#there’s more pain in this chap | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madamechrissy · 2 months ago

Text

Veiled Secrets

art is by @3-aem they're insanely talented 🥹

pairings- emperor! gojo x arranged empress! reader

summary -you've been set to marry the new emperor Satoru Gojo, but he wants nothing to do with all of that, he doesn't even come to your first meeting - rude! No, he must bathe with his concubines, but when he sees you for the first time and doesn't even know you're his wife? Everything shifts, but it turns out he doesn't know that you're not happy to be here either. Leaving your past love behind and everything you know for a foreign country, just to be unwanted by your new 'husband' is almost enough to break you. You're ready to go through the motions, play your role, but do you really know who Emperor Gojo is?

contents/warnings - heavy angst, depression, enemies to lovers, longing, mutual pining, explicit smut, back and forth games, court tactics, Satoru being a hoe, reader missing her lover Suguru, a fuck ton of drama and games, he falls hard. This chap - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, angst and jealousy, Satoru kinda being a dick but also a consent king, masturbation (m), mentions of sex with others- 11k WC - based on emperor! gojo headcanons

This one the poll as the thank you for 20k followers!! Thank you all sm 💗 If you enjoy, rbs and comments are so appreciated! Taglist closed

playlist - Part Two>>>

Part One

The pretty, intricate tea cup swirls with amber liquid, you’re gently spinning your little gold spoon in it, as you wonder at the time. It’s your second cup of tea, as you wait for him - your husband to be, the Emperor Gojo. You don’t know anything about him aside from tales of his military exploits, and you have heard he’s very young still. Some say he’s handsome, but you can’t say you care.

The memories of the love you left, the family you left behind, to now be surrounded by strangers, was brutal, lingering pain mixing with the terror of being in a new country. You are trying to understand their customs, their cultures, luckily you know their language, but you miss your home terribly. You miss feeling safe in the castle you grew up in.

Mostly, you miss him - your guard, the man you’d just finally started to kiss, he’d started to explore your body when you two had the briefest of moments. You thought you’d run away with him, only to be dragged here, without a chance to do more than leave him a letter of farewell, and now you’re waiting for a man for - it must have been an hour - sipping on your third cup of tea.

Everything is immaculate in this place, your chambers, the pavilion itself, covered in blues and whites, the colors of the Gojo family. You were greeted friendly enough, shown your new ladies in waiting, as yours were not allowed to come, the palace itself was under constant high security. They didn’t welcome outsiders, and you can tell they don’t welcome you.

Having been whispered about, talked about as you walked through the lively pavilions, passing many workers and ladies who bow to you, before whispering behind your back. It’s as if everyone smiles to your face, then starts gossiping - and god do you hear all of it, even now, the three ladies standing behind you murmur to each other behind their fans.

He’s an hour late, he’s not coming!

What an insult… he’s probably with his favorite concubine!

Concubine Lola, it must be.

What if we worked for her - her pavilion-

“Could you all please stop?” Your words have the three girls gasping, you don’t even look back at them, tracing your fingers along the pretty rose patterns of your tea cup, of the little dish under it. You scoop some of the honey in a little dish, watching it roll gently into the tea, still steaming up with puffs of condensation.

They quiet down, or their whispers are quieter you should say, as you sit there in your immaculate gowns, the highest of fashion. You were done up with make up, your hair piled high in the latest fashion with the prettiest blue pin that had been bestowed upon you from him - from Gojo - through a servant of his.

Yet, here you are, alone.

Your mind drifts as you wait, as you eye the elaborate tarts that the cook has whipped up, sitting there untouched, your tummy hurting from the nausea rolling over you in waves. How could you just leave Suguru behind? Did he get your letter? He always knew there wasn’t much hope, but you were the one littered with wild ideas, the hopeful one.

He kissed your neck the last time you saw him, toying with you under your skirts - the style back home was many voluminous ones, and he had no problem finding your clit under them. He’d drank in your quiet little whimpers as his violet eyes looked down at you, his other hand at the nape of your neck when you’d said it - I love you.

He had kissed you quiet, having you cum for the first time, the memories make you heat up and blush. You’d both had to separate, and that’s the night you found out you had to leave your home forever. Not just another territory or land, no - an entire country, a five day trip on ship and two days on land to get here. A man who clearly has no interest to even show up.

Suddenly, a beautiful woman with long white locks comes in, smiling kindly at you, she has brilliant blue eyes - so blue they’re enchanting. You quickly recover your thoughts, standing as well, palms just a little sweaty as you bow your head, and she does as well, decked in the color blue, her hair falling just a bit in front of a beautiful face.

“Former Empress Gojo,” she greets then, she comes over to kindly take your hands, you smile nervously. “I’m so sorry, my son is… occupied… and will not make the meeting.”

“Oh, I see,” you are seething - can he not walk a few steps to greet you after the week it took? But you hold it all in, keeping your composure and smiling, as her ladies whisper behind her to your ladies - god the court is gossipy. “Is he well, your majesty?”

“Don’t be so formal, I’ll be your mother in law soon.” She kindly smiles, but you hear the whispers.

He’s with all of them?

At once? Scandalous!

Do they get along that well?

“Ladies,” his mother chides them, like a sweet mother duck, and they instantly quiet, she looks at you, tilting her head. “You are most beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you Lady Gojo.” You bow your head again.

“And such manners, you’ll do well.” You wish her words made you feel better, but they don’t.

You just want to fucking go home.

But you put on your fake smile, you’ve done it your entire life as a princess, you’re truly just moving from one gilded cage to another, that’s all your home was - despite the love and friends you built. You had no freedom, and you won’t have any here, where at least your parents were doting, they used you as a political pawn, such is what happens to women.

You thought you could really run away, how foolish a thought. It sinks in your mind like a cruel joke, as the former Empress Gojo goes on, she’s so kind, you can feel it’s not fake. It seems genuine, her understanding, like she’s been here before - clearly from some different land judging by her unique looks. You wonder what she thought when she had to go through this.

“I will have our attendant Ijichi show you around, he’s very knowledgeable about everything here, moreso than even my son, don’t tell him I said so.” She laughs a bit at that, you give her a perfunctory smile.

“You are most gracious, Lady Gojo.”

Soon a tired looking man walks in, but he seems sweet and kind, smiling and bowing his head. He wears a little monocle on one eye, wearing the traditional dark blue robes you’ve seen other attendants and guards wear. He takes your hand and bows over it, some inky black locks falling over his brow.

“My lady,” his voice is quiet and calm. Aside from Lady Gojo, this may be the only other person you have had a decent sense of character from. “It’s an honor.”

“Hello, Mr. Ijichi, I’m excited to learn more about the palace.” You smile and he nods his head a bit.

“I’ll show you around so you know where to go, I’m so sorry his majesty… was… occupied.” The snickering of the six girls earns Gojo’s mother’s scowl, and they quickly hush, but you see a blush on Ijichi’s face, a frown.

“It’s quite understandable, he must be busy. I look forward to meeting him,” you’re lying through your teeth, but you know it’s the correct move, as he smiles with an exhale of relief. It wasn’t his fault his Emperor was seemingly a man whore. “I’d love a tour.”

“Then let us go.” You say your farewells, and Ijichi walks you outside, his hands together under his large sleeves, and you notice many onlookers whispering.

She’s so beautiful.

She is, but can she catch his attention?

He’s clearly not interested, despite her beauty.

Emperor Gojo is about more than looks.

He is quite quirky.

“Do they always gossip like this?” Your question earns a surprised laugh from Ijichi, he seems stoic but his smile is sweet.

“They never stop.”

“God!”

He chuckles again, and you find yourself comfortable with him - when you learn he’s twenty seven however, you have to wonder how hard Gojo works this poor man. Five years older than you and he seems much older, perhaps Gojo was every bit the tough ruler he was rumored to be.

“This is the bathhouse, if you wish you can bathe here instead of your chambers, it is renowned to be one of the best.” You look curiously, remembering the last time you bathed was before you came here, you’d die for one right now.

“Are they?”

“Indeed, they are. Here is one of the temples,” he’s pointing as you two walk, you incline your head at passersby, all while walking right next to him. “This one is a sacred temple from many centuries ago.”

“It’s quite beautiful,” you eye it, truly majestic in front of you, with its gorgeous architecture quite different from many. “Can I go there?”

“Unfortunately only men can enter,” he blushes then. “I’m sorry my lady.”

“No, that’s quite alright.”

“This temple,” he points to another distant one, as the sun warms you over the thick silk brocade of your yukata, and a few pretty butterflies flutter by. You focus on where he’s pointing, a large dark green building with curved roofs in the distance. “You could enter with your future husband, however.”

“Ah,” nice, you could enter a temple with the man you don’t know, the one too good to meet you for tea. “And this building?”

“It’s the sapphire pavilion,” he trails off again, clearing his throat. “It’s Concubine Lola’s pavilion.”

“I see.” You remember hearing earlier, she’s his favorite, her pavilion is perhaps more opulent than any of the others you’ve seen, second only to yours.

“Yes, it is quite lovely I suppose.” He seems unimpressed, eyeing you then. “I believe Emperor Gojo will… enjoy your pavilion, if that’s not too bold to say.”

It’s your turn to blush, looking down now, hands in front of you as you two walk along the soft grassy knowl, and he lays one of his outer robes down for you to sit. You smile and thank him. “I don’t know if I agree.”

“I have known Master Gojo my entire life, I do believe it’s true,” his soft words make you relax just a bit. “Master Gojo is young and… difficult at times.”

“Perhaps I wish I’d have you for a fiance.”

“My lady!”

“You’re very sweet.” You’re giggling behind your hand as he blushes.

“I’m no Emperor Gojo, but thank you for the kind words.”

“Ah, well I don’t know him yet. I know no one here,” your words get trapped in your throat, you watch the hustle of the servants as they work, cleaning or gardening, the merchants taking down their carts across the way in a little circular shop, while a butterfly lands on your knee. “Oh look.”

“They say it’s good luck, my lady.” He smiles kindly again, reaching a finger out for the butterfly to go to.

“He likes you.” He laughs a bit, sighing.

“Insects do.”

“They’re good judges of character.”

“He will like you, I know it,” you’re unconvinced, it’s as if Ijichi feels sorry and is trying to cheer you up, but you nod a bit to appease him. He stands and holds out a hand, helping you up. You brush yourself off and hand him his now crumbled robe, which he folds over an arm. “Let us go back.”

You miss him already when he leaves, the kindness of him was so welcome in this place of deceit, of fakeness, of lies. Everyone seemed out for something, you suppose home wasn’t much different, but to the extent the ladies gossiped it was utterly ridiculous.

“I’d like to go to the bathhouse, Miwa would you take me?” You ask one of the girls, she’s a little quieter than the other two, a little more friendly.

“Of course I can, my lady, but also you could have a bath run?”

“I hear they’re very nice, and I’d love a chance to see.” She nods, grabbing a gown for you, as the other two whisper again, earning your eye roll. “I brought some hair soap, let me fetch it.”

“What’s hair soap?” She asks, you show her now and she seems curious.

“I have several if you’d like to try.”

“If it makes my hair that beautiful, yes!” She’s smiling warmly at you, now you feel just a little more comfortable, as she walks you through the massive doors, it’s dusk now, the sky alit with purples and oranges. “Emperor Gojo is the most handsome man in the land.”

“Is he now,” you really don’t give a fuck, to be quite honest. Suguru was a beautiful man, his violet eyes, his little lazy smile, elegant fingers that would hold your hand in secret any chance he got. Gojo may be gorgeous, but you had him in your head, the man who loved you.

Well, you think he did?

He never got a chance to say if he did back or not, kissing you in that moment, the last moment you had. The nightmares over and over on the trip were enough to make you sick, you kept writing letters and burning them, not knowing how the fuck you’d ever get one to him in secret. Your parents were fond of him but never enough to match your station.

“What’s wrong, my lady?” You realize you’ve quit walking then, just standing there as the pain echoes.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little tired, Miwa.” She nods, and you enter the enormous bathhouse now, fragrant steam already pricking your nose as you two enter a room with several women changing.

You blush just a bit, things were more open here than back home, the girls are more friendly as they smile, and walk off, leaving you to have Miwa start undoing your obi, the delicate bands of silk. She’s slowly untying you until you’re bare, and then steps in front of you, holding the thin white shift out.

“We wear this?”

“You will, yes, attendants don’t bathe here, we go to a different area of the bathhouse.” She’s slipping it over your head, like a whisper of silk as it dances across your body, while Satoru is on the other side, being fed grapes and lavished on by his favorite girls, in lieu of meeting you.

Satoru Gojo’s kissing his favorite, Lola, her pretty lips dewy from the baths, as his other girls are brushing their hands all across his body. He’s chuckling a bit, trying to kiss every single one of the four girls now, they’re all touching him, massaging him, littering kisses on his body. The warm waters undulate against his skin, lapping around his chest as he sighs, his eyes shutting.

It’s almost good enough to forget the endless responsibilities he never fucking wanted, all the sweet scents and practiced touches of his concubines. If Satoru could say anything was a perk, it was the beautiful, voluptuous fucking concubines, as if they were all tailored to perfection. Their giggles get louder when he sucks one of their tits in his mouth, over the thin white material, the others clamoring over who got it next.

Even for an emperor, Satoru Gojo was bold.

Emperors did not lay with more than one concubine at once, it was not a harem after all, though in his travels he’d seen several of those. Now that seemed the way to do it, have a house full of beautiful girls that only fuck him, only want him. Utterly devoted, though these girls were in their own way, he also knew their power plays.

They all wanted one thing, Satoru to put babies in them, and well… he had not made that happen yet. Just two years into it, and young, it was normal, but Satoru made sure he didn’t have babies, pulling out strategically without them noticing, because he just wasn’t ready yet for more responsibility. Plus, once you had one heir, you needed a spare, and more and more with how fragile that could be.

He wanted to have a little more fun, but also he hates tradition, hates the duty disposed on him. War and battle were something he was inherently good at, but running things politically was outright boring. Much of that fun was coming to an end, with this mysterious fucking wife he was to marry in a few weeks time.

He knows he irritated his mother not showing up, but being fed grapes and having his dick sucked? Much better time spent in his opinion, than some meek little princess from far away. She'd likely be some perfectly trained airhead, all the broken betrothal before were just that, but apparently this one they would have no argument of.

He's not really curious about her, he supposes he'll have to see her soon, perhaps lay with her, then he'll come back to his other girls. Life is mostly good for him when he loses himself in them, in drinks and throwing elaborate parties, in forgetting the overwhelming duties that lie ahead.

Suddenly, the doors to the baths open, certain high ranking ladies could also come in, so he curiously looks over, to a sight that makes his heart pound in his fucking chest. She's beautiful, surely but he shouldn't be so affected, when her eyes catch his and he's dying to know just what's behind them.

Satoru just doesn't think that way.

You catch sight of him as Miwa undoes your hair fully, letting it fall and brush against bare shoulders, you feel exposed then, to his insanely bright eyes. He is as beautiful as they say, perhaps even moreso, the glimpses of the hard lines of his face, as the soft lanterns cast a glow above.

Surrounded by four beautiful women, but he's staring right at you instead. You figure he's curious who you are, and brush off the feeling. Miwa dampens your hair and proceeds to massage it in your scalp, you sigh at how good it feels, head falling back a bit, eyes fluttering shut.

Satoru can't take not knowing who you are one more moment.

“Who is she?” He asks Lola then, and she blinks a bit, tilting her head, her dark locks falling over a shoulder.

“I’ve never seen her, Gojo,” she looks at her scrutinizingly. “She is… perhaps going to fill Concubine Ana’s place?”

“I heard someone would be soon,” says Concubine Lara now. “She’s very beautiful.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s from here, however,” Lola says curiously. “Her attendant also looks unfamiliar.”

“Hmm.” He’s eyeing you carefully, as you step down into the waters, you dip your head back and then stand up, and that’s when he sees your entire body from that soaked, thin white material. It clings to every delicate line and curve of a body that makes him ache.

You’re so lovely, though you’re not even looking in his direction, leaning back against the wall and sighing, your breasts gently rising and falling, as if begging for his mouth, for his hands. He can’t help but be drawn to you, looking like some beautiful painting, serene and ever so precious, the need to cup your face was as big as his want to cup your tits.

He’s a lover of all beauty, he has four gorgeous concubines kissing all over him right now, but there’s something about you that leaves him breathless. God, he should feel truly sorry for whoever his wife would be with you here as well, another beauty but one that’s so perfect he can’t fucking speak or think.

His wife truly wouldn’t have a chance if he got you.

He steps away then, much to their displeasure, their pretty pouts, he smiles down at them. “Never fear, I want to find out who she is.”

“Of course, your majesty.” They all incline their heads, none of them were really jealous, though they all pouted a bit that he gave Lola some more attention.

It wasn't that Lola was more beautiful, she was very smart and enjoyed playing chess with him. So he tended to just be there more to hang out with her, having the nicest pavilion wasn't really him either, Lola just decorated the shit out of things and had everything immaculate with her staff.

Aside from that they all got along extremely well, and knew he'd marry. They were a little worried he'd spread his time between five of them, but they know he's proficient at managing them all.

Now, eyes locked on your perfect frame, he walks through the warm waters, feeling them softly ripple as he pushes through the water, until you feel his movements, opening your eyes.

Your eyes, the way they look at him, unreadable and so beautiful, he puts on a charm, a smile, but you just blink, water droplets falling from them as you straighten up, running your hands through silken strands. “I’m emperor Gojo.”

You just eye him further, saying nothing, as he blinks in confusion at you. You turn a bit, sighing, the sadness he hadn’t noticed now prevalent on your face, before your eyes return to his. “An honor, your majesty.”

“Please don’t be formal.” Maybe he is like his mother a bit you muse, taking in the beautiful blue eyes even closer, far too blue, like the sky but with a myriad of shades, some you’ve never seen, framed by thick snowy lashes.

He is a beautiful man, by far, but one that has no interest to you. He seems content with his four concubines, who are whispering right now about you behind his back. “Emperor, then?”

“Call me Gojo, are you… here to fill one of the new concubine positions?” You smile a bit at that, a mean quirk of your lips.

Is this what held him up from tea, fucking four women in the baths? Even for royalty this was quite too much. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“God, what a shame,” he steps closer, until his fingers brush against your cheeks, the sensation feels better than you wished it did. You wished it felt horrible, a betrayal of your love, but the touch makes you tremble, and you can’t lie and say its with disgust.

Satoru is enamored when he touches you under the water then, big hand on the small of your back pressing just so, taking it over as he steps closer, so tall and imposing in the water. Your breasts brush against his abdomen, as your breaths quicken, a mix of irritation and something more you don't want to admit, your nipples pressing on his skin as clear arousal happens from his proximity.

You look down shyly, studying his chest, seeing scars scattered across it. You've heard a lot of his military prowess, but didn’t expect him to be that involved. You almost trace a finger across one of them, raised up and pink, before trailing your gaze back to his eyes, so intense to look at it’s difficult, but it’s also impossible to look away once they’ve caught you.

You both stay there for a moment in the quiet, saying nothing and just looking at each other, when he leans down, pressing you along the warmth of the hard wall behind you. One of his long thighs presses against your heat, and you hate how your body reacts, how your cunt pulses around nothing, tummy clenching then, you know the feeling of desire, so you can’t even lie to yourself.

It feels like such a betrayal of the one you loved, of Suguru, what was he doing now? You cannot be like this, and for a man who doesn't want to even know you, couldn’t even meet you. He made you look so stupid to everyone, and to what, be fed grapes by naked women? An action he can accomplish anytime.

You bite back a sigh, mind swirling, the steam of the water rising and entering your lungs, your heart fucking hammering. Satoru leans down further, too close, far too close, an arm on either side of you, strong arms bulging with muscles, veins raised under his pale white skin, shades of blue and green that you want to trail your fingertips across.

You must remember who you are, where you are.

There are no friends here, there is no love, lest you be so foolish, lest you be so enamored by pretty eyes, as if your love didn’t have those too. It’s one thing to do your duty, but your heart cannot fall prey to such tactics, he clearly is expert at them, every touch and look feels calculated, like a play unfolding, with the prettiest actor.

“Your majesty…” you trail off, this wasn’t appropriate behavior for him, was it? Perhaps it was, the man wants anything but his bride to be.

“Gojo,” he corrects, a soft chuckle then as he assesses your face at this angle, so tall over you. Satoru was taller than anyone, so it’s how he is, bigger, imposing, but it makes you feel even more fragile in his hold, the thoughts making his cock ache. “So fucking pretty, god.” He murmurs then, and earns your blush.

The outward praise and the lewd way he says it is too much, he chuckles as he sees it, flushed color on your cheeks, when his lips hover over yours now. You think for some insane moment he’ll kiss you. Your hands go to his chest, as if to stop him, when you feel his steady heart beat under your palm, his warm skin even hotter than the water.

“Can you at least tell me your name, mysterious girl?” He asks, and that’s when you snap out of it, for just a moment.

When you say it he immediately recognizes the name, faltering and stepping back, eyes wide, his lips parted as if he means to say something, but nothing comes out. You can’t help but smile, it’s a mean little smile, batting your lashes as you tilt your head, as if you’re stating something so casual, not the fact that you’re the very bride he’s avoiding.

“Indeed, it was such a shame you couldn't meet me for tea, your majesty.” His jaw clenches at that, as you watch him try to save face.

You can’t be his bride, you can’t be…

He knows then, the clear hurt on your face, the sound in your voice, that he did indeed say fuck tradition and miss meeting you to fuck his four girls instead. He didn’t think he’d care how you felt, he didn’t think it would affect him until he saw the lip you’re biting, the anger flashing in your eyes.

“I… well, I…” he’s trailing off, him, the emperor of the nation, lost to an angry little brat in the waters, one clearly relishing in this one moment. He glares now, feeling himself harder as you scowl, why are you so pretty like that!? “I was otherwise occupied.”

“Yes, indeed, I see you were otherwise occupied,” you eye the girls behind his shoulders, whispering to each other wildly, when you push him back, hands on his chest. “It's rude not to even meet me after I got dragged on a five day journey by ship, you know.”

He is eyeing your hands on his chest that he now pins there for a moment, gripping your delicate wrist with long fingers. It feels too good then, his hold on you, doing things to your body you don’t want to even try to comprehend. Your eyes lock again, as he speaks. “You're my... you can't be... you…”

A sigh escapes your lips, as you tug your hands back from his firm hold, before your dumb brain thinks about those long fingers one more moment. You lick your lips, feeling your throat has suddenly gone dry, nodding. “Yes, I'm your betrothed, I suppose this is our first meeting.”

“I suppose it is…” He trails off, brushing back strands of that silken white hair, looking down now at your body again, in a way that feels like he’s fucking touching you. Part of you wants to shrink back, but the other makes you stand firm, tilting your chin up and keeping eye contact.

“I'll leave you to your pretty concubines, I'm afraid I don't intend on becoming one.” You turn and climb up those steps, the slip forming to you like a goddess, as you turn him down.

No one has ever turned Emperor Gojo down, and not because of his power, his wealth, no everyone wanted him for so much more. His prowess in bed, his body, his face, his entire aura, yet here you are, turning and giving him a little smile as your attendant hands you a towel.

He repeats your name softly, you look back at him, smiling again, that mean little one he’d love to kiss off you, a thought that makes no fucking sense. He watches as those droplets fall from your curves, the material rippling and clinging to every part of you, fucking him up to distraction.

“Perhaps you'll make it to the wedding, your majesty,” you say, wrapping yourself up with the towel, and bowing - a mocking fucking bow that makes him glare right at you as you walk off.

He doesn’t even go back to the four girls waiting, he is so confused by what just happened, instead drying off and then sitting in the sauna, leaning his head back on one of the wooden benches. As if the steam and heat will just fucking sap whatever the fuck you just did to him away.

*****

It’s the day of your wedding to Emperor Gojo.

You’ve not seen him since that fateful meeting in the baths, and you’ve avoided him actively when you’ve run into him, every time you see him you either duck behind a pillar, a fruit stand, something. Once you couldn’t so you just inclined your head in a bow and continued, infuriating the living fuck out of him. He’s seen you hiding and ducking like a foolish child.

He doesn’t actively seek you out however, he doesn’t make any of the three meetings you’re supposed to have before marriage. So it’s both of you just avoiding each other like a plague, he’s laughing with that booming sound of his, throwing his head back as he walks arm in arm with his girls. You stay alone, just your attendants walking behind you.

People are spreading rumors about his clear lack of interest, and Satoru hears them frequently. When one of his concubines says something to the other about how he must not find you to his liking, he almost wants to laugh, because that sure the fuck wasn’t the case. If it were looks alone, you were the epitome of everything he finds attractive, but it’s more than that.

For the past few days his mind keeps fucking drifting to you, he can’t stand it truly, when he was getting his cock sucked by Lola and had to shut his eyes, wondering what it’d be like between your plush lips. He was so frustrated he couldn’t even keep it hard - and that has never happened to Emperor Gojo, notorious in fact for round after round.

Lola had been as perplexed by him at this development, but now when he walks past you and inhales your sweet scent, his cock is hard from that. Absolutely infuriating, he wonders if your country is one of witches truly, and you’re here to just fuck with him, ignoring him on top of it. Your chin up in the air, stubborn and rude as you walk by in those pretty robes.

It’s an agonizing few days, for Satoru, and a dreadful few days for you. All you can think of is Suguru, you keep writing and writing, knowing he’ll never see it, until your tears soak the ink on the paper. You’d hug your pillow in that huge bed, in that lonely room, hating yourself for even finding Satoru attractive, forcing those thoughts out of your head, so you can remember.

He didn’t want this anymore than you did.

The thoughts of that reign supreme now, that it wasn’t as if Satoru wanted this marriage, and in that way perhaps you two could find some common ground, some agreement that keeps the contact minimal. You’re knowledgeable about what your role is as a wife, how to serve him sexually and domestically, so you hope that will help you separate it all.

The only experience you had was Suguru, his loving kisses and his desperate tugs at your bodice, he’d slip a nipple into his mouth while hidden in the corners, behind the curtains, wherever he could get a moment. Brief, beautiful moments, where you fell deeper each time, that can’t just fade, it can’t just disappear.

To know you’ll watch your husband with several women, that he’ll not just sleep with them, but spend time with them, have babies with them, and you can’t even write the man you love is an even more bitter pill to swallow. You know it’s a man’s world, of course it is, but the cruelty there is a joke, at least back home men tried to keep their mistresses hidden.

You know Suguru would have never been that way.

You try to push past the hurt as you enter the immaculate hall where you are to bind yourself forever to a stranger. You walk quietly, looking at the man who doesn’t want to be here any more than you did, truly, eyeing the tall white haired man wearing his thick dark blue sokutai. It was not a traditional one, the robes altered to reveal far too much of his muscled chest, as Satoru liked to do you noticed.

He seemed to relish in how attractive everyone found him, a trait that just turned you off more truly, but you suppose none of it matters, this is all for political gain, for a show. There will be nothing between you two, even though with each step bringing you closer, you feel the pressure eating at you, you feel the walls closing the fuck in until you almost can’t move.

The eyes on you, the whispers, and now Satoru’s blue eyes drinking you in, you actually for one moment tremble, before putting on your fake fucking smile, the one that you practiced in the mirror. Making gracious head movements as your robes trail, whispers of silk and satin along the laid out rug you’re walking across, meeting his gaze finally.

Satoru’s heart hammers in his fucking chest as you come closer, as all of you enters his field of vision. To say you were beautiful before seems an understatement, now looking at you leaves him speechless, throat dry as you wear that beautiful sky blue ceremonial juunihitoe, layers of blue and white, embossed with silver flowers just flowing from your body.

His pulse races so badly he can hear the blood flow in his ears, swallowing nervously as you clutch your hands together until you’re in front of him. He tentatively takes your hand, swallowing it in his huge grip, fingers wrapping around your own, not saying anything, but looking at you so intensely. You see none of his concubines attended, perhaps they do not join such festivities.

You wonder if he can’t wait to go back, and you wonder if it bothers you either way, as the ceremony begins. It’s long and tiring, as they say the words that you both scarcely pay attention to, as they bond you together in a contract that is iron clan, that will never be something you can get out of. You feel your freedom - did you ever have it?- slip away with every word.

Satoru is surprisingly quiet, you’re not sure what you expected, something mocking or some sort of boredom, but he’s frowning, eyeing you over and over, as if searching for something. You wonder if he’s trying to find a flaw, or if he’s just trying to find something he might like about you enough to handle the times he would have to spend.

In the first month, he would have to spend all his time in this pavilion, not to say he would not go off and do things, but husbands - even emperors - were supposed to spend some time devoted to their new brides. You imagine he wouldn’t like it anymore than you would.

There is music playing, and beautiful dancers waving their fans, when you both sip on each of the three cups of sake, as is tradition, speaking the words. Satoru places his lips on one end of the little ceramic dish, then hands it to you, eyeing the red painted on your lips.

He notices how it shimmers, that your makeup has been done clearly, there's color under your eyes, a pinkish hue that makes them appear even prettier. He catches sight of the blush along your precious cheeks - precious, why did he think that? The thought irritates him, along with not being able to rip his fucking eyes off you, when you two continue the ceremony.

Eventually it’s well past night time, and he's prepared in just a thin Kimono from his attendant, loosely tied. “Master Gojo…”

“Yes, Ijichi?” He’s very close with him, Ijichi has been serving Gojo since he was a teen himself, he eyes the tired man, who sighs a bit, tightening the sash.

“I think your new bride is…”

“Speak it, you’re allowed.”

“She’s lovely,” Satoru blinks in surprise then, Ijichi has never said that about a single one of the ladies here, to the point Satoru assumed maybe he didn’t even like women. “It’s bold.”

“You think a lady is pretty? That’s new.” Satoru teases, and Ijichi stands back, serious look as always on his face, but he’s also shifting a bit, nervously.

“I think many women are pretty, I suppose I meant her… not just her outer appearance.” Satoru tilts his head in confusion now.

“Not just appearance?”

“She’s caring, funny, and intelligent. She was very kind to me as well…” Satoru could swear he sees a blush for the first time on Ijichi’s cheeks, is it possible your witchcraft has even affected his butler?

“I see, you like her.”

“Very much so, I just wonder if you might too, I know you’re against this marriage, but you never know.” Satoru looks away then, sighing a bit.

“Not sure she’s fond of me.”

“You did miss tea-”

“Are you on her side!? You serve me.”

“Yes, Master Gojo.” He’s all quiet again, as everyone in the fucking kingdom is offended for you at this point it seemed, from the lowest servant to his attendant, to his damn mother.

“I appreciate your thoughts, I’m sorry. I’m tired.” Satoru explains, and Ijichi nods, clearing his throat now.

“Shall you go to her chambers?”

“That’s what I must do.”

Satoru won’t admit he’s nervous, that his hands are sweating, walking over to your chambers now and entering them. Ijichi bows at you, while you’re sitting in front of the vanity, your attendant brushing out your hair. You look at them both in surprise, as if you didn’t expect him to come, even on your wedding night.

“My lady, congratulations on your wedding.” Ijichi says, and Satoru watches you soften, a sweet little fucking smile that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get from you, one that lights up your beautiful face and stops his heart.

“Thank you so kindly, Mr. Ijichi.” You smile again as he blushes, turning away and disappearing down one of the halls quietly, leaving Satoru with you. He inhales the sweetness of your scent, mixing with the incense you've lit, looking at the attendant then, who is blushing as well.

“You may leave,” Satoru orders Miwa out then, she curtseys and runs off, leaving you alone with a stranger, an emperor. He eyes you curiously, tilting his head as he studies your robes, light blue, your breasts exposed down the center, showcasing much of your skin. “Stand up.”

“Of course, your majesty,” his jaw tenses as you speak, as you stand slowly and his blue eyes drink the sight of you in. “Surprised you weren’t too busy to come.”

“You’re awfully angry about tea, hmm?” He steps closer now, long strides with his impossibly long legs, towering over you when he’s close, so close. You swallow nervously, but put on a brave face, a fake smile.

“Perhaps we should get on with things quickly, so we can have an heir.”

“What now?” His thin brows lower over his eyes, which narrow.

“Indeed, the quicker you put your seed in me, the quicker we can be done, at least one would look good for the kingdom.” Your words fucking baffle him, when you step back, undoing the knot of your robe then.

“What are…” He trails off, blushing when you’re naked, his cheeks burning as he sees your beautiful body, the one he’d jerked off to just the fucking outline of the other day.

He doesn’t jerk off, he has women for that, but he couldn’t stop himself, cumming more in his hand from the looks of you than with any of his women. He can’t help but look at your pretty breasts, they sway just a bit as they’re released, and you shift just a bit, hands knotted together in front of you, as if you’re preparing for an inspection, seemingly calm.

“What are you going on about?” His eyes slip lower, across the soft curve of your hip and stomach, even lower, to your cunt just there tempting him between the plush of your thighs that are pressed together.

“An heir, it’ll make things easier for us both,” he chuckles then, a mean smile on those vermillion lips. “Should I prepare you, your majesty?”

Satoru’s about to fucking lose it, his fists clench at his sides, trying to look in your eyes and not those beautiful fucking tits just begging for his hands. He pulls it together, snorting as if he finds you amusing and not heartbreakingly beautiful. “As if you know what to do.”

You step closer now, hips swaying as if to torture him with each undulation, all bold just like in those baths, you’re not the shy and practiced girl, you’re not the one giggling and teasing. You’re not the girl he expected, not even fucking close, how your fingertips brush the cool silk of his robe over his overheated skin.

Satoru was used to being the one in control, just what the fuck was this, how you’re acting, what you’re doing!? He is furiously blushing now at your proximity, annoyed you have whatever odd effect this is, when you speak - “I can make this at least enjoyable for you.”

“Tch, 'you think you're adequate at it?” You smile just a bit, it’s not that cute one you gave Ijichi, it's evil and making him harder.

“I've had instructions on how to please my future husband, there are many books that show it, I was given them to read.” Satoru laughs, trying to play it off, when he undoes the tie finally, as his robes land on the floor at a pool of his feet. He’s just in a fundoshi, a thin strip of material showcasing a straining erection.

“Let's see it, then.” He says, all cocky, until you're on your fucking knees before him, slipping down his fundoshi ever so carefully like some professional. He’s sputtering, unsure what to think - maybe you've done this before, but why should that bother him!? Why does that thought make him infuriated, as you have him whimpering from your breath on his inner thigh.

You have his cock free, it is so heavy that after slapping his stomach it just hangs there, thick and already hard from just seeing you. You bite your lip as the cool stone floor hurts your knees, just a bit. You take your hand carefully, stroking him slowly, from the base where he has tufts of white hair, to his pink tip leaking milky drops, admiring the veins that wrap it.

You could swear you hear a whimper, but your heart is pounding in your ears so much it’s hard to know. You swallow nervously and put on your act, running your thumb over his tip and smiling up at the man, his entire body carved and chiseled to such perfection.

“I thought I'd have to get you in this state, how curious since I hadn’t even touched you yet? the books didn't mention it being ready…” Satoru glares now, you're insulting him without even knowing it!? You’re casually calling out his desperation for you, that he’s hard when he just sees you.

He struggles to handle your insolence, your question appears innocent but he doesn’t buy it, not with you. He entangles a hand in your hair then, pulling it firmly as you lap at his tip, almost making him cum from that, while he wraps your hair around his fist, the sight of you enough he could bust ropes all over your pretty face.

“All right, let's see what you've learned, hmm?” He taunts, but you just nod a bit, stroking him then, little hand up and down in gentle twists. He’s tense now, as it feels even better, when you suck him into your mouth, just the tip at first, swirling your tongue around it and tonguing out the salty precum. “Fuck…”

He hopes that whisper was quiet enough, as you take more of him, every inch deeper and deeper from each stroke and movement of his cock in your mouth, while you just look at him like that. Like you want to end him with your pretty eyes and demon mouth, it shouldn’t even feel this good, but his eyes roll back in his head as he fucks your hot mouth, faster and faster.

He’s gasping out, he has never felt anything better even from the most practiced girls, no you have the perfect suction, the way your tongue swirls is obscene, as he fucks your throat and feels you taking so much. He almost thinks you could fucking take it all, seeing the slobber glisten on his cock, moaning at the sight of how your eyes flutter shut when he thrusts his hips inside.

God you feel too good, you have him losing his mind with your little gasps and gags on his cock. “Slutty fucking throat,” he whispers, you pull back just a bit, glaring at him, only for him to whimper, and cry out - “You’re doing s'good, sweetheart…”

Sweetheart?

Slut?

What a conundrum of a man you think, you feel him pulsing in your mouth, but also you feel your tummy clenching, something you didn't expect. You didn’t expect to enjoy this part of sex truly, you didn’t expect to enjoy anything without love, but something about his snowy lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, about his sweet cries, it does something to you.

Your nails are pressing on his muscled thighs, leaving marks on that perfect pale skin when he rips you off him then, saliva dripping from your mouth along with his precum. You’re pulling back to sit on your heels, as he lets go of your hair, and you wipe away some of the drool that’s gathered.

“Um… was I not adequate?” You hate that you actually care if you were, but then Satoru Gojo laughs without humor, standing you up now unceremoniously.

“Not adequate?”' He is lifting you like it’s nothing, your feet dangling off the fucking floor then, when Satoru Gojo slams his lips on yours, shocking you as you cling to him tightly, not to hold him but not to fall. He’s got your thighs on his hips, as he kisses you desperately, tongue devouring your mouth, every corner of it.

You’re lost for a moment, feeling your cunt leak arousal on his tummy, as his huge hands are on your ass, squeezing while he’s tasting himself on your lips. You’re kissing him back without fully realizing it, maybe it’s the surprise, maybe it’s something more that you don’t want to think of, and you get no chance to, when he’s carrying you across the room.

You find yourself thrown right on your enormous bed, decorated in more blues, the color of the Gojo clan, the colors of his eyes - some of them at least, for when he’s hovering over you, saliva string dissipating between your mouths, they’re some dark shade you can’t fathom. His pupils are so blown out it seems like they’re black, his breaths heavy and loud in your ears.

You didn’t think he’d kiss you.

Satoru Gojo’s elegant long fingers slip down your body as he feels it tremble, slipping down further, until his fingers find your slick cunt then. You gasp at the sensation of it, the delicious swipe right up and down, as his plump lips kiss down one of the soft globes of your breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth. You’re biting back your own moan as he toys with your clit, it twitches under his touch.

“Soaking wet, from sucking my cock, slutty.” He taunts, dangerous voice, even while he’s rutting his cock on the silk blankets, sucking on another pretty nipple as you cry out. The sounds of you end him.

“Y-your majesty, you don't need to do all of that,” you tug at his hair, pulling him off, closing your thighs on his hand now, just trapping him as if he won’t keep rolling those circles. “Ah! Just... get it done, okay?”

You can’t like this.

You can’t betray the memory. And for what, a man who’s doing what he must do tonight, then will run to his favorites? You can’t.

Your words make the emperor pause, looking up and seeing you then, your plump lips are swollen from his kisses, your skin flushed, eyes glittering as your breaths come quicker and quicker. He stops his fingers for a moment, god he’s dying to be inside of you, he wants your cunt to know the shape of him, fuck only him, a maddening thought raging with another.

Your words to get it done, they make sense, they were what he was going to do, until you stunned him again. His eyes trail across your face, seeing the apprehension mixed with clear desire, before trailing down your body ever so slowly. All of the concubines wanted Satoru, all of the women he’s ever been with have begged for him, and here you were, 'doing your duty'.

Something gnaws at him, he leans up and pulls his fingers off, as you look at him curiously, blinking rapidly as if to right yourself. “Do I need to suck you more?” You ask softly, and he shakes his head, clearing his throat then, as he sees the confusion making your brows knit together.

“No, you don’t need to suck me more, you sure liked it hmm?”

“Um, I could just touch you?” He grips your wrist as you try to do so, trailing a hand down his hard abdomen, pinning it before it touches his cock, aching to bury itself inside you.

“Tonight, we will not consummate the marriage.”

The words hurt you deeply, the sense of rejection making your throat close up, you have to at least fulfill your duty here, it’s all you’ve ever even been trained for, and he’s shutting it down.

“Oh, um… did I displease you?” Your voice isn’t confident like earlier, no it’s shy and unsure, he frowns a bit, wondering what the layers of you would be like, to peel them off slowly like your robes.

The thought of a woman not wanting him, especially you, infuriates him. “No, you did not displease me, foolish girl.”

You glare at that, how foolish you are he thinks to himself, do you not see how clearly he desires you, how much he was affected by your naked form, what your moth did to him? He picks you up by your hips, and shoves you up the bed then, making you blink in confusion at the change. “Emperor…”

“So formal, naked in front of me, after I fucked your throat?” He taunts in a whisper, kissing down your tummy with hot brushes of his mouth on your skin. He watches it tense as he dreams of making it bulge with his cock, seeing you tremble under his caress. “Answer me.”

“Fine, Gojo then,” you manage, it’s not as if it’s his first name after all. You’re trying not to cry out as his hands press into your hips, but you fail, head sinking back into the soft satin of the sky blue pillows under your head.

“Are you untouched?” His words earn another blush, averting your eyes from the man settling between your thighs now, thighs that tense on either side as he shoves them apart with his shoulders. “Can’t use your words?”

“I have not lain with a man, no, but I am not untouched.” Satoru's furious that anyone saw your pretty body, but he makes no comment at your honest answer.

Truly, he absolutely hates tradition and wouldn't care if you were or were not a virgin, in fact he prefers experience with his women, but for some fucking reason that thought irritates him, to picture you cumming for someone. Did you smile at them pretty and sweet, or the cruel little sexy look you gave him instead?

Did they drink your cunt, like he’s dying to at this moment? When he sees your pretty pussy, glistening and soaked, he moans softly. He parts your puffy lips then, as you bite your lower lip nervously, thighs trembling on either side of his head, while your slick pools from your little hole. He’s marveling at how wet it is, while his breath ghosts over it, making you jerk.

“Y-your majesty, that's not - ah- in the books!? Mnh what are you - oh!” You’re lost for words, when Gojo has his tongue slipping up your slit, hot and wet lapping a stripe right up it. You’ve never felt something like that, fingers felt great but what the fuck was his demonic tongue delving between your folds? “What are you doing!?”

He’s smirking against your cunt at your cute, cut off little question, seeing your mouth is wide in a slutty O, fuck you’re pretty. “Not everything is in your books, sweetheart,” he teases softly, and he laps up your slit again, making you whine out loud this time, your little fingers are gripping his shoulders, your nails pressing in and just making him harder.

“You’re… doing…” You’re done with speech apparently, not when Satoru’s lapping the juices pouring from your hole, his nose bumping your clit, your hands pressing deeper, feeling the muscles of his biceps as your breaths come quicker and quicker, desire washing over you. “You don’t have to do that!?”

“I'll have you cum on my face tonight,” his words are now muffled as he buries his face in your sweetness, letting the juices drown him and the heady desire consume him, pressing his cock on that mattress and almost cumming from it. “Over and over.”

He’s whispered those last words against your cunt, you’re lost in the sensations then, crying out in desperate little sobs as he works your body. He feels you tense, feels your cunt pulsing around his tongue when he fucks into your gummy walls that grip him so fucking good. He shoves your thighs apart further, dragging you impossibly closer to his face.

You're lost in how good it feels, no longer pulling him off, but tugging him closer without realizing it, pleasure overtaking your mind as your cries mix with his filthy suction, drinking all the liquid just fucking pouring. He’s moaning and rutting his cock, blue eyes looking up between the valley of your breasts, and it’s too intimate, it’s too fucking much.

You've cum before with your lover, but never have you done this, this intimacy of his mouth on you. You’ve never felt this, so intense, so much pressure in your tummy just building, the heat spreading throughout your body further with every vibration of his mouth on you, sending you closer to the edge.

You're screaming out, hips arching as he makes filthy sounds with your squelching cunt, he’s so close to cumming from just this, lost in every sensation of your body. Fuck, he's never enjoyed this so much, and he loves to please - but never was he about to bust his seed all over blankets while he fucking did it, and god he can't help but pay attention to every little thing.

Every movement, every twitch, every pretty cry while your hips arch up for more, until you’re using him, until you’re riding his face so sexy, he doesn’t think you know you are, but he’s fucking you deeper with his tongue. You yank on his hair, as if to tug him off, earning his chuckle as he just clamps down then, sucking your twitchy little clit into his mouth.

That’s when it’s too fucking much.

“Ah!” You’re screaming out, shameless now, while he lavishes every part of your cunt with his tongue, you swear nothing is fucking left unexplored, and now your clit, so sensitive, so stimulated. “Sensitive - mnh!”

“Good,” he’s smirking with his chin coated in you, sucking your clit into his mouth again as you’re screaming out for him. God, he wants you to call him Satoru, he can't say it though, that’s madness. Your cunt is madness, in how he wants to drown in it, how he wants your thighs to suffocate him. “Cum. Now.”

He devours devours your pussy after his clear fucking order, Tongue flicking on your clit as he hums on it, teeth just barely grazing it until you shatter for him. There are no words, just filthy, messy sounds, slurping and squishing echoing in your brand new chambers, while you cum all over your new husband's face, and fuck if you’ve never felt anything like it.

Your eyes are rolled back in your skull, shaking violently as the waves just rush through you, brain short circuiting with how much pleasure he’s rushed through you with his wicked mouth. You're shaking as you come down, as the orgasm leaves aftershocks, pulsing around nothing at all, craving things you shouldn’t, wanting impossibly more.

The pleasure is so intense you’re dizzy, barely able to fucking see, as you’re trying to gain your senses, orient yourself, looking down as Satoru presses one more kiss on your pretty cunt. He’s leaning up then, smirking down at you, pressing a kiss to your lips, when you taste yourself you're a blushing mess.

“You’re yummy, aren’t you? Do you like tasting it?” His voice is husky, his heavy cock brushing your thigh, hot and twitchy, leaking that sticky substance as you’re struggling to form a fucking word.

“I… you… we…” He’s chuckling, you’d scowl at his audacity, but your brain is altogether too fucked out.

“All that talk, all those books you read, it’s cute,” he brushes your hair back and smirks. “But I don't think you're ready f'me yet, sweetheart.”

You’re opening your mouth to say anything, trying to catch your breath as he stands up, bending down to snatch up his robe, lazily tying it over his body as if he’s casually chatting, not fucking your brain up. You sit up and look at him then, at the man you barely know, his eyes linger across your body as he swipes his chin, and you see it’s glistening, coated with your slick.

“You’re messy, tsk.” He smirks again, you’d like to smack that smirk off his face if you could form a thought!? You finally tug the blanket over you, he chuckles, murmuring - cute - like you’re amusing to him then.

“So where will you go, Emperor Gojo, will you go to your concubines to cum?' he chuckles then again, fucking infuriating. He leans down low, tilting your chin up as you look at him.

“Maybe I will, would that bother you, sweetheart?” You shake your head, it can't bother you, and you won’t fucking let it. No way, this will be your life now, you can’t let one interaction distract you, make you forget everything.

“Why would I care, you’ll be doing that all of our marriage, won’t you?” Your question makes him tense. “If roles were reversed, would you care?”

“What nonsense is that?” He’s scowling, and your mean little smile is back, he’d have to fuck that look off you one day.

“It would not bother me, it’s expected.”

“Ah,” he shakes his head, caressing your cheek almost tenderly, you feel foolish fucking thinking it. “You're not the best liar, that won't help you play the court, you know, you’ll have to get a better poker face.”

The mother fucker turns and walks away then, leaving you alone after he’d just licked your cunt, every inch to be precise, after he’d kissed you, looked at you in ways that bother you. The guilt sets in, hot and heavy, you’re crying for the first time in so fucking long, remembering your other vows, the ones that you promised to Suguru.

And now these are your fucking vows.

Just who was Satoru Gojo, and did you care more than you’d like to? No way, you shake that off, trying to process just what the fuck happened, as you tug at the pillows and sob into them. You miss home, you miss Suguru, and now instead of consummating it, you could handle that, you did something worse.

You enjoyed it all.

*****

Satoru doesn't go to his concubines that night, sure he let you think that, but how the fuck could he after he'd just tasted the sweetest nectar that exists right from your cunt? When he'd had your throat constricting his cock, those eyes looking up at him under those lashes?

How could he go try and be with one of them when he just wants to go back in there and sink inside your perfect cunt? Wreck your thoughts of him, rearrange your brain and your guts with his cock? Show you things you never did with whoever was on your mind, make sure you'd only think of him.

He held back for two reasons, one, you were fucking him for duty. Something about it just felt wrong, as a man who hates tradition and duty, but also as a man who needs to be desired in all aspects. The slight fear and nerves in your eyes were enough to make him realize he can't do his ‘duty’ like this, not this way.

He's throbbing when he's back in his chambers, staring at the high ceilings and intricate patterns along it, taking several breaths. He shuts his eyes and all he can see is you lying under him, he can still feel your sticky wetness on his fingers, taste you on his tongue.

He quickly stomps in long strides to grab a caffer of wine, pouring it into one of the silver goblets on his elaborately carved wood night stand. He downs it as quick as he can, hoping he can get drunk enough to sleep after that, to not run back in your room and take you for the first time, fuck he'd take you in every way.

He's soon grabbing his cock, he could have let you suck him off, but something about that when you didn't truly want to, just using knowledge from books, also made him feel wrong to do so. Instead, he could have any girl in the fucking palace please him, but he's stroking his cock like a boy in leading strings, not like the Emperor Gojo at all.

He's laying back on his bed, the overhanging curtains around the four posts closed as if he could hide from even himself what he's doing, stroking his sensitive cock and picturing only one person. Maddening, insanity, he doesn't want a wife, you don't want a husband, but all he can see is how your tits jiggle, while you jerked in his hold, while you whined out and gasped.

He can feel the sting of you yanking his locks as his hand strokes his cock up and down, achingly slow, a maddening pace. He's whimpering again, just like you made him do with your damn demon mouth. Maybe you're some witch, to have him stroking his veiny length, spitting on his cock and wishing it was your juices making him slick instead.

As he jerks himself, touching his tip, he leans back against the giant wood headboard, crying out your name before he can stop himself. Cheeks flush, lashes flutter, while his cock is twitching in his hand, the sounds lewd in his empty chambers, just breathy cries, whispers, and the sound of his hand moving up and down his glistening cock.

He finally cums, cursing and moaning - ‘f-fuuckk’ - while his cum pours all over his hand, an embarrassing amount that he'd like to explain away as not having cum today, as being edged by your throat, but the sight of so much milky seed all over his hand says much more than he'll admit. He's never seen so much, still pulsing out of his pretty pink tip.

“Fuck…” he quickly cleans up, stripping down to nothing and staring at the looking glass in his room. He's got a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, shaking his head as he looks at his own dilated eyes, wondering…

Just who is his new bride?

Well this is gonna be longer than I thought lol! Hope you all enjoyed <3

taglist 1 - @kimkimoruo @dazed-lavender @kitchen-cryptid @labelt-san @enyathedrakaina @astrasworldsblog @7thsthings @kitassecretgf @heavenlystarstruck @gh0stgirl333 @wisepeachwitch @jeankirschteinsimp @mochii-13 @gojom0jo @liasacountgothacked @ic-slxt @lumilarity @unwillingstars @cl3xr @duooy @jo-potter1 @tojicidal @captainsarcasmandsass @plimplimmeiododoi @ciciley12-blog @riddhimabhatt @cinnamonpinktea @ravenbc @nienieeeeeeee @ihateexistence @yesdere @p1nkfl0wers @luvsymai @yihona-san06 @mysticranger575 @bunn1o @aldebrana @trishiepo0 @altyx @dyedscarletletter @vinsushi @crazyartist0001-blog @kitty-yaps @lnette04 @kindasortafairytale @yasmin-oviedo @lvc-lv @ashlantismorning @babychickenscareme

#satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk gojo #geto suguru #jujustu kaisen #satoru smut #satoru gojo x f!reader #gojo x female reader #emperor!gojo #dividers by sweetmelodygraphics

8K notes · View notes

maskedbyghost · 4 months ago

Text

Thin Ice

They can't stand each other—until she falls through the ice and Simon has to save her. One cabin, one blanket, and way too many feelings later… things aren’t so simple anymore. smut, +18, mdni

The wind was freezing, cutting through your clothes and biting at your skin. It wasn’t just the usual chill that made your cheeks feel cold—it was the kind of cold that went deeper, into your bones, making everything feel stiff. It was relentless, gnawing at you with every step, until even breathing felt harder.

The air was so sharp it made your jaw tighten, your body fighting against the freezing grip that seemed to sink deeper with each passing minute.

Which is probably why you were arguing.

Again.

“I told you to take the left path,” you snapped, hugging your arms tighter to your body as your boots crunched over the snow-covered trail. “But no, ‘I know a shortcut,’ you said—”

Simon didn’t even look at you. He just stayed ahead of you by a few paces. “It was a shortcut. You just walk slow as shit.”

You scoffed. “I walk fine. Maybe if you didn’t stomp around like you’re trying to scare off every animal in a ten-mile radius—”

“You cold?” he interrupted, glancing over his shoulder.

You bristled. “No.”

“Good,” he muttered. “’Cause I’m not carryin’ your frozen corpse back to base.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it gave you a headache. “Trust me, if anyone’s dying out here, I’m making damn sure it’s you first.”

He actually snorted. Just once, and you hated that you liked the sound.

The landscape stretched out in brittle white silence, the forest thinning as the frozen river came into view—cracked and black-veined under the snow, but passable if you were careful.

Which, unfortunately, you were not.

One step. That’s all it took. You weren’t even trying to be dramatic—you just followed him across the ice, grumbling under your breath, your lips numb and chapped and fingers stiff—

Then the ice groaned, a sharp, splintering sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Wait—” Simon started.

Too late.

Your foot went through, then your leg, then the whole world cracked and swallowed you.

The water was so cold it didn’t feel like anything at first—just shock, like your lungs forgot how to work, like your heart stopped, just for a second. And then it hit. The pain. The sharp, vicious cold that tore through every layer you had on and sank straight into your skin. You thrashed, gasped—then your head went under.

For a second, everything was just dark.

And then—

Strong hands gripped you, arms rough and steady as they pulled you from the ice, breaking through the cold to drag you to safety. Your mouth broke the surface, and air came back with a choking, desperate sob. You clung to him without thinking—his jacket soaked, his mask above you, his voice cutting through the wind.

“Got you,” Simon said, low and harsh. “Fuckin’ hell—got you.”

You couldn’t stop shaking. Your teeth were chattering, your body trembling uncontrollably. Every breath felt sharp, the cold sinking deeper, making it impossible to speak or even think clearly.

He lifted you like you weighed nothing. Scooped you against his chest, one arm around your back, the other under your knees, and started walking. You didn’t have the strength to argue or even find the words.

The safe house wasn’t far. Just a cabin tucked into the woods, barely more than four walls and a fireplace. But right now, it was everything.

He kicked the door open, slammed it shut behind you, and carried you straight to the cot in the corner. Your eyes were wide, lips blue. You were shivering violently.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You’re goin’ under. We need to get these off.”

You blinked. “Wh–what?”

“Your clothes. Off. Now.” His tone left no room for argument. “They’re soaked. You stay in ‘em, you’re done for.”

He pulled off your jacket, your vest, your shirt—fingers cold and clumsy but moving fast, driven by urgency. He didn’t look at you, didn’t crack a smile. He just focused on getting you out of the wet clothes as quickly as possible.

When you were down to your underwear, he didn’t hesitate—just pulled off his own gear, crawled in beside you, and yanked the heavy blanket over both of you. His body, warm and full of heat, pressed against you, chest to chest, your legs tangled, arms locked tight around your back.

He pressed his face into your hair. His breath was warm against your ear.

“Jesus, you scared the shit outta me.”

You couldn’t answer. You didn’t have the strength to.

“You always gotta talk back. Always gotta be difficult,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Couldn’t just listen, could you?”

His hand moved gently up and down your spine, trying to rub warmth into you.

“Don’t go quiet on me now,” he whispered. “Talk shit like you always do. C’mon.”

You tried to breathe, but your body was still trembling too hard.

“Hey,” he said softly, “you’re alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

You wanted to say something—anything—but all that came out was a broken whisper.

“I’m so cold.”

His grip tightened.

“I know, baby. I know,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re alright.”

You curled in closer, chasing his warmth, your fingers weak against his chest. And still, he kept whispering. Soft, careful words that didn’t match the man you thought you knew.

“I can’t lose you,” he said quietly, like it hurt to admit. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

You gave a shaky laugh, almost a breath. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned.”

He kept going. “I act like I don’t care. Like it wouldn’t matter if something happened to you. But it would. It would ruin me.”

You looked up at him. His mask was gone, his jaw clenched tight, lips pale from the cold.

He met your eyes. “I mean it.”

You blinked slowly, heart stuttering in your chest. “You don’t have to say that just because—”

“I’m not sayin’ it because of this,” he said, firm but gentle. “I’m sayin’ it because I’ve been a fuckin’ coward about it. And I almost didn’t get the chance to tell you.”

His hand slid up to cup the back of your head. “You make me feel something I didn’t think I could anymore.”

Your throat felt tight.

He let out a slow breath. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

You barely had enough strength to move, but you leaned into him, burying your face against his chest again, letting his words settle into your bones like warmth.

And he didn’t stop holding you.

Didn’t stop murmuring.

Didn’t stop calling you baby.

Half an hour later, the blanket felt heavy, the air warm now from the fire Simon had started after he got you stable, and the silence in the safe house was comfortable, for once.

Your shaking had started to ease, replaced by exhaustion and this strange, tight feeling in your chest every time you looked at him.

He hadn’t moved.

Still lying beside you, pressed chest-to-chest, his arms around you like he didn’t trust the world not to try and take you again.

You were quiet for a while.

Then you whispered, “I’m okay now.”

“I know,” he said, voice low. “Still not lettin’ go.”

You swallowed. “You don’t have to.”

He looked at you, really looked, like he was checking again—like part of him still didn’t believe you were here, safe in his arms. “You scared the hell outta me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” His hand came up slowly, brushing your hair back from your face, fingertips soft, careful. “Not your fault. Just… couldn’t stand it.”

You were quiet again, taking in the way his voice had changed. It was softer now, stripped of the usual edge, raw in a way that felt like he was letting his guard down. He wasn’t trying to hide anything.

“You’ve got no idea,” he murmured, “how much space you take up in my fuckin’ head.”

Your heart kicked hard in your chest. “You’ve got a weird way of showing it.”

He gave a half-smile. “Yeah. I know. I’m shit at this.”

You shook your head. “You’re not.”

His fingers moved slowly along your jaw, your cheek. “You’re always so mouthy. Always get under my skin. But I’d take that over silence any day.”

You blinked up at him, your face close enough to his that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “Kiss me, Simon.”

He hesitated—but only for a second.

Then he leaned in, slow and unhurried, kissing you with a gentleness that felt different. Not rough, not desperate—just soft. Like he was taking his time, like he wanted to remember every second of it.

When you kissed him back, he made a quiet sound in his chest, something low and strained, like relief.

“You sure?” he asked against your mouth, one hand sliding to your waist, thumb brushing your skin.

You nodded. “I’m sure.”

He was careful, his movements soft and slow, as if afraid that even the slightest wrong move would hurt you, like you meant more to him than anything.

The way he touched you was different now. No teasing, no games—just warmth, just purpose. Every kiss along your shoulder, your collarbone, your throat, spoke louder than words ever could, like he was showing you how much he needed you.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered, breath hot against your skin. “You don’t even know.”

You let out a soft sound when he ran his hand down your side, fingers skimming your ribs. He paused, checking your face.

“Still warm enough?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Just… nervous.”

He kissed your cheek. “Don’t be. I’ve got you.”

You moved together under the blanket, the world outside fading until it was just him, just the way he held you, the way his hands roamed without rush, the way he kissed you like it was a promise.

When he slid into you, slow and careful, he cursed softly into your skin.

“Fuck… you feel like heaven.”

You wrapped your arms around him, held him close, every part of you full of him.

He didn’t go fast. He didn’t try to make it something it wasn’t.

He just moved with you, forehead pressed to yours, hands cradling your face like you were something fragile.

“You’re alright,” he whispered, over and over. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. Gonna keep you warm, gonna take care of you…”

You could feel it in the way he touched you—how much he meant it. How scared he’d been. How close he’d come to losing you.

And when you came, soft and trembling under him, he kissed you through it, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

After, he stayed on top of you, weight resting heavy but grounding you, his face tucked into your neck.

“Didn’t think I’d ever get this,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. “You. Here. Like this.”

You were quiet for a beat, your hand resting over his heart. “Thought you hated me.”

He snorted. “Still might. Jury’s out.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Wow. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Hey,” he said, eyes soft but mouth twitching, “I let you steal my blanket. That’s love, innit?”

You rolled your eyes. “You dragged me into this blanket. I nearly died.”

“Details,” he muttered. “You look warm now, don’t you?”

You tried to fight the smile tugging at your lips. “So this is your version of a confession? Freezing me half to death and then climbing into bed with me?”

He leaned in, nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You breathed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. It did.”

He looked at you for a moment, gaze flicking over your face like he was memorizing it, then said, softer, “You’re not gettin’ rid of me now. You know that, right?”

You raised a brow. “Already regretting it.”

He grinned. “Too late.”

Then he kissed you again—slow, easy, like he had all the time in the world, as if nothing else existed but the moment between you two.

He pulled you closer, tucking you into his arms, like you were something he’d finally stopped pretending he didn’t need, something he could finally admit he wanted without hesitation.

---------------------------------------------

i actually don't like how this turned out but oh well...

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut

3K notes · View notes

khioneee · 7 months ago

Text

caleb won't ever let you go.

‘here’s what you don’t understand,’ caleb said, his voice low and steady as he stepped closer. his gaze bore into yours, unflinching, filled with an intensity that made your heart stutter. ‘i would live a thousand lives just to get to you.’

caleb’s hand came up, and he rested it against one of your cheeks, his thumb catching your lip. you swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat, but he wasn’t done.

‘i would die time and time again, dig out my own grave if it means i can come home to you,’ he said, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of his confession.

you just witnessed your heartbreaker break into a thousand pieces, the vulnerable side of him slowly unmasked, and you saw it. he looked so, so tired. he was all pale skin contrasted with harsh colours; his eyes were bruised violet underneath, his lips were chapped to a raw red, and his usual glowing irises were a dull, cold black.

his lips were so close to yours now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. you wanted to push him away, wanted to move out of his grasp, but you weren’t strong enough for any of it.

‘if i can’t have you in this universe,’ he murmured, his voice barely audible, ‘i’ll make sure i’ll be there in the next.’

it felt like surrender to close your eyes, to let caleb touch his lips where he wanted, to let his mouth ghost your cheek, but you were tired of the battle. he must have felt the resistance give away, because he cupped his hand purposefully around your jaw and tipped your mouth up with a finger on your chin.

he paused, his breath hitching, before backing away just enough to meet your eyes fully. his gaze softened but remained resolute, holding a depth that made you shiver.

‘you belong with me,’ he said firmly.

your unsteady heart was about to detonate. you opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat as he added, softer now, gentler, as if he were speaking a truth only he could see.

‘you just can’t see it… yet.’

his words lingered, weaving into the air around you like a thread that couldn’t be broken. you wanted to fight it, wanted to deny him, but the conviction in his voice planted a seed of doubt in the walls you’d built to keep him out. and that terrified you more than anything.

caleb blinked at you. the storm had cleared in his eyes. he almost looked surprised to see you standing there. he put his cap on, his movements slow, deliberate, as if bracing himself to leave.

‘you’re not the same person i knew,’ you said suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper. the words spilled out before you could stop them, heavy and trembling with unspoken pain.

caleb met your torn stare as you observed him closely, trying to detect what it was that was currently going through his mind.

‘not the same,’ he repeated, shaking his head with a quiet, bitter laugh. he looked at you then, his eyes heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. ‘i still love you, don’t i?’

the words hung in the air, raw and piercing, cutting through whatever resolve you thought you had left. he turned slightly, as if to leave, but hesitated, his shoulders stiff, waiting for a response you weren’t sure you could give.

but he stepped away, disheveled and breathing hard, staring harshly at you. the look in his eyes was terrible. terrifying. then, as if the silence itself pushed him to speak again, his voice low but steady.

‘i’m the same person,’ he said, his gaze locking onto yours. ‘i’m just not willing to let you go this time.’

4K notes · View notes

yunamoona · 1 month ago

Text

ᯓ★ — Gojo getting his wisdom teeth pulled is a spectacle.

From him refusing to let go of your hand and using your fingers to scratch his nose (he tries to pick with them too so you have to pay attention), to him leaning over the center console on the way home, looking like a cross eyed zombie tryna kiss you.

The worst of it though is when he’s half draped over the couch when you manage to lug his heavy ass inside. He’s bawling, completely inconsolable. It’s really concerning, considering you’ve only witnessed him cry like this a handful of times before. You almost want to cry with him.

No amount of, “aww, baby,”’s or “c’mon ‘Toru, tell me what’s wrong,”’s as you pet his hair or soothingly rub your hand over his back are working, and you’re just about to resign yourself to waiting it out until he falls asleep until—

“whem’ I gonnuh eat againnn?” He wailed around the gauze, shifting to loll his head against your shoulder and soak your shirt in his tears.

You snort a little, fondly amused. Is that what all this was about? Because he’s hungry?

“The doctor said you can eat liquid and anything you don’t needa chew the first twenty four hours,” you hummed comfortingly against his skin, trying to fight down your smile at his silliness. “Okay? Don’t cry, I’ll get you whatever you want. We can go get you your milkshake from th-“

“You.”

Pause.

As you sit there on the floor of your living room, gears in your head slowly but steadily whirring into cognition, Satoru’s attempting to pepper chapped-lip kisses down the side of your neck, hands pawing at you…or more or less clumsily groping your shoulder.

“When do I gettuh eat again?”

Appalled. You’re shocked that his anesthesia addled mind couldn’t configure that you’re his girlfriend and not a heaven sent being as he so claimed on the trip home, but had enough conscience to worry about the next time he’d have his head between your legs.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you—” you’re almost tempted to chide him as you gently pull his clingy body off of you. But with a deep steadying breath, you remind yourself it’s useless to try and reason with him in this state. More useless than it usually was, anyway. “One or two weeks, probs.”

“One?”

“Mhm.”

“Uurr two?”

“Yup.”

There’s a dazed look on his face and you can practically see the singular thought bouncing slowly from one wall of his brain to the other. You take the time it takes him to download and install to wipe up the drool dribbling down his lip with the corner of your sleeve.

“Tha’s a lot ob hours?” He murmurs, a frown already starting to crease when you nod.

“I’d say so…aw ‘Toru. Stop, don’t—“ you don’t mean to laugh, honestly. He’s in pain, and it makes your heart hurt to see him so upset, but the situation is just so ridiculous and his face slowly curdling into a silent cry is just so adorably pathetic.

“Tryna kill me, tha’s why they took my teeff,” he sobs into your hair, hiccuping every few breaths. He sniffs the snot back into his nostrils louder than a vacuum. “Th‘want me t’starve...”

“Nooo, nooo,” you coo, shushing him as you reeled back, catching his face in your palm as gently as possible. “Aww, don’t cry your gauze out.”

It’s like every orifice in his face is oozing— and he really is lucky because there’s not many other people you’d be willing to do this for.

“Work with me here, Satoru. Don’t let it fall out,” You tut, guiding his hand to help stuff the gauze back in his face. “Just…help me put it back in, ‘kay?”

In a mind boggling turn of events, his teary-eyed expression turns concerningly neutral. Just before he breaks into the most obnoxious, loopy giggles.

“Tha’s whuh she said.”

Like a magnet your hand is on your face. Though even you can’t deny how your shoulders are shaking as his snickering grows louder.

“Yur sooooo pretty when you laugh, angel,” Satoru woozily flattered as he nudged your hand away, his would-be charm turned humorous by the way the cotton in his mouth muffled him.

“C’mon lemme have youuu,” he’s trying to smirk around the gauze, you can tell. He really must think he’s the height of sex appeal as he drowsily slopes forward onto you.

“I’m talm ‘bout inniiiitt,”

“No. No you are not.”

“okarrr…”

“Let’s go get you’s a milkshake.”

“Okar.”

a.n. ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 in celebration of my dentist telling me I get to keep all my wisdom teeth because they came in perfectly ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა

fun fact: I couldn’t figure out what certain phrases would sound like with a mouth full of gauze, so I stuffed my mouth full of paper towel bits and recited them. so much dedication for a drabble and for what—

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆moonwrites #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo headcanons #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #satoru x you #satoru gojo #suggestive #mdni

1K notes · View notes

siriuslylantsov · 7 months ago

Text

save a horse

pairing: joel miller x reader

description: joel puts on his old cowboy getup and it gives you an idea.

tags: MDNI! smut, porn w/o plot, no outbreak au, established relationship, age gap, fem!reader, unprotected piv, riding, thigh riding, dirty talk (kinda?), nipple stuff (bcs i think joel miller is a boob man), praise kink kinda, little domestic.

a/n: my first joel miller smut! because i've been reading an ungodly amount, i can't stop thinking about him...

wc: 2.2k

“oh my god,” your voice comes out stunned as you walk in, kicking the door shut behind you.

a cowboy. sitting on your couch. well, joel dressed as a cowboy on your couch.

he stands up with a grin, a little shy. “found this in my storage. from some years ago, can't believe it still fits me.”

flannel and jeans, old and a little faded–the jeans fit more snuggly against his thighs compared to his normal ones that you can't help but gawk. he's dressed the same way as always but this time there's a hat on his head and a belt around his hips adorned with a flashy buckle. his boots click lightly on the floor as he makes his way over to you, your eyes dart down to them.

“woulda wore the chaps too but that felt like overkill,” he says, dropping his hands to your waist. “d’ya like it?”

do you like it? you stare up at him a bit incredulous, at a loss for words as you check him out slowly. when you meet his gaze again, the shadow of his hat darkens the top of his face, yet you can still see the way his eyes glisten hopefully.

“yeah baby,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss his jaw, his beard scratching your lips slightly.

his grin widens and he pulls you closer, “good.”

“you did this for me?”

“well, yeah. thought it’d be fun.”

“fun how?” you tease, slipping your fingers into his belt loops and tugging them.

“hate it when you work blue,” he grumbles, his small smirk telling you otherwise.

“no you don't,” you counter with a knowing smile. your lips part as if you're going to say something but they quickly shut.

joel eyes you curiously, eyebrows furrowed trying to figure you out, “spill.”

you hesitate for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek before speaking.

“i've always wanted to ride a cowboy.”

his head cocks to the side, eyebrows raised, amused. “oh yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe, nodding before jutting your head toward the couch. “sit please.”

you stand between his spread legs as he sits. leaning back, he lazily lifts a hand to unbutton your jeans, popping it off with ease as if he's done it a hundred times before–he has. when he pulls them down, you take your shirt off, leaving you in your underwear.

“what's that thing people say? save a horse, ride a cowboy?” you ask and joel stares at you shamelessly, eyes dragging down and back up, utterly enticed.

“‘s a song by um- big ‘n rich,” he murmurs distractedly as he hones in on the little bow on your bra, right in the middle. you pinch the tip of his hat and lift it off his head, placing it on top of yours instead. fingers snake itself through his soft hair and guide his head back so he can look at you.

“hi,” your voice comes out quiet, coy. you smile down sweetly at him and you find him mirroring it. “hi darlin’.”

your gaze trails down his body again, stopping at his thighs. it's obscene how good they look in his old jeans, he's obviously filled into them well. the fabric stretches tight over his limbs, hugging them perfectly. what if you just-

with a finger in the waistband of your panties you pull them down in one swift motion, moving your body to hover over his right thigh, now in between your legs.

he groans something pained when he realises what you're about to do, hands flying back up to your waist to urge you down and body scooting forward so it's easier. you gasp when you lower yourself, legs parted just right that your clit brushes against the fabric of his jeans upon contact.

fuck.

the patch of wet on the denim comes as a surprise when you draw your hips back, you didn't realise you were that wet. you rock your hips again, experimentally, and the friction is debilitating. you’d fall over if joel's hands weren’t keeping you steady.

speaking of them, he begins to guide you back and forth, and your eyes snap back to him in alarm. he gives you an encouraging nod, keep going. you have to hear it from him and he knows that.

“cmon, baby. want you to feel good,” he spurs while nodding again, pushing down to apply more pressure, your mouth falls open in a gasp. but you take his words in tow and keep going.

maybe it's a little pathetic how you rut against his leg, little whines escaping your parted lips, but he doesn't seem to mind. he's more than okay watching you like this as he rubs circles into your hip bone.

“joel, i can't-” you sob, legs beginning to ache from the way you were perched. it feels so good but you’re quickly regretting how you chose to go about this, half sat and calves straining from the weight. you pout, lips trembling, and he looks absolutely wrecked by this.

what you hadn't realised was that every so often your knee pushed into his crotch, he was being stimulated as much as you. the hard-on he's sporting pushes against the confines of his jeans, he’d gladly come untouched if he didn’t want to be inside you as badly as he did.

“yeah, you can, baby,” he grits through his teeth, “gimme this one, want you t’come first.”

his fingers start tweaking your nipple under your bra, and god, he starts flexing his thigh. he hopes the added incentive will help push you over the edge. to his delight, the oh so familiar feeling starts to build embarrassingly fast in the pit of your stomach.

your head falls back in a high, baring your neck to him. this in turn causes the hat to slowly slip off your head, he smiles and tucks it back on, repeating the motion of his thigh, bouncing ever so slightly.

“oh fuck. fuck. fuck-” you finish with a whine, body collasping into itself. joel reaches out to hold you to him as your hips stutter. his head dips to your neck, kissing the skin softly as you come down.

“there ya go. did so good for me, angel,” he speaks into your skin.

you get off his thigh and slump onto the couch with a groan, ignoring the startlingly dark patch you leave on his jeans. you're catching your breath when you nudge him playfully with your elbow, he's equally leaned back, head tipped to the side, looking at you with awe in his eyes.

“i think your bad joints are contagious, old man.”

this makes him scoff. you take the hat off, placing it on his lap before bringing both knees to your chest and squeezing to relieve some of the tension, they really did ache. to this, he laughs and drops his head to your shoulder.

“what? i'm serious, they hurt,” you defend, albeit a little petulantly.

“but you came?”

“yes,” you respond, dragging the word out in exaggeration.

“and ya felt good?”

“yes, miller,” you grumble, nosing the hair of his that tickled your face.

“i don't see any problem in a little hurt, s’what i go through every time,” he mutters quietly.

“every time, huh?”

you feel him nod dutifully and you chuckle. his age usually made itself known after sex–either by complaining about his hips or his knees cracking after a taxing session of eating you out, not that he minded.

he lifts his head and shifts, leaning in. “so when ya gonna ride this cowboy?”

impatient, but he had been waiting.

you look down to his crotch, still painfully hard, and the corners of your mouth pull down in faux sympathy.

“poor baby,” you coo, taunting although he knows you’re teasing. “want me to fuck you?”

his eyes meet yours in searing eye contact, deadpan, but the way his eyes crinkle at the corners betray him, he’s trying not to smile. with a curt dip of his chin, he nods, yes.

and who are you to deny him?

you nudge him to lean back again and put the damn hat back on his head. god, he looks sexy.

you settle on taking his pants off, leaving them and the belt pooled around his feet. and when you unbutton his shirt, you stop him from taking it off completely–liking how his skin peeked down the middle. you settle on his lap, legs bracketing his thighs. you kiss him, sweet and gentle, head tilted more than usual because of the hat. his hands drift up your back to the clasp of your bra, quickly unfastening it and letting it fall. you slip your hand under his boxers and palm him, you like the weight of him your hands.

“baby-” he drawls. “please.”

“i know, i know.”

you pull him out of his boxers and rise to your knees, positioning yourself accordingly. you swipe the tip through your folds a few times, relishing in the groan it earns you before pushing in, tantalisingly slow.

you brace yourself on his shoulders, it's always a stretch with joel. when he's bottomed out, you let out a deep long winded sigh. you stay like that for a moment, eyes closed. the angle is maddening and the way your weight settles on top of him drives him crazy.

you tentatively rise and sink back down slowly. fuck. you do it again and again. joel shoots you a proud grin, his hands back at your waist to help you. a breathy moan escapes you when the tip of him drags against your g-spot on the ascent .

“attagirl. there she is," joel mumbles, always keen on your sounds. “feels good, huh?”

“mhm, feels- so good, joel,” you sigh, rocking back and forth now.

“i bet,” he responds with a grunt, “can feel you squeezin’ around me.”

you whimper at that, back arching and effectively pushing your tits closer to his face. he tries to lean closer but the hat stops him, hitting your sternum.

“stupid fuckin’ hat,” he grumbles, tossing it away. it flies somewhere beside the coffee table and you laugh, ducking down to kiss him as he continues making incoherent annoyed noises. a hat is not going to deny him what he wants.

he hums low against your lips, trailing his kisses down to your neck. he nips at your skin, placing a peck to your collarbone before reaching his destination. his lips close around your nipple, hand securing itself between your shoulders to hold you firm against his mouth.

“oh fuck,” you breathe. you look down to find him already looking back up at you and the sight is depraved, downright filthy.

you card a hand through his greying hair and tighten, speeding up the motion of your hips. his free hand tweaks the neglected nipple and he is everywhere. you can’t handle it. a weak grunt sounds from you and he knows.

“joel please-” you cut yourself off with a broken moan as he begins to suck, pinching the sensitive bud between his teeth. he switches over to the other one and repeats, leaving you a whining mess in his lap.

“s'okay, baby. i got you,” he coos, lifting his head up to kiss you again. he pulls your body closer, holding you to his chest, bracing you. because before you know it his hips jump to meet yours, fucking up into you.

he swallows every lewd sound you make, responding with a quick snap of his hips. “always take me so well, pretty girl. like you're made for this cock, huh?”

“mhm, i love it,” you slur.

he grins, breath growing heavier as his peak nears. he recognises the expression on your face instantly, eyebrows pinched together and eyes fighting to be closed, he knows you're in the same boat and he’ll be damned if he doesn't get you to cum first.

“you close, angel?” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. when you nod, he hums sympathetically, fucking you harder. his hips slap against yours incessantly and you let out a muffled cry, holding onto him for dear life.

“that’s it, take it,” he encourages as he feels your walls clamp down. “cum for me, baby.”

your nails leave crescent shaped imprints on his shoulder, back, anywhere you can hold onto as you tip over the edge, keening loudly, it borders on a scream.

his orgasm quickly follows as his hips stutter, spilling into you with a shudder and a groan. he lazily fucks into you a few more times, riding out the aftershocks before stilling.

the two of you sit there, breathless, skin sticking to each other . his head dips and falls onto your chest as he hugs you to his body. his breath comes out in soft puffs against your skin, warm.

“that was...,” you mumble, heart finally slowing down.

he chuckles, dry and low that it makes you shiver. “yeah.”

“joel?”

he lifts his head up, eyes soft and admiring when he looks at you. he hums in acknowledgment.

“wear the chaps next time.”

he laughs again, something heartier as he takes in your face, deadly serious. he kisses your chin, “yes ma’am.”

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot

3K notes · View notes

thistle-wrote · 3 months ago

Text

Husbands

cw: established poly relationship, anal, vaginal sex. Authors note: for the first time in my life, I get to give one of those ridiculous notes to preface my fic. as I was writing this my house was swarmed with BEES so I'm sorry if it's bad lmfao. John Price X Simon Ghost Riley X Reader.

“John?” John glanced over at you, his focus mostly on the newspaper in his hand.

“Yes, princess?”

“Love, why is Simon in the guest bed?” You question him, you weren’t upset by any means, truth be told you love it when Simon comes over, even more when he stays for a while it’s just when John crawled into your bed last night he hadn’t mentioned Simon was with him.

“Probably because he’s tired.” John said not looking up from the paper, it was the kind of plain, dry statement you usually got from your otherwise adoring husband. You met his gaze with a rather unamused expression, a silent demand for an actual answer.

“Needed some love from baby girl, that's all, we had a rough go round this time.” He states, leaning back farther into his recliner. You watch him as he gives a slight wince at the pain in his side. You hate that. John was clearly feeling as though that statement was enough of an explanation, and for the most part, it was.

You understood little of your husband’s job beyond the simple and watered down explanations he gives when he comes back from missions, still, you understood enough to know they needed extra love and care for a while afterwards, Simon is no different except for the fact he’s easier to deal with.

You make your way down the hallway, feeling the soft new carpet that you begged John for beneath your feet, muffling your steps. You open the door to the guest bedroom to find Simon sprawled out on the small bed.

“Si?” You cautiously speak, you know for a fact he is not sleeping, the man rarely sleeps as is but definitely not in a bed two sizes too small and especially not after going through God knows what.

“Honey.” You probe again, walking now fully into the room and sitting down on the white crinkly duvet next to where he’s lying. His eyes are open but still, you get no response, you look him over noticing the new cut on his cheek, the facial hair he hasn’t bothered to shave yet, the bags under his eyes, the way his blonde hair sticks up in every direction from tossing and turning all night.

You never have loved the way he looks after a mission, always worse off than John, you know that John just hides it better but you worry for them both.

“Gotta tell me what you need, baby boy.” You mutter trying not to let the worry in your face show while brushing your fingers along the curve of his cheek, feeling the rough stubble that he will no doubt shave within a few days. He looks up at you, for a brief moment you can see the relaxed expression, like for a second he forgot about everything, everything but you.

“I’m hungry.” A soft smile finds its way to your face. You lean down to place a soft kiss to his chapped lips.

“I’ll make you something.”

As you cook you think of Simon, of John, you think of how lucky you are to not only have an amazing husband but to have the man in your guest bedroom. John doesn’t say it enough and Simon won’t ever admit it but the three of you have found a rhythm, this is Simon’s home as much as it was yours and John’s. It’s better when he’s home.

“Cookin’?” John asks after a few minutes, walking halfway into the kitchen and leaning onto the door frame.

“Yes.” You respond softly looking up with a smile, where John and Simon differ is mostly in the way that they treat you, neither one bad or wrong but different. John saw you, his little wife, as some sort of angel; he’s told you as much. He never asks or demands anything of you. You don’t work; you only cook or clean out of your own volition. To him, you’re more of a precious artifact that can’t be tampered with.

Simon is different, he’s a little more closed off, so you need a more aggressive approach, he’s learned over the years that your demands for him to tell exactly what he wants will be met with not hostility, but a soft hand and a loving voice, doing for him exactly what he needs. You’re sure that John wanted breakfast just as much as Simon did, but John would never ask for it.

As you cook, John remains in the kitchen, not speaking, but there’s a quiet understanding between the two of you, it’s comfortable, loving, and warm despite John’s current condition he wants to be in your presence.

After a long stretch of comfortable silence, you speak again. “Simon looks like he hasn’t slept in a week.” You mutter. You know that despite him not always behaving like he does, John cares as much for Simon as you do. Simon and John have a relationship that is difficult to explain, not only in how John allows him into both your home and marital bed. But also, how John relies on Simon to take care of you when he can’t, to meet you at the petrol station to fill your tank when he’s closer, to call and check on you when his phone dies. John expects Simon to have the same kind of care for you as he does.

“He hasn’t.” John’s simple statement makes you stand on edge a little, you love Simon, John knows that. You know when they are gone doing things that they won’t explain to you, Simon has John to look out for him, but they are men. A pat on the back from John does not have the same effect that a tender embrace or a home cooked meal does.

Once the simple meal of toast, eggs, and sausage was cooked, you made John a plate, sitting in front of him with a small clink of ceramic against the granite island. He smiled, a wordless “thank you.“ as you made Simon a plate carrying it with you to the guest bedroom.

You didn’t bother with a knock when you entered the bedroom. You set the plate on the nightstand, then sat in the same spot you had previously.

“Sit up, love.” It’s a demand, a loving demand, but a demand, nonetheless. He does as requested. You never wish for Simon to be wearing a shirt, but at this moment, seeing the bruise along his torso and the bandage on his arm, makes you almost wish he were wearing one. Your incessant need to mother your men at war with your desire to focus only on what you could control; you could control breakfast.

“Here.” You hum, placing the plate on his lap. His tired eyes find yours. As Simon eats, you don’t move, you just chatter, talking to him, as though he were responding you watch his silent nods as he shovels food into his mouth as if he would never get to eat again. As Simon finished his plate you began to pick it up, taking it to clean when you felt a big rough hand wrap around your wrist.

“Don’t go.” His deep voice echoed through the room, not loud, or demanding but a clear plea. You nodded, understanding what he needed in that moment was not breakfast in bed or space but rather just your presence.

You move over the bed, making a mental note to buy him a bigger bed for the guest bedroom since he’s the only one who stays in it. You cautiously curl up into his side, pushing your legs beneath the covers to intertwine them with his own. Simon wrapped his arms around you and sighed deeply.

It was a satisfied sigh. You let the large man manhandle you, allowing him to pull you where he sees fit with your head now resting against the inside of his shoulder and your fingers grazing along his tummy. He speaks finally for the first time without you prompting him to do so. “Missed you.” It’s quiet like a confession he doesn’t feel he’s allowed to make.

“I missed you too, baby.” You don’t hold the same reservation about voicing your adoration for the man curled up next to you. A soft kiss grazed your lips as he pulled you further into his chest.

“Love you.” he murmured against your lips, your want to say it back was stopped by his mouth, continuing to move against yours, holding your arm, as if he feared you trying to pull away. Things with Simon have always been silent, actions rather than words. While he is silent, you are fully aware he is asking for something in the way his hands wandered from your arm to the small of your back, to your ass.

A desperation to be close, close where your bodies can meld together. When his lips moved from yours to your neck you let out an involuntary little whine. His soft, loving kisses, turned into something more, an outlet.

“Si.” You whine out. He, despite being tired and drained from the past month, let out a laugh and an almost condescending chuckle, sure the sweet boy had been waiting for soft kisses and breakfast in bed, getting to cuddle with the captain’s missus but he was hungry and not for food.

You let out a little gasp when his hand slipped down the front of your leggings. “Si.” You repeated it again this time, breathless, longing. He let out a groan when his fingers swept between your folds.

“There’s my girl.” He said, his fingers gliding along your slick sex. You had no words left, no protests either. Already the world around you grew hazy, and before you knew what happened, your T-shirt and leggings were in a heap on the floor.

Simon took his time watching, touching, kissing. He drew orgasm after orgasm from your body with just the deep plunge of his fingers.

“Well, that’s a pretty sight.” A deep voice hummed from the doorway. Normally, you would acknowledge the presence of your husband but the way your lover was working his fingers into you could make even the smartest of women feel dumb.

Simon didn’t respond, just glanced over through his dilated pupils, merely continuing as John crossed the bedroom sitting down on the duvet. For a moment you thought he would just watch His lieutenant pull sweat noises from your lips, but you believed you may have seen God when his thumb made contact with your clit.

“Give us another, pretty girl.” You weren’t sure in that moment exactly who the words came from; you were unable to respond. All you knew was that the words were being spoken to you.

And you did, not that you could help it. It was almost instantaneous, the way your body tensed before releasing. You drenched Simon’s torso, you didn’t even realize what you’d done at first, you squirt so rarely. Once their hands came to a halt, you blinked you opened your eyes. Embarrassment worked its way onto your already pink cheeks.

“I’m s…” Your apologies were instantly cut off. “Shut up.” The words weren’t mean despite the quickness and aggression in them. It wasn’t mean, it was desperate. Shirts were ripped off, pants unzipped. While you lay there heaving and trying to come down from your high.

There was zero protest from you when you were lifted from your spot on the bed. You were pulled to lay on top of Simon‘s chest. Even in your limp and already fucked out state, you had half of mind to protest simply because of his bruise. The words died in your throat though, as your husband knelt in front of you.

“Be good okay, Pretty?” John said, positioning your legs, pushing your knees against your shoulders as Simon held the underneath of your thighs. You nodded, both men seemingly took that as their go ahead.

Simon pushed himself into you, a sensation you had gotten used to throughout the years. He was big, but he likes your ass, so it’s not an abnormal feeling either. You whine and wiggle a little at first, but as he settles, your body got used to the stretch, as you tipped your head back John too, began nudging your wet hole with the reddened, hard tip of his cock.

John, however, did not give you the same consideration as Simon, there was no time to get used to the stretch. He plunged himself to the hilt, touching your cervix. In an instant it was as if everyone let out a sigh of relief, like this, despite the responsibilities and lives of every person, was exactly where they were all meant to be.

Both of your men began moving, each at their own pace. Each grunting and groaning. You don’t believe in heaven, it has always seemed an abstract concept. But this? This has to be it.

As they both rutted into you, you whined. “Don’t start crying on me now, princess.” John’s deep voice commanded. You obey as best you can. Simon squeezes on your thigh as he continues his relentless pace. The huffing and gripping onto his arms is all you can do to keep from screaming in pleasure.

They each continue with rapidly increasing speeds, speaking filthy things to you as they near their individual climaxes. “Milkin’ me fokin’ dry.” The first words from Simon’s mouth in a while, an indication of just how close he was.

John was not far off, his breathing was rapid, his grip on your knees nearing on painful. His strokes got harder, rougher. Then all at once you could feel him snap, you could feel the warmth of him spilling into you. His pace slowed as he rode out his orgasm.

Simon did not stop. Soon his pace too slowed as he filled you up with him.

You all lay there for a moment, no one speaking. Just breathing in the comfortable, love filled space. You always know exactly what to do to give them the little TLC they need.

CoD Masterlist

3K notes · View notes

joonjuul · 6 months ago

Text

choked on smoke. jjk

pairing: exboyf!jk x reader

wc: 3.2k

warnings: exboyfriend!jk, softdom!jk, kindasubby!jk, jk is a switch??, bro is yearningggg, lots and lots of angst, reader is slightly depressed, breakup mentions, choking, light mouth play, lots and lots of cigarettes, crying mentioned (non sexual), pet names, slight impreg kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up), slight creampie mentions, more pwp don’t hate me

a/n: this was a lot of fun to write. it’s like all my favorite things in one: desperate jungkook, cigarettes, and angst. reqs open!!

╋━

you still remember how it felt. so close to him yet so far. the way your heart thumped in your chest, your cheeks hot with tears, mind racing, palms sweaty. you remembered it almost like it was yesterday. the way he looked into your eyes deeply, before breaking you in ways you never knew were possible.

“this isn’t working.”

you could still hear him now if you focused really hard. you could still hear his laugh. feel his skin against yours. the way he used to twirl your hair, or circle patterns along your bare back as you laid beside him. you missed him more than anything, and every time you thought about him it only deepened the wound.

it’s been a month now. a month since you last saw him. last touched him. you feel the cold gust of wind rustle against your clothes as you bring the dainty cigarette butt up to your chapped lips, inhaling slowly before feeling the intoxication fill your lungs. even dressed in your warmest clothes, you still couldn’t escape the icy january wind, or the coldness that consumed your insides from sheer loneliness.

you look down at the cigarette in your hands, watching carefully as the ashes fall to the ground, the wind picking up pieces and allowing them to float off, find another spec of air to pollute. but the thought of you being a smoker now is only nauseating. you only started smoking so you could feel closer to him, so you could experience his scent one last time. it wasn’t a habit you picked up by your own means, just another way for him to poison you for the rest of your life.

you flick the half smoked cigarette off your balcony and turn to face the slider door, entering your now slightly chilled apartment.

everything was dark now, it wasn’t something you could fully explain or put into words, but your life was dark, your apartment was dark, everything about you was dark, and you knew he was the reason why.

you daydream as your feet carry you to the kitchen, eyes dancing over the messy sink, the fridge that was practically empty, and the cupboards that were collecting dust before turning back around and slumping down on your couch.

you weren’t sure what to do these days. it always felt like you were waiting for him to come home, but he never did. you could easily kick your feet up and watch a movie, do something to distract yourself, but you never did. you simply wallowed in the pain and memories of your last moments together, wishing you could’ve done something differently.

your mind drifts as you hear the subtle patter of rain begin outside.

at least it wasn’t snow.

how could he give up on you so easily? after all those years? it was never something you could fully comprehend. how one day he looked at you with his eyes full of love, and the next like you never existed to him, like he never loved you at all. you sometimes entertained the idea that he had found someone knew, something to make you hate him, make him easier to forget instead of having to live with the fact that he simply didn’t love you anymore, but it never worked. he was the most loyal man you knew, even during your hardships. it wouldn’t be fair to him to paint him as the bad guy when in reality, neither of you did anything wrong.

you’re quickly brought back to reality at the sound of a knock at your apartment door. it was almost strange, you never had visitors, in fact you didn’t really have any friends either. it could very well be your mom checking in again, but it was late, and she never liked to walk in the city at night.

before you can finish the thought, you’re in front of the door, your hand on the doorknob as you turn it slightly, the chill of the hallway gently caressing your face as your eyes fall on a very tall, very wet man standing before you.

not just any man.

“jungkook?”

his eyes are bloodshot, his face cold, and his clothes dripping with remnants of the weather outside.

“can i come in?”

his voice felt like your very first cigarette, the way you inhaled it perfectly the day he left you, the way the poison immediately swept through your bloodstream and straight to your head, leaving you dizzy and desperate for more.

you’re unable to garner a response, only able to stand beside your door, allowing him space to brush past you and into your once bright and welcoming home. but somehow, he doesn’t notice how your apartment has changed, and he doesn’t notice how you’ve changed either. how much weight you’ve lost, how you’ve cut your hair at least 3 times, how your undereyes are littered with bags instead of freckles.

you shut the door behind you as you watched him nervously pace throughout your kitchen, eyes dashing between you and the floor. his lips were pouty, like they always were after he cried. why was he here?

“jungkook, what’s going on?”

he stops in his tracks, turning quickly to face you, but never stepping closer, almost as if you’re too fragile for him to be near.

“i fucked up, y/n.”

silence fills the space between you, only the gentle, distant sound of raindrops filling your ears. you want to answer, you want to scream, you want to fall to your knees and beg for him back, but you don’t. instead you stand still, watching him intently as his eyes narrow in on you.

“i fucked up, bad.”

he takes a step closer, watching your reaction carefully, examining your body language. he looks desperate, like his life is filled with anguish, like he’s as broken as you are.

“i quit smoking.” he mutters under his breath. “i knew how much you hated it, so i quit.”

silence.

“i started smoking.”

his gaze shifts at your response, his brows furrowed together in a way that makes your knees weak, a way that makes your body crawl with need.

“why?”

he steps closer again. you watch as his hands go down instinctively to your waist, but stop before he’s able to make contact.

“because they reminded me of you.”

your eyes meet perfectly, dancing between each other as you feel the air between you thicken. the distant rain now turning into something of white noise as your mind zones in on one thing; him. you can see the hurt on his face, but you’re sure he can see the hurt on yours as well.

“why did you leave me?”

it comes out barely over a whisper, and you’re not sure why you said it, but it was a question that had been repeating in your mind for weeks. you thought you knew the answer, but seeing him here in front of you now, you weren’t so sure.

“you really don’t know do you?”

you shake your head no.

“you’re like a flame, y/n.”

he takes another step forward, his hand falling to the side of your face as he cups your skin gently, his touch igniting something within you.

“so beautiful, so warm, but always burning. i’m covered in scars from holding you to close.”

his words cut deep, but for some reason you still can’t understand. he was your world, your love, you never would’ve done anything to hurt him.

“i never asked you to break yourself for me. i just wanted you to stay.” your voice is hushed, breaking the barriers between you as you feel your chest get heavier, like you’re smoking him now, like he’s been the real poison all along.

“you pushed me away long before i left.” he continues to lean in towards you, his touch on your face only deepening the crimson on your cheek.

“you’re the one who gave up.” your voice is raw as you stare up at him, watching as he carefully tucks a hair behind your ear, hie eyes filled with desperation as you now realize how close you are to him.

“do you think i wanted to? you don’t even know how badly i wanted to stay, or how much i still do.” his stare intensifies as his gaze shifts down to your lips. his hand against your cheek is tender, but his face screams urgency as you both linger in the silence for a minute, your breaths mingling as you each wait for the other to respond, or to come closer.

“i still do.” jungkook mutters before tightening his grip on your face gently, pulling you towards him as he engulfs your lips in his. the kiss starts slow, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters. but soon the hunger strikes, mouths turning desperate as the weight of everything left unsaid pours out into each touch, each movement. before you know it your hands are tangled in his hair, your back pressed against the wall as he feverishly moves down your body, his lips finding every patch of skin he missed so deeply while you were gone.

“i never stopped wanting you.” he mutters in between kisses as he dives into the crook of your neck, peppering you with tiny bruises and marks, imprinting you in any way he can.

your movements are in sync, like everything you felt the last few months was mimicked within him, like he was struggling just as much as you were.

his hands quickly find the hem of your pants, pulling them down with intensity as his hands push your hips further into the wall. his strong arms holding you in place as he begins to rut against you, every moment he spent missing you now rolled into a tight coil within his stomach. every bone in his body yearned for you, for your touch, your scent, and he was painfully overwhelmed, his hard on probing you with every needy grind of his hips.

you moan out carelessly, his name seeping from your lips as your hands pull and tug his damp hair, finger nails falling to his back and scratching gently as his shirt, almost instinctually.

“need you.” he whimpers, swiftly picking you up and carrying you across the room, effortlessly tossing you on the couch before he falls on top of you, his crotch zeroing in on yours as his movements build in intensity.

“you made it so damn hard to forget you.” his voice shakes as he leans down into your ear, each word coming out in a desperate gasp as he tangles himself between your legs. your hands quickly fall to the hem of his pants as you tug gently, silently signaling for him to take them off, to which he obliges, removing his shirt as well in the process.

it was like seeing him for the first time, bare in front of you, sweat glistening on his forehead, cheeks flushed. it was more than you could’ve ever asked for, it was worth every cigarette, every tear, every lonely night.

you feel his fingers fall to your panties, pushing them to the side gently as he inspects your cunt feverishly.

“so wet and warm, just how i remembered it.” his breaths are shallow and quick as he strokes your folds gently before carefully aligning his cock at your entrance. his gaze shifts from your bodies up to your face, carefully examining your features, awaiting for your confirmation, but you’re only able to respond by bucking your hips forward with a gentle whine.

you watch as his features soften, the corners of his lips turning up into a gentle smile, a smile of familiarity as he places gentle, reassuring strokes on your thighs, and leaning down to whisper sweet nothings to you as he engulfs your mouth into another hot kiss, pushing his hips up with ease as he stretches you out.

the sting is long and rough, worse than you remembered, and it’s obvious that he’s affected by your tightness, his face falling into the crook of your neck as he whimpers, falling victim to your cunt’s subtle praise.

“god you make me crazy, i just can’t resist you.” his voice is filled with desperation as he bottoms out inside of you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he struggles to hold himself in place, allowing you the time to adjust.

you moan out at the feeling of his tip nudging against your g-spot, he always fit inside of you so perfectly, but you knew how needy he became when he wasn’t able to move immediately after entering you. one of the subtle sides to his unspoken submission for you.

“please. please let me move.” he begs, each word coming out in a desperate gasp as his hips gentle twitch and flick against you, his body filled with an overwhelming heat.

“go ahead, baby.”

at the sound of your words he immediately falls on a quick but gentle pace. his hips rolling into you perfectly as he watches your face contort with pleasure and desire. he was completely at your mercy, he had never been so desperate to see you cum, the way your face lights up and your eyes roll back into your head. it’s all he’s been able to think about since the day he left, and he wanted nothing more than to bring you to the edge over and over again, until your body has had enough.

“fuck i missed you so much.” he groans out, his body melting into yours completely as he sets on a steady pace, the head of his cock perfectly brushing against your g-spot with every thrust. you can’t control the way your hands lose their place, bouncing from his perfect hair, to leaving crescent shaped marks on his back, to his ink scattered arms.

you’re a moaning mess, his every move perfectly aligning within you, as if your bodies were made for one another. you could feel the intensity in the room shift the moment his eyes laid on yours, staring deep into your soul as he quickly snaps his hips back, your walls constricting at the sudden force, causing a dark chuckle to leave his mouth.

“forgot you liked it rough, baby. forgive me i want to savor this as long as i can. you look so perfect right now.” his voice is dark and raspy as he slows his thrusts, bringing a hand down to slowly circle your clit, the touch sending shivers through your spine as you toss your head back, releasing a guttural moan. he hadn’t touched you in so long, you hadn’t felt him in so long, and the way he was making you feel could only be described as euphoric.

“there you go, baby.” his praises only spur you on more as you bring your hips up to meet his, your bodies moving in perfect synchronicity.

“i’m hopeless, baby. hopelessly yours.”

“keep going, that’s a girl.”

“god i’m addicted you.”

“you’re so beautiful, it’s torture.”

every word, every phrase spilling from his mouth go in one ear and out the other. all you can think about is how perfectly his cock slides in and out of you, the sounds of your wetness mixed with the now distant pattering of rain and his quick breaths all you can hear as you feel a coil build in your stomach. you wanted nothing more than to cum on him, to watch his face twist as your walls tighten around him, to moan his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. he was yours, and you were his.

jungkook looks down at you, watching as your eyes clench shut, your lack of response only telling him one thing; you were close.

“sweet girl-“ he mutters, pulling his cock out of you and bringing an arm under your back to quickly flip you over, your stomach consumed with the warmth of the bed as he easily slips back inside, his breath hot against your neck. “i’m desperate to see you cum.” his pace quickens, his voice shaky as he begins to fuck into you faster now, watching closely as your constricting hole tugs him back in with each thrust.

your head is spinning, your body on fire, the feeling only intensifying as he reaches forward, gently tapping his fingers on your mouth as you engulf them fully, tasing the sweetness of your slick mixed with his precum. he curls his fingers, flattening them on your tongue as he draws them over your chin landing on your neck to grip it tightly. a finger on either side of your throat carefully cutting off your breathing as you feel your stomach tighten.

“cum for me pretty girl.“ his words linger in the air as you feel yourself get drawn towards the edge, hurtling over it before you have time to think. your legs shake as you feel a wave of bliss wash over you, your mind going blank as you feel your cunt gush around him.

jungkook watches intently, his thrusts becoming messy as he feels you tighten around him, his cock stalling within you as he relishes in the sensation.

“fuck.”

his hips falter as he tries to fall back to his original pace, fighting against your sealed walls.

you moan out loudly, causing him to quickly remove his hand around your neck and place gentle kisses along your back, his touch soothing any pain that may have occurred.

“shhh, it’s okay baby, i’ve got you.” your body doesn’t even process the overstimulation because you’re stuck on a high. you didn’t care that it burned, that it was practically unbearable, because it was all for him.

he brings a hand up to your hair, gripping it tightly as his thrusts deepen and increase in speed. his high not far behind yours as you silently pray for him to stay inside you, for him to coat your walls and tie you down, make you his forever.

“god you drive me insane. you have me wrapped around your finger, baby.” the head of his cock hits places inside you you never knew were reachable as he becomes frantic behind you, his body hot to the touch.

“gonna fill you up, baby. you’re never leaving me again.”

and just like that, you finally feel like your life is filled with a sense of light again. whether it be from the brightness of his cum leaking from your cunt, or from the lighter as he brings it up to your lips, carefully igniting the cigarette placed between them.

your eyes flick at him next to you, a sheet of sweat covering his body as he pulls the lighter away. you inhale deeply as you feel the smoke fill your lungs, but it doesn’t feel bitter this time, in fact, it’s rather peaceful.

you exhale, watching as the smoke fills the air between you as you bring the cigarette between his lips, watching his eyes shut in bliss as he fills his lungs with the same sensation.

“you’re pretty when you smoke.” he says as he breathes out, admiring the way your chest heaves gently.

“i learned from the best.”

#bts smut #bts #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #jeon jungkook

1K notes · View notes

girl-lostconnection · 7 months ago

Text

Hear me out

Bloodhound Knight Johnny x Witch!Reader.

Johnny who lived his whole life being a good instrument for his master, being a proper weapon in other’s hands.

Johnny whose training strips his words from him, his dignity, his honour. Dogs don’t have honour after all.

Dogs hear “bite” and they bite. Dogs hear “run” and they run.

Dogs return to their owners no matter how cruel the hand feeding them is. Because that’s what dogs do. That’s how it works.

Johnny who gets his knee injured badly and suddenly after years of servitude and being a good weapon he’s useless. He’s broken. No one needs a dog that can’t run. No one needs a dog that can’t hunt for its master.

They drop him off somewhere in the wilderness, not letting him keep even his sword, the weapon that became part of him, the weapon hilt of which is soaked in his blood and sweat and tears.

It’s his bloody sword! It’s his weapon! He earned it! Why can’t he keep it? Why isn’t he allowed to keep at least this much?

Why isn’t he allowed to keep anything?

But he’s dropped off in the woods and he doesn’t even know where the fuck he is. He doesn’t know what to do — shame and humiliation choking him out, pain in his knee agonising whenever he tries to hobble somewhere.

Dogs in the wild either die or become feral. Johnny isn’t sure what is better for him. He doesn’t have anything left in him to fight more.

He doesn’t have a reason to. Nobody tells him to bite or to run or to break himself piece by piece.

He’s feverish from pain and he’s hungry, god he’s so fucking hungry.

He hasn’t been so hungry since he was a wee thing and his mum couldn’t feed them more than once per day.

Family too big in a place that’s too cold and too barren to feed them properly. Family without men other than him.

Johnny closes his eyes, looking up at the sky, lips chapped and dry.

He doesn’t really mind dying. But he doesn’t want to be hungry. God he doesn’t want to die hungry, he let people break him to fit in the dog hide so he doesn’t die hungry.

And at the brink of it all. You find him.

You smell like herbs and something citrus-y, sweet and homey scent. Warm scent. Delicious scent.

Johnny tilts his head, not sure whether it not you are another hallucination of his feverish mind. Maybe you are. Well, at least that’s something.

Small mercies for a useless dog like him.

You say something, brows furrowed and eyes wary but Johnny doesn’t have any more energy to attack. There’s no fight left in him.

But you tug on him for some reason, you make him drink something — sweet and tangy, his empty stomach clenching with renewed hunger.

“Look at the state of you. Come on, knight, it’s no place to die. Come on, you need to get up”, you hiss at him, forcing him up and make him drink a little more of whatever you have in the flask of yours.

It dulls his pain a little, it sobers him up, his jaws clacking together, almost biting the tip of his own tongue.

It’s humiliating. He’s been his master’s best dog, the leanest hound, the favourite fucking weapon and now he’s just a broken toy that reeks of sweat and blood and infection, knee throbbing.

You should just leave him here. You should let him die.

But you don’t.

You force him to walk, hissing back when he clacks his jaws at you — his leg making the hobble a right bloody adventure but you are relentless. Pouring your drink down his throat, pulling him further in the woods.

Johnny thinks he blacked out for a while because the next time he’s out of delirium he’s lying on the bed, fire cracking in the heath.

His armour propped on the chair next to the bed.

You didn’t take it away. Why didn’t you take it away? He doesn’t deserve it. He’s a bad dog, a weak dog, a useless dog.

Can’t you see his knee? Don’t you know that he won’t be a good weapon for you, witch? What’s use to save him if he’s not useful?

But you don’t allow him to wallow in his own misery, spoon feeding him your weird fucking medicine, making him eat and pushing out of the house so he sits on the fallen tree.

“Some fresh air will do you good”, you hum matter-of-factly and he snarls at you, but it’s half-hearted at best. More for the show and you know it so well it’s infuriating.

You thrust watering can in his hands when he’s out of the woods and no longer risking to fall when he stands up too fast. Johnny looks at it, bewildered and looks back at you, earning himself an exasperated sigh and “water plants around yourself, you big oaf. Yeah, these ones near the log you sit on”.

Johnny feels fucking ridiculous sitting on the bloody log and watering plants around himself. Who the fuck is he? A garden gnome?

Johnny who doesn’t know what use he is to you but you come up with tasks for him and even if he finds them ridiculous…he’s not gonna turn his nose away from work.

You feed him, you house him, you patch up his clothing and make a polish for his armour. You save him for some unknown reason so if you say “water the rosemary, oaf” he’s going to water the rosemary.

His knee slowly gets better but the damage unfortunately is irreversible. He doesn’t lose his leg entirely but you quietly announce that he’s not gonna be able to run again.

Johnny nods, swallowing down his anger and bitterness, back of his throat hurting and spasming, bile rising up.

It’s not fair. He was a good dog, he was the best dog. It’s not fair that he won’t run again.

But you still push him to move, lending your shoulder when he awkwardly stumbles and limps, making ointments for his knee, teaching him how to bandage the thing properly.

He lives through the whole summer with you — sleeping in your bed, eating food you grow, watching you silently.

It’s not until first snow he starts speaking again, the first time scaring the living day out of you — his voice a raspy and wrong thing.

He haven’t used it in 20 years.

But he does now. Starts with clipped “yeah” and “nae”, building up to “thank you” and “morning”. He doesn’t talk much but he does talk and that’s already more than before.

More than he was allowed.

You teach him proper sheep shearing and with your combined efforts he gets himself a warm winter cloak. Then a sweater. Then another one.

It’s foreign and the clothes are warm, keeping him from shivering in winds that grow colder when he cleans the pathway to your house from snow.

You keep him warm.

The thought is a sharp thorn that grows in his mind, poking from inside, something long forgotten inside of him watching you with new intensity.

He still sleeps in your bed with you taking a small cot in the kitchen which wasn’t an issue during summer but winters are cold and when he notices the slight shiver that goes through you…

You keep him warm. It’s only fair if he repays the favour.

You wake up warm and fuzzy from sleep, mind hazy, eyes bleary and you aren’t sure why are you so warm, kitchen cools off during the night. Usually you are shivering when you wake up.

Someone’s breathing tickles your ear and you freeze, turning your head — Johnny’s impossibly blue eyes staring right back at you. Watching you with the same intensity hounds do when they lock in on the target.

With the same quiet obsession stray dogs that adore their owners have.

“What are you doing?”, you murmur quietly, voice husky from sleep, eyes squinting at him.

“Nothing”

Johnny isn’t sure what to do with the hot shiver he feels at the sound of your voice, so he just nudges you back under the blanket and to his absolute delight you comply.

Face pressing into his chest, dozing off in a matter of seconds.

Johnny wraps his arms tighter around you, warm and comfortable. You are soft in his hands, his fingers sinking in the softer parts of your body and god, you still smell good.

Herbs and dried citrus. Homey. Delicious.

Johnny guards you while you sleep, starting to move only when you stir awake. You got your rest. Wonderful.

Johnny nuzzles in your neck, lips mouthing at soft skin and he’s not sure what he’s doing or where he needs to go from there. But you make a soft breathy sound when he licks a wet stripe on your skin and he growls in appreciation.

Maybe it would’ve been better if you were like his previous master. Maybe it would’ve been better if you told him to bite or to run.

Maybe it would’ve been better if you chose his new purpose for him.

But you didn’t. So he chooses it himself.

Johnny’s palms slide under the thin fabric of your shirt, his body nudging your legs open so he can settle in between — slowly sliding under the blankets.

Yeah, he chose alright. Maybe his pretty witch doesn’t need a weapon. Or a dog. Or an instrument to use.

But he needs you.

Johnny rumbles out “bonnie” when he looks back up at you, eyes heavy and hungry.

Didn’t you know that hounds sink their teeth into their prey and don’t let go? Should’ve known better.

Now you aren’t getting rid of him.

Continuation

#call of duty #cod mw2 #girl.snippets #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #elden ring

2K notes · View notes

alleiwentcrazy · 7 months ago

Text

“Wait,” Steve propped himself on his elbow, getting into a half-lying, half-sitting up position, “you’d do that for me?”

“Yeah man,” Eddie replied. He shimmied a little bit closer to the middle of the mattress and snuggled to his pillow. His eyebrows furrowed as he yawned. “I mean, I kind of did that already, didn’t I?”

Steve just kept on looking at him, stunned. It felt so strange to be cared for; to be remembered, known. He’d never had been, not like that—with Robin, sure, but that was different. He’d never felt like that with Nancy. With anyone. He hadn’t had to try and make out someone’s silhouette in the darkness, just to read their face and decide whether they were just selfless and nice or doing something for him. Truly for him, for the sake of doing it for him. It had never been an issue, because there had never been anyone about whom he’d had to wonder things like that. It had always been an exchange of sorts in this context.

But not with Eddie.

Steve’s head started to spin.

“Honestly I can’t wait for you to see it. You know she’s not really my type, but even I can see how fucking cool this car is. It felt a little like tuning my guitar or—”

Steve didn’t even register it when he reached for Eddie’s face, his consciousness wasn’t in the room when he lowered himself down and sank even closer to the boy who’d put his heart in a wrench. He just kissed him, and when he did – momentarily, it was a complete bliss. As long as his lips were gently pressed to Eddie’s, no matter how hard his heart was beating, it felt like he would be okay after all. Nothing else was important; he was kissing Eddie. He felt warm and cared for; he was kissing Eddie.

Eddie.

Steve felt a finger hook at the rim of his shirt, he felt himself being pulled closer.

The panic came approximately three seconds later.

Their lips parted with the softest tsk, but Steve heard it several times louder. His senses were screaming at him, all alarms set off; the smell of Eddie’s shampoo lingered around his face, the sensation of chapped lips lingered against his, his fingers were tingling where they came in contact with Eddie’s slightest stubble.

It was curious how much Eddie reminded him of a cat at that moment. He was rigid, but ready to spring into action whenever, and his eyes were ridiculously big, almost fluorescent in the dim moonlight that was seeping through the trailer’s curtains. The longer Steve looked into those eyes, the more he felt like he might have fucked up. Bad.

“Should I—I should, I mean I…” He trailed off, getting a little further away from Eddie with every word. “I should, yeah, probably. Go.”

He practically jumped out of the bed, and it pained him how cold it was without Eddie close to him. He’d gotten so used to sleeping here, just sleeping, whenever Wayne was out and no uncomfortable questions would be asked, so that they both could feel a little less alone.

“I’ll take the van, we’ll exchange cars later today, alright?” Steve looked for his change of clothes in the darkness. They were, as usual, neatly stacked in his designated space at Eddie’s desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I mean, I did, but I’m, uh. I’m…” He trailed off, his cheeks getting embarrassingly hot and pink, he supposed, even though he couldn’t see himself in the mirror.

It felt wrong to say he was sorry. He was, obviously, he just kissed Eddie out of nowhere, but it didn’t feel like a mistake. His lips were still warm. He wanted to purse them tightly to keep the memory of Eddie’s lips on his firmly in place.

“We should do it again.”

Steve froze.

“What?”

He turned back towards the bed. It was much easier to make out Eddie’s form now. He was sitting up, chewing his thumbnail, his eyes barely flickering to Steve. His hair stood out against the white-ish wall and Eddie’s gray T-shirt. The waves were quite disheveled, but still cascaded beautifully over his shoulders.

Damn, Steven.

“We should do it again. If you’re not sure, we should do it again.”

Not sure about what? Steve did not dare ask. Eddie looked so nervous, maybe even more nervous than Steve felt. Both of their breaths were coming short now, as if they’d just run a marathon.

Apprehensively, Steve sat back down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped underneath him and he swayed a bit forward.

“We should kiss. Again?” That really was what it was, right?

Eddie nodded his head quickly. Steve’s breath hitched when the smell of Eddie’s shampoo reached his nose once again.

There were very few thoughts in Steve’s head. There was just Eddie, right in front of him, chewing his nail, nodding away. Wanting to kiss him, again, having been kissed once already. Steve was confused and more than a little queasy, but his willpower wasn’t quite strong enough to get him questioning things.

“Okay,” he mumbled. Eddie finally looked at him, lowered his hand to his lap and nodded.

Some sort of nervous sound rumbled in the back of Steve’s throat. Okay. It was okay. He leaned in—and Eddie leaned in at the same time. Warm breath tickled Steve’s lips, and he stopped just before meeting Eddie half-way.

“Are you su—”

Eddie was kissing him before the sentence got out of his mouth in its entirety. Really kissing him, not just pressing their lips together, kissing him, still incredibly stiff and distanced, but kissing him. Oh, with something more than just curiosity, Steve could tell. He let out one heavy breath through his nose and felt Eddie relax right away with him. Their lips were in perfect harmony; Steve’s chest tightened. His stomach felt heavy and full and squirmy and for some reason Steve had never felt better than in this moment, even though his eyes stung and he could barely breathe.

His hands acted on their own accord, one settling on Eddie’s shoulder, the other on his cheek, keeping him close, closer, closer still.

Their lips parted. Steve felt the loss immediately.

“I’m gonna…” Eddie whispered huskily, untangling his legs from the cover and shifting his position. It was funny how one of his knees kind of hovered over Steve’s lap in silent question – it was even funnier how long it took Steve to process that.

“Yeah, feel free, please.”

What the fuck, Steven.

Eddie straddled his lap and leaned right back for another kiss, pressing their chests together. Their hearts kept thump thump thumping loudly against their chests, and Steve was kind of actively losing his mind over that. Eddie, in his gray T-shirt and stupid plaid shorts, was straddling his lap, kissing him, making him believe that he had the whole world in the palm of his hand. Was it even real? Could Steve touch him? Would it really be alright? He laid his hand on Eddie’s thigh, feeling hair and goosebumps underneath his fingers. Another conclusion from that night: Eddie was hot. Steve kissed him harder, and he reciprocated, grabbing Steve’s neck.

Steve had no idea for how long they had been kissing, until Eddie swayed dangerously close to the edge of the bed and Steve’s neck started to hurt. It wasn’t nearly enough, but that was it.

For now, hopefully.

“It’s getting late,” he mumbled against Eddie’s lips, “and you’ve got to be at the shop at 8 sharp tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said and stole one more peck. “You wanna sleep?”

Fuck me if I can, Steve thought, but nodded yes.

“But let’s talk tomorrow? Okay?”

Eddie’s hands were still cupping his cheeks. His lips seemed sleek and shiny, shinier than his eyes, even.

“We must,” he replied. They both nodded. For some reason Steve’s heart started beating even faster now.

Eddie scrambled from his lap, cleared his throat and rearranged the covers, getting back into his favourite position. Steve followed suit. The gap between them seemed enormous and immediately got filled with anxious energy.

Steve reached between them hesitantly. For a few seconds his hand just lay there, empty and suddenly very cold. Eddie’s open palm touched his. He let out a big breath.

They would figure it out. For sure. Tomorrow.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st4 #posting steddie in 2025 feels like a crime #i just wanted to make them kiss lol. there's no story for that #and write something after what felt like literal ages #if anyone reads it: i salute you

1K notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 13 days ago

Text

Veiled Secrets

art is by @3-aem they're insanely talented 🥹

pairings- emperor! gojo x arranged empress! reader

contents/warnings - Historically INNACURATE asf, heavy angst, depression, enemies to lovers, longing, mutual pining, explicit smut, back and forth games, court tactics, Satoru being a hoe, reader missing her lover Suguru, a fuck ton of drama and games, he falls first and he falls hard. This chap- light angst, choking, possessive Satoru, fingering, semi public sex, a LOT of sex tbh, creampie, breed kink, messy dynamics, jealousy, may seem fluffy but angst is looming, them being cute - 11.2k

<<<part three - playlist - part five (soon)

part four

You wake up in Emperor Gojo’s bed.

You feel the soreness over every inch of your body, every bit of you aching, muscles tense, your cunt is throbbing. You didn’t feel any pain with Satoru last night, just quite a stretch and intense pleasure, but clearly your body was completely unused to such exertions. You could only compare it to horse riding long treks, except this was an all over sensation.

You turn and look at him then, the sunlight is filtering through the slit of the royal blue curtains, illuminating his perfect features. Satoru is irritatingly beautiful, the glowing skin smooth as porcelain, not a blemish to be found anywhere on his face. His snowy lashes are as lush as any woman’s you’ve seen, thick and soft, just like the silky strands falling against his forehead.

You brush them off before you think better of it, he shifts a bit, his plump lips parting, breath warm against your thumb as it brushes against one. You expected to feel attraction, pleasure… you didn’t expect this affection to blossom in your chest. It makes you feel disloyal to the memories of Suguru, it makes you feel foolish knowing in a few days he’d likely go back to his other women.

You don’t want to feel tender towards him, don’t want to admit you’re yearning to learn more, ever so much more about the man next to you, the one with his bulky arm slung right over your waist. The one that had been so far a source of your hurt, just the night before last he’d ripped that necklace – but now it sits on the dresser, somehow fixed.

Who was the Emperor?

Why do you care so very much?

He was so sweet with you, even for all his filthy words that make you blush right there in the morning sunlight. The way he looked at you with unfairly beautiful eyes was enough to ruin you altogether, the way his fingers entwined with yours, his cum that had just pumped inside you. Something that felt too intimate to be just for circumstance.

He said you're better in every way.

He’s not a man to suck up or act devoted, so the words felt genuine, maybe they mean too much. Maybe you’re too comfortable in his arms, knowing that you intended on spending that first time with someone else. Satoru’s mother’s words last night however linger in your mind – don’t prevent happiness by dwelling on the past.

Your nightmares are getting the best of you, so difficult to navigate all of your complex feelings when your subconscious is torn, between brand new feelings and the old ones lingering. With Suguru you felt so precious, so honored, yet with Satoru he treated you nothing like the princess you were, and there’s something thrilling and freeing in that.

‘Arch for me.’

You heat up at the very thoughts swirling through your mind, heart racing in your chest, hammering so quickly your breath quickens, fingers drifting across one of those high cheekbones, he shifts a bit, long lashes fluttering. You’re only wearing one of his robes, and it feels as intimate as the two of you making love.

Was it love making? It felt that way…

Was it special to him?

The thoughts are all swirling together, your self doubts creeping in – Lola hitting you, them kissing on Satoru at that chess game, you know he’s making some efforts to focus on you, but you wonder how long he’ll be interested. Are you mistaking his lust for devotion?

You lift his arm gently, turning and sitting up on the high bed, it is indeed comfier than yours, it’s likely the comfiest bed you’ve felt, fit for a king - or emperor, rather. The pretty posts with intricate carvings on all four corners, the pretty canopy surrounding it draped just a bit overhead, little gold leaves speckling across it. They catch the light and glimmer, peaceful almost.

It feels perfect in this bed, in his arms, you shiver just stepping away from him, bare feet on the cold tile beneath you, a vast contrast from the warmth. Your eyes turn to the dresser, the one he’d fucked you on, Suguru’s chain just pressing into your thigh, the vision of those marks has your tummy clenching in hot need. You should be furious he did it to you.

You’re not, you thought it was fucking hot, you hate yourself for it, for craving and desiring everything he did. Even playing with you at that table, for every part that was furious, an equal part found it desperately attractive, merely adding to the confusion that has fallen across your body, mind, heart. You want to hate him, you said that you did, but you don’t even feel that.

You want him to yourself, a toxic and selfish thought, one dangerous and only going to doom you to pain. Surely that will just cause pain, to fall in love with a man that’ll never be yours, one that you’ll have to share with others, split his time, know he’s inside someone else. It makes you sick to think of when that day will come, and how far you’ll have already fallen.

Standing, you take a shaky breath, feet padding quietly on your trek to the elaborate dresser you’d positively dripped on, with the two tangled chains. One, bright sapphire and white gold, the other was the delicate chain and the tag with those initials, something so special, one of the few things you have not just from him, but from home all together.

Your fingers touch it, good as new, one could not tell that he’d ripped it off your neck, left you in tears. Emotions burn the back of your eyes, causing lips to tremble, hands to shake just a bit, touching the letters and then eyeing Satoru’s necklace. Thick, immaculate, as majestic as his eyes – almost. Nothing truly came close to them, though hints of that sapphire prismatically matched certain spots of his iris.

You can’t stay in the past.

But how do you just leave it? And for someone who will never completely be yours and yours alone?

You pick up the necklace carefully, unlatching the little clasp, when you’re barred by two thick, muscled arms. You shriek in shock, trying to turn and look at him behind you, but he forces your chin ahead, to look in the gold gilded looking glass, seeing the clear reflections of Satoru’s shirtless form behind you. His veins press out from underneath the taut skin, heat from behind you sinking in.

“I clearly haven’t done my job,” he murmurs, hand slipping down to your thigh, before tugging it up, so your knee is on the dresser, your other leg dangling. Your fingers grip the top of it, gasping out. “If you’re so eager to wear that fucking necklace again.”

“I just… mnh!” Satoru shoves two thick digits in your mouth, watching as you suck on them in that mirror, before pulling them out, coated in your spit. “I really just… oh fuck.”

His saliva coated fingers shove deep in your little hole, you grip him like a vise, your pretty eyes rolling back, making him as enamored as he is furious at you. His other arm wraps around, dragging you down so his fingers can deepen inside you, pressing on that spot over and over. You’re soaking him already, cunt so perfect he can’t wait to fuck the thought of this other man from your mind.

“You haven’t learned who you belong to, sweetheart,” he whispers, blue eyes gone black in his reflection, fingers almost hitting your cervix. “Do you need more reminders? I can remind you all day.”

“Who do y-you belong to, hmm? G-god…” Satoru curves those fingers up again, you’re pulsing around him, tummy tensing with need. He starts scissoring them in and out, up and down, torturing you and getting you close, then yanking them out, hearing your pathetic little whine. “Fuck you.”

“You want to, hmm?” He sucks your cunt off his fingers, moaning at your sweet taste, so addictive, before grabbing his thick cock, pressing the mushroomed head between your folds. “I am not thinking of anyone but you.”

“For now, mnh… after your w-week, what then? You’re a - ah! - hypocrite, y’know that, Emperor. Oh my-” Satoru smacks your thigh, so hard it stings, just making you wetter, tip pressing over and over, teasing but never entering. “Just fuck me.”

“Not with him in your pretty little fucking head,” he’s gliding his tip between your puffy lips, leaking sticky cum along your clit, you’re desperately arching for more, earning his chuckle. “Hah, such a slut, aren’t you?”

“You’re the slut, go take a bath with your whores again - will you just put it in, mnh!” He’s grabbing both necklaces now, tip moving faster and faster, when you’re close from that he notices, pulling it off again. “Oh my god! You’re such a dick.”

“You’re a slutty little fucking brat,” he turns your chin so you look into his eyes, ones you fall into entirely too much. “Pick a necklace.”

“I can’t…”

“You can, and you will. Want my cock inside you?” You nod desperately, moaning obscenely when his tip presses your hole, only to slip back between your folds. “I’ll use you, not let you cum, fuck your slit until you’re covered in my seed. Is that what my bride wants?”

“N-no,” you’re shaking your head, something about him being jealous, furious, it’s ruining you further, memories fading with every stroke, with every touch, every look at this man. “I’m sorry, okay!? I just wanted to… have a memory…”

“No thoughts of anyone but me. I promise I will give you the same, if you act correctly, can you?” You shut your eyes, earning a light smack on one of your bare tits, the silk of that robe falling and barely hanging on. “I will be all you think of.”

“Shut up, god just fuck me,” you’re lost in his teasing, his insanity, the way he looks at you. Not like you’re some pretty princess, but something to be devoured, to be ruined, to be claimed, feral fucking look that almost ends you. “You want me.”

“Yes I fucking want you,” he moans desperately now, biting your neck, earning your cry. “Won’t write you sonnets, won’t kiss your hand like your dumb knight, no I’ll put babies inside you instead, have you constantly full of me. Huh?”

“Idiot,” you’re pulling away, but you’re dripping down your thighs, trickles running down his calves. “You’re so toxic.”

“So are you,” he smirks, looking far too fucking attractive. “Pick. A. Necklace.”

“No.”

“All right,” he starts moving again, but this time between your thighs, moaning as you’re desperately trying to feel more. “I’ll cum using your thighs, I don’t need your cunt to do it.”

“W-what!?”

“Mmm, then I’ll fuck your throat tonight,” he wraps his fingers around your delicate neck, squeezing it with just enough pressure. Your fingernails press into his forearms, dusted with the softest fine white hairs under your touch. “I’ll make you swallow me, over and over, and never let you cum.”

“You’re the worst,” your glare makes him pulse more, how fucking pretty you are in his robe, with his hand print blossoming on your breast. All he can think is his, you’re all his, in this moment nothing exists but that man in your brain. “I don’t think of h-him when I’m with you, and I hate that.”

Satoru pauses then, at your vulnerable answer, your tears in your eyes glimmering while you look up at him. “Why are you grabbing it.”

“I’m forgetting already… I…”

“Good.”

“Gojo!”

“Satoru,” he’s fucking toxic, psychotic, you thought for a moment he cared, but he’s grinning with those sharp white teeth, ones that left indentations in your skin. “Pick a necklace.”

Your shaky hands stumble on the blue sapphires, to the utter delight of your possessive, ridiculous new husband. “There, happy you psycho?”

“Put it on.”

“You’re so-”

“Put. It. On.” You’re shaking violently, struggling with the clasp, making his grin grow, his pink tip leaking more as he fucks between your thighs, just barely touching your needy cunt. “Need help?”

“Fuck off,” you manage to clasp it some how, and he groans then, that tip still edging you, now finally pressing just a bit into your hole, she’s quivering around just that. “Picked your necklace.”

“It’s just me,” he murmurs softly, you hate him, but it is just him, one hand under your thigh, the other brushing the back of your neck. “Say it.”

“You’re so pretentious, will you just fuck me already- mnh!” Satoru tugs on that necklace now, the thick white gold pressing into your skin, shoving his cock fully inside your tight little cunt, the stretch and pain so blissful you almost cum. His eyes are so dark they’re scary, brows low, that smirk quirking up his lips.

“You’re all mine, these perfect tits,” he starts moving then, deep, long strokes inside you, gripping a tit and squishing it in his big hand, you’re desperately whining, while he tugs that necklace tighter. “That beautiful body, gorgeous face on such a mean little whore.”

“F-fuck you…” he’s fucking you harder, tits jiggling with every thrust, your eyes are rolled back in your skull, losing oxygen while the necklace cuts off your airways, making his cock feel that much more intense. “M-more…”

“What’d you say, sweetheart?” he cooes, cruel and mean with his strokes, that thick cock wrecking you, while drool spills from your mouth. “You say you’re all mine?”

You gasp as he tightens it more, the sapphires digging into your throat, cock wet and messy with how much you’re gushing. “N-no…”

“No? Hah…” Satoru’s cock fucks you deeper, letting go of the necklace long enough to let you breathe, he eyes the marks on your skin hungrily, shoving so deep he’s bruising your cervix. “Are you mine?”

“Are you?” You ask again, eyes meeting his in the looking glass, your hand slipping up to touch your throat, while the other clings to the dresser for balance. “Would you ever be?”

“Yes,” his whisper halts you. “I’m here.”

“F-for now.” He shoves deep inside you, rocking against your cervix while you gasp out.

“I don’t want to ever leave your cunt,” you shake your head, he cups your face, wrapping his other arm around you. “I don’t ever want to not feel this.”

“Stop talking like that, I’ll think you care… d-don’t make me hurt more,” you’re crying when you look to the side, his fingers caressing your jaw. “Liked you better as a mean little manwhore.”

“Did you now,” he sighs, brushing a tear off, halting his movements, thickening inside your walls. “Maybe I like you sweet.”

“M’not sweet…” He sighs, kissing your lips for the first time this morning, and that’s when you can’t hold back anymore, whining out and getting lost in it.

“You are so sweet,” he’s looking at you in that way of his, the one that’s ruining your brain, the one that scares the fuck out of you. Can you trust him? Is it real? “No thoughts in that head but how good this feels.”

“Mnh…” He’s picked you up, sliding out of you, you’re desperately reaching for him when he drags you over to the pretty blue chaise, laying you down across it, eyeing your body slowly, running his cock between your folds again. “Please…”

“You’re saying please?” He’s whispering, taunting you, tilting his head while he slips back inside, moaning softly. “You’re always so wet for me.”

You don’t answer, you are soaking wet, when his cock stuffs you so full, and the pleasure is even more intense than last night, you’re sensitive and sore when he lifts a thigh over his hip. You’re clinging to him, biting your lower lip so hard it almost bleeds, nails pressing into his perfect skin while he moves, every abdomen flexing, sweat forming in a thin sheen on his body.

He whines out softly as you roll your hips up, gripping one and pressing his thumb into your hip bone, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Don’t-”

“You are,” you shake your head again, he’s desperately fucking you, speaking the words that ring in his head since he met you, leaning lower, too intimate, his breath against your lips. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He halts his movements for a moment when tears slip down your cheeks, your lip trembling, Satoru worries he hurt you, easing back, touching the marks on your neck and swallowing the guilt. He hates the effects you have, how you make him so fucking jealous, so furious like nothing else, changing him every moment that he breathes your air.

“Too rough earlier?” He murmurs softly, wiping a tear, and you shake your head again, taking a breath, a hand slipping tentatively up the back of his neck, your heart hammering in your chest.

“No, I liked it all… I want more…” he moans, kissing you again, moving his hips slowly, lips plush and firm as his cock hits your spot over and over, and you’re close to falling apart. “It’s just I… believe you.”

“It’s the truth,” you shake your head once more, earning his sigh, his forehead resting against yours, breaths entwining. “You are so beautiful.”

“So are you.” He pauses, leaning up to wonder if you’re kidding, but you’re just looking up at him, in this way he never thought he’d see from you. “You are.”

“Fuck…” Satoru’s slamming his lips down, cock moving once more, lost as he deepens the kiss, his drooling tip against your cervix, bottoming out so deep you both cry out. “Feel so perfect, made for me.”

You’re not protesting, he does feel perfect inside you, you’re so close you can’t take it, desperately whining out when he eases up, picking up your fingers.

“Touch yourself.”

You flush at that, looking down to watch him kiss your fingers, something he said he wouldn’t do, but he does, holding himself up on one arm. “In front of you?”

“Yes,” you reach between you both, he looks down at your body and exhales at the sight, pressing kisses along your inner knee while he holds it up. “Touch your little clit for me.”

You should argue, but you do just that, finger touching the little pearl that’s soaked, twitching in response, your fingers brushing his cock that’s sticky with you. You whine out then, so beautiful he can’t stand it, the sight of your flushed cheeks and dilated eyes enough to make him say the most foolish words.

“That’s it, you can listen,” he’s taunting, but you’re too lost in his slow strokes, dragging just on that spot he knows you like from how you move, how you gush. “Being such a good girl.”

You’re trembling, so close to your peak, breasts pressed together for his hungry mouth to suck on, his big hands taking over your body, lifting your hips, slamming so deep while your finger works, slipping off almost. “M’close, please.”

“Then come,” he whispers, brushing your hair back, rolling his hips just so. “Come all over my cock.”

“Ngh!” You’re lost, the orgasm wrecking you, until you can’t even fucking see, fingers falling while you’re convulsing, pleasure in waves through your entire body. “Satoru…”

“That’s it,” he relishes in the way his name sounds on your pretty lips, taking your fingers and sucking your juices off, fucking you faster, harder, moaning as he reaches his peak. “Want all of it inside you?”

“Yes,” it’s without hesitation, you’re dragging him down, kissing him hungrily, while he fucks into you, skin smacking, wetness echoing in a messy mix of breathy cries and squishing, until he tilts up your chin, lips coated in saliva as he murmurs your name. The way he cradles your face, mixed with his pretty little cries, push you over the edge once more. “Please.”

“You’re so sweet like this, fuck I’ll give it all to you,” his seed shoots up deep in your slick, tacky walls, milking his cock like she wants those babies inside her. He’s lost, kissing you again and again, having never felt anything like that release. You’re shaking, he feels you coming again on him. “Yes, take it sweetheart, take me.”

“God…” you’re at a loss for any further words, the second orgasm softer and slower than the first, but just as intense, you’re blinking spots away from your field of vision, shaky hands slipping up his sides. He’s slowed now, just staying there, pulsing inside you, looking down at you with his snowy lashes.

“God…” He repeats, like it’s the only word you two can come up with, nothing else is touching it, what just transpired between you two. He’s caressing your cheek as he exhales, resting his weight on you, studying you. “So beautiful.”

“You really think it,” you murmur, he nods then, earning your flushed cheeks. “You’ve seen all of me.”

“Yes I certainly have,” he grins and you giggle, the sound so foreign to either of you, that you both quiet. The sound fills him with things he can’t tangibly grasp or comprehend yet, exhaling and kissing you once more. “You are the most beautiful girl.”

“The others-”

“Shh,” he’s easing out of you, making you whine out just a bit, he eyes the sapphires on your collar bones, his marks all over you. “Stop speaking of them.”

You swallow nervously, nodding for once, you’ll think of something smart to say later, but for now you’re too gone in him, in the bliss you feel, to think of what is right or wrong. To worry of what will occur later on, to fear if he’s going to discard you, to feel guilty that your first love isn’t on your mind anymore.

All fears you’ll address later.

For now, he nuzzles your neck, so sweet after fucking you, he doesn’t get up and leave, he doesn’t say that your duty is done, no he’s there for you, giving you the reassurance you don’t know you need. You’re emotional, trying to feel a modicum of anger at his actions, but all you can find is affection, desire, wanting more of him, seeing that he is trying in his uniquely insane manner.

“Gojo…”

“Why am I only Satoru when you cum?” He raises a brow, leaning up, you giggle again. “Fuck you’re cute when you do that.”

“Am I?”

“Very. Cuter than your mean scowl.”

“Oh!” You shove at him and he laughs, the sound far too attractive, deep and throaty, moments you see his youth, his playfulness.

“What was it?”

“I thought… we could ride horses perhaps. You said you like to.”

“Will you be too sore?” He taunts, brushing against you, making you hiss.

“I can handle it.”

“You’re so sexy.”

“You’re so odd.” He scowls, you’re smiling again. “We said we would try, and I need to uphold my end of this too.”

“And you’ll wear this?” He murmurs, touching it gently on your neck, lifting the cool metal off your overheated skin. You nod then. “Then yes, we’ll ride horses together.”

“I’ll beat you at any race.”

“Oh will you?”

“Mmm, what’re you doing?” He’s kissing down your body, eyeing the cum leaking from your hole and moaning. “Gojo!”

“Satoru.” He shoves his fingers inside you, making that cum disappear, smirking like a deviant when you wriggle.

“If you don’t stop I will be too sore to ride,” he sighs, pulling them out and clicking his tongue, while the door sounds with a knock.

“Yes?”

“Master Gojo, there is tea and breakfast ready for you and Lady Gojo.”

“Kiyotaka, she’s currently dripping-”

“Shut up!” You slam a hand on his mouth, he’s chuckling against it. “Don’t tell him!?”

“Why, he wants you.”

“What!? Ijichi, we will be down presently!”

“Ahem, very well my lady,” you hear footsteps run off and you glare at your white haired demon.

“He’s probably going to stroke himself to your moans.”

“I do hate you, I forgot.” You stand up, shoving him, when he grabs your hips, pressing a little kiss between your breasts.

“Stop it, we will go do whatever you want to, all right?” His eyes are lit up, your hands brush through his hair, making you both pause.

It feels too natural, too perfect.

It terrifies you both.

*****

“My lady, Master Gojo wishes to see you in the throne room,” Kiyotaka informs you a few days later, Miwa is fixing your hair up into an elegant chignon for today’s guests that are visiting.

“Oh, I’ll be there soon, if you’ll let him know,” Kiyotaka smiles, for just a few days ago you would have told Satoru absolutely not. He smiles at Miwa knowingly, as they watch your relationship blossom.

It’s been a beautiful thing to see for them, and for the Dowager Empress, though the three concubines hate it. Lola has been banished, Satoru would have liked to do more but her connections are high up and many. To risk angering the ranks of her family was foolish and dangerous, plus as mad as you were, you didn’t truly want someone killed or cruelly punished.

You suppose she’s obsessed with Satoru, the way she acted, the way she pleaded with him when he sent her off. You had witnessed the moment, seen his frustration in not being able to do more, even as the Emperor he had many ties, many obligations, to this family and that, to this country and this business. Yet Lola’s last look at you sent shivers down your spine.

Something in her eyes, as if she wanted to end you, wanted to take everything you had. Satoru had kissed you as they took her away, but you caught that fleeting look as she retreated. “She won’t hurt you now.”

You had kissed him back, trusting him.

You trust Satoru Gojo more every day, yet there is still so much you worry for, and those girls were the main thing. You don’t know how his Mama handled her husband doing so much worse, you can’t even stand them near Satoru now, the feelings surprising you as they grow.

Satoru was frustrated, never being fully able to do what he wanted in those situations. Always a council for this, a bunch of old people going on and on about traditions, and the old way of this, the old way of that. He knows he’s already infuriating and angering many with his conduct since he got his pretty new foreign bride.

Now he waits, sitting on the large throne in the center of a pretentious room, finishing up plans to leave when you walk in, and Kiyotaka announces your arrival. Satoru feels his heart pound in his chest when he realizes he won’t be able to look at his feisty empress every day for some time.

“Out, my wife is here,” he waves his men away, soon the heavy tall doors shut behind you, and you’re across from him. “Come sit.”

“What is all this?” You ask curiously, lifting your robes to step up, for him to snatch you quickly, dragging you to one thigh. “Oh!”

“No kiss since this morning,” he slams his lips hungry on yours, drinking in your soft little cry, you cling to him desperately, gone is much of the initial fight of your feelings. You just fall into them now, fall into him, he pulls back and sighs, forehead resting on yours. “How was your day?”

“It was well, Satoru,” you shift a bit, casually using his name in just the span of a few days. “What was the meeting on?”

He sighs, brushing back a little tendril that has escaped from Miwa’s updo, studying you carefully. “There’s a military issue I must address, and it will require me to be gone for several weeks.”

“What?” You blink tears so quickly it shocks you, he brushes one of your cheeks, smiling a bit.

“Will you miss me, mean little Empress?”

“I’ll miss your annoyance, surely…” You try to halt your tears, how has he become so dear in a week?

In this week you’ve barely spent a moment without him, riding horses, having picnics, him showing you areas of the grounds you’ve never seen. Waking up in his arms, cock against your backside, hungrily touching you, making love to you, languidly lounging in your chambers till noon. Neither of you spoke about what it was becoming, you were both too afraid.

He got a couple games of chess where he finally at least got to a stalemate, but he never could beat you truly. It was hours you two would play, with crowds gathering at certain points, only to see the Emperor lose again and again. You both would place bets, at one point he had to carry you around the palace on his back while you embarrassingly said - ‘giddyup!’ - for which he punished you later.

You spent as much time in bed as out of it.

Dinners were private, you both learned more about each other, though many things were left unsaid. You did not bring up Suguru, he would not bring up Lola or any of the girls, it was not necessary and just tender topics to two young lovers who are rather exceedingly jealous. Still just a bit unsure of where you both stand.

Now it truly sinks in, however, every feeling you haven’t expressed yet, so new and so scary.

“I may miss your scowls a bit,” he teases, you glare, and he chuckles. “That’s the very one, so sexy like that.”

“You can’t just leave, I have to wreck you at croquet! We haven’t gotten the supplies in yet,” you murmur, he sees through the lines, hand against the small of your back, palm warm through the layers. “They’re supposed to be in next week, you’re running scared.”

“I see, I’ll have to take a rain check and beat you at your own game when I return,” Satoru tilts your chin up, his eyes just a little lidded, soft silk of his robes brushing against your skin. “Is that all you’ll miss?”

“Perhaps I shall miss your bed,” you don’t want to admit it, and neither does he, that the affection has blossomed, that it continues to every moment. “It’s so comfortable, would you send me back to mine?”

“No indeed, sweetheart. You shall stay in my bed, touch the pretty cunt and think about- mnh.” You’re kissing him quiet, his hand slips to your hip then, tugging you onto his lap, feeling your heat against his cock. “You like that idea, so slutty.”

“Hush, you like that idea.” You kiss him over and over, hands entangling in his soft locks, obscenely straddling him right on that throne, his thick cock pressing against where you’re aching. “Won’t you miss my mouth?”

“I do enjoy when you shut it. Ow!” He’s grinning even as you’ve smacked him on the shoulder, dragging you further down on him.

“When do you leave?” You murmur, he hears the shakiness of your voice.

“You will miss me.”

“Shut up, you’re so arrogant…” You kiss down his cheek, hugging him around his neck tightly. “When?”

“At nightfall.” Your heart sinks.

“So I won’t even have you in bed?” It spills out before you can help it, pulling back and looking down.

“I will not be gone for very long,” his fingers brush under the swells of your breasts, making you tremble. “Our week is over today, you know.”

“Will you spend your last… evening without me?” You whisper, he hears your connotation, shaking his head quickly.

“No, of course not, only you shall be with me today.”

“When you get back, will it be as it was before I came here?” Satoru hears your tension, your worry.

“So you are jealous.”

“Not at all, curious rather,” his lashes lower while he studies your mouth, a hand cupping your face carefully. “Don’t you miss your little brats?”

“I’m more than content with the brattiest girl in the world, right here.”

“You’ll leave me with them?” Satoru frowns now, the playfulness gone from your voice, the self doubt creeping in.

“They will not harm a hair on you, and they better not displease you, especially with Mama around. She’ll be with you while I’m gone.”

“I see.”

It’s quiet, unspoken words between you both, his thumb running circles delicately up your jaw. “You want me all to yourself, you’re greedy from a few days with me?”

“I can’t stand you truly,” you go to get up, but he drags you back down, tugging a breast out so quickly you gasp. “Always so perverted.”

“Always showing these perfect tits,” he leans down, wrapping his pouty lips around one of them, you’re dripping as he sucks it, gasps echoing in the immaculate room, mingling with his soft growl. “How about you fuck your emperor right here, hmm? Claim your rightful seat.”

“You’re ridiculous, mnh…” It’s too late, he’s desperately tugging at your robes, parting them with a quick untie of the sash around your waist, while his lips kiss you everywhere.

“Claim me for yourself, since you’re so greedy, that pretty hole is dripping all over my seat,” he slips two fingers up inside your cunt, while you kneel up, head falling back, his other hand gripping a breast tightly. “You’ll miss my cock inside you, admit it.”

“Shut it, you’re always t-talking too much… oh fuck!” Satoru’s curling those fingers inside you, pressing that spot over and over, making you whine out desperately, thighs shaking, as he looks at you that way.

Yes, you’ll miss him.

For much more than his touch.

The conceited man knows it, his lips quirking up all glossy, lips that had kissed all over your body this morning, his fingers scissoring in and out of your cunt now. Your nails dig into his shoulders, hips grinding against his hand for more, aching to be filled by him again. You always want this man inside you, against you – on top of you, and now… under you.

He keeps rocking them, knowing you’ll squirt if he keeps going. He's so cruel he enjoys making a mess of you, enjoys taunting you for it, but you’re so desperate for his touch, for his pleasure, you don’t care. There’s no protest or little fight, it’s all just you desperately writhing on top of him, tears slipping across your cheeks with how close you are to the edge.

“That’s it, make a mess of me, there you go, good girl,” you’re spasming around his fingers, cunt just gushing down them, coating them in your slick, eyes rolling back as you grip him, shattering. “Perfect cunt, she loves me.”

“Shh,” you’re barely functional when he drags your juices across your lips, then kisses your arousal off you. “Want you in me.”

“Demanding little whore of mine, hah.” You slap him across the face, just making him harder, while he frees his cock, bringing your slick cunt against him. “Going to ride me for the first time?”

“If I can ride a horse, I can certainly ride you,” he’s grinning, but the grin is turned into parted lips when you sink down on him, inch by inch, easing up then down further, earning his blush, his gasp. “You like it, don’t you?”

“Conceited empress, f-fuck… yes I do…” You’d gloat if you weren’t being stretched by him, if he wasn’t looking at you with those eyes, his hands gripping your waist under your parted robes, dragging you down for more. “Fuck your cunt is perfect… body is perfect… face so pretty…”

He’s whispering praises with kisses, gasping when you take more, your nails digging into his skin over his robes, whining out at every movement. He’s kissing up your neck so hungrily, tongue trailing across your throat, while you’re shaking, cock filling you more and more. Your cunt gets wetter with every movement.

You hear it, how wet it is, while his breaths ring in your ear, his tongue tracing the shell of it – murmuring your name. You’re already sensitive from his fingers, that ridge on the tip of his cock pressing that spot and almost ending you. You’re rocking more, bouncing up and down with his hands gripping your ass, his urgent kisses growing rougher.

“Fuck, just like that,” he whispers, dragging his lips away from where he’s marked your skin to look up at you, fucked out and flushed. “You ride it like a whore, just you’re my little whore.”

“You’re the whore - ah!” Satoru bucks his hips up, making you whine out, his hands gripping you tighter as he lifts you.

“I’ll use you to cum if you keep it up,” he’s lying. The man has never once not made sure you have cum since he met you, even when you suck him he’s down on his knees returning it till you bathe him in your essence. “You want to be aching for an entire month?”

“Fuck you,” you’re doing just that, fucking your husband, cock gliding in easier even with the girth, your cunt does know his shape. “You’ll be the one - mnh - aching.”

“Will you play with this pretty cunt in my bed, thinking of me?” He’s needy now, whining out and sinking his teeth into your bare shoulder, bucking his hips up again inside you, cock filling you so full.

“Y-yes,” you want to tease, but you cannot, you need him, and desperately. “I’ll cum right on your pretty, expensive sheets.”

“Fuck… you’re so slutty…” He loves it, fuck he loves every inch of you, desperate for more. “Gonna play with your clit?”

“Y-yes - ah!” He’s holding you down, tip drooling against your cervix, plush of your thighs gripping him on either side. “Satoru!”

“Going to slip your fingers inside your tiny hole?” You blush even as you’re riding him, biting your lip as he drags you down again, needy as he rocks you. “Will you fuck yourself with them?”

“Do you want me to?” He nods quickly, and you gasp out when he thickens. “Yes-”

The door opens with a loud squeak, dragging on the floor. You panic, but Satoru pins you down, scowling over your shoulder as three concubines enter. “The fuck are you three doing?”

“We came to say good bye - what’s she doing!?”

“She’s riding me,” he drags you down again, grinning at the furious girls, you’re just as fucked up from it, relishing in the stupid little whores seeing it. “Can you all leave so I can fuck my wife now?”

“Oh!” They’re rushing out, surely gossiping and plotting your demise, but Satoru just grins up at you.

“You know they’ll hate me more, r-right?” You manage, though your walls gripping him tells him everything.

He smirks now, blue eyes dilated dark, just a hint of his teeth showing. “I’ll fuck you in front of them, cum in you in front of them.”

“Satoru!”

“I will,” he’s kissing you now, your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he moves slowly. “I never came in them.”

You pause for a moment, and he falters, as if realizing he spoke it. You blink rapidly, terrified of that moment, because you believe him. Terrified to be hurt, like the former Empress, to fall even deeper into the torrential storm that was Emperor Gojo, the husband underneath you.

He’s vulnerable then, and so are you, both taking shaky breaths, slowly moving once more, words spoken with looks that you’re both too scared to say out loud. You, scared he’ll go back to them once you’re not shiny and new, and him, so scared that he’s not in your heart.

“Just me?” You whisper finally, he nods, a jerky motion, and you’re gone, riding him faster, whining out as his fingers bruise your hips, as his cock wrecks you. “Then come in me now.”

“Fuck…” He busts deep inside you, filling your womb so full of his milky seed, your orgasm right with his, perfectly in sync, whining into each other’s lips.

Once you’ve calmed, you realize tears are falling, he frowns when he sees them, you bury your face against his neck, letting them fall against his neck, while he holds you close.

“You will miss me, won’t you?” He whispers, brushing a hand down your spine, still nestled inside of you.

“A little.” He chuckles, but it’s full of his own emotions, his own fears. “If you don’t come back safe I’ll kill you.”

“But I’ll be dead? Ow! You’re cruel!” You smack his shoulder again, he grips your wrists, seeing your shimmery tears and sighing. “You care for me so deeply?”

“I must beat you at chess, croquet, and horse racing again… and…” You don’t say it, but he knows.

He kisses you, and then it’s quiet, save for your hearts racing.

He doesn’t want to leave.

*****

A month later

You’re very lonely during this time, you do have Miwa and Gojo’s mother, but Kiyotaka has gone with the Emperor… with Satoru. You hate how badly you wish for him to annoy you, your arguments and your games of chess, the hasty kisses and touches. Leaving you missing them, especially your husband who never leaves your thoughts, when you touch yourself lying under his thick blankets.

It’s just as he asked you to do, you play with your cunt at night picturing the moment he’s back on top of you, dripping on your own little fingers while aching for his much longer ones. You don’t have those same thoughts you did when you first got here, the hesitation and the longing for back home faded somewhat in the bliss that you shared with him.

Yet, you’re still so unsure what awaits you when Satoru returns.

It is the day he’s set to come back, and you’re preparing hastily as the carriages are approaching, word was his negotiations were very successful, and you just can’t wait to kiss him once more. It’s still new and terrifying, of course, you know that there’s a chance he will move on from you, and you’ll end up like his mother, alone and carrying yourself the best you can.

You’re not as mature as her though, it takes everything not to slap the girls around, who keep whispering and murmuring about you in the halls. None of them are so bold and stupid as Lola was, so they don’t dare to come outright and say it, but rumors abound as always, many of them unfounded and cruel.

I hear he’s found a new love abroad.

I heard he only spent the week with her as a courtesy.

Well, I heard he’s in love with the Empress!

So did I, I heard Kira’s maid say he’s not visited or written the concubines!

Perhaps he’s enamored with the Empress’ beauty?

It’s non stop as always, conflicting reports of who said what, but none of it truly matters. The letter Satoru wrote to you sits in the pockets of the kimono you’re wearing over one of your gowns, the mix of your culture back home and Satoru’s, something that’s another source of gossip, whether they find it fashionable or distasteful.

Satoru’s mother and Miwa wait side by side, while you all are out in the courtyard, and Gojo’s majestic carriage descends along the cobblestone, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel almost dizzy from the sunlight heating up your skin, your hair is hot as you touch it carefully, making sure Satoru’s pin is in its rightful place on your head.

“It’ll be fine,” Satoru’s mom murmurs, but she eyes the three concubines flitting ahead with distaste. “Don’t worry about them.”

“Right…” Miwa puts a hand on your shoulder carefully, while the bile rises in your throat, and they get to your husband before you do.

You’re an Empress, you can’t just run and flit over to him, you have the eyes of everyone upon you, thus you wait, a distance away, while they bombard the tall man stepping out. He frowns and stiffens as they go on, but you suppose he has his part to play too, so he gestures to Kiyotaka, who can’t hide his look of distaste on his features while he grabs gifts.

“Here, take them,” Satoru murmurs, Kiyotaka perfunctory handing each of the girls one wrapped in cerulean ribbon.

“It’s just standard, I am sure he did not even pick them,” Miwa murmurs, but you feel the tightening in your chest as he has to allow them their moments. “Do not fret, my Lady.”

“Indeed, look he’s staring right at you,” his mother says, trying to cheer you up. Satoru was looking at you, grinning for the first time, rushing past the giggling girls while they rush off to open all the things he got, Kiyotaka is carrying two other packs with him. “Here he comes, see?”

“How’d you handle it?” You turn and look up at her blue eyes, and she sighs, cupping your face gently with one gloved hand.

“He is not his father, he has eyes for you.” You swallow nervously, wanting to believe her. “It was not easy though, no. I am here for you, do not forget.”

“I know… I’m sorry…” You’re already emotional when Satoru snatches you up, hugging you tightly, you bury your face in his neck, allowing yourself a moment of relief. “Satoru… you’re here!”

“I’m safe and sound,” he’s grinning so brightly, but then frowns when he sees your face. “Are you worried for me? I promise I’m fine.”

“I’m so glad,” you take his hands, smiling tremulously, putting in the effort not to show how jealous you are. You don’t want to be this way, you cannot be this way in front of all these eyes, the attention he shows you is already far more than expected. “I may have missed you.”

“Just a bit?” He brushes a tear off your cheek.

“Just a little.”

“No kiss for your Mama?” Gojo leans over and kisses her cheek then, hugging her tightly. “We both missed you.”

“And I missed my ladies,” he teases, making you flush at that, at the open way he holds both of your hands. “Were you evil women up to no good?”

“Never! Is this for me, Ijichi?”

“Yes, Dowager Empress, and this is for you, my Lady.” Kiyotaka hands you both pretty little boxes, your fingers run over them carefully.

“I picked both of yours out, Kiytoka handled them,” he gestures dismissively, as if to reassure you more. “Mama, may I have a moment?”

“Go right ahead love birds,” she teases, and Satoru wraps a hand around your waist, gesturing his head. “I’ll see you both at the fair later?”

“Certainly,” he walks you a little away from prying eyes, until he’s tugging you quicker, under the shade of hanging cherry blossom trees, bringing you flush against his hard body. “Did you truly miss me, bratty empress?”

“The tiniest bit.” He moans, kissing you then, and all those doubts fade for a moment, with his lips on yours, pressing over and over again. You’re gasping, clinging to him, while he lifts you up. “Satoru…”

“Fuck I need you,” he’s whispering your name in your ear, pressing you against one of the trees, rough bark against that silk. “I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, have you ride me again.”

“Mnh… you still want that?” He pulls back, frowning now, lips glossy from you. His brows lower now.

“Why would you ask that nonsense?”

“It’s hard to know um, and… they were just… on you. They’ll keep doing it, and you’ll have to give them attention, and-”

Satoru glares. “Shut up.”

You glare right back. “What!?”

“I said, shut up.” He kisses you, angrier now, pressing you harder while he cups your face, and you bite his lip, earning his sharp gasp.

“Telling me to shut up!?”

“You think I want them?” He demands, whispering – the breath burning against your lips. You flush, looking down nervously. “You do, you’re that foolish.”

“They’ll always be here, and I understand, this is my role. They have theirs, but there’s not one moment I don’t want to hit those girls, and I hate that!” He sighs now, leaning low, his forehead on yours. “I’m not asking for more than you’re already giving me, I promise.”

“The only girl I want is here, scowling at me and biting my lips,” you take another breath, letting him tilt your chin up. “I’ll be in bed with you tonight, somewhere none of them have ever been. All right?”

You nod quickly, inhaling him then coughing. “Satoru, god you need to wash.”

“So mean! Cruel empress.” He’s laughing though, brightening your pretty face, the one he missed so badly he can’t think.

He’s thought of what to do with the concubines, but the couple of conversations he’s had were worthless. They’re all high ranking officials’ daughters, and the fact that he doesn’t lay with them alone is an issue, if he just gets rid of them and tradition he’ll face angering powerful allies.

He doesn’t know what to do yet.

He knows it’s hurting you, them around, which makes him feel fucking horrible, but at the moment he hopes giving you all the attention you deserve will suffice. “I will fuck you in front of them again, would that make you smile?”

“Satoru Gojo!” You shove him playfully, but he sees your cheeks decorate with the prettiest color.

“You’d love it,” his hand drifts to your tummy, lips pressed against your ear. “Think you’re already with child?”

“Not yet, um I just had my…”

“Monthlies? No need to be embarrassed,” you nod a little shyly at the topic. “Then it’s the perfect time to put more seed inside you, you’re fertile as ever.”

“You would know that, manwhore!” He’s just chuckling, even as you kiss him, falling into his arms, into his eyes, his lips. “Mnh, yes go bathe, and not with the whores please.”

“I shall bathe alone, will you join me at the festival?”

“Of course I will,” he’s about to leave when you tug on his wrist. “Satoru?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s good to have you back home.” The words spill before you can think, then you rush off, realizing it.

Home, you’d called it home.

Leaving Satoru with his mouth open, watching your retreating figure.

One he’s missed so badly.

*****

The dumb concubines are ruining damn near everything about your day back with Satoru.

It’s not for his lack of trying to be near you, it’s a well orchestrated plan to seperate you, as if all the maids and servants are fucking in on it. Dragging you and him this way and that, until you both desperately try to eye each other, with stalls everywhere, silks and jewels, herbs and perfumes filling your senses.

The festival is lively and packed, little stalls all over, dancers flitting around in their beautiful yukatas and their pretty fans. The air is just a little brisk, the perfect temperature, your tummy growls just a bit as they start feeding you delicious little treats everywhere you turn.

Come, your majesty!

Come try this wine!

Have this for free.

This would suit your majesty.

Soon you can’t even find Satoru in the fucking crowd, nervously looking left and right until you slam right into a heavy suit of armor, wincing.

“Ow shit!”

“I’m so sorry, my…” The man turns then, and your heart splits into a million fucking pieces when you see his face.

Sir Suguru Geto.

His amethyst eyes narrow, the sun gleaming off his silver armor, his hair long and silky, framing his face. Your heart is pounding in your chest, as a million memories of knowing him for most of your life surface all together. And the guilt of barely having thought of him in a month sinks in.

Was he here for you!?

Was it the fucking letter!?

You were too hasty, now you have fallen so hard for Satoru, your home has become a distant memory in such a short time. You don’t read his letters anymore before bed, now you read Satoru’s. You were disloyal to the memory of the man you swore you’d have a life with, the one you practically begged to take you first.

Was it truly so fleeting, were you terrible?

“Princess…” He seems as stunned as you then, clearing his throat while his eyes travel down your body, familiarly though he’d only seen you in pieces. His gloved fingers brush your cheek before you look nervously.

“Not here, there are many eyes on me,” you murmur, he looks around then takes your wrist, pulling you into a little alcove hidden, the shade cooler than the bright sun. He exhales, leaning low for a moment, as you whisper his name. “Suguru…”

“God, I never thought I’d look upon your face again,” he whispers, kissing you before you can stop him. “Mmm…” He’s moaning against your lips, hands pressing you closer against his armor.

Your eyes shut a moment, Satoru kissed girls literally in front of you.

He’s likely done more from the rumors, Miwa saying he licked on Lola even after the wedding… but something doesn’t feel all right about this, the mere brush of lips at first you allow, wondering then what this feeling was. The one that makes you want to pull away, even though his lips are plump, his scent is so familiar, his presence welcome and calming.

Why do you feel so guilty doing this?

Yet when Suguru moans into your lips, tongue swiping against the seam and earning your gasp, you pull away quickly, clearing your throat. He pauses then, stepping back and looking at you in confusion when you swipe the kiss off on the pad of your thumb. “Was I too forward? I just… was caught up.”

“No, I do not blame you at all! I…” He’s exhaling, broad shoulders making him seem even bigger in that armor, hovering over you.

“I have often envisioned kissing you once more, but I never thought it would happen.” He kisses you again, and this time you firmly pull back, turning your face, making him pause. “Do you not want my kisses any longer?’

The strain in his voice makes you hate yourself even more. “Sugu… it’s not that um…”

“You begged for them,” his voice is husky now, and suddenly you don’t feel comfortable, even though he is correct. “Has so much changed? Do you not remember saying even if you married you’d want me?”

“I did say it,” you blink rapidly, as the memories come back. Ones of his fingers so deep they almost hurt you, his teeth sinking into your neck, and you just promised anything that spilled from your lips. “Perhaps my words were too hasty.”

“So you moved on so quickly? Just like that?” You blink back hot tears, while he presses you against that cold stone wall. “Were your feelings that fleeting?”

He says everything that’s in your head.

“Suguru, it's not that… of course I still have feelings,” he cups your face, brushing a thumb over your now swollen lips. “But I cannot be disloyal to my husband.”

He laughs without humor, just a bit, shaking his head then. “It makes sense, you were always a pampered little thing, you wouldn't have been able to handle a knight's salary hmm?”

He's almost teasing you, but it feels like he truly believes it. Your heart is pounding in your chest, while Satoru’s words are ringing in your ears. You look to the side, the world is bustling, merchants from all over peddling the finest silks, jewelry, spices, and you see Satoru's snowy locks while he's just literally ignoring his last three concubines trying to clamor around him.

‘If I had been your precious Knight, nothing would have stopped me from taking you away. Not any threat of violence, because what's mine is mine only. Selfish reasons, nothing so chivalrous.’

“Can't keep your eyes off him,” you realize you're lost in thought now, peering back up at the man you had such feelings for. “Was I used as some amusement for a bored little princess then? Until she got her king – or emperor, I should say. Is that all any of this was?”

You gasp at that, you'd step back but you're literally against a wall, Suguru’s armored frame in front of you. “That's hateful of you.”

“Is it wrong?”

“It’s completely wrong! You know nothing of what I have been through…” You barely hold yourself back, anger, confusion, hurt all making you want to suffocate. “What are you doing here, is it the letter?”

His violet eyes narrow. “What letter?”

You blink now, of course he wouldn't have gotten it in time to have headed here so quickly. “Oh.”

“The letter you left me before they sent you here?” You nod, hoping that letter sinks into the fucking ocean now, stomach filling with dread at the thought of it. “Yes, I saw it, but no I'm here with an envoy and… I didn't know you were sent here, I’m not privy to such information.”

The hurt sinks deeper, as the memory you've been chasing falls apart at the seams. You had been his pursuer, you had always begged him for little kisses, for touches, all while he had been trying to be a loyal knight, and gave into your whims. You almost cannot breathe when his hand touches your waist, it should feel familiar but something feels off about it now.

“You didn't come here for me, then?” He sighs, lowering his head now.

“I did not, but it’s not as if I didn’t miss you, worry about you. Surely there’s a reason it happened…” his breath ghosts your lips now. “Will you let me see you, alone? Somewhere we can actually talk.”

“I don’t know if that’s wise.”

“I can keep my hands to myself, if that’s your concern.” You hear the anger hidden underneath his husky voice, you know how badly you’re hurting him without meaning to.

“It’s not that, I can't do that, do this,” you break away then, trembling when he grips you on your shoulders. “Suguru, if you loved me… why didn't you just run away with me?”

“What?” He blinks again, clear confusion on his handsome face, the two of you are still trapped in this dark alley, too close. “Would you expect me to get executed for you, more than I already was at risk?”

You suddenly feel foolish, selfish, wondering if you had indeed potentially put him in danger with your feelings. You shake your head now, the setting sun is casting shadows on a face you once felt was precious to you, the hard planes of it while his lips tense in a line. “No, I don't mean-”

“You're naive and illogical, every kiss was almost certain fucking death. Even now it is,” the tears fall now, he sighs, covering his face for a moment and shaking his head. “Princess, listen… this is all coming out wrong. I need time to explain my side of things.”

“Ah, it's my pretty empress,” Satoru's suddenly by your side, a hand on the small of your back, glaring at Suguru. You instinctively step to Satoru's side, realizing how familiar he’s gotten so quickly to you. “And you must be her most loyal knight.”

“He's not here for me, you don't need to hurt him,” you murmur softly. He hears it, the pain in your voice, even as you’re protecting him. He looks down at you, then to the man not cowering at all – he surely has audacity, Satoru will give him that – but clearly acknowledging the shitty situation he's in. “It's just a coincidence.”

“I see,” Satoru steps close to him then, standing in front of your field of vision, and Suguru just smirks at him. “I'll have you far, far away from her, is that understood?”

Suguru chuckles a bit then. “Threatened by me, a simple knight huh?” Satoru looks over at Ijichi then, who bows at him, and then taps your waist.

“Go with him, all right sweetheart?” You do as he says quickly, without another thought, dying to be as far away from Suguru as you can right now.

It’s not hatred, it’s hurt, it’s confusion. It’s wondering if everything you thought or knew ever existed, it’s wondering if you wasted time pining over a man who may have never given you a second thought. As Ijichi carefully takes your hand, you gaze back at the two men who have been in your dreams so fucking often now, right in front of each other.

Satoru’s stepping right to him, you can't hear what they're saying. Satoru could have accused you of being unfaithful just now in that position, had Suguru killed, the fact that neither happened further makes you believe the person he is. Even buried under layers of bravado and cockiness. Ijichi tugs you away, you look up at him when he's got you over to the carriage.

“Is he going to kill him?” You ask softly, Ijichi sighs then, helping you up the step.

“Not in public my Lady,” you curse under your breath now. “You stay here, please.”

“Not in public!?”

“I will be right back,” he says, you nod, head in your hands.

Ijichi leaves you with two guards, headed back over to make sure his Master does not need him, only to catch the end of the conversation between the men. “You know I could have had her first, right?”

Ijichi is furious that anyone would talk about his lady like that, and clearly the Emperor Satoru is too. He shoves him so hard against a wall, his armor clanging and echoing. “You don't fool me, honorable fucking knight. What a joke.”

“It makes you angry, doesn't it? Royalty, all the same, bored with your fucking games and using every common person as your entertainment.” Suguru sounds bitter, Satoru frowns then.

“You think she saw you as entertainment?” Suguru looks off as Satoru releases his hold. “You're a fucking idiot then, had the girl's head all twisted, and for what? You never cared about her.”

“You presume to know how or what I feel, Emperor? Don't you have a harem of girls to impregnate or something, isn't that what you do?” Satoru scoffs then, shaking his head, fingers itching to kill him.

“What she felt for you wasn't a game. She isn't like that,” Suguru raises a dark brow. Is he defending you to your former lover? Yes he is. “Leave her alone if you'd like to stay intact, unless you'd prefer to become a eunuch.”

Suguru chuckles, shoving past him then, and Satoru walks up to Ijichi, who has an unfamiliar scowl on his face. “Follow him, something is amiss with that knight.”

“Indeed, your majesty, she's in the carriage.” He bows and Satoru thanks him, climbing up to find you in tears, that necklace in your palm. He sighs, sitting next to you, wondering where your mind is, when you hand him the necklace you have in your pockets back carefully, hands shaking.

“I don't want this,” your whisper is broken, full of pain then. “I should have let you burn it.”

“You're just upset,” he murmurs, slipping it into his pocket. “Are you all right?”

“No,” you look at him then, hating the fact that you've actively pushed him away for a false memory, for jealousy. “Satoru I'll get over the concubines, I am sorry that I get so upset.”

“You don't have to-”

“I won’t bring it up anymore,” you’re sobbing against his chest, making the guilt of knowing their existence hurts you even deeper. “You’re trying, I want to try too.”

“You already are,” he whispers, stroking your back up and down. “I know it hurts you to see them near me, I just realized what that’s like when I saw him.”

“Well, they’re obsessed with you, at least. He never loved me.”

“You can’t know that, he’s clearly just hurt that you’re with me,” he shouldn’t be defending Suguru to you, but the pain in your voice breaks him. “I’d be pretty mad if you moved on from me, you know.”

“He never did, it was me, I hope it’s not repeating,” you’re trembling violently, sniffling against his chest, soaking the silk material. “What if I’m not enough for you either?”

“Hush your nonsense.” He orders quietly, cupping your face and swiping your tears. “Where’s my conceited empress?”

“Gone.” Satoru swallows down heavy emotions, hating the words that spill from your lips. “I am not enough to be the only, it’s not your fault though. It wasn’t Suguru’s fault, I’m just expecting more than I should.”

“You’re not…”

“He kissed me.” Satoru scowls now, sick to his stomach at the thought. “I told him not to.”

“You did?” He asks softly, you nod then. “After missing him that much, being in love with him, you pulled away? Even when you saw me kiss?”

“It felt disloyal, terrible… I know you kissed um… them…” You’re swiping the tears off your cheeks now, as he feels it like a knife to his chest.

You had the man you love there and you turned him down, yet Satoru had licked right up Lola’s thigh, no he hadn’t carried it further, but how could he have done even that now that he thinks upon it. No, you both were not fully intimate yet, but he didn’t even try to hide it at first, kissing them in front of you before the wedding, then that game of chess where they’d just crawled up on his lap.

You give him utter loyalty and he gives half measures.

“I don’t know how you did, or how you will in the future, I can’t figure that out at all…” You whisper, shaking your head then. “It’s not to down you, I guess I cannot have feelings for two people at once, even physically.”

“It’s only you now,” he can tell you’re doubting it, he can feel the hesitance in your body against him. “He kissed you, did he?”

“Yes…” You gasp when Satoru slams his lips on yours, mean and brutal, before turning and pressing you down on the carriage seat, slipping up your robes and kneeling down between your thighs. “Satoru, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to make you forget about your stupid little knight,” he eyes you under his lashes, anger emanating from him at the thought of anyone near you. “Lift up your robes for me, now.”

Kofi link if you wanna buy me a dish of sake

don't let the cuteness fool you lol <3 Hope you all enjoyed I'm excited to see your thoughts!

taglist 1 - @kimkimoruo @dazed-lavender @kitchen-cryptid @labelt-san @enyathedrakaina @astrasworldsblog @7thsthings @kitassecretgf @heavenlystarstruck @gh0stgirl333 @wisepeachwitch @jeankirschteinsimp @mochii-13 @gojom0jo @liasacountgothacked @ic-slxt @lumilarity @unwillingstars @cl3xr @duooy @jo-potter1 @tojicidal @captainsarcasmandsass @plimplimmeiododoi @riddhimabhatt @cinnamonpinktea @ravenbc @nienieeeeeeee @ihateexistence @yesdere @p1nkfl0wers @luvsymai @yihona-san06 @mysticranger575 @bunn1o @aldebrana @trishiepo0 @altyx @dyedscarletletter @vinsushi @crazyartist0001-blog @kitty-yaps @lnette04 @kindasortafairytale @yasmin-oviedo @lvc-lv @ashlantismorning @babychickenscareme

3K notes · View notes

miajooz · 3 months ago

Text

Crimson Tongue ♰

overview ♰ You’re on your period, struggling with cramps that could only be described as torturous. Your vampire girlfriend, Ellie, insists on helping. Orgasms can relieve cramps, after all. Plus, what kind of vampire would miss a chance for a taste of blood.

warnings ♰ Period sex, blood play..?, cunnilingus (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), overstimulation, worshipping kink if you squint! — Not entirely sure, this shit is kind of gross but you get it! (gross and sexy)

wc ♰ 3.5k

“Baby, let me help.” Your girlfriend tired to coax you, voice soft and loving. You had been curled up in a ball for what felt like hours, the continual, throbbing pain in your uterus rendering you unable to even move. Pain like a blade to a ribbon, a pain that occasionally faded but never actually left. There were moments where you just cried and let Ellie hold you and rub your back.

But you knew her wandering eyes. You could practically feel her eyes on you. Of course Ellie had a blood fixation, she was a vampire. And the taste of your blood was her favorite, it was addictive in a way a human likes wine. There were similarities, of course, that velvet red color and the thick, appealing way it slides down your throat. But blood was more intimate, it came from you.

Ellie looked forward to your period, because of course she got your blood. But the fact it was from your pussy was what made it special, what made it taste so much better. Or in her vampiric opinion, sweeter.

She lovingly rubbed your skin, looking at you sweetly even though your eyes were squeezed shut. Ellie would run her hands along your thighs, adoring the way you leaned into the cold touch of her fingers. The sight of you below her was making her lose it, she needed this.

And you needed it too.

“I’ll be so good to you, so careful.” she’d usually whisper to you, gently caressing your skin. This time was no different. “Plus, I want to help you.”

Ellie loved eating you out on your period. She could spend eternity between those thighs, licking up the sweet blood she would lap at like it was nectar, like a sugar she couldn’t bear to lose. Not to mention how it felt to be the thing that could give you relief through your pain. The way you’d sigh in relief and just want to cuddle afterwards was her favorite thing.

So here she was, begging to help you.

“You’ll feel so much better, I promise.” she mumbled against your neck, kissing the flesh softly. It was amazing the self control she had, what kind of vampire kissed a neck instead of biting it? Though, you could feel the shutter of her breath when she came close. When she could practically smell the blood flowing through your veins. The way she’d hold you tighter when she felt your pulse against her chapped lips.

You let out some sort of groan, in pain but also in a state of self conflict. Of course you wanted this, but it was hard to do much of anything in a state like that. You opened your eyes, still on top of Ellie. Unfortunately for you, her body wasn’t exactly warm—she wasn’t exactly a heating pad. But it was loving, the way her pale hands caressed the flesh of your thighs, the way those blood-red eyes of hers looked at you with worry and adoration—it definitely coaxed you.

“Just let me help you, pretty. I’ll fucking heal you. Just ask me.” she husked, eyes convincing and sultry in a way. Sultry in the way that made you unable to look away. It also didn’t help that she purposely dropped her voice. “I can’t stand seeing my pretty girl in pain.”

You looked at her for a moment, admiring her features and the way her fangs rested softly on her lips. “Help me, Ellie.” you pleaded, just wanting the pain to go away for even a moment. But also—who were you to deny a chance at getting eaten out? Especially on your period, not many girls are that lucky.

Ellie smiled softly, lopsided but perfect in her own way. “Of course, baby. All you had to do was ask.” The way one fang stuck out more than the other was so appealing and adorable. She shifted her grip on you, grabbing your hips and lifting you a bit so she could place you on your back against the pillows.

You groaned at the movement, to which Ellie immediately tried to fix. “Shh, I’ve got you. You’re okay, I’ll make it better.” she whispered purposefully, running her fingers through your hair, “Be a good girl and stay still, yeah? I’ll do everything for you.”

Your head bobbled softly in response, eyes locked on her piercing, red ones. It was easy to get lost in them. They had a way of capturing attention and keeping it—they always worked on you.

Ellie just smiled and kissed your cheek, though she couldn’t help but kiss your lips too. The kiss was gentle at first, as she tried to warm you up and coax you into the moment. Your lips molded together perfectly, her fangs scraping your teeth—something you were used to but somehow loved.

Ellie sighed into your mouth, like she was expressing the words she didn’t know how to say. Something in the kiss shifted—you felt a sharp pain on your bottom lip, a metallic taste overcoming whatever else you had on your tastebuds. The familiar, lovely taste filled Ellie’s mouth, making her kiss you harder and with even more desperation. You winced, feeling the new scratch on your lip being bumped against her tongue and her own lips. But it was so good, at least you were having a good kind of pain now.

This lasted for awhile, her tongue licking all the blood away and continuing to kiss you. As if she was savoring something, trying to keep that taste when your tongues swirled together passionately. Eventually she started kissing down your cheek and jawline—soon enough she was buried in your neck. Soft, purposeful kisses were planted there, marks blooming like pinkish flowers when she’d scrape her teeth against your flesh.

You just held the back of her head and sighed, adrenaline shooting through your body whenever her fangs would scrape over your pulse. The small vibration of it against her lips made her groan, resulting in her sticking her tongue out and licking up the area—as if she was licking your heart from the outside. The muscles in her tongue twitched against your pulse, making you both moan.

Ellie needed that blood, she needed to taste you. All of you.

“Sweetest skin I’ve ever tasted. My perfect girl.” she praised, as you just laid there and let her treat you like some sort of treat.

Your tried to smile, but the throbbing pain in your abdomen couldn’t be ignored anymore. Ellie immediately noticed and frowned a bit, kissing your neck softly but moving up to your ear. her fangs brushed against your ear, causing some sort of squeak to be pulled out of you. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re in pain, I’ll get there.”

She then went back to your neck, but hesitated.

Ellie managed to peel herself away from your neck, eyes trained on your flushed cheeks. A smile crossed her features, fangs on display like they were ready for something. It was just a subtle thing, but so unbelievably sexy.

Ellie’s hands slid down your body, stopping the waistband of your shorts. One hand wandered up your shirt, her cold hands caressing your skin softly and making you shiver in response. She traced those forming goosebumps with her fingertips, nails dragging along your flesh. But you knew she wouldn’t hurt you.

Her other hand was still on the waistband of your shorts. Ellie patted your front and looked at you, “lift your hips for me, sweetheart.” she murmured, helping you work your shorts off and slide your panties down a bit. The hand under your shirt cupped your left breast, kneading it softly since she knew they were a bit tender from your cycle. Her cold thumb rolled over your nipple, causing you to shudder and squirm again.

Ellie smiled in amusement, or maybe pride. “Careful, baby.” she simply commented, waning you to stay still so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty doll.” she rolled her thumb over your nipple again, holding it there and pressing down. She leaned in close so she could hear every little sound you made for her.

When her thumb left your nipple, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding on. Though it was more of a moan than anything. You listened to her sweet words and appreciated all her touchy mannerisms—very typical for her.

“What’s with all the praise, huh? Are you worshipping me or something?” you asked lightheartedly, watching the way her harsh looking eyes softened at your face. You reached down a bit, cupping her cheek.

Ellie leaned into the touch, fangs as prominent as always. Her pale, veiny hands grabbed your wrist with such gentleness it was as if she thought you were something fragile. To her, you definitely were. “I could worship you all day, baby.” she said, kissing the inside of your wrist before pulling away from your touch.

You laughed, your cramps making you wince. “Oh? Maybe I’d like that.” you joked, eyes trained on every little movement.

“I would spend my whole life worshipping at the altar if it was your body.” she said while shifting her position. She scooted down the bed, getting into a position closer to where you needed her—to where she needed to be. Ellie grabbed the band of your panties again, actually pulling them all the way off this time. She didn’t even spare them a glance, her red eyes were immediately trained on the crimson of your pussy.

You’d be able to see the reflection in her eyes if they weren’t already blood-red.

Ellie groaned at the sight, biting the inside of her lip softly. “Fuck, look at that pretty pussy.” she rasped, sharp nails tracing the edges of your thighs. “You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. I’m so lucky.” She looked up at you briefly and smiled, pushing your legs slightly closer to your chest.

She was practically drooling now, and you were beyond embarrassed. You’ve done this countless times with her, but it took a bit of getting used to.

Ellie kissed down your thighs softly, peppering love and warmth down your flesh. When she was on your inner thigh, she let her fangs scrape you softly. You shivered—not because it hurt, but because there was so much adrenaline involved. She was so close now, your hole clenched around nothing pathetically.

That was noticed almost too quickly. Ellie stared at the blood soaking your cunt—her pupils visibly dilated. Her lips curled into a small smile, looking up at you as she licked a long strip up your pussy.

She kept eye contact the whole time, making sure you were watching her. Making sure you were fully aware of what she was going to do to you.

You immediately squirmed and gasped, abdomen clenching and your lungs feeling like they were squeezed tightly. That look in her eye always got you, so full of ideas and sin. The way she gripped your thighs tightly to keep you still, the way she looked at you like something breathtaking, the way she moaned when she tasted your blood as if she was receiving—it was all too much.

“Tastes so fucking good, baby. You always taste so good.” she groaned, kitty licking your pussy again and letting the metallic taste engulf her taste buds with adoration and yearning. Yearning in the way she had been waiting a month for this again.

“I’d keep my tongue stuffed in your pussy for hours if you’d let me. Make you cum so many times you’d be numb to those cramps.”

“I could worship you forever, darling. Until I’m out of words and breath.”

You just moaned and listened, letting her lap at your bloody pussy like a fucking dog. It felt so unbelievably good, absolutely heavenly. She was also so careful too, making sure to keep her fangs away. The blood was like an elixir to her—something she needed, something she craved, something that fueled her.

Ellie’s lips enclosed around your clit, tongue swirling around the bud favorably and sucking on it like a succulent fruit. It looked like she was indulging in a berry from above—but that was far from it. Before you could process, her tongue was prodding at your wet hole—her saliva mixing with the arousal and blood drenching your cunt.

“S-shit! Els!” you immediately whined, her tongue pressing down to get you going. The pleasure was building the more she played with you like that, the more her tongue had its way with you. Then she finally slipped her tongue inside your waiting hole, deep, velvet dripping down her chin. She was in heaven, flicking and thrashing her tongue around—desperately emptying you of your vital juices like a starved woman.

Well, starved vampire.

Your fingers curler into her auburn hair softly, pushing her head a bit closer. Ellie’s nose bumped against your clit in response to your desperate handling, making your breath shudder and your thighs tremble. The way she was eating you out was downright filthy. Blood was seeping onto the sheets, down her chin, coating her lips, all of it. Though, now that she had her tongue inside you—it was all going to her hungry, greedy mouth.

Ellie continued with her tongue, moving the muscle unfairly fast. She reveled in the way you whined. You were a mess, eyes rolling back and jaw wedged open by pure sin and lust. “Please, I can’t take it!” you cried, knowing good and well you didn’t want her to stop. She was going to pull away to be more gentle with you—but you just pushed her head back.

You could feel her smiling against you, tongue curling in a way you weren’t ready for when she did so. It was constantly flicking against your g-spot and making you squirm—you couldn’t help it. Weak moans left you, which was embarrassing because she was too busy devouring you to talk you through it.

Ellie pulled her tongue out of your hole, a short laugh echoing between your thighs when she heard the squelch. She licked an unfair amount of blood off her lips, sucking on her own tongue inside her mouth to savor the iron-like taste gracing her tastebuds. But it was no use, she just licked you again.

But then you felt it.

Her breath fanning your inner thigh, right by your cunt. Ellie’s tongue drew a heart on your flesh—with your own blood. You immediately let out some sort of weak noise, the feeling and idea making your head spin. More so when she just licked your skin clean of the little drawing she made—erasing it and taking the blood back like it was hers.

“Fucking heavenly like always, baby. I just wanna eat you whole.” she husked, looking at your partially “clean” cunt.

But she wasn’t done.

Ellie let her right hand leave your thigh, middle finger dragging along your slit—her eyes were trained on the way the cherry color collected on the tip. It was funny, actually—how the only short nails Ellie had were her ring and middle finger. Always in preparation!

Without warning, her middle finger was splitting your folds apart impatiently, before pushing into your sopping hole where her tongue previously imprinted. You simply bucked your hips up, softly since you didn’t want to make your cramps bad again. She moved her finger in and out, her mouth nearby to collect any blood that seeped out.

A smile crossed your girlfriend’s features, fangs almost brushing against your cunt in a way that made you squeal anxiously. Ellie smiled again, “I know baby, give it to me.” she husked, red eyes watching the peek she got of her blood covered fingers whenever she’d pull out.

Ellie then pulled out most of the way, stretching your pussy a bit to accommodate her other finger. She then fucked both fingers into you, ears waiting in anticipation for you to cry out and moan—any sound she could get.

And you did, a high pitch noise leaving you from both surprise and the feeling of all the sensitive nerves inside you being played with—fingers kissing your insides sensibly. She didn’t even give you a chance, immediately curling her fingers and trying to find the spot she did with her tongue earlier.

“You can take it, pretty. Come on, open up for me.” she coaxed, tongue finding its way towards your clit. To say you were overwhelmed was an understatement. The feeling of her fingers fucking into you and her tongue lapping at your clit had your whole body fluttering. It felt as if she was rewiring something with every thrust of her finger, every little twitch of the muscles in her tongue.

There were filthy mixing together. The sloshy sounds of your blood and arousal, your moaning and heavy breathing, Ellie’s words—all of it was too much. And you just took it.

“I-I can’t! Fuck, Els!” you cried, stumbling over your words. You were a moaning mess, her fingers dragging along the walls of your cunt with unfair, calculated movements. Ellie’s fingers were coated in blood, she was practically foaming at the mouth as she tried to resist the urge to clean them off immediately.

No, she had to wait.

So, she continued fucking you with her fingers, the pace she set leaving you hazy and breathless. Her tongue sucking softly on your clit simultaneously, making you shudder and squirm. It was difficult to stay still like this. You were starting to breathe heavier, your orgasm practically speeding towards you.

“Squeezing my fingers so fucking tight, are you close baby?” Ellie asked, not changing the pace at all and pulling away from your clit with a pop to speak to you. She also wanted to get a better look at your fucked out face. Your cheeks were flushed, forehead covered in a sheet of sweat, eyes bobbling to stay forward, and your lips parted.

Ellie loved it, she groaned at the sight and bit her lip so hard it started to bleed. “Can you say please for me, baby?”

You nodded feverishly, hips bucking up. “Please, please. I’m so close. I just wanna cum!” you pleaded—begging her to let you finish just like she asked you to. You figured it would be easier to get your way if you did that.

Ellie smiled again, tongue sticking out to lick your clit a few times before pulling away again. “Yeah? You wanna cum? Go on, cum for me, doll. Wanna feel it all over my fingers.” she murmured, red eyes practically fucking you as if her fingers weren’t already doing the job. “Such a good girl, come on. Give it to me.”

You were done for, your orgasm hitting you hard. Hard in the way that made every thought in your head vanish. “Shit, shit, shit! Ellie!” you practically chanted, a strangled, higher pitched moan clawing its way out of your throat like something you had been holding in for years. Your head fell back against the pillows, your eyes rolled back as if they were searching for any remaining thoughts—all of that.

Ellie helped you ride it out, fingers moving progressively slower. When you were limp and twitching, she pulled her fingers out. They were coated in blood, the usual paleness of her skin unrecognizable. But she looked absolutely mesmerized, her pupils zeroing in on the sight. Though, she was quick to look away, her attention on your pussy again. Blood and whatever else she pulled out of you was waiting for her.

Waiting for her to clean up.

“Oh, baby. Look at that.” she groaned, lowering her hungry mouth closer to your fucked out pussy again. You were oblivious, until she stared licking you again. You squealed and squirmed, fingers digging into her hair. You were still so sensitive, the feeling of her tongue returning to devour you making you feel incredibly overstimulated.

“Ellie, Ellie! G-give me a second, please! I can’t!” you pleaded, but you pushed her head closer again. Tears welled up in your eyes, thighs closing and squeezing around her head as she licked you clean. She was lapping up all the blood and arousal that she could, thrusting her tongue in to dig for more. To coax whatever she could out of you until you were fucking empty.

Eventually, Ellie pulled away. Blood was dripping all down her chin, but she ignored it. She turned her attention back to her fingers, popping them into her mouth and making sure you were watching. She sucked them clean, tongue swirling around them as if there was a lolipop in her mouth.

This was better for her, your blood was the best thing for her.

Ellie pulled her fingers out of her mouth with a pop, hand coming down to slap your pussy. Whatever blood was left splattered a bit, you cried out and arched up—but she was satisfied. “Sorry baby, you just taste so good.” she mumbled, clean hand moving up to cup your cheek. “Do you feel better? Are those cramps better now?”

You just bobbed your head weakly, leaning into her touch as her thumb wiped your tears away. Ellie smiled at this and nodded back, fangs in resting on her bloody lips.

“Let me run you a warm bath, okay? You just stay put.”

a/n - sorry if this is bad, i’m new to this writing concept. not exactly proud but i hope you enjoy.

tags!! <333 @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @hyperbabes @usuck @haithone @yunaversalluv @smaugayra @andiemiaswife

#wlw #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams imagine #tlou part 2 #ellie x fem reader #wlw love #ellie x you #ellie x reader #ellie imagines #ellie smut #ellie williams smut

1K notes · View notes

trulyumai · 9 months ago

Text

to love an emperor

—: pairing - caracalla / wife! reader

—: synopsis - Caracalla the disastrous, caracalla the mighty. thousands would cower down and pray in fear of such a man, but you? you offered love and kisses upon the head.

—: warnings - none. pure fluff for the soul.

—: an - is it a little off character? oh yeah. but the man needs more soft love and I am here to provide.

not everyday was caracalla affectionate. he was moody sometimes— angry at you even when someone else had provoked him.

but tonight?

tonight he couldn’t stop adoring you; you had no idea what had gotten into him. caracalla was never this affectionate, at least without jealousy or a beverage involved.

“do you love me?” the man mumbled, it was muffled against your skin. his breath was warm and sticking to you without delay. “of course,” you hummed, slipping fingers into the crown of his head, gently guiding your fingers through the soft and messy locks.

instantly Caracalla folded, the candlelight bounced of his face and illuminated each shadow and crevice with purpose. he was handsome, you certainly couldn’t deny such a fact. his eyes were soft, a light pink and red hue danced around his eyelids as the rest of his skin lay pale and untouched.

his lips were a little chapped, proof of him picking and biting them after todays timeline

“—you?”

Perking up, your mind cleared. You hadn’t even realized you spaced out until the jumbles of his words came to.

“I’m sorry, my love, what was that?”

the man beside you shuddered at such an endearment. He felt so warm, so comfortable in your presence.

“I said, do you know I love you?” Letting out a quiet snicker, a nod was given. “of course, I see it in your eyes, husband.”

Caracalla frowned, confusion blotted his features. “My… eyes?”

Soft fingers glided against his cheek, to which he leaned into trustingly. A thumb traced the underside of his eye, gently tracing random shapes and letters unconsciously.

“Mmh, you look at me the way Dondus looks at his snacks, my love.”

He couldn’t help but let out a bubble of laughter. wrinkles began to form around his eyes from such a joyous action, however his vision never faltered from admiring your blushing face. “I’m serious! You— you do!”

“Angel, what an odd way of phrasing such a thing!” Joining him in the barrage of giggles, you slumped onto him, digging your chin into the crevice of his neck.

“You’re not much of a poet, even I could have thought of better,”

You gasped, with hands now holding you upright on his chest a mischievous glint was caught in Caracallas eyes. “You jest, husband, surely. I’m more of a poet than you could ever be!”

“Oh?” The emperor challenged. Already taking advantage of this new position, both arms wrapped around your waist, prohibiting you from moving even an inch away.

“Mhm! Don’t you remember the last full moon? The festivities— the worshipping I gave—,”

A big, warm hand stopped you from going further, covering the entirety of your mouth and a giggle burst against the skin.

“I am more than aware of such a night, quiet it down before someone hears you.”

Although the walls were thick, and no one would ever think of disturbing such high power; there was celebration below, citizens from far and near joined in tonight’s merriment and Caracalla didn’t need anyone hearing of such a frivolous act between the two of you.

Feeling particularly bold, a light nibble was given to the man. Startled by such a sharp pain, the hand was removed and you were (temporarily), free to do as you pleased. Not sparing even a moment, your lips brushed against Caracallas ear with mischievous purpose. “Don’t you want them to know im yours? Have me scream your name in pleasure—“

“Careful,” The ginger seethed, already shuffling uncomfortably under you. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, wife.”

“And who said I couldn’t finish, husband?” Suddenly, a grip was bestowed onto the back of your neck, pushing you forward until your soft lips collided with rougher ones.

Submitting into him, you allowed the pushing and shoving of his tongue, the way his hands pulled at your robes and squeezed each open crevice of skin they could find.

Caracalla quickly pulled back, a string of saliva followed suit and a dazed— hungry look was swimming in his vision.

“Angel?”

Your hands shakily moved across his form, undoing and untying his garments haphazardly.

A wet hum left you, you were so busy with the action you failed to notice his eyes upon you.

And how in love the man looked, felt while beside your side.

His eyes, half lidded and flooded with affection never faltered.

The way you looked in the moonlight, how the silk you were wearing was slowly dragging down your shoulders messily.

Your braids were undone, pulled in every which way from Caracallas hands—and your face?

Gods, there was a reason he called you angel.

No one looked as beautiful as you, and he doubted such a being ever would.

“I love you,” finally the words left him— shoved their way out like spilled wine upon cobblestone.

You smiled, big and wide.

“and I you, my love.”

#fluff #x reader #fanfiction #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor caracalla x you #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla #caracalla #caracalla x you #caracalla x reader #gladiator x reader #gladiator #movie #fiction

2K notes · View notes

literaryvein-reblogs · 9 months ago

Text

Writing Notes: Herbal Remedies

References (Capsules & Powders; Compresses & Lotions; Creams; Decoctions; Infused Oils; Infusions; Ointments; Poultices; Syrups; Tinctures; Tonic Wines; Other Preparations)

CAPSULES & POWDERS

Powdered herbs are most easily taken as capsules but can be sprinkled on food or taken with water.

Externally, they can be applied as a dusting powder to the skin or mixed with tinctures as a poultice.

COMPRESSES & LOTIONS

Lotions are water-based herbal preparations such as infusions, decoctions, or diluted tinctures that are used to bathe inflamed or irritated skin.

Compresses are cloths soaked in a lotion and held against the skin.

Both are simple ways to use herbs externally and can be very effective in relieving swelling, bruising, and pain, soothing inflammation and headaches, and cooling fevers.

CREAMS

Making a cream involves combining oil or fat and water in an emulsion. If the process is rushed, the oil and water may separate.

Unlike ointments, creams blend with the skin and have the advantage of being cooling and soothing while at the same time allowing the skin to breathe and sweat naturally.

They can, however, deteriorate quite quickly and are best stored in dark, airtight jars in a refrigerator.

DECOCTIONS

Roots, bark, twigs, and berries usually require a more forceful treatment than leaves or flowers to extract their medicinal constituents. A decoction involves simmering these tougher parts in boiling water.

Fresh or dried plant material may be used and should be cut or broken into small pieces before decocting. Like infusions, decoctions can be taken hot or cold.

INFUSED OILS

Infusing an herb in oil allows its active, fat-soluble ingredients to be extracted; hot infused oils are simmered, while cold infused oils are heated naturally by the sun.

Both types of oil can be used externally as massage oils or added to creams and ointments.

Infused oil should not be confused with essential oil, which is an active constituent naturally present in a plant and has specific medicinal properties and a distinct aroma.

Essential oil may be added to an infused oil to increase its medicinal efficacy

INFUSIONS

An infusion is the simplest way to prepare the more delicate aerial parts of plants, especially leaves and flowers, for use as a medicine or as a revitalizing or relaxing drink.

It is made in a similar way to tea, using either a single herb or a combination of herbs, and may be drunk hot or cold.

OINTMENTS

Ointments contain oils or fats heated with herbs and, unlike creams, contain no water. As a result, ointments form a separate layer on the surface of the skin.

They protect against injury or inflammation of damaged skin and carry active medicinal constituents, such as essential oils, to the affected area.

Useful in conditions such as hemorrhoids or where protection is needed from moisture, as in chapped lips and diaper rash.

POULTICES

A poultice is a mixture of fresh, dried, or powdered herbs that is applied to an affected area.

Used to ease nerve or muscle pains, sprains, or broken bones, and to draw pus from infected wounds, ulcers, or boils.

SYRUPS

Honey and unrefined sugar are effective preservatives.

Can be combined with infusions or decoctions to make syrups and cordials.

They have the additional benefit of having a soothing action, and therefore make a perfect vehicle for cough mixtures as well as relieving sore throats.

With their sweet taste, syrups can disguise the taste of unpalatable herbs and are therefore greatly appreciated by children.

TINCTURES

Tinctures are made by soaking an herb in alcohol. This encourages the active plant constituents to dissolve, giving tinctures a relatively stronger action than infusions or decoctions.

They are convenient to use and last up to 2 years.

Tinctures can be made using a jug and a jelly bag, instead of a wine press. Although mainly used in European, American, and Australian herbal medicine, tinctures play a part in most herbal traditions.

TONIC WINES

Tonic wines are an agreeable way to take strengthening and tonic herbs to increase vitality and improve digestion.

Neither strictly medicinal, nor simply appealing to the palate, they are easy to prepare at home.

Made by steeping tonic herbs in red or white wine for several weeks.

OTHER PREPARATIONS

Steam Inhalations

Steam inhalations are an effective way to clear congestion and relieve sinusitis, hay fever, and bronchial asthma.

The combination of steam and antiseptic ingredients clears the airways throughout the respiratory system.

Gargles & Mouthwashes

Gargles and mouthwashes usually contain astringent herbs, which tighten the mucous membranes of the mouth and throat.

As gargles and mouthwashes are made from infusions, decoctions, or diluted tinctures, they can generally be swallowed for internal treatment. Ensure you do not exceed the daily internal dose of an herb.

Pessaries & Suppositories

Pessaries and suppositories are waxy pellets containing essential oil or fine powder.

They are used when oral medicine is likely to be broken down during digestion before reaching its intended site.

Pessaries are inserted into the vagina and suppositories into the anus, where they melt at body temperature.

The herb is quickly absorbed into the bloodstream, providing fast relief. It is best to buy ready-made suppositories.

Essential Oils

Essential oils can be used in massage to soothe minor aches and pains.

Before use, they should be diluted with a carrier oil as they can irritate the skin.

Essential oils deteriorate rapidly after dilution, so it is best to mix small quantities as you need them.

Baths & Skin Washes

Herbal baths and skin washes can relieve many conditions, including aching limbs and stuffy sinuses.

They are made from diluted essential oils or infusions.

Eyebaths soothe sore, inflamed, or irritated eyes.

Cold Macerations

Heat destroys the active constituents of some herbs.

Thus, a cold maceration might be more appropriate than a decoction.

Juices

The juices extracted from many herbs.

Can be taken internally or applied externally.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#medicinal herbs #writing reference #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #literature #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #poets on tumblr #poetry #creative writing #fiction #writing inspiration #writing ideas #light academia #writing resources

2K notes · View notes

writesvani · 2 months ago

Text

전정국 | 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 — O1

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Barcelona’s streets are full of legends — but none quite like Jungkook, the soccer prodigy who’s taken the city by storm.

You’re the ultimate nepo baby with a sharp tongue and a knack for making everyone question how you got here. He’s the cocky soccer star who’s determined to prove you’re more style than substance. You’re sarcastic, entitled, and completely self-aware; he’s loud, extroverted, and impossible to ignore.

Together, you clash like two unstoppable forces—witty insults flying, chemistry crackling, and a rivalry that no one saw coming.

So go ahead—try to keep your cool. But be warned: in Barcelona, the only thing hotter than the summer sun is the mess you’re about to get tangled in.

brother's best friend, enemies to lovers, sports romance

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: soccer!player jungkook × nepo!baby y/n

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: alcohol, hangover symptoms, public scandal, gossip, mild sexual innuendo, anxiety mentions, explicit language

ʟɪɴᴇᴠᴇʀsᴇ ɢᴜɪᴅᴇ

ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʟɪɴᴇ (ᴛᴀᴇ'ꜱ sᴛᴏʀʏ) @jungkoode

✦ ․ ˚ ݁⠀⠀․ ＃ series masterlist | taglist link

next chapter . ` ＃ ․ ˚ ݁⠀⠀․ ✦

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: sᴘɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ

＃ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5,8k ＃ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ: 9th of July 2O25

ᴀɴ: okay hi besties. welcome to the first chap of jungkook’s lineverse story??? i’m losing my mind. kiki and i have been texting like absolute crackheads trying to piece the lineverse together so y’all can catch lil crumbs both in my fic and hers. we’ve been working day and night. i have seen the sun rise way too many times. my neurons are on strike. but i hope y’all are gonna vibe with this cuz i’m currently hyperfixated to the point of no return.

ANYWAY, note goal for this is 500 notes bc i literally never know how to set note goals when i start new fics lmao.

also make sure to check kiki’s fic out on her account @jungkoode (she’s writing tae’s story in the lineverse) cuz it’s pure ✨chaos✨ and we’re in our silly little shared universe era. she'll be posting chap 1 in a few days. love you BYEEEEEE <3

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

God, you hate Saturdays.

See, Friday nights? Those are magic. Friday nights are Belvedere splashing into lemon soda, reggaeton pulsing so loud it rattles your ribcage. They’re sweaty bodies pressed too close, strangers’ faces swirling in neon lights — people you swear you adored, though honestly, it was probably just the vodka talking. Friday nights are you screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs until you forget your own damn name.

But Saturday mornings?

They’re a whole different beast. Saturdays are punishment. Saturdays are for the strong — and you, apparently, are not among them.

Because right now, every twitch of your body sends shockwaves of pain through your skull. Your brain’s wrapped in cotton and static. The room tilts if you dare turn your head. Your mouth feels like sandpaper, your throat raw as if you’ve swallowed broken glass. And you’re so dehydrated, you’d trade your soul for a cold bottle of water.

Saturdays suck.

You somehow peel yourself out of bed, even though every movement feels like stepping onto a minefield primed to blow your skull into tiny confetti.

You stagger toward the kitchen, groggy and half-blind, cursing the universe because each step is pure torture.

Never drinking again? Yeah, sure. Noted. Definitely lying? Also noted.

Right now, your entire existence has narrowed down to one mission: reach the kitchen. Because if you don’t get water into your body as soon as possible, you’re either going to cry, keel over from dehydration, or experience some tragic in-between state.

Saturdays definitely suck — you confirm that fact all over again the moment your bleary eyes land on the sight waiting in your kitchen.

There he is. Jeon Jungkook.

Sitting sprawled on a barstool like he owns the damn place, one tattooed arm draped across the counter, eyes glued to his phone while he casually shovels spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth with the other.

“Damn, you look like shit.”

Jungkook barely lifts his gaze from his phone, like insulting you is just casual conversation.

Okay, sure. You’re a mess right now. But it’s not your worst look — and he’s got some nerve.

“And you look like you just broke into my house.”

“You mean Dani’s house?”

“Same thing, Jeon.”

“Not really. But if it helps you sleep at night…”

“What would actually help me sleep is not seeing your face at—” you check your phone, groaning, “—ten a.m. Get out.”

He smirks, leaning back on the stool. “Why? Afraid you’ll start finding me irresistible this early in the day?”

“You wish. Leave.”

“First of all,” Jungkook says, finally tossing his phone onto the counter. He crosses his arms, rolling his shoulders like he’s prepping for a brawl. “That’s so rude. Second, I’m waiting for Dani, so you can’t just kick me out.”

“Okaaay,” you drawl, sweeping past him to the fridge. You fling it open and start rifling through shelves like a raccoon hunting for snacks.

Ah. Jackpot. Cold water.

“I’m just gonna ignore you,” you say, unscrewing the cap and chugging like your life depends on it.

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “You know, you’d be way more convincing if you didn’t feel the need to announce you’re ignoring me.”

“Can you just shut up for two seconds? You’re killing my brain cells.”

He scoffs. “You’d need to own some brain cells first.”

“Says the one with zero left,” you shoot back, rubbing your temples like it might keep your skull from cracking open.

God. Ouch. You really hate drinking. Or at least… the aftermath.

Jungkook leans into the barstool, smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes lazily travel over you, head to toe and back again.

“Rough night?” he asks, voice dipping just enough to make your pulse stutter.

“More like a rough morning. Incredible night, though.”

“Yeah? That’s usually how it goes after a good one.”

“And you would know how, exactly?” you scoff. “Last time I saw you in a club was when you signed for Barça. Five years ago.”

He raises a brow. “Just because my idea of a good time doesn’t involve puking in Opium’s bathroom doesn’t mean I’m boring.”

“I never said you were boring.”

“Oh, come on. You were totally implying it.”

“You said it, not me.”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting. “Trust me, there’s a lot of things I could show you that’d prove I’m anything but boring.”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks feel suspiciously warm. “I’ll pass. I value my remaining brain cells.”

“Your loss. I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime here,” Jungkook drawls, his fingers drumming a lazy, rhythmic tattoo on the counter, each tap echoing in the quiet kitchen. His dark eyes glimmer with mischief, lingering on you just a second too long.

“Ew. I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last man alive,” you snap back, scrunching your nose as if the mere thought physically repulses you.

Jungkook pauses, tilting his head. A sly grin curls at the corner of his lips.

“Wait—do you hear that?” he says, leaning forward and cupping his hand theatrically around his ear.

You frown, blinking at him. “Hear what?”

“Oh, it’s just the sound of me not giving a shit.”

He drops his hand and leans back, smirk stretching wide, like he’s just delivered the punchline of the century.

You let out a groan so deep it vibrates in your chest, fingers dragging down your face. Of course. You should have expected that. This is Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with.

He laughs—a low, husky sound that skitters along your nerves. And God, you’d pay good money to wipe that smug grin off his face.

But there’s absolutely no way you’re risking your perfectly manicured French tips on his annoyingly perfect jawline. Even if it’s for a well-deserved punch. You’re too classy for that.

“Real mature, Jungkook. Seriously inspiring. I’m sure your fans are thrilled to call you their hero.”

He shrugs one shoulder, lips quirking as he rakes his gaze over you again, far too amused. “Hey, I’m not trying to be a role model. But, y’know… game recognizes game. So I can’t blame ‘em for loving me.”

“Ugh, whatever,” you mutter, flipping Jungkook off as you shuffle past him and sink into a stool across the counter. The cool metal feels merciful against your overheated skin as you try to keep the pounding in your skull under control.

“Where’s my brother, anyway?” you ask, rubbing your temples. “Wasn’t he with you last night?”

“Oh, shit. Right. I forgot,” Jungkook says, blinking like the realization just smacked him upside the head.

“How do you forget my brother?”

“The same way you apparently forgot how to walk in a straight line. How much did you drink?”

You wave him off with a sigh. “Just… a lil’ something. Had to keep the vibes alive.”

Jungkook arches a brow. “Yeah. You and your vibes.”

“I am vibes,” you shoot back. “You just can’t handle this level of coolness.”

“Okay, loser.” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Oh, and by the way—Dani slept over at Carla’s.”

Your eyes widen. “Why the hell couldn’t you have said that immediately?”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Because where’s the fun in that, duh.”

“Men are dumb, and you’re walking proof,” you say, flashing Jungkook a sarcastic smile.

“Ouch. You wound me.”

“Sorry, let me kiss it better.”

“Just admit you’re in love with me at this point.”

“You wish.”

“Never,” he says, smirking, but you decide not to waste any more of your already fraying patience on him this morning.

Instead, you unlock your phone, determined to distract yourself. You start scrolling through Instagram, praying you didn’t post anything mortifying last night.

No drunk rants. No blurry, tearful selfies. No 3 a.m. cryptic captions. Thank God for that.

But then something makes you freeze.

Your follower count.

It’s gone up by half a million.

You stare at the screen, blinking. Refresh. Still there: 4.5 million.

Sure, your Instagram’s big. But not gain-five-hundred-thousand-followers-overnight big.

Fuck.

Your stomach lurches, panic bubbling up as every worst-case scenario flashes through your mind.

Did you start a fight with paparazzi? Overshare something personal about you or Dani? Did you fall over outside the club? End up in some viral TikTok?

You’re spiraling when Jungkook’s voice cuts in.

“Ohhh, what about you and my boy Blake?” he says, leaning closer, eyes sparkling. “Didn’t know you were into the British accent.”

You whip your head toward him. “I’m into what now?”

He grins wickedly. “Saw some articles this morning—something about you two making out outside Opium?”

You gape at him. “There is literally no way I did that.”

Okay, you admit—you do dumb things when you’re drunk. You’re human, after all. Flawed, impulsive, prone to moments you’d rather forget. It’s part of the chaos of life.

But there’s no way you made out with a Barçelona player.

Your brother’s friend. His teammate.

The idea feels like a punch to your gut. No matter how foggy your memory is, you know you didn’t drag yourself into that kind of scandal—especially not in front of a crowd.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you unlock your phone, the screen’s cold glow harsh against your sweaty palms. With hesitant taps, you type “BarcaBarbie” and “Blake” into the search bar, your heart pounding with equal parts dread and desperate hope.

Then it appears.

A photo.

You and Blake, standing outside Opium, the flashing camera capturing the exact moment that, from this angle, looks damn close to a kiss.

Your breath catches in your throat. The world tilts.

Was it real? Or just a trick of the light?

You stare at the photo on your phone.

Your hands are tangled around his neck, gripping like you’re holding onto something solid in a world that’s spinning too fast. His hands rest somewhere near your waist—or at least that’s what it looks like through the grainy blur of the picture.

You already know how the gossip columns will twist this. “Blake Scott caught grabbing your ass like a starved man.” The words scream in your head before they even hit the headlines.

His neck tilts casually toward you, but your face is hidden beneath a messy curtain of hair, shadows swallowing your features from the unforgiving camera lens.

The image is blurry, but clear enough to punch you in the gut.

Your mind starts to replay the night.

Blake texted earlier, asking if you were out clubbing. Of course you were — it was Friday.

You remember stepping outside just as he arrived. You wrapped your arms around him in a quick hug—just a hug.

Your legs wobble, barely holding you upright, and he steadies you, his hands firm on your hips, anchoring you to the world.

And in that moment, a camera clicks.

God.

Your heart races as the weight of the photo settles in.

That’s all it was.

But will anyone believe you?

“Okay, chill out,” Jungkook says, finally noticing the way your face has gone pale. “I already talked to Blake. He told me what actually happened in the pic. I’m just teasing you.”

“I— but… what about Dani? The press? The rumors?” You groan, dropping your forehead onto the cool surface of the kitchen counter with a dull thud, hating every single one of your life choices.

Jungkook lets out a low laugh. “Blake literally sent a whole novel in our group chat explaining it. Dani’s chill about it. And you know how dating rumors work — they come fast, but they die even faster.”

“Ugh, Jungkook, I’m literally gonna kill myself,” you deadpan, searching his face like you’re hoping he’ll tell you this is all a bad dream.

Jungkook’s eyes soften for half a second. “There, there. Blake’s PR team is probably already working on a statement. It’s not the end of the world.”

You let out a shaky breath, rolling your shoulders like you’re trying to shake off a heavy coat. “Right, right. Shit. My PR agent is gonna murder me,” you mumble.

Jungkook snorts. “Please. Hugo? He’s basically your ride or die.”

“Yeah, well… Hugo’s even scarier as a PR agent precisely because he’s my ride or die.”

For a while, neither of you says anything.

The kitchen is quiet, filled only with the low hum of the fridge and the occasional buzz of Jungkook’s phone. You rest your elbows on the counter, your head in your hands, eyes heavy with exhaustion. The screen of your own phone lies dim beside you, notifications piling up — texts, mentions, headlines you can’t bring yourself to read.

You don’t have it in you. Not yet.

Your temples throb. The weight of everything — the photo, the rumors, the pressure — presses down on your shoulders like wet cement. You’re already rehearsing what you’ll say to Hugo, how you’ll soften the blow before he blows a fuse.

And then you hear it — the gentle scrape of cardboard against the counter.

You lift your head, and there it is. A half-melted tub of ice cream now sits in front of you, pushed your way without a word.

Jungkook doesn’t look up. He just scrolls through his phone like it’s no big deal. “Eat some,” he says softly. “It’ll make you feel better.”

The gesture hits you harder than it should.

You glance at the spoon sticking out of it, raising a brow. “With your spoon? Gross.”

That earns the tiniest smile from him — lazy and crooked. “Damn. Can’t even share a spoon now? What happened to friendship?”

“Not you being delusional and calling us friends,” you mumble, eyes fixed on the tub of ice cream in front of you.

It’s tempting — way too tempting. The soft, slightly melting surface, the way the cold air curls up from the rim. But taking a bite now would mean giving Jungkook the satisfaction of a win, and honestly? That’s a low you refuse to sink to. Even in this state.

Instead, you slide off the stool, your bare feet landing softly against the cool kitchen tiles. You feel his gaze trail after you as you move, heavy and unreadable, but you don’t look back.

Your fingers wrap around the silver handle of the spoon drawer, pulling it open with a soft click. You reach in, grab a small spoon — dainty, perfect — and close the drawer without a word.

Behind you, Jungkook lets out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, spoiled queen supreme, sorry for being nice.” His voice is laced with mock offense, but the smile tugging at his lips gives him away.

You turn just slightly, spoon in hand. “Deal with it.”

You settle back onto your stool, spoon in hand, and finally give in. You scoop up a bite of ice cream, letting the cold, creamy sweetness curl around your tongue. For a moment, you let yourself simply exist — hangover, scandal, and all — savoring the tiny bliss.

Then you hear footsteps approaching the kitchen, each step a dull thud against the floor.

“Yo, guys,” Dani calls as he enters, a little out of breath, hair tousled like he just rolled out of bed. He heads straight for you first, bumping your shoulder with his elbow.

“Knew I’d find you here,” he murmurs.

He moves toward Jungkook next, and they dive into one of those elaborate bro handshakes that make you roll your eyes. Why do men even bother?

“Wassup, loser,” Jungkook says, smirking.

“Nothing much, to be honest. Oh—Carla says hi to you both,” Dani replies, dropping onto the stool across from you.

“Tell her hi back when you text her,” you mumble, spooning more ice cream into your mouth.

Dani’s eyes glint mischievously as he leans forward a little. “Saw the pics of you and Blake. Not looking good for you, lil sis.”

“Shut the fuck up, please. You already know what happened.”

“Gee, I do,” Dani says, holding up his hands in surrender. “Can’t even make fun of you anymore?”

“Not when I’m hungover.”

“Okay, sorry for existing.”

“I forgive you. Because I love you,” you say, giving him a wry look over the rim of your spoon before digging back into the ice cream.

“Do you guys have training today?” you ask, still nursing your ice cream.

“No, thank fuck,” Dani groans, leaning back in his seat like the thought alone relaxes him. “We’ve got the weekend off.”

“I swear we never get weekends off anymore,” Jungkook adds, glancing over at Dani. “I seriously needed this.”

“Same. I think it’s because the new physio’s coming on Monday, so they’re giving us a little breather.” Dani stretches his arms above his head with a sigh. “Which reminds me—have you heard from Mini Doc? How are her and Jesus settling in Madrid?”

Your ears perk up at the name. Curiosity sparks instantly.

“Mini Doc?” you repeat. “You mean that girl who followed you around like a lost puppy? Your old physio’s daughter?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Dani says with an exaggerated eye roll. “She was just a friend.”

“Uh-huh,” Jungkook chimes in, grinning. “I talked to her a bit. She hates Madrid, bro. Says the players there are spoiled and annoying.”

“She probably just misses home,” Dani says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “She grew up here — I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook shrugs, “she doesn’t vibe with it.”

“Well, I don’t know if they’re cool,” you interject, “but some of them are super hot.” You sing-song the words, spoon in hand. “Marco is so my type.”

Dani scrunches his nose immediately. “Ew. I really didn’t need to hear that.”

“You just gave me the worst ick,” Jungkook says, shooting you a look of pure betrayal.

“Men can’t get the ick,” you declare, smug. “It’s for girlies only.”

You stand outside Hugo’s apartment, clutching your phone like it might shield you from the storm brewing on the other side of the door.

You’re already bracing for the headache waiting for you as soon as you step inside. Hugo must be livid. Hell, you’re certain of it.

If there’s one thing Hugo despises, it’s a scandal—especially one he didn’t orchestrate himself.

You inhale deeply, lift your chin as high as your pounding head will allow, and finally press the doorbell.

The door swings open almost instantly, like he’s been standing right there, waiting for you. Which, honestly, wouldn’t surprise you. You and Hugo have always had this weird, borderline telepathic connection. Like that time you desperately wanted the exact pair of Manolo Blahnik's Carrie Bradshaw wore in Sex and the City—the ones she got stolen at a party—and when you’d finally worked up the courage to tell Hugo… he’d already bought them for you.

Twin behavior, indeed.

Before you can even say hello, Hugo grabs your arm and pulls you inside, slamming the door shut behind you as though paparazzi might be lurking in the hallway.

“Girl, have you gone absolutely insane?” he hisses, glaring at you like you’ve personally offended every fiber of his being.

“No,” you mutter as you kick off your shoes, striding straight into Hugo’s living room like you pay rent here.

Hugo trails behind you, his steps growing louder — faster — matching your energy.

“God forbid a girl has some fun,” you mumble under your breath, throwing yourself onto his velvet couch with a dramatic sigh.

You finally pull off your sunglasses and set them gently on the coffee table, as if that might buy you grace points.

“You weren’t having fun,” Hugo snaps, his hands flying in the air like he’s about to conduct an orchestra of chaos. “It looked like you were all over Blake fucking Scott.”

“I wasn’t!” you shoot back, folding your arms tightly across your chest. “I was just saying hi. The press twisted it.”

“I know,” Hugo says, exasperated. “His PR team already reached out to clear things up. I’m just telling you how it looks.”

“Well who cares how it looks if we know the truth?”

“I do,” he says, deadpan. “And so should you. Especially since half of Barça’s fanbase now ships you and Blake. There are already fan pages. Edits, babe.” He throws up his hands again, pacing. “TikTok edits.”

You groan, burying your face in a throw pillow. “This is ridiculous.”

“What did Dani say?” Hugo asks, crossing his arms now, brows raised in challenge.

“He was chill,” you say, sitting up. “He knows me. He trusts me. He knows I’d never do anything with his teammate.”

“Well clearly he knows you wrong,” Hugo deadpans. “Do I need to bring up Thiago?”

“Shut up,” you groan again. “Don’t remind me. That was ages ago.”

“Yeah,” Hugo mutters. “Thank fuck it never hit the press.”

“No—thank fuck Dani never found out,” you correct, eyes wide. “He’d kill me.”

“Well I want to kill you right now,” Hugo says, pointing at you like a disappointed sitcom dad.

“You’re being way too dramatic,” you say, stretching your arms over your head until your shoulders pop.

Hugo lets out a sharp scoff. “Yeah? Tell that to your sponsors, your social media team, and basically everyone who works for you. I’m sure they’ll all be so understanding.”

“Okay, fuck,” you groan, slumping back into the couch. “I didn’t think about it. I made a mistake, okay? I forgot how unhinged the press can be.”

Hugo softens just a fraction, but his voice stays firm. “I get it. But you need to hammer it into that thick skull of yours. There’s no room for mistakes right now. Especially with us about to launch ‘BB’s Luxe.’”

You exhale, pressing your palms to your eyes. “Okay… you’re right. I’m sorry. So… what do we do now?”

“You?” Hugo points a dramatic finger at you. “Nothing. You act normal. Post some fit checks on your story. Maybe a random storytime on TikTok. Something totally unrelated to FC Barçelona — especially Blake.”

“Shouldn’t I just, like… go silent on social media for a while?” you ask hesitantly.

“No,” Hugo says, with the exasperation of a man dealing with a wayward toddler. “That’s exactly what we’re trying to avoid. You always post. If you suddenly go quiet, everyone’s gonna think you’ve got something to hide. Blake’s team already sent me a draft statement. Let me handle it. Let us handle it.”

“Okay…” you sigh. “I’m sorry again, bestie.”

“Stop apologizing,” Hugo snaps, though the corners of his mouth twitch. “It’s making me even angrier.”

“On the plus side,” Hugo says, tapping his finger thoughtfully against his chin, “your socials blew up overnight. That spike could actually work in our favor — especially with the skincare launch around the corner. I’m willing to bet half of Blake’s fangirls are now following you, waiting for the tea.”

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, tilting your head, curiosity peeking through your exhaustion.

“I’m thinking we flip the narrative,” Hugo says, leaning back against the arm of the couch, casual but sharp. “You went clubbing with Blake — so let’s frame it as two friends hanging out. We lean into that angle publicly. Maybe even get Blake to post a Story with you. A cute caption like ‘my little sister’ — anything that screams platonic vibes and nothing else.”

You narrow your eyes. “And why, exactly, would his PR team agree to that?”

Hugo smirks. “Because they kinda have to. If they want this to die quickly, they’ll play ball. Otherwise, we just… say nothing. And your silence would be way louder than any rumor. People would eat it up and assume something shady’s going on.”

“So… we’re blackmailing Blake’s team? Cool, cool.”

“It’s not blackmail,” Hugo says, waving his hand as though swatting a fly. “It’s strategic silence. There’s nuance, babe.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m practical. And brilliant. You’re welcome.”

“Okay… agreed,” you sigh, finally cracking a tiny smile.

Hugo pauses, giving you a long, assessing look. “Is Blake gonna be mad at you for this? I’d prefer not to spark World War III with your friend."

“No, trust me, Blake’s chill,” you assure him, waving a dismissive hand. “I called him earlier, and he was like, ‘Let’s feed into the delulu. Let them think we’re dating.’ ”

Hugo blinks, then bursts out laughing. “Straight men are genuinely my favorite science project.”

“You and me both, twin.”

Turns out Hugo’s plan is indeed brilliant.

You’ve only been gone from his apartment for two hours when your phone buzzes with a triumphant text from him.

Hugo (not the Boss): Blake’s PR team folded like a piece of paper. Check his Story.

You’re already opening Instagram before you’ve even finished reading. And there it is — Blake’s Story.

It’s a selfie of you and him laughing outside the club, your hair falling into your face, Blake mid-smirk. Scrawled across the picture in elegant cursive are the words:

— barça’s baby sis

Bingo.

Almost instantly, your phone lights up with notifications. Likes, comments, DMs — your Instagram turns into a frenzy of usernames, emojis, and rapid-fire speculation. People are eating it up, fan pages gushing about the “adorable sibling vibes” between you and Blake.

It’s dizzying. But for the first time all day, you feel like you can actually breathe.

You share Blake’s Story to your own account, adding a neat row of blue and red hearts underneath. Whew.

Taking Hugo’s advice to heart, you follow up with an outfit check on your Instagram feed — a carousel of mirror selfies, carefully curated angles, a playful caption. You pointedly ignore the flood of Blake-related comments piling up under the post.

Instead, you try to stay calm and patient, counting the seconds until Hugo sends over the official statement you can share publicly.

For now, you focus on controlling what you can — your aesthetic, your posts, your narrative.

Sure enough, as soon as Blake’s official statement goes live — polished, PR-approved, toeing the line between warmth and formality — Hugo sends you yours.

You smile the second you read it. Of course he nailed it. Hugo knows you like the back of his perfectly moisturized hand — well enough to write something that sounds exactly like you:

Rumors are wild, huh? Blake Scott and I… are officially in a relationship called friendship. Nothing romantic happening, I promise. Thank you for caring though — you’re all sweet. Back to the regularly scheduled program of outfits and coffee runs. 💙❤️

You post it to your Story without a second thought, watching the hearts and DMs begin to pour in — but you don’t stick around to read them.

You turn your phone off. Literally off.

Because what you need right now is some very serious, very intentional recollection with nature. Or, more realistically — sitting by the pool with sunglasses on and your SPF maxed out.

That counts too.

But to your absolute, utter disdain, sitting by your pool is none other than Jeon Jungkook — sprawled out, shirtless, muscles on shameless display, tattoos glinting under the sun, wearing a lazy grin like it’s a crown.

“Don’t you have your own house?” you whine, dropping onto your sun lounger with a dramatic sigh.

“I do,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his damp hair, sending tiny droplets flying. It almost distracts you for half a second. Almost. “But I don’t have Dani in my house.”

“Can’t you two hang out at your place sometimes? I need, like, peace and quiet. Please.”

“Nope,” he huffs, settling deeper into his chair. “Because we thoroughly enjoy making you suffer.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull out your SPF spray, misting it over your legs and working it in with careful, slow circles. The citrus scent fills the warm air.

“I’ve had a tough day, Jungkook. I really don’t have time for your shit.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, leaning his elbow on the back of his chair, eyes glinting. “Saw your little Instagram Stories. You and Hugo were clearly doing some serious PR shit to rack up those follower numbers.”

You scoff, flicking imaginary dust off your leg. “It’s called spinning the narrative, genius. You should Google it sometime.”

“I would… if I was ever in a scandal to begin with,” he says, winking. “But I’m an unproblematic king.”

Dani appears from behind you, casting a shadow across your lounger. He’s holding two tall glasses, sunlight catching on the fizzing liquid and slices of orange perched on the rims. Mimosas. Perfect.

“One’s for me, right?” you ask sweetly, batting your lashes at your brother like a starving puppy.

“Nope. One for me, one for Kook,” Dani says, pulling the glasses out of reach before you can even try grabbing one. He hands Jungkook his drink, and Jungkook shoots you a small triumphal smile.

“Pleaaase,” you whine, stretching out the word, reaching half-heartedly towards Dani's drink.

“If you want one, go make one yourself. Stop being so lazy,” Dani shoots back, settling onto the sun lounger beside Jungkook.

“Weren’t you like, hungover as fuck a few hours ago?” Jungkook asks, eyebrows raised as he casually snatches the SPF spray right out of your hand.

“Hey! Give it back, asshole,” you snap, lunging forward, but he’s already spritzing it onto his arms, rubbing it in like he owns the bottle.

Ugh. Why does he have to be like this?

“I’m not hungover anymore,” you hiss, glaring at Jungkook as you flop back into your seat. “I need to relax.”

“Daniiieeel,” you sing out sweetly, dragging his name like honey as you tilt your head toward your brother. “Can you please fetch me a mimosa?”

Dani rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t get stuck. “Again, why would I do that?”

“Because you love me, and I’ve been a tragic victim of gossip blogs today.” You press a hand to your chest dramatically, as though your heart might shatter.

“You’re so annoying,” he groans.

“Please? Pretty, pretty please?” You widen your eyes, batting your lashes like your life depends on it.

Dani huffs, shaking his head. “Fine.”

You throw your arms up in victory as Dani gets up, his silhouette soon disappearing into the house. Fuck yeah.

Behind you, Jungkook lets out an exaggerated scoff. “You’re on a fast track to becoming an alcoholic, you know that?”

“You are literally drinking right now,” you huff, getting to your feet and stalking toward the pool.

You can practically feel Jungkook’s gaze drilling into the back of your neck, but you refuse to turn around. Can’t he just leave you alone for five minutes?

“At least I’m not drinking every day,” he calls after you, voice edged with exasperation.

“Neither am I, duh. It’s a weekend sport,” you shoot back over your shoulder as you lower yourself onto the edge of the pool. Cool water closes around your ankles, and you let out a blissful sigh as the sun warms your skin.

For a moment, there’s blessed silence — no snarky retort, no teasing quip from behind you. It’s so suspicious that you slowly tilt your head to look back at Jungkook.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” you say, one eyebrow arched.

But instead of firing back, Jungkook just slumps his shoulders, eyes dropping as he shifts in his seat.

Jungkook shifts again on his lounger. He clears his throat once. Then again, a little louder. He subtly pulls a towel from beside him and drapes it across his lap, smoothing it out as casually as he can manage.

He tries to focus on the glimmering surface of the pool, or the pattern of sunlight flickering across the tiles. But his jaw is clenched tight, a faint flush creeping up his neck and coloring the tips of his ears.

He crosses one leg over the other, adjusting the towel for the third time, his fingers curling around the edges like it’s his last lifeline.

“Hot out today, huh?” he mutters under his breath, voice a little strained.

You laugh, splashing a bit of water with your heel. “The fuck? What’s up with you?”

“Me? Nothing. What’s up with you?” Jungkook shoots back quickly, his brows pulling together a little too tightly.

“You’re being weird,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes at him.

“No I’m not.” His voice comes out just a shade too high.

“Since when do you talk about the weather, dumbass?” you say, flicking droplets of water in his general direction.

“Umm…” Jungkook clears his throat, shifting yet again on his lounger. His fingers grip the edges of the towel across his lap like it’s a security blanket. “Since it’s… hot outside.”

“You’re scaring the crap out of me right now,” you say, squinting at Jungkook.

He sits stiffly on the lounger. “You’re just imagining things,” he snaps, a little too quickly.

“Uh-huh.” You narrow your eyes. With an exaggerated huff, you slip into the pool, shivering as the cool water closes over your warm skin.

“Careful, don’t drown,” Jungkook calls after you.

“Wow, thanks for the concern, Captain Safety,” you shout back, smoothing your hair back as you paddle toward the deeper end.

“I’m just saying, you’re dramatic enough as it is. You’d probably turn a noseful of water into a near-death experience.”

“Excuse me? I’m elegance and grace personified,” you shoot back, glaring at him from mid-pool.

He snorts. “Sure. Says the girl who fell off a bar stool last month completely sober.”

“That stool was wobbly, okay? Don’t make me come over there.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he retorts, eyes glinting.

You roll your eyes, diving under the surface. The water muffles the world into a hush, bubbles swirling around your face as the sunlight fractures into golden shards overhead. For a few seconds, it’s blissfully quiet.

When you pop back up, hair slicked back, Jungkook’s still watching you with a look somewhere between annoyance and... something else.

“Why are you staring at me like I’m a circus act?”

“Because you are a circus act.”

“Jealousy’s not a good look, Jeon,” you snap, sending another splash toward his lounger.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, adjusting the towel in his lap like it might save his dignity. “Just don’t come crying when your little scandal makes headlines again.”

Floating on your back, you grin at the blue sky. The water is cool and perfect, sunlight warming your face.

“Not worried, loser,” you call, voice echoing off the pool tiles. “Because at the end of the day, I’m me. And you’re just Jeon Jungkook.”

“And you’re a pain in my ass,” he fires back.

“And you love it.”

He groans, rubbing his face. “God, why do I even hang out here?”

“Because I’m fabulous. And Dani’s here,” you remind him.

You let yourself sink beneath the surface again, the cool water closing over your ears and swallowing the noise of the world. For a few precious seconds, there’s nothing but soft blue light and the gentle sway of currents around you.

Yeah… today actually turned out fine. You had a blast last night. The scandal, against all odds, ended up working in your favor. BB’s Luxe is about to launch soon. Life is good. Life is actually fucking amazing.

So, fuck Jungkook and his random weirdness. Whatever. It’s just how he is.

Because he’s Jeon Jungkook.

And he’s simply the biggest loser ever.

taglist: @cherryreadsfics @dreamersparacosm @dailynnt @kelsyx33 @jungkooksseuphoria @stvvrgrr @plutocartii @mimi1097 @unefleurv @111vln @adorepinkseworld @nikkinikj @taolucha @rarakore @beattiestreet @souleater44 @cdllevantae @jungkoode @kimishataheyung @fleintur @generouspursethingbat @taesnumber1 @kooever @impossiblecopoaffire @kaystrategy @taekrve @vintagemoonsstuff @lcvryu @guwol @jenniebyrubies @mar-lo-pap @smolchild95 @sstass @midas-quinn @osirisnasa @superstarfishsandwich @alextgef @sphrssss @pitchblack0309 @jinnyverse @bjoriis @httpjeonlicious @yooforeaa @petals4bangtan @futuristicenemychaos @lvnderdreams @breezy-bts @annyeongbitch7

741 notes · View notes