Smiling The Whole Time I Was Reading This 🤭 I Love This So Much

meet you where the sky meets the earth

to love is to listen to your heart, not your brain. to dream whilst in love, is to make your brain listen to your heart.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; former teacher x former student [gojo is six yrs older than reader]; bittersweet fluff; you're so in love w satoru, it shd hurt- but it doesn't because you've grown numb to the ache; one-sided feelings [are they really?]; few mentions of food; gojo calls you 'cookie'; this is way too tender even for me, istg; 1.5k wc

▸ belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna! 😊

▸ the header is from pinterest, the dividers are by @benkeibear, the characters used here aren't mine. pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this. hope y'all enjoy reading this ❤️❤️

the first time you think of marrying gojo, you're only twenty years old.

hardly the age to be dreaming of wedding bells at, right?

yeah, right. that's very, very right— still, your heart is your heart, just how your brain is your brain, the former easily swaying the latter by a few skipped beats— and you find your cheeks growing warm, laughs stumbling past your lips as you place the box of cornflakes into your shopping cart.

gojo sputters from beside you, eyes comically wide behind his shades as they dart from you to the elderly woman before.

you take a second to compose yourself before answering the ask that created this mess in the first place, a polite smile lining your face, "oh, no– not at all, ma'am! we're not married. i'm just an old friend helping him with the groceries, haha."

"oh," that's the only thing the woman says in reaction, kind smile now a tiny frown before it reappears. and she apologises, "i'm sorry, dears. just thought you two to be newlyweds from how giddy and loving you seemed to each other... time i went for an eye check-up, yes?"

"hey, please don't be sorry..." you start to say, but before you can get any further, the woman has already walked away with her shoppping basket.

you fall silent.

the same way the man next to you too has grown quiet, an awkward silence taking up the foot between you both. until you break it with a strained chuckle.

"we were acting giddy and loving to each other, eh?"

"were we?" comes the contemplative question to your comment. you look up to find gojo looking at you, the blue of his eyes weirdly bright in the dim lights of the supermarket as he repeats, "were we, cookie?"

yes. no. you don't really know—

yes, 'cause you know you love him.

not since forever, no, but close enough to it: your once-fascination for the supposed mortal deity of the jujutsu world, the mitochondrion on which the cellular structure of the society banks to survive; that grew into something made of wonder, respect and fondness, as you slowly came to know not only the icon but also the man behind it; that grew into something so profound, nestling deep within your existence– so much so that you feel the earth shifting on its axis everytime he calls you or grins at you or just looks in your direction—

no, 'cause you know you aren't loved back.

not the way you wish to be... not that you blame gojo for that, though!

you know he is way too busy to be thinking of such topics– what with being the strongest sorcerer ever, the head of the one-man gojo clan, the teacher to the first-years at tokyo high, the legal guardian– but in fact, the father figure to the two kids, 'gumi and 'miki– or maybe, just maybe, he is busy, alright, but not too busy— gojo simply doesn't see you that way; he sees you to be nothing but his former student— one he knows he can rely on to help with his children, or the groceries, or a variety of other menial daily tasks he can just hire help for—

you don't know.

yeah... you really, really don't know– and by now, you think you don't even want to know anymore. it's easy, it's safe, it's nice to remain not knowing. the word 'yes' comes with too many dreams– the word 'no' serves the perfect haven to nightmares.

the three words "i don't know" bear no such burden on their back– an untroubled answer you decide to offer, decide to escape using for the time being— until a slight knock on the head interrupts you, followed by an entertained set of chortles.

you peer up to find gojo beaming down at you, his eyes crinkled and cheeks dimpled. something twists in the middle of your chest, but it isn't painful; it's grounding. pleasant, even.

"it's too easy to get you worried, y'know? you're unbelievably easy to manipulate, heh."

"oh, am i now?" you retort, eyes narrowing into a cross glare– only to be betrayed by the fond smile grazing your lips not even a beat later. the man hums, grin simmering down to a knowing smile.

"mmhm," he says with that musical sway to his tone that never fails to make your fingers tingle, "you should have seen your face when i asked you the question– so pale and stiff– almost as if i was asking you to leave then and there, hearing that granny's comments—"

"you would have asked me to, if they were true– wouldn't you?"

gojo's smile vanishes in the blink of an eye. and you think the hand he has stretched out to the shelves of biscuits might fall too– but it does not, and you see him take a packet of your favourite bourbon biscuits followed by a packet of the digestives you've been forcing him to eat, and place them into the cart.

he checks the shopping list in your hand before he looks back at you.

before he smiles back at you: so soft, so solemn, so un-satoru— you instantly regret interrupting him with such a question.

but you do know how it is, don't you? what with a thudding heart and a thinking brain...

the handle of the cart digs deep indents into your palm as you press the weight of your worries into the cool metal and lean towards your companion on this grocery run, the same way a moth flies towards a flame, towards its doom–

"don't you ever dream of falling in love, gojo-san?" you let your voice drop to a murmur, audible only to you and the object of your desires, the subject of your worries, "do you not dream of a happily ever after with your 'one'– do you, gojo-san?"

"no," the response to your words comes in the very same instant. the man's shades slip a touch down the bridge of his nose as he pins his sharp gaze on you– though it can do nothing to hide the mild tremor in his grin from you when he says, "and i don't plan on dreaming ever. dreaming is only for fools with too much time to spare– do i look like a fool with too much time to spare, cookie?"

no. not at all. you don't. you look the farthest from it, in fact— is what you know you should say, and just drop the matter. for now. forever—

but you don't... just don't.

retorting instead, still a murmur but with the faint lick of a fire now, "and what do you suggest should be done to those fools, gojo-san? punished severely for their grievous crime of dreaming, hm?"

"oh, don't be too harsh," he tuts with a breezy chuckle, "what people do is honestly their business; one i've got no interest in interfering in— but..." his grin twists into something wry, a change you find tough to tear your gaze away from, "i don't think i would give such folks the time of my day– it's simply not worth it to talk with those whose feet are not on the solid ground, floating around meaninglessly in air–"

"why are you talking with me then?"

interrupted, gojo blinks. once, and twice, then thrice.

you watch your face crumple in the dark tint of his shades, withering and cracking in the dull light and stale air of this stupid supermarket; but definitely not as stupid as you:

messing things up when they're perfectly fine and alright, only 'cause you do not, rather cannot, keep your mouth shut, no matter what– all your inhibitions let gone of as your heart gains control over your brain and your stupid damned mouth—

you feel a tiny knock on your forehead, the second time this evening, followed by strands of hair being gently brushed away; too careful for your breath to not get stuck in your chest. you peer up at the man in front, teeth lightly gnawing the inside of your lower lip.

gojo's features shift into something between fond and worried– you just hope you aren't misreading him right now– the man tucks those strands of hair behind the shell of your ear.

his fingers still right above your jaw, touching yet not really touching, features finally, finally, settling into a smile– "maybe because i enjoy talking with you, cookie, no matter how foolish you are."

some people say, marriage is a holy act, a sacred institution, in and of itself— connecting hearts, binding souls– cementing the promises of staying together forever... whilst few see marriage to be meaningless— paltry affair of papers and signatures and people, none bearing any significance, 'cause nothing can, not when it comes to the matters of the hearts, neither in proving nor in disproving them–

no matter what people think, you think you will be okay, irrespective of whether you marry gojo or not, irrespective of whether gojo loves you or not– provided– and this is a weird, still important 'provided'—

you and he end up shopping together in the supermarket, feeling and seeming so happy and comfortable with each other— others mistake you for a pair of newlyweds, blissfully deep in love.

tysm to my dearest andy [@andysdrafts], mimi [@avatarofstars] & dilay [@roseqzpd] for constantly motivating me while i was writing this. ilysm my darlings 😘😘😘

masterlist

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tw: death, 18+ only: sukuna is very protective over his little wife.

“Woah, she’s hot!”

That was the first comment. SUKUNA knew then he wanted to kill this man.

“Shit, look at her.” The vulgar stranger whistled, his lustful eyes trailing the curves of your body. “I hope I can get five minutes alone with her in the bathroom.”

Sukuna swallowed a sip of his dark liquor.

He and this stranger were the only two individuals at the gathering sitting on the couches instead of mingling with the others. It was the perfect spot for him to keep an eye on you, his sweet little wife, but him alone. This man? Who dared to join Sukuna on the couch and pour himself a shot of whiskey?

He was going to die tonight. Sukuna was certain of it.

Sukuna turned to face one of the bodyguards standing beside the couch — not that Sukuna needed any protection. Silently, he gestured in your direction, and the bodyguard immediately understood Sukuna’s wordless command.

The stranger watched the interaction take place. He watched the guard approach you and guide you over to the sitting area, and he smiled wildly.

“You’re bringing her to me? You’re a good man,” he said.

Sukuna took another sip of his dark liquor.

When you arrived, a kind smile on your face, Sukuna put his glass down on a nearby table and patted his lap twice.

Happily, you took your seat, and his large hand rubbed your hip.

Oh, the man was stunned. Angry.

“Hey, I called dibs on that bitch first,” he spat.

Sukuna watched the corners of your lips fall as the man continued on, on, and on. During his ramble, Sukuna whispered in your ear, “Close your eyes and cover your ears, girl.”

You did as you were told, though it did little to muffle the sound of the gunshot that came seconds later.

The party guests were silent for a moment, but after observing you in Sukuna’s lap, a gun in his hand, and an unfamiliar dead body bleeding out on the couch, they were quick to return to their conversations.

After all, Sukuna owned this building. This party was his. And this wasn’t the first time he had to murder someone on his kindhearted wife’s behalf.

“Hey,” Sukuna, who was aggressive with every other soul except for you, spoke softly. “I’ll cheer you up when we get home, pretty girl.”

With him, that could have meant watching reruns of your favorite show with you, or him sloppily licking at your clit until you came repeatedly.

More than likely both.

🥹

water’s edge | 02

₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au | official playlist

₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?

₊˚.༄ author’s note: did i really just punch out a 12.9k chapter? 😅 thank you again to the loml @angstbot2000 for beta-reading! sorry for the wait everyone and thank uou for the sweet messages! again, reblogs are highly appreciated.

₊˚.༄ episode list: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. +++

Flashback: Shinjuku Opera City (a week after the jubilee gala)

Click. Beep. beep. beep Your wristwatch mimicked a ticking time bomb right now. You breathe once to make sure you were still, for all intents and purposes, alive. The smell of the Sauvignon blanc laid in front of you was so heavenly, its grape-like aroma tempting you to take a sip but you couldn’t, afraid that your body will just reject it in its current state of shock. You must have had a few too many earlier, your commoner palette not exactly used to the refreshing and crisp taste of white wine directly sourced from the rolling hills of Pouilly-Fume, and you must be hallucinating all this in your drunken stupor. Yes, all this was a hallucination, some sick naive dream you conjured after sharing a passing glance with the prince of the nation. It had to be, otherwise, why does it feel that your body has shut down? You were unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to think.

And you were adamantly sure that you had also been rendered unable to breathe.

“…Huh?” That probably sounded stupid to your unlikely companions, well, normally it isn’t that stupid if you haven’t said that every five minutes or so during this fateful encounter. “This is a mistake. You really want me to-?”

“-Yes,” he said immediately, his mother nodding alongside him. His finger glided across the rim of his scotch glass. He took it neat, of course, the Crown Prince is a man of good taste. “I can ask my people to help you move your belongings to a more dignified residence tomorrow morning.”

The empress frowned at Satoru’s backhanded comment about your way of life. “Satoru, you’re scaring her,” she whispered worriedly to her son.

“If she’s smart, sure,” Satoru hisseed under his breath. If he was going to propose to you and consequently marry you under his parents’ orders, he was going to do it his way. “Look, Ms…?” he trails off, your name escaping him.

“(Y/N),” you provided. “My name is (Y/N).”

He makes a soft ‘tch’ sound which goes unnoticed since you were too preoccupied in shaking away the haze of thoughts in your mind dimming your ability to think. He continues, “As I was saying. Ms. (Y/N),” he puts emphasis on your name, etching the loathsome sound of it into his mind. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

What did he mean by that? “Excuse me?”

“I know I said that I was just a fan when I sent you those flowers after your performance tonight but, I guess you could say I’ve become an admirer of yours.”

This was all scripted, and Satoru, despite having had a memory good enough to memorize has a good his entire family tree including the collateral branches before he even graduated from primary school, found the words getting stuck in his throat and he trailed off, his mind was filled to the brim with nothing but the face of the woman he is unwillingly betraying in the name of protecting his status.

But wasn’t this what she wanted when she threw herself at the emperor’s feet that night? She was selflessly allowing him to go through with this despite knowing that every false tender word that he says to you would be a dagger to her heart, that every moment spent with you instead of her would make her cry a river of tears.

It feels as if this entire thing was a circus he had been forced into because his crown was hanging dangerously off the edge of the tightrope above him. Forced to perform, forced to act, forced to smile so that he wouldn’t feel the sting of the whip his father, the ringleader, had in his hand. Wasn’t that something Satoru has always done? How was this any different from all the elaborate ruses he’s been ordered to perform? Gojo involuntarily looks behind his seat, craning his head back, hoping to see the familiar figure of the love of his life standing exactly a meter away from him, just as she’s always faithfully done, but that was all wishful thinking; Himiko had been removed from the duty of accompanying him tonight.

“I don’t think I’m just a fan,” he continues, turning his attention back to you, the words confessing his so-called love being uttered stoically. You stop him right there, the amount of bewilderment in your heart at a fatal maximum. His hand finds his pocket, searching for the godforsaken ring he is about to present to you. “And I—“

“—You’re just curious, Your Royal Highness,” you dismissed his so-called feelings with a shake of your head. “You’ve never been with someone outside your circle, and you’re curious about what it would be like to be involved with a commoner like me.”

When the words leave your lips, a stretch of panic washes over your face. Did you just disrespect the prince and the empress by doubting the sincerity of his words? Or did they disrespect you by treating you like a moron? Were you just supposed to believe that Prince Satoru had feelings for you? Your mind was spinning, and you were feeling a migraine aura beginning to form at your peripheral vision. You had to get out of there. Quickly moving the chair back so that you could stand up, you bow contritely to excuse yourself from the room. “Ms. (Y/N), please wait!” the empress sighs exasperatedly when you leave the private dining room of the high-class restaurant, your heels clicking against the marble floor as you hurriedly see yourself out.

Perhaps, they were being too hasty for you to say “yes”, too secretive about their true intentions. If they were to even have a chance of convincing you to marry Satoru, they have to let you in on the truth. Luckily, despite her age, the empress catches up to you just as you are about to hail a cab which was proving to be difficult since it was now past eleven o’clock and even the busy skyscraper district of Shinjuku was starting to look deserted.

“Ms. (Y/N),” she breathes, stopping just a few feet from you. “Please hear me out. I’m sorry, this was a mistake…”

“It's fine, Your Royal Highness, I know the Crown Prince doesn’t like me the way he says he does. I may not be as highly educated as you but I’m not an idiot.”

The empress looks on sadly. “Well,” she sighs, standing next to you. “I knew you would figure it out sooner or later. Still, I’m really sorry for what happened back there.”

You don’t respond for a long while, contemplating what to say; the air between you is one of awkwardness and something’s gotta give, otherwise, you and the empress would be standing in the middle of the empty street like total fools. You are the first to break, “Your Highness. Why me? And what’s this really about?”

Why on earth were you chosen over so many other women in Tokyo’s most affluent families to become Prince Satoru’s wife? You expected that this so-called dinner would be nothing more than a courtesy call to thank the prince and the empress for visiting the last night of your show. One could only imagine the emotional whiplash you felt when the prince suddenly offered for you to become his wife which was totally unexpected considering you have never spoken a word to one another before. Just what kind of a messed up Shakespearean romantic tragedy did you wind up in? This entire thing felt like a work by some deranged author who’s had one too many to drink while writing this poisoned manuscript of a love story.

“It’s exactly as the prince said,” she says succinctly. “The prince isn’t getting any younger and he’s in need of a wife. That’s what I would have told you if you were one of those shallow high society women I’ve had the displeasure of meeting.” The empress bitterly thinks about one specific girl that is so loathsome and vile that she has forcibly brought Satoru on the brink of total destruction. Last week’s fiasco with the emperor was a warning shot, and knowing her husband, there won’t be a second time.

You frown, not liking it when people are purposefully brought down to compliment another. “I’m sure that’s not true,” you mumbled, not really knowing what to say.

“But it is,” the empress insists. “People who are born with everything have this tendency to think they are above everyone else. Maybe that was what caused the prince to become this way, because his own mother was born from nothing,” she chuckled.

Knowing that the prince was the only son she will ever be blessed with, having had him at the age of forty-one, she overindulged Satoru by giving him everything, and bending to his every will. So, Satoru grew up confident that he’d only have to point at a storefront window and his mother would get it for him, otherwise he’d throw a tantrum. Maybe that’s what’s going on — all the scandals, all the controversies — was this another one of Satoru’s tantrums because they refused to allow him to have a relationship with, much less marry, his chief-of-staff?

“Nothing? I thought Your Highness, well before you married His Majesty, was an heiress to a car company. I don’t think you should lump yourself in with us.” Those who were truly born from nothing, you thought to yourself.

The empress puts a hand over her mouth as her shoulders begin to shake as she giggles. “Is that so?” she laughs, reaching into her coat pocket, in search of something. Finally, she feels the familiar feel of the trinket she keeps with her day and night.

You expected her to pull out something more valuable than a five yen coin, and it looked like it’s an old one, judging by its rough and rust-stained edges. “See this?” She carefully places the coin in her hand as if it were a precious item. “This was the first ever money I ever had to my name at only eighteen years old. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it even now,” she smiles wistfully as memories of her youth, albeit a simpler time away from the intrigue of the imperial court. She gently places the memento in your hand.

It was so light, it barely weighed a few grams yet it held so much of the empress’s heart in it, like a personal diary that has kept her company throughout the years, or perhaps it was a compass that led her to the path that resonated with her true self- the girl of only eighteen that had the look of a dreamer in her eyes, or maybe it was an anchor that served to keep her feet firmly planted on the humble ground in spite of her exalted status as the emperor’s consort.

You studied the coin. “Only five yen?” Even you, a musician whose finances are scattered to the wind, could make more than five yen in less than an hour. You were confused. Was this another one of their tricks to get you to say yes? No, it couldn’t be, seeing as how the empress seemed so genuine now, almost like the conversation you were having was like a mother and daughter having a heartfelt chat.

The empress nods. “I was a store clerk at a music shop when I was young. It was the only way I could save up and go to college. Of course, this was all before my father invented that powerhouse of an automobile when he was tinkering around with a few of the customer’s cars in the mechanic shop he ran.”

Listening intently to the empress’s story, a sense of solidarity seemed to grow between you and her. “And this was your first salary? Hard to believe music shops pay so little back then.”

“No, no. That was a tip I received from a customer when I returned her wallet. She left it in the shop and I ran after her. Of course if I were a thief, I would have taken off with it, but it was completely empty.” That caused you to laugh. Who knew that the empress who always carried herself with poise and dignity had such a deadpan sense of humor? “So, she gave me the only coin in the wallet to thank me. A five yen coin. Since then, I’ve kept this with me at all times. Call it an old lady’s sentimental ramblings, but this is what keeps me from letting all this get to my head.”

You nod in understanding. But what did this beautiful story have to do with marrying Satoru? The empress senses the question before you could even form words to ask it.

“What I’m saying is that Satoru was my outlet,” she sulked. “My second chance. So I gave him everything his little heart could ever want. And as a mother I know it was wrong of me to raise him to think he’s above everything and everyone.” She didn’t actively do that, though. Satoru just developed that toxic kind of thinking somewhere down the line. “I’m sure you’ve heard the nasty things they say about my son.”

The atmosphere suddenly turns sullen. You remembered how you watched in horror when Prince Satoru appeared on your TV screen the morning after the jubilee gala. You normally saw the prince attending royal functions such as groundbreaking and ribbon-cutting ceremonies, and while you are aware, just like everyone else in the country, that Satoru had his own share of misfits, you dismissed it as the actions of a rebellious young adult. You never thought for one second that you would see the prince battering a man until he was closer to death than a rat caught in a mousetrap outside of a shady gambling den in an unsavory district in Tokyo.

“I’m pretty sure the press is stretching the truth at times.” That was the right thing to say, you didn’t want to badmouth her son in front of her.

She scoffs humorlessly. “I’m not asking you to defend him. What I’m asking of you is to help him.” She takes your hand in hers. “Ms. (Y/N), this marriage may start out as a publicity stunt, but you could turn into something better than that.”

Maybe you’d fall in love with the prince, and maybe he could open his heart to love another again, someone who was healthier for him than Himiko. While the disbelief in your face was clear, the empress’s words give you a sense of hope but again, being excused from this narrative was what you wanted more than anything. “I think you overestimate my power, Your Highness. What you are asking of me will only end badly, I’m sure of it. It’ll be a disaster for everyone.”

Looks like there was no convincing you. A lot seems to be going on inside the empress’s head and you sympathized with her anxiety, but this was something you couldn’t do. You have been what people call a “pushover” your entire life, but the subject of your marriage is critically non-negotiable.

“I understand,” the empress is now resigned to her son’s fate. It seems, after all that song and dance in front of the emperor, it was all futile in the end. At this rate, this time tomorrow, the son of the empress’s unwilling mistress would probably be declared heir apparent and she would be powerless to stop it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just my mother taught me that marriage is sacred and that I should never mess around with it. You could have asked me for anything, Your Highness, and I would have said ‘yes’ in a heartbeat.”

“Your mother seems like a very wise woman,” the empress smiles softly. “And she’s very lucky to have you as her daughter.”

You stiffened at that. “I…I wouldn’t know if she feels that way, really.”

A wave of confusion crashes over the empress. What did you mean? “Sorry?” she clarifies. You hesitate to let her in on your own pain and you feel a slight prick of guilt poking your heart. She had been so vulnerable tonight, so open with you about her grief while you guarded yours in a titanium safe. She decides not to push the subject further and instead places a hand over yours comfortingly before turning to leave.

A thought occurs in your head and everything seems to slow down. The cars passing by the main avenue of Nishi-Shinjuku seemed to be running at 10 mph instead of the road’s minimum 20 mph. The billboards towering over you have momentarily lagged like some fatal error occurred in the LCD screen.

…This was wrong, you shouldn’t even be thinking of this.

...What would make you any different from a bloodsucking gold-digger?

…Don’t run after her.

She wouldn’t want you to do this. It would kill her if you did this. But haven’t you killed her many times before? What would make this time any different? Absolutely nothing. Your mind is made up.

…

“Your Highness, please wait.”

6:12 AM.

You didn’t know that the smell of flowers could be so vile and revolting.

Sat in the middle of a room with about a hundred bouquets of flowers from a multitude of well-wishers, at six in the morning on the day of your wedding, you gaze up at the huge mural of your new residence in the imperial palace. The pupils of your eyes followed each image on the vast painted ceiling which, compared to your tiny Tokyo apartment, felt like the entire sky altogether. Your eyes follow the image painted by Kanō Eitoku depicting life in the old seat of the imperial system, Kyoto, each blink of your eyes, you hone in on a new aspect of the mural: the mountain of Ryūgatake, the old imperial palace which you were told still existed today, the grasslands surrounding the ancient capital, and the people of Kyoto as they go about their daily lives.

If only those people could speak and were not just plastered images on a lifeless cement canvas to keep you company, maybe you won’t feel as lonely having had to wait for your wedding day to roll by without your husband-to-be by your side.

Sighing, you fall against the carpeted floor, your hands clutching a greeting card from one of your friends who gushed about how you had suddenly become a princess-to-be overnight and how you must be so happy to be engaged to such a handsome man that is prince Satoru Gojo. You hold back your tears, your fingernails digging into the vellum card.

You’ve given up calling the Imperial Household Agency to connect the line to Satoru, they come up with a different ruse each time. “Please, I need to speak to the Crown Prince,” you would sniffle into the line’s speaker desperately.

“His Royal Highness is busy right now in his office.”

“My apologies, Ms. (Y/N), but Prince Satoru is unavailable right now due to [insert name of engagement which is perfectly-timed with the wedding consultations he’s supposed to attend with you here].”

“Prince Satoru is currently away to inaugurate the new building for [insert any imperial charity foundation here].”

But you know all those so-called reasons for his absence were lies, excuses to keep their future consort from overthinking where her distant fiancé could be. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen Himiko around either, that alone should be enough to answer the lingering questions in your head about Satoru’s whereabouts. It wasn’t as if you could suddenly act like some jealous spouse when 1.) You aren’t married yet. 2.) You are the trespasser in their relationship. 3.) You are simply a bandage solution to clean up the prince’s image, someone who had unknowingly been at the right place at the right time. You are well aware of where you stand in the grand scheme of things; that kiss as you drove out of the palace compound that day should have been a good enough reminder that you will never truly be your future husband’s better half.

That title, the one you unwittingly stole from a woman you’ve never even met before, is something you can never truly call your own. You were no different than the typical other woman who would wear the legal wife’s wedding dress like some thief.

Yet how is it that you know all of these things like scripture but you still spent the entire night crying over a man who finds it physically impossible to be in the same room as you? Why did it hurt so much when you saw your fiancé shield his girlfriend from the autumn chill the same way you hoped he would shield you from the many challenging questions during that press conference? Why does it feel like a dagger had been plunged into your chest when you saw Himiko kiss Satoru so tenderly, and your husband-to-be returning the gesture with equal fervor?

You lay on your side, the velvet texture of the carpet somehow providing you some semblance of comfort. What would your retainers say when they come into this room and see the crumpled form of their future empress on the floor, her knees hugged to her chest as she tries to make sense of everything that has happened these past few days? You imagined that they’d probably think you were crazy, and Satoru would probably jeer at the thought of having a simpleton as a wife.

You were only a girl of twenty-three summers, you should be enjoying your twenties by doing the things that you love with the people you love. These sunny days of youth pass by in the blink of an eye, but in your case, you have been totally robbed of it, now being primed to become not just a princess but a wife too. While the former is certainly an intimidating role, the latter is just downright petrifying for someone as young as yourself.

Not a single soul save for the empress went to check up on you last night, the only people you were expecting to keep you company today are the hairdressers and makeup artists to prepare you for the wedding. Of course, the austere members of the Imperial Household Agency are also set to make an appearance in your chambers today probably to make you sit through another briefing session on court etiquette. You glance out the window, it was barely light out due to the winter equinox when nights are longer than daytime, and somehow that made you even more sad than you already were laying down on the floor of your room, desolately alone.

A knock at the door awakens you from your trance and you sit up, arranging your hair neatly and pulling on your shoes. Sighing, you make your way towards the door and see someone who you do not quite expect. He momentarily shifts his attenton to the battalion of attendants behind him, nodding to them. “Leave us alone.”

“Your Majesty, good morning,” your breath hitches in your throat as you hastily bow your head before the emperor who seemed to be more anxious about this day more than you, seeing as he is already dressed in his three piece suit and slacks ensemble with the Collar of the Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum hanging between his lapels.

The emperor was an enigmatic figure who mostly kept to himself, his chamberlain and main staff often joking amongst themselves how the emperor was really a recluse who had only been born to become the sovereign ruler of a nation by an unfortunate stroke of fate. Your future father-in-law hums in acknowledgement and you are left to wonder if this is where Satoru gets his aloof nature from. “Good morning, (Y/N). May I come in?” he asks as if this entire compound wasn’t his.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

He eyes the many bouquets in the room, sighing heavily as he does, the guilt of putting you in this impossible position weighing on him. He admits that he jumped the gun when the empress offered to have Satoru marry someone who could brighten up his public image from the many blemishes it incurred during the night of the jubilee when he and Himiko were seen together, causing trouble in the casinos of the infamous Kabukichō red light district.. To have you bear the weight of becoming a lamb to the slaughter with this marriage was just downright cruel, knowing that his son will certainly make it his life’s purpose to destroy you, but what choice did he have?

It is the crown that makes the choice for him, he’s been told by his own father.

“Listen, do you have the slightest idea of what you’re about to go through?” the man whom you would call your father-in-law in just a few hours asks flatly.

Of course you do, Satoru has already given you a taste of what your marriage is going to be like. You solemnly nod “I think so,” murmuring softly, crestfallenness is evident in your voice. “Satoru has made it clear.”

The emperor purses his lips as he fumbles with a tulip that had been nestled in one of the bouquets in your chambers, “Well, it’s good that you know. I know my son and I am not here to tell you that everything you’ve seen these past couple of days will get better,” he eyes the telephone, one you haven’t even placed the phone back onto the handset in hopes that Satoru would call you. “In fact, it’s only going to get worse from here.”

You frown, crestfallen. “How so?” you asked, your hand gripping the fabric of your dress. “Are you saying that this is just the beginning?” Truthfully, you were fine with this being the beginning, only if you could have the reassurance that all this will come to an eventual end. But it seems now that this was going to be life as you know it, with a husband who gags at the sight of you and has the innate ability to treat you like you were his personal bedwarmer and doormat.

“Yes,” the emperor says gravely, a dark look crossing his features. “So if you’d like to back out now, now is your only chance. Satoru has made enough messes, a canceled wedding will barely do anything to his reputation at this point.”

He’s right; these past days have only proved that Satoru is probably granting you a way out, maybe that’s why he has done nothing else but to ignore you as a final act of mercy if you ever decide to bail. One tiny kiss on the cheek is nothing when he starts to go missing in the middle of the night to attend to his mistress’s beck and call, when he starts to bring home his mistress for dinner to actively spite you with their relationship, or when he, god forbid, starts fucking in her in your marital bed while you’re away on some royal function.

You could live a full life without him, having barely even known him save for his proclivity to emotionally torment you, but it feels wrong to just…up and leave after all that song and dance in the press opportunity.l Shaking your head, the emperor’s offer is refused insistently.

“I’m not going to give up on him, I won’t give up on our marriage before it even begins,” your eyes bore into the emperor’s own. You’ve promised yourself and the empress that you’ll see this through, if Satoru is going to make your life a living hell, then, you’ll just have to take all his blows like a champ.

“I don’t doubt your willpower, (Y/N). I’m just saying that this might be even more difficult for you than you think,” the emperor warns. “Satoru doesn’t just push back, he’ll run over people who get in his way.”

“Your Majesty, it’e alright. I’ll manage somehow.” you mumbled. “The empress and I made an agreement that if I marry Satoru, I…” you trail off, not really wanting to reveal more than you should, the emperor waits for you to continue, his eyebrows furrowed together.

What would you get if you married Satoru if not unnecessary suffering? And even then, that didn’t sound like a good deal, the emperor thinks to himself. You could have gone on happily with your life, blissfully unaware of the trials of being married to the white-haired prince, you probably would have continued climbing the career ladder before finding someone to settle down with, maybe you’ll have a few kids along the way, and Satoru would also be blissfully unaware of a certain (Y/N) (L/N) existing on this plane of reality with him.

Why were you so committed to marrying him?

“I’d be able to…” you stutter. There was no use hiding it now but maybe you could conceal the truth a little longer, if not for your sake, but for the empress — no, a grieving mother — who met you in a hotel café that night with the weight of the world on her shoulders and asked you to keep the details of this transactional union a secret. “I would…”

The emperor raises a hand to stop you, though he is mildly perturbed at your hesitance to open up to him, he decides that whatever you and his wife were keeping from him does not concern him or the throne and that it is simply a thing that should be left unsaid. He really didn’t want to pry into the details of the contract you agreed to, and since you seem to have already made up your mind, all he could do now is hope that you do not give up so easily on his son the same way he did, and that this choice to marry Satoru would not backfire on you or the imperial system in the long run.

“Stop. I understand,” the emperor nods, his shoulders seemingly slumping in defeat as he is unable to convince you to cut it and run from the horrible fate you were speeding towards at a hundred miles an hour. Maybe Satoru was right to make you out to be an idiot, the emperor frowns. “But…don’t say I didn’t warn you, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you all the best.”

And just like that, the wedding pushes through as scheduled, having declared before the father of the groom that you weren’t one to give up so easily, or…maybe it’s just your blind optimism talking.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you settle into an ornate curtsy, your foot gracefully tucked behind the other, your hand postured in a cordial handshake with His Majesty. The emperor’s pupils dilate, his mouth runs dry and he feels like something in his body had momentarily stopped working or had broken entirely — he knows that trademark act of obeisance so well — you’ve perfectly captured the image of a younger version of his wife who had perfected royal protocol in just under a year when they got married. She must have sought to teach you everything she knew or rather she was forced to learn by herself when she was in your position in an act of true esprit de corps. And for a moment, he finds himself surrendering to your doe-eyed but unmistakably poised charm, and he starts to become more convinced that you were a worthy future daughter-in-law.

He shakes his head, swiftly snapping him out of his trance, now was not the time for these things. The emperor nods back to return the gesture before turning to leave, just as your attendants are about to arrive to get you ready for the ceremony. “We’ll see you in the cathedral, then, (Y/N).”

But as soon as he is halfway out the door, he turns back to look at you one last time as (Y/N) (L/N), for the next time he will see you, you will then be (Y/N) Gojo, his first daughter-in-law, the first royal bride in centuries who neither hails from a family of politicians nor influential persons alike, the icon of a new chapter for the imperial family.

He sighs, turning back around to face you, having almost forgotten the task he’d been entrusted with by his wife. “I almost forgot. Ijichi,” he calls to his faithful grand steward who is waiting outside your chambers to bring forth a rather special gift he and the empress intended to present to you after the ceremony but he figured now might be a good time. The tall, lanky and sickly-looking spectacled man known as Ijichi bows before you which leaves a strange feeling festering within you, he was carrying a navy blue felt case that seemed so valuable that he had been compelled to wear gloves to prevent his bare hands from touching the fine fabric.

The emperor motions to open the case and your face pales when you see what is inside. “This is intended to be worn by the Princess Royal on her wedding day but since I don’t have a daughter to give that title to, the title will now belong to you.”

The tiara in his hands is a hefty thing, molded entirely from the most of valuable of silvers, it resembled the Queen Mary Fringe Tiara that had been worn by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II on her wedding day, with an abundance of baton diamonds dotting every conceivable nook and cranny. It takes some time for you to adjust when it is placed upon your head, it only weighed a modest 1.7 kilograms, it was much lighter than the many tiaras the family keeps hidden away in the imperial vaults but for someone like you, it is an awfully heavy thing not just in the literal sense but also in the figurative side of things.

As of this moment, you weren’t just an ordinarily forgettable face in a crowd anymore.

“Carry the weight.” The emperor’s voice is commandeering. He steps back, scanning how the tiara looks on you from afar and though it looked awkwardly placed on your head with how you are struggling to balance its weight, you still managed to carry it adequately. “Now…you’re one of us.”

8:55 AM.

“Need some help?”

Satoru looks up to inspect the reflection on the mirror and a sad smile crosses his face when he sees the familiar figure of Himiko leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest as she gazes at her beloved getting ready for his wedding day. “You don’t have to be here.” He begrudgingly fumbles with his collar, unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he professes, despite having immeasurably hurt you these past couple of days instead.

Himiko shakes her head. There was no use in grumbling about it now when just on the other side of the palace, Satoru’s unworthy bride-to-be was being pampered by her many ladies with manicures, foot massages, and practically anything to make you happy while she, the prince’s true love, was condemned to watch him be cruelly given away to someone else. There was a sense of finality with how hundreds of palace staff rushed through the hallways carrying all sorts of wedding paraphernalia to decorate the Chowaden reception hall and the courtyard to welcome the wedding guests.

Satoru frowns when her hands find his collar, she skillfully untangles the ribbon medal and readjusts the silver emerald-studded necklace that came with it.

Please…just one more minute…one more minute with you, Satoru closes his eyes as Himiko’s thumbs tentatively rub his chiseled cheek as if she were memorizing every bump and every curve of his skin before someone else tries to claim that they know every bit of Satoru inside and out. She knows it will never be true, no one can ever know Satoru the way she intimately knows him, not even if he was going to marry another woman. It may be possible for you steal everything from her — the emperor and empress’s favor, the public’s warm approval, the ring that had been fitted to accommodate the size of her finger before it was given to you — it may have been easy for you to pull the rug from underneath her, but it would be difficult — no, impossible — for you to ever claim ownership of Satoru.

He was hers and she was his, Satoru leans against Himiko’s touch, sighing woefully. “I’ll make her pay, I promise. I’ll break her, destroy her again. And again. And again until nothing’s left of her,” he recites the promise, punctuating the words with a kiss every time, as if they were having an illicit wedding of their own, and his words were a marriage vow — the only one that he will honor with every fiber of his being. Himiko bites her lower lip before she slowly nods, appeased.

“But Satoru, marrying her is the only way for you to be restored as heir apparent. Either way, we can’t win without doing this your father’s way.” Her hands leave his collar and she sadly gazes out the window, her narrow eyes glazing over the ancient ginkgo tree at the center of the palace’s vast atrium which was now shedding their green leaves to take on the tell-tale yellow hue as autumn draws near. She always loved the view of the palace courtyard from above, especially in this room where she and Satoru spent many nights proving their love for one another.

Gojo frowns at her melancholia, he comes up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’ll think of something, I promise this won’t last longer than it needs to,” he kisses her cheek, nuzzling it with his nose tenderly.

“I don’t mind waiting, Satoru, I’d wait for you forever, and as much as we both hate her, we need (Y/N),” she spits out your name as if it were rat poison in her mouth. “So, let’s just play along. It’s not like we’re not used to meeting in deserted parking lots at midnight, right?” She offers him a half-smile, reminding Satoru that their entire affair has always been illicit in nature.

It’s not like she was accepted by his parents to be their son’s future consort. They’ve been through this before, hundreds of times rather, even before you came along. They’ve had to deal with so many forces ripping them apart over the past three years from the oh-so-omnipotent emperor who hardly wields any political power to his neurotic wife whom she has called, on several occasions, a bitch.

And yet, together they remained as it has always been, with Satoru cradling Himiko in his arms as he peppers kisses up her neck, sucking at the soft flesh, his hips flush against hers. He does this in front of the window for any unfortunate passerby to see. Hell, Satoru was hoping you’d walk by and see this heartbreaking display and maybe you’ll just run home in your wedding dress with your tail between your legs.

“We don’t have to get used to it, Himiko,” he mumbles into her neck, inhaling her sweet perfume, the one he liked the most. “One day, we won’t have to hide anymore,” he kisses her cheek tenderly, caressing the bone of her wrists which still bore faint marks from the handcuffs that had been wrongfully placed on her with his thumb. “And people can say whatever they want about us, and it wouldn’t matter because I will have been the emperor by then and you, my empress.” He presses their foreheads together, the tips of their noses barely touching in a moment of silence.

After a long while, Satoru lets go of Himiko, his eyes scanning hers as if he were searching for answers hidden deep within her soul. “What is it?”

“I just wish you hadn’t stepped in back there.” It was a thought that kept him awake these past agonizing nights. “Maybe if you just stayed out of my father’s office, this wouldn’t have happened. I was alright with you visiting me in my jail cell, you know.”

“As if I’d ever let that happen,” she sighs when he pulls away to fasten his cufflinks, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened at the loss of his touch. She kisses his cheek, looking at his reflection through the mirror, her eyes alight with adoration. “I promised I’d always be your ally, didn’t I?”

When she and Satoru first met three years ago in the selection for his chief-of-staff, Himiko Zenin, despite coming from the affluent Zenin clan, lagged behind compared to her contenders who aced the exams that tested their knowledge on the law, constitution, history of the imperial system, royal protocol, foreign languages and other aspects that may prove useful for the prince’s right hand. But there was one thing that she had that all the other applicants didn’t have, and she demonstrated that perfectly when Satoru unexpectedly dropped by during the final interviews to speak to each of the candidates himself.

Satoru stared at Himiko with a bored expression that day, his being devoid of any emotion. “Ms. Zenin, it seems you did poorly in all of the exams,” he glances at her file which should have been tossed in the bin by the time she placed last in the jurisprudence exam. “And you’re affiliated with one of the more morally ambiguous families in the country. Looks like today’s just not your day, huh?”

It was true. Having Himiko Zenin as his chief of staff was dangerous from the get-go. The Zenin clan’s head back then during the time of the selection was on trial for graft and corruption. But, there was something Himiko had that all the other applicants did not. At the time, he couldn’t quite put a finger on it but now, after years of selfless service to him, Satoru realizes that it was the ferocious loyalty that hid underneath her then perfectly ordinary shell which he personally refined into the gem of a woman she is now, and she never swore allegiance to the crown but rather to him, Satoru Gojo.

“But, I’ll indulge you,” he reclined against his chair that day, his arms crossed. “Why should I even consider you as my chief of staff? What can you offer me that the others before you cannot?”

Her answer to that question instantly won him over and in that instant, Himiko’s life had changed forever. “Whatever you ask of me, Your Royal Highness, I’d give my very life for you.”

Satoru turns away from the mirror, his lips instantly on hers. His hand dangerously hovered over the hem of her dress. “S-Satoru, what are you doing?” she moans into his mouth as Satoru moves both of them to the bed, he climbs atop of her as she lay on the mattress, her locks splayed over the silk sheets. She knows what he’s doing, this was almost like a film she has seen many times before; this was how tense conversations with Gojo go with him impatiently parting her legs, their hands desperately discarding their clothes until they are left utterly bare before one another.

He wanted to destroy you the same way you destroyed what he had with Himiko. This anger translated into his rough pace. He roughly jostles his hips against Himiko’s, her arms wrapping around him as he buries his cock inside her, his lips covering her milky flesh with dark-purplish bruises, marking her as his.

Call him a sadist but he hopes that Himiko would change into a dress that could flaunt her marked skin so that when you fearfully look around the cathedral, warily searching for her, your heart would break at the sight of the countless hickeys on her neck and collar. He wanted to see you cry the first of the many tears you will shed for the crime of marrying him.

“Satoru…!” she cries out as the luscious feeling of his girth pistoning in and out of her. He grunts as he feels him inch closer and closer to his high. “Mmph—‘Toru,” she whines when he reangles his hips, plunging deeper into her, his arms locking behind hers as he violently chases his release. He’s so close. “I love you, I love you…-a-ah!”

A symphony of pleasured groans falls from his lips, his very being uncoiling as he cums. His hips involuntarily keep thrusting as hot spurts of his cum drips down Himiko’s entrance, mixing with her own release. Himiko frowns as Satoru clicks his tongue at the soiled sheets beneath their connected forms. He groans as he pulls out, sinking into the warmth of her embrace, his still hardened cock poking her inner thigh. “Promise me you’ll only love me?” she whispers as her fingers absentmindedly play with his white hair.

“I promise,” Gojo murmurs into the crook of her neck as he lulled to sleep by her soft, even breaths. “I promise it’s only you…no one else.”

11:45 AM.

Only half an hour left. A crowd of, from what you have heard, 70,000 have gathered on the strip of the main road that the bridal car will pass en route to the cathedral.

“It’s true,” your maid of honor who people refer to as Ieiri says, showing you her phone which showed the many tweets from news agencies, famous personalities and normal people alike about how excited they were to witness your wedding day. There were countless social media posts consisting of yours and Satoru’s official engagement picture and many have taken to hosting their own live-streaming sessions of this monumental day.

“Everyone’s so excited. I wish my wedding would be this big,” one of your bridesmaids sighs dreamily. You manage a small chuckle at her, maybe if she knew of your plight right now, she would probably be eating those words alongside the many petit fours she’s been munching on this past hour. “Look at all those people,” she continues scrolling through her phone.

“It’s the first televised imperial wedding so obviously, it’s a big deal, Riko,” Utahime laughs. “Not to mention, it’s the first time a member of the imperial family would be married in a Western-themed ceremony.” For everyone to see.

One of your newly appointed helpers enters the room, and jogs over to you as quickly as she can in her heels, she has a small jewelry box delicately decorated in an ecru gift wrapper in her hand. “Ms. (Y/N), this is from the prince. His butler told me to give this to you.” You’ve been sad all day and your ladies-in-waiting heave a sigh of relief when they see a hint of a smile on your face, even if it did hold a bit of apprehension.

“Really? For me?” You stand up to accept the small token, careful not to ruffle your wedding dress too much as per the dressmaker’s instructions since the fabric used to construct the piece was susceptible to crumpling. Momentarily setting your phone down on the vanity table mid-text, you graciously accept the wedding gift. Maybe Satoru was starting to warm up to you and that he is now chipping away at the wall he built between the two of you. You hoped that by sending you this gift, this would be the start of something new and better with your husband.

But given how things are, that would be impossible. This was probably just a gift he sent to appease you after many days of effectively acting like you don’t exist.

You open the box and your ladies chatter around you excitedly. “It’s so pretty!” the youngest of your bridesmaids, the daughter of the Japanese ambassador to France apparently, marvels at the pair of earrings. Briefly smiling at her, you then turn your attention to the small letter that was neatly slotted between the groove of the box’s padded interior that held the earrings in place. His handwriting was so conscientiously beautiful that it almost looked like a computer-generated font, there wasn’t a hint of clumsiness in each stroke.

“To (Y/N),

I’m sorry about these past few days. This won’t make up for it, but, I’d like to join you in wishing for a successful marriage together.

– HRH Satoru Gojo”

Your heart slows at the cold closing. He had omitted the words “love” and “sincerely” before his name, but you expected that. If scraps of affection are all you could ever hope to get out of him, you have to learn to deal with it sooner or later; this was your life now, you will always be second to the love of his life. It must have taken everything out of him, and it must have caused an argument to erupt between him and Himiko, to send you this and you understand that he’s also having a difficult time with how things are now but it mattered so much to you to see him try. Regardless if this gift was given to you freely or not, you couldn’t refuse it, even if every voice in your head was screaming at you, reminding you of the horrific scene you saw that day when you caught your fiancé kissing another woman out in the open immediately after you announced your engagement.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” Riko asks. “I’m sure the prince will be happy to see you wear these.”

“You really think so?” you wince when your helper struggles to find your earlobe piercing. “I didn’t know he could be so sweet.” That’s obviously a lie; you know full well Satoru could be sweet, it just pained you to remember that he’s capable being sweet to another deliberately causing you immense grief. Your helper stiffens slightly. She has seen him become sweet before, albeit to another, but she didn’t have to divulge any details and accidentally ruin your wedding day.

She nods shyly, succeeding with the first diamond earring and then the other. She steps away from the mirror. You looked radiant. “Y-yes.”

Noticing her discomfort, you expertly steer the conversation elsewhere. “I see. Well I should probably return the favor.”

You’ve gotten Satoru a wristwatch you and the empress had personally had commissioned by a famed watchmaker that could rival the craftsmanship of a Rolex. It just arrived last night and well, given your current mental state then having taken the brunt of Satoru’s ire the past few days, you couldn’t bring yourself to wrap it. Momentarily deciding if you still had time to have one of your helpers buy some wrapping paper, you realized it would be cutting it too close so you hastily scribbled on a blank dedication card you randomly plucked from one of the bouquets you received. Luckily, some of them had extra cards.

“To Your Royal Highness,

Please don’t apologize, I’m sorry too for being pushy lately. Thank you for the gift, I’ll be sure to take good care of it. Happy wedding day, and I’m looking forward to better days together!

Wholeheartedly yours,

(Y/N) (L/N)”

Reading through it one last time, you affix your name at the end. “You guys are so sweet,” your youngest bridesmaid gushes as she presses a button on the room’s telephone to request for a butler. “I’m sure the prince will love it.”

“Whatever ‘sweet’ means.” You grimace, your unease getting the better of you. A few moments later, a butler peeks into the room. You bound over to him, placing the present in his hands. “Could you please give this to Prince Satoru?” you asked him and the butler looks slightly bewildered at your choice of words. If it was an order, you could have just said so. Perhaps you were still getting used to the idea of having people waiting to attend to your every beck and call.

“Right away, ma’am,” the butler replies obediently nonetheless. “Also I ran into His Majesty’s chamberlain just a while back and he asked me to remind you of the time. Everything’s ready,” he informs you just as he turns to leave in the direction of the palace’s east wing where Satoru's private chambers are. Upon hearing that, the bridal entourage starts to get ready to leave ahead of you, they’ll be going to the venue with a separate convoy from the bride’s since you’ll be driving through some of Tokyo’s major avenues en route to the cathedral.

You watch as they file out of the room in their cream dresses, each one of them, despite having known you for only a little less than half a day, pull you into a bone-crushing hug wishing you well. “Congratulations, (Y/N).”

“Thank you,” you kindly smiled at each one of them as they left.

When you are left alone to your devices, you take one last look at (though you could hardly recognize yourself) the mirror, swallowing harshly, your hand absentmindedly playing with the locket which you continued to wear, ignoring the gracious advice of the Imperial Household Agency’s grand steward to set it aside for today’s festivities as it was uncustomary for royal brides to wear articles of clothing and accessories that did not hold any relation to the imperial family.

Only thirty minutes to go ‘till everything changes. Wait no, that was grossly inaccurate. Everything changed the split second you laid your eyes on him. Since then, everything seems to be a jumbled haze like some sort of psychedelic trance that just won’t end. Reaching for your phone one last time, you hastily search for a particular contact number, your finger hovering over the call button. No, there’s no point, you sniffle softly. Calling her would only make things harder than it already is and backing out of this now is out of the question.

Another knock is heard on the door, but it isn’t as insistent as the first few ones as everyone was starting to get a bit frustrated at you. Did they think you were stalling for time? “Just a minute,” your voice wavers. You just received a new text message from the number you were planning to call.

“We’ll be moving her in a few hours. Will send you her new room number when we get there.”

Bringing the phone to your lips, your heart makes somersaults in your chest when you receive the news. The sacrifice you were still yet to make has already paid off and your ledger of personal favors crossed out with a red marker effectively completing your transaction with the empress. Without even giving you time to text a quick “thank you”, another urgent knock is heard on the door. “Ms. (Y/N), I’m very sorry to interrupt but, we should get going now.”

“I’ll be right there,” you said again, quickly typing another message on your phone: “I wish I was there with her. Please hold her hand for me.” The second it goes through, you quickly shuffled towards the door, your head bowed in apology. You hold your breath as you balance the tiara on your head hoping that it won’t fall as it hangs precariously off-center on the crown of your head, your eyes trained on the ground as the door slides open. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries, I’m pretty patient. Ijichi, on the other hand? Not so much.”

His voice is feather-soft and melodious like a harp string being plucked delicately so that it produces a clear and deep bell-like sound, the very language he chooses to speak with is devoid of neither a shrill nor sharp word unlike the fusillade of orders you’ve been mercilessly bombarded with this entire day. Walk like this, speak like that, don’t do this, and most certainly never do that, you must have gone through a decade’s worth of rules and regulations to follow during the ceremony and even after you’ve said your “I do”’s. Still, you found solace knowing that Satoru is slowly warming up to the idea of cooperating with you, and has even found it in his heart to give you an olive branch of sorts which was now hooped through your earlobes, sparkling under the light like a clear drop of water from the sky.

At first, you naively think it’s him. Did Satoru really come over to see you? While that seemed uncharacteristic of him, the very thought of him voluntarily visiting you planted a sense of relief in you regardless. Maybe he wanted to settle things before the ceremony, to be upfront with you about his intentions in this marriage, how the two of you will be towards one another going forward, and if your luck holds out, maybe he’d finally let you in on his acts of impropriety with Himiko.

But, you would recognize Satoru’s indifferent timbre anywhere, this voice was far too different and seemed much kinder and softer than your fiancé’s.

You slowly open the door to greet your guest, confirming your suspicions as you meet the gaze of a man you haven’t met before. He seems severely unfamiliar.

No, wait. That can’t be it, he may seem unfamiliar but he’s definitely recognizable. In fact, you’ve seen him a few times before, standing feebly next to your fiance during the emperor’s birthday broadcast. Then, it clicks. Wasn't this…?

“Crown Prince Suguru?” you blinked. He’s the only senior member of the imperial family that you’ve never been officially introduced to. Of course, you are on speaking terms with the emperor, the empress and of course, Satoru, but never the prince that idly lingered in their large shadows.

The raven-haired man chuckles deeply at your shocked expression. Clearly, you didn’t expect to meet him under these circumstances, and that caused you to accidentally refer to him as the Crown Prince when that title only belonged to Gojo. He looks at you endearingly, finding you intriguing.

So this was the woman his younger brother is to be married to. Suguru has heard a lot about Satoru’s docile bride-to-be, in fact, he received news of the engagement while he was in Rome, the last leg of his first solo tour in Europe. People were so quick to label it as a pivotal point in the history of the Japanese monarchy and that you are the symbol of change, specifically, they likened you to a camellia blooming in a sea of chrysanths, a breath of spring in the imperial family’s everwinter – alluring in every sense of the word. But, alluring isn’t exactly a word he’d use to describe you seeing as you’ve only just met but, right now, he found you to be so adorably cute that he might just start to believe the things they say about you on the news.

“It’s just Prince Suguru. Satoru’s the Crown Prince.” The gentle correction makes you so flustered that you feel blood rush up to your ears, a tell-tale sign of your abasement. “But you could just call me Suguru.”

“Oh, right, my mistake,” you rub your eyelid, growing embarrassed. “Prince Suguru,” you stressed his correct title, remedying your earlier mishap. Despite you being in heels, you can’t see past him, given that he towered over you so easily so you stand on your tallest tiptoes, trying to peek over his shoulder. “You haven’t happened to see Mr. Ijichi, have you? He was right outside the door a few minutes ago.”

Suguru buries his hands in his pockets. “He just left, you’re welcome,” he winks at you, having sent Ijichi on his way when he accidentally stumbled across him furiously tapping on your door as he was making his way to his car.

Ijichi was…difficult to get along with — he’s short-fused, demanding at some times, and he is what people could call a stickler for the rules — Suguru isn’t doesn’t really want to say nasty words about his father’s grand steward and he’d give credit where it’s due since Ijichi is not just efficient when it comes to running the imperial household but he is also fiercely dedicated to every member of the imperial family.

Still, he couldn’t count the many times Ijichi had to scold him for all the mischief he caused while he was growing up even if his life depended on it. The worst scolding he got from the older man was when Suguru went missing on his fifth birthday, having snuck out of the banquet hall with at least ten pieces of bread stuffed in his pockets with every intention to feed them to the many ducks in the imperial garden’s ponds.

“What?” your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, you were going to get an earful later. “You mean he went ahead without me?”

“It’s alright. You’ll see him later, sure he’s probably going to talk your ear off but he means well, trust me,” Suguru flashes you a reassuring smile.

You look at him, your lip curled into an uneasy grin. “That doesn’t sound like fun,” you bemoaned, having had enough reprimands to last you until your next life. “So, with Mr. Ijichi gone, forgive my bluntness, but am I right to assume that Your Highness will be the one to bring me to the cathedral?”

Suguru accommodatingly holds out his arm for you to hold onto. “You assume correctly,” he says warmly. You expect him to hurriedly lead you down the steps leading to the palace’s main driveway, but he does something entirely different. “Are you ready to go or do you still need more time?”

That was the first time anyone in a kilometer-wide radius has asked you what you want to do instead of telling you what to do.

Suguru watches every small change in your expression. He figured that you must be pretty tired of people treating you like some robot, training you to blindly obey every order perfectly. The jet black-haired prince has only known you for two minutes and his heart is already disintegrating for your current predicament of feeling completely and entirely alone. If he could alleviate your troubles even with just a small act of kindness by engaging in polite conversation with you and actually listening to what you have to say instead of talking over you like most of your etiquette coaches have done all day, then, he’ll gladly tune in to listen to you even as you read through an entire book of sonnets if you ever felt up to it.

Being validated comes a long way, and if anyone understands your plight, it was him and even if he didn’t understand, he’ll do everything he can to try regardless.

“I-I’m ready,” you nodded hesitantly and Suguru doesn’t walk ahead right away and allows you to set the pace as you walk past the line of attendants that bowed to you and the prince as you made your way to the imperial family’s very own Toyota Century convertible which had been custom-made for you.

The open top roof gave onlookers access to see their future empress as the motorcade departs from the Kōkyo Imperial Palace and follows a 4.6-kilometer route that will travel to the St. Mary’s Cathedral, the seat of the Roman Catholic archdiocese of Tokyo. Neither you nor Satoru were practicing Catholics yet, the imperial family has decided that a Christian-themed wedding rather than the ancient Buddhist matrimonial ceremony that is usually done away from public view would make the imperial system appear more accessible to the people.

Suguru helps you into the car, gently arranging the train of your gown so that it doesn’t get all wrinkled. “Thank you, Your Highness” you whisper to Suguru who squeezes your free hand as if to say “you’re welcome”. The car’s engine hums to life the minute the two of you are settled in the backseat. “W-what am I supposed to do now?” you asked, readjusting your grip on your bridal bouquet.

The prince lets out a humored snort, having forgotten that this was your first official function. Showing you the correct way to wave and the right angle to face and bow to the crowd, he watches you closely, allowing you to struggle for a bit before stepping in to help with some encouraging words. “Just keep smiling and waving. It’s just like being onstage, you know.” At the center of the motorcade, six police cars patrol every side of the convertible forming a ring of protection just in case someone in the crowd with ill-intentions would try to harm either you or the monarch next to you.

Countless people erupt in happy cheers at the sight of you and Suguru, some are simply content with waving while others are holding up flowers and tossing them to the front of the crowd barriers in jubilation. “It feels a little more intense than just being onstage,” you mumbled, your eyes landing on a little girl sitting in her mother’s arms as she waves a little Japanese flag in her hand which looked like she made it in her arts and craft class. You awkwardly wave at her, chuckling when she happily waves back, delighted to see you directly looking at her.

“Well, you’re doing great.” He inches closer to you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist while the other guides your hand, gently angling it in a more prominent position so that you look a little more assertive. “Like this,” Suguru helps you wave in a more continuous manner, teaching you to center the motion by keeping your elbow mostly stationary and allowing only your wrist to subtly move from side to side. “And keep doing what you’re doing. Make eye contact with them; make them understand that you see each and every one of them.”

Suguru watches you bow and wave to the spectators with a proud smile on his face; the motorcade has now reached the Shinjuku area and is nearing its destination of Bunkyo-ku where the cathedral is and even still, the crowd doesn’t appear to thin out. Suguru feels like he’s watching history unfold before his very eyes. He wonders if Satoru had purposefully chosen a commoner to conjure up a classic “love conquers all” romance of his own wedding day, if he did, then Suguru must congratulate him for a job well done. No one has ever come out to see a member of the imperial family in this sheer number, he daresay, not even the empress on her wedding day or His Majesty on his coronation day.

But with you, this day is nothing short of a revolution.

“Your Highness, you’re staring.” Suguru hums, confused, before realizing that he’s been looking at you funny. “You’re still staring,” you said succinctly.

“Oh, sorry.” Suguru says awkwardly and you couldn’t help but let out a slight snort. “What?” he cocks his head in your direction. You were laughing, though brief, the very sound of it brings a smile to his face. “It was about time though. We’ve been in this car for more than fifteen minutes now and that right there is the first genuine act of happiness I’ve seen you make,” he remarks. He was starting to think that you were incapable of smiling which he found a little unsettling since brides aren’t exactly despondent during their wedding day. Of course, what would he know? His little brother had gotten married ahead of him.

You crinkle your nose in mock displeasure. “That’s kinda mean and probably the last thing I’d say to someone I just met…with all due respect, Your Highness.”

Suguru grins at your tiny jab at his character, and to think that he nearly bought into the whole “as demure as a butterfly” thing they said about you in the papers. Make no mistake though, he sees how elegantly ladylike you are, but he also sees how you are so effortlessly spellbinding with your wit translated into a few short but sweet words. No wonder Satoru fell for you and even gave up his vice-like romance with his chief-of-staff to marry you, he thinks to himself. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry that was a bit uncalled for.”

“Oh— Your Highness, I was just joking.” You waved to the crowd of people on Suguru’s side of the car, grimacing when you see a few schoolboys, probably university students with how tall and mature they looked, pretend to blow you kisses. Indulging them, you subtly return the gesture flustered beyond all measure. Everything feels so public now, and you are left wondering about how you could survive the rest of your life like this.

“…I knew that.” Choosing momentary silence, Suguru finally decides to chip away at the facade you were putting up. He could see it in your eyes, you were a cross between scared and unhappy which is clearly normal for someone who is marrying into the oldest monarchy in the world. You weren’t at all what the members of the Imperial Household Agency said of you when you were out of earshot: a sorry excuse of a future empress who is privileged in every way but can’t find it within herself to stop her endless complaining. “Just trying to make you smile, that’s all.”

Shouldn’t your future husband be doing that? You sighed. Oh right, he was probably busy comforting Himiko. She probably needed him now more than ever after everything you’ve done to torment her. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Suguru,” he corrects kindly. “If you’re going to marry my little brother, you could, at least, drop the troublesome title when you’re talking to me.”

Little brother? How have you never heard of this before? You knew Satoru had a brother, but you never thought Suguru would be the older one out of the two of them. If that was the case, then, why didn’t he get the title of “Crown Prince”?

“Weird, huh?” He breaks you out of your trance, as if he heard the question swirling around in your head. “Why is Satoru the Crown Prince and not me?”

“Are you psychic or something?” you playfully teased, slowly growing more comfortable with the jet black-haired prince that sported an Apollo-like smile - warm, and inviting. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Suguru shrugs. “Why? Whose mind do you want to read?”

Satoru’s, you smiled sadly. Maybe by unraveling the inner machinations of your soon-to-be husband’s mind, you could learn to meet him halfway by understanding him a little better; no person is born inherently cruel and while you had your doubts, you know, in your heart, that Satoru is no exception to that rule. “No one in particular.”

“Ah, well, I expected that.” He grinned at how guarded you are, reclining against the plush seat of the car to rest his stiffening back for a minute. The convoy is about ten minutes away from the cathedral now.

You offered him some consolation though, grateful for this light-hearted chat. “Let’s just trade answers next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Himiko thought this day would be horrible but it turns out it isn’t as bad as she pessimistically thought. If she only knew that this was how the love of her life’s wedding would go with him still inviting her to his bed before he gets hitched off, then, maybe she shouldn’t have been so awful towards you who never stood a chance against her. Competing with you would be like making a rival of a rat; it would be unnecessary trouble. Still, even if she had all but won against you (as if you were worthy enough to even become her opponent), that didn’t stop the Zenin clan’s little darling from causing a little trouble today.

Her eyes flutter open to reveal Gojo’s handsome slumbering face, utterly spent from their lovemaking session, their naked forms still entangled together under the cotton-percale sheets. She stretches her supple body luxuriously, and pulls away from Satoru’s embrace earning a small “mmph” of disapproval from her lover. Giggling, she plants a soft kiss on his chiseled cheek.

“Your Highness?” Someone says from behind the door. Taking one last look at Satoru’s sleeping form, she walks leisurely to answer it, clad only in the prince’s shirt which ran above her knee.

Leaning against the door, she answers for the prince, a detestable act similar to a cardinal sin. It was forbidden for a mere servant to speak for any member of the imperial family. In the past, in the Japanese empire’s golden age, a servant who took the words out of their master’s mouth would have their tongue swiftly sliced off. But Himiko is not a servant, nor is she subject to the rules as long as the prince was around. “His Highness is asleep.”

On his wedding day? The butler nods stiffly. “I see. Ms. Zenin, can I trouble you with this? The prince’s fiancé has sent him a wedding gift.”

Himiko doesn’t answer for a long while and a tense silence fills the room. “Fine, but have you done what I asked?” she relents opening the door, the butler’s face turns red at the sight of her lack of modesty. “Having you run my errands isn’t cheap, you know.”

The attendant bows his head, “Yes. She’s currently wearing it right now, last I saw.”

“Good. I’ll be taking this then.” She shakes the box to get a feel of what’s inside, not that it would be anything of high value though given its cheap sender.

Curiosity gets the better of her and she succinctly opens the gift, her eyebrow quirked. A watch. Very typical. She notes how it’s made out of silver and she scoffs harshly. Even if she didn’t chuck it into the trash, Satoru would have done it himself since he prefers gold pieces over silver and he most certainly wouldn’t want to touch anything that was from you given how he loathed the very idea of you.

The attendant gulps when he sees Himiko harshly discard your gift. “Ms. Zenin, don’t you think that giving her that would be taking it too far? You know how the Crown Prince feels about those earrings. If he ever were to find out that it had gone missing…”

She turns her head in the direction of the bed where Gojo was currently tossing and turning in his sleep. “Then, I’ll tell His Highness that his chief butler,” her eyes were aglow with cunning as the butler trembled slightly at her murderous gaze. “Is a thief who stole from the imperial vaults, and if you ever decide to rat me out, who do you think the prince will believe? A nameless no account like you or me?”

It slowly registers in the attendant’s mind that he had been utterly played when Himiko asked him to give those earrings to you via an under the table agreement, it’s not like Satoru prepared a wedding gift for you anyway thinking that showing up to the accursed wedding in itself is a generous gift already. “…You used me…!” he whispers angrily, not wanting to rouse the prince.

Himiko shrugs nonchalantly. “And you were stupid enough to be used for a few banknotes. Now get lost, I’ll just inform His Highness of your voluntary resignation tomorrow morning.”

She closes the door on the rattled servant and saunters back over to the bed, slipping back under the sheets. Satoru sleepily notices the bed dip with her weight, and unconsciously snuggles closer to her, his arms wrapped around her form. She lovingly strokes his disheveled hair alternating between twirling his locks in her index finger and massaging his scalp as if she hadn’t just ruined a man’s life two minutes ago. Her hands reach for the phone on the nightstand and she scrolls through her feed watching a video of the bridal car pulling up to the cathedral.

She boredly watches you step out of the car with your hand looped through Suguru’s arm shyly waving to the thousands happily anticipating this glorious day while your bridesmaids help you with your wedding gown’s train so it doesn’t snag across the concrete steps. It takes about five minutes for the cathedral’s towering doors to open and she smirks when she sees you slowly make your way inside, completely oblivious to the fact that your groom is not at the end of the aisle where you expected him to be and is instead still soundly asleep next to her.

The silence that follows is indicative of the horrific scene that greeted you and Himiko switches off her phone, settling back into the pillows contentedly. Serves you right, (Y/N), she smirks.

12:30 PM.

Funny how you think that you’re immune to awful things that happen to other people…before it happens to you. There’ve been hundreds of stories like this before, but you never thought that you’d find yourself in the long list of unfortunate jilted brides. Your hands tremble as you hold your bouquet of white calla lilies and baby’s breaths. Surely you must have gone blind or something or this was all some sick dream, you desperately search the cathedral room with abject horror in your eyes. It couldn’t be…you take an uneasy step toward the witness as your wedding guests whisper amongst themselves, their hearts filled to the brim with condolences for you.

Something in you jeeringly mocks you as if to chide you for living too long in the forest of your fantasy, dodging every pocket of reality’s sunlight as it shines through the many trees you’ve cultivated with your delusions that this…whatever the hell this is…could miraculously work out in the end. That you stood a chance against all the cards that were catastrophically stacked against you, and that he could give you even just a scintilla of respect if it was truly impossible for him to ever learn to love you.

“Suguru,” you instinctively clutch his hand as if by him squeezing your hand back, you could miraculously be put together again. You were so heartbroken that you didn't even realize that you just called him by his name, forgoing the mention of his venerable title. “…I-I…” you gulp as you feel the dreaded words lodge deep in your throat, clogging your airways with uncried sobs.

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m so sorry…”

“…Where’s Satoru?”

water’s edge taglist: @dummyf @kentokaze @esthelily @mandysfanfics @userbananababes @strawberryjimin13 @snowprincesa1 @naturallyspontaneous @kooromin @gojoist @dcvilxswish @13-09-01 @peachipeachy @iluv-ace @sawendel @helloitsshitzulover @jjuniescuderia @ackermendick @starrylibras @timetobegone @heelariously @idktbhloley @jeon-blue @8aif9sgbsnn @purpleguk @rednezvous @yeseurri @floralsightings @yoheyyosup @dontwannacry04 @dragonladyy

REBLOGS AND INTERACTIONS IS WHAT KEEPS AUTHORS GOING SO SHOW SOME LOVE ✨💕 mwah! see you all in episode 2.5!

let’s talk, shall we?

it’s no secret that tumblr writers have been leaving or deactivating their blogs, especially in the last year or two. and i think the reason why is even less of a secret.

the fact that writers have to practically beg for feedback and interaction on a site where they post their works for FREE is ridiculous. the fact that most of the people who are reading and consuming these works don’t even spare 10 seconds to add a nice tag to their reblog (if they even bother to do that) is borderline enraging. this is tumblr, not instagram or twitter. likes on tumblr do nothing for the writer. i don’t care if you think that it helps them appear in the tags, or if you think that seeing yet another “___ liked your post” is encouraging to them, because it doesn’t and its not.

and speaking of likes, why is the ratio of likes to reblogs so fucking huge? and before you think i’m being dramatic, lets take a look at some of the notes from my own works.

at the time of me writing this, my one-shot, dream lover, has 821 notes. that’s pretty good right? but let’s see how many are empty likes and how many are reblogs.

769 likes.

52 reblogs.

out of those 52 reblogs, 35 of them are empty. no tag, no comment.

one of my reactions currently has 2,038 notes. you may be thinking that’s a lot, which it is and i’m incredibly thankful for how many notes i’ve gotten on it. but how many are likes and how many are reblogs?

1,924 likes.

113 reblogs.

out of those 113 reblogs, 81 of them are empty.

one of my headcanons currently has 1,110 notes.

1,069 likes.

41 reblogs.

28 of those 41 reblog are empty.

why is it so hard to reblog things and give feedback?

“oh but it won’t fit my blog theme!” if you’re so fucking concerned about what your precious tumblr blog looks like, then send an ask. they’re just as appreciated.

“i don’t know what to say tho!” we’re not asking you to be shakespeare. if you’re really that no thoughts head empty just put a keyboard smash, if nothing else.

“but i’m shy and embarrassed!” the anonymous option is there for a reason, and most writers have it turned on. being shy when you have the option of keeping your identity a secret is no excuse.

and yes, i’m aware that some writers don’t have the anon option on, which brings me to my final point.

stop. demanding.

if a writer has requests open, be a decent human being and use your manners. going into their inbox and saying “____’s reaction of this.” is no way to request something. saying please, thank you, or even “hey, could you do a reaction of _____?” is a thousand times better than just telling them what you want them to write.

writers spend hours of their time and energy to write things for you to read, and leaving an empty like is meaningless to them.

if your liked a writer’s works, reblog them and maybe add some nice fucking tags while you’re at or send an ask to them about it. because sooner or later, after so many likes and barely any interaction, more and more writers are going to leave.

stop making them desperate for any spare crumb of interaction and start leaving feedback if you love these writers so much.

I miss sukuna—i miss jjk fr 🤧🙏🏻

Good lawd

better view on X

golden 🍆🍆on patre0n

professor geto + gojo will always be one of my most favorite things 😌🫶🏻

Hey! I really liked the fun facts about Geto from s&c, and I was wondering if you could do some headcanons about him? 👉👈

professor!geto headcanons sfw + nsfw (based on this fic)

sfw

x professor!geto who has this whole coffee ritual. like specific beans. perfect grind, even monitors the temperature. don't mess with it unless you want to face a angry, sleep-deprived neurosurgeon.

x professor!geto who has a resting face that can be misinterpreted as perpetually annoyed. this often makes new interns stumble over their words.

x professor!geto who isn't overly verbal with affection, but he always shows it with little touches and acts of service. whether it's making you a cup of tea just the way you like it or reaching out to hold your hand as you walk together.

x professor!geto who has a fiercely protective side when it comes to you. it's not overbearing, but he does keep a constant watchful eye to make sure you're safe. also he's not the jealous type.

x professor!geto who's humor is so dry you can't tell if he was joking or straight-up insulting you.

x professor!geto who owns a boat and is a surprisingly good sailor. no clue where he learned, though.

x professor!geto who has a hidden emergency stash of dark chocolate in his office, specifically for those days when gojo is being especially annoying.

x professor!geto who wasn't quite the manwhore like gojo during his university days, but let's just say he had his fair share of woman also.

x professor!geto who is actually a slightly better basketball player than gojo. gojo would die before admitting it, but geto likes to tease him about it sometimes.

x professor!geto who drives like a maniac who definitely stole the car. everyone who's ridden with him swears they'll never do it again.

x professor!geto whose nicotine addiction was always bad, but got worse when he started his residency. also he considered gynecology for his residency for a hot second lol.

x professor!geto who is great listener and loves having deep conversations with you.

x professor!geto who absolutely adores it when you run your fingers through his hair. he'll lean into your touch with a soft sigh and close his eyes.

x professor!geto whose surgeon hands are surprisingly smooth, with super long and kinda thick fingers, but still a little rough in places. he's also got some scars on them.

x professor!geto who always has faint shadows under his eyes from those crazy-long hospital shifts.

x professor!geto who has perfect teeth. that's just a fact.

x professor!geto who knows he's good-looking and has a quiet confidence about it.

x professor!geto who keeps a sketchbook filled with precise anatomical studies. he's actually really good at drawing. sometimes he'll secretly sketch you.

x professor!geto who really understands the power of a lingering touch. a hug held just a bit too long, a casual brush against your arm. and he'll drive you crazy with it.

x professor!geto who is all about efficiency. he always goes the quickest, most logical route. also he can't stand fake niceties or small talk. give it to him straight, even if it's a little harsh.

x professor!geto who is very good at reading people and understanding their emotions.

x professor!geto who acts like he hates memes, but he's got a hidden folder filled with the most ridiculous ones.

x professor!geto who does crossfit and, unlike gojo, actually sticks to a strict workout routine. that's also why he's way more built.

x professor!geto who dragged gojo into rehab. twice. but it was in vain.

x professor!geto who is gojo's doctor, and gojo is his. they never let anyone else treat them unless absolutely necessary. they know each other's whole medical history, even the embarrassing stuff.

x professor!geto who will always give you the "i'm so proud of you" kisses after an accomplishment, big or small, he celebrates it with a kiss.

nsfw

x professor!geto who will think about you when he's alone, doing his thing.

x professor!geto who will treat you like a princess in public, but once you're home, he's all about tying you up and having his way with you.

x professor!geto who loses all sense of sanity if you wear lacy lingerie or stockings under your clothes. he's all in. just give him the signal, and he'll find a private spot to help you out of them.

x professor!geto whose not one to rush. he wants to make sure you're all worked up and ready for him before anything else. he rarely skips foreplay.

x professor!geto who will interlock his fingers with yours while eating you out.

x professor!geto who is all about communication. he wants to know your needs, limits, and reactions every step of the way.

x professor!geto who, once he knows your limits, will push your face into the mattress, silencing your whimpers and cries for him to slow down. sorry, not sorry.

x professor!geto whose is packing some serious size. he's so thick that he fills you completely, leaving no room for anything else. at first you're a little scared, but he knows exactly how to position himself and angle his hips to slide seamlessly into you.

x professor!geto who is not afraid to try new things in bed. whether it's a new position, toy, or technique, he's game.

x professor!geto who will spank you during sex, especially in doggy. don't worry, though, he's all about the aftercare too and will sooth the burn. you deserve nothing less.

x professor!geto who doesn't make much noise during sex, but the moans he lets out are FKN LOUD, sending shivers down your spine.

x professor!geto who is really into oral sex. both giving and receiving. and yeah, he's really into deep throat. there's nothing quite like feeling the tip of his cock disappear down your throat. it drives him wild.

x professor!geto who holds your hair and whispers words of praise while urging you forward until you finally bottom out, choking slightly on his thickness. and he'll guide your head back and fourth. arguing with me on this is futile.

x professor!geto who loves eye contact while you ride him. he'll grab your hips to keep you steady as he sinks deeper and deeper inside you. the sight alone sends shivers down his spine.

x professor!geto who finds it hot when you get a little bossy. but beware, this man won't tolerate being bossed around for long. he craves submission above all else.

x professor!geto who prefers to finish inside you. he also loves to see his cum leaking out of you. major turn-on.

x professor!geto who is into rope bondage. watching you struggle against the ropes as he pleasures you? yeah, that will drive him wild.

x professor!geto who almost had a threesome with gojo once, but gojo messed it up. low-key disappointed, but he's moved on.

x professor!geto who will manhandle you into whatever position he wants. don't protest. it's futile.

x professor!geto who can switch so fast. like one moment, he's rough and cruel leaving you helpless and panting underneath him. the next he's showering you with soft touches and kisses that take your breath away.

x professor!geto who loves spontaneous sex wherever the mood strikes. in his office, in the car, at the hospital (don't tell anyone), you name it. brace yourself for some unexpected action.

x professor!geto who has a stamina that defies belief. bro does crossfit for a reason.

again, i may got carried a bit away. hope you enjoy! (also i never pondered about smut with geto before lol, had to think about it for a hot second) ♡

I miss this fic so much 🤧🤧🤧 This is my 6th time reading it 🥹🥺

I Love You, Always

Sukuna x Reader

Part 15 Sakura ♡ ♡ ♡ Part 16 Bali series m. list

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated!

Warnings: Some angst, mostly fluff (?), smut, shotgun kissing, alcohol intake, car sex, oral (male receiving).

A/N: I don't know if you guys realized but I made Sukuna taller than his canon height lmao. He's around 6-6'2ft in here lmao. Also, I'm not very great at smut and fluff, I'm seriously the best at angst lmao. Just remember, this story will have mature themes, heavy angst etc. as the story progresses. Thank you for reading~

The air feels nice and cool against you as you wander around the empty train tracks. It’s past midnight and he’s managed to coerce you into sneaking out of the house. You balance yourself on the rails while Sukuna walks beside you on the rocks.

“I need to stop listening to you, Sukuna. You’ll get me in trouble one of these days.”

Though you say this, there’s a smile perched on your pretty lips. He stops walking and motions with his hands in big movements, “it’s worth it though. Look,” he spins around slowly, making the rocks crunch beneath him and smiles when his eyes land on yours again, “we have this place all to ourselves. It’s dark out and there’s no one but us.”

Ah, there goes the fluttering in your stomach again. Even when you’re standing on the tracks, Sukuna stands taller than you; and there’s a softness in his expression and body language towards you. When you first met him, he was tense and guarded, as were you. When did you both let your guard down? For some reason, you can’t pinpoint the exact moment. You choose to capture this moment in your memory forever and lock it in your heart, because it’s something only you can see.

You place your hands on his chest and sway side to side. “You should smile more; it suits you.”

Sukuna’s smile drops almost immediately and he clears his throat while turning away from you, “smiling is the biggest jinx. I don’t want to.”

You giggle at his shyness and gently slap his chest, “come on~ smile! Show me those pearly whites.”

He reluctantly turns back to you and flashes you a petty smile, “happy?”

“I am.”

He scoffs at you but takes your hand in his and leads the rest of the way down the tracks. Conversations upon conversations pile up into the night and the sound of your loud laughs can be heard through the echo of night but neither of you care. Sukuna makes you smile. He makes you feel as if there’s no one else in the world except you two, but deep down, you’re still drowning in guilt.

For all you know, those who used to be your friends are probably talking behind your back and making stories. They could be saying all sorts of things about you and you wouldn’t even know for sure until word got back to you. No one answers you back. When you ask to hang out, you’re left on delivered or read. The only person who still texts you from time to time is Kazuya. He gives you words of encouragement and tells you it’s not your fault and to just enjoy what you have but it’s still a bit hard. You know what you’re doing with Sukuna isn’t fully appropriate, but it’s hard to stop as well.

Sukuna’s throat bobs up and down when he realizes you’re not paying attention anymore. It’s really easy to read you, actually. He knows what you’re thinking and part of him just wants to tell you to stop overthinking it because it already happened and now it’s in the past. It’s time for you to stop feeling sorry towards Kaede.

He lets your hand go, steps in front of you and then spins around to face you while walking backwards. You stare at him with wide eyes and watch how the subtle wind blows his hair back and reveals a part of his forehead. Jeez, this dude is so charming in the face.

“Let’s play a game.”

This piques your interest, so you listen in, “what kind?”

He holds a finger out and chuckles cockily, “let’s list things we like about each other.”

“I don’t wanna play.” You shoot the idea down and hop off the tracks to go around him but he spins around and grabs your wrist to stop you. You frown, “what?”

Sukuna’s eyes dart around on your facial features as he ponders. “You don’t have to say anything, y/n. Just listen to me.”

Even though Sukuna likes to come off as a hard guy, you can sense the desperation in his voice. It’s not enough to make you feel bad, but it comes off as him wanting to reassure you, so you nod.

“I like the way you get mad easily,” he starts off, “I like the way you make deals with me.” Sukuna gently tugs your wrist towards him and pulls you into his warm embrace. He rests his chin on top of your head, “I like how you always make me chase you.”

This makes you giggle into his chest and you close your eyes as you take in his citrusy scent. He still smells like cigarettes from time to time, but today he doesn’t. You wrap your arms around his torso as well and continue to listen.

“The truth is…” Sukuna’s voice stalls for a bit, “you’re annoying and bipolar.” And before you can break the hug and argue with him, he places a kiss on top of your head and laughs, “I also like that about you.” Then he pulls back enough to stare at your pretty face again, “but truthfully, y/n, I like the way you smile just for me.”

Sukuna doesn’t know if your cheeks and nose are red from his words or if they’re red from the slight breeze, but it makes his heart flutter anyway. He leans down and boops your nose with his, “your smiling face is what I like the most.”

Ah shit… he’s got you wrapped around his fucking fingers, that asshole. But there you go doubting again. Even though your heart is leaping and doing somersaults at his sweet words, you push yourself off of him and laugh awkwardly. It’s stupid right? You’ve kissed, fucked, done it all and yet you cross the line at a small confession.

“I don’t know…” You’re already walking off without him as you speak. “Are you sure you don’t like me for my body? That seems more plausible.”

Okay, that irritates the fuck out of Sukuna, but he’ll keep his cool because he doesn’t want to ruin the night. He didn’t know you’d react like this. He catches up to you and shoves his hands in his pockets while his shoulders hunch inwards, a subconscious act of him putting up a small barrier. Neither of you seem to realize it.

He looks straight ahead at the dark abyss. “Didn’t I tell you already? I like you.” His tone is a little grumpier now as he speaks, “why are you so stubborn?”

“I said I liked you… but maybe now isn’t the right time.” Your lips purse, “and maybe we shouldn’t do it so much. It makes me feel horrible.”

Sukuna laughs, “lying straight through those teeth of yours, I see.” He looks at you through his peripheral vision, “right in my face, too. Oh, the audacity.”

Even though he’s slightly annoyed with you, he’s back to smiling sweetly, “look, y/n,” he sighs, “Kaede had a small crush on me. She confessed and I rejected her. I get that you feel bad for her but it’s time to let that shit go. Besides…” He frowns, “she turned everyone against you.”

“Because I wronged her in many aspects, Sukuna.”

“And look at us, still having sex and making out.”

“Then maybe we should stop until…” You shut yourself up, unable to finish the sentence. You’re selfish and you know it. Sukuna was right. The audacity you have is horrendous.

Sukuna is quiet as well. Did you want to stop, then? All of this just to go back to stage one, smh. His jaw clenches, but he shoves aside his own feelings and gives your head an affectionate pat, “let’s go home, doll. We can talk about it another day.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Can someone just smack you? It seems like you always ruin the freaking moment and it’s frustrating. Would it be better if you just forgot it all?

The walk back is silent and now he’s in front of your house, getting ready to help you climb over the heavy ass gate. You’re just standing there, so Sukuna straightens up.

“What?”

You can’t look at him. You feel too bad. You fiddle with your nails, “I just wanted to apologize to you.”

Sukuna cocks his head to the side with an amused smirk, “for what?” He just finds you so adorable at times.

“For what I said earlier tonight.” Your head is still hanging down, “didn’t I make you uncomfortable?”

He steps closer to you and hums, “hmm, not at all. Why would you think that?”

You can see his shoes in front of you, so you slowly raise your head. No one likes to apologize because it’s ego crushing to do so, but you don’t like to fight with Sukuna. You’ve done it before and it wasn’t great. It made you feel empty and all sorts of other things…

“Just because,” you say quietly. “You didn’t look too happy about what I said.”

He can’t stay mad at you. Not when you’re all sulky and cute. He brings his face closer to yours and gives the tip of your nose a soft peck, “I don’t know how I looked earlier, but don’t take it the wrong way.” Sukuna’s eyes soften up at you, “I don’t mind at all.”

Oh, thank god. Now you can breathe! You shut your eyes and fall into his warmth, “that’s a relief to hear, then.”

He peppers your face with a bunch of tiny kisses before chuckling, “even if you blow me off a thousand times, I won’t get angry.”

How could he still think this way after you’ve given him mixed signals for months? You push your face into his chest and rub side to side. “What do you plan to do with me, Sukuna?”

“Still thinking,” he entertains.

Here comes the greed inside of you. It fights against your guilt and mindlessly, you hug him tighter. “Do you plan to love me?”

You’re hot and cold. Bipolar and indecisive.

Sukuna has always believed that he was a man unworthy of love. How could someone like him ever get to experience it? He thought love was stupid. The word was made up for delusional people, it had to be. But, he’s so smitten with you that maybe it’s possible. For now, he’s smitten… Yeah. He’s not sure if he loves you, but maybe he could learn to. All he knows is that you’re not there either. He sucks in a breath, “did you want me to? Once I start with you, I won’t be able to stop.”

Is this where you end your friendship with Sukuna and start something new? You haven’t spoken to Kaede, so you don’t know why she still haunts your mind. You don’t know why she makes you feel so guilty. Perhaps it’s just all in your mind. Maybe you are overthinking. Your heart wants to leap at Sukuna every time you see him. You want to kiss him comfortably without having to look over your shoulder. You want it all.

Sukuna releases you and gives you one more chance to back out. His face is serious. “Ichihara y/n, you can’t be friends with someone you were in love with. You just can’t. If you don’t think this will work out in the long run, then tell me now.”

You don’t know this, but if you choose to run away from Sukuna, this will be the last you’ll see of him. He won’t even say a word to you. He’ll just leave your world.

“I’d like to start something new with you someday, when we’re both ready, ” your voice is barely audible, “if that’s what you want.”

It’s a good enough answer for him, so he nods and pushes you towards the gate, “no rush.”

Once you’re halfway over, you look down. “Are you staying over tonight?”

“Not today. I kind of miss my own bed.” Sukuna yawns and then waves for you to go, “goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight.”

♡ ♡ ♡

He stopped texting you after he let you know that he got home safe. It doesn’t bother you since he looked pretty tired earlier, but you can’t fall asleep. Ah, that’s right. He never collected his clothes. Is he leaving them here on purpose? Feeling bored, you hop off the bed and walk to your dresser. You take his pants out and unfold them.

“Damn, they’re big.”

Just out of curiosity, you take your pants off and step into his. They’re oversized on you, but it’s a cute look! There’s a small smile playing on your lips as you sway side to side, admiring yourself in the mirror, but the sound of soft plastic wrinkling can be heard. Where is it coming from? His pants? You pat down on his front pockets and don’t feel anything in particular, so you reach inside instead.

The right pocket is empty, but the left contains what feels like a small bag. What could it be? You pull it out and frown at the sight. There are two full colored rectangle pills and a broken one in the bag. These aren’t ordinary pills like ibuprofen… you know that much. Could it be? Is he a drug dealer? Is that why he said he was a bad person? Sure, it’s illegal, but that doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person, right? Right???

You really want to call him and ask about it, but maybe he doesn’t have to know that you know. A part of you is afraid that he’ll disappear from you if he knew you found out, so you want to be greedy and stay quiet about it. And the reason why you’re doubting that he takes these kinds of things is because you’re always with him. He is always conscious. Always aware. The most you’ve seen him do is smoke weed, but you’ve never come to the conclusion that he was drugged out on ecstasy. Oh, and you’re with him all the time, so there wouldn’t be a time for him to even do all of these things. Well, of course, there are those nights when he doesn’t hang out with you because he wants to go to work, but he’s a bartender… There's no way he’s doing these things.

With shaking hands, you place the pills back where you got it and take his pants off. You’re surprised they survived the wash, but they were sealed in a bag, so it’s plausible. You’ll admit that a part of you feels heavy after finding these, but you just hope he isn’t on these drugs. If you’re going to date him later in life, you’ll have to introduce him to your parents and you already know how much they’ll judge him, so you hope he is sober. Obviously, they wouldn’t go to such lengths to get him tested to see if he was in the clear, but they’d judge him on appearance, which is annoying.

“What am I going to do…”

You sink onto the bed and curl up into a ball. Millions of thoughts fill your head while doubt starts to surface. Now that you think about it, you really don’t know Sukuna at all. Even after all of this. He barely opens up to you, hardly lets you in. You know that his parents have money, but what exactly do they do? Why doesn’t Sukuna ever tell you anything? You’ve seen him in his vulnerable state on rare occasions, but even then, it's hard to tell what he’s thinking. If you brought this up, would he run? Half of you argues that he’d stay, because he’s shown you his softer side but… the other half argues that he’d leave due to you knowing too much.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Y/n, it’s time to get up.”

You wake to the sound of your mom’s voice. She’s standing right outside your door, but she walks off when your dad mumbles something to her. You’d question what they’re discussing, but it doesn’t really intrigue you. You choose to get ready for the day instead since you’ll most likely be hanging with Sukuna again.

“Y/n.”

You glance up from your phone to stare at your mom. She’s got this look in her eye, and you don’t like it. It makes you feel uneasy. Still, you manage to smile just fine and raise your brows, “yes?”

Your mom brushes her hair behind her ears and leans over the table to stare at you a bit better. “You’ve been on your phone a lot lately.”

Ah, here she goes again. You lay your phone down and tap the table impatiently, “I’m always on my phone. Is that a problem?”

“Of course, it’s not.” Your dad speaks up and picks up his mug, “but well…” He glances at your mom nervously and continues, “it’s just that we have some news to deliver.”

Your mouth hangs open because what kind of news are they delivering? Why are they acting so serious? You lean towards them as well and stare at them with seriousness. “What is it? Please don’t tell me that you’re pregnant…”

“What?”

Your mom starts to choke on her spit and begins to pound at her own chest while your dad hurriedly pats her back to help. When she’s calmed down, she laughs loudly and shakes her head, “no, y/n. It’s not that, but your father has won a raffle of work and was rewarded with a vacation.”

“Oh, that’s it? Why were you acting all serious then?” You exhale dramatically and playfully wipe the fake sweat off of your forehead, “ya had me nervous there.”

Your father laughs at your silliness but nods, “yes, I won a fully paid vacation, actually. It’s in Bali and the resort offers a two bedroom, two bath suite for us. We even have a private balcony as well.”

Well I guess it’s a good thing they gave you a heads up? But gosh, why were they so weird about it? You shrug your shoulders and give a light clap, “congrats on your vacation. Have fun~”

“Oh, well, you’re coming with us, sweetheart.” Your mom quickly adds, holding her hand out towards you so you don’t leave too fast. “He won a couples vacation, so the both of us are paid for, but we’re bringing you along, no fighting it.”

“There’s really no need for me to impose, really.” You get up from the table and gather your plate, “but you two deserve a vacation, so have fun.”

Annoyingly, your mom follows you into the kitchen. She crosses her arms and sighs at you, “you’re coming along with us. It’s two bedrooms and two baths, you’ll have your own little privacy, y/n.”

“Yeah, but I’m fine staying home alone here.”

“Not happening. I’ll become paranoid with you here all by yourself.”

“I’m an adult, mom.”

“A young adult,” she corrects. “I cannot have you here by yourself for three days, sweetheart. Like I said, no fighting against it.”

“But-”

“Your father already paid for your roundtrip ticket, y/n. Have your things packed by Friday. Our flight leaves around seven in the morning.” She turns the faucet on to start doing dishes but continues to talk, “the reason why I commented about you being on your phone was for this reason. We’ll be on vacation, so make sure not to be on your phone for too long.”

You won’t lie, you’re a bit excited about going to Bali but that means no Sukuna for a while… and also, you’re stuck hanging out with your parents. Your lips curve into a frown, “so you mean to say I’ll be stuck by your side from day to night?”

She chuckles at you, “not necessarily, but I’d appreciate it if you tried to stay close by. If not that, then if you’d at least feast with us each of the days.”

“Okie dokie.”

Right after you say that, you hear your phone ding and jog towards it. Oh, would you look at that. It’s Sukuna. He’s waiting for you around the corner, so you clean up the rest of the table and then say a short ‘bye’ to both parents.

Sukuna rolls the windows down and whistles at you, “ayo, lemme holla for a dolla!”

“You’re so stupid,” you laugh and place your hands on your hips, “you’re driving today? Do you even have a license?”

“Nope.”

Well at least he’s honest. You roll your eyes at him but get in anyway, “who’s car?”

“Who else? It belongs to me.”

There’s a pause in your laugh so you can deadpan at him, “you have a car yet no license. Should I even trust being in here with you?”

Sukuna leans over to give you a quick kiss, “I made it safely, didn’t I? Besides, I got a few driving lessons from Yuuma in my adolescent days.”

“Please shut up…”

Sukuna is driving pretty okay. And it’s actually nice, driving around the city with no true destination. Well, at first you were driving around aimlessly until Sukuna decided on a location. The traffic fucking sucks ass though. Usually, the traffic from Tokyo to Shinjuku wouldn’t be too bad since it’s barely a 7-10 minute drive, but today it is, so while the light is red, Sukuna leans his head back against the headrest and lazily turns to look at you. He thinks you’re beautiful, even with all your natural attributes.

He licks his licks and pushes himself off the seat to lean over. He grabs the back of your head with one hand and leans in slowly. “I’m bored,” he whispers, “kiss me for entertainment.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at his bold statement but you lean in anyway. His kisses are so gentle yet they radiate the complete opposite. The sounds are lewd in your ears but he’s kissing you so lovingly. There aren’t any tricks in the way he is kissing, and his tongue barely passes your lips, only enough to pull you in. It’s a great way to kill time while the lights are red but the poor people around you with wandering eyes are sure to be disturbed by such an intimate act. Given it’s not exactly your fault if they see, but still. You blush harder at the fact that there might be wandering eyes and you’re sure that Sukuna can sense it based on the way he smiles against your lips.

He pulls away and then leans back in to place one more kiss on your lips. “What?”

“What if people saw?” Your voice is small and timid while your cheeks glow.

Sukuna looks around and into the other cars without a care. He does happen to make eye contact with a male and smirks in return, “it’s not our problem if they see, doll.”

He pulls you in for another passionate kiss and he continues to do so at every red light. You’re not sure if he’s trying to punish you or something, but it turns you on a lot. You’re just too shy to admit it. He finally parks in a public space and ushers for you to follow after.

“This is where you chose?”

Sukuna hums, “yep, Shinjuku. We’re gonna ditch the car here for a while and explore on foot.”

He locks the car and holds his hand out to you. It’s a silent way of him asking to hold your hand, so you place your hand in his and intertwine your fingers. You like the way he emits natural heat, it makes you feel safe. With time being the beginning of April, there are a ton of blossom trees in the area, so the petals fall like snowfall. There are also lots of people here, so human traffic is unavoidable.

“Wow, you totally match the scene.” You pick a fallen petal from Sukuna’s cheekbone and blow it off your fingers with a small grin.

“Quit it,” Sukuna grumbles as he dusts the rest off of him.

While he does so, your eyes catch a glimpse of the chain around his neck and your heart suddenly feels a light pinch. You lean in towards his chest and kiss the center, a smile making its way to your face when you feel the pendant beneath the fabric. The action surprises Sukuna because he stumbles back from you with pink tinted ears and slightly raised eyebrows. He chortles at you, “are you tempting me in broad daylight?”

“I would never,” you say with a mischievous grin. “I just feel a bit happier today after seeing that on you.”

Sukuna holds his hand out towards you and waits for your hand. “I’ll never take it off again.”

After you lock fingers with him again, you pout and feign annoyance, “yeah, right.”

“Should I get down on my knees and vow my life to you, then?”

“No!” You give his hand a light squeeze and walk forward with him, “people will think you’re proposing. That, or they’ll think I’m being a bitch to you.”

“Well then.”

Sukuna begins to slowly drop as he walks with you and you panic, quickly pulling him back up. “Stop, Sukuna.”

He laughs wholeheartedly with you and nods, “okay, okay. I’m just playing with you.”

So many eyes, so many cameras. The crowd is filled with locals and tourists who are all trying to capture Japan’s beauty. Oh, and of course, there are plenty of vendors that sell sakura souvenirs and a few food vendors as well. Since there are so many people, Sukuna pulls you closer to him and makes sure to hold your hand tighter.

“Do any of these interest you?”

Your eyes catch sight of the various little sakura trinkets and even though it’s cute, you don’t think it’s something you need. It doesn’t hurt to look though, right? Your hand never leaves his, but you continue to drag him around, “I’m just looking.”

He thinks it’s funny that he brought you here, yet you’re the one leading the way. And maybe he’s being possessive or something because he swears he sees men looking at you from time to time. And you can go ahead and call him crazy, he’ll accept it. Obviously, there will be wandering eyes as this is a public space with lots to see, so naturally some eyes will fall on you here and there, but it lowkey irks his soul (if he even has one). Sukuna makes sure to glare at those who stare for too long though. How dare they keep staring at your beauty when you’re obviously here with someone. Gosh, if you weren’t such a scaredy-cat-goody-two-shoes he’d walk up to them and confront them. Shit, if you’d let, he’d drag you up with him and stick his tongue down your throat so they can see that you’re not here alone. Initially, he’d just fuck them up til his knuckles were raw, but he’s not trying to go to jail right now. Not when he has you, so yeah, shoving his tongue down your throat sounds more ideal.

And fuck. Now he’s got a fucking boner in public. Feeling uncomfortably tight, he doesn’t want to move, but you just keep dragging him around, bumping him into all of these strangers. He yanks you back, causing your back to crash into him. “Don’t walk off too far without me.”

Your eyebrows pull down at him and you speak over the crowd. “But we’re holding hands, what does it matter?”

“I’ve got a boner right now. Wanna find a private space?”

It’s a half joke lol. Sukuna already knows what your answer is, but he finds your reactions interesting because you’re genuinely annoyed this time, even with a light smile.

“Oh my god, you’re insatiable. I’m not helping with that, but we can ditch this place really quick and look for a bathroom if you need to relieve yourself.”

Sukuna laughs out loud at your expression and shakes his head, “nah, it’s only half hard. I’ll live, I guess.” He eyes the dango stall and drags you there, barely apologizing to the people he bumps into in the process.

“These look good,” he sighs.

“You eat more than you did when I first met you.” You say this more to yourself, but Sukuna hears it anyway.

“Eating isn’t as satisfying as smoking, but it does the job… somewhat.”

Oh? Is he stressed? Was he serious about the boner??? You don’t say anything else but stick close to Sukuna as you wait in line. When it’s your turn, he orders you each hanami dango. “Mmm~” you sing out as you take a bite. It’s soft and chewy with the perfect amount of sweetness. Sukuna is already on the second ball on the skewer, but just to be an ass, he swallows and leans down with an open mouth, waiting to be fed.

You laugh at his childish behavior but comply, pushing your own into his mouth. If you weren’t in public, you would’ve shoved the whole thing in until it hit the back of his throat (like you did with the popsicle that one time) but you’re not trying to die right now. “You always call me a pig. Are you sure it’s not you?”

Sukuna chews with his eyes closed and a small smile, “I am one, after you.”

“Whatever~”

The next item you purchase is sakura mochi. It’s sweet and salty, the perfect amount of savory. If you’re being honest, you prefer this over the hanami dango. You think Sukuna prefers it, too. Or he’s a follower. You rub your stomach and let out a soft burp, “that was good. Kinda thirsty though, right?”

“Hmm,” Sukuna looks around but most of the vendors sell sakura themed drinks or tea, and he’s not really feeling either of those, so he drags you to a vending machine (one he finds easily, thanks to his height). He buys a bottle of water to help wash everything down and lets you drink first, “here.”

After a while of walking around, you stretch and yawn. “We should’ve packed a blanket, so we could lay down like everyone else.”

He shrugs, “well I didn’t think we’d actually do much today.”

Aw, he’s so cute. You cuddle into him and look up with big eyes, “it’s okay~ Let’s ditch the car here and wander around more. We can go to a shopping center to kill time and then maybe explore Kabukicho?”

Sukuna frowns at you. “You want me to take you to the red-light district?”

“What? I’ll be with you the whole time, so it’s not like anything will really happen.” Your voice has toned down on octave in case you might’ve upset him.

He chews on the inside of his cheek for a bit before sighing. “Then you’ll absolutely have to stay by my side, alright? It’s dangerous for people like you., even if there are a lot of people around.”

This makes you laugh at him, “for people like me? And what about you? I know you look tough, but the danger applies to you too.”

“Y/n.”

He’s very serious, oddly so. This makes you shut up and nod silently.

♡ ♡ ♡

You end up in Don Quijote, spending the rest of the day going from place to place, store to store and playing with each other. By the time you’re done messing around, the sun is already beginning to set, so Sukuna grabs your hand again and groans. “I’m hungry. You?”

“I could eat.”

The wait time for Torikizoku is about half an hour, but talking to Sukuna makes time pass by faster. Before you know it, you’re being led to your table and Sukuna may have bribed the waiter with a lot of money… yeah, a super disrespectful thing to do, but the waiter accepted anyways and turned a blind eye to your age. Well, you’re not that far off from the legal drinking age, you’re just a year short.

You’ll admit that the skewers are pretty damn good and the drinks complement the flavors even better. Now you understand why some people pair alcohol with certain foods. The most you have today is beer, while Sukuna sticks to one shot, since he has to be responsible and drive later. But the more he stares at how you get to enjoy the mix of food and beer, the more envious he becomes. So, while his mouth salivates at the mixture, he thinks to himself that he can just ditch the car and come back for it tomorrow. Surely Satoru wouldn’t mind picking you two up. He doesn’t want to bother Yuuma right now, so.

Sukuna reaches over and drinks the beer from your cup, hissing after the taste settles on his taste buds. You’re wide eyed, “Sukuna, you have to drive.”

He scoffs, “I’m rich.”

“So?”

“So I’ll have someone get us if I can’t sober up later. Most we’ll be is buzzed, promise.”

Even though you click your tongue at him, you stupidly allow him to sip from your cup as well. After dinner is done, you both walk to Kabukicho. Thankfully you’re alright, since you drank with a meal. The night is young and bustling, full of life and party goers. Even though Sukuna’s hold on you is firm, he tries to loosen it just a bit so you won’t feel too suffocated.

You smile in general and excitedly look up at Sukuna, “let’s take pictures.”

“Why?”

Ah, here he is, the Sukuna you know. It’s just like before, when you first started hanging out. He’d always oppose, bitch and complain when you wanted to take a picture, but he’d always give in in the end. You sway a bit to persuade him. “Come on~ Just a few.”

Sukuna knows he’ll give in, but he wants to tease you a bit longer. He sticks his nose up and high and frowns, “why should I? It’s not like you’ll post it.”

That’s true. You’re still a bit scared to post him, but come on, dude. You gently slap at his chest, “it’ll just be for our eyes. Please?”

After staying silent for a few seconds too long, he huffs out a sigh and smirks at you, “fine. Just a few.”

That stupid little smile of yours flashes at him and he can’t help but let out a small laugh. You drag him to an area with a little less human traffic and find a nice spot. On que, Sukuna stands behind you and hunches over a bit so his face leans against the side of your head. The first few photos you take are serious ones, and then the next few you’re the only one smiling. You glare at him jokingly through the screen, “smile, Sukuna.”

“You think you’re the boss of me?”

Even though he says this, he smiles widely for the camera and even goes as far as to kiss the side of your head for one of them. It’s a cute moment because it completely catches you off guard, so in the next photo, your cheeks are burning pink.

Sukuna smiles and lets out a knowing laugh. “You’re blushing~”

You put your phone away and spin back around to face him, “it’s the beer.”

“Sure it is.”

He drags you forward and sling his arm around your shoulders, tucking you away under him from prying eyes. As you guys continue to walk down, people approach and try to lure you into the nightclubs and other businesses but Sukuna quickly turns them down. You wouldn’t mind going in, but Sukuna seems a bit on edge about it, so you just stay quiet and give a short apology each time. He does bring you into the little shops though and lets you look around.

“If you’re not gonna hold my hand the whole time, then stay where I can see you.”

You’re not sure if it’s a threat… Either way, you nod. “Jeez, it’s not like I’ll get swooped up, Sukuna.”

His lips twitch, “it’s actually pretty easy to kidnap someone, even with a crowd of people, y/n. So listen to me.”

Gosh, what’s he so worried about? When you’re done looking around, he takes your hand in his once again and you enter the sea of people. Sukuna points up to get your attention. “Look, you see Godzilla’s head up there?”

Godzilla?? You follow his finger and laugh at how random it is. Just then, a woman runs up to Sukuna and stops you guys in the middle of the crowd. Her hair is strawberry blonde, styled half up and she’s wearing an outfit that accentuates her curves. The keypoint of the outfit is the cutout on her chest, revealing her nice cleavage.

“Hello, how are you today?” Her voice is very pleasing to the ears, that’s for sure.

Sukuna juts out his lips at her and furrows his brows, “I’m not interested.”

When he tries to drag you forward, the woman steps in front of him again with her hands up towards her chest. “Oh, please wait a second! Would you be interested in coming into this place? I promise the drinks are delicious! You won’t regret it.”

Not once has she made eye contact with you… until now. She smiles in an apologetic way towards you, and you completely understand why. The woman is just trying to do her job, luring drunkards in to spend more and more money etc.

Sukuna smiles down at her in a charming way and shakes his head, “no, thank you. I’ve got the best entertainment right here and I don’t even need to pay.”

He earns a hard pinch from you, causing him to wince and hiss. When he sends you a death glare, you widen your eyes and act oblivious. The woman laughs shyly at him and nods, “okay then. Have a great rest of your night.”

Honestly, you’re walking in no actual direction, just following the crowd. Eventually you stumble into Golden Gai. It has more of a nostalgic vibe to it and it’s mostly filled with bars that provide stools for eight. Still, it’s a bit busy. Sukuna later pulls you into one of the businesses and you both have a bit more to drink. Don’t ask why you didn’t fight him against it more, it totally slipped your mind with how much fun you were having.

When the fun is done, you both make it back to where Sukuna parked the car. He’s not holding your hand anymore. Instead, he’s holding a small bag of fresh churros from one of the shops earlier. They were holding an event or something but you weren’t really paying attention. Anyway, there were a few cars parked near his when you first arrived but now that it’s late in the night, there are only two other cars in the parking lot. It’s a bit weird how secluded this area suddenly feels.

Sukuna burps involuntarily, “whoo, I’m a bit buzzed. Let’s cool off, yeah?”

“Sure.”

You’re about to pull the door handle but Sukuna shakes his head and taps the hood of his car. “Let’s lay down right here.”

You look at him and then the car with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

He’s already laying on top of it, so you follow after and do the same. The sky is covered in a blanket of stars while the moon is half full. And wow, the coolness of the car does feel relaxing under your hot skin. Sukuna stuffs a few of the small churros in his mouth and then offers you some.

“These are good,” you compliment.

All he does is hum. Wow, he must be more buzzed than he’s letting on. When did he drink so much without you? Well, maybe you’re not as buzzed since all you had was beer, but he only mixed drinks a few times and he ate a big meal. You’re pretty relaxed right now and the only sound being made is the crinkling of the bag from both your hands going in back and forth. When there’s no more to eat, Sukuna reaches into his pocket and pulls out his lighter and cigarettes.

“You’re gonna smoke?”

It’s been a while. Sukuna doesn’t say anything. He settles the cancer stick between his lips, cupping his hand over it as he sparks up the lighter. Your curious little eyes watch the whole thing. You’ve seen him do this numerous times, yet every time you ask to try he denies. Since he’s feeling well, will his answer be different?

You nudge him gently while the smoke curls out from his mouth. “Can I try?”

“No way.”

Ah, like aways–

“Just kidding. You really want to?”

Huh? Did he just ask if you wanted to? You do a double take and stare at him like a dumbass. You’d ask if he’d repeat himself but that might change his mind, so you nod.

Sukuna chuckles, “alright.” He pushes himself off the car to sit up and motions for you to do the same. He passes the cigarette to you. “Go on.”

Every cell in your body is jumping with excitement, but you’re trying not to let it show because he might think you’re being stupid. You exhale slowly through your nose and take the cigarette from him. Shit. You feel more nervous now that his eyes are watching your every move.

You copy what he did earlier and inhale deeply, but then you immediately start to choke on smoke. Your face turns bright red from the force of coughing and Sukuna bursts out laughing at you. He’s been doing that a lot around you lately. Still, his heavy hand comes up to your back and he begins to pat roughly.

“Now who told you to take such a big puff, hmm?”

He’s looking down at you with gleaming eyes and you feel so put on the spot, yet you can’t stop yourself from blushing at the way he looks at you. Thankfully you can mask the blush with the redness from coughing, but a tiny bit of you thinks Sukuna isn’t fooled. He scoots closer to you and takes the cigarette from your hand. You’re about to argue against it but he beats you.

“Wanna shotgun it?”

Hah??? You must be very obvious. Sukuna chortles to himself and waves the cigarette in the air, “it means I’ll smoke it and then pass it to you through your mouth. It’d be easier than inhaling it yourself.” His face brightens a bit as a memory pops up into his head. “It’s the same as me passing liquor from my mouth into yours, y/n.” He takes another puff for himself and then flicks the cigarette. “In my opinion, it works better with a blunt since the smoke is thicker, but it works the same with cigarettes.”

You want to learn all the things Sukuna knows. You want to learn how to smoke, wanna learn how to do everything he does too. Sukuna inhales and holds the smoke in his mouth. He holds your face and gently leans in, pressing his lips to yours. You part your lips on instinct and inhale the smoke into your own mouth with closed eyes. Well whaddya know, it is easier.

Sukuna then quickly captures your lips with his own, causing the excess smoke to blow out in puffs around you. The kiss has remnants of booze on your tongues, cinnamon and now tobacco. Your hands fall onto Sukuna’s neck as the kiss deepens with you kissing back eagerly.

Sukuna discards the cigarette, throwing it somewhere on the ground. His hands wander as you kiss slowly; one hand tracing down, gently gripping your waist. His other hand moves from your face and threads into your hair to kiss you even deeper. You separate for a second to catch your breath but quickly rush back in, causing the tips of your nose to bump together while your tongues collide with each other, sparking electricity.

The fact that you’re almost completely in a secluded area makes it feel like time has slowed down for you. It’s quiet with the only sound being your lips meeting again and again with little groans in between. Feeling a little impatient, Sukuna’s hands ride up into your shirt, his cold fingers tracing your back. It sends a chill up your spine and you gasp into the kiss, earning a low chuckle from Sukuna.

Before anything escalates out here with prying eyes, you back up and catch your breath. “We gotta go, Sukuna. It’s getting late.”

“No, we don’t,” he whispers, leaning in to chase after another kiss.

You back up even further and let out a small laugh, “Sukuna, we’re in public.”

Your words go in his ear and out the other because he leans forward and decides to attach his lips to your neck instead. He leaves light kisses before he starts to suck gently.

“Don’t mark it,” you sigh, trying to be careful.

Seeing how eager and turned on he is, you push him away and nod your head in a direction. “We can go back and find a hotel. There were lots that we passed when we walked around.”

Sukuna shakes his head at you and jumps off the hood of his car and pulls you off as well, “no time.” He quickly scans the area for any cameras and when he finds none, he unlocks the car and pushes you inside. He goes in through his side and then locks his car again. With impatient hands, he pulls you over to his side and reclines his seat back.

“We’re doing this here? Now?” The shock in your voice is really cute.

Sukuna’s eyes are filled with lust and they’re hazy. You know this look all too well, so you give in and undo your bottoms. Soft lips meet yours again while you grind down on his hardened length. The warm air from your breaths fogged up the windows and it all happened so fast. Your lips connected, his pants unzipped and his dick deep within you while his hands find solace at your hips.

You’ve been riding him for quite some time now, so when he feels you losing pace, he begins to bounce you up and down while his hips snap up. “Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back as his dick begins to feel more sensitive.

You pant even harder as your stomach begins to tighten. Gosh, he’s thrusting into you so hard that the whole car is practically shaking. You’re sure that if the owner of the cars came back and saw, they’d already know what was going on but the booze in your system is making it hard to care. One of Sukuna’s hands lifts your shirt up to expose your breasts and his mouth quickly attaches to your nipple, licking and flicking with the desperate need to cum.

“Ngh–” your moan is cut off from Sukuna slamming you back down on him. You release first, your thighs clenching and shaking from sensitivity while he continues to fuck you. Just to tease you more, Sukuna licks his thumb and begins to rub your clit in a circular motion.

“Sukuna– stop!” Your body jolts from the action and you smack his hand away from you, “please.”

He chuckles but quickly groans when he feels himself nearing. In a panic, he lifts you off of him and quickly covers his tip with his thumb so he doesn’t cum. Seeing this, you get off of him and crawl back to your side. Without a word, you lean over and remove his hand.

“???”

Before he knows it, your mouth is on his tip and you're sucking the cum from his fucking dick. And that’s not all. Now you’re being a bitch and going down on him when he’s sensitive. His nose scrunches while his face tightens. “Fuck, y/n–” Sukuna cuts himself off and throws his head back into the headrest when you suck even harder, licking up a prominent vein. If you keep going, he might piss in your fucking mouth. Not wanting to do so, his fingers lace into your hair and he yanks you off, his breathing finally calming down once you’ve been detached.

You haven’t swallowed the cum yet so you’re about to, but Sukuna pulls you towards him and locks his lips with yours again. He doesn’t care that his cum is being mixed on his tongue, all he wants to do is kiss you. You moan into the kiss when his tongue pushes even further and damn, you’ve never thought you’d be this kind of person… into all of this dirty risky shit and all. When he’s done, he pulls back with a string of saliva mixed with cum connecting you until it snaps and falls onto your chins.

“Swallow it, doll.”

@lucyrocks86 @mykyoon @hxlalokidottir @wo-ming-bai @adoraspace @yourusernames @raviolixxx @blackjanexx @myntalks

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them eyelashes 😍

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guess who can’t draw hair 😻

I spent my one n only braincell to draw this :P