Straows - Squiidei

Thinking about…

Gojo with a s/o that has a high sex drive that matches his but he doesn’t know.

Context: Gojo and y/n are in a new relationship, maybe a month or so in. Neither of them realize that the other has a high sex drive and are craving the other, and don’t want to push the relationship.

Warnings: Female reader, reader a lil freaky, sex toys mentioned, vibrator used, masturbation, teasing, use of words like cunt, pussy, arousal??, edging, orgasm denial.

Wc: 955

-

Imagining Gojo who is in a rather new relationship with Y/n.

He’d liked her for a while, vice versa, but he didnt know much about her sexual preferences.

So imagine, he didn’t want to push you into sex or anything, so it leaves him fucking desperate. And I’m talking like fucking his fist just about every night, hell, every time you’d bend over, touch him a certain way, even look at him a certain way and he’s pitching a tent like he’s a teen who just hit puberty.

But what he doesn’t know, is that you also have a terribly high sex drive, and is just as needy as him if not more.

So imagine…

You’ve just gotten home from a long day. You’re tired, and unbelievably horny. You’d managed to scroll on Gojo’s instagram and found yourself getting wet from some of the pictures of him flexing, the angle of his back made your mouth water.

So, you come home, set your keys down and go straight to your bedroom. Stripping yourself naked, only to pull on one of Gojo’s shirts he’d left behind from when he came over previously.

Reaching down, you pull out a shoe box that had writing on the top. In sharpie, “do not touch!” In case anyone were to find it. Inside the box, were vibrators, rose toys, a dildo or two, and some more random sex toys. Being horny all the time meant going through a lot of toys, especially now that you were basically celibate until Gojo made a move that showed you he wanted to fuck.

You grab a vibrator, and quickly crawl onto the bed. Spreading your legs, and going to work. Little moans, whines and gasps could be heard all the way from the entrance of your home.

Your eyes closed, one hand bunching Gojo’s shirt to your nose so you could still have his scent near you as you kept the vibrator on your clit, edging yourself.

You’re so occupied, you don’t hear the front door opening. Or the pause in footsteps, nor the door opening to reveal your boyfriend.

Gojo was shocked to be hearing these noises from your room. He set his things down, and the take out he’d brought over on the counter before walking to your bedroom.

Slowly opening the door, he was met with a sight that’d be engrained in his brain for the rest of his life. It had him swallowing thickly, his pants growing tight embarrassingly quickly. You on your bed, in just his shirt, with a vibrator to your clit as you whined his name. It had him fighting the urge to jerk off watching you.

He didn’t say anything at first, and merely watched. His eyes growing lidded as he watched with hungry eyes. A quiet groan leaving his throat as he watched you deny yourself an orgasm. It had his cock throbbing in need.

Watching you pleasure yourself while whining his name had him thinking, had you always been this needy? This desperate for him and he didn’t even realize? He could have been fucking you, could have been memorizing your body inside out all this time? Now that had his brain buzzing with new thoughts.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Gojo standing at the foot of your bed. Blindfold off, shirt unbuttoned, belt unbuckled and fly unzipped. His boner visibly aching for you. He didn’t look away when you met his eyes, just kept his hungry gaze on you and your soaked cunt.

He finds it so fucking cute when you gasp and quickly try to cover yourself, but he’s snatching the blankets before you can take away his view. Clicking his tongue, he tilts his head, “don’t get shy now, keep going.” His voice low and commanding, a shit eating grin on his lips.

He watched as you squirmed under his gaze, cheeks flushed and embarrassed by being caught red handed. But his grin only widened when you finally did as asked. Bringing that vibrator back to your clit.

“Yeah that’s it, good fucking girl.” Gojo practically moaned at you following his commands. Even more so when he saw your cunt clench around nothing, all wet and desperate for him. And only him.

Slipping his pants off, followed by shirt, he crawled onto the bed. His body weight making the bed dip, and he now sat on his knees between your thighs. Just watching as you pleasured yourself.

Unable to keep his hands to himself, he slowly let them run up your legs, squeezing your thighs, and raking his nails teasingly closer up. He adored how it made you shiver, your moans becoming a little more desperate.

“You close baby? You gonna cum f’me? Yeah?” His voice teasing, as he leaned closer, lips brushing against yours slightly. And just before you could cum, he snatched the vibrator from your hands.

“What- no!” You whined, eyes wide in confusion. But still sat there pathetically looking up at your lover with desperation.

“Only good girls get to cum.” He tilted his head with a cruel smirk, and threw the vibrator to the side. “Good girls don’t keep things from their boyfriends…”

He spoke as he lifted your thighs to overlap his, and slotted himself between them. His boner pressed right against your bare cunt, the fabric of his boxers growing soaked from your arousal.

“So needy for me all this time,” he grabbed up your jaw in firm but gentle grasp, forcing you to look at him. “You kept this pretty cunt hidden from me all this time,” his lips pressed against yours in a teasing kiss before pulling away, “but now she’s mine.”

-

Was this good? This is my first time writing something like this and it’s also my first time writing on Tumblr.

I had this idea when watching an edit on tiktok so it’s probably not great

No ones probably gonna see this, but if you do pls leave your thoughts in comments! 💛

Th

𝘜𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. 

Tw: drugs, fighting, messy relationship, injuries, car wreck, break up, death, Gojo crashes out, hurt/no comfort, insecurities. Gojo x retiredSorcerer!reader

It had been a long day. A very, very, fucking long day. For the both of you. Gojo had been running around all day fucking up some curses and being ordered around like a dog by the elders, whereas you've been dealing with people.

You'd been retired as a sorcerer for a little bit now, mainly because of a severe hip injury that makes it hard for you to be able to do sorcerer things. So you got a job at a bakery to keep yourself busy and also contribute to your and Gojo's bills, while it's not much, it's something.

It was so fucking busy. I mean there was a line around the fucking block just for a god damn muffin.

You'd gotten into a screaming match with your coworker, then some fuckass customers. And your whole day was like that. A 12 hour shift. Spent serving ungrateful assholes.

So you were ready to come home and just decompress. You were hoping to rant and smoke a joint before your boyfriend got home. You never did tell Gojo about it, he always got too concerned for your lungs.

When you finally got home, your boyfriend was already there. He was sat at the kitchen table drinking water and scrolling on his phone.

So with a sigh, you put your keys down, "hey baby, how was your day?" You murmur, looking over at him.

"Great, yours?" Gojo looked up finally, he was pretty tired looking but you had you face in the freezer.

"Let me tell you," and here came the decompressing rant.

You started with how busy it was, followed by all the shitty customers and went into detail.

However, you hadn't noticed how long you'd been talking. You just kinda let your mind lose. But it wasn't until you finally got out of the fridge did Gojo speak up.

"Ok, fuck- stop talking! Can you shut the fuck up? I mean damn! I didn't ask for all that! Just say good and move on!" He yelled, loud enough to have you jump back a little. He glared at you for a long moment before getting up and going to the bedroom.

You just kind of stood there in shock. I mean, what else could you do? Even tho your feelings were hurting like a motherfucker, you opened y'all's bedroom door, "baby? You oka-"

"No! Damn! Get the fuck out! You're not even a sorcerer anymore! All you do is work at some shop! It's not that hard! All you do is bitch and complain. I get it that you wanna be useful but you can't. You fucked up YOUR knee and now you're useless! That's your fucking problem!" He was actually screaming at you. The veins in his forehead were popping out and his face was red and everything.

You just stared at him before stepping into the room and reaching into your panty drawer to pull a box. You just silently walked out of the room, grabbed your car keys and your wallet before leaving the house. And you slammed the door behind you, and I mean you slammed that shit so hard that picture frames fell off the walls and shattered.

You got in your car, and you left.

Gojo looked at where you stood, before his head snapped up when the door slammed. "Y/n-" the sound of glass shattering had him walking into the living room. First he noticed the mess, then the sound of the car skidding out of the drive way.

Groaning, he sat on the couch, hands covering his face. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He murmured, his hands balling up in his hair.

He felt like a piece of shit. He just screamed the most unacceptable shit to his girlfriend. For just trying to tell him about her day.

The more he thought about it the heavier the guilt felt until his chest was aching. Looking at his phone, he went to Life360, only to see you weren't in the circle anymore. He couldn't see your location.

So he immediately tried to call you. No answer. He tried to text you, it went green. You'd blocked him.

"Shit..." he leaned back in the couch and sighed. His gaze moving towards the broken glass on the floor. He could at least clean up...

And he did just that. It took a little while to clean the floor, then get the pictures in new frames and while he was at it he did the cleaning chores. By the time he was done it was 9pm. You'd left at 7pm. And still weren't home. 

But without your location, and him yawning every five seconds, he just decided to give you space and lay down. The second he laid down he passed the fuck out.

You didn't come home till late. I mean late late. Like around 2am. You'd parked all wonky and shit in the driveway, and wobbled right back up inside. Your eyes were red as fuck, barely open as you opened the door to your porch before closing it. Sitting down on one of rocking chairs, you just stared out at the sky. Your face was red from crying, puffy with tear streaks running down your face.

You were hurting. You didn't know Gojo thought that poorly of you. And to call you useless? Wow. It was already hard enough going from a high grade sorcerer to basically a cripple.

Sighing, you just rested your head on the back of the rocking hair and closed your eyes. The weed already had you sleepy as fuck, so it was easy to just drift off.

Waking up in the morning was rough. You had slept in a bad position, and the metal plate in your help, along with the arthritis had flared up. Groaning, you slowly stood up, your teeth clenching as you didn't put any weight on your bad hip.

Slowly, you walked inside, grunting and grumbling quietly as you hobbled into the living room, then into the bedroom. You expected Gojo to be gone already, or at least not in the house. But no, he was just waking up.

Glaring at him, you scoffed before grabbing a towel and some clothes, and the essentials from the shared bathroom, just to hobble into the guest bathroom. And you made sure to lock that door behind you to.

And that proved to be a good decision, because as you got naked, the white haired fucker himself knocked on the door.

"Pretty? I need to talk to yo-" he tried to open the door but it was locked. Something he was not used to at all. Usually yall would shower together, or at the very least have the door wide open. The door being locked had his throat tightening, he wanted to break the fucking door so he could get to you, especially when you he heard you grunt as you got into the shower.

"Is your hip hurting you?" He asked softly through the door, his heart breaking when he heard you grab the wall with a thud. Yeah. He knew it was probably flaring up. "Let me in so I can help y-"

"I don't need your fucking help! I'm not a goddamn vegetable and I'm not that fucking useless so just fuck the hell off!" You yelled, your voice strained. You'd never snapped at him like that. But of course he'd never screamed at you like he did yesterday either.

Gojo stared at the door, his jaw clenching as he tried the doorknob one more time. "...I'll be waiting in the bedroom when you get done." He mumbled before walking back to the bedroom.

Regardless of what you'd said, you did need help. You couldn't even bend over. And it had you crying out of frustration.

You were the shower for a long time. And when you got out, you only stared at your body. You used to have some insanely strong thighs, but they'd lost the muscle and just looked pudgy and soft. Your toned torso became the same, soft to the touch.

And all while Gojo's words from yesterday repeated in your head over and over again.

The shower was a struggle, sure, but it was harder to get your underwear and shorts on. But when you were done, you finally left the bathroom. Having to use the wall for support.

Going into the bedroom, you ignored Gojo and opened your bedside drawer so you could get some pain killers. Taking three too many, you dry swallowed them.

"Y/n that is way too many! Let me at least get you some water, I mean you know what the doctor sai-" Gojo tried to help you, but you just wouldn't accept it.

"Don't worry about it. It's not your problem." You sent him a sharp glare then hobbled your way back into the living room.

"No- no. Y/n— listen, I was wrong yesterday. I shouldn't have said those things at all, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it." Gojo tried to reach for you, but you slapped his hands away.

"Then why would you fucking say that to me? Calling me useless? Just because your the worlds strongest or whatever bullshit the elders tell you doesn't mean you get to talk like that!" You snapped at him again, jamming your finger into his just hard enough to make him back up. "And if I was such a burden to you, then why the fuck would you date me?!" You were yelling now.

"No- baby, you're not useless, at all. You're stronger than me- so much so. Please, it had just been a long day yesterday and I just... got overwhelmed." He grabbed your hand and held it in his, his brows furrowed as he pleaded with you.

"I don't give a fuck who you are, Gojo, you will never, EVER, talk to like that." Glaring at him you snatched your hand away from him, "don't fucking touch me." You left him standing there, lips parted and the most pathetic look on his face.

You had been together for a year and a half now, and never had you ever spoken to him like that, and he never to you.

But it seemed like he was just digging a deeper grave for himself. He knew you were angry, upset and hurting but he didn't want to be on the receiving end of your anger and hurt. Even if he was the one that caused it.

Watching you have to hold onto the wall for support, face contorted into pain every time you put weight on your bad leg, his chest got tighter and his heart ached.

The entire day continued on like that. Him trying to talk to you, but you just kept pushing him away. He knew he deserved it, but he was so ready to be done with this argument. 

It wasn't until your stubbornness caused you to slip and fall did he finally put his foot down.

You'd tried to walk to the bathroom, but had slipped on the rug. The air knocked out of you as you forced yourself to sit up. The pain in your hip intensified. You wanted to cut it off.

Forcing yourself to breath, a cry slipped through your lips and Gojo came running.

Gently lifting you up, he moved you over to the couch. His eyes worried and his brows furrowed, "Enough is enough- you can't keep trying to do this on your own. You should have told me your hip was flaring up last night instead of just storming off."

You stared at the ground, before finally speaking up, "let's break up."

"What?" Gojo laughed as if you were joking, before his face turned sour. "I'm sorry, what'd you say? I misheard you." He was hoping he heard you wrong.

"Let's break up." You repeated it, same tone and everything. "Yesterday made me realize how wrong we are for each other. How wrong we've always been."

"No- no. Baby, yesterday was all my fault- i-i had just gotten frustrated and I took it out on you, I'm so sorry. I should have never said those things," Gojo was crouched in front of you now, his eyes desperate as he tried to get you to look him in the eye. "We're perfect for each other, pretty."

"But we're not. My life as a sorcerer is over. I can hardly function. You're hardly ever home, and when you are, you're exhausted. You're not happy with me, hell I don't even think you're attracted to me anymore. When's the last time we've done anything? It's been months." You just stared at him, tears rolling down your face slowly.

Gojo's heart was breaking into a billion pieces with every word you spoke. "No, no no. I'll take time off- I'll- I'll quit! I'll do anything- just don't do this to us! I'm still attracted to you! I am! I've just been really tired!"

"No you're not. I look nothing like I used to. I can't workout anymore, I've lost muscle and now my body is all pudgy and gross- and you still look amazing. I've seen the way your eyes linger on other women, you never had wandering eyes when I was a sorcerer." Your jaw clenched and bottom lips quivering, you looked away from him. "I mean- you even called me useless, and you're right."

"No! I wasn't right! About anything! Baby please- I'm an idiot! I just said shit without thinking!" Gojo was begging at this point. His knuckles white as he held onto the couch cushion.

"We'd never be able to get married, have kids, grow old with each other or even die in battle with one another." You wiped your face, having to take stuttering breaths to keep calm, "By the time we're 40 you'd hate me. I'm literally dead weight."

Gojo's eyes began to tear up and he just shook his head over and over, "no your wrong. We would grow old together and it's ok we can't have kids! I'm ok with that- baby all I want is you."

"You haven't wanted me in a long time Gojo. Hell even the dogs that people get then regret later get more love than you've shown me in months." You lightly pushed him away, "So let's break up. You don't love me anymore- that's why you felt so ok with screaming at me not once but twice. People who love one another don't do that."

"But I do love you! I love you with all my heart! I'll quit being a sorcerer- we can move away from here, I have more than enough money for the both of us to retire to some far away island!" Gojo grabbed your hands in a tight grip, his face pathetic as he cried and begged. He loved you, he honestly did. He'd just... let himself forget what he had.

"I'll come get my stuff in a few days." You murmured before forcing yourself to stand up. You managed to grab your keys and limp your way out the door. Leaving Gojo sitting there on the floor, staring at where you once sat.

He didn't hear from you for a few days. In fact, he didn't hear from you at all. Because two days later, he got a call from the nearby emergency center.

"Hello?" Gojo's voice was rough. He'd been crying and hadn't left the house since you left. He was an absolute mess.

"Hi, is this Mr. Gojo?" A woman's voice on the other line spoke.

"Yes."

"Sir, we've called to inform you that Y/n L/n has been in accident." Her voice was dry, she'd made these calls so many times, the empathy had drained from her.

"What? Is she ok? What happened?!" Immediately he was panicking. He was standing right away and rushed to grab his keys.

"She got in a car accident near Vaughn road. She was rushed to the emergency room and is now in intensive care here at the hospital."

His breath caught in his throat, his mouth went dry and his heart felt like it stopped. "I-in-intensive care?" He murmured.

"Yes sir, they are keeping on one of the ventilators for now. You're her emergency contact."

"I'm on my way." Gojo didn't bother to wait for her answer, he didn't rush to throw on better clothes than grey sweats and a hoodie. He was running out the door.

Breaking several traffic laws, he was finally at the hospital. Rushing in, he was at the counter and demanding to see you in no time. "Where is she?!"

"Who? Did you must calm down." The receptionist stood up, trying to get him to lower his voice.

"Y/b l/n! Where is she?! How is she?!" Gojo watched with wide eyes as the woman got quiet.

Slowly, she grabbed the phone and called a doctor up to the front desk. Where he was then escorted to a private room.

"Are you Gojo Satoru? The patients boyfriend?" The doctor asked.

"Yes yes, now how is she?! I need to see her!" He demanded, slamming his fist down on the table.

The doctor sighed quietly, "Sir, I'm so sorry, we did everything we could but," the doctor took a breath before continuing, "the internal bleeding was severe. She passed during surgery."

Gojo just stared at him. His ears ringing and his heart beat so loud he could hardly hear what he was saying. His whole world was crashing down on him all at once. "She's- she's dead?"

"Yes sir, I'm so sorry for your loss. We did everything we could. I'll give you the room." The doctor glanced at Gojo before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Gojo just fell back into a chair and held his head in hands. "This isn't real... this isn't real, this isn't FUCKING REAL." He immediately got his phone and began calling her number. Over and over and over again. Tears pouring down his face, his knees bouncing fast enough to cause the carpet to tear.

Slowly, reality began to settle in and he crumbled under its pressure. Sobbing into his hands, he wailed. Crying over and over again "my girl, not my girl" or "no no no".

It was heartbreaking to hear as people passed the room on the outside.

Even weeks after you'd been buried, he couldn't function. Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. He couldn't do anything. He was utterly useless, like he'd said to you the last night he had with you.

The words he said to you haunted him. The way you were in pain on your last days because of your hip, because of him.

He didn't even get to hold you. He didn't even get to see your face. They had to have to a closed casket funeral. The wreck you'd gotten into was with a drunk driver, it was a head on collision and your body was mangled.

Everyday, he sat at your grave. Crying, talking or just staring at your headstone.

Weeks, months, and years later, Gojo had been rendered useless without you. He was miserable with having you to hold onto at night or to talk to in the mornings. He missed every single thing about you. He missed the way you'd laugh at his shitty jokes, or how you'd scold him if he got drunk or ate too many sweets. He even missed how you'd try to ignore him but cave in when he'd hug you from behind and press sweet kisses from your neck. He missed how you'd look at him with those adoring eyes.

And he regretted how your last days were spent. He regretted how he let you get a job even tho you were in no state to get one. He regretted how he spoke to you, or let you feel insecure. He regretted his wandering eyes and his wishes that you were normal. He regretted everything he never got to do with you, or how little time he had spent with you.

He loved you more than anything. And without you, he was just as useless.

𓆝𓆟𓆜𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆜𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆜𓆞𓆝

Ok guys hope you liked it. Kinda feeling like shit rn so I’m gonna get high asf ok? Ok. Love yall.

Knight of Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You, heir to the throne and fated to be married off to a royal you’ve never even met. Gojo Satoru, your personal knight and the one man that will not let this happen. He will not.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, knight! Gojo, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, PINING, arranged marriages, Naoya is awful, Gojo YEARNS, flower language, politics, slight víolence, slight angst, matíng presses, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, oraI (fem rec), he goes FÉRAL, cúmming in his pants, manhandIing, spítting, biiig stretches, dúmbifícation, cúmflation, p talking, p sIapping, overstím, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.7k

A/N. What happens when ya let a girl listen to Golden Brown by The StrangIers.

“You are not to speak, you are not to look.” The king intertwines his decadently ringed fingers on his lap, the royal signet glinting pointedly amongst them. “You are not to so much as breathe in the princess’s way from tomorrow onwards.”

And it’s only with his hard-earned years as your knight that Gojo stops himself from shuddering where he knelt, head bowing to hide the clench in his jaw.

Though, surely something must have flashed across his features - because the next few words have a familiar warmth that twisted Gojo’s heart much more than his royal timbre, “Satoru, my boy, you understand that this is your duty? Yes?”

“I understand.” The answer is instant, as is the raise of the other man’s brows. 

“And do you understand that this marriage is my daughter’s duty?” Your father barks out a disbelieving laugh into the barren throne room. “We wouldn’t want Prince Naoya getting the wrong idea between the princess and a- a knight.” 

The words make his eyes prick wetly, and Gojo can’t help but bend even lower as he whispers. “I…I understand, sir.”

After all, it was the second thing that Gojo Satoru had drilled into his mind from the very moment he first met you.

The first being that he’s loved you ever since. 

Which - retrospectively speaking - might’ve been an incredibly bold declaration coming from the scrawny, fidgeting six-year-old you happened to catch sneaking in and stealing lilac blooms from the royal garden all those years ago.

He remembers how you’d giggled, looking positively like a little blossom in all those gauzy layers of gown. Piping up from under the lilac tree he was latched onto, “My father says that’s not allowed.”

Gojo had fallen then - literally, startling about six feet from the branch he’d been straddling and straight into a scratchy pile of leaves with a dull thud! Back hurting, head spinning, it was a wonder that he hadn’t sprained anything, but right then and there he remembers thinking he was in heaven.

Because here was a pretty lil’ angel his age ogling down at him, speaking in a regal accent so different from his. “My father says that’s not allowed either.”

Your grin beamed down on him and warmed his skin even more scorchingly than the balmy rays of sunlight filtering in through the leaves. And for the first time ever in his life, Gojo Satoru had stuttered. 

“Yer- yer father sounds stupid.” He had spit out, chubby cheeks puffing out the more you stared at him. What? He was sure he looked ridiculous with all those stray sticks and leaves stuck in his cloudy locks, but did you really have to look at him like…that? 

“My father…” Your lips curled even further, as if you knew something he didn’t. “-the king.”

Oh.

Oh. 

And it’s only then that Gojo notices the thin, silver tiara on your head, a delicate wreath of jeweled flowers that twinkled almost as bright as your eyes. It reflected specks of light into his gaze almost mockingly.

Idiot- it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over him that chilled him to the very bone. 

Even at the tender- well, wise and sensible age of six, Gojo had heard from the adults in town all about the torture chambers and p-prisons that the royal palace was home to. 

Just why did he feel the need to escape from his mother at the market to bring her a batch of those wispy, amethyst flowers anyway? 

Sure, they were her favorite but- the royal family would have his head before even she did. And he didn’t even get to butter her up with the lilacs!

“Forgive me!” Gojo had squeaked out in a cry so shrill that you hurriedly took a step back, eyes widening once the interesting boy in front of you dropped to his hands and knees. “Ah- I mean uh- forgive me, your highness- your princessness.” Drooping into a bow so low that his soft tufts of hair brushed the warm ground. Words tumbling out a mile a minute, “It was an accident- I must’ve been um sleepwalking and I pinky-promise won’t do it again-”

“Those lilacs haven’t bloomed yet, y’know?” You’re cutting him off smoothly, and Gojo remembers feeling a pang of irritation- let him recite his apologies before you throw him in a cell, dammit! Right before flooding with confusion, eyes snapping up to meet yours hesitantly. 

Pointing at a pretty white gazebo, overlooking the lake only a few meters away, you’d shrugged your shoulders. “The garden staff puts the best ones in a bouquet over there.”

At which, he’d replied with an exceptionally eloquent, “Huh?”

“Well, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

It’s only after hours upon hours of picking every lilac flower in sight and chatting about all the worldly topics a pair of six-year-olds knew that you were dragged away by one of your worried attendants. 

And he almost felt…sad about it. Weird. 

The yolky setting sun that day cast shadows for Gojo to hide himself in behind one of the gazebo pillars as he peeked at your retreating back. In-step with an older woman muttering about “losing her job oh- the king will banish her.” 

And if there was one thing that he would never forget - well, amongst everything else - it was the way his heart banged selfishly against his ribcage with a repeated turn around turn around turn around-

You did. And you’d smiled, and Gojo hasn’t been able to step away from your side since.

Well, he had to - to go home that evening and proudly proclaim to his thoroughly cross mother how he’ll become a knight, that is. 

Honestly, even the colossal lilac bouquet did little to deter her scoldings about running off. But despite how bad it was - and the fact that he was sentenced to be confined to his room for a whole month - it didn’t matter.

Gojo visited you the next day, too. 

And the day after that, and the day after that- and again and again no matter how many times you’d teased him about coming so often to see you. Because you were right there no matter what royal duties or lessons dictated, waiting in the lilac garden for him. 

Every day.

When Gojo was eighteen he’d applied for a position in the royal guard, breezing through the demonstrations of physical strength because of course, he did. He’d been training for his very day for years.

And it showed - oh, how it showed. 

It showed in the way he stood almost a head above every other man lined up there, veering numerous inches above six feet. All sculptured, Herculean muscles and arms toned from years spent climbing the palace orchards with you. The strongest. 

He considered himself exceedingly humble, too, of course. 

Humble enough to not brag outright in your face once Gojo had climbed the treacherous way into being your personal knight before the age of twenty. 

“Hah, I can tell your father- erm, his majesty all about where you sneak off to now.” Gojo snickered, flicking your forehead in a way that a princess simply shouldn’t be treated. “Perhaps I’ll bargain titles with him- tell the courts about the way you climb trees, and ride horses and-”

“Snitch”

“Harlot.”

“Knave.”

“Hobgoblin.”

“Satoru.” You’d deadpanned up at as six foot four inches of white-haired nuisance clinging onto whimpers out a dramatic ouch, that one hurt. Desperately trying to keep the smile off of your face, “You’re with me each and every single time.”

Well, was. 

It seemed like the king was to be putting a stop to that very, very soon. With your looming- he gulps to keep the leaden ball of tears away from his throat, your engagement. 

“Toru—” Your voice snaps him out of his hazy little reverie, and he finds himself straightening his back into a respectful posture outside of the throne room. Warily eyeing the way you bound up to him, “What did my father want to talk to you about so suddenly?”

“Ah…” Gojo’s throat feels hoarse. Parched. The smile plastering onto his face wobbly, “Just- just security measures for the visitor we’re going to have, your royal highness.”

Your brows quirk upwards, pretty lips falling open just enough for him to realize you were about to comment on his use of that. That title. 

“Now if you pardon this knight, ma’am-” Gojo pipes up before you can bludgeon him with questions, striding down the luxurious hallway to his newly-assigned post at the royal treasury. Far, far away from your chambers. “-I have been called by Knight Commander Yaga to my-”

“Satoru- wait.”

He should’ve known better than to have thought he could escape you - not when even his own heart didn’t want to.

Lurching up in an almost-nauseating swoop the moment your voice echoes from behind, hitting his glinting armor. “You…are you okay—? You haven’t called me any of those silly formal titles since we first met.” Words practically dripping with concern, fuck- he was sure your face was furrowing. And if it was up to him he would kiss away every tense crevice. 

But no, that was not his place. 

His place was to stand rooted to the spot, face turning only a half-degree to grace you with a soft bow. Gojo knew it wasn’t the epitome of respect, but a singular look in your face right now and he would break.

“I am in perfect condition to carry out my duties, ma’am.” He’s nodding, voice oh-so-brittle in his throat for how hardened it thundered.

“That’s not what I mean.” Stubborn.

Gojo turns back to the winding corridor in front of him, “Then if that is all, I shall be on my way. I hope you have a good day, ma’am.”

“Satoru.”

And if his cheeks were cold and encrusted with a few streaks of salty tears when he reached the treasury, Gojo was only grateful that his fellow knight Ijichi was too afraid of him to say anything.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru was avoiding you - marching the other way if he glimpsed you, running around the palace for menial tasks, he wasn’t even your personal guard anymore, for goodness’ sake! Your best friend was ignoring you and you weren’t sure why. 

Was it because you had to skip out on your daily walks in the lilac garden to greet the visiting Zenin royals? 

No, he was always so understanding of the royal responsibilities that you couldn’t skive off. Besides, his strange attitude had sparked up even before Prince Naoya and his family arrived at your kingdom - ever since that meeting with your father.

You were dying to ask the king what exactly was talked about that day, a meeting so confidential that he didn’t even have the royal advisor transcripting it. But your father was always so busy with the older Zenin couple these days, cooped up in office rooms surrounded to the brim with official documents. 

And that left you with…him.

Naoya Zenin. A prince if there was ever any, who couldn’t talk about anything but that. 

“So…um.” Your eyes dart around the palace gardens, you always did love it here - that comforting smell of flowers wafting in clouds around you. But right now you felt anything but comforted. “How are you liking the garden, Prince Naoya?”

He shakes his brown-tipped locks, eyes narrowing. “Rather plebian for a royal palace, if I do say so myself.”

“R-right…” You’re sputtering in an unlady-like fashion, “We do have orchards too if you wanted to-”

“Of course, the gardens in my palace are much bigger-” He’s waving a gloved hand loftily, nose crinkling into a sneer at the bustling gardeners planting beautiful white blossoms everywhere. Honestly, you were informed there was a grand ball soon - but wasn’t this a bit much? “And we teach the help to stay out of sight.”

“Well, I think they’re really nice.” You’re huffing, brows marrying together. 

He scoffs, “Nice- or useful?”

“Both.”You fight the urge to just storm off then and there - it wouldn’t do good to start a war between the two most powerful kingdoms right now. 

“Ah yes yes- nice.” Naoya repeats airily, words warbling as if he was biting back a laugh. “Suppose the low-borns are tolerable if they’re nice.”

A vision of Gojo - tiny and trembling into a bow in front of you - flashed through your mind, and you find your pretty heels digging hard into the dark soil. That was it.

“Perhaps.” Your voice comes out dangerously even, dangerously. Naoya only raises his brows in faint interest, “Yet, even the least tolerable tch- ‘low-born’ would be more tolerable than a pompous, arrogant-”

“There you are, your highnesses!” 

Satoru. 

You would recognize that low, lilting baritone amongst a thousand others. And before you can turn around to face your best friend that had been missing for days, he plows on, “A little gift- from this lowborn.”

Thud!

Before you can even blink, pale hands reach out to unceremoniously dump a radiant yellow flower crown on Naoya’s blond bangs. And you swear Gojo pushed down on his head harder than necessary.

The first thing you register is the warm wall of muscles pushing up against your back, lecherously counting every ladder of washboard abs and Gojo’s plush pecs in your mind. Mindlessly, you’re leaning back even closer, savoring the way his breath hitches. Harlot. 

The second thing you’re realizing is that Naoya Zenin - for the first time in twenty-something years - had gone quiet. Very, very quiet. Suspiciously so. 

You force your words into some semblance of levelness, “Are you…are you alright, Prince Naoya?”

But Naoya didn’t speak - you didn’t know if he was even breathing. Long face growing greyer and greyer by the second, he doesn’t answer you.

No, instead he’s pointing a trembling finger behind you. “You there…you- what shrub have you placed upon my royal head?”

“Laburnum.” Comes the answer - and just as soon comes a drawling, strangled squawk.

Your first instinct is to look towards the shimmering lake not too far away from you, eyes searching for any trace of those familiar ducks- before gasping in surprise and looking back to the prince. Mouth ajar, still making those undignified noises. 

Him? 

“You- you will-” He hisses, so furious that you have to take a step back - right into Gojo’s waiting arms - to avoid his flecks of spit. “-you will pay for this.”

In only a split-second, Naoya had thrown the flower crown onto the ground and wheezed his way up the flowery pathway back to the castle. What a sight it was.

But nothing compared to the way that Gojo comes into your line of sight and preens. One hand tapping at his cheek in thought, the other held behind his back. “Whoops- I forgot that the king specifically informed me that our honored guest was allergic to laburnum flowers. Guess, low-borns aren’t of good memory. Right, my princess?”

“Satoru- you- you ass.” You’re yelping through fits of laughter, not caring for the way the rest of the gardening staff smiles knowingly. “What if that bastard gets deathly sick? The blame would be on you.”

He rolls his summer blue eyes, “Proudly.”

“I should send you to the gallows for this.”

Gasping in faux shock, “Most salacious indeed!”

And for the first time in so long, it feels normal. 

The breezing heat of Gojo’s body against yours feels normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to think too deeply about it. Too enchanted by the sheer lack of armor - all billowy white poet shirt and flattering cotton pants. 

“Y-yeah well-” Shit- why was your skin burning this way? The sun wasn’t even at peak temperature for today. Absentmindedly, you’re playing with one of his silk lapels, “Thank goodness we’re losing him in a few days, I asked mother and she said the Zenin’s are only visiting until the fast-approaching ball.” 

“Princess-” It all comes out in a rush, “-that ball. The reason for it is actually-”

“Your highness! The queen is asking for a conference with you!” The curious voices of your maidservants drag you away from Gojo’s arms, into a much less scandalous position.

And yet, with only a nod behind - you still stay standing in front of him. You stay.

“Right…” Gojo’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a deep gulp. Shadowy gaze darting away, “I should get back to my duties, ma’am. Suguru has been abusing his position as head gardener to work me like a mule.”

The way your face crumples with disappointment makes Gojo’s heart feel sliced open. And raw. “Of course. I’ll see you around, Gojo.”

Gojo. Gojo. 

And of course he couldn’t let you walk away - of course he couldn’t let you leave his life just yet. 

So without thinking, without even realizing, he’s clasping a slender hand around your wrist to pull you back. To reel you in. To him. 

Velvety strands of snow-white curtain Gojo’s eyes, and the doughy fingerpads on your skin shiver. Mumbling, “Before- Before you go, my prin- ma’am. I just wanted to give you-” And you don’t know what makes your heart race more - the cherry-red blush painting all over Gojo’s cheeks and up to the very tips of his ears, or the sunny flower crown clasped in a hand pulled from behind his back. “-this.”

Your mouth drops into an awe-struck oh! It was beautiful - trickling blossoms of every shade of yellow entwined gently together. Embedded with celestially dainty buds of an amber so pale it looked almost white, diamonds on a tiara fit for a princess. 

You had a feeling it would be your favorite one.  

All you could think of was Gojo with his staggering hands, and his battle-worn fingers, making something so delicate for you. 

“Is…is this one just as allergy-inducing as the other, Satoru?” You’re breathing, rustled by a breeze so gentle that it almost hurts.  

“No.” Gojo whispers, just as quiet. As if the slightest sign of a raised voice would break whatever saccharinely thick moment this was, “Yellow acacia and yellow carnation. For you, my princess.”

For the way he’d be losing you just as soon as he loses that asshat. 

And even once you’d adorned his crown and been hurried off by a few palace staff, Gojo stared. Even once you were nothing but a speck of royal satin and yellow crowns, he stared. Even once you were gone, and he was left so very alone, he stared. 

Only thanking the heavens above that you always slept through your flower language lessons. 

.

.

.

Over the next few days; wherever you were, Naoya Zenin was to follow. 

And Gojo was sure that it was pushing the young royal closer and closer to a spectacular aneurysm any time that you called specifically for him to accompany you. Blatantly refusing any other knight that came your way.

The pointed third during “romantic” boat rides on the lake, always the guard overseeing dinners, the one to step in with a blunder if your future fiancé got too…opinionated. Gojo was always there. 

It was more like you spent your time trying to make his dutiful façade crack than supposedly entertaining your guest.

Sneaky princess. 

After all - Gojo found himself pacing and arguing out loud with himself any time you did - he was simply doing his job, right? Even if the aforementioned job went against just a few direct orders from the king himself. 

But these were a direct order from the princess. His princess. And Gojo had stopped his procedural traversing and ranting since realizing this. 

Although- the head chef, Nanami’s, veiled threat about turning him into pig feed the next time he heard stomping may have played a slight part in this, as well. 

And it was on such a day that Gojo found himself stationed to guard the inside of the royal drawing room. Spine ramrod straight, eyes flooded with steel while he took in the sight of you and that bastard- Naoya sketching the other in silence. 

It was a dainty, sunlit room, and the hours might have almost been peaceful - if it wasn’t for the split-haired bastard, that is. 

After that flower fiasco and a thorough telling off for misremembering the prince’s allergies, this was meant to make up for a “bonding activity” according to the king; which to him read more like a desperate attempt to push the two of you together before the grand ball tomorrow night. 

Gojo’s chest caves in with a sudden spike of pain, tomorrow night. Your engagement ball, where you will surely be handed off to a man who wouldn’t be worthy of you in a thousand different lives. 

Fuck, had it really been days since already?

It hurt too much, and so he looks towards the prince’s parchment- how insulting. Hundreds of royal art lessons, yet Naoya still couldn’t capture the exact curve of your smile. And those pretty crinkles by your eyes- they were entirely the wrong number! And Gojo’s sure that any fool could see the way your lips-

He was getting ahead of himself. And reminded embarrassingly of the hundreds of sketches of you over the years stowed away underneath his bed alongside a stubby piece of charcoal. 

And he was leaning over the prince in a way that he was sure would get him strung and quartered in the Zenin palace. Or, at least, that’s what Naoya’s daggered glare was telling him. 

With a sheepish smirk, Gojo snatches a glimpse at your artwork. Stifling a laugh at the way you’ve given up on drawing the other man and started engaging in idle scribblings of weasels and hollies. 

“That one looks like him, don’t you think?” He can’t help but whisper from the corner of his mouth, stomach swooping in delight as soon as your eyes light up. 

Tacking on a familiar hairstyle and sneer onto a particularly shoddy caricature of one of the weasels, giggling. “He does.”

Gojo points at another drawing - this time of a bullfrog- honestly, what interests for a princess. “And that’s-”

“That Jinichi.” You’re finishing off for him, carelessly drawing away a few more - quite frankly, Gojo finds everything you do beautiful, but these were appallingly ugly - scribbles of foxes and goats. “That one’s Oji Zenin, and that’s Gakuganji and that’s-”

“Ahem.”

There was only one person who could make the clearing of a throat sound so snobbish. And that was Naoya Zenin. 

Brows raised, feet tapping impatiently on polished marble as he snatches the parchment from your grip. 

Schwing–!

“Toru- no.” 

Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s pulling out his famed, silver sword until you’re stopping him with a hand to his tense bicep. Shit.

Growling through clenched teeth once more at Naoya while he nestles it back into its scabbard with unsteady fingers - only because you asked. 

But the other man doesn’t even flinch - wearing that perfect mask of regal stoicity, though Gojo manages to catch the way his eyes flicker nervously down at the hilt of his sword. Doesn’t show anything other than the tightening of his thin lips as he gazes upon your humorous drawings. 

The impatient tap! tap! tap! of his feet slowing down, stopping - before Naoya throws your paper down onto the floor and stomps. Gojo would’ve almost found it comedic if it hadn’t been for your startled demeanour.

“Excuse me-” He’s hissing, angling his broad body between you and this unseemly sight. Gojo looks dead-on into Naoya’s spit-fire red face, “-but I would have to hope not to remind a young prince of royal etiquette.”

“Excuse me, sir.”

“No need to call me ‘sir’, your highness.”

Naoya looks up, death in his eyes.

Gojo thought this might be the end. The missed trip to the dungeons all those years ago was finally catching up to him, and he would be thrown in today for drawing his weapon on a royal but goddammit- if he wasn’t going to keep you safe from his ire for as long as he breathes and then some.

But - to both you and Gojo’s surprise, and perhaps even Naoya himself - he simply turns swiftly on his heels and walks out of the room. Letting the heavy double-doors SLAM! deafeningly behind him. 

It takes a beat. One. Two. 

He counts every raging ba-dump–! of his heart against this ribcage- before the terse silence shatters with laughter. 

“Toru- To- Satoru—!” You’re wiping away genuine tears, “‘No need to call me sir-’ where did you even come up with that-”

“Fuck! You can laugh but I thought I was headed to the gallows.” He’s exclaiming, and it was quite difficult to act as if your laugh wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d heard in his entire life. “Although- it would have been a killer last line. Wouldn’t it, my princess?”

The two of you stare at each other for one singular ba-dump–! Before bursting into peels of undignified cackles that could make an entire court shiver in scandal. 

“Killer- killer alright-” You’re rolling your watery eyes, “This is just as bad as the time you caught Yaga in his interpretive rain dance routine- I thought you were surely dead then.”

Please, Gojo’s stomach and his heart were hurting - though, for very different reasons. “Not as bad as when you wanted to play dress-up with the sacred royal crown and lost it.”

“Don’t remind me, my father was-” That’s when your tear-lathered lashes flutter, a hand coming up to swat softly against your cheek as if to jolt back your senses. You’re groaning over Gojo’s whine, “-my father. Oh no! What will he say about this?” You almost knock your cushy stool over with how fast you’re teetering into a stand, “I must go apologize to weasel- Naoya right away lest relations with the Zenins-”

“Let me.”

Your brows raise, “What?”

“Let me.” Gojo’s repeating, more firmly this time. Thumb grazing briefly down your knuckles as he pulls you back into your seat. 

Just for a split-second - like he couldn’t even think of letting himself touch such a precious treasure. 

He knows you will argue this, he knows your stupidly selfless self will fight to apologize; which is why before you can say a word, he’s marching hastily out of those same doors and towards the luxurious guest chambers. 

Truthfully, Gojo Satoru didn’t give a fuck about Naoya Zenin - but he’ll be damned if you, his beloved, was cast in a hameful light because of his childish actions. 

He has to do something for you, while he still can. While he still has you. While he can still love you.

The corridors are winding, decadent. He takes a deep breath when nearing the slightly-open gilded door of the Zenin suite, that distinctly nasally tone of Naoya drifting in conversation from within. Shuddering in a deep breath, “Pardon m-”

“-drew me as a weasel!” The prince bursts, fury seeping into every hard syllable of his. Gojo stills where he stands outside, hand on the cool metallic doorknob. “I have never met such a vulgar, unrefined-”

“Oh, do bear it until the engagement Naoya.” The gruff voice of a man responds - and he recognizes it from all the recent chiding at palace staff to be the prince’s cousin, Jinichi Zenin. “After that ya can take your time breaking ‘er in.”

What? 

“A boor telling me to break in a wench.” The younger man scoffs, though he sounds much calmer than just moments before. 

Gojo thinks he could throw up all over the gleaming floors, he thinks he wants to keel over and beg at the king’s feet to keep this from happening to you. He thinks he just might. 

But right now, he can’t bring his feet to move a single inch. Pressing himself up closer against the adjacent patterned wall, sharp ear yearning for more shards of the conversation. 

“They’re all the same anyways.” Says Jinichi, “Just give ‘er something sparkly or flowery and keep her sated. Don’t want another one running off before you can dig your claws into the crown, now, do we?”

And perhaps he’s a hopeless fool for praying that Naoya might say something - anything - else. Wishing for the non-existent good in your soon-to-be fiancé, who only grits out a displeased, “Fine. Only because I want to see her pretty lil’ face when I break her to my will.” There’s the sound of urgent footsteps, “But if father doesn’t give me the throne for my efforts then I’m killing her and you, you brute.”

Stood stock still.

Gojo doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to - and right now, ice-cold spikes of anger were the only thing latching him rooted to the spot, not even flinching once Naoya closes the door behind him and walks- seeing him. 

His jaw clenches, eyes harrowing. “You.” 

And Naoya had very clearly taken the opportunity to arm himself in his family chamber, because his spindly fingers itch towards the hilt of his dangerously glinting sword. Just seconds away from-

“Please.” 

Gojo drops onto one knee, the tendons of his neck aching with how far downwards he had it bent into a pitiful bow. “I ask his highness to please let the princess go- to call off this impending engagement. I- I will bear the brunt of committing an offense, and will gladly take any punishment that is bestowed upon me. I just please beg of you to-”

“The same hand.”

“What?” Gojo forces himself to look up with tear-filled eyes, to face the prince squarely in his chestnut gaze. His delighted chestnut gaze. 

Pointing towards his right hand, “The same hand you were to raise your sword at me, the same hand you used to put that wretched toxic flower crown on me-” And then his blade, “-I order you to repent.”

The other man breathes, “Repent…”

“Repent.” Naoya stands up taller, perhaps the most self-confident that Gojo has ever seen him. A barbarous curl of his lips starting to form, “Repent, and I shall consider ending my engagement with the princ-”

CRUNCH!

Pain. Blinding pain was all that Gojo could feel, and…relief. 

He couldn’t even register the steady trickle of warm crimson on his skin and onto the floor in rose-like splotches - even though he could see it through bleary eyes. Head still spinning to catch up with the nanosecond events of drawing his sword and slicing a wide gash down his forearm. 

Through half-lidded eyes, he puts back his bloodied blade into the scabbard and looks up at the stricken prince. 

Repentance. 

“So you love her.” Is all that Naoya hisses. And Gojo can’t lie, nor can he muddy your name. 

So he simply waits quietly, silence speaking enough for eons. Waiting for you to be set free. And if he tried, he could even manage a smile-

Sniffing insolently - though, it sounded more like a snicker. “How valiant, for a low-born.” All that is said before he spits furiously at Gojo’s feet and breezes past in a swish of capes - as if nothing ever happened. “I might even invite you to the princess and I’s wedding ceremony.”

.

.

.

In a palace of thousands, it was only Gojo Satoru that could manage to stand out. 

None of the royal jesters could make the court laugh quite as loud. None of the other knights - no matter how muscled, or chivalrous - could make the ladies-in-waiting swoon just as much. And none of the other reputable men could make you seek him out in every chamber, state room, or training ground just like this.  

It was strange not to see even the barest glimpse of Gojo for an entire day, and the palace didn’t quite feel like a home without him.

“I’m telling you, Nobara–” You’re wheezing out in condensed puffs as your eager right-hand attendant continues mercilessly tightening away the undergarments of your ballgown. “Something’s probably happened to him or-”

“-or he’s being locked up for offending some uppity duke.” She’s rolling her honeypool eyes, one of the few who wasn’t afraid to express themselves this way in front of you. Flitting about the opulent dressing room you rarely liked to use, “You know how that eugh- Gojo is.”

“Which is precisely why I’m worried.”

Honestly, you didn’t even care for a grand ball when you didn’t know where your best friend was. Whether he was in the dungeons or…worse. 

But Nobara wasn’t here to hear you ramble about Gojo Satoru - you oftentimes got the impression that he irritated her too much for her own liking - she was here to doll you up in costly pale blue silks and muslins that draped off of you prettier than a painting. 

And you felt dizzy by the time she let you be escorted off towards the emanating music of the ballroom - with an excited goodbye and a reluctant promise to keep an eye out for Gojo. 

Hair done more intricately than you could’ve even imagined, your jewelry caught every light in the room, a bejeweled flower tiara weighing heavily on your head. Adorning your face in a crown that reminded you of the one Gojo had made you only a few days ago. 

It was almost a struggle to keep your face held high as you took the first few steps down the winding imperial staircase. To the ball. 

You have to stop yourself from tilting your head down at the thrumming masses of decadently dressed-up nobles and clinking champagne to check whether Gojo was hidden away somewhere down there. 

Manners. Posture. Eye contact. 

It was all painfully practised, and so was the tightening of your features as your own father started reading off your introduction. He never took on this task - what was happening?

“And now, for the most important guest of all-” Booming voice thundering in your ears almost as loud as your heartbeat was. The king addresses the congregation in the middle of the dancefloor, more ruler than father at this point. “-my daughter, princess of our beloved kingdom. And the queen of the next!”

Your hand stills where it had been helping you balance in your heels down the stairway- what?

Thankfully, your father carries on - or rather, not thankfully, considering what his next words are. 

“Yes, my people, this may come as a surprise to you all.” He chuckles above the deafening murmurs, and you slowly find yourself scurrying onto the raised platform your father’s throne was seated on. “But tonight is not only a simple celebration of our nation, it’s a celebration of love. Of two nations.”

There’s a beat of silence as he reaches out a withered hand to you, and you find yourself wordlessly taking it. 

“F-father, what-” you whisper, but there’s no response. Your skin bristles with goosebumps, and you’re not sure whether it’s from the summer breeze wafting from the gardens, or from the speech’s implications.

Letting yourself be pulled right into the middle of the stage,right into the spotlight - where Naoya Zenin was waiting for you. Dressed in his finest suit of white silk, adorned with layers upon layers of military accolades and velvety medals. 

The bright, blazing light of the chandelier was scorching, and your hands clench in unease. What was happening?

“That is right, my people.” The king drags your hand up to mesh in an entwinement with Naoya’s clammy ones, holding it up for the eager public to see. “After much consideration and forethought, our royal families have decided that today my daughter is the beloved princess of our nation. But tomorrow, she will be the future queen of the Zenin kingdom.”

There’s cheering - but you can’t hear any of it. In fact, the entire world could be falling upon you and you don’t think you would have noticed. 

All you can feel is the queasy churning of your stomach, and the stern whisper of Naoya’s voice against your ear. Fingers tightening around your own, bruisingly. “Dance with me before I break this pretty hand, princess.”

You’re like a ragdoll, being puppeteered in a rigid beeline onto the dance floor. 

If it wasn’t for one of Naoya’s hands bracing onto your waist, you wouldn’t even have realized that the royal orchestra had started up a gorgeous waltz. A slow, romantic melody that you might’ve otherwise loved if you weren’t trapped in the arms of a fiancé you never asked for. 

“Looking pretty out of it there, princess.” The prince sneers after a few practised motions of your dance, making your dazed eyes stray from the swooning crowd and onto his pointed features. 

And despite it all, you can’t help but feel betrayed. You thought that the two of you might have rapport at your obligation, if nothing else. “You- you didn’t even tell me. An entire engagement and you didn’t even bother to-”

“As a husband, I don’t owe my tch- wife anything.” His nose crinkles at your wandering eyes, the way your feet itched ever-closer to the surrounding people rather than the dancefloor. “Wishing it was someone else dancing with you?”

“Yes.” You’re spitting out before you can stop, trying oh-so-hard not to let your face twist into even a semblance of the fury steeped inside of you. “Anyone but a husband that I never wanted and never will want.”

“As if you deserve any bett-”

Your nails dig into one set of his fingers enough to engrave deep craters, almost enough to make him bleed. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth.” 

Naoya seems stunned for a few seconds - but, alas, just when you’re hoping that you’ve shut him up for good, you’re faced with the fact that the universe isn’t that kind to you.

“You mean you would marry the tch- low-born.” He pulls you into an incredibly rough twirl when the music crescendos, pulling you even closer. It’s all you can do to not fight his grip- “I’m not below finishing off his other hand if that’s what it takes to break you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

Each word jagged. “The knight. You love him, don’t act stupid.” 

Raising your chin in defiance, “So what?” And just as much as confusion filled you, as did panic. Because Naoya’s grip was only getting firmer, his moves much harsher. Opening his mouth to spit out- 

“Pardon me, your highnesses.” A deep bass cuts in, startled- you almost give yourself whiplash peering up into those fathomless mahogany eyes. Yaga’s thin brows furrowing into something heavily-set, “May I cut in for a dance with the princess?”

You don’t wait for an answer from Naoya - and neither does Commander Yaga. Swiftly sweeping you into his engulfing embrace as the orchestra changes into something slightly more upbeat. 

Dressed in a thick suit adorned with even more medals than Naoya - ones you knew for sure were real, unlike his. And you couldn’t help but wonder just how good Gojo would look with his own.

“So…” Yaga starts, once more couples join the floor and his words can’t be heard over the shuffling of feet by anyone other than you. His calloused hands let you lead him through a waltz much more mellow than what Naoya had with you. You always did think that the leader of your knights was a gentle giant. “Begging you to forgive my indiscretion, ma’am but ah- trouble in paradise?”

“Trouble in hell, as expected.” You’re shuddering, gaze bouncing off of any flash of sapphire blue around the room. 

The man in front of you nods gravely, “Right right. I might not be a married man, but even I know that times like these often call for a walk in the lilac garden. You know, to- ah, clear your head.”

Quirking a brow, you stare at him. “What?”

And oh, Yaga simply looked like all the gold in the world couldn’t pay him enough for this. 

“Times like these-” He’s emphasizing, boring deeply into your eyes as if to mean every syllable to strike your very core. And it does. You don’t know why, but it does. “-call for a walk in the lilac garden.”

Oh.

“Oh.” 

Yaga’s lips twitch upwards into an almost-smile, and his rumbling voice is soft for the next few words. “Go, your highness.”

So you do.

You’re realizing, with an ache of such gentle appreciation, that the commander had danced you two until you were practically teetering on the massive veranda. Open to the garden; where every prim hedge, bush, and tree was gorgeously decorated until your eyes sparkled. 

Your breath bates…a choice. Head turning back to the luxuries of a royal ball that was none-the-wiser. 

Then, with a brief hug you bully Yaga into, you run - as much as the delicate heels digging into your feet would allow. Faster. 

If this was any other time, you might’ve felt disappointed at how you weren’t even stopping to admire the beauty of the moonlight-bathed garden. But right now, your heart was only pounding to go faster and faster. 

Nothing else mattered. 

Gojo was leaning on one pillar of the same white gazebo - and he was beautiful. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was a faerie of the night. 

Just a lone, tall silhouette that you could recognize so well; azure eyes twinkling, ivory strands of his hair shimmering with the silvery blue of the moon swimming amongst a dark sky. One he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of until he jolts his head towards the sharp snap! of a twig underneath your rapid feet.

“My…my princess.” He falls onto one knee. 

It all comes out in a whisper - as if Gojo had dreamed of this moment so many repeated times before and wasn’t sure if this was a dream, too.

“Satoru-!”

It wasn’t.

Gojo stands up to embrace you like it’d be the last time he ever would, like you were the one thing connecting him to this life and he was a dying man desperate to breathe. 

Strong arms winding around your waist, you’re pushed against one of the closed-off walls of the gazebo before you can even realize it. Arching off of the cool wooden surface and into his blistering heat. Into every ravenous, panted-out cloud of breath against your ear, “You came.”

He sounded pained. And you were sure you did just as much when you’re whimpering, “You disappeared.”

Gojo lets off a choked-up noise that could’ve been anything from affirmation to blatant shock. Half-lidded eyes boring deeply into yours, he shrugs off the jacket on his non-dominant arm to you with a low bow. 

“May I have this dance, my princess?”

You’re gasping at the sight of starchy white bandages around his other hand, fingers hesitantly falling into Gojo’s heated flesh. “S-Satoru, what happened ah-”

But he drifts you gently into a soundless dance, the distant crickets and swish! of lilac branches your only tune. 

And you never even understood just how much Gojo was a part of your life until he was moving through the exact same steps of waltzing that you’d learned growing up. The exact same once that you used to force him to sit through.

“I thought you were here because you read my letter.” Gojo mutters, lips so close now that they grazed the sensitive shell of your ear. 

You’re having trouble finding your voice, “What letter?” 

“The- the one that I left-” Just for you. His long lashes flutter open in shock, features contorted into something almost devastated. You wonder what made him feel this way. “-the one that I left in your chambers- about the- the prince, and the engagement and-”

“I got prepared for the ball in the dressing room today, I didn’t go to my room.” You’re continuing, voice small. Scared. “Satoru…you knew about the engagement?”

And Gojo’s voice told you everything you needed to know.

You feel your angry flare up hot and red, fists curling into Gojo’s delicate lapels. But that only proves to inch him even closer and make you sound much more breathless than you intended, “You knew about it and- and you didn’t even think to give me a hint that I was being carted off like a prize for some pompous asshat?”

He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, lips still so pink in the night, wobbling. “I…I couldn’t let you be married, I just couldn’t. I would give my life if it meant you get the freedom to choose who you wanted.” Your dance had stalled, and you almost feel disappointed. “But I’m a coward, and this-” Gojo throws his hands across, voice hitching, “-sneaking around, hiding, running away is the only way I could ever-”

“You should have told me. Not just in the letter.” You’re insisting, running your hands through your hair. Suddenly, something strikes you, “That arm- it’s because of Naoya, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t even have the energy to protest, and that only spurs you on even more. “I-I could have talked to my father- maybe the council and we could have made it so that…”

“So that what?” Gojo’s voice hardens as much as it could with you, which wasn’t very much at all. His fists clench and unclench at his sides like it was taking everything in him to not just…“So that you can be the laughingstock of the kingdom when you marry a low-born knight?”

He was right. They would never accept him, no matter how much you did.

You’re rendered speechless, shivering at the way he rubs his wet eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, I don’t want you- I need you.” And he was so beautiful like this, just centimeters away from you in the escape of the night. “I need you. I need you, I need you- I need you more than the sun above my head, and the air that I breathe, my princess. You have bewitched me, and I am yours. But you cannot be mine-”

You breathe out, “Satoru…”

“-and maybe in another life-”

“Maybe in this one.”

Soft hands rover their way onto the sides of your arms, and Gojo shakes you feebly as if to snap you out of this hypnosis and urge you to run. Eyes wide, yearning. “I have always been yours, body and soul.”

You always have wondered whether there was a method to shut Gojo Satoru up. And, right now, you think you may have found the perfect answer. 

Because his entire towering figure just melts into your touch the very second you press your lips onto Gojo’s plump ones. Soft. Velvety. 

His nostrils flare through a breathy sigh when you tilt your head mere sultry degrees to deepen the kiss. You were addicted to the honey-coated taste of him, the flat drag of his scratchy tastebuds rolling over your loosening maw. 

“Ngh- my princess…” He’s puncturing your kisses with kiss after sloppy kiss, heavy hands wrapping around your body to wrangle you flush against his hardened ones. And you could count every glissade of his washboard abs through that thin poet’s blouse, “I love you.”

You’re not sure if it’s a fragment of your imagination, or- it’s not. 

Gojo manhandles you - and himself - to sit on the opulent gazebo bench with you plopped into his manspread lap, without breaking the kiss for a split-second. Because it hurt to part from your pretty, candied lips, to let those slippery strings of saliva break in the clouded air between you two.

Even if it was to purr out—

“I love you I love you I love you-” The straight edges of his pearly white teeth sinking into your lower lip, groaning from the back of his throat. And your jittery legs shift needily on his warm, meaty thighs, “-I love you.”

“Satoru—” Just about the only thing that you can say right about now, your tone resounds in Gojo’s ears and makes him grunt. Your fingers tangle into his cushy locks, “T-touch me.”

He snickers, one hand clawing onto the crown of your sweat-dampened scalp and wrenching your face away until you’re huffing and puffing cutely for more. “Mmm, how about we use those princess-y manners of yours, hm?”

“Please-”

“Louder.”

“Please.”

“Harlot.” Gojo slides in a looong few digits past those impossibly endless skirts of yours, making your thighs dampen with treacly webs of needy slick. Letting those doughy fingerpads fringe over the covered mound of your pussy, just the very edges. “That was my f-first kiss, y’know?”

He had been hopelessly saving it for you, after all. 

Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your weighted lids as soon as he teases you, mewling. “Was mine too, so we’re even-” Your hips shift in a lazy back n’ forth on top of his heated core, “-just- just want you to touch me.”

“I dunno…” Gojo drawls - drunken. And you feel the edges of his kiss-bitten lips warp around the very tip of your plummy tongue to suck on like his favorite gummy candy, “Wanna kiss my princess just a lil’ bit more.”

Panting, “K-kiss?”

“Mhm.” 

Your eyes shutter in a heady blink, oh-so-cutely ready to crash back into a filthy, filthy French kiss once more, Gojo pulls away-

A noise of disappointment fresh on your lips and just about to spill out, before he lifts you up easily with only a single beefy hand underneath your body. Splaying you out on the sprawling wooden table right beside you, your back hits the ice-cold surface and makes you gasp into the crisp night air.

The lecherous sound of it almost as loud as the sudden clack! of Gojo’s knees collapsing down onto the floor. Your face contorts into a wince because surely it sent a stinging pain up his legs?

“M’quite used to being on my knees for you, my princess.”

But he didn’t seem to care - didn’t even seem to notice when he was much more enamored with the heavenly sight down there.

“These lips-” He smears away your lacy layers upon layers, budging up to nuzzle the soft skin of your inner thighs. And shit- the filmy glaze over his eyes told you that Gojo doesn’t even realize the way his bubblegum pink tongue lolls out over the splotchy spatters of your juices. “-were tellin’ me they feel a little…left out.”

Your mouth waters with a syrupy lamination of saliva as soon as his murked breath strikes your cunt. And the drag of his rumbling bass is so delicious – you couldn’t help but imagine just how it would feel on you.

“Just- just get it on with it-” you’re hissing, fingers latching onto a few thick locks of ivory to drudge him ever-closer. 

“Impatient.”

As if Gojo himself wasn’t impatient. 

As if he wasn’t just leaking out thick wads of drool from the parted sides of his twisted grin at just the thought of tasting you. Sliding the pointed tip of his button nose languidly up the crevice of your puffed-up slit, he breathes you in and feels his cock twitch-

“Oh, princess.” Gojo can’t move, he can’t breathe if it wasn’t around your needy cunt right now. He’s ignoring those shooting bites of pain up the sides of his arm to tug on your useless garments.

Pulling- shit, he always did fucking hate how many layers you royalty had to wear. 

Pulling and pulling until the slow trawl of your undergarments by his nimble fingers wasn’t enough, and he just had to lunge his cottony head over to plummet his pearly whites into your panties and rip—!

A proper, gaping hole where your teary pussy was- and you looked even more gorgeous down there than he could’ve imagined.

Gojo’s face was blank, eyes wide and locked right at your geysering orifice like a man starved. For eons it felt like, until you were bucking up with pure need.

You’re humming in concern, struggling up onto your elbows to stare down at him. “Sa…Toru?”

And at your pretty voice, Gojo twitches. He gasps - full-bodied, like you’d just sent a zillion volts of shock down his sloped spine just by speaking to him. And he was well and fully intent on acting on it-

“Princess…princess princess princess—” Leaking from between his lips like he couldn’t stop, he hits the cute target of your cunt instantaneously with a fat thud of spittle, one. Two. Three, until your entrance was overflooding. He’s drawling the plummy end of his spit-glossed maw across your folds, “Oh, my princess. Just look at you.”

You feel his mess drool off the side of your plumpened pussylips and smear all across your peaked clit with only a simple touch of Gojo’s round-ended thumb. 

Just down-right filthy when he crashes forward to slot the curvaceous nub of his sweltering hot tongue over the brim of your hole. Drawing all over that snug orifice with slow patterns round n’ round-

“Toru–!” It’s the only thing you know at this point. “Toru.”

“Whaaat? Jealous, my princess?” The words clang in your head- and the realization hits you at the same moment Gojo’s thickly viscous swab of spit does on your own tongue. A soft nudge at your slackened chin urging you to swallow-

And he can’t waste a second, can’t spend even a mere moment away from his favorite spot between your legs. Because now that Gojo got a taste, he wants alllll of it.

Stumbling back down in haste to plant so many uncountable smooches on your bawling pussy folds. Skimming his tastebuds just along your quivering hole.

“Shit- shiiiit–” When you’d heard court ladies giggling about this, you didn’t think it would feel this good. Or maybe that’s just because it was Gojo stuffing himself impossibly deeper between your legs. “M-more, Toru–”

Your voice was cracking just as much as his fucking sanity was. 

Trilling out into frenzied shrills when Gojo swerves his eager thumb to pry open your gluey folds even further and give your fattened clit a flick!

You swear you feel Gojo depart his jaw with a giggle when your hips are bucking up pliably off the splintered table and into the bustling hot cavern of his mouth. More. “Easy there, your royal highness-”

“D-don’t call me that–” You’re whimpering, fingers tugging on Gojo’s bangs in some form of retaliation. But, of course it backfires on you just as soon as the force makes your knight moan.

“Wasn’t calling you that.” Gojo rolls his eyes, and your heart races in anticipation when the pointed edge of his chin strikes the drowned ends of your cunt. Lathering his pretty features in all the collective beads of slick raining fountaining out of you. His summer blue eyes flick downwards - and you can’t help but follow. “Was talking to her. Isn’t that right?”

Fuck.

You were fucked. 

And you were losing your mind when Gojo drags you roughly towards the edge of the table with only an ounce of his strength. Mouth making out greedily, heels digging into the fleshy mounds of his back, you can only sob and beg for more more more-

“S’fuckin’ chattier than my girl.” He’s nodding along with every saturated squelch after squelch! resonating in his eardrums - as if it was a full-on conversation with your noisy pussy. “Let’s hope that fiancé of yours doesn’t hah- f-fucking hear.”

But Gojo was acting like he wanted him to.

“Hope the- the king doesn’t find his princess bein’ eaten out by- ngh- a knight.” Barrelling long, slender inches of his index and pointer past your tight ring of mushy muscle. 

Your head throws back when he digs into the velvety depths of your pussy with just a single quirk-

“O-oh my god, Satoru–” You’re gasping in the flowery night air, tummy aching with every pump deeper because he was just so close to where you wanted him. “More- j-just a bit more.”

And yet, he acts like he doesn’t even hear you right now. 

Cupping over one massive palm over his ear and drifting ever-closer, “Wha’s that? C-can’t hear ya, girl- ngh ya gotta be- louder.”

Louder and louder he was getting with the vulgarly fast thrust graced upon your gummy walls. The sound only makes him giggle all drunk on you, “What’s that? Here? That turn you on? Hmmm…”

And just when you’re letting your vision blur with stars- just when you think it couldn’t get any better-

“Mmmm– wan’ another taste-” 

It’s the last thing your ringing ears hear before Gojo’s lurching forwards and burying his nose into your sensitive clit to give your overstuffed entrance a leeengthy lick. Right at the very split-second the globular edges of his digits scratch at that magical spot. 

“W-woah.” Your head snaps up blearily to steal a glimpse at what had Gojo Satoru’s voice so airy n’ cracking in awe. 

Only to see him fluttering his lathered lashes, the slick-gleaming apples of his cheeks blushing. Like some maiden in love. “Got even wetter f’me, your highness.” He’s breathing out, spitting out another voluminous cobweb of drivel and watching the way it sliiides across with the ribbons of slick pouring out of you. “Ohhhh, even b-better than any candy- better than a-any dessert.”  

You yelp when one rugged and grabs a rough handful of your ass and latches his lips even sloppier against your hole. “T-Toru your arm!”

“Oh? This?” He’s glancing down at the bandages as if he’d forgotten they were ever there. “S’nothing for your- hah- personal knight. Doesn’t even hurt, I’d- I’d rather die than let a stupid injury get in the way of what I’ve been dreaming of for aaaages.”

The dual points of pleasure make your toes curl, every part of your body shaking-

Gojo was out of control now. Crazed.

High-pitched bouts of giggles escaping him, muffling around where his candy-glazed cerise lips were latched around your clit and sucking. He makes sure to hold fatal eye contact while he hollows out his scorching cheeks and drags the fleshy nub. 

 “M-making out with your pussy- your pretty, pretty pussy, my princess.” Your heartbeat echoes in rapid staccato with the vicious thud! thud! thud! of his neatly crowned fingertips pecking your g-spot. Each of his puffed-out gruffs making your tongue loosen in a please, “Making you s-so loud, making you feel so good.”

And without even realizing it, he’s rovering the papping brims of his fingers to give your clit a spank. Letting the syrupy beads slide allll the way down his tongue - letting you watch. 

“S’all me.” Gojo slurs out. “Me- me me me me–” Steady rivulets of slick bubbling from the edges of his tongue when his sinful motions get faster. Harder. “Gonna ask who m-made you feel this way n’ it’s me. Your Satoru.”

More ravenous. 

Swirling around slow probes of his sensory tips, it glazes his skin all the way down to his knobbly wrist in a thick coat of sap. Memorizing every gooey ridge and crevice inside your tight channel - shit, Gojo feels his ruddied tip spurt out a jetstream of buttery pre in his pants. 

He thinks he might just burst in his pants if you don’t finish right this second. 

But luckily - or unluckily - for him, you do. Right this very second, after being wrung dry underneath only a few more lapping slashes of his ferocious tongue, tweaking your buttony clit until you cum.

And oh, you’re so pretty when you do.

Your head throwing back with a broken moan of Toru–! It takes every ounce of trained will in his drunken body to not break off from your gooey pussy and watch the way your beautiful face twists. 

Fucked out.

“O-oh, shit–” You’re practically sobbing at this point, wrist aching with just how hard you were pushing Gojo’s readily used face into your fluttering core. Your vision blurs with sparks n’ stars, “-H-how are you so good. Unfair, unfair—”

Babbling away such nonsense with that smart mouth of yours, Gojo thinks he sees utter heaven when your hot juices flood inside his mouth in generous heaps.

Lugging down an open palm underneath his chin to greedily collect the leaking beads that sprinkly in a shiny sheen off of his chin, he finds himself moaning. “Shhh, your knight’s here. Give it t’me– use me, my princess.”

And use him you were. 

Riding out each white-hot peak of your high with slobbering grinds all across Gojo’s beautiful features. Your clit catches on the poking ridges of his mouth and nose and you squeal- “Ngh- b-better when you’re shut up like th-this, Satoru–”

Just for that, he’s spanking your goopy pussy thoroughly. 

All the way until those shots of electricity down your bowed spine are nothing more but prickly tingles, all the way until your thundering ears calm down and you can hear each damp thwack!

All the way until your high has bated and yet, Gojo is still snogging each swollen fold of your pussy like a feast. “M’sensitive–” You sniffle, and he doesn’t even seem to hear you. “Fuh-fuck, Toru, keep doing that n’ m’not gonna let you ngh fuck me.” 

That’s what finally gets his attention. 

You can feel your lips burst with a slight giggle when all it takes is a quick nanosecond for Gojo’s plumpened mouth to jerk away from your cunt with the snap! of wiry slick.

Scrambling onto unsteady feet, he’s teetering over the edge of the wood ever-so-slightly. Muscular body casting a shadow on yours, and you think he’s never looked sexier.

Fawny strands of frosty white curtaining Gojo’s half-lidded eyes, thick thighs pressing against yours shivering; and even from your position homed towards the end of the table, your eyes catch sight of such a massively outlined bulge. 

Staggering. 

One that made your hands ghost down Gojo’s tensed abs, and he’s throwing his perspiration-dampened head with a whine. 

“Need you, Satoru–” You’re managing out, strangled and messy. You’re sure you sound just as yearning as you feel. Fingers tug-tug-tugging impatiently on his gauzy clothes, “Want- you- out of these-” 

And whatever the princess wants, the princess gets. 

It’s as if on command - Gojo’s shedding his billowy shirt like it burned him. And very, very soon were his snug pants to follow, your layers, his sanity-

“Hngh- please.” He’s gruffing out, flinching just as soon as you cup his cheeks to smear away the remaining traces of slick glimmering on top of his blushing skin. Your touch was electric. Tonality painfully hoarse, “Let me fuck you- wanted it for so long. Let me fuck you please.”

Your drenched pussylips stream out a damp spot right across where you could feel his inflated vein poke between your folds. And he felt so…long. “Yes- yes, please.”

Getting the princess to say please?

He’s nodding his head shakily - Gojo could pass out, he could cu- 

Oh, just a few taps of his mushroom tip on the outer edges of your pussy and he spots something creamy topping over your mound like icing. Sweat-slicked brows furrowing, Gojo nudges in even closer to where pooling splotches of cum pours from the strawberry pink divot right in the middle of his head.

He’s cumming and he couldn’t stop. 

Couldn’t do anything but whine at the tender bolts of bliss aching all the way from his toes to his fuzzy head.

“S-Satoru did you just-”

“Shut up.” Oh, you would have his head later for this. “Shut up- shut up and just…”

N’ so he curls a hand at his bulky base and draws out a thick swab at the torrents of seed decorating your cute cunt. Making sure the milky sap formulated a glossy cap on his crownhead, before pushing rigorously in-

“F-f-fuuuuck–” he keens out, a thin line of sweat trekking down the side of his temples. And if he pushed just an inch further, Gojo could feel his hooded eyes well up with fucking tears- “Tight so tight s-sooo hot- so…”

You’re mewling, “Deeper- c-c’mon.”

He was fucking you like he didn’t even realize it - like he was enchanted by each mindless rut pulled from the carnal depths of his hips. 

Two warm hands latch on in a vice-like grip on the delicious curve of your hips, and he’s holding your body still and pushing and pushing and pushing-

“Sh-shit!” Gojo’s voice pitches up embarrassingly high at the end of his slew of swears, buttering up your insides in a muggy few ribbons of pre in response. “But s-so tight- dunno if it’ll even…even fit.”

He sounded hypnotized. 

“Are you- ngh! are you alright, Satoru?” You’re musing out, eyes glassy with a solid combination of lust and utter concern. Before you know it, your hand is reaching out to stroke the ba-dump–! thudding against his pecs.

“No.”

And it takes only the slightest graze of your doughy fingerpads against his flaming hot skin, the slightest touch from you before Gojo rudely swats your hand away and bottoms out-

You don’t even know what you were mad at- were you mad?

You really can’t even remember. Not when the crowned tip of Gojo’s incredible length was planting a sweet peck right into the sponged ends of your cervix, the entirety of his shaft spearheading you so deep that you think he might just be fucking into your lungs. 

So big that he didn’t even have to try to rub the puffy zig-zag of his veins along your sweetest spots, even the most minute gyrations made your toes curl. 

Splitting you apart. Stroking the weepy base of your slit with the hot, rounded sack of his breeder balls so right that it made you putty in his hands.

“Don’t t-touch me, my princess.” Gojo’s nuzzling his tear-stuck cheek against your own, you could feel the warble of his unsteady confessions. “Don’t touch me or I’ll…I’ll cum.”

And when has Gojo Satoru ever lied to you? Well, the upturned jolt of his split-ended tip right into the target of your mushy cervix told you that he wasn’t.

Gojo’s sinking down the edges of his teeth into his wobbly lower lip, he’s forcing his eyes to narrow down n’ obscure his crystal clear image of you to stop himself from cumming. 

“So beautiful, can’t help it–” His breath hitches once he’s pushing apart your trembly thighs and stretching them over the two ends of his broad shoulders. Your ankles pitching down onto the rippling plush of his toned deltoids. “So perfect.”

“S-sweet-talker.” You whisper, mouth as dry as the Sahara with how his thick circumference was stretching out your rubbery walls until they were seering. 

But if Gojo heard then he didn’t snap back - he was too pussydrunken to.

Moving on instinct, on that carnal twinge inside his brain that forced his powerful limbs to lock your ankles with one hand behind his head. To brace an engulfing palm right beside your head and lower himself down, down, down into a-

A mating press. 

Gojo Satoru had you in a fucking mating press.

“So mine.”

And he was pounding all his aching inches into you like it would be the last time. Like he was mazing through your adhesive-like walls and plummeting the leaky end of his cock to knock against your very womb. 

Gojo’s nose crinkles at the sheer warmth you were coating him in, dripping fresh slathers of slick in rings ‘round his hilt. He shivers as it drools down his tight balls, “I’m…I’m really fucking you- ngh! I’m fucking you, my princess.”

“Yes- yes yes yes—” Your mouth parts ajar, and you don’t know what it floods more with - your pathetic whines, or saliva. Coating a treacly river from each curl of your lips, “More. More, Toru.”

Oh.

You might have just broken him with that. 

Even through your fucked-out stupor, you’re gaping at the way that the hand beside your head curls into an unyielding fist. It has to.

Otherwise, Gojo’s plump cockhead would be sugarcoating your sloppy hole in much more than just copious amounts of sticky precum. He would’ve cum.

“M-more?” You hear from above you, your knight’s bulging pecs vibrating with the plea. Oh, was it a plea - strained, shaking. Gojo sounded as if he was two seconds away from simply bursting into crazed laughter, “More…more. My princess wants- fuck! More?”

Fat ends of his fingers lock around the sides of your cheeks and force you into such an unladylike pout. “Say it- say it, little royal.”

“Shit!” Your core arches up into his hardened one, just as Gojo knew it would when angling his hips juuust right to give your bulging g-spot a long, hard swipe. Your throbbing clit scratching against his pale happy trail. “Yes- ngh yes I want more. Want more, Satoru!”

More. 

And more was exactly what you were going to get. More than you could handle.

Your thighs ache with the struggle to stay open when Gojo tightens his lock around your ankles. Gruffing out a tight, “Take it then.”

He was so sexy, the swelling flex of his biceps enough to make your pussy drool and him slip n’ slide pliantly. Jackhammering away rugged pumps that you feel all the way in your leaden throat.

Your most favorite spots are so bruised that they’re almost tender, curling the base of your spine with tendrils of bliss that make you yelp.

“O-ohhh my god—” The side of his neck dampens as you’re leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that make the man pinning you down shiver. His sculpted abs twinging with every massage down your front, “Just like that, a-always wanted to fuck you, Toru–”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Gojo hiccups, the expression upon his features plain pained. Voice dipping into a whine, “Don’t know what y-you’re doing t’me.”

But now that you were babbling away, you couldn’t stop. Not even when he’s speeding up his vigorous cadence until the globes of your ass are left stinging, “M’serious– I always wanted-”

“Shut up shut up- shut up- my princess.” You don’t think that either of you were even lucid at this point, and every pap! of skin-on-skin is followed by the screeching creak of the table below you. Gojo rolls his eyes down at you fondly, “Gotta m-make you cum so you can shut up.”

Otherwise you were going to drive him wild until there’s no turning back.

Before you can let off a moan - or fervently agree - he thumbs over the perked hood of your clit. Drawing- circles? Hearts? No, his own name. 

A tedious little S-A-T-O-R-U that makes your gushing walls clench oh-so-tightly around his sweltering length. Tummy tightening into something so close to shattering. 

And Gojo was rough. Snickering at the way you whine, spilling out wadded volumes of spittle between your parted lips. He breathes, “Gonna make you cum- g-gonna make my princess cum.” You swear he nods down at your pussy and grins, “G-gotta be a good girl f’me, m’kay? Gonna be a good- girl- and…”

His hips slap sloppily against yours, overworked thumb stuttering on a swooping U over your sensitive nub. And the tension in the air pulls tight, tight, tight like the most delicate of strings, before crashing- “-cum.”

You don’t know who cums first - you or Gojo. 

All you know is that as soon as your mind explodes with bursts of bliss - his poor cock does, as well. 

Head toppling backwards, overfilled pussy slopping out waterfalls of sweet, sweet juices, it’s all you can do not to sob. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck-” Your nails rake red, red lines all down his expansive back. Pulling him in even closer until all he can manage are dirty lil’ half-thrusts to pound you through your high. “M’cumming, Toru-”

“Y-yeah?” Gojo’s stuttering wetly, sloppily. Pushing the fat battering of his fountaining orifice into the groove of your g-spot over n’ over n’ over. You didn’t know how anything could feel so good. “N’ who made you cum, hm? Who’s f-fucking this pretty pussy, hm?”

“You-” You’re prattling, “You, Satoru.”

“Fuck.” Gojo gapes in wide-eyed craze, breath hitching when you lean over to drag your tongue over the sappy trickle of drool escaping his rose-red lips. “G-gonna make me cum again, swear-”

And he does.

“Can- can we hold hands while I hck! fuck you through your high, my princess?” He bats his lashes, a delicate blush taking over the tips of Gojo’s ears when you lace your fingers together. 

You can feel the splat! of even more heavy seed hitting the bottom of your pussy, swashing a warm second coating to your elastic walls every time Gojo thrusts. He was so solidly inside. Pinpointing specks of pure white with each swab. 

So full. So much of his voluminous ounces that it’s taken to tipping over from between your pussylips and forming a creamy puddle below you. You’re slipping all over it with every slither of Gojo’s cock.

But neither of you can even think to bring yourselves to be disgusted. To care for etiquette. 

Because Gojo drifts his hand over an invisible line where your tummy was being bloated with his length and his cum- and you find yourself aching for more all over again. 

“This looks…” Gojo starts, syllables scratchy and jagged. He’s practically whimpering - whimpering - at the sight of that lecherous cylindrical bulge being fucked into you. 

You’re dripping with him, and his cock twitches ferally at the thought of you all round and glowing. What a pretty mama you’d make. “...looks like the n-next heir to the throne will be a Gojo, my princess.”

Oh, you liked the thought of that.

And looking at Gojo Satoru now - eyes still not fully focused with how ruined he was, skin blushed the same maidenly shade of red that his slobbering mushroom tip was, pretty smile directed at you and only you in this lilac-scented haze - you didn’t think you wanted it any other way.

But, of course, Gojo would never want it any other way, either. Never. 

He clears his throat, sapphire gaze hardening; the intensity of it sending chills sprinting down your spine. Burning with a fervent I love you I love you I love you.

Massive hands intertwined with yours pull into your line of vision, and Gojo takes his dear time pressing a lingering peck onto each n’ every single one of your knuckles. But particularly on the one above your left ring finger.

This was it. 

“My princess…run away with me?”

.

.

.

“Didya hear ‘bout that Prince Naoya?”

“Oh yes- had his bride stolen away by a knight, I hear. Put a knife to his throat n’ took her away in the dead of night!”

“Hogwash! The boy was a looker, she went quite willingly, see- I always did think that Naoya wasn’t good ‘nough for our princess.”

“Wonder what happened after? That Zenin bunch was quite furious I hear, that bratty prince is still out for blood. But ol’ Naobito and some commander came to the rescue- Somethin’ about corruption and Jinichi…”

“Bah! Who cares about that? S’the biggest royal affair of the century- a handsome knight sweeping away the beloved princess? They’re swoonin’ n’ calling him the Knight of Roses already. All I wanna know is how the young couple is doing!”

Yaga rolls his eyes at other rambunctious customers churning gossip-mill, a pint clutched tightly in one hand and a scrap of paper in the other. 

Honestly, he comes to the pub for once to escape from palace duties - and the palace duties seem to want to escape with him! 

And even after so many months since that engagement party fiasco? News really did trickle down slowly when royal scandals were so often covered.

Oh, whatever. He muses, thumb gliding over the glossy parchment- some new innovation from kingdoms beyond the sea, according to what the eagerly-accompanied writing had said. A…a photograph, you had called it.

And Gojo’s surprisingly intricate drawing of you fiddling with the ah- camera gave him an idea of the machinery, though- most of the sketches were of you. All of them, actually.

Yaga gazes on in slight wonderment at the perfect black and white depiction of your smile, rivalling the one of Gojo Satoru’s beside yours. Beaming, sleeves rolled up and fatigued with a day of hard work, so in love. 

It was oh-so-positively sweet.

The cherry on top? Well, Yaga couldn’t quite decide between the matching bands glinting on each of your left ring-fingers, the glimpse of a pretty lil’ cottage behind you two, and the massive bouquet of undoubtedly deep red roses Gojo was presenting you with.

Or perhaps it was the hand you were resting absent-mindedly on the obviously rounded curve of your tummy.

How fortunate, he tucks away the photograph into his coat with a smile and orders another pint. Knight of Roses, indeed. 

A/N. Yearning is my kink mhm. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

Gojo who...

—comes back from a mission only to get spoiled rotten by you, and it only makes him fall deeper in love with you.

He’d come home at a random 2:43 in the afternoon. Opening the door with a tired grunt, before dropping everything in the living room and making a bee line for the bedroom.

Gojo stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching as you organized all the shit on your dresser for the nth time since Gojo had left.

He just groaned and wrapped his arms around you from behind. Exhausted. His infinity down and his body completely melted against yours, almost as if trying to mold into you.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your neck, inhaling your scent— your scent that he hadn’t had around him for an entire seven and a half days. “missed you so much, pretty.”

You smiled, leaning against him. Your hands overlapped the tops of his as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Welcome home, handsome.” Tilting your face to the side, you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

Slowly, and reluctantly letting go, Gojo finally pulled away and immediately began to strip his clothes off. His back was tense, rigid with knots. “Baby?”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Because once he was just in a pair of grey sweats, and laid stomach down on the bed, you were climbing up with him.

Standing on the bed, you used the wall to help balance as you stepped onto Gojo’s back. You took little steps up and down his back, smiling and giggling when he’d groan like one of those Great Danes relaxing.

And by the time you finished walking on his back, you were quick to move to the bathroom to run him a bath. You wanted to spoil your boyfriend after his week long mission, and by golly you would do just that.

Running the water till it was steaming, you stopped up the drain so the water would stay in the tub before getting your tired lover.

“Toru, come on. A bath will feel good,” he knew you were right. You always were, but damn he just wanted to sleep. However, he let you tug him off the bed and guide him into the bathroom. Wear he slowly sunk into the hot water, hissing at the initial burn before sighing in relief as his body relaxed. All the tension leaving his body, as the scent of lavender epson salt and a vanilla cupcake candle lighting up in the corner— his favorite Yankee candle scent.

And to add onto the billion reasons he’s head over heels for you— your hands immediately begin to gently massage his scalp. Your nails raking from his hair line to the back of his head. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned back against your touch. “Love you so fucking much.” He mumbled, he couldn’t be more content and loved.

You smiled and leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead. “Love you more. Now just relax and let me take care of you.”

Your pampering of him didn’t stop there. No no, you would be spoiling him rotten. Because not only did you bath him, wash his hair, and do his skin care for him, but you fixed him dinner, AND gave him those little chocolates he said he wanted before he’d left for the mission.

“I’m going to impregnate you and lock you away so your mine forever.” Gojo mumbled as he tiredly ate the chocolates, a happy, dopey smile on his lips.

“I’m sure you’d try.” You snort, a grin taking on your lips as you push his back with your fingers.

“Mm…” Gojo just hummed in delight. “When you were cooking, I called and said I’d be m.i.a for a few weeks.” Gojo blurted out, your nails on his scalp were his biggest weakness.

Your grin stretched to an ecstatic smile, “wait really?”

“Yeah, so that means I’ll have you all to myself.” Gojo opened his eyes again, locking them with yours as his smile turned to a shit eating grin. “Your mine ‘n mine alone for the next three and a half weeks. Better get ready, pretty.”

“Why are you so clingy?”

—In which Gojo gets mad at you for being 'clingy' so you make him eat his words.

A/n: Somebody buy me a new cart mine is emptier than my tear ducts after crying so fucking hard writing this.

<<part two, part three, final part>>

“Hi baby!!” Smiling, you set your things down on the counter before coming over to him.

“Hi,” Gojo gave you a dry response, his eyes glued to the tv. He had a day off and honestly just spent it lying around.

Your brows furrowed at his dry tone, usually he’d be all over you. Maybe he was just having an off day. “How was your day?” You smiled at him anyway and plopped down on the couch beside him, “haven’t seen you all day.”

Gojo side eyed you for a second before looking away back to the tv. “It was fine.” Another dry response.

“Ummm… right, so do you wanna go and cuddle in bed? I literally missed you so m—“

“Can you not? Like you’re actually so clingy.” Gojo’s voice was sharp, and honestly really rude.

“…what do you mean…?” Sitting up a little more, you looked at him with a confused and hurt expression.

Gojo rolled his eyes and ran his hands over his face, “oh my fucking god- you always want to be around me and we’re always touching and god forbid I’m not around you for a fucking day. And when I’m on missions you’re always fucking texting me! Like I don’t get it, please just fuck off!”

The more he spoke the more he worked himself up, his voice raising as he snapped at you.

Your throat burned as tears threatened to spill, your hurt in your stomach as you listened to every word. “…oh.” Slowly, you nodded, “you’re right… that’s my bad.”

Getting up, you just left him in the living room and went into the bedroom. You sat on the bed and just stared at the wall. His words had been absorbed into your brain way too deep and suddenly you felt self conscious.

Were you really too clingy? Too loving and touching? Were you too much?

Swallowing thickly, you let out a shaky breath before getting dressed into one of your hoodies— which was weird in its own right because you always wore his clothes. Sliding on the hoodie, followed by a pair of leggings, fuzzy socks and shoes.

By the time Gojo was coming in, you had taken off your make up and tied your laces.

He eyed you weirdly before rolling his eyes, “don’t be pissed off. I just said the truth.”

Taking another shaky breath, you nodded, “Not upset. Just gonna head out, Nanami and his wife invited me over for a little get together.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ll get dres—“

“No don’t worry about it. You stay home and relax.” You quickly replied for leaving without another word— no kiss, no hug or anything.

Gojo nodded to himself and smiled, “alright, now I get more alone time.”

Gojo hadn’t seen you in a week, and he was craving your touch, your scent and everything. He just wanted to hold you and sink his face into your neck. Walking into your shared home, he paused when he saw you packing a suitcase.

“Oh hey, welcome home.” You said, albeit a little dryly.

“…yeah… where are you going? I just got home.” Gojo frowned, brows furrowed.

“I have a mission that’ll last me a week or so. You’ll be fine without me.” You numbly replied, before grabbing your suitcase and moving to eat.

“You don’t even wanna eat dinner with me?” Gojo felt his chest ache and his breath halt. Why were you being so cold?

“Don’t have time. See you later.” You merely waved at him, before heading out. Leaving Gojo standing there in shock, confusion and a growing sense of sadness.

“Okay..?” He mumbled before walking to the couch. Sitting down in the same spot he’d sat in that week prior when he’d snapped at you.

During your mission, he’d texted you maybe 40 times. He hardly got a reply, and when he did it was dry. You never answered his calls.

And what’s worse? By the time you got home he had to go off again. He didn’t even get to see you in between. He felt touch starved, pent up and hurt.

But finally, finally when his mission was over and he came home, he saw you relaxing on the couch on your phone.

He sighed in relief, “hey baby, I’m home.” His voice hopeful for the reaction you used to give him.

“Welcome home.” You didn’t even look up from your phone. Too busy doom scrolling on Instagram.

Gojo felt his nerves tick, why weren’t you giving him the same affection you used too? God damnit he missed you.

“What’s going on with you?” He glared at you now, and set his things down before walking closer and taking your phone out of your hands.

“What are you talking about?” You just stared up at him, as if your own heart wasn’t aching.

“You don’t talk to me— ever! You don’t text me, call me, hell I hardly ever see you!” His hands lifted in the air just before falling back at his sides.

“What the hell are you on about? I’m just doing what you told me to.” You rolled your eyes before getting up. But Gojo pulled you right back.

“What do you mean? I never told you to just act like a stranger!” Gojo had your wrist in a tight grip.

“Yes you did? Remember? ‘You’re so fucking clingy’ and ‘why can’t you just fuck off’.” You poorly mimicked him, giving him an unimpressed look.

Your words had his mouth immediately closing. His heart clenching once-a-fucking-gain. “I- I didn’t mean that… I just… needed some space for a few days.”

“No you don’t talk to me like that and expect me not react this way. You were a fucking asshole to me for no goddamn reason, so I’m just giving you what you asked for.” You yanked your wrist from his grip. “God just pick a fucking lane. What do you want?”

“I-I—“

“I-I- shut the fuck up. I’m tired of this shit. You’re always away on missions, and whenever I try to love you or talk to you you’d just shut me down.” She snapped at him. “I’m making you eat your own fucking words. Just so I can do this,” pushing your finger into his chest, “I’m breaking up with you. My shits already packed up.”

“Wait— now wait a fucking minute! You can’t just drop me like that! I made one mistake!” Gojo was quickly trying to back peddle. No way you were trying to break up with him. No fucking way. You were the one he was supposed to marry, grow old with and have kids with. This is not supposed to happen.

“Yeah? Should’ve thought about that before being a shitty boyfriend. Now get the hell out of my way.” You pushed past him and grabbed your keys. “Now you can finally be all alone. Just like you wanted.” You spat before slamming the door behind you.

Gojo was just left standing there, mouth agape as he stared at the place you just stood.

He couldn’t comprehend what the hell just happened. He had just lost you, in what felt like 60 fucking seconds.

Slowly, he sat down, the house deathly silent. He’d been with you for only five months. No way he had fucked up this early? He’d been trying to get with you for so long and he’d finally had you— and just like that?

Fuck.

The tears started flowing before he could stop them.

Before the acceptance could settle in, first there was denial. “She’ll be running back to me when she realizes how good she had it with me.” He huffed to himself and turned on some random show to distract himself.

But that pain in his chest didn’t go away. And if you never came back? That pain would never go away.

I know there's a poll but garden injuries 3 pleaassse it's so good 😭

coming soon

You dream they cheated on you

—In which you dream they cheated on you, and let them know... in your own way.

Jjk various; Gojo, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna

Larry Johnson who…

Refuses to let you out of bed once he has his arms wrapped around you. Back against the headboard, you between his legs with your back pressed against his chest.

You’d been moving around Larry’s apartments the entire day, cleaning every single room until it was spotless.

Larry couldn’t understand it, poor man just wanted to wrap you up in his arms, smoke a blunt and get cozy for a movie.

And it took all damn day to get you into bed with him. And when he had you with him, you wouldn’t be moving for the next four hours.

His long hair was tied into a messy bun, courtesy of you skitzing about his hair tickling your neck, and he rested his chin on your shoulder. Watching as you rolled a blunt with the manga flavored cigarillo shell you’d snagged from Sal earlier that day.

“I don’t think mango’s gonna taste good.” Larry mumbled, his breath fanning your neck.

“Hush now,” reaching behind you, you blindly touched at his face till you found his mouth, “it’ll taste amazing.”

It in fact did not. Larry coughed like it was his first time hitting a blunt and cringed. His nose wrinkling as he immediately handed it back to you. “Like I said, it doesn’t match.”

“I dunno what’s wrong with you, but this shit slaps. Thank you very much.” You just huffed, and took a deep drag before blowing it in his face.

“You are so lucky I’m in love with you.” Larry rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms tighter around you.

“You’re obsessed with me.” You grinned before paying attention to the show Larry had begged you to watch with him.

I'm in my Sally Face era for the billionth time 🤭

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something