#[ ♔ heavy is the head. ]

[destinedgray]

Andreas/Aren always had every intention to attend and prepared for it. He wears attire that has a touch of both modern and old. The cape has gold leaves sewn into it that match the gold of the mask and belt. Besides that, there are a few completely natural vines running over his arms, chest and neck. The theme is very much earth and nature for Silenus but also because, while it isn't the element he has most affinity for (he doesn't really have a specific affinity to any of them), it is his favorite element because of Evy.

[venusjeon]

angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he’d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

[couronnez]

@sophierequests

i had 

                    all 

                          &&  then most of you 

                          some 

                                       &&  now none of you

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you - in this chap it's Satoru Gojo x mistress, Nanami x you It's messy and will get messier :)

♔ Warnings: Sex, infidelity, mentions of past self harm, disordered eating of the reader, descriptions of reader physically (just ties in with the story here) panic attacks, cheating on both ends, cruelty from Duke Gojo, cunnilingus, fingering, slapping, toxic attraction. OOC. ANGST. Say hello to Mr. Nanami again hehe. Gojo is TERRIBLE still, you're warned

♔ Word count this chap: 8.8k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

Taglist open

Part Three ♔ Masterlist ♔ Playlist

Part Four

One week Later

“It’s a deformed bunny, disgusting.” Duke Gojo says, shivering in disgust as you now are the proud owner of a pretty little Pomeranian, courtesy of Lord Geto and Lady Shoko, who are both standing in front of you now. You gasp, glaring at him, looking haughty in his pristine white suit.

“It is not! He’s beautiful, aren’t you baby?” You coo, caressing the soft white fur of the puppy. Satoru rolls his blue eyes, white lashes fluttering as he does.

“He sort of looks quite like you, Satoru.” Shoko says then with a snicker, and Gojo glares at her, as Geto pets the puppy along with you, before kissing your cheek, earning a furious glare from Gojo.

“Excuse me, Sugu, what are you doing?”

“What, you said you don’t even like her. What would you care?” Suguru pecks your cheek again, and you giggle, eyes glittering as you look up at him, putting your hand on his shoulder as he grins.

“You’ll respect me in my home, thank you very much. No decorum.” Gojo gets scoffed at by all three of you then, as his Mistress slinks down the winding staircase, and Shoko bursts out in laughter. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not excused. Really, she was my servant!? I wondered where she went… she was stealing all my silverware.” The Mistress blushes then, and you can’t stop your giggle. Shoko is gorgeous, with tired, dark eyes and dark hair piled high, you errantly notice Suguru eyeing her just a bit here and there, and you look between the two.

Hmm, they would look good together, wouldn't they?

You know they’ve always been friends, the three of them, and if you could save anyone the pain of a loveless marriage you would. You put the puppy down then, as Shoko smacks Satoru in the back of the head, making him duck down in pain, before snatching him up by the ear. His mistress runs off now, clearly reading the room, she was also afraid of you.

It’s odd, you were too nice to one, then apparently too mean to the other. Navigating Satoru’s Mistresses was difficult.

“Ow, you little-” Satoru huffs, bringing your attention back to Shoko wailing on him now.

“You’re such a royal asshole. Maybe I’ll smack some sense into you. Inviting a Mistress to dinner? Flaunting her?” Satoru glares at Suguru then, who just shrugs, a smile on his handsome features.

“You told her everything!?” He demands, and Suguru just gives a little nod, as Shoko drags him into another room.

“She’s amazing.” You say in admiration, and Suguru chuckles into his hand a bit, before brushing back your hair fondly.

“Told you I’d bring a gift.” You lean up, pecking his cheek then, watching his high cheekbones flush.

“You did, and the best gift ever, oh Lord Geto you’re so amazing.” You hold his hand tightly, as the memories of your kiss hit. You flush a bit yourself as he grips your hand and brushes his lips gently.

“Suguru, please my Lady. We’re close now, you know.” He says huskily, and you feel your pulse race at his intent.

“Indeed, we are. But… may I say, you and Lady Shoko? You both would make such a couple.” He flushes more now, looking away and clearing his throat.

“We are just friends, Duchess.”

“Mmm, marriages are built off worse. Look at me.” Suguru frowns now, sighing as he looks down at you. “You both are of high status as well. Just something to consider, I’d hate for you to feel something like this.”

“The difference is, I would try in a marriage, not… whatever the fuck Satoru’s dumbass is doing.”

“I know you would. Well, ignore me, I seem to think I’m a matchmaker, and look at me. I’m here missing his old mistress.” Suguru’s lips part, then he glares.

“What now?”

“Catherine left because I was too nice, but I quite got along with her.” You say, and Suguru swipes his hand on his face.

“You should hate any woman who lays with your husband, and so blatantly.”

“I only hate him.” You say, and he sighs, nodding a bit.

“You’re too good of a woman, you know that? Like some pretty angel.” You shake your head, but he tilts your chin up then, brushing a thumb across your jaw line, and looks at you with those warm chocolate eyes.

“You’re too good of a man, Suguru.” He smirks a bit.

“First name, finally hmm? Scandalous.” You giggle again, as Satoru and Shoko come back in, and Satoru has a hilarious handprint on his pretty face. He glares over at the two of you, and Shoko smiles.

“What are you naming the dog, Duchess?” She asks teasingly, and you look at Satoru, then down at the pretty puppy, his tongue lolling out.

“I’ll name it Satoru.” Satoru gasps then.

“What!?” At the Duke’s angry yell, Shoko and Suguru fall into fits of laughter, as you all watch him lose it. “You’ll not name an ugly bunny after me, you damned bratty girl.”

“Why not, it does look at you. Look at this expression!” You pick the puppy up, and it tilts his head curiously, ears perking up as his tongue lolls, earning Shoko and Suguru bent over in laughter, nearly in tears, as Gojo steps up to you now, seething in his anger.

“You have no right to say anything like that to me, damned brat. Calling me a dog!”

“You do act like a dog. Not a well behaved one though. One I’d have to put outside for pissing on the floor and humping furniture.” You say then, and he’s furious now, as you scowl right up at him, and Shoko and Suguru are doubled over.

“You dare think you can insult me?” He demands, and now it grows more serious, you roll your eyes at him, snuggling your puppy then. “You?”

"It's just a name, Satoru. And quite frankly, he's a lot more charming than his namesake." His jaw sets now, as he looks down at you, where you’re holding the happy puppy.

“Insolent damn brat, as if you-”

“None of that, especially in front of me. Before I smack you for her.” Suguru says now, and Gojo rolls his eyes.

“Fine, you all bring her a stupid pup and insult me? Have you both not been my friends since childhood?” He asks them, and they glare simultaneously.

“As your friends we will be honest, it’s what we promised. This… it’s unacceptable. If you dislike this beauty so much, let her have an annulment, why hurt her so?” Shoko says, and you tense as Satoru laughs, darkly.

“Even my friends just adore you. You’re so perfect, aren’t you?” He demands, stepping even closer, filling your senses with his energy, and you step back now, needing space before you slap him yourself.

“I’m so tired of hearing that. Perfect. I am no such thing, clearly, as you tell me my flaws daily. Now, I think I’ll take this precious cutie on a walk.” You say, hugging Shoko then, and she hugs you back tightly, then hugging Suguru, pulling back to hold their hands. “Thank you both so much, I shall treasure this.”

“It’s nothing, Duchess.” Suguru kisses your hand again, and you smile softly, looking between them then.

“Will you be at the masquerade tomorrow? Together?” You tease, earning their blushes, as they look away.

“Dance with him? No way.” Shoko says, crossing her arms, and Suguru glares then.

“What’s wrong with dancing with me?”

“You’re Suguru!”

“And!?”

You’re snickering now. “Listen, just a thought. Suguru, will you save me a dance as well?”

“Of course I will, Duchess. Shoko… I’m a very good dancer, excuse me?” He then says to Shoko, and she rolls her eyes, waving at you as you head out with a satisfied smile, pulling the puppy along. Satoru stops you at the giant doors then, making you pause as you look up at him.

“I’m taking Satoru for a walk, Duke Gojo.” You say, earning an even harsher glare from him now, you hold in your laughter at it.

“Where will you be? I wonder. Under a man like a whore?” You laugh then, you can’t help it, earning him gripping your waist then, over your pretty blue bodice. It burns through your layers, you hate it so, your eyes narrow.

“Me, a whore? Go peer in that looking glass, Duke. I’ve watched you fuck three women in a couple weeks. I’m still a virgin.” He gulps then, eyes drinking you in, those long white lashes darting down your body, making you furious at the effect, fuck you wish your body would align with your mind.

His hand squeezes now, and you smack at it angrily. “And how long will you be a virgin I wonder?” He bites out, vitriol in every word.

“It’s none of your concern, dear husband. You just try to keep this mistress, they seem to run from you don’t they?” You whisper, tapping his lower lip now, and he snarls as you saunter out the door. “Farewell!”

Now here you are, in front of Nanami Kento’s apartments, along with your puppy, Satoru. You are nervous as you stand there, wondering just what you are thinking, would he even remember you? Was it some fun for him you wonder, and are you insane to be here!?

You’re a duchess, a married woman at that, clutching your thin blue cloak over your body, as your little dog named after your cruel husband is running around your ankles, wrapping the leash in a circle. You gasp then, as he’s firmly trapping you, just as Nanami Kento opens the door, and finds you tied up by your own dog, and he can’t help but laugh.

“Duchess… do you need my assistance?” He asks softly, and you drink him then, he has an apron on and flour dusted along his pants. You are flushed, so embarrassed as Satoru keeps running.

“Please, Mr. Nanami, could you assist?” You ask then, and he bends down, unclipping the leash from little Satoru and letting him inside, before he yanks you in as well, making you breathless.

“I told you, anything you require.” He says then, slowly unwrapping the leash from around you, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement as he unwraps you gently, until the leash is in his big hands. You notice bruises and scrapes on the back of them as he hands it to you. “All fixed now, Duchess.”

“Thank you Mr. Nanami. My hero.” You tease, then you inhale something sweet in the air, sighing. “Are you baking, Sir?”

“I am making cookies. Would you care to help? I could teach you.” He says, and you giggle then, putting the leash down and taking off your cloak, not missing the desire in his eyes as he looks at you.

“I actually am a skilled baker. I would love to help. What kind of cookie?” You ask, and watch his thin blond brows raise.

“You can bake? You’re… a noble, though…”

“My parents always let me bake, I quite love that, and cooking. Is it so surprising, Mr. Nanami?” You ask then, and he smiles softly, tired eyes getting hazy.

“You endlessly surprise me, my Lady. Come then, I have an extra apron, that dress is too beautiful to dirty.” He says softly, and you flush under his gentle praise, taking his hand and letting him lead you into his kitchen. “I did not know you were coming, I’m sorry my place must seem so small to you.”

“It’s lovely, Mr. Nanami.” Your voice is soft, as your eyes drink him in, his khaki trousers so covered in flour it’s quite adorable. You smile a bit at just how handsome he looks like this, as your dog is happily running around you both. “Please, know that I am not a typical noble. I quite enjoy your home.”

“Thank you… you’re absolutely not typical. I think that’s the furthest thing from how I would describe you.” He holds a white linen apron then, as he smiles down at you gently. “I’d describe you as… one of a kind.”

“Is that good or bad, Sir?” You ask, and Nanami chuckles a bit, as he ties the apron around you, and you tense as he’s behind you, his breath tickling your ear as he bends down.

“It’s a good thing. May I loosen this some, so you’re comfortable?” He asks, you nod then, shyly, and he’s so sweet as you turn and lift your hair. You feel his hands tremble just a bit as they trail down your back, between your shoulder blades. “You’re so tiny.”

“Am I to you? Maybe because you’re so big.” You tease, and he exhales then, one hand splaying the expanse of your back.

“No, you are Darling.” He says then, husky as he runs a finger down your spine gently, you shiver at how good it feels. “You don’t really need a corset you know.”

“I certainly do. I’ll plump up when eating your cookies.” You tease, but he hears it, the fear in your voice, and he grips you then, a hand on either side of your waist, as emotions hit, thinking of how much Satoru’s tiny words have affected your views.

“Do you fear eating truly? You’re in the wrong household, I’ll be shoving all sorts of sweets in your mouth.” He murmurs then, and you exhale, eyes shutting as you feel him, every bit of this man behind you.

“I do enjoy sweets.” You whisper, turning to him then, your corset loose on your back, revealing more of your breasts to his view, and you watch that Adam’s apple bob up and down as he gulps, his big hands sliding up your ribcage.

“Has he lied to you so much you think you can’t eat?” He whispers, hurt stark in his voice for you, and you sigh, looking down.

“It was a mere comment or two, he has taken them back. I think I just let them hurt me too much, let them get to me.” You murmur, frowning a bit at such a realization now.

“How wouldn’t that hurt? Well I assure you, your body is perfect. And you can eat what you wish around me.” He says so softly, making you blink back tears.

“Nanami…” You lean up to kiss him then, and fuck it feels so good, so natural to kiss this man here, and fuck isn’t he a man. He’s holding you with those sure hands, kissing you so gently in return, his firm lips brushing against yours, before his talented tongue consumes your mouth, making you gasp.

He moans then, picking you up with ease, pressing you along the taupe kitchen wall, and you’re left so breathless at the ease in which he handles you. You cling to him then, as your thighs wrap his hips, and you feel that heat even between your skirts, as he leans back and cups your face so delicately.

“I want you so badly I can’t focus. I thought you were just another dream last week.” He whispers, and you whimper, from the back of your throat, making him moan softly, kissing you again, over and over, as you grind tentatively, forcing a groan from him now. He holds your hips firmly. “Darling…”

“Yes, Mr. Nanami?” Your lips are covered again, his hands gripping your ass through layers of crinoline and petticoats.

“I’ll eat you instead of the cookies.” You giggle then, it feels so damn good to be in his embrace, so comfortable and perfect.

“Please, let’s bake, then we’ll… um, continue.” He exhales, letting you down gently, brushing you against his entire body, so hard and muscular, and you find your pussy just throbbing around nothing, dripping wet under your dress.

“I will surely try to focus, darling. You make it difficult.” You both laugh softly, and soon you are cooking together, side by side, shoulders brushing. He hands you flour, then sugar, and you’re mixing them carefully with a whisk. “You are the prettiest baker I’ve seen.”

“Am I, Sir? You do go on.” You are swirling the dough now, smiling up at him brightly, met with his little smirk, that lights up his handsome face.

“You have a little flour here.” He laps his tongue along the side of your lip, and you suck in a breath. He then leans back, hazel eyes so hazy, those blond lashes lowering. “Better.”

“Much better.” You agree, your pulse is racing, and he’s behind you now, wrapping his strong arms around your delicate waist. He helps you form the dough, kneading it with both of your hands touching, covered in flour, and it’s so intimate you can scarcely function.

The kitchen is so warm, filled with the sweet aroma of sugar and vanilla, and the rhythmic sounds of kneading dough and crackling firewood from Nanami’s living room. You’re in front of him now, swallowed by his huge frame, as Nanami’s breath whispers against your neck with his instruction, sending shivers down your spine as his hands guide yours.

“You’re doing so good, Darling.” He encourages, and those words from him continue to ignite a flame as hot as that fire now, to the point you feel sweat beading on your forehead. You wipe it with the back of your hand as he takes that hand, pressing his lips against it. “You smell more delectable than these cookies.”

“No, Sir I do not!” You giggle, and his gentle touch is both comforting and electrifying, and it’s all you can do to keep your wits about you as you shape the cookies together, his hands on yours.

“I bet you taste better.” He says, so husky, your hands pause as your heart thumps in your chest, looking back up at him, and he’s pressed against you now, you feel something so hard on your back now. You’re a blushing mess as you wonder at it, as you wonder about his body.

What does it look like? You can feel those muscles, you see how his shirts stretch across them…

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the polished copper pots hanging on the wall, your cheeks flushed with desire, your eyes dark with need, and you’ve never seen yourself like this. The warmth of Nanami is a stark contrast to the chilly reception you get from your actual husband, the Duke, and you can’t help but lean back into him, feeling his hardness press against your lower back firmer and harder, making him gasp then.

“Duchess… you’ll be the death of me.” He murmurs then, making you arch up more, one hand sliding up to cup the side of his face, pulling it down to you.

“Nanami Kento, I cannot quite focus on baking these cookies. You’re so distracting, you know.” He chuckles, vibrating against your body, as the cookies begin to take shape.

“Ah, forgive me Duchess. You’re rather distracting as well. So, may I ask how you know to bake, as someone so high up in status?” He asks, and you sigh a bit, eyes fluttering in pleasure as you feel his warmth enwrapping you.

“My parents always let me go into the kitchens. My Nan taught me so much, she was like my parent, honestly. I find cooking so calming.”

“Hmm, it’s very impressive.”

“Is it? It’s just a hobby, Sir.”

“Everything about you is impressive.” You become more and more aware of his arousal, and it’s clear he’s fighting to keep his thoughts from straying, to keep his touches polite, as your mind goes awry.

Nanami’s breath hitches every time your body brushes his, and when you finally turn to face him, as your cookies are placed in the oven, you see the desire in his eyes is mirrored in your own. You place your flour-covered hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the fabric. He looks at you, the intensity of his gaze making your knees wobble.

“Nanami, I-” you start, but he cuts you off with a gentle finger to your lips.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He whispers, the house silent now, aside from the snoring of your dog and that fireplace, and the whirling of the oven. “You’re so beautiful it makes me ache.”

“Thank you, I…” You yank off your apron then, watching his lips part as he watches your fingers go to your bodice. “Nanami, please.”

“Please what, my darling?” He helps you take off your bodice now, moaning as he looks at your body, as he then starts unzipping your skirts with sure fingers.

“Touch me. Please.” You’re begging, but you don’t care, you can think of nothing more you want than Mr. Nanami to touch you, to taste you, to feel you. He groans, helping you step out of your skirts, left in just your chemise. His breaths come out in heavy pants as his eyes study you.

“You’re so beautiful. Dear God. Do I deserve to see you?” He slides down your chemise then, leaving you bare, and for a moment you tense, but he holds your arms open, hands sliding down the sides of your breasts, making your nipples taut. “Please don’t hide, you’re so perfect.”

Perfect.

Are you? Is that a compliment?

You shove that back, gulping then, throat dry as he’s sliding sure hands down the nip of your waist now, before gripping your hips, his thumbs pressing into your pelvis, and you’re melting. His sure hands tremble just slightly, as he leans so close, bending down, his lips against your ear.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”

“You, handsome sir, are too nice to me.”

“It’s true. I would not lie. Fuck, and I’m the first to see you fully?” You hear it, the question and desire.

“Fully, yes. Um… I’m so nervous.” You admit, then squeal a bit as he picks you up in his arms, bridal style, the way Satoru Gojo should have held you the first night, but no.

“Duke Gojo…” You stand there at the threshold of your new home, Gojo Manor, and Satoru raises a brow, smirking sardonically.

“Expect me to carry you? Absolutely not. Don’t think I want the back pain, let alone you in my arms.” You’re trembling at that, tears filling your eyes. You look down then, feeling so unwanted, so insecure.

“I just thought this was a tradition.” You say, voice hoarse, and Satoru scoffs, walking in ahead of you.

“I’d rather not suffer having you in my arms.” He strides away then, leaving you at the doorway, devastated.

“Darling, you’re crying.” Nanami whispers, as you realize you’re now in his immaculate bedroom, it’s spotless, aside from some of his ties and spectacles along a white dresser. You cling to him, arms around his neck now, trying to bring your focus to him.

“I was having a bad memory. You’re fixing it.” You say then, and he kisses you, so passionately, until you’re on your back, his bed creaking slightly as he straddles you, completely naked as he’s fully dressed. Your hips buck up, back arching for more and more of his caresses. “Oh, Nanami…”

“Kento.” He corrects softly, hands slipping down your hips to grip your ass, spreading your cheeks and exposing more of your eager cunt, dripping. You’re whimpering as your eyes lock with his.

“Kento.” His name on your lips does him in, he’s slamming that mouth back down, kissing away every thought and fear you have, and your arms wrap around his neck now, pulling him down for more and more of his expert kisses.

“My darling, may I please taste you?” He asks huskily, kissing down your throat now, you cry out as his hand slides down your soft tummy, splaying it before a thumb brushes down the lips of your sex.

“Oh my god!” You scream out when he touches you somewhere, so sensitive it makes you feel overheated, it makes your body twitch in response. “What is that, Kento?”

“One of your spots, darling. And fuck… you’re so wet.” He whispers, making you cry out even more, trembling violently as he rubs little circles, kissing down your waist and peering up at you with his eyes, full of desire.

“Feels s’good.” You whine, making him grip you tighter with his free hand, as he continues to circle your clit, before sliding his finger down, inside you. You gasp at the sensation of feeling so full suddenly, dripping down his thick finger. “Oh my… it’s s’good, I-”

“You’re so tight. Mmm.” He huffs as he crooks his finger up, hitting some spot that makes you blinded then, seeing black and glittery stars. You’re feeling waves of pleasure wash over you, as your hands clutch Nanami’s soft blankets, the heels of your feet digging into his bed, as he kisses lower, lower. “You smell so good too, heavenly… fuck.”

“What are you… you’re… Kento!” You scream out then, hands enwrapping in his sandy blond hair as he kisses you where he just touched. “Huh? Wha-”

“I want to taste you, darling. Please… if you want.” He spreads your thighs with sure hands now, and you’re dripping out of your little hole, as the cool air of his room hits you, as he’s got those lips parted, devouring you with a gaze. “You’re so beautiful… your cunt…”

“My… cunt?” You whisper, and he sighs, tickling your cunt now, making you jump at it.

“Your cunt, your pussy… this.” He kisses it again, and you’re falling back into the bed, hips rising up for more, more. “You taste so good, darling.”

“Y-you wanna… um… taste me there?” You ask nervously, garnering his light laugh, as he spreads the plump lips of your sex, licking his full lower lip.

“I want to taste you everywhere, darling. But only if you want.” You exhale, struggling to compose yourself, as he’s laying between your thighs, looking so sexy now, looking at you with such desire you can’t take it. It overwhelms you, how beautiful you feel, versus how you feel at home.

With the man that scoffs at you, that downs you, but for one moment had said one nice thing… that your breasts were perfect. And you, so stupid, had avoided seeing Nanami all week, feeling so awful, as Satoru fucks his mistress in the room next to you. You were so stupid, so desperate for just one bit of affection you’d take even the crumbs.

Until today, when you knew you needed to see Nanami, to be in his arms, so strong and sure, to feel his presence, calming and intoxicating. Your hands cup his face now, garnering his kiss on your palm, his hands pressing on the backs of your thighs, spreading you and making you blush as his silky hair tickles your inner thigh.

“Please taste me, Nanami Kento. I want you to.”

“Oh my… Oh my god, darling.” He says huskily then, you know he was waiting for that, for your permission, and he’s swiping his tongue up your slit, and fuck it feels so good you scream out, embarrassingly loud, hips rising up for more, more.

“Ngh, oh my-ah!” You cry out, weakly, while Nanami is lapping your wetness up, as it drools from your eager cunt, then his tongue is inside you, and your walls are fluttering around it. His big hands grip your thighs roughly, squeezing them, pressing against the muscles there. You’re falling apart, as his nose bumps your clit, as he’s moaning and vibrating against you.

He’s licking higher, and your eyes are rolling back, as now the tip of his tongue begins to flick under your clit, over and over, quick gentle flicks that consume you. Your hands tangle in his hair, and you find yourself pulling it, shoving him against you, for more of it. His eyes, glinting green in the soft light coming from his blinds, stare up at you as he works you like an instrument.

Your pleasure starts building, until it feels like your body is on fire, and you scream out, with so much force, your voice gets hoarse and breaks in the middle. You feel yourself fading more and more, until it’s just him, the sexy noises as he practically drinks you, and he’s pulling back for just a moment, sliding his finger back in, pumping it in and out.

“Kento… I’m… something…” You can’t describe it, the pressure about to break now, and Nanami exhales, making you jump from the breath hitting you, as he watches you so carefully, your every expression.

“You’re so close, I feel you. Let go, darling, let go. I have you.” He whispers, and then he slurps away your sweetness, his tongue stroking upwards, and that’s when you topple over that edge.

You’re crying out, your toes curling as your body jolts with the force of your orgasm, overtaking your every sense. You see stars behind your eyes as it explodes, as you’re trembling from how hard you’re cumming, breasts heaving, your little hands pulling his hair, as your cunt is soaking Nanami Kento’s handsome face.

He’s moaning, drinking it up, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you cum, watching you shatter for him. “Yes, darling, that’s it. You’re doing so good.”

Fuck.

Nanami doesn’t stop, even as your hips are bucking and jolting, he continues to lick and suck, his hands squeezing your ass, your thighs, his tongue pushing into you, and you’re sobbing, feeling so full you can’t take it. You’re muttering nonsensically, pulling at him, as he pushes you again.

“Too much, Kento… ah-ah-ah!” You scream again, shaking now, as he slips two fingers inside of you, leaning up, and his lips are a breath away. “K-Kento…”

“You’re beautiful cumming, I knew it. I knew I’d love to watch this pretty face. All flushed for me.” His sultry words wreck you even further, and your hands slide up his shoulders, pulling at him. “Want to taste yourself, your sweetness?”

“Is that… proper…” He chuckles then, kissing you deeply, as his two fingers are pressing up on that spot, stretching your tight entrance out, and you can… hear it, your wetness, making you a blushing mess as you writhe under him. You taste it then, your arousal on his tongue.

“Nothing I’m doing is proper, darling. But… it feels good, doesn’t it?” You nod eagerly, kissing him again, hands trembling as they unbutton his shirt now.

“S’good, Kento… never felt… anything. Like… like… ah!” You scream again, and he’s leaned up, watching you so carefully, desire making his eyes lidded, his lips quirking up as he watches you.

“Hear it, love?” He says softly, and you nod, planting little kisses on his throat. “So wet for me.”

“I can, it’s embarrassing.” He laughs a bit, shaking his head, and you notice how his eyes crinkle in the corner, those dark circles merely enhancing them. You reach a hand up to cup his face now. “You laugh at me, S-Sir?”

“You’re precious. So precious.” He kisses you again, and now you have his shirt off, hands splaying his hard chest, feeling the hot skin, his heart thudding under your palm, then he curls his fingers and your head falls back, hips bucking off the bed. “Can you cum again, love?”

You nod weakly, and he starts sucking on your neck, as your head lolls to the side, tickling you so good, and you feel yourself pulsing around his thick digits now, cumming once more, falling apart under him. Nanami groans, angling his arm to shove them in deeper, making you so full, too full, until you’re desperately clinging to him, your legs shaking as a final orgasm hits.

This one is even more intense, so intense you’re weak, as he’s finally slipping his fingers out, and he is kissing you once more, his weight on you now. Your mind is whirling as you desperately unbutton him now, hand sliding down to touch him, but he stops it, shaking his head now. You pout, looking up at his grin.

“Nanami, let me… do things.” You don’t really know what you’re saying, but his little laugh makes you ache more.

“Do things? Hmm?”

“Indeed, I want to… touch you there.” He has your hand in his, kissing it softly, shaking his head again.

“Not yet, darling, today is about you and your pleasure.” He says, caressing your face, brushing the hair that’s fallen out of it’s coif back softly as he looks at you. “I want to do this for you.”

“I want you. Nanami, please. More.” You beg, arching up, and you feel it then, his hard length between your thighs, he pins you gently to the bed, halting your movements now. You pout again.

“We’ll do more next time. If you wish for another time?”

“If I wish, what do you think?” He laughs again, throwing his head back, and you glare now. “Acting so gentlemanly when you’re a tease, Sir.”

“Indeed, I am a bit, but it’s too fun to tease you, to watch you.” The timer goes off then, and he sighs, sitting up and running a feather light touch down your body once more, down every curve. “You’re so beautiful I can’t put words to it.”

“You really make me feel so pretty.” You whisper brokenly, as emotions hit, and now you are frantic, thinking of how you’ll have to leave. He frowns, leaning you up and brushing your tears away.

“Darling, don’t cry, please. I promise we will do more-”

“S’not that. It’s that… I don’t want to leave.” You say brokenly, and he exhales, bringing you to his chest, holding you gently.

“My lawyer is looking into it for you. Maybe we will find out something?”

“But Nanami, I’ll stop you from being happy, from finding someone, I can’t do that to you. This is selfish, I’m selfish, I’m-”

“Stop that. Stop that now.” He kisses you quiet, pulling you onto his lap, and you ache more and more, as you think of what awaits you, your ‘husband’ fucking women, being cruel, your loneliness. It starts to consume you. “Hey, hey… it’s okay love. You’re not preventing me from anything. I’m just enjoying you.”

“Don’t let me stop you, please?” He sighs then, shaking his head a bit as he strokes your back.

“Calm down, darling… please. I promise you’re not stopping anything, you’re just making my days better.” You sniffle a bit as you smile now. “Let’s get you dressed, you’re shivering. Was this too much?”

“No, I loved it. Promise.” Soon Nanami is dressing you, and you are calmed now, sitting on the settee by the fireplace, as you are nibbling on yummy cookies, and he’s pouring you a little glass of milk. “Oh thank you! These are so good!”

“Worked up an appetite hmm?” He smirks as you blush, nibbling your cookie and moaning at how good it tastes.

“You could say so.” He kisses you softly, and your heart thuds, as your little puppy wakes up now, running up to you both. Nanami picks him up, putting him in his lap then.

“So what’s his name?” You giggle then.

“Satoru.”

Leaving the bliss of Nanami Kento’s warm apartments for the cold, gigantic manor of the Gojo estate makes you shiver. You brace for impact, because you’re sure Satoru is fucking his mistress on something, does the man do anything but fuck you wonder at times. You see him in his study frequently, and he leaves often to go to meetings, but he sure does love to fuck.

Now that you’ve cum so hard your legs are weak, you guess you understand a bit more. Leaving Nanami had taken far too much effort, to feel like someone just wants you so much, like you’re not some burden? That and the man sure knew how to do… things.

You heat up just thinking of it, of how you’d tasted yourself.

You let your dog run now, and he runs right up to Satoru, who is sitting at the dining room table, alone. You pause then, looking around in the quiet dining room now, it’s a beautiful mix of golds and burgundies. Satoru looks as you walk in, his eyes raking down your body now, making you shiver a bit. You clear your throat, taking off your cloak and hanging it up.

“Where have you been?” He asks, and his voice is… different. It’s dark, and husky, and lacks some of the cruelty. You pause a bit.

“Where’s the new Mistress? Has she left already?” You ask, earning a mirthless laugh.

“She’s asleep. You didn’t answer my question. Have a seat.”

“Have a seat?”

“Are you deaf? Sit.” He pulls back a chair, and it grinds against the wood floor in a sound that hurts your ears, a screech, and he pats the seat with his hand.

“All right, if you wish…” You sit down next to him, and he snaps fingers, soon dinner is brought to you. “I’m not hungry, Duke.”

“You never are, are you? Ever since I said that.” He says, and you look to his eyes then, by the candlelight of the room, swirling a dark blue that’s intense to even look at. You sigh, picking up a fork then.

“It did make me watch what I eat in front of you, yes. I am not angry about it though. Just cautious I suppose.” You poke around at your plate, and he’s scowling at you now.

“I shouldn’t have, bloody hell, I already told you I was wrong. Must you torture me so?” He asks hoarsely, and you now look at him in shock.

“How does that torture you? I’m confused, Duke.”

“You’re perfect, and all I do is…” He trails off then, running a hand through his snowy white hair. “Will you just fucking eat!?”

You clear your throat, looking down at your plate now. “As you wish.”

“As I wish.” He scoffs, but you do nibble on the food, chewing it thoughtfully, watching him with growing confusion at his actions. “It’s all - as you wish - dear husband - your grace.”

“What else do you expect? I did truly eat a lot of cookies, so I got a little full though.” You giggle softly, and now he’s glaring right at you, his hazy blue eyes sharp as they bore into you, burning you with a look.

“Cookies, hmm?”

“I baked them in fact.” You sip your water now, sighing and feeling Satoru’s gaze dip to your neck.

“You so shamelessly let a man mark you?” He is leaned forward now, thumb on your throat, and you smack his hand, glaring at him.

“I see your mistress' necks. Hypocritical man.”

“You’re a bloody Duchess, you’re not a common whore.”

“Is that a compliment, Gojo?”

“No. No, it's a bloody warning. You’ll not embarrass me.”

You stand then, throwing down your fork, leaning forward on the table and glaring at him. “You embarrass me daily!”

He stands now as well, throwing down his napkin, leaning forward and looming over you, jaw clenched, blue eyes narrowed to slits. “Is baking cookies what you call fucking?”

You laugh at that, shoulders shaking then, earning his firm grip as he yanks you by your wrist now, and you struggle in his hold. “I did not fuck, yet.”

“Yet!?”

“Mmm… I found out what orgasms are. Oh, Duke, they're quite addictive, aren’t they?” You whisper, stepping closer as you watch his jaw clench so hard a vein pops out, his lips parting then.

“What now?” The Duke bites those words out.

“You don’t just get them from fucking, no… I was… hmm.” You take a bite of the food then, as he’s fuming, licking your lips. “Eaten. That’s the term I believe.”

Satoru sputters now, jaw dropped as his eyebrows lower, and you can’t wipe that satisfied grin off your damn face, even as he smacks at your hand, gripping that wrist now too. “You brag about it, like a little slut.”

“Why not, maybe you’ll like me more, maybe you’ll be a bit less cruel. Today I was told I’m beautiful, today I was treasured. And yes, cumming several times…” You step closer, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I see why you’re always fucking, Duke Gojo. It’s quite the high, cumming. I hear it tastes so good, my pussy.”

“Goddammit.” He yanks you to him then, shoving you on the table, spreading your legs and pulling you against him. You smack him then, right across the face, as your breasts heave with labored breaths, and he’s yanking at your hair.

“Shouldn’t you be happy, Duke? I am so occupied I’ll never come near you. I’ll never cry like that damn night, on the floor, my cheek stinging, my heart destroyed.” Your voice breaks then, and his pretty, cruel face softens for just a moment, as beautiful blue eyes drink you in.

“I bet I could make you cum harder.” He whispers, you laugh at that, earning his bruising grip on your hips.

“I doubt that, I daresay I made such a mess. Quite embarrassing, when I could hear how wet-”

Satoru Gojo slams his lips on yours then, and at first you’re so in shock you just sit there, slack jawed, but then his tongue slips between your lips, and his hands slide around to your back, bringing you against his hard body. As you gasp, his tongue goes further, and then you feel it…

You’re throbbing for him.

Fuck him. Fuck Satoru Gojo.

You bite his lip hard, only making him moan, you bite him so hard you draw blood, pushing on his chest. He’s licking that spot of blood, insane look in his damn psychotic eyes, and you see it. Desire, stark and heavy, as he exhales, gripping you so tightly you can’t breathe. You both just sit there, you both are just breathing, and glaring, and staring…

“Fuck you. I hate you, I hate you so much. You dare kiss me?” You demand then, swiping at your lips with the back of your hand. Satoru laughs, harshly, sliding a hand up your breast, gripping it and eliciting a whimper. You curse yourself for it.

“I hate you, little miss perfect. I hate being near you. I hate everything about you, how you walk, how you look…” He’s yanking your top down, thumb brushing your nipple, and you arch your back. He feels so goddamn good, his other hand slinking up your spine, to pull your hair so hard it pricks your eyes. His lips hover, his eyes lidded as he tells you that he hates you.

“Yes, how I look, so ugly to you. Right?” You yank his shirt then, an expensive shirt in your grip, balled into a damn fist.

“I never fucking said that. I never did. You know you’re not, you’re just a conceited little bitch who wants someone on their knees.” He speaks with vitriol, right against your mouth, and you taste him, and you wish he didn’t taste good, you wish he didn’t feel good.

You wish that kiss wasn’t the most intense thing you’ve felt. You wish there weren’t shocks everywhere, that there wasn’t desire in your gut.

You hate him.

“Having someone on their knees made me cum, so yes, I did fucking enjoy it, Duke Gojo. Having him drink me-” Satoru growls now, hand on your throat, wrapping, thumb on your pulse point, and he’s slamming his lips down again, and you hate yourself for what you do next.

You kiss him back, you’re devouring each other, moaning into each other's mouths, teeth clicking against each other, tongues messy and desperate. It’s not like anything you’ve ever felt,  as he’s ripping off your bodice, tearing it in half. You rip his shirt, as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his hips, and you pull back to gasp, staring at him, scowling.

“You’ll hurt your back, remember, don’t pick me up.” He slams you on the table, swiping everything on the ground, yanking you by your thighs.

“You don’t hurt my fucking back. You’re stupid. You’re fucking stupid. I wish I never even met you.” You’re sobbing now, and he doesn’t fucking care, does he, no he’s kissing you again, sliding his hands up your thighs, shoving your skirts up.

“I wish I never met you. Arrogant, cruel, stupid. Fucking hate you. Probably covered in your little whore’s cum.” He smacks you now, and you laugh right in his face, kissing him again, before crying out when he’s kissing down your neck, biting you brutally, leaving teeth marks, and your nipples grow taut, as you’re soaking wet.

“I’ll mark you myself, stupid little bitch.” He grunts out, biting you again, so hard you’re blinded by the pain, by the pleasure.

“Ah!” You’re grinding up for more friction, as he’s kissing down your breasts, sucking a nipple into his hot, eager mouth, making you lose every sense you’ve had, you’re consumed by your hatred, by this need. “Thought you never would kiss me, never touch me, don’t start now. Go lick your little Mistress’ cunt.”

“Cunt!? This is how you speak, like a damned common harlot. I don’t lick their cunts, you stupid girl.”

“You’re selfish, I bet you’re a terrible lover.”

“I only do that in a relationship, I have standards.” You scoff, then he’s on his knees, spreading you wide, and you’re shoving at him.

“Well then what the fuck are you doing down there!?”

“I’ll lick you so good you’ll not have a stupid thought in your stupid head about some other man.” Satoru’s big hands rip your pantalets now, and he hungrily stares at your cunt. “Fuck… you’re perfect there too. Fucking hate you. All of you.”

“Wh-what… you don’t lick them… then why me…” He’s huffing, his long fingers bruising now, as he looks up at you, his breath against your inner thigh, glaring at you with hatred.

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“You are! You won’t get me off at all. Bet you-”

“Ahem… Duke Gojo?” You both turn, breathless, and it’s Satoru’s Mistress. She’s looking at you both with wide eyes, and you feel yourself tear up again, as you realize what you were doing. How could you ever do this with him? He’s probably covered in her, he hates you. He…

“What the fuck are you doing here, can you not see I’m busy?” You blink in confusion, as Satoru scowls at her, and she wrings her hands.

“But you said you only wanted me!” She stomps and pouts then, and you close your legs, shaking and sitting up, your dress torn to pieces. He stops you, his eyes swirling pools of beautiful blue, almost making you forget how much you hate him then, how horrible he is.

How disgusting he is.

“Go on now, don’t disappoint her, Duke.” You whisper, and he grabs your face, squeezing it so tightly, squishing your cheeks.

“Insolent brat. We’re not finished with this conversation.” He hisses through his teeth, and you smack his hand again.

“Go on, you have fucking to do.”

“And you have cumming to do.”

“Not by you!”

“Yes, by me! Damn-”

“Duke Goko…”

“What!?” You both yell at her now, and she looks between you both, running off then, and you shove at Satoru, clinging your clothes to your exposed chest, glaring as he stomps toward you.

“You don’t want me. Remember?” You whisper, and he glares, pulling your hair again, shoving off your tattered dress. “You owe me a new one. Don’t touch me anymore! I don’t want your hands on me. Your mouth on me. I don’t!” You scream, crying again, swiping at your stupid tears.

“I just… I just…”

“I don’t want you. I don’t.” You smack him again, and he yanks you back against him, sliding his fingers up your cunt, and you moan, loud and wanton as he fingers you, and you’re shuddering, as he moans, watching your jaw go slack in pleasure, watching your eyes roll back.

“Don’t want me, Duchess? Fucking soaked.” His hushed words kill you, you’re dripping everywhere, sticky between your thighs, as Satoru consumes you.

“I don’t.” Your voice is so weak, pathetic, as your hips buck up, as he slides so damn deep in your eager cunt. You hate her reaction to him. “Go now, go f-fuck her. I hear you every night and it disgusts me, you disgust me.”

“And you disgust me. Opening your legs for a stranger like a stupid slut. Fuck…” He’s scissoring his fingers inside you now, rough and brutal, and fuck if you don’t want more of it.

You hate him. You hate him. You hate him.

“Good! Good, I’m glad I do. Ah, fuck!” You’re close to cumming then and there, so fucking embarrassing, you yank away, and your mouth drops when he shoves his fingers in his mouth, groaning and shutting his eyes. “Did you just taste me!?

“Yes I did. Jesus christ.” He gets on his knees then, and you gasp, as he buries his face against you.

“Wh-what, what the-”

“I’ll make an exception to taste that.” He moans out, looking up at you, and it takes everything to back away.

“Go practice on her. The only one you want.” You shove at him then, and he is just staring, so heartbreakingly beautiful. “You are cruel. You are evil.”

“I know.” Is all he says, blinking back emotions of his own with snowy white lashes. “Please… let me. Please… stop seeing him.”

“No, you wanted this. You wanted nothing of me. Now you’ll have it.” You turn then, running off and panting, up to your room, slamming the door, sliding down it and struggling to breathe.

You’re awful, how can you want him of all people? How, when you just had Nanami Kento, so sweet and loving, how could you want someone who smacks you, who slams you on tables. How could you ever want him? He doesn’t want you, he just wants to prove he’s so much better. It’s all a game to him, he cares nothing, a kiss changes nothing.

Nothing.

You will never kiss him again, you can’t, not when you…

You’re fully in your night shift soon, sighing as you look at the tattered remnants of your dress, and your throat is so tight you realize you must have coffee. You shakily walk out, passing by his door, and of course it’s cracked open, why wouldn’t it be, he’s so shameless. You see his Mistress clinging to him, and he’s naked, his body chiseled to perfection, bored look on his face.

The kiss meant nothing to him. It should mean even less than nothing to you, shouldn’t it.

“You were going to lick her… would you try that on me, Duke?” She asks then, and you roll your eyes, as you quietly watch, beyond your better judgment. He scoffs then, shoving her to her knees.

“Stop bringing her up. No, I will not, and it’s not your business.”

“It’s because she’s so beautiful…”

“Shut up. Now, you’ll service me, won’t you?” He caresses her cheek, and she nods eagerly, opening her mouth for him then. You tremble as you walk away, then you hear it, him whispering your name.

Did he see you!?

“Duke, why are you calling me that!… You want her!” She then coughs, and Satoru moans loudly, as your heart races, back pressed against the cold walls of the hallway.

“Shut your mouth now.” You palm your racing heart, that can’t be… it can’t be… not after…

You can’t breathe.

You tear yourself away, cursing yourself, cursing your existence, and every step gets heavier, it keeps getting harder and harder to breathe. You hate him, fuck you hate him. As he’s shoving his cock in someone’s mouth, and you’re wet from watching. You hate yourself. You hate your life. How could you, how could you?

Breathe.

As if it’s so simple.

You can not breathe here, it’s slowly sucking you away, and now it’s a million times worse, now you must shove these horrid feelings back, forget the way that stupid, cruel Duke makes you feel. The way his eyes looked when he begged you to stop seeing Nanami. But you won’t give in, you won’t fall for it, for whatever game he plays, you’ll play right back.

But one thing is certain, him whispering your name did wicked things, things you can’t even understand. Why did he? Why!?

Why can’t he let you have any happiness?

Breathe. How, when Satoru Gojo was suffocating you?

A/N: WELL THEN. It's just gonna get angstier and messier from here. Don't worry, reader isn't gonna stop seeing Mr. Nanami, and we're far from Gojo/reader having any sort of relationship. Stupid Duke. Also yes, deformed bunny, I HAD to

Part Five

[intramoon]

♔ heavy is the head, you don't even wanna know what it's like being me ...

[lipglossanon]

♔ 𝔉𝔦𝔳𝔢 ♔

• A Dozen Roses • Fairy Tale AU •

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, dead dove, incest, father/daughter incest, possessiveness, kissing, groping, thigh riding

Dawn does not break. A summer storm overtakes the early morning sky and overshadows the sun with pounding rain that comes down in sheets as lightning forks in the distance. Your chamber maids dress you warmly for even inside a chill is persisting along the stone corridors. 

Your father is nowhere to be found. Off with his fellow knights on a hunt, waylaid by the weather. That’s what the stable hand tells you as he points out the empty stall where your father’s steed usually rests. You frown out across the wide terrace as the maids usher you back inside. 

The day passes slowly, your ladies trying to distract you with music and sewing. One even whispers to you about the most recent gossip floating amongst the gentry. That your father has already chosen you a suitor— someone he was to announce after his hunt. 

“Is this so?” You murmur quietly, eyes seeking the window and yet only seeing the storm. 

She nods, threading her needle, “Yes, Princess. But tis only a rumor, just another tale to spread for those with too little responsibility.”

You smile at her, “I suppose that’s true enough.”

The talk turns to other things, letting you fall back into your thoughts. The book containing your mother’s story lies tucked against your side. Your grand plan of speaking to the King this morn dissipates like mist in the light. The day drags along and after supper, you visit her portrait hoping to glean more insight into this ghost. 

Refreshing her wilted lilies, as you have countless times before, makes your heart race with longing. Magic is all well and good but it seems to only have a place for you in the shadows of your heritage. Gifting her a single red rose, you place the thorny stem in the middle of the lilies and take your leave. Your ladies-in-waiting walk with you back to your chambers, bowing and bidding you a goodnight as you part from them at the door.

Once you’re completely alone, you light a candle and read over the words and secrets left behind in the diary until they swim across the page. You hear loud movement coming from beyond the door, leading you to creep across the cold floor to press an ear to the wood. The deep voice of your father can be heard but you are unable to parse what is being spoken. 

When you’re sure the hall is empty once more, you climb back into bed, hand reaching for the book you set aside. Eyes gaze unseeing upon the leather cover. The King has known everything all of this time and yet kept his distance. It hurts you. Makes you seek him out now regardless of the late hour, book in hand as you enter his rooms uninvited. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He’s seated in front of the fire, dressed down for the night in a simple tunic and breeches. His hair and clothing are soaked from the storm still raging outside. You suddenly realize you’re in your nightgown and how improper it was to walk through the castle in such undress as well as to be standing in the King’s antechamber. 

“Tell you what?” He tilts his head, eyes dark and heavy as they drag down your immodest shift—fists clenching where they lay against his thigh, “tell my precious little princess she holds magic in her blood?”

“Yes,” your voice turns pleading, “why hide from me what is my right?”

He shakes his head, “Twould do no good,” standing, he walks over to you, water dripping from his hair to the straight line of his nose, “would you have had me toss you off to that forest witch to be raised?”

Chills race down your back as he brushes stray hairs away from your face, “You are my daughter, my property... my responsibility.”

“You never cared before,” words burst from your lips like overripe fruit. “You paid me no mind until this summer, Father.”

“Because you look like her,” he growls, eyes flashing in the low light, “you could be her.”

He grasps your upper arm and walks you over in front of the looking glass; his free hand reaches up to cup your chin roughly, forcing you to gaze at the mirror image. You clench your eyes shut and he chuckles, a low mean sound, against your back. 

“Look, my naive daughter,” his calloused hands pinch into the skin of your jaw and you meet his eyes in the reflection, “you have given me a most precious gift— a second chance with my dear beloved.”

A gasp spills from your lips as the King lets go of your arm to cup your mound through your thin nightgown. 

“Have you been good while I’ve been away, Princess?” He murmurs against your ear, fingers rubbing slowly against the heat gathering at the apex of your thighs. 

“Yes, Father,” your brows pinch together, body leaning into his touch. 

“Good girl,” his thumb rubs across your bottom lip. 

That hot shivery feeling you sometimes get overtakes you, eyes darting to the King’s mouth. A yearning cavern opens in your chest, a hollow echo of loneliness making your lips part. It’s the same feeling that you had when he took it upon himself to confirm your purity, his mouth hot and wet upon your cunt. 

“You should check, Father,” the damning words whispered as if that would soften the indecent request. 

He presses his thumb past your lips, pushing against your tongue as you suckle the digit. 

“I should,” he rumbles, gaze hot on your mouth as he turns your head to the side, “just to be sure your chastity is in place.”

A chaste kiss is dropped to your mouth, fleeting like the brush of a butterfly's wings. Whining, you tilt your head further, bodily asking for more. He presses another kiss against your lips, so different from Lord Winters. Your father claims your mouth for his own. He makes you sigh and gasp against his lips as he tastes you deeply, tongue stroking alongside your own. 

Your legs nearly give out and he wraps his broad arms around you, holding you to his firm chest as he kisses you heatedly. Head fuzzy, you sink against him, letting the King kiss you senseless. Pulling away, he shushes your whining before tugging you to the armchair in front of the fireplace. 

Once he is seated, he pulls you into his lap, indecently straddling one of his legs as your gown shifts leaving your bare cunt to rest on his trouser clad thigh. He pets your sides, a strange little smile hovering over his lips.  

“I never thought I would have this again,” he murmurs, “come, kiss me again, my sweet daughter.”

You’re much too eager and uncouth, but he takes it in stride; slowing you down, guiding your lips and tongue until you’re moving in sync with him. It’s addicting, like eating sun warm strawberries from the garden. Forbidden but so so sweet. The juice sticky and syrup thick, filling your mouth with decadence. 

His sword calloused hands grip your hips, guiding you into a rocking motion that makes you bleat and moan against his lips. A rare warm chuckle from him makes your mind buzz. You follow his motions until he’s able to squeeze and pet your hips as you rock against his thigh. The sharp bolts of pleasure make you leak until his trousers are soaked, sticking to the soft lips of your cunt. 

“Want me to teach you?” He whispers hotly in your ear, “teach you all the ways to feel good, my precious princess.”

“Please, Father,” you mewl quietly, kissing him needily.  

“I’ll show you,” he promises, voice dark as his eyes, hands grasping your gown to delve underneath, fingers skimming across your bare hips, “teach you like I did her—such gorgeous witches I’ve owned.”

Thoughts too hazy to pay attention, you sigh and gasp when his hands drift under your nightgown to grasp your breasts, squeezing the soft fat with a groan. The King’s mouth drifts along your neck, lips soft as he kisses the sensitive skin. Chills race down your body, your mind a haze of wanton need. He kisses your breasts through the nightgown as he pinches your nipples. 

Whimpering at him, you tangle your fingers in his still damp hair. Your body is hurtling to that peak that whites out your thoughts, pleasure curling up like a sated cat in your stomach. The rough fabric of his trousers rub against your soft, wet heat as you rut back and forth on his thigh, making you moan softly. 

“My sweet witch,” he pulls away to gaze up at you in satisfaction, “my beloved made whole again.”

Bringing your face closer, he kisses you far sweeter than before. This surprising show of tender affection brings you to your climax. Your voice stutters out, a broken cry lost in his wet kisses. The fire in the hearth roars to life like dragon’s breath as glasses on the mantle shatter only to land as glittering diamonds on the floor. 

Your father chuckles warmly and it sends a frisson of heat pulsing at the apex of your thighs. 

“Such a gift, my precious princess,” he brushes his thumb across your swollen bottom lip.  

The expulsion of magic makes you tired. The King keeps you on his thigh, the rough material of his breeches bringing you to climax again and again as he kisses the moans from your mouth. Never pushing it further, he makes a promise to show you everything with each time you clench on nothing and cum on his lap. 

It’s cock crow when you finally pull away from your father’s embrace. Lips and cunt swollen from his rough touch and yet your body and heart ache for more. 

“I shall escort you to your room,” he helps you stand on trembling legs, wrapping one of his heavy riding cloaks around your body—his smoky scent surrounding you. “I’ll make sure you have the morning to yourself for resting.”

You hum, exhausted in more ways than one, and easily follow the King back to your room. As he tucks you into bed, you pout and grasp his shirt, seeking another kiss before you fall into slumber. 

“Sleep well, beloved,” he murmurs, kissing your temple before pulling away. 

Although you wouldn’t realize until too late, it’s the end of your old life. 

[heron0320]

♔ heavy is the head

[nateezfics]

ADORNED

♔ PAIRING — yeosang x reader

♔ GENRE — smut, sugar daddy au, ceo au, ceo!yeosang, sugar daddy!yeosang, aged up!yeosang, fem!reader, dom!yeosang, sub!reader

♔ WARNINGS — smut, unprotected sex, oral (m), masturbation (slight), choking (slight), use of pet names (sweetheart), sexual language//dirty talk

♔ WORD COUNT — 1.6k

♔ SUMMARY — “such a beautiful, expensive little necklace i’ve bought for you. perhaps there is something you could do to pay me back, to thank me for being so doting.”

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart.” Yeosang’s voice was like velvet, deep and smooth. He spoke slowly, and walked in an equally languid pace towards where you stood in the center of his bedroom. You remained still, just as he had instructed, and watched as the gap between you became smaller. His eyes remained on your neck, right where an elaborate necklace hung. The emeralds and diamonds were glittering brilliantly under the dim lights. The necklace was a beautifully crafted piece, unlike any other you had seen. And he had purchased it. Just for you.

And even with his complimentary words and adoring gaze, you couldn’t forget that his gifts always came with a catch; a favor to be returned.

You could see the desire in his eyes as he closed the distance between you. He had been a picture of the loving, doting partner. All soft smiles and adoring words while you tried on every piece of jewelry that caught your eye. Now, back home within the walls of his penthouse, he was a vision of desire. His eyes were dark, and drank in the sight of you hungrily.

A gasp escaped your lips when his fingers brushed against the necklace, knuckles grazing the skin of your collarbone. One of Yeosang’s well manicured brows rose as he studied the necklace, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Such a beautiful, expensive little necklace I’ve bought for you. Perhaps there is something you could do to pay me back, to thank me for being so doting.”

There it was, the catch. Yeosang was always blunt about wanting something in return from you. And you were always ready to offer him your gratitude for all the wonderful gifts. Like the necklace that adorned your neck. You smiled. “What would you like me to do?”

Yeosang’s hand returned to his side. “Get on your knees.” You did as you were told, lowering yourself until your knees were flush against the cold hardwood. You looked up at him expectantly. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, and he smirked when your lips parted in a sigh. “Good, now use that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You didn’t hesitate to grope him over his slacks, pressing your palm against his half hardened cock. He groaned appreciatively, and you used that as fuel to continue, stroking him until you felt him become fully solid under your touch. You freed him from the confines of his pants with practiced ease, and wasted little time in taking him straight into your mouth. The sound of his deep voice as he groaned again shot warmth right to your core.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped, fingers threading into your hair.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked, moaning at the taste of him. His size made him a challenge to take, but his hand in your hair guided you, pushing your face into him until his cock fully disappeared into your wet throat.

Yeosang watched you from above just as you looked up to meet his gaze, your eyes shiny and dark. You looked like pure sin like this, on your knees with your mouth full of his cock. He could’ve spent every last dollar on you if it meant he could have you just like this forever. No money in the world could replace the feeling of your lips around him.

His groans and curses spurred you on, and fed the ever growing desire between your thighs. The jewels were heavy around your neck and dangled with every bob of your head. You always felt so confident when he lavished you with these expensive gifts; you never could’ve afforded this life without Yeosang, and you’d always be willing to show him your appreciation. But the reality was that even outside of his wealth, Yeosang was beyond attractive. His beauty alone made you want to be on your knees for him, his money was just an extra incentive.

You were set on sucking him dry, but he pulled you off his cock before you were able to accomplish that. Yeosang snickered when you pouted up at him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I am not done with you.” He helped you return to your feet and lead you towards his king bed. “Now strip, but leave your new necklace on.”

You slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders, pushing them down until your dress fell the rest of the way, landing in a pool around your ankles. You stepped out of your dress, and now you were left in your underwear. And the necklace. Yeosang watched your every move intently, eyes growing darker with every bit of newly exposed skin. You were completely bare under his gaze, and a sight to behold as the jewels continued to sparkle against your skin.

Yeosang looked as if he could have devoured you in an instant; and that was exactly what he was about to do. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.” His voice was strained. You could tell it was taking everything in him to keep composure.

The plush duvet met your back as you laid like he told you to. “Just like this?”

Yeosang swallowed. “Spread your legs for me,” he demanded, and when you didn’t open them wide enough for his liking, he urged you again. “Spread then wider, sweetheart.”

You separated your thighs as far as they could go, fully putting yourself on display for the man before you. Your pussy was wet, and glistened under the bedroom’s dim lights, mimicking the shimmering jewels you currently wore. When you noticed the way he drank you in, you giggled. “Like what you see?”

Yeosang swallowed again, stepping closer to the bed. His lips twisted into a smirk as he enjoyed the way your sex weeped in front of him. “Very much so. Now, touch yourself, sweetheart.”

You desperately wanted him to touch you, but you reached one of your hands down to your sex anyway. You pressed your fingers into your clit, moaning at the touch. You toyed with yourself like this for a few more moments, just until you couldn’t handle the way you felt so incredibly empty. Two of your fingers dipped between your folds and you met his gaze right at that moment. The sensation of your fingers inside you and the sight of Yeosang in front of you had your head spinning already. But your fingers only satiated you so much; Yeosang’s cock was still out and hard, and you yearned for him to fill you to the brim.

“Fuck, look at you right now. So beautiful yet so fucking dirty. All bare for me and touching yourself with those expensive emeralds around your neck.” Yeosang felt his cock twitch at the sight. It begged for attention, and he was a mere second away from crawling over you and stuffing you full with it. He just wanted to watch you for a bit longer.

“Are you going to fuck me, or are you just going to watch?” You huffed, growing frustrated with need.

Yeosang smirked. “Of course, sweetheart. I was just simply admiring.” To your relief, he began to rid himself of the rest of his clothing. He crawled over your body until he was face to face with you. You pulled him in, lips meeting his in a messy kiss. He chuckled against you, amused by your eagerness. Though, he couldn’t deny he was just as eager to bury himself in your wet pussy.

You both groaned at the first push of his cock into your heat. Yeosang allowed you time to adjust, stilling once he was fully seated inside. “Oh my god. I need you to move. Please.”

Yeosang’s lips grazed your ear. “Like this?” He snapped his hips into yours, earning an immediate cry from you.

“Y-Yes!”

Yeosang fucked into you, growing faster and deeper with every thrust and every cry out of your mouth. You were taking him so well, so good. He adored the way you looked beneath him, skin flushed and body jolting with every rut of his hips. The necklace moved to and fro with every bounce of your breasts, and Yeosang was convinced you’d never looked more beautiful. “Taking me so good, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You’re being good for me, all because I spoiled you rotten today.”

Your eyes fluttered open when you felt his hand clasp around your throat just above where the necklace rested.

“Letting me slut you out for a mere necklace.” Yeosang used his free hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to thrust into you deeper. His cock brushed against your sweet spot, and all you could do was cry out, eyes rolling backwards from the pleasure.

“I’m so close…”

Yeosang pressed two of his fingers into your clit. “Come on, sweetheart. Be good and cum for me.”

He barely finished his sentence before you came. Pleasure surged throughout your body, his name tumbling out of your lips as you rode out your high. Through the haze you could make out a few of the praises he whispered in your ear to guide you through your release until you finally started to come down.

Yeosang wasn’t far behind, falling apart and pushing into you with one last thrust, his hot release spilling into you. The hand that was wrapped around your throat relaxed, and soon began to fondle with your necklace.

“Now, sweetheart, let’s take this off you and get you cleaned up, shall we?”

AUTHOR’S NOTES — ughhh it took me so long to get this up. i meant to have this whole spoiled event series completely finished ages ago, but tbh i couldn’t ever be satisfied with what i was creating,, so i kept trashing every draft and redoing them :(( from yeosang all the way to jongho…i’ve redone everything. and i’ve been majorly pushing off avoiding this series,, but here’s hoping i can get the rest up soon. i’m really not feeling too confident in this,, so if you enjoyed this i would love it if you showed some support :’) comments and reblogs appreciated!

TAG LIST — @lilie-dctl @mjyungi @marievllr-abg @nebulousbookshelf @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @thesafecafe

(tag list has been redone; if you’d like to be on the list, find the link to my tag list form on the pinned post on my page)

NETWORK — @kflixnet

ALL FICS ARE THE ORIGINAL IDEAS AND WRITTEN WORKS OF NATEEZFICS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. REPOSTING WITHOUT CONSENT FROM THE AUTHOR NATEEZFICS IS PROHIBITED!

[kinq-sleazee]

MDNI 18+ | Smut , Toxicity

♔♕♚♛

Izuku is mean. He is not sweet and smol like people thinks. He ignores you for weeks then suddenly pops up fresh off hero work with dirt & grime still on his suit.

Doesn’t say much just brushes past you towards the couch, crossing his legs with his muddy boots on the coffee table.

“come suck your dick, baby girl”.

No point in even complaining because you know he’s going to get his way. He treats you like shit and you still do whatever he says.

Scrolls on his phone and takes calls while you suck his dick. Rests a heavy hand on your head and pushes you down until the curly hairs tickle your nose. Please don’t fuck around and make a sound because now he’s got to punish.

“what are you trying to do, mess up my image ? want people to know m’fucking around with a slutty bitch like you”.

All said through bared teeth, glaring down at you on the floor with one knee on the couch while he fucks your throat. Pulls out to spit in your mouth then he’s shoving his cock back inside.

When he cums the edge has been taken off, so he’s a little nicer. Will make you cum on his tongue and fingers while murmuring praises before splitting you on his cock and pumping you full of his cum.

After care is minimal. He doesn’t really have time but he’ll throw you a towel and pour you a glass of water.

Promises he’ll call later that night but never does. Your “missing you” texts go ignored for another couple of weeks before he finally needs to blow off steam again. ☹️

Part 2

[grimbanes]

Apple with Cinnamon. (3rd person pov).

Summary: Kaz Brekker x Healer!GN! reader - Y/N, amidst the chaos of a heist gone wrong, stumbles upon an injured Kaz Brekker, bleeding out rapidly in a dingy alleyway and choking on his words. They waste no time doing everything they can to keep him alive; neither knew why they did because kindness was a luxury nobody could afford in Ketterdam.

WC: 3k

TW: kaz's boundaries being pushed, mentions of his touch aversion, lots of blood and violence, somewhat heavy descriptions of wounds, panic attacks, usual six of crows warnings. sorry kazzy.

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting after thinking about how Y/N is always getting injured in heists. why not have it be reversed? kaz is stubborn. it's not proof read, we die like muzzen. im tempted to make another part but both can be read as stand alone pieces but this one can be read as strangers to friends or love interest, up to the reader.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┑

Desperation wasn’t in Y/N’s vocabulary. It was not something that crossed their mind. Desperation meant admitting to weakness and weakness cost you in the Barrel. Desperation meant needing someone and that was the last thing you wanted even if you were just roaming the streets of Ketterdam; ironically enough, desperation was the only word to describe the situation the Dregs seemed to have found themselves in. Just how was Y/N going to save Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker from bleeding out all over the floor, possible concussion or worse, physical touch. They really didn’t want to lose their fingers for crowding his space.

Just how had they found themselves in an alleyway with the cruellest crime boss to crawl out of the harbour at this hour? Y/N could only stare at the man’s slouched figure against the wall, his infamous crow-headed cane laid across the floor beside his leg that caused his uneven walk. Blood dripped down the side of his face, his lips pulled into a grim downwards turn, that much they could see as they approached the hunched figure - his discomfort didn’t go unnoticed as he grit his teeth, barely conscious, hand pressed to a wound on his side and breathing desperately erratic. His fancy garb stained a delicate hue of rose and it was most definitely a shame. 

“Excuse me,” Y/N’s voice called out softly, almost wishing to blow away with the cool evening breeze when more explosions thundered through the damp streets hailed by shrieking and gunfire echoing down abandoned lanes in the darkness of the evening. “Do you need help?”

The Bastard of the Barrel’s eyes barely flitted over to them, a wince strewn along the tired creases of his shadowed face, sparing a begrudging glance and not long after, there was a revolver pointed directly at Y/N’s chest. They still approached, even as the leader of the Dregs pulled down the hammer on his gun and barely mumbled something to them. It sounded almost like a ‘don’t touch me’. But they could see the way his hand trembled, pale fingers peeking through crimson streams and it was reminiscent of a DeKeppal oil.

“Please, I can help you, Mister Brekker,” They tried again, stepping closer until they stood over him. Y/N lowered their wicker basket, shopping long forgotten with the sudden emergency. They really did not know why they were showing the man kindness… they just had to. Nobody deserved to have that expression tearing them apart at the seams. 

Truthfully, they did not like to use their power. It was too risky, too exposed, especially in Ketterdam. Y/N didn’t want to spend the rest of their life fighting for an army that meant little to them. They didn’t see the reward in healing hostages or fixing generals that treated them poorly or assisting sick royals who ate too much and drank their weight in fine wines. Better to stay hidden - that was until Kaz Brekker had collapsed in the alleyway only a few street turns from their home, stumbling mere steps from an explosion that had knocked him off of already unsteady feet. 

“Go,” He mumbled, sweat beading up his brow and arm dropping, clearly not perceiving Y/N as a threat. For some reason, his gaze glanced to the exit behind them, but they didn’t mind that. Instead they got to their knees and rolled up the sleeves of their work shirt, tucking it around the elbow.

“You’re losing blood, Brekker. I’m not military trained but I’ll do my best,” They sincerely promised and connected their hands, closing their eyes and tapping into that Small Science that caused them grief daily, dulled their skin with lack of use and made them unable to stomach food on many days, even when they walked past food carts selling all manners of treats.

“I don’t want your science, I have business-” Brekker hissed, fingers trembling against the wound in his side and he gasped quietly, schooling his gaze as he panted in laboured breath after wheezing breath, stony eyes staring through sweat-covered strands of ebony. “To finish.”

Y/N didn’t listen as they concentrated as best they could given their surroundings. They tried to ignore the yelling of commands, the subtle gunfire, the many men and women skittering around for a place to hide. Luckily none dared such down that little alley that they had both tucked into. They pulled at skin, searching the bleeding man’s body and frowning as they realised they needed to be closer. They shuffled into his space, dropping one knee to the ground beside the man’s hand, careful not to kneel on his cane and carefully hovered their hands over the wound he was clutching with one hand, the other limp at his side now that he had dropped his gun. 

They searched the wound, pulling the flesh at its very edges and willing it to pull closed, only to flinch upon the discovery of shrapnel lodged in his side and slowly edging deeper, daring to almost knick his lung and wedge itself there. Y/N would not let that happen - certainly not now, it would look as if they had intentionally killed Kaz Brekker and that was a bounty they certainly did not want over their head. 

“Brekker, listen to me, Brekker,” They pleaded, wanting to turn his head to face him when his head lolled to the side, eyelids fluttering and his breathing shallow, the shadows beneath his eyes deepening with every passing second that you didn’t do something. “I need you awake, stay with me. Talk to me about anything. Tell me about your favourite book, your favourite song. What’s your favourite kind of food?” 

Y/N’s voice seemed to do the trick, the unsteady, glossy gaze of the most notorious gang boss watching their hands as they moved to unbutton his waistcoat, trembling fingers pulling it open and his breathing only fastened, his chest heaving, eyes flickering from the hands to their face, jaw tensing and tongue seemingly heavy in his mouth.

“The Pale Library. Kruge being dropped on my desk. Apple pie,” Kaz began to list, a rasping voice that was heavy, grating and flinching away as sweat began to drip and mix with the river of cardinal staining his alabaster skin. 

The Barrel boss’ taste in book had Y/N smiling to themself as they unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it aside and coming face to face with the deep, large gash along the man’s abdomen, just slightly to the side and lucky just beneath a lung. Hopefully it stayed that way, despite his hunched posture most definitely pushing the metal closer and closer. They didn’t know if they had the skill to save him if it punctured his lung. He’d either drown in his own blood or bleed out. Either way, they were determined to help him. 

“So you like fairy tales? Is that apple with cinnamon?” They asked as they cringed for a moment, trying to keep him distracted as they dug their finger and thumb into the open wound that continued to seep and pour all over them, red staining every bit of their skin. They were not sure if it would even wash off. If this night would ever wash off. They continued to feel inside the wound, trying to feel for the metal shard, using their ability as best as they could but they could not soothe like a heartrender could. 

Kaz trembled beneath them, deadly silent and shaking, shivering so much that he might as well have fallen into the harbour and caught a chill. He gasped, hands limp at his side and head dropping back down, unable to keep himself afloat. Y/N pulled the shrapnel messily from the wound and dropped it between them, immediately setting to work on sealing the worst of it. It would take time. It might take too long. No. It was fine. He was healing faster than they anticipated. 

Y/N dared to steal a glance away from the closing wound to check up on the man’s face only to realise he had passed out, cheeks deathly pale and reminiscent of a ghost. 

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They couldn’t believe that they had just dragged Dirtyhands through the Barrel, arms distressed where they had been hooked beneath his shoulders, his legs and heels dragging across the slick cobble in the dead of night as the fight began to cease, Stadwatch barking orders and hunting down anyone they could find in the streets. They were both lucky that they’d been able to drag him out of that alley just before it had been stormed. Y/N kept Brekker’s revolver clutched in their hand as they dragged him, cane tucked awkwardly in their wicker basket that was dangling awkwardly from their elbow. If he knew of it, he was sure he’d have their head for putting such a stain on his reputation.

He’d remained unconscious even as the healer dragged his still body three blocks, dozens of turns, only stirring when they had begged him to tell Y/N where to go. The mumbling of ‘the Slat’ was all they got before his eyelids twitched and his head dropped forward again, hair in his stupid face and arms as limp and useless as the rest of him. 

“Stupid Bastard of the Barrel. I don’t even know you, I don’t even like you. You’re a criminal, a thief, a murderer, a con artist. You’re one cruel son of a bitch and I still couldn’t just mind my damn business,” Y/N mumbled more to themselves than to the unfortunate man in their clutches, they were sure it wasn’t going to do his leg any good, now that they knew it was broken bone beneath the scarred flesh. So he wasn’t born this way, they had thought silently. 

It felt like hours when in reality it was only maybe 25 minutes before Y/N was dragging Kaz Brekker up the little steps of the Slat, back to the door and shoving it open with all their might. They could feel the sting in their shoulder blade as they stumbled backwards, landing on their tailbone and still clutching onto the unconscious man they were trying so damn hard to save for no apparent reason. All the frustration seemed to be finally catching up, tears unwillingly streaming down their face, soaked in someone else’s blood and so utterly stressed as they sniffled and hooked their hands back under Brekker’s form, dragging him completely into the building. Y/N’s body gave up, leaving them both sat at the floor, one sat up and clutching the Bastard of the Barrel unceremoniously to their chest, no strength left to keep moving his dead weight.

“Brekker, you’ve gotta wake up. I can’t do this on my own, they might kill me. I don’t know what to do.”

“What in the Saints?” 

Y/N turned their head to the side, meeting eyes with a tall Zemeni man, hands on his revolvers and tweed jacket covered in dust, soot, debris of many kinds. He had cuts all over his beautiful face but seemed otherwise unscathed. Nothing life threatening. It didn’t take him long to rush forward, linking one of Brekker’s arms over his shoulder lifting the weight off of Y/N; they went with the moment anyway, staggering to their feet and helping drag the man to a table and throwing him onto it, back against the cold wood. Once he was placed, albeit unceremoniously, they stumbled into a seat, elbows propped on the table and head in their palms. 

Saints, Y/N was exhausted. 

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“Why are you staring at me, Jesper?” Kaz heard his own voice spit, hoarse and dry. It was the first words he’d spoken in who knew how long, his usual scowl hanging on his tired features the moment he opened his eyes. He scanned the room around him, a low frown on his bitten lips and brows taut with tension that easily mirrored the waves wracking through every fiber of his body. 

“Oh, thank the Saints,” Jesper sighed from beside him, hands clutched in a prayer as he looked to the ceiling and then back down, hands resting on his revolvers and grand smile on his wonky mouth. 

“Saints don’t stick their fingers into open wounds,” Kaz shot back, pushing himself up with one arm and pressing a hand to his head, the blistering headache unaided by the dim light. He vaguely registered that he was in the Slat, the events of all that transpired clawing at every crevice of his mind. He couldn’t be thankful about that. He didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to drown again. He didn’t want to think of it. All the same, he was breathing. He was alive. Kaz Brekker had made it through the night.

His eyes then fell upon a hunched over figure, head laid upon crossed arms that were gripped by bloodstained fingers, the entire surface of skin a rich shade of red that seeped into their clothes, sat in messy hair and splattered across gentle cheeks. The healer. His brows furrowed tighter, hand dropping to absentmindedly massage his aching leg and he stared. And stared. And stared. That was his blood.

“Been here all night, boss. Wouldn’t leave your side until you were stable and stitched. Cost ‘em a good deal of energy though, passed out as soon as you were sorted and hasn’t moved since. Still breathing though, poor little love,” Jesper recited, giving them a nudge with his hand but Kaz shook his head, unfamiliar feelings stirring inside his chest. Just let them rest, Jes.

“What happened?” He mumbled, fingers twitching and gloved. He briefly remembered warm fingers unbuttoning his shirt, smoothing his skin, a voice whispering kindly to him, then searing pain. He didn’t want to think of the rest, didn’t want to feel the water in his lungs and cold hands holding his head just beneath the surface of frozen waters. 

Jesper shifted, arms folding and hands tucking beneath his armpits, lips pursing and he awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot, sheepishly shifting his gaze from his feet, to Kaz, then back to his feet, then back to Kaz.

“Razorgulls, maybe. Then Stadwatch, then whoever else. It’s still a mess, honestly. Everyone else is doing as good as can be, I suppose; Inej was here but went back out with Nina to do something. I don’t know. Wylan’s asleep. Someone planted explosives and somebody else accidentally… shot them,” He sheepishly pointed to himself with his thumbs, but the shame was evident. 

“What about them?” Kaz nodded to the stranger still sleeping on his table, inches from where he sat on the table, legs outstretched.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Works in one of the printing shops, didn’t find anything about them being grisha though, so must have kept that hidden well or their boss is the only one who knows. The rest is a mystery other than the piss poor amount of kruge they get for the work they do.”

“That’s it?” Kaz’s tone sounded harsh, short, even to his own ears.

“That’s it.”

Kindness was not a thing that existed in the Barrel. In Ketterdam. In Kerch. In him. Kaz had a hard time truly trying to decipher this stranger’s motives. They had recognized him, calling him by name numerous times. There had never been any real malice, no fear either. Concern for his well-being, but not their own life. It was foolish. They could have gotten themselves killed all for what? To save the Dirtyhands and hope to reap the reward they must expect to come from it? He had half the mind to put a bullet in their head and dump them in the harbor before they even had a chance to see the benefits of all of their hard work. Kindness did not exist in Ketterdam and Kaz Brekker was a daily reminder of that fact.

But as the stranger known as Y/N Y/L/N stirred from their restless slumber, their eyes opening and meeting Kaz’s, he was reminded of the gentleness of their tone of voice, talking to him about books, about pie. Keeping him grounded even as he sank down and down and down and couldn’t breathe, feeling those hands shove him down faster and faster and the tide rushing over head, his brother staring up at him with lifeless eyes and the soft, slimy and cold feeling beneath his fingertips - warmth.

Kaz’s eyes snapped to the hand lightly hovering over his broken leg, just enough to stitch the gashes around his feet and ankles, only now noticing the shredded ends of his tailored trousers. The healer was at work again, a small yet tired smile on their face, tiredness present in fine lines across their face, beneath their eyes and soon they were staring back at him, cheeks flushed and hair a desperate mess, soaked with Brekker’s blood.

“You look better, much better. I’m so glad, Mister Brekker,” Y/N laughed breathlessly, and Kaz didn’t know how they were able to. He didn’t understand it and all he could do was sit there, noting that this stranger didn’t offer to fix the break in his bone, just the damage that must have been caused in the explosion and when they had apparently dragged him all the way back to the Slat.

“With cinnamon.” That was all he could muster his blank mind to say.

The pair exchanged a glance, one that lingered, one that had both of their lips pulling upwards slightly and tips of ears maybe turning a shade of pink.

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[destinedgray]

Today we're extra bisexual. (He was going to wear very boring every day clothes but Evy looked at him weird.)

[venusjeon]

morning after

a l'aquelarre drabble

the morning after, you wake up convinced he regrets it.

♔ PAIRING: witch!jungkook x human!reader

♔ GENRE: magic au, angst, humour, FLUFF

♔ WORD COUNT: 0.8k

♔ WARNINGS: mentions of sex, swearing, a bit of anxiety, making out

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: i don't know why this has taken so long given how short and simple it is, but here's a ball of fluff for you (also known as a jungkook!)

The radiance of the sun squeezing through the blinds woke you up the next morning.

It was a softer welcome into the day than jolting awake to turn off an ear-piercing fucking alarm, but nonetheless annoying, so you turned your back on the source of light to be met with that of Jungkook’s naked one.

Last night hadn’t been a dream, huh?

You smiled against the pillow at each memory. Dancing closely at the party, holding hands on your way back, kissing under the exploding bracket lights,  gasping against each other’s skin as you came… It had been perfect, and so was waking up next to him. Usually, you’d hurry to get dressed and out of the place of whatever guy you’d hooked up with to avoid the typical morning after awkwardness, but this time around there was none at all. No, you felt cosy enough to stay. You didn’t need to wonder why, the answer had been there for weeks. Because I love him.

But, in silence apart from the light breathing of both, seconds passed. And more seconds. And more, and more. And suddenly you feared he regretted it. Not the sex, which was undeniably bomb, but the fact that he’d had it with you. A girl who just happened upon his shop. It was a miracle he hadn’t realised yet there was nothing really to you, but what if he’d needed to fuck in order to work it out? You knew Jungkook wasn’t the type who’d ditch a girl after getting in her pants, but you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t know that instead of love, all the feelings that had been brewing inside him since you met translated into a lust that could be solved with a night of passion.

You began to contemplate leaving. It would make things easier if he indeed had no feelings for you; spare him the trouble of having to kick you out and make it clear that he didn’t want to date you... For the first time, you’d leave a guy’s place brokenhearted.

By Jungkook’s yawn and stretching at the other side of the bed, turns out your plan was thwarted.

Should you pretend to be asleep? You considered it in the short time it took him to turn over, but decided against delaying the blow and to get it over with as soon as possible. No need to prolong the apprehension.

Then, as his eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was yours, a soft smile stretched his lips still sore from your lovely abuse of them the night before, and it became ever so clear that of course this boy was in love with you. How could you doubt it? Idiot.

“Hi,” he whispered with a raspy voice you wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“Good morning.”

Jungkook’s hand shyly sought yours and held it between your bodies, caressing it gently as though it were precious and delicate—hysterical, given the force with which he’d non-stop thrust into you hours ago, but you kept that to yourself. With the passing of minutes in a comfortable silence, your eyelids became heavy, as Yoongi’s did when petted. If humans could purr, rest assured you would. Once your eyes completely shut, Jungkook took the chance to get you off guard and leaned in to kiss your cheek, making you smile.

“Sneaking up on me, you witch?”

He chuckled, “You do bite.”

Before he could get away, you buried your fingers in his silky locks and lightly pushed the back of his head close, guiding his lips to yours to bite them not too hard, but enough to rile Jungkook up, tempt him to kiss you back.

And there was the heat again. You felt it both inside, igniting each nerve in your core, and outside, as his hot breath mingled with your own. While you wondered whether it was the nearest you’d ever get to feeling magic, he was sure the addiction that had once corrupted him fell embarrassingly short of it.

Anyone would think you’d bewitched him but Jungkook didn’t care, wasn’t ashamed, gave in willingly to the effect you had on him. He wanted you to come to his shop every day and to kiss you deep as he now was. Instinctively, your legs spread and wrapped tightly around his bare torso, and Jungkook took the hint to climb on top.

Just as he was doing it, though, the door opened with a creak. A meow followed.

Jungkook broke the kiss to sigh.

“I can’t believe him,” he muttered, getting off you and failing to kick Yoongi off the bed the second he jumped on it. “Get out.” The familiar responded with a hiss. “No, you fuck off!”

“Come on, let’s play with him a little,” you struggled to say between giggles. “He’s so cute!”

“He’s a perverted cat, is what he is.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate to get up—a great sight, given he was naked—and drag Yoongi out to the living room, despite his attempt to cling to the sheets by the claws. Closing the door behind him, Jungkook rushed back to the bed and on top of you. “Besides,” he whispered in a low voice that gave you goosebumps, “I want to play with you alone.”

[mrprettywhenhecries]

♔ : Finding the other wearing their clothes for wingator? 🥺

Looks Better on You

✗ w.c. 511 ✗ warnings. none, just tooth rotting fluff, gator/oc

Gator let out a heavy sigh as he approached the front door, wearily dragging his feet and fumbling with his keys til he found the right one.  Shouldering the door open, he dropped the keys onto the small table just inside before kicking off his boots, shrugging off his jacket, and heading further inside to find his fiancé, keen to fall into bed with her after a long day of work.

“Win?  You still awake?” he called, knocking softly at the half shut bedroom room as he poked his head inside the room.  The television was still playing quietly, coating the room in a soft blue glow.

Atop the bed, curled around a pillow, Win slept, legs bare, her stockinged feet half tangled in the blanket she had kicked off earlier, but it was the oversized camouflage hoodie she was snuggled in that made Gator pause, his lips twitching at the sight.

“Wondered where that went,” he murmured, reaching out to push Win’s bangs from her face.  At his touch she stirred, groaning softly as she stretched and blinked blearily up at him.

“You’re home!” she cheered softly, rubbing Gator’s sleeve over her face as she stifled a yawn.  “Finally,” she added with a small pout and he snorted, unbuckling his cargo pants and dropping them as he rounded the bed and flopped down next to her.

“Something came up right as I was about to leave, had to deal with it first,” he grumbled, rolling towards her and resting his chin on her stomach as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” Win murmured, stroking his cheek, her thumb brushing over his moles lovingly.  “I missed you.”

“That why you stole my hoodie?” he grunted, raising a brow as he peered up at her.

“…Maybe,” she admitted reluctantly.  “I got cold and it smelled like you,” she murmured, making Gator’s grin widen.

“You were cold, but you didn’t put any pants on?” he teased, catching Win’s halfhearted swat at his shoulder.  

“You know I hate pants,” she huffed, fighting back a grin of her own and Gator rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, I’m not complaining, just for the record,” he pointed out, bringing her knuckles to his lips.  

“Do you want it back?” Win asked, plucking at the soft camouflage fabric with her other hand, but Gator wrinkled his nose, shaking his head against her.

“Nah, look’s better on you anyway.”

Win let her eyes flutter shut, exhaustion once more pulling at her.  “M’surprised, thought you’d a said I look better without it on,” she teased and Gator dropped his head to her chest, resting his cheek against her as he let his own eyes slip closed.

“S’true, but so is the other thing,” he murmured groggily.  “Like it when you wear my shit,” he added, trailing off, his breaths deepening and turning even.

When he stilled, snoring softly, Win cracked an eye to glance down at him, watching him doze for a moment before allowing sleep to reclaim her as well, completely content.

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Duchess Reader

♔ Content/Warnings: Light angst, cunnilingus, fingering, blow jobs, cum swallowing, spitting/spit kink, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling, low key breed kink, toxic attraction, lots of emotions, lots of sex. OOC.

♔ Word count: this chap: 12k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you - Don't read this if you want a nice Gojo lol.

Comments and Reblogs appreciated <3

Part Nine - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Ten

“Riding bareback, you are slutty.” Satoru teases as you ride the white horse next to him, you both chose to ride horses today rather than the carriage. You stick your tongue out, earning his laugh.

“Oh, you’re just mad I’m better at riding than you.”

“You certainly look sexy riding it. Wonder how you’d ride me?” You gasp now, and he chuckles, clicking his boots gently and nudging his black horse on, you nudge yours as well, by rubbing her neck, whispering to her.

“Let’s kick his ass, darling Snow.” She neighs softly, as you squeeze your thighs around her, and giggle as she sets off, passing Satoru in moments.

“Hey now! Brats.” Your hair is flying in a wave behind you, the wind blowing through your face, and in these moments it’s difficult to remember Satoru was terrible before, that you’re not likely going to be together for long.

How easy it is to forget.

That morning he’d had coffee ready for you, and surprised you with a brand new saddle for your pretty horse. You had melted at that gesture, sure he was terrible before, sure you remembered it, but you appreciated what he was doing now. Satoru had helped you set it all up, and before that you all had brought baskets together for the village, medicines and herbs to help.

He was heavily involved in it all, he was not skimping on his duties, and now as you both trot along, and he looks at you so intensely, his blue eyes shining in the sunlight, you’re enamored against your own judgment. You’ve never felt this, could it be from last night? Could it be physical? Or was it… 

More.

He had not touched you today aside from helping you up your horse, yet even that moment had you a flustered mess, as if you were courting as a young girl, those little moments with Suguru long ago, and even with Satoru originally. You remember he was a little distant but you felt giddy as he would promenade with you, getting so thrilled from his flowers he’d bring.

You frequently wonder even more now how things could have been if he had not chosen this path, this heartbreaking path that has irrevocably changed you, you are not and never will be the same. Satoru had changed everything you once knew, those lofty dreams you had were crushed when you had your wedding night, only for you to feel so much last night it shattered anything.

You think upon sweet Nanami, how you’ve left him heartbroken and had not truly meant to, you would have been content with Nanami, you just felt it was wrong to lead him to believe your feelings were at that level. His face now in your head breaks your heart, you wish you had not hurt him so.

Physically just kissing Satoru eclipsed anything you’d done with Nanami at all, even when those kisses were brutal and toxic, when he’d smacked and choked you, it did things to you none of Nanami’s careful, skilled touch could. That made you feel even worse, Nanami had not trusted you for good reason, but how could you tell your… husband… no when your entire being craved it?

Nanami was better off without you.

He’d have been better off without you ever talking to him, ever sharing your pain with him, and he wanted to save you so badly from yourself, and you bitterly know you’re just a disappointment to him. It was as if you disappointed everyone at times, except…

“Deep in thought, Princess?” Satoru asks, making you sigh, looking over at him, your hands gently holding the reins under your silk gloves.

“Indeed.”

“Thinking of your baker?”

“I destroyed him, Satoru.” You whisper, and he frowns then, nudging his horse a little closer, to fall into step with you, a hand reaching to touch your thigh, burning you with his touch.

“Destroyed him?” He asks, softly, instead of getting angry you’re thinking of Nanami. It surprises you,  so different from how Nanami reacted, it was as if Satoru knew that it hurt you and did not mind listening, like he just accepts that it did happen.

It oddly brings you more comfort knowing you can speak of such things, though you do not want to hurt Satoru either. Did not want to hurt anyone anymore.

“He begged me to stay, and I fully turned him down. He must hate me now, I would not blame him.”

He clears his throat, hands gripping just a little tighter now, heating you up from the touch. “Why did you turn him down?”

You look at him, your hand touching his, biting your lower lip as your horses trot slowly next to each other. “My feelings were no match for his, how could I let him believe they were? It would be wrong. But I know he loved me.”

“Did he really know you, though…”

“What, are you saying if he did, he wouldn’t?”

“No, bratty girl. I just wonder, does he know how mean you are? How ridiculously snarky?”

“Fuck off, Satoru.” You laugh though, and he smirks.

“He dodged a bullet with you- ow!” You smack the fuck out of him, and he feigns pain now, laughing softly. “No, let me be serious, of course he fell in love quickly, especially… making love to you, you’re so beautiful, you’re smart, those sounds you make? How you feel… yes, I believe anyone would.”

His words bring vivid memories of last night to your mind, of him inside of you, so deep, you couldn’t figure out where he ended and you began. Fuck.

“We should not speak of these things.” You say, looking away nervously, at the rolling green hill, the village coming into view.

“Why not?”

“Because we were unfaithful-”

“In a marriage we were forced into. And I regret it, surely, all of it, but I do not think you should judge yourself so harshly.”

You look at him carefully. “You’re being kind.”

“Is it so odd?”

“It’ll take getting used to. I suppose I just feel terrible for coming into his life, and for him loving me when I could not return it.”

“Do you know what love is, little Princess?” You look at him seriously then, shaking your head. “Then how do you know you did not?”

You brush your fingers down the back of his hand now. “He explained this feeling, where he could not bear to be without me, and I’m afraid I did not share that. That he had fallen so deeply, but for me it was a comfort, a joy, something pleasurable. Perhaps like your…”

“They’re not even that. They were just physical, their personalities honestly annoyed me. They’re simple I guess.”

“You chose that. Intimidated by smart girls?”

“Terrified of you.” You meet his smile, finally easing your hand off his, sighing. “Why do that? I love holding your hand.”

“We are too comfortable. Too happy. We should not be so.”

His expression hardens, he sits up more on top of his horse, back straightening. “So continue in the misery?”

“No! But… it hurts more, knowing this is how it could have always been. A beautiful relationship.” Your eyes meet, and he sways his head, but you carry on, leaving him to watch you. “Bet I’ll beat you!”

“Nah, I’ll win.” He rushes to you now, and fuck if you don’t enjoy him, laughing as he starts beating you in the race, and you feel an odd lightness you have never felt, even before him.

What is this feeling?

“They’re bootiful, Duchess!” Your sweet girl from yesterday cooes to you, her mother had returned your tiara even though you tried to let her keep it, so you have decided to make all the girls that have gathered crowns of twigs and flowers. Little crowns of white and purple flowers are sitting atop their heads, all but the last little girl you’re finishing up.

Satoru is dealing with business matters, while you have delivered the medicines and the herbs, agreeing to meet back up. He’s riding his horse and yours is right next to him in step, he’s holding the reins, and fuck if Satoru Gojo does not look sexy riding a horse. Especially in his dark blue riding gear and this top hat covering his snowy hair, that still peeks through.

You may or may not be eyeing his entire tall, lithe body when he hops down with ease, his toned legs starkly apparent in the light tan riding breeches he’s wearing, it’s clear he’s quite an equestrian. He smiles over at you, what a mess you must look like, knees in the field, your hair is loose around your shoulders, skirt covered in dirt, you certainly are not very ladylike right now.

“And what have we here, so many princesses!” He says then, as the little girls run up to him.

“Duchess made them!” They all shout nearly at once, and you laugh softly, feeling your bare hands so sore now, the sticks are snapping and smacking at you in places, but they turned out so good! And the kids smiling makes you so happy you cannot take it.

“She’s so skilled, look at this craftsmanship!” He says enthusiastically, with a wink shot your way. “Say, would you all like to pet her horse?”

“Yes please!” They all start petting Snow, Satoru’s horse wants nothing to do with them, arrogantly having his head in the air. You can’t stop the smile decorating your face, nor the warmth in your heart at the scene.

“Arrogant like his owner.” You tease as he comes closer, you’re down to the last tiara to be made finally.

“Are you talking shit, bratty girl?” You duck your head as he walks toward you, sighing now. “Aren’t you a vision?”

“I’m a mess!”

“No, you’re… a corny poet could put it correctly. I’m afraid beautiful is all I can come up with.” He leans down, studying you carefully. “In your element.”

You tilt your head, as he brushes your messy hair back gently. “Well thank you, but are you saying my element is dirt?”

“It certainly is.”

“Hey now… ugh, ow!” You look to your hands now, kneeling on the soft bed of grass, realizing you have another splinter from the twigs. Satoru looks at you, brows together, coming to kneel down in his fancy suit, surprising you when he takes your hand carefully.

“No more twigs, you’ll ruin these pretty hands.” You snort then, blowing a tuft of hair that’s fallen in front of your face.

“Can hands even be pretty?”

“Yours are. Despite the stubby fingers.”

“Hey!” He chuckles then, handing the little girl her tiara now, placing it on her head carefully with a bow. Your breath catches then, as you see this silly, goofy side of Duke Gojo, was this who he was before?

“Thank ye, yer Grace!” The girl says, running off now, and Satoru helps you up to stand, looking at your hand carefully.

“It’ll be fine until we get home, Duke. Ah!” He gently runs a fingertip along your palm.

“You have three splinters, tch. You’re not ‘fine’.”

“Oh don’t baby me, I’m a big girl.” You stick out your tongue, earning a glare from his pretty blue eyes.

“Yer Grace, please come inside, I have tweezers and antiseptic.” One of the ladies says now, looking at the Duke nervously. “It would be right cramped for a Duke and Duchess, I’m afraid…”

“Nonsense, we appreciate it.” Satoru says, his pouty pink lips turned up at the corners. You hate how your heart falters, at how sweet his smile is, his eyes crinkling at the corners just so, enrapturing you.

“Come on then, ye two, ah to have royalty in my humble home!” You follow Satoru inside the home then, a little cabin with a thatched roof, she sits you on the bed then, a little straw bed, you sit down and peek around, you notice how quaint and cute the home is.

“Oh it’s so lovely.” You say, and she blushes, shaking her head.

“Indeed not, yer Grace. Would you like me to assist?” She asks Satoru, and he shakes his head.

“No, I had enough scrapes as a boy with my friends to know how to remove splinters.” You’re surprised, you had pegged Duke Gojo for someone who really did not know how to do things like that, perhaps you have a lot you’re curious to know, before this month is up.

Why does the month ending hurt to think of?

“I’ll give ye both some privacy.” She walks out, leaving you both alone in the cozy little home.

Satoru carefully puts your hand in his lap now, gently wiping it with a washcloth that’s nice and warm. You study his face as he studies your hand carefully, his thin white brows drawn together, lips pursed just a bit, snowy lashes lowered so that you could not see the pretty blue of his eyes. He peeks at you for a moment, making you blush at getting caught staring.

“Am I so pretty to look at?” He asks with a raised brow, plucking a splinter out now, you hiss a bit.

“You are pretty and cruel, so merciless with your tweezing!” You say with a glare, earning another chuckle from him.

“Two more. Keep distracted, think of something nice. Like… hmm, cumming all over my mouth last night?”

You gasp. “Ah!” He yanks another, smirking now, and you scoff, but your body overheats, at how he’s gently gripping your wrist, sliding a thumb up along the thin veins of your inner wrist now. “Why would I think of that?”

“You tell me, you have goosebumps on your breasts, your hips are shifting, a blush decorating your cheeks. Are you thinking of it?” He whispers, leaning close, and your eyes dart to his lips, then back to his eyes.

“You would be the most slutty doctor.” He laughs then, genuinely, and it’s so bright you laugh as well.

“I probably would be, wouldn’t I?”

“You’d travel the world and sleep with every woman- oof!” He yanks the last splinter out, still laughing a bit, his broad shoulders shaking with it.

“You are so funny, I…” He blinks a bit then, clearing his throat. “I guess I did not know someone could make me laugh so much, aside from Suguru.”

“He is also quite funny, isn’t he?”

“You really kissed him, huh?” You flush again, sighing. “You do not have to explain it if you don’t want to.”

“Truly?” He nods, now leading you to the little sink, where he washes your hand carefully, just bits of blood from pulling them out.

“I deserve anything you’ve done and worse.” You hear it, his hatred of himself, and it breaks your heart into pieces.

“I will explain. It was that night when you had brought Catherine to dinner. I had a panic attack, after the um… tightening the corset comments.” You whisper, looking down now where he holds your hand, feeling emotions catch in your throat.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. You looked perfect that night.” His voice is hoarse as he dries your hand carefully inside the little cabin, and when you look up you see he is sincere, see the hurt on his face.

“Yes I… it hurt me, it triggered things that I’ve tried to fight from my own mother, and my grandmother before her. To barely eat, to the point of feeling faint, to keep my corset so tight I can’t breathe, all to be a ‘delicate lady’.” Your memories are bitter in your throat.

“That is cruel. You’re already a petite girl. Even so, to push yourself that far… it’s not okay, especially if you wish for children.”

“I know. Well you did shove those scones in my face, so we are all good now.” He smiles sadly, shaking his head.

“So Suguru kissed you after that night?”

“He followed me out, I was a disaster, I do not think he meant it other than some sort of… comfort. It’s hard to explain. To make me feel desired, attractive, when I felt so very…” You blink then, sucking in a breath to prevent your tears. Satoru is gently rubbing ointment on your hands now, staring at your palm carefully.

“I made you feel…”

“Ugly. Hideous.”

He shuts his eyes, two lines between his brows forming. “It was never so. It was I who was being hideous.” He brings your hand to his lips now, kissing each spot gently, wrecking your resolve, enhancing every feeling as you both open up more to each other. “You should not forgive that.”

“I know. But you feel remorse-”

“I remember you dropping that spoon, the clatter it made along with your pretty face, fallen. I felt so horrible, I tried to apologize, but I was still a piece of shit, and it was so half assed.”

“It was. But it’s behind us.”

He laughs without humor. “You are being too forgiving. I honestly understand why he would kiss you, he liked you long before me, and he also wished to make you feel… wanted, that is what you wished for as well.”

You nod a bit. “Yes. He did not go further, he also brought the puppy to cheer me up.”

“Suguru would be good for you. Perhaps you’d have been happy if you were arranged to marry him.” Your lips part then, stepping just a little closer, you hear the children playing outside, here the animals in the distance, chickens clucking, the whirl of the stove, but you also hear your heart race in your ears as you look at him.

“Sure, we would have been, but…”

“What if you could marry him, what if I could try to make it happen?” You exhale, shutting your eyes now, before stepping even closer, so close you inhale his scent into your nostrils, intoxicating you. His hand still holds yours carefully.

“You would do that?” He nods carefully, gulping now, pressing another kiss to your palm.

“I know he would be a good match, he’s of good standing, he would adore you, give you babies. Be a good father, be kind. If anyone had to have you, I would prefer him. I’m sorry your baker… I just cannot see that being good enough financially. You are still of high standing you know, and the scandal will nearly ruin you as is, Suguru could mitigate it, make it some ‘love match’.”

“You’ve thought this through?” He nods then, and you sigh. “You are becoming pretty caring, Satoru.”

“Me caring? Psh.” You smile softly now.

“That is caring, and selfless.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m still selfish, all I can think of is ways to make you want to stay, or ways to make up for the rest of my days if you’d let me. So do not think I’m going out without a fight.”

“I see that. Well, you have some points today, look at you, a whole medical professional.” He snorts, rolling his pretty eyes, and you take a breath, yanking him down by his tie, making him exhale against your lips. “Let me reward you, kind sir, for your care of me.”

“Fuck.” Is all he manages, his free hand yanking you by the waist, slamming his lips on yours, and you kiss him back eagerly, those violent moths in your tummy flitting into delicate butterflies. It’s a different kiss, it’s softer, sweeter, not a prelude to something sexual, it’s sweet and genuine. “How do you always taste so good?”

“I do not know, with my bitter coffee habit.” He laughs softly, cupping your face in his big hands. “It touches me that you look out for me, even if we will not be together. It means you… are trying. I see it.”

“Is it all too late?” He asks softly, and you take a breath to tell him no, it’s not too late, you may be a whole fucking fool but you feel so much with him, not just physical, but how do you open up fully, after everything?

“Satoru-” The door opens back up, and you two step back just one step each, his hand holding yours again as the lady walks back in, smiling at you both.

“So deeply in love, aren’t you both? What a dream!” She says, her hand on her chest, and you shyly look down, as Satoru stares at you.

“Falling deeper every day.” He murmurs, your eyes catch him, and you can’t take it, how easily it flows with him, how much you want to fall right in his arms. You try to compose yourself, curious if it could be true, or if he’s being sweet for the lady. But is it… true?

“Indeed, we are.” You answer softly, earning his little smile, a smile that comes to mean more by the moment.

“Are you sure you’re ready to tell me?” You ask carefully, in his study later that night, Satoru nods, clearly uncomfortable now, when he pulls out a locket, a thick rose gold one that hangs on a looped chain.

“I owe it to you, to explain this. Her name… was Adelia.” He manages to say, and you tilt your head curiously as you watch the pain on his handsome face.

“Was? Is she…”

“Not dead, though I would prefer that. I’m horrible, I know.”

“Satoru…”

“She’s banished, when I became Duke I sent her far, far away. But she’s alive and kicking, I’m sure, out in France somewhere. I gave her plenty of money for the rest of her life.” He says with a harsh laugh, then he looks at you carefully, taking your hand and looking at it. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at all, I had a good doctor.” He smiles sadly, then places the locket in your hand, and you open it, gasping.

You look at Satoru then, vulnerable and exhausted, then look back at his locket, at this woman who truly looks exactly like you, to the point it is eerie. It’s almost as if it is you, she surely is some relation or perhaps a long lost sister, the only difference is she’s older than you, and her eyes are different, just a bit. They’re the same color, but there's something cold in them.

“She looks like a twin sister.” You murmur softly, sitting down in the big leather chair Satoru frequently falls asleep in as he pours over his work. He sighs, nodding, leaning against the chair, sitting just at the arm.

“It’s uncanny, is it not?” He murmurs, and you think of him then, with her, and for some reason it makes you sick.

“It’s eerie, certainly. Adelia was her name?”

“Yes. I long ago said I’d never utter her name, but you deserve to know, as for what she did…” He stands then, walking away, pacing the study now, running a hand through his silky hair. You stand as well, walking to the center of the room and stopping him with gentle hands.

“Tell me, please, so that I may understand.” You are pleading softly, and he exhales then, nodding, but you see his jaw tense, feel his emotions rising.

“Long story cut very short, I was madly in love with her, or so I thought. She was the most beautiful thing I’d seen, she was so funny, witty, smart. Unlike anything. I was pathetic for her, spent anything I had, made myself go into debts with my father over the extravagant gifts.” You try to picture Satoru that way, and he notices. “I know it’s a far cry from who I am now.”

“No, I believe I can see you being generous.” You say softly, because the man had literally bought you a horse, and you’ve seen him be very generous with his friends and the staff. It wasn’t out of the realm.

“Generous was an understatement. I let her walk all over me, and thanked her for it. I even knew she had other men, and I’d still beg for her.” You suck in a breath, feeling the hurt, the anger emanating from him.

“Oh.” Is all you manage. “It was disloyal, so you decided to-”

“No, no, I was not disloyal once to her. I only treated you that way.” Satoru chokes on the words, taking several breaths now, as you stand in front of him, the fire crackling in the study, casting shadows of your figures across the walls, flickering flames higher and higher.

“I see.” Is all you can manage. “I suppose I did it as well, and that’s what triggered your reaction?”

“I never should have reacted that way.” He caresses your cheek softly, sighing, leaning lower. “Do not give me excuses for my actions.”

“Not excuses, they are reasons I suppose.”

“Still, even so.” His hand drops then, to your shoulder, resting on one of your puffed sleeves, his long fingers gently touching the fabric. “It’s not that, why I hated you for looking like her, she did something far worse.”

Your brows knit together. “Worse than cheating on you constantly?”

“Yes she… well her and my father…”

You blink then, as it all starts to fall together, Satoru’s fury at his dead father, his fear of having children because he would be just like them, and the unreasonable way he hated you on sight. She couldn’t have…

“She slept with him?” You manage softly, and he nods just a bit, taking several breaths, you gently hold his arms. “Holy fuck.”

“You have such a sailor's tongue.” He says with a little smile, as his eyes glimmer with unshed emotion. “For such a pretty mouth.”

“Satoru, I’m truly sorry. I don’t…”

“It’s no excuse for what I did. But… I hope now, it makes any sense at all. But you never, ever deserved one goddamn thing I did.” He’s looking away now, covering his face, shaking his head. “Nothing I have done to you is okay, I swear I will take it to my fucking grave, the hurt on your face-”

“Satoru.” You gently say, easing his hand down, seeing the glistening of tears on his pale cheek, you swipe it gently, and his hand is delicately holding yours, keeping it there.

“I do not deserve pity or comfort from you, I was terrible. I can’t make up for it, I can’t fix it. I can’t fix this.” His chest heaves now, and you feel your own emotions jolt to life, at his desperation. “And what’s worse, is now I find myself falling for you, and I know I’m not good enough.”

“Falling for me?” You look at him in shock, shaking your head. “Certainly a physical connection-”

“No.” He cuts you off now, bending low, pressing your back against the cherry wood desk of his. Your heart thuds in your chest, as you look up at swirling blue eyes by the fire light of the study, as it casts shadows and planes on his perfect features, features that become dear more and more as you look at them.

“No?” Your voice is a breath.

“No, not just physically. I thought so at first, your beauty outshines hers, you clearly are my type, what a lie that was.”

“Um… clearly.” You manage with a little laugh, and he glares.

“Do not excuse it, do not make light of it, any of it.”

“I am not.”

“But it’s not just physical, today when you were hand twisting fucking crowns for those kids, cutting your pretty hands on those twigs.” He takes one now, running his fingers where little scratches were left, and your breaths come faster and faster. “Yesterday, when you held that little girl. When you lit up and thanked me for that horse. When I saw your true beauty, so deep within.”

“Please… don’t. Don’t say that!” You feel your eyes burn, your throat closing up, as he steals more and more of your heart, wicked fucking Duke Gojo, but he’s serious, while he’s brushing your loose hair back, making your knees weak.

“I can’t help but say it, before you leave me forever.” His voice breaks now, and you’re clinging to his dress shirt, that’s falling loosely over his lithe body. “I love your kind heart, I love your caring nature, fuck everyone in that villiage adores you, everyone adores you. Even my goddamn former mistress, my best friends, they love you.”

You shake your head. “No, I just…”

“And every time I paraded them around, those women, you held your composure, but I know it killed you. I know it did. It hurt you. And I can’t forgive myself for it. For hurting someone so pure and sweet, and pushing you so far, so far you ran into a man’s arms, and I don’t blame you. I don’t.”

“Please don’t. Don’t say all this!”

“Say what, that my heart yearns to see that smile, the one that lights up the entire world?” You choke on your sobs, and he’s swiping at your tears, his own lip trembling as he takes a shaky breath. “That my body burns for your touch, that you haunt my every dream, and every waking moment.” His husky tone nearly breaks you then and there, as your breasts heave up and down with every breath.

“You can’t mean it. You can’t.” You choke out the words, as you feel yourself drawn to him, like he is that all consuming black hole, and you’d be fine getting destroyed if it meant being in his arms.

“I for once am honest, after a month of lies. Feel my heart.” He puts your little hand on his chest, and you feel it, pounding, making you weak, as your eyes lock upon each other.

“It cannot be true, not a word. If you felt that you would have never!”

“I grew to feel it more and more. Now it’s consuming me, whole, I’d let you walk all over me just to feel your goddamn step. I’d let you destroy me just to watch your pretty face as you do. I would do anything to see you smile, to see your face as you feel pleasure, to taste you, to-”

“Fuck, shut up, shut up!” You shove at him now, and he lets you, gulping and staring at you so pleadingly, this six foot plus man who looms so tall, seems so small and fragile. “I hate you more for saying it all! For making me believe it!” You cry out hoarsely, and he lets you smack at him, nodding, just standing there.

“You should hate me, you should never forgive me.” He whispers sullenly, and you hate that you want to forgive him, that you want him to…

“Hold me, please.” You beg softly, and he breaks with you, holding you tightly against his hard body, enwrapping his strong arms around you, as you bury your face against his chest, crying in earnest.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I will spend every moment making it up, as much as I can, before you leave.” His voice is a hoarse whisper, and you realize then, you don’t want to fucking leave. “I know I have lost you, I know I never had you.”

“Satoru.” You lean up, looking at him now, and he brushes your endless tears with his long fingers, gulping and nodding for you to continue. “I’m not saying I will stay, but I will say… I have not yet made up my mind to leave, either.”

He blinks then, with those teary lashes, sucking in a breath, his blue eyes swirling as they study you. “You haven’t!?”

“No. Not yet. It does not mean I forgive you, or even like you. But it does mean that… I wish to understand you more, to understand this more.” You take his hand, feeling the thrumming energy between you both. “I will give you that chance, the month, to show me who you are, before I decide fully.”

“I thought I had no chance. I thought you couldn’t wait to leave.” He whispers, and you take a shaky breath now.

“Well, you are trying, and I see it.”

“It’s not too late?”

“I do not know yet. Do you mean it, what you said, about seeing me, seeing me truly?”

He laughs softly, brushing your hair back tenderly, kissing your forehead, something you never thought Duke Gojo would do. “Oh, Princess, I mean every fucking word. I see your heart and soul, the kindness, but you know what I also see? Your bad mouth, your ability to destroy me with a look, your snappy little remarks.” He says with a little smirk now.

You smile a bit then, and he smiles down at you, pressing you further into the desk, and you feel your body react quickly. “Oh do you enjoy that, the way I wreck you with my words?”

“I’d let you wreck me in every fucking way.” His hand slides up your skirts now, and your breath quickens. “You’re strong, you’re not some simpering little damsel, you could probably crush me, kick my ass.”

You giggle now, then his hands pause on your bare thigh, fingering your garter belt, and your pussy reacts by clenching around nothing, your head falling back, a little sigh escaping your lips. “Kick your ass, you’re too big and tall.”

“You’re a scary little thing, I think you’d kick me in the dick.” You laugh again, and he marvels at it, his thumb making little circles closer to your heat. Your own hands slide up his chest, as he makes you feel more seen than anyone ever has, and how does he see you so well?

“I was sorely tempted after that whore on the table.”

“You and that tablecloth move? Fuck that made me hard.”

“You’re always hard, you slutty man.” Your fingers drift down to his belt, toying with him, giving him a little smile, and he smirks, his free hand cupping your face.

“I would do anything to feel you again, even knowing I do not deserve you. Give anything for you to sit on my face.”

Your tummy clenches, face flushed at the lewd, insane images he brings. “Sit on your face!? I… what!?”

He sighs, kissing you gently, finding you with his fingers finally, moaning softly as he does, you drink up his moans into your mouth. “I’ve had this fantasy of your thighs on either side of my face, pussy dripping on me.”

“Satoru that… sounds insane!”

“You could shut my mouth up, use me how you want. Ride me.” His words destroy you, his touch on your clit makes you moan, and he’s watching you hungrily, lips parted. “Fuck you’re beautiful. So wet, I want it dripping down my face.”

“We shouldn’t do this.” You whisper, but your hips are leaning forward, to more of his touch, Satoru’s lips hover just above yours, and you embarrassingly hear how wet you are when he’s rubbing between your lips.

“You shouldn’t give me anything, but you do, and I’m too selfish and greedy not to drink up every bit of it. Of you.”

“Shit.”

“You cuss so-” You yank him down now, slamming his lips upon yours, he’s grabbing at you desperately, tongue swirling in your mouth, as his fingers find you so hot and eager, soaking him. “I could never kiss another set of lips.”

“Liar.”

“Well, your other set of lips.” He says with a smirk, and you hate it, how charming he is, how handsome, how much you just fucking love him touching you, how much you enjoy him truly. You don’t want to enjoy him, you don’t want to need him, but it is a need, very much, a deep need from every part of you.

“Manwhore.” You say with a scowl, and he’s kissing you once more, biting your lower lip with sharp teeth, making you tremble as your hands now cling to his shoulders, feeling the strong muscles move as he fingers your wetness.

“You’re no pure, innocent little thing, are you now?” He raises a brow, and you’re flushed. “How many times?”

You tense a bit, looking up at him. “Twice.”

He blinks now, pausing, his mouth open. “Only twice!?”

“How much did you think? Keep fingering me and shut up, mmm.” He listens to you thank god, this man talks so fucking much, fingering you once more, pressing on that little spongy spot inside you over and over, you’re gasping and crying out as he plays you so fucking perfect.

“I thought much more. No wonder you seemed so surprised when I flipped you over, took you from behind.” He whispers in your ear now, and you heat up at the memory, as he’s breathing in your ear, making shivers slip down your spine. “Did you get this wet for him?”

“No, you stupid man. Fuck you for that too.” He slips two inside of you now, pressing up over and over, your thighs trembling as you overheat now, desire pooling and bringing you closer and closer. “Mmm!”

“Those sounds you make, fuck.” He pulls back to look at you, cupping your face, the intensity of his stare with his pumping fingers in your slick cunt make you rise higher and higher. “You’re so sexy, so beautiful.”

“You don’t-”

“I do think so, I know so. Every bit of you.” He’s pressing in so deep you can’t take it, kissing down your throat now, your breasts, and your hands enwrap in his hair, as you crave more and more of him, as you lose yourself to it. You feel as if somehow you are yourself more with him than you could be with anyone, you didn’t have to be ‘perfect’ anymore.

“I shouldn’t want this so badly.” You whisper, pulling back, but he’s fucking into you with those fingers, drawing you closer and closer.

“Cum on my fingers, please. Let me watch you.” He murmurs, eyes lidded, and you do then, you fall apart, head falling back, nearly collapsing on his desk as you’re pulsing around his fingers. Your entire body lit up. “Fuck.”

“Mnh.” Satoru hungrily slides up your skirts then, bringing you to him, your thighs gripping his lithe hips, taking his two fingers now and putting them in your mouth.

“Suck yourself off, like a good little slut, would you?” You glare, biting him, and he chuckles even as he shakes his hand, exhaling and studying you so intensely. “You’re a vicious little thing.”

“Fuck you.” You yank him closer again however, and he’s slamming things off his desk, papers flying.

“Fuck you right here, huh? I want you in my bed.”

“We’ll get there. And my bed, I would like to burn yours.”

“Burn it hmm?”

“Indeed.” You slip off his dress shirt now, exhaling as you run fingers down his every muscle. “Your body is so…”

“So?”

“Don’t get cocky. It’s so beautiful.” He unlaces your bodice now, as you’re sitting on his desk, looking up at him, and he then begins to unlace your stays, letting your breasts bounce out for his eager eyes.

“Your body is so beautiful. I almost fainted like a schoolboy when you first showed me them.” You laugh a bit, and he tilts his head, caressing the sides of them with his fingers, your nipples grow taut, he watches as they tighten for him. “I’ve heard you laugh a lot tonight.”

“I used to laugh, you know. At times.”

“It lights up your face.” You can hardly stand how he speaks, so softly, you melt in front of him. “It lights up my heart.”

You gulp now, throat dry. “You have a heart, Duke Gojo?”

“Satoru. And yes.” He cups your breasts now, bending low, your hands entwine in his silky locks as he leans over you, pressed between your thighs, you feel him, so hard and hot. “It’s perhaps shattered in pieces, but seeing you laugh, smile? It feels as if perhaps I can piece some together. Not enough for you, but you’d have it all.”

“Oh shut up.” You can’t take it, his raw emotion, how easy it would be to dive into him, but fuck you need him, need him like your air, how does one make it so hard to breathe yet he’s all you want to breathe!?

“Tell me what you want, Princess.” Satoru murmurs now, gripping your thighs and pulling you against him, you feel his length pressing on you over his breeches, and you are wanton when you grind on him, soaking him.

“No.”

“Then never mind.” He pulls away and you glare.

“Get back here.”

“And do what?”

“Fuck me.” Duke Gojo moans then, rushing back, as you eagerly unbutton his pants, as you stroke his pretty cock that springs free, watching his pretty face contorted in pleasure.

“Promise me you’ll sit on my face later, and I will.”

“Oh fine, I will, just fuck- ah!” Satoru’s pressing on your entrance now, only the edge of your ass on his desk, as he’s sucking in a breath, feeling your wetness pulse around him. You almost come from his tip again, you barely hold it together, eyes rolling back when he sinks in more and more. “Mmm!”

“Fuck you’re so tight, oh my god.” Satoru’s words break in the middle as he gasps, sinking in so deep, leaning over you now, breathing heavy in little pants as he studies your face. “Pussy so good it makes men stupid.”

“You’re already- ah- stupid!” Satoru’s shoving hard in you now, glaring, and you can’t stop the cry as you feel him stroking in and out of your soppy little cunt now, his big hands gripping your thighs, your ass, anywhere he can reach, stretching you out so good. “Satoru.”

He’s pumping into you now, and you’re feeling so good you can’t remember a goddamn thing, just whimpering. “I’ll fuck you so good, Princess, you will forget anything I did.”

“Then do it, then do it. Please.” He slams his lips on yours, before flipping you over, unzipping your skirts and leaving you bare, stripping your chemise off you in one fell swoop, before he smacks your ass. You gasp. “Excuse you?”

“Someone should punish you for your mouth.” He whispers, lifting your tummy onto the desk so you’re at level, legs dangling as he presses them wide. “Fuck, this view…”

“What are you-” You’re cut off then, as Satoru is shoving his cock back inside, you grip the desk, but he takes your hands, pressing them behind your back and holding them, using them as leverage to fuck you harder. Your moans are so loud you’re sure the entire staff can hear, feeling so much pleasure it’s blinding.

“I always wanted to fuck you so hard your tiara clatters to the fucking floor.” He huffs then, slamming into your pussy and staying there, you’re shuddering as his tip drags along your walls.

“It’s… not… I… mmm!” You’re getting fucked so good, Satoru hits so deep you can’t take it, your walls are fluttering, tightening.

“Feel you clenching around me like that, holy… fuck…” He’s smacking your ass again, stinging your cheeks, but it just makes you wetter, as does his hand pulling your hair back now, body arched into an S curve just for him. “Did he fuck you this good, your silly baker?”

“Did they feel this good, your mistresses?” You counter with a whisper, and he laughs, before groaning.

“Fuck no. No one ever has.” You hate that you enjoy hearing it so much, but you do, you love that he’s owning you, fucking into you, so big compared to you, you feel so tiny and helpless, and it’s just urging you on. “No one could feel this good.”

“Mnh…”

“So good I’d cum in you, have you round with my child.”

“Satoru!”

“I would if you wanted, fuck you’d be so sexy, cum pouring our of your little hole, mmm. I’d lick it up out of you, spit it in your mouth.”

The fuck the man is some demon, all he does is urge you on with his words, his hands, his cock until - “Satoru- cumming!”

“Good girl, good girl. Cum all over me.” He urges then, his hands letting your arms go, one wrapping around your waist, finding your clit, just pushing you further, until you’re a writhing mess, wetness gushing everywhere. “There you go, so good for me, dripping all over, aren’t you?”

“Ngh.” You cannot manage anymore words, not when he fills you with the most lewd images, not when he fills you with his cock, stuffed so deep you feel the weeping tip kissing your cervix. Satoru’s fingers rub in tantalizing circles over your clit, which twitches in response, you get so weak you lay forward on the desk, legs shaking.

“Can’t hold yourself up, are you so weak, Princess?” He whispers, menacingly, fuck him, fuck Duke Gojo- “F-fuck… oh my… you like that, don’t you?”

“Shut up, Satoru.” He laughs softly, before gasping, now hovering over you, one hand braced against the desk, the other tilting your face to the side.

“So good you’re crying?”

“C-crying because… you’re… pissing… me… off! Just shut up and- ah!” Satoru slams hard into you now, a hand around your neck, and you are arching your ass for more and more of him.

“I want to cum in you so bad, fill you up. Fuck you make me stupid.”

“You already are, remem- mmm!”

“Bratty girl.” He huffs, smacking your ass again, harder now, before gripping it, pressing your face down on his desk. “Arch that ass up, Princess.”

You weakly obey, as he’s pressing your head against the cool wood of the desk, and you’re arched up for him, for his smacks, for his thrusts. You feel drool pooling out the side of your mouth he fucks you so good, slamming into you with each thrust, hand clutching in your hair tightly. You’re getting fucked so good you can’t form a thought, except-

“More.” You plead, Satoru groans at that, obeying you, fucking you harder, faster, deeper, until you’re climaxing so hard you can scarcely breathe, shattering and twitching, pussy gripping him so tightly, you feel him everywhere. You feel him splitting you in two, filling you so good you can’t stand it.

“Cum again.” He orders, through gritted teeth, bending low over you, his chest slick with sweat against your back, slowing his thrusts now, swiping the drool from your lips, kissing the tears falling on your cheek. “Beautiful.”

“Mmm. Why do I believe- ah- you.” You whisper, when he’s pulling you up, turning you now, lifting you back on the desk, to look at you intensely, his swirling blue eyes like a storm in the evening, so hard to even look at, yet you’re drowning in them.

“You are the most beautiful thing that exists.” He is gentle suddenly, which throws you more off kilter, your cunt sucks him back in, as he’s holding onto you, kissing you, tongues so messy and slow, leisurely, like he’s exploring every inch of your mouth. You cling to his shoulders, shaking everywhere, closer and closer. “Perfect for me, made for me.”

“Shh.” You can’t handle him, falling deeper for him every moment he breathes, wishing you could hate him more, wishing you could remember at the moment how horrible he’d been, but you feel his heat, his energy, his length… his touch, and it breaks down every defense you’ve ever had.

“Love being inside of you.” He says then, pulling your hips up to grind on your cervix now, eyes drinking you in, you’re stretched so good, you feel him thicken inside, feel his every movement, as you’re soaking him, soaking so much you drip to the floor. “Love watching you.”

“I love you inside me.” You can’t hold it in, and he gasps, pausing just to look a you, your cunt is spasming around him, your head falling back weakly.

“You love it?”

“I love it, Satoru…” He kisses you again, grinding until you cum so hard you can’t breathe, gasping and clinging to him so tightly, nails digging into the taut skin of his back, burying your face in his chest as he moans, slowing his strokes.

“There it is. Good girl.”

“Don’t say that. Mnh, I’m dumb enough.” You kiss up his chest, his neck, as his hands take over your little waist, his eyes drinking you in, kissing your cheeks, your face, it’s far too intimate, it’s too much, overwhelming you, while you’re a mess around him.

“Where do you… want me to… m’close, fuck.” He whispers, and you struggle to form a coherent thought, as your inner thighs tighten around his hips, whining out at how good he feels inside your walls.

“Let me swallow you.” You whisper, and his mouth drops.

“Oh you’re such a freak, I love it.” He pumps in you harder before pulling back, and pulling you down. “On your knees, pretty.”

You eagerly get on them, looking up at him, he is stroking his slick length, you smack his hand, doing it yourself, the pearls of your ring glowing. Satoru’s free hand strokes your hair, his head falling back when you stroke him, opening your mouth. He lets out this sexy little whine when his tip hits your tongue, and you taste yourself on him as you suck him deeper.

“Oh my… slutty princess.” He whispers, but you love it, love throbbing and aching from him, love being on your knees, as he caresses your face, shoving his cock into your mouth. “F-fuck, you sure you can swallow it all?”

“Shut up and cum, Satoru.” You whisper, pulling back with a pop, and he follows your order, gasping as he cums in your mouth now, and cums so much, you swallow every bit of him up, fuck he’s so sweet, like those candies he sucks on.

You gulp down every bit, hot and sticky and pulsing down your throat, as he keeps fucking your mouth through it, more and more little spurts of cum, you greedily suck him clean, cheeks hollowing. He’s whispering a mantra of how beautiful you are, how good you are, a mess over you.

“Open up, lemme see.” You open your mouth now, tongue out, and he groans, helping you stand, gripping your chin. “Want to swallow more of me, Princess?”

You nod nervously, and he leans over you now, spitting in your mouth, gripping your chin so possessively as the stream of saliva streams. You swallow it as well, opening your mouth for his inspection, and he’s kissing you again, tongue devouring you, picking your naked body up in his arms.

“God you’re so good. Do you even know, what you look like with that mouth open wide, with those pretty eyes fucked out?” He’s kissing you over and over, and soon he’s changed how he’s holding you, bridal style. You’re shaking then, your emotions overwhelming you.

“Don’t hold me like this.” You say softly, and he shakes his head, kissing you as he carries you effortlessly.

“I should have, that night. Weigh nothing, little slip of a girl. I was wrong. So bloody wrong, about it all. Now let me do everything I have dreamed of, while I have  you here.” You’re crying then, as he carries you into your room.

“You listened.” You whisper, and he’s nodding, gently laying you down on your back, leaning on top of you, hovering just so, drinking you in.

“We’ll burn that bed if you wish. I’ll do anything to keep you happy, to keep you smiling, keep you cumming.” His hands trail down your tummy, it trembles under his touch.

“I’ve already cum too much. I cannot do more, insane man.” He smiles softly then, touching you everywhere, you’re so sensitive you can’t stand it. “Perhaps after some rest, I’m sore.”

He laughs softly, nodding then. “So, may I rest here with you?”

You gulp then, biting your lower lip. “You want to lay in bed?”

“Of course I do. I yearn to hold you every night.” You shut your eyes while he strokes your arms gently, then your waist. “You will send me away, had your way with my cock and send me off like a mistress.”

“Oh stop that, silly man.” You look up at him, grinning so big against your will, and his breath catches. “What is it?”

“Every time you smile like that, it’s like you grip me here.” He puts your hand on his bare chest now, and you sigh, tracing your fingers along one of his well formed pectoral muscles.

“I want to trust this, believe this, but I’m fucking terrified. What if I let you in, and you fully destroy me?” You whisper, unable to stop your tears, Satoru’s eyes shut, he rests his head on yours.

“I know you’re scared. I can give you time. I’m doing too much-”

“No, I want it all. All of this.” You lean up now, kissing him through your tears, over and over, you’re a tangle of limbs on the bed now, he’s pulling you even closer against him, a thigh between yours, pressing up.

“I want all of you. Every bit of you.” He says huskily. “I’d let you do anything, if you just come back to me.”

“Satoru I only want you, so much so I… I thought of you when…”

“I thought of you too. About how it’d feel tighter, wetter.” You whine out when he’s shoving two fingers in your sore little entrance now, your head falling back, exposing your throat for his kisses, his bites. “Pictured that beautiful face of yours, saw you in my every dream.”

“You took over my dreams.” He moans now, slamming his lips back to yours, and you feel yourself falling further and further into the abyss that is him, into his every touch, every look, every sound he makes. You feel him wrapping you up, and you never want to escape.

“You dreamt of me?” He asks, you see him so vulnerable again, and now that you know his past, you realize how hard it must be. You cup his face gently.

“Over and over, against my will. If I dreamt of someone, your face would take over, annoying me to no end.” He grins then, pecking a kiss on your breasts now, looking up through his long white lashes.

“My dreams were not annoying.”

“Well you annoy me, so. Vex me to no end.”

“Do I? Or are you vexed that you enjoy me?” He teases, earning you rolling your eyes at him, then he’s back to fingering you, and you forget everything, as he’s pumping in and out of you, and you’re dripping everywhere, embarrassingly. “You get wetter than anyone, I swear.”

“It’s annoying too.”

“Is it now? Hear yourself.” You do then, hear the squishing, you’re blushing so furiously, and you’re feeling him hard again, right on your thigh. “Did you get your rest now?”

“I haven’t- ah - rested!” He’s running his thumb on your clit, you’re arching up for more and more of him, lost in him, in his blue eyes that kill you.

“You rode that horse so well.” He pulls you then, on his chest, grinning up at you deviously, and you’re trembling.

“I can’t sit on your face!”

“You sure can, Princess, look, there you are.” He’s gripping the plush of your inner thighs, and you’re straddling his pretty face, he moans when he looks at your pussy, licking his lips. “Is this my dessert?”

“Oh you’re insane! What if I crush you!?” You’re holding yourself up by the headboard, shaking as he laughs against you, breath tickling your pussy, making more wetness trickle down.

“You cannot crush me, foolish girl. Please, ride my face, as much as you want, you can shut me up fully.” You can’t take his sexy eyes, his beautiful lips, as you’re hesitantly easing down on him, your pussy hovering right above his face.

“If you can’t breathe will you tap me or something!?”

He laughs softly. “You will not hurt me, little Princess. Now, c’mere.” He yanks you down now, burying his face against you, you gasp, back arching, you’re clinging to his silky hair, trying to balance yourself. Your stomach tightens as he’s lapping you up, fucking you with his tongue, nose hitting your swollen nub.

“Toru!” You scream out, and he backs away then, eyes hitting yours, flicking his tongue along your slit, his hands holding your hips tightly.

“What now?” He asks, husky, and you bite your lip nervously.

“Um, it came out that way?” You whisper, he smiles then, lashes lowering, pressing a kiss on your pussy lips gently.

“I like it. Now, ride me, pull my hair all you want. Use me.”

“Fuck.” Why is this duke so stupidly attractive!?

You begin to do just that, and he’s moaning as you do, as you’re rolling your hips on his perfect features, soaking him completely, you are gasping in pleasure as his hot, wet muscle devours you. He’s licking between your lips, hitting every bit of you, and you’re even wetter, so wet you watch it drip down his face, until it’s shimmering with you, and then he’s pushing you even further down onto him.

His face is buried against you, his cock thick and hard, twitching, pre cum oozing out of the tip as he tastes you, bucking his own hips up. You feel the tension coiling in your tummy as he keeps licking and sucking, finally pulling your little clit in his hot mouth, sucking and looking up at you with those gorgeous, dilated fucking eyes, and you fall apart then.

You’re cumming all over him, gushing wetness all over him, feeling your body engulf in his flames, taking over you from head to toe, toes that are curling, your mouth open in a scream, hoarse as you roll your hips one more time. Your eyes lock on his, and he’s looking so adoringly at you, as he finally takes a breath, flicking his tongue over you once more, watching you shatter for him.

“Oh my god, Satoru… can’t take anymore.” You whimper weakly, only for him to pull you off his face, sliding you on his lap, slamming his lips on yours, as he grinds you against his length. “Satoru…”

“I liked Toru.” He teases with a smile, then moans as his tip bumps your clit, and you’re covering his cock with even more arousal, sticky and hot. “Fuck that was the sexiest thing, would you believe I haven’t done it?”

“No you’re a whore.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist, sitting up as you grind yourself on his cock now, whining softly at how good it feels, clinging to his shoulders.

“I have not done that, no. God I want to always have you on my lips.” He says, husky, kissing you over and over, your tongues swapping your taste, and then he’s lifting you, easing you back down his cock, you’re weak as he does, eyes going wide now. “Ride me, love.”

“Don’t call me love, ugh. Liar.” You whisper weakly, he shakes his head, kissing down your breasts, as you take more of him, inch by inch, sore legs from riding struggling to roll more on his cock, eliciting his moans.

“I did not lie today. I fall deeper for you.” He cups your face now, as he snaps his hips up into your tight cunt, and you shake your head, tears of how good he feels pricking your eyes, making you choke up. “I do.”

“Fuck you.”

“You are.” You giggle again, softly, pressing him down on his back then, your hair falling against his chest like a curtain.

“You want me to fuck you?” He nods eagerly, grabbing your ass, as you brace yourself on him, and he’s moaning, looking at your body, how your breasts sway when you start riding his cock in earnest. “So deep!”

“You’re gorgeous like this, fuck.” He’s enamored, his hands everywhere he can touch, as he lets you control everything, just urging you on here and there, watching you eagerly. “You are doing such a good job.”

“Stop saying the right thing.” He bucks his hips up with a glare, fucking up into you then, and you’re clinging to him desperately, breasts in his face now, he’s eagerly sucking them into his mouth.

“I should shut this bratty mouth up. I’m trying to be sweet, but you’re a freaky little brat.”

“Me freaky!?”

“Yes you. C’mere now.” He’s got you laying on him, his feet flattening on the bed, and now he’s fucking up into you, making you drip down his stomach, everywhere, your mouths devouring each other again. He’s desperate in his kisses, in his thrusts, and you feel yourself impossibly higher, as you’re helpless on top of him, just letting him use you so good.

“S’Toru…” He moans again, lifting your ass up with his big hands like it’s nothing, slamming you down his length so hard your mouth drops open, eyes rolling back.

“How can you feel this perfect? You’re made f’me, fucking say it.”

“N-no!”

“Say it, Princess. Just say it.”

“No!” He smacks your ass now, and you weakly cling to him, just wetter now, pussy so sore and stretched by him, but fuck you want it, you want all of Satoru, the Duke Gojo under you.

“Made for me.” He whispers through gritted teeth, you shake your head. “Stubborn, you’re so stubborn. Every inch of your little body is mine.”

“It’s not. Fuck you. Mmm!” He’s biting your throat now, grinding his hips so that his cock’s tip presses on your cervix, then your orgasm hits so hard you can hardly rememeber a thing. You can hardly keep to this timeline, to anything, all you can cling to is Satoru.

“Made for me. Say it.” He smacks you again, and you just cry out softly, weak and unable to move or hold yourself up. He flips you onto your back, hands entwining with yours, so intimate you can’t stand it, you feel like you can’t breathe when he’s laying on top, staring at you.

“Satoru…”

“Say it. That she’s made for me. Don’t I make her feel so good?” He whispers, rolling his hips again, and you moan, nodding. “Say it.”

“Made for you.” Your words are a breathy sigh, but Satoru is moaning, kissing you so deeply, one hand entwined in yours, the other gripping your hair tightly, pulling at it as he moves over you gently.

“I want you to be mine. All mine.” He says against your ear now, kissing it, biting it, and you’re senseless under him, anything you had left to fight is gone. “God I love everything about you.”

“Satoru!”

“I want to breed your pretty pussy so bad, fuck. How can you make me this way, fucking witchcraft.” He’s babbling nonsensically as he pumps, and you see his pupils are pinpoints, his eyes bright and insane. “How will I ever get over you!?”

“Just… just… feel me. Feel me. I feel you.” Your free hand touches his heart, emotions so deep as you look into his eyes you can’t handle it, you cannot take how much you are falling, it’s a neverending abyss, Satoru Gojo, you’re exhausted from holding it all back. “I just want you.”

“I just want you.” He whispers back, and then you’re so overstimulated every breath brings you higher, his hips are gently stroking, rolling, you’re reaching up for him, for more, drinking in every bit of him. “Never want this to end, fuck. Don’t even wanna cum.” His words are against your collarbone as he’s nipping, biting, declaring things that make your heart falter.

Can you trust him?

Fuck you want to.

“Would I get pregnant if you…”

His eyes go wide now. “Possibly.”

“Then you can’t…”

“Then I can’t…” He presses a hand on your stomach, leaning up and exhaling. “Not until you decide.”

“I want you to, though.” He groans at your insane confession. “Don’t… but I do… want it…”

“Fuck.” He fucks you hard for a moment, chasing his release, clinging to you desperately, then he pulls back. “Can I cum on it?”

“Will that be okay?” You ask, he nods, and you bite your lip. “You can.”

“Jesus fuck, I don’t deserve any of this.” He exhales then, pulling out, stroking his cock, and hot white ropes shoot out, hitting the outer lips of your pussy, he’s moaning as he watches it, and you’re so flushed and flustered, at how lewd it looks. His hot sticky cum all over your pussy. “Oh my god look at you.”

“It’s obscene.” You say, and he laughs then, breathless, all sweaty and glistening, cupping your chin and tilting it up.

“The obscene things I want to do to your pretty body have barely began.”

“Barely began!?”

“You’re so cute.”

“Cute!”

“Mmm. Cute and slutty looking at the same time.” He fingers the sticky substance, all out of breath as you are. “I made you a mess. Shall I clean you, Princess?”

“Why do you seem so devious!? I… Satoru!” He’s lapping up his own cum off your pussy, and then he’s leaning over you, prying your mouth open with two fingers, spitting his cum inside your mouth. You gasp as he does, only serving to make your sore pussy throb with more need.

“You’re so sexy, fuck.” He whispers, as you swallow him all up.

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru Gojo. A fiend.” He smirks, but you’re reaching down, playing with it yourself, sucking him off your fingers.

“Fuck I can’t get enough of you. You too sore?”

“Yes too sore, insane man.” You kiss him again, as both of your fluids are mixing with your saliva, dripping between you both. “I’m exhausted now.”

“Let me sleep with you, please.” He pouts, as if he hadn’t just spit his cum in your mouth, like some innocent puppy.

“Oh fine, but let’s actually clean up. And you’re making me tea.”

“I don’t know how to make fucking tea!”

“You put the kettle on!?”

“What the fuck is a kettle? I’ll fetch a servant.”

“No, you make me tea, or no sleeping in my bedchambers.” He scowls, and you glare now.

“You’re cruel and evil, I made you cum countless times, and demanding more shit from me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Fine, you teach me.” He cleans you up properly with a washcloth, then he’s dressing you in one of your night wrappers, a pretty soft pale blue, which he ties carefully in the front. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” You say, and he grins.

“Finally, no arguments?”

“None for the moment. Now, tea.” You drag him by his hand, and he follows you through the halls, you see several of the servants smiling and grinning, even your nan smiles softly as you two enter the kitchen. “Nan, fetch some tea please, I need to show this grown man how to make some.”

“I’ve always had a staff.” He huffs, and your Nan laughs softly, coming with a kettle and several pouches.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, my sweet girl. Your grace.” She curtsies a bit, still giving Satoru the eye, and he sighs as she walks out.

“She wants to kill me.”

“You blame her? She had to see a lot no one else did.” It grows a little serious now, as you prepare the water, setting it in the kettle and firing it up. You look back at him as it begins to steam. “I do not say that to hurt you.”

“I know. It’s just… I cannot imagine what you went through because of me.” You hug him then, letting him sway you side to side, drinking in his presence, letting it soak into your bones, your being. “You told me to make it.”

“You can pour the water.” He snorts at that, changing the tense subject, but as he caresses your cheek, you can tell his actions weigh on him. Finally you set the bags of pretty herbs into two cups. “Let’s see a high pour.”

“A what now?” You giggle, shaking your head.

“Pour high, Satoru.”

He pours the hot, steamy water on top of the tea bags, and you both sit down at one of the servant tables, your pussy and ass so sore you wince. He grins. “Sore, huh Princess?”

“Oh do you ever shut that mouth, Satoru!?”

“When you rode my-”

“Hush, now, sip.” He blows on the steaming liquid, lips that had drank your cries, lips that did obscene things, his long fingers holding the delicate little handle of the teacup, you can barely control how much you desire him, everything about him. 

“There, I made you tea, bratty girl. You’ll lay with me.” He huffs, and then snatches you up, sitting you on his lap.

“Oh fine, if you snore I shall kick you right out, you can lay in your whore bed.”

“My whore bed, hmm?”

“Mmhmm! Oh, we have a ball to go to tomorrow, I nearly forgot with all we’ve been doing in town.”

“Imagine a ball where we don’t hate each other.”

“Who says I don’t.” He smiles then, shaking his head, kissing your cheek softly, hand running down your back. “A little less though.”

“I’ll take a little less. Did you enjoy cooking so much to get away from your mother I wonder?”

“That is how it started. Ugh, she’ll be there. Back to the corset.”

“Fuck no.” He grips your little waist then, and your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels. “You’ll wear no corset, you can wear those stays, so I can see more of your pretty form.”

“Satoru…” He hums then, as you sip your tea, setting it down with a click, wrapping your arms around him. “Fuck it. I’m very happy.”

“I’m so happy with you. Like this with me.” He kisses your chest softly, where your heart races for him, snowy white hair tickling you as it falls.

“I’m scared though.”

“I know. I will keep proving to you that I can be worthy, I swear it.” He declares, eyes looking up at you, and you believe him, you really do.

Maybe you’re a fool but you feel his sincerity.

“Let us sleep, Satoru, and no more funny business. I’m sore.”

“In the morning though?”

“Satoru!” He is laughing, picking you up in his arms again, and fuck it feels good to be held like this. You’re so terrified something will happen, to ruin this, something outside of you and Satoru, so scared it gnaws at you, but it’s eased when you’re later in his arms, under your thick blankets, and he’s holding you.

Satoru Gojo, your husband, spends the first night in bed with you, after nearly a month of marriage.

You fall asleep easily for the first time since you got here.

A/N: So this was a very Gojo/Reader based chapter, with the upcoming ball we will have more drama and intrigue, for now these two just were enjoying each other and opening up. The first bit of lightness I think I've written in here! Hope you enjoy a lighter chap, and smut filled.

Until next time, dear readers

Taglist : @kalopsia-flaneur @bunheadusa @7thsthings @disilluzions  @chiyokoemilia  @antisocialinlw @Sukunassfinger @lelsforlino @peppertoastuniverse @muvasuperior @prince-wyiilder @lavender-hvze @ssetsuka  @labelt-san  @sadmonke @philiatothephobia @ambiguouslady42 @stromynight @dreamygirli3 @jjknanamin @jazlenekasi @victoriaaaa00 @wuvnada @valleydoli @nanasukii28 @sw3etnena @dark-agate @tamaki-simp @yuuuumii @givluv2tyy @webshooterrr9 @miizuzu @thikcems @erensblackwife @murayamayoshiki-lovergurl @airandyeah @jaylenezzz @blue-musingss @huuuhwhaat @makingtimemine @saccharinesatoru @sunnyviewsblog @nanananananaiknow @spookyblackhottie @ekaterinatepes @murayamayoshiki-lovergurl @szna @crimsonmarabou @teacupwaifu

[joongbin]

missed you. - s.cb ♔︎

summary › clingy changbinnie 🧐

genre › fluff

warnings › kissing, binnie is so clingy its unbelievable

pairings › seo changbin x gn!reader

𑁍𑁍𑁍. .𑁍𑁍𑁍

2:12 A.M.

Changbin stretched with heavy eyes. Their newest comeback had been keeping the three producers on their toes. God, he missed you so much. He groaned as he put his head on the table. Jisung had left earlier since he got too tired to work on the song. Chan looked over to Changbin with a light chuckle.

“ you know you can just leave right now, right? ” He walked over to the male, patting his back.

“ .. are you sure? I don't want you to be alone, y'know? ” Changbin sat up with a frown, looking up at Chan. He didn't wanna leave Chan alone at 2 A.M., what if he accidentally slept in the studio?

“ yeah, and c'mon. i know how much you miss them. ” Chan chuckled again when he saw Changbin's pout with the tips of his ears turning red.

“ yeah, yeah. Don't stay up too late, m'kay? ” Changbin packed his belongings in to his bag before leaving. Chan waved bye to him with a smile. Bang Chan closed the door since Changbin forgot to and got back to work.

𑁍

Changbin opened the door to see you laying on the couch, on your phone, blanket over you with the AC on. He closed the door behind him and put away his bag before laying on top of you.

“ so early? you usually come back by 3. ” You kissed his head while playing with his curls. He groaned and pouted before looking at you.

“ i missed you ... I didn't see you all day, y'know. ” He frowned. You chuckled lightly, patting his back.

“ i know, i know. I missed you too. Why don't you shower first before we sleep, okay? ” You cupped his cheeks before kissing him on the lips.

Changbin perked up slightly. He sat up and walked in to the bathroom to take a shower while you tried to relax your muscles. Having a buff man on your entire body hurts like hell.

𑁍

Now in the bedroom, the living room had all lights closed. Changbin got out of the shower with boxers and a sleeveless shirt. He dried his hair with a towel and hung it before jumping on the bed, beside you. The shower had woken him up, but he still needed to sleep.

“ baby, can we sleep now? ” Changbin held on to your arm, his voice sounding groggy. You hummed, shutting your phone off.

“ close the lights first. ” Changbin whined before obliging. He stood up from the bed and turned off the lights. He then laid down in front of you, wanting you to hold him instead.

You had an arm over him only, so he decided to take matters in to his own hands. Changbin wrapped an arm around you with a leg over yours. His head nuzzled in to your neck.

“ goodnight bin. ”

𑁍𑁍𑁍. .𑁍𑁍𑁍

[soloistschornicles]

⌗𝕿𝖔 𝕳𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕿𝖔 𝕳𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖑𝖊

〈 🥀 〉⏤ SYNOPSIS. The children of the desert have a rich tradition of song and dance. Originally used to praise and serve the gods, the crafts were later adapted for battle and the seduction of kings. In the midst of the sand storm, you met the (former) General Mahamatra among the sand dunes.

♔. . .PAIRING. cyno x reader﹔ft. traveler and paimon

♔. . .FORMAT. oneshot

♔. . .TAGS & WARNING. floral ring-dancer!reader﹔gender are not mention﹔strangers-to-enemies﹔acquaintance-to-friends﹔

UNLOCK THE STORY WITH 〈 🗝 〉

𝐈.

"Care for a dance, general?"

An array of sand, blown by the wind and dust alike, lay across the desert plain, reflecting back the orange glow of sunset as it stretched out far to the edge of sight. Waves of Dendro and Electro energy particles danced and fizzed around one another in complex harmony as they collided against each other.

The sound of the clashing weapons echoed across the sand as the two figures sparred with each other for the upper hand. Their blades rang like a symphony as they struck the ground and bounced off, their movements growing more frantic as they fought. 

His body remained still and focused. His eyes gleamed under the low light as he observed his opponent. The Floral Ring-Dancer in front of him tosses the chakram at full speed, but the General's reflexes are swift, allowing him to block the strike in midair. 

"Catch this!"

A second later, however, the chakram strikes once again. A flash of silver catches his eye as the chakram flies past him. His instincts take over as he deflects the attack.

"You're quick, but your weapon is too heavy." He parries an attack from the assault, the impact shaking the air. 

"And too sharp, though I'm willing to forgive its weight if you could manage to hit me instead." 

He ducks under a blow aimed for his head, sending a kick toward his stomach. "Or perhaps if you were able to land a blow…" 

The rest of the sentence was left unsaid. The General had no interest in fighting anyone at all that day. In fact, he was supposed to be at the designated location where the smugglers are said to be hidden. But if his opponent wanted something different, then so be it. He might as well indulge them while he could. 

"Gotta say, general, ⏤I've never taken you as a dancer. Might as well enjoy it while it last." You harumphed.

Dendro energy engulfs your whole figure, teleporting behind the poker-faced general and performing a swift slash across his back. 

The General barely manages to bring up his staff just in time to block you. With a flick of the wrist, he sends you flying backward across the sandy terrain. 

Your body skids on the rough terrain, coming to a stop only when you collide with the sand dune. You groan as the wind is knocked out of you. You cough violently. 

"Ow…," you wheeze.

The General takes advantage of your position and attacks again, aiming for your head this time. You quickly roll onto your side to avoid the strike, bringing out your chakram in time to absorb the brunt of the blow.

You grit your teeth and push through the pain to continue countering him. You summoned another set of chakram, covered with Dendro energy, spinning wildly around you. Slashing at the Anubis every time he gets near, eliciting a pained grunt of pain from the man. 

"This is getting tedious," the general says, with a tinge of pain laced in his voice, "Perhaps we should end this little game."

As if on cue, a thunderous roar resounded, and the general's whole figure engulfs in a dark trance. Morphing himself into Pactsworn Pathclearer. You spin around and catch him striking his electrifying claws against your weapon. Blocking him off rapidly.

"Nice try, general," you grumble. "You aren't the only one who has a trick up their sleeve."

An unexpected quake shook your form just as you were about to morph into an augmented state. You landed on your bum on the sandy texture. A child's cry can be heard echoing from a mountain cliff above you. 

Looking up from the commotion, you spotted a floating child with stars radiating from her, and a medium-height figure standing beside the child. A golden amber glows from their chest. A geo-fragmented power emanating from them. A solid gaze upon your figure.

"CYNOOOOO! We found the smugglers who smuggling the canned knowledge, they are tons of 'em!"

With an annoyed look at the ear-shrilling voice, your ears perked up at the sound of the general's pleased hum, who was now deactivating his Anubis form. Dark and voltaic particles fizzle around him, then dissipate.

"It seems this is where we part ways."

He said this as he walked away, not even looking back at you. Not until he spoke. "I'll make certain that your client fully compensates you for your time and effort."

𝐈𝐈.

Confused and amused, you watch the illustrious Traveller and their floating companion Paimon, who once interrupted your fight with General Mahamatra, flinging a pouch of mora in front of you, golden coins slipping through the bag as it did so. You frowned upon it and suspiciously eyed the two guests.

You originally took a stroll through the sea of sand despite the harsh condition of the environment, nevertheless, it was home.

A place where the wind blows gently over your skin, a warm embrace that allows no worries and gives you rest, an island where you will never feel lonely but always found friends...it was a place like no other, yet it was filled with danger and darkness. The air felt thick. The atmosphere seemed oppressive. 

Your arms are crossed as you lean back in your chair. You spoke in an unsettling tone. "I may grant you permission to speak, but first, what is your purpose in meeting me?" you had inquired.

It's not like you weren't friendly or anything, you're just curious. A distant traveler traversing alone in this strange land of sand is nothing but trouble and trouble has always been on your radar lately. 

Paimon, who's ever so chatty, came forward leaving a trail of twinkling stars and constellations in her wake. 

"I and the traveler were advised by a friend of ours to seek you when things get...complicated." She paused for a bit. "According to our friend of ours, you know the land better than anyone else there."  

Your gaze hardened a slight. "And this friend of yours, do I acquainted with them?"

The platinum-haired child spluttered through her words. Her tiny hands settled on her head as if she was contemplating an unsolvable puzzle. 

"U-Uh...I-uh...Probably?"

Sighing, leaned back into your chair again. Swirling emotions racking your mind, you rarely don't know how to respond to these sorts of occasions. Usually, your client just drops the mora on your feet and orders you to do whatever the heck you will be going. 

But this case was different, a warm smile graced both of your guests' lips, kindly assisting them with the heck they were doing. Coughing up in feigning irritation, you said.

"Since you paid generously, I suppose I can indulge you until the time is up. What's the situation, boss?"

The traveler and Paimon both smiled at your response but did not respond right away. They exchanged a glance before taking turns explaining the situation. In short, the Akademiya tasked them with obtaining three Pseudo-Stamens from the creature known as "Setekh Wenut" for experimental purposes.

They were initially escorted by the General himself, but due to his heavy workload, he receded back to his responsibilities and somehow remembered about you from his previous battle and decided to indirectly task you with guarding them throughout their journey across the vast territory just to fetch some drops for them.

Agreed to their invitation, you told them to ready themselves before heading out to the Desert of Hadramaveth. The journey will be long and arduous. Their destination was unknown to you since you've never ventured there personally. The two travelers were quite eager and excited to try something new.

They had no idea about the dangers hidden in the sands and the many beasts lurking deep inside the depths waiting for unsuspecting travelers.

⏤🥀⏤

A myriad of screams was heard through the dark tunnel and you are certain that it wasn't coming from the traveler or Paimon. Alerting the duo you sprinted through the darkness, and a sudden bright light nearly blinded you. 

As you blink the brightness away you see the traveler struggling to hold their hands above the blinding white light. But the most shocking thing about the aftermath of the light was a horde of Corps of Thirty were fending themselves from a huge mystical beast that radiates Anemo energy.

Among those soldiers was none other than General Mahamatra, probably assisting those who were too far away to come back home. His eyes were narrowed into slits as he faced off against an approaching beast, but his movements became sluggish and slower with each passing second.

Teleported to his coordination, you two blinked away before the Wenut drills out of the ground below the Mahamatra's feet. The General was surprised by this but grateful for your timely assistance.

"Good to see you again, general. I was hoping our second encounter was just you and me, but then again, fate is a fickle thing." You remarked, catching him by the arm and wrapping it around your neck for support. 

The male beside you grunted in response. He used his staff to aid him with his walks for a bit. 

"I appreciate you lightening up the situation, however, now isn't the time. I heard from the reports that a Scholar from the Vahumana sector that gone missing for two days, and apparently this creature was the one who was captive that said, scholar." 

A small quake rumbled below you, shaking the ground underneath your feet. The serpent-like creature resurfaced and exposed its tail, sweeping the arena with countless streams of bullets made out of Anemo energy. 

Evading all those attacks could drain your stamina pretty quickly, especially when it came to using teleportation. "We're going to need more than this if we're going to get out of this alive," you grumbled under your breath. "Do you have anything else?" You asked, glancing over at him. 

Cyno heavily sighed, seeing your slightly staggered state. "If my men can't handle it, what makes you think we'll be able to stand up to this thing?" He replied. 

"What makes you think we have to defeat this thing? We just have paralyzed this creature and rescued this scholar." You countered. 

"Why fight against this creature that can make bullets that are infused with Anemo energy? You'd only make yourselves look even more foolish." You added with a frown.

"You seem so confident," he replied in a hushed tone as the creature suspends itself in midair and conjures five Anemo spherical bullets. In a blink of an eye, Cyno had shaken off from your grasp and dashed forward to destroy those orbs using his spear to pierce through, which are successfully destroyed.

Giving it a paralyzing state, its whole body slammed upon the ground. Lying there as if it was lifeless, you summoned two sets of your chakram and hurl them toward the body, giving a wave of a hit. With the colliding elements of remains of electro and dendro, it gave the quickened effects, which gives off a great deal of damage. 

Acknowledge this reaction, you and Cyno keep repeating the same movements till the creature's carcass dissipates into flecks of cessation.

A large sigh escapes both of your lips after your last strike, and your muscles were feeling weak. The exhaustion was evident in the way you were leaning to the chakram you were holding and the way you breathed out as if you were taking in a big dose of oxygen. 

And yet, somehow, despite all these symptoms, there was still some life left to you that wasn't completely consumed by fatigue and exhaustion.

"Are you alright...[Name]?" The General questioned, watching you carefully. 

"I go by the name of my current alias, but, how did you know my name?" You ask, slowly standing up straight once you felt your bones would stop quivering. Even though the adrenaline hasn't quite settled down yet, the shock has faded. You still feel tired, but a little more rested.

Your name was long forgotten to the sand of times, and no longer was it worth remembering. It's just another nickname the people gave to you. But it never failed to give you comfort in moments like this, where your body would tremble with exhaustion and fear.

His smile faltered a little at your question before he answered with, "It's a long story."

𝐈𝐈𝐈.

After the Setekh Wenut incident, General Cyno and the rest of the Corps of Thirty returned to the Caravan Ribat for a brief respite, along with the unconscious missing scholar, who apparently was stupid enough not to bring someone like a mercenary to accompany them on their expedition.

The traveler and Paimon had already obtained what they required and were teleported back to the capital to collect their compensations. They said they need these "Primos" to wish upon a star, which you were confused by the concept but didn't fully engrossed by it and rather wanted to retreat back to your home with the rest of your comrades.

Not long ago, the white-haired general paid you a visit in the late hours of the night, and you were basking in the comfort of an oasis, its brine reflecting the starry skies above it, bathing you in its golden glow. 

The moon shines down on this nirvana, and the stars dance around the light falling from the sky.

A gentle breeze blows from behind you, gently caressing your neck and hair that flows over your shoulder, giving you a more comfortable feeling. The grass and trees encircle you, the air is cool and moist and smells pleasant, and there is no one else here except you and the silent presence you've grown accustomed to. 

When you open your eyes, you see the general had removed his headdress and placed it on a rock beside you, along with a white bandage on your cheek.

"Do you still feel drained from the events?" he asks, his voice low, almost whispering. You don't respond and instead stare into his carmine eyes.

It's an unusual sight, but in a pleasant way. The moonlight makes the general's skin shine beautifully like a sublime statue of a god. You think to yourself, he's a really interesting person. You tell yourself again and again, trying to calm the fluttering butterflies in your stomach.

A wave of familiarity washes over you, as if you'd seen this man somewhere before but honestly don't remember where. Something about him drew you towards him and kept drawing you closer to him until you found yourself sitting under the gentle breezes of the night, watching the stars slowly twinkle above you.

⏤🥀⏤

Several curious stares follow you and Cyno as you converse in front of a house. Your stern gaze can make anyone quicker in fear, but not the General Mahamatra. He stared at you unamused and unfazed by your glare, which he thought of it as adorable. But that's not the point of the scene, currently, he was scolding you. 

You pouted as you realized he was unbothered by your provocations.

Arms crossed, you shut your mouth before a bolt of lightning could bellow at you. 

"[Name], what is one thing I told you not to do?"  The General asked with no mercy. It wasn't a question, more like an order. 

You gulped. "...burn the house down?"

He sighed heavily, a fleck of disappointment lingering in his eyes. "And what did you do?"

"Made our dinner? You said you wanted a feast tonight. This should be enough to celebrate." You said as if you didn’t burn down half of the town. Not even your best efforts could stop this from happening anyway.

The General looked at you skeptically. "Did you think I'd be happy eating something burnt to a crisp?"

ˢᵖⁱʳⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ: The ending has updated⏤