dollykitty333
dollykitty333
Dolly
50 posts
cinnamon girl💐demigirl | omnisexual | arianna 19 | blk
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dollykitty333 · 4 days ago
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How I feel reading smut while being scared of intimacy in real life
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dollykitty333 · 1 month ago
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@2_MA_TO on X/Twitter
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dollykitty333 · 1 month ago
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Intern zyane 🥹🥹
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dollykitty333 · 1 month ago
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cheese slice accessory
can't wait to see all of you guys' infants and toddlers getting cheesed! ♡ for infants & toddlers ♡ base game compatible
FREE DOWNLOAD
follow me on Tiktok, Twitter, and YouTube ♡
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dollykitty333 · 2 months ago
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Ponytail and lollipops, dinerettes and soda pops
New blue bathing suit, ruched tops and Cadillacs
Blue Lake Carter docks, hopscotch, hot talk
Alabama hard knocks, motel brass locks
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dollykitty333 · 2 months ago
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easy white chocolate 😍😍
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dollykitty333 · 2 months ago
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dollykitty333 · 2 months ago
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baby, save my life
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dollykitty333 · 2 months ago
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literal chef kisses
the king's cock crown
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it's easy to fall in love - and perhaps even easier to fall out of it when you discover the penpal who captured your heart might not be the man whose signature is on his letters
synopsis: a poor princess. a playboy emperor. and a devoted duke at his aide. heavy is the head that wears the crown - and heavier is the hand that wears the ring binding them together. what happens when you're up for the role of a bride? or the future empress?
pairing: emperor!gojo x princess!reader, duke!Geto x princess!reader
content: mdni, angst and smut and fluff, royal fantasy sort of au (any sort of historical accuracy is thrown out the window here lol), she falls first, he falls harder, gojo is a spoiled brat at first lol, gojo getting brutally humbled, Geto trying to steal reader from him, falling in love, heavy pining/yearning, hurt/comfort, accidental voyeurism, oral (f! receiving), kidnapping, mentions of murder/injury/torture, handcuffs, character growth, possessive geto, political schemes, unprotected piv sex, light breeding kink, fingering, loss of virginity, multiple povs and positions, creampie, backshots, marriage, making out, extremely protective gojo, proposals, confessions
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Satoru Gojo was born lucky.
Beautiful and blessed. The sole heir to an empire that spawned over centuries, more wishes and wealth than any man could dream afforded to him before he could even walk.
Anything he wanted was his.
And if he didn't want it?
"I don't like her," Gojo complained, glaring through the stained glass at his afternoon play date, a potential bride - although at age twelve, he was still at least a decade away from dealing with something as dreadful as marriage.
"Please be nice," His attendant reminded him, fixing the collars on his shirt and huffing as she hurried to fix a stray strand of hair. "She's a princess too, you know."
"She's strange," He muttered under his breath, watching you sit politely at the table, hands folded in your lap, only occasionally smoothing out the skirt of your dress.
It was too big on you, probably passed down from a sister or some other family member. Frayed at the helm, like it'd been worn quite a few times before.
Some princess you were.
You'd been clinging to the shadows his whole life, attending bi-annual balls with your family just to cling to the background like a piece of art no one bothered to look at. He wouldn't have noticed, really, but your attention was annoyingly always on him.
He promised to be on his best behavior before they shooed him out to greet you, rolling his bright blue eyes the second they turned around and sticking a bug in your tea ten minutes into your so-called date just to see you squeak.
You pushed off the table trying to stand up, but it just made your cup spill in your lap instead - bug included.
It was almost cute to watch you panic, brows pushed together in a frustrated pout as you desperately tried to clean yourself, maids and attendants rushing out to see the commotion and their young master responsible for it.
But somehow, you were the only one who got scolded for it. Watching you get the blame made him feel bad, a harsh stab of guilt pricking at him, but he was quick to push it down.
Just the perks of being a prince, he supposed.
You were the unlucky one here.
Gojo always got his way - so why should he marry you?
He didn't even have to complain this time - whatever distant family member that brought you to the palace caught some grave illness, and you returned with them to whatever impoverished kingdom you came from.
Occasionally, he'd receive letters from you over the next handful (or two) of years, time passing while they went unopened, shoved off on his aide while he busied himself with politics and parties. Going from a prince to an emperor while you were gone after his father passed. Geto halfheartedly scolded him for not replying to you, insisted he should maintain a positive relationship even if he wasn't going to marry you, but what was the point of listening when he was supposed to be the man everyone listened to?
You didn't attend the balls anymore, but your letters grew more frequent, at least two a month left in the stack on his desk before Geto snatched the pile to reply for him.
"Why is she sending so many?" Gojo groaned, picking up one and squinting at the neat script on the front of the envelope, the ornate wax seal carefully stamped on. He reclined back in his office chair, legs sprawled out as he traced over the ink splotches on the ivory.
"Hm?" Geto murmured, too distracted with whatever form he was filling out to look up. Despite being his aide, he was a Duke too, technically in the line for the throne and with people of his own to manage and business to attend to.
"Our favorite princess," He dryly replied. You'd become something of a joke, more with himself than to Geto. A constant that was never even there, a shadow that followed him despite the years and distance that separated you. A running gag of a girl who couldn't take a hint.
He caught a whiff of a surprisingly intoxicating perfume, blinking a few times before realizing it must be from your letter. Geto noticed what he was holding a second too late, but Gojo was already cutting the envelope open and pulling the papers out.
"Wait-"
"It's addressed to me, isn't it?" Gojo teased, standing up and walking over to the sun-lit window to read it.
And the first line in its pretty cursive and swirling letters had him laughing already.
"My dearest Satoru?" He repeated incredulously, glancing back over his shoulder at his very much guilty friend.
"Look," Geto started, dark eyes narrowed as he let out a sigh.
"Is she under the impression I'm the one writing to her?" Honestly, before this moment? He'd never considered what Geto did with any of yours letters after he received them. Perhaps just polite replies?
Nothing that would make you comfortable enough to call him that.
"Yes," Geto curtly answered, his face still stoic, unreadable as Gojo gaped at him.
"Suguru, seriously-" He scoffed, returning to reading the letter once more as he shook his head.
He wasn't sure really what he thought he'd find in it.
Something to laugh at? A few short paragraphs somehow still stammering about something random.
Not your sincere words, asking him questions and inquiring about his health and the last set of reforms he rolled out, as if you were genuinely interested in all of it. Casually writing about something that happened back near your own capitol, dropping names he didn't know and discussing the possibility of adapting similar laws there too.
"She's rather sweet," Geto murmured, standing up and brushing off his uniform as he walked over to snatch the letter back.
Gojo wasn't done reading though.
He scampered away, holding up the letter and squinting at the last paragraph, skimming over it just to freeze. "She's coming here?"
"She is an Empress candidate," Geto bluntly reminded him, his lips pushed together in a tight frown before he tugged the letter free from Gojo's hand.
A handful of women would be showing up this week for him to officially meet, despite knowing half of them for most of his life anyway. People were starting to get impatient with the way he was dragging his feet to the alter, rumors swirling and complaints piling that he hadn't picked a bride. Even internally, the staff was starting to get annoyed picking up the slack from the duties an Empress would typically take care of.
It made sense you'd be included. A princess from an ally kingdom, no matter how impoverished, was still a princess. Trained and molded for the role of a ruler from birth.
How could he pick a bride when no one held his attention? Was it just meant to be a boring business decision for everyone else's benefit but his?
"What? Am I supposed to pretend I'm the one who's been writing to her this whole time?" Gojo groaned, trying to imagine how that would even go.
Perhaps it would be like when you were kids, back when the last time he'd seen you was a fucking decade ago, and you were too shy to stutter out more than a few syllables.
Or maybe you'd changed so much that he wouldn't even recognize you.
"I will inform her myself that it was me," Geto grunted, smoothing out the letter and returning to his desk.
"No, just," Gojo paused, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just let me read over her letters and I'll take care of it."
"I would prefer-"
"It's fine, I can handle it," Gojo insisted.
If he was going to let you down gently, wasn't the least he could do was learn a little about you first?
He still hadn't meant to stay up all night reading the letters Geto had saved.
Sweet couldn't cover it.
You were a mystery book he thought he'd solved just to get proven wrong page after page.
The shy wisp of a worm that would so rarely return has stare had morphed into a bright butterfly, speaking so comfortably in perfume-soaked letters, flower petals you dried added between the pages.
Your prose would go from soft to snarky, telling stories of your home, shaping tales of holidays and the hard months in-between of managing your family's estate and fulfilling the duties expected of you on a tight budget. Barely speaking of yourself, but painting him a picture of the world that surrounded you in pretty stokes, always devoting a page to asking about him, bringing up the details Geto must've given you.
It wasn't polite. It was intimate.
Real and raw in an odd sort of way, more than casual concern or anything close, carrying a weight he was unaccustomed to when you finished a letter off with the wish he'd be in your dreams that night.
And strangest of all?
Gojo found he didn't dislike it. Not one bit.
Rather, a faint flame of regret had been born, small and quiet in the pit of his stomach as he poured over your pretty cursive and wondered if perhaps he should've been the one responding all this time.
It might've been his face your first fallen for, these words were for Geto.
Would you still have replied so often it had been him?
Shared your adoration so ardently? Or would you have gotten sick of his humor? His bluntness and overbearing tendency to kill the joke before he'd finished telling it?
He spent the rest of the week reading them again and again once he retired back to his room, like some strange bedtime story.
He'd fallen asleep with the last one still in hand, the corner crumpled under his grip when he woke the next morning to the harsh sun.
Yawning as he rolled out, the palace in somewhat of a frenzy for today's guests, a commotion he could hear even from upstairs. And honestly?
His heart had worked itself in a frenzy too.
Would you be arriving today too?
What would you say when you saw him? Would you throw your arms around his neck or kiss his cheek?
So what if Geto happened to be the one who wrote you back?
Gojo felt like he knew you too. Knew the names of your family members and what the weather was like back home. Had memorized enough lines, etched the swirls and sweeps of your penmanship into his brain, the way you signed his name and how you dotted and crossed your letters. Studied up on your kingdom in his spare time, shame creeping in that he'd never bothered to before.
He padded across the room barefoot, stretching his long limbs and snagging a silk robe from off his armchair, tying it loosely around his waist before walking out to the balcony.
Carriages were pulled up in front of the open gates, luggage being unloaded onto the maintained path.
And as luck would have it, you were there.
He wasn't sure how he knew, or what even caught his eye, a familiar flash of your hair color, a glimpse of your face, but he knew. And fuck, you were gorgeous.
Pretty in a way he never paid attention to before.
An idiotic idea took shape in the back of his brain.
Who wouldn't be honored to have the Emperor personally come out to greet them?
ᡴꪫ
The palace was precisely how you remembered it.
Sprawling and sun-bathed, all the colors warmer, brighter than the rest of the world. Deep green grass and blossoming flowers lining the paths, vines climbing up the sides of the walls.
"Can you please send my bags ahead to my room? I'd like to look around the garden first," You smiled at the attendant, trying hard not to pick at the nails you'd spent so long painting last night at the inn you'd spent the night at. Bathing and exfoliating, waking up far too early to prepare for today. The first time you'd see your Satoru again.
The attendant curtly nodded, carrying your bags and hurrying up the path, and you wondered what else you might find here.
You weren't delusional enough to think Satoru would actually choose you when there were other more capable options. Women with more wealth and finer families, prettier too.
But he was your friend at least, wasn't he?
And sometimes, some people fell in love with their friends, right?
You walked down the weaving side paths, heading for a fountain you used to toss coins in as a child, wishing for the man you might marry now.
The stone sculpture sitting atop it was weathered, cracked and worn by rain and age, but the water was still a crystalline blue, coins littering the bottom and the sun bounced off the surface. You sat by the edge, fingers skimming over it and sending ripples across.
You didn't have any coins on you today.
What would you have wished for this time?
"Oh? It's bad luck to steal those, you know," A playful voice called out, starting you as your head snapped to the sound of it.
Satoru Gojo in the flesh. And uh, a robe.
Nothing else.
You blinked, blushing at the sight of his broad chest on display, his robe tied low enough you could fucking count his muscles, his hair mused and messed up like he just rolled out of bed, blue eyes still hazy with sleep.
"I wasn't planning on it," You wryly muttered, averting your gaze back to the fountain to stop yourself from staring, suddenly embarrassed. Still, there was a slight sense of familiarity, the way he smiled so easily at you, his knee brushing against your leg when he strolled closer.
"You're not excited to see me, princess?" He teased, plopping down next to you on the edge.
"It has been a while, hasn't it?" You tilted your head to the side, studying his face, the barely-there dimple by his smirk, the thick lashes framing his eyes. They looked ever more beautiful than you remembered, the sky and the reflection from the water reflecting back in them.
"I should apologize for my truly terrible behavior back then," He chuckled, not entirely sorry at all, but confident enough you'd forgive him for it anyway.
He'd never been hated in his life.
Even at his worst, you couldn't crush the feelings that'd sprouted in your heart when you were younger and only bloomed with each letter he'd sent.
"Apologize then," You dared, something about his presence bringing out a boldness in you.
He leaned in a little closer, and you couldn't help the way your eyes flickered down to the soft pink of his lips as they formed the words. "I'm very sorry."
"Okay," You shrugged, feigning far more nonchalance than you felt.
"Do you forgive me?" He pouted, sticking a flower he must've plucked on the way here in your face.
"Did I say that?" You rolled your eyes, grabbing the flower and carefully examining the petals of the bright orange lily. "I suppose you must not know much about flowers."
"They're pretty," He hummed. "Like you."
"This one symbolizes passion," You murmured, picking a petal off and setting it afloat on the water. "Or hatred."
It was bad luck back home.
He laughed, leaning in closer while you picked off another petal, playing a crude game of he-loves-me-not in your own head while he watched.
You were on not when you heard someone approaching.
"Your Imperial Majesty," A cold voice called out, and you both turned to see a shrewd blond man pushing a thin pair of glasses up his nose.
"Nanamin, have you met-" Satoru grinned, slinging a muscled arm over your shoulder.
"You were supposed to meet Mei Mei half an hour ago," The blond man interrupted with a scoff, glaring pointedly at your host.
A flicker of jealousy shot through you, pierced your heart at the reminder you were just one of several women he was meant to entertain in the coming weeks.
"She'll live," Satoru dismissed with his hand, yawning as he shifted, spreading out his long legs like he was content to stay all day.
"Please don't make preferential treatment a problem on the first day," Nanami muttered, exasperated. "Even if the princess was was penpals with your friend."
"Satoru?" You glanced over at him, confusion probably scrawled over your face. But he was just wincing, well-aware of whatever he meant.
"It's not," He hesitated, jaw pulled tight. "I mean-"
The horrifying realization set in, all the hope draining from your body.
"Were you not the one writing to me?" You bluntly asked.
"Well, no, but-" Gojo admitted, and you suddenly felt ill. The breakfast you'd barely been able to get down threatening to make a reappearance, but a hot lump formed in your throat, and you couldn't swallow it. Choking on the idiotic dreams you'd had of him actually coming to like you at all. "I, I read your letters and-"
"I apologize if my letters were an inconvenience on your time," You politely said, switching on your manners before you shouted obscenities at him.
"I read them," He insisted again, as if that made it much better.
"You have a meeting to go to. Don't let me keep you," You coldly replied, holding your head high and tossing the rest of the flower in the fountain. You should find your room anyway, collapse into a real bed to cry in.
"Can we talk for a few moments? I don't want to end-"
"Your Imperial Majesty," You curtly cut him off, brushing off your skirt to stand. "I have no interest in your pity."
"Could you give me a chance?" He stood up after you, but you refused to give him so much as a second glance.
Your letters didn't deserve a reply. Why should he get any answers now?
"What am I supposed to do?" Gojo groaned, head in his hands.
"Leave her alone?" Geto casually suggested, flipping through a newspaper and reclining back in an oversized armchair.
"She refuses to even speak to me at meals, ignores all the gifts I send her, I mean, what girl doesn't like flowers?"
"What do you want me to do?" Geto grunted.
"I dunno," Gojo shrugged, rubbing his eyes. He'd barely been sleeping, rereading your letters and struggling to understand why he was so stuck on whether or not you liked him.
It shouldn't matter.
It shouldn't bother him that you wanted nothing to do with him. It should make his life easier, really, one less person for him to pick from, one less person to disappoint.
Although he didn't really want to pick at all, desperate for another excuse to postpone the whole marriage charade.
"You'll be expected to dance with her at the banquet tomorrow night," Geto dryly muttered, probably just annoyed he'd also have to be in attendance too.
Gojo had been dragging him around everywhere he went, using him as a shield to keep the more forward women somewhat at bay. Most of them could be sorted in two groups. The ones that wanted what was under his clothes. And the ones that wanted what was on his head.
Mei Mei was the worst offender, making crude and cruel jokes disgusting by a glittering smile, always trying to threaten her way into the seat next to him, aiming for his throne next.
Money hungry and greedy in a way that gold still didn't fully suffice. She wanted everything.
Gojo would rather die than slip a ring on her finger, despite her influence on the other court ladies, despite her already substantial wealth and ties to some of the more powerful lords and merchants.
What power was theirs compared to his?
You stayed clear of the rest of the candidates, but Gojo kept dragging you back in to every event planned, your clipped voice and cold exterior only making him try harder to squeeze himself between the cracks in your armor.
Making a fool of himself by convincing the chefs to prepare cuisine from your kingdom just for you to politely decline and shut your bedroom door in his face. Consulting the gardener to get fresh cuttings for a bouquet of all the flowers you'd ever sent him, even rare strains from the conservatory, but you'd only grabbed the bundle before shutting the door on him again. Asking if you'd care to accompany him to tea when you bumped into each other in the hall just for you to decline.
He could probably count the number of real conversations you had on both hands, when you were stuck sitting next to him and he asked question after question, desperate for something he couldn't even name. Forgiveness? Your favor?
You were the most frustrating woman he'd ever met and he couldn't shake the feeling he wanted you to frustrate him for the rest of his life.
Every sharp sentence and pointed glare just dragged him deeper under your spell, pushing his head underwater just by rolling your eyes and scoffing his way, drowning in his own despair and desire.
"You think she'll let me?" Gojo murmured, sitting back down at his desk and pulling a clean sheet of paper from a drawer, snagging a pen.
"Probably not," Geto dismissed, grabbing a book from the shelf and heading for the door, only glancing back once before he pulled it open. "I wouldn't get your hopes up."
Gojo would just have to try anyway.
ᡴꪫ
You hated Satoru Gojo almost as much as you used to love him.
He was nothing like the letters. Not suave or smooth, no words layered with hidden meanings for you to unravel and savor. He didn't say all the right words or know what would soothe your hurt. In fact, everything he said was wrong.
Abrasive, blunt, cheeky, you could probably assign an adjective for every letter of the alphabet to him and still not run out of words. Even worse?
He was cute - in the most annoying way.
His persistence in persuing pestering you had started to grow on you, more like a mold than a flower. But still, you'd found yourself searching for him in the corner of every room, waiting for him to show up and slide into the seat next to you.
Asking an absurd amount of questions, always pinning his focus precisely on you like there'd be a quiz on your answers.
Every time you'd get close to having fun, you'd remember what you'd forgotten.
He could've asked you any of it in a letter.
So yeah, you loathed those pretty blue eyes that haunted your dreams, glittering and gleaming with freedom you'd never have. You could feel them on you even now, skimming over you with silent appraisal. Judging if you were up to his standards.
You hadn't been before, had you?
He had never bothered to put a pen to paper to personally write you back until now, a single sheet slipped under your door while you were getting ready for this insufferable banquet.
Save me a dance? - S
Was that the most he could muster?
You were such a fucking idiot for thinking someone like him would ever fall for someone like you.
"Mind if I join you?" A honeyed voice snapped your attention away from this evening's third glass of wine.
"Why not?" You shrugged your shoulders, glancing over to find the dark-haired man Gojo was usually with.
Was there something in the water here?
He was nearly as handsome as Gojo, just in a different way, his features sharper, more sweeping, his intense stare warm to disguise how calculating it really was, pretty lips curled up in a deceptively kind smile.
Still, your recognized him from the long hair alone. He was a Duke, a knight too if you recalled correctly, but really, it was his association with Gojo that had you so wary.
"I'm Suguru Geto," He introduced himself anyway, his eyes flickering down to your hand as he waited for you to offer it to him.
"I'm aware," You forced a tight-lipped smile, glancing around the room for some other empty corner to slink off too. Gojo was watching both of you, probably displeased that his friend was infringing on his favorite joke? Pastime?
You weren't positive what box Gojo had put you in.
But then Geto grabbed your hand anyway, gracefully bending down to kiss the back of it. Sturdy fingers pressing into your palm and soft lips on your skin as your cheeks flushed with heat.
"Is it alright if I confess I know you too?" You froze, still staring down at the gorgeous man holding your hand and grazing his lips over your skin, the rest of the room forgotten.
"You do?" You breathed, too unsure to even move.
"I was the one replying to your letters," He admitted, and the flicker in his eyes held a fire you'd never seen directed at you.
"Oh?" Your voice pitched a little too high, sounding more like a squeak than seductive.
He chuckled, standing up straight but not letting go of your hand. He stepped closer, and you noticed how tall he was, probably the same height as Gojo, hovering over you all broad and strong, his frame well-built from years of training.
His stare was too intense to meet, your eyes flickering away just to notice a white-hot glare directed your way. Or, well, his way.
Gojo's stare was glued to the two of you, obviously jealous and jaded in a way you hadn't conceived he might be capable of. A thrill ran up your spine, sucking in a shallow inhale as Geto's other hand found your waist.
"Would you care for a dance?"
Gojo was seething in silence.
He knew he was staring, he knew other people were probably staring at him. But he couldn't manage to tear his eyes away from you.
You looked almost ethereal, makeup and hair carefully styled by the maids he'd sent over, subtle and soft and glowing. You were wearing a gown he'd custom ordered last minute, a pretty shade of silver that was supposed to match the medals and pins adorning his own outfit. Meant to be a pair.
And yet, there you were, being swept off your feet by Geto, his hands on your waist and yours crossed around his neck. Grinning at something he was saying, having fun.
Jealousy tasted worse than he ever imagined.
Acidic and sour, unable to focus on the conversation surrounding him, too absorbed in the way your face lit up when you laughed.
He was approaching before the song even ended, pawning his drink off to a passing waiter, the crowd naturally parting for him until he approached you and your dance partner.
"I trust you're having fun?" Gojo greeted, putting on his best smile to hide the fact he was fuming inside. Geto's hand lingered on your back, just a little too low to be proper and polite.
"If I say yes, will you return to your harem?" Your smile was barbed with thorns, hurt and humiliation still burning under its surface.
"I'm a one-woman man," He protested with a pout. And sure, he had a bit of an, um, unsavory reputation for being a flirt, but he was technically still a virgin.
Having sex when just a single slip-up could carry repercussions for the rest of his reign was a bit of a turn-off.
"Oh, I'm sure you're much too busy to entertain women when you have someone else handling your matters for you," You coolly replied.
"Would you allow me to apologize to you properly then? Over a dance?" He asked, trying to ignore the way Geto stiffened, his fingers digging a little harder into your side. "Just one and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night."
"Fine," You relented, glancing up at Geto with a look he wished you'd give him instead. "Perhaps we can finish this conversation afterwards?"
"Of course, Your Highness," Geto murmured, clearly teasing judging by the way your lips curled up in a smile at the cheek tone he used your title.
Taking his place by your side, Gojo pulled you close, a hand on the your back as you reluctantly slipped your much smaller hander in his, wishing you weren't wearing gloves so he could feel the warmth of your palm.
You matched his steps, your focus always just past him, refusing to meet his eyes as he lead you through the dance.
"Sincerely, I am sorry, I should've just replied to your letters myself," He murmured, hoping you could hear it in his voice that he meant it. "I don't have an excuse."
"I shouldn't have expected you to write me back, I suppose," You sighed, swallowing hard.
"No, it's my fault," Gojo admitted. Sure, Geto usually read through his letters and decided what to pass on to him anyway, but still, he'd seen your name, had made the decision himself to let Geto take care of it.
"Am I supposed to beg to be your bride now that you've graced me with an apology?" You wryly said, and the way your lips curled up in the faintest smirk when you mocked him made his heart stall in his chest.
How was he supposed to say he was starting to consider begging you to be his bride?
"I wouldn't be entirely opposed," He tried to joke back just for you to stomp on his foot. It was worth the pain to see you smile.
"Oops," You shrugged, and he just squeezed your hand, pulling you in closer by your back before dipping you down low.
And fuck, he wished he could capture the enthralling expression on your face forever.
The way your lips parted in a surprised gasp, your eyes going wide and lashes fluttering while he held you. It felt like someone had knocked all the air out of his chest, unable to catch his breath when you looked at him like that.
"Mind if I cut in?" Mei Mei purred, grabbing his arm before Gojo had even brought you back up to your feet.
"Be my guest," You murmured, a little dazed as your gaze flickered from him to her. Resigned.
"Wait a moment," Gojo started, spit looking in the back of his mouth.
"Have a good night, Your Imperial Majesty."
"The song's not over yet," He pleaded, a hint of panic seeping in at the last few seconds he'd get to spend in your company this evening. Geto was watching with a drink in hand, an annoying smirk curled up on his lips. A snake waiting to strike.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
Would it be so bad for him to behead a bitch?
She just wouldn't stop talking, and that was coming from him.
"I really must return," Gojo interrupted her story, glancing around the deserted part of the garden Mei Mei had dragged him to. The moon was hanging high overhead, stars dusting the sky, thin clouds threatening to cover them up.
It was dull, really.
You were prettier.
Was this what falling in love felt like?
Finding you in the stars and in the flowers, a song that never left his head and made his heart ache, your laugh a melody stuck on loop in his mind.
"Is that so?" Mei Mei hummed, unamused.
He blinked, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. But she didn't leave.
"Has your mind already been made then? On our next Empress?" She slyly asked. Not on his bride, or his wife. Just who would get the title.
"Excuse me?" Gojo still feigned innocence.
"It's obvious who has your favor," Mei Mei simply said, a razored edge to her voice.
"I haven't made my decision," He shrugged, like it wasn't just because he was pretty sure you'd say no if he asked. His time was running out though, only a few days left until he was expected to make an announcement or extend everyone's stay.
"Well, I suggest you reconsider," Mei Mei chided, barely even bothering to disguise her threat. She disappeared down a path, not stomping, but clearly displeased.
Gojo ignored her, folding his arms and watching a cloud drift by lazily above, wispy but just enough to conceal the moon anyway.
Would you still be inside? Or had you slipped back to your room at the first opportunity?
He was planning on keeping his promise to you, but he'd prefer it if you stayed even if he could only stare from afar.
And would it be completely delusional to believe tonight was progress?
He glanced back up at the stars, thanking them silently for sending that headache of a woman away when he heard it.
Your laugh.
His head whipped around, searching before he spotted you. With Geto.
You were leaning back against the railing of a nearby balcony overhead, giggling at something he was saying to you, head tilted to the side as you nodded along.
Gojo wasn't really thinking, brain unfortunately utterly blank as he stepped closer.
"Does your silver tongue typically work on women?" You were teasing Geto.
"I've never tried," Geto purred back. Liar.
"Oh?" You didn't believe him either.
"Is it working on you?" He inquired, and Gojo wanted to shout or scream to stop the seconds from slipping by and your heart slipping away with them when he saw the smile on your face, the subtle way your stare drifted over his friend before you shrugged.
He wasn't sure how it happened, only catching Geto's mouth moving before your own parted, surprised and unsure before you hesitantly nodded. Then Geto was leaning in for a kiss, a calloused hand cupping your face and adjusting it just slightly so he could kiss you how he liked.
You kissed him back.
Gojo knew he should leave.
Pretend he hadn't seen a second of your private exchange.
But just as quickly as his lips were pressed to yours, they were ghosting down your throat, leaving a trail of delicate pecks as Geto's other hand hiked up your dress.
Getting down on his knees and holding your hips steady while he left love bites across your thighs, sharp teeth sinking into your soft flesh.
But Gojo's gaze had already shifted back to your face, the way you leaned your head back as your fingers sifted though his silky strands of black hair, tugging Geto closer when two of his own fingers hooked over the thin band of your pretty lace panties.
He almost wondered if Geto had anticipated an audience, set the stage with you as an unwitting performer, your eyes fluttering closed and a gorgeous gasp escaping when he did, in fact, prove just how effective his tongue could be.
Gojo dismissed the thought, dissolving back into the shadows as he forced himself to follow the nearest cobbled path as far away from this evening's show as possible.
It felt like a declaration of a cold war.
Who was Gojo to turn down a challenge?
Conceiving a new strategy was harder than he thought.
He's stayed up half the night creating plans just to crumple up the paper and toss it in the trash.
You were cold and considerate and could probably break his heart in a million different ways, but he was tempted to just glue it back together for you to break again.
Eventually, he'd requested for Geto to come to his room the next morning, halfway debating dropping hints that he'd seen his risque rendezvous before deciding to just pretend he was oblivious to whatever was brewing between the two of you.
"You called?" Geto murmured.
Gojo fixed his own shirt collar and noted his friend's reflection in the mirror, the long, dark hair tied off his neck in a low ponytail, bangs sticking to his forehead and uniform wrinkled from wear.
"Would you mind arranging breakfast with her?" He heard himself ask, knowing he didn't need to specify who and studying Geto's expression in the mirror, the drop of hostility that disappeared just as quickly as it flashed over his face. "In the conservatory?"
"I'll go by her room and request she join you," He nodded, a sharp jerk of his head. Sweat was still sticking his bangs to his forehead, worn from an early-morning training session Gojo had missed.
Geto left before Gojo could ask for anything else.
Was it jealousy?
Did he just not want Geto to take something he thought was his?
He almost wished it was, almost wished he could pin the blame and point a finger at some shitty side of himself for the growing feelings stirring in his chest.
It was need.
The pathetic kind that festered on his denial, that grew more the harder he fought it.
He'd been handed everything his whole life, and you were the first he was painfully aware he'd never deserve.
He had a chance and fucked it up.
You weren't exactly the most forgiving type.
Wouldn't bend to his will or beg him for affection. And for some bizarre reason, it just made him crave yours all the more.
He had a feeling even if you did show him an ounce of it, if he was actually lucky enough to be showered in your adoration, he'd be still chasing you for more until he was bones, buried somewhere and probably bound to follow you even into the next life.
Gojo found himself double and triple checking the plates and utensils in the conservatory, rearranging the placemats and adjusting muffins on trays to stop himself from anxiously glancing over to the entrance every five seconds.
Did you decline?
Feign an illness or fake an accident just to avoid him more?
When the doors finally opened, it wasn't you. It wasn't even Geto.
A panicked cluster of his staff and a few guards, hurrying over to him with nervous expressions. He spotted Nanami amidst all the chaos, a deep crease between his brows as he bypassed the rest of his companions.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Nanami coldly greeted with a small bow. "There seems to be an issue."
"What kind?" Gojo was grinding his teeth, icy dread seeping into his blood, veins freezing over while he examined the panic in everyone's eyes.
"It seems the princess is not in her room this morning," Nanami bluntly said.
"Or in the palace," One of the guards nervously added.
"I don't understand," He simply said. "Where is she?"
"W-we're not sure, Your Imperial Majesty, we've searched and-"
"Search again," Gojo commanded.
You couldn't be missing. You promised him. Okay, perhaps not promise. But you said you'd see him tomorrow. And it was tomorrow. You were probably curled up in a hidden nook of the library, or perhaps taking an early morning nap in some unused corner of the garden. Fuck, he'd even rather you be sleeping in under Geto's sheets than just gone.
They just weren't searching hard enough, right?
ᡴꪫ
The rest of the world was dark.
You tried to move, but your hands were tied behind your back, ankles ensnared together and after a few panicked seconds, you realized that there must be some kind of blindfold covering your eyes too.
The harder you tried to wiggle out, the tighter the bindings felt, and a fresh wave of terror immobilized you. If you screamed, would someone here and come to save you? Or would it bring whoever kidnapped you back?
Fear for the latter forced you to freeze, only subtly feeling around for anything nearby once you realized you were laying on your side on something soft. You tried to roll over, but you only dropped down to land on the cold wooden floor of what you guessed was a cabin, hitting your cheek hard on the solid ground.
Your memory was hazy. There was the banquet, dancing with Gojo before Geto walked you back to your room and dragged you out to the balcony. His hands on your body and his warm mouth dancing over your skin. But he'd kissed your forehead good night after it was over, suggesting you sleep well before and leaving while the moon was still high. Afterwards, you vaguely recalled getting ready for bed, changing and drinking a cup of tea before last night? Two nights ago?
It wasn't like you had any way to know how much time had passed.
You were a unfortunately starving though, throat parched and lips cracked.
Would anyone bother looking for you?
Satoru was probably busy picking his future bride, a position you'd been a fool to think you could ever fill. You barely knew Suguru, despite the letters and the longing you'd felt in his stare. Not nearly enough to come to your rescue and risk himself.
If it was about a ransom, your family wouldn't pay it.
Winter would be there soon, and feeding the mouths of many were more important than the life of one. You weren't an exception.
You didn't know how long you laid there, listening out for the slightest sounds and trying to make judgments of where you could be and why they'd even bother taking you.
"Should we feed her?" A guy grumbled, his voice muffled and hardly audible, separated by at least a wall.
"No," A woman's huff, haughty and irritated.
"But what if-"
"He's going to make the announcement tonight. He can't delay it any longer," She condescendingly scolded, and the voice clicked. One of the other candidates. Mei Mei. Just another misfortune in your life with Gojo to blame at the helm. "We'll let her go afterwards."
"A-alright," The guy probably responsible for guarding you grunted.
"Just dump her somewhere she'll be found after midnight," Mei Mei instructed, and then there was the sound of heels clicking, a neigh of a horse in the distance, a carriage probably waiting to return her to the palace.
They wouldn't bother investigating if you were recovered safely after all. No point wasting resources on a poor princess who'd be leaving without a ring soon.
Just so Mei Mei could claim her new crown.
A burning stake of indignation stabbed through you. She'd gone through the trouble of kidnapping you for what? As if Gojo would've ever actually chosen you.
All you'd shared was a handful of awkward conversations and a slow dance.
You couldn't decide what you thought of this current hin. His easy smiles and burning eyes. The way he wore everything he felt on his face when he was around you, like he was just as conflicted as you.
Who was he really? A spoiled man who thought a sorry could did everything? Or was there sincerely in those pink lips?
You supposed it didn't matter.
He wouldn't come for you.
"I'm not announcing shit," Gojo growled, ripping up the fourth letter slid under the crack in his door in the past thirty minutes from impatient advisors and worried maids about whether or not they needed to set up the ceremony hall.
"It's unfortunate, but-"
"Unfortunate?" He scoffed, interrupting Geto mid-sentence. "She's clearly been kidnapped."
"And she'll be returned," Geto calmly explained. "It has to be someone associated with one of the other candidates. Mei Mei would be my guess."
"So let's arrest her," Gojo whined, boots squeaking as he paced the floor.
It'd been three days.
Three long days of looking everywhere, organizing searches and setting up shifts to find you. Rumors had started to spread that perhaps you'd run away, hiding somewhere and pretending to be a peasant just so you didn't have to marry him.
Gojo refused to believe that. Not when there was the slightest sliver of a possibility you needed his help somewhere.
"What if she decides to get rid of the evidence then?" Geto argued, attempting to be the voice of reason while Gojo's panic ran free.
Would Mei Mei get rid of you?
She was clearly fucking crazy enough to kidnap you.
"What do you suggest then?" Gojo grunted, struggling to reign himself in, to keep himself collected enough to have the same objectivity.
"Proceed with the announcement as planned," Geto murmured. "They'll probably leave her for us to find at some village or town close to wherever they're hiding her at. Just pretend you don't know anything and we can arrest Mei Mei for her part in it once we have proof."
Gojo guessed it made sense if Geto's suspicions about their motives were correct. It would give him a reason to re-do this whole fucked up charade of choosing a wife. Give him a second chance to prove he was going to pick you. To convince you he cared.
He still felt absolutely useless now though.
What good was power if he couldn't use it to keep even just one person safe?
"What if they don't?" His strong shell was cracking, broken bits and jagged edges revealed with every frustrated word.
"I'll keep looking for her anyway," Geto reassured.
It didn't make him feel better.
It was stupid and selfish, but Gojo wanted to be your hero for once, play the knight who swept in at the last minute to save you from someone evil. Show that he could love you too - if you just let him.
"Go look," Gojo muttered, running his fingers through his hair and swallowing hard, the regret growing roots in his guts already.
He might not be the man of your dreams today.
But he was a better one than yesterday. Learning to be the kind of guy who'd let someone else take the spotlight if it meant you'd be safe.
To know you're okay.
And maybe?
He still had a chance to be yours someday.
ᡴꪫ
You never actually expected to be rescued.
Or, at least, you hoped that's what the commotion was outside. Swords clanging and the gross sound of squelching through the door before it swung open with a creak, banging into the wall as the floorboards groaned.
You flinched and something sharp grazed against your skin. But then you felt warmth, a large hand grabbing your arm before you heard him.
"Stay still for me," Geto murmured, holding you in place while he cut off all your bindings. You tried not to move, relief flooding through you once all your limbs were once again free, and he tugged the blindfold off.
It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light, blinking as he helped you to your feet just for them to collapse from underneath you. He hurried to remove his cloak, covering up your torn and tattered nightdress with it with a quiet chuckle, picking you up and cradling you against his warm body once he sheathed his blood-stained sword.
"Sorry it took so long," He hm-ed, his voice honey in your eyes, soothing over your injuries and soaking into your skin.
You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing would come out, your throat too sore to form words. He pulled out a leather waterskin with his free hand, unscrewing the top and bringing it to your lips.
You only managed a few short sips, just enough to dull the ache before he brought it back down to his belt.
There were other voices, men you couldn't see, talking amongst themselves, fellow knights you guessed. Your heart felt a little strange at the thought Gojo had actually sent more than one person to search for you - that he hadn't just given up.
Or was it all Geto's doing?
"We have to head back now," He murmured, brushing your hair away from your face with a soft sigh. "We're running a little late."
Late for what, exactly?
"No," You managed, shaking your head and clinging to his shirt harder. What would await you there next? Being dragged to the altar? Or forced to watch Gojo announce he belonged to someone else?
"No?" Geto echoed, amusement reflecting in his dark eyes.
"Can't we go somewhere else?" You croaked, voice cracking every couple words. "Your estate?"
Would that be considered a scandal? One of the Empress candidates ditching Gojo for a Duke instead?
You wanted to believe that maybe that wouldn't be so bad. You'd be safe. Secure.
He wouldn't make your stomach flip or your heart ache. Wouldn't weigh on your soul the way Gojo did, wouldn't claw his way into each waking thought no matter how many times you scratched him out.
A quiet love that grew over time. One you could live with.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," Geto slyly said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I'll take care of you."
"I'm glad you came to your senses."
Gojo was just glad he'd be able to throw Mei Mei in a cell and toss the key down a drain in two hours.
But first?
He just had to make it through this fake announcement, plastering on a polite smile and put on a show in front of his people to promise he'd found their next Empress.
Even if standing next to someone who made him sick.
Mei Mei kept edging closer, leaning down to probably murmur another mocking assessment of the situation before the wide double doors swung open to the ceremony hall, whispering and gasps erupting from the crowd as everyone turned around.
Seeing you in Geto's arms with another woman clinging to his was a kind of cruelty Gojo had never known.
The way your cheek was pressed against Geto's chest, fingers holding onto his shirt like he was your savior made Gojo's breath hitch in his throat. He was halfway down the first steps when his fake bride-to-be grabbed his sleeve to stop him.
Your wrists were raw, you lips parched, a bruise on your cheek making it apparent to anyone with eyes you hadn't just run away. A cloak draped over you like you were in something indecent under it, hopefully just a nightgown instead of something worse.
"Are you ok-"
"Don't come closer," Geto called out, and there was the soft clink of someone reading for their sword. It wasn't him, but the guards by his side.
"What?" Gojo almost laughed, blinking hard like he was waiting to get the joke.
He was flanked before Geto even got to the punchline.
"You're under arrest for treason," He coldly answered, and Gojo was too stunned to put up a fight when they put him in heavy iron cuffs.
How the fuck could he commit treason?
He was the emperor, the sun and the stars and the sky. He supposed he'd failed to consider it meant little if he didn't have support, if the pillars upholding him crumbled and cracked.
The sky had fallen. His luck has run dry.
"For the murder of your father, the previous Emperor, as well as-" Geto listed names like a death sentence, family members he'd never spared a second thought for when they passed, all accidents or early illnesses he hadn't even considered suspicious.
His most trusted advisor, his closest friend, was fucking framing him.
Had he been set up from to start?
Chained up like some animal while Geto delivered the charges stony-faced with you clutching his clothes and watching the scene unfold. Mei Mei was being cuffed too behind him, read off her own offenses for orchestrating your kidnapping. Or had that been apart of Geto's plan too?
This wasn't a mistake or misunderstanding.
This was a coup.
Judging by the hurt in your eyes, the pretty part of your lips as you stared at him in disbelief, you were just as confused and clueless as him.
He'd forgotten happy endings were typically reserved for children reading fairytales.
He wasn't prince charming. Wasn't the guy who got the girl.
Was it even destiny or was Gojo was just damned to be the villain in your story.
ᡴꪫ
Something was wrong.
A certain heaviness in the air, the strained looks cast your way every time Suguru took you somewhere new, a bakery to buy you fresh pastries or the seamstress designing your wedding gown. Somber and grim, like they knew a secret you didn't.
Gojo had ruled with strength, sincerity.
People were just scared of Suguru.
You supposed your rushed marriage was a sign in itself, the diamond on your finger a collar of a different size. Getting married in a month was fast even by royal standards.
But Suguru insisted. It was important to seal the union between your family's kingdom and the already oversized empire he'd stolen from under Gojo's nose.
Stolen wasn't the correct word, you guessed.
But that's what it felt like, didn't it?
Blindsided and burned by his most trusted ally and dragged to the dungeon to wait for a trial that kept getting delayed.
The accusations were hard to accept.
The idea that the same guy who showed up to your door with big bouquets and offered to share his dessert with you during meals, asking approximately a hundred times if everything was to your taste, desperate for the smallest bit of approval could also be a stone-cold murderer? Serial killer if what Suguru was saying was true?
You couldn't picture him poisoning his own father.
Setting up hunting accidents or pushing someone off a high ledge.
But what else were you supposed to believe when Suguru had suggested marriage just two days after they locked Gojo up? Swearing it was for the stability and safety of both of your people. Promising that he'd loved you long before he met you. That somewhere in between all those letters he'd been longing for you all this time.
But the weeks had only brought growing unease about the entire situation, walking into hushed conversations and asking questions just to get shut up with firm kisses and a hand up your dress.
So you kept your suspicions to yourself.
Let him show you off and concealed your thoughts in your letters back home to a family whose only replies concerned how your future would benefit theirs.
"You're distracted," Suguru commented, peppering kisses across your collarbone while you stared at the window of what you supposed was previously Gojo's office.
"Just a little strange, I guess, everything moving so quickly," You absentmindedly replied, gasping when his canines scraped suddenly against the thin skin over your tendons.
"It'll settle down soon," He reassured, the hand on your back pulling you closer, readjusting your position on his lap.
You just weren't sure if you'd like what you'd find after the dust settled.
Someone knocked.
Quick and quiet, waiting for Suguru to call back out before coming in. You recognized the man, Nanami, the same one from the first day you arrived, but the most you'd seen him since was nose-deep in paperwork, always someplace to be and something to do.
"My apologies for interrupting," He stoically delivered the words, deliberately avoiding addressing Suguru since his title had yet to be changed.
The coronation wasn't scheduled until after your marriage.
"It's fine," Suguru murmured, dismissively waving his other hand while the other discreetly slipped lower down to your thigh.
"Do you have the documentation and ledgers for the trial?" Nanami asked, removing his glasses and cleaning the lenses off on his clean and tidy shirt, pushing them back up his nose with a bored expression.
"Sure," Suguru muttered, pulling out a drawer to grab a short stack of papers, all bearing the same name.
Satoru Gojo.
"Evidence of him purchasing the herbs he used on his father," Suguru tsk-ed, sliding them across the desk to Nanami.
Your stomach churned. There was just one small problem.
The signature was one you recognized well. You spent years memorizing it after all.
So you could say for certain it didn't match the only note the real Satoru Gojo had ever left you.
ᡴꪫ
The dungeon was cold, the stone floor freezing as you hurried to pad over as silently as you could to the cell at the end. You guessed you only had about five minutes before the guards would return from the change in rotation.
Iron-wrought bars stretched from the floor to the ceiling, only a small window allowing a sliver of moonlight in, a cruel reminder of the outside he couldn't reach.
This was an awful idea.
One you might even be risking your life for.
But wasn't Gojo's on the line already?
"Am I lucky enough to get a good night kiss, angel? Or is it goodbye?" Gojo wryly teased once he saw you through the dark, his sense of humor unfortunately still in tact. It was bitter, the sound of a man that'd been betrayed.
"Quiet," You hissed, glancing over your shoulder down the corridor. "I'm not supposed to be here."
Suguru might be looking for you already.
You'd excused yourself from dinner early, feigning a headache and pretending to sleep through the three different maids periodically peeking in to check on you before you guessed he believed you really did feel ill. But who knows if he'd still send another? Suguru was the only person more paranoid than you.
It was getting increasingly more difficult to act normal around him. What if you were apart of some plan or next on his list?
He clearly had no problems deceiving you.
Honestly, the longer you thought about it, the more you found wrong with him. How he'd taken over Gojo's life so seamlessly. How convenient it was for him to find you right on time to make his grand entrance. How rumors had started spreading that he'd taken Mei Mei's tongue just so she couldn't even confirm if he had any part in the scheme.
"Yeah?" Gojo chuckled, softer now, pushing off the grimy ground to stand, his hands still cuffed and a heavy collar around his throat chained to the wall. Not even afforded the smallest freedom here. They knew he wasn't going to escape. It was about humiliating him. Shrinking him down to some humble size. He managed to take a few steps closer, stopping just short of the bars between you. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company then?"
"Are they feeding you?" You whispered.
"Occasionally."
You tugged out the loaf hidden inside your cloak, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you hesitantly stuck your hand through the slats, stretching your arm so the tip was grazing against his lips. You had to sneak into the kitchen to steal it, a few candies you'd been saving also tucked into your pocket.
"You must be hungry then," You mumbled, refusing to meet his eye as he took the first few nibbles.
"Why'd you come?" He grunted through hungry bites, and you could feel the way those brilliant eyes sized you up, refusing to dull even after who knows how long without food.
They were treating him like a feral mutt, something that'd snap his jaws around your throat if released. But he looked more like a puppy like this, tilting his head the side and eating out of your hand. If only his collar was lined with gems instead of made from heavy metal.
"You didn't do any of it, did you?" You asked, even if just forming the words felt like a betrayal to Suguru.
"My only crime was trusting my, ah, your friend," He corrected himself with a huff, like his attitude could hide how much he was hurting. Bruises littered his face, his fancy outfit filthy. "Or is he your fiancé now?"
You didn't answer, but his eyes flickered down the the engagement ring perched on your finger.
He made a noise, half a grunt and half a laugh.
"Of course."
"I don't think I have much choice in the matter," You excused. You hadn't wanted to believe that at first, but the past couple days had you considering how much of your control was just a carefully crafted illusion.
What would Suguru have done if you said no to him? If you insisted on going back home?
You swallowed hard, meeting Gojo's sharp stare, squinting at you with more sadness than suspicion.
"You should leave," He finally said, as if he was telling you to take the last life jacket on a sinking ship. Trying to convince you to save yourself.
"I have a duty," You murmured, unsure of what it even meant anymore. Raised to rule correctly, to be just and fair in all matters. To put everyone else before yourself.
It wasn't a risk of Suguru retaliating if he discovered your deception - it would be a reality. For all you knew, you could be locked up right next to Gojo just for being here.
But for some stupid reason, you just couldn't let this go.
Couldn't stay silent while Suguru condemned him to death or a miserable life locked in a cage.
"You don't. Not to me," Gojo frowned, ignoring the rest of the bread. Freeing you from the burden of his fate. "So go. Get as far away from him as possible."
You wished you could.
"I'm going to get you out of here," You promised, hating yourself for giving him hope you were hardly confident in. You tucked the bread back under your arm, snagging one of the sweet candies from your pocket and unwrapping the shiny gold paper.
"I won't hold you to that," He chuckled, his voice raspy.
The man you thought he was didn't exist anymore. Maybe never had.
Even here, he was hellbent on making you second guess and get stuck on every word that left his lips.
So you pressed the candy to them instead and they partied for you naturally, letting you place the drop on his tongue. His lips were probably soft before, now cracked as they grazed over your fingertips.
Funny how it felt like a kiss.
Funnier how you were thinking about it still sneaking back into bed an hour later, carefully hanging your coat back up and hiding the last of the bread to discard later.
You had to come up with an excuse to scribble on a note to Suguru the next morning, claiming to need a few final addresses for wedding invitations to approach the one man you suspected could assist you.
He certainly hadn't expected you, the only evidence you had hidden in your dress when you stepped into his office.
"I need your help."
Your promise lingered in his brain like the taste of candy on his tongue.
Really, you owed him nothing. No kindness. No assistance.
You were risking everything. Your kingdom, your chance at being Empress, even your own life just to help him.
The fact you didn't expect anything from him made it worse.
No debt you wanted him to owe or reward to be received.
Was that what the duty you spoke of was? To do the right thing at the cost of yourself? Why were you so willing to pay it?
Waiting in the dark and the grime with no distractions. His only company the guard dropping by once in the morning to release his cuffs and offer his lone meal for the day and the second one in the evenings coming back to bind his hands again.
They never removed the collar.
All the old wounds of people passing ripped open again. The harsh truth of being left and only that had scarred over his heart split open and needing new stitches.
He understood why Geto did it. For the power. The control. Having the world at his whim and word.
Gojo just didn't understand how he could do it to him.
Geto had helped him plan the funerals, easing the burden and bringing him food when he forgot to eat, promising to handle the paperwork and take some of the pressure off of him. Knowing damn well what really happened.
Now he was mourning all the lives lost - including his own.
The pale light from the window cut into the stone to mark the passage of time, but it only reminded him of his miserable conditions more.
The barren cot and blank walls, the toilet in the corner for him to use. Nothing to compare to his lavish bedroom just a few floors away.
Was Geto using the suite now? Taking you to his bed, your plush thighs pushed to your chest and your dress discarded on the thick rug or wooden floor somewhere? Hair splayed out across the silk sheets as your head tilted back on his pillows, letting out some lewd moan?
God, he'd rather just get executed now if that was the case.
Days passed without your return, occupied only by the thought of your face, the way you smiled at him, just that once, the crinkle by your eyes when you laughed after you stepped on his toes.
Another morning had come.
Today's guard was particularly smug, a crude grin on his scarred face when he barked orders at him to turn around so he could remove his cuffs.
Except, the second the heavy weight fell away, his left ring finger was grabbed, and in two short seconds crushed, a sick snap echoing in the small chamber. A gutteral sound escaped Gojo, strangled and pained.
"Big day," The guard mocked, letting go and walking away without another word.
For a second, he wondered if this was it. If they had bypassed a trial entirely and he'd been sentenced to his death without a second thought. But then he looked down at his hand, clutching his broken finger as he bitterly realized what the brute was hinting at.
He didn't want to believe it.
But the movement over his head, the busy bodies and voices filtering through the ceiling from the floor only reinforced the idea.
A royal wedding.
Geto was going to marry you.
Take his place in every way possible.
Tighten your leash too, pin your fate to his to prevent you from coming to Gojo's rescue.
The hope he'd been holding onto had faded, only left with the heartache of knowing he was stuck. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go.
Trapped in a stone tomb.
He wasn't sure how long he stood. Lead limbed and broken in more places he could count. But the ache in his heart was all you.
Trying to imagine what how you felt. If you were wearing a white dress. How a tiara would look sitting pretty nestled on top of your hair. Or maybe a custom crown made to match the one he used to wear.
If he was granted a final wish, he hoped it'd be your forgiveness, or maybe that goodbye kiss.
Footsteps approached, and he wondered if the guard had come back to break another finger. And honestly, he was thinking about just letting him if it meant his mind would be torn away from thinking about you.
But the man in front of him removed his polished silver helmet to reveal the last person he expected.
Who would've guessed Nanami would be his knight in shining armor?
"Shut up," The blond preemptively scoffed before Gojo could get a joke out, key in hand as he hurried to unlock the heavy door, careful to push it open slowly so it wouldn't creak.
"Where is she?" Gojo hoarsely asked, throat sore and aching from the limited water he'd been living on lately.
"Getting married," Nanami muttered, brows drawn together in a deep scowl as he flipped through his keys for the right one to unlock the collar around Gojo's throat, the skin rough and raw when he finally yanked it off.
"Over my dead body," Gojo gritted his teeth, as Nanami removed his armor as quickly as possible, passing him pieces for him to quickly get dressed in. A clever disguise to get out of here unnoticed.
"Geto would certainly prefer that," Nanami sarcastically sighed as Gojo tugged on the silver helmet at the end.
"What's the plan?" Gojo asked, out-of-breath already, his body not used to the exertion.
"Remind the people who their real emperor is," His former secretary tsk-ed, as if it should be obvious to him. "I'll handle the proof."
Sneaking out was easier than he expected, the guard that was supposed to on-duty passed out drunk when they walked by. Gojo guessed Nanami had somehow slipped sleeping pills in his bottle.
Gojo stole his sword and sheath as he stepped over him.
His finger ached, swelling up under his glove. But he gripped the handle tighter, refusing to switch it to the other hand if not for his own proof of the pain Geto so casually inflicted.
He only sheathed it after Nanami brought up it might blow their cover.
Nanami led him through corridors he hadn't even been in before, back hallways that connected and bypassed the heavily-traveled ones, but the chatter kept growing closer as they approached the ceremony hall.
Were you already in there? Had you walked down the aisle? Was Geto's hand in yours just waiting for you to say your vows? To bind your soul to his?
"Can you walk faster?" Gojo impatiently huffed, jaw clenched.
What if they didn't make it in time?
What if-?
They made it to the an open door, Nanami giving the guard by the side entrance a curt nod as they found a gap just big enough in the knight's scattered formation for them not to stand out.
The priest was going on a long drone about commitment, consideration, the connection between hearts in love. Gojo wasn't sure if Geto even had a heart anymore.
His sharp blue eyes focused on you, drowning in your wedding dress, the corset cinched too tight on purpose to push your chest up, the skirt a ridiculous pouf of fabric below the waist, covered in a shimmery fabric that glittered every time you moved.
Something to distract the crowd from noticing your face, your forced smile painted pink and the eyeliner and mascara smudged around your tear line like you'd been crying.
You were still the most beautiful bride he'd ever seen, his chest straining and heart jumping into his throat to choke up his breathing.
"If anyone objects to this union, speak-"
"I object," Gojo stepped forward without a second thought, his focus solely on you, watching your eyes widen the second they met his.
"Satoru," You breathed his name, shaky and sincere and hopeful.
"How the fuck is he here?" Geto hissed to the closet knight, stepping in front of you to block your body from his sight.
You pulled away from him, trying to rush past him but his arm caught you by your waist, pulling you back into his chest. Gojo was moving forward on instinct, panic surging through him at the sight of Geto putting his hands on you, only hesitating to draw the sword in case he might hurt you. But you hurt Geto first, elbowing him just hard enough to catch him by surprise and slipping away before he could catch you again.
Your heels were giving you trouble, nearly stumbling as you tried to slip between the confused crowd, already whispering between themselves as the slow realization started to set in at who was under the helmet.
Gojo met you halfway, a hand protectively pulling you up, but you were clinging to his armor the second you were close enough.
Whatever happened, you were in this together.
Gojo took off his helmet, tossing it to the ground, a collective gasp breaking out at the disgraced former emperor wedding crashing.
"You murdered my family, framed me, and now what? Trying to marry my lady?" You would probably slap him for that last line later, but it made the impression he wanted in the audience, redirecting all the suspicious stares back to the man left at the alter.
"You're pathetic," Geto cooly dismissed, glancing back to the knights guarding the doors he'd just came in through. "Seize him. Careful with the princess, it looks like the former emperor has used some kind of witchcraft to convince her of his lies."
Feeding into the hysteria of magic and conspiracy with a slimy lie, coming up with whatever excuse he needed to get Gojo back in jail and you back under his thumb.
But Nanami stepped out of the shadows, pulling out a stack of papers and a slip of a note.
The knights approaching hesitated, unsure if they should really follow Geto's command. Nanami was intimidating in a different sort of way - commandeering a certain respect an authority without trying.
"Arrest the Duke. More evidence has surfaced to suggest he's the suspect behind the crimes we're currently investigating," He somberly instructed, gesturing to Geto. "The signatures on the documents he provided were forgeries."
"You know me," Geto called out to you, not really a plea, but like he wanted you to understand. Like he wanted you to think this was for you.
"I don't think so," You swallowed hard, and you were physically shaking next to him.
"He's not what you need," Geto's voice was harder this time, shrugging off the few knights that had dared to approach him.
It happened in just a few seconds.
His former best friend stealing a sword from the closest knight, the silver catching the sunlight streaming in from the grand stained windows, and then coming down swiftly.
Gojo was just faster.
Stepping in front to shield you, drawing the sword and meeting Geto's with a loud clash. The crowd was scattering back, a few surprised shouts and screams echoing in the large hall.
His muscles screamed at the extension, underworked and starved for weeks. But the idea of losing was inconceivable.
Geto had already embarrassed him enough in front of you.
The second swipe of Geto's sword nearly landed, narrowly avoiding getting skewered at the last second, pushing you back enough to land in an annoyed Nanami's arms.
Gojo sucked in a sharp breath, steadying himself and getting ready to strike just for something to smack Geto in the face, a heel clattering to the floor by his feet.
You had thrown your fucking shoe at him.
Gojo seized the opportunity, the single second Geto was still stunned to knock his sword hard enough to send it skittering to the floor out of reach.
The knights hurried to grab him, no handcuffs prepared this time, one taking each arm as they took Nanami's word for it.
Geto didn't say anything.
No big proclamation or sudden profession. Just held his stare, not sorry in the slightest as they lead him down the same path Gojo walked a month before. Down to the recesses of the dungeon.
His only regret was probably not covering his tracks properly.
Thinking you were the type of girl who cared about wearing the crown in the first place.
Gojo wasn't sure which domino fell next.
Tossing his sword. The people surrounding him. The cheers. Crying that they'd never believed the lies as if he hadn't been there when they stayed silent.
But it was still his people. The ones he'd been born to protect and serve until his last breath.
He tried to smile, wave his hand that every swivel of his wrist didn't send sharp pains up to his broken finger, laughed and grinned like he was happy to be back.
But when he turned, he only caught a glimpse of your dress, the glitter of it and your hobble as you hurried into the hall.
It seemed chasing after you had become second nature.
"Wait," He called out, forcing his way between people, rushing to get to you before you could disappear out of sight.
He could've grabbed your hand again, but simply?
Gojo was too excited.
Once you were withing reach, he was grabbing you and pulling you into an almost crushing hug, squeezing your waist and burying his face into your hair.
"Thank you," He murmured, sharp nose nuzzling against your neck without meaning to, mostly just trying to stop himself from sniffling.
He half expected you to shove him off, to scoff and dismiss it as your duty again.
Bur you hugged him back, arms tentatively wrapping around him.
"You smell awful."
ᡴꪫ
His bath, however, smelled like sugar and roses.
You shouldn't know that. Yet, you stayed anyway.
Let Gojo lead you back to his chambers, insisting he needed the company and didn't want anyone else. You just didn't want to admit you didn't want to leave him either.
A maid delivered fresh clothes at his request, laying them out neatly on the bed after promising to be discreet when all three of you knew the rest of the palace would know by the end of the day.
He unlaced your wedding dress for you, a nervous flutter in your stomach at how nimbly he freed you from the too-tight corset. You still shoved him in the bathroom so you could finish stripping, a heap of shimmering fabric left on the floor as you traded it in for an almost as embarrassing gown that looked more like lingerie.
Anxious, you knocked on the door to the bathroom, leaning in to listen to the sound of running water.
"I'm finished, um, Gojo?" You weren't sure what to call him now. He would have to be coronated after getting stripped from his role. Did that make him a prince again?
"I like it when you call me Satoru," He hummed inside.
"Well, Satoru, should I fetch food, or perhaps a doctor for you?" You chewed on the inside of your lap, looking around for something to cover yourself up if you were going to leave the room.
Everything was rich and warm in here, funny little glass animals on shelves and expensive tapestries on the wall. His huge four poster bed carved with intricate woodwork, silk sheets and luxurious blankets spread over it. Well-worn and well-loved.
What would your life be like, you wondered, if it'd always been him from the start?
"Could you come in first? I can't reach the soap," He called out.
You pushed the door open, peeking inside shyly to find him already submerged in the tub, water up to his chest and bubbles concealing everything underneath. He shut off the faucet, another reminder of just how wealthy he was to have one of the few rooms with heated water in the whole estate.
His head was reclined back on the porcelain rim of the tub, white hair freshly washed. His face still had a few flecks of dirt on it, his cheeks and jaw far sharper than they'd been a few weeks ago, and still, he was so handsome it hurt. But it was the raw skin where the collar had rested that caught your attention, the once smooth complexion pink and irritated.
He turned to look over, cracking open a single eye just to freeze and immediately open both when he saw what you were wearing. Another day you probably would've laughed at how hard the lump in his throat bobbed before he tried to pull his charming mask back on.
"Are you just going to stare?" He teased, throwing a frustratingly cute lopsided smirk over at you. "I don't mind, I mean, I'm flattered-"
"Does it hurt?" You blurted out, your hand returning to your own neck as if you could feel it. But that just reminded you of the engagement ring still on your finger, and you hurried to take it off, embarrassment pricking at it as you glanced at the diamonds glittering in your palm.
"I'm fine," Gojo said, soft now, blue eyes narrowed as he watched you with concern. "Are you?"
"Yeah."
Perhaps you were both just liars.
You left the engagement ring on the sink, half hoping it'd fall down the drain before grabbing the soap and the basket of washcloths from the wall. Getting down on your knees next to the bath and looking to him for permission he gave you with a surprised nod.
Damping a washcloth before scrubbing his smooth skin, weeks of grime washing off with a little work. He closed his eyes, letting you gently get him clean again, humming a song you'd never heard before.
He'd lifted his hand up, about to comb through his hair with his fingers when you noticed one crooked and swollen. A choked-up gasp escaped you, surprised at his injury.
"Hey, don't worry," He soothed, wiggling it even though it made him wince. "I'll get the doctor to set it when I get out, okay?"
You let him comfort you. Let him tell you stupid stories so you could remember what it felt like to laugh. Let him hold your hand and squeeze softly to remind you where you were.
It was nice.
This small comfort, this idea of intimacy where you didn't need to speak or ramble to know you were appreciated. The closeness in knowing he'd protect you - and you'd do the same for him.
Maybe he'd write you back when you left this time.
ᡴꪫ
Satoru insisted you stay another month.
You obliged him. You weren't even sure why. What would you have to go back to now anyway?
A family who never bothered to write now that you wouldn't be Empress? Wouldn't have a husband with the kind of power or connections they want?
Maybe you could find a quiet cottage somewhere warm - somewhere you'd just have a piece of land and a serene place to sleep. It sounded a little unfulfilling, a far cry from the dreams you once again deemed out-of-reach.
But you guessed it was better than being unwanted.
The world's most gracious host has given you a frankly absurd amount of gifts anyway, more dresses and jewelry than you could pack or even conceivably wear. If you sold enough, you could certainly scrounge up the funds you'd need for it.
He was too busy to notice, buried under a mountain of paperwork and planning to reinstate himself as emperor, juggling duties he'd previously neglected on top of settling the trail with Suguru. You hadn't seen the sentencing. Hadn't asked.
Only written out your testimony against him, claiming it'd be too much for you to be in the same room as him.
Satoru was quick to put his seal on that document, apparently as anxious as you were about you seeing Suguru again.
His finger was still crooked. Might be forever. You'd accompanied him to his last doctor's appointment where they'd suggested breaking it again to try setting it again. Gojo declined.
His throat had mostly healed, faint scars left that he'd been hiding under high collars or cloaks unless he was with you.
Gojo always stopped his paperwork to search for you at least once or twice a day, hunting you down in the library or gardens or convincing you to have to take a break and have tea with him.
No bugs this time.
He'd sneak into bed with you at night sometimes, too late for any nosy attendants to pay attention, rubbing his tired eyes and murmuring about nightmares before he clambered under the blankets next to you.
It was stupid to allow him in. When he made your heart stutter and stop every time he pulled you into his body in his sleep, stroking your hair softly and making promises under his breath.
You needed to move on.
The bond you had was rooted in something you weren't even sure was romantic. He hadn't tried to kiss you, although there had been a few times you thought he would. Nights where you'd be so close your noses would almost touch, mornings where you'd wake up in his arms.
Sometimes you considered just kissing him to know what it felt like. Just a single second to see what you'd spent so long dreaming about before you shelved it entirely.
But Gojo was preoccupied with his own dreams.
You woke up to an empty bed the morning of his second coronation ceremony, the scent of his soap and shampoo still on your pillow when you rolled over, tracing your fingers over the faint indent his body had left.
A note has been left on your nightstand, accompanied by a pretty white flower cutting of heliotrope, probably just picked because it was the same shade as his hair and swelled sweet. You still smiled, rubbing the corner of your eyes before reading the note.
See you later, S
You saved it. Changed clothes and slipped it into the pocket of your dress, something you were sure you'd have every inkblot memorized of by the time you were four hours away this afternoon.
And who knows?
Maybe you would see him again some day.
His crown was once again perched on its proper place, gold and gems glittering on top of his moon-white hair.
The crowd cheered louder for his second coronation than they had for his first.
But the only face he hoped to find wasn't there. Showered with praises and poems, returned to his rightful status while he mourned the future he was meant to have before.
One where maybe he had the decency to open your first letter and replied his damn self. One where he'd married you and his best friend was the best man instead of stuck in the same cell he'd just spent a month in. Might've spent the rest of his life in if it wasn't for you.
Too busy missing the signs and making mistakes he would be paying for until he was buried.
He was terrified he'd made another one without realizing it.
You hadn't left yet, had you?
He slipped away from the party, not offering explanations or excuses to anyone who attempted to stop him, scratching his neck around the collar of the stupid fur cloak they'd insisted on dressing him in and hurrying through the hall until he found your room.
Gojo paused, holding his breath before twisting the knob, his stomach curling at the realization it was unlocked before he pushed it open.
The bed was neatly made, the balcony curtains drawn to let in the sun, light bathing the room that refused to warm his skin without you there. The note he'd left, the flower he handpicked for you, had both disappeared, taken too.
You were gone. He walked in, touching every surface like he was searching for some sign of you. There wasn't even a note.
He paused, glancing through one of the pretty stained glass windows overlooking the front garden, the cobbled path to the street packed with carriages outside.
And you.
Handing over a suitcase to the driver, glancing past your shoulder and shielding your eyes to look over the palace one last time.
His legs were moving for him, ripping open the balcony door and calling your name.
You didn't hear him.
He didn't bother judging the distance, or even looking down at the drop. It was only the second floor after all.
And then he was jumping over the railing, landing in a bush and losing his cloak in the process, branches and leaves getting stuck to his outfit as he scrambled to get free, his ankle aching as he broke into a jog to catch up to you. It was a miracle his crown hadn't fallen off. Sprinting down the street and shouting to you like he was fucking crazy, and he supposed he really might've lost it when he watched you climbing in to the carriage and the door shut behind you.
The driver saw him first, freezing and squinting at him before gawking the second he realized who this stranger was.
Already starting to bow his head before Gojo was begging him to wait, fumbling through an explanation that he needed to speak to you.
You must have heard something, the door opening back up and your cute face scrunching in confusion when you peeked out.
"Satoru?"
He couldn't let this be the last time you called him that.
Gojo wasn't sure what he was doing, didn't have a single fucking clue, really, but he was down on both knees before you could get another syllable out.
"Don't go," He murmured, a desperate plea shining in his eyes. "I just, I know I'm a mess and I've put you through enough, but fuck, I can't lose you, okay? I love you, and I-I need you, and you're just-"
"I'm what?" You asked, soft and surprisingly sincere when he half-expected you to shut the door on him while he rambled.
"You're too good for me," He confessed, blunt and broken in a way he didn't know if he'd be able to put back together on his own. "If I was a better man, I'd let you leave and never look back, but I'm selfish and stupid and-"
You grabbed him by his collar and tugged him inside the carriage, shutting the door behind him with a slam.
"I'm sor-" He started to apologize again just for you to huff and shut him up with a kiss.
There was nothing soft about it.
It was hard and hungry and heated, your hands on his face and your lips between his, the taste of mint lingering on them as he desperately kissed you back.
He was grabbing your waist, awkwardly maneuvering until you were straddling his lap, soft thighs spread over his sturdy ones, squeezing you every few seconds to make sure you were real and this wasn't some incredibly long dream he'd been having inside his cell still.
"Is this-" He stammered, barely breaking away just to breathe in your skin, the perfume on it and the smell of his soap on your body. "Are you sure?"
"Kiss me again and find out," You murmured, fingers tracing up over his collar one and getting tangled in his hair, careful not to mess up the crowd he'd forgotten he was still wearing.
His mouth found yours again, hungrily sucking on your bottom lip when your hips suddenly rolled down on the growing bulge barely concealed by his pants.
Gojo's fingers felt clumsy when he fumbled for his crown, taking it off just to delicately place it on your head between kisses, grinning at the way you pulled back just to giggle and smile at him.
"Oh?"
"It's yours," He promised. It wasn't much for a proposal, but he needed you to know he meant it. He'd give you the palace on a platter if you wanted it.
"I'll think about it," You teased.
And hey, that wasn't a no.
You tilted your head to the side, and he took that as permission to leave more proof of his affection down your throat, littering the skin with bites and sucks. You moaned, just barely audible at his teeth nipped at you, and his cock practically jumped, throbbing to be touched.
He felt his jaw stiffen, trying to hold himself back, kissing you softer to keep himself together.
"Satoru," You said his name, and it was only when your smile subtly curled up in time with his cock twitched again that he realized you knew what you were doing, knew what effect you had on him.
"Princess," He breathed, struggling not to stutter when you readjusted on his lap, your hips moving just right, the pressure and friction making his already hazy head more lost in you.
"Do you really want me?" You asked, blinking a few times, lashes fluttering and eyes begging him to say yes. Offering him a vulnerable sliver of yourself.
"More than I've ever wanted anything," He answered truthfully.
"Then take me," You shrugged, maybe to make the moment feel smaller, like it was something you could contain.
He kissed you again, starving every second his lips weren't on you.
"Not here," He murmured.
You huffed at him, letting your canines graze a little too harsh against his bottom lip, but he couldn't help but hope you'd bite, leave his lip bruised and swollen so everyone could see your claim on him.
"Where then?"
He had you splayed out in his bed twenty minutes later, carrying you over his shoulder like a piece of game or grand trophy he'd won, ignoring the cheers and congratulations of staff members he passed by and the flustered few who tried to shout at him to return to the after-party. You were giggling the whole way there, keeping the crown on your head with one hand.
Gojo took his time peeling off every layer you were reveling in the softness of your skin and the shape of your body, tracing over the dimples and curves, holding his breath when he finally pulled your panties down your thighs.
"Are you just going to stare?" You mimicked him, but he could see the uncertainty in your own face, nervousness betraying you.
"I've never, um, y'know," He awkwardly began to admit, but he was sure his touch made it obvious, the tender way he skimmed over your breasts instead of immediately groping them.
"Had sex?" You scrunched your face up, like you really never guessed.
"Yeah," He muttered, still fumbling for the buttons on his shirt, pulling it off and discarding it on the floor by your dress. "Have you?"
"No," You shook your head, biting down on the inside of your cheek, a little embarrassed yourself. "I've done, other stuff but um, never this."
"Just tell me if it's too much," He murmured, getting out of bed to stand and properly take his own pants off. The way you watched him made him self-conscious, aware of the scars and his body still too lean for his liking. He'd resumed morning workouts and eating as much as he could to makeup for the days and weeks stuck in a cell, but he'd been in a better shape before.
"You're so attractive it's annoying," You confessed with a soft sigh, your eyes trailing down to the v of his hips, lingering on this pink and aching cock beneath the thick patch of his happy trail.
"You think so?" He hm-ed, not realizing his badly he needed the reassurance.
"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. Now come here," You impatiently teased, just as needy as him.
He climbed back in bed, but he laid down next to you, pulling you up on his chest so your back as reclining on him, one hand slipping between your thighs while the other found your breast, toying with the nipple while he dipped two fingers inside your entrance.
Slick and soaked just for him.
"W-what are you-" Your voice broke, shattered like glass as you suddenly gasped when he pushed past that first tight ring of resistance, your walls clenching around his fingers.
"That feel good?" He hummed in your ear, lips grazing against the shell of it when you shivered under his touch, twitching when he rolled his thumb over your nipple.
"Mm, mhm," You nodded, craning your neck up to make eye contact with him, your stare glossy, full of something he hoped was love rather than just lust or longing.
Pumping his fingers faster, crooking them in deeper just to watch the way your lips parted with pleas of his name, studying the shape of your mouth when it formed the syllables.
His cock was painfully hard, throbbing with every moan, desperate for some release stuck between your back and his abs, barely able to keep his hips from bucking up.
He wasn't even sure if he'd be able to last more than two seconds when he was actually inside you.
So he tried to focus on your pleasure, stretching you open with a third finger, barely able to slot it in, watching the tears prick at your lashes.
"P-please, S'toru, need you," You whined, shuddering and moaning when his thumb ghosted over your clit.
He had you flat on the mattress in two seconds.
Back arching off the bed, his hands on your hip to hold you up while he pressed the tip of his leaking cock to your entrance. You gasped, silently nodding at him to put it in.
"Fuck, my pretty lady needs me?" He gritted his teeth, jaw clenched as he used every last drop of self-control in his body to ease his way in, watching inch by inch of his thick cock disappear into your warmth, veins pulsing as you sucked him in.
He felt like he might pass out.
Seeing the way your body connected with his, feeling your hips under his hand, the way you melted into a puddle in his palm, peering up at him the same way he'd pictured in his head so many times.
You made a sound, trying to speak and stuffed too full to get the words out.
And fuck, he was right there with you when he bottomed out, tip pressing into what he guessed was your womb, pleasure burning through him in hot flashes.
"I love you," He groaned, leaning down to kiss you, his cock throbbing when he refused to move, refused to budge, showering your face in kisses while you wrapped your wrists behind his neck and crossed your legs behind his back.
The closeness of all of it was too much.
You felt like his.
"Promise me," You murmured, inhaling hard between heated kisses.
"I promise," He easily repeated, pulling out his cock and pushing back in for the first unsure trust your chest rising and falling like he'd knocked the breath out of you. "Forever."
"Even if the next life?" You lightened up, your teasing once again turning into a whine when he buried himself down to the hilt inside you.
"Every life."
He made sure to fuck you like it.
Demanding thrusts, claiming you inside and out, his cock pumping in-and-out, his grip bruising on your hips and his lips leaving hickies all over your neck. Drawing moan after moan from your mouth, flipping you onto your stomach to keep going, pushing your back into that pretty arch for him and splitting you open on his cock with borderline mean pumps.
"Mine," He muttered, trailing kisses back up your spine to the nape of your neck, brushing the hair away and groaning at how hard you squeezed him, trying to milk him for all he had. "Tryin' to make me cum, princess?"
"M-maybe," You huffed. Your voice was a broken whisper, strained from the strangled noises he kept ripping from you.
The heat in his chest was building, skin damp with and loose strands of hair stuck to his forehead as his muscles burned and tensed.
He slipped a hand underneath your body, finding your clit and rolling it between two fingers, your body shuddering, pressure building in your own stomach at the friction.
"Breathe, baby," He teased, and you tried, your cries muffled into the mattress when you unraveled beneath him, cumming hard right as his own tension snapped, abs briefly pulling taut as he painted your insides white.
Cum leaking down your thighs by the time he pulled out, mesmerized by the way it slowly dripped down onto his silk sheets. His tip was still swollen, resting on your ass and dripping more as he sucked in a sharp breath, tracing over your skin with adoration before pushing his cum back inside you just to hear the filthy squelch.
"Did so good f'me, princess," He praised, not quite able to steady his breathing still as you rolled over to face him, your own chest heaving.
"Just princess?" You hummed, limbs weak and exhausted as you grabbed his hand and tugged him on top of you.
"Would you say yes if I asked you to be my Empress?" He asked, running his thumb over your lip before leaning down to get another taste of you.
"Perhaps," You smiled, soft and sweet and everything he'd been dreaming about for months.
And the idea of it being his, of you smiling at him like that every day, was irresistible and intoxicating and absolutely addicting. Imagining you with him all the time, in his office and on his throne, waddling around with his baby in your belly or cradling an infant in your arms, he wanted all of it.
The good days and the bad, every broken and bent piece of you and all the best ones too.
Truly the luckiest man on earth just to exist in your warmth for however many moments you allowed.
"Hey, baby?" He yawned, leaning down to rest his head against your collarbone while your soft palms slid up his back.
"Mhm?"
"I think I sprained my ankle."
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dollykitty333 · 2 months ago
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this pic sent me into cardiac arrest
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dollykitty333 · 3 months ago
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🪽 LET HIM IN.
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summary: remmick really just wants you to let him in.
warnings: a little freaky. barely proof read.
a/n: i caved and wrote a little something for remmick.
".. you shouldn't be here." you whispered, your voice almost quivering. he'd been here since dew had covered the grass and the windows of your bedroom, pleading with you to let him in.
there was a warning in his eyes as they flicked over your features before his mouth curled into a smirk. “maybe you oughta do your part and run me off,” he suggested, the drawl a lazy command. “go tell your folks there’s a devil on the porch.” his voice was velvet and danger, and you knew he was enjoying every second. “see if they can keep me away.”
remmick chuckled softly, his hand spread against the screen door. he leaned in, so close that his words danced against your flesh, and he watched your reaction closely, that smirk widening. "i don't think they could if they tried," he murmured, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.
there's no man who loves you the way he can. his obsession—his need—is not a sickness. it's love in its rawest, pure form. there are people who think love is a weakness. people who think it’s a distraction. a waste of time. remmick, on the other hand, doesn't believe in love at first sight. because the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew. he recognized the tug in his chest for exactly what it was, a pull so intense that he would chase you across mississippi if he had to. so what if someone sees that as a sickness? that's the beauty of it. you're his.
"my pa will. he'll shoot you dead right here on this porch." you threatened, your gaze lowering to his feet, which hadn't crossed the threshold of the front door without your permission.
"he's welcome to try," remmick replied, not fazed in the slightest. in fact, he looked faintly amused. there was a challenge in his eyes as he let them roam over your face, taking in the mix of defiance and uncertainty.
his hand came up, his fingers tracing a slow, teasing line down the mesh, the sound sharp and grating. he spoke quietly, his voice a low, almost mocking whisper. "you really think your pa knows you like i do, sweetheart?"
"he doesn't see how you shiver when i get close," remmick continued, his voice a soft, sinful lilt. "he don't know how eager those pretty little hands wanna touch me. ain't none of 'em see the look on your face, or else they'd never let me within a mile of their property. i can hear your heartbeat, your second one too."
"... you ain't so pure as they think, are you, honey?" remmick hummed low in his throat, his eyes locked on hers with a heady intensity. he saw the internal battle you were waging, and he relished in it, that smirk never leaving his face. he played right into it, leaning forward another inch..
"you're thinking about it, aren't ya? Inviting me inside, where it's calm and quiet," he murmured, his words like a sinful taunt. "you wanna say it."
"just say the words, and i'll be across that threshold before you can catch your breath." he promised.
"...."
"come in."
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dollykitty333 · 3 months ago
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Nobody understands how much I yearn for this man.😖
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dollykitty333 · 3 months ago
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rdtl armin && me .
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dollykitty333 · 3 months ago
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dollykitty333 · 3 months ago
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dollykitty333 · 3 months ago
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dollykitty333 · 4 months ago
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౨ৎ this is real true love <3
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