[satorussolace]

⠀ now playing ── interstate love song by stp .ᐟ

⠀/ᐠ > . < ̥マ ݂۫ 𓏼 ₊ ͜ ◞ ྀིྀ

𓏵 ྀིྀ　˖ .　lay ﾉ　satoru's wife　︵︵ ྀི

── ꩜ jjk writer with possible hints of resident evil .ᐟ

⠀ ⠀⁀➷ ⠀ ⠀ golden brown ⠀⠀ྀིྀ

©satorussolace all rights reserved ── do not copy, plagiarise, translate, or modify my works

[revolvingsaturn]

𝜗𝜚 Gojo and your daddy issues

cw: daddy kink (but NOT in an ageplay way!) , reader’s dad is an asshole

more like this

You sort of hate your dad.

Gojo definitely hates your dad.

You’d mentioned the hate offhandedly once, early into your relationship. half-asleep and sitting at the kitchen counter in one of Gojo’s oversized shirts as your feet dangle in the air. Gojo had handed you a glass full of iced coffee, but you didn’t grab it tightly enough and it shattered across the tiles, coffee and ice cubes spilling across the floor. “I’m sorry-“ you panicked immediately, searching for a cloth to mop up the mess, “I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-“

“Hey, hey,” he’d frowned, “what’s wrong? It’s just a glass. I’ll buy, like, twelve more anyway.”

“Oh.” You’d flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry. It’s just a response, I guess. My, uh, my dad used to get really mad and yell if I spilt or broke anything. I kind of… don’t like him that much. Sorry if that’s kinda weird, I know I’m probably supposed to like my own dad.”

Gojo blinked slowly, blue eyes narrowed. "There's nothing wrong with you," he said reassuringly, drawing slow circles over your lower back. He looked down at you, still nervously staring at the coffee on the floor like you were ready to cry over it and prepare yourself to be yelled at- and he decided from that day onward that he really, really hates your dad too.

He does it subtly, though. Like the first time he met your dad over dinner at your shared apartment, Gojo’s plate piled high with the myriad of homecooked dishes you’d spent the full day making, including dessert. “This is amazing,” he smiled at you, before turning to your dad. “Don’t you think?”

Your dad nods. “It’s… good. Pass me the salt, please, sweetheart?” You snap up, reaching across to the other side of the table, and your arm crosses atop your dad’s plate in the process. “Don’t be rude,” he snaps lowly, “you know you don’t reach over people’s food. Didn’t I teach you better?”

You smile, tight-lipped and agitated. “Sorry, dad.”

Gojo prods at his salad extra harshly, dressing splashing onto the tomatoes, then casually manages to mention the price of everything in the apartment within the next five minutes as your dad shrinks back while his masculinity is damaged more and more. Gojo waves him off cheerily after an awkward dessert, then sticks his tongue out at the door after it swings shut. You snort, stacking plates next to the soapy sink. “Don’t be immature, Satoru.”

“He’s the immature one.” He rolls his eyes, helping you wash up. “Acting so self righteous,” he hums, kissing your forehead. “I’m glad you didn’t turn out like him, what can I say?”

Gojo treats you so gently it’s embarrassing sometimes, him cooing into your ear about how perfect you are and how you’re easily his favourite thing. Him brushing your hair softly into braids when you’re too tired to do it yourself, him ensuring you feel calm enough around him to shatter a plate onto the tiles and not immediately apologise.

He calms you down when you cry, wrapping you in his strong arms and rocking you back and forth as he lets you know there’s nothing wrong with you. He hates the fact somebody ever made you feel like that in the first place, that there’s something not quite right about you that needs to be fixed. Gojo takes you everywhere, to all the museums your dad wouldn’t and buys you the little trinkets your dad called a stupid waste of space.

Gojo adores watching you get excited around him, too.

“Oh my god, Toru,” you squeal excitedly, “look, look, it’s the exact one I wanted-“ you beam, proudly showing him the little animal keychain you just opened from a blind box. “Oh my gosh, she’s so cute,” you gush, pressing him to look at the little bunny’s fuzzy ears and her tiny dress. “I love her-“

“Yeah?” He smiles, taking your hand in his much larger one. “Tell me more, sweetheart.”

He revels secretly in knowing he makes you feel so safe you can be like this, that it isn’t embarrassing and your emotions won’t be ignored or dismissed with passive-aggressive eye rolls. “Well,” you grin, clipping the bunny onto your house keys where she rests alongside a plethora of other trinkets. “She’s sort of rare. Although, not the rarest, because there’s a secret option you could get too but that one is a bear, and honestly I think it’s not as cute as the bunny so-“

You go on like this for ages, babbling on and practically talking your boyfriend’s ear off as you walk around the local park with his hand in your left and a cute drink he paid for in your right. “Anyway,” you shrug, sipping your drink, “I think the cat is overrated. She’s cute, but why put her in dungarees? She’d look cuter with a parasol, I think. Oh,” you say suddenly, a little embarrassed, “I’m not- I'm not boring you, right?”

Gojo grins brightly and squeezes your hand tighter. “You could never bore me, pretty. Keep going.”

Gojo could sit there for days and listen to you talk about nothing and everything, feet up on his lap as you complain about the latest subplot in your new show. He genuinely listens, asks follow up questions, never once makes you feel awkward or embarrassed for caring about something so trivial.

You’re sat at the counter again over a year after the coffee incident, your shoulder slipping out of the worn neck of Gojo’s old Digimon shirt while your finger draws shapes on the smooth marble beside the fruitbowl.

“Toru, I was thinking, that new bakery opened up down the street yesterday and I know you love sweets-“

Gojo whirls around from the fridge, gasps loudly, and stares at you like you just personally offended his whole lineage. “Toru?”

You frown, confused. “Uh, yes? Isn’t that your name-“

“Nooo,” he grins, walking over to you, “use my other nickname.”

“Baby?” You say nervously. Is there an inside joke you’re forgetting?

“Nope.” He grins evilly, lips brushing your ear. “I liked the one you came up with last night, angel.”

You blush, scandalised, and shove futilely at his chest. Truly, it was an accident, just a little slip of the tongue in a moment of extreme horniness you wish you could snap right back up from his memory.

Your bare tits had been firmly pressed into the dishevelled sheets, marks covering the sensitive skin; Gojo was behind you, big hands carefully holding onto your hips and sliding up to squeeze your waist briefly as your back arched further.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He murmurs, hips delving deeply into your dipping cunt. “Come on, let me hear those cute little sounds I love.” He coos next to your ear.

Your answering response is a garbled moan, a squeaky whimper that draws itself embarrassingly from your lips even despite the pillow shoved into your face. “Yeah,” he whispers, “let me make you feel good, baby. You deserve it all, yeah? Just lie there and take it like the good girl you are, okay?”

Gojo’s voice is as sweet as sugar, coos dripping down into your ears and intoxicating your body so much you truly can’t think of anything else other than the way he’s fucking into you, sliding so deeply and so fully it makes your eyes roll back and your fingers weakly grip the sheets.

“Daddy-“ you choke.

You freeze, hot embarrassment flushing your face as you bury it into the pillows in an attempt to pretend that did not just happen and you did not just call your boyfriend ‘daddy’ like a degenerate pervert freak.

Gojo freezes too, thick cock halfway into your pulsing heat, hands paused on your hips. And then, the biggest grin he’s ever produced cracks glowingly across his face. “What was that, pretty?”

“Nothing.” You say into the pillow, voice muffled. “I didn’t s-say anything.”

“Oh noooo, I think you did, actually.” Your boyfriend gloats happily, his voice singsong, “say it again, or I’m not moving.”

“No!” You cry frustratedly as he starts to slowly slip his dick back out, “okay, fuck, fine.”

Your face burns as your lips open again, voice quiet. “...Daddy.”

“Daddy what?” You’re glad you can’t see his face, but you know exactly what sort of shit-eating grin is plastered along his beautiful face. “Satoru-“

“No, gorgeous, I want you to say it. Say you want me to fuck you.”

You’re almost sick with humiliation, but it stirs something else along with the embarrassment coiling in your tummy. “Please fuck me, daddy.” You say quietly, eyes screwed up like you can pretend you aren’t getting off on the words slipping from your mouth.

Gojo starts moving again, and you squeal as he magically manages to ram every one of your sweet spots in one stroke. “Fuck, baby,” he pants, “I didn’t know you were into that.”

Your moan cracks on a sob. “I didn’t know y-you were into that!”

“Oh, my shy girl,” Gojo croons, kissing your back. “I love anything that comes out of your mouth, you sound so hot saying that, so filthy and worked up for me.” He laughs breathlessly as you shudder and clench around him. “Aww, baby, are you gonna cum for daddy now?”

“Stop-“ you choke, “don’t say it like th-that-“

It’s no use, Gojo just keeps taunting you with it.

“Is daddy going hard enough for you, pretty?”

“So cute stretched out for daddy.”

“Are you gonna cum on daddy’s cock?”

That last one sends you over the edge, the taboo of it all making your head spin and your legs tremble as Gojo collapses right after you, spilling so much cum it manages to overflow right onto the sheets and into his mouth as he drops to his knees to worship you.

Your face burns as you sit at the counter, the memory harsh in your head. “Stop,” you whine, “I didn’t mean to say it, stop.”

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.” Gojo chortles, kissing your temple. “Do it again later?”

You groan and drop your forehead onto the counter.

He’ll bring it up at the most inappropriate times, too, like when you’re on a date and he’ll casually whisper it into your ear until you’re flushing. “Toru, stop with that, we’re in an aquarium.” You protest, walking towards the rockpool exhibit. “I’m not calling you that here.”

The worst time he’s ever done it was when you were storming back to your car after an awkward dinner with your dad where he managed to passive aggressively comment on your outfit, tone of voice, and facial expression in the space of an hour. “I hate him.” You say angrily as Gojo puts his hands onto the steering wheel to drive off. “He’s such an egotistical, self-centred, immature, dickheaded, insensitive-“

“He is.” Gojo soothes, flicking the playlist in the car to one of your favourite songs and the ac up to cool you down as you continue to mindlessly rage about your dad as the city lights flash by the windows of the car.

“But it’s a good job you’ve got a better daddy here, righhhhhtttt?” He grins, patting your thigh. You gasp, scandalised, and swat at his toned arm. “Oh my god, please tell me you didn’t just say that-“

He grins again. “You just have issues that manifest themselves psychosexually, don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” You glare at him. “Oh, so now I have issues just because I like to call you daddy sometimes? Don’t act like you weren’t into me slapping you last week, why don’t we talk about your psychosexual issues, Satoru-“

Gojo laughs, hands in his expensive pockets, as you scold him the whole way to your living room. You’re still muttering silent curses when he tugs you into his arms and kisses your scalp. “I was joking about the issues,” he says, “I know you were pissed. And you should be, you have a right to be. I hate your dad too.”

You sigh and bury your face into his bicep. “I know you do.”

masterlist

a/n: okay mini hiatus for my holiday over! Have a lovely week <3

tags (join in pinned) 1: @yvannaille @f33bs @loverofladybugs @p3stop3sta @arabellasolstice @dreamcastgirl99 @what-the-jams @likstars @elenathriel @gyusheadphones @savagecatsuga @wqsrs @kakuthefish @megssleepygirl @olegirldowntheblock @sugerfilled @mershyjershy @1cckedheart @mimicosmos8 @destenyyyyy @icebearcucumber @satoru2716 @mebodys @megumisrighttoe @toesy3 @ivankinnieclatter @v4mp1r3b4tzz @a-court-of-smut-and-sluts @stqrgumi @skylaryippee @iridescentshine @hanges-wife @rengoatku @lilyalone @cherryfawnie @toro-inouelover @bowiesprettieststar2 @mischivana @themoonknowsyourname @lovingplum @tellria @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred @itimisu @sailormarsinanotherlife @immortalkyodii @introvertedfreakk @cat-boydestroyer @milqyravena @megumiswifeyily @bl1ndv3lvet

[lemonswirlss]

༄.° Swindled Pearls ⚓︎

synopsis ⚓︎ is it possible for sirens to be good? you never thought so before meeting suguru. a kind man does fishy deeds for the girl he is fascinated in.

warnings ⚓︎ general dark content warning, suggestive topics, illness, death, angst/no comfort, vague satosugu mention - 9k words

this is for Memoirs Beyond the Reef !!! please go check out the other prompts posted there, she has amazing ones! art creds to @/ectology on x!!

“what kind of man are you into?”

now, naturally that ought to be an odd question you ask someone you hardly know. but the old woman managing the local merchant stand has never had a clear visual of what boundaries mean. she asks questions and expects an answer. it’s a sense of entitlement her generation is known for.

for convenience purposes, giving her what she wants is always the safe route. even when it’s amusing the highly invasive questions she spits at you, that you’re certain she’ll forget the moment they file through her eardrums and out into the air again.

“well, i suppose i like a man with a soothing voice.” you reply, watching her eye the haughty net of fish you forced onto her for even a single spare coin. she seems to be counting the fish like sheep rather than hearing a word of your reply. at least it appears that way.

“a soothing voice? you mean a man that can sing?” she questions, and to your surprise, her usual scowl is less of a burden on her face. you recognize this as approval.

you nod once. “well, i was speaking generally..” the thought rolls back and forth in your brain. “but i do like a man that can sing. i find that quite charming.”

the woman smiles, the arch shaped wrinkles straining the ends of her lips could fool anyone into believing her expression is forced. you know better, and smile back. knowing how to navigate this woman is practically a survival skill.

“my husband,” she began, witching you into believing something pleasant would come out of her mouth. “well, my DEAD husband. he could sing beautifully, it was all he was good for. what a sack of fish shit!”

you look around for the cameras, honestly believing this was some chaotic episode of your life that only you can’t see. an awkward smile graces your lips, barely passing as anything at all. “that’s..that’s nice!” you chirp, “i guess i’ll just have to wait for the perfect man then.”

“i respect that, young lady.” she gestures for you to hold out your palm, and places a small herd of coins right into it. unfamiliarly, she closes your fingers around them like a clam does a pearl. “you have yourself a nice night. go buy your old man some bone broth, who know what this illness will do to his poor, old bones!”

ah, right. your father.

as of lately, he’s come down with—well—you don’t exactly know what. you’re no doctor to say the very least, only they’re just as lost as everyone else. it’s a terrible fate for healers to be clueless about their very job. all you know is that your father can’t fish with you, and he can’t handle all the business you hate handling. it’s become quite the hassle for your daily routine, and you find that you took a lot of what he did for granted. especially handling that old woman!

you remind yourself not to dwell on it too much, he’ll recover! until then, you’re in charge.

as told, you make your way to another market in search for something—anything that might assist your father. though on your way there, you feel eyes on you that you cannot spot. you feel as though you’re a fish with a hook right above its head.

has all this stress deluded you? you live in a small, friendly town. the only eyes on you are curious ones. it’s odd seeing you without your father. the culture in the town isn’t exactly strict, but families living together forever is a social norm. even though you’re grown, you have no intention on leaving your father.

not now, there’s no chance of such a thing anyway. not when he needs you just to have a shot at surviving.

unsurprisingly, you didn’t have enough money to comfortably buy medicine and proper food. just your luck.

you are almost certain the taste of grilled fish has permanently settled on your tastebuds. so much so, the flavor fatigue has started to feel like real fatigue. the tired muscles in your jaw are boardering stationary whenever you try to chew.

after a full day of work and almost no reward, your body feels the weight of every fish you caught. wake up, fish, sell, repeat. such a repetitive lifestyle felt so comfortable when it was you and your father. but when you’re alone, you start to think too much. you start to wonder what will happen if you get sick too? who will you rely on?

everything aches, both mentally and physically. you’ve never been in such a sorrowful state in your life, and you happen to think it can’t possibly get worse.

though, your predicament is nowhere near the state your father is in.

“thank you for dinner.” he says, and you know fully he’s too tired to appear grateful. of course he appreciate your efforts, but it’s hard to seem that way when every cell in your body hates you. when the person you’re supposed to take care of has to take care of you instead. it’s shameful to him, utterly shameful.

you smile at your father, and find that it’s considerably easy to tear up upon seeing him like this. you’d trade most anything for him to be healthy again. you can’t even begin to comprehend how much you’d give. would you give yourself?

you’re stumped.

“i’m going to go out earlier tomorrow.” you inform him, setting down the grilled fish you’ve only managed to take minuscule bites out of. “the fish will be hungry then. today was almost no luck.”

your father’s shoulders slouch, as if every syllable is an extra pound he has to carry. “sounds good.” he replies, then takes another bite. this is how dinner has been as of recently, and it’s days like these where you wonder if things will ever get better.

once you finish eating and tidying up the kitchen, your bed seems to be calling you to its comfort like a siren calls a man to sea. your thoughts buzz in your brain every time you even think of getting some rest. you can practically hear them.

though, the sound of something else catches your attention. intertwined with the loud, hissing wind berating the walls of the house, a man’s voice can be heard between each aggressive gust.

you sit up, since having one ear covered by your pillow does no good. almost instantly you recognize that the sound is coming from the direction of the ocean. could the man of your dreams really have spawned out of thin air? did that old woman manifest him straight to you? is she actually a witch?

there are too many questions, but no answers. the only way to truly find out is to go see for yourself. you throw the blankets off your legs, and practically skate into your slippers. first you peek out the window—nothing. the empty, dark living room houses a few more windows, but what a waste of time this all is.

you feel a current pushing you towards the front door—towards the direction of the ocean.

you make a b-line for the door, the wind blowing it further. something tells you it’s not just wind, something else is there—there’s no doubt.

your legs are tired and sore from nonstop labor, and your eyes have so many bags that one more would surely weigh your whole face down. yet you run anyway, straight onto the beach, straight towards the giant rock guarding your house from rebellious waves. the second your foot passes another square inch, it’s as if you cross a threshold. the singing comes to an abrupt halt, which makes the ocean much scarier than it was before.

you run to peek around the rock, hair blowing wildly and unrestrained. perched atop the rock, you see..a man. the best thing you can make out is black hair and broad shoulders. he doesn’t even turn his head, but you have a feeling he knows you’re there anyway.

the wind blows sand wildly around you, and you squint to avoid any complications. by the time you open your eyes again, he’s gone.

what a beautiful thing you’re sure he is, and what a shame you couldn’t talk to him. you wonder how and why this man has been manifested so close to you. better yet, how the hell did he disappear so fast? all you know is that you want to know more, you want to see that man again.

but..who is he? how peculiar.

the next day, you’re back at work—like routine! your head is swimming with thoughts about your father, since he hadn’t awoken by the time you left. it’s so unlike him to stay slumped like a bear through all the clattering and ruckus you cause in the mornings.

though, you quickly remember that sickness takes things and changes them without even asking. and you also remember that none of that is in your control. you can get all the money needed, you can get all the medicine and herbs on the planet to heal them. but it’s not guaranteed to work, it’s not guaranteed to get better.

that’s the scary part about life. and you wish so badly someone told you before the hook was lodged in your back.

the mindset that nothing will help certainly won’t cure your father, the only way is to keep going. so you go back to the rickety boat, and get back to work. the breeze over the water is a pleasant temperature, and the waves are soft enough to prevent any real sea sickness.

your fishing rod is damn near retired, another thing you add to your mental list of necessities. as you’re sorting through said list, you feel a tug on your pole. the initial pull is one you’d expect from a fish, but the second has you jolting in your seat.

the third sends the nose of your little boat forward—was a damn shark snagging your line?! you desperately use all your body weight to yank the rod back, fighting against something you can’t even see. your feet slide against the splintering wood, your heart is pumping so hard inside your chest it forces a scream out.

and then, it stops.

you fly forward from the loss of friction, but something else catches your attention. there’s a head poking out of the water, facing the exact opposite direction. was this a body?!

“h-holy shit!” you sputter, breathing so hard you were almost certain each breath could create a wave of its own. “are you alive? are you drowning? say something, you!”

the head slowly turns your direction, and raises up a bit at the same time. you immediately recognize the hair, even from the small glimpse you got the night before, you know it’s him.

it’s the man that came to your house.

he’s nothing short of a beautiful creature. hes got jet black hair that pours over his shoulders like ink, nowhere near disheveled from the salty ocean water. his shoulders are broad and bulky, and you can tell just by the view of his collarbones and the top of his arms that he’s got some muscle to him.

his features are sharp and incredibly handsome. where his hair is slightly tucked, you can see thick, black gauges sitting like pearls in his ear lobes. he’s absolutely gorgeous. you have never seen such a lovely looking man in all your years of life.

your eyes must’ve noticed the beauty before the ugly—since his mouth was occupied by the very fish you were trying to catch. he looks up from his half eaten fish and smiles.

“trying to steal my breakfast? what a thief.” he says, and his savoring bites tell you he’s wanting you to observe him longer.

you’re jaw is practically below sea level—was this just a random guy swimming? surely not, that was a stupid thought. “well, i need that to buy my own breakfast. you owe me a fish.”

“do i? you’re in my home, you know.” the flesh of the fish is gone at this point, he throws the thin, remaining bones right into your boat. “there’s your fish.”

you don’t even bother looking at what’s left, and instead you’re overcome by curiosity. “your home? you mean…you live here? you’re full of shit.”

the man smiles again, which resembles two, shiny strings of pearls. he starts to lean back against the soft waves, enough to where you see a fin poking out of the water. your confusion vanishes once you realized the tail is attached to his body.

your jaw drops once more, like an anchor has weighed it down, and you think for a good minute that you’re dreaming. you blink so hard it sends an ache through your skull.

“w-what the hell a—“

“i’m not a mermaid, before you ask.” he tells you, and the fact he’s so utterly beautiful makes what he says unbelievable. “you’ve really never seen someone like me? i’m sure your father has.”

you almost can’t believe it, but somehow you do. you’ve seen lots of crazy things in your life, but nothing even close to this. “i think it’s quite obvious i haven’t seen one. and how do you know about my father—“

“i have a keen eye.” god, what was with this guy and interrupting?! “i’ve seen you out lots of times. i have to assume he’s fallen ill?”

your silence confirms it.

“i can help you get money.” the sudden offer is one you struggle to process. “all i ask for is your time and company. you can’t imagine how long i’ve waited to talk to you.”

something about this unsettles you, but the kind smile on his face eases the feeling. “what’s the catch? you can’t seriously be offering to help me for free.”

“it’s not for free. i told you the fee is your time. surely you wouldn’t turn such an offer down.” he reaches his hand up out of the water, the webs between his fingers should freak you out, but you’re only fascinated.

“..i wouldn’t.” you mumble, and all you can think about is your father. this was a way to help him. he’d heal much faster if he wasn’t so stressed about the lack of money you’ve been bringing home. so, you reach your hand down to his level, just until your palms touch, snd your fingers wrap around his webbed ones. “deal.”

the man looks pleased, and doesn’t let go of your hand. he looks fascinated with you. “pleasure is mine. my name is suguru, by the way.”

you smile and nod, pulling your hand free. “that’s a suiting name. my name is—“

“—no need, i know your name.” he interrupts.

“okay, this interrupting thing is getting out of hand! if you want me to spend time with you, you’ll let me finish my sentences.” it comes out like a threat! you feel that you have the power here. he’s the one that’s desperate for your company for some unknown reason, so surely you can push things.

he bows his head once, and you wonder how he’s got such identical mannerisms to that of a human. right, he’s an observer.

“apologies. i suppose that means you’ll just have to teach me.” he winks, his tail swishing underwater to propel him away from your rickety boat. “i’ll get a head start on that fish for you.”

what a kind thing.

tonight night you bring to the seller an abundant amount of fish, as well as a few pearls and shells suguru said would be worth some money. he was absolutely right! you’re so thankful for his help, and the feeling only grows after you successfully purchase medicine and a decent meal for your father.

naturally, your father is suspicious when he sees he doesn’t have only scraps to eat. “where’d you get all this money from?” he asks, eating the soup anyway. you can visually see the relief on his face once he tastes his dinner. the soup has more in it than one kind of vegetable and a sea of salty fish.

“i had help today.” you tell him, looking completely pleased with yourself. “and he didn’t even ask for money!”

your father stops eating after hearing that. “didn’t ask for money? you mean he just helped you for fun or something?” he shook his head. “honey, i wouldn’t just accept big favors like that. nothing in this world comes for free. thank him and tell him you’ve got it from here.”

a frown forms on your face. “what are you talking about? i’ve got this handled, father. please just worry about yourself..i’m gonna make things better.”

“the ones who ask for nothing in return want the most. please just do as i say, it’s all i ask.” you wonder why he sounds so desperate, and it makes you sad. but you also know what you’re doing is for him! you can deal with whatever consequences may come.

“just finish eating, father. i’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

your idea of “dealing with it” isn’t much of anything. in fact, when you go out on the boat again, you find that your eyes are desperately searching for the man in the water.

like the day before, you find him once again while you’re knuckle deep in the water, setting up your net. his head pokes up about a foot from your hands, “came to see me again?”

you jump, dropping the net completely in the water and fumbling to get it back. you forget that somebody is already in the water. “a warning would be nice!”

he hands you the net anyway, with a prideful smirk on his face. “forgive me. i was just too eager to see you i guess.”

“are you really? or just being sarcastic..”

“what about me is sarcastic?”

you’re appalled that he could even ask such a question. you shake the thought away, and upon seeing his gorgeous face again, you’re reminded of the words your father said the night before. “hey, suguru? are you sure you’re not asking more of me?”

suguru’s expression changes, though you can’t exactly find the right way to explain it, nor analyze it. “i know that you humans have a hard time with deception. but i can assure you, a creature such as myself holds no hospitality.”

he sounds so sincere that to question him otherwise seems absurd. “i don’t understand why you’d simply want my company. i mean, we only just chatted yesterday.”

the smile on his face is even harder to read than his tone, guilt gnaws at you for pressing the question.

suguru speaks before you can apologize and recede your statement. “i think we could learn a lot from each other as two different species. i’m curious about you in particular.”

“have you ever done this for someone else? you know..helped them?” you ask, forgetting you should probably be working. “you seem to know a fair amount about humans.”

suguru doesn’t look pleased at the question, nor does he look angry. it’s a spot of neutrality you still can’t decipher, but you find that the strange feeling is peaceful and hypnotic a way.

“yes, a man.” he leans back in the water, though his sharp eyes are still sapped onto you. “he was a kind man, with the most bizarre white hair i’ve ever seen. i didn’t know such a thing was possible for a human.”

“..was he old?”

“you think so lowly of my intelligence, darling.” he’s practically purring, but it’s clear he’s focused on his story again. “we had a disagreement. he thought i was taking too much from him, and so he fled.”

you frown at the load of information, but you can’t quite understand it. “too much? you’re practically asking for nothing, suguru.”

he nods once, swimming a few inches closer to your boat. you can finally read his expression this time, but only because he wants you to. is stern and serious. “you mustn’t give your time and efforts to people who don’t appreciate it. some people aren’t worth your trust.”

it’s all confusing. the way it’s said makes you picture your father, but you quickly cast the spell out. “thanks, suguru..you’re not the only one giving me advice about trust. i assure you, i’m not naive.”

suguru is smiling again, to which you find you heavily prefer. “i can only protect you so much from in here. all i can do is share my wisdom as a creature who’s seen many things.”

you raise an eyebrow, feeling confused. “you want to protect me?”

his smile stretches into a very kind expression, and his webbed hands are attached to the boat. “i fully intend to.“

you enjoy that answer much more than you should. the fluttering in your stomach can probably be seen through the window of your eyes. “well..if you want to protect me, let’s get to work so i can eat tonight.”

you love him, you’re absolutely certain about that. you’ve never met a man—or a thing—so gentle and kind. he does everything in his power to please you, and yet you still can’t understand why. being spoiled by an oceanic legend was not on your bucket list. but there’s no use in adding something that’s already been crossed off.

whenever he gives you items to keep or to sell, your heart does that dumb flutter that you swear he can see. you’ve only known him for a few days, and yet you’ve never been more sure about anything in your life.

on days like this when fishing comes fairly easy, you’re able to just sit against the edge of your boat, and talk to him for hours.

“no, no! the bubbles are from the carbonation!” you tell him, waving a can of soda in front of his very eyes. his sharp ones, that is.

suguru doesn’t seem too curious by the sight of it. “you know, i see those pesky cans littered all over the sea floor.” he says, a smile stretching across his face. “if i catch you throwing that into the ocean, i might just have to abandon you.”

“now you know better than anyone i wouldn’t do such a thing.” it’s more of a reprimand than anything. you bring the can closer to his face. “want a sip?”

“will this kill me?”

“surely not!”

he takes the can from your hand carefully, it neatly slips against in his webbed fingers. “this looks toxic.” he sighs, squinting inside the can. “where do those bubbles come from again?”

“drink the damn soda!” you demand, because this is a high-stakes, scientific experiment, of course. you watch with focused, unblinking eyes, waiting for his lips to connect to the rim of the can.

when he does, and he tilts his head back, you can tell when it hits his tongue from the way he stiffens. he chokes on his own saliva, tossing the can a meter away like it set him up. “how vile!” he coughs wetly, trying to scrape the carbonation off his tongue. “you humans and your odd concoctions. i forbid you from drinking that.”

you laugh at his misery like some sadistic monster, and you trace the way he throws the can. “now look who’s littering!” you point, practically snorting. “you’re so dramatic! it’s just a beverage!”

“you’ll find me on the shoreline dead by first light.”

“goodness, i didn’t know you were such a baby!”

dear, diary. where do i even begin? the girl i’ve found is so much softer than i could’ve ever imagined, just her voice makes me want to both sleep and hold her close. such foolish thoughts for a human girl, one i’ve known for such a short period of time, nonetheless.

i’ve never in my lifetime been more fascinated in a human, i crave to know more. the shoreline isn’t the boarder she thinks it is, i’ll find a way to worm myself into more of her time. i’ve just never been so curious, she’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid my eyes on.

my only dilemma during our work together is this god forsaken hunger. i ought to take more fish during our work.

signed, suguru.

“do creatures like yourself have sex?”

the question slips out of your mouth before you even realize it’s left your brain. you don’t even realize you’ve said it aloud until you hear a laugh coming from the water.

fuck!

“i-im so sorry, suguru! believe me, i didn’t mean to—“

“we do. don’t feel ashamed for asking a question. we’re supposed to learn things from each other, aren’t we?” he says, his intense stare never once lingering away from your eyes.

“i suppose you’re right..” you say, wondering if this is the right time for you to ask the question you’ve been wondering the moment you laid eyes on him.

suguru understands your expression immediately, and you find yourself curious about how he can read you so well. especially for a man who doesn’t share a species with you. “you’d like to ask me something, i’m assuming.”

“yes, i would..” you mutter.

his tails splashes up from the water, as if to remind you this isn’t a human you’re interacting with. but his handsome smile only confuses you more. “out with it, then.”

“suguru, what exactly are you?” when you see his smile stay the exact same, you use that as a cue to keep going. “you’re very vague about what creature you are. the curiosity is eating me alive!”

his hand finds the back of his damp neck, he rubs it as if the words you’ve spoken have made him nervous. “i don’t want to tell you.”

“how come?”

“because if i do, you’ll leave.”

you frown when he says that, because how could he anticipate you’d do such a thing after all his help? “suguru, please don’t talk like that. you think so lowly of my care for you! you’ve done so much for me, how could i just leave?”

he clicks his tongue, his eyes darting in every which way. “then give me your word. please?”

“you have my word!” you assure him. “i know you worry after what the last human did to you, but im not like that. i won’t abandon you.”

suguru speaks faster than you expected, the hesitation seems to vanish once you promised him your company would be as everlasting as possible. “i’m a siren.”

you find that you’re less shocked than you should be. and then it hits you. your palm immediately connects with your face, “oh my god! duh—that makes so much sense! how could i be so oblivious!”

suguru is smiling again. “don’t speak of yourself that way. i mean, nobody would expect a siren to be kind to a human. you’d be inclined to think i’m ready to devour you.”

you laugh at that anyway, since the danger of it seems too unreal. “it all makes sense! that’s why i was so lured in by that voice on the beach!”

but..then it started to sink in. a siren, you’ve read plenty about them. as a child, it was all you could do to hope and pray that they didn’t exist! yet here you are, with one right before you, smiling at you like you’re treasure. something about it makes your skin crawl.

he nods calmly, and you can physically see the relief on his features. you note that he’s probably sensed your unease.“i can promise with everything that i won’t devour you.” he says sincerely.

you quickly try to recover. “awh, you don’t want to eat me?”

“not in that way.”

your cheeks feel hot and plump suddenly, and it’s all you can do to awkwardly laugh. he’s such a charming man for one who isn’t exactly that. everything you’ve heard from stories about sirens feels so false. all you know about his diet is how much damn fish he consumes!

“now, for my biggest curiosity..” he trails off, eyes darting to you for permission.

“out with it!” you mimic, sitting up straighter in your little wooden seat. the waves rock you steadily in your boat, and you remind yourself it’s been ages since you’ve enjoyed yourself so much.

“how do human women please themselves? that’s one thing i’ve yet to see.” he says calmly, but you can see in his eyes that he’s eager about something. “sure, i’ve seen couples have sex on boats countless times. but that’s with a man—a penis. so how do—“

“i can show you if you want, suguru.”

his eyes widen slightly, as well as the smile on his face. it turns sly, he looks utterly pleased. “it’d be my honor to watch, darling. but i’d hate to do something you may be uncertain about.

“i’m certain.” you tell him, though your nerves are practically eating at your skin. “you said so yourself, we can learn things from each other.”

he didn’t say anything more. he backs up a bit, then dives underwater. you see glimpses of his gorgeous tail below, though you can’t see it too well. he appears again behind your little boat, and he starts to push it in the direction of a rock.

by the time you realize what he’s doing, you see his figure propped up on the rock before you. at last, you finally get a glimpse of him fully. that tail—that beautiful tail.

it resembles a black beta fish, though there are rips in the fins. in your eyes, at least, it suits him. the color matches his hair perfectly, and you see him even more beautiful than before.

“are you going to teach me? or must you keep staring?” he’s smiling at you, basking in the attention, it seems.

“you’ve never shown me your full body before, that’s all.” you say, eyes drawing a perfect picture of him in your brain for later.

and you do it. you show him. he observes you with such fascination it makes you feel as though you’re the only thing on this earth. he tracks the way your fingers move, his pupils utterly massive. he leans closer to observe, eyes unsure where to track.

and when it’s done, you feel fulfilled.

different. thats the only way to describe a case such as this one. something about suguru looks different. the sharp features on his face seem to have grown even pointer than before, and dark marks have appeared on his cheeks and forehead. and when you see him dive under, you’re almost certain that beautiful tail has gained another rip.

you wave him down mid dive, and he immediately comes to your call. you’re wearing a worried face, but he doesn’t seem to mirror it at all. then again..when have you ever been able to read him?

“suguru..” you start, looking over his face like there’s something missing on it. “are you feeling well today?”

he cocks his head to the side, but his expression doesn’t change. “i’m well, why do you ask? have i worried you?”

“no, no—that’s not it.” you lie horribly. “you just look different today.”

“hideous?”

“now that’s just unfair!”

suguru laughs anyway, staring into your troubled eyes. “i’ve always looked this way, you puzzle me.” he swims backwards a bit, his tail splashing water onto your boat. “perhaps i should go back under so you don’t have to look at my face?”

you frown, not enjoying his humor one bit. “don’t say that, you don’t have to hide from me.” the more you look over his face, the more familiar it seems. “i think i must’ve just slept bad last night. apologies.”

suguru simply hums and nods, diving back under as if the whole interaction never even happened. he’s been so kind to you, to be disturbed by his appearance was to be extremely disrespectful. you can’t expect a siren to stay beautiful forever. he’s not a mermaid.

dear diary, she loves me no longer. she has noticed my features, and she is repulsed by me. i am unsure how to fix this, im sure i have something that can cure this mishap. for now, i must focus solely on pleasing her. she must trust me, and she must love me.

i am intrigued how she noticed so quickly, though i suppose it’s no surprise. my woman is quite intelligent, i must say. it’s one of the main things that fascinates me. human intelligence is a precious thing. i mustn’t let her lose that.

this hasn’t made me lose sight of my role in her life, i don’t think i will ever abandon that. she’s too precious. i suppose ive forgotten how truly fragile humans can be. though that intrigues me the most. i need her. i need her.

immunity is hers.

the days that followed went extremely well. you were making more and more money every day! suguru had a great eye for pearls and whatnot, that’s what brought you the most money.

its the same routine every day, and for once in your life, you feel that things are finally in your control. you have the power over something in your life. you never would’ve imagined such an accomplishment would come from a tragedy such as your father becoming ill.

you have woken up especially early this morning, since you need to purchase a new net before setting out to work. you figure the merchant will have something of decency for you, she’s never once let you down.

the cold, ocean breeze wafts through your lungs with every step you take. few people are walking through the town at this time. nonetheless, you can’t seem to wipe this insistent smile off your face.

but when you arrive, the old woman is not where you expect to find her. usually, she would’ve been standing here awaiting your arrival, with that wrinkly smile on her face, and a crackled tease trapped behind her aching gums.

where could she possibly be?

“hello? miss?” you call out, looking around your surroundings. The few people around you look your way, and about half seem to understand your concerns—they’re all fishers.

you step up to her stand, trying to peer inside. nothing could have ever prepared you for what your eyes lay upon.

she’s in the stand, alright—but she’s on the floor—dead. her face is pale, her mouth agape as blood and foam seeps out of the opening and onto the dusty floor. her eyes are still open, as if she has just dropped dead moments before you came.

she’s deathly quiet. the harsh breathing you typically find when hanging around an old person is gone. it’s so unusually silent—so bleak. the flies have already staked their claim on her, though death has taken her first. such a demise is so unfair, your brain can’t even process the cruelty.

before this situation, perhaps you believed that it’d be hard to tell a person sleeping or dead. but the intense dread, the feeling of complete loss and panic flooding you feels too real to be anything otherwise.

a shallow breath is trapped behind your lungs, your throat feels tight and dry. the color of your irises completely swallow your pupils, though it seems the whiteness of your eyes will swallow them next.

your shaky fingers flex and quake, and you immediately bring them to your wrist to pinch the skin, to awake yourself from whatever twisted, cruel, dream life has thrusted you in when things finally started to look up.

“wake up. wake up, wake up, wake up—“ you don’t get to finish the last thought. a scream comes hurling out of your throat before you can catch it.

how did this happen? did the illness get her? were you next—was your father next? everything felt so confusing. all the joy you had wracked up came crumbling down. how could this be?

you’d never get to tell her about suguru. you’d never get to tell her that you found a man with the most soothing voice of all, one who’s so kind it nearly hurts. you’d never hear her talk about her husband again, or the ocean, or see the way her eyes always softened when she switched from talking to your father to you.

it was gone, it was all gone.

people start to crowd, you look into the ocean. your vision is blurry and dense, but you can still make out the figure watching you.

suguru?

the tragedy in your small fishing town was just beginning. things were changing, things were falling apart. sickness was spreading like wildfire through the town. it picked up from your father, straight to the old woman merchant. and from her to many.

and of all the things you expect, the last thing you anticipate is that you could be blamed for such a thing. you were being shunned in a way, your dreadful ears picked up whispers from the other folks in the town, all of which said it was you who spread the sickness. it was your fault for leaving the house with an ill father.

for two days you stay in your house, and every second of that time you spend in your bed, thoughts swimming through every reason this may be your fault.

because even when you get forced back out, the people you know and their memorized paths are gone. they’re gone, and all you can see is phantom ghosts remaining in every landmark you’d usually smile or wave at.

when you finally get back to work, suguru is awaiting you. he’s far closer to shore than usual, and he’s wearing an extremely worried expression.

“i was so worried you would’ve gotten ill by now.” he suddenly said, both hands finding their way to the edge of your sorry boat. “i’m so relieved. you have no idea.”

just staring at his worried face and remembering everything that happened has you tearing up again. before you can wipe them, tears trickle down your cheeks, right over the dark bags weighing your eyes down.

“everything that could go wrong is going wrong, suguru!” you weep, not daring to look into his eyes. “i feel as though i burden a curse everywhere i go!”

suguru is silent for a while, and he doesn’t even attempt to wipe your tears. “rest assured, my dear, you are not a curse.” he informs you sternly. “you are the most fascinating, lovely thing in my life. if the curse is your undying charm, i am ill with it. you have captured me completely.”

you finally meet his eyes, and you don’t bother arguing with him, as to not disrupt the honesty of both your tears and his lengthy confession. “i appreciate you so much, suguru. i’m unsure how to even word it.”

suguru’s scaly, wet hands cover your shaky ones. and once you really look at him again, you come to the revelation that the features you thought to be peeving and unsettling only days before, blurred into a lovely blend of beauty. he has always been beautiful, he’s always been kind.

you realize how much you really need suguru in your life, he’s the small glisten of a pearl in the darkness that has become your life. you find that the poison of it melts upon every encounter you have with him. he’s healing, in that way.

you latch onto it heavily for a girl who’s never needed such a thing in her life.

the smile on his face is illegible as ever, and yet you find yourself smiling back anyway. “allow me today, my love. you’ve troubled yourself enough.”

my love. such a simple statement for such a stark effect. it comes to your senses that you’re sick with something else.

love.

such woe in the village my pearl is forced to inhabit. i mustn’t sit around and watch her suffer any longer. i must save her from the curse that is humanity, it won’t do her any good. she’s so happy with me, i never once saw such glee in her face elsewhere.

that father of hers weighs her, this forsaken town weighs her. i could give her trouble no longer, and yet..she clings to this useless place.

she seems to be immune to this disease, which is everything i could hope for. even if something did occur, i could fix her.

signed, suguru.

why, why?

why does everything feel wrong? why do you awake with a sense of impending doom and paranoia every hour of the night? why do your legs falter and tremble as you walk the streets? why are your eyes so unfocused?

but most of all..why do you mistrust suguru?

perhaps it’s the force of everyone else mistrusting you, not to mention perishing around you. but suguru has been nothing but good to you, the feeling alone makes guilt gnaw at your body like a vulture does a carcass. he’s on your mind almost all the time, which isnt to say it’s differed much from before in that way. but..the thoughts are different.

every day you feel he’s changed. physically, that is. his beta tail once so beautiful is more torn than ever. the rips and tears once so poetic, now just look dark. purposeful. ugly.

his teeth look sharper, his eyes look darker, where had the light gone? dark spots have appeared on his upper body and face, far more than before. if he hadn’t assured you otherwise, you would’ve thought he was rotting from the inside out.

so to say you’ve grown suspicious is to fit a wicked tale into a twenty-second radio commercial. the most jarring thought of them all is the fact that the disease didn’t spread until you started accepting things he’d given you. and when you went to sell them, something just felt off.

but suguru wouldn’t intentionally give you infected things, that’s simply not plausible.

he loves you, and any chance of you being harmed is something better for the dumpster. so why does he look at you like that when you weep about the state of the village. he never looks angry, per say, just stiff.

“suguru, are you sure you’re okay?” you ask him, avoiding his eyes as you haul up another net of fish. “you look so sickly lately, i’m almost concerned you’ve caught the sickness.”

suguru laughs gently, “you wound me, sweetheart. if my appearance ails you so much, you might as well stick that net right over my horrid face.”

you frown. “don’t say such things. nothing about you ails me.”

it’s a lie, and it tastes so bitter on your tongue. he catches on anyway.

“you know better than to lie to me, don’t you?” you jump once you realize how close he is to your boat. “i’ve done nothing to deserve that kind of treatment. your loss of trust appalls me.”

“that isn’t fair.” you accuse, your emotions are starting to spike far higher than you want them to. you don’t want to lash out at suguru, you don’t want any of this. but it feels as though there’s a hook down your throat forcing everything out. “you don’t get to decide how i act, not when i’ve got so much tragedy in my life!”

“your tongue bears complaints of your life. and yet you won’t let me save you.” his eyes have narrowed, his tone has gone harsh in a way you haven’t heard before. it scares you. he’s scaring you.

“i’ve done so much for you, ive been here every step. why do you reject me, my love? why do you resist my help when it is all that you need?” his sharp teeth are barred, and you think him nothing more than a beast.

“suguru..” his voice comes out like a whimper, a whisper. “please, you’re scaring me..”

“you are a naive woman. you trust all but the one man that can help you. the one man that can free you from this hell!” he has propped himself up on your boat, tipping it to his weight.

you fall back as the boat lurches to one side. tears pool down your cheeks like heavy waterfalls. you find yourself grateful for them, for they blur the horrifying truth before your very eyes. “you are no man, suguru!” you cry, weakly trying to kick him off the edge of your boat with your bare, clumsy feet. “you are nothing but a monster!”

suguru laughs bitterly, grabbing your ankle and yanking you towards him. you scream, high pitched and piercing. but who has time for your moment of tragedy when they’re so busied with their own?

“a monster, am i?” you stare at him, eyes gaping wide and pupils no bigger than a minuscule fish egg. “i wonder what that makes you, my dear.”

“don’t call me that, you ghastly thing!” you struggle, wildly kicking at his too-strong arms, but you realize you’re unable to kick his face. the face once so soft and caring, was now a concoction of cruelty and something so inhuman you deem it unable to belong anywhere. such a thing is unfit for even hell.

hell was the world you lived in, you simply could not coexist.

“i am nothing compared to you!” you practically scream, sobbing so hard you feel as though your lungs are trying to claw a hole through your chest. your heart drums against your chest so persistently it feels pretend, it burns through your dreadful veins. “you are a despicable, monstrous, demon! i have done nothing to deserve this!”

you can only sob, even escaping feels so unjust, so jarring. “why must this happen to me. why can’t i be happy? why can’t i just live?!” you kick at him. “why do i have a monster yanking at my leg! and why does it hurt so bad!”

suguru knows better than to register such a statement as physical pain. it’s apparent even someone as strong as you can’t handle such a betrayal. “oh, but you’ve done much to deserve this.”

he holds you still, and the eye contact you share with him no longer gives you butterflies, it’s something closer to venom. the black hair dipping over his shoulders feels too dark, too fitting for the blackness now rooted in your heart. the gashes of rot on his face feel adjacent to every daring, hurtful word he’s said. as if this moment had been preplanned, and dished out right in front of your face like a buffet laced in poison.

like a beautiful pearl before you, swindled into complete, pearly perfection. only to be something monstrous in all actuality.

his voice snaps you out of your miserable trance. “you are at fault for the disease in this town. it is you who brought it past the shore.” there’s an ugly grin on his face. “such a rotten girl you are..putting cursed items right into the palms of that innocent old woman.”

you can’t breathe—you can’t breathe at all. every breath of air dodges your lungs. the truth of your worldly hell came so fast, and so unbearably sleek. all this time you’ve been wondering why this has happened, what everyone did to deserve such a horrible fate?

but the truth has been in front of you all along. it’s your fault, it always has been.

the image of the poor, old woman dead before your very eyes floods your mind once again. her ajar mouth, the foam seeping out. the pale, sickly skin that looked similar to the sorry flesh of a shark. despair has tattooed all you can see, all you are. it’s gotten your eyes, your tongue, your heart, your very soul. you feel as though your sole purpose is to wound, to kill, to dispose, to sicken.

your lungs feel like they’ve trapped carbon into every crevice, taking a breath doesn’t seem human anymore. it doesn’t seem fitting, it doesn’t seem deserved. you’re thrust carelessly into a barbaric, theatrical production. all the souls you’ve been responsible for departing from the earth scream at you, they wail and beg for their lives back. for the burning in their lungs to seize, for their coughs to subside. you’re at the center of the spotlight, and even more so, you’re the villain.

not the monster before you. just you. only you.

and after all of that, after you feel your whole world crashing down before your very eyes, all you can croak out is a pathetic: “…what?”

“oh? is that all you can say?” he has stopped pulling you towards him, but he continues to hold you still. you couldn’t move even if it willed you. “what do you have to say for all the blood on your hands? do you still think yourself purely innocent?”

a shaky sob wracks your body, and the ocean breeze makes your tears feel frigid against your cheeks. the muscles in your face ache from the strain of despair, so much so that you almost can’t take it. “nobody in their right mind thinks that way! i thought i could trust you!”

suguru looks at you curiously, and you quickly remember the clouded view of humanity he has absorbed throughout his life.

“well, who in their right mind trusts what a siren has to say? even after i revealed myself..you stayed.” oh, how you hate this man—this thing.

“you’re the source of the disease, suguru. you’ve diseased these people just like you’ve diseased my life!” he smiles, “you set me up! how was i supposed to know you cursed what i was selling!”

suguru’s sharp eyes are attached to your teary ones, and neither of you can look away. “how unreasonable. it’s not your people’s fault you’re so naive.”

“i didn’t make this disease!”

“you spread it.”

something in your head seems to click, it must’ve been audible since suguru raised his eyebrow at you. or maybe it’s because your frantic sobbing has nearly seized. “wait..wait wait wait..” your breath hitches, your soul latches onto your veins, your eyes focus on the webbed hand holding you hostage. “my father. he was sick before i started to sell things.”

when you finally meet suguru’s eyes, he’s smiling again. and for once in your whole time meeting him, you know what that smile means. there are no words needed to narrate it any longer.

“suguru..what the hell did you do to my father?”

his hand caresses your calf, but in your mind it just burns. “what i had to, my darling. how would i have gotten you alone with him in the way?” he doesn’t stop upon seeing the horror on your face. “you’re a lucky woman. i kept him alive for you.”

you can’t scream anymore. you can hardly even take a breath. every emotion permeating throughout your body feels staged and dull, and you find that you’re back to the start. where everything just feels wrong.

the sky seems to open up. the gods, the victims of that damned illness, the folks from your town, they all point their accusing fingers at you and laugh. you’re a fool. you are a laughing stock produced by your own naivety. everybody who’s suffered because you let this creature get close tear away at your skin—your autonomy. you feel it, you feel it all peeling off your body. your thoughts, your will to keep going in this life.

your body is stuck in an apology it’s unsure how to process. terror is lodged so deep inside your stomach it churns and creates an illness of its own brewing inside your gut. your brain is a stop motion, every clip being one of suguru. one where you should’ve realized something was off, where you missed what was right in front of your face.

you died with the others in your village, with the old woman. and what you see now is the surroundings of your new reality—some layer of hell you could’ve never even imagined. your heart, your organs—they’re all boiling in your blood. deep, ferocious anger bubbles throughout your body like a toxic gas.

“i’m starting to understand something, suguru.”

“and what’s that?” he purrs. too easy, too eager.

“why satoru ran away from you.”

suguru’s smile doesn’t vanish immediately. its a slow, startling uncurl of his lips. the sharp pearls of his teeth are nowhere to be seen. he doesn’t speak for a long while, he just stares at you with those damned eyes. those very eyes you thought to be so gentle, now just looked hungry. it wouldn’t surprise you if he leaped out of the water and took a clean bite out of your weary head.

“you’ve got so much to understand, my love.” you dread the way his smile almost comes back, it makes you nauseous. “and i’ll be the one to show you.”

you don’t get to reply, you don’t get to argue. before any thought of such a thing comes to your head, you’re already being dragged off your boat. salt water engulfs all your senses, all you can feel, hear, and smell is the sick concoction of guilt and freezing water swallowing you whole. the burn in your head is agonizing. though you wonder..why aren’t you drowning?

all you can see is the unmistakable sight of suguru. his torn tail, his sharp eyes, his beautiful hair that you used to love so much. it distracted you from the water swirling around you, the way you seem to sink deeper and deeper into an unknown abyss.

into somewhere out of your control.

a purple light illuminates the space between you and the monster. when has a pearl ever glowed like that? there’s a thick feeling latching onto your skin, and you feel like your soul is being pulled right from your pores. maybe it is.

“you don’t understand, my love. i must do this so i don’t devour you. so i can keep you.” of course, of course this was happening.

the last thing you see before it all goes black, is the beautiful string of suguru’s smile. for that would be the last thing you’d see as a human.

june.

waves crash against the dock bordering the village. the ocean breeze wafts through the small shops lining the road—just as before. nothing has changed, really. the disease managed to seize itself for unknown reasons, and almost all the people have gotten healthy again. whats more unknown is where such a horrid illness came from.

i myself have gotten healthy. as someone who was the first to inhabit such a disease, i feel blessed and guilty.

i’ve gotten back to work, busying myself with bringing home money for one. my daughter has mysteriously disappeared, and i had been too sick to even notice. i took longer than a father should have. i miss my daughter.

i miss her.

the routine is the same. catch. sell. buy. repeat. but it feels so off. it doesn’t feel right without her by my side. i can’t sleep at night knowing she could be somewhere out there. or even worse, dead. i know that i’ve failed.

the ocean is sparkling more today, and i acknowledge that i see my daughter in every beautiful thing in sight. in the flowers, the waves that aren’t too tall, and the beautiful pearls being sold to anyone who can afford them. i never thought to buy pearls, i’m sure she would’ve loved to have a nice string for herself.

perhaps she has them wherever she may be.

the sun nearly dips below the sea entirely before i realize i should head back. i look into the ocean once again, as if to say goodbye.

peeking out of the water is the head of a woman, and a few feet away is a beautiful fin. she looks so much like my daughter that it makes me nauseous. she’s got her hair. her eyes. her nose. her smile. she is looking at me, though something about her features seem so vacant. i blink to reset whatever hallucination may be before me, only to see that nothing is there.

how peculiar, oceanic creatures have always intrigued my daughter.

NOTE: kinda posting this impulsively..! i’m not really back yet, but my moment of weakness has motivated me to finish this piece. i know it’s kinda buns but i hope you guys can enjoy it! <3

tags: @sugurusbadhabit @xqce @sugurusplaything @satorusdollie @heavenlyrestrained @getopilleds @florcosmi @valberryboos @3lliesr1fle @jijikawa @shnauwi @icebearcucumber @tojiscreampie @im-a-simp139 @pussydrunklilac @maxxthefan @limitless-satoru @catgvrl @v4mp1r3b4tzz @yxo7 @blu-goingdark @dearkuna

[indiewritesxoxo]

when sukuna goes low, toxic!reader goes lower!

locking him out | pudding cup problems | jealous kuna!

Everyone said your breakup was inevitable.

You never believed them.

Even if it was you who stubbornly ended things after a nasty argument over something stupid, who was supposed to take out the trash turning into the complete and utter decimation of your relationship as you took turns rattling off every single aspect wrong with your relationship.

How much you hated how Sukuna only told you he loved you when he was between your thighs. How much he hated the way you snapped at the tiniest things.

But it was the moment he called you annoying for picking a fight that you pushed him out your front door and told him to never come back if he actually thought that.

"I didn't mean-" He called out, pounding on the door as you scoffed, rubbing underneath your eyes before any tears could actually fall.

"You fucking said it."

"Don't be like this," Sukuna snapped, the door frame rattling underneath the force of his fist.

"Just go," you scoffed. "You don't have a girlfriend to annoy you anymore here."

It wasn’t like you hadn’t fought like that before.

But you were mad enough to block every number he tried to text you from and change your locks for the twentieth time instead of begrudgingly letting him back into your home and your heart.

You could forgive him for letting other girls flirt with him, or forgetting to text you back. You couldn't forgive him for wounding your ego.

A reasonable girl probably would'e nursed her broken heart by sleeping with one of his friends.

You, on the other hand, fucked his landlord instead.

Sure, it took a little bit of research, but he was hot, at least. And went to the same bar every Friday night for you to find him at. All you had to do was slip into the seat next to him and he was taking you home half an hour later.

To the floor right above your ex-boyfriend's apartment.

His car was in the parking lot. His lights were on from outside.

So he was certainly home to hear you moaning like a cheap porn star, gasping out and groaning as the headboard smacked into the wall with each mean snap of his hips against your skin.

Did he realize it was you?

"Um, what's your name again?" You pretended not to know, tilting your head to the side as your hookup's scarred mouth curled up in a smirk.

"Toji," he grinned, grabbing your thigh and pinning it against your chest as he grinded the fat tip of his cock nice and deep. "What's yours?"

You slyly smiled back at him, whispering it softly knowing he'd be more than happy to repeat it.

So Sukuna would have to know who was moving on first.

What did it matter if you couldn't cum without closing your eyes and picturing him on top of you instead? Or if you just felt hollow by the time he pulled out and pumped his cum all over your stomach, lazily walking over to clean you up with the t-shirt he'd been wearing?

You sorta thought he'd come stomping upstairs and banging on the door to demand you came back out.

But you only woke up to a stranger with dark hair snoring on you, his head slumped on your breast as one of his calloused palms squeezed your ass.

You were going to just sneak out.

It was just, he woke up to you getting dressed, and you somehow ended up walking down the stairs with him to go get breakfast in last night's mini dress, your makeup smeared around your eyes and your purse slung across the shoulders as he led you down the concrete stairs.

And straight into Sukuna.

Who, uh, must've missed last night's show judging by the stunned surprise written all over his face, nearly dropping the coffee in his hand as he froze in place.

But then Toji was tugging you against him, pulling you down the rest of the way and pushing open the door to the bottom floor with a scoff. "Don't know what the fuck his deal was."

"We, um, actually used to date," you murmured, softening your voice and looking up at him with your most innocent eyes. "It was kind of a bad breakup."

"Want me to raise his rent?"

a/n: do y'all want one more of him winning her back?

dedicated to my beloved @yenayaps

div by @/mieluno

[slntty]

☃︎ stupid fratjo tales : run, y/n-chan ! masterlist

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 bestfriend!fratjo x sweetnerd!sororitygirlreader (16.3k) ˚. 𝜗𝜚 .

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ Synopsis: Satoru’s mean yet lovable while you’re sweet and lovable—together, you’re just lovable and lovable! (B99 reference) But what happens when he puts people’s perception of him before you? Will you be able to move on from the things he’ll say or will you find other people and stray away? 𓏵‧₊˚ ┊

⚠️: artworkbymochikuyo , deaddove , pwp , angst , smut , suggestive , fluff , violence , TOXIC , penetration , degradation , praise , pining , oral (f!receiving & m!receiving) , fingering , meangojo , alcohol , smoking , bullying , toxicgojo , manipulation , slightgetoxreader , slightnaoyaxreader , afab!reader , moreplotthanporn , toxicmasculinity , drama , mommy&daddyissues , slightdubcon , dacryphilia , misogyny

🗒️: A gift for @jaycee374, happy birthday, lovely :) thank u for reading my fics from @wkbsrco ! I hope you had a wonderful day ʚɞ This is more of a stand alone fic, but it’s the same premise… I’m really sorry if this took so long, but I really tried to make the story make more sense and actually connect. there’s also more dialogue and angst than the original… I hope I met your expectations, enjoy :p

Satoru Gojo—handsome, rich, untouchable. He was basically royalty, which is kind of an accurate comparison per se. His everything came not from hard work but from simply being born. A man born lucky just like each rich bum that came before him.

Sure, he had a somewhat self-made infamous name for himself by the time he was sixteen from modeling and all that prissy shit, but everyone knows he had and always will have a foot in the door. Even if his family’s enterprise meets its inevitable demise, the whole world knows that sick fuck will come out on top just because he always does.

Because he’s Satoru.

Little to nothing changed when he met you during freshman orientation about a year ago. Despite being a fresh adult, who should be a little more mature, he was still the same irksome, suave guy, who never quite fell off of their high school peak, the exact type of man you hate.

Bored out of his mind, he decided to find the next victim of his irresistable charm. And his eyes landed on you. You weren't his usual type, but you were definitely pretty enough to have fun with. To a prick like him, it didn't really matter who you were for as long as you adorned a cute face.

And so, it begun.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he purred low in your ear, upon seeing you alone. He’s a little too close for a stranger, but of course, he doesn’t care. Why would he? "Girls like you probably wouldn't mind receiving a little attention from a guy like him, yeah? It's probably once in a lifetime," he snickers to himself.

Boy, was he wrong. You spurned, stepping back with pure disgust written on your adorably dolled face. “Sorry,” you start sarcastically. “Do I know you or are you just some upperclassman creep?”

The snowy-locked manchild only snickered, “You’re feisty, I like that. Buuut I know you’re a good girl deep down.” He poked your cheek like it was his godforsaken right to be so near. He was so annoyingly confident (though, you have to admit, his looks did cushion the blow).

“Definitely not towards you,” you hissed at the bold boy.

Satoru shrugged. “Sure, pretty, whatever. Satoru Gojo, by the way. A first year, just like you—not some ‘upperclassman creep’ as you so colorfully put it, angel face,” he held his hand out for you to shake.

For a moment, you rightfully hesitated. But really, what was the harm in accepting affection he so easily threw away?

You put your hand in his, manicured paw clutching soft hand that knew no labor. Just then, he intertwined your fingers with his freakishly long ones and brought the back of your palm close to his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says so softly, and you swear you saw a few girls almost swooning as he winked, wishing it was directed at them. And you hate to admit it, but your cheeks definitely flushed at his stupid trap.

He chuckled, eyes narrowing and everything. “You’re cute. You’re my best friend now, okay?”

You gave him a derisive look, trying to hide the blush that crept up your cheeks. “I don’t even know you.”

“Well, you already know my name, that's a start,” he kids. "You'll know more about me soon enough, don't worry your pretty little head about it, princess," he said. All the while, tapping your skull thrice.

Back then, it was all a joke—you were supposed to be a pastime. Someone pretty to look at while ugly enough to discard. He didn’t expect himself to fall for your simple charm and weird idiosyncrasies. You're cute, witty, and nice (for the most part), just enough to hit his trifecta. Yeah, he knew that eventually, he’d kiss you, touch you, and sleep with you; but it should never have been that serious.

He doesn’t do romance. Not even for you.

—

Right now, you're at another one of Jujutsu Phi's parties. The other Alpha Kaisen girls are nowhere around to be found on the large couch—probably already with their own guy of the night.

You're just with Satoru, propped on his lap like a good little doll, always at his disposal. His friends converse while you just listen, too buzzed, maybe even plastered. Well, who wouldn't be after they were given one, two many cocktails by, none other than, Satoru Gojo?

“Baby,” he chirps, tapping your ass with his large palm twice. “D’ya mind getting me another drink?” he whispers in your ear, shedding his arms off of your almost limp body. You groan, not out of disdain. You’re just drunk out of your mind, and a little bit dazed.

You shuffle on his lap, brushing over the obvious tent on his crotch. He groans a bit, but you’re a little too out of it to catch the sound. “But I’m so sleepy, ‘Toru…” you grumble against the skin of his neck. In turn, he sighs out a response, “C’mon, angel. ‘Toru’s really thirsty.” But you only shake your head against him.

With a deep exhale, he cradles your head in his palm, keeping you in place. “Let’s get you up to my room,” he mutters, “Always so dependent on your dear ‘Toru, huh, baby?”

You nod, mind unable to think coherently enough to tell him off. He laughs, knowing you'd be kicking him in the balls right about now if you were the least bit sober. "Mhm, super dependent," he mocks.

He puts his empty solo cup down on the short mahogany table and stands, making sure to hold you tightly enough so you won't fall yet gently enough so your skin won't bruise. Silently, he eases through the dancing crowd with practiced ease.

"Where're ya heading, Gojobaby?" the frat sweetheart asks with slurred speech, blatantly ignoring you, who's cradled so sweetly in Satoru's arms.

"To my room, sweets. Don'cha worry, I'll be back though," he winks, not at all caring that you're there to hear. What a whore he is.

Before reaching the stairs, he catches a certain dark-haired senior mouthing, “whipped,” in the corner of his eye. He scowls. Toji’s definitely his least favorite senior by far. As he steps, he hears cackling from below. He knows it's about him—he knows of the torment that will follow.

Once you reach his room, he sets you down on his bed. “Stay upright for me for a bit, princess. Can your cute drunk self do that for me?” he asks, and you nod in response. He leaves you be after offering a gentle grin, just to ease whatever worries run rampant in your mind—the ones you'd never openly tell.

He rummages through his closet for clothes small enough to fit your stature and a soft, clean towel to use on your face then body. For a moment, you just quietly sit down, surveying his room as if you haven’t been here a million times already.

Neatly stacked books, seemingly untouched. Navy blue sheets, soft and warm. Posters, figurines, and what could only be described as a shrine of you. Right, he never lets other girls in his room—unless it's you. But you're just friends, right?

Right, yet on n the walls are arranged polaroids of the two of you—none with any other girl he’s flirted with. Maybe he keeps them in a box, away from prying eyes such as your own. You don’t really know. You try not to probe and think too much around him.

Your eyes fall onto one specific photo. You and him after seven minutes in heaven—an image taken by Yuki Tsukumo, your favorite senior. He looks a little fucked out in the picture and so do you.

Hair disheveled. Eyes narrowed. Bodies tangled.

You start to look back on the not-so-distant past.

—

Everyone who knows Satoru, close or not, remembers the story like it was yesterday. The two of you were pulled into a game of "seven minutes in heaven" by Toji Fushiguro, a third-year at the time. To be frank, everything was going great at first. The two of you touched a bit then made out. He whispered something along the lines of, "Are you sure about this?" In response, you just nodded shyly.

Not even seven minutes later, maybe five at best, the doors opened abruptly with flashing lights directed towards you and the drunken boy. While Yuki took the polaroid photo, other stupid college kids took digital snapshots that made it all over social media before dawn—fanmade forums asked who you are, thirsty netizens scoured the internet for your posts, and an ungodly amount of people got involved for no damn reason but a stupid makeout session.

Your boy(friend), as gossip outlets put it, even had to release a statement saying it was just a fun party game and that you're both just friends. It was a straightforward statement that held no malice, yet it wasn't reported as such.

"Gojo Satoru calls College Blockmate 'Not Pretty Enough'" and other headlines along the lines of that cruel joke circulated the net. You remember sobbing as you read the articles and while you watched his statement and the interviews. You thought maybe you really weren't cut out for his lifestyle. In retrospect, maybe you really aren't.

Unsolicited comments were thrown at you no matter how many times you've hit the block button, which ultimately made you decide on keeping your count private for the time being.

You tried to ignore him in campus—you really really did, but it was no use. He was everywhere, and he wouldn't leave you alone. To some extent, you're glad he didn't. Even when you pushed him away, yelled at him, and almost spat in his face, he stayed.

He was sweet—only behind closed doors. Much like you, afraid of what the world has to say, afraid of being seen as weak.

A month after the whole thing blew off, he called you. "Hey, baby, 'you hungry?" he said through the phone. You rubbed your eyes and groaned softly, fatigue excruciatingly evident even without visual evidence. You didn't respond to him for a moment, only clicked the side of your cell to check the time: one in the fucking morning, how poetic.

Despite the late hour (perhaps early hour would be more appropriate), you snuck out of the sorority house, being careful as to not wake the other girls up.

"You know I didn't mean it, angel face," he cooed as he placed a kiss on the apple of your cheek. Now, the two of you were in his car, dark, sleek—a vehicle that reeked of old money and strong connections. It looked out of place in the random fast food place's parking lot.

"But you still said it," you sniffled, biting into whatever food he offered you. It was probably a burger or fries? You don't really remember much from this moment apart from the heartache he embedded into you.

"Well, I had to save my ass some way, no? How else would I have a viable source of income for your shopping sprees?" he joked, but not a happy sound escaped past your pursed lips.

At that moment, it really hit you. He'll save his ass first before anyone else's, if at all. And maybe, just maybe, you sat in the passenger's seat in silence, hoping, one day, he'd choose to rescue you.

—

You're soon pulled out of your "harking back" trance as Satoru speaks.

“Reminiscing there, cutie?” he says, coming out of the closet bearing gifts. In one hand, a small white tee with big bold letters over the chest saying “titties make me smile.” It looks a little too small for him but perfect for you, just a little number that'll go a little past your thighs.

“Classy,” you remark with a smile. “Only the best for my princess!” he replies. You giggle at his words, of course you do, not even caring about the melancholic thoughts from earlier—you’re easy and he’s hard.

Like always.

He kneels on the foot of his bed right in front of you to take your shoes off. They’re cute kitten heels—the ones he got you for your birthday last year. A gift you wouldn’t just give a girl. You wiggle your toes, now free from the pretty pink jail. He laughs, leaning down to kiss the arch gently.

“Foot kink?” you tease. “Yeah, but just for you,” he replies. Smooth. So annoying.

He stands back up, trying to stay awake. You can’t both be on the verge of passing out. He probably wouldn’t care if you were any other girl though.

Satoru opens his arms, and you instinctively dive in. He takes you to his private bathroom and sets you down gently on the cool marble counter on which you shift uncomfortably. “So cold…” you murmur with a pout on your plump lips. He then laughs, a boyish grin adorning his perfect face.

“I know, baby. But it’s just for a bit, yeah? Let’s just clean your face and change your clothes, ‘kay?” he reasons while gently rubbing the side of your thighs to warm his sweet girl up.

“Okay, ‘Toru,” you pliantly agree.

Right after, he dampens the face cloth with warm water. His large palm then rests behind your head to keep you still as he gently pats then wipes over the planes of your skin. It’s intimate—gentle, much unlike the Satoru the world knew.

“Satoru,” you randomly call out, now, all giggly. “Yes, baby?” he asks, inviting you to tell him more. “What if I turned into a cat, would you keep me?”

He pretends to think for a second, thinking of some otherworldly response to your inane yet adorable question. “Of course I would, angel. You’d be the frat’s kitten—more so than you already are,” he chides.

You instantly beam at his words. “What if I could no longer open my mouth; therefore, I couldn’t communicate with you,” you challenge.

The young man only shrugs as if he’s been asked the same question a hundred times before and over. “Well, I’ll be kind of sad that you can’t suck my dick anymore—that’s a really big bummer, but other than that, it’s fine. We can find other ways to speak to each other, yeah?” Adding humor to a nice message, on-brand.

You pinch his nose playfully. “You’re such a pervert.”

“Only for you,” he repeats his earlier sentiments.

After successfully cleaning your face, he helps you remove your clothes. Like always, when your bra is off, he stares a little too long. “Eyes up here, ‘Toru,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Though, it only works in his favor since it accentuates your tits.

“They looked at me first. Plus, I missed my girls. I barely got to see them all week,” he all but whines.

“Don’cha have hic other good fucks?” you slur, raising an eyebrow at the blue-eyed brat.

He chuckles. “None as good as you.”

“Why?” you ask, irises dark yet hopeful with drunken haze and curiosity.

He wants to respond with: because with you, it’s intimate, like I don’t have to pretend that lust is the highest high I could get. But, of course, he doesn’t. Is there an invisible power that prevents him from fleshing out his raw emotions because if there is, you’d gladly fucking defeat it.

You can see it clearly in his expression—how he turns away then glances back. He’s pining. Hoping. Wishing. And all you want is for him to accept that fact.

“Y’know, for such a nerdy little princess, you sure do ask little ol’ me a lot of questions,” he forces a smile as he puts his “titties make me smile” shirt over your head and onto your body.

You decide not to push it further as to not dampen his mood. He thanks you quietly with a soft smile. “Alright, d’ya wanna wear sweatpants or just the shirt and panties?” he inquires. “This is fine, ‘Toru, thank you,” you reply.

He plants a soft kiss on the apple of your cheek like he did a year ago. Is this fate? Is the universe telling you that he's bound to trample on your precious little heart until it can no longer trust or be given to another? “Let’s put you to sleep then, angel face,” he says before bringing you back to his bed, shutting the bright lights off to give way to his bedside lamp’s dim glow. He's sort of rushing, but you don't quite understand why. God, the suddenness of everything makes you want to throw up, but you hold it in.

Immediately, you close your eyes as he tucks you in, swallowing whatever it is your throat wants out—vomit or a confession of your undying love? Whatever it is, it’s falling back down to the pits of your stomach, where it can soak in acid.

“Thank you for taking care hic of me,” you murmur as he caresses your face. “Of course, baby. Besides, you always take care of me,” he replies.

You simper. “Are you going back down?”

He nods in response. “Yeah, maybe play a little beer pong after I grab myself a drink. Just go to sleep okay? Your phone’s just on the nighstand. Call me if you need me, pretty girl,” he instructs before leaving a kiss on your jaw. Consequently, he leaves you to wallow in your own, self-destructive, thoughts much like he's doing behind the door, away from the alluring pool in your eyes that sing to him like sirens—ready to entrap him.

—

The party rages downstairs, even more so now that Satoru's been spotted by the sweetheart. "Gojo!" she exclaims. He smiles lazily, squeezing her ass with a sizzling hiss. "Hey, baby," he greets her.

"Where's y/n?" she asks, feigning concern as the two of them walk over to the kitchen, where Suguru's mixing drinks and Choso's passing out blunts for a only a few thousand yen.

Satoru shrugs, desperately trying to radiate disinterest at the mention of your name. "Upstairs, asleep. Couldn't handle her liquor," he replies.

"And you took care of her," the pretty blonde points out. She's trying gauge his reaction, checking if he's going to blindly agree or deflect.

"Well yeah, I did," he starts, and she thinks she doesn't stand a chance. "But I'm just returning the favor, if you know what I mean."

“Wanna smoke? Maybe it’ll take your mind off whatever,” the girl giggles. He turns her down though, “Nah, don’t really like the smell.” What a lie. You don’t like the smell, and he’s sleeping beside you tonight.

“Just a drink then?”

“Yeah, just a drink,” he repeats.

The snowy-locked bastard then decides to finally pour himself a drink, grabbing a new solo cup to fill it with one of Suguru's newest mix—it's something sweet and tangy, and it almost reminds him of you.

Upon the first sip, he pauses for a bit and the shorter girl notices. "Something wrong, Gojo?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, probably just a foreign taste," he lies through his pearly teeth, filling his cup a little more. Alien taste or a flavor he can never forget?

"Hm, it tastes pretty good to me, kinda sweet though, don'cha think?" He nods in response to her prompt, "Yeah, a little," he answers as if it bothers him. And maybe it does because his mind is flooded with memories of that sickeningly sweet substance you insist of coating your lips with everytime you kiss. Fuck, did you pavlov him?

Well, whatever it is doesn't really matter, right? He'll totally forget about you soon enough. He'll tear down your pictures on his wall and he'll throw away your little trinkets in his room. Because Satoru Gojo doesn't do relationships even if the mere thought of tucking away that cute polaroid he has of you brings him immense discomfort.

"Oi! Satoru!" Toji calls out from across the room. "Got a new girl with ya? What happened to y/n?" he asked teasingly.

Satoru sighs in response, "Why does everyone keep asking me about her??"

"'Cause you're totally in love with her, dude," Sukuna scoffs from behind. Since when did he get here? And why the fuck is he butting in right now?

"So you do like her!" the girl on his arm accuses.

"So what is it, Gojo? Do you like her or is she just a good fuck?" Toji interrogates, “But like, I heard she’s kinda a study-holic, so what’s that like? She just cockwarms you while going through flash cards?”

Choso, ever-so-sweet, interjects, "Cut it out, dude... y/n's nice." Nanami, listening from the other side of the counter nods in agreement. "She is. Additionally, the girls won't be happy if they hear us bad mouthing their favorite pledge."

The large man with a scarred lip rolls his eyes playfully and points a circling finger on his like to say: Nanami's being cuckoo! "Ahh, they won't find out. There's a hundred people here and the girls are probably with their guys."

"Right, and she's in her second year, dummy. Yuki’s prolly got a new favorite," Sukuna jests, which makes Nanami's face harden. The tattooed brute with pink hair then turns back to Satoru, "So? Spit it out? Ya like 'good girl pussy' now? Or d’ya like nerds or what?"

Suguru’s about to speak, but he bites his tongue, seeing as Satoru’s about to burst. The white-haired jerk downs his spirits in frustration. With a loud scoff, he says, "Get your head outta your asses and listen to me when I say I don't like her, okay? I don’t think she’s all that with her crooked teeth, painted face—uneven eyes! Just—whatever!" he yells like judging who you are is his birthright. Wow! It really takes a man to spill out the little things you’re insecure about to a room full of friends and strangers. He wipes a large hand over his face in anger directed at whoever. "She's nothing. We're nothing," he says with finality as he dismisses the girl that clung onto his arm with a harsh shrug.

Sukuna raises his arms in jest. "Woah, boy. No need to get your panties in a twist." The room bursts in laughter at the, clearly, inebriated boy.

He stomps away from the group and marches up to his room, where you're waiting for him with eyes wide open.

—

You hear the lock shift, but you don't panic. You know it's just Satoru. He locks the door for extra security—he says it's to keep his collector's items intact, but you know it's to protect you.

Frustration is evident in his expression as he enters the room. The lamp is still on while you're scrolling on your phone that you abruptly shut as soon as his eyes land on you. "Back so soon?" you call out from under his sheets. It hasn't even been half an hour and he's already waltzing in.

He kicks the door behind him and locks it with a soft click, gaze never wavering away from your form. "Yeah, the guys were pissing me off," he finally answers you.

"Oh? What were they saying?" you question as you sit up.

Satoru toes his shoes off, not bothering to lay them properly beside the door. He then comes closer, getting on hs bed to hover over you—the soft mattress dipping because of his weight.

You look up at his face, he's flushed, intoxicated by whatever he drank. "Are you okay, 'Toru?" you tell him so sweetly. Your tone has him almost moaning from how sickening it is to hear.

"Yeah, pretty, I just need ta taste ya right now, okay? “Can I?" he slightly slurs. You're a little less drunk than you were earlier, so you can properly understand what's going on. Though, you're unsure whether saying yes right now would be wise. But really, when have you ever been wise with Satoru Gojo?

"Okay," you breathe out gently, and he smirks.

His lips immediately latch onto your own. God, you taste just like that concoction Suguru came up with. It's uncanny. He laps you up like a man who almost died of thirst. "Satoru!" you giggle in between shameless kisses.

You wrap your arms around his head, hoping to keep him still. By the way he's moving, you're sure your lips are going to be chafed.

Teeth, clashed. Tongues, drawn. Salivas, exchanged.

And Satoru's still not done. He wants more, he needs more—flavor.

He trails down your body, leaving hickeys all over plump porcelain skin. "Ya taste so good, angel," he heaves as you start to squirm beneath him.

"Shh," he hushes, "Stay still for me, yeah?" And all you could do is whine as he pins you down harder. You try to relax, but he's sucking on all your sensitive spots. It's too hard to act normal like this.

He intertwines his fingers with yours while he spreads your legs with his knees, rendering you completely unable to fight back. "Gentler..." you murmur, hoping he'll listen.

His dark eyes flicker back to the usual baby blue, softening his grip on you and leaving kisses instead of countless bites on your, now, bruised collar. "Sorry," he whispers back. "Jus'... need to go lower, please?" he begs, busting out the puppy eyes that always seem to work.

"Just be gentle, okay, 'Toru?" you warn, and he nods in response.

He sits up, drinking in how you look under him for just a moment before pushing himself back to stare at your clothed sex. Almost immediately, a pink tint brushes over your cheeks. "Stop staring, 'Toru. It's embarassing," you whine.

The large man laughs a little bit at your words. "Seriously? I'm about to eat your cunt, and me staring is what you're worried about?" he jokes. "If I were you, pretty, I'd be more worried about how I'm to keep my head on straight a few minutes from now."

"Satoru!" you aqueal at his crude words.

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You know it's true." Well, he may be right but hearing it from him just sounds weird! "Lift your ass for me a little bit," he instructs as he tugs your panties down your legs. He chuckles upon seeing sticky slick already coating your entrance, some even stuck on the fabric that once housed your core.

"Is all this f'me or were you watching porn on your phone before I came in—perhaps looking at my photos, huh?" he teases while you look to the side. "I wasn't," you try to defend yourself.

"Mhm, sure, princess. You can tell me though, I wouldn't mind such a cutie getting off to me," he winks with a boyish grin plastered on his stupidly sculpted face. He's no longer clinging on to the frustration he acquired from going downstairs. Now, he's just slightly insufferable and slightly yours.

He licks a long, slow stripe on your slit, making sure your juices coat his tongue thickly. It's gross how he keeps eye contact while he lets out exaggerated pornographic mewls. "Fuck, now that's a taste Suguru can't recreate."

Those words stop you mid whimper. "H—Huh...?" you stammer.

“Everyone was pissing me off downstairs,” Satoru starts while making out with your pussy lips, the vibrations send a tingle through every neuron in your body, and you can’t help but yelp. He hushes you again, “Baby, I’m talking to her right now.”

“You’re being too noisy,” he adds.

You whine but oblige anyways. “Right, so, everyone was pissing me off so bad!” he rants in between sloppy slurps. “Toji and Sukuna were being such shitheads. I wish I could beat them up, but I don’t really want to deal with administrative nonsense right now.”

“W—What did they dooooo?” you manage to stutter out, almost shrieking.

He raises an eyebrow playfully, pausing for a second. “Huh, I didn’t know pussies could talk, that’s fun,” he teases. “Well, they were talking about stuff, but that’s unimportant right now. I’m jus’ so fuckin’ pissed, and it’s all your fault.”

“M—My fault?” you whine out a question.

“Your fault,” he just repeats as he inserts a finger in your tired hole. It’s painstakingly slow as it wriggles in, curling and poking against your gummy walls.

Your repressed moans are music to his ears. He sighs, “You try so hard to be a good girl. It’s adorable.”

Satoru then sucks on your clit as he lets another finger slide through your slippery folds. He breathes warm against your bud. “Y’know, this is also your fault. If you’d just gone to sleep, you wouldn’t be writhing right now,” he lectures you.

“I—I couldn’t sleep… but I wasn’t watching anything! I promise, ‘Toruuu!” you whine.

He hums against your sobbing slit, “Then maybe this’ll help then. Cum for me, angel face.” He curls his index and ring finger inside of you as he sucks exponentially well on the bundle of nerves above your puffy skin.

In turn, you reach for his hair, gripping the white tufts tightly while preparing to come undone. “Satoru!” you mewl then shut your thighs around his head with all the strength you have left in you.

He laps your fluids up. It could be urine for all he cares. He’d gladly drink whatever comes out of you (what a weirdo, right?).

For about half a minute, you keep him there as you ride your high. It’s when he laughs against your sex that you let go, pant, then spasm.

Like earlier, he hovers over you—not a hint of fatigue on his face. “So pretty,” he whispers against your lips before he lets you taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is gentle, even as he quenches his undying thirst with your saliva.

“She’s nothing,” my ass.

When he pulls away, he keeps his forehead on yours. “Let’s get you cleaned up again, baby,” he mutters, and you just nod. Maybe this set up is alright… or perhaps—post nut clarity just hasn’t hit yet.

After wiping you down with another clean towel and letting you pee, he sets you back down on his bed, tucking you in so gently. “Good night, princess,” he whispers against your bruised lips followed by a barely there peck. “Good night, ‘Toru…” you respond, volume barely above a whisper.

—

The next day, you don’t wake up with a wicked hangover. Just a little throbbing pain in your noggin but that’s about it. Satoru’s just lying right beside you, sound asleep.

He looks so peaceful like this, without the weight of everybody’s gaze weighing down on everything he wants to be. You stare at him for a while, just enjoying the sweet serenity of being someone he trusts wholly for a fleeting moment.

Unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last.

After a few minutes, you hear shuffling outside the door and the distinct sound of Yuki yelling, “Where the hell is y/n, Zenin?!”

Toji raises his hands in mock surrender. “Chill, Yuks!” he says with a laugh, “She’s just with the Gojo kid, alright? Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Shoko, your “other” best friend (and in the same year as you), then follows from behind the blonde. She’s calmer than Yuki, but the two of them share the same mission: to get you out of here. “Pack it up, Toj’, she saw the video. Everyone did. This is gonna be another fucking fiasco, and we’d like to leave y/n out of it this time.”

“What video?” the large man questions.

Yuki facepalms out of pure frustration then grabs the green-eyed goblin by the collar. “Just fuckin’ show us where y/n is! I doubt you want to keep her here.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean??”

Shoko points at Toji’s chest as if he isn’t her upperclassman. “It means Jujutsu Phi and Alpha Kaisen are taking a break.”

“What?! That’s a long-standing alliance! You can’t break it just because of some fucking video I haven’t even seen yet!” He scrambles—not in panic but in something a little short of resentment that’s bubbling within him. Maybe, in reality, the anger’s directed towards him, and he’s just spewing bullshit at anyone who dares to cross him.

“She’s a junior officer, your frat—and most specially Gojo, bad-mouthed y/n. We have every right to cut ties right now,” the short brunette calmly explains.

Then, Yuki, the president adds with a lazy, annoyed grin, “Y’know, Toj’. Not because Fushiguro left you because you’re a manchild means you have to pull everyone down with you. So just take us to Gojo’s room, so we can take y/n home.”

Toji scoffs.

All the while, inside Satoru’s room, he finally stirs awake. With a deep sleepy voice, he asks, “What the hell is happening?” He doesn’t even look at you, just wraps an arm around your body and pulls you close.

“I don’t know,” you whisper back, “but I can hear arguing outside… I think I heard my name, ‘Toru. I don’t want another rumor…”

He immediately sits up at your tone, the comforter fallings off the planes of his toned body. “Rumor? What makes you think there is one?”

You fidget with your fingers, averting your gaze from Satoru’s hazy baby blues. His head’s absolutely pounding, but all he cares about right now are your worries. “I dunno—like last year it’s just like… a nagging feeling?” you try to explain, feeling a little paranoid as you speak.

He reaches out but then abruptly clutches his head with a hiss. “Are you okay?” you check upon him in concern, propping yourself on your knees to reach for his face.

A hint of red dusts his cheeks and ears at your actions, but you’re a little too worried to realize your position. Though, it’s kinda stupid. He’s blushing like he didn’t have his face on your pussy the night before. Sigh.

He chuckles softly, putting his large hands over your own, keeping it securely on his face. Silently, he’s hoping it covers the rosy tint that doesn’t really suit a “cool” guy like him. “I’m okay, baby, just a little—”

Just as he’s about to speak, the door flings open to reveal the voices behind the door. “Wrap it up, Gojo! You’ve been caught,” Toji says playfully even when there was nothing funny about the situation.

Yuki sighs, pushing Toji away. He stumbles back a step, but he doesn’t take it personally. “Babe, y/n, let’s go back to the sorority house,” the blonde says, ignoring the shirtless boy right next to you.

“But… what? What’s happening?” you ask in confusion.

“I think it’s better if we talk it out back at home, yeah? A few of the pledges cooked breakfast. You’re hungry, aren’t you, baby?” Shoko hums, trying to get you to leave on your on volition.

You glance between Satoru and your friends. Why the hell is all of this happening so early in the morning?! An awkward silence settles in the room as everyone waits to hear your decision. Your heart beats out of your chest, feeling a little pressured, which all the more boosts the ridiculous premonition of a conflict.

“C’mon, Sho,” you break the silence with a hesitant chuckle, “It’s not like someone died, right? Just say what you wanna say.”

The brunette sucks her teeth in. She knows that playing the leaked video here will be messy. But honestly, there was no way this situation will just blow away gently. That’s just life… probably.

After a soft sigh she hands you her phone from her pocket. “Play the video,” she instructs, and you do as you’re told.

The video plays, and at first, it’s just a video of two girls and a guy dancing, lip syncing, and having fun. Shuffling can be heard as well as a distinct mention of your name. Then, someone shouts in the background, "Get your head outta your asses and listen to me when I say I don't like her, okay? I don’t think she’s all that with her crooked teeth, painted face—uneven eyes! Just—whatever!" Satoru’s voice. It’s unmistakable. "She's nothing. We're nothing," he scoffs while the camera pans to him and the others who were part of the scene.

You can’t see their faces, but they go quiet for a second until phone picked up a short conversation after Satoru presumably left the area. “Was that about y/n?” a girl asked. “Yeah, duuuudeee! I thought he was in love with her or something,” another person replied.

“Oh, shit, I’m still—” and the video stops.

Everyone freezes, waiting for your reaction. First, you turn to who was supposedly your friend, “Did you really say that—about me?” you say calmly. There’s no need to burst out right now. You need to hear his side, right?

Wrong. You’re just in denial. Nothing can justify pointing out specific features on a person and saying that you hate it. It’s cruel. It’s shitty.

He takes a deep breath before looking you in the eyes. The truth is he said it. You already know it too. But shit. How is he just supposed to tell you?

“Princess, you know I didn’t mean it,” he says so softly that it almost chips away at the walls you just built around your heart.

“Did you or did you not, Satoru?!” you yell, and everyone’s taken aback. “Shit,” Toji mutters underneath his breath.

He turns to Toji with an annoyed glare while Yuki and Shoko look at him with nothing but disappointment and disgust. “I di—” smack! The harsh sound echoes in his room. No one dares to react as you erupt, standing up despite lacking pants.

“You fucking jerk!” you scream at the top of your lungs, not at all caring who hears. “That’s what pissed you off last night?! And you had the fucking audacity to makeout with me and eat my pussy?!!” you shout shamelessly.

The blonde and brunette turn to each other as if to say, “Do we stop her?” but they don’t. Not yet.

“What the hell is with you?! How the fuck are you so sweet behind closed doors, but you spew absolute bullshit when you’re out or when you’re drinking or when you’re with your friends? Is it about being fuckin’ cool?” you spit. “Sorority girls not cool enough for your high and mighty standards?”

“No—it’s not… it’s not you, baby—I swe-” he starts, but you cut him off, “Then what is it?!”

He gets up from his bed to hold your hands in his. The guys on the second floor start waking up and gathering inside the booming room—so nosy.

“I didn’t mean it, angel face… I promise…” he pleads with you, trying to leave a kiss on your cheek, but you swerve. You cross your arms over your chest, clearly done with the overgrown child standing in front of you.

With all his friends watching, he gets on his knees. “I’m sorry, baby. C’mon, forgive your sweet ‘Toru…” he begs. Even the frat brothers are shocked seeing Satoru so close to the ground.

It doesn’t matter though. All you can see is red. “You’re a bitch, Satoru Gojo,” you scoff, “A fucking bitch in heat. I hope you catch an STD!”

You shove everyone out of the way as you walk out with Yuki and Shoko following closely behind you. “Babe! Wait! Your pants!” Shoko hurries to give you her hoodie.

Satoru just sits there while the guys are also frozen.

It’s Suguru that speaks first after a moment of brooding. “Let’s get some breakfast, yeah? Nanamin and Haibara cooked,” he smiles gently.

Toji is the first to leave the suddenly chilly room. There’s an air of neutrality to him—and to some extent, you felt it too, but anger also sits inside you, knowing his jests fuel Satoru’s obnoxious need to be seen as “cool.”

Then again, Satoru’s a grown man, capable of making his own decisions and fixing his mindset. On the other hand (for the nth time in your mind), you know what it’s like to want to fit in. In your youth, you tried desperately to join cliques and hang around groups, and it never seemed to work. Though, you couldn’t imagine trying to keep up with those people through a fabricated persona like Satoru’s.

Moreover, you try to tell yourself that you’ll never truly understand how it is to even be a sliver of who Satoru is. He’s told you before about how heavy it feels to be the “best,” everyone expects no less than perfect from him. He’d tell you his deepest, darkest secrets with solemnity written on his face. Then, he’d kiss you and whisper how you’re the closest thing he has to a cure.

But maybe—he was just exploiting your kindness, told you stories he knows will make you stay. What makes you so angry is how it worked, and it still is working because you don’t know how to feel about the whole ordeal. A minute ago you were angry and ready to end his bloodline right then and there. Right now, however, you can’t help but feel guilty.

Empathy is a twisted curse, and you are its avatar.

—

Two weeks pass, and it seems like not much has changed. Only a few people have brought up the video, namely your family, some people from your sorority, and a few acquaintances. Though, you’ve seen an unbearable amount of sad ship edits of you and Satoru on your feed the past couple of days.

The conversation with your parents went as expected. The usual, “I knew that Gojo kid was trouble!” your father huffed at the dinner table last Friday, when you came to visit. “Honey, we should let her choose who she wants even if it ends up spectacularly failing,” your mother said, sarcasm dripping in her tone.

You only sighed while eating the supposedly delicious food that tastes bland atop the tongue you’re lightly biting.

“Princess,” your father started, “your mother and I do have someone to introduce to you though. We just waited until that boy goes.”

Your mother smiled, “He’s fairly handsome and strong, honey! He’s taking a business course in your university.” You wanted to say, “So does Satoru,” but you didn’t. That would’ve caused a whole ass scene, and you weren’t in the mood for drama.

“Who is he?” you asked. A little curious but more skeptical.

“Naoya Zen’in,” your father answered, “He’s Naobito’s son. Don’t you remember the person I mentioned about a month ago?”

“Oh, him…” you murmur.

“It would make me very happy if you agreed to meet him, my princess,” your father spoke with a honeyed tone. You felt bad rejecting him, and you saw the way mother glanced at you as if to tell you that it’s important for you to agree and behave.

“Okay, daddy,” you replied as if you were back to being their little girl, and perhaps that’s all you were to them. Maybe it just never gets better.

Now, you’re here with the dirty blond on an agonizingly awkward date probably a week after your father introduced him to you. This man hasn’t stopped talking about himself for an hour at this point! Even when he asks about you, he finds a way to circle back the conversation to himself. What the actual fuck?

“What course are you taking at the university?” he asks, trying to seem kind as he slices a piece of his steak then using a fork to put the cut in his mouth.

“Oh, I’m taking [course], I’m in my second year, actually,” you mention, thinking he spontaneously “grew” some manners.

“Cool, cool,” he says as if dismissing your answer entirely, “I’m in my first year, taking a BusFi course, if you know what that is.”

“Yeah, busi—”

“Business finance,” he interrupts because, of course.

“Yeah…” you awkwardly chime. Y’know what? You’re just glad he isn’t mentioning Satoru. Maybe his father instructed him not to. You don’t really care as long as he doesn’t mention he who must not be named.

For the rest of the night, you decide to just eat and sit pretty. You drink a bit of wine then curse your body that tonight’s the night it chooses to be a lightweight ‘cause after your second glass, you’re already a little sleepy and giggly.

“Naoya, ‘m a little warm…” you whisper, cutting him off while he was talking about something you can barely remember. You look up at him with a sultry gaze, but you’re clearly inebriated.

“Hm? Warm, huh?” he restates with a mischievous smirk creeping up his lips.

In less than a minute, he flags down a waiter for the bill and pays.

Everything that happens after is a little hazy and way too quick. You’re pulled into a hotel room—it’s nice, warm, like the luxurious beds Satoru accustomed you to.

He sits on the ottoman and you follow in suit. “You look so pretty,” he says, and you blush like you always do.

“Thank you,” you whisper like you haven’t heard the compliment a million times before—from a boy so crooked, you wish it’s him, who’s here before you, but maybe this Zen’in brat will do. In your parents’ eyes, he’s better than that “Gojo kid.”

You stand in between his legs, and he coaxes you to kneel. “You know what to do,” he muses, and you nod in response. Slowly, you undo his belt and pull the zipper of his pants. You’re soon faced with his growing bulge, only covered by his dark boxers.

From the outline, you can already deduce that it’s not larger than Satoru’s, so it should be easier, right? Maybe. As you pulled his underwear down, letting his member spring free, you give his mushroom tip kitten licks.

One, two, three. Slow and on the slit.

He groans. Beads of pre exit, and you taste it on your tongue—salty you remark to yourself. Two long veins protrude at his shaft as if to balance each other out.

“You’re—hah! So good at this…” he breathes as your hands make its way around his dick. You pump slowly—once, twice, just to tease the bully.

Your mouth, already accustomed to Satoru’s cock, takes Naoya’s with indifference. The curve isn’t the same, but really, what’s the difference? It’s just a boner that’ll soon soften.

You go slow at first, bobbing your head then swirling your tongue on the top. Gluck. Gluck. Gluck. The noise is pornographic as it echoes against the walls. What would your father think if he saw you right now? His beloved daughter, the one who he set up, sucking off his business partner’s son.

You giggle softly as he starts to make meeker sounds. “Fuck, where’d you learn this shit?” he rasps, trying to keep in a mewl. Ultimately, he fails, moaning into his hand whenever you pull back because you suck him off like it’s a straw. “Shit, so fuckin’ dirty, ma.”

His hips buck into you, almost using you like a damn pussy. And when he’s close, he holds your head down. Satoru rarely did that with you, but you don’t really mind. “Drink it all, okay? Don’t fuckin’ waste it or I’ll make you lick that shit on the floor.”

You try to babble, “I won’t, I won’t!” but the words drown in your throat as he releases his seed into your mouth. Warm and sticky—yet a little too salty for your liking. Like instructed, you drink it all up without breaking a sweat.

Out of the blue, he strikes your cheek softly. Your eyes widen, but he doesn’t care. “Good girl,” he grins, and somehow, you now feel like letting him into your life was a grave mistake.

The next day, you slip out of the barely made bed and collect your clothes. You're as quiet as a mouse while rummaging through the blurry floors. It's crazy how hungover you are.

On the bed, Naoya hardly stirs even when you accidentally bump your big toe on a corner. You have half the mind to just scream!

Fortunately, you were succesful enough with gathering your items.

You hurriedly enter the elevator, looking as disheveled as ever and not even wearing your heels yet. Upon reaching the ground floor, you put on your shoes and exit the facility to hail a cab.

"To the university please, greek row," you say while handing the driver a few hundred yen. He only nods and speeds through the streets like he lives only for himself.

Once you reach the campus gates, you show security your student ID, so they'll let the cab in. The guard nods upon seeing your face, already familiar with who you are. You smile, waving politely.

You're immediately greeted by Shokko when you arrive, so you thank the older man and hop out of the vehicle. "Babe!" she exclaims, throwing her arms around you. "Everyone's been calling you for hours."

"You said you were going on a date with Naoya, and we all got scared when we didn't see you home the next day! Like literally!" she says. All the while, inspecting your body for any signs that you were mistreated—because duh! It's fucking Naoya Zenin. You can never be too sure around him.

"Did he hurt you?" the short-haired brunette continued to ask as the two of you enter the house. "DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!" she questions as if that's the worst thing you could've ever done (which maybe... she's right about).

"W-Well yeah? Kind of..." you answer. "But like! It wasn't that good."

"Oh my god!" Yuki screams from the kitchen. "You slept with him?!"

You sigh. Well, the whole sorority now knows you slept with a notorious fuck boy. It can't get any worse than the scandals you had with Satoru though, so you don't really mind anymore. Still, this situation deserves a disappointed sigh more directed at yourself than anyone else.

—

Things for the blue-eyed piece of shit wasn’t any better. Satoru hates how Naoya’s been around you recently. It’s uncanny. You? Pretty, kind, and smart with that dirtbag excuse of a person? Un-fucking-believable. To be fair, he was a pretty shitty person around you, so he guesses Naoya’s right up your alley.

His mind’s a fucking minefield of memories of you.

Satoru’s been reflecting—trying to improve, but he did pick up some old habits he told you he left in the past—namely smoking. It started a few days after Toji caught wind of the whole situation regarding you and his cousin. After hearing the news, Satoru just spiraled.

He grabbed a red pack for the first time in months, grumbling under his breath as he walked up the flights of stairs.

“Hm, you haven’t taken a hit in a while,” Suguru chuckled as Satoru approached him on the balcony.

“‘Guess I like the smell again,” Satoru fibbed as he dragged a long puff.

“You don’t have to lie y’know, it’s just us,” the raven-haired hunk said, “We both know you quit ‘cause the smoke makes her cough.”

The sky-eyed boy still didn’t let up, “So? It could’ve just coincided.”

His friend laughed again, “Y’know, Satoru, you’re really fuckin’ smart, but you can’t seem to understand that you’ll lose her if you don’t stop playing around.”

“Why? ‘Cause you’ll go after her?” Satoru challenged.

“I might,” is all Suguru said before extinguishing the flame of his own cigarette on an ashtray nearby.

Satoru inhaled, deep. He let the smoke fill his lungs as if it kept him alive and sane. It was at that moment he decided that when the time comes, he’ll swoop in and take you back. All he needs is a chance and for Suguru and Naoya to not notice it.

—

Since that night, Naoya’s been hovering around you on campus. You guess you like him. He’s nice for the most part, but he’s utterly—boring and to some extent, misogynistic. He comments on your clothes, makeup, and even the stuff you like. Satoru never did that! If anything, he was waaaayyyy too dirty about it.

It really is a "pick your poison" situation.

Ring! Finally, your final class for this hectic week’s done. You can relax, lay down and— “Hey, babe, let’s go to that convenience store by the ramen shop downtown.” Suddenly, an arm is around you before you can even take three steps out the door. It weighs you down more so than your books already are. Naoya’s been getting more touchy in public, but it always made you so uncomfortable. You avoided his advances like the plague. You sucked his dick ONCE, and now he’s acting like you’re married.

He doesn’t make you feel safe like Satoru did. Yeah, he’s big, bad, and strong, but Satoru was just—everything. If anything, Naoya Zenin made you feel like there's always a target on your back.

He doesn’t even offer to carry your things—not even some textbooks or your ipad at the very least. “I dunno, Nao… I’m pretty tired… and um. I told you, stop calling me babe. People are going to think you’re my boyfriend,” you all but whisper.

“So? It’s not like you’re still with Gojo,” he scoffs.

“He wasn’t my boyfriend.”

“Sure.”

“I just don’t want to go,” you say, pleading clear in your tone.

“Why not? It’s just a convenience store run. Then we can eat at the ramen shop before or after, yeah?”

You just sigh, knowing he’ll just keep yapping, “Okay… let me just leave my books in my locker.”

—

At the store, he’s a little more tame yet still annoying and persistent while looking through the selection of snacks and other things. At the very least, he's no longer trying to grope you anymore. “Come on, y/n… give me a kiss… I took you all the way here, didn’t I?” He says while grabbing your waist. “Let go, Naoya.. plus, you were the one that wanted to go,” you whisper, not wanting to cause a scene. You’re quite literally in line and barely anyone’s making a peep. This is just embarrassing.

“But, princess…” Princess? Only Satoru and your father calls you that nickname… it feels weird to hear it from someone else.

Behind one of the aisles, unbeknownst to you, Satoru’s listening in. It just so happens that he got here first, looking through the selection of the new collaboration candies! But alas, fate had been cruel to him and slapped his biggest mistake right in his face.

“I really don’t want to, Nao'…” you try to reason, but he only pulls you closer to his side ('guess you spoke too soon).

You lightly push him off. “Stop,” you mutter.

“Nah, don’t you wanna be held? I’m sure you miss it,” he snickers, and your expression turns sour. You step out of line and scoff, “Naoya! I said let go!”

Instantly, his playful demeanor shifts to something possessive—controlling. He holds your arm and drags you away to a blind spot in the corner. “Really? You want me to let go?” he mumbles in your ear like a threat.

“She said let go, asshole,” a familiar voice comes from behind Naoya. The jerk turns, but immediately, he catches a fist on the side of his face, and you shriek.

“You fucking—“ the disoriented guy immediately gathers himself to strike back, and you make out the other person to be Satoru.

You state his name in confusion and Naoya takes it as an opening as the taller man turns to you. Unfortunately for him, Satoru dodges and takes the fight outside, dragging the petulant boy by the collar.

You look over to the people who just witnesed the conflict arise and apologize for the two men’s delinquent behavior, leaving the items you were supposed to but at the counter. You then run outside the store before one of them commits murder.

Outside, they’re hitting each other like they’re in an octagon. It’s brash, juvenile—overall fucking stupid.

“If the both of you don’t fucking stop, I’m calling the cops!” you yell.

Satoru pushes Naoya to the ground and stops hitting. Naoya looks at you, somehow still cocky as ever. “Bullshit, you wouldn’t,” he spits.

“Scram, Naoya,” Satoru deadpans, but Naoya turns to you to see what you’d decide. You look away from the dirty blond, silently choosing your white knight, Satoru.

He stomps as he walks away—what a fucking joke. How were these men able to make it past the sixth grade? Seriously? The immaturity is astounding.

Satoru doesn’t move from his place and neither do you. Honestly, what is there to say? “Hey, I’m sorry for blurting out your deepest insecurities that you’ve only told me and no one else!” Be so for real right now.

“Let’s go inside?” he breaks the silence, and you just nod. Is this what shell shock feels like?

You beside him as you both enter the establishment. His lip bleeding and a gash is present on his cheek. You know you have to patch him up. So for the first time in a while, you hold his hand, dragging him to the small medical supplies aisle. Silently, you grab Betadine, cotton, and bandaids then a lukewarm water bottle.

Like always, Satoru pays for what you got. Then, you make him sit on the curb outside the convenience store. You stand in between his legs as you start cleaning his wounds with the water. Then, dabbing on Betadine generously, except for the cut on his lip, just a bit on the skin. Lastly, you put the bandaid on gently, careful as to not place the sticky area on any wounded part.

After the process, he hugs your thighs to the side of his face without warning. “I’m sorry, y/n. Please forgive me,” he murmurs.

You’re absolutely stunned, “…Satoru?”

Hot tears cascade down your legs. To him, there is nothing better in his godforsaken life than being close to you.

He sniffles, “Forgive me. Please, y/n. Please—say you forgive me.”

“What is there to forgive?”

“I’ve already told everyone that I didn’t mean it. I told them that I’m an asshole and that I can’t spend another minute without you because—because I love you,” He confesses.

“No you don’t,” you respond too quickly. Cold, practiced, like you knew it was a prank (it’s not) before he even spoke. Then, you add, “You can’t love someone and say all that, and even if I do fucking love you, I don’t know if I can ever stop thinking about what you said.” You avert your gaze.

“Angel, please, I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything…” he throws onto the cool air, where no warmth can be palpable. “Just let me stay close,” he adds quietly.

There’s a brief moment of silence—perhaps clarity. Maybe it’s acceptance or something less comforting, but your anger or whatever you felt towards this whole kerfuffle shifts.

You hold his head to make him look up. His expression—absolutely wrecked. You lean down to kiss his temple, and all he could do is nuzzle. Nuzzle into your warm skin that once accepted his asshole self, he’s hoping this is forgiveness.

“We should stay as friends,” you whisper against his pale skin, still leaning down. His features are illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight—it’s poetic, really. How he’s prettier at night when it’s quiet and barely anyone can see. Maybe you just think it’s better this way because without everyone else, he’s just yours.

His heart shatters, but he doesn’t overreact, “Friends, right. Yeah…” he tries to seem cool about it.

You don’t know if you’re ready to fully accept the gravity of the situation, but you still somewhat accept his teary apology. “Just friends,” you mirror his words.

You’ve been bullied and made fun of, so it wasn’t really new, but coming from Satoru, it all felt worse. He didn’t just call you names. Satoru took your insecurities and announced them to the world. Someone who could just throw everything away and do that—even if intoxicated, just isn’t the kind of man you’d want to spend your whole life with.

Uncomfortable silence settles outside the convenience store after the confrontation, and neither of you want to break it. But you know Satoru, he’s restless, so you outlast him. “Take me with you,” he begs, unable to look into your eyes.

“To the soro—?”

“Yes,” he interjects.

“And what if Utahime crucifies you?” you scoff playfully, trying to fix the dampened mood with your dry tone.

“Let her. I deserve it, don’t I?” he pouts, hugging your thighs tighter as you fully adjust yourself up. You push his face away, laughing at his desperation. It’s mean, but you can’t help but love the power you hold over the hunk everyone wants. He takes it all without complaint.

“If you need to be mean, be mean to me, baby,” he smiles through tear-stricken cheeks that you caress away with your thumbs. Your smile fades, and he’s a little confused.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a sniffle, but you don’t have an answer. Seeing him sad doesn’t make you feel good or better—if anything, it makes you feel like shit.

“Nothing, Satoru…” you smile, and it barely reaches your eyes. He mimics your expression, and it’s weird yet comforting.

The breeze of the night is cold and piercing as the two of you make your way to the sorority house. Satoru tries to hover close to you, but you discretely try to move away. Though, you’re clearly trembling as the first few drops of the holiday spirit fell on top of both your heads. He’s already carrying the bag you didn’t leave in your locker—and you’re grateful he took it.

Honestly, despite the whole ordeal earlier, a part of you still thinks he’s trying to get into your pants—or under your skirt. Though, you’re really trying to let go of the ugly thought, trying to start a fresh rapport with the notorious playboy.

Your body continues to shake under the first winter breeze, and Satoru can no longer take it. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you to his side without a word. Yeah, the action is verbatim of Naoya’s, but this time, you don’t swerve. Even without saying it, you’re thankful for his warmth—although, maybe the redness of your face already says too much.

Satoru sees the hue and smiles slyly to himself. He’s going to get you back. He has to.

—

“Finally,” you pant softly as you finally reach your destination: the sorority house! Satoru laughs at your reactions as you walk with him side by side.

You start climbing up the porch when there’s a sudden gnawing feeling that’s rising up your chest. And a realization hits just before you turn the doorknob. Would your peers think of you as stupid or would they pity you for letting him back in? You pause.

To be honest, you don’t really want to know.

Behind the door, you hear chattering, a blender whirring, and footsteps. The girls are awake, obviously. Why wouldn’t they be? It’s only 7PM. But fuck, you really don’t want to see the disappointment on Yuki and Shoko’s faces when you walk in. You’re sure they’re there because you can hear them arguing about who gets control of the TV remote.

“Can we go through the back?” you ask him with a pleading look on your face as you look to meet his baby blues.

“Tryna sneak me in?” he snickers, but you deadpan in return, “Yeah, something like that.”

He isn’t taken aback. He gets it. Plussss, he knows that guys aren’t usually allowed to enter the “feminine sanctuary” as your senior, Utahime, playfully cals it. “Let’s be stealthy then,” he smirks.

The two of you keep your heads low as you sneak around the garden to get to the back door. Thankfully, through the window, you see that no one’s in the laundry area, so you just waltz in with Satoru.

Now, the problem is going upstairs.

You look around, trying to gauge where everyone is like some kind of psychic or otherworldly being able to sense seismic waves. “What the hell are you doing?” Satoru whispers, but you shush him abruptly.

In your head, you’re mapping out the best route to take. From the sounds, you can deduce that the TV is turned on to some movie starring Andy Samberg, which means Shoko and Yuki reached an agreement on who gets to choose tonight’s feature. Since the screen faces away from the stairs, the two women will not be able to see you. Then, you hear two doors shutting from above, signaling that some other occupants have retreated to their personal quarters—you assume it’s Utahime and Mei. Since it’s Thursday, you assume the pledges are just about to come home from their last class. It really pays to be observant, huh?

“Okay, I have a plan. Just follow me, okay?” you turn to Satoru to say, and he nods, “Okay, pretty girl.” Fuck him and his charm. You’re blushing, and it’s not even cute. It’s the tint from someone who walked a few miles and an omega in heat. Shitty combo? You think so. He giggles like a schoolgirl at your flushed expression probably thinking something along the lines of, “God, I’m glad I’m not a fuckin’ uggo.” And in your head, you jest.

You hold his wrist to lead him in, but he chooses to intertwine his fingers with yours. At this point, you don’t argue, and just try to stick to your plan. Theoretically, it should work.

But unfortunately, you’re no omniscient omnipotent deity. Just as soon as you make your way out of the laundry area and into the connecting kitchen, you’re met with a hungry, now, shocked Shoko. “Hey…” you awkwardly cut through the perpetual staring contest.

“Hey…” Shoko awkwardly replies while eyeing Satoru up and down then turning her gaze to you. She then greets again, “Hi…”

Silence.

“Your… friend is back,” she says like it’s a betrayal to everything she’s ever known.

“Yeah—yes. Yes, he is…” you straighten up and clear your throat. “We’re just friends.”

“And you’re sneaking him in?” You nod in response. Your head whips to Satoru, but he just looks back at you. Useless. Well, clearly, the brunette is just justifiably skeptical. Last time you let him into your life again, he still decided to act like you were unimportant. What poppycock is this?!

You’re ready for a barrage of warnings or a huge conflict, but it never comes. Instead, she shrugs and sighs, “Babe, it’s your pussy, ‘can’t really dictate what you do with it. Just scream bloody murder, and I’ll throw him out.”

Her words make you turn unbelievably… elated?

“T—Thanks?” you reply in confusion, hurriedly dragging the large man upstairs to avoid any other awkward interaction with a sister.

—

You shut the door to your room and lock it, double checking by turning the knob once. “No one’s going to just barge in to watch us, y’know?” Satoru jokes, but you ignore him.

He’s about to sit on your bed when you call his name like a thunderclap, “Satoru!” You glare at the snowy-locked manchild as he stands back up before your plush mattress. “Wash up and change your clothes first. Don’t use your outside clothes on my bed,” you huff.

“Right, right, the angel’s laws!” he chides as you rummage through a drawer of his stuff, handing him a change of, well, everything—even boxers! You might as well have been living together before all this happened.

“Y’know, it’s much more efficient to shower together—to lessen droughts ‘n’ all,” he starts. “Since when did you care about efficiency?” you raise an eyebrow at his crystal clear ploy.

“Since I fucked up, so now, I’m very eager to show my princess how sorry her ‘Toru is,” he pouts, feigning melancholy as he moves to stand behind you.

But once you make your hesitance known, the sultry tone he used with practiced ease falters. “I dunno, Satoru… I don’t think we should have sex,” you admit, averting your gaze as if taboo topics exist between the two of you.

He laughs lightly, and you’re sure there’s no hidden truth. “It’s okay, baby. I get it, just had to shoot my shot, y’know?” he says with that boyish grin plastered on his perfect face.

Curse him.

Before he could reach your small private bathroom, you speak, “But uh—we can shower together… if you’re alright with just… coexisting?” Maybe you should’ve just let the words die down in your throat.

Lord, please let the ground just swallow you whole.

Satoru doesn’t deserve to still be treated so nicely—everyone knows and thinks the same, but a part of you still yearns for his presence. He’s Satoru Gojo—your Satoru Gojo.

“Mhm, of course, angel,” He speaks, voice sounding tired but hopelessly lovestruck.

You just smiled sweetly. Was it still worth it to accept him into your heart? You’ve been warned before that this was the kind of person he is and always be. Now that it’s happened, would it be stupid for you to give him another chance?

Fuck, you know it is…

Still, you let him take you away, trailing behind him as you both enter the bathroom. It’s a little cramped since it’s only made for one, but you make do. He helps you undress like he always does, and you help him shed like you always do.

The air feels light even if neither of you dare to make a sound.

Water cascades on your skin and his. It falls to the ground rapidly, not an obstacle in its path. That is until Satoru decides to place his hand above your hip, which allows the water to swerve due to the curve of his palm and onto the fat of your ass.

You let his hand stay, not minding the contact. He’s not pushing further, not being annoying, so who were you to complain, no? He uses the same soap as you do when you finish siding it over the planes of your skin. He wishes to himself that he has the option of not showering for a couple days after this just to let your scent linger on him. What a weirdo. He even snickers aloud, which just makes him look crazy because you can’t hear his nasty thoughts.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you say without looking back.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby, I’m sorry,” he replies.

“Promise?” you ask, and he spins you around. A childish smirk tugs on the corner of his lips, “Promise,” he repeats, intertwining his pinky with yours.

In a flash, his gaze falls on your chest then back up at your face. Your perky tits are staring right at him! It would be rude to ignore his girls.

“Perv,” you mutter playfully, pulling away from his finger and turning back around. “I’ll just stare lower then,” he jokes.

Then, you playfully throw your soap at him. “If you’re gonna stare, at least be helpful,” you spit, telling him to help you wash. And he does so—with gusto even!

The steamy air in the bathroom feels light, and you let your worries fade. “This is nice,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

You smile, genuine as you turn your head to the side to glance toward the bare boy. “It is,” you utter.

After you rinse and wring yourself dry, Satoru can’t help but hold you close with your back to his chest, spooning you—still naked yet no longer wet, afraid to lose what he loves once again. “I really am sorry, baby…”

“I know…” you reply, “I know, Satoru.”

Satoru hides himself on the crook of your neck as if embarrassed. And truly, he is. He’s ashamed that it took him so long to realize that he’s got it good, being by your side.

He keeps apologizing while hot tears run down his face and onto your skin like they’re racing to be on the mounds of your chest. “I’m sorry,” he says. You only reply in a quieter tone, “I know, Satoru…”

The intimacy of being held skin-to-skin… god, it’s unmatched. But a part of you wishes you felt for another man—someone who won’t break your heart even if other’s see him as less of a superior being because of it. Alas, your body betrays you. Without warning, you limp against him, and he catches you.

Wordlessly, he lays you on your bed, climbing on top of your form while kissing your warmth. And his lips—they leave goosebumps in their wake.

—

Fast forward to the night before Christmas break, the whole conflict basically started around a month or two ago, and about a week since you and Satoru “made up.” Toji’s apologized for the shit he said, and he even made up with Fushiguro, who trying things out with again. You’re happy for them, really! But you’re just a little bitter that they got the happy ending while you’re stuck next to Satoru, semi-sulking because he got back into smoking.

Jujutsu Phi and Alpha Kaisen are currently throwing a joint Winter Wonderland Christmas Party. The houses—adjacent to each other are decorated with holiday streamers, cut out snowflakes, and a ton of edible glitter. Blue sparkles and silver sequins shimmered on the doorway and the roof as real snowflakes fell atop.

On the couch in the living room is where you’re sat next to him. “Seriously, ‘Toru?” you whine and pout upon seeing him take a cigarette from someone that offered.

“C’mon, baby, just tonight, okay?“ he rasps, “Just got back into it when we weren’t talking.” He takes out a lighter, the one you thought he threw away months ago, and burns the end of the stick.

You huff at his answer, excusing yourself from the area. “Whatever, I’m gonna go get drinks,” you tell him while he just shoots you a wink. “Okay, angel face, get me something fruity, m’kay?”

In return, you rolls your eyes, not bothering with a verbal response. “What’s wrong between you guys?” Choso asks from across the den.

Satoru only shrugs, “Nothing, she’s probably just in a bad mood.” He doesn’t take it seriously—doesn’t read into it too much, but the chocolate-haired hunk in front of him senses another brewing scandal afoot.

Still, Choso just watches as you make your way to the kitchen like you’d break if he says something out of place—if he makes it known that he can perceive your emotions through your face. Additionally, It’s clear that the people who were seated by you, could sense your growing frustration and Satoru’s dismissive (rather, his normal) attitude. Those who admired him feigned kindness, and everyone in between acted indifferent.

Typical.

—

A few moments later, Suguru, enters the kitchen, walking over to you by the counter, where you’ve been pretending to pour yourself a drink for almost ten minutes.

“Satoru’s wondering where you are, y’know..” Suguru speaks as he stands next to you, actually pouring alcohol into his cup with another bottle

“I know,” you deadpan despite not wanting to sound too harsh.

Suguru chuckles at your tone, “Are you high or something?”

“No, I don’t do those stuff,” you reply a little more calmly.

“Oh? Hm.. ‘guess you really are a good girl then,” the raven-haired hunk says as he takes a massive swig of his drink.

You pout at his words, finally putting alcohol in your cup only to take a small sip.

He laughs, “From the amount you put, I thought you’d down it all. And ‘cause Satoru’s being an ass.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “I mean, I thought you’d drown your sorrows in alcohol or something. No one would blame ya, y’know?”

“Well, Satoru’s not really being him right now, so I don’t really feel safe drinking my mind away,” you scoff.

“Why does it have to be Satoru?”

“What?” you repeat.

“Why lean on Satoru when you can lean on me?” he says with brazen confidence.

You snort, “Aren’t you supposed to be his actual best friend?”

That comment should’ve bothered him, but it doesn’t. “Aren’t you supposed to be his, quote, girlfriend?” he doubles down.

“Touche,” you mutter, “Is that all you came here for? Flirt with me but because it’s met with rejection, you kick me while I’m down?”

He laughs, leaning back on the counter with his hands in his pockets. “Nah, just came here for a drink, you being here was just a bonus, angel,” he says while amethyst eyes peer at you through foxy slits.

Well, it can’t hurt to just strike up a conversation, right? Right! If he can indulge in a bad habit, then you can make this small, somewhat bad, decision. “How long have you been friends with Satoru?” You ask.

“Long enough,” he replies lazily while stepping right next to you to mix himself a different drink.

“Come on, that isn’t much of an answer…” You whine to which he chuckles.

“Okay, yeah, sorry, sweetheart.” Why was his voice so calming? So grounding.. “We met when we were in high school with Shoko, Nanami, and Yu. ‘Guess you can say we all really grew up together,” he says.

“Woah! That’s cool!” you say with a smile. “Has he uh… always been like that?”

“Like an asshole? yeah, but it wasn’t always that bad,” he scoffs with a chuckle that he’s trying to stifle. “He really tried to keep it in for you though.”

“Doesn’t feel like it…” you respond, your happy expression slightly faltering.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” you let out with a soft smile. “How was he in high school… aside from the whole asshole thing.”

Suguru finishes mixing his concoction and brings it to his nose before answering your query, “Still the same, really. He’s fun, light, someone you’re glad to be around. But he’s always had a bad habit of putting the world on his shoulders then pushing permanence away by filling his world with temporary strangers.”

“Then why am I at arm’s reach?” you question as if Suguru was omniscient.

He takes a deep breath, and you feel the subtle shift. “He needs permanence to feel human, but when it’s too much, he’ll make himself temporary. It’s a cycle, and honestly, Shoko and I don’t understand why or how you still stay.”

“Stupidity and a whole lot of romantic loneliness, I guess,” you laugh bitterly. When his eyebrows furrow, you immediately try and change the topic, “What did you mix?”

“Oh, um,” he was just about to acknowledge what you said, but then you sprung a tangent. Maybe you didn’t want to talk about Satoru anymore, which is fine, he guesses. “Just some fruity syrups and straight vodka. It’s a little strong, but my flight home isn’t until the morning after tomorrow.”

“Can I try?”

For a moment, he’s taken aback in a non-negative way. Just shocked since you’re not all that close. Still, he hands you his solo cup, “Sure, take a sip first. Don’t want ya throwing up, pretty girl,” he winks.

—

Back with Satoru, the people around him are now playing spin the bottle, and he refused to play even when two girls started pleading!

He just notices that Suguru isn’t in his seat anymore and that you haven’t gone back in so long. Despite the pretty women on either side of him right now, he rises and extinguishes his second cigarette on the ashtray above the mahogany coffee table.

“Gojo-senpai!” the two whine, but he doesn’t even give them the time of day.

He stomps towards the kitchen, where you’re now sitting on the counter next to Suguru, once again, drunk out of your mind (you really need to go sober at this point), leaning on him while he’s telling you a long story from his childhood.

“Baby, I didn’t know you were talking to Suguru,” Satoru says as he climbs on the marble, sitting on your other side.

You glance to the side, a hazy view of snowy locks blocked your vision of the raging sea of dancing bodies. “Satoru?” you croak. “Yes, angel face, Satoru,” he chimes, giving the apple of your cheek a sweet kiss. You giggle and lean on Satoru’s body instead, squished between the two men.

Suguru’s amethyst gaze fall on Satoru’s baby blues—stare full of annoyance. “What’s wrong, Suguru?” the taller man smirks.

“Just surprised you’re here so soon,” he chuckles, relaxing his body against the cool counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Satoru says, wrapping an arm around you, securing your place by his side.

“It means,” Suguru sighs, “You’re only here when someone’s about to sweep her off her feet because you’re afraid that she’ll start to realize how shitty of a man you really are.”

Satoru stays silent.

Suguru breathes out then holds a hand out to caress the side of your face gently—too tender for it not to mean a thing. You look him in the eyes, the usually intimidating glint is now lavender for you. He leans in, leaving a barely there peck on your alcohol-stained lips.

“Run to me when you leave him,” he whispers before pushing himself off and walking out.

You’re dumbfounded by what just happened. You sit up and turn to Satoru as if asking for help with your hazy mind.

“Princess, you’re blushing,” he coos, “D’ya like Suguru more than me now?”

“N—No… he’s just nice…” you murmur in response.

“So you like nice?”

“Are you saying you’re not nice, ‘Toru?”

He pauses. “What if I am saying that?” he challenges.

Your eyebrows furrow as you search for a hint of mischief in his eyes, something that’ll tell you that he’s just your silly Satoru, but there is none. And quickly, self-preservation takes over. “Please don’t be mean to me…” you plead.

“I dunno… you seemed so close to Suguru earlier.”

“We were just talking,” you reply.

He grabs your face a little aggressively, “Oh? Then why’d he kiss you before leaving? Were you provoking him?” How he missed tormenting his princess. The way your nose curls in disgust is just toe-curlingly adorable. He knows his best friend has a HUGE crush on you, but he’ll still lead you to believe that it’s your fault.

“No—”

“Then why were you leaning on him before I walked in?” he questions in an accusatory manner.

“He was just telling me a story from his childhood…”

“I can tell you stories too,” he immediately retorts.

“You were too busy smoking,” you huff.

Then, he slumps a little, and his demeanor shifts to something terrifyingly playful. “I’m never too busy for you, angel face. And I said it’s a one-time thing, didn’t I? If you needed company, all you had to do was ask,” he smiles as he grounds his feet to stand in between your legs, effectively trapping you against the, now, freezing marble.

“Aw? Are you shy?” he mocks while poking your cheek. “I suppose I’m into meek little girls as well,” he shrugs.

You try to push him off, but he doesn’t budge. “That sounds so wrong, Satoru,” you whine, looking away.

“What does, baby?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Honesty isn’t wrong, no? You’re meek, little, and a girl—and me? I’m into that bullshit,” he says gruffly as he grabs you by the chin, almost squeezing your cheeks into your mouth.

“Can you do the same for me?”

“Same what?” you try to say, though, a little slurred, but it’s not due to how intoxicated you must be from Suguru’s tropical mix.

“Describe me like I did with you,” he grins—boyish yet almost villain-like.

“What games are you playing, Satoru?” you peer, kicking him away with a force not enough to leave a bruise. His smirk only grows; it’s fucking uncanny yet undeniably arousing. He knows the buttons to push, and you hate yourself for it.

“Why, pretty? You wanna play aggressive now?”

“What? No—what? Let go!” you yell and thrash against the brute as he lifts you up into his arms. “Satoru, what the hell?!” You immediately sober up at his actions, continuing to be difficult as he expertly maneuvers the way through the sea of people.

Of course, he brings you to his room, slamming the door with his foot then dropping you on the bed as if it wouldn’t grant you the chance to escape.

You immediately roll over and land on your feet. You speed to the door, but it’s no use. He’s faster, and he moves as if he’s already planned out everything that he’ll do down to how you’ll react.

He wraps his arms around you, lifting your body above the ground. “Satoru! You’re scaring me!” you finally sob instead of fight.

Like a switch flipped, his demeanor shifts in ab instant. From eerily intimidating to the puppy dog boyfriend from the time he was pleading for your attention. “Scare you? No, no, no, baby… I just want you to stay…” he mewls, setting you down, yet not letting go.

You shake your head, trying to push him away as he desperately tightens his grip while keeping your head under his chin. “You’ll just be rough again! I don’t want to do that, ‘Toru!” you shriek.

If there weren’t a party going on downstairs, the whole Greek row would’ve heard your screams.

“Shit—no! I promise, I won’t be…” he murmurs softly in your ear as he feels your body start to tremble out of fatigue. He runs his palm over your back gently, trying to soothe you.

“You’re lying…” your voice turns shaky as you no longer prevent the tears from falling.

“Pretty girl…” he coos before carrying you back onto the bed, setting you down gently and wiping the tears on your face with his thumbs—now, hovering over you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry—I don’t know what came over me… don’t cry, please…”

“You’re making it worse,” he adds.

“Worse?” you question through sniffles, gripping onto his sheets because of anxiety.

“I want you so bad, princess… can’t you see? So fuckin’ bad…” he rasps while guiding your smaller hand to his annoyingly massive bulge, “And a part of me feels so bad when you cry, but I really just want to bottom out in your mouth.”

For a moment, you’re silent, afraid of doing—anything as he allows you to palm him.

“I’m trying to be good for you, baby. I really am, but can you be good for me tonight? Please, sweet girl?” he groans while cradling your head in his other palm then resting his forehead on your own.

It’s nauseating, how intimate it is. From pain to confusion to lust to something not even latin could quite describe… it’s all so tiring, and it’s just too easy to fall into his arms.

Your heart aches at the thought of rejecting him. It always does. It’s like you’d rather be hurt near him than be happy far from. His air of familiarity is comfort, and to him, your air of sweetness is lust wrapped in joy. “O—Okay, ‘Toru,” you reply.

In your ear, he whispers, “Thank you, angel,” while peppering pecks on your face. “Thank you. Thank you, baby girl… you’re so sweet to your ‘Toru…”

He starts with the usual, making out with your lips and skin until you’re bruising all over. Well, honestly, it’s only a few spots, but still! Visible hickeys suck!

As expected, Satoru’s a little less patient tonight. He undresses you and himself simultaneously, as if he’s wishing to spontaneously grow two more arms just for the efficiency of it all during sex.

Then, he rips your underwear off—bra and panties, which has you almost writhing in shock. “Satoru!” you huff while holding onto his beefy biceps. “You said you’d be gentle!”

“I am though, sweets?” he says in confusion, “Is this not gentle enough?”

“Ripping off my panties is not gentle…” you whine.

He pouts, “I’ll buy you a new set, I promise…”

“Three sets,” you childishly reply, trying to calm your jittery heart.

He chuckles, “Okay, angel face, three new sets.”

Prepping your pussy isn’t all that hard, especially since you’re embarrassingly dripping right now. He’s sure that his dick could slide right in, but he, at least, wants to do a few things right.

He inserts a few fingers first, curling and scissoring against your sweet g-spot. “So pretty, he compliments, and you’re back arches every time. He’s hits each sensitive area like there’s a clearly marked target in his mind. Utterly unbelievable.

You grip his sheets so tightly that your fists start to turn white. “Satoru!” you mewl, drooling in your mouth and your lower lips. His mouth is occupied on one of your tits while his other hand rolls a nipple against the lengthy appendages.

“Shit—!” you shriek as you cum, and he immediately dives down to taste your sweet juice on his tongue—still better than any concoction Suguru can make up.

He pulls the three fingers out, and you make a porno hum. It’s cute. He loves it when you try not to make “gross” sounds. “Open your mouth, baby,” he instructs.

You follow, letting your tongue out like you know he wants. “Good girl,” he whispers with a chuckle, placing his fingers on your pretty pink appendage, “Suck,” he commands.

“Tastes good, no?” You nod your head in response.

He chuckles, low, “You think you’re ready now, baby? Ya look like you’re clenching on nothing.” He laughs while removing his fingers from your mouth. You dribble a little and he leans down to lick it. He can’t get enough of whatever he can taste from you. You’re sure that if you’d let him, he’d eat your ass.

“Satoru! You can’t just do that…” you scold.

“Why not? I’m sure if you were in my shoes, you’d want to do it too,” he jokes.

“Just—fuck me already…” you murmur the last few words, barely audible, but he catches it.

“What? I can’t hear you if you’re too quiet, pretty,” he pretends.

“Satoru! You know you heard me,” you pout.

“Nah, I don’t think so princess,” he shrugs.

You turn away, blushing furiously, knowing he won’t let you have what you want until you give in. “Please… just fuck me…” you whisper a little bit louder.

He snickers, “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shake your head. Then, you finally notice his cock, dripping in pre and standing proud. Your eyes widen—the same reaction you have every time. For the nth time tonight, he laughs, “Still scared, seriously, baby?”

“Well… if you were in my shoes,” you mimic his words from earlier, “You’d be scared too, ‘Toru.”

“Point taken,” he says, but you know he’s brushing off your statement. “Counter point, you always love it. Don’t ya? My little cockslut,” he smiles while reaching for a condom on the shelf above his headboard.

You help him put the rubber on, feeling filthy as your skin touches his. “You make it sound so dirty,” you complain as you feel his tip on the edge of your folds. He’s only coating the shaft in your slick, but every time it hits your clit, you whimper.

“But it is dirty, isn’t it?” he hums in your ear as his dick starts to protrude through your gummy walls. It’s slow at first. He doesn’t want to hurt you, of course.

He may be an ass, but he isn’t a monster (kinda).

When he’s halfway in, he pauses.

“Is that it…?” you nervously ask.

“Only half,” he tells you gently while scratching your head to help you relax.

“So full…” you murmur. “It can’t just be half, ‘Toru… you’re lying…” you accuse the large man.

He chortles, “I’m not! I swear! Maybe it’s because we haven’t done it in a while, princess.” He continues to pet your hair. “C’mon, relax f’me. It’ll start to hurt if you tense up.”

You take deep breaths at calculated intervals, evening it out. He gives your neck a few kisses as if to praise your actions.

After a few minutes of holding himself back, Satoru finally bottoms out. It’s like you can feel him in your cervix. “It’s like a little baby, no?” he giggles.

He moves a little, just about an inch out then in. “Mnh… it feels—nice, ‘Toru…” you coo as wet squelches echo in his room.

“Yeah? Does it, pretty?” You wrap your arms around his neck and nod, “Mhm… it’s… hah! It makes me wanna pee!” you softly squeal.

“You know you can say squirt, right? I won’t make fun of ya,” he mocks a little.

You hum in annoyance, which signals him to pick up the pace. Can’t be annoyed when you’re fucked dumb, yeah?

Plap! Plap! Plap!

The sounds are so wet and loud that it’s drowning out all the pornographic moans you’re making. At this point, Satoru’s even whining praises in your ear. “You’re so cute, mwah!” He presses a soft kiss to your cheekbone. “C’mon, don’t hide your noises…” he gradually quickens his pace.

“Fuck, don’t squeeze my cock like that, pretty. I don’t wanna cum so early,” he licks your ear and you clench again.

His hips stutter for a moment. “So close already, baby. ‘Toru’s so close, yeahhh, fuck! Keep clenching… jus’ like tha—hah..t!” he groans and you wrap your legs around him, pulling him impossibly close to your heat.

He keeps rutting into you, leaving little hickeys on your collar and chest since the ones from that night are now gone. “So pretty, don’t cover ‘em up, okay? We gotta show that Zenin loser and Suguru that you’re mine.”

You whimper, “You’re mine too, right, ‘Toru?”

He huffs and fucks harder into you. One of his hands journeys low to claim your bud. He rubs circles on it, using your slick to lubricate his movements.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as his motions become rougher. “Right, ‘Toru?” you manage to babble, but he just lets out a gruff sigh. Seriously, what’s wrong with this man? “Shut up,” he rasps.

You sniffle as you feel a pooling sensation in your core. It’s weird. Your heart feels heavy and yet your orgasm still finds a way to take over.

Again, Satoru’s hips stutter. Three heavy strokes and he cums into the rubber. How he wishes he can coat your baby room in white. He rasps your name as he lets his body lay limp on yours.

“Satoru!” you mewl, drooling onto his pillow. Your legs shake lightly as your pussy continues to slobber.

A white ring forms on the base of his cock as you cream, and he doesn’t stop thrusting. Though, it’s soft and slow, just to let the both of you ride your respective highs. “You’re so heavy,” you whine, and he lifts himself up a little.

As post-nut clarity sets in, you sob not because of pleasure but because of confusion. You’re utterly unsure whether he wants you or not—and whether he’s ready accept his feelings or let you go. Okay, maybe he is a monster.

While he keeps himself up with his elbow, he wipes your tears away with the back of his knuckles, knowing full well that he’s the cause. “You keep asking questions you don’t want the answer to, princess,” he starts, placing his lips on the corner of your own.

“I said I want you back, didn’t I?”

“You did but…” you whine, tearing up a little more.

He pouts mockingly, “Oh, baby, you’re dampening the mood and my sheets.” His mouth starts trailing down your body to leave soft kisses everywhere.

And after his exploration, he sits up. “On the floor, now, pretty,” he commands as he leans back on his hands, spreading his legs wide on the edge of his bed. You see his dick, still standing, still ready for more.

You do as you’re told, bringing your shaking body down to his carpet and kneeling in front of his hard member. He looks down at you with a cocky expression pasted above the vulnerability he wants to expose.

Your arms reach for his shaft, and at your light touch, it twitches. His hand shoots behind your head, you flinch, but his touch is gentle. “Hm, you’re so sweet,” he purrs as he runs his fingers through your hair, still relaxed, still open, still leaning as if he’s content, knowing you won’t run or bite.

He smiles as you take him inside your warm mouth. God, you’re so stupid, and he loves it. He loves how sweet you are, how you’re so eager to make him feel good. He loves that you’re so book smart and that you help him with his homework when he pretends to be a stupid fuck. He loves when you look at him or when you cry because of something he does. He loves when you compliment him and hide shyly behind your manicured hands. He loves how kind you are even towards people who don’t deserve it. He loves when you make him wait for you outside your lectures with a snack and drink in hand. He loves the way you smile when you catch him with a trinket or large gift. He loves when you’re red and embarrassed after he whispers a dirty joke. He loves how you allow him to think deeper about the world and he helps you let go for a bit. He loves how you make him feel human when everyone else treats him like a curse or god.

You pull back, confusion written all over your face as he looks like he’s spacing out. “Are you okay, ‘Toru?” you ask, putting your hands on his thighs to lift yourself up and look him in the eyes.

Your irises meet his baby blues, and he swears he cums without contact.

Then, like the stupid man he is. He finally allows himself to realize that fuck, he loves you.

🗒️: lwk, Satoru’s reminding me of Clavicular (sorry for the late post)

TAGLIST: @ironmal @xhslvt @asian-woody @fangirlingbookworm1 @ihateexistence @rizepudding @arushito @carmen-j @xinn3 @rikiswifeyyy @sixeyelotus @jaggedlegacynecromancer @lunathemoons-blog @fjhdjdnd @phis1990 @uhhhjayy @myradiaz @levi-acckerman @peepercreepers @douxie21 @akashiluvv @myla43 @gojodotexe @t00kiostar @michellehhw @h0lygu4camole @mikolaftonsforehead @bloodcollect0r @nada-axxa @rosebud1208 @soulanaxo @peachypink45 @doomscroller1 @majjiii @ssober @kyayaie @fhrhhgrdhehb @jjkslvtsstuff @meepmeepbeepeep @renfangirls247 @stelci @conniespeen @malikazz243 @superduper123456789 @eyekoniccs @Icckedheart @yuujiszn @chosoloverr1505 @vehuzzzz @thtweirdointhecornr1917 @voidgloww @lazylionlady @letskadagetke @sunaba3 @vampiriana @hiyori-starlingworld @christalinewater

[indiewritesxoxo]

a tale of two boyfriends! (and a very toxic!reader)

every man gets his wish

Was it a crime showing up to your ex-boyfriend's favorite bar? Or well, the only one you were both still not banned from?

A calculated move, sure, but look, it was your new boyfriend's favorite one too!

So what if you stared a little?

Nose scrunching up in disgust when he waltzed in with some dark-haired girl glued to his side and started tossing back shots with Gojo and his other idiot friends. How many times had you done this before? How many times would the two of it again? Making each other jealous until one of you inevitably snapped? Fucking around until you fought and figured out you were both pretty much intolerable and terrible to everyone else?

Toji wasn't too bad though.

Despite how difficult it was to keep up your angel act.

"Do you want to go?" Toji murmured in your ear, grinding up against your ass as his warm breath danced over your collarbone. Starting to press kiss after kiss up your throat, teeth skimming along the sensitive spots he'd been sucking on earlier.

"No," you scoffed a little too fast. "Not yet."

Not until Sukuna saw just how much fun you were having without him.

Which was definitely a lot.

Right?

You definitely weren't considering setting the entire place on fire when she ran her manicured nails up Sukuna's shirt and then raked her fingers through his soft pink hair. Or contemplating committing murder when she giggled at something he said and leaned in to start leaving lipstick stains across his jaw.

Twisting around to throw your wrists behind your boyfriend's neck, refusing to keep watching when every time they touched felt like torture. Pressing yourself all the way up against him, breasts pushed up as one of his big hands slipped down to squeeze your ass hard.

"God, I wanna fuck you," Toji murmured, slipping his hand beneath your dress to really grope you. Grabbing a handful as he dug his rock hard cock against your thigh, daring you to do something with it.

"There's an employee bathroom in the back," you mumbled, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging him down so you could bite his bottom lip instead of your own.

"Oh yeah?"

You knew because you used to fuck Sukuna in it.

Folded over the bathroom sink, his hand wrapped around your own hair to yank it back while he pounded you into the porcelain.

You refused to look back Sukuna's away when you took Toji's hand and started leading him there. Why would he give a shit when he'd probably be banging that bitch in his backseat by the end of the night anyway?

The still sane part of you hoped the bathroom would already be occupied. The crazy bitch you were at your core hoped Sukuna would waltz in halfway through Toji fucking you so he could see first-hand how much better you were at this moving on thing.

It might've you who started this game of pretending you didn't give a shit but you didn't feel like the winner even with a hot guy murmuring your name all soft and low as his thick fingers dug into your hips, dress rolled up to expose where your tiny lace thong was slick and sticking to your skin.

"Oh hell no."

Sukuna didn't look like a loser either when you looked over to catch him glaring at the rather compromising position he just found you in, holding the door to the bathroom open as a familiar vein throbbed across his forehead.

"The fuck is your deal?" Toji snapped, his hips pressed firmly against your ass, cock pulsing as he held onto you tighter.

"Keep your dick in your pants," Sukuna sharply retorted, as if he had any right to say shit like that. About to step in the bathroom before you heard Gojo call out his name in protest.

"I'm gonna put my dick in my girlfriend," Toji dismissively responded, only belatedly pulling down your dress to cover your ass.

Like it was anything Sukuna hadn't seen before.

"You don't even know her," Sukuna argued, the lump in his throat bobbing like he was the jilted one here. Neither of you wanted to be the one to break first, to admit defeat, but here he was, a crack in his armor - and his voice.

"You didn't appreciate her," Toji defended you, stepping back to put himself squarely between you and your ex. Who was acting a more like your actual boyfriend right now.

“She threw an air fryer at my fucking head,” Sukuna snarled, gesturing at you as Gojo appeared behind him, making a valiant attempt at holding him in place just for Sukuna to rip himself free. Storming over and puffing his chest out, muscles straining as he got up in Toji's face like he wished he had a kitchen appliance to hit him with.

But you just clung onto Toji’s bicep, batting your lashes at him as you pushed out your bottom lip, “Baby, does that even sound like something I would do?”

Toji scoffed at him, rolling his eyes hard, “Yeah, right, like I would believe that.”

You almost giggled at how stunned Sukuna was at Toji's belief in your innocence.

But then he turned to you, shaking his head hard.

"Don't tell me he doesn't bore you."

"Don't you have some girl waiting on you out there?" You replied, your voice tighter than you'd like, fingernails probably leaving little crescent moons in Toji's bicep as you hung onto him as hard as you clung to your pride. "I bet she's less annoying than me."

"Good thing I prefer my girls aggravating," Sukuna gruffly said, holding his hand out for you to take.

And how did you like your men?

who should reader go home with?

torture sukuna some more and go home with toji

have makeup sex with sukuna

Voting ended onJul 29

div by @/mieluno

[torupng]

❝ BLOG RECS P2 ❞ 2.5k !

゛★ 2.5k special — some of my current favorite blogs!

be mindful of each writer’s dni.

★ @indiewritesxoxo :: JJK CENTRIC (mostly nsfw)

coupled up! ft. jjk men. 18+

★ @gyarujo :: MULTI-FANDOM (n+sfw)

how to lose a nerd in ten days ft. nerdjo. sfw

★ @tokkushin :: MULTI-FANDOM (n+sfw)

talk to the hand ft. sukuna ryomen. 18+

★ @rengoatku :: JJK CENTRIC (n+sfw)

fratjo shows up at your dorm drunk ft. frat gojo. sfw

★ @kamislop :: MULTI-FANDOM (n+sfw)

sit on it like you mean it ft. hiromi higuruma. 18+

★ @toruii :: JJK CENTRIC (n+sfw)

nerdjo makes you jealous ft. nerd gojo. 18+

★ @torumaii :: JJK CENTRIC (n+sfw)

cursedcockhotline ft. jjk men. 18+

★ @neotoru :: JJK CENTRIC (n+sfw)

riding nerdjo’s thigh while he studies ft. nerd gojo. 18+

★ @bloomflix :: JJK + BLLK + MULTI (n+sfw)

i’m your internet girl ft. nerd gojo. sfw

★ @kireampie :: JJK CENTRIC (n+sfw)

slutty barista girl ft. satoru gojo. 18+ 

★ @liahcharms :: JJK CENTRIC (n+sfw)

she’s my collar ft trueform sukuna. 18+

★ @ryoride :: MULTI-FANDOM (n+sfw)

alt choso headcanons. sfw

★ @satoriee :: JJK CENTRIC (n+sfw)

music to his ears ft perv gojo. 18+

★ @yummidumplingss :: JJK CENTRIC (n+sfw)

asking your best friends to kiss ft satoru & suguru. 18+

★ @satoruined :: JJK CENTRIC (n+sfw)

infodumping his load ft. nerdjo. 18+

★ @fukiouh :: JJK CENTRIC (n+sfw)

solved ft. incel nerdjo. 18+

★ @fayelero :: MULTI-FANDOM (mostly 18+)

perv neighbor ft. satoru gojo. 18+

that’s all for this one! there will be another at 3k + more recs over all <3 i didnt wanna add too many (there r still so many favorites i haven’t included) but will include in the next ones!

[tokkiwrites]

𐔌 ⋮ 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐒. 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 𓏵 𝐅 ！𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

W.C 5K . ╋━ ℜed as my heart III. 🎐

𑣲𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ─── Peace never lasts forever. While Leon is away, old fears return wearing holy robes and carrying sharpened blades. Torn from the life you've built together, you're dragged back to the village that once abandoned you, where love is called sin and mercy is nowhere to be found

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ᣟ𐚁˳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : WEREWOLF ! LEON KENNEDY x fem!reader, afab! reader, gothic fairytale AU, gothic horror elements, age gap ( leon is literally hundreds of years old), angst, violence, blood, death, religious symbolism.

݁ᲝAIᲘ ᲝEᲘU | PART ONE | PART TWO | ˖Ი𐑼⋆ 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐈 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 🎮 . ᐟ.ᐟ hello everybunny! i'm sosososo glad you all enjoyed the first two parts of this little series. i know most of you expected a different ending BUT i have something else in mind so pleasee be patient and dont hate me !! that being said enjoy and remember reqs are open ! ♡

Every fairy tale teaches us that happiness comes after the dragon has been slain. They never speak of what happens when the dragon survives, nor do they mention the men who return with torches after the story has ended, eager to finish the work the monster had begun.

Peace is a fragile thing, it asks for very little of the world, only that the world leave it alone.

History has never been particularly kind to such requests. There are those who believe evil dies once it has been driven out, but fear is a curious creature, it rarely leaves with the monster.

More often, it stays behind. It gathers around dinner tables, beneath church roofs, sharpens axes in barns, until one morning it convinces otherwise decent men that cruelty is righteousness.

There is a peculiar sort of happiness that asks for no witness. It is not the kind sung about in great halls, the kind immortalized in painted glass, it has no desire to be remembered by history. It lives instead within ordinary things, that is why it is so easily overlooked.

You stood upon the little stool Leon had carved for you only a fortnight before, your fingertips carefully tying bundles of drying plants to one of the rafters overhead. "It is crooked." you declared, leaning back to inspect your work.

"It is."

You looked over your shoulder. "And you are not going to tell me?"

Leon rested another split log beside the chopping block before driving the axe cleanly through the next. The sound echoed between the trees. "You seemed pleased with it."

"I was."

"Then why should I interfere?"

A reluctant smile found your lips. "You encourage my bad habits."

"I encourage your happiness."

You shook your head, pretending to sigh as you climbed carefully back down from the stool. "You always know how to answer."

"I have had many years to practice."

"Not with me."

"No." A softer smile touched him then. "Not with you."

You crossed the clearing with slow steps, brushing stray leaves from your skirts. The hem caught against the grass, still damp from the morning dew. "You make it difficult to scold you."

"I know."

"And— You enjoy that."

"I do."

You reached him at last, brushing a speck of sawdust from his bare chest. "There."

He glanced down. "I am much improved."

"I should hope so."

His hand found the small of your back without thought, drawing you just a little closer. It had become second nature now.

The breeze wandered lazily through the clearing as Leon leaned down to kiss your lips softly. Somewhere beyond the trees, a squirrel scolded no one in particular.

You laughed quietly. "I think he disapproves of us."

"He disapproves of everyone."

"Even you?"

"Especially me."

"You have offended a squirrel?"

"I suspect.. I looked at him the wrong way this morning."

Your laughter answered. Leon watched you with that same fondness he had never quite learned to conceal. What a silly wolf.

"I shall not be long."

You smiled as Leon gathered your face between his hands, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly over your cheeks the way they always did before he ventured deeper into the forest.

"You always say that..."

"Because it has always been true." His forehead rested briefly against yours. "I shall return before the sun begins to sink."

"I know... Still, I will miss you."

He kissed you once, as no morning ought to begin without it. When he finally drew away, he hesitated. "What is it?" you asked.

"Nothing." There was the faintest crease between his brows, gone almost as soon as it appeared. You reached up, smoothing it away with your thumb.

"You worry too much."

"I have spent many centuries learning that worry often keeps one alive."

"But you found me."

Something softened in his expression.

"I did."

He kissed your forehead once more before stepping back.

"I shall return soon, my sweet girl."

For another moment he simply looked at you then he disappeared between the trees until the pale gold of his hair had vanished beneath the endless green.

The day slipped into afternoon. You had grown to love that hour most for it belonged to no one.

The little cabin felt no emptier in his absence.

It still had him everywhere, his cloak hung beside the door, his sharp axe rested against the chopping block, one of his shirts laid folded neatly upon the table where you had mended the sleeve only yesterday. You smiled to yourself because he would tear it again, you know.

Outside, the breeze stirred gently through the pines. You gathered your basket, humming a little melody as you wandered no farther than you ever had before. Wild thyme grew just beyond the clearing, and mushrooms beside the brook where the ground stayed damp even through the warmest days. You crouched amongst the flowers, cutting only what you needed, telling quiet apologies to the stems you left behind.

"You will grow back.." you promised them.

The basket slowly filled. You brushed the dirt from your palms as you stood.

The world was still, not unnaturally so. Simply.. still. You tilted your face toward the canopy. "I suppose you've all found somewhere prettier to sing." The birds had done that before so you thought nothing of it.

Turning back toward home, you had taken three steps before something caught hard around your ankle. Your balance vanished and the basket flew from your hand. Everything scattered across the ground. For one bewildered second you thought you had stumbled over a root. Then someone seized the back of your dress and he fabric bit painfully into your throat as you were wrenched backward. The rough rocks struck your knees first then your hands as stone tore through your palms.

You gasped, twisting instinctively, but another force slammed into your shoulder, sending you flat against the forest floor before you had even understood what was happening.

Your mouth opened soundlessly. A boot pressed between your shoulders, pinning you where you lay. "Hold her!"

The voice sounded human. Another pair of hands caught your wrists roughly

"No—" The word dissolved as your cheek scraped against the earth, dirt filled your mouth, someone pulled your arms behind your back ans pain shot through your body.

You kicked wildly, striking nothing but air before your heel connected with someone's shin. A curse rang through the trees.

The weight on your back doubled. "Keep her still!"

Your heart beat so violently you thought it might burst.

You could not see them, only boots and mud and the hem of dark robes. A wooden cross swinging wildly from a man's neck.

You tried again to scream. "Leon!" The name tore itself from your throat.

No answer came only another rough hand catching a fistful of your hair pulling your head backward until tears sprang instantly to your eyes.

"There she is." someone breathed. "The witch.."

"No—" you choked. "Please.!"

"Poor child." The voice was almost gentle but it made your blood run cold. "You needn't fear anymore." A length of coarse rope bit into your wrists. "You've been under the beast's spell long enough."

You stared at him. Spell? Your thoughts would not gather, nothing made sense. You looked desperately toward the clearing.

Someone stooped to retrieve the overturned basket. He looked at its contents with disgust before emptying it onto the ground, then the basket was crushed beneath his boot.

"Take her."

The forest did not protest. It had watched kingdoms rise and crumble. Men had come with axes, with fire, with prayers upon their lips and blood upon their hands and it had outlived every one of them.

Yet for the first time in many years, something precious had been torn from its heart. The little basket lay where it had fallen, one ribbon loosened from your hair in the struggle had caught upon a low branch, the cabin door stood open as the pie cooling on the table remained untouched. Nothing inside the little home knew its mistress would not be returning.

Leon came back not long before dusk, a young stag slung effortlessly across his shoulders. He smiled to himself as he crossed the clearing, already imagining the little frown that would appear between your brows when you saw the state of his boots.

"You will scold me again.." he said beneath his breath. "And then pretend you were never upset at all."

His eyes drifted past the broken basket almost absently at first, still searching for the pale blue of your skirts between the trees. Perhaps you had wandered farther than usual. Or maybe you had heard him returning and decided, for reasons known only to yourself, to tease him with another little game of hide and seek.

"You have become terribly bold!" he called with a smile that had already begun to fade. "Come now, my sweet. I know you are somewhere close.."

Only when he stooped to right the basket did he notice how badly it had been crushed. One side had splintered completely, the wicker stained dark. His fingers lingered there before his gaze followed the disturbed ground a little farther on.

There was blood, enough to soak into the moss and gather in the grooves between the roots, where the forest floor had drunk greedily from it. Branches had been snapped at shoulder height and the ferns were flattened. Something had struggled here. Someone.

His hand closed around the little ribbon caught amongst the broken wicker. "No.."

His eyes darted wildly across the clearing as though you might step from behind one of the trees at any moment, laughing at the poor jest you had carried too far. "My sweet?"

He took another few hurried steps, following the churned earth until the trail simply ended beneath a dozen overlapping footprints.

"No!" This time it sounded strained. "Enough! You have frightened me enough!"

Leon dropped to one knee, pressing his palm into the blood soaked dirt. His nostrils flared sharply. He could smell your fear, he could smell the salt of your tears, he could smell where they had laid their hands upon you.

The growl that escaped him was unlike anything human. It rolled deep through his chest, low enough to make the branches overhead tremble as birds burst from the canopy all at once.

"No!" His fingers tightened around the ribbon until the silk tore between his claws. "I left you.. I left you alone." Another breath drew through his nose, shuddering as your scent tangled with blood, smoke, and the stink of strange men. "They touched you.."

His shoulders lurched violently. Bone shifted beneath skin with a sickening crack. He bent forward, one hand digging deeply into the earth that roots splintered beneath his claws. "Laid their filthy hands upon you!"

His spine arched unnaturally, muscles twisting beneath his flesh as though something immense struggled to free itself from the prison of a human shape. "I should have buried that cursed village beneath these mountains when I first found you!"

His jaw snapped sharply to one side, then the other. A guttural groan tore from deep within "I— showed them mercy."

His words dissolved into a growl as his ribs widened with another grotesque series of cracks, his hands sinking deeper into the moss while claws lengthened against the stone. "And they answered it with this? The crows shall grow fat before my grief is spent!"

His breathing became ragged, faster, hungrier.

"They will beg their god to make the earth swallow them before I am through."

Bones split and reformed beneath taut skin, tendons strained. "And when I am finished, mothers will frighten their children with my name." His back rose higher and higher until the last remnants of the man who had kissed your forehead that morning disappeared beneath coarse fur.

"I shall teach them what beast they have stolen from." One final howl cut the evening, then the wolf ran.

By the time they hauled you into the village square, the last of the daylight had begun to dissipate across the rooftops. The church bell rang once, then again. Its heavy toll rolled over the village until doors began to open. People emerged slowly, clutching rosaries, little wooden crosses, prayer books worn soft with age. Mothers pulled their children close as fathers stood before them, shoulders squared as though preparing for war.

The preacher stood upon the old stone well at the centre of the square, his hands lifted toward the heavens. "Our prayers have been answered." A murmur rippled through the gathering. "The Lord has returned His lost lamb to us."

"Amen."

"Amen."

"Amen."

You struggled weakly against the ropes biting into your wrists. "I am not lost!"

The preacher's voice only grew louder. "For months we have mourned the loss of Father Aldren, the closest thing this village ever knew to a servant of God.." His eyes swept over the crowd before settling upon you. "And who slew him?"

"The beast!" several voices answered.

"Who desecrated the church?"

"The beast!"

"Who stole this poor child from her mother's embrace?"

"The beast! The abomination!"

You shook your head desperately. "No! No, that is not what happened!"

One of the men behind you struck the back of your knees and you fell hard upon the cobblestones. "The Devil does not enjoy being contradicted, you see."

Pain shot through your legs, but you forced yourself upright. "He never stole me!" you cried. "I went with him willingly!"

A horrified gasp swept through the square. The preacher closed his eyes. "You hear it.." His voice was almost mournful. "The corruption has rooted itself deep!"

"No!"

"He has poisoned her soul!"

"He is my husband!" The words tore themselves from your throat before fear could swallow them. "Do you hear me? I am his wife!"

A sharp crack echoed through the square as your head snapped sideways. The taste of blood bloomed across your tongue.

A woman hurriedly covered her little daughter's ears. Another crossed herself. "The Devil speaks through her.." someone whispered.

"No..." Tears spilled freely down your bruised face. "Please— Please listen.."

The preacher stepped down from the well until he stood only a few paces away. He stepped down from the well until only a few paces separated the two of you. He looked upon your bruised face before turning sharply back toward the crowd.

"Look at her!" His voice rang across the square. "And look well!"

People leaned forward, children peeked from behind their fathers.

"This..." He pointed at you as though you were no more than an animal dragged in from the hunt. "This is what becomes of those who forsake the Lord!" A chorus of amens answered him.

"To hell with the beast!"

"No!" You lurched against the ropes, nearly losing your footing. "He never forced me!" A fist crashed into your stomach and air fled your lungs. You doubled over with a broken gasp. "He is my husband—" you managed between breaths. "I chose him.."

The preacher threw both hands into the air. "You hear it!" His face twisted with righteous fury. "She speaks of the beast as though he were a man!"

"He is!" Another blow. Your lip split anew against your teeth. "I am his lo-lover, his wife!"

The square erupted. "She belongs on the pyre!"

The preacher smiled victorious. Your head snapped upward.

"Your mother waited. She waited for the daughter stolen from her."

The crowd murmured, women weeping.

"She begged God every night to send you home."

"I—I.."

"She died with your name upon her lips, yet you were not there to close her eyes. You were not there to bury her."

"No.. Stop it—"

"You were lying beside a monster while your own mother was laid beneath the earth!"

A cry tore itself from your throat, your sobs breaking against the empty square as the cold stones beneath your knees greedily drank your tears.

The preacher turned slowly toward the villagers.

"Do you see?" He spread his arms wide. "Even now the Devil clings to her!"

"I love hi-him!" you sobbed, barely able to breathe. "He loves me!"

A man spat at your feet. "Beast's whore!" As several others laughed.

The preacher raised his hand once more. "She threatens the souls of every child in this village."

As though summoned by the words, a little boy peered timidly from behind his mother's skirts and his eyes found yours. They were frightened but curious. You looked back at him through tears, your swollen lips trembling into the faintest, most broken smile you could manage.

The boy frowned. "Mama.."

"What is it?"

"Why is she crying..?"

The woman looked from her son to you. For the briefest instant, pity flickered across her face.

Then the preacher's voice boomed through the square. "Do not let your children look upon her!"

The woman gasped, yanking the little boy behind her so sharply he stumbled.

"Down!" she hissed. "Eyes down!"

"But Mama–"

"She'll poison your soul!" The little boy buried his face against his mother's skirts.

The preacher watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction. He turned slowly, addressing not you, but every soul gathered in the square. "The serpent has no fangs of its own." He pointed toward you. "It borrows ours."

His gaze swept over the frightened children. "It smiles. It weeps. It speaks with the gentle voice of a beautiful woman. And before you know it.." He spread his hands. "Your own child calls evil love."

"Amen."

"Amen."

The man descended the final step. His boots stopped an arm's length before you. You refused to lower your eyes and for that alone, he smiled.

"So much pride." His hand shot forward without warning. Fingers buried themselves in your hair, wrenching your head back so sharply a cry slid past your bloody teeth.

"There." He studied your face as though searching for something beneath your human skin. "Can you hear Him?"

Your breathing came ragged.

"L—et go."

"Pray!" The word rang loud and ugly. "Pray with me, child."

You glared up at him through tear stained lashes.

"Ask the Lord's forgiveness." His grip tightened. "Show Him there yet remains the smallest ember of holiness within your soul."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough that only those nearest could hear. "I would spare you if I could. But first..." As he gave your hair another cruel tug. "The beast must loosen his grip upon your heart."

Around you, the villagers had already begun.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven..." One voice became five then five became twenty. Soon the entire square was praying. Louder, louder still.

The preacher looked down at you expectantly. "Pray."

But you said nothing.

"Pray." His jaw tightened. "I said—"

You drew in one slow breath then spat. Blood and saliva struck his cheek. The crimson slowly slid down his face. For a moment, he simply stared at you and you met his gaze without flinching.

"He— has shown me more grace with blood upon his hands." Your voice trembled, though not with fear. "You are a coward dressed as a holy man! If this is the face of God's servant.." you whispered, your eyes burning into his "Th-Then I should sooner kneel before the Devil."

The preacher wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, turning the bloodstained flesh toward the villagers as he began. "The beast has taught her well."

The preacher had only just opened his mouth to speak again when shouting erupted from the far end of the square.

"Father!"

The crowd parted instinctively as two watchmen came stumbling between them, breathless, one clutching his side where he'd clearly fallen in his haste.

"Father.." one gasped. "He's here."

"Who?"

"The Beast."

"I saw him!" the younger watchman cried. "By the treeline! He's watching us!"

The preacher slowly lifted one hand. At once, the panic quieted. "Do not loose your arrows."

The hunters stared at him. "But Father—"

"I said." His voice rang like thunder. "Do not loose your arrows."

"He'll slaughter us."

"Let him come." Several heads turned toward him in disbelief. "Today..." he continued "The Lord Himself shall judge between beast and man."

The wolf was here. The crowd slowly parted, leaving the road to the forest completely bare. Nobody breathed for nobody dared to.

Beyond the final row of cottages, where the pines swallowed the last of the evening light, something moved. Branches bowed aside before him like loyal followers.

Several villagers immediately fell to their knees.

"Oh merciful Father..." Another man crossed himself over and over, his lips moving in frantic prayer. "He is enormous.."

Leon stood at the edge of the trees carved from the mountain itself. His silver coat was soaked dark in places where branches and stone had torn through skin during his desperate pursuit, blood disappearing beneath thick fur. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, each one curling pale mist into the cooling air.

All of it ceased to exist when there you were, bruised, bound with blood upon your face.

"Leon.. Don't—"

His ears twitched as the only sign he had heard you at all.

"So." His voice carried through the silence. "The wolf comes to reclaim what he believes belongs to him?"

Leon did not answer. His lips peeled back just enough to reveal the gleam of impossibly long fangs, the expression of a starving wolf's might.

The preacher did not take his eyes off the wolf. A smile spread across his face. "Untie her."

Several hunters hesitated. "Father.."

"I said untie her." Just like that the ropes fell away from your wrists.

"Leon—!" Your legs gave beneath you and you stumbled across the square, scraping your knees against the stones.

"Leon.." He never took his eyes off the men surrounding you. Only when you reached him did his great head lower. You threw your arms around his neck, burying your face into the thick silver fur. "Oh, Leon.."

A soft, aching whine rumbled from somewhere deep within his chest. His tongue brushed the blood from your cheek. Your hands buried themselves in his coat.

"I'm here.." you whispered through tears. "I'm here." His enormous body shifted, placing itself between you and the village without thinking.

Behind you the preacher lowered one hand.

And so, the bowstring sang. Your scream never had the chance to leave your throat.

The arrow buried itself deep beneath Leon's shoulder with a sickening sound.

His howl split the evening and the mountains answered. Pain overtook him, then the instinct to shield. His enormous body lurched sideways despite the hurt, forcing itself between you and the village. One foreleg buckled beneath him, but he planted the other, lowering himself over you until all you could see was silver fur and blood.

Another arrow could not reach you, not while he still breathed.

"Leon!" you sobbed.

His breath shuddered, he barely seemed to hear. The muscles along his back trembled violently as he searched the crowd, ears flattened, lips peeled back over crimson teeth.

One more step, and another. He tried to drive them back but his legs gave. The blood was coming far too quickly so the great wolf staggered once before the magic began to unravel. Bone shifted beneath skin and the monstrous frame folded inward with awful cracks until Leon collapsed into your arms, his breathing ragged, blood soaking the front of his shirt.

"My fawn.." His voice was so small. You caught his face between bloody hands. "I am here."

His eyes found yours. "Do not cry.."

The preacher stepped forward, his voice ringing across the deathly silent square. "Behold!"

He pointed toward the bleeding man in your embrace. "The abomination that desecrated God's house!"

He looked down upon Leon with open contempt.

"Look well. This is the monster she chose over her own salvation."

You stared at the arrow slick with Leon's blood as the monster's words rang empty. "I'm sorry.." Leon's eyes widened ever so slightly because he knew. Before he could stop you, you wrenched the shaft free. Leon cried out as the arrow teared through meat and flesh.

The sound shattered whatever remained of you.

"I'm s-sorry.." you sniffled, your hands slick with his blood. "I'm so, so sorry.."

His fingers caught weakly at your wrist.

"My sweet fawn.."

You looked at him one last time then you stood. No one moved to stop you. Perhaps they thought you meant to surrender, perhaps they believed you too broken to do anything at all.

The preacher smiled. "There now.." he said, opening his arms as though welcoming you back into the fold. "The Lord's light has finally reached your heart. Come, child."

The bloodied arrow hung limp in your hand.

"You have suffered greatly.." he continued. "But He is merciful! Kneel before—"

His words vanished into a startled gasp as you drove the arrow into his throat.

His eyes searched yours, wide with confusion, with disbelief, as though he could not fathom how the frightened little girl he once pitied had become the thing standing over him now. His lips parted, but only wet, choking gurgles escaped as blood spilled down his chin.

You pulled the arrow free and struck again.

And Again. Again. Again!

Each blow came with another cry of your own, shoulders shaking so violently you could barely keep your footing. "You—" you choked, driving the shaft forward once more. "You hurt him!" Another strike. "You dared to hurt him!" Another. "You hurt.." Your voice broke completely. "My husband..."

The preacher stumbled backward, his robes darkening as he tried to raise a hand toward you. The monster's body struck the cobblestones with a dull and final thud.

The arrow slipped from your fingers. For a long moment you simply stood there as blood dripped from your hands.

Slowly, you turned. The entire square stared back at you. The hunters still held their bows, yet not a single one remembered how to draw the string.

Your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as tears still streamed down your bloody and blossoming face.

"You wanted a beast..?" You took a single step toward them. Immediately, three men stumbled backward. "You wanted one? Come." Your voice cracked. "Come and see one.."

But no one moved. "Come!" The scream birthed itself from somewhere so deep inside of you that it didn't sound human.

A little girl burst into terrified sobs. One of the hunters looked desperately toward the preacher's body, waiting. Waiting for an order that would never come.

Their shepherd lay dead and their certainty had died beside him. The square, so full of righteous fury only moments before, suddenly felt very small, very quiet and very afraid.

You looked from one face to the next. Faces that had watched them beat you, that had cheered, that had called your husband a devil. Not one of them met your eyes now.

"Sweet girl..."

Heart lunching, you spun around at once.

Leon had managed to push himself halfway upright before his strength deserted him again, one blood soaked hand pressed uselessly against the wound in his chest. "Leon, do not move.."

Both hands found his face, brushing blood matted strands of hair away from his brow. "Can you stand?" you whispered.

He tried but his knees buckled almost immediately, a pained sound escaping him.

"I-I've got you," you whispered, gathering him into your arms as though nothing else in the world existed. "I've got you.."

His forehead rested against yours. Even now, with the square frozen in horrified silence, his only concern was you. "My brave.." he began, his voice barely there. A faint smile was on his lips despite the pain. "My brave girl of the moon.."

You gathered him against your chest, letting him rest where your heartbeat was strongest, and through trembling lips you sang the very melody that had once guided a frightened little girl through the same woods he had watched over for centuries, long before you had ever known the wolf's name.

Far where the spring begins and winter ends..

Caught on a death-ill wind, the river bends.

A dear woodpecker that sings my plight,

Of one thirsty summer, when one had might.

The rain that knows my sorrow, the willow tree...

Has its roots of autumn remember me.

You take a deep breath as tears fall upon his still, but barely, smiling face. You brushed the hair from his face with careful fingers as you continued.

So sleep, my dearest child, your mother's here.

As flowers bloom with life, no monster's near.

The sound of midnight stars shall keep us safe.

None shall hurt thee, dear, in mother's wake..

The last note lingered only for a moment before the forest claimed it. You rested your forehead against his, crying. "You promised—" you whispered with a smile that fought apart beneath fresh tears. "You promised you'd never leave me alone again.."

Still, the wind had no answer.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

[pinkhoodi]

let's get to know each other + cure the boredom a little

hair color:

favorite color:

favorite drink:

one thing you love about yourself:

if you could be any animal, what would you be?

dream place to visit:

what's one thing you're looking forward to right now?

your biggest dream:

song that's permanently on your repeat:

10 people i'd like to get to know better tag game

• hair color — brownish-ish black. still fading from when I died it a deep red

• favorite color — pink, light blue, and black !!

• favorite drink — passion fruit/mango lemonade is literally my kryptonite

• one thing you love about yourself — the way I think about and process things.

• if you could be any animal, what would you be ? AN OTTER. they’re so freaking cuteeeee ☹️☹️

• dream place to visit — italy or countryside of france

• what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? MY MF BDAYYYYYY (which is today 😋)

• your biggest dream — to find pure happiness and hold onto it, and be rich asf

• song that's permanently on your repeat — too many to say. imma do a top 3 of just this week alone

follow me x rochelle jordan

rent free x sailorrr

I just died x amerie

TAGS <3 ( no pressure ! ) :: @prettysouled @girlnamedkash @neighbourscat @amourflores @h3avenlyglory @httpjoints @arervoir @rosariesandangels

[ether3alglory]

Well, this fun! Thank you for the tag, my love!

ℋ𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒞ℴ𝓁ℴ𝓇༯ a very deep almost black-brown with blue chunky highlights(literally just had red last week😭)

ℱ𝒶𝓋ℴ𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝒞ℴ𝓁ℴ𝓇༯ Red & Pink.

ℱ𝒶𝓋ℴ𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀: Most sparkling water & lemonade/ strawberry lemonade.

𝒪𝓃ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇𝓈ℯ𝓁𝒻༯ My ability to read intentions and attitudes

ℐ𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒸ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷ℯ 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓁 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒷ℯ༯ A snake or Panther.

𝒜 𝒹𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓂 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸ℯ 𝓉ℴ 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉༯ Thailand, Vietnam, & Italy.

𝒪𝓃ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓁ℴℴ𝓀𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒻ℴ𝓇𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝓇𝓃༯ Going to the Orlando metro area with my man and my best friend.

𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝒾ℊℊℯ𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓂༯ Fulfillment, meaning, and peace. Also to become an actress but also a figure for other black women and guide us till I can't anymore.

𝒮ℴ𝓃ℊ 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓅ℯ𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 ℴ𝓃 𝓇ℯ𝓅ℯ𝒶𝓉༯ I literally can't choose but artist that I'm rarely gonna skip are: Miguel, Beyoncé, Megan Thee Stallion, Iyla, & Arctic Moneys.

𝒯𝒶ℊ𝓈(np)🏷 @foryuiwill, @pyraomen, @cravemyhoney, @mtcloudsworld, @heavenlypining, @ipodr4ve, & @msnoirgirl.

[mtcloudsworld]

Thank you for the tag beautiful! 💖

Okay so boom!

hair color: brown

favorite color: lavender

favorite drink: pineapple fanta

one thing you love about yourself: my drive for determination, even if it means tiring myself out

if you could be any animal, what would you be?: a panda

dream place to visit: Tokyo japan

what's one thing you're looking forward to right now?: my new job! THANK GOD!

your biggest dream: to find peace and stability.

Song that's permanently on your repeat: I have too many so...

Crash out by Tinashe

Hot yoga by Domani

Kehlani by Kehlani

And all pride aside by kwn

npt: @jellywrites1218 @kimmylikesthemall @hon3y0logy @blond3ang3l @ibuprofein @honeysmoonave @ravenndiaries @soleantoinette @sugurusladyknightt @corsetdevious @aizawash0e

[sugurusladyknightt]

yippee thank you for the tag cutie ‎

𓏲 hair colour: brown

𓏲 favourite colour(s): maroons & purples

𓏲 favourite drink(s): green tea and & mango juice mm

𓏲 one thing you love about yourself: my resilience:>

𓏲 if you could be any animal, what would you be? hmm idk a cat maybe or a unicorn!!

𓏲 dream place to visit: so many! i'd like to travel to as many places in the world as i can

𓏲 one thing you're looking forward to right now? going to sleep nod nod

𓏲 my biggest dream: contentment w myself & the life ill live

𓏲 song permanently on your repeat: hmmm idk tho the last song i listened to was goodbye, my danish sweetheart by mitski

npt!! @satorus-princess @decay1ngstatic @elysian-chaos @moviecritc @yorikae @sugurusbadhabit @macbethinchains @sukunahs @literaila @uhnosav & anyone who'd like to join :p

[sugurusbadhabit]

thank you for the tag nae 🫶

hair color: i have a split dye, one side is my natural brown the other side is pink and green

favorite colors: pink and green (shocker, i know)

favorite drink: big fan of ice water

one thing you love about yourself: my own sense of humor, i genuinely believe i’m the funniest person on the planet

if you could be any animal, what would you be: a chihuahua specifically owned by myself or my husband. we love our little ratdogs 🫶

dream place to visit: i’ve always wanted to go to new zealand, ireland and greece

one thing you’re looking forward to right now: i’m going to the beach tomorrow!

my biggest dream: i’d love to own an animal rescue 🥺

song permanently on repeat: currently summer disease by millington

no pressure tags: @satorusdollie @satorusdreamer @hotties4gojo @satoruined @lunarkyn @oporotheca @iamsoclone @serpenttine @plaguecxlt @siennayaps + whoever would like to join

[serpenttine]

omg ur hair is so cool wtf??!????!

hair colour : dyed the blackest black

fav colour : i don’t really have one but i like how red looks on me 😵‍💫

fav drink : protein milk latte flavour mmnnnmmn

if you could be any animal : take a guess ( a snake ) ( durr )

one thing you love about yourself : i don’t tolerate disrespect

dream place to visit : thailand, italy, japan, france (i’ve been 2 paris once already but would love to go again )

one thing you’re looking forward to right now : getting a break from the city and going on a camping trip with friends!!

my biggest dream : find the courage (and money..) to move to the other side of the world

song permanently on repeat : everything she wants by wham

npt: @kireampie @sugurusbeloved @6x-x9

[6x-x9]

thank you for the tag lovely @serpenttine

hair color: naturally brown-black (very black only brown in the sun)

favorite color : green

favorite drink : homemade cacoa tea

one thing you love about yourself : my communication skills

if you could be any animal, what would you be? : I'd be a raven

dream place to visit : Barbados, all the lovely lovely beaches

what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? : going out and spending time with my family tomorrow

your biggest dream : to not be scared of new things

song that's permanently on your repeat : 1, 2 step by ciara

𔘓 npts : @mimimochis @yummidumplingss @liahcharms @lostinsmut @sugurusplaything @satoriee @toruii @blu-goingdark @neotoru @torupng @aliienangel @fukiouh @kamoslover @paninsoup @hangenism @feyrinnn @azarianfalkner @sky-lemonade @revolvingsaturn @bearlovestea @sugurusbeloved @sukunahs 𔘓

[torupng]

thank you for the tag @6x-x9 !! ily<3

hair color: naturally light brown, dyed black.

favorite color: teal/sea green/maroon red.

favorite drink: white mocha iced coffee or red bull mojito

one thing you love about yourself: my rationality

if you could be any animal: a wolf most likely

dream place to visit: japan

one thing you’re looking forward to: seeing my friends + watching brand new day

biggest dream: becoming a videogame concept artist

song permanently on repeat: kuchuburanko by plastic tree

no pressure tags !! : @kamislop @waltzingphantoms @oncasette @liahcharms @luviery @vianawaits @1nsignia @mayhemi @brinawing @bloomcissa @bloomflix @rengoatku @toruii @tokkushin + anyone who wants to participate

[liahcharms]

Waaah thank you @6x-x9 and @torupng 🌷 I have missed a few games you tagged me at so it’s my time to shine…

hair color: light blonde

favourite color: baby pink, black, baby blue (it fits my eyes hehe 🧿👄🧿)

favourite drink: anything elderflower and lavender flavoured, mainly tea 🍵

one thing you love about yourself: my filthy yet rich mind

if you could be any animal: a tiger🐯

dream place to visit: New Orleans and Oregon

one thing you’re looking forward to: getting my satosugu tattoo on Wednesday UGHH

biggest dream: becoming a professor in Chinese history and literature (I’m applying to PhD next year hehe)

song permanently on repeat: „Who’s Lovin’ You” by Jackson 5

pressure tags 🌷 :: @kamislop @nanamissweetgirl @pillsatoru @tojidihcheese @lilithkleia @yoonsucks @soupydumplings @honeyoftheisle @sugurusplaything @suganoms @aliienangel @moviecritc @suganoms @satoriee @satolune @vngelisse @bearlovestea @jiyuspassion @xchosos-wifex @jazzthatonewriterchick ~ and sure I thought about someone ugh, everyone is invited!

[satoriee]

thank you for the tag @6x-x9 @rengoatku (i saw 👁️) & @liahcharms !! storing everything in my mind palace <3

hair color: blue (i was born like this trust me)

favorite color: b…blue. second place goes to green, third place is for porpol (º﹃º)

favorite drink: a cold redbull will do it for me every time, but also big water enthusiast over here 💧

one thing you love about yourself: i’d like to think i’m pretty emotionally intelligent

if you could be any animal: a fox or a cat 🐈‍⬛

dream place to visit: though a dream of mine is to travel as much as i can, Japan still seems like this faraway, unattainable place

one thing you’re looking forward to right now: visiting my home country #nostalgia

biggest dream: idk i just want to feel at peace

song permanently on repeat: here i am by the hellp (currently!)

🏷️ no pressure tags: @ac1dmeow @faerieschronicles @16spades @gyarujo @fayelero @fukiouh @yorikae @neotoru @cinnamongirlsev @grotesquevi @lesmerri @yutootired @sugurusplaything @yummidumplingss @kireampie @lilithkleia @keistriction @macbethinchains @purrtoru @vngelisse @polaroidsex @purrtoru + anyone who’d like to join !!

[fukiouh]

tysm for the tags @satoriee and @6x-x9, luv u <333

hair color: brown

favorite color: everything pink!

favorite drink: probably kombucha, preferably home made!

one thing you love about yourself: that i usually dgaf about most things

if you could be any animal, what would you be? a cow, cows are total baddies

dream place to visit: Japan and China!

what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? uhhh, short-term, probably my trip to Ireland. long-term, definitely starting my Master's!!

your biggest dream: to be so rich and comfy that the only things i have to focus on are my hobbies

song that's permanently on your repeat: currently Drunk on Halloween by Wallows

🏷️ npt: @itsnika , @kashimochi , @satorussolace , @satorusdreamer , @gojopied , @vilsoo , @xstars-alignedx + anyone who wants to join!

[satorussolace]

@fukiouh tysm for the tag

hair color : brown with blonde highlights

favorite color : light green and coral

favorite drink : Diet Coke

one thing you love about yourself : I love all my interests and hobbies

if you could be any animal what would you be? hmm honestly I would be a cat bc they get to sleep and do nothing all day

dream place to visit : London def

what’s one thing you’re looking forward to right now? well I’m going to an evanescence concert tmr so definitely looking forward to that

your biggest dream : to become a pediatric surgeon or just simply a pediatrician

song permanently on repeat : my own prison by creed or with you by linkin park

npt: @hauntedbyink @kayuekou

[itsnika]

.masterlist.— taglists.

pairing: Satoru Gojo/Reader w.c.: ongoing (~41,2k) summary:

You've never been the sorcerer they sent in first. Not because you couldn't handle yourself—you could, and anyone who quietly assumed otherwise or dared to question your abilities out loud learned quickly that a cursed tool in your hands ends a curse just as efficiently as any flashier technique. But what you could do from the sidelines was worth more than what you could do in the field. Your technique, Senken—Foresight—let you see exactly one hour into any future you chose to look at. One hour, experienced in full, returned to you with perfect clarity: enough to map every outcome and prepare for it, enough to close every gap and ensure there wouldn't be any surprises, enough to bring sorcerers home who wouldn't have made it otherwise. Now you're back in Tokyo for the first time in years. Geto Suguru, who you once shared a cafeteria table and four years of your life with, is on the official threat register. Shoko Ieiri is the only one from those years who still picks up when you call. And Satoru Gojo is alive and completely unreachable in the way that only people who've decided to grieve someone who isn't dead yet can be. You've looked into the future a thousand times across your career. You've always known what was coming. Yet, no vision could've prepared you for what was waiting back in Tokyo.

༝ PREQUEL. ༝ Chapter 1. ༝ Chapter 2. ༝ Chapter 3. ༝ Chapter 4. ༝ Chapter 5. ༝ Chapter 6. ༝ Chapter 7. ༝ Chapter 8. ༝ Chapter 9. ༝ Chapter 10. ...

[satorussolace]

GOLDEN BROWN

With the political crisis your kingdom is in, your father arranges you into an unwanted marriage with the notorious Prince Gojo—an elegant solution to keep two powerful kingdoms from tearing each other apart. Despite your hopes for the kind of love you’ve always dreamt of, Prince Gojo is everything the rumors said he was: lustful, untouchable, and emotionally closed off in ways you couldn’t begin to fathom. And when the suffocation of court life finally drives you beyond ballroom walls and polished smiles—you find yourself wandering in the palace gardens. It is there in those gardens, that you find your true salvation in a man who looks at you in the way you’ve always craved—like a human being rather than a title.

pairings: suguru geto x princess!reader x prince!gojo

content/warnings: renaissance au, arranged marriages, toxic relationships, angst, tension tension tension, the patriarchy, love triangle, infidelity, morally grey characters, reader is in an arranged marriage with satoru, emotional manipulation, political drama, fluff, deception, not super accurate to the renaissance era

notes: fanart is by ladycapuccino on Pinterest! I always think of the 2015 Cinderella movie when writing this fic like it’s so fucking perfect. Sorry this is shorter than I expected but I was dealing with some preeetty bad writers block

<<chapter one — masterlist — playlist — chapter three>>

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Soft morning light spilled across your room in warm gold, but it did nothing to soothe the lingering unease in your chest. You had barely closed your eyes before the memory of the garden resurfaced, causing you a particularly restless night. You sat up slowly in bed, throwing off the heavy blankets.

For a moment, you simply sat there, enveloped by the mocking silence of your chamber. A sigh escaped you at the sound of a soft knock at your door. You just woke up and you were already needed for something.

“Your highness,” a voice called gently from the other side. “His majesty has requested you.”

Your stomach tightened immediately. “Now?” You asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Yes, your highness. He said it was urgent.”

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to steady. Of course it was urgent. You rose from the bed, shakily smoothing down your night gown and trying to ignore the way your thoughts immediately spiraled. Whatever your father wanted, it couldn’t be worse than what your imagination was suggesting.

He couldn’t have possibly found out. Gojo hadn’t pushed anymore after the ball, and Geto certainly wasn’t foolish enough to announce what had happened. The garden was secluded, hidden behind hedges and vines. No one had seen you.

The reassurance did little to settle your nerves. As you dressed for the day, your father’s summons lingered at the forefront of your mind, turning every possibility into something malevolent.

You left your chambers and made your way through the palace corridors. Servants hurried past with food trays and armfuls of linens, bowing politely as you passed. Normally, the familiar morning bustle would be comforting but today it only made you feel more exposed.

By the time you reached your father’s wing of the palace, your stomach was twisted into knots. You sounded a soft knock on those massive wooden doors, the juxtaposition of the sound against the grand doors almost feeling laughable.

“Enter.”

You stepped inside, offering a respectful bow. Your father sat behind his desk, his posture as rigid as his personality. No matter how old you’ve gotten, the fear that you harbor for your father had never gone away. Whispers of the king during wartime followed him for years, weaving themselves into court gossip and soldiers’ tales alike. They spoke of a ruler whose mercy was scarce and whose judgment was absolute. A king who never hesitated to take the life of anyone who stepped in his way.

As a child, the truth of those stories had terrified you.

As an adult, they still did.

“Father,” you greeted quietly, somewhat afraid that your responses would anger him.

His sharp eyes lifted from the documents scattered across his desk. “Sit.”

The command was calm, yet you obeyed without question, lowering yourself into the chair opposite of him. A heavy silence stilled between you as your father studied you for a moment, his expression as unreadable as his eyes.

“There is a matter we need to discuss.”

The seriousness in his tone pulled the knot in your stomach even tighter than before. You straightened slightly, “W-What is it?”

He folded his hands atop his desk, pursing his lips lightly. “Our negotiations with the northern kingdom have concluded.”

You paused, fighting the urge to break your poker face. “I wasn’t aware they were ongoing.”

“They are no longer.”

Something about the way he said it made a razor sharp feeling of unease crawl up your spine. Your father leaned back in his chair, never once looking away from you. “You will be relocating there within the next month.”

The words landed with crushing force, your throat tightening painfully like something was lodged inside. “…I’m sorry?”

“You heard me,” he declared, his expression never faltering as he looked at you like you were nothing more than some poor servant girl.

Your heart sank, within a month you would leave behind everything you’ve ever known. Your palace, your bedroom, your precious garden. You felt small compared to him, your word meant absolutely nothing to him. There was no other option but to obey, he wouldn’t even think twice about saying no to a compromise.

“Okay,” you whispered, staring down at the floor like it could swallow you up and save you from this moment.

“You may leave,” your father ordered, sparing you one last look before focusing back on the hundreds of documents scattered around his desk.

You stood up, hesitating in the door way. You sulked like a little girl, the weight of his words hung down on your shoulders like two heavy stones. You let out a shaky exhale, two small teardrops escaping before you could blink them away. Your fingers curled on the doorknob before moving out of his study.

Your footsteps felt heavier on the way back to your chambers, everything blurred together like a color swatch on one of your royal portraits. Within the safety of distance, your composure started to fracture.

It was unfair—how easily the decision had been spoken. How easily your freedom was cast away. You turned a corner too quickly, nearly brushing past a passing attendant, but you didn’t stop to apologize. You couldn’t. If you did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to even speak clearly.

By the time you reached your wing, your hands shook. You pushed your door open and stepped inside your room, letting it close behind you. Your breath came unevenly as you crossed your room, ripping off the corset that strangled your ribcage.

Then you stopped.

Something was there, laying on your windowsill.

A delicate envelope, sealed with a black wax seal. There was no name nor address on the envelope, absolutely nothing to indicate who the person who wrote this was. It wasn’t a royal seal or one of your father’s court, it wasn’t from anyone that should be able to reach you.

You furrowed your brows, lifting the envelope in the direction of light shining through your open window. You picked open the seal and unfolded the piece of paper inside.

The parchment was smooth, smoother than any paper you’ve ever touched. The ink was dark and deliberate, the handwriting completely flawless. Your fingers tightened slightly at the edges as you began to scan the words.

My princess,

If you are reading this, I’m assuming you are alone. Completely alone.

I have spent the better part of today attempting to convince myself that what happened last night was nothing more than a pleasant distraction. Yet, I haven’t been able to get my mind off of you since you left me under that willow tree last night.

It is a rather humiliating thing to admit, considering we have scarcely known each other a day and you’re betrothed, but every thought seems to find its way back to you. I remember the sound of your voice more clearly than conversations I have held for years. I remember the way your lips felt against my own. Most troubling of all, I remember how reluctant I was to let you go.

I should be satisfied with one single evening and leave it as one fond memory, I’ve tried but I’ve failed miserably. I find myself wondering what you are doing at this very moment. Whether you’ve even thought of me or that kiss at all.

Perhaps I’m a fool. If so, indulge me in one more act of foolishness.

Meet me tonight at dusk on the east side of your palace, near the hidden lakeside pavilion. If you do not come, I’ll accept that I’ve imagined something more than what it really was.

If you do come, I wish for the chance to get to know you beyond a stolen evening and mask. Until then, I remain hopelessly distracted by the thought of you.

There was no name on the note but you knew who it was from, Geto. A sigh escaped your lips as you massaged your temples, the folded parchment resting in your lap. You should have thrown it into the fireplace, that would’ve been the sensible thing to do. Instead, your fingers traced the edges of the envelope, lingering on the wax seal he had perfectly placed just for you.

Something in your stomach fluttered at that thought.

Curiosity won, despite your clear efforts to fight it back. You unfolded the paper once again, your eyes drifting over his elegant handwriting.

You pressed your lips together, staring at the words. The man had known you for less than a day, yet the words felt painfully sincere and intimate. The corners of your mouth betrayed you with a faint, giddy smile.

Your smile drifted as reality set upon your shoulders. Your father would never approve, your husband certainly wouldn’t. Despite these circumstances, your thoughts drifted to that little pavilion past the east wing of your palace.

A knock sounding from your door interrupted your thoughts. “One second!” You shouted, stuffing the note under your pillow.

“It’s me, your highness,” Nanami informed. “May I come in?”

“Yep!” You replied, shuffling to act like you were busy with something.

Nanami stepped inside your room, shutting the door as gently as possible. “I’ve come to inform you that you have brunch with Prince Gojo in roughly 20 minutes,” he told, briefly glancing at the watch on his wrist. You huffed, giving him a look that told Nanami you’d rather do anything else.

“It’s mandatory.”

“I know,” you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s fine, really. I just hope they have my favorite fruit tarts.”

“I’m positive they couldn’t forget again after the fit you threw last year,” Nanami joked, still standing awkwardly near your door.

“I was having a bad day,” you defended, snorting lightly. “Will you sit down somewhere and stop looking so out of place?” You said with a laugh.

“I’ll have to be going soon, I have other duties beside your well being, your highness,” he added, the faintest hint of amusement hidden in his voice.

A quiet disappointment settled in your chest before you could stop it. “Of course,” you continued, “are you ever going to stop with the formalities, Ken?”

One of Nanami’s brows quirked up, “No.”

You groaned, palming your face in your hand. “Come on, we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“You are still a princess.”

You sneered at him, “You didn’t use titles when I was 13.”

“You also used to hide frogs in my desk when you were 13,” he deadpanned. You gasped playfully, clutching your chest. “That happened once!”

“It happened over three times.”

“Allegedly,” you added, shaking your head in disapproval. Nanami sighed, though there was no real irritation behind it.

“Regardless, your highness. Some habits are difficult to break.”

You folded your arms across your chest. “And calling me by my title every other sentence isn’t a habit?”

“It is,” he faintly shrugged.

“Then break that one?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“You won’t.”

A faint smile appeared on his tired face, “No, I won’t.” The answer came so quickly that you couldn’t help but laugh in his face.

For a brief moment, the unease that had followed you since the meeting with your father eased from your shoulders. Nanami had always possessed a strange talent for grounding you, even when he was being impossibly stubborn.

His expression softened slightly. “Now, I suggest you start getting ready for your brunch. Looks like I’ve cut down your time to 15 minutes.”

The reminder was enough to make the warmth leave your chest. “Right.”

“It’ll be okay,” he kindly said before leaving you alone in your room. A frustrated sigh escaped you, but you were grateful none of your maids had rushed in to help you get ready.

Inside your mind, you were already refusing to put on any corset for the brunch. Your mother would just have to suck it up. She always insisted that you wear one daily, to ‘keep up your look’. Quite frankly, you thought it was unnecessary and uncomfortable.

You scurried to your wardrobe, skimming through dresses. Soft fabrics brushed against your fingertips as you passed gowns in muted pastels, deep jewel tones, and the occasional elaborate piece reserved for court appearances you’d rather avoid.

Despite the copious amount of clothing you had, nothing felt quite right. Your fingers paused on a lighter dress tucked slightly behind the others. It was simpler than the rest: a soft green with faint gold threaded along the hem and sleeves. Looked rather comfortable too.

You pulled it free and held it up against yourself in your mirror, quietly admiring the way the green looked against your skin tone. The neckline was modest, the sleeves short and breathable. It wasn’t meant to impress anyone and that was enough comfort for you to throw it on your body.

You dressed quickly, smoothing the fabric as you went. With a press of a couple pins in your hair, you were ready for a torturous breakfast. A sudden knock at your door pulled you from your appearance.

“Come in!” You called, smoothing down your dress once more. It was Shoko, the head maid, who came quietly into your bedroom.

“Your highness, I’ve came in here to make sure you’re ready for the brunch with the Prince,” she informed softly. “Are you?”

Shoko Ieiri was your personal favorite servant, her calm demeanor and sharp wit made her a welcome presence among the suffocating formalities of palace life. She reminded you of an older sister you’d never had, like someone you can go to no matter what.

“Yes, I’ve gotten ready myself today,” you replied, sending a soft smile in her direction.

Her eyes lit up slightly at your appearance. “The dress is beautiful, your highness,” she said, coming up behind you in your mirror. “You’ve grown so much, I can’t believe you’re married now.”

You looked down at the solid gold ring that sat on your ring finger. A soft sigh escaped your lips, “Me neither.”

Shoko frowned, brushing aside a piece of hair from your forehead. Somehow, she knew everything you were feeling by one look. Maybe it was the friendship you two harbored since you were little children, clueless of titles that determined your lifestyle.

“Come on,” she muttered. “It’s time to go.” She gave you one last understanding glance before pulling the chamber door open. The chatter of servants and the distant echo of footsteps instantly flooded into the room, reminding you once again that your brief moment of solitude would have to come to an end.

You nodded your head and stepped out your room, greeting the guards outside of your room with a smile. They immediately straightened, bowing in synchronization.

The palace halls were already alive with the daily bustle you were used to. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, spilling golden patterns across marble floors. You winced as the light hit your face, holding up your hand to shield your eyes.

You smoothed your dress as you walked, trying to ignore the small flutter of nerves in your chest. It was only brunch with Gojo. Your husband. A simple meal between two betrothed strangers.

You had actually spoken to Gojo a few times before being engaged, all of your interactions being at lavish galas and balls. It was enough to know he possessed an effortless charm to every woman that even glanced his way. He was so quick with a joke or flirtatious remark, so it wasn’t a surprise when your father announced the engagement(considering the massive amount of rivalry between your father and Gojo’s father).

The rivalry had been brewing for decades, passed down from generation to generation. It finally ended up blowing over last winter when a violent dispute over trade routes erupted into open conflict. Soldiers amassed over each border as whispers of war echoed through every noble court.

Neither kingdom could afford it, even if Gojo’s kingdom was more wealthy than yours. That winter had been significantly unforgiving, harvests were poor, villagers were hypothermic and dying from famine. Both crowns knew that prolonged conflict wouldn’t do them any good, so peace became the only sensible pass.

The peace treaty was drafted within days, its final condition written in the most elegant ink at the bottom of the parchment. A marriage: his eldest one and your father’s only daughter. Two signatures were all it took to end years of hostility. And with them, your future had been decided.

The dining hall doors loomed over you. Two well equipped guards stood perched in front of them, awaiting for your arrival. You bowed briefly, sparing a quick smile.

“Your highness,” they said, perfectly in sync. The towering doors swung open, revealing the dining hall bathed in gentle sunshine. Unlike the grand banquets held in this very room, only a small section of the endless table had been prepared. Fine porcelain rested atop crisp ivory linens, polished silver gleamed beneath crystal glasses, and an assortment of fresh fruit, warm pastries, honey, cheeses, and tea had been carefully arranged between bouquets of white lilies.

It almost felt…intimate.

You had to bite back a scowl as your gaze drifted to the lone figure sitting at one of the two seats that had been prepared. Gojo lounged comfortably in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the carved wooden armrest as if the whole palace belonged to him. His white hair sat unruly atop his head, almost the complete opposite of the way you saw him last night.

At the sound of the doors closing, those unmistakable cerulean eyes lifted to meet yours. A familiar grin spread across his face. “There you are,” he smirked. “I was beginning to think you’d escaped through a window.”

You couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at your lips. “I’m afraid the guards would’ve noticed,” you added softly, trailing across the dining hall.

“They do tend to ruin all the fun, hm?” He said, rising to his feet. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled out the seat across from him. “You look…beautiful,” he complimented, raking his eyes over your figure.

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“Come,” he instructed. “I’ve been instructed not to begin without you, and I’ve already spent the last ten minutes arguing with the chef over whether it’s acceptable to eat pastries before the main course.”

“And who won?” You asked, sitting down on the chair he pulled out.

“The chef,” he sighed dramatically. “For now.”

You bit back a chuckle that threatened to escape you, shaking your head slightly. “Right.”

“Well,” he said, lounging back into his chair as a servant poured tea into his cup. “I think it’s time I get to know you, yeah?”

You blinked.

“All I have is observations,” he explained. “I have no clue who my wife is,” he added, his expression softening just enough for you to notice.

A soft sigh escaped from your lips, knowing deep inside that everything he said was right. You would have to get to know your husband sooner or later.

“What do you wish to know?” You asked plainly.

“Hmm.” He rested his chin on his hand, tilting his head as he studied you with exaggeration. It wasn’t long until his eyes lit up, like a lightbulb being turned on inside his brain. “Let’s start with an easy one! What’s your favorite color?”

You snorted at his enthusiasm, this is the man who has women from all over fawning over him? “I don’t have one,” you deadpanned.

His smile faltered. “What?”

“I said,” you cleared your throat. “I don’t have one.”

“That’s impossible, everyone has a favorite color,” he defended. “Like, my favorite color is blue, obviously.”

“It’s definitely not impossible, I’m living proof?” You shrugged, taking a bite of a pastry.

“There has to be one that stands out from all the others.”

You rolled his eyes at his stubbornness. “Okay, fine.”

He posture straightened instantly, eager to hear your answer. You could practically see an invisible tail wagging behind him.

“If I had to choose, it would be a light green,” you told.

“You look like a green person.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You defended, squinting your eyes at him.

“You just look like you like green.”

“Okay, forget it.” You said, rolling your eyes(though the smile on your lips contradicted that). “It’s only fair that I get to ask you something about yourself now.”

“Excellent,” he spread his arms dramatically. “Ask away, I have nothing to hide.”

“Nothing?”

“…very little.”

You raised a skeptical brow.

He sighed in defeat. “Nothing important.”

A quiet laugh escaped you. You rested your chin lightly against your palm, pretending to consider your options. There were countless questions you could ask. About his kingdom. His childhood. Whether he had wanted this marriage any more than you had.

You took one last bite of your pastry before dusting the crumbs from your fingertips. “What are some of your hobbies?”

His ivory lashes dusted over his eyes, blinking at you. “That’s your question?”

You nodded. “It seems reasonable.”

“I was wanting something scandalous,” he sighed dramatically. “Well, one of my favorite things to do is fencing. My father insisted on me learning before I could even spell.”

You faintly smiled, imagining the arrogant man as a little naive boy. “I’ve heard you’re quite good.” Despite the rivalry between your kingdoms, rumors never failed to spread to your land. Satoru Gojo—a universal fencing champion, being one of many.

“I’d certainly hope so after all these years,” he blurted, dragging a hand through his hair. He began counting on his fingers. “I enjoy riding whenever I can escape the palace, reading—only about things I don’t already know, and I also dabble in archery every now and then.”

“You read?”

He gave you an exaggerated look of offense. “Yeah, how shocking.”

“I just can’t imagine you sitting quietly with a book in your hand,” you snickered. “The more you know.”

“My parents couldn’t either,” he agreed, earning another snicker from you. “What are your hobbies?” He countered, sipping off his tea.

You sighed in thought. “I love to explore the palace—all the places left undiscovered,” you informed, fiddling with your hands. “I also enjoy reading poetry.”

Gojo rested his face in his hand, listening attentively as you went on about your hobbies. “Exploring the palace?” He asked. “is that what you were doing last night?”

Your hands stilled.

“I was.”

A knowing smile tugged at his lips, yet he didn’t seem to comment on whatever plagued him. “I thought so,” he replied. “You’ll have to take me with you sometime, yeah?”

“We’ll see,” you countered, sipping off your tea. “Will the entree be ready soon? I’m starving.” You said, trying your best to change the topic away from last night’s events.

As if on cue, the grand doors opened, it seemed like the universe was on your side today. A line of servants in practiced formation, each carrying a platter of arranged food. The fragrant aroma of freshly baked bread, roasted herbs, and butter drifted through the room at their arrival.

Gojo inhaled dramatically, “perfect timing.”

The servants carefully replaced the breakfast pastries with the main course, setting steaming plates before the two of you.

“Thank you so much, it looks amazing,” you said to the servants with the biggest smile you could conjure up. “I was beginning to think I’d have to raid the kitchens,” Gojo admitted.

You glanced at him over the rim of your cup. “Would a prince truly do that?” You replied.

“Oh, absolutely.”

You almost laughed. “And what would the Royal staff say about that?”

“They’d sigh,” he answered without missing a beat. “Then make me a plate anyway.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, “I can’t say I’m surprised.” You grabbed your silverware, slicing into the honey-glazed ham on your platter.

The conversation drifted easily after that, and you can’t say you were upset with it. Between bites, Gojo recounted a disastrous experience with his horse which ended in him having a broken leg and cracked ego, while you shared stories of getting lost around the palace. The longer you spoke, the less the silence between you seemed forced.

Before either of you realized it, the servants had already cleared away all empty dishes and replaced them with tea. Gojo leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. “I think that was the best meal I’ve had in weeks.”

You scoffed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’re from the wealthiest kingdom, you’re telling me they don’t give you good meals?”

Despite the wealth your kingdom carries, the Gojo clan has remained at the top for centuries. Their lands stretched farther than any realms, their ports overflowing with trade. The Gojo trading company logo even spread to your own kingdom, stamped on important crates and merchant ships. It was a quiet reminder that the Gojos’ reach extended far beyond their borders—whether your father liked it or not.

Gojo chuckled, peering at you through his cerulean eyes. “Oh, the food is excellent.”

“Then what’s the complaint?” You sneered, tilting your head. Was he seriously that spoiled?

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I never said it wasn’t good.”

“You implied it, no?”

“I merely said it was the best meal I’ve had in weeks,” he smirked, enjoying the feeling of proving you wrong. He bit into a fried croissant, closing his eyes dramatically.

“It tastes better when you’re enjoying it with someone.”

The words were so casually spoken that you almost missed them. You swallowed, “How smooth of you, Gojo.”

“I beg of you, address me as Satoru,” he pleaded, giving you a look of satirical sadness.

You snorted, rolling your eyes with no intention of hostility. “It doesn’t work that easy,” you replied almost immediately.

He laughed, unfazed by your words. “So,” he said, taking another bite of his croissant. “May I accompany you on one of your adventures, wife?”

You blinked.

“Don’t push your luck,” you said with a knowing look. “And don’t call me that.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe,” he smiled, glancing up at you. “You’re my wife, can I not call you that?”

You grimaced, the title still sounding foreign from his lips. “It’s just…weird, y’know?” After getting to see him past the facade he presents, it felt easier to talk to him about the marriage—like he would listen. The charming prince you had expected was still there, but the calm interior he refused to show to the public was beginning to bloom in front of you.

“We’ve spent our entire lives as children of rival kings, and then overnight I’m just suddenly your wife?” You offered a small, hesitant smile.

His expression softened, yet you didn’t feel pitied by his gaze. “I suppose it will take time getting used to.” He gave a thoughtful hum, absentmindedly tracing the rim of his teacup. “I won’t force it.”

You blinked at him.

“When it stops feeling strange,” he continued, “I’ll call you my wife without you making that face.”

“What face?”

“That one you’re making right now.”

You gasped softly, immediately relaxing. “Whatever.” He laughed, a genuine laugh that you hadn’t heard from him all morning. It was enough to draw a smile from you in return.

By the time the last of the dishes had been cleared, the warmth of the dining hall had begun to fade into something quieter.

Gojo rose from his chair, adjusting the sleeves of his coat. “Well,” he said, glancing toward the windows where sunlight poured over the gardens. “I have a proposal.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Just give me a moment, I beg!” He exclaimed.

“Fine.”

“Come riding with me,” he proposed.

“Riding? Now?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why not? Looks like it’s the perfect time,” he stated, referring to the white sunshine that almost blinded you. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

You tried to hide your smile and miserably failed. There was something almost childish about his excitement, like someone who had spent too long being expected to act like a future king and rarely got to simply enjoy himself. It was cute, you had to admit.

“Besides,” he added, offering you his arm, “you can’t explore the hidden corners of the palace without knowing the land surrounding it.”

You raised a brow, “That’s your excuse?”

“Of course.”

You shook your head but nevertheless, accepted his arm. “Fine.”

His eyes brightened, “Perfect.”

His touch outside the ball felt like something new on your skin. There wasn’t hundreds of wealthy eyes scrutinizing you, nor were there any expectations on how you should act or what you should say. His arm rested between your own, holding you close to him. A slow heat rose up your neck and to your cheek. You tilted your head away from him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the change yet something inside told you he would.

The man walking beside you was still the same prince who charmed every room he entered, but without the pressure of a ballroom surrounding him, he seemed more like a human being.

The royal stables were quieter than you expected. The smell of fresh hay and leather filled the air as horses shifted in their stalls, greeting the familiar voices of the stable hands. Gojo seemed completely at ease and in his element in the stables. Somehow, that made him actually interesting.

“You look surprised,” he noted as he approached his horse.

“I suppose I am.”

“Why?”

“I just didn’t expect you to be so…comfortable here, I guess it’s nice to see,” you admitted, running your free hand over the horse’s mane.

He smiled boyishly, “I just get to be alone out here, nobody to impress,” he explained, his eyes lingering where your hand petted the horse. “I don’t have to be the crown prince, even if it’s just for a little while.”

There was an honesty in his voice that caught you off guard. “You don’t enjoy all the attention?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

He let out a soft laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, the attention is nice,” he said, moving the horse out of its stall. “Expectations are the difficult part, I’m sure you’re familiar with them.”

You snorted. “Tell me about it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the horses shifting in their stalls and the occasional tweet from a bird flying past.

Gojo soon broke the silence.

“You know,” he said, fastening his gloves, “I think everyone forgets that princes and princesses are people before their titles.”

“They expect us to become exactly who they want us to be,” you agreed. He met your gaze, a faint smile returning.

“Well, let’s get going. I want to be back before sunset,” he said, guiding the horse out of the stables. The reminder of sunset made your steps falter. Your thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Geto. In merely a few hours he would be expecting you, in that pavilion, to betray your kingdom. You still were debating on going. Despite the consequences that came with it, you had regretfully considered it. He made you feel something—like you were seen past your title.

“You coming?”

Gojo’s voice gently pulled you back to the present.

You blinked, realizing you stopped in the middle of the stable aisle. “Sorry,” you muttered, offering an apologetic smile. “I got distracted.”

He studied you for a brief moment, concern flickering across his features before his usual easy smile returned. “Well,” he said, swinging effortlessly onto the saddle, “I promise I’ll make this ride interesting enough to keep your attention.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m sure you can,” he said as he effortlessly mounted onto the horse. He settled onto the saddle before turning his attention toward you.

“Your hand,” he said, extending his gloved one.

“I can manage.”

“Humor me.”

You sighed before hesitatingly placing your hand in his. Before you could protest further, he pulled you upward with ease. For one brief, embarrassing moment, you lost your balance.

You yelped as his steady hand caught you, right at the waist. Your breath caught the moment his hand steadied against you, the warmth of him spreading against your skin.

“Easy, honey,” he chuckled. “I’ve got you.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you quickly straightened yourself on the saddle. “Let’s never speak of this again,” you uttered, choosing to ignore the term of endearment.

“My lips are sealed.”

“Wipe that smile off your face,” you scoffed.

“My apologies, ma’am,” he smirked, gathering the reins.

“You’re so impossible,” you huffed, instinctively grabbing onto his waist to steady yourself as the horse lurched into motion.

His laugh rumbled softly in front of you. “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

The horse carried the two of you away from the palace, leaving the manicured gardens and stone walls behind. Soon enough, the road narrowed into a winding trail swallowed by the forest.

Towering oaks and trees arched overhead, sunlight only peeking through the gaps to create abstract pieces of gold. Ferns and wildflowers carpeted the forest floor, while ivy climbed the trunks of ancient trees. The only sounds were the rhythmic thud of hooves against the dirt path and the steady breath of Gojo.

It was secluded enough that the outside world seemed to disappear. No courtiers prying into your business or expectations to uphold, only the stretch of woodland and the surrounding river.

Gojo slowed the horse to an easy walk, breathing in the crisp scent of pine and damp earth. “This,” he said quietly, “is my favorite part of the kingdom.”

You found yourself smiling as you looked around, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. “I can see why.”

The filtered sunlight caught in his pale hair, painting an ethereal image of Satoru against the emerald leaves overhead. Bathed in ribbons of gold, he looked nothing like when you first saw him. You were beginning to see him like the boy he truly was instead of the renowned prince he painted himself as. Somehow, you found it quite beautiful.

The rest of the ride passed without urgency. You wandered wherever the forest path carried you, crossing narrow streams and weaving between towering pines as the afternoon melted into evening. Ever so often, Gojo would point out something that reminded him of something—usually of his childhood.

You found yourself listening more than speaking. Not because you had nothing to say, but because you liked hearing him talk.

Before long, the sun began its slow descent, staining the sky with shades of amber and rose. The forest glowed beneath the fading light, and the familiar silhouette of the palace came into view beyond the trees.

“I suppose we should start heading back,” Gojo murmured.

“Before they send out a search party?” You snorted.

He laughed along with you. “Your father probably already has.”

“Yikes,” you replied humorously. You smiled to yourself as the horse carried you to the palace stables.

Your day had begun with brunch alongside a stranger—one you had been convinced you would dislike. Now, as you arrived back at the stables, you found yourself smiling at his ridiculous remarks and horrible flirting instead of rolling your eyes. Perhaps, that was the most unexpected of it all.

Somewhere between the forest and the palace, Gojo ceased to seem like a thorn in your side. He was simply…Gojo.

And though you would never admit it aloud, you found yourself looking forward to the next conversation you would inevitably share.

©satorussolace all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, translate, or modify my works.

@fanfic-consumer77 @dilucsgfriend @pr3ttiesz @nixxy298 @spankmydepression

[satorussolace]

GOLDEN BROWN

With the political crisis your kingdom is in, your father arranges you into an unwanted marriage with the notorious Prince Gojo—an elegant solution to keep two powerful kingdoms from tearing each other apart. Despite your hopes for the kind of love you’ve always dreamt of, Prince Gojo is everything the rumors said he was: lustful, untouchable, and emotionally closed off in ways you couldn’t begin to fathom. And when the suffocation of court life finally drives you beyond ballroom walls and polished smiles—you find yourself wandering in the palace gardens. It is there in those gardens, that you find your true salvation in a man who looks at you in the way you’ve always craved—like a human being rather than a title.

pairings: suguru geto x princess!reader x prince!gojo

content/warnings: renaissance au, arranged marriages, toxic relationships, angst, tension tension tension, the patriarchy, love triangle, infidelity, morally grey characters, reader is in an arranged marriage with satoru, emotional manipulation, political drama, fluff, deception, not super accurate to the renaissance era

notes: fanart is by ladycapuccino on Pinterest! I always think of the 2015 Cinderella movie when writing this fic like it’s so fucking perfect. Sorry this is shorter than I expected but I was dealing with some preeetty bad writers block

<<chapter one — masterlist — playlist — chapter three>>

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Soft morning light spilled across your room in warm gold, but it did nothing to soothe the lingering unease in your chest. You had barely closed your eyes before the memory of the garden resurfaced, causing you a particularly restless night. You sat up slowly in bed, throwing off the heavy blankets.

For a moment, you simply sat there, enveloped by the mocking silence of your chamber. A sigh escaped you at the sound of a soft knock at your door. You just woke up and you were already needed for something.

“Your highness,” a voice called gently from the other side. “His majesty has requested you.”

Your stomach tightened immediately. “Now?” You asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Yes, your highness. He said it was urgent.”

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to steady. Of course it was urgent. You rose from the bed, shakily smoothing down your night gown and trying to ignore the way your thoughts immediately spiraled. Whatever your father wanted, it couldn’t be worse than what your imagination was suggesting.

He couldn’t have possibly found out. Gojo hadn’t pushed anymore after the ball, and Geto certainly wasn’t foolish enough to announce what had happened. The garden was secluded, hidden behind hedges and vines. No one had seen you.

The reassurance did little to settle your nerves. As you dressed for the day, your father’s summons lingered at the forefront of your mind, turning every possibility into something malevolent.

You left your chambers and made your way through the palace corridors. Servants hurried past with food trays and armfuls of linens, bowing politely as you passed. Normally, the familiar morning bustle would be comforting but today it only made you feel more exposed.

By the time you reached your father’s wing of the palace, your stomach was twisted into knots. You sounded a soft knock on those massive wooden doors, the juxtaposition of the sound against the grand doors almost feeling laughable.

“Enter.”

You stepped inside, offering a respectful bow. Your father sat behind his desk, his posture as rigid as his personality. No matter how old you’ve gotten, the fear that you harbor for your father had never gone away. Whispers of the king during wartime followed him for years, weaving themselves into court gossip and soldiers’ tales alike. They spoke of a ruler whose mercy was scarce and whose judgment was absolute. A king who never hesitated to take the life of anyone who stepped in his way.

As a child, the truth of those stories had terrified you.

As an adult, they still did.

“Father,” you greeted quietly, somewhat afraid that your responses would anger him.

His sharp eyes lifted from the documents scattered across his desk. “Sit.”

The command was calm, yet you obeyed without question, lowering yourself into the chair opposite of him. A heavy silence stilled between you as your father studied you for a moment, his expression as unreadable as his eyes.

“There is a matter we need to discuss.”

The seriousness in his tone pulled the knot in your stomach even tighter than before. You straightened slightly, “W-What is it?”

He folded his hands atop his desk, pursing his lips lightly. “Our negotiations with the northern kingdom have concluded.”

You paused, fighting the urge to break your poker face. “I wasn’t aware they were ongoing.”

“They are no longer.”

Something about the way he said it made a razor sharp feeling of unease crawl up your spine. Your father leaned back in his chair, never once looking away from you. “You will be relocating there within the next month.”

The words landed with crushing force, your throat tightening painfully like something was lodged inside. “…I’m sorry?”

“You heard me,” he declared, his expression never faltering as he looked at you like you were nothing more than some poor servant girl.

Your heart sank, within a month you would leave behind everything you’ve ever known. Your palace, your bedroom, your precious garden. You felt small compared to him, your word meant absolutely nothing to him. There was no other option but to obey, he wouldn’t even think twice about saying no to a compromise.

“Okay,” you whispered, staring down at the floor like it could swallow you up and save you from this moment.

“You may leave,” your father ordered, sparing you one last look before focusing back on the hundreds of documents scattered around his desk.

You stood up, hesitating in the door way. You sulked like a little girl, the weight of his words hung down on your shoulders like two heavy stones. You let out a shaky exhale, two small teardrops escaping before you could blink them away. Your fingers curled on the doorknob before moving out of his study.

Your footsteps felt heavier on the way back to your chambers, everything blurred together like a color swatch on one of your royal portraits. Within the safety of distance, your composure started to fracture.

It was unfair—how easily the decision had been spoken. How easily your freedom was cast away. You turned a corner too quickly, nearly brushing past a passing attendant, but you didn’t stop to apologize. You couldn’t. If you did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to even speak clearly.

By the time you reached your wing, your hands shook. You pushed your door open and stepped inside your room, letting it close behind you. Your breath came unevenly as you crossed your room, ripping off the corset that strangled your ribcage.

Then you stopped.

Something was there, laying on your windowsill.

A delicate envelope, sealed with a black wax seal. There was no name nor address on the envelope, absolutely nothing to indicate who the person who wrote this was. It wasn’t a royal seal or one of your father’s court, it wasn’t from anyone that should be able to reach you.

You furrowed your brows, lifting the envelope in the direction of light shining through your open window. You picked open the seal and unfolded the piece of paper inside.

The parchment was smooth, smoother than any paper you’ve ever touched. The ink was dark and deliberate, the handwriting completely flawless. Your fingers tightened slightly at the edges as you began to scan the words.

My princess,

If you are reading this, I’m assuming you are alone. Completely alone.

I have spent the better part of today attempting to convince myself that what happened last night was nothing more than a pleasant distraction. Yet, I haven’t been able to get my mind off of you since you left me under that willow tree last night.

It is a rather humiliating thing to admit, considering we have scarcely known each other a day and you’re betrothed, but every thought seems to find its way back to you. I remember the sound of your voice more clearly than conversations I have held for years. I remember the way your lips felt against my own. Most troubling of all, I remember how reluctant I was to let you go.

I should be satisfied with one single evening and leave it as one fond memory, I’ve tried but I’ve failed miserably. I find myself wondering what you are doing at this very moment. Whether you’ve even thought of me or that kiss at all.

Perhaps I’m a fool. If so, indulge me in one more act of foolishness.

Meet me tonight at dusk on the east side of your palace, near the hidden lakeside pavilion. If you do not come, I’ll accept that I’ve imagined something more than what it really was.

If you do come, I wish for the chance to get to know you beyond a stolen evening and mask. Until then, I remain hopelessly distracted by the thought of you.

There was no name on the note but you knew who it was from, Geto. A sigh escaped your lips as you massaged your temples, the folded parchment resting in your lap. You should have thrown it into the fireplace, that would’ve been the sensible thing to do. Instead, your fingers traced the edges of the envelope, lingering on the wax seal he had perfectly placed just for you.

Something in your stomach fluttered at that thought.

Curiosity won, despite your clear efforts to fight it back. You unfolded the paper once again, your eyes drifting over his elegant handwriting.

You pressed your lips together, staring at the words. The man had known you for less than a day, yet the words felt painfully sincere and intimate. The corners of your mouth betrayed you with a faint, giddy smile.

Your smile drifted as reality set upon your shoulders. Your father would never approve, your husband certainly wouldn’t. Despite these circumstances, your thoughts drifted to that little pavilion past the east wing of your palace.

A knock sounding from your door interrupted your thoughts. “One second!” You shouted, stuffing the note under your pillow.

“It’s me, your highness,” Nanami informed. “May I come in?”

“Yep!” You replied, shuffling to act like you were busy with something.

Nanami stepped inside your room, shutting the door as gently as possible. “I’ve come to inform you that you have brunch with Prince Gojo in roughly 20 minutes,” he told, briefly glancing at the watch on his wrist. You huffed, giving him a look that told Nanami you’d rather do anything else.

“It’s mandatory.”

“I know,” you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s fine, really. I just hope they have my favorite fruit tarts.”

“I’m positive they couldn’t forget again after the fit you threw last year,” Nanami joked, still standing awkwardly near your door.

“I was having a bad day,” you defended, snorting lightly. “Will you sit down somewhere and stop looking so out of place?” You said with a laugh.

“I’ll have to be going soon, I have other duties beside your well being, your highness,” he added, the faintest hint of amusement hidden in his voice.

A quiet disappointment settled in your chest before you could stop it. “Of course,” you continued, “are you ever going to stop with the formalities, Ken?”

One of Nanami’s brows quirked up, “No.”

You groaned, palming your face in your hand. “Come on, we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“You are still a princess.”

You sneered at him, “You didn’t use titles when I was 13.”

“You also used to hide frogs in my desk when you were 13,” he deadpanned. You gasped playfully, clutching your chest. “That happened once!”

“It happened over three times.”

“Allegedly,” you added, shaking your head in disapproval. Nanami sighed, though there was no real irritation behind it.

“Regardless, your highness. Some habits are difficult to break.”

You folded your arms across your chest. “And calling me by my title every other sentence isn’t a habit?”

“It is,” he faintly shrugged.

“Then break that one?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“You won’t.”

A faint smile appeared on his tired face, “No, I won’t.” The answer came so quickly that you couldn’t help but laugh in his face.

For a brief moment, the unease that had followed you since the meeting with your father eased from your shoulders. Nanami had always possessed a strange talent for grounding you, even when he was being impossibly stubborn.

His expression softened slightly. “Now, I suggest you start getting ready for your brunch. Looks like I’ve cut down your time to 15 minutes.”

The reminder was enough to make the warmth leave your chest. “Right.”

“It’ll be okay,” he kindly said before leaving you alone in your room. A frustrated sigh escaped you, but you were grateful none of your maids had rushed in to help you get ready.

Inside your mind, you were already refusing to put on any corset for the brunch. Your mother would just have to suck it up. She always insisted that you wear one daily, to ‘keep up your look’. Quite frankly, you thought it was unnecessary and uncomfortable.

You scurried to your wardrobe, skimming through dresses. Soft fabrics brushed against your fingertips as you passed gowns in muted pastels, deep jewel tones, and the occasional elaborate piece reserved for court appearances you’d rather avoid.

Despite the copious amount of clothing you had, nothing felt quite right. Your fingers paused on a lighter dress tucked slightly behind the others. It was simpler than the rest: a soft green with faint gold threaded along the hem and sleeves. Looked rather comfortable too.

You pulled it free and held it up against yourself in your mirror, quietly admiring the way the green looked against your skin tone. The neckline was modest, the sleeves short and breathable. It wasn’t meant to impress anyone and that was enough comfort for you to throw it on your body.

You dressed quickly, smoothing the fabric as you went. With a press of a couple pins in your hair, you were ready for a torturous breakfast. A sudden knock at your door pulled you from your appearance.

“Come in!” You called, smoothing down your dress once more. It was Shoko, the head maid, who came quietly into your bedroom.

“Your highness, I’ve came in here to make sure you’re ready for the brunch with the Prince,” she informed softly. “Are you?”

Shoko Ieiri was your personal favorite servant, her calm demeanor and sharp wit made her a welcome presence among the suffocating formalities of palace life. She reminded you of an older sister you’d never had, like someone you can go to no matter what.

“Yes, I’ve gotten ready myself today,” you replied, sending a soft smile in her direction.

Her eyes lit up slightly at your appearance. “The dress is beautiful, your highness,” she said, coming up behind you in your mirror. “You’ve grown so much, I can’t believe you’re married now.”

You looked down at the solid gold ring that sat on your ring finger. A soft sigh escaped your lips, “Me neither.”

Shoko frowned, brushing aside a piece of hair from your forehead. Somehow, she knew everything you were feeling by one look. Maybe it was the friendship you two harbored since you were little children, clueless of titles that determined your lifestyle.

“Come on,” she muttered. “It’s time to go.” She gave you one last understanding glance before pulling the chamber door open. The chatter of servants and the distant echo of footsteps instantly flooded into the room, reminding you once again that your brief moment of solitude would have to come to an end.

You nodded your head and stepped out your room, greeting the guards outside of your room with a smile. They immediately straightened, bowing in synchronization.

The palace halls were already alive with the daily bustle you were used to. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, spilling golden patterns across marble floors. You winced as the light hit your face, holding up your hand to shield your eyes.

You smoothed your dress as you walked, trying to ignore the small flutter of nerves in your chest. It was only brunch with Gojo. Your husband. A simple meal between two betrothed strangers.

You had actually spoken to Gojo a few times before being engaged, all of your interactions being at lavish galas and balls. It was enough to know he possessed an effortless charm to every woman that even glanced his way. He was so quick with a joke or flirtatious remark, so it wasn’t a surprise when your father announced the engagement(considering the massive amount of rivalry between your father and Gojo’s father).

The rivalry had been brewing for decades, passed down from generation to generation. It finally ended up blowing over last winter when a violent dispute over trade routes erupted into open conflict. Soldiers amassed over each border as whispers of war echoed through every noble court.

Neither kingdom could afford it, even if Gojo’s kingdom was more wealthy than yours. That winter had been significantly unforgiving, harvests were poor, villagers were hypothermic and dying from famine. Both crowns knew that prolonged conflict wouldn’t do them any good, so peace became the only sensible pass.

The peace treaty was drafted within days, its final condition written in the most elegant ink at the bottom of the parchment. A marriage: his eldest one and your father’s only daughter. Two signatures were all it took to end years of hostility. And with them, your future had been decided.

The dining hall doors loomed over you. Two well equipped guards stood perched in front of them, awaiting for your arrival. You bowed briefly, sparing a quick smile.

“Your highness,” they said, perfectly in sync. The towering doors swung open, revealing the dining hall bathed in gentle sunshine. Unlike the grand banquets held in this very room, only a small section of the endless table had been prepared. Fine porcelain rested atop crisp ivory linens, polished silver gleamed beneath crystal glasses, and an assortment of fresh fruit, warm pastries, honey, cheeses, and tea had been carefully arranged between bouquets of white lilies.

It almost felt…intimate.

You had to bite back a scowl as your gaze drifted to the lone figure sitting at one of the two seats that had been prepared. Gojo lounged comfortably in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the carved wooden armrest as if the whole palace belonged to him. His white hair sat unruly atop his head, almost the complete opposite of the way you saw him last night.

At the sound of the doors closing, those unmistakable cerulean eyes lifted to meet yours. A familiar grin spread across his face. “There you are,” he smirked. “I was beginning to think you’d escaped through a window.”

You couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at your lips. “I’m afraid the guards would’ve noticed,” you added softly, trailing across the dining hall.

“They do tend to ruin all the fun, hm?” He said, rising to his feet. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled out the seat across from him. “You look…beautiful,” he complimented, raking his eyes over your figure.

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“Come,” he instructed. “I’ve been instructed not to begin without you, and I’ve already spent the last ten minutes arguing with the chef over whether it’s acceptable to eat pastries before the main course.”

“And who won?” You asked, sitting down on the chair he pulled out.

“The chef,” he sighed dramatically. “For now.”

You bit back a chuckle that threatened to escape you, shaking your head slightly. “Right.”

“Well,” he said, lounging back into his chair as a servant poured tea into his cup. “I think it’s time I get to know you, yeah?”

You blinked.

“All I have is observations,” he explained. “I have no clue who my wife is,” he added, his expression softening just enough for you to notice.

A soft sigh escaped from your lips, knowing deep inside that everything he said was right. You would have to get to know your husband sooner or later.

“What do you wish to know?” You asked plainly.

“Hmm.” He rested his chin on his hand, tilting his head as he studied you with exaggeration. It wasn’t long until his eyes lit up, like a lightbulb being turned on inside his brain. “Let’s start with an easy one! What’s your favorite color?”

You snorted at his enthusiasm, this is the man who has women from all over fawning over him? “I don’t have one,” you deadpanned.

His smile faltered. “What?”

“I said,” you cleared your throat. “I don’t have one.”

“That’s impossible, everyone has a favorite color,” he defended. “Like, my favorite color is blue, obviously.”

“It’s definitely not impossible, I’m living proof?” You shrugged, taking a bite of a pastry.

“There has to be one that stands out from all the others.”

You rolled his eyes at his stubbornness. “Okay, fine.”

He posture straightened instantly, eager to hear your answer. You could practically see an invisible tail wagging behind him.

“If I had to choose, it would be a light green,” you told.

“You look like a green person.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You defended, squinting your eyes at him.

“You just look like you like green.”

“Okay, forget it.” You said, rolling your eyes(though the smile on your lips contradicted that). “It’s only fair that I get to ask you something about yourself now.”

“Excellent,” he spread his arms dramatically. “Ask away, I have nothing to hide.”

“Nothing?”

“…very little.”

You raised a skeptical brow.

He sighed in defeat. “Nothing important.”

A quiet laugh escaped you. You rested your chin lightly against your palm, pretending to consider your options. There were countless questions you could ask. About his kingdom. His childhood. Whether he had wanted this marriage any more than you had.

You took one last bite of your pastry before dusting the crumbs from your fingertips. “What are some of your hobbies?”

His ivory lashes dusted over his eyes, blinking at you. “That’s your question?”

You nodded. “It seems reasonable.”

“I was wanting something scandalous,” he sighed dramatically. “Well, one of my favorite things to do is fencing. My father insisted on me learning before I could even spell.”

You faintly smiled, imagining the arrogant man as a little naive boy. “I’ve heard you’re quite good.” Despite the rivalry between your kingdoms, rumors never failed to spread to your land. Satoru Gojo—a universal fencing champion, being one of many.

“I’d certainly hope so after all these years,” he blurted, dragging a hand through his hair. He began counting on his fingers. “I enjoy riding whenever I can escape the palace, reading—only about things I don’t already know, and I also dabble in archery every now and then.”

“You read?”

He gave you an exaggerated look of offense. “Yeah, how shocking.”

“I just can’t imagine you sitting quietly with a book in your hand,” you snickered. “The more you know.”

“My parents couldn’t either,” he agreed, earning another snicker from you. “What are your hobbies?” He countered, sipping off his tea.

You sighed in thought. “I love to explore the palace—all the places left undiscovered,” you informed, fiddling with your hands. “I also enjoy reading poetry.”

Gojo rested his face in his hand, listening attentively as you went on about your hobbies. “Exploring the palace?” He asked. “is that what you were doing last night?”

Your hands stilled.

“I was.”

A knowing smile tugged at his lips, yet he didn’t seem to comment on whatever plagued him. “I thought so,” he replied. “You’ll have to take me with you sometime, yeah?”

“We’ll see,” you countered, sipping off your tea. “Will the entree be ready soon? I’m starving.” You said, trying your best to change the topic away from last night’s events.

As if on cue, the grand doors opened, it seemed like the universe was on your side today. A line of servants in practiced formation, each carrying a platter of arranged food. The fragrant aroma of freshly baked bread, roasted herbs, and butter drifted through the room at their arrival.

Gojo inhaled dramatically, “perfect timing.”

The servants carefully replaced the breakfast pastries with the main course, setting steaming plates before the two of you.

“Thank you so much, it looks amazing,” you said to the servants with the biggest smile you could conjure up. “I was beginning to think I’d have to raid the kitchens,” Gojo admitted.

You glanced at him over the rim of your cup. “Would a prince truly do that?” You replied.

“Oh, absolutely.”

You almost laughed. “And what would the Royal staff say about that?”

“They’d sigh,” he answered without missing a beat. “Then make me a plate anyway.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, “I can’t say I’m surprised.” You grabbed your silverware, slicing into the honey-glazed ham on your platter.

The conversation drifted easily after that, and you can’t say you were upset with it. Between bites, Gojo recounted a disastrous experience with his horse which ended in him having a broken leg and cracked ego, while you shared stories of getting lost around the palace. The longer you spoke, the less the silence between you seemed forced.

Before either of you realized it, the servants had already cleared away all empty dishes and replaced them with tea. Gojo leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. “I think that was the best meal I’ve had in weeks.”

You scoffed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’re from the wealthiest kingdom, you’re telling me they don’t give you good meals?”

Despite the wealth your kingdom carries, the Gojo clan has remained at the top for centuries. Their lands stretched farther than any realms, their ports overflowing with trade. The Gojo trading company logo even spread to your own kingdom, stamped on important crates and merchant ships. It was a quiet reminder that the Gojos’ reach extended far beyond their borders—whether your father liked it or not.

Gojo chuckled, peering at you through his cerulean eyes. “Oh, the food is excellent.”

“Then what’s the complaint?” You sneered, tilting your head. Was he seriously that spoiled?

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I never said it wasn’t good.”

“You implied it, no?”

“I merely said it was the best meal I’ve had in weeks,” he smirked, enjoying the feeling of proving you wrong. He bit into a fried croissant, closing his eyes dramatically.

“It tastes better when you’re enjoying it with someone.”

The words were so casually spoken that you almost missed them. You swallowed, “How smooth of you, Gojo.”

“I beg of you, address me as Satoru,” he pleaded, giving you a look of satirical sadness.

You snorted, rolling your eyes with no intention of hostility. “It doesn’t work that easy,” you replied almost immediately.

He laughed, unfazed by your words. “So,” he said, taking another bite of his croissant. “May I accompany you on one of your adventures, wife?”

You blinked.

“Don’t push your luck,” you said with a knowing look. “And don’t call me that.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe,” he smiled, glancing up at you. “You’re my wife, can I not call you that?”

You grimaced, the title still sounding foreign from his lips. “It’s just…weird, y’know?” After getting to see him past the facade he presents, it felt easier to talk to him about the marriage—like he would listen. The charming prince you had expected was still there, but the calm interior he refused to show to the public was beginning to bloom in front of you.

“We’ve spent our entire lives as children of rival kings, and then overnight I’m just suddenly your wife?” You offered a small, hesitant smile.

His expression softened, yet you didn’t feel pitied by his gaze. “I suppose it will take time getting used to.” He gave a thoughtful hum, absentmindedly tracing the rim of his teacup. “I won’t force it.”

You blinked at him.

“When it stops feeling strange,” he continued, “I’ll call you my wife without you making that face.”

“What face?”

“That one you’re making right now.”

You gasped softly, immediately relaxing. “Whatever.” He laughed, a genuine laugh that you hadn’t heard from him all morning. It was enough to draw a smile from you in return.

By the time the last of the dishes had been cleared, the warmth of the dining hall had begun to fade into something quieter.

Gojo rose from his chair, adjusting the sleeves of his coat. “Well,” he said, glancing toward the windows where sunlight poured over the gardens. “I have a proposal.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Just give me a moment, I beg!” He exclaimed.

“Fine.”

“Come riding with me,” he proposed.

“Riding? Now?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why not? Looks like it’s the perfect time,” he stated, referring to the white sunshine that almost blinded you. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

You tried to hide your smile and miserably failed. There was something almost childish about his excitement, like someone who had spent too long being expected to act like a future king and rarely got to simply enjoy himself. It was cute, you had to admit.

“Besides,” he added, offering you his arm, “you can’t explore the hidden corners of the palace without knowing the land surrounding it.”

You raised a brow, “That’s your excuse?”

“Of course.”

You shook your head but nevertheless, accepted his arm. “Fine.”

His eyes brightened, “Perfect.”

His touch outside the ball felt like something new on your skin. There wasn’t hundreds of wealthy eyes scrutinizing you, nor were there any expectations on how you should act or what you should say. His arm rested between your own, holding you close to him. A slow heat rose up your neck and to your cheek. You tilted your head away from him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the change yet something inside told you he would.

The man walking beside you was still the same prince who charmed every room he entered, but without the pressure of a ballroom surrounding him, he seemed more like a human being.

The royal stables were quieter than you expected. The smell of fresh hay and leather filled the air as horses shifted in their stalls, greeting the familiar voices of the stable hands. Gojo seemed completely at ease and in his element in the stables. Somehow, that made him actually interesting.

“You look surprised,” he noted as he approached his horse.

“I suppose I am.”

“Why?”

“I just didn’t expect you to be so…comfortable here, I guess it’s nice to see,” you admitted, running your free hand over the horse’s mane.

He smiled boyishly, “I just get to be alone out here, nobody to impress,” he explained, his eyes lingering where your hand petted the horse. “I don’t have to be the crown prince, even if it’s just for a little while.”

There was an honesty in his voice that caught you off guard. “You don’t enjoy all the attention?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

He let out a soft laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, the attention is nice,” he said, moving the horse out of its stall. “Expectations are the difficult part, I’m sure you’re familiar with them.”

You snorted. “Tell me about it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the horses shifting in their stalls and the occasional tweet from a bird flying past.

Gojo soon broke the silence.

“You know,” he said, fastening his gloves, “I think everyone forgets that princes and princesses are people before their titles.”

“They expect us to become exactly who they want us to be,” you agreed. He met your gaze, a faint smile returning.

“Well, let’s get going. I want to be back before sunset,” he said, guiding the horse out of the stables. The reminder of sunset made your steps falter. Your thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Geto. In merely a few hours he would be expecting you, in that pavilion, to betray your kingdom. You still were debating on going. Despite the consequences that came with it, you had regretfully considered it. He made you feel something—like you were seen past your title.

“You coming?”

Gojo’s voice gently pulled you back to the present.

You blinked, realizing you stopped in the middle of the stable aisle. “Sorry,” you muttered, offering an apologetic smile. “I got distracted.”

He studied you for a brief moment, concern flickering across his features before his usual easy smile returned. “Well,” he said, swinging effortlessly onto the saddle, “I promise I’ll make this ride interesting enough to keep your attention.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m sure you can,” he said as he effortlessly mounted onto the horse. He settled onto the saddle before turning his attention toward you.

“Your hand,” he said, extending his gloved one.

“I can manage.”

“Humor me.”

You sighed before hesitatingly placing your hand in his. Before you could protest further, he pulled you upward with ease. For one brief, embarrassing moment, you lost your balance.

You yelped as his steady hand caught you, right at the waist. Your breath caught the moment his hand steadied against you, the warmth of him spreading against your skin.

“Easy, honey,” he chuckled. “I’ve got you.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you quickly straightened yourself on the saddle. “Let’s never speak of this again,” you uttered, choosing to ignore the term of endearment.

“My lips are sealed.”

“Wipe that smile off your face,” you scoffed.

“My apologies, ma’am,” he smirked, gathering the reins.

“You’re so impossible,” you huffed, instinctively grabbing onto his waist to steady yourself as the horse lurched into motion.

His laugh rumbled softly in front of you. “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

The horse carried the two of you away from the palace, leaving the manicured gardens and stone walls behind. Soon enough, the road narrowed into a winding trail swallowed by the forest.

Towering oaks and trees arched overhead, sunlight only peeking through the gaps to create abstract pieces of gold. Ferns and wildflowers carpeted the forest floor, while ivy climbed the trunks of ancient trees. The only sounds were the rhythmic thud of hooves against the dirt path and the steady breath of Gojo.

It was secluded enough that the outside world seemed to disappear. No courtiers prying into your business or expectations to uphold, only the stretch of woodland and the surrounding river.

Gojo slowed the horse to an easy walk, breathing in the crisp scent of pine and damp earth. “This,” he said quietly, “is my favorite part of the kingdom.”

You found yourself smiling as you looked around, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. “I can see why.”

The filtered sunlight caught in his pale hair, painting an ethereal image of Satoru against the emerald leaves overhead. Bathed in ribbons of gold, he looked nothing like when you first saw him. You were beginning to see him like the boy he truly was instead of the renowned prince he painted himself as. Somehow, you found it quite beautiful.

The rest of the ride passed without urgency. You wandered wherever the forest path carried you, crossing narrow streams and weaving between towering pines as the afternoon melted into evening. Ever so often, Gojo would point out something that reminded him of something—usually of his childhood.

You found yourself listening more than speaking. Not because you had nothing to say, but because you liked hearing him talk.

Before long, the sun began its slow descent, staining the sky with shades of amber and rose. The forest glowed beneath the fading light, and the familiar silhouette of the palace came into view beyond the trees.

“I suppose we should start heading back,” Gojo murmured.

“Before they send out a search party?” You snorted.

He laughed along with you. “Your father probably already has.”

“Yikes,” you replied humorously. You smiled to yourself as the horse carried you to the palace stables.

Your day had begun with brunch alongside a stranger—one you had been convinced you would dislike. Now, as you arrived back at the stables, you found yourself smiling at his ridiculous remarks and horrible flirting instead of rolling your eyes. Perhaps, that was the most unexpected of it all.

Somewhere between the forest and the palace, Gojo ceased to seem like a thorn in your side. He was simply…Gojo.

And though you would never admit it aloud, you found yourself looking forward to the next conversation you would inevitably share.

©satorussolace all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, translate, or modify my works.

@fanfic-consumer77 @dilucsgfriend @pr3ttiesz @nixxy298 @spankmydepression

[madamechrissy]

Sex, Lies, Ugly Truth

art in the banner is by @3-aem ! god they make the juiciest art, go follow <3

Pairings - Your mom's boyfriend Satoru x F! reader

Summary- here's just one thing worse than having to stay with your estranged mom for just a few days while your apartment is getting renovated - and that's the six foot four white haired man banging her out every night. And does he own a fucking shirt!? You can't stand being around them, your mom's much younger boyfriend who's closer to your age. What's worse is... you liked him first. He's arrogant, annoying and you're disgusted by him - he doesn't actually make you wet that's... nothing!? And you don't want to fuck him, not at all! No way you wanna fuck your bitch ass mom's boyfriend. right?

Warnings - oh boyyy aha, forbidden love, abusive mother (reader) mentions of past eating disorders, verbal abuse from reader's mom, sm tension and build up, sex doesn't happen till after Toru tells your mom byeee, but fingering does happen before that, oral (f and m receiving) backshots while on the phone with your mom -yeppp - damaged ass reader and Satoru, they have issues, hints of stepcest I guess but he's not rly your stepdad lol, Satoru is 32, reader is 22 so AGE GAP, reader calling him daddy as a joke - maybe. Oneshot - WC - 13.2k

This is literally so toxic aha, my mommy issues haven't gone away. read the warnings! and if you fuck with this brand of crazy, I'll see you in the comments

The first day staying under the same roof as Satoru Gojo

Staying at your mom's for a couple weeks was horrible to say the very least, not just because she was an insane bitch, and not just because you swore you'd never come back here. Not because the memories of being in your old room - transformed into a mural of her pictures and crowns from various pageants she’d been in, you think she changed it the same day you left.

No, not because you love having your freedom, and busted your ass to make sure you never have had to stay here, not because you hadn’t talked to her in so long you have no clue what to say to each other. And not just due to the fact that she was only allowing you here because your father called and asked her to do one favor for once - he lived way too far away.

No, there was another reason that you were miserable, and that was the moans emanating from the next room.

How many rounds could that man go?

And did she have to scream so loud!?!

You slam a pillow on your face, screaming into it while your mom is screaming out - Gojo! There, there! - and then to make it worse, you hear a filthy smack. You feel nauseated at this point, about to throw up if you had to hear one more moan, when finally he seems to finish up.

Jesus, that was a longer session than usual. Does the man do anything but fuck you’re really not certain. Huffing, you throw off the covers of the little futon she’d so graciously brought out, the woman was well off, mind you, but none of that ever helped you any. You wonder if he’s after her money or something, because he was gorgeous, but you suppose your mother was as well.

It still seemed odd, he wasn’t much older than you, but it’s not as if your mom wasn’t notorious for fucking younger guys - even some of your high school friends as soon as they turned eighteen. That was one of the reasons your dad moved out of the country, and you couldn’t blame him for it, she was by far the worst human being, but everyone didn’t know that.

In fact, it was really only you and your dad, along with a couple close friends of yours that knew how horrible she was. Keeping custody of you - for ‘appearances’ - had been hell. But everyone saw her as the ideal, doting mother - after all she spent all her time taking you to every competition there was, and made sure you looked and acted perfect for them.

As soon as you shed the ‘perfect image’ she decided to quit acting.

Shaking off reminiscent thoughts, you get up now and walk over to the door, glaring at the endless photos of her in bikinis and gowns, no one loved themselves more than your mother did, truly. You peek out and notice it’s finally gone quiet in that room, heading to the kitchen to grab a water, downing it to fight back the nausea.

That’s when he walks out, smirking at you, shirtless, nothing but boxers slung over his narrow hips - the reason this was even worse for you.

Satoru Gojo.

"Gimme, I'm dehydrated." This mother fucker snatches the watter bottle then, gulping it down, you watch his Adam's apple Bob as he does, sweat dripping across perfectly sculpted abs. You stare for a moment as your mom walks out, or should you say waddled out, glaring at you now.

"Gojo, come back to bed." She doesn't acknowledge you, and Satoru frowns a bit, the never ending tension between you two prevalent. Satoru actually never knew she had a daughter till he saw you come to the house yesterday, but she sure doesn't seem to have any affection- in fact she hasn't even introduced you properly to him, it was more - this is my daughter.

"Need a break." Gojo says, you bend down to snatch up your bottle, and he can't help but eye your ass in those shorts, looking away quickly now.

There was a big problem staying at his girlfriend’s house for the past couple nights, and that was - 

Satoru wants to fuck his girlfriend's daughter.

His girlfriend is forty five, Satoru is thirty two. And it just so happens you're twenty two, so you’re honestly closer to his age just a bit, but Satoru loves older women, he loves milfs, girls his age or younger were never much interest. He probably has mommy issues, no, he definitely does, there's nothing better than having his head stroked and having a meal made for him after fucking a Milf's brains out- 

Except, maybe, getting to ever touch you.

Gorgeous. You're so gorgeous, effortless and seemingly unaware.

You dress in all black, the opposite of what he expected with your mother who was literally beauty pageant winner for her state for years, her crowns are displayed everywhere. But not a single picture of you to be found, and you'd win them all too with your beauty. But you seem to shove it all away, baggy shirts and ripped jeans, you have not a speck of makeup on your face. Big buffalo plaid jackets as if to hide a body he now sees is fucking banging.

Your mom scowls over at you as she ties her robe. "Stop bothering him and go to your room."

"I just got water because hearing you all fuck for hours was making me sick. I'm not bothering him. He took my water."

"I don't care, when are you leaving again?" You blink a bit.

"I told you it's just a week while they're fixing that roof leak, and I won't bother you again. I'd have asked dad but I can't be that far from work."

"The sooner the better, and don't judge me for having a life, my sentence of you is over now." Satoru pauses, the woman he's been with for months was always sweet and perfect, until you got here.

Seeing your eyes water he clears his throat. "She wasn't bothering me, I did snatch her water up."

Your mom's face has plastered back on a fake smile, the beauty queen smile that’s so cold it makes you shiver, as she brushes up and down Satoru's bare arm, you hate how pretty he is. How much you think of him, and how her hand is all over him, it makes your stomach turn.

"You're right, sorry sweetie I'm just tired." She cooes, all fake she comes and hugs you. Satoru frowns, hoping he read that wrong, you stand still, unmoving, eyeing him over your mom's shoulder then. "I'll try to be quieter -" she leans against your ear. "So you're not so jealous of me hmm?"

You bite back tears, shoving her off. Satoru hadn't heard anything so he has no clue as she comes up to him that you're sobbing in your room. You almost forgot how much you hate that bitch. Yes, you hate your mother. Who pushed you beyond your means to compete when you were younger, damn near starving and working you to perfection, and when you turned eighteen and threw all your tiaras in the trash, lit your gowns and sashes on fire, she never fucking forgave you.

You haven't talked to her in four years, tired of living in her goddamn shadow, your father left her ten years ago and you see why. He hates her as much as you. They fought all the time over letting you have a choice of who to move with, but she ultimately won custody.

And now she takes the guy you were thinking of working up the courage to talk to.

Satoru Gojo. 

You saw him every day as you studied at that coffee shop right by your college, flirting with everyone, so light and free with his bright smile and confidence, while you wallowed in the corner. But you never did say hi, you're sure he never saw you, but to come home and find him shirtless and grinning was almost too much.

Your apartment unfortunately had a horrible leak upstairs and you had to leave, this was the last place you expected but it was right across from work. Never asking her for a thing you hoped maybe you could mend some bridges, but she's as cruel, beautiful and cold as ever. As a younger girl, you craved to have any of her attention, looked up to her, but now you know it’s not worth anything.

Maybe that's the type of woman a guy like Satoru Gojo went for, not you.

What did it matter!? He’s as off limits as it gets.

You hear them moaning again and shove in your earbuds, throwing a blanket over your head and praying for the week to end.

*****

Three days of staying under the same roof as Satoru Gojo

“Shit, sorry…” You’ve stepped right into the bathroom while Satoru’s walking out the next morning, skin glistening with the shower he just took, steam rising out of the door behind him. He smirks down at you as you careen into him damn near, hitting his hard body and almost falling before he catches you.

“Sorry for what?” He sets you right, lazy in his assessment of your face, blue eyes impossible to read, while your eyes drift across his nearly naked body, falling to the towel that’s not hiding shit, bringing a flush to your cheeks. “What, never seen a naked man? You freak out all the time.”

“Well if you ever wore any fucking clothes,” you shove him out of your way, scowling at his smirking face. “What?”

“You’re cute. Bet you’re a whole virgin.”

“Oh fuck yourself, none of your business, fucking Mrs. Robinson.” Satoru chuckles now while your hands brush against his slippery skin a little too long, making him pause, seeing color decorate your cheeks. He falters then, looking down at you, so clearly unused to any attention, clearing your throat and dropping your hand.

“How do you know what Mrs. Robinson is, you’re a baby.” He teases, arm resting in the doorway, that towel daring to dive lower with every moment, you avert your eyes now, digging out your makeup bag from the drawer to wash your face.

“You’re not much older than me, right?”

“Ten years older. You’re still a baby.”

“I’m closer to you than she is.” He blinks a bit, you wish he’d leave, but he’s just lingering like a little fucking pest.

“I guess. You’re nothing like her.” You scoff then, he didn’t mean it as an insult but he sees it is one, your jaw setting while you dry your face with a soft towel, and fuck if you’re not prettier bare faced than anyone he’s seen with a face full of product.

He shouldn’t think like that.

“I’m definitely nothing like her.”

“You don’t call her mom, huh?” He raises a brow, while you’re slathering serum on your skin, cool and tacky as it dries, counteracting the steam and the overheating of your skin from his proximity.

“No, I don’t. It’s none of your business, you all will be back to an empty love shack in days.”

Satoru chuckles then, shaking his head as you glare up at him. “Love shack, what’s with these old ass references?”

“I enjoy old things too, just like you enjoy old women.” He snorts now, rolling his eyes.

“She’s not old to me, one day you’ll be there too.”

“Sure will and won’t be fucking dudes that look like babies.” Satoru leans forward then, that perfect, pretty face right against yours, you freeze when he tilts your chin up, breath brushing across your lips.

“I’m no baby.” His whisper is too much, you swallow nervously, stepping back while he wreaks havoc on your nervous system, heart hammering when his snowy lashes lower, hand falling. “Why do you care what she does and with who?”

“I don’t. But I am not surprised, she was a hit at the high school graduation party.” He blinks in confusion at your words, you shake your head now. “You’re new to her. I almost feel bad for you.”

“Do you now…” You shove him aside, hating how good his skin feels again, hating whatever the fuck he does to your tummy being too close, shoving those thoughts far back.

“I do, she runs through toys like you.”

“We’re dating, not just fucking, you know.” Your lips quirk up, patting his shoulder, only for him to grip your wrist with his huge hand, taking it over, pausing your steps. You turn back to glare at his grip, then up into those arrogant eyes. “You know something I don’t?”

“Let’s just say, she’s a bitch.” You shake him off again. “But you are too.”

“Me!? You’re the mopey, emo little brat glaring daggers at me, sweetheart.” His voice murmurs, his breath against your skin as he leans down, you yank your wrist out of his grip.

“Don’t call me sweetheart!” You hiss as the bedroom door opens, as you two quickly separate, but she’s eyed your proximity, smiling coldly as she assesses you, the look that’s always made you feel so small, holds less than it did before, but it’s still there, the haunting memory of it all.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” She says it so nasty to you then, you just glare once more at Satoru and nod, walking past, her hand halting you, her mouth against your ear, making you shiver in disgust. “Stop looking at him, you’ll never have someone like that.”

“I don’t want him.” You whisper back, earning her laugh now, while she fake hugs you, and you just want to fucking fall into a hole.

“Have a great day, honey!” She smiles and steps forward to Satoru, you can’t stop looking back over your shoulder at them, sighing when his eyes catch yours over her shoulder, unreadable - but you swear you see something flicker.

You can’t even think that way.

You’re stupid.

*****

Five days of staying under the same roof as Satoru Gojo

The man does not own a tee-shirt, you’re completely convinced - he’s always half naked, as if this is how he exists. Well, he clearly has dress shirts, he wears them when he heads off to run his business, you’re not even sure what that job entails, apparently some trust fund baby considering he’s never there. He left for the past couple of nights to go home, thank god.

When he does he brings her with him and she doesn’t come back until late, driven home in some fancy limo, but you get a reprieve.

You suppose he looks good in his Armani suits as he leaves every morning though, always getting some breakfast made from ‘mommy’- yuck. You have to watch them kissing in the kitchen as you fight waves of nausea, but the past couple days you haven’t heard that ridiculous fucking, and he barely kisses her, eyeing you intently when he does press his lips on her cheek.

“Satoru, do you have to go to work today?” She pouts as she blinks those long lashes at him, and he sighs, smiling and touching her cheek, as you vividly wish it was you, which you hate yourself for. You avoid his eyes, sipping on coffee before you head to work yourself.

“I do honey, don’t worry I’ll come stay tonight.” She pouts again, he just smiles a little stiffly, walking out as you head out the door, hands touching the knob at the same time, making you both pause. You clear your throat, pulling your hand back like it’s on fire, as he lets you out first, feeling your mom’s gaze burning a hole in the back of your head.

“Want a ride to work?” He asks quietly, heading over to the black car with a driver holding the back door.

“You don’t drive, huh?”

“Why should I when I can pay someone too.” His pretentious smirk again has you itching to smack him, but the thought of not having to catch a bus is tempting. “You know you wanna.”

“Whatever. Thanks I guess.” He bows as if he’s some gentleman and not an idiot, you slide in next to him, sighing as his thighs spread way too far, brushing against yours. “Manspread much?”

“You hate me don’t you?” You blink in confusion, looking away and biting that lower lip, the lip that fucks him up mentally to look at. Being this close to you alone is making his body react, his pulse racing, even as he keeps a neutral look, he aches to drag your lips against his.

He’s been trying to avoid you since that morning in the bathroom when you touched his chest, burning his skin like a brand. The pull is too much, to where he can hardly remember what he was thinking with your mom. She’s gorgeous, she’s his type, she’s got everything Satoru needs after spending the day at his boring ass family company, but her daughter won’t stop tempting him.

How he saw your breasts spill out of your tank top this morning, your scent that he can’t describe filling a room, it’s all horrible - and shit timing, as now your mom has been talking about getting more serious. Before he saw you, he was hopelessly enamored with her beauty, her clear confidence, but he can’t stop looking at the shy, insecure girl far too eagerly.

He’d show you how gorgeous you were if he had a chance-

The fuck is wrong with him?

You’re her daughter.

“I don’t hate you, Gojo.” You say softly, turning to look up at him now, so much pain behind your eyes it nearly takes his breath away.

“You sure act like it.”

“I know. I have to.” You clear your throat nervously, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, his fingers itching to sweep it back, breath catching when you look up at him, eyes so intense he can’t look away.

“Why do you have to hate me?” He asks quietly again, trying to remember - you’re young, you’re his girl’s daughter, while you remember, he’s your mom’s boyfriend, and you can never act on anything.

“You know the answer,” you whisper, leaning forward a bit, when he leans down, the car cruising gently through the busy streets, entrapping you both in the black tinted windows. “Don’t you?”

“Do I? Seems like you hate her, and I’m hated by default,” he brushes that hair back finally, the contact bringing heat to your cheek, he feels it against his fingers, exhaling when you don’t pull back. “Do you have a good reason to hate her?”

“I do.”

“What-” The car comes to a stop now, jostling you just a bit, as the driver apologizes for hitting the brakes too hard, throwing you right against Satoru’s hard body, you inhale that cologne, expensive and musky, almost making you salivate before he pulls back a bit. “Shit, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” You pull back before it feels good, sliding away again and looking out the dark window. “It’s too long of a story.”

“We have a drive to talk.” He wants to talk to you, fuck he wants to do a lot more than talk, last night he’d seen you when he tried to fuck her, and he had to stop, much to her irritation.

He kept fighting the need to jerk it to the memory of your pretty tits, to picture you instead of her, to shove it all down and try to remember himself.

He’d be glad when you weren’t around, tempting him.

“It’s too much to even begin, but… let’s just say living in her shadow, and with her expectations were brutal.” Satoru tilts his head, big hands on his own thighs, sitting still so as not to further touch you, or do more. “I gave up pageants when I turned eighteen and she disowned me.’

“You did them?” He asks softly, you sigh and turn to look back at him.

“Yeah, since I was three. I… don’t wanna get into it all.” He sighs, was it just that your mother was so upset you gave up on her dream? It felt like more. “I don’t hate you though. Okay? Aside from constantly making her scream out like some goat-” he bursts into laughter then, making your eyes narrow. “And never wearing a shirt.”

“You really hate that.” He muses, you want to tell him more about her, but he’s not your therapist, not your friend, and as much as you despise your mother, it’s just not your place to spill it all. So you leave it at that, sighing and pulling out your phone, checking the time.

“Besides all of that you’re okay I guess.”

He smirks just a bit. “I’ll take it.”

“I will never call you step dad.”

“Oh god, fuck I hope you won’t.” You both laugh it off a bit, the tension, the unspoken words in the air, as you slip into a soft silence, the two of you busying yourselves now, both trying to ignore it. Whispering in your minds - it’ll be over soon.

*****

One week of staying under the same roof as Satoru Gojo

The amount of stress your mother puts you through is unreal, when Satoru is there at least she puts on enough of a show not to do too much in front of him, as to appear perfect. You went out with a few friends for the night - a much needed getaway, and free drinks - sounds like the perfect remedy for dealing with her bitchiness.

You wish you just had some extra money for a hotel, but you just paid all your bills and pay day is a couple days away. As soon as that came in you were going to just grab a hotel for the last couple of days - they are stupid expensive with the holiday right now, but anything was worth leaving her as quickly as you can.

Stumbling in, your mother eyes your clothes with disdain. “You look like a slut.”

You snort in laughter at that, opening the fridge and grabbing another drink out, the seltzers you bought to knock out at night when you had to hear her and Satoru fucking. You crack it open and sit on a chair, crossing your legs that are well revealed in the dress that does barely cover anything. You look hot as fuck though, you already know it.

“Says the woman who had like an entire frat run a train on her in her forties?” You raise a brow, and your mom smacks you right in the face, you smile nastily at her. “Ya mad your ass can’t wear this shit anymore?”

“You’re a stupid little bitch, everything I did for you - and you turn out like this?”

“What, work for a living? A degree? How’d I turn out so bad.” You swipe your cheek then, and her gaze drifts across you with cold eyes - the same color as yours, but they just have no fucking soul to them.

“The biggest disappointment. You could have had a modeling career, but now you’ve let yourself go.”

“Let myself go?”

“Remember how you looked senior year?” You shrink back at her nasty words, biting at your lower lip then, you try to act tough but it’s difficult at times to not let old insecurities hit.

“I was starving because of you.”

“Exaggeration, my god. I did that so you could look your best.”

“My best, huh? I think I look hot, so you can suck a dick. Where is Satoru, by the way? Can he shove one in your mouth?” You smile as your mom gasps, and that’s when the door opens, and you hear Satoru’s footsteps on the floor, still rubbing your stinging cheek as your mother instantly puts on her front.

“You’re a little bitch.” Your mom whispers, yanking your drink out of your hand then, slamming it on the table. “What a waste of your looks, down the drain.”

Usually your mom would stop when Satoru got here - perhaps your saving grace was that. But as he walks into the kitchen, his snowy lashes blink in confusion at seeing her. You catch his eye over her shoulder, smiling then. “Why don’t you fuck her so she’ll be in a good mood again?”

Your mom gasps as you take your drink back, standing and getting away from her overwhelming presence, taking a breath and acting ‘normal’ while Satoru’s gaze drifts across your outfit slowly. You feel every inch of your skin caressed by blue eyes, like he’s touching you.

You can’t think that way, even if she’s a bitch.

“What’s wrong?” He asks then, setting down his jacket, your mother finally seems to notice he’s there, putting on a pretty pout and batting her lashes.

“Just her being mean to me, Satoru.” She walks up to his arms, and you laugh then, so loud you’re crying, swiping tears as you truly feel you’re losing it, seeing her run her long red nails across Satoru’s chest as he looks at you.

There’s too much in the look.

“Maybe if you get dick in your mouth you’ll shut up.” Your words earn your mom’s mouth wide open, while you stretch, knowing half your breasts are fucking out, your thighs fully revealed in the short, tight skirt, hoping to piss your bitch mom off more.

It’s petty but.

It works.

You bend over to snatch two more drinks up, and Satoru has trouble tearing his vision from the sight, picturing bending you over and cursing himself for it. Your mom is whining to him, bitching about you, but your evil little smirk towards him and her turns him on more.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow night, then you won’t have to see me again mommy dearest.”

“I know you didn’t just call me that.” Her affronted tone just makes you giggle, drunk honestly, even more, walking back to your old room - her pageant trophy room - and sighing then, leaning against the door.

You can act as if you’re not hurt by her words all you want, but they hit and they hit deep, hearing the quiet murmurs of her and the man you’re fast desiring far, far too much. You slide down to the floor - you’ve talked endlessly about how your mom never loved you to your therapist - but it still feels like shit, not that you think she could love anyone but herself.

After downing your seltzers, you’re thoroughly drunk - something you haven’t been since freshman year of college, when you go out into the quiet kitchen, in search of a bottle of water. You tense when you see a shirtless Satoru, his strong back illuminated by the soft light over the stove as ice clinks into a glass. He turns his head, catching sight of you before you can dip back to the room.

“Hey.” He usually has something snarky to say, but that’s all he manages, turning toward you and leaning on the counter, you try to avoid your gaze on his body, on the light trail of hair under his flat belly button - but you’re too drunk to avoid it.

“You get her off enough? Maybe she’ll be okay tomorrow.” You murmur, and his jaw tenses then, while you walk up, stumbling just a bit when you get to the fridge, one of his hands dart out to your arm, wrapping around it gently. You pause, eyes darting up to his.

“You all right?” You scowl, yanking your arm out of his hold.

“What do you care for?” Your whisper is angry, he sees so much anger, and though he doesn’t exactly know what was said, hurt was written all over your face.

“Can I not care?” He asks softly. You scoff, looking away.

“No, you can’t.” He sighs now, sipping his drink as you bend down, grabbing another drink instead.

“You shouldn’t have more, you’re torn the fuck up.”

“Oh, thanks dad.”

Satoru scowls now. “Don’t call me that.”

“No?” You’re annihilated, he’s absolutely right, removing the barrier you have put up for him, fingers drifting up his chest, bare and hot to the touch. He tenses, as your fingers drift down over his abdomen, and you step closer. “Should I call you daddy?”

Satoru scowls, thin brows deep over his blue eyes, and his cock is throbbing under his sweats, he wills it to go down, feeling like a horrible fucking man. He couldn’t get hard for her tonight, not when every time he was touching her he pictured her daughter instead, pictured how tight and slick he bets your cunt is, pictures your perfect tits in his fucking hands.

“You’re drunk and stupid, sweetheart.” He grips your wrist, as you quietly giggle, and you look far too hot, drunk mess and all. “You’re too drunk to know what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing, Gojo. I just hold back when I’m sober.” He exhales, and your eyes dart down, raising a brow when you see a far too impressive bulge. “Need to go fuck mommy some more?”

“You’re a brat.” He whispers, pressing you against the cold steel of the fridge now, a thigh pressing between yours, and your heart races. His proximity has you dripping wet in moments, the strong thigh between yours, his breath ghosting over your lips as he bends down. “Touch me again like that and see what happens.”

“Gonna spank me, step dad?” He pins your wrists right over your head, muscled thigh pressing up against your overheated cunt then. Your eyes roll back, you’re too gone to act like you don’t want him, arching your hips up and earning his soft little moan, as he rests his head down on yours.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re… just shut up.” He whispers, a desperate, needy little voice now. “If you weren’t… If I wasn’t…”

“What, big man? Can’t finish a sentence?” You roll your hips again, he feels you soaking him, he can’t stand how badly he wants to slip his cock inside you then, lift your right on that fridge. “Don’t wanna make mommy mad, do we?”

“I can’t stand you.” His lips are a centimeter from yours then, and your breath catches. “Need me, don’t you? Cunt is soaking wet.”

“It’s n-not.” He smirks, letting your wrists go, you shove at his chest, when he pulls back just a bit, gripping your chin.

“It’s not?” You shake your head and he pulls back his leg, looking down at it. Your entire body heats up as you see it, the wet spot darkening his light sweats. “What’s this then, hmm sweets?”

“N-nothing.” You look down in horror, when he swipes it with his thumb, leaning forward again, silvery white locks falling over his forehead then.

“Nothing?” You nod, and he swipes that thumb over your lips, moaning as they’re coated in a gloss, while your cunt throbs around nothing, aching for his touch.

“Mmm, fuck, why do you have to look like that?” He whispers, lips leaning close again, his hands on your hips, your nails slip up his side, contemplating leaving marks for your bitch ass mom to see - hating yourself for it.

“Go back to bed, mommy will miss you. Go fuck her.” He glares even deeper, just looking far too attractive when his lips brush against yours barely, before there’s a noise and he immediately backs away, as do you, heart pounding. What the fuck were you even doing!? “I’m drunk.”

“Yeah, you are.” He whispers, fists clenching as he huffs, turning and pulling his cock up into the waistband of his sweats, annoyed as shit by your laughter. “You’re such a brat.”

“Am I, or are you just wanting to fuck a mom and a daughter? Didn’t you get off enough al-”

“I can’t fuck her, okay?” You blink a bit at his declaration, you scoff, rolling your eyes. You won’t believe him. “That’s your fucking fault. I’ll be glad when you go.”

“Good, so the fuck will I.” You shove at him now, and he hates the hurt on your face. “Don’t want you, creepy old stepdad.”

“Old!?” You smile, mean and nasty, only making him want to fuck that expression right off your face. “I’m not your fucking stepdad.”

“Sure you’re not.” You pat his bare shoulder, walking past him now, barely able to breathe when you walk back into your room, leaving him cursing, eyes shutting tightly when he leans against the fridge, heart racing.

Satoru Gojo has never hated someone until you, for fucking his brain up and whatever morals he does have. He’s by far not a cheater and never has been, but all he can picture when your mom sucks him is you instead, shutting his eyes and pulling on hair that looks just like yours. He hates whatever the fuck you’ve done to him, and how bad he feels for telling you he wants you gone.

He does want you gone so things go back to normal, he can be the milf fucker he’s always been, he can live his life and fuck away all his problems with the career he’s been shoved into. But laying next to her that night he’s staring at the ceiling, wondering what you taste like.

******

One day left staying under the same roof as Satoru Gojo

You and Satoru have avoided each other completely, you work and come home, packing up the few things you have left so you can stay with a friend who’s offered you to come with her for the next few days. It was tiny and cramped there, but anything was better than staying here, and not just because your mom is an evil bitch who loves to trash you every moment.

It was him, the reason you wanted to leave so fucking bad.

“Should you eat that, honey?” Your mom says, so fake sweet as you nibble on a candy bar, you didn’t eat shit at work so you instantly busted out a snickers.

“Should you fuck men half your age, mommy?” Your mother glares, and Satoru overhears, though he stays in the hall.

“He’s not - also your ass is just looking really big in those shorts, you know.”

“That’s good, I like it.”

“Your hair looks oily.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Your mom scoffs again, snatching the bar and throwing it out, and you glare up at her. “I just care about you. No makeup, you dress like shit, and you’re munching on a candy bar? How much further do you want to let yourself go?”

“I work for a fucking living, I don’t make money off fucking men and having them take care of me. So back the fuck off. I’ll be gone in the morning.”

“Thank god, Satoru can’t stand you.” You blink a bit then, wishing that didn’t hurt as much as it did. You could handle her trashing you in every other way, but the man that you can’t rip your fucking mind from actually hating you stung.

“Huh?”

“He can’t stand you, and you’re not going to come between what I want. I see you, looking at him.” She tilts your chin up then. “You think you’d ever get a man like him? That’s funny. Maybe before, when you were still competing. Now?” She laughs, and you feel tears running unwillingly from your eyes. “Not a chance, so stop dreaming about him.”

“You don’t know shit.” You smack her hand off you. “I’ll leave now.”

“Go right ahead-”

“Hey, what’s for dinner?” Satoru walks out then, and your mom pauses. “Who’s cooking?”

“She’s leaving.” Satoru checks his Rolex on his wrist then, frowning.

“It’s nine already, buses aren’t running. Why not wait till the morning?”

“Because she-” your mom puts back on her airs now, smiling so saccharine and fake. “No, you’re right, Satoru. She should stay and eat some dinner.”

You scoff, since the bitch just threw your only food for the day in the trash - but you do get paid in the morning, and it would be more convenient to just stay. “I’m not eating with you. But I’ll leave in the morning. Good night mommy dearest.”

“I swear to-”

She’s cut off with you shutting yourself in again, laying on the bed and shutting your eyes, wishing her words didn’t cut so deep like knives, stomach growling. Even later when you smell food you don’t come out, until a soft knock is on your door, and you finally drag yourself out of your bed you’re just rotting away and crying in.

“What do you want?” You say softly, looking up at the tall man - who really should wear a fucking shirt - in the doorway.

“You should eat something.” He murmurs softly, you sigh, shaking your head.

“I’m not hungry.” Your tummy inconveniently growls, and he frowns now rather than an amused smirk you’d expect.

“You should eat.” He repeats, shocking you when he grips your hand in his, bringing you out to find he’s set a plate aside for you.

“I don’t need you to feed me.” You nibble while standing, cutting up a piece of chicken however, chewing thoughtfully as he watches you, far too intensely. “What, are you gonna just watch me?”

His heart aches for you then, having overheard her. It all fits with the conversation he had with you in the back of the car, the pressure she had you under all made sense. He’d only seen glimpses of it, her cruelty toward you, but they’re glaringly apparent. When she’d tried to fuck him earlier, and brought you up, he couldn’t do anything with her, thanking god she went to sleep early.

He needed to see you.

You were so clearly not okay from her.

“Stop acting like you care.” You murmur then, nibbling another bite, not even sitting at the seat before you turn away.

“Finish eating.” His commanding tone is far too fucking sexy, in fact all of him is - and you could almost forget about last night, in your drunken haze, but the problem is you remeber it vividly, tasting your arousal on your lips.

“You don’t tell me what to do. I have a dad.” He laughs without humor then, shaking his head and leaning low, pressing one hand on the wall, lifting your chin with the other.

“Stop acting like I’m even close to old enough to be your dad.” You bite your lower lip that trembles, you inhale that hundred dollar a spray cologne that’s haunted your fucking senses all week.

“You fuck my mom, so.” Your little glare hits him so good, your mean little words that just make him more obsessed with you, picturing you constantly. He’d jerked off in his office just remembering your heat against his thigh today - simultaneously feeling horrible and the inevitable pull of you, intoxicating like the liquor he’d drunk to just lay next to her last night.

He can’t get hard around her - not when you’re in the next room.

“Does that make you mad, that I fuck her?” He asks then, your scowl deepens, teeth clenched as you shove at his chest.

“Why would it?”

“Seems like it bothers you,” his fingers brush your hair back, goosebumps rise on your skin, tummy clenching with the hot desire. “Seems like you’d want me inside you instead.”

“Ah, you wish, conceited ass of a man. I don’t want you.” You’re lying through your teeth, and it’s like he knows, the blue eyes seeing right through your fucking bullshit. “You don’t want me either, so stop fucking with me.”

“I don’t?” He’s close, too close, you shove him away then, shaking your head, her words ringing in your fucking ears.

He’d never want you

Out of your league

You’re nothing

Maybe they did still get you, words you’d long since stopped giving her the ability to speak. Years of striving for her affection, of wanting to be perfect and win so that you could get just a bit of her praise. The moment you broke free was the best time you can remember, throwing those tiaras away - but you fear you’re just barely a step away from falling back into the sadness that she caused.

Worse is this tall, beautiful fucking man acting interested.

“You would never want me,” his mouth drops open at that. “So stop fucking acting like it.”

“You think I don’t!?” You scoff, walking away now, heading to the bathroom to perhaps put some water on your face, but this fucker follows you in, shutting the door, coming up behind you now, and you see his reflection in the soft lighting around the mirror, see the way he’s looking at you.

“Get out. Stupid. I’m not your milf okay?” You gasp then, as he tilts your chin so that you catch his brilliant blue eyes, the bathroom is too small suddenly, when his chest presses against your back.

"Look at me," Satoru whispers, you shake your head, tears falling. "I said look at me." He tilts your chin to look to the side as he leans over you.

"What?" You whisper through your teeth, trying to be quiet in the dark room, as Satoru’s hand slips down your bare arm, the other arm wrapping your waist, dragging you against his hard body. You whine out softly at it, being pressed against him, before you can stop yourself. When he leans lower, cool breath against your lips.

"You're beautiful, okay? So fucking beautiful..." You shake your head at that, earning his sigh, gripping your chin so tightly you feel his strength, only making the sweet ache worse. "You are. All I can think of is fucking my girlfriend’s daughter on every surface, you know what that fucking does to me?" His hushed, desperate voice makes your tummy clench with desire.

You have tried to fight it, but the resolve weakens every second you stare into his cerulean gaze, words you don’t want to accept. "Satoru... I… mnh!"

“Shh, sweetheart,” he groans now, shaking his head, kissing up your neck as his hand splays your stomach, drifting to your heat, breaths faster and heavier, mixing with yours. "Is it just me? Being fucking horrible?"

You shake your head, crying out softly when he finds your hot cunt over your shorts, soaking the thin fabric of them immediately. He moans so sexy against your ear, as the longing keeps swirling around the two of you. "You're not horrible, I am..."

"No, she's a fucking bitch. I didn't know she... was that mean. I like psychos, but that?” Your eyes shut, ass brushing against his thighs, feeling his hardness press against the small of your back.

“She’s just how she’s always been. Mnh… you shouldn’t.”

“I know I shouldn’t, okay? Fuck, you just take it. Let her treat you that way, why don’t you stand up to her, hmm?” His fingertip finds your clit, pressing up as your head falls back, and his cock twitches, aching to come inside you when you soak his fingers through your shorts, gasping and writhing against him.

"I'll be gone tomorrow. It's f-fine... Satoru, what are you… mnh!” You cry out, he brings a hand to your mouth while you watch your reflection in the mirror, he's taking over every sense you have.

“God you're soaked, so fucking hot, so tight.” He leans down, slipping a thick digit in your tight little entrance, making you scream out weakly against his hand. His blue eyes dilate, in the dark, quiet hushed sighs against his hand mixing with the sound of embarrassing wetness echo across the walls. “Lemme make you feel good, hmm?”

You just nod weakly, so tired of pretending like you don’t want him, entranced by the image in the mirror of him overtaking you, fingers angling up as your juices pour down his hand, you whine out, trembling as he keeps hitting just that spot, the one that makes your eyes roll back. Your ass arches back for more, knowing she’s in the next room and could hear or see fucks you up too much.

Your mommy issues clearly are still prevalent.

After hearing all her loud high pitched moans from this man, knowing all of his attention is on you is addictive, his lips brushing the shell of your ear while his fingers curl in your slick walls, gripping him and quivering. “Can you keep quiet so I can see your pretty face when you cum?”

You nod weakly, his words are destroying you, and any resolve you currently have, any part of your brain that knows this is wrong is gone, you want to cum for him, as he is bending low to angle his fingers deeper. You gasp and bite your lip as he does, as the squelches of your hungry cunt echo in the small space.

His breaths come heavy as he feels your walls, as you feel every line of his long - fuck they’re so long - fingers curling against your spot over and over, thumb pressing your twitchy little clit. “Satoru!”

“Shh, sweetheart,” he’s lost in you, cock leaking precum as he studies your face in the dark reflection, feeling you grip him so fucking good, picturing stretching your perfect little cunt out. “Like this?”

You nod, swallowing as you cling to his bare arms, feeling his muscles bunch as he moves his fingers, you are blinded when he rolls his thumb just right, as his other hand grips a breast under your tank top, brushing against your nipple. It’s all too much, you bite back the moans that threaten to rip from your throat, instead whining out softly, gasping and hiccuping as pleasure waves through you.

You’re soaking his fingers, dripping down them when he leans low, capturing your lips, drinking in your little cries as his fingertips brush your spongy spot, over and over, while you shatter in his hold. Your saliva drips across your tongues as his fingers slow, thumb pressing up your twitchy clit again, while you’re lost in his embrace, his taste sweet on your tongue.

You should feel bad you’re dripping down Satoru Gojo’s fingers, had they been inside her earlier? Would he touch her with them? You wish it all didn’t just make you wetter, more sensitive for him, when he eases them out, sucking them into his mouth now, moaning when your flavor hits his tongue, the filthy thoughts just echo louder as your pussy pulses from the aftershocks.

“Fuck you’re so sweet,” he moans then, turning you and lifting you until you’re spread on the counter, your thighs shake as he presses against you, hard and thick, kissing you with your juices dripping across his plump lips. “God I wanna bury my face between your thighs.”

“Satoru, this is insane.” You whisper, as he’s hungrily kissing down your neck, moaning a little too loud. “Shh!”

“Fuck, maybe she should hear,” his eyes are batshit insane then, brilliant blue almost glowing, long fingers spreading your thighs apart. “All I can think of is you.”

“Shut up,” you’re shaking your head, hands slipping through his silky locks as he kisses down your chest. “Fuck me.”

Satoru blinks at that, when you’re reaching down to touch him, he exhales, hands trembling as they hold you, kissing your lips again and losing himself, cock brushing your soaked cunt. He hears the door click across the hall then, pausing and cursing. “Shit…”

“Shit!?” He covers your mouth, glaring with his snowy lashes lowered over his blue eyes.

“Shut up.” He’s kissing you again, hot and desperate as your mom is calling out his name, you can’t stop the soft whine from your lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Shut me up.” His hand lifts a thigh, groaning quietly as he hears his fucking name again, cock leaking so much precum, throbbing so much it hurts.

“Satoru honey, where are you?” He sighs now, and you shake your head.

“Go, I’ll stay for a few.” You whisper softly, he is aching to stay, but the situation at present is horrible, and he doesn’t want you getting hurt because he can’t keep his hands off his girlfriend’s daughter.

“Don’t leave tomorrow until we talk.” He says then, against your ear.

“Maybe.”

“Ugh.” You smile a bit at his scowl. “I’ll be right out, just in the bathroom!”

“Okay honey, I miss you.” You feel sick, watching him walk out, you let out a held breath, thighs shaking, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he made you feel better than anyone ever has, that you've never cum like that.

Worse, how he had kissed you?

This was some sick, cruel fucking joke, falling for your bitch ass mother's boyfriend. You can't trust him. You know you need to slip out in the morning, to try to forget him and how good it felt to be in his arms.

******

The last morning staying with your mom

You want to wait for Satoru like he asked, but laying there and counting down the moments until you know the buses run, you couldn’t stay.

You can’t do this, even to her, have some sort of affair?

You can’t be the other woman - especially to your own mother, even if she’s fucking awful, the guilt is eating at you. It would be different if it was some petty revenge to her for all these years, if it was just sexual attraction, but you absolutely know it’s way more with Satoru, kissing didn’t feel like that, nothing felt that good, being consumed by Satoru and losing yourself in him.

You’re trying to slip out that next morning, when Satoru Gojo grips you by your wrist, out of nowhere, you look back and his azure gaze is furious. “I asked you to wait for me.” His tone is so hurt, you can hardly stand it.

“Gojo, we have to forget it.” Your broken words ruin him, he’s breathless as he looks at you, two bags slung over your shoulders. “I shouldn’t have.”

“No, why not?” He caresses your cheek, bending over you then, his sweet breath bringing back the memories that kept you up all night, of kissing him back, of his fingers now on your wrist that were inside you.

“You’re hers.” You hear her then, panicking and shoving at Satoru, but he doesn’t move an inch.

“Get the fuck away from him!” Your mom’s words make Satoru chuckle, and the sight of it confuses the fuck out of you, as he looks back at her, raising a brow.

“I’m pinning her to the door and you’re yelling at her right now?” She sputters, your heart fucking races, the heat creeping up your cheeks, burning as she stomps over to you both, furious so clearly.

When you were younger it would have scared you, but Satoru is here, and in the short week, you oddly trust him, feel the comfort, something to be said about it that you haven’t admitted to yourself yet.

“It’s her trying to take what’s mine, jealous of me always.” She grips your hand, your bag falls to the floor as she scowls down at you. “Never show your face here again, leave my life the fuck alone, stupid little bitch.”

“I didn’t-” She raises her hand as if to smack you when Satoru grabs her wrist, she looks at him in shock.

“You won’t raise a hand to her again, she might not stand up for herself when you do, but I will.” He drops her wrist now, raising a thin brow and bending down, picking up your bag for you.

“Satoru baby, you don’t understand all she’s put me through,” she’s trying to be sweet again, crocodile tears dripping down her cheeks, long lashes blinking, her lip is even trembling. She’s always been great at that. “I don’t want to hurt her, but she is horrible to me.”

“I’ve heard and seen far, far too much this week. You are an evil bitch to her, and you won’t get to be anymore.” He shoves her off him dismissively as she tries to cling to him now, then she scowls at both of you.

“What, because she’s younger!? Is that who you are? Some sick game to fuck us both?”

“No, she’s actually just better than you. In every single way, and you hate it, don’t you? That’s just pathetic.” You look down, unbelieving he’s standing up for you like this, your mom lets out an affronted scoff while Satoru picks up his phone.

“You don’t want her, you can’t.” She’s losing her composure, her act, it’s all falling apart as she starts to panic.

What could be worse than you ever outshining her? You’re supposed to live in her perfect shadow.

“Why are you so jealous of your own kid? You got some crazy issues, you know that? Not even hot crazy, either, just a batshit narcissist.” He clicks his tongue, sighing and smiling down at you, with lidded eyes. “Wanna stay at my penthouse until your apartment is ready, sweetheart?”

“What!?” Your mom is blowing a whole fucking gasket - you should feel bad for stealing her man, but you really can’t find it in you.

“Yes, if you really don’t mind?” Satoru grins, those bright white teeth, and picks up his dark shades off the side table, your mom is tugging on his dress shirt, and he brushes her off, looking over his sunglasses at her.

“Satoru I’m sorry, I just… I was acting out too much. It’s her, the problem! Look how happy we were before?”

“I’m sure there are plenty of young men for you out there, maybe younger than me so they are too dumb to see how fucked up you are.” She’s glaring as he takes your hand in his, and you can’t stop the happy little giggle from your mouth as you both leave, and you hear things getting thrown at the door.

“Satoru, that was insane!?” You whisper, he brushes your hair back then, sighing.

“I wanted it to go a little smoother, that whole exchange. But no, of course you were bratty and didn’t wait.” He tilts your chin up and you kiss him, smiling against his sweet, plush lips.

“You’re not step-dad anymore, maybe the appeal is lost-”

“I’m gonna beat your ass.” He’s scowling as you giggle through your tears, when his car pulls up, he hands your bags off to the driver, climbing in and holding out his hand, tugging you in the back. “You do need a good ass beating.”

“I think I had enough mental beatings,” you grumble a bit, he frowns at that as the car revs up, and he tugs you against his chest. “You noticed?”

“Yeah, hard not to. Last night was when I saw how fucking much she hates you, the way she talks it’s just not how a normal person does. I’m sorry you…”

“I’m good. I promise.” You look up at him then, kissing him softly, while your hand slips down his chest, hearing his hitch of breath.

“You can eat whatever you want at my place, okay? Also your ass is very nice.” You blink back tears, mixing with your tremulous smile from his sweetness, and you’re flustered- you’re literally a wreck.

“You heard it all?” He nods, swallowing, his brows together.

“It’s why I came to you. I’m so disgusted that I even…”

“How could you know? She’s beautiful, she knows how to play people.”

“You’re more beautiful than she could be,” he murmurs, kissing you again, messy and hungry in the back of the huge black luxury car, having you straddle him, your mom’s ex boyfriend, feeling his phone vibrating against your thigh now. “I swear if it’s her I’ll have you cum right on the speaker.”

“Gojo!” He’s sighing, his big hands drifting over your waist, when your phone starts going off too, but you’re too lost in his kisses, in his scent, in how good he fucking feels.

“Feel so good on me, fuck I wanna bury my cock inside you,” he is desperate and needy then, feeling your heat against his cock, when you drop to your knees, making his lips part. “Sweetheart…”

“Want your cock in my mouth,” he’s whining out at that, helping you unbutton and unzip his slacks, until his cock springs free, making you gasp.

You knew it would be big, but you didn’t know it’d be that big, a solid nine inches and thick, veins running and wrapping under his shaft from the base to his blushing pink tip. You moan softly at it, soaking wet under your panties from the sight, that clean yet musky scent. Satoru brushes your hair back softly with long fingers, eyeing you down there, making you feel so sexy with just a gaze.

“Want me to suck you down my throat?” He nods quickly, and you do just that, after spitting on his cock and slathering your saliva as the phone keeps vibrating, but his hands are enwrapped in your hair while you look at him under those lashes.

“Fuck, look at you, can you take it all?” He’s taunting, a mix of devotion and talking shit, so intoxicating you can’t take it, tummy full of so much pressure you whine out at the sensations, gliding his tip inside your mouth now, hot and hungry while you taste him. You swirl your tongue on his tip, fingers brushing across the soft white hair right over his cock.

His eyes never leave yours as you move, as he fucks up into your throat, hissing at just how fucking good your mouth feels, how pretty your eyes are as you look up at him. You’re whining out, vibrating around him, while his hands tug your hair into a ponytail, fucking into your mouth harder, harder, you’re slobbering down his cock so messy and filthy how you take him.

“So beautiful, fucking look at you,” you whine at the praise, from his soft lips, which he’s biting and releasing, making the sexiest moans from the back of his throat that drive you to get wetter and wetter. You reach down, touching yourself under your skirt when he yanks your wrist. “No.”

“No!?” You glare, and Satoru smirks, shaking his head.

“I’ll bet the one touching you, licking you- ah!” You’re sucking him again, even as he grips your little wrist tightly, sucking one of your little fingers, so lewd and sexy you can’t stand it, grinding on nothing for friction, as the car comes to a stop, Satoru huffs, yanking you up. “Open.”

You do just that, and freaky ass ‘stepdad’ Satoru Gojo spits in your mouth, you gasp, swallowing it and feeling the need grow so much it’s painful, kissing desperately, hand still stroking his length up and down. “In me, please.”

“Shit, yeah,” he adjusts himself, leaving the belt unbuckled as the two of you ride up the elevator to his stupidly fancy and clean penthouse, once the door is shut he presses you against it, hands slipping up your sides, gripping you everywhere. “Wanna taste you again, fuck…”

“Taste me then, mnh!” He’s on his knees right before you, the way he looks up at you is so intense it takes your breath away, as he shoves your skirt up, lapping a hot stripe up your slick panties, already soaked. “Oh my god, more, more!”

“Demanding little thing,” he teases, stroking fingers up your soppy panties, groaning as he then pulls them down, letting them fall down to your ankles, still clad in those ridiculous combat boots. They’re so hot he just keeps them on, throwing a thigh right over his shoulder, breath ghosting on your bare cunt. “Fuck, look at you, you’re so pretty.”

“Y-you don’t have to say- ah!” Your hands entangle in his silky, silvery white locks, soft as your fingers grip and pull until it hurts, but he wants more.

“Fuck my face, that’s it, taste s’good, mmm,” his whispers against you vibrate against your clit, and you’re screaming out, head falling back against Satoru’s door, as his mouth devours your cunt, so hungry and desperate for you.

His impossibly long tongue makes you furious that your bitch ass mother ever got him in this way, toxic and petty, it just makes you fuck his face more, hips rolling while that tongue plunges into you. He’s licking and stroking between your folds, right up in your hole, straight nose bumping your clit. Your thighs shake, his fingers pressing into them, your gummy walls are convulsing around his tongue.

The sound of him sucking up all your wetness - well he’s trying to, but you’re so fucking wet it’s pouring, his cock is leaking precum - already sensitive from that stupidly talented mouth, and now this? He can hardly remember your mom’s name any more, in fact he can’t remember anything right now, but how he should have been doing this, just drinking your sweetness up down his throat.

Devouring your pretty pussy, pulling your plump, puffy lips apart to slide that tongue in and out of your quivery little cunt as you scream out hoarsely. “Oh my god, don’t stop, don’t stop, please!”

You’re sobbing out his name, panting as he licks and nibbles your twitchy little clit with sharp teeth, making you gasp out at the shock of the pain and pleasure, your nipples pressing against your top, tummy clenching as you feel your orgasm so close. He’s slipped two fingers up inside your hole, looking up at you as his tongue flicks your sensitive clit again.

“You’re so messy, aren’t you baby?” He taunts softly, all you can do is weakly nod, while his fingers now know your spot way too fucking well, pressing up against your g spot while he stretches you hot. “So sweet now, is this what you needed?”

“Shh, jerk.” He chuckles against your cunt, before sucking your little clit into his hot mouth and fucking moaning, making you feel like you’re going to collapse. It’s so good, so fucking good, and you’re so close. “I-I’m gonna, Satoru, oh god-!”

He doesn’t let you go over the edge though, pulling away with a pop of pink lips,covered in your arousal like a gloss. You yelp, looking down at him with a desperate expression, your cheeks flushed, chest heaving. He can’t stop thinking how fucking pretty you are like this, desperate for him, whining and wiggling.

“Why’d you stop!?” He stands now, slipping up your sweater, groaning when he realizes you have no bra on, seeing those tits he’s jerked it to bounce gently.

“Want you to cum around my cock, like a good girl. Can you?” He’s way too fucking hot, it’s actually unfair. You nod weakly, he sighs, cupping your breasts and watching your eyes roll back, his thumbs brush your nipples, already hard and aching for more.

Satoru unlaces your boots, leaving your knee socks and skirt on, you just look too sexy in them, unbuckling himself hastily as you tug his shirt off him. “Please, hurry, fuck…”

“Demanding, thought you hated me not wearing a shirt?” You glare at him, just making him chuckle, before he’s down to nothing, fully naked and gorgeous, as the light streams in through the blinds of those floor to ceiling windows, casting shadows across his perfect form.

“Fuck…” You’re kissing across his chest, when he shocks you, lifting you up like it’s nothing, pressing you right on that door again, the cool wood against your burning hot skin, tip drooling and leaking against your cunt. “Mnh! Please!”

“Need my cock so bad inside you?” You just nod weakly, done pretending or teasing, you’re still throbbing from the way he edged you, and when his leaky tip bumps your clit it almost pushes you over the edge. You’re clinging to his neck, kissing him as you roll your hips, soaking wet and begging with your body.

“In me, g-god, just - ah!” Satoru shoves his cock so deep in one stroke you’re left breathless, blinking rapidly at the ridiculous stretch, so full you can’t think, you’ve never been stuffed like this. Your eyes lock, his are so bright they’re insane, his lips and chin coated in your arousal, holding you by your ass right under your skirt as your legs tremble around narrow hips.

“Fucking feel you, my god,” he’s whispering in wonder for a moment, blinking snowy lashes to try to orient himself, to not cum just from one stroke like some dumb teenager from pussy.

But your pussy!?

“Prettier, tighter,” he’s whispering, and the words itch that toxic, fucked part of your brain, the mix of craving Satoru and the petty part of you that hates her. He can tell too, smirking. “Wetter than her. Feel better, fuck than anyone.”

“Shut up, so full of - ah!” He’s fucking you now, you got that moment to adjust, bruising your lower back when he fucks you against that door with no mercy, thick cock bullying your quivering little walls with filthy smacks of skin and your squishing cunt. “Oh my g-god!”

“I’m telling the t-truth you… bratty little fucking… god she’s so tight, mnh…” Satoru’s lost then, hips bucking up and rolling just so, and he watches your pretty face hungrily. “Cum f’me, all over me, make a mess.”

“Ah!” You’re gushing, just making the sounds in the enormous penthouse you’ve barely noticed louder, mixed with his moans as he fills you up so good, when he pushes deep and rolls those hips, watching you intensely as you cum, his eyes so brilliant blue and fucking starved for you. “Ohmygod fuckfuckfuck!”

“That’s it, fucking you dumb, huh,” he’s groaning, feeling your slick coat him, your mouth in a slutty O when he looks back up, feeling your aftershocks pulse around his cock. “God, baby, you came so hard f’me, bet you never have.”

“B-bet you never… felt pussy this good,” your bratty little whisper makes him smirk, slamming into you and pulling you off the door, you’re clinging to him in shock without the support, but he’s lifting you up and down his thick, lengthy cock like you’re a little fuck toy. “Ngh!”

“You mean better than your mom’s?” You scowl, gripping him tighter with your thighs as he just walks around with your fucking cunt around him, smirking as he lifts and drags you back on his cock again. You’re clinging to his back, nails pressing in and leaving marks.

“Psycho, mmm!”

“Says you, need to know if your pussy is tighter? I already told you, but no, gotta know every part that’s better? You’re so fucked up baby.” You glare, biting the shit out of his lip and earning his moan, as you draw just a little bit of blood, a bright red droplet that makes him grin.

“Maybe I am fucked up.” Your answer makes him chuckle, picking you up again, fucking you suspended in the air as you cling to him, whining. “Feel s’good, so thick mmm!”

“Am I the biggest you’ve had? The best?” He’s whispering, husky and needy now, you could bluff and taunt him, but you just nod eagerly, and he exhales, pulling out with a wet squelch, making you whine. “Hang on to me.”

You do just that, heart racing while Satoru carries you now, and your dark spots fade for a moment, long enough to get glimpses of his gorgeous, expensive ass fucking penthouse, making your mom’s place look like shit when you thought hers was fancy. Everything is spotless, surprising you only briefly when he makes it to his bedroom, tossing you right down on it.

You bounce gently on a black silky comforter, taking several breaths, looking around then glaring. “She fuck you on here?”

He grins at you, nodding and unzipping your skirt, groaning as he sees your hips for the first time. “Fuck you’re sexy,” he caresses you softly for a moment, fingertips drifting down the jut of your waist, the curve of those hips, before grabbing them, looking at your cunt. “All beat up already, huh?”

“Shut it, back in.” He grins, fingering your knee socks and sighing.

“They’re too hot, they stay on.” His open admiration of you makes you feel so fucking good, the way his eyes worship you, leaning low and kissing you again. “So fucking sexy, y’know that?”

“Mnh, s-so are you. But you know already, conceited- ah!” Satoru’s cut you off with a bite to your lower lip, sexy glare on his face now.

“Couldn’t even walk around her house without getting wet for me, could you?” Your glare just turns him on more, while he bends down, sucking your nipple into his hot mouth as you cry out, his teeth sinking in.

“Ah!” He moans, going right to the other. “Y-you wish.”

“Bet you played with your cunt, maybe right next to your mom’s room huh?” You bite his shoulder so hard it makes him moan at the pain. “Shit.”

“Shut it. You wish I did, bet you jerked it thinking of me? Your girl’s daughter, freaky ass-” He’s bit you again on your other nipple, the pain shooting up and making your sore cunt wetter.

“I did,” you blink, so disoriented, eyes now looking up to his in shock. “Yeah, I did, thinking of that slutty dress you wore that night.”

“Shit… really?” He sighs, and before you can say anything else, Satoru turns you around now, bending your ass up in the air, moaning at the sight, the dimples in your back, the way your ass looks, he moans and slaps each cheek, as you whine out, head falling back.

“God, look at this ass, fuck…”

“Prettier from the back than mommy is?” He scowls as you look back and giggle, smacking the fuck out of your ass now. “Ah!”

“You’re so damaged,” he smacks your cunt, you’re just drooling now, eyes rolling back, so ready to be filled by him. “Already told you, prettier pussy, yummier, tighter - gotta hear how much better your ass is too?”

“Mmm! Was teasing,” you whisper, when he slips his cock back inside you, this time so deep he bottoms out in one stroke, you scream out at it, hair now in his hold as he fucks into you. “Gojo!”

“You’re so damaged baby girl, god it’s hotter than it should be,” he’s losing it inside you then, your wet, slick little cunt gripping him even tighter, balls smacking your clit with every brutal stroke, as his other hand grips your ass, marking it over and over. “Feel so much better.”

“Yeah, daddy? Ah!” Satoru’s smacked the fuck out of you again, it stings so good as he slams his cock deep, tip drooling along your cervix. “Oh my god!”

“Stop running that mouth,” he leans over, gripping your throat with one hand, long fingers wrapping it entirely, bent over you with a arm braced on the other side, as his cock is stretching you, feeling so fucking perfect even as it hurts, how big his cock is. “You’re so fucking slutty, huh?”

You nod weakly, as he starts squeezing your throat now, making it all fuzzy and heady, you’re gasping for a breath as he presses on your pulse point, cock pounding you from the back, you’re gasping for breaths as filthy smacks fill his huge room. “Oh, Gojo!”

“Satoru, call me Satoru…” he’s whispering desperately, needing it from you, and you feel his cock thickening inside your slutty, drooling hole.

“Satoru, ah!” You’re lost as he chokes you while fucking so deep, rolling his hips, making you shatter for him, walls quivering around his cock, trying to milk him for everything he has. “Satoru!”

“Wanna fill your pretty little cunt with all my cum,” he whispers, squeezing harder as he hits just that spot, and you feel the pressure in your tummy explode, screaming out as the orgasm hits. “Oh god baby, yes, cum again f’me hmm?”

You can’t not do just what he asks, blinded as he saps your oxygen with his fingers tightening over your throat, you’re fuzzy and dizzy as you scream, the sound hoarse and weak. He’s moaning and kissing you, drool spilling out the corner of your mouth, releasing your throat a bit and just gripping under your chin now. You’re shaking, cunt so wet it’s dripping onto the dark blankets.

“S-Satoru…” you whisper again, making him whine when your head falls back, he’s biting across your neck, groaning. “Feel s’good in me…”

“You feel s’good wrapped around me, f-fuck…” the phone goes off again, in the pants discarded on the floor, and he smirks as he bends down, grabbing it.

“What are you…” Satoru presses that green answer circle, before sliding back in your cunt, psycho grin and dilated blue eyes vivid as you hear her voice. You look at him, covering your mouth as you hear her voice, but he leans down, whispering in your ear.

“Make noise.” You shake your head - you can’t be that fucked up!?

Can you?

“Satoru please, just come back. I’m sorry.” She’s sobbing, her sweet little meal ticket is gone after all, he’s slamming his cock deep in you as you scream into your palm, making him laugh a bit.

“Sorry, I’m not… coming… back that is, hah-” he’s hitting those backshots harder, the filthy sound of your cunt echoing, your eyes roll back, drool spilling on your palm now as you hear her voice in the background.

“She’s manipulating you!? She wants what I have. Satoru- what’s that!?” He chuckles, bottoming out and stuffing you so full your hand falls and you scream out.

“That’s your daughter, god she’s so much tighter than you.” You gasp and glare back at him, only making him hit it harder, until there’s no denying the filthy sounds.

“Oh you are… you both… you’re a whore I swear-”

“Ah!” Satoru’s rubbing your clit, murmuring in your ear.

“Cum f’me again, hmm?”

“You’re insane!?” He grins, and you shake your head, but soon you’re shattering again, earning his moan.

“So, I need to go, gotta get your daughter pregnant.” You gasp again, mid orgasm, as your mother sputters and he hangs up on her, chuckling.

“Y-you… she’s… Satoru!”

“She won’t call again now I bet,” he’s leaning low until you’re in prone position, turning your face and kissing your soft lips. “I wanna fill you all up, baby, hmm?”

“Do you, daddy?” He glares, but his cock pulses, and you giggle, breathless, earning him shoving hard, pulling at your hair. “You like that.”

“Shut it,” he’s moaning as you tighten around him, aftershocks pulsing, as he pictures doing just that, knocking you up. “Beg for it, slutty little brat.”

“Please, daddy,” he whimpers at that, and you bite your lip. “You’re damaged too, huh?”

“Not as damaged as you,” he’s huffing, kissing you as you laugh. “You can laugh? Need to fix that.”

“Gonna teach me a lesson daddy- ah!” Satoru Gojo is so deep you feel him fucking everywhere, making you tremble, as he’s throbbing inside you. “You like it!”

“Shh. Yes.” Your breathy giggle is cut off when he chokes you again, so intimate like this, teeth sinking in your neck now. “Beg for it.”

“Daddy please fill me up - mnh!” You’re both lost then, Satoru won’t admit it but hearing you call him that makes him sensitive, whimpering as he busts deep inside your perfect little hole, your gummy walls grip his cock and pulse around it, while his white sticky load coats them. “Oh my g-god!”

“Fuck, feel her… milking my cock huh?” You just nod weakly, when he cups you under your chin, kissing you messy and desperate, you’re cumming from the warmth, from all that cum pouring down his cock, mixed with your gossamer strings of arousal swirling down his cock, his balls, to the bed.

“Mnh, Satoru…” He’s kissing you deeper, teeth sinking into your lips as you both come down, easing his strokes and softening just a bit, still so thick inside you, making you feel so full.

“You’re so fucked up, baby.” You gasp, glaring now as he eases out. “It’s okay, all your issues? Hot as fuck.”

“You’ve got your own issues then, hmm?” He smirks, pressing kisses along your shoulder blades now.

“Too many to count. Not the only one with shitty parents, sweetheart.” Satoru turns you over now, and you brush a hand across his cheek, sighing.

“Then tell me them all, daddy.” He scowls again, and you can’t stop the grin on your face, Satoru lets you get away with it a bit, because it’s just so pretty to see on your face.

“Can’t tell if you have mommy or daddy issues or both?”

“Mommy issues. You can give me daddy issues though.” His glare is so cute you can’t stop the soft smile on your lips, as you lean up, body reeling from him.

“Should beat you, I swear. I’ll grab water.” You nod, and he leaves for a moment, you lean up, his cum leaking out of you, you search for any part that feels just a little guilty for fucking and stealing your mom’s man.

But it’s not there.

You see a picture of them on the side table then, sitting up and frowning a bit as he comes back, boxers slipped on, a blunt and lighter along with water. “Wanna smoke, sweetheart?”

“You’re corrupting me, step dad.”

“I swear to god stop.” You grin again, as he sits next to you, frowning as you study the photo. “Throw it out.”

“No…” you take his lighter and light the flame, burning the image of your mother and letting it die out in the ashtray, before handing the lighter back to him. “I burned all my sashes and dresses too.”

“Part of me wants to see you in a pageant dress, but the other part knows how much you hated it.” He says softly, watching the picture burn and lighting up a blunt now. “I’d fuck you in a sash and tiara though, nothing else.”

“Would you now?” You tease, he nods, inhaling the smoke, and handing the blunt to you, his perfect body covered in dripping sweat from you. “I may have one I didn’t get rid of.”

“Shit, don’t make it hard again.” You’re straddling him, inhaling the blunt and blowing the smoke into his mouth, he’s gripping your waist, already hard under his boxers, as you two fall into each other, each finding the other’s issues unreasonably hot, both damaged as fuck and honestly morally grey - but you really don’t mind fucking your mom’s ex boyfriend all night until you’re dripping his cum.

Your mom never does call you again - what a shame :’) 

Sooo the pageant mom idea was fromm @huntyhuntycunty , also took inspo from them having met before from @yenayaps ! alsoo ty @blkkizzat for making me motivated to finally finish this hehe I love you girls <3

taglistt- @doulcha @chiyokoemilia @emonaculate @vladsgirlxx @bookished @ureuphoriasworld @rawwrrgal @rousouhouuu @ovela @4evahevah @sugucultfollower @maddy44 @disappointedpeaches @princess-bblgm @astrasworldsblog @nazzysworld13 @gojos1wife1 @selenerium @jkslaugh97 @satoruxsc @thecookiebratz @kaylarilla @ajd1111 @mo0nforme @yoimiyamain2932 @pinkfqiry @plznomonkeys @pandabiene5115 @thelostkira @lushjunkie @mochibunnex @mrsimpurity @coralbae @curlyhairkk @dollieeees @xixflower @ayumilk @leviskittywh0re @nx-0w @mahalsuya @sugarcoatedsoul @afrohani @ineedtofeedmycat @kinnimi @erensfavve @vvaoo

[madamechrissy]

this was so toxic lol

[6x-x9]

˖ Ი𐑼 ⋆ 𝓜 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢.ᐟ takes you apart with his mouth first, then his dick! ꒰pussy job ⋮⋮ spitting ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ cervic kissing ⋮⋮ tummy bulge ⋮⋮ c-pied꒱

The room felt thick with heat. You were on the bed, body arched just the way he liked it. Chest pressed firm into the soft sheets, back dipped low, ass raised high and presented to him like an offering. Toji stood behind you for a moment, his large hands resting on your hips. He'd been waiting for this. Craving it all damn day. Your pretty pussy glistening under the low light, already slick from the tension building between you.

He dropped to his knees slowly. The mattress dipped under his weight as he settled in close. His breath ghosted over your exposed skin, hot and heavy. Tongue out and hungry, he leaned in at last. The first lick dragged broad and wet from your dripping entrance upward. You shivered hard at the contact, nerves lighting up instantly.

Toji didn’t rush. He took his time spreading your pussy open with thick fingers, holding you wide for his gaze. You wiggled in his strong grip, unable to stay still as desire pulsed through you. His hold tightened, keeping you right where he wanted.

"Ahh Toji," you moaned, voice breaking sweetly into the quiet air.

He growled low against your flesh, the sound vibrating straight through your core. He held you firmly now, one hand steady on your hip. His tongue moved with purpose, licking in and around your hole in slow, teasing strokes. The tip of his tongue wormed its way into your tight hole, pushing past the tight resistance and making your thighs tremble.

You gasped, fingers clutching the sheets beneath you. Toji's arm snaked around your waist then, hugging you close to his face as he buried himself deeper. His face pressed fully between your ass cheeks, mouth latched onto your cunt like he couldn’t get enough. He sucked hard, slurping noisily, the wet sounds filling the room and making your cheeks burn with heat.

His eyes closed in pure bliss. He inhaled deeply, breathing you in, then exhaled warm against your sensitive skin. The rhythm of it drove you wild, his hunger so raw and open. When he needed air he pulled back just enough, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, leaving little red marks that only turned you on more.

Spit and slick strung between his lips and your pussy, glistening and messy. Toji stared at it for a second, breathing ragged, before he dove right back in. He licked with fresh intensity, gathering more spit on his tongue and spreading everything. He painted it all from your dripping cunt up to your asshole, leaving no inch untouched, claiming every bit of your soft flesh with his mouth.

You moaned again, pushing back against his face as much as his grip allowed. Toji only held you tighter, devouring you like a man starved. His tongue flicked and swirled, dipping inside once more before sliding up to circle your tight ring. The mix of sensations made your head spin. Pleasure building fast and heavy in your stomach as every lap of his tongue pushes you closer to the edge.

He pulled back for another breath, strings of spit connecting him to your soaked folds. "Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, voice rough with need. Then he was on you again, mouth latching tight, sucking your clit between his lips while two thick fingers teased your entrance.

Your body rocked back towards his face with each movement. The way he hugged your waist kept you locked in place, unable to escape the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, alternating between long, flat licks and pointed thrusts of his tongue, spreading your wetness and sticky slick everywhere, nails digging in harder when his hunger took over completely, pulling you back onto his face, rough and eagerly.

Time stretched out in that haze of heat and slick sounds. Toji ate you like he had all night, like he would never get enough of your taste, your scent, the way you moaned his name. He worked your pussy and ass with relentless focus, spit dripping down your thighs, mixing with your own arousal.

You felt yourself clenching around nothing, desperate for more, but his mouth kept you right there on the brink. He hummed against your cunt, the vibration shooting sparks up your spine. Another deep inhale, another messy slurp, as he spread you even wider with his hands.

The pleasure coiled tighter. Your moans grew louder, breath coming in short gasps against the bed. Toji didn't stop. He licked and sucked and explored every fold, every sensitive spot, until your legs shook uncontrollably in his grasp.

He pulled away just long enough to growl against your skin. "That's it. Let me hear you, Doll." Then his tongue was back, borrowing deep, spreading more spit and slick in messy strokes from your cunt all the way to your asshole.

You were lost in it. Completely his in that moment, arched and open and dripping for Toji's hungry mouth. He showed no signs of slowing down, face buried deep, arms locked around you, devouring every bit of pleasure he could pull from your body. The night was young, and he had been waiting far too long to stop now.

Your body trembled under the steady rhythm he set. Toji began fucking his tongue into you deeper, pulling you back and forth on his tongue with those powerful hands. Each tug dragged your dripping cunt along the thick muscle, forcing it in and out in a filthy rhythm that left you gasping into the sheets. The wet sounds grew louder, messier, as he devoured you without mercy.

You could barely think straight. Pleasure crashed through every nerve. His grip stayed iron tight around your waist, keeping you arched and open for him. He hummed against your flesh, eyes still closed in pure satisfaction, breathing you in like he needed it to survive.

But it wasn't enough for him. Not anymore. Toji finally had enough. He pulled back with a low growl, strings of spit and your slick stretching between his mouth and your soaked pussy. He stood up behind you, towering and impatient. In one swift motion he shoved his sweatpants down his hips. His cock sprang free, leaking pre cum, veined and heavy, throbbing in the cool air of the room.

You glanced back over your shoulder, breath catching at the sight. Toji wrapped one large hand around the thick length, stroking himself slowly as he eyed your glistening hole. He pressed the fat tip to your pussy first, rubbing it teasingly over your swollen clit. The contact sent sparks shooting through you, making your hips twitch.

He dragged the head down to your entrance next, teasing the sensitive rim. You whimpered softly, pushing back against him, desperate for more. Toji chuckled darkly, low and rough. Before he pushed in he spat, letting a thick string of saliva drop from his lips onto his cock and your pussy. The warm spit mixed with your wetness, making everything even slicker.

Then he pushed in just enough. The fat head stretched your tight walls, splitting you open slowly. You moaned loud at the burn, the delicious pressure of him filling you. Toji groaned deep in his chest, one hand still gripping your hip while the other guided his cock.

He held still for a moment, savoring the way your pussy clenched around his tip. His thumb rubbed circles on your skin, almost soothing, but the hunger in his eyes told you he was far from done. With a sharp thrust of his hips he sank deeper, inch by thick inch, stretching you wider than his tongue ever could.

"Fuck, so tight for me," he muttered, voice gravelly with lust. He kept one hand on your waist, the other sliding up your back to press you harder into the bed. Your chest stayed flush against the sheets, ass high, taking every bit of him as he worked himself inside you.

Toji started moving then, slow at first, pulling back until just the tip remained before sliding back in. Each thrust grew a little harder, a little deeper, his heavy balls pressing against your clit with every drive forward. The spit and slick made it obscene, wet smacks echoing as skin met skin.

You wiggled again in his grasp, overwhelmed by how full you felt. He only held you firmer, fingernails digging into your flesh once more. His pace picked up steadily, pounding into you with that raw strength. Sweat beaded on his skin, dripping down onto your back as he fucked you exactly the way he wanted.

He leaned over you, chest brushing your arched back, lips grazing your ear. "Been thinking about this pussy all day." His cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, making your toes curl. You moaned his name again, the sound muffled by the bed but still clear enough to spur him on.

Deep, powerful strokes that shook your whole body. His veined cock stretched you perfectly, leaking more pre cum inside your heat. The angle kept your ass up high, letting him hit so deep your lower tummy started filling out, bulging softly with his cock pressing deeper into you.

He pulled back and spat again, another thick string landing right where you were joined, adding to the mess. The extra lubrication let him slide even easier and faster, driving into you with relentless hunger. Your pussy fluttered around him, squeezing tight as pleasure built higher and higher.

Toji growled, one hand leaving your hip to reach around and rub your clit in firm circles. "Come on, give it to me." His thrusts never faltered, pounding steadily while his fingers worked you closer to the edge. The combined sensation had you shaking, moans spilling freely now.

He fucked you like he owned you, like he had been starving for this exact feeling. Pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, burying himself to the hilt over and over. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping, wet squelching, and your shared heavy breathing.

You felt yourself tipping closer, body tensing under him. Toji sensed it too, doubling down on his pace, slamming into you harder. His cock throbbed inside your walls, veins dragging deliciously with each movement. He kept rubbing your clit, never letting up, determined to push you over.

Toji stayed buried deep, hands soothing over your skin where he had gripped so hard. Pressing a lazy kiss to your spine, cock still twitching inside your pussy. To him, right now in this moment you were everything being under him, to feel your body against his, to feel you struggle and then take all of his cock, felt like a dream.

Toji straightened up, gripping both your hips now, and really began to rail into you. Deep, powerful strokes shaking your whole body. His veined cock stretched you perfectly, leaking more pre cum inside your heat. The angle kept your ass up high, letting him hit so deep you saw stars with every thrust.

He fucked the thick length of his cock even deeper, reaching that soft opening to your cervix. Each powerful drive pressed against it, sending sharp waves of pleasure pain through your core. Your pussy grew creamier around him, the messy slick coating every inch of his shaft. A thick white ring formed at the base of his cock, evidence of how wet and used you were becoming under his relentless pace.

Toji groaned low, eyes fixed on the sight of himself disappearing inside you. He pulled back slow only to slam forward harder, burying himself to the hilt again and again. The wet squelching sounds filled the room, mixing with your broken moans and his heavy breaths. Sweat dripped from his chest onto your arched back, marking you as his.

He kept that steady rhythm, hips snapping forward with controlled strength. His balls slapped against your clit on every thrust, adding sparks of sensation that made your toes curl tight. Your walls fluttered around his thick length, squeezing him as the pressure built impossibly higher inside you.

Then he pressed deeper, grinding against your cervix with a deliberate roll of his hips. That was all it took. You started to cum hard, milking him with rhythmic pulses that gripped his cock like a vice. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shaking uncontrollably in his firm hold. Moans spilled from your lips without control, face buried in the sheets as you rode it out.

Toji growled at the feeling, his own release rushing forward fast. He started to cum right after you, filling you up with hot, thick spurts of cum, deep inside. He kept thrusting through it, pumping every drop into your clenching pussy while you milked him dry. The warmth flooded you completely, mixing with your own cream and making an even bigger mess.

He stayed buried for a moment, savouring the way your bodies pulsed together. Finally, he pulled out slowly. Cum spilled from your stretched hole the second he left you empty, but still full, dripping down your thighs in messy white trails. He watched it with dark satisfaction, one hand still gripping your hip to keep you in place.

Toji ran his thumb through the leaking mix, spreading it over your sensitive skin. "Look at that," he murmured, voice rough and pleased. He pushed two fingers back inside you briefly, stirring the cum deeper before pulling them out again. More spilled out, coating your pussy and making it glisten.

You trembled beneath him, body spent and glowing from the intensity. Toji leaned down, pressing soft kisses along your spine while his hands soothed over your sides. His cock rested heavy against your ass, still half hard and slick with both of you. He wasn't done admiring the sight of his work, the way your hole fluttered and pushed out more of his cum.

He flipped you gently onto your back then, spreading your legs wide to see everything. His eyes drank in the creamy mess between your thighs, the way it leaked steadily onto the sheets. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he stroked himself slowly, already thinking about the next round.

You reached up for him, pulling him down into a heated kiss. Toji sank against you, his weight comforting after his rough treatment. A hand slipping between your legs again, fingers playing in the slick cum as he kissed you deeper. The night enclosing you both, filled with his hunger and your shared pleasure. He had claimed you thoroughly, and he planned to keep doing it until neither of you could move.

[satorussolace]

GOLDEN BROWN

With the political crisis your kingdom is in, your father arranges you into an unwanted marriage with the notorious Prince Gojo—an elegant solution to keep two powerful kingdoms from tearing each other apart. Despite your hopes for the kind of love you’ve always dreamt of, Prince Gojo is everything the rumors said he was: lustful, untouchable, and emotionally closed off in ways you couldn’t begin to fathom. And when the suffocation of court life finally drives you beyond ballroom walls and polished smiles—you find yourself wandering in the palace gardens. It is there in those gardens, that you find your true salvation in a man who looks at you in the way you’ve always craved—like a human being rather than a title.

pairings: suguru geto x princess!reader x prince!gojo

content/warnings: renaissance au, arranged marriages, toxic relationships, angst, tension tension tension, patriarchy, love triangle, infidelity, morally grey characters, lots of political drama, fluff, not super accurate to the renaissance era

notes: I’m so so excited for this! I’m not sure how many chapters this series will include but I’m hoping for at least five. This is my first fic on here, so please be kind! I’m open to any advice. I’ll be posting the masterlist soon after I post this. Sorry for any cliches

fanart by ladycapuccino on pinterest

comment to be in the taglist !

playlist — next chapter — masterlist

It had been twenty-four hours since your freedom was cast off to a stranger. Twenty-four hours since your lips were forced to kiss the man you unwillingly married, the man you were supposed to love from now on.

You always knew it would happen, you just didn’t expect it to feel so worthless and fake. You were supposed to be able to choose.

You now sat motionless before your vanity as another pin was pressed into your hair. Gold glimmered in the mirror, catching on the decorative jewels that were woven through the strands of your hair. Behind you, servants rushed around your chamber with excitement that you couldn’t seem to feel.

“His highness requested the rubies,” one maid whispered.

“No, it was the pearls. The Queen specifically said-”

“I heard there will be guests from six kingdoms-”

You stared at your reflection, searching for someone you recognized. The crown resting atop your head felt heavier than it ever felt before.

Wife.

The title settled uneasily in your chest. You could hardly even remember the vows you repeated to your husband.

Even with the cheers echoing through your kingdom, the smiles from your parents, and the bells ringing from every tower in the capital, you could only think about how cold his hands felt on yours.

A knock sounded at the door, prompting for all the maids to go silent.

The door opened before anyone could answer and in stepped your mother, the queen of your kingdom.

“My dear, you look beauteous,” she exclaimed, running her hands across your bare shoulders.

“Thank you, mother,” you smiled faintly, tilting your gaze to the floor.

A slow pause came from your mother. “What’s wrong, my dear?” She whispered, squeezing your shoulders.

“Why is a ceremonial ball necessary?” You complained, eyeing the masquerade mask resting on your vanity.

She sighed, “Don’t you want to celebrate your marriage?”

“Why should I?” You replied, furrowing your eyebrows. “He didn’t even lay with me last night, mother.”

“So I’ve heard,” she says, shaking her head in disapproval. “I wish you could be betrothed to anyone else, but we need this,” she frowned, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Please, mother,” you pleaded, clutching on the silk of her gown. “Please, don’t make me stay with him.”

Tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill as you buried your face into her dress. For a moment, her arms came around you, holding you just as she had when you were a child afraid of thunderstorms.

“My darling,” she said softly.

The endearment only made you cry harder.

“Do you think I wished this for you?”

“Then stop it,” you sobbed desperately, “Tell father to make amends another way.”

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “If it was that easy, I would have done so long ago.” Gently, she cupped your face in her hands and lifted your chin.

“Listen to me, you are a princess. There are burdens placed upon us that we do not choose.”

“I don’t want burdens,” you cried out. “I want a life that’s my own.”

Pain flickered across her features so quickly you almost missed it. “As did I,” she muttered, quiet enough that you could hardly make it out. “Fix your tears, you need to be strong, my dear.”

You let go of her gown, wiping away at your eyes. “I want you to have fun at the ball tonight,” she paused. “Please, for me.”

“Okay,” You hiccuped, giving a small nod.

“Be brave, my love.”

The words were warm against your chest, providing the only sense of comfort you’ve had for days.

Without another word, she pressed a kiss against your forehead before turning toward the door. You watched as she paused at the threshold, her hand lingering on the doorframe as if she wished to say something more.

Whatever it was, she swallowed it, clicking the door shut behind her. Your maids quickly rushed beside you, patting away at your flushed face.

“Your highness, I must redo your makeup,” one of your maids told, brushing products on your face.

“I’m sure he’ll grow to love you so much, your highness,” another maid added. “You’re too beautiful to be cast off by a man.”

You smiled, chuckling slightly. “I appreciate that.”

A soft laugh escaped one of the maids as she moved behind you, tightening the bodice on your torso. “Still, it’s a fortunate match. You and Prince Gojo are some of the finest of the lands.”

The words that should’ve comforted you, wore on you like the heaviest of silk.

“Fortunate,” you repeated under your breath, almost tasting the word.

Another maid grabbed the velvet mask off your vanity—maroon and ivory, matching with the colors of your gown. Filigree curled like vines across its surface. “Your mask, your highness,” she said, gently placing the mask on your face.

“It’s gorgeous,” you smiled. The mask covered a small part of your face, resting just atop your eyes.

“Compliments your features perfectly, your highness.”

The room bustled once again—adjusted hairpins, jewelry clasped. Somewhere beyond the hall of your bedroom, music began to swell.

“Looks like the ball is beginning, princess!” One of your maids exclaimed.

The final pin slid into place, and your reflection in the mirror looked almost unreal. Your hair was perfectly pulled back into a delicate hairstyle, maroon hairpins adorning the braids. Velvet gloves that matched with the color of your dress ran up your arms, stopping right above your elbow.

The distant sound of music drifted through the thick palace walls, laughter already spilling down corridors. A sigh escaped your lips.

“Time to go.”

Gathering the skirts of your gown, you rose from your seat. The maids hurried to each side of you, smoothing down any wrinkles before stepping back to admire their work.

“You look stunning, your highness,” one of them said with a proud smile.

You offered a grateful nod, twirling in your mirror. “I must show Nanami!” You exclaimed.

“Your chaperone is waiting right outside your door, my lady,” a maid informed.

“Kento! Come inside, you fool!” You called, shouting over the noise inside your room.

The large door of your chamber creaked open gently. Stepping in was your loyal companion, Kento Nanami, appointed by your father to serve as your personal chaperone and sworn protector.

“Your Highness,” he bowed, polished shoes clicking softly against the marble floor. He adjusted the cuffs of his impeccable coat, taking in your appearance.

“Look at this dress, how wonderful,” you breathed, tilting to the side and slightly lifting your skirts.

“It is very beautiful,” he admitted with a soft smile. Some of the tension in your chest eased. If there was one person in your life who never failed to steady you, it was him.

“Where is your mask? You must wear it,” you stepped to him, feeling his velvety coat.

“In my pocket,” he informed, pulling out the navy blue mask from his back pocket.

“Put it on,” you dragged out the last of your sentence, snickering at the annoyed expression that sat on his face.

A sigh left his mouth, “You will be the death of me.” Once the mask was worn on his pale face, the two of you began walking down to the ballroom.

The corridor stretched long beneath the sunset seeping through the large windows, shadows flickering against gilded walls as you and Nanami walked in synchronization.

Your steps echoed softly against the polished marble floor, each one feeling heavier than the last. “Ken,” you called softly, tilting your gaze his way.

“Yes, my princess?”

“I’m nervous,” you sighed. Somewhere ahead, the music sounded louder—strings and laughter blending into a single hum.

“You? Nervous of a ball?” He snickered in disbelief.

“It’s not the ball, I-I’m just scared to see Prince Gojo,” you babbled as you held a white knuckled grip around your torso.

A long sigh followed Nanami. “He will not cause any harm, I’m sure of it,” he declared softly.

“I don’t think he will cause me any harm, I’m just afraid of my future with him,” you confessed, playing with the jewelry adorning your neck.

“I’m sorry that you feel this way, your highness,” he said, sparing you a look of sympathy. You gave him a tight lipped smile before letting out a shaky breath.

A pair of guards bowed as you passed beneath an archway leading to the grand staircase.

“Your highness,” one murmured.

You gave a small nod in response, fingers tightening around the edge of your bodice. Kento continued walking at your side, silent and composed. Candlelight lined the long corridor in golden pools, but even that warmth couldn’t settle the cold twisting in your chest. Every step you took pulled you closer to what awaited behind those ballroom doors sitting at the end of the hallway.

You hesitated for a moment as you reached the threshold. Kento seemingly noticed immediately. “I’ll be by your side the entire time,” he muttered, resting his arm on your lower back.

You smiled at his gesture before your attention drifted to the ballroom once more. The guards straightened as you approached. One gave a quiet announcement, and at once, the heavy doors began to open.

A swell of music poured out, now louder and more overwhelming than before. Golden light spilled into the hallway and conversation surged like a living tide. The vastness of the palace ballroom never failed to amaze you.

Towering chandeliers of pale crystals hung from the painted ceilings, scattering the brightest of lights across the room. The floor gleamed like polished glass, reflecting the swirl of silks, jewels, and masked faces moving in elegance. Music filled every corner of the space, strings falling and rising like a heartbeat.

Heads turned as you passed, masked nobles dipped into bows with lingering eyes following your presence. You could feel the attention flowing off of you, the weight of it pressing against your skin.

Nanami guided you forward with calm precision, never rushing or hesitating with his steps.

Somewhere deeper in the hall, the music seemed to blur as the crowd parted. As if someone important waited ahead.

“I think the prince is ahead,” Kento whispered in your ear, slightly tightening his hold on your waist.

You nodded your head quickly, holding your hands carefully at your side. You straightened your posture slightly, trying to keep the flawless image that never faltered.

His appearance was as clear as day, white hair bustling over the luxurious ivory mask with small pops of light blue that matched his eyes. His robes were adorned with pale gold jewelry, the chandelier light ricocheting off of the luxury that was Prince Gojo.

The weight of his gaze locked onto you with quiet precision, the warmth that once followed you seemed to fade instantly. Then he moved—the shift was hardly even there before he began slowly stepping towards you. The crowd parted for him, like it was molded around his silhouette.

“Your highness,” he spoke slow and controlled, keeping eye contact with you as he bowed. “Lord Nanami,” he nodded his head.

“Prince Gojo,” you bowed in return, resting your hands near your lap.

“Please, call me Satoru,” he smirked, extending his hand towards you. “Will you give me the honor of sharing this dance with you?

Your stomach twisted as his hand extended out to you. Around you, the ballroom seemed to hold its breath, dozens of masked faces watching you. Refusing would never be an option. You swallowed hard, placing your gloved hand in his “I don’t believe you’ve earned that familiarity yet, Satoru.”

He lowly chucked, “And how must I earn that familiarity?” He asked, guiding you onto the ballroom floor. Around you, couples swayed rhythmically to the saccharine music flowing throughout the room.

You stared at your joined hands before lifting your gaze back to his. “I don’t believe that’s something you earn in one evening, your highness.”

“Well, it’s fortunate that we have considerably longer than one evening.” Your jaw tightened at the humor laced within his tone.

His hand found its resting place on your waist, guiding you through the dance. “Must you always have an answer prepared?” You snapped, stepping on top of his polished shoes.

He stumbled only slightly before regaining his placing. “An unfortunate accident, I presume.”

“Precisely,” you responded, twirling around with the help of his hands.

“How reassuring,” he quipped, amusement dancing in his pale eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend to like me,” you muttered, avoiding the sharpness of his gaze with a tilt of your head.

“And you don’t have to pretend to hate me quite so much,” he replied smoothly.

Your grip on his hand tightened. “I don’t hate you,” you replied, shaking your head gently.

One pale brow rose.

“No?”

“No.” You swallowed. “I hardly know you.”

“Fair enough,” he flatly replied, a hint of amusement flickered over his pale features.

The orchestra swelled around you, drowning out the bustling conversation of nearby nobles. “You know,” you continued. “What I really hate is how everyone expects me to smile as if this is what I wanted.”

For the first time that evening, he did not have an immediate retort. “And if I told you that I understand?” He asked quietly, the teasing blue glint that had occupied his eyes once before had dissolved into something you couldn’t quit decipher.

“What exactly is it that you understand?” You asked.

His hand reminded steady against your waist as he guided you through another turn. “Being told your future before you can even grasp the chance to choose it.”

For a moment, you searched his expression for mockery. You found none. “So what? You expect me to believe that?” You quietly asked.

A faint smile returned to his lips. “No, I expect you’ll continue assuming the worst with me.”

“You haven’t given me much reason to do otherwise,” you dumbfounded. “You’re unfaithful, don’t think I didn’t hear you down the hall last night.”

“And you’ve given me every reason to believe you’d rather be dancing with literally anyone else in this room,” he tightened his grip on your waist.

“Oh, so you’re just going to ignore my last statement?” You snarled. Gojo smirked before spinning you and pulling you back in aggressively.

You slammed against his body, remaining in his hold the entire time. You glared up at him, “How mature.”

He chuckled, unfazed by the venom in your tone. “Coming from the woman who’s made a miserable attempt at crushing my toes this evening, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Asshole,” you mumbled, generously taking your gaze away from him.

“What was that?” he said lightly, you only shook your head.

For the rest of the dance, the two of you moved like two pieces to a puzzle—flawlessly in sync. Every step you took, he matched immediately. Every turn you tried to make sharper, he made the adjustment without effort, like he could read the intention behind your movement before you even committed to it.

The moment the dance ended, you stepped away from him before another word could be exchanged. Lords and ladies smiled as you passed, offering shallow congratulations and small remarks about producing a future heir.

You couldn’t bear another minute of it.

Excusing yourself with a strained smile, you slipped through the crowd and out onto the palace’s quieter corridors, occasionally peeking behind your shoulder to make sure there were no unwanted guests. Your feet carried you without though to the one place you could find genuine solitude in—an old, private garden near the back of the palace.

You had fatefully stumbled upon the garden as a young girl in the midst of a childish adventure. Since then, it had became a source of escape from your life and the responsibilities that come with being a princess. No one would ever think to look for you there, you didn’t even think anyone but you knew of this place.

Hidden away behind overgrown hedges and forgotten stone paths, it had felt like a secret tailored for you. There were no lessons to attend, no courtiers to impress, and no one looking to pick apart your every flaw.

The moment you’d stepped through the ivy-covered archway, the composure you’d maintained had finally cracked. You sank onto the edge of an old stone bench, pressing a trembling hand over your mouth. This wasn’t how you imagined adulthood. This wasn’t how you imagined marriage.

Hot tears blurred your vision despite the efforts to blink them away. Frustrated, you wiped at your cheeks only for more to follow. Quiet sobs escaped your burning throat, stealing your breath away.

“I was under the impression that princesses enjoyed their celebrations.”

The unfamiliar voice made you jerk upright, your head snapping toward the nearby path.

A man stood at the mouth of the gardene, partially obscured by the shadows cast by the overgrown bushes. Moonlight spilled across his features, revealing sharp eyes hidden behind an onyx mask and dark hair that had been loosely pulled back from his face. He was dressed in dark formal attire that told you he must’ve been a diplomat, there was an unmistakable elegance to him—as though he belonged where he chose to stand.

Unlike most people, he didn’t rush over, didn’t act like he hadn’t seen anything. Instead, he offered a small, almost sheepish incline of his head.

“My apologies,” he said. “If I had known the garden was occupied, I would’ve chosen a different path.”

Mortification flooded through you. Out of all the times anyone could’ve found you tonight, why did it have to be now?

Yet, there was something strange about him. He wasn’t staring at you. He wasn’t pitying you. He simply waited, like he was giving you the choice to send him away.

“W-Who are you?” You asked, quickly wiping away the remnants of tears from your cheeks.

The stranger seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if he was debating whether or not he should show you his identity.

“Suguru Geto,” he offered a small bow. “Though I fear my timing hasn’t allowed me to make the first impression I would prefer.”

You pursed your lips, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “You think?”

A faint smile touched his lips, warm enough to ease some of the tension coiled in your chest. “You needn’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” Raising his finger to his lips, he offered a playful gesture of secrecy.

“How do I know that you won’t tell?” You asked, voice full of doubt.

Geto’s smile softened. “I guess you don’t, hm?” He said with a tilt of his head.

The answer caught you off guard. Most men of the court would have rushed to reassure you, drowning you in promises and flattery. Yet he simply stood there, hands clasped behind his back with no attempt to hide the truth.

“Trust isn’t something granted because of a request,” he continued. “It’s earned.”

“You’re correct,” you replied softly, unimpressed by the wisdom he displayed.

His gaze returned to you. “For tonight, all I can offer you is my word.”

“I guess I’ll just have to take it,” you deadpanned.

“If that isn’t enough, I suppose I’ll have to spent the rest of our acquaintance proving myself trustworthy,” he said with a small shrug.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh?” You let out a quiet snort. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I suppose you’ll just have to find out.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”

For a moment, a comfortable silence settled between you. Geto glanced around the garden before returning his attention to you.

“It’s beautiful here,” he added, sitting down on the bench you occupied.

“You think so?” you asked with a soft smile, crossing your legs in his direction. He nodded his head, “I do.”

“Most people don’t even know this place exists.”

“Then I consider myself fortunate, your highness,” he replied, his lips curving into a smirk.

The comment drew the faintest smile from you. “I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”

“To hide?” He chuckled.

You huffed a laugh, “Something like that.”

“And does it still work?”

The question lingered between you as your eyes drifted towards the radiant palace lights. “Always.” You hadn’t expected for him to actually make conversation with you, to actually acknowledge your feelings.

For the first time, Geto’s expression softened behind his mask. “Then perhaps it is a good hiding place after all.”

A quiet laugh escaped before you could stop it. “I suppose it is.”

The two of you fell silent once more, your eyes occupied on a pile of black dahlias dug into the ground. Geto glanced toward the palace in the distance where music still danced in the night air.

“Shouldn’t you be with your husband?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

The question caught you off guard, you gaze immediately dropping to the gravel beneath your shoes. You sighed, “Probably.”

Geto hummed thoughtfully. “That didn’t sound very convincing,” he replied. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Paradise?” You snickered. “That’s one way to describe it.”

Geto’s expression seemed to pause. “Not a fan of your husband, hm?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest. “I barely even know him.” Your answer came quicker than intended.

“And yet you’re married to him.” His deep violet eyes bored into yours as if he was searching for something in them.

“Yeah, that’s usually how arranged marriages work,” you deadpanned. He chuckled lightly, running his chiseled fingers through his raven tresses. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t have a wife,” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“What makes you think that?” A hint of amusement danced in his dark eyes as he regarded you.

You paused, shaking your head with a tilted smile. “You just don’t seem like the kind of guy to be single, is all,” you replied.

Another laugh escaped him, richer this time. “What are you trying to say, my princess?” The title rolled effortlessly off his tongue.

Crimson rose to your cheeks, “You’re charming,” you shrugged, leaning back into the bench slowly.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Charming?”

You sighed, unbeknownst to what you’ve gotten yourself into. “Yes, annoyingly so.”

A pleasant smile spread across his features. “I’m truly flattered, your highness.”

“Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

“And here I thought it was a compliment,” he pouted, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“It wasn’t,” you hastily replied, brushing your hands against the pieces of hair that fell against your face.

“I wasn’t aware of how cruel the Princess could be,” he scoffed playfully. “The rumors had me fooled.”

“Rumors?” Your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. “And what do those rumors tell?”

A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “That you’re kind,” he spoke wisely, counting the rumors off on his fingers.

“Graceful.”

Then another.

“Patient.” His gaze flickered meaningfully toward you. “And, apparently, incapable of saying anything remotely insulting.”

A laugh escaped you despite the efforts you made to keep it hidden. “I’d like to say that they aren’t completely bogus rumors.”

“No?”

You shook your head. “I’m kind to those who deserve my kindness.”

“Am I lucky enough to be one of those individuals?” he questioned, slightly leaning closer towards you.

“We’ll see,” you said flatly with a soft shrug.

A quiet hum escaped him. “You’re a difficult woman to impress.”

“You noticed?”

“It’s becoming painfully obvious,” he said with a playful gaze.

Satisfaction overtook your features. “Good.”

Geto shook his head, a chuckle slipping past his soft lips. “Well, do you mind showing me around your hidden garden?”

You sat there for a moment, letting the question linger in between the presence of you both. “Why not?” You answered, pushing yourself off the stone bench.

What would be the trouble in showing him around, just a little?

Geto followed in pursuit, eyeing your silhouette generously. The scrutiny of his stare caused a soft heat to settle across your face, almost giving you away.

You dusted off your gloves as you walked, leading him down a narrow path in the garden brimmed with tall flowers that brushed against you as you passed. It began to feel less like a part of the estate and more like its own hidden world. Vines curled around old stone walls, and the air grew cooler, softer, like it belonged only to this place.

“There’s a beautiful bridge right up ahead, the pond below it has some pretty koi fish that you can feed,” you informed, turning around to make sure Geto was listening.

He nodded his head in amusement, “I’d love to see that.”

You turned your attention back to the sights in front of you. A soft smile tugged at your lips now that he couldn’t see, pleased that he felt interested.

Your heels fell silent against the overgrown grass as you guided him towards the stone bridge. The air nipped at your exposed skin, slipping beneath the velvet gloves that crept halfway up your arms.

You wrapped your arms around yourself without thinking, fingers brushing your upper arms for warmth. Beside you, Geto’s attention shifted, you could tell he noticed.

“You’re cold,” he said simply, like an observation rather than a question.

“I’m fine,” you replied too quickly, eyes focused on the way the garden bathed in a pool of milky, tranquil light provided by the full moon.

The sound of fabric moving interrupted the silence that followed you. Something warm settled over your shoulders, resting against you like it belonged there. You stilled, realizing it was his coat—heavy, unfamiliar, carrying the pleasant scent of him.

“You don’t have to, really,” you dismissed, yet you didn’t bother prying it off you.

“I want to,” he replied rather quickly, now covered in a thin white shirt that clung lightly to his frame, the fabric sheer enough to reveal the outline of his chiseled torso.

You quickly turned your head just as a warmth began to climb up your neck. You could feel his fox-like eyes watching you, making the sudden interest you had found in the surrounding garden seem entirely unconvincing.

“Okay-um, this is the bridge,” you stammered, avoiding his gaze as you motioned toward the arching stone path. The heat creeping towards your cheeks only intensified when a soft chuckle sounded from beside you, confirming he had realized you were flustered.

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands. “It’s a very nice bridge,” Geto offered after a moment.

You finally glanced at him, doing your very best to keep your eyes on the faint smile tugging at his lips and not at his bare torso beneath the flimsy shirt he wore. “You are impossible.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. You tore your gaze away, but not before it betrayed you, flickering downward for the briefest moment. Unfortunately for you, it was long enough for Geto’s sly eyes.

The knowing look that crossed his face made your stomach twist in embarrassment. “You seem distracted,” he mused.

Your stomach dropped. “No, not at all,” you replied quicker than you intended to. Geto regarded you for a moment before a small smile settled on his sharp features. “Of course.”

The obvious disbelief in his voice made you sigh, yet, he didn’t press any further. Instead, he stepped beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as the two of you continued to cross the bridge.

Your heels tapped a steady rhythm against the stone path, the sound mingling with the rustle of leaves overhead and the gentle rush of water beneath the bridge. You came to a stop at the middle of the bridge, peeking over at the fish that swam elegantly through the water.

“I didn’t bring anything to feed them today, unfortunately,” you said, resting your forearms against the stone railing.

Geto stepped beside you, following your gaze to the water below. Moonlight danced across the surface, scattering fragments of silver over the fish as they drifted lazily below the bridge. Your reflection wavered as the current moved—distorted, soft around the edges. Beside it, his reflection accompanied yours, slightly offset compared to you. Side by side, even in the water, though neither of you moved closer.

Geto leaned forward a little, his mirrored gaze meeting yours beneath the rippling surface. “Not very flattering,” he remarked lightly.

You huffed a quiet laugh, “Water reflections rarely are.”

Eventually, you straightened, brushing your fingers lightly against the old stone. “Come on,” you said, glancing toward the path ahead. “There’s more further up.”

You stepped forward first, leaving the bridge behind. After a beat, you heard him follow, feet clicking against the firm stone. You guided him through a small forest, occasionally smoothing your hands over flowers that stuck out to you.

Roots curled beneath the earth like hidden veins as the path narrowed deeper into the garden. You held up the long skirts of your dress, stepping gingerly over every sharp weed that threatened to rip your skirt.

Eventually, the garden’s path opened again, revealing a weeping willow tree. It whipped and rustled through the wind in the most delicate way possible, draping itself in a way that made it look like it was bowing.

“This is my favorite thing out of the entire garden,” you informed, reaching your hand out to graze one of the elongated leaves.

“A weeping willow,” he continued. “How lovely.”

You smiled at his admiration. “I’m glad we share the same opinion.”

The branches swayed gently above you, trailing like brushes of green that painted the air in slow, quiet movements. The shade beneath the tree was cooler, the moonlight broken into sporadic patterns across the ground. You hugged his coat tighter against you, hoping for more warmth.

Geto stepped a little closer, tilting his head as he looked up through the hanging leaves. “It’s so…quiet,” his husky voice interrupted the silence. “I can see why you favorite it.”

You glanced his way, finding his large frame beneath the willow’s cascading branches. “It’s easier to think here,” you admitted after a moment.

“Or to avoid thinking,” he replied lightly.

You scoffed under your breath, though there was no real bite to it. “That depends on the day.”

His mouth curved into a smile. “And today?”

You hesitated, then looked away first. “I suppose today is somewhere in between.”

A quiet hum escaped him, as if he accepted that answer without needing more.

“Geto?” You called gently.

At the sound of his name, his attention sharpened, his head turning toward you as his gaze settled on your face. “Hm?” He answered, voice nothing short of calm.

“I appreciate how understanding you’ve been, I don’t usually get to be this open with people,” you admitted softly, still holding onto a branch.

Geto looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable under the masquerade mask. “Of course, I’ve enjoyed this.”

A genuine smile crept across your face, even spreading through to your eyes. For a moment, you hesitated—your eyes lingering on the mask that covered half of his face. “Don’t you think I should be able to see your entire face?” You asked playfully, tilting your head.

Geto let out a quiet hum, almost amused. “And why is that?” He replied, tone light but measured.

You shrugged, trying to ignore how your heart had started to pick up pace. “It feels unfair. I’ve been talking to you this whole time, and I’m only getting half of the picture.”

That earned you a deep exhale of laughter from him. “Half of the picture might be preferable.”

“What? Are you hiding a monstrous face under there?” You snickered. “Or is that just your way of saying no?”

Geto exhaled softly, the sound carrying playful amusement. “If I were, I don’t think you would’ve gotten this far into our conversation.” He replied.

That made you pause, your smile faltering just a little as you looked at him more carefully. He didn’t seem to be hiding anything monstrous behind his mask—if anything, it seemed to be a silly thought. The part of his face you could see already gave you enough to imagine the rest: the sharp line of his jaw, the faint curve of his lips that always seemed to suggest he knew more than what he was saying.

He stepped closer—just enough for the space between you to feel noticeably smaller. “Besides,” he added, tone quieter now, “you were the one that brought me here.”

Your breath caught, though you tried not to show it. Yet, the creeping smirk on his face told you that he must’ve noticed. His hand rose to the edge of his mask, fingers pausing for a brief moment.

“Well, continue,” you said, ushering him with your hand.

“If I take off mine, you must return the favor,” he said, peering down at you.

Your brows lifted, “Fine, but you first.” A quiet pause followed your words.

Geto studied you for a moment, like he was making sure you were certain. “I suppose that’s fair,” he said, continuing to peel off his mask.

The fabric shifted slightly beneath his fingers before he lifted it away, revealing more of his face piece by piece. When it was finally gone, he didn’t immediately look away or break the moment. Instead, he simply watched you.

Without the barrier, his face felt different up close. It was striking, in a quiet, effortless way. A sharp jaw softened only by the ease of his expression, high cheekbones catching the moonlight that crept through the gaps in the willow leaves. His eyes held yours directly now.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of his face—he was so handsome, the kind of handsome you couldn’t even imagine. His eyes were the most arresting part, always focused and observant, noticing the slightest falter in your movement. Your mind stumbled on the idea of what it would feel like to be his lover. Would he look at you the same way he was doing currently? You quickly brushed away the thought, ashamed to be thinking of him in that way.

Suddenly, you felt very aware of yourself—of the pause in your breathing, of the way your stomach fluttered from his stare.

“Well?” He chuckled, “I’m starting to feel a bit insecure, your highness.”

That snapped you out of it. Your eyes widened slightly before you quickly recovered. “Don’t be dramatic,” you said, though it came out softer than you intended.

His smooth hands reached to cup your face, fingers grazing over the edges of your mask. You flushed, pupils widening with an unwavering stare. “Your turn,” he whispered, fingers sweeping across your cheekbones before he reached for your mask.

His touch was thoroughly gentle as he peeled off your mask, holding the back of your head to keep you still. You swallowed hard, now feeling self-conscious from his gaze.

A charming smile pried at his lips. “My princess, you are breathtaking,” he cooed, staring at you with a softened gaze.

Your face reddened, now that there were no barriers between the two of you, the interaction felt incredibly more intimate. You had never experienced anything such as this, being complimented like this by a man as handsome and charming as him.

“T-thank you,” you stammered, your eyes flickering to the grass beneath your feet. His hands stopped you, tilting your chin to meet his gaze. He leaned closer to you, deep brown eyes focused on your lips.

You quickly dodged him, breath hitched in your throat, “Geto, I’m-”

“You’re what?” He interrupted, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m married,” you whispered, shaking your head in rebellion. Despite your want, you couldn’t continue this. If your father found out-if anyone found out, you would be shunned.

The weight of your words didn’t seem to land the way you expected. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his expression shifted—confusion first, then something quieter. Not disbelief but like he was trying to understand if he had crossed a line.

His brows furrowed, “I thought you were unhappy with it?” He softly replied. His hands still lingered on your skin, providing a slimmer of warmth.

“I am,” you said quickly, then hesitated. The truth felt dangerous in your mouth. “Unhappy.”

A pause followed.

The distant sound of the garden—wind through leaves, water somewhere along the path, suddenly felt overwhelming. “But that doesn’t matter,” you added, forcing your voice steadier. “It’s already been decided. It’s done.”

His stare didn’t waver. If anything, it sharpened. “Decided by who?” He protested.

You should’ve stepped back, you should’ve ended it right there. Despite the consequences, you stayed still. “My father,” you said, grasping onto his shoulders. “If he ever found out I was with you tonight, he’d be furious!”

“So don’t let him find out,” he countered. His words settled beneath you like a spark dropped into dry grass. And for a moment, you almost laughed. Your grip on his shoulders tightened instinctively, more from panic than intention. The idea was so simple in his mouth, so reckless, like your father’s authority was just a matter of secrecy.

“You don’t understand,” you said, voice sharper now. “It’s not just ‘don’t let him find out.’ If he suspects anything—if anyone sees me here with you, they’ll talk,” you explained. “When people talk, it’s bound to reach him.”

Your hands fell away slowly, “He doesn’t forgive things like that.”

The air between you felt different now. He hadn’t stepped away, but the closeness suddenly felt like pressure. His expression shifted to something unreadable, “We’re already past the point of pretending like nothing happened.”

You sighed, knowing that he was completely right and there was nothing you could do about it. “We’re completely isolated here,” he added. “You said so yourself, no one even knows this place exists.”

His argument should’ve comforted you, yet, it made your heart race. Because if no one could see you, then there was nothing left to blame for the way your heart reacted whenever he looked at you. There were no obligations or audience, just your own choices to blame.

Your fingers curled into the expensive fabric of your dress as you searched desperately for another reason, another barrier to put between you. “What you’re implying is dangerous.”

A faint smirk tugged at his porcelain lips. “What I’m implying is that you’re spending more time worrying about tomorrow than living through tonight.”

You swallowed hard. The conviction in his voice was infuriating. Even worse, a part of you craved to believe him. His gaze softened as it lingered on your face, studying every bit of uncertainty.

“I’m not asking for anything except for this moment, your highness,” he whispered, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a quick peck.

His words settled heavily in your mind like a viral plague, corrupting your thoughts with his own. For the first time that evening, you had no argument to give.

“May I?” He whispered, voice intoxicating and full of desire. His eyes flickered between your irises and your lips, like he was unsure what he should be focused on.

You paused, unable to ignore the sudden temptation flowing through your veins. Your mind went to the tousled white hair and cerulean eyes of your husband, then to Geto’s jet black, silky locks and his sharp eyes that held you under the most understanding scrutiny. Guilt twisted in your chest at the thought that you were more attracted to the stranger standing in front of you than the stranger you were betrothed to.

His eyes never left you once, waiting for the answer you were bound to give. “Yes,” you replied softly.

Your response ignited something deep inside of him, his smooth hands reached for the sides of your face before gently pressing his lips to yours. A choked gasp left your throat, muffled by his smooth lips. Your knees almost went weak from the blistering feeling in your stomach.

His hand pulled you firm against him, pressing against the back of your waist. Your hands hovered by your side awkwardly before finding place in his delicate hair. The way he kissed you was impeccable, like he was exploring every inch of your lips in the most gentle ways. You were practically shaking in his arms as he held onto you like it was his last time living.

You pulled away with a gasp, completely out of breath. Your head snapped to the area behind you, searching for anyone that could’ve seen what just happened. The warmth of his hand interrupted you, pulling your focus back to his flushed face.

“There’s no one here, just us,” he cooed, brushing tousled pieces of hair behind your ear. You almost fainted at the sight of him—his hair disheveled, your lipstick spread across his lips, his eyes dark and thoroughly focused on you.

“W-We shouldn’t have done that,” you stammered, shaking your head. The rest of the palace must’ve realized your absence and came searching for you by now. You could hear the strain in your own voice, the words sounding weak even to your own ears.

Geto remained where he was, holding onto your waist as he watched you struggle with your own thoughts. “And yet,” he murmured, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You didn’t stop me.”

Your breath caught as the reminder appeared once again. A knot twisted in your stomach at the thought of your father searching the palace up and down for you. “They’ll be looking for me,” you said, slowly backing up. “My father-if anyone sees us.”

“If anyone sees us,” Geto interrupted quietly, “I’ll take the blame.”

The night air seemed impossibly still, time seemed to falter like the moonlight carved your bodies into stone. Then Geto exhaled and straightened, putting a fraction more distance between you. The gesture was small but deliberate.

“You should go back before they send half the kingdom searching for their missing princess,” he added, delicately sliding your mask back onto your face.

“Probably a wise idea,” you added, shaking your head humorously. The moment was already slipping through your fingers, and part of you didn’t want to let it go. You took off his coat and handed it to him with a soft smile. Giving him one last longing look, you picked up your dress and slowly made your way out of the willow tree’s grasp.

“Wait!” His voice called out before you could take another step. The vulnerability in his voice was enough to stop you. You froze, turning around to meet his piercing eyes.

Behind you, Geto stood motionless waiting for you. “Will you give me the pleasure of seeing you again, my princess?” He called after you, his voice softer than ever.

You hesitated, unsure of whether you should listen to your mind or your heart. Your mind urged you to leave—forget about the handsome and mysterious stranger and focus on your husband. Your heart was far less reasonable. It remembered the warmth of his touch, the gentleness hidden behind his bulging muscles, and the way he looked at you like you were more than a title or a crown.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile threatening to betray you. “Perhaps,” you said at last, glancing back over your shoulder. “If fate is feeling exceptionally generous.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “Then I’ll be praying for fate’s generosity.”

The smile that finally broke across your face came before you could stop it. With one look in his direction, you turned and disappeared into the moonlit pathways leading back to the palace, all too aware of the weight of his gaze lingering on your retreating figure.

As you finally reached the garden’s entrance, a quiet sense of relief flooded through your body. Yet, your thoughts still raced from the previous events. As you stepped between the stone archway, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“There you are.”

Satoru Gojo stood there with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the garden wall as though he hadn’t spent the last several minutes searching for you.

His relaxed posture lasted for all of two seconds. The moment his eyes landed on you, his expression shifted. His eyes swept over your appearance—the slightly crooked mask, the loose strands of hair that fell from your careful styling, the faint flush still lingering on your cheeks.

Then his eyes settled on your lips and your stomach dropped. One pale thumb brushed across your lower lip on instinct, wiping off a smudge of lipstick.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Princess,” he said slowly, all senses of amusement absent from his voice for the first time. “You look a little…disheveled.”

The accusation hung between you. You swallowed hard, “I tripped over a weed in the garden.”

The excuse sounded ridiculous the moment it came out of your mouth. Clearly, Gojo felt the same, one of his pale brows arched in disbelief. “A weed?”

“A particularly vicious one,” you added.

His stare lingered on you for a second too long. “Interesting,” his gaze drifted to the loose strands of hair framing your face. “I don’t remember weeds having the ability to tousle hairstyles.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, pulling back the unruly loose strands behind your ears. “I actually fell into a bush after I tripped.”

A laugh escaped him, though it lacked its usual carefree quality. “And the lipstick?” He verbalized, holding up the mauve smudge on his thumb.

Your heart lurched as a small gasp escaped you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shook your head, unable to come to any good excuse.

“Really?” He interrogated, pushing himself off of the stone wall and taking a few measured steps closer. You fought the urge to retreat, glaring at him with false confidence.

Gojo stopped in front of you, his striking cerulean eyes narrowing as they searched your face. Usually there was a playful light in them, but now they seemed too observant.

“That’s strange,” he mused. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve had a far more interesting evening than the rest of us.”

Your brows drew together. “You’re being dramatic.” Despite the calm facade you wore, your thoughts were scrambling.

“Am I?” His gaze flickered down to your lips once more before returning to your eyes. “Your hair is a mess, your lipstick is smudged, and you’re acting like you’re being questioned by the royal guard.”

Heat flooded your face. “How rude!” you huffed, glaring at him with everything you had. “Also, no I’m not?”

“(name),” he said, fighting back a smile. “You’ve been backing away from me for the last thirty seconds.” Your shoulders bumped lightly against the stone archway, the realization only making the embarrassment worse.

Gojo’s smile widened, something unreadable lingering beneath it. “Who was it?”

The question landed like a stone to your stomach. Your breath hitched in your throat as breathing seemed to become ten times harder than before.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Behind you, the garden gate stood open, moonlight spilling across the path. And somewhere beyond it, hidden among the shadows, was a man neither of you mentioned.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, hoping the false confusion seemed truthful.

Gojo let out a low hum, unconvinced. “You’re really going to make me spell it out?”

You tilted your head slightly, “I have no idea what you’re implying.”

“Sure you don’t,” he antagonized, his gaze fixed on your face before drifting toward the vast garden behind you. The darkness concealed the winding pathways and flowering hedges, revealing none of the secrets within. When his eyes returned to yours, a knowing smile tugged at his lips.

“Then I suppose it’s purely a coincidence that you disappeared halfway through the ball and returned looking like that,” he added.

Your stomach twisted, “looking like what?”

“Like you’ve been up to something.”

“That’s hardly evidence of anything.”

“No,” he admitted. “But your reaction is.”

You picked at the edges of your bodice, wishing for any source of salvation from your husband’s scrutiny. Gojo’s smile widened ever so slightly, like he noticed every crack in your composure.

“Relax, Princess. If you’re trying to convince me nothing happened, you’re putting far too much effort into it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, only to find yourself at a loss for words. The silence that followed was an answer enough.

Gojo chuckled softly and shook his head. “That’s what I thought.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the palace. “Come on. Before someone notices the guest of honor has gone missing.”

Yet as he fell into step beside you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t nearly as fooled as he pretended to be. The ease in his posture faded just slightly as the palace lights came into view.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asked suddenly.

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean it,” his voice softened a fraction. “If someone bothered you in there…” he didn’t finish his sentence but the air between you changed anyway.

The palace doors came into view like looming towers. Music spilled faintly through the walls. Laughter, glasses clinking, the distant hum of celebration seemed entirely like a different world.

“Try not to look like you committed treason,” he muttered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“I don’t,” you whispered back automatically.

The doors opened, warm light almost blinded you as voices rushed out to greet you. From the moment you stepped foot into the ballroom, the garden and everything that happened vanished behind gilded walls.

Somewhere behind the hedges, unseen in the dark, a presence remained. Watching, waiting, and smiling like none of this was over yet.

©satorussolace all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, translate, or modify my works.

taglist: to be determined

[aurievalley]

OUR SEESAW

starring ... SATORU GOJO?!

you're created thoughtfully by the olympians as a way to serve punishment to mankind under zeus's will. and satoru, the brother of who stole the fire from zeus, is the one who'll help them bring misfortune. who knows what might happen between an immortal and mortal? ( 3,5k )

main ingredients ... SFW ◞ epimetheus!satoru gojo, pandora!reader, NOT PROOFREAD, greek mythology au, retelling different ending, angst, hurt/no comfort, death, suggestive, doomed love, slight fluff, pov alternating ⁝ REPOST from carienations ◞ art © sachielvwo0. ( ✦ ) more works ◞ song to listen ◞ ao3.

notes in red ... i actually have sooo many greek mythology au ideas, but they're not my priorities right now, so we shall see if i'll ever get to them, lol. as always, i hope you guys enjoy this! reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3 (i'm actually not satisfied with the dialogue here, but whatever.)

satoru knows he shouldn't have received the gift from zeus.

he understands that better than his brother thinks, he really does. in the back of his head, whispers of cautiousness would crawl to the gaps in his mind. still, how was satoru gojo supposed to refuse the present when it's you?

you, who stands there draped in the finest chiton, while humming some alluring melody that's weave to the air with your hair fluttering around your face, dancing along the wind. and you, whose smiles could light up the whole earth, exchanging the fire that was lost from the humans. your very existence had him losing all senses he has.

well, he's the naive one in the two pairs of siblings. the moment you set your foot on this earth, satoru's aware he was already doomed for.

"satoru, may we stroll around later before we go to bed? i wish to see the night sky." your soft voice cut through satoru's trance, making him jolt from where he's standing. his face, once pale, turned into one of a deep rose when he heard your chuckle as you watched him gain his composure.

"uh, of course, dear … um, wife." the word slipped from his tongue before he's able to proceed. and when he realized what he just called you, satoru's face burned even more.

wife. that's right, you're his wife.

"are you alright, satoru …? your face is turning one similar to those apples," you uttered, tone laced with one of worries.

you take a few steps closer which make him instinctively back away, worried that the proximity might just unravel him more. that action of his got you halted abruptly, blinking in confusion and hurt. your brows now furrowing in a manner that got satoru's heart dropped. you look like he just shatters you.

he immediately saunters towards you, panicking. "no, no, no. i didn't intend on hurting you," he said, wishing for your understanding. satoru's hand, slightly trembling from panic, reaches to gently cradle your face. his touch felt distant, yet dear all at the same time. the way he's holding you makes it seem as if he's afraid you might crumble under his touch.

"you're alright, my husband," you whisper softly, staring into his eyes that are wavering. your fingers slowly find their way to his hands on your face. "i was worried i had offended you."

as if you could ever offend him.

he shakes his head at your words, eyes fluttering when your soft fingertips caress the back of his hand. "you could never do anything wrong."

you chuckle lowly at his words, sounding amused. the fear that was etched to your face now disintegrates into thin air, replacing it with a warm smile. and oh, satoru's heart skipped a beat at the sight. "i'm glad," you whisper.

the two of you stay in that position for a while, delicately embracing one another in each other's warmth. and for a while, everything falls into their rightful place.

for a while.

the sun was enveloping the earth in a loving hug that day, keeping it warm. a beautiful, sunny day, that's blessed by helios. it seems that the god of sun was particularly in a delightful mood.

birds chirping sounds surround you, complimenting your humming. as if it's answering one another, you feel the birds are singing alongside you.

it's been a while since your feet rooted on the ground of the earth, living your life as the first mortal woman, and the only one at that time. and it's been even longer since you were sculpted by the god and goddesses of olympus for one sole purpose— a gift from them to mankind.

satoru gojo, specifically.

you were given quite the blessings of the olympians.

aphrodite gives you unparalleled beauty, grace, and desire; her half-brother, hermes, gave you a cunning, deceitful mind; god of music, arts, and knowledge—apollo—gave you the ability to play the lyre and sing, something you often do as you stroll around the earth; athena clothed you, as well as taught you needlework and all kinds.

it wasn't just those four, there were more gods and goddesses that took part in carving you to the human you're now. those four are just the ones that blessings shine through you even from a distance.

oh, right. your father—zeus—had also given you a gift. two gifts, precisely; curiosity and a box that's sealed.

a box that you were told never to open whatever the case. the courage in you to open it dies the moment you find out it's sealed tightly, bestowed with zeus’s thoughtfulness, making you unable to peek inside it. thoughtless, is more a correct word for it, if you're allowed to be painfully true.

how are you supposed to live carefree, when your father gifted you curiosity and a box he made you swear you'll never open? it's a torture. especially when you've been given a deceitful mind by hermes, too. it's no wonder that a never-ending whisper of lying, breaking the promise to never open the box keeps stroking your mind.

the box itself is calling you.

sometimes when you let your guard down, you find the wind paves a way for you to the box. in a way, it felt like someone was pulling your hand towards it. no, maybe pushing you is the more correct term.

although, you keep wondering if it's truly sealed tight and secured or whether your father is just playing with you. and even though the courageous in you died, the one gift he allowed you to have was sparkling in a way that's blinding that day.

it's not a dim light, anymore.

not a single human knows at that time, but the presents zeus gave you will be able to devour the earth in darkness, albeit only for a while. for satoru, though? time stopped ticking for him, ever since.

because satoru’s ending is different from other souls' whose feet are planted on the ground; it's world shattering.

his world.

satoru's arms are wrapped around your waist from behind in a tight, yet gentle hug. his lips slowly trailing against the side of your neck, placing a soft, lingering kiss to the canvas that's you.

you giggles softly at the contact, feeling ticklish and warmth. the hand of yours is moving around, chopping some fruits from the garden that you picked out yesterday.

today, satoru will be visiting his brother who's being punished for stealing zeus’s fire. the action of satoru's brother was the reason why your father decided to send you here, as a misfortune for mankind.

not that anyone knows, yet.

it all started when satoru's brother tricked your father during a sacred offering. and zeus was extremely enraged at the audacity that satoru's brother had to trick him. so, in return he decided to punish humanity—the ones satoru's brother cares about—by withholding the fire.

zeus's action had the earth in shambles, as it's something essential for mankind to survive.

it's an understatement to say that everything turned into chaos. and satoru's brother, with all the courage that burns through his veins, he decided to respond zeus's action by stealing your father's fire from the home of olympian: mount olympus.

he walked there to the workshop of hephaestus, crept towards the anvil there to grab a spark from the divine hearth. satoru's brother stored it in a hollow stalk of fannel he had prepared before returning it to mankind, the mortals. it was safe to say zeus's wasn't going to let that betrayal go.

and there where you came, the one who they refer to as "all-gifted" to show humanity and satoru's brother divine authority.

satoru's brother was chained to a rock in the caucasus mountains, where his liver would be devoured by an eagle and grow overnight. the eagle would visit again the next day, repeating the same thing. a titan is immortal, after all.

today is one of the day's where satoru would visit his brother to have a conversation, as they're quite close. so, you decided to prepare your dear husband fruits for his journey.

"the weather is quite nice today. it seems helios is pleased," you spoke.

satoru return the words by pulling you even closer to him, letting out a soft sigh. "i suppose he is," he paused. "should we stroll around after my return?"

"mhm, that would be wonderful. i’ll be waiting for your return, then." you turned around, holding the cut up fruits that are neatly packed in a box now, and handed it to him.

your husband's embrace on you loosen as he takes a step back, gaze darting at you one last time before he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips with his hand moving to cup your face, delicately.

his lips move against yours in a slow, torturous kiss. the kiss is languid, as both of your lips dance in a savouring way. you can feel the way his hands are slightly trembling as the kiss went deeper each second passed. a low hummed left your lips before you pull away, breathing slightly ragged. "we can continue this later, satoru."

satoru wanted to protest, but he decided not to when he realizes that you two have all the time in the world. he sees you every day, too, while he only visits his brother some time. "alright. i will be missing you for the time when we're apart," he whispered, hand falling to his side.

you respond to his words with giggles, pushing him away from the kitchen. "i shall see you later, dearest husband."

dearest husband.

the words that left your lips got him shuddering. he suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to have you close, never letting you go.

"... alright," he replied.

even though he wants to stay, he knows he should go visit his brother. he'll spend more time with you again later when he returns. and tomorrow, too, maybe.

satoru cast a last glance at you before disappearing from your sight and the home that's the witness of the love shared between you two. and the only trace left of you, will be in that home.

it's calling you, again.

you're sweeping around the comfort of your home when you feel being pushed by the wind towards the room where the box is placed.

no, no, not again, you chant in your head.

these past few days have been hell on earth for you as curiosity keeps growing and showing its fangs at you. it's to the point where you feel that you're strangled by an invisible rope, unable to let yourself go. you've been dreaming about the box countless times in a matter of a week.

each day you find that it’s getting harder to ignore the way you're being pulled to the box no matter how hard you try to resist. sometimes, you even find yourself already standing in front of the room with your hand on the knob before letting go as if being electrocuted by your father's lighting bolt. and that scenario is what's happening this very second.

the only difference is that even though you felt that you were electrified, you still chose to open the door. revealing the box that's draped by a fabric, hiding it. you take a deep breath before walking inside, closing the door behind you with your feet as your eyes stuck on the box.

and you slowly make your way towards it, approaching the box with the curiosity that's shining blindingly in the room— luminaries it alight.

it whispers, again.

at this moment, you know nothing will be able to stop you from opening this box. let it be that you shatter your father's trust, the thoughtfulness that he placed upon this box will be broken by you today.

you slowly lower yourself to the ground, hands slowly raising to pull over the fabric that's draped against the box before revealing it in all its glory. this is the first time you see the box after quite a while and it really is a divine thing. anyone can tell how this is a befitting gift from the king of gods himself.

"... may i not regret the decision i take, father. forgive me for i have broken your trust," you mumble to yourself and to the wind, hoping it'll deliver your apology to your father.

every being on the earth is doomed the moment you open the box. your hand slipped from the box when it opened, a tremendous force is forcing themselves out of there. you fall to your back, watching in horror as evil that were trapped securely inside the box submerged outside and roamed around the room— some seeing themselves out.

ah, no, no, you repeat with fear as you scramble towards the box.

it was too late, though. every worst dream a human can think of has been freed from the box which was supposed to trap them there. your hand forcefully pushes the box to close, holding it down with every strength that's in you. your heart beats rapidly against your chest, wanting to let themselves free.

"i screwed up, i shouldn't have done that—"

a creek sound of a door opening echoes throughout the whole house, startling you as you look towards the door. brows furrowing in confusion. and in the deepest part of your heart, you feel a strong uneasiness.

who is it? satoru? you thought, with cautious and terror.

sounds of footsteps, heavy and ominous, had you clinging to the box tighter. it's becoming too close and clear to where the room you're at. the knob slowly rattles open, revealing a figure of a human you've never seen before. some man with a lean figure shows himself before you, holding a weapon.

a hunter can always smell the fear from its prey.

"you … you're going to pay for the misfortune your father has bestowed upon us!" he screams before running towards you. edge of his weapon eyes to eyes with you, sharp.

it was all you can remember before everything turns dark.

satoru's breathing heavy as he ran towards the comfort of his home.

the moment he sees evilness roaming around, he knows something isn't right. he can sense something has titled off balance. he can feel the way his guts rearrange themselves inside him when he's at the entrance to your home. the door is open— something that both you and him know not to do. never, to be precise.

within a minute, he's already inside the house, eyes darting around to catch if there's anything that's out of place or odd. and that's when the corner of his eyes catches one off the room door open wide.

the room to the box.

satoru's heart was beating fast as he slowly made his way to the room. for some reason, he felt this overwhelming feeling that his life has turned into the worst thing any being can imagine.

"... dearest?" he calls for you, voice trembling out of fear.

and when there's no answer, his feet move fast towards the room while his mind starts to replay images of you— starting from the very first moment you two meet.

you smile warmly at him, cheeks slightly flush as you stand behind your father's figure.

'this is my daughter, satoru. she shall serve you as your wife. a gift, from me to you,' zeus said with a wide grin.

satoru blink a few times, watching you with a confused expression and slightly bewildered at zeus's words. your father is offering you as a gift, to him? the brother of the one who's currently being punished on caucasus mountains?

'don’t accept any gifts, satoru.'

his brother's words where he warned him not to receive any gifts from anyone, especially zeus, had his mind going dizzy. satoru's reeling from the warning and how you're standing there extremely stunning and graceful.

'i shall accept your gift.' the words slipped from his mouth in a tone that's sure. not mirroring the horror of realization that's starting to creep on his face. though it only lasts for a moment before he catches the way your skin burns red

zeus's smile widens, his eyes gleaming in mischief that are overshadowed by the presence of his daughter— the only mortal woman created.

'she'll be in your care, then.'

he promised to himself that he'll protect you even if it's only by heart, where he's the only one who could listen to it. still, his promise was as pure as aether and as divine as ichor, the ethereal fluid that ran through his veins. satoru himself made sure that it's a prayer to hestia. 

satoru throws out every dignity he has as a titan for you, starting that day. for you, his dearest wife. a mortal.

and he failed.

the sight that greets him is atrocious. air is knocked from his lungs and he can feel the way time stops when he takes in the view of you laying on the ground. blood flows around you, from you. you're laid there with scarlet fluid wrapping you in a rigorous way.

he lurched to your side, his clothes slowly soaked by your blood that now surrounds him, too. with his arms that's in tremor, he weakly holds you, gaze flickering towards where the blood let themselves free.

if only he runs faster. this may not happen.

"... i shouldn't— have opened it," you whisper, voice cracking.

and satoru who's holding you dear in his arms, listening the way your voice slowly gets lower, can feel how the sound of yours woven into an invisible thread that's unbreakable, unchanging while it slowly wrapped around his neck. strangling him.

the thread of life, thread of fate.

everyone knows that not a single soul can destroy the thread, as it's a nature that is indestructible. a determined destiny, ending for both morals and immortals.

no voice came out of his mouth. satoru's throat is choked by the truth that's laid right before him, something that'll haunt him for the rest of his life. enveloping his world in a darkness that wont cast away. he swears that in this second, at this very moment, he can listen to the laughs of the moirai as they watched him drowning in misery.

another tear trickles down from your corner eyes, kissing your tears stained cheeks as your hand slowly reaches to brush the hair that obstructs the eyes you've fallen for the short time you're able to call yourself his wife.

oh, the sight of you almost breathless will crawl to him wherever he goes. it's clinging to the space in his ribs, slowly making its way to the crack in his soul that's getting wider each day past since you left.

"it slipped my mind … to say it this morning— and i, i apologize for it. but … good morning, my dearest …"

satoru might as well just ripped apart his body and gauge his heart out at the sound of your voice that's starting to die down. he would've run to the kitchen, searching for something that may take his life away, so he's allowed to spend another more minute with you. however, he can't. there's no scenario where that might happen.

the man is a titan, immortal.

"i— love you," he mumbled. it slips from between his lips like an offering, wishing for the moirai to take pity and change the thread that's lace for him. even though he understands it's a nature that's unchangeable.

you offer him a small smile, warming the coldness that has engulfed the whole room when your body drops to the floor when the mortal stabs you in your lower abdomen, six times. the hand of yours now finds ways to stroke his cheek, as you gather the last strength that's left in you to mutter one last thing.

"… our time was short— but, i really … love our life," a long pause came as you struggled to breathe even a second longer. "— i would, i would never have … the chance to say this again. good night, satoru … you were delightful."

with that, your thread of destiny has been completed. your sole purpose as the first and only mortal woman to be created has found its ending.

you, who's able to let your soul roam free because he came in time. the hope that let themselves free from the box, after you crawl yourself to open it again, answers your prayer. this time, the calling of the box was something you're grateful for. something you wouldn't trade for anything. 

while satoru, the titan, the immortal, will continue his life wandering around in circles. losing the purpose of his life after he watched the love of his life, the one thing he has poured his heart to, closes her eyes.

after all, everything that happened is orchestrated by the olympians. and satoru should've known better.

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[tigergrrrrl]

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ฅ≽(•⩊ •マ≼

you actually wouldn’t be able to guess my favorite from this

f2u