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blkkizzat · 7 months ago

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THEIR PIERCINGS?!? THE TATTOOS!?!? Urgh Choso blushing when reader knew how good of a brother he was?? The way suguru COLLARED US!?!? THE DOUBLE PEN!?!? How reader was able to just walk out of there and not limp, she a champ fr!!!

This healed the headache ive had all morning istg cause now my coochie aching

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐇! | suguru getō + chōsō kamo

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Winning a V.I.P. meet-and-greet with your favorite alternative metal band members of all time has you over the moon! But what happens if the duo rewards you for being such a loyal supporter?!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: metal duo! Geto + Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; sex backstage of a concert - you are sugucho's #1 fan - kissing/making out - light BDSM + use of an O ring choker & leash + light choking - oral (m! + f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play + boob-job - heavy depictions of a blowjob - orgasm denial - threesome - double penetration; anal & vaginal - table + cowgirl/backshots dp positions - praises - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, good girl, pretty girl, sweetheart, sweetie) - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - cameos: Nobara, Miwa and Momo - mention of blood, spit and tears - not proofread; will do l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.2k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask!! we back at it with the rare threesomes, this time with the dark-haired emos, hehe. hope you enjoy this one, i had fun writing it, & tysm for 9.6k, you rockstarssss!! —☆

“AAAAAAAAAAAA—“

“AAAAAAAI’MSOEXCITEDAAAAA—“

“AAAAAAAWE’RESOHAPPYFORYOUAAAAA—“

There was no way you could contain your excitement—particularly tonight!

The best language in the world is, without a doubt, music. It’s the most prominent universal plane that transcends the dimensions of expression, expounded upon through various genres and artistic styles, constructing melodies and rhythms for entertainment. There are multiple reasons why people love music: it helps put people in the zone, is the perfect substitute for silence, refreshes the mind and soul, serves as an emotional outlet, and so on.

To say you love music is an understatement; music is your life! You can’t eat, sleep, or breathe in this life without it, or else your life would be a lot more miserable and dull than what it is right now. Music is in your veins; it gives you the boost you need.

Especially when it’s your favorite genre: alternative metal!

When it comes to this type of music, some people would look at you and give you the most questioning looks simply because of the word “metal” associated with it. Nevertheless, you couldn’t care less about their prejudice because they don’t understand your connection with it. They weren’t there when your first ever album for your birthday was Linkin Park’s Meteora, when you’d listen to Ill Niño while studying for AP tests during high school, singing Deftones lyrics during karaoke with your friends, or sing along to the lyrics to “Word Up” by Korn with your family listening while going on family road trips.

To you, alternative metal was engraved into your very being, so who cares what others think otherwise? Especially right now!!

Today will go down to be one of the best moments in your life. Why? For one, it was now the beginning of summer. You could finally hang out with your best friends – Nobara, Miwa, and Momo –to your heart’s content, with no college assignments getting in the way and done graduating! Two, because you four were so deep with college stuff and barely had time to form a voice call, your three friends pitched in together to get tickets to a band to celebrate your graduation. How sweet of them! And lastly, this was just no ordinary band, oh no, no, no. That would undermine their significance to you…for they were your all-time favorite alternative metal duo!

Curses and Death Paintings, composed of two members, Suguru Getō and Chōsō Kamo, was a band you’ve been a loyal follower of throughout high school and college life. It started when you unexpectedly met the duo at a pub with your family, a local band performing live, and your eyes were glued to them the moment you saw them. From there, you immediately followed their socials and listened to their discography, going to that pub whenever they’d announce to perform and support them through and through. They were the first band you saw grow and grow throughout the years, attending their shows and liking and sharing their posts—heck, you even had the courage to reply to their Instagram stories. And they would actually respond back!! You had every right to be brown-nosed about them since you were loyal to them from the ground up, and you were happy to see their recognition and popularity climb to the public eye.

However, the worst thing about watching your local favorite grow popular with time is seeing their reach go farther and farther — especially when you’re stuck in your dorms on campus! Let’s be honest; you were a broke college student, and senior year was kicking your ass harder than it ever did. The moment you saw the tour announcement and the ticket prices, there was no way you’d see them this year; it was disheartening knowing that you wouldn’t see your duo this time.

But as mentioned before, your friends came in clutch. They surprised you at your graduation party with premium front-row tickets to the Curses and Death Paintings show in the nearest city stadium, which was undoubtedly the greatest gift you received! You were in tears, even at the concert!

Holy fuck, it was fantastic to see such a massive fanbase for your favorite band come together and scream and sing along to the lyrics; you took so many videos of you singing with the girls with an enthusiastic glow. Speaking of photos, the fact that you were in the front row was hard to grasp as it’s been such a long time since you saw Geto and Choso up close; you nearly lost your breath whenever they walked close to you on stage or snuck glances your way—Nobara could’ve sworn you died and came back, especially when Geto walked right up to you and grabbed your phone to take a pic and hand it back.

But the cherry on top was at the very last act of the show, where a lucky person would win a thirty minute V.I.P. meet-and-greet with the duo. After getting your tickets reviewed at the front, every premium ticket owner would be given red, numbered tickets for this exact reason, and the lucky number would be showcased at the show’s last moments. And guess whose number was called up? Needless to say, you fainted on the spot, almost busting your head to the concrete floor without Momo and Miwa catching you.

I can’t believe it! Not only were you the person who was called in your city out of all the thousand people who came here, but you were also getting to meet Choso and Geto, one of your all-time favorite musical artists—this was meant to be!

And now, you are geeking to your best friends on the phone after being pulled aside and led backstage by the security guards. You haven’t met them yet, but you can feel your body shake with starstruck and awe, wiping tears still coming down. “Guys, please, I’m too excited. I can barely keep it together!”

“That’s completely normal, dude, don’t worry!” Miwa’s face pops on the screen of Nobara’s phone, her blue hair in space buns held by spiky hair ties. “If anyone deserves to be in that meet-and-greet, it must be you. This is literally destiny!” She beams and screams with you.

Your smile grows, and you begin calming down as you speak. “Yooo, this is so insane…What if I get like merch to bring?” You gasped. “What if I get SIGNED shit?!?!”

“If you do, whatever Choso gives comes straight to me!” It was Momo’s turn with the phone; a red makeshift mark across her face contrasts with her skin and blonde hair.

“Hell no, get in line, girl! Better luck next time when they call your number,” you hard when the short girl calls you a bitch in giggles. You then see the phone passed to the owner, Nobara, cheesing with the biggest grin. She also has a rad mark from cheek to cheek, but she puts more effort into her eye makeup.

“We’re so happy for you, Y/n,” the brunette says to you, the other two coming from either side to see you. “But stay safe and don’t let their handsome faces get to you too much; if anything happens, I’m kicking balls, ya hear me?”

Nodding to her words, you salute. “Loud and clear!” Then, you see a security guard come to you, a signal that you need to be ushered. “Okay, guys, I gotta go. But I love you and see you after, okay, byeee!!”

The three wave and scream farewell before you end the call and stuff your phone into your small purse, following the security guard five doors down and making a left.

You’re giddy with every step, and your smile refuses to wipe away. It’s happening, it’s happening! You were finally seeing your favorites after all these years, face-to-face, so up and close! Nothing can top this moment at all, probably ending up to be the greatest day of your life!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“They should be here momentarily,” the security guard opens the door. “Just sit or stand here and wait for them.”

“Okay.” You nod and stride right in; the door closes behind you, the sound of the footsteps drawing away, leaving you in a coat of anticipation.

Like a kid in a candy store, you scan around the area. You were now moved to a backstage suite that looked like a dressing and rehearsal room, with bass guitars and a drum set in one corner. There was a coffee table for water and cups in front of a low, comfy couch. To your left was the desk with a vanity mirror, black and gray makeup out, and was used by people before. Duffle bags full of clothes and towels were by you as you walked down, and the space smelt so delightful; it must be the cologne they put on before going on stage…

Your lips quiver as you sink into the couch, your purse resting on your lap. The room is filled with the faint echoes of laughter and conversation, a reminder of the bustling activity just beyond the door. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one vying for your attention. The silence, broken only by these distant sounds, is deafening, amplifying the sense of solitude and heightening your awareness of the impending moment.

I can’t believe it. You clutched the long strap of your purse, your eyes unable to stay still as you picked up every detail of the room. The tour poster that showed the duo so cooly on the door, the gray plaid blanket next to you entailing someone must’ve taken a nap, and the magazines on the table you’ve seen in grocery stores that exhibited the two. You pick one up to examine, and your heart beats faster.

Choso, the dark brown-haired one with a mark across his cheeks and baggy eyes, shoves a middle finger at the camera, his hand tatted with the letters of “death” above each knuckle. His ear piercings shine from the lights, like his chocolate eyes, as if they’re piercing you through the cover. The other, Geto, had his left arm slouched around his companion, shoving his right middle finger with a tooth-shining grin and a wink. His slender fingers were tattooed with the word “curse,” decorated with silver rings that match his chains and piercings, and part of his dragon arm tattoo is shown. The side handle of the magazine is titled “Bring the Curse and Blood: Duo of the Year Taking this Summer by Storm.”

A sense of pride bubbled in your stomach, getting a little emotional. You can’t help but think how crazy it is to see these same guys who used to do live shows at a local family restaurant and make little concerts in your town now become big superstars. It’s such a whirlwind to sit and comprehend now, knowing that you’ve been following these two for the longest time and have seen their growth from day one. You still have the picture of the last big show you saw them with; the premium tickets then allowed you and your best friends to take a photo with the duo after the show, the six of you doing piece signs with big smiles. The Polaroid is in a frame on your desk at home, titled “BESTIES + C&DP 2022!” and has lip marks and drawn skulls and hearts all around.

Maybe Miwa is right; no one in this stadium or city deserves to see these two in the same space as you. It’s not like you expected it to be you anyway, sure that there would be other chances. But for it to be you, their biggest fan in the entire world, to be the one to win the lottery?! You squealed into the magazine cover. This really is destiny!

“Excuse me?”

And there goes your destiny, making your heart jump to your throat! You were too deep in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed the sound of the door opening, and in comes a man who has your breath hitched, and you’re too entranced to take a breath so suddenly.

The man with his hair pulled to his notorious pig-tailed hairstyle, wiping his face with a white towel. You noticed he hasn’t wearing the darkish-grey tee he wore on stage; the clothing held in his hands. He wore his white wife-beater that showcased his lean yet beefy arms so attractively, and your eyes trailed down from his exposed collarbone to his tightened torso. Baggy jeans with chains to complete the look and dirty Converse shoes that he removed and kicked by his bag. It’s Choso Kamo! “You’re the person who won the meet-and-greet, right?”

“Y-Yes!” You squeaked, facepalming internally; fucking lame! Spit swallowed, watching the guy take a seat by the makeup desk.

“Sorry for the wait,” he wipes his forehead. “Suguru’s busy talking with the manager about something quick, so he should be here in a minute.”

Suguru? He refers to him by his first name now; how cute! “Oh, sure…”

Then there is silence as you wait, an uncomfortable one you expected. You knew Choso wasn’t the more lively of the two, always the calm-sounded one who likes to be in the corner. And you can see that as he sits a bit away from you, checking his nails. You find it oddly adorable, honestly.

Regardless, you only have a limited time to be with these two, and the seconds turn into minutes quickly. Think, me, think! What can I do to stir up some conversation with him? Peripherals scan his figure; maybe something about him would be a good idea to discuss. And then you saw it: his left shoulder harboring a tattoo. Bingo!

“Excuse me,” he straightens up at your voice. You point to his shoulder, “Is that the one you got colored recently? I remember from the stories long back that you only had the outline done.”

He looks at what you’re talking about. “Uhh, yeah, I got it done months ago.”

“May I see?” You crossed your fingers imaginatively and sang joyfully in your heart when the man got up and walked to where you sat, a tiny smile in victory when he sat at your right side. Now that he’s proximate, you can see his piercings exceptionally well, his helix, orbital, lobe pierced, and the tragus that matched his right ear. But that wasn’t the point; you don’t want to be caught overlooking, so you gaze at the subject at hand: his left shoulder tattoo, a black spirit that appears to be incarcerated within a tube. “Is this the ‘death painting’ one?”

“Yeah, it’s the one I have wanted to have done since high school.” Now that he’s talking about himself, he’s become comfortable sharing with you. Score! “I have similar ones with my younger brothers, but not the youngest; he’s still kinda young to get—“

“You mean Yuuji?” You hadn’t realized you spoke out of turn until the brunette looked at you with puzzlement. “I-I mean, you talk about your brothers all the time, but I kind of know of Yuuji the most.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, he’s three grades below me; he joined my high school in my senior year!” Don’t make it sound weird, don’t make it sound weird, don’t— “From what I’ve heard when I come down to town, he’s quite the athletic star! I think I heard he’s a literal track star and not too bad at baseball.” Shit, did that come out weird? You can’t tell because all you’re doing is letting out all you know and observing Choso’s face relaxing. And your heart skips a bit at the twinge of his lips.

He chuckled, “Yeah, I’ve heard he’s doing well…He just graduated recently, excited to head to college and all that jazz.” Choso rests his head back and sighs. “I couldn’t make it to the graduation, but he said if I bring back some souvenirs and see him after his concert, I’m forgiven.”

You giggled behind a hand. “You’re quite the older brother, huh? Looking out for the others must be so reliable.”

“Yeah…I guess so,” was it the lighting, or was there a shade of pink creeping up on his pale ears? You couldn’t tell.

“Maybe his graduation gift could be that tattoo?” You inquired, chin pointing to his shoulder again. “Just an idea.”

He hums while looking at the body design and then puts his shirt back on, noticing the gothic-style bracelets. Thank God, it was getting hard to avoid his arms. Choso looks at you and says, “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” you see yourself nearly being lost in his brown orbs, the purple eyeshadow too alluring.

KA-CHAA!

“Yo, Choso, sorry ‘bout leaving you here with—“ Another voice enters the space with the sound of the door opening, and you’re finally met with the other person to complete the duo.

The other man – Suguru Geto – came into the room, a towel in one hand and a water bottle in the other. A black tank top appeared a bit loose, paired with black harem pants that were low and free with his movements—the outfit he wore on stage. His dragon tattoo is fully revealed to your eyes, from his right wrist to the top of his shoulder. Silver rings shine on his fingers, adorned with his left wrist’s wooden and leather bracelets. A hair tie and white headband neatly pushed back his spiky, raven hair, yet bangs came down to sling over his left eye. And yes, you’re taking every detail to ensure you’re not looking at his sinewy arms…

“G-Geto!” You didn’t mean to say; it slipped out!

“That would be me, yes,” his mellow voice sounded surreal to hear up so near as he walked to where you two were sitting. Then, he pauses and tilts his head. “Wait…Have we met before?”

You perked. “Yes! I took a picture with you guys like two years ago with my girlfriends!”

“Ohhh yeahhh!” You can see the cogs of his brain work, the realization hitting him as he sits to your left after telling him your name. “I remember you. Aren’t you on Instagram who replies to our stories?”

“Yes, that’s me!!”

“Don’t you live around here, like a local?”

You nodded your head with super speed. “Mhmm, all my life!”

“Oh wow,” Choso says from behind. “You must have heard of us a lot then.”

Have I?! “Uhh, I’ve been listening to you guys, legit your biggest fan out there. I literally saw you at the very first show in the little family restaurant on the street downtown!”

Brown eyebrows raise. “You’re joking.”

“Never that.” Stone cold face, dead serious.

“What did I usually eat there?” You turn to Geto, so taken aback by his handsome face and nasallang piercing that you nearly miss his smirk. “Can’t say you’re our biggest fan and not expect a quiz.”

A challenge you took with a high chin and smile. “You would order a side of mozzarella sticks to eat when you’re done performing because you like how nice and gooey the cheese is. But if you are really hungry, you’ll get soba noodles with beer and soup dumplings to share with Choso. Who, by the way,” you poke at the mentioned other who flinches. “You don’t usually eat anything, drinking water as you perform. But you don’t mind occasionally treating yourself to the place’s root beer float or some ramen if Geto’s eating.”

Were you proud of yourself? Of course, you were. How could you not be when the men looking at you gawked with bemusement? When your support was questioned, you had to deliver your stuff with a huff. The confidence shown in your pupils as you peered to Geto, “Any other questions?”

He blinks, and the smirk gets broader. “Plenty.”

And that’s how you were able to ease the boys into chatting with you. Before you knew it, you felt so laid back and relaxed, talking to the men about yourself and how much love you have for their music and the genre as a whole. And it fills you with glee seeing the two do the same, sharing bits of themselves that go beyond the fan-asked questions or the interviews. For example, you had known that Geto was best friends with the acclaimed actor Satoru Gojo, but you hadn’t known that they were friends with model and actress Utahime, who despises Gojo after a prank he pulled on her fourteenth birthday?! Oh my. And then, apparently, Choso knows about your friend Nobara as well?!? The girl is in the same year as Yuuji, and the two were best buddies throughout their high school years—damn, what a small world.

It was such a magical moment for you to finally talk with the two favorite men in your life and learn bits and pieces of themselves you never thought you’d imagine yourself hearing. Winning this meet-and-greet was indeed such a blessing, something you’ll never take for granted and a memory you will store in your heart forever and ever until the end of time. I can finally die happy now~~!

But alas, all good things must come to an end, hence why you’re not surprised to hear a knock on the door from their manager, Yaga. “Thirty minutes�� up,” the man behind the wooden frame says. “Sorry, miss, but these two got a long meet-up they must be at right after.”

“Okay,” you shout in confirmation. “This was more than fun, guys; I’ll never forget it. Please have fun and enjoy the rest of your tour,” you begin to check your bag and stand to excuse yourself—

“Hold on,” only for you to be stopped by Geto’s hand on your right shoulder. “I got this…Hey, Yaga, mind if we get another thirty minutes?”

Huh!? “What?! What’s the hold-up? Is everything okay??”

“Yeah, nothing too bad; it’s just that Miss Y/n here wanted to try playing with Choso’s drums, and, well….they kinda broke the snare.” Your jaw dropped; I did what!?

“They did what??!!” Yaga, equally as baffled, opens the door ajar. “Isn’t that expensive? Do you guys need—“

“Nah, it’s fine; Choso’s helping them out since he had an extra, just in case.” Geto punches his bandmate in the shoulder; Choso is just as confused as you and his manager.

“Y-Yeah, don’t worry about it, Yaga,” Choso comes in with the assist. “Y/n and I are just switching the old snare with the new one, but it’ll take a bit, so… another thirty minutes is alright?”

Seconds go by where no one says anything, the anxiousness pushing you to lend to Geto’s ear to whisper. “It’s okay if I go; I don’t wanna be in the way of you two and—“

“Shh, it’s fine,” he shushes you with a finger to your lips, purple eyes still on the door to see the decision.

“…Fine then, another thirty minutes.” The older man says the final word. “But don’t go breaking more shit, understand? Money doesn’t grow on trees.” And with that, Yaga closes the door, and his heavy footsteps wander down the hall. Geto then gets up, marches to lock the door, and returns to sit beside you.

Choso is the first to question. “So, wanna tell me why I was pulled into a lie, Geto?”

“Hmm?” Black eyebrows rise. “Why do you ask? Aren’t you enjoying our new company? I’m not ready to mingle with a group of people yet,” his hand reverts to your shoulder. “I’m way too comfortable just to let the fun end suddenly.”

Your heart skips. “Uh-Uhh, I’m totally fine with going. I don’t wanna overstay my welcome.”

“Who said you were overstaying? Besides, we have already extended your stay,” his forefinger doing circles on the shoulder of your black and grey crochet crop sweater. “So let’s enjoy ourselves for a bit, ‘kay?”

You blink once, slowly. “Geto, I don’t the—“

“You look cute.”

You hadn’t expected such a compliment to fly out and turn you to stone, his words ringing around your eardrums into your mind. “R..Really?” Your stare goes down to your outfit, something you had put much thought into coming into this concert. Along with the sweater was a black sleeveless top, a black skirt with many silver chains, garters that connect to your thigh highs, and platform boots to finish it up. Even your ears had upside-down crosses with a red gem, and then there was your—…Wait…Wait, oh no! “It broke!”

“What broke?” Choso gets closer to see. “Your collar?”

“Yeah, it’s an O-ring collar, but the ring must’ve fallen out somehow!” You’re scanning the room, trying to find the metal. Choso stands up with the taller other, but they can’t locate the lost item.

“Must’ve been lost back in the arena,” Geto says before heading to his duffel bag, rummaging through its contents before standing back up and walking back to you. “Take that off,” he points to your broken collar, watching you listen and loosen the leather off your neck. Once it’s withdrawn, the black-haired man has you turn for him to put something around your neck to substitute. “Here, look.”

While wondering what he did, you turn to him as he brings up his phone to pull up the camera app and point it in your direction. A new item on your neck catches your attention, a hand finding the O-ring to touch the cold steel. “Are you…giving this to me?”

“Yup; it used to be Choso’s, but said it didn’t look good on him, so I wore it until I was gifted a new one.” Geto’s finger comes up to loop around the ring. “You can have it—looks pretty on you.”

Your cheeks warm at the gesture: a gift given to you by your favorite alternative metal duo? This day couldn’t get any better. “Thank you so much,” you didn’t realize how nearby Geto’s face was until he drew in a couple of centimeters closer, and your breathing came to a standstill. “…Geto.”

“Aww, no need for the formalities. We have just gotten a little closer today,” he tugs on the collar just a bit, your nose neighboring his. “You can say my name; shouldn’t my biggest fan know it?”

You chew on your lips, your eyelids subconsciously shielding your vision when he does the same. “Sugu..ru,” it leaves in a whisper.

“Good girl,” you yelp at the feel of his lips on yours, the softness quickly pulling you in. There’s no way that this was happening…except that it was. You were kissing Suguru Geto alone in a room with Choso right behind you backstage at a stadium after a concert.

Your conscience immediately snaps you awake, pulling yourself away from his mouth and covering your lips. “I-I’m sorry!” Oh, fucking shit, no way did I let him kiss me! That isn’t what you’re supposed to do in a meet-and-greet. Are you insane?!? “I shouldn’t have let that happen…!”

“Why are you apologizing? Wasn’t like I minded at all,” Geto’s hand comes and pulls you by the neck for him to place a kiss on your cheek suddenly, and the other snakes to touch your thigh.

Wait a minute! “W-Wait, please, I don’t think this is a good idea. You—“ You gulp as his fingers knead your inner thigh, sneaking his pinky into your thigh highs. “…You have somewhere to be later.”

“That’s not until the next twenty-five minutes, so I’m not too concerned.” A blow to your ear has your breath shaky. “And my bandmate here would also love to have you to himself. Isn’t that right, Choso?”

The one with the name is seen from your peripheral, brown eyes taking in the whole picture: his friend and peer with his hands all up and around their guest. “I..don’t think this is right, either. Isn’t this too out of left field?”

“Perhaps, but I don’t hear our baby over here saying they feel uncomfortable,” he kisses your neck and nibbles on the skin; your gasp makes Choso rigid to the sound. Geto then grabs the brown-haired one’s hand over and sneaks it inside your skirt, and your legs jolt at the contact of his fingers on your panties. “Why don’t you help around and treat our most loyal fan kindly?”

Choso swallows thickly when you moan at his fore and middle finger, slowly coming up and down on your panties, chewing his lip at the spot, becoming wetter and wetter with every stroke. And when you grab for his wrist, he stops. “Choso,” you said his name in a desperate whimper.

“Y-Yes?”

“Can you…” What you were about to say was going to have you cross a line you never thought possible in your wildest dreams. So many thoughts are rampant in your brain, and a battle between your morality and wanton desires is colliding together. And yet, you tell the other, “…Can you please kiss me?”

Of course, his eyes widened at your request, expecting him to shut you down. However, that doesn’t happen. Instead, he leans in ever so slowly, and you happily accept his lips onto yours, moaning louder as his fingers go faster and his tongue teases your bottom lip.

Geto observes with a snicker before sneaking his hand under your sweater to cop a feel and kiss your neck. “Now, this is a lot more interesting…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Hahhh, holy shit…This is too much…!”

“Mmmhh, damn, baby, where’ve ya been hiding these cute tits from me?”

Here, you realized that maybe locking the door was the greatest thing that Geto had done on his part. Because there is no way you’d want someone to stumble upon you and this inappropriate scene occurring before you.

The coffee tables were cleared up, and the glass container of water and the plastic cups were moved somewhere else to prioritize something of more importance. Or more like someone…

You lay on the table surface on your back, you low enough for the taller individuals to see you in your submissive state. Your platform boots were removed to the side, your wet panties rolled up and stuffed in Choso’s jean pocket. The man had his pig-tailed hairstyle changed, bringing his umber hair back to a man-bun so they didn’t get in the way of his craft: giving you head and patting your leaky cunt with his tongue. The feel of the wet muscle venturing around your area was utterly exhilarating, having you speak in shrills in front of Geto.

Speaking of whom, the onyx-haired one was now straddling your chest without his pants and boxers, his cock free and out for you to see in all its glory. Or rather see him bring your top down for his dick to come in between your breasts and motion it to and fro between your mounds. It was a sight you had no idea how to fully comprehend, so raunchy for your eyes that you instantly went dizzy from the sounds of skin slapping being so incredibly intimate.

The thrusts of his hips were going at a moderate pace–not too hard–because of the worry that the table might give way and fall with this tall man on top of you. So, cautiously, Geto moves in consideration of his weight on top of you while ensuring you’re feeling good—his grabby hands fondling your tits and tweezing your nipples with a tease.

“Ohhhh, mmmph…!” You throw your head back when Choso slurps up your labia, taking all the slickness that coats your folds. “Ahhaaa, Ch-Chosoo, you’re tongue, it’s—Dahhaaa!!” Your thighs jerk at the suck of your clitoris, eyes screwing shut.

“Aww, sweetheart feeling too good from Choso…? Fuck, these tits are the best…” Gropes to your mounds have you hum, his fingers pushing them a bit together for the friction to be even more enjoyable. “Haaahh, yess…Ya hear that, Chocho? Sounds like you’re doing a good job down there…!”

The man between your legs only groans, his hands coming to your waist to bring you further down to his face. You silently howl at his tongue, swirling around the entrance of your vagina, biting your lip as he torments your nerves with the insertion. “Mmmfff, fuckin’ shit,” he curses before stuffing his tongue into you, your scent intoxicating his nostrils and fueling his drive to mess with you more. “You taste so good, sweetie…”

It all happens at once, having your vagina be fucked and battered by the spit of Choso’s tongue that mixes with your essence, along with Geto’s erotic display of his hot length meshing together with the heat of your soft chest. His cockhead poked out, touched, and covered by the top of your sweater, nearly beckoning you to remove the material to see it up close and kiss it.

But more laps around your clit have your hands shielding your mouth from shrieking. God, did Choso know how to work that tongue! You were barely keeping it together, shutting your eyelids so tightly that you could feel your orbs water from the tension. And it only worsens when his wet muscle solely focuses on your clit while he sneaks a finger inside your chasm to pet around your silky walls.

Oh, fucking shit! You can feel the climb, gripping the digit in anticipation and stead. You wail at the curve of the finger on your upper wall, eyebrows furrowing. “Ohhh, ohhmyGod, I’m gonna cum…!”

Or were you? “Now, hold on there, cutie.”

Geto gets up with his erection and stands by the table, his hand wrapped around what appears to be a leash that he yanks on. And your neck is then tugged in his direction, pulling your immersion onto him. “I already had you cum on my tongue minutes ago; I wouldn’t wanna share that experience with Choso.”

Choso removes his face from between your legs at the call of his name to glare at his friend. “Asshat.”

The so-called asshat shrugs with a sly smirk. “Ehhh, but don’t ya think it would be better to have our pretty girl here cum on your dick rather than your tongue?” He throws the leash at the other, who catches it. “Be right back; gotta get something.”

You watch Geto walk around the table and see that he heads to his duffle bag to retrieve something again. But you don’t know what because your collar is tugged on again! This time, Choso is the owner of the leash.

“Hey,” he says low. You don’t know why, but you licked your lips once you saw his pants were drawn down, his cock sprung out from his boxers, and precum glistened the glans. “Come suck me off, yeah?” Need he say more? Your frame moves on its own to slide closer to him and his solid limb.

You greet his cock with curiosity, your tongue meeting the crown and frenulum of his cock, lathering the skin and veins with your saliva to have him ready and wet. A hand strokes him off as your mouth prepares him before taking the glans into your mouth with a curved flick of your tongue. His cock is long and appealing, yet you don’t take in all of him, not wanting to choke.

His moans can be heard from above as you stuff your mouth with how much you can, sucking his dick with puffy cheeks and tongue nestled beneath. You continue to jerk his shaft as your head bobs up and down with an aroused hum. And your free hand finds his testicles, kneading his balls, which prompt the male to cry broken sobs.

“—Ahhhshiiiit, uhhggg…!” You can tell he’s feeling so good, a hand finding your head to place atop. He gazes down to see you lick the precum from his urethra and paint it around his cock before taking him back into your mouth. The image of his fluid frothing to your lips and forming a slight white ring has him in a clutch, especially when you peer up to him with hooded eyes. “Jesus, you’re so good at this.”

“Really? Damn, I wish I was you right now,” in comes Geto, back with the items he was looking for. He throws a wrapper at Choso, who almost doesn’t catch it. He hands the leash back to the taller, dark-haired one as he rips the wrapper open. “Come on, angel,” Geto pulls the leash. “Get on all fours for me, okay?”

You do as ordered, switching positions to stand on the table with your palms and knees. “Good girl,” Geto praises while opening a bottle to lather his hand with a clear substance. He throws the bottle to Choso and uses his dry hand to lift your skirt. “Stay still for me, okay?” A curt nod is given, and he goes ahead and places the lube around your slit and anus.

You jolt at the coldness of the liquid, yet you embrace the feeling as you’re aware that it’ll be necessary in minutes. His slender fingers writhing around your labia and inserting one into you as you gasp. But you were balling fists when he prepared your asshole next, the digits dancing around the foreign area before inserting them inside the puckered hole. “I know, sweetheart, but we don’t want to go hurting you or tear up some blood. Gotta be careful…”

Another nod sends the note of your cooperation, and wobbly breaths leave your lungs as your hole is stretched by the fingers fidgeting around.

“There we go, all lubed up nicely,” Geto coaxes. “Ready, Choso?”

“Yeah,” confirmed the other, removing his jeans and boxers to expose his legs fully as he lay on the couch, his cock now shielded with a condom. And Geto does the same, opening a wrapper of his own.

“Okay, baby,” Geto pats your shoulder. “Go ahead and mount him.”

You listen to him and finally get off the table surface, your knees stinging a bit until you maneuver to straddle on top of Choso; his lengthy cock is kind of intimidating to the eye — and the twitch of your pussy. Nevertheless, you breathe in and lift your pelvis until the tip of him meets your labia, and you gently push down to have his penis inserted inside.

Whining at the addition of him, you slowly but surely descend your hips downward until you meet the hilt. The sensation of your walls squeezing around him makes quivers travel up your shoulders. Using this moment to adjust to the foreign limb inside you, you steady your breathing before the next one is added.

This happens when Geto places his hands on your waist to massage you. “Bend for me, angel,” he coos, and you do so with your face drawing near Choso’s. Your heart runs laps from how adjacent you are to the two, so closely acquainted that it’s hard to believe.

Geto aligns his cock for the tip to meet your asshole; the lube applied earlier helped make the insertion easier to do. He gradually brings every inch of his girth into you, your wails more high-pitched from the stretch. Once he thinks he’s entirely inside, he begins to move.

However, you’re not sure if that was a good idea because once he moves, so does Choso. And–my God…–it is not an easy task to handle.

The two men go in a mutual rhythm, both of their cocks venturing inside you with every push and pull, scraping your insides in a manner your body cannot register at your own pace. The hits become ever so precise; grazes to your G-spot have you struggling to maintain your screams, and the stretch of your anus has your haze get more complicated to avoid.

The slow pace soon dials in speed, and at this point, you have to bite down on your lips not to let out a voice so others from outside can’t hear and ask what’s wrong.

“Nnmooh, hoooohmyGod, this is…!” Your hands grip on Choso’s shoulders as his cock scrapes your sweet spot once again. And when his hands come to your ass and bring you down, you choke at the poke of your cervix. “Gahaaahnn! Sh-Shtopp!! Not t’oo faaast…!”

“Shiiiit, sorry, cutie,” he kisses your cheek. “You just….Mmmph! Ff…Feel so damn good…”

“You’re right, I’m barely holding on here,” Geto agrees from behind, hands on your waist to keep the momentum going. “Fuuuck, this ass is so tight!” He throws his head back at the snug of your inner walls and sighs in bliss.

You, on the other hand, have the best worst end of the stick. Your ass and chasm are so busy that thinking straight is critically impossible. Your senses are so entranced and overwhelmed by the two men using you like a toy that you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk after this, eyes rolling at another jab of your cervix. And it doesn’t help that the others increase their pacing to an erratic cadence that makes your toes curl.

And then there’s the frequent rubs of your clitoris; every time Geto propels his dick into you, your clit rubs on Choso’s pelvis, grinding the delicate bud on his surface has you screaming and chewing on the brown-haired one’s shirt. The position creates an advantage for you, too; the more you lean forward, the better the angle for the cockheads of the two to dig at your inner channels to the point of incoherent babbles.

“Nnho–Oooh!” you choke out a sob, burying your face in Choso’s shoulders; his moans sound dreamy to the ear and have you twitching like crazy. “Too muuch..! T-This is insan—Nnngh!” The grind of Geto’s hips results in a silent scream. “J-JesusChrist! Pleaseee, can I please…!”

“Please, what?” Now, the dark-headed one speaks to you from behind, tugging on your leash again, making you yelp. “Speak properly, baby.”

“—Ahhck!! M-…May I please cum?” You looked over your shoulder at Geto as you sought permission, the leash owner chuckling at the submissive display.

He doesn’t say anything, though, letting the work of his pelvis and the flex of his abdomen leave the impression. More tugs to your collar have you crying like a baby until he lets go, and you accidentally land your forehead by Choso’s neck.

The brunette man subconsciously pats your head, soothing you as your orgasm climbs up. “It’s okay, angel,” he coos, a kiss to your temple. “Let it all out, ‘kay?” That much isn’t tricky to do when the plunges to your holes sync to a beat that furthers the trajectory of your orgasm. Your moans are slurred, your head becomes more clouded, and your figure prepares itself.

Your crescendo catches you hard, rocking your frame with shocks that creep up to your brain. Eyes widen from the jolts of your body as your cunt and asshole contract on the two limbs burrowed within, gripping Choso’s shirt to steady. Each jerk pairs with the tremble of your legs, nearly biting your tongue after another grind of your clit.

“—Haahh, shit…Good girl,” Choso brings your chin up, grazing the skin of your cheek with his calloused thumb. “Did so well,” he praises with a kiss to your lips, and you whimper at the contact as you accept his tongue with glee. His ruts increase, chasing his own peak like yours—Geto doing the same behind you.

“Yeaahhh, that’s it,” Geto exhales through his lips elatedly. “Still gotta few minutes left to finish, so keep still and let us make the most of them, okay, pretty girl?”

You voice no complaints, letting the rockstars do as promised with your body. There’s no doubt about it now—this is the best day of my life…!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Yo, where are they?”

“I know, right? It’s been way more than thirty minutes…”

“Hmm, I’m really starting to worry now,” Miwa and the girls, their gazes scanning the V.I.P. longue, stand at the exit. They were supposed to meet you here once the meet-and-greet session ended. Now, it’s been an hour since they last saw your face, their concern for you intensifying as they start to fear if something might have gone wrong. Not even listening to Bad Omens and scrolling through Instagram was helping their ease get any stabler.

“…I’ll call them,” the blue-haired girl claims as she pulls her phone out of her bag, the two other girls nodding and watching her hit your contact name and number before bringing the device to her ear.

Please answer, please answer, they chant in unison without knowing, crossing their fingers that they can hear your Bring Me the Horizon ringtone somewhere in there and hope that you’re safe, well, and on your way. Three pairs of eyes stay locked to the longue, hoping to see or hear anything familiar…

And like an angel to a prayer, they hear the jingle of “heavy metal” picked up from the crowd! But where were you?

“Hello?”

To their surprise, the girls jump in shock when they see you appear from behind rather than in front of them. You were safe and sound, all in one piece! They pull you in for a squealing hug, to which you join, completely uncaring for the weird looks you four get from fangirling.

“You!” Nobara pokes your chest. “Where have YOU been?! You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you apologize to the brunette and company. “I didn’t mean to scare you three.”

“Well, ya did!” Leave it to Momo to give you an earful. “I don’t care if we could’ve gotten kicked out or whatever; if we hadn’t heard your phone, we might’ve just waltzed in there and found you ourselves.”

“Again, my bad…I knew I was gonna be a little late getting you guys these,” you grab their attention with the swing of your arm, seeing your hand holding onto three bags. “But I’m sure these would’ve been worth the wait.”

Miwa tilts her head. “What’s those?”

“Close your eyes and pull out your hands,” they all give you a skeptical look. “Just do it!” They roll their eyes and close them, stretching their empty hands for you. After checking that their eyes were sewn shut, you pull out the bag’s contents and place an item in their respective owners’ hands. “Okay, you can open them now.”

They do as they’re told, and their jaws meet the floor. “A-Are–Are these the,” the short blonde girl can barely speak. “The Super V.I.P. pa-package deal bags?? With all the merch and–and the signed album??!!”

“Yup!” You beam as your friends rummage through their bags and pull out the contents to awe and stutter in excitement. “I got mine here as well, completely free of charge, as it took a while to get them. Pretty neat, huh? And I can’t let you guys leave all empty-handed, you know? I wouldn’t have been in this concert without you all making it possible!”

The girls pulled you in for another embrace, squeezing you to death with praises and cheers. “Thank you so much!!” They all jump for joy. “You’re the best!!”

“I know~,” you tease and hug back. “And guess what they gave me as a gift?” The three let go of you so you can point to your brand-new O-ring collar with a gleeful grin.

They gasp and parade around you. “Oh, you lucky bitch!” Nobara exclaims as you cackle in victory. “You know you gotta tell us all about the meet-and-greet session, right?”

“Sure,” you nod. “I don’t know about the whole thing, though; some stuff is better left unshared~.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Momo retorts. “You better give us all the deets, ya hear me?”

“Uhh, guys,” Miwa stirs the conversation to a different topic. “My mom just ordered us an Uber, and I think it’s around five minutes away from the stadium.”

“Ahh shit, so we better hurry out now!” The girls quickly stuff everything back into their bags and begin power walking to where they need to be picked up. Momo turns back to you, “Don’t fall behind; we’re not trying to leave the oldest baby here!”

“I’m coming!” You say through fast struts, ensuring you’re within the group’s perimeter.

However, knowing their attention is not on you anymore, you pull your purse around and pull out a note. Secret to your friends’ eyes, you sneak a chance to look and see what it says. Your heart skips with your steps, and your smile grows tenfold with the endearing words and two sets of phone numbers written on the paper…

To our biggest and most loyal fan,

It was nice having you all to ourselves a bit for the evening; hope this night won’t be the last night we ever get to see you. We know your IG, but have our numbers while you’re at it. Don’t be afraid to send a text or call when we’re in town. We’ll be here for the weekend, so how about mixing you in our schedule if ya want? ;3

See you around, enjoy the gifts, and let us know the next time you see us live!

Best,

C&DP

#y'alll i cant #i love sugucho #its a need now #almost as bad as choji #satosugu just got bumped down to 3rd poly in ranking cause sugucho eats tooo hard #��᭡•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мσσтѕ #ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ #•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ

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blkkizzat · 7 months ago

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Y'ALL I AM IN SHAMBLES!!! (@sairotonin tysm queen for showing me this!!!!)

Schleepy Bunny on twt posted gf art and im LOSING IT!! omfhfkash this is so ghostface choso! x sorority bimbo!reader coded from my kinktober fic ghostface!choso kinktober fic. omfg the wayyyyy. like you know this is how they be giving it up on campus/socials. making me wanna write a p3 sooner omfgggg.

Please go support that amazing artist!! they have IG & TikTok too!

#Schleepy Bunny art #ofjodfhkladshfadkls #loosing it #like fr tho #urgh i need to commission them now!!#•𐦍 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉тαℓк #•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ #❀ ྀིྀᡣ𐭩°𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉¢σяє #Choso kamo #ghostface!choso #choso x reader

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blkkizzat · 3 months ago

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Do you have any favourite writers in the whb fandomm

ahh so I am super bad about reading other fanfiction besides jjk (and tbh i write more than i read so im behind on that) however, I have read and do love my pookies @jazeswhbhaven whb fanfics! so please do check them out!

im sure there are lots of lovely authors i just havent discovered though!

#ೃ༝💌⁀➷ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мαιℓ #ೃ💌⁀➷𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉αησηѕ #whb #whb fanfic #•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ

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blkkizzat · 4 months ago

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waaaaiitt you’ll have to tell me ur thoughts on imbalance cause i love that series 😭

i haven't read it yet!! 😭😭 but i want to! I'll def reblog with thoughts when i do though i know @ayyy-pee brings the heat 💥

#ೃ༝💌⁀➷ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мαιℓ #•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ

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blkkizzat · 10 days ago

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this just healed my weary soul. 😩🩷 Ugh it’s absolutely magical want an amazing piece of writing can do. just drippin in talent pookies!

I was like tearing up like 5 paragraphs in cause why they can’t let them kids just play!?!?

Also them in the forrest?! Their relationship is so pure I can’t.

And the send off1/.1!?!? Im sobbing and the story just started.

WHEN CHOSO SAID "WHY ARE U TORTURING ME!?!?!" I WOULD HAVE JUMPED OUT OF THAT TUB ASS NAKED AND TACKLED HIM TO THE FLOOR.

THOSE LETTERS!?!? MY HEART, SOUL, MIND AND MOST OF ALL COOCHIE BELONGS TO WARRIOR SOLDIER CHOSO!!!

MY NEW FAV CHOSO FIC 🥹 🫶🏽 💖!!!

an imperial command a knight!choso fic

pairing ⸺ knight/warrior!choso x princess!reader

summary ⸺ you, the princess of the nation, and choso, the son of your father's most trusted general, have been inseperable since birth. but after many deem it inappropriate for him to be so close to you, the distance between you and him only deepens after he leaves for war. when he comes back older and a more handsome, bigger version of the choso of your childhood, you both grapple with love, duty, and test the bounds of propierty.

warnings ⸺ smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, reader has a vagina, classism? not really, reader may seem pushy at times, not edited, very sweet love confession, happy ending, fingering, breast worship, virgin reader, mutual loss of virginity, mentions of sexism and archaic beliefs about virginity, pathetic choso, soft dom choso, p i v sex, gentle choso :(, me being really horny about his HAPPY TRAIL

a/n it's something about a hot decorated warrior that crumbles at the thought of you...

general masterlist

You and Choso had been inseparable since birth.

As the princess of the realm and the son of the general—your father’s most trusted advisor and sworn brother—it seemed ordained by fate itself that you should become steadfast companions. And companions you were; as babes, you darted through the royal gardens, frolicked in the halls of the palace, and devised schemes to escape the ever-watchful eyes of your tutors. Only the constraints of your education would separate you. You were confined to lessons in the classical tongues, the harp, and courtly diplomacy, while Choso immersed himself in the arts of the sword, the strategies of war, and the unyielding discipline of a soldier.

“Choso!” you squealed, your laughter ringing through the royal gardens as you fled from an imagined dragon. You ran toward him, your skirts billowing behind you, and found him poised and ready. His knees were bent, his gaze unwavering, and his small wooden sword clutched tightly in his hands. He glared past you at the phantom threat with the solemnity of a true knight.

“I will save you, Your Highness!” he roared and lunged, hacking away at the demon passionately. You cheered him on, giggling at his act.

“You’ve done it!” you cheered, clapping your hands in delight. But then your eyes widened in feigned terror. “Look, another one approaches!”

Choso spun around at your warning, his attention diverted just as you had planned. Seizing the moment, you imagined the dreadful beast closing in on his unguarded back.

“Watch out!” you exclaimed, grabbing a fallen branch to defend him. With a bold leap, you placed yourself between Choso and the imagined peril, brandishing your twig as though it were a knight’s blade.

“I’ve got you!” you declared, laughing as you swung your newfound weapon, the pair of you lost in the unrestrained joy of childhood.

Of course, while the king, your father, appreciated you so closely acquainted with his general’s son, your mother did not seem to think it wise that you become estranged from the daughters of nobles; after all, you would need to forge relationships early on to strengthen your future court. This led to many a playdates being interrupted.

“You didn’t need to save me!” Choso whined, pouting while crossing his arms.

However, you held out a pudgy hand, patting his hair as if to soothe him. “It’s okay, Choso. If you ever need saving, I’ll always be there—” “YOUR HIGHNESS!” You heard footsteps running towards where the both of you were sitting idly. When parrying the imaginary monster’s attacks, you had tumbled on top of Choso, your dress and limbs entangled with his and both of your hair unruly. Hearing your governess’ voice led you to pout, for you were sure to earn a scolding for fooling around with Choso rather than practicing the violin for the nth time. Alas, you couldn’t escape her—as well as Choso’s nannies, who had appeared—and you both looked sheepishly at their horrified faces.

Frowning, Choso’s nanny stomped towards the both of you, untangling you both impatiently and, once you were both standing, giving Choso a light smack on his head while bowing towards you. “Your Highness, I apologize, but the both of you mustn’t do such things anymore. You both are far past the age that this is appropriate.”

“What?” You pouted, disappointed in having to back to your room, confined to practice your violin with those dreadful, boring tunes. “What isn’t appropriate about this? We’re just playing—”

“Your Highness,” your governess began, her strained smile barely masking her displeasure. “It is not fitting for a princess to engage in such… undignified behavior. You must remember your station. A young lady of your rank is expected to conduct herself with grace and decorum at all times.”

Choso’s nanny, now tidying his tousled hair with brisk, efficient motions, added in a sharper tone, “And you, young master, should remember your place. You are not her equal but her servant’s son. Such familiarity is unbecoming.”

At her words, Choso’s face turned pale, his gaze dropping to the ground. His hands clenched into small fists at his sides, but he said nothing, his lips pressed tightly together. You could see the effort it took him to remain still, his shoulders stiff with tension.

“Choso?” you called softly, tilting your head to catch his eye.

However, he did not look up, though his voice came, quiet and steady. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I… I won’t do it again.”

Your brows furrowed, your chest tightening at the sight of his downcast expression. “What are you apologizing for?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. “You’ve done nothing wrong! We were only playing.”

“Your Highness!” your governess interjected, her tone scandalized. “Such defiance is unbecoming. You must understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” you snapped, cutting her off. “I understand that I don’t care for these rules. Choso is my friend, and I decide what is and isn’t proper!”

Choso’s nanny inhaled sharply, but he quickly stepped forward, shaking his head fervently. “Please, Your Highness,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “Don’t… don’t say such things for me. I’ll… I’ll do as I’m told. I promise.”

“Choso!” you exclaim, betrayed as the sting of his words settling in your chest. His gaze still refused to meet yours, fixed instead on the ground between you.

Your governess, sensing her victory, straightened. “Your Highness, you must return to your chambers immediately. Your music tutor is waiting. And as for you, Master Choso, your training will resume at once. I trust there will be no further disruptions.”

Neither of you spoke as the governess and the nanny ushered you away in opposite directions, their sharp voices ringing in your ears. Yet, as you glanced over your shoulder, you caught one last fleeting glimpse of Choso, his hesitant gaze finally meeting yours for the briefest of moments. It held a quiet resolve that only deepened your frustration.

“Wait and see,” you muttered under your breath as you were dragged back toward your chambers. “I’ll change this someday.”

That was the last time he ever spoke your name aloud; now, you were only Your Highness and The Royal Princess. It irritated you to no end; you were his friend, not his superior. But he insisted, falling deeper and deeper into the depths of social proprietary and hierarchy his nannies and parents were no doubt pressuring him into. You could only take what you had; if he was refusing your affection, he would at least not refuse royal commands of rendezvous.

Years had gracefully unfolded since that day, and now, as teenagers, your clandestine meetings in the royal gardens had blossomed into cherished rituals beneath the cloak of night. The gardens, adorned with that glowed under the moon's gentle gaze, became the sanctuary where you and Choso could momentarily escape the rigid expectations of courtly life.

As you approached the secluded alcove near the ancient marble fountain, your heart fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement.

And there he was.

Choso waited beneath the willow tree, his dark eyes darting between the swaying branches and the dimly lit path beyond. The shadows stretched long in the garden, and the faint sound of patrolling guards put a furrow in his brow. He shifted on his feet, arms crossed tightly as though bracing himself for some reprimand.

When you finally appeared, dressed in your lighter night robes, he let out a small breath of relief. “Your Highness, you shouldn’t—”

“Can you stop that?” You whine, brushing him off and making a move to sit in the swing right by the tree. You lightly swing your feet, establishing a gentle rhythm while you grin mischievously at him, meeting your lighthearted eyes with his furrowed, slightly worried ones. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Choso. No one’s going to catch us.”

He can only shake his head, for after years of friendship had led him to know one universal truth: if there was one thing, it was that your mind, once resolute, could not be changed. “I don’t know how you keep wanting to risk them discovering this.” Then, he sighs, lamenting weakly, “and why I have to dragged into this.”

You flash him an innocent smile, about to give a cocky response about how you’re the princess and it’s not like Choso doesn’t want this…right? but both of you pause, deadly still, when you hear the undeniable clinks of armor.

Patrolling guards.

Choso’s head snapped toward the sound, his body going rigid. It kind of dazes you, in a way, how his curriculum as a warrior leads him to be so alert. It’s also this moment that you realize how grown you both are becoming; it feels as if you’re stuck as a dainty princess, while he’s steadily growing taller and bigger, a smaller picture of his formidable father.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

You froze, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with him before instinctively ducking behind the grand marble fountain. The cold stone pressed against your back as the guards’ footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the bobbing light of their lanterns.

“Who’s there?” one of them called out, his voice sharp and commanding.

Choso shifted beside you, his breath quick and shallow. Your hand brushed against his arm in reassurance, but it did little to ease the tension radiating off him. The guards’ lanterns swept methodically across the gardens, their shadows flickering on the trees.

“Stay still,” Choso mouthed, his dark eyes fixed on the approaching light.

The guards drew closer, their boots crunching against the gravel path. You could feel your pulse hammering in your ears, each second dragging on unbearably.

Then, a faint rustle to your left—a squirrel darting across the underbrush. The guards turned toward the noise, their lanterns swinging wide.

“Must’ve been an animal,” one muttered, though he sounded unconvinced.

“Keep looking,” the other replied gruffly. “The king’s orders were clear—no one’s to linger in the gardens after dark.”

The pair continued past, their voices fading as they moved toward the far side of the grounds.

You let out a shaky breath, but before you could fully relax, Choso grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. “We need to go deeper,” he said urgently, his voice low.

Without waiting for your agreement, he led you away from the fountain, weaving through the hedges and into the denser parts of the forest. The shadows thickened as the soft glow of the garden lanterns disappeared behind you. Branches brushed against your arms, and the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves filled the air as you ran.

“Choso!” you whispered breathlessly, struggling to keep up with his longer strides. “They’re gone!”

“Not far enough,” he replied, glancing back at you. “We can’t risk them doubling back.”

The forest grew darker the deeper you went, the canopy above blocking out most of the moonlight. Finally, when the sound of your own breathing seemed louder than anything else, Choso slowed to a halt beneath a towering oak.

“We should be safe here,” he murmured, releasing your hand.

You both sank to the ground, the soft carpet of moss cushioning your fall. For a moment, neither of you spoke, too winded to do anything but sit there, catching your breath. Then, a stifled giggle bubbled out of you, unable to contain the absurdity of the chase.

Choso shot you a warning look, but his resolve cracked when you pressed your hands over your mouth, failing to muffle your laughter. A small laugh escaped him in turn, and soon you were both doubled over, trying in vain to quiet yourselves.

“Shhh!” Choso whispered, though he was grinning. “You’ll get us caught.”

“You’re the loud one,” you whispered back, nudging him playfully.

Soon, the laughter slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of rustling leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Choso leaned back against the tree, his expression softening as he glanced up at the canopy. His eyes caught on something above, and he pointed. “Look—fruit.”

Following his gaze, you spotted the cluster of small, round pomengrenates hanging from a low branch. Choso stood, brushing dirt from his trousers, and reached up to pluck one. He examined it briefly before biting into it, his movements unhurried and deliberate.

“Are you just going to eat that without offering me one?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He smirked, holding another pomengrenate aloft. “You want it?”

“Obviously.”

But instead of handing it over, Choso lifted it above his head, his smirk widening. “Come and get it.” You stood up, moving closer to him to make a motion to grab the fruit. Alas, the effort was not fruitful.

“Choso!” you hissed, glaring at him as he kept the fruit just out of reach. You try many things: you grab his shoulder, tickle him on his stomach, and arms. However, it all is in vain.

“You’re the one who wants it,” he said, his head peering down at you in amusement.

You stood, determination written all over your face. “Fine. If you think I can’t—”

You leapt, swatting at his hand, but he easily moved the fruit higher, his height giving him the upper hand.

“You’re insufferable!” you said, laughing despite yourself as you tried again, this time jumping with more force. Still, you missed.

“Perhaps you should’ve been born taller,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Or perhaps you should stop being such a—” Before you could finish, he lowered the fruit suddenly, pressing it into your hand.

“There,” he said, smirking. “Satisfied?”

You took a triumphant bite, your glare softening into a grin. “For now.”

Settling back down, you both shared the fruit in companionable silence, the earlier tension of the night dissipating in the quiet forest. Yet, as you sat side by side, something about the way his gaze lingered on you—or perhaps the warmth blooming in your chest—made you wonder if these late-night meetings were becoming something more.

And then, years later, he left for war. Choso left for the battlefield, summoned to serve alongside his father as the general’s son.

The morning he departed was etched into your memory with painful clarity. The air was crisp, the kind that stung your lungs when you breathed too deeply, and the courtyard was alive with the sounds of preparation. Soldiers moved with purpose, their boots striking against the cobblestones in rhythmic determination. Horses snorted and pawed at the ground, their breaths rising like smoke in the cold air.

You stood at the edge of it all, your hands clasped tightly in front of you, trying to keep your expression composed. This was no place for a princess to display her feelings, no matter how tightly they knotted in her chest. Your father was nearby, speaking with the general in low, serious tones, his gaze sweeping over the troops with pride. Your mother was absent, as always, too preoccupied with courtly matters to concern herself with the departure of soldiers—even one who had once been your constant companion.

When Choso emerged from the crowd, his figure clad in the red, utilitarian uniform of a soldier, it was as though the rest of the scene blurred. The boy who had once darted through the gardens with you, his hair wild and his hands dirtied by mischief, now looked every inch the man his father had raised him to be. His hair was tied back, his face set in an unreadable mask of calm, and he carried himself with a solemnity that felt foreign.

He always did make you feel like a child. While you were still delaying acceptance of your fate as the princes—future queen—-he had grown into a man, fated to be a war general.

He approached slowly, each step deliberate. When he stopped before you, he did not smile. Instead, he bowed low, his dark eyes briefly meeting yours. “Your Highness—”

But you had enough of that godforsaken title. “Why must you leave?” You cried, your voice breaking as Choso stood before you in the courtyard.

The image of the steeled soldier crumbled as his eyes softened in fondness and melancholy. “You know I must.”

You shook your head fervently, as if to vehemently deny what was undeniably the truth. “You know that’s not true.” And it wasn’t, for it would only take an imperial command of yours to bar him from ever entering the battlefield.

But it was his dream; you saw the way he looked at his father. To deny Choso the sword and the glory he was destined for was to chain him down, and you knew that. So instead, you shook off the idea, then blurted, “You’ll write to me, won’t you?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with expectation. He hesitated, a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before it smoothed back into neutrality. “If time allows.”

That was all he offered. No promises. No reassurances. Just a vague, distant answer that left your heart sinking.

Outraged, and a bit petulant, you exclaimed. “What do you mean if time allows? Will you be so busy that you won’t have time? Are you not at least going to grant me some peace of mi—what is that?”

In the corner of your eye, you see something in his hand catch the sunlight, and glimmer. He hesitates, his hand clenching before inevitably opening his palm. A timid, “For you, Your Highness.”

An instinctual don’t call me that dies out in your throat as he shows you what he was hiding. In it he uncovers a small, delicate object—a pin shaped like a blooming flower, its petals carved with meticulous detail and painted in hues of white and gold.

You stared at it, your hands trembling as you took it from him. “What is this for?”

“It’s a symbol,” he explained, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Of where I’ll always be, even if I’m not here. Keep it with you, and you’ll know that... that I’ll do everything I can to return.”

“Oh, Choso.” Your bottom lip trembled as tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your fingers closed around the pin, the intricate craftsmanship biting into your palm. Somehow, the weight of it felt heavier than it should’ve been. “I don’t want a pin, Choso,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I want you to stay.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might reach out to you. But then he stilled, the rigidity in his posture a clear reminder of the boundaries he refused to cross.

Even so, you didn’t want to seem ungrateful. The gift, despite your pain, was beautiful, and its meaning wasn’t lost on you. You sniffled, brushing a tear from your cheek with a trembling hand. “But it is beautiful, regardless,” you murmured, holding it up to the light. The golden edges of the petals gleamed softly, like sunlight captured in metal. “Put it in my hair?”

Choso blinked, caught off guard by the request. His gaze flickered between you and the pin, uncertainty etched into his features. “Your Highness, I—”

“Please,” you interrupted gently, tilting your head slightly toward him. “Just this once.”

He hesitated for a long moment, his fingers flexing at his sides as though he were battling some internal conflict. Finally, with a barely audible sigh, he reached out and took the pin from your hand.

You held your breath as he stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. His hand brushed against your hair and your neck as he carefully gathered a small section, his touch warm and deliberate. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips, earned from countless hours of swordsmanship, yet his movements were painstakingly gentle.

“There,” he said softly, stepping back to examine his work. His gaze lingered on you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his formal mask cracked ever so slightly. There was something in his eyes—something raw and unspoken—that made your chest tighten.

You reached up instinctively, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of the pin now nestled securely in your hair. “How does it look?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the lump in your throat made it difficult.

Choso’s lips parted, but no words came. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away as if he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer. “It’s beautiful,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The horn sounded again, louder this time, breaking the fragile moment between you. Choso stepped back, the walls of propriety rising between you once more.

“Thank you,” you managed, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

He bowed deeply, avoiding your eyes. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with the faint scent of earth and steel, the pin in your hair a bittersweet reminder of the distance that now separated you.

For weeks after, you found yourself restless, wandering the garden paths where you had once talked and laughed together. You scribbled letter after letter, pouring out questions and updates, recounting bits of palace gossip and even sending sketches of the places you’d been. But no reply ever came.

At first, you tried to excuse it—surely, he was too busy, too occupied with the rigors of war to respond. Still, you kept writing, sending your letters to the front lines with the faint hope that one day, you’d receive one in return.

“Any news of the general’s son?” you would ask your father over dinner, feigning casual interest.

“He’s doing well,” your father would reply, distractedly cutting into his meal. “His tactics in the northern campaign have earned him commendation. A fine young soldier.”

You pressed further, ignoring the disapproving look your mother shot you. “And... is he safe?”

Your father raised a brow but indulged you. “Of course. The reports say he’s advancing quickly through the ranks. A promotion to captain is already under consideration.”

Your chest swelled with pride at the thought, but it was quickly eclipsed by frustration. If he was receiving such accolades, surely he could find the time to write a simple letter?

“Why do you trouble your father with such questions?” your mother chided later, her tone clipped. “The general’s son is serving the nation. You should focus on more important matters, like preparing for your duties.”

But your concern for Choso only grew. Whenever news from the front lines arrived, you would listen intently, hoping to hear his name mentioned. When you did, it brought a fleeting sense of relief, but it never lasted long.

The silence from him felt heavier with each passing month. You couldn’t understand it—how could someone who had once been your closest companion, who had sworn to always protect you, sever that bond so easily?

And yet, you never stopped writing. Each letter was folded with care, sealed with your personal wax stamp, and sent off with the same unwavering hope. Even if he didn’t reply, even if you didn’t understand why, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

The city was alive with celebration, a symphony of cheers, music, and the occasional crackle of fireworks that lit up the night sky. The soldiers had finally come home after a long winded war, and you just couldn’t miss out on the excitement. After Choso’s departure, you had grown. Before you were a gangly teenager, but now you were a young woman. With this came you forming your own opinion, independent of our parents, and had developed a habit of frequently sneaking out of the palace.

You couldn’t bear to stay confined to the palace, not when the air was thick with excitement and the news of the army’s triumphant return had set the entire city alight. The soldiers, clad in polished armor that gleamed even in the dim light, strode through the streets in small groups while the people cheered on the sidelines. They carried themselves with the confidence of men who had seen battle and emerged victorious.

Young ladies lingered at the edges of the crowd, their eyes alight with hope as they watched the soldiers pass. Some called out to them, their voices playful and lilting, while others merely smiled shyly, clutching kerchiefs or flowers they clearly longed to offer. The soldiers, for the most part, maintained a stoic demeanor, though a few exchanged grins or nodded in acknowledgment, their faces betraying a mix of pride and exhaustion.

Children darted between legs, waving tiny flags and shouting in delight, while their parents looked on with a mix of relief and gratitude. The scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced wine wafted through the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the soldiers’ armor. It was a night of unity, of celebration, where the lines between commoner and noble blurred in the shared joy of victory.

Draped in a simple cloak to conceal your identity, you slipped past the guards at the palace gates, your heart pounding with both exhilaration and trepidation. The anonymity of the cloak felt liberating as you merged with the crowd, the world suddenly vast and unguarded in a way it never was within the palace walls.

Laughter surrounded you, the contagious energy of the revelry lifting your spirits as you wandered farther from the familiar confines of royal life. You paused to admire a street performer juggling flaming torches, your cloak billowing slightly in the breeze. But before you could move on, a sudden gust snatched the handkerchief tucked into your cloak.

You gasped, your fingers grasping for it, but the delicate fabric was already airborne, dancing above the heads of the crowd. You watched helplessly as it soared higher, carried by the playful wind. Instinctively, you gave chase, weaving through the throng of revelers as your heart raced with the thrill of pursuit.

The handkerchief drifted out of sight, disappearing beyond the swell of people. Your steps faltered, and you stood on tiptoe, scanning the crowd in vain. It was only then that a firm hand shot up above the sea of heads, catching the fluttering fabric mid-air. The sight of your handkerchief, caught in a strong, gloved grip, sent a jolt through you.

Your gaze traveled upward, and there he stood—a figure that was at once familiar and startlingly different. His broad shoulders and proud stance were unmistakable even before he turned, his dark eyes locking with yours.

“Your Highness?” His voice was deep, steady, and entirely too familiar. Then, his eyes went to your hair—you, still wearing the hairpin he gave you that day—and they filled with a conflicted, longing sort of expression.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you froze. He looked so much…bigger. He always had muscles due to his frequent physical lessons, but he was so much taller now, his face a lot more sculpted. Before you could interpret what the lurching in your heart meant, he took a step towards you. But before he could take another step toward you, you turned and ran instinctively, the sound of his voice chasing you as surely as his footsteps.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! If Choso knew you had sneaked out, he would send you right back, citing useless things about duty and protecting you. While your traitorous heart started beating faster as soon as you saw him—different, but still undeniably Choso—you knew your liberty was at an end if he sent you home and informed your parents of what you did.

You bolted as fast as you could, your cloak billowing behind you as you darted into a narrow alley. Footsteps echoed against the cobblestones, heavy and deliberate, chasing you down. You reached the end of the alley and stopped, your chest heaving, unsure whether to keep running or face him.

“Your Highness,” the voice came again, closer this time.

You spun around, and there he was. Choso. But he wasn’t the boy you remembered—he was a man now. Broad shoulders filled out his uniform, the insignia of his rank glinting on his chest. His hair was tied back, revealing a face hardened by battle and time. Yet his eyes, dark and intense, still held the same quiet depth you’d known as children.

He dropped to one knee, his hand over his heart. “Your Highness.”

You gaped at his display. Since when did he start kneeling? “What are you doing?”

His voice came out, devoid of the warmth you had once known. “It’s protocol, Your Highness.” His head remained bowed, his knee pressed to the uneven cobblestones, the hand holding your handkerchief resting against his heart.

But you were in denial, scrambling to pull him up by his arms. It was futile; he was way stronger than you, and at your touch, he jumped back, as if stung. Wounded, you urged him. “Get up,” you stepped closer, “Choso, it’s me. You don’t need to—”

“I must, Your Highness.” His tone was calm but resolute, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Unless you are issuing an imperial command, I have no choice but to honor the rules set forth by your station.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “An imperial command?” The words tasted bitter on your tongue. You didn’t want commands; you wanted familiarity, the easy camaraderie you once shared.

“Yes, Your Highness.” He finally lifted his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “If you do not wish me to kneel, then say it as such. Otherwise…” He lowered his head again. “This is my place.”

“Your place?” You felt a flicker of anger rise in your chest. “Choso, your place is by my side, as it always has been! Don’t—don’t treat me like some distant monarch.”

His shoulders tensed, and you thought you caught a flash of something—guilt, perhaps?—in the way his fingers tightened around the handkerchief. But still, he didn’t move.

Frustrated, you stepped even closer, your voice rising despite your efforts to remain calm. “Get up,” you said, reaching out and tugging at his arm. “I said, get up!”

“I cannot,” he said softly, the words cutting through your frustration like a blade. “Not unless you order it as my superior.”

You stared at him, a mix of hurt and disbelief swirling in your chest. “Fine,” you said, your voice trembling. “If that’s what it takes, then I command you—get up, Choso. I command you to stand!”

For a moment, the tension lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. Slowly, reluctantly, he rose to his feet, towering over you with a presence that felt both familiar and foreign.

But as you looked up at him, your frustration only grew. “This isn’t you,” you said, your voice softer now, tinged with sadness. “You’re treating me like I’m just your princess, like I’m someone you barely know. Do you even know how much it hurt when you never wrote back to me? I kept sending letter after letter, but it was like you didn’t care. Like you forgot about me.”

Choso’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “It wasn’t my place to respond, Your Highness.”

It was that damn phrase. “Your place?” you echoed, now even more bitterly. “You were my friend, Choso. My closest friend. Now you stand here, calling me Your Highness like I’m a stranger, like we never ran through the gardens or talked under the stars. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

For a moment, his expression softened, but it was fleeting. He straightened, his demeanor distant once more. “It’s dangerous for you to be here,” he said quietly. “I need to call for a carriage to take you back to the palace.”

Your heart sunk to your derriere. If Choso did indeed send you back, your parents would undeniably discover that you’ve been sneaking out. “No!” you snapped, stepping forward. “You can’t. If my parents find out I was here, they’ll—”

“They’ll ensure your safety,” he interrupted, his voice steady but firm. “And that’s what matters.”

You stared at him, now anger bubbling in your chest. “So you’ll just hand me over like I’m some burden to be dealt with? What about you?” Then, in a strong fit, you bursted out. “Are you going to stay here and fool around with girls while I’m locked away in the palace?”

His eyes widened briefly at your accusation, a flicker of surprise breaking through his stoic mask. But then his expression hardened, and he took a step back. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“Fair?” you shot back, your voice trembling. “What’s fair about any of this, Choso? You’re not even trying to fight for us—for the friendship we used to have.”

He hesitated, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then make it simple!” you demanded, your heart aching with every word. “Stop pushing me away. Stop acting like I don’t matter to you anymore.”

For a moment, you thought he might say something—something real, something that would bridge the growing chasm between you. But instead, he turned away, his voice steady and distant as he said, “Wait here. I’ll call for the carriage.”

You watched him walk away, the ache in your chest spreading until it felt like it would consume you entirely. The handkerchief in your hand trembled as you clenched your fingers around it, your anger and sadness swirling into a storm of emotion.

And yet, even as he disappeared into the bustling streets, a part of you refused to believe this was the end. You couldn’t let it be.

Ever since his return to the palace, Choso has been ignoring you.

It’s not that you were spending every hour and every minute with him before, when he was just your childhood friend. However, you would meet everyday, whether it to be sneak off into the gardens at night, or meet for lunch or dinner. Even a request of yours could’ve secured a visit to town, the both of you going to town to eat pastries and street food while accompanied by a chaperone. Of course, that was due to your incessant pleas to your disapproving mother, but you could score an occasional playdate outside the palace every month or so.

But it feels…different. And he feels different.

You oft find yourself daydreaming about him, older and a decorated soldier. And before you can catch yourself, you find your cheeks heated and your heart set aflutter. It’s a bit mind-boggling, really. Ever since Choso left, none of the future dukes and lords had ever caught your attention, even at balls. Their gentle, weak disposition didn’t compare to your Choso, you always thought. Back then, you had always thought of it as pride for your best friend, but now…..

Musing aside, you’re tired of this distance Choso has created between you. So you choose to seek him out.

The castle courtyard was alive with the sharp clang of swords and the rhythmic stomp of boots on hard-packed dirt. You leaned over the balustrade of the upper terrace, concealed behind a stone pillar, watching the soldiers below. It wasn’t the sparring or the strategy that captivated you—it was Choso.

The sun bore down on him as he moved with precision and power, his blade a silver blur as he sparred with one of the veteran knights. His whole torso is bare; damp with sweat, the sun shines against the cords and cords of muscle that then lead to a string of hair that trails into his trousers. The muscles in his arms ripple with every swing and parry. You bite your lip, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks that you stubbornly attributed to the summer heat.

He had changed so much. Gone was the boy who had laughed with you under the willow tree and run with you through the gardens. In his place was a man who carried the weight of war on his broad shoulders, his every movement deliberate, his expression unreadable. And yet, despite the distance he put between you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

When the sparring session ended, Choso handed his sword to a squire and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. You straightened as he turned, half-expecting him to glance up and spot you. But he didn’t. Instead, he spoke briefly to the knight, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. You couldn’t keep hiding and watching from afar. You had to speak to him, to demand answers for why he had been avoiding you since the day in the alley.

Quickly, you made your way down to the courtyard, your pulse racing as you rehearsed what you would say. But when you reached the training grounds, Choso was already heading toward the barracks.

“Choso!” you called out, your voice echoing across the courtyard.

He froze mid-step, his shoulders tensing before he turned slowly to face you. His expression was neutral, guarded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something he quickly masked.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing his head. “What brings you here?”

You frowned, frustrated by the formality in his tone. “I wanted to speak with you,” you said, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy with training and my duties.”

“That’s a lie,” you said, crossing your arms. “You always find a reason to leave whenever I try to approach you. You didn’t even look at me after the alley—”

“Your Highness,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not proper for you to be seen in the training grounds.”

“Proper?” you repeated, anger flaring in your chest. “Since when do you care about what’s proper? You didn’t care when we were sneaking out or when we were running through the gardens—”

“That was different,” he said, his tone softer now. “We were children. Things aren’t the same anymore.”

“Why not?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the soldiers milling about in the distance. “I’m not pushing you away,” he said finally. “I’m doing what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “How can ignoring me and avoiding me be what’s best for me?”

Choso didn’t answer. Instead, he bowed his head again, his hands clenched at his sides. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I need to return to my duties.”

And before you could stop him, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the courtyard, your heart aching with every step he took.

You paced the length of your chambers, clutching the skirts of your dress. It’s been two times that Choso dismissed since his arrival. Did he abhor you so?

It was as if an invisible wall had been erected between you, the builder of it Choso for some mysterious reason. Proprietary aside, it would be okay for the occasional chat, would it not? After all, he was still a noble in his own regard, and a conversation or two wouldn’t be frowned upon. So why was he ignoring you entirely?

You couldn’t take it anymore. If he wouldn’t come to you, then you would ensure he had no choice but to stay by your side. If he truly detests it, you will let him go, no matter how painful it would be and how ardently you would mourn your friendship. But you needed to know.

Resolved, you marched to your parents’ audience chamber, where they were seated in quiet discussion. Your father looked up first, his brows furrowing slightly at your abrupt entrance. “What is it, my dear? You seem troubled.”

Your mother glanced at you as well, seated right next to the king, her sharp gaze assessing. “Has something happened?”

You straightened your shoulders, facing them both, willing your voice to remain steady. “Father, Mother, I have a request.”

Your father tilted his head, curious. “Go on.”

You hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “I would like Choso to be assigned as my personal guard.”

The queen blinked, her lips pressing into a thin line, and questioned, “Choso?”

“Yes,” you said quickly to prevent your mother from getting a word in. “He’s proven himself in battle, hasn’t he? He’s been promoted several times for his skill and loyalty. Who better to protect me?”

Your father leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “It’s true he’s risen quickly through the ranks. He’s a fine soldier.”

“And he’s someone I trust,” you added, stepping closer. “He’s been by my side since we were children. I feel safer with him than with anyone else. With me growing into adulthood, there would be no one better to be by my side.”

Your mother’s gaze sharpened. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with his recent return to the palace, would it?”

You met her eyes, refusing to back down. “It has everything to do with the fact that I need someone I can rely on. Someone who knows me.”

Your father exchanged a look with your mother, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. I will speak to the general about the arrangement.” Then, a little wryly, he adds, “Although, I did hear that it was him that reported you when you were sneaking out in public. Perhaps it would be a fine match.” At that, your mother visibly bristled at the memory of hearing that you were out, unguarded.

At the king’s words, relief washed over you, but it was quickly tempered by your mother’s stern voice. “This is highly unusual, you know. A princess requesting a specific guard. People will talk.”

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes, but showing sass to your mother would mean that she would argue further. Instead, you went and showed her your pride. “Let them,” you said, lifting your chin. “I don’t care what they say.”

Your father chuckled softly, knowing you would say something of the sort. “Spoken like a true princess.”

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head. “Both of you, Father and Mother.”

As you left the chamber, your heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was your chance—your chance to bring Choso back into your life. Whatever walls he had built between you, you were determined to tear them down.

The water was warm, steam curling gently around you as you leaned back in the large marble tub. The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant patterns across the tiled floor. It was one of the few moments you had to yourself, free from the watchful eyes of attendants and the endless constraints of royal duty. You closed your eyes, sinking deeper into the water, allowing yourself to relax—until the door to your bathing chamber slammed open.

“Your Highness, why did you—” At first, Choso raised his voice slightly, storming in. Then, he stopped right in his tracks as he noticed you, and your face, your neck and then the rest of your body engorged in soapy, steamy water. Blushing furiously, he turned, scrambling for the door. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to—”

He was rigid as he stormed toward the exit, and you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the sight. “Choso, wait,” you called, your voice laced with amusement. He stopped abruptly, halting awkwardly in his tracks. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm for your new title,” you teased, “I’d prefer if you didn’t barge into the bathing chamber. Let us count ourselves lucky that you had not seen… more.”

It was nearly impossible not to laugh now. Even the back of his neck was flushed a deep crimson, and it struck you as absurdly endearing. The aloof and stoic soldier who had spent weeks ignoring you had crumbled into a shy boy at the mere sight of you in a tub. You supposed it made sense—he’d likely not had much interaction with women, what with his rigid dedication to the army. Still, his reaction felt... exaggerated.

Choso let out a shaky exhale, his voice strained when he finally spoke. “I apologize,” he said, his tone clipped as though to mask his discomfort. “But I must ask—why did you instate me as your guard?”

The answer was simple, and you played absentmindedly with a soap bubble as you replied, “Because there is no one I trust more than you.”

For a moment, the room was silent save for the faint dripping of water. Then, Choso spoke, his voice low and almost pained. “Why must you do this to me? Why must you torment me so?”

What?

His words pierced through the lighthearted atmosphere, leaving you stunned. A pang of hurt welled in your chest at the sharpness of his tone. “Does it torment you to be in my company?” you asked, laughing scornfully to hide the sting.

When he didn’t answer, the silence was louder than any words could have been.

“If it torments you,” you continued bitterly, “then so be it. You have already had my one liberty stripped away. Mother and Father have doubled the surveillance on me, all thanks to you.” The memory of your recent restrictions only added fuel to the fire of your frustration. “Is this not fair? An eye for an eye, then. Perhaps your torment will teach you to stop pretending you know what’s best for me.”

Still brimming with anger, you lifted your chin and gestured to the door. “You may leave now.”

For a moment, he stood there, the weight of his presence filling the room. Then, with a stiff nod, he turned to the door. “Your Highness,” he murmured, his voice cold and formal.

And then, he was gone.

You really do abhor dinner parties.

There’s much wrong with them, and if you had to, you could do a systematic rundown of every single grievance. The first and foremost was the absurd inability to properly enjoy the food. The chefs’ hard work deserved to be indulged in, not nibbled delicately with those ridiculous little spoons. And then there was the matter of breathing, which you could barely manage with your waist cinched so tightly and your bodice forcing your chest up like some cruel display. Sitting down practically demanded you forgo the simple luxury of air.

But the worst part? Having to entertain men.

“And I have acquired double the profits of Lord Gojo,” Lord Naoya declared, puffing his chest like a rooster preening in the henhouse. His voice boomed with self-importance, his words spilling out in a showy, rehearsed cadence.

You couldn’t help yourself—you smiled. And while it appeared to him as admiration, it was born of pure amusement. The man clearly thought you were too dim to know better, but you were well-versed in state finances. Lord Naoya’s exaggerated claims were as transparent as glass.

On your right, Choso sat silently, his role as your personal guard justifying his unusually close position. He had been quiet all evening, his eyes scanning the room more than his plate.

“And surely, a woman as lovely as yourself would agree that business acumen is the truest mark of a man’s value,” Naoya continued, leaning closer to you with a smirk you found utterly punchable.

You giggled, not at his words, but at the sheer absurdity of them. You bit your lip to stifle a laugh, but your amusement couldn’t be fully hidden.

When you finally turned to glance at Choso, however, your mirth faltered. He wasn’t looking at Naoya anymore—his dark eyes were locked on you, his brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

He looked very upset.

You blinked, confused, before glancing back at Naoya, who was still prattling on, utterly oblivious. Was Choso… angry at you?

It didn’t make sense. After you had initiated him as your guard, he’d been resigned after that confrontation in your bathing chambers. Ever since, you’d seen him stoic, protective, and even exasperated, but this—this was different. The weight of his gaze lingered on you like a reprimand, and it unsettled you in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

“Your Highness, I trust you’d agree,” Naoya pressed, oblivious to the charged air.

“Agree?” you echoed, snapping back to attention. You hadn’t been listening, too distracted by Choso’s silent brooding. “Oh, of course,” you said vaguely, waving your hand with a polite smile. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Naoya looked pleased with himself, but you barely noticed. Your focus shifted back to Choso, who had turned his head forward, his jaw tight. You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Is something the matter?”

He didn’t look at you, his tone curt. “Nothing, Your Highness.”

Your stomach twisted at the formality. The night had already been exhausting enough, and now Choso was acting like you’d personally offended him.

“Choso,” you pressed, your voice softer now, “if I’ve done something to upset you—”

“It’s not my place to say,” he interrupted, finally looking at you. His gaze was sharp, cutting through your defenses. “But if I may offer counsel, I’d suggest not wasting your smiles on men like him.”

You blinked, taken aback. His words weren’t loud, but they struck with the force of a hammer.

“What does that mean?” you whispered, your amusement long gone, replaced by confusion—and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“It means,” Choso said, his voice low, “that he’s not worth it.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with implication.

Before you could respond, the clinking of glasses drew everyone’s attention, and you were forced to look away as a toast was made. But even as the room filled with polite applause and laughter, your thoughts were consumed by Choso’s quiet but pointed remarks.

When you glanced back at him, his focus was elsewhere, his expression carefully neutral. Yet something about the tension in his shoulders told you that the conversation wasn’t over—not really.

And for the rest of the evening, Naoya’s words became nothing more than background noise, drowned out by the quiet storm brewing in Choso’s eyes.

The air in your chambers was warm, the faint crackle of the fireplace soothing you as your maid finished tugging the laces of your nightgown into place. The fabric was delicate, thin enough to feel the cool evening breeze against your skin despite the room's warmth. With a bow, the maid excused herself, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Ever since that dinner party with Naoya, Choso had been more distant than ever. Before, it had seemed that he had warmed up to the task of being your guard; whenever you walked through the garden, you eventually warmed him enough that the both of you could converse during the stroll. Of course, it hadn’t returned to what it was like before, but it was still progress. However, now it seemed that all he had to offer was curt responses and avoidant stares.

The change grated on you, more than you cared to admit. You weren’t naïve; you knew something had shifted that night. The way he had looked at you, the way his words had cut—it all lingered, a splinter in your chest that you couldn’t pull free.

Still, tonight was meant to be routine, a brief reprieve from the emotional turmoil. You always ended your evenings with a massage, a small luxury that helped soothe the tension from the day. Summoning Choso to your chambers, you intended for him to call for the maid who usually performed the task.

When he arrived, his expression was as stony as ever. “You called for me, Your Highness?”

“Yes, Choso,” you said, smoothing your hands over the hem of your nightgown. You lazed back on your chaise lounge, head against pillow as you looked at him. “I need the maid for my massage. Could you fetch her?”

He hesitated. “The maids have retired for the night. Shall I summon someone from the servants’ quarters?”

You frowned. The thought of disturbing anyone at this hour felt excessive. Then, your gaze drifted to Choso, his broad shoulders rigid, his hands clasped behind his back in his usual formal stance. An idea struck you, and you spoke before fully thinking it through.

“Then you’ll do it.”

His dark eyes snapped to yours, wide with disbelief. “Your Highness, I—”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence but unable to fully hide the mischief in your smile. “Oh, come now, Choso. You’re stronger than any maid. Surely, your hands would be better suited for the task.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you as though you’d just declared the sky was green. His lips parted, but no words came out, his gaze darting nervously around the room before settling back on you. “I don’t think that’s… appropriate,” he said carefully, his voice low and strained.

You leaned back slightly, arching a brow. “And why not? It’s just a massage. Surely, as my personal guard, it’s your duty to ensure my comfort, no?”

“Your Highness—”

“Choso,” you interrupted, your tone softening as you leaned forward slightly, letting your hair cascade over one shoulder. “You’ve sworn an oath to protect me. Are you really going to deny me such a simple request? Besides,” you added with a teasing smile, “I trust you. Who better to take care of me?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his shoulders visibly tensing. It was rare to see him so uncharacteristically flustered, and you found it almost endearing. Still, you could see the war waging behind his eyes—the struggle between his rigid sense of propriety and his inability to deny you.

“Choso,” you said again, gentler this time, “it’s just us here. No one else needs to know. Please?”

The word seemed to undo him. After a long, weighted pause, he exhaled sharply, his hands clenching at his sides before he gave a stiff nod. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

You smiled in satisfaction and shifted, lying down on the chaise lounge with your head resting on your folded arms. The thin fabric of your nightgown clung to your back and shoulders, leaving little to the imagination, but you paid it no mind. Choso, however, hesitated, his gaze flickering over you before he finally moved to kneel beside you, his movements almost painfully hesitant.

You settled onto the chaise lounge, lying on your stomach and pulling your hair over one shoulder to expose the curve of your neck. The thin fabric of your nightgown clung to your body, leaving little to the imagination, but you paid no mind to it. Choso, however, lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his dark eyes flickering over the exposed skin before quickly darting away.

The tension in the room was palpable, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his hesitation. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until finally, he knelt beside you, his movements stiff and deliberate. His hands hovered just above your shoulders for a moment, as if he were debating whether to go through with it, before he finally made contact.

The first press of his palms was firm, his calloused hands warm against your skin. He worked in silence, but his touch was tentative, almost reluctant, as though every movement was a battle against himself. His fingers found the knots in your shoulders, but his grip tightened slightly as you let out a soft sigh of relief.

“You’re good at this,” you murmured, your voice languid. “I should’ve asked you sooner.”

Choso didn’t respond, but his hands stilled for the briefest moment, his jaw tightening. He resumed a beat later, his touch growing more confident as his fingers moved lower, kneading along the length of your spine. Yet, there was something almost possessive in the way he worked, his hands lingering at the curve of your back, brushing the edges of your nightgown with an intimacy that felt deliberate, even if unspoken.

You couldn’t see his expression, but you could sense the conflict in him—the way his movements wavered between duty and something else entirely. There was a tightness to his breathing, a subtle shift in the way his hands hesitated when they strayed too close to the hem of your gown. It was as if he were fighting an invisible war, one you were only beginning to understand.

Heat pooled in your belly, but the mood shifted when Choso spoke, his voice low and edged with something that made your breath catch.

“Do you let all your guards do this to you?”

Your eyes snapped open, the sharpness of his tone cutting through the haze. You turned your head to look at him, frowning. “What?”

He straightened, pulling his hands away, anger visible on his face. “Do you let all your guards touch you like this, or am I just the special fool?”

The accusation in his voice stung. You sat up on the chaise lounge, clutching the fabric of your nightgown to your chest. “What are you implying?”

“I’m implying,” he said, his eyes dark and filled with something unnameable, “that you smiled at Naoya like he was the only man in the room. That you entertained his nonsense—his lies—like you actually enjoyed it.”

A sharp laugh escaped you, incredulous and hurt. “You think I was flirting with Naoya? That I would ever entertain a fool like him?”

“You did tonight,” Choso shot back, his jaw clenched tightly. “You smiled and laughed at him, as if he deserved it. As if you weren’t above him. The you I knew wouldn’t have entertained someone like Naoya for a second. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

That cut deeper than it should have. Your breath hitched, and frustration welled in your chest, bursting free before you could stop it.

“You don’t know me anymore?” you echoed, your voice trembling with emotion. “Well, Choso, I don’t know you either! You’re the one who left me without a word. You’re the one who never answered my letters, who pushed me away for no reason. You didn’t answer them for years, Choso. For years! How can you stand there and talk about me changing when you’ve done everything you could to shut me out?”

He flinched, as if your words struck a nerve. His gaze fell to the floor, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I didn’t answer because I thought it was better that way,” he said quietly. “Because I knew… whatever this was—whatever we were—it couldn’t last. I didn’t want to make it harder for you.”

Your heart cracked at his words, tears threatening to spill over. “You didn’t want to make it harder for me?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You made it unbearable, Choso! You didn’t just leave me, you abandoned me. Without explanation, without closure. You were my friend, my closest ally, and you just… disappeared!”

“I was avoiding the inevitable,” he said, his tone low and bitter. “I was saving us both from something that could never be.”

“And why not?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Why couldn’t we have stayed friends? Why couldn’t you have stayed as someone I trusted, someone I could rely on?”

Choso let out a harsh, incredulous laugh, his head bowing as his hands rose to rub at his temples. When he looked back at you, his eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You think I just want to be your ally?” Choso’s voice cracked, his tone harsh and trembling, a storm barely contained within him. He stepped closer, his shadow stretching toward you in the dim light. His dark eyes blazed, raw and unguarded, piercing straight through you.

“Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life standing at your side, pretending it doesn’t destroy me every time you smile at another man?” he continued, his voice rising with emotion. “Do you think I want to be some nameless figure in your life, someone who exists only to bow, to nod, to follow orders while the rest of the world gets to bask in your warmth?”

Your breath hitched as he took another step, the space between you shrinking.

“I don’t want to be your ally, your friend, or some loyal servant,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I want you. I have always wanted you.”

His confession struck you like lightning, setting every nerve ablaze. You could see the anguish etched into his features, the way his hands shook as if he was struggling to hold himself back.

“I want to touch you without wondering if it’s inappropriate,” he went on, his words tumbling out, unrestrained. “I want to kiss you without the weight of the crown between us. I want to wake up beside you every morning, knowing you’re mine—truly mine—and not just some unattainable dream I’ve been foolish enough to carry.”

“Choso…” you whispered, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

“I want to tear apart every damned rule, every line drawn between us,” he continued, his voice thick with frustration and desire. “I want the world to see that you’re mine—not Naoya’s, not some prince’s, not anyone else’s. Mine.”

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair, his composure unraveling further. “But that’s not what the world allows, is it?” he said, his tone laced with venom. “Because I’m not a prince or a duke or anyone worthy of you. I’m just a man—a soldier. And the world says I can’t have you.”

His chest heaved with the force of his confession, and his eyes—God, his eyes—burned with a pain so deep it was almost unbearable to witness.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as his words sank in. “You could have had me,” you said, your voice trembling, tears stinging your eyes. “If you’d just stayed, if you’d let me in instead of shutting me out. We could have figured this out together, Choso. I would have fought for you.”

His expression faltered, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his anger. “And what would you have me do?” he asked hoarsely. “Stand beside you while everyone whispers that I’m unworthy? Watch as suitors line up for your hand, knowing I can’t stop them because it’s my duty to protect you, not love you?”

“I don’t care what the world says!” you burst out, stepping closer, your voice rising with desperation. “I don’t care about duty or station or rules. All I ever wanted was you, Choso. You, as my friend, my ally, my—”

“Your what?” he interrupted, his voice low and rough. “Say it. Say what I’ve been longing to hear and dreading all at once.”

Your breath hitched, tears streaming down your face as you met his gaze. “My everything,” you whispered.

For a moment, the tension between you hung thick and electric, the weight of years of unspoken words pressing down on you both. Then Choso stepped back, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight.

“That’s why I stayed away,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “Because I knew if I didn’t, I’d lose myself in you completely. And I wouldn’t be able to let you go. This is why I must stay away.”

For a moment, he lingered there, his hand flexing at his side as if fighting some invisible force. His gaze dropped, and when he finally turned away, it was slow, deliberate, each step a struggle. He didn’t look back as he crossed the threshold, the heavy sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silence.

The silence in your room was suffocating. Curtains drawn tightly, the dim flicker of a single candle cast wavering shadows on the stone walls. Plates of untouched food sat on a tray near the door, abandoned by the maids you had dismissed hours ago. The only sound was the faint rustle of your gown as you shifted on the edge of your bed, your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold your broken pieces together.

A soft knock broke the stillness, tentative and almost hesitant. You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to see anyone, let alone speak. Whoever it was would surely leave if you didn’t respond.

But the door creaked open.

Your heart twisted. “I told you all to leave me be,” you said hoarsely, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“I’m not one of your maids,” came a quiet reply from a voice that was all-too-familiar.

Your head snapped up, breath catching in your throat as Choso stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. His dark eyes, always so steady and unreadable, now held an uncharacteristic uncertainty.

“Get out,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended, though the hurt behind it was impossible to mask. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“I know,” he murmured, taking a hesitant step forward. He held something in his hands—a small stack of parchment, edges worn and yellowed. “But I have something to say to you.”

You frowned, your gaze darting to the papers he carried. “What is that?”

“Letters,” Choso said, his voice thick with emotion. He swallowed hard before continuing, “The ones I wrote to you but never sent.”

You stiffened, your heart lurching painfully in your chest. “Why are you showing me this now?”

“Because I should have given them to you a long time ago,” he said simply. “And because I need you to know… what I couldn’t say before. But what I feel I must say now, for I am done with pretending I am not a selfish, selfish man.”

He stepped closer, setting the letters on the bed beside you. For a moment, he hesitated, then knelt before you, his hands resting on his thighs as he looked up at you with a mixture of guilt and determination, as if he had made a decision. And you fight desperately to not yourself believe that, perhaps, he has changed his mind, that he will finally take you in the way you desire.

But you steel your heart as you cautiously look at him.

“Read them,” he said quietly. “Please.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the stack, the paper cool and rough beneath your touch. The first letter was dated years ago, the ink slightly smudged, as if his hand had lingered too long on the words.

My dearest friend,

I’ve written and torn up this letter a dozen times. How do I explain the ache I feel every night I march under foreign stars? How do I explain that even on the battlefield, amidst the chaos, my mind drifts to you? I think of our secret meetings in the garden, the way you’d laugh as you dared me to meet you in the willow tree every night. Do you remember that night we barely escaped the guards? Your laughter, your gown splayed across the forest floor. I dream of those nights—of you leaning close to steal the fruit in my palm, staring up at me, the world disappearing, and wishing I could ask for more. For you close to me not under the pretense of stealing the pomegranate in my hand, but for something more.

Your voice broke as you read, tears pooling in your eyes. Choso remained silent, his head bowed, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

You moved to the next letter.

The scent of jasmine haunted me on the journey here. Every step of the way, I remembered you crouched beneath the trellis, daring me to pluck the flowers despite the gardener’s wrath. When I handed you the bouquet, your smile made me feel invincible, as though I could conquer kingdoms just to see it again. I wished then that I could have told you the truth—that every reckless moment we shared was a reprieve from the weight of duty. I wanted to kiss you in the moonlight, to tell you that you were more than a dream to me. I tried to, in part, with the hairpin I gave you, one that amplified your gentle beauty even more than I thought possible. But how could I ruin what little time we had?

“Choso,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why didn’t you send these?”

“I was a coward,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought it was kinder to stay away. To bury how I felt. But it wasn’t kinder, was it?”

You shook your head, unable to speak as you continued reading, each letter peeling away the walls you’d built to protect yourself from the pain of his absence.

When you reached the last letter, your breath hitched.

If I were braver, I’d tell you this to your face: I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time we ran barefoot through the gardens, laughing until we couldn’t breathe. I’ve loved you since you bandaged my hand after my sparring lessons, scolding me and treating me gently as if I weren’t a warrior, as if my rough, damaged hands were worth your care. I love you with a desperation that terrifies me, that kept me awake in camp as I replayed your smile over and over. If I lose you now, it will be my own doing. But still, I love you.

Your tears fell freely now, soaking the parchment. Choso rose slowly, his hands lifting as if to touch you but stopping just shy of your skin.

“Say something,” he pleaded, his voice raw.

Instead, you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet you. Your lips found his in a kiss that was fierce and unrestrained, pouring every ounce of longing, anger, and love into the connection.

Choso froze for a heartbeat before melting into you. The kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that matched your own.

His hands moved to grasp your waist, as if afraid you might vanish. Before they could touch you, he paused as if doubting his ability to be able to touch you. To your frustration, the heat of his almost-contact pulled away. “Your Highness—”

“Choso,” you pleaded, grasping his hands in yours and placing them on their rightful place: your body. You dragged his hands down your torso, helping him explore your curves sensually, intimately as he squeezed his brows together, eyes shut, conveying his inner turmoil. His resolve almost cracked as you begged him, “Take me. Please.”

With agitation, he withdrew his hands from your grasp, painfully clenching them by his sides as he groaned. “Your Highness, you’re playing with fire. I mustn’t. Your body is of a thousand gold, and I would never dare to touch you with my hands—”

But you interrupted him by snorting. “If it is of a thousand gold, or whatever archaic term the royal legends have invented, then you are a thousand gold richer.” You gently took his face in your arms, kissing his forehead. “I am yours, and if you believe that anyone will have my heart after you, then you are most grievously mistaken.”

He still looked at you, both kneeling on your bed, with a conflicted expression. You gave him a reassuring look before pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. Then, you teased him softly. “Will you not fight for my hand? Will you truly let me be promised to another man after this?”

His eyes darkened in a possessive manner, as he joined his lips against yourself furiously. “I would never,” he punctuated his interruptions with a searing kiss. “let anyone have you after this.”

With tender hands that heavily contrasted his desperation, he slipped the shoulder of your dress, dragging the hem down and down until your breasts were bare to the air. “So, so beautiful,” he whispered before enclosing your nubs in his mouth, kissing them both tenderly.

You could only but gasp, victim to his ministrations as he sneaked another hand up your legs, gently caressing your thighs until he met your core. He groaned, louder than ever, when he was met with the bare heat, wet with your desire and arousal all for him. With painstaking gentleness, he eased a finger in, drinking in your moans and sounds of pleasure.

He couldn’t help but smile at the small scream that escaped you when he curled his fingers up. It seemed he had found the place that pleasured you most, one that you had stayed unbeknownst to. And he definitely couldn’t stop himself from torturing and repeatedly hitting against it with the way squeals of his name left your mouth whenever he did so.

Before you knew it, an unknown feeling washed over you as Choso kept continuing his touches, one that seemed like worship with how he was looking for your reactions, for your pleasure. A gush of slick escaped you, and Choso kissed your breasts one final time before drawing out his finger.

You peered down at him, flushed, as his eyes stayed trained on you while he slowly drew his finger inside his mouth, seeming to savor your taste. At last, he pulled it away from his mouth and asked, voice hoarse, “how are you feeling?”

You laugh bashfully and look away, blushing. “You know you don’t need to ask that. But,” and you pause, looking at him through your lashes, “you know I want more.”

The flush that was only apparent on his cheeks spread to his entire face and neck and he whines as he buries his face in your breasts once more, now to evade eye contact. “Don’t say things like that. It makes holding back even more arduous.”

You stroke his hair, smiling softly. “Would you have any qualms about taking my…maidenhood if you were my husband.”

His answer is immediate. “Absolutely not.”

“So you want to…make love with me?” You heat up at your own words, nervously looking at him in fear of his rejection.

He pauses, but then slowly nods. “Well, yes, but—”

“Then we shall put archaic traditions aside. Choso,” and you look at him mischievously as he squints at you, “I command you to make love to me.”

The reaction is immediate. As if animated again, he pins you down against your mattress, eyes feral as he takes your lips with his once more. With both hands, a riiiip echoes across the room as he entirely tears your shift in his bare hands. Mind you, it was not weak material, and you lay dumbfounded as he strips his shirt off.

You don’t even have time to admire his bare torso, muscled as you knew it would be. Your eyes automatically trail down to the string of hair that leads down to his v-line as he rids himself of his trousers.

What gets uncovered makes you pray for your life, and you gasp, eyes wide. “How is that even supposed to go inside—”

He says your name, reassuringly, as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I will take the utmost care of you. I promise.” He lines his length with your entrance, and, with another kiss, he pushes in gently.

When his member first breaches you, you gasp, dizzied by the fullness. Then, as he slowly bottoms out, you whine while impaled on his cock. “More.”

Basking in the euphoria of your clenching heat around him, at your request, he curses. He pulls out his length—slowly, gently—and then slams back in, and you squeal, whispering a breathless utter of his name once more.

He continues making love to you, the sounds of his devotion echoing across the room. When you both climax, it is down with a prayer of the other’s name, as a promise. That you are both each other’s, and no qualms about proprietary and status could any longer apprehend either of you.

When the both of you settle down, him having gently cleaned you with a cloth, he collapses next to you in bed, bare arms engulfing you and pulling you closer. As you both lie there, skin to skin, you giggle at your own thoughts.

At the sound, Choso perks up, looking at you in soft amusement. “What’s the matter, my love?”

Ignoring the way your heart fluttered at the nickname, you replied, “I daresay you will be the strongest prince consort in the history of our kingdom.”

The mention of the weak nobles that had ascended the throne in centuries past makes him snicker smugly. “I would agree,” he muses, amused like you. “They would not have been as tall as me, or as strong, or as good in bed—-”

“Choso!” you squealed, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it.

Grinning like a devil, he dodged with ease, catching your wrist and pulling you down onto the bed. Before you could protest, he wrestled himself on top of you, pinning your arms above your head and smothering you in kisses.

After his barrage was over, he turned solemn once more. “I’m serious,” he murmured, his tone softer, more sincere. His dark eyes searched yours, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’ll protect you, stand beside you, love you until my last breath. You’re my queen in every way that matters. And no matter what, I’ll never leave your side again.”

Your breath hitched, his words settling deep in your chest. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you smiled, warmth flooding your heart. “And I’ll hold you to that, my love.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was equal parts promise and devotion. It wasn’t hurried or frenzied, but slow, a tangible declaration of everything you both had endured to reach this moment. Here, in the quiet of your chamber, with his weight grounding you and his lips marking you as his, you found the only place you wanted to be—by his side, now and always.

general masterlist

a/n AHH HI POOKIES!! I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED MY FIRST CHOSO FIC?? let me know if i do him justice this was written with my pussy and me having a specific hyperfixation :3 anyways i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you guys did too :')

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

#•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ #•❤🙏🏽𝑔��𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓈𝑜𝓈𝒶𝓂𝒶😋#ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ #ᥫ᭡•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мσσтѕ #queen aashi

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blkkizzat · 7 months ago

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LIYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH HOW DARE U KEEP THIS FROM ME ALL THIS TIMEEEEE AHHH I FUCKING LOVE HIS BIG GERMAN CAWK

LITERALLY JUST TRYNA BUSS IT OPEN FOR BIG DADDY KONIG

Der Riese und sein Häschen.

The Giant and His Bunny.

Konig x afab reader 18+ mdni

Content: drabble of just absolute pure filth.

a/n: I plea the fifth to any questions comments and concern I am just as shookth.

Content banner: cafekitsune

König’s massive size alone is enough to have your toes curling and your thighs trembling. Oh and the way him manhandles you like you’re a little doll in your fucked out state is absolutely lethal.

Pinning you up against the wall with your legs pressed against his chest and his thick cock bottoms you out as if you cunt sucked he up in one go. “Sorry Häschen [Bunny], your little pussy is just so soaked I slipped~.” His animalistic pace says otherwise, and your incoherent cock-drunk and screams of pure pleasure still isn’t enough for him to know just how good you feel on his cock. He needs to hear some praise, something to let him know that he hasn’t completely fucked you out of all of your senses.

“Häschen [Bunny], you like that hm? You need more Liebling?” He gently grabs hold of your jaw and neck to make you focus on him while his pace grows slower and sensual enough to grab your attention. “C-cum! gonna—onna c-cum! Ahh~ ah ah K-König~”

König pulls out and pinches your clit depriving you of that mind shattering orgasm you were oh so close to having. “I ask you a question Häschen [Bunny]. Those ears of your’s stop workin’ hm?” You pant heavily with frustration, your ears twitch up desperately whilst your clit does the same under his fingers, “sorry ‘m sorry König! I need it plea— please König it’s so fucking good! I wan— I need it pleeeease~” you look up at him with tears of desperation form in your eyes as you can’t help but rut your hips in need of his thick cock deep inside you again. Behind his hood he’s smirking at your desperate attempts while gripping his hand tighter on your ass to keep you still, “Be a good girl and keep still. You don’t me me accidentally slipping into your ass, nein[no]?” The thought did excite you, but knowing what happened the last time he “accidentally slipped in” the wrong hole is what made you stop your movements.

König chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he slides his slick coated cock back inside your swollen cunt. The feeling of your walls welcoming him causes him to moan and the sound of your choked gasps when he bottoms you out turned his moans into a deep growl, bringing the animal inside him back out and the need for your screams and tears.

He pushes you flushed against the wall as he fucks you at a brutal pace, making you claw at his chest, broken screams fall from your lips, and your once denied orgasm is fast approaching. “F-Fuuuck König! It’s too biiiig! Wa-wait wa— oooh fuck I’m gon— Köniiiiig pl-pleeease~ right there right there!” König feels your cunts juices dripping down his thick cock onto the floor, and your pleas are just what he needs to drive his cock deeper in— bullying your poor cervix and hitting all your sweet spots simultaneously. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Take it~ Take it my kleine Hasenschlampe [Little bunny slut]” König’s words causes you to tremble violently as your orgasm gushes out, and his pace flusters as his own orgasm is triggered by your pulsating cunt squirting around his cock. “Mmm Liebling [Darling] you have to do that again for me. You’re a good girl, Nein?

#ᥫ᭡•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мσσтѕ #ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ #•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ

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blkkizzat · 7 months ago

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i gotta give you your tens mamas cause that book acknowledgement at the end had me tearing up ARGHHHH why is this man so frustratingly perfect?!!?!? cause i wanted to killll him at first omg

Author!Nanami is so canon and then you mentioned malaysia!!! Ahhhhh

yeah i would have showed up without panties on too, not just the bra.

also a man telling me to "stay wet" will forever keep me flowinggggg. cause like who he talking to!?!? but then yes daddy at the same timeeeeee.

matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished.

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one.

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews.

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person.

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.”

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.”

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that.

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months.

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke.

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.”

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried.

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago.

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful.

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand.

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?”

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself.

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t.

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before.

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him.

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial.

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him.

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him?

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in.

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid.

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water.

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?”

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events.

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more.

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud.

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum.

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you.

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his.

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body – focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you.

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation.

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling.

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves.

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you.

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response.

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs.

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.”

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered.

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow.

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other.

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.”

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex.

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews.

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too.

#ateeeeeeeee #•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ #ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ #ᥫ᭡•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мσσтѕ

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blkkizzat · 5 months ago

Text

Sorry this review took so long but i read this 3x fkjhdkhjsdkfjhvbs

Love the persephone comparison, its perfect. poor reader is like persephone fhhskvjsdh and gojo and the ward is hell and hades.i totally feel it. Especially in the bathtub scene with the random patient. Like definitely FELT how worn down reader is and im like bitch I get it. i see u.

Ugh, friends like yuko be saints. I knew yuko was gonna get got. But im so curious as to whether gojo feels bad because I wonder if part of his crazy is the fact that he is also battling wanting to possess her to the point of breaking her or wanting to manipulate her to “loving” him. I can’t help but wonder if his apology is genuine or calculated…

Is reader going to propose the idea of her getting a few days off/break to Gojo? I’m so curious as to how he will react. I bet he can tell how stressed she is, but does he prefer her that way cause she will be weaker to him… or will he agree, understanding the bigger picture of she is no longer entertaining the idea of leaving him for good? I can see both especially since he has no qualms drugging her but then again seems to be so inthralled with the fact that she has the capability to not only see him as a monster. It’s her caring nature that attracted him in the first place.

“Still Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.Still Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.”

I LOVE LOVE LOVED this. Like honestly. Prob my fav lines in this ch. This should be canon if isn’t. I can see him needing this control.

he couldn't pass up this opportunity to feel you and closed his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

I would have creamed right there. In fact im not even making it to the bath scene, I would have bent over in the hallway…

Speaking of that whole scene was just NNNNNNNGGGGG. From him being so enthralled by the bubbles to having to SPONGE HIM DOWN!!!

And when I drop the sponge and accidentally grab his cock instead then what!?!?1

“What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?”

What happens if I let his insane ass raw dog nut in me!?!?!?

Reader is stronger than me istg fdhgkjfdhcxkj

BLU!!!! HOW COULD U DO THISSSSS!!?!? HOW COULD YOU TURN ME INTO A GOJO GAGGER!?!? WHAT IS THIS!?!?!1

Crazy, deranged, murderous Gojo got me in a CHOKEHOLD.

PART 3 WHEN1?!?! PLEASE AND THANK U MA'AM!!!

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Session 2 of 10|Previous Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.1k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone would be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone was brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely couldn't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise was needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lacked yourself—otherwise, they wouldn't last a second with Gojo.

It'd be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also didn't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else could take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there it goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she couldn't handle him but because she was your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually cared about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she didn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else.

Burdening her was completely out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'? You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really had to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she could was her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you're quick to blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or were Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth was killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach put the final nail in the coffin as she reminded you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you needed help would be silly because technically it was true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break long ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It was better than nothing because if you couldn't function, Gojo couldn't be cared for.

And when you really think about it, who better to fill in for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock since you started at the ward, She's had your back, sticking with you through tough times at work when staff constantly dipped in and out of the facility like a rotating door after being unable to handle the job.

A real day one.

Next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patiently in check.

It'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest."

She's too kind and right in more ways than one.

"Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend, you think?"

Your eyes roll—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

You don't know whether to joke back or wave her off, softly smiling at her concern instead before nodding. You vow to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges. Almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks on the interstate, hogging the road, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheerful nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers, lulling you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of the melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the foamy bubbles, when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from surprise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike swept into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body said nothing was. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out heading straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean floors due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you were used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you needed to. The truth is painfully clear.

It's disrespectful even to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong, and your heart feels as if it'll burst from your chest any moment now just thinking about it. Crushing guilt wrapped you in its clutches, but it was nothing compared to the pain you might've caused.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, heart beating into your ears making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet with each step until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth becoming suddenly dry mouth when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you as attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a hammer.

Someone as kind as her, so full of light, love, and joy, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil was still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he tugs and pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and you can feel the tense stares. The unspoken judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen?

You don’t know if the murmurs are real or only in your head, but the effect is all the same, making you wish you could completely vanish. You stand like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

Gojo brims with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. As if he's daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face making you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, something...uncertain lurks behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knew he had done something wrong.

Words escape you, as if anything even needs to or could be said. But fear and guilt soon turn to anger and threatens to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust.

You are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself.

Your fists clench as you hold back tears.

What was done was done. And someone needed to pay.

But you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at the results of what happened the last time you decided to punish Gojo. All of your actions, even now, rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

You push down the knot growing in your stomach and turn away to follow the medics.

Your friend needed you more than you needed revenge.

And Gojo didn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it meant risking your job or even your life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbered thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained makes you nervous—you don't want anyone else to get hurt and Gojo knows that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm.

But it's an obviously losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

He sees no one else in the room, eyes locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it'll never be enough. Not even the goddamn military. Gojo...is the strongest, after all.

"Stop this."

Your cry freezes the room, plunging everything into a tense silence.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

You take a deep, shaky breath, silently apologizing to Yuko.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic.

But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes in surprise, amazement even, then smiles.

The submission in your voice sounded better than he could ever imagine. Like sweet music feeding his already inflated ego.

The guards exchange uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, and it's evident that restraining him forever is not possible.

And you know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this was your doing. Your mess to clean up.

You squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling to the guards to let him go. They hesitate, then reluctantly agree and step back, leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

You close your eyes and breathe, hating the idea of looking at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. And everyone else in the ward.

Gojo's satisfied grin says it all.

Let's get this over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head off if he wanted to.

Still Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, surprisingly, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And there was no need to ask why. The entire ward shot daggers at you any time someone walked by now.

She reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then patted your back as if to say, "lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding the half-pill out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering, he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting.

You took a deep breath and placed them both on your tongues, but he couldn't pass up this opportunity to feel you and closed his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed without needing the water you had set aside, a confusing mix of emotions churning as it spread through the rest of your body.

He made good on his promise and swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing look. And damn him, he's probably still thinking about it.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo. A stereotypical hint lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers. And laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around the face him, furious. Debating on whether to slap him, kick him, or knock his teeth out. Or be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water. A move you know would do no good but show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny. You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend."

His laugh fades, smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches.

...the hell is this??

You squint at him.

The words were muttered, reluctant, but there they were, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races when you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue rather than waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Now you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that. Stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he truly meant them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns, along with that smile that twists your stomach into knots.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it was, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind other than frustration.

Damn it, you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your little kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now. Nurse." He finishes with a wink.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory. A fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands, the jarring evidence of him not as invincible as he seems. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," and he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

But it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers into the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and feel sick even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward, lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water but the rustling fabric as he pulls the shirt over his head and pants to the ground sends heat to your cheeks.

He certainly isn't lacking in physique, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. So cute trying to hide away your thoughts.

You toss in his loofah, "Well...go on. Your water's ready." But Gojo can only grin, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Still managing to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the swirling conflict in your easy heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he just refuses to turn off. Everything was always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. He picks up a handful and actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away.

His pale eyes flutter, settling on you in a curious way.

He leans, arms flexing over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with this ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him managing to still be so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society, tf did you think??", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with bubbles.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster. Still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

But then again, this was your job...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption, no matter how twisted they seem.

Loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before gently washing his back.

He sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of his marked skin between the foam and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to the dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won. Evidence of his past before corruption. Everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

This is another first for you, this level of care. Gojo usually just hops into the shower and takes care of himself as you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably gets stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs and making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his lower region, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery so he can handle this himself.

You ignore his comment, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. You're humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

You want to scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

The water feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" his velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, down his sides, rhythm almost hypnotic and making the man's head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, to try to regain your slipping control, but you're in a losing battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

ANd God, he has to bite his lip at your touch that feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again. You've been hit not once, but twice in a day—a new personal record.

Instinctively, you reach up to shield yourself, the loofah slipping from your hand, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream prepares to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand and places a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." He swipes a lone droplet hanging from your eyelash. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, nerves on fire as you're forced into this close proximity for the second time today. Inches away from his face that softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better but he never felt threatened in the first place.

Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach. His finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

"Now," his eyes flicker to your bottom lip, "You're so very good at your job, Nurse." He smoothly pulls it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to my strength, let alone deal with me yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel.

"You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of it, any of this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will fare against me then, hmm?"

Gojo knows he's a prodigy, yet he still manages to surprise himself sometimes, eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter. He almost feels a prick from the daggers you throw with your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that, Nurse," and he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

Gojo slightly tilts his head.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing.

Instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, salacious, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark. Wondering what his idea of "fun" was like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, instead you burn between your legs.

Fuck, you've got to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. Gruffing, you lower to your knees and begin drying the floor of his messes, hoping to distract you from your questionable sanity.

Rustling fabric fills the chamber as he dries off, and when you figure it's safe, you look up to a nude Gojo. Still dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Ah, let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

Standing on your tiptoes to reach it, a sliver of your midriff peeked out, but what captured his attention most was the way the sun rays washed your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of them between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your sentiment was...odd.

This was the first time anyone had cared to do something so simple for Gojo. And the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict and Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

"Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?"

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward now, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off and who could blame her?

You were the anomaly he chose to show mercy to and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova." She cleared her throat and did a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way the stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you scramble to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall taking deep breaths, completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, Yuko, flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's all just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurer in the shadows awaiting your every move.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You find yourself scrolling through your phone, deep-diving the web for information on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

The man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible. Conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own sanity. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax, sleeping eluding you and mind wandering to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling.

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to seem him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr.

to keep it reader-friendly, yk?

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n.

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭.

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou

#•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ #ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ #ᥫ᭡•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мσσтѕ #queen blu #this fic #is wheeeeew #making me FEEEL THANGS #in for men i should not #im totally a gagger for insane gojo #im on my KNEEEES

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blkkizzat · 3 months ago

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imma lose my fuckinfig minddkjdkshbfkjsdhfbvd

ghostface!choso is the ultimate ghostface dear god.

call me📞

#•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ #ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ

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blkkizzat · 7 months ago

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NAH IMMA BEAT CAMI ASS THO FR!!! Reader nicer than me cause who she talking to like that!?! i got yo cunt hoe, id show that bitch who tf the cunt really was (lmfao sorry i am not nice me and cami would have TUSSLED!!! bet she wouldn't have came around there no more. BET!!!)

restaurant au where bakugo is the tattooed kitchen asshole who you LOATHE... but you're also insanely attracted to because he yells at customers who yell at you

#OOOOH THIS GOT ME HOT LMFAO #is was so gewd #•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ #ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ

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blkkizzat · 6 months ago

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yaaaas imma eat tf outta toji ass, yes ma'am i am!!!! like groceries hoe!!!

tysm for this babes. 😩💗

🍑 TIME

A/n: The twerk GIFS got to me! All credit for the GIFS involved goes to @screampied for the Gojo and Sukuna ones, @heian-era-housewife for the Shiu Kong one, @mahgyu for the Geto one, and @blkkizzat for the Toji one. THNX U ALL for the glory that is JJK TWERKING~!

🔞 MDNI CONTENT. JJK men twerking for their lives, sub!JJK men x dom!GN!reader, ass cheeks clapping, ass slapping, ass marking, ass eating, ass abuse, cum time, impromptu ass piece. Also first time writing Sukuna and Shiu so go easy on me.

©️ PLEASE DONT PLAGIRIZE, COPY, TRANSLATE, EDIT, REPOST, AND ETC TO MY FAN WORK. Rather like comment reblog share and follow cause I personally want to reach close to 1k follows on this blog by the end of the year pls n thnx.

SYPNOSIS: OH, TWERKING IN YOUR FACE, BIG ASS MISTAKE~

GOJO with his cheeky ass grin growing every passing moment you demanded he strip those skinny pants down. Boxers included. Shameless heathen. Hanging over the bed's edge as you straddle his skinny thighs. You drum those bare melons like your own personal bongos. Granted, your cheeky bastard asked for it. And those loud passionate mewls of his earned him your red hand prints on his rippling hills. Literally chewing on them peaches came right after, your nose poking out of his ass crack while your mouth sucked his asshole, having him come one too many times against the strewn sheets to both your likings. Stroking his veiny coated dong between his lower valleys made it that much more tasty to suck him off, with his cock cumming again in your very grasp.

"Ohhh, honey loves my buns~! Yes you do – AAAAAH~!"

GETO bashfully blushes, his veiny knuckles pressed hard to his mouth to muffle his grunts and moans of painful pleasure as you spanked, clawed and teethed on those supple succulent peaches quite insistently. This cult head laid on his side along the mat covered platform, clawed the sheets with his free hand as his legs spasmed with those poofy ass pants hung off his calves like pooled up velvet. The ministrations your tongue gives drives him mad. Slobbering and slithering into his hole quite deeply with skillful strokes before suckling downwards. Like his pecs, his peaches smothered your face cheeks. Teasingly nipping at his leaky balls had his dong spasm and spurt in your face. You licking his cum off your face right into his had him squirt longer and harder.

"D – Darling~! Don't ever st — stop – AAH~!"

TOJI the physically gifted super human slash sorcerer killer that he lazily splays along the couch on his ripped tum tum, his ass practically jutting out right in your burning face, browsing his phone casually. Only to literally crush it in two with his giant beefy hand. Straddling his hips, you press his form into the cushions, as you knead and massage his chiseled cheeks, digging your nails in, before sucking aggressively to the point where your lip imprints are scattered along his now reddening bruised skin. His hips buckle sporadically right into yours but with such steel restraint not to literally shoot you up into the ceiling. The couch cushions however were torn to shreds as his stream of feral profanity fills the air as does his guttural carnal shouts of fervor.

"FUCK baby~! Starving for me already huh — NGH SHIT~!"

SUKUNA the literal King of Curses would be as amused as he would be resting his head atop two folded arms along his Malevolent Shrine, letting you lay atop him while you smack his cheeks together just to hear his skin clapping. On top of biting, tugging on his skin between your teeth, and nuzzling them fine giant melons had you on Cloud 9. His other two arms would possessively gripped on your hair to tug on now and then as well as fondle and smack your own bare tussy, his mouths popping out of his palms to layer bloody bite marks on you to get even. Raunchily making out with his a-hole had his giant cheeks suffocate your face, nearly passing out in the process from the light headed state you were left in his clapping cheeks freed you just to smack his double dripping dongs in your face to shower you in cum to lick off yourself. Guess he did get excited.

"Oh human~ To think you would react to that so sinfully~ Interesting~"

SHIU the mediator of dealings between the shady and the shadiest should have known you'd be down for a show and what it would entail at the end. The burnt out cig between his lips would fall out. Strewn across his marble work desk, you lounged in his rolling desk chair as you massaged and groped his peaches to loosen up his fatigued state. Leaving deep imprints engrained into mounds blushing in thanks. Too much workload means easily becoming mush in your titilating touch. Rutting within his fist now coated in creamy thickness as it dripped down his work pants pooled around his ankles. Wiping up some cum from his fist to your fingers, wiping it along his crack, to suck it up sloppily, including right up his hole. That got him moaning out passionately.

"Mmm~! Love, please don't let up now~! So GOOD~!"

#•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ #ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ #im starving #toji's ass for breakfast lunch and dinner

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blkkizzat · 6 months ago

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YOOOO IM SO EXCITED FOR PART 2

Y'ALL PLEASE READ THIS CAUSE YOU GONNA NEED TO FOR WHEN P2 COMESSSS OMFRHFSKJFHKREHF THE MESSSS

THE MESSSS!!!!!

THE MESSS THAT IS ABOUT TO BEEEEE

ITS STILL UP FOR Y/N AND UTAHIME THO CAUSE OF HOW THEY DID MY TOJI

GURRRLLL IM SO EXCITED FHWFERHFWEHURFUE

"....how you pay off all them bills...ooh, her panties."

gojo x baddie!reader

warning explicit sexual content 18+ minors do not interact

♡ .....Bienvenidos a Miami (Welcome to Miami) (link) one-shot, word count: 6K, completed.

♡ .....summary You know how they say friendships never make it pass Miami?

♡ .….tags gojo x reader, baddie!reader, explicit sexual content, drinking, clubbing, lying like shit, Miami, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Remember Why You Got Invited Into The Section, Creampie, Miami Testing Y'all Friendship, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

as always, photo credits to original sourced from Pinterest. ♡

“Hold the fuck on!” You holler in response to the repeated banging on the bathroom door. A line of people had formed behind the door trying to rush y’all out.

“Fuck Utahime don’t sit on the floor it’s disgusting.” You reach under her arms to help support her weight as she continues to throw her stomach up into the toilet.

“I’m so fucked up...” She dry heaves then coughs, tears starting to brim around her eyes. She's crouching down over the toilet, hands gripping the edges of the rim, this was fine, it’s okay, as long as she didn’t get her knees on the sticky wet floor she could wash her hands in the sink and use the sanitizer you keep in your purse.

You hold her hair up as she continues to get the rest of the toxins out of her system, long thick jet black hair wrapped around your knuckles, you two always joke about how if she ever went broke enough she could cut her hair and sell it.

“Wait a fucking minute!” You holler again, more knocks and bangs hitting the door. You were really getting pissed off now, as big as this club was, you knew there were plenty of other bathrooms for them to use. You weren’t leaving till your girl could walk out on her two feet, fuck if it was ignorant…let them say something to y’all when y’all walk out. You dare them.

“I’m so sorry yo…” she cries out…she wasn’t even pissy drunk…you couldn’t figure out why she was throwing up. Y’all barely drunk before y’all got here and only had two henny shots after making it inside. Could have been the food at the seafood bar y’all went too earlier…y’all were in the states so it couldn’t have been the tap water so what the fuck was it?

“It’s cool…just…c’mon…” You pat her back, she’s crying now and you're growing frantic. They’re still banging on the door and she won’t stop. This was a fucked position to be in and you don’t know what to do…if y’all call for help they’d just kick y’all out then y’all would really be fucked up standing on the curb while she’s sick as a dog.

“I can’t…I really can’t…” She babbles out, fat tears running down her face. You love her to death but this was gross, you don’t do throw up…the bathroom was gross, the floor was gross, but you weren’t leaving your girl’s side, she needed you.

“Just get it all out, we can get water—” she hurls again before you could finish your sentence, one final fat spit in the toilet then moves to get up, you let her hair go and steady her as she rises to her feet.

“I’m okay…I’m okay…” She says. The two of you move to the bathroom sink, she still looks somewhat put together, just sweat on her forehead and tear streaks down her face. You gather paper towels out of the dispenser to help clean her up, you have mascara she can use in your bag and she has her lip gloss and lip liner in hers. She didn’t bring her powder to touch up the rest of her makeup but y’all could pull something together before stepping out.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” You step back as she washes her hands. The banging had stopped…she’s okay now…you could finally breathe.

“It’s cool…just get yourself together, take your time.”

“It’s not. I ruined the whole night. We paid so much to get in here I—” She runs back to the toilet to hurl again…fuck!

“Utahime— oh my god what the fuck…” You stress out…you don’t know what to do or how to help her to make this stop.

“I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what’s going on.” She cries out.

“Bitch we’re gonna have to leave…but I can’t call an Uber if you’re throwing up like this…”

“I know I know I just need some time…”

“Sweetheart what time!? We can’t stay in this bathroom, we have to move somewhere or something. Can you walk!?” You don't mean to bitch at her but this was getting ridiculous at this point, too much to deal with, you Don't. Do. Throw. Up.

“Yeah, I can walk…I need food or something to hold this down…my fucking stomach is turning.”

“Bro you don’t need shit else in your stomach. C’mon wash your hands again, we got to go.”

It takes you both a mere ten minutes to finally fix yourselves back together before getting it out, making sure to spray her down with a ton of perfume before leaving. There was a line of people standing to the side. Angry and annoyed looks on their faces, just as you thought y’all would survive the walk of shame you hear someone accuse y’all of holding up the bathroom to do lines of coke…y’all don’t even do drugs. Utahime sours at that, ready to cuss them out but you drag her deeper into the club stopping to lean against a ledge.

There were no couches on this level…just bar counters, a dance floor and paid sections. You don’t want to go down to the lower levels as y’all both paid extra to get up to this floor and y’all couldn’t leave the club till you were sure she was good. You leave her there for a minute to come back with two cups of ice water, one for you and one for her and she drinks it up and keeps it down like a fucking G.

“This dude keeps looking at me…” she shouts over the music, it was fucking booming in inside with bodies everywhere. You crowd around her to try and cover her to prevent whoever it was from looking at her…you knew why though…the two of you wearing the skimpiest shit y’all could find off OhPolly. Could you blame him? No.

“He still looking?” You ask, not wanting to turn back to look in case he takes it as an invite to come over. You were swaying to the beat now, good vibes still in you…Utahime might feel like it was but the night wasn’t ruined for you just yet. It’d take a whole lot more than this to kill your vibe.

“No but…bitch I feel sick again…”

“It’s a whole bunch of people in line now…can you hold it down?” Worry in your voice…if she throws up on the floor y’all were gonna be fucked.

“I don’t know…” She whines out.

“That guy…he’s coming over here.”

You look back…and he was…a tall guy…it was dark in the club so you couldn’t see his face. You turn your back to him quick, hopefully he takes the hint and fucks off. Now was not the time.

“Hey, what’s up? ” He approaches behind you, the smell of expensive cologne wrapping your noise and it wasn’t no cheap shit either.

“We’re cool.” You say dismissively without turning back to face him. Not to be a stuck up bitch in the club but now was not the time to be macking.

“You two look too good to be standing here, how about y’all—”

“I said we’re cool!” You argue back with venom in your voice, this guy was fine as hell too but unfortunately for him he’s being met with your protective side tonight.

“Damn, is she good?” He asks, worriedness laced in his voice…you can’t tell if he actually cares or not.

“If y’all need somewhere to sit and chill I got a section with some of my homies…y’all can’t be standing here like this.”

“We’re good, her feet just hurt.” You lie but they probably do, Giuseppe heels aren’t nothing to play with, but to your dismay she croaks out somewhat of a burp and a cough then spits into her empty cup. C’mon girl…act like a lady, get it together.

“She looks sick…” He carries on.

“She’s not—”

“Sis…please can we…” She whispers out…thighs trembling like they’re about to give in from leaning. You grab her shoulders to help keep her up.

“How many of y’all over there?” You ask, fuck it, you need to help your girl out by any means…all you had to do was just sit and chat his people up till she was good to go. Easy work.

“It’s three of us…my name Suguru by the way. I can call somebody over to get something for her too, it's not a problem. Y’all too cute to be standing over here.”

“Okay yeah…alright that’s cool.” You move to help her up, he steps to the side and takes his arm around her waist to support her. Just as you were about to protest to this stranger touching her you remind yourself why y’all got invited to the section and keep your cool.

He leads the way towards the back side of the club, the baddest bitches sitting up in the booths and you could tell by how the guys they were with were dressed that they had money. The bloody red soles of Suguru shoes as you walked behind them weren’t lost on you either…you peep the watch and chains on his wrist. He was iced the fuck out. Any other day you and Utahime would be all over him but tonight you were on a mission.

The three of you stop at a partitioned off booth where his two boys and a girl he hadn’t mentioned are sitting. There were empty ice buckets, some glasses, tall bottles of liquor and plates of eaten food on the table. The girl eyes the two of you, her gaze isn't cold but it is unreadable. It doesn’t faze you though, you could go toe to toe with her if need be.

“One sec…” He drops Utahime’s waist to explain the situation to both guys who were looking confused as to why y’all were here. You move to her side and you whisper to her to ask if she’s good, she simply nods to you in return. The two guys' expressions shift from confusion to at ease, the girl more so busy touching up her lipstick in a pocket mirror.

Suguru waves you both over now and you two take a seat in the booth across from them.

“This is Sukuna, Satoru, and my other man’s girl Mei Mei. Y’all this is…”

“Utahime.”

“Y/N” you say calmly.

“Sukuna, text back-of-house and tell them to bring gatorade, Pepsi, and something for this one to eat. And some more waters.” Pointing to Utahime, surprisingly she was sitting up nice and perfect as if she didn’t just give you hell like she was about to just die.

“Ard.” He whips his phone out to handle the request.

“I’m actually going to head out now.” Mei Mei says, shifting to grab her purse, a black leather Cassandre YSL shoulder bag. Your preloved Vivienne Westwood bag isn’t coming close to that price tag.

“Be safe!” Satoru says, then turns to the two of you as she scoots her way out, her silver dress shimmering under the low lights as she moves.

Piercing blue eyes now gaze at you over the rim of Cartier glasses.

“Suguru said you two were on the floor standing around…what’s wrong with your friend?”

“She’s just tired.” You lie again, not wanting to reveal to them the truth of the matter. Utahime shifts under the weight of their gaze, not speaking for herself.

“Yeah? He said she looked like she was about to pass out. People calling on staff saying y’all were holding up the bathroom, what’s that about?”

“We were just freshening up…” She speaks up now, her voice nearing a defensive tone.

“Bullshit.” Sukuna says, placing his phone down.

“Cleaning crew said the bathroom looked a mess when y’all got out.”

“Was like that when we went in.” You shoot back, voice still calm and collected, you weren’t looking to pick a fight with these three…you know how to behave. Though, by the way they’re speaking it sounds like they run the club and had cameras watching yall or something…

“Look, we own the club. Just making sure everything runs smoothly. This is a business at the end of the day.” Satoru finishes dropping the subject, your suspicions stand correct. This club wasn’t the only thing that spoke for their wealth…it was also what they had on, each of them wearing designer pieces, immediately you could spot and name a few brands…Chrome Hearts, Louis Vuittion, and Balmain.

“You two from out here? Or just visiting?” Suguru cuts in, pouring a glass of cognac for himself.

“Vacation.” You reply.

“Yeah? Where y’all from and how long?”

“Cali, we leave tomorrow afternoon.” You continue lying in hopes Utahime knows to play along, you learnt to never give up the truth of y’all backgrounds when asked.

“That’s what’s up, what part?”

“San Diego.”

“Yeah where? I sell properties out there, I got a house for myself down in Laguna too.” Sukuna butts in, interested now. You stutter at that, not sure what to say…you don’t know shit about San Diego but you do know about Balboa park so you come up with something quick.

“About a couple minutes from Balboa park, we just moved there. I don't really know the area too well to name anything.” You’re lying like shit now.

“Gotcha.”

“What do y’all do for a living? Flights from coast to coast ain’t cheap.” Satoru chimes in, picking up on your demeanor.

“I’m a lawyer.” Utahime cuts in before you could speak, catching on to the game you’re playing.

“Really!? What do you practice?”

“Divorce law.”

“What school did you graduate from?”

“Brown.” Now see the bitch did go to Brown…for a single semester.

“How old are you?” Sukuna bluntly jumps back in, you could tell by his voice he wasn’t buying it but y’all were gonna keep lying either way. Y’all were Miami, ain’t shit out here just like the bodies of half the girls in this club was real anyway.

“I’m 27.” Fuck. She’s lying like shit now too…she just turned 23 yesterday, y’all came out here together to celebrate her birthday week.

“Can I see your ID?” Satoru asks, coming out more like a request.

“We left them at the hotel…didn’t want to lose them. Happened before.” She lies effortlessly again, the dumbest shit she could have said.

“Well someone’s getting fired…” He leans back letting out a laugh, crossing a leg over the other.

“Sukuna, find out who’s watching the door before our shit gets shut down. I put too much money into this building to get sued and pay fines.”

Sukuna gives you both a look over before getting up and leaving. He looks pissed…but Satoru wasn’t…he was fucking smile as he watches him do as he was told. He’s been getting bitch since y’all two sat down…it was clear who the leader was.

“You a lawyer too?” He asks you.

“No, I don’t work.” You keep your lie simple, you weren’t about to get caught up any further. You and Utahime are gonna have to start rehearsing lies before stepping out now.

“Your friend works but you don't? How do you get your money then?”

“I model.” It wasn’t a total lie, you had an Instagram page full of pictures from photoshoots. You used to date a photographer, a popular one in New York, you stood in as his muse from time to time till you caught his ass cheating with a so-called client.

“Can I see your work?” He passes you his phone unlocked, a black iPhone that somehow feels heavier than the same one in your purse.

“It’s on my Instagram page.” You ask for permission before you start tapping around on his phone.

“Go ahead.”

You open up the app, catching a glimpse at his own page before quickly searching up yours. A gorgeous waitress comes by to drop off the food and drink order right before you can hand him his phone back. He looks over your page in glee…probably at the lingerie and swimsuit photos you have posted. Those were advertising deals you did as a side gig many moons ago.

“Ever considered working out here?” He cocks a brow at you, those icy blue eyes hidden behind those dark frames. Suguru leans over to take a look himself, brows raising at what he sees. He locks his phone to stop him from looking any longer, shoving it back in his pocket.

“It’s our first time here…never thought about it.”

“Could I…” Utahime cuts in, pointing towards the food at the table. A spread of cheese and crackers, cooked chicken, and a small plate of mash potatoes…enough to keep her stomach at bay…she seemed to be better now though.

“Yeah go ahead, here.” Suguru passes her a plate along with opening up the bottle of gatorade and pouring her a cup of the blue liquid.

“Thank you.” She says sweetly as she takes the plate. You catch him smile at her.

“First time in Miami, you seen anything good yet?”

“We’ve just been up Ocean drive and the beach so far…couple bars and clubs the other day.”

“So you thought to bring your IDs there but not ours? I’m offended.”

“We heard through some girls you could get in here without one…and that their friends had there’s stolen here one night so we planned accordingly.”

“The hell…”

“Well someones losing more than their job tonight, Suguru text Sukuna that for me, the fuck kind of club are we running?”

Utahime gives you a look, you never lied so much in your life now and this is snowballing like crazy. Sorry to whoever is about to get their shit rocked.

“Ahh…” Satoru lets out a sigh, neck cracking as he stretches it from side to side. “Business business…didn’t think the club scene could get any more crazier than what we dealt with last year.”

“What happened?” You ask, curious.

“Investigation still open, I’m not at liberty to say. But if your gorgeous friend over here ever needs a new job, I'm well connected with a stellar law firm. They represent my club and my other business. I own an art gallery.”

“You deal art?”

“Precisely.”

“Sounds like you have your hands full, I’d love to come see it one day.” You flirt back now that you’re more at ease with the conversation.

“It would be a pleasure to have you both stop by, a shame you’re leaving so soon. I have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Maybe you two could fly back out here?” Suguru chimes in, moreso speaking to Utahime…it was clear he had his pick tonight and it wasn’t you.

“Should definitely come back out here, I’m sure a girl as gorgeous as you could get work out here instantly. Has a scouting agency come up to you yet?”

“No, we haven’t had many interactions out here.”

“That’s good then. They’re everywhere like rats, posted up on every beach and club. Most are scams, if you catch my drift.” You shudder at the implications of his words. You knew all too well about the risks of modeling…

“Matter of fact, I know a guy that knows a guy who’s the head of an agency. I could set you up with them, they’re global and about to open an office in London.” Your ears perk up at that, he seemed legit so far, maybe he wasn’t bullshitting and even if he was it wouldn’t be a loss on your end.

“That sounds nice, I’d really appreciate it…”

“Of course, Suguru call up Kusakabe for me, I’m sure he’s awake. Tell him I have the most beautiful girl I ever laid my eyes on here. And call Ijichi, see if they have an empty desk at his firm, and if they don’t tell them to bring in another. They’ll have clients coming in droves once this one is through their door.”

You can’t help but blush at that…Utahime doing the same. All that damn lying y’all two done did sprouting legs to now have the utmost most flattering compliment thrown y’all way. Whelp, can’t stop the lies now…

Suguru get’s up to leave for a quieter space at that, a sad expression crossing his face having to depart from Utahime…her eyes trail after him. Satoru catches on but continues to direct his attention to you.

“You two have any plans after tonight? Your friend seems to be feeling better.” You turn to look at her, her eyes give confirmation to you without having to speak. You both know what that meant…an invitation…y’all were close to bagging at least one of their rich asses tonight…but it’s going to take a bit more convincing to go back with them.

“What do you imply?” She takes the lead now, composure calm as she speaks. She might have been a hot mess an hour ago but you both know the way in which she can work a man out of his wallet when it comes down to it. Atlanta March 2022, you’ll never forget it.

“Well, it’s getting late…” He starts off.

“...been here for a couple hours. I’d like to head back to where my boys and I are staying for the time being. We’re actually here on a business trip, just to check on how the club has been doing. Glad I did now that I know we got someone letting girls in without verifying their ages. Utahime I’m sure you know how much trouble we’d get into if authorities found out, you know the law…”

“Would be hell of a case to fight…”

“Where are you three from?” You ask, curious now.

“Japan. Ever been?”

“No…Utahime you’re—”

“I’m Japanese. My family is from Kyoto. I was born here and haven't got a chance to visit again since I was a kid.” She cuts you off before you could tell him.

“Really?” He says surprised. “Suguru is going to get a kick out of this.”

“I’m back.” Sukuna plops down on the sofa before either of you could speak, angrily tossing his phone on the table while doing so. “We switched Toji out for Todo, waited till I caught the fucker about to let four nineteen year olds in. The fuck is he thinking!?”

Both you and Utahime were stunned…no way your lie was true…but then again this was fucking Miami. Anything goes out here.

“Hey Sukuna, get this…this one tells me word on the beach is that our club doesn't check IDs. God knows how long this has been going on for.” Pointing to you now.

“You fucking serious?”

“So serious. Go ahead, tell him what you told me.”

“We met some girls on Ocean drive and they told us this club doesn’t card. That’s how they got in their first few times…they said they were twenty at the time.” Lies lies lies and more lies. At least you didn’t feel guilty about it anymore.

“Well fuck me then… better hope and pray we don’t have papers already coming our way.”

See…lying does work sometimes. The two of you likely just saved their club from going under or worse…being raided.

“Hey…they're both not answering…but I left a message. Sure they’ll see it in the morning.” Suguru swings back around, taking a seat next to Utahime, resting an arm above where she’s sitting.

“Did you tell them what I said word for word?”

“Uh— no. Is ‘two pretty girls’ enough?”

“Suguru, words have meaning…these two ladies are far more than pretty, pets like cats are pretty, these two are gorgeous. Matter of fact, she speaks Japanese, her folks are from Kyoto! Don’t we love Kyoto? Your summer vacation home there was featured in Architectural Digest once right? Or was that Metropolis?”

Suguru eyes light up at that, followed by saying something in Japanese to her and she replies back flawlessly to prove she actually could. Your ass is stunned by the exchange…you can’t understand shit being said but you could tell from the way he was looking at her that Utahime just talked her way into a fucking bag! Attagirl!

“Hear that Sukuna?”

“Yup.” Busy on his phone now, uninterested in their conversation that was likely getting flirty by the way she was blushing and giggling now. An arm comes around her waist pulling her in, you avert your eyes letting them have their moment.

“Ticket hit!” Sukuna shouts, the most excitement you’ve seen from him thus far.

“What team?” Satoru asks, akin to talking about stocks at the country club.

“Raptors, 6k off it too.”

“Got 9 off of the Lakers the other day, sure you’re going to beat my goal of reaching 20k in winnings by the end of the month?”

“Suguru at 17 right now, I been threw that towel in. I’m just betting for lunch money now.”

Man Utahime…you hope she’s hearing this! Because these men got fucking money.

“Ha! Well then I’ll quit too now then, I may have lost my ticket tonight but in the presence of these two beautiful ladies I’m a winner. Hey Sukuna, cut them both a thousand, they just saved our business from that slime Toji, they earned it.”

Hold on. Pause. You two bitches came down to Miami with 200 dollars in your pockets now you’re coming up on a stack all off a fucking lie? This city is actually unreal!

“What’s your apple pay?” He asks, not even batting an eye. You gesture for his phone to put your number is…but it’s not his that you want.

“Wisconsin number?” He asks curiously after taking the phone back from you.

“Yeah…I have a crazy ex. Had to change it to somewhere he wouldn’t think of dialing.”

“Smart cookie.” Is all he says before hitting your phone with a hefty apple pay payment.

“What’s hers?” “She doesn’t use apple pay, you can send it to me again and I’ll make sure she gets it.” You speak for her, needing to conceal her actual phone number to ensure they don’t find out where either of you live.

“Gotcha.” Is all he says sending the payment again, $2,000 being enough to cover rent twice over and y’all two didn’t even have to fuck for it. A smile crosses your face now, you feel like taking shots.

“How about we take shots?” You say with cheerfulness in your voice.

“Let’s!” Satoru says, reaching over for the bottle of D’usse and pouring five glasses each.

“No more for her, she’s cut off.” Suguru says, taking the shot glass out of her hands, and like a pliant little thing she knows to be, she doesn’t protest.

“Too not getting shut down.” Satoru says. You all repeat it cheering. The four of you knock back a couple of shots, liquor hitting your system soon after. The vibes and music was great, the two of you were having a great time.

The atmosphere settles down an hour after, tiredness starting to kick in. Sukuna had left after the third shot, something about having to meet up with his wife. You had swapped seats with him now and were sitting next to Satoru whose hand had been trailing up your thigh, he tells you the rings he wore were Tiffany, so you tell him you always wanted a necklace from there, he tells you stick around long enough you could get one, and that’s all you needed to hear to keep your glued to your seat as he pours you shots of Hennesy.

You’re drunk at the end of it all, not pissy enough to black out but enough to stumble out of the club…and still you deserve a gold medal for not tripping in your heels in the parking garage. Large warm hands guide you into a sleek black Bugatti, Utahime sober in Suguru’s Lambo, he said they’d follow you both to the high-rise they’re staying at.

Satoru hands continue to grip at your thighs as he drives, this was an insanely reckless thing to be doing, going back to this still stranger's place, but all the boxes had been checked. They didn’t just talk money, they showed it, so this was either going to go right or very left.

His hand reaches higher up your thigh close between your legs now, you spread them open giving him access to your pussy and his fingers go to rub at it. What can you say…henny goes straight to the pussy and you were already wet from the grips and grabs back at the section.

Your friend Shoko back home texts you asking you how the trip is going, too drunk to explain what’s happening you simply tell her that you both are “outside outside!”, and she sends you back a string of laughing emojis telling you to be safe.

Satoru's car continues to roar down the highway, Miami so beautiful at night yet not coming anywhere close to the man beside you.

Your eyes close, tiredness finally setting in.

The next thing you know you’re being helped out of his car and walked into a lobby, Utahime and her new beau arriving soon after. She looks so happy in his arms, you love her so much, more than anything. Your ride or die for life.

The four of you take the elevator up to the penthouse floor, being met with the most insane flat that you’d only see in movies. You kick your heels off at the door after stepping in, Utahime already being led elsewhere down a hall. Suguru gives space to let her shower before retreating into a room with him.

Floor to ceiling windows make up the walls as you walk around the place, Satoru soon coming to hand you a glass of wine you happily accept. You barely drink it though…already having enough. Miami is beautiful from above, lights twinkling and the moon making the ocean shimmer.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist whilst nuzzling his face in your neck.

“Yes.”

“But not as beautiful as you.” Is all he says before hooking a finger under the strap of your top teasing to take it off. He takes your glass then, placing it on the nearest table he then walks you into the master bedroom. A beautiful space only you could once ever dream of resting your head in.

“Model for me?” He asks, softly pushing you down to sit at the edge of the bed as he stands in front of you, lifting your head up by chin to look up at him. You don’t remember him taking his glasses off, eyes seeming to glow under the light of the moon.

You move to strip your outfit off, revealing a lace strapless bra set with a matching thong underneath. You watch as his plump lips curl up into a smile.

“If only I had a polaroid…” is all he says before taking out his phone. You move back further up the bed and he follows you on his knees already positioning the camera to snap pictures. You pose as he takes a million and several more, and before you know it he’s throwing his phone to the side and grabbing at your body to bring you close.

His lips quickly follow after, leaving kisses on your neck down to the crevice of your cleavage. Your bra soon makes its way off landing somewhere on the cold polished floor.

“I've wanted this since the moment I saw you…” he whispers between kisses, fondling your boobs as he makes his way down your stomach. Fingers come to pull down your thong, your pussy now free from what shouldn’t even be considered underwear.

Spreading your legs apart he takes a finger collecting the fluid now building up at your entrance, pulling his hand back he brings his coated fingers up to your lips and you happily take them in your mouth. He kisses you then right after, hot and wet with a lot of tongue.

“You’ve been such a delight…let me treat you.” He says, pulling off his top and unbuckling his belt to drop his pants. If he told you his body was sculpted by Michelangelo himself you’d believe him. Your eyes trail down his figure stopping at the bulge in his boxers, sobering up a bit from the sight of it. Lifting yourself up you bring your hands to curl around the band, looking up to slowly pull them down and he takes both hands cupping your face and kisses you deeply.

Stepping out of his boxers, he then moves you onto your back again, this time your arms going up above your head as he takes your body.

Fucking Satoru is the closest you think you’ll ever come to heaven before death…every whine, moan, gasp, and call of his name swallowed up by his mouth on yours. Each thrust of his hips knocks the air out lungs yet he breathes life back into you. His touch though isn’t anything but soft, a never ending shower of compliment and praise spoken into your ear. How beautiful you are, how good you feel, how amazing you are, you think you hear words pertaining to loving you thrown somewhere into the mix but you have to be imagining things. How could he? He just met you.

Your climax soon rushes over you rougher than the ocean that the building overlooks, and it’s then you realize how much you want to savor this moment, to melt away in his arms as he now cradles you close to his chest. You’d give your all to have one more night with him.

Your chest rises and falls as you steady your breathing as you come down from your climax, you take notice of the feel of fluids between your thighs and under you, and as you look down you see it’s his cum coming out of you. You always wondered how the richest and most accomplished men end up trapped with baby moms, and if it weren’t for you already on birth control he’d be just that. Having him as a father sounds nice, but in practice you know raising a child, his child in fact, could be fucking hell.

You turn to him then, climbing up onto his chest laying your head down to hear his heartbeat. Fingers come to card through your hair, he speaks up soon…and it’s his choice of words that come nothing louder than a whisper that makes your entire body go rigid.

“I know your friend isn’t a lawyer.”

You don’t know if you should respond or move away, his grip tightens in your hair lifting your head up to look him in the eyes. You weren’t trapped, you could get up and leave if needed, but you don’t, you stay put gearing up to take on whatever humiliating accusation that will eventually reveal to both of you the liar that you are.

“And you don’t live in California. The card you used to get in, New York zipcode.”

“How do you know?” Is all you could ask, the jig was already up.

“Sukuna ran the cameras and pulled the card info from the POS, texted me right before we left. Your full name is Y/N too.”

“I know you’re not stupid, but your friend might actually be. Wanna know how I know she’s not a lawyer, or at least that she didn’t go to Brown?”

“How?” He finally lets your hair go, folding his arm behind his head as he sits up.

“Brown doesn’t have a law school. I was once an exchange student there.”

“Shit.” Is what you stop yourself from saying, you should get up to go grab her ass and leave while he’s still calm.

“How old are you really, and please let it be a number that’s not going to get you kicked out.”

“How old do I look?”

“Well you act like you’re at least over 25, but you look–”

“I’m 22.”

“Jesus fuck…” He winces, “...you’re a fucking kid.”

“Kid? How old are you? 30s?” Annoyance in your voice, you didn’t have any right to be but this kid just worked two grand out of his hands like it was nothing.

“28 and watch your mouth, I’d hate to see your pretty ass get fucked up out here.”

Pretty…he had said pet’s were pretty.

“Fuck you!” You get up now, gathering your clothes up off the floor to put them back in. You were out of here and you needed to get Utahime quick before she gets caught up next.

“You call me a kid but you just nutted in me? You’re the fucking idiot.” Getting your thong and skirt back on, working on the top next.

“I keep Plan B in the bathroom if you need it.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.” You nearly spit at him as you say it. “I’m leaving.”

“Yeah I can clearly see that ya little liar. Keep the child if you want, my god son Megumi could use another sibling.” He says it like you need it. You’d bleed him dry of child support if you could.

“Kill yourself.” You don’t even look back at him when you say it, too embarrassed to face him, you slam the door behind yourself to find Utahime sitting on the small chaise in the hall all put together and back in her heels as if she never undressed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Let’s go!”

“No wait he called us an Uber–”

“We can fucking wait downstair.”

The two of you make your way back down to the lobby, your hands trembling with anger and disgust. Utahime stops not once from asking you to tell her what happened and reason as to why you were so upset.. The Uber pulls up soon after, a jet black Escalade. The two of you hop in, she tells the driver it’s from Suguru and he simply say’s. “Thank you, but I know.”

You sit back now trying to calm yourself down but all you could think of is how gross you felt, his seed still inside of you as you hadn’t had the chance to do away with it. Utahime turns to you then, bambi eyes looking all but innocent. She turns her purse to you, the Louis pochette you spent a year saving up to give her for Christmas one year.

“Look what he gave me.” She pulls out a Piguet, the same silver and diamond one Suguru wore. The watch glimmers under the light of the lamp poles as the car drives down the road. Your jaw nearly falls off your face.

“He told me I can sell it and go back to school if I want! He’s was actually so nice, we didn’t even fuck I only gave him head and he said we can come back soon. He didn’t care that I lied about being a lawyer and all that shit. He told me to stay in school and he’lll make me his wife if I graduate.”

“Utahime…”

“Bitch do you know how much this shit cost? Fuck school, I’m selling this and buying out the first mall we walk into!”

“There’s no way that’s real.”

“Oh no no no bitch…this is real! Did Satoru give you anything?”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe? What do you mean?”

“He nutted in me…”

“Oh my god— a baby! He put a fucking baby in you!?”

“Utahime, I would never keep–”

“Bitch are you out of your fucking mind!?” Her eyes nearly popping out of her head, all she could see were dollar signs on you now.

“I think so…”

Fuck Miami. Fuck that club. Fuck Satoru. Fuck a baby.

At least your friendship survived.

#FR THO READ THIS!!#•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ #ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ #ᥫ᭡•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мσσтѕ

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blkkizzat · 3 months ago

Text

me reading this like:

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫! | fushiguro tōji

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Not only are you drunk on a Friday night, but you’re a drunk, closeted succubus who is, unfortunately, under the care of the hot neighbor under your roof! Would you ruin the mood if he found out your little secret? You don’t even wanna know!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab/fem! succubus reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! reader + Toji are neighbors - age difference; reader is in late-20s + Toji is mid/late 40s - crushing/mutual pining - drug/alcohol usage - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping) - Daddy kink - sqǔitïng - anal play (m! receiving) - 69 + backshots + spooning + cowgirl positions - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - creampies - praise kink - pet names (baby, doll, dollface, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie) - implied marathon sex - mention of drool/spit, tears, and cum - not proofread; will do l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.8k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pulled this story out of my ass; I literally spent a whole single DAY dedicating to writing it. please enjoy, and tysm for 11.9k loveliesss ☆ love and appreciate u all !!

“…shit.”

There’s no way.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

Of all days for this to happen.

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

Tonight was already an eventful night, with the full moon shining brighter than the stars. Life has put you so fast in a whirlwind that you can’t recall the last time you permitted your body to unwind. Can you blame yourself, though? From moving to a new neighborhood and scoring a new job, things have kept you undeniably busy for the past few months. And not too mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit and lacking a drive for social interaction.

That’s precisely why your old college besties – Shoko, Utahime, and Yuki – pulled you out of your hideyhole and encouraged you to join them this Friday night to have some fun! “C’mo~n, lighten up! No more thinking about work or whatever; have some fun!” “Yeah, y’know you’re my biggest drinking buddy. Now, hurry up and share this cocktail with me!” The ladies pressure you to relax and enjoy the start of the weekend with some good drinks and delicious food. And, you hate to admit, it worked like a charm – the longer the hours went, the more you felt free as if all the weight holding you down had been lifted.

The only problem is, like all good things, that it had to end and that you had to go home. Now check this out: 1) you left your car at home because, again, you were rigorously dragged out of your abode by your college companions. 2) You were all pretty much drunk, enough for neither one of you to drive on the road. And 3) you guys are in the city, and catching a lift is not only a gamble but SUPER expensive! Guess that’s what you get for choosing a Friday night to free-ball.

However, when hope was lost, and you wouldn’t be in the comfort of your bed tonight, you received a text on your phone, and you could practically hear the angels sing in the heavens above!

Recent Message from: Neighbor Fushiguro

Yo. You home? I’m out in the city picking up stuff for the house. Need anything?

Thank God for neighbors, am I right? The chances of someone you know being within the same vicinity of you may be low, but never zero! Did you feel bad that you texted back saying you needed a ride back to your house? Sure. Did you feel extra bad when you asked a huge favor for him to drop your friends off at the nearest hotel? …Yeah.

But luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. The only thing you had to endure was him teasing you about your little outing (with the help of your friends in the back of his truck) and your tipsy persona. “Never took you fr’ one who drinks.” He scoffs while putting you down on your couch after slinging you over his shoulder because you complained about your feet hurting. Damn heels! “Neither one who gets drunk.”

“It wasn’t my fauuu~lt,” you whine with a significant stretch while your neighbor roams around. “My fwiends, they forced me to–hic–to do it…”

“Mm, do your ‘fwiends’ always push you over to do things?” He shouts from the kitchen; you can hear cabinets opening and closing.

“When you’re the youngest of the group, they do.”

“Well, maybe I gotta get to know ‘em so they can push you into goin’ out more. And maybe you can quit avoidin’ me when I invite you over.”

“I don’t try to avoid you!” You sprout defensively. “And quit teasing me, Toji! You’re supposed’ta be on my side; I’m the victim here.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say.” Heavy footsteps draw nearer to where you are, and your heavy eyelids open to see a hand stretching towards you with a glass of water. “I’m here takin’ care of ya now, aren’t I, lil’ victim?”

A smile pulls your lips as you take the glass. “Thank you,” you express before a sip, and your neighbor lifts your feet to sit on the cushion beside you.

“Y’re welcome,” he places your legs on his lap, grabbing the remote to turn on the television.

You haven’t been in this neighborhood long enough to say you have friends. Don’t get it wrong; everyone you contacted has been lovely and friendly, and some have opted to help with your move! But aside from the casual greetings in the morning or the nods of acknowledgment, you barely know people who scratch the surface of acquaintanceship. Not to mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit.

…But, there is one neighbor you could say you’re pretty close with. Someone nice. Someone dependable…Someone attractive that you’re on a mission not to stare too much.

Toji Fushiguro lives two houses down from you across the street. Remember I mentioned you had people assist with your move? This widowed, middle-aged man was one of the nice handymen who aided you and your friends with your boxes and heavy furniture. You remember it like yesterday, seeing this brawny man stroll up your driveway on the sunniest day of June. You nearly mistook him for an Olympic athlete.

“So, y’re the one movin’ ‘round here?” The calm baritone of his voice was unforced. “Nice to know there’s a cute face on the newbie. Need any help?” It’s how he asked – so sultry and alluring you almost spaced out before nodding absentmindedly to his request for aid, hoping he didn’t notice you watch how the scar of his lip moved as he spoke. “Welcome to the neighb’rhood, kid.” Rarely do you have butterflies running amok in the pits of your guts, but they were challenging to deal with that day.

And it doesn’t get any better from that day forward. No matter how hard you wished not to run into this immediate crush of yours, he would somehow wheedle his way into your path. It started slow, exchanging hellos or good mornings whenever he left for work or you took the garbage out. Then came the “Want me to do y’r lawn fr’ ya?” or the “House down the street’s havin’ a little barbecue, wanna get to know people?” You thought moving away from the busy city life would die things down. However, Toji making your head race every chance he gets wasn’t a move you could envisage. Think about how you felt the day he asked for your number to keep in contact “fr’ emergencies…or if ya need anythin’, shoot me a call,” how your heart jumped to your throat! Oh, the girls never stopped teasing you when you told…

Nonetheless, you can’t deny how much help he’s been. Well, outside of that, just being a great neighbor all around. Besides being an absolute succor, he’s an outlet you can come to for anything. Whether for the house, the community, or just personal conversations, Toji’s someone you can admitlingly say you’d depend on. With trust built from day one, sharing pieces of yourselves to break down barriers, it’s safe to say that he is undoubtedly a friend who made your decision to move a worthy risk.

…Yet, what’s even more risky is being alone with him, something you do everything you can to avoid. Why? Look at him! Would you trust yourself to be anywhere with this man alone? Of course not! This is why tonight is the riskiest night you’ve ever bestowed upon your drunk self.

“You got somthin’ to say?”

“Huh?” You perk to reality, anxiousness filling you once you realize you had been staring at the man. “N-No, I’m sorry.”

He stifles a snort, grabbing your feet to massage them from the pain. “Oh, wanna act quiet. You were all bubbly in the passenger seat with y’re friends. Now y’re all shy because y’re stuck with me, huh?”

“T-That’s not true!” A lie; he was right on the mark. Your heart has been beating nonstop once he sat next to you. “It’s just that…I’m sorry for making you drive and pick me and the girls up.”

“Nah, don’t apologize,” his focus is on your feet as he kneads and rubs the sole of your foot. “Told ya I was around the area doing some shoppin’, so pickin’ ya up on my way back was easy.”

You take another sip of your water. “Shopping?”

“Mm, my kids are down here for the weekend, so I had to go out fr’ a bit and grab shit fr’ my daughter.” Ah, yes, Toji is a father; you remember him telling you about his two children in college, a junior and a sophomore. “They’re at the house right now; saw ‘em after I dropped stuff at the house before bringin’ ya home.”

You hum. “Sorry for stealin’ you from them for a bit.”

He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “Please, they probably don’t even know I’m gone. They’re big kids. Plus,” your breath hitches when emerald eyes trail to you. “Now I get to finally have you all to myself, no curvin’ me and whatever this time.”

“I’m not tryin’ to curve…”

“Yeah, yeah.” He goes back to massaging your feet.

“…Thanks again, Toji. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” Your abdomen flexes at the use of the nickname. “You know I always got you…Say, did you hit y’r head somewhere?”

You blink, eyebrows furrow. “No? Why?”

He points to his temple. “Because I see like a lump right here.”

You mirror his movements, your hand touching the spot he’s pointing. And your fingertips meet with a lump on a location that sparks too much familiarity. You gasp aloud and cover the lump with your hand, the other covering your other temple.

Oh, no.

Black eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”

Play it cool! “Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine! You’re right; I probably hit my head somewhere while out.” You take this time to remove your legs off the comfort of Toji’s lap and stand up from the couch. “I’ll put something on it to stop the swelling.” You can also sense something aching down your lower back at that moment. Oh, hell no!!

“Ya sure? Need me fr’ any—“

BZZZZ!! BZZZZ!!

Toji’s cut off from the vibration of his phone in his jeans, pulling the device out to see that someone called “Megumi” was calling. Good, a distraction!

“N–No, no, I’m good from here.” You say through gritted teeth, the alcohol taking effect and making your stance a little buzzy to uphold. “J-Just stay here, I’ll be back!” You don’t even wait for his approval, turning on your heel and heading out of the living room to the stairs. Your body feels wobbly with every step you take, but you don’t pay it any mind because you can feel the lumps beneath your palms increasing. “God, please, not now, not today…!”

You march as fast as you can to your bedroom, nearly stumbling on the floor as you haul ass to your bathroom door. You do a terrible job watching your footing fall after rushing to turn the lights on, and stuff from the counter falls because of the impact. But you didn’t care, shuffling up so you could look at the mirror. And the sight you see fills you with immediate dread.

Horns are the first thing you see from either side of your head; the tips curl as if to form a crown but point to the ceiling. Your eyes are no longer human-like, pupils shaped like slits as if morphing into a reptile. And your ears get horizontally pointier. “…shit.”

You then lift your skirt and tear a hole in your pantyhose above the hem of your panties, and your fear quadruples at the sight of something long and slithery protruding out of the hole. A long tail with a pointy end; you lose your mind. “Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

It’s then you realize why this is happening: you had forgotten to take your daily supplements that are meant to subjugate these features of yourself. You’ve been taking them for the longest time before you moved into this neighborhood, so you’re used to your typical human facade. Now, seeing these parts of yourselves is the very LAST thing you need right now!

And then something hits you, an unsettling feeling that you’re too scared to confirm. Your eyes travel down to your shirt, your hands hesitantly pulling the bottom tucked into your skirt and lifting to reveal your navel. You then tug the top of your skirt to expose a spot you’re honed in on the mirror. And the urge to scream grows tenfold once you see a black marking on the lower part of your belly.

A womb tattoo!?!?

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

“YO, HEY!” And just when it couldn’t get worse, you hear Toji coming up the stairs and beelining for your open bedroom door. Wait, no— “I heard screamin’ and a big ‘boom,’ you alright? Where are y—“

Your neighbor stops dead in his tracks once he appears in front of the bathroom opening; his concerned expression shifts to an immediate neutral deadpan. He stares at you, and you stare back at him, the silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. A ring fills your eardrums, dissociating from this entire scene and all its complications.

You want to cry. Maybe scream, throw up, or just straight up die on the spot.

Because this wasn’t the night for someone to find out you’re a succubus.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…”

“…So, what are you?”

Not even concealing your face in your pillow can hide you from the eventual questions of Toji, who sits idly on the corner of your bed. You cringe internally, never thinking this dilemma would befall you. The point of moving was to turn a new page in your life and leave the past behind with the city. Now, you are shriveling on top of your bed like a moody teenager, and your neighborhood crush is here to witness your depression.

“…What happened to your phone call?”

“It was my kid. I told him to lock the door since I’ll be out a little longer. Don’t try and deflect,” his blunt answer has you descend further to your inner turmoil. “How come I never seen these horns before?”

You sigh heavily; there’s no point in trying to divert now. “…I take supplements that hinder any features of my succubus appearance so I can look like an average human for the rest of the day.”

“Daily?” He sees you nod through his peripheral. “Succubus…the hell’s that?”

“Basically, I’m a demon that…that…” Yeah, no, let’s not finish that. “Never mind.”

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

“D-Don’t worry about it, it’s not—“

“Look here,” he speaks to you with a stern tone, a hand coming to your waist to shove you a bit. “I went ahead and picked y’re drunk butt up, made sure ya don’t puke up a storm, and now y’re here looking way different from before. The least you could do is explain.”

God, to be lectured by a human – totally humiliating…! “…I’m a demon that gets energy from…se–….sexu, uhh………..sexualactivitywithhumanbeings.”

The silence that trails after your ramble is beyond awkward.

“Oh.”

…

“Oh.”

God, just kill me right now!

The older man forces a cough. “So, you…have sex every day?” You can practically sense the tiny hint of discomfort from prompting that question.

“W-Well, I used to when I was younger. But I haven’t really…done it in a couple of years.” Jesus Christ, why is it so embarrassing to admit to someone other than yourself? This is the literal worst!

“Is that bad?”

“It’s, uhh…It can be?”

“So, why haven’t you done it?”

“Because…!” You snap your face out of your pillow and finally allow yourself to breathe correctly. “I just…I don’t have time like I used to anymore, and using my powers to make people forget afterward can get tiring. Also, the more times I do it, the more my drive gets intense from the last. The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

“…Well,” Toji turns to face you. “Have you ever had the urge recently?”

“I-” Woah. That question came out of nowhere, almost answering it without proper consideration. “Wh–What do you mean by that…”

He shrugs. “Like—you know what I mean—like, even though you try to suppress it, do you still have those urges to do…ya know, it?”

Things get a little uncomfortable here; now you wish you kept your face in that pillow. Tojo’s gaze on you is distinguished — gentle yet stern, matching his demeanor. He's calm and calculating and is waiting for your response to his strangely personal question.

“I…I, I don’t know.” It was another lie.

“Why’re you lyin’?”

“I’m not…!” Toji clicked his teeth with a face.

“Fine, answer me this then. Have ya ever thought of doin’ it since ya moved here?”

Yup, this question was far worse than the other. His words echo inside your noggin, bewildered with every syllable relaying. And the widowed man lifts his brow from the lack of an instantaneous answer. You open your mouth, but words fail to aid you, your tail shying away behind your shadow. “I-I…I don’t—“

“Ever thought of me?”

“Toji!” You shout defensively. Sure, it might’ve been out of line to ask. However, it’s the fact that he’s breaking your exterior with every question — because of how on-the-mark he is. You could never prepare yourself for that inquiry, the heat on your face growing more unbearable. How could he know of the frenzy he puts you through just for existing?

“I’m not dumb.” You peep Toji, turning his torso and facing his entire front in your direction. “You think I don’t notice how often you try to push me off when I invite ya over or know when y’re lookin’ at me when you think I’m not aware’?” He dents the bed with his added weight, and you forget to breathe, watching him inch closer. “Or act all shy and cute when I got you to myself?”

You gulp, your brain short-circuiting at the feeling of Toji’s palm on your thigh. There have been countless nights where you’ve thought of your neighbor more than once, indulging in fantasies you could never speak of to a soul, especially Toji himself. To let the man know of the dirty things you’d want him to say to you, the names you wish him to call you, the erotic things you’d like him to do to you — death is the only option necessary not to let that happen. Unfortunately, he seems to have a good idea now that he’s cornered you like this, and you’re too stunned to utter a word.

“It’s okay, though,” he whispers low now that he’s close to your face, and you have to hold back on letting out a yelp when his hand comes to hold your face, his index finger toying with your sensitive earlobe. “‘Cuz I love it when y’re all timid, can’t even look me in the face…Like now.”

You try to avert away from him, but his thumb brings your chin back to him. “Toji, please,” his name feels forbidden to say all of a sudden.

“Tell me ‘no’.” His nose brushes the tip of yours, and you chew your lip. “I’ll stop right now and leave, let you deal with this y’reself…Or,” he ghosts to your ear, and you quiver. “I’ll stay with you and treat you to what y’ve been scared to ask fr’.”

“Toji, wait,” Fuck, you can’t remember the last time you had your ears so keen, his breath brushing it enough to compel you to meltdown.

“Say ‘no,’ princess.” You’re locked under his forest-green orbs, and you swear you could hear your heart hammering your chest. “Or I’ll treat you right tonight.”

Perplexed eyes can’t move anywhere else, and your lips are wet from licking them without knowing. Is this really happening…? An inquisition you had no time to answer for yourself once Toji closes the gap, centimeters nearer with every millisecond.

I…can’t…

His face draws near, and your eyes reflex to close.

I don’t…want to…

Toji pulls you in for a gentle kiss; your thoughts radio silent after the contact of his scarred lips on yours. No shot. Your neighbor was kissing you right now — there’s no way!? This had to be a dream…! This is truly a wild night: not only are you tipsy to the noggin, but your neighborhood crush has found out your secret, and now you’re kissing that exact crush in your room?? Your muscles go tense at what is occurring.

He peppers your lips with kisses, forced to catch up with him as he claims your lips, a palm snaking to the back of your head to keep you steady. He licks your bottom lip, chewing gently to prompt the softest gasps out of your mouth. “C’mon, baby,” he coos to your sensitive ears. “Relax wit’ me.” You nearly melt at the lick of your helix as his free hand courses from your chest to your waist. The brush of his fingers onto your tail makes you jolt.

“Toji, wait,” you mutter under your breath as he nibbles on your pointy ear, your hands gripping the back of his black wife beater. “D-Don’t; I’m so sensi—Nmmm…!” Jesus, the moan you held back! Toji trails his mouth to your chin down to your neck to suck on your skin. And your lower half throbs harder. “Ahhh…hahhh…”

He returns his lips to yours; this time, his tongue runs on your teeth vigorously to seek entry. You submit after a chew to your bottom lip, whimpering as the older man inserts his wet muscle to greet yours. Surreal, isn’t it, to be tongued down by your neighbor? You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol, the twitches between your inner thighs, or the flick of his tongue and the sound of his purrs that have your face getting hotter.

And fuuuuuuck, he’s such a good kisser — scratch that, he’s an AMAZING kisser! You’re practically turning into putty in the palm of his hands as he lips you, tilting his head to a proper position with a soft push to your face as he deepens the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, and you mewl, helplessly quivering when he teases the muscle with nibbles. Your waist has a mind of its own while it sways involuntarily, rocking as you sink into the zealous kiss. He’s not overpowering you in any way; if anything, he’s so overwhelmingly comforting, his hand caressing your cheek tenderly, and soft noises of lips smacking and breaking apart bounce one after the other.

Then, you shrill unexpectedly. “…!! Mmahhh! T-Tojiii, d-don’t—don’t touch…Haahhh…”

“Oh? Well, lookie here.” Your ears perk at Toji’s chuckle. Unbeknownst to you, distracted by the intense kiss, your neighbor sneaks his hand under your skirt and touches your private zone shielded by your pantyhose, fingers pressing up on your vulva area. “All we did is kiss, and ya already got your panties wet?”

Embarrassed? Of course, it’s been so long since you were touched like this and out of practice. Now, your repressed emotions start to crumble out of their straightened form the more Toji’s middle finger rubs on your panties. And let’s not even mention your thighs motioning to ride on the digit, your dignity starting to disintegrate. “Ohhh, Toji…”

“Mmm? What is it, sweetie?” He nuzzles to your neck after licking and sucking on your chin. “Feelin’ good down there?” He curls his middle and forefinger to push. “Got ya all excited?” He receives a confirmed hum. “Tell me how y’re feelin’.”

You gulped thickly, your breathing shaking. “I-I’m feeling—shit…” he laughs lowly at your swearing. “Nnnm! You’re making me feel…so hot.”

“I can tell, you’re twitchin’ like crazy right on my fingertips.” His fingers move into a circular motion, and your mouth goes agape. “Fuck, man…Hey, hold on, I wanna do somethin’.”

Toji removes his fingers from under your skirt before you can tell, the heat between your legs going tepid as he withdraws from your figure to lay his back on the bed. But before that, he unzips and loosens his jeans to his butt. A noticeable tent of his boxer briefs has your lips locked to each other, and your eyes widen when he subtracts the material. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more crazier, you are awake to witness the display of Toji’s erection in real-time.

How long has it been since you’ve seen a real-life, living, and breathing dick before your eyes? You honestly can’t recall that; the responsibilities of human life have made you grow numb to your demon necessities that it no longer feels innate. However, the sight of your crush’s solid, girthy, excited cock is marveling. How your mouth waters as you ogle at it is borderline humiliating, eyes glued to the uncut tip.

“Like what ya see?” He asks smugly, kicking his jeans and briefs off and slapping his thigh. “C’mere, mama.” Oh, fuck, the quirk of your insides was unavoidable at his comment, primarily as he guides you closer to him. “Let’s warm up.” You yelp as he effortlessly moves your legs to where you straddle him. He pushes your skirt up to your waist, and you can hear the tear from your pantyhose. His thumb comes to slide your panties to the side, and he whistles. “Damn, lookin’ all pretty and wet fr’ me.”

It’s either the fact that Toj’s dick is inches in front of your face or your bare pussy out in the air in front of him; either one of the two has your mind going in a whirlwind. And it all comes to a standstill the moment you sense something wet and firm glide across your labia, and it takes everything in you not to tremble. “Mmm, oh, fuck,” he groans after licking your cunt, throwing in another lazy one to have you holler. “It’s been so long…Shit.”Toji’s hands curl from your legs to cup your asscheeks, keeping your butt near him to lap his tongue around your chasm. You whine as he licks you down, your teeth clattering at the sensation.

Oh, my God, your head begins to ache. It feels so good, your body finally coming back to the groove of things as you move your butt around. The man under you quickly latches his mouth onto you, a firm grip on your ass to keep you in place for him to service you. Speaking of service, your eyes flick to the erect limb before you, your mouth salivating with the run of your tongue across your teeth. Fuck, it looks so good; you admire internally before inching your face close to the length, your head getting dizzier from the sheer size and musk. Damnit…I wanna taste him so bad…!!

“Go on, dollface,” Toji gives your butt a playful smack. “I know ya need this bad.”

God, he’s so right — you need this; there’s no point in denying anymore. You blow on it before placing a tender kiss, noticing how it pulsates as your hand wrings around the shaft. You lick your lips before pecking at the uncircumcised tip, and Toji’s hold on you goes tighter. He’s sensitive, you note. Adorable. You stick your tongue out to swirl around the cockhead, bathing it with your saliva before you inhale it with a delighted hum, gradually warming up your loosened jaw.

Fuck, the taste of a cock — something that felt nostalgic the moment he graced your tastebuds. Your eyes water a bit, trembles rocking your figure as Toji sucks on your wetness, and every inch you intake fuels the haze that fogs your brain. You stroke and suck him simultaneously, a forgotten method that rekindles now in this moment. You coat him with your spit the more you relax your jaw, slurping him unapologetically as if a different part of yourself takes over.

On the other hand, Toji feels the same way. It’s been way too long for the widowed man since the last time he has been intimate with someone, let alone have a bare ass right in front of him. It’s no secret that he’s had the hots for you once you moved here, but having you on top of him like this is like something out of his wet dreams. The way you murmur cutely as you suck his dick turns him on so bad, a guilty pleasure come true as he drinks your nectar off your damp naked folds. His tongue teases around the entrance of your vagina before pushing it in, fucking your opening with his wet muscle. You cry on his girth, your tail cringing in the air from the stimulation. He spots it and grabs it from the base; how your lower half jolts to the grasp is humorously darling to him. So cute.

The minutes go longer as you two keep pleasing each other, and a soft whimper escapes your lips when you release Toji from your lips, lips plastering long and sweet kisses on his shaft as you massage the tip. Your other hand palms and kneads his ballsack, the jerk of his thighs rewarding to see, so you increase the pace of your hand.

“—Thhh, nmm!” Toji curses from behind, sluggishly licking from clit to your slit while succumbing to your touch and mouth. “Shiiit, just like that, baby, suck me off like t—Mmngh! Christ, I’m gonna..fffuckin’ cum…”

But then, you remove yourself from Toji’s member, the cold air instantly blanketing him. Green eyes blink as you move off of his lying body, observing you bending over with your face to the cold sheets.

“Toji,” you plea to him desperately, hooded eyes shining eagerly. “Please, I need it…Here,” you spread your ass, fully exposing your slit wet from your fluids mixed with his saliva. Jesus, you were heathing as if you were in heat. “Do it here, I need it inside…!”

You had the man shook; the cogs in his mind stopped working briefly. The picture of you presenting yourself like this to him was unexpected, but goddamn, did it turn him on astronomically! Toji stands on his knees and advances to you, removing his tank top and discarding it to the floor. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” You nod impetuously. “Words, sweetie. Need you to tell me what to do.”

“Toji, pleeease…!” You wiggle your ass until he cusps it, kneading your flesh lovingly to the point that your tail curls around his forearm. “Please, put it in, I wanna feel it…!”

“Yeah, is that what my princess wants?” You and Toji bite your lips when he aligns his tip to your inner labia, teasing you with grinding motions. “Does my demon baby want Daddy to mess y’r insides that bad?”

Oh, we’re playing that card, too? Holy shit, you were getting so wet from this! “Yess, Daddy, pleasee! Mess me up with that dick, wanna be filled up right nooww…!”

He can’t hide the proud grin. “Good girl. Here,” Toji begins to push the cockhead to you, and your lips flatten at the wince of pain that accompanies the push. “Stay still, and lemme reward you,” his hips move slowly in your direction, you grip the sheets to prepare yourself, and your nerves are dialed to a plane of exhilaration you can’t regulate. Oh my God, is this happening? He’s gonna fuck me? So many thoughts cloud your mind, too excited and anxious for what’s to come because it’s been so. Damm. Long. How’s it gonna feel? Is your body ready enough? How does Toji feel about this; is he just as nervous as you a—

Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt halt at the sensation of Toji’s tip finally inserting itself into your vagina, too absentminded that your open mouth couldn’t say a word. Oh, fuck it’s in, it’s in! Your eyes widen, your muscles tense, and your voice struggles to cry. The older man continues to add himself leisurely, the length sundering your slit and stretching your opening as you take him inch by inch. Your back arches instinctively, wailing silently as you can feel the foreign limb intruding your tightness, quick quirks of your frame as he rubs your velvety texture. Ohhhh, my God…!!

When he slowly starts to rut into you, recurring waves of rapture hit your nerves every. Single. Time! You’re entire body is rocked to the core with every short yet gentle pound; the feeling of Toji’s veiny cock scrapping your channel has you shivering. And once he’s encouraged to push his entire member until the very hilt, you yelp aloud when the tip kisses your womb. “—Oooh??!”

“—Mmngh!” Your quick spasm surprises Toji. “Ohhh, shit, there it is. Hmm? Is this where ya want me, mama? Want me right…here?” He snaps his hips swiftly, the rushed movement and hit to your cervix knocks you winded. And another, you keep wringing his shaft acutely. “Ahhn, God fucking damn i—Iisshhffuck, fuck, I can’t, gonna…Hnghh!”

Toji’s body shudders above you, bucking into your warmth with a jittery pattern. The prolonged reaction of his orgasm claims him now, succumbing to the silky, tight texture and how well you’re grasping onto his girth. He comes inside you, moaning as he ejaculates earlier than expected. You sense it, humming to the immediate filling. So warm, so full of his cock already that your toes curl.

And Jesus Christ, it felt so. Fucking, Good! You were no longer drunk from the alcohol; now, you were intoxicated by the prowess and pleasure of Toji’s dick.

“Hah, haaaah, fuck,” he throws his head back with a hiss, his abdomen relaxing from the earlier flex. Then, your tail glides up from his abs, feeling up on his skin and roaming on his happy trail. He snickers at your feline-like comportment, “Heh, actin’ all cute now that you got what ya wanted, huh?” You say nothing, bashful to his words, while your tail curls up to his chin. “Don’t go quiet on me now, dollface; I heard you squeaking and moanin’ seconds ago.”

Toji then returns to rut into you despite recovering from his climax, furled to have you shrieking uncontrollably for him. The smacks of his pelvis recoil the flesh of your ass, his come stuffed inside you now glued to his erection as he rocks into you balls-deep. “Mmmm, yeah, that’s right, baby,” he grabs your tail and wraps it around his hand to pull; you scream louder, and your vaginal walls clamp tighter than ever. “Arch more fr’ me, enjoy me—nmm…!—fuckin’ you real good.”

The pull of your tail makes your senses hypersensitive, perturbed by the stress of it being pulled, yet the enjoyment you feel from it is too inexorable to comprehend. Coherent sentences double down to undecipherable babbles, “—Daahh, hoohhfuuc—D-Daddyyy, Daddyyy…!!” Tears well up in your eyes as he inflicts blows to your ass, the pain too quick to prepare for yet the sting enough to make you rigid. “—Too much, ish t’oo muuuch…!”

Another smack to your butt, and you howl once again. “Huh, ya say that, but y’re milkin’ my cock like crazy.” He bends down to remove your hands that try to hide your face and horns with the pillow. “What, ya don’t like this? Hmm? Want me to stop?”

“No, nooo!!” You shook your head immediately; your vision blurred for a few seconds. “I loveee iit, I love this, love Daddy’s diick—Ahaaa!! More…I want moreee!” Fuck, this is bad; any more than this, and you’ll be addicted for sure.

“Good,” he whispers to your ears. Good Lord, you weren’t going to survive. “Because I ain’t done wit’ ya yet, princess.”

Before you can register his sentence fully, Toji straightens and lays on his side behind you, lifting your leg to create a suitable angle. He then plunges into you harder and faster, the different positions helping the sporadic cadence achieve deeper penetration while scraping your upper wall with ease. At this point, your body is too hot and sticky to care about anything else outside this room; your head pounding and too misty, your senses corrupted by the constant pokes to your cervix and the increasing haze that you don’t feel human anymore. Your succubus roots flourish, drool escapes your lips, and wanting nothing but this feeling to remain ceaseless.

“Gahh, ohhhDaddyyy, ahhahh,” eyes roll to your skull at the brush of your sweet spots. “Shhoo good, I fweel shoo gooood…! Harder, hardeeerr!”

“—Khhck, goin’ as hard as I fuckin’ can!!” Toji kisses your cheek after a lick, chewing on it after hearing you mewl submissively. “Jesus, this pussy, out of this fuckin’—Nnngh…world.”

You turn to him and claim his lips, and he reciprocates into your steamy kiss. Vulgar tongues exchange spit and encroach on each other’s mouth, and you helplessly suck on Toji’s after he shoves it, your puffy lips intaking the attractive noises he makes. And you slither a hand down to your clitoris to swipe erratically while your tail goes around Toji’s waist and curves into the crevice of his ass. Suddenly, Toji stiffens at the pointy end of your tail, tickling his anus, and the raven-haired man gasps at the insertion. Too stunned to speak, he can only move his hips rapidly, his white-ringed shaft digging deep into you with the help of stimulating his prostate.

“—Taahhh, y-you, lil’ minx…!” He breaks the kiss and bites your lip to hear you whimper. “Tryin’ ta make me cum again?”

You nod, breathing heavily. “Ohhh, Daddy, I’m so close…! Gonna come!”

“Me too, mama, me too…”

Hot moans and groans fly out of each other’s mouths, bodies stuck to each other as you both chase for release. Everything feels so fast, so hot, happening all at once; all you can think about is the grinding presses you push up on your delicate clit. Fuck, fuck! It’s coming, it’s coming…!”

Then, it arrives. Your cunt, aching for the climax, receives the crescendo you’ve been aching for this entire time. The walls of your vulva contract around Toji’s member, milking and wringing him as you come loose to your grounding. A clear liquid exerts out of your urethra, showering out to stain your panties, torn pantyhose, and bedsheets, your breathing losing its steadiness and falling to a jagged tempo. The same goes for Toji, who falls into his peak along with you; your fluttering folds force him to submit and release his second load into you with a hiss. The older man’s heaving frame keeps bucking into you until every drop fills you to the brim, burrowing his face deep into your neck to rest as the shocks rock you both.

Finally, everything goes quiet. The cozy atmosphere pulls you out of your heightened elevation and lays you down with silent clarity. Both you and Toji, sweaty and sticky all over, are still linked to each other as the high dissipates. Shuddering figures begin to calm down and fall at ease with the tranquility.

Toji kisses your neck, and you croon until he comes to lay his lips on yours for a tender peck, then on your soft cheek and your temple. He then removes his flaccid bulge, white fluids oozing out of your hole. “Damn, that was good,” he mutters breathlessly. “Hmm, how ya feel—“

The onyx-haired man couldn’t finish his question because of the sudden change of positions you abruptly conducted. He now lays on his back with you straddling him; the calm tone switched to an unexpected spiking mood.

You then hand grab his dick and arrange it back to your raised hips. Viridian orbs widen. Wait. The tip meets your labia once more before you descend it down. What the f—hold on— And then, his cock is swallowed back inside your wetness, and Toji grits his teeth.

“Sh-Shit, sweetie,” Toji’s hands come to your waist. “What’s up, aren’t y—“

“Sorry, Toji,” the man surveys with confusion, watching you strip off and throw your shirt somewhere. Your naked chest is now out for him to see, and his breath hitches when you place your hands on his pectorals while a span of bat-like wings springs out from your back. “…That wasn’t enough.”

Wasn’t enough?? He repeats with furrowed brows, noticing the half-lidded, lustful expression and the sharp dents of your canines. Then, it hits him:

“The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

…Oh, shit. “Wait, we can talk about—“ You get your answer once you bounce on his cock without notice, Toji nearly choking on his tongue. Nope, no room for prattling.

“You let out so much, made my mind go so crazy,” you grind your hips on his pelvis, squeezing his limp cock while it gets firmer and firmer. “Feel so good…More, I want moreee…”

“C-C’mon now, baby, can’t we take a break for a minute at least—“You bring your face an inch away from his.

“Daddy,” your neighbor shudders at the gentle kiss you place under his chin. “Please take care of me like you promised, ‘kay?”

Your gaze lured him in, a trap he was foolish enough to fall for. Because now, he’s stuck under your bow as you begin to inflict an inescapable rhythm, rebounding on his erection until the base meets your folds. Choked groans suppressed by Toji, but take his lips with yours, enforcing a loving yet salacious spell with your satisfied moans. Now, your crush realizes you weren’t the meek, adorable neighbor he dotes on.

Tonight, he was yours to play like a fiddle…And shame on him for getting way more turned on than he should be!

Wow. Guess I’m dyin’ tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I should be fuckin’ dead right now.

Toji knew something was up when his eyelids opened, and his emerald eyes scanned the ceiling, instantly recognizing that he wasn’t in his master bedroom. The rays of sunshine are blocked from the curtains, yet the light of day crawls in and basks the room in a low glow. Chirps of birds outside greet him on the basking of a new autumn day, lying comfortably in the cold, silky sheets of the bed.

He wakes to a bit of a headache, mentally and physically groggy. Attempts to move are already tricky and aches all over his body keep him grounded in the mattress. Ugh, feel like I’ve lost all feelin’ in my legs; the man can’t even lift one leg without a grimace. And even his arms are challenging, one so oddly heavy as if it’s nailed down.

“Fuck, man.” His first words of the day are a curse, irritated by the drum of his head. He tries to lift himself; again, it’s not possible, agitating the man even more. And why the fuck is my arm so hea—

He doesn’t finish his sentence — the answer reveals itself once he turns his head to the left.

He sees you, surprised to view you in your natural form still. Horns have grown a little larger, yet still small enough for you to rest your cheek on his shoulder. You were sound asleep, faint snores picked up by his ears as he examined your face at ease with a peaceful slumber. Nude, the both of you, a hand wrapped around his left arm to stick close to you while the other is stationed at his chest, your bat wings shriveled together to not get damaged. And judging by the snake-ish feeling, your tail was curled around his bare thigh.

Strangely innocent to see after the events of last night flash into Toji’s recollection, funny to match such a lewd scenario to such a sweet face. He stifles a laugh, placing his right hand on the vulnerable one on him, his thumb caressing your knuckles as he grasps your fingers. Suddenly, some of the soreness he harbors feels light — glad I ain’t dead, I guess.

Your eyes jit behind your eyelids, a soft groan as you suddenly move and scrunch your face. Finally, your drowsy eyes sheepishly flicker open. Lidded gaze fighting the spell of sleep with every bat of your eyes.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” Toji greets you.

“…”

In real-time, Toji watches your somnolent morph into a gradual display of mortification. He’s a little envious to see you spring up with no strain on your body, wings batting out of their relaxed state, and your hand still with his. “T-Toji??” You question directly, eyes surveying the nude neighbor in your bed, doing everything in your power to ignore the fact that you’re naked as well. Speaking of, you notice the subtle pink glow of your womb tattoo, and anxiety spikes to a high. “I–uhh–I’m so so sorry for last night! Sorry you had to bring me back home, and I didn’t mean to act weirdly on you with—Ooof?!”

“Relax,” he cuts you off by pulling you back to his lying frame, his left hand now free to snake on your shoulder. “Don’t talk so fast; my head’s poundin’ like crazy.”

You blink aimlessly, awkward now that you’re fully aware you’re in this man’s embrace. You can’t help recalling what transpired last night, suddenly feeling squeamish. “…You okay?”

“I feel like my life’s been drained by my dick,” he answers bluntly, adding more weight to your embarrassment. “Wakin’ up to a pretty face who nearly killed me with their pussy isn’t somethin’ I’d expect.”

“……sorry.”

“It’s alright,” calloused fingers glide and intertwine with his yours, stroking your thumb with his. “Had a good time either way. Wild, but good.”

“Really…?”

“Really.” You probably shouldn’t have peered up to see him look your direction. Albeit exhausted, his handsome face and sleepy grin ignite the heat on your cheeks. And your stomach flips, hearing a laugh when you meekly avert your gaze away. “How many times did we do it?”

“…Not sure,” long enough for my womb tattoo to be blatant.

“Me either. Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes? I guess it’s because I haven’t done it for a long time, so I went…off the rails because of the intensity.”

“Noted, because I never felt so old until now. I probably pulled somethin’.”

“….Sorry.”

“Y’re good,” Toji scoffs before moving to place a soft kiss on your forehead, and your heart skips the tighter his hand holds your hand. “Tell ya what, I can help you with that cycle of yours, probably…twice a month, so it doesn’t get too crazy like last night. And don’t use y’re powers or some shit to make me forget, either. I don’t wan’ that.”

You lift your face from his shoulder, the heat spreading to your ears. “You don’t have to do that, Toji, I wouldn’t—“

“Nah, I’m down; it’s what neighbors for. Besides, it finally gives me a reason to make ya interact with me more.” Again, his smug smirk causes knots in your stomach. “Like the sound of that, mama? Let Daddy take care of you?”

Your lips quiver, and you hide your face back onto his shoulder. The rumble of his laughter worsens the butterflies in your stomach, and your tail squeezes on his thigh. “Don’t say it like that, Toji!”

“Y’r tail seems to like it.”

“Stop it!”

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

#cause you ateeee #love toji x succubus reader #would love to fuck the dog shit outta that ol man #lmfao twice a month? nah daddy #we doing this twice a DAY #strap in #or ill have to get a strap ON #kefhskfhgsjkhgfsjkf #•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ #ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ #ᥫ᭡•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мσσтѕ #queen hoshi #you putting toji to good use this month BUT IM COMING BACK FOR MY MANS IN NOV!!!!!

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blkkizzat · 7 months ago

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@ryomens-vixen i told you grill toji was canon! 90's toji aint gonna let nobody touch that grill at the cookout.

the best stereotype to assign to toji is that he is the dude who is defensive about and honestly a little nerdy when it comes to grilling. he will guard that grill and he will deliver perfectly cooked hamburgers and steaks no you cannot help him and he knows he shouldn’t call it a “man’s job” but it’s his job and your job is to sit in the little beach chair he pulls out for you when it starts to get warm and sip your drink and keep him company and tell him what you think of the new spice rub he tried out and sure if you wanna kiss him on the cheek that's fine too he won’t object

#love this #ᥫ᭡•↻ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яєвℓσgѕ #•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉яє¢ѕ

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blkkizzat · 4 months ago

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see he wouldnt even have to do all that i would have BEEN bent over, legs wide and on my BACCKKKK

witch's brew | witch! t. fushiguro x magical girl!reader | 呪術廻戦

a/n: if I'm starting kinktober, I'm starting it right. Have some toji you animals. I personally blame @blkkizzat and @hoshigray for this.

wc: 2.5k

contains: masturbation, sexual fantasies, entrapment, kidnapping, unrequited love, possessive behavior, just horror themed based.

synopsis: it seems that you have an admirer in the form of a witch.

The night was unnaturally quiet, the air thick with an impending sense of doom. You’d been walking home from an uneventful evening, but something was wrong. The moon hung too low, too bright, casting strange shadows that seemed to follow your every step. Your chest tightened, anxiety gnawing at you like a parasite. Every rustle in the trees, every crunch of a leaf made your skin prickle with unease. You swore someone was watching.

That’s when he appeared.

Toji Fushiguro.

He was panting, stroking himself, his arm shielding away his eyes. the sight of you always in his mind. You were beautiful to him, you were everything he envisioned. Your smile, your innocent spirit, the way you just looked so perfect. His moans echoing his chambers as he slowly started to thrust more as he felt himself about to cum soon.

"Fuck...FUCK." He hissed out. His blacken hand feeling each inch of ecstasy.

As he arches his back, he yells out as he sprays out nice essence at the throat of you. An orb was glowing as he grabs it and looks into it. He saw you, you were finishing up something, and just wanted to go home. You were done slaying curses for one night and were heading home.

Tall, dark, and painfully handsome, his presence was as overwhelming as it was eerie. His eyes gleamed with a wicked intensity, and his lips curved into a smile that sent chills down your spine. You’d seen him before—once, in passing, and again in your dreams, where the world twisted into something nightmarish.

"Leaving so soon?" his voice was smooth, almost mocking.

Your heart raced. Every instinct told you to run, but your feet remained frozen in place. You tried to speak, but words caught in your throat.

Toji stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I've been watching you," he said, his tone casual, as if talking to an old friend. "You, with all your power... It’s fascinating, really."

You felt a surge of magic flicker within you, instinctively raising your guard. But before you could react, he raised a hand, muttering something under his breath. Darkness exploded around you, and the world spun into oblivion.

When you awoke, everything was wrong.

You were no longer in your world.

The room was unfamiliar—gothic, ornate, and suffocating. The air was thick with magic, dark and twisted, and you felt it clawing at your skin, seeping into your very soul. You tried to move, but invisible chains bound you in place.

Toji stood before you, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint. "You're mine now," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "There’s no escape."

You struggled against the invisible hold, summoning every ounce of magic you had left, but nothing worked. It was as if the very air around you drained your power.

Toji chuckled, watching your futile attempts.

"You don’t understand, do you? You’ve walked right into my trap. This place... it bends to my will. And you?" He knelt in front of you, lifting your chin with a single finger. "You’ll never leave."

Panic rose in your chest, suffocating you. His presence was overwhelming, oppressive. You felt his magic wrap around your mind like a vice, tightening slowly, mercilessly.

"Let me go!" you gasped, your voice trembling.

He tilted his head, amused by your defiance. "Why would I ever do that? I’ve been searching for someone like you for so long. A magical girl with so much potential... You’re perfect." His voice dripped with obsession, his eyes darkening with desire—though not the kind you expected. His obsession was something darker, more twisted, a need to control, to torment.

Days blurred together in that prison. Toji was always there, watching, waiting. He whispered dark curses in your ear, slowly unraveling your mind. You would wake to his voice in the dead of night, a phantom in the darkness, promising that you belonged to him. Every time you tried to fight, to escape, he would tighten his grip, his magic suffocating your own.

"You’ll never be free," he would say, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "No one will ever find you here. No one can."

You could feel yourself unraveling, piece by piece. He would keep you locked away, forever a prisoner in his cursed world. And the worst part? You began to doubt yourself. The walls seemed to close in, your reality slipping away. His voice became the only constant, his presence the only thing you could rely on.

Maybe you were crazy. Maybe this was all a dream. Or worse, maybe it wasn’t.

Toji's obsession only grew with time, his torment becoming more intimate, more invasive. He would appear in your thoughts, twisting your memories, making you question what was real and what was his doing. Every time you thought you had a moment of clarity, he would be there, dragging you back into his grasp.

"You can't escape me," he whispered, his voice echoing in the dark. "No matter how hard you try."

You screamed, but your voice was swallowed by the void.

Toji smiled.

You were his.

Forever.

The days stretched into weeks—or was it longer? Time itself had become a blur, an untraceable loop in this twisted dimension Toji had crafted around you. The lines between reality and nightmare thinned until they bled into one another. You couldn’t remember what it felt like to be free.

Every day, Toji was there, his dark presence a constant reminder that you were nothing more than his puppet. He never allowed you to be alone for long. You would wake to find him watching from the shadows, his piercing eyes drinking in every ounce of your fear, feeding off your helplessness. It was as if he relished your suffering, delighted in watching you come apart at the seams.

Sometimes, he was gentle, almost tender. He would sit beside you, brushing the hair from your face, his touch cold but oddly soothing. "Why do you resist, little one?" he would murmur, his voice low and seductive. "Don’t you see? I could give you everything. All the power you could ever want, all the knowledge of the dark arts... If only you would stop fighting me."

But you knew better. His words were poison, a slow-acting venom that crept into your veins with every passing day. He wasn’t offering you freedom. No, he was trying to mold you, break you, until there was nothing left of who you once were. He wanted to consume you, body and soul, until you were nothing more than a hollow shell, a reflection of his own twisted desires.

And despite your attempts to hold on to your sanity, you could feel the cracks deepening. You tried to remind yourself of the life you had before Toji trapped you in this dark purgatory, but the memories were fading. Your friends, your family, even your own reflection in the mirror had become distant, abstract things.

Sometimes, you questioned if they ever existed at all.

And Toji—he noticed. He always noticed.

One evening, when the suffocating darkness of his world felt heavier than ever, Toji appeared, sitting at the foot of your bed with that familiar, cruel smirk. "I see you’ve been thinking about escaping again," he purred. His voice was silk laced with malice. "You still believe there’s a way out of this, don’t you?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat felt raw from all the silent screaming you had done, your thoughts tangled and foggy.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting across your skin.

"Do you know what I love most about this curse I’ve placed on you?" His smile widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. "It’s not just your body that belongs to me. It’s your mind." He tapped a finger to your temple, his touch electrifying in the worst way possible.

"I know what you’re thinking before you even think it. Every fear, every hope, every desperate little plan to escape—none of it is a secret to me."

Your chest tightened with panic as his words sank in. It was true. Every time you had tried to break free, something had gone wrong—like he knew your thoughts before you could act on them. You had been playing right into his hands, and now, the despair was unbearable.

He tilted your chin upward, forcing you to look into his eyes. "You’re starting to understand now, aren’t you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, dark and intoxicating. "There is no escape from me. Not here. Not ever. I will have you, in every sense of the word."

Something inside you shattered at that moment. A sob ripped from your throat, and the tears you had been holding back for so long finally spilled down your cheeks. Toji only smiled, his expression one of triumph.

"Good," he said softly, brushing a tear away with his thumb. "Let it all out. The sooner you accept your place here, the sooner we can stop this silly game of resistance."

You wanted to fight, to scream at him, but your strength was slipping away, stolen by the relentless grip of his curse. Each passing day, each whispered word from his lips, eroded the pieces of you that still held on to hope.

There were moments, fleeting and cruel, when you thought you felt something stir within Toji—something softer, a glimpse of the man beneath the monster. But those moments were always brief, vanishing like mist under the sun, leaving only his malevolent intent behind. You were his obsession, his dark prize, and he had no intention of ever letting you go.

And as time stretched on, the worst part wasn’t the torment. It wasn’t the loneliness, or the fear, or even the way he toyed with your mind, unraveling you bit by bit.

The worst part was that you were beginning to believe him.

His whispers echoed in your mind, filling the void with sweet promises of surrender. Maybe this was your fate. Maybe he was right. Maybe you would never escape. And as the last fragments of your resistance began to crumble, you felt a sickening sense of relief—because at least in surrender, there would be an end to the struggle.

Toji’s voice cut through the darkness one last time, soft and full of twisted affection. "You’re mine," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "And soon, you’ll learn to love it."

And in the silence that followed, you couldn’t help but wonder if you already were.

The days slipped into a state of numbness. You had stopped counting the time, stopped fighting against the inevitable. The once-loud voice in your head screaming for escape had grown quieter, weaker. Toji’s presence had seeped so deeply into your mind that you could no longer distinguish his thoughts from your own.

And in those quiet moments, when he wasn’t watching you, you would feel it—the curse tightening around your soul like a noose. There was no escaping it. You had tried everything, but now… now, a part of you wondered if it was worth it to keep trying.

One evening, Toji appeared in your room, his silhouette framed by the dim light of a flickering candle. His expression was different, colder. His obsession hadn’t wavered, but there was a new edge to it, something more dangerous, more final.

"You’ve been quiet," he said, his voice smooth as ever. "No more attempts to break free? No more fighting?" He tilted his head, studying you with that unnerving gaze. "Have you finally accepted it?"

You stared at him, your body too tired to move, too drained to react. Deep down, something inside you still screamed, still begged for release, but it was so far away now, buried under layers of magic and madness.

Toji’s smile widened, pleased with your silence. "Good," he whispered, stepping closer, his shadow engulfing you. "You’re almost ready."

Almost ready for what? A flicker of fear surged within you, but it was fleeting, drowned out by the heavy, oppressive weight of his curse. You wanted to ask, but your throat felt constricted, as if speaking would unravel you entirely.

Without warning, he reached out, his fingers grazing your face. But this time, his touch wasn’t cold. It burned, searing your skin, branding you with his curse in a way you hadn’t felt before. You flinched, but the magic binding you held you still.

Toji’s eyes gleamed with something primal, something more than mere possession. "You don’t understand yet, do you?" he whispered, his voice laced with dark amusement. "This isn’t just about keeping you here. This curse... it’s about making you mine, in every sense. Body, mind, soul."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath sending a sickening shiver down your spine. "I’ve been patient. I’ve let you fight, struggle, even hope for a way out. But that’s over now."

A cold dread washed over you as his words sunk in. You tried to move, to scream, to do anything to stop what you knew was coming, but it was too late.

Toji’s grip tightened, and you felt the full weight of his magic flood your senses. Your mind screamed in agony as the curse dug deeper, sinking into your very being. Memories you had clung to—the faces of loved ones, the warmth of freedom—shattered like fragile glass. Your thoughts twisted and warped until they were no longer your own. The last remnants of your identity, the last pieces of you that had resisted him, were being torn away.

You gasped, choking on the darkness that swallowed you whole. Toji’s voice echoed in your mind, louder than ever, his whispers filling every corner of your consciousness.

"You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And now… you’ll never escape me."

The truth hit you like a dagger to the heart.

This was it. There was no escape, not from him, not from this place. Even if you could leave the room, the world outside would never be yours again. The curse had taken root, deeper than you had ever imagined. You weren’t just trapped in his world.

You were becoming part of it.

Your vision blurred as tears welled up, but even they felt wrong, foreign, as if your emotions were no longer truly yours to control. You could feel the walls of this twisted prison closing in on your soul, tightening, suffocating. Your heartbeat slowed, your breath shallow, as if your body itself was slipping away into the void.

And Toji stood over you, watching it all unfold, his eyes filled with a dark, victorious satisfaction. He had won.

The final, horrifying realization crashed into you.

You weren’t just his prisoner anymore. You were becoming him.

Piece by piece, your thoughts, your memories, your very soul were being consumed by the curse, by him. You could feel Toji’s presence growing stronger inside you, his dark magic replacing everything that had once been you. Your mind fractured under the weight of his influence, and a sickening dread filled your chest as you realized that, soon, there would be nothing left of you at all.

In the last moment of clarity before the darkness swallowed you whole, you saw it—the faintest flicker of yourself, disappearing into the void. And then, it was gone.

Toji smiled, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead, sealing your fate.

"Welcome home," he whispered.

And in that moment, you knew the horrifying truth.

You were no longer the victim.

You were the curse.

Forever trapped in Toji’s world. Forever him.

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