#gojo x uou

[meiieiri]

water’s edge | 02

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

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

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

₊˚.༄ masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…Don’t run after her.

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

…

“Your Highness, please wait.”

6:12 AM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why were you so committed to marrying him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8:55 AM.

“Need some help?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

11:45 AM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To (Y/N),

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

– HRH Satoru Gojo”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To Your Royal Highness,

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

Wholeheartedly yours,

(Y/N) (L/N)”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll hold you to it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12:30 PM.

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

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

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

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m so sorry…”

“…Where’s Satoru?”

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

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

#fic: water’s edge #gojo smut #jjk #jjk angst #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x reader angst #gojo x you angst #geto x reader angst #geto x you angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader angst #geto suguru x reader angst #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #jjk imagines #gojo angst #geto angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk gojo #jjk geto #gojo satoru angst

[saintobio]

sincerely not. (5)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, slight misogyny (hi naoya), alcohol consumption/intoxication, cheating, breeding kink, explicit smut

notes. this chapter has 9k words on god pls excuse my writing i couldn’t be bothered to edit sdjnsj also !! here is the playlist for the series <3

series masterlist -> episode six

One of the many events where wealthy people gathered together was in auctions. Charity auctions, to be exact. There was nothing more exciting than to be in a room filled with the most affluent people in the country, flaunting their riches by bidding on different valued items with exorbitant amounts of cash. In all rich people’s handbooks, it wasn’t a secret that raising a bid was more of a competition than an intent to help a certain charity. This was all because of the mindset that if you were in the same place as your rival business empires, the most satisfying feeling in the world was to know that you had more fortune than everyone else in the room. It boasted of luxury, power, and abundance in money. You weren’t exactly supporting the principles that the people from your elite social class upheld, but this was the norm that you had grown accustomed to.

That being said, it didn’t feel any different for you when you entered the hotel’s grand ballroom. Greeted by the euphonious melodies of the pianoforte, the cluster of high class people in their tailored suits and dresses, and the redolence of expensive champagne made you feel like a monarch of the new age. Everything was upscale for a ballroom that oozed glitz and glamor.

Perhaps you really were seen as a princess with a godly prince holding your hand as you walked further into the venue. You and your husband received greetings from the elders and garnered looks of admiration from the bachelors and bachelorette. You could very well discern through the sparkles in their eyes that they didn’t see Satoru and Y/N, but rather, the heir and the heiress of The Gojou Group and the Creston Financial Group. They could see money and power before your faces—a superficial trait common to the elite.

If you had no name, there was no place for you in there. As kids born from old money, people would recognize you by being represented as someone’s daughter or son which was the raw indication that you could never truly be yourself without your lineage or inherited wealth. The upper class would also consider factors such as how big your business was, how many properties you had, and how much assets you owned for you to be classified as influential enough to find your belongingness with the high society. You couldn’t just simply be rich, you had to be the richest of the rich. This was the key to be a part of the exclusive circle of aristocratic families.

Fortunately, status didn’t blind you. Nor did money and material things. You believed that there was no reason to form a clique when anyone regardless of their bank account could participate in events like these for their own philanthropy. The sad thing was how those born from old money tend to raise an eyebrow for the nouveau riche, releasing scoffs of mockery and side-eyeing them whenever they noticed that an arriviste had managed to find their way into the elite society.

Everyone hated the new rich. Even your own husband, simply by how terribly he treated his step-mom claiming that the woman was a status-seeking parvenu who would be in the streets if she didn’t climb up the social ladder by sleeping with his dad.

A bit harsh for him to say, but what was new for Satoru?

“Where’d you get this?” With the said husband stopping at one of the cocktail tables, he grabbed your wrist and eyed the gold bracelet around it.

“From Nana,” you answered, tidying up his collar as he placed a hand on the small of your back. Satoru displayed contemporary elegance in his tailored Zegna suit—truly a man of class and effortless sophistication. “She said it was your family’s heirloom.”

Satoru remained stiff when he chose not to say another word, taking a sip from the glass of champagne to distract his thoughts. You could tell that he wanted to make a comment about the bracelet but could not do so when all eyes were constantly glancing at the two of you. “They’re all looking.”

Well, who wouldn’t find a newlywed couple intriguing? Gossips about how you landed Gojou and contrariwise were probably the topic of their sotto voce remarks for tonight. Their eyes were green with envy, but their lips were upturned into inauthentic smiles.

“Don’t mind them,” you told your husband just as he tugged at the hem of your Chanel tweed skirt, scrutinizing your outfit with his slender fingers that brushed on your thighs. “H-Hey.”

“Don’t you have a pantyhose underneath? This is too short.” His criticism was laced with irritation. “Just change into that other dress you brought along.”

Acting. He could be acting. You had to remember that he was quite a good actor and that he wasn’t truly concerned about the lack of fabric that covered your thighs. “Oh, that... It’s my piece for the auction.”

Diamond blue eyes quickly met your gaze at the information. “From your closet?”

“No, I designed it,” you clarified, acknowledging your auntie from two tables away with a smile before you looked back at your husband.

He placed a hand in his pocket and held yours on the other, brushing his thumb on your skin as he spoke. “You make clothes?”

If no one was around, would you even have this conversation at all? Your heart was somersaulting from all the downpour of affectionate gestures, something that you rarely received from him. “I just design them. I have a professional seamstress that makes them for me.”

Satoru averted his eyes to check the multitude of high class people around the two of you. “Didn’t know you do fashion design.”

You did, in fact, wish that you could have pursued fashion but was pressured to take up Business Management and Entrepreneurship just like him.

“Well, you never asked.” You didn’t say it bitterly, but it was plain true that Satoru was never curious enough to know about your hobbies and interests.

And as expected, he didn’t further ask about you until Shoko Ieiri in her Anna Sui peplum dress appeared on your side with an enthusiastic grin to greet you and your husband. Because she came from a family of renowned doctors, she held her own reputation within the elites.

“Hey, you two,” she exchanged quick kisses on the cheek with you before she nudged Satoru on the rib, “How was the honeymoon? I saw the pictures.”

A nightmare. Just thinking about Iceland was enough to release a gnawing ache through the crevices of your heart. All you could remember in your head during that trip was how badly you tried your best to spend it happily with Satoru, only to have him constantly remind you that he was basically doing it out of obligation.

“It was fine." He took the initiative to answer but was visibly stultified based on the tone of his voice alone. He then released your hand and looked around the place as if he was searching for someone. “Ieiri, have you seen Suguru?”

Shoko could only offer a shrug. “Who cares? He could be waiting on some chick,” she answered, quickly changing the topic, “I’ll borrow your wife for a while. Don’t miss her too much.”

“Whatever,” your husband muttered concurrently to how he rolled his eyes with lack of concern.

Your eyes widened as the woman tugged at your wrist and dragged you with her while you were looking at Satoru in panic. “Wait, I—”

“Relax, we’re just gonna join the youngsters for a bit,” said Ieiri as the two of you strutted across the table, “Mai wants to meet you. Besides, Gojou is a a self-righteous asshole. I bet all he talks about with you is how he’s the richest man here.”

Satoru wouldn’t even initiate conversations with you on the daily and realizing that was more hurtful than you imagined. Since that night when he asked you to stay with him, your guilt allowed you to submit to his request because you felt some sort of responsibility for finding yourself caught in between him and Sera. His words were clear in your head, reminding you of the pain that you owed them for having agreed to the marriage and for simply existing.

You sighed, choosing not to plague your mind with depressing thoughts as Shoko guided you to a table where the Zen’in twins and Yuuta were seemingly having a lighthearted conversation. Satoru’s step-brother immediately acknowledged you with a welcoming grin by the time you reached them.

“Yuuta, hey,” you greeted, waving a hand before turning to Maki and Mai, in nearly similar dresses, who both gave you a quick bow of respect. “Ah, you two look really pretty!”

Ieiri supported your compliment. “Right? As a Zen’in should be. Their genes are something else.”

Now that she mentioned it, the Zen’ins truly were quite notable within the elites. Their clan was well-known all over the country for being one of the biggest business empires across Japan. They highly rivaled the Gojou Group when it came to industries such as real-estate and investments, and they also owned the biggest department stores nationwide. You weren’t sure what drama they had within their family, but you could alike their popularity to the Kardashians in the US.

It was flattering to know that the twins looked forward to seeing you because you’ve always admired how strong and independent they were even at such a young age. If only you had the same trait growing up, you would probably be powerful in your own regard.

“I’m so excited to bid on your dress!” Mai cheerfully informed you, “I can imagine myself wearing it. Your designs are so amazing.”

Before you could respond in gratitude, Maki decided to add her thoughts as well. “Maybe you should start your own line.”

You considered the thought. “I’m not confident yet, but...”

“Nee-chan, you’re already amazing at it.” Yuuta’s eyes turned into crescent moons with his smile. “We’ll support you. The whole family will.”

It was the same thing Gen told you when she encouraged you to start your own clothing line, but you heavily insisted at the time that fashion design was only a hobby and you knew that you couldn’t really just abandon the family business. You were set to take position in your father’s company soon so it might only give you a heavier weight on your shoulders to handle two things at once. Or three, because Satoru was the primary cause of your stress.

“They kinda have a point,” said Shoko before she shot you an encouraging wink. “You should definitely have me as your model.”

Along with a chuckle, you nodded your head, “I’d be honored to.”

Where the hell is he? Gojou was getting more and more agitated at the fact that his best friend was still not around. He already checked his phone thrice within a short period of five minutes but there had been no reply after the last one.

Satoru: You coming?

Suguru: Yea, you owe me for this

Satoru: Make sure she’s safe

On a good note, his father was not here in the auction because he had to meet up with your dad to try and persuade the man with the thought of a mergers and acquisitions deal. The only thing that was adding onto Gojou’s irritation was the fact that his witch of a step-mother was here, currying favor among the elites like a desperate social climber.

Satoru tried not to give a damn about his step-mom while some of the influential men approached him to discuss his business ventures and blatantly comparing it to theirs. While you were with Ieiri, your husband had to hold conversations with his uncle and his elders to talk about business politics, stock trading, and investments. In between those commerce-related topics, they all also congratulated him for his recent marriage and for choosing the ideal woman to spend his forever with.

There was no way Satoru would admit it, but you gave him some leverage when it came to receiving approving nods and praises full of respect for the power that you two held together as a couple. Being married to you was a boost to his ego because no one had ever treated him higher than they did when he was still a bachelor. Now that there was the prospect of your companies merging together, everyone else started to feel inferior to Gojou. Sure he was selfish for utilizing you, but he realized just how much he loved gaining power and superiority because of the marriage.

The last person that he expected to approach him was one of the possible heirs of the Zen’in Group, Naoya Zen’in, whose smirk and sharp eyes promptly elicited Satoru’s pique. He had known him after a series of business events where they would run to each other since their teenage years. Gojou deemed it was safe to say that the man was a rascal who often annoyed him with his competitive nature.

“These upstarts, they don’t know their place,” said the blond man as he stood next to Gojou while looking at the two unfamiliar guys from another table that both reeked of overflowing pretentiousness. “Good thing your wife isn’t like them, right? She’s born from old money.”

Satoru exhaled and placed his hands back inside his pockets. “What do you want?”

The corner of Naoya’s lips only lifted itself higher than before—a clear sign of his incoming mischief. “Can I not greet the best actor in this room?”

“Watch your mouth.” For a fleeting moment, Gojou’s eyes followed you as he watched how you timidly laughed around Ieiri and the younger members of the business empires. “Who says I’m acting? I love her.”

The heir of the Zen’in clan was ruthless enough to ridicule Satoru with a sardonic laugh. “Please. Rumors have been flying around, you know? They say you only married her to acquire their company. You’re quite bold, Satoru-kun. You deserve an Oscar for those skills.”

It was the first time he ever rendered himself speechless in front of Naoya because Satoru was often one to make clever comebacks, yet he couldn’t even deny this one. “It’s what our fathers want. Why don’t you focus on your own business? It’s why you can’t ever surpass me.”

By choice, Naoya ignored the guy’s last remark. “Shame. You’re counting on a woman to achieve your success? If I married Y/N, I’d put her on her place and simply use her as a fuck toy. Maybe that’s what you’re doing, huh—”

Gojou’s firm hand latched onto Naoya’s velvet suit, provoking him for a fight but the latter only chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Keep her name off your mouth.”

“Right, right. The acting thing,” Naoya sneered as he looked straight into Satoru’s sky blue orbs and grinned at his face. “Acting like you care and all, I ge—”

“Is everything okay here?”

Satoru had to roll his eyes in annoyance when he saw his step-mother getting in between them, showing her pretentious attempt at being concerned. “Get the hell away from me,” he didn’t hold back at saying those words to her before he looked back at Naoya who seemed to have found it by himself to just walk away.

“See you later, Satoru-kun.” The guy left him with a few taps on the back as he walked towards their table, forcing Satoru to be alone with the witch.

The said witch was gritting her teeth, holding her faux fur purse while narrowing her dark brown eyes at her step-son. “If you wanna act like a bastard in front of everyone, I’m not stopping you. At least they can see how my son has better manners than you.”

He hoped that his clenched jaws were enough to scare the woman off. “I said, get the fuck outta my face. You disgust me.”

The woman opened her mouth to retaliate but was cut off when you came back, looping an arm around your husband with worried doe eyes.

“Baby?” Your gentle voice somehow softened Satoru’s antagonistic stance and he instinctively held you closer to his chest. “What’s wrong?”

He would’ve hated you for being clingy, but frankly, he could thank you for distracting him away from his step-mom who now couldn’t say anything else but to fake a smile to you and say, “I’ll leave you lovebirds, then.”

The auction was crazy to say the least. It wasn’t like this for the past year, but everyone was more prepared this year to bid higher prices just to seal the deal in getting the most worthy items displayed. As a representative for your family, Gen was better at making bids compared to you because it was innate for her to be confident in a room full of businesspeople. She took after your dad for having the same leadership qualities while you took after your mom for being softer and unassuming by nature.

You wished that Gen was here to witness the on-going war for the dress that you designed because you were highly certain that she would find it entertaining how Mai was doing her best to get the cream asymmetrical dress that you brought as your piece for tonight’s auction.

“One hundred thousand yen!” yelled Mai, crossing her arms beside an amused Maki.

The host announced her bid price, “I’ve got one hundred thousand yen, any more?”

“Here, two hundred thousand!” From the opposite side of your table, it was the daughter of Mrs. Suzuki who proposed the bidding price.

You could hear Mai’s groan even from a distance, but being a Zen’in whose pride soared higher than the ceiling of the grand ballroom, she fought back with another bid, “Five hundred thousand!”

“Oh my God.” Your eyes grew wide from her determination to get the dress. Even Maki was stunned to hear her twin’s offer. “Mai really wants it.”

“Five hundred thousand! Going once, twice,” the host counted off, “and that’s it, the beautiful dress designed by our gorgeous Y/N Gojou is officially sold to Mai Zen’in!”

Mai’s triumphant squeal was loud enough to make the elders laugh. And while you chuckled at her reaction, you couldn’t also get over the fact that the host said your name with your husband’s surname attached to it. It was those simple things that made your heart flutter naturally.

“She’s crazy,” Satoru yawned, meeting your eyes for a brief second. “She likes your dress that much.”

“I know...” And had you known how desperate she was, you would have willingly designed a special one and gifted it to her because you absolutely adored just how supportive Mai and Maki were and they were not even your relatives.

Throughout that night, more items were up for bidding including Naoya’s ancient katana which was sold for seven hundred thousand yen, Ieiri’s limited edition Hermés china set which was sold for three hundred thousand, and Satoru’s Zegna suit which garnered a whooping one million yen.

On the other hand, you noticed how your husband kept glancing at his phone while looking around the ballroom. His eyes searched for every corner—all except you. The only time where his attention actually came back to the auction was when the most awaited item was finally put on display.

“And now, our main item for this night is the rare and stunning Jimmy Choo flat pumps that Princess Diana once wore. Embellished with south sea pearls and ornamented with Swarovski crystals—these elegant shoes are truly fitting for a princess! Now, who will be the next owner?”

All women in the room gasped, including you, when the light blue heeled shoes were displayed in a glass box for everyone to see. It was not only breathtaking in person, the sentimental value it had for being Princess Diana’s shoes were what made every single woman in the room competitive at raising their bids up. It was war, indeed.

“It’s so gorgeous,” you whispered, eyes coruscating in fascination at the sight of the majestic shoes. As much as you wanted to bid, the women already started going through hell just to get it.

“Three hundred thousand!”

“Me, I’ll do five hundred thousand!”

“I’ll get it for one million!”

You were taken aback when your husband suddenly snatched the bidding card from your hand and raised it for the host to acknowledge. “Five million yen.”

God. As soon as he threw his bidding price in, everyone in the whole ballroom turned to the two of you and you were about to melt on the spot because of the sudden attention that you and your husband received from every single person in the room. There was no way that you expected that Gojou would go out of his way to actually bother purchasing a woman’s shoes at an auction. There were gasps of astonishment and a fusillade of Oh my Gods that followed after he sealed off the deal.

“Jimmy Choo shoes sold for five million yen for the handsome Satoru Gojou,” the host was just as astounded, “What a lucky wife.”

Somehow, later that night, you managed to see Suguru Getou who approached you and Ieiri while the event was still on-going. He was showing his trademark smile, one that turned his eyes into curved lines as he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Suguru.” You gave your husband’s best friend a warm hug. “Satoru has been looking for you since we came here.”

He scratched the back of his head, taking the glass of champagne that Shoko handed him. “Is he?” he casually drank from the glass and oddly avoided your eyes. “Where’s he now?”

“Bathroom,” you answered, realizing that it had been a couple of minutes since Satoru excused himself. Was he actually wandering around the hotel? Or was he caught up in another situation like earlier with his step-mother? You’ve gotten quite worried so you decided to follow. “Hey, um... I think I need a quick bathroom break as well.”

Panic then stretched across Suguru’s face. “Wait, Y/N... Don’t you wanna stay here and talk for a while?”

Ieiri took it upon herself to answer him. “Jesus. Let her,” she said, urging you to go off, “Go and have that quickie with your hubby.”

Heat suffused your cheeks as you chuckled and politely took your exit by walking out of the ballroom in measured footsteps because your feet were getting sore from the stilettos that you were wearing.

You lied. You weren’t actually heading to the bathroom. What you did was to ask one of the waiters if he had seen your husband somewhere. Lucky enough, he guided you to one of the dressing rooms behind the grand ballroom which was void of people with nothing but classical music ricocheting through the walls. After thanking the guy, you walked closer to the room—door was ajar as you got near and immediately stopped in your tracks when you heard a familiar woman’s voice echoing from inside.

“Satoru, this is so beautiful!”

You didn’t mean to peek. And strangely, it felt like you weren’t supposed to see this specific moment between Gojou and Sera knowing that your heart was going to crumple like a bottle of can that had been squeezed and twisted to release everything it had inside. Perhaps what you experienced behind your ribcage was more painful than that.

“Cost me a lot,” your husband said, crouching in front of her as he placed her feet inside the shoes that you stupidly believed was meant for you. “There’s only one pair in the world. Princess Diana wore this.”

None of them were aware about your presence behind the doors, neither would they care enough had they known. Gojou and Sera seemed to have always lived in a bubble of fairy tales whenever they were together—so passionate, so dreamy, so in love. You hardly received the same gaze that he would give her nor did you share the same kiss that he willingly saved for her. Sera was truly the only woman in his eyes despite being a married man and you thought that you could accept it, you thought that you could be fine seeing him with her, you thought that you could live with having another woman occupying your husband’s heart. Your level of masochism was not strong enough to endure this much anguish.

“I booked the presidential suite for us tonight,” he informed her after a quick peck on her lips, holding her by the waist and smiling at her with love in his eyes. “I can’t wait to be alone with you again.”

Why do you torture yourself at watching them step over your dignity? Why couldn’t you go in there and yell at his face, call him out for how awful he was making you feel? He was unfair and you knew that he didn’t value your marriage, but you thought that you were prepared enough to see him cheating on you. You weren’t, and you definitely wished that you didn’t allow it. So how exactly did you find yourself in this tortuous situation?

The answer was simple: you were paying the repercussions for splitting them apart.

This was what Satoru meant when he said those words to you back in the penthouse. You would have to go through this much pain in order to feel even a little bit of theirs, when in truth, their pain was not even half as close as the gravity of yours.

You had to leave. Even when your eyes pooled with tears, you started walking away from the scene with your heart tightening heavily each second. The pain was astronomical that you had to place your hand over your chest just to ease the growing ache. Your breathing turned rapid as your heart pounded but you continued to walk aimlessly, wanting to just escape the image of Satoru and Sera kissing because tonight was the first time where you have actually seen how sweet your husband was with another woman. A great contrast to how he treated you.

Tears blurred your vision while you gasped for air, walking and walking and walking until you stumbled inside a place where you could find solace away from the torment. It was never your plan to end up here, but you found yourself entering the hotel’s bar and sliding to sit at one of the bar stools with a face clouded in deep sorrow. How could Satoru hurt you both directly and indirectly? How could he let you suffer this much and you still wanted the best for him? These questions were left unanswered, but they burdened your mind nonstop.

“Can I get a forty-two on the rocks, please?” you requested when the bartender came, eyes worriedly looking at you because desolation infused your voice when you spoke. You weren’t much of a drinker but believed that this was the only way to alleviate your pain. Even for tonight. You were so overwhelmed from the heartache that you’ve become numb because it scared you that your emotional pain was mixing with the unusual physical throbbing in your chest.

You didn’t notice that the bar barely had people inside, only a couple from a distance and a man who was seated one stool apart from you. The mop of raven hair, the infamous scar on his lips—you used to only see this man through media outlets and it was rare for you to come across him because he had always been laissez-faire about their family’s business ventures, yet here he was now, distracting you from your pain with his presence alone.

“I have a son,” was the first thing he jokingly said to you, downing a glass of Scotch before meeting your eyes fleetingly.

Confused by his words, you had to clarify, “Excuse me? I wasn’t trying to...” You showed your ring. “I have a husband.”

Did he think that you purposely sit next to him because you were trying to make a move? Surely, many women probably approached him this way but it somehow offended your soft heart. You could never find yourself being confident enough to even initiate a conversation to someone like him.

In your limited knowledge, you’ve heard that Toji Zen’in was a man full of pride. It was an intrinsic trait for a Zen’in to have, but Toji’s vainglory had always been his remarkable trait. He could live an independent life away from his family because he was powerful enough to run a business by himself. He was adroit, sagacious, and a good decision-maker which were some of the prime qualities that a CEO must possess to successfully handle a conglomerate. He was indeed as intimidating as the sound of his last name.

You’ve always thought that he was a serious man who never joked around with others, much less talked to them, so you were not expecting to see a playful smile tugging at his lips when he studied your face for a good minute. “Y/N, right?” he asked, clearly entertained. “So where’s the husband now?”

With the woman he loves. You sighed just as the bartender placed a cold up of 42 in front of you, urging you to sip from the drink to let the burning taste numb your throat. You had to veil your forlorn expression before Toji could notice. “In the auction.”

“Interesting.” Toji swiveled from his chair just enough to face you, playing with the cubes of ice by slightly shaking his glass. The clinking sound was almost a form of mockery as he watched you try to pull yourself together. “It’s arranged, isn’t it?”

How could he have possibly known? Was it that obvious? In your own effort, you still tried to deny it. “No, Satoru and I have known each other since we were kids. We’ve grown fond of one another.”

While he shrugged in response, the glint in his eyes reflected just how much he didn’t believe your words. “You can admit it. You should know the difference by how a man looks at you. There’s no love in his eyes, not even a little bit.”

“Gee, thanks a lot,” you retorted, spitefully chugging all the liquor as tears welled up your eyes. It was as if your heart was being excavated out of your chest thinking of the plans that Satoru had for Sera tonight, plans that he never made with his own wife. “You’re right. He hates me, actually.”

There was no reason to hide it from a man who came from an aristocratic family himself. Arranged marriages were common and it was even more likely to happen than a casual marriage because everything about the world that the people like you lived in held importance for money, power, and assets. Toji would not judge you for it, and in fact, he had softened a little as he sympathized with you.

“Wanna talk about something else?” he offered, pivoting on his chair to signal another glass from the bartender. You did the same by politely asking for a glass of tequila mojito this time.

You were grateful that Toji wasn’t one to stick his nose into private matters and you found it very comforting that he would rather talk about anything to distract you from your emotional turmoil. “Why are you here and not with your family there?”

He drummed his fingers onto the counter’s smooth surface. “I’m not into events like these. They just want me to show up and that’s it.”

Choosing momentary silence, you nodded your head. “Makes sense. It must be tough to be in your family, huh?”

“Tough?” A bitter grin spread off his lips. “It’s hell in there. If not for Megumi, I’d have cut ties long ago. They put too much pressure on your shoulders and expect you to be perfect enough to handle the business. You have no place in the clan if you’re incompetent.”

You drank from your cocktail and stared at his side profile. “That’s sad to know. My dad doesn’t enforce that much pressure on Gen and I.”

“Gen,” he uttered her name in remembrance, “your sister? We went to the same school. She always stood out.”

As the alcohol blazed your throat with fire, you traced your finger along the edge of the glass in deep thought. “Yeah, I just expect her to run the company better than I ever will. I was never really interested in banking and finance.”

He tilted his head slightly to gauge on the emotions that painted your face. “Anything that interests you, then?”

You had to admit how good it felt to have someone interested enough to listen to the things that made you happy because you doubted that your own husband would ever hold the same curiosity. “I design clothes,” you shared, sipping from your glass and scrunching your nose from the spirit that left fumes in your nostrils. “Well, I don’t make them. I just design and then I have trusted people who create those pieces for me. I’ve always dreamed of having my own team who would plan out all these amazing concepts that I have for the collection and it’s just such a perfect setup that I wanna be in someday.”

“So why don’t you?” he immediately responded with an encouraging question. “You have the money. If you’re looking to lease the perfect space for your clothing line, we have our luxury malls for you.”

You chuckled at his offer, being reminded that they owned some of the largest malls in the country. “I don’t know. I’m just... I’m not prepared.”

Ever since your mom died, you have lost track in life because she was your greatest supporter who encouraged you to always follow your dreams and to enjoy your life like it was the last. Your mom was your heart, and now that she was gone, you didn’t know how to fill the void that she left behind. In a room full of people, you were lonely without the most important person in your life. That was how everything started to feel when your mom vanished from this world.

“You’re only in your mid-twenties,” Toji pointed out, sounding as if he was going to give some helpful advice for you to ponder about. “You have time to build that confidence in.”

You would blame your liquid courage, but it was definitely the alcohol talking when you decided to tease him. “Right, I forgot you’re pushing forty.”

Never did you think that you would be entertained to see Toji’s reaction as his eyes widened and his lips upturned into a grin. “Watch it. I’m only thirty-five.”

Gojou had to drag his feet laboriously after he was told by one of the staff members that you were in the hotel’s bar after he had left you at the ballroom with his friends. He was deeply vexed at how much of an attention-seeker you were for doing this just to make him chase for you. Frankly, if people wouldn’t be suspicious, he never would’ve cared to come down to the bar. He would have gone straight to the presidential suite where Sera was waiting for him so they could spend some time together.

But you had to ruin it for him, just like with everything else.

Along with his established annoyance, Satoru was flabbergasted when he saw you laughing together with his biggest business rival, Toji Zen’in.

What the hell? He held his breath and stomped towards you, snatching the glass from your hand and forcing you to look at him. “Get a hold of yourself. You’re out here drinking?”

You were clearly inebriated out of your wits because you wouldn’t have had the bravery to put your hand on his cheek, presenting him to an amused Toji who listened to you intently. “Here he is. You see this fucking face?” You giggled and leaned back on your husband’s chest. “This is the face of Satan. Haaa... Handsome, but evil.”

Satoru swatted your hand away and drank the rest of your liquor so you wouldn’t consume more alcohol before he sent the other man an accusatory look. “Did you make her drink?”

The Zen’in heir only scoffed at him. “Why would I?” It was more of a statement than a question, something that deeply irked the hell out of Gojou. “She came in here crying. Why don’t you blame yourself that she drank this much?”

“You know nothing. Stay out of it.” Satoru had no ounce of care when he warned the man, later pulling you up as you stumbled on your feet. Why are you even crying? “I’ll take you home. You’re such a burden. I still have somewhere to be, you know?”

You tried to squint your eyes, tilting your head to the side as you lightly threw your fist on your husband’s chest. “S-Somewhere…? I don’t wanna… Can I stay?

Toji got up from his seat and paid for the drinks, which included yours, and Satoru took it as him trying to flex his money. The former’s eyes didn’t leave yours even as he took a few steps closer to pat your back. “You good, Y/N?” he asked, watching as a territorial Satoru locked an arm around your waist. “I’ll take her home if you can’t. She’s not that much of a burden. She’s actually interesting to talk to.”

Was he actually trying to insult him? Satoru’s eyebrows were now furrowed in annoyance. He just couldn’t believe the audacity of this man to even offer such a thing. “Stay away from my wife.”

“Then treat her better.” Toji matched Satoru’s hostility with his own一staring at him with an unfazed look that showed how willing he was to defend a stranger like you. “You’re lucky that your wife stays with you. Others wish they still had theirs.”

“Aaah一my head hurts! I wanna… I wanna go home!”

“Be quiet. We’re already home.” He could smell alcohol in your breath and had to hold his growing ire for your sake or else he would simply snap. He was already on the verge of it, but was trying his best to keep his temper settled.

Satoru didn’t know that you could be so loud when you were drunk. It was hard enough to deal with you when you squirmed out of his hold as he carried you in bridal style, entering the penthouse and heading straight to your shared bedroom. All he had to do was get you to bed so he could leave and head back to the hotel to see Sera.

Unfortunately, when he did place you down in bed, you managed to get up and throw your heels at him. “I said I don’t wanna go home!”

Jesus Christ. Satoru undid two of his buttons to allow himself to breathe while standing at the side to see you struggling to strip yourself off your clothes. “What are you doing? Just stay down!”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you replied, pouting when you successfully rid yourself of your clothing before you teetered your way into the bathroom. “I’m gonna… shower!”

So annoying. Was he babysitting a kid? “Fine. Do what you fucking want.” He shouldn’t even have bothered to drop you off, and yet he was nice enough to. The least you could do was to act like the decent woman that you were, not this wild intoxicated girl that could barely hold herself together. “Next time you drink, I’m not doing shit for you.”

His murmurs were ignored when you continued to enter the bathroom, not even sober enough to open the lights although he did hear the sound of the shower echoing through the glass walls. As exhaustion chased his body, Satoru pulled his phone out to see text messages from Sera asking him how long he would take. He was about to type in a response until he heard you bursting into tears from the bathroom.

“Now what,” he groaned, placing his phone on the bedside table before he hurriedly went to check on you. He didn’t need to open the lights to see your silhouette, hugging your knees in front of the shower as you sobbed. Gojou had to release a weary sigh knowing that he had to deal with you whether he wanted it or not. How could a person go through so many phases of being drunk? You had a broad spectrum in that aspect—going from being an angry drunk to an emotional drunk, Satoru knew he was bound to see more later on. “Stop crying and hop off the shower.”

You sniffed, chest heaving while your tears cascaded down on your face the same way the shower rained on you like waterfall. “Wh-What’s wrong with me?” Gojou halted on his footsteps as he listened. “I-I know I’m not that p-pretty, but… is it really hard to love me?”

He wasn’t planning on staying, but hearing you cry had his feet stuck on the bathroom floor because he couldn’t outright admit how easily he could get swayed by tears. Seeing you cry during your first night back in Iceland was already difficult to go through, and now hearing you voice out your pain made Gojou’s heart a tad bit soft. He didn’t want to lose his cold demeanor towards you, but his guilt would eat him alive if he didn’t warm up even just for tonight.

“Who says you’re not pretty?”

“My husband… he doesn’t look at me when I talk.” There was undeniable pain behind your slurred words that possibly came from your deepest feelings. They said drunk people speak the most sober thoughts. Alcohol was a truth serum that allowed one’s feelings to pour out from the bottle where it was long kept in. “I’m trying my b-best but he… he’s just…”

“Maybe he has reasons,” he tried to console as much as refused to do things for you. And he would never do things for you, yet he found himself sighing in complete submission as he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped off his pants to join you in the shower. You hardly noticed his presence from behind until he pulled you up by your arm and grabbed the bottle of your vanilla and jasmine body wash. “Let’s get you cleaned up so you can sleep, okay?”

There was no sound that came out of you while you rubbed your eyes, allowing your husband to start rubbing soap all over your back. “What if I just stop caring?” you mused just as Satoru was spreading the suds on your waist and going further down to your buttocks. He could feel the rush of internal panic that overpowered his mind because the thought of you considering that question somehow messed with him. “It’s easier that way. No one would get hurt.”

“You think?” he egged on, turning you around so he could rub the soap on your chest, running his hands around your mounds and gliding the suds down to your stomach. He was doing it as quickly as he could because he would grow a boner just by touching you. “Arms up.”

Like an obedient girl, you did as told and suddenly broke out into fits of giggles. Satoru recognized this phase as the giggling phase, watching as you beamed at him while he cleaned your body. “Your hair’s s-so funny.”

For the next few minutes, Gojou tried his best to clean you up while hearing your series of chuckles that didn’t stop even until he had a towel wrapped around your chest and another one around his waist. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this and he couldn’t exactly explain to himself why he felt such a need to care for you. All he knew was that one night of being a caring husband wouldn’t hurt and he could just go back to being an asshole the next day like you deserved.

“Why are we naked?” you innocently pondered, tugging at the towel around your chest as he carried you to sit on the vanity.

“We’re Adam and Eve,” he dryly answered, reaching for your hair dryer before he started blowing your hair with it. “Too hot?”

You giggled, swinging your dangled legs like a kid. “No, you are.”

Fine, at times like this, you weren’t too bad. Despite the marital situation that made him grow resentment towards you, your soft nature was quite adorable in some ways. He didn’t want to give in to it, but he was lucky that you weren’t as terrible as he thought. A snob, an entitled brat一you had not actually shown these traits while living with him in your domestic household. “Did you get your period yet?”

You answered him by shaking your head, soon holding his wrist with a playful grin. “You can’t give me a baby.”

Confusion was then plastered on his face. “Why not?” he asked, placing the hair dryer down. “Is that a challenge?”

“...No, you just can’t.” You offered him a smile of mischief.

“Yes, I can.” He hoisted you up by carrying you with your legs enclosed around his waist as he walked out of the bathroom in haste. “I’ll make you a mommy, then.”

He could feel your giggles vibrating on his chest while trying to squirm out of his hold as he sat on the corner of the bed, adjusting himself so he could lean his back on the headboard with you on top of him. The lights were off so he couldn’t see your face clearly, but he could discern your womanly figure even through the dark. He soon slipped the towel off your body simultaneously to how he snatched the same cloth around his waist, revealing the boner that he could no longer stop from growing.

Should he still limit his affection this time? The image of you crying in the shower somehow stuck with him and he considered easing up on you tonight and be more affectionate. “Come here,” he pulled you to sit on his crotch, sliding his fingers to play with your clit and palming your entire pussy with gentle strokes. “You think you can ride me right now?”

“W-We’re gonna have sex?” You pressed a hand on his chest, sitting on his shaft and instinctively grinding your folds along his length.

Satoru feathered soft kisses on your neck. “Do you want to?”

You gave a sheepish nod, hiding your blushing face. “Yeah...”

“How much?” he pressed, now trailing his lips along your jawline. “Look at my eyes and tell me you’re a hundred percent sure about this. Tell me you’re even sober enough to remember this. Tell me how much you want me.”

“I am! I want you.” On your own, you left kisses on his neck before you looked at his eyes intently. It was at that moment when he realized that sobriety finally returned to your gaze, and the aching lust was there. “So much,” your answer was full of desire, “...until I’m sore.”

The thought had his lips forming a smirk. “Yes, you will be.” He guided your hips as you coated his throbbing cock with your slick, and while he shouldn’t have been this affectionate, he still ended up squeezing your breasts and pressing his lips on your ear. “You’re gonna give me a baby. Hm?”

Your response was a hum of satisfaction—arms wrapped around his neck before you raised yourself up a bit, allowing your husband to penetrate your entrance when you lowered yourself down. “Nngh!” Gojou could feel how his cock was splitting you open, but he was far too engrossed by how warm and tight you felt around his length. “S-Satoru—!”

He didn’t hold back a moan this time. “Uh—fuck, does that feel good?” Snapping his hips upwards, he watched how your tits pleasingly bounced with every move. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard ‘til you get pregnant.”

“Ah-ah! S-Slow,” you mewled, leaning forward with your palm pushing against the headboard and the other squeezing your own breast to keep it from moving wildly. Shit, Gojou knew he was going crazy at the sight. And he hated himself for it because he had to control just how much he was willing to give you during sex, but his mind and body wanted to go all in. No holds barred. He wanted nothing but to stuff you full with his cum, fucking you all night until your cunt was sore the next morning. It was only recent when he realized how much he actually liked the thought of having a wife to have a sex with, not holding back in making a baby by accident because in the eyes of everyone, this kind of intimacy between a husband and wife was right. You were married after all.

Besides, he was doing you a favor for being the only man that could rightfully give you a child. “You like this position?” he asked, tracing your curves before leaning in to suck your tit. He could hear your titillating moans as he swirled his tongue around your sweet nipple, kneading the other breast with his hand—all while he was rutting his hips into you. “Tell me.”

“Y-Yes!” You arched your back from the immense pleasure that washed over your body. “Mm—Daddy!”

It took one word. One fucking word for Gojou to take a halt from his movements. His eyes widened, his breathing hitched, his whole world paused. How in the goddamn hell did you just manage to make him more aroused than he already was?

“What’d you call me?” he pulled away to look at your grinning face before you attached your lips onto his. The kissing was sloppy and your tongues couldn’t meet in perfect coordination because you were too embarrassed to properly do the job. What your husband did instead was to shift your position by laying you sideways as he got up and knelt between your thighs. He threw one of your leg above his shoulders while positioning his tip back on your entrance, rubbing slit to slit and allowing your sweet pussy to suck his swollen head. “Why’d you drink earlier?”

“I—Aaah!” He buried all of his fat cock at once, desperate to fuck a baby into you when he held your waist in place. “I don’t know.”

In his recent memories, he recalled the way Toji looked at you and felt the need to bring it up. “Why were you talking to that guy?”

“T-Toji is... nice.” Louder cries escaped your lips from the harsher thrusts that your husband gave you. “You’re mean. Very mean.”

While he didn’t like how you called his business rival ‘nice’, he couldn’t exactly disagree when you called him ‘mean’. He chose to simply remain silent throughout your intercourse, focusing on reaching his orgasm as he slammed his cock deeper through your walls. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled him of his needed arousal until he finally felt a coil in his lower abdomen.

As promised, all of his warm load coated your walls and filled you in before he collapsed on top of you. Both of you were panting out of breath as your sweaty bodies were tangled in bed. “Don’t drink without your husband ever again, okay?”

“Okay...” Your eyelids were heavy while you moved to place your head on his chest. “Hug me ‘til I fall asleep, please.”

It felt like you were possessed by a sex goddess last night.

Your head was pounding when you woke up on top of a naked Satoru Gojou who had your waist caged around his arms while deep in slumber. You recalled yourself crying after seeing him with Sera and proceeding to drink with Toji—Oh God! You cringed at the thought, burying your face on the crook of your husband’s neck. Just how embarrassing were you in front of Toji last night?

More importantly, seeing yourself naked and sore on top of a husband gave you flashbacks of your steamy sex. Now that you thought about it, you remembered him saying that he booked a night at the hotel with Sera so how come he still stayed with you throughout the night?

“Ugh,” you groaned, shaking your head and pulling yourself up to look at Satoru’s angelic face. His arctic lashes were even more beautiful in his sleep, making him look twice as heavenly. You couldn’t help but lightly press your lips on the tip of his nose while asking yourself: did you really just do all of those with him? His overflowing affection towards you during your lovemaking must be driven by liquor courage because you couldn’t believe that Gojou was capable of being sweet during intercourse.

The shooting pain in your head forced you to get up and move out of Satoru’s hold as you stumbled to reach for your thin silk robe. You didn’t care if the robe was slightly see-through and you didn’t have any underwear underneath, all you wanted to do was to get a glass of water to ease your headache from last night.

As you headed to the kitchen, you tried to think of how you should act around your husband while terribly hungover. Do you just pretend that nothing happened? Or should you bring up the topic?

You couldn’t stop weighing your options in your head as you grabbed a coffee pod, turning the machine on while hoping that Satoru would allow you more time to think of your next move. Surprisingly, however, the sound of the doorbell awoke you from your trance and led you to the front door in urgency.

The doorbell rung a few times as though the person was impatiently pressing the button. “Coming!” you raised your voice so that they could hear, but blood rushed out of your face when you opened the door to see Sera with tearful eyes, looking at you from head-to-toe in absolute disgust. “Sera—”

“I knew it,” she accused, tears falling from her eyes as she balled her hands into fists. “I thought I could trust you, you liar!”

You desperately shook your head. “I was meant to—”

“Sera.” Gojou’s voice stole both of your attention, seeing how the man was scrambling to pull his sweatshirt down in desperation to get to his lover. Not one second did Satoru’s eyes ever meet yours because Sera was all he cared about. “Let me explain.”

Before he could do so, Sera already ran away while painfully crying her heart out. You were stuck not knowing what to do because you started feeling nausea along with the sudden stabbing pain on your chest.

“Satoru, I...” You held your chest in desperation, but he pushed you out of the way to chase after Sera. “Wait, I’m...”

He turned around, not to show the slightest worry for your current pain, but to spit out words that hurt you a thousand times worse than the physical agony in your heart. “Stop being an attention-seeker,” he accused, thinking that you were faking your chest pains so you could prevent him from chasing his lover. If looks could kill, you would be dead already. “Know your boundaries and leave us alone.”

And as you watched him run after the woman that he loved, even your soul was not spared of the paroxysm of negative emotions that you felt after being hurt countless times by the man that you were supposed to love.

You figured that you could die today and be forgotten in this world with no husband to grieve for his loss because you were never once seen as an important person in his life. No matter how hard you tried, Satoru no longer had space in his heart for you to ever be in—the truth hurts, but lying to yourself would only hurt more.

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#gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x uou #gojo angst #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst

[thehighpriestess1]

Cursed Love

Genre : Angst with Fluff

Pairing : Elder brother Gojo x y/n, Yuji x y/n

Warning : Swearing

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Being born in one of the top jujutsu clan was more of burden than a privilege. Your life would haven been like any other female born in the patriarchal world of jujutsu,But fate seemed to have different plans for you as your elder brother was none other than the strongest sorcerer, Gojo Satoru. Your relationship with gojo was differen than other sibling relationships. Being brought up under gojo meant every rule book was thrown out of the window, He insisted that uou never address him formally, Like him you had no regards for higher ups and their rules and was always pushed by Gojo to explore. You had every freedom on could imagine. When it came to powe you were not far behind, you did not inherit the six eyes but you were far more powerful than most of second years at jujutsu high. So what could go wrong in your life?

You met Yuji Itadori six months ago, Your childhood friend megumi found him on a search for a cursed object, Gojo eventually decided to take him under his wings, When itadori first saw you he could not believe his eyes, you looked just like Gojo, same white hair and face, except your eyes were not covered and he thought they were the most beautiful shade of blue he had ever seen. You become friends quickly because of your friendly and warm nature, and your antics would often leave Megumi and Higher ups with a headache,The only thing worse that one Gojo was Two Gojos. Gojo was glad you found another friend, beneath the surface of your growing friendship with yuji ,Yuji was falling for you and unknown to him you felt the same, so one day after a mission when yuji asked out for a date you said “yes”.

Gojo knew about your date with yuji, you didn’t have to tell him, He didn’t stop you thinking it was a childish crush which would eventually fade away, oh how wrong he was. With each passing day you and yuji got closer to each other, People started noticing that shift in dynamics between you two, This did not go unnoticed by Gojo,Who started sending you two on different missions, even your training schedules were different. But neither of that seemed to work on you, you and Yuji always found time to spend with eachother.

Gojo had had enough and decided to finally have the talk with you.

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“But Satoru, why not?!”

“Because y/n you don’t know what you are going to put yourself through, I do not want to see you get hurt like that”

“He is not going to hurt me, You know it as well as I do, You have never stopped me from doing what wand and you are the one who always told me to follow my heart so why are you asking me to leave Yuji now?!”. Gojo sat on the couch opposite to you, his face not giving out any emotions, you had rarely seen Gojo this way and it was always becuase of higher ups and never because of you, this situatoin, this Gojo was alien to you.

“If i have never stopped from doing anything then you must understand that I have my reason to stop you now, you are my sister for god sake and I do not want to see you get hurt!” Gojo’s voice was loud and stern which sent shivers down your spine. You were terrified and confused but determined to know what was going inside your brother’s mind.

“Is it because he is a vesel?”

“No.”

“Is it because you don’t want me to be near sukuna? Are you scared that he might hurt me?”

“He wouldn’t dare”

“Is it because Yuji is going to get executed?”. How did you know? Who told you? Gojo had made it clear to everyone that you were not to know about the execution. Yuji.. that big mouth!

“Yuji told me the day he asked me to be his girlfriend, I know, So this is the reason why you are asking me to be away from Yuji? Is this why you tried to keep me away from him?”

“You knew about his execution and you still agreed to be his girlfriend?! You are stupid y/n” Gojo laughed at you, He laughed at you!

Tears fell down your cheeks, you never thought your brother ,whom you admired your whole life would be this insensitive towards you. Did he think you were the kind of person who would stop loving someone only because they are going to die?

“Screw you satoru!”, Gojo’s expression turned dark at your words, Gojo has never had to deal with insubordination and now it was coming from his own sister.

“Mind your words y/n I am still your elder brother!”

“You are just like all the higher ups you hate! You are just as insensitive and narrow minded! You say that love is the most twisted curse of it all but don’t you see how happy i am with Yuji?! So what if he is going to get executed? People die all the time, For all I know I might die on a mission before yuji, Does that mean i am not allowed to love? Only becayse Yuji’s death sentence is written it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t deserve to be loved! I know i am going to lose him eventually I am aware of this everyday satoru! You think it doesn’t hurt me knowing that I finally met the guy I love and my time with him is limited? Keeping me away from him is not going to change my feelings! I… I truly love him satoru..I do.. If..When he goes away I will look back on my time with him and know that I loved all I could in the limited time I had with him…” Swallowing the painful lump in your throat you wiped the last remaining tears and walked away…

Gojo sat frozen in his seat, The ever cocky and arrogant sorcerer was at loss of words. He underestimated you, You were not some reckless carefree teenager, You were smart and sensitive.. Gojo sighed and walked towards you room, His hand hoverin gover the door, hesitating to knock.

“You know i can sesnse you outside my room, Go away!”

“Y/n.. I am sorry, I did not know you were aware of the situation and I was only trying to protect you, I did not mean to hurt you, Please open the door”

After moments of silence gojo heard the clickend on door lock and the door opened, You sat on the floow, your back resting against the bed, Gojo took his seat next to you and wrapped his arms around you, “ I am sorry y/n”

“I don’t want to lose him satoru..I really don’t..”

“I know mochi..” Gojo said pressing a soft kiss on top of your head.

“I am not going to apologise to you”, Gojo chuckled at your words, You were his sister undoubtedly.

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to leave Yuji. I promise I will do my best to protect him for you?”, You looked up at him, He meant what he said, You know it was going to be a tough thing to do but you had faith in your brother.

“Thank you Satoru”, You laid your head on his chest, no infinity around him.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Next day you woke up to sounds of laughter coming from your livng room, You walked outside to see Gojo and Yuji sitting around the coffee table and laughing.

“My mochi is up!”, Yuji turned to look at you and smiled.

“What are you doing here?”, You said looking at Yuji.

“Gojo sensie called me to come over for a mission”

“Mission?” You looked at Gojo who had a smile on his face.

“It is Mission disney land! You see Yuji ,my mochi here was really mad at me yesterday so to make it upto her i have decided that you would take her to disneyland, I have already booked the tickets and the car is ready for you leave”. Both you and Yuji were too stunned to speak. You ranupto your brother and hugged him as tight as he could. Yuji looked at you two in awe. He got to spend a whole day with you!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“Soo y/n your pet name is mochi?” Yuji said trying to control his laughter.

“Shut up Yuji or else I will hollow purple your existence”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

#gojo satoru #itadori #yuji itadori #gojo angst #yuji angst #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk x y/n #yuji x y/n #yuji x you #yuji x reader #yuji fluff #gojo fluff #satoru fluff #fushiguro megumi #angst fic #tumblr fic #request #fanfiction

[writteninkat]

Eaten by hand | Sukuna x Reader

w/c: 1.6k

warning: voyeurism, overstimulation, public sex, degradation

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After getting to know Yuji, you've always accepted how the King of Curses was going to pop out at random times and usually at ungodly hours, being the number one menace to society he is.

Forcing Yuji to drag you to a carnival in the midst of studying for your exams? Check. Embarrassing you in the carnival? Check.

Connecting the dots regarding your feelings for the pink-haired boy? Check. Teasing you about it while your friend is passed out inside his own body? Check.

The curse once popped out in the middle of the two of you leaning in for what was supposed to be a passionate first kiss. The second you saw the marks appear all over his face, your hand instinctively slapped him across the face.

Yes, Sukuna is an annoying bitchass curse who doesn't know how to read the room. Sometimes he does and only ignores it because vibes.

He's ninety-five percent menace to society and to you, but that other five percent makes you have doubts. It makes you wish only five percent of him makes you want to pull a Gojo Satoru on him.

"I heard this movie is good. Even Megumi said so." Yuji sits on his designated seat with you tailing right behind him. The cinema gives you some sort of relaxing vibe; it's dark, cool, the seats are comfortable and there's food. What else could you ask for?

Your introverted self picked your seats, placing uou at the very back corner of the cinema. Not the best seats, but they are the most quiet and private parts—they give you a chance to cuddle up to your boyfriend to stay warm.

The lights dim slowly until the entire room is completely dark before the movie begins and the sound systems envelope you into a completely different world of amazing angles and poreless actors and actresses.

It's when you feel a hand slowly creeping up your thigh that you're snapped out of your daze. You turn to the side, looking at your boyfriend who's too immersed in the movie.

He probably did it unintentionally.

You shrug it off and return your eyes at the screen before feeling his fingers tickle at the soft skin of the insides of your thighs. Your eyes turn swiftly to your left, heart dropping to your stomach at the sight of familiar curse marks all over your boyfriend's face and arms.

He has a devilish smug smirk on his face, bored, half-lidded eyes staring up at the movie.

Sukuna.

He continues to creep his hand up, underneath your skirt until his fingers press against your cotton panties. Your thighs trembled on the padded seat as your hands clenched at the cup holders on either side of your chair.

"Push my hand away." Sukuna speaks up, his tone deep and dark—a complete contrast to your boyfriend's usual bubbly voice. He presses his thumb against the folds of your pussy, sneaking the finger underneath your underwear.

"Push me away and I'll stop."

You swallow thickly, breaking out in cold sweat as upur breathing slowly turned uneven. Your hips are moving little by little on their own as you try to get more friction. "Y-you know I can't do that." You hiss.

"You can't?" Sukuna chuckles, "More like you don't want to." He takes his thumb out before inserting his entire hand inside your panties, cupping your cunt in his warm palm.

A loud gasp forces your hand to come flying onto your mouth, clamping it shut to muffle out any sounds that threatened to leave your throat.

It's just his hand. This is fine. I'll be fine. I'll be just fi—

A wet, warm, slipper muscle rubs up against your folds, teasing to enter your dripping cunt. Your eyes widen and immediately face Sukuna with a glare. His eyes are still on the screen, as if he isn't using his nth mouth and tongue to assault your sex right now.

Your whole body feels like it's burning despite the cold room. As Sukuna's hand-mouth sucks and bites at your sensitive cunt, your fingertips dig at your cheeks, a weak attempt to shut yourself up.

Your free hand flies on the curse's wrist, gripping on it tightly and keeping it in place at the feeling of an orgasm about to wash over you. The stimulation may have clouded your head a bit, and your thighs may be shaking but you don't miss the smell of musk and strong strawberries wash over you like a cloud.

Sukuna had leaned over at you, the corner of his lips flicked upwards into a smirk. "Close?"

You breathe deeply through your nose as you glared up at him, "Fucking asshole." You grit your teeth, but your attempt to intimidate or at least scare the King of Curses proved to be a weak one.

The pink-haired man grins sadistically before you feel something pinch at your clit. Your eyes widened and your nails dug onto his skin, leaving red cresents all over his wrists as your orgasm is forced out on you.

Your thighs clenched together and your toes curled in the satisfaction of getting off. The clouds in your head are lifted up and you feel yourself in some sort of high before your date is pushing the hand rest between the both of you upwards, keeping nothing in between the both of you.

He grabs at your thigh and pulls you towards him, resting your left thigh on his legs as he pushes your right away, forcing you in such a lewd and presented position.

"We still have the rest of the movie to watch. I want a detailed summary of what we watched as soon as we get back home." He whispers into your ear, tongue softly lapping over the shell, teasing you.

He hooks two fingers at your panties, pulling it over to the side, exposing your wet pussy. He presses two fingers against your clit, causing you to jump at the feeling just after cumming.

"Wait–wait Sukuna, I just came—" He begins moving his two fingers in circles, cutting you off as he raises an unbothered brow as if asking so what?

You lift your thighs up in the air as your back archs, your hand flying over to cup and dig your nails at the back of his shoulder. "One peep and someone could see how much of a slut you are right now." He growls in your ear.

"Your pussy feels so wet, so fucking slippery. You like my fingers?" Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your mind clouds up once again. You find yourself nodding quietly at the king's question. "Yeah? You like 'em more than my cock?"

When you don't answer, he pinches at your hard bud, ripping a gasp out of your mouth. "Answer me you fucking whore."

"I—I just—" Your eyes scanned frantically all over his face, looking for the answer, an answer, anything! "Both... I like them both..." You whisper under your breath.

Sukuna seems content with your answer and lets go of his hold on your clit. When you turn your head back towards the screen, your body is falling over to the side and before you know it, you're laying on the free seat beside yours.

"If you wanted my cock, you could've just said so, princess." There's that smug grin again—an expression you can't doubt looks amazing on him. You look down at where he's fondling, eyebrows raising in surprise at the sight of him whipping his cock out.

The first time you saw it, you thought you were imagining the black lines that ran down the sides of his cock. Right now, the room was too dark for you to clearly see them, but you were sure they were there.

He lines the head against the middle of your folds, letting out a kight chuckle before pushing himself inside you. Your lips part and your jaw hangs, your mouth forming into an O but no sound comes out.

Sukuna keeps pushing himself inside you, easily slipping inside from how wet you've gotten. He doesn't stop until his hips are pressing against the backs of your thighs.

The air has been knocked out of you and it takes you a few minutes to start breathing again. The feeling of being so full of Sukuna's cock, the overwhelming stimulation that's making your velvety walls clench all over his length the same way they did a while ago, has you on cloud 9.

"Cumming already?" Sukuna scoffs before thrusting once. Your body–especially your legs, tremble at the feeling of sensitivity. He thrusts again, and again, and again, and tears begin to pool at the corners of your eyes. Your body feels so weak and powerfless underneath him, every nerve inside you feels like they're being electrecuted.

"Sensitive!" You whsiper-yell, "I'm so fucking sensitive, so fucking sensitive, Sukuna!" You cry out silently but your whimpers go ignored by the curse as he continues thrusting inside you. Until your fingertips are burning, until the sweat on your skin has dried and have been replaced with a new layer of sweat, and until he came.

Warm, white liquid fills your walls as your body grows limp on the cinema seats. The king pulls out, tucking his dick back inside his pants before pulling at you to sit you back up.

You walls clenched around nothing in sensitivity and your toes curl at the uncomfortable feeling of your date's seed slowly seeping out of you. You feel wet, gross and tired.

"I wanna go home." You pout, looking up at the King who pays you no mind as he continues to watch the movie. "Be patient. We're half way through the movie already."

"But—"

Sukuna glares at your from the side, red eyes glowing in the dark. His movements are quick, his hand is suddenly grabbing your cunt making you hiss at how sensitive your sex is.

"Be patient before I let everyone here fuck you."

#to: moredannymals #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #itadori x reader #itadori x y/n #itadori x you #itadori fluff #sukuna fanfic