Hi So If I Ever Talk About Making Everyone's Christmas Gifts Again Next Year, I Need Someone To Grab

"life spring"

— gojo satoru

tags ට lite somno (consensual), praise kink, pussy job, riding, vanilla and full of so much love its gross, morning sex, lowkey sub satoru, established marriage, fix it fic of sorts

a/n ට i listened to hozier the entire time i wrote this. so thats how you guys know im serious about the vanilla sex.

───⠀౨ৎ this is the married life that gojo deserves and it's his and sometimes he can't believe its all real. (1.4k wc)

the room glows like pure gold, spun from the sun's waves.

its warm and it smells like home and satoru's eyes blink open slowly before shutting again. there are other colors too ; pretty cherry blossom pinks, hazy greens and blue the color of the sea. a gift from the first years — from nobara in particular. it's supposed to mimic stained glass.

satoru wants to cling to his dream for a moment longer. a boat, rocking gently at sea. you and your smile as you took turns pushing each other overboard. but the fuzzy feeling is lifting and faster by the second.

a bird cries and sings its morning song. satoru opens his eyes and grins.

the first thing he always sees when he wakes up is you. whether thats when your curled up under his chin like you want to burrow up under your skin. or if its like now—with your face inches away from his, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, grinding down on his cock.

satoru reaches out to pull you down, and breathes your name against your lips. not quite kissing, just breathing the same air. bucks up once and twice, smiling at your cheeky grin. like you aren't more undone than he is.

"'morning, satoru" you giggle, kissing him finally, sounding breathless.

his fingers find your waist, secretly delighting in your bareness. hums appreciatively as your weeping cunt rocks down against his cock—fully hard now. "its a very good morning"

he has no shame at all in admitting he loves this—loves when you take charge. when you go for what you want. you had spent so long being meek, trying to blend into the background. hoping to fade away. but you've come into your own, and satoru likes to think he's apart of that. how he gives you the stability, the comfort, to chase what you're after.

"did you cum yet?" satoru asks, fingers tracing shapes into your skin.

you shake your head, lip caught between your teeth. but you know to keep your eyes open—focused completely on him.

"that's my good girl" satoru says, proud. you let out a shaky whine, pace faltering. "my pretty wife, so wet for me"

your hands come down to frame his chest, nails pretty against his skin as your hips grind in tight little circles that have him groaning out. and then your hand grabs his dick—holding him right where you want him, oh god—grinding more firmly against your clit.

"that's what you needed baby? needed my dick, didn't you?" satoru asks, like you both don't already know the answer. pleasure zips up his spine as your movements grow faster, sloppier. the pressure's enough to keep him on the edge, enough to make him feel like he could cum, maybe—but doesn't. it's the best. his hand rubs your back, moves your hair out of your eyes. "i don't mind sweetheart, its your dick. my hot, perfect wife"

you sob, muscled thighs trembling as you chase your high. your nails dig into his chest and he knows your searching for it now—the perfect stroke that'll finally make you cum.

"my perfect sorcerer wife is so strong" satoru whispers, gently caressing your stomach. "so beautiful. i'm so lucky. you gonna cum soon aren't you, baby? gonna cum messy too?"

you nod, another broken sob falling from your lips, fractured uh-uh-huhhh, satoru. you change your angle, and suddenly the wet sounds of your pussy sliding against his cock fill the room.

"yeah," he says, nodding, a wistful sigh leaving his lips. "can you hear yourself baby, hear how fucking wet and sloppy you are?"

and that's what does it for you—slumping down into his neck with a wail, as you take his hand and lead it down to your cunt. he knows what you want immediately, rubbing you fast and hard as you cum.

"you did so good," he says, sticking his fingers into his mouth to suck off the taste. your hips shake and quiver with the intensity of your orgasm. you don't answer for a long minute, and he can feel the soft puffs of air against his skin.

"hi" you breathe, finally, smiling at him

"hi" he says back, like a dork. you snuggle in closer, fingers brushing up softly against his cheek. satoru smiles and briefly closes his eyes. he can feel the smile breaking out onto his face, impossible to stop. never did he think he could be here, and have this : softness, laughter and smiles. peace.

"mm, and what are you laughing at?" you ask, leaning up on one elbow.

satoru opens his eyes. grins cheekily. "you. i was thinking your head looked like a raisin"

your mouth opens and closes in disbelief. the hand that been so gently caressing his face moments ago pinches his cheek sharply. and then you get that familiar mischievous look in your eye.

"no wait—" he protests, far too late. you descend upon him, jabbing your fingers into his sides, and his stomach and the side of his neck—where he is most ticklish. satoru writhes on the bed, loud peals of laughter bursting from him as he tries every yielding term in the book.

"oh yeah not so funny now is it?" you goad, although the sound of his laughter drowns you out.

"okay, okay, okay—"

a loud thud, and satoru falls of the bed and crashes to the floor in a heap of too-long limbs.

"oh shit" you mutter, and he doesn't need six eyes to tell him that you're covering your mouth with your hand to hide your laughter. you lean over the edge of the bed, eyes crinkling in the corner. age has done well by you. "baby, are you okay?"

"i think i broke my back" satoru groans, and massages his lower back to nail the point in further. "i'm getting so old"

"oh please" you snort, rolling your eyes, "you're only 39"

"that means i already have one foot in the grave!"

you roll your eyes again, pulling him up on the bed. "yes, you old old man. practically dead already"

"its been a good run" satoru says dramatically, tossing his head back onto the pillow. "i'm going to die happy now. 10 long years married to the love of my life"

"mmm" you hum, noncommittally, reaching over to feel up on his cock. his back straightens and he gets hard again embarrassingly fast. "do you think you have enough life left to handle me riding you?"

satoru pretends to think about it, massaging your right tit, slightly smaller than the left—fitting so perfectly into his hand. "try not to squeeze my soul out of my body and we're good"

"good," you say, settling on top of him again "i want you in me"

"fuck—baby, you can't just—" satoru gasps, as you breach yourself with his cock in one hard thrust. all coherent thought tumbles from his mind, gone with the wind, when he feels your warm cunt flutter around him and then squeeze. "you're doing that on purpose"

"am i?" you ask cheekily, smirking, riding him hard and fast. your ass smacks down against his thighs loudly, and when he dares to look at the place where the two of you are connected—he sees the ring of white around the base and has to screw his eyes shut to stop himself from cumming. he groans, tossing his head back, arm shielding his face from view.

ten years, and he still has to fight from busting his load the minute you get your cunt around him. ten years and he still keens, still mumbles shaky gasps and praises into the air. hands squeezing delicately around your hips, occasionally going to cup your ass—to help you along.

not that you need it. you grind down, hand massaging and squeezing at his pecs, as your go in tight circles around his dick. then you rise back up, letting him slip all the way out before slamming back down again.

you lean down next to his ear, taking his lobe between your teeth and biting gently. "baby?"

"y-yeah?" satoru asks, voice high, thrusting up into your tight heat in short aborted pumps of his hips. "you need something from me?"

"mmm" you moan in affirmation and he can feel you smiling against his cheek. "i want you to cum in me now"

satoru's grip on your hips turns bruising. he holds you still and shoves his dick into you over and over again, loud in the silent room. so good he can't think, broken praises and curses spilling from his lips. he brings you down and slams up into you one last time before doing exactly what you ask of him.

・♱・ "DEVIL MAY CRY...!"

jujutsu kaisen

| not yet written 4 :: nanami, geto, choso, shoko, megumi, maki, yuuta, nobara, toge

| written 4 :: sukuna, gojo, yuuji

bnha

| not yet written 4 :: izuku, bakugo, kirishima, denki, shouto, tenya, tomura, aizawa

| written 4 :: dabi, hawks

attack on titan

| not yet written 4 :: eren, armin, mikasa, erwin, levi, jean, zeke, reiner, ymir

hq !!

| not yet written 4 :: daichi, suga, tsukishima, kageyama, bokuto, akaashi, kuroo, kenma, kita, oran, osamu, suna, sakusa, ushijima, tendou, oikawa, iwaizumi, mattsun, kyotani

| written 4 :: atsumu

tlou

| not yet written 4 :: ellie, joel, dina

| written 4 :: abby

arcane

| not yet written 4 :: ambessa, sevika, mel, jayce, viktor, vi

yuji needs a cutie gf to match his cutie energy and then they make everyone around them physically sick with how cute they are

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

PLS HE LOOKS SO CUTE!!!!!! BABY YUJI IS MY BELOVED

fairy tale / myth retelling au's my beloved <3

What are your favorite underrated aus? Mine are mythology aus, especially Greek mythology aus

social anxiety on TUMBLR of all things

𖦹 WHO HAVE I REMEMBERED? ⇆ touya "dabi" todoroki

┆︎summary ┆︎you find that love can create curses the same way they dismantle them.

┆︎tags┆︎the frog prince au, came back wrong trope, princess reader, prince turned usurper touya, obsessive behavior, survivor's guilt, stockholm syndrome, fade to black sex

┆︎wc┆︎5.1k

┆︎an┆︎my entry for @ljubimaya 's grim nightmares collab ! and special thanks to ethel cains new album for getting me through this. i tried something new with the formatting/writing style cause i wanted to go with discordant storytelling so let me know how you guys like that.

null.

the court whispers that you and your sisters―the kings daughters, were born from the wishes of faeries. and you, the eldest, even more so. what other way could it be explained, besides magic? that the sun kissed your cheeks each morning when it rose, and the world seemed more bleak when you were not around.

you, only short of eleven years, pay little attention to this. in fact, you pay little attention to anything that does not interest you. and lately―your latest obsession is the well outside of the castle gates.

in order to sneak away from your guards and your servants, you don a simple frilled hood and sneak through the passage-ways of the dungeon. and in the palms of your hands is your treasured ball, golden and full of sparkling light. a gift from your mother―who passed giving birth to your youngest sister.

the well reminds you of your mother, you think. and maybe that is why it entrances you so. you sit on it now, half an hour later. the stone is cool and slightly wet, where it touches slivers of bare skin. you toss the golden ball up and catch is easily in your hands. the forest is awake, but not yet bursting with energy. the birds sing their morning songs and occasionally you can hear a shrub rustle in the distance. a rabbit or dear, most likely.

it's soft, but you can hear it. the water inside the well bobbing along.

your mother had been obsessed with water. the ocean, lakes and rivers. she sketched and painted it all of the time. you never understood what was so captivating about them. only that her pieces of art were as beautiful as she had been. as miserable, and bleak, too.

the next toss of your golden ball is much higher, spurned from the strength of escaping thoughts of your deceased mother. you watch as it soars into the air, bright even against the blue sky. it comes hurtling down just as fast and you hold out your hands to catch it. the ball skims past your fingertips and you seem to watch it all in slowed motion as it lands deep within the well with a plop!

you move quickly, bracing your hands over the edge of the well with a gasp. but the well is too dark and much too deep for you to even begin to see to the bottom. even your ball, golden and bright, is swallowed up by its darkness. the tears prick up along your waterline, trickling down your brown cheeks in slow, steady streams before bursting into full-flamed sobs.

you cry and wail, kicking at the side of the well. your fists beat down on the stones and your grief chokes you. your fingers scrape against its surface, taking the moss underneath your nails.

"princess? what's wrong?" a voice calls out, approaching from your left. you turn towards the voice, staring into the face of an impassive young boy. he has a head of shock white hair, blue eyes that seem to stare so hard that they pass through you.

you don't like it. not one bit. you wipe your tears determinedly with the puffed sleeve of your gown, gesturing towards the well.

"i am crying because my golden ball fell in the stupid well" you explain, eyes narrowing with anger as you glare once more at the well. "it was a gift from my mother. i need it"

"i'll get it for you" the boy offered, staring between you and the well in equally unnerving moments.

you scoff, though the boy's foolish gesture warms you anyway. "don't be an idiot. it's gone f-forever. the well is too deep for anyone to go down. especially you, you're too small"

"i can" the boy stresses, which such conviction that it makes you pause. he relaxes the tense line of his shoulders and stares at you for a while longer. you don't know why you feel so inclined to believe him. he's a stranger, and dressed plainly. "for a price"

"whatever you want" you promise, not really thinking about it. your eyes drift to the well. you're going to get your ball back. "how about fancy clothes? pretty gems? a feast thrown in your honor? you can have it all, if you can get my ball back for me"

the boy frowns. "i do not want any of that. i want you to marry me. if you give me your hand, then i will go and get your ball for you"

"alright. fine" you acquiesce, shrugging one shoulder and without so much of another word, the boy jumps into the well. alarmed, you yell out for him, peering over the edge into the dark abyss.

moments later, your ball soars into the air and lands beside your feet with a thud.

one.

your father says socializing is perhaps the most important duty of a princess. engaging with the members of the court, with the nobles―all to find a good match. at just shy of sixteen years, you only care to socialize for the sole purpose of dressing up. spending days on selecting the perfect gown, the shoes to match. the art of your maids styling your hair, applying the gentlest forms of makeup upon your face. coming home to your castle after a long day, just to repeat the process again the next week.

unlike your younger sisters, you thrive at court life. the dancing, the rules of conversation, you understand it all. some part of you likes the attention. the boys who throw themselves at your feet, pushing at one another to please you. it fills your mind with a sense of power, of control.

you press your gloved palm to a lords, a smile dancing on your face as he whisks you across the floor. the music carries you and the lord―unnamed because you care not to know, fluttering from the tips of your toes into the smallest hair on the crown of your head.

the lord begins to pull you in. there's a curly mustache on top of his lip. his hand hovers along the small of your back, prepared to dip you, maybe. you never get a clear conclusion to his actions, because touya is wrenching him away from you.

his blue eyes are narrowed in anger. he heaves a breath, and one scathing look in the lords direction is enough to send the grown man scattering away.

"touya" you whine petulantly, in the middle of the ballroom floor. people turn their heads, sparing you only a glance before tearing away again. they know better than to interrupt the crown prince. and you should know better than to invoke his wrath like this. "that's not fair, i was dancing―"

"his hands were all over you" touya interjects, hissing the words at you. his white hair has been combed neatly and his hands shake when they reach out for you. you allow the movement, and the dance begins anew. touya seems to be replacing the lords hands with his own, touching the small of your back, palms pressed together.

"we're not married yet" you remind him cheekily, letting him spin you around before you're pulled in close once more. your eyes catch on his doublet, the intricate pattern work in his house colors. your dress, empire waist with elegant beadwork has been done to mirror his as well. "father still has to accept your proposal, in fact" its wrong to tease him, you know it is. but you can't help it.

"he will" touya hisses again. his hand tightens around your waist. he's so horribly endearing when he's angry, like a hissing kitten. the crown prince is close to you in age, a year older. where most people are afraid to anger him, fearing his wrath―you can only imagine him being that same fool hearted boy who leaped head first into a well to retrieve your ball for you.

but it is perhaps the wrong thing to say after all, because the crown prince takes one final glance at your smiling face and roughly pulls you from the floor. you protest, trying to pull away. touya only tightens his grip and drags you further into the darkened halls outside of the ballroom.

"touya―mmpfh!" the prince pushes you into one of the rooms, shutting the door behind him with his foot. he presses you against and swallows the sound of his name on your lips with a searing kiss. one of his hands braces against the door behind your head and the other remains possessively on your hip. he brings up one hand briefly to cup your chin, moving your head to deepen the kiss.

you've kissed him before. mostly chaste little things, sweet presses of your mouths together when the two of you are alone. but nothing like this. the way touya kisses you now feels like ownership, devouring your mouth and restricting your movements, knee pushing between your skirts.

his tongue swipes against the seam of your lips. you open them obediently, to which you've earned a gentle caress on your hip, and his tongue twines with yours.

touya pulls away string of saliva connecting your mouths as he stares down at you. you pant, trying to catch your breath―unable to hide the sound that escapes you when he pushes his face into your neck, pressing biting sharp kisses there as well.

your betrothed stops sucking a mark into your neck long enough to bite out the words, "you are my wife, i won't share you. not with anyone." drunk in it you nod along, hand squeezing his shoulders as arousal settles in the bottom of your stomach, new and foreign. "say it."

"i-i'm your wife" you whine into a series of kisses. you aren't married yet. your father is still thinking on the betrothal. he could reject it at any time. he could be rejecting it right now.

touya's hand slides under your skirts, pressing against heated skin, and that doubting little voice falls quiet.

two.

the wedding will go on, no matter your conflicting feelings on it.

it feels too soon. touya died only two years ago. you loved him. it feels wrong to marry someone else. every inch of you is pulling you towards someone you cannot have. you need more time. yet you say nothing, as your maids usher you from the tub into a warm towel. they scrub at your skin, drying the water from your flesh.

the war has just ended. there on the throne, on touya's throne―sits an usurper. your father's people, your people, they have lost loved ones. women who have lost their husbands, much like you have. children, without fathers. resources that are scarce and dwindling. and yet your father thinks a marriage will united the kingdom.

play your part, your father had said. what the people need now is something to make them happy. you stare bitterly into your reflection as the maids bring out the wedding gown. the one you were supposed to be wed in, when you were going to be wed to touya―that one had been destroyed. you don't even want to look at this one. it is like everyone is trying to take his memory from you.

you screw your eyes shut as the dress is pulled onto your frame. lace and tulle scratch against your brown skin. you want to claw out of yourself desperately. to be anyone else.

the maids murmur quietly amongst themselves. you are a vision, they say. you can hide no longer, and your eyes must open. you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror and you hate what you see. its not the dress you would have chosen. you look mature and wise, elegant beyond your years. you look nothing like the girl who chased touya through the gardens, tumbling with him on the grasses.

you look like a queen―regal. you do not look like the girl touya kissed under the moonlight as he held your hand. your hand comes up to your neck absentminded, searching for the ring he had given you, dangling on pure silver. it is not there, you realize a moment too late, and your hand connects with the smooth bare skin there instead.

your eyes slide over to the chest, where you have kept it safe since the night prior. it isn't wise to marry a man with a ring of another around your throat. even you know that.

but still, each step towards your husband-to-be feels traitorous. all eyes are on you, and the wedding march plays and all you can think about is how much you want to run away. but you are a coward, so all you do is keep your head straight as you continue down the aisle of the cathedral.

the priest begins with the ceremony. your heart feels like lead in your stomach and a feeling of pure dread encompasses you. your fingers shake from where they are wrapped around the stem of the bouquet. the man you are to marry stands across from you, smile on his face.

there is nothing to be joyous about. your husband turns that smiling gaze towards you now, and you feel the priests eyes on you as well. you open your mouth to prepare to speak your vows. your voice is hushed and you have to clear your throat softly to try again.

the sounds of men yelling outside wash over the quiet cathedral. several heads turn towards the doors, you among them. there are more shouts and moments later the doors burst open.

even from where you stand, you know by the glint of silvery steel on his helm that this man is the usurper. the man is followed by a small group of armed men as they charge into the cathedral. one of your own knights unsheathes his blade at your fathers command, and you can do nothing but stand there are more blades are uncovered―glinting in the morning light.

you swallow a gasp as the usurper cuts down the knight, spraying blood and viscera among the guests, making his way towards you determinedly. the cathedral is thrown into disarray as the usurper and his men charge, cutting down those who stand in their way. you throw down your bouquet, cursing the tightness of the dress that doesn't allow you much movement at all―trying to flee.

the usurper reaches you, pulling you towards him. several men hold your husband, and even if you did not want to marry him, you bear no ill-will towards him. and when he stabbed through the chest, you cry out for him all the same. the usurper turns towards you once more and he stares at you―you know he is, you can feel it even with the helm obscuring his face.

"let me go! let me go, let me, stop touching me!" you shout, fists pounding against the chest of the usurper. you fight against him, scratching and squirming. though you might as well be kicking mere pebbles against him, with the way he doesn't move. tears cloud your vision and soon your fight wears out of you.

without a word, the usurper reaches forwards―gripping your arm far too gently as he takes the ring from your finger and tosses it among the remains of your husband with a scathing growl.

"i wont' share you" the usurper says, voice gravelly and rough as recognition dawns on you. your eyes widen, and the usurper drags you to the front doors.

"touya?" you ask, eyes glistening with fresh tears. the usurper stiffens but does not answer you.

though, not answering is answer enough.

three.

he insists that you call him dabi, now. the name fills your mouth with bile and so you refuse. he is touya―you have to believe that the man who stands before you now is your touya. he is still yours. sour and mercurial. the touya that loves you deeply, that loves you purely. dabi is the one who yells, who accuses you of horrible things―of abandoning him. who tells you that this, the life you live now, is your fault.

the ballroom carries on in merry feasting. everyone present seems to be wholly engrossed in dancing, in the meal. no one pays much attention to the usurper king and his wife. or perhaps, they are all like you―pretending that nothing has changed.

touya's arm leans across your chair, draping over your shoulder. it is a miracle that you do not shudder when his fingers dance along the skin of your jaw. his mouth presses close to your ear and you can feel him gently playing with the neckline of your wedding dress. "are the festivities not to your liking?" he inquires, whispering. this time, you do shudder.

"i-i'm content" you reply, swallowing your nerves. you can feel the way touya continues to stare at you. a month ago, still new to your life here as the usurpers wife―you tried everything you could to rebel. you refused to eat, scratched at him every time he came near.

and one morning, he had the chefs prepare your favorite. fluffy pancakes, drowning in sticky syrup. sliced fruit and yogurt on the side. a tall glass of chilled orange juice, free of pulp. again―you had refused the meal. dabi had leaned over you on the bed, gently cupping your cheek.

"is it not to your liking, wife?" he had asked, always with the wife. as if he was making up for lost time. but to you, it only felt like a reminder of your place beside him. you had stubbornly shook your head and moments later dabi had the chefs brought into your chambers and slain.

you do not doubt for a second that dabi would have every noble in this room slain if he felt like it, guided by twisted morals. you don't want anyone else to die for you. you don't want him to kill anyone else. "i'm happy, touya" you say once more, plastering a smile onto your face. you force yourself to look at him―the scars and the charred flesh. his hair, dyed black now. the soullessness of his blue eyes.

moments of silence pass. you play with your hands in your lap, anxious as you wait for his visible displeasure to pass. touya continues to stare at you, and without another word, he stands.

fear washes over you. he stares down at you, eyes roving over your face. "we're to retire for the night, my dear" he says, sounding almost like touya again as he helps you from your chair. you know what's to come.

guards are posted up and down the halls, spears raised and at the ready. each nods in your direction, acknowledging their king and queen. touya moves steadily forwards getting closer to your shared chambers.

you had caved once, earlier in the week, and asked one of your elder servants how her first time had gone. her hair was graying and you knew she must have a had a child already. she did not answer you, not immediately, braiding down your hair.

"it's going to hurt" she told you, staring down at you pityingly "men do not understand that they have to be gentle, for a maidens first time. you have to relax and let the worst of it pass"

touya's mouth claims yours the moment you two are alone. it feels invasive, like he's trying to crawl into your body from your mouth and stay there. you try to kiss him back, but he dominates the kiss so easily, moving you this way and that. his hands deftly undo the buttons on the back of your wedding gown, pressing fevered kisses to your neck once the slope of skin is exposed to him.

"there is not a single woman in the world who compares to you" touya whispers, pushing you down onto the bed gently. his eyes meet yours in the dim lighting as he kneels before you. his hands undo the straps of your shoes, lightly massaging your foot, then your calf and then up to your knee. "in beauty, in grace. i have lived my entire life in your image, and i will continue to do so still. you have entranced me mind, body and soul"

he is reciting his vows to you, you realize somewhat dazedly, as he pushed the gown from your shivering frame. clad in only your undergarments, the air chills you. his teeth nip at a sensitive part of your throat, pulling a meek sound from your lips.

touya's hands hover above your body before slowly touching the bare skin of your legs. he kisses you once more, humming into it as his hands caress flesh. like he can't quite believe you're real. you've never been touched like this before, and your stomach curls when his hands skirt around your pelvis.

his hair tickles the skin just underneath your breasts. you look down when you feel his face pressing into your stomach. touya groans, loudly. "you're so soft" he whispers, nearly feverish with it. you don't know what to say to that, so you say nothing. his face presses further into your skin and he smells you, groaning again―like he's trying to push past the layer and live in your bones instead. even that level of closeness may not be close enough for him, you realize with slight horror.

"like vanilla" touya murmurs, hooking two of his scarred fingers over your underwear and slowly pulling them down your legs. touya's gunmetal blue eyes are focused onto your cunt, like a predator right before it strikes. blindly, touya brings the silken garment to his nose before he tucks your underwear into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"you can't―!" you protest in embarrassment, squeezing your legs together as shame fills you. you only realize entirely too late that this does nothing but expose more of your privates to him, and before you can try to shift your position, touya is pulling your legs apart once more.

touya dances his pointer down the length of your inner thigh, and then once more. he drags it down from your hooded clit to your entrance. "so pretty" he murmurs. the attention causes you to shiver and in return, touya finally looks up to face you. "are you a maiden?" he asks, as if he does not already know the answer.

"touya―" you reply, nearly whiny. his fingers continue to trace your outer lips, and them pushing them aside to drift between your folds.

"dabi" touya corrects sternly, but doesn't bother saying anything more on that subject, too engrossed in playing with you. "answer me."

you can feel yourself getting wet. it is the single most embarrassing thing in the world. you don't know if its his tone of voice, the way touya plays with you―somehow both nonchalant and obsessive about being in-between your legs. "y-yes. i'm untouched"

not truly. there was that time at the ball. but touya had used only his fingers, bringing you to completion quickly. you wonder if he can even remember it.

"do you touch yourself?" a shake of your head. touya presses more insistently, grazing them along your sensitive nub as he stares at your face for a reaction. "with words" a harder press and this time a tiny sound escapes you, hardly above a gasp and your cunt throbs, clenching around nothing.

"i haven't" you answer dutifully, voice shaky as another gasps escapes you. "please-"

touya laughs. it sounds cruel and condescending all at once. he brings those eyes back up to your face. "do you even know what your asking for?"

your thighs press together. you don't. touya knows you don't.

"i thought not" touya chuckles, spreading your legs once more. he drags you none too gently down the length of your bed, and settles his lower half against it. his fingers continue their gentle petting, mouth placing little kisses against your inner thighs that have you squeezing your eyes shut as more slick pools from your cunt.

"but that's alright, isn't it?" he asks, and you open your mouth to speak when you realize that he isn't talking to you. touya licks a broad stroke up your cunt, pulling a little squeal from your lips before drawing back to kiss your clit. "you just need your husband to figure everything out for you, don't you sweetheart?"

four.

"i could get in so much trouble for this" you say, as touya helps you cross over a path of stones. you hold your skirts up in your hands as he guides you along. "if my father finds out i've left, it could ruin my reputation"

"why do you need a reputation?" touya replies, looking at you with a perplexed expression―like he really can't understand the concept. it is entirely too endearing for your liking. touya is supposed to be a pest, he is a pest. but you like having him around all the time. "i'm going to be the one to marry you, why does any of that matter?"

you feel yourself flushing. he hasn't let that go, and you don't think he ever will. you are grateful that it is too dark out for touya to see you properly. you don't say anything else, refusing to give in. instead, you allow yourself to be led along, trying to puzzle out where exactly touya is taking you.

"oh wow" you breathe, as you reach your destination at last. the moon stretches over the forest floor, glittering against a lulling stream. the grasses tickle against your ankles, and you are surrounded by a sea of blue flowers. there are fireflies, and their lights illuminate the prince's face. "touya, where are we?" it's hard to believe such a place has existed so near to your kingdom.

"its not too far from the well where i met you" touya says, staring at you. your head whips to stare back at him. your eyes drift slowly away from touya, and back to the sea where you find yourself immersed in. the blue is not so far away from the color of touya's eyes, you realize. the thought does not bother you. "do you like them? the flowers? i do not think they are nearly as beautiful as you are, but they will have to do"

you flush again. you have been told that you are beautiful, hundreds of times. maybe even thousands. yet the way that touya says it is...it is not the same. "will have to do for what?" you ask, turning back around.

"i do love you" touya says, stepping close to kiss your cheek, then then corner of your mouth. you both meet in the middle to sweetly kiss. touya takes your hand in his, and you gasp into the kiss when you feel something cold slide onto your finger. your eyes fly down, wide as saucers as you stare down at the ring.

"touya―"

"it isn't silly and childish. i knew i would marry you the day i saw you crying at the well" he continues, watching your expression as you lift your hand to your face. "i am in love with you. i will never love anyone else. nothing compares to you. you have bewitched me ; mind, body and soul"

you can only stare at him.

but touya knows your silence is a good one. a soft smile dawns on his face as he stares at you. he brings your ring-adorned hand up to his mouth, and kisses every finger. his eyes do not stray from yours. when has touya turned into such a romantic?

"i've spent my entire life under the thumb of my father" touya murmurs. "i did not have anything to live for. but you. i want you more than anything in the world. we will be wed soon. you only need wait a little longer. can you do that for me?"

a shiver befalls you.

the scene breaks. the doors open, and you start from the pleasant memory. you turn towards the doors, gazing into the stern face of your father.

nervously, you reach below the neckline of your daygown and pull out the ring touya gave you, suspended by a silver chain. "my letters to touya, has there been any answer?" you inquire. the same as you do everyday when your father comes to visit you.

nearly a year of silence. you have never gone so long without any word from him. it scares you.

yet the air around you feels oppressive, heavy. you bring your attentions away from the ring around your neck to look at your father. his face is pinched, heavy. he does not have good news, you realize, and your heart drops to your stomach at the thought of it.

"father?" you ask, standing hurriedly. "what is the matter?"

your father only grimaces, and gestures for you to sit back down. you obey, gripping the material of the setee in a tight grip. "the prince is dead" you shake your head. a second time, and then a third as tears well up into your eyes. "a fire, in the east wing of the castle"

five.

you rub your lower skin softly, mind elsewhere. the cross stitch in your hands has long since been abandoned.

the wind blows, rustles your gowns as you sit alone in the gardens. touya has been gone for three days now―on business. he is soon to return. though you wish for his carriage to fall of a mountain anyway. it hadn't the last time, so you know it won't this time either. and he may not be with you physically, but you feel the hold he has on you all the same.

hard not to, when everyone has given you such a wide berth. they know that talking to you for too long, smiling in your direction. complimenting your hair ; any of it could incur his wrath. and those who angered the usurper king were all quickly disposed of. the news of your pregnancy has only seemed to worsen his possessive streak.

a shadow falls over you, blocking out your light. hands fall on your shoulder. you no longer have the strength to resist him.

"i've returned" touya says softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your cheek. his hand travels down your body, laying over your own, gently caressing your belly. "how have you fared, in my absence?"

"i am content" you reply, softly. obediently you tip your head back and allow him to kiss you for real. "happy" you say, and the lie tastes like ash in your mouth.

touya hums into the kiss. "and the babe?" he inquires, eyes landing on your slightly swollen belly.

"another story entirely" you tell him, and your husband laughs. the sound of it fills you with dread and you want to fling yourself from the highest tower. but you are a coward, above all―and so all you do is smile and let him lead you back into your chambers.

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

KUROO I LOVE YOU KUROOOOO 😖

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ megumi had long since stopped listening to your whimpering pleas, the soft little no more and ’gumi, please, i can’t that barely even formed between your broken, gasping moans.

he didn’t care.

didn’t care how much you were shaking, didn’t care how your legs were trembling, how your weak hands pushed against his broad shoulders as if you had the strength to stop him.

no, megumi was far past caring.

his arms were locked around your thighs, forearms pressing down hard to keep you open, his grip possessive, unrelenting, hungry. his fingers dug into your soft skin, keeping you in place as his mouth worked you over, tongue flicking, lips sucking, his pace never once slowing, even after your last orgasm had left you gushing all over his chin.

you were a mess.

your slick had soaked the sheets beneath you, dripping down onto the bed from how many times he had pushed you over the edge, your thighs slick with the wet, obscene evidence of his obsession.

but megumi just groaned into your pussy, his voice thick, needy, completely fucking gone as his tongue circled your clit again, lips wrapping around it to suckle just right, just like he knew made your body jerk, made your hips try and run.

but you couldn’t run.

he wouldn’t let you.

"fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against you, his voice muffled between your folds, wet, filthy, breathless. "how could i stop when you keep cumming for me like this?"

you sobbed, the pleasure too much, your body twitching under his hold, overstimulated beyond belief. your fingers grasped at his shoulders, weak, trembling, but he didn’t budge.

he just licked deeper, tongue pushing inside you, curling, his nose bumping against your swollen clit, his arms flexing as he tightened his grip when you tried—tried—to squirm away.

"no," megumi muttered, his voice dangerous, raw, his tongue flicking out again to lap up the mess he had made of you, sending another sharp wave of painful pleasure through your body.

you screamed, thighs trying to clamp together, to stop the overwhelming sensation, but megumi just laughed, low and breathless, his mouth still sealed against your cunt, his fingers gripping your thighs tighter.

"you’re not going anywhere, baby." he moaned, sucking on your clit hard just to hear the wrecked, high-pitched sob it tore from your throat. "you’re gonna keep cumming for me. again and again—until you can’t even fucking think."