༉ Ease Your Mind.

𖦹 IN YOUR SPIRIT, SINGING SOFTLY ⇆ yuuji itadori

┆︎summary ┆︎betrothed to an elusive shy highborn lady, yuuji is determined to uncover the woman hiding behind the harsh expectations placed upon her by her family.over the years, you grow to love one another.

┆︎tags┆︎medieval/fantasy au, prince yuuji, highborn lady reader, toxic families (readers), neurodivergent coded reader, betrothed childhood friends to lovers, fingering, missionary, loss of virginity, vanilla sex

┆︎wc┆︎8.7k (woo boy!)

┆︎an┆︎can this be a get-together fic if you're already married...?

the day dawns like any other.

it is well beyond the first hours of light touching the highest towers of castle itadori. the air is cool, crisp, gently wafting through the trees. from end to end, the entire land seemed to be waiting with baited breath as his father proposed a betrothal to you, a lady from not-so-distant lands.

tensions have been rising between your families, it is no secret to anyone. and yet, no one knows what started it, who fanned the flames of hatred between the two―only that his father wishes to fight no longer. marriage of his only son, to your families only daughter was the easiest way to promote prosperity between both families.

to yuuji, being betrothed to you is both a blessing a curse. he is only nine, and anxiety looms inside him in a way that is foreign. he had only heard of you in passing. in scant lessons from his tutors (when he bothered to attend) when they explained the lineages of other great houses. even then his tutors did not have much to say about you.

an enigmatic girl, said one. the other; a delicate whisper, in name and in mannerisms. not much at all to go on at all, yuuji thought―not when your older brothers were described in such apt words, endless details, it seemed, of their accomplishments for your house.

luckily, he did not consider himself the type of prince who let others do all of his thinking for him. determined to speak to the girl he was promised to marry, the young prince sought you out all on his own.

it takes him a while, wandering the halls of your castle. but eventually he finds you in one of the dayrooms. it's well into the afternoon, and his stomach grumbles.

you're sitting on your knees, resting them against a pillow, yellow gown fanning out against the fine hardwood floor. like a tulip, turned over. most of your black hair is pulled away from your face―like tufts of clouds. and two pieces frame the sides of your face, decorated with pale wooden beads. simple but intricate jewelry adorns your neck and wrists. and as if in juxtaposition with your overall dainty appearance, a bug skitters across your knuckles.

its long and spindly, with a black body and hundreds of brown little legs. it is easily the ugliest creature the young prince has ever seen. you make a game of it though, turning your cupped hands this way and that as you keenly watch the bug scatter across your brown hands.

"what is that?" yuuji asks, dramatically gagging, as he approaches. he sits beside you on the floor, peering over you to try and get a better look. you try to shield the creature from him, but when your eyes catch his own curious gaze, you relent, slowly showcasing it to him.

"it is a centipede" you say quietly, turning your attention back to the hideous creature. "the maids were going to kill it"

i can see why, he thinks to himself. "it is...interesting to look at" and strangely grotesque as well. yet the longer yuuji looks, the less disgusting it becomes.

you don't reply to that. yuuji allows himself several moments to study the face of his future bride. you're pretty―why no one has ever told him this before? the sun darting through the windows only highlights your skin, turns it to simmering gold before his very eyes.

he watches keenly as your fingertip softly traces the backside of the centipede. your head turns slightly to look at him. "would you like to hold it?" you ask, and your voice is so quiet that it could easily have been drowned out if there were more people present. "it does not bite, if you are worried about that, prince itadori"

another foreign feeling overtakes him. fear, apprehension, skittering around his body like the centipede over your hands.

"just yuuji, please" he warbles, steeling his nerves. "alright"

you only stare for a moment. "you do not have to, if you so wish"

"of course i don't want to" yuuji admits, pouting at you. "but you are, and you seem to like it. how bad can it be?"

you stare for a moment longer. your head turns instinctively towards the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming down the hall.

"i am not someone who needs to be impressed, my prince" you say, standing to your feet, quickly crossing the dayroom to reach the large window.

yuuji follows after you on lanky legs, unlatching the window and pushing it open. you stand on the tips of your toes, carefully depositing the centipede onto the side of the castle wall. it doesn't move, but with a gentle nudge from your fingertip, the grotesque beast understands the notion and scurries away to freedom.

and just in time too. the door opens, and your mother strides pridefully into the room, head held high, flanked by several ladies. she's so different from you, who seems to further fold into yourself when she makes herself known. he finds himself watching the scene was intense concentration.

he doesn't like what he sees.

your mother takes one long look between you and him. "prince itadori, what a surprise" she smiles, but it's a fake one. she looks about as pleased to see him as he does her. "your father is looking for you" she says dismissively towards him as she sinks her claws into your shoulder. "dear, come along now"

you follow after her like an obedient little duck, looking back at him only once before your mother forces you forward once more.

--

the young prince is hardly a boy, anymore. ten long years have passed since he's met you―and your mother and father have kept you on a tight leash. he's seen only glimpses of you, and now that he's met with you completely, yuuji finds that he is at a loss for words.

you have yet to see him, and in fact, your back is turned to him. your chaperone stares him down―like he might somehow defile you if he even dares to step too close. ijichi, yuuji's own chaperone, stands closer towards the garden gates. it had taken far longer than it should have to convince your parents to allow for a courtship.

they had seen no importance in it. the two of you were to be married, the agreements set around that notion ten years ago. why did it matter if he courted you properly if the end result was to be the same?

he thinks they are fools. it isn't uncommon at all for people to be arranged to marry. his parents were. but they fostered love for one another over the years. yuuji is determined to make it work with you.

yuuji takes a step forwards, then another. your head is craned downwards, towards your lap. the prince wonders what has caught your attention. at last, your chaperone ruins the serene moment with a cough and a pointed glance in his direction. you turn slowly, and it is with that motion that yuuji finally sees what had been closely capturing your attention―another one of your spindly beasts.

the sight of it brings a fond smile to his face. yuuji bounds eagerly towards you, taking the available seat next to you on the marble bench. just like when he was a boy, the prince cranes his neck, peering into your hands. "that is a large beetle" yuuji remarks, gazing at the insects unique markings. "where did you find it?"

you glance towards him―pretty brown eyes scanning over his features. "in the peonies" you tell him quietly, and place the beetle onto the grass, and both of you watch it as it scurries away.

there are perhaps a hundred different flowers. "which ones are the peonies?" he inquires, once he can no longer follow the bug with his eyes.

"the coral colored ones, there" you instruct, pointing, before bringing your hand back into your lap. yuuji watches the movement with rapt attention.

the prince hums in response. he knows that conversation isn't something you really seem to...like doing. from his observations of you over the years, you are content to be alone and in silence. yuuji wants to know where you go, when you recede into your mind like this.

the flowers are very pretty though, and it's just as nice to sit beside you and exist. but he practically vibrates with the need to ask you a thousand questions. to know as much as possible about you.

you like the gardens, that much is obvious. you seem completely relaxed and at peace here—more than he's ever seen in the past. how often do you come here? do you simply sit alone? are you lonely? you seem like you are. is it possible to be both lonely and at peace?

"prince ita–yuuji" you start and his attention comes to you swiftly. you seem to notice him looking, because you keep your own gaze focused on the sleeve of your dress. "...nevermind. it's nothing"

"no!" yuuji exclaims, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. he winces, and holds the back of his neck. "sorry—i don't mean to be loud. it's just that i care what you have to say, even if you don't think it's important"

you look surprised for a moment, before that expression too, falls away. you shake your head softly, looking at him. yuuji likes it when you look at him, he realizes. there is always so much to say in your gaze and yet none of it leaves your mouth.

"i was only going to apologize" you explain in that little voice of yours. he can excuse the way he scoots even closer—surely far closer than appropriate—at the softness of your voice. there is a sad expression, more melancholy than usual and one that the prince does not like. "i know i must not be the sort of woman you would have married willingly. but despite my faults—"

yuuji's face scrunches up. "did your mother tell you to say that?" he interrupts, sounding annoyed and far angrier than he means to. you aren't like the other women. why your mother insists on forcing you into the same little box, yuuji has no idea.

silence. behind you, he can hear the shifting of weight from one foot to the other of your chaperone.

"only that i should vow to do my best by you" you say, after a long while. there's more to it that you aren't saying. but yuuji knows the sort of woman your mother is, the sort of man your father is. it couldn't have been anything good. and he hates how they've sank their claws into your skin and made you think so lowly of yourself.

"did you want to be married?" inquires the prince instead, staring at you. slowly, you give a small shake of your head. "so it should be i that should apologize then?" yuuji asks once more, though there is a teasing edge to his words.

another shake of your head, innocent and genuine. "you've done nothing wrong"

"and neither have you" he says, watching the way your eyes widen slightly in shock. "i would rather be wed to someone real than someone constructed based on what they assume i do and do not want in a partner"

it's too early for yuuji to tell how he feels about you. and he knows he cannot expect you to know the same. he can't say, with complete certainty, that he loves you. but the way the corners of your mouth quirk up into a slight smile makes him believe that he could. or maybe, he is already well on his way to doing so.

--

yuuji wonders how many times he's going to find you like this : alone and with your back to him, the foreground in a scenic location. his foot crunches on a twig, and you turn to face him. there is recognition on your face and you do not look as closed off as you usually are. yuuji swears that he won't allow himself to wonder what that means.

"hello, yuuji," you greet softly, and the prince forces his legs to carry himself. he stands in front of you—raking his eyes over your form. you're dressed more formally than when you lounge around in the gardens. a soft colored gown, lavender or white he cannot tell, with pretty pearls embroidered in elegant designs. poufy sleeves, curling like your hair, and a shiny necklace around your throat.

"you look beautiful" he says honestly, clasping his hands behind his back so that he can fidget with him. his voice comes out slightly raspy, throat dry. he hopes you cannot tell.

you stare at him for a moment. "thank you" you say, clearly waiting for something.

yuuji startles. "sorry!" he says, chuckling. he can't stop staring. his eyes flit from your face—your eyes especially, and your mouth, and then to the curve of your neck. your shoulders, your waist. your hands, where your fingers are intertwined. yuuji swallows again, and curses his wandering eyes. "your father sent me to retrieve you. the hunt is starting soon"

this late into the courtship, and with the wedding not so far away, both of your chaperones have eased up, and yuuji has been alone with you on a few opportunities. and the prince knows that your reclusive nature only eases the minds of society. no scandalous activity of any sort will be taking place between the two of you. but each time has ended exactly as it is now—with him stumbling over his words and making an utter fool of himself.

softly, a frown etches its way onto your face. "i thought i had more time" you say quietly, more to yourself than to him. your eyes meet his own. "i do not wish to go" you tell him, nearly pleading.

"i know" yuuji responds, and stands a bit closer. his heart pounds in his chest, beating so loudly it feels physical— at the way you unconsciously lean in the direction of his voice. you take comfort from him. from his presence. even though you do not say it. you do not need to. he feels as though he is beginning to unravel you, and the fact that you let him makes him feel...makes him feel honored.

he knows how much you hate these events, but as his betrothed both 1of you know how important it is for you to place yourself into society. he wants to touch you, to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. but the prince knows the two of you are not there—not yet.

"will it comfort you to know that the hunt will not take very long?" he asks quietly, as the two of you begin to walk back with the rest of the royal hunting party.

"it does" you reply softly, looking up at him briefly with your captivating gaze. "you will make sure it doesn't suffer?" you ask quietly, after a moment.

you and your bleeding heart. "you have my word" yuuji promises solemnly, meaning every word.

as you both near the clearing, the prince can hear the sounds of conversation. the men clean and toy with their weapons, boasting loudly of the kills they are sure to earn. the women are all huddled away from the sun underneath a tent. the smell of fruit wafts from it, fresh and cloying. honey and lemon cakes too, if his nose does not betray him.

"prince itadori! we were waiting for you" calls out one of the lords. his hair is graying, but he can't possibly be older than forty years of age. he walks up to where he is standing at your and shakes his hand. "if you were to take any longer, i'm sure some of the elders would have fallen over"

"i apologize" yuuji tells him, though he does not truly mean it. "my lady's father asked that i retrieve her" the lord seems to have remembered that you are actually present and turns that sleezy smile in your direction. then he reaches out to offer to shake yours as well. you take a miniscule step towards yuuji, and decline the offer with a shake of your head, a quiet no thank you on your lips.

the lord is clearly miffed by your refusal. his mask cracks, minutely, before repaired. "it's rude to refuse to shake a lords hand, my lady. has no one taught you this?"

immediately, yuuji is stepping forward. he doesn't like the way the lord speaks to you, clearly. the disgust in his voice. the sneer of his upturned nose.

"that is my future wife, and your queen" yuuji's says lowly, blood boiling. he cuts in front of you, glaring down sharply at the stout man. "i will not allow her to be disrespected, in front of me no less, as though she is a simple-minded animal"

"my apologies, my prince— i only meant that—"

"what is meant is what was said" snaps yuuji, catching the attention of several other passerby's at his outburst. he opens his mouth to say more, but is stopped by the brand of your fingers wrapping gently around his forearm. yuuji's voice dies in his throat, eyes glancing down to stare at your slender brown fingers against his skin.

you're touching him. your melodious voice melts his brain as you begin to speak. "it is alright yuuji, i take no offense"

"i apologize for my tone" the prince apologizes, turning to face you more openly now—uncaring as the man slips away with a hurried excuse. "i wasn't too much of a brute, i hope?"

you laugh. laugh. at something he's said. it's soft, but its undeniably there. today is beginning to be one of many surprises. "only the normal amount, my prince" you respond, though he can hear the jest in your tone.

a horn blows, more for his benefit than anyone else's. it is with great that yuuji must leave you—though he stands and watches you enter the tent with the rest of the women before joining the men for the hunt. he is terribly useless during it all, mind clearly wandering. he is teased far more than he would like about the obvious subject of the prince's distraction. the hunt is over a handful of hours later and the men return to camp carrying a boar and a handful of rabbits.

those who are married go to their wives. those who are not either chat up the few ladies who remain unwed, or talk amongst themselves. yuuji busies himself with searching for you. the prince knows you'll be alone and he begins to make a game of it—searching in many nooks and crannies around the clearing. and he does find you, a short while later.

or rather, it is you who finds him.

"i was looking for you" yuuji says, stating the obvious, once you quietly alert him to your presence. he can spot his own parents talking, sharing a drink as they laugh, caught in their own world. before he can think twice about it, the prince begins to imagine the two of you in such a scenario.

you hold a small box in your hands, ignoring his words as you deposit it softly into his hands. "i regret that i could not see you for your birthday" you explain, folding your hands into one another as you stare down at your feet to avoid his gaze. "i hope you like it yuuji, though if you do not, my feelings will not be hurt"

"i love it" yuuji says, even though he has yet to open it. you lift your head, quirking a brow at him. the prince is quick to amend himself. "i mean—i will love it. because you are the one who got it for me" he tears open the box quickly, uncaring of how eager and childish it might make him look.

it is a pocket watch. small and golden, engraved with vines. when he flicks it open, a simple message awaits him ; happy birthday, yuuji and signed with your name. the surface is smooth, and yuuji runs the pad of his thumb across the front again and again.

"you fidget, sometimes, with your pocket watch—when you are troubled, i think" you explain, looking up at him. the prince holds your gift in one hand, reaching down to his pants to tug the old one off the chain. the surface of the clock itself is cracked. "you visited our house for tea, and when you opened your watch to check the time i noticed it was cracked."

the gold of your gifted watch stares up at him. yuuji's face reflects in its surface and he feels oddly near tears. it is a simple gift. he has received more expensive things by a long shot. but nothing compares to the fact that you see him well enough to notice his habits. to notice something as minuscule as knowing he needs a new watch.

i can't wait to marry you is perhaps too loaded for this moment. the last thing he wants to do is scare you off. things are going so well. you've just begun to open up around him. his presence brings you serenity instead of the discomfort of a stranger. he has the rest of his life to tell you how he feels.

so instead, yuuji swallows, looks at you and says, "thank you"

--

the morning sun streams through open windows. yuuji, who usually sleeps with his back facing them for a reason—wakes with the light pressing against his eyes. with a displeasure hiss, he turns over only to find that the right hand side of the bed is empty. the prince, now married as of one day, sits up hurriedly in bed.

once his alert mind catches up to him, you're easily found. you lean against the balcony, looking down. the line of your body is tense, and your shoulders are square. yuuji imagines that for you, there is much to be unhappy about. he tries to remind himself that none of it is because of him.

quietly, so as not to startle you, yuuji calls out your name. he stands beside you, shoulders nearly touching. if the wind blew hard enough, he imagines he could feel the tense side of your body against his own. "early riser, i take it?" yuuji inquires, turning so that his back is pressed against the rails. he can get a better look at you this way.

your mouth pulls down into a soft frown. your fingers twist and pull at one another anxiously. "occasionally" you tell him. then, "when i cannot sleep"

"what troubles you?" asks the prince, just barely fighting to tack on a love at the end of it. not there yet, he reminds himself. not there, we're not there yet.

it is probably the wedding. you don't like attention at the best of times. but not even you could weasel your way out of this one. imagine―a crown princess hiding out from her own wedding. and how alienating it must be, to live in a place that is not your home, surrounded by people you do not know. yuuji absentmindedly traces his lips with his finger, recalling the chaste kiss pressed to them at the ceremony the day before. was there more he could have done, to ease your discomfort?

"we did not consummate the marriage" you explain softly. nervously, you pull at your fingers.

"you did not want to" reminds the prince, not unkindly, staring at you, trying to piece together what you really mean. "why would i force you to do something you do not wish to? it is cruel"

"i should have pushed past my discomforts" you whisper softly, staring down at your bare feet. "they may argue that our marriage is less legitimate if i cannot produce an heir—much less if word gets out that we did not...i do not want to cause you more worry" you finish, sounding so helpless it breaks his heart.

he has an inkling of what this is really about. for a moment, at the reception, your mother had pulled you away. you had left him with an uneasy smile on your face and returned to him so obviously crestfallen. he can't imagine what it is that she's said to you, what lies she's filled your head with.

yuuji steps closer, and gently covers your hand in his own. he turns it over in his palm, relishing in the fact that you do not move away. "if our positions were reversed, would you force me?"

you stare up at him with wide eyes. "...i would not"

"why do you insist on treating yourself so unkindly?" he says softly, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. "i only want to see you happy. i wish to bring you no discomfort, no pain. and i know you wish for me to be the same."

"children require a lot of effort, and take a toll on the mind, and the body" continues the prince. "we will not sire a child until you wish to, and not a moment before. it is you who i am wed to, not the court. the court will not be the one to carry the babe, you will"

you are silent for a long moment. the minutes stretch onwards, and your hand trembles where it rests against his own. a quiet sniffle, and then tears. yuuji stares, unsure of what to do.

"what if i am never ready?" you whisper wetly, looking away from him.

yuuji wants to kiss you. it's a thought that comes at the worst possible time—and shames him thoroughly. but it is true. yuuji wants to kiss you, and he wants to hold your hand, and show you so many wonderful things. things you deserve to have. that you should have already had. but he swallows, and pushes down the feeling.

"i still would not force you" he says truthfully, and it physically pains him to imagine a world where he would. another soft sob escapes you. it physically pains him to see you this way, like someone has stabbed him and left the wound open. "would you like to be held?" yuuji inquires softly.

he doesn't expect you take him up on it. but you do, nodding minutely before stumbling your way into his chest with a sniffle. it's a testament to how much you've grown, over the years. yuuji's arms wrap around you immediately, rubbing softly at the center of your back as quiet cooing noises leave his lips.

"...thank you" your soft cries have subsided, but yet you remain in his embrace. if you do not wish to move, then yuuji won't move you. he can feel you moving, can feel your chin digging into the center of his chest as you slowly blink up at him. tears clump your lashes. the prince brings his finger to your cheek to brush away the last of them.

"i am here for you" yuuji tells you, staring you in the eye so you know how serious he is about this. about you. "always"

you say nothing, only moving to tuck yourself back into his chest. yuuji can feel the way you breathe deeply, and the shuddery exhale that follows as you allow yourself to be comforted.

--

it has been nearly two months since then. and something almost...tangible has passed between the two of you. yuuji can feel it, in the heavy way you look at him. contemplative. questioning. though not in a malicious way. the opposite, really, considering there is no-one more incapable of malice than you.

and that is why yuuji is so afraid to ruin things. ruin them with his feelings, ones he isn't sure you return. afraid to ruin them by showing you that he is not as good as you surely think him to be. afraid to disappoint you.

yuuji's sure you've already noticed his mood as of late—sullen. brooding. clipped, one word answers. how he holes himself up in the council room, or in his office. and when he cannot contain his anger and frustration at the state of things, the training yards with the knights.

that is where he is now, when you find him. todo, one of the knights, has just swept him expertly off his feet. he lands ungracefully on his ass. with a groan, the prince pulls himself to his feet—uncertain now why the usual boisterous training yard has fallen silent.

his heart plummets to the bottom of his stomach when he finally spots you standing in the yard. you hold the skirt of your gown in light fists to protect it from getting soiled by the mud. the juxtaposition it creates—a delicate flower surrounded by dirt and grime.

"i tried calling for you" you say quietly, as the prince bounds to your side, leading you away from the dirt. he knows he must smell, yet you do well to keep your face cool and neutral. simply being in your presence is enough to begin to lift away the sour cloud that hovers above him. "i stood on the balcony. but you could not hear me. it is very loud here" you continue to explain, as if yuuji might somehow be upset with you for any of it.

"have you any need for me?" yuuji asks, cursing himself for being so filthy. if he were cleaner, perhaps you would be up to holding his hand again.

at this, you hesitate. but then the prince can physically see the way you steel your nerves, before raising your eyes to his and giving him one solemn nod.

"only your company" you tell him, so very obvious that you're forcing yourself not to look away. "but it seems i have caught you at an ill time. so it can wait until tomorrow—but i was...i was wondering if you would like to spend the day together?"

"yes, please" yuuji rushes out, before you can even finish. you look at him in surprise, for a quick moment. like you can't believe he had agreed. "today, works. i just need to bathe quickly—"

you give him a small, fond smile, tilting your head to show that you're listening attentively. yuuji's mouth clamps shut and he feels himself turning red.

by now, the both of you have reached your shared chambers. and so, there is no real need for yuuji to stammer out a shaky, "i will be only a moment. to bathe. if that does not set our plans too far back"

but he does. stammer, he means, and you only send him another one of your soft smiles. your hands are clasped lightly at your front. really, you look none at all inconvenienced. "i will wait here for you" you say—gesturing to the bedroom.

"alright" yuuji croaks, and proceeds to set records for fastest bath ever taken. you stand close, much closer than usual, as the two of you exit the chambers. the prince tries not to let the proximity of your body heat ruin his life. he fails. how is it that your presence alone sends him spiraling, but is the only balm for said malady?

and then his brain really does short-circuit once you close the little distance between you. your left arm loops through his right one—but you keep your gaze trained forwards. steadily so. "i am not being too forward?" you ask, refusing to look at him.

"not at all." a gaggle of maids smile as you both pass. yuuji places his hand over the one currently curled around his bicep. he is stiff, almost, as you lead him where you please.

eventually, the two of you end up in another one of the castles gardens. this one is smaller, more private. out on the veranda are two chairs and an easel.

"you mean to paint my portrait" yuuji says, quite dumbly—feeling his face get hot. his palms itch and he feels sweaty, all of a sudden. he's thankful now that you aren't holding his hand.

"if you do not oppose" you wager and you both are looking away from each other now. "i am good at it. i wouldn't make you look like a horrid beast"

it's meant to be a joke. and yuuji takes it, laughing a lot harder than he should for such a little quip. but the corners of your mouth turn up slightly in satisfaction.

"what would you have done, if i had not agreed?" yuuji inquires, departing from your warmth. not that he would have.

you take your place by the easel, holding a pencil in your hand as you begin to sketch the shape of his head—the drape of his wonderful sandy hair. "i would have painted the other chair"

yuuji makes a noise, and laughter peals from his throat so hard that he loses his careful position. you sketch furiously now, concentrated and he realizes that you are trying to capture his laughter.

your head pokes around the easel, brows knit. "you have so many facial expressions."

"that's a good thing, i hope" yuuji replies, feeling his face flush at the way you stare at him. the levelness of your gaze and the relaxation that settles into your bones.

"i have never seen something so alive before" you murmur softly, more to yourself than to him. your eyes dart just west of his face. they dart away again, just as quick. you move to mix your paints now. "i want to be alive like you are"

you are alive yuuji wants to say. painfully so. people just do not care to stay long enough to see it. but he does. he has. yuuji has been there, every step of the way—watching you blossom underneath his hands and eyes. a choked, panicked sound erupts from his throat. your eyes snap up, alarmed.

"...forgive me" you apologize, just as yuuji says, "i am in love with you"

both of you freeze. the ornate palette in your hand hovers in midair, awkwardly close to the easel.

"i have tried to hide it" yuuji whispers at last, when you do not say anything at all. he pretends to pull at a very determined thread in his pants, avoiding your eyes. "and i have tried not to pressure you.i—in anyway. you do not have to return my feelings"

out of his peripheral, he can see see the way your face pulls and twists. "how do you know?" you aren't disgusted. he hadn't expected that you would be. he knew you wouldn't. you aren't the type. but still the fear had clung to him like a second skin anyway.

"i think of you often. i see you everywhere, even when you are not present" yuuji starts, swallowing thickly as you continue to paint. "i have always seen you. since i was a boy. i want you to feel safe, and happy. anything that pleases you, pleases me in turn. when you hurt, i am hurt as well."

you choose not to say anything towards that for a moment. the silence is killing him. yuuji is practically vibrating in his chair.

"i have always wondered, what that feeling felt was called" you murmur softly, looking at him so clearly now. you place your brush down onto your palette, squeezing at the bodice of your dress—over your heart. "i have known very little happiness in my life. and i thought you...i thought you would be like the rest. and yet you have shown me the complete opposite of my expectations. you possess such goodness. it's a rare trait for most to have"

"if that is called love, then that is what i feel for you" you say determinedly, and yuuji had forgotten what it was that he was so upset about in the first place.

surprisingly, after that, the two of you don't talk about it. not openly. he doesn't need you too, he realizes. over the next few weeks, you continue to work on his portrait. yuuji doesn't understand much about painting and art in general—but what he knows is that you've already reached the point of needing him to sit for you. and yet, that doesn't stop you from offering anyway.

always, magically, you seem to sense that he needs a reprieve from the life of the almost-king. you pull him away into your world, where everything is peaceful and calm and quiet. it's different, from the times where he's had his portrait as a boy. he had always assumed he had been too restless, too energetic to sit still for so many hours.

and yet, whenever you tell him that you are finished for the day, yuuji is surprised to find how much time has passed. his body prickles, waking up. he gets so lost in watching you or daydreaming about you or some combination of the two that the time flies.

he's almost...saddened, when you finally finish it for good. you've sent for a few servants to carry it off into the dayroom—covered by a tarp. yuuji will be the only other person to see it. there's almost this, apprehensive look to you, brimming with excitement as your hands pull off the tarp.

"do you like it?" you ask, gazing at him with your wide brown eyes.

he is only half-aware of dropping his lemon tart to the ground. you've painted him in this half-surprised, half-joyful expression. but there's indescribable fondness in there too. there's the parting of his mouth—as if he is only waiting to exhale a breath. there's ruddiness to his cheeks and his eyes seem to be trained towards something just out of reach of the frame.

how long has he stared at you, for his gaze to be always trained towards you—even when immersed in a painting?

"is this is how you see me?" he asks, brown eyes darting from you to the portrait again, amazed.

you sidle up next to him, standing so close that yuuji has to wrap an arm around your shoulders, anchoring you to his side. "that's how you have always looked at me"

--

it's nearing your second anniversary. yuuji has your gift (s) hidden away in his study—where he is now. a collection of things he's found on his occasional travel throughout the kingdom. a yellow and blue day dress with gorgeous golden lace and flowing sleeves. he's always liked you in yellow, and the fabrics feel soft to the touch. ones he'll know you prefer to feel against your skin.

a very large tome about insects, seeing that you've finished what little the castle libraries have on the topic. a journal with a clasped lock, embroidered with pretty vines. so that you can jot down your findings and recite them to him later.

you've recently gotten into calligraphy, and yuuji had procured you nice pens which the vendor promised were prefer for the art. and finally, two tickets for the sleeping beauty ballet—on the last day of its showing, when there are guaranteed to be less people attending.

a little overboard perhaps, considering the fact that yuuji stops and gets you a gift no matter where he is. even if it is as simple as a rose. but he can't help but spoil you. you deserve it. and his reward is the delighted expression you make, and the soft breathless thank you, that passes your lips—ever sweet and genuine.

your fist knocks gently on his door. yuuji makes sure that your gifts are out of sight before telling you to enter. you do, but do not cross into his study. yuuji's brow quirks at the odd behavior. you hang onto the doorframe, grip tight.

"dear?" he inquires, standing up with a start. "is something wrong?"

you shake your head. "n-no. there isn't. i just. i'm ready."

a puzzled look befalls him, trying to discern your meaning. "ready for what?" you only stare imploringly at him. it hits him all at once, what you mean. what if i am never ready? his face turns bright red. "now?" he confirms.

"please" you warble "if you want—"

"of course i want to, love" yuuji interjects, before you can get in your head about it. he steps out from behind his desk, pushing aside the work he planned to finish before bed. his palm settles on the small of your back, guiding you back into the bedroom. further still, so that your bottom lands on the bed.

yuuji crawls in after you, gently pulling you forwards. his hand cups the side of your face—like he has so many times before, eyes fluttering shut as your mouths meet in a soft kiss. you seem to melt in it, bringing your arm up and around his shoulders. he pulls away, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before diving back in for another. and another, and a dozen more.

you squirm against him and sparks light up down his spine. yuuji's hand toys with the short sleeve of your silken fabric of your nightgown before pulling away. he needs both hands for this, untying the lacing for his breeches and top—but unwilling to separate from your mouth.

he tugs himself, almost impatiently, out of his shirt. it pulls the softest sound of laughter from your lips and yuuji nearly moans at the feeling of your hands pressing against his bare chest. your hand darts away at the sound—but yuuji intercepts the touch, pulling you back in.

yuuji dives back in for another kiss, tilting his head to deepen it as your hands curl up at the front of his chest. the two of you languidly kiss for a few more minutes as the arousal begins to slowly pool in both of your bodies. your hips twitch, bucking unconsciously against the hardness of his cock against your thigh.

his hand slides up the side of your body, once against playing with your nightgown. "lets get this off" he suggests softly, gently—like his isn't itching to feel your bare skin. you agree with a soft noise of consent, and a breathy okay, yuuji before you allow him to undo the lacings at the back of your nightgown.

he bunches it up at the bottom, knuckles skimming along your thighs before slowly pulling it up, up, up. his mouth waters as each inch of tantalizing skin is revealed to his eyes. he's never seen so much of you before, body usually covered by your dresses and underskirts. gently, yuuji presses you down against the bedding, bracketing your body with his own as his hand cups your supple breast.

untouched and unused to anyone touching you in such a way, you squirm, a soft sound leaving your lips as yuuji fondles your breast in his warm hand.

"is this okay?" he asks, kissing you again.

you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. his thigh slides between your legs, and he can feel the dampness of your panties. his thumb circles around your nipple, dragging his lips from your lips to your jaw and then down to your neck.

use your words, love, gently admonishes yuuji. i need to know if i'm hurting you.

"okay" you say softly, giving him a pleasured little sigh that doesn't do anything but make his cock ache. "yuujji—that feels good"

your skin pebbles underneath the touch. a moment later, and your nipple is stiff, pressing up against his fingers. yuuji switches to your other breast, angling his body to pull the right back into his mouth. his other hand splays across the warm skin of your stomach, skirting further down to your panty-clad mound.

there's a damp spot against the fabric. yuuji groans around your nipple at the feeling. wet already, and he's done nothing major but play with your breasts and kiss you until your both dizzy. he's going to make you feel so good. yuuji pulls away from your nipple with a wet pop!, fingers pushing your panties to the side as his fingers lightly trace through your folds.

the shape is familiar, and the sound of your moan echoes in his ears as he places the memory of the anatomy model against the real thing. yuuji studies your face, watching and cataloguing which touches make you squirm. which ones make you moan. and which ones make breathless exhales of his name pass through your lips.

you seem to like it best when he starts from the bottom, dragging two of his fingers around your entrance before skirting back up to press firm circles onto your hooded clit. your hips twitch and buck—seeking more friction.

"i'm going to put one in now" yuuji murmurs, spreading your thighs nice and wide for him. he can feel you stiffen up slightly and that won't do. his kisses you again, rubbing quickly on your clit to get your legs to fall open once more. he presses in, tucking his face against the crook of your neck to groan at the tightness of your cunt.

your hips squirm and wriggle, cunt clenching wetly around the intrusion for a moment. trying to push his finger out, before greedily sucking him in. your arms circle around his head, nails lightly scraping against his shoulder and back.

he fingers you slowly, pulling all the way out before pushing back in steadily. his cock is rock hard now and he can't help but to softly grind his cock against your body. "th—that feels good"

"yeah?" yuuji asks, sliding a second in along the first. "how does this feel? too much?"

you shake your head, biting at your lip again. and then you remember yuuji's earlier admonish, gasping out a "no-no. please don't stop" that has him nipping at your skin in deep curling satisfaction. he alternates between stretching you out, scissoring your cunt and between thrusting in an out two fingers becomes three and by the time he works you up to four, your so desperate for it that your thighs tremble and shake―toes curling.

"am, am i not ready now?" you ask, drool escaping your mouth. your eyes fly down to meet his own and the lust that reflects in them has him pulling his fingers out with a rush, licking them clean.

you rise up from the bed enough to help him out of his breeches and underwear, lying back down and spreading your legs. yuuji settles back between them, feeling your warm thighs underneath his hands―the heated supple flesh.

at the last moment, his hand darts out to grab one of the pillows, shoving it underneath your hips. at your questioning look, yuuji turns slightly pink for an entirely different reason.

"i've read that it helps with the penetration. makes it easier for a maidens first time" he explains softly, idly rubbing at your thigh to calm you. "and i'll reach deeper inside―which will feel really good"

it's your turn now, to wear an expression of slightly embarrassment. yuuji's body brackets yours more fully now and he begins to guide himself inside your sticky cunt. a soft, almost pained sound escapes you, replaced by another drawn out one. "you've...been reading?"

he's caught between watching your face and watching his cock sink inside inch after inch. "i inquired about it with your physician. she informed me that female pleasure requires more than male pleasure and―breathe love, there you go, you're doing so well―oh god, you feel so good."

his words bite off, snapping his hips forward and burying the last few inches inside of you with a groan. you yelp, thighs shutting before cracking open again, blinking up at him with wide eyes. you breathe, like he's told you to, visible as you settle around the sudden stretch.

"it doesn't hurt" you murmur quietly, like you can't quite believe it. your eyes go back up towards his face, hand settling around his bicep. "wh-what were you going to say?"

"your physician." yuuji starts, and then stops. his brows crinkle, and his hand trembles in the bedding with the effort it takes to hold still and not to just go wild. "she pointed me to a few books about female anatomy and pleasure―is it alright if i move now?"

you process his words, before nodding. a meek, "yes, please" falls from your lips and no sooner is he pulling out and pushing back in. a squeaky little noise leaves you, shadowed by yuuji's own moan as your tight cunt grips him. practically greedy, the way it's sucking him back in.

he understands now. why men go to war for their women. why they fight so hard and for so long, brutal. anything to be able to come back to this. he's never understood the appeal for sex―why men were so desperate to sleep with someone.

though you aren't just anyone. you're his wife, his sweet wife, nails pricking at his shoulders as his hips snap up to meet your own wriggling hips, little ah ah ah's leaving your lips, eyes fluttering shut and opening again. he feels that fondness bubbling up in his chest, love spilling out into each thrust into your sopping cunt, each fevered i love you, uttered into your skin.

yuuji leans forward to nip at your skin, sucking a mark along your collarbone when you make a loud moan, body seizing up like someone had just poured liquid fire over you. afraid that he's hurt you, yuuji pauses, lifting his head from the crux of your neck and shoulder―panic on his features.

you're quick to reassure him of the opposite. slurring, "no, noplease, please don't stop. please―" and he realizes, sort of late, that he's hit your spot.

"it's okay, sweetheart, love, i'm not stopping" yuuji promises, angling his hips and nailing that spot head-on. you make a litany of noises now, legs wrapped tightly around his waist and nails scrabbling along his back.

he loses himself in the feeling of your velvet heat. the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your round bottom fills the bedroom and the creaking of the bed adds a filthy undercurrent to the way yuuji is pleasuring you. he can feel your cunt clenching around him, throbbing and you're just as close as he is.

his mouth blindly finds yours, though the sloppy kiss is more tongue and teeth than any of the gentle finesse from earlier. yuuji props himself up on his elbow, driving his cock into you again and again, ramming against your g-spot―before slowing down into a sensual roll that has your hips lifting off the bed, chasing after him for more friction. his hand snakes down your body, returning to your clit.

it only takes a few more quick, rough circles on your sensitive nub for your body to tighten up and release, reaching out for him and panting out broken syllables of his name. it's a sound he won't ever be able forget.

yuuji pulls out, hand around his aching cock. jerking once and then twice, painting your thighs and cunt in thick stripes of hot seed. he collapses into bed beside you, curling around your naked body.

"was that your first time too?" you ask, turning to face him. though, its more like your face is in his chest and a moment later he can feel you mouth at the skin of his neck. it tickles, and he laughs, throat dry.

his hand rubs at your back, like he can't quite be separated from you just yet. nerves still thrumming with energy. he's decided that he'll follow after you into the bath, if you're comfortable with it. that'll be nice. bathing with you.

"it was" yuuji assures, gazing down at you. "i wanted you to be my first―if you wanted to at all." his first and his only. for the rest of his days. for as long as he's known you, he's been entranced. first with figuring you out, then with learning you overtime. and now simply, with being with you for the rest of his life.

a fond look passes over your face. you look just as fond as he does, smitten out of your mind. "i must make every woman in the kingdom extremely jealous, to have the heart of such a good man"

he's willing to argue that he's the luckier one. but exhaustion befalls your face, and you curl up further against him. moments later, you're deeply asleep.

the prince, nearly king now, presses a kiss to your slacken lips and follows you off into slumber.

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

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the amount of people suddenly liking and reblogging that one sukuna fic make me seriously consider a part two

me when the fic i imagined has a long detailed plot with more than one smut scene and i realize i can't get it done in a day or two :

with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second. 

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun. 

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight. 

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says, 

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much? 

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother. 

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him. 

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him. 

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him. 

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts. 

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?” 

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule. 

He meets you for the first time in February. 

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession. 

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them. 

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r. 

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later. 

He sees you a lot the year after. 

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side. 

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch. 

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother. 

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation. 

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night. 

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. 

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his. 

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful. 

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him. 

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi. 

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.” 

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri. 

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.

nonnie, fear not-- working on that delectable request fic rn. hopefully i can finish it before the week over <3

vegas id give you the sloppiest head ever if you wrote scissoring w shoko 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

★ : rubbing pretty clits w shoko.

cw. fem! reader, wlw, scissoring, praise, spanks, nıpple play, overstim, petnames, mdni.

shoko who can’t help but giggle, watching with doe brown irises as your hips stutter every few seconds. you were simply no match for her pace. with your slick cunt repeatedly grinding back against hers, you were already this close to losing it. to making yet another mess. she’s lied flat on her back, one hand gripped against the left side of your waist before humming, tilting her head in faux coy. “cupcake, c’mon, thought you said you knew what you were doing, hm?”

as your mouth hangs open—you lock your legs securely against hers, trying to scissor her properly. the heat of skin clashing against each other makes a school of butterflies flutter inside of your tummy. “m tryin’ shoko,” you pant, watching as she trails a hand down your ass, a thumb brushing up against it’s shape as if it was carved into a heart. “fuck, feels so good, ‘sho.”

“try harder, honey,” she huffs, almost about to break out a sweat herself. long brunette locks tangle around her finger as she keeps a keen eye on you the entire time. puffy cunt hoods glissade against each other back and forth and oh, the stimulation. with the mixture of her growing heat, you felt hot. shoko’s angle of her thigh legs wrap around yours and you felt everything. “pick up the pace, uh huh—good . . girl,” and a sharp gasp wrenches out of her throat once you start to accelerate. “thaaat’s it, fuck me, pretty girl.”

both scorching hot bodies continue to move in rhythmic sync. she lets off a sweet moan, feeling the convulsing thumps of your clit pulse against hers and it feels almost too good.

her breath hitches as she snakes a hand toward your breasts that bounce right in front of her face. “come closer, cupcake. don’t be shy,” and her words were a bit low—she lets off a tiny hiccup as her eyes roamed at your perfect jittery body. with each lengthy second that passed, she was getting more and more drunk from your sweet cunt. as you lean closer, pawing your right hand into the mushy skin of her right leg, she grabs ahold of one of your tits, latching her plump glossed lips against the tender nipple. “mhm.”

you moan out a singular hiss, bouncing against her body as she lies right underneath you—

skewing the bulb of your cunt straight against her drooling opening. with the merciless speed of your hips, she could barely keep your sweetened neglected mounds in her mouth. although, she left a pretty trail of her sheeny saliva onto each of your tits. she sucks against them both, briefly closing her eyes shut as you’re merrily rutting into her sloppy core salaciously.

“shokooo,” you drag out her words in a candied slur of both twin syllables.

the slow yet deadly grind of your hips had her head spinning. not just hers but yours too.

clammy hands of hers make their way back toward your unsteady hips, yanking them closer to her sweltering, sticky heat before she spanks your ass.

with that single spank . . one turns into two, then three, then four.

shoko’s obsessed with your ass, never failing to leave it a few concise stings near the very plush parts of your flesh. “f— fuck,” she stammers, a shake in her voice due to your insane rhythm. she felt it too, with both sloppy mounds bumping against each other, the incoming pleasure was almost inevitable to feel. she pried one of your legs open just a bit farther apart, strumming her slender fingers against your pulsating cunt to play against your throbbing slit. “mhm, twitching so good for me, huh. you gonna make a mess already? barely been a few minutes, cupcake.”

your throat was parched with dryness — with the bed underneath you and shoko wailing out in weak creaks, you moan. as your head tosses itself back in rapture, your trembling thighs briefly shifts to acclimatize against her wide open angle.

“gonna cum, shoko,” you warn, feeling the furrow of your eyebrow pull both arched brows together. for just a second, you take a second to suck in a nice amount of balmy air.

everything around you felt so warm, including the welcoming cunt of your girlfriend who’s just humidly sultry with tepid heat.

effortlessly, it sticks against your own core, creating a lewd concoction of damp juices, forming into a little soaked cobweb. there’s an entering ring that goes through your ears and hers. it’s never ending screech makes your back arch at the moment of your climax and she slumps back against the mattress. her skin’s met with the velvety silk sheets. as her body directly underneath you moves back in drowse, her lowly hooded eyes meet yours again once you prepare to speak out a whimper. “can i cum, shoko? pretty please?”

“with those manners, you can do anything you want to me, cupcake,” she hoarsely whispers, pulling you close to her face.

inches away, you close the remaining distance to drag her into a needy, wet kiss.

both bodies remain to rut back ‘n forth, limbs all tangled and intertwined in pure bliss.

she tasted so sweet. her syrupy gloss ghosts against your tastebuds and you moan right into her mouth. shoko was handsy, wasting no time to feel all over the curvature of your presentable physique. starting at your ass — then back toward your hips and the rest of your body. she even leans in, lolling her tongue out to lick a long stripe down the valley of your chest.

“mhm,” you whimper, sappy soddened juices squelching against each other. as you both eventually succumb to your orgasmic peak, in each mouth, you both moan in pretty flawless unison.

your hips come to an abrupt slow but you’re still jerking against her, swerving in swift addictive arcs as she feebly wrapping her arms around your waist. the rickety of the bed continues to sob out creaks from the double amounts of weight. “baby,” she croaks out lowly, strings of fluids departing with each inch that you move your cunt away from hers.

exhausted, you slump forward into her chest and you feel a rumble of her shoulders. “ah, worn out already? i guess we can take a break,” she whispers, feeling your body still shiver within her hold. her touch was always gentle—she loved how you’d always lean into it, lean into her. with a sheepish smile curling against her slight crooked lips, she makes you sit up. you unlock your weak legs against hers before lying on top of her, droopy eyes meeting her lust filled gaze. she gives your forehead a single kiss before huffing. “you did so good, baby. always so good for me.”

“s- shoko,” you stutter out, her perfume making you throb. you were already starting to fantasize about the lewd feeling of her cunt rubbing off against yours in carnal harmony that was literally just seconds ago.

“shhh,” she shushes you, a thumb swiping its way over the part of your lips. body again body — it was warm, her sweat mixed with yours and you could feel yourself aching for more. already, you missed the way she felt bumping against your sensitive pussy. it made your head spin, your nerves were still in overdrive before she makes you lie on her chest. “let’s rest, okay,” and her slight raspy voice made you let off a soft content sigh. she strokes your back, hearing your breathing slow a bit before she coos against the shell of your ear. “when you’re well energized again, i’ll start a nice bath for us both,” and she gives the crown of your forehead one more kiss.

“my sweet girl.”

KUROO I LOVE YOU KUROOOOO 😖

hi so if i ever talk about making everyone's christmas gifts again next year, i need someone to grab me by the hand and stop me. post haste

read a fanfic so good i started writing again.