Bring Back Clingy Guys

garden injuries part 3 when??? i loved the first two parts 😛

coming soon dw dw

So. I hated season 4 of umbrella academy. Especially Lila x five. But guys. When five is in love it’s so fucking cute. LIKE OH MY GOD. It’s the way he looks so soft around her or the strawberry scene. Let alone when he kissed her it was so slow and gentle and so damn genuine. And then when he smiled at her when he made her that bracelet.

Someone help me I am in LOVE w this man 😩😩😩

𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘥. 𝘖𝘯 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘋𝘢𝘺. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳??

Warning: insecurities, when Gojo’s tipsy he’s an asshole, yada yada I’m sad so your gonna be sad, extreme dieting + weightloss, not good communication, maybe apart two? Only if yall want one tho. This is kinda ass.

You and Gojo were at a dinner party with some of your friends. You were dress up all pretty in a nice dress and Gojo was looking great as usual.

Gojo, bless his heart and his weak little alcohol tolerance had taken a few too many sips of your wine and was a hit tipsy at this point.

You were laughing at a joke one of your close friends had said to you, and you look up at Gojo, only to see him staring at another woman across the hall. Yes she was gorgeous, soft perfect skin, short but thick hair, a stunning figure…

‘Oh god.’ Your heart dropped down to your stomach, chest tightening but you forced yourself to stay calm. This could be a misunderstanding.

“Hey baby, what are you looking at?” You sweetly smile and gently put your hand on his forearm.

“Man she’s gorgeous…, this reminds me, have you put on some weight?” Gojo looked down at you, his eyes a little glazed over from the wine.

You and your best friend just froze. Your stomach began to ache and your throat began to burn as you held back tears. That is not something any woman would want to fucking hear.

Clenching your jaw, you simply smile, albeit a little shakily, “a little bit. Sorry.” You murmur.

Gojo just sighed and looked back over at the woman.

That’s how that night went. You just standing by his side all night trying to not cry because all he did was stare at that woman.

Even she was getting a little creeped out and left.

So when you got home, you stared at yourself in front of the mirror. Wearing a pair of sleeping shorts, no top or bra on.

Your hands slowly slid over your stomach and gently squeezed your hips. You had an amazing figure, sure, you’d put on some weight but most of it just went to your ass and thighs. You’d thought you looked good, even Toji, the womanizer and brutally honest asshole said you looked fine as hell.

You went to bed beside Gojo but didn’t cuddle up against him, hell you hugged the edge. You didn’t want anyone to touch you, especially not after tonight’s events.

And you weren’t any better in the morning. Your heart ached and so did you insecurities. Hell new ones even began to peak back up.

In the morning, instead of walking around in your normal Gojo’s shirt + panties combo, you had a thick hoodie on and a pair of baggy sweats.

“Fuck, man I don’t know how you drink wine, my head is killing me.” Gojo groaned as he walked into the kitchen. “Wanna order breakfast?” He continued to speak as he reached into the fridge.

“Uh im not really hungry right now.” You awkwardly walked away from him. However as you sat down on the couch and stared at your feet, you decided, ‘maybe I should go to the gym. I’ve put on some happy weight, Gojo was right.’

So everyday at 3, you’d disappear. You did NOT want Gojo knowing you were going to the gym just because he made you feel insecure.

Along with going to the gym, you’d began to diet yourself pretty strictly. Strict enough to where you didn’t drink anything but water, and that included wine. Your favorite.

It was 3 o’clock, and on the dot you were at the door ready to leave. However, Gojo had stopped you this time. “Baby where are you going?”

“Uh, I have to run some errands.” Awkwardly you turned away from and grabbed your keys.

“I can come with you, we haven’t really hung out much… I mean we haven’t even binged a show w forever snacks in so long.” Gojo frowned, looking down at you with a glint of worry in his eyes.

“I’ve just been busy. You can have all the snacks you won’t tho babe, you look good no matter how much you eat.” You sighed through your nose, almost envious that he literally could eat anything and not get fat.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Gojo tried to grab your hips to pull you closer like he used to, but you pulled away.

“I have to get going Gojo.” And just like that, you left Gojo standing there confused as fuck wondering what happened. None the wiser that things he’d said previously was causing the relationship to slowly pull apart.

This carried on for a month or so. With strict workouts and diets, you dropped weight. A lot, surprisingly. But you still didn’t like how you looked. You wanted to look just like that woman from the party.

You wanted your boyfriend to only look at you, to think that you were perfect and not stare at other women, look at you, and then literally fucking sigh.

However, this had caused some strain on your relationship. You two hadn’t had sex in WEEKS. You were pent the fuck up, and he was definitely pent up.

Gojo is def the kind of guy that hates to jerk off because all he wants is to be inside you btw.

But along with sex, you two hardly had meals together. And when you did, he was really the only one eating. You’d always always ALWAYS eat before. You didn’t want to tell him why you were doing this and what you were doing it for.

But Gojo was tired of this and he missed his girlfriend.

You were almost out the door once again, at exactly 3 o’clock. But Gojo was quick to block you from the door and lean against it so you couldn’t open it.

“Wha- babe what are you doing? I have to go.” You looked at your boyfriend confused. Your normal clothes looked a little baggy on you now with the weight loss.

“Where are you going?” His voice was little more stern. His face serious as he stared down at you.

“Out for—“

“For errands? Yeah right. You leave and don’t bring anything back. So let me ask again, what are doing when you leave?” He crossed his arms, his gaze turning to a glare.

“It doesn’t fucking concern you, now please move.” You were getting frustrated. You were missing your appointment with the trainer you’d hired recently.

“No. Are you cheating on me?” Gojo demanded. His own chest aching and his throat burning. What would he even do if you said yes? Self destruct? Most definitely.

“What? No! Your insane. Babe, I love you, but I have to go or I’ll be late.” You tried to move past him but he was not having it. Especially not when your phone rang and you quickly tried to silence it. Gojo was quick to snatch it from you tho and answer it.

“Who the fuck is this?” He glared at you the whole time he spoke, his knuckles white with how tight his grip was on the device. You were scared he might even break it.

“This is the trainer from **** gym. I was calling to ask when (y/n) would be here. She is ten minutes late, just wanted to make sure she was on her way.” The man spoke from the other line.

Gojo’s angry expression turned to one that was confused. “The gym? You’re her trainer— this doesn’t matter. She’s not going to make it today. Bye.” He was quick to hang up and put your phone on the counter before looking at you. “Since when did you work out? And since when did you have a trainer?”

“Why does it matter?” You glared at Gojo, feeling embarrassed.

“Because we haven’t hung out like we used to in forever! You don’t eat with me, we don’t have sex— which is fine! You don’t let me hold you in bed, and you won’t tell me why! What did I do?” Gojo begged, his brows furrowed as he gently grabbed your hands in his.

“— and not only that, but baby you’ve been losing a lot of weight too- I just don’t understand why your changing these things. Please just explain it to me.”

“You-…” you just sighed before pulling away from Gojo and sitting on the couch. “Do you remember when we went to that party a few weeks back?”

“You mean the one from a month ago? I mean yeah I guess, I was pretty tipsy.” Gojo shrugged before sitting on the sofa across from you.

“Yeah… do you remember what you said?” You awkwardly try to jog his memory. You felt so uncomfortable. But this was weighing on you and seeing how desperate Gojo was made your heart ache.

“I—…” Gojo paused, his memory slowly coming to him.

“𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵?” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘮.

“𝘔𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴…, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?” 𝘎𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘦.

Gojo’s face went pale. He stared at you for so long, long enough that you finally had to say something.

“Are you okay? Did- did you remember the woman?” Your heart broke a little more thinking that he had that expression because he remembered that gorgeous woman. Maybe he regretted not getting her number? Was he regretting your relationship? “Look, I need to go…” you murmured and got up, feeling dejected, rejected and so sick.

And even as you walked away, Gojo didn’t say anything. It was only until you’d even left that he blinked and started to say something, “baby, im so sorry- baby?” Standing up quickly, he looked around, only to notice your absence.

“Fuck!”

Should I do a part two? Idk I’m just sad rn. Y’all I want me a boyfriend- hell even a gf so baddd IM LONELYY 😭

I’m like a bird that just got hit with ecctricify and then was thrown in water. I LOVE THIS ONFGGGGGGGGG

Please don’t die writer, I love your writing and your brain <3

a knock on your boyfriend, bakugo’s door of his dorm room causes a groan to escape his lips, unwrapping his arms from you where you were both previously cuddled up while watching a movie on your laptop.

“who’s that?”, you ask, still laid up in his bed as you watch him get up while marching to his door with pure attitude.

“probably them damn extras again.”, he complains with a grumble, opening his door to find kaminari, kirishima and sero stood there with large smiles on their faces.

“what’s with your goofy faces? and why are you knocking on my door at 10pm?”, he questions, a scowl plastered on his face.

“we were wondering if you wanted to come play this new game with us?”, kirishima asks, holding up a video game you know your boyfriend has been wanting to try out for a while now.

he leans against the doorframe, “well, i’m with my girlfriend right now.”

“yeah but you’ve wanted to play this for a while, right? i’m sure she’ll be fine with it.”, kaminari reasons, sero nodding along with him.

letting out the biggest sigh he could, bakugo replies, “yeah whatever, let me ask her.”, shutting his door halfway so the boys couldn’t see bakugo’s little act he was about to pull off.

“you can go if you want, i don’t mind.” you say softly, turning your head away from the movie you were just watching. you really didn’t mind if he wanted to hang out with his friends since he spent majority of his time with you anyway.

he frowns at your response, mouthing a ‘be quiet’ before opening the door once again after a minute or so, seeing their anticipated smiles.

“yeah she said no.”, bakugo shrugs through his lie nonchalantly, causing you to whip your head back around at him while furrowing your brows.

was this man trying to make his friends hate you?

“well, do you really need to be asking your girlfriend for permission, dude? seems kinda toxic..”, kaminari starts, scratching the back of his head with an awkward look on his face.

“are you questioning her?”, bakugo questions, his voice slightly raised as he holds his usual angry face when anyone mentions anything he doesn’t like about you.

he’s always been protective like that. although, you do wonder if that’s the reason why most of the boys seem a little too cautious around you and always refuse to train with you. bakugo always tells you not to worry about it.

“nah, course not, bro. we’ll play another time it’s fine.”, kirishima steps in, holding his hands up while giving a light hearted laugh, trying to cool bakugo’s behaviour.

“yeah, yeah, fine. whatever.”, bakugo rolls his eyes, shooing off his friends before turning back to you, the angered expression he once had completely wiped off.

his sight finally falls back onto you as he walks back over and getting comfortable in his bed again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest as he interlocks his legs with yours.

if anyone saw the position bakugo was in now, they wouldn’t believe their eyes. angry, aggressive bakugo laid up with a girl, holding onto her so gently as he kisses her forehead, watching some bullshit movie you know he has no interest in watching, and all for his sweet little girlfriend who everyone now seems to think holds him hostage so he can’t hang out with his boys.

and all because he simply just wants to spend all his time with his girlfriend.

“you’re such a lover boy.”, you smile at him, knowing how embarrassed he gets when you say things like this.

“shut up.”, he grumbles, partly hiding his face in the covers as he continues watching the movie with you, back where he wanted to be.

he knows you’re right. you have this man absolutely whipped for you and he couldn’t even care less about it.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

“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.

Thinking about…

Gojo has been gone on missions and such for a while. Only time he comes home is to sleep or get patched up by you so he could spend time with you. But you get tired of his absence and…

Context: Gojo is gone for weeks at a time. You’re lonely. You decide to break up with him and leave.

Warnings: angst, reader is alone a lot, brief mention of Mad Men, break ups, possessive Gojo, he a lil crazy bout you, almost car wreck??, hurt w comfort, good ending.

Wc: 1,557

A/n: it’s not as sad or wild as it seems I think. Also mad men is a dope show, but all the men in the show fucking suck?? Also. How do I make the title all colorful but like gradient like? Those are dope.

Breaking up with Gojo was not easy. You loved him so much, and he was the man you wanted to marry, spend your life with, have kids with and everything. But he was always gone now a days. Always.

For weeks, days, he was gone for three weeks last time. It was all too much. You missed him, and were tired of feeling alone.

It was lonely in his house. Always wearing his clothes because it smelt like him, burying your face in his pillow. It was all you really had.

You knew dating the world’s strongest wouldn’t be easy. But it was starting to feel impossible. You missed him so much, and half the time he didn’t even respond to your messages. Too busy for you.

You missed your job, and having to deal with shitty, annoying strangers, messy coworkers, and getting off late. At least you were busy then. Back in the earlier stages of your relationship, Gojo had begged you to quit your job so you could be with him more. He kept going on and on about how he could easily provide for the two of you, and it wouldn’t leave a dent in his bank account.

At first it was fine, amazing even, not having to work. Or get up early, stay late, deal with shit that made your mind ache. But you didn’t think about if Gojo wasn’t there.

All of the loneliness and angst that was building up in the empty space that was your and your lovers home was beginning to turn to anger. Anger and so many other negative emotions that Gojo promised you wouldn’t be feeling with him.

So after an entire pizza, a season of Mad Men, and a cup of chocolate milk, you decided it was time. It was time to leave because you were losing your damn mind, worrying constantly about Gojo, the loneliness, the having legit nothing to fucking do.

So, you began packing your things. You grabbed your clothes, your plushies, your shoes, your make up, face and hair products, even the little shit. You made sure everything that was yours was gone from his house, and packed in your car.

Glancing around, just to be petty, you deleted your Netflix profile. Gojo loved to use yours instead of his own, only god knows why. Meaning all his progress on the unfinished shows were gone.

With a huff, you wrote a note. Simply stating you were tired of being alone and feeling alone in this relationship. Ending it with an i love you, and hope you do well in the future.

And like that, you got in your car and began to drive.

Half an hour later, the front door to the house opens. “Baby I’m home.” Gojo called out, sounding tired and pretty damn drained. “You will not believe how much I fucking missed you.” He sighed, and put down the pizza he’d gotten on the way home for you both on the counter.

“Baby?” Gojo looked around, and noticed how much shit was missing. How much of you was missing. “Babe come out, I’m too tired for this, just wanna hug you.” Followed by silence.

Gojo glared at nothing in particular and huffed. Quickly, he walked into your and his bedroom, and paused. All of your stuff was gone. And there was a note on the bed.

Anger and frustration was replaced by a deep sense of fear and anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, he picked up the note. And oh, he never knew how much a few words on a sheet of paper could hurt so much.

It wasn’t just mental pain, it was physical pain. Pain that had him grabbing his chest to try and stop it. Swallowing thickly, he quickly looked at his phone, and saw that you still had your location on.

“…fuck this.” Sadness and loss turned to anger and possessiveness. “Yeah fuck this shit.”

He worked too damn hard, and spent too much time dealing with curses, elders, people in general, for the one source of his happiness to be gone.

So, he got in his car, and immediately skidded out of the driveway. No doubt breaking every damn traffic law, speeding to reach your car.

Tears ran freely down your cheeks, cliche sad music played from your stereo, a sonic blast sat in your cup holder as you ate cheese sticks and drove the car with your knee.

You felt pathetic. All these nasty thoughts nipped at your mind. You had no idea Gojo had even came back to the house. You’d expected it’d take him a few more days.

But you were NOT expecting, was a very familiar car racing up to yours and cutting in front of you, only to hit the breaks making you gasp and slam on your breaks.

You had to swerve off the road and into some empty parking lot. Eyes wide, heart racing, you noticed the other car pull in as well. Quickly getting out, you were fuming. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Are you fucking cr-“

The front door slammed open, revealing none other than your boyfriend, or ex boyfriend rather. He looked pissed. Angrier than you’d ever seen him.

“Gojo-“ you tried to get the words out, but he’d backed you against your car roughly. Pinning you there and glaring down at you, blindfold hanging around his neck.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He snapped, voice low. “A fucking letter? Are you serious?”

You swallowed thickly, looking up at him with wide eyes. Your heart jumped at the sight of him. Not injured, and safe from his mission but oh so furious. “…why- how did you find me?” You whispered, your voice breaking despite trying to sound more confident.

“You left your location on.” He spoke blankly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Why. Fucking explain it to me like I’m five.” Gojo’s head ducked down a bit, forcing you to keep eye contact with him.

“I-I-“ The words refused to leave. Your brows furrowed as tears began to boil up. Why was it so hard to say it when it was so easy to write it? “Y-you- I- I’m tired of being… alone. You’re always gone, always. And I’m left to worry about you.” However the more you spoke, the more those past angry feelings rose up. “You told me to quit my job for you and I did! Only for you to just leave all the fucking time! You don’t even respond half the time, and when you with me you’re always exhausted or hurt!”

Gojo felt himself pause. Sure, what you were saying was on the letter, but he didn’t process it. All he really noticed was ‘breaking up’ and ‘have a happy life.’ So hearing this from you had him pull back slightly.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, didn’t mean to make you feel alone. Gojo Satoru only thought about you when he was away, and only ever really spoke about you. He loved you, and to hear you felt like this… well… it didn’t change much.

You were still his. Yeah, his chest hurt knowing he’d hurt you. But he was not letting you walk out of his life like that. No fuck that.

“I’m sorry.” His expression softened and his hands moved to cup your cheeks. “I’m so so so sorry. I didn’t realize I was leaving you alone like that. Baby believe me, all I think about is you. Every breath I take is so I can come home to you.” His forehead pressed against yours.

Your breath was shaky as you quieted down, eyes closing as his forehead pressed against yours. God, all that anger and resentment was gone just like that. It made you want to be more angry, but you just couldn’t.

Not when he was talking so sweetly to you, body pressed against yours. You’d missed him so much, and this was the first time in a while that you two really talked. Like really talked.

“Come home. I’ll take off work. The elders can go fuck themselves and send someone else to do their shit.” He murmured, lifting his head and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Don’t leave me, please… I’ll do better, I can’t lose you.”

Your heart melted at his words and you felt yourself swoon. However, before you could even say yea, he’d picked up and thrown you over his shoulder. “Oh my god- Gojo!”

“Ah.” He huffed, and landed a harsh slap to your ass. His hand rubbed over the area he slapped however to soothe the sting. “That is not what you call me. Go on, what do you call me sweet girl?”

You felt your cheeks burn red, eyes a little wide. “Satoru…”

“Good girl.” He praised with a grin.

“Wait- hey! I didn’t say I’d come back damn it!” You squirmed in his grasp, trying to get down. He however had other plans.

“You think you ever had the choice? That’s cute babe.” He smiled, his hand moving from rubbing gently to squeezing. “You are mine, and so is this ass.”

Your relationship was by no means perfect, but he loved you. Of course, he had never planned to let you go, even if you wanted to leave. :)

Guys this was bad. Omfg I got so lost in this- but why not post it??😟…

𝘎𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜.𝘚 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘭 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘳.

(Idk wtf this is don’t come for me)

First time Gojo had ever been to the United States, he went to Oklahoma. The culture was a huge difference, and it definitely shocked him.

However, it wasn’t until he went to a rodeo did he truly realize that this was a 100% different world.

And that was when he saw you. Hair curled, cowboy hat on, button up shirt, blue jeans a buckle from your last win in the rodeo. You were gorgeous.

You’d been tacking up your gelding, a pretty bay American Quarter horse. Humming along with the music that played with the loud speakers. Grabbing onto a chunk of the horses mane, you put your foot in the stirrup before hoisting yourself up.

“Atta boy.” Lord did you have one hell of an accent.

It near about had him weak at the knees. He had to meet you. Had to.

However, when he went to go walk up, the announcer was calling your name and you were lining up at the gate. Your gelding’s ears were forward and head up, a fast working walk as he made his way to the entrance.

Gojo was in his seat as quickly as possible. Eyes wide and curious as he watched you and your horse shoot out, both hands on the reigns up on his neck to give him more room to move.

You had a winning time, a huge smile on your face as you rubbed your horses neck and received your buckle. Putting your belt on the saddle, you guided your gelding back to the trailer and began to untack him.

That was until a tall man with some crazy ass blue eyes walked up behind you.

“Uhhh…nice horse?” Gojo grinned, for once not sure how to A) flirt with you, and B) fucking approach you.

Blinking up at him, your brows furrowed, “you sure as shit ain’t from ‘round here.” Eyeing him up and down, before looking back to your horse, “thanks tho.”

Gojo smiled when you accept his compliment, before leaning against the trailer beside you. “Sooo, you come here often?”

You could only give him an unimpressed look, “I live five minuets away.”

“Well that’s uh- convenient.” He looked over to your house before watching as you began to wipe down your horses legs.

“Can I help you with somethin’? You know most people stay in the stands to watch the rest of rodeo.” You slipped on your horses rope halter and tied it to the trailer, before moving to get the hay bag ready.

“Right yeah- yeah… uh wanna go get drinks? Sake maybe?” He rose a brow, praying to god he got the drink right or maybe that y’all had that in America.

“The fuck is that?” You gave him an odd look, “But yeah, I’m down for drinks. It’ll have to be a little later tho.” Looking away again to finish tending to your gelding.

“How about tomorrow night? Drinks on me?” He looked at you eagerly, and only smiled when you sighed and wrote your number on his palm.

“Sure. As long as your payin’ for my shots.” You shrugged, “what’s your name tho?”

“Gojo Satoru.”

You just stared at him, “definitely not from around here.” You murmured, “I’m y/n. Y/l/n.”

“Pretty name for a pretty woman. Hey can I touch your belt—“

“Hell no. I’ll call you tomorrow.” You waved him off before disappearing into your trailer to grab another hay bag.

Gojo just smiled before walking back to the stands. He quickly took a picture of his hand so he wouldn’t forget it or rub it off.

He was definitely excited for tomorrow.

Yall idk what this is. But it’s what it is 😭I was just thinking about his pale ass going to a rodeo for the first time. Idk but I rlly wanna make another one of these but barrel racer you is like batshit crazy (they all are, respectfully) when someone pops your trailer tires or some shit.

Also what does huzz mean???

You loved him. But he threw it away.

Tw: I cried writing this, Angst angst and more angst, Cheating, Break up, Alcohol, Betrayal, short blurb, bad living situations/financial problems mentioned.

Song: crawling back to you - hozier cover.

You adored him. Everything about him. Your eyes were so full of love when you looked at him. Always that some, head over heels, puppy love, doe-eyed look. You gave him everything.

Gojo looked down at you, and you were just staring at him, admiring him, adoring him. He was your everything.

“Something on my face?” He’d smile, that cute little grin on his lips that you adored.

“You’re so perfect.” You’d whisper so softly it would take Gojo’s breath away. That look of love had his heart skipping a beat and his knees growing weak.

You two were at a party. You were dressed in a cute little outfit, and had been sipping on the same beer all night. Gojo however was about four shots deep. He was definitely more than tipsy.

But he’d always return to you, giggling like a love sick fool, wrapping his arms around you like you were his life line.

However, tonight was different.

You couldn’t find him.

Where was he?

You’d pour your drink out and throw it away, before asking around for him.

You started from the front of the house, all the way to the back.

“Have you seen my boyfriend? Gojo?” You would gently tap on people’s shoulders. Feeling an uneasy feeling settle in the pit of your stomach the longer you couldn’t find him.

You finally stopped asking around and just began opening doors. The bathroom? Had two strangers making out. A bedroom? Someone was throwing up all over the duvet.

However, it wasn’t until you made it to the last door. Without hesitation, you opened it. But your heart shattered the moment your eyes landed on the bed.

Gojo had some stranger riding him.

That wasn’t even the worst part, because when he looked over at you, it was like he didn’t recognize you. His eyes were so fogged by lust and alcohol, that he thought you were some stranger.

“We’re kinda busy. Unless you wanted to join? You have a nice enough body.” He’d wink at you, before turning his attention back to the woman riding him.

Tears were rolling down your face before you could stop them. Your breath was stuttered. Throat tight and mouth dry.

Slowly, stiffly turning away, you began to walk out of that house. Step by step, your heart breaking.

You loved him. You loved him so much it hurt. So much so that you never even imagined that he could do this. You loved him so hard that his actions left your heart cracked and in ruin.

You walked home that night. Feet sore and cracked, bleeding a bit around the heel from how far you walked.

But when you made it home, you just sat down and stared at the wall. You didn’t make a sound, you couldn’t. You were in denial. But what followed denial was a sadness you weren’t ready for. It was the kind of sadness that left you empty.

White lashes fluttered open and groan heaved past his lips. Gojo sat up slowly, holding his head. “Fuck I’m hung over… baby?” Feeling to his left, he felt his hand touch someone. But when he looked over, it wasn’t you. It was some stranger.

He inhaled sharply and immediately shot out of bed. Tripping over his feet as he got dressed. He’d never moved so fast in his life.

Scrambling out the door, he called an uber. And when the car parked, he rushed into your shared home.

He saw you on the couch, still awake. Your eyes were red and your face was puffy, you looked exhausted but your face was empty.

But when you looked at him, he crumbled.

Your look of love and complete and utter adoration, was gone. Replaced by something that knocked the air from his chest and had him swallowing thickly.

“Y/n- I-I-“ he knew you knew. How could you not when you looked at him with such sorrow? Such pain? Such betrayal? “It’s- it’s not what it seems like.”

You just stared at him. That ache in your chest was heavy. So heavy it was hard to look away. “Have a nice night?” You mumbled, your voice hoarse from crying so hard the night before.

Gojo’s brows furrowed and his eyes grew glassy. That feeling of guilt began to swallow him whole. The guilt that made his limbs heavy and his eyes burn. “Baby- please,” he begged. He didn’t know what for. Forgiveness? For you to just be angry at him? To yell and to scream instead of looking at him like he just destroyed your hopes and dreams. And he had.

Slowly, you stood up. “I hope it was worth it,” you murmured before grabbing your phone and leaving the house. Not looking back as you left Gojo to hold onto his chest to try and calm the pain.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean for this- I- I was drunk I-“ he spoke to himself. But even his own words felt alien to his ears.

He’d ruined 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. Just for moments of pleasure. He threw away your relationship, your love, your future… and he couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

So in your shared home, he’d never felt more alone. Clarity brought pain, pain that he was to blame. Of course he was. His own inner voice mocked him. His nails dug into his knees as began to cry. To mourn his own mistakes, to mourn the loss of you.

He’d ruined everything.

But he wouldn’t let this be the end.

He could fix this.

Couldn’t he?

It’d been two months since his betrayal. Two months since you’d left him standing there. Two months since you took your belongings and left your shared home.

Two months since he’d seen you.

His mistakes had left him broken. But he knew he could only blame himself. It didn’t hurt any less.

You’d left behind a hoodie, and it smelled like you still do this day. Gojo made sure to spray your perfume on his pillows so they’d still smell like you.

Your eyes hung low. You were tired. Exhausted. You’d had to get a job as a waitress to pick up the income that Gojo’s absence left you without.

You were working exhaustingly long shifts. Picking up doubles when you could. Having almost no off days.

You’d lost weight. You didn’t look well. You were worked to the bone, but you didn’t have time to apply for a better job. Rent was so expensive, even in the shitty neighborhood you now lived in.

Retying your apron, you grabbed a pen before heading to a new table. Not yet looking up, you greeted the guest. “Welcome to Joseph’s boil, how can I hel-…” your words fell on the tip of your tongue as you saw him.

He was just as shocked as you. His shock turned to worry and concern. He’d never seen you in such poor condition. Was it possible for someone to look the way you did in just two months?

His heart ached but rejoiced as he finally was able to see you again. To hear your voice. To inhale your scent.

“Y/n?” He said your name so softly.

His voice broke the flood gates. Your hands had started shaking and your bottom lip quivered. Your pretty eyes turned glassy with so much emotion not even the finest author could put it into words.

Slamming down your apron, you quickly fled the restaurant. Despite the heavy rain or the fact that you were getting soaked.

“Wait!” Gojo got up from his seat, the chair falling back with an ear piercing screech.

He ran after you. His shirt sticking to his form as water drenched him just as much as it drenched you.

“Leave me alone!” You yelled, your voice pathetically shaky. You choked on your words as you cried and tried to speed off.

“No! Please- please just wait!” He managed to catch up and grab you by the wrist and pull you back in.

“Get off of me!” You yelled, and tried to yank yourself out of his grip but he wrapped his arms around you and you held you against him. Even as you pounded your fists against his chest. “I hate you! I hate you so much!”

Your words pierced his heart, your tears felt like acid on his skin but he held you close. Held you even when your body just went limp against him.

“I hate you…” you’d whimper into his chest, sobbing as everything came crushing down on you at once. “How could you do this to me?! Why?!”

“I don’t know. Im so sorry,” was all he could whisper.

And at the end of the day, even when you were just holding each other in the rain, nothing could repair the pain he left forever in your heart. The insecurity and trust issues he planted in your soul. Nothing would ever fix what he broke.

Pheromone Spray; G.S

-In which you listen to Nanami's wife and order a pheromone spray that was supposed to make your husband go feral. Only, things didn't go exactly to plan.

A/n: This will be rewritten soon.

Pulling you hair up in a bun and sliding on your reading glasses, you sat on the floor in your guest bedroom closet as you scrolled on your laptop.

You’d gone out for coffee with Nanami’s wife yesterday. And she’d been going on and on about this perfume that had her husband, yes even the saint that was Nanami, acting like a man starved.

So of course, you were intrigued. Because for as long as you knew Nanami, he was a gentleman. So if that perfume worked that well, what would happen if she tried it on Gojo?

You’d tried a few different websites to find that specific perfume that Nanami’s wife used, but it was proving more and more difficult.

Finally, however, you’d seen it on a website buried amongst the others. And all they sold was this perfume, special lube and horny edibles. So of course you bought them all, using your own card that is. The total ended up being $263.35. Which, in hindsight, was way expensive and just about drained your account of all the money you had on there, but that was fine as long as Gojo didn’t look.

Sighing, you finally closed your laptop and took off your reading glasses before pulling yourself out of the closet.

Finally stepping out of the guest bedroom, Gojo, bless his heart, had been trying to find you for near about an hour. You’d convinced him to play hide and seek with you, and this was the perfect excuse.

“Found you!” Gojo tried to be slick as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Not too good at this game are you?” Acting as if he wasn’t stress sweating from how hard he was looking.

Rolling your eyes, you just smiled. “Of course, yeah. I’m terrible at it.” Your smile turned to a shit eating grin as you looked away.

“Hey, I checked your bank funds and it says you spent about $100 on The Sims?” Gojo had a teasing grin on his lips as you immediately pulled away, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Shut up,” you groaned, “I needed to get some more outfits but the patreon cost money and then I went down this rabbit hole.”

“Oh baby. Poor sweet baby. Of course you’d fall for shit like that.” Gojo sighed and pet your head, only for you to bite him. “Ow! If you wanted to fuck just say that!” He whined.

A month, a whole fucking month later, the package finally came in. And the packaging was pleasantly discrete.

You’d never yanked a package from the front porch so fast, immediately racing into your secret hideout, the guest bedroom, you locked the door, then ripped open the packaging. Smiling as you sniffed the perfume, it didn’t smell bad at all, it really smelled like your usual body mist you used.

Quickly, you spritzed it on, using probably way too much but you really wanted to see it work.

Grabbing the box, you hid it under the bed but paused when you heard the front door open and close. Shit. You’d forgotten Gojo had to go into the office.

But wait. This was perfect. You could try it out on him there. And if it did work, well, you could just giggle while Gojo struggled.

Immediately, you grabbed your keys and hopped into your car. Breaking a few traffic laws on the way there. You were just so excited. You loved watching the infamous Gojo Satoru, your finance, struggle. It just made you laugh every time. For example, you’d worn the Mean Girl’s Christmas outfit for Halloween last year, and refused to let Gojo touch you. So he was forced to rock a boner the entire way to the party, the whole party, and the way home. Of course when you got home he fucked you as hard as he possibly fucking could.

Walking into the office, you made a bee line for Gojo’s office. You didn’t notice other men at the office watching you. You had tunnel vision.

On the way there you had grabbed one of those bagels Gojo adored as an excuse to be there. Walking into his office, you smiled innocently. “Hey baby, you forgot to eat breakfast.” Setting down the little bag on his desk, you stood behind it, leaning back on it as you faced him.

Gojo smiled brightly, “Oh my god I’ll combust I love you so fucking much.” He near about moaned when he smelt the bagel. “I love you, I love you, I love you— is that a new perfume?” His eyes immediately locked onto your neck before glancing back up at you.

“Ummm, yes! Nanami’s wife gave it to me.” You laughed a little nervously, before tilting your head, “you like it?”

“Yeah you smell really good.” Gojo stood up from his chair, his hands leaning on the wood of the desk on either side of you as he pressed his face into your neck. “Really good.”

“Yeah? That good huh?” You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling his nose press against your neck like he was getting his fix or some shit.

“Fuck. Too good.” Gojo groaned, his pants growing tighter as a boner formed in his pants. His heart racing and his mouth growing dry.

One hand moved from the desk to grip your hip, bringing you flush against his body. “Shit,” he groaned into your neck, before pulling his face away and staring down at you.

About to say something, the door swung open to his office, and Nanami’s wife appeared. She paused, before smelling perfume and giggled. “You got it! Oh my god!”

Nanami appeared behind her, an amused look in his eye as he watched Gojo be in the same predicament as he was not even a week prior.

“I believe the ladies would like to go out for lunch. You have some paper work to fill out.” Nanami gave Gojo a stern look.

Gojo didn’t take his eyes off you before forcibly prying them away and looking at Nanami, “oh come on, my finance is here to see me.”

You grinned before pressing a kiss to his jaw sweetly, all while your hand teasingly trailing over his bulge.

Gojo had to muffle a groan, “y-you—“

“I love you baby, I’ll see you at home okay?” You winked at him before walking out with Nanami’s wife, giggling like school girls.

“What the fuck.” Gojo sat down with a grunt, his brows furrowed in frustration as he started down at the bulge in his pants.

“I tried to tell her it wasn’t a good idea to tell your fiancé.” Nanami sighed, about to turn around to head back to his own office before Gojo stopped him.

“Wait what do you mean? Tell her what?” Gojo eyed Nanami suspiciously.

“The pheromone perfume? My wife pulled that ridiculous prank on me last week. While I’ll admit, she did it at home so it wasn’t really a problem.” He pulled at his collar slightly as he remembered the hours he spent ‘reminding’ his wife about what he thought of her pranks. He fucked her all night and took off work the next day to use the perfume again.

“You’re joking.” Gojo stared at him, his jaw clenched. “And she’s just gonna leave me like this?”

Immediately, he pulled out his phone to look at her bank account, noticing that she only had $1.22 left and that she’d spent $263.35 on that fucking perfume. “Well shit.” Pulling out his phone, he immediately sent the text that he’d be waiting for her at home, and that’d he’d needed to come early due to ‘being sick’.

“He loved it! Loveddddd it!!!” You smiled widely as you spoke with Nanami’s wife, all giggles and smiles when you got that text. “Wait, shit. He said he’s not feeling good, do you think he’s sick from it?”

Immediately your face dropped, “can that happen?” Looking over at your friend, concern written all over it.

“It didn’t happen with me and Ken, but I don’t know. Gojo may be allergic to it?” She frowned.

“Here, I need to head home. Can I pay you back for the lunch tomorrow?”

“Nonsense. I got you into this mess. Go make sure he’s okay, I know you’re worried.” Nanami’s wife shooed you off and you were thankful as you rushed home.

Walking inside, you looked around and noticed all the lights were off. “Baby? I’m home. You said you weren’t feeling well, what’s wrong?” Turning on the light, you walk into the kitchen not noticing Gojo, who was in nothing but a pair of grey sweats. The outline of his painful looking boner showing through the fabric.

“Welcome home.” He wrapped his arms around you from behind, glaring down at you, “your little perfume prank today was not very funny.” He huffed.

“Wha-“ You paused, “wait. How did you find out about it?”

“Nanami.” Gojo pressed a kiss to your shoulder, all the way up your neck before biting down hard on your shoulder making you gasp. “Fuck you still smell so good.”

“You can’t blame me, the way she said it drive Nanami crazy… I just wanted to try it on you.” You tried to be all cute and sweet, but he was not having it.

“I can blame you. Because you left me there to deal with it all on my own.” His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, before roughly palming at your breast. “You’re so mean to me.”

A soft whine slipped past your lips as you let your weight lean against him. The feeling of his large hands roughly grabbing all over your body had your thighs squeezing shut.

“But this is what you wanted right? Hm baby? Wanted me to be rough and manhandle you, that it?” His voice was mocking and his tone condescending. Teeth nipping at your neck and jaw as he ground against your ass. Stuttered and breathless moans were muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“Y-yeah, wanted you to be rough with- fuck, with me.” Placing your hands against the cold granite of the counter, you leaned forward so you could your ass against him completely, moaning softly when he’d grip your hips roughly before pressing into you.

“You definitely need to be punished.” Gojo nodded to himself, pupils huge and dark, his hair sticking to his forehead as a light layer of sweat coated his skin, “and you’re not getting out of it anytime soon.”

In a way, your plan worked. You got to see him squirm at work. And in the end you got what you wanted, just for a lot, lot longer than you’d imagined. Seeing as Gojo didn’t even show up to work the next day as he was far too busy fucking you in every room and on every piece of furniture in the house.

I mean from the bed, to the dress, to the floor and closet. To the shower, to the hallway and to the kitchen. And all throughout the house.

By the time Gojo was finally shooting blanks and his cock was so sensitive that he’d hiss if you were to touch it, he finally began to calm down.

And instead of punishing you more by making you sit on his face while your overstimulated, he just wraps his arms around your naked and exhausted body and refuses to let go.

Lololol I love the idea of some shitty perfume making your bf go batshit crazy for some puss.

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

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