𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦 .⋆♱ ⤿ summer breaks at your aunt's house in the countryside are always your favourite part of the year. though this year, there's a rather sweet surprise awaiting you. 𝗸𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗯𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗼, the grumpy (and unfairly hot) southern boy who comes to help out your aunt with garden work. and you've got one new mission for this summer: get him to fuck you, no matter what it takes.
𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 .⋆♱ ⤿ southern!katsuki ⨾ countryside!au ⨾ tanning in a bikini ⨾ semi-public sex ⨾ p in v sex ⨾ unprotected sex ⨾ backshots ⨾ hair pulling ⨾ degrading kink ⨾ a bit of spanking ⨾ massages kinda ⨾ kats likes your ass ⨾ rubbing through panties ⨾ southern dialect & 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 // 𝘄𝗰: 3.4k ⤷18+ 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 , minors get out!
𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 .⋆♱ ⤿ oh boy, there go my pants. THIS IS A 2000 FOLLOWER SPECIAL BTW! thank you all soooo much, i really appreciate it. i couldn't have done it alone. i will be publising tons of fics in the next weeks, so stay tuned!😚 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧!
the summer heat hung thick over the countryside, wrapping around everything like a heavy blanket. cicadas buzzed a lazy rhythm, the scent of honeysuckle and freshly cut grass drifting through the air.
your aunt's old farmhouse sat nestled in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by wildflowers and rows of tomatoes that your aunt tended to with religious fervor.
every summer you came here, escaping the city for the wide open skies and the slow, syrupy pace of rural life. it was always a charm—the sweet people, the sweet tea, the sweet, sweet fruits you could pluck right off the vine.
but this summer, there was a whole different kind of sweetness waiting for you.
katsuki bakugo.
the first time you saw him, you’d nearly tripped over your own feet.
he was standing in your aunt’s garden, in a white tank top that was completely soaked through, clinging to every ridge and dip of his torso like a second skin.
the water hose was in his hand, spraying a fine mist over the tomato plants, and the droplets caught the sunlight like diamonds against his tan skin.
his arms were scarred, corded with muscle, and his face—sharp, angular, with a permanent scowl etched into his features—was the kind of beautiful that made your stomach do a slow, dangerous flip.
you’d walked outside that first day in a short skirt and a tight tank top, lips glossed, hair falling perfectly over your shoulders, a wicked grin already curling your mouth.
you’d leaned against the porch post and said something sweet, something flirty, something that usually worked on every boy you’d ever met.
he’d looked at you like you were a bug he wanted to squash.
“fuck off,” he’d said, voice low and rough with that thick southern drawl that made even his insults sound like honey. and then he’d turned back to his plants like you didn’t exist.
you should’ve been discouraged.
you should’ve rolled your eyes and moved on.
but instead, something sparked in your chest. a challenge. a game. and you were never one to back down from a game.
so you made it your mission.
every day, you found new ways to get his attention. you’d walk into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel, water still dripping from your skin, while he stood there drinking a glass of water, sweat beading on his forearms from working outside.
he’d barely glance at you, grunt, and walk right past like you were invisible.
you’d leave your bedroom window wide open while you changed, making sure the curtains were just sheer enough to silhouette your body.
not even a flicker of interest from him.
you’d bend over in front of him to pick up something you’d “accidentally” dropped, wear the shortest shorts you owned, brush against him when you passed in the hallway. nothing. he was a fortress, and you were determined to break down every single wall.
and today, you had a new plan.
your aunt had gone to town for groceries, leaving you alone in the house with him. the perfect opportunity.
you’d slipped into the tiniest bikini you owned—a scrap of pale pink fabric that barely covered your breasts and a matching triangle bottom that rode high on your hips.
you’d spent a good twenty minutes making sure everything looked just right, then you’d grabbed a towel, a bottle of sunscreen, and a book you had no intention of reading, and you’d made your way out to the garden.
he was already there, of course. bent over a row of daisies, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a thin gray t-shirt that was already starting to darken with sweat across his back. you could see the muscles shifting under the fabric as he worked, could see the way his shoulder blades moved like wings.
your mouth went dry.
you laid your towel out on one of the sun chairs, positioned perfectly so that the sunlight would hit you just right, and you stretched out on your stomach, arching your back just a little more than necessary. you let your head rest on your folded arms, closed your eyes, and pretended to relax.
for a long while, nothing happened.
you could hear the snip of his shears, the rustle of leaves, the occasional grunt as he yanked a weed from the earth. he didn’t look at you. not once.
you kept peeking through half-lidded eyes, watching him move, watching the way his jeans sat low on his hips, the dark line of hair trailing from his navel disappearing beneath the waistband. and every time, he ignored you.
it was maddening.
finally, after what felt like an eternity, he straightened up, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and turned to look at you. his crimson eyes were narrowed, his jaw tight.
“the hell you doin’ out here?” he asked, voice flat.
you stretched, letting your back arch just a little more, letting the curve of your ass shift under the tiny scrap of fabric. “tanning,” you said, all innocence. “is that a problem?”
“tannin',” he repeated, like the word was stupid. “in my garden.”
“your garden?” you lifted your head, propping your chin on your hands. “last i checked, this was my aunt’s garden. you just work here.”
a muscle in his jaw twitched. “i’m the one who takes care of it. means i get a say in who sprawls around half-naked innit.”
“half-naked?” you looked down at yourself, then back up at him with a sweet smile. “this is a bikini. it’s for swimming. and tanning. perfectly normal.”
“you ain’t swimmin’.”
“no, i’m tanning. didn’t you hear me?”
he stared at you for a long, hard moment, his eyes tracing over your body in a way that was almost clinical, like he was assessing a piece of furniture. then he scoffed, shook his head, and turned back to his work. “whatever. just don’t get in my way.”
you bit your lip, fighting a grin. he was talking to you. that was progress. even if he was being a dick about it, he was engaging. and you could work with that.
you let the silence stretch, listening to the sounds of him working. you shifted on the towel, making sure your movements were slow and deliberate, making sure the light caught the curve of your hip, the dip of your spine. you let out a little sigh, just loud enough for him to hear.
he ignored you.
you flipped onto your back, letting the sun hit your stomach, your chest. you arched your back, stretching your arms above your head, your breasts pressing against the thin fabric of your bikini top. you let out another sigh, this one a little louder, a little more breathy.
the snip of his shears paused. you didn’t look, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and hot. then it was gone, and the snipping resumed.
you smiled to yourself.
“hey,” you called out, your voice sweet and syrupy. “could you do me a favor?”
“no.”
“you don’t even know what it is yet.”
“don’t care.”
you sat up, letting the towel fall away from your chest. you ran your fingers through your hair, pushing it back from your face, and gave him your most innocent, pleading look. “i can’t reach the sunscreen on my back. and i really don’t want to burn. could you…put some on for me?”
he stopped. turned. looked at you like you’d just asked him to set the garden on fire.
“you didn’t think of that beforehand?” he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.
“i thought i’d be able to reach,” you said, pouting your lips. “but i can’t. please, katsuki? i’ll be out of your hair faster. i promise.”
he stared at you for a long, agonizing moment. you could see the war in his eyes—the part of him that wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself, and the part of him that was too damn stubborn to let you win by whining. finally, with a heavy, put-upon sigh, he set down his shears and stalked over to you.
“turn around,” he said, his voice flat.
you bit back a triumphant grin and turned, presenting your back to him. you heard him pick up the bottle of sunscreen, heard the squirt of it hitting his palm. then his hands were on you, and every thought in your head evaporated.
his hands were rough, calloused, warm. he started at your shoulders, spreading the lotion in firm, efficient strokes. his thumbs dug into the muscles on either side of your spine, and you couldn’t help the little moan that escaped your lips.
“shut up,” he said, but his voice was a little rougher than before.
you bit your lip, staying quiet as his hands moved lower. down your shoulder blades, down the curve of your waist. his fingers brushed the edge of your bikini bottom, and you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through you. he didn’t linger. he moved on, smoothing the lotion over your lower back, his thumbs tracing the dimples just above your ass.
“you’re real quiet all of a sudden,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. “that ain’t like you.”
“just enjoying the view,” you said, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.
“view? you ain’t even lookin’.”
“i’m enjoying the view of the garden. through the reflection in your eyes.”
he snorted. “that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard.”
“you love it.”
“i hate it.”
but his hands didn’t stop. they moved lower, smoothing the sunscreen over the tops of your thighs, his fingers pressing just a little harder than necessary.
you felt your breath catch, felt your skin prickle with goosebumps despite the heat. his hands were wandering, and you could feel the heat radiating off him as he leaned over you.
“y'know,” he said, his voice dropping to something low and dangerous, “you’ve been pesterin’ me all summer. walkin’ around in towels, leavin’ your window open, bendin’ over in front of me like a damn cat in heat.”
“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice innocent.
“liar.” his hands slid lower, his thumbs brushing the curve of your ass. you felt your breath hitch, felt your thighs press together. “you think i ain’t noticed? you think i’m fuckin' blind?”
“you never said anything.”
“what was i supposed to say? ‘hey, thanks for the free show, but i’m tryin’ to work’?” his hands were moving now, slow and deliberate, massaging the sunscreen into the skin just above the waistband of your bikini. “you’re a pest, y'know that?”
“you keep talking, but your hands haven’t stopped.”
“shut up.”
he was rubbing circles into your lower back now, his fingers slipping lower with every pass. you could feel the heat pooling between your legs, could feel the way your bikini bottom was already starting to get damp.
this was working. this was exactly what you wanted.
“you’re a real piece of work,” he muttered, his voice thick with something that might have been anger, might have been want. “think you can just prance around in your little outfits and get whatever you want.”
“is it working?”
his hands stopped. for a moment, the only sound was the cicadas and the pounding of your heart. then he moved, and suddenly his hands were on your hips, gripping hard, and he was pulling you up, turning you over so you were on your back, looking up at him.
his face was flushed, his crimson eyes burning with a fire that made your breath catch. his jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. he looked furious.
he looked hungry.
“you didn’t think i’d notice?” he said, his voice low and rough. “you didn’t think i’d see what you were doin’?”
“i knew you’d notice,” you said, your voice soft, your heart pounding. “i was counting on it.”
he stared at you for a long moment, his hands still gripping your hips. then he let out a harsh breath, almost a laugh, and shook his head.
“you’re stupid,” he said. “y'know that?”
“i’ve been told.”
his hands moved, sliding up your sides, over your ribs. his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, and you arched into his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips. his eyes darkened.
“you’re gonna regret this,” he said, but there was no heat in his voice. just a low, rough promise.
“i doubt it.”
he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “you’re gonna be beggin’ me to stop by the time i’m done with you.”
you shivered, a thrill running through you. “try me.”
for a long moment, he just looked at you. then, slowly, his hands slid down your body, over your stomach, over your hips, until they were resting on the curve of your ass. he squeezed, hard, and you gasped, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders.
“you’ve been askin’ for this,” he said, his voice a low growl. “all fuckin' summer. you’ve been beggin’ for it.”
“maybe,” you said, your voice breathless. “maybe i have. what are you gonna do about it, hm?”
his hands moved lower, slipping under the waistband of your bikini bottom. his fingers found the soaked fabric, and he let out a low, dark laugh.
“fuckin’ hell,” he said. “you’re already wet.”
“shut up,” you said, echoing his earlier words.
his grin was sharp, predatory. “make me.”
and then his fingers were moving, pushing the damp fabric aside, and he was sliding two fingers through your slick folds, slow and deliberate.
you gasped, your back arching, your hands tightening on his shoulders. he watched your face, his eyes hungry, as he circled your clit with his thumb.
“that feel good?” he asked, his voice mockingly sweet.
“y-yes,” you breathed.
“good.” he pressed his fingers deeper, finding your entrance, and then he pushed inside you with a wet, obscene squelch. you cried out, your head falling back, your hips bucking against his hand.
he fucked you with his fingers, slow and deep, his thumb still working your clit. his other hand was gripping your hip, holding you in place, his fingers digging into your skin. you were moaning, whimpering, your body arching into his touch.
“look at you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “so damn needy. so damn desperate.”
“katsuki,” you moaned, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.
“what?” he said, his voice sharp. “what do you want?”
“more,” you begged. “please.”
he smirked, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your vision go white. “more? you want more?”
“yes, yes, please—“
he pulled his fingers out, and you whined at the loss. but before you could protest, he was grabbing your hips, flipping you over onto your stomach. his hands were on your ass, squeezing, spreading, and you could feel the heat of his body behind you.
“you want my cock?” he asked, his voice rough. “you want me to fuck you?”
“yes,” you said, your voice muffled against the towel. “god, yes.”
“then beg.”
you turned your head, looking back at him over your shoulder. his eyes were blazing, his face flushed, his lips parted. he looked like a man on the edge, and you wanted to push him over.
“please, katsuki,” you said, your voice sweet and breathy. “please fuck me. i need your cock. i need it so bad.”
a low growl rumbled in his chest. “that’s more like it.”
he pulled your bikini bottom down, letting it fall to your knees. then you felt his hands on your hips, his thumbs spreading your cheeks, and the blunt head of his cock pressing against your slick entrance. he pushed, just a little, just enough to make you gasp.
“y'sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.
“yes,” you said, your voice desperate. “fuck, yes, just—“
he pushed inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you both groaned. he was thick, filling you completely, stretching you in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head. he paused, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises.
“fuck,” he breathed. “fuck, you’re tight.”
“move,” you whined. “please, move.”
and he did. he pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in, setting a brutal, punishing pace. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mixing with your moans and his grunts. his hand came down on your ass, hard, and you cried out, your fingers digging into the towel.
“y'like that?” he growled. “y'like gettin’ fucked like a little slut in the garden, huh?”
“yes,” you moaned. “yes, yes, yes—“
he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, and you gasped at the sharp pain. his other hand was on your hip, holding you in place as he fucked you, his thrusts deep and relentless.
“you’ve been such a fuckin’ pest,” he said, his voice harsh and breathless. “walkin’ around in your little towels, flashin’ your tits at me, thinkin’ you could get away with it.”
“i did get away with it,” you managed, your voice choked with pleasure.
his hand tightened in your hair, pulling harder. “you got a smart mouth. ever thought about that being fuckin' annoyin'?”
“you love it.”
“i hate it.” he thrust deeper, harder, and you cried out. “but i’m gonna fuck it out of you.”
his pace increased, relentless, unforgiving. the world narrowed to the feeling of him inside you, the sound of his breath, the heat of his body against yours. you could feel the pressure building, coiling low in your belly, and you knew you were close.
“katsuki,” you moaned, your voice breaking. “i’m gonna—i’m gonna—“
“not yet,” he said, his voice a low growl. “you don’t fuckin' cum until i say so. torturin' me all summer..”
he slowed his pace, pulling out until only the tip of him was inside you, then pushing back in slow and deep. it was torture, the most exquisite kind of torture. you whimpered, your hips bucking back against him, trying to get more.
“please,” you begged. “please, katsuki, i need—“
“what do you need?” he asked, his voice mocking. “tell me.”
“i need to cum,” you said, your voice desperate. “please, let me cume.”
“beg harder.”
“please,” you said, your voice breaking. “please, please, please—“
he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re such a fuckin’ slut,” he whispered.
“yes,” you said, your voice a sob. “yours. your slut.”
something in him seemed to break. he pulled back, grabbed your hips, and started fucking you again, hard and fast, his rhythm wild and desperate. his hand found your clit, rubbing in tight circles, and you felt the pressure build, felt the wave rising.
“come on,” he said, his voice rough. “you can cum.”
and you did. you shattered, your body convulsing, your cries filling the air as the orgasm ripped through you. you were barely aware of him pulling out, barely aware of the hot, wet spurts of his cum painting your back, his grunt of satisfaction.
you lay there, panting, your body trembling, your mind a haze of pleasure. you felt him collapse beside you, his breath coming in harsh gasps. for a long moment, neither of you spoke.
then he sat up, and you heard him fumbling for something. you turned your head, watching as he picked up your phone from where it had fallen on the towel. his fingers moved across the screen, typing something.
“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice hoarse.
he didn’t answer. he finished, tossed the phone onto the towel beside you, and stood up. he pulled up his jeans, buttoned them, and looked down at you with a complicated expression that was part annoyance, part satisfaction.
“you got what you wanted,” he said, his voice flat. “now stop botherin’ me.”
and he walked away, leaving you there, cum drying on your back, your phone buzzing with a new contact name.
you picked it up, looked at the screen.
a single name: “katsuki.”
you smiled, wide and wicked, and lay back down in the sun.
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 9.8k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, horror, torture, abuse, trauma and ptsd, discussion of sexual assault, pregnancy, delusion
a/n: this chapter marks the start of the final act where things begin to unravel hehe
Your mother’s tone was strained as she peered across the table at your boyfriend. It was clear that she was at least trying her best to be polite, while your father could barely bring himself to look at the man.
It had been several weeks since the incident at Satoru’s cabin, and in that time the nature of your relationship with Sukuna had changed, and subsequently so had your relationship with your parents.
When you’d first arrived back in town after escaping Mahito’s clutches, you’d gone straight to your parents to tell them what had happened and to ask for them to contact the Higurumas to help you through the legal process. If you’d been more mentally stable at the time perhaps you would’ve gone to them alone, playing along with your father’s request to not bring Sukuna to the house.
But you’d been in no fit state to do anything alone, so Sukuna had tagged along that evening to support you, revealing himself to your mother for the first time as your boyfriend.
To say that first meeting had been rocky was something of an understatement.
Her judgement of the man was evident and only further heightened by your father’s obvious disapproval. If you hadn’t been in such a state of distress you were certain that both of them would’ve outright voiced how disappointed they were in you. Perhaps they would’ve even asked Sukuna to leave.
But neither of them spoke out actively against him that day - not when he was the only thing you seemed to be clinging to, desperate not to be parted from him for a second.
They could understand that he was your saviour - that you needed him, and even begrudgingly accepted it when you all but moved into his apartment in the weeks that followed, spending every night with him in the one place you felt safe and comfortable. It wasn’t like they were happy about it - you knew that, but they weren’t about to stand in the way of their traumatised daughter and her wants.
Sukuna was the one thing keeping you going, and your parents knew that.
Even if he was far from ideal in their minds.
Your mother, no matter her opinion on a person, had always been the type to try to keep things civil and polite, which was how you and Sukuna had ended up invited for dinner at your childhood home, in which your mother was trying her best to extend an olive branch and keep an open mind about your boyfriend.
It had already been an awkward affair, and you were desperate to leave, but Sukuna seemed unfettered, smiling politely at your mother’s largely condescending questions.
“No, I didn’t go to college. My family wasn't very well off and even with scholarships it would’ve been hard for me. I might go back to school in a few years once I have some savings, but it was always a better option for me to earn.” His arm came to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him in an act that no doubt had your father seething. “I’m set on finding a good career though. I want to be able to provide.”
Your mother gave him a polite smile before diverting her attention back down to her plate, while your father rolled his eyes. It was clear that neither of them particularly liked the idea of him thinking long term about your relationship. In the few times she’d caught you alone since finding out about Sukuna, your mother had not so subtly reminded you that Hiromi was still single and willing to date, pairing it with the suggestion that a change of scenery might be good for you.
So far you’d politely turned her down, but the whole thing was starting to grate on your nerves. Sukuna was who you’d chosen - he’d protected you through the worst of times and was continuing to care for you now, even when you were depressed and traumatised. There wasn’t anyone else you wanted - it was only him.
It had always been him and always would be.
“Do you think you’ll be coming back to work soon, sweetheart?” Your dad asked, shifting his attention to you.
Since the incident you’d found it difficult to even get out of bed most days, your mind laden with thoughts of Mahito and what might’ve happened if Sukuna hadn’t arrived. And when you weren’t thinking about that, you were picturing Shoko’s lifeless body laid out on the floor. The idea of holding it together for a whole day of work seemed impossible.
Your father had been understanding enough to allow Sukuna to take a couple of weeks off after everything first went down, aware that he didn’t want you left alone in such a distraught state, but Sukuna had been back on site for weeks now, while you still moped around at home. Your phone and Sukuna’s gun were never far from your grip whenever you were alone, constantly on edge that you’d hear the rattling of a window or the slow unlatching of the door, leading you to another terrible fate.
“I- I don’t know.”
You’d been waiting to return back to your normal self, to bounce back to the way you were before. But you felt like a vital part of you had been stolen, never to be returned. It was so similar to how you’d felt after Ryu’s death, and yet so different too. With Ryu, it had been like getting carried away by a stream, constantly trying to get your head above rushing water to take a breath.
This felt more still - like you were drifting steadily to the bottom of a calm lake without the capability to kick back up to the surface. There was a numbness to the pain that settled within you through each passing day, like pieces of your heart were slowly being peeled away and cast aside. The piece that Sukuna held in his hands felt like the only one that was safe, protected by the one person who brought you comfort.
“It's fine for me to look after her.” Sukuna cut in before your dad could respond. “She doesn’t need to work.”
The man pressed his lips into a thin line, collecting himself before making any rash response to Sukuna’s words. He’d hardly eaten any of his meal, clearly discomforted by the whole situation of having a dinner party with someone he didn’t approve of, someone who he knew had laid hands all over his daughter.
“She should work. She’s more qualified than you are, it would be silly to let years of education go to waste.”
“I don’t doubt her skill.” Sukuna bit back, “I simply care for her wellbeing. When she feels better she can decide what she wants to do, I’ll support her whether it brings us millions of dollars or makes us nothing.”
“That’s admirable, don’t you think, honey?” Your mother tried her best to disarm the tension, casting a glance at your father who seemed utterly unconvinced.
You kept quiet, uninterested in pushing your way into the conversation. Dinner hadn’t seemed like the best idea, even if you could see your mother’s intent. Your father would never accept Sukuna no matter how good a person he was to you - his low social standing already sealed that deal, making this whole meeting a waste of everyone’s time.
It was better if you simply kept the two halves of your life apart. There was no point in causing strife or trying to convince your dad of anything when he was already deadset in his beliefs. He wanted you to marry someone wealthy like Hiromi, someone who could take care of you financially without working on a construction site.
Someone with soft, uncalloused hands.
Someone who would never think to cover themselves in tattoos.
Sukuna would never be that, so he’d never be accepted. If anything, his heroic act of saving you from Mahito had only further concreted him as someone unpleasant in your father’s eyes - the type of man who was strong and scrappy enough to kill another.
That his actions were in defence of you didn’t seem to matter.
And for that reason you were done trying to argue.
You’d only agreed to the dinner invitation because Sukuna had urged you to, emphasising the importance in him building a relationship with your family if you were going to be together. But ultimately, he was on his own on that front, because you could see no way in which dinner would end with anything but more animosity between both parties.
So you’d let them talk things out, excusing yourself to the bathroom to free yourself of conversation you had no interest in hearing.
Well, that and because you’d been beset with the sudden urge to vomit.
For the last few days your stomach had been odd. You’d been waking up each morning feeling nauseous, leaving you sprinting to the toilet and throwing up until your stomach was emptied of its bile. Throughout the day the dizziness would decrease, but you found yourself disinterested in most foods, that wave of sickness passing through you at the hint of various scents.
At first you’d convinced yourself it was a bug, but as you’d excused yourself from the table, suddenly nauseous after lifting a piece of broccoli to your mouth, you began to wonder if that was all it was.
You’d stood there, in your parents downstairs toilet, peering at yourself in the mirror. The sound of Sukuna making strained conversation echoed through the wooden door and you paid it little mind, letting words drift into mere noise while you studied your reflection. It was hard to recognise the person staring back at you, with your sunken eyes and chapped lips serving as a constant reminder of the difficult few weeks you’d had.
But those weren’t the changes you were focussed on.
Prodding at your cheeks, you became certain that you were putting on weight, your face a little rounder than you were used to it being. In addition, acne had begun to spring up across your forehead and chin, symptoms that were usually only present when you were on your period.
Now that you were considering it, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on your period.
It hadn’t been cause for concern, because the contraceptive pill had occasionally caused inconsistency with your cycle, meaning a missed period or spotting wasn’t unusual. That paired with how much stress you’d been under, it came as no surprise that you hadn’t been bleeding as usual.
That combined with the nausea though? And the subtle changes to your face? That was a concern.
You hadn’t realised how long you’d been in there pondering the facts until there was a quiet knock on the door.
“Is everything okay honey?” Your mother called out.
“Yeah, all good.”
“Can I come in?”
Swallowing, you dried tears that had appeared on your face, not quite sure when you’d started crying. You pulled open the door and let her step in. If she noticed the redness of your cheeks she said nothing, simply pulling the door shut behind her to get some privacy.
“You’ve been in here a while,” she commented. You turned back to the mirror, watching her through the reflection as she sat down on the edge of the bath, eyes meeting yours. “Are you sure you’re okay? We’re not upsetting you are we? I know dad can be difficult.”
Shrugging, you shook your head. “It's what I expected. It's fine.” It wasn’t fine, you loved Sukuna and you wanted others to see what you could see - you hated that a dinner with your parents felt like torture all because you dad didn’t approve, but asking him to change his ways would be like asking the sun to stop shining, so there was no point in lamenting.
“It's not fine. I’ll speak to him. I know we were both shocked when you brought Sukuna here, but if he makes you happy I’ll do nothing to chase him away.”
“You don’t like him though, do you?” You asked, staring at her bitterly through the mirror. Your hand had subconsciously moved up to your stomach, and a fresh wave of nausea forced its way through you, leaving you swaying on your feet.
“I…” She hesitated. “I was surprised, but I don’t know him well enough to dislike him.” It was a diplomatic answer, and you did all you could to avoid rolling your eyes. “But what I think doesn’t matter. Do you like him, sweetheart? Do you think he’s good for you?”
“Yes.”
That was the easiest answer you’d ever given.
“Then that’s all that matters to me, and it's all that should matter to you dad,” she said. “I just don’t want you to drift away from us because of this. It would break my heart for you to go off and have children with him only for us to never see them because we can’t play nice. If that boy treats you well, then your dad will just have to accept it.”
You nodded, only half listening. What she was saying was nice, you appreciated the sentiment, finding it pleasant to have someone on your side for once. However, you were too focused on the shifting feeling in your stomach to be truly grateful for what she was saying. You just wanted to be left alone, uninterested in having a conversation about your current state with your mother.
A basic acceptance of Sukuna being in your life was probably already a big enough adjustment for her.
Adding a potential pregnancy into the mix could ruin everything.
Especially when you had no idea how you were meant to feel about it.
“Anyway,” she continued at your silence. “I’ll leave you be - I don’t want to abandon Sukuna to your father for too long. Don’t hide away all night, I think it's better if your dad sees the two of you together looking all happy - it’ll soften him up.”
You offered her a smile as she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder before heading back to the dinner table, the quiet sound of conversation continuing while you remained still, hands grasping the edge of the basin, wondering if the small portion of food you’d eaten was going to rise up from your stomach.
There was no point in panicking until you were certain of what you suspected, and for now you almost wanted to bury your head in the sand. Even though you loved Sukuna, this didn’t feel like the right time for this - you were still picking through so much trauma and you couldn’t imagine doing that with a baby at your hip.
Besides, you weren’t particularly certain how Sukuna would take the news.
He’d always been open about wanting children with you one day, but you assumed that was a statement for the future, once the two of you were in a better position. There was no space in Sukuna’s apartment to raise a child - you’d have to drastically change both of your lives if you were going to make space for an extra addition.
Panic swelled within you, and you braced yourself harder against the sink, your head spinning.
It wasn’t something you had the time or space to consider. You had too much on your mind to really think about it. For all you knew, you could be getting ahead of yourself - what if you were just ill? What if everything was a coincidence? Worrying before taking a pregnancy test was foolish.
You’d wait until Sukuna was at work and buy one at the drug store, and until then you’d give it no further thought.
—
On the way to the drug store the following day, you ran into Yuki. It was a chance meeting - she was stepping out of the coffee shop next door, brown eyes widening as they met yours. Conversation between the two of you had been limited, mainly on your part. You could find little energy to spend time with anyone who wasn’t Sukuna, and seeing Yuki had unpleasant memories rushing through your mind.
That same feeling seemed to present itself in her, as she winced at the sight of you, quickly attempting to replace the expression with an uneasy smile.
She looked similar to you - her eyes were sunken and exhausted, and she’d lost some weight since you’d last seen her. She was usually a muscular girl, the epitome of health, and to see her looking so skinny made your heart sink.
“Hey. Long time no see,” she said. Her tone was lacking any enthusiasm, but you knew not to take it personally. If her last few weeks had been anything like yours, she simply didn’t have the energy to spare.
“Hey,” you responded bashfully. “Sorry I’ve been bad at replying to your texts…”
“Don’t sweat it. I get it.” She chewed on her lower lip, swaying awkwardly on her feet. “Do you wanna come to my place? I could really do with talking to you.” The reluctance in your eyes must’ve been evident, because she was quick to continue speaking. “Nothing sinister. I just miss you.”
Glancing at the drug store, you nodded. “Sure, I just need to grab something first if that’s okay?”
“Yeah of course.”
Much to your dismay, she followed you as you stepped into the store. You’d assumed she’d wait for you outside, but you should’ve known that luck never tended to favour you in such a manner. Agonising in your head, you wondered if you should buy something other than a pregnancy test to avoid any questions from Yuki, but in the end you decided that would be embarrassingly cowardly.
Both of you were adults. If you needed a pregnancy test, you needed a pregnancy test. There was no scandal to be had.
You picked one up from the shelves casually, casting a sideways glance at your friend as you did so. Something akin to disappointment flickered in her eyes for a moment, but she managed to conceal it well. She offered no words of judgement, trailing behind you as you went to pay, and failing to mention it on the short walk back to her place.
It had been a long time since you were last at her house, but it felt comforting to be there all the same. Yuki had always had a great eye for decor, and her living room was filled with tasteful colours and low lighting which gave it a lovely cozy feeling. It was sweet to see Choso’s things scattered with Yuki’s across the room, making it clear that the space belonged to the both of them.
Soon, you’d have to speak to Sukuna about moving into his place properly - or perhaps having the two of you move into a new place entirely. It would be nice to have something that belonged to the two of you, rather than feeling like you were intruding on a space that belonged only to him. You wanted more than a single drawer in his home.
“Can I get you anything? Water? Green tea?” She asked, as you settled down on one of the sofas, sinking back against the pillow.
“I’m okay.” You still weren’t over your wave of sickness that morning, and didn’t want to consume anything that would make it worse. Yuki nodded, and sat down across from you, an awkwardness settling over the room as the two of you sat there in silence.
After weeks apart, you weren’t clear on what to say to Yuki. You didn’t know if you should discuss what had happened at Satoru’s lakehouse, or if you should ask about the trauma that followed. Both matters were touchy subjects of discussion. But equally, it felt hard to discuss anything else. Sukuna was off the table, and so was Shoko. It felt like you’d have to dance around so many topics that it was easier not to speak at all.
While considering your next words, you found yourself remembering that you’d been invited to Yuki’s house, leaving the burden of conversation on her shoulders not yours. That had you relaxing a little, watching your friend struggle with the same conflict in her own mind.
She took a long sip of coffee before speaking, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. “I’m sorry, for what I did back at Satoru’s place. I shouldn’t have- sorry.”
You tilted your head, struggling to compute what she was saying. In your mind she had nothing to apologise for - you’d all been in a terrifying situation brought on by a couple of psychopaths. Unless she’d outright invited them into the house, there was no apology needed.
But the deep guilt in her eyes was stark, like it had been eating away at her for a long time.
“I know you’re mad at me. I think you hate me, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been avoiding me. I get it, I picked you to be hurt by Mahito, I probably deserve to be hated.”
Your memory of that evening was largely spotty, and you’d blocked out much of what had happened to you. At Yuki’s words, the memory of Mahito forcing her to inflict injury onto you or Shoko came rushing back to you. It wasn’t something you’d held against her - she didn’t truly have a choice in the matter. If she hadn’t chosen a name Mahito would’ve killed you all.
What else was she meant to do but pick you? Especially with Shoko in the state she’d been in.
“I’m not mad at you, Yuki. You didn’t do anything wrong,” you said softly. “I haven’t been avoiding you either, I just haven’t had energy for anyone but Sukuna. I can barely drag myself from bed in the morning.”
“Right,” she mumbled, clutching her coffee cup a little harder. “But I deserve hatred. I watched him cut you up and did nothing. Shoko was more of a saviour to you than I was - all I could do was cry and watch it happen.”
“And you’re alive. So that was probably the right thing to do.” Shoko’s actions had been foolish. You’d had no way of knowing it at the time, but if she’d just held on a little longer perhaps she’d still be alive. The boys could’ve rescued all three of you.
Yuki nodded, brows furrowing as tears pricked at her eyes. You were only just noticing how bloodshot they were, like she’d been crying so regularly that the white was permanently tinged with red.
It was sad to see someone like her reduced to tears.
“Shoko. Oh god,” she sniffled. “I can’t stop seeing her when I close my eyes. I was angry at her when she died, so fucking angry over the fact she’d slept with Choso all those years ago. What kind of a wicked person am I to have felt that way about her in her final moments? It was such an unimportant thing and I was seething at her just before her heart stopped. I’m so fucking selfish.”
You rose to your feet, crossing the gap between the two of you and taking a seat at her side. Your arm looped around her shoulder, and you pulled her close to you as she cried, struggling to hear her ramblings while she wept into your shirt. It was a dynamic you’d never experienced before, unaccustomed to comforting Yuki, but you did your best all the same.
“Stop, Yuki. There’s no point in guilt. She’s gone and there’s nothing we could’ve done - we were both just trying to live.”
She said nothing, and you let her cry for a while longer, stroking your hand through her long blonde hair. It felt like it had been a long time since the two of you had sat together in any amount of harmony for more than five minutes. Ever since Sukuna had come into your life things had been tense and uncomfortable - for once you felt like the two of you were on common ground, just like you had been throughout your teenage years.
Even if this particular common ground was something you wished you didn’t have to share.
Slowly, Yuki drew back from you, drying her tears with her sleeve. She took a deep breath as she stared over at you, cogs working away in her brain, like she had much more to divulge but she wasn’t quite sure how to approach the topic.
“Did he rape you? Mahito?” She asked, abandoning any tact and coming straight out with the question. Your heart picked up in fear at the mere mention of the word, unwilling to consider how close you’d actually come to that fate.
“No. Sukuna found me first.”
She let out a laugh which sounded almost bitter, dropping her voice as she spoke. “Right, of course he did.” Before you could question what she meant by that, she was speaking once more. “I was raped, did you know that? Did your boyfriend tell you that?”
Reeling, you shuffled back from her a little, caught off guard by her fresh burst of spiteful energy. Her statement had come so suddenly that you were struggling to get your head around it, your mind still on her guilt and sorrow for Shoko, struggling to understand how anything had to do with Sukuna.
“What?” You stumbled over the word. “I d-didn’t know. Oh Yuki-”
“Stop. It happened, there’s nothing to be done about that. I’m glad it didn’t happen to you, but were you aware that it didn’t need to happen to me either?”
Still struggling to follow, you tilted your head in question. “O-of course it didn’t need to happen. Those guys were awful, they should have never-”
She sighed, cutting you off. “Of course you don’t know. Why would he have told you? It would ruin his image, wouldn’t it?”
“What?” You asked, dumbfounded and eager for Yuki to just get to the point already. Your head was starting to spin and you didn’t want to focus too hard on anything. If she wanted you to reach a conclusion on your own she'd have to accept that you were in no physical condition to do so at that moment.
“Sukuna saw me. He saw me in a room with that man, skulked about in the hallway watching while Jogo hit me, while he climbed on top of me. He could’ve stopped it, could’ve burst in and helped but he didn’t. He disappeared off to look for you and left me to my fate. It was five minutes until Choso found me, five minutes that I’ll never forget.”
Conflict warred in your heart, leaving you uncertain on how to react. Sukuna had told you Yuki was safe - he’d lied. To leave someone to their fate at the hands of a psychopath was despicable behaviour, and exactly the type of thing that Yuki warned you about when it came to him.
But at the same time you couldn’t help but believe he’d lied for a good reason. His first priority had always been you, and if he’d felt that intervening with Yuki’s situation would leave you to a dire fate, it didn’t surprise you to hear he’d make a harsh decision.
It didn’t make you feel okay about it, but you could understand his thinking. The couple of minutes he’d have taken to save Yuki might’ve been minutes in which you’d be raped or killed, and he was unwilling to risk that.
He’d made a hard decision out of love for you. He’d known Choso was coming for Yuki, but no one else was coming for you except him.
Besides, a nasty part of you questioned Yuki’s statement regardless. It had been a stressful night for all involved, and who was to say that she truly saw what she thought she saw. For this to be the first time she’d mentioned it felt odd, and she’d admitted to wanting to sabotage your relationship once already. You were deeply sorry for what had happened to her, but you couldn’t understand why Sukuna needed to take the blame.
The person deserving of blame was rotting in a prison cell. There was no more to be discussed.
Your thought process must’ve reflected into your eyes, because Yuki’s face contorted into an expression of sheer horror. “Oh my god, you don’t believe me. Why the fuck would I lie? He looked at me and walked away. Your sweet boyfriend left me to be raped.”
“Yuki, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that happened to you. But I’m not going to disparage Sukuna without at least talking to him first. We were all in a stressful situation and everyone made mistakes - you yourself said you made mistakes - it's not fair to assume something that hasn’t even been discussed.”
She shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. What will it take to convince you that he’s rotten?”
You scoffed. “‘To convince me’,” you echoed flatly, “and you wonder why I didn’t instantly believe you. All you ever do is try to drive a wedge between us. If Sukuna had stepped in and saved you - if I’d been raped because of that, you would’ve used that as an excuse to prove he was rotten.”
Yuki parted her lips to protest, but the words died on her tongue. She knew that to be true - no matter the situation she would always use it as an opportunity to twist it around on him. She knew it.
“Please, Yuki, I’ll speak to him about it. I feel terrible about what happened to you but you have to stop attacking my boyfriend at every turn. I already lost Shoko, I don’t want to lose you too.”
She shook her head, shoulders dropping in defeat, a look of sheer disbelief marring her face. “God, he really has you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? It's embarrassing. I feel like I’m watching you get chipped away and I can’t stop it no matter what I do.”
“Perhaps you could’ve tried being kind to me,” you said, voice trembling a little. “For the last few months you’ve done nothing but treat me like I’m stupid, so I’m sorry if I seem difficult, or distant. I don’t want to fight with you, I haven’t even said that I don’t believe you, but you only ever see what you want.”
Yuki bit her lip, shaking her head. “I’m sorry for that. I just couldn’t see another way, and now it's too late, isn’t it? His claws are in you. I suppose his kid is too, huh?” She asked, gesturing to your bag, where a pregnancy test sat within.
You said nothing, tears prickling at your eyes. You didn’t want to deal with any of this, you simply wanted to go home and curl up in a cocoon and forget everything you’d heard from Yuki that morning. You wanted Sukuna to wrap himself around you and play with your hair, and you wanted to stay there for all of time, until everything disappeared but you and him.
“Are you just gonna keep it?” She asked quietly, the plea in her tone not going amiss.
“I don’t know,” you answered coolly, getting to your feet and pulling your bag over your shoulder. You’d gain nothing from staying there longer beyond Yuki taking more shots at your lover, and it would do little to sway your opinion. You’d speak to him about it once he was home later that evening.
But you knew it would change little.
If Yuki and Sukuna were the only witnesses to the situation, they would exchange barbs and differing views until the end of time.
And ultimately you’d have to side with the person you were in love with.
Heading towards the door, you paused at the threshold, casting a look back at your friend. She was staring at you, sadness and anger blending together in her chestnut eyes.
“For the record, Yuki, if the situation was reversed and Choso saw me in peril and walked away knowing that you weren’t safe either and wanted to get to you first, I would forgive him. People prioritise those they love, and you can call that fucked up all you want, but its human nature. I mean, you chose me for Mahito to cut open. We’re all ugly in an ugly situation.”
You didn’t let her speak again, slamming the door behind you and exiting onto the street beyond.
—
The rest of your day had been spent obsessively cleaning Sukuna’s apartment. It was an activity that was long overdue, because things had been piling up over the past few weeks with you in a lethargic state. It would be nice for Sukuna to come home to a clean place, as a thank you for looking after you so well while you’d been incapable of anything.
Besides, cleaning was an activity that allowed you to take your mind off things.
Between the unpleasantness of the conversation you’d had with Yuki, and the positive pregnancy test sitting in the bathroom trash, you could really do with letting your mind go blank at least until Sukuna came home.
Once he was there to share your problems and concerns with, things would be better. Issues always seemed smaller when voiced, and Sukuna always knew the right thing to say or do. Spending the afternoon laying in bed fretting would do you no good.
Starting in the kitchen, you’d been thorough in working your way through Sukuna’s apartment - scrubbing the floors, dusting the bookshelves, wiping the insides of the windows. By the time you made it into the bathroom, your final obstacle for the day, it was growing dark outside.
Sukuna had said he’d be back late that evening. It was the birthday of one of the guys on the construction crew, and he’d been invited out for drinks after work. You were certain it wouldn’t be long until he made it home, never eager on spending too much time with his coworkers, so you picked up your pace as you set to making the bathroom sparkle.
It had been easy, mindless work much like everything else that afternoon until you ran a mop across the floor and knocked a tile loose.
Initially, you’d thought nothing of it, putting the mop aside for a moment and moving to put the tile back in its place below the sink. Your hand faltered at the realisation that there was a hollowed out space beneath the misplaced tile, with a small plastic bag hidden within.
If you were wise, perhaps you would’ve left it alone. Maybe you would’ve assumed that it had been left there by a previous occupant of the apartment, or maybe by the tilers who had originally fitted the bathroom. But curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself reaching into the hole and withdrawing the plastic bag from its position.
What you held was a neatly packed thing, containing a mobile phone, car keys and a wallet. None of the items looked recognisable to you - Sukuna’s phone was black and, as of recently, had a Hello Kitty charm you’d given him dangling from it, meanwhile this phone was silver and bare. Not to mention, the blue wallet looked nothing like Sukuna’s usual leather one.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting as you pulled the items from their bag, wondering if Sukuna even knew of their existence. Perhaps some criminal had lived here before him and had stowed away a spare phone and ID to use for illegal dealings. You placed the phone and keys on the counter, turning your attention immediately to the wallet.
For some reason it felt familiar to you, with the insignia of some heavy metal band printed across the front.
There was no time for you to ponder on where you’d seen it before - no need for you to connect the dots on your own, not when your fingers were already prying open the wallet, gaze falling upon a gut-wrenchingly familiar face staring at you from the ID hidden within.
Hajime Kashimo.
All the air in your lungs disappeared, and you found yourself frozen. No thoughts came to your mind, all you could do was stare blankly at the item in your hand, unwilling to draw any conclusions about what its presence in your boyfriend’s floor meant. Slowly, your eyes moved to the phone, suddenly realising how familiar it was to you - as was the lightning bolt keychain hanging from the set of keys.
Why would anything of Kashimo’s be in Sukuna’s apartment?
They hadn’t known each other.
Your body moved on its own, reaching for the phone and flipping it open, dismayed to find that it was dead, offering no further explanation as to what was going on. Slowly you put it down, sinking to your knees, gaze still fixed on that image of Kashimo staring up at you.
There had to be an explanation for this - some reason for Sukuna to possess these items, something that would make everything make sense. There had to be. And yet, there was some part of you that told you to exert caution, to think lucidly about what you’d just found, to consider the facts of the last time you’d seen Kashimo.
Satoru had told you about the man’s infidelity, and Sukuna had comforted you afterwards. You’d largely considered that moment to be the catalyst for your relationship to bloom. Kashimo had been normal with you for the rest of the reunion, only showing his true colours via text after he’d left.
From a phone that was now in possession of your boyfriend.
Since then, you had heard nothing from Kashimo, aware only of a snippet of a rumor from a university acquaintance that he had moved out of the city and left his band in the lurch. Gone off to Hollywood, apparently, not unlike Yorozu.
Anxiety pushed its way into your chest as your brain connected the last few dots. Sukuna had seemed so comfortable in his execution of Mahito, so controlled in the way he guided your hand, like he’d done it many times before.
Maybe he had done it before.
Perhaps he’d framed Kashimo of something despicable and disposed of him before you could ever verify the truth.
No, no, no.
You wouldn’t believe it. You couldn’t. Sukuna had been nothing but loving towards you, always looking out for your best interests, offering you comfort and protection in your darkest times. He couldn’t have killed him, or if he did there would’ve been a good reason for it.
That you were certain of.
Earlier that day you’d told Yuki that you wouldn’t condemn Sukuna without hearing him out first, and in that moment you were jumping to all kinds of conclusions. There was an explanation - of course there was an explanation, you just needed to ask for it.
Trying to contain the tremor in your hands, you packed the items back into the bag and returned them to their position, sliding the tile back to where it had been before. Letting out a shuddering breath, you tried your best to calm yourself at the click of the front door, your heart rate spiking at the sound of Sukuna’s voice calling out for you.
It was okay. There would be a reasonable explanation for everything. You didn’t need to act strange with the man you loved and you certainly didn’t need to be fearful of him.
You knew that.
Stepping out of the bathroom, you put on a gentle smile of greeting, your worries easing ever so slightly beneath his crimson gaze. He stared at you with such love and reverence, his expression holding a softness which pushed your anxieties straight to the back of your head.
“Rough day, baby?” He asked, crossing the gap between you. A hand came up to stroke your face before pulling you close, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. The contact had your gut tightening with pleasure, and you wondered how you could ever doubt someone you adored so much.
There was an explanation. There had to be an explanation.
A mix of nausea and exhaustion washed over you at the thought of confronting him about it that evening. Between your talk with Yuki and the knowledge that a child was growing within you, you were limited on mental bandwidth, and couldn’t face another shock that evening.
You wanted to get your thoughts in order first about everything - the kid, Yuki’s claim, Kashimo’s belongings - wanted to pretend that everything was okay for the evening before you did anything rash.
All your questions would still be there in the morning, and maybe answers would be more obvious in the light of day. You couldn’t deny that you were exhausted, not thinking straight in the way that usually would. You just needed time to think. Perhaps the next day you’d awaken and realise your findings had been nothing more than a nightmare. You’d had no shortage of those after all.
“Just tired,” you lied as you pulled back from his kiss. The words came out shaky, and Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. He knew you well enough to sniff out a lie with little effort.
“Did something happen?” He asked, his voice dropping low. “You look like you’ve been crying.” You weren’t really aware that you had been. A few tears had dripped down your cheeks at the sight of the positive pregnancy test, still unsure what to think of the outcome, but that was hours ago. You supposed the day had worn on your face more than you’d realised.
“No, just struggling with the usual stuff,” you confessed.
“Right.” His thumb brushed your face tenderly, red eyes darting around the room. “You cleaned up.” It was embarrassing to admit how deeply you read into that observation, scanning for any hint of concern in his voice, but you found none. On the contrary, he seemed pleased with you.
“I just thought it would be nice.”
“Thank you, baby.” He planted a kiss on top of your head, giving you a tight squeeze. You were reminded just how strong he was, suddenly aware of how impossible it would be to overpower him if he ever decided to use that strength against you. A shiver passed through you at the thought.
It didn’t matter. Because there was an explanation for everything. He’d never hurt you. Never.
“What do you want for dinner? We can order from that pizza place you like? Watch an episode of The Sopranos?” He pulled back to look at you, the charming smile you loved so much plastered on his handsome face.
You wanted to say yes, but the thought of sitting with him quietly while all your thoughts were swirling around in your head was far from ideal. You needed to go to sleep, fearful that prolonged time at his side would give away what you knew and put you in a position of having to deal with things before you were ready.
Besides, the idea of watching Tony Soprano kill so ruthlessly on screen while you grappled with the question of whether your boyfriend had done the same didn’t sound like your idea of a good time.
“I think I’m just gonna go to bed. I’ve got a really bad headache and I don’t want to make it any worse.” Sukuna’s face fell, and your own chest ached at the disappointment in his eyes. He’d been waiting all day to come home and spend time with you - he’d confessed that was what kept him going at work.
Just like he’d been your shining light through all the trauma, you were his shining light too - the one thing that really mattered to him. And here you were pushing him away over something you were certain could be explained.
That wasn’t fair.
But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him about it either to clear the confusion up, hairs standing on the back of your neck when you considered broaching the topic.
It was just a result of your exhaustion. That was all.
“Okay, baby. Have you taken anything for the pain?.” His hand brushed soothingly against your forehead, and guilt knotted itself together in your stomach. How could you believe this man guilty of any wrongdoing when he was always so tender to you?
Did it even matter if he was guilty? He was all you really had, the singular thing keeping you sane after everything that had happened. It was likely your overactive imagination jumping to conclusions anyway, that was the issue here, not Sukuna. Not the man who loved you so much he’d do absolutely anything for your sake.
“I haven’t.”
“I’ll get you some painkillers, you go and lie down.” Another dizzy spell overcame you as you made your way to the bedroom, leaning heavily against the doorframe as all the thoughts of the day rushed at you. You didn’t want to be at odds with Sukuna over anything. You wanted to curl up against his side and drift off knowing you were safe.
Because you were safe with him. He’d saved you from Mahito. And now your brain was trying to convince you that something was wrong? You were always sabotaging yourself - how could you be sure that Kashimo’s belongings had even been under those floorboards? You hadn’t exactly been able to trust your mind lately.
What if you’d hallucinated up an issue? What then?
The pregnancy had come as a massive shock to you, perhaps your brain was trying to come up with excuses as to why it wouldn’t work.
Somewhere within you, there was an awareness that line of thinking was delusional. Likewise, there was an awareness that there was no mistake in the meaning behind Sukuna owning things that had belonged to Kashimo. You knew, somewhere in the distant recesses of your mind, that Kashimo was dead.
That Sukuna had done it.
And with that flickered a question about what else he had done, a thought promptly swept away by the currents of your mind before you could cling to it. Because acceptance didn’t come easy, not when you loved the person responsible.
You couldn’t let yourself believe it, forcing a smile and accepting your own poor mental state as an explanation for what you’d seen.
Sukuna stepped into the bedroom, painkillers in hand along with a glass of water which he handed over to you. There was something odd in his expression, like he had a question to ask you. Slowly he sat down on the bed, reaching out for your hand and holding it tightly within his.
“Have you got something to tell me?”
For all the delusion you’d fed yourself, your blood still ran cold. Had you put the tile back incorrectly? Did he know what you knew? Sweat gathered on your brow, tongue frozen in your mouth when you tried to speak, unsure how to best formulate a question or an explanation.
He wouldn’t hurt you, would he? No, you doubted it. He was too possessive of you.
Before you could put any words together, he spoke once more. “I saw the test in the trash.”
Oh. You’d been so frazzled upon knocking the tile aside that you hadn’t finished your full clean of the bathroom, and had forgotten to empty the wastebin, leaving your positive test there for anyone to see. You hadn’t formulated a plan on how you were going to share the news with him, but you hadn’t wanted him to find out like this.
Before you could stop them, tears sprung to your eyes, all the emotion of the day overwhelming you. There was too much going on for you to process it. With the Kashimo discovery and Yuki’s harsh words you’d had no time to think about your opinion on the pregnancy, and now you were being directly confronted on it.
Why couldn’t you just catch a break for once?
Sukuna’s eyes widened in panic, and he was quick to wrap his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. “Hey, don’t cry. It's okay baby, come here.”
It wasn’t okay, nothing was okay.
But you leant into his embrace all the same, wetting his hoodie with your tears in a display which had become all too common between the two of you. He didn’t push you for anything more, expecting no explanation, simply stroking your hair affectionately. You could feel his heart thudding excitedly beneath his ribs and once again a strange guilt prickled at you.
“Do you…” He trailed off. “Do you not want this? The baby?”
A pang of hurt went straight through your heart at the dejected nature of his tone. It was clear that he was thrilled, that seeing the test lying in the trash had been something positive for him.
And there you were moping and doubting.
“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I feel like I’m just being overwhelmed lately. I don’t have time to even consider what I really think about the baby.” You pulled back from him slightly, letting him dab your tears with his fingers.
“What else is on your mind? Maybe I can help?”
“Nothing.” The statement came out too quickly, and in a higher pitch than you would’ve liked. Sukuna seemed suspicious of the response for a moment, before letting it go with a sigh. You’d been fairly odd lately anyway, and considering what he’d just discovered, who could blame you for being a bit off? “I’m just- I don’t know, depressed from everything.”
He nodded, biting on his lower lip. “Well, it's not like you have to make a decision now, you can’t be far along. If you don’t want it we’ll deal with that.” There was a sadness in his voice that told you that wasn’t what he wanted to do, and pity began to gnaw away at your stomach. “To be clear, I’d like you to keep it, but it's your choice baby. I know how hard these months have been. I’ll love you no matter what.”
A soft kiss was pressed into your hair, sending a flush across your cheeks. Of course he’d love you no matter what, he’d made that clear on more than one occasion. Could you love him no matter what? If your suspicions about Kashimo bore fruit? If Yuki’s claim was true?
How would you implode if you walked away from him? What would you have then, in a life where you’d steadily been falling apart at the seams with nothing but him to hold you together?
The anxiety built up within you again, and despite wanting to lay the matter to rest for a while, you simply couldn’t. You had to ask him.
“Sukuna.”
“Yeah?”
“Would you kill for me?”
“Yeah.” He said it without hesitation. There was no dramatic flair to his response, nothing to suggest that what he said was false bravado like most boyfriends might display to their partners. It was a simple confirmation, one that you knew to be true as his red eyes met yours. “You know I would. You’ve seen it.”
He was right. Even if your hand had been on the trigger that evening with Mahito, it had been Sukuna who was in control - his hand caressing your carefully, guiding you into an action you never would’ve managed on your own.
It wasn’t a first kill. You should’ve been more aware of that the moment it happened. Sukuna had been painfully calm.
“Right,” your voice went quiet.
Sukuna’s fingers came to graze your chin, holding you to meet his gaze properly. There was no hate or anger in those red eyes - you never encountered anything but love there, a love that made your stomach flip with desire whenever you saw it, a love that you weren't sure could be displaced by anything even if you wanted it to be.
“Why do you ask, baby?” His nose brushed against yours, and again you found yourself tongue-tied beneath the intensity of your presence. You knew you should've come out and said what you saw, but fear stopped you. Because the moment those words spilt from your mouth, everything was going to change, you knew that.
And you weren’t sure it was a change you wanted.
“I- um- I don’t know. Just wondering.” You squeaked, cursing yourself as you backed down.
There was something amused in his expression, watching you carefully, not unlike a cat observing a mouse caught beneath its paws. “I’d kill anyone who caused you harm, anyone who tried to steal away your happiness. I killed Mahito to protect you, and I’d do it again. You’re the only person who matters to me. Is that a problem?”
It was a problem, but his words tugged on your heartstrings all the same. There was something romantic about a man who would do anything for you. If you hadn't been with a man like Sukuna, who knows where you’d be. Perhaps your brains would’ve been splattered across the floor at Mahito’s feet.
“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know if it's a problem. It depends.”
“On?”
“How far you would go.” Sukuna’s eyes glimmered with interest. He brought his lips to your neck, kissing away at the exposed skin, almost as if he was testing whether you’d push him away. You didn’t, you weren’t sure that you could, your heart fluttering desperately beneath his touch, telling you to forget the conversation and move on.
You were having such a good time, why open a can of worms when things had been fine?
“I would go as far as necessary to keep you safe. That’s all,” he murmured against your skin. “Now, is there something specific you want to ask? Or is this nothing more than a thought experiment?”
Again you tried to build your courage, but found you had none to give. In your frazzled condition you weren’t certain you were capable of providing objectivity on anything. You needed to regroup - to think carefully about what Sukuna had said and re-examine the evidence you’d found. You needed to look at Kashimo's phone. You needed to consider whether Sukuna’s presence at your side trumped morality.
After all, you were a killer too. What if Sukuna had his reasons for the situation with Kashimo, like you’d had your reasons with Mahito? There was always an angle to consider, and in the midst of a panic on the day you’d found out you were pregnant, was neither the time nor the place.
“It was just a thought,” you spoke softly, leaning into the fluttering kisses spreading down against your shoulder, his fingers pushing your shirt down to give him better access to his soft skin, sucking marks on top of the purple bruises that already existed there.
He hummed, but you weren’t confident he believed you, a shock of something strange in his deep red eyes. “Of course, baby.” His hands slid beneath your shirt, sliding up the bare skin of your sides, earning a shiver from you. His touch was still as pleasant as ever, still something you yearned desperately for.
And despite him being the cause of much of your anxiety that evening, he also seemed like the only solution - the one person who could allay all your worries with his mere presence, touching you with an affection that you could receive from nobody but him. The very reason that you would jump to no conclusions or decisions.
You loved him.
You needed him.
It was as simple as that.
“Want me to leave you alone for a bit?” He whispered huskily against your ear. “You said you wanted to sleep.”
It probably would’ve been best for you to agree - to nod along and leave him to have his dinner alone while you drifted off beneath his soft sheets. But you couldn’t bring yourself to send him away any more than you could bring yourself to condemn him for evidence that lay plain before your eyes.
“I want you here, if that’s okay?”
The look on his face could only be described as pure euphoria, like you’d just handed him an award you weren’t aware you were giving out. He was always thrilled to be with you, but this was something else, like a balance of power had just shifted and you weren’t sharp enough to understand how.
“Of course. I’d do anything for you, baby.”
That night, you spent hours tangled in his sheets just as usual. His fingers intertwined with yours, keeping you pinned beneath him, his lips set to work on every inch of your tired body while he filled you up over and over again with long, intimate strokes. This was Sukuna at his very sweetest, making love to you in a manner that proved his devotion.
There was no roughness about it, nothing kinky like you’d grown accustomed to with him.
This was deeply loving, and it was all about you. There was something in his movements that was sending you a message, as if he was thanking you or perhaps opening up to you on a whole different level of trust that you’d never held with each other before.
“You’re mine, you’ll always be mine, won’t you baby? I’ll never let anyone else have you.” He’d mumbled in your ear, just one of many possessive statements breathed out between desperate moans of pleasure. And you’d agreed, lost in the throes of passion, consumed by him just like you always were.
Because you really were his.
You didn’t want anything to change that.
It would be nice to be able to slip back into the ignorance you’d held that morning, before you’d spoken to Yuki or cleaned the damn apartment. It really was bliss, to not have concern and anxiety eating away at your chest, leading you to question everything you held sacred in your life.
If only you could banish it all away.
Because in your soul, deep in there, you knew now that Sukuna was rotten.
On some level you’d known it for a while. Yuki and your parents had made no mistake in their assessments, and you’d brushed it aside all the same. You were drawn inexplicably to the man even through all his failings. If you’d had any sense you would’ve run far from him the moment he’d broken in through your window. But you didn’t, and there you were, tangled up so intimately with a man who had likely murdered your ex-boyfriend.
Tangled with him and whispering words of love and affection against his shoulder, tangled with him and letting his hands run over your stomach where your baby grew, tangled with him and letting him do whatever he liked with you - just as you always had.
Because even as the rot he carried with him festered, visible to your eyes in a way it never had been before, you still weren’t sure you could bear to part with him.
a/n: sukuna actually crazy for the impact he's had on reader's mental over several years (since ryu) to the point where she's even hesitating after finding that stuff in his bathroom :(
stay with the murderous boyfriend and pretend everything's fine vs confront him and lose everything you love (and possibly your life) our girl is going THROUGH it :(
hope you enjoyed and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨From a food baby to.. an actual baby? ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Tags: [MDNI]husband!nanami x foodie!wife reader. SMUT and a sprinkle of fluff. Breeding (?), p in v, oral sex (f recieving), mating press, freaks in an established relationship (married), pregnancy. I need to stop writing smut but this has been in my drafts..
Ever since you were a little kid, you looooved eating.
And it's not like your parents teaching you to try everything at least once helped as you ended up growing up to be a foodie with no pickiness when it comes to eating at all.
Enter Nanami who you met at 21, just a year from graduating college, at one of the new local bakeries which you had just discovered recently back then.
He was all crisp button downs, dark blue slacks, cuffed sleeves, messenger bag slung over his shoulder—a walking portrait of what you just wished you would be waking up to in less than 10 years.
You didn't expect to run into him any more times after you'd seen him at the pastry shop ever again, he's one of those sights you only see once in your life.
Well, you were very wrong.
That same week, same time, three days later when you went back for a pick me up, he was there. Picking up the same order you noticed he got last time, and somehow looking finer than Monday did him justice.
Just out of curiosity, you asked for the same sandwich he got—a French Casse-croûte—fresh ham and cheese hidden in a crisp baguette baked early in the morning.
So simple, yet so heavenly. Though, you underestimated your stomach's capacity of hosting the large sandwich and... Had a little food baby pressing against the linen cloth of your yellow sundress.
Nanami noticed you had purchased and consumed the same sandwich he had—though not a social person at all, he found himself walking over to your table and making small talk.
“I’m impressed you finished it.” He had commented, you were wiping remaining crumbs from the corners of your mouth when his voice startled you.
Immediately you had flushed a deep shade of beetroot, suddenly feeling way too conscious about your dress being a tad bit tighter around the waist, the hair sticking to your neck and the fire burning the apples of your cheeks.
Because he was there talking to you when not even three days ago you were daydreaming about the handsome stranger you’d seen—the epitome of your type if you had one.
Grounding yourself surprisingly quickly, you had sheepishly smiled when replying “Oh it sure was a challenge..”, in a shy mutter.
Then, you realised how greedy you sounded and immediately stirred to fix your words up.
“I mean—I, uh, I was just really hungry you know? At work-” you began rambling, hoping to save face in front of perfectly gelled back hair and sculptured cheekbones that had women’s knees weak for days.
but Nanami broke out in a soft chuckle he hadn’t realised he needed until a pretty stranger pulled one out of him.
He left you with his business card and called one day later like he promised.
Fast forward five years later, you still have the now-outdated business card neatly kept in your bedside table along with your husband’s initial draft for your wedding vows which you found more authentic than the version he ended up reading to the audience on your special day—heartwarming and emotional nonetheless.
Living with Kento has taught you a slow world you never thought existed within all of the noise and chaos.
Every page from a book is turned slowly, every step of the day is calculated with no effort—just routine, every hour with your husband is priceless.
And you didn’t imagine this side of life existed. Where every human sentiment somehow was deeper and stronger when it was shared with your person.
Living within Nanami’s comfort zone is learning that his routine bends to you, and eventually incorporates your life into his.
It’s learning that he loves waking up with the sheets tangled between your legs, one of his hands buried in your hair as your face is pressed against his bare chest.
That he adores pressing reverent kisses to your neck, forehead, palm, temple. With a burning gaze that says more than any verbal statement ever could.
However, you learn that your husband relishes in afteroon reading with you snugly tucked by his side on the loveseat in your makeshift library corner, more than the normal person does.
Which is exactly where you are, pressed against his side, head on his shoulder, half of your brain paying attention to the words on the page he’s reading, the other half dipping into a dangerous side as you feel his warmth spread over you.
You’re insatiable, just hours ago Kento cooked you a full-course meal because you woke up “feeling empty” not really knowing what is wrong with you and thinking that just a hearty meal will do.
Creamy alfredo pasta did not in fact solve your issue. Now, once again with an empty stomach, you hold in the urge to open your mouth and disturb your husband’s reading.
Just what were you even going to complain about? It’s not like you were hungry.
And then it clicks.
Slowly, the corners of your lips gently pull upward as your fingers trace up his torso, feeling the dip of his hard abs, the rough lines of scars underneath his breathable pijama shirt.
God he is a sight for sore eyes.
The cogs turn in your head as you start to wriggle your way out from underneath his muscular arm draped over your figure, which was holding you close to him, palm on your hip.
His head turns from the book balanced between his fingers, eyes zeroing on your shifting figure that was slowly crawling over his bulky legs.
An eyebrow of his subtly lifts subconsciously as he carefully watches your every moment. The book in his hand lowers and closes—page forgotten, bookmark nowhere to be seen—as you sit yourself on his lap facing him, knees digging into the soft leather of the loveseat.
Using your hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself, you slightly fight back a smirk when you feel Kento's hands find their place on your waist almost instantly after you get comfortable.
This position is no stranger to either of you—which is why Nanami puts the pieces of the puzzle together quicker than anyone else could. So this is what you meant when you said you felt empty?
It makes even more sense when he remembers that a few days ago your period tracker said you would be ovulating soon. Absentmindedly, his fingers trace gentle figures on your hips where his hands have lowered to.
You peer down at him, swimming in his alluring hazel eyes full of an unspeakable kind of love—feeling yourself melt into him.
He breaks the silence, "What is it, darling?" Even though he knows the clear answer, he asks.
Drawing closer to him, your head dips past his chin and you go to press a light kiss to his throat, feeling him swallow when you do. The familiar shape of him starts to grow beneath you.
Again, you feel pride creep up your spine, but you push it down and kiss the side of his neck—itching closer to his collarbone with each kiss peppered. You hear his breath lose it's steadyness little by little.
After a bit of teasing, you finally answer with a shrug "I feel..weird.” Letting a defeated sigh slip past your lips as they press up and at the peak of his right cheekbone.
“Weird?” He chokes out. “What do you mean by weird, honey?”
You hum as you shift over him, deliberately circling letters over his lap and dragging your thinly covered warmth against him.
“I guess I feel kind of.. empty.” The sultry tone in which your voice has dropped to makes blood rush at an embarrassing speed to Nanami’s cock—stiffening like a teenager underneath you.
“Yeah?” He hums.
You bite your lips, tongue then tracing your canines as you run your hands over his broad chest.
“Yeah.”
“I can do something about that.” His hand curves around your ass, firmly grabbing onto the skin—not enough to hurt, enough to have you dripping even more.
Your eyes lift to his face—clean,shaved, no hair to see, pink lips, drooping eyes. “You can?” You muse.
He smiles, a smirk he tried to suppress knowing what you’re going to ask for next.
“Like what?”
And before your question can even land, he gets up. Two hands under your thighs, effortlessly carrying your body.
Carefully, he turns and lays you down on the loveseat. Bracing his broad frame by the armrests—face dangerously close to yours.
Noses brushing, musk and manliness oozing out of him so much your legs close and you can feel yourself pulsing down there.
The roles are reversed and you are so whipped for your husband it’s not even funny anymore. How he has completely turned the tables.
A pin drops somewhere and Kento’s lips gently latch onto yours. Warmth and love exploding in your chest. Neediness clawing at you as your hands wrap around his shoulder’s.
He kisses like you’re a forbidden fruit he can’t resist tasting—happily accepting his sin. Basking in it when a swipe of his tongue under your lips opens a whole world he knows at the back of his hand.
You feel him exploring you—one hand running up your thigh—pressing a thumb against the wet material of your panties.
A moan from you vibrates against his lips. He detaches to hear more as his fingers slip past the lace and dive right into you.
The needy whine that escapes you has him thanking the gods for your paths crossing—for the universe giving him such a good wife.
His mind starts to run wild at the thought of what he’s going to do to you.
Thought he would never push or admit it. Nanami has found himself getting turned on way too often lately at the sight of you bloated, belly full of food after a hearty meal.
At the beginning of your relationship, he tried to ignore the sight—figuring you’d get insecure or uncomfortable if he looked at it for too long.
But he’s been having a hard time not relishing in your well-fed shape.
He’d never admit he cooks more food than usual lately to see you drape your hand under the protruding curve and huff out like you’re in pain from eating so much.
Because the sight of you so full drives him insane.
So insane the thought of using a condom doesn’t even cross his mind when you have sex. It doesn’t help that you have no intention of reminding him.
What would you look like if you were full of him?
His child.
A walking testament of him feeding you well.
A sharp moan snaps him out of his thoughts and he kneels down, taking his slicked fingers from your pussy and spreading your legs wide in front of him.
You’re blushing like crazy. Heat crawling up your spine, bundling up at your neck and cheeks—he’s barely even touched you.
Nanami’s big hands slide under your legs, hooking onto the thin material that has snapped back in place and pulling it off.
His face comes closer to your pussy subconsciously—body begging for a taste before his mind can even catch up.
And he dives in, hands hooked on your thighs, pulling you down the seat and closer to his face so he can lick up your slicked lips.
You become putty in his hands, back already arching off the seat. He sucks and sucks, greets with open mouth kisses—desperately devours like it’s his first time on earth.
Nose casually nudging your entrance, making your body jerk so violently that you almost cry at the blissful feeling.
Kento’s tongue slides into your walls, tasting your sweet nectar straight from the source and losing himself in its sweetness.
Your mind starts going blank, babbles of complete nonsense spilling out of your mouth as he jumpstarts your orgasm.
“Honey—don’t stop-please—“
He doesn’t, instead, a finger slips in—unexpectedly, but so welcome one your desperate hole starts clenching around him.
“Shit I’m going to—” You try to tell him the coil in your lower belly is going to snap but it does before you’re finished, coating his tongue, chin and nose in you and only you.
Panting, you try to catch your breath but your husband’s jaw doesn’t put itself to rest as he continues to lap up every drop of your juices over your sensitive clit.
Back arching off the loveseat, high-pitched moans rip from your chest from the overstimulation.
“Kento—” You whine.
He pulls back silent, shiny chin and drowsy eyes looking up at you from his position—a sinful picture that has heat pooling in between your legs again.
“Yes, sweetheart?” The urge to ride his face when his deep voice calls out to you with those nicknames is immense, but you want him.
“Inside—please go-”
“Your words, darling, use them.” Your hands find his forearm rested over your spread thigh and you dig your fingernails into them.
“Ken, please—please fuck me.”
A frown overtakes his face, lips disapprovingly pulling down into a pityful pout.
“I’m not going to fuck you, honey. I’ve already told you that.”
And it’s true, Nanami does not fuck. He is a stranger to the act of using someone as a tool for him to get off, belittle them into a good fuck or a bad one.
He loves.
And he loves you so much.
“Love me, Ken.”
A small smirk breaks out.
You have him.
He climbs over you, heavy—muscular thighs barely fitting between your spread out legs where he presses his clothed hard-on against your slit.
From the sensitivity, you almost moan against him.
His lips latch onto yours again, hungrily yet deliberately finding their way down your throat—making you taste your remains on his tongue.
Your hands travel down to the hem of his thin cotton sweatpants and hook your fingers both onto that seam, and his boxer’s waistband.
Simultaneously, the two layers that were between the both of you drop to the floor. Thick 7,5 inches to match his 6 feet of height.
Girthy, one prominent vein leading to the shaft and bringing your eyes to his dusty blonde happy trail.
Sculpted v-line that has you going feral for days.
Gosh, you really love your husband in all of his glory.
Wrapping your hand—and barely being able to fully grasp it—around him, you stroke a few times before rubbing him against your bare pussy.
A shock of electricity shooting up your spine at the feeling of his precum mixing with your slick. Nanami groans against your lips before delicately pulling your hand away and taking over.
Already nudging at the entrance has you biting down his soft lips to hold back a moan.
The tip slips inside after some coaxing, your fingernails dig into his shoulder’s for stability, legs shaking due to the pressure.
Kento tries to tether you, “That’s it, love. Relax, I got you.”
And he really does.
He pulls away from your lips every time he pushes himself a bit more inside, carefully watching your face—searching for any sign of pain or backing out.
Not once do you display any, so he bottoms out. Balls pressing against the soft skin of your ass over the expensive leather.
While you adjust, still inside, he rearranges both of your legs to rest over his shoulders as he hunches and looms over you.
Slowly, he starts moving. The deliberate drags of his cock between your velvety walls tattoo themselves into your gummy brain.
Eyes fluttering—opening and closing from pleasure, you feel yourself start to ascend to that personal heaven he always takes you to.
You clench around his size, unable to relax but enjoying the burn so much.
A hand of yours claws at his shirt, trying to bring him closer, harder. He wastes no time in delivering his sweet wifes request.
One thrust and you feel him in your throat, pale pink tip pushing past your cervix—probably going to bruise it later on.
But you love it.
And he continues. In and out, back and forth. A frothy creamy ring building at the base where your bodies meet.
He sees the bulge of him in your stomach, the imprint of his cock peeking through and his mind goes haywire.
The image of your protruding stomach after a meal, the idea of you leaking with his cum running down your thighs, the thought of a little baby with your genetics growing inside of your swollen belly.
Nanami’s control breaks with a hard snap.
His hips slow down, gently stroking your insides now. No longer pulling you apart. But he shifts, lowers his chest down, teeth finding your nipples and cock angled at a new direction.
You try to focus on what he’s doing still. Then the controlled thrust comes—slow, but so deep you know this is how he can get a baby in you.
Now, you feel full.
And you can only hope he leaves you this way.
“Mmh-Kento?”
He detaches his head from your tit. “Yes, sweetie?”
His cock slides out your pussy until only the very tip of it is inside before he rams himself home again.
“Oh my go—” you get cut off from your vision going blank at the pleasure. “—Kento, stay- inside.”
You clench around him, not wanting him to leave.
“Oh?” He knows what you want. He’s your husband after all. Doting, careful.
“Please.” You breathe out, pleading, clawing at his back under his shirt. His pace picks up just enough to be rhythmic but intimate.
“You want me to fill you up?”
Not even a beat goes by before you whimper. “Yesyesyes.”
So he stays inside. He finds your clit with thick fingers, gives her enough attention for you to get on cloud 9.
Slams into you till you spasm around his cock and then fills you up. Paints your insides with him.
And suddenly, you no longer feel empty.
But maybe you need a few more rounds to ensure you will be full of him for some time.
At 9 months pregnant though, you desperately need to feel empty. The weight of your son making you feel like an overfilled dumpling about to pop.
Your husband has his large hands that got you in this position in the first place on your lower back, applying pressure and massaging your aching hips while you hunch over the edge of the hospital bed as your lower half bounces on a gym ball.
“Ken, I curse you and your heavy baby.”
He doesn’t know if he should laugh or comfort you. No, he’s not vexed at all by you cursing him—he knows how his heavy son has been giving you a hard time in your first pregnancy so he’s not going to deny he is the cause of it.
In the end, he chooses the latter. “Just a bit more, honey. You’re strong, he’ll be here in no time.”
“He better be or I’ll strangle you!”
He got his nine months of your stomach poking out from under your clothes, nine months of you looking like a goddess around the house and glowing more than the sun.
Nine months of it driving him crazy how you are swollen with him.
Who knew his wife being a foodie would turn him on so much…
Anyway,
Nanami Kento is right where he wants to be.
Fanart by aradiart (middle one) and k_u_r_o_2_ both on X. Oh and a 🤍 for u!
husband!Sukuna is the type to wrap himself around you and big spoon you so tightly at night, that you wake up drenched in sweat, with tingling of pins and needles in your legs compressed between his, and his soft breaths tickling your neck.
husband!Sukuna is the type to actually wake up at 6 am just to feed your clumsy little cat, who somehow prefers him over you (she thinks Sukuna is her big biological cat mother).
husband!Sukuna is the type to pretend to be full when you’re eyeing his food at the restaurant, just to hunt down the fridge later at 3 am and finish all your meal prep for the week.
husband!Sukuna is the type to pick you up by the waist in a large crowd and hold you that way for a few moments, just so you can see what’s happening in the front.
husband!Sukuna is the type to pretend he’s getting annoyed by you tracing his tattoos, but he secretly loves it so much that he finds excuses to want a ‘massage’ just to have your hands on him after a long day at work.
husband!Sukuna is the type to flick your forehead when you’re disturbing his sleep, just to plant a peck on the spot right after you glare at him.
husband!Sukuna is the type to bring home a random assortment of Lush bath bombs ‘for you’, just to find an excuse to use the extra ones himself.
husband!Sukuna is the type to stare at your face, looking up like a little puppy for the entire hour you’re helping him touch up his roots because he loves getting pampered.
husband!Sukuna is the type who walks around at home wearing only boxers, to the point that the neighbour from the opposite building never opens their curtains anymore.
husband!Sukuna is the type to trigger your anger because he knows your weak spots and loves it when you get mad at him (it turns him on)
husband!Sukuna is the type to keep damaging too many locks and door handles around the house because he accidentally uses too much force to open them to impatiently get to you.
husband!Sukuna is the type to try a new recipe he learned and force feed it to you, even if it has terrible seasoning ratios, because he wants your honest feedback (he just wants you to not skip meals)
husband!Sukuna is the type to not want kids, but secretly wants to see your pregnant belly someday after seeing you handle his annoying niece surprisingly well.
husband!Sukuna is the type to lounge around you between his sets at the gym, waiting to slap any creepy man who looks at his wife with bad intentions.
husband!Sukuna is the type to secretly memorize the name of the setting powder you ran out of, just to cluelessly stand in Sephora while the staff insists on helping him (he wants to tell you he found it himself later)
husband!Sukuna is the type to carry you bridal style to your room while you’re passed out from fever medications and stroke your hair with his big hands, accidentally knotting a few strands.
husband!Sukuna is the type to end the evening by laying his big head on your belly, mumbling in his sleep, because he says he loves the warmth but he secretly just loves getting babied by you.
a/n: not proofread!
+1 i unhealthily yearn for a yearner like soft sukuna plssssss lordddddd 😩
Subby Cho that gets upset when he hears that you’re going out with your friends again because he wants you with him. You ask him to be patient and say that it won’t be long. What you didn’t except was for him to send you nudes the entire night out and telling you how much he misses you. When you get home he acts all clueless. So, you punish him. ( make him cry, overstimulate and peg him pls🙏)
“Choso.” You spoke firmly, watching him through the mirror. Currently, you are trying to get ready for a well-deserved night out. Some friends had texted you, wanting to see you again. Apparently, ever since you got yourself a boyfriend, they hardly ever see you.
That might have been the truth.
Because your boyfriend Choso Kamo was a clingy one. The clingiest. Following you around everywhere, be it to the store or the bathroom. Wanting to see you as often as possible, even if he had to drive home five times a day. And when you were on vacation, he went through withdrawal. You were the drug keeping him alive.
But sometimes, you just want to hang out with your friends without worrying about him. Watching him through the mirror, you finished the final touches of your makeup. He sat on your bed, slumped over, sulking and pouting while looking at you. He let out the occasional sigh, trying to get your attention.
“I'll be back by 10, okay?” You stood up, walking towards him. He looked up at you with droopy eyes as you cupped his face. “Don't miss me too much…”
That was easier said than done. He already missed you, and you hadn't even stepped outside the door.
“You're killing me here, Y/n.” He whined dramatically, falling back into your sheets. You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag before trying to put on your shoes. “You can stay here if you want.” The way he looked at you tugged at your heart. You loved him very much, but sometimes you two had to do your own things. You two had to live your separate lives. It won't be long, you told him. He just had to be patient and wait for you. It wasn't like you'd never find your way back to him. You'd meet up with your friends at the restaurant, talk, eat, have a few drinks, have a good laugh, then head back home.
He followed you to your front door, kissing you goodbye about seven times while holding on to your waist. When you wanted to leave, get out of his grip, he wouldn't let you. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, resting his head in the crook of your neck. But just as suddenly as he had held you captive, he let go of you.
Now, you could finally head out. The sooner you leave, the earlier you can find an excuse to rush home. You arrived at the restaurant and expected your boyfriend to blow up your phone. But to your surprise, he had only told you to let him know when you reached the restaurant safely. Once you did, he told you to have fun. That made you smile to yourself. He was such a good boy today.
So you set your phone down and enjoyed the evening. You had almost forgotten how much fun it was to hang out with your girls. The laughter, the gossip, the shared stories and drinks, it was amazing. All this took about 30 minutes. Then the messages started.
Your phone screen started lighting up every other minute. When you checked the messages, there were quite a few texts from him, telling you how much he missed you. But then, he sent you a picture. Opening the text, you thought he'd sent you a picture of his pouty face. No, it was better.
He started sending you nudes all night. When you saw the first picture he sent you, you slammed your phone down, choking on your drink. Hoping no one had seen the picture, you cleared your throat. Your friends could tell something was up. But you didn't let them in on your little secret. Choso kept on sending you pictures of every body part of his you liked. From his pecs to his abs, from his abs to his ass, from his ass to his dick and so on. All while sending you ‘’I missed you 🥺” texts all night. He was driving you crazy.
So crazy, you made up an excuse much earlier than you had anticipated, not letting him know beforehand. You drove home, ready to deal with him. You knew he could be a brat, but today was way too much.
He was surprised when he heard your keys at the front door, rushing out of your room immediately, perking up like a puppy. He smiled from ear to ear. But his smile fell as soon as you stepped in and glared at him.
“Baby?” No response from you. You stepped across the room, taking one slow step at a time. He backed up, trying to get away from you, until you backed him into a wall. Then he gulped, because you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, dragged him into your room and pushed him onto the bed. “What's wrong? Cat caught your tongue?” You pinned his arms down, knee resting against his crotch as he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut.
“I didn't do anything…” he muttered, trying to free himself from your grip. Now, he was boldly lying to you. Laughing to yourself, you got off him, taking off a few of your clothes, grabbing your strap and putting it on. After that, you grabbed a bottle of lube from your nightstand. Before he could even spread his legs properly, you pulled off his pants and boxers.
Pushing his legs up to his chest in a swift motion, you noticed he had already prepared himself. I didn't do anything, my ass, you thought to yourself. He knew what he was doing, and he knew why he was doing it. He wanted your attention, right? He had it now. “Keep your legs up there.” He nodded, wrapping his arms around his thighs to keep them there. His hole looked prepared already, clenching around nothing in anticipation.
Slapping the tip of your strap against his hole, making him whine. “You want it, huh.’’ You rubbed yourself against him before slipping into him gently. He gasped when you bottomed out inside him, reaching deep. Not giving him much time to adapt, you started thrusting into him slowly, making sure to angle your hips just right. You hit as deep and as hard as you could, serving as a contrast to those slow strokes you were giving him. He whimpered, throwing his head back as you fucked him into the sheets. At some point, he let go of his legs, holding on to the sheets as you held his legs up, drilling into him.
“Fuck… Baby-” he pressed his flat hand against your lower abdomen, preventing you from going too deep. But you grabbed his hand, pinning it down, using your free hand to stroke his dick. “‘G-Gonna come!” He squealed, throwing his head back once again.
Laughing, you slapped his dick playfully, going back to stroking him. “Already?’’
A tight knot formed in his stomach, threatening to unravel at any second. And then it hit him. His orgasm came crashing down on him in waves, making him let out a high-pitched scream. He went quiet for a second before white ropes of cum shot out of his dick, right onto his chest. He let out a series of whimpers, trying to come down from his high.
To no avail.
You wouldn't let up. Instead, you increased in pace, drilling into him faster now. He was so sensitive, dick leaking and twitching from the overstimulation, hands flying, trying to stop you as tears welled up in his eyes.
“It's too much!”
But you didn't care. This was his punishment after all.
Being loved by the strongest is complicated.
Being married to him as a sorcerer from a despised clan makes you dangerous.
But no one is foolish enough to cross the line of an utterly devoted man, right?
cr: @_3aem on X
CW / Fic tags: NSFW. Married couple/Established relationship. Plot & Smut. Possessiveness. Vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, creampie, oral sex (f and m rec), inappropiate use of cursed technique, fluff, hurt/comfort. Satoru Gojo goes insane
“Baby—”
You silenced him with a kiss, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of reassurance into it until he melted against you. When you pulled back, you dropped to your knees right there on the rug in front of the window, the city lights painting his sharp cheekbones.
Your fingers worked his belt open with practiced ease, tugging his clothes just enough to free him.
“Look at you” you murmured, voice husky with want. “So perfect. My strong, beautiful husband. Always carrying the weight of the world, but right now..” you licked a slow stripe from base to tip, savoring the way his hips jerked and a low groan tore from his throat “You’re mine to spoil.”
“Fuck—sweetheart, you don’t have to—”
“I want to” you cut in, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum. “I need to. Let me worship you, Satoru. You deserve to feel good. You deserve everything.” You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, and the broken sound he made sent heat flooding between your thighs. “Mmm, that’s it. Let me hear you. You’re so big, so hot in my mouth. Love how you fill me up.”
His head fell back against the glass with a soft thud, white lashes fluttering. “Shit—your mouth, baby, it’s—ngh—too good. You’re gonna kill me.”
You hummed around him, the vibration pulling another curse from his lips. You worked him with long, wet strokes, one hand stroking what you couldn’t take.
Every praise spilled out between licks and sucks: “So pretty when you’re falling apart for me… You’re doing so well baby, just relax and let me take care of everything.”
His thighs trembled. “You’re—fuck—gonna make me come if you keep talking like that.”
“Good,” you purred, pulling off just long enough to look up at him through your lashes, lips shiny and swollen. “I want you to come down my throat. Want to swallow every drop like the good wife I am. Because you’re mine. All of this power, all of this beauty—it’s mine to please.”
He cursed again, fingers tightening in your hair as you sank back down, taking him to the back of your throat and swallowing around him.
The praise kept flowing, muffled but fervent, until his hips stuttered and he came with a raw, guttural moan of your name. You swallowed every pulse, milking him through it, humming softly in satisfaction until he was spent and shaking.
You pulled away gently to get up, then drew him into a slow, deep kiss, letting him taste himself.
“I love you” he murmured, in awe “I'll make you scream my name so loud the old men at Headquarters will hear it from here.”
“Motivated much” you whispered.
“Very.”
His mouth crashed against yours, all heat and hunger, and for a moment the missions, the secrets, the shadows of the jujutsu world ceased to exist. There was only the friction of his tongue, the press of his body, the way he consumed your attention completely.
“Say it” he commanded, eyes darkening. “Tell me whose you are. Not the Ataru’s. Not the higher-ups’. Tell me.”
“Yours” you breathed.
Your back arched as his hand found the hem of your skirt, sliding upward with deliberate slowness.
The shift was instantaneous once again. One second you were standing; the next, the air shimmered and you were dropped onto the velvet of the living room sofa.
You landed squarely in his lap, straddling him. The sudden change in orientation made your head swim, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself as you glared at him through the haze of desire.
“Satoru, seriously!” you gasped “Stop—stop doing that!”
“Shh” he murmured, his hands already sliding up the backs of your thighs, pulling you flush against his hard-on. “I just wanted a better angle.”
You huffed, but your hands weren't pushing him away. Instead, you reached for his face, meeting the unfiltered, electric blue of his gaze.
“Fuck my life” you whispered, reaching for the high collar of his jacket.
Your movements frantic, until he groaned and helped you, shrugging out of the heavy fabric and tossing it aside. You followed suit, your own top discarded in a heap, leaving you in nothing but your bra and skirt.
The contact was immediate. Skin on skin, your chest pressed against his broad, muscular torso.
He let out a jagged breath, his head falling back against the cushions as you began to grind against him, a slow, deliberate tilt of your hips that had him gripping your waist
“You’re so hot” he rasped, his voice thick and rough. “I’m not sorry”
You frowned in question, but before you could respond, the world folded again.
The soft velvet was replaced by the cool, cotton of your duvet. You were splayed out among a sea of pillows, the sudden transition making your brain throb.
“Satoru Gojo.” you shout reaching out to shove at his chest as he hovered over you. “Stop it, you’re going to give me a headache!”
Satoru just laughed—a rich, vibrant sound—as he caught your wrists and pinned them above your head once more. Then you felt the Infinity settle over you like a weighted blanket. It was invisible, but absolute. You couldn't move your arms; you couldn't even lift your back off the mattress. You were perfectly, magically pinned to the bed by the very fabric of space.
“Better?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence as he crawled between your legs.
“Satoru, that is such a foul use of your cursed technique” you breathed, your eyes wide as you watched him.
“That’s not what you said the last time I helped you sitting on my face” he countered, his voice a low, honeyed growl. “You seemed to appreciate the stability then, wife.”
The dirty talk was a drug, a heady mix of his arrogance and his utter devotion.
He didn't waste any more time. His hand slid inside your silk panties, his long, clever fingers finding your clit with agonizing precision. You bucked, or tried to, but the Infinity held you fast against the pillows, leaving you completely vulnerable to his touch.
“You’re so responsible” he whispered, his thumb beginning to circle with beautiful precision “So composed. So ‘Mrs. Ataru.’ My fucking god. Does it make me a possessive husband hating them calling you that?”
He reached the center of you, his fingers finding you already slick and aching.
“Those fucking vipers calling you like that on purpose, like it changes anything, like it could change the fact that I sign a paper to be yours for the rest of my life” He kept rambling while you were on an edge
You bucked against the invisible weight of the Infinity, a frustrated whimper breaking from your throat because you couldn't wrap your arms around him, couldn't pull him closer.
He was relentless, his fingers working you into a frenzy while he watched your face with the clinical focus of the Six Eyes. He knew exactly when to speed up, when to slow down, and when to pause just long enough to make you whimper for more.
“Satoru, please,” you gasped, your head thrashing against the pillows “The Infinity... let me touch you. I need to touch you.”
Finally, the crushing weight of the Infinity dissipated. The sudden release of pressure made you feel like you were floating. You immediately threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss that tasted of desperation and salt.
“I want you,” you finally choked out “Inside me. Now.”
“Bossy tonight, aren’t we?” he teased, but there was no hesitation in his movements.
His fingers withdrew from you slowly, deliberately, leaving you clenching around nothing and gasping at the loss. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs with a reverence that belied the fire in his eyes, then your skirt. You kicked them off impatiently
Satoru shed the rest of his clothes in a blur. He was a vision above you, all lean muscle and pale skin glowing under the dim light filtering through the curtains, his cock hard and heavy again, curving up toward his abs.
“God, look at you,” he murmured, positioning himself between your thighs, one hand bracing on the mattress beside your head while the other guided himself to your entrance. The tip nudged against your slick folds, teasing, coating himself in your arousal. “So wet for me already. You need this as bad as I do, huh? My perfect wife, all spread out and begging.”
You nodded frantically, hands roaming his back, nails digging into the taut muscles there. “Satoru, please—”
He didn’t make you wait. With a slow, controlled thrust, he pushed inside you, inch by agonizing inch, stretching you in that familiar, delicious way that made stars burst behind your eyelids. A low groan rumbled from his chest as he bottomed out, buried to the hilt, his forehead dropping to yours. “Fuck—so fucking tight. All mine”
The fullness was overwhelming, your walls fluttering around him as you adjusted, hips lifting instinctively to take him deeper. He stayed still for a heartbeat, letting you both savor the connection, his breath hot against your neck. Then he started to move—slow at first, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in with a deliberate roll of his hips that hit every sensitive spot inside you.
“Yes—oh god” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer, urging him on. The rhythm built quickly, his thrusts turning harder, faster, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room alongside your shared gasps and curses.
He captured your mouth in a messy kiss, swallowing your cries as he angled his hips just right, grinding against your clit with each drive forward.
“That’s it,” he growled against your lips, voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Take it all. Scream for me, sweetheart. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
The pleasure coiled tight in your core, building with every powerful snap of his hips, his hands roaming—gripping your thigh, pinching a nipple through your bra until you arched off the bed. He was relentless, pounding into you with that inhuman stamina, whispering filthy praises between kisses: “So good… clenching around me like you never want me to leave. Gonna fill you up, mark you inside and out. You’re everything, my wife, my world.”
Your climax hit like a tidal wave, crashing over you as you shattered around him, walls pulsing and pulling him deeper. “Satoru—fuck, I’m coming!”
He followed right after, thrusting erratically as he spilled inside you with a guttural moan, his body trembling above yours. For a long moment, the world was just the two of you—panting, tangled, utterly spent.
Finally, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms with a satisfied hum.
“I love you,” he finally said, turning to look at you. “So—” a kiss, “fucking—” another kiss, “much.”
When you finally parted, his stomach gave a quiet rumble.
You laughed softly. “Come on, husband. Let’s cook dinner together. I’m thinking something simple—pasta, maybe? You can chop the garlic and I’ll handle the sauce. Normal couple stuff after saving each other from bureaucracy.”
Satoru’s grin was bright and boyish, the feral edge gone, replaced by pure, uncomplicated affection.
“Yeah,” he said lightly, thumb brushing warm circles against your hip. “Normal sounds perfect right now.”
He stood and lifted you with ease, arms sliding around your waist as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck.
“As long as I get to kiss you between every stir of the pot.”
“Deal” you murmured against his jaw
“And bend you and fuck you over the kitchen counter,” he added, lips ghosting your ear, grin unmistakable.
You huffed a laugh, poking his ribs.
“Not everyone has your stamina, Toru, y’know?”
He laughed, unabashed, and carried you down the hall toward the bathroom instead.
“Fine. Shower first,” he conceded. “Then food. Then we’ll see.”
Warm water, soap, shared space—enough to rinse the day off both of you. By the time you made it to the kitchen, wrapped in clean clothes and lingering touches, the heaviness was gone.
You’d done what you set out to do. He was calm again.
The elders, the reviews, the politics—they could wait.
Tonight was just dinner, quiet conversation, and the comfort of being together like this.
You woke to warmth pressed along your back and a lazy arm draped across your waist, heavy with sleep. Satoru’s breathing was slow and even, his face buried against the back of your shoulder. It was strange, how quickly your body had learned the geography of him. The weight, the heat, the way his presence filled a room even when he was unconscious.
You let yourself enjoy it for exactly three more seconds before the phone buzzed on the nightstand.
He groaned. A deeply offended groan that vibrated against your shoulder. Your lips twitched.
“Don’t” he mumbled into your skin, voice rough with sleep and threaded with that possessive edge that had quietly become your new normal.
“I didn’t do anything” you whispered back, barely moving.
“You’re thinking about moving” he accused, tightening his arm around your waist in sleepy protest.
A soft laugh slipped out of you “It’s probably important, Satoru”
He sighed, a long, dramatic exhale, then tightened his arm around your waist in silent protest as you reached for your phone. You turned the screen toward you. The message header alone told you everything you needed to know. Cold in the way only institutional language could be.
You set the phone down carefully. “They scheduled the reassessment”
Silence stretched long enough to become an answer. You rolled onto your back, staring at him, white hair falling messily into his eyes. Without the blindfold, the Six Eyes were striking and currently clouded with a dark, simmering irritation.
“When?” he asked.
“Tomorrow”
He nodded slowly. No surprise. His hand lifted to your face, fingertips tracing the line of your jaw with a tenderness that felt like a promise. He leaned in to kiss you, slow and unhurried, brushing his nose against yours before speaking.
“I’ll go with you” he said, the words leaving his mouth like a decision already made.
“No,” you said softly, catching his hand and interlacing your fingers with his. “If you walk in there, it stops being an evaluation and starts being a confrontation. Let me handle the bureaucracy. I’m an Ataru, Satoru. We’ve been navigating their nonsense for a long time.”
“They can schedule all the meetings they want” He leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder, moving his hand to firmly grip your hip. “Doesn’t change anything.”
Your fingers traced idle circles along his wrist, feeling the steady pulse beneath your thumb.
“It changes paperwork” you said quietly
He huffed a soft laugh, the sound warm against your collarbone “God, you sound like Nanami”
“That’s because Nanami is usually right”
“Debatable” he muttered, lifting his head to look at you again.
You smiled faintly, but the expression didn’t fully settle. He felt the shift immediately. Of course he did. Satoru always noticed when your thoughts drifted somewhere he couldn’t follow.
His hand slid up your back, slow and absent-minded, grounding. “You’re spiraling”
You nudged his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will.” His thumb brushed the curve of your waist. A pause. “That’s not the part I don’t like.”
You didn’t ask what part he didn’t like. You already knew the answer: people who felt braver when he wasn’t physically present.
You pushed yourself up onto one elbow, looking down at him. “You’re not coming”
His jaw flexed once. A tiny tell most people would miss.
“No.” you repeated. Because if he walked into that room, it would stop being an evaluation and start being a war. Because this meeting only worked if he wasn’t there, and because the elders were cautious, not stupid.
You brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. “I can handle a room full of old men asking invasive questions.”
“I know.” he murmured, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing slowly along your hairline. “But you have this look,” he added quietly. “Like you’ve already decided how something ends and you’re not telling me the script.”
Your heart stuttered. For a split second, your breath caught in your throat, sharp and guilty. Forcing yourself to stay normal, you smiled
“You’re imagining things,” you said lightly, brushing your nose against his “I’m just confident”
His eyes narrowed a fraction, then his shoulders loosened just a little. Not convinced, but willing to let it go.
“Fine” he muttered. And you kissed him before he could change his mind.
—
The room at headquarters smelled faintly of polished wood.
The elders sat in a circle behind a screen, never showing their faces. Just silhouettes behind thin paper, voices without bodies. Observing. Measuring.
A single chair waited in the center of the floor. You stepped forward and sat, hands folded neatly in your lap, back straight. You felt the weight of their gaze, a judgmental pressure meant to find the cracks in your composure.
“Thank you for attending” one of them said “This reassessment is standard procedure following significant changes in a sorcerer’s status”
They meant marriage. Your marriage specifically.
“Of course” you replied
“We will begin with a discussion of amplification output”
The questions came slowly. Methodically. Had your amplification changed since the marriage? Did proximity influence output? Did emotional connection alter efficiency? Had there been any unexpected fluctuations? Each question peeled back another layer of pretense until the real one sat quietly at the center of the table.
Had marrying him made you more dangerous?
You answered carefully, explaining the mechanics of your technique. Precisely. Honestly enough to satisfy the letter of the question without feeding the hunger behind it.
Paper shifted softly behind the screen.
“Let us address loyalty” another elder said “Where do your priorities lie?”
“With Jujutsu Society”
“And your husband?”
“He is part of Jujutsu Society”
Silence stretched. You could feel the weight of their attention pressing down, heavy. Then one of them spoke, voice firmer than the others.
“The upper limit of power has shifted. An amplifier has married the strongest sorcerer alive. A man who requires no amplification to stand at the apex of modern jujutsu.”
You knew being an amplifier wasn’t the only problem they had. It was being an Ataru. A lineage tied to power that had never sat comfortably within the system.
You didn’t comment.
“Do you understand the implications of this union?”
“I do”
“Do you understand why it requires careful monitoring?”
“I understand”
Another pause followed. Then you heard a folder opening.
“One final area of clarification.”
You stilled, waiting.
“When acting in an amplification role,” the elder said, his tone clinical “your output requires sustained focus and proximity to the sorcerer you are amplifying”
“Yes, it’s necessary”
“During that time, your independent combat capability is reduced”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement waiting to be confirmed.
“It becomes secondary” you said calmly
“And in a multi-variable scenario,” the voice continued “where maintaining amplification directly increases the survival probability of civilians, but places you at elevated personal risk—”
The pause stretched just long enough to become intentional.
“—how would you prioritize?”
There it was.
Clean. Professional. Impossible to object to.
“Civilian safety takes priority.” you said without hesitation
“If maintaining amplification were the determining factor in mission success?”
“Yes”
“If disengaging would improve your personal safety but reduce the primary sorcerer’s operational output?”
“Yes.”
A folder closed with a quiet, decisive sound.
“That will be sufficient.”
And just like that, the meeting ended.
You stood, smoothing your hands over your uniform out of habit, and walked toward the exit without looking back.
The questions replayed in your head as you pushed the doors open, and your upcoming mission with Nanami surfaced immediately after. Routine support assignment.
Your jaw tightened.
They didn’t need you to fail this evaluation. They just needed confirmation of how you would behave in the field.
You would keep amplifying. You would prioritize civilians. You would accept personal risk if it meant mission success. Exactly what an amplifier was supposed to do.
Your shoulders straightened as you started down the steps.
You were walking into a trap with eyes wide open. At least, that had to count for something.
You could tell Satoru. You could call your family.
But suspicion wasn’t proof. And in the world of jujutsu politics, accusations without proof didn’t protect you — they escalated everything.
They would deny it. Satoru would push back. And the fragile balance you’d been trying to preserve since the wedding would crack straight down the middle.
No.
You exhaled slowly and stepped into the sunlight.
For now, silence was the only move that didn’t make things worse.
—
The office was quiet except for the faint rustle of papers and the distant noise of training outside. Your pen hovered uselessly above the report as your gaze drifted out the window, unfocused.
Suddenly, a warm breath brushed your ear.
“My wife is so distracted she didn’t notice a presence right behind her”
You jolted in your chair with a small gasp, nearly dropping the pen. Satoru laughed immediately, bright and unapologetic.
“You scared me!”
“That was the point baby”
Before you could recover, he grabbed the back of your chair and spun it fully toward him. Your protest never made it out. His hand cupped your jaw and he leaned down, kissing you slow and warm and entirely inappropriate for a workday.
When he pulled back, his mouth lingered close enough that you could still feel the ghost of the kiss.
“I’d love to fuck you in this office right now”
You bit your lip, heat blooming in your cheeks despite yourself. “You’re impossible”
His grin widened “You wouldn’t object”
A tiny pause. Then you exhaled, honest and helpless. “No… I really wouldn’t.”
“Mm.” His thumb brushed your lower lip once, satisfied. “Noted.”
Then the playful smirk softened
“So,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear before stepping back, “how was the reassessment?”
“Predictable. A lot of questions about amplification output and loyalty. They didn’t get anything new out of me” you said, offering a reassuring smile. “It was just procedure”
His gaze searched your face for a beat longer than necessary, like he was trying to read the margins of what you weren’t saying. Then he nodded slowly, accepting the answer even if he didn’t love the subject.
“I actually came to tell you something,” he said. “I’m leaving in two days. International assignment. Big cluster of curses getting messy. They want it handled fast.”
The words landed heavier than they should have.
Two days.
The same day.
Your fingers curled slightly in your lap before you forced them to relax.
He tilted his head, watching you carefully. “You’ll be on that support mission while I’m gone, right?”
You nodded. “Routine assignment” you said again, but this time the guilt hit harder.
“Good” He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead — soft, grounding. “If you need anything, call Ijichi. Or me. Doesn’t matter where I am. You know that, right?”
You nodded again.
“Okay, I should get going before Megumi starts throwing rabbits at me for being late,” he added quickly. He kissed your neck, then your cheek, and finally your lips, punctuating each one with a soft muah, completely oblivious to the faint crease forming between your brows. “Love you. See you at home.”
You managed to whisper an “I love you” before he disappeared, your hand still half-raised in the air where it had instinctively reached for him.
And just like that, the last pieces slid into place.
You were in the middle of making coffee when you heard the kitchen door slide open behind you. Strong arms wrapped around your waist before you could turn.
“I don’t wanna go”
You smiled softly at the childish honesty in his voice, leaning back into him.
“You say that every time”
“I mean it every time” He whispered, his face buried into your neck, warm breath ghosting over your skin as his grip tightened.
His hips pressed closer and you froze for half a second before letting out a quiet laugh.
“Babe…”
“Sorry” he said simply, and you felt his smile on your shoulder
“Mm”
“I’m going to miss you.”
Your chest squeezed at the softness in his voice, but the thought dissolved the moment his lips dragged slowly along your neck and his hand slid up your arm, nudging the robe off one shoulder. Cool air brushed your skin at the same time his mouth did.
A quiet sound escaped you before you could stop it, your back arching instinctively into him.
“It’s just two days, Toru”
“Don’t you know how obsessed I am with you?” he murmured against your skin “I miss you every second we’re apart”
“You’re such a romantic husband” You smiled and reached for the whipped cream to finish your coffee, only for the can to disappear from your hand halfway through the movement.
Turning your head, you caught the look on his face.
Absolutely shameless.
Then cold sweetness touched one of your nipples and your eyes widened
“Are you serious?!”
He didn’t answer. Instead his hand slid to your jaw, tilting your head back as his mouth captured yours, slow and deep and distracting enough to steal the rest of your protest.
By the time the kiss broke, your thoughts were thoroughly scrambled. A small whimper slipped out when he pressed you forward against the counter again.
He turned you in one smooth motion, his hands settling firmly at your waist. The next thing you knew, the marble of the kitchen island met the backs of your thighs as he lifted you onto it effortlessly.
The robe fell completely open and for a moment, he simply looked at you.
His gaze traveled slowly downward, lingering on the whipped cream spread across your breasts, and something hungry flashed behind those impossibly bright eyes.
“You’re so beautiful” he breathed, already sounding slightly hoarse.
Then, he leaned down and dragged his tongue slowly over one nipple, licking the sweet cream off with a low, filthy groan. His large hands cupped and kneaded your tits, smearing the whipped cream as he sucked and licked greedily, switching between them like he couldn’t get enough.
You moaned, fingers threading through his messy white hair, back arching into his mouth. The mix of cold cream and his hot tongue made your head spin.
He spent long minutes worshipping your tits — sucking, biting gently, pinching your nipples until they were swollen and sensitive — before he dropped lower.
In one fluid movement he hooked your legs over his shoulders, dragged your hips to the edge of the island, and buried his face between your thighs.
“Fuck—” he groaned against your pussy, the sound vibrating through you. The first broad stroke of his tongue had your head falling back, a broken moan tearing free.
He ate you like a man on the verge of starvation. Messy and eager licks followed by focused suction on your clit, his tongue fucking into you in shallow thrusts that made your hips rock helplessly.
“Toru— oh god—”
Unable to hold back, you gripped his hair tighter and started grinding against his face, riding his tongue desperately. Satoru moaned loudly in approval, the sound muffled between your thighs as he let you use him.
“That’s it, baby” he growled against your soaked folds, while his hands gripped your ass, pulling you down harder, encouraging you “Ride my face. Fuck— use me.”
“—fuck, Toru. I’m so close already”
You rocked your hips faster, grinding against his tongue and nose while his hands squeezed your thighs. The pleasure built fast and brutal until it crashed over you. You came hard with a broken cry of his name, thighs clamping around his head as waves of pleasure tore through you.
He kept licking you through it, greedy and unrelenting, until your legs were trembling.
You were still panting when he stood up, eyes wild. He freed his cock — hard, flushed, and leaking — and pulled you forward on the counter.
In one slow deep thrust he buried himself inside you, groaning at the tight heat.
“God… so good,” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours.
He fucked you hard and deep, one hand still kneading your sticky breast while the other gripped your hip. The kitchen filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping skin and your shared moans.
When he was close, he buried his face in your neck.
“I love you” he groaned, voice breaking.
With a few final, powerful thrusts, he came deep inside you, filling you with thick, warm spurts. He stayed buried to the hilt, arms wrapped tightly around you as he rode out his orgasm, kissing your neck and jaw with surprising tenderness.
The shower afterward was quiet. Steam curled around the glass walls while warm water ran over both of you, washing away whipped cream, sweat, and the lingering haze of pleasure that still clung heavily to your body. Satoru stood behind you beneath the spray, one arm wrapped loosely around your waist as his fingers brushed damp hair away from your neck.
His lips brushed your shoulder once.
“You okay?” he murmured.
You nodded automatically, leaning your head back against his chest. “Yeah.”
His fingers traced idle patterns against your skin, grounding and affectionate and painfully familiar.
When you finally stepped out, the apartment felt colder. You sat on the edge of the bed wrapped in one of his shirts while he got dressed across the room, movements efficient now, blindfold folded carefully between his fingers before slipping into place.
You watched him quietly.
There was something surreal about it—the contrast between the man who had just been on his knees between your thighs in the kitchen and the strongest sorcerer alive adjusting his cuffs like he was preparing for another ordinary workday.
A faint smile tugged at your mouth, but it faded quickly.
The last thing he put on was his coat. Then he crossed the room toward you in slow steps until he stood in front of you
“Hey,” he said softly, tilting your chin up so you’d look at him properly. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone.”
Your chest tightened painfully, guilty again, but you forced a small smile anyway.
“Always.”
He leaned down and kissed you slowly. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours.
“I’ll be home before you know it.”
The words were meant to reassure. Instead, something uncomfortable shifted in your chest.
You hated that. Hated the guilt. Hated the instinctive urge to tell him everything.
But it was too late now. The decision had already been made.
“Go before you get fired,” you teased
He huffed a laugh.
“Impossible. They need me too much.”
“There he is.”
“See? You already miss me.”
You shoved at his shoulder.
He caught your wrist, pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and finally stepped away.
The apartment felt quieter almost immediately after the door closed behind him. You remained where you were for a few moments, staring at nothing in particular until your gaze drifted toward the clock.
Nanami would be arriving soon.
reblogs are always appreciated!! <3
-> next part
masterlist
synopsis: you never meant to get in the middle of a marriage. but when you're caught between your beautiful best friend and the king she was forced to wed, you find your position as a maid-turned-concubine particularly challenging - especially when he begins demanding an heir from one of you. can gojo keep you all to herself? or will everything else keep getting in the way?
pairing: queen!gojo x concubine!reader (x king!geto)
wc: 20.7k
content: mdni. angst + smut, medieval setting, FEM!JO!!!, YURI YURI YURI!!!, lots of yearning and pining, intense jealousy, loathing, childhood crushes, gojo is obsessed, yandere!femjo tbh, piv sex, character death, trauma, reader is suffering, heavy angst, fear of being abandoned, cold and conniving gojo, but she's also a sweet puppy for her girl, they want each other so bad, humiliation, wrongful imprisonment, unbalanced power dynamics, master/maid relationship, use of nicknames (princess, angel), geto slander lmfao, confessions, kissing, oral sex (f! recieving), fingering, blindfolds and restraints, 69, multiple positions, happy ending
a/n: this was a commission for my incredibly lovely angel @cantarcantar + the art above is from the super talented @anniewinniie and the div is by @/tsumiinum
“Fuck, Suguru, you’re so-”
As much as Satoru enjoyed hearing your pretty little pants and moans, she was rather sick of hearing you whine his name instead of hers.
But of course, even if she was the queen, what could she do when you were her husband’s concubine?
“Someone’s going to hear you, pretty,” he wryly replied, and she could practically hear the smirk in his honeyed voice, syrupy sweet just for you.
Blegh.
She held in her gag, grimacing at his deep grunt.
Satoru parted the thick vines concealing your not-so-secret garden hideaway. Tucked behind flowering bushes, forget-me-not covered trellises, a blanket was spread out on the green grass of your hidden nook as Suguru fucked you right there, your dress bunched up above your hips as he greedily plunged his ridiculously oversized cock inside you.
Where was the patience?
The preparation?
Treating you like a princess rather than rutting into you like some ruthless animal?
Satoru felt her mouth twitch down, heart freezing as she found herself slipping through the gap in the trellises, forcing herself to slyly smile as she interrupted the scene.
“Suguru,” she called out, keeping her voice airy and calm as she condescendingly looked down at your bodies tangled together. Containing the cold anger that had sunk its claws into her heart as she cleared her throat, sucking in a slow breath, “Your advisor is looking for you.”
Her husband threw an annoyed look over his shoulder, dark bangs falling in his face as his soft purple eyes hardened into a scowl.
“He can wait,” he grimaced, as if to say, so can you.
But Satoru could be just as stubborn.
“I heard it’s about a rather important matter,” she lied, shrugging her shoulders as the skirt of her finely embroidered dress swung and shifted by her feet.
“I will be finished in just a-”
“We can always continue when you return,” you reassured him, brushing his bangs back out of his face and biting down on your glossy bottom lip.
You knew your place.
Content to be that knave’s concubine, free for him to use whenever he pleased. Unbothered no matter how many times he expected you to wait and adhere to his whims when he should be doing his damndest to make your every wish come true.
Satoru despised it. Detested the infuriating way her husband took and wasted every ounce of your attention.
You were her best friend first.
“Fine,” Suguru hissed, hesitantly pulling out of you but not before throwing Satoru a heated glare.
“I can keep your concubine company,” she smiled, blue eyes sparkling with satisfaction as Suguru unceremoniously shoved his cock back inside his pants, storming past her to go off and search for an advisor who was likely already tucked into his bed.
He would just come back for you once he figured it out.
But by then, Satoru was sure she could kill the mood enough that he wouldn’t get to have you tonight.
Not without her in the room.
“I’m sorry,” you softly apologized once he was gone, hastily pulling your dress down, embarrassed that she’d seen you so exposed.
As if it wasn’t the first time.
She was well aware of her husband’s preference for you to not wear any undergarments when he was planning on seeing you. Had walked in on the two of you in their marital bed more times than she could count.
At first, she thought it was better you than her.
Held no interest in having sex with him herself or making any heirs, no matter how much the court tried to convince her that it was necessary.
Why would she ruin her body for a man she could barely stand? Who she was forced into a political marriage with?
Lately?
She was growing tempted to just take her clothes off and offer herself up if it meant Suguru would go a single day without insisting on having sex with you. Even if she’d be resisting the urge to gag and roll her eyes at every one of his groans.
“I’ll return to my chambers, Your Majesty,” you respectfully murmured, averting your gaze with faint shame creeping into your fair features. You were trying to not make this strange or strained, smoothing out your dress as you pushed your palms off the blanket.
“How many times must I ask you to call me Toru, hm?” She teased, breaking the tension with an easy laugh.
It used to be breezy to be around you.
Before he snatched you from her grip.
Back when you were both girls growing up together, as a princess and her maid. Your delicate hands brushing her hair and working all the knots out with nimble fingers at the end of every day, chatting about the scullery gossip before Satoru would pull you into the blankets and demand that you sleep next to her.
To keep the nightmares away.
Everyone always let Satoru do what she wanted.
Except for having you.
Sure, she could drag you around, take you everywhere she went, but instead of simply being hers, you were more of an accessory.
The most you could be was a maid. A servant.
Not a lover.
Satoru tried to be content with that. Truly.
Accepted it from an early age that you weren’t going to be hers when she was destined for a political relationship and your stare often lingered a little too long on knights instead of ladies.
She told herself that at least she got to bring you along to this palace to be by her side for this marriage, but the moment Suguru saw you standing next to her, he stole you.
Made you his concubine within the week, put you in your own room and dolled you up in gowns and gems. Satoru had been sneaking blue dresses in your new closet, replacing the jewel tones and purples with the shades of the sky, of the ocean rather than the rich hues he had such a proclivity for.
But it didn’t make much of a difference when you were tending to him now instead of her.
“Toru,” you said her name so sweetly, chewing the inside of your cheek now as you reluctantly met her stare. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“You are not the one who should apologize,” she exhaled, shrugging her shoulders as she walked over to where you were sheepishly staring at the blooming flowers.
Skimming a delicate hand over your arm, appreciating the warmth of your skin as she stopped just shy of your shoulder, tracing a little heart with the edge of her thumb as she soothed you.
“Come with me,” she murmured.
Your head snapped up, your eyes wavering and wide. Unsure. “Where?”
“My room,” Satoru hummed. “Like old times.”
Back when the only hands that ever had the fortune to brush over your body were hers. When you belonged solely to Satoru.
Funnily enough, you were still sleeping in her bed. Just with her husband.
What would she have to do to keep his calloused palms off her prize?
“Are you sure Suguru will be-”
“No man would complain about two beautiful women in his sheets,” she rolled her eyes, interlocking arms with you and pulling you forward.
It wasn’t exactly true.
Suguru would have plenty to grit his teeth and groan about when he wouldn’t get the chance to put his dick inside of you.
But you were naive enough to not realize that, smiling back at Satoru the way you used to, leaning against her arm and sighing with relief, relaxing once it struck you that she wasn’t upset with you.
“I’m not nearly as beautiful as you,” you wistfully mumbled under your breath, and Satoru’s heart soared. Pale cheeks heating up at your compliment, squeezing you reflexively as she laughed.
She knew she was beautiful. Blessed by the gods in nearly every aspect from the moment she was born.
But even when they had given her a face any male would love, they had cursed her with a heart that could only belong to a female.
To you.
Had been stamped with your name and sealed to be yours from the first day she found you.
It wasn’t fucking fair that Suguru got to just reap everything she sowed.
Got to be the one inside you, on top of you, beside you. Who could just openly want you with no repercussions.
If his smug smirks and sly remarks weren’t enough for her to loathe him, Satoru still would have hated him for that fact alone.
“I think you are far lovelier than any of these lousy flowers,” Satoru spoke softly, tilting her head around the garden she’d grown to only feel disgust for too.
It had been beautiful at first. A work of art she’d taken to walking the winding paths through in the evenings to calm her chaotic mind when the two of you first came here.
But all it had taken was to walk in on Suguru mounting you on a patio table the third week in for every last petal and blossom of this place to become tainted.
He was making a fucking fool of her.
Freely flaunting how much he adored fucking you wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
No doubt she wasn’t the first to catch the two of you.
“You flatter me,” you blushed, turning away from her as you picked up the pace.
You already knew the way back to her marital room.
Even if she wasn’t the one you usually came there for.
Satoru had separate chambers, of course, ones that were made solely for her, but she knew that Suguru would retaliate in some petty fashion if she brought you there instead.
“I am merely being honest,” Satoru hummed, lips curling up in an easy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She knew you well enough to know you were too embarrassed to respond. That you weren’t truly taking her seriously.
Shouldn’t you know by now that the only person she saved her sincerity for was you?
“I find myself missing you more and more,” Satoru slowly added, heart thumping so hard she was sure it would somehow end up lodged in her throat as you looked back at her with those big, apologetic eyes.
Guilt-ridden.
Weighed down by the obvious worry you carried for fucking her husband.
“I miss you too,” you murmured quietly, lip curling up in your best attempt at a smile before it immediately fell again.
“You seem tired,” Satoru observed, reaching over with her free hand to brush the hair away from your face. Treasuring the few seconds her fingertips skimmed across your soft cheeks. “Let’s get some rest.”
“But Suguru-”
“Do me a favor,” she purred, offering her most reassuring grin. “Do not worry about him.”
She could deal with it.
It was worth whatever trouble would come to watch you trade your dress for one of her silky blue nightslips, staring at the bare expanse of your exposed back as you bent over to shimmy it on, holding her breath as you turned around, looking absolutely delectable.
The sweetest dessert she could ever dream of.
And the only one she wasn’t allowed to taste.
“Do you want me to do your hair?” You asked, fiddling with your fingers as you nervously looked around the room.
Satoru wished she could wipe your anxieties away.
“I would never say no to that,” she said instead, putting up a far more carefree front than she truly felt.
Perching on the edge of the stool of her vanity, passing you her hairbrush as you slowly pulled all of her long, silky white strands back over her shoulder. You took your time brushing it out, carefully separating it as you went and making sure there were no tangles before you slowly began to braid it, nimble fingers working to twist the parted hair.
She could see your reflection in the mirror, the way you bit your kiss-swollen bottom lip, brows pinched together tightly in focus as your practiced hands made an easy job of it.
“There you go,” you hummed once you finished, tying a white ribbon at the end as you looked in the mirror back at her. “Do you like it?”
“I like everything you do,” Satoru replied on instinct.
Except for Suguru.
Your face flushed, smiling as you stepped back away from her, glancing over to the bed.
“Good night then,” you muttered.
“Good night,” Satoru replied, shoving down the lump in her throat as she tried to discreetly dry her clammy palms on her own nightdress as she stood up. Snuffing out a few of the candles so that the only light was from the flickering fire, crawling into bed after you, pretending to be unaffected by your proximity as she got under the sheets next to your body.
But she wasn’t quite as good at it as she used to be.
Unable to slow her breathing, chest rising and falling far too fast as you tossed and turned, the short hem of the slip riding up on your thighs under the covers as Satoru desperately stared at the ceiling of her four-poster bed and ignored the heat ignited in her core.
A steady pulse, an irritating throb straight to the center of her, speeding up each time your leg brushed against hers, or your hand accidentally grazed along her arm.
“Sweet dreams,” she belatedly whispered, but you had already fallen asleep, soon snoring on one of her pillows like you once did so long ago, hair sprawling out that Satoru couldn’t stop herself from softly stroking.
Her pretty maid, right where she belonged once more.
But for how long?
When would Suguru do something that would fully free you of her?
God, what the fuck was she going to do if he knocked you up? Forced you to bear his heir? Make you raise a whole brood of miniature hims?
That asshole would surely move you to a separate palace, maybe claim that Satoru made threats or something equally absurd to justify giving you a title or some security.
Satoru refused to let any of that happen.
You were more than just a breeding mare.
More than just a pawn to be played with – no matter what her husband attempted to turn you into.
Like she summoned a demon, the door swung open, and Satoru immediately removed her hand from by your head, sitting up in bed to stare at the intruder.
The real interloper here.
Suguru scowled at the sight of her next to you, his lips pressing in a thin line as he peeled off his expensive robe.
“Return to your private chambers,” he dismissed, irritation heavy in his voice.
“This marital bed is mine too,” Satoru retorted, patting the spot next to her to gesture for him to join.
She’d prefer not to spend the night suffering the masculine scent of his cologne, but she supposed she could just roll closer to you to inhale your much sweeter smell. It was always light, flowery, like some intoxicating summer bloom she wanted to pluck and preserve.
He laughed at the idea of sleeping together too, a low and cruel one.
Satoru wanted to snarl back that if she were a man, if they were both vying for your hand, you would have chosen her without a blink.
But she just had to bite her tongue and stare at the one person who had everything she wanted.
“Funny that I only find you in here when it’s with her,” he knowingly scoffed.
“Is it?” Satoru feigned ignorance. “I was the one who brought her here.”
Her husband didn’t care though.
No, he just walked over as if she had no place in this room, no right to her spot in the bed beside you, stripping his shirt off before removing his pants, as if a little bit of nudity would scare Satoru off.
“What do you think our love would do if she knew you lusted after her even more than I do?” Suguru mocked, barely making an effort to disguise his thinly-veiled threat. One corner of that irritating mouth of his curling up in a crude smirk, casually dismissing the weight of her affection for you to a simple sin.
His love?
Satoru almost laughed back at him.
You were hers. Had always been.
And would be once again.
“Shall I tell her?” He asked, tilting his head towards your sleeping figure as he pulled back the blankets to get in too.
“She would think it’s just a jest,” Satoru rolled her eyes, her nose scrunching up as he actually got in next to her.
It didn’t matter how obvious she made it to you.
You were blissfully unaware.
Clueless to the hunger she harbored in her heart to chain you to her.
“I suppose we’ll find out soon,” he muttered under his breath, and despite the shield she’d prepared, it splintered with sheer panic at the thought of you taking his word.
At the risk of you being repulsed by the realization, rejecting her and refusing to exist in the same space for the rest of her life.
That wouldn’t do.
Suguru was already a persistent problem.
But now it appeared she had no choice but to solve it before he could screw her over. Before he could wreck what she’d spent so long building.
She’d prefer to prepare a guillotine for his cock, to punish him for the crime of being inside you, but she refused to be the one put in prison for it.
No, Satoru needed a plan. A foolproof way for this to end with you in her arms.
Perhaps some poison to put His Royal Majesty in a grave while she was at it.
ε✿з
“Morning, beautiful.”
You wondered who your king’s groggy morning voice was meant for. You?
Or his wife?
Your true master.
“Good morning, husband,” Satoru replied, her usually sweet voice cold and clipped.
Of course.
You weren’t exactly surprised.
But what did throw you off was the two very different arms strewn across your waist, one thick and muscled slung low towards your hips while the other far daintier one was delicately tangled just below your breasts.
Somehow, you had ended up in between them.
Rather fitting, wasn’t it?
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Suguru scolded her, and your stomach just curdled at the annoyance in his tone.
The weight on your midsection disappeared, and you tried to roll on your side, to pretend you were still asleep, but then he was pulling you against him, and you could only bite the inside of your cheek and focus on the taste of blood on your tongue to hold it together as something hefty and hard pressed into your spine.
It was just wrong to do this in front of Satoru.
You didn’t understand what Suguru saw in you anyway.
It wasn’t like you truly were stunning. Not compared to her.
You weren’t blind.
You’d always been rather plain put next to Satoru’s perfect face.
She was the one people stopped to stare at when she walked in a room, the subject of whispers and wishes and fools willing fate to just give them a single chance for the pleasure of one conversation in her presence.
And beneath her beauty was the sort of one-of-a-kind soul someone could spend the rest of their life searching for.
Even now, when you were sleeping with her husband, she was still being sweet to you.
Swearing that she knew you couldn’t do anything about being his concubine, bringing you back to her bed for a sleepover like she hadn’t caught you having sex with him.
You didn’t deserve her. And you really couldn’t comprehend why Suguru wouldn’t want her.
Yet, she always tried to spare your feelings.
Sent away any maid who mocked you and scolded any staff member that attempted to tease you ever since you were children.
Going from dismissing any knight that tried to flirt or feel you up as teenagers to stripping some lower noble of her rank simply for speaking ill of you two weeks ago over suggesting that she should punish you for trying to steal her husband.
You hadn’t asked for any of it.
All you wanted was to watch her fall in love. To stand by her side and see her find her happily ever after.
Instead, you were embroiled in an affair with the man she married.
And now the guilt was gnawing through your bones, shame shattering you every time she saw you with him.
You sort of felt like your life could be divided in two groups.
Before Satoru. After Satoru.
She saved you. You were born into servitude, to parents who worked in the worst kind of noble homes. The ones where the money was passed down with generations, belonging to spoiled gamblers and drunks who didn’t know how to do anything other than spend it — and couldn’t care less about their staff members.
You learned how to scrub baseboards and sweep instead of how to read and write. To never speak unless spoken to. To make yourself smaller than a speck of dust just to survive.
It didn’t matter.
They had a son a year older than you.
One that was particularly fond of pulling your hair and ripping up your uniforms every time you hung them out to dry.
Who found a passion in pushing you down and pretending to his family that you had committed every variety of petty crimes against him.
Your life was a living hell.
Until your angel showed up.
In a pretty white dress that matched her soft hair, the sun shining on her pale face as she blinked down at you with big, blue eyes. She was visiting with her parents, supposed to be attending a play date with your personal tormentor, only to walk in on him attempting to cut off a chunk of your hair with a knife he’d stolen from the chef.
He had accidentally cut you with it, a thin streak of blood trickling down your throat as you sobbed hysterically, unable to stop yourself as you curled up against the tree he cornered you against.
“Drop that,” she commanded, an air of authority to her even when she was still a child.
He did, even though his obedience seemed to surprise him.
“You’re not the boss of-”
She was already stepping forward though, kicking the knife away before graciously approaching you, unbothered by the sniffing mess you’d become, just squatting down and drying your tears with her sleeve.
“You’re coming home with me.”
And you did.
She had half-dragged you inside, forcing herself to fake tears of her own before crying to her parents that he had attacked her, and that you’d gotten hurt defending her.
They believed her lie.
And she bought you from the hellhole you were born into.
You would probably be dead without her.
Starved or beaten for not performing your duties well enough, discarded like some cheap possession instead of a person.
The boy was punished, his family’s status revoked — although you never learned what happened to them after that.
At least with Satoru, you could be her doll.
Someone she dressed up and dragged around to tea parties and meals, forcing everyone to have a chair for you like it was normal for a mere maid to dine with royalty.
She grew out of it when she got a little older, when people began to look down on you for her behavior instead of her.
But when they announced her marriage, she still refused to go unless she brought you with her, insisting that she wouldn’t adapt without a familiar face before whispering to you in private that she’d never leave her favorite friend behind.
Did she regret that now? Wish she never took you in to begin with?
You felt like a nuisance.
It was impossible to ignore the whispers of the court here, the constant discussion of the heir that didn’t currently exist.
All of it felt like your fault.
Surely, if you weren’t here, if you weren’t imposing, then Satoru might have already gotten pregnant, or perhaps have even had a child already.
As far as you knew, they had yet to even consummate their marriage.
You used to whisper about what it would be like to have sex. So sure that she would be the one to experience it first. Giggling under the covers about how the whole thing seemed sorta gross. To let a guy stick it inside of you and listen to him grunt and groan?
Honestly, you never thought it would be you giving up your virtue before her.
Sugugu hadn’t been shy about the fact you were the only one he was intimate with.
Turning his nose up and scoffing when you inquired about the status of their relationship, the same way Satoru did, as if it was simply absurd that they could ever have a baby together.
And now his royal advisors had started whispering suggestions that he should plant his seed in you instead, murmuring that if Satoru was too stubborn, he must secure his line another way as if you weren’t in the same room when they said it.
As if your loyalty hadn’t always lied with her.
But she wouldn’t listen to your warnings.
How were you supposed to convince two people who acted like they couldn’t stand each other to not only have sex, but create a child?
You knew you were a fool. Naive to still presume that there must be some way to make this work without making Satoru suffer. But you couldn’t stop trying.
“I would like you to leave,” Suguru snapped at her, and years of experience had engrained the instant impulse to protect her in you.
To interrupt and insist that she had every right to be here too.
Even if Satoru had never once needed you to defend her. Not the same way you needed her.
“Will you drag me out if I do not?” She cheekily returned, and you finally forced yourself to start to stir, to stop the argument already in progress as they both immediately fell silent. Satoru’s soft hand skimmed over your forearm, delicately dragging her fingertips up to your shoulder before yawning, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Morning,” you muttered, slowly cracking your eyes open and beginning to sit up just for a second hand to shift to the small of your back.
“Did she bother you with all her tossing and turning?” Your king asked, concern veiling his contempt for his wife as he peered down at you with those dark purple eyes. Devoid of the light you were used to seeking, swirling with something you weren’t quite comfortable enough to name.
Sometimes, you wondered how much he wanted you, and how much he wanted to piss her off. Equally unhappy at the situation he’d been thrusted in, forced to marry a stranger he didn’t know or want and finding refuge in pissing off the one person that was also innocent in this. Taking it out on her instead when he had no way to punish the system he was stuck in.
“Satoru never bothers me,” you answered honestly, still doing your best to mend the bridge between them as you peered up at him with an expression you hoped would earn some empathy from him.
Or at the very least, get him to not toss her out before she even stepped foot out of the bed.
“You’re too sweet,” he muttered, sitting up straighter to let the blankets fall down around his bare waist. Tenderly caressing your cheek as you stilled, thinking of what he seemed to leave unsaid. Too sweet for whom? Him? Or her?
You supposed you were just overthinking it, blinking nervously before he leaned down to kiss you on the lips right there in front of her, pushing his tongue in as you tried not to scrunch your nose up at the thought that he had yet to brush his teeth before slipping his tongue in your mouth.
But you returned it, accustomed to going with the tides instead of swimming against them, allowing him to possessively splay his fingers across your back as if Satoru’s fingers weren’t still sinking into your shoulder.
And by the time he pulled away, you had collected yourself enough to smile sincerely back at him when he rested his forehead against yours.
It wasn’t that you disliked him, or harbored any hatred for him.
The feeling swirling in your stomach was closer to pity. You felt bad for him.
He felt like a flip side to Satoru. Reminded you of her in his own strange way when he spoke to you like you were more than just a maid. Even if he only saw you as his own accessory instead of hers.
“Meet me in the gardens at noon,” he instructed, slipping out of his bed as you both stared. His back muscles flexed as he bent over, only throwing a look back to wink at you while Satoru made a quiet gagging noise next to you.
You nearly giggled, only holding it in when his dark brows pinched together in a glare back at her.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” you murmured, nodding dutifully as his chest puffed back out with pride. Finishing redressing quickly, his mouth twitching down at the two of you in his bed, but he didn’t say anything to disprove Satoru’s theory about men and beautiful women.
“Alone,” Suguru added, starting towards the door before Satoru could add something snarky.
The moment he was out the door, you could hear his voice calling through it for a servant, and you already pictured the way a few were likely stationed at the end of the hall, ready to accompany him and do whatever he wanted.
“Meet me in the gardens,” Satoru mimicked him, rolling her bright blue eyes as her long lashes fluttered dramatically as she twisted you back around to face her. “He’s so insufferable.”
“Satoru,” you said her name, face heating up at the way the syllables felt rolling off your tongue, still strange to address her so intimately when she was so far above you. “It worries me-”
“No,” she interrupted you sternly, your shoulders slumping at her unexpected scolding. “There is nothing for you to worry about.”
“But the two of you-”
“I know,” she sympathized, knowing what you were about to protest before you had to say it. Seeing through all of you the way no one else ever did, or probably ever would. “But you should just keep doing what he asks.”
Like you couldn’t see how much it hurt her to even suggest that.
Satoru was more sensitive than she’d ever show. Feelings hidden under her carefully crafted shield, always pretending to be the perfect princess on her towering pedestal, protected by some impenetrable glass that never let you touch her.
She could say she couldn’t stand Suguru. But who wouldn’t be hurt at the man they married so blatantly disrespecting them?
“I just want you to be happy,” you softly said.
“I will be. Eventually,” Satoru stiffly said, dragging her thumb over your bottom lip like she was wiping off his kiss. “We just have to grin and bear it for now.”
“And things will get better?” You hopefully asked, reaching up to clasp her hand. Feeling a little bit like a child again, looking up to her with blind trust, faith that she could fix problems that seemed far too big for you. Imagining all three of you a few months from now, getting along and grinning over lunch in the garden, sitting underneath the shade of an umbrella and snacking with Satoru on one side and Suguru on the other.
“I promise they will.”
There was nothing you craved more than for her to be correct.
But your blind belief in her started to fizzle and fade when the days refused to stop dragging on while you rarely got to see her. Only catching glimpses of her from across the room, usually when one of you was being flaunted on Suguru’s arm and the other was left to stand on the side and stare. Barely getting a chance to speak to her when the king you were both supposed to obey had decided you were better kept in your bed chambers or his private office, away from the wife he pretended didn’t exist around you.
You tried to tell yourself what she had.
To just bear it.
Comforting yourself with the handful of smiles she snuck you, reassuring yourself that you didn’t have to be wracked with guilt every second you spent with Suguru. That you shouldn’t hate yourself for the moments with him where you found yourself actually enjoying his company, or genuinely giggling at a joke he made.
It didn’t make it easier to stop loathing the parts of you that liked the attention. Being doted on and deemed deserving of more than just the monotony of being a maid.
Underneath it all, you still knew what was coming.
A girl like you was only measured by what uses she was good for.
Could taste his expectation in the air long before Suguru delivered the curdling news over tea, sitting there like a brainless doll as he informed you that he had the maids brew the kind that helped fertility.
Casually suggesting that you make a fine mother as you feigned agreement, running off to a bush to throw it up the moment he left to attend to other business.
You couldn’t do that to her.
No, you wouldn’t.
You refused.
It wasn’t like you had any idea how you would refuse, not when you were sure he would be back in your bedroom tonight. Stripping off his robes with that easy smirk of his, placing his crown on your head as he buried his cock in you, probably already planning on no longer pulling out but plunging himself deep enough to make sure the seed he planted was sowed.
That it would sprout into an heir he could use as an excuse to remove any power his wife politically held.
You puked again.
Bile rising that you couldn’t push down, getting sick until you finally managed to suck in enough deep breaths to pull yourself together, wiping the corner of your mouth and standing back up on trembling legs, looking around to make sure no one had seen you.
But a few maids were standing nearby, wide-eyed and whispering to each other before scampering off in a hurry once your stare caught theirs, surely off to spread rumors about what they’d seen.
You were stumbling away too, walking back inside the cobbled halls and hurrying through the twists and turns, ignoring the pointed looks you received from staff members and guards passing by. You weren’t sure where you were going until you were there, nervously tapping your knuckles against the door to Satoru’s office, hardly able to keep your breathing steady until you heard her call out in an annoyed tone, “Come in.”
You pushed it open, holding your breath as you peeked inside to see her head hanging down behind her desk. Her cheek resting on her hand, silky hair falling around her shoulders as she sighed and scribbled something into a thick book.
“What is it-”
“I’m sorry,” you half-whispered, your voice coming out as a croak from your sore throat.
She immediately stopped what she was writing as her head snapped up at the realization it was you, shutting the book and placing her palm over it. Her blue eyes were razor sharp, freezing over in a flash under furrowed brows.
“What happened?” She demanded to know without a pause. Ready to go to war with just two words.
“He wants me to have his heir,” you blurted out, still panicking as you looked to her like there was something she could do about it.
In all the years you’d known her, the only other time you’d seen the expression that was on her face now was the day you first met her.
Focused and flat at the same time, not betraying anything as she just blinked at you once more.
“Tell me you don’t want it,” she requested, completely serious as you struggled to tear your stare away.
“Of course I don’t,” you answered, shaking your head as your fingers nervously clutched at the skirt of your dress, fiddling with some of the fine embroidery as you struggled to catch your breath, the taste of vomit lingering in your mouth as you thought about what your life would look like a year from now if you did. A black-haired baby on your hip and a hole punctured straight through your heart.
You almost added that you had only come here for her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to when all that had resulted in was you warming her husband’s bed.
What would her life have been like had you stayed behind? Would you have been kicked out of the palace you’d spent years by her side in? Left to start over in some quaint village, maybe starting a small farm or working in a local shop instead?
You would choose any of it over being the reason she was suffering. Even if it meant struggling and scraping by all alone.
“I will take care of it,” she stiffly said, her nose upturned in the air as she pushed a plate of cookies someone had left on her desk away from her. “You should go now.”
A piece of you shattered.
Some deep internal wound ripping open at her quick dismissal, despite your instinct to believe that her words were more binding than any oath.
“But-”
“Trust me, princess,” she softened her tone, smiling now, like you couldn’t see how tight of a line her mouth made. Using a nickname she hadn’t called you in years, back when she tried to make you feel better about the difference in your status, late night promises that you could be her princess and she could be yours.
“Toru,” you murmured back, watching her eyes crinkle for a second before she shook her hair and pointed a delicate finger towards the door.
“Please leave,” she asked, and you had never been good at disobeying her.
Feeling like a mutt that had been thrown out in the rain, tail tucked between your legs as you walked all the way across the palace to your own chambers. Pacing the floor there in a panic, wringing your hands and wearing out the carpet as you tried to think of some solution.
Stupid nobles and their moronic obsession with bloodlines.
Why couldn’t they just adopt a child and raise it correctly?
You would have his child if Satoru asked you to. If she said she didn’t want to do it herself.
But you were scared for her. Terrified that she would somehow end up thrown out if you had an heir and she refused to.
Maybe it would be easier if one of them were less stubborn. If Satoru was less prideful and Suguru more agreeable.
Was that asking for the impossible?
Just an idiot jammed between a rock and a hard place and wondering why you couldn’t squeeze out?
You prepared yourself that evening anyway, going through the motions of putting on the thin style nightdress Suguru preferred, but picking one in a soft shade of blue that reminded you more of Satoru. Carefully applying a thin layer of makeup, exhaling at your reflection as you wondered to yourself where the girl from a few years ago had gone.
She probably would have strangled you for suggesting sleeping with Satoru’s king, no matter the circumstance.
And right now, you would give just about anything to go back to those days. Where the most important thing you had to worry about was how to style Satoru’s hair the next day, or what would be served for breakfast in the morning.
“You’re wearing blue.”
Your head turned to find Suguru standing there in the doorway, his lips turned down as his hazy stare slid over your body. You hurried to stand, forgoing spritzing the fancy perfume he gifted you across your skin as he strode over to you. Ready to fake moans and feign devotion.
“Is this not one you gave me?” You innocently asked, tilting your head to the side.
It wasn’t like you could purchase your own dresses.
Truthfully, you had no idea what even happened to the funds you saved up before Satoru brought you here. She had said she would take care of the transfer, but within days of coming here, you were being whisked off your feet and away from her by the man in front of you now.
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” he muttered, his fingers plucking one of the straps off your shoulder and pulling it down with a sigh as he ignored your inquiry. “I’m taking it off of you anyway.”
His hands shook while he removed it, his fingers unsteady for once as he tried to shimmy your panties down your thighs next. He kissed you, but the sour taste of wine was still on his lips, and you ached to pull away.
To ask him to reconsider what he wanted from you.
Even if you knew that wasn’t your place.
To your surprise though, he retreated first, your mouth still hanging open as he let out a low groan. You knew something was wrong at the sound of it. How guttural it came out when you hadn’t even touched his cock yet.
You blinked up at him only to see red.
Blood dripped down his lips as he stared at you without really seeing you, fear glittering his dark eyes empty in the candlelight as your own fingers reached out to wipe it away. Had you bitten him without realizing it? Was he hurt?
Before you could even touch it, he coughed hard, and your face was suddenly wet.
Your hand was still outstretching towards him the moment he collapsed.
Someone screamed, but it wasn’t until servants began running into the room that you realized the horrible sound was coming from you, ripped from the back of your throat as the scene immediately morphed into a mess. Maids shouting for doctors and rushing around to try and stop the bleeding that was still pouring from his mouth, propping him up. But even if his eyes were open, they weren’t blinking.
Had his soul already separated from the still shell he left behind?
Something damp hit your palm, your fuzzy vision struggling to focus as it belatedly struck you that you were still dripping with the red, your palms shaking, refusing to stop twitching at the unnerving sight of it.
Steady drops begging to drop down to your bare breasts, staining your skin as you stumbled back, running from the inevitable as your shattered gasps wouldn’t allow enough air into your lungs.
This wasn’t happening.
It couldn’t be.
This must be a nightmare. Some awful dream you’d gotten dragged into as you tried to wake yourself back up, desperately wiping your face as you struggled to get it clean, but nothing was working. Nothing was changing.
Hyperventilating as a maid shouted, calling in guards while your back hit the wall, your fingers trembling as you buried your face in your hands, as if you could hide from what was happening.
“Is he still alive?”
No. No no no.
If he was gone, what the hell would happen to you?
There were too many people in the room, too much going on for you to focus on what was happening in front of you. Your ears filling you in no matter how much you desperately wanted to shut it all out.
To rewind the clock, even if it was just for a few minutes. Bring it back to where everything was still normal.
The palace doctor arrived out of breath as you peeked back up at your world unraveling only to find him shaking his head as he checked the limp body on the floor’s pulse.
You knew it before he said it though. Had from the moment he coughed and collapsed.
“The king is dead.”
The only person in power now was his wife.
Someone was probably on their way to get Satoru now, to shake her awake from her bed and notify her that her husband was no longer among the living.
Even if you didn’t want to have his baby, you still never would have chosen this.
Curling up with your bare knees to your chest, staring at your blood-splattered blue nightdress left in a crumpled pile on the floor, eyes wild as you watched people rush in and out.
Guards filing in, one of them ripping you up from off the ground with a rough grip on your arm, barking some question you didn’t understand as you tried to shake your head, dragging you out of the room as you got one last glimpse at Suguru’s still form staring up at the ceiling.
“Did you do this?”
“What?” You blinked, turning back with disgust as you rebuffed it. “I-I wouldn’t-”
The guard wasn’t listening, pulling you out only for you to nearly run into someone else.
Your pounding heart stopped the second you realized it was Satoru.
Her pretty face pinched up with disdain, long hair loose and cascading down her back, an intricate amethyst-colored gown draping over the cobbled hall as she looked down at you, her mouth twitching as her gaze drifted across your exposed skin.
You were about to beg her to tell them that it couldn’t have been you, bottom lip trembling as you tried to get the words out, but she cut you off, looking to the knight by her side as she solemnly shook her head.
“Lock her up.”
She couldn’t mean it.
It honestly felt more far-fetched than Suguru’s sudden death. Unable to understand those three sharp words that left her lips until another man was yanking you away, pulling you down corridors.
Humiliation burned through you as the initial shock started to fade and the reality of your situation began to sit in. Being dragged naked across the palace until you were led up a long spiralling staircase to a tower you’d never stepped foot inside before.
Spared the cruelty of the cold dungeons only to be shoved inside a tiny room at the top, a heavy door slammed shut as your eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. A barren space with only a small bed pushed against the wall, a small window that was only big enough for you to peek out of, the bitter night breeze blowing in through it as you stood there, waiting for, well, you weren’t sure what.
Satoru to show up and swear this was all some awful joke? To tell you that she didn’t mean to scare you and that everything was fine? That this was all a part of some plan of hers?
Wishful thinking, wasn’t it?
If they thought you were responsible, that you somehow killed him, you would be executed within a month.
Maybe not even offered a trial, just dragged out to be hanged or beheaded without a chance to defend yourself.
Who would have sympathy for a traitor?
A poor maid masquerading as a concubine, one who truly should have never had a place beneath the king to begin with.
All you were was an ignorant idiot that was born to take the blame. No matter your innocence.
And yet, when you finally heard footsteps approaching your lonely room, you were still rushing towards it, ready to plead your case to whoever showed up.
When you heard Satoru’s voice, you nearly sobbed.
She must be coming to let you out. To explain everything away and bring you back to her room the way she once had. Whisk you away and remind you with that charming smile that she had told you not to worry.
Satoru wasn’t your knight in shining armor. She was better.
A hero with her white-haired halo, your blue-eyed angel in a gossamer gown.
“Toru, please,” you called out, peeking up to discover a rectangle carved out of the thick wood of the door, wide enough for you to look back out into the barely-lit hallway.
“Make sure no one comes up here,” Satoru coldly instructed the knights outside, your heart stalling as you stared at her through that thin slat. The heavy click of several additional locks followed while her sharp eyes watched you back, your heart shattering into even tinier bits with each one.
And then Satoru did something that stomped on all the remaining shards of it.
She left.
You broke down, sobbing on the floor until there wasn’t anything left in you to cry out. Curling up on the frigid ground instead of the bed, unable to even summon the strength to get up and crawl towards it.
At some point, you supposed you fell asleep like that, because when you woke up to a fraction of the sun slipping in through your tiny window, there were clothes and food delivered, along with a cold bucket of water and a washrag.
Too numb to feel thankful, as if someone had scooped every part of you out as you ignored the food in front of you, about to cup a handful of water and drink it before you looked down at your hands and saw all the dried blood still staining them, your stomach shifting once again as the memory of Suguru’s face before he died floated up in your brain.
You scrubbed your skin, washing Suguru off of you until the bucket had run red, staring at the liquid sloshing around. Refusing to stop until you were certain there were no traces of him left, your hands raw and trembling when you dropped the rag back down.
Putting clothes back on didn’t make you feel any better.
Not when you had traded the fancy dresses you had just begun to get used to for a plain one, the material scratching your skin as you finally managed to get yourself up into the bed.
But even just trying to go back to sleep didn’t work when a knight came barging in to conduct an interrogation.
Which essentially just meant hours of him asking the same questions and getting angry when you kept giving him the same answers?
“Did you conspire to kill the king?” No.
“Did you poison him?” No.
“Did you have any reason to want him dead?” Yes. No.
It didn’t matter what you said though.
As long as it didn’t align with what he was hoping to hear, he wouldn’t give any of your words credence.
And by the end of it, you were being dragged back to your cell, waiting for a fate far worse than simply being the mother of the future heir to the kingdom.
Even if you used to think there was nothing worse than betraying Satoru.
Being abandoned by her was the cruelest sentence of all.
A raw throbbing ache taking up residence in your chest, reminding you of her absence with every short breath you sucked in, no blankets to curl up and hide under as you waited for the inevitable.
You knew what the cold felt like. How brittle it could be when it settled into your bones. Knew how starvation felt when your body started to break down bits of yourself for sustenance.
But knowing her warmth, how full she could make you feel, only ate at you more. Shoved off the pretty pedestal she placed you on, no longer sparkling or polished as you stared at your bitten-down nails and numbly craved pieces of her you knew would never be yours.
Perhaps this was punishment for dreaming too big.
For ever thinking that you could have her while you were still catering to Suguru.
A day passed.
And another.
The hours slipping past you in a dull daze, food delivered that you refused to take a bite of. A little voice in your head that was quickly growing delirious suggested that it could be poisoned, and it was the only thing that tempted you into taking a small bite.
But then you thought of the fear in Suguru’s eyes when he died, and you dropped it again, returning to your uncomfortable bed, curling up to stare at the same wall you’d been studying the cracks in since you first crawled into it.
You were losing it.
About to start speaking to yourself just to stop the silence from driving you crazy, only your thoughts to keep you company as you tossed and turned, no energy left in your exhausted limbs as you tried to think of all the ways this could end.
Unable to come up with a way out of this when the only person you ever found worth living for had decided you weren’t worth it anymore.
Satoru had told you to trust her.
But you never had anything to offer her other than loyalty.
And what good was that when you would’ve had her husband’s baby if he hadn’t died?
She must hate you.
“Oh, princess.”
Great.
You had lost it.
Were you hearing things now? Sanity slipping away with every day you decided not to eat?
“Won’t you at least look at me?” Satoru’s sweet voice called out to you.
You weren't going to, stubbornly keeping your head forward until you heard the locks actually unlatching. Sitting up on the thin mattress and turning just in time to see the door opening, and your angel returning to you.
An easy smile curling up on her glossy lips, her ethereal eyes sparkling in the fading light of the day drifting in from outside, a white dress softly fluttering around her frame as she leaned against the wall like she was waiting for you to get down on your knees and thank her.
“I didn’t do it,” you breathed, almost automatically.
You needed her to believe-
“Sweetheart,” she softly shook her head as she sighed. “I know.”
Then why did she throw you in a tower and lock you up like this? Leave you a broken mess, laid bare and bloody?
“I just had to take care of a few things,” Satoru cooed.
You didn’t move. Couldn’t.
Unable to speak when you stared at her, feeling like a stranger in your own skin as you studied her back.
“Did you think I would just let you rot?” She teased, as if you weren’t still a prisoner while she tilted her head to the side, appraising you like you were some fruit she had finally decided to pluck.
It hurt.
A small wound ripping open beneath the surface, one you were quick to bandage up and come up with excuses for.
Almost immediately telling yourself that surely, she came to you as soon as she could, relief washing over the fresh sting at the realization she truly didn’t think you were behind Suguru’s death. That she hadn’t abandoned you after all.
“Don’t just sit there and stare at me,” she huffed, sick of your silence, folding her arms across her chest and frowning at you.
“Toru?” You croaked out her name, wanting to trust that it still had a place on your lips as you waited for her to disappear. Standing up on unsteady legs, muscles sore from how little you’d used them lately as you took unsure steps forward. A piece of you still convinced that you might be imagining this, or drifted off to some pretty dream where she played the same role she always did.
Your savior.
But when you got to her, hesitantly reaching out to touch her face, your fingertips trembling as you touched her cheek to discover it was solid.
Soft.
“I missed you too,” she murmured affectionately, reaching up to hold your hand there. Relaxing into your touch as you felt something inside you instantly crumble at the tiniest show of regard.
And before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around her neck, tears welling up as you inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume, burying your face in her throat as a rough sob escaped you.
She let you.
Didn’t push you off or give you that look like you had overstepped some boundary.
No, she just slid a hand over your back, holding you closer and letting you cry into her collarbone. Stroking your hair, slowly picking out the tangles and knots in it as your body shuddered with the force of your tears.
You didn’t think you had anything left in you to cry.
But apparently there you weren’t dried out yet, and she held you through all of it. Murmuring soft words into your ear, coaxing you to calm down as you struggled to piece yourself back together after you let it all fall apart.
“I swear, I would never do anything that could put you at risk,” you added, anxiety still swirling around your thoughts as you shook your head.
“Don’t worry,” Satoru purred, squeezing you as another shudder wracked through your body. “The right person will be imprisoned soon.”
As terrible as it sounded, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care who had done it, or even why, as long as it meant you and Satoru would be safe.
The rest was just noise.
You could go back to being her maid. Waiting on her hand and foot if it meant you wouldn’t have to be away from her side again.
And if the court tried to take her crown, or shipped her back to her own palace after the rightful king had been killed, well, you both could get through it together, couldn’t you?
“I thought you left me,” you mumbled, your voice cracking as she tenderly hummed your name.
“I would never,” she swore, petting your head as she pulled you into her chest, your shoulders slumping at how tightly she held you.
“Promise?” You hopefully asked, needing to know. Needing her to say she wasn’t going anywhere.
Simply needing her.
“I promise.”
You believed her with just two words.
Under her spell in a handful of moments, your heart pounding in your chest when she eventually pulled away, cupping your face and wiping away your tears like it hurt for her to see you crying.
“Come with me,” she spoke slowly, her thumb skimming lightly over your cheekbone.
You would follow her anywhere.
Across the kingdom. To another, or even over the sea to some small countryside village. Any place was fine.
As long as she wanted you there.
Skipping down the long stairs after her, your pulse thrumming in your eardrums as you waited to get stopped by some guard, for a knight to pop up and point a sword at you for absconding with their queen.
No one else was around however, the halls barren and silent as her soft fingers interlaced through yours, tugging you ahead as she navigated through them with ease.
“Were you starving yourself for my attention?” She half-whispered, her voice hushed and husky as she threw you a look you didn’t understand.
Was she disappointed in you?
“I haven’t been hungry,” you mumbled, shaking your head. You never thought she’d come check on you. Or even be keeping tabs through whoever came to drop off the food for you.
“That’s no excuse,” she softly scolded you.
“I’m sorry,” you automatically apologized, hanging your head lower as she opened a door and ushered you into a room you’d never been in before.
It looked like it was actually fit for a princess.
Ornately designed and filled with expensive furniture you couldn’t fathom the cost of, your body freezing just two short steps inside as she shut the door behind you. Quickly making herself comfortable, slipping off her short heels and walking over to the massive bed against one wall, looking back at you with barely concealed excitement, searching your face to see if you shared
“You can stay here for now,” she whispered, winking at you as she ran her palm over the soft fabric of the blankets adorning the bed. “It’ll be our secret.”
Your secret.
The words echoed in your head, unable to shut your open mouth as you struggled to take your eyes off of her.
“Much better than that dingy tower, hm?” Satoru goaded, pride glittering in her brilliant stare.
“What is this?” You asked, looking around at the intricate tapestries hung on the walls, the plush carpets laid over the floor, the carvings into the wooden dressers and the canopy of the bed.
“Your room,” she happily hummed.
“My-” You couldn’t even say it out loud.
It had to be a joke.
“There’s a warm bath waiting for you,” she murmured, nodding towards an adjoining door you’d been too overwhelmed to notice before. “And some fresh fruit on a platter by the tub. Your favorites.”
What were you meant to make of this?
Her belated apology for locking you up for days? For leaving you behind to handle affairs far bigger than you?
Something itched at the back of your conscience, telling you to second guess this gift.
But how were you supposed to listen to your better judgement when everything left of your sensibility had been broken?
“Please eat something,” she added, and all you could do was nod your head like a moron.
“I will,” you dutifully answered.
Who were you to disobey your queen?
“Do you need help getting out of that?” She asked, glancing towards your dress, nose wrinkling at the dirt on it before she dusted herself off like perhaps you’d gotten her filthy too.
“No, I can do it,” you insisted, slipping into the bathroom before you could somehow end up even more self-conscious.
But your muscles were already aching for relief, a throbbing pain beginning in your shoulder when you lifted your dress up and over your head.
One that was thankfully soothed by the still warm water in the tub, a welcome relief to the frigid water buckets you’d been sticking using the last few days. Flower petals floating on the surface, bath salts mixed in as you sank yourself in neck-deep.
True to her word, there was a platter of food set up by the tub, and you forced yourself to take a few bites, nibbling on just enough to satisfy her request.
Satoru was trying to take care of you.
Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
Offering your shoulder for her to cry or cling to after her husband died horrifically?
Of course, you knew she didn’t like him. Or well, more accurately, she loathed him. But his passing put her in a precarious position, her own life most likely hanging in the balance when she had no heir to guarantee her safety or status here.
You didn’t know what she was going to do.
Which also meant you had no idea what you were going to do.
A piece of you wished you were born a man. That you’d been given the chance or opportunity to learn swordsmanship, or got to train with the knights. That you would be able to protect Satoru, shield her from these petty and cruel court politics instead of getting caught in the crossfire.
Washing yourself of the last few days did not help quell your feelings of inadequacy, or solve a single one of your problems, no matter how soothing it was to soak and scrub yourself clean properly this time.
You didn’t linger in the tub.
No matter how much you might have liked to, a far greater part of you longed to be around Satoru. Craving her company after you’d been deprived of her presence for so long. You wanted to curl up in her lap like you used to, back when you were children and she’d be the one to comfort you over every skinned knee and scraped elbow.
Stepping out of the tub with a heavy sigh, squinting when you discovered something wasn’t quite right.
“Toru?” You called out, glancing around the small room searching for something that was evidently forgotten. “There’s no towel.”
Or change of clothes.
Nothing but your discarded dress from before to cover up, although you weren’t exactly inclined to pick it back up.
You thought she’d just open the door and toss something to put on.
Not just swing the door open and saunter in a second later, not even blinking as her eyes swept over your bare form. Lingering on the swell of your breasts and the way the water droplets were still rolling down between them.
“The maid must have forgotten,” she hummed, dragging her stare off of you to do a courtesy sweep of the room. “Give me a moment.”
You were overthinking it.
Nodding obediently as you glanced down at your legs, shuffling on your feet as heat rose to your cheeks, thankful for the soft thud of the door shutting.
She returned a couple minutes later, a towel in one arm and a white gown that looked an awful lot like a short version of her own in the other, passing both to you with that practiced smile of hers she usually saved for when she was up to something.
“There you go,” Satoru chirped. “I’ll wait for you.”
It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen you naked before.
But this felt decidedly different.
And you didn’t know what to do about the strange fluttering in your stomach at the idea of her watching you dress, at the way her eyes had drifted so dangerously slowly over the shape of you.
Was this a dream?
Were you still asleep? Still stuck in that tower?
Wishing for something you had never once been able to admit to yourself that you wanted?
You took an extra few minutes to dry off, adjusting the way the dress hung over you five times too many before you paused to brush your teeth in the mirror, avoiding your reflection as you spit in the sink, watching the tinged pink drool disappear with a soft exhale.
Satoru was pristine. Pure.
And what were you?
You opened the door, fiddling with the hem of the dress she’d given you as you nearly ran straight into where she was waiting right outside of it.
“I was getting worried,” she lightly joked, and you were brushing past her, a painful surge of panic bubbling back up.
“Why are you doing this for me?” You asked, hyper aware of how undeserving you were as you padded barefoot back into the overwhelmingly lovely room. “It’s too much, I-”
“You should know by now that nothing is too much for me when it comes to you,” Satoru chided with a soft chuckle. Refusing to let you step away from her, grabbing your wrist before you could slip away.
She was so close.
That familiar scent of her lulling you back in, daring you to breathe her in again.
And god, you wanted to.
Satoru said your name, and before you knew what you were doing, you were leaning up on your tip toes and pressing your lips to hers, impulsively planting a kiss to her strawberry-flavored mouth.
You knew within half a second that you shouldn’t have done it, but you couldn’t stop yourself, deepening it as your fingertips tenderly grazed her impossibly perfect skin. It took every ounce of self restraint for you to pull away from her, shaking your head as you tried not to cry at the thought you would never get to do that again.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, immediately wishing you could take it back, sure that she would throw you back in the tower for the crime of presuming you could possibly deserve anything as sweet as her lips. “I shouldn’t have-”
But before you could so much as finish your sentence, Satoru was cupping your face and pulling you back in, her nose nestling against yours as her blue eyes sparkled with something you’d never seen in them before.
“Do it again.”
ε✿з
You were kissing her.
For a moment, Satoru was sure she had died and this was heaven.
How often had she scrawled into diaries her deepest dreams of getting to experience the taste of you on her tongue?
Your gentle hands on her face and your heaving chest pressed against hers, lips slipping between her own with desperate affection.
You. Desperate. For her.
Her brain only conjuring her small words and short sentences, too overwhelmed by the sensation of your soft mouth to think straight.
God, you tasted so good.
Fruity and sweet at the same time, your delicate fingers sifting through her hair as you let out the quietest squeak Satoru immediately wanted to hear over and over, sure she’d never get sick of the sound.
And behind the lovestruck haze, a jealous voice scoffed that she should’ve killed Suguru far sooner for getting to taste you like this first.
Slipped the poison in his cup the moment he set his sights on you and made his intent to steal you clear.
Of course, cleaning it up would’ve been much messier, but red hot jealousy coiled and cut through all her cold logic when she thought of his massive mitts manhandling you instead of treating you like the rare flower you really were.
Satoru was the one who spent her life watering you, taking care to tend to the soil and fertilize it, making sure you’d bloom so beautifully for her, and he tried to rip your roots out like you wouldn’t just wither away without her.
“Satoru,” you whispered her name, sucking in a sharp breath as you pulled back, eyes shining with surprise.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you,” she swallowed hard, spit pooling in the back of her mouth.
From the day you looked up at her like some wounded lamb, you had been hers.
Perhaps it had just taken a little separation for you to see that too.
“You were waiting for me?” You repeated, that dazed, dreamy look in your eyes as you looked up at her, as if you thought she was going to change her mind.
“My heart has always been yours,” she proclaimed, although the confession she used to imagine came out far more shaky than it had in her head. Not nearly as cool or collected or calm as she pictured when your cheek was so warm beneath her palm.
Praying that you wouldn’t change your mind now that she had no way to take back the words.
“But I’m-” You were about to put yourself down. To diminish the light inside you that she loved so much.
“You’re mine.”
And no one else’s now.
Before you could protest, claim something silly about the difference in your status, she was pulling you back onto the bed, your form landing on top of hers as the feathered mattress cushioned the fall. You tried to wiggle back, but Satoru simply gripped your waist, refusing to let you budge as she pushed her bottom lip out in a pout you immediately softened for.
“Say it for me,” she requested.
“I have always belonged to you,” you acquiesced, and Satoru wanted to bury herself inside of your heart to make sure there really was no space for anyone else inside of it.
That it was wholly hers the way you already occupied every nook and crevice of her body and brain.
She was craning her neck up to kiss you again, your mouth meeting hers a little slower, more hesitation creeping in as your body began to melt against her. A possessive hand sliding up your spine, already annoyed at the fabric separating your skin from hers.
Needing to feel you properly, for your soft flesh to dimple beneath her fingers, to leave lovebites scattered across every inch of you that you offered.
“It killed me to see you with him,” she muttered, chest seizing at how vulnerable the confession came out.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, shaking your head before she abruptly flipped you over, pinning you beneath her and pushing your dress up to expose-
Oh fuck.
Was every part of you so pretty?
Your pussy glistening as she nudged your thighs further apart, her pulse pounding in her ears as she finally got to see all of you up close. Presented perfectly for her, your nose scrunched up like you might be scared she could possibly find something wrong with you instead of being awestruck by the simple sight of you splayed out for her.
She might not have a cock, but Satoru was sure she could make you cum hard enough to forget about any petty insecurities that might be plaguing you.
“Take your gown off,” Satoru instructed, only realizing how stern it came out when you faltered, hesitating as you bit your bottom lip. “Please.”
Before she had to break down and beg for you to strip.
Satoru sat up and started lifting off her own dress as well, watching the way your eyes hung onto the heave of her breasts, how they kept shyly flickering back up to her face as your fingers slowly moved to remove the fabric.
You weren’t girls anymore.
Not kids playing husband and wife, or king and queen.
Exploring each other for keeps, hands tepidly traveling across hips and thighs and breasts at first, although it didn’t take much time for the touches to turn needy.
Hungry for something you’d both been starving yourselves of for years.
Could you really blame Satoru for not being able to stop herself?
For hooking one of those soft thighs of yours over her shoulder and dragging her tongue along the inside of it before the last little tendril of self-control she possessed snapped?
She had to have you.
Slipping two fingers inside you slowly, feeling the way you squeezed around her digits, your mouth forming a delicious little ‘o’ she wanted to kiss again. Already shaking before she even began to swirl her fingers around inside of you, barely able to contain the heat rolling through her core just watching your reactions as she pushed in deeper.
You whimpered, and every single thing that led up to this in Satoru’s life was suddenly worth it.
The mocking, the marriage, every mistake she made on this meandering path, she’d do all of it again if you were waiting for her at the end of it.
Your lips swollen and kiss-bruised as you let out soft sounds of pleasure that were because of her. Your naked form shivering in the same bed as you reached down to run your fingers through her hair, holding it back as she found herself half-delirious with lust she couldn’t hold back.
Slotting in a third finger the second she thought you could take it, watching your eyes widen and start to water as they rolled back, your hips bucking up to drive her fingers as deep as possible.
“My princess can take more,” she purred, spreading you further apart, greedy eyes gazing on your stripped bare body, the thin sheen of sweat sticking to your skin as you moaned her name.
“S-S’toru,” you cried out, and she was a little tempted to just do this for hours and count how many times she could make you say it precisely like that.
Satoru must have imagined this moment a million times. What your face would look like all scrunched up, how you would shiver and shake as she swirled her fingers in, feeling for all those sensitive spots that had you immediately trying to squirm and wiggle away.
Pushing and pressing into them while she pleaded for you to stay put in her sultriest voice.
“Be a good girl for me,” she hummed, and you nodded, loyal as ever. Itching to please her as badly as she wanted to please you. “Let me love you.”
Let her hold you.
Fuck you.
Make you cum as many times as you could in a single night and then give her the rest of them. All your nights. All your days. Everything.
Satoru had always been greedy.
And you satiated her sweet tooth more than anything else ever did.
Sinking her teeth into the inside of your thighs just because she could, feeling your muscles twitch and spasm as you gasped, caught off guard.
You didn’t stop her.
No, you let her bite and lick and kiss, her mouth latching onto your swollen clit, swirling the tip of her tongue over it as you let out a raw noise. As if someone had just ripped it from your stomach, pulled it out of you too fast for you to soften it.
Her fingers continued to thrust in while she nipped at your clit, just for your body to confirm what she suspected by clenching around her hand like you wanted to trap it in there. You were cumming for her already.
She’d seen you do it with Suguru.
But this one was so much more visceral, no dramatic or drawn-out moan, just your body melting into a puddle for her to mold as you fell apart for her.
You were shuddering, limbs trembling, as you tried to pull her back by her hair.
But you had never been good at telling her no.
Even when she was driving you right to the brink of overstimulation, and then pushing you well past it, greedily sucking on that sensitive bud, pressing her tongue flat against it as she pumped her fingers in-and-out, finding a steady rhythm to ruin you too.
Satoru had never had sex before. Her purity protected well into the marriage she was supposed to save it for. No experience of her own to truly compare this too. But she’d touched herself and pretended it was you enough times to have an idea of what would make you unravel just right.
Operating on instinct, on need, peering up at you from her position between your thighs as pretty tears welled up in your eyes. Satoru wanted to soothe your ache, to kiss them away and drag her tongue over the streaks they left on your cheeks.
Perhaps she should’ve planned a little better, found something bigger to stick in you, to make you moan and murmur for mercy with, watching you fall apart while she teased and toyed with your body now that you had finally given yourself fully to her.
You were so beautiful like this.
Being brought to the heights of pleasure, worshipped the way you should’ve been from the start, her tongue and fingers working together as she clumsily made out with you, only pulling off to drag the thick muscle over your slick folds for a better taste.
“I-I-” You hiccuped, your voice half an octave too high as your thighs clamped down around her head, your own thrown back as you wiggled your hips, chasing a second climax. “I c-can’t-”
“You can,” Satoru hummed, rubbing her own thighs together to soothe the aching need between them. “Want you to cum for me again, princess.”
You wouldn’t deny her.
You never did.
Desperately groaning as you gave in, sweat making both your bodies sticky as you tried to not to tug too hard at her hair, still holding back to not hurt her as you crumbled into a crying mess. Tears slipping out that she was quick to climb back on top of you and wipe away, kissing your lips to swallow your whines, enjoying the way you fit so nicely beneath her until you started to come back down.
“You look so pretty like this,” she softly complimented, tracing her thumb over your lip, already missing your kiss the moment your mouths were apart.
“Toru,” you whispered her name, and she was sure that she would never get sick of hearing it. Far fucking better than the way you used to say Suguru.
“Mhm?” She hummed, chewing on the inside of her cheek as you stared straight through her. That fuzzy look in your eyes fading as understanding replaced the daze.
Like you’d suddenly gained some clarity.
“It was you, was it?” You asked, and you didn’t need to say what when you were both well aware of what you were accusing her of.
Were you really just now considering it?
Was your judgement clouded from your unconditional love? So devoted that you were deluding yourself into ignoring the obvious?
“No,” Satoru lied, still in the habit of hiding the truth if it meant sparing your feelings. Refusing to lose you after she just got you. “It wasn’t me.”
ε✿з
You were flying far too close to the sun.
You knew that somewhere deep inside of you as Satoru snuggled against your collarbone, her warmth wrapped around you as she burned you up. Her scorching touch seared into your skin as she refused to let even an inch separate the two of you.
Sooner or later, your wings were going to fail you, and send you tumbling out of the sky back to the ground.
Would she catch you when you crashed?
Or would you be left to stare up at her until she was just a beautiful bird flying high out of your reach?
All you were doing was damning yourself by dreaming of a happy ending with her.
You guessed you should just be grateful for what you had while you had it.
That she hadn’t cut your tongue out for daring to slip it between her lips.
It hadn’t been the first time you had thought about it.
But even entertaining the idea of her choosing you had always been so preposterous you pushed your budding feelings down deep, refusing to let them devour you no matter how often she occupied your dreams.
Your life had been built around the pristine pedestal you placed her on.
Your world revolved around her smile, her laugh, hearing your twinkling voice in your ear and feeling her soft fingers brushing over your skin.
Everything you’d ever done had been for her.
So why did it feel like you’d just gone from warming one ruler’s sheets to another?
As if you were just in her bed for the comfort she brought, the security of her position.
You hoped she wouldn’t think that. That she understood that if she asked you to run away with her today, you would accept without hesitation.
Next to her now, her sleepy eyes fluttering open as she hummed your name, it just made you think of how stupid you were not to have been doing this all along. For not seeing this for what it was sooner.
“You’ll be safe here,” Satoru murmured, snuggling against you as you rolled onto your side. Keeping herself glued to you, her lips lingering on your skin with a content sigh.
“What happens next?” You murmured, watching the morning sun beginning to rise through the stained glass window, slowly chasing the dark away as your personal sunshine faltered for a moment.
“They’re still investigating his passing,” she mumbled, refusing to say Suguru’s name. Or call it for what it must have been. An assassination someone wanted to make you the scapegoat for. “You haven’t been officially cleared yet.”
And still, she’d showed up for you, hadn’t she?
“But I will be?” You hopefully asked, your heart thrumming at the thought of this being ripped from you too.
“Nothing will happen to you,” she swore.
You had given her your heart. Your soul. Your body.
Those were all you really had to offer.
But handing her your trust?
That was…tricky.
Especially when she wouldn’t offer any more details about your detainment as the minutes melted into hours and the hours twisted into days that just kept passing.
In the dark moments, a cold voice suggested that you should at least consider the chance she could have done it. Orchestrated it from the shadows. But she had told you she hadn’t.
She would’ve confessed it if she had.
Suguru had his fair share of enemies. Disgruntled rulers from other kingdoms, angry nobles and dukes who wanted more power than he allowed.
It wasn’t like it was outrageous that one of them had grown sick of his antics and took matters into their own hands.
So you tried to be content too, Satoru trading your tower for more comfortable quarters, her trusted knights stationed outside the room you caught glimpses at when she slipped in-and-out, leaving you to attend to her duties most days.
She brought you meals, insisting on hand feeding you half the time, murmuring under her breath that you couldn’t be trusted to do it yourself before she had you for dessert. Hands spreading your thighs apart as she lapped and licked you up, refusing to pull off until you had cum on her tongue or come undone with her fingers, falling apart for her to mend back together.
Still, it had started to feel like you were becoming more a part of her schedule than like her partner.
Perhaps that was wishing too much though.
Wanting more than you had any right to ask for.
At the end of the day, you would still always be a maid in everyone’s eyes.
Her pet.
Her people wouldn’t exactly be pleased to know that their queen was more interested in women than securing another king or providing them an heir?
Were you a price she was willing to pay for political control? Would there come a day where she would remarry another man?
Was it already being arranged while you wasted weeks lounging around in her bed and longing for her to join you, smelling her scent on the pillow and aching for her return?
The worst part was how Satoru was so hesitant to let you hold her, doing everything on her terms as she came up with excuse after excuse to keep your hands either bound behind your back or tethered in her hair instead of tracing over her soft skin.
Did she think you were too dirty?
That you would stain her supple flesh if you so much as squeezed her close?
No matter how much it stung, you still shoved down your discomfort. Told yourself that you should be grateful for what she was giving you and ignore how much she withheld.
You had to plead with her just to be allowed to visit her office during the days to keep yourself from going insane. A trusted knight always had to accompany you there, a shawl hiding your face as they carefully took you there when no one else would be around. She stocked extra books for you, a basket left next to one of the armchairs with embroidery supplies, sometimes making you write letters for her that she couldn’t care to do herself to foreign kingdoms and nobles to settle their unrest.
And after a month, you began to settle.
Setting aside old foolish hopes and accepting your new routine.
Waiting for her to join you in her office, curling up in one of the other chairs as you tried to tell yourself that she’d come back soon. She had run off to attend some important meeting, patting your head and telling you that it was nothing when you tried to ask what it was about.
So what if it made you feel a little pathetic for waiting around like a poor puppy dog abandoned by her owner?
Satoru would return to you.
And she made all of it worth it.
Your body was beginning to fall asleep though, pins and needles pricking your limbs when you stood to shake it off, walking around in a circle and wondering if you were just destined to be on her leash before you decided to slump yourself in her chair instead.
It smelled like her.
Your body relaxing at the scent, already trained as your eyes skimmed over her cluttered desk space, papers strewn around from the hurry she left in before.
Curiosity pricking at you as you found yourself slowly opening up drawers and peeking inside to see if there was anything interesting hiding from you. And slipped underneath thick ledgers and blank papers was a plain black leather-bound notebook you’d seen her writing in before.
You pulled it out, a not-at-all small piece of you hoping that maybe it was a secret diary as you started flipping through it, that you’d find your own name scribbled down with hearts drawn next to it.
It turned out your name was there.
But it was the words that were with it that sent your stomach through the floor.
The contents of it were cold.
Sharp. Each word punctuated so deeply that the ink bled between the pages.
The confirmation that she loved you was there. Just sandwiched between white hot anger that someone else had gotten to touch you first. To fuck you in the bed you belonged in with her.
Queasiness slowly building in your core, something thick and slimy coiling around your heart as you skipped from the earlier entries to the more recent ones, knowing what was coming before you found the entry for the day Suguru died.
And there in between the lines, the truth stared back at you.
She had dinner with Suguru.
Shared a meal together right before he went to join you that she never once mentioned to you.
No.
This couldn’t be right.
Satoru couldn’t have-
Or well, if she did, she wouldn’t have framed you for it.
She loved you.
Swore that you were hers and that she’d never let anything awful happen to you again. The idea that she’d put you through hell just to have you all to herself was crippling.
Maybe she didn’t outright admit that she’d done it, maybe you still didn’t know precisely how, but you knew it was her with a scary sort of certainty.
Your body freezing as you read and reread the five short lines in front of you detailing her evening, forcing yourself to turn the page and read ahead, to see her absolutely unaffected as she offered just a single line about Suguru dying. Images of his face, that awful look in his eyes before he collapsed floating back up as you choked on the stomach-churning memory of him.
An awful thought crept in that she left it here for you to find. That some part of her hoped you’d be nosey enough to snoop and come across it.
For you to see all of her.
Was it a test?
Her attempt to see if your devotion to her was strong enough to stay despite what she’d done.
You closed the book, shoving it back where you found it and standing up as the knowledge started to sink in, to seep through and cast a darker shade on your days together as you rushed to return to your chair.
What if it had all been designed to keep you firmly in your place beneath her? Confined to her chambers and chained to her heart?
Didn’t she already know she didn’t need to do any of it for you to stay?
The door opened with a creak, and you were reopening the forgotten book you’d been reading before you found the forbidden one.
“Hi, beautiful,” Satoru greeted as she walked over, bending over to press a soft kiss on your cheek before breezing past to her desk.
“Hi, Toru,” you echoed, pretending to be absorbed in the book in your hands, hoping she wouldn’t notice you were holding it upside down.
You closed it, placing it in your lap as you looked up at her with easy obedience, praying she wouldn’t pay any mind to the suspicion now lingering underneath it.
“Was I gone long?” She earnestly asked as she slid into her seat, scooting it up close to her desk and leaning across it as her blue eyes focused solely on your face.
“It felt like it,” you confessed, swallowing hard.
“I must make it up to you tonight then,” your Toru teased, her perfectly cruel mouth curling up as she delivered a cute wink.
She did make it up to you.
But it didn’t make you forget what you found.
What were you meant to do about it?
Pretend you hadn’t? Pray that no one else would ever discover what you had?
You wished she would abandon this. Abdicate the throne and take you away somewhere warm.
But it was Satoru.
Hadn’t you learned already she refused to give up anything once it was hers?
The privilege, the power, the promise of a gold gilded future with you waiting on her.
She would never let it go.
It was you that didn’t know how to move forward. That could figure out where to go from here when she didn’t seem to notice your indiscretion.
You spent two days torn over it. Treading softly with her, feigning that you were fine overnight until she left you again and you unraveled in her absence.
Opening the bedroom door an hour after she left, already knowing who’d you find on the other side.
A brute of a man standing guard, his back to the opposite wall as his ruby red eyes narrowed at you with pure annoyance.
“No.”
You hadn’t even spoken yet.
Eying him with the same irritation he showed for you, nose scrunching up as you stopped yourself from huffing.
Most of the guards she had stationed outside your room changed, unaware of who they were even protecting, a rotating roster of men ready to keep you from breaking free. But not him.
He was always the one posted directly by your door.
Dark pink hair falling down in his face, scarred and marked skin always creased in a stern scowl when he caught you staring at him, one foot about to fall forward before he shook his head.
“Stop,” he grunted as you peeked out of the door, and you feigned innocence, shrugging your shoulders.
“I just want to go to her office,” you pleaded, and he glared at you, refusing to even entertain your request.
“No,” he deadpanned.
But there was something underneath his rude facade that you didn’t like. Your brows pinching together as you tried to pout at him, to come up with something persuasive enough to change his answer.
Before you could, there was the click of heels, and you glanced back to see Satoru returning, a platter prepared with desserts. Her pretty face was pinched up with obvious displeasure though, her mouth twitching down as you hurried to step back inside your room.
She was slamming the door shut after you a few seconds later, half-shoving the tray into your hands as she turned to you with a disgruntled hiss.
“Why were you speaking to him?” Satoru snapped, and the only thing you could properly think about was how pretty she looked when she was jealous.
The downturn of her lips, the way her blue eyes glinted with unfettered annoyance, blowing air out of her nose as she tilted her head to the side all dramatically.
“I wanted to see you,” you murmured, cupping her face just for her jaw to clench.
Torn between taking you at your word and questioning it.
“You know I would be here with you all the time if I could,” she softly said, despite how cold her stare still was. Her hands still held warmth for you though. Delicately picking up a slice of a cake she must’ve requested the chef make, bringing it up to your lips.
You opened up for her. Holding her stare as she pushed it through, taking a small bite as she watched you swallow it.
“I worry about you,” you confessed as she wiped the icing from the corner of your mouth.
“Don’t.”
You never thought Satoru could possibly ask too much of you.
But that was simply impossible.
And the longer you went without any answers, the more you found yourself starting to spiral. To unravel as you waited and waited for something to change.
What could you do?
It wasn’t like the court you’d never found any friends in would support what the two of you shared. Satoru had kept you completely clueless to what was happening outside of the two rooms you could be in, ignorant to how much trouble she might be in with no husband to wear the crown.
Truthfully, you had no plan.
No magical solution that struck you in the middle of the night.
But you wanted to help.
Peeking back out into the hallway a week after you first found her book, ready to prod and press her knight for more information on what you’d been missing, but to your surprise, the hallway was empty.
No sign of anyone as you slipped out, your heart thrumming loudly in your chest as you started down the familiar path to her office.
It was a short walk, but every step made your chest constrict, pulse pounding so loud you were sure someone had to hear until you were finally there, her office door cracked open just enough for you to steal a glimpse inside.
The knight was there, his brows knitted together tight as he looked through all the books lining the shelves, walking over to her desk and carefully looking through the documents on it with that permanent scowl of his.
Searching for something.
Oh no.
You had a feeling you knew exactly what he was hoping to find.
He was going to betray her, wasn’t he? Looking for proof of what she’d done
His hand reached for the drawer her notebook was in, and you were pushing the door open before he could discover it.
Your suspicions were confirmed with how straight he abruptly stood, acting as if he hadn’t just been snooping.
“What are you doing out of your room?” He snarled at you, his voice hoarse and harsh as you refused to tremble or back down.
“What are you doing in here?” You returned the question, throat constricting at the intensity of his glare.
You weren’t brave. Not nearly as strong or stubborn as Satoru.
It wasn’t like anyone would ever be intimidated by you.
But you would try for her.
He didn’t answer your question, just grinding his back molars as he stepped out from around the desk, starting to stomp over as if he planned to drag you out and toss you back into your room.
If he did that though, he might just come back and find precisely what he was looking for.
So while he started towards you, you walked the opposite way around to where he’d been, a lie slipping off your tongue like you were used to telling them, “I just wanted to grab some books I left in here.”
“Hurry up then,” he scoffed, biting his tongue, probably not pushing it so you wouldn’t go and tattle to Toru about him being in here.
He thought you were stupid.
Just a brainless fool who was only good for getting fingered and fucked.
Not batting an eye when you grabbed a couple books you’d set aside on Satoru’s desk before pulling open the drawer and grabbing her diary, sliding it in the middle of the pile as her knight impatiently looked outside the door.
She would notice it was gone.
And you would have to fess up, admit that you’d read it enough to know to take it.
You’d rather her be mad at you than to get caught for her crime.
Stoking the flames in the fireplace the second your guard half-pushed you back into the room you were supposed to be in, ripping out the incriminating pages first and using them for tender before tossing the rest of the book in.
Watching it go up in flames, ashes sputtering out as it turned to dust in front of your eyes while you paced the floor and planned out the speech you would give her.
Or would have given her had she actually returned for dinner.
The sun setting and the moon replacing it through your window as you waited and waited for her to come for you. Debating and drowning in your anxieties over what could be taking her so long, your eyes compelled back to the burning papers, using the fire poker to keep the flames going before you were finally forced to face the reality that Satoru might not be showing up tonight.
Climbing back under the freezing covers, the bed so much bigger without her there to curl up against.
It didn’t matter how silky the sheets were or how comfortable the mattress was.
You couldn’t sleep anymore when there wasn’t the scent of her perfume and the softness of her skin to comfort you.
Was she upset with you?
Had something awful happened to her?
To make everything worse, you started to hear a…commotion on the floor below you. Voices and the sound of things moving around, shouts and scuffles that only served to heighten your nerves.
You almost opened the door to go find out what was going on. Sneak out again to search for the truth, but every time your hand settled on the knob, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn it.
Ignorance could be bliss.
But the truth would come out sooner or later.
Curled up on the edge of your bed, hands clasped together as your eyes stuck to the door, shadows dancing across the floor as the sun rose once again.
When it opened again, you were immediately standing, wiping sweaty palms on your nightdress as your breath got stuck in your throat, a hot lump forming the moment Satoru actually walked through.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she softly greeted, exhaustion obvious in the dark circles betraying her beautiful face.
“What happened?” You asked, studying her features for some clue, heart slamming into your chest as you tried to figure out what the chaos beneath you could possibly be. What could’ve taken her so long to come to you.
“They discovered who killed our dearly departed king,” she said, a faint hint of amusement shimmering before she turned away to lock the door behind her.
“What?” Your throat closed up, the word coming out as a stunned squeak as your brain tried to add together everything you knew.
The person who killed Suguru was standing in front of you.
If they knew that, she would be on her way to the gallows.
Not turning around so you could undo her corset.
You automatically stepped forward, fingers trembling as you undid her dress out of habit.
“One of the knights slipped poison into his wine,” Satoru apathetically huffed, as if it was a waste of time to even talk about it.
“One of the knights?” You echoed, reaching for something you didn’t know if you were confident enough to confront her about right as you unlaced the final part. Satoru stepped out of it with ease, her perfect body on display as she twisted back around to look over her shoulder at you. “Which one?”
“Does it matter?” She scoffed, arching up an eyebrow, clearly unhappy with your question.
But you still had one more left.
“Why?”
Her hesitation to answer gave you a different one.
“You know as well as I do what he was like,” she said, a little too snappy as she squinted at you.
But the moment the words were out there, you could see she regretted her response, her fingers skimming over your waist and squeezing you tenderly. “It’s all over now.”
You stared at her.
Satoru was lying to you.
You didn’t know why it surprised you. Couldn’t explain why it left you so shocked, staring at her in silence as you struggled to find something to say that wouldn’t give away what you knew.
“The knight was executed over night,” she added, your heart stilling as you realized the toll had risen to two.
But could you be upset when the other option was one, or maybe both of you taking their place?
“How did-”
“He stole something of mine,” Satoru muttered, and you knew what must’ve happened without her offering anything else.
She must have returned to her office first and realized her journal was gone.
And there were only two people she trusted enough to have access to the office it was kept in.
So she pinned the blame on her knight and beheaded him before he could speak about any of its contents or piece together what she’d done for you.
“He didn’t,” you breathed, your lungs shrinking as you struggled to get any more air in.
One of you had to be honest here.
She blinked at you, not comprehending what you were saying.
“What?”
“It was me,” you admitted, stiffly shrugging your shoulders. “I saw him searching your office. And, I, um, took it and threw it in the hearth.”
“You burned my-?”
“I read it,” you swallowed hard, that hard lump still there, still choking you up as you avoided her stare. “Before. I know-”
“No,” she cut you off, grabbing your chin and forcing you to tilt your face up to meet hers. “You, you were supposed to stay out of this.”
You knew in an instant all she wanted was to protect you. To shield you from the nasty politics and petty games these awful people liked to play.
But you couldn’t stand the idea of her doing anything at the expense of herself.
“You should have told me from the start,” you insisted. “I-I would’ve-”
“Your hands were supposed to be clean.” And your head empty.
Did she think you wouldn’t have loved her if you knew what she had done?
And now you had helped her conceal it.
“We could have-” You started, about to tell her that as long as you were together, you could work out the rest.
“If I told you before, you would have said there was another way,” Satoru solemnly said, her eyes narrowing as her fingers tightened around your wrist.
You couldn’t really argue that. You would have said precisely that. Told her it was too risky. Tried to dissuade her from taking drastic measures and attempting to convince her to run away with you.
You used to wish that the two of them would find a way to work it out. That you could find a happily ever after where everyone would get along.
What would your reaction have been if she touched your face and told you that she was going to murder her husband?
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” She pressed when you took too long to reply, her fingers pinching your chin to draw your attention back to right now. “I was not about to let you carry his child.”
It wasn’t like you could have hers.
Even if you’d do that in a heartbeat.
“He would have just kept putting babies in you and pushing me away from you” Satoru hissed, jealousy and anger rolling into her raw voice. “I couldn’t-”
“I know,” you interrupted her this time, softening as you leaned into her.
“Now it’s just us again,” she whispered conspiratorially, pressing a clipped-short nail against the tip of your nose.
How were you supposed to be mad about that?
You held your breath though, still searching for anything that could stand in the way.
“These people, they are not going to just let you rule forever,” you whispered, thinking about what could befall both of you if her treason was ever discovered. Sure, she’d found someone to blame, but there must be other loose ends. Whoever she obtained the poison from. The subjects who never supported her as queen to start with. “If they find out or-”
Satoru pressed her finger against your mouth, stopping you while you spiralled.
“Princess,” she murmured, clicking her tongue as her initial emotions swirled into that cocky confidence of hers. Pride returning as she realized that you weren’t going to condemn or curse her, but that you were concerned for her. “Don’t you know me?”
You hoped that meant she had already considered every side of your fear and took care of every conceivable problem.
“I love you,” you offered instead, your voice trembling as you put your trust in her hands.
“His throne is mine,” she smiled softly. And his concubine.
“What if someone else challenges it?” You pressed.
“There’s going to be a baby born with dark hair and purple eyes in a few months. His child. The mother doesn’t want the child, so I made a deal. She gets her own estate. We will get our heir,” She explained, speaking in short sentences like it would make the revelation easier to swallow.
“Someone else was pregnant with his child?” You breathed, taken aback.
When the fuck did he have the time to plow someone else’s field when he pretended to be so preoccupied with you?
It was wrong, especially when it wasn’t like your heart had ever wanted him, but it wounded your own pride a little bit at the idea you hadn’t been enough for him.
You supposed you should’ve suspected it, if Satoru wasn’t enough for him either.
“You weren’t his only-”
“Whore,” you finished for her, the word coming out a little strangled as you saw the situation for what it was.
All you’d been was a warm body to Suguru.
You were both disposable, to be used and discarded when his interests drifted.
“We’ll tell everyone the baby is yours,” she added, as if she had already planned every last detail out. “And until the child is old enough, I can still rule as a regent.”
Was that why she’d been hiding you away?
Faking a pregnancy instead of keeping you prisoner?
“Do you think they’ll accept a child they think is a bastard?” You asked, needing her to say yes.
To assure you that your fears were unfounded.
That she’d take care of you the same way she always had.
“I will give them no other option.”
When she spoke like that, that cold look icing over her eyes as she steeled her resolve, you knew she would. That she would do anything necessary to make sure of it.
“And what? We live happily ever after?”
Say yes.
You needed it. Craved her confirmation.
Looking up at her as your trembling fingers reached out to trace her waist, holding your breath as she nodded slowly.
“Forever.”
Your angel was standing in front of you promising you everything you ever wanted.
How were you ever meant to say no?
Even if she would lead you straight to Hell.
“You can be my queen,” Satoru murmured, giving you that pretty puppy dog pout you always fell for, placated as she leaned down to leave a soft kiss to your forehead like it was all settled.
Regret still lingering in your body as you ached to actually be that for her. Wishing your circumstances had been different from the beginning.
That you were never cursed to be so far below her, and in the body of a woman that could never wear a matching ring or recite wedding vows to her.
“I wish I was a-”
“Do not,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “You are perfect precisely the way you are.”
“Then why don’t you let me love you like you love me?” You asked, almost immediately annoyed at yourself for sounding a little whiney.
But you wanted to be inside of her.
To feel her squeeze and squirm around you, to hear her dissolve into messy whimpers and whines because of you.
“W-what do you mean?” She stuttered, her white brows arching up high as her lips got stuck in the sort of ‘o’ that made you itch to slip your tongue inside of her.
“I want to make you feel good,” you simply said, cheeks heating up as you swallowed the spit pooling in your mouth.
You had never seen Satoru nervous before.
Her mouth opened and clamped shut a few times before she started trying to ramble off reasons that she was better at giving, but you were sick of them.
Sick of all the stupid things that had kept you apart.
All the years you could’ve spent in her warmth that you missed out on. Mourning what both of your lives could’ve been if you were born as other people.
But she had sworn you were enough for her.
Was it wrong to want to show her how she was far more than enough for you?
“I-I just like the way you taste and-”
You kissed her mid-sentence, shutting her up before she could stall this any longer.
Grabbing her this time, guiding her back to the bed one step at a time, tangling your fingers in her soft, silky hair as your tongue slipped past her lips, tracing the sharp tips of her canines until her back hit the mattress.
And god, the moment you climbed on top of her, straddling her soft waist and pausing to peel your nightdress over your head, you hated yourself for not doing it sooner.
For missing out on the view you were currently taking in, eyes slowly drifting over the swell of her breasts, the pink peaked buds of her nipples as she sucked in uneven breaths, staring up at you with those dazzling blue eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, the words ripped from you as you struggled to keep yourself steady.
It felt like you were defiling something holy.
Her sacred body below you, your fingertips skimming over her pale stomach, swirling slowly across her nipple as you bit your bottom lip.
If she was an altar, a god, you’d pray to her every day.
Swear your faith and undying devotion, shower her with offerings and pray for just a sliver of her favor.
You couldn't believe she was yours.
“I’m a virgin,” Satoru suddenly blurted out, your fingers freezing as you drifted them back down below her belly button.
“Oh,” you blinked.
You suppose it should’ve been obvious.
But you had never really thought too hard about it.
You never exactly prized your virtue. But hers was different.
Special.
“Do you want me to stop?” You tentatively asked, about to climb back off of her before her hand gripped onto your hip to hold you there.
“No,” she answered a little too quickly.
So you came up with another solution to, ah, quell her nerves.
The ribbons you used to tie her hair with now strewn all over the bed, a long one in your hands as you adjusted her head forward.
“I’ll be gentle,” you promised.
Even though she practically jumped at every tiny touch you delivered to her skin, shivering at just a brush of your thumb over her nipple and when you leaned close enough for your breath to ghost across her throat.
You wrapped the ribbon around her eyes, excitement tingling between your fingers as you fixed the silk ribbon into its proper place, tying a pretty bow around the back, careful not to get her hair caught in it.
“Can you see?” You asked, humming softly with satisfaction as you lifted her wrists up next, positioning them above her hair as she writhed in the sheets.
“No,” she echoed, her voice shaking a little no matter how cocky she still tried to sound.
“Good.”
You tied her wrists next, watching the way she tested how strong the knot was by flexing them as you smiled to yourself.
“You know, you’re so mean,” you murmured, tracing your fingertip across her sharp features, brushing your thumb over her defined cheekbones before drifting down to her soft lips. “It’s only fair I get to play with you too.”
“I’m never mean to you,” Satoru huffed, and you were a little tempted to grab another ribbon and gag her with it for playing dumb.
“I hate it when you hide things from me,” you muttered, shaking your head with a soft tut of your tongue.
“I do it because-”
“You love me?” You asked, slowly shuffling down her body, pressing kiss after kiss across her heaving breasts down her slender abdomen.
Hoisting one of her thighs over your shoulder, sucking in a breath before you leaned in to leave on the most sensitive spot on her body.
“S-so much,” her cute voice cracked, nearly crumbling at the soft contact.
All her strength quickly melted into a puddle of pure need, her hips bucking up when you shifted down to start sucking on it, a gorgeous whimper escaping her – and immediately making you greedy for more.
You never thought Satoru would be at your mercy.
Her pretty pale body shivering, perfect skin glistening with sweat as she shuddered for you, her soft thighs trying to close around your head as you dragged your tongue down across her soaked cunt.
You didn’t think anything could ever taste so goddamn good.
No better than a man, wiggling your own hips down into the mattress to chase friction you couldn’t find, pushing your tongue in-and-out as her muscles twitched and tensed beneath your fingertips.
Suguru had never gotten you half as wet as her.
Never worked you up like this, left you soaked and squirming without even being touched. Your thighs pressing together to push down the heat stirring in your core, your pulse pounding so hard you nearly couldn’t hear her whining over it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I-I-”
You knew Satoru loved to chatter.
But once you were inside her it was like she physically couldn’t shut up, stammering and stuttering out curses, straining against the binds on her wrists and whining about not being able to see you.
“P-please, wanna see you, want to, oh god,” she begged, the beautiful arch of her back nearly breaking your resolve as heat soared straight up to cloud your head.
And before you could stop yourself, you were twisting around, angling your hips down to put your own pussy perfectly above her mouth, shutting her up by giving her something to lick and suck instead.
“Oh, fuck, ngh-”
Her words traded in for another heated moan as she shoved her tongue inside you, swirling it in with a desperation you found yourself quick to succumb to.
It really wasn’t fair that she was so good at everything you tried.
But you still refused to completely lose yourself, working harder to make her cum first, slipping your thumb up to her clit, only pulling off to start cooing and condescendingly coaxing her into coming undone, copying the same methods she so expertly pulled on you.
“C-come on,” you murmured, dragging your thumb in a slow circle as she shifted to suck on your clit just right, driving you right to the brink with her eagerness to give you everything she had. “Show me how much you love me.”
Preferably by falling to pieces on your tongue.
Sweat practically dripping off her, her moans reverberating through you as her body began to shake. On the very brink of breaking, pushed closer and closer as she started to cry out your name.
Her soft voice was music to your ears, a soft purr that made all the knots in your stomach pull tight instead of making them curdle like Suguru’s sometimes had.
You slipped your fingers inside her, feeling the way her walls squeezed down on them, trying to keep you in as you worked her oversensitive bud. She made a cute little squeak, her tongue lolling out as she began to babble again, “S’too much, I-I-”
“Shhh,” you murmured, pressing your tongue down as she spasmed and whimpered desperately at the sensation. “Can’t you cum for me?”
You glanced back over your shoulder to see the sight of her nodding hard and fast, the blindfold slightly crooked and her hands clawing at the pillow as she chased her climax.
“Put that pretty tongue of yours to better use,” you softly suggested, ignoring the initial discomfort at your reversed roles as you grinded your hips down on her face.
Apparently, your Toru could be a good listener too when she tried.
Doing her best to devote her tongue to you right up until the moment she couldn’t hold herself together anymore, cumming with a cry into your clit as your fingers found a sweet spot right below her cervix, pressing on it as you teased her swollen bud with the tip of your own pink muscle.
She was trembling, her legs twitching and toes curling as she let out devastated little whines that it wasn’t fair, squirming as you cleaned her up, enjoying the way she whimpered every single time your tongue dragged over her skin.
You could spend eternity buried between her thighs.
Or with hers between yours.
So what if it might be too much to ask?
She would make the universe give it to you anyway.
ε✿з
“My pretty princess.”
And her not terribly ugly son.
Satoru traced your face with her fingers, sighing to herself as the morning sun kissed your face, bathed you in beautiful warmth – oh, and the baby in your arms. Both of you snoozing softly, drool leaking out on your nightdress as you slept on your side, blissfully unaware of the outside world.
You made a pretty mother. Loved the little bastard Satoru did her best to tolerate.
Cradling an infant that neither of you had to carry, kissing his forehead and proudly showing him off to the other members of the court after he was born.
He’d never know he wasn’t yours. No one would.
Satoru would make sure of it.
His mother had been more than happy to take the estate. Especially when she knew the alternative would be Satoru taking her tongue to ensure she’d never talk.
She was still keeping tabs though. Just to be safe.
To make sure that this happy little family of hers would stay that way.
The nobles had protested. Insisted that she had no place as queen with Suguru dead. But his son, with his soft purple eyes and dark hair, well, that was enough to buy her eighteen more years.
Of course, there were still whispers.
Rumors swirled that she quickly snuffed out, either with quiet compensation or cold force. So what if a few more people had to be poisoned to protect your life together?
Rewriting history hadn’t been that hard.
No one needed to remember how much she hated Suguru. Or how rocky the marriage had been.
She got to be the mourning widow. The gracious wife still honoring her deceased husband by letting his bastard child be the heir. Raising him with a concubine instead of throwing both of them out.
That was how she’d be remembered.
“Good morning,” you yawned, slowly cracking your eyes open as you smiled at her.
“Sleep well?” She inquired, tempted to pick up the baby and place him back in his cradle so she could be cuddled instead.
You still had nightmares sometimes. Ones where you’d thrash around and she’d have to scoop him up and call for a wet nurse to take him until morning.
Waking you up to soothe you, stroking your hair and pretending not to know she was the reason for them.
And yet, you looked at her like she hung the sun in the sky and shined bright enough to chase away all the shadows. To bury the skeletons somewhere you’d never see them.
“Mhm,” you hummed, affectionately glancing between his chubby cheeks up to Satoru’s persistent pout as she puffed air into them.
“Have any attention left for me?” She pleaded, craning her neck over them to dramatically wait for you to press a gentle kiss to her nose.
your big boyfriend always leaves you sore between your legs 𐦍
fluff/ light smut
you thought you’d be used to having a big boyfriend by now — six foot three, body sculpted by the gods, dick big and heavy (and he knew it).
the morning after he’d fucked you stupid, you’re used to having a little tenderness between your legs. it was normal to you. expected.
that’s not to say it wasn’t close to agonising sometimes.
"y’okay, sweets?" satoru asks as you wake, cuddling up to you as soon as he catches a glimpse of discomfort on your face.
he presses a kiss to your shoulder, watching you clutch your lower stomach. "mhm, just sore," you reply.
you were a little more than sore, but he didn’t need to know that.
satoru nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, then rolls you over so you’re flat on the bed. "my poor baby. lemme see."
there wasn’t an ounce of mock-sympathy in his voice — just pure love and affection.
you let him pull your shorts down, placing them beside you. he kisses your knee before parting your legs, gaze focused on your pussy. it’s like you could still feel him down there, the soreness and weight of him still lingering.
satoru hums as he parts your folds, pussy still slightly puffy and red, most of the pain on the inside near your cervix. "m’sorry, princess," he says, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your clit.
"mm, i have such a big, mean boyfriend" you respond with a faint smile.
satoru giggles, then slides your shorts back onto you, gathering you in his strong arms to give you all his love and attention. "soooo mean," he says, kissing you all over your face with exaggerated ‘mwah’ sounds.
after cuddling you for a little while, he grabs you your heating pad, placing it on your lower stomach before drawing you a hot bath. and of course, he orders you copious amounts of food and unnecessary gifts.
"you don’t have to do all this, toru. i’m okay," you say, watching him saunter back over to you with that infamous casual confidence, gathering you in his arms and walking you over to the bathroom.
"shhh," he hushes, sitting you on the ledge of the bath and helping you undress, "always gonna take care of my princess."
he pauses for a second, allowing a moment of silence before breaking it again. "suchhhhh a shame i have such a massive di-"
you cut him off with a glare as he climbs behind you into the bath, shortly after setting you down in it.
You are in a loveless marriage with your husband of six years. Until he breaks the one rule you both religiously followed. No mistresses allowed. On any side. Surprisingly you don’t run straight to divorce, instead into arms of an overworked divorce lawyer.
Monday’s groceries, Tuesday is meal prep, Wednesday is family dinner— always with his family, Thursday is almost always a publicity outing, and Friday? Friday’s laundry day.
These are things you would’ve never payed attention to prior to getting married, yet here you were marking them on your calendar, folding a grown man’s clothes. Shit that you wouldn’t be caught dead with years ago.
It’s Thursday again, which means suffocating confrontations disguised as conversations.
You smile at yourself in the mirror, you’re in a black, halter dress, a little bit cinched on the waist to show your figure, but still modest enough.
Behind you, your husband fixes his cuff links, lazy fuck keeps glancing up at you from the mirror, waiting for you to notice him struggling and lend a hand.
Instead, you keep looking your reflection, trying on different earrings to see which one fit. Then, you settle on a pair of gold earrings, humming as you put them on.
Behind you, his gaze lingers, heavy and unmoving, its that look he gives you when he’s about to say some bullshit.
Like now, “Don’t you think this is a little much for a family dinner?” He says, eyes roaming over your hips. “Mom might not like it.”
You roll your eyes inwardly at the mention of the witch his mom.
Maybe the better adjective for her would be bitch. A nasty, snarky, hook nosed bitch, who couldn’t stop babying her thirty-something year old son.
You would think it was a TSA screening the way she would feel the need to squint her beady little eyes at you, searching for things about to pick at.
She said since your nails were always done, it must mean you never cooked for her son, even though he had more than enough money to afford a cook. She said you dress too scandalous, like you were supposed to put on a potato sack simply because you were married.
And the worst part? You took these critiques to heart. Gone were the days of you taking care of yourself and dressing for you, all because you were married.
Your fists clenched at your side. Those days of you dimming your shine for some man and his family were over.
Now you knew how to deal with people like this. Never give them anything to work with.
“Nope.” You replied cooly, popping the p as you grabbed a clutch off your extensive collection.
Bypassing him on your way out the walk-in closet, your heels clicking and clacking on the marbled floor.
“Where are you going?!” He called out, staring at you in disbelief.
“To the car, You can drive the other one and meet me there.” And with that, you were out, adjusting your shades as well.
———————————————————
Silence hung, heavy in the room. Your fork scrapes against the porcelain dish, and suddenly the previously downcast eyes have all shot to you.
You continue eating calmly, ignoring the pointed look your husband shoots you.
“Y/n,” he mumbles, a hand drifting off to squeeze your leg, pretending to be discreet, but his eyes stayed on his mother. “Please eat a little more quietly.”
You shake his leg off you, leaning over to scoop yourself some more pasta, completely disregarding everyone’s stares of horror.
Your eyes drift over to your mother in law, who sits at the end of the table. Still no reaction. Not even a look.
Not until you pick up a forkful of pasta to your lips, slurping unashamed, sauce getting all over your lips.
Bam! She slams her cup down on the table, red wine spilling everywhere, staining the napkins before her a deep crimson.
You look up at the sound, looking innocent as can be, “Is something wrong mom?”
At once, anger lashes out at you, “Don’t call me mom!”
Besides you, your husband immediately begins placating her, “Mo—
“No!” She says firmly, raising a hand up to stop him. Her eyes narrow back at you. “What an embarrassment it is to have you as a daughter-in law, you have no manners—
“Mom, calm—
“Stop interrupting me Jonas! She has no manners, no decorum, she is not fit to be your wife, or bear our family name!” She snaps, her voice trembling with a raw, uncontrollable anger.
It all enters in one ear and out, you were still keeping your composure.
“Y/n. Pour mom some more wine.” Jonas, your husband says next to you, still sucking up to his mother like a little coward.
You nod, picking up the bottle of wine— probably more expensive than any of your purses, and stand up, walking over to her.
As you walk close, her eyes stay fixed forward, hand holding her wine glass out for you to pour in.
Like you were some type of maid, she could order around with no care in the world.
All it takes is one tilt of the bottle, and a cute little, oops! from your glossed lips, and crimson red flows from the bottle down the base of her head.
Your father in law— who had been radio silent the entire time stands up, furiously, his face redder than the wine.
Even your husband gets up, slamming the table, steam practically oozing out his ears.
Once the bottle is empty, you calmly set it down, grabbing your clutch and walking out the restaurant, listening to their enraged voices fade out with every step you took.
When you get back into your car, you can’t help but burst out laughing, grabbing yourself the outfit you had in the back and slipping it off, before you drove off.
———————————————————The buzz of the club is almost deafening around you. To others, it’s a turn off, it’s a reason for them to go to a bar instead, but to you, it’s everything you could ever want.
you walked in, pulling down on your tiny little sequenced skirt. You paired it up with a black, backless draped halter top, which showed more skin than it covered.
It had been so long since you walked inside a club, been so long since you set free and danced to your heart’s content.
That reputation clause had been more of a leash on you, hindering you from doing anything that you enjoyed.
No bars, no clubs, no drinking, moderate dressing, fuck he might as well’ve killed your social life.
Except he did. While you weren’t barred from speaking with your friends, you were barred from doing anything with them that you normally did.
Those bars and clubs, the drinks? All of it was done with them. So when you married your husband, it all got forcefully shoved off the table.
You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts.
Tonight was about you. About your fun, snd reclaiming your everything back.
Speaking of your friends, one of them, Tierra, pulls you into a tight embrace, early bawling her eyes out.
“Ohh, baby I missed you so much!” She whined, half dramatic, half serious.
It had been years since you guys got to hang out like this, not just for a shopping day, or a spa day with them, but dancing, just like the old days.
Another one of your friends, Laura, joins in—both the hug and the sentiment. “I can’t even be mad at you,” She sniffles, giggling.
One by one, everyone in the friend group joins in, turning the hug into a giant group hug.
You felt your eyes mist up, the warmth of your friends were so much more comforting than seeing their faces over FaceTime or simply texting them.
After a few minutes, all five of you girls separate, still wiping your eyes.
“But what happened to your husband? Wouldn’t he be mad you’re here?”
It dawns on you then that you still haven’t informed them about the whole cheating situation. It’s a far cry from the lack of fulter you had with them years ago. If you’re period was even a day late, if your doordash didn’t arrive on time, or maybe you picked your nose too hard, you would be so quick to tell them.
Rolling your eyes, you said, “That loser? Please. He cheated.”
A gasp escaped one of their mouths, then another, a range of disbelief and anger.
“ Cheated?”
“How could anyone cheat on you?”
Finally, Tierra asks the question that had been on everyone’s minds. “So what are you gonna do?”
You sip on the margarita in your hand, swirling the cup around. “Nothing.”
It’s funny how when you said nothing, your friends immediately knew what it meant.
You were going to do the absolute most.
ch1 here
i was rewatching attack on titan while doing this and the slurping pasta scene reminded me of Sasha stuffing her face. anyways Higuruma will be introduced in the next chapter 😏
You are in a loveless marriage with your husband of six years. Until he breaks the one rule you both religiously followed. No mistresses allowed. On any side. Surprising you don’t run straight to divorce, instead into arms of an overworked divorce lawyer.
You and your husband were never in love, neither was there much of a friendship between you two. But it was always a partnership, something of a mutual agreement, that you thought you both followed. You wanted money and stability, he wanted to keep his image and company together. To keep this act going, you both agreed on one big rule. No mistresses allowed.
But what happens when he breaks that promise?
It all started, or rather— you found out in the most cliche way possible. Because you’re fairly certain this has been going on long before you knew.
Atleast once a week, as stated by the clause, you had to bring him lunch. The rationale? It made his image look even better.
After all, what’s better than a good business man? A good business man with a loving wife.
You both knew that neither of you cared enough about eachother to consider this routine sacred, but you still dutifully chose to do it every week.
Now, you wonder if he was making you go through all that to uphold his image infront of his mistress.
Maybe that’s how he wooed her— because his looks aren’t anything to help with— by selling that ‘my marriage is amazing but you make me so fufilled’ bullshit. You felt blindsided, a partnership that you thought was beneficial to each party on equal parts, was really a scale ever tipped on his favor.
He got the perfect wife, perfect company, perfect reputation and even more perfect mistress.
Even if you never cooked those meals, only ordered take out and dumped them into a bento box, it was still effort rhat you put in. Effort that was rewarded by a million dollars sent to you every time you brought it.
To fulfill your part, of course.
So yes, you’re walking into his office that day with a little bit of attitude, you were at home, crocheting while catching up on Mormon Housewives.
Getting into his office wasn’t particularly different, or suspicious enough to set you off. However, looking back there were some signs.
Both this time and the last, when you walked into the building, it was as if every employee on the floor looked at you as if they knew something you didn’t.
A head-shake there, a snicker here, and being the woman that you are, you confront it. Only to be met with apologies, but not the explanation you were looking for.
It only gets worse from there, because when you walked into inside his actual office on the first floor, your hand rests on the door knob, ready to pull it open—
Until you start to really listen to what you’re hearing.
Are those? Moans?
The moans are definitely from a female, but you recognize thag weezing anywhere.
It’s from that loser of a husband.
You’re not jealous of the woman he’s with. There’s really nothing to be jealous of. It’s hard to imagine she’s getting much pleasure with the worm he was packaging, or his inability to keep his worm up for more than one round.
And even that round was hell, he’s just wheezing in your ear, hairy chest tickling your back as he delivers weak thrust after weak ass thrusts.
So no jealousy there.
The first emotion you felt wasn’t sadness— not exactly. It was more of a slow cooking anger, every single moan and wheeze that fell from their lips on the other side of the door, only fueled that anger.
The moans themselves weren’t what made you mad, it was how loud they were. It implied that they did not care who heard, everyone probably already knew, and that’s why they looked at you like that, and this wasn’t the first time.
Your eyes narrowed at the polished wood door infront of you. Half of you wanted to kick the door down and raise hell in the entire establishment. It’s unbelievable how you could work this hard to fulfill his little clause of public image bs, and there he was undoing all your work, breaking the biggest rule you had for each other.
It was frustrating, to say the least, to adhere so much to rules with more care than the person who made them up.
The other half of you, maybe the more sensible one, wanted you to consider the money that flowed in. Every week you receiving tens of millions, and all you had to do was send a text. What would it really take for you to just ignore these incidents?
As long as his little affair didn’t interrupt your flow of money, who were you to care?
Besides, what’s a rule if it wasn’t meant to be broken? If he wants to break the very rules he made, fine.
Two can play at that game. Only, you intend to play it harder.
And when you’ve played to your heart’s content, you’ll take advantage of the subtext under the no mistress rule.
fluff. part of my trueform!sukuna x his favourite chubby concubine series. more here
you’ve been scratching sukuna’s back for what felt like hours now — delicately tracing every tattoo, softly dragging your fingernails nails down his skin as he lays sprawled out across the sheets.
you’re almost certain you heard him purr at one point like a relaxed cat. this was the most docile you’d ever seen him. you almost regret suggesting this idea to him at all.
when you try to stop, or move even an inch, he grumbles lowly, using one of his hands to reach around and grab your wrist — positioning your hand back where he wants it.
"i did not tell you to stop," he says, burying his face back into the pillows below him, feeling you continue your chore ministrations.
you sigh, then smile a little, wondering when sukuna became so needy. it was endearing, in all honesty. "my hand is tired, kuna," you whine, slowing your movements.
he shifts, turning his head just enough to glare at you in offence. "continue," he demands, clearly too comfortable to care how your hand was feeling.
it wasn’t as if sukuna had a small back, either. there was a lot of ground to cover, broad and spacious, packed with muscle that flexed with every movement.
with time, you learned to alternate between hands, switching when one got tired. of course, he complained at the millisecond your hand was away from his back so you could switch over.
eventually, this became a daily thing. as you settle into bed next to him, he lays himself down on his stomach, shirtless, glaring at you expectantly. "again?…" you ask, knowing you’ll be scratching his back until he drifts off to sleep.
"scratch."
additionally, he gets more demanding with his needs every time, mumbling "lower, woman" or "harder" — humming in contentment when you oblige.
like you had a choice.
oftentimes, when you’re feeling extra sweet, you dip your head down, leaving gentle kisses down his spine — making his body twitch. "how’s that?" you whisper gently, smoothing over the spots you kiss with your fingers.
you smile as sukuna relaxed further, humming to himself, tired and satisfied enough to give you a small amount of praise, (in his own way).
"…i do not dislike it."
you softly drag your fingernails all the way from his tailbone up to his neck, threading your fingers through the soft pink hair at his nape — pulling a low groan from him.
it was intimate, sensual. you did it a few more times for…good measure.
sukuna often asks you to keep your fingernails somewhat long as he prefers the sensation, secretly asking uraume to hide any item you may use to to trim them down.
that was the extent of his obsession. just wait until he found out about massages.
summary: once in a lifetime you'll switch bodies with your soulmate and see the world through their eyes.
sukuna is initially frustrated when he's plunged into darkness in the body of a weak and blind woman, only to discover that there's more to her than he was expecting, leaving him on a mission to locate the shogi-playing courtesan whose soul called out to his.
word count: 11k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, soulmate au, heian era, initially rude sukuna, soft!sukuna, true form sukuna, courtesan reader, sickness, blindness, depiction of violence and death, happy ending, hurt/comfort, honestly its mainly fluff, devoted sukuna, piv, cunnilingus
a/n: after doing my satoru soulmate au i desperately wanted to do one for sukuna so here it is! inspired somewhat by komugi and meruem in hxh and ALSO by lakan and fengxian in apothecary diaries (as someone requested that from me!)
At one point in every person’s life, they will awaken in the body of another.
They will spend their day seeing through strange eyes, living out hours as a person they may have never met, trapped within their new form until sleep takes them and they are released back into their own body.
Those meagre hours are the only chance a person will have to find their other other half, to learn all they can about the body they’ve awoken in. There’s no second chance, no opportunity to swap for a second time.
If one cannot locate their soulmate after the day they’ve spent as them, they can find no further help. All they can hope for, is that they might stumble across their destined lover by mere chance one day.
Or, that their beloved did a better job than they did at piecing together the puzzle.
Sukuna found himself in another’s body in his mid-twenties, awakening one morning in complete darkness, even though he’d been certain his eyes were open. It was a strange feeling at first, a resignation to a suspicion he’d held all his life that there was no destined person for him, giving in to the belief that he’d spend a day floating in nothingness with no other half for his soul to cling to.
His assumption was broken swiftly, at the realisation that he still held some manner of awareness even if his sight was impaired. There was a breeze blowing against his body, chatter sounding off in the distance, and soft sheets were pressing up against skin which surely wasn’t his.
This person, whoever they were, had a body that was exhausted. He ached in places he’d never ached before, his shoulders and upper back straining, like their owner had been carrying a weight beyond their capability. He felt desperately weak in that form, suddenly aware that he only had a human number of limbs to control, and lacked the strength and size he was used to commanding.
In the darkness clouding his vision, he was surprised to find that the blackness wasn’t as deep as he’d originally thought, able to make out fuzzy shapes in the dark which he could only assume made up his surroundings. His hand reached for his eyes, setting his lips into a grim line at the confirmation they were open.
His destined lover was blind.
Disappointment settled into his chest. He had never taken much stock in soulmates in the first place, didn’t really believe in love, but this just furthered his confirmation that the whole matter was a farce. He found respect for the strong - strength was the only thing that truly mattered to him, and yet here he was, in the body of a blind woman.
A feeble little thing hardly able to fend for herself.
What good was she to a man like Sukuna?
A knock on the door startled him. “Are you awake? The madam wants me to help you get ready.”
Sukuna said nothing, trying to figure out why it felt like your body wanted to draw in on itself, your pulse quicking in a seemingly innate reaction to the voice at the door.
“Please, I know you’ve been ill but he’s been calling every day for the past week, the madam doesn’t want to keep him waiting any longer. He’s been bringing forth all manner of threat, and if you’re not careful he’ll buy you out. I know that isn’t what you want. Just let me tend to you and allow him a visit. Keep his temper at bay.”
Sukuna frowned, attempting to piece together what was happening. It was hard without the visual clues of his surroundings, but based on the snippet of conversation he concluded that you were likely a courtesan of some form. Once again, his view of you, and the soulmate system in general, dropped through the floor.
Blind and a whore.
Perfect.
“One moment.” He called out, taken aback by the lovely feminine voice that fell from his lips. It was a soft, delicate sound, one which wouldn’t sound out of place accompanied with a harp. He found himself shocked at how much he enjoyed it, considering saying something else just to hear it again.
Finding the door proved to be a more difficult task than he’d been expecting. He’d already stumbled standing up from your bed, thrown off by his lack of vision and by feet that were ridiculously small compared to what he was used to. His centre of gravity felt all wrong, and his body felt generally unbalanced without his lower set of arms.
Moving at a snail's pace, he made it across the room, impressed that he didn’t run into anything on his journey over. He was grateful for the shadowy outlines present in your visionless gaze, certain that the situation would be made harder without even that as a guide.
Fumbling for the handle, he slid open the door. “Morning. Oh honey, you look like a ghost.” A hand pressed against his skin, and he was ushered over to another part of the room, grateful for the guidance. There was the sound of a chair being moved. “Take a seat.”
Sukuna hesitated, not quite sure where the chair was. He reached out nonchalantly with his hand, trying to feel for it while the other woman’s focus was elsewhere, seemingly rifling through a bag of something. Able to just about make out a black splodge in the centre of his vision, Sukuna took a seat, only to thud down onto the floor.
It hurt. It hurt significantly more than pain Sukuna was used to enduring. He’d experienced all manner of injury - he’d had his blood and guts pouring out onto the floor in the midst of a fight, but somehow this was worse. How fragile was this body of yours? He was glad that he wasn’t born as some weak human, grateful that the abominable aspects of his body increased his strength rather than weakened it.
How could you live like this?
“My lady?” The woman seemed immediately panicked, reaching down and easily hoisting you up by the arm, aiding Sukuna onto the chair. “I’m sorry, you usually tell me you don’t need assistance, I wasn’t expecting-” she cut herself off for a moment, leaving Sukuna in silence and struggling to read the room with no visual cues. “You don’t seem like yourself at all this morning. You’re being very quiet.”
Sukuna said nothing, certain that he could hear the hint of a smile in the woman’s tone.
It was said that when soulmates swapped bodies, you could not under any circumstance tell someone that you were a different inhabitant to usual, else the spell would be broken and you’d both be immediately sent home.
It was an option Sukuna had contemplated the moment the woman walked in, eager to return to his own healthy form. However, he was also a man of great curiosity and it wasn’t like he had much going on at his estate that day anyway. So he opted for silence, figuring he’d at least see, or hear, how the day played out.
There was no harm in that.
Regardless, the woman had seemingly sensed it immediately based on her sudden change of demeanor, but being likely as aware of the rules as Sukuna was, she kept her suspicions silent.
“It's Officer Sugawara who’s set to see you today,” she explained, soft hands running through your hair with a comb, giving Sukuna a shiver of pleasure. “You usually play shogi with the guy for a while and let him get drunk. He’s a proud man who’s desperate for a legitimate win, so you always give him your best and he refuses to give up until he’s too pissed to think anymore. So be on your best game, or he might want to pass his time in another way.”
The warning was clear and Sukuna found himself disgusted. If that man tried to lay a single hand on you while he was inhabiting your body, he’d make sure Sugawara wouldn’t walk out of the establishment alive.
Fortunately, Sukuna was an avid shogi player. He held a great love for the game and was self-assured where his skill was concerned. No one in his estate could beat him, so he was certain he could beat some Officer of the Shogun.
Although, he’d never played it blind - a fact that mildly concerned him.
He hoped the pieces were skillfully made with deep indents, else he’d be completely lost.
“Even though you’re usually talkative with me, you’re not all that chatty with regulars, so it’ll be fine if you stay quiet. On account of you not feeling yourself and all,” she said with a knowing giggle.
It took an ungodly amount of time for that woman to get you ready, and Sukuna wondered how you could bear experiencing such a thing day after day. It seemed such a waste to have so much effort devoted to doing your hair and make-up, and dressing you up, when you couldn’t even see the end result.
For all you knew you could look like a clown.
But Sukuna quickly became certain that wasn’t the case when he was led into another room, your helper grasping his arm in a steadying manner and making sure he was settled down on a pillow before introducing him to a man sitting opposite him. Sugawara wasted no time with greetings, letting out a gasp of awe at your radiant appearance and reaching out to kiss your hand.
Sukuna wanted to reel away at the feeling but remained still all the same. He hoped he didn’t have too much of a scowl on his face.
Even if he didn’t have any interest in you, he didn’t really want to ruin the life of some random blind girl. He loved cruelty, but even for him that felt like an unnecessary slight to a person who was supposed to hold the other half of his heart.
“You look gorgeous. Not sickly at all, might I add. I hope the madam hasn’t been telling lies.”
You were sick - outside of the blindness - Sukuna could feel it. At first he’d brushed off your frailty as something normal for puny little humans, but since rising from your bed he’d become aware that your quivering legs, aching bones and hummingbird heart were far from normal.
“I haven’t been well,” he said simply.
“Oh you poor thing, it's always the most beautiful ones who suffer the most.”
Sukuna found himself wondering what you looked like. He had a vague knowledge of Official Sugawara - he wasn’t an ugly man, certainly not one lacking in prospects by any means. He was powerful in his position in the government, and wasn’t the type who would visit some woman out of pity.
You must’ve been genuinely gorgeous to earn such affection from him.
It was a shame Sukuna would never know.
He wouldn’t look for you once he was back in his own body. He’d move on with his life and that would be that, leaving this day as nothing more than some distant dream.
The games of shogi went by quickly, and Sukuna found that it was easy to slip into your body without arousing suspicion. Once he’d gotten over the original barrier of having to feel each piece for their indents as he picked them up, he fell easily into the flow of it all.
This man across from him seeked little conversation once the games had started, and Sukuna was pleased at how well he was playing that afternoon. He didn’t let the man win once and, as your attendant had mentioned, Suguwara filled himself up with more and more drink. It felt nice to play someone outside of his estate, most of his servants were too afraid to face Sukuna in any sort of test.
It was equally nice to completely destroy a government official with his skill. He was certain this man was having the worst game of his entire life, unaccustomed to this treatment from the lovely courtesan he’d frequent.
But it was at the end of the seventh game, when Sukuna was feeling at his highest, that a disastrous hit would come to his ego.
“You’re really off your game today. I see you really aren’t feeling well,” Sugawara said. There was the sound of shuffling fabric, as if the man had leant forward.
“What?” Sukuna asked, the low disbelief coming out strange in your small voice.
“Your plays are much sloppier than usual. It feels like you’re going easy on me, given you usually destroy me before I can even think about what to do next. Today you’ve been giving me proper games. I don’t like it. You know I hate being pitied.”
Sukuna had to stop his mouth from falling agape.
He wasn’t playing bad games by any means, on the contrary, he was certain that he was playing better than he had in a while, happy to have a new opponent for once. Was this man really saying that you, the normal you, was more skilled at shogi than he was? He really found that hard to believe.
What would some blind courtesan know of tactics?
“Perhaps you’ve simply improved,” Sukuna mumbled bitterly, unwilling to accept that your mastery was greater than his.
Sugawara laughed. “How polite of you, my dear. I can assure you that isn’t the case, and we both know it.” There was some shuffling, and Sukuna sensed that the man was climbing to his feet. It was frustrating to have such limited vision, and he was glad to know that he’d wake up the following day able to see the world once more - he couldn’t imagine living like that all the time. “I’ll leave you to rest. When I return in a few days you best have returned to form, or perhaps the nature of our meetings will need to change.”
A heavy hand rested on your shoulder, wet and clammy against the silk you were draped in. Sukuna wasn’t sure if the disgust was born from his own thoughts on the matter, or from an impulsive response from your body. From your attendant’s words it was clear that you would never sleep with the man, likely keeping your shogi skills sharp to ensure he never won.
Once he was gone, Sukuna sat there in silence, thinking on the man’s parting words.
Were you really so talented?
Part of him wanted to convince himself that he’d been playing worse than usual on account of not being able to see the board, making it difficult for him to think out moves in advance, taking more time than normal while he grazed the pieces with his fingers.
But deep in his soul he knew that wasn’t the case.
He’d played expertly, and still that man knew his opponent wasn’t the real you. All on account of how amateur Sukuna’s ability had seemed compared to yours.
And as his day drew to a close in your body, he realised that he had to know. He had to play you, had to see firsthand just how dramatically your skill exceeded his. He wouldn’t believe it until he’d seen it.
The soulmate thing didn’t matter.
But he needed to meet with you all the same.
Just to sate his interest. That was all.
—
Months had passed since the day you’d swapped with your soulmate. Since the morning you’d awoken to a world of light of colour you’d never seen before, and would never see again.
It was a day you’d never be able to forget - the image of the grand estate you’d awoken in seared permanently into your mind, just like the face of your soulmate who had stared back at you in a bronze mirror. You’d gazed upon his body for longer than you should admit to, wondering for a brief moment if you’d misunderstood how humans looked.
That thought didn’t remain for long. It took no expert to understand that the man you’d been paired with was something unique - the very four armed monster who had half of Japan living in fear.
And as such, you wished you could forget your experience in his body, wished you could see anything but his oddly charming face, because your promised beloved was a monster of the highest calibre. But with only one singular day of vision under your belt, what you’d seen wasn’t so easily displaced, and you found yourself thinking of him often with a longing that you knew to be wrong.
You had told no one of the experience, not even your handmaid, who had outright asked what your body swap experience had been like, what your soulmate had been like, claiming that whoever they were had presented themselves as rather reserved when possessing your body. You’d brushed her off with a shrug, claiming him to be some soldier and nothing more.
No one could know the truth. If they knew you to have any link to such a terrible man they might view you as an associate, and someone deserving of death for something you hadn’t asked for.
The workings of fate seemed strange to you. Was it not enough punishment to be born blind? Why would you also be paired with a monster who seemed to view the human race with general disdain? You were certain he cared little for love, his servant had made that clear when you were in his body, so any hopes of having a soulmate had been stolen from you as a result of this pairing.
Part of you wondered if a man so vile as him might even take things a step further and track you down to put an end to your life, insulted by fate to suggest that it could control him in any capacity. Perhaps he would be further insulted to be paired with someone so damaged rather than some untarnished beauty.
You’d always heard he held great hatred for weakness.
Even so, despite your fear and desire to conceal yourself from him, you couldn’t forget him, couldn’t stop the flicker of longing in your chest you were certain all people held for their destined lovers. Because while he was unquestionably a monster, with a throne of skulls you had witnessed through his very eyes, he also seemed to be more than that.
He was a man of great loneliness, living in grand halls with only a handful of servants for company - and all but one of them would scuttle out of the way when he approached. He seemed to hold a great love for art, with his estate packed with paintings and tapestries and great vases, all kept in pristine condition. For a cannibal, he seemed to take great pride in the cleanliness of his surroundings, in the neat nature of his gardens and springs.
Even in his own appearance, he seemed to take great care, for there was no denying him to be a handsome man even with his unique features. He had a voice to match that beauty, one that you could hardly peel from your mind any more than you could forget his image.
His body was hard to maneuver, too big and confusing to control his many hanging limbs. In a way, it felt akin to your blindness, something different to the way humans were built to be, leaving him to struggle with an issue that no one else could relate to. You wondered how it had been for him in childhood - if he’d felt as isolated and scared as you had to know that everyone else was normal in a way you’d never been.
You pitied him, even through all his sins. You felt you could understand at least a piece of him from a day buried within the confines of his skin.
But still, you would never reach for him - wouldn’t poke the bear even if you could understand why it might bite. You were certain that someone like him would be unwilling to hear you out, unwilling to love or reflect on how he became the way he was - he would swipe your head from your shoulders just like everyone else, and that would be that.
So you would stay away, keep your dreams of him locked deep within your chest, and accept that distance was for the best.
There was more to life than soulmates.
Unfortunately, that choice wasn’t yours alone to make.
The madame had knocked on your door early that morning, with the golden light of the sun only just starting to peek in through your window. Lately you’d been having longer lie-ins and taking less clients as the cold of winter gripped the region. Along with the blindness, you’d been born with a particularly feeble body as a result of complications with your mother during her pregnancy, ailments which were always worse for you in the colder months.
Your bones strained as you pushed yourself up to a sitting position, calling for the woman to enter. As much as you longed to slip back into your dream of red eyes peering back at you with fiery desire, you were still beholden to the will of your employer, even in your months of weakness.
“How are you feeling, my dear?” She asked, as she slipped in through the door. You felt her weight dip the bed as she took a seat beside you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your shoulder.
“Mornings are always the worst but I can manage once I’m up and about. Has Sugawara come calling again?” Most regulars were understanding enough of your condition, and those that weren’t would generally be chased off by the madame or unloaded onto another of the courtesans. Sugawara was one of the few that generally wouldn’t accept such treatment, with only eyes for you.
It didn’t matter too much since the man only ever wanted to play shogi, and that was manageable enough even on your worst days. It seemed that he had no intention of laying with you until he’d beat you in a game fair and square, claiming that if that ever happened he’d buy you out and take you home for he would’ve earned your heart.
That talk always made you uncomfortable, for you had little interest in the man, but you were more than certain he had no chance at ever defeating you at shogi, and could therefore never lay claim to you - assuming he kept his word.
“Not Sugawara…” There was hesitation in her voice. “We’ve received a request for our finest shogi player to be sent to the mayor’s home this evening. Apparently the other courtesan houses have received the same request.”
“I didn’t think the mayor cared much for shogi.”
Again, there was a moment of silence. “No, he doesn’t. A rather unwanted guest has taken up residence in his home, and this is the demand that has come of it.” Immediately your blood ran cold, thoughts drifting away from the madame’s continuing chatter to the red eyes that sat so prominently in the darkness of your mind.
There was no question in your mind as to who this guest was.
And to call for shogi players had you certain he was looking for you. Would he execute you when you walked into a room so clearly lacking in vision? Put an immediate end to the one person who could potentially stir his cold heart if fate were to be believed?
It seemed like the only reasonable explanation
The request to send another in your place died on the tip of your tongue as you once again tuned in to what the madame was saying. “...make sure you’re in top form, I’ve heard any who lose to him are immediately disposed of, but I’m sure that man will be no match for you.”
You wouldn’t send another to face their death. You were the only courtesan in the house who was any good at shogi, anyone else would certainly perish. This was a meeting dictated by fate and you had no opportunity to run from it. You would face him head on and deal with your death graciously, greet your end alone in the dark just like everything else you’d ever faced.
“I’ll do my best,” you said to the madame, and that was the final moment you had for yourself, your sacrifice sealed by your words.
The rest of the morning was spent in a frenzied rush, dressing you up and perfecting your makeup, turning you into a sparkling beauty ahead of your presentation to a monster. Based on the quiet nature of your handmaid, the experience felt more like she was dressing your corpse for burial.
Neither of you spoke such a thing aloud, but tears dripped from sightless eyes all the same when she led you out to the carriage, the madam trailing behind her, sending you off with a soft farewell filled with a sense of finality.
—
Sukuna had undergone an annoying few months.
Steadily, he had made his way, region by region, up to the north of Japan in search of a blind shogi player whose skill allegedly eclipsed his own. In each area, he would call upon all shogi-playing courtesans to meet with him and join him in a game, in the hopes that one day it would be you sitting across from him.
So far, he’d been unsuccessful, and had left a growing pile of bodies and burnt villages in his wake, utterly irritated that the thing he was seeking still evaded his grasp. No one had beaten him. A few had come close but none of them had been blind, so he could be certain that they weren’t you.
He was beginning to wonder if you’d gone into hiding somewhere, forsaking your courtesan life entirely in a bid to avoid him. It wouldn’t surprise him - you’d been in his body, you’d seen he was a monster, a fragile little thing like you was probably terrified at the idea of ever crossing his path.
Either way, he’d still persevere. He’d kill every shogi player if that was what it took to get to you.
He’d recently found his way into the mountainous region of Miyagi, where winter was in full spring. Taking up residence in the mayor’s home in one of the more populous towns in the prefecture, he once again started his usual process of gathering the shogi players. Word spread fast and droves of them appeared swiftly, waiting to be called before him.
It went much as usual, with boring girls presenting themselves before him and providing him with equally boring games of shogi. These people were painfully predictable with no appreciation for the art of the game - really it was a gift for him to steal their lives from them, because he couldn’t imagine living while being so pitifully unskilled.
The pool of Miyagi courtesans was gradually running dry and Sukuna was preparing himself for another disappointing journey further north when his luck finally shifted.
He knew he’d found you the moment you walked in through the door.
You’d stumbled in meekly, eyes averted down to the floor as you bowed low and shuffled towards the centre of the room. You were taking care not to raise your head for him to look upon, and he quickly realised you were making your best effort to conceal your blindness from him, like you could keep your identity secret that way.
It was a futile attempt, for the very atmosphere around you felt charged, his heart picking up inexplicably at the very sight of you.
To say you were beautiful was an understatement. Everything about you was gorgeous, from your soft hair to the striking intensity of your unseeing eyes. You wore the finest silks and they hung off you well, complimenting your figure. He found himself eager to touch you, to rid you off your lovely gown and have his fingers against your smooth skin.
But that wasn’t the reason he had come, and he would play you before entertaining any other matter.
“Sit,” he ordered, taking great amusement in the shiver that seemed to run through you at the sound of his voice.
You dropped to your knees on the cushion before the board, hands pressing against the edge of the table. It was the first chance he got to take a proper look at your eyes, expecting them to be clouded over, but taken aback by the lovely colour your irises still held beneath that mist.
“You’re blind.” He observed aloud, taking note of the way your teeth caught your lower lip anxiously.
“I see more than enough,” your response was guarded.
He hummed, a sly grin settling on his face. Idly, he wondered if you could sense it, because you seemed to tense up a little, fidgeting across from him in a way his traitorous brain seemed to register as endearing. “Is that so? Do you see enough to know my strategy before we commence? Or will you disappoint me like the others?”
“You tell me.”
Your words had his heart stirring against his will, impressed by your serenity before him, still sitting up straight and calm despite the fear he could sense within you. You were a woman who held confidence despite it all, harboured strength even in the face of your obvious weaknesses. He wondered what you were thinking, if you believed he was there to execute you for the mere transgression of being his soulmate.
It wasn’t a foolish assumption.
He would kill you without a second thought if you were uninteresting to him.
But he’d reserve that judgement until after you had played. He had been promised someone exceptional and that was what he wished to see, anything less and your blood would stain the floor just like every other woman who had sat before him. Would you still be so calm if you could see the bodies littering the room? He assumed not.
He wondered if you hated him, if you cursed fate itself to be paired with a man like him. Nothing about you gave anything away, all your focus fixed on the board in front of you, your hands moving steadily against the wood of the board, as if centring yourself.
“Shall we begin?” He asked.
“Yes.”
Sukuna couldn’t quite comprehend what had transpired in that first game he played against you.
He had approached things in much the same manner that he always would when playing shogi - opening strong and attempting to completely overwhelm his opponent, and yet somehow he found opportunities snatched from him at every turn.
Nothing seemed to catch you off guard. Any attempted play was greeted with an easy answer from you, as though you were battling a child. You were always three steps ahead of him, never hesitating in the shifting of a piece, moving with a certainty that had him transfixed.
He found that he couldn’t draw his eyes away from you, his struggle on the board forgotten at the realisation he’d been well and truly defeated. There was no point in struggling further - you had swatted him aside in the way that he usually defeated others, and you had done it with no glee or brag, nothing more than passive indifference once the games finally came to an end.
Your shoulders were raised, as if awaiting something you wouldn’t be able to see coming. A strike from him, perhaps? Or the neat removal of your head from your shoulders? The same fate of all others he’d played across the last few months.
But he wasn’t in the position to do anything at that moment, lashes fluttering as he stared at you, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
There had been no lie told about your skill - on the contrary, you had exceeded his expectations spectacularly. He wanted to play you again and again, wanted to witness the beauty of the way you played, wished to spend hours lost deep in thought considering how he could even begin to pick you apart in a match.
He could spend years sitting across you, gazing upon your lovely form while you worked away in silence with such unquestionable mastery.
No wonder Sugawara had been disappointed in Sukuna’s ability. He couldn’t hold a candle to what you were.
“How?” He asked, unable to think of another word to offer.
Your head was still lowered, eyes fixed elsewhere. He wished you’d look at him, allow him a clearer view of your face, but it occurred to him that such a request may not be easily granted with your lack of vision. You would never be able to lock eyes with each other - it would be something entirely meaningless for you.
“You aren’t all that good,” you spoke softly, a smile playing on your lips.
Sukuna disagreed with your sentiment, considering he’d never been beaten before, but perhaps you’d consider all his previous opponents to be genuinely pitiful at the game.
“So, will you take my life now? Or is that reserved for the losers?” You asked.
“To take the life of someone I could not best would be cowardly and pointless,” he said with a snort. “How would I ever grow to be better than you if I extinguished you from the world? Don’t be foolish. We will play again.”
And again you played.
Game after game until the sun began to rise in the sky, and Sukuna could sense exhaustion drifting through your fragile form. You were shivering from the cold, and he had Uraume bring in a robe to wrap around you, keenly aware of how sickly you seemed to look beneath all the beauty. You were setting up the board for your tenth match when Sukuna finally put an end to things.
“Enough. I would take no joy in defeating an exhausted opponent.” He rose to his feet, stretching as he moved. He wasn’t keen on remaining still for long periods of time, but you seemed accustomed to it, staying deathly still upon your cushion, uncertainty evident in your posture.
“Then, you will send me to my home?” You asked.
“No.” The word escaped him before he could stop it.
He did not wish for you to go anywhere, lest you slip from his grasp never to be found again. It was because he wanted to play you more, that’s what he told himself, but there was more to it than that, and in his soul he knew it.
He never wanted the image of you on your knees before him to slip away, never wanted to lose the pleasurable feeling of warmth that swelled in his chest with you there within his gaze.
“You’ll accompany me to my home, and we’ll play until I’m satisfied.”
—
Weeks had passed since you’d arrived at Sukuna’s estate in the Hida Mountains.
You’d been given no time to bid goodbye to the women at the only home you’d ever known, swept off in a carriage down south where you had to relearn your surroundings in a totally new environment.
Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d been in the estate, but that experience made little impact on the ease of traversing around with no vision. You had to move slowly, fingers brushing on blurry objects shadowed in the darkness, hoping you didn’t trip over something or walk into a screen door.
For the most part, you were left to your own devices. Sukuna had spoken little to you on the journey home, opting to ride on his horse rather than in the carriage with you, and he’d been equally elusive in his own estate, leaving you in isolation for days at a time.
You couldn’t complain, for your days were spent in peace and serenity.
You would take long walks in the breeze of his garden, have his servants read aloud to you, and practice playing the erhu. On days where it was particularly cold and the chill seeped into your bones, you would remain in the grand bed he had provided and find greater comfort than you ever had in the old bed you’d laid upon in the courtesan house.
The only obligation you ever had to fulfill were shogi games. And during the times that he wasn’t absent from the estate, those would take place every evening, in Sukuna’s own private quarters.
It was an odd decision, considering that the servants played shogi out in the garden, where a proper table was set up for that purpose. But it seemed that Sukuna took care in ensuring your meetings were private - a decision you didn’t dare read into too deeply.
You didn’t dare read into any of his behaviour too deeply, lest you rip your own heart from your chest.
That first meeting with him had been like nothing you’d ever experienced - genuine desire overcoming you at the deep tone of his voice. Even knowing that he could cause your death with little effort, you couldn’t bury the lust within you, a fire that only burned stronger with each encounter with him.
It was hard to hold it together, to pretend that you wouldn’t fling yourself into his arms given the chance, but you tried all the same, keeping yourself distant and cold, like you didn’t dream of him between your legs each night, imagining the sound of his voice whispering sweet nothings against your ear.
Whether he felt the effect to the same extent you did, you weren’t sure. You were certain you’d never know. His interest in you was surrounding shogi, and shogi alone.
One evening, you were sitting across from him having played a handful of games, finding victory had fallen into your hands even more easily than normal. Sukuna seemed distracted by something, the sound of fidgeting settling in your ears. He hadn’t moved to start a new game, and based on the shadowy shapes in your vision, you could only assume he was leaning forward upon the table, bringing him close enough for his breath to fan your face.
“I killed today,” he said. Those were the first words he’d spoken to you that evening - you always followed his example with conversation, if he was feeling chatty you would indulge him, if he wished for silence you would give him that too.
You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with that statement, nor were you certain what type of response he was seeking, so you offered him a hum of acknowledgement and little more. You didn’t wish to think of the death that stained his hands, but nor did it build your animosity towards him.
To some extent you could understand lashing out at the world when you were someone so desperately lonely as he was. Part of you believed that if you hadn’t been so frail perhaps you’d lash out at the world for your own condition. His primary servant had told you he’d been despised throughout his life, and when you find only cruelty in humans it's difficult to cling to kindness.
Sukuna wasn’t so simple as a mere monster. You’d understood that in the day you’d spent in his body, and had only further confirmed it by the intelligence he displayed when you’d speak over games of shogi. He had a great admiration for art and skill, and had seemed rather taken when you’d recited poetry, responding with verses of his own.
He was a multi-faceted man, and much of what you saw only seemed to further your attraction to him, even knowing it was wrong, even knowing you’d be hated for it. For once, you felt you’d found someone who understood what it was like to be you, to be cut off from the easy lives lived by most others.
A soul that entwined so perfectly with yours, even if he’d never be aware of such a thing.
“Do you wish to know who I killed?” He asked.
“I know few people, my lord. I doubt a name would mean anything to me.”
“This one might. I’ve heard you’re familiar with Officer Sugawara? He’s one of the Shogun’s men?”
Thoughts of your regular flickered through your mind. If you were being honest with yourself, you were glad to not have to see him anymore - him or any of the other clients you’d been forced to take. Courtesan life had been difficult for you, forced into it thanks to the conditions of your birth and kept there by a disability that made it hard to escape the life for something better.
Life in Sukuna’s estate had been easier, especially as the weeks passed and you grew more comfortable in the belief that Sukuna wasn't going to steal your life from you. You’d lived in fear of Sugawara buying you out, of being forced to live like some doll in the house of a terribly boring man whose voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to your ears.
“I know him.”
“Knew him, would be more apt. His body lies at the foot of the mountain.” Sukuna spoke matter-of-factly. “He came to claim you from me. I refused and we couldn’t reach an amicable agreement, so I dealt with it another way.”
You weren’t sure how to react, struggling to process the words. That Sugawara would follow you down to Hida already came as a surprise, you hadn’t known how deep his devotion ran. But somehow, you found yourself rather taken by Sukuna’s decision, by the certainty in his choice to keep you.
To kill a man whose death could cause him issues with the Shogun might as well have been an outright confession of love.
Sugawara’s death meant little to you. Men like that died all the time, and they saw women as little more than pretty objects to own. Sugawara had seen you as an impressive party trick, a clever cat rather than a human with depth and desires of her own. You hadn’t wanted to be his, wouldn’t have liked for Sukuna to surrender you to him.
“Are you irritated with me? When I controlled your body you seemed repulsed at his presence. Perhaps you have a heart too soft for blood and death.”
“No- I-” You hesitated. “Did you do this to protect me?”
There was silence for a moment, and you longed to see his facial expression, but were forced to settle for the hint of confusion in his tone. “Of course. I’ve protected you since bringing you here. You can hardly protect yourself.”
You couldn’t find it in you to be offended - he’d been in your body, he knew of your frailty better than anyone.
“Why? Just because you enjoy shogi so much?”
“Somewhat. Though I must confess, lately I have been losing interest in the game. I feel I’ve come up against an insurmountable wall.” Panic filled you immediately, mind running at a million miles a minute as you analysed his statement. If he was growing bored of playing would he cast you aside? What use did he have for you if not shogi?
But then again, why would he kill Sugawara if he was moments from disposing of you?
“Perhaps it is the fault of my own discipline, for I’ve found it hard to focus on the game for quite some time now.” He hesitated, and you found yourself flinching at the feeling of a soft hand caressing your cheek, leaning into it once you overcame the initial shock of touch. “It is difficult when you have a beautiful woman sitting across from you. It’s even harder when my soul calls for you whenever you're near, drowning out any thoughts I might gather of strategy.”
“Oh.” You weren’t sure what to say, wondering if you should pinch yourself, for many of your dreams centred themselves around such a confession. But the touch had never felt so real before, large fingers brushing against the soft skin of your face.
“I wonder if I’d be more focussed if I admitted fate might make some sense after all. I have never denied myself anything before now, and I’m tired of denying myself you. You have captivated me thoroughly, and I believe the hole in my chest was carved out to allow you to one day settle there.”
The words were by far the most romantic statement anyone had ever uttered to you. In your time as a courtesan you’d heard plenty of cheesy and affectionate lines, ones you’d brush off and forget by the time the client was done with you. Sukuna’s words would burrow into your heart and remain there for as long as you drew breath.
Could anyone fault you for loving a monster who would speak such beauty to you? Could you be hated for finding one who had been cursed by the world just like you had?
“I have no care for the Shogun’s men,” Sukuna continued, “in my eyes they are little more than flies most of the time, an annoying thing to be ignored unless they brush too close. Would it amuse you to know I killed Sugawara out of jealousy? To hear that my chest tightened at the idea of you being taken from my side?”
“Because you enjoy having such a capable rival in intelligence?” You asked, a wry smile creeping onto your face.
“Because I enjoy you.”
It was clear he was waiting for you to say something. The words that had poured from his mouth were unlike any he’d spoken before, and although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the sense of restlessness that gripped his body.
You would not leave him in uncertainty.
“I have only ever seen the world through your eyes,” you confessed shyly, “the only face I see in the endless darkness is yours, and I dream of it every night.” Sukuna’s fingers twitched against your face. “If you’ll have me, I am yours.”
“Even though I’m a monster?” He asked. There was no remorse in his tone, nothing to suggest that he was pained over who he was, it was just an honest question for you to answer as you wished. “You were scared of me when we met. I know you hid yourself from me after discovering our connection, eager to ensure our paths would never cross.”
“Because I believed you would kill me. I thought you to be a man who would stamp out any notion of love and eliminate me along with it.”
He hummed in acknowledgement, failing to deny your statement. You knew it to be true - if you had lost your shogi game on that first meeting, he would’ve done exactly that. It was in his nature to love only that which piqued his interest.
“Especially to be paired with someone so weak, I thought you would consider it an insult.”
He scoffed. “You are far from weak, I’ve found it impossible to best you.”
“I meant physically,” your voice went small. “I did not imagine the King of Curses would favour a sightless woman, nor one so easily broken.”
He was silent for a moment, seemingly processing your words. “I was small and frail once. Perhaps frailer than you. I wish someone had valued me then for my other virtues. I’m big enough and sharp enough to make up for your failings and you are clever enough to cover mine.”
Your mind was reeling at the idea of him admitting to having failings. Your heart stirring at his affection, and his easy desire despite your condition.
“I had not imagined a soulmate to be so well suited to me, for my tangles with fate have always been cruel,” he said. “But you’re something different, something I need at my side, and I will be your eyes, your protector, whatever it is you want in order to keep you there.”
“Oh.” You were positively blushing, whole body trembling beneath the weight of lovely words spoken in that deep voice of his.
Your soulmate wanted you.
A man hated by the world and filled with hatred in return had a space carved out for you, a space for love you hadn’t known him capable of.
You’d loved him from the first time you’d met him, drawn to him by an inexplicable force which seemed to grip him just as hard.
Soulmates really were wonderful.
Silence had settled between the two of you, only broken as the table screeched across the floor, the barrier between you removed. Sukuna shifted forward and an arm came to rest around your smaller body, pulling you towards him. His lips pressed against yours in a kiss you could only describe as sweet.
He didn’t dominate you in the manner you believed a man like him would, instead he took his time, mapping out your lips and drawing you closer to him, letting you bathe in the warmth of his body against yours. It was almost like he was trying not to scare you, aware that you couldn’t see anything he was doing and trying to move slowly as a result.
You wouldn’t have minded either way, your fingers clinging to the biceps of his upper arms, desperate for more of a touch you’d only ever dreamed of.
People always said that to finally touch your soulmate was a euphoria like nothing else, and you truly believed them to be right. Your head felt like it was swimming, chest swelling as if Sukuna’s own soul had wriggled beneath your skin to intertwine with your own.
It was a little overwhelming.
“How I long for you,” he murmured against your ear, breaking the kiss. “I was foolish to have not had you the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve ached for your touch longer than I care to admit.”
His fingers moved down to your robes, and your breath hitched at the touch. You were no stranger to sex, your job had required it, but the feeling as he undressed you wasn’t like any previous encounter you’d had. What regulars thought of your body was insignificant to you, sex was nothing special with them, just something you had to do if you wished to make a living wage.
This was the first time you’d ever been touched for free by someone you desired, and you felt suddenly nervous at your frail body being judged beneath his crimson gaze - especially when you couldn’t look upon him in the same moment. There was no distraction in the darkness to keep you from worrying about how his gaze might burn through you, imagining discontent on his handsome face.
A cold chill caught you once your robes fell, leaving you kneeling and exposed in front of him. A soft breath fell from his lips, fingers moving delicately from your shoulders down to your breasts, as if checking you were truly real and there before him. More heat flooded you as his finger brushed over your peaked nipple.
“Beautiful. If I didn’t despise the idea of sharing you with another I would paint you like this. Your body is worthy of that reverence.”
“I think my mind is probably more splendid.” You confessed. You had no eyes for awareness of your appearance, and had subsequently never really relied on it. People had said you were lovely, but you could never quite believe it, assuming that they were taking pity on you for your blindness.
“Your mind is exceptional. If I cannot beat you at shogi soon I have half a mind to ask you to assist me with real life strategy,” he said with a chuckle, fingers still trailing a slow path down your body. “But it doesn’t make your body any less lovely, and you cannot deny such things since you’ve never seen yourself. Let me be your eyes and tell you that you are breathtaking.”
A shyness overcame you at those words, head angled downwards as if it would hide your blushing state from him. He raised your chin with a finger, his nose bumping yours before capturing your mouth in a kiss once more, bringing you close against his bare chest. You were so lost in the comfort of the kiss, that you found yourself completely caught off guard when something wet swiped against your stomach and breasts.
Flinching in surprise, you drew yourself back in an attempt to understand what was happening. Sukuna laughed, a hand moving into your hair comfortingly. “It's my tongue,” he spoke easily.
Frowning, you found that his answer didn’t make sense, because still the wet appendage explored your breasts, sending your heartrate flying as it flicked against your nipple with impressive accuracy. How could he be speaking but also doing that?
“There’s a mouth on my stomach. Perhaps you didn’t notice when you controlled my body.”
You were ashamed to admit you hadn’t noticed such a thing. Sukuna had been naked when you’d awoken in his body, and you’d been quick to dress him up in robes, feeling rude to intrude upon the body of another without consent. You’d very intentionally not paid too much attention to the workings of his body, not when the first thing you’d seen was the oddity he sported between his legs.
The memory that he had two of what most men only had one, suddenly had you feeling a little nervous in your position. You had no time to voice such nervousness before he was picking you up, allowing his second tongue to continue its onslaught while he carried you over to the bed, depositing you down upon the silk.
His weight moved on top of you, and he swallowed a gasp with his lips as his monstrous tongue shifted its attention from your breasts down to between your legs, dexterously finding a path between your things and lathering your pussy with attention while Sukuna consumed your mouth. Tears pricked in your eyes at the sensation, unaccustomed to a feeling like that.
In all your years as a courtesan, you’d never been eaten out. Men didn’t come to brothels to serve women, they came to have their own needs attended to, and you’d done that in whichever manner they desired. You were grateful to have never experienced that feeling before, because it was a blessing to have Sukuna be your first.
Pressure built in your stomach over a series of minutes, overwhelmed by the way he seemed to be everywhere. A tongue between your lips, another between your thighs, hands squeezing your breasts, tweaking your nipples, more hands gripping your hips, pulling you up onto his secondary tongue to allow it a better angle to overwhelm you.
For the first time, you started to understand how Sukuna must feel whenever he played you at shogi - stumbling blindly in the dark whilst overcome from all angles with no means of knowing what was going to come next. It was pleasure in its highest form, and you were quick to cum with a yelp of his name, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.
Sukuna broke the kiss, breathing heavily against your ear. It was a sound you enjoyed, one you could listen to all day if he’d allow you. “I have imagined you beneath me like this every night this week,” he mused, “my imagination is hardly as pleasant as having the real thing. You taste much sweeter than my mind could conjure.”
Again, you were flushing red. “Y-you can taste me through…that?”
“Of course.” You were certain he was grinning, “And I’m glad that I can.” His secondary tongue was still moving slowly through your folds, lapping up the remnants of your first orgasm, teasingly flicking against your clit and making your shudder.
The two of you stayed like that for a while, breathing quietly together. You weren’t sure what Sukuna wanted to do next, but for a moment you were happy to savor the warmth of his heavy body, twitching while he lazily continued his attention to your body. How you longed to see him, eager to witness the expression he was wearing while he attended to you.
All you had to go off was the erratic beating of his heart where his chest was pressed against you.
“Let me have you,” he murmured against your ear. “Let me make you mine.”
“I’m already yours.”
“Is that so? Then let me make it official.”
He shifted atop you, withdrawing his secondary tongue. In the absence of that heat between your thighs, you grew suddenly aware of a heavy pressure against your leg. Your mind jumped to the image of his cocks that you’d filed away in the back of your mind, gut twisting at the thought of either one of them pressing into you.
Sukuna chuckled from above you, a hand coming to stroke your hair. “You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”
You nodded.
“I can tell, you’ve got that scared little look on your face. It’s fascinating, when you play shogi you’re unreadable, but outside of that? You’re practically an open book with your emotions always written across your face.”
Pouting, you let humiliation wash over you. Nobody had ever told you that before. It was hard to guard one's emotions when you had no measure of how the faces of others looked. That was something you’d have to work on. At least you had the good sense to give nothing away when you played shogi.
Another laugh echoed from his lips. “Even now I can see your panic. It’s very endearing.”
Any protest or response you had for him faded away into the recesses of your brain as he shuffled on top of you. He maneuvered you carefully into a new position, raising your legs and placing them up atop his broad shoulders. You were grateful for your flexibility in that moment, because the size difference between the two of you made that no easy task.
Sukuna was watching you from above while he positioned one of his cocks between your legs, running it steadily through your wet folds in a way that had you shivering with desire, still not fully recovered from the actions of his tongue. You were quick to discover that his focus was on his lower cock, as the upper one bumped pleasurably against your clit.
“You know,” he mused, stilling his movements. “I’m surprised you struck no deal with me. It is what I had imagined you would do.”
“What?”
“I’d assumed I would ask for more and you would refuse me. I’d thought your respect was tied to shogi, that you would refuse anything from me unless I was capable of beating you.” Your mind moved to Sugawara as you connected the dots. Sukuna believed you’d made that deal before, as if that tiresome Official hadn’t dictated those rules of his own choosing.
Shogi was a game you adored, mainly because it was an activity you could excel at even without sight, unlike many other courtesan pastimes such as painting, which would forever be an impossibility for you. But it was by no means something you made all your decisions on, nor were you particularly interested in the skill of others.
If someone could defeat you, you would congratulate them for their win and move on, it would ultimately mean little.
To you, it was little more than a game. To various men, it seemed to be something held in much higher regard - a true mark of intelligence rather than a game for which one could learn and remember strategies to allow them a win.
It mattered little to you whether Sukuna could defeat you or not. Your affection for him wasn’t tied to it in any manner.
“To make such a demand would be wasting my own time. Why would I turn down a man I desire over something so trivial? Besides, my bet with Sugawara was made to ensure I never had to lay with him, that is not the fate I want for us.”
“So you believe I am incapable of winning?” He asked, with greater disappointment than you’d been expecting.
“I do,” you said with a giggle, “just as I am incapable of emerging victorious in a battle. We all have our strengths.”
A yelp fell from you as he pushed the tip of his cock into you, catching you unawares. “Yeah?” He asked, pressing deeper into you, his fingers tangling tightly into your hair. “Rather sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
You couldn’t help but laugh again - even in the midst of the dull pain of him driving into you, there was something so endearingly pathetic about his words.
“I am. But you’re free to challenge me whenever you like.”
He was silent as he bottomed out inside of you, his face falling to your neck and leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your skin while he allowed you some time to adjust. You were grateful for his consideration of your wellbeing, fingers digging into his skin, your gut aching as he leaned forwards over you, pushing your legs higher on his shoulders.
There was no question that he was the largest man you’d ever had inside you, practically tearing you apart with his intrusion, but after a few minutes of stillness you found yourself able to relax, the panic exhibited by your body slowly dissipating as you accommodated his size.
“I will challenge you whenever I like,” he whispered against your ear. “After this, the cloud of lust you’ve placed in my mind will be thinner, and I will beat you with ease.”
“Oh, I’m sure-”
Your snarky response was promptly cut off as he withdrew himself from you, only to swiftly fill you up once more, pulling a desperate cry of his name from your lips. There was no second adjustment period given, instead you found yourself clinging on for dear life as he filled you over and over again with swift and deep thrusts that had your eyes rolling back.
One of his hands moved to your stomach, pressing down against the bulge where his cock would press up inside you. It was clear he was fascinated by it, finding great enjoyment in you being claimed by him. You were certain he was no virgin, but it seemed that you were the first woman who meant something to him, the first one who was worth something beyond carnal pleasure.
Legs quivering beneath the weight of his thrusts, you appreciated the way two of his hands came to rest on your thighs, keeping you steady with each brutal snap of his hips. You were crying and whining, your hands blindly reaching for him but finding him just out of range in this position. Seemingly to appease you, he leant further forward, really testing the flexibility of your legs as he practically folded you in half.
Lips pressed against your forehead affectionately, and you enjoyed every single second of his attention, mind floating off on a cloud as your gut tightened with each careful stroke, your walls flexing around his cock. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, a feeling only heightened by the erratic contact of his higher cock rubbing up against your clit.
“You feel so good, fuck. I can’t last like this,” he grumbled, never losing pace. It stroked your ego to know of his desire, to understand just how much he’d been holding back since your first meeting. It was everything you imagined the joining of two soulmates would be - desperately euphoric and overflowing with pleasure.
Sex had never felt so good, it had never really felt good at all, and yet you could spend eternity with Sukuna buried inside of you, your bodies and souls joined just as they were always meant to be.
He was yours and you were his. It was just as fate had decreed.
There was nothing stopping the scream that ripped through you as you finally teetered over the edge, your body convulsing in pleasure and clamping down on Sukuna’s thick cock, eager to milk him for all he was worth. You were sobbing his name and writhing against the silk sheets, your hands gripping them desperately in an attempt to anchor yourself to something in the throes of pleasure.
Sukuna couldn’t hold on long after that either, spilling into you with a warmth that only heightened your pleasure. His other cock found its release at the same time, cum dripping down onto your stomach in a manner that you’d usually find disgusting, if it weren’t your soulmate who was doing it to you. He groaned your name quietly, and let your legs fall from his shoulders.
Without the barrier of your thighs, he settled himself down on top of you, pressing kisses all over your face, his cock still twitching inside your exhausted pussy. You let him lather you with affection, still trying to come to terms with this side of Sukuna. It had been what you’d wanted, what you believed he was capable of, but you hadn’t dreamed it would truly happen.
The most you believed you’d get from him was a lifetime of shogi matches, in which the two of you would remain close but never cross the line you’d been so desperate to leap across.
“Has the fog of lust lifted?” You teased. “Do you believe now you can defeat me?”
Sukuna let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Perhaps we will have to do that a few more times for it to fully ease.”
“Oh is that so?” You giggled, reaching out for his hair. He gripped your wrist and moved it into position, allowing you to play with the soft locks you’d been so eager to touch since the first time you’d seen them upon his head.
You wished you could gaze upon that lovely shade of pink once more, but it was enough to know he was there before you, yours to touch as you pleased.
“Mmm, I think it would help,” he purred.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
You’d give him whatever he wanted. You were his and he was yours for as long as he’d have you.
a/n: I had so much fun writing this one! thinking about doing one soulmate au for each of the jjk men because I find them so enjoyable to play with <3
anyway, for any crazy in love fans, the next chapter will be out towards the end of this week!
Ryomen Sukuna X fem!readerX Choso Kamo, jealousy, cheating, maybe a three some, oral sex, (f! recieving), aort of angst, high school drama, break ups, triggers( substance use, sex, foul language)
Synopsis.
When you come back in town with your new boyfriend, you expect to rekindle old bonds, get closer to your roots, and maybe even settle down once and for all. But an old high school flame rekindles, forcing you to change trajectory. Will your new relationship last the ride? Or will crash and burn like all your previous ones? The first time you see him, all your goals blow up into fireworks.
ᢉ𐭩 it was news to you when you figured out megumi could be a little possessive...
᧔ ⑅ ᧓ 𝓹ossessive/obsessive! megumi who didn't come off as the obsessive kind of guy when you first got together. he seemed pretty laid back and carefree; boy, were you wrong. but it comes from a place of caring for your safety, he says.
᧔ ⑅ ᧓ 𝓹ossessive/obsessive! megumi who always has your location. he finds solace in knowing exactly where you are, that way he can determine if he can walk, run, or drive to you if something were to happen. even under the circumstances of it not being emergencies, he likes watching your little icon on his phone move around to pass the time.
᧔ ⑅ ᧓ 𝓹ossessive/obsessive! megumi who loathes pda; but if you're talking to another guy, the story changes. he'll hold your hand or tug on the back of your shirt as a way of saying 'lets go.' say, if it was a random guy neither of you knew, he'd simply drag you away mid conversation.
" and i—! " you sentence got cut off when you felt yourself being tugged away by the back of your shirt. you sighed, " megumi, don't be rude. "
" let's go, we have stuff to do. "
᧔ ⑅ ᧓ 𝓹ossessive/obsessive! megumi who constantly assures you that it's not that he doesn't trust you — he doesn't trust other people and their intentions.
᧔ ⑅ ᧓ 𝓹ossessive/obsessive! megumi who expects eye contact whenever you talk to him or vise versa. he doesn't like your attention on anything else. from the perspective of being in a group, it comes off a little intimate and feels like they're intruding on something private.
᧔ ⑅ ᧓ 𝓹ossessive/obsessive! megumi who leaves one or two bites or hickies in visible places. he isn't one to come out and say 'she's mine' when people flirt with you, he finds it slightly weird to say aloud. so, he leaves hints all around, whether that be on your neck, arms, thighs, maybe all of them.
᧔ ⑅ ᧓ 𝓹ossessive/obsessive! megumi who has a staring problem; really only towards you. outside of an intimate, loving manner — if something you're doing is bothering him, mainly pertaining to speaking with other people, he'll stare at the back or the side of your head. scary thing is that you can feel it — and it's very unsettling (that's the point).
᧔ ⑅ ᧓ 𝓹ossessive/obsessive! megumi who has a scary keen memory. if you tell him about someone, he'll keep them in mind for a while.
᧔ ⑅ ᧓ 𝓹ossessive/obsessive! megumi who constantly tells you he's yours and you're his — in private, of course. he could never say that around his friends or in public, he'd get shy about it if it was every brought up outside of the scene.
" you know you don't need anyone else, right? " he said, looking down at you. " i don't know what i could need anyone else for besides you. you should feel the same. "
" relax... goodness me, i agree with you. " you sighed playfully, brushing it off.
" then tell me. "
" i don't need anyone else but you. " for once, you saw his lips twitch upwards for a little longer than normal.
❝ saying you were unlucky in love was putting it lightly – at this point, you were pretty sure you were cursed. you so wanted to trust the handsome stranger you met at the library, but after years of disappointment, you find yourself struggling to. guess valentines weekend is the perfect time to give a new love a chance, right?❞
pairing choso x reader
wc 11.2k
content mdni!, fluff, smut, some angst, mix pov (choso and reader), fear of abandonment, reader is tired of the dating life, mentions of past dates not treating reader well, insecure attachment girls this one is for us, emotional hurt and comfort, i promise this is fluff, falling in love, soft intimacy, making out, choso fantasising about reader, soft dom choso, body worship, oral (f receiving), biting, fingering, praise, piv sex, sucking his fingers, handjob, pulling out, aftercare
choso art by @torucider which fully inspired this fic <3
Choso Kamo lived a fairly predictable life.
Wake up. Go to work. Make dinner for him and his brothers. Repeat.
It wasn't often he had time for himself, but actually – he didn't mind it at all. As the oldest brother and sole caregiver, after fate not being very kind to him and his siblings, Choso quickly stepped up for his family, and he was happy to do so.
He wanted nothing more than to be a steady, safe, rock for his siblings. Even if it came at the expense of his own needs and, well, free time.
You could say Choso wasn't someone who could afford the privilege of distractions.
But every so often he'd have a couple hours to spare, and he'd normally enjoy those in the local library. It was cozy, relaxing and, most importantly, quiet.
Only today it wasn't really.
Because it didn't matter how much he tried, Choso couldn't keep himself from glancing over at the woman sitting on the far end of the long table, who was sniffling loudly while attempting to pat her face dry with a sleeve, careful to not drop the thick book she was trying to read.
Choso was a caring person, he'd always had been. And he found himself looking for a pack of tissues in his pocket before you had even turned to look back at him.
His gruff hands closed around the crinkly packaging, second guessing if it was even a good idea, when the rustling sound seemed to get your attention.
You turned your gaze to him, blinking rapidly to try and shake away the pesky tears, eyes going wide like you had just noticed you hadn't been alone all this time.
Choso froze, completely caught, as his brain struggled to come up with a different thought apart from the one that kept repeating in his head.
Gods, he thought. You're beautiful.
You quickly averted your gaze, awkwardly tucking a strand behind your ear and swallowing thickly, fingertips tapping at the hardcover like this little interaction had made you just as nervous as him.
Choso had a choice then. He could turn his eyes downwards, continue reading this book like he meant to from the start and not mention anything.
Or he could actually build up the courage to walk over to you. Offer the tissues you so clearly needed, maybe ask what it was you were reading that got you this emotional – he was no stranger to welling up during a good read, after all.
And what was Yuuji always saying anyway? That he needed to 'get out there more'?
Choso sighed, hoping at least his younger brother would appreciate the effort, and placed his book back down with a gentle thud.
His hands gripped the edge of the table, the last chance he had to reconsider this, but Choso found himself pushing the chair away anyway, a loud scraping sound earning him annoyed looks from the other library visitors.
Choso walked over to you slowly, taking his time, noticing the way your eyes kept darting from him to your book and then back to him.
He would have found it cute were he not just as nervous.
"Sorry" Choso whispered when he got close, lowering his torso just a little so he was more eye level to you. "Do you need these?" he asked, opening his palm to pass you the tissues, as you watched between furrowed brows.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
He really wasn't sure what you were thinking, but you slowly extended your hand over, accepting his offering with a suspicious look. And then, to his complete surprise, you pressed a tissue to the skin under your eyes, and laughed.
It was only a little wet chuckle, more self deprecating than anything, but gods it was a beautiful sound.
"Thank you" you whispered back, watching him gratefully. "Sorry, I've been such a mess–" you laughed again, a warmer sound this time.
The blonde man sitting on the other table gave the two of you a judgmental look, but Choso didn't let it faze him.
No, right now he was too distracted to care much about library etiquette.
"It happens" he waved it off, taking a seat next to you. "Is it a sad one? You should have seen me when I read Brothers Karamazov, that one really–"
"No, no" you shook your head, turning the book around to reveal a textbook about maths.
Oh, he thought with furrowed his brows.
"Is it hard maths?" he asked, trying to make sense of the situation.
And then you laughed again, throwing your pretty head back in a laugh that wasn't at all strained this time.
That same man closed his book loudly, making a point to stare at the two of you as he walked to the front desk. You watched the man before turning your head to Choso, giving a little conspiratinal shrug between your giggles.
"I'm not crying because of the book" you explained, dabbing the tissue over your wet face again. "But I agree Brothers Karamazov is very emotional" you winked.
Choso wasn't sure why his heart suddenly beat so loud, but he hoped it wasn't disturbing the people at the other tables.
He definitely hoped you couldn't hear it.
Choso leaned a little closer to hear you better, clinging on to every word before opening his mouth again. "Why were you crying, then?" he asked, unable to quite hold himself back.
You had no reason to tell a complete stranger about your life, but he found himself so incredibly curious about you.
"It's a long story" you sighed. "And we might be getting kicked out" you raised an eyebrow, guiding his attention to the librarian walking in your direction.
Choso gulped, already picturing the shameful conversation with his brothers later in the day, when he had to explain he was banned from the one place he saught solace in.
He must have pulled a face, because suddenly you were laughing again, watching him with an amused expression. "Why don't we get out of here first?" you suggested.
Choso nodded, following you out the tall doors and offering the woman an apologetic look.
You didn't seem to mind though, strolling right past like the whole thing was a little adventure. You didn't even look like the same girl that had been crying loudly just a few minutes ago.
And he couldn't help but following in your heels, allowing himself to exchange a smile with this curious stranger once the doors were open and the cold air hit both your skins.
"I'm sorry about that" you said, rubbing your hands together for warmth.
Did you not bring gloves too? Choso thought you seemed very unprepared. His brotherly instincts already kicking in and thinking if he should offer you his.
But you hugged your hands across your body, warming them up with your own heat, and he noticed you were patiently waiting for a response.
"It was my fault" Choso said quickly, shifting his weight between his legs. "I offered you the tissue"
"You did" you laughed, raising one eyebrow. "Why did you?" you asked then.
"Because you looked like you needed it" Choso explained, realising now maybe it made more sense in his head than it did in yours.
He didn't know you, after all.
"That's really sweet" you muttered, voice a little smaller, a little surprised.
Choso gulped, having not expected that reaction. "Y-you think?" he stuttered, telling his stupid hands to stop sweating so much.
Thank god he didn't forget his gloves.
"Yeah" you cocked your head, assessing him. "Are you always that sweet?" you asked, the hint of a tease in your voice.
Choso didn't necessarily think himself sweet, just… attentive. Reliable.
And he opened his mouth to say just that, but a vision of Yuuji scowling at him later flashed through his mind, telling him to be more confident and direct.
"I guess" Choso responded instead, rolling his shoulders back a bit.
You watched him through long eyelashes, a faint blush creeping up your cheek at the matter of fact way he had said it.
"And what is your name, sweet stranger?" you asked.
Were you flirting with him?
You had to be, right?
"I'm Choso" he said, extending a hand while you muttered your own in reply. He could feel how cold your hands were even through his thick gloves, and he felt the urge to keep them there a little longer, make sure you were warm.
But the handshake didn't last that long, unfortunately.
"Thank you for the tissues, Choso" you smiled, giving him a silent nod before starting to turn away.
Don't go just yet, Choso's thoughts begged.
"Wait" he called, watching the way you turned your head around but not your full body, offering the tiniest smirk. "Why were you crying?"
You sighed, looking at the floor for a second. "I told you" you said. "It's a long story"
Choso felt himself take a step closer, second guessing what he was about to say already. "Why don't I give you my number" he suggested. "And you can decide if you ever want to tell me?"
He wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say at all.
But Choso couldn't bear to see you walk away and just live in the limbo of hoping to run into you again.
To his surprise, you smiled, reaching for the phone in your pocket before giving it to him. "What if I never do?" you asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It's your choice" Choso muttered, typing the last few digits before passing the device back to you. "But I'd like to listen"
You huffed out a little unbelieving chuckle, biting the inside of your cheek before you made up your mind to walk away again. "Nice to meet you, Choso" you waved at him, and he thought your eyes locked for more than just a few seconds this time around.
"Nice to meet you too" he muttered, standing glued to the same spot, watching you walk away.
"Wait what" Yuuji exclaimed loudly, banging the fork on the wooden table. Eso and Kechizu looked equally as shocked, but Choso kept his attention on the fresh pasta he had cooked for dinner, not wanting to make a big deal out of this. "You gave her your number?!"
"Yeah", Choso shrugged like it was obvious, eyes still down. "What if she didn't want me to message?" he asked, not able to think of anything worse than you rolling your eyes when you saw his name pop on a screen.
No, if you two were going to keep in touch, he wanted it to be your decision.
But Choso would be lying if he said he didn't check his phone every five minutes since this afternoon.
"I think that was a great idea, brother" Eso nodded, Kechizu quick to follow.
"I'm not saying it isn't!" Yuuji exclaimed, wild arms flying everywhere. "But what if she does message you?"
Choso felt his heart tug a little at the prospect, but he quickly shook his head. "I don't think she will" he muttered, trying to sound like it didn't matter as much as it did.
"Cho" Yuuji called. "Do you even know what day is next weekend?"
That caught his attention, finally making Choso lift his gaze. "Next weekend?" he echoed.
Yuuji let out an incredulous groan. "It's valentine's day you idiot!" his brother exclaimed.
"Language, Yuuji" Choso reprimanded.
"Big bro, this is great" Yuuji beamed excitedly, ignoring what he had just said. "You have to ask her out"
"Yuuji, I don't even think she'll–"
A loud pinging noise interrupted him.
And suddenly time had stopped.
Every pair of eyes widened at the table, before turning to the kitchen counter where Choso's phone was charging.
And then Yuuji was running.
"Yuuji–" Choso called back, running at his heel to snap the phone away before his nosy brother could reach for it.
"Don't tell me you're not curious" he grinned like a child, which then turned into a pout when his older brother snapped the device right out his hand.
Choso scowled, eyes darting to the screen while trying to remain calm, telling himself there was no reason to get this worked up over it.
It probably wasn't you anyway.
And then he saw the message.
y/n: It was really nice to meet you today
Choso froze, his wide eyed expression concerning enough to invite all his brothers around like moths to a flame.
"Well????" Yuuji called, clearly just as anxious as him. "Is it her?"
Choso took a deep breath in through his nose, reading the message over and over. "Yeah" he exhaled.
The room erupted into loud celebrations, a chorus of "what did she say? "what are you going to say?" and "are you ok??" echoing all over.
Choso didn't really know the answer to any of these questions.
It felt like his brain had blue screened.
He let out a long exhale, reading the message again. "She said it was nice to meet me"
"Oh my god!!!!" Yuuji exclaimed, practically jumping for joy. "She's in love with you! I knew it!"
Choso closed his eyes, ready to scold his brother again. "Yuuji–"
"No, listen" the pink haired boy cut him off. "She likes you, bro. You need to ask her out"
He hated feeling this vulnerable in front of his brothers, but he couldn't help the slight shaking in his hands. "She's just being polite" Choso shook his head, placing the phone down.
"What are you doing!" Yuuji grimaced, picking up his brothers phone and placing it back in his hands as he tskd. "She's didn't have to message you–she was clearly thinking about you!"
Choso's hands instinctively wrapped around the device, feeling himself tremble with the excitement but also the dread of hoping for something that might not come true.
And in that moment, he felt selfish.
His brothers couldn't be happier for him of course, but wants and desires were something Choso was not used to letting himself experience.
"Choso" Yuuji sighed, putting a palm on his brothers shoulders like he could read his mind. "Text her back. For me" he said, knowing exactly which invisible buttons to push to get his brother out of inercia.
"What if she doesn't–" he started to say, dealing with the second uncomfortable feeling this brought up in him: fear.
"Then we'll deal with it later" Yuuji brother winked. "Come on, we all just want to see you happy"
And they looked at him with such optimistic eyes, Choso had no doubt they told the truth.
Maybe he did deserve to live for himself for once.
So his fingers started typing.
"It was great to meet you too" said the screen as he turned it back to his brothers, all watching like it was a murder mystery investigation instead of a simple text.
"Too cold" Yuuji clicked his tongue, resting his chin on his knuckles. "Give it to me"
Choso reluctantly passed the phone to his younger brother, peering over his shoulder as he typed.
Choso: It was amazing to meet you, btw what are you doing for valentines day?
"Yuuji!" Choso snapped, taking the phone back. "I'm not opening with that"
"You have to open with something!" he argued. "Or she'll think you're not interested!"
Choso sighed, nodding his head in silent agreement. His fingers typed a new message as his brothers all watched with big approving smiles.
Choso: Likewise. Are you feeling any better?
"Gentleman-y, I like it" Yuuji winked, Eso and Kechizu exchanging excited glances.
Choso was about to put the phone away when the three little dots appeared on screen and made the room erupt once more.
"Oh god" Choso gulped.
"It's happening!!" Yuuji yelled.
The wait for your message to arrive felt like it took about ten years.
y/n: a little, thank you! would be up to tell you about it if the offer still stands
Choso didn't wait for anyone's input before he typed as fast as he could this time.
Choso: What are you doing tomorrow?
Tomorrow couldn't arrive fast enough, you thought as you nervously bit the inside of your cheek, already thinking of what to wear for the date with this handsome stranger who seemed sent by the gods above.
Had the universe finally started to be kind to you, or was this just another sick joke?
Sometimes you wondered if you were cursed, with the way life just didn't seem to ever go the way you expected it to.
But maybe that was a very egocentric way to look at it, you reprimanded yourself. Bad things happened to everyone after all – perhaps you were just a little too unlucky.
And if you were unlucky in every regard, when it came to dating that word didn't even begin to cover it.
How many times had you been let down by someone and, little by little felt the walls rising higher, the protective barrier you were forced to create around yourself just to keep your poor heart sane growing stronger and thicker and uglier.
It was easy to be charming, easy to be flirty. Far less to be vulnerable.
If only you were still happy staying single, like you had been for many years. No, you just had to go and believe a relationship was possible, just for the universe to show you over and over again that you were an idiot for ever believing.
This last time had been your fault, you chided yourself. You knew you shouldn't have trusted someone else again, so you shouldn't have been that disappointed when he proved to be a dickhead and ghosted you after finally sleeping together.
You didn't even think you were crying because of him today, more at the weight of reality proving itself to you once again.
The pain of giving part of yourself to someone who threw you away like furniture straight after.
Perhaps you were just unlovable.
Could have at least chosen a better place to cry than the damn library, but when the tears started, they didn't stop. Even focusing on your studies, the only real tangible thing you were good at, didn't seem to distract you from the hollow cave in your chest.
And then that man had shown up – Choso, he said, waltzing to you with big concerned eyes and an extended hand with just what you needed.
Who even was he?
Did he think you were as ridiculous as you felt, crying in public like that like some sort of loser?
That was definitely not the assumptions his dark eyes told, you remembered as your chest grew warmer.
Choso was kind. Sweet. And insanely handsome.
Weren't they all at the start, though?
Were you really about to put yourself through another disappointment?
Your hands had reached for his number before you could really stop yourself, typing the message you didn't expect a response to at all, let alone that quick.
The prospect of seeing him tomorrow filled you with excitement, and nerves, and dread. You weren't sure why you kept trying, or why you were even so excited to give this Choso a chance, but you thought at the very least maybe you wouldn't spend Valentines Day alone again.
You could will yourself to try.
Maybe this time it would be different.
And if it wasn't, well – you were here already anyway.
The next day eventually came, though it seemed to take a lifetime for the two of you.
Choso found himself already at the restaurant, tapping his fingers on the tabletop, impatiently waiting for your arrival despite knowing he was half an hour early.
What if you didn't show up at all? he thought, attempting to calm the panic brewing inside.
He was just not good at these things. Hadn't been on a date since college, and then again, nothing was ever serious.
When he had to take on the responsibility of caring for his younger brothers, Choso didn't even mind that dating was one of the things he had to give up.
But the thought of seeing you again had him unexplainably on edge.
The inside of his cheek raw with how much he bit into it, knees bobbing up and down under the table, that uncomfortable churning in his stomach some people referred to as butterflies.
Choso was nervous beyond belief, but the memory of his brothers so excited grounded him.
We just want to see you happy, Yuuji had said.
Choso wanted that too.
The door finally opened, revealing the person he had so been waiting to see. You had clearly taken the time to choose a nice outfit, making yourself look even more beautiful than you had been the day before – and that was a very hard bar to surpass, he thought.
Had you done this for him?
Choso stood up abruptly, almost knocking all the cutlery and plates from the table. He walked over to you, head scrambling on what he should do next – was a handshake too formal? A hug too personal? Definitely too soon for a kiss, right?
Why the fuck was he thinking of kissing you already?
"Hey" was all he said, standing right in front of you with his trembling hands deep in his pockets, adams apple bobbing up and down with every thick swallow.
"Hey" you echoed, cocking your head a little, a faint smirk tugging at your lips."It's nice to see you again"
"You're nice too–I mean–" not even two minutes in and Choso already felt like he was failing this.
You found his nerves nothing but endearing, however, stifling a laugh at his grimace.
Hearing that beautiful sound finally seemed to relax him a little too.
Your eyes darted to the table and Choso seemed to get the message, moving out of the way to pull a chair for you.
Clearly he was a gentleman, which was definitely rare nowadays. You had done this so many times already that you used to think you could accurately predict how a night would go, but something about this guy was different – like he was the one not quite used to this.
Choso sat opposite you, a faint redness around his cheeks making all your insides feel warm. "You look beautiful" he said, and his deep tone was less shaky, more certain.
It made the hairs on your arms prick up at the sound.
"Thank you, Choso" you muttered, distracting yourself with the menu to avoid those eyes that made your heart beat faster by the second.
So annoying how your body betrayed you like this.
"How are you feeling today?" Choso asked, tone all kind and gentle.
Part of you wanted to snap at him for pretending to care, but you couldn't bring yourself to when he sounded this genuine.
"Better than yesterday" you admitted with a little smile. Choso had two elbows on the table, leaning forward so he could hear you better, seeming actually interested. "Was a hard day, is all"
Choso hummed like he understood, watching you with dark expressive eyes. "I know what that's like" he muttered, and your question was interrupted by the waiter finally approaching the table.
He ordered for the two of you, double checking often to make sure you were happy with everything. It was kind of him, but you shouldn't let yourself get tricked, you kept thinking.
You took the opportunity to have a proper look at your date and his dark outfit that showcased surprisingly large muscles, where the shirt hugged him tight. You could see the faint outline of tattoos peeking from under his sleeve, matching the dark one he had across his face.
There was no way he wasn't used to dating.
Not when he looked like that.
The waiter finally left, and you found yourselves alone again.
"So" you asked, twirling the empty glass in your hands just to have something to do. "You ask strangers out often?" you tried to make a joke of your suspicion.
Choso coughed, completely caught by surprise. "No, actually" he replied, seeming a little shy. "I haven't actually been on a date in years"
"Wait, what?" you muttered, not liking how judgemental your voice sounded but not able to stop yourself. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah" he nodded. "Is that ok?"
Maybe this sweet boy act wasn't an act after all.
"Of course" you nodded. "Can I ask why?"
Choso swallowed, clearly some dark memory he didn't want to burden you with coming to the forefront. "My parents are not in the picture" he explained. "So I spend most of my time taking care of my little brothers"
You felt your heart drop, feeling awful about how judgemental you had been. "Oh god I'm so sorry" you muttered too quick, bringing your head to your hands in pure embarrassment.
"Don't be" Choso leaned forwards just a little like he wanted to reach for you, but stopped himself. "I love taking care of them"
You peeked at him from between your fingers, noticing how he had gone from gloom to a faint, proud smirk. The mention of his brothers alone had made your date brighten up visibly.
"How many brothers do you have?" you asked, leaning a bit back on your chair, intrigued by this man.
"Three. Yuuji, Eso and Kechizu" he responded, proud, smile growing at the mention of each name. "They're growing up too fast" he shook his head, dark hair flowing everywhere.
Fuck he was so cute.
"I'm assuming you guys are close?" you smiled, enjoying the lighter air he had about him when talking about them.
"Very" Choso nodded. "They're everything to me"
You pressed your lips together, feeling almost emotional hearing him talk like that. "Sounds like they're lucky to have you as their big brother"
Choso blinked, breath stopping half way. "That's kind of you to say" he rasped out, voice all strained and adorable.
He sure was bad at hiding his emotions, wasn't he?
Every little flicker was so plain in his face, from sadness to concern to happiness.
This date sure was unique.
"They, uh, actually hyped me up for this" he admitted with a shy little pout.
It wasn't like you to feel this nervous, you thought as you picked at your cuticles, glad the food was arriving to distract you from the drumming within.
When was the last time you wanted to kiss someone before the starters were even on the table?
Choso quickly changed the subject, clearly self conscious he had shared too much. And you let him, happy to go straight to your most obvious shared interest – books.
He really came alive when he spoke about the things he loved, telling you stories of reading to his brothers, of rare spaces of alone time where he wanted nothing more than hide in that same old library.
He was passionate, you thought.
And most surprising of all – Choso asked about you. Wanted to know about your favourite book growing up, the one you were currently reading, which genre you preferred.
Had anyone ever been this interested in you and not what you could offer them?
You could feel layers you tried so hard to hold on to falling away with every question, every little smile, every glance you exchanged.
It was terrifying.
He made you laugh so easily, it already made your heart hurt thinking of how hard the inevitable end would be.
You had really walked straight into another trap, hadn't you?
Typical.
Your eyes must have turned sorrowful, because suddenly Choso looked very concerned, one hand stretching across the table to touch yours, featherlight but grounding.
"Hey" he called, shoulders tense as he lowered his head to meet your gaze. "What's wrong?"
You blinked quickly, shaking away the dark thoughts and putting your mask back in place effortlessly, just like you had done a million times.
"Nothing" you smiled sweetly, a perfectly rehearsed performance. "Just thinking of something"
"What were you thinking about?" Choso asked, hand finally pressing just a little tighter over yours, waiting for you to respond by pulling away or opening your palm to him.
You turned your hand around, accepting his touch, feeling his thumb brush softly over your knuckles.
It was so warm. And soothing.
And fucking scary.
"I–" you started to say, unsure of what you even wanted to tell him. That you hadn't been used to being treated well?
That you thought you were disposable and was afraid he'd realise it too?
Way to kill the mood on the best date you've had in the past year, if not, ever.
"You're really sweet" you settled on these words instead, peaking from under your lashes to see his reaction. His thumb stopped moving for just a second before carrying on again, like steadying himself as much as you.
"Is that not…normal?" Choso asked gently, clearly upset at the idea alone.
"No" you shook your head, struggling to hold back the emotion in your voice. "It's not"
"Is that why you were crying yesterday?" he asked, far too good at connecting the dots.
Everything in you told you to run away.
But you didn't.
"Yeah" you admitted instead, biting your lower lip.
What the hell was it about this man that made you want to be so open?
When had that ever served you well?
But his touch was so damn soft, large hand swallowing yours whole but still being so incredibly gentle.
"I'm really sorry" he whispered, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes you so wanted to believe in.
Fuck.
"Not your fault" you waved it off, desperate to change the subject. "Can you go back to telling me about how excited your brothers are about this?" you laughed, trying to make a joke out of it.
And the way Choso had described their reactions to your text had brought a genuine smile to your face.
Choso flushed, that adorable surprised look showing up again. "I bet they'll wait for me up" he exhaled. "Even though its a school night" he added with a little scowl.
It made your head tip back in an honest laugh, all the sudden sadness replaced by warmth. "Are you going to ground them?" you teased.
Choso smiled again, watching you with relieved eyes, tightening his hold on your palm. "Probably not" he scrunched his nose. "I'm excited to tell them too"
You leaned forwards, lowering your voice just for him. "And what are you excited to tell them?" you asked.
Choso gulped, clearly second guessing what he wanted to say but still not breaking eye contact. "That I had a really great time" he said. "And that you're beautiful"
"You're really sweet" you blushed, holding his hand tighter just to steady yourself.
"Do you think I could…see you again?" Choso asked, a little shy. "Its Valentine's next weekend and I understand if its too soon–"
"You're asking me out for Valentine's?" you blinked hard, interrupting him, mouth hanging open just a little too long before you thought to close it.
"Um" Choso bit his lower lip, looking a bit unsure. "I am"
You almost couldn't believe he actually asked.
"I'd love to" you replied, surprised at how much you meant it.
Choso exhaled in relief, smiling sweetly like your reaction had surprised him just as much as the question had you.
He was so handsome it was unfair.
Torn between running as far away as you could and letting unshed tears of relief flow, you found yourself somewhere in the middle – allowing yourself to just be happy.
Yes, it would hurt when he inevitably left, but right now maybe you could… enjoy it.
Leave the regret to future you.
The conversation continued to flow, and Choso proved to be a gentleman every step of the way, even paying the bill in full as soon as the waiter returned – though you felt a little sad to let go of his hand after it had started to fit so comfortably on yours.
When it was time to leave, he insisted on walking you home. Walked on the side of the road, kept a watchful gaze around to make sure no trouble lurked in the dark streets, even pressed a hand to your upper back when you crossed the street.
There was no way he was real, you were convinced. This had to be an act.
…right?
Your footsteps stopped just in front of your door. Usually you'd have your keys around your fingers already, but not tonight.
Choso kept looking at you like he didn't want to let go either.
Shoulders tense, jaw tight like it was swallowing things he didn't know how to say, a little pout on his lips that made him look so ridiculously adorable.
You told yourself you wouldn't fuck anyone on a first date ever again, but when had you had a first date like this?
If it was going to crash and burn anyway, why not enjoy the high to the fullest?
Your eyes locked on his as Choso started to open his mouth, probably about to say he was excited for Valentine's, or thank you for your time, or whatever gentlemany thing he was surely about to come up with.
And it would all go through one ear and out the other because right now all you could focus on was the heat brewing between your legs. That, and the way his lips so beautiful parted like that.
So, naturally, you leaned forwards first.
Your hands snaked around his neck, pulling him in closer to you, and Choso didn't refuse. His own arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his, making you wish you were in the warmth of your house instead of the freezing cold of the outside, where there were far too many layers between you two.
You pushed yourself up to reach his height, lips chasing his as Choso met you halfway, digging his fingers deep into the skin of your hips, bringing them as close to his as possible.
You promised yourself you would take things slow, protect your heart. But my god – fucking look at him.
Choso moved one hand from your waist to tangle around your hair then, guiding your head to where he wanted it, his tongue dancing inside your mouth to taste every inch of you.
You could have sworn you heard him moan – a low delicious sound that reverbearted deep in your skull, making you pull him in so close until your bodies crashed against the wall, his frame caging you in fully.
Hopefully no neighbours were be around to see, you thought, but that thought vanished as quickly as it apprared.
You were completely focused on Choso.
Kind, handsome, sweet Choso, whose kiss was not gentle at all.
He kissed like he had to consume you whole, catching your lower lip between his teeth, biting sharply before sucking it in his to soothe the pain, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as all you could do was melt and pull him further in.
You so wanted to know what else that tongue could do.
"Ch-Cho" you whimpered into his lips, feeling the way he tugged at your hair just a little stronger, his hips rolling against yours where he pressed you against the wall.
"Yes, beautiful?" he asked, each syllable punctuated by a little peck, like he couldn't bear to leave your lips for too long.
"Do you want to come in?" you asked, digging your nails on his thick shoulders, laughing at the way he wouldn't let you speak.
But then Choso pulled away just slightly, close enough your noses still brushed, but his expressive eyes were locked on yours again, full of questions.
"Do you…want me to?" he asked, broad chest heaving up and down after all the excitement.
You swallowed, confused.
You didn't think you had ever been asked that before.
Conflicting feelings started brewing in your chest – from confusion, to relief, to…rejection.
The latter was the hardest to deal with.
"Do you not want to?" you asked, voice a little to snappy for your liking, but your ego had just taken a hit you hadn't expected.
And you must have clearly shown it, because Choso immediately leaned forwards again, kissing your lips so deep you both exhaled together. His hand reached to brush your cheek, tucking away loose strands of hair as he pulled back to look deep in your eyes once more.
"Of course I want to" he whispered, hot breath against your skin, making you ache for his lips again. "But I don't want you to think that's all I want"
Oh.
Well…that was new as well.
"It isn't?" you whispered, hating how whiny you sounded.
Choso looked genuinely hurt you had to ask, but he stayed unmoving. "It isn't" he confirmed.
He must have noticed the way you bit your lower lip awkwardly, clearly unsure what to do in such an…unfamiliar situation. Choso sighed audibly, lowering himself to place a warm kiss to your cheek this time.
"I'm looking forward to next weekend" he said, resting his forehead on yours.
You felt yourself swallow thickly, but nodded, leaning into the weight of him.
Maybe this wouldn't go like you predicted after all.
"You're home late" Yuuji hummed, wiggling his eyebrows at his brother – who damn nearly passsed out at the sound, after trying so hard to be as quiet as possible when walking in.
Yuuji sat on the armchair just opposite the front door, one lamp lit like he tried to recreate a scene out of a movie. Eso and Kechizu had clearly not lasten as long as their brother had, both bodies sprawled across the sofa, snoring faintly.
"You shouldn't still be up" Choso reprimanded, but try as he might he couldn't hide the joy in his voice.
"What happened to your mouth?" Yuuji squinted, a knowing smirk across his face.
"N-none of your business" Choso scowled, walking past his little brother as fast as he could.
"Bro" Yuuji called, and he had no choice but to stop moving. "Was it a good date?" he asked.
Choso turned his profile to him, letting out a surprised laugh. "It was a great date" he said, unlocking the door to his room.
Usually Choso would want nothing more than to chat to his brothers when he got home late, but he couldn't bear to let them see him like this.
Hair messy, clothes uneven, lips bitten and kiss bruised. And most important of all, his intoxicated face – despite not having had a drop of alcohol.
Choso pressed the back of his head against the door frame as soon as the door was locked, letting out a soft curse as his palm came to touch the obvious bulge in his trousers, too many years of pent up feelings coming to an explosion tonight.
Because of you.
The way you looked, the way you felt, the way you tasted.
Fuck.
His thick fingers stroked along his clothed length, head falling forwards as he bit already kiss bitten lip to stop the sounds of desire from leaving his lips.
What the hell had you done to him?
Your name echoed in his head, and most importantly, the way you had said his.
Choso stilled his hand, adding pressure to his bulge as he cursed at himself for being this weak. He wished it was your hand around his instead, could picture you so beautifully in front of him, stroking him with that playful smirk of yours.
He huffed out a deep breath, struggling with the sweat already forming on his brow.
Choso wanted you so fucking bad it was practically a need.
But he saw that look on your face earlier.
Who the hell had made you upset like that?
Yes, Choso wanted to touch you again, to feel your breath hot against his lips and make you moan all pretty for him.
But more than that – he wanted to see you smile. Hear the way you laughed when you were relaxed. Watch the way your eyes widened when he said something sweet.
It made him want to say it over and over again until you believed him.
Choso focused on his breathing, willing himself to calm down, feeling guilty and not wanting to lose himself in fantasy.
There was too much to do, anyway. Find out what the best restaurant to take you to was, buy you a valentines gift, figure out what the hell he was going to wear.
Choso didn't think he had ever felt this excited before. Definitely not for someone who wasn't even in his immediate family.
Definitely not for himself.
Definitely not for Valentine's.
How life could change so quick, he thought with a smile, unable to stop going over every little look and every little thing you had said tonight.
You shouldn't have been surprised Choso chose another gorgeous restaurant for your second date, but you were. The place was beautifully decorated – red candles flickering, roses scattered, a few heart shaped balloons you would have mocked as tacky a few days ago.
But today you thought they were perfect.
The day had actually come, hadn't it? February 14th, the date year after year you pretended didn't mean much.
Would laugh to your friends and lie about how you were totally fine with casual dates and even more casual sex.
You thought hardening your heart was the answer, but here you were – soft as freaking butter as soon as your eyes landed on him.
Choso looked so handsome again, hair down this time instead of the little twintails you had come to adore. It fell beautifully, framing the face that was already halfway into a bright smile just at the sight of you.
"You look gorgeous" were his first words, coming over to pull you into his arms, much more relaxed than your first date had been only a few days ago.
It did help that you spoke on the phone almost every night since, video calling in bed while you shared your day. You caught yourself writing thing down only to have more to tell him later, and he welcomed it with such softness every time.
You usually called around nine, and sometimes you'd stay on call until well past midnight, time just seeming to fly by.
Seeing his tired eyes threatening to close always made you laugh, but Choso made sure you were the one to fall asleep first.
His voice was the sweetest lullaby you could have asked for.
And hearing it in person was even better.
Surprisingly, Choso landed a kiss right to the top of your head instead of your lips, making you glad you could hide your undone expression in his chest.
No one ever kissed you there.
It felt so fucking nice.
"So do you" you smiled, looking up at him and his adorable red cheeks. "I like the hair" you winked.
Choso brought his hands to the place where the two buns usually would be. "It was Yuuji's idea" he murmured, seeming not completely convinced.
You could almost picture him standing there with that permanent pout while his younger brothers debated on his outfit.
Adorable.
"Tell Yuuji it was a good idea" you smiled.
"Maybe you could–um" Choso started to say, clearly catching himself halfway through. "I will" he said instead.
Always so bad at hiding what he was feeling.
You loved that about him.
Choso pulled the chair for you, settling on the one just opposite and extending a glass of wine. "Happy Valentine's day" he said.
"Happy Valentine's day" you echoed, clinking the glass that had been waiting for you on the table already.
"I got you something" Choso cleared his throat, looking for something on the spare chair next to him. "I hope it's not too much, but–"
He pulled a bouquet of red roses and a heart shaped box of chocolate bonbons.
Everything you made fun of your friends for wanting, but here you were staring at it like a lovesick fool.
"These are for me?" you reached for it, bottom lip bobbing pathetically.
"This is so sweet, Choso" your voice came out all shaky. "Thank you"
"It's not too much, is it?" he checked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Not at all" you shook your head sideways. "No one has ever…well, given me anything really"
"What?" Choso furrowed his brows, leaning forwards.
"Yeah" you nodded, too aware you didn't want to make a big deal out of this. "So thank you, Choso"
"Of course" he said, helping you put the gifts aside and reaching for your hand this time, that soft grounding touch you had missed all these days. "This is new for me too" he admited.
You gulped, pursing your lips to the side. "Why me?" you asked, hoping it wouldn't sound too desperate.
It's just that over the past few days, that was the question that kept popping over and over in your mind, making you second guess every kind word and nice gesture.
Why would anyone choose you?
And look, it's not that you were in some sort of self loathing pitying mindset. You knew you were smart, and kind, and beautiful.
But cursed.
Because you could accept that a few men out there were not very nice, but all of them?
The only common denominator there is you.
So it had to be you.
Right?
You were just cursed.
So why did Choso look at you like that?
And he looked like he was pondering it for a few seconds too, trying to find the right words.
And then he opened his mouth to speak.
"Have you seen yourself?" he asked, tone bewildered that you even had to ask that question.
And yes. You'd seen yourself. You were just surprised someone else had too.
"You really don't–" you stopped, taking a deep breath, interlacing your fingers together. "You really don't know what that means to me"
Choso dragged his chair to your side, bringing his free hand to the side of your face. He couldn't quite know what to say, so he settled on showing you instead.
With one hand cupping your cheek, he brought your face closer to his, lowering his body down for a kiss in the middle of the busy restaurant, not paying any mind to who might see or what they might think think.
And it made your heart skip a beat, the fact he was so open and honest about his affection. Choso's lips tasted just as sweet as they had before, a taste you so craved all through the last few days.
It settled something in you.
This was Choso making sure you understood how much it meant for him too.
"I really enjoyed tonight" Choso muttered hours later, holding both your hands in his, standing right on the spot where you had kissed good night a few nights ago.
Dinner had gone by too quick, every hour feeling like nothing but a second. You found yourself getting lost in him the longer you spent in his presence, the deep baritone in his voice pulling you in more than you ever thought possible.
Your first Valentine's day really was one to remember.
And you hoped all of it would be seered into your memory – from every stolen glance, every little chuckle you exchanged, every time you saw his cheeks flush when you teased a little too much.
It had been all you had ever asked for.
But now here you were. And it was about to end again.
Too soon.
It wasn't fair.
And what was especially not fair was the way his hands on yours made you feel, the way his face was so close you were practically begging him to kiss you already.
Was this the man you had been waiting for?
You so wanted to believe it.
If time showed you Choso was just like the rest of them, you'd probably just give up dating altogether.
"Me too" you muttered, swallowing to keep your composure, trying to not be too obvious.
The cold breeze signaled it was getting late as it encompassed the both of you, but it felt like your own little little pocket of heat when you were next to him like this. Choso looked so handsome up close, and you really took the time to pay attention to every little detail of that beautiful face as it smiled down at you.
Though your eyes struggled to leave his lips.
His plump, delicious lips that you knew tasted like heaven.
Why the hell were you still waiting, again?
"I'd love to see you again, if you–" Choso started to say.
But you couldn't take it any longer.
You practically jumped on the man, using the fact your hands were clasped together to pull his around your waist, finally leting go to cup his handsome face.
Fortunately Choso was as impatient as you were.
His hands gripped your back instictively, steadying you as he leaned forwards too, meeting you for the kiss you both so desperately craved. "Is that a yes?" he tried to ask, laughing as your teeth clanked and your tongues danced in a messy, desperate kiss.
"Yes, Choso" you confirmed, both of you breaking the kiss to laugh together. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders, bunching his shirt in your fists, so full of desire it made you a little self conscious.
But Choso's ragged breathing and flushed face suggested he felt the same.
Fucking on the second date wasn't too bad…right?
You couldn't quite decide when his mouth was on your neck like this, teeth grazing the sensitive tendon as you threw your head back to allow him in.
Had he been picturing this as much as you were?
You hoped so.
"Fuck, Cho" you whimpered, and Choso took it as a cue to effortlessly lift you off your feet. His hands were on your thighs, wrapping them around his waist and pressing your back right against the wall.
"I love when you say my name like that" Choso muttered, pressing his forehead to your collarbone, trying to catch his breath while holding you so impossibly close.
"You like that, Cho?" you teased, and his response was a guttural groan that had your thighs clenching around his waist.
Choso gripped your legs so hard they would probably bruise, rolling his hips against yours deliciously, making you feel every inch of the thick bulge in his trousers.
"Behave" he nipped at your earlobe, reminding you of the show you were putting on for the whole street.
You pulled back just a little, tucking his dark strands away from his eyes. "Do you want to come in?" you asked, biting your lower lip in a way he could barely resist.
Choso placed a gentle kiss to your cheek, breathing in your scent. "Are you sure?" he asked, brushing your noses together.
"I am" you smiled. You didn't think you had ever been so sure about anything. "Are you?"
Choso nodded, lowering you down gently. He let you turn around to open the door, but his hands never left your body – hugging your waist as his lips continued that enticing path across your neck.
At this rate, you weren't sure you'd even make it inside.
Once the door finally opened, you chucked your keys aside and pulled him in with a hand tightly wrapped around his thick forearm, giggling and smirking as you pulled your date towards your bedroom as fast as you could.
You flicked the lights on, already removing your jacket as Choso worked on his heavy boots. You two looked ridiculous – ripping layers off as fast as possible, unable to keep your lips from each other as your giddy, eager laughs filled the room.
You only stopped moving when Choso finally removed his shirt, revealing those tattoos you had been so curious about. His torso was defined and broad and perfectly sculped, veiny forearms working on removing his belt while you watched wide eyed, hypnotised.
His dark eyes turned to you, a curious glint gracing them. You were still fully clothed, having completely forgotten to finish the job once he was half naked in front of you.
Choso's smirk suggested he knew exactly what was happening inside your mind.
And then he slowly lowered down to his knees – eyes locked on yours while moving with intent, bringing his lips to your stomach as he started bunching up the fabric of your dress.
"Ch-choso?" you whimpered when his tongue found your bare skin, doing as he wished and finally pulling the dress fully over your head for him, leaving you only in your underwear.
"Yes?" Choso asked, thick hands stroking your bare skin, kissing your stomach open mouted and wet like it had been your mouth.
You weren't sure if you felt self conscious or not – no one had ever worshipped your body like that before. But your hands kept tangling around his hair, inviting him in, enjoying the motions of his head as it explored every inch of you.
And then he pulled away to look at you properly, staring at you from his spot on the floor below. "Fuck" Choso muttered, stroking his bulge with one hand as he used the other to continue his exploration of your body, feather light strokes like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch something so precious. "You're so beautiful" he muttered.
You really believed it when he said it.
Your hands pulled his hair slightly, shoving him back into your torso as he happily resumed the eager kissing. His mouth started trailing further south with each one, stopping right at the edge of your underwear as Choso inhaled your scent.
Two hands teased the bands around your waist, but his mouth was impatient, kissing your already dripping cunt over your clothes, tongue pushing the fabric aside to taste you properly.
He dragged it across your slit, humming in delight at your taste. And then he was dragging it upwards, exploring every inch, pressing firmly against your clit in a way that made you tremble.
"Oh fuck" you mumbled, losing balance, but Choso was right there to catch you.
He guided you to the edge of the bed, helping you sit down, your body already shaking with excitement. Choso guided your legs to open slowly, taking another good look at you and the wetness between your legs. His knees were still on the floor, trousers half undone.
You loved looking at him from above. At his pupils blown wide, some of your slick glistening on his kiss bitten lips.
So fucking hot.
Choso extended two hands, hovering unsure. "Can I?" he asked, reaching for your bra, waiting for your eager nod to unbutton it as fast as he could, finally sinking his head into your chest.
You closed your hands around him, like taking him in for a deep embrace. "You're so beautiful" Choso kept saying, closing both his large palms over your breasts, whimpering as his lips explored one nipple and then the other. "Fuck, thank you" he moaned, leaving little love bites all over you.
You couldn't help giggling at his eagerness, hands pulling his strands to force his face as deep into you as possible. Your hips rolled over the bed, desperate for stimulation.
Choso seemed to notice.
"Needy girl, huh?" he snickered, bringing one hand from your breast to in between your thighs, teasing over the fabric. "So wet baby –need to taste you again"
"Y-yeah?" you muttered pathetically, trying to fuck yourself back into his hand, as Choso let out a little laugh.
"Mmmh" he hummed, finally pushing the fabric aside, letting out a deep exhale when he fully touched your heat. "Want me to make you feel good?" Choso asked, finding your lips again.
"Please" you nodded, closing your lips over his, tasting the faint trace of you on his tongue.
Choso bit your bottom lip, drinking up your moans as he sunk a thick finger inside you finally. "So pretty when you beg like that, baby" he groaned.
His finger slowly pumped in and out of you, curling just right, as he pulled back from the kiss because he couldn't bear not admiring the way your face contorted in pleasure.
"Can you take one more?" Choso asked, practically drooling when you nodded yes and felt him stretch you further. "Fuck" he cooed, admiring how you adjusted for him. "Just like that, pretty"
His thumb reached over to rub at your clit, making your body jolt in surprise.
"Shh" Choso shushed, snaking his other arm around your back to keep you how he wanted you. "Let me take care of you"
His words were driving your insane, his touch even more so, head swimming in pleasure and drunk on the attention you so rarely got from past lovers.
If you knew he'd touch you like that, you'd have fucked him right there in that library on the day you met.
Your toes curled as his fingers did the same, touching you exactly where you needed him when your vision started turning blotchy and your moans louder. Your head fell on to his shoulder fully, as you tried to just relax into the unmeasurable pleasure.
"I'm gonna–" you tried to say, biting your bottom lip.
"Let go for me, beautiful" he hummed, enjoying the way you clenched around his fingers.
And then you did, body shaking with your release as Choso's fingers kept fucking you through it, little praises leaving his mouth as you came all over his hand.
You couldn't believe you had already had your first orgasm and he was still wearing clothes.
But Choso didn't mind it at all – if anything, he couldn't have been happier.
Once you finally came down, Choso softly lowered you fully onto the bed. "You ok?" he checked, kissing the side of your face, pampering you with caresses.
But "ok" didn't even begin to cut it.
You were in fucking heaven.
You wrapped a hand around his, bringing it to your lips as you smiled a lustful smile up at your date. Your tongue lolled out slowly, as Choso watched you wide eyed, waiting for what you were about to do. The tip finally came into contact with his fingers, licking the taste of you off him slowly, never breaking the eye contact.
Choso's mouth was open in a halfway oh as he watched you mesmerised. His fingers pressed against your mouth, asking for entrance as you gladly parted your lips for him, sucking on his thick digits fully.
"Fuck…" Choso exhaled, admiring such a lewd, gorgeous sight.
You quickly brought your hands to finish what he hadn't earlier, finally pushing his trousers and boxers out of the way in just one go, his cock practically jumping out.
Choso was long, overwhelmingly thick, and already leaking all over himself.
He let out a guttural groan when your hand wrapped around his length, stroking him up and down while your mouth still working on sucking his fingers clean. Choso lowered himself onto an elbow, hips moving with the motion of your hand, moaning at your touch.
"That–feels really good" he groaned, a hot sound against your ear.
You couldn't take it any longer.
With a quick movement, you pushed yourself over to stradle him. Choso brought both hands to your hips, watching as you hovered just over his tip, which was jerking and begging for attention.
He propped himself halfway up, kissing your mouth once more, thick veiny hands pressing you flush against him. A little ahh escaped your lip when he dragged your hips over his swollen tip, over and over again.
"You're ready?" he whispered, kissing along your jaw, breahting ragged in anticipation.
"Mmh" you nodded, tipping your head back and dragging yourself along his length once more, desperate for the friction.
"Yeah?" he bit his lip, the wait clearly driving him insane, but Choso was enjoying your need far too much. "Fuck, baby" he whimpered, coating himself with your slick.
Choso placed his hands back on your hips, slowly helping you sink down, taking his time for you to adjust to the stretch.
"Doing so well for me" he kept praising. "You feel so fucking good"
But you missed most of his words because you just felt so impossibly full.
You were only halfway in and the stretch was already maddening, your upper body falling against his chest as Choso caressed your hair, moving his hips in slow circles.
"That's it" he cooed, kissing the side of your head. "Take your time" he kept saying.
His words made you melt into him, and the more you relaxed, the deeper you felt him sink. Your hands were fisting against him, body struggling to fit all of him, but it just felt so fucking good.
"Cho" you mumbled, sounding drunk on him already – but his voice wasn't any better.
"Y-yeah, ngh, beautiful?" Choso whimpered, trying and failing to mantain his composure as the girl of his dreams was all slumped on top of him, stretching around him beautifully.
"I can take it" you whispered, unsure if it was even the truth but just needing to feel more of him. His response was two hands digging deeper into you, the back of his head falling back into the mattress as he took a deep breath in to get ready.
Choso started moving his hips then, pulling you up and down his length as he moved you effortlessy, using your body to pleasure you both as all you could do was moan out his name helplessly, begging him to go harder and faster and deeper all at once.
You were already a babbling mess and you had barely even started.
But Choso thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen – you trusting him like that, taking him like that.
So perfect for him.
It was such a tight fit you could feel every vein and ridge of his cock, body milking him with every thrust as you moaned out his name, his cock reaching impossibly deep inside you.
"Fuck" Choso groaned, turning the two of you around in a quick move so he was on top, rutting into you faster now that the angle allowed him to put all his strenght into it.
Your nails dug deep, drawing blood from his upper back, but neither of you noticed. Your moans were growing louder, more incoherent, begging him to let you come.
Choso's hands kneaded all over your flesh, needing to feel every inch of you, but as soon as those pretty words left your lips, he moved a hand to your neglected clit.
"You look so perfect like that, baby" he moaned. "Can you–fuck, come for me again?"
You kept nodding, feeling that knot deep inside begin to untie, not even caring about how loud you were being because Choso matched you in every way – breathing loudly, moaning out your name, whimpering with no abandon. His sounds drove you insane.
You were quickly coming undone on him, making a mess all over the sheets underneath as you reached your peak for the second time that night. Choso brought a hand to the back of your head as your body curved inwards, holding you against his bare chest.
The beating of his heart echoed in your ears, so loud and all encompassing as it carried you through your high.
Choso was quick to follow you, announcing he was about to come with a low groan, pulling out just in time to spill his seed all over your stomach. "Fuck, I-I'm sorry" he struggled to say, breathing hard.
"Don't be" you laughed, pulling him to come and lay next to you, not caring at all about the mess the two of you had made. If anything, you were glad for it.
Choso threw himself down and pulled you right onto him, cradling your body despite the mix of fluids and sweat. He kissed the top of your head repeatedly, rubbing your arms softly. "You did so well" he praised. "How are you feeling?"
Your response was a low hum as you further nuzzled into him, the most satisfied of smiles on your lips.
"Do you want to shower together?" he asked, softly stroking your hair. "If that's ok?" he added, like he had just remembered this was your house.
But his question almost made you laugh.
You had done that first part plenty of times, sure. With too many people who didn't deserve it.
No one had ever hugged you close after.
Le alone asked if you wanted to shower together.
You were almost not sure you weren't dreaming.
"Cho" you whispered, tightening your hold over him, needing to make sure he was real. "Can you promise me you won't leave?"
You hated how pathetic and small you sounded, but you couldn't help it.
You just needed to hear him say it.
Choso took a second to fully understand your words. And when he did, he immediately pulled you up towards his face, concerned eyes locked on yours. "Who made you believe I would?" he asked, tone stern, but not at you. Never at you.
It made your throat tighten, eyes welling up despite all your efforts to not ruin anything.
"Hey" Choso muttered gently, noticing the emotion in your face. "I'm not going anywhere" he whispered, dragging a thumb below your eyes to catch any tears that tried to fall. "Unless you want me to" he completed.
"I don't want you to" you shook your head, leaning into his hand as it cupped your cheek. "I want you to stay"
"Then I'm staying" he kissed your cheek, pulling you down again.
And maybe it would take you a while to believe it.
But you were glad to give it a shot anyway.
Something told you you wouldn't regret it.
"We should probably shower" you giggled, pulling a face at how messy you two were, the smell of sex filling the room.
"We should" he agreed, laughing with you. "Do you want to order some food too? I'm getting hungry again"
"Yeah" you said, voice strained at the thought alone. "We can do that"
Choso seemed very happy about it already, and you suspected he didn't even know how much something as simple as takeout and a shower meant to you.
Maybe one day it wouldn't be such an unusual thing.
Maybe one day this could be routine.
But one step at a time.
Right now, you were happy to just be here.
Celebrating your very first Valentine's day.
a/n thank you so much for reading! this story really took over my life for a bit, and i'm so excited to share it finally. wishing you all a wonderful valentine's day <3
୧ synopsis it's not easy, falling in love with someone who is still getting over someone else. sukuna learned to be patient for you, but as his affection for you grows, so does his hatred for the man who made you so scared of love in the first place.
୧ wc 3.9k
୧ content mdni, angst, smut, some fluff too, hurt/comfort, sukuna pov, falling in love, very anxious reader, jealousy, post reader and gojo breakup, sex on the first night, protected piv sex, overstimulation, making out, biting, a little bit of a breeding kink, crying after sex, and a lot of crying in general, aftercare, moving on, posesssive sukuna
୧ a/n this is sukuna's pov of the story, you can find the other parts in this collection! this can be read as part 3 or as a oneshot too. art by @/riyalise & divider by @/diviniyae
"Who is that?"
Sukuna himself was surprised to hear the words leave his lips, but he couldn't help the curiosity.
He found himself sitting on an uncomfortable stool in someone's house party he somehow got convinced to attend, surrounded by the same boring faces as always – until he noticed a new one.
A new girl, sitting on a sofa far ahead, involved in the party but… not really. You had a tight hold on your phone, and you glanced at the screen every few seconds like you were waiting for a message that never came.
It made Sukuna anxious just watching it.
And right now watching was exactly what he was doing.
It wasn't just the fact your face had made his heart skip an awkward beat inside his chest when you walked past, not even noticing him. Nor was it the fact you seemed to prefer sitting alone rather than engaging with the rest of the party, something he could relate to well enough.
No, there was something else about you too. You just seemed so… sad.
Smiling a pleasant smile whenever anyone approached, nodding your head and making conversation as you were expected to, sure – but that odd veil never seemed to lift from behind your eyes.
Sukuna wondered how none of the other idiots here had noticed.
"My friend" Yuki answered his question with a raised eyebrow, in a tone that said she was shocked Sukuna had even noticed anyone else's presence in the room apart from his own.
He was well aware of other people's assumptions of him, so he didn't bother replying to her taunt. "Is she alright?" Sukuna asked instead, after he watched you check your phone for what had to be the tenth time in a single minute.
Yuki sighed, turning to take a look at you with a solemn expression herself. "She's going through a tough time" was all she said.
Sukuna didn't like the sound of that at all.
So he decided he wanted to change that.
He lifted himself up and walked right past Yuki, picking up a fresh bottle of beer on the table while he was at it. The blonde seemed curious but let him be, turning to rejoin the party as Sukuna strode far away from everyone, and towards you.
"This seat taken?"
His voice took your eyes away from your phone, tilting your head up to blink at him in surprise. Your eyebrows scrunched together, and he watched you quickly scan your surroundings, trying to figure out if there was anyone else he could be speaking to.
"No" you replied, almost like a question, but you moved to the side so he could take the seat next to you on the small sofa.
Sukuna sat down awkwardly, his broad frame taking up most of the seat, but you didn't seem to mind. "Here" he grunted, passing you the fresh bottle while bringing his own to his lips.
You were surprised at the gesture, but had no choice in accepting. Not with the way Sukuna was practically shoving the cold glass into your hands and forcing you to drop your phone onto your lap.
"Is that for me?" you asked, as if it wasn't obvious.
"Who else would it be for?" he asked, instantly regretting how sharp he sounded.
But you didn't scoff, or roll your eyes, or call him an asshole like most people seemed to do. Instead, you laughed – only a small chuckle, but some tension finally seemed to ease from your shoulders.
Naturally, his own shoulders dropped as well.
"Thank you" you muttered, hands closing around the bottle, phone now forgotten to your side.
Sukuna didn't know why you were so attached to that thing, but he seemed to understand it was a good thing you had finally let go of it. "Let me" he said, searching for his keys inside his pocket to remove the bottle cap for you.
It was only a favour, something that had no business feeling this intimate. But Sukuna was far too aware of how his thigh brushed against yours when he leaned in, of how close you allowed him to move into your space even if just for a second.
The sound of air escaping the freshly opened bottle matched how his own finally leaving his lungs, he realised.
"Thank you again" you smiled kindly. And then, to his surprise, it was your turn to lean into him – you extended your hand, clinking your bottles together. "Cheers" you said, completely unaware of how you had surprised him.
Sukuna nodded, reciprocating the gesture. He watched you tilt your head back as you drank, followed the curve of your neck and noted the beautiful angle it made with your shoulders. He hid his crimson gaze behind his own drink, but anyone else around would have noticed – Sukuna was fucking hypnotised.
You finally lowered your hand with a satisfied hum, opening the first real smile he had seen the whole evening. "I needed that" you sighed.
Both your hands closed around the cold glass, phone still forgotten.
"Not having fun?" Sukuna asked, tilting his head to meet your gaze. You were close, very close, but you didn't seem intimidated by him like everyone else.
How intriguing, he thought.
"I am" you replied, looking away – maybe because you were nervous, Sukuna hoped, or maybe because you were lying.
"Are you?" he questioned, keeping his eyes locked on your face. You struggled to hold his gaze, blinking towards him and then away, until you finally sighed and understood you couldn't lie to him that easily.
"It's been a long week" you confessed, looking down at your hands.
Sukuna let that hang in the air for a moment, letting the weight of what you said sit with both of you instead of you alone.
"Yeah?" was all he managed to say. He wasn't good with things like that, but fuck if this pretty girl at the party didn't make him want to try.
You only nodded, looking down at your hands. He saw your eyes blink down, then to your phone by your side, then down again, and finally… to him.
You opened a little smirk, more self pitying than anything – and it was right then that Sukuna decided he wasn't giving up until he saw that real smile again.
"Let's change that" he said.
Three hours later, Sukuna had you crying for a completely different reason than whoever the fuck had gotten you that upset in the first place.
"Kuna, fuck– I can't–" you moaned as your legs only pulled him closer, your hands clawing at his shoulders in desperate need, face all scrunched in a mess of delicious tears that he was enjoying kissing away.
"You can" he groaned against your skin, slamming his hips into yours again, earning a loud whimper that sounded like music to his ears. "Taking it so fucking well for me"
You brought your hands to his face again, chasing his lips desperately. He had one hand rubbing small circles against your clit, determined to get a second orgasm out of you before he had even had one himself.
When he had suggested leaving the party together, Sukuna hadn't necessarily expected this was where the two of you would end up. But hell, he wasn't mad about it.
As it turned out, you looked even more beautiful crying from pleasure.
"I'm gonna–" you whined as your back arched, body trembling slightly as Sukuna kept slamming into you through your high, enjoying the way your eyes rolled back and you completely let go, suspended in bliss and relief.
"There you go" he smiled, biting the side of your neck. "Knew you had it in you" he teased, and you let out an elated laugh, bringing him closer.
"You feel so good" you hummed, and Sukuna decided he wanted to push himself up just to see your euphoric face. He brought his two hands to close around yours, pushing both above your head as he interlaced your fingers together, hovering just above you as he admired you like a painting.
"Good" he replied with a sly smile, a particularly harsh thrust punctuating the sentiment. "You're fucking gorgeous"
Too gorgeous, he thought.
"You think so?" you asked, and he hated how surprising that was to you.
He kissed you again, as if to prove a point. Your mouth parted and your tongues danced, with all the excitement of an unexpected night, but far too intimate for a one night stand. "Gorgeous" he repeated, biting your lower lip.
"Th-thank you" you tried to say, and Sukuna laughed against your lips. Who the fuck thanks someone during sex for just stating a fact?
Why would he be sleeping with you if he didn't think you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, after all?
"Kuna" you moaned, that stupid nickname you had given him after your first orgasm, but he was beginning to like it. He enjoyed thinking he made you feel so good that his full name was just too much effort.
"Go on, say it again" he rasped to your ear, hips rolling deliciously into you.
"Kuna–" you whimpered, legs closing around him, and your voice was the thing that finally tipped him over the edge.
Your nails dug into the back of his hands but Sukuna didn't let up, pining you with all his weight as you happily took everything he was giving you. Spilling everything inside the protection he was wearing, but he caught himself wishing there was no barrier between you.
Maybe next time, he thought, letting hope slip out in his blissful state.
Sukuna's hips stilled finally, face coming to the crook of your neck. He left a kiss there, followed with one to your jaw, tasting the sweaty mess he had made of you, and then one to your cheek – your salty tears prickled his lips, but when he noticed your chest move up and down far too quickly, he started to worry they weren't from pleasure this time.
Sukuna pulled away from you fast, scrunching his forehead as he watched tears pour out of your eyes; slowly, not dramatic, like you simply couldn't stop them from escaping.
His breathing completely stopped, everything about him going very still.
"Did I hurt you?"
"N-no" you said as fast as you could, shaking your head sideways and attempting a smile. But Sukuna was not happy with your response still.
"Are you sure?" he prodded, not meaning to sound so stern, but everything in him was in high alert. His crimson eyes didn't leave yours, but his hands started roaming the curves of your body, caressing in slow circles to soothe whatever it was that had you crying like that under him.
Was he too rough? Was it too much?
Were you scared of him like everyone else?
To his surprise though, you let out a little wet laugh. "You're sweet" you said, opening a beautiful smile that completely undid him, despite the wetness all over your face.
Fuck, he thought.
Sukuna hoped you couldn't see it, but he was almost certain he was blushing.
"Tch" he grunted, rolling around to settle next to you and pull you into him. "No one else would say that"
"You are" you replied while Sukuna turned you to him without any struggle, resting your head right on his broad chest. He was so warm, you thought, letting yourself sink into him.
"Then why are you crying?" he asked again, unwilling to let it go. Sukuna tangled a large palm on your hair, softly caressing the back of your head, trying to figure out what the hell he could do to help.
"I didn't expect to, I–" you tried to explain, but those crimson eyes were back on you, and his other hand around your waist had you somehow trusting you could just be honest with him.
"I'm scared you'll leave" you admitted finally, voice too small.
Sukuna pulled away from you just slightly, just so he could see your face. "Why would I leave?" he asked, like the notion alone was ridiculous.
You swallowed thickly, struggling to meet his eyes. "You won't?" you asked pitifully, looking anywhere but him.
He wanted to kiss you to prove it. Wanted to hold you all night and fuck you again and again so you'd finally get in your head how much he wanted you.
But he could tell this went far deeper than just insecurities.
"Who made you think like that?"
Sukuna hadn't expected his question would bring more tears to your eyes, and it was almost like he could see you shut him away in real time. Your eyes fell downwards, and your hands played with your own nails instead of gripping him like he wanted – clearly something still too painful hiding just under the surface.
So he didn't let you. "Hey" he called, bringing his hand to your chin now, to force your eyes up. "I'm not going anywhere" he reassured.
It sounded like the right thing to say, and he knew he fucking meant it, but why the hell did he feel like it only made you pull away even more?
"You don't have to do that" you shook your head, hiding into his side and attempting to sound more composed. "Sorry, I'm sure the last thing you want is a one night stand cryi–"
"Stop" he interrupted then, stern. In one swift move, Sukuna was on top of you, taking on the role of cleaning your face with his gruff finger tips, trying very hard to be gentle.
He could see it in your face how surprised you were. How you expected to mean nothing to him. Sukuna was used to people assuming he slept around, but truth was, he didn't – Sukuna didn't really do one night stands. Today had been as an anomaly for you, as it was for him.
So the fact you were crying, thinking he would just dispose of you like that? That pissed him off more than anything.
"I'll get you some water" he announced, leaving a gruff kiss to your forehead. "Then we can have a bath, and then you can tell me. If you want" he completed, far too aware of how serious he was sounding.
The last thing he wanted was to scare you.
But you smiled, surprising him again with a shy nod. "That sounds nice" you murmured.
He could have sworn your hand tried to cling to him as he stood up, but he wasn't even sure you were aware of it.
Sukuna did as he promised, taking care of you for the rest of the night. He cleaned you up, dressed you in his old oversized shirt that looked much better on you than it ever had on him, and held you tight for the whole night.
You didn't want to tell him why you were crying then, but you had time. This wasn't the only night you spend together, after all.
Sukuna hated to admit it, but ever since then, you barely left his mind. What started on that unexpected night turned into something more meaningful, day after day, kiss after kiss – but still, you struggled to tell him what made you so scared.
He tried to figure it out himself, piercing together little bits of information you had given him, mind always conjuring up the worse case scenario.
He just had to understand why it never mattered how often you spoke or how nice your day was – when it was time to say goodbye, he could see the silent fear creep up all over your beautiful face.
You tried your best to hide it, but he didn't want you to.
Sukuna didn't mind reassuring you, not really. Sometimes just an extra hug when you needed. A kiss to your forehead. A promise that he'd call later. He understood you just needed confirmation he wouldn't leave. Needed confirmation that you meant something.
Why the hell did you think you didn't?
That was the part that drove him mad.
And the day you finally decided to tell him, he understood.
It was a grim story about some asshole called Satoru Gojo.
Satoru Gojo. The name alone made him sick.
He didn't even know the guy, but every time you opened up more, his hatred only grew.
It wasn't nice to be falling for someone who was still getting over someone else, but Sukuna learned to be patient for you.
Sometimes you pulled away, talked down on yourself, expected nothing but pain from the unavoidable feelings that were starting to grow; but Sukuna was always there to pull you back. He didn't blame you for it, after all, it wasn't your fault – it was his.
The man who had taken your heart only to step on it with no care for how it left you to take up the pieces.
Satoru Gojo.
Sukuna looked up the asshole everywhere online, like a predator stalking his prey. He had to know. Everything in him was consumed by how much he despised the man that made you believe you were cursed.
He found his profiles easily enough, clearly the idiot enjoyed showing off. He had to admit he was good looking – white hair and blue eyes and a confident smile. Rich too, it seemed. The type of guy who felt entitled to use people, Sukuna rolled his eyes with a scoff.
It wasn't nice to imagine there were probably pictures of him out there that you were in too. With that easy smile of yours – the one Sukuna only saw rarely, only at times you let yourself truly relax.
You probably smiled like that more often before him, didn't you?
He hated imagining the two of you together, but Sukuna wasn't jealous – he couldn't be, when he was the one you turned to. The one you were slowly letting into your heart; and Sukuna was in no rush.
Not jealousy, he reassured himself, heart hammering into his chest as he held you tight in the night, your nails digging into his bicep like you were trying to cling on even in sleep.
Definitely not jealous, he thought again, when your gorgeous smile returned one day and Sukuna caught himself wondering how anyone could have it in them to hurt you.
Not jealous – angry, Sukuna settled on, fantasizing about punching that smug grin right out of Satoru Gojo's face, on a night you had cried when telling him about how you felt disposable.
Who knew opportunity would actually present itself.
That one fateful day, Sukuna had been waiting too long where you were supposed to meet before he decided to walk back and look for you.
What was probably only five minutes had felt like a life time. You were never late. Sukuna was fucking worried.
So he walked back, fast, turning a street corner and then another, until he finally saw you from across the street.
Oh. Maybe he was jealous, he realised.
Because standing on the other side was you, clearly upset, clearly holding back tears – and across from you, the man he had only ever seen in pictures.
With his hand holding yours.
Sukuna's owns instinctively curled into fists as he rushed to your side, vision turning red.
"Hey" he yelled, crossing the street. "The fuck is going on here?"
Your eyes immediately snapped to him, managing to relax him the tiniest bit. You rushed to him, pressing two palms to his chest, pleading with him with your teary eyes. "Kuna, it's ok" you said, and he went over every little detail of your face to reassure himself that you really were ok.
And then, his crimson eyes shifted up.
Now that he was this close, Sukuna could see it clearly. That truth he could only have assumed before.
This Satoru Gojo was pathetic.
With his stupid mouth slightly agape, brows furrowing together like he was confused at what was happening.
Yeah, asshole, Sukuna thought. She's with me.
"Who the fuck do you think you are" he snarled, pulling you into his chest. "Putting your hands on my girl?"
The way the other man's face fell gave him all the satisfaction he needed, that smug face contorting like the words had physically pained him.
Good, Sukuna thought, not a sliver of sympathy.
You had completely hidden your face into his chest now, knowing exactly where safe was. Sukuna could feel how your breathing had changed, could feel the wetness in his shirt. "Please don't yell" you sobbed, and his heart hurt hearing you like that.
"He made you cry?" Sukuna asked, all focus back on you. His beautiful girl. His.
Crying because of this idiot.
His hatred towards Satoru was only outweighed by his love for you; Sukuna was fully focused on wiping each tear away, tenderly brushing his finger tips over your cheeks.
"I'm sorry I was late" you murmured to him, leaning into his touch. It was unfair how you could undo him like this – this was meant to be the big stand off he had been dreaming about. His chance to beat up the guy who had made you so scared of love.
But now, he found himself wanting nothing more than to make you smile again.
"Don't" he replied with a kiss to the top of your head. "Got me worried sick, and then I find you upset and this asshole with his hands on you–"
"We just ran into each other" you shook your head, hands balling into his shirt. The nice one he had bought for your date specifically. "It's ok"
Hell. You sounded so apologetic. As if you had done something wrong by happening to run into the guy.
You looked at Sukuna with those pleading eyes that begged him to forgive you for whatever crime you thought you had committed. Even in this moment, so scared he'd just leave.
Sukuna hated this.
And right there – the man who made you think like that.
So close. So fucking close.
And he had the audacity to try and hold your hand.
Everything in Sukuna wanted to confront Satoru, but all his focus was on you.
Making sure you were ok.
Making sure you were safe.
Making sure you were away from him.
"He the one you told me about?" Sukuna asked you, even though he already knew the answer. He held you right where you were, your back to the white haired man, refusing to let him have another fucking look at you. "Let me get you out of here" he said kindly, helping you walk away.
You followed, standing by Sukuna's side, leaning into him for comfort as you continued forwards with your eyes glued to the floor.
And as you both walked away from him, Sukuna couldn't help another look back.
At his challenger. His rival. The man whose ghost still clung on to you in your darkest moments.
Satoru Gojo.
A man he hated so much, but right now looked nothing but pitiful.
Sukuna wasn't moved by his desperate tears. He was convinced Satoru Gojo didn't care for anyone but himself, anyway.
Part of him did regret not throwing that punch he so desperately wanted.
And as much as he hoped with everything in him that you'd never run into Gojo again – Sukuna hoped he would.
