediness.
“ I want more. ” His touch is way more gentle than what you could ever expect from whatever Choso is, those droopy eyes of his set on your face as he sets both your mouth and your wrist free. Your supposition about him becoming particularly interested in your body slowly takes form into his gestures, his body sliding down the mattress until he’s facing your ridiculously wet folds.
Your intentions get more wicked every moment Choso spends looking at you, making you spread your legs a little bit more, silently giving him all the access he needs to get what he wants,
What both of you so desperately want.
His mouth is cold against the tender flesh of your center, latching his lips onto your sensible button and hollowing his cheeks creating a suction so sudden that makes your head sink into the pillows, your hands immediately finding grip onto his hair.
Is it actually happening ? You’re getting eaten out by a .. spirit ? Demon ? whatever Choso is, he’s making your whole body tremble with so much pleasure, your eyes are already starting to tear up from the stimulation. You barely manage to open them, feeling the urge to look with your own eyes at what he is doing, and oh – the black line cutting on his nose is bleeding.
Black streaks falling down his cheeks like pitch black tears, his lids fallen closed as his eyebrows are furrowed than ever, but the best of all are the his whimpers mixed with the wet sounds of his mouth making out with your sopping wet pussy.
“ fffffuck Choso ‘m gonna cum– gonna cum gonna cum gonna cum ! ” you’ll thank god later for your room being downstairs, meaning that Yuji could not possibly hear you anyways, because his big brother is revealing himself to be capable of making you a moaning mess by just a few wipes of his incredibly skilled tongue.
White spots hit your vision together with an orgasm so intense, you didn’t even realize how desperately you were tugging at his hair; now, that he’s slowly getting up, you notice his now free, long black strands falling down to his shoulders, making him even more hauntingly attractive than he was before.
“ I liked it, I want to give you more. ” right before he could bury his face once more between your thighs, you miraculously manage to stop him by holding his face with both your hands, a small chuckle filling up your chest in response to his instinctive drive.
“ easy on that, handsome ghost, ” you sit up despite the wobbly tights, freeing his cheeks from your hands, only to carefully wrap your fingers around the hems of both sides of his outer robe. “ would you like me to make you feel as good as you did to me ? ” the bold move you could have never imagined yourself doing, trying to undress an ancient spirit out of pure lust.
“ me ? ” the genuine confusion on his face makes him appear so pretty to your eyes, letting you fully undress him from both the robe and the under robe, exposing a perfectly sculpted torso that leaves you out of words for a moment or two, almost fully distracting you from what he says. “ I don’t know if a Yokai can feel it. ”
Maybe undressing his was the smartest move you could pull, because as your absolutely starstruck eyes gaze down his torso, fingertips delicately tracing the curves, you notice his hakama pants tenting up. A lot.
“ so that’s what you are, mh ? It must be so intense .. ” your voice honeyed with intention, while your fingers work their way down to his bulge, carefully wrapping around it to give it a gentle squeeze, just to taste the waters. “ have you never been touched ? ”
“ n-no.. I’m too — nggh! monstrous ” the definitive proof that this Yokai is a mourning virgin it’s not just the whimpers sliding off of his mouth, but the way his black mark keeps bleeding more and more. You can’t help but bite down your own lower lip and squeeze a little bit more around his growing hard on.
“ monstrous ? Nonsense, ” you can feel him tense under your touch, even more when your fingers begin to undo his pants, under his begging eyes, which Choso tries to cover with a hand on his face for the .. embarrassment ? There could rise a debate on who’s the true monster now between the two of you, given the way you’d devour him if natures were switched. “ you are captivating, Choso. And incredibly talented with your tongue. ”
The sight of his cock being finally freed from his clothing’s constriction becomes the only thing capable of catching your attention. There’s some think purple veins tracing his V line reaching the base, a couple of them spreading along the discreetly long shaft; but it’s the thickness that makes your mouth water, the mushroomy tip already leaking some precum because of your hand.
The temptation is way stronger than your ability to resist. You fall on all fours, the bed slightly creaking under your movements as your lips reached for his glistening tip, licking away some of those precum beads. A low, shattered cry fills Choso’s chest at the warmth of your lips, now fully wrapping around his tip, sucking it gently enough to let him get used to the sensation.
There’s a cold sensation filling up your mouth, almost as if you were sucking on a popsicle, you sprawl out your mouth wide inch by inch you take in, until it reaches the back of your throat. The more he moans, holding onto your hair as he begins to almost crawl into himself, incapable of managing the waves of pleasure, the more you’re getting wet. Oh, you’re already a mess, your juices wetting your thighs.
“ ‘s too much— does .. aaah! does it — always feel like this ? ” his question sounds so genuine you feel devilish about the level of list that’s guiding your actions as much as your mind, now fully blown away by the fact that you are, indeed, sucking a spirit off. After lulling your tongue out of your mouth, swiping away the drooling mess you’ve made around him, a wicked smile curles up your lips, as you stand your torso back up to face him. Well, almost.
He’s a really tall Yokai, the most you manage to reach is his sternum, looking up at him, the face of someone who’s barely holding it together. But is it going to stop you ?
You’re definitely the one who should be in hell for the way you hold his cheeks with both your hands, lowering his face towards yours, enough to put your lips on his. The kiss is slow at first, not at all rushed, especially because of how still Choso is at first; you begin to move your lips, guiding him until he does the same, soft whimpers shattering between your mouths as the kiss develops into something sloppier. You yourself said that he’s a talent with his tongue, nonetheless it surprised you how much he tries to entangle it with yours, lips slicking and sliding against one another.
“ want me to make it feel even better, mh ? ” the contact stops when you let your mouth slide to the corner of his, then to his jaw, until you reach that specific point under his ear. “ want to know how does it feel to be inside me ? ” one last bite to his lobe, and you’re back at looking him in the eyes. Yours lighted up by a sparkle that matches his, deep curiosity on both ends, the unbearable need to give in to it.
He nods, almost as if you sucked his voice out of him through his cock and now, biting your lips, lids heavy with the nastiest intentions, you grab his hand and guide him on the bed, between your legs. Hovering over your naked body with his, you can feel his tip brushing against your clit, the sensation makes you gasp a little, already greedy for more.
“ but I don’t .. know how to do it. ” Choso surely feels a bit clumsy, his body rigid on yours since he clearly doesn’t have any idea of what to do. Despite the nature of the moment, you can’t help but find him incredibly sweet, it’s most certainly the first time you do it with a virgin.
A virgin Yokai.. I’ve officially gone insane.
“ don’t worry Cho, let me take care of you. ” with your hand you reach for his throbbing shaft, which you can feel twitching against your palm, then, against your slick hole impatient for a taste of his ghostly vigor. The tension Choso released from his muscles comes back the exact moment his tip slides in, a single taste of your velvety rings sucking him in turns out it’s enough to make him hide his face into your collarbone. “ gooood boy, just like that. ”
The deeper he slides in, the more delicious it feels to be stretched out by his thickness, his vein’s textures brushing against your weak spot right after his plump tip, ripping a moan out of your chest before he’s fully inside. Both your hands now find his upper body, one holding onto Choso’s strong back and the other entailing with the long black strands behind his neck; his cold breath shatters against your flush skin, and if he had a functioning heart, you know you’d feel it thumping against your own chest.
“ sssooo good so damn good – you’re so tight y\n.. ” the polyphonic tone of his words reach your ears even more shattered than before, dragging words with the weight of a pleasure he’d never felt in a span of time you couldn’t even conceive. Choso finds the strength to hold his bodyweight onto his forearm pressed on the mattress near your face, his lids so heavy he’s barely keeping them open to look at your spit slicked lips and flushed cheeks. “ can I move ? please, pleeeease let me. ”
“ of c-course Choso, go on.. want you deep inside me – ” it is your luck that he needs a moment to adjust and find his own rhythm, nonetheless, the feeling of his rock hard cock dragging over every ridge inside you drives you insane already, the memory of your previous orgasm imprinted very lively into your body.
And just like a puppy in rut, his hips begin to snap against yours, slamming fast and sloppy, chasing after something he’s way too desperate to experience on his own skin. This makes both of your similar, ina certain way : a human eager to being fucked by something supernatural, reaching for a level of pleasure no other man could bring you to, and a yokai, bound to an eternal mourning state, so desperate to feel something as intense as his sns of isolation.
It will be something interesting to think about in the future, when Choso will no longer be folding your body into a nasty mating press, ice cold hands hooking behind your knees pulling his cock all the way to the hilt, head smooching your womb as a claim.
“ I’m.. I feel something, ” Choso is properly crying out his words by now, the black line on his face, now wide enough to “cut” it in a perfect half, is bleeding so much it is starting to run down his neck and torso. “ nnngghh! it’s so intense ! ”
“ d-don’t hold back Cho – fuck me faster baby, come on ! ” your body was already on the verge of giving up under his hips frantic slams, and it was probably the way you started clenching around him that he’s fully losing his mind. It is a true sight you mark into your brain before you can realize, mushy and sloppy on a bed that seems about to give up under Choso’s neediness.
His torso falls onto yours once more, knees digging into the mattress as he suddenly lifts you to make your thighs straddle him, his arms wrapping so tight around your hips you know it’s going to mark you with bruises. You anchor your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as Choso hammers his cock so deep inside you, you’d swear he’s past your cervix.
Bright red marks get traced by your nails digging into his back muscles, the sound of wet bodies clapping against each other getting loud – you’d notice it and beg whoever in the sky to not let Yuji wake up to the noise, if only your brain wasn't all mushed up by Choso’s pummeling head inside you, a creamy ring forming around his base, your ass cheeks getting all red and bruised each time his balls slam against them.
“ I’m cu- fuuuuck I’m cumming – ” your mouth can no longer be used to form whatever word, your lips being shaped as a “o” and your tongue numb, even your eyes are rolled all the way back. The only logic thing you manage to do is biting down at Choso’s shoulder to suffocate the incredibly loud moan as soon as the orgasm shatters through your body like a furious thunder.
Choso stutterers a couple of thrusts more as he releases himself inside your throbbing cunt, liquids gushing out of you and directly on his tights and mattress. None of you speak, none of you dares to move, drained out of energy, the same that’s now drenching the sheets probably.
Your bodies feel glued together when you firstly try to fall back on the bed, still straddling his thighs, yous feeling too bruised to keep that position.
“ are you.. altright, Cho ? ” a small smile appears on your reddened lips, admiring the mess you both made of each other : his alabaster skin is shiny with what looks like some kind of sweat - can yokai actually do it ? - the ridges of his torso filled with whatever substance kept bleeding out of his face, some pitch black strands sticking to his forehead before he brushed them away with his hand.
Choso doesn’t answer at first, observing you with a heavy chest slowly moving up and down, until he begins to crawl at you. Like a predator. The color of his eyes it’s not fully black, and on his lips ? A devilish grin that makes your skin itch with spookiness.
Mean!Choso who everyone assumed was such a sweetie. Ask anybody on campus about him and always, without fail, they'd describe him as quiet, distant, and weird but never unkind— partially due to the fact that every day, with the time he had allotted for lunch, he'd go out on the groomed green grass of the quad and eat with his younger brother, Yuji. The girls in his courses found it so endearing, always singing things like "They’re so cute!" and “Maybe nice guys do exist!"
And maybe they did, but Choso wasn't one of them.
Mean!Choso who, for one, deliberately tortured you by fucking you in public where you couldn't risk making too much noise. With a rough hand, he held you down against a solid plastic door in the lecture halls bathroom. "Shit- I thought I told you to be fucking quiet." Your face was squished against the door as his fingers thrusted into you and stretched your crying walls. You whined, muffled slightly, "M'tryin! Promise, Cho-" He scoffed, a hand slapping over your mouth, "Tch, clearly not hard enough."
Mean!Choso who would also get you all riled up in public just to refuse you at home, knowing he was aching too. While you begged and rubbed your thighs against he each other, he adjusted himself and relieved his buldge from over his pants. Tears swelled up in your eyes as you watched, and he continued to rub himself against his hand while looking down at you crying on your knees over his dick.
Mean!Choso who used his size to his advantage. He smothered you with his heavy tons of muscle as he pinned you against the mattress. "Pussy suckin' me in so good, baby." He used one of his large hands to force your thighs open further, "Need ya' to spread a lil' wider for me- okay, pretty?" You nodded and his other hand shoved your face further in the pillow to quiet the noises you made when he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you. When one of your hands flew behind your back to get him to let up a bit, he smacked it away harshly and scolded, "Keep 'em clawing at the sheets."
Mean!Choso who needed to see your face everytime he came or was making you do the same. You had a little habit of hiding your face in his neck or the sheets when you started to feel overwhelmed by pleasure. He just pulled your head back by your scalp and gave you a light couple of taps on the cheek, "No. Need to see you." His hips knocked against yours particularly hard to emphasize his point. His tongue captured those salty tears that leaked from your eyes, which he was so desperate to see.
Mean!Choso who always maneuvered you into the craziest positions. He was particularly a fan of those in which he had almost total control over your body. His hands dug into the sweaty meat of your legs as he held you up and plunged into you in a filthy full nelson. His lips ghosted over your neck and glued wet kisses to your burning hot skin, "Heh- think she likes this one..." While still having you hoisted in the air, his index and ring teased your throbbing little clit. You squirmed and he tightened his grip, "Stay still, pretty. Don't wanna drop you." A mocking chuckle left him and he slowed his fast, offensive thrusts, focusing on getting deeper instead. The way he grazed your walls was so hot and addictive, you couldn't do anything but moan and wiggle your legs in the air.
Mean!Choso whose mouth was the filthiest part about him, both his words and his tongue. He always used two fingers to spread your folds open before licking a slow, long stripe from your pearl, which he lifted the hood to expose, down to the edge of your desperate hole. "Fuckin' greedy pussy...always wanting me touchin' her." He swirled his tongue around your clit in circular motions before pressing two fingers against your hole and sheaths them in uncharacteristically slow. "So sweet- hah. 'gonna die here, my baby." The wet friction of his tongue against your bud and delicious probing of his fingers had your back arching off the surface beneath you. When you threw your head back and bit your forearm, he planted a harsh slap on your cunt, "Nuh uh, keep your eyes on me."
Mean!Choso who loved to overstimulate you. Watching your face as you begged and cried out for him to slow down or give you a moment to breathe, his already thick length grew so much bigger and he got more rough in his actions. And when those holy drops of your tears spilled from your glossy eyes and leaked down your skin, he swore he was in the clouds. Your nails scratched at his skin and created thin, shallow valleys of scars, "C-Choso- ngh! P-Please..." His heaving chest, blooming with sweat, pressed to your own and kept you in place. "Shut up. You can take it." He silenced you with a rushed kiss to your lips.
Mean!Choso who also loved his gf very much and was a completely different person outside of intimacy! As soon as you routinely collapsed against the sheets, he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and got up to grab a glass to pour water in after getting out the shower, which he turned on next. He had grew accustomed to moving you while you slept, picking you up and sitting you on the toilet while he found a towel and change of clothes. After you were all clean and hydrated, he spooned behind you under fresh sheets with his nose pressed to your strawberry scented hair. He fell asleep, just as any other night, surrounded by your love and warmth.
a/n: ayyee first fic posted😛
lwk very self indulgent 😓😓 oh wait also there’s another version of this where there’s like an actual plot 😭 so lmk
There had been numerous times where Choso fantasized about living a quiet, domestic life with you. Ever since Yuji introduced you to him, Choso had been unable to get you out of his head. Every minute, his thoughts drifted back to the smallest details about you. The accidental brush of your hand against his sleeve, the way your eyes lit up with quiet awe whenever you watched him train, and how your smile alone sent warmth rushing through his body.
He thought about you far more than he could ever bring himself to say aloud in your presence.
Whenever you tagged along with him and Yuji, Yuji would always place you between the two of them, hoping to ease the distance Choso kept around himself before silence could settle in. Yet despite Yuji’s endless attempts to push him into confessing, Choso would always freeze the moment he stood face-to-face with you.
You were breathtaking.
Every word he rehearsed the night before fizzled out of his mind like carbonation escaping from a shaken soda can.
It took him hundreds of failed attempts to realize he simply could not do it. But you were his dream, his fragile, impossible dream, and Choso refused to give up on you so easily. He only needed more courage. Until then, he decided he would protect you instead. Like they say, actions speak louder than words.
So Choso stayed close in every way he knew how. He carried your bags before you could reach for them yourself. He lingered near doorways to make sure you walked safely behind him. And whenever the nights in Tokyo grew colder, he would silently drape his jacket over your shoulders despite Yuji teasing him for how obvious he was being.
And every single time, you smiled at him with that same gentle warmth that made his chest ache.
Sometimes, late at night, Choso allowed himself to imagine impossible things. A tiny apartment tucked away from the violence of jujutsu society. The smell of dinner filling the kitchen while you hummed softly beside him. Your fingers intertwined with his beneath warm blankets while rain tapped against the windows.
Peaceful, ordinary things. Things someone like him was never meant to have. Yet you made him selfish enough to want them anyway.
The promise tasted bitter in his mouth the moment he watched Sukuna hurl your body across the ruined streets of Shinjuku.
Time seemed to stop as blood streaked across the pavement. Choso sprinted toward you with panic clawing violently through his chest. The destruction around him blurred into meaningless noise as he dropped to his knees beside you and pulled you into his arms with trembling hands. Your body felt far too fragile against him, far too still.
“No… no, please…”
His voice broke apart before the words could fully leave him.
Tears blurred his vision as he watched consciousness slowly slip from your eyes. Blood stained his hands no matter how desperately he tried to stop it. He pressed trembling palms against your wounds as though sheer desperation alone could force life back into you. He could do nothing. Absolutely nothing.
His promise shattered before him with cruel ease.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, though he no longer knew what he was apologizing for. For being too weak. Too slow, too late.
Maybe he was apologizing for loving you at all.
Because the moment you entered his life, fate had already decided to take you from him.
Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something. Maybe his name, maybe goodbye. But the words never came. Your hand twitched weakly against his chest before all strength left your body completely.
And then came the silence. A horrible, suffocating silence that swallowed the entire world whole.
Choso stared at you in disbelief, waiting for your chest to rise again. Waiting for another breath that never came. His hands trembled harder as he pressed his forehead against yours, desperate enough to pretend your lingering warmth meant you were still there.
But warmth faded cruelly fast. He never got the chance to tell you he loved you before your pulse disappeared beneath his fingertips.
Grief hollowed him out from the inside as quiet sobs shook his body. The future he had secretly built inside his heart crumbled into dust before his eyes. No small apartment. No quiet mornings. No life beside you.
Somewhere amidst the agony, one thought consumed him whole.
He would have to spend the rest of his life remembering you longer than he had ever known you.
❝ what's worse than one idiot in love? two idiots in love. this poor friend group has had to suffer through their inability to communicate enough, but maybe this summer retreat is the perfect opportunity to finally confess some not so secret feelings❞
pairing friend!choso x f!reader
wc 10.9k
content mdni, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, mutual pining, multiple characters (gojo, sukuna, geto, shoko, nobara, yuuji, megumi), choso is down bad and everyone knows it, idiots in love, summer fun, jealousy, hidden feelings (from a few people mm...), love confessions, dry humping, soft dom choso, body worship, fingering, praise kink, handjob, oral (m receiving), piv sex, cuming inside, pet names (baby), aftercare, alcohol, crushes, minor injuries, friend group dynamics, soft intimacy
a/n this is a rework of an oldddd fic of mine, updated in my current writing style <3 i hope you enjoy! the choso art is by @torucider
The salty summer breeze was the first thing you noticed when your eyes started to blink awake.
It wasn't like the smell of the city, no, it was fresh and gentle, filling up your lungs with the promise of heat, fun, and sun ahead of this much anticipated holiday. Your arms stretched far above your head, and a long sigh escaped your lips as you felt every muscle loosen up atop this unfamiliar bed.
Slowly. Everything moved slowly.
Considering your hectic city life, slow felt good. Maybe this getaway really was a good idea, and you made a mental note to express your gratitude to Shoko for suggesting it and practically forcing you into saying yes.
She was right – this was exactly what you needed. The trip had barely started but you were already sold. All you needed was some quality time away with your best friends.
Doctors really did know best.
But among the chirping birds and the distant crashing waves, another noise caught your attention. More… human this time. A laugh you'd recognise anywhere.
It seemed your peaceful morning wouldn't last very long.
You turned to look at your phone with a groan, the screen shining a bright "7am" right in your face.
It was way too early.
But when did that ever stop Satoru Gojo?
You tried to ignore the noise for as long as you could, but eventually your interest was peeked by the commotion. It's not like you could avoid the group you chose to come on this vacation with forever, after all.
So you opened your door, leading straight to the open patio of the villa you and your friends had rented for a quiet summer getaway. Maybe it was your fault for ever believing that was a real possibility.
You were promised cocktails by the pool, sunbathing on the grass, and wholesome bonfire nights. Knowing this group, you had expected a little bit of chaos, sure – but why the hell was Gojo grinning like a maniac, with a water gun pointed directly at a drenched, and, not at all amused Sukuna at 7 in the fucking morning?!
“You have 3 seconds...” the pink haired one murmured under his breath, his voice a promise of a million ways he could and would kill Satoru.
You wondered how long Gojo had even been planted outside the other man's door to perform this ambush, considering Sukuna had barely stepped outside of his room before being attacked. From Gojo's wide smile, he was clearly pleased with how the plan went.
"One…" he started counting, but Satoru didn't move. Considering even this far away Sukuna made your blood run cold, you did respect Satoru for standing his ground.
"Two…" Sukuna snarled, and, to his dismay, was met with another splash right on his already soaked face.
He wouldn't bother counting to three.
Your white haired best friend ran backwards as fast as he could, still facing Sukuna to continue his unrelenting water gun assault. A loud "Worth it!" escaped his lips, but the sound was cut off half way when Sukuna began his chase.
Unlucky for him, it seemed it was all a trap – Suguru was already joining in the fray, jumping in from behind one of the deck chairs.
Well… it was nice to know them.
“Can we not start the day with murder...” groaned a voice coming from the door next to yours, and your brain immediately forgot about the war raging on a few feet away.
Choso stood there. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, torso in full display with nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low from his hips. It was rude to stare, but… come on, it was impossible not to.
I mean, looking like that should be illegal.
Choso's muscles were curved in all the right places, perfectly toned from his shoulder's to his abs and everywhere in between. Damn the universe for making your crush be this ridiculously hot – at least if he wasn't you'd have some hope of getting over it.
You had had a crush on Choso ever since his little brother Yuuji introduced him to the friend group. It was love at first sight, or, well, lust at first sight. The love thing came later. Not that you'd ever admit it to yourself or anyone else, of course.
Even though you went to bed thinking of him most nights, and could barely stand in his proximity without feeling the heat pooling around your cheeks. You kept telling yourself he was just a man, just attractive, you had crushed before and everything turned out fine. It just took time, but you could get over it.
I mean, remember how you had a crush on Gojo when you had just met? Looking at the idiot being tackled by Sukuna now, you could barely remember what that even felt like.
It would be fine. There was still hope.
But then Choso turned to you – his posture immediately straightened, and you could have sworn you saw the tips of his ears turn pink.
“Oh...morning” he said, smiling softly at you.
Damn that stupid smile.
You opened your mouth to reply, but another mess of pink hair suddenly peeked out from over his shoulder, way too excited for this hour. “Water gun fight?!” Yuuji yelled, running back into the room to find his own weapon.
Choso stepped out of the way with a sigh, watching his little brother run into the grass to join in Gojo's and Geto's bullying of Sukuna. You half expected him to join in just to protect him, but… he didn't.
He just stayed right there, dark eyes shifting from your face, to the floor, then back to your face. He almost seemed nervous, or maybe you were reading too much into it.
“Did you sleep well? I hope they didn’t wake you” he asked finally, that deep voice that made your knees weak.
You just nodded and smiled gratefully, always struggling to find words around him. It was really sweet of him to ask. But it didn't mean anything, Choso was sweet, everyone knew that, it's not like you were special or anything. He looked back at you with those careful eyes you loved so much, his mouth opening up to say something when–
He immediately got splashed with water.
“They made me” said a very guilty Megumi, on the other end of a water gun that was still pointing at Choso.
You brought a hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh at Choso's surprised expression, trying to keep your eyes from the way the water dragged along his muscles and dripped on the floor.
“Come on bro!” yelled Yuuji, still running along the grass. “Revenge!”
Choso let out a small chuckle that definitely said it’s too damn early for this, but went inside to find his water gun anyway. Just like you expected – he'd always rush to his little brothers side.
You actually really liked that about him.
So you stood by your door, taking in the scene as it evolved in front of you.
Sukuna had now seized Gojo’s weapon and split it in half, turning his attention to Suguru, who was running to refill his ammo with the water from the pool. From the way Satoru looked pleased, you guessed he was definitely hiding a spare water gun somewhere.
Yuuji and Megumi were running circles around the pool and trying to splash each other, the dark haired one definitely more invested than he let on. You watched Choso run to his brother's defense, aiming perfectly at the other one's back, before Yuuji betrayed him and splashed his neat twintails.
But Choso didn't mind, laughing along with it.
It's just a crush, you repeated to yourself like a mantra. Be cool.
Finally, you spotted the girls. They watched the scene from the bean bags on the other side of the grass, Shoko smiling with a cigarette already dangling from her lips, and Nobara wildly waving in your direction.
You couldn't help your smile at the way the morning had unfolded.
The sun was shining bright above your perfect little circle of chaos, and you wouldn’t change it for the world.
“Idiots, all of them” Nobara groaned as you sat down on the bright green bean bag next to hers. She had a hat on to protect from the sun, and the most stylish pajama set you think you had ever seen.“Who has that much energy at this hour?!”
"It's better for them to let it out early" Shoko hummed, blowing smoke into the breeze.
"I haven't even had coffee yet" Nobara complained, throwing her had back and covering it with the hat.
"I think it's kinda cute" you said, watching as they all ran around.
"Yeah, yeah" Nobara mocked. "We all know who you think is cute"
"What are you–"
Before you could complete the question, a jet of water hit you square across the face, splashing everywhere from your chest to the girls sitting next to you.
“What the hell?!" you groaned, casting a very mean stare at the white haired menace in front of you. Of course it would be him.
“Oops” Gojo hummed, a litte guilty. As expected, a fresh water gun was already in hand. “I missed?”
“Who exactly were you trying to hit?” you growled at your best friend, motioned to the others still splashing each other on the other side of the patio. If this was his attempt at getting you to join in the fun, it wasn't working.
The girls stared at him too, soaked and annoyed, but suddenly Nobara's eyes widened and she passed you her hat, motioning to cover your chest with it. Only then had you noticed.
For fucks sake. You were wearing white.
“You pervert!” you yelled, throwing a sandal at your best friend, though he caught it with ease.
“Just a happy coincidence, princess!” Gojo retorted, ducking from the sandals Nobara and Shoko threw his way too. "Ow! I'm sorry! I'll give you my shirt, here, I'm not even looking–"
The commotion easily caught everyone else's attention.
“I swear to God, Satoru–” you growled, but as he promised, Satoru had already thrown his soaking shirt for you to shield yourself with, a chorus of apologies still leaving his lips. "I really didn't realise–"
“What’s going on?” Choso cut in. Water dripped from his dark strands, and his breathing was a little heavily from rushing over so fast. But he suddenly stopped, dark eyes immediately narrowing at Satoru's half naked body standing over your group, and his wet dark shirt clinging on to your body.
His eyebrow twitched slightly and his jaw clenched, but he still looked at you with kindness. “Are you ok?” he asked you directly, completely ignoring everything else.
Nobara pointed at Gojo, whose mouth fell open in a silent gasp. “Satoru was being a pervert” she deadpanned, as Shoko nodded solemnly.
“I said I’m sorry!” Satoru yelled, putting both his hands up in surrender. "We all make mistakes!"
“You’re an idiot” Choso rolled his eyes at his friend, holding out his hand to help you stand up.
“And you’re too obvious” Gojo retorted with a wink, running off before he could catch the way Choso snarled at his comment.
But whatever grimace Choso threw in Gojo's direction, it was all gone when you accepted his hand. Suddenly, his focus was completely locked on you.
"I'm ok" you smiled, the touch lingering for a little longer than necessary. “Needed to get changed anyway”
Physically, your body was going through your luggage, looking for something to change into, but your mind was gone – the butterflies still danced in your stomach, reminding you of how quickly Choso had come to your rescue just now. At the way his hand fit so perfectly around yours. And God he looked so good in those–
“Am I interrupting your spiral?” Nobara clapped her hands to get your attention. You had completely forgotten her and Shoko had come in after you. “Are you gonna answer the question or not?”
You pursed your lips, exploring your memories but coming out empty handed. “Sorry, what was the question?” you asked awkwardly.
"We lost her" Shoko sighed.
“I swear to God...” Nobara exhaled, standing up to join you by the suitcase. She looked over the mess with a hand on her hip and another under her chin, analyzing the options like this was extremely important. Finally, she seemed to have made her choice, raising a swimming costume up near your head.
"If you want impress him, this one”
You blinked up at her, opening your mouth to ask who, but everything about the way she glared at you screamed don't play dumb with me.
So you snapped the swimwear from her hands, throwing yourself on the bed next to Shoko. “What was your question?” you sighed, staring at the ceiling so your friends couldn't read the embarrassment in your face.
“I asked if you’ve fucked him yet” she declared, matter of fact.
“Nobara! No!” you sat up so fast the blood rushed to your head, putting your hands forward to motion her to be quiet. But the other two just stared at you, waiting. “He’s not like that" you completed with a surrendering exhale.
"You guys are not together?" Shoko raised an eyebrow.
You just shook your head side to side, biting the inside of your cheek. "We haven’t even kissed" you admitted.
The two gasped at this very unexpected new information.
“You’re joking” Nobara crossed her arms. “He looks at you like you’ve been married for decades already”
“Well, he hasn’t said anything to me and I...I don’t know!" you stood up, pacing across the room, finally able to get these feelings off your chest. "What if we’re wrong and he doesn’t even like me?"
“Don’t be an idiot. Everyone knows" Nobara huffed out.
"You’re the only one who’s questioning it” Shoko agreed.
That made you stop pacing.
“Everyone?” you asked.
“Everyone” Nobara repeated. “It’s disgusting”
That at least got a laugh out of you. “Thanks” you murmured, looking down at your hands. You didn't even know if this realisation made you feel happy or anxious – the stakes were just too high.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever” Nobara waved it off, walking towards the door. “But seriously, that one” she completed, pointing at the swimming costume in your hand.
It was a little more… bold than you would normally wear, but hey – maybe it was about time you took your friends advice. They were the ones witnessing you fall apart over this crush for years already anyway.
Maybe it was time to be a little more bold.
You stepped out of your room a few minutes later. Hair fixed with a pair of sunglasses on top, and the swimming costume Nobara had chosen expertly hugging your figure.
Every head snapped to you as you walked towards the group.
Nobara looked proud. Shoko nodded in encouragement. Satoru let out a wolf whistle, and Choso… looked very much not ok.
In fact, he looked like something had short circuited in his brain.
“She broke him” Gojo whispered, earning a laugh from Suguru next to him.
“Pathetic” Sukuna just rolled his eyes.
“Over here!” Nobara waved with a wicked smile of approval.
Most of the group seemed to be half asleep already, all sunbathing by the pool after a busy morning with all the running around and death threats. You could swear Yuuji was snoring softly, distracting Megumi from his book every few seconds, who looked over at him with an annoyed sigh every time.
"Nice of you to join us" Satoru grinned, moving over to the side to open up space for you.
Right next to Choso.
Had the girls been right about everyone knowing?
"You all look half asleep" you rolled your eyes, sitting next to the dark haired man, but trying to avoid eye contact at all costs. If they all knew…
Did Choso know too?
Did he think you were an idiot?
"We're recharging" Suguru nodded, that casual smile of his.
"Tch. Weak" Sukuna muttered from the side, resting his hand on two bent elbows as he relaxed on the grass.
"You were asleep ten minutes ago" Suguru retorted.
"I wasn't" he growled. He probably was. "The only one asleep is Itadori"
That seemed to wake him up like a spell. "I'm awake!" he said, standing up so fast Megumi almost dropped his book on the pool. "Is it time for another water gun fight?" he asked eagerly.
"I don't have any more guns left" Satoru pouted, while Sukuna opened an evil grin.
Yuuji started listing off different games you could all play, and little by little, everyone seemed to regain the energy. Gojo barely let the man speak, cutting in every half second to offer his own suggestions or agree excitedly with what he was already proposing.
Everyone was joining in the conversation, apart from… you and Choso. Who looked at you like he definitely wanted to say something, but wasn't quite sure on how.
"You look beautiful” he said finally, when your eyes happened to meet. You didn't even mean to, but it seemed neither of you could keep avoiding this dance for too long. “That’s a great colour on you” he completed, cheeks growing an adorable shade of red.
You hoped he couldn't see in your face the way your heart was leaping out of your chest.
“Thank you, Choso” you smiled, biting the inside of your cheek.
“So it’s settled!” Gojo snapped your attention back to the group, clapping his hands dramatically. “The first game is chicken fight – the winning team gets control over the speaker for a full 2 hours!”
Shoko and Suguru immediately exchanged a conspiratorial nod. Megumi let out an exasperated sigh, but didn't argue. Nobara rolled her eyes and asked if Gojo was thirteen. Yuuji fist bumped the air, excited like a golden retriever, and Sukuna seemed too enticed by the reward to object.
Choso, in a moment of courage, turned to you, swallowing hard. “Do you want to–”
“You’re with me, princess!” Gojo scooped you up before Choso could finish his sentence. “Let's talk strategy!”
The sun shone bright up above where the four teams met in the middle of the swimming pool, ready for the first brawl.
Nobara announced there was no way in hell she was getting on anyone’s shoulders, so she lunged in the shade as the self appointed referee. "Remember, no fowl play" she instructed. "Did you hear that, Sukuna?"
The pink haired man only rolled his eyes, the only indicator that he was listening.
Team number one was you and Gojo: Team The Honoured Ones. You sat tall on his shoulders, as Satoru held you down with firm hands on your thighs, pretending not to notice the way Choso looked murderously at him.
Team number two was Yuuji and Megumi – the latter looking like he'd rather be anyone else. Their team name was Black Flash, which Megumi only agreed to so Yuuji would stop talking.
Team number three was Shoko and Suguru, who looked far too ready for this. Shoko barely waved where she sat atop Suguru's shoulders, the two the very image of serene confidence. Their team name was Uzumaki, suggested by Suguru.
Team number four was Choso and Sukuna: The Cursed Duo. After a long argument, Choso relented and agreed to sit on Sukuna’s shoulders. He had a bit of a pout on his face, you suspected because Yuuji had gone straight to Megumi, but when he saw you – it changed into a smile.
You were halfway through waving at him before Satoru tapped your thigh incessantly. "Focus, princess" he complained. "You're on my team"
If only you weren't resting atop his shoulders, you would have noticed a little pout in Satoru's handsome face. It wasn't like him to be this possessive over you, but it's not like you weren't used to his taunting and teasing.
"I was just assessing the competition" you quickly recovered yourself. "Who are we going for first?"
Satoru hummed underneath you, pondering the question. "I doubt Choso will go against Yuuji, so I can only assume they'll come for us or Suguru" he started, like a professional tactician. "I say we go for Yuuji and Megumin to avoid Sukuna and your boyfriend"
"My wha–"
"I don't trust Suguru and Shoko, look at them" he immediately cut in, bringing your attention to the other two, still calmly waiting for the brawl too start, not even exchanging a word, like they could speak telepathically. "They're too calm" Satoru squinted, suspicion all over his voice.
"You're right" you hummed, started to feel a little nervous. "But what if they come for us?"
"True" Satoru sighed. "We should be ready for anything"
You nodded, swallowing thickly as you prepared mentally.
"Ready?" Nobara yelled from her reclining chair, laying back to enjoy the sun. "Go!"
The word had barely left her lips before Sukuna was lunging towards Satoru. Clearly someone still wanted to take revenge on the water gun attack from earlier.
And to your complete dismay, Team Uzumaki was quickly moving towards you too.
"Satoru!" you yelled, but his hands were strong where he held you down.
"Fight, princess!" he urged, and the sound of someone sinking was enough to snap your attention back to the game.
Team Black Flash hadn't survived the first charge, with Megumi collapsing from on top of Yuuji before they had barely moved an inch.
At least that left you with only two other teams to worry about. But Yuuji sinking had caught Choso's attention, distracting him.
This was a perfect opportunity.
But before you could extend your hands to try a shy push at Choso's shoulders, Suguru had already reached your team.
"You're getting slow, Satoru" he taunted, Shoko immediately grabbing you by the shoulder's with a non chalant "sorry".
You managed to interlock your hands with hers, the two of you laughing and not trying all that hard to push the other off. Suddenly, though, your body sank deeper, and Shoko's face twisted in surprise as she plummeted off Suguru.
"Fault!" Nobara yelled. "You're not supposed to kick the opposing teams, Satoru"
"That was never a rule!" he yelled, as Suguru and Shoko emerged, scowling at their white haired friend and his cheese eating grin.
Following a quick discussion where Sukuna agreed brute force from the base players should be allowed, Team The Honoured Ones were named the victors of the first round.
Naturally, Shoko and Suguru decided they'd rather have a smoke in the sun instead, and withdrew from the competition, calling fowl play.
"They're just bad losers" Satoru sighed, already helping you up on his shoulders again.
This meant there were only three teams standing this time.
Megumi and Yuuji had decided to switch positions, with Yuuji now standing proud on poor Megumi's shoulders. You and Gojo exchanged a glance, knowing very well what this meant – Sukuna and Choso were definitely coming towards you first.
"Ready!" Nobara called again. "Go!"
As expected, Sukuna and Choso rushed towards you – and Satoru rushed towards them.
“You’re going down!” Gojo yelled at the other team, wide smile all over his face.
“Try it” Sukuna retorted with an evil grin.
While you and Choso looked very much terrified on top of the other two.
Your hands snapped forwards, trying to reach for your crush even while your whole body felt as if electrocuted from the sheer anticipation of being that close to him.
The fact that Satoru kept waving you around frantically didn't help – every time you thought you had an opening, you were somehow swerved in the other direction.
What the hell were he and Sukuna doing down there?!
You finally managed to reach your hands towards Choso, but he blocked your attack with a loud "I'm sorry! Did I hurt you? I–"
“You have to push her” Sukuna growled from beneath him, clearly growing angrier and angrier at his teammates inability to harm you.
But just as he opened his mouth to complain again, his pink head disappeared into the water, taking your crush with him.
And thus, Team Cursed Duo was defeated.
"No complaining, Sukuna" Nobara clicked her tongue as the latter reemerged and immediately went for Gojo's throat. "You're the one who agreed to it"
The three teams regrouped for the third and final round.
The rules were clear this time: any attacks coming from the base players would result in immediate disqualification, and bluetooth speaker rights would be revoked for the time being. It seemed his defeat had changed Sukuna's mind fairly quickly.
"Don't worry, we got this" Satoru reassured from under you, and you offered another proud nod.
Your heart still beat fast from last brawl, and more so from how close you and Choso had been.
It was ridiculous, you felt ridiculous – but somehow, you thought you might not be the only one.
Because Choso himself seemed very preoccupied with looking anywhere else but at you, his gaze firmly fixed on the water and the sky and his brother like the whole world was far too interesting.
You tried to catch his gaze, give him a thumbs up that indicated he didn't hurt you, but every time you happened to catch his eyes he averted them straight away. And you could swear the tips of his ears were turning pink.
"Choso is acting weird" you said to Satoru, keeping your voice low.
You noticed the mess of white hair move from between your thighs, before he let out a low chuckle. "Someone's jealous" he hummed, amused.
"Jealous?" you questioned, tilting your head. It was true Choso didn't have his usual calm expression, and his arms were firmly crossed over his middle while Sukuna tried to argue some strategy. His jaw was locked tight, face turning into a tiny grimace.
It was adorable how he seemed to have no control over his facial expressions.
But…jealous?
"Of what?" you asked again, and you heard Satoru scoff.
"I'm pretty handsome, you know" you could feel him roll his eyes without even having to see it.
"Sure, but" you retorted. "Why would he be jealous of you? We're friends"
To your surprise, Satoru didn't argue again. You expected a tease, for him to say something along the lines of you're not my type anyway. But… it didn't come. If anything, you could have sworn you heard him sigh.
"Of course" he agreed, a few seconds too late. "Now focus, princess"
Nobara was already raising a hand, and motioning the beginning of the third brawl.
Team Black Flash were steadier this time, completely ignoring you and heading to Team Cursed Duo instead. "Come on bro, show me what you got!” Yuuji yelled, putting his hands up to reach for his brother.
Choso's hands locked with his as he tilted his body to the side. He was trying his hardest to not hurt Yuuji, of course, but the pressure was too much for poor Megumi to handle, and he ended up sinking after putting up a fair fight. Later, everyone agreed it was a honourable defeat.
"Yuuji? You ok?" while Choso was distracted by scanning the water for his brother, Team Honoured Ones attempted a sneak attack.
Satoru tried his best to be quiet, though that wasn't really his forte. Right as you were getting ready to push Choso, Sukuna turned around in the blink of an eye – and your hands ended up finding your opponent's chest instead of his broad shoulders.
Choso’s body jolted straight like the sudden contact had electrocuted him. He instinctively reached for your wrists, closing his large palms around them when you welcomed it with a laugh. Encouraged by your playful smile, he began trying to tip you over, but you were stronger than you looked.
Sukuna wasn't as amused, though. With a hinge of his hips, he tipped his weight forwards – and before you knew it, Choso was falling into you and you were falling backwards, losing all balance.
Gojo tried his best to hold on to your legs and stabilise you, but was quickly overpowered by the weight of both you and Choso falling fast, and soon he was submerged too.
The water filled your open mouth as you sunk slowly, your hands desperately reaching forwards, until it found his. Choso had already locked your hands together, his other hand finding your waist to pull you out of the water as fast as possible.
"I'm sorry" he panted, completely drenched himself, helping you hold on to the edge of the pool.
Despite the coughing from the sudden water you had inhaled, you still managed to laugh. "Don't worry about it" you waved it off.
“Team Cursed Duo wins” Sukuna announced, but Choso didn't seem that interested in celebrating.
Despite the enduring sunlight, night time eventually came, bringing with it a more forgiving breeze to squelch the heat.
Because of the changing rules during chicken fight, no one could decide who had the rights over the speaker. Sukuna and Satoru had spent a good thirty minutes complaining, all the while Suguru took control of the music.
Nobara and Shoko were busy making everyone cocktails, but after you had been the test subject to a few too many failed attempts, you decided to excuse yourself to the furthest bean bag, and just let the summer breeze tickle your skin before your friends could get you too drunk.
Right now, you were in a perfect state, somewhere between tipsy and just high on the day's excitement.
Choso had been gone for a while, along with Megumi and Yuuji. It was sweet how close he was to his brother and his brother's best friend, but you couldn't deny you found yourself just…looking for him.
Every time you heard a shuffle of feet or a noise far ahead, you wondered if it was him. Looking for his presence somewhere up in the clouds and also in the nearby voices, your mind conjuring up a million scenarios and things you could talk to him about, despite being too shy to just tell him how you feel.
Was this even normal?
Did everyone with a crush just forget to function when the object of their admiration was near?
You groaned a little, sinking deeper into the chair and just staring at the stars above. They were so bright over here. So much more so than in the city.
It was only the first day, but you already didn't want to ever leave.
“Can I sit here?” a voice finally came, and you had to blink your eyes repeatedly to make sure you weren't day dreaming again, lost in one of your wild scenarios that would never come true.
No, Choso was actually standing there. Handsome and tall against the moonlight, his distracting abs now concealed in a compression shirt that was too tight for your own good.
And he was smiling.
He always smiled around you.
"Sure" you nodded, and he took a seat in the beanbag in front of you. He was clearly too large for it, and you laughed a little at seeing him awkwardly try to fit, but his adorable pout only made you laugh more.
"These aren't very comfortable" he sighed, extending his legs to try and regain some balance. They were so close to yours they almost touched – almost.
"We can move to the chairs, if you like" you suggested, though that would mean going closer to the group.
You didn't want that, but part of you also wanted to know if he did.
As much as everyone teased, you were still not that convinced he had a crush on you too. It would simply be too good to be true.
When was reality ever that kind?
Choso turned around, looking for where the other chairs were scattered. "I'm alright here" he said, despite his clear discomfort. "…If you are?" he added then, bringing his dark eyes to you.
"I'm alright here, too" you smiled.
"Good" Choso nodded awkwardly, his gaze moving from his hands, to where your legs almost touched, and then back to your face. The silence between you was a little awkward, sure, but it was far from quiet – at least on your end, the sound of your heart was loud enough to fill the whole space.
"Are you enjoying the holiday?" you asked.
"Yes" he nodded. "I'm glad Yuuji convinced me to come"
So were you.
"How did he convince you?" you asked lightheartedly, but from Choso's reaction you would have thought you just asked him something deeply personal.
"He, uh–" his hand came to rub the back of his neck, the curve of his bicep immediately catching your attention. Was this a plan to distract you again?!
Surely not. Choso wasn't one to play games – all his endearing awkwardness was exactly who he was.
"He said you were coming" he finally admitted, with a sigh.
You felt your brows furrow close, mouth opening before you even knew what to say. "You came because of me?"
"Um…yeah, I did" he confirmed, staring at his hands.
"So you weren't excited to hang out with Sukuna and Gojo?" you tried to tease, and he finally looked at you with that grimace you loved.
"Definitely not" he said, and you both laughed.
It was a gorgeous sound.
On the other side of the patio, your friends were all lost in casual conversation. Megumi and Yuuji had now rejoined the group, playing some kind of card game on the grass with Nobara. Shoko and Sukuna were talking about something, or, Sukuna was talking about something, but she seemed happy enough to listen. Satoru and Suguru were the ones standing a little further away, talking about something that seemed serious, but who could guess with those two.
"Did you hurt your hand?"
Your head snapped back to Choso, and you noticed it was only you who was distracted looking at your friends. He was focused on your wrist, and how you rubbed it softly with your other hand, flexing your fingers open and close.
You hadn't even noticed you were doing it.
"Oh" you tried to wave it off. “I think I fell at a weird angle during chicken fight” you admitted with an awkward laugh.
Choso didn't laugh, though.
“Let me see” he squinted his eyes, opening his palm for you to take.
You placed your hand on top of his, holding in your breath as Choso inspected your skin. He closed both hands around yours, focused on looking for any sign of bruising or broken skin. It didn't even hurt that much, but you weren't saying no to an excuse to have him look at you like that.
And you watched him – how beautiful he looked with his hair down, falling all messy around his handsome face; still a bit wet from the pool and clinging on to his forehead. His skin felt soft and warm against yours, the perfect contrast to the cool night breeze.
Choso's eyes darted to yours quickly, shyly, but you didn't avert yours. And so he didn't either.
How odd that this was the most tender moment the two of you had exchanged so far, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to be fully present. It felt like a dream, like you were floating high above the clouds – if it was the alcohol's doing, or the adrenaline from the day, or simply the way Choso's eyes looked at yours, you weren't sure.
But everything about this felt… magical.
Slowly, carefully, Choso closed your hand, satisfied that you weren't actually hurt. But then, he brought it close to him, as you watched with wide open eyes – as he left the tiniest kiss on your knuckles.
His face went all red, finally breaking the eye contact, and you could swear you heard his heart beat just as loud as yours.
Maybe all your friends had been right, after all.
“If you do it again, I might forget it hurts" you teased, earning a warm smile from him.
“Good" Choso hummed. "Then I’ll keep going”
Your breathing hitched as Choso touched his lips against your knuckles again, firmer this time. You instinctively opened your palm, an invitation, and Choso interlaced your fingers together, looking at you under his dark eyelashes.
“Do you… want to go somewhere else?” he whispered, and you nodded yes.
You opened the door to your room, hoping no one else from the group had noticed the two of you sneaking away. If you had only looked back you might have noticed Shoko's approving smile and Nobara's whispered "finally", as well as Satoru's puzzling stare. But you weren't exactly paying attention to them right now.
Right now, it was just you and Choso.
"Sorry it's a bit messy" you said awkwardly, noticing you hadn't had the time to clear away all the clothes you had left on the bed, in your haste to find an appropriate swimming costume. You quickly shifted your attention to it, anything to get you away from how nervous you felt, and started putting everything away again.
Refusing to look at how Choso stood awkwardly in the middle of your room, unsure of what to do. "It's fine" he tried to say, though you were hard at work. "You should see Yuuji's room"
You smiled, finishing up and placing the suitcase back on the floor. Now you really had to turn back to him.
"Do you want to get some fresh air, maybe?" you asked, again trying to calm your beating heart. There was a little private balcony at the back, with a loveseat that would do just fine. Some air would definitely help your nerves.
"Yeah" Choso agreed, following you out into the night again.
As predicted, the breeze did help you breathe easier. You sat on the loveseat right by the back wall, shuffling your feet nervously on the ground; but Choso didn't join you.
"I've been meaning to talk to you" he said, putting his hands inside his pockets. Were his trembling like yours were?
"About what?" you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible, hoping he couldn't hear the anticipation in your voice.
"I just…" he started, clearly unsure of what he even wanted to say. "I've been meaning to say something, and I'm not sure if it's the best time, but–"
"You can tell me" you cut in, hands clasped together and sweating embarrassingly.
Choso's eyes narrowed at you, clearly having noticed how odd you were acting. But then he smiled. And then his smile turned into a chuckle that you joined into.
Two idiots, weren't you?
"Do you remember that one time we went to the movies?" Choso started, a little more confident than before. "The first time, maybe a couple weeks after Yuuji introduced me to your group?"
"I remember" you nodded, turning your head at the memory. You were surprised Choso even recalled it, considering how long ago it had been.
"It was some horror movie Yuuji picked" he laughed, shuffling a little. "He was so excited, but I… I could barely look at the screen. When he asked me about my favourite scene later I had to lie, and I felt terrible. I never lie to my brother"
You were a little confused, but listened to what he was telling you with a focused expression. "Why weren't you paying attention?" you asked.
Choso finally looked at you. Breathing in, and out. Taking his time.
"Because you were sitting next to me" he admitted finally. "And all I could think about was how pretty you looked"
Your mouth fell open in complete surprise, but Choso kept going.
“You... you’re incredible, you know” he exhaled. “I’ve always thought that. Every time. And the way you smiled today…"
He took a breath to steady himself, his eyes closing as if lost in memory, and the sweetest smile on his lips.
“Seeing how you smiled today made me wish I could be around to watch you smile like that every time” he continued. “It made me wish I could be the one making you smile that way”
Oh.
Oh.
You were sure your hands were still trembling, but you couldn't really feel them. It was like time itself… had just stopped.
“You are” you heard yourself say though your throat was squeezed tight, and then the dip of the loveseat as Choso settled next to you.
"Hey" he said softly, one hand finding yours where it rested nervously on your lap, the other cupping your cheek. "Don't cry" he begged you, using the pad of his thumb to dry the tears threatening to fall.
"I didn't realise I was" you laughed at yourself, leaning into his hand. "I think I'm just happy"
"Really?" Choso was the one whose voice sounded a little strained this time, but his face had a smile to match yours.
"Really" you nodded. "I didn't think you felt it too"
Choso's bottom lip pushed forward a little in a small pout hearing you say that. "How could I not?" he asked.
How could you not?
Right then, you weren't sure if you felt like an idiot for dismissing all your friends claims and waiting this long, or if the surprise just outweighed anything else.
Why did you automatically expect good things wouldn't happen to you?
Because right now, the best person you could have dreamed of was staring at you with stars in his eyes. And he wasn't pulling back.
Neither were you.
"I like you too" you finally admitted, the words you struggled with for so long finally leaving your lips. In your worse nightmares, Choso turned away or mocked you – but in reality, he didn't do any of that.
If anything, you didn't think you had ever seen him this happy.
"You do?" he repeated, like he just wanted to hear you say it a million more times.
"Yes, you idiot" you laughed at yourself. "Apparently everyone knows" you added, hoping to share some of the shame you felt.
"Yuuji said that too" he sighed, embarrassed. So that's why he had disappeared with his brother for so long.
Despite being mortified by the prospect, the two of you shared an easy laugh. One that was like a weight off your shoulders.
"I wasn't sure if I should do it here, I mean–" he started to say, interlacing your hands together. "I didn't want to make the trip awkward"
"I'm happy you did" you reassured. There was no way you would have survived this trip otherwise… not with Choso constantly half naked around you.
"You are?" he swallowed thickly, shocked at how this had gone better than expected. You wondered what his expectations were, if he also had nightmares as bad as yours.
Instead of answering, you shifted forwards a little forwards, resting your forehead on his as you let the tears flow as they needed to. Choso was right there to catch each one, with his lips this time – kissing every inch of your cheeks as the two of you breathed together like a question waiting for an answer.
When you opened your eyes and smiled at him again, Choso closed the gap.
His lips found yours tentatively at first, nothing but a soft brush as the two of you held your breath. It was when you finally exhaled deeply that he pressed against you more firmly, and your lips parted to invite him in.
You were finally doing this.
Not even your most wonderful dreams could have been better than this.
Choso explored your mouth like he was dying to learn the shape of you, your taste, every smooth curve of your lips. His hands stayed on your cheeks, enjoying how warm and soft you were, still dragging each tear away.
"Cho…" you whispered his name, pulling him into you, all the invitation he needed to deepen the kiss.
You wrapped both your hands around his neck, leaning so far back you almost fell from the loveseat, but Choso was right there to pull you back. His hands hovered, a little unsure before landing on your waist, steadying you, digging into your skin with sweet reverence and desire.
"You're so beautiful" he hummed again, like he couldn't believe the two of you were finally here. The kiss was a little messy, but between each awkward bump of your noses the two of you laughed, remembering the years of affection that had led to this moment.
You pulled back a little, bringing your hands to caress his cheeks instead. "I really like your tattoo" you laughed a little, brushing your thumb over the dark stripe right above his nose. "Is now a good time to tell you that?"
Choso laughed, leaning his forehead on yours. "You could have told me anytime" he said, rocking his head side to side and enjoying where it touched yours.
"I think I was embarrassed" you admitted, biting your lower lip.
"Why?" he asked, tilting your head up so he could look in your eyes again.
How were you supposed to think of anything else when he kept looking at you like that?
"I didn't think you felt the same" you admitted, nose scrunching at how silly it all felt now.
Choso's response was to press your lips together, firmly now, a promise. "I always did" he whispered against you, making all the hairs in the back of your neck stand up.
"Why didn't you tell me?" you taunted, playfully pushing his chest back, and enjoying how that only made him pull you in more.
"I thought you might be… with someone else" he admitted, digging his hands just a little further into your waist.
"It was always you" you confessed this time, a little shy.
Choso blinked at you like that was the last thing he expected you to say.
He kissed you again – deeper, more passionate. Before you knew it, he was on top of you, your two bodies far too big for the small two-seater, but he was very careful to not crush you with his weight.
"Is this ok?" he pulled back a little, giving you space to readjust underneath him.
You nodded with a smile, wrapping both legs around his waist and pulling him back into you. The poor man blushed from his neck to the tips of his ears, but he eagerly sank into you, rocking his hips against yours in a way you did not expect from sweet Choso.
Still, his touch was respectful, careful not to touch anywhere that could be too much too soon. His hands remained steady on your waist – but the growing bulge where his hips pressed pressed into you was getting harder and harder to ignore.
If he wanted you just as much as you wanted him… it was only right to be a little more forward, right?
So you bit his lip playfully, not enough to hurt but enough that his dark eyes snapped open in surprise. Your legs closed around his waist again and your hand moved down to where his was, still resting on your middle, gently encouraging it even further down.
His breathing completely stopped, but Choso allowed you to move it for him, slowly dragging his palm from your waist to your hips and, finally, settling on your thigh. Like a match had just been struck, Choso let out a guttural, deep grunt as he squeezed your flesh, lowering himself down to kiss you again.
His hips kept dragging into you with barely contained desire, all sense out the window now that you gave him permission to touch you in that way. You matched his rhythm, breath growing more and more shallow as you felt the heat pooling between your thighs.
"Fuck, Cho" you moaned, nails digging deep into his shoulders that you used to stabilize yourself. "Feels good"
"Y-yeah?" he moaned, almost a desperate whimper with how bad he wanted this.
You didn't bother responding – your body was already moving on its on, urged by this primal need you had for him. Your hands moved to remove his shirt, not caring at all that the little clothes you had on were askew, revealing far more of you than Choso thought he'd see this early on.
And you noticed the way Choso looked embarrassingly away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by staring. You looked down at your swimming costume, then back up at him with a wicked smile.
“You can take it off if you want” you suggested, perching yourself up on your elbows.
Choso wasted no time – he swallowed hard, and with a hypnotized nod, moved to undo the swimming costume you still had on.
The fabric fell down, revealing your bare chest to him. Choso looked somewhere between drunk and completely awestruck, with the way he softly gasped at you, like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"Can I?" he asked, a small drop of sweat trickling from his temple.
You smiled, tangling your hand onto his dark strands to urge him forwards. Choso relinquished with no push back, sinking his face into your breasts and closing both hands on them.
"Cho…" you moaned out his name, encouraging him further, all restraint out the window.
The sound of his name from your lips drove Choso absolutely insane, his large hands roughly palming your mounds as his mouth tried to give similar attention to each side, sucking and licking every inch of you. "Fuck, baby…" he whimpered between them, making you moan at the affectionate nickname.
Your hand tightened on his head, pulling his hair slightly, though it only seemed to turn him on even more. Your back arched against the love seat and Choso took the opportunity to slide a forearm behind you, making you arch into him further.
He sucked on your already hard nipples, playing and rolling it with his tongue as his eyes moved to your face, so beautiful and needy for him.
Your thighs were still squeezing his hips, his rhythm against your clothed cunt never faltering. It felt good, really good, but you wanted more.
"Cho" you called, biting your lips at him.
"Yeah, pretty?" he asked, face all flushed and eyes dilated with pure desire. Even when addressing you, he refused to stop his worship of your body.
"You can take it off" you repeated your words from earlier, hoping he'd understand what you meant. "All of it" you completed, with a roll of your hips, making a point to press against his bulge.
Choso swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath in. "You…want me to?" he asked.
Maybe it wasn't the best idea – your friends were somewhere outside, probably too drunk to care, but surely someone would notice your absence soon enough.
At least, that's what your brain would have thought if you weren't in the exact position you had been dreaming about for years.
You wanted Choso. Needed him. For far longer than you cared to admit.
So you were ok with being greedy.
"I want you to" you rolled your hips again, and that was all Choso needed.
He nodded, immediately bringing his hands to finish removing your clothes. He was clearly nervous, but when he finally began to pull the fabric down, he did it so slow it felt like torture.
Was Choso also trying to seize the moment? The thought alone made you giggle. To want someone who wanted you just as bad… it was more than you ever thought you could get.
And there was no denying Choso wanted you bad.
“You’re going to kill me...” he sighed when he revealed all of you, laying beautifully onto the loveseat, eager for him. He pushed himself back on his knees, taking his time to admire you like a painting.
His defined abs glistened in the moonlight, distracting, stealing all your focus. Choso was built so beautifully, like he had been sculpted by the gods themselves.
And it seemed he thought the same of you.
"Fuck…" he muttered as one hand dragged from your cheek, to your collarbone, to your navel. Choso took his time exploring every inch of you, letting his warm touch ghost over your skin before he took things further, like he knew he was already addicted and wanted to savour each moment.
When his hand finally reached between your thighs, he found you dripping.
"You're–" his words cut out as his fingers played with your heat, coating himself in your slick, your legs parting eagerly. His head dripped forwards, bangs covering his eyes, trying as best as he could to control himself.
Until he couldn't anymore.
Carefully, he slid one thick digit inside of you. It found no resistance, sinking into you so eager and wet, earning a loud moan that had his head snapping back to yours.
“Like this, baby?” he asked so sweetly, despite how he was already adding another finger inside to stretch you further. His fingers moved slowly at first, but soon they pumped into you faster, and faster, and you had to bring your hands to his thick forearm to brace yourself.
“Mmmh yea” you moaned, squeezing the veins that protruded from his skin, his dark eyes completely locked on where your bodies met.
"You're taking it so well" he praised, groaning when it made you clench around him. "Fuck–You like that?"
You nodded, biting your lip as you felt his movements become rougher, faster. "So beautiful like this" he praised you again.
Your back arched off the seat, and Choso again used the opportunity to snake his other arm around you, pulling you close into him. In this position, you could feel his rock hard erection against your thigh, and you were desperate to know what it felt like inside of you.
One of your hands moved to his bulge, pressing into it as Choso curled his fingers just right inside you. Choso let out a surprised breath, but didn't pull back – instead, he shifted so you could feel all of him.
Your hand found its way past his swimming trunks, your mouth immediately hanging open in shock at the sheer size of him. You moved your hand up and down, exploring, noticing how he was just as long as he was thick, the thought of taking all of him already making you drool.
"Ah" he panted, head falling to your collarbone as you continued to stroke him. Despite his closed eyes and fucked out expression, Choso never stopped the motion of his fingers inside of you, completely focused on your pleasure.
You could feel yourself getting close from his fingers alone, but you didn't want it to stop there.
“I want you” you whispered into his ear, and instantly felt his whole body jolt on top of you.
The movement of his fingers stilled for just a second, before he resumed them like clockwork. "Are you sure?" he asked you, pulling back to look in your eyes again.
How could he be so handsome and sweet at the same time.
“I'm sure” you nodded, bringing one hand to cradle his beautiful face, while the other kept stroking his cock.
Choso pressed a kiss to your lips as he slowly removed himself from you. He stood up slowly as not to hurt you, and finally began to remove the rest of his clothes.
Just as you expected, Choso was beautiful. Every inch of him. And seeing him like that, naked and towering over you with affection in his eyes, only made you need him more.
You sat up fast, your mouth opening around his cock before Choso even realised what you were about to do. You held it with one hand, giving it a shy lick first, tasting the saltiness of his precum on your tongue.
"Baby…" he moaned, placing one hand on your head. He didn't push, just felt the movement with you; the way you started to open up around him, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. "You're–ngh, really good at that" he groaned.
Your mouth kept the back and forwards motion, struggling with his length as it started to hit the back of your throat. Choso moaned at how it constricted around him, seconds away from coming in your mouth if he didn't pull himself back.
"You're gonna make me–" his voice shook a little, his hips chasing you already.
"What?" you asked, knowing exactly what he meant, but unable to resist seeing his lustful face.
His adams apple bobbed up and down when you playfully licked him again, the hand on your hair pulling your strands just a little bit more. Choso was close to losing control, and you loved every bit of it.
"You want me to–ngh" he tried to speak, bringing his eyes to your beautiful face. "You want me to come down your throat?"
You nodded yes, eager, salty tears starting to streak down your face. You were desperate to make him feel good, to know what he tasted like, to keep hearing those delicious noises he kept making.
But then, he pulled away again. Fast, just at the last second when he really couldn't hold it in anymore, and moved to tower on top of you, laying you back down on the loveseat. "I want to feel you first" he panted, his tip already touching your entrance while you opened your legs wide for him.
"Please" you moaned, and Choso swallowed the end of the word with a kiss. His mouth sank into you, and his cock sank into your heat, stretching you fully as you whimpered into his mouth.
He was big. Too big. And Choso was aware of it.
“Slowly” he reassured you, brushing your hair away from your face. “I’ll be gentle” he said with a kiss to the top of your head, and you had no reason to believe otherwise.
You let yourself sink into him, closing your arms around his shoulders as you began to relax. To further help, his hand moved to circle your clit, gently massaging the bundle of nerves that made you clench around him.
"Does it feel good?" he asked, starting to move his hips into you, in and out, in and out.
"So good" you whimpered, chasing his lips for a kiss again. "You're so big, Cho"
He smiled at the compliment, but didn't let the praise distract him. His touch was careful and precise, helping you relax around him and take him inch by inch, until he finally bottomed out.
"You're doing so well, pretty" he kissed the top of your head, fully sheathed into you now.
Your body clenched as it tried to adjust, and Choso was already struggling to keep his composure. But when your nails dug into his back, and you bit your lips at him, Choso knew he was done for.
He let himself pick up the pace, stretching you so deliciously all else faded to the background. All you could think about was Choso Choso Choso, and how good he felt, how warm his hands were all over your body, how delicious his tongue tasted.
"You have to be more quiet, baby" he whispered against your mouth, muffling your moans with a rough kiss.
“Fuck, Cho, you-” you tried to say, but his hips angled just right and his pace grew even faster, all your words meshing together into a whimper of pleasure instead.
“You’re so beautiful” he groaned against your lips. “So fucking beautiful like this”
Your nails were drawing blood from his shoulders, but neither of you cared. It felt too good to stop. You had wanted this for too long to stop.
Despite his earlier words, Choso was also struggling to control his sounds. His moans of pleasure filled your ears like music as he panted on top of you, kissing every inch of your face and neck he could find.
"I'm close" he said, head falling forwards as his eyes shut tight, face contorting in pleasure.
You wanted to see him like this forever.
Completely drunk in you.
“Cho” you muttered, pulling him even deeper with your legs, nails leaving marks all over his body. “Cum inside of me” you asked.
He huffed out all the breath from his lungs, struggling to believe what you had just said.
“Fuck” he grunted, hips going faster and faster. “Are you sure, baby?” he checked again.
“Yeah” you moaned in pleasure, the sounds mixing in with his as you both approached your climax.
“Not before you” he said instead, taking your clit between his thumb and index, rolling the bud carefully, knowing exactly how to drive you insane.
Your body began to shake as the heat started pooling upwards, and just as you were about to tip over the edge, Choso closed your lips with his, drinking up all your moans.
Your body was shaking, pulling him in and milking him desperately, but it was the sounds you were making that made him reach his peak.
"Take it" he grunted, slamming his hips into you as his seed began to spill. You felt the heat filling you up, and your whole body begged for more, but the only words you could get out were his name.
"Choso…" you whispered once more, and he let himself relax on top of you.
His arms closed around your waist, pulling you into his chest as he readjusted to your side, slowly removing himself from you. It was a little awkward in the two-seater, but you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
Being nestled into Choso's chest was everything you needed right now.
He slowly caressed your thigh, hand brushing the sweat away from your forehead and tucking your hair behind your ear. Even after all of this, he looked at you like something precious, something he needed to protect.
“Thank you” Choso whispered against your hair, leaving a kiss to your temple.
How the hell was he so sweet?
“…Thank you?” you echoed with a laugh, trying to tilt your head towards him, but Choso didn't let you – choosing to leave another kiss to your forehead, then another, and another, until you went back to resting on his chest.
“I guess...” he started, all shy. "For being you” he completed, dropping his head to the crook of your neck.
"You're really sweet" you murmured, unsure if you wanted to cry or laugh. All you knew is you just wanted to be right here.
Choso didn't reply to that, his face turning into a small pout, but he was too happy to pretend to be self conscious. "I'm sorry I took so long" he said instead.
"I'm sorry too" you nuzzled into him, hand finding his. “I’ve wanted this for a while, you know” you muttered, your face warm against his chest while Choso softly caressed your hair.
“Really?” he asked, enjoying how your words made him feel. "Me too" he admitted.
“Since when?” you asked, curious.
But Choso only let out a small chuckle. “I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you” he admitted, looking up at the sky instead of you, letting you in on a secret he had never dared utter out loud.
You followed his gaze, turning your head around to look up at the stars. It was a beautiful night. "Why today?” you asked again.
“I couldn’t hold it in anymore” he replied, resting his cheek against your head.
“Was it because I was on Gojo’s team for chicken fight?” you teased, remembering how your friend had said Choso was jealous earlier.
“No” Choso answered too quick, though his arms held you tighter. “But I can’t say I was a fan of that” he murmured shyly, earning a chuckle out of you.
"You're cute" you laughed, sinking into him.
"How's your wrist?" he asked, hand brushing over the skin that felt tender earlier.
"Doesn't hurt anymore" you noted. "Guess the kissing really did work"
Choso laughed, bringing your hand to his lips again. "As many as you need" he said against your knuckles.
"I might not ever want you to stop" you muttered, a little shy.
"I hope so" he exhaled, bringing you in closer.
You both stayed like that, holding each other in the hot summer night. You didn't speak much, but you didn't need to – so much of what you felt rested in the in between, in the space the two of you effortlessly shared. Choso just made you feel so incredibly comfortable, so perfectly safe.
You could hear some faint laughter coming from the other side of the villa, the signs of a party raging on without you, but neither of you rushed to join the group just yet.
Shoko really had been right, after all. You really needed this holiday.
You let the weight of the day wash over you, as Choso cradled your body close under the stars. All the fun and laughter and confessions, and the promises of much more to come.
And as you held each other close, you both knew – this would be a summer to remember.
i hope you enjoyed <3 this won the poll for my 1 year anniversary here on tumblr, thank you to everyone who voted and for all my readers too! hope you all have the most wonderful day/night. mwah!
choso’s first time taking the train and you happen to be with him!
he’s irritated that there’s so many people around and you can’t blame him. centuries in a jar, alone with his brothers meant he still struggled socially. unbeknownst to you, it’s hardly the main reason for his irritation.
you’re sandwiched between him and three different men, all way too old and creepy looking to be looking at you the way they are. sure, he’s way older than all of them combined but it irks him to no end. especially since he, like you, is also stuck, a bunch of schoolchildren packed up behind him like a tin of sardines. he couldn’t straighten his shoulders intimidatingly even if he wanted to.
the train roughly comes to a halt a few stops before yours, and everyone stumbles into each ofher. choso, stood at an unfortunately tall height, gets struck in the eye by one of the swinging handgrips.
a soft giggle escapes you at the sight.
then the doors open. at last, as if the gods above have finally answered choso’s prayers, the passengers slowly start to trickle out. the foul smell of body odour and someone kid’s fast food leaves with them; you can’t help but stretch out your limbs as fresh, cool air wafts in. there’s seats by the window, and choso gives you a nudge.
you sit next to each other, shoulders touching. his legs spread wider when he’s relaxed and seated, you’ve come to notice, watching him scan the advertisements above. the silence is comfortable, though you can’t help but break it.
“wanna listen?” the train is quieter than before, but still not quiet enough and the sound of the tracks drown out your words.
“hm?” he ducks his head to your level to hear better, his cologne invading your senses.
“wanna listen? we can share…” you reiterate awkwardly. you offer a wired earbud to him and giving it a small shake.he long lashes flutter as he blinks down at you, fingers twitching on his lap.
“sure.”
the journey continues like that, with choso’s feet tapping slowly to the beat of your favourite songs. a few minutes later you feel a heavy weight on your shoulder and stiffen, turning to glance in his direction.
he’s sleeping peacefully on your shoulder, blissfully unaware of the effect it has on you. you gulp as you catch yourself staring. he’s ethereal from this angle - long lashes that feather out to freckled pale cheeks. a sharp nose bridge with a softly-curved tip, full lips pressed into a sleepy pout.
you lower the volume on your phone so as to not disturb the sleeping beauty, trying to slow the racing of your heart in the meantime.
except choso stopped listening to the music a while ago in favour of hearing the rhythmic thump of your heart.
ꉂ`𖦹. summary - you are a princess promised to a duke you've never met, but your heart belongs to choso, the sad-eyed court jester who sees you as more than a crown and yet, fails to make anyone laugh. when your father discovers your forbidden love and sentences choso to death, you're forced into a betrothal ball with the enigmatic duke satoru gojo—who, surprisingly, offers to help you. with time running out and your wedding looming, you and choso must choose between duty and desire, between the lives you were born into and the love that could set you free.
ꉂ`𖦹. tags - forbidden love :: eventual smut :: slow burn :: fluff :: emotional angst :: royalty au :: class divide :: arranged marriage :: secret relationships :: vanilla sex :: p in v sex :: porn w plot :: fingering :: literally the softest sex ever they r in love :: arguments :: very angsty :: happy ending :: hurt/comfort :: sneaking around :: getting caught :: aftercare :: and choso is rly stupid he cant make anyone laugh
ꉂ`𖦹. wc : 18.7k
the throne room was a cavern of gold and whispers, sunlight streaming through stained glass windows to paint the marble floor in fractured rainbows. you sat upon the high-backed chair on the dais, the weight of the crown on your head a familiar, heavy ache, your spine straight as a spear. below, the court murmured—a low, constant hum of silk rustling and boots clicking—until the heavy oak doors groaned open.
the herald’s voice boomed, cutting through the chatter. "presenting the new court jester, your highness. choso."
you didn't look up from the scroll in your lap immediately, feigning disinterest. jesters were a dime a dozen; your father cycled through them every season, desperate to inject some levity into the rigid structure of court life. you expected a flash of garish color, a flip, or a high-pitched cackle.
what you got was silence.
you lifted your eyes.
standing in the doorway was a man who looked like he’d been shoved into his costume against his will. the motley was a clash of garish red and sickly yellow, the fabric hanging loosely on his broad frame. a tall, floppy hat with dried, tarnished bells perched atop his head, the bells dangling low, nearly brushing his shoulders.
his face was pale, hair a messy black mop, and his eyes—dark and intense—darted around the room like a cornered animal before settling on you. he didn't smile. he didn't bow with a flourish. he just stood there, stiff as a board.
the silence stretched, uncomfortable and thick.
"well?" you said, your voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "are you going to perform, or just stand there blocking the light?"
he flinched, a barely perceptible tightening of his shoulders. his hands, which were large and scarred, fumbled at his sides. he took a step forward, and the bells on his hat and his pointed shoes jingled—a dull, heavy clank rather than a cheerful chime.
"a-apologies," he mumbled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in your chest. "my princess."
he attempted a bow. it was a disaster. he bent at the waist too quickly, the long tail of his motley catching under his boot, causing him to stumble. the bells on his hat swung violently, clattering together with a discordant noise that made you wince. he caught himself, straightening up, his pale cheeks flushing a deep, mortified red.
"nervous?" you asked, tilting your head, a cruel amusement bubbling up in your chest. it was rare to see a grown man—especially one built like a blacksmith, broad-shouldered and thick-limbed—look so utterly out of place in a costume meant for laughter.
"no," he lied, his gaze dropping to the floor. "yes. a little."
"you’re supposed to be funny," you stated, letting the silence hang again. "that’s the job. make us laugh. entertain the court."
he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. "i... i can tell a joke, your highness."
"please do."
he took a breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. the bells jingled softly with the movement. "why did the knight bring a ladder to the bar?"
you waited.
he stared at you, waiting for you to ask why. when you didn't, he shifted his weight, the bells ringing again. "because he heard the drinks were on the house."
silence.
absolute, crushing silence.
you stared at him, blinking once, twice. the punchline hung in the air, limp and lifeless. a few courtiers near the front snorted, but it was clearly out of pity, not genuine humor.
choso’s ears—hidden somewhat by his messy hair—turned a shade of crimson that rivaled his motley. he looked at you, his dark eyes wide with a desperate, pleading hope that you might find it funny. when you didn't crack a smile, he looked down again, his shoulders slumping.
"i see," you said, your tone dry as dust. "well. that was... informative."
"i-i have another," he rushed out, panic edging his voice. "what do you call a fake noodle?"
"an impasta?" you guessed, reciting the most basic joke in the kingdom.
he nodded vigorously, the bells on his hat jingling with the motion. "yes. that is... that is the joke."
"you bore me," you said, cutting him off before he could offer another stale pun. "and your jokes are older than the stones in this castle."
he winced, looking genuinely wounded. "i... i’m trying, your highness."
"try harder," you snapped, though there was no real heat behind it. you were just bored, and he was an easy target. "you’re annoying. the bells are annoying. your face is... serious. you look like you’re attending a funeral, not entertaining a princess."
his jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. he just bowed again, deeper this time, careful not to trip. "i will endeavor to improve, your highness."
"see that you do," you waved a hand dismissively. "you’re dismissed for now. go practice. somewhere far away from here."
he bowed a third time, retreating backward toward the doors, clumsy and stiff. the bells rang with every step, a dull, rhythmic tolling that followed him out of the room. the heavy doors shut, silencing the sound, and the court resumed its murmuring, the new jester already forgotten by most.
but you remembered the flush on his cheeks, the way his large hands had trembled slightly.
—
later that afternoon, you were in the gardens, walking the hedgerows with your ladies-in-waiting. the air was crisp, the scent of roses heavy and sweet. you were discussing the upcoming harvest festival, the tedious details of decorations and feasts, when a flash of ugly red caught your eye near the fountain.
it was him. choso.
he was standing by the stone basin, staring at the water as if it held the secrets of the universe. he wasn't juggling, wasn't tumbling, wasn't doing anything remotely jester-like. he was just... standing there, looking like a misplaced gargoyle.
"oh, look," elara, your closest lady, giggled behind her hand. "it’s the gloomy jester."
"perhaps he’s waiting for the fish to tell him a joke," another maid added, earning a ripple of laughter.
you felt a strange urge to defend him, which was ridiculous. he was annoying. but as you drew closer, you saw him reach out a hand, his fingers hovering over the surface of the water. a dragonfly landed on his knuckle, and for a second, his expression softened. he didn't crush it. he didn't flick it away. he just watched it, his dark eyes curious.
then he saw you.
the softness vanished, replaced by that familiar, panicked stiffness. he jerked his hand back, the dragonfly flying off, and immediately tried to execute a bow. he managed to dip low without falling, but the bells on his shoes rang out sharply against the cobblestones.
"your highness!" he said, his voice tight.
"still here?" you asked, stopping before him. you looked him up and down. the motley was even more daunting in the sunlight, the red fabric clashing violently with the green of the hedges. "i thought i told you to go practice."
"i was... practicing," he said, gesturing vaguely at the fountain. "observation. humor is rooted in observation, they say."
"and what have you observed?"
he paused, thinking hard. his brows furrowed in concentration. "that the water is wet. and the stone is hard."
elara snorted, quickly covering her mouth. you fought the urge to roll your eyes.
"riveting," you said. "truly, the court is lucky to have such a keen wit."
he looked down, his ears turning pink again. "i’m not... i’m not naturally funny, your highness. i was hired for my... other skills."
"other skills?" you raised an eyebrow. "can you juggle? tumble? swallow fire?"
he shook his head. "no. but i can... stand very still. and i have good reflexes."
"that is not what a jester does."
"i know," he said quietly.
you sighed, stepping closer. the scent of him was unexpected—not the cloying smell of cheap perfume or sweat, but something earthy, like old paper and rain. his hands were clasped behind his back, knuckles white.
"look," you said, softening your tone slightly. "my father hired you to make me laugh. or at least, to distract me. you’re failing miserably."
"i’m sorry," he said, and he sounded it. genuinely, deeply sorry. "i will try harder. i can... i can learn a new routine. i can tumble. i can try to be... louder."
"louder isn't better," you told him. "you’re stiff. you move like a soldier, not a performer. relax."
he blinked, looking at you as if you’d spoken a foreign language. "relax?"
"yes. loosen up. stop looking like you’re about to be executed."
he let out a breath, a short, sharp exhale. "i’m not used to... this. the bells. the colors. the expectation of joy."
"what are you used to?"
his eyes met yours, and for a second, the mask slipped. there was a hardness there, a history of violence and loss that didn't belong in a garden. then it was gone, shuttered away. "nothing important, your highness. just... the quiet."
you studied him for a long moment. he was an enigma, this jester who couldn't joke, who stood like a statue, who looked at dragonflies with tenderness.
"fine," you said finally. "you may follow me for the rest of the walk. but no bells."
he looked confused. "no bells?"
"take them off. they’re grating on my nerves."
he hesitated, then reached up to his hat. he unhooked the small, tarnished bells one by one, placing them carefully into a pouch at his belt. the silence that followed was profound. without the constant jingling, he seemed... larger. more imposing. the silence around him was heavy, but it was a comfortable silence, not the awkward one from the throne room.
"better," you murmured. "now, walk. and try not to look like you’re marching to war."
he nodded, falling into step beside you, keeping a respectful distance. he walked quietly, his boots making soft thuds on the path. for the next hour, he followed you through the gardens, silent and observant. he didn't try to tell a joke. he didn't try to tumble. he just walked.
and strangely, you didn't mind his presence.
—
it became a routine, then. not a comfortable one—not yet—but a routine nonetheless. every afternoon, like clockwork, choso would appear in your solar. he'd knock twice, wait for your curt "enter," and then take his place in the furthest chair by the window. sometimes he brought nothing. sometimes he brought a book he clearly wasn't reading, just holding it in his lap like a prop, his dark eyes flicking up every few seconds to check if you'd noticed him failing at the one thing he was supposed to be doing.
you noticed. you always noticed.
"you're staring at that page like it insulted your bloodline," you said one afternoon, not looking up from your embroidery. the fire crackled in the hearth, casting warm shadows across the room. outside, rain streaked the windows in silver lines.
he startled, the book nearly slipping from his grasp. "i'm reading."
"you've been on the same page for twenty minutes."
he looked down at the book, then back at you, his expression caught between guilt and defiance. "it's a... complex passage."
"it's a cookbook."
the silence that followed was excruciating. you could see the exact moment the realization hit him—the way his shoulders sagged, the way his nose turned pink beneath the messy fall of his hair. he closed the book slowly, setting it on the small table beside him with exaggerated care.
"i was hungry," he said, which was such a blatant lie that you almost laughed. almost.
"you're supposed to be humouring me," you reminded him, threading your needle with a sharp, precise motion. "not reading cookbooks in the corner."
"i know."
"so entertain me."
he opened his mouth. closed it. opened it again. "would you like to hear about the history of bread-making?"
"no."
"the proper way to knead dough?"
"absolutely not."
he slumped back in his chair, looking utterly defeated. the motley he wore today was a deep purple and gold, the colors rich but somehow making him look even more out of place, like a crow dressed in peacock feathers. the bells on his hat—he'd started wearing them again, a small rebellion or perhaps just forgetfulness—jingled softly with the movement.
"i don't know what you want from me," he said quietly, and there was a raw honesty in his voice that made you pause.
you set your embroidery down, turning to face him fully. he looked miserable. genuinely, deeply miserable. his large hands were clasped in his lap, knuckles white, and he wouldn't meet your eyes.
"i want you to be what you were hired to be," you said, not unkindly. "a jester. someone who makes people laugh. someone who brings lightness to this... heavy place."
"i'm not light," he said, still staring at his hands. "i've never been light."
"i can see that."
he looked up then, surprised. his dark eyes searched your face, looking for mockery, for cruelty. he found neither.
"you're not light," you agreed. "but you're here. and you're trying. and that's... something, i suppose."
he held your gaze for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. not quite hope, but perhaps the ghost of it. "something," he repeated softly.
"don't let it go to your head."
he almost smiled.
—
the rain continued for three days straight, turning the castle grounds into a muddy, dripping prison. you were confined to the indoors, pacing the halls like a caged animal, your ladies-in-waiting trailing behind you with their endless chatter about needlework and court gossip. you loved them, truly, but sometimes their voices were like nails on a chalkboard.
you found yourself in the library on the third day, seeking solitude among the towering shelves of leather-bound books. the room was vast and quiet, lit by the pale gray light filtering through the high windows. you ran your fingers along the spines, searching for nothing in particular, just needing to move, to think.
"your highness."
you turned to find choso standing at the end of the aisle, looking as out of place among the books as he did everywhere else. he was holding a small, battered book in one hand, his other hand fidgeting with the hem of his motley.
"what are you doing here?" you asked, more curious than annoyed.
"looking for... material," he said, holding up the book. "jokes. humor. something."
you raised an eyebrow. "you're researching jokes?"
"yes."
"in the library."
"…yes."
you couldn't help it. a small laugh escaped you, sharp and surprised. he blinked, looking startled by the sound.
"what?" he asked, defensive.
"you," you said, shaking your head. "you're researching jokes. like they're a subject to be studied!"
"they are," he insisted, his cheeks flushing. "humor is a skill. it can be learned."
"not like that!"
"how, then?"
you thought about it, tilting your head. "i don't know. it just... happens. you see something funny, or you say something without thinking, and people laugh. it's not something you can read about in a book."
he looked down at the book in his hands, then back at you, his expression crestfallen. "so i'm hopeless."
"i didn't say that."
"you didn't have to."
you sighed, stepping closer. up close, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his jaw. he looked tired. not just physically, but tired in his soul.
"choso," you said, and it was the first time you'd used his name without the title attached. he looked up, startled. "you're trying too hard. that's the problem."
"i'm not trying hard enough. you just said—"
"i know what i said. but you're so focused on being funny that you're forgetting to just... be. be yourself. be present. the humor will come."
he stared at you, his dark eyes wide and uncertain. "what if myself isn't funny?"
"then you'll be the world's most serious jester," you said dryly. "and at least you'll be original."
he huffed, a sound that was almost a laugh. almost. "original. great. that's what every jester dreams of."
"you're not every jester."
"no," he agreed quietly. "i'm not."
you stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between you. it wasn't uncomfortable, exactly, but it was heavy with something you couldn't quite name. then you turned away, back to the bookshelves, dismissing the feeling.
"fine," you said over your shoulder. "you can stay. but no more research. just sit. and be quiet. let the silence do the work."
"the silence?"
"yes. sometimes silence is funnier than any joke," you lied.
he looked skeptical, but he didn't argue. he moved to a chair in the corner, settling into it with a grace that belied his size. he didn't open the book. he just sat, watching you browse the shelves.
the minutes ticked by. the rain drummed against the windows. the fire in the library's hearth crackled softly. you pulled out a book at random, flipping through the pages without really reading, hyperaware of his presence in the corner of your vision.
"your highness," he said finally, breaking the silence.
"what now?"
"why do you stay in here? in the library. you could be in your solar. it's warmer. more comfortable."
you shrugged, not turning around. "i like the quiet."
"you like the quiet," he repeated, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "the princess who complains about my silence likes the quiet."
"it's different," you said, defensive. "your silence is... heavy. oppressive. the library's silence is peaceful."
"oppressive," he echoed, and now he was definitely smiling. "that's a big word."
you turned to glare at him, but the expression died on your face when you saw him. he was leaning back in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, the book forgotten on the armrest. his posture was relaxed, his face softer than you'd ever seen it. and he was smiling—not the small, hesitant almost-smiles he'd given you before, but a real smile, reaching his eyes.
"what?" you demanded, feeling heat creep up your neck.
"nothing," he said, still smiling. "just... you're funny."
"i'm not trying to be funny."
"i know," he said, and his smile widened. "that's what makes it funny."
you stared at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. he thought you were funny. him. the man who couldn't tell a joke to save his life thought you were funny.
"that's—" you sputtered. "i'm not—you can't just—"
and then, despite yourself, you laughed.
it burst out of you, unexpected and bright, echoing off the high ceilings of the library. you laughed until your sides hurt, until tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, until you had to lean against the bookshelf for support.
choso watched you, his smile softening into something warmer, something that made your chest ache in a way you didn't want to examine.
"there it is," he said quietly.
"there what is?"
"the sound i've been trying to earn."
—
after that, something shifted. not dramatically, not all at once, but slowly, like the turning of a season. you still complained about him. he still failed spectacularly at being a jester. but the edges of your annoyance softened, worn down by the quiet afternoons and the unexpected moments of levity.
he started appearing in more places. not just your solar, but the gardens, the hallways, the kitchens. he was always there, a silent shadow in motley, watching you with those dark, intense eyes. you'd be walking to a meeting with your father, and you'd turn a corner to find him standing there, waiting.
"following me now?" you'd ask, exasperated.
"the king requested i attend to you," he'd say, which was a transparent lie and you both knew it.
"the king doesn't care where i am."
"perhaps i care," he'd say, so quietly you almost missed it.
you didn't know what to do with that. so you did nothing. you just kept walking, and he kept following, and the silence between you grew more comfortable with each passing day.
one afternoon, you were in the throne room, sitting in on a council meeting. it was tedious beyond measure—trade agreements and tax disputes and border negotiations that made your eyes glaze over. you sat in your chair on the dais, trying to look engaged, while your mind wandered.
you glanced to the side and saw choso standing against the wall, trying to blend in with the tapestries. he was failing miserably. the motley was too bright, his presence too solid. but he was trying, standing so still that he almost looked like a statue.
you caught his eye. he looked panicked, like a child caught stealing sweets. you fought the urge to smile.
the council droned on. lord something-or-other was explaining the intricacies of grain tariffs, his voice a monotonous buzz. you felt your attention slipping, your eyelids growing heavy.
then you felt it. a small, light touch on your ankle.
you looked down. choso had somehow moved closer without you noticing, and he was holding a small, folded piece of paper. he pressed it into your hand, his fingers cold against your skin, and then retreated back to his spot against the wall.
you unfolded the note under the table, hiding it in your lap.
if i have to listen to one more minute of this, i'm going to fall asleep and roll off this wall. please save me. :c
you bit your lip to keep from laughing. you glanced at him. he was staring straight ahead, his face a perfect mask of innocence.
you scribbled a response on the bottom of the note and waited for him to pass by again. when he did, pretending to adjust his hat, you pressed the paper into his hand.
he unfolded it later, and you watched from the corner of your eye as he read it.
you're the jester! make a joke. save us both. :D
he looked at you, horrified. and you raised an eyebrow, challenging him.
he swallowed hard, then stepped forward into the center of the room. the council members stopped talking, turning to look with confusion.
"forgive me, my lords," choso said, his voice steady despite the flush creeping up his neck. "but i couldn't help but notice... we've been discussing grain for over an hour."
lord something-or-other frowned. "yes, and your point is?"
"my point," choso said, "is that i now know more about grain than i ever wanted to. and i'm a jester. my job is to know about things like... i don't know, juggling. and funny hats." he gestured to his own hat, the bells jingling. "but apparently, i'm also an expert in agriculture now."
silence.
then, unexpectedly, your father laughed. a deep, booming laugh that filled the throne room. "the boy's right!" the king said, wiping his eyes. "we've been at this too long. let's take a break."
the council members murmured their agreement, standing and stretching. you sat there, stunned, as choso bowed and retreated back to his spot against the wall.
when the room had cleared, you approached him. he looked nervous, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his motley.
"that was—" you started.
"terrible," he finished. "i know. i'm xi. i just—"
"that was perfect," you interrupted.
he looked up, surprised. "what?"
"you made my father laugh. you made the whole council stop. you were..." you searched for the word. "you were yourself. and it worked."
he stared at you, his dark eyes wide and hopeful. "really?"
"really."
he smiled, that small, genuine smile that was becoming familiar. "thank you, your highness."
"stop thanking me," you said, but there was no bite to it. "just keep doing that! being honest. being real. it's better than any joke you could study."
"i'll try," he said. "for you."
the words hung in the air, heavy with implication. you turned away before he could see the flush on your cheeks, before he could see the way your heart had stumbled in your chest.
"come on," you said over your shoulder. "i need air. and you're going to walk with me."
"yes, your highness," he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.
you walked through the castle halls, side by side, the silence between you no longer heavy or oppressive. it was just plain old silence. comfortable and easy.
and if your hand brushed against his as you walked, neither of you mentioned it.
—
the days turned into weeks. the routine solidified. choso was everywhere— he was your shadow, your silent companion, your failed jester who was slowly, inexplicably, becoming something more.
you still teased him. he still complained. you still told him he was annoying and unfunny and too serious for his own good. but the words had lost their edge, softened by the warmth that had begun to grow between you.
one evening, you were in the gardens, watching the sun set over the castle walls. the sky was painted in shades of orange and pink, the air cool and sweet with the scent of roses. you sat on a stone bench, your embroidery forgotten in your lap, lost in thought.
"a penny for your thoughts?"
you looked up to find choso standing before you, his hands clasped behind his back. the setting sun caught the gold threads in his motley, making him glow.
"they're worth more than a mere penny," you said, but there was no heat in it.
"then i'll owe you," he said, sitting beside you without invitation. he was close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, despite the chill in the air.
"you'll owe me a lot," you said, turning back to the sunset.
"i don't mind."
you sat in silence for a while, watching the sky darken. the first stars began to appear, faint and distant.
"choso?" you said finally.
"yes?"
"why do you stay? you could have left by now. found another position. somewhere you didn't have to pretend to be something you're not."
he was quiet for a long time. when he spoke, his voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "because you see me."
you turned to look at him. "what do you mean?"
"everyone else sees the jester. the motley. the bells. the failure. but you..." he met your eyes, his dark gaze intense. "you see me. the real me. and you don't taunt me. well, not as bad as the servants do."
your breath caught in your throat. you didn't know what to say. so you said nothing. you just sat there, side by side, watching the stars come out.
and when his hand found yours in the darkness, his cold fingers intertwining with your warm ones, you didn't pull away.
the stars were multiplying now, scattered across the darkening sky like spilled salt. the air had grown colder, but you barely noticed. all you could focus on was the weight of his hand in yours, the way his thumb traced slow, absent circles against your knuckles.
"choso?" you breathed, and his name felt different in your mouth now. softer. more intimate.
"yes?" he turned to face you fully, and the distance between you shrank to nothing. his dark eyes searched your face, looking for permission, for confirmation, for something he seemed too afraid to name.
your heart hammered against your ribs. this was wrong. he was a jester. you were a princess. your father would—
you didn't care.
you leaned in, just slightly, your eyes flicking down to his lips. they were slightly chapped, parted, waiting. his breath hitched, warm against your cheek. his free hand came up, trembling, to cup your face. his palm was cold against your flushed skin, and you shivered, but not from the cold.
"princess," he whispered, and it sounded like a prayer.
you closed your eyes.
"choso!"
the voice boomed across the gardens like a crack of thunder. you jerked apart so fast you nearly fell off the bench. choso's hand dropped from your face like it had been burned, and he was on his feet in an instant, bowing low.
your father stood at the garden entrance, his massive frame silhouetted against the torchlight from the castle behind him. his face was flushed—from wine or anger, you couldn't tell—and his eyes were fixed on choso with an intensity that made your stomach drop.
"y-your majesty," choso said, his voice steady despite the panic you could see in the rigid set of his shoulders.
"the guests are waiting," your father said, his tone clipped. "the duke of the northern provinces has traveled three days to be here, and you're skulking in the gardens like a common servant. get inside. now."
choso didn't look at you. he couldn't. if he did, if your father saw the way his eyes lingered, the way his hands still trembled—
"at once, your majesty," choso said, and bowed again before turning on his heel and striding toward the castle. the bells on his hat jingled with each step, a mocking, cheerful sound that made you want to scream.
you sat there on the bench, your hand still warm from his touch, your lips still tingling with the ghost of what almost happened. your father watched choso go, his expression unreadable.
"daughter," he said finally, turning to you.
"father."
"inside. now. you have your duties to attend to."
you stood, gathering your embroidery with hands that wouldn't stop shaking. "of course, father."
you followed him into the castle, your mind racing. the warmth of the garden was replaced by the oppressive heat of the great hall, where torches blazed and the air was thick with the smell of roasted meat and spilled wine. the long tables were filled with nobles and dignitaries, their laughter and chatter a cacophony that made your head pound.
choso was already there, standing at the center of the hall, surrounded by expectant faces. he looked small somehow, despite his size. the motley seemed garish under the torchlight, the bells absurd. he caught your eye for just a second—a fleeting, desperate glance—before turning to the crowd.
"ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice carrying across the hall. "i hope you're enjoying the feast."
a few polite chuckles. most of the guests barely looked up from their plates.
"i thought i'd start with a little something to... lighten the mood." he reached into his sleeve and produced three wooden balls, beginning to juggle them with surprising dexterity. the balls arced through the air, catching the torchlight, and for a moment, you forgot to breathe.
he was good. really good. the balls moved in perfect rhythm, his hands a blur, his expression focused and intense. the guests began to pay attention, their conversations dying down as they watched.
then he added a fourth ball. then a fifth. the crowd gasped, impressed. choso's face remained serious, but you could see the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
"impressive," the duke of the northern provinces said, leaning forward in his seat. "but can you do it blindfolded?"
choso caught the balls one by one, tucking them back into his sleeve. "i can try, your grace!"
someone produced a silk scarf, and choso tied it around his eyes with practiced ease. he took a breath, then began to juggle again. the balls moved in perfect arcs, his hands finding them by instinct alone. the crowd erupted in applause.
you watched from your seat at the high table, your heart swelling with something you couldn't name. pride, maybe. or something deeper. something dangerous.
your father leaned over, his voice low. "he's adequate, i suppose. better than the last one."
"he's more than adequate," you said, not looking at your father. "he's talented."
"he's a jester!" your father said, dismissive. "talent is irrelevant. he serves a purpose. nothing more."
you bit your tongue, saying nothing. but inside, something hardened. a resolve you hadn't known you possessed.
choso finished his act to thunderous applause, bowing low. as he straightened, his eyes found yours across the crowded hall. the blindfold was gone, and the look he gave you was raw, unguarded, full of everything he couldn't say.
you held his gaze, letting him see the truth in your own eyes. i know. i feel it too. this isn't over.
he looked away first, bowing to the crowd and retreating to the edge of the hall. but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.
the feast dragged on. course after course, speech after speech, toast after toast. you sat at the high table, smiling and nodding and saying all the right things, but your mind was elsewhere. on a garden bench. on cold hands and warm breath. on a moment that had been stolen from you.
when the feast finally ended, when the last guest had stumbled to their chambers and the hall had emptied, you found yourself alone. the servants were clearing the tables, their movements efficient and silent. you stood, your legs stiff from sitting, and made your way toward the door.
"your highness."
you turned. choso was standing in the shadows by the wall, half-hidden behind a pillar. he looked exhausted, the motley rumpled, his hair disheveled.
"choso," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
he stepped closer, checking to make sure no one was watching. "i'm sorry. about before. in the gardens. i shouldn't have—"
"don't," you said, cutting him off. "don't apologize for that."
"but your father—"
"my father doesn't own me," you said, and the words felt like a declaration of war. "he doesn't control what i feel. who i—"
you stopped yourself before you could say too much. but the words hung in the air anyway, heavy with implication.
choso stared at you, his dark eyes wide. "princess—"
"don't call me that," you said, stepping closer. "not now. not when we're alone."
"i have to," he said, his voice strained. "if anyone hears—"
"let them hear."
"you don't know what you're saying," he said, but there was no conviction in his voice. only fear. and longing.
"i know exactly what i'm saying," you said, and you reached out, your hand finding his. his fingers were cold, as always, but they curled around yours without hesitation. "i know what i want."
"and what do you want?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
you looked up at him, at this man who had stumbled into your life like a storm, who had turned your world upside down with his silence and his seriousness and his unexpected, devastating warmth.
"you," you said simply. "i want you."
his breath hitched. his hand tightened around yours. for a moment, you thought he might pull you close, might kiss you right there in the empty hall, consequences be damned.
then footsteps echoed from the corridor, and the moment shattered. choso dropped your hand like it had burned him, stepping back into the shadows.
"tomorrow," he whispered. "meet me inthe gardens. at midnight."
"choso—"
"please," he said, and the desperation in his voice made your chest ache. "i can't... i can't do this here. not where anyone can see. but tomorrow. i promise."
you nodded, your heart pounding. "tomorrow."
he melted back into the shadows, disappearing as silently as he'd appeared. you stood there for a long moment, your hand still tingling from his touch, your lips still burning with the memory of what almost happened.
then you turned and walked to your chambers, your mind racing, your heart full.
tomorrow at midnight in the gardens.
you couldn't wait.
—
you woke with the sun, which was unusual for you. normally you'd sleep until your ladies-in-waiting came to rouse you, groaning and pulling the covers over your head. but today your eyes flew open before dawn had even fully broken, your heart already racing, your body thrumming with an energy you couldn't name.
you threw the covers aside and rang for your maids before you could talk yourself out of it. elara arrived first, her hair still mussed from sleep, blinking at you in confusion.
"your highness? is everything alright?"
"everything is perfect!" you said, and the word came out breathless, giddy. "everything is perfect. i need my sewing basket. and the blue silk. no—the green. the green with the silver thread."
elara stared at you like you'd grown a second head. "you want to sew? now? it's barely dawn."
"yes, now. please."
the maids exchanged glances but didn't argue. they knew better than to question you when you had that look in your eyes—the one that said you'd already made up your mind and the world could either get on board or get out of the way.
they brought your sewing basket, the green silk, the silver thread. you settled by the window where the light was best, your fingers already moving, stitching with a focus and precision that surprised even you. you were making a handkerchief. a simple thing, really. but you embroidered the edges with tiny roses, each petal perfect, each leaf delicate. your best work. the kind of work that took hours, that demanded your full attention.
but you didn't want your full attention. you wanted to think about cold hands and dark eyes and the way choso's voice cracked when he said your name.
"you're humming," elara observed from across the room, where she was mending one of your gowns.
you stopped. you hadn't even realized. "am i?"
"yes. you rarely hum."
you started again, unable to help it. the melody was aimless, wandering, the kind of tune that came from a heart too full to contain itself. you stitched and hummed and watched the sun climb higher in the sky, marking the hours until midnight.
the day crawled. you sewed through breakfast, through lunch, through the afternoon. your fingers moved automatically, the needle flashing in and out of the fabric, while your mind wandered to gardens and starlight and the almost-kiss that had been stolen from you.
"your highness, you've been at this for hours," elara said, concern creeping into her voice. "your fingers must be sore."
you looked down. she was right. your fingertips were red, the skin tender from the needle. but you couldn't stop. if you stopped, you'd have to think. and if you thought, you'd have to confront the enormity of what you were feeling, the danger of what you were planning.
"just a little longer," you said. "i want to finish this tonight."
tonight. the word sent a shiver down your spine.
the afternoon bled into evening. you ate dinner mechanically, tasting nothing, your mind already in the gardens, already by the stone bench, already waiting. your father sat at the head of the table, discussing trade agreements with some lord or other, and you nodded and smiled and said nothing.
"you're quiet tonight, daughter," your father observed, his eyes narrowing.
"just tired, father," you said. "it's been a long day."
"hm." he didn't look convinced, but he let it go. "early night, then. you look pale."
"yes, father."
you excused yourself as soon as politeness allowed, retreating to your chambers with a flurry of excuses about headaches and early mornings. your maids helped you out of your gown, into your nightdress, brushing out your hair with practiced efficiency.
"will you need anything else tonight, your highness?" elara asked, pausing at the door.
"nope! sleep well, elara."
"you too, your highness."
the door closed. the lock clicked. and then you were alone.
you sat by the window, the finished handkerchief in your lap. it was beautiful, if you said so yourself. the roses were perfect, the silver thread catching the candlelight. you'd made it for him. a stupid, sentimental gift that you'd probably never have the courage to give.
you watched the moon climb the sky. nine o'clock. ten o'clock. your heart hammered with each passing minute.
then, soft as a breath, a knock at your door.
you froze. no one knocked on your door at this hour. no one dared.
another knock. three taps, a pause, then two more.
you were at the door in an instant, your hand on the lock, your breath caught in your throat. you shouldn't open it. you knew you shouldn't. but your hand was already turning the mechanism, already pulling the door inward.
choso stood in the corridor, still wearing his motley, his dark hair damp from the night air. his eyes were wide, wild, desperate. he looked like a man who'd been drowning and had finally broken the surface.
"choso?!" you breathed. "what are you—it's only ten. i thought—midnight—"
"i couldn't wait," he said, and his voice was raw, stripped bare. "i tried. i waited in the gardens for an hour, but i couldn't—i needed to see you. i needed to know if last night was real. if you meant what you said."
you stared at him, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst from your chest. "you came to my chambers. choso, if anyone sees you—"
"i don't care," he said, and the words were fierce, almost angry. "i don't care about the rules, or the risk, or what your father will do if he finds out. i just... i needed to see you."
you should have sent him away. you should have closed the door, locked it, pretended this never happened. but you were already reaching for him, your hand curling into the fabric of his motley, pulling him inside.
the door closed behind him. the lock clicked. and then you were alone together, in your chambers, with nothing but candlelight and moonlight and the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you.
"hi," he said softly, and the word was so simple, so human, that it made your chest ache.
"hi," you whispered back.
he looked around your chambers like he was seeing them for the first time. the canopy bed, the sewing basket by the window, the embroidery hoop with the green silk. his eyes lingered on the handkerchief in your lap, the one with the roses.
"you made that," he said, his voice wondering.
"yes."
"for me?"
you nodded, unable to speak.
he crossed the room in two strides, kneeling before you like a knight before his queen. his hands found yours, cold fingers intertwining with warm ones, and he looked up at you with those dark, intense eyes.
"i'm sorry," he said. "for coming here. for being reckless. for putting you in danger. but i couldn't—i couldn't stay away. not after you said—"
"i meant it," you said, cutting him off. "every word."
his breath hitched. his hands tightened around yours. "but i'm nothing. a jester. a failure. a man who can't even make people laugh. you're a princess. you deserve—"
"i deserve someone who loves me," you said, echoing his words from the garden. "someone who doesn't look away."
he stared at you, his eyes shining in the candlelight. "i see you," he whispered. "i see all of you. the sharp tongue and the soft heart. the crown and the girl underneath. i see you, and i—"
he stopped, the words catching in his throat.
"you what?" you prompted, your voice barely a breath.
"i love you," he said, and the words tumbled out like a confession, like a prayer, like a man jumping off a cliff and trusting the wind to catch him. "i love you, and i know i shouldn't, and i know it's wrong, and i know your father would have me executed if he knew, but i can't—i can't not say it. not after last night. not after you looked at me like i was something more than a fool in motley."
your eyes burned. your vision blurred. you were crying, you realized. tears streaming down your face, hot and fast, and you couldn't stop them.
"choso," you said, and his name was a sob, a laugh, a benediction.
he reached up, his cold thumb brushing the tears from your cheeks. "don't cry," he said, his voice breaking. "please don't cry. i didn't mean to make you cry."
"they're happy tears," you said, laughing through the sobs. "you idiot. i'm so happy!"
he smiled, that small, genuine smile that was becoming your favorite thing in the world. "happy tears," he repeated, like he was testing the words. "i've never made anyone cry happy tears before."
"there's a first time for everything," you said, and then you were leaning down, your hands cupping his face, your lips finding his.
the kiss was soft at first. tentative. a question and an answer all at once. his lips were chapped, slightly rough, and he tasted like rain and something sweet, like honey or wine. his hands came up to frame your face, trembling, holding you like you were something precious, something that might shatter if he held too tight.
then the kiss deepened. his tongue traced the seam of your lips, asking for entrance, and you granted it without hesitation. he groaned against your mouth, the sound low and desperate, and pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist.
you tumbled off the chair, landing in a heap on the floor, laughing and kissing and tangled together. he was above you, his weight pressing you into the carpet, his hands everywhere—in your hair, on your waist, sliding up your sides.
"wait," he gasped, pulling back. his eyes were wild, his lips swollen, his hair a mess. "wait. we should—we should talk about this. about what this means. about the consequences."
"later," you said, pulling him back down. "we'll talk later. fuck— i need you, cho."
something in him broke. or maybe something in him finally came together. he kissed you again, harder this time, his hands sliding under your nightdress, cold fingers against the warm skin of your waist. you gasped into his mouth, arching up into him, your fingers tangling in his messy hair.
"god—" he breathed against your lips, his voice wrecked. "you're so soft. so perfect."
his mouth trailed down your jaw, your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. you tilted your head back, giving him access, and he took full advantage—nuzzling the sensitive spot below your ear, his breath hot and ragged.
"cho!—" you whimpered, your hips rolling up against him instinctively. he groaned, grinding down, and you could feel how hard he was through the layers of fabric between you.
"i know—i'm sorry—" he panted, but he didn't stop. his hands slid higher, brushing the underside of your breasts, and you moaned, the sound louder than you intended.
"shh," he whispered, pressing a finger to his own lips. "we have to be quiet. if anyone hears—"
you nodded, biting your lip to keep from making more sounds. but then his thumb brushed over your nipple, and a small, helpless noise escaped anyway. he swallowed it with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, and you felt him smile against your mouth.
"i can't help it," you mumbled against his lips.
"i want to hear you," he said, his voice low and rough. "i want to hear every sound. but not tonight. not here."
his hands continued their exploration, mapping your body like he was memorizing it. every curve, every dip, every place that made you gasp or shiver or squirm. he was attentive, careful, his touch reverent—like you were something holy.
then the door burst open.
"your highness, i forgot to—"
elara stood in the doorway, her hand still on the doorknob, her eyes wide as saucers. she took in the scene in a single, horrifying glance—you on the floor, choso above you, his hands under your nightdress, your hair a mess, your lips swollen, the two of you tangled together in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
for one frozen moment, nobody moved.
then elara screamed.
it was a high, piercing sound that shattered the silence like glass. she stumbled backward into the corridor, her hands flying to her mouth, her eyes still wide with shock.
"the king!" she shrieked. "someone get the king! the jester—he's—the princess—"
"elara, wait!" you scrambled to your feet, your nightdress falling back into place, your heart hammering so hard you thought it might explode. "elara, please— don't!"
but she was already running, her footsteps echoing down the corridor, her screams growing fainter but no less terrifying.
choso was on his feet too, his face pale, his eyes wide with panic. "i have to go," he said, his voice tight. "i have to—if your father finds me here—"
"choso—"
"i'm sorry," he said, and the words were desperate, anguished. "i'm so sorry. i never should have come. i put you in danger. i—"
"stop," you said, grabbing his hand. "we'll figure this out. we'll—"
"there's nothing to figure out," he said, and his voice was hollow. "your father will have me executed. or exiled. or worse. and you—god, what will he do to you?"
"i don't care," you said, and you meant it. "i don't care what he does to me. i just—"
"i care!" he said, and his voice broke. "i care what happens to you. and i won't let my selfishness destroy your life."
he pulled his hand from yours, stepping back. the distance between you felt like a chasm, widening with every breath.
"choso, please—"
"i love you," he said, and the words were a goodbye, raw and ragged and final. "i love you, and that's why i— i have to go."
he moved to the window, throwing it open. the night air rushed in, cool and damp, carrying the scent of rain and roses. he looked back at you one last time, his dark eyes full of everything he couldn't say, everything he'd never get the chance to.
"i'm sorry," he whispered.
and then he was gone, disappearing into the darkness like a shadow swallowed by the night.
you stood there, frozen, your heart shattering into a thousand pieces. the sound of elara's screams still echoed in your ears, growing fainter as she ran down the corridor, but no less terrifying for the distance.
you had maybe seconds. maybe less.
you looked down at yourself—your nightdress rumpled, your hair a mess, your lips still swollen from his kisses. evidence everywhere. you grabbed a shawl from the back of your chair, wrapping it around your shoulders, trying to look presentable, trying to look innocent. your hands were shaking so badly you could barely tie it.
you smoothed your hair. you straightened your nightdress. you tried to slow your breathing, to calm the frantic beating of your heart.
but it wasn't enough. you knew it wasn't enough.
the footsteps came first. heavy, booted, multiple sets. the guards. you could hear them before you saw them—the clatter of armor, the jingle of weapons, the low murmur of voices.
then the door to your chambers slammed open.
four guards filled the doorway, their faces hard and impassive. behind them, elara hovered, her eyes red from crying, her hands wringing together.
she wouldn't look at you.
"princess," the captain of the guard said, his voice flat. "the king requests your presence. immediately."
"i'm not dressed," you said, your voice steadier than you felt.
"now, your highness."
it wasn't a request.
you followed them through the corridors, your bare feet cold against the stone floor. the castle was awake now, torches blazing in their sconces, servants peering from doorways with wide eyes and whispered gossip. you kept your chin up, your expression neutral, even as your insides churned with fear.
they didn't take you to the throne room. no, they took you to your father's private study.
the room was small, intimate, lined with books and maps. a fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls. your father stood by the window, his back to you, his hands clasped behind his back. he was still wearing his dinner clothes, but his crown was gone, his hair disheveled.
and there, on his desk, was choso.
no—not on his desk. in front of it. on his knees.
two guards flanked him, their hands on his shoulders, forcing him down. his hands were bound behind his back with rough rope, his motley torn at the shoulder, a bruise already forming on his cheek. his head was bowed, his hair falling forward to hide his face.
but you could see his ears. they were red, just like they were on the first night you spoke.
your heart clenched.
"father," you said, your voice carefully controlled.
your father turned. his face was a mask of cold fury, his eyes like chips of ice. "close the door," he said to the guards.
the door closed and the lock clicked. you were alone with your father and the man you loved, kneeling on the floor like a dirty criminal.
"do you know why you're here?" your father asked, his voice deceptively calm.
"i can explain—" you started.
"can you?" he interrupted, his voice rising. "can you explain why my daughter's lady-in-waiting found a man in her chambers? a man with his hands under her dress? a man who is supposed to be a jester, not a—"
he stopped himself, his jaw clenching. the silence that followed was suffocating.
"he didn't force me," you said, your voice quiet but firm. "i wanted him there."
your father's eyes narrowed. "you wanted him there."
"yes."
"you invited a common jester into your bedchambers. willingly."
"yes."
he stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then he turned to choso, who hadn't moved, hadn't lifted his head.
"and you," your father said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "you took advantage of my daughter's kindness. you betrayed my trust. you—"
"i love her," choso said, and his voice was steady despite the fear you could see trembling in his shoulders. "i love her, and she loves me. i didn't take advantage of anything. i would never—"
"silence!" your father's voice cracked like a whip. "you don't speak unless spoken to. you're a jester. a servant. you're nothing."
the words hit you like a physical blow. you stepped forward, placing yourself between your father and choso.
"he's not nothing," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. "he's kind, and he's good, and he sees me. not the princess, me!"
"he sees a way to advance himself," your father said coldly. "a way to climb above his station. and you, foolish girl, have given him the perfect opportunity."
"that's not true!" you said, but your voice wavered. doubt crept in, cold and insidious. was it true? had choso been using you?
you looked at him. he was looking at you now, his dark eyes meeting yours. there was no guile in them. no calculation. only pain, and love, and a desperate, aching sincerity.
"i would die before i hurt her," choso said quietly. "i would give up everything. my life. my freedom. my heart. anything for her."
your father laughed. it was a cold, bitter sound. "how poetic. how romantic. and how utterly irrelevant."
he turned to the guards. "take him to the dungeon. he'll be executed at dawn for the crime of defiling the princess."
"no!" you lunged forward, but the captain of the guard caught your arm, holding you back. "father, please! you can't—"
"i can, and i will," your father said, his voice hard as stone. "he's a traitor. a seducer. a man who thought he could touch what belongs to the crown. he'll die, and you will forget him."
"i'll never forget him," you said, tears streaming down your face. "i'll never—"
"you will!" your father yelled. "because tomorrow, you'll begin your betrothal to the duke of the northern provinces. the arrangements have already been made."
the world tilted. your knees buckled. if the guard hadn't been holding you, you would have fallen.
"what?" you whispered.
"the duke has agreed to the match," your father said, his voice matter-of-fact. "the wedding will take place in one month. you will be a good wife, and you will produce heirs, and you will forget this... indiscretion ever happened."
"i won't marry him," you said, your voice breaking. "i won't—"
"you will," your father said. "or i'll have the jester tortured before he dies. is that what you want?"
you looked at choso. he was shaking his head, his eyes pleading. don't. don't sacrifice yourself for me. please.
"your majesty," choso said, his voice raw. "please. punish me. kill me. do whatever you want with me. but don't force her into a marriage she doesn't want. don't make her suffer for my mistakes."
"your mistakes?" your father repeated, his lip curling. "you think this is about your mistakes? this is about order. about hierarchy. about the natural order of things. you are nothing. nothing, i say! and you forgot your place!"
he turned to the guards. "take him away."
the guards hauled choso to his feet. he didn't resist. he just looked at you, his dark eyes full of everything he couldn't say.
"i love you," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "i'll always love you."
"choso!—" you sobbed, reaching for him, but the guard held you back.
they dragged him from the room. the door closed. his footsteps faded down the corridor, heavy and final.
you collapsed to your knees, your sobs echoing in the empty room. your father stood over you, his expression unreadable.
"you'll thank me one day," he said quietly. "when you're a duchess, with children of your own. you'll understand that i did what was necessary."
you said nothing. you just knelt there, broken, as the fire crackled and the shadows danced and the world you'd known crumbled to ash around you.
—
the morning of the execution came and went.
you didn't see the sun rise, nor did you hear the bells toll. you just sat in your window seat, wrapped in a blanket, staring at nothing, waiting for the moment when the world would end.
it didn't.
the hours passed. the sun climbed. the castle stirred to life around you. and still, you sat, numb and hollow, waiting for a grief that wouldn't come because you couldn't let yourself feel it. if you felt it, you'd shatter. and if you shattered, you'd never put yourself back together.
elara came at midday, her face pale. "your highness," she said softly. "the execution... it didn't happen."
you turned to look at her, your eyes blank. "what?"
"the king... he commuted the sentence. the jester is... he's alive."
the relief that flooded through you was so intense it was painful. your vision blurred. your hands shook. you pressed them against your mouth to stifle a sob.
"but," elara continued, her voice dropping, "the king has ordered him to perform tonight at the ball. for the duke."
the relief curdled into something else. something cold and sharp.
"perform," you repeated.
"yes. as... as punishment. to remind him of his place. to remind everyone." elara's eyes filled with tears. "your highness, i'm so sorry. i never meant—"
"leave," you said, your voice flat.
she obeyed, because what choice did she have?
you sat there for a long time, your mind racing. choso was alive! he was alive, and tonight, you'd see him. but not as yourself. not as the girl who'd kissed him on the floor of her chambers. as the princess. the betrothed. the prize being handed to another man.
the thought made you want to scream.
—
they came for you in the evening, a parade of maids and dressers and stylists, all chattering and fussing and pulling you in different directions. they bathed you in water scented with rose oil, scrubbed your skin until it glowed, brushed your hair until it shone like dark silk.
they dressed you in a gown of pale blue silk, the color of a winter sky. it was fitted through the bodice, cinched at the waist, the skirt flowing in soft layers to the floor. silver thread embroidered the hem, tiny stars and moons that caught the light when you moved. they placed a delicate silver circlet on your head, set with small sapphires that matched your eyes.
you looked beautiful, and yet, you felt like a corpse.
"your highness looks stunning," one of the maids gushed, adjusting the drape of your sleeve.
you said nothing. you just stared at your reflection in the mirror, at the stranger looking back at you. pale. hollow-eyed. dressed for a wedding that wasn't a wedding, a celebration that felt like a funeral.
"the duke will be enchanted!" another maid squealed, beaming.
you wanted to tell them that the duke could go to hell. that you'd rather throw yourself from the highest tower than dance with a man you'd never met, a man who was stealing you from the only person you'd ever loved.
but you said nothing. you just stood there, silent and still, as they finished their work and led you to the grand ballroom.
—
the ballroom was a blaze of light and color. hundreds of candles burned in crystal chandeliers overhead, casting a warm, golden glow over the assembled guests. the air was thick with the scent of perfume and wine and roasted meats, the sound of laughter and music and conversation a constant, buzzing hum.
you stood at the top of the stairs, your hand on the banister, your heart pounding. below, the crowd milled and mingled, a sea of silk and jewels and smiling faces. at the far end of the room, on a raised dais, sat your father on his throne, resplendent in his crown and robes.
and beside him, standing with an easy, confident posture that spoke of wealth and power, was a man you'd never seen before.
he was tall. impossibly tall. his hair was white—not gray, nor silver, but pure, startling white—and it stuck up in all directions, defying gravity and good sense. he wore a suit of deep blue velvet, tailored to perfection, with a high collar that framed his sharp jaw and high cheekbones. his eyes—
you couldn't see his eyes from this distance. but you could feel them. a weight. a presence. something magnetic and dangerous and utterly, infuriatingly self-assured.
the duke of the northern provinces. satoru gojo.
your betrothed.
your stomach turned.
"your highness," the herald announced, his voice booming across the room. "may i present the princess, first daughter of his royal majesty, betrothed to his grace, the duke of the northern provinces."
every head in the room turned. every eye fixed on you. the crowd parted, creating a path from the stairs to the dais, and you had no choice but to walk it.
you descended the stairs slowly, your chin lifted, your expression neutral. the gown whispered around your feet, the silver embroidery catching the light. you could feel the weight of hundreds of gazes on you, assessing, judging, admiring.
you reached the dais. your father stood, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
"daughter," he said, his voice warm for the benefit of the crowd. "you look radiant."
"father," you replied, your voice equally performative.
then your father turned to the duke, and you finally got a clear look at his face.
he was beautiful. there was no other word for it. sharp features, full lips curved in a lazy smile, skin pale and flawless. and his eyes—
his eyes were blue. not the soft blue of a winter sky, like your gown. but a vivid, electric, almost unnatural blue, like the heart of a flame. they were striking against his pale skin and white hair, and they were fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.
"your highness," he said, and his voice was smooth, rich, amused. "you're even more beautiful than they said."
"your grace," you replied, curtsying. "the rumors didn't do you justice either."
his smile widened. "oh, i like her," he said to your father, as if you weren't standing right there. "she's got spirit."
"she does," your father agreed, his tone warning. "which is why she needs a firm hand."
you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you'd regret.
satoru offered you his arm. "shall we?"
you had no choice. you placed your hand on his sleeve, and he led you down from the dais to the center of the ballroom. the crowd parted before them, whispers following in their wake.
the orchestra struck up a waltz. satoru turned to you, one hand finding your waist, the other taking your hand. his grip was firm but not painful, his movements fluid and confident.
"relax," he murmured, his blue eyes searching your face. "i don't bite. unless you ask nicely."
you stiffened. "that's not funny."
"oh, come now! it was a little funny," he said, spinning you effortlessly. "try to smile, princess. we're supposed to be in love. or at least, pretending to be. you look like you're being led to the gallows."
"perhaps because i am," you said through gritted teeth.
he laughed. it was a bright, genuine sound that drew glances from nearby guests. "god, you're dramatic. it's refreshing. most women in this court are so boring."
"i'm not most women."
"no," he agreed, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second before returning to your eyes. "you're not."
the dance continued. he was a skilled partner, guiding you through the steps with an ease that spoke of years of practice. but there was no warmth in it. no connection. just two people playing their parts.
"sooo," he said, his tone conversational. "tell me about yourself, princess. what do you enjoy? embroidery? poetry? plotting the downfall of your enemies?"
"sewing," you said flatly. "reading. avoiding tedious conversations with arrogant men."
"arrogant?" he repeated, feigning offense. "i prefer 'confidently self-aware.'"
"of course you do."
he spun you again, and as you turned, your eyes swept the room. the guests, the decorations, the musicians. and then—
your heart stopped.
there, at the edge of the dance floor, standing in the shadows behind a pillar, was choso.
he was wearing his motley. the same garish red and yellow, the same floppy hat with its tarnished bells. but he looked different. thinner. paler. the bruise on his cheek had darkened to a deep purple, and there were shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights.
he was staring at you.
even from this distance, even across the crowded ballroom, you could feel the weight of his gaze. it was heavy, aching, full of everything he couldn't say.
your breath caught. your step faltered. satoru tightened his grip on your waist, steadying you.
"careful," he said, his voice low. "you almost tripped."
"i'm fine," you said, but your voice was barely a whisper.
"who are you looking at?" satoru asked, his eyes following yours to the edge of the room
you forced yourself to look away. "no one."
"hmm, alright." he didn't sound convinced, but he busied himself with wrapping an arm around you waist.
the dance ended. the crowd applauded. satoru bowed, you curtsied, and then the herald's voice rang out again.
"and now, to entertain the happy couple on this joyous occasion, please welcome our court jester, choso!"
the applause was polite, scattered. choso stepped out from behind the pillar, into the light. the bells on his hat jingled softly as he walked, a sound that made your chest ache.
he reached the center of the ballroom, directly in front of the dais where your father sat. he didn't look at you. he couldn't. if he did, if your father saw the way his eyes lingered, the way his hands trembled—
"ladies and gentlemen!" choso began, his voice carrying across the room. it was steady, but just barely. "i have a few jokes for the happy couple!"
the crowd murmured, interested. your father leaned forward, his expression cold and expectant.
"what do you call a princess who's been promised to a duke?" choso asked, his tone light, almost cheerful. "sold!"
a few nervous laughs. your father's eyes narrowed
"why did the princess bring a ladder to the ball?" choso continued. "because she heard the marriage was a step up!!"
more laughs, louder this time. but they died quickly, swallowed by the tension in the room.
"what's the difference between a jester and a duke?" choso asked, and his voice cracked. just slightly. just enough for you to hear. "the duke always gets the girl, and the jester gets the whips!"
the courtroom fell into an awkward, void of silence.
choso stood there, his hands clenched at his sides, his shoulders rigid. he was looking at the floor, his hair hiding his face. but you could see the way his jaw was clenched, the way his breath came too fast.
your father stood. "enough," he said, his voice cold. "you've had your punishment. now sit down and be quiet."
choso didn't move. for a moment, you thought he might argue. might fight. might say something that would get him killed.
then he bowed. low and deep. a jester's bow, mocking and deferential all at once.
"of course, your majesty," he said, his voice hollow. "anything for the happy couple."
he turned and walked away, his bells jingling with each step. the crowd parted for him, their faces a mix of pity and amusement and discomfort.
you watched him go, your heart breaking all over again.
"well," satoru said beside you, his tone light. "that was depressing. your father's got a real flair for torture, doesn't he?"
you turned to look at him. he was watching you, his blue eyes sharp and knowing.
"you love him," he said. it wasn't a question.
you opened your mouth to deny it. to lie. to protect yourself. but the words simply wouldn't come.
satoru sighed, running a hand through his white hair. "this is going to be a long night."
you watched choso disappear into the shadows at the edge of the ballroom, the last jingle of his bells fading into the murmur of the crowd. your chest felt like it was being crushed under a stone. every instinct screamed at you to run after him, to find him, to hold him and never let go.
but you couldn't. not here. not with hundreds of eyes on you, not with your father watching from his throne like a hawk circling its prey.
"princess."
satoru's voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. you turned to find him studying you with those unnervingly blue eyes, his head tilted slightly, like a cat observing something curious.
"you're crying," he said, matter-of-fact.
you touched your cheek. he was right. tears had slipped free without you noticing, hot tracks down your flushed skin. you wiped them away quickly, glancing toward the dais. your father was deep in conversation with some lord, his attention momentarily diverted.
"i'm fine," you said, your voice brittle.
"you're not fine," satoru said. "you're standing at your engagement ball, crying over another man. that's the opposite of fine. that's a catastrophe."
you flinched. "please don't—"
"oh, relax," he said, his tone shifting. the lazy amusement was gone, replaced by something sharper. more serious. "i'm not going to tell anyone. despite what you clearly think of me, i'm not a complete bastard."
you stared at him, searching his face for the lie. for the trap. you found none.
"why?" you asked. "why would you help me?"
he shrugged, a fluid motion of his broad shoulders. "because i don't want to marry someone who's in love with someone else. call it self-interest. or call it basic human decency. i'm flexible with labels."
your heart hammered. "i didn't say—"
"you didn't have to," he interrupted. "the way you looked at him. the way you're still looking at the door he walked through. it's written all over your face, princess. you're not exactly subtle."
you opened your mouth to argue, to defend yourself, but the words died on your lips. what was the point? he was right. you were terrible at hiding your feelings. elara had seen it. your father had seen it. and now this stranger, this man you'd met barely an hour ago, had seen it too.
"what do you want from me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
"nothing," he said. "i told you. i don't want a loveless marriage any more than you do. my father is pushing this alliance for political reasons. trade routes, border security, the usual boring nonsense. but i have no intention of forcing a woman to be with me against her will.
"then why agree to the betrothal at all?"
"because saying no to my father is... complicated," he said, and for the first time, something flickered in his eyes. something that might have been frustration, or resignation, or pain. "but that's my problem, not yours. right now, your problem is that jester, and the fact that your father looks like he's about to come over here and ask why you're having a private conversation with your betrothed instead of dancing."
you glanced at the dais. your father was indeed looking in your direction, his brow furrowed.
"so here's what's going to happen," satoru said, his voice dropping even lower. "i'm going to go distract your father. i'll challenge him to a game of chess, or bore him with stories about northern grain tariffs, or whatever it takes to keep his attention for the next ten minutes. and you—" he fixed you with a pointed look. "you're going to go find your jester."
your breath caught. "i can't. the guards—"
"are at the doors, not roaming the halls," he said. "the servants' corridor behind the tapestry on the left leads to the east wing. there's a staircase at the end that goes down to the lower levels. he'll be in the servants' quarters. third door on the right."
you stared at him, stunned. "how do you know that?"
"i make it my business to know the layout of every castle i enter," he said simply. "old habit. ten minutes, princess. that's what i can give you. use them wisely."
he turned to leave, then paused, looking back over his shoulder.
"and princess?"
"what?"
"when you see him—" his expression softened, just slightly. "tell him the duke said 'good luck'. it'll give you something to laugh about. you could use a laugh."
before you could respond, he was already walking toward the dais, his stride confident and unhurried. you watched as he approached your father, bowing with exaggerated flourish, his white hair catching the candlelight.
"your majesty!" satoru's voice carried across the room, bright and charming. "i was just telling your daughter about the chess set in my carriage. it's carved from ivory, imported from the eastern kingdoms. i'd love the chance to play you, if you're willing. i hear you're quite the strategist."
your father's face lit up. he loved chess. he loved it more than almost anything, except perhaps power. "is that so? well, your grace, i'd be happy to teach you a lesson or two."
"i look forward to it," satoru said, and as he followed your father toward the side room where the chess sets were kept, he glanced back at you. just once. a quick, almost imperceptible nod.
go.
you didn't hesitate.
you turned and walked quickly toward the edge of the ballroom, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. the crowd parted for you—the princess, the betrothed, the center of attention—and you smiled and nodded and said all the right things while your mind raced.
the tapestry was exactly where satoru had said it would be. a massive woven depiction of a hunting scene, hanging on the left wall near the musicians' gallery. you glanced around, making sure no one was watching, then you slipped behind it.
the servants' corridor was narrow and dim, lit by a single torch at the far end. the air was cooler here, smelling of dust and old stone. you lifted the hem of your gown and hurried down the passage, your wretched heels whispering against the floor.
the staircase was steep and winding, spiraling down into the bowels of the castle. you descended quickly, your hand trailing along the cold stone wall for balance. the sounds of the ballroom faded above you, replaced by the distant clatter of pots and the low murmur of servants' voices.
the lower level was a maze of corridors and rooms—storerooms, kitchens, servants' quarters. you followed satoro's directions, turning left, then right, then left again, until you reached a narrow hallway lined with plain wooden doors.
third door on the right.
you stopped in front of it, your hand raised to knock. your heart was hammering. your palms were sweating. what would you say? what could you say? i'm sorry? i love you? please don't hate me?
you knocked.
silence.
you knocked again, harder this time. "choso?"
nothing.
your heart sank. he wasn't here. satoru had been wrong, or choso had been moved, or—
the door creaked open.
choso stood in the doorway, and the sight of him made your breath catch. he'd changed out of the motley. he was wearing a plain white shirt, untucked, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his hair was damp, like he'd just washed his face. the bruise on his cheek looked worse in the dim light, a dark smear against his pale skin.
he stared at you, his dark eyes wide with shock.
"princess?" he whispered, like he couldn't believe you were real. "what are you—you can't be here. if anyone sees—"
"satoru is distracting my father," you said quickly. "we don't have much time. ten minutes. maybe less."
"satoru?" he repeated, confused.
"the duke. my—" you couldn't say the word. betrothed. it felt like a betrayal just thinking it. "he knows. about us. and he's helping."
choso stared at you, his expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and something that might have been hope. "why would he help?"
"because he's not the monster my father is," you said. "and because he doesn't want to marry someone who loves someone else."
choso flinched at the word. loves. you'd said it without thinking, and now it hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable.
"you shouldn't be here," he said, but his voice was weak, unconvincing. "if your father finds out—"
"i don't care," you said, and you stepped forward, into the room. it was small, sparse—a narrow bed, a wooden chair, a single candle burning on a rough-hewn table. a prison cell dressed up as a bedroom. "i don't care what my father does. i don't care about the marriage, or the alliance, or any of it. i just—"
your voice broke. the tears you'd been holding back all night came flooding forward, hot and relentless.
"i just needed to see you," you whispered. "i needed to know you were okay. i needed to tell you that i'm sorry. that this is my fault. that i never should have let you come to my chambers. that i—"
"stop," he said, and his voice was rough, strained. "stop blaming yourself. this isn't your fault. it's mine. i'm the one who came to you. i'm the one who couldn't stay away. i'm the one who—"
he stopped, his jaw clenching. he looked away, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
"i'm the one who ruined everything," he said quietly.
"you didn't ruin anything," you said, stepping closer. "my father ruined everything. this castle, this life, this—" you gestured helplessly at the space between you. "this prison. you're the only good thing in it.
the words broke something open inside you. the tears came harder, faster, your shoulders shaking with sobs you couldn't control. all the fear, all the grief, all the helplessness of the past three days came pouring out at once.
"hey—hey, no—" choso's voice cracked, and then his arms were around you, pulling you against his chest. "please don't. please, baby— i can't—"
but you couldn't stop. you buried your face in his shirt, your fingers clutching the rough fabric, and you wept. for him, for yourself, for the future that was being stolen from you both.
"shh," he murmured, one hand cradling the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your carefully brushed hair. "shh, i've got you. i'm here."
"i c-can't marry him!" you sobbed against his chest. "i can't. i don't love him. i don't even know him. i love you. i love you and it's not fair—"
"i know," he whispered, and his voice was thick, strained. "i know, i know."
he held you tighter, his chin resting on top of your head, his heartbeat steady and strong against your cheek. you could feel the tension in his body, the way his arms trembled around you, like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
"look at me," he said softly.
you shook your head, pressing closer.
"please." his hand found your chin, tilting your face up with a gentleness that made your chest ache. "please, look at me."
you opened your eyes. his face was blurry through your tears, but you could see the anguish in his dark eyes, the way his jaw was clenched like he was fighting his own breakdown.
"my heart aches when you weep," he said, and his voice was barely a whisper. "it physically hurts. right here." he pressed his free hand against his chest, over his heart. "like something is breaking. and i can't—i can't fix it. i can't make it better. and that's worse than anything your father could ever do to me."
"choso—"
"let me finish." he swallowed hard, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheek. his touch was so gentle, so careful, like you were made of glass. "i need you to know something. whatever happens tomorrow, or next week, or next month—whatever your father does, whatever that duke does—i need you to know that these past months with you have been the best of my life. the only good part. you made me feel like i was worth something. like i wasn't just a fool in a motley. like i was—"
his voice broke. he looked away, blinking hard.
"like you were what?" you whispered, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. his skin was warm, slightly rough with stubble. "tell me."
"like i was yours," he said, and the words were raw, stripped of all pretense. "like i belonged to someone."
you leaned up and kissed him.
it was soft at first. a press of lips, gentle and trembling. a question. a promise. his breath hitched against your mouth, and for a moment he was frozen, like he couldn't believe this was real.
then he kissed you back.
his hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, and he pulled you closer. the kiss deepened, desperate and aching, tasting of salt and sorrow and something sweet underneath. you pressed yourself against him, your hands fisting in his shirt, trying to erase the space between you, trying to crawl inside his skin and stay there.
"i love you," you breathed against his lips. "i love you, i love you, i love you—"
"i know," he murmured, and he was smiling, you could feel it, even through the tears. "i know. i love you too. so much. too much."
"there's no such thing as too much," you said, and kissed him again.
he made a sound low in his throat, something between a groan and a whimper, and his arms wrapped around you completely, lifting you slightly off the ground. your feet left the floor and you gasped into his mouth, your arms looping around his neck.
"you're so warm," he whispered against your jaw, his lips trailing down to your neck. "so gorgeous. i dreamt about this. about you. every night."
"choso—" you tilted your head back, giving him access, and he took full advantage. his mouth found the sensitive spot below your ear, then the curve of your throat, then the hollow at the base of your neck where your pulse hammered.
"tell me to stop," he murmured against your skin. "tell me this is too much. tell me—"
"don't stop," you said, and your voice was stronger now, steadier. "don't you dare stop."
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching your face. "are you sure? if anyone finds out—"
"i don't care," you said, and you meant it with every fiber of your being. "let them find out. let my father know. let the whole kingdom know. i don't care. i'd rather have this—have you—for one night than a lifetime with someone else."
something in his expression shifted. the fear didn't disappear, but it was joined by something else. something fierce and tender and achingly vulnerable.
"you mean that," he said. it wasn't a question.
"i mean it."
he kissed you again, slower this time. deeper. his hands slid down your back, tracing the curve of your spine through the silk of your gown, and you shivered.
"you're so beautiful," he murmured against your lips. "so beautiful it hurts me to look at you."
"you're not so bad yourself," you said, and he huffed a laugh, the sound warm and surprised.
"not so bad," he repeated, shaking his head. "that's the best you can do?"
"i'm a little distracted," you said, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "you're wearing too many clothes."
"so are you," he said, and his hands found the laces at the back of your gown. he hesitated, his fingers trembling. "are you sure? once we—i don't want you to regret—"
you silenced him with another kiss, your own hands pulling his shirt free from his trousers. "i have never been more sure of anything in my life."
he groaned, low and desperate, and then the laces were coming undone, the silk loosening around your body. the gown slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet in a whisper of fabric, and you stood before him in nothing but your thin shift, the candlelight painting your skin in gold and shadow.
choso stared at you like you were the sun. like you were the moon. like you were every star in the sky, and he was a man who'd been living in darkness his entire life.
"you're staring," you said, suddenly self-conscious.
"i know," he said, and his voice was reverent. "i can't help it."
he reached out, his cold fingers tracing the line of your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder, the swell of your breast through the thin fabric of your shift. you shivered, not from cold, but from the intensity of his touch, the way he looked at you like you were something sacred.
"you're shaking," he said softly.
"i'm nervous," you admitted. "i've never—i don't know what to do—"
"neither do i," he said, and the honesty of it made your heart swell. "we'll figure it out together."
he pulled his shirt over his head, and you saw him fully for the first time. he was lean but strong, his torso marked with faint scars—old ones, faded to thin white lines. a life lived in hardship, written on his skin. you reached out, tracing one that ran along his ribs.
"what's this from?" you asked.
"bar fight," he said. "i was fifteen. thought i was tougher than i was."
"and this?" another scar, on his shoulder.
"knife. different bar fight. i was sixteen and even stupider."
you laughed, the sound watery but real. "you were a troublemaker."
"i was a disaster," he corrected. "you're the first good thing that's ever happened to me."
you kissed the scar on his shoulder, then the one on his ribs, then the hollow of his throat where his pulse hammered against your lips. he shuddered, his hands coming up to frame your face.
"you're going to be the death of me," he whispered.
"good," you said. "then we'll die together."
"that's not funny."
"i mean, it's a little funny."
he laughed, and the sound was bright and broken and beautiful, and then he was kissing you again, walking you backward toward the narrow bed. the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you sat, looking up at him.
he knelt before you, his hands on your knees, his dark eyes full of so much love it made your chest ache.
"i want to remember this," he said softly. "every detail. the way you look at me. the way you smell like roses. the way your breath catches when i touch you. i want to carry this with me, no matter what happens."
"nothing is going to happen to you," you said fiercely. "i won't let it."
"princess—"
"don't call me that," you said, pulling him closer. "call me by my name. my real name."
he hesitated, then whispered it like a prayer. the name your mother gave you, the name only your closest family used. the name that meant you, not the crown.
"yes," you said, and pulled him down to you.
his mouth found yours again, hungry and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that made your toes curl. you arched up into him, your hands sliding over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the way his heart hammered against his ribs. he was trembling, you realized. this man who'd faced your father's wrath without flinching, who'd stood in a ballroom full of nobles and made them laugh—he was trembling beneath your touch.
"you're shaking," you whispered against his lips.
"i know," he breathed. "i've wanted this for so long. wanted you. and now you're here and i'm terrified i'll do something wrong, that i'll hurt you, that—"
you silenced him by pulling his head down and kissing him hard, biting his lower lip just enough to make him groan. the sound vibrated through you, low and wrecked, and you felt it everywhere.
"you won't hurt me," you said. "i trust you."
something in him cracked open at that. his eyes went dark, almost black, and his hips rolled against yours. you gasped at the contact, at the hard length of him pressing against your thigh through the fabric of his trousers.
"fuck," he hissed, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "you can't say things like that. i'm barely holding on as it is."
"then don't hold on," you said, and hitched your hip up against him.
he made a sound like a man dying—a choked, desperate moan that went straight through you. his hand slid up your thigh, pushing the thin fabric of your shift higher, his rough palm dragging against your bare skin. you whimpered, your legs falling open instinctively, and he groaned again, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear.
"is this okay?" he asked, his voice wrecked.
"yes. god, yes. don't stop!"
his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, and you both gasped. he touched you carefully at first, almost reverently, his fingertips exploring the slick heat between your legs. you were wet—embarrassingly, overwhelmingly wet—and when his finger slid through your folds, you cried out, your hand flying to cover your mouth.
"quiet, princess." he murmured, but he was smiling. that small, devastating smile. "remember? we have to be quiet."
"then stop touching me like that and i won't have to be quiet," you hissed.
"never," he said, and slid a finger inside you.
the sound you made was barely human. your back arched off the bed, your walls clenching around the intrusion, and choso watched your face like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.
"you're so tight," he breathed. "so— fuck, you feel—i can't even—"
he added a second finger, stretching you slowly, and you bit your lip hard enough to taste blood. the stretch burned, but it was a good burn, a burn that made your hips roll against his hand, chasing the sensation.
"more," you gasped. "p-please, choso— ah! more!"
"i don't want to hurt you," he said, but his fingers were already curling inside you, finding that spot that made your vision white out.
"you're not—oh god—you're not hurting me— you fool!"
he worked you open with his fingers, two then three, stretching you carefully, his thumb circling your clit in slow, maddening strokes. you were making sounds you didn't recognize—whimpers and moans and broken little cries that you muffled against his shoulder.
"that's it," he murmured against your ear. "that's my girl, let me hear you. i want to hear what i do to you."
"we have to be quiet—" you panted.
"then bite me," he said, and you did. you sank your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder and he groaned, his fingers pumping faster, harder, hitting that spot inside you that made your legs shake.
"choso—i'm—i think i'm going to—"
"i know," he said, and his thumb pressed harder against your clit. "i can feel it. you're squeezing my fingers so tight. let go, baby. let go for me."
the pet name undid you. you came with a sob muffled against his shoulder, your walls pulsing around his fingers, your whole body shaking with the force of it. he held you through it, his fingers still moving, drawing out the pleasure until you were gasping and oversensitive.
"too much!" you whimpered, pushing at his hand.
he withdrew his fingers slowly, and you watched, dazed, as he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean. his eyes never left yours, and the sight of it—this serious, quiet man tasting you on his fingers with an expression of pure reverence—made your core clench with want.
"you taste like honey," he said, his voice rough. "i knew you would."
"choso," you breathed, pulling him down for a kiss. you could taste yourself on his tongue, sweet and musky, and it made you dizzy. "i want you. all of you. please."
he nodded, his hands going to the laces of his trousers. his fingers were shaking so badly he could barely work them, and you reached down to help, your own hands trembling. together, you pushed the fabric down his hips, and his cock sprang free.
you stared. he was hard—achingly, painfully hard—the tip flushed dark and leaking. he was bigger than you'd expected, thicker, and a flicker of nervousness ran through you.
"i'll go slow," he said, reading your expression. "i promise. if it's too much, you tell me and i'll stop. alright?"
"okay," you whispered.
he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. you could feel the heat of him, the way he throbbed against your slick folds. he pushed forward, just the tip, and you gasped at the stretch.
"breathe," he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours. "breathe for me."
you breathed. he pushed in another inch, and the burn was intense, almost too much. your hands flew to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.
"shit—" he choked. "you're so tight. so fucking tight. you feel—god, you feel like heaven."
"m-more!" you said, even though it hurt. "i want a-all of you."
he sank into you slowly, inch by excruciating inch, giving you time to adjust. the stretch was enormous, bordering on painful, but underneath the pain was something else—a fullness, a completeness, like a piece of you that had been missing had finally clicked into place.
when he was fully seated inside you, you both went still. he was breathing hard, his arms trembling where they braced on either side of your head, his cock pulsing inside you.
"okay?" he asked, his voice strained.
"yeah," you whispered. "just—give me a second."
he kissed you softly, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your eyes sting. then you rolled your hips experimentally, and you both groaned.
"move," you said. "please move."
he pulled out slowly, almost all the way, then pushed back in. the slide was easier this time, your body accommodating him, and the sensation was—
"oh," you breathed. "oh, that's—"
"y-yeah," he agreed, and did it again. and again. and again.
he found a rhythm, slow and deep, his hips rolling against yours in a way that made your toes curl. each thrust hit that spot inside you, the one his fingers had found, and pleasure built in your belly like a wave gathering strength.
"h-harder," you gasped. "choso, please, harder!"
he obliged, his hips snapping forward with more force. the bed creaked beneath you, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm. you bit your lip to keep from crying out, but small, desperate sounds still escaped—whimpers and moans and broken little pleas.
"you feel so good," he groaned against your neck. "so fucking good. i-i never want to leave this. i never want to be anywhere but inside you."
"don't stop," you panted. "cho!"
he shifted his angle, hooking one of your legs over his arm, opening you wider, and the next thrust hit so deep you saw stars. you cried out, unable to help it, and he clapped a hand over your mouth.
"quiet, remember?" he said, but he was smiling. that devastating, beautiful smile. "or do you want the whole castle to know what we're doing?"
you bit his palm and he hissed, his hips stuttering.
"brat," he growled, and fucked into you harder.
the pleasure was building again, coiling tight in your belly, and you could feel your walls starting to clench around him. choso groaned, his rhythm faltering.
"you're squeezing me," he panted. "fuck, you're going to make me—i'm not going to last—"
"it's okay," you gasped. "let go. i've got you."
"not without you," he said, and his hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again. he rubbed tight, fast circles, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, and the combination was devastating.
you came with a scream muffled against his hand, your walls clamping down on him so hard he choked. the orgasm ripped through you like a storm, wave after wave of pleasure that left you shaking and gasping and seeing white.
"fuck—fuck—" choso groaned, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm. "i'm—i'm coming—"
"yes," you breathed. "yes, come inside me. i want to feel it."
he buried himself to the hilt and came with a broken cry, his cock pulsing deep inside you. you felt the heat of it, the way he filled you, and the sensation pushed you into another smaller orgasm that made you clench around him.
he collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, both of you breathing hard. his face was buried in your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.
"that was—" he started.
"incredible," you agreed.
you lay there for a long moment, tangled together, his cock still inside you, both of you trembling in the aftermath. the candle had burned low, casting long shadows across the room. somewhere above you, the ball was still going on. music drifted down through the floor, faint and distant.
"we should—" you started.
"i know," he said, but he didn't move.
"choso."
"i know," he said again, and pulled out slowly. you winced at the loss, at the ache between your legs. he rolled onto his back beside you, pulling you against his chest. you went willingly, curling into his side, your head resting over his heart.
"ten minutes is probably up," you said quietly.
"probably."
"we should get dressed."
"probably."
neither of you moved.
"i don't want to go back," you whispered. "i don't want to face them. my father, the duke, all of it."
"i know," he said, his hand stroking your hair. "but we have to. if we don't, they'll come looking for you. and then—"
"and then it'll be worse," you finished.
he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "well, it might be better."
you pulled back to look at him, your heart hammering. "what?"
choso was staring at the ceiling, his jaw tight, his dark eyes burning with something fierce and desperate. "what if we run away? right now. tonight. we sneak out through the servants' entrance, past the stables. i know a man in the village who'll sell us horses for cheap. we could be gone before anyone even realizes you're missing."
"no way!—"
"i'm serious." he sat up, turning to face you. his hand found yours, cold fingers intertwining with your warm ones. "we could go north. past the mountains, into the free territories where your father's reach doesn't extend. we could find a small town, somewhere quiet. i could find work—real work, not juggling or jesting. and you could—"
"sew," you finished, your voice barely a whisper. "i could sew."
"yes." his eyes were bright, almost feverish. "we could have a life. a real life. not this—" he gestured around the sparse room, the narrow bed, the flickering candle. "not cages and crowns and men who think they own us."
your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. the idea was insane. reckless. impossible. and yet—
"my father would hunt us," you said. "he'd send guards. he'd—"
"let him send them," choso said, and there was a fire in his voice you'd never heard before. "i'm not afraid of your father. i'm not afraid of his guards or his dukes or his armies. the only thing i'm afraid of is losing you. of standing in that ballroom and watching you marry another man. of living the rest of my life knowing i could have fought for you and didn't."
you stared at him, this man who'd been a jester, a fool, a man who couldn't make anyone laugh. but he wasn't a fool. he never had been. he was brave and fierce and so full of love it made your chest ache.
"you'd really do that?" you whispered. "give up everything? your home, your—"
"you are my home," he said simply. "you're the only home i've ever had."
your eyes burned. your vision blurred. you were crying again, but this time it wasn't from grief. it was from something else. something bright and terrifying and beautiful.
"yes," you said.
"yes?"
"yes. let's run. let's go. right now!"
his face transformed. the fear, the tension, the anguish—it all melted away, replaced by something radiant. something that looked like hope.
"you mean it?" he asked, his voice cracking.
"i mean it." you squeezed his hand. "i've never meant anything more."
he kissed you then, hard and desperate, his hands framing your face like you were the most precious thing in the world. you kissed him back with everything you had, pouring every ounce of love and fear and reckless, stupid hope into it.
then you pulled apart, both of you breathing hard.
"okay," you said, your mind racing. "okay. we need a plan. we can't just run out the door. we need—"
"clothes," he said. "money. supplies. i have a few coins hidden in my room. not much, but enough for horses and food for a few days."
"i have jewelry," you said, already thinking. "my mother's necklace. the sapphire earrings. they're worth a fortune. we could sell them in the village."
"your mother's necklace?" he repeated, his expression softening. "you'd give that up?"
"she'd want me to be happy," you said, and the words were true. your mother had died when you were seven, but you remembered her warmth, her laughter, the way she'd held you and told you that love was the only thing that mattered. "she'd want me to choose love."
choso's eyes glistened. he blinked hard, looking away. "okay. okay. so we get the jewelry, get the coins, get to the stables—"
"the guards," you interrupted. "there are two at my door. and more at every exit."
"the servants' entrance," he said. "it's unguarded after midnight. the servants use it to come and go. if we wait until the ball ends, until everyone is drunk and distracted—"
"we slip out with the servants," you finished. "yes. that could work."
"it has to work," he said. "because i'm not losing you. not now. not after—" his voice broke. "not after tonight."
you kissed him again, softer this time.
"we should get dressed," you said reluctantly. "before someone comes looking."
you both rose from the bed, and the absence of his warmth made you shiver. you found your shift on the floor, pulling it over your head, then stepped back into your gown. the silk felt different now. heavier. like a costume you were ready to shed.
choso helped you with the laces, his fingers steady now, no longer trembling. when he was done, he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, and you felt it all the way down to your toes.
"there," he said. "perfect."
you turned to face him. he was pulling on his shirt, his trousers, covering up the body you'd just memorized. you wanted to tear the clothes off him again, to drag him back to that narrow bed and lose yourself in him.
but there wasn't time. there would be time later. a lifetime of time, if you were brave enough to take it.
"i need to go back to my chambers," you said. "get the jewelry. change into something less—" you gestured at the elaborate gown. "less conspicuous."
"meet me at the servants' entrance at two in the morning," he said. "that's when the last of the servants will be heading to bed. we'll slip out with them."
"two in the morning," you repeated. "i'll be there."
he cupped your face in his hands, his dark eyes searching yours. "if you change your mind—if this is too much, too dangerous—i'll understand. i'll go alone. i'll disappear. you can tell your father i kidnapped you, that you had no choice. he'll believe you. you can marry your duke and live a comfortable life and forget—"
"stop," you said firmly. "i'm not changing my mind. i'm not forgetting you. and i'm not marrying anyone but you."
his breath hitched. "you mean that?"
"every word."
he kissed you one last time, slowly and deeply, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. then he pulled away, his hands dropping to his sides.
"go," he said. "before i change my mind and keep you here forever."
you smiled, even as your heart ached. "at two in the morning."
"at two in the morning."
you opened the door, checking the corridor. empty. you slipped out, your gown gathered in your hands, your heart pounding. you made it three steps before his voice stopped you.
"princess."
you turned. he was standing in the doorway, backlit by the candle, his dark eyes full of everything.
"i love you," he said. "i love you so much."
you giggled. "you're such a sap!"
his face broke into that devastating smile. "if being a sap gets me that laugh, then so be it."
you turned and walked away, your heart so full it hurt. the corridor stretched before you, dark and winding, but for the first time in your life, you weren't afraid of where it led.
you were going to run. you were going to be free. you were going to choose love.
and nothing—not your father, not his guards, not the duke with his electric blue eyes and his easy smile—was going to stop you.
—
you made it back to your chambers without incident. the guards at your door barely glanced at you as you slipped inside, your cheeks flushed, your hair slightly moussed, your gown rumpled in ways that would have given elara a heart attack.
but elara wasn't there. the room was empty, the fire burning low, the bed turned down.
you moved quickly, pulling open the drawer of your vanity where you kept your mother's jewelry. the necklace was there, nestled in its velvet box—a delicate gold chain with a single sapphire pendant, the same blue as your eyes. you clasped it around your neck, feeling the weight of it against your skin.
the earrings came next. small, elegant, catching the firelight. you tucked them into a small pouch, along with a few other pieces you thought you could sell. a ruby brooch. a pearl bracelet. your grandmother's ring.
then you changed. you stripped off the elaborate gown and pulled on a simple dress—dark blue, practical, with a hooded cloak draped over the back of a chair. you laced it yourself, your fingers steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins.
you packed a small bag. a change of clothes. a hairbrush. the handkerchief you'd sewn for him, the one with the embroidered roses. you tucked it into the bag, your fingers lingering on the stitches.
then you sat by the window and waited.
the hours crawled by. you watched the moon climb the sky, watched the candles in the ballroom below burn low, watched the guests begin to drift away. the music faded. the lights dimmed. the castle settled into an uneasy sleep.
one o'clock. one-thirty. one forty-five.
you stood, slinging the bag over your shoulder. your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. this was it. the point of no return.
you opened your door. the guards were still there, but they were drowsy, leaning against the wall, their eyes half-closed.
"i'm going to the chapel," you said, your voice steady. "to pray. for my marriage."
the guards exchanged a glance. "your highness, it's nearly two in the morning—"
"i'm aware of the time," you said coolly. "are you going to stop me from praying?"
they stepped aside.
you walked past them, your chin high, your pace measured. you didn't run. you didn't look back. you just walked, calm and composed, until you were out of sight.
then you ran.
through the corridors, down the stairs, past the tapestry and into the servants' passage. your bag bounced against your hip, your breath came in short gasps, and your heart hammered against your ribs.
the servants' entrance was at the end of a long, narrow corridor. you could see it—a heavy wooden door, slightly ajar, cool night air seeping through the gap.
and there, leaning against the wall, waiting for you, was choso.
he'd changed too. he was wearing dark clothes—a simple tunic, trousers, sturdy boots. his motley was gone, and without it, he looked different. older. harder. like a man who'd made a decision and was ready to face the consequences.
he saw you and straightened, his dark eyes widening.
"you came," he breathed.
"i told you i would," you said.
he crossed the distance between you in two strides, his hands finding your waist, pulling you close. you went willingly, your arms looping around his neck, your forehead pressing against his.
"are you sure?" he asked one last time. "once we go through that door, there's no going back."
you pulled back to look at him. "i've never been more sure of anything."
he smiled. that small, devastating, beautiful smile. "then let's go."
he took your hand, his cold fingers intertwining with your warm ones, and together, you pushed open the door and stepped out into the night.
the air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of rain and earth and freedom. the moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light over the castle grounds. the stables were to the left, dark and quiet. the village beyond, a cluster of lights in the distance.
♯ really need to step up my writing skills.. please never get bored of my domestic choso
Dating Choso for a few months had been surprisingly normal.
At first, he was quiet, respectful of your space, and very careful with every touch.
Honestly, you thought he'd always be that shy. How can you not? He'd hold your hands gently, sitting closely but not too close, and ask before kissing you.
Then somewhere along the way, something changed.
Maybe he was getting comfortable. But whatever the reason was, your boyfriend slowly transformed into the clingiest man alive.
"Choso."
"Hm?"
You turned your head to look at him, letting out a small laugh. "Why are you standing there?"
He blinked once. "I missed you."
You tilted your head. "I was gone for five minutes, to the bathroom."
"It felt longer," He frowned slightly.
You laughed under your breath, turning back toward the kitchen counter. "You're getting clingy."
Quiet footsteps approached behind you.
Then, you felt his warmth behind you. His arms slipped around your waist with his chin settled on top of your head, like this had become a second nature to him.
"Choso," you sighed fondly. "I'm trying to cook here."
"You can still do that," he murmured.
"Not when my boyfriend is attached to me."
"I like being close to you."
Over time, he grew clingier in small ways.
Hand resting on your thigh whenever you sat next to each other, quietly following you around the apartment, pulling you back into bed whenever you tried getting up.
Today was no different.
You had almost escaped, almost.
Your foot was already on the floor, ready to start the day.
Then the mattress dipped behind you. A sleepy groan echoed through the room before something warm enveloped your waist.
"Mm, stay," he grumbles.
You laughed quietly. "Good morning to you too," you whispered.
You glanced over your shoulder to look at him. His hair was a mess, eyes barely open as he clung to you.
"Too early," he mumbled as he buried his face deeper against your back.
"It's almost ten."
"So?"
"So.. it's not early?" You said, rubbing his hair.
His arms tightened slightly around your waist as you tried to move again.
"Just stay."
You sighed. "I need to get up."
Suddenly, you were pulled backward onto the mattress with a surprised laugh. Choso immediately curled around you again.
"Hey!" You tried to push him, playfully, but he won't move.
You turned slightly in his hold, only to find him already staring at you with those sleepy eyes.
"Let's make a deal, Cho," you said suddenly.
Choso blinked once before propping his head with his hand.
"What deal?"
"You let me get out of bed," you added. "And when i come back, we can cuddle all day. Maybe we can have lunch in bed?"
Choso went quiet immediately.
Slowly, his grip on your waits loosened.
"Lunch in bed?"
"Mhm."
"Together, right?"
You laughed softly. "Of course."
Choso hummed thoughtfully, still unconvinced. But after a moment, he finally let his arm fall away from your waist.
"Fine," he mumbled. "But make it quick."
You smiled triumphantly, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Deal."
The second you pulled away, Choso caught your wrist again.
"Can you bring me with you?"
You tilted your head. "To.. where?"
"Wherever you're going."
"Wherever i'm going," you repeated, trying not to smile. "Even when i'm brushing my teeth?"
"Mhm," Choso nodded against the pillow. "I'll wait."
You stared at him for a moment before pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.
"You're actually attached to me now."
Choso leaned in to the kiss, looking completely unashamed. "I don't see a problem."
choso getting jealous of his plushie counterpart...
at first, choso was flattered.
when you brought that tiny, overpriced, uncanny plush of him home, he was wondered at just how attached you were to it.
"look cho! look how cute it is! it looks just like you!"
he looks at it indifferently as you squish plush-choso's head, cooing and talking to it in a baby voice.
choso stares at it, the soft felt of the brown hair, the stitched on eyebags and the empty eyes.
i guess it is cute… he thinks to himself, smiling lightly.
that was when you had first bought plush-choso, and when choso still had a few feelings of affection for it. if you liked it that much, then surely it was something good…
a few weeks had passed. and sure, it was good for you, but it certainly wasn't for choso.
he never could've dreamed he would get side swept by a literal plushie. and a carbon copy of him at that!
all the sudden, it was all you cared about. you bought a tiny little case for the plush, protecting it against the elements of nature and also making it easier to hang on your bag. then, you decorated it with tons of stickers—all purple, reminiscent of him.
he stared at plush-choso, all decorated and dolled up, sitting politely on your dresser, smiling stupidly. he was still confused at this moment. why would you spend such time on a plushie when you had the real thing right next to you?
questions swirled around choso's head, but he didn't dare ask them after seeing how happy it made you. you would bring him along on dates, snapping pictures of the plush held against various things, like the colorful sunset, the fancy places he would take you to, the food he got you—anything that piqued your interest, you would put plush-choso next to and take a pic.
it was starting to feel like he was getting his own girlfriend stolen. by none other than felt and cotton. it was embarrassing to even admit that to himself.
he tried his very hardest to keep that jealousy aside (it was humiliating to show he was envious of a plushie), to hold it down, and to wait patiently for when you're done fooling around with the plush, then try to steer your attention back towards him.
he'd gently tug on your hand once you'd finish snapping a picture with his plushie, pulling you closer to him. and when you're done positioning the mini version of him next to the plate of food, he'd reach over and grab a bite, teasing you into giving him more attention.
that was his plan, but nothing seemed to be working. nothing seemed to get that plush off your hip, bag, or palm of your hand.
so, in the dead of the night, choso gets up and sneaks his way to your desk, where plush-choso hung like a glorified medal. lightly, he plucks it off and takes his time to examine it.
this is the thing stealing my girlfriend away from me…
the plush stares at him back.
plans start forming in his mind. now that he has it, what should he do? hide it?
no, he wouldn't do that to you. with how much you liked it, it would just be plain rude to hide it away and stress you out.
maybe he'll wait until you're bored of it? no, that wouldn't work either. choso wanted to be patient, but he couldn't fathom standing next to you for another second as you dote on the mini version of him. that was not happening.
what about…
choso looks around him, searching for clues. he stands there, in the middle of the room for about five minutes until he realizes that he never had a plan in the first place, nor will the concept of one appear in his head any time soon.
he sighs and puts the plush back, admitting defeat.
for now…
he'll just have to wait and observe. right up to the moment he can properly shift all your focus onto him.
the moment happens spontaneously. choso never intended that it would work; but who was he to complain? he lies in your arms, feeling awfully smug, having gotten your attention back.
it didn't involve stealing, hiding, or silently brooding in the dark.
all it took was one jump onto your body when you were in bed, his warm heavy weight on yours, and all was forgotten.
the mattress bounces as he smothers you, your laugh muffled by his shoulder and his content sigh.
the plushie lays next to the two of you, only vaguely forgotten. but choso has won this battle today; and he will revel in the glory of victory.
"choso… you're like a cat!" you smile.
he grumbles.
"you just purred!"
choso wants to rebuke this statement—but does he really? it feels better to be doted on than to resist this feeling you're giving him. he fears that any semblance of resistance and you're back to clinging onto that plushie.
he snuggles in tighter. you laugh. the sound is like a healing spell on his ears when that laughter is caused by him, not some cheap cotton ripoff of the real thing.
ahh… seriously, if he knew that this was really all it took to steal your attention back, then he would've never missed the chance to jump into your arms, into your softness.
he tilts his head upward and kisses you on the chin, smiling. you squeeze his pigtails in an order of intimacy you both had always shared before plush-choso came onto the scene and replaced choso for a moment.
but now you realize the tiny little plush could never bring the same sense of warmth, of security, and the feeling of being truly loved back that real choso gave you. and it couldn't kiss you back, couldn't hug you tightly in its stubby arms and you couldn't hug him back without awkwardly bending your arms in an uncomfortable position, where choso would've slid perfectly in as if he were molded to be there.
your heart swells. were you really this ignorant this entire time?
"i'm sorry, cho," you say, massaging his scalp.
"i'm sorry as well. didn't mean to be so—" he shifts, "jealous."
you laugh. "don't need to apologize, baby."
"really then?" you can feel his smirk through your shirt. "then promise me you'll never ignore me again."
"i promise," you say, reaching down to interlock your pinky with his.
the plushie smiles into the ceiling, patiently waiting its turn.
a/n: the next week you make a cardboard cutout of him and he almost passes out because a) "why is there another me in this room" b) "oh my god are we gonna repeat the plushie choso incident please no oh please no"
...guess who got a choso chibigurumi
jjk m.list // main m.list // dividers by @.diviniyae
Letting Choso use blood manipulation to keep his cock up
You promised your sweet Choso you would be able to handle it if he went a little bit harder on you during sex.
He was just so reluctant, deciding he would rather die than hurt you during something that should be intimate and personal. Plus, Choso liked it best when you went hard on him.
Then, you brought up him using his cursed technique to keep his cock up longer during sex. If he wasn’t sold on going harder on you, at the very least he could fuck you for even longer than usual.
Initially, Choso said no. He was worried that something might go wrong and hurt you.
The thought of it, however, stayed on his mind over the course of the next week. Having you bouncing on his dick for hours on end, pretty pussy squeezing him into his tenth orgasm? That sounded like heaven.
He just couldn’t sit around any longer without making this fantasy come true.
So as soon as you got home from work, he pounced.
Now, Choso has had his cock in you for you don't even know how long. Every position, every angle--and he hadn't gone soft once.
"F-Fuck, 'Cho!" You cried out, bouncing up and down on his rock-hard dick. Choso was a whiny mess under you, a few tears slowly rolling down his face. Using his technique hadn't made him unable to feel pleasure after a while; in fact, it only made the sensations more prominent.
His large hands gripped your waist, guiding you up and down, back and forth. The slowed to roll of your hips, then sped you up, making sure you would be able to feel every vein against your gummy walls.
A loud, high-pitched moan came from your mouth when Choso slammed you down onto his cock, tip kissing your cervix with every rough bounce.
Cunt gripping him tight, the feeling turned into one that was mixed with an undertone of soreness. After being fucked all evening, it was surprising your pussy hadn't fallen apart.
The all-too-familiar feeling rose in your lower belly again, the same one you'd experienced at least five different times earlier.
"Baby, I'm gonna... shit!" Choso grunted, cumming in you again without warning. Strings of cum pulled from his skin to your every time you rose, a sticky mess piling under you.
He couldn't just leave you without another climax. Choso thrusted his hips upwards, heavy-lidded eyes watching your tits bounce and face contort.
Your orgasm ripped through your sore cunt, milking Choso's spent cock. Coming to a slow, Choso lifted your hips, helping you off his dick.
You hissed, hole feeling stretched and empty without Choso inside of you. Completely drained, you collapsed onto the bed next to him, watching his cock go soft as he released his technique.
"We should do this more often." Choso mumbled.
Turning your head to look at him, you raised an eyebrow. "Really? You're so cautious, I assumed this would be a one-time thing."
"I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would." He blushed, looking away from you with a soft grin.
Choso chalked up the lack of response to you being busy. He was surprised you were even in the tutoring program if he was being honest. You worked at some theme park on the weekends, Monday-Wednesday you were a TA in three separate classes, Friday, you volunteered at the animal shelter downtown.
Granted, he knew it was probably for credit and to look good on job applications later, but it was still mad impressive to him. And now, on your only off day, you were tutoring the biggest fuck up in Sigma-Delta House. Ryomen had been on his ass about grades all semester and finally signed up Choso for tutoring without the latter’s knowledge.
Not that he minded now anyway, not when his tutor was hot as fuck, and smart too. The first session he couldn't stop glancing at her lips when she was looking down at the textbook he'd brought- and also never opened. He'd swallowed when her tongue darted out to wet her lips before she looked up to explain something.
He was pretty sure he had evaded her seeing his gaze, she hadn't mentioned it. He stalked her social media that night- and by stalked, he'd only seen her profile picture because her account was private.
He debated asking Satoru to request to follow her for him but he definitely threw that thought out at the mere thought of that albino rat talking to her.
He shook his head with a groan as he strode down one sidewalk of the quad, a hand rubbing over his face. His view was only obstructed for a few seconds but in those seconds, he collided with someone. His hands darted out on instinct, hands steadying the girl by her hips- you, he realized.
“Woah, sor-” he paused, noting the tears streaming down your cheeks. “What happened?” He asks, releasing his grip on you but staying close.
“Sorry,” you sniff, shaking your head, “it’s stupid.”
“Well, you're crying, so it can’t be all that stupid.” He said, wry smile on his lips, he schooled his expression back when he realized you weren't laughing.
“My professor- in my astrophysics, he gave me online assignments to grade. So, I did- based on the rubric. Some guy got pissed off that I gave him low marks because he didn't correctly explain how he came to his conclusions, he just wrote the answers. My professor was on my side when the guy made a complaint and since it was an online test, there was supposed to be a recording.”
“So, my prof went to the video records and saw that the guy had something obstructing the feed. The guy said he has a computer cover and he forgot to remove it but my professor looked into it and the guy had actually been on sites during the test and was getting answers- and they were basic questions too! Like ‘What holds galaxies together?’ And then for ‘The study of the origin, evolution, and structure of the universe,’ he wrote 'cosmetology’...”
Choso looked at you blankly at that and you sighed.
“It’s 'cosmology,’ which should be easy for anyone in our class to remember. Cosmetology is like skincare and makeup.”
Choso hummed. “So, he got caught cheating and is pissed at you?”
“More than pissed, his ‘lawyer’ sent me an email that if I don’t take back my 'complaint,’ that I'd be sued for defamation. If the guy had a real lawyer, he'd see that I didn't file any complaint, our professor did. Plus, he can't sue me for defamation since I never said anything publicly.”
“He's trying to sue you?” He snorted, pursing his lips when your teary eyes glared up at him.
“It’s serious! If he actually tries to go through with this bullshit, it could get on my record, future employers will see that and even if it’s proven false, they'll see that I've been in drama and decide that they don’t need that in-”
“Geez, you're quite the overthinker.” He gave you a look when you glared again. “He's not gonna sue you, stop stressing. You're tense enough as is.”
“You don’t know if I'm tense.” You scoff.
“Right, the string holding you pin straight is just my imagination.”
“What kind of analogy is that?"
“I don't know, I watched a scooby-doo episode with my brother about puppets last night, still fresh on the mind.”
“You have a brother?” You ask, brow furrowing.
“Two actually, Ryomen and a little brother, Yuji.”
“Your frat leader Ryomen?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you're a nepo-frat guy.”
Choso snorted. “I guess I qualify in that regard, yeah.”
"You guys look nothing alike."
"We get that a lot, yeah." He said, small smile on his lips.
“How old is Yuji? If he's watching scooby-doo?”
“Oh, he's a baby. He's four.”
“Wh-? I thought you moved here from LA? Your parents moved here too?”
“Actually they uh..they passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh- Shit, I'm sorry.” He waved you off.
“No, no, don’t be. Unless you killed them.” He looked at you with mock suspicion.
“They were murdered?!” You ask, appalled.
“No,” he laughed. “You're so easy.” You swat at his arm.
“Shut up! I thought I'd brought up decades of trauma!”
“Relax, my trauma’s buried deep.”
You pursed your lips, head tilting. “I don’t think that's the reassurance I was hoping for.”
“It’s all I got, princess.” He said in faux exasperation.
“So, does Yuji live in the frat house?” You change the subject.
“Nah, Ryo and I are off campus, he got special permission since our dad was the biggest donor for so long, it apparently was in his contract with the school.”
“Must be nice to have security like that- not to sound like bitter, I'm being gen-”
“I know, you're too cute to be mean.” He said playfully, patting your head and smirking when you once again swat at him.
“Stop hitting on me, Kamo.”
“Stop being so likeable, L/n.” He hummed.
“I think you need to raise your standards.”
Choso looked at you weird. “You're like…the standard.”
You snorted. “Hardly. I'm not really pretty, I'm always busy, don’t prioritize friends-”
“Okay- busy, friends, I can get. But pretty? Y/n, you're…beautiful.”
“Do you need glasses?”
“No, but I think you need your prescription checked. You're beautiful, physically, yeah, but also your ambition and ethic.”
“..Um, thank.,you.” You said awkwardly, looking like you hadn't received a compliment, maybe ever.
“...Yeah. Well. I gotta run, Yuji gets out of daycare soon and I promised I'd take him to get a spiderman hoodie from the mall if he behaved all week.”
“Right, yeah. Sorry for taking time from your-”
“Stop apologizing, I liked talking to you. And don’t worry about the cheating situation, I'll take care of it.”
“What do you mean you’ll-” he smiled, already starting to rush off. “Kamo! What the hell do you mean you'll take care of it!?” You yelled after him, rolling your eyes when he disappeared from view.
“Who’s the chick?” Toji asked Choso when he rounded the corner toward the parking lot, having seen you two talking.
Ok, this was my draft of pt 2 of the Choso Gomez x Mortica reader.
I decided to change the entire plot of this part because I don't think the college thing fit in that well.
Also not proofread. (Im not using the list for this one since it's technically not a part of the story.)
Age 17
The house was empty, and you were absolutely bored out of your mind.
After the shenanigans you’d pulled at summer camp with Choso, your mother had locked you up in the house's attic, now your new room. You were basically Rapunzel.
But it wasn’t as if you would ever wear her tasteless purple pastels. Disgusting. The darkest purple would be most befitting for your next dress if you’d truly play the role.
You hadn’t heard from Choso since you’d been pried away from his hands for the second time. You two held on to each other viciously. It even took the police to pull you apart.
His family paid off the cops & victims so no charges would be pressed. They were all too scared of the Adams, anyway.
With money definitely comes an immense amount of power.
Your mother vowed you would never see the boy again, not in any lifetime, not in any social space, not in public, never.
Choso's mother wasn’t particularly against your romantic connection. She’d like the union more than anything, but she knew your mother felt particularly about the matter.
You understood the extent of your mother's protection, but you wanted her to see the power of your connection with Choso.
You two weren’t just ‘in love'; it was something stronger. You two depended on each other to breathe.
He was the bow to your arrow. He was the sun to your earth. He was the space to your time. He was the key to your lock. The moon in your tide. He was the breath to your lungs.
He was the nurturer of a rose that's been cut. The nutrients will keep the rose alive until its most critical moment. The rose will eventually perish, but it will die with nutrients that fought to keep it alive.
Choso was your nutrient, and you were the rose. Without him, you couldn’t survive in this world.
When you were separated “permanently” from Choso, you’d never cried so hard in your life. Tears weren’t even in your vocabulary.
But it's important to know that you two can’t be split without mutually assured destruction.
Death.
You’d already planned your death, dramatic and agonizing. You’d find a way out of the room and leap passionately off the roof.
If your intuition served you right, he’d die in another manner of his choice. Maybe you’d meet your beloved in a divine reunification, or maybe you’d seek each other out in the afterlife.
A few days later
You’d walked over to sit on the window seat in your room. The sky radiated awful rays of sunshine.
You wondered why your mother was so against you and Choso’s relationship.
As you thought far back, you remembered her words about wanting your sister Ophelia to marry well. That was the first time you’d heard his name.
Ophelia told you all about how she really didn’t want to marry him because he's too dark. Ophelia was bright and cheery. She was your polar opposite.
Ophelia loved vibrant clothes and flowers, while you preferred dark clothes and flower stems with thorns.
Ophelia and him just wouldn’t mix. Choso was allergic to flower petals anyway!
Your mother always preferred Ophelia to you. She was the ideal daughter. Even Mother preferred her dainty looks to yours.
You were her disappointment. You’d surely be stuck as a maid till she died if it were up to her.
Outside the window, you saw the chirp of a dark crow outside. It was tapping at the window. It had a piece of paper in its beak, a letter perhaps.
You opened it slowly, not wanting to startle the animal. It dropped the black envelope into the window and quickly flew off.
On the front of it lay ‘To [y/n], mon cher,' written in white ink.
You quickly used your sharp nail to open the letter. Struggling to even open the envelope out of excitement.
“My love, my heart, my despair,
I am most pained by our foul separation at the hands of your mother. I don’t think I've felt a greater pain than facing our separation.
I have contemplated taking my life just for the sake of it so that if I were a ghost, I'd be able to haunt you. I have not been able to get over my tears, wallowing for a year in a puddle of tears.
I’ve decided I cannot be without you any longer, my love. Even if it kills me, I will have your hand. I miss the smell of death from your hair. The dark garb that fits your body exquisitely.
I need to feel your delicately cold hands upon mine.
I hope upon my last breathe you will receive this letter. I have devised a way for us to be with one another.
I will depart to college this fall. I am aware you also will be finished with yours soon. You should soon be legally allowed to free yourself from your mother's constraints.
I believe it possible for us to be able to meet again at the university.
We will be attending Thorn University, but my mother will tell yours that I'm going to West Elm.
2 years ago you spoke about being able to go to Thorn. Knowing that you’ve probably applied.
And with your smarts, you’ll definitely be admitted.
We will meet again soon, my love."
You hugged the letter to your chest as a warm tear slid down your face. Oh, how you missed him. You knew he'd figure something out. The man has an IQ off the charts.
Convincing mother to let you go to a private university wouldn’t be hard at all! She’ll suspect nothing since Choso would be going to West Elm, which is all the way in Romania.
You were sitting at the dinner table as Mother and Ophelia chatted away about her senior year. Ophelia attended a prestigious private school while you were subjected to having a private tutor.
Ophelia was also slightly older, yet you skipped 2 grades to reach senior year the same time as her. Still, Mother favored her.
Ophelia spoke of her cheer team, drama club & botany clubs. None of which interested you.
Eventually they reached talks of university, in which Ophelia said she’d been accepted to West Elm.
Perfect.
Mother turned toward you, an evil grin on her lips. “I am so proud of you, Ophelia. I hear Choso will be attending as well."
What a spiteful woman. Her desire to be evil is almost envyable.
All you did was smirk, trying not be too obvious.
You finished your food in silence, then went back to your room, happy that in a few months you’ll see your death-fated soulmate.
Over the past few months you’ve sent letters back and forth to Choso. Somehow your mother never managed to find out.
Recently you wrote to him about a premonition you had of you and him sharing a romantic kiss. You were in a dark purple velour dress while he wore a matching silk suit.
His next letter would be forthcoming soon, so all you do is wait for his crow to reach the window.
You read your copy of Frankenstein to pass the time. In the middle of a paragraph, you hear a startling thud hit the window.
The crow held a huge package. It was surely tired. You pulled the package in and told the crow to wait.
You fetched it some water and birdseed. You'd gotten in the habit of feeding him. He was quite useful in your and Choso's endeavors.
You grabbed the box the bird had brought. It was hard with a purple bow wrapped around it.
You opened it to find a long, draped, dark magenta dress. The material was plush velour, just like you wrote to him.
The dress had a deep V neckline with black lacy accents. You gazed at the wrist of the dress, and there were stitch letters combining your two initials.
The tag on the inside of the dress had an embroidery that said, ‘property of ‘[y/n] Addams.'
Your last name was altered.
That implied he wanted you to take his last name.
And you had decided, so you shall.
The day had come: move in. Your mother had decided not to go with you. Ophelia had to move in two weeks ago, so Mother decided to stay with her for an entire month.
You got ready in the purple dress Choso has bought for
Out of nowhere, a tall man almost resembling Frankenstein began to tread toward you. He came face-to-face and just deeply muttered, 'Come.'
You were definitely wary of the strange man, but you followed him.
5 minutes later, you two stopped at an estranged manor a little farther off campus.
He opened the door for you, yet you warily stepped in.
The manor inside was covered with dark wood. It was extremely ornate. A gothic chandelier stood on the ceiling.
It was beautiful, just a little dusty, like it needed some delicate cleaning.
Your attention was averted by an opening door from the left when Choso had darted out the door on the left.
The two of you gazed at each for a few seconds. His active body slowly fell before he ran to you.
The kiss was passionate and romantic. Like he hadn’t seen you in years. His hand trailed over your back, gripping tighter with every move of his lips.
I mean, I could continue it, but I just don't know what to do after the college part, yk. Idk if it fits the story, yk.
I'll have the real pt 2 probably out in a week since I'm so busy.
Join Me In Death, Gomez! Choso x Mortica! Reader pt.1
credits 4 banners; droideplane & c0rpse-bl00m
Includes: Reader and Choso meeting as children and falling in love! Includes mass posioning.................... no deaths though. Theyre quiet a chaotic pair. A lot of yearning and fluff :)
Balthazar's Funeral - Age 13
The sun was gone, and the clouds covered the sky. You’d come to this funeral for a family friend with your mother.
Thick drops of water poured from the dark, gray sky, one after another, dampening the dry ground to make a moist mulch.
It rained enough to make the worms rise from the flowerbed to peek out onto the ground for a shower.
A man named Balthazar had died.
You’d always felt different about death from your counterparts.
When they’d weep, you’d smile. And if you did cry, it was out of joy.
Death felt like what you imagined love felt like. Love isn’t an easy emotion to be enraptured with, but death was.
Sure, you had a capacity for love, but just in a different way than others.
Death was most romantic to you. The most beautiful thing you could imagine was a flower withering in its final moments of limited preservation.
You wondered at a young age if any man would be able to satisfy your desire for eternal rest.
Waiting for death was your favorite activity. As a rebellious child, you’ve run into it many times.
Sometimes you even sought death itself.
During the body viewing, you couldn’t help but caress the man's face and admire his beauty while the soul departed from his body.
A genuine smile on your face was rare, but this might be the biggest gleam you’ve ever shown in public.
His face was so cold and pale. It felt like an invitation, almost.
But the time was coming, the time for the pallbearers to lower his rotting, icy body into the cold, lonely ground.
Nature would embrace him.
A group of 6 men, family members perhaps, picked up the closed casket and began to walk outside to the family's cemetery.
Everyone followed suit outside, the sounds of sniffing and opening umbrellas filled the air.
You grabbed your dark, draped umbrella and held it open over your head before stepping into the cold air.
You’d made sure to open it inside for bad luck.
You walked to the front to get a direct view of the body descending. The process was slow and agonizing.
You felt like you were being watched. Like a mouse being haunted by a fox. Like the fox wanted to rip the mouse to bloody shreds.
You look up to see a boy with dark hair in pigtails staring at you. You knew him as one of the pallbearers.
He was clad in a dark silk suit of the highest quality.
His hair was dark, pitch black. It touched just the faintest bit of his broad shoulders. It was slightly damp and swung in the frigid winds.
His face was pale as a piece of paper, a black strip running across his pinkened nose. His intense purple eyes focus on you, and only you.
He was enamored by the way the cold ashened your skin. There was your black dress, submerged in the wet ground, that snatched you perfectly due to the constricting corset. The way your hair complements you perfectly. The manner in which you stood. The way your fingers gripped the thin, lacy umbrella was with a demand for purpose. The way sharp, pitch-black nails looked perfect for scratching with the intent to draw supple drops of blood. The way your dark, colorless makeup made your features prominent, he imagined what natural beauty hid under the layers of powder and eyeliner. Your lips, plump with a red darker than blood itself. The way you looked like death wanted to become you. It created an insatiable hunger for you.
His dark eyes bore into your soul. You reciprocated a mere look for a second before turning your attention back down to the casket.
No time for distractions while watching the process. Still, you could’ve sworn he was kin to the man since he was a pallbearer. Why was his attention so fixated on you?
As the man hit the bottom of the grave, shovels found their way into the family's hands. They began to add dirt atop the coffin.
Everyone began to find their way inside for the repass, but he just stood there. Tall in might in all his glory, with his eyes riveted on you.
You began to find your way into the Adams manor as well, but his body just turned, still in the same spot, yet following your every move.
Hours into the repass, you sat on a cushioned chair with a dark rose cocktail in your hand. The drink was the perfect shade of toxic sludge.
You had to be sure not to let your mother catch you drinking, especially at your young age.
You watched as the dark-haired boy made his way around the crowded ballroom. He exuded boldness yet had a trace of a shy streak. But, for most of it, the boy was confident.
You averted your attention to the dancing of ‘it’ across the floor, the strange moves were captivating.
Before you could turn your head back to the other side, you felt the boy's presence dawning upon you.
He rested his hand on the top of the chair.
“Horrible night, isn’t it? Querida”
You turned your head to the man, your face still as stoic as always. “Terrible, even.”
You dropped your arm on the armrest of the chair, then rested your face on your palm. You looked up to him, eyes almost rolling in their sockets.
“I’m Choso Adams. Pleased to meet you, Miss…?” He held his hand out, flat, to you, in an inviting manner.
You embraced your sharp fingers in his hands delicately. Make sure to mind your manners. “I’m [y/n], pleased to be of your acquaintance… Choso.”
He pulled your hand to his lips to place a chaste kiss on your hand. “Has anyone told you that your beauty is absolutely mortifying?”
“No, but I have been called a sphere of nightmares…” He laughed lightly. “A similar compliment, no?”
You squinted your eyes at him in “I suppose."
The two of you sat and talked about family, best torture method, etc…
The two of you heard the trombone from the music ramp up along with the other instruments.
Choso reached his hand out toward you with the intention of inviting you to dance.
You loved to dance, especially on your own in the pale moonlight, specifically in graveyards. You felt like you strengthened your connection with the dead.
You laid your hand in his while he pulled you up. He put one arm behind your back and walked you to the middle of the dance floor.
He immediately pulled you closer; your body lay upon his closely. His arm snaked all the way around your waist, and he rested his hand near your ribs. Your other hand enveloped our two hands in the air.
The tension between you two was palpable.
The instruments ramped up, and he spun you around in a 360. Neither of you was leading, you were simply following each other's movements.
Your eyes were closely fixated on each other. His foot filled in the movement of yours.
Everyone else in the crowd began to disperse while you two took the spotlight of the dance floor.
Silent murmurs just filled the air.
Your body swayed side to side carefully in perfect unison.
Choso moved his hand further down to grip your hips. Though quite mature dancers for your ages, you two danced better together than any other experienced couple here.
The old wood floors under you two creaked furiously on beat with your movements.
Choso held you tightly before spinning you through the air. You looked like an elegant tornado of darkness.
He grinned every moment you spun, his eyes focused on every single detail of your movement.
He caught up to you quickly and helped your body, opening your arms into the air so you were in a T shape.
He moved down to the end of your left arm to place a kiss on your hand.
He then proceeded to place kisses on every inch of your arm, from your hand to your shoulder.
He processed with quickness to the next arm, moving from shoulder to hand.
All of a sudden, you felt another hand pulling you off the dance floor.
Your mother dragged your body all the way to the door. “You know better than to dance so intimately with a boy at your age!”
You frowned, trying to protest her pulling. “But, Mother!" But all you could hear was your mother's bickering and your sister ‘Ophelia’ laughing profusely.
You turned your body to spare another glance at Choso on the dance floor. He held his hand out to you, as if he were waiting for you to come back any moment you had.
The grin on his face was one of attraction. He pressed a kiss on his hand before sending it out to you through the air.
All you could do was smile dimly while he disappeared from your view.
Camp Sunshine - Age 15
You were walking in the middle of the woods down a dark wooded trail.
The sunshine peeked through the long branches, and the heat hitting your skin was absolutely disgusting.
You’d wish it would thunder violently soon, maybe a few purple lightning bolts. You could probably find a machine to start—
Your mother had shipped you off to a place called "Camp Sunshine." The name was very much truthful, and you hated every second of it.
You’d just escaped a disgusting lecture on the importance of happiness and freedom in life.
It was your 2nd day here, and nothing yet piqued your interest. The activity options were friendship bracelet weaving, icebreakers, glitter arts and crafts, and swimming.
Swimming seemed fun, but hunting endangered herbs for potions sounded like a better use of your time to you. Hopefully, you could put these ‘herbs’ to use.
You quickly spotted some nightshade and squatted on the ground. You didn’t want to risk getting your dress dirty.
You picked up the nightshade and shoved it in your pocket. Your first victim would be the counselor. She threatened to call your mom because you released a harmless snake in your cabin. If you're nice to a venomous snake, it shouldn't bite!
You tried your best to make your disappearance from camp sleek, but you heard a branch snap behind you.
“Who’s there?" You said it with your back remaining facing forward.
You felt their body heat come closer and closer but remained forward. “I thought you’d remember my presence.
The body behind you picked up one of your hands, placing a delicate yet familiar kiss on it.
You hadn’t ever turned around so quickly. “Choso…”
The boy grabbed you and dipped you romantically to the floor, his hand lay flat on your back. “Mon Cher.”
“How are you here…?” He pulled you into a tender embrace.
“I’ve been tracking your every move. I am utterly enamored with you. I find myself not able to be away from you for long. I listened in on my mother's phone calls with your mother. I pleaded to come be with you. I’d threatened to bury her alive if she didn’t."
He slid down to your feet in a yearning kneel.
“I cannot sleep without you, I cannot breathe without you, I cannot even go on living without you. I need to be close enough to fuse bodies with you, or I will most certainly die. I’ve watched you outside your house. I've stalked you to my absolute wits' end. For I fear I am in love with you."
You looked away, slightly flustered by his confession. You’d met him once. You simply danced with him, but he's become obsessed.
“Oh… how romantic, it’s sickening.” You looked away dramatically, placing your hand atop your head, like you might faint any second now.
“I’d do anything to see you again, mon cher.” His tone was one of pure desperation. The man was fed just by breathing the same air as you.
“Would you kill me for Choso?”
He took your hand to place a gentle kiss. “The most innocent would meet their demise for you."
“Would you die for me, Choso?” You said to increase the bass of passion in your voice.
“I’d slit my own throat if you ask me, my love.” He kissed your knee, innocently and softly as always.
The boy showed pure, unadulterated passion, but it was a sort of deadly kind. Your fate would lie within his hands. You, too, found yourself utterly enamored and in love with him. “Oh Choso…”
He shot up, moving faster than light as he dipped you to the ground to give you an ardor kiss.
He pulled apart with a mischievous grin on his face. He looked slightly behind you at the dirt on the floor.
“You were collecting nightshades, my love…” A smile grew on your face…he noticed.
“Yes, of course.”
You pulled the bunch from your pocket, showing him the assortment. “Are you trying to start chaos with these?”
You nod boldly as a grin grows on your lips.
“Well, may I join you?”
You and Choso had been able to sneak into the kitchen after hours. The chef typically made food for the morning in advance.
You used a pestle and mortar to grind some of the nightshade into a thick paste. You and Choso pretty much mixed it into everything.
The biscuit dough, eggs, marinated meats—you even made nightshade lemonade! The two of you enjoyed it, but not everyone had a tolerance for poisons as you guys did.
Nightshade was deadly, so you made sure to put just enough paste to cause everyone's mild stomach irritation.
The plan was simple: skip breakfast, sleep in, wait another hour, then wait for the chaos to begin.
You two shared a romantic kiss under the moonlight before running back to your cabins for slumber. Tomorrow should be interesting.
You woke up with a smile on your face. Your arms stretched in the air as you enjoyed the peaceful sounds of screaming, crying & chaos.
You reckon you've slept overtime.
The cabin was empty at the time, so you could finally get ready in peace.
You put on some black shorts with a matching long-sleeve shirt & shoes.
You walked outside and looked to your right to see Choso standing near the doorway, presumably to wait for you.
He picked up your hand to guide you for a morning walk on the grassy courtyard.
The two of you walked in tandem as you soaked up the sounds of chaos. You soon heard the blare of sirens as the paramedics pulled onto the property.
You hoped you didn’t mess up the dosage.
Choso led you to a nearby bench so you two could get a calmer view of people running without being trampled by sweaty bodies that stunk of excrement.
“Look at our beautiful creation, mon cher.” You lay your head upon his shoulder with a satisfied smile growing on your lips.
“We cause beautiful disorder, Choso.”
He made an 'mmm' sound while moving to place a light kiss on your forehead.
And that was the commencement of a deadly love tale.
Okay, this is just part 1, but I think for part 2, I'm thinking just skip to when they get married
