#gojo is the love of my life

[bakugoushotwife]

hiii!!! i rlly enjoy your writing 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

oml ok idk how requests work but like, can i request sum for gojo? like sum smutty ;)

maybe something like make up sex ;))) honestly you have like sm freedom writing it because i jus need some make up sex w gojo 😩😩

tysmmm!! hope you’re having a great night

a/n: yeah we need to kiss for this one bestie !! no but i love what this turned into, i was stumped over what to make them fight about so luckily the beautiful @getosbigballsack saved the DAY! <3 i love u babies!! gojo looked so scrumptious in the episode i literally have not stopped thinking about him so please take this brain rot and enjoy it

summary: you've gone and spent your allowance too soon, and now your husband is home to deal with it.

cw: y'all-- uh established relationship, gojo, he's kinda mean at times ngl, spanking, dacryphilia, oral (m receiving) facefucking, cowgirl, , pet names, daddy kink, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, they are married i swear

wc: 3746 unedited

Allowance // Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

“Hi baby! Welcome home!” You sing happily, getting up from the dining room table to meet your husband at the door as he enters. You smooth down the ruffles of your new dress, excited to show off what you bought with him in mind. When you round the corner, you come face-to-face with a less than excited Satoru Gojo. 

You stop in your tracks, his glare was intense and you knew that meant only one thing: you’re in trouble. He continues to stare at you silently, setting his keys down on the table with a loud clunk. He slipped out of his shoes, all while his icy gaze narrowed in your direction. 

“What did you do today?” He asks knowingly, giving you one chance to answer truthfully before he enacted his punishment. 

You start to wring your hands. You knew what this was about of course, but you had hoped to get yourself off the hook. You turn on your best pout, blinking up at him with your perfected sad puppy eyes, your long lashes only making your pout prettier. “Awh, ‘Toru,  listen–” You try sweetly, to no avail. 

“Ah, ah. Answer me.” He interrupts, to which you promptly shut your mouth. You brought this on yourself, you really did. You avert your gaze as he sits in his chair in the living room. The cushioned seat around him made him look like a King on his throne, staring down at his Queen forebodingly. Even his posture is intimidating; his arms folded over his chest and long legs extended far in front of him, one foot tapping expectantly. 

 “Did you lose your voice?”  He asks, tilting his head to the side, taking in your appearance. You look angelic as always, and he knew that was a new dress. It fits you perfectly, he must admit, tight at your chest and waist and barely covering your ass. The color was striking against your skin. God, you made this difficult. He was glowering with anger, more aptly called sexual frustration and desire. He had all the intentions of punishing your behavior. You were both busy all week, making it the longest he’s gone without you aside from work related trips. In an effort to make up for his absences and tardies, he gave you your full allowance two days early. 

He really does enjoy spoiling you, giving you an insane amount of money every week just for you to spend on clothes and shoes. All your hair and nails and lashes and waxes were paid for, whatever you wanted, you got it. However, there were certain rules. His sweet little house-wife wanted for nothing, and he would have it no other way. But you have to show your gratitude, because of him you haven’t worked in years. You have to make your allowance last until your next one, just because he knew you were impulsive and couldn’t do that every time, no matter the amount he gave you. Your tastes grew more and more expensive with every deposit in your bank account, though most of it was spent on beautiful outfits and gorgeous lingerie that only he would consume. You blew it all this time in one day, a new record. 

You shake your head, eyes trained on the floor. “No, I didn’t..” 

“No, what?” He arches his brow, waiting. 

“No daddy.” You correct yourself, swaying from side to side in your pretty little dress, showing how the material flowed out around you. “ ‘M sorry daddy, really…jus wanted to get all pretty for you.” 

Your pout truly was magical, your sweet face trying to bail you out of your punishment. He watched the skirt move for a minute, eyes trailing down your exposed legs and onto the new Alexander McQueen heels hugging your feet. So that’s where most of your money went. Undeniably, the shoes were made for his princess, but that was besides the point right now. All prettied up you were indeed, and he would make good use of it. 

“You know the rules, baby girl.” He says sternly, even the use of one of his many pet names for you seemed harsh. He spread his legs a little more in front of him, waiting for you to behave. His stance and authoritative tone made your pussy throb immediately. You did feel bad for making him angry, but you knew you wouldn’t necessarily dislike your punishment either, in fact you were looking forward to it. 

You stepped toward him, heels clicking against the beautiful hardwood floors of the Gojo home. He offered one hand out to you, the other supporting his cheek as if he was growing bored from waiting. Your perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his slender ones and your cheeks start to warm, a knot growing in your stomach in anticipation. You step up onto the arm of his chair with your knees, getting your balance before laying across his lap, your elbows propped up on the other arm of the chair. He watched you with dilated pupils, all your effort to make him want you worked like a charm, as if you needed to do anything special in the first place. It had been a long week, followed by this stunt? You were definitely in for it this time. He hisses when he bunches the skirt of your dress in his fist, revealing a lacy and barely-there thong. 

You smirk to yourself now that he can’t see your face. You knew he liked it, you could feel his approval for the way you look poking into your stomach right now. You wiggle your ass for him, a soft giggle escaping your lips. That quickly turns to a gasp when his large hand smacks down on your skin, making your asscheek sting immediately. The surprise makes you jump forward a little bit, and he doesn’t hesitate to jerk you back. He gives an equally hard slap to your other cheek, and the pain is sweet. You like the way it burns paired with his satisfied grunts as he watches your recoil each time. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be counting?” He reminds, not much of a question at all. His typical grin is replaced by a dark smirk as he applies another spank to your backside. 

“Three.” You hum, wiggling in his lap inadvertently. He chuckles at the sight of you, shaking his head. You’ve only given him one option, to increase the rate and intensity. 

“What a bad girl I have. Disappointing daddy like this.” He clicks his tongue. You whip your head around at this, you weren’t a bad girl! You just wanted to dress up for him, you couldn’t help that the rules were gonna keep you from doing that! He’s pouting when you look at him, really putting on a show. The force of his slap makes you squeal this time, and you can almost feel the handprint branding in. 

“Nuh-uh!” You protest, heartbroken by his words. He keeps you from arguing it further with another harsh spank, burning the skin and making tears prickle your vision. 

“Yes-huh.” He mocks, another spank. “You can’t even count like you’re supposed to. Such a naughty thing. Makes me so sad.” He sighs, eyes glued to the darkening skin of your rear. He was in fact leaving handprints, and he loved the way it looked. 

“Six!” You call out to make up for the ones you’ve missed, your brain getting scrambled under the gorgeous pain and his mean speech. Your body was consumed in heat, your panties growing uncomfortable against your soaked middle. “Daddy, I swear ‘m sorry! I didn’t mean’ta disappoint you!” You pout, the last words coming off your tongue in horror. He doesn’t accept the apology, another smack rippling across your sore ass. “Seven!” Your chin wobbles.

“Go ahead and cry. Maybe if you cry for Daddy, I’ll forgive you.” He grins, hand coming down on you once more. “You’ll have to make it up to me, since you’re such a spoiled brat. Why would you ignore my rules unless you were a bad girl? This isn’t even a punishment for you, look how wet you are!” He teases, clicking his tongue as his fingers press against your clothed hole. You can hear the squelch of yourself, lewd and loud and the only sound other than his sadistic chuckles. “Tell me you like it, angel. Tell me the truth…” 

“Eight,” You whimper, writhing in his hold now. The pain was turning your vision white in the corners, but you still didn’t want him to stop. He was right, you were a bad girl for spending all your money in one day, you could have picked less expensive pieces, but you wanted to push Satoru to his limit. You sniffle, the tears welling up so big they cloud the rest of your vision. Your ass is almost numb when you feel his hand again. “Nine! ‘M sorry, imma bad girl ‘n I love your spankin’s..” You whine, fat tears finally rolling down your cheeks. 

He hums, reaching for your chin so he can see your face, cheeks red and lip nearly bleeding from how hard you’ve been biting down on it. Your tears make you even prettier, coating your lashes and making your eyes glossy. He loves it, watching your sweet tears fall off your face to be absorbed by the fabric of his armchair. “Can you make it to ten, dollface?” 

He asks, gently wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “That could make it up to Daddy.” He hums softly, though his ultimate concern is your limit, and you know that too. You nod, if you’ve made it this far one more won’t break you. He smiles brightly, patting your cheek gently and letting your face go in favor of one last punishing spank of your bruised flesh. He rubs the skin after, trying to soothe it while he thinks of what he’s going to do to you next. 

Your eyes close under his now gentle pressure. Your ass pulsates and your pussy throbs with need, your biggest concern now was earning back your husband’s favor.

“Ten. “m really sorry, I mean it! Wanna make it up to you, really make it up to you..” You breathe apologetically, waiting to move until he tells you that you can. 

He hums at your sweet apologeticness. His princess truly owns his heart, and he could never stay angry with you. His anger melted the second he saw you, but he had to follow through on his word. Plus, it was fun to see you so ruined like this. He wonders what you may have in mind, so he arches his brow and waits for you to speak. 

“Let me suck your cock, Daddy. Please?” Your voice was permanently warped into a pouty whine it seems. He chuckles at your suggestion, how could he ever turn that down? 

“Go ahead angel, just for a bit. I’m gonna breed my brat.”  He says dauntingly, gently pushing you off his lap. His hands support your waist as you lower yourself to the floor between his legs. His bulge was staring at you, painfully restrained by his pants. You pouted up at him and shook your head, reaching for his button and zipper. 

He hummed at your attentiveness, leaning up so you could drag his pants and boxers off. You giggle softly as his member slapped up against his abdomen upon release. You look at his dick with awe. It was just as pretty as the rest of him, long and curved just to abuse your sweet spots. His tip was an angry purplish-red, and pre-cum beaded at his slit. You licked your lips and looked up at him, dainty and soft hand wrapping around his lengthy shaft. You could barely close your hand around him, fingers far from touching. He took his own bottom lip in his mouth to keep from sighing, your hand alone tremendous relief. 

He fights the urge to close his eyes, wanting to watch his sweet brat take him. His hands grip the arms of the chair, the suede fabric the only other identifiable feeling other than your warm throat gripping around him. He was heavy in your mouth, tip poking at the back of your throat with inches left to swallow. You decide to bob your head along what you have so far, eyes fluttering closed so you can focus on the feeling of his ridges rubbing against your tastebuds. Your throat relaxes, letting you take in the rest of him with a gentle moan, the vibration sending shockwaves through his body. He wondered if you could feel his cock pulse the same way he does, watching cute tears run down your cheeks again, no doubt pushing your skills to accommodate him. He needs more of you, his cock never deep enough. You look so beautiful, rubbing your legs together to relieve your own ache for him, he can’t help but moan out too, reaching for a hold fashioned of your hair. 

“You can’t go so slow, princess. I thought you were going to make it up to me?” He smirks, forcing your head along him. You gag around him and he makes an animalistic growl, striving for that choking noise again. He fucks into your face just as hard as he pushes your head down. You have to hold his thighs, digits gripping his lean legs for your life. He giggles at your struggle, though he knows you’re more than happy to please him. He keeps going until he hears that gurgle again, the sign of your struggle to take all of him in. Tears roll freely down your cheeks at this point, your mouth just a hole being used.  

He pulls you off of him, relishing in the saliva coating your lips and the heaving of your chest. “Climb aboard.” He hums, looking down at his painful erection and back up at you, his perfect princess but bumbling brat. “Take the dress off though.” He adds with a scrunch of his nose, anxious to see your perfect body under the pretty dress. 

You nod and peel the dress off, discarding it into a pile in the floor. You slid out of your heels as well, thinking it wise with your task ahead. His eyes grow wide at the sight of you, a matching lacy blue bra cupping his favorite breasts. “It’s pretty, princess. You’re gorgeous, need you to come sit on me.” He wiggles his eyebrows, watching tentatively as you unlatch your bra and let it fall to the floor as well. “You might as well take the panties off too, then.” He grins, pearly white and sharp teeth sparkling at you. 

You grin as well, bending over to slide the soaked garment off, throwing them at him with a giggle. He catches them, sticking his tongue out to taste your arousal off the soiled center. He hold your eyes the entire time, crystalline half-lidded orbs putting a spell on you. You shudder at his intensity, humming as you crawl back into the chair. He tosses your panties over his shoulder, licking his lips from your taste. His only focus is you. Your thighs straddle his hips, his weeping member already poking at your slick entrance. He just grins and places his hands on your hips, pulling you down to take him all at once. You gasp, the sharp burn of him against your womb was a feeling you never adjusted to. 

It was one he loved, both the feeling of your suffocating walls clenching and unclenching around him and the look of pleasure on your face before you’ve even started to move. He smiles, knowing how to get under your skin just like you did with him. He pulls his touch back, folding his arms behind his head. He looks up at you, eyes wild with mischief, tendrils of his shaggy white hair splaying over his muscular arms and the fabric of the chair to create a beautiful contrast. “This is your punishment, princess. Gotta do all the work yourself or I’m not gonna touch you.” 

You whine, bracing yourself on his chest. “So mean, Daddy.” You puff your cheeks, but start to slowly bounce on his lap, the pleasure of him bumping against your pleasure spot already making it hard to keep your pacing consistent. 

“I can show you mean, if you say that again.” He threatens, though his features display amusement. He does find it adorable that you can’t keep yourself together past a few cute bounces, inflating his ego even more so. He has to fight the urge to take control, though he’s not sure he can do it much longer with your pathetic attempts at riding him. It’s his idea of a joke, making his pretty little brat take the top for once. It was clear who took care of you, and that alone was making your cheeks warm in embarrassment. 

As if you could read his thoughts, you bite down on your lower lips and commit to thirty seconds or so of consistent bouncing. Your face scrunches up in frustration, and your perfect pout is back on display. 

“Aw, baby girl, what’s wrong? Can’t fuck yourself the same way Daddy does?” He hums curiously, his pretty pink lips curling into a grin. 

You shake your head, letting your head fall forward into his neck. “No Daddy, I can’t.” You admit, defeated by his blatant show of his dominance over you. 

He chuckles, patting your hair lovingly. “Aw, now that’s okay sweetheart. I’ll take care of you like I always do.” He gently reminds, bringing his hands back to hold your waist. He stands up with you, walking a short trek until your back smacks against the living room wall. He grins cheekily when you wrap your arms around his neck. He shifts his hands to support the underside of your thighs, and you know he has the strength and the stamina to hold you here until he’s satisfied. 

“Now, much better.”  He hums in your ear, looking down at where your pussy swallows him up. He pulls himself out to the tip, plunging into your cavern without a second passing in between these actions. He does it over and over, enjoying the way your body relaxes now that he’s back in control, as if he wasn’t to begin with. You’re still clutching him for dear life, but he’s used to that. Your face softens, only pleasure in your mind. He loves seeing you like this, being the reason you’re so blissful. He groans at how easy it is to slide in and out of you, dripping wet for him and he didn’t even have to work you to that point. “You’re still Daddy’s good girl, gripping me so tight like that.” 

You moan at his praise, continuously squeezing down on his length to make him happy. He fills you up so perfectly, his pace starting to increase, your head rolling back against the wall as well. He bites at your neck, the column just too delicious to ignore. Your moans amplified, and he could feel your throat vibrate under his teeth. He leaves marks on your jaw too, sucking deep hickies all over your dainty flesh.

“This is how you’re prettiest, princess, these are my favorite decorations.” He says in reference to his teeth marks and bruises covered in saliva that pepper any skin he had access to. His breath grows heavy, the feeling of it fanning over your new markings makes your skin tingle and goosebumps spring up in place. Your cunt only grows tighter as he fucks the shape of him into it, making him sigh happily. 

You can only speak in jumbled whispers of his name and moans, never more grateful for support than you are for the wall behind you, the ability to hold yourself upright long gone. Your hands slide up to tug on his hair, the feeling of his silky tresses giving you something to focus on. His pretty noises feel like a reward after what you’ve done, deep grunts and breathy moans gifted directly into your ear. 

“It’s been so long, princess. Didn’t get to have you all week, then you go and disobey me.” He clicks his tongue and grins at you. “I think you just wanted Daddy’s attention, hm? Did you just miss me angel?” He teases, the force of him making your body jump up and slide back down the wall at every thrust. 

You do your best to nod, and Satoru knows you’re past the point of being able to speak coherently. He was splitting you in half, you could feel him in your stomach and it burned so deliciously. “Mhm.. missed daddy s’much.” You wail, the rubberband in your stomach was stretched, so much tension that was about to snap and leak out all over him. 

He knows this, of course, trying to time his release with your own. As mean as he could be sometimes, your pleasure was still his goal, and he wanted you to reward him for all his work. “Go ahead, princess. I wanna feel it, go ahead and come for Daddy.” He coaxes with gentle kisses to the bruises he made. “I’ll give you mine if you give me yours.” He purrs, watching your eyes roll back with a satisfied grin. 

You cry out, knuckles turning white under your grip on Satoru’s shoulders. You nod in acknowledgement of his words, and he can feel you spasm around him to signify your release. He coos loving words to you, eyes glued on your cream creating a ring around the base of his dick. It’s so satisfying, watching you jerk with sensitivity and struggle to hold on. He loves this, his cock jumping inside you before his cum coats your insides. You swear it's in your guts, fee

ling impaled by his cock still pinning you to the wall. His head rests against the cool wall beside yours, but you can see the smile on his face. You smile too, breathing heavily and your brain feels like it’s floating in your skull. You know if he set you down right now that you would fall to the ground, legs still shaking in his hands. 

“I think you’ve learned a valuable lesson, princess.” He coos, pressing his lips gently to your forehead. He snakes his arms around your waist before he begins walking with you again, this time towards your shared room. “We can review for the rest of the night, just to be sure you really understand.” He adds, smirking cheekily. “And I’ll go to the bank tomorrow, just promise Daddy you’ll be smarter with your money.” He says with an affectionate slap to your ass while all your weight is supported in his other arm. 

“I promise Daddy.” You hum, hugging his neck and pressing your upper half against him. You absolutely would spend all your money the very next day if it means you get this punishment again. 

[symphonyofsilence]

Let the poor man rest.

[megumiifushiiguro]

GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE WHEN I FUCKING CATCH YOU-

[satworo]

you cryin'?

[gojonanami]

i LOVE the idea of satoru's child just babbling nonsense and satoru going along with it LMAO

omg yes, walking in with the laundry basket and you hear babbling — not an unusual noise — but it isn’t your kid, it’s your husband.

“uh huh, bababa nanana,” satoru is nodding along, “I know I can’t believe mama did that,”

“Babababa! Wawawa, ah!” Your kid is pouting, looking up Satoru, as he nods even more emphatically, spouting more gibberish.

You chuckle, and it catches his attention, “what’s so funny sweetheart?” His lips curling in a small smile, “ever seen two intellectuals have a conversation?”

“More like two conspiracists sounding their complaints,” you walk over, sitting next to satoru, “isn’t that right, baby?” And your baby lights up, holding out arms for you to take them into your lap, “looks like you lost your partner, what to do?” You grin.

Satoru pouts before smiling slowly at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “good thing I have my favorite partner right here — and you put up with all my nonsense,” and he kisses your lips, flashing his wedding band, “it’s required.”

[hinamie]

jjk doodles from requests !!! these were fun ty everyone for sending

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank you to @/teddybeartoji for having the biggest brain in the galaxy and infecting me with this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading you can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise an unimpressed brow. satoru steps back, inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when that makes you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“... fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily. his chest is heaving, lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire. ”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

“… do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing. enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[tiedsuccubus]

You gon need the father, son, and holy ghost to get me off this man.

[tatakaeeren]

Gojo Satoru | Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 Ep. 9 "Shibuya Incident - Gate, Open"

[nori-kakyoin]

megan thee stallion dressing in satoru gojo cosplay after arriving in japan to present at the crunchyroll anime awards

[bodega-catto]

When you hang around someone so much you start to subconsciously copy their mannerisms

[symphonyofsilence]

What drives me even more insane about this scene is how you'd expect Gojo to imagine High school era! Geto in the crowd. Or at least not the cult leader, worst of all the curse users Geto Suguru. But no, it's the cult leader Geto. It's Geto as Gojo last remembered him. As Geto last was. Whatever choices Geto made, wherever his choices led him and them, however he was, whoever he was, traumas and messed up ideas and bad choices and ill reputations and scorns and all. Gojo wanted Geto Suguru there. Not any ideal version. Not any "what if" version. Not any "at some point in time before things went downhill" version. Not any "when your hands weren't stained with innocent blood" version. He knew very well what he wanted. And he wanted it all the same. He wanted Geto Suguru. However he was. He just wanted him to be there. He just wanted him to be.

And he didn't want him to help him, he didn't want him to fight with him even if they were strongest together and always fought together for a while. He just wanted him to be there in the crowd and cheer him on. He just wanted him to stand there and give him one of his sweet, heartwarming smiles that shaped his eyes into crescent moons. He just wanted him to be. Then even if Gojo had died in the end anyway, he would have been satisfied. It would have been worth it. Only if Geto was there.

[sukugo]

[lumibuns-blog]

Boyfriend girlfriend (Gojo x reader)

"What do you mean you don't know how to do laundry?!?"

"People always did it for me what can I say" the white haired boy responded. He was laying in his dorm room practically surrounded by his own dirty clothes "can't you just do it for me pleaseeee" he gave you puppy eyes.

"I'm definitely not doing it for you-" he slumped over "but I'll teach you"

He jumped up in excitement "wait y/n really!? I asked Geto and Shoko and they told me there was no way they'd do it, are you sure!?"

"Yeah yeah whatever just pick up your stuff and follow me" you smiled

You very slowly taught Gojo how to sort and wash his laundry, and after a lot of complaining and trying he finally finished a load.

"Alright that's all you need from me I'm heading back"

Gojo felt his hand move before he could even think, he didn't want you to go. Nobody in his life had ever spent the time to teach him something in his life. It was either done for him or assumed he could do it himself. You were so sweet to him always, he wanted you to stay so grabbed onto your hand and pulled you a little harder than he had intended.

"Wah?-" you immediately were upped down, smacking your chest into his, you bumped noses.

"Gojo is-is something wrong" you blushed

"I just, I don't want to let you go" he stammered

It had taken this long for him to have been open with you and you didn't want to let him go "then don't"

"Alright then" he chuckled "I won't"

You sat there for what felt like hours before he leaned back with you still in his lap, causing you to fall forward into him once again

"Wanna watch a movie?" he questioned

"Sure but you have to finish your laundry" you lightly flicked his forehead

"Owwww...but you'll do it for me won't you? Now that we're-like- girlfriend boyfriend?"

"Not a chance"

"Hehehehheheh"

Nanami fic tomorrow y'all I gotta stay true😈

[yuwuta]

Wow I have been nonstop thinking about tennis king yuuta and his little baby boy I’m going to kill you (affectionate) - @yuutito

teeheeeeeeeee….. here’s some more, aleks :’) enjoy :))))))

“Everybody thinks he looks like me, but I don’t see it that way. Maybe it’s because every time I look at him, I see my wife and I’m reminded of her […] I’m a little biased so I see her in everything.” 

You find yourself with tears welling in your eyes the more you read into Yuuta’s latest magazine interview. Between his sweet quotes and the pictures of him with your son, it’s taking everything in you not to burst into full-blown tears. 

Your boys look so handsome. You and Yuuta shared your concerns with publicizing your child at such a young age, but you two came to the conclusion that you’d rather have the control in the narrative than to let private family pictures be leaked uncontrollably. As another point of reassurance, Yuuta’s career provided him with just enough lime-light to be a household name without the crazy fame and criticism that came along being a true celebrity. Besides—Yuuta talked enough about you and your son in press conferences and interviews that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. 

The article wasn’t entirely about you, or your family—or at least, you’re sure it wasn’t intended to be; you knew your husband had a knack for rambling about his loved ones, even where work was concerned. As you continue to read, you find a segment where the author compared Yuuta’s current statements with something similar he’d said about you twelve years ago—at the very start of his professional career: “If I owe this [winning Gold] to anybody, it’s my girlfriend. She’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. I wouldn’t have qualified or even thought to qualify if it weren’t for her.” 

It feels like you and Yuuta were just two kids in love back then. You didn’t think it could be more than that—you didn’t think you could love Yuuta more than you did all those years ago, but somewhere along the way just being in love wasn’t enough to describe it; Yuuta became your partner, someone you loved fundamentally, but also because you couldn’t stand to see yourself without him. And just when you thought you couldn’t love anyone nearly as much as you love him, you turn the page to a picture of your husband and son peeping through the holes of a racket and your heart feels full. 

When you scan the image more closely, you realize that it isn’t just any racket—it’s an old one, one you’d given to Yuuta as a gift probably back in high-school. You had no idea he’d kept it, but you suppose you shouldn’t be all that surprised; Yuuta is nothing if not sentimental. 

“Ah, there she is~” Yuuta’s voice cuts through your thoughts. When you turn, you see him, with your baby boy on his hip, sliding the back porch door closed. 

Both boys approach you with a smile on your face, and you set the magazine aside to sit up in the lounge chair to greet them. Yuuta presses a kiss to your forehead, then your lips before you do the same to your son. Immediately after, he reaches his arms out for you, and Yuuta chuckles, “You wanna be with your mama? Can’t blame you, I missed her, too.” 

He hands the baby off to you, and takes a seat on the other end of the chair, reaching over to coo at his son as you smother his face in kisses. 

“How was the farmer’s market?” you question, letting the baby settle into your lap. 

“Good, he picked out some very bright peppers, and we got some more strawberries, know you’ve been craving them,” Yuuta smiles, reaching over to pat your son’s head, when the closed magazine catches his eye, and he reaches for it, quickly flipping through, “Ah—I guess that interview’s out. He’s grown so much, even though it was only a few months ago.” 

You find the blush on his cheeks beyond endearing. Yuuta always finds room to be bashful no matter how many times he’s waxed poetic about his love for you, or his family—his cheeks always stain pink like the first day you met him. 

“It’s sweet. You’re sweet,” you smile, sparing a hand to run through Yuuta’s hair, charmed by the way he leans into your touch, “I didn’t know you still had that racket.” 

“Of course, I keep everything you give me,” he says, earnestly. He closes the magazine and scoots a little closer, taking advantage of the proximity and of your touch to lay his head on your shoulder, “Did you… read all of it?” 

“Almost, but no, why?” you question, with a light-hearted grin, “Did you say something that would lead the world to believe you’re somehow even more in love with me? Because you might already be past the threshold, dear.” 

Yuuta hums. He reaches to take you son out of your lap and carefully shifts himself to that he’s laying down, his head on your lap, and the baby in his arms, happily giggling and cooing as Yuuta holds him up. He lowers and raises him back and forth a few times, nuzzling their noses together when their faces are close, before sitting him up on his chest.

Then he tilts his head up to look at you, wide, love-filled eyes blinking slowly before he says, “Maybe… depends on if me saying I want more kids is past the threshold or not.” 

[hinamie]

binding vow