"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar: Chapter 7"
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"'Cause all I see is the best of you and all you see is the best of me
And you bring out the best of me
And all I see is everything
Your goals, your glow, your inner being
And our bigger meaning
So, let's lose us in these sheets, yeah
And when I get up to walk, I wanna feel weak, yeah
Well, I ain't goin' far (ain't goin' far)
So, stay where you are (stay where you are)
Feel like you partied in Venus and we woke up in Mars (baby)
I been waitin' my whole life (I've been waiting)
My whole life
And I'm gonna give you the best years of your life (for you and I)
You and I"
Beyonce—"ll Hands ll Heaven"
N'Jadaka Udaku, the foreign born king of Wakanda was a large man.
Yani watched him stretch his muscled arms and strong neck as he powered the bulk of his big body onto the stern of the houseboat and joined her on the cushiony loveseat facing the water on the lower deck. She had been on the luxury ship before. In America and elsewhere it would be considered a yacht, but to the super rich Udakus, it was a family houseboat.
The king rolled his neck and snuggled next to her, enjoying the warm sunlight and letting the alcohol in the champagne they drank relax him into a slight buzzy stupor. For three hours they floated in a quiet bliss, watching the water become a foamy deluge in their wake slicing through the turquoise liquid. The shoreline view slowly changed from deluxe high rises and bustle of city life to the more tranquil and slower-paced suburbs that led to the rural beauty of outer Zana.
N'Jadaka's skin had turned browner than hers as they sunbathed in their swimsuits, and luxuriated in their togetherness. She kissed his hard bicep and started to cry.
"Yani…"
His concerned voice enveloped her in comfort. He hugged her into his side.
"I'm so happy," she sputtered, knowing the champagne had taken over her emotions. "You're my husband now, and it makes all of this seem so solid and real. I'm drunk…"
He laughed and the sound squeezed her heart.
"I'm not talking about the liquor," she said quickly wanting him to know her true feelings, "I'm drunk off of this love we have. I can't explain it well, but it makes me feel…safe. Finally."
He threaded his fingers with hers and kissed her hand.
"I know what you mean, Yani. I feel the same. I'm actually feeling so many things at once. Maybe that's why I've been so quiet for the last two hours. Taking it all in…knowing that I have a wife. That means everything to me. I didn't know I could possibly love you more, but going through the wedding ceremony, taking vows before gods and people. All of this takes on a deeper meaning."
He stared at their wedding rings.
"I should've married you after the first time we made love because I knew you were the one back then. I just didn't trust myself…I didn't know how to love you properly."
He cast his gaze toward the river water again.
"I have a queen, a family of my own…I have everything I've ever wanted. Maybe I'm scared I'll lose it all again…maybe that's why all of my senses and emotions are heightened. So many people in the world never get to have all of their dreams come true."
Yani leaned over and kissed his cheek. N'Jadaka turned his face to align their lips. He was larger up close, overwhelming her space the way he always did and she welcomed that sensation. It meant that he was her forever love. Her husband.
"Ohmigod, look…N'Jadaka…look," she gasped.
Their love boat passed a giant mountain waterfall that gushed whitewater into the once calm river. The automated boat moved away from the cascading flow that started three hundred feet above them. A cool mist from the water striking the river moistened their skin. Yani leaned her neck back to study how high the waterfall started. They stood and walked up to the top deck toward the bow. The boat switched directions on a pre-determined course and headed directly for the heavy curtain of water one hundred feet wide. She clutched his hand.
"What's happening? Why is the boat going toward the waterfall?" Yani said with a nervous tone.
"Wait and see," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder.
"Aren't we supposed to cruise around the Ibukan?"
"That's what I told everyone for our safety, but that's not what we're doing," he said with a mischievous grin.
They drifted closer and the roar of the waterfall frightened Yani.
"Keep your eyes open baby…watch," he said.
A vibranium shield shimmered a neon blue streak all around the boat. They cruised straight through the waterfall and Yani marveled at the tons of water washing across the protective barrier.
On the other side they entered an enormous cave. The shield powered down and Yani glanced behind them, listening to the thundering roar of water keeping them out of sight.
The river cave was balmy and lit with lanterns decked around the stone walls. They were inside a mountain that led to someplace she was never privy to.
"Where are we?" she whispered.
"You'll see soon enough," he said, squeezing her closer to him.
The lanterns flickered a yellow-orange glow that allowed her to make out cave drawings that didn't look like Wakandan script. Without the light, the blackness of the interior would've swallowed them. Up ahead, a glint of white beckoned them to an exit.
"Oh!"
Yani covered her mouth with her hand. They floated out into a tropical rainforest with an explosion of colors on vines and canopies she had never seen before. The air smelled different and the scent of the blossoming rainforest flowers lured her steps forward near a railing for a closer chance to sniff the tropical atmosphere. If Joba had been there, she would've believed that her fairy garden had sprouted into a giant real-life wonderland. That's how magical it felt floating along with her husband.
Yani looked around with more wonder and couldn't get over how different the world looked in that place. One would've believed they slipped into a fantasy land with colors that vivid and varied. The boat followed a lazy "s" curve until it stopped. N'Jadaka gathered up their thin, ankle-length aquamarine honeymoon tunics. Yani slipped hers on and he did the same.
"We'll ride a hover bike to the place I want to take you," he said.
Yani walked beside him to the lower deck where a canoe and a hover bike were attached for their use on the trip. She climbed behind her husband and held his waist.
Two elder women and a young man waited for them to float over the water and settle on the landing near the water's edge. One woman carried a woven grass basket covered with a satin blue cloth and the other woman held a full bouquet of magenta and blood-orange flowers. Both women wore heavy brocaded lavender robes with gold sandals. The young man escorting them stood silently watching the royal couple climb off the hover bike. He wore a long plain white shirt with gold crotch-drop pants.
The woman with the basket stepped forward first and handed N'Jadaka the basket.
"Welcome kumkani. We have been waiting for your arrival with the new kumkanikazi and prepared your quarters for the next three days."
"Thank you. May I introduce you to Kumkanikazi Yani?"
All three lowered their heads and waited for Yani to acknowledge them with an offering of her hand. The woman with the bouquet gave them to the queen and Yani sniffed the heavenly scent.
"Where are we?" Yani asked the first woman.
"This is Ekuqaleni. The Beginning. The place where the Udaku clan first came to be through Ugogo Udaku…Grandmother Udaku. She is the matrilineal beginning for the king. You carry her name as your own now, kumkanikazi. The Udaku family line runs through their women."
"Udaku was her surname?" Yani asked.
The elder woman who gave the flowers shook her head and spoke softly.
"No. Udaku was her first and only name. Udaku of the Panther Tribe. Mother of Bashenga Udaku, the first Black Panther and our first united tribal king."
"The women ran everything," Yani said.
The women nodded at her.
"Come, you have had a long day and long journey. Time to rest and get acquainted with the roots of your people."
The fruit basket woman snapped her fingers and the young man became more alert and stepped three feet in front of N'Jadaka as the others did. All citizens were only allowed to stand the requisite distance of three feet unless invited closer by a royal personally.
"What are your names?" Yani asked.
The first woman pointed to herself and then the woman with the flowers.
"I am Mama F'Neka and that is Mama Yiswa. Niso will take you to rest. Supper will be ready when you ask for it. We are here to serve and help you enjoy your stay. Your pleasure is our grace," F'Neka said.
Niso stepped lively and the royal couple carried their gifts and followed a winding path through a wealth of nature's beauty.
"We are on the other side of Umbono Lake," N'Jadaka said.
"By the cove?"
"Close to it," he said.
Yani smiled. She had a better picture of the geography knowing they were further south.
"Are you the only people here?" Yani asked Niso.
"No, kumkanikazi. Several of us work here to take care of Ekuqaleni," Niso said.
N'Jadaka took a hold of Yani's free hand and clasped it as they walked through the tropical paradise.
"No one is allowed to be here except for the royal family, and most times it's just for the newlywed ones," N'Jadaka said. "This place is a historical landmark and not even the public can come here except for certain times of the month annually for special tours."
"Ekuqaleni is a holy place my queen," Niso added. "Ugogo Udaku encouraged her young son King Bashenga to follow the ways of the shaman during the time of constant tribal wars. With her wisdom and Bast's guidance, our revered king found isipho…the gift."
"Vibranium," Yani said.
"Yes, kumkanikazi. Ugogo Udaku was born and lived here in the forest for one hundred and ten years. My family has taken care of Ekuqaleni for generations. Mama F'Neka and Mama Yiswa are my grand aunts. We are a mix of the Panther and River tribe."
The path they followed narrowed and N'Jadaka made Yani walk in the middle behind Niso. Giant multi-colored butterflies with wing-spans as wide as her hand fluttered in a ring high above them. The forest had a cloying sweet odor where they traveled. Niso pointed to the butterflies overhead.
"They are drunk with the fermented nectar of the fruit we gave you," Niso said.
Grayish-green fruit shaped like pregnant pears hung on branches slightly at Yani's eye level. Many had over-ripened and browned deeply in sections where butterflies crawled over them licking the fermentation. She giggled and touched the wing of one nearby butterfly. The soft powdery feel slid across her fingertips as they continued moving into a clearing.
"What about our clothes and things on the boat?" Yani asked.
N'Jadaka fondled her backside with a gentle pat and pinch.
"Don't worry about that stuff. I have it all taken care of. Just enjoy the trip, Ma," N'Jadaka said.
Niso stepped aside letting the royals move ahead of him and Yani's eyes widened.
A natural heated mineral pool faced a sunken fire pit surrounded by low stools and a lounging seat. The lush area was cultivated to blend in with the surroundings with enough touches to look cozy and quite comfortable.
"My king and queen, Ugogo Udaku's family dwelling," Niso said proudly.
Yani had imagined some small thatched covered hut made to survive a tropical environment. Instead, her neck arched back and her mouth fell open at the sight of giant trees as tall, wide, and grandiose as American redwoods, but cultivated over a millennia to take on the braided curved shapes like lucky bamboo. The canopies were also intertwined across the tree tops creating the foundation for pearly white-washed circular tree homes made of smooth stone and earth. The light coloring looked spectacular against the backdrop of twining leaves and branches of bright emerald green etched with faint traces of lemon yellow and vermilion streaks.
N'Jadaka grinned next to her.
"Beautiful huh?" he said, putting the basket of fruit on a low tree-trunk carved table.
Yani put the bouquet of flowers down next to the fruit basket and walked toward the closest tree. She noticed the carved steps inside the trunk that led up to the tree home.
"May I?" Yani asked Niso.
"My queen, this is your ancestral home. You may do as you wish," Niso said.
Yani hurried up the organic steps and squealed when she reached the top. Entering the first room she immediately looked out of the window. Holding her breath, she couldn't believe it all belonged to her. N'Jadaka's heavy footfalls echoed from behind and she glanced at him quickly before spinning around the cool interior.
"So much space! It's huge in here and…ohmigod, N'Jadaka…"
Yani took off through a long hall that led to other parts of the tree house. More living pods were made for bedrooms, a restroom, kitchen area, and then treetop bridges that led to hanging gardens that grew fruits and flowers above the forest floor.
N'Jadaka followed, enjoying the delight in her eyes. They stood together on an above ground pathway that gave them a view of a lazy tributary of milky blue water that flowed to the east of the tree house. More steps carved out of the tree led down directly to the water.
"My ancestors had to live above ground because there was a lot of seasonal flooding before they started damming up spots to control the waterways. I thought staying here a few days before going on the boat cruise would be…romantic?" N'Jadaka said.
Yani hugged him tight.
"I love it," she said.
"I'm glad. I know we could go anywhere in the world, or do anything we want in Wakanda, but I just wanted to be somewhere special for us. You're making roots here too, and your lineage is very important to our history on this patch of land."
Yani's eyes welled up and she blinked away tears by glancing down below and noticing Niso. He waved up to them. A loud growling sound startled Yani. Two black panthers lumbered out from behind twisty vines looping below the trees.
Niso didn't seem fazed at all and bent down to scratch the ear of one panther that rolled over onto its back.
"This is S'Bu and Unathi, your personal guards. Would you like to meet them?" Niso called up.
Yani bounded down the carved stairs of another giant tree dragging N'Jadaka with her by the hand.
"Are they safe? They don't know us," Yani asked.
She quickly became cautious once she stood before the gorgeous beasts, their blue-black coats of fur gleaming like polished midnight. N'Jadaka walked up to S'Bu and cuddled its chin with his big hand.
"They are bred for the royals and brought up to obey your commands and watch over you in the forest," Niso said.
Yani was still hesitant to touch either panther.
"No worries Queen Yani. I have gotten them accustomed to your scent. King N'Jadaka sent over clothing belonging to you so they are familiar with your natural skin odor. They know you are to be respected and protected."
"Tell them to sit in Wakandan baby," N'Jadaka encouraged.
"They're not dogs," Yani said with a small laugh in her voice.
"Try it."
Yani stepped closer to her husband just to be safe and looked both big cats in the eyes.
"Hlala phantsi," Yani commanded.
Both panthers squatted on their haunches and kept direct eye contact with her.
"Good job, Queen Yani," Niso said.
Yani reached out and scritched the ear of Unathi first. The animal purred under her fingers and S'Bu nudged her fingers to get some affection too.
"A jealous baby," Yani said.
"They are both three years old and will come and go frequently to trek around the pereimeter," Niso said.
"Aren't panthers normally solitary?" Yani asked.
"Wild ones, yes. They prefer to be alone until mating season. But these have been raised in a claw of humans and were trained to live together with some female panthers that roam here too. You won't see them as much. They are fed by our team so no need to do anything for these big boys. S'Bu loves belly rubs and Unathi prefers back rubs. When you want them to go away, just clap your hands and they will leave."
Niso lowered his head and kept his hands by his sides.
"I will leave you to begin your honeymoon. Tap your kimoyos when you would like your supper brought to you, or any other extra meals and snacks. Ugogo Udaku's home is equipped with all the latest amenities as the palace. Refreshments are in the home already. There are marked trails and kimoyo scans for landmarks and such throughout the forest. I hope you will enjoy your stay. We are so honored to have you."
"Thank you, Niso," Yani said.
Niso wandered off and the forest swallowed all traces of him. Both panthers flopped down on their sides relaxed and without a care in the world.
"What would you like to do first? Explore a little, or relax. Anything you want to get into is good with me, baby," N'Jadaka said.
"What about you?"
He surveyed the empty fire pit and a stack of freshly chopped wood at the base of the tree house steps.
"I'm thinkin' of making a fire so we can have our supper out here. Shouldn't take me long to get one going. We have a couple of hours left before the sun sets."
"How about you get the fire going and I'll walk around here for a few minutes to get acquainted with the forest," she said.
"Bet."
He strolled over to the wood stack and Yani pivoted the other way. The two panthers sat up. S'Bu padded forward to follow.
"Stay," she said in English.
The panther kept walking and she repeated her command in Wakandan and the big cat abruptly sat on its backside again.
She wandered into an area of hanging vines taking in the fresh air and dense foliage. Staring up, she looked upon the thick canopy that blocked out most of the sunlight and created a shady walk through the forest. Despite the dense covering, tiny slats of golden light filtered down like sundrops, making dustmotes look like sparkly glitter dancing in the bright spots. Yani walked into magic and wonder feeling childlike.
There were a few other tree houses high above, but many hadn't been cared for as well as Ugogo Udaku's home over the years. They had eroded away or been grown over by the trees and vines they were built into. The constant buzzing of cicadas rang in her ears. She welcomed the sound and listened for other tropical noises to alert the world of other life going on around her. Frogs croaked and a few green and blue birds bounced from branch to branch watching her closely. A black and white colobus monkey, with an old geriatric-looking face and a tail of long white fur that favored horsehair, spied on her from above.
A sensation of peace descended over the forest and Yani ventured carefully back to the treehouse. The smell of wood smoke greeted her. N'Jadaka sat on one of the low stools by the fire petting both of the panthers that stretched out in front of him. Yani paused her steps and watched her husband interact with the animals. He looked regal and powerful handling S'Bu and Unathi like they were mere kittens. The fire crackled and so did a leaf under her sandal. N'Jadaka and the panthers glanced her way. His large physique reminded her of a human panther. Especially his eyes and how they could turn predatory against an enemy. He really was just a giant panther who would turn as docile as the big cats at his feet when she pointed him in the direction she wanted. Umama whispered in her ear before they flew away on their honeymoon that the queen of Wakanda was the true power behind the throne, and the best queens kept the king on point. Yani clapped her hands and both cats ambled away following her commands immediately. They retreated in the direction Niso disappeared.
"How was your walk?" he asked.
Yani went to him and touched his pulled back locs. She lifted his chin with two fingers and kissed his full lush lips in the firelight.
"This is perfect," she said after releasing his mouth.
"Hungry?"
"Yeah, I could do with a good meal and then a nice early rest."
"We can go canoeing tomorrow and barbecue in the afternoon. We can also hike to see the top of the waterfall."
"So much to see and do… and all the time we need to do it. A whole month off," Yani sighed into his hair.
N'Jadaka pulled her onto his lap and they enjoyed the fire for a time. He tapped his kimoyo beads and Niso returned with two other attendants pushing a floating double food cart filled with delicacies and more than enough food for two hungry royals. The low dining table was just at the right level of the ancient seats. They sat across from one another and were served the first course of broth and flat bread with wine and fresh cheese bites. N'Jadaka dismissed their attendants after giving instructions to bring a late breakfast in the morning.
"I guess walking out here made us hungrier than we thought," Yani said.
She pulled out several platters filled with yellow rice, grilled vegetables, stuffed flaky fish pastries, tender cuts of beef smothered in rich red wine gravy, and skewers of chicken glazed with peanut sauce. Helping themselves to full plates, they ate and reveled in the calm peacefulness as the sun set. Small solar lights sprinkled around the tree house twinkled to life.
"How pretty…oh…I wish the kids could see this," Yani said.
"They will. We'll come back through here on the way back home our last week. But I want us to have this to ourselves first," he said, winking.
"You really have thought of everything."
She stuffed a piece of the fruit that was already cut up for them in the basket.
"This tastes so good, like a peach and passion fruit mix…here, try some."
Yani passed a small squared off piece to N'Jadaka and he ate it right from her fingers, licking the tips free of juice.
"I like it," he said.
He watched her face then smiled.
"You're glowing," he said.
"What?"
"Your face…your demeanor. It's a glowing vibe."
"Hmmm…I feel like I'm glowing. This might sound funny but, I feel like I'm married. It's like a sensation in my bosom, like a weight or something. Nothing heavy, but…a solidness?"
Yani watched his face. N'Jadaka leaned in closer to the table and reached for her ring finger.
"I kinda feel that way too, Yani. Like how we were discussing on the boat. Ceremony is one thing, but saying those vows to you…I feel more connected to you than I ever have. Once those words came out…it's like you said…almost like the word became flesh and lodged inside of us."
Yani nodded, understanding completely.
"Are you excited about when we get back and you attend your first palace meeting with the Council of Elders?" he asked.
Yani rolled her eyes and nibbled on some bread.
"I don't want to think about the palace right now. I only want to focus on us and this amazing honeymoon trip."
"Want any more wine?"
N'Jadaka held out a wine carafe and Yani shook her head.
"I've had enough to drink today, no thank you."
He sipped the last drops in his own wine glass and checked out the dessert offerings. Lemon tarts and mini vanilla bean cakes with fresh berry glaze. They shared a cake and then covered up the rest of the food for the attendants to retrieve later.
Shucking off their caftans to frolic openly with swimsuits again, they investigated the mineral spring bubbling nearby. A trough made of smooth robin's egg blue stones allowed cool water from the river tributary to flow through. All they had to do was lift a partition made of yellow limestone and clay and the cooler water drained into the steamy mineral waters regulating the temperature.
The spring was about five feet deep in the center with seat impressions carved into the sides that could accommodate up to six adults.
"Nature's Jacuzzi," N'Jadaka said as he helped Yani into the bubbling froth that smelled faintly of sulfur.
Yani lifted the partition and the milky blue river water rushed in and helped neutralize the strong odor from the spring. The frothy mix became soapy on their skin making it tingle.
"Feels like heaven," Yani said after the final adjustment of the partition to a perfect temperature.
Seated shoulder to shoulder, they soaked in heated bliss and held hands under the water. They spoke of the children and their education, and Yani fretted about the possibility of sending Sydette to the best science academy in Wakanda. Their eldest had taken her first Level 1 aptitude exam that all nine-year-olds took to determine their academic journey. Unlike most educational systems, Wakandans let the children's intelligence place them with their natural interests and not just a typical general core curriculum that everyone had to abide by for decades. They allowed children to specialize in their talents early encouraging self-motivation that would hopefully carry on into a lifetime of autodidactism.
Sydette tested high in the hard sciences and mathematics and her primary teacher was pleased to inform Yani and N'Jadaka that S'Yan University had the proper seed school within the institution that all the best young science minds went to early. In a year, Sydette would have to attend a new school for her grade level and Yani wanted her near the palace. Attending the Level 2 in S'Yan would mean boarding school for Sydette. Traveling back and forth to school hundreds of miles away was too much for a little girl. It was tough while she was living away from her father in the countryside under duress, but S'Yan was even further away near the sea.
Boarding school was what rich people did to have their children rub shoulders with the elite and to get high paying, high status jobs after graduation. Sydette was a princess and the daughter of the richest and most brilliant man in the world. She didn't need a boarding school to get ahead in life, she was already at the front of the line. Yani toyed with the idea of asking N'Jadaka to create a school in Zana just as heralded as the one in S'Yan just to keep Sydette at home. All the schools in Wakanda were better than anything outside of the country, but S'Yan University had three particular teachers there that created giants in their field. Shuri and T'Challa had gone there as children before attending the Royal Academy of Wakanda in Zana.
Her mind wandered to their "twins" Joba and Riki. In two years, all of their children could possibly be away from the golden city and boarding on the other side of the country. The thought bothered her to no end. She was supposed to see her babies every day to ask how their day went and help them with their class work. There were already rumblings from Joba and Riki's teachers about skipping them a few grades like N'Jadaka had been. That meant they could leave the palace sooner. Brilliant children meant losing parts of childhood sometimes. Her husband didn't talk about it much, but Dante told Yani that it was tough for the king to be the smartest and youngest child in the room when he was little.
Joba had an aptitude for linguistics and art. Riki…well…Riki was…Yani chuckled.
"What's so funny?" N'Jadaka asked.
"Thinking of Riki. What do you think he'll do with his life? We know he loves animals."
N'Jadaka pressed his lips together suppressing a smirk.
"Why are you looking like that?" Yani asked.
"He told me he wants to start a band."
"Ooh Lord, God…"
"Well, the boy can sing. My Baba could and so can you, which means he has the genetics."
"So Sydette becomes an astrobiologist, Joba the master linguist/art historian, and our son becomes a rock star?"
"Why not?"
"I know the music business first hand remember? It's not a nice industry. He's too smart for that."
"Wakanda is all about letting their young people develop their potential. Maybe it's time for an Udaku to be a famous musician. Give him a few more years with his piano and guitar lessons. He could be the next King of Pop. But a real one!"
"My baby is too sweet to become a raunchy musician."
"Stop projecting."
Yani curled her lip in a pout and N'Jadaka squeezed her kneecap.
"You have to let him have the same opportunity your parents gave you when you were allowed to try your hand at music," he said.
"That wasn't my dream and you know it. Chez wanted to be a star, not me."
"Kendall is doing well though."
"Kendall is a famous music producer now…all behind the scenes work."
"He would be a good mentor for Riki—"
"Are you seriously thinking of letting our son become a performer? You wahn me vex on this honeymoon?"
"You are the queen of Wakanda. Lil Man will never fall victim to the seamier side of the music business because who would want to fuck with his mama? Or his daddy? One word from your mouth and you already know I'm tearing up cities for our kids."
Yani relaxed more and rubbed her hand up and down his arm.
"Promise?" she said in his ear.
"Anything for my wife, ya heard me?"
She nodded. He stood abruptly and pulled at the elastic on his trunks.
"Too hot for me. Let's use the outdoor shower and head up," he said.
She stepped out of the mineral pool and slipped on her sandals. They rinsed off with cool water from an overhead shower nozzle connected to one of the trees facing the treehouse. Stripping off their suits, they wrung them out and strung them along a branch to dry. A second more thorough shower had them fully refreshed and energized.
"Let's stay outside a little longer," Yani suggested.
Even with the sun gone, the spring weather carried the whispers of summer on a slow breeze that followed them back over to the double lounger. N'Jadaka moved it to face the tributary where they could gaze at the bright stars in the evening sky. He tilted the back support so they could sprawl together at an angle. Yani waited for him to settle in the lounger first before she crawled to sit between his legs with the back of her head resting on his chest.
"Do you think Adam and Eve had it like this in the Garden of Eden?" Yani asked.
"Without attendants…maybe."
"Nude in nature and happy like this every day of their lives…"
"Until that whole apple situation," he joked.
"Shooting stars!" she blurted, pointing at the streak of burning dust overhead.
Yani closed her eyes when she spotted a new cluster of vaporized debris masquerading as shooting stars. She made a wish for her husband and herself to live long happy lives without any falls from grace.
N'Jadaka was pleased.
His new wife loved the surprise excursion to Ekuqaleni. Before his paternal grandfather vanished in the Thanos war, he gave N'Jadaka the suggestion to visit the place of his Wakandan roots where it all began for the Panther tribe. He made meticulous arrangements in secrecy and felt grateful that he listened to Baba Z.
Yani was in awe of the place and more than anything, she loved the seclusion and quiet from other people. She spoke to him with that soft tone he adored in her voice, and touched him constantly. She knew his love language was physical contact and catered to those needs just as he catered to hers by showering her with gifts that showed her that she was worthy of all the good things in life she struggled for. Yani wasn't materialistic by any means, but his constant presents for no special reasons brought her gratitude and acceptance that she was worthy of being spoiled by him. N'Jadaka puffed up ten feet whenever she expressed elation over a new surprise he bestowed upon her simply because he loved her so much.
Naked and tangled together on the lounger, they watched shooting stars and listened to the settling down of the majestic forest. An owl hooted and flew low past their seat right across the tributary. They were surrounded by mountains and away from the constant eyes in the palace. Being butt naked in a serene wilderness calmed his mind and body. He curled his arms around Yani's chest, feeling the soft globes of her breasts push into his warm skin. True Eden was holding her close and never letting her go.
He slid his fingers onto her nipples and played with them. They perked up, still tender from the soak in the mineral pool. She stayed quiet, watching his fingers roll across the firm tips, fat like plump grapes. Her sighs pleased his ears as he plucked and pinched them gently. He cupped each breast and looked down at her chest, slowly pushing them together. Staring at big tits always got him started in the arousal department. Yani's thighs fell open wider and he knew her inner labia were becoming engorged just by the way her backside squirmed against him. She turned her head and he lowered his so they could kiss, their tongues sliding into moist, ready caverns. His mouth watered kissing her, and he kept his tongue at the entrance of her mouth, forcing Yani to beg for more with her prodding tongue. He delved deeper into her throat forcing her to submit that wanton mouth. She matched his pace. His fuller lips took over hers and she moaned deep in her throat.
"Love me?" he whispered between kisses.
She nodded and arched her neck to capture more of his lips, her teeth grazing his bottom lip playfully. He slowed her down with softer kisses that tested the limits of her desire for him. Licking on her neck, he bit into her skin and nibbled on the spot just under the right side of her jaw. He sucked a small hicky there, marking her flesh with his teeth too. She shifted her body onto her side, and the heat from her heavy breasts seared warmth into him. He lowered his hand and touched her down there in that special place.
That pussy was wetter and hotter than the water they crawled out of.
The slickness coated his fingertips and he painted her wide labia with all the stickiness she spewed out.
"I've been waiting to play all in this pussy…"
He prevented her from responding by stuffing his fingers in her mouth, making her taste the sweet tasting nectar she released. She'd spent a week eating large amounts of pineapples and mangoes to make sure her pussy tasted delicious for them.
Good girl.
He gently smacked her vulva. The slap from his hand activated the pleasure of her labia piercings.
"Yesss," she hissed, and he slapped her vulva again, the frothy wetness between her legs making his entire hand wet.
"…playing with my wife's pretty pussy outside in the open. Anybody could walk past and see the queen's wet pussy lips…"
Yani huffed out an aroused breath into his right side. The exhibitionist in her was wound up tight. He drew lazy figure eights all around her jeweled clit. Her legs trembled as he rubbed slow circles on it directly.
"You can't cum on my fingers baby. The king has to eat your pussy first before he can get deep inside you. Would you like that now? My lips on your pussy? Licking all over that juicy clit?"
"Yes…please…Daddy…eat my pussy."
"You about to get some husband dick tonight, Yani. I already told you that shit was going to be different from what you're used to. Daddy gotta put in real work tonight to stretch you out good. I might make several big messes all inside you."
She trembled all over, the tension in her body palpable against his nerve endings. He inserted two fingers partially inside her pussy and they both heard the sound it made when he wiggled his fingers around to test how wet she was. He adjusted her position on his torso so he could reach down and finger fuck her. She spread her legs along the sides of his and savored his digits twirling pleasure inside of her. Her walls squeezed around his fingers. The deeper he sank his fingers the more moans tumbled from her lips. Her eyes were glassy and faraway. She was ready to be piped down good and hard.
N'Jadaka moved her body away from his and slid down to his knees on the soft grass. It was time for him to face the nation between her thighs. Pushing Yani's legs back on the lounger he smashed his lips into her vulva and commenced to pleasuring the queen with a thick wide tongue. She tasted sweeter and her slick offering soaked his lips and most of his lower face.
Tongue fucking her made Yani shoot her legs up to the dark heavens. Her toes pointed to the north star toward freedom in her pussy. A powerful orgasm rippled all across her lush form. He loved the way her entire vulva throbbed in his mouth. Her orgasmic contractions exploded again while he groaned into her soft center making it vibrate with delirious pulses. It forced her to let out a rapturous shout to God and anyone else who would listen to her praises of his tongue.
He slurped up all the stickiness she produced and swallowed it full of greed for more. Standing, he let her witness the growth of his erection. It stood saluting her. Her eyes glossed over his heavy nutsack before admiring his thick arousal. He lifted his balls and squeezed their heft, letting her see what was in store to flood her pussy.
Yani lifted one of the large fluffy pillows from the lounger and placed it on the grass in front of the seat. She dropped onto all fours facing away from him. Head down, ass up. N'Jadaka scooted into a comfortable position at the edge of the lounger and spread his legs. He gripped his dick with a firm hand and stroked himself, watching his wife wiggle her big, wide ass. Her fat vulva gleamed from her piercings and the fresh lubricant her body produced. The inner labia wings were spread out and all of her precious pink winked at him. She played with her pussy and he groaned stroking his dick. Her pretty rose-gold nails pulled her ass cheeks apart providing a gorgeous picture for him. When they got back to the palace he was going to commission a discreet artist to paint his wife in that position. That body was art, especially when it was aroused and that pink pussy throbbed like that.
"Fuck Yani, that pussy looks so juicy…so does that ass baby…"
She slowly rubbed her labia and it was torture staring at wet pussy teasing him to fuck. Women from all over the world had been in that position before trying to seduce him. Only Yani made him pant the way he did watching her tease him. She pushed three of her fingers inside her pussy and the squelching sounds had his fat lips twisted up in agony.
"You like your wife's pussy?" Yani said.
"I do baby…"
"Do you like how it sounds Daddy?"
His hand pounded his dick down to his balls. Precum drizzled down the shaft and all over his right hand. So much came out that he was losing the feeling of friction. He was going to need her tight pussy soon. Sweat poured down his face.
"Yani…damn…Yani…got this dick hard as fuck…shit…"
She started making her ass cheeks jump in a syncopated rhythm and he jumped down on his knees. He jammed his left hand down on the arch of her back and pressed the tip of his dick against her right ass cheek, rubbing it hard against the pillowy soft bubble.
"You like that big ass Daddy?"
"Fuck!"
N'Jadaka groaned and slapped his dick against her ass. His precum coated her skin and his dick slid all around feeling hot and dangerous in his hand. He slapped the other ass cheek several times leaving dark red-brown markings on her toasted brown skin. Yani liked that stinging pain and cried out for more. He was losing control. His vision became blurry from the sweat falling into his eyes.
"Get on your knees! Aw fuck, Yani! Hurry…get on your knees…'bout to bust a fat one. Wanna cum on your face…you know what I want…you know what I want!" he shouted.
Yani took her sweet time rising from her position. But she didn't stay on her knees. She sauntered over to the lounger and got cozy on her back, spreading her big thighs open.
"I want my husband…I want my husband right now," she said.
N'Jadaka stared at her earnest face and the beauty it contained. His entire body hummed with the thrilling sensation of lust and love and deepening desire. His dick was a heavy sword between his legs ready to be sheathed by a queen he loved with his entire heart, mind, body, and soul. He lowered his head and kissed her feet and made a trail with his lips all the way up her body. When he reached her lips, he gave her a small peck and lined his erection up with her receptive labia.
"I want my wife. I want my wife right now," he said to her with strong conviction.
The firelight revealed a shine in Yani's eyes that glowed like the stars above.
Everything slowed down.
His breathing.
His heart beat.
His mind.
All there was in that moment of exquisite time was her.
Yani.
The woman who brought him back from the land of the living dead.
The woman who loved him whole and free.
His wife.
His.
He entered her body slowly, burning into his memory the sensation of her vagina closing around his girth, holding him like no other woman could. Resting his forehead against hers, their eyes connected and locked together. He placed his hands into fists at her sides and grunted his satisfaction with a slow lovemaking that had him enthralled.
God she took that dick!
He closed his eyes and gasped at how tight and deep she was. When he was able to open his eyes again while savoring the sweet thrusts he gave her, he knew in his spirit he would be lost to her love forever. The thought of how easily he could've lost her on that island swarmed over him like a tsunami of watery heat in his bones, and he wept, fearful of how close his life could've gone down the drain if he hadn't found her and built a connection.
Yani cradled his face with her hands and wiped away his tears that threatened to fall on her. He shifted his weight and she wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him room to thrust harder into her.
His queen. His wife.
Yani.
She made love to him like no other and he reciprocated. His mind wandered for a second at a memory. Who was the lover he once chastised for trying to fuck him like that when it was better suited for a man who deserved her? He was at M.I.T. at the time…early twenties. Cocksure and slanging dick like a fiend. The woman had been much older than him and fell in love with him so fast that he felt bad for leaving her with unrequited feelings. Shaun knew her…a big fine…
Renata.
Yeah, that was her. He had been right to warn Renata about fucking men like that. That was husband territory and the woman that rightfully deserved his tender loving care would have it for as long as he lived. The wisdom of his youth flooded his limbs and he kissed Yani while thrusting his soul into her depths. He needed her to feel his love and devotion. She hugged him tight.
"N'Jadaka…my love…my everything," she said.
"Yes," he said, rocking into her in a steady love tempo. "Yes…yes…baby…yes."
Husband things.
Her mouth parted but no sound came out. Her eyes never wavered from his. Her pussy swallowed his dick with artful decadence. Every thrust he gave ripped a groan from him as well as her, and after awhile, it became a steady metronome of sound. Even the forest quieted down to listen to their lovemaking.
Yani's pussy was a gushy fortress of primal delight. He glanced down to watch his dick move in and out, stuffing her full of thick dick, stretching her with divine care. Giving him pussy like that, he definitely knew he would have her pregnant in a few months. She made the idea of pulling out a sin before Bast and Ogum. He had fought aliens from other galaxies, had Gods speak to him directly and ride his body within his own flesh, but none of those experiences were as profound as making love to Yani.
He gestured for her to turn around so he could take her from behind and waited for her to get into a comfortable position. He sank back into her with a hearty shout of her name and gripped her waist. She clutched the back of the lounger for stability. Slowly gyrating his hips, he gave Yani the backshots she needed as her man. With reckless abandon, she threw her ass back on him causing loud thunderous claps of her ass cheeks. He held back from plunging into her again and let Yani do all the fucking while he watched with half closed eyelids. Her grip on his dick made his balls ache to release. She twisted her hips and pushed into him at a new angle that tugged on his length with a new sensation.
"Dassit, fall back on that dick. Good girl…show me how you own this dick…show me…dassit. That's all yours, Yani... right there…right there…yank on this dick with that tight pussy baby."
She looked back at him while she bounced on his dick. It was that daring look in her eyes that made her lethal during sex. The look clarified that no one else could fuck him like she did. She was the big dick assassin and she snapped that fat ass against his groin to remind him that she was not to be toyed with. Flexing her back muscles, she started really cooking on his dick, twisting her waist from side to side the way she did when she danced seductively on a dance floor. Her ass moved like water with such fluidity that he squeezed his eyes shut again to keep himself from nutting before he was ready. He grit his teeth and huffed agitated air, suppressing the yell that built up in his throat and threatened to bellow out like a raging elephant.
Yani pushed the lounge chair's back support until it was flat. She lowered her face and kept her eyes locked on his as she arched her back into a more visually pleasing display that tooted her ass higher for his pleasure.
She knew what she was doing.
Setting him up for the kill-strike on his dick. Her pussy was already doing stunts on his shaft with all the concentrated squeezing. Using his large hands, he pulled her cheeks apart to admire the visual of tight pink pussy throbbing all around his pulsing erection. Locked on her target, her eyes narrowed watching him. He had something for her ass though that would mess up her goal to end him.
N'Jadaka lifted onto his feet and fucked her froggy style. That position gave his fat sack the ammunition angle to continually smack into her swollen clit harder. His switch up worked, and Yani's face transformed from a look of deadly accuracy into one of submissive bliss.
"Oh…oh…oh…oh…" she panted softly and repeatedly.
His balls and the thickness of his dick stretching her caused the right amount of friction to render her lost in the sauce. She had that faraway look in her glassy stare.
"MmmHmmm…thought you had me gone. Now I gotta teach you how to behave," he barked at her.
Yani whimpered and chewed on her bottom lip. Her shiny eyes looked more watery and ready to spill tears. He rubbed on her booty, smacking it on both sides, luxuriating in the recoil as it bounced in his hands.
"Not here," he said glancing up at the treehouse.
Reluctantly, he pulled out from her tightness and lifted her gently in his arms. She rested her head against his neck and circled her arms around his wide shoulders.
"I will cum inside you way up there…where my ugogo lived high above the ground…among these magnificent trees. I want the old ones who passed on to hear us and know that we're building a new nation," he whispered in her ear.
He strode across the peaceful landscape carrying Yani past the dying fire and the gurgling of the mineral spring. S'Bu and Unathi returned from prowling their territory and watched the king with his queen.
"You two stay here and watch this place. Stay," he commanded.
Unathi gave a subdued growl as if responding to N'Jadaka. Both panthers slinked gracefully near the fire pit and hunkered down like two giant loaves of black bread.
N'Jadaka walked up the treehouse stairway and carried Yani into the largest bedroom pod that was decorated like a honeymoon suite for the royal couple. Tropical flowers were placed around the bedroom in natural grass woven baskets. Heavily scented green candles burned inside copper wall sconces with protective glass coverings. Two royal purple robes transported from their palace home hung up on wall hooks. With the whitewashing of the walls and the flickering candles, the bedroom glowed with a subdued golden light.
Their bedding was a soft ancient pallet covered in a hand woven plum-colored quilt that had been lovingly repaired and refabricated over centuries, but still held the stitches of his greatest grandfather's mother.
Above them was a skylight where the ancient ones had trimmed away the canopy to let in starlight and sunshine. He made out the Wakandan zodiac sign of the baobab tree among the stars twinkling their light into the room. Placing Yani on her feet, he pulled back the quilt and soft sheets.
"Give me your hand," he said.
Yani placed her left hand in his and helped lower her onto the unbelievably soft and supportive pallet. It must've been made from some special material that deceived the eye into thinking it was too thin to handle two grown bodies that were about to get busy. He pushed two large pillows against the wall creating back support.
N'Jadaka held Yani in his arms and kissed her. Their tongues played a gentle game of hide and seek in their mouths. He fondled her breasts and whispered her name over and over, praising her touches all over his body. He nibbled her earlobe, licked the shell of her ear, and groaned while listening to her needy moans. The wide open wings of her labia beckoned him to plunge back inside her pussy. The stickiness between her thighs became molten lava on his hand. She crawled on top of him and guided his twitching erection inside her sugary walls.
"Oh…Killmonger," she sighed.
"Fuck!"
Yani leaned forward and her breasts smothered his face. She rode him hard and fast. He sucked on her nipples and tried stuffing as much of her breasts into his mouth as possible. She started bucking and he cried out with enough passion to make his throat raw. He gripped her big titties and held on to them while she fucked the shit out of him.
"Dammit! Fuck me Yani…keep going like that…oh shiitttttt!"
She leaned back and her breasts bounced like an earthquake rumbled their treehouse. His nutsack reacted to the vision, the hot semen held there on the brink of shooting out from his dick if he let her ride like she was on a mechanical bull much longer.
His lips bunched up and he started begging for mercy.
"Don't make me cum yet baby…please…I'm not ready for you to pull this nut out yet…Yani…Yani…please…"
She laughed and pushed her tits together, extending his torture. Her pussy made splashing noise all over his dick. A creamy stickiness covered his erection and more coated it as her arousal danced into a tipping point. The way his dick stretched her pussy lips as she went up and down paralyzed him into inaction and he took the pounding of her ass on his thighs like a champ. A lesser man would've tapped out a long time ago. He was on the verge and she knew it, and that knowledge turned her into a dick riding tyrant.
"Oh my God…Oh my God….shit, shit, shit, Yani you fucking bitch! Ahhhhh!"
There was no shame in a man screaming because his wife rocked his world. No shame in his voice going up two octaves either. He lifted his body and hugged her tight, slowing down her plans to kill him with pussy. The king planted kisses all over her throat and face before taking her lips. Distracted, Yani went limp in his arms and he flipped her over onto her back.
He plunged in deep, shocking her system. She clawed his back with those rose-gold nails and the pain of breaking skin seeped into his body as pleasure. He pressed his weight down into her and gave her what she wanted. The righteous pounding from a king.
Grunting and cursing, he looked at Yani directly, their warm moaning breath co-mingling
"Fuck me Killmonger! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
No noise came out of his mouth. Eventually it stopped coming out of her mouth too. The eroticism of silence shrouded them. Only their overstimulated bodies keened and shrieked the ecstasy drowning their pores.
He hit that sweet spot inside her walls and Yani's mouth opened wider and the tears finally fell. A seismic orgasm rocked her into a silent writhing. Her pussy tightened and quickly rippled a barrage of contractions up and down his dick.
He let go.
His hefty dick swelled within her walls and the first tsunami of cum spilled into her. He hunched his back so tight that he couldn't even focus his eyesight anymore. He became caught in a twilight world of physical euphoria and never needing to live again because he shot his entire life through his dick.
The second wave of his release helped him find his voice and he hollered into the wall the praise songs of his father's gods. Yani stroked the nape of his neck and he groaned out to Ogum to save him before he passed out.
Ogum answered and a soothing sensation trickled along his spine and helped him gather the strength to separate himself from his wife. The sensation rooted itself at the top of his head and he shifted to his knees and gripped his dick that remained erect. Yani squirmed seductively underneath him and kept her gaze on the wide head of his shaft.
"Suck my dick," he demanded.
Yani acquiesced with a smirk on her face. She knew what was coming.
She gave his dick little kisses first, allowing it to recover from his first orgasm of the night. When he glared down at her, she placed the head into her mouth and suckled the ridge and slipped the tip of her tongue into his slit. He groaned and stood up, widening his stance and jerking on his pipe.
Yani worked his dick with a good little slut mouth. She made it sloppy and spit on the tip several times letting saliva fall on her breasts.
"Open that mouth wider…dassit…you know how to handle all that…I know you well girl…made you my wife so I can have you whenever I want…"
She moaned all over his dick, and the vibration curled his toes. His balls throbbed and he didn't warn her verbally at all that he was cumming again. He aimed for the front of her face and she knew from experience what was up. She tilted her head back and he painted steamy white streaks all over the left side of her cheek and neck.
Yani gazed at his cement-hard dick and knew the night was going to be vigorous and long. Glory to Bast and that heart-shaped herb! He would give her pussy a little respite though. Lowering his big body back down on the pallet, he pulled her down in front of him and asked her to lie on her back, keeping her knees up and her thighs open. He wanted to watch his cum drizzle out of her pussy. She obliged as he expected. Situating the pillows in a comfortable position behind his back, N'Jadaka stroked his dick and watched his wife hold open her pussy lips.
"Push it out if you can," he asked.
She didn't have to do too much because a heavy flow came out and slowly became clear as the air hit it.
"Can I try to get you pregnant?" he asked.
Yani grinned knowing that thought got him off the most and she played into it by gently rubbing on her clit and touching all of her delicate piercings one by one for his entertainment.
"You want to cum deep inside of me and put a baby in here?" she cooed.
He heard her angelic voice but only saw the drenched wet pink she caressed.
"I wanna fuck you and put a new baby in your pussy so bad, Yani!"
"Will you fuck me good, Killmonger?"
"Fuck yes…"
She had him gritting his teeth again as she rubbed that pretty vulva slowly.
"I might be pregnant now. You put a lot in me," she teased.
He groaned and his dick jumped hot and ready in his hand.
"Maybe we should put the special lubricant inside me so I can get ready for that big dick again…huh?" she moaned softly.
He groaned louder knowing good and well that special lubricant helped her deal with long continual fucking from him. She was ready to play Lets Make A Baby. But only to amuse him.
He came hard in his hand. With her legs open, he rejoiced in the satisfaction of having an orgasm by watching her masturbate. The quivering in her pussy pushed more of his cum out into a pool of wetness on the sheets. He milked his dick thinking about how many times he was going to fuck her before the sun rose again.
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ALL'S FAIR (IN LOVE AND MERGERS) ✩ SATORU GOJO
✴︎ summary: you're not sure what's worse -- being an arranged marriage or being an arranged marriage with the person who used to be your best friend.
✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, arranged marriage au, gojo and reader are both heirs to large companies, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, lots of fluff + banter, gojo is down bad, geto makes an appearance, handjobs (f!+m! receiving), oral (f!+m! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, dom! + sub!gojo, degradation (slut), breeding kink, gojo has a praise kink, semi public sex, office sex, tiny amount of sexting, under the desk oral (m!receiving), pet names (sweetheart, princess, baby), pregnancy mentions
✴︎ wc: 16,381 (why do i do this to myself?)
“Why do you look so down, Princess?” Your eyes flicker up from your book, forcing your expression to stay disinterested — the one emotion Satoru hated, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your fiancé?”
“Don’t call yourself that,” you snap, and his lips curl at your reaction, “what are you so smug about? You’re stuck in the same position as me,”
“And what’s that?” You close your book, glaring daggers at his all too perfect face.
“Marrying your worst enemy.”
It wasn’t always like this.
Satoru Gojo used to be your friend — your best friend in fact. The fact your families’ companies were rivals often meant you ran in the same social circles more often than not. And it meant more than one boring adult party that the two of you were stuck with each other.
The two of you had become inseparable — attending the same prestigious schools with the most pretentious children, though the two of you were no exceptions. But you liked to think you were.
And you didn’t realize your feelings for Satoru, until someone else had.
“Do you want to hang out on Friday?” You ask, flipping through the channels as the two of you watched TV, looking for something other than the second half of movies and the reruns of shows you didn’t care for.
“I can’t, I’m going to the formal,” he replies, not looking up from his phone, and you pause.
“You’re going to that?” You raise an eyebrow, “we’ve never went,”
“Well I never had someone ask me who I wanted to go with,” his eyes flicker up from his phone, a smirk on his lips, “you jealous?”
Your reply leaves your lips like whiplash, “You wish,” you cross your arms, but you can’t help ask the question burning on your lips, “who are you going with?”
“Akari,” and you scoff, “what?”
“That girl goes out with a new guy every week,” you shake your head, “you’re better off staying at home with me,”
“So you are jealous,” he hums, leaning back on the couch, “if you wanted to go with me, all you had to do was ask, Princess,”
Your cheeks flush, which you make up for in indignancy and sharp words, “Don’t call me that,” the nickname your family affectionately had called you had become Satoru’s favorite thing to call you, “I’m just telling you to be careful — that girl isn’t someone you should trust with your feelings,”
“I think I’ll use my own judgment instead of someone who hasn’t even been on a single date before,” his tone is far too biting and his accuracy is far too sharp — and you can’t stop your face from dropping, and his lips part - regret flashing across his features, “princess—“
“Go home, Satoru,” you rise, brushing past him, “you know the way out,”
“Princess—“ he tries to reach for your hand, but you slap it away. His hand retracts like he’d been burned.
“Please, go,” you open the door for him, and he does, and little do you know that would be one of the last times you spoke.
The day of the formal arrives, the two of you hadn’t seen each other outside of class since that day. But Satoru did see you at the dance that night - on the arm of his former best friend, Suguru — the same one he had a falling out with a year ago. He doesn’t say a word to you, but you don’t miss the hurt in his eyes - but you wonder why it was there in the first place - and why he was acting like you put it there.
It all goes to hell after.
The Gojo Corporation poaches one of your family’s biggest clients in a shady backroom deal, breaking their truce and your family’s trust. Arguments and stress reach a peak over the phone and lines are drawn and metaphorical guns are drawn.
And you and Satoru are caught in the crossfire.
Not that you weren’t firing shots yourself.
It wasn’t until you pulled Satoru into a secluded classroom, and you shut the door behind the two of you. Even with the sunglasses perched on his nose as always, he flinches in the bright light of the sun setting behind you, dipping the classroom in a blazing orange — light sensitivity nearly required him to wear his sunglasses out, but he certainly made a statement in them — though what didn’t he make a statement in?
“What are we going to do about our families?” you chew your lip — you had listened this morning to your father rant about the Gojo family — unkind words to say about them all, even Satoru himself, who your father had treated as a second son — and now he was grilling you about what you had told him about the family business.
“What can we do?” His arms are crossed and his gaze is upwards, “they are going to do what they want,”
You stare at him, your heart cracks, blood rushing in your ears, “Satoru, if this gets worse, we won’t be able to be friends,” you refuse to let your voice break.
“So what? I know the way out, don’t I?” But your heart did break, “I’m sure Suguru could comfort you,”
Your eyes burn, but you can’t, you can’t let him see you cry, “Why are you so upset? You had a date—“
“And mine wasn’t the person who backstabbed me,” he bites back, “what my family did is done, and so are we,” and he doesn’t look back when he leaves.
And it was good — because he didn’t see you cry.
And now you sat with him in your living room, trying to process the fact you would be legally married soon enough.
“Worst enemy? I know you liked to embellish princess, but that seems excessive,” he snorts, “glad to know I haven’t escaped your thoughts these years,”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” and he grins his shit eating grin, and it’s almost as if no time has passed, except the person who sits before you isn’t a seventeen year old with an attitude of a shithead — it’s an adult man (albeit with the same attitude).
“Don’t need to - you already do that for me, baby,” he winks, and you don’t know whether you want to slap him or strangle him. Either way, you wanted him to shut up, “shouldn’t we at least try to make the best of this?”
“The best of what?” You scoff, ready for your veins to burst out of your head, if only to spare you the agony of this conversation, “Gojo, we were best friends a million years ago and then we weren’t and now we’re getting married - all on the whims of our families, so how do we make the best of it?”
He pauses a moment, almost thoughtfully, “I was your best friend?”
And you rise to your feet, “this is impossible,” you brush past him, but he catches you by your wrist, his thumb grazing your pulse.
“Princess, I’m sorry,” he says, and you stop, meeting his gaze reluctantly, his lips part, “that you were so annoying in high school—“
“Fuck you,” and you storm off as he cackles, but you don’t notice the small smile on his lips that stays as he watches you.
And nor do you hear him say, “God, I missed you.”
“This is ridiculous,” you mutter under your breath, as you place back the millionth dress you looked at, “we’re hardly celebrities but we have to make a public appearance?”
Your families wanted the marriage to be portrayed as a love marriage in the media - childhood friends falling in love after reconnecting - the thing of love stories. The thing that would circle the drain on social media on cute threads of meetcutes and what ifs. When in fact, you were being forced on a shopping date with an already well paid and positioned paparazzi ready to take pictures of this charade.
“You may not be, Princess, but I am quite the catch,” Satoru takes the attention in stride, not only of the paparazzi, but the passersby who gawked at the two of you. It was true, Satoru was nearly always listed as an eligible bachelor in far too many of these lists that existed, if not the eligible bachelor, and yet here you were, glued to his side like some taudry accessory.
“So does that mean if I just toss you away, someone else will catch you?” You grumble, and he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses.
“Like it or not, you caught me,” he flashes you those pearly whites, and you supposed he blinded you as you stumble forward, tripping. But you don’t kiss the pavement — but you almost wish you do. He catches you, his arm around your waist, the other on your shoulder, and his eyes graze over you in a flash of concern, and then amusement, “and I’m not going anywhere this time,”
And you flush, the clicks of cameras in the distance snapping you back to reality, as you right yourself with a fake smile plastered on your lips. You brush his shirt off as lovingly as you can, “And if I go?”
His lips only curl into his obnoxiously charming smile, as he gestures for you to walk on, “I’ll follow, Princess,”
Finally the trip is over, and Satoru is driving the both of you back, “I’m surprised you took a day off for this,” he remarks, “usually you work all week,”
“Well I wasn’t given much of a choice, now was I?” And then you glance at him, furrowing your brow, “how do you know how often I work?”
“What’s the phrase? Keep your enemies close, and your lovers closer?” He gives a wry grin as you scowl at him, “you’re not surprised I kept tabs on you, are you?”
“Well, no,” because you did the exact same. You pinned the blame on late nights and doom scrolling on social media — curiosity killed the cat.
“And now I know you kept tabs on me,” he looks far too satisfied with himself, “I’m flattered,”
“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, “it’s not like you’re that interesting to begin with,”
“Sure,” he smirks, and then you glance outside, noticing you were getting further out from home rather than closer.
“Where are we going?” You sit up, glancing around — you didn’t recognize the area.
“Oh, you didn’t think our date was over yet, did you?” his lips curl, his eyes still on the road, “we are just going to a more private location,”
“If you take me to a hotel, I will slap you,” you murmur, and he laughs, a sound that makes your stomach flip.
“I didn’t know a princess’s mind could be in the gutter,” he remarks, his fingers flexing on the wheel, a small infinity tattoo on his ring finger, and your mind really then all but fled to the gutter as you thought what else he could use those fingers for.
“Oh my mind goes a lot of places,” this was growing more dangerous — for your tongue and for your heart.
And he notices your gaze flickering to his hands, and his lips curl, “I think I’d like to familiarize myself with the places your mind goes, Princess,” You flush, “but that’s for a different day.”
“Where are you taking me anyway?”
“We’re almost there, just enjoy the ride,” you eventually pull up to a park, and he leaves the car, opening the door for you, “after you, my lady,”
You slide out of the car, as he shuts the door behind you, and then pulls a basket out of the back, “Is there tape and rope in there?” You raise an eyebrow.
“Didn’t know you were into that,” he winks, as you glare at him, “it’s a picnic basket - this is a nice spot to watch the sunset,”
“You watch sunsets?”
“Only with you,” you roll your eyes.
“Such a dork - are these the lines you use on all your dates? And don’t say only with me,” you add quickly, and he snorts.
“You catch on quick,” and he takes your hand, leading you along, “come on,”
His hand envelops yours, his fingers eventually intertwining with yours, his warmth flooding your body, but you can’t urge yourself to pull away.
A bottle of sparkling cider and a charcuterie board later, the two of you watch the sun begin its descent, blazing colors bleeding into one another.
“Why are you doing this?” You ask, looking over your glass as you sip, “even when we used to hang out, I was the one to bring the snacks,”
“Well times change,” he replies, “plus you’re the one who always stopped me from buying snacks,”
“You always bought only sweets — it was always chocolate, sugar, and desserts,” you roll your eyes, “I see you got over that,”
“Nah, I just decided to buy things I know you like,” and your heart traitorously squeezes, but then he points, “look,” and your gaze falls onto the sunset and you gasp softly.
“It’s beautiful,” you sigh, and you don’t notice Satoru’s gaze on your face, a small smile on his lips.
“It is,” and you look back at him, his eyes shifting to you again.
“You never answered my question,” you say, “why are we doing this?”
“Why wouldn’t we? We’re getting married, Princess, did you forget?” He expertly dodges the question, swiftly leaping over a landmine, but you weren’t one to mince words or hesitate to do a direct assault.
“We’re getting married, it doesn’t mean we have to date,” you tilt your head, “Gojo, tell me—“
“Call me Satoru,” his words are so soft, hesitant even, as if his words could break apart any second if he had spoken them any quieter.
It’s a fragility he doesn’t often grace you with - that’s he’s maybe never given to you, and you don’t wish to break it.
But you’re also scared - scared that this will break yours.
“Satoru,” you whisper, and he smiles — the same smile he’d greet you with when you would meet up after school, the same smile when he’d beat you at whatever game you guys were playing, and the same smile you hadn’t seen in so long, “why are you doing all of this?”
“Is it not obvious?” He’s leaning closer and you only realize that you’re doing the same when your wrist hurts from leaning on your hand.
“Nothing is obvious when it comes to you, Satoru,” his lips warm yours with his breath, and the sun has set - there’s no other explanation for the warmth blooming on your skin other than him—
Ring. Ring. Ring.
His phone ringing sends both of you flinching apart, but his eyes don’t leave you for a lingering moment, before he picks up.
“Hello,” his voice is unwavering even after the moment you shared, you barely hear what he says over the blood thundering in your ears, “yes, we’ll be home shortly. Ok. Bye,”
He turns to look back at you, “My parents were wondering where we went,” and you nod, “we should get back,” and he begins to pack away the things,
“Satoru—“ you start, but he grabs your hands, tugging you forward.
“What?” he smiles, “not ready to part with me yet, princess?”
You scowl, pushing him away, brushing past him to the car, “Forget it,”
And he catches you by your wrist and pulls you back to him, your back against his front, “I don’t want to forget it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I—”
And his phone rings again, and he sighs, showing you that it was your father this time, putting his phone on silent, “Our parents have impeccable timing,” and the moment is broken, as the two of you walk back to the car in relative silence, the sun long sunk below the horizon, and the moment along with it.
The wedding comes and goes without much ado — it was a private ceremony done with only your families and a few close family friends. And aside from a photo shoot that was to be “leaked” of the two of you looking far too lovey dovey that wound up circulating the media drain and ended up causing you and Satoru to keep a low profile for a week or two, not much of your life changed. The only thing being that you and Satoru slowly start to move in together, each moving your things into separate bedrooms, not that you’re around enough to even notice a shift as the work piled on due to the merger, only accumulates, and as do your late nights.
You come home again, back to your shared apartment, late at night, shutting the door softly behind you. You slip your shoes off, along with your jacket by the door, before setting your things down. You stretch your sore muscles, your stomach crying for mercy of the deprivation you had put it through today, and you allow it to lead you to the kitchen.
Satoru was surprisingly neat, aside from his own room that was a disaster zone not worth entering. The living spaces were always clean, as was the kitchen (though you had a sneaking suspicion he had hired a cleaning service to specifically tidy up when you were gone (due to the lingering lemony scent every surface had at times). You rummage through the refrigerator as quietly as you could, but not quietly enough as the lights flick on, and you feel akin to a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
“I feel like I’ve seen the mailman more than my own wife this week,” Satoru stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door, a small grin on his lips, but a hint of something else in his eyes — concern? You don’t have the time to decipher the feeling, as your mind chooses to replay the phrase “my wife” on repeat.
“The merger has been killer to deal with — all the diligence requests has buried us,” you grumble, as you grab a box of cereal off the top of the refrigerator and the milk from the inside, and he’s holding a bowl and a spoon, “thanks,” as you reach for it, he holds it away from you.
“You know there’s something called delegating that you should try sometime, princess,” he says, tilting his head, “otherwise, you’re likely to run yourself into the ground,”
“It sounds like you care,” he puts down the bowl and spoon, grabbing the cereal and milk from you, and fixing a bowl for you, as you rub your eyes, sitting on the stool by the island.
His lips curl, “Who said I didn’t?”
You lay on the counter, staring up at him, “Didn’t know my husband could be anything but annoying,” and you enjoy the way his eyebrows shoot up, and it may have been your tired eyes, but you swore a small pink flush settled his way onto his cheeks, “cute,” you mumble, the word escaping you before you could stop it.
“What?” his eyes snap to yours, but he only finds them closed, the soft snores from your lips told him you weren’t pretending, as he stares at you, biting his lip, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, “what are you doing to me, princess?” he murmurs.
And the next morning when you wake, you find yourself tucked into bed, as you roll over, to find your alarms had been turned off, and you were far too late to several meetings you had that morning.
You jolt up, before you find a note stuck to your shirt, you pause in your panic, to peel it off and read it:
Canceled your meetings for today and had your staff handle the ones they could deal with. You’re taking a break. You need it. - Satoru.
You wanted to protest, but even as you willed yourself to try and check your email, your body was screaming in agreement with Satoru, and you sighed, lying back down in bed, as you drifted into a dreamless sleep, with the note still in your hand.
~~~~~
“Gojo, get back in bed,” you cross your arms in front of his doorway, “you’re sick,”
“I’m fine,” he pouts, his normally pale skin flushed with a red tinge that gave away his fever, his eyes bloodshot from a restless night, and yet he still looked as perfect as ever, if not a bit rumpled from his askew hair and ruffled clothes, “I have to—”
“Rest,” you say, gently pushing him backwards towards his bed, “you need rest. You made me rest, and now it’s your turn,”
“But—”
“Satoru,” and the use of his name stops him in his tracks, as his knees buckle as his legs hit the end of his bed, “please?”
His resistance crumbles, “Princess, I’m fine—” and you press your forehead to his, making his breath catch, your face far too close far too fast.
“You’re burning up,” you ease him back into bed, as you roll your sleeves up, “will you be okay? I’m going to run out and get some supplies - have you taken any medicine?”
He shakes his head, “You can send out someone,” he says, reaching for his phone, but you grab it, “Princess-“
“I’m texting everyone that you’re sick and that you can’t make it in for the next two days while you recover,” you pocket his phone, putting it on silent, “consider this payback,” and you’re pulling on your jacket, “and I’m going to get you some things. I don’t need to send someone out. Do you want anything? I can’t get anything sweet because it will make your cough worse, but is there anything that you want?”
He shakes his head, as you snap your fingers and head out of the room, before returning with cold medicine, “I’ll give you this for now, and then I’ll grab some more while I’m out,”
You pour the medicine into the cup, and he sits up as best he could, reaching for the medicine cup, but you cup his chin, feeding it to him. He feels like his body is burning hotter from your touch than it is the fever, “I have to make sure you drink all of it, you can’t leave half of it in the cup like you did when we were kids,”
“You remember that?” he mumbles, as you help him lie down again, your hands gentle as you help lean back, and you tilt your head.
“I remember every ridiculous thing you did,” you snort, as you check to make sure you got everything — phone, wallet, keys — “just rest here, and call me if you need anything, ok?” his eyes are already starting to droop, heavy with sleep, and he gives a small nod.
And he catches you by your wrist, “Do you have to go?” he mumbles, pulling your hand close to his face, “I don’t want you to go,” his words slur, and he’s asleep in a moment, his hand still clutching yours to his face, lips brushing against your palm.
Heat flares up your cheeks, as you stand, motionless, his soft snores filling the room, as you manage to tug your hand away, and you stand over him, his mouth in an adorable pout, as sweat glistened on his forehead, white locks sticking to the damp skin. You leave for a moment to grab a cold compress for his forehead, and you come back, brushing his hair back to place the compress on. He shivers ever so slightly, but you just rub his head slowly, and he drifts back into sleep.
“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, and you wonder, how often has Satoru been cared for by maids or employees rather than his family? How often had they passed the buck of caring for their son to others as if it was more of a chore than a privilege to take care of someone they loved.
You leave his phone on video call with yours so you can keep an eye on him as he sleeps, even if you were going down the street, you didn’t want to leave him alone completely. Instead of music, you listened to the cacophony of his soft snores and shifting of his sheets. You grabbed the things you needed - medicine, supply for meals, vitamin water, vitamin c supplements, and anything else you could think of.
You return, door shutting softly behind you as you hang up the call, and set everything down on the counter. You poke your head into Satoru’s room to find him still fast asleep, and you remove the cold compress, going to replace it with a new one, but his hand catches yours as it brushes your forehead, and he mumbles your name.
And you flush — were you sure you weren’t getting sick at this point?
You sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “You’re as touchy as you were when we were kids,” and he was — there wasn’t a moment that Satoru wasn’t all over you before the ages of puberty — holding hands, hugging, even laying on top of you — but it was innocent. But even as you got older, it was poking, it was a leg over yours, it was grabbing your wrist instead of your hand.
And now, your hand was dwarfed by his, consuming your wrist and hand with his own, and it was so warm — though exacerbated by his fever. And you couldn’t help but want to lace your fingers through his. But — you pulled your hand away and replace his cold compress ��� you couldn’t afford thoughts like that.
Not now.
You cooked soup for him, filled with vegetables and nutrients that he clearly did not get enough of, made freshly squeezed orange juice, and put the supplements you wanted him to take on the tray you had found in the kitchen.
You washed your hands, as you start to clean up, your back to his room, and you hear Satoru say your name.
You turn and see him in the doorway, “What are you doing?”
“I should be asking you that,” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes, “what’s all this?”
“Lunch,” you walk over, waving him back into bed, “you need to rest,”
“Did you make me lunch?” he asks slowly, and you help him back into bed, as he frowns, “you didn’t have—”
“You’re my husband, Satoru,” you say, tilting your head, “I’m going to take care of you and not let you work yourself to the bone while you have a cold,”
And his lips curl at the words slowly, “Your husband,” he repeats, as if the words were foreign to him, and your cheeks flush as your words that were embarrassing enough to say linger in the air, “thank you,” he mumbles, as you nod, trying to calm your utterly burning cheeks before entering with the tray.
Satoru sits in bed still, more coherent than a few minutes before, a small smile on his lips as you enter his view, and you place the tray carefully on his bed, “Will you feed me?” And your eyes flit up to his innocent baby blues full of skies that you couldn’t say no to — and he knew that, “please?”
And now you’re feeding him, your lips carefully blowing on the hot soup as you spoon fed him, and he takes each one, “is it good?”
He nods, “It is, I didn’t know you could cook. The last thing I remember you making me was a microwave brownie that you burned,” and you rolled your eyes.
“That was because you told me to microwave it for too long,” you pout, and he laughs, sending him into a coughing fit, “karma,” and he scowls at you, before his lips split into a grin, “what?”
“Must have been pretty good in my past life,” he says, as you blow on another spoonful, “to end up with a pretty little wife like you, Princess,”
And you nearly drop the spoon, a few droplets slipping from the utensil, as he makes you flustered for the eighteenth time today — “Satoru,” you chide, and you’re not even sure what you are chiding him for — his word on a loop in your mind, “i think you’re high on cold medicine, or your fever,”
You don’t think he had ever called you pretty before.
And he leans forward pressing his forehead to yours, “I have no fever right now,” he whispers, his eyes glancing at the tray, “and I haven’t taken my cold medicine yet,”
Your words catch in your throat, and you’re swallowing thickly, as your eyes drift to his lips and back again, “Toru,” and you can’t lean away from him, he’s pulling you in, like he always did.
But then he pulls back, his cheeks flushed, “I think I should lie down,” and you blink, as you nod hastily.
“Of course,” you grab the tray and flee, leaving his medicine and water on the bedside table, heart thumping against your ribs and blood rushing to your cheeks.
And you don’t hear him grumble, “If only I wasn’t sick.”
After Satoru gets better, you barely see him. It feels empty in the house without his presence. You had grown accustomed to his loud, obtrusive presence, the clothes half thrown in the laundry basket, his snacks stacked up in the pantry and sometimes on the counters, and his cologne wafting through the halls. It seems all of that has faded with time, as he does his best to spend his time at work, and away from you.
After the billionth time of this, you get a phone call from his colleague, Nanami, asking for you to come and fetch him. You furrow your brow as he texts you the address of a bar near his work, and you arrive to find him passed out at a table, drink glasses and small plates littered the tabletop, his pale skin flushed, as he snored slightly as he slept.
His colleague too was flushed, but still sat with drink in hand looking utterly irritated and bemused, “How much did he drink?”
“Maybe two drinks?” and you raise an eyebrow, “he’s a lightweight, but he likes to pretend he isn’t,” he snorts, shaking his head, “did you two have a fight?”
You tilt your head, as you check on him, fingers brushing over his skin — he was so warm from the alcohol, “No, why do you ask?”
And Satoru is mumbling your name, again and again, pouting, “Is that you, my wife?” you flush, and that was your cue to get him out of there. Nanami helps you get him to his work car, luckily that came equipped with a driver, and you slide in beside him, as he dozes, his head drifting to your shoulder. His breath is warm against your neck, as he nestles into the soft skin of your nape, and you can feel his lips move, only catching your name between soft sighs and snores.
“Satoru,” you mutter, brushing his hair from his eyes, “what did you do?”
The driver helps you get him inside, and you’re left with him, his body leaning against yours on the couch, as you rouse him, “Satoru, wake up,” your hands cup his cheeks, and his eyes flutter open blearily.
You can still smell the scent of alcohol on his breath — and you know it’s sweet from the scent that drifts from him. Sometimes you wonder if he would taste sweet with how much sugar he consumes, but you brush that thought to the back of your head, as he finally speaks.
“Are you a dream?” he murmurs, and you have to suppress your laugh at his puppy dog stare.
“Don’t think so, Satoru,” you pinch his cheek lightly, “see? I’m real,”
He smiles, so gentle that it almost takes you aback, “Too real,” his hand slides over yours, flattening it against his cheek, “your hand is so soft, just like when we were kids, and we’d always hold hands anywhere we went,”
You swallow thickly, wondering if your cheeks were hotter than his were from the alcohol, “Well my family hasn’t sold me into manual labor yet, so they’ll stay that way,” and his eyes widen almost comically.
“I wouldn’t let them do that,” he says, almost every other word slurred, “can’t do that to my wife,” and your traitorous heart squeezes, despite itself, despite everything telling you that it didn’t mean anything — that he was drunk — and the million other reasons to brush it away, your heart does what it does best — takes it to heart, “I missed you so much,”
And he’s burying his face in your shoulder, warm breath against your skin making you shiver as you hold him gently, “then why have you been avoiding me?” He’s mumbling into your shoulder now, as you can’t help but laugh, “Stop, you’re tickling me.”
And his stare lifts and settles upon you, stopping your breath in its tracks, “I didn’t want to avoid you, I just was…” he mumbles something incoherent, “I couldn’t face you,”
“Why?” and it’s objectively cute the way he pouts, his face scrunching up like a child, his brow adorably furrowed, as he mutters under his breath slurred words you can’t make out, “let’s get you to bed — if you promise not to avoid me anymore,” you hold up a finger to his face.
He nods, lips still in the same pout, “promise,” he murmurs, as you help him into bed, but as you do, he grabs you, tugging you into bed with him with a yelp, his arms trapped you against him, as his face snuggles into your back, “stay,”
Your skin burns at his touch, his face buried into your back, his arms wrapped impossibly around you, “Satoru—”
“Please?” and the resistance you have crumbles, as you sigh, relaxing as best you could into his touch, “thank you, Princess,” he mumbles something else you can’t make out, before falling asleep.
And you bite your lip, ignoring how your skin feels under his touch — how were you ever going to sleep now?
But you do.
Satoru wakes with a slightly pounding head, a small groan caught in the back of his throat, as he stirs at the bright sunlight streaming in, his eyes fluttering awake to find you. His breath catches, as he stares at you. Your mouth slightly ajar, you softly snore as you sleep, your head resting against his arm, and he swallows thickly, as memories of last night trickle in.
And he nearly groans. He had avoided you to stop himself, to hold himself back from embarrassing himself, and he had gone and pulled you into bed with him after getting drunk. How pathetic was it that it only took you referring to him as your husband for all his walls to come crumbling down? Not that those walls ever stood a chance against you — it was easy for him to pull away from everyone, as if he had a barrier around him, stopping anything from coming near. But you — you were one thing that could penetrate his infinity — and the one thing he wanted to be infinite, if only for him.
His cheeks burn at his revelations and he can only be thankful you’re still asleep as he stares at you — god, he had almost let it slip twice last night. He had mumbled it twice, but from what he remembered, you hadn’t made out the words.
His cheeks burned, god he had said the words twice, and you didn’t even hear him, but the words had left his lips. And how many years had he been waiting to say them?
His fingers caress your cheek, making sure you were still asleep before he said them for a third time, “I love you.”
“How many social events must be inflicted upon us?” you mutter, pressed next to Satoru at the bar, as Satoru sips a soda instead of the alcohol they offered — if only to avoid the disaster that was the last time. But still, the lack of alcohol only makes your touch worse without its dulling effects, “and why did we need to go to this?”
“C’mon sweetheart, it’s not so bad,” Satoru smiles, his eyes skimming over your new suit that you had donned for the occasion, “I like seeing you all dressed up,”
“Well I rather be dressed down at home,” and he raises an eyebrow and you flush, “i mean in a t-shirt and shorts, you absolute perv,”
“Whatever you say, princess,” and you’re too busy elbowing him to notice who's walking over, until you hear your name.
You spot Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pursed, as you spot Suguru holding a hand up in greeting, patented grin on his lips, “Yo!”
“Suguru, it’s good to see you,” you greet, as he sweeps you up in a hug, and you shoot a look at Satoru, nudging him to be polite at the very least.
“Satoru, long time no see,” Suguru says, and Satoru plasters a fake smile on his lips.
“It has been,” and the three of you make pleasant small talk about your work — Suguru’s family was in a business adjacent to the work your families did.
“I heard about the merger your companies are doing, how have preparations been?” you open your mouth to answer, but Satoru gets to it first, his arm curling around your waist.
“It’s been going well, our marriage was the first step after all, wasn’t it, baby?” and you flush as Satoru does, doing your best not to glare at him.
“It was,” you smile, as Suguru raises his eyebrows.
“I hadn’t heard you both had married — congratulations,”
And then you’re beckoned by your family, and you slip away for a moment, going to speak to them about one thing or another, leaving Satoru and Suguru alone.
“It’s too bad we lost touch all these years,” Satoru sips at his drink.
“You don’t have to say that, Satoru,” Suguru replies, his grin melting away, “I know part of the reason was the business with our families companies, but I also know that it was personal,” and Satoru follows his eyes to you, as you laugh at something your mother said, “how has married life been treating you both?”
And Satoru glares, his grip tight around his glass, “Is your interest personal?”
“It’s not, but I see that you still haven’t been honest with each other,” he smiles over the lip of his drink, “was this marriage arranged by your families?” and Satoru’s silence was enough to confirm it, “well you should be careful, a marriage is a fragile thing, especially without love,”
“Is that a threat?” and Suguru’s dark irises meet his, full of mirth.
“No, just an observation, Satoru,” and you make your re-appearance, looking between the pair, sensing the tension, as your hand curls around Satoru’s, “It was lovely seeing you both. I hope to see more of you.”
And with that he’s gone, “What was that about?” you ask slowly, and Satoru can’t meet your gaze, only sipping his soda, “Satoru?”
“It’s nothing, princess, don’t worry about it,” and you tilt your head, your brow furrowed.
“That’s it,” you sigh, as you glance between the two of them, Suguru’s gaze still lingering on the two of you, “I know what this is about,” you declare, stepping ever closer to Satoru, your fingers brushing at his shoulder, sending his heart into a gallop.
“Princess—” your hand is sliding up his neck, brushing at his undercut, and your lips curl.
“I didn’t know you had an undercut,” and he can’t form words to respond to you, as you tug him closer, your lips were so close now, “it’s kind of hot,” and his mouth is so dry, his eyes can’t help but flicker down to your lips again, as you lean forward, pulling his head closer, closer, closer—
And you kiss him, it's barely a brush at first, but then you pull him in again, and he can taste the wine on your lips now, as your lips meet, his eyes fluttering shut as his hand slides to cup your face, the other around your waist. And finally you part, small pants leaving your lips, as your fingers toy with the hair resting on the back of his neck, smiling at him, as if you had done this a million times before.
And he wanted to do it a million times more. His fingers trace the length of your jaw, delighting in the shiver you give as he touches you, and wondering what other noises he could pull from you.
“Is he still watching?” you whisper, as you smooth over his collar, and he blinks, his eyes following yours to Suguru, who glances at the two of you before looking away, “think we convinced him?”
And his heart sinks just as high as it had soared, “what?” he murmurs, confused.
“He suspected us, right?” you continue with the phony smile on your lips, the heated lust in your gaze, and your soft touches — and it was all enough to break him.
But he doesn’t. He’s Satoru Gojo — he can’t be allowed to break.
So he gives a smile instead, “Yeah, I think we convinced him.”
He can’t help be quiet on the drive home, and he senses your unease, fidgeting in the seat beside him, your attempts to fill the silence falling on deaf ears, and you eventually stop trying, settling to look out of the window instead, until the two of you pull inside your driveway.
You both head inside, and the door shuts behind you, and he watches you struggle to take off your heels, the buckle not cooperating, as you lift your leg to undo it.
But then he’s kneeling before you, undoing your heels for you, as you stammer, “No, Gojo, you don’t have to—”
But his touch is gentle as he helps you out of your heels, one by one, his fingers brushing against your ankles, and then he rises, and for a split second, you forgot how tall he really was.
“No, I want to, because you’re my wife,” and his fingers brush against your jaw. “And I want your thoughts to be of me when I touch you, and not of someone else,” and he tilts your chin up, thumb dragging against your lips before he kisses you.
It was gentle but insistent — and far, far too fleeting, as he pulls away, “and I’ve told you before — I’m your husband, call me Satoru.”
And with that he’s gone, leaving you speechless and alone in your entryway.
You can’t sleep. For several nights.
You replay the moment over and over, the kiss, his words, and all of it.
What the fuck. Were you really up all night because of Satoru Gojo? You lay on your stomach, kicking your feet in frustration as you bury your hot face in your pillow. Your husband was going to be the death of you.
And especially with tomorrow.
Satoru’s family was hosting an event to announce the merger, and you stood in your bathroom, getting ready. You had opted for a baby blue dress that Satoru had picked for you when he had insisted on taking you shopping. He had winked and said you could wear his gaze this way. And you had only rolled your eyes at the time, but now it felt you could feel his eyes upon you.
“You look beautiful,” and you whirl around to find him standing in your doorway, a small smile on your lips, and you flush. It doesn’t go unnoticed, “is that all it takes to embarrass you now, Princess? I used to have to work a lot harder,”
You glare at him, “Shut up,” and your eyes flick to his untied tie, and it’s unspoken, as you walk over to tie his tie for him, “how did you even tie this the day of the formal if you don’t know how to?”
“I didn’t wear one,” he shrugs, his attention making you mess up the knot twice, “I only went to make you jealous anyway,”
Your fingers pause, as your eyes meet, “What?”
“I don’t want to play games anymore, Princess,” the back of his fingers brush against your cheek, “or at least, if I’m going to play, I’m going to play to win,” and you continue tying his tie, if only to distract yourself from your stomach doing flips, “do you know how it feels to want someone for so long only to end up married, but it’s not either of your choice?” And you swallow, not daring to look at him, “because I do.”
“Satoru,” your hands are shaking now, “I-“
“I don’t expect an answer, I don’t expect anything to change,” he adjusts his tie as you finish, turning his collar down, his blue button up matching your dress perfectly, “but I wanted you to know where I stood, and know wherever you are,” his gaze rakes over your form, the same color as the dress than clung to your skin, “I’ll always be here for you,”
“Satoru—“ but he gets a call — as always with impeccable timing, his parents were asking when they would be arriving. He hangs up shortly after, offering his arm with a smile.
“Shall we?” And you take his arm, ignoring the flip your heart does when his arm curls around yours.
The drive over is uneventful, but not the same can be said for the event itself. The merger event was being held at Satoru’s childhood home — the home Satoru had grown up in and around — and never wanted to be at.
“Are you okay?” you ask, your arm still curled around Satoru’s arm, as you glance at him, his shoulders tense and lips tight, before your concern makes the tension melt away a moment, rolling off his shoulders like snow on a spring day.
“I’m fine,” and you’re unconvinced, “just this place is like time has stood still,” he chuckles, his eyes finding the place where the two of you had cracked the chandelier fucking around with a ball inside, “look, still there,”
You snort, “I’m surprised your mother never noticed,”
“She did, she gave me hell for it,” he sips his drink, “I just didn’t tell you,”
“Why?”
“There was a lot I didn’t tell you,” his eyes snap to yours, his pain almost too visceral as he glances around the room he had grown up in — and you could feel him in this room, the ghost of his past roaming the halls, “why do you think I spent so much time at your house?”
“Because of my incredible company?” you half-joke, lips forced into a small smile, but he laughs, rolling his eyes.
“That too,” he hums, his fingers tracing up and down against your wrist sending a wave of heat down your spine.
“Well, you always have an escape now, don’t you?” you intertwine your fingers, “our home is always graced with the presence of your wife,”
He grins, the first actual smile you had seen all evening, “How lucky for you that it’s also graced with the presence of your incredibly handsome husband,”
And you open your mouth to respond, before Satoru’s father interrupts, his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, making him stiffen, “Son,” and his icy blue eyes slide to you, “and my daughter, would you mind if I steal my son for a moment?” it always struck you how different his eyes were from Satoru — the coldness as opposed to the warmth.
You glance at Satoru, and he gives a slight nod, “No, of course not,” you step away, as he pulls Satoru into a side room, and you linger nearby for him, mingling as best you can, when Satoru emerges, eyes downcast and fists clenched, “Satoru-“
“I’m okay,” he plasters on an easy smile, “it’s fine—“
“We’re leaving,” you grab his hand, “let’s go,” and he’s staring at you, as you drag him from the party, wordless.
“But your parents, my parents—”
“Have done enough for us already,” you say, and the two of you walk to the car in silence, “I can drive—”
“It’s ok, I got it,” and you both shut the doors, as he begins to drive. The ride home is quiet, and you glance at him here and there, but you hold your tongue, “you’re not going to ask?”
“It’s your dad - do I need to ask?” You scoff, “It may has been years but I know he’s nothing but a bully — especially to you,”
You may have been young, but you remembered the phone calls Satoru would get, the lectures about his potential and responsibilities as the next heir, the scoldings he’d get for anything less than perfect. And you remembered the look he had the next day — the same one he had when he had come out of that room.
And you couldn’t protect him then, but you could do it now.
He sighs as he pulls the car into the driveway, “You don’t deserve that, Toru,”
“Then what do I deserve?” And he meets your gaze with glassy eyes, and you give a small smile, your fingers reaching for him, brushing along his jaw.
“Love,” and you lean across the gap of the console, across the line you had drawn, across the misunderstandings you had, and you chose him. Your fingers cup his cheek, drawing him close, as you hear his breathe hitch, “can I—”
“You don’t need to ask me even once, Princess,” and you kiss him, your lips grazing his again and again, until your lips finally slide against each other, deepening it as he presses himself against you, hand bearing against the armrest between the two of you. And you can taste the sweet taste of the strawberry dessert that he all but inhaled at the party, the hint of the soda he drank instead of wine, and something that tasted utterly and perfectly of him.
“Toru,” you murmur, but his lips keep finding yours, and you can’t breathe much less think, “I—”
He silences you with another kiss, his fingers finding purchase on the back of your neck as he tugs you impossibly closer, before his lips are tracing a path down your jaw.
“What was that, sweetheart?” he smiles against your skin, “you what?”
“You’re insufferable, you’re endlessly frustrating, and I swear I want to murder you at least twice a day,” and he smiles, as you gasp as his teeth graze your pulse, “but you’re also my best friend, and I—“ you make him meet your eyes, fingers cupping his chin, ocean blue eyes drowning you with their gaze, “I love you,”
And he blinks ever so slowly, before his lips curl into the most beautiful smile you had seen, before he’s kissing you again, as you gasp, “Toru—”
“I’m never going to stop now, Princess,” he grins endlessly, as he presses his forehead to yours, dragging a thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “waited too long for you, but I’d wait a million years to do that again,”
“So should I make you wait?” you tease, and he’s looking like a kicked puppy, pouting and wide eyed, before he’s pressing butterfly kisses to your face, and you’re laughing, “I’m just kidding, baby—”
And he pauses, “‘Baby?’” and his grin is a million watt, as he kisses you again, “never thought I’d see the day you’d call me a pet name,”
Your noses brush as you both laugh, “Well, you are a big baby,” and he pouts again, and you kiss them, “but you’re my baby,”
And you barely remember how you manage to stumble into your home. Frantic touches and hurried kisses and fumbling keys. As soon as the door slams shut, he has you pressed against it, fingers busy with undoing your buttons, as he grins against your mouth.
“Know how long I wanted you? How long I dreamt of this?” he bites your bottom lip, “had to call you my wife before i could call you mine — thought about you dating Suguru, about all the times I wanted to lean over during our movie nights as kids and just kiss you — and how much I regretted it,”
“So you admit you’ve been pining for me,” you gasp as his teeth drag against your neck now, biting and sucking, as your fingers thread through his white locks, “Satoru,” you moan, biting your lip.
“Judging by that moan, I’m not the only one,” he smiles cheekily, his hands sliding down your back to rest at the back of your thighs, large palms and thick fingers pressing through the all too thin tulle of your dress, “can’t wait to see how fuckin’ wet you are for me, Princess.”
You gasp at his vulgar words, a rush of heat that leaves your legs shaking under his touch, “Now whose mind is the gutter?” You tease, your fingers tugging at his tie, unfurling the knot.
“Always has been when it’s come to you, want to make this perfect princess filthy,” he coos, and he’s pulling you up against the door, your hands wrapped around his neck, “wanna make my beautiful little wife scream my name, don’t I?”
“Toru—“ you gasp as his teeth graze along your chest, tugging the neckline of your dress impossibly low, “you’re going to rip it—“ and he does, pulling the fabric apart with ease, “what the fu—“ and he’s swallowing your swears with his tongue.
“I’ll buy you another,” he grins, “in fact I’ll buy you any amount you want, as long as you keep letting me do this,”
And he’s peeling the dress off of you, dress falling to the floor in a shamble of tulle, and your skin flushes at the air hitting your bare skin, and shivers at the feeling of his sharp breath against your neck.
“How are you so fucking perfect?” he sighs, burying his face in the nape of your neck, pressing butterfly kisses down your collarbone, “I should get an award for patience — not being able to touch you, to kiss you, but living with you?”
His fingers are skimming down your underwear now, snapping the waistband against your skin, you gasp, “Fuck, Toru,” you whimper, “thought you’d talk less during this,” your fingers are undoing his shirt now.
“Oh I can think of a few things that could shut me up,” his lips curl deviously, and you’re slipping his shirt off his shoulders, your lips pressing to his collarbone.
“I don’t think you’d even shut up from that,” as he shivers when your teeth graze his soft skin, “I think you’ll only whine more,”
And his gaze is hot as his eyes meet yours again, as he grasps at your thighs and picks you up, “let’s see who’s the one whining at the end of this,” you squeal, grasping into his shoulders, as he carries you into his bedroom, as he settles you down on his bed. His eyes raking over you, panting and disheveled, he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, “can’t believe you’re all mine, Princess,”
“Satoru,” you’re reaching for him, but he pins your hand to the bed, “wha—“
“Patience, baby,” he purrs, as he presses his lips to your wrist, “let me enjoy you,”
He’s so pretty it’s unfair - the way his breath hits your skin steals yours, pretty pink lips parted as he runs his tongue over them, the same ache between your legs longing for that tongue between them. But it leaves you with so little of the patience he asks you to have — especially after over a decade of this in the making.
And your impatience is evident, you suppose, by the pout on your lips, and he laughs, “Want a kiss, baby?”
You don’t have the time to say you want much more than a kiss, as he humors you with a kiss, lips teasing you with their sweet taste, and you don’t fail to notice his smile as you lean up into his touch. And suddenly his hands brush down your bare sides, squeezing your hips, and you’re gasping, “Feel good, Princess? We’ve barely started—“
“You keep teasing me and I’ll make you regret it,” you grumble, between breathless kisses, the bite of your words dampened by the soft pants that leave your lips, “Toru, I swear—“
And his thumb presses against the wet patch on your underwear, flimsy layer of soaked fabric barely doing a thing to hide your arousal, “Not acting like a good little girl for me,” he tuts, as you keen against his touch, gasping as you throw your head back as he grinds his fingers against your puffy clit, “all it took was one touch to have you so pliant, huh? Should’ve done this a long time ago,”
“Stop,” you whine, and his grin only grows larger with such self satisfaction, you don’t know if your lust addled brain wants you to strangle his neck or his cock, “please, just—“
“Just what?” And his fingers are breaching past your underwear, just barely touching the outer lips of your cunt, “come on, Princess, use your big girl words, or are you already fucked stupid before I’ve barely touched you?”
“Motherfuck—“
“I will be one once I get my needy little wife pregnant, won’t I?” And his long fingers finally tug down your underwear — the wet schlick of the sticky fabric hitting the floor make him drag his teeth over those beautiful lips, “but we got plenty of time for that, after all,” his fingers tease the outer lips of your throbbing pussy, “practice makes perfect,”
And he sinks a long finger knuckle deep — and a whine crawls its way out of your throat, his fingers were thicker than yours were — and so much better. His thumb teases your clit in tight circles as he begins to tease your walls, reaching deep, deep, deeper, your slick starting to drip onto his palm, “God, you’re soaking me, Princess,” and your hips can’t resist the urge to grind against his touch, “oh, and where’s that mouth now?” you can barely see much less talk, words failing as he begins to stretch you out - his other large palm rested against your thigh, keeping your legs nice and spread for him.
He’s grinning, he sinks another finger into you, teasing your walls apart, beginning to finger fuck you in earnest, “my mouthy girl just needed to be fucked right? Didn’t she?” And all you can hear are the filthy sounds of your cunt, as his fingers piston in and out, “nothing to say, Princess?” And he spanks your pussy, making you yelp, a whine leaving your throat, “and you thought I’d be whiny, look at you now, baby,” his fingers cup your chin to force your glassy eyes to meet his darkened blues, “such a good fucked out wife for me,”
And a third finger joining right as he brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars as his thumb bullied your clit, eyes rolling back as he did, and he’s grinning, “my perfect princess and her perfect little pussy,”
You came with his name on your lips, panting and shaking as he held you steady, his fingers dripping with your release, as he pulled away, watching your cunt twitch around nothing, aching for his fingers.
You're coming down from your high, chest rising and falling, as you watch him gather your release on his fingers, toying with your cunt, before he sucks them clean, “Fuck,” you whimper, as he licks and cleans himself of your cum, “Toru-“
“Fuck, baby, how’ve I resisted tasting you for so long?” And he’s bending down as he noses your thighs, making your hips jolt, still sensitive from your orgasm as he deeply inhaled, tip of his tongue darting out to lick your release from your thighs, “smell as sweet as you taste,” he hums, your legs trying to close, but his palms keep them spread, “can’t keep a man from his vices, can we baby?”
And his tongue teases your cum that pooled from your orgasm, the tip hot and wet as it tastes it, “tastes when better coming from this filthy princess cunt,” he grins against your thigh, teeth grazing your skin, making you lurch.
“T-Toru, please,” fuck you hated how needy you sounded, but you needed more — but he’s leaning away, pressing his cheek against the soft plush of your thigh.
“Need you to do something me first, sweetheart,” and his fingers are drawing teasing infinities on your thighs, “tell me how much you want me,”
“Fuck you,” you groan, “I know what you’re gonna say,” you add, cutting off his snappy retort of “I’m trying to,” “I want you, Satoru, please, I’ve wanted this for too long,” and your voice grows more teasing, “how long is my husband going to keep me waiting?”
And his eyes darken, the slight flush on his cheeks growing deeper, as his mouth presses a wet kiss to your sopping pussy, “good girl, think you deserve a reward,” and he’s manhandling your thighs, spreading them wide, as he buries his face in your cunt, “such a good little wife deserves to be eaten out,”
And eating is exactly what he does - you had only seen Satoru eat sweets with the same voracity he devoured you, pressing his thick fingers into your thighs as he splayed you out as his mouth pressed wet kisses to your dripping lips. His hot tongue drags up the length of your cunt, “best fucking thing I’ll ever taste, know what my last meal will be,” he’s murmuring against you, making you twitch, as he looks up at you with half lidded eyes and saliva and slick covered lips, “awww my pretty pussy begging to be filled? Well I can do that for you, baby,” and he’s burying his tongue in your messy hole.
The moan that leaves your lips leaves his cock harder and hurting, he didn’t know you could make such a lewd noise, and he couldn’t wait to make you make it again and again. He’s making out with your pussy at this mouth, your hips doing their best to grind against him, desperate for more, more, more.
And your fingers find his shoulders first, before sliding up to his hair, pressing him further against you, “you’re so fucking cute,” he murmurs, as he spreads your folds with his thumbs before tongue fucking you. His tongue teases and abuses your walls, deeper and deeper, before he pulls back to flick his tongue over your clit, making you moan even louder, “neighbors are gonna hear you at this rate, baby,” but he only sucks at your clit, harshly, “oh well, they know we’re newlyweds,” he’s humming as his ears hear your broken whines and pants, body tensed up against his.
And you’re so wet now, your slick drips down his jaw, mixed with his spit, “you’re all mine now, baby, can’t live without tasting you now—“ and he groans when your hips buck into his mouth again, feeling your walls twitch, “I know you’re close, Princess, tell me how good it feels,”
“S’good, Toru, I can’t—“ you’re pulling at his soft white locks now, making him grunt, and you fall apart, back arching as you cum as all you can hear are the squelching sounds of his tongue and mouth as he continues to eat you out through your orgasm.
And you’re twitching under him as he sucks up every bit of your cum, “so fucking good for me,” he’s finally pulling himself from your messy pussy, “can’t wait to feel you around me, should’ve known you have a little princess cunt,”
And he’s licking his lips and chin clean, as you watch him with half lidded eyes, still panting, as your eyes skim down his body, his jacket had been thrown aside at some point, but his now wrinkled shirt is only messily untucked from his dress pants, and disheveled was too good of a look on him, but you rather see those clothes on the floor of your bedroom, “you’re still annoyingly dressed,” you manage between breaths, still aching from his ministrations, “strip,”
He’s raising an eyebrow, a wicked grin on his lips, “So demanding for someone who was moaning my name a second ago,” but you pull yourself up, supporting yourself on a shaky arm while you use the other to tug on his tie, smashing his lips to yours.
You unfurl the very tie you tied, fingers flying to unbutton his shirt, “Made me feel so good, baby,” and now you were kneeling in front of him, your release slipping down your thighs, as you slipped his shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside, heated eyes raking over his bare chest, tongue running over your lips, “only fair if I repay the favor,”
You’re undoing his belt for him, pulling it free from the loops, as your hand grazes his noticeable bulge in his suit pants, “surprised you haven’t ripped through,” you squeeze lightly, making his hips jerk, as he pouts all too cutely — and now you knew why he always teased you, “didn’t you tell me to have patience, love?”
“Your husband is running low on that at the moment, never been one to be patient, sweetheart,” he’s gritting his teeth, as you slip his pants off leaving him only in boxers.
Your eyes are glued to his erection, visible through the damp front of his boxers, wet with his precum, “so fuckin’ big, even better than I thought,” you say almost with reverence, and his lip quivers at the praise, a quiet groan leaving his throat. You raise an eyebrow, “like to be praised, baby boy?”
And he swallows, adam's apple bobbing, sweat on his forehead from his treatment of you, but a red flush deepens on his skin, “Princess,” it’s half a warning and half a plea—and morphs into a whimper as your fingers tease the head of his cock through his boxers, rubbing his precum into the fabric, “f-fuck, s’good with those hands, sweetheart,”
“Imagine how much better it’d be with your boxers out of the way,” you say leaning down and licking at the tip through the sticky fabric, as his head falls back with a soft moan, “can’t wait to feel this between my legs,” as you kiss the clothed tip, two fingers slipping in only to snap the waistband of the boxers against his skin, and he’s biting back a moan, a pout on his kiss ruined lips, “god, you’re so pretty,”
Another noise in the back of his throat, “Fuck, Princess,” he hissed, as you finally spare him, pulling his boxers off, his erection slapping against his too fucking incredible abs — how was he so unfairly perfect? He was so gorgeous — more long than girthy, but he was so thick still, and flushed red with pearly pre-cum at the tip. Each vein and curve felt as if he was made for you.
“All this for me, baby?” You tease, as his mouth opens and then closes as your fingers tease the head of his cock, a sharp inhale that keeps echoing in your ears, “all turned on from eating me out, huh?” You move close, nearly straddling him, but you don’t let your cunt brush against his cock — not yet.
And his dick twitches in your hand, “Sweetheart,” he whimpers, eyes nearly glassy with need, “such a fucking tease,”
And your lips curl, “Match made in heaven, baby,” you rub your thumb against his flushed tip, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft, “can’t wait to taste you, wonder if you taste as sweet as what you eat,” licking your lips, and he’s biting his lip, “tell me what you want, Toru,”
“Y’know what I want, Princess,” he’s panting as you lean forward to kiss him, lips sliding against his, just as your palm starts to stroke him, his moan is nearly pornographic, words spilling from his mouth, “want your pretty pussy around my cock, sweetheart, plesse,”
“Not so fast, baby,” you hum, your other hand moving to tease his balls, achingly full, judging by the gasp that left his throat, “wanna take my time with you, like you did with me, right?” And he breaks your kiss with a whine, “you feel so good in my hands, Toru, been thinking about this cock for too long,” and he’s grunting, lips parted as he pants, burying his face in your shoulder.
“How good?” he mumbles, and you’re grinning even wider — the great Satoru Gojo fell to pieces with only your touch and some praise, his face beautifully flushed as you tug him by the back of his hair, thumb running over his undercut as you do.
“So good that I wanna make you fall apart over and over until my name is the only thing on your lips,” you squeeze the base of his dick, making his hips jump, “gonna be a good boy for me and let me do it?”
And he’s nodding, utterly fucked out even before you’ve even started. And you guide him to the end of the bed, as you get on your knees for him, his gaze darkening as he watches you lean down to press your lips to the tip of his weeping erection, making him groan your name. And you trace his slit with the tip of your tongue, tasting his salty release, “How long you gonna tease me baby? I’m being so good for you,” he’s whining, his baby blues fluttering with lust as he looks down at you, choking as he sees how his precum paints your lips, “please, fuck, just—“
And you finally guide his cock into your mouth, and he’s jerking at the sensation and groaning as he watches your pretty little mouth take his length — those same smart lips that always had a reply for everything, the ones he’d jerked off to the thought of this very situation — you on your knees for him, the ones he’d wanted around him for so long — it was too much.
He almost blew his load all too fast, your warm mouth all too accommodating to his cock, as your wet walls and tongue swirl around him, tasting and sucking, your fingers grasping his thighs. And you bob up and down his length, the weight of his cock making the ache between your legs worse, and your eyes flicker up, and moan as you watch him.
He’s so fucking gorgeous — panting and so fucked out, as his lips part for you, your name leaving his kissed red lips, teeth baring down on his bottom lip, “Fuck, my little wife is so pretty on her knees,” as his hands settle on your head, watching you sink your mouth down on his cock, pleasure running up his spine, as his thick fingers dig into your scalp, “so nasty, baby, fuuuuck, gonna fuck your throat at this rate,” he groans, “how’d you get so good at this baby? Don’t answer that,” he adds, a growl in his words, and you almost giggle around his dick.
“Learned so I could blow you, husband, after all, this mouth is yours,” you grin, and his lips curl too and then they part as he grunts, as you press teasing kisses along his length before sliding it back into your mouth, beginning to let the tip hit the back of your throat. You gag on him, making him moan, as he helps you deepthroat him, his hips thrusting against you lightly, his white pubes brushing against your face.
And he’s moaning even louder, as he watches you, drool slipping down your chin as he fucks your mouth, tongue massaging him as he did, “Made just to fuck me, huh? Want my load that bad, Princess?” And his words have your eyes rolling back as he’s moving against you, his cock twitching telling you that he’s close, “shiiit, fuck, my wife’s a slut for me, gonna swallow my cum baby?”
“Only for you,” you pull away a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to his dick, smiling, before you slip him back into your too eager mouth, and you hollow your cheeks, the lewd noises of your tongue and mouth sending him over the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum, baby, can I cum in—“ and you make his tip brush your throat again as you suck, looking at him with half lidded, dilated eyes. And he spills into your mouth, hot cum down your throat, as he holds your head gently in place, “shit Princess,” his hips jumping at the sight of you, cum and spit slipping from the corner of your mouth as you pull his cock from you, “s’good for me,”
He’s still panting, as you climb into his lap properly, his cock sliding against your cunt, making his face twist in pleasure, as you lick your mouth clean of him, wiping your chin, “Taste so good, Toru,” you hum, his eyes half lidded with pleasure, chest still heaving, as he leans back on shaky arms, “you may be my favorite meal, but I think I rather,” you grind on his lap teasingly dragging his tip against your messy cunt, “have you cum inside me,”
And he gives a delicious gasp, “baby, too sensitive,” but you’re tilting his chin back as you meet his lips, both of you moaning as you taste yourselves on the other’s lips, “you’re gonna be the death of me, Princess,” he’s chuckling, as he starts to grab your thighs, putting you properly into his lap, “you gonna ride me like a good little princess? Fuck yourself on my cock?”
How does he have the upper hand when you’re the one on top?
As you feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, and he’s sliding your body back and forth, his cock slapping and sliding against your wrecked cunt, so close to sinking in. His hand bears down on your ass, slapping it, before his fingers squeeze it, making you jump against him, your chest brushing against his, “you like that huh?” he’s grinning, as he kisses you again, his lips sliding against you, swallowing your moans eagerly, “what do you want, baby? Remember to say please,” he adds, and you want to roll your eyes, but his fingers rub your clit, and any protest you had fled your mind.
“Please,” and you’re using your fingers to part yourself above him, making his eyes roll back, as you grasp his cock, teasing your dripping cunt with the head of his dick, “fuck me,”
And you sink onto him, inch by inch, as your head looks back, your walls squeezing as he parted your folds, “You’re drenching me, sweetheart, fucking perfect princess cunt is gonna wring me dry,” he grunts, as his fingers splay over your hips, grasping but not pushing, letting you go at your pace, “s’good, might just have to fill you up, again and again,” and your pussy twitches at that thought drawing a laugh from him lips, “you want that? My wife wants to be full of my cum,” he’s groaning when you finally fit all of his cock in you, cunt clamping down on him, “trying to break my cock? Don’t have to go that far to keep me, I’m living in this sweet cunt from now on,”
You’re a mess — whining and moaning, your chest bouncing as you begin to move against him, “Toru, so full, s’good,” his own hips jumping against yours, a low growl in his throat, as his hands begin to guide your hips, snapping his own hips as he fucks you onto his own cock, reaching new depths, as your eyes squeeze shut, “fuckfuckfuuuck, Toru,” you’re babbling and moaning his name, again and again — and he just needs more.
And he’s spanking you, hands coming down on your ass, as he grunts, your warm walls twitching and squeezing him, brushing against sweet spots that have both of you groaning, “such a fucking good girl, taking my cock — I know you can take more, baby, my perfect wife,” and he’s capturing your nipple in his mouth, teeth grazing it before he sucks, his hips growing even faster, until his cock finds your special spot.
“Toru, g’nna cum, I—“ And your orgasm hits you, head thrown back as your lips part in a silent scream, toes curling as you wrap your legs around his waist, and he’s fucking you right through — fucking relentless, almost limitless, with his pace, groaning as he watches his the base of his cock covered in your release, a pool of white that almost has him cumming then and there.
“S’ fuckinh pretty, Princess, and all mine,” he says, as you moan, as he slows his pace, your face buried in his shoulder, as you come down from your high, and he’s tilting your head.
But he isn’t done yet.
In a moment, he’s pulling his cock out — a whine parting your mouth — as he manhandles you so that you’re flat on your back, your ankles thrown over his shoulders, and spread wide for him. You’re the picture of filth — lips in a kiss ruined pout, chest rising and falling as you gaze up at him with needy eyes, and your perfect cunt leaking and drenched for him — he could see everything — all of you, the way your cum slid down your hole, the way it clenched around nothing, the pretty pink insides he was desperate to make his.
He licks his lips, “soaking my lap and sheets with your cum, baby, such a dirty girl,” and he’s spreading your lips, letting your release trickle out.
“Satoru,” you whine as he runs a finger over your still twitching pussy, as if begging for his cock back, “please, too sensitive,”
“Please what, sweetheart? Because your cunt seems to disagree,” his chuckle is a deep noise that reverberates through his chest as he leans down to press your lips to yours in a languid kiss, “such a nerdy princess, imagine how’d your family would feel — seeing you beg for my cock, huh? Not the chaste little princess anymore? Nah, you’re my filthy baby,” and you’re whimpering, “tell me baby, I know you’re not nearly fucked dumb yet, you’re too smart for that,” he coos, a grin on his lips as he stares with that damn crystalline gaze.
And finally he’s sinking into you again, cock sliding back into your soaked cunt, “God, I love you,” he murmurs, as he’s somehow deeper inside you, pussy pressed against all of him, “so fucking perfect, baby, better than I imagined,” he’s pussydrunk now as he rails into you, and you’re grasping at him, the only sound in your ears is the squelch of him as he filled you again and again as his chest presses against yours, fucking you long and hard, “you’re all mine now, baby. My wife, my body, my love, my soul — all of it,” he growls his last words, grunting as his hips begin to stutter as he kisses your sweet spot again and again, “you want me to cum in this sweet princess pussy, baby? Wanna make me a daddy?”
Your cunt twitches at that, and he laughs, “did you just get wetter, baby? Didn’t think you could do that,”
But you’re only moaning, you’re so fuckin’ close but you want him to cum with you - wanna feel him sink into as he does. And so you’re meeting his lips in a searing kiss, his hips thrusting harder and longer, “give me your baby, Toru, breed me,” you whisper, words slurring as you pant and stutter, all sense had left your mind - and all you wanted was him.
“Fuck, Princess,” he’s grunting as he pistons in and out of you, bed groaning under his thrusts, until your walls clamp down again and again on him as you cum, throbbing and needy as you moan his name, back arching, “g’nna cum,”
And he does, his cock hitting the deepest part of you as he does, his warm seed filling you up, as his hips continue to fuck it deeper into you, making you whimper, as he just keeps on cumming ropes, “oh, f-fuck, Princess,” he rasps as he kisses you, sloppy and wet, as he pants, watching your face come down him your high, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him, “so beautiful,” he murmurs, as he rubs his thumb down your lips.
He pulls out slowly, groaning as he watches your mixed releases leak out of you, dragging the tip of his weeping erection down your cunt, a whine leaving your throat again, “So fucking filthy, baby,” he hums, a shiteating grin on his lips, as he collects his cum on his fingers, and pushes it back inside of you, as you jump, a small pout on your lips making him laugh, “gotta make good on my promise, baby,” and he’s kissing you silly again, “gotta get you pregnant and full for me,”
His body is sticky with sweat, as he eases your aching legs down, as he kisses up your body, nosing your neck, “So perfect for me, Princess, I love you,” he says so earnestly that it makes you melt, as you pull him into a kiss, “suppose we consummated our marriage now, does this mean we get to have a honeymoon now?” he’s grinning, as you roll your eyes, “come on, don’t you want to travel?”
And you laugh, “I don’t think we would even leave the hotel room if you had your way,” and he’s pressing his thumb against your bottom lip and dragging down, before kissing you, sliding his tongue into your mouth to taste you.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” And your breath catches a moment, before you sigh, and he grins again, “so?”
You roll over to grab your phone, kissing his lips, pulling up possible destinations, “where are we going?”
“Satoru, we’re at the office, uhmph—“ Satoru’s kissing you even before the elevator doors shut, and you can’t help but not care if anyone saw either of you making out, his talented tongue stealing your logic from under you, before he’s pulling away, your lipstick nearly smeared all over his face. You bite back a laugh, before using your thumb to wipe away the evidence of your kiss, “we’ve been here less than a minute, and you’re already making a mess,”
And his lips catch your thumb between them, kissing it sweetly, “What do I do better than make a mess of you, princess?” and he’s pressing sweet kisses to your fingertips, before you’re pulling him back for another kiss, right before you hear the elevator ding, and you scramble apart.
Your cheeks flushed, as you stepped onto the floor of the newly merged company that was formerly your families’ individual companies, now united as one — just as you and Satoru were now — which was why he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of you. The two of you had come into the office to finalize the transition for your staff, each of you dealing with formalities on either side, but Satoru did little to help your focus on the process with his blatant stares and sneaky touches.
Twice already he had pulled you into his office, only to have you either pressed against his door, or bent over his desk. And god, you sat in your office, biting your lip as you thought about paying him another visit — and fuck, this is what he wanted.
You pull your phone out and text him: You suck.
And his reply is instant. If I recall from last night, you’re the one who sucks ;)
You’ve left me high and dry, Satoru, and I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking you in the office. Especially with both of our parents around in meetings all day.
He replies, Nah, that’s exactly why you should be thinking about it.
And then another text.
Imagine our parents walking in while you’re under my desk doing what you do best, you’d be quiet for me, Princess? Wouldn’t let us get caught when I fuck your pretty mouth?
You’re biting your lip — Fucker, I hate you.
Nah, you love me, a little too much, Princess. Another text — especially the way you were moaning my name last night.
And there’s a knock at your door in that moment — “Come in,” you intone, and you were ninety-nine percent sure that was Satoru — ready to make good on his promise — and then white hair visible as the door swings open, “Father,”
It was a Gojo, but not the one you expected — your father in law, instead of his son.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, lips curling in a smile that was all too the same as his son — but missing the same charm, the distinct softness that made you adore Satoru was not present in his father — nor was his father very present at all — except to chastise his son on how he thought his son should live his life.
And he was interrupting — interrupting you about to sext his son and your husband from the confines of your office, but you only offered a smile, “Not at all, can I help you with something, Father?”
He’s shutting the door behind him, before taking a seat across from you, “I just wanted to have a chat with you — it’s been so long since we’ve been able to see the two of you — we still haven’t had you over since you’ve returned from your honeymoon,”
“It’s been very busy,” and it had been, but not too busy to see Satoru’s family. Since the launch party, you and Satoru had agreed to steer clear of his father for some time, until Satoru could develop some more healthy boundaries with him. And so you could get through a conversation without strangling him (although Satoru wasn’t opposed to seeing that), “with the merger and Satoru and I trying to spend time to get know each other again,”
“Of course,” but his smile told you he was unconvinced, “I wanted to talk to you about something important, I’ve seen how close you and Satoru have gotten since the engagement and the wedding, and I was happy to see you pushing him in the right direction,”
“”Pushing him?’” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.
“With the merger, I haven’t seen him so focused, so determined, and I knew my suggestion to my wife to have you marry him was the right choice,” and you stare at him, mouth agape, as anger slowly melts from your stomach into every vein of his body, fingers curling into fists.
“Excuse me?”
He leans back in his chair, “When the idea of the merger was floated by me, I knew I wanted a condition to be your marriage to Satoru,” his eyes glance over the things on your desk — the stacked folders, the paperwork, and the pictures of your family and of Satoru, “you’re driven, you’re focused, you’re perfect — I knew you could change him, and I was right,” his lips curl, and you can’t hold your tongue anymore.
“Maybe what your son needed was someone to support him,” your words are even, but your body is tense, “he needed someone not to scold him, to put him down, to whisper doubts in his ear when he needed help,” you rise from your chair slowly, “I respect you as my father-in-law and as my family’s old friend and co-owner of this company, but,” you glare at him, “no one insults my husband’s capabilities, and makes me takes credit for his achievements,”
The old man’s teeth grit, and he opens to respond, when there’s a curt knock at the door, and Satoru enters, “Old man, how about you go chat with the other old farts in the room? Pretty sure you’re bleeding investors by the second the longer you talk with my wife,” he slides a small smile to you that tells you he heard everything.
Satoru’s father shoots a glare at both of you, before leaving the room in a huff, door shutting behind him, and you sigh, rubbing your temples, “I’m sorry if I made things worse—”
And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms snaking around your waist and pulling you against him, “Thank you, Princess,” he murmurs into your ear, making you tense, “oh you like that, huh?” and you roll your eyes, laughing.
“Even in a moment like this, huh?” you lean up and whisper in his ear, “I don’t just like it, I love it,” and it’s his turn to shiver, his cheeks burning, “you’re so cute,” you grin, before leaning up and kissing him. He melts into the kiss, his fingers cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss, pulling your waist against his, and you feel his arousal pressed against your thigh.
You pull away, tilting your head, you snort, “Already?”
And he bites his lip, “Take some responsibility, baby, it’s your fault,” and he leans down and grazes your ear with his teeth, “not my fault my hot wife defended my honor and then decided to whisper sweet nothings in my ear,”
You hum, guiding his lips to yours, your teeth graze over his bottom lip, “And how should I take responsibility, baby?” and he shudders, crystalline eyes glazed over with lust, “we’re in the office, not very professional,” his fingers unbutton your blouse, so he can lean down and kiss your collarbone.
“I was never very professional to begin with,” he smirks, his teeth grazing over the soft skin, sucking and biting, making you gasp, “don’t be so loud, someone will hear us, what will they think?” he murmurs, with a grin against your skin, as he continues to undo your blouse, as he turns you around so your back is against your chest, he tilts your head to look at your door, “look it’s unlocked, anyone could walk in,” and his fingers sneak down the front of your skirt, fingers teasing your panties, “fuuuck, princess, you’re soaked through — are you more turned on by the idea of getting caught?” and you whimper, only making him grin wickedly against your neck, “my filthy girl, imagine your father walking in, seeing your husband’s fingers down your skirt, legs spread wide like a slut,”
“Satoru,” you’re biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised it would bleed, your knees buckling, as his fingers part your dripping folds, “we can’t—”
“We can,” he shushes you, guiding your lips to his, fingers cupping your throat, but he leans back to get confirmation that you were okay, and you lean in again to kiss him, “such a good girl,” You whimper, and he laughs, “gotta break in the new office don’t we?”
And his fingers slip your panties aside, two fingers parting your folds, and you gasp, as he stuffs two fingers into your mouth as well, “Not so loud, Princess, can’t give the office gossip mill something really juicy, now can we?” And his digits start to really fuck you, in and out, the wet squelch ringing in your ears, as his fingers bully and stretch your walls, until they find what they are looking for — your g-spot.
You fall apart, but it’s gushing all over his hand, soaking his hand, as your hand grasps at the fingers in his mouth trying to stifle your noises, “Fuck, Princess, did you just squirt for me?” He’s grinning, “such a sloppy little Princess, look you’re staining the carpet with your cum,” he guides your head to look, seeing the spot on the carpet, as you lean against him, “gotta do this again,”
He kisses you as you moan. Tangled limbs and eager touches, as you guide him over to the desk, as you settle him into the chair, lips still parting as your tongue slips in, “Your turn,” and before he can even react, you’re slipping down to your knees, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, slipping his aching dick out, nearly slapping your face with it, you drag it along your lips, “Like you said, I’m the one who sucks right?” you wink, before you finally lick the length of his cock, tracing the veins to the slit, “you always taste so good, Toru,” and he’s hissing now.
“Fuck, baby, you always so pretty on your knees for me,” and you have to disagree — he’s the one who looks pretty — shirt disheveled, chest rising and falling far too fast, as he looked down at you with his snowy white eyelashes half lidded with a lust ridden gaze — “your pretty mouth is s’fucking perfect, can’t wait to cum down that lovely throat,” he hisses, as his fingers dig into your scalp, urging his cock deeper, his tip brushing against your throat, making you gag.
He opens his mouth to apologize, but you only shake your head, as you do it again, making his hips buck against you, tip hitting your throat again, his composure quickly falling to shreds, as he’s fucking your throat now, biting his lip so hard to keep his groans in, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was bleeding afterwards.
“I-I’m close,” he’s gritting his teeth, but you only redouble your efforts, “so fuckin’ perfect, made to suck this dick—”
And that’s when there’s a knock on the door, making you both freeze. You panic silently — before Satoru is shepherding you under your desk, while he adjusts himself, scooting your chair in more, so his weeping cock is hidden along with you.��
“Come in,” Satoru says, as even toned as someone who was just fucking their wife’s throat can manage, “Dad—what a nice surprise,”
And you cover your mouth — fuck it was your dad — Satoru called his dad, “old man” — what the fuck.
“I should be saying that to you son,” you bite your lip, listening to their conversation, “where’s my daughter? And why are you in her office?” and you covered your mouth, shit — you were hiding under your own desk, while Satoru sat in your chair.
Shit, shit, shit.
“I was just waiting for her to come back with lunch,” he manages, and you can almost see the dependable smile on his lips, “she volunteered to get us lunch and she told me to wait here so we could eat together,”
Your father was seemingly convinced after that, but to both of your dismay, sat down to speak with Satoru about business matters. You crouched, utterly bored as you listened to them talk, his erection beginning to wane, and you got an idea in your pretty little head — you grinned — well, Satoru should be careful what he wishes for, or he might just get you blowing him in front of your father.
You start slow — teasing the head with a brush of your fingers, easily could have been an accident, but it nearly makes him jump, as he gives a warning nudge with his foot gently. But then your hand begins to rub him in earnest, fingers using your spit as lube, as you heard your husband stammer over his words to your father. But it was nothing compared to when you closed your mouth over his cock, and began to deepthroat him again.
“Satoru, are you okay?’ you hear your father ask, as you discreetly suck your husband’s cock under his desk, and you can only imagine the delightful shade of red your Toru is turning.
“Sorry, I’m not feeling like myself,” he mumbles, as he grits his teeth in an attempt not to moan, and you can feel his thighs tense as he forces himself not to fuck your mouth as he wants to right now. He’s so close — as much as you like the idea of getting caught, you think Satoru likes it as much or maybe even more — his cock is twitching in your mouth as you suck and swirl your tongue around it, as your fingers dig into your thighs, “I apologize, I’m getting a call. Could you excuse me?”
And your father is oblivious, and excuses himself from the room, door shutting behind him, and Satoru groans, “Fuck, princess, you almost made me cum in front of your dad in this nasty fucking mouth,” and you suck harder, fingers fondling his balls, as his fingers find your locks again, and his hips jerk into your mouth, his white pubes tickling your nose, “thaaat’s it, fuck, so fuckin’ good, i’m close, sweetheart,” he groans, “you want me to cum—“ and you bury his cock deeper into your mouth as an answer, your hands pumping what you couldn’t fit, until he cums down your throat.
You meet his half lidded gaze, swallowing his cum, as you ease off his cock, a mix of cum and saliva connected your lips, “You taste so good,” you lick your lips, as you push the chair a little back and climb out, as you tug his boxers and pants back up, tucking his cock back in, “my favorite treat,”
He smiles, chest still rising and falling fast, “I love you, princess,” so genuinely as he pulls you into a deep kiss.
You giggle, humming against his lips, “So heartfelt after getting your soul sucked out of your dick,” you glance at the door, “do you think anyone heard us?”
He shrugs, as he pulls you into his lap, “I hope they did,” he grins against your neck, as you roll your eyes.
“You’re terrible,” and his lips curl.
“And you love me,” you kiss those same lips you would each day.
“I do.”
~~~~
“What do you wanna do today?” Satoru asks, your legs thrown over his lap, as you read a book you had picked up the other day out on a date with him, and he eats the kikufuku he had insisted on picking up the same day.
“Hmm, I have some ideas,” you hum, hiding your smile with a book, and you don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning.
“And what’s that, Princess?” he leans forward, plucking the book from your fingers, as you tut at his sugar covered fingers, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your husband?” And his lips brush against your neck, nose brushing against the soft skin of your nape, inhaling your scent.
“Well I have a surprise for you,” you weren’t planning on giving it to him now, but you pulled a wrapped box from behind the couch cushions, “should I make you wait?”
He’s reaching for the box already, as you laugh, and he’s snatching it from your fingers before you can tease him, “can I open it?” He was so eager, as always.
“Go ahead, baby,” you bite your lip, a small smile on your lips.
He lifts the lid of the wrapped box off, and the first thing his eyes flit across is the word “positive.”
His mouth parts, as he stares at the pregnancy test carefully nestled into the box, “is this—“ his cerulean eyes meet yours, a soft gaze with wonder, “are we—“
“We’re having a baby, Toru,” you nod, and he’s sweeping you into his arms, as you squeak, his body sweeping you up in his, as he buries his face in your neck, “Toru—“
“Is this real?” He murmurs, into your skin, all soft words and soft kisses, “I feel like I’m dreaming,”
“Well I am your dream girl, so maybe don’t be surprised when I pinch you and you wake up,” you pinch his cheek lightly, making his pale skin cutely flushed, pink dusting his cheeks, “no dream here, all real — so I guess you’re just lucky,”
“The luckiest,” he hums, a quiet noise that soothes you, “a beautiful wife, and now,” his fingers graze over your stomach, before lifting the hem of your shirt, to press his lips to it, “and now we’re going to be a family,”
Your lips curl, tilting his chin up so his watery gaze meets your own, thumb rubbing the length of his cheek, “We already were a family,
He raises his eyebrows in mock surprise, “I thought we were mortal enemies,” and you laugh, before shrugging.
“That too,” and he pulls you into his lap, smiling, “but you’re actually pretty cute,”
He gasps mockingly, “Princess, do you have a crush on me? A mere commoner?”
You roll your eyes, pressing a languid kiss to his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness of the kikufuku, “I hate you,” you say, when he knows you mean quite the opposite.
And he only smiles the same way he always did — and the same way he always would — “love you too, Princess."
✩ a/n: so this was also inspired by a character AI made by @/fairybaby that has been living in my mind rent free for far too long. thank you to @/laneymusings for being the best emotional support from writing to formatting to everything in between
✩ tag list: @ryliobrow, @getosho3cakes, @delaneyyyy, @soukokufan, @purplscnerie, @solarlunarsstuff, @growingupnrealizing, @forest-fruits-jam, @achipstea1ingseagull, @fruitscall, @starplasma-cujoh, @crashing-a-jeep, @mwah-chia, @vorschlaghannah, @xrysakts, @emonaculate
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