Chapter Text
Fancy women, fancy cars, fancy clothes, fancy jewelry, this was the place (Y/N) had every desire in the world to be. Her large, (E/C) eyes glanced around the expanse of the ballroom, noting the intricately carved crystals in each chandelier and the golden candle holders of each table with the tiniest bit of melted wax dripping down the sides of their handles. The red carpet was soft, and almost made it difficult to strut in her sleek, red stilettos the man on her arm had gifted her for the night in exchange for her presence.
She smiled, interacting politely with each person that sauntered up to the duo and exchanged either hands or hugs depending on who they were talking to. (Y/N) wasn't too familiar with the hugs, so to fit in, she made sure to squeeze a bit firmly in show of kindness. It surprised everyone she had the pleasure of speaking to, most likely taking her for a timid, shy, foreign piece of beauty that didn't know how to act in such a place.
However, she's been in this position enough times to know what to do.
The man slowly let go of her arm, turning his direction to his main attention of the night—a woman he's had his eyes on since the beginning of time. (Y/N) has told him time and time again that showing up with another woman on his arm will not magically make her appear by his side, but he refused to listen to the woman's words. Most men did. That's how she was able to get away with half the things she did—because she was a beautiful, dumb, foreign beauty that could barely speak the mother language.
She shrugged her shoulders, gracefully parting ways with the man she hardly wanted to be seen with anyway. It hindered her objectives to be seen with one man for too long, for people would get ideas about their relationship. She wanted nothing more than to settle down and maybe even one day start a family, building a relationship with the perfect man that would take care of her.
However, that wouldn't be until she's had her fun.
Towards the bar where they served drinks, she leaned on the counter. It didn't take long for a bartender to notice her alluring presence and make way for her direction immediately, huffing as he asked her what she desired for the night.
"Can I get...a Mai Tai?" she asked, not meaning to bat her naturally long eyelashes at the man. It entranced him in an instant and gave him motive to begin her drink immediately despite having orders ahead of hers. She turned her head, pushing out her lips in curiosity.
As she watched him put the finishing touches on the drink, such as slices of fruit on the side and on a toothpick to be placed above the rim, she drifted off a bit and enjoyed the wild jazz that played on their jukeboxes. It was a lyrical one, one that criticized the way the world had become ever since the U.S.A. became a world power. The artist was a U.S. citizen themselves, African American, so they knew first hand of the atrocities their country committed.
As (Y/N) became more entranced with the song, thoughts further going down the drain of the worlds politics, a Mai Tai had been placed in front of her figure and startled her a little bit.
"Oh, thank you, good sir. How much?"
He waved his hand.
"He paid for your tab."
(Y/N) quirked an eyebrow, following the direction that the bartender's finger pointed in. Once her eyes trailed that way, they stopped on a singular figure surrounded by more security than anyone else in the entire building. Even as (Y/N) looked around him, he had people watching over his head from angles across the ballroom, above the ballroom, perhaps even below the ballroom? The bartender lowered his hand and turned his back to the lady, tending to more customers who desired a drink as well, leaving (Y/N) with her Mai Tai and a strange feeling pooling in her chest.
The man she currently looked at, with snow white hair like it was winter every second in his strands, and eyes higher than the blue skies to pair along with his skyscraper height, it all combined to create this dominating look in him like he was always meant to run a country. Despite him winning the country over through a coup d'état, it seemed as if the position was meant for him; the gods had bestowed this honorable position on his head and crowned him with his rightful throne. He dominated every being in the room—(Y/N) had never met a man so tall. So governing. He could wave a hand and command the people to do whatever he pleased within minutes.
It intrigued (Y/N).
Because this dominant, governing man was the one who paid for her tab for the night despite coming in with a date.
Though, who could refuse the president?
A young, hot, passionate, intelligent, and powerful leader who also happened to tall? It almost made (Y/N) weak in her knees, but she stood tall.
The president would never approach her. That's why he had to pay for her tab—to get her attention. He had an image he couldn't risk, so it was up to (Y/N) to see through the rest.
She carefully sipped on her Mai Tai, watching him intently across the ballroom. Her eyes practically burned holes in the black suit he wore tonight, probably worth more than two of her organs combined. They scanned his body, noticing the hint of muscles bulging through the suit and his thick neck that showed through the top of the suit, she was sure she couldn't even fit two hands around it. Weird—to think about choking out the president—but she had the right. He simply stood there in all of his glory as he laughed the night away. Even he could feel the burning gaze in his chest from across the ballroom, but he chose not to make eye contact, not wanting to bring attention to the lady. Not with all of these important people approaching him, at least. He would get the chance to, soon.
And he did.
Once (Y/N) finished her Mai Tai, she stepped away from the bar to the ladies room that sat opposite to the dance floor. Behind it was a long, dark hallway leading to the inside of the private building she didn't know the use for. She was sure they held important meetings here, but, other than that, she wasn't too sure what else went on in this building.
She quickly used the bathroom, thoroughly washed and dried her hands, and exited the bathroom.
However, she couldn't take a step forward without being pulled down the dark hallway of the private building by her wrist, it being engulfed by a larger, rougher one she recognized as male. His wrist held a watch on it, one where the windows they passed shined a bit of moonlight on its diamonds and sparkled, almost blinding (Y/N) from its pure glory. She had no time to register that she was being led away from the party before being pulled into a separate room, with the door closing quietly as to not alert any one of their presence.
She was pulled into the seat of a chair, one sitting opposite to a desk with papers neatly organized and filed. Behind the desk and in front of her were two giant windows, shining in moonlight that illuminated the room the longer (Y/N)'s eyes had time to adjust to the change of light. Finally, she could see the figure who pulled her into the room, who placed his hand on the desk and faced the windows that looked out towards the city skyscrapers.
Snow white hair, and the tallest figure she's ever seen on a man. It was him.
The president of their country.
"Mr. Gojo..." (Y/N) mumbled with an accent, looking at his ethereal stature. His influential, commanding height slowly strut over to (Y/N), leaning over her figure that sat down in the chair with a curious glint in his assertive blues.
"Ms. (Y/N), age 24. Enjoys Mai Tais, expensive clothes, and (F/F). Lived in (H/T), moved here, the capital, five years ago. Has a degree in psychology with a minor in the arts. No other information."
(Y/N) leaned back, furrowing her eyebrows. She knew the government was watching them, but damn she didn't know they were watching her specifically! What did she do to attract their attention anyways?!
"What's a lady like you doing in a place like this?" he asked, leaning back to finally gift himself the pleasure of looking her up and down for the first time tonight—and oh, did he love what he saw. Her delicate (E/C) eyes, her smooth (S/C) skin, her plump lips, and her (H/T) hair styled so perfectly, it was almost as if she knew he'd be here—to entrance him and make him act so outlandishly.
"My date ditched me," she shrugged, biting her lip as she turned away. No, she wasn't telling the whole truth, which wasn't that smart considering he was the president of the country and could find out anything if he so wanted to, but she did it anyway.
Why?
Being involved with the president would spell no good for her. So many targets would get placed on her back, ones she couldn't see, and she'd become the main point of attack for a hostage crisis if they wanted leverage over the president. And, over the country, do you think the president would choose his mistress? (Y/N) knew better than to get interrelations with him despite how obviously attractive and passionate he was. She loved his speeches during his initial rise to power, his promises to bring peace to the country, to never end up like how the U.S.A. had them in shackles for centuries. His entire being was intense, with a fiery fervor that burned throughout the country and made his citizens fall in love with him. Even (Y/N).
She couldn't get involved with him. Not with the way he looked at her so intensely, with desire and yearning in his blues.
"Arnold Dates. 41, governor of the second district of Nulla. How did he end up as your date tonight?"
(Y/N) sighed out loud, looking to the side.
"You don't have to lie to me, doll."
She looked back up at him, at first unable to meet his intense gaze for long. But, now, she couldn't take her eyes away from him. They purred at her, wanting her to come closer and drown herself in them.
"He asked me to be his date. I accepted because I like...well...like you said, I like fancy things."
Gojo nodded, accepting the answer before taking a stroll around the desk. This was beginning to feel like an interrogation more than a sign that he was interested in her, but she just guessed that came with being involved with a powerful politician such as him. A leader.
"I can give you far fancier things than he could."
(Y/N) was taken aback.
She couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth, and, for a moment, couldn't translate her words into their native language.
"You want me?" she accidentally asked in her mother tongue, quickly scrambling to find the words to say m in their language. However, she couldn't find the words. Her mind was too frantic, too panic-struck to translate.
Gojo, however, didn't need translating.
"Yes, I do," he replied back in her mother language with the perfect accent. She almost gasped, but she kept her astonishment to herself as she looked him in the eyes.
"You can speak (L/G)?"
"Yes, it's a requirement in college to learn multiple languages."
She breathed in and out, hiding her hands underneath her bottom.
"I don't know...you're the president, sir..."
"Are you scared, Ms. (Y/N)?"
She thought for a moment. Yes, she was scared. But, she wouldn't let that be known. It showed weakness that she couldn't afford to have in a foreign country. Especially in her line of work. She couldn't have doubts or fears.
"No, sir."
"Good girl."
He turned the top of her chair, facing the windows as he stood behind it.
He bent down into her ear, pressing his hot breath against her skin that elicited the hairs on her skin to stand. She stared out into the city lights, taking in his words like a sponge that wanted more.
"Midnight, be in front of the Freedom of Information statue. I'll be waiting."
And he was waiting, as (Y/N) rushed to the entrance to the statue that sat at the size of the Lincoln Memorial in the United States, she saw his figure illuminated by the lights sitting on the bottom of the large steps leading up to the gigantic statue. He had one hand in his pocket, the other staring his watch down as (Y/N) slowly approached him.
"Punctual. I like you," he grinned, wrapping his long arm around her shoulder, leading her towards a slick, black, drop-top Cadillac.
(Y/N)'s eyes widened, for she's never rode in one of these cars before. She's had the pleasure of riding plenty of fancy cars, but never a classic Cadillac with a dropped roof. A man hopped out of the driver's seat to open the back door for the two of them, Gojo allowing (Y/N) to go first. The man shut the door behind them and pulled himself back into the driver's seat, shifting the gear to drive and riding off into the capital.
(Y/N) took note of all of the new construction that occurred thanks to Gojo's presidency, providing more jobs to people and creating a more active economy. He single-handedly made their unit of money almost as valuable as the U.S. dollar, which surprised many nations alike. She admired his hard work and his progressive policies in a world of regression, even sending out aid to Martin Luther King Jr. for his support in U.S. affairs. He was intimidating, that for sure, but he did a damn good job at presidency.
"Why did you come here, anyway?"
He asked, referring back to when he mentioned she came here five years ago.
"Home wasn't livable anymore. I had to find a new home," she spoke in their language, with a slight accent Gojo found adorable. He loved the way her words mushed together a little, and he loved that he could tell she learned the language on her own. He also loved when she couldn't find a word in their language and substituted it for one in her language.
"Your country was a great ally to us. We will always send out aid whenever your home needs it," he spoke in her native tongue, surprising both her and the driver—though, the driver was trained to mind his business.
"Thank you, sir."
"I mean it."
He now looked at her with those same intense eyes, this time with conviction like no other in them—like he would go to war over her if it called for it. After all, back in the day, men would die for faces like (Y/N)'s.
"240 Kjuo Lane, Ruo. If you could send aid to them, I'd forever be indebted to you."
She spewed her families' address, knowing that gaze in Gojo's eyes would never do something to betray her if he promised something so...risky. He simply nodded, grabbing a pen from his pocket and a piece of paper to write down the address she had told her from memory. Once he did, he folded the piece of paper and placed it in his pocket for safekeeping.
"Indebted to me? How would you even pay me, hm?"
(Y/N) gulped, looking out towards the city lights and back at Gojo, whose snow hair swayed from the winds hitting his face and eyes glowed like the buildings around him, like two blue moons hanging high over her head. He was ethereal, simply divine.
"I wouldn't know how, sir."
She'd never suggest a frisky relationship with the president, that's just a suicide mission. If that's what he wanted, he would have to suggest that himself. Otherwise she planned to keep acting clueless until he asked for what he truly wanted out of her.
His hand caressed her bare thigh, eliciting a hitch from (Y/N) who looked down at his large, engulfing hand and back up at his seductive eyes.
"I can think of a couple of ways."
"Mr. President..."
"Relax, doll. You're safe, m'kay?" he used his other hand to softly turn her chin to face him, leaning their faces close together so their breaths mingled.
She simply nodded, batting her long eyelashes at him.
...
When Gojo said he would give her far fancier things than her previous date could, he was by no means lying. In fact, he outdid himself every time. Whenever they had a dinner together, outside, he would have the entire street shut down for their privacy. If anybody was caught, they would be arrested on the spot for trespassing. He would privatize entire malls for her, allowing her to shop in private and without anybody to take the last Prada bag she had been eyeing. With a large book of checks, ready for quadruple digits to be written on and taken out of his account, he stood at each register with a pen in hand and a check in the other. (Y/N) didn't even have to hold a single bag, as his bodyguards and he himself would hold them for her.
They even went to multiple jewelry stores, picking out ring sizes for (Y/N) to simply wear out and brag about to her lady friends. She received diamond necklaces on top of gold bracelets and even a secret diamond waist chain for Gojo's eyes only to view when they were alone.
When they were alone, with no bodyguards present, he showered her in attention and affection. He would kiss every knuckle of hers, kiss every part of her body he loved, kissed every part she didn't love, he'd worship her like a goddess that came from an entirely different universe.
He even helped her learn their language a bit better, assisting and preventing miscommunications between acquaintances. She did the same thing, teaching him things he didn't previously know about her mother language as well as slang and what to say to sound less like a foreigner in her country. Soon enough, they both seemed to fit in to each other's culture perfectly, like a piece to a puzzle, despite their differences.
Before, she simply believed all she needed was a rich man to support her and she would make the rest of her life work out some way somehow. After coming from absolute dirt, she wanted nothing more than to spend her life in pretty pillows and dazzling diamonds, especially since getting a taste of it with Gojo and a couple of other politicians. Gojo, off the bat, seemed to have been watching her for quite some time. She never wanted to ask, afraid of the answer, so she kept herself in the dark about that one.
However, one she didn't want to be kept in the dark about was their relationship.
What were they? Could she even attach a label to their relationship? They spent so much of their free time with each other, even the little free time the president had was spent on her. It didn't have to be with their clothes on the floor, no, never that, sometimes they simply basked in each other's presence. Sometimes they taught the other person something new. Sometimes they simply kissed softly, caressing each other and tangling themselves in Gojo's large, expansive bed.
They even taught the other their native tongue. (Y/N) had no idea if she was a mistress or a secret girlfriend, no, not until one particular night she was in Gojo's bedroom, waiting for him to wash up for the night.
A ringing at the black telephone resounded in the room, dinging and startling the peaceful air (Y/N) curated in wait of Gojo's large figure to wrap around hers once again. She looked at the telephone, then back at the bathroom door.
"Satoru, you're getting a phone call!" she called out.
He didn't answer, seemingly not hearing her.
But, she couldn't stand the ringing, so she picked up the phone and planned to put it on hold for him.
"Hello, speaking for Mr. Gojo. How can I help you?"
"Hello! I'm Susan and...isn't supposed to be his bedroom number? Who is this?"
(Y/N) immediately paused, squinting her eyes before tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Um, yes, it is. Who are you, if I may ask?"
"Put Gojo on the phone now! Tell him it's Susan, his honey!"
(Y/N)'s eyes widened, mouth dropping as she looked between the telephone and the bathroom door. She could feel her stomach physically dropping at the word 'honey', having an idea of what that could mean in their language. She didn't use 'wife' specifically, so they weren't tied by law, but still! Who was this lady Gojo seemed to know as well? He seemed to be spending all of his free time with her ever since they met, so how could anybody be his 'honey' other than her?
Adrenaline clouded (Y/N)'s vision as she began to cuss in her native tongue after covering up the bottom half of the telephone.
This Susan lady couldn't, no, she wouldn't get away with Gojo in her arms. (Y/N) finally found a decent man to take care of her, she had a clean record, and she didn't plan on letting anybody ruin the good thing she had going on with the president. At first, she could never see herself involving herself in his personal affairs, but now?
She was in too deep now.
"Sorry, Susan, he can't come to the phone because he's sleeping with me."
She shut the telephone before she could retort, surprised that there wasn't another ring at the dock. Adrenaline rushed through her fingertips at what she had just done, breathing in and out harshly with wide eyes. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself down silently before Gojo saw her in the frenzied mess she was in.
However, he saw the entire thing.
"You're sleeping with me, huh?"
(Y/N) yelped, keeping her mouth and eyes closed shut as she heard Gojo's tall, menacing figure approach her from behind. Steam from the bathroom reached her back and she felt the pure heat of the vapor pressing against her skin.
"Tell me, (Y/N), do you even know what that means?"
His hand reached out, trailing a finger down the side of her waist. They gripped the hem of her nightgown that fell just above fingertips length, as she wore nothing but underwear underneath it. Not even a bra.
Confusion struck her being. Did 'sleeping' not meant that Gojo went to sleep in bed with her every night? Did it not imply that they were intimate in a way they shared a bed? Should she not have said that? What was its true meaning in their language, as it clearly was not a direct translation for her?
"Doesn't it mean we go to bed with each other...?" she questioned, still not facing the man as he slowly lifted the hem of her nightgown.
"In a way..."
He turned her around, pushing her smaller frame against a wall and causing a couple picture frames to tremble.
As did she under his commanding stare, trembling with his large hands exploring her stomach and the diamond waist chain he had bought her. He wanted to see her in nothing but that waist chain now, with her quivering under his powerful gaze that he could so easily turn on and off as he pleased. He simply liked using it when proving a point, especially to a beauty like (Y/N).
"Oh, doll, it means so much more..."
He used his other hand to grab (Y/N)'s, pressing it against the bulge in his towel that was only wrapped around the bottom half of his body—and dangerously low, at that, for (Y/N) could see his V-line and trickles of trimmed white hair leading down to the quite hard and...large bulge she felt through his towel.
"Oh..."
She finally got the idea of what she suggested to Susan, a flush suddenly took over her whole body.
"Satoru, I'm so sor—"
"Ah, good girls wait their turn, right?"
She looked in his dominating eyes and that devilish smirk, slowly nodding.
"Besides, I needed her off my back. Only want you, only need you..." he whispered in her ear, widening her legs and grinding his bulge against her own leaking panties.
(Y/N) whimpered, holding onto his neck as he rolled into her, using the fabric of their clothes to get off on each other. Her whimpers turned into small moans, until he grabbed both of her hips and full on dry-humped her while rolling his hips into hers, making sure to rub against her clit over and over again. They were both a gasping mess as they used each other to get off, (Y/N) holding onto Gojo as she rolled her hips onto him and Gojo holding onto her hips as he synchronized their movements.
His movements became harsher, more erratic as he began whispering the dirtiest things in her ear. How he wanted to fuck her while the mall had been shut down, how he wanted to eat her out the moment he had a chance alone with her the first night they officially met, how he's been watching her for a while and has been obsessed with every part of her being since she even arrived in the country.
His obsession set her over the edge, eliciting a guttural moan from (Y/N) who scratched at Gojo's back from finally reaching her climax. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she squirted all over his fresh towel, crying out with tears forming in her eyes at how hard she was cumming. Gojo had no intention of stopping, thoroughly enjoying overstimulation as that was his prime kink, so he moved (Y/N)'s panties to the side and forced her against the wall further, pulling down her nightgown so her breasts flowed freely. He rutted against her endlessly at an unforgiving pace, making fat globs of tears form in her eyes as she held onto him for dear life, unable to focus her eyes as she felt like she could see the universe and all the stars combined. Her body felt like it defied gravity, seemingly becoming lighter and lighter the closer (Y/N) comes to her second orgasm.
And, it crashed over her even harder than the first one, inducing a cry from her as she came on Gojo's towel once again. This time, Gojo's speed came to a slow, finally finding himself climaxing as well. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he let out a guttural moan, one that sent shocks straight to (Y/N)'s core.
He immediately pulled her into a sloppy kiss by the back of her head, connecting lips and swapping spit as they connected in the nastiest way they possibly could have. When he let go, a string of saliva connected them together as they looked at each other with half-lidded eyes and even more desire than they had previously.
(Y/N) could feel herself drifting off, but Gojo kissed her cheek and gripped her asscheek, alerting her to wake up and look into Gojo's eyes that looked so feverishly excited—so full of stamina and power to keep going.
"Oh, we're not done yet, doll."
He lifted her up by the hips and roughly placed her on the bed, immediately caging her in with his strong arms. By now, the towel was long gone, and all that was left was Gojo in all of his nude glory. His perfectly thick, lengthy girth perched up just for (Y/N). With white hairs dusting the bottom and his stomach leading down, (Y/N) could say the curtains most definitely matched the drapes. Gojo was perfect in every way possible, even down to his privates.
"You wanted to get dirty...yeah? We'll get dirty, baby."