#let them talk it over like adults
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eirianerisdar · 1 year ago
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With the anons in my inbox right now you'd think the average day for Charles and Carlos goes like this:
Wake up. Go to the track. Get through a media shoot with my teammate where I force myself to lean into and laugh and make inside jokes with someone I absolutely hate. Roleplay a fake meet-up planning session in the car because there's always a camera. Flick water playfully (hatefully) at my teammate because I want him dead. Pinch his waist and wish I could punch him instead. Hug him through gritted teeth as I bury my face in his shoulder. Fly to LA to collect my oscar for non-stop stellar acting over three and a half years.
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crows-of-buckets · 7 months ago
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Rook: I'm really worried about Davrin and Lucanis, they keep arguing with one another... Its very bad Varric, what if it effects them in battle?
Varric, remembering that one time Fenris broke Ander's nose then took a knife in the back for him in the same night: I'm sure they'll be fine kid. They're barely even arguing if you ask me
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thanatologie · 5 months ago
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gonna just make this as a post in my wishlist tag so i have it but: i really, really, really want something - an au, as his main canon post-ending, whatever - based on the neve / davrin / emmrich detective slash monster hunting agency.
mostly because the idea is both hilarious and amazing, and also because no i do not believe he's headed straight back to the necropolis post-endgame unless there's a compelling reason to, not when he's just started to experience life outside of it.
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uncanny-tranny · 2 years ago
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The funniest thing about adulthood is learning that playing never stopped at childhood. Adults play, but they couch it in so many words, unless it is sports or video games, which are apparently appropriate things to accurately call "play."
Play is important, and I hope young people know that they won't be giving up the safety and fun of play in order to become Stuffy Adults. Don't fear growing up because everybody tells you how miserable you will be. You will be the same as you were, just in a bigger body.
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.... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
THIS FANDOM. HAS LITERALLY. NO DRIP.
THE PERSON WHO POSTED THIS IS GODDAMN FUCKING 31 YEARS OLD.
LIKE I NEVER THOUGHT I'D FUCKING SAY THIS BUT GO WATCH KILL BILL OR SOMETHING!
And don't get me started on the Chalastor discourse that I hear is happening right now as if I wasn't deep into the Daddy Kink Fanfic long before the show started as if the new episode combined with what Al said about Charlie in episode one doesn't fuel it for me.
But you know what? I'm glad that Medrano is having fun gaslighting the straighty straight puritans trying to turn this ship into the second coming of Starco because y'all deserve to be psychology messed with like that after what the fuck you did to this poor woman on her birthday.
Shame on you.
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longagoitwastuesday · 10 months ago
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I finally met Nanami
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#The 'I'm an adult you're a child. I have a duty to prioritise your life over my own' thing#and how he sent Itadori off to some other place for him to deal with the problem of his own and not risk the kid got me#'He's still a child' he tells Ijichi. Because Ijichi clocks him#Ijichi is powerless but he does share this mindset#Shoko too in her way. She made sure Itadori knew he had not killed anyone#Gojo too in his way cares for the kids not to do risky stuff and keeps them safe#They're the four of them very much alike if each in their own way#And Gojo must trust the three of them a lot for him to let them know about Itadori#It's nice to see how Ijichi‚ Nanami and Shoko in this chapter‚ but the four of them in general‚ work together#It may be nothing. I might be overreading#But they seem to get each other and foresee each other's moves and thought progress pretty well. There seems to be a certain intimacy#Nanami and Gojo were super cute together. Nanami is very serious and talks very formally#but it seems him and Gojo have quite a lot of intimacy? Gojo is flippant in how he deals with people but he does say he trusts Nanami#and he got very into his personal space#And he way Nanami talks about and with Gojo and how he reacts also seemed to denote a decent amount of closeness in his way#They sort of reminded me a bit of Break and Reim when Break first introduces Reim#Anyway they were cute. This group of adults is very endearing together and in how they treat the kids. I like that the kids feel like kids#And that the adults regards them as such. Quite refreshing in this kind of genre#I talk too much#I should probably delete this later#Jujutsu Kaisen
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torchickentacos · 1 year ago
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anotherpapercut · 1 year ago
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working with children really will make you examine your thought processes and emotional reactions like nothing else. I've found myself being so much more thoughtful in my daily life about how I respond to my emotions and environment, as well as the reasoning behind why others behave the way they do
#yesterday i got really frustrated and overwhelmed at one point because this one little girl keeps getting really upset when she cant help me#like shell ask to help and i wont have a task (or ive run out bc shes already helped) shes capable of so i tell her that#and thank her for being thoughtful and helpful. admittedly the first time this happened i was really frustrated w her already#bc she had made a huge mess doing something i told her not to do and then didnt want to clean it up and she only came back#and asked to help because her friend had been helping me. so i was like girl. you didnt even clean up the last mess#but i also had nothing for her to do. anyway she started screaming and hid under a table so then her friend did it sith her just. because.#idk kids will see their friend freaking out and they do it too. and i understand it but my god. i dont deal well with really loud noise#and she did it again yesterday. i let her help me and then i ran out of tasks and she started crying and saying i never let her help#and for some reason there were like 6 other kids in there all wanting to help so then several of them started freaking out#and i could not handle it. i literally told my coworker like im about to cry right now lmao#and later the little girl was like wanting to hug me and talk to me and acting like nothing happened and i found myself wanting to withdraw#like i was feeling like i wanted to avoid her and not speak to her or be cold but i also knew i didnt want to treat her that way#and i took a couple minutes by myself and thought about why i felt that way‚ what the effects of that would be‚ and how the kid felt#and i really just had to remind myself that she was feeling just as many emotions as i was but that shes only had 6 years#to learn how to manage them and deal with them in a productive way. she wasnt trying to upset me. she wasnt trying to make me mad#she was just dealing with her emotions in the only way she knew how. and im an adult and if she can get over it i really need to get over it#long ass tag story sorry
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fish-bowl-2 · 2 years ago
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All the Eds have issues in their home lives, but there is something about Edd’s family situation that I just find endlessly fascinating. Just really delving into the complicated baggage surrounding it, and how uniquely fucked up it is.
The fact that there is so much distance and lack of communication between Edd and his parents really brings up a lot of questions about WHAT their actual interactions are even like. I mean, while they are largely absent (even for a show whose whole premise does not include parents being visible), it is implied that they, or at least one of them comes home. Do they even talk to their son when they are there?
I think the thing that really gets me is that, while yes they do supply for their son’s physical needs: a comfortable home, food, etc. the emotional needs are completely neglected. Which speaks to a super specific, entitled suburban kind of disinterest that I find uniquely cruel.
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thetangibleghost · 8 months ago
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I've always wanted to wake up from a dream laughing and I just did but I realized after I woke up that I have missed a million social cues :((((((((((((((((( it wasn't even funny idk why I couldn't stop giggling. I dont even giggle irl.
#this also may have been a separate dream#i was in this big aquarium swimming and walking around. it was like. you could swim in a lot of the exhibit and interact with the animals#i had some sort of mission and i also found a baby seal who i picked up and was carrying around as i wandered around#eventually i ended up in this little nook that had one of the adult seals/walrusess? so i let the baby go but the adult was not into it and#i heard someone day something like “aw he still has hope”#theres this kid that works at the aquarium and i tell him to come with me for some reason. its around this time i realize this is some movie#the kids boss is like “next time you leave your post you gotta dive out”#and im worried a bit allready sbout him leavin his post with the adult walrus up there.#then suddenly the glass starts breaking everywhere. like one crack then the whole aquarium starts falling apart#and the kid seems a bit worried.#as were all evacuating i decide that its my fault. because the walrus must have been ramming the glass while the kid wasnt watching.#i remember thinking about how this was a movie or something and feeling really dumv#then yhe dream was over snd there was s recap??? in like drawing form and it showed the main character (me) putting a bomb in the center of#the aquarium in some sort of well or something. so. i guess it really was completely my fault in a different way than i thought#then later im at some sort of party or something and then i leave the party for another party or something? and i feel really bad sn#and socially innept the entire time. the person who i think i reconize we start talking and theyre like the first person whos nice to me#and were talking about following eachother on Instagram? or somth#while their scrolling i see a video eith one of my old friends and shes on the news? the headline is like “me and cathy snd the murder#victim...“ or something. and im like ”hey thats my friend“ and the person just shuts their phone off.#any ways so this person lets me hitch a ride with them back to the original party. they get out of the uber super early but its the right#house and the tell the driver that hes lost and the DRIVER gets out. so im like oh i guess this is their car??#and so they drive up to the drive way and three more people start getting in the car and theyre like putting stuff in the trunk#and talking about where to sit and i just start giggling.#and im still trying to participate like i offer to sit in the middle. theres already someone sitting at the front but he gets out and#everytime someone says anything i start giggling??? and like its sunny and everyone is very attractive in a way that o just found so funny#and then eventually two of then run over to this like panel dash board yhing that on a wall outside and like messing with it opening the#glove box and stuff and i just wake up#and immediately upon waking. well first i was like “teehee. i woke up from giggling” then i thought about it and i was like “oh. i was#take the front seat :(#dream log
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ourceliumnetwork · 1 year ago
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it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such
#if i say it enough i will remember it's true#can you guess which aspect of capitalism i'm struggling with today?#it does not help my bones are somehow WORSE than yesterday even after all of the rest i took so that's Super Fun:tm:#so i've got that on in the back of my head#ugh#i... am putting off calling my grandma - i meant to do it last week but i got too in my head about it#and uno reversed myself into forgetting to do it at all until the Worst Times Possible#(generally around Normal Fuckin Meal Times)#i want to call to wish her a belated mother's day and check in re: grandpa but also...#also i don't want to have to do a phone call i don't want to talk to them about anything at all#they stress me out to talk to and it makes me super uncomfortable to be on the phone in general let alone with a Heavy Topic over our heads#like.... i'm comfortable with where i'm at acceptance-wise with Grandpa's whole situation#and i know i am late for a better relationship with the pair of them in general#like i'm not going to repair a relationship that wasn't built to collapse down to this point this is as far as it got built up to#i'm not building more relationship between me and someone who i know is passing soon when they didn't take the opportunity either#like they had just as much chance as me to improve our relationship after i became an adult and they chose to use my mother as#an intermediary which has stunted their connection to me and that's not my fault#i admittedly did not reach out but i was not taught i could safely do that to anyone#because my parents badmouth literally any person they know for one reason or another#i regularly fuck up in conversations with my grandparents because i'll say somethign that is a holdover from my understanding of them#through my parents and it's like. kind of really insulting! and i've been doing it my whole life and i know as soon as i get their reaction#and i can't recover because i don't actually know them at all#so i can't be like ''oh my god i know that's inaccurate i have no idea why i said that'' because i *don't* know until after i've done it#every goddamn time it happened the last time i got a call from them too#like... my bio fam/family of origin is just not good at keeping in touch and i know i'm a product of that#and i know theoretically how to adjust for it but it does require work on the other end of the line too#and unfortunately i know my bio family too well and know they won't do their part#i grew up in the group project everyone hates#and i'm on my way to deciding they can show up to the presentation day without me#i've started a new family project over here with blackjack and hookers
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feel like in the last year I sorta speedran Jinsei Nannimo Wakannee by Necry Talkie to Nobishiro by Creepy Nuts
#pickle pontificates#basically the the first song is about feeling lost and confused and wanting to scream and cry but keeping on anyway#and the second one is celebrating finally starting to feel like you've got Being An Adult figured out and being excited to learn more#and they're both total bops#and I looped them both aggressively (the first at the end of last summer and the second one now) because of how well they matched my mood#and yeah. hey#i think i just wanted to talk about Nobishiro#I've never been able to get into Creepy Nuts cause they're usually like almost there but a little to the left of what I'm into#but as of like three days ago I'm sort of obsessed with that song in particular#I think largely because I've been doing a lot of stuff lately-#going back to a job I had 5 years ago. reapplying for college. traveling only a little but more than I have before. socializing.#going to big events#and those were all things that were scary or would induce anxiety attacks or made me feel incompetent at some point#and in a lot of ways that hasn't changed. I still struggle with anxiety/bouts of panic sometimes. I'm still extremely introverted#BUT. I feel like I know myself a lot better than I did even a couple years ago and it's getting easier to roll with the punches#to figure out when I just need to wait something out and when it's a serious problem#making small talk at my job used to be really hard and I used to constantly be nervous about screwing up the register#or making a fatal error. or pushing for something a little if I thought my boss wasn't understanding but I had a good point#but back at the same one at 25 instead of 19 it's really obvious that I'm a lot more confident and a lot less tightly wound#and I have the script for midwestern small talk basically memorized! I can crank it out like nobody's business!#I don't think I would've realized just how much without coming back here#and signing up for stuff and planning things and making decisions and meeting people gets easier every year#but it's not like I feel like I have it completely figured out. nowhere NEAR it.#it's like that point on the dunning-krueger scale where you get over the first hump#and the actual tangible bit of progress you've made is just enough to let you see what a fraction of everything it actually is#but not in a bad or discouraging way! you made it this far so of course you can make it farther#and you've finally learned how to LEARN! so let's keep going!#that's the kind of thing Nobishiro captures to like. a ridiculously specific degree (for me anyway)#and if you know me you know how much I love a really specific song that's not about romance and is a little goofy and a jam
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dragons-and-yellow-roses · 1 month ago
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One of the kids I live with has imprinted on me, which is not ideal, because just today I've made her cry twice because I can't let her follow me everywhere
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tonycries · 4 months ago
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Knight of Roses - G.S.
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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.
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“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. 
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A/N. Yearning is my kink mhm. Hope you have a lovely week <3
Plagiarism not authorized.
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hauntedbykeys · 4 months ago
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”Man I loved being in band, the environment was so supportive”- guy who just remembered the one time that his chronic pain had flared up so bad that he could taste blood and literally had to stay home from school one day and during band practice he sat down because whenever he stood for too long he got so dizzy he couldn’t think and his band director came over to him and lectured him about how he wasn’t trying hard enough and she had thrown up three time that day and she was still doing her job so he didn’t have an excuse.
#Ma’am you were a grown woman who was getting paid to be there and I was a teenager who chose to be in your class and had been in#Constant excruciating pain nonstop for the past 2 days#We are not the same#Another time I got in trouble for ticing at attention and when I was talking to someone else in guard about it her response was#“Well you’re going to have to learn to control that sooner or later” like ????? Do you not know what tics are?????#BY DEFINITION I can’t control them#But WHATEVER#Our bd also chose the FRESHMAN who had run me out of guard like a petty chihuahua to be color guard captain over me#I’m actually kind of grateful for that last one because it gave me the chance to look at my situation and realize it was time to leave#Band was the only thing holding me to that school so knowing I could quit that helped me make the decision to move schools#BUT STILL#WHAT THE FUCK????#In out bd’s defense she didn’t know all the stuff that the other person was doing but that’s because I thought I was going to captain#(Because I was a rising senior and the most experienced person there) and could have handled it when I had an official leadership role#And I didn’t want to seem petty by going to an adult about a dumb social interaction#I hit my head at winter guard practice the other day and they made me sit down for 30 minutes to make sure I didn’t have a concussion and m#only thought was “Wow [old director] would never let me do this”#The guard instructor was very concerned when I told her that lol
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