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Five Nights in Hell With Your God - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 1

AU Heian Era Gojo is worshipped as a god for his immense power, and he has disdain for the useless mortals around him. All except you, his childhood friend whom he is deeply in love with yet hasn’t spoken to in years. You’re also madly in love with him, so when you find out a sacrifice is needed for a ritual to increase his power before he fights Sukuna, you eagerly volunteer. You just didn’t realize the ritual is five nights of torment!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Heian Era AU. Overstimulation. Use of potions/drugs. Pain. Loss of virginity. Blood. Torture. Oral sex. Rough sex. Feral Gojo. Dark content. Probably a lot more I’m forgetting. Reader consents to and willingly subjects herself to everything that happens.

Note: This first chapter is long to set up the plot, but the rest of the chapters will be much shorter. They will also be more intense/extreme as they go along! Keep that in mind!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear!

“He’s returned! Our god has come home!”

You look up from your work, your fingers pausing with needle in hand, the simple fabric in your lap slipping to the floor as your heart begins pounding.

Standing up, you walk out of your small dwelling to join the crowd of onlookers as the procession begins to enter the village. Lines of servants, priests, shrine maidens, and various other people walk by the cheering crowd.

In any other village, you would all be required to bow as the elevated platform carried by servants appears. Sitting on the platform, raised high above the crowd, is a god called Gojo Satoru. And the people of this village don’t bow because this is the village he was born in, the one he spent his childhood in, with you.

The two of you were inseparable until his power was discovered when he was twelve years old. Then he was whisked away by the elders of the vast Gojo clan who sit at the top of the sorcerers’ world. His power is so rare and so overwhelming that they declared him a god, and treat him as such.

He spends most of his time traveling around, destroying curses or evil sorcerers, but once or twice a year he returns to his home village. The elders think there is power in returning to your roots, so Gojo is brought back here to rest and restore his strength.

You always look forward to these visits. The two of you haven’t spoken since he was first taken away - what has a god to say to a common village girl? - but you still feel the same way you felt about him all those years ago. You’re in love with him, and you’ve carried that love deep in your heart for over a decade now.

As he passes by, he glances in your direction, and for a brief moment your eyes meet. Ah, his eyes are more beautiful each time you see them. The moment passes, and he looks away. Maybe he doesn’t recognize you as the girl he held hands and ran through the rice fields with. Or worse, maybe he doesn’t even remember those times at all.

With a sigh you return to your work. You’ve been sewing clothes for the villagers for years, and have become quite well known for your skills. Which is why you’re hardly surprised that evening when you’re summoned to Gojo’s shrine and ordered by a shrine maiden to make the dress for the sacrifice.

Ah, the sacrifice. It’s the one part of all this you can’t stomach. Whenever Gojo is about to go fight a particularly powerful enemy, the elders conduct a ritual. No one but Gojo and the elders know the specifics, except that a beautiful young woman is chosen, spends five nights with Gojo in one of his many shrines, and then dies at the end of it. Supposedly she is turned into a temporary deity herself, and her death energy empowers Gojo for his upcoming battle.

A sacrifice has never been chosen from your village though, so it’s not something you’ve ever worried about.

You stand in the holy shrine, looking around at the rich furnishings, golden vases filled with perfumed flowers, fire lamps hanging closely enough together to keep the whole place well lit. It’s quite breathtaking, and you realize you haven’t been inside this place in years.

As the shrine maiden is showing you a drawing of the design for the dress and explaining details, you suddenly hear Gojo’s voice coming from around the corner.

“I told you when all this started,” he’s saying, “not from this village!”

Another voice, older and more authoritative, says, “You’re going to fight Sukuna! The king of curses! We need you at maximum power, and only someone from your home village can provide that!”

They come into view behind you, and you look over your shoulder to get a glimpse of your beloved god.

“I don’t even need a sacrifice!” Gojo shouts at the elder beside him. “I’ve never needed one! I don’t-“ he suddenly stops when he sees you, his clear blue eyes widening slightly before looking back to the elder. When he begins talking again, his voice is so quiet you can’t make out the words.

You turn your attention back to the shrine maiden, and though you never look back at Gojo again, your skin tingles at the very thought that he’s so close, that he might even look at you.

After some muffled arguing between the two men, the elder suddenly yells, “If we don’t do the ritual, you’ll die! That’s how strong Sukuna is! We can’t afford to lose you.”

Die? Gojo? No, he’s far too powerful to be killed, right?

Pushing that disturbing thought from your mind, you take the design and materials home with you to make the sacrificial dress.

Gojo frowns as the servants work at the fastenings of his ceremonial robes. A mix of men and women tend to him, all of them dressed in clean, crisp robes of their own, all of them selected for service for their fine features and attentiveness. But to Gojo, they might as well all be insects.

He is a god after all, and his mood has soured. He was happy earlier to be back home after eight months away, but those fucking elders had to ruin his homecoming. The old bastards are insisting on a ritual Gojo doesn’t need or even want. What’s worse, they want to select the sacrifice from this village. His village. The people here were supposed to be off limits.

Gojo retires to his personal quarters, still fuming over the fact that the elders (useless as they may be) still have a degree of control over him. If they all agree on something, there’s little Gojo can do to avoid it, even though he’s their god. So the ritual will take place starting tomorrow night.

He sits down on the floor beside his extravagant futon and puts a hand to his chest. His heart is still racing from earlier.

He saw her twice today. Twice!

First he spotted her in the crowd as he came into the village. His eyes always seek her out, and today she was gazing right at him, looking as lovely as she ever has.

And then she came to the shrine this evening. Her, in his shrine!

She’s the woman he’s yearned for all this time, from the days they spent playing together in the Gojo estate, when he would sneak her in to have snacks with him. His feelings for her never wavered, even when he learned he was a god and far above the pitiful humans around him.

She’s special, even if she’s human, and he would love nothing more than to make her his wife. But that will never happen.

Gojo’s life is strictly controlled by the elders. They’ve already made clear that he will never take a wife. A god should not be tethered to a mortal, they say. At some point in the future, he will impregnate someone to keep his holy bloodline going, some powerful and influential woman worthy of his sacred seed.

Until then, he is expected to satisfy his physical desires with the sacrifices given to him. And he does, but he would much rather be with his childhood friend, the girl he spent half his life with, who still makes his heart beat rapidly in his chest when he simply catches sight of her.

Tonight in the shrine, she was so tantalizingly close! If he’d taken three, maybe four steps, she would have been within arm’s reach. Oh, to touch her! To feel her warm skin beneath his fingers!

He is a god, but he would descend into hell if it meant he could touch her.

But he can’t, and he won’t. She probably hates him now, if she even remembers him. He’s avoided her since they were children, and by now she’s probably married or at least has a lover. That’s probably for the best. Just knowing she’s alive and safe is enough for him now.

You work late into the night on the “dress”, which you realize is not much of a dress at all. The fabric is so sheer that it makes you wonder what purpose it serves. It certainly wouldn’t conceal anything, and you can’t help thinking about the women who must have worn something like this before. How many women has Gojo seen in this completely see through dress? The thought makes your face feel hot.

The dress itself is no more than a beaded collar with two long, narrow strips of the sheer fabric, one in front and one in back. You only had to sew the pieces into the elaborate collar and attach the beading.

When you’ve finished with the garment, you stand back and look it over. You’re struck by the irrational urge to try it on, so you fully disrobe and pull the neck piece over your head. The silky fabric feels nice on your skin, but when you look at yourself in your mirror, your face burns with embarrassment.

As you suspected, it hides absolutely nothing. You can see your own breasts clearly, can see your firm nipples protruding through the dress. Lowering your eyes, you see the small mound of soft pubic hair between your thighs. Seeing yourself like this excites you, and your mind wanders. What would Gojo think if he saw you like this? How would you feel if those glorious blue eyes were roaming over your exposed body?

Ahh! Just thinking about it is too embarrassing! You carefully remove the garment and hang it by your door. It’s due back at the shrine in the morning.

While dressing for sleep, you remember what the elder said, about Gojo dying if he doesn’t do the ritual. How could that be possible? Gojo has always defeated every threat. Could this Sukuna really be that terrible?

When you fall asleep, you have terrible nightmares of Gojo being killed by some shadowy monster. Over and over. And then you see the elders standing over his body, saying, “You should have done the ritual! It could have saved you!”

You awake covered in sweat, your head pounding. A terrible fear clings to you like a wet robe. You have a feeling Gojo really will die if the ritual isn’t a success.

And you can’t let that happen. You know what you have to do.

Early the next morning, you return to the shrine to give them the dress. After the shrine maiden takes it, you gather your courage and ask, “How does one volunteer to be the sacrifice for the ritual?”

The shrine maiden looks at you curiously. “Do you wish to volunteer?”

You swallow the knot in your throat. “Yes, I do.”

She hesitates, staring at you for a moment before saying, “Follow me.”

The shrine maiden leads you further inside, down a side hall and to a door. She stops outside it and clears her throat. “We have a volunteer,” she calls.

You hear a familiar elderly voice say, “Bring them in.”

The woman slides the door open and bows her head, gesturing for you to go inside. You step into the room and find the six elders of sorcerer society sitting in a circle, each on a silk cushion. They all stare at you as you lower yourself to a polite position on your knees.

The one who spoke, who is also the elder you saw talking to Gojo the evening before, narrows his eyes at you. “Why do you wish to volunteer?”

“I heard he will be facing a powerful enemy. I just want to do everything I can to help,” you say.

Another elder gives you a withering glare. “And why should we choose you for such an important ritual?”

You look straight at him. “Because I’ve loved him since we were children, and no one wants him to succeed more than I do.”

The elder scoffs. “Love? Bah! What good is a mortal’s love to a god?”

The first elder, the one you saw the night before, looks over to the man who just spoke. “Wait. It’s true that love has no place in our god’s world, but intention is a very powerful thing in sorcery. This young lady clearly wants to help him more than anything. That pure desire to give him power might strengthen the ritual.”

A third elder taps his cane on the floor. “We will question her to determine her suitability.”

For the next half hour, they ask you extremely personal questions and nod grimly to each other after hearing your answers. Apparently you make a suitable sacrifice.

Once they approve you, they call for shrine maidens to come and begin preparing you. Since you have no living relatives, there’s no one to say goodbye to, so the maidens immediately begin the process of readying you for tonight.

You’re fed a luxurious dinner, then you are taken to the shrine’s large bathing area to be cleaned and purified in the heavily perfumed water. All hair below your neck is shaved off, leaving your body completely bare. And when they put the sacrificial dress you made over your head and fix it on your neck, you look in the nearby full length mirror to see yourself in it for the second time.

Now, with no pubic hair to cover you, the image is even more lewd and embarrassing. But there’s no turning back now. In a short while, Gojo is going to see you. All of you.

The shrine maidens place a robe over you and tie it at the front, explaining that you will wear the robe until the ritual begins.

Your nerves are on fire as they place a silky veil over your head, partially obscuring your face, and lead you into a large room with a square raised platform at the back. They take you to a spot right in front of the platform and tell you to kneel on the floor, keeping your head down.

“Master Gojo will be in soon, and he will explain the details of the ritual to you,” one of the shrine maidens says. “We leave you now, so that only you and your god will be in the shrine for the next five nights. This is to heighten the bond of power between you and make the ritual more intimate.”

Intimate? The word floats around in your brain as the women leave. You’re not naive. You’ve always assumed Gojo lies with the sacrifice during the ritual, and the thought has always plagued you. Of course you understand he’ll most likely bed you at some point. The sensuality of the “dress” certainly suggests that. But you still feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the thought of him even kissing you.

Goodness! You feel the same way you did as a teenager when you caught glimpses of him moving through the village!

You hear the sound of a door sliding open, and you keep your head bowed as your heart threatens to burst. He’s here! He’s in the same room with you! So many questions race through your mind. Does he know you’re the sacrifice? How does he feel about that? If he hasn’t been told, will he be surprised? Or will he even notice that you’re his childhood friend?

Perhaps such considerations are beneath a god. Maybe he’ll complete the ritual in a cold and systematic way. You’ve prepared your heart for that possibility.

You listen as his footsteps carry him to the platform and he sits down on the silk cushion. There are several moments of silence that feel like eternity as you wait for him to speak.

“The Gojo clan thanks you for your devotion,” he says, his voice sounding dull and even somewhat annoyed, as if he’s reading from a script. “Your sacrifice will not be in vain, but will help protect our people and secure peace for future generations. Now look up, show your face, so that you might be honored.”

You exhale a shaky breath, then raise your head, pulling back the veil at the same time. You look at Gojo, and he looks at you. His eyes widen, staring at you with such intensity that you look at the floor to avoid them.

“I don’t know if you remember me, my lord, but you and I played together as children,” you say with a nervous voice, still keeping your eyes on the floor. “I volunteered because… you have always been very dear to me. So dear that I am happy to be sacrificed to ensure your victory in the coming battle.”

He doesn’t reply, so you lift your eyes again to see his reaction. His face is twisted in horror, as if you’re some terrifying creature that emerged from the darkness. His fists are clenched at his sides, and you can feel his energy crackling around the room. He seems positively furious.

“You!” he yells, pointing at you angrily. “Get out of my sight this instant! I won’t accept you as the sacrifice!”

You draw back, feeling like you’ve been slapped. Your eyes tear up at the sting of his words. “But why?” you ask, your lips quivering.

Gojo has never been more horrified in his life. This can’t be happening. The woman he loves more than life itself, the woman he’s always longed for but can’t even touch, is on her knees before him, ready to be sacrificed.

Her, dying for him? He won’t allow it! Then there’s the ritual itself, and all it entails. The thought of doing such disgusting and depraved things to her makes him feel sick.

He looks at the robe wrapped loosely around her, knowing exactly what she’s wearing underneath it. Some deep, primal part of him desperately wants to tear that robe off, to see everything she has, to start the perverse ritual right now and turn her precious, beloved body into his personal plaything.

His mind flashes back to previous rituals, and he can’t stop himself from imagining her in place of the dull, insignificant women who were sacrificed before. Her tied up, spread open, helpless, weeping and pleading as he…

No! He can’t do such brutal things to her. His feelings for her run so much deeper than base sexual desire. To touch her in such vile ways is unthinkable!

She’s staring up at him with wet eyes, looking hurt. From her perspective, this must feel like a rejection. She said he’s always been dear to her. Does that mean she has feelings for him too?

Oh fuck. This is turning into a huge mess. Still, it would be better to break her heart, make her think he hates her, than to subject her to the ritual.

“I don’t want you!” he yells, stomping over to the door to call for the shrine maidens. Two of them rush in, looking bewildered. They’ve never seen Gojo angry and yelling before.

He points at the sacrifice and shouts, “Take her away! She’s not suitable!”

The maidens look at each other, then at the poor, crying young woman still kneeling on the floor. “My lord, I assure you, she has been thoroughly questioned by the elders and deemed worthy,” one of them says.

“I don’t care!” Gojo roars, startling the maidens who shrink back away from him. “Get her out of here right fucking now!”

“Why?”

Gojo freezes when he hears the sweet, cherished voice, so weak and so sad. He turns to find her standing behind him, her hands clutching the edges of the robe, her beautiful face stained with tears.

He feels like a knife has been plunged into his heart. He gives the shrine maidens a look, and one of them says, “We’ll fetch the elders,” before they both scurry out of the shrine.

“Am I so repulsive to you?” she asks once the two of them are alone again.

He can’t take this anymore. “No! Never! But you don’t understand what this ritual is. It’s five nights of torment! The whole thing is designed to completely break your body and mind, to make you a pure vessel of energy. The elders believe that when a person experiences the ultimate pleasure and the ultimate pain, they reach a transcendent state. I’m supposed to spend these five nights bringing you to that state! You have no idea how depraved it is!”

She looks shocked, her eyes wide and her lovely mouth falling open. “You mean… you have to torture me for five nights?”

“Yes! Among other things. And I can’t do it, not to you.”

She looks down, then back to his face. “Why not to me?”

He looks away from her. “Because we have a history together. We’re friends, right?” He can’t tell her he loves her. Doing so would only encourage her to stay.

“I can do it,” she says, surprising him into meeting her gaze. “I can endure it, whatever you must do to me.”

He’s momentarily speechless, trying to think of some way to stop this. “Wait, you have to be a virgin to be the sacrifice. I’m sure you’ve had a lover by now.”

She looks a little shy as she says, “I am a virgin. I couldn’t bear the thought of another man touching me. Not when my heart belongs to you.”

He feels his heart skip a beat. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

She takes one step closer. “Not only my heart. Now, my body belongs to you as well. You are my beloved god. Everything I am, is yours to do with as you please. Use me, hurt me, do whatever is needed to make the ritual succeed.”

Gojo stares at her in disbelief. Does she truly feel so strongly about him? Her devotion is so pure, it makes chills run down his spine. He didn’t think it possible to love her more than he already did, but his heart is swelling. Actually, something else is swelling too. One side of her robe has slipped down slightly, showing part of the collar of her sacrificial dress. It’s another reminder of what she’s wearing, and how badly he wants to see it.

The door suddenly opens, and a group of elders file in, all wearing stern faces. “What is going on?” one of them asks. “The shrine maidens say you’re refusing the sacrifice.”

Gojo approaches the old man. “Did you know?” he demands. “Did you know she was my friend?”

The old man glances at her. “We know she’s the perfect sacrifice for this battle. She volunteered. She chose to do this, because she wants you to win.”

Gojo grits his teeth. “Find someone else. Anyone else.”

“It’s too late now,” another elder says. “She’s already been purified and prepared for you. The ritual is already under way. There’s no stopping it.”

“There is if I refuse to do it,” Gojo says sharply. “You can’t control me. You all need my power.”

A third elder speaks up then. “True, we do need your power, but so does she. You can give her the noble, meaningful death she wants, or we can give her a far worse one.”

Gojo feels his blood boiling. How dare they threaten her! Her, the only mortal on this miserable planet who deserves to even be in his presence! He feels confident that he can protect her, but fighting the elders now, in the middle of the village, would only bring her sorrow. His only option is to go through with the ritual for now. He knows these old perverts use their sorcery to spy on him.

But he won’t kill her, no matter what happens. He’ll pretend to, then hide her away until after he defeats Sukuna. At that point, there will be no reason to kill her.

He looks back at her, and wonders if he’ll be able to stomach putting her through the ordeals.

He’ll have to. Her life depends on it now.

You wait, barely breathing, as Gojo talks to the elders. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but they keep looking at you. Will they make you leave? You hope not.

At first you were terrified that Gojo hates you now, but after hearing his explanation, your heart is fluttering to think he still thinks of you as a friend and only wanted you to be spared.

You hope he understands that you only want to help him in whatever way you can. You would walk through hell itself if it meant preventing him from being killed. That a worthless mortal like you could help your god in any way is truly an honor.

The elders finally begin walking out, evidently coming to an agreement of some kind. Once the door is closed again, Gojo returns to the square platform. You immediately kneel and wait to hear his decision.

“I’ve decided to accept you as the sacrifice,” he says, his voice sounding unusually awkward.

You glance up at him, tears in your eyes again. “Oh, thank you, my lord!”

His eyes are locked on yours for a moment, then he coughs and averts his gaze. “I’ll go over the rules of the ritual. You must follow them at all times. Failure to do so would compromise the ritual. Do you understand?”

You nod fervently. “Yes, my lord!”

“First,” he says, looking down at you with those heavenly eyes, “You must obey every command I give you, with no hesitation. Even if I tell you do something that brings you shame or pain.”

You nod again.

“Second, aside from special potions used to enhance the ritual, you are not allowed to consume anything other than water and… my seed.”

Your breath catches when you hear that, your face heating up. You nod.

“In fact,” he goes on, “your goal during these five days and nights will be to take as much of my divine seed into your body as possible. Do you understand?”

Your eyes are trapped in his, your face burning and your body feeling hot under the robe. “Yes, my lord. I will be honored to accept it.”

Unless you’re imagining things, Gojo’s own face takes on a pink tint that quickly fades. “Ah, right. The third rule… you are not allowed to wear anything other than the sacrificial dress, if you wear anything at all.”

You nod once more, already anticipating that rule.

Gojo reaches into the sleeve of his robe and pulls out a small vial of liquid. He steps just barely close enough to hand it to you. “Drink,” he says.

You don’t even ask what it is. You open it and lift the bottle to your lips, emptying it into your mouth.

Gojo seems pleased with your obedience. A smile passes over his face as he explains what you just drank. “That’s a potion you’ll take every night. It makes your entire body extremely sensitive, to both pleasure and pain. Every little sensation will be magnified greatly.”

You swallow the last of it and look down at yourself, trying to judge whether or not it’s working.

He grins, amused. “It takes a few minutes to work. In the meantime, I’ll explain the overall structure of the ritual. Every night you will endure an ordeal. They will increase in intensity each night. They’re all designed to bring you to the peak of both ecstasy and agony. You’ll probably regret your decision to volunteer, but I can’t stop or go easy on you, even if you beg or cry.”

You stare up at him. “I won’t regret it. I told you, my body belongs to you now. You can do whatever you want to it.”

Just as you finish the sentence, you start to feel it. Your skin tingles. The silky sheer fabric of the dress rubs over your nipples, making them instantly harden. Your pussy, newly bare from being shaved, feels hyper sensitive. It feels like your sense of touch is being assaulted, and it almost takes your breath away. If Gojo touches you now… will your body be able to withstand it?

“Looks like the potion is taking effect,” he says, then he steps to the edge of the platform, looming over you, and says, “Stand up, and remove your robe. You won’t be needing it from now on.”

You get to your feet and reach for the sash around your waist, holding the loose fitting robe on. Once you remove it, you’ll be completely exposed to his godly eyes. Your hands tremble as you untie it, your heart beating rapidly. You must not hesitate! You must obey immediately! Despite knowing this, you still pause for a brief moment before opening the robe and letting it slip from your shoulders, pooling on the floor.

Your entire body flushes with embarrassment as you look at the floor shyly. The dress’s sheer panel in front is so narrow that the outer sides of your breasts are uncovered. But the fabric is totally useless for covering anything. You might as well be naked.

When you finally get the courage to look up at Gojo, you find him staring at your body with hungry, blazing eyes. Without taking his eyes off your form, he removes his ceremonial robes and lets them fall to the floor, leaving only a single, thin white summer robe. It’s loose on him, open to the waist, displaying the most finely sculpted torso you’ve ever laid eyes on. Of course a god would be beautiful beyond human measure.

He steps down off the platform and over to you, stopping inches away. You’ve never been so close to him before, not since you were children. The closeness makes you dizzy, your breaths coming quicker. He looks like he wants to touch you, but he refrains, instead saying, “Get back on your knees, and show me your devotion.”

Gojo struggles to keep his breathing steady as he looks at her. Every lovely inch of her is on display for him through the “dress”. She’s more beautiful than even his most perverse fantasies could ever dream up, and his hands ache to touch her, to pull her trembling body into his arms.

But he mustn’t. If he holds her now, he might lose his resolve to do what has to be done. So instead he tells her to get back on her knees. She doesn’t hesitate at all. She’s perfectly obedient, eager to please him in all ways. This side of her excites him, naturally, but after the ritual is over he hopes she returns to being the strong willed girl he knows her to be.

Though he can’t think of any stronger display of will than volunteering to be tormented and killed for the one you love.

He unties his sash and opens his robe, allowing her to see his fully erect manhood. A small sound escapes her, like a gasp, as her eyes take in the view. A flash of fear alights her face for a moment, but she keeps her composure.

Of course she would be frightened. Gojo’s divine cock far surpasses any human man’s by every metric.

She quickly overcomes her fear, scooting closer and wincing a bit, probably because the potion she drank would make even the floor scraping her knees painful. She lifts one delicate hand up and gently takes hold of his cock. She seems in awe of it now, leaning forward to kiss the tip, then begin licking it reverently.

Gojo is breathing faster as she finally takes him into her warm, wet mouth, her soft lips closing around the shaft while her slippery tongue moves to coat him in saliva. His heart is pounding as he watches her, his mind still reeling from the fact that his cock is in her mouth. Her treasured, beloved mouth.

He’s not even halfway in, and he has to resist the violent urge to shove himself down her sweet little throat. He tries to keep himself under perfect control, reminding himself that he’ll be in her mouth over and over again during these five nights. After all, he has to feed her his cum.

She’s moving her head back and forth, instinct apparently taking over. This is clearly the first time she’s pleasured a man, but she’s doing surprisingly good. Perhaps it’s the worshipful way she treats his cock, like it’s her god as well.

Fuck, he can’t resist any longer! His hand moves to her head, the first time he’s touched her in over a decade, and her eyes lift up to his face in surprise. Perhaps she’s been waiting for his touch all these years as well. While maintaining eye contact, he pushes her head down slowly, making her take more of him. He can feel himself entering her throat, can feel her gag reflex activating, but she doesn’t struggle or try to pull away. She keeps looking up at him with eyes that say, “Do as you please. My mouth belongs to you.”

Ahh, she’s so lovely! The potion must be making her throat feel like it’s on fire as he begins fucking into it, but aside from a brief glimpse of pain in her eyes, she keeps looking at him adoringly, gratefully.

He can’t last long like this. He’s dreamed of having her lips around him for too many years. His grip on her hair tightens slightly, provoking a tiny pained cry around his cock. “I’m close,” he tells her, fighting to keep his voice steady and firm. “Swallow all of it. You mustn’t spill a single drop of my sacred cum.”

She can’t nod or answer, but she blinks twice, probably her way of acknowledging his command. When the time comes, he pulls out partially. He doesn’t want to cum straight down her throat and deny her the chance to savor the taste of his divine seed. “You’re doing so good,” he tells her. “Here’s your reward!”

He shoots his load, hot and thick, into her mouth, blessing her for her devotion and love. Then he pulls out and watches her purse her pretty lips, working to keep from spilling any. She swallows twice, and still a few drops spill over her bottom lip. She uses her fingers to catch it, then licks them clean as if they were covered in honey.

Her eyes find his again, and she smiles so radiantly that he thinks he’ll go blind. “Thank you so much for honoring my lowly mouth with your holy seed, my lord!”

His breath catches, his face reddens despite all efforts to keep his emotions under control. After all this is over, he’s taking her as his wife. Fuck the elders! Fuck any plans to have him impregnate anyone else! The woman before him is the only mortal who will ever be worthy to carry his offspring!

And oh… the thought of her pregnant with his child, of her belly swollen, her breasts full with milk…

He’s already hard again.

“Come. We’ll continue in the bedroom,” he says, turning and beginning to walk away.

Behind him, she hurries to her feet and follows after him.

“Do you want to know what tonight’s ordeal is?” Gojo asks without looking back at you.

Your feet are so sensitive that even walking over the shrine’s floor feels like walking on gravel. Your whole body feels everything so acutely! Gojo’s touch, which you’ve craved for so long, felt so wonderful at first, but turned agonizing when he gripped your hair. You feel raw from head to toe, as if you’ve been skinned.

“Yes, my lord,” you answer him, your voice weak through your sore throat.

As the two of you walk into his private room, you spot the large futon laid out, and your nerves begin to flare up.

Gojo turns to look at you, his eyes gleaming. “The first ordeal is called the Night of Deflowering. I’m sure you understand what that means.”

You nod, glancing at the futon apprehensively. You’re equal parts excited to lose your virginity to the god you love above all else, and frightened because your body is so sensitive, and you know what this ritual is.

His face softens slightly. “I can’t be gentle with you, even if I want to. I have to give you pleasure and pain, and this is meant to be an ordeal.”

You know what he’s saying. He has to hurt you, for the sake of the ritual. “I can endure anything if it means you will win your battle,” you tell him. “Don’t try to hold back. I don’t want to risk the success of the ritual.”

“Then lie down,” he tells you, and you obey.

You lie on your back on the futon, and he kneels down beside you after dropping his open robe to the floor. “Raise your arms above your head,” he commands. You do so, noticing that he’s holding the silk sash from his robe in his hand. He uses it to tie your wrists together, then tethers it to a spike that’s been hammered into the floor just above the head of the futon.

“This is to anchor you,” he says, his voice kind and his eyes warm as he gazes down at you. “Your body might reflexively struggle.”

You give a little pull, curious as to how tightly you’re bound. Your arms are firmly held above your head, the silk on your wrists making your sensitive skin tingle.

Gojo steps away for a moment, then returns with a small jar. He kneels on the futon, his hands pushing your legs apart. Only the sheer fabric stands between your bare pussy and the cool air of the shrine. His fingers feel feather light as they brush the front panel of the dress aside, fully exposing you. Feeling the silky fabric glide over your most delicate skin sends a shiver down your spine.

You again feel heat flood your body as Gojo’s crystal blue eyes settle on your naked sex, staring with an intensity that magnifies your embarrassment. There’s a ravenous look on his face, and you get the impression that he’d devour you whole if he could. Instead, he opens the small jar.

“This is a topical version of the potion you drank,” he says. “It allows me to pinpoint certain parts of your body to make far more sensitive than they already are.”

You feel a sense of panic. Even more sensitive? Your whole body already feels like its nerves are exposed! He must notice your reaction, because he blesses you with a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m here with you.”

With that, he reaches his fingers into the jar and dips out some of the ointment, then uses those same fingers to touch your soft folds. He rubs the ointment over the tender flesh, and you feel the effects immediately. His holy fingers feel so good, your pussy becomes dripping wet in a matter of seconds. But the more he rubs, the more sensitive and raw you feel, to the point that even his gentle touch begins to hurt.

He pauses, collects more ointment on his fingers, and uses his free hand to spread your pussy open. Then his ointment covered fingers touch your quivering clit. Just that one little touch is enough to make you moan loudly, your back arching up off the futon.

As he rubs the ointment in, the white hot pleasure erupts, making you cum suddenly and squirt clear fluid all over Gojo’s hand. You look down, shame clear on your face. “Ah! Forgive me, my lord!”

A grin spreads over his face, no longer warm and kind but tinged with something almost frightening. His fingers go back to rubbing your clit, more of the ointment seeping in, making all the sensations that much more intense. The pleasure becomes pain, the sensations overlapping each other as another orgasm wracks your body. Your hips nearly buck off the futon as you cry out, your arms pulling at your bonds, more fluid spraying from you.

And still he keeps rubbing. You’re hit with three more orgasms in quick succession, each one leaving you more sensitive and overstimulated than the last. Your body is shaking, convulsing, as he continues what is rapidly becoming unbearable torture. Tears are pouring down your face as you look up at him. Pain has almost completely replaced pleasure at this point, as your clit has become so hypersensitive that every touch burns like fire.

“Please, my lord,” you cry out, “I… I don’t think I can take much more! It hurts!”

Suddenly his fingers press together, pinching your poor clit and making a jolt of agony shoot through you. A scream rips from your throat.

“Endure it,” he says, his voice breathy and his eyes wild. “Endure it for my sake. You said you could do it. Don’t disappoint me now.”

You nod through your sobs. “I will! I’ll endure anything for you! I belong to you, so inflict whatever you wish on this unworthy body!”

His eyes seem to flash with an eerie glow as his grin widens. “That’s right. You’re mine. This body belongs to me. This cute little clit belongs to me, so I can do anything I want to it, right?” he asks as he pinches it again, harder, tearing another sob from your mouth. Under the effects of the potion and the ointment, it feels as if your clit is being crushed between two stones.

“Yes!” you finally answer. “Yes, my god! You can… ahhhhh… do anything to me!”

His fingers release you, going back to their rubbing motions, the stark relief of pain and rush of pleasure making you cum again, your body straining on the futon. “My lord! My god!” you cry out, your eyes sliding shut.

Then you hear his voice close to your ear, almost a whisper, “There was a time when you called me Satoru.”

Your eyes snap open. “I wouldn’t dare! Such disrespect…”

He leans closer, his face so close, he could kiss you. Oh, how you wish he would! But he halts just before his mouth reaches yours and says, “My name on your lips would sound so much sweeter to me than a thousand reverent prayers.”

Your body shivers upon hearing such words, but you can’t bring yourself to say his name. You’re not allowed to!

He draws back to his knees and pulls your body into his lap, your legs spread widely and hanging on either side of him. You can feel the heavy weight of his enormous cock resting on your drenched pussy.

He looks you in the eyes. “I’m commanding you… call out my name when I fuck your virgin pussy!”

You barely have time to gasp before he suddenly shoves in, tearing through you, immediately crashing against your cervix. The potion affects all, even your insides, so the pain is blinding, unimaginable, cloying. You scream, your arms reflexively struggling against the sash. It feels like you’ve been ripped in two.

But this is your ordeal. You promised him you would endure anything for him, and you will!

You look up at him, your face wet with spilled tears. “S-Satoru,” you say, your voice shaky and broken from screaming. “I love you!”

He begins thrusting into you, battering your cervix each time, tearing you further and further open. “Your god’s cock is inside you,” he says, his own breathing becoming fast and erratic. “What should you say?”

“Thank you… Satoru!” you cry between sobs. “Thank you so… much! My mortal body is… undeserving… of such a gift!”

His hands are gripping your hips, his fingers bruising, all amplified a hundredfold by the potion. He slams in particularly hard, knocking the breath out of you for a moment.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his eyes watching the wild emotions on your face.

You sob again. “Yes… so much!”

“Good,” he says, in a sultry voice, “The ritual demands it. But it also demands you feel pleasure.” With those words, he slips one hand down and his fingers find your clit again, rubbing so gently that you cum again within seconds, your abused pussy clenching down on him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight! Such a perfect little sacrifice!” he says, his eyes looking crazed again. He keeps fucking you, harder and harder, making the pain excruciating. At the same time, his fingers make you cum over and over, the pleasure making your mind go blank. Your eyes roll back as he presses in even further, and suddenly releases his seed with a grunt.

It feels like he’s filled up your very womb.

He slowly pulls out, and you can feel something leaking out of you. Blood and cum, staining the futon.

“It will be like this from now on,” he says as he unties your wrists, his voice softer now. “You’ll take the potion every day, and I’ll apply the ointment every few hours. You’ll feel all of this all the time, and much worse. The other ordeals are far harsher.”

You bring your sore arms down, crying at the pain.

He stares down at you broken form, watching you pant. His eyes turn so gentle, and his hands reach out to you, but stop short of touching you.

“Rest for a moment, then I’ll take you again.”

You look up with panicked eyes, but wrestle your emotions under control and say, “It is an honor… Satoru.”

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@airandyeah

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #Gojo #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #x reader

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candycandy00 · 5 days ago

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Once Upon a Time - A Nanami x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This time Beauty and the Beast featuring Nanami! After accidentally running over a magical rabbit in your carriage, you’re cursed to become a bunny woman, lurking in an abandoned castle and called a “beast” by the villagers. Sorcerer Nanami is sent to investigate, but once he learns your secret, you can’t allow him to leave!

Read Gojo x Cinderella here!

Read Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty here!

Read Choso x Rapunzel Here!

Read Toji x Snow White Here!

Read Higuruma x Little Mermaid Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Nanami as “Beauty”, Reader as “Beast”. Reader is technically a bunny hybrid. Fingering.

Any feedback is adored! Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear.

Nanami sighs and rubs the spot between his eyes before putting his glasses back on. Another day, another troublesome job.

The Sorcerer’s Guild handed off a task no one else wanted, and Nanami felt obligated to accept. It should be a rather simple job, but therein lies the problem. Simple jobs don’t pay well, they’re most definitely not exciting or interesting, and they generally take up more time than they’re worth.

In this case, a local abandoned castle has been the subject of rumors for a few years now. It’s haunted or it’s cursed or there’s secretly a band of vagabonds living there or there’s a monster stalking the halls. All the usual tales passed between children and superstitious adults with nothing better to do with their time. The guild has largely ignored the reports, until a few days ago when an injury occurred.

A woman came to the guild carrying her young son. His leg had been mangled by some sort of wild animal. While the guild suspected a wolf, the mother insisted that a “beast” from the castle attacked the boy.

As for the boy himself? He was strangely quiet the whole time, only saying that he didn’t remember what happened. His odd behavior, and the mother’s urgency, were enough to make the guild finally decide to investigate. And so Nanami goes, riding in a small carriage to the castle to, he is certain, find nothing more than cobwebs and dust.

When he arrives around sundown, there’s a small crowd of nearly twenty-five people, all from the nearby village, gathered at the castle gate. They greet him with a mixture of excitement and frustration.

“Bout time the guild sent someone!” a man yells as Nanami climbs out of the carriage and approaches the gate.

“Slay the beast!” someone chants, and a few others repeat the call.

Nanami tries to keep the disdain from showing in his face as he looks at them. He has little patience for bloodthirsty mobs, but he knows most of them are just scared. He politely but brusquely pushes through the crowd and begins opening the iron gate, then steps through and shuts it tightly behind him.

“I’m just here to investigate for now,” he tells the mob once the bars of the gate are separating him from them. The villagers shout and complain but he ignores them now and turns his attention to the dark, looming castle.

Many years ago, it housed the royal family of this region, but they moved to a newer, nicer castle more than three generations back. This one fell into disrepair, but as far as Nanami knows, it’s still owned by the royals.

Looking at it now, he can understand why they moved. The castle is large and sprawling, but it’s built of dark stone and has few windows. The central tower is an imposing spire with a pointed top, like a shadowed arrow pointing at the sky. There are no gardens or lawns, only rough, rocky terrain on all sides.

The place looks positively depressing. In past eras full of war, it was probably designed to be intimidating, to project stern authority and power. But in time of peace, it must have been stifling.

When Nanami reaches the heavy wooden door, he tries to open it, but it doesn’t budge. It must be bolted from the inside. No matter. He clenches his fist and it glows with magical power, infusing his body with supernatural strength. He shoves the door and it bursts open, tearing the inner locks and bolts with it.

He’d hoped to cause no damage, but if the royals have a problem they can send a bill for the repairs to the guild.

Walking into the grand entrance hall, Nanami uses magic to create a ball of light in his hand to illuminate his path. The castle is in decent shape considering how many years it’s been abandoned. Perhaps it’s being maintained at the bare minimum level, though he hasn’t heard any reports of servants coming or going.

As he turns toward the ball room, he thinks he glimpses movement in the shadows ahead of him. An animal? Or something else? He keeps his senses on high alert and keeps moving.

Someone is in your castle! In your home! You heard a ruckus outside and saw the gathered villagers from your window, then watched the carriage pull up. A tall man with blonde hair stepped out and now he’s inside the castle! You wondered how he was able to get past the locked door, but you see the glowing orb in his hand. A sorcerer!

This is bad. If he spots you, he’ll kill you! Your usual tactic of scaring people away won’t work on him. Sorcerers are a fearless lot, with the power to back up their confidence. He won’t run from you. If he doesn’t leave on his own, you’ll have no choice but to kill him before he can kill you. In a straightforward fight, you’d lose. There’s no question about that. But an ambush? If you can take him by surprise, perhaps you can take him out with one swipe. Go for the neck.

You watch from the shadows as he walks through the ballroom. When he holds the light up to look at something, you get a good view of his face. What a shame, he’s quite handsome. He’s wearing the traditional sorcerer’s garb: black robes over black pants, detailing at the collar and cuffs indicating his rank. You don’t know what the colors and symbols mean, but you hope he’s a rookie. Except, probably not. He looks like he’s in his early thirties, and you don’t think they begin training at that age.

Around his neck are several beaded chains. Supposedly they help focus his power, but you’ve always suspected sorcerers wear them for the aesthetics. On his face sits a pair of round glasses with slightly yellow tinted lenses. He’s tall enough to be imposing, obviously well built as his muscles shift and flex beneath his robe as he moves.

Why does he have to be so attractive?

Regardless, it’s you or him, so you follow him from room to room, keeping a safe distance while hoping he simply gives up and leaves.

It’s in the throne room that he finally stops and gathers his beads into his free hand. He chants some sort of incantation, and suddenly the entire room becomes brightly lit! You’re quick enough to duck behind a stone pillar, your heart beating rapidly.

He’s not leaving. Instead his investigation is growing more thorough. This is it! You have to take him out now, while he’s just used a lot of power to light the room!

You glance out from behind the pillar and see that his back is turned to you. Lucky! Without wasting another moment, you leap out and lunge toward him, razor sharp claws out and ready, aimed at the back of his neck.

Just before you make contact, he suddenly turns, and his hand shoots out to grab you by your long, furry rabbit ears. You kick and struggle, but his grip is firm as he holds you up, your feet dangling above the floor.

He waits until you exhaust yourself and go still, then he pulls you close so that he can examine your face. “What are you?” he asks.

You immediately go tense. “I’m the beast that lives in this castle!” you yell, lifting your hands up to try to pry his fingers loose.

His eyes move down your form, regarding your body covered in a thin layer of fine fur beneath your simple black dress. Your hands and feet end in paws with sharp claws, your nose is tiny and pink, and small whiskers protrude from your face.

In short, you’re a bunny woman.

“A beast, eh?” he asks, a skeptical expression on his face. “You seem more human to me.”

You calm down again, going limp in his grasp. Your ears are beginning to hurt even though he’s not squeezing too tightly. You really shouldn’t tell him the truth, not with the risks involved, but you have no choice at this point. If you don’t explain, he’ll probably kill you.

“I am human. Or at least I was.”

His eyes widen slightly behind his glasses, then he lowers you to the floor and releases you. “Explain,” he says in a commanding tone.

You frown at him, hating him for putting you in this position. You can only tell so many people about the curse before something bad happens. But you take a deep breath and begin talking.

“I was riding in a carriage three years ago, on my way to a ball in a neighboring kingdom. I was running late, so I was rushing my coachman. Before we left, a villager told me to be careful and take my time, but I ignored her. I ignored my coachman telling me he saw something in the road up ahead. I just kept telling him to hurry,” you say with an air of sadness.

“It was a rabbit, sitting in the road. I guess it was too frightened to move, and we… the carriage… ran over it. We stopped and I jumped out to see if it could be saved, but instead of a dying rabbit, I found a dying old woman. She put a curse on me, and this is the result.”

“What kind of curse?” the sorcerer asks.

You shrug. “How should I know? I don’t live in that world. She gave me a wilted rose and said once all its petals fall off, I’ll be stuck like this forever. I’ve preserved it the best I can, but I’ve noticed that each time I tell someone about the curse, another petal falls.”

He seems to be thinking about your situation for a moment before he says, “Show me this rose.”

You don’t like how bossy and demanding he is, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let an experienced sorcerer check it out. You’ve already lost a petal anyway.

“Follow me,” you say, trying to sound commanding yourself as you lead him through the back entrance of the throne room and down a dusty hallway. You reach the door to what you’ve dubbed the “rose room” and step inside. The sorcerer follows, looking around the room in a way that suggests he’s mentally cataloging everything he sees.

In the center of the room under a glass case sitting on a small round table, is the rose. As you suspected, another crimson petal has fallen, lying at the bottom of the case as evidence. The sorcerer leans in to examine it closely, then turns to you. “How many people have you told?”

“Besides you, four. My parents, our family doctor who came to check me out, and an old family servant who sneaks in here sometimes to drop off things I need.”

He stares at you for a moment, his eyes partially obscured by his glasses, before finally asking, “Did your parents banish you from their home?”

You shake your head and look down. “No. I banished myself. Sometimes I have these… fits… that make it hard to control my animalistic side. I didn’t want to risk hurting anyone so I came here.”

He nods approvingly. “A wise choice. So is that what happened to the boy? Did he come across you during one of your ‘fits’?”

You freeze. “The boy?”

“The one whose leg you mauled. He’s the reason I was sent to investigate.”

You narrow your eyes. “Is that what he told you?”

The sorcerer seems to be watching your reactions closely, but he answers easily enough. “He claims he doesn’t remember what happened. His mother is convinced you did it.”

You look away from him, casting your gaze on the rose. “It was my claws that wounded him, yes.”

He’s silent for a while, as if thinking over your responses. Then he steps back over to the rose and studies it again. “Why didn’t you come to the guild for help?” he asks without turning away from the rose.

You scoff. “Are you joking? Word of my curse would spread through the guild. I’d quickly lose control of who is being told. I can’t afford to lose more petals. Speaking of which,” you add, narrowing your eyes, “you must know by now that I can’t simply let you leave. Until I can feel confident that you won’t tell anyone else about my curse, you’re staying here in the castle.”

Nanami stares at the cursed woman with a mixture of pity and annoyance. “You can’t overpower me,” he tells her.

She smiles smugly. “I know that. But I can overpower them quite easily,” she says, nodding her head toward the front of the castle, where the villagers were gathered when he came in.

His eyes narrow. “You’re saying you’ll attack them if I leave?”

“I’m saying I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my secret.”

She’s bluffing. He knows this. But he really does understand her fear of her secret getting out. Maybe he should stay here for a while, try to learn more about the curse, maybe find a way to break it. If possible, he’d prefer not to agitate her. She mentioned “fits” where she potentially becomes violent, so it’s only a matter of time before something bad happens if nothing is done.

“Alright,” he says, crossing his arms, “I’ll stay for the time being.”

She looks relieved, but she only says, “Make yourself at home. Go anywhere you like in the castle but stay away from the dungeon.”

That piqued his curiosity. “Why avoid the dungeon?”

She starts to walk away but pauses and looks at him over her shoulder. “A lady needs her privacy.”

Accepting that answer, Nanami resumes looking through the castle, now lighting lamps as he goes to bring a little life to this dreary place. He searches through kitchens, dining rooms, bedrooms, and parlors. He finds nothing of interest, though he wasn’t really expecting to at this point. Still, if he’s going to be staying here for a while, he might as well familiarize himself with the layout.

His wandering eventually takes him to a huge, double width wooden door. It’s thankfully unlocked, so he doesn’t have to use any power to open it. Inside, he finds an enormous library, the walls lined top to bottom with shelves. Each shelf is full of old books, stacked neatly in alphabetical order. Curiously, they’re not covered in dust, but look well cared for.

Nanami walks over to one shelf and absently runs his hand along the leather spines, then chooses a random book and pulls it out. It’s heavy in his hands, the pages crisp as he thumbs through them, the pleasant smell of old paper wafting into the air.

“You like books?”

He turns to find the woman in the doorway, watching him. “I do,” he says, closing the book and carefully replacing it on the shelf. His eyes sweep over the other shelves as he wonders why the royal family left these here to rot. “This is quite an impressive collection.”

“Thanks,” she replies, and his eyes shift back to her. Thanks? What an odd response for someone who essentially broke in here to hide out. She seems to notice his confusion, so she quickly goes on. “I’ve been taking care of the books.”

“Ah, I see,” he says. “Have you read any of them?”

She smiles, not the fake smug smile from before, but a genuine one. “I’ve read all of them.”

That surprises him. “Really? Every one?”

She nods. “I’ve been here for three years, with nothing else to do but read.”

That makes sense. Still, he finds it hard to believe she’s had the time to read so many.

“Feel free to use this library as you please,” she tells him before walking out of the room.

For the next few days, Nanami remains at the castle, usually in the library, reading or just browsing the many books. He sees the woman every evening at dinner, when she puts out simple food in the dining room. She’s clearly not an experienced cook, but she knows enough to feed herself, and shares it with him.

They don’t talk much, except when she asks which book he’s reading first. When he answers, she seems to become more friendly and talkative as they discuss the book’s plot.

Four days after coming to the castle, Nanami is walking down the hall from the library to the bedroom he’s using when he hears the woman’s voice, quiet but urgent.

“I told you not to come back here! It’s dangerous! Didn’t you learn anything last time?”

Then a different voice, young and louder, “I was worried! I thought the sorcerers might come and kill you!”

The woman sighs heavily. “I’m fine, see? So go home, and never come back. This is no place for children!”

As Nanami gets closer to the voices, he turns a corner in time to see the woman storming off, down another hall. Left alone in front of Nanami is a child. It takes him a moment to recognize the child as the boy with the injured leg. Indeed, his entire left leg is still thickly bandaged.

Nanami clears his throat to get the boy’s attention. When the boy looks up, his face reddens when he realizes a sorcerer is standing a few feet away.

“What are you doing here?” Nanami asks him, stepping closer.

The boy is using one crutch, his small hand gripping it tightly as he looks at the floor. “Promise not to tell anyone?”

Nanami squats down to be eye level with the child. “I promise.”

The boy hesitates, eyes flicking from left to right, then says, “I come here to play sometimes. I know I’m not supposed to. Mom yells at me when I do, and the bunny lady chases me out when she sees me.”

“Is that what happened to your leg?” Nanami asks. “Did the bunny lady hurt you while chasing you out of the castle?”

The boy shakes his head vigorously. “No! She didn’t mean to. It was an accident!”

Nanami gives the child a kind smile. “Can you tell me what happened? I promise to keep it a secret.”

“I was playing in the top of the tower,” the boy says, pointing in the vague direction of the spire Nanami saw from the outside. “I wanted to look out the window to see how high up I was, so I climbed up and leaned over to look down. I fell out, but the bunny lady caught me by my leg. When she was pulling me up, her claws scratched me, but I know it wasn’t on purpose!”

Nanami nods, understanding now. “But why didn’t you tell the truth?”

The boy suddenly has teary eyes. “I was scared of getting in trouble for playing in the castle! I said I didn’t remember anything, but mom thought the bunny lady did it on purpose. Please, mister! Don’t let the sorcerers kill her! She acts mean but she’s really nice!”

Ah. All the pieces have fallen into place. Nanami pats the boy’s head. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to help her. Now go home to your mother. The bunny lady is right, this castle is full of dangers for a child.”

The boy smiles, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “Thanks, mister!”

Nanami walks the child to the gate and watches until an adult emerges from the road leading to the village to claim him, then he returns to the castle. He has much to think about.

A week after the sorcerer, who finally gave his name as Nanami, began staying at the castle, you find yourself looking forward to the dinners you share together.

The two of you don’t interact that much during the day, with him lingering in the library and you keeping to your bedroom or the dungeon, but just knowing someone else is here with you is strangely comforting.

In the evening, you eat dinner together and talk at length about many things, from the specifics of your curse to his job as a sorcerer. But mostly you discuss the books he’s reading. It’s not uncommon for the two of you to remain at the table long after your plates have been emptied, lost in your talks.

Nanami is not an especially chatty man, but he’s not silent either, and he provides intelligent, thoughtful conversation. His voice is smooth and pleasant to your sensitive ears, and his eyes are kind as he looks at you from behind his glasses.

You almost wish this could last forever.

But you know that’s not possible. You can’t keep him here much longer. He’s surely already figured out that you would never intentionally harm the villagers, that your threat was empty. So why is he still here? Just to humor you?

As you walk into the dining room, you smell something delicious. Nanami said he would take a turn cooking tonight, so you’re excited to try whatever he’s prepared.

On the table is a spread of beautiful dishes, the sorts of things you haven’t eaten in years. There’s a hearty stew, fresh baked bread, roasted chicken with peppers, and even a dessert: carrot cake. Your eyes shine as you look over the food. “It all looks amazing,” you tell him as he pulls out your chair for you.

“It’s the least I can do. You cook for me every night,” he says, taking his own seat across from you.

“Where did you even get all this?” you ask, picking up a fork to begin taking bites.

He uses a knife to cut off a slice of hot bread. “I talked to that servant who drops off supplies. He takes requests you know.”

You find yourself laughing at that, wondering why you never thought of it before. Ahh, it’s been so long since you last laughed!

Dinner goes by wonderfully, every bite scrumptious. When you’re just finishing your dessert, fully prepared for a long evening of discussion, you get the first pang.

It sends a jolt through you, and your fork drops to the table. Oh no. Not now! You stand up so quickly that your chair falls over behind you, and Nanami looks up in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern evident on his face.

You back away. “I feel one of my fits coming on,” you say, still putting distance between you and him. “I… I have to get to the dungeon! Don’t come down there, no matter what!”

Before Nanami can even respond, you dash out of the dining room and down the hall, to the steps that take you to the underground dungeon.

The place is a relic of another time, of a royal family who dealt with violent wars and uprisings. There are eight cells, each with iron bars and old cots and little else. You rush into the first one and slam the door shut, reaching through the bars and locking it up with the key. You drop the key on the other side, within your reach.

You’ve had these fits long enough to know that if you lose enough of your mind to try to leave the cell, you won’t have enough of it to try to retrieve the key.

There’s a bit of variety to these fits. Some leave you violent, some turn you into a ravenously hungry beast, and others… others leave you so mindlessly aroused that you think you’ll die from sheer lust.

Maybe it’s because an attractive man has been staying with you, but this fit is definitely of the latter variety. You quickly pull your panties down under your dress and kick them away as you drop to the floor, your back against the cool stone wall. You spread your legs, bending your knees up, and shove your hand between your now slick thighs.

The fur on your pussy is so thin and fine as to be invisible, which makes the soft dewy skin there only more sensitive as it’s the most exposed area on your entire body. You moan as your fingers slip between your velvety folds, feeling how wet you are already, but you cry in frustration when you remember that you can’t pleasure yourself the way you want. You’re too afraid of accidentally injuring yourself with your claws, so you can’t even touch your clit or push one finger inside yourself.

Your moans and cries get louder, your body shaking with desire as your hips buck off the floor, craving friction of any kind.

You almost forget Nanami is in the castle, until your improved hearing picks up the sound of footsteps. You look up in horror just in time to see Nanami step up to the bars of your cell, his eyes widened and his face tinted pink.

With a shriek you duck your head, trying to hide your face. “D-don’t look!” you cry, even as your legs remain spread open, your hand still rubbing your aching, dripping pussy with your palm. “I can’t stop! So please… go away!”

“This is what you meant by a fit?” he asks, his voice surprisingly calm as he turns his back to you.

“My claws! I can’t…”

He seems to understand your dilemma, because after a pause of listening to your whimpers and moans, he says, “Would you like me to help you?”

That almost shocks you enough to make you freeze. You look at his tall figure standing just feet away, at his broad shoulders, at his muscular back that fills out his robe so well.

Oh god.

Your breaths are shaky and hitched, and you can only cry out one word: “Please!”

He turns around, his gaze meeting yours. What a lurid, filthy image you must be right now. But he bends down and picks up the key, then uses it to open the cell. He walks inside, his movements agonizingly slow. Then he sits down on the floor beside you and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling your desperate hand away.

He replaces your hand with his own, sliding it over your quivering thigh and pressing his palm to your slippery heat. His fingers part your folds, finding your engorged clit with ease. You gasp at that first touch, when his warm and slightly rough textured fingers rub over your twitching nub. When he begins circling it, then rolling it between two fingers, your body spasms with pleasure and breathy cries escape your lips.

“Nanami…” you moan, tears in your eyes from the overwhelming sensations. You lean against his firm body, gazing up at his handsome face. His eyes are warm, his expression focused as his fingers bring you the pleasure you’ve been dying for. The wet slick sounds of your arousal fill the cell, occasionally drained out by your cries. Your hands are planted at your sides, and you don’t dare move them lest you grip his arm and scratch him.

You’re shaking violently, your back arching from the wall. Nanami’s voice is soothing in your ear: “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

His fingers continue stroking your clit, never moving to push inside your clenching pussy. Perhaps he feels like that would be going too far, but at this point you’d move heaven and earth to have him inside you. If only you could tell him that, but your breaking voice only seems capable of whines and cries.

Finally your body tenses, your hips lifting off the stone floor to press further against his touch as you climax, cumming on his fingers and squirting all over the floor of the cell.

His hand lingers between your legs, still softly rubbing you as you tremble through your orgasm, tears leaking down your cheeks. When you go still and quiet, he withdraws his hand slowly. “Are you alright now?” he asks.

You’re panting, gingerly closing your legs. “Yes. Thank you,” you say, your face hot with embarrassment now that it’s over.

He stands up and walks over to the cell door, pushing it open. He looks back at you and says, “Anytime,” before disappearing into the darkened dungeon hall.

#icymi

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