Latest Posts by iamyoojin - Page 2

" MOVIE NIGHT GONE WRONG. "

starring! : mikey + fem!reader, and kazutora, draken, baji, chifuyu

warnings! : exhibition, sex tape, fingering, finger sucking, choking, FWB, college!AU, basically cheating? (draken), squirting, implied gangbang at the end, readers skin color is not mentioned, mdni, not proofread

summary! : mikey invited the boys to a movie night, but as he was gone to pick you up, they accidentally stumbled opon a camera.

"Movie night gone right" pt.2

Right after mikeys bike engine roared from outside and slowly got more silent until it was completely gone, the guys just sat on mikeys couch and on the floor, bored.

Kazutora sat down on the floor with one of mikeys pillows and suddenly spotted a video camera, obviously from the late 2000s and a bright smile beamed on his face as he took it in his hands.

"Look what I found, guys" he announced opening the display of the cam "why would mikey have that?" Draken asked himself outloud with a raised eyebrow, to which kazutora shrugged "I dunno but I'm dying to see what he filmed on this."

Chifuyu looked a bit uncomfortable with that idea "I don't know man, maybe there's some personal shit on there" baji just scoffed, "then I just wanna see it more" he laughed. Kazutora looked at draken to see if he wanted to he it too.

Draken sighed and stretched his arms "sure, why not."

Kazutora and baji then cheered before baji encouraged him to connect the camera with the TV, which he had some trouble with since he didn't find the cable at first for it, but after he did find it he didn't waste a single second to plug it in

A video immediately started of mikeys feet as he walked, before the shot lifted to reveal you in pretty heels and a cute sundress skipping infront of him, mikey giggled behind the camera "cute" he said. You then turned around to which the guys perked up.

"She's still pretty even on a shitty camera" baji mentioned.

The tape continued with you laughing happily and smiling at the camera "you gotta say hi to the camera." Mikey told you, to which you just giggled and then waved your pretty long nailed fingers at the camera "hiiii!"

All of the guys had a tiny smile on their face at your cute gesture.

But then the video stopped, and another started up. It was you again. On mikeys couch, stretching your gorgeous legs while reading a magazine. You were wearing a mini skirt and a crop top, mikey kept filming your legs and the how graceful they looked.

It started to feel like...there was some tension in the air now. Kazutora couldn't take his eyes off the screen, admiring your pretty legs and your gorgeous heels. It was no secret that tora had the miggest crush on you, so seeing this put him in a trance. But it didn't just affect him, of course. you were beautiful and cute, and it was hard not to crush on you at least a little bit. Even draken, though he'd never say it out loud.

"Stop filming my legs!" You playfully complained, closing you magazine and coming over to mikey, who was just giggling behind the camera as you came closer and closer to the camera, but then it shut off. And another video started, it was you kneeling on the floor looking up into the camera with your bright eyes and glossy lips "what?" You giggled, tilting your head. "You're pretty." Mikey said, and then it stopped again.

Chifuyu completely forgot about his feelings from earlier, now just focused on seeing more videos of you being pretty and happy.

Those videos continued, just sweet little snippets of mikey admiring you. They were surprised that mikey was so enamored with you, seeing such an "emotional" side of him was very alien to them. Watching these videos made the guys wonder if you two were a thing and they just didn't know about it.

"Come on, let's stop watchin' em" draken announced, waving his hand. But kazutora protested "just one more!" And before anyone could object he let the next one play.

This time you were in mikeys room again with you sitting on his couch as Mikey supposedly laid down on his bed. You were watching some show until you noticed mikey filming you again.

You smiled "what?" You asked cutely, "waiting for a performance" he casually said.

Draken and baji raised a curious eyebrow, "performance?" Baji asked, to which tora hushed him.

You giggled and turned your upper body to him, you smiled a little shyly then rolled your eyes "really? Again?" Assumingly mikey just nodded at your question.

At this point, the guys didn't see anything too weird about these videos until..

You suddenly grabbed the hem of your tank top and lifted it over your tits to flash the camera.

Kazutora and chifuyu let out an audible gasp, draken choked on his drink and bajis jaw just dropped in absolute shock.

"OKAY, OKAY TURN IT OFF!" Chifuyu yelled, pulling his arm over his eyes to shield himself from this privacy invasion. "NO WAY!!" Tora and baji yelled. They both should feel more disgusted or discomfort at you and mikey being.."intimate," but they were too focused on finally seeing your perky tits that teased them for years now.

The video continued and they could hear mikey giggle before the next video started. It was you again with your head on mikeys thigh as you were seated between them on the floor, and he was sitting on the couch, your beautiful eyes looked up into the camera. Your nails pressed softly into mikeys thigh as you tilted your head, then without a single word, mikeys hand cane down to caress your flushed cheek.

It was a cute and innocent enough gesture, until his thumb started caressing your bottom lip and you slowly opened your mouth to suck on it sensually.

"Fuck, she's like a pornstar.." kazutora mentioned, absolutely enamored with how pretty and sexy you looked doing such slutty activities. "She fuckin' does.." baji agreed, leaning more closely to the screen from his seat on the couch.

The video cut, and another immediately started.

This one just immediately started with your pretty moans and your face twisted in pleasure. It didn't take kazutora a second to get rock hard, and it wasn't any different for draken, baji or chifuyu. Hard as fuck.

"What a good girl.." Mikey said behind the camera as it panned down to reveal mikey's fingers slowly sliding in and out of your wet cunt, making obscene and sinful noises. Your clit looked so swollen, kazutora almost wanted to lick the screen.

You moaned so prettily again and you spread your legs further for mikey to get better access. His Fingers sped up and so did the wet squelching noises, your moans got more high pitched and louder "that's it." Mikey encouraged "cum for me.." your hips bucked into his touch as your eyes slightly rolled back and your bottom lip got caught between your teeth.

Baji gripped the blanked next to him, imagining how soft your skin would feel against his own, how tight your pussy would feel around his fingers.

Draken had his fingers on his temple, pretending to not like what he was seeing, and he shouldn't. Especially since he had a girlfriend. But fuck he's just a guy, and you're getting fingers by his best friend. Letting out the prettiest noises he'd ever heard..

Your head tipped back and you covered your mouth as a sticky liquid squirted out of your weeping cunt. "Fuck yeah..good girl, good girl" mikey huffed, fingering you even faster.

Chifuyu gasped as he gripped the pillow impossibly tighter over his crotch, he'd seen a lot of porn but none of them were as good as what he was seeing right there, right now. You were so pretty and he felt like he would die if he didn't jerk off right now.

Kazutora bit his bottom lip desperately as he imagined what your hot and sticky fluids would taste like, he wanted to put his mouth on you so bad, he wanted to make you squirm and cry out as you grip his hair and grind your pussy on his face..

The video cut off again and then mikey was seen with you in a shot, it was assumingly propped up somewhere.

You were getting fucked sideways by mikey as his hands were on your thigh, holding it up, and on your tit as he was sucking on your nipple. "Mikey!" You moaned as your tits bounced with every thrust, the guys could see the bed completely soaked beneath you two "p-please- I can't anymore~" you whined. Mikeys hand gripped your thigh harder "fuck yeah, you can..just one more" the kissed your collarbone "fr' me.." he begged before going right back to suck on your tiddy.

Kazutora almost moaned when you turned your head to the camera eyes closed in bliss as his friend fucked you senseless.

Your moans got louder and baji could swear his mouth was filling up with drool, looking at your tits bounce and your cunt being fucked.

Mikey lifted himself up and put his hand on your throat, drakens eyes widened as you whimpered at this filthy action, his jeans felt so uncomfortably tight due to his painful erection straining against them. He couldn't contain his thoughts anymore, he would fuck you so hard with his big hand on your tiny throat.

Mikey thrusts become sloppy and harder as your moans suddenly stuttered. You were about to cum.

The men were so focused on the screen, awaiting your orgasm.

"We're hereee" mikey announced and the guys all jolted awake from their pussy trance and kazutora hastily and panicked and ripped the cable out of the TV, feeling his heart beat out of his throat when he saw your pretty self standing next to mikey after he just watched you getting fucked by him.

It didn't take long for mikey to see the guys all flushed hiding their crotches and, of course, the video cam.

Mikey just casually chuckled "they found our tapes" to which you gasped and looked at the man next to you "...the tapes?"

You looked back at the men, avoiding eye contact with you or mikey.

Mikey then looked at you and gave you a soft pat on your ass before you shyly bit your lip and walked over to the bed, you sat down...and spread your legs just enough for them to see you not wearing any panties...

Kazutora and chifuyu were about to have a heart attack with how fast their hearts were beating, baji felt like he was burning hot, he never felt this horny..

Draken really, really tried to not look at you or your half exposed pussy. But he did see it and then couldn't tear his eyes away from it.

"Did you like them..?" You suddenly asked, spreading your legs more as Mikey just grinned.

You looked at the camera and then back at the boys "maybe.." you lifted your skirt, exposing your naked cunt to them. "We could make a featured film.." kazutora kneeled and looked like a starved puppy, with his tongue almost hanging out of his mouth and his eyes wide open.

Someone would have to hold baji back if he got any hornier, cause he was about to just jump on you and ravage you.

"I can film everything" mikey said with a smug grin.

Was this planned?

Baji Keisuke

𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐌'𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒

With the weather getting colder, you might find yourself cuddled up in blankets and sipping on some hot chocolate. Perhaps you would have an old, rugged looking book right on your coffee table waiting to be picked up. With fairytale season being in full swing, perhaps you would like to indulge in some nostalgic stories of enchanted forests, wicked witches, cursed princesses and bloodhungry beasts?

But oh, were your favorite fairytales always this 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨?

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓

GRIMM'S NIGHTMARES is an exclusively dark content collab inspired by the dark fairytales collected and written down by the Grimm brothers.The central theme of the collab are dark fairytales, but you are more than free to enter the collab with mythical figures (werewolves, vampires, ghosts, etc) without any fairytale in mind. Despite being inspired by the Grimm brothers, you are more than free to be inspired by other classic tales from around the world. 

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

𓆩𓆪 You have to be over the age of 18 to enter

𓆩𓆪 This collab is strictly a x reader collab

𓆩𓆪 All fandoms are welcome to enter

𓆩𓆪 Aged up characters are allowed, but please don’t age them down 

𓆩𓆪 Your entry has to be a minimum of 500 words long, otherwise the sky’s the limit

𓆩𓆪 Be aware that this is a dark content collab first and foremost. You are allowed to go as crazy as you would like, but make sure to tag all the trigger warnings accordingly

𓆩𓆪 As mentioned previously, you are free to enter with a mythical figure instead of a fairytale

𓆩𓆪 To enter, you need to send me an ask or message with the character(s) and the mythical figure/fairytale you wanna base your fic on

𓆩𓆪 You are allowed to submit up to two entries

𓆩𓆪 You are allowed ro write one fic with up to three characters (character x reader x character x character)

𓆩𓆪 No double entries!Meaning I won’t allow the same character in the same fairytale au (for example, I won’t allow two people to write about vampire Toji). First come, first serve

𓆩𓆪 I take the right of not accepting your entry. To ensure the best possible experience for me as the host, and you as the writer, I will have to make sure you don’t fit my dni criteria 

𓆩𓆪 Make sure to tag me and use the tag 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐌'𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁 so I can reblog and add your fic to the masterlist

𓆩𓆪  The soft deadline for the collab is the 1th of April 2025. Please notify me if you need more time or if you would like to opt out of the collab  

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐒

TOKYO REVENGERS

Werewolf! Baji Keisuke x Fem! Reader (Inspired by The little red riding hood) by @/ljubimaya

Mad hatter! Hanma Shuji x Reader (inspired by Alice in Wonderland) by @6ronze

Demon! Baji Keisuke x Reader by @keisukes-number1

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE

Demon King! Sylus x Reader by @aztecbrujeria

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Vampire! Gojo Satoru x Reader by @avatarofstars

Death! Geto Suguru x Reader by @sugurouge (Inspired by Death's messengers)

ARCANE

Warwick/Vander x Reader by @fortluocha (Inspired by Beauty and the Beast)

MY HERO ACADEMIA

WHO HAVE I REMEMBERED? Dabi x Reader by @amalainse (Inspired by The Frog Prince)

HAIKYUU

Oikawa Tooru x Reader by @amalainse (Inspired by The Little Mermaid)

给友的

gojo is met with a small slap to his face. one that wakes him up from his stupor, head swiveling around with barely open eyes. his first instinct is to grab for you, but the only thing he feels is a tiny, plump stomach.

when he opens his eyes wider, his infant daughter is laid next to him, sucking on her favorite binkie. her tiny hand is raised in the air.

you’re laying on the other side of her, passed out and face barely visible from beneath the pillow. he sighs and turns his body towards his daughter. “why are you hitting daddy, hm?” he asks, voice groggy and quiet so he won’t wake you. he knows how you are when you get woken up. “am i snoring again?”

his daughter simply blinks.

he can’t help but smile, pulling her close and laying her on his chest. “fine, fine. i’ll be quiet. it’s too late for you though, little munchkin. go to sleep so daddy can put you to bed.”

his daughter nuzzles her small face into his neck, causing her father to sigh wistfully. he feels himself going back to dreamland, face relaxing.

not even two minutes later, he’s snoring like a hog.

he’s awoken by another smack, harder this time.

Thank you for protecting me.

an imperial command a knight!choso fic

pairing ⸺ knight/warrior!choso x princess!reader

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

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

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

general masterlist

You and Choso had been inseparable since birth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there he was.

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

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

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

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

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

Patrolling guards.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Obviously.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it feels…different. And he feels different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

And then, he was gone.

You really do abhor dinner parties.

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

But the worst part? Having to entertain men.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked very upset.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then you’ll do it.”

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

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

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

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

“Your Highness—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the door creaked open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My dearest friend,

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

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

You moved to the next letter.

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

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

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

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

When you reached the last letter, your breath hitched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His answer is immediate. “Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

general masterlist

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

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

Satisfaction

~ NSFW, teacher x student ~ Reader is a senior in high school, bored and unsatisfied, they turn to their calculus teacher for help with more than just math problems.

I've been waiting to publish this one and 7,000 words later, it's finally done. I hope yall like it.

~~~

You slump in your chair, spinning your pencil around your fingers. Your eyes are low and spacing out, mentally thinking about the overindulgence of tongue the boy you were making out with last night had. Another stupid, boring parking lot hook up. Every date to you felt uninteresting and led nowhere or was just sexual but never satisfying. Sex has never felt like how others in your life made it out to be, making you think it would be romantically beautiful, hot and heavy, especially your first time. Nothing, not books, movies, or tv shows, show how awkward and self-conscious you could feel during it. Especially with an inexperienced or sexually incompatible partner.

That is unfortunately the state of your peers. Your mind has become a daydreaming vessel for sexual fantasies, with various unattainable people. Long, drawn out foreplay, with strong hands moving up and down your thighs, lips soft and in sync with a gentle tongue, and consistent hip thrusts. A build up of so much sexual energy, there’s a physical heat radiating from your pussy and an unbearable tingling and pulsing. Someone smart and experienced. Patient and conscious. Dominant and confident.

Your gaze moves to your calculus teacher, solving an equation on the whiteboard. The sunlight from the windows shone onto the curling piece of brown hair falling into his aviator glasses. He had undone a few buttons on his sleeves and rolled them up during your daydreaming. Your cheeks turn red and you bite your lip, your mind wandering back to those images now replacing them with Mr. Schlatt. He’s tall with a beautiful blend of muscle and fat, the perfect dad bod, to match his sarcastic, no-nonsense attitude. You notice the grip his thick fingers have, wrapping around the marker. The way he fully pulls off those mutton chops with the slightly messy look, grown out hair curling and frizzing at the ends, big glasses covered in a few smuggles, and a button-down shirt untucked.

The head of your eraser slips into your mouth and your hips squirms in your seat, observing him so closely. Your body grows warmer, your chest and crotch pulsing at the thought of what it would be like to feel even a slight touch from him. Your gaze moves down to his crotch, hoping for a glimpse.

You wonder how hard it could get. How long it could get? How hard could he go? How long could he go?

~~~

You sigh, finishing the last of your homework. The clock read 11:12 PM, a later night for you as finals are approaching. You stuff the pages into your backpack and run into your bed, phone in hand, ready to wind down.

Now free to do so, your mind wanders to Mr. Schlatt. You’ve spent the past couple weeks growing more attracted to him, daydreaming about him before bed, during school, after school, and especially during his class.

His hands grab your waist, skirt still on, panties pulled down, and shirt fully unbuttoned. His dick perfectly hard inside you, tits swinging above the desk filled with half graded papers. The lights are on, the door is unlocked, and every window is open, begging to be seen.

“Fuck, you’re so big.”

“And you’re taking it so well,” He moans out pulling back your hair. “You’re just so easy.” Your eyelids fell shut and your grip tightened on the edge of the desk, your sweat dripping onto the papers.

You let out a few shallow breaths, feeling your climax hit, and slowing the pace on your clit. A calming wave washed over your body and you soon fell asleep cuddling under your sheets.

~~~

You woke up on time, a rare occurrence, eager for today, to see Mr. Schlatt and wear your little outfit. You grab your plaid, pleated, and pastel pink skirt, slipping it on over your lace white thong. Your top is also white, a skin tight turtleneck with short sleeves, and a knitted pattern. You pull up your white socks with frills around the ankles and shove your pink tennis shoes into your feet. You brush out your hair, leaving it down and wavy and apply some blush, mascara, and lip gloss to your face.

You take a look in your full length mirror and smile. Adorable and cute.

~~~

You spend all of your classes rubbing your thighs together, chewing on your writing utensils, and messing with the collar of your shirt and the hem of your skirt. AP Calculus is last and today is definitely the slowest it’s ever been.

Your mind absorbs nothing.

You finally get to his class and he has the top three buttons of his shirt undone, chest hair poking out, sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked, and sweat glistening off his forehead. It’s like he’s teasing and tempting you more and more everyday. You feel yourself throbbing against your chair, not taking in a word he is saying.

After the lesson is over, and your peers start packing up their stuff, you sit in your chair and wait for them to leave, before packing your bag and walking up to his desk. You fix your hair and smooth out your skirt.

“Hey, Schlatt?” He looks up from his computer, quickly scanning his eyes over your outfit. You usually come to school stylish, adding some accessories to your outfits, but wearing a skirt is new. “Can we meet after school today, I don’t get this.” You gesture at the board filled with today’s calc problems.

Schlatt furrows his brows, tilting his head at you. “You, hon?” You bite your lip, smirking a bit at the pet name. “You’ve been doing basically perfect on the homework and on tests, what don’t you get?”

He’s staring up at you, the intense gaze from his brown eyes making your gut twist. You’re riding a high you haven’t experienced before, wanting to push the boundaries of your student/teacher relationship. So, you turn around, lifting yourself up on the edge of his desk, skirt riding up your thigh as you sit down, moving your leg up, and shifting your body towards him.

“You know, I just think that,” you trail off, observing Schlatt’s gaze moving down your figure much slower this time, his eyes widening as he stares at your leg covering up the papers scattering around his desk. Your gut twists again. “I just think that I need some personal, one-on-one time with you.”

He clears his throat and readjusts himself in his chair, struggling to find a place to comfortably put his hands. His hesitation to correct your inappropriate behavior and his wandering eyes fills you with confidence. “I’ve just been so distracted lately.” You slowly run a hand up your thigh, seductively moving your fingers towards the hem of your skirt, teasing the idea of showing him what’s underneath.

“Um, yeah, okay.” He goes back to looking at his computer. “I’ve got some time after school, just be back here in like half an hour.” You smile at his words, heart racing in your chest, your plan going swimmingly. “Now get off my desk.”

“Yes, Sir.” You hop off his desk and walk towards the door.

“Y/N.” You stop at the doorway, turning back around to face him. He’s leaning back in his chair, legs spread apart, and twirling a pen between his fingers, a small smirk on his face. “Don’t call me that.” His statement is firm and commanding and his voice is low and suggestive.

You feel your gut clench, your mouth watering, a strange combination of fear, anticipation, and arousal. Your grip on the reins is softening as he’s carefully slipping them out of your hands. He’s teasing you back.

“Sorry, Sir.” You run out the door before he can protest.

~~~

You stare at yourself in the mirror, adding another coat of lip gloss and spraying perfume all over your body. You turn to check the back of your outfit and notice your cheeks peeking out as you bend down a little. How you didn’t get dress coded today is beyond you.

You bite your lip. “Slut,” you mouth to yourself before heading back towards Schlatt’s classroom up the stairs.

“Sit,” he commands right as you open the door, pointing at the rows of empty desks. “And MY desk is not an option.” A blush grows on your face making your way over to the closest desk in the front and pushing it right up against the front of his desk. You plop down and cross your legs, longingly staring at the man in front of you.

“Okay, lemme just summarize the lesson from earlier, again.” He turns to the board, writing down an amalgamation of formulas from today’s lesson that you already understood perfectly. Just like in class, you zone out, thinking about how hairy the rest of his chest is. How big those arm muscles under his shirt really are. How thick his cock is. If he’s rough or more gentle.

“Any questions so far?” Schlatt turns back around towards you. Being brought back into reality, you clear your throat and sit up in your chair.

“Sorry, I got distracted. Can you go through it again?” He rolls his eyes and erases the board, writing a brand new problem.

“Here.” He holds the marker in your direction. “Try this problem.”

You get up from your chair, pulling your skirt up higher around your waist. You take the marker from his hand and start solving. This problem is easy, you know the steps, but you need to keep playing dumb. Your tummy turns as you carelessly write down a mistake you knew would get him frustrated. On beat, you hear his sigh.

“Wait.” Schlatt walks up behind you and grabs the marker from your hand. You stay in your spot, and just like you’ve envisioned, he puts his hand on your back trying to move your body away from the board. That’s when you take the opportunity and rub your ass slightly against the front of his pants while you move with the motion of his hand.

His breath hitches.

You swear you feel a small bump graze your skirt. Staring up at him towering over you, you watch the redness growing on his cheeks. You study all the beautiful imperfections on his face, while he avoids your gaze, focusing on fixing your careless mistake. When he finishes, he glances down at you, his groin growing warmer seeing you bite your lip with red cheeks, a cute face, and sparkling eyes staring at him.

“So, do you need me to explain what you did wrong here or did you figure it out?” His voice drips with sarcasm. He taps the end of the marker on your nose. Your heart races not knowing how to gracefully get to where you want with him. But maybe that’s the issue; doing it gracefully. You aren’t graceful and neither is this situation.

Mr. Schlatt definitely isn’t graceful either.

“I understand this.” You don’t even acknowledge the board, keeping your eyes locked with his. “There’s another problem I’m having trouble solving though.” Schlatt stares back at you, his cheeks are still red as his cock twitches.

“Oh, yeah?” His attention is fully on you. “What’s that?” You move your body closer to his, trying to smell his scent and gauge the reciprocation.

“I’ve been so distracted.” Your voice is unwavering and seductive like you’d practiced in your daydreams. You test the waters more and run your fingers across the hairs on his exposed forearm.

“I’ve noticed.” He crosses his arms, pulling them away from your fingers, but he keeps the rest of his body close. “You always look so flustered when I check on you during class, what’s distracting you?”

He’s engaging with you. He’s noticing more than you think. He checks on you. Of course, he probably does this with all of his students. But, he looks closely enough to know you’re flustered.

“What?” He hums, leaning his shoulder against the board. “You’ve been acting so.” He looks you up and down. “Bold today, you can’t share your little problem with me?”

“It doesn’t feel little,” you whisper out, hands fidgeting behind your back. There’s a genuine feeling of coyness wrapping itself up in your plan to tease the situation before dropping the bomb. Like the timer is ticking and the longer it goes the more anxious and hesitant you get.

“I used to be a teenager too, I think I can understand.”

You gulp.

“I guess it’s just… hormones, making me think about boys and–” You hesitate again, you can’t even bring yourself to say the stupid word. All day and night you’ve been spending thinking about him on top of you, grabbing you, undressing you, calling you his beautiful girl and also his dirty whore, letting him use your mouth under his desk, teasing you until you’re crying and begging for him to fuck you. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to say–

“Sex?” Schlatt is smiling, arms still crossed and leaning against the board. You feel your face warm up and you avoid his eyes, like if you stare too long you’d get on your knees and start begging. “You think I don’t understand that, Sweetheart?” Fuck, that pet name makes you throb. “I’ve never really thought too much about boys, but I still think about sex.”

“Oh my god, but it's like always on my mind,” You whine, crossing your arms and squeezing your thighs together. In the corner of your eye, you notice Schlatt staring down, observing the way your legs just moved.

“You learn how to control it better as you get older.”

“But, I just can’t stop thinking about this person.”

“Aww, you got a crush?” You nod your head.

“Yeah, um.” You move your gaze back to him. “He’s tall and really smart. I love listening to him explain things to me.” The blood is pumping in your ears. “He’s always a little messy when I see him in class, but in like the hottest way.” You’re wondering if he knows who you’re hinting at already or if he’s mentally running through the list of senior boys in AP Calculus, which isn’t very long. “But, he’s a little older and I feel like I can’t even tell him.” You pause and bare your eyes into his soul. “Or I might get in trouble.” He raises his brow, peering back behind him at the door and the small windows looking into the classroom. “All I want is his attention and…affection.” Schlatt’s pretty eyes turn back to you. “But I don’t know if he’d risk that with me.”

You feel your eyes watering, not because you’re sad or feeling any particularly negative emotion. Maybe some of it is the stress you’re experiencing about the current situation, but mostly it feels like tension. The sexual tension that’s been building up in your body and brain for weeks, the indescribable pull and high you’ve been getting around him. It feels like you’ve never had sex in your life and if this doesn’t happen how you’ve dreamed, you’re gonna shrivel up and never feel this good again.

“Okay, Hon.” He rubs his hands up and down your biceps. “You wanna tell me?” His touch is electric and warm. “We’ll keep it our little secret.” His touch is sucking up your tears and disolving the weeks of tension. “I’m your cool, chill teacher, you’re not getting in trouble.” You want more of his big, soft hands on you. So you trust him.

“All I can think about is you.” He slows the pace of his hands. “You look so hot in your button-down shirts and your messy hair and your glasses.” He stops, gently squeezing your biceps in his hands. He could easily physically do what he wants with you. You move your eyes down to his crotch. “I wanna see how big it is.”

“Y/N.” Oh shit, he’s reacting more surprised than you thought he would. He moves his hands away from you. “Jesus, your behavior lately makes more sense.” He sounds stern, like he’s about to scold you, exactly what you were worried about.

“Mr. Schlatt, I don’t know what to do.” Your eyes begin to water again, now feeling rejection. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Schlatt stares, your eyes glossy and cheeks flushing behind the strands of chestnut brown hair falling into your face. Your nipples are hard through your little turtleneck top and that skirt hugs your waist perfectly. He feels his dick twitching. This is not the physical response he wants to be having.

He knows he needs to back away, tell you how inappropriate this is and make you leave. But you’re so beautiful and seeing you cry because you need his touch this bad is bricking him up and stroking his ego. He’s been stressed out with finals coming up, so much work to grade, and no time to go out with someone. He barely gets any moments to relieve himself or is too tired to do it when he gets home, instead just getting uncontrollably hard in the middle of his lessons.

You’ve noticed that.

“Fuck, you’re so pent up and frustrated.” Schlatt walks towards the door and turns the lock on the knob. He pulls the string down on the blind, covering the small window on the door.

“Leave it open.” Your voice cracks a bit, tears drying up and your confidence filling you up again. He raises his eyebrows at your suggestion, tilting his head in disbelief. From tears straight back to teasing. Your heart speeds up as he walks towards you, slowing his steps the closer he gets, like he’s still mentally battling his urges with his morals. He finally reaches where your standing, waiting patiently, and stops right in front of you, tilting your chin up with his finger and pulling you in closer.

“You trying to get me fired, Toots?” A smile grows on your face. “What, you want people to see you teasing me? Is that what you’ve been thinking so much about?”

You grab his wrist and move his hand, molding it around your throat. “Just one thing I’ve been daydreaming about.”

He lets out a breath, squeezing the tips of his finger putting pressure into the sides of your neck. “You’ve thought about this too, huh?” You nod. He tightens his grip as you struggle for air, leaning down to your level. The smell of whiskey on his hot breath floods your nose.

“You gotta promise me you wouldn’t tell anyone about this.” There is definitely alcohol on his breath and you know it’s recent. Did he have it in his drawers? Was he drinking before you came in? “I’m just helping you fix your problem. That’s my job as your teacher, ya?”

“Yes, Sir,” you choke out.

“Fuck.” Schlatt removes his hand from around your neck, wrapping his arms around your body, cupping the small of your back and pulling you in, meeting his lips to yours. Electric waves run through your body at his touch, his facial hair rubbing against your face. He kisses you deeply, holding your body up to his, his lips moving gracefully with yours. Your lips part a bit and your body relaxes into his arms, letting him hold you up with his strength. He pulls away looking down at you. His mouth agape and pupils blown wide, like he wants to eat you. He moves his hands, gripping your little waist, savouring the sight of you. His grip feels almost too tight, making you realize how much stronger he is that you and how big his body is compared to yours.

Without warning, he lifts you up, an arm around your waist and a hand gripping your ass, gently setting you down on the edge of his desk.

“I thought you said your desk wasn’t an option,” you tease. He grabs your face pulling you back in for more affection. His lips feel so nice against yours, passionate and full. Your arms wrapping around his neck while he moves his hands under your thighs. He wraps your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up as you feel your underwear meet the hard on in his pants. You pull away from his lips, gasping for air.

“I’ll make an exception for my prettiest student.” Schlatt rubs you against him crotch in a nice, slow up and down motion. You feel your groin heating up and your breathing increase. His lips meet your neck lightly kissing and biting all over, keeping his grip on your thighs still controlling your movements against him. Your moans are sweet and dripping all over the desk, traveling slowly across the floor.

“Sir.” It slips out without a thought. You feel his dick twitch and grow in his pants, his movements slipping

“God, I told you not to call me that,” He breathes out, despite growing harder at your words. Your gaze meets his, your noses grazing each other, your arms holding onto his shoulders. Your tongue pokes out wetting your bottom lip and nibbling on it. Schlatt groans. The way you’re blushing and looking up at him with alluring eyes is getting him so hot.

He lays your body down on his desk, grabbing the graded papers and homework and stuffing them into the drawers.

“How’d I do on that last test?” Schlatt puts his hands back on your waist, pulling you down on his groin again. His face is beat red and glistening.

“Like you always do,” He runs his hand under your shirt, finger tips grazing against your skin, sending chills down your spine. “Perfectly.” He leans in, kissing your lips. He’s so good at that, no overflow of spit or overwhelming pressure that feels cartoonish. “It’s funny though,” Schlatt breathes out, pulling away again. You feel yourself getting antsy, craving a slow build up, but your body is used to the immediate gratification. “You’re my best student, Kid.” His hands are back on your waist and the heat in your body grows with his praise. “And yet, you’re here, on top of my desk.” He tucks some hair behind your ear, leaning into your ear. “Making me so hard.”

Tingles run down your head and neck, your arms tightening their grip around his neck, legs pulling him closer, silk clothed pussy rubbing against the hard on in his trousers. His fingers play with the small zipper on the side of your skirt while he pulls you back in for more kisses. Your blood is rushing like never before, you swear you can feel your hormones vibrating, you already feel so desperate for him. You’d do anything for him to just fill you up. Schlatt runs the tip of his tongue against your lips, opening you up, and playing a little inside your mouth, his fingers still messing with your zipper. You desperately moan, holding onto him for dear life. He pulls his mouth away.

“Your outfit is so cute.” Both of his hands move your little skirt up your waist more, exposing your underwear. “Wish this was your uniform so I could see you in it every day.” He glides his hand over the top of your thighs and back down the sides, stuffing each pointer finger into the sides of your panties and twisting. “Except without these.” He pulls them down slowly, a little trail of your wetness connecting your underwear and your hole. You felt the classroom air hit your dripping pussy.

Schlatt's eyes widen and his breath hitches seeing how wet you already are. How wet he’s got you. His dick is begging to be buried inside you already, wanting to know what you feel like; how ribbed you are, how tight you are, how much you’re going to stretch around him. But more than that, he needs a tast.

He turns your body towards the board and grabs his desk chair, wheeling it over for him to sit back down in, as you hold yourself up by your elbows to observe him. He adjusts his glasses and pulls the sleeves of his shirt up more. He looks so distinguished.

“Please, Schlatt.” Your whines are so cute to him, only making him want to tease you longer and withhold the thing you both really want.

“Calm down, Toots. I got you.” He runs the very tip of his thumb across your clit. Your brows furrow and your mouth falls open, letting out short breaths. He smirks, moving his thumb away. Your whines continue, your hips now squirming around desperately. He chuckles at you, grabbing your hips, and holding you down. “Tell me what’s been happening in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Schlatt–”

“You want more?” His tone drops, his expression is serious. “Tell me what you’ve been fantasizing about.”

You groan, trying to gather the many different thoughts you’ve been having about him.

“I think about your mouth on my pussy, holding my hips down, and rubbing your beard hair on me.” He moves a hand off your hip and lightly grazes his thumb over your clit again. You whimper at his touch. “I think about your fingers inside me.” He hums, moving his thumb lower, tracing it down like a snail across your vulva. “I think about sucking you off under your desk while you're working.” He moans, dipping the tip of his thumb into your wet opening. You open your legs, needing more. “I–I think about your cock pounding into me. While you're pulling my hair.” You groan. feeling him move his thumb in circles around your hole, teasing around the folds of your skin. “And calling me a pretty girl and a dirty little whore.” His eyes meet yours, softly staring up at you. He smiles, leaning his head against your leg, clearly pleased with how he’s got you wrapped around his fat finger. “Teasing me until I can’t take it anymore.”

Schlatt stops his movements, pulling his thumb away and holding both of your thighs. He leans down in his chair, moving his lips just above your vulva. With his eyes still on you, he spits on your pussy. You gasp, clit throbbing at his mess. He brings his mouth down to you, tracking his tongue up your vulva and flicking at your clit. You squirm at the contact.

He starts licking at your head, swirling his tongue around, mixing his spit and your wetness together. He’s getting into it, flicking his tongue against your clit, with his eyes low, and his hand squeezing your thighs. You feel yourself sweating, your blood rushing, your pussy throbbing, and an endless stream of noises escaping past your lips. You’re trying not to squirm, mostly because he keeps tightening his grip every time you do, but it feels too good, you just need to grab something to hold you steady. You notice his hair.

Your fingers slip through his thick curls, gently grabbing and tugging. His hair feels soft and a bit oily at the scale. You test your decision even more, guiding his head up and down. He slows his tongue movements letting you move him how you please. Just for a few strokes, letting you feel in control. You lean you head back, continuing to move him like you do your fingers when you’re alone touching yourself. He bites your clit.

“Schlatt!” You tug on his hair, trying to pull him off.

He moves off your pussy, standing up to turn your body to the side. You feel a sharp sting swiftly meeting your ass, punishing you for trying to take control. You whine out, pouting at the burn but enjoying his dominance.

He lays you back down on the desk, raising his eyebrows at you, letting the message sink in that you are not the one in control here. That he’s going to stay at the slow pace he’s set for you. That you wouldn’t get to cum until you’re crying for it, like you fantasized about. That you asked for this and you’re going to like it however he gives it to you.

He sits back down and goes back to stimulating your clit with his mouth. His pace is consistent, the pressure feels so good, you’re back to moaning and squirming again. He sticks his tongue out more while moving his face against your legs, tickling your thighs with his mutton chops. Your clit is throbbing, with no sign of release. His hands move up your body, slipping under your tight top and cupping your breasts. He groans into your pussy, slowing his tongue down and focusing on massaging your tits with his big, strong hands. They fit so perfectly, covering your nipple with his palm and his finger wrapping deliciously around your tits, engulfing them. The warmth of his hands feels so nice on your chest, but you wish he would continue flicking his tongue rapidly, why did he slow down?

“Mr. Schlatt?” You whimper out. He hums, still staring at your tits in his hands. “Please, c-can I have more?” He lifts his head off you, a cold draft hitting your wet skin, his hand fiddling with his belt buckle. The sun is kissing the hairs on his arms, as he drops his pants, exposing his navy blue boxers hugging his hard cock. He’s big, the head almost poking out of the leg hole.

Your drooling for it, your clit is aching and without a second thought you move your hand down your body, wanting to relieve the tension.

Schlatt grabs your wrist and pins it down above your head. “Don’t you even fucking try.” His face is right above yours, glistening with sweat. His curls frizzy and his glass falling off the bridge of his nose. “You said you wanted me to tease you, I’m doing that for you. Spoiled fucking brat.”

You had never experienced anyone this dominant or stuck with it so well. Keeping the character and the foreplay going, not just giving in when you do. He’s actually listened to you.

“You’re such a little slut.” He grabs your throat. “Bet you already want my cock buried inside you.” You let out a pathetic little whimper, squeezing your empty pussy. You feel his grip tighten on your airways. “Do you? Answer me.” You nod your head. Schlatt chuckles at your desperation, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “Well, you’re not getting it until you show me how much of it you can take down your throat.”

He moves his hands under your thighs, pulling you off the desk and onto your feet. You feel lightheaded, trying to stabilize yourself against his body.

“Get on your knees.” And like an obedient puppy, you do as he says getting on the floor. You're inches away from his bulge and you can see every vein and curve of it through his skin tight underwear, it’s so surreal and intimidating. Not the first dick you’ve seen but definitely the thickest. “Don’t just stare, take it out, Sweetheart.” You grab his waistband and pull them down, his member popping out and tapping the side of your face. His cock is a nice, long length, not too long to make you worthy about it hurting, but so girthy it might be thicker than your dildos. His veins looked so sexy and his balls hang so perfectly.

You look up at Schlatt looking down at you, waiting for you to touch him. You stare into his eyes, while grabbing the base of his cock, your whole hand wrapping around it. You slowly start pumping and put his tip on your lips gently sucking and wetting his head. He groans out, tucking the strands of your hair behind your ears and placing his hands on your head. The taste of his precum on your tongue motivates you. You speed up a bit, bobbing your head up and down his thick length in sync with your hand while swirling your tongue around his head. Saliva builds up in your mouth, lubbing him up making it easier to stroke his throbbing dick. You pull off to get a breath and spit the excess drool on his shaft.

“Fuck,” Schlatt moans out, threading his finger through your hair and tugging. You let out a tiny squeal, putting him back in your mouth and getting back into your rhythm. The drool drips down your chin and onto your shirt, the wetness and mess making your exposed pussy even more curious. You resist the temptation to reach down and touch yourself while you're getting him off. You know even if you try to be sneaky he’d probably notice and make you wait longer. His dick twitches as you move your mouth and hand faster.

“Baby, look up at me.” You move your gaze up to him, he’s breathing heavily, eyes full of lust. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth, I want your eyes on mine.” God, this man is so hot. Your calculus teacher is so fucking hot. You remove your hand, placing them both in your lap, and opening your mouth wider to prepare for him, not looking away for a second. He moans at your submission, pulling your head down on his length and back up, starting off slow and steady. You relax your throat preparing for his full member.

That’s when the sound of a door and footsteps outside the hall startles you both. Schlatt’s eyes grow wide, lookingaway from you and out the windows into the hallways.

“Get under the desk!” He whispers, moving his hands off your hair and pushing you under. You crawl on your knees under the desk, as he pulls his pants and boxers up to his knees and sits his bare ass in his chair. He pushes himself in until his crotch is hidden under his desk. You're both breathing heavily. Your body is cramped into the very back of his desk in between his legs, his cock still right in front of your face, rock hard.

You take this moment away from his vision to feel yourself. Your vulva is covered in your wetness, you take the bit of it and lick it off your finger. You don’t know who is there, but it’s making you hornier. All you want is this dick back inside you, so you put it back in your warm mouth. If someone saw, you didn't care, you kind of want the world to know you’re a willing slut for your teacher. You want them to assume you're trying to get a better grade or extra credit, just so you don’t have to do the work. But really you’re his star student, just trying to satisfy your insatiable arousal.

“Y/N.” You ignore his stern voice continuing to bob your head up and down his shaft moving your hands behind your back. “Y/N!” You don’t stop. You don’t listen. “God, you wanna get caught don’t you?” He grabs your hair and mercilessly moves you up and down his dick like a fleshlight. “You dirty whore, can’t even wait one minute.” You’re gagging and drooling all over him, trying to focus on breathing through your nose, his head hitting the back of your throat with no room for air. It’s feels like when he’s choking you, but you also feel so nice and full. Even the pain feels so good.

You don’t know where that person is or who thay are. If they're still outside the hallway or if they went downstairs, but it doesn't matter, because the sound of you choking and his low groans and the full feeling and taste of his dick is all you care about.

“Your history teacher just walked right past us.” You moan, still trying to handle him abusing your mouth. “Bet you would've loved for him to see you on your knees choking on my dick.” You feel lightheaded, his pace not letting up, your body low on air. But it’s all turning you on so much. His voice, his words, his hand pulling your hair, his throbbing cock filling your mouth. After what feels like forever, he pulls you off. You cough out all the wetness and take a big, deep breathe in, but before you can recover he’s pulling you up by your hair out from under the desk.

He stands up with you, pushing you forward and bending you over his desk, his hand smashing your face down into the desk, you feel his other hand pull up your skirt and push a finger inside your dripping hole.

“Unhhh!” You moan out, careless and loud, not caring whose around clearly. Your eyes flutter close. He moves his finger in and out of you, your hole gripping around it desperately. The sounds of your wetness and your moans and whimpers fill the classroom splashing outside the cracks of the door and windows into the hallway.

“Gotta fuck you soon, don’t want another one of your teachers to see.” He slides another finger in, curling them so nicely around your tight hole. “Even though I know you’d love that.” He continues massaging inside of you, feeling all the ridges and bumps in your pussy, exploring every corner of your insides, cherishing the little time he has with them.

“Shit, you’re gonna feel so tight. Already, so wet for me.” He pulls his fingers out and you feel the head of his cock sitting right at your entrance. He grabs a handful of your hair, turning your head to face. “You gonna take it like a good girl?” You look back at him and bite your lip.

“Yes, Daddy.” His face scrunches up in pleasure, not expecting that word to come out of your mouth. He pushes himself in, his thick, long cock stretching you and filling you up inch by inch, each one feels better than the last. You bury your face in your arm pushing your ass back into his member wanting to take all of him in, he feels so thick and warm. He’s filling you up just right.

His dick throbs inside you as he moves your hips. Your drunk on his cock, thinking about how many times you’ve played this exact interaction in your head. Your mind couldn’t even comprehend how good this would actually feel. Your moaning out at every thrust, loving the way his balls slap against your clit and his length stretches you out. You could stay like this forever, getting pounded into, your pussy gripping his cock so good, even when he pulls out almost all the way she’s not letting him fall out. Your tits are swinging with each thrust and you see a drop of sweat drip onto your classmates homework. God, this is even hotter than your mind came up with.

He pulls you out of your thoughts, moving your body. He stands you up, your back against his chest. He moves your left leg, setting it up on his desk, opening you up more. He holds you close to him, wrapping an arm around you to hold you steady against him while the other hand moves to your clit. He continues fucking into you, slowing his pace and letting you feel and admire every inch of his length, while rubbing circles into your clit.

“Only the prettiest and smartest girls get to cum on their teacher’s cock.”

The new position fills you in such a good way. Your hole opens up more for him yet he feels so much thicker, everything is tighter. You're loudly whining and moaning, feeling the waves of pleasure get higher and higher. You’re getting close. You know that feeling.

“Schlatt, Schlatt!” You cry out, leaning your head back on his shoulder. “I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” He keeps the pace of his cock the same but rubs your clit faster and faster.

“That’s it, cum for Daddy. Cum all over your teacher’s cock.” You take a deep breath, chancing the high, focusing on the sensations in your body and his hands all over you, not letting your orgasm get away. You feel the peak, your muscles squeezing and your body jolting against Schlatt. “That’s it, that’s it.” You let out a breath, and feel the tension leaving, your muscles unclenching, and body go limp. Your legs go numb, as Schlatt pulls you closer, preventing you from falling out of his grip. “Good girl, fuck. Let’s sit down.” Your ears start ringing and you feel yourself fully relax, letting the orgasm cleanse all the stress from your body and brain, as Schlatt sits in his chair and pulls your limp body down into his lap.

He puts your head on his shoulder and scoops you up like a baby, comforting you through the high, playing with your hair and gently rubbing your thigh.

You slowly return to your senses, noticing how quiet the room has gotten, you and your teacher snuggling up together half naked, both wondering what just happened and how things are going to feel after this.

“Hey, Kid?” Schlatt hums out.

“Yeah?” Your voice croaks out.

“You gotta get going, I really don’t want us getting in trouble.” You feel your heart sink, not wanting to leave. A weird part of you hoping he’d let you stay or even less likely, invite you over. God, you aren’t just sexually attracted to him.

You sigh, leaving the warmth of his body to put your panties back on and fix your appearence. You point to his semi-hard dick.

“Do you want me to finish yo–”

“No, no, go home. I got it.” You nod your head, walking toward the door, opening the blind, and slowly undoing the lock. You walk out into the hallway and after you close the door behind you, you take one last look back and see Mr. Schlatt pull out a bottle of whiskey and take a big swig.

Atsushi in ep one:

THE SWIMMING PIC HAS ME SOBBING 😭😭

blood moon — t.n. & m.r. part 1

pairing: dark!theodore nott x fem!reader x dark!mattheo riddle. (mattheo makes his appearance in pt2)

warnings: smut 18+, dubcon, breaking and entering, violence, blood, knives (cutting into skin), rough oral sex (m. receiving), mask kink, mentions of murder, swearing

word count: 4k

summary: purge night— a night you’ve feared all year despite coming from a rich and powerful family. but when six masked men show up at your door, are you really as safe as you thought?

the purge au… moodboard. nav. more.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorised for use during the purge; all other weapons are restricted. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m, when the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers—”

“Blah, blah, blah… we get it. Same shit every year.” Pansy sighed dramatically through the phone, her tone dripping with annoyance. You could tell she was rolling her eyes, and you didn’t need to see her to know she was slouched lazily somewhere. 

Not much later, the ominous, bone-chilling sirens blared violently through the entire city, blasting through the walls and echoing in the still-empty streets. The all so familiar sound never failed to give you goosebumps all over your stiffened body, instantly raising your heartbeat. You briefly closed your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggled to control your shaky breathing. 

“Hellooo? Are you still there or have you been murdered already?” Pansy joked with a taunting laugh. Your eyes snapped open, her static-filled voice dragging you back to reality, and her humorous tone nearly making you forget the reality of this cruel night. 

Because it wasn’t just any regular night— it was Purge Night. The one night you’d been dreading all year, every year, in which all crime becomes legal for twelve long hours. Logically, you were well aware that you had nothing to fear. Your parents were successful entrepreneurs with plenty of money to afford the most advanced security equipment, keeping you safe from any outside danger.

Yes, to protect you, and only you. Not them— they were out at a purge party, the details of which you didn’t even want to know, shamelessly networking with other high-profile elites while the poor were brutally murdered in the streets surrounding them. Everything about this night gave you a sickening feeling in your stomach. But of course, you knew it would be fine. All you had to do was survive— survive in your mansion, surrounded by unbreachable security. Nothing was going to happen. 

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” you responded, your voice tinged with irritation as you hurried from your bedroom down the wooden stairs to the security room, figuring that if you could check the cameras around the house, it might calm you down a bit. You couldn’t shake the feeling of needing to tiptoe carefully down each step, as though someone might hear you— which was ridiculous, considering how large and heavily secured the house was. 

The eerily quiet house was broken by the first distant, chilling screams of pure terror from outside, making you grimace as you opened the creaky door to the small room, your eyes instantly squinting at the many bright screens that made your eyes burn. 

“It’s just… I hope this night will be over soon, that’s all.” you continued, one hand holding the phone close to your ear while your eyes fleetingly scanned over the security cameras, which were strategically placed to cover every corner outside the house. 

“Oh please, don’t be such a scaredy-cat! Every year it goes just fine, so this year will be no different. When has anything…” Pansy chattered in her usual attempt to comfort you, completely unaware that her words were only doing the opposite, when her voice slowly faded away into the background and your eyes narrowed at one of the top-right screens, which was focused on your front door. What the fuck?

With your heart nearly pounding out of your chest and your hand shakily gripping the phone, you inched closer to the screen, moving as slowly as possible, almost as if the slowness would somehow alter the nightmare playing out before you. A sudden coldness washed over you, your eyes rapidly blinking. No, no, no… this can’t be happening. 

On the pixelated, dark screen, you saw six masked men standing in front of your door, their heads tilted as they stared right at the cameras. You felt lightheaded, your left hand reaching up to lightly clasp your throat, the panic threatening to overwhelm you once you noticed the various weapons they were holding— baseball bats, knives, axes, and god knows what else.

“P—pansy… I, uh… there are people standing in front of my door…” you stammered shakily, still staring at the screen, your body frozen in place with your hand gripping the phone so tightly that your knuckles turned white and your breathing became ragged and uneven. 

“Oh, they’re probably just trying to scare you, babe. I mean, come on, they can’t even come in for fuck’s sake!” she let out a mocking laugh as the chaotic thoughts in your head raced a hundred miles an hour, leaving you paralysed with uncertainty. 

“Pansy, what the fu— you know what? Forget it.” you snapped, your trembling fingers tapping frantically at the screen before finally ending the call, frustrated at not being taken seriously by your best friend— though, to be fair, when had she ever? 

You hastily slipped your phone into your back pocket, already dreading the snarky text she was sure to send you for ending the call, before shifting your attention back to the screen. One of the men removed his mask, prompting you to move even closer with narrowed eyes, your forehead nearly touching the cold glass. 

“Good evening.” he called out in a stoic, chilling voice, his shiny black hair neatly styled, and his stance tall, commanding and unmistakably intimidating. 

“Sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, but let me kindly introduce myself. My name is Tom, and these guys— they are my friends.” The scene you were intently staring at filled you with pure terror— this unknown man named Tom, surrounded by men in masks, each carrying weapons that could easily kill you, weapons that were already completely soaked in blood, the dark droplets dripping ominously onto your front porch. 

“This can go one of two ways; you simply let us in, and we will steal— sorry, I mean take whatever we desire, and then, we leave! Or…  we can do this the hard way. But I can assure you, you will not survive the latter.” His tone was almost amused as he finished speaking, and through the grainy pixels, you could see a controlled, sinister smile spreading across his pale face. 

“Do not think you are invincible. We can enter any home we want. And we will want, as wanting is our will on this fine purge night. Do not force us to hurt you.”

His menacing words sent tingles across your skin, all the muscles in your body tightening. And for a good ten minutes, they did nothing but stand there, staring straight into the camera, waiting—expecting—for you to open the door for them. 

It was a chilling sight. Almost as if you were staring at a photograph, the men stood completely still, their blood-covered hands tightly gripping their equally blood-soaked weapons, knowing your blood would be next to splatter across them, mixing with that of other poor, helpless victims. 

When they realised you weren’t going to open the door, Tom gave his men a quick signal, waving his finger in the air, which caused you to cock your head in both curiosity and unease.

“Alright then.” He said, the sinister smile on his face growing wider. But it was fine. You knew they couldn’t come inside anyway. Your house was so securely protected, there was no way they could come in and— Is that a fucking blowtorch? 

“Yes, we are prepared. And you— oh, you chose the wrong option.” Tom coldly stated as if he could read your mind, dragging the words in a chilling tone. Two of his men quickly got to work, the blowtorch slowly cutting through the thick metal doors, meanwhile, Tom continued to stare directly at the camera, his evil, dark smile never faltering, his soulless eyes not blinking once.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was when real panic set in, your eyes flickering with pure terror as you slowly backed away from the screens, gripping whatever furniture was nearby to steady yourself. You hurried out of the room, realising this was the time to hide.

Quickly but silently running up the stairs again, you heard the agonising sound of the blowtorch cutting through the metal, sending shivers all over your body and urging you to move faster. 

You burst into your room, breathless, slamming the door behind you and you panickedly scanned the small space, frantically searching for the best hiding spot. There weren’t many options, but the closet seemed like your only chance, so without hesitation, you flung the door open, stepped inside, and crouched down, wrapping your trembling arms tightly around your knees. 

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.” You kept repeating to yourself in a quiet, trembling voice, desperately trying to gaslight yourself into believing it. But who the fuck are you kidding? They were inevitably coming in, and then… well, you didn’t even want to think about it.

You gasped loudly at the sudden sound of a loud bang, followed by distant voices and approaching footsteps downstairs. Nibbling on your bottom lip and one hand clutching your throat, you struggled to calm your ragged breathing, but hoping to make out the conversation happening downstairs— although you weren’t even sure if you wanted to hear it in the first place. 

“We are coming, aha! And we will find you, you little fucking bitch” an unfamiliar voice taunted from down the stairs followed by a menacing laugh, clearly relishing the undeniable fear they were instilling in you as the footsteps and faint chatter grew louder with every passing second.

“Mattheo, control yourself. Search for the girl downstairs, and Theo, you check upstairs. The rest of us will take whatever is valuable and leave for the next house.” You heared Tom instruct two of his men, his voice stern and cold, before adding, “Oh, and whatever you do, make it as painful as possible. I want her to suffer.” 

Goosebumps covered your entire body hearing the chilling words, and you could tell that these guys didn’t fuck around. Everything about them was incredibly organised and prepared. This wasn’t their first time purging. No, they knew exactly what they were doing.

Heavy, resolute footsteps then made their way up the stairs, each deep step resonating through the house, making the silence feel like it was closing it. Theo. There was no way out of this. The only thing you could do was pray that he wouldn’t find you. But deep down, you knew he would. 

“You can’t hide from me, piccola.” a deep, husky voice teased, his voice slightly muffled by the mask he wore. It surprised you to hear a foreign accent— Italian, you guessed. And fuck, you could punch yourself in the face right now for finding it… hot. 

The steps grew louder, tantalisingly slow, until his footsteps reached your room. Your hand flew to your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your brows furrowed as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on steadying your breath. Your heart beat out of your chest, and you worried it was beating loud enough for him to hear. 

Then it was quiet. No sounds. You swallowed, your mouth feeling dry with tears brimming at your waterline, and you gasped when you suddenly heard his voice so close to you. Thank fucking god you still had your mouth covered. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” He said in a dark, knowing manner, and the only thing you could do at this very moment was repeat ‘please don’t find me’ in your head while only hoping your death would be less painful than Tom had ordered it to be. “I know you are...” 

The closet door then abruptly swung open, causing you to let out a loud, surprised gasp. The tears you had so desperately tried to suppress now uncontrollably streamed down your cheeks as your head shot up. Soft ‘no’s slipped from your lips when he grabbed you by the arm and aggressively pulled you out of the closet, the words barely audible and you panickedly shook your head, feeling lightheaded due to pure fear. 

“Shut up, cazzo.” he muttered irritably as he threw you on your bed with exasperated aggression. And you immediately complied— not only because he asked you to, but because you didn’t want Matthew to hear you, knowing that Theo had found you, worried of what he might do to you. Matthew… Was his name even Matthew? 

He stood still before you, and for the first time, you took him in, scanning him from head to toe as his imposing, tall frame loomed over you, casting a shadow over where you sat on the bed.

A white mask fully covered his face, and in his right hand, he held a bloody, sharp knife, causing you to gulp in fear. Oh, he looked fucking terrifying— but there was something else, something other than fear deep inside of you. A feeling you desperately tried to suppress. A feeling you felt ashamed to feel. A feeling you could not bring yourself to admit. 

“Huh.” he commented, his head tilting slightly to the left. “Tom didn’t tell me you were such a pretty little thing.” he reached his hand out, his thumb brushing over your cheek, causing you to instinctively pull away, stiffening under his touch. 

“Così carina.” he chuckled mockingly, and your eyes were drawn to his hand that was expertly spinning the knife. His other hand then abruptly gripped your hair, making you gasp, and he slightly tilted your head to expose your neck. 

From your peripheral vision, you could see the bloody knife drawing closer to your neck, making you instantly shut your eyes with furrowed brows, knowing this was it. 

“Can’t wait to see these white sheets turn red.” Theo taunted, but you were shaking, crying and nervously biting down on your lip so hard that blood welled up, waiting for the moment you finally felt the sharp knife against your delicate skin.

And then you did. You felt the cold blade lightly dig into the skin of your neck, the sharp, stinging sensation causing you to tightly grip the sheets, followed by fresh, crimson droplets of blood slowly trickling down your skin— but then he stopped.

“Hm. You know what, bella?” Theo paused for a moment, crouching down to get on eye level with you. The closer he got to you, the faster your heart raced, your whole body heating up with a mix of fear and something else. The deep sense of guilt you felt for feeling… this way gnawed at you from the inside. 

“I might just have other plans for you.” Your head snapped toward him, and you hissed at the fresh cut stretching open, your hand instinctively reaching to the wound, carefully dabbing your fingers on the blood still trickling out.

“You wanna live?” He questioned, and you reluctantly nodded, still unable to shake off the feeling of unease, even as a slight sense of relief—or maybe hope— began to grow inside of you. 

“Then I advise you to get on your knees before I change my mind.” You blinked rapidly, unsure if you heard him correctly. Surely not. 

“I— what?” You stammered, breathing in so fast you nearly choked on air as your heart pounded out of your chest. 

“Oh, you heard me.” He rose to his feet, and your eyes intently followed his every movement. The way the moonlight seeped through the blinds illuminated him, and for the first time, you could clearly see his ocean-blue eyes gazing down at you with intense focus— the only feature of his face that was visible through the mask. 

He reached the knife out again, causing you to flinch, but this time he pressed it under your chin to lift your head, the pointy end digging into your soft skin.

“You don’t think I noticed?” he began, and you sat frozen, knowing that a single movement would press the knife deep into your skin. 

“You don’t think I noticed the way you looked at me with those pretty eyes?” You raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, unsure of what he was hinting at, and you absolutely hated this— the vagueness of his words. You hated having to guess what he meant. It made you anxious. 

“I have purged a lot of people, bella. And there is one thing aaall of them have in common— they all have this same, fearful look in their eyes.” he continued, and it made you wonder what he saw in yours. 

“But you… cazzo. With you, I see something else sparkling in those pupils.” The way the mask muffled his voice made you unconsciously lean in closer to hear him better, and he did the same, but for an entirely different reason, until you were merely inches apart. It was a strange observation to make in such a moment like this, but oddly enough, he smelt nice, very nice. A pleasant, musky cologne with the undertone of cigarettes filled your senses. 

“With you I see… lust, yearning, desperation.” he whispered into your ear, the knife digging deeper into your skin, yet still not deep enough to draw blood. Your eyes shot wide open before locking with his, and you felt caught. He hit the hammer right on the nail. 

“Go on, tell me I’m fuckin’ wrong.” but you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. Because he wasn’t. Your eyes darted nervously around the room, unable to meet those intense, piercing eyes as the ache between your legs only grew stronger. 

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Bet your panties are soaked already, aren’t they?” you heard a muffled, condescending chuckle coming from under his mask as he slowly twisted the knife under your chin. You so desperately wanted to bite back, to defend yourself, to tell him that he was being ridiculous— but the words were stuck in your throat.

“So… back to where we were.” he growled as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, suddenly remembering Matthew wandering around downstairs and being able to walk in at any time, causing him to rush. 

“C’mon sweetheart. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me if you want to live, a’ight? If Mattheo finds us, it’s over for you.” Ohhhh, Mattheo… right, right.

You hesitantly walked over to him before getting on your knees right in front of him— right in front of his already hard erection trapped in his boxers, desperately wanting to escape as the tip formed a wet patch of precum on the fabric. 

“Well… you know I could just kick you in the balls right now and run away?” There it finally was— the words that had been stuck in your throat, and the boldness inside of you that had finally come free. It was that unexpectedly tender demeanour of his emerging in brief moments, causing you to see him in a humane light, which stilled your fears. 

He scoffed before aggressively gripping your hair and pulling your head back, causing you to hiss at the fresh wound on your neck stinging at the movement. He drew closer to you before suddenly holding the knife to your throat again, the softness you’d glimpsed earlier vanishing in an instant.

“Oh yeah? You don’t think I’m gonna find you and cut you open? Go for it. Give it a try. Let’s see how that ends.” he warned in a low, menacing tone, your brows furrowing as you clenched your teeth, staring right into his narrowed eyes. 

“Acting as if you aren’t practically begging to suck me off right now, tsk. Hurry the fuck up.” he ordered in a harsh tone, abruptly letting go of your hair and retracting the knife from your throat.

Realising you had no other choice but to follow his orders, you stared up at his masked face, before your gaze fell on his boxers. You could tell he was big just from the imprint through the thin fabric— oh, there was no doubt in that. Reluctantly, you drew your head closer to his crotch, teasingly using your teeth to pull the waistband of his boxers down before slowly sliding them off. 

“See, I knew you were a fucking slut.” he growled, his amusement evident as his erection sprang free against his toned abs, precum glistening at the tip. Oh, well fuck. He was indeed huge, causing your eyes to widen momentarily as you swallowed hard. You glanced back up at him one more time, and he gave you a sharp nod, his hand on the back of your head pressing insistently, urging you closer. 

Your head slowly inched closer to his intimidatingly large cock, and you started with placing soft kitten licks on the tip, tasting the salty precum, when suddenly a mischievous smile began to curve your glossed lips. In one swift, unexpected motion, you wrapped your mouth around his throbbing length, firmly pressing your teeth into the skin while at the same time your hand darted to his balls, your sharp nails digging deep into the sensitive flesh. 

“That fuckin’ hurts, you bitch. Cazzo!” Theo cursed, aggressively pushing you back until you hit the bed, yet the same mischievous smile on your face only widened. It confused him how the terrified, weak girl he saw earlier had transformed into… this. 

“Didn’t expect you to be such a fucking pussy.” you challenged him, fire burning in your eyes. Not because you wanted to die, but because deep down you knew you weren’t going to. If he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done that already. With the precum leaking from his painfully hard erection right in front of you, you knew the only thing on his mind was finding his release. He was a man after all— simple, driven by his desires.

“You better shut that little mouth—” 

“Or what? You're gonna threaten me again with that stupid little knife—” before you could even finish your sentence, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you roughly towards him, his cock forcing its way into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat instantly, triggering your gag reflex as you struggled to breathe around his thick, aching erection. He quickly set a brutal rhythm, bucking his hips aggressively into your mouth, and you felt your eyes well with tears, saliva running down your chin. 

“If you stop, I’ll make you fucking regret it.” His hand gripped your hair in a tight ponytail, pulling you to meet his thrusts as he relentlessly fucked your mouth. Gagging sounds filled the room as he forced your head down as far as possible, groaning at the sight beneath him— a sight that could so easily make him come already.

“You wanted this from the start, huh? Such a pathetic—” Theo’s sentence was then abruptly cut off when the door suddenly swung open and slammed against the wall, causing you both to freeze and stare, wide-eyed and horrified. A chill ran down your spine as you noticed another masked man standing in the doorway, holding a blood-soaked baseball bat while casually leaning against the doorframe. Oh no.  

“Well, well, well… look what we have here. You really thought I wouldn’t find out, Theodore? How cute.” 

Mattheo. 

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

a/n: thank you sm for reading ^_^!!!!!!! this was supposed to be one long fic but i decided to cut in into two (or maybe more if needed) parts! im not sure when the next part will be posted but ill try to work on it soon !!! <3

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the brain worms were at it again. i go to sleep now.

also DARE I SAY ... this look ... ? oh yeah. yeah.

Warnings: single dad! baji, preschool teacher! reader.

Notes: this one right here could be- I mean- maybe…unedited read at your own risk.

Keisuke is panicking.

He keeps glancing in his rear view mirror at his little girl who’s happily humming along to whatever is playing from her iPad.

She doesn’t seem to share the same bone chilling fear as him. His grip on the steering wheel is tight enough that his knuckles have gone white.

They’re fifteen minutes away from his daughter’s official first day of school and Baji is five seconds away from turning this car around and taking her to work with him.

She giggles in the backseat and Baji swallows a lump of emotion and sighs when it settles in the pit of his stomach like lead.

“You excited princess?”

Her little head bobs, her pigtails (and the giant bows tied around each one) sways with the motion.

“Words Kaori, remember to use your words,” he reminds her.

“Yes daddy,” she replies, eyes falling to her iPad once more.

Baji gulps when the gates to the school come into view. He takes a deep breath and pulls into the driveway. The parking lot isn’t full because he’s twenty minutes early. When he finds a spot however his panic mounts.

This is real. This is happening. His daughter is starting school.

“We’re here!” she squeals when she finally looks up from the screen. She wriggles in her car seat, clearly wanting out.

Baji frowns.

“Daddy!” she insists. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Baji wants to cry. “Okay, princess. Okay,” he resigns himself to being miserable for the rest of the day. Perhaps for the rest of his existence. This is where it all starts. With school.

He hoists her out of the car seat and grabs her backpack and lunchbox. Keisuke is extremely proud of the fact that he, Keisuke Baji, despite his questionable past, has raised a daughter on his own.

He’d had to learn to comb and take care of hair other than his own (a lot goes into having healthy hair apparently), accept the color pink (of which there were over fifty shades), pretend tea parties didn’t make him uncomfortable (it’s the chairs), wear glitter make up (glitter can never be cleaned correctly), sing and dance (he’s a performer but only for her) and of course, what self respecting father of a girl hadn’t perfect mani/pedis.

His life had taken a dramatic three sixty when Kaori was born. But there wasn’t a single day since then that he regretted. He loves her more than he can actually put into words.

Which explained why he was on the verge of tears as he fit his arm through the strap of her sparkly, pink backpack and wrapped his hand around her much smaller one.

On the steps leading up to the front doors stood Kaori’s teacher. He’d met you previously when he’d registered Kaori and even then, dressed in jeans and a t shirt you’d been beautiful. His panic subsides a little when you give him a small smile.

“Mr. Baji,” you barely spare him a glance and Baji might have been insulted if not for the way your gaze immediately drops to his daughter. “And you must be little Kaori,” you squat to her level and Baji’s heart stutters. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you! Your daddy has told me so much about you.”

“He has?” Kaori asks, and Baji lifts a brow at her when she turns to him with a skeptical look on her face.

“I have,” Baji replies. “This is your teacher Kaori,” he holds his breath as his daughter eyes you. Kaori Baji isn’t shy. In fact she’s one of the most outspoken kids he’s ever met. It’s easy to know when she dislikes someone or something because she has no problem pointing it out. It’s whether she likes someone or not that’s the real issue.

“Do you like tea parties?” Kaori asks, and Baji knows this is the million dollar question. One wrong answer and today could easily turn into a shit show.

“Oh,” you gush. “I love tea parties! Do you wanna see my tea set?”

Baji blinks, eyes widening when Kaori releases his hand and takes a step toward you. She nods and then as though catching herself she responds. “Yes, please.”

“Fantastic! But you’ll have to say goodbye to daddy,” you say carefully. “Is that okay?”

Baji’s breath leaves him in a pained rush. His panic coming back full force. He purses his lips, eyes glued to Kaori as she considers your request.

She turns to Baji motioning for him to come closer. He squats. “You have to go,” she says, and Baji’s heart shrivels.

“I know princess,” his throat burns, as he pulls the backpack from his shoulder and helps Kaori into it. “Will you be okay without me?”

Kaori gives him a look like she’s offended and Baji might have laughed under different circumstances. She frowns, stepping into his arms when he spreads them for her. Her little arms wrap around his neck tightly. Baji’s eyes close briefly, his heart thundering as he squeezes her. When he opens them he finds your eyes on him.

Kaori steps out of his arms. “I’ll be okay,” she confirms.

Keisuke glances from her to you and then back to her. “Okay,” he presses a kiss to her forehead, and stands. You stand with him and Kaori takes your hand.

“First days are always the hardest,” you comment.

Baji can only smile weakly at you as you guide Kaori deeper into the school. His daughter turns and gives him a short dismissive wave before turning her full attention on you.

Baji stands there long enough that the parking lot starts to fill up.

She’ll be fine he tells himself when he finally forced himself to leave. She’s a big girl he repeats as he forced himself not to think about what could be happening to her now.

It’s only a couple of hours, she’ll be fine.

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Is Toji jealous of a helpless baby? Oh, he absolute is!

Warnings: Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Isn’t he the cutest?” You gush as Megumi yawns. Toji clicks his tongue. He’s cuter– Plus, he has teeth. The stupid baby doesn’t even have a way to chew food. “You look just like your daddy, oh my…”

“You got that right!” Toji agrees, making a chuckle leave your lips. You were afraid that once the baby came along Toji would act weird, but no. He’s still an overgrown child when it comes to you; Toji isn’t willing to share you with anyone, not even his own son.

Megumi begins to cry, getting fussy as his drowsiness gets the best of him. Would he really be a baby if he didn’t cry for everything? His eyes are getting heavy, and he doesn’t know what happens when they close, of course he’s scared.

“He didn’t get the crybaby part from me though.” Toji quickly defends himself, making you click your tongue. It’s odd to watch your husband compete with a baby, but did you expect less?

“Toji he’s a baby!” You remind him, but that doesn’t impress him. You end up sighing, handing the crying baby to your husband. Megumi isn’t only your son, but his as well. Toji can bear some of the responsibilities. “Put him to sleep, I’m going to take a shower.”

“But–” Toji begins, but he can’t finish protesting before he’s carrying a chunky baby. Megumi was born so small, but at four months, the baby is nearly 17 pounds. His little cheeks are so round and kissable now, something that the man would never admit outloud.

Toji sneaks one of those kisses on the cheek before telling Megumi, “I can pretend to stop hating you now that we’re alone.”

Toji puts the baby on his chest, hand caressing his small back. Something that works charms with the baby. Toji smells the small amount of hair on his head, kissing him again. “You know I just do that because I want your mommy’s attention.”

The crying dies down, sleep getting the best of the baby. He can fight it and fight it, but that’s the one thing that will always win: sleep. He’s just like Toji in that sense too. 

“I love you, Megumi.” Toji says, eyes glimmering at the small baby. He lightly chuckles as he mutters, “You’re still not cuter than me though.”

littol edit for the masses, the brain worms were Getting to Me. and bad. so bad.

someone take away my videostar for my own wellbeing

Just submitted a Weezer related bedroom tour to Schlatt (me and my friend both did, I’m the one with the Brain Bell singed guitar :3)

((Well, if my video makes it))

This is a crossover between OHSHC and Tokyo Revengers, and the reader is AMAB Nonbinary, for those who are curious.

_Wildflower_

Everytime you touch me I wonder how he felt

Pairs: #Satoruxreader and Suguruxreader

Tw: angst, literally sad

Inspired by the song Wildflower by Billie Eilish, you know it's about to be heavy on the heart

_14th February 2017_

"Suguru?"

The quick breath he let out was immediately sucked back into his throat as he raised a rough palm over his face making sure to wipe at the bottom of his eyelids, he was already short of breath and his head felt heavy of the constant-

"Are... Are you crying?"

At his side in less than a second you wrapped your arms around his frame and hugged him, his been alone for alittle bit to long in the bedroom of the hotel you booked for valentines day

"I got some of that heart shaped chocolates from the store down at the lobby"

Your voice soft and your tender hands rubbed at his temples to soothe any ache, fingers softly caressing his head and lead down to his soft, slightly wet from the shower he took, long strands of hair.

"The ones with the caramel inside?"

His voice was hoarse and cracked with each word, just how long has he been crying by himself?

"Yeah, you wanna talk about what's wro-"

"I found this movie Satoru suggested we could watch"

Suguru's warmth left your body as he got up from the bed and walked to the TV to set it up, Satoru hasn't spoken to him-or you since you announced your relationship.

_30th June 2016_

"I don't-I don't fucking understand why... Why she would just up and L-leave like that"

A angry huff of air escaped his nose, he paced the hard wood floor and dragged a hand down his face, his teeth clenched so hard he could break his molers, Satoru was pissed and fucking heartbroken, it hurt so bad that he couldn't breathe properly

"Satoru... I'm sorry"

"No suguru it's not... It's not your fault, I fucking I fucking l-loved her so much"

Gojo couldn't stop the crack in his voice for the second time, unbeknownst to himself a lone tear from his face down his pale cheek and til he tasted the salty liquid he shook his head and covered his face with both of his hands

Crouched down into Suguru's arms he wailed til his body shook, his tall frame felt so small into his best friends arms. Even though you left Satoru, Suguru have never seen him cry

"It's gonna be okay I promise, you'll get through this"

_July 2016_

Blue eyes met Purple irises, Gojo bumped his shoulder against Geto as he passed him

"Wait-Satoru.."

"Shut up"

Suguru choked up and he clutched his phone tighter, Satoru saw your ID caller on his phone as they stood outside the candy store before the start of the movie

"... What about the movie"

"I thought... Fuck the movie, don't ever fucking speak to me again-You... YOU FUCKING HEAR DON'T FUCKING SPEAK TO ME!"

Blue eyes blown out in anger, the silence so loud Suguru could practically hear the shatter of his heart, couldn't even speak a word to stop Satoru from walking away from him. He tried, he really tried to say something to ease some hurt to not get that fucking look from his best friend each time they crossed paths.

_December 2018_

"Suguru... I love you"

The warmth that spread across his chest made him feel so hot that the redness was evident from his eyes to his neck and cheeks

"I-im sorry for springing this on so quickly I just really wanted to express my feelings I know it's been really awkward this year but I feel so... I feel so comfortable with you, your so understanding and and helpful and I couldn't imagine being with someone else-"

The feeling of his lips onto your own felt like a rush of cool air on a hot day, like warmth on a snow day, it felt like it was meant to be. You made mistakes in the past but Suguru is not going to be another mistake that's a promise.

His hands smoothed over your flushed cheek as you slept fast asleep, your swollen lips dried with the mixture of his and your saliva, your skin tattered with his marks. Satoru... Why does he think of Satoru everytime you are together, it hurts sometimes, like he was burning on the inside

"I know... I crossed the line-"

Suguru spoke against your hair as he moved closer and hugged your body closer to his own

"But... Do you ever think of him... See him in the back of your mind when you look at me too?"

Subconsciously he hugged your body tighter against his own muttering how he should just put it all behind him. It's been two years since he last saw his best friend and you were already... Carrying something so precious inside you.

New Year's resolution

redid an old sketch, this time with his true form proportions

☆ Something about you - S. Kusuo

synopsis: Saiki Kusuo Boyfriend Headcanons

pairing: Saiki Kusuo x fem! reader

warnings: fluff! (kinda ooc saiki sorry guys 😓)

❝ There was something 'bout you that now i can't remember ❞

- Saiki Kusuo, a physic who thinks everyone around him is annoying, who would've thought that he was capable of having a girlfriend?

- Saiki Kusuo who has a soft spot for his girlfriend

- Saiki Kusuo who would take you to dreamy dates, literally. such as a date in Paris or going to Korea, or even going to the moon if you want yes he would do anything for you

- Saiki Kusuo who would be so annoyed to Nendou and Kaido for interrupting your time together for some ramen

- Saiki Kusuo who's mother absolutely adores you

- Saiki Kusuo who brought you to his grandparents and ofcourse his grandpa was already planning his speech for your wedding for once saiki agrees to his grandpa's ideas

- Saiki Kusuo who would give up his coffee jelly for you. YES! HIS COFFEE JELLY. he would gladly give it to you

- Saiki Kusuo who always wants to spend time with you

- Saiki Kusuo who puts your safety above anyone

- Saiki Kusuo who would be very scared to tell their s/o about his physic powers, thinking if he would be hated by them

- Saiki Kusuo who would love you eternally and would do anything for you

a/n: HI GUYSS HUHU SO SORRY IT'S KINDA OOC 😓😓 hope you all like it though, next post would be a kny post about Tomioka Giyuu UWKAAAJAJAAK TYSM FOR REQUESTING!!

- cheatea ☁️

Ryoumen Sukuna

Long Fics

Defiance | wc: 106k (complete)

summary: a psychic shares her vision with the king, saying that his soulmate would replace all 5 of his concubines one day. he had her banned from the premises for that absurd prediction. it wasn't until months later when he started believing the old bitch, after one cute yet disobedient servant started working at the shrine.

Controller | wc: 45.4k (on going)

summary: working as wasuke itadori's personal assistant wasn't all that bad. you got paid well, the hours were reasonable, he wasn't a complete asshole like most CEO's were. but there was a catch, and it came in the form of his charismatic son that trouble always seemed to follow. or maybe he was the problem? just don’t say you weren’t warned about him.

Short Fics

Hesitance | wc: 23.3k (complete)

summary: sukuna is a gym owner, and very fond of his least productive employee. this series includes a short fic + collection of moments the two have shared together during readers time working for him. side stories can be read on their own, but I highly suggest reading the hesitance 1 first to get a good idea of their dynamics.

No Rest for the Wicked | wc: 3.7k (on going)

summary: in which a certain mafia leader executes your employers entire clan, yet instead of killing you along with all the other house staff members, he decides to spare your life and makes you his own little maid. you hate him, he knows you hate him, and that's one of the many things he finds amusing about you. from this little blurb

One-Shots/Drabbles

Unspoken Bond

summary: sukuna gets into a motorcycle accident and forgets who you are.

husband!sukuna

nympho!sukuna

king!sukuna

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dividers by @cafekitsune

Who wants to be Toman's darling? Raise your hand 🙋

If you raised your hand this tier is for you: Spicy Foreplay

thinking about teen! nanami who looked at you with heart eyes when you both walked around the hallways of the busy school you went to, his heart fluttered at even the slightest nudge you'd give him. you were a little oblivious, but that didn't stop teen! nanami from repeatedly throwing hints and trying his best to get attention from you. especially when you walked down your driveway outside your house when he picked you up for prom— you had thought it was a friendly gesture. he took your hand in his, as teen! nanami danced with you in the hall, his face lit up as he twirled you around.

and finally, teen! nanami who watched you walk down the isle 15 years later, you still looked as beautiful as ever. stunning, majestic and he couldn't take his eyes off you. as you both said your vows, he couldn't help but remember— teen! nanami who thought it was a small, simple crush. now, adult! nanami was with you forever.

requested by an anon.

type of photos their grandchildren found hehe

dilf! gojo who is a neighborhood favorite, and you’re lucky enough to have him as your neighbor too. he’s always the first one offering to help you with literally anything.

need a ride home? don’t worry, he’s already coming to pick you up, in a lambo, no less. is it really necessary? not really. will you stop him? of course not. need to stock up on groceries for the week? don’t worry, he’s already walking beside you at one of the fanciest grocery stores in town. turns out he knows the manager who’s willing to give you a discount on all your orders from now on! getting ready for a date? don’t worry, he’s already waving you goodbye as you leave, teasing you about “using protection.” 

imagine his joy horror when you come back home, a blubbering mess as you tell him how absolutely shitty the date went, and how you’re swearing off of guys forever. lucky for you, gojo isn’t just some guy, he’s your friendly neighbor next door, so obviously he’ll help you out like any good neighbor would.

by drilling his cock into your pussy, making you forget allll about that shitty date of yours. you don’t even need to say an outright thanks — your moans and the obscene sounds of your cunt squelching around his cock serve as more than enough encouragement for gojo to continue pounding into you, even when he himself is overstimulated and can’t keep up. 

he’s super caring too, catching your tears with his tongue just in time before they ruin your makeup in any way. even though you did do your makeup for that shitty guy and not for gojo, who’s very mad, he must make sure your efforts don’t go to waste. your clothes, or whatever’s left of it? on the floor in shreds, not that it matters. gojo’ll buy you five more pairs of the same dress if you’d like. but hey, love thy neighbor, right?

sukuna: he didn't even help btw

disclaimer: very much inspired by cdrama the princess royal and taking some elements from webtoon the broken ring: this marriage will fail anyway but of course, with my own twist here and there 🥹